There seems to be a perceived misperception about Christians. It's nothing new really. What surprises me is how it is still around, and that even Christians feel their suppose to be this way. Once you become a Christian, your gift of simple language is to be done away with, and replaced with the ever disrespectful Mr. Nice Guy. Bull Pucky.
Above all things, I am a man first, period. It is even more so now I have given my heart to Jesus. God is a God of love, who cares for all, but there is this twisted belief, just because he cares for all, he is striving for political correctness. Bull, I don't think the Pharisees would agree with the thought of him trying to be politically correct. Being politically correct is not the same as being caring enough to be honest.
The world of ours is full of atrocities. Nothing new when you look at history. The biggest atrocity is thinking and giving these evil people and their deeds permission to keep doing their evil. This is exactly what our society is doing every time we try to negotiate with someone who has done evil. Did Jesus negotiate with the merchants in the temple? NO! He physically threw them out. What the merchants had done was wrong, end of debate.
The bull pucky in today's ideology is so thick you could spread it around with a bull dozer. The saddest part is it comes from a small minority group of people who have gotten very noisy these days only because we let them. They have used their best weapon against us, guilt. They have made us feel guilty for not acting like their version of a loving God, when we disagree with their actions, and try and stop them. This is complete Bull, for the Bible clearly tells what is right and what is wrong.
Guilt has no power over us, except the power we give it. Guilt especially doesn't come from God. God uses conviction. When we sin, and we all do, God convicts us without any doubt. Guilt comes from others, or ourselves, and there is always a sense of doubt, or question. God only needs to tell us once, and forgives us when we ask. Others will keep telling us of our guilt even after they say they have forgiven us. God's punishment is just and set. By others, guilt is the punishment and unending.
Now is the time to do our part to eliminate the B.S. in our life, and world. You cannot do this by eliminating a word or two, but by using them as they were intended, to reveal a truth with honesty. Being politically correct is a fad destined to die like all fads. Honesty has stood the test of time, and without it, everything is just Bull Pucky.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Valentine's Day
Once a year we celebrate a special day to remember the ones we love, Valentine's Day. A day I find to be very sad and the reason so many couples are having problems. Such emphasis is put on one day, but if you truly love someone, I don't understand how you can't express that love every day.
The day doesn't even seem to be a day of real love. It's all about the buying of gifts. Plastic things that are quickly forgotten, and left to collect dust. Chocolates, which are gone over night, and flowers that wilt within a few days. I don't see how any of these things are truly a symbol of true everlasting love.
I have been blessed the last couple of decades to have a true love. A love that has grown to completeness. I use to say my love grows more and more each and every day, but that is no longer true. Like a fully grown fruit tree, producing nothing but delicious, my love is now full grown and complete. Our love is fully rooted, and strong enough to handle any storm. Producing fruit without fail.
Like a fully grown fruit tree, I will keep loving my wife until the farmer in charge of me, (God) says I am done. When I was young, love was exciting, but insecure. I don't miss those days for I have found peace, security, and comfort in my maturity. None of this is possible without compete love.
Thank you to my Love and everyday Valentine.
In Complete Love,
E.J. Bear
The day doesn't even seem to be a day of real love. It's all about the buying of gifts. Plastic things that are quickly forgotten, and left to collect dust. Chocolates, which are gone over night, and flowers that wilt within a few days. I don't see how any of these things are truly a symbol of true everlasting love.
I have been blessed the last couple of decades to have a true love. A love that has grown to completeness. I use to say my love grows more and more each and every day, but that is no longer true. Like a fully grown fruit tree, producing nothing but delicious, my love is now full grown and complete. Our love is fully rooted, and strong enough to handle any storm. Producing fruit without fail.
Like a fully grown fruit tree, I will keep loving my wife until the farmer in charge of me, (God) says I am done. When I was young, love was exciting, but insecure. I don't miss those days for I have found peace, security, and comfort in my maturity. None of this is possible without compete love.
Thank you to my Love and everyday Valentine.
In Complete Love,
E.J. Bear
Monday, February 8, 2010
Been A While
It has been a while since I have posted anything up here, and I plan to get back in the habit once a week of posting an article or a short story. I don't know if there is anyone who is happening on to this blog by chance, but if there is I would sure like to know. First, to know someone is seeing this, and two, what you think. Thanks.
Sincerely,
E.J. Bear
Sincerely,
E.J. Bear
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, September 7, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
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.
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.
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