2730 Words


2730 words. That is all he wrote. 2730 words define his poetry and deepest thoughts. So few, yet they say so much. How can it be?

There are fewer words in an obituary, even fewer on a tombstone, summing up most of our lives. We don’t know how the person buried under the soil felt, or what they thought, or what engaged them. And when those that knew them are gone too, all is lost.

It is beyond sad so few of us leave behind any written legacy for our loved ones. A quote, a thought, a story, a remembrance, to hand down from generation to generation sharing and telling the future what the past was all about.

Each of us has a story, lived a life seen only from our perspective. We know things no one else knows, and we share only what is acceptable, easy, and gentle. The hard truth, the pain, the rage, all of those are buried as deep as a coffin, shame.

2730 words are the legacy of my son. Something to share, no matter how painful, with all those who loved him, and all those who will never meet him in this life. It was an honor to put his words together for those who will come after.

Twenty Senior Moment Thoughts


  1. The moments after you wake up and nothing hurts, and suddenly you think you might be dead.
  2. You can’t argue with someone who doesn’t have on his hear aids.
  3. Telling your grandchildren how things used to work in your world compared to their world leaves them thinking you are either a liar, or crazy.
  4. Food isn’t nearly as interesting as it used to be, especially if you have to do the cooking.
  5. Getting to the the bathroom and back in the middle of the night without hurting yourself, tripping on a pet or shoes, or stubbing your toe on the bed frame is considered a victory.
  6. Taking a shower without someone else in the house to help if you fall is a daring thing.
  7. Running is not an option. Don’t care how big and scary it is. Not happening.
  8. No one cares if you suck in your stomach, because people actually look at your face to see if you can their read lips.
  9. You can say anything you want, no one dares take on the ticked off old lady.
  10. If you have your walker with you, people let you go to the front of the line. Really. They do.
  11. You can tell other people’s bratty kids to stop behaving like a brat. It scares the crap out of the kids, and embarrasses the parents.
  12. When someone young complains about how hard life is, you can mock them by telling them, “Child, you have NO idea how hard life can really be.”
  13. Going out means going to the grocery or out to eat so you don’t starve. Otherwise, why bother.
  14. Music from your era is now elevator music. Scary to hear “Taking Care of Business” played with violins and muted horns. Very scary.
  15. It is easier to relate to old people. I mean really old people, like your parents old.
  16. It is harder to relate to your grandchildren or great grandchildren because, well, they just don’t get interpersonal relationships. They have techno friends instead.
  17. Language doesn’t mean what it used to mean. Slang has evolved into everyday speech, and proper English has disappeared in conversations.
  18. Try explaining how short cut words and TEXT speech are impossible to say out loud, do it often enough that it drives kids nuts. R U does not spell ARE YOU. Really, it doesn’t.
  19. It no longer matters if you wear pajamas all day long. It is just practice for the day you are in a nursing home or left at the funny farm.
  20. Being grumpy and ticked off is the best way to get your daily aerobic exercise for your heart. Less sweaty too.

How Did I Get So Old So Darned Fast?


Today I turned 62 years old. I think that qualifies me as older than dirt. I know it qualifies me as a senior citizen. What I want to know is how it happened so darned fast. Just a few weeks ago, I swear I was trying to figure out the whole concept of being an adult.

When I turned nine, I remember it well, because my parents gave me a copy of Huckleberry Finn. The first real book I remember ever getting. I still have it. And I took time to re-read it not too long ago. When I turned 17, I was a married woman of a whole three months. I remember thinking I had it all, and knew it all, and wasn’t afraid to face everything life would throw at me. I was a grown woman, and by heaven I knew it all. Arrogance knows no bounds to a 17 year old.

When I turned 20, I had a three month old son, he was taking me down a peg or two in arrogance, and teaching me that being a grown woman was harder than it looked. Being a mother certainly was harder. Little did I know that by the time I turned 22, I would have a second baby boy and life was set on fast forward for the next twenty years or so.

I don’t remember many spectacular birthdays. They seem to blend together. However, I remember when I turned 30, my two best friends kidnapped me, drove me all over Harrison, Arkansas for a few hours, then took me out to eat at a steak place. When I walked in, almost the entire church ward, most of my Boy Scout Leader friends, and many others turned up for a surprise party. I was totally shocked. Not a clue slipped out from anyone. Back then, there were no cell phones, so no one was able to tip me about the kidnapping or anything. It was great! I was fully embarrassed, but it was the slickest thing anyone has ever pulled on me. Candy, and Edie Mae , I have not forgotten, and I will get even one day.

The best gifts my husband gave to me are: The Elton John Concert in Hong Kong, The Michael Buble concert in Memphis, and my beautiful blue Honda Del Sol sports car, I call Posh. Treasured memories, and one of the most fun toys I have EVER had.

Once our boys moved out and on with their lives, and we got custody of Crystal, we decided to move to Europe, and then around the world, using employment opportunities to set off on our next adventure. When it was time to move on to the next new home, it was always on my birthday. We were either moving into a place, or packing to move out of a place – or in accommodations between places. Since it was either a sad time, or an exciting time, there was never time to pay much attention to celebration. One exception, however, was when we were living in Hong Kong. The other moms with children Crystal’s age who attended the same international school as Crystal took me to lunch. It was a fabulous time, and each gift is still something I use today, or wear today. They are part of my treasure horde. Of course, tea in the plaza after school every day was special too. Sigh, I miss you all.

I guess I was busy having a life, and simply didn’t notice time sneaking past at such a rapid rate. Technology has overtaken the simple pleasures, and I miss that. I miss being the mom of growing boys (before teenage hell set in). I miss the summers at the swimming hole with Edie Mae and her girls, and Candy and her boys along with me and my kids. I miss the Plaza with the ladies there and their kids, I miss the women in London and Nottingham, and I miss the dear friends in New Zealand, especially Leah who was more than willing to give me a kick in the attitude when I needed one most. I miss being young and strong physically even if I am old and stronger emotionally and have more wisdom.

The older I get, the less it matters if we celebrate my birthday or not. It is a day I do a lot of reflection on my life. Since it is so close to Christmas, and the anniversary of my baptismal date this month, there always seems to be more important things to focus on. Especially, for me, spiritual matters.

But I still don’t understand how I got from 22 to 62 so darned fast! The upside, is now I have grandchildren, and great grandchildren to love and spoil. I have a husband of 45 years, who has grown up and old with me. And who can still carry on a conversation and debate over all sorts of interesting topics with me, Who still, after all this time, wants to have adventures with me. So, I guess the real trade off of getting old, is that I have had a great life, get to do so much more, and know that life is still full of adventures.

Dinner Conversation


So the husband and I were having dinner the other evening. We had a rather routine conversation for the two of us. I was wondering if any of your conversations go something like this.

We were discussing change of meaning for a particular word over the generations. When it was first used in conversation, it wasn’t considered a rude word at all. Everyone used it, but over the years it became an obscenity, especially for women to utter, or for men to use in mixed company. Then it became pretty much forbidden language for years. Slowly it came back into use, and is now used for just about every part of a sentence, except as an article. Any way, that segued into the discussion of language and its many variations, from early man up to present day. This conversation took about thirty minutes.

Then, along with dessert, we got into a discussion about how writing started. Math is an easy idea, anyone who has more than ten of something needed to know how much they had. So, a line represented so many of such a thing. But then, how did they know what lines related to which item. So, we got into a rather heated discussion about pictograph languages and symbols, or rather, which probably came first. Then we got into how that skill was passed to other generations and other groups. Was it an idea that someone showed a different culture and they adapted to fit their language, or did other cultures come about writing all on their own? That got a bit heated too, mainly because I see it as language based and the husband sees it as an offshoot of mathematics. I can see his point, but I also see a need to communicate information as tribes became cultures and cultures spread out over a geographic area.

As we finished out dessert, and were waiting for our check, we continued discussion language versus math, and how intertwined they were with the development of our modern idea of country, origin, and cultural development. Leading to the difficulty people have today of never being able to be alone. They constantly have to be in contact with someone via their phone and other devices. Which led to the idea that it would be interesting to put a modern gadget junkie in a distant accommodation without any of their go to gizmos to see how they would cope. Take them back to, oh, the early 1940’s and leave them on their own for an agreed amount of time.

About the time the check turned up, I left to use the facilities, and the husband paid the bill and said he would meet me at the car. When I came out the couple sitting behind us stopped me and asked it we were professors. I said no, not now. They said they learned more about prehistory overhearing our conversation than they ever had in class. “How do you guys know all this stuff?” They asked. I just smiled and said, “We read. A lot. About a lot.” “The lady said, “That is so weird. We just talk about the kids.” I smiled again, and made my way to the car.

To us, this was a normal dinner conversation. How is that weird, or is it?

Baby Know How To Play The Game


Baby Knows How to Play The Game.

I recently observed the following while buying shoes.

A young woman 25ish and her boyfriend/significant other/husband were next to me as I was trying on a pair of shoes. He was standing with a shoe box in his hand, having obviously found what he wanted rather quickly. She was standing in front of a mirror with a fancy high heel boot on one foot and an even fancier high heel shoe on the other. The conversation went something like this.

She: Honey, which one do you like best?

He: obviously bored out of his mind and a bit frustrated – Baby I don’t care, just pick one.

S: Pout face, baby voice – But honey, you are buying them, so you get to pick them. I like them both.

H: How much to they cost?

S: a bit put out – They cost about the same, the shoes are a few dollars more.

Silence – I could see the man logic swirling. Okay! For two dollars LESS you get all that leather and boots will last a long time. You know how it goes.

H: Well, then get the boots. He was thinking this was a done deal.

S: But honey, I don’t know. I mean the shoes fit better . . .

She fell silent posing with one foot then the other in front of her. Letting the man stew a bit.

H: Look Baby, if you like the shoes better . . .

S: breaking in – Oh but honey, I don’t know that I do. They are both so precious.

BEWARE the use of the word precious used when a woman is shopping… always back up a few steps.

H: Baby, both look great on you. I don’t care just pick one and we can get out of here.

S: Shooting him a glare, Well, Never mind then, if you are in such a hurry, I won’t get either one.

H: finally catching on. The light bulb was tangible. Look, Baby, just buy them both. Then you don’t have to decide and we can go have something to eat and relax.

S: Squealed with excitement, followed by a kissy face hug. Oh honey I love you so much!

H: sighing. Love you too Baby. Love you too.

I took a peek at the price tags when they left. On Sale! Boots 125.00; heels 240.00. GASP!! Wow! I guess Baby knows how to play the game. And Honey has learned how to let her.

Wally World After Dark


If you want to see the weird, wild, insane, and down right disgusting, to to Wally World after dark. Shudder…. My day was going great until I had to go in there. Yeah, the one in Southaven (next time a 15 minute drive out of my way first)! If you have ever been to the one in Southaven, MS, you know what I mean. From the guy dribbling his basketball down the aisle until it got away from him and broke the olive oil bottles, the woman with four kids running wild and having a fist fight right in the middle of the store, to the guy who called me a Beach (you know what he was trying to say),when I asked his clueless, phone chatting, wife to let me by. I had to remind him how to say the word in English, reminding him the difference between a bitch (female dog) and a beach are vast – and and got off one of my best zingers in ages.

“Senior, I am not a beach, a beach has sand and rocks, I don’t. And I doubt you could find your rocks with a map and a compass, as they must be very small. After all, a real man doesn’t call an elderly woman names.” So, he counters with the expected “F You Beach. ”

I managed not to laugh, but said, “I didn’t know beaches could do that. However, I prefer a man, not something with tiny rocks, who thinks he is a man because he can swear in two languages. But, it is nice to know you fancy me.” Boy was his wife ticked…. I speak enough Spanish to know he would be sleeping on the sofa tonight. The guy with them was laughing like a loon. He kept saying, That old lady got you, bro, she got you good. The wife was not a happy camper…. Ha ha. I won. If you don’t want to be set into your place, don’t take on an English teacher in a verbal war. We win.

Like I said, Wally World after dark, you just never know what you will see.

Stop Saying That!


I was sitting in a café having breakfast this morning when a gaggle of 20ish to 40ish women came in and sat down at the table behind me. They were talking loud and being a bit obnoxious, but I tried to ignore them and read my book while eating breakfast. Soon, however, it became impossible to concentrate because they were talking over each other, squealing, and generally trying to out talk each other. One phrase kept coming up, over and over and over…. “Oh My G-d.” It was used so often I actually started counting the number of times I heard it. In a 25 minute stretch, it was said 44 times by different females, with different vocal expressions. It was used to convey everything from awe to anger, to agreement, to disappointment. It was, quite frankly, annoying beyond words.

I guess that three word phrase is today’s equivalent of earlier generations catch words such as like, you know, just too…whatever. And it is designed to make whomever utters it sound like some empty headed wannabe (another catch word) who has no idea how to make a cogent remark of exclamation.

However, the reason this constant utterance of Oh my G-d bothers me so much is that it seems, well, offensive to those who are Christians. I was taught that to use the word G-d in casual language, or even more so, as part of a swear word, was highly offensive to the Divine. When one calls His name, one is asking for His attention. We say in in reverence and supplication in prayer, we say it in times of dire need for direction or help, we call upon Him in rejoicing and thanks, but we do not simply use His name as an expletive or common exclamation of surprise or shock.

I always remember the prayer of Jesus Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane when he calls out in spiritual agony, “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46, KJV) That is the standard of emotional being that would result in the need to cry out to the Father in such a way. Not just because someone has spoken about a juicy bit of gossip, and everyone responds with equally juicy surprise and avid curiosity for the speaker to tell more.

I recently had an bit of a verbal discussion with a woman who was allowing her children to jump off a retaining wall into a very busy car park. At least I thought she was allowing it. She had her face buried in her phone text messaging. Three other adults asked the children not to jump off the wall because they could get hurt as there was so much traffic. Finally, after the children ignored everyone, I asked where their mother was. They pointed her out. I walked over and told her that her children were in danger of being hit by cars since they kept jumping into traffic, and if she didn’t get off her damned phone, I was going to call the police and let them sort her out. She looked up at me in surprise and said it was none of my business what her children did. I told her it certainly was if I ran over one of them when they ran out in front of me. I calmly started to dial the emergency number, but before I hit send, she screamed, Oh My G-d, what the hell are you doing? I told her, I don’t know what He is doing other than keeping your kids alive, because you are too busy playing on your phone to pay attention to your children. I, however, am trying to get you to be a responsible mother. Then she upped the ante with Oh my F-ing G-d. I responded with the comment that the as far as I knew sex had nothing to do with the conception of Jesus Christ, and the Divine probably wouldn’t have sex with her no matter how much she begged. She threw her hands in the air and stomped off to her car, only remembering to call her children when she was half way there. When I passed her car, she was still texting. And probably using the OMG comment every two seconds. Some times sarcasm is just too intelligent for people to understand.

My point, however, is this. There are many of us who find the causal used of the name of the Divine in common vernacular, to be offensive and rude. Please, just stop and find a better way of expressing yourselves. To me it is just as offensive as being called the N word is to black people. Remember, when you use the word G-d you are asking for the attention of the Father. And if you add the word damn to the first word, you are asking Him to bring damnation down on someone. He probably won’t, but asking him to might bring you more attention that you would care for when you get to the other side. I don’t know about you, but taking on a deity is not my idea of smart.

Prejudice, Choice, Preference


Recently, I had a rather heated discussion with someone concerning racism. Which is, as we all know, a form of prejudice. It is my opinion that prejudice is part of most cultures and is definitely rampant amongst certain social groups. The definition of the word prejudice [prej-uh-dis] as follows:

Noun:

1. an unfavorable opinion or feeling formed beforehand or without knowledge, thought, or reason.

2. any preconceived opinion or feeling, either favorable or unfavorable.

3. unreasonable feelings, opinions, or attitudes, especially of a hostile nature, regarding an ethnic, racial, social, or religious group.

4. such attitudes considered collectively: The war against prejudice is never-ending.

5. damage or injury; detriment: a law that operated to the prejudice of the majority.

6. Verb (used with object), prejudiced, prejudicing.

to affect with a prejudice, either favorable or unfavorable: His honesty and sincerity prejudiced us in his favor.

7. Idioms

without prejudice, Law. without dismissing, damaging, or otherwise affecting a legal interest or demand.

(I know, it one is not supposed to use dictionary definitions when trying to make a point, it is a lazy way of doing so. However, there are those who simply haven’t a clue concerning the real meaning of the word, nor do they know how to use it properly in either the written or spoken English/American language.)

So, if prejudice is to prejudge and form an opinion in the negative without knowledge, thought, or reason, does that mean a person prejudges and creates a prejudice that it is a choice based on bogus or non information? No, really, I am serious. Because, quite frankly, I am really tired of being labeled by those who don’t bother to gain knowledge concerning a topic before spouting off and blaming everyone but their own prejudging for all the wrongs in the world.

Is it a prejudice to prefer one particular football team over all others to the total exclusion of other teams, or is it a preference based on knowledge, thought, or reason? Is it a preconceived opinion or feeling that is unreasonable but based within ones social sphere of other fans of that team? Is it a knee jerk emotional reaction to get angry when that team loses, or does one stop and think through the game and realize that the other team was simply better that day? Or, does one get simply want to take the anger out on the coach or a team member in an emotional reaction based on unreasonable feelings? Is it a choice or is it a preference? One based on logic and knowledge, or one base in emotional overload.

Is it prejudice or racism to enjoy a song by a black singer that is also a hit by a singer of another color? Is it choice based on knowledge and understanding of that piece of music, or is it a prejudice against the black singer if you like the other singer better? Choice/preference or prejudice? Do your prefer the non black singer because of your preconceived ideas, or because of hostile feelings toward the person of color, or do you simply happen to like one rendition over the other because it sounds better to you? For instance, I prefer the Bing Crosby rendition of White Christmas, because it reminds me of my childhood and happy times. I don’t dismiss the value of other singers, no matter their background, but I prefer that song for personal reasons. I willingly listen to most other singers and their renditions, but that one will always be my favorite. Does that make me prejudiced toward other singers, or do I have a preference?

When it comes down to it, we all have prejudices about myriad of things, people, issues, and yes, football teams. Some of us are never going to wear Manolo heels, not because we have an issue with Manolo, but because high heels hurt our feet. Logic says, if it hurts, don’t do that again. But, some of us will also not wear products made in places where they keep people working for pennies as virtual slaves because we are against that sort of thing. We are prejudice, however, we are also making a choice based on knowledge and understanding of the suffering of the workers. That fine line between choice and prejudice is only crossed when we, as human beings, take those feelings out on other people because we allow emotion to overcome logic and knowledge of the facts.

It is well known among my friends and unfriends (a few have done so because I won’t back down on certain issues), that I do not bow to white guilt. There are two reasons, first, slavery happened over a century before I was born. I had nothing to do with it therefore I have no guilt over what my ancestors may or may not have done in the past. Second, I was raised in the US Military post Korean War. Therefore, I grew up with, went to school with, engaged with, and befriended children of all colors, cultures, and backgrounds. Living on an Army base, especially overseas, was like living in a special world where everyone just got on with doing what had to be done. There was no time, nor place, for racism, prejudice, or attitudes. Choice or preference, or simply how things were?

Along the lines of refusing to bow to white guilt, I am adamantly opposed to allowing enemies of my country into the United States. Jihadist Islam is not something that we should tolerate in a freedom loving country based on the values and morals within the Constitution and Bill of Rights. The culture and religion of the radical Islamist is exactly opposite of what most Americans believe and they are a threat to our security. Some would say I am a bigot or a racists, and I would be if this opinion was based on knee jerk emotional reactions and not on knowledge, logic, and an understanding of what the jihadist radical islamic people believe and what they want to do to all who do not believe exactly as they do. Ergo, people, it is the JRI who are prejudiced, bigoted, and racist – not I.

However, there are those that believe I should be ashamed of my thoughts, and I should welcome refugees (I use the term loosely here) who hate our country to waltz right in and do as they will. We should bow down to their demands and give them everything they want so they will like us and not hurt us. How did that work out for other countries and cultures in the past? Read your history, it is about to be repeated because people are terrified to stand up and state the obvious after all their social media group will lambaste them into submission by using guilt and passive aggressive attacks. So, is it choice to stand up to the enemies, is it prejudice to want to stop others from taking away our freedom, is it a preference to remain free, or is it simply the way things are?

I don’t care what your skin color may be, or not. I don’t care where you live, or who your social groups are, as long as you aren’t hurting others, cheating others, taking from others without giving back, or using your social groups to make impossible demands so you can remain a child in an adult body.

I don’t demand anything of anyone, I ask that people remember how far we have come from 1864 and how much change was wrought by Martin Luther King and his followers, black and white. (With, of course, the exception of the ambulance chasing rabble rousers like Sharpton, Jackson, and Farrakhan.)

Under the changes that took place during and after the tenure of Dr. King, the world opened up for everyone of color – and changed the world for everyone in the United States. It wasn’t until the radicalized people like the Black Panthers and Malcolm X took over that the peaceful changing world of race acceptance was shattered. It wasn’t until the US government displace fathers in the black communities, thriving black communities by the way, and families fell apart that we began to see the gangs form and violence foment within the broken communities. When Uncle Sam became Daddy Sam, many succumbed to the easy money and gradual erosion of personal accomplishment and pride in a job well done. Things went from “I can do this” to “I deserve this because of my skin color.” Yet even with the violence – mostly black young men killing black young men who have been disenfranchised as valuable to the community – there are those who see past the propaganda and refuse to be yet another government statistic. Bravo for them! It is too bad that those with so much potential become so convinced that they are worthless simply because the government tells them so to keep them on the welfare system. Does that make me prejudiced toward people of color? No, because the facts and knowledge based on information provided by the communities and history of the people themselves provide the logic behind my words. A knee jerk prejudice reaction would be to assume that all people of color are violent, ignorant, and worthless. Kind of like all Democratic senators did after the civil war. And, like Lyndon Johnson and his cronies did after the death of Dr. King. After all, he created the great welfare program resulting in the enslavement of the minds of the black communities.

Before, you go pointing fingers, making assumptions, loudly proclaiming someone a certain label, take a look at how you are behaving. Are you being prejudicial, based on emotion and preconceived ideas planted in your minds by those with an agenda to control you and your thoughts and ideas, or are you making a choice in how you behave based on knowledge, understanding, and facts found within today’s news and yesterday’s history? Are you spouting slogans like parrots forced upon your conscience by repetition of those who are prejudging those who are not like you, or, are you thinking past the hype and searching for the rock bottom truth behind the propaganda? Is it prejudice, choice, or preference? Who is making you point fingers and label others? Is it really you, or is it a feel good reaction to unpleasant truths? Really, I would love to know. Because I am really tired of being called names when I disagree with the popular propaganda machine robots. Really.

Boys To Men


One of my pet peeves is seeing people be upset when boys are being, well, boys. I was a Cub Scout Leader for 13 years. I ran day camps for up to 300 eight, nine, and ten year old boys every summer for eight of those years. I loved every minute of it, even when I heard the same silly or gross joke for the umptheenth time, or had to separate to boys who were having their version of a pissing contest for dominance over the group. That was back when boys were in training to be men. Back before the marginalization of boys by the matriarchal society led by the progressive liberals and the out of step feminists, and it was no longer politically correct for boys to be boys.

My husband ran across this from PJTV. http://www.pjtv.com/series/war-on-men-how-masculinity-is-under-attack-in-america-832/boyhood-under-attack-why-boys-cant-just-be-boys-anymore-10924/

He pointed out that,” Today, Tom Sawyer would be in ADHD therapy, and Huck Finn would be in Juvenile Prison.” Today, boys aren’t allowed to ride bikes without helmets and protective gear. Had I tried to force that on my boys, they would have been outraged because I obviously thought they were too inept to ride a bike without hurting themselves. We, as a nation, have made it nearly impossible for boys to become men, living and growing from their natural inclinations and behavior that is embedded in their DNA.

Because boys are loud, dirty, smelly, and politically incorrect; because they run, make noise, climb, pick up gross things like worms, and they fight with each other our society of fearful mothers and fathers are trying to force boys to be something they are not. All of that is genetically part of being male and teaches them how to be hunters, fearless, curious, and innovative thinkers. It also establishes a pecking order that is vital in a hunter/gatherer community. Of which, we are still very much a part. We just hunt and gather different things today. (And the chief is your boss.) BUT all of that natural male inclination is politically incorrect in today’s matriarchal society in modern western countries.

So, to fit in, to keep from embarrassing their community or family, their NATURAL male instincts are cut from their lives, and they are forced into more feminine behavior, along with brain washing that being male is a bad thing. Enslaving the minds and bodies into unnatural behavior makes them act out more. The easiest way to control them is to label them with some sort of disability and drug it away. Along with being unable to just be kids, they ‘lesson and sport’ kids from the time they are five or less. No kid needs to be in ballet at three, no kid needs to be on a team at five. They first need to learn how to play and work together on their own, to create their own social group without helicopter mommy and daddy making sure their darling child is treated fairly. (That means better than others in PC lingo.) We do them no favors by removing them from the natural rhythm of play and forcing them into the unnatural world of competitive passive aggressive sports or lessons. All it does is place more stress in their already submerged and trampled maleness.

Playgrounds are no longer mayhem. No kids running around playing and yelling, no foot races, or natural male competition is allowed. Instead, everything is organized and ‘fair’ (gag) and no one learns to be a leader, problem solver, or how to create relationships. Everything is a passive aggressive competition since out right competition is forbidden as someone has to lose. Yep, we are making our boys weak, immature, and incapable of being men with all their natural abilities. That is how we end up with confused metrosexual guys who aren’t sure what they are, male/female/straight/gay or human.

By labeling everyone with a disability, the kids who really are having problems and really need help are pretty much marginalized and shoved to the back of the line. Besides, don’t you know it is the IN thing to have a kid with a disability? Everyone is trying to get that diagnosis so they have an excuse for why their kids, male or female, is out of control. Personally, I believe that most of those kids just need attention at home, and the occasional kick in the pants for bad behavior, oh, and taught some manners. Parents need to parent and stop being afraid of what the social group they hang out with will think.

And another thing, since I am already on a rant. We need to stop forcing our children to play together when they don’t like each other. If they don’t want to share their toys, especially with a kid they don’t like, stop making them. All it does is to teach them to be confused about their feelings, and to see themselves as the ‘mean or bad’ kid since they are being politically incorrect. I loathe hearing parents to tell their children to ‘play nice’ when they need to be telling them to have fun. As adults it is hard to deal with social situations with people we can’t stand, to force that on a child is beyond cruel.

Another reason so many boys are labeled disabled and on drugs is because it makes easier to control an over crowded classroom of 35 kids. If the kids are drugged, they aren’t a problem for the teachers who are free to teach regurgitative education for the purpose of state tests. There is no need to expect the kids to think, theorize, innovate, or invent, because they are too drugged up to care. Some teachers love that because that means they can meet the goals set out for them with less pressure from the powers that be.

So where does that leave us when they become teenagers who have been given powerful behavior altering medication for years? What happens when they become young men with the natural behavior of males totally squashed and unrealistic social behavior forced on them? It leaves many of them unable to cope with anything.

Aggression is frowned upon, although there is a constant need to prove themselves. Boys turning into men aren’t supposed to be gross and rowdy, they are supposed to be caring and emotional, you know, like girls. That isn’t to say they aren’t caring, but they do not go about it the same as a female. They think differently, and no amount of constant belittling of their maleness will make them think like a woman – they have hardwired DNA.

Where does that leave us? With kids who are used to being drugged up, and incapable of understanding how to cope with feelings and needs. So they self medicate with alcohol or other drugs. They act out in rage that they don’t understand because they have been told from birth that they cannot be angry. It is bad to be angry. To give into anger makes them a bad kid. Instead of having their entire childhood to learn how to cope with emotions and anger, they are taught to deny their feelings. Men, boys, males of all sorts need to have that challenge of other males. They need to have that opportunity to learn how to build a social group that works for them within the boundaries of being a guy among a bunch of other guys. They need that chance to be gross, smelly, dirty, and loud. They need to learn to be men by being boys first.

OK, off my soap box

And so…


The word ‘and’ along with the word ‘so’ are both conjunctions in English grammar. There are many sites on line that explain the use of conjunctions in a proper sentence and their placement in the sentence structure. They are important, along with many other words used to connect thoughts, ideas, actions, and sentences. However, there is a trend in the written and spoken English language of today that drives me batty. That is the use of “and so” as a conjunction or continuation of a conversation. “Jen and I went to the market but I forgot my wallet. And so, she went back to the house to find it for me.” arrrrhhhhggghhhh!!! The proper use would be: “So she went back to the house to find it for me.” Why in the world does anyone need to place the conjunction ‘and’ in front of the conjunction “so?”

I over hear a lot of conversations where one person is telling a story or about an event, and to continue from one part to another, they use ‘and so’ to get there. “Toni tells me that she is never going to give up on that idiot boyfriend of hers, and so I told her that she deserved what she got then. And so, she gets all up in my face and starts yelling about how rotten a friend I was. Whatever, girl, I said, and so I left before it got ugly.” aaaarrrrrgggghhhhh!!!

What the hell are they teaching in schools these days? Certainly not proper grammar or sentence structure. In fact, I think they are doing their best to dumb down the entire subject of grammar to replace it with text speech and spelling. I may go ballistic.

If you see an odd light in the sky followed by an explosion, it will be me finally losing control over poor grammar and the inability of young people to speak and write properly.

Diagram this for me. And so we went home. Where does the punctuation belong? What is the conjunction ‘and’ connecting with so? Is it And so, we went home? Or is it, And, so, we went home? Or is it, And, so went home? Is any of that proper grammar, and can you make a sentence diagram from the comment?

Yes, it makes me crazy, as it would most English Teachers.