The Rescue

The rescue started out like a scene from one of the many action films. A Special Forces Team getting ready to free some long missed but not forgotten prisoners of war. The time came and everything went according to the plan with only a couple of minor injuries.

What happened next surprised everyone, including myself. You see I was one of the prisoners. I’ve been a prisoner for more years than I care to remember. How I was captured is no longer important, but I can tell you I was a large in charge kind of guy. Not only was I physically large, some might say fat, but never to my face. I was loud, and more then borderline obnoxious.

I used to think I was invincible, and I would never get caught, and even after I was, I boldly told myself and anyone who would listen, no prison could hold me. After all of the years stuck in the hole, I can honestly say my spirit was never broken, but it was tamed.

Shortly after I was captured, I got to witness with my fellow prisoners a new young officer being put in charge of the prison. Not being able to understand what was being said, I became bored, and began looking around for some way to escape. This is when I first noticed Ben. He had his head down with his eyes shut, and tears streaming down his face.

I slowly worked my way over to him, and whispered into his ear, “We’ll be O.K. to be strong, and soon we will be back with our families.”
He turned to me with a puzzled look and said, “All of my family is with God. I don’t want to see them until my work here is done. I don’t cry for them or myself. I cry for the new Commander. He is a prisoner here as we are with one exception, he has no hope of ever being rescued. We do.”

I thought the poor guy had lost his mind. He had been here to long, and suffered too many fevers.

The new Commander was quick to implement changes. All military prisoners were to be separated. We were stuffed in small cages just big enough for one, with another prisoner. I was put in with Ben. Everyone was interviewed at least once a day. Most people would call the interviews something else, but it no longer matters. The Commander was present at most of them, never showing emotion, or participating.
After a while I was starting to wonder how much more I could take, and was amazed by Ben. He would come back beat up, and smiling. I finally asked him why? Were they shooting him up with drugs?

“No. I got another chance to tell them about Jesus. When I get back here still alive, I rejoice, for I will get another chance to tell them about Jesus. I have also seen they have been listening. The blows are with less conviction, and the Commander hasn’t missed one interview in over a month.”
I never believed in that religious mumbo jumbo, but with no one else to talk with and never finding any chance to escape, we started to talk. I asked straight forward questions, like why did bad things happen, pointing out our current situation. He simply answered back with a question.

“If you were not here, do you think you would ever had given a thought about God?”

I thought about it for a few days, and had to admit I wouldn’t have thought about God. I than asked him why he was here? He answer was simple.

“Someone needed to be here to teach you about God, and I am just his humble servant.”
I watched his body get weaker with time like mine, but I could honestly see the joy in his eyes. Finally at the end of my rope, deeply depressed, wishing I could die, I asked him if he could tell me how I might find just an ounce of the joy he had. I still remember his words to me.

“The only thing you need to do is confess your sins to Jesus, and except him as your savior.”

I told him it was too simple for me to understand, which made him laugh.
He drew a picture in the dirt of a big valley with me on one side and God on the other. He told me the valley represented my sins which separated me from God who is sinless. To be separated from the Creator of all things is to be living in hell.
Looking around I couldn’t imagine hell being much worse than this, but Ben assured me that it was, for here was only temporary. Here we will either be rescued, which I was having serious doubts about, or we would die, but when we die we no longer have the chance to except Jesus as our savior.

He then drew a cross with it bridging the gap over the valley between God and Me. By confessing, and placing my sins with Jesus, God’s only son, completely sinless, who died out of love on the cross for us, a bridge is forged between God and myself. A bridge that could never be destroyed.

I studied the picture for the longest time, finding it hard to believe how simple it was, but it made perfect sense. I slept on it, and by the next morning I woke with a sense of urgency. I found I believed Ben, and the question, ‘What are you waiting for?’ kept going through my head.

I bowed my head and prayed to God for the first time in my life, and the more I confessed my sins to him, the lighter my heart began to feel. By the time I was done, I felt free for the first time in my life, and found more than the ounce of joy I was looking for.

I opened my eyes to see the sun was up, and Ben watching me, grinning from ear to ear.

“We are now Brothers with a bond stronger then blood, for our bond is through the blood of Christ.”

The days with Ben passed quickly with him teaching me everything he could remember from his study of the Bible. They were happy days. My daily interviews became joyful, not pleasant, but joyful, for I took every opportunity I could to talk about Jesus.

After a while a fever took Ben, but even though I missed his teaching and companionship, I was joyful, for I knew he had done God’s will, and saved me. I am thankful, and look forward to seeing him again.

The Commander sat in on all of my interviews, and after a while it ended up being just the two of us. He never spoke to me, just listened. The interviews became less frequent, and finally stopped. I never knew until today if he understood what I was saying.
After we were all freed and back at the base airport waiting for our plane home, I noted the Commander was one of the prisoners the Special Forces had captured. I was finally able to convince one of the guards to let me talk with the commander in private.

With the guard standing in one corner of the room, and the Commander across the table from me, I said, “I want to thank you for all you did for me. I can’t say I enjoyed it, but none the less I am grateful for the results.”

The Commander stayed quiet, but I could see the puzzle in his eyes.

“When I arrived, I was fat and overweight, not only physically, but mentally, and spiritually I was dead. Now I am lean and strong mentally. Maybe a little to lean physically, but spiritually I am alive! You humbled me, and that I am most thankful for.”

I extended my right hand to his still in handcuffs. To my surprise, he shook my hand and held onto it for the longest of time. I looked at him puzzled, and noticed a tear in his eye, and he spoke to me for the first time.
“If you can forgive me brother, I would like to ask one favor.”

With tears now in my eyes, I realized he had listened to all I had said, and we were now brothers in Christ.

“Of course.”

“Could I have a Bible?”

I looked to the guard, who simply shrugged, and said I would have to talk with the base Chaplin, to which I responded, now would be a good time.

The Chaplin was more than eager to provide a Bible for the Commander, and informed me how it was illegal for anyone to own a Bible in his country, and if anyone had found out about him being a Christian, he would have been killed on the spot.
I was able to give the Bible to the Commander just before he got on the transport, and told him it was now his turn to carry on the good work.

He smiled back at me for the first time, and said, “With great pride and joy.”

I am old enough now to see God didn’t have me captured, I was being rescued from myself, and now I can see the Commander hasn’t been captured, but freed to enjoy God.

A Farming Community?

Whenever I’ve been asked what kind of community I live in, I’ve always told them it’s a rural farming community. When we moved here 25 years ago this was definitely a small farming community. We grew the best potatoes, onions and corn around. It was easy to find the best vegetables because all you had to do was ask a farmer and end up with more than you could possibly eat.

Not that things were paradise. I remember more then one time being in a hurry and stuck behind a farm truck and unable to pass. For those who don’t know a farm truck only had enough power to do about 45 mph in a 55 mph zone. Now I’ll be doing almost 60 mph in that same 55 mph zone and get past like I’m sitting still. The question now is this still a farming community?

The answer is yes, we still live in a farming community but instead of the main crops being vegetables its houses. 11 years ago I made the decision to stop commuting to Boise and start my own company here away from the hurried atmosphere there. I never expected that Boise’s hurried way of life to reach here 60 miles away, but now it has. They say that growth is good. If you don’t grow you’ll stagnate and die. If that is so, how come the doc says that if I grow any more I’ll die.

Eight years ago I bought an acre from a farmer’s alfalfa field and thought I was in heaven. It was a ½ mile out of town with a wonderful view of the valley. I loved the smell and look right after he cut his field. Who could of expected that a freak car accident would take the farmer’s life and the field sold to a developer who wants to put 200 plus homes on 75 acres. To add salt the wounds the city wants to annex us into the city and double our taxes. For the cherry on top I found out that other developers are waiting to see what happens so they can buy the rest of the land around me and put in more subdivisions.

Trying to get answers from the city is like wrestling with a greased pig. The legal bull is so thick in the procedures that it boils down that the city can do what it wants because they have everything so confusing for those of us who don’t speak lawyer, that by the time you get it somewhat figured out, it’s all done. I have never had any desire to become a lawyer until now. The way that the world seems to be going you have to be a lawyer to understand anything in this world and that is still debatable. The one with the biggest or most lawyers wins. Is it just me or does that seem wrong?

To be honest, the land around my home is really best for homes. My concerns are the way that the homes a stacked in the subdivisions, the traffic, water and sewer. A neighboring town doesn’t have enough water now, to fill the subdivisions that they have already started and I read in the paper that they want to extend water and sewer out to the freeway for a new car dealership. I know that there is a “redneck” or “here’s your sign” joke in there.

The city engineer didn’t sound too positive about enough water for all of the proposals going in my town. But the City Council voted down a proposal to make it a little tougher for developers because they didn’t want to scare the developers away. If this wasn’t happening in my own town I would be able to make some great jokes, but the idiocy is too close to home.

I worry about the traffic, especially getting out on to the main highway. But the 1 hour traffic study says a traffic light is not needed. All that is needed, is for the intersection to be re-stripped, and it will handle the extra 2,000 cars a day just from this one subdivision. Remember there are several more that want to go in. Yes I did say 1 hour pm traffic study. There is no set time, so as far as we know it could be at 11:00 pm so it would seem then that traffic wouldn’t be that bad, but try turning left at 5:00 pm and let the game of chicken begin.

I wish I had some answers for you, but I don’t. The City Clerk is happy to get me information but answers are scarce. From the time I got the first letter about the proposed subdivision going in next door to me and annexing my property into the city to being a done deal was less the 50 days. During the City Council meeting many people entered documents full of facts, questions, and concerns but not one council member looked at them before making the decision. I would really like to be able to have faith in the city’s Planning and Zoning Committee, the City Council, and the employees in charge of the city growth, but I have not seen or heard anything to provide even a glimmer of hope.

I certainly do not begrudge people wanting to move here, for I personally do not know where else I would want to live. But I am worried about the way of life that we all are searching for is being pushed and squeezed away. There is room here for all of us if we are smart and acting as good stewards of the resources that we have. If we don’t manage the growth responsibly now we will always be paying for it.

1945

The year was 1945, everyone should remember, not just Americans. It was our (humanity’s) highest and lowest point. The great world war ended giving everyone the chance to rebuild, but at the cost of many lives, and the dropping of the atomic bomb. It was to be the war ending all wars, but unfortunately we know it not to be the case.

1945 was the year this typewriter I am using was manufactured. To look at this old Underwood, you would have thought it was made in a war, not after a war. Its shine and luster has long since gone, and the years don’t look like they have been kind to this old girl, but as you can see it is still doing its job just like it did when it was new. If only we humans could say we are doing our jobs like we should.

We seem to be creatures who quickly forget our history, and have to repeat our mistakes over and over. Like a mother who quickly forgets about the pain of child birth, and wants to have another child. War is an atrocious thing no matter how you do it. The difference I see between the big world war, and wars since then, has been our naivety to think we can put restrictions on ourselves because we are civilized, and expect the war to be less gruesome.

Naturally I am bias towards the United State, but we all (civilized countries) have highly trained men and women who have chosen to defend their countries with great pride, but it breaks my heart to witness their countries, including mine, let them down. We are to support them in every way we can, which includes letting them do their jobs without putting unfair restrictions on them.

During the last world war (2), many manufactures switched gears, and instead of making their normal wares, like Underwood making typewriters, they switched to making things to help the troops, all in an effort to support our fighting men and women. Manufactures haven’t done that since then. None of us have really given up anything to support our troops. No I am not including the families who have loved ones fighting. I am talking about the rest of us who go to work, and start complaining about the traffic to get there, and what big plans we have for the weekend.
I know there is more than a few of you kind folks who just don’t know how to support our troops any more than you are, which is by helping out the families the best you can. The problem I think is you’re the silent majority, and your silence is what is hurting our troops the most. We have a few squeaky wheels out there getting all of the attention, and not the right attention. In the olden days the squeaky wheel was the one who got the oil to shut up the squeak. Now a days we seem to encourage the squeaky wheel.

The time has come to say we have heard you, we understand what you’re saying, and understand you are wanting to help, but shut up. Let us work together on finishing what has been started and doing our best to prevent this from happening again. It’s like worrying about birth control once you’re already pregnant. It’s too late. Aborting what has already been started usually causes just as much trauma as finishing it, but without any of the rewards.

Let’s finish this war by giving our troops the freedom to do what needs to be done, and put our collective energy together on preventing another war. Is it possible to prevent another war, probably not, just like preventing unplanned pregnancies. As long as there are good people in this world, there will be bad people trying to get there way, and taking advantage of the kindness of others. Let’s be nice, until it is time to not be nice, and then kick some ass.

The Last Wagon Crossing

Today was a sad day as thousands came, and with hundreds stuck in traffic to witness this historical event. The event was in the planning for year, and the time had finally come. The location was Glenns Ferry, Idaho. More specifically, the Three Islands Crossing. The he wonderful folks here had been holding the historical reenactment of the Oregon Trail Settlers crossing the hazardous Snake River yearly for the last 24 years.

Over the years, the locals have done their best to make it as realistic as possible for the people who came from far and near to see how it was done, and even witness firsthand the perils of the crossing. This was going to be their last year because time is catching up to all of those who actually know how to handle a team of horses and the wagon on a river crossing.

The movies really don’t do it justice. In one sense it seems like a simple thing to cross a river, and the small crew, (down to one wagon, a few horses, and a couple of mules) made it look easy. At the most dangerous point in the crossing, it becomes obvious everyone is swimming, and the wagon is floating down stream. The powerful river sweeps them faster down stream then their progress across it.

I have been on the river many times, and the Snake River has a way of getting your attention even while you’re up on plane in a large Jet boat. The river is very deceptive, so you would have a hard time convincing me to try and cross it on a horse, but make it a team of horses with a wagon, and the answer would be a flat “No!”.

I was honored to be able to witness the bravery of the men and women who donned on authentic costumes, and handled the cold water with smiles on their faces. The narrator helped bring an understanding of the true history, and the real peril the settler faced, and how the Indians were such a large help in getting the West settled. There is a ton of information available on the internet, but it pales in comparison to actually seeing and hearing about it from real people with a passion in their graveled voices.

It was hard for me to go to this event because I just hate being around crowds. If there was choice between going to the dentist and having my wisdom teeth pulled again, or going to a large event, I would choose the dentist, but I am grateful I didn’t find another excuse not to attend a large event. I had a wonderful experience hearing about the struggle of the settlers, and seeing what they went through first hand. If you are one of the many who got to share in my experience, you know what I mean. If you don’t know, then you should just stick to watching your sensationalized TV shows. You probably think reality shows are real too.

Like a lot of people, I complain about how things are now a days, wishing for simpler times, but after hearing, and seeing what the settlers had to go through, I feel ashamed. Some things were definitely simpler back in our near history, but the simplest of things could get you killed, and quickly. As a Simple Bear, I will stick with the simple things we have now, and just enjoy. The biggest think I learned today, was to enjoy what I have.

Friends

I am sure a politician’s favorite saying is, “You can never have too many friends.” In a sense I can agree with that, but there is another saying which also rings true of the politician, “With friends like you, who needs enemies.” I know there are some who really want to help, but let’s be honest, how many more laws do we really need, especially when we can’t fully police the laws we already have. Then you have the lawyers in our legal system who have twisted things to unrecognizable understandings by anyone. Sorry, had to vent.

I am blessed to know quite a few people, and most of them I can call my friend to one degree or another. How many true friends do I have, who are actually concerned about me, I don’t know. I know I have a few, but last Sunday I was blessed with finding out I have one more.
Without going into boring details, I will just say last weekend wasn’t a good weekend for me. Normally I can put on a good face when I am around others, but Sunday, I just didn’t care. Oh, I tried since it was Mother’s Day, but my heart wasn’t in it. When I got to church everyone asks the normal question about how things are going, and I gave my normal answer when things aren’t going very good, by saying “It’s just another day in paradise.” This translates to not worth a s..t.

This works out fine, because I learned a long time ago, most people really only want you to tell them everything is fine, because they don’t want to have to take the time to listen to your problems. They have enough problems of their own, and have no desire to hear about any more. There’s a small part of me that does understand, but only a small part for when they have a problem I am usually lucky enough to hear all about it, but once I have listened, and offered my encouragement, their off and running again, forgetting I understood their problem, because I am going through the same thing myself, but they don’t want to hear about that.

I know some of you are probably saying, “Well if they won’t listen to you when you have a problem, don’t listen to them when they have a problem.” It sounds good in theory, and I tried it once a long time ago back in school. I ended up having teachers tell my parents, I wasn’t very helpful any more, and had a bad attitude. I had to learn the hard way that once you’re labeled a nice guy, you’re cursed to always be the nice guy. I don’t mean to sound cynical, for I have been able to meet some really interesting people because they felt safe to talk with me.

Back to my friend. I called him one and would gladly help him out whenever he needed it, but I will be honest, I didn’t know if it was a two way street. I have learned the hard way you just never know. Out of all of the people I met a church who asked me how I was, he took the time to see through the smoke screen, and asked me about it repeatedly.

Hear was my chance to finally talk about my problems with someone who would listen to me, and guess what happened? I found I didn’t really have anything to say. My problems weren’t anything anyone could fix, or that needed to be fixed. Just the thought of having someone who was truly willing to listen to me, encouraged me, and that was all I needed. It was just nice to be noticed.

With the hustle and bustle of life which keeps increasing with every passing minute of the clock, it seems to be getting harder and harder to get noticed by others. To get noticed by others it seems you have to really stand out, one way or another, and a lot of the ways people are trying to stand out aren’t healthy. I wonder if we would have all of the problems in the world today, if we would all just take a minute to truly notice someone each day. To ask someone how they are doing, and to go the extra mile to make sure they really are fine. My advice is to start with at least one person a day, and grow it to as many people as you can, and watch the world brighten around you each and every day. My world was truly brightened, because one person went the mile to show they really cared.

Secret to a Happy Marriage

I once heard the true secret to a happy marriage was not to get married at all. Those who have recently gone through an ugly divorce probably would agree with that. Although I can sympathize with those who have had problems, I cannot agree with them. This summer my wife and I will be celebrating our 20th anniversary.

I remember when we were going through premarital counseling with the preacher, he said the life expectancy of a marriage back then was only 7 years. He told us we were going to have to work at staying together, and not to take light our responsibilities. My wonderful wife to be, and I listened to him, but neither one of us understood what he was talking about. We had been living in sin (together) for a year when we went through his premarital counseling, and for us the wedding was strictly a formality.

20 years later, nothing has changed for us. Neither one of us understand when people keep telling us you have to work to keep a marriage together. No I am not saying we have never had our disagreements, or full out arguments, but the option of getting a divorce was never, and still isn’t an option. We know in spite of our little differences, we are much better together then we are apart.

I met a couple last fall, who are in their nineties, and they have been married for 70 years. What caught my attention was the way they act around each other. Most people who I have seen who have been together a long time, usually end up just staying together out of duty, but this couple is still happy to be together. This wasn’t just a face put on in front of a stranger, this was real.
I asked them why they thought they had such a good marriage while so many others couldn’t seem to last a couple of years. In one word they agreed it was “trust”. They trusted each other completely, and in everything, without stipulations. They talked about how they trusted each other with money, and not cheating on one another, but the one thing they didn’t say, but was understood, was they trusted each other to stick around when things didn’t go according to plan, or hopes. This included when one spouse or the other, on the rare occasion acted human, and hurt the others feelings.

I don’t care who you are, by the time you lost your first baby tooth you’ve had your feelings hurt. It is a natural part of life, just like falling down every now and then and skinning your knee. The question is, are you going to just lay there on the ground crying poor me, and give up on life, or are you going to get up, and try walking again? I know there are times I’ve hurt my wife’s feelings, and when I am made aware of it, I truly feel bad, for I never intend to hurt her, and thankfully she knows this, just as I know she doesn’t mean to hurt my feelings.

The heart of the matter is just that the heart of it. Does the person who hurt your feeling mean to, and if so why? If you just get mad without ever finding out the answers to those questions, you are destined to fail in any relationship. We are all human destined to make mistakes, and sometimes the mistake is thinking two wrongs make a right.

Marriage isn’t about work, it’s about trust. Ultimately before you ever think about marriage you need to ask yourself if you can trust the other’s heart completely. If you can’t you need to ask yourself why. Is it something about the other person, or is it about you? If you got married before you ever answered those questions, you both need to answer the questions right away. If the answer isn’t completely, than you’re going to have to fix it, and because you put the cart before the horse, you might have to actually work at getting trust built up in the relationship. Can it be done, you bet. Is it worth it, without question!

One last thing, if you do have to work at getting things fixed, make the work fun, like building the ultimate sand castle, not like mucking out the barn. This is your chance to really learn about the other person, and for them to learn about you, let the experience be fun, and ongoing.

Family Time

Hard Work

A great man once said, “I have a Dream!”, and it was a good one. All men and women need to have a dream. The greatness of the dream isn’t as important as the dream itself. A person without a dream for something better for themselves, is a person without any hope, and a questionable reason to exist at all.

A dream can be as farfetched as you want. If you want to build a space ship like the “Enterprise” on “Star Trek”, than go for it, as long as you work at, and just don’t sit around talking about over a beer with friends. By working hard towards something, no matter how outlandish it seems, you have given your life purpose, and through your perseverance, you provide hope to others. I can’t think of anything nobler than bring hope to other.

A dream without any hard work is just a fantasy, and a fantasy no matter how wonderful doesn’t do anyone any good, not even the person with the fantasy. If Marten Luther King Jr. had just sat around fantasizing about his dream, just think what sad state of affairs our world would be. He might have had a longer life span, but never truly lived. Thankfully for us all, he put great effort into his dream, and we are all enjoying the fruits of his labor.

The key to a great dream are in 2 four letter words, Hard Work. Some would say people don’t know how to work, let alone hard work, but I have to wonder if it’s because they have been stripped of their reward for hard work. The famous words of our Declaration of Independence, quoted by Marten Luther states, “All men are created equal”, has been twisted to meaningless proportions.

We are all created equal, but it doesn’t mean we are all the same, nor should we be. We are all equal in our right to pursue happiness, but we are not the same in what makes us happy. Some need 5 million in assets to make them happy, and others are happy to have five bucks in the wallet. Injustice comes when people are made to feel bad for having more, or less than others. Why make me eat lobster, when I prefer a hamburger.

The popularity of “Sameness”, otherwise known as Socialism, has left many feeling guilty for wanting more, and to be different. With guilt replacing reward, the main incentive for hard work has been taken away. In the process changing many dreams into just fantasies, and crippling hope in general.

I never knew Martin Luther, nor am I great historian who has studied him, but from reading his speech, I believe his dream was for all people to be equal, not the same. I am sure some will want to debate with me on his meaning of words, but let’s focus on his example of his hard work. Let our hard work be a beacon of light, and hope to others, as we pursue our dreams.

Gifts

As a Christian, this is one subject I could easily bring up the gift of Christ, but that seems to be such a turn off for some, so I will reframe from making this a religious story, and just cover the events in one of my recent weeks.

As a person geared more to things of old, like typewriters, instead of computers, I have been kind of slow coming into the 21st century. This all changed 6 months ago, believe it or not, due to a typewriter, but I will save that story for another time.

A few weeks ago I met a young person in one of the forums I now frequent, who was stressing about the need of a typewriter, but no funds. I had an extra typewriter which was in great shape, a fresh ribbon, with its only flaw being a color I hadn’t fallen in love with. Since it was given to me, the only proper thing to do was to give it to someone else who wanted it. I thought I had found this person, and even offered to pay for the shipping.

Over the course of a week, and many emails, I was left with no real decision of acceptance (no address given to send it), or declining. I even gave references of character, with phone numbers to easily check, including my local sheriff, whom I have worked for. Personally I would have accepted a yes or no, without problem, but the wishy, washy, undecidedness took the joy right out of the giving.

This brings me to the very next week. Through another forum discussing keyboards, I asked about availability of a special two piece keyboard for my wife. A couple of quick responses helped me find just what my wife needed. I thanked them very much for the info, and mentioned we are now saving up for one. I then took a couple of days off from the computer, to finish typing out my book (hopefully coming out this fall). Yes, I know shameless plug.

When I got back to check my email, I found one from a gentleman on the forum for keyboards wondering if I had seen his post. In short, he wanted to donate the money for a keyboard for my wife. I was surprised, and flabbergasted, to say the least. I didn’t even know this person, and not being one who has never received a gift from a stranger, I didn’t know what to do. Normally I am the one doing the giving, but if I was to learn anything from the previous week, I had a decision to make.

I politely, humbly, and with great thanks, accepted his gift. I didn’t accept just for my wife and mine’s sake, but also for the person giving us the gift. You see when the other person didn’t except my gift, two people missed out on its joy, them and me. I find great joy in giving, and that was taken away from me.

If you ever want to have fun during Christmas time, or any time, pay for the person’s stuff in the checkout line before you. Or if you want to double the fun, give the money to the checkout person, and let them decide whose stuff it should be used for. You both get the gift of giving. Something tells me, if more found the joy of giving, there would be less need in the world.

The Unskilled Technician

An unskilled technician sounds just as likely as responsible government spending. A technician is supposed to be skilled in their given field. If they are not then they are called trainees.

I just got back from a sales meeting where the manufacture was showing those of us in my field the lasted products to make our lives, and the customer’s life easier. The presentation was dry, but the products were a great improvement, enough so, you wonder why they didn’t do it earlier. What caught me by surprise was one of my fellow tradesman. He wanted to know if the new product was idiot proof enough to keep someone from installing a wire without stripping the wire back far enough. To put this into perspective the wire needed to be stripped back between ¼” to ½”. He was worried that his guys wouldn’t strip the wire back far enough, and a couple of other people joined in, worried about the same thing. The question, I have is, if there technician is skilled enough to hook up a couple of dozen wires to a control panel, how can they not be skilled enough to strip the wires back the proper distance.

In the days not to long past we used to have to make our own control center with relays and individually wire them together. Now with today’s electronics what we use to do with dozens of relays, can be controlled with on electronic panel that works much better.

Every day there are new tools coming out in the industries across the board, which are designed to help the unskilled do their job. The tools don’t make things faster or better for those who are skilled, usually it’s just the opposite, but they are here because the skilled work force has been declining at an alarming rate. I don’t know if its laziness, or if people are just not caring, but for some reason people aren’t wanting to learn. Maybe their just too impatience to take the time to learn, or they never experience the simple wonderful joy of learning and improving their ability.

I wish I was talking about just our younger generation, but unfortunately I have noticed parents and grand parents acting the same way.

This is America, the land of the Free and the Proud. Its time we rolled up our sleeves and got to work, and stopped excepting mediocrity from everything, including ourselves.

Home

You’ve probably heard the old saying “Home is where the heart is.” I believe it is true. A question harder to answer is where is home for you?

The presumption is where you live, your house. I agree with the first part, but not with the second. People have been trying to convince others the house and family in it are suppose to be the priority, and where your heart is to be. If this was truly possible why are there so many single parents with truly lost and confused kids.
I’ve heard “A home is not built out of concrete and lumber, but out of love.” The heart and love are one in the same. The love expressed by people is as different and diverse as the people themselves. If we are all so different then why are we made to believe the house is were our heart is suppose to be, and made to feel guilt if otherwise.

Here’s a couple of examples. Some love the ocean and feel calmed by being near it, so why live in a desert? Some love the open road, so why not drive truck and take the family with you. Or live in a modest house with a gorgeous motor home along side with monthly trips planned. Some love to work with their hands in a shop, and again have a modest home with an elaborate shop with room for everyone.
My point is we have made such a push for home and house, we have forgotten about heart and family.

I assumed when you got married you picked someone who had similar interest as you, if not that was less then brilliant. Your kids on the other hand are from you and it’s easy to assume they will have similar interests as you, so include them. Show them your heart.

I can hear it now, “What if they get hurt in the shop?” Here is the cold hard fact, kids are going to get hurt, but what is easier to handle, a cut finger or a drug addiction. Here’s another example, Little Bobby gets killed in a truck wreck because he was out of his seat helping Daddy shift, or Bobby frying is brain on meth because Daddy’s never home.

No, I don’t think it would matter if Bobby’s Dad stayed home and denied his heart. Little Bobby would still be confused about who he was. It’s painfully obvious the way we have been going for the last 20 – 30 years isn’t working. The proof is in our drug problem. People turn to drugs because their lost and confused, looking for any kind of escape. Let them embrace their hearts without any guilt, and watch the drug problem diminish. No federal budget required.

Conflict

I think it’s safe to say most don’t like conflicts, except for a chosen few. More about that later. A lot of us deal with the conflicts in our lives differently then others. Some seem to have the most annoying ability to just let things roll off them like water off a ducks back. Nothing bothers them. They always seem to have a smile which annoys me every time I see it, mainly because I have never had that ability and I’m extremely jealous. Then there are those who get really steamed up and quiet, but if you leave them alone things will be just fine. Then there’s the other annoying group who control themselves enough to take control of the situation. They know just what to say or not say, and are in control of the conflict instead of the conflict in control of them. The far left of the scale are the ones who let their opponent have it with both barrels like from a sawed off shotgun. It might have started off as a small conflict, but instead of just winning it you vaporized the other person.

Personally I’m not the first group, that’s why I find them so annoying. I have never been one to be able to just let things roll off my back. I wish I could as well as some other people in life, but I’m lucky to fall in the second group. I can go quite awhile until I reach a certain point and then I go from the second group to the fourth group so fast that it makes a Ferrari look like its standing still. What about the third group you say, well on those rare occasions I go and buy a lottery ticket. Granted sometimes people need to be hit with both barrels like someone drinking and driving, but my son not doing what I asked him to do because he was helping his baby sister, no. I don’t know about you, but I get real tired of asking for forgiveness when I do that and lately the lyrics from the country song “Lord, please help me help my stupid self” keep coming to mind.

Now let’s talk about the chosen few who seem to like conflicts. It will probably cost me a few donuts, but these are same annoying people who are from the third group. They seem to be able to take charge of a conflict with very controlled responses, of course the gun helps. I’m talking about the men and women who are doing there best to keep us safe from the bad guys and sometimes helping us with our stupid selves. Police officers are the only people I know that go to work and know that they are going to have to deal with a conflict at some point in their day if not several times. I know several officers personally and even when they are retired their still weird. God love them though, for unfortunately we desperately need these select few who put their lives on the line every day for never enough pay and not enough thank yous. Please except my personal THANK YOU.

The law enforcement industry is one industry, we all can agree on that we would like to see a business slow down. I would personally be happy to pay and officer to just sit around and do nothing, but unfortunately it’s one of those few government jobs that people don’t sit around at. Even when they are not on duty they are never really off. If you don’t believe me ask one of there spouses. We all can make it a little easier on them every day by just simply obeying the laws the best that we can, especially traffic laws. If people didn’t speed, drive drunk and get into accidents just think how much time they would have to go after the thieves, rapist, child molesters and murders. Cops have enough to worry about without us pulling bone head stupid stunts. Lets all do are part to be as safe as we can out there and thank an officer when we get a chance for doing a tough job while still being human themselves.

War - The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly

Now a days it seems to be common on TV to see a warning at the beginning of a show that says “Viewer discretion is advised”. Today I feel I should say “Reader discretion is advised”. If you look at life through rose colored glasses and everything is great, stop now, and run, far, far, away.

War is an ugly hellish thing. If you don’t agree, ring the bell for the nurse, it’s time for your medication. The ugliness of what one human can do to another is put in perfect clarity during the time of war. The worst part is I’m not talking about what happens just on the battle field, but at home.

The bad part about war is it seems to be inevitable. No matter how many wars to end all wars we have, it doesn’t end. People do not want to learn from others mistakes, or too easily forget. I will give credit to the people who protest a war before it starts, but after it’s already started, it just divides and weakens a country at a time when it needs as much strength as it can get. Strength, only can come from families across the country uniting together.

Experienced pilots know the best way to stay out of trouble with weather is to avoid it. Sometimes it means delaying a flight until the weather passes, or changing course to fly around the weather. But sometimes it just can’t be avoided; this is where it gets tough. Common sense tell us, even screams at us to get out, turn around, this is bad, but the experienced pilot knows the quickest and safest way out is to continue straight ahead. Most of the accidents are caused by trying to turn around. You can get disoriented and end up staying in the bad weather. The battle with the weather will wear you out, and bring the plane down. Now imagine everyone in the plane scared and screaming at the pilot to turn around. Let’s add another element. The pilot is getting information from the tower, which sees everything on their radar and advises the pilot which way is best to go to get through the storm. The people on the plane don’t know this for all their screaming, and the pilot is too busy fighting the plane to explain everything to them. The thing to remember is that the weather and war are both completely and truly unpredictable at times.

The good thing is the more experience you get the better you are, whether it’s predicting the weather, war, or riding a bicycle. I take great pride in being an American for we have the best trained and most experienced people in the world regardless if you are talking about our military or any other profession. Other countries may not care for us, but they know to come to us for the best training or when they need to get something difficult accomplished, we’re the can do country. We simply have good people in this great country who always keep trying to do better and learn more. That’s what keeps us out front.

As Americans even in this storm of war we enjoy a good life. Mothers can stand on a neighborhood side walk and talk with their kids playing around them with little to worry about. What the screaming people on the plane don’t realize is even if their right, the only thing that their accomplishing is making the others more scared. The pilot is going to do his job, right or wrong the best he can. Things wont change until a more experienced pilot can take over.
The question now is are you going to be one of the people who helps calm people down reminding them this war will be over soon, or one of those who just can’t help but to scream and make everyone else worry more. If history is any indication, all wars come to an end, good, bad, and ugly. Even if you’re the philosophical type, the war between good and evil will continue on, but the battlefield does change and move on.

Sex & Love

In the game of life, it’s hard to have meaningless sex after you have had meaningful sex with someone you truly love first. The opposite is also true. It’s hard to have meaningful sex with someone you truly love, if you first had meaningless sex with another.

First Time

This is my first time to put anything on the wide world of the Internet. A place I have looked up many things, but still have a hard time believing that things are real. Not so much real of not believing what I see, but in real people are on the other end. There is a vast amount of information, and some of it is even worth while. What really surprises me is it is free, for the most part. A lot of people have put in plenty of time, and effort in typing it all out, yet available for all to read without any cost.

I have heard many times, and have to admit I believe it. "There is no such thing as a free lunch", but when I need information I go to the Internet and find it. The only cost is my time to find it. Yes I know some say time is money, but I have more time then money. If you are reading this, please understand this is my first post. I have many editorials I will be posting here in the near future, and it is my hopes and dreams they are worth reading. Some it is for entertainment, but I hope to cause at least a thought or two as you read. I don't expect every one to agree with me, and thankfully this is a free country still where that is allowed.

I do welcome your comments. No, to be honest I pray I have written, and will continue to write material worth commenting on. I only ask it is kept family friendly. I want my kids to be able to read this without worry. I don't expect them to understand all of the topics, but I don't want to have to apologise for any thing either. Give me a chance and I will do my best to make it worth while to come back.