the Christmas countdown - 3

the reason for the season

the Christmas countdown - 2

It was supposed to be a happy time, but it wasn't. Santa was really angry. It was Christmas Eve, and NOTHING was going right. Mrs. Claus had burned all the Christmas cookies. The elves were complaining about not getting paid for the overtime they had put in while making toys, and the reindeer had been drinking all afternoon and were dead drunk. They had taken the sleigh out for a spin earlier in the day and crashed it into a tree, breaking off one of the runners.

Santa was beside himself with anger. "I CAN'T believe it! I've got to deliver millions of presents all over the world just a few hours from now, and all my reindeer are drunk, my elves are on strike and I don't even have a Christmas tree! I sent that stupid little angel out HOURS ago to find a tree and he isn't even back yet! What am I going to do?"

Just then the little angel opened the front door and stepped in from the snowy night, dragging a Christmas tree behind him. "Yo, Santa," he said, "where do you want me to stick the Christmas tree this year?"

And thus the tradition of angels perched atop the Christmas trees came to pass. - Thomas Ellsworth q.gcfl

the Christmas countdown - 1

ABCDEFGHIJK MNOPQRSTUVWXYZ

on the road again - pt 6

Wednesday:

You'll be shocked, simply shocked to know that it snowed this morning. The grandkids school bus was two hours late. I have cleaned the snow and ice off my car to start getting ready for tomorrow. I also had my first session with a snow blower. An interesting device. Clogs with packed snow/slush easily.

I am sad at having to leave. This is such a peaceful place.

Took a few pictures. Went to eat. Loaded some of Brandy's pictures to my external hard drive.

Last post until I get to MD.

on the road again - pt 5

Monday:

Dogs apparently have tender tushes. The hair there needs to be trimmed with care.

Dogs have glands in the area that need "expressing" periodically.

Dogs like to lick themselves even when they have medication on.

The weekend and now Monday and Tuesday have been interesting learning thsse facts. But the dog is not amused.

And now for something completely different.

Eventually all good restaurants disappoint. Last night it was a little Greek place called Apollo. Moussaka as a cooked dish assembled after the fact and not baked. Sigh!

Today it was an Indian place. Just having an Indian place in such a small market is amazing and a blessing. But when potatoes are used to make dishes cheaper and pakora is more batter than vegetable, it is sad.

Tonight Olive Garden proved again it is not worthy of patronage. Very over cooked tilapia to be point of being mush covered with some funky bread crumb concoction. But it is outrageous to serve undersized portions of macaroni and cheese to children. My son finds it a good restaurant and his wife mostly agrees. So it goes.

But we went to a nice little light show down by a lake (Onondoga?) in or near Syracuse. The kids liked it. As did their parents. All's well that end's well.

I just wish I had brought my songbooks. Everyone misses the traditional carols, including me. Secular Christmas is a downer. The season needs a reason.

Have a blessed Advent -- waiting!

requiescat in pacem - pt 2

If you follow the links in my prior post on the death of Avery Dulles, you will see the common sentiment on the death of a loved one or respected figure that

a light has gone out

. I must respectfully disagree.

The light of the world is Christ. We are but mirrors that reflect and prisms that spread that light into the world. As indicated by all the messages of those who knew and knew of him, he was an admirable bearer of that burden.

But by his death he has not left us. He is still alive in the record of his work - his writings. He is still alive in the memories of his presence. And if we are Christians, we believe he is still alive in the communion of the saints.

As Jesus by his death and resurrection, he is still with us and has gone before us.

requiescat in pacem are words of faith - we believe them to be true.

requiescat in pacem are words of hope - we look forward to them as true of Avery and ourselves.

requiescat in pacem are words of love - we say and pray them to create and line the manger in which to place our memories.

requiescat in pacem - pt 1

Avery Dulles SJ (-2008)

beliefnet

America

some writings

on the road again - pt 4

Sunday morning. Took bath immediately. Back feels somewhat better. Exercise first gives better results.

The priest now at Ft Drum was ordained in the Ukraine in 1988 even though we was born and grew up here. He calls up the kids and talks to them before the homily.

At the end he blesses troops who are deploying that week. And then the children who have returned to the front.

The big event of the day was dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings to see the Steeler game. They won. Instead of a Hail Mary pass there was a questionable ruling by the refs on the deciding touchdown.

on the road again - pt 3

Saturday morning. My back is killing me. I did my exercises. Feel somewhat better. Ate a grapefruit I brought from Bill in FL. Good and red and sweet. Then an orange. Not sweet enough but juicy. Gave Chloe an orange. I cut up the pineapple I brought. B and C like pineapple. Libby gave me a paper Christmas tree.

Blogging now. Off to he shower. Took bath instead. Back feels much better, almost good.

The concert was in Watertown. It was about a two hour program. A lot of kids from 4 to 17 that play the piano, some quite well. A pair of twins, girls. Two brothers of similiar ages. 20-30 children in all. And of course Libby and Chloe.

For being so young Chloe is coming along well. Libby is coming on well as well. She has an ear for music. But I think next year I will not go to the winter concert but the summer one. The trip is a challenge.

We went to Red Lobster afterward. The children were under orders not to order macaroni and cheese. But one had tweeter's favorite - popcorn shrimp - and the other had chicken - is this a grandchild of mine? Sigh!

Used a gift card. Works well.

on the road again - pt 2

Friday morning Martinsburg WV was cool but not not cold, but the wind was fierce.

The motel is a family foreign affair. Not many people there at this time of year.

After passing through MD like rotten fruit, entered PA. Found the Costco in Harrisburg. But it took a long time to get the two miles to the gas pumps. And once again like in Ireland I couldn't remember the first digit of the pin of my debit card. After two misses I went inside to purchase a cash card. After standing in line at the register, I remembered 7 the correct answer. Then back to get over 12 gallons of gas - a literal tankful @ $1.699. At least I got a good turkey wrap at food counter.

PA weather was uneventful.

Called Brandy at NY welcome station. It is now snowing. Got the good news that there would be snow up to FD. Joy. Joy.

The welcome station had copious snow in parking lot. and I had old decl shoes.

The windshield washer fluid is apparently frozen. So I had to periodically stop and throw snow under the wipers.

Got to Watertown w/no gas to spare by driving slow. Called Kirk from gas station phone because there was no pay phone. (pause for Kat to lmao)

Went to FD gate and was rejected because

1. Their phones only call one of the post exchanges
   
2. I didn't have my registration and insurance card handy

Backtracked to WalMart. Found pay phone. Called Kirk. Dinner w/Kirk at chinese buffet - sigh! Then followed him to another gate where a buddy of his was working.

Grandkids were still and we sat on the couch while the new dog (Seamus) attempted to ravage my legs. Yet another hyper dog.

Went to bed. Added my blanket to the pile.

on the road again - pt 1

Left Kennesaw late - it was raining while I packed the car which was one of the things slowing me down. plus I got to bed late because of packing and washing clothes and dishes. plus my digestive system was acting up.

Went to Costco for gas - 1.399 - but should not have - wasn't worth it.

As usual traffic was moving ~80 but less than usual number of idiots who want to go faster. It was mostly dry until TN. Then rain until I stopped in VA to sleep.

In Knoxville, they have shut down I40 between downtown and I640 on east side - both I40 and I75 were detours, but different ones. I40 used I640. I75 went downtown as it did decades ago and then north on that spur that used to be I75.

Got gas on I81 X4. Should have waited - missed gas at 1.399 again. At VA welcome station tried to call Super8 but they have removed the pay phones!

Was going to get gas at Roanoke but didn't. A few exits north there was 1.399 again!

Most stations in nGA, TN and VA are 1.4x. WV is 1.699 across the street from motel.

Oh the motel. It has wireless, a microwave, a fridge, a TV and no elevator. I am on second floor. On the other hand I got here at 10:30.

I never stopped to eat, just had a few large plums, several 6 oz yogurt, a small container of cottage cheese, and frozen strawberries. The pineapple is for tomorrow, as is the leftover milk.

Remembered to bring small extension cord so I could plug in sleep apnea machine and computer.

And I am not in Winchester VA but 20mi to N in Martinsburg WV. I am very tired. Going to be going to bed as soon as I check mail.

p.s. at 80m/hr car only gets 25mpg

more of the poem without rhyme

pt 1

addendum to prior post

My father's father married the sister of his sister's husband.

The other side:

My mother's (Vera) parents were named Catherine and Joseph. He died in the decade before I was born. He was a shoemaker. Although Bill did not mention it, I think he was an organizer for a union.

They also lived in Covington, on Hermes avenue, which is below the "big bend" on 25-42. House probably gone now.

While I always thought they had a house to themselves, Bill said Monday night that the had the second and third floors of a house. Grandma and Grandpa had a bedroom on the lower floor. There were two bedrooms on the upper floor - one for girls and one for boys.

The oldest child was Gertrude - Trudie. She never married but had suitors into the 1950's. I remember one called "Mr B". Wore a suit and had a hat.

She was a successful business person in job placement. Her last job before she had cancer was with "Kelly Girl". She got me my first three jobs, including my first IT job. She was good enough that they continued to pay her something after she quit working - the story was she was paid for not using her contacts to work from home.

She owned the house in Ft Mitchell in which she, her sister Emma, her mother and her uncle Henry - Hank - lived. When she died in the 1960s, my father was the executor of her estate. She left $500 to each niece and nephew (8) and an extra $500 to her godchildren (my brother Tom and Bill's daughter Eileen). She also had listed all assets of hers and a beneficiary for each, down to some small items that people had asked for. She left the house and her monetary assets in trust. Hank stayed in the house until he died. I remember seeing her name on the tax bill and in the phone book well after her death.

I visited her house a few years a go. The current owner said he had been offered middle 5 figures for the fireplace, a Rookwood Pottery original.

to be continued

FL the neighbors

There is a couple across the street. She came running over on Saturday to see who had arrived from Cobb Cty. They used to live down the road a piece in Acworth. He was not chatty. She was.

Next door to Bill is a couple. Only saw her through the front storm door. He came over because Several people use his wireless router to connect to the i-net. It is password protected. He had to give me the code while I keyed it into a setup screen.

He worked in IT at various times. Worked for IBM for a few years. Very smart guy who seemed young relative to retirement. We talked for about a half hour.

Next to him is a woman - a widow - from New England. Emotionally needy who appears to others as a busybody. We chatted for a bit. She has difficulty accepting the loss of the companionship of her husband.

But the place seems like a beautiful prison. People wave. But it seems like a gesture of distancing not inclusion. The complex cares for the yard and the outside of the house. But there appear to be rules that prevent individuation.

The citrus is free. But people leave refuse from it on the golf course.

The creek is like a moat because of alligators and snakes.

It was very peaceful to be there. But I think if I lived there, I would want to be out and about doing something. Golf is just not my game. Nor is smoozing. Perhaps I am not a people person. But then cannibals are people persons.

This part really should have been posted to pupwhines.blogspot.com.

American Anti-Catholicism

http://insidecatholic.com/Joomla/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=4977&Itemid=48

FL pt 3

Saturday, I went to the clubhouse one day because my lower back was hurting. There is a minimal gym -- an upscale but minimalist device for doing ab exercise, a treadmill, a sort of a rowing machine, and three multiple purpose machines. I did my back stretching exercises, some of my ab reps, then most of the upper body exercises.

Monday I went for two walks to try to deal with the back. Later I tried to use the Kat's camera (she took mine to Peru). Her camera would not operate -- memory stick error. So I went to WalMart (I will have to confess that) and bought a cheap camera, a memory stick and some batteries.

I went to the beach (~20 minutes) and took pictures. I am told the sunsets are gorgeous. We went to a buffet restaurant that night. Mediocre. Where is Golden Corral when you need them.

This morning (Tuesday) got away about 10 after warm goodbyes.

On the way out I saw what I now know are sand cranes -- monsters. Well the new camera wouldn't work -- it wouldn't power up. So I went to WM and waited in line. The salesperson had warned me the batteries would fail rather quickly but less than 24 hours is ridiculous. And of course it powered up for the very young lady in customer service.

I left without out going back for a picture of the cranes.

Again the traffic was very quick. My car may need work as I was getting less than 24 mpg at 80 mph.

around I75 GA exit 16 I went to a buffet (Old Country?) -- horrible place -- I got nauseous. Never again. I was pressured because it was already 2 pm.

Florida pt 1

Went to Staples before 9 am and got Norton Internet for $60 w/ two rebates totaling $60. So if/when the rebate checks come in, it was free.

Left J Christopher's in Sandy Springs before 10 am. No traffic through downtown on 75. Gas at Costco in Morrow was 1.63. Also made two pit stops (before and after). And of course minutes later there was a station with 1.57.

Shortly thereafter it started to mist, then rain. Rain on and off until FL welcome station, where it poured while I ate. I had gotten my usual take-away salad w/avocado ranch and put it in the back of the car.

Called Bill before leaving.

Traffic everywhere was fast. In GA except when rain was pouring ~80. In Fl, where there was no rain after the welcome station, 80-90. At 90 I was still 1) getting passed, 2) getting tailgated. Crazy.

Got to exit 275 before 6 pm. It took 20 min to get to New Port Richey. Then 10 min to find the address in the development. They have address numbers on the units that were not lit. They have numbers/letters on some mail boxes which are easy to read but mean nothing.

I have heard of living on a golf course, but Bill and Marie's backyard is the golf course -- the eleventh fairway. The hazard on the other side of the fairway is a creek w/snakes and aligators. on the edge of it are orange, lime and grapefruit trees, w/fruit in all stages of existence (fresh fall to rotten) on the ground. Also a few strange oak trees w/Spanish moss in the branches.

In Houston, oaks grow mostly straight to 20-30 ft tall. In Atlanta, less oaks but taller (30-40), as are all trees there. Probably because of the shallow clay layer in Houston vs hard clayey soil but no clay layer.

Here, in sandy soil/sand, the oaks are up to about 15 ft but branch out in strange and beautiful ways.

Florida pt 2

Went to Mass this morning at St Thomas Aquinas church in New Port Richey. 2200 families. Large, relatively new (1 decade?) building with moderately large, excellent quality, stained glass windows. $1.5mil budget. Staff of 24.

Excellent homily. Fr Michael Lydon started from the current news -- terrorism in India, protests in Thailand, war in Congo -- then moved to US news -- the worker trampled to death by Black Friday shoppers in WalMart store. Tied it in well to readings for the 1st Sunday of Advent.

Cantor was too good not to be paid -- or at least deserve to be paid. Keyboarder excellent. Choir weak and not miked -- mostly women.

Pirates

Aren't they cute?

A poem out of rhyme

The internet may be a wonderful place with a lot of information but it does not have the lyrics of poem/song from which the title was taken.

Memories
Like a poem out of rhyme
Misty water colored memories
of the way we were

Of course maybe the song is The Way We Were
* * *

My father's (Andrew George) parents were named Louisa and Joseph. I remember he called her Lou.

They lived on York St in Covington. The street was/is short, one way from Pike St to 9th St, not wide enough for a car to park on one side and yet to allow another car pass. They lived on the right side of the street.

The current Yahoo satellite image shows that a number of houses on their side of the street from Pike have been torn down and replaced w/a parking lot.

The house was the northern version of a "shotgun" house - three rooms front to back arranged to use the least amount of front footage. There was a basement, a least part of which had a dirt floor. The basement was not heated.

I think the furnace was coal fired but I also remember a lumber yard delivering a load of small wood pieces in the fall which had something to do with the heating system.

Facing the house from the street, the left side of the house appeared to be the property line. Ditto for the house on the right. The side yard was paved from the front wrought iron fence to beyond the back corner of the house. The front yard was about 10 ft deep in grass. I don't remember any bushes or trees.

The back yard was about half the size of the full lot. It was before I was born a garden for roses and peonies. When I was young, I remember an old compost pile in the far right corner of the yard that still had citrus peels, not yet decayed, sticking from its top.

I remeber hearing a story that grandpa bred the roses and peonies. When he was done, he would rip out what he had produced and start a new breeding project. This infuriated grandma. All she wanted was pretty flowers.

The front room of the house had a covered porch which ended with a door. The door was not used in my memory. That corner of the room had grandpa's chair, possibly a rocker.

There was also a fireplace on the outside wall of that side of the house. I don't remeber it being used, but I do remember early on seeing a creche in it at Christmas. I remeber there being a mantle.

I remember the front window being large and a single pane of glass.

The front room contained a large bed with the footboard cut off to accomodate greandpa's height (6'3"). It also had a massive wardrode. Don't you got that when the house was shut down.

Besides grandpa's chair, I remember two "couches" in the middle room. They were pittiful to sit on. They may have been convertible into beds so the four brothers (Marcellus aka Bud, Andrew, Eugene aka Gene, Joseph) could sleep there. I don't know where Irma(linda) slept.

The back room was the kitchen: stove on the back wall and sink on the right wall. The table, a beautiful round wood one with claw feet, was against the left wall. The far left corner had a door to the back yard. The near left corner the door to the bathroom. The near right corner had the main entrance, with several (4?) steps down to the ground. I don't remember an inside entrance to the basement just the outside one. If there was one it was somewhere on the left wall of the back room.

The bathroom was the length of the middle room and narrow. The tub was free standing, again with claw feet.

The only kitchen story I remember is this:

Covington had a very large German popualtion. Where there are Germans, there are posperous sausage makers. Grandpa had a "favorite" sausage. I suspect it was cheap. I don't know its name but I was told it was made at the end of the day but chopping (not grinding) left over peices of meat (not the god stuff but the leftovers like organ meat) and stuffing it in a large casing, probably an animal intestine. Don't know if it was prok or beef.

It looked terrible. You could see the different pieces of meat used to make it - they were different colors and textures. It smelled when being fried in a skillet. Grandma would fuss about the smell while frying it.

Just remmebered another story. Around the end of WWII, Irm came home with a new hat. I took one look at her modeling her new hat, wnet to the kitchen, got a pot out of the cabinets and placed it on my head. There is a picture of it somewhere.

[to be continued]

a grand bit of excitement

Hey Mary, their was a fire in our building last night in a vacant unit on the 2ND floor.. we live on the 7Th.... No one was hurt but when we went to evacuate there was a lot of smoke and the girls were pretty scared because I was flipping out.. of course... :)

Anyway, A keeps waiting for an alarm to go off.. We were back in our place by 7 but she didn't fall asleep until 12.. If you guys could just talk to her about it if she wants to and reassure her that she is safe.. Their were about 20 different trucks, ambulances and police with lights going for about 2 1/2 hours.. She was very aware..

The lights are still out in certain parts of the building and it smells like smoke everywhere including our place.. Their is also smoke that collected on dust all over our apartment and A See's in and is worried.. J was going to try to take care of most of it today before she got home...

I am going to contact the fire department down the street from school to see if they can visit kindercare and see if that helps..

She will probably be very tired and a little upset..

Thanks,

T [my daughter]

p.s.

A is my granddaughter and J is my son-in-law

for the mothers of my granddaughters

Raising teenagers is a challenge, so my hubby and I came up with the following rules to help the kids understand what was expected of them during their pre-adult status.

Rules of This Household

1. If you are not here for dinner, too bad. This is not a fast-food place where the cook is on duty at all times. The cook works full time and does not need a second job.

2. If you make a mess, clean it up. The dishwasher is open 24 hours a day to service you as are the vacuum, broom, and sponge. Please help them to help you by using them. If you need assistance, ask the cook -- she will be happy to give you training on any of the equipment.

3. The taxi service for this household is not on call 24 hours. You must make reservations at least 12 hours in advance. You have two good legs, skateboards, and bikes that are somewhat operational; one of you has a vehicle that works. Use them. By the way, skateboards are to be used on the outside of this house and are never to be used in the living room just because the landing is softer when you fall.

4. We are not a bank and you have no collateral to offer us. Face it: We own everything you have and I have receipts to prove it, so don't ask us for loans. Get jobs! We have them. Try it and you might like it (not so much the work as the money).

5. Curfew is negotiable, but try not to be late too often because it could go either way.

6. Tell us where you are going. GOOD GRIEF! I am way older than you, and I still tell my mother where I am going when I am at her house. Leave us a note or try to form words describing where you are going while we are in the room with you. Honestly, we don't bite unless provoked.

7. You know how to use a phone. Some of you even have cell phones. We like to hear your voice if you are going to be late. You can use a phone to find out what's for dinner, to let us know you made it to wherever all right, or just to let us hear your beautiful voice.

8. No food in your room, the living room, the bathroom, or anywhere in the house other than the kitchen or dining area EVER! How many times do I have to say this?

9. You do not contribute financially in any way, shape, or form to this household, so try to pull your weight in other ways: Clean something, put something away, surprise us by doing it before we ask. Otherwise, you may find yourself financially supporting yourself on the OUTSIDE of this house. - Casey

fuer katze und kinder

My mother was recently on a flight returning from Utah. As the plane was a small puddle jumper, the flight attendants were required to demonstrate the life vest, the oxygen mask, etc. instead of turning on a video. After they finished their presentation, one of them said

To those of you who listened, thank you. To those of you who ignored us, good luck.

- castle91

~~~

Several women appeared in court, each accusing the others of causing the trouble they were having in the apartment building where they lived. The women were arguing noisily even in the court. The judge, banging his gavel to quiet them, said,

We are going to do this in an orderly manner. I can't listen to all of you at once. I'll hear the oldest first.

The case was dismissed for lack of testimony. - Thomas Ellsworth

~~~

At the company water cooler, I bragged about my children's world travels: one son was teaching in Bolivia, another was working in southern Italy, and my daughter was completing a year-long research project in India. One co-worker's quip, however, stopped me short.

What is it about you," he asked, "that makes your kids want to get so far away?

- Thomas Ellsworth

my borthers and I my represent this remark

memory

Son

I having been cleaning out closets and found a t-shirt from El Rancho Cima - Sam Houston Area Council.

Do you remember going to scout camp there?

I remember driving you there. I stayed the night on a cot in a tent but didn't get much sleep.

The tents were pitched on concrete slabs on the side of a hill leading to water (creek? lake?)

The next morning, as I stood downhill from the tent, I chanced to look up at it. The flaps were open. The bed appeared to be shimmering. The underside of the bed was covered with an incredible number of "daddy long legs."

love

dad

message from OR

Hi everyone –

I had my cast removed yesterday and the most beautiful weather (sunny and 70+) in the valley to celebrate! Doctor said all was OK and now we just wait for 6 more weeks for the bones to heal. I’m in a splint and can remove it to bathe and while sitting very still! No physical therapy at this time. He thinks possibly I won’t need PT at all as I have been exercising my fingers and have gained almost all mobility back in the fingers. The surgery scar is downright scary – so I am ready for Halloween this year – I’ll just hold up my arm and scare all the treat-or-treaters! Will let you all know more after Thanksgiving!

[sister-in-law]

pictures from my brother in OR

We are finally getting the actual acrylic installed for the new solarium.

Also some bay photos from last week when we were still having beautiful weather. We have had more pelicans this year than any previous year.

Naming the sheep

The following story comes from Julie Helms in Christian Reader "Lite Fare":

My husband and I, with our two daughters, operate a small sheep farm. One day a non-farming friend asked,

How can you bear to slaughter those cute little lambs?

My husband explained,

We don't want to get emotionally attached to the ones we plan to eat, so we don't give them names.

Not satisfied, the friend probed,

What about your kids?

Myhusband quickly replied,

Oh, we name them!

While very few of us are personally familiar with sheep and shepherds, the relationship between the two is one of the most powerful images in the Bible used to describe the relationship between Christ and his followers. The loving care shown by shepherds to their flock, and the willingness of sheep to utterly depend on what the shepherd can provide offer a glimpse of our personal relationship with the good shepherd. While it may seem to be a small thing, our name plays a significant role in that relationship.

He who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the doorkeeper opens, and the sheep hear his voice; and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. (Jn 10:2-3)

"He calls his own sheep by name." Though there are many disciples of Christ around the world, we are not just "one of the masses", not just a number. We are intimately known and loved by the good shepherd. He knows us by name. It tells us not only that he cares about us, but that he plans for his relationship with us to be a lasting one.

May the fact that your shepherd knows your name give you comfort this day.

unbearable

Many hymnals have a hymn called "Gladly the Cross I'd Bear." It seems that one week when the church secretary was typing the Sunday bulletin, she asked the pastor which hymn would come just before the sermon. He replied with the above-mentioned hymn. The following Sunday the bulletin read: Hymn No. 134: "Gladly, the Cross-eyed Bear." - Donald Leininger

five wonders of my world

my granddaughters

SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD

I heard about a group of Geography students who studied the Seven Wonders of the World. At the end of that section, the students were asked to list what they each considered to be the Seven Wonders of the World. Though there was some disagreement, the following got the most votes: Egypt's Great Pyramid, the Taj Mahal, the Grand Canyon, the Panama Canal, the Empire State Building, St. Peter's Basilica and China's Great Wall.

While gathering the votes, the teacher noted that one student, a quiet girl, hadn't turned in her paper yet. So she asked the girl if she was having trouble with her list. The quiet girl replied, "Yes, a little. I couldn't quite make up my mind because there were so many."

The teacher said, "Well, tell us what you have, and maybe we can help." The girl hesitated, then read, "I think the Seven Wonders of the World are to touch and to taste, to see and to hear . . . " She hesitated a little, "and then to run and to laugh and to love."

It is far too easy for us to look at the exploits of man and refer to them as "wonders" while we overlook all that God has done, regarding them as merely "ordinary." May you be reminded today of those things which are truly wondrous.

"I will remember the works of the LORD; Surely I will remember Your wonders of old. I will also meditate on all Your work, and talk of Your deeds.....Who is so great a God as our God? You are the God who does wonders." (Ps 77:11-14a)

Praise be to "the God who does wonders"!

- alansmith.servant@gmail.com

Coping with Work - Phase 1

You are listening to Stevie Wonder.

(Your first day at work and all is fine and great. Your coworkers are wonderful, your cubicle is oh so cute, and your boss is the best.)

Coping with Work - Phase 2

You are listening to HOUSE music.

(After a while you are so busy that you are not sure if you're coming or going anymore.)

Coping with Work - Phase 3

You are listening to Metal.

(This is what you feel like at month end)

Coping with Work - Phase 4

You are listening to Hip Hop.

(You become bloated due to stress, feel sluggish and suffer from constipation. Your coworkers are too cheerful for your liking and the walls of your cubicle are closing in. You have started thinking 'WHATEVER' about your boss.)

Coping with Work - Phase 5

You are listening to GANGSTA RAP.

(After more time passes, your eyes start to twitch, you forget what a 'good hair day' feels like as you just fall out of bed and load up on caffeine!!)COFFEE!!! MUST HAVE COFFEE!!!!

Coping with Work - Phase 6

You are listening to Techno (on 'something')

(AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You have built a makeshift door on your cubicle to keep people out, You have a dartboard with your boss¢s picture on it in your cube, and You wonder why you are even here in the first place...)

random thoughts from the i-net

However beautiful the strategy, you should occasionally look at the results. - Winston Churchill

Lots of folks confuse bad management with destiny. - Ken Hubbard

I was getting my hair cut at a neighborhood shop, and I asked the barber when would be the best time to bring in my two-year-old son for his first haircut. Without hesitation, the barber answered, "When he's four." - Thomas Ellsworth

sticky situation

SIN WILL TAKE YOU FURTHER


The following "urban legend" has been around since 1999:

A Vermont native, Ronald Demuth, found himself in a difficult position. While touring the Eagle's Rock African Safari (Zoo) with a group from Russia, Mr. Demuth went overboard to show them one of America's many marvels. He demonstrated the effectiveness of "Crazy Glue"... the hard way.

Apparently, Mr. Demuth wanted to demonstrate just how good the adhesive was, so he put about 3 ounces of the adhesive in the palms of his hands, and jokingly placed them on the buttocks of a passing rhino. The rhino, a resident of the zoo for thirteen years, was not initially startled. However, once it became aware of being stuck to Mr. Demuth, it began to panic and ran around the petting area wildly making Mr. Demuth an unintended passenger.

"Sally [the rhino] hasn't been feeling well lately. She had been very constipated. We had just given her a laxative and some depressants to relax her bowels, when Mr. Demuth played his juvenile prank," said James Douglass, caretaker. During Sally's tirade two fences were destroyed, a shed wall was gored, and a number of small animals escaped. Also, during the stampede, three pygmy goats and one duck were stomped to death.

As for Demuth, it took a team of medics and zoo caretakers' to remove his hands from her buttocks. First, the animal had to be captured and calmed down. However, during this process the laxatives began to take hold and Mr. Demuth was repeatedly showered with over 30 gallons of rhino diarrhea. "It was tricky. We had to calm her down, while at the same time shield our faces from being pelted with rhino dung. I guess you could say that Mr. Demuth was into it up to his neck.

Once she was under control, we had three people with shovels working to keep an air passage open for Mr. Demuth. We were able to tranquilize her and apply a solvent to remove his hands from her rear," said Douglass. "I don't think he'll be playing with Crazy Glue for a while."

The first time I heard this story (and thought it was true), I remember thinking, "What in the world was Mr. Demuth thinking????" Lest I be too harsh and critical, though, I have to remember all the times in my life when I have "attached" myself to something sinful. The results were just as disastrous, and I have often found myself wondering, "What was I thinking?" The truth is, I really wasn't thinking at all.

That's the very nature of sin. We "attach" ourselves, thinking we can always quit whenever we want to. We don't even consider what the consequences will be. I appreciate this quote by an unknown author: "Sin will take you further than you want to go, keep you longer than you want to stay and cost you more than you want to pay."

I almost didn't use the story above because of it being so disgusting. But then I realized that it is nothing compared to the disgusting things that sin leads us to do in our own lives. Perhaps we need to be reminded every now and then of just how disgusting the results of sin can be.

"But each one is tempted when he is drawn away by his own desires and enticed. Then, when desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, brings forth death." (James 1:14-15)

To what (or whom) have you attached yourself?

M$

The residents of Silicon Valley are more confused than usual after a billboard campaign by the National Multiple Sclerosis Society of America.

One of the ads uses the slogan "MS: It's not a software company" exploiting the fame of a certain company to draw attention to an altogether worthier cause. Requests to comment on the campaign have been met by a surly silence by Microsoft which doesn't relish the association of ideas, but is painfully aware that it can't afford to appear insensitive over such an issue. Seasoned IT professionals will have no trouble telling the two MS's apart.

One is a debilitating and surprisingly widespread affliction that renders the sufferer barely able to perform the simplest task. The other is a disease.

John Habkirk
Website Manager
squiffy@msrc.co.uk
uga2008Oct6

chuckles

A guy walks into a bar and there's a horse serving drinks. The horse asks, "What are you staring at? Haven't you ever seen a horse tending bar before?" The guy replies, "It's not that. I just never thought the parrot would sell the place." q.marsha1945@AUSTIN.RR.COM uga2008Oct7

~~~

"There are two divergent opinions on how best to treat you," the doctor told the old perfesser. "I'm convinced you need a triple bypass. Your HMO says all you need to do is rub this $14 tube of salve on your chest." q.Paul Benoit uga2008Oct7

~~~

A young lady visited the government matchmaker for marriage and requested - "I'm looking for a spouse. Can you please help me to find a suitable one?" The marriage officer said, "Your requirements, please."

"Well, let me see. Needs to be good looking, polite, humorous, sporty, knowledgeable, good at singing and dancing. Willing to accompany me the whole day at home during my leisure hour, if I don't go out. Telling me interesting stories when I need companion for conversation and be silent when I want to rest." The officer listened carefully and replied, "Hmmmm, I think I understand. You need TV set." q.Maurizio Mariotti uga2008Sep23

yet another grandpup report

part two

Sorry but this sounds whiny.

I "slept" 13 hours last night.

The change of seasons messed up my sinuses. They are not happy.

I missed choir this morning. I overslept the alarm.

I am writing this from the master bedroom. Because it is in the back of the house facing north, it gets no direct sun, except in the middle of the summer when the sun is high in the sky. Its darkness suits me today.

My back does not like the cooling weather. Muscle spasms in the right leg are trying to make a comeback.

I am back to the point where things that used to bring pleasure fail to do so. Giving an RCIA presentation a few weeks ago brought back some passion. I need more.

I asked the Kat to marry me and she declined. It is the pup's turn to be grumpy.

The house has overwhelmed me. There is no way I can finish all the projects I have started before I die.

They delivered a load of wood chips last week and placed it on some tree branches instead of in the middle of the yeard.

What we have here is a failure to communicate.

I have reached the point where I would like to "retire" but, like many people, don't think I can afford to lose the paycheck.

I can only praise the Lord for m chidren and grandchildren. For friends and family. For trees and flowers and animals.

for my granddaughters

My dad says I am ENORMOUSLY GORGEOUS. I wonder if I really am.

To be ENORMOUSLY GORGEOUS...
Sarah says you need to have beautiful long, curly hair like she has. I don't.

To be ENORMOUSLY GORGEOUS...
Justin says you must have perfectly straight white teeth like he has. I don't.

To be ENORMOUSLY GORGEOUS...
Jessica says you can't have any of those little brown dots on your face called freckles. I do.

To be ENORMOUSLY GORGEOUS...
Mark says you have to be the smartest kid in the seventh-grade class. I'm not.

To be ENORMOUSLY GORGEOUS...
Stephen says you have to be able to tell the funniest jokes in the school. I don't.

To be ENORMOUSLY GORGEOUS...
Lauren says you need to live in the nicest neighborhood in town and in the prettiest house. I don't.

To be ENORMOUSLY GORGEOUS...
Matthew says you can only wear the coolest clothes and the most popular shoes. I don't.

To be ENORMOUSLY GORGEOUS...
Samantha says you need to come from a perfect family. I don't.

But every night at bedtime my dad gives me a big hug and says, "You are ENORMOUSLY GORGEOUS, and I love you."

My dad must know something my friends don't.

-Carla O'Brien q._Chicken Soup For the Kids' Soul_

We all need to be reminded from time to time of that which makes us beautiful. We look for beauty in the clothes we wear or the make-up or the tan. True beauty is found much deeper.

"Do not let your adornment be merely outward -- arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel -- rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God." (1Pt 3:3-4)

- Alan Smith _http://www.tftd-online.com_

The Ostrich

Moshe walks into Minky’s Restaurant in his home town of London, England, with a full-grown ostrich behind him. When the waitress asks him for his order, Moshe says, "Salt Beef and latkes plus a coke please." She then turns to the ostrich, "What's yours?"

"I'll have the same," says the ostrich.

Five minutes later the waitress returns with the order. "That will be £19.46 please," she says. Moshe reaches into his pocket and pulls out the exact change for payment.

The next day, Moshe and the ostrich return. Moshe orders, "Salt Beef and latkes plus a coke please."

The ostrich says, "I'll have the same."

Again Moshe reaches into his pocket and pays with the exact change.

This becomes routine for six consecutive days until the two enter again. "The usual?" asks the waitress.

"No, this is Thursday night, so I’ll have a sirloin steak, baked potato and a salad," says Moshe.

"Same," says the ostrich.

Soon after, the waitress brings the order and says, "That will be £26.62." Once again Moshe pulls the exact change from his pocket and puts it on the table. The waitress cannot hold back her curiosity any longer. "How do you manage to come up with the exact change in your pocket every time?" she asks.

"Well," says Moshe, "several years ago, I was cleaning out my loft and found an old lamp in the corner. When I rubbed it, a Genie appeared and offered me two wishes. My first wish was that if I ever had to pay for anything, I would just put my hand in my pocket and the right amount of money would always be there."

"That's brilliant," says the waitress. "Most people would ask for a million pounds or something, but you'll always be as rich as you want for as long as you live!"

"That's right," says Moshe. "Whether it's a pint of milk or a Lexus, the exact money is always there."

The waitress then asks, "So what's with the ostrich, then?"

Moshe sighs, pauses and answers, "My second wish was for a tall bird with a big toches and long legs who agrees with everything I say."

- marsha1945@AUSTIN.RR.COM q.uga2008Sep21

Irish Taxi Driver

for the Kat

A British passenger in a taxi in Dublin leaned over to ask the driver a question and tapped him on the shoulder. The driver screamed, lost control of the cab, nearly hit a bus, drove up over the curb, and stopped just inches from the edge of the bridge over the Liffey River. For a few moments everything was silent in the cab, and then the still shaking driver said, 'Be-Jesus, I'm sorry, but you scared the devil out of me.' The frightened Brit apologized to the driver and said he didn't realize a mere tap on the shoulder could frighten an Irishman so much. The driver replied, ' Will the Saints in Heaven forgive me, it's entirely my fault. Today is my first day driving a cab. I've been driving a hearse for the last 25 years.' - mhennigan@HAWAII.RR.COM q.uga2008Sep18

Why Disasters Are Getting Worse

time.com

possible activity for retirement

Working people frequently ask retired people what they do to make their days interesting. Well, for example, the other day the wife and I went into town and went into a shop. We were only in there for about 5 minutes. When we came out, there was a cop writing out a parking ticket. We went up to him and I said, 'Come on man, how about giving a senior citizen a break?' He ignored us and continued writing the ticket. I called him a Dummkopf. He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having worn tires. So Mary called him a dumbbell. He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with the first. Then he started writing a third ticket. This went on for about 20 minutes. The more we abused him, the more tickets he wrote. Personally, we didn't care. We came into town by bus. We try to have a little fun each day now that we're retired. It's important at our age. - q.Jim Berry (with some editing by the functional illiterate as Jim has previously referred to tftd)

thoughts on the eleventh of September

Fighting terrorism is like being a goalkeeper. You can make a hundred brilliant saves but the only shot that people remember is the one that gets past you. - Paul Wilkinson (b. 1937), British scholar, author on terrorism _Daily Telegraph_ (London, 1992Sep1)
Thanks to our leadership and especially to all those behind the scenes for the seven years without another incident on our shores when everyone was expecting many more in the aftermath of 2001Sep11. - tftd

Furious activity is no substitute for understanding. - H. H. Williams

You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late. - Ralph Waldo Emerson q.the other TFTD 2001Dec18

All our dreams can come true - if we have the courage to pursue them. - Walt Disney

Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. - Harold R. McAlindon

If your ship doesn't come in, swim out to it. - Jonathan Winters

Maturity won't come with age... it comes with the acceptance of responsibility.

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart. - Helen Keller

The difference between a dream and a goal is that a goal has a deadline. - Dr. Phil

The mind has exactly the same power as the hands; not merely to grasp the world, but to change it. - Colin Wilson

The smallest good deed is better than the grandest good intention. - Duguet

===

Dispel the darkness, Light one candle

from gd#2

now if I could only eat M&Ms

love you Libby

grandpup

the grandpup report - part deux

part 1

the ultrasound, upper GI and CT scan were ok. then I had a test involving radioactive Tc⁹⁹. it shows I have dyskinesia. I will talk to doctor this week to find out the implications of this. my symptom was pain in the area of my gall bladder if I eat to close to lying down.

my muscles are better. I stopped taking one of my urinary meds so I could restart my K supplement. My muscle spasms seem to be under control.

please continue to pray for me.

a couple of weeks ago I received the anointing of the sick.

warren peas, hypocite divsion

Fox News Forced Out of Protest March

blowin' in the wind

Windmills split town and families

LOWVILLE, N.Y. -"Listen," John Yancey says, leaning against his truck in a field outside his home.

The rhythmic whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of wind turbines echoes through the air. Sleek and white, their long propeller blades rotate in formation, like some otherworldly dance of spindly-armed aliens swaying across the land.

Yancey stares at them, his face contorted in anger and pain.

He knows the futuristic towers are pumping clean electricity into the grid, knows they have been largely embraced by his community.

But Yancey hates them.

He hates the sight and he hates the sound. He says they disrupt his sleep, invade his house, his consciousness. He can't stand the gigantic flickering shadows the blades cast at certain points in the day.

But what this brawny 48-year-old farmer's son hates most about the windmills is that his father, who owns much of the property, signed a deal with the wind company to allow seven turbines on Yancey land.

"I was sold out by my own father," he sputters.

Yancey lives in a pine-studded home on Yancey Road, which he shares with his wife, Marilyn, and three children. The house is perched on the edge of the Tug Hill plateau, half a mile from the old white farmhouse in which Yancey and his seven siblings were raised.

Signs for fresh raspberries are propped against a fence. Horses graze in a lower field. Amish buggies clatter down a nearby road. From the back porch are sweeping views of the distant Adirondacks.

But the view changed dramatically in 2006. Now Yancey Road is surrounded by windmills.

Yancey and some of his brothers begged Ed Yancey to leave the family land untouched. But the elder Yancey pointed to the money _ a minimum of $6,600 a year for every turbine. This is your legacy, he told them.

Yancey doesn't want the money or the legacy or the view.

"I just want to be able to get a good night's sleep and to live in my home without these monstrosities hovering over me," he says.

For a long time he didn't speak to his father. The rift took a toll on his marriage. He thought about leaving Yancey Road for good.

---

The Tug Hill plateau sits high above this village of about 4,000, a remote North Country wilderness of several thousand acres, where steady winds whip down from Lake Ontario and winter snowfalls are the heaviest in the state.

For decades dairy farmers, Irish and German and Polish immigrants, and lately the Amish, have wrested a living from the Tug _ accepting lives of wind-swept hardship with little prospect of much change.

Then, a few years ago, change came to Tug Hill, and it arrived with such breathtaking speed that locals still marvel at the way their land and lives were utterly transformed.

Overnight, it seemed, caravans of trucks trundled onto the plateau, laden with giant white towers. Concrete foundations were poured. Roads were built and for a couple of years the village was ablaze with activity.

Today, 195 turbines soar above Tug Hill, 400 feet high, their 130-foot long blades spinning at 14 revolutions per minute.

The $400 million Maple Ridge wind project, the largest in New York state, brought money and jobs and a wondrous sense of prosperity to a place that had long given up on any. Lately, it has also brought a sense of importance. Lowville and the neighboring hamlets of Martinsburg and Harrisburg, which also host turbines, are at the forefront of a wind energy boom that T. Boone Pickens and Al Gore have hailed as the wave of the future.

But for all the benefits of clean, renewable energy, the windmills come with a price _ and not just the visual impact.

"Is it worth destroying families, pitting neighbor against neighbor, father against son?" asks John Yancey, whose family have farmed Tug Hill for generations. "Is it worth destroying a whole way of life?"

Similar questions are being asked across the state and the country as more and more small towns grapple with big money and big wind. For many, the changes are worth it. With rising oil and gas prices and growing concerns about global warming, wind is becoming an attractive alternative. The U.S Department of

Energy recently released a report that examines the feasibility of harnessing wind power to provide up to 20 percent of the nation's total electricity by 2030. U.S. wind power plants now produce less than 1 percent.

The Maple Ridge project produces enough electricity to power about 100,000 homes. Other wind projects are going up all over the state. Pickens is talking about building a $10 billion wind project _ the world's largest _ in the Texas panhandle. Everyone, it seems, is talking about wind.

Yancey understands its seduction. An electrician, he knows as much about the turbines as anyone. He helped build and install the ones on Tug Hill. He can rattle off statistics about the bus-sized nacelle at the top of the tower which houses the generator and the sophisticated computer system that allows the blades to yaw into the wind. He talks about the 1.65 mw Vestas with authority and respect.

Turbines have their place, Yancey says, just not where people live.

And he accuses the wind company of preying on vulnerable old-timers like his father.

---

Ed Yancey sits in the front room of the little house on Trinity Avenue where he moved after retiring from farming. His eyes are bright and his handshake is strong and the only concession to his 92 years seems to be his poor hearing.

He says doesn't feel preyed upon. He feels lucky. He feels proud to be part of a change he thinks is inevitable.

"It's better than a nuclear plant," Ed Yancey says. "And it brings in good money."

Next to him, daughter Virginia Yancey Lyndaker, a real estate agent who infuriated her brothers by siding with her father, nods in agreement. You can't stop progress, she says.

Ben Byer, a 75-year-old retired dairy farmer, feels the same way. Like Ed Yancey, Byer felt lucky when the wind salesmen knocked at his door. He was one of the first to sign up.

Now he can count 22 windmills from his Rector Road home. Seven are on his land.

"The sound don't bother me," he says. "And it sure beats milking cows."

But Byer, who is John Yancey's uncle, understands the lingering resentments the windmills fuel. The wind company signed lease agreements with just 74 landowners over a 12-mile stretch and "good neighbor" agreements with several dozen more, offering $500 to $1,000 for the inconvenience of living close to the turbines. In a small community, that kind of money can cause tensions between those who profit and those who don't.

Byer also understands the strain windmills can place on a family. His 47-year-old son, Rick, lives higher up on the plateau in a small white ranch house with a two-seat glider parked in a shed. The glider is Rick Byer's passion. He flies on weekends when he's not working at the pallet-making company.

In order to launch, the glider has to be towed by truck down a long rolling meadow across the road. When the wind company began negotiating with his father to put turbines on his "runway," Rick Byer delivered a furious ultimatum.

"I told him if he allowed turbines in that field he would lose a son."

The son's rage won out over the father's desire for easy cash, but Rick Byer still seethes at the forest of turbines that sprouted across from his home. Now he speaks out in other area towns where windmills are proposed.

"I tell people it's not a wind farm, it's an industrial development," he says as he mends wooden pallets in a barn one warm summer night. Rock music crackles from a radio propped crookedly on a pile of wood. Every now and then, Byer adjusts the set for a better reception. The windmills interfere with the signal, he says. They interfere with television too.

And they transform the night. As dusk falls, red strobe lights appear on every third windmill, glowing eerily atop the blades spinning ghostlike in the moonlight.

---

Like most of their neighbors, the Yanceys and Byers had a hard time believing the wind salesman when he first rolled into town in 1999. Years earlier there had been talk of natural gas on Tug Hill, but nothing ever came of it. People assumed the wind project would go the same way.

"No one thought it would happen," John Yancey says.

But Bill Moore, a Maryland-based energy consultant and investor who worked on Wall Street before going out on his own, was persistent. And persuasive. For several years he drove all over Tug Hill in his Land Rover, knocking on doors, talking to farmers in fields, hosting meetings at the Elks Lodge, preaching the gospel of wind.

At first local officials were skeptical, too. But they listened, and learned, and they started hammering out agreements with Moore's company, Atlantic Renewable Corp., and its partner company, Zilka Renewable Engergy. (The companies have changed names and ownership several times and the Maple Ridge Wind project is now jointly owned by PPM Energy of Portland, Ore., which is part of the Spanish company Iberdrola SA, and Houston-based Horizon Wind Energy LLC, which is owned by the Portuguese conglomerate Energias de Portugal.)

Eventually officials from Lowville, Martinsburg and Harrisburg, along with Lewis County legislators, negotiated a 15-year payment-in-lieu-of-taxes agreement that gave the three jurisdictions $8.1 million in the first year.

"We knew we were going to change the landscape, maybe forever," says Martinsburg supervisor Terry Thiesse. "We knew some people would be unhappy. But the benefits far outweighed the objections of a few."

Martinsburg, with a population of 1,249, got the biggest municipal cut because it hosts the largest number of windmills _ a total of 102. Thiesse, who receives payments for a windmill on his own land, says Martinsburg's budget went from just under $400,000 to more than $1.2 million with the first wind payment in 2006. The municipality is currently negotiating a deal with another wind company for an additional 39 turbines.

In Lowville, school Superintendent Ken McAuliffe is thrilled to be buying new computers, expanding school buildings and planning new athletic fields. The school district, which serves all jurisdictions, received $2.8 million in 2006 and $3.5 million in 2007.

Still, McAuliffe said, negotiating the deal was the most demanding experience of his professional life.

"I'm an educator, not a wind expert or an investor," McAuliffe said. The hardest part, he said, was understanding the amounts of money involved, trusting that the community would get it, and "the great unknown, which is how much the wind company is making."

Wind finances are a source of great confusion for many locals, who assumed they would get free electricity once the turbines were installed. In fact, the energy is sold to utility companies and then piped into the grid.

Though the wind itself is free, companies have enormous startup costs: a single industrial wind turbine costs about $3 million. In New York, companies benefit from the fact that the state requires 25 percent of all electricity to be supplied from renewable sources by 2013. They also get federal production tax credits in addition to "green" renewable energy credits, which can be sold in the energy market.

In this context, the annual payments of about $6,600 per turbine are relatively small. But for some cash-strapped farmers, they amount to a retirement supplement.

"It's the best cash cow we ever had," booms retired dairy farmer Bill Burke, who has six turbines on his land. "This cow doesn't need to be fed, doesn't need a vet, doesn't need a place to lie down."

Burke, a blustery 60-year-old, is proud of his credentials as the wind company's biggest local cheerleader. A school board member and county legislator, he also works part-time for the company, giving lectures and tours. His son, Bobby, works for it full-time.

Burke sold the last of his herd in 2004. Without the income from the turbines, he says, he might have had to sell his 100-year-old farm too. He has no regrets about grabbing his "once in a lifetime chance at prosperity."

"This project was happening, like it or not, and you would have to be a fool not to participate, to be excited and take advantage of it," Burke says.

---

Not everyone agrees.

For many, the realities of living with windmills are more complicated than clean energy and easy money. People have mixed feelings about the enormous scale of the project and the speed at which it went up. They question what will happen when the 15-year agreements expire. There are concerns about the impact of turbines on bird and bat populations. Some accuse lawmakers of getting too cozy with wind developers in order to profit from turbines on their land _ allegations that prompted New York Attorney General Andrew Cuomo to launch an investigation into two wind companies and their dealings with upstate municipalities. (The investigation does not involve Maple Ridge.)

Such concerns have ignited furious debates in upstate towns where more than a dozen wind power projects are being considered _ in Cape Vincent, Clayton,

Prattsburgh. Some towns passed moratoria on industrial turbines in order to learn more. Malone and Brandon recently banned them completely.

"It seemed like the cost, in terms of how it changed the community, was too high," Malone supervisor Howard Maneely, said after visiting Lowville.

Pat Leviker, 60, who grew up on Tug Hill, thinks so too. Leviker cried the day the first turbine went up, "like a giant praying mantis peering at my home."

Now she and her husband Richard, who both work for the state Department of Environmental Conservation, plan to sell their home and move off the plateau when they retire.

"We want clean energy as much as anyone," says Leviker, who rejected a $1,500 payment from the wind company for the disruption of her view. "But we also want quality of life."

Over on Nefsey Road, which runs parallel to Yancey Road, Dawn Sweredoski, a sixth-grade teacher, finds a certain beauty in the windmills.

But she is sympathetic to her neighbors' concerns. The Amish farmer across the road, who bought her husband's farm seven years ago, rejected the wind company's offer of two turbines. He hates how the towers have changed the scenery and disrupted the sense of tradition and tranquility that lured his family from Maryland in the first place.

Sweredoski, whose house has magnificent views of the valley, sees the windmills only in the distance. She understands John Yancey's annoyance at living with them up close.

"It's hard when change is for the common good but some people suffer more than others," she says.

No one understands that better than the Yanceys, struggling to patch fractured family relationships, even as they struggle to come to terms with the turbines.

High on Tug Hill sits the Flat Rock Inn, a popular gathering point for snowmobilers and all-terrain vehicle riders. Twenty years ago, Gordon Yancey carved out this chunk of land with the help of his father, creating miles of forest trails and camping areas, set around a six-acre, man-made pond.

"People come for the scenery, the serenity," says Yancey, 49, proudly driving through his property, describing the "jungle" that he and his father cleared.

He rolls to a halt in front of the inn, a rustic wooden structure with a bar, restaurant, a few rooms and a large wraparound porch.

All around stretch windmills, miles and miles of them. Yancey chokes up just looking at them. They have hurt his business, he says. And, like his brother, he hates the view and the noise.

"Dad taught us such respect for the land. For my father to be part of this..." His voice trails off and he shakes his head and walks away, too angry to continue.

This particular weekend is a busy one for Yancey's inn, which is hosting a huge watercross event _ in which snowmobiles roar across the pond, their speed keeping them from sinking. Campers roll in to watch. There are campfires and barbecues and squealing children darting about. The atmosphere is festive and carefree and very noisy as racers' engines scream and a helicopter whirs overhead giving 10-minute joyrides for $25.

In the distance, Rick Byer's glider floats above the turbines. On the ground John Yancey works an enormous homemade gas grill turning 50 sizzling chickens on spits. Gordon Yancey is down by the pond, bellowing race results through a loudspeaker. Another brother, Tim Yancey, wanders by with his girlfriend, anti-wind activist Anne Britton. Patriarch Ed Yancey is there too, cooling off in a storage shed near the grill, talking about the old days _ before snowmobiles and turbines.

All around the windmills spin. John Yancey looks up from the grill occasionally and grimaces at them. Right now, no one else seems to care.

So are wind turbines the unlimited good being sold to us?

historical sidebar

Mistrial in Tenn. student's Confederate flag suit

The flag is considered a symbol of racism and intolerance by some, while others, like DeFoe, consider it an emblem of their Southern heritage.

School officials said they worried that displaying the banner would lead to racial tensions and violence at Anderson County High, which has had problems before, and at nearby Clinton High School, which was bombed two years after becoming the first public school desegregated by court order in the Old South in 1956.

DeFoe's lawyers countered there was no evidence that racial problems resulted directly from the apparel. They also criticized the dress code for being a blanket policy that left no discretion to school principals.

DeFoe attended the high school at a time when just one out of 1,160 students was black and then went to an all-white county vocational school. By the time he finished vocational school last fall, he had been suspended more than 40 times for wearing Confederate flag apparel. He sued the school system in 2006.

Anderson County High Principal Greg Deal said he backs the dress code even if there was only one black student who might be offended.

"My feeling is, it doesn't matter how many kids I have in the school. I have the right to make sure that none of them come to school under fear of intimidation," Deal said.

DeFoe's attorney Van Irion said other, similar cases in the past have typically not gone to juries but instead were dismissed by judges or settled out of court.
"The fact that we have gotten this far and the fact that we came so close to a victory ... should send a message to all school boards in the country that if you are banning things based on the fact that it is offensive, that violates the Constitution," he said.

The panel was all white, though that was not the result of a selection strategy by either side. No blacks were in the small group of randomly selected people from which the panel was selected, a reflection of the significant white majority in East Tennessee.

Copyright 2008 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Anderson County contains the Oak Ridge TN "townsite" which was desegregated after WWII. During the war all blacks were housed in their own valley - Gamble Valley. When ORNL was built, there were separate restrooms for white and black. I had an office in one of the former black restrooms.

Part of the city of OR is also in Roane County.

Oak Ridge is where most of the scientists working at X-10 (Oak Ridge National Laboratory), K-25 (formerly the Oak Ridge Gaseous Diffusion plant) and Y-12 (you want it - they can make it) live.

Clinton is the county seat. The former name of OR was "the Clinton Works".

When the high school was desegrated, some "good ole boys" went to the general store in nearby Oliver Springs. Being one of the local industries was mining, they stocked and sold at that time dynamite. The "gob"s bought some and blew up Clinton High School.

giggle

I recall a time when my son was about 18 months old. I had him strapped into a backpack and was rushing to catch the bus. Apparently I mis-stepped and fell down an entire flight of stairs (13 to be exact). I was bruised and bleeding and had torn my jeans ... but my main concern was, naturally, for my child. My fears were alleviated, though, when from behind me I heard a gleeful giggle followed by, "Again!" - Thomas Ellsworth

Sounds like one of my granddaughters.

I'm not saying there should be a capital punishment for stupidity, but why don't we just take the safety labels off of everything and let the problem solve itself? - Email Signature Line q.Randy Howard

Hear! hear!

The primary cause of failure in electrical appliances is an expired warranty. Often, you can get an appliance running again simply by changing the warranty expiration date with a 15/64-inch felt-tipped marker. - Dave Barry The Taming of the Screw

the grandpup report

After several months of pain and physical therapy, I had an MRI. Doc says I have slipped disk between "second and third bones".

I am having an untrasound on my gall bladder, an upper GI and a CT scan eary next week to find source of other mysterious pain.

When all results are in, meds will be adjusted.

pray for me

blow it out your ....

Scientists in Argentina say methane holds in 23 times more heat than carbon dioxide, and is a neglected culprit in global warming. To try to quantify how much the country's 55 million head of cattle contribute to the problem, the researchers have mounted fart collection tanks on the backs of cows to measure the gas they emit (no, really!). Early results from the Argentine National Institute of Agricultural Technology and the Argentine National Council of Scientific and Technical Investigations show that the average cow blows out 800 to 1,000 liters of the flammable gas per day, and that feeding them clover and alfalfa instead of grain reduces emissions by about 25 percent. (London Telegraph)

cowabunga

prayer for those who are serving in ministries or are on mission for You

There are many involved in every ministry and mission—some who go and some who serve locally. There are often those behind the scenes who help with planning, financial support, and prayer, as I'm praying now. We're all part of their service, directly or indirectly, and I'm sure none of us feels worthy to be used in such a way. Yet this is one of the good works You've prepared for us to do, and we're grateful. (Eph 2:10)

Help us to live worthy of such a calling; keep our hearts prepared for the amazing things You plan to do. Give us pure hearts, sensitive to sin and willing to confess everything You bring to mind, knowing You are quick to forgive. Forgive us when we sin without being aware, and keep us from sinning willfully. Help us not to let any sin rule over us. (Eph 4:1; Jos 3:5; Ps 51:10; 1Jn 1:9; Ps 19:12–13a; Rom 6:11)

Protect our time with You. Don't let busyness keep us from prayer or being in the Word daily. Help us to live according to Your Word and not neglect it. (Mt 6:6; Jn 17:17; Ps 119:9,16)

In Jesus' name, amen.

- Jim & Kaye Johns _Prayers for the Moment_(B&H Publishing Group)

boys will be boys

from tweeter

Sounds fake but just might be true.

My children, the little darlings.... last night they were being so sweet and precious to each other. They were playing in the living room under mine and David's feet for a really long time. Christian would go up and kiss Daniel, Daniel would leave his mouth open and just laugh hysterically when Christian kissed him. Daniel would, in turn try to give Christian a big slobbery kiss on the mouth. It was just one of those really sweet baby moments that I'll remember for years to come - too bad the memory has been tainted.

The boys' playroom door had been left open all day and I guess after a while of playing in the living room Christian decided he was ready to go play with all of his other toys in the playroom. So, my beautiful little boy ran back to his playroom. He wanted to close the door but he kept peeking out saying "Danuu, Danuu!!" (Daniel) and Daniel started crawling back to the playroom. This playroom has just been such an awesome thing to have in our home: it is completely 100% baby proofed - it's full of toys sitting on shelves just ready to be played with, it has a "reading" corner where Christian can sit in his little rocking chair and has been often times spotted reading "Danuu" lots of fun stories. Daniel is finally at the age (almost 9 months) where he can play with Christian. They laugh together and share toys and just have a good ol' time in that room. We usually leave the door open so they can come out whenever they want and we can listen out for them and check in on them. There is literally no way that either one of these boys can get hurt in this room. So last night when Christian called Daniel back there and then shut the door immediately after Daniel crawled his little fanny in the room we were thinking "Ok, well whatever... they will play together and have fun. There's no way either one of them can get hurt." I told David that I would just go check on them in 5 minutes. So... 5 minutes passes and I get up from the couch to go check on them and Oh... OH OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Let's just say - the two factors that we had NOT considered when we saw Christian closing the door so that him and Daniel can have their own "private" play party were these:

1. Christian is notorious for taking his pants and diaper off and pooping everywhere.
2. Daniel eats everything.

You probably know where I'm going with story by now...

Let me just say this: Christian has not taken his diaper off in about 3 weeks and he waits until last night to do it? As far as I was concerned Christian was over that phase and moving on to be more of a "big boy" who didn't play in his poop or mess with his diaper. We did not have him in a onesie while he was playing in the room. He had just gotten back from Wednesday night church with David so he was just in jeans and a T-shirt.

So... I was hit by the smell of poop the instant I opened the door... I looked at Christian - no pants... no diaper and I smell poop! Then I look at Daniel - he's eating chocolate? No... there's no chocolate in the room, ladies - Daniel is eating Christian's poop. He's got a mouth full - and two fist fulls and it's all over his face. At this point I'm screaming "I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!!!" I feel that since I "neglected" my children for 5 minutes so they could play alone and this incident happened that I should be immediately reported to the police or CPS. My baby... my BABY is eating poop.

I picked Daniel up and ran to the bedroom to change his clothes and get the poop out of his mouth, I cleaned his hands off with a baby wipe so he couldn't put anymore in his mouth. David ran bathwater for Daniel and I plunked him down in there. I must have bathed that child for 1/2 an hour before I felt he was "clean enough" to come out. I brushed his teeth (he has one tooth) for the FIRST time mind you - what a story - just to make sure there were no lingering bacteria in his mouth. I fed him some applesauce to get the yucky taste out and finally put him to bed with a full bottle.

I felt soo... soooo sooo SOOO awful and I still do. I told David that we could never tell anyone this story - not anyone in our family, no friends and definitely not the boys - EVER!

David said he was going to tell everybody but I'm going to be so pissed if he does - this story makes me out to be like the most horrible mother ever. I left my children alone for 5 minutes to play - innocent enough right? NO! I feel like I should be locked up, I even considered calling the poison control center to see if Daniel's stomach needed to be pumped - David said I was over-reacting.

UGhh.. how frightening. Just a word of advice to Dawne, Nicole, Tracy, and anyone else who has a toddler and an infant - DO NOT - I REPEAT - DO NOT LEAVE YOUR TODDLER ALONE WITH YOUR INFANT AT ANY TIME!!!!! EVEN IF YOUR INFANT IS 9-12 MONTHS - THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS!!!!

dam big problem

Tennessee's sinking data center gets help

the story of my life

I'm prepared for all emergencies but totally unprepared for everyday life.

when life gives you lemons, redefine lemons

Nobel Peace Prize winner Archbishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa explains the history of white settlement of his country like this: When the white man came, we had the land and he had the Bible. He said, "Let us pray," so we all bowed our heads, closed our eyes, and prayed. And when we opened our eyes, lo and behold, we had the Bible and he had the land. But you know, we got the best deal! - Colin Lewis

for Tweeter and Brandy

As newlyweds, my wife and I hosted a family get-together at our apartment, which had a large grassy field and superb children's playground next door. My wife organized games outdoors for our eight nieces and nephews, and the laughter and activity drew other children, until about thirty kids were playing and clamoring for my wife's attention. After three hours, she called it quits.

The next morning while we were getting ready for work, two boys knocked on our patio door and asked if our children could come out and play. I told them we had no children; our nieces and nephews had just been visiting. Looking momentarily dejected, they brightened considerably as they asked, "Well, then, can your wife come out and play?" - Becky Day

for Tom and Kathy - things to do in retirement

Working people frequently ask retired people what they do to make their days interesting. Well, for example, the other day the wife and I went into town and went into a shop. We were only in there for about 5 minutes. When we came out, there was a cop writing out a parking ticket. We went up to him and I said, 'Come on man, how about giving a senior citizen a break?' He ignored us and continued writing the ticket. I called him a Dummkopf. He glared at me and started writing another ticket for having worn tires. So Mary called him a dumbbell. He finished the second ticket and put it on the windshield with the first. Then he started writing a third ticket. This went on for about 20 minutes. The more we abused him, the more tickets he wrote. Personally, we didn't care. We came into town by bus. We try to have a little fun each day now that we're retired. It's important at our age. - q.Jim Berry (with some editing by the functional illiterate as Jim has previously referred to tftd)

Farewell to Iraq

2008Jun25

This is my last night in Baghdad, Iraq. With any degree of luck I will be in Kuwait tomorrow night starting the long ride home. After a day in Kuwait I go to Ft. Benning to begin the process of retiring from the Army for a second time. There will not be a third since I have passed the age limitation. This will be the last of a series of very erratic newsletters.

I am physically and emotionally tired. However, it has been one of the great privileges of my life to serve here in Iraq. I remain in awe of the many talented, brave Americans warfighters striving to bring peace to this country. In my heart I am very proud to be both a Vietnam and Iraqi Freedom veteran. My only regret is that Kathleen will still be over here for a few months. We talk as much as possible on the phone and our conversations have been a source of great comfort to me.

I am lucky. I will do just one tour. Most of the folks I met here are on their second and third tour. The Civil Affairs Reserve Units only get about 9 months off between tours. What is printed in the press and voiced by our political and military leadership are actually two different things over here. Pat has the Houston Chronicle sent to me daily and the stories I read in the papers are completely alien to me.

I know I have mentioned this before but this is the first war that women are actually warfighters. Over 10% of deployed soldiers are women. I am still not an advocate of women in combat (even though my daughter is proving me wrong); I continue to admire the courage, stamina and attitude of these female soldiers. I can tell how old I am since I still consider females in a combat environment an anomaly but the young soldiers consider it normal. I have a daily battle with two teen age female Airmen that provide security over the IZ. They smoke and I admonish them. They then remind me that I smoke cigars at night. They know I am keeping an eye on them and after each rocket attack I wander down to their trailer to make sure everything is ok.

I had my best day in Iraq a few weeks ago. I went to the Zoo with a platoon of warfighters. It was like a sea of calm in the midst of war and tragedy. My security guys were tense since there was gunfire on the street outside the Zoo. But, the Zoo was full of kids playing, laughing and waving to us. Believe it or not there are over 270 animals in the Zoo including lions the size of Volkswagens who were fed live humans by Saddam’s sons. It was another terribly hot, dusty day but the children and families were wandering through the Zoo like any Zoo in the US. I visited the facility which will house my tigers and dreamed of the day they would be there (More on that later). Of course, we were all in the seventy pounds of body armor which put a damper on the day but I still loved it. It was a day I will always remember. I am still humming the Zoo song by Peter, Paul and Mary.

On Monday of this week I did my final mission into the Red Zone. It also probably was my last helicopter ride. I decided to do this mission several weeks ago since I knew it would be my last and I wanted it to be something special.

I started preparing the night before by soaking the neck coolers my cousin, Sandy, made for me. They are a god send when the temperature approaches 120 degrees. In the morning we took a helicopter to a Forward Operating Base and then took gun trucks to a local market on the edge of Sadr City. I was intensely interested in the market and the environment now with things seeming to settle down. Open air markets are the equivalent of Kroger and grocery stores over here. Well my first notable achievement was falling down a flight of stairs at the FOB. However with all that body armor on the only thing bruised was my self-esteem.

The market was bustling with activity and business appeared to be thriving. We talked to a number of people, constantly surrounded by kids who wanted to shake out hands and or get their picture taken. We have to be very careful in these settings as the insurgents target those who talk to Americans and we are very sensitive to those who do not wish to talk to us or even be seen with us. As we were finishing we got a call that a MP unit was under attack. The warfighters tensed with excitement and off we went. By the time we got there the firing had considerably diminished, much to the dismay of my security element and my team. Once we arrived on the scene the outnumbered insurgents quickly left the area except for two who were captured and brought back to the FOB.

The last time I saw these two they were drinking a Coke and given MREs to eat which gives you an indication of regardless what the press says our warfighters treat detainees with respect. We then caught a helicopter back to the IZ. When the pilot and crew chief found out that it was my last mission they let me be the door gunner on the ride home. Thank God nobody fired at us and I fired at no one but what a thrill to be riding in a helicopter across Baghdad at an elevation of 50 feet with the only thing holding you in the helicopter is a seat belt. Once I took off my body armor every stitch of clothes on my body was soaked in sweat.

My time here ends on a very sad note. Two friends of mine were killed in Sadr City on Tuesday. One was a young Major who played football at Rutgers and was a New Jersey State Trooper. He was a huge African American and we often joked that we had the same last name so we must be related. He leaves behind a wife and a 9 year old son of whom he was very proud. We did a lot of work together in Abu Ghraib. The other was a DOD civilian who had previously served over here as a Colonel. We only had dinner together last Sunday and he talked exclusively of his sons. I cannot express my grief. I was in the building last week where they were killed.

I spent most of the rest of the day running around Baghdad streets in an SUV trying to help the numerous Iraqi wounded. Totally against regulations since I had only my interpreter and a shotgun but we got the three Iraqis who have worked with us in hospitals and when I left they were all in surgery.

Last night we paid final homage to these brave Americans. The Angel Flight came in around 3 AM and over 100 soldiers and civilians saluted as the remains started their long ride home. We waited for over three hours for the helicopter and not one person complained or left. I do not think I ever stood at attention and saluted with such correctness in all my years in the Army. A terribly sad way to end a tour. I am not fooling when I say the best of the best are representing you over here.

The other day at the required medical out brief with the Army psychiatrist I was asked what my biggest takeaway will be from my Iraq experience. Without a doubt, it is that I am much more confident in the future of America as a result of having served here. Sometimes when thinking about the many challenges that our nation will face in the coming decades I used to worry that we were no longer the same people who defeated fascism and communism in the last century. After witnessing the character and valor on display here, I have no doubt that we are.
Whatever your thoughts on America’s involvement in Iraq, if you want to be part of the solution, I strongly encourage you to never forget the brave American soldiers, sailors, airman, and Marines who are serving in a difficult and dangerous environment.
Often times as I watch medivac helicopters flying to the CSH I wonder “is this worth it?” and I think about the 770 Americans who have been killed while I’ve been in Iraq and the likely 500 more who will be killed during the next year. I hope that their families know that they have made the ultimate sacrifice not in vain but for the cause of freedom throughout the world.

As some of you know by the news reports, the Green Zone (IZ) has become the most dangerous place in Iraq. The rockets started in salvos on Easter Sunday and have continued intermittently ever since. Somedays we will get just several and other days we will get 20 to 30. I have seen film from our drones indicating that we have killed hundreds of these guys but the rockets never seem to stop. They are firing from school yards and parks which make it difficult to get them. We have had several US KIAs including one in the PRT.

One Sunday several weeks ago in the middle of a terrible dust storm (the preferred time for rockets) I was sitting in my trailer when a rocket hit just outside. I was reading a book when shrapnel created several holes in my abode. I was required to go to the hospital simply because of the nearness of the overblast. I was perfectly fine but in the middle of this dust storm I simply had it with all of this. As rockets were pounding the IZ I walked to the PX, bought a box of Oreos, and ate the whole box while KBR patched up my trailer. I felt much better.

In the past several months I have spent considerable time in the countryside with the warfighters. I was working on resurrecting the poultry industry south of Iraq and stayed several nights in these extremely small security stations that Petraeus inaugurated. He has moved the warfighters out of big bases into small outposts (JSS) so that they can be close to the people. It is a great idea and I am a big fan of General Petraeus. ( I also like Odierno who has become a personal friend. He thinks it is cool that an old Vietnam veteran is here.) But the conditions in the JSSs are miserable. I slept on a dirt floor and ate MREs. I only had to do this for several days but the warfighters stay out there for weeks with no hot meals or showers. Obviously ingenious young Americans find a way to make life hospitable. They are wizards when it comes to PC games.

I set very low expectations for myself when I came over here. First, I wanted to better the life of one Iraqi and one American. Thankfully, I have done both. Many Iraqis have touched my life but there is one very old Sheik that I will always remember. He is the head of a very large tribe south of Baghdad. An American warfighter shot him in the eye several years ago and his favorite 5 year old grandson was kidnapped and killed by Al Qaeda. After a very long day of bickering by Iraqis of his tribe he stood up and unequivocally stated that all Iraqis have to support the Americans who came to Iraq to help. After the meeting a young Army Captain said he has been trying to get an American eye doctor to examine the Sheik about his eye but had been repulsed by higher command. He asked if I could get the Sheik to the IZ hospital to see an American eye doctor.

Well, I eat breakfast nearly every morning that I am in the IZ with a wonderful young lady who is getting married in August (She met her future husband through eHarmony. I guess that works.). She is an optometrist. Iraqis must have approval from a Major General to access American hospitals. The Doctor and I said the hell with regulations and got the Sheik an eye examination. Nothing could be done about the eye but he did get a new pair of glasses and the old guy cried thanking and hugging me and the Doctor.

Another story is a family that was killed by insurgents with the exception of a young boy whose spine was severed His Uncle wanted to see the boy but could not get into the hospital because he was not immediate family. I was approached to help because of my connections with the hospital and my rank. I got the Uncle in to see the boy and he died in the Uncle’s arms. I obviously was there because I had to accompany the Uncle at all times. In his grief, he profusely thanked me and later assisted us in defeating the insurgent rocket attacks during the IZ Easter siege. Getting access to the hospital only cost me a box of chocolates which Pat sent me.

Only last week I had the opportunity to help a young warfighter. It was a terribly hot dusty day (seems I constantly repeat this refrain but no words can describe being in a duststorm in Iraq- I was supposed to go to Sadr City that day but no helicopters were flying) and this soldier was stranded in the IZ. He was an EOD specialist which means he has a life span of several hours. These are the guys who defuse the IEDS and EPFs found on the road. He had waited all day for a helicopter only to be told all flights were cancelled for the night. He was stranded and lost. He had no idea where he was, where to eat and where to spend the night. I noticed his completely dejected look and asked if he needed any help. In several hours, I found him a place to spend the night, I made sure he got a great hot meal, and I left in a makeshift movie theater in the Embassy watching “Ironman.” I asked him where he was from and he replied “California but do not worry I am not a liberal.” My hope is that somebody will do the same if one of my kids is stranded someplace. Assisting that young warfighter erased my dejection at not being able to fly that day. He did more for me that I did for him. Helping him was the greatest Father’s Day Present I could receive.

I have maintained my journal the entire year. It encompasses several hundred pages. I really do not know what to do with it. It may make good reading for my grandchildren some day. Right now I am too tired to think about putting it in a book even though many over here have encouraged me.

I also have become somewhat an authority on Abu Ghraib. Not the prison which I have not yet seen but a large agricultural area west of Baghdad. I started a Farmer’s Co-op in the region and taught Iraqis the value of greenhouses. I have absolutely no agricultural background but over the past year I have I held my own, thanks to Amazon.com.

Iraqis are a sharp people. I interface with them just like I was talking to Americans and those that know me are aware how blunt I can be. Well, on a terribly dusty day, I was in a Sheik’s house talking about the insurgents and other items. I felt that this Iraqi was not being truthful. I told him that since we could not reach an accord I was spending the night at his house. He turned grey (the warfighters were shocked) and suddenly the whole course of the discussion changed. As I was leaving with my 20 faithful warfighters protecting me, I laughed and said that I would only stay if he furnished me with 4 virgins so I could stay warm at night. He nearly died of both relief and laughter. In fact, the 30 others in the room had tears in their eyes from laughter. Now he is a great friend who wishes that I was not leaving. The one who is probably laughing the most at this paragraph is my dear wife.

I have become acquainted with an Iraqi General who is ruthless but seems to like me. Whenever he goes overboard I am called to visit and calm him down. I have no doubt that he is responsible for a number of deaths in this country but this is Iraq where common sense in non-existent. We smoke cigars and our conversations are somewhat crude and ribald but what happens in Iraq stays in Iraq. I think he (like most Iraqis) has a great respect for age and that is the basis of our friendship.

I am also involved in developing a national literacy program. Over 40% of the Iraqi population is illiterate. One Iraqi told me that if we had concentrated on literacy when we got here 5 years ago we would be gone by now.

One of my favorite projects is bringing two tigers from San Diego to the Baghdad Zoo. Every time I turned around there was some objection. When I convinced an animal rights group in North Carolina that in spite of the proximity to the IZ, the Zoo had not been hit with any rockets, they relented. They will not get here until I go home, but I envision a trip back some day with Pat and Marcus to see my tigers.

The powers put a lot of pressure on me to get out of the field. They wanted me to work at the Embassy my last few weeks. They have been trying to keep me out of the field all year but they never succeeded. I did not come here to hide in a building but attempt to figure this out and learn a new culture. Even the Ambassador called when I ended up at the hospital after the rocket blast. I think they think I am too old. I, of course, am paying no attention to them. In fact, I have submitted paperwork for Ranger School just to bring havoc to the system.

My greatest strength is my family. Tim has been a tremendous help to Pat and is doing great at his job. It took me twenty years to make what his is now making. Not bad for a guy who never reads a book. Tim is a unique character who always finds the best in every situation. I also wonder why he is waiting for me to get home to help him move. My pleas that I have PTSD after working with the State Department and need to rest seem to be falling on deaf ears at home.

Kathleen is a warfighter here in Iraq. She has had a hard time growing up. I have visited her several times and somebody described her as half infantry and half medic. She appears to have found a home in the Army. She loves her work and is widely admired in her unit. She called me just about everyday until her unit moved north and she is based in a small outpost devoid of internet or cell phone. We laughed about the fact that Pat will have no idea what we are talking about when we get home since the Army has a unique language full of abbreviations. Now if we can just get her home in November safe and sound.

And then there is Marcus. He starts kindergarten and is tremendously spoiled. Who cares.

I have a few words about our policy. I have not changed my basic attitude about the war. We should have not come here in the first place and we sure screwed it up once we got here. Presently the State Department and military have no concerted policy. It is simply a mess. However, our best ambassadors are our young warfighters. One day they are shot at or blown up by an IED and the next day they are walking down the same streets giving high fives to the kids, talking to old people, buying stuff from the shops. Each one of them is a credit to our country. I bend down to talk to a child and they not only know the child’s name but also give me a hand getting back up. I am truly humbled to be in their presence. They are ambivalent about U.S. policy but are aware of U.S. sentiment toward them. They are grateful that the country is not treating them like Vietnam veterans were treated. They are truly America’s finest.

I would be terribly remiss and if I did not talk about my wonderful wife of 34 years. Even though she thinks I am crazy she has stayed around. I cannot say enough about her support, counsel, and friendship. She has two of us over here and lives in dread of a car pulling up the driveway. I am not promising anything but I need to think about staying at home and forgoing these ventures in the future. (However, if the Army called again…). The unsung heroes of this war are the wives and mothers who are warfighters themselves. In their own way, they represent the very best this country has to offer.

So I end up with a handful of additional medals that I cannot wear because I do not own any uniform but what I wear over here. I am not one to join Veteran’s organizations and parade around town on Veteran’s day. I do not resent those that do it is just not my style. I attended a meeting once of Vietnam Veterans and felt out of place as if they were refighting the war that ended forty years ago. But I think I will get an Iraqi Freedom License plate just for the hell of it.

By the way, there was a lottery amongst my so-called friends that I would not make the whole year. Over half the guys that came over with me did not make it for one reason or another. They either gave up and went home, or their bodies could not take the body armor, or psychologically they could not handle the stress and the primitive living conditions or their replacements showed up early. Well, I guess I showed them. I not only lasted the whole year but also I am also one of the last to leave from my group. I was moved several weeks ago when a friend e-mailed me to take it easy my last several weeks. It said my being here was an inspiration to many that I did not even know. He said that every time I put on my IBA these last several weeks a large number of people held their breath until I got back. Kinder words were never spoken to me and they are worth all the medals in the world. I also loved going out on missions. I have seen Baghdad change from a city wrought with fear to a thriving bustling city rivaling anything in the states.

I have a unique ritual after each mission. I call all the warfighters together and thank them for getting us back safely. I then shake hands with each soldier and then tell them that they are special. I figure that is why warfighters who I do not even know are always saying hello.

General Hammond of the 4th ID has even started calling me, Doctor. He figures if I can last a year over here at me age finishing my degree will be simple. The day I first met him he was rude and crude. Then he saw the Vietnam Patch and his demeanor totally changed. He took off his 4thI D Patch and put it on me. He stated that he was proud to serve in the Army with me and that I was now one of his soldiers.

So I leave after what is truly a unique experience. The folks at the Pentagon even called this year to tell me that I should not be here. I could have told them that if they ever asked. I truly want and need to go home but I am leaving behind a mission that is not completed and I am no longer a member of the finest organization in the world. Tomorrow as I leave the IZ behind and climb into a C-130 (with a pillow for my butt since it is so uncomfortable) I am sure there will be tears in my eyes as a chapter is closed in my life. I thank the Army, my family and my faithful friends for giving me this last opportunity to serve our country. Whew, what an adventure.

I have this intricate plan and am optimistic about being home before the 4th. Pat, Marcus, and I are then going to Colorado for a few weeks. We are immediately going to Sea World in San Antonio since military get in free. Our schedule is dictated by Marcus starting kindergarten. Then I am going to try to get my life back in balance. However, a though is permeating through my family to bring everyone to Italy in late December. I will agree with this only if we can also visit Normandy. That has always been a goal of mine.

I have always equated my being here with the Confederates at Milledgeville, Ga who mobilized a group of young boys and old men to stop Sherman on his March to the Sea. The Confederacy had already lost the war and the token resistance to Sherman’s troops was futile and only resulted in a needless loss of life. However, the US has not lost this war. We, as a nation, have given our blood and treasure to bring democracy to Iraq. We have done our job now it is up to the Iraqis. Our Army is not trained for occupation and it should not be. That is the role of others in the US government. We are not the Victorian armies of the nineteenth century meant to serve years in distant places. It is time to bring our warfighters home and celebrate their sacrifice. They have performed magnificently in a difficult, dangerous and lonely environment. They have earned our pride and admiration. (As an aside, it is also time to give them a decent GI Bill, which they have earned, so that they may continue to serve our great country. If our esteemed political and military leadership was so concerned about retention they would not rotate these men and women through here like a turnstile for the second, third and fourth time in five years. Geez, I am getting political. I need to save this stuff for the book).

To all of you that have sent stuff, communicated with me (even though my responses back have not been timely) thank you from the bottom of my heart. I have no words to express my gratitude. At the risk of offending somebody, I would like to especially thank my brother Rodney who faithfully called Pat every week.

I will soon be out of work. If there are any jobs for third base coaches on girls’ softball teams please put in a word for me. I am also thinking about being a gymnastics coach. I contacted the women’s basketball coach at A&M about a position but I guess the e-mail did not go through. Of course, the Army could totally screw up and sent me to Ranger School. I guess I will have to reach some sort of decision about who to vote for in the fall. I have only made one political decision thus far. I am going to boycott the opening ceremonies of the Olympics.

Again, thanks to all for your support, encouragement, and prayers

This was written over several weeks and it sure got long and rambling. I apologize. Also excuse any typos. My faithful proofreader is 8000 miles away.

(Colonel) michael ___