I Am A Racist? Really?


Recently, I posted my opinion on the cop killings and BLM on a blog. Basically, it ticked off the liberal white guilt trip pack. This is my response. No holds barred. I would apologize for the language, but it is heart felt and honest, so I won’t. Lets just day I kept it as clean as I could.

I’m a Racists? Really?

So, you lot seem to think I am a racist, or whatever, because I am telling you what MY experience with the black and white people in the south has taught me. Okay. Soooo, your point? Look, I have lived in 11 countries, ONLY in the US do we have this idiocy of promoting a race war. In England, New Zealand, Germany, any other place I have lived, people are just people. Skin color does not matter. Here it is promoted by the progressive left who have done their best to keep black people divided by their color. It began after the Civil War and it continues today. I assume, and that may be asking too much, that you DO know the background of the democratic party and their promotion and development of the KKK and all the Jim Crow laws that abound throughout the US. It started in the south, but it spread across the country like wild fire.

After the Civil War, many black men were elected to state and federal positions, as soon as possible the white democrats kicked them all to the curb using the Jim Crow laws, continuing the division between blacks and whites. Then came good old Woodrow Wilson, who was a hugs supporter of Margaret Sanger, and who supported eugenics. That means the killing of all babies she thought were being born to people who were obviously too flawed to be real humans. All blacks, many of the uneducated, Catholics, Jews, and the poor. Nice people.

Following them of course, is Johnson, who as soon as Kennedy was dead, brought in the lovely Great Society. It is well known that he loathed black people and thought that they were sub human. So, since he couldn’t enslave them like they used to be, he and his cronies come up with a GREAT idea! Wanna guess? No? Let me enlighten you a bit.

1. First, make welfare easily available and pack it with all sorts of goodies, based on how many kids you have and how much you can scam the system.

2. Emasculate the men of color. Make big daddy government in charge and tell them that they are no longer needed to keep a family solvent.

3. Tell them that they are victims, victims, victims, over and over and over until all the kids believe it, and they stop striving to improve and learn. After all big daddy will take care of them.

4. Tell them they don’t need to work. And kids drop out of school to hang on the corner Uninspired, uneducated kids end up getting into trouble. Soon, it becomes cool to be a loser with no ambition or dreams.

5. Then tell them that family isn’t important. Take that and add to it the way in which black women are encouraged to abort their children, and make it government supported and suddenly there is no reason for a mom and dad, because if a girl gets pregnant, there are no consequences.

6. Fast forward to present day, and you have the creep in the white house promoting racism by continuing the false narrative that black people are victims, and all white people OWE them because we are ALL racists at heart.

7. With no one to teach the last three generation of men how to BE leaders and men of authority and strength, most young men haven’t a clue what real men are like. So they start looking up to the strong man in their area – drug dealers, thugs, pimps, etc. and decide to emulate them.

8. With no man to teach them right from wrong and the value of respect, they have none for anyone except the strong man among them who keeps them in line with violence and anger.

9. Therefore, cops, among any others with authority, are treated like they are the enemy. And that is founded on the way in which SOME bad cops treated them before folks learned better. Like 40 years ago. Yes, there will always be someone who is an asshat that wants to force respect and control, but they are few and far between.

10. Now we have thugs and criminals in charge and everyone is afraid to stand up to them. Cops just doing their jobs are killed, targeted, and the thugs in the bogus BLM groups are screaming kill all the white babies! Murder all the white people! And cops still go out and do their job with huge targets on their backs.

Now, compound the issue with the still progressive slave overseers on the plantation of the democratic party bringing people on stage who are screaming that their son was killed by cops and it is all the fault of the cops. Really? Check their kids police record first, enlightening stuff. But, hey, more money for them paid by the city who is afraid to stand up to evil.

But, I am a racist. As a life long conservative, I am ANTI anything the democrat progressives promote – like modern slavery via welfare and their desire to destroy the black family and dreams. So, I am a racist. Really? I make things divisive by saying that folks up north are different concerning race than down here. Because, ladies and gents, I have lived up north, and there is a difference in attitude. I don’t know why, but there is a lot more racism from both sides there than there is here. Probably one reason is that we have learned by living in close proximity that we need to cooperate and get along to get anything done.

When I was a kid the black people in town may have lived in their own community, but there were doctors, lawyers, business men, clergy, teachers, writers, artists, musicians, hard working men and women who had pride in themselves and in their community,. They had dreams, plans for the future, plans to help their kids be better, do better, live better than they did. They had honor, and integrity. Many black people today have that same drive and ambition and honor. But many many more have bought into the progressive victim propaganda and as such have lost their way.

I honestly don’t care what color anyone may be. I have lived in far too many places to see people as anything other than people. Maybe with different customs and social behaviors, but still just people. It pisses me off that in this day and age people in the greatest country in the world (even with an ass in the white house) is willing to fall for this crap. Racism is a state of mind, so just change your damned mind and get over it. Too many folks on both sides of the issue are caught up in the blame game and victimization and white guilt. Get over yourself. And get RACE out of the politics. At the same time, more and more black folks around here are standing up to the BLM crap and telling them to piss off. The whole BLM thing is insulting to them.

ALL lives matter, cops, black, white, Asian, Hispanic, green, yellow, rainbow alphabet, men, women, children, and undecided. NO ONE is better than anyone else, but then, I am divisive and racist. Actually, what I am is fed up with the navel gazing, arm chair, holier than thou, progressive idiots who want to keep blacks enslaved and whites superior – but then, I must remember I am a racist.

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Leaving The EU and Becoming the UK Once Again.


Recently, some of my English friends have been discussing whether or not the UK should leave the EU. The majority are torn between the ‘goodies’ that the EU promises but have yet to deliver, and wanting out so they can once again make their own decisions instead of being told what they can and cannot do as a country. The EU is forcing their laws and ideals on the countries who join them, and some are becoming tired of being used in such a manner. So, here are my two cents worth on the topic.

From an outsider perspective:

Once England joined the EU, the downward trend from a solid world leader, economically advanced, country toward an enslaved, powerless, nonentity began. As the years go along, that downward trend has continued until no one even knows what England stands for any longer.

You are over run with anti English illegal immigration, (much like the US), and your leadership is kowtowing and bending over to kiss the proverbial rear end of the very people who hate you the most. No longer are you free to decide anything for yourselves, including how you think or speak, because it might be construed as ‘hurtful’ to the illegals. Read that as the government being terrified of the criminal elements and want to keep them ‘happy’ and calm. Even if it means handing over the laws of the land that have served your country well for thousands of years in favor of their barbaric laws.

Since we left the UK, I have watched health care become a mockery rendered down to health and safety insanity rules, the value of the UK coin become worth less and less in the world markets, the cost of living climb higher on a nearly daily basis, and the value of human life degenerate into a ‘hurry up and die’ level. The honor, pride, and nationalism of the English people is tarnished, and the strong have been brainwashed into being afraid, powerless, and unable to excel in case it should offend someone who isn’t willing to put forth the effort to excel,

There is a huge brain drain of young people packing up and moving away from the country and taking their talent and abilities with them because there is no real future in the EU for anyone other than the corrupt politicians and controllers of every aspect of your life. Soon the country will be nothing more than dead beats, anti English, Christian hating illegal immigrants, old people, and the uber rich who use the UK as a jumping off spot for the rest of Europe. You will be taxed out of a middle class, and working class, so only the rich and the folks on the dole can afford to remain in places like London and even Nottingham.

Now, having said that, I realize I have no horse in this race. It won’t have an impact on my life in any way, but it will on my friends who do live in the UK. I want to see the pride back on the faces of my friends, not the stress and worry that is so obvious these days. Besides, i love England, But I won;t be back until it is safe to walk down the street without worrying about being bombed. I can’t carry a weapon there, and in today’s world, I won’t go anywhere without one.

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.

“Inaction is not an excuse for failure to thrive.”


“Inaction is not an excuse for failure to thrive.”

I’ve noticed lately that a lot of people my age tend to simply stop. They stop doing fun things, they stop being involved, they stop thinking and growing intellectually. They just stop. Then they sit about and complain about how boring life is, how hard it is to do things they used to do, how much they wish they had done such and such before they got too old. They are failing to thrive in the late years of their lives. And there is no excuse for that- period.

I know, things are a bit harder to do when knees hurt,backs don’t want to bend, and the body gets tired much easier than it did at the age of forty. We all have to slow down,but that doesn’t mean we have to stop. It may take longer, but there is no reason not to at least try.

Years ago there was a movie entitled Cocoon followed by another, Cocoon Returns. If you haven’t seen them, I suggest watching them at least once. It starred a lot of “stars” who were getting quite elderly. All stuck in a nursing home, waiting to die, fussing at one another, etc. Until things change due to a visit from the aliens. Look, I know it is really a sappy story, but what I loved about it was the willingness of almost all of the elderly folks to embrace that which was different. If their youth didn’t return, their joy for life certainly did. And, at the end of the day, their inaction became action, and their lives infinitely better.

Another movie I loved was Driving Miss Daisy, a stellar performance by one and all. Again, another character that defies the tendency to just sit down and stop. Fried Green Tomatoes is a fantastic film. Kathy Bates and Jessica Tandy were great together and the flashback between Mary-Louise Parker and Mary Stuart Masterson is equally dynamic. At the end of the day, we are still not sure which woman Jessica Tandy was as the elderly friend of Kathy Bates. Ambiguity saturates the film, while turning Katy Bates’ character from a meek doormat into a woman filled with confidence. And, of course, the character played by Shirley Mclaine in Steel Magnolias is just like I want to be when I get old.

I see many older folks off and doing things all over the world. They travel, explore, serve missions of compassion – regardless of sore knees and aching backs. They move, act, and they live every minute of every day. That is what I want to do too.

When our youngest son went off to college, my husband and I decided to work our way around the world. Eight years later, we finally returned to the US. As we were raising our granddaughter, she went right along with us. We lived in London, Hong Kong, and New Zealand, and only came back to the US due to health issues and the awful Socialized Medical care in NZ. We traveled all over each region and were enriched many times over by our experiences.

But I was in my forty’s when we did that. Now I am sixty, and it is going to become more difficult to do some of the things we did. So, we chose other things to do so we could travel. A cruise or four, a road trip across the US, and our big adventure this year is to travel across country by train. I don’t hike for miles any longer, but I sure can sit and enjoy the view from the train.

So there is no excuse not to thrive, people. Just get up, take a few steps, find a hobby that fulfills you, volunteer as a surrogate grandmother to rock babies at the hospital. Volunteer at the schools or libraries to help kids with their reading skills. Go help out a nursing home if you have a talent like playing the piano. There are a multitude of things you can do to overcome the lack of inertia and sedentary inaction. For me, being with my grandchildren is one of my greatest motivators. I write, I hang out on social media sites, I keep up with friends and work on my family history, and I am planning on taking art lessons. I have always wanted to learn how to paint. That will be so much fun!

So, you are old, so what? Inaction is not an excuse for failure to thrive. Just because your body is starting to creak and moan, it doesn’t mean your brain isn’t functioning. (Unless you have a serious condition, of course.) With all the medical miracles out today, most of us will live well into our eighties or nineties.

I have a friend who is ninety-eight. For the several decades, she has traveled the world following the performances of the operas of Wagner. All on her own, she would jump on a plane and off she would go to Italy, France, Germany, or any place in the world that the operas were being performed. What an amazing lady

who just kept on going like an Eveready Battery. She is running down now, but she is still in control of her life and decided to go home until the end of her days. It is heartbreaking, but at the same time, what a life she has had! Even now, she keeps busy with doing her family history and chatting with her friends and family.

Even if you are homebound, unable to walk, unable to drive, so what? There are a million things you can do to keep your brain healthy and busy. Never just stop and wait to die. We all have a finite amount of time here in this life. I could spend it worrying about death, or I can just get on with living while I am still here.

The more we let inaction rule our lives, the less likely we are to live a long life. Not just because our bodies need to move to function well, but because our brains atrophy at an alarming rate. Inaction is not an excuse for failure to thrive. But it is only you that can take that first step. I can’t wait to become a feisty old woman who says exactly what she wants to say about everything.

Come on people, get up, find a cause, reason, purpose, or passion to fill your life. Go on!

 

No Tech Christmas


It occurred to me, oh, several months ago, as I was organizing my Christmas list, that I wanted to give my grandchildren vintage toys. Well, remakes of vintage toys, the originals are far too pricey. I wanted them to have a Christmas where nothing they received from my husband and I needed a battery, cable, or plug in. It seems that we have overwhelmed our kids with things that beep, flash, talk, and require constant attention. It was time to get back to basics.

For my nine year old grandson, there were a set of stilts, modern and better made, but stilts, nonetheless. A honest to goodness wooden yoyo along with a trick book just like they had in the 1950’s, along with crazy straws, paddle balls, a board game, several joke books, and the Dangerous Book for Boys. I added a science project about gross things, and treats. Not one thing required any sort of power except boy power. He loved everything, and was working to master the yoyo when they went home.

For my six year old granddaughter, we got an art set. A real, honest to goodness set with everything from paints to pencils and everything to go with it. She is really into drawing and such. Several coloring books joined the set, along with lots and lots of paper. She also go the crazy straws and paddle balls, but girl stuff too, like a pair of shoes and an out fit. She got the Daring Book for Girls, that matched Nick’s for boys. And hair pretties along with a grooming kit. Nothing needed power other than the power of a girl. She was over the moon, and spent hours drawing.

And our little Addie? Her favorite toys is a small felt dolly I picked up for a buck at the dollar store. Who would have though!? We also got her a tent to play in, and to help corral her when we need to have our hands free for something. She loves that too, along with the drum, and soft toys she got. She was really having more fun with with the paper and boxes than anything.

It is easy to go on line and pick out things that beep and buzz for kids. It is much harder to think of the way their minds work and come up with innovative ways to entertain them. It is easy to let a machine entertain them, but it is, in my opinion, to encourage them to explore, invent, create, and study the world around them. Making them the center of the play, not the machine, will stretch their minds, help them create, and encourage exploration in all manners of topics.

Next year is going to be a challenge, but I am already doing research, and I expect something will come to mind. Like Jax and a jump rope for Bella, and some sort of cool science experiment for Nick. I’m thinking mad scientist, cool stuff. Addie will be easy, everything from toys to clothes . . . and boxes and paper.

I love being a Nana.

A Conversation on Race.


I had a conversation, via a social media site, with an old friend of 40 years or so. It started out with one comment, evolved into another. And even though we are good friends, we see things very differently.

J said:

I love people. White,black,yellow and brown. Old and young. I have been fortunate to have different folks in my life. It is my greatest wish and dream that we can all look at each other and respect the differences we have. Embrace that we aren’t the same and accept things we don’t understand. This is my mantra.

Although I appreciate her perspective, one thing bothered me a great deal. The whole issue of skin color first.

So, I replied:

When we stop labeling people with colors, only then will we be accepting of everyone. I prefer to say I respect all peoples. I can’t say I love them if I don’t know them. And some people I won’t ever love because of the way they treat others. Respecting the humanity of another is more vital than love, because it accepts their negative attributes and positive attributes equally.

Love is a word thrown around far to casually. That demeans the value of meaning of the word and emotions it evokes. Love comes in many levels, from agape love of deep friendship, to the passion of romantic love. But a global love of all mankind is impossible as long as we maintain a thinking brain capable of reason and individual thought. We will always have our prejudices, and our exclusiveness of those who are different than our norm. An alien invasion might bring humans of all sort together against a common enemy, but as soon as we are safe, we will go right back to squabbling like children.

J said:

Well we would be ignorant to not acknowledge color and it’s differences. It would be a kumbya world if we could say “human being”, but we don’t. Let’s wake up smell the coffee and talk about these things openly and honestly. That’s it for now.

I replied:

How is it ignorant to not notice color? Culture and language sure, because culture and language are different from place to place. But neither has anything to do with color. I know blond haired Mexicans of German descent. So, am I supposed to look at their skin color and make a judgment on whether they are Mexican or German? Their families have lived in Mexico for three generations, are they still German just because they have light skin?

Skin color doesn’t matter a damn to me. I’ve lived in too many places with too many different cultures. What matters is how people treat other people, and how they make the world around them a better place.

Coming from a multicultural family, with every race from American Indian, to African, to European, and even a bit of several other groups mixed in my blood lines, I have relatives who are everything from snow white to dark brown. A family reunion is a colorful site to see. But, we are all related.

So is most of humanity in one way or another. Kumbya moment or not, when you can look past color and see the human beings FIRST, then you are truly on the way to acceptance and INclusion instead of EXclusion of everyone.

One of the things I found most wonderful about living all over the world is getting to know women of other countries. The thing is, once we found a way to communicate, we discovered we are very much alike. Everyone has different experiences, naturally, but at the core level, we are very much alike. We love our families, we work hard, we are smart, and each of us have that giving spark and deep down urge to nurture, even if we don’t have kids. We get each other’s humor, and we understand each other with compassion. And we can do all of that with a look, a smile, gestures, and a nod of the head or wink of the eye. And skin color has nothing to do with it. It is all about being a human being.

In a perfect world, everyone would get past the color issue. But, we are all human, and it isn’t ever going to be a perfect world. However, I hold out hope that some day everyone will learn to respect the differences as much as the likeness of one another. And I am blessed to have already crossed that threshold. Still, there are some people I will never love, or even like, because of the way they treat others. And that makes me human and imperfect too.

No response from J yet.

So now I am awake and thinking this over instead of sleeping. I cannot find a way past how I think, because to me it is so very wrong to look at skin color first. Yet, here in America, we do, and that bothers me a great deal more than I thought it did. Because I don’t care about race or skin color, I simply cannot get my head around the idea that it is so important to other people. Each race has issues, some more than others, about the entire topic. And I am not talking black and white only, it is also obvious in other groups who come here, move into the same area creating a cultural ghetto, and sit around hating America and their neighbors for being different. When they talk about it, skin color always seems to be one of the first comments on the list of “Why we hate …”.

I live in what many call the Mid-South. Traditionalism is greatly valued here. This is a former slave state, and has a huge population of their descendants. In the five years that we have lived here, I have never seen anyone be disrespectful to another because of skin color. It is almost a conscious decision that everyone has lived here for many generations, and that is all that matters. The only people they look at twice are “outsiders or Northerners”. Because, like in many places, if your people haven’t been here for 100 years, you are new to the area. But, Southern hospitality trumps all, and people are welcomed with a graciousness that is unexpected.

Memphis is the largest city anywhere near me, and it also has a huge population of black Americans. As with all large cities, it has it share of crime. There are areas that I will never go to, day or night, because it is too dangerous. Those areas are mostly white, black, or Hispanic. One race, one language, and exclusion of those who are different, creates racism. There are also areas where I may be the lightest person in ten miles, but no one cares as long as I am respectful. The same goes for my area. Mostly white, but mixed with several other cultures, as long as people are respectful, there are never any racial problems.

Yet, there are still those who have prejudices that are taught to them from birth. And that is a true shame. We, as human beings, should have evolved past that by now. Instead, we see certain groups encouraging racism toward others just because of skin color, affluence, or any number of petty differences. Creating a false idea of caste and classes is one of the surest ways of dividing people.

Giving a face to the seven deadly sins is an instant creation of anger, fear, hatred and racism. Using the pulpit to encourage that behavior is absolutely against the tenants of nearly every religion I have studied. Yet, we see it happening all over the country. Using racism to score votes is equally abhorrent, yet it is regularly done from coast to coast every election cycle. Inciting fear and hatred is against everything this country has worked toward for generations, yet there are still those who use both as a way to prod people into discontent. Bearing false witness about another is a sin, yet so called religious people do it all the time toward other religious people who are “different.” And still, in today’s so called enlightened world, we use race and skin color to create offense, and highlight differences among us. Until we get past that and accept the humanity behind the skin, it won’t change and we will be that much worse off for it. .

Three Generations


As I was holding my new great granddaughter and watching her milk drunk little face fight off sleep, I was struck by a sudden, overwhelming, love for her. It felt, in many ways, just like the love I felt for my new born sons many years ago. I guess those innate nurturing emotions never fade.

I was a young mother. By the time I was twenty-one, our two boys were born. It wasn’t easy to be so young, poor, and parents. But we were, so we just worked harder, made do with less, and loved our kids. We learned to accept the fact that one of us would be out driving around in the middle of the night to sooth a grumpy, over tired baby. We learned to live with sticky mystery goo on hands and faces. We could wrangle a two year old into the bath while talking on the phone and feeding a new born. We were fast diaper changers, quick to feed a baby, and very good at carrying on a conversation with each kid and each other at the same time. Our house was loud, active, and somewhat crazy.

I never got the laundry completely done, not even when they were teenagers. I was always facing a sink filled with dishes, and a house that was beyond messy. But, my boys and I had fun, and it was much more interesting to be with them than it was to clean house. We survived bumps, bruises, bike wrecks, fist fights, stitches, and broken bones. Not to mention childhood illnesses and germ filled school days. It didn’t matter to me that things went unfinished or undone when a Scouting project or school project took up our evenings. Dishes would still be there the next day. We managed the teenage years. Not as well as we could have, but we managed.

Then, suddenly, my boys were grown. And, before I was ready, our first grandchild was on the way. She was born between Christmas and New Years, and we were thrilled to have a girl to spoil. We never really thought we would raise her, but when we lost her father, we did. So instead of cars and building forts in the woods, we had a little girl who knew she was a princess. She spent six months of her third year determined to turn used computer parts into a time machine. And she refused to go to sleep unless her Papa told her about another Princess Crystal adventure. I honestly think that those stories were as real to her as her own life. We did all the things we did with our boys, only differently. She was, and is, high maintenance in many ways. And our greatest delight was to see her riding on her horse in a show. She is a natural. But, suddenly she was a grown woman, with a baby of her own on the way.

Our second son gave us two delightful grandchildren. A boy and a girl. Both are smart, funny, opinionated, and a joy to us. It is different from our first grandchild, it is more like being a real Nana and Papa rather than a parent. Our son is a single father, and he does a super job raising his children. The divorce was not amicable, but at least he gets to see his kids every day. When I see him telling them the exact same things I told him when he was in trouble as a kid, I smile inside knowing I did something right.

Now I have a great granddaughter. She is only three weeks old, and, like most babies, she has taken over our home and our hearts. I have raised, or helped to raise, two generations of children. And at the age of 58, I get to be involved with a third generation. And as I talk to my granddaughter, I hear the words I told her about raising her come straight from her heart as she talks about raising her daughter.

I am a mother, grandmother, and a great grandmother. My life has been raising kids, encouraging my husband, and constantly improving me. I do not regret one moment of being a parent to two rowdy boys and one little princess. It has been the greatest accomplishment of my life, better than my degrees, and all the world travel we experienced. Raising kids to be faithful, hard working, patriotic, and dedicated men and women is the best thing I have ever done, or will ever do.

If you take the jump to parenthood, you will see that all the work, lack of sleep, school projects, and laughing at the dinner table is well worth it. Because that crying baby in aisle two of the grocery store that annoys you now, is going to grow up one day, and he will take on his world from the lessons his parents taught him.

Three generations of children fill my heart. I am blessed and thankful for the opportunity to love them.

Comforting Traditions


I have come to the undeniable conclusion that I am turning into a pack rat. (shudder) I figured that out by taking a look at the exterior of my refrigerator this morning. It had become, one bit of stuff at a time, the standard hoarding place for magnets. Under those magnets were photos, old phone numbers, ancient appointment cards from all sorts of places, bits and pieces of tools, keys, reminders, sticky notes, and plain old STUFF that should have long since gone into the rubbish bin. There were some great things on there too, like the drawings made for me by my grandchildren – two years ago, and a few of the awards Crystal got when she was doing martial arts, when we lived in Virginia – six years ago or more. But most of it was just stuff we all got too lazy to throw away.

What wasn’t on the refrigerator, was our yearly calendar – something that was a mainstay in our home for the past 41 years. Our lives went on the calendar, and when it got too busy, everyone ended up with a different color pen to write in their events, just to keep straight who I was taking to the soccer practice, and who was going to be dropped off to hang out with a friend. School assignments from the class syllabus went on there too, so I could stay on top of what next important project had to be finished first, or when a big exam was coming up. That way I could do the Mom thing, that makes our kids hate us, and nag them to get it done.

Calendars used to be important. At least they were when I was first married and then raising my boys. Now everyone has a smart phone, or PDA, or laptop, or an i Pad. Who needs something hanging on the fridge or bulletin board that has cheesy pictures or boring sayings leaching down the pages, when they can download, upload, tweet, text, FB, or set up the phone to ring an alarm to remind them of the things going on in their lives? Yet another casualty to the advent of the every changing tech world.

When I was a little girl, getting a new calendar each new year was a big deal. At first we got one from the garage where my granddad worked, but when we got old enough to know when the picture of the girls on each month were, shall we say, a bit saucy, my Grannie would get one from the grocery store for free. It was boring, and didn’t have many things worth looking at other than the food we knew we couldn’t afford.

The first time I got a calendar for Christmas, I was thrilled! I was allowed to put everyone’s birthday, important dates, and appointments in the blocks under the pretty picture. It was so exciting to be able to cross off days for big days and events. My first calendar was all about Pioneers who settled in Oklahoma and the west. Old photographs, drawings, and on the page for September, a map that I studied until the page fell out. That was when I realized the world was massive, and to find my way around I would need to understand maps. I am still a map junky. Forget Map Quest of any of the maps on line, give me a paper map with a million details and I go anywhere my dreams take me.

I’ve had calendars with cats, dogs, horses, Harley Davidson Motorcycles, cute kids, bratty kids, dolls, Scouting, guns, cartoons, castles, great writers, great artists, and much more gracing the months and edifying those who take the time to read the words on them. One of my favorites was a calendar that Riley made for me in Cub Scouts. Each month had a finger print or hand print turned into an animal on it. It was stapled at the top, and not all of the boxes were straight, but I loved that calendar and used it for the whole year.

So, this year, I bought a calendar with silly cartoon cats doing all sorts of obnoxious things. I wrote in everyone’s birthdays, added a few anniversaries, big events, and goals. Now that my refrigerator is DE-junked, I have put it on the front with huge magnets that will hold it all year. Now I feel organized and a bit more in control. Like comfort food, comfortable traditions can make our world right in the midst of change and chaos. All I have to do now, is keep everyone else from using it for the family bulletin board and a place to stick stuff they don’t want to take the time to put away.

It is Christmas, damn it!


So, here we are again at that time of year when we are supposed to be filled with love, peace, and harmony – celebrating the birth of one of the best loved men in the world and beyond. Right. Sure. At least that is how it was when I was a kid, and when my children were small. Not today.

Today we have the progressive left, atheists, and general whiners and moaners who try to stand in the way of Christians celebrating one of their most important HOLY DAYS. Christmas, people, is a Holy Day for Christians. Yes, I know, it is also the celebration of Hanukkah for the Jewish people. It is also the winter festival for tree huggers, pagans, and people who like to dance naked around a bonfire. Fine, wonderful for them too! A Holy Day that is sacred to so many is something to enjoy.

Not Christians, however. We aren’t supposed to be allowed to have a Holy Day. No celebrating in our traditional ways that have come from all corners of the world along with early immigrants. Nope, not according to atheists, who worship non religion more fervently than most people who profess to be religious – no matter their faith. No celebration for Christians according to the progressive left, because someone, (THEM), just might be offended by the American traditions of celebrating a religions HOLY DAY.

However, having a secular day of celebration with Santa Claus and presents is fine. But no Christmas tree, it must be called, instead, a holiday tree. Holiday tree? But that has the words HOLY DAY in it, and therefore can be construed as religious. Still, those that hate Christians can go with the holiday theme, as long as it stays secular.

If a town has traditionally put up a manger with Joseph and Mary, and the usual cast from the story of the birth of Jesus found in the New Testament, in the book of Luke, the secular anti Christian people have a tantrum, file law suits, and insist that it be removed because it might be insulting to some. Yet, no one complains about a menorah, being placed in the town center, or pagans doing their dances, or Muslims, Hindus, or Buddhists doing what ever it is they do for this season. So why the war on Christians?

The Constitution says nothing about separation of Church and State only that there will be no state religion. Try telling that to an atheist or secular progressive wonk. American was founded by Christians. It was settled by Christians. The very fiber of America comes from a solid base in law and morals of Christianity. Granted, the Indians were here first. But even they had strong religious beliefs that often mesh with Judeo-Christian philosophies. But there is still a war on Christians.

It is bad to be religious, it is bad to have our beliefs displayed by having a Christmas Tree, bright lights, candy canes, gifts for our loved ones, and a feast to remind us all of the feast of words from the Scriptures. But, you see, for Christians, it is what we do to celebrate our Holy Day. So, we are under siege to forget our traditions, forget our religion, forget the meaning behind all we do at this time of year, and simply go with the Santa Claus theme.

Sorry, folks, but in my house, it is CHRISTMAS, damn it. And that is what it will always be. If you don’t want to be part of the Holy Day as we celebrate it, more power to you. Don’t celebrate as I do, do your own thing, or not, as you choose. However, I have the same right to do as I wish.

Without Christians, and Christmas, there probably wouldn’t even BE a holiday this time of year across the world. December 25th would be just another dreary winter day, or summer day if you live at the bottom of the world, without meaning or great value. Now wouldn’t that be miserable? Instead the world has the joy of Christmas, (or secular holiday), to lighten our lives for a few minutes.
It used to be that Christmas was just a simple day of prayer and worship for Christians. Then the pagan feasting and other traditions were added, followed by gift giving, Christmas trees from Germany, and Sinter Klaus from Holland, nativities from Italy, songs from all over the world, right up to modern lights and decorations. But, at the end of the day, it is still a day for prayer and worship, and remembrance of the baby that was born who changed the world – and died for our sins.

It is CHRISTMAS, a time to count our blessings, love one another, forgive one another, and let one another celebrate as their beliefs dictate. May God Bless and Keep you, each and every one. Because it is CHRISTMAS, damn it!

Fairy Story (for Crystal)


“You could dance,” she said, to the small fairy under the oak leaf,  in the moonlight with silver streaks in your hair. “Or, you could walk the edges of the shadows and dare the night to catch you.  Come along, no time to weep, we must begin the revel, and you must put away your sorrow. Tonight you will learn to laugh away the sadness and find joy for tomorrow. Come, out from there. You are not a child any longer, live you will, live you must, and the mortal man you have loved, will, in time, become less and less of a memory.  Come, dance, it will lift your heart from its depths of unhappiness.”
In a swirl of moonlit silver the queenly figure danced away to a tune only heard in the fairy ring, deep in a forest glen.  The pipes and drum were played swiftly in a crescendo to match the flying notes of the violins. The small glen was awash with swaying and prancing minute figures, who, in sudden joy, would unfurl wings of shimmering gold and float far off the ground , spreading an incandescent light all about the trees.
One, however, sat alone under the oak leaf near her home tree, knees locked in her arms, head down, weeping.  She had just arrived from the outer world of humans, a world where, for many of the human years, she had lived the illusion of being one of them.  A time, when against all advice from her fellow fairies, she loved a man.  And, as these things often do, he aged, grew tired, and finally, despite all her magic, died. She grieved there among the leaves, and saw no joy in the morrow. The small fairy felt so odd being back to her given size after all those years away.  She didn’t feel free, she felt small and insignificant. Sitting alone, the near shadows creeping ever closer, the soft silver of her hair hid her face and the deep green eyes so common among her kind. Her magic aura kept skipping around her, first purple, then green, then a bright, glowing gold, but she took no notice.  She wanted to be alone.  Alone, so she could suffer and no one would tell her nay.
In time, the fairies tired and flew away to homes and beds among the trees. The music stopped and the musicians fell asleep under the nearest toadstool or flower, content that they would be safe in the magic around them. As the stars faded one by one and the sun began to turn the deep night into dawn, the fairy stirred from her place and stood to face the ever brightening east.  One loan piper watched and began to play a soft, somber melody.  In a clear, sweet tone, the music reached into the heart of the sad little fairy and she began to dance.  She danced for the long years she and her man would be apart, for a fairy lives nearly forever. She danced for the sorrow she felt, and she danced for solace from pain.  Around the fairy circle she danced, twirling and leaping in an every increasing frenzy.  Then, when it seemed she must take flight to survive, she dropped to the soft green grass, and slept.
The piper, alone in the magic of the small fairy, stared at her in awe.  For never had he felt such power, such magic, from within the circle. As the fairy slept, the sun rose higher, creeping across the glen, ever closer to her.  Its warmth sent rays of comfort to her heart and mind as she slept the cleansing sleep.  One stood watch, the piper, and in time he placed a leaf over her for protection and added warmth. All the day long, as shadow chased the sun, he watched and tended the needs of the powerful, yet sad, little fairy.
As all things do, the day came to an end.  One by one the revel makers came back to dance under the full moon, only to stop when they saw the gentle fairy asleep in the midst of their circle.  They came one by one, quiet and in reverence, for the piper told all in the silent fairy language – from mind to mind – what she had done.  They stood, waiting for the magic to begin again, so that they could, too, partake.  Slowly she stretched her arms and legs, rolling on to her back.  A yawn later she was standing before them in all her silver glory.  She smiled, and the crowd of fairies gasped at the beauty of her face.  Then in a voice, soft, sweet, and warm as honey, she told them of her dream.
“I danced, alone in a garden circle, filled with the aroma of roses and lemons. I danced alone, in the magic of moonlight, with a piper only to urge me on.  I danced, in joy, in sorrow, and in pain.  I danced for love, for suffering, for solace.  I danced, to complete my circle and to end from whence I began.  Alone, I tread the world of mankind.  Alone, I tread the circle.  In my dream, my true love came, not the passion of youth.  I took his hand, felt his magic, and knew eternal love.  In my dream, I am whole, in my dream I am true, in my dream I am magic.  And now I wake, surrounded by love.  I know that I am home.
I will miss the man of  my youth, I will love him always.  But here, among the fairy ken, I will find a magical joining.”
All the males surged forward, hoping she would hand-fast them, for her beauty and magic shown about her.  But, she turned and walked to the edge of the shadows, and took the piper’s hand.  “This male,” said she, “will fill my life with gentle compassion and love.  I, in return, shall be his muse, and magical music there shall always be.”  She bowed to the queenly figure, who bowed in return, and walked away through the trees.  Now and then, when the wind is right, and the moon is softly full, wanderers will hear a sweet melody played upon a pipe. In their hearts a yearning will grow to turn to the one they love, to hold them and tell them so.  It is, of course, the small fairy and her piper, leading hearts to hearts still yet, for they will live nearly until forever.
K.J.Combs
26, November, 1998