And the People said....

.

Now, eight years ago the People installed a Republican controlled Congress.

And then the People said, “Repeal Obama Care!”  And the Republican controlled Congress replied, “You can’t do that.”

And then the People said, “Secure the borders and stop illegal immigration.”  And the Republican controlled Congress replied, “You can’t do that.”   

And then the People said, “Don’t pull our troops out of Afghanistan.”  And the Republican controlled Congress replied, “You can’t do that.”   

And then the People said, “Defund Planned Parenthood.”  And the Republican controlled Congress replied, “You can’t do that.”   

And then the People said, “Don’t make a deal with Iran.”  And the Republican controlled Congress replied, “You can’t do that.”

And then the People said, “Don’t make a deal with Cuba.”  And the Republican controlled Congress replied, “You can’t do that.”

And then the People said, “Stand by Israel.”  And the Republican controlled Congress replied, “You can’t do that.”   

And then the People said, “We don’t believe in Climate Change.”  And the Republican controlled Congress replied, “You can’t do that.”   

And now, the Republican controlled Congress chants, “Re-elect me!”  And I will say, “No way.”

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Cry Baby, Cry

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How odd, I thought.  Odd that France has now taking the position as the leader of the civilized world.  It wasn't quite 80 years ago when France ran from the advancing troops of the German Nazi regime without much of a fight.  They were the laugh of the world and were called many a nasty words for failing to stand and fight.




Things seem different now.  France has become the leader in the fight against evil Islamic radicals.  They are organizing forces (even including Russia) and are now spearheading an effort to defeat ISIS.  At home, they have given more authority to the police to identify immigrant Muslims who practice radicalism Islam, revoke their citizenship and deport them to where their country belong.  And I applaud them for taking the correct stance.




Now, I cry frequently for America.  Tears frequently flood my eyes to think of where we are today.  No longer the leader of Free World, having lost the fundamentals and principles that America was founded upon.  Gone is an American leader who talked softly but carried a big stick, but instead bows before foreign kings while apologizing for acts taken by previous administrations.




I cry because our President embraces Islam, which is an enemy of the United States.  You see, Islam is incompatible with the ways of the free world.  Civilized nations like most all outside of the Arab world can not co-exist with Islam.  Plain and simple.  It is within their doctrine (the Quran) to kill anyone, in any country, not a Muslim.  Plain and simple.  And that means ALL practicing Muslims, whether thought of "radicalized" or no.  There is no such thing as moderate Islam because their own doctrine prevents it.  Their goal, by doctrine is to convert the entire world to Islam, and kill those that refuse.
 


The growth of the Muslim community has multiplied many a fold since our leader took office.  Tens of thousands of Muslims have flooded into America with the blessing and invitation from Obama, and he has authorized an intake to America of 1000,000 more by year's end.  And I cry for my country.




Islamic immigration presents a much greater threat to our way of life than the South Americans sneaking across our southern border.  Islam must be eradicated from the United States.  And to do that we must first deny all entry visas to Muslims.  We must stop allowing Muslims to build new mosques in America, and deconstruct the problem mosques already here.  We must revoke all temporary visas issued to anyone from an Islamic country and deport those immediately.  We must identify Muslim refugees immigratants that are capable of fighting, train them as fighters, and return them to thier contry to fight thier own battle.  And finally we must remove all other practicing Muslims in America.  I cry because I know that Islam can not co-exist in a civilized world. 


And I cry because many of you will call me a radical and just roll over and give my country away as the French did a few years ago.
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Hold the Aplause

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The following post was published by a fellow Christian blogger, Christy Lee Parker.  I condensed and modified the original post.  Feel free to visit her site, madworldnews.com, for the complete version, as well as her other posts.

Yet another police officer was recently fired following public outrage after the officer arrested a black teenager at her school.  Perhaps you have seen the news and social media reports of the incident which has caused the the masses to applaud his termination.

But there is much more to this incident than what has been reported, and maybe the officer did not act so irresponsibly as it might seem.  But like so many other incidents of this nature, no one will ever know if there was evidence to support the officer, as he put on trial by the Court of Public Opinion and fired without any opportunity to defend himself.

 We are raising a generation of entitled brats who think they are above all authority and the law. What are we teaching “children” and young adults when a 17- or 18-year-old can disrupt a class, ignore 3 adult authority figures, and strikes an officer, and the officer gets fired for handling the situation?

If you are applauding the termination of Officer Fields and defending that brat, go ahead and pat yourself on the back. It’s this mindset that’s breeding disrespectful punks and causing them to get shot. Stop making kids think they are above the law and authority.

And before anyone says, “What if that was your daughter?” I’d like to think my kid wouldn’t disrupt the class, and ignore authority figures.  If she did, she should expect a similar reaction and even worse when her father got hold of her.

But then again, maybe there is no father in her home.

 

America in Decline

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America was built upon long standing beliefs that value the sanctity Christian morals entrenched in the religion for centuries.  But all that is about to change forever.


Now it might shock you to hear that the church is counter cultural.  Always has been, and always should be.  That was the way it was designed.  So you might ask, "How can that be?"  So, here is the straight forward answer to that.


You see, culture has always been imperfect, so Jesus created the Church to give His followers a path to enduring peace and eternal life.


Now don't run away so fast now.  The post is not intended to pound my morals in your face.  It is merely intended to explain why I believe the American way (at least as the majority of us know it) is in such rapid decline.  And it should also be noted that my opinions are learned from personal experiences, and together with other article published by a variety of backgrounds and beliefs.


So, now that you understand why the church was created, perhaps you can better understand my take on things. 


The Church was created for, and must shape culture because the culture is imperfect.  The Church should not change with the culture, but stand fast in it's ways.  The traditional Church has greater strength than one that flows with one that flows with the changes in culture.


The Church must also make it clear what it's teachings are by it's words and actions.  And in doing so, the Church should welcome everyone by being open to all, but the Church should the impression that it condones any sin of the congregation in attendance. 


As an example, if someone who enters a Church that believes Marriage can be between only one male and one female, that Church should bear no obligation to change in order to accept that follower.  And there are many more of these challenges that you might offer, but I'll always stand fast with the teachings of the traditional church.


That said, it is uncontested that Christianity is in rapid decline in America.  But if you compare the timeline of that decline, it will reflect the same timeline of America's decline.  And I contend that it was not caused by the decline within the traditional Church, but the decline in morals and values of the traditional Americans.


Any any church that sacrifices it's culture in order to serve a greater number of followers will prove to fail.
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Homeless is Priceless

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On September 20, 2012, I published an article entitled "11 Years to Greece."  If you haven't read it, or have forgotten its content, feel free to review it as it is a direct reflection on what is about to happen in America today.




In a recent news report, the price of homelessness was discussed using data provided by various government entities.  New York City Police reported that each chronic homeless person uses over 40 Thousand Dollars of tax payer funds per year to control.  In Salt Lake City, the estimated was 20k.  All across America cities are reporting and exorbitant part of their budgets are being eaten up by providing crime enforcement, medical care, and shelter to habitual and chronic homeless people, most of which chose that lifestyle.  And I'm sure that the costs paid by the taxpayers to combat the homeless plight is similar in your city.




The news report stated that The State of Utah began a new project called "Housing First" which gives each chronic homeless person their own apartment.  Actually, the recipients are asked to pay either $50 or 30 percent of their income, but that payment is almost never collected since the homeless deny that they receive any income.  The report concluded that ---Presto---- the homeless plight in Utah was decreased immediately by a whopping 91 Percent, and cited it as a solution to the epidemic of chronic homelessness across America!!  What else could this Lefty reporter conclude?  Anyone d be a fool to not accept a free home wouldn't they?




Now, isn't that exactly what just happened in Greece where for 50 years, almost no one works, and those that do work for the government?  And as the people in Greece riot in the streets, demanding austerity, some in America seem to think that is the way.  Like the report's Democratic Leftist Author, Ryan Cooper, of MSNBC. 




Seems like that is just what is happening now in America, wouldn't you say?  While it appears it could actually be cheaper to give the homeless homes when compared to the policing and medical costs the homeless create, it certainly is not the magical cure Cooper claims it is.
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I Was a Police Officer

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I'm not sure of who authored this.  I found it browsing cop blogs.

I Was A Police Officer             
                        
Today, I will not answer the radio call that your boyfriend has come home
drunk and is beating you again.                 
        

Today I will not answer the radio call that your 16 year old daughter, who
is very responsible, is four hours late coming home from school.                 
        
Today I will not answer the radio call that your store has been robbed or
your house has been burglarized.                 
        
Today I will not stop a drunk driver from killing someone. I will not catch
a rapist or a murderer or a car thief.                 
        
Today I will not answer the radio call that a man has a gun or tried to
abduct a child or that someone has been stabbed or has been in a terrible
accident.                 
        
Today I will not save your child that you locked in a car or the child you
were too busy to watch who went outside and fell into the swimming pool, but
that I revived. No, today I will not do that.                 
        
Why?                 
        
Today, I was suspended from duty for doing my job, because the media,
liberals, a community organizer, a lawyer who formally represented
terrorists and is the US attorney general and a mayor who ran on an
anti-police agenda, who are all advised by a drug dealer, liar and income
tax cheat. AND, all who know nothing about Policing, have vilified my
profession.                 
        

Because -                 
        

Today I was killed by a drunk driver while I was helping push a disabled car
off the highway.                 
        
Today I was shot and killed during a routine traffic stop to simply tell
someone that they had a taillight out.                 
        
Today I was killed in a traffic accident rushing to help a citizen.                 
       

Today I was shot and killed serving a warrant on a known drug dealer.                 
        
Today I was killed by a man when I came by to do a welfare check because his
family was too busy.                 
        
Today I was killed trying to stop a bank robbery or a grocery store robbery.

Today I was killed doing my job.                 
        
A chaplain and an officer will go to a house and tell a mom and dad or a
wife or husband or a child that their son or daughter or husband or wife or
father or mother won't be coming home today. The flags at many police
stations were flown at half-mast today but most people won't know why. There
will be a funeral and my fellow officers will come, a twenty-one-gun salute
will be given, and taps will be played as I am laid to rest. My name will be
put on a plaque, on a wall, in a building, in a city somewhere. A folded
flag will be placed on a mantel or a bookcase in a home somewhere and a
family will mourn.                 
        
There will be no cries for justice. There will be no riots in the streets.
There will be no officers marching, screaming "No justice, no peace." No
citizens will scream that something must be done. No windows will be
smashed, no cars burned, no stones thrown, no names called. Only someone
crying themselves to sleep tonight will be the only sign that I was cared
about.                 
        
I was a police officer. 

It is Not

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It was Not a peaceful protest.  But it was a Riot.  Our Constitution allows anyone to assemble and speak freely.  The law does not allow the blocking of traffic, or obstructing a sidewalk, or destroying public or private property, or assaulting anyone.  So, last nights burning of Baltimore was a riot,  It was never intended to peaceful.  That was evidenced when a pile of rocks and blocks not native to the area mysteriously showed up and were hurled at the cops.  Those rock were brought in to assault the police.

It was not about Race, But it was racist. Black racism.  That was evidenced because they used the trump card to incite the riot accusing the cops of killing yet another innocent Black, yet the cops were also Black.  The Black Mayor admitted she allowed and encouraged the rioters to damage the city, claiming that was necessary to cause change.

He does not unite.  But He is a radical racist himself and does divide.  Obama injected himself into yet another incident involving a Black.  It was no surprise to see a repeat of His past where he sided with the Black while condemning the cop.  Surely you remember his role in supporting his Black professor, over a White cop responding to a break in.  If not, maybe you recall his role in Trayvon Martin, the St. Louis incident, or the NYPD incident.  Maybe you even recall his association with other Black racists, like his preacher, or Al Sharpton.

It was Not about the lack of opportunities for Blacks.  It is about a generation of Blacks demanding something for nothing.  As one Black, masked and dressed like a Muslim terrorist, stated on TV, "I want what you all have, and I'm going to take it,"  It's about generations of welfare and handouts causing little motivation to get a job and become productive.  Yet, this country wants to give them more.  It's not about a lack of education as some claim.  School is free, yet they drop out at age 14 to sell dope, and rape, rob or take whatever they can.  They can only desire to be a Rap music or sports star.  And if they can't they pray on others and ultimately die or end up in prisons.  And it is about the lack of active and effective parenting.

It's not about Blacks getting assaulted.  It is about cops getting assaulted.  Everyone in our country has a right to defend himself against unlawful aggression.  Yes, even the cops.  Yet they are expected to stand down.  And No One should be expected to defend themselves with only their shields against rocks the size of potatoes.

Not in my world.  In my world, someone would have been shot.  And it would not be me.
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Growing

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Married at 16 changed my life.  With a baby on the way, I had to change.  No longer could I hang with my friends, play high school football, or go to cruise the boulevard on Friday nights.  But that was the life that I chose.  I accepted that and soon came to love it.

We filled our home with used furniture and hand-me-down clothing.  Sears was the only business to take the risk of granting us a revolving credit program and to this day, I'm still very loyal to them. We bought at B&W portable TV and paid it off within 6 months, establishing a worthiness credit history. Outstanding credit became a major tool for success.

Seemed like I always had a job, and sometimes two.  Our firstborn came sooner that I ever thought.  Her water broke during the wee hours one morning, As she stood draining in the shower, I reviewed the pamphlet given by her doctor before realizing it was time to head to the hospital, a usual 20 minute drive that I made in 15. And 35 minutes after we arrived, I was a father. Whew!
Not being able to afford the usual 3-day stay, I obtained a release them the following morning.

My family was the pride of my life and were the only ones that I ever felt an alliance with.  We played alone and prayed alone, and we matured together, alone.  A high school equivalency degree (GED), opened some doors to better jobs.  And soon I became the youngest foreman at a local aircraft manufacturing company.  And with those medical benefits, and the purchase of a new house, our daughter's sister was born.
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And we were climbing.
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Obstructions

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She wore green at our wedding that winter day in 1969.  It was a simple church ceremony, with only my immediate family and a high school classmate as a best man.  Seems either no one else was invited, or they didn't care to attend; giving clue to the obstacles that I was about to encounter.  Then off to Knott's Berry Farm for a honeymoon with the $50 I had saved from my dish washing job. There, at a show, a very smart horse was able to tell the crowd how long we had been married.  Never quite figured out how.  Maybe my smiling face and that green dress were clues.

Monday morning, while at baseball practice, I was summoned to the school office and was advised that since I was an emancipated adult, I could no longer attend the school, but was offered an enrollment at the continuation school.  Needless to say, that didn't work for me because I couldn't see myself associating with "those" kind of students.  Actually I was one of those kind to many, but never realized it.

After school, I arrived a bit early for work knowing that I would have new tax forms to complete reporting my filing class.  Turned out I didn't need to because I had been fired.  I recall the owner strongly encouraging me not to get married, but I never dreamed that he would fire me over it.

She wore that same green dress to church that next Sunday.  The entrance to the very small church was blocked by three senior ladies with their arms locked together.  One was sobbing as another informed us that we were no longer welcome to attend.  Seemed odd that could happen at a church where my father-in-law was a Deacon.  We brushed past them and spent our last service at that church.   Should have not surprised me as he was not at our wedding either.  But it certainly was a clue as to the obstructions we were about to face.

It was easy for an unskilled worker like myself to find a job back then as most my age were off to Vietnam.  And I made the most of that by usually working at least two.  From washing dishes, to pumping gas, to picking up trash at a construction site, I worked hard where ever I could to work hard to pay the upcoming medical bills.  My new wife just graduated from job training and landed her first job.  Together we managed to pay the rent of our tiny duplex as I refused to accept any help from anyone.
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The Return

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My time in Germany was wonderful.  But I had become a loner. My siblings were younger, my parents were older, and I never had the chance to establish good friends at school because the school itself was far distant which prevented most after school activities.

But once stateside, things changed.  Friends would gather and listen to my stories abroad and I soon found that I was a cut above them in maturity, and a grade level or two ahead in the California high school that I attended.  And I was the leader of my pack.

Sports, cars, and girls soon became my passion.  But soon, wrestling, baseball, and football gave way to cars, and cars gave way to girls.  Older girls which seemed to be closer to my maturity.  And that seemed to be the case well into my future.

Probably unlike most kids my age, I planned for the future.  Pop was nearing his retirement from the Army and I soon realized that civil service was my ticket, since I could get a blue collar job with minimal education.  And at any given opportunity, I would talk with government workers about their benefits, and such.

At age 16, I realized that I would soon be a father.  What a shocker.  To me, to my parents, to her, to her parents, and everyone else it seemed.  It seemed there was no one who offered any word of encouragement or support for a marriage, not even the gal that was to become my wife.

I always thought Pop was kind of a boozer, kind of ignorant, and kind of distant.  But he reminded me of a talk he once had with me as a child about how important it is make the world a better place, at every opportunity.  Although I never remembered that talk, it was reassuring to me that he supported any decision that I would make that fit his criteria.

So, within a few months, after court ordered emancipation hearings, and clergy counselings,  I found myself married and soon to be a father at age 17.
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Train Rides and Kisses

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It was at the height of the Cold War not long after Russia placed ballistic nuclear missiles in Cuba.   Pop was stationed at a Nike Hercules missile battery atop a mountain outside that Mainbullau town. Often he would often take me to work with him.  The missiles were stored several hundred feet below ground in a bunker.  Several elevator platforms would raise the missiles 4 at a time, to the surface where they could then be launched at Russian bombers invading Europe.  And Pop was in charge of executing the launch after receiving orders from Command.  Drills were conducted frequently and I got to watch.  How proud I was of him.

I attended Junior High and High School in Frankfurt some 70 miles or so from our house in Mainbullau.  The two hour trek each way every morning began when an Army ambulance, which Pop called a "Meat Wagon" would arrive at our house 2 hours before school.  The Meat Wagon made several runs a day down the mountain to Headquarters and back. I'd ride in the back seated on a wooden bench down the winding road 20 miles to a train station where I was dropped off.  I'd then ride the train for about an hour into Frankfurt where another Meat Wagon picked me up and took me to the school on the military base.  The sequence repeated on the return trip.  The routine continued through out the school year making it a 12 hour day for me.

Weekends and summer vacations were special.  When not sightseeing castles with Mom and Pop,  I spent most of the time on the mountain, and most of the time with Inge.  And I liked that.  In time I picked up her lingo and share mine with her.  We laughed and took hikes into the forest.  Inge was a few years older than I and was the daughter of the biggest and most successful farmer in town.

Mom cautioned me about Inge because she was from a higher class than I.  And she was likely wealthy and would soon go off to college in a year or two.  In Those Days, general education in Germany ended at the 8th. grade.  Some kids would then go off to college or a trade school, but most I think, would stay at home and work the farm.

At times while alone I would sing "Down in the Boon Docks," a 60's Billy Joe Royal tune about a poor boy from the other side of the tracks yearning for the rich girl across town, which he knew would never happen.  And I knew that Inge and I could never be.

I kept a diary as I think most kids did back then.  As the time approached that I presumed would be the end of our relationship, we were returning from a walk in the forest, when I asked Inge to make an entry in the book.  Following her short note, she signed it with a kiss leaving a light lipstick smear on the page and closed the book before returning it to me.  Although we never discussed it, I think we both knew our relationship would end, and I knew it just had.

And then I kissed her.
.        

Inge

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In Those Days, Germany was far different from any other place I had been.  And living on that mountain, on a farm very isolated from any recognizable city probably probably magnified the shock of being there that I had.

Our farmhouse was a tine 2 bedroom-1 bath.  It had running water, but only the bath had hot water.  So Mom would keep a kettle of water on the wood burning kitchen stove for dishes and stuff.  A wood burning hot water heater was mounted on the wall above the bath tub that allowed an occasional hot bath after building the fire with in and waiting for it to heat.  And soon, I was designated as the boiler man.

Dad bought 50's VW, and after about two months realized it had a 4-speed transmission and it could actually go faster than the 35 mph he was able to achieve in third.  And at 13 he taught me how to drive.

Soon after the farmer let me drive his tractor to pull a wagon through the field to load hay.  He showed me how to deliver a calf, and I watched him butcher a pig.  I really liked working the farm and trying to pick up the language from the farmer.  He had no children, but I though his wife was very pretty and dressed simply in her Amish looking attire.

When not with the farmer, I was alone.  I spent most of that summer exploring that mountain.  Mom got me a .22 caliber rifle and I took it with me as often as I could deep into the woods.  Every so often, I'd discover someone initials carved into a tree.  Unable to read German, I presumed they were love notes because they were often enclosed by a heart.  And I wondered what love would be like.

Near the center of Mainbullau was a church with a pond in front of it.  One day as I was sitting alone near the pond watching the reflection of the church in the water, a group of girls walked by.  Some were giggling.

It was then that I met Inge.  She approached me and tried to initiate a conversation, but I told her I didn't speak German.  She continued to converse in broken English which really surprised me.  Her friends stood by while we chatted a while.  She was even prettier than the Paula Brown I left back in Brooklyn 6 months earlier.  And I came to like her.
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Ahoy!

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In the Spring following JFK's murder, Pop informed us that he was being transferred to Germany and that we were going with him.

I knew the routine.  I had moved many times before.  Usually it was every three years, but we often lived in several different places during each of his assignments. Seems it took a try or two before he found the perfect place for the family.

Saying goodbye to my friends was difficult to say the least.  And perhaps that was a reason that I really didn't allow myself to have close friends; a trait that I still have today.  But knowing that I'd probably never see Paula Brown again brought tears.  Not Paula, but for me.  You see Paula never knew that I was in love with her.  She was a dream girl to me.  Very light complected, a petite build, and beautiful hair cut short, just before the ears into a Dutch Girl style.  She was so different than any I had ever met.  Seems all of my family were dark complected, a bit thick, and a health stature. The typical military family in Those Days.

The Army was great about moving us.  A private contractor would come to the house, help Mom pack, and then take it all away in a big truck never to be seen again until they came again at our new place.  Pop took the '61 Chevy station wagon somewhere, and then it magically appeared at our destination.

When all the things were packed and all the goodbyes over, we left New York Harbor on a troop carrier, passing the Statue of Liberty before entering the Atlantic.  The ship was kind of like the cruise ships of today, but nowhere near as big or as nice.  Soldiers were housed depending on rank, from the lowest outside on the deck in tents, to the more privileged with families to inside cabins The most elite had access to  State Rooms, Dining halls, and some entertainment. Kids, such as me, were basically assigned to quarters, but we did manage to get on deck for brief periods.

I think it was about a ten day sail to the Port of Bremerhaven, Germany, about 80 miles from Frankfurt.  And Pop, having an assignment in Air Defense was stationed atop a mountain in a town called Mainbullau.  We lived in a rented farmhouse, on a working farm, right next door to the farmer.

While Pop worked and Mom cooked, I hung out with the farmer.  There were less than a dozen families in town, and I began learn German.

And then I met Inge.....
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Pride - Integrity - Guts

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It was in Those Days that my bicycle was stolen.  A red 3-speed Schwinn, and I was the first one in my family to ever have gotten a brand new bike.  It was so tall that I could barely ride it.  I loved it and oiled the crank and wheel hubs regularly.

I ran what must have been several miles home to tell my mother about my bike.  As we drove the neighborhood talking to the store clerk and anyone else whom would talk, it began to set in that I would never see that beautiful thing I got as a gift for my birthday.  And I knew I would never get another one soon.

It wasn't long after we returned home that Mom found me hiding under my bed, crying.  She coaxed me out, sat me on her lap, and we cried together.  It wasn't long before she shook me a bit, told me to stop crying (although she kept on), and made me stand before her.

And she told me to have Pride.  To be proud.  That proud people never cried for themselves because they could overcome any setback.  She promised that I would recover from any sorrow that could ever happen to me, but that was not so for the suffering others might have.  My Mom was crying only for me.  And I knew she had Pride.

And she told me to have Integrity.  To be honest, to speak the truth, and do the right thing - always.

And she told be to have Guts.  To have the courage to defend the innocent and condemn the guilty. To mean what I said and make good on any promise I might make.  And to admit my wrongs, and correct my mistakes.

Pretty heavy stuff for a boy of ten.  And who would have known that I would encounter those same three words, over a decade later, and in a much different world.  And they stood in my mind as vivid as when that day I first heard them.

Pig.

  

Bottles and Ethics

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In Those Days, we lived in military housing sandwiched between Coney Island and Sheepshead Bay, NY.  At 10, I found it strange because it was a far cry from the small rural towns of Colonial America that I was accustomed to.  Once away from the military reservation, I was amazed at the concentration of wealthy people, who I believed were Jews.  And I quickly learned to siphon off a bit of that wealth.

It all started when I learned to collect discarded soda bottles and return them for a 2 cent deposit.  But I soon learned that the bottles refunded were stored in a cage at the rear of the store.  How easy was that?  So I climbed the short fence, took the bottles, and obtained another refund at that very store.

I loved to watch the crabbers along Sheepshead Bay.  Soon I realized that I could walk below the boardwalk at low tide. reach out and grab a line and tie it to a piling, then cut the crab cage free. A few days later I would then sell the cages to other crabbers in the area.

I'd hide beneath the boardwalk at Coney Island and watch the beach visitors to hide their purses beneath their blankets before hitting the surf.  Then I'd take their purse and remove the money before returning it to the blanket.  Sometimes I'd wait until they returned and discovered the theft.

And then it happened.  Someone stole my bike from outside Woolworth's while I was inside spending my take.  I was devastated, and cried for days before telling Mom.  Of course, not knowing that I was a thief as well, she was very sympathetic to me and promised to find a way to replace it someday.

But while waiting for that someday, my guilt grew until I confessed to Mom about the thefts I had done.  After a switching from her, and a spanking from my Dad when he got home,  And I cried, not for the punishment, but for the sorrow I felt for the people I took from.  And my life changed.

Mom took me to the grocery store and repaid my debt for the bottles.  Then she helped me make signs to post about my lost bike, and ones that we posted near the bay for the victim crabbers to contact us to make amends.  She also informed me that I could earn extra money for raking leaves, shoveling snow, and mowing lawns in the summer.

Soon I was able to pay her back for the bottle refunds she repaid, buy a rake and a snow shovel of my own, save for another bike, and buy my little sister a cheap candy at the soda shop where I returned those bottles.

And so it began for my quest to become ethical.

I taught my children what I had learned from my parents, and they passed down those stories to their children  And their children have the same ethics as their Mom and I.
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End of Days

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Growing up in a military family gave great insight to the world around me.  I recall many conversations with my parents, whom incidentally I perceived were old fogies stuck in the Dark Ages, about what the world was coming to.

Blacks struggling for equality dominated my early memories of conversations with my parents.  They worried about the violence in the South.  We'd watch on our pumpkin screen B&W TV showing the cross burnings, the protests, the marches, and the riots, which caused tears and fear on the faces of my mom and dad.  And they would say, "My God, What's our world coming too?"

Race issues seemed to give way to threats of another war, and assignations of political and religious leaders were on their minds.  Duck tails,dresses trimmed above the ankle, bell bottoms, cigarette packs carried in a T-shirt sleeve, rock stars with gyrating hips, and snipers in bell towers caused them to ask again, "My God, What's our world coming too?"  And at times, they would just surrender their fears and submit to what they believed were the coming of the end of days.

And then it was my turn.  Bell towers evolved to elementary school shootings.  Gyrating hips morphed into grabbing of crotches. Drugs, free love, and Vietnam seemed to consume my thoughts.   Israel struggled to survive, and terror appeared in Europe with the IRA.

And then it was here. On our soil.  And it shocked my world.  The Black Panthers, SLA, Bill Ayers, and Timothy McVeigh,  Serial murderers, organized crime, drug wars, and bombings terrorize our neighborhoods every day. And so enters our most recent evil, Radical Islam.  And I am afraid

And I'm sure my children have heard me say, "My God, What's our world coming too?"  And I'm sure their children will hear them say, "My God, What's our world coming too?"  And perhaps, for generations ahead, the cycle will continue.

But is it really the End of Days?  That question is not what is important.  What is important is that I know that the End of Days is coming, and that I remain alert for the sound of the Trumpet, and ready to be judged, and to be ready if called.

While it might not yet be the End of Days, it is absolutely the End of an Era for me and this blog as most of you know it.  While I'll never really give up spreading my thoughts, and encouraging others to follow my views, you will see the change in future publishings.  Perhaps you'll like it, and perhaps you'll move on to another.  Either way, thanks for listening.

And listen for the Trumpets.
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