Watch me now!
From here to somewhere---in a flash...Zoom!
You can come aboard---or, not...Just don't stand on the tracks!
Tonight---I fly the cosmos...on a Magic-Unicorn! Wanna come?
See you in the Fantasy!---If?...You dare! I'll be there! For sure!
Amen!
It's quite a journey! Thanks! Mom!
Yea! It's a long way! But, Love! prevails! Thank you!
Freedom! is the refuge!---Family! Is everything!...Faith! is Salvation!
Perfect! Mom! Great example! Beautiful!-mentor! Thanks! Mom!
Happy Mother's Day!
Amen!
Jesus' Mother! Mary! Amen!
As a child I viewed Mary and saw my Perfect!-Mom!
Thanks! Mom! For all of it and everything! Class-act!
Amen!
Class-act! Mom!---always...1st Class!
Beautiful1 Intelligent! Caring! Perfect!
Mom: Knows how to "fix" anything and everything!
Immaculate housekeeper! Gourmet culinary-skills!
Magic! An eternal supply of clean clothes! Time---always!
Thanks Mom! For the best example ever! Perfection!
Everything you do---always and forever...Class-act!...1st Class!
Love you! Mom!
Amen!
Mother's Day is coming! Thanks! Mom!
What a Great Honor to be blessed to be a Mother!
What a Greater Honor to have a Perfect Mother!
Amen!
School's out! Yea!
Just a week or two left---and...Summer-Vacation!
College girls are one (1) year ahead of schedule! Wow!
They are so smart! Talented! Beautiful! Perfect!
They are planning their summer "free" time! Good!
We plan to spend some Pleasure-time with each of them.
They are doing "interns"---Hmm!...Sure is different!?
Success awaits! They already enjoy Huge success! Amen!
School's out! Yea!
Amen!
Humor on a Sunday!? Why not!?
That
“Fred”! Old guy! Ever hear of Methuselah?
Gets
all the female attention over to the
home!
No-looks! –money! –personality!
–charm! Hmm!?
He’s
notin’ like me! So? Just how does he
do it?
I
asked Fred! Dumb idea! But, I asked.
(Stupid!)
“Well,”
he croaked in his Bill Clinton husky voice,
(that
accent has to be practiced(?)), “I
just tell ’em
what
they want to hear…'Good looks! Nice teeth!
Personality!
Good singing voice! Nice body!'”
He
smiled, like I should believe that garbage! I
been
using those lines for years! No
luck!?
Maybe
it’s all in the delivery!? Nah!
Come
on! Fred! I’m no easy mark. Truth!?
“Okay!
I learned from courting and catching my
first
wife, Thelma! Oh! God! But, I was
young
and
dumb, I reckon. Told her I owned the farm
where
I really only rented a room in the barn loft.
She
left after 3 days; didn’t like the aroma---
didn’t
care for the 4-legged critters, either. Amen
“Told
the next one I owned that farm and the one
next
door. Bam! Married! 2 days! Gone! Hmm!?
“By
number 7 I owned all of Northern Illinois!
Yes! Sir!
“I
tried to give Chicago to China but they declined, ‘Too corrupt!’
“I
had to stop owning land at the ‘Peoples’
Republic of Wisconsin’
border;
you see, my brother owns that hunk-of-lie! Out of
Professional-courtesy I couldn’t go south,
either…?
“Another
brother?” I inquired. “Nah! My daddy owns Kentucky!”
“Well!”
I allowed. “There’s Arkansas?” (I thought I had him?)
“Uh!
Un! Little Abner and his cousin, Daisy May, claim it.
“That
Daisy! She’s H – O – T! I ought to
talk to ‘cousin’ Daisy!”
That
Fred! Biggest liar in 4 states! Well!
Tied for “Biggest”! Anyway!
Ole Fred! He sure knows how to trick the geriatric "Hotties"!?
Careful! Grannies!
Choice!
Pandemic!?---No!...A self-inflicted epidemic!
So sad!? Life is a personal "choice"!
"Choose" wisely! You will live that "choice"!
I pray thee "Peace"! I wish thee "Love"!
Amen!
Maybe!
Dawn! One more chance to do some "Good"!
I'll do my very best! As always!---Yes!... I will!
Amen!
Bring me home to Rocky Mountain heights so that I might slide
the
July-snow releasing that 4 year-old
buried just beneath the
adult surface where
’ere I truly do and always have and will
forever
reside in Awesome want of
simple-humble Truth-Peace!
Oh! Me beauty Cripple Creek! Where mountain man has
gopher-
tunneled
a lust for golden ore and silver strike to rival crater-moon.
Sweet bow a Fiddle Sunshine Gold bring forth a tear as four-taught
pronounced
upon the clearness air a song reality to stir me heart and
soar
me spirit Wild upon yon escarpment
sentinel above yon green-
blue
ocean cadenced march of white foam crest-wave trough subtle
race
silent-solace Love to rendezvous
yonder white-sand beach. Amen!
Dance-choreograph
me heart-song in flute notes join fiddle melody in
harmony
with Live! Love! Laugh! a Faith Family! Freedom! mantra!
Fiddle Sunshine Gold!
(a
Spirit-tune for adventure-time)
Dance
yon Spirit music in me heart;
choreograph some
adventure-Wild in that vacant space between any
notes
where
holy-sacred events unfold like cascade babbles on
a
mountain stream caressing boulder-stones to sweet hum
a
whisper-song upon my ears attentive and appreciative
discerning
northern-lights amiss among those
blue-white
midnight
diamond sparkle-glows serenading a black-abyss
to
usher Sweetness-dawn’s first
pink-blush calling the day.
Surf-tag with that mighty Pacific-blue in
warm-comfort sun
to
chase thoughts-vacant yet sustain precious-Hope
towards
a
manifest of some reality yonder just
beyond the pale that
even
I might find an echo-avenue to dare-dream
of water wide
beyond
the shores wherever rain might one day fall or simply
dampen
a cloud-concern to listen close the lightning effort
raising
a thunder-crescendo rattle-roll announcing---Wonder!
On
some emerald swale above the mist sweet-Play thy flute to
Praise! Honor!
Glory! God
in a gentle Whisper-wind to fly a
corridor
ascend the summit high in struggle to reach some top
on
high then soft victory the pinnacle in pause life purple bloom
upon
yon lilac-bush pleasant in its reticence to then descend
an
eastern front-range foraging a prairie golden flight in total
ecstasy
to tease the mighty rivers meander-course prevail Wild!
(Part 2of 2 Tomorrow)
“Tally Ho!?”
(a
“material” lamented song)
Lord! I’m
coming! Lord! I’ll be right there!
What have I
done? Have I ever been anywhere?
A true “Success!?”
I just can’t seem to care!
Faith! Family!
Freedom! I honest pleasure share!
In some final
end the serendipity of life plays fair!
Material count?
Gone to nothing a definitive share!
I
wonder “Where is the Peace?”
Will
evil hording ever cease?
Is
the sacred “art-of-the-deal”
Just
a legal obfuscation to steal?
Pile
golden coins to tally high
Can
a single eat the entire pie?
When
will the storage be enough?
I
can’t keep track of all my stuff!
One
some day too soon it all must end?
Will
I, at last, a copper penny spend?
Lord! I’m
coming! Lord! I’ll be right there!
What have I
done? Have I ever been anywhere?
A true “Success!?”
I just can’t seem to care!
Faith! Family!
Freedom! I honest pleasure share!
In some final
end the serendipity of life plays fair!
Material count?
Gone to nothing a definitive share!
Exemplar
shared her sacred Love to any and all!
Never
embraced “elite” to contemplate an evil fall!
Oh! Fragrant flower
brilliant in a myriad color hue!
Loving-kind!
Christian-generosity!
To all she knew!
Gave
her last morsel to a misery discarded precious child!
Upon
her white soul Saints & Angels
celestial-heaven smiled
Lord! I’m
coming! Lord! I’ll be right there!
What have I
done? Have I ever been anywhere?
A true “Success!?”
I just can’t seem to care!
Faith! Family!
Freedom! I honest pleasure share!
In some final
end the serendipity of life plays fair!
Material count? Gone to nothing a definitive share!
Amen!
Yellow lightning illuminations danced to the north of his tidy little encampment; he smelled rain on the air but the storm stayed well north of his location. He slept well, yet alert, through the night. Come dawn, the river was running rapidly from the overnight torrent further north but the camp was dry and fresh coffee brew filled the chill morning air with promised comfort warmth.
He checked the animals, lead the horse
and mule to the river to drink a little and gave them each another handful of
bunch grass careful not to overfeed them; Wolf got a hard biscuit and seemed
thankful for the treat although one never knew just what the cur really
thought. He was a fine companion on the trail but he didn’t cotton to humankind
remaining isolated.
“When we hit ole Denver-town,” Buckskin
spoke in a low tone to the animals although none seemed even remotely
interested in what he had to say, “I’m gonna get a bath, a shave and the
biggest steak with potatoes and gravy that I can find.
“Commander and Rufe will get three days
at the livery, I’ll sell my furs and trade this silver cache for cash money.
Wolf! I’ll give you the steak bone when I’m done with it.” He smiled.
When he had repacked the pannier and burdened
Rufe with the supplies, he saddled and mounted Commander and headed north by
several degrees east toward Denver and civilization; he should make the city
lights by dusk, just in time for that hot bath, shave and steak dinner.
Once clear of the mountains and in the
rolling swale of prairie past the front range he spied five Indians far to his
east; probably a hunting party chasing “phantom-ghost” antelope.
By dark, with the animals snug and
secure in the livery and having washed down a fine meal with “real” smooth
whiskey, Buckskin slept on a feather mattress in a hotel room. Wolf melted into
some rough brush just outside the livery stable. The man kept his Hawkin beside
his bed and a six gun in his ready hand just under the woolen blanket covering.
“Careful, I am,” he thought, “out yonder
in the ‘jungle’ among the many Wild
critters; but, here in civilization?---I’m much more on-guard!...this is where
the real Wild animals live!”
With that warning conviction of fact,
Buckskin fell into half-sleep awaiting dawn adventure.
And when?---his last breath is
drawn…here lies an Independent-Individual!
A satiated spirit!
The man’s other constant-companion, a muscular-cur, half-dog, half-wolf, moved ahead sniffing the air as he went; he would let his master know if anything was amiss. He had missed the Indian attacker being off chasing a rabbit. Buckskin kept a wary-eye on the dog while also remaining attentive to his surroundings. Carefully, and as quietly as possible, threading their way through the thick brush and tree trunks, they exited the willows onto a sandy shore littered with rounded-rocks from the mountains washed and polished by eons of rushing-water ice-cold from the run-off high up on the snow-packed peaks. The “beach” spanned some ten-feet before meeting the river-water. “Wolf”, the half-breed, was already chest deep in the fast-moving swirl of the cascading-river, lapping fresh snow-melt, rubbing his face in the froth, playing like an innocent-child.
Once the man had cleared the cover of
the river-willows, he halted the steed, viewing the river, the far-bank, some
thirty-feet across, and sniffing the air for any tell-tail scent of smoke.
Satisfied that the trio was alone, nudging Billy forward; the horse stopped at
the bank and drank.
Before stepping down from the saddle,
Buckskin gave the area another careful look-see. Finally satisfied, the
tall-man stepped down from the well-worn saddle pulling his Hawkins-rifle from
the leather-scabbard; he checked the load, seeing that all was in working order
for action.
Wolf had finished slaking his thirst and
bounded into the river-roil like a wild “puppy”-dog, chasing Rainbow-trot
absent any chance of ever catching one of the slippery fish; when Commander had
slurped enough of the ice-melt, he raised his head to stand-sentinel; only then
did Buckskin drink.
Between each swallow, the man swiveled
his head to observe his surroundings, intently listening and watching. Once
satisfied with the refreshment, the man carefully filled the canteen with
crystal-liquid as keen eyes swept the perimeter of his venue and attentive ears
caught every nuance of nature. Nothing seemed amiss; the dog and horse
confirmed his security with their calm attitude. Complacent Rufe had slaked his
thirst and merely stood and dozed.
Buckskin moved his entourage across the
tiny stream to the far eastern shore. Commander didn’t particularly like the
frigid water and danced a “crow-hop” cadence through the chill; Wolf relished
in the cold “fun” and Rufe seemed not to even notice anything untoward.
Safely across, Buckskin rode downstream
until he found a suitable campsite for the night. An indentation in the willows
lining the river bank caused by some rather recent flood had dislodged about
twenty of the soft wood trees and floated them away as the bank had been eaten
out.
Easter
Peace! Amen!
(2022)
Happy
Easter!
New-born
pink-blush dawn invites “Son”- rise!
Jesus arisen triumphs
even evil death! Surprise!
Begins
God’s new covenant with heaven’s
heir!
Redemption! Salvation! A holy-sacred
celestial pair!
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Celebrate!
How
to return God’s Love? Do contemplate!
Humble
self to offer Praise! Honor! Glory!
Appreciate life-gift! Live
adventure-story!
“Thank Thee! Lord!” A simple prayer
thought
Delight
in every blessing His crucifixion
bought
Through
Jesus’ sacrifice for (simple-humble) sinner me
Holy Spirit
Grace!
Ushers sacred Peace freely
With
satiate-Spirit exalted value-virtue
a-purpose live
Practice
His “Christian-generosity” to awesome give
“I will send you who and what you need!” Jesus trust!
His-word! His-bond!
All I need do is simply adjust!
Evil can never
defeat His mankind-blessing myriad Good!
Holy Spirit
Grace
is waiting if simple I just humble could!
Heaven-reward
awaits if in His Honor I simply would!
Too-easy!
Now! Happy Easter! I know I sacred-should!
I
Thank Thee! Lord! For Life! For Love! Special Blessings
these!
My
humble effort reply? Say many a “Thank you!” to any “Please!”
And---I
strive to “appreciate”…each Love holy-nuance case
Me
senses atuned to Life-detail
emotion-devotion to embrace
So!
Happy Easter! Welcome sacred-holy
spring Peace!
Another
day! A miracle! A chance! Advance life-lease!
Saints &
Angels! Seraphim & Cherubim! are special
as every day!
Happy Easter!
Peace! God loves you! His child! I humble-pray!
Amen!
The Cheyenne of the plains and the Shoshone Indians of the red-sandstone cliffs of the north were a quiet-people, more settled in the civility of society and culture, satisfied with their life.
These tribes sported a more
“European”-look with tall, lithe-bodies, handsome-faces with aquiline-noses,
thin-lips, and overall slender-builds. Many a white man had taken these women
as squaws; Buckskin had wintered with both the Cheyenne and Shoshone over the
years.
He had also wintered with the
Blackfeet and Crow, among others; the women of these tribes were “course” with
large-features and a “bull-in-a-china-shop” lack-of-class born of
poor-breeding, but, when the north-wind howled its chill against a lodge-wall
in the dark-of-night, they made for “warm”-comfort---and, no small
consolation…these maidens could really…Cook!
One late spring found Buck along a
mountain river dammed by numerous beaver; he set out to decimate their over-populated
society, thus earning a tidy profit for the pelts when he got to Denver. For
several weeks, he worked his traps, soon having wrangled many of the
inhabitants.
No
true-conservationist annihilates his
assets, always leaving some-seed for
next-year. Greed had no room in
civilized-society, even, and, especially for those inclined to
“live-off-the-land”.
Having stretched and cured nearly a
hundred-hides, Buckskin packed his gear, pelts and meager-belongings to mosey-down
Denver-way planning to take his time, see the country, do a bit of
antelope-hunting, catch the odd trout, or two and meet up with Rendezvous in mid-summer.
Ever-alert, Buckskin sharpened his
survival-acumen to peak-awareness; late the afternoon previous, he had spied
tracks of five un-shod ponies at a river crossing; they were a good half-a-day ahead of him; it could have
been just a hunting-party, but it paid dividends to be cautious.
(Part 7 of 8 Tomorow)
Native-Indian tribes nurtured a society of personalities diverse as was the physical appearance of the nomads; some were “friendly” to the interloper “white”-man; others showed a healthy-skepticism; some avoided any contact with the “white”-eyes. Some hated him outright!
Ogallala-Sioux openly and habitually warred with settlers and raided wagon-trains offering little compassion for women and children captured or outright killed in the altercations; the Sioux were not of a “prisoner-of-war” persuasion. Comanche Indians liked to steal horses from their red-brother enemies and especially the newly arrived hated “blue-bellies” of the United States Cavalry; it was rumored around myriad campfires, Indian and white, that these thieves could slip into camp like grey-wraiths in the midnight-dark, walk among the sleeping inhabitants, take anything they wanted, at their leisure, and get away without a sound; seemed they “carried” the horses away on silent-clouds. Such fantasy-“entertainment” tales delighted both red-man and white audiences, alike! In any legend resides a fair-modicum of truth!Navajos of the southwest seemed mostly
tranquil; they would fight, but, preferred Peace!
Mescalero Apache stretches across the
southwest from Texas to the Llano Estacada and down into old-Mexico eventually
into Arizona-Territory; they hated all-people,
regardless of color. Often, these rapscallions fought just for the
pure-pleasure of breaking the boredom-of-Peace.
They stole from neighboring tribes; occasionally, an Apache would slay another
member of his own tribe just to acquire the other’s horses or weapons or wives;
even brother against brother!
Sturdy-built of muscular-short stature, they were pernicious-adversaries who would die, rather than yield or quit the altercation. They could run all-day, going without food or water for a week
(Part 6 of 8 Tomorrow).
Ole Rufe had been with the man for several-years; he more than earned his keep and behaved “pretty”-well for a stubborn-critter born of independent-nature who could choose to be obnoxious. The animal had even once saved Buck’s-life! Literally! Aided by a little-training.
Buckskin had traipsed just a bit too far
west out of New Mexico Territory one fine spring as he searched rivers in the
southwest for any trace of gold or silver color; he had recovered a bit.
“Guess I sure-enough got the fever,” he sorely reminded himself,
later. It had nearly cost him his life. Had it not been for the “little”-trick Buck had taught the mule,
Rufe---Well?...Curtains!?
Mules had a reputation for being
stubborn, but, also for being loyal and somewhat intelligent.
Buckskin had trained Rufe to respond to
the master’s three quick-jerks on the lead-rope as the mule followed along
behind the rider’s horse. Whenever Buck triggered the signal with a trio of
instantaneous-pulls on the tether, ole-Rufe brayed an alarm and bucked,
kicking-out with both hind-legs. Such kick is not anything one ever wanted to
experience; could take a head clean-off.
Buck practiced the “trick” with ole Rufe
every so-often, just to keep the “knot-head” aware.
The training paid off one fine evening,
unexpectedly.
In the southwest desert everything is
“washed-out” as far as color goes save the late winter into early spring when a
pale “yellow” permeates the landscape. That happenstance characteristic of the
desert personality, along with Rufe’s “trick” and Indians’ love of “red” color,
saved Buckskin’s life.
He noticed a swatch of “red” among the
grey dust and bleached-out rocks of the desert; Apaches had a distinct attraction
to the color “red”. The cloth was only an inch long but stood out in the bland
surroundings like a lightning bolt on a dark night.
The Indian was laying in-wait covered in dust and concealed behind a low rock ready to ambush the “white-eyes”; a great plan and “deadly” save the telltale “red” patch give-away.
Buckskin jerked the lead rope three
quick tugs and Rufe brayed and kicked out with his rear legs.
Wham! “Bye! Bye!”
Would-be ambusher!
Buckskin was off his mount and on the
miscreant in a flash with knife in hand to finish the job; he could have easily
shot the attacker but that would have been a wasted bullet and powder, and,
too, a firearm report could carry up to twenty miles on calm evening air in the
desert; no point announcing his presence to the Indians’ friends or other
interlopers. Best keep caution on one’s side.
Sure enough, the dead Indian had a piece
of red cloth tied in his dirty hair; it had been his undoing.
Native-Indian tribes nurtured a society
of personalities diverse as was the physical appearance of the nomads; some
were “friendly” to the interloper “white”-man; others showed a
healthy-skepticism; some avoided any contact with the “white”-eyes. Some hated
him outright!
Ogallala-Sioux openly and habitually
warred with settlers and raided wagon-trains offering little compassion for
women and children captured or outright killed in the altercations; the Sioux
were not of a “prisoner-of-war” persuasion. Comanche-Indians liked to steal
horses from their red-brother enemies and especially the newly-arrived hated
“blue-bellies” of the United States Cavalry; it was rumored around myriad
campfires, Indian and white, that these thieves could slip into camp like
grey-wraiths in the midnight-dark, walk among the sleeping inhabitants, take
anything they wanted, at their leisure, and get away without a sound; seemed
they “carried” the horses away on silent-clouds. Such fantasy-“entertainment”
tales delighted both red-man and white audiences, alike! In any legend resides
a fair-modicum of truth!
Navajos of the southwest seemed mostly
tranquil; they would fight, but, preferred Peace!
He missed not the slightest movement. A “camp-robber” Jay hung tenaciously to a stout-stub of what had once been a willow branch on the far-side of the tree-line nearest the river; a “busy”-beaver towing a large branch to reinforce his dam spied the interloper at the same instant the man’s vision caught sight of the builder, Mr.-“Beaver” quickly dropped his burden and gave the animal’s trademark “slap”-of-the-tail as it dove beneath the water for safety causing the human to stifle a laugh at the antics; a Rainbow-trout flashed reddish-hues in an instant as it jumped, breaking the water-surface feeding on mid-summer May-flies; overhead, an eagle sailed-noiselessly; half-a-mile north, five mule-deer broke-brush on the opposite side of the river. Though he saw them for only several-seconds before they disappeared back into the thick-stand of willows, he did not discern any cause for their obvious-alarm; could have been a cougar.
Buckskin sat quiet for a full five-minutes, listening, searching, smelling, tasting the air; he rolled a smoke, noting that his tobacco was running low; need to restock, next civilization he came upon. Living off the land had its distinct advantages; it also made absent-comforts obvious.A slight-lull in the wind gave him a
potent-whiff of his own-odor. Whew!
He needed to wash his clothes---and…his putrid-body also. That dancehall-gal,
Cherise, down ole Denver-way would certainly object! He rubbed his jaw; going
to require a shave, too---and…a hair-trimming!
Buckskin surveyed the thick-stand of
trees before him, searching for the easiest-access to get through to the
river-bank before him. Satisfied that all was as it should be in his immediate-world,
he gave a very slight nudge with his heels to the side of Billy who
responded-naturally, carefully stepping forward. The lead-rope tightened in his
left hand as ole-Rufe, his pack-mule, tethered six feet behind his own mount
came forward to trail directly behind Billy; going through the thick stand of
willows could cause trouble if Rufe did not follow closely.
The sturdy-mule carried a heavy load of
beaver, deer, and antelope pelts along with one black bear hide. In the pannier
on Rufe’s-back was Buck’s rations, powder and balls and a bit of silver.
(Part 4 of 8 Tomorrow)
Life is “easy”---Today!…“Too”-easy!?---But…once!?
Silver-sparkle blue-white diamonds glistened like nighttime pinpoints-of-starlight on a black-abyss canvass-canopy at midnight intermittently-dancing between the swaying branches heavy with myriad green-leaves of summer, frothy ripple-crests of a cascading-river reflecting an alabaster-pale full-moon illumination.
On the late day-of-afternoon prior at a
mountain-altitude of 7,500-ft., a determined-chill cut the thin-air in spite of
clear-skies sporting a bright yellow-sun warm upon the face but lending no
relief from the bite-of-elevation.
A plethora of river-willow stretched
from the distant northeast-horizon to disappear behind far hills to the north;
a stiff mountain-breeze danced the trunks twisting and turning fresh leaves.
Rolling-plains drifted east and west
from the river-basin bordering either-side of the tributary; building-clouds to
the west threatened rain, probably within the next few hours ushering sunset.
A slight-sniff of the crisp-air revealed
an ever-do-slight hint of a heaviness toward-humidity; years of mountain-living
experience had taught Buckskin to not only hone his senses, but, to trust-them.
Twenty-years of survival in a hostile-harsh environment depended on a savvy-understanding; he had well-earned
his reputation as a “Mountain-man” of
the highest-order.
Survival-instinct!?---Necessary!?...Gone!?
An
ancient-discovery of “fire”, accidental (like natural-lightning) or
a fortuitous-purposed
accomplishment enhanced “life” positively.
From a
“survival-instinct” perspective, mankind has employed its
“Genius” over
millennia to better “life” for the masses-collective.
In the
“modern”-era, where life is “easy”, and, in myriad-consideration,
“cheap”, to wit:
(mass-murder, abortion, euthanasia…), the “survival-
instinct” has
become single-focused, that is, completely self-centered
total-selfishness
absent any generous-consideration of any-other people.
In a
yesteryear-space of “Independent-Individual” conclusions which
built
this---“Greatest-of-all-countries”…our United States of America!
We celebrate that
“Christian-Generosity” worthy-determination! Amen!
Jefferson! Jackson! Roosevelt!-(Teddy) JFK! And, Ronald Reagan! Hmm! Why these five?
Each of these
“real” men understood the “mandated-obligations” imposed upon them by the U.S.
Constitution: 1) Uphold the Constitution; 2) Protect the people! That “is” the President’s job! The “5”
revered the Constitution and “Loved” the country First…and ruled accordingly!
My writing makes
sacred my honored-mantra “Trinity” of: Faith!
Family! Freedom!
“Heroes” are as
common and myriad among us as are Saints
& Angels! Jesus and His
angel-band, 12-apostles, Santa Claus, countless men and women who make
America-great! And---You!
In my
(simple-humble) opinion: Only a selfless Independent-Individual
like “Santa Claus” makes the grade. To horde “material”-stuff and indulge “self” totally, to the exclusion of any other
person or “good” is an overt sign of weakness, usually a blatant confession of
an evil-“bully”. And---there is “no”-room in civil society…for “bullies! Like
any other evil-“cancer”---it needs to be…totally-eliminated immediately with extreme-prejudice. Amen! To that! Amen!
Many-people in
American-culture/society share a common affliction: Bored! Lonely! Afraid!
So?---How does
one escape that “trio”-trap? Simple!...I just choose not to participate!
Life is “Grand”!
Nothing like it that I know of! The Joy!
Indeed! Is in the journey! Amen!
The end
If you like writings about Faith! Family! & Freedom!
and the Independent-Individual! Check out my "27"
offerings on Amazon books; search Carl Schuler, author
A couple of
considerations to contemplate on your-journey:
Live! Love! Laugh!
Focus-contemplate!
Vigilant-be! No
one’s future is ever---late!
And---
Faith! Family! Freedom! Might just be all there really---Is!
In one
eternal-instant the only mercy blessing will be…His!
Amen!
The Independent-Individual (I-I) founded this great nation; sustains
it; maintains it!
The (I-I)
respects the U.S. Constitution! Revers it! Loves it! Worships it! It is sacred!
Celebrate the Independent-Individual! They are actual-heroes! “There” when needed!
Independent-Individual
Reckon so---I never was much of a “joiner”…liked my
own company; for the most-part.
As a child, my
“Heroes” were fictional characters who lived somewhere within the mesmerizing-magic
emanating from the inside of the black and white T.V. Dumb-kid!? Yeah! I reckon that’s true enough. Strong! Smart! Tough! Independent-Individuals! Fighting the
injustices of the “bad”-guys (and, winning!). Truth! Justice and the
American-way! Oh! Yeah!
Played a little
baseball on a kid’s league named after some “older”-man name of George Khoury;
found I loved the simplicity of the game; even had a penchant for “pitching”.
Took some “walks”, hit some singles, several doubles, maybe, a couple of
triples---and…perhaps? One homer! At 12, I got real lucky---pitched in the
IL-MO All-star game…in Busch Stadium! Wow!
But, boy! Was I
ever good---at…striking-out! I gave it the old college try---at 10 years old!
And, to confound
my “maturing”-process, the movies of the 50’s and 60’s portrayed the
“Good”-guys as wearing white-hats while the “bad”-guys wore black---and…the
“Good”-guys always won! My childhood
heroes: Superman & The Lone Ranger! Ah! The “Good”-ole
days!
To make my point
about the Perfection of the Independent-Individual might best be
exemplified with my considered-perception of our country’s Five Great-Presidents!
(Part 2 of 2 Tomorrow)
