Let Us Dispense With Common Sense and Hire Our Buddies!

Hiring your buddies like hiring your family requires no common sense.  All you have to do is get them to fill out the paperwork and give them a paycheck; preferably one that requires no real skills to acquire.

Yes, I know. So what?  Move your toes.

How do you hire the normal, excuse me, a regular employee?  None of us is truly normal and that requires several more blogs.  Onward.

In order to hire someone in a business, first you must have what is commonly referred to as an "Opening" or a "Position."  That generally means that there is a specific task needing to be done and anyone else already employed either does not have the time or the expertise to do that task.

The problem that arises when hiring family is that most people who have the money to do the hiring have inflated views about what their relatives are capable of doing.  They would like to think that their brother-in-law can work in an office and handle financial matters when the facts are, their own finances are a mess (looking for a job - DUH!) and he has never worked in an office nor been in charge of anything.

Or maybe your husband just wants to get you off his back so he hires your brother for a job he is incapable of doing and he works for years at another job with his original title and salary and he has no clue as to why he is making so much money and people keep asking about tasks associated with his "position" and he is unaware of what he was hired to do.  Of course that promotes discontent among the people who are actually doing the job and getting paid nothing for the extra work they do.

Or...  Let's pretend a young, curvaceous woman gets hired for a non-specific job and gets paid a salary $25,000.00 more than the only woman who has been begging for a raise for 2 years.  He swears the old woman to secrecy and tells her not to discuss it with his wife.  The head macho man then tells the old woman to give her something to do.

Like what, she may ask?  My job?  She might ask that, but in all likelihood, she won't.  She will be silent and fume and give her "something" to do.  She will keep her mouth shut and hope curvy woman gains 50 pounds or gets acne or pregnant or anything that makes her lose her waist and become unattractive, even if she is a nice person whose clothes are just way to tight.

If you notice that everyone who has been hired for Upper Management went to the same school, lives in the same cloistered neighborhood or all have the same taste in men, your job may be in jeopardy.  After all, there are only so many "openings" and regardless of whether or not they can do the job, they will be taking yours and there will probably be 3 or 4 men that taking over your duties.  After all you grew with the job and that 20 years should count for something.  And, don't concern yourself with their welfare because each one will be paid more for each part they do and it will be more than you made for doing it all.

Buddies and "friends" or "neighbors" generally have an inflated view of themselves and their talents and are rarely looking for a change in their job or position in life if their current employer is happy with their performance.  They are looking for that welfare job where their frat brother will be betraying an oath of allegiance if they fire them.  Or if they betray them by demoting them, the neighborhood association will black ball them and force them to move.  Worse yet, they won't be invited to the neighborhood cook-outs/parties/barbeques.

If business owners used the same criteria to hire friends, neighbors and buddies that they do total strangers, there would be far fewer of them hired and they would not be making $150,000.00 a year.

Honor Our Military

These times that we live in are perilous.  All we have to do is watch any 24 hour news channel for 5 minutes to see that.

There are those in our society that wish to do away with the United States of America Military.  You do not have to be a political theorist or a great military strategist or a rocket scientist to figure that one out.  Simply watch the politicians and listen closely to what they say.

When they cut the budget indiscriminately and fail to provide the weapons that our soldiers need; when they make it possible for all soldiers, both men and women, to be sexually harassed not only in their bunks but in the combat field as well; when they allow the petitioning of people like the ACLU to do away with the symbols of their religion; it affects all of us.  It affects the military's ability to do their job which in turn takes away our freedom of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Our government has one main obligation and it is NOT to provide welfare benefits to everyone because it has taken away our ability to make a living and provide for our own welfare.  It is NOT to make sure that we are comfortable.  It is NOT to make sure that our wealth is distributed equally across the world or even across the United States of America.

Our government's main obligation is to maintain a military force strong enough, intelligent enough and tough enough to PROTECT us.  It is to provide for the common defense.

I am sick of hearing about how we need to be integrated with the armies of the world.  It is bad enough that the caps changed to berets in order to resemble the United Nations forces.  I am tired of hearing how we must cow-tow to terrorists.  It is with deep frustration that I listen to liberals and conservatives alike who "just want to get along."  I do not want to get along with anyone anymore.  I want us to stand up for what we believe in and cease all of this crap of trying to get along with terrorist nations and sending them birthday greetings for pete's sake.

We have elected people who know nothing of governing.  We have put into power a simpering fool who simply wants to bow down to the animals who want to destroy us in an effort to become communists or socialists or just plain stupid so we are easy to govern, or should I say herd.

My mother taught me that if you do not stand for anything you will fall for everything.  How many actually know what the Constitution of the United States of America actually says?  How many of you know any of the true history of our Founding Fathers?

How many of you know that they pledged everything they had including their lives and their fortunes to make this country possible and we toss it away because it is an inconvenience to rise up off the couch and know anything but what we are fed by talking heads.

The youth spoke in the last election saying that they did in deed want change.  The problem was they believed a politician who did not have anything but his own party agenda in mind.  They did not understand that the government CANNOT make jobs and any attempt to do so is futile.  Look at the French.  Learn a lesson from their fiasco.

There is no substitute for a proper education and it is ignorance that says there is.  A college degree does not necessarily mean that you are educated.  It simply provides a piece of paper that says you passed the requirements to get said piece of paper.  Maybe it says something about that four year commitment, but have you learned anything about how this country should work and what went into bringing about it's existence?

I dare say that too many of you are ashamed of this country and have been brainwashed into believing that the government has a right to redistribute the wealth and do away with any and all religious symbolism in the public square.  When they get rid of it in public, they will have nothing more to do than to work on getting rid of all religious expression in private.  Is that what you want?  Do you truly want the government dictating what you think?

Wake up and realize that this country was worth fighting for and is worth fighting for and the battle is coming ever closer to our borders.  The combatants are already here.  Are you prepared to walk out of your comfort zone and fight for what you believe in?   

Our military is.  Honor them and thank them for their commitment!  Don't be a fool and trash their funerals!   Don't make their job any more difficult than it is.

And for pity's sake read something other than the instructions for your game console.  While you are doing the Wii, someone is out there weeing all over our constitution.

Manure a Plenty Chapter 2

Dude Highpockett was busy examining the product when he saw it.  It had almost escaped his view.  There in the middle of hi product from the Cherry Mill was a flaw.  It had been cleverly hidden in the midst of some mediocre product but closer examination revealed the full extent of the deceit.  There would be no more orders placed by Highpocket Industries and this entire shipment would be returned.

What price was paid for one lone error?  Or was it an error?  The morning the product was built there was no doubt that it was not an error in judgment.

As Mr. Appleblossom reported to work, he noticed the inferior raw material.  As he walked closer, he saw that it had been used to make up a number of the finished products.

The workers had been working by dim lights and had not noticed.  Most of the men on the early shift were new to the Cherry Mill business and were not trained to determine what was acceptable to use.  They relied upon the previous shift to lay out all the raw materials that went into the CM products.

Since Mr. Appleblossom was a man of integrity and the shift foreman, he ordered that the products with the inferior raw material be disassembled and the culls removed.  Mr. Appleblossom knew that Highpockett Industries was a very particular customer and would call this "unacceptable!"

As the workers diligently replaced the culls and reset the stacks, Jackal King walked in the Mill with Jackson Dumbfries the Chief Penny Attache.  Dumbfries noticed immediately that time was being wasted taking the bad raw material out of the finished product.  He became incensed and did his little twisty dance as he jumped and hooped about the Cherry Mill.

Mr. Appleblossom tried to no avail to show Dumbfries that the raw material was faulty and the Highpockett Industries would refuse the order.  But Dumbfries insisted that it would never be noticed and Mr. Appleblossom who had served the Cherry Mills well for more than 25 years was fired on the spot.

Mr. Appleblossom left shaking his head knowing what the consequences would be.  He had served Grand One and Grand Oneson to the best of his ability but the time when fairness, ethics and integrity were part of the business was a time passed.  Cain was taking over and the rules had changed.  It was no longer necessary to do a good job nor give the customer an excellent product.  An okay product would do as long as the customer did not find out.

Mr Highpockett was not just any customer and he would find the flaw and the product would be returned.  There would be no more orders from Highpockett or any of his many companies.

Three Schools in Four Weeks

      I grew up all over the place. At one point in my school days, I was enrolled in 3 schools in one month. That was an interesting time.

      My mother let the kids go to Virginia to visit relatives for the summer. Actually, I am not sure if she really had that much control over what Grandma did.

      Grandma was a drunk in a dress who dipped snuff and put on airs. Mom told me that when I was born, my grandmother doted on me and it all ended when my father took me away with a promise to bring me back. He just didn't say it would be several years later when his next wife grew tired of taking care of a child.

      What I remember about her were the impromptu trips we took and how she would spit her venomous words at me while doting on my younger brother. The trips would start when I was called out of class to go with my Grandmother. My brother and I would crawl into the back seat of that old Plymouth. Grandma would be in the driver's seat with her bottle of wine disguised in the brown now wine bottle shaped paper bag. The top of the bag was wet and clung tightly to the top of the bottle. I could see her can of snuff in her open purse with her white gloves.

      Grandpa didn't drive. He hadn't driven since he lost his eye while working for DuPont in the early 1950's. He called her “Nanny” and they were quite a pair.

      Grandpa bought her wine every week. Everyone in town thought he was the drunk. They didn't know that the properly dressed woman who accompanied him in the car was the real drunk. She wore her little hats and her gloves and her dresses were always ironed. She always had a smile for the public. At home she was mean to me and contrary to everyone but my little brother. She idolized him.

      

      It was years before I knew that my mother would come home to an empty apartment and have no idea where everyone was. This was the time before cell phones and GPS and laws against drunk driving. Mom and her husband would come home from work. The apartment was dark and void of human existence. Then she would call the places in Maryland, Pennsylvania, Virginia and West Virginia where she thought her mother would go.

       I remember Grandma and Grandpa in heated arguments about her driving. Then there was the spitting. Every traffic light or stop sign had a dose of spittle (she would open her door and spit her snuff when she stopped) and after awhile would be the gulps of wine from the “concealed” wine bottle. The thing that was truly amazing is that the few accidents that she was involved in were not her fault and to my knowledge she was never detained and never arrested.

     The arguments that the grand parents had were often times comical. They had 10 children and every now and then it would escalate into something like this:

      “Nanny! Why can't you treat me right?”

      “Shut up, George!”

      “I just don't believe that boy was mine!”

      “That's right, George! His father was a gentleman!” She stood proud and drew the word gentleman out, enunciated clearer than necessary.

     Now, I have no idea if there was any true cause for concern about the parentage of the children, but it was disturbingly funny to listen to. All the children were grown, on their own with children of their own. If you owned them all those years, why bother at that point? What did it matter? I mean, just give it up!

      The year I was enrolled in 3 schools in 30 days started as one of those trips. One of those trips where everyone disappeared while Mom was working, but this would be the last one. Mom had finally had enough. I was 12.

      I wound up at Aunt Oblivious's home. I told her that I was tired of all the fighting and arguments. She contacted my father and they made the arrangements for me to take the train to Tennessee. She never told Mom that I was leaving until Grandma came to pick me up to take me home.

      I did not know at the time, how disturbing it would be to have your child disappear. I was a child only thinking about myself and how happy I would be if things were different. If things were better, I would be happy and Daddy would make it better.

      My father had just moved to Cumberland, Tennessee and it was a 4 bedroom home with 2 bathrooms, woods and lots of land to play on. The formal area was upstairs and I would be living in my own room with my own TV and they had a piano. I wanted to learn to play the piano. The baby grand piano was downstairs where I could learn to play.

     The time to enroll in school came quickly and my father decided that I should learn to be a good Catholic girl. How better to do that than to attend a private Catholic school. I had always gone to public school so having nuns as teachers was discomforting. Mom had told me that when she went to Catholic school, the nuns had been mean to her and hit her with rulers for stupid things like her shoes (which were too big) falling off in class. Right away there was the issue of trust.

      It did not take long for me to be removed from Catholic school. I think I lasted a week. My father's visit to class confirmed my departure.

      The nun asked this question, “If a rosebush talked to you, what would you say to it?”

She called on several others and they answered with what I thought were stupid answers. They said things like,

      “I would ask it how it could talk.”

      “I would say hello.”

      “I don't know” was my response. To me, I thought it would depend on what it said to me and I just wasn't sure that I wanted to talk to a rosebush anyway. Crazy people did things like that.

She asked me the question again and I gave her the same response. She asked me a third time like if I heard it again, I would have a different answer, but nothing changed and my answer remained the same.

     My father took me home early and gave me his “I am disappointed in you” speech with a heavy dose of the “how could you embarrass me” speech thrown in. It ended with the “if you aren't going to co-operate and learn from that fine institution” speech then you will just have to go to dreaded public school.

      It didn't matter to me. I wasn't learning anything at Catholic school except how to sing. What daddy didn't know was I was in accelerated classes back home with Mom. I was already a year ahead of the curriculum.

     Public school was okay and all the neighbor kids went there so at least I had friends. But it just wasn't to be either. I was 2 years ahead of their curriculum but they also had singing. I got good grades but I was bored.

     After 2 weeks, his second wife decided that she couldn't handle me. Her promise to give me piano lessons ended with, “Learn it on your own and I'll see if you're really committed to it and then we will pay for lessons.” My practicing songs for school was met with. “What are you doing? You can't carry a tune in a bucket.” So I didn't practice where she could hear me. I needed braces. I got a tic in my hair. I got bit by a chipmunk I tried to save from the cat. I stepped on a nail while nosing around a house that was under construction. While trying to adjust the spring on a ball point pen the refill shot out, hit the ceiling and left an ink streak about 4 inches long. I was there when two men came to “see” her while my father was gone. I was no longer the cute little girl that she photographed 3 years earlier. I was in between and there was not enough cotton to fill out what she said God had forgotten. I was pre-puberty and I was a kid.

     My father came home from work and they had a raging fight in their underwear and within 24 hours I was on a plane headed to Maryland to live with my mother. I heard them arguing through the walls and the ceiling in my room in the basement. I sneaked upstairs to see what was really going on and I saw them arguing. My father yelled something at me and I went back downstairs.

I should have started packing then, but I waited until I was ordered to pack. His wife told me she would send the rest of my stuff later. My father drove me to the airport with some half baked apology/accusation and that was that.  His wife had me wear a dress that obviously didn't fit my form.  But like she said, "What God has forgotten, we'll fill with cotton."

     When I arrived in Maryland, I was enrolled in Riverheads Junior High School. It was the following summer that I went to the University of Maryland to attend summer classes.

How to Get Even

The best way to get even with someone who has done their level best to destroy you is to "DUCK!!"

Why? Because if you are standing in the way trying to wreak vengeance upon them, you stand in the way of the Lord doing it for you.  If you are a Christian, He will do it much better than you can.  He did say, after all, "Vengeance is Mine..."  He will make sure that it sticks real good and if you have done nothing wrong, He will vindicate you publicly. 

Just remember that those who try to destroy a Christian are only doing the Devil's work and nothing good comes of that in the long run.  Their victory will be hollow and short-lived.

HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!!

DON'T LET THE MUCKRAKERS GET YOU DOWN!!!!!!!!!

Hubris

It is a dreaded disease from which many of us suffer.  Occasional flareups are not uncommon in men between the ages of 15 and 45 inflicting the ones 25 to 45 more insidiously and often the symptoms while obvious to onlookers are undetectable to the one afflicted.  The afflicted one is often so oblivious to the disease that even when symptoms are pointed out, they refuse to acknowledge the problem.

While hubris is not fatal in and of itself, death can occur due to the failure of the afflicted one to notice obvious signs of impending death.

The cure for hubris is one simple item that can be readily obtained but the afflicted one must be able to stoop down.  One of the signs of advanced hubris is a stiff neck and a secondary symptom is an inability to kneel.

The cure is instantaneous if properly consumed.  One large dose of humble pie should be consumed with two doses of repentance.  To make sure that the cure is complete, a heartfelt apology to God Himself is appropriate.

If you suffer with this dread disease, please seek help immediately.  It can have deleterious effects on the victim's family as well as coworkers and friends (if they have any).

The Commitment

There was no denying that they were in it together.  She thought about what had happened and wondered how it had gotten that far.

The diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia was something that would have to be lived with.  There she was.  The knock at her door was an orderly who matter-of-factly ordered her to the dining room.  Her drugged protests went unheeded as he walked to her bedside and proceeded to help her to her feet.

Three steps was all she took.  The floor was cold against her cheek and she just did not want to move. 

"What the Hell had happened?  How did it get this far?"  Her thoughts wandered as she felt the orderlies lift her to the bed.

"Tode ya i cudn make it." and she slipped back into that world that only drugs brought into existence. 

The stelazine and thorazine were potent by themselves, but together they were unstoppable.  The thoughts were still there, but were mushed together like adding chocolate to a white cake mix.  After a while it was all just one milky brown color and there was no way to separate anything.   

The PG Hospital wing was sterile, but it was still a hospital.  Some of it was coming back.  The day she committed herself was still hazy, but it was slowly coming back.  The drugs must have started wearing off.

Dr. C stopped by her room and reminded her that he did what she had requested.  He put her in the hospital and knocked her out.  That was little consolation when her every move had the room spinning and thoughts that were so close slipped into the oblivion of drug-induced haze.

And the question remained far into the next day.  "What the Hell have I done to myself?"

The Journey Begins

At the ripe old age of 23 she felt trapped and all used up.  She had lost her virginity when she was 18.  To say that she was naive and uneducated in that area was an understatement.  She had only been dating for 2 years and they were kids just like she was.  It had been a different time.  Saying, No." to those boys had been easy.  It was not that easy when a man was intent upon taking what was not being offered.  Afterward, she was simply ashamed and did not know what to do so she did nothing.  Everything had always been her fault, so this must have been her fault, too.  She had learned to live with it and did not even know it had a name and that name was rape.

Keeping her mother's husband away had been easy because he was afraid of being caught and she just remembered to keep her bedroom door locked at night.  Now, this new door had been opened and there was no turning back.

She left home 3 months later because she just knew that everyone could tell that she was different.   She had saved $60.00 and packed a suitcase, took a Greyhound bus to the state Capital and tried to make a life.

The Letter

     At 17 she was looking for her father.  Her mother got an occasional child support check from the child's father and it appeared that since he had never relinquished custody that he could send money whenever it suited his needs.  Her mother knew nothing of the lengths that she would use to find her father.
     She found the last child support check laying on the table and wrote down the name and address of the bank.  She then called the bank but got no information from them, not even a promise to let her father know she wanted to contact him.
     Not knowing exactly what to do, she contacted the Sheriff's Department to see if they could tell her something.  It was not that she wanted anything in particular from the man, she just wanted to know that he still loved her and cared what happened.  The letter to the Sheriff was simple.  She was looking for her father and wanted to know if he was still living.  She thought if that was the question, she would get some kind of answer.
     The Sheriff did indeed answer and it was short and to the point as well.  It is just too bad that the Sheriff's letter arrived the day after her father's letter to her.

"October 10, 1966

Dear Miss  D******:

An officer of this department has contacted your father.
He assured our officer that he would get in touch with
you immediately.

No further action has been taken by this department.

Very truly yours,
C****** J. P*******, Sheriff"


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                         October 9, 1966
******,
     We have just moved from S*******, C****.
As we were closing our account at V*****
F*******, the bank informed us that you
have been making inquiries as to wheather
or not I was alive, etc.  I can assure you
that I am very much alive; and, furthermore
young lady, it isn't any of your business
where I am or what I'm doing - or where I
live!  If we wanted to hear from you we
would have sent you our address.  Every
time you wrote, it was complaining about
what a sad life you had.  Well, you're just
about 18, and you can make of your life
what you wish - good or bad!  I wasn't very
happy as a child either, but I didn't look
to my parents to give me instant happiness!
As ill as I have been, you should be grateful
you get your check every month + L***** has
been good enough to write the check out!
     We gave you several chances to live
with us like a human being, but you obviously
preferred another way of life so now you're stuck with
it.  Sorry about that chief.   A******** D******

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was handwritten and took up one page.  Nothing could have prepared her for the anger and total lack of love that was in that letter.  Never in her wildest imagination did she think her inquiries would anger him.  The love that she wanted from him was not there and never would be.  She wanted to invite him to her graduation and let him know how she was doing, but that would never be.  She would graduate with no card, no congratulations from her father.  She would try desperately to forget that he existed.

Looking back at the letter, thoughts of L***** came to mind.  The chance to tell him that L***** was a pedophile that sent pictures of his child to his ex-wife and who knows where else would never happen.  L***** would never have to concern herself about his daughter telling about the men that came to visit while he was on the road working.  Those several chances were precisely one and if living with a pedophile was living like a human being it was hardly worth the cost to trade one child molester for another.  Having a step-father after her was a little more palatable than having her step-mother after her.  That is choosing the lesser of two evils.  Neither was a good choice.  One just had a more comfortable life style, but at least she knew one thing for certain.  Her mother definitely loved her.  That was the big difference.  At one place she knew she was loved by at least one person.

His daughter would never tell him how she was crushed by his letter.  She would never tell him that.  She would never tell him that it never mattered how many awards and pieces of paper he would get throughout his life because the only piece of paper connected to him that mattered to her was The Letter.

The Letter was a statement of how he felt about his daughter.  It was permanently etched upon her heart and his indifference seared upon her soul for life.  There would be no reconciliation, ever.  

She would contact him again.  There would be a different wife but the results would be the same except that the hostility would be more open, more tangible.  She would contact him again and find yet another wife only this one would be a woman that she would come to love and wonder what she possibly could find attractive about her father.

She would try to have a relationship with this man, this sperm donor who created a child with her mother, but The Letter would always be between them and would never be resolved.

Men, if you think you have no influence upon your daughter, you are very wrong.  Don't write her some vile piece of trash no matter how badly she behaves nor how much she whines because one day, she will grow up and you will see that she truly is a wonderful woman and you will be glad that she is your daughter and you will want to know her and enjoy her company and the grandchildren she will give you.

The Problem With The Modern Woman!

First, I would like to say that I am a woman.  Also, I am over, well over 40 years old.  Now you know a little about my perspective.  I will be using broad generalizations and do know that there are some exceptions to these observations.

The problem with today's modern woman is that they do not need a man.  It starts in puberty.  Many are taught that virginity is a nuisance to be dispensed with as rapidly as possible so as to not hinder their future enjoyment of whatever their growing appetites may require.  If they like men, and they are now being taught that it really is not necessary nor even practical that they have an inclination toward men, but if they do like them, they can have however many they require.  Men are of value only as sperm donors and escorts, not necessarily in that order.

Today's modern woman is taught that to feel complete she need only have a fresh set of batteries and a good job.  (That, also, not necessarily in that order.)  We can thank "Womens Liberation" for much of that.

The suffragettes of the early 1900's actually did liberate women from very oppressive situations and work for the right to vote.  That was a legitimate movement.

The bowel movement of the 1960's which was foisted upon a knowledgeable but naive American woman was nothing more than the freedom to go bra-less.  Even that hollow victory has, over time, forced women to realize that gravity will prevail and a well-fitted bra is a necessity.  The Civil Rights Movement of the 1960's was the true movement and gave the greatest advantage to white women in the long run.  Women were already firmly entrenched in the workforce, but it was white women who reaped the greatest immediate and lasting benefits.  Due to their race they were already working in professional occupations that were still out of range for women of color.  It took several years for women of color to catch uup in job placement and pay.

This meant that women who were already working in jobs that paid less than a man working at the same job received the immediate benefit of an increase in pay.  That is a good thing.  Anyone who works at any job and does the job well should be paid the same as anyone of any age, race or gender.  It was common practice in the 1960's to give more pay to a man who was married and had children than to a single woman who had no children or even to a single mother who had children.  The feeling was that as soon as the woman found a suitable man to take care of her, she would quit and stay home with the children.  Many did just that.  The frustration and hard feelings that accompanied being paid less than some slacker with equipment was sometimes quite hard to bear especially if you were the woman doing his work.

We are now more or less equal in pay and opportunities.  That is true in some places more than in others.  Gone are the days when a woman has to work under a male pseudonym in order to be recognized or to even get certain positions.  In the legal sense they are gone, but there are still places where it goes on in a subtle manner that can be sometimes hard to prove or even noticed.

So what is our problem?  I believe it is that we have discounted men and relegated them to the role of accessories.  Men are not accessories.  Men and women are different.  Men crave something that this society or ours has taken from them.  They want to be respected by the women they choose to love and spend their time with.  They are visually attracted to various female attributes, but will learn to love the wrinkles, sags and gray hair that come with age.

By not needing a man we reduce ourselves to having meaningless flings with men.  Ladies, it is a wonderful thing to truly need a man.  My husband is needed by me.  I respect his opinion and trust him to be honest regarding what I am wearing and what I am doing.  I don't always agree with him.  For goodness sake, I am not supposed to.

Young girls are taught to have sex with a man (or boy) for no good reason except that it might feel good.  They have no really good reason to wait until marriage.  They give themselves away piece by piece until they have nothing left to give and feel hollow inside.  They wonder why and no one will tell them that they need to stop what they are doing and save what is left of themselves for that special someone, for marriage.  They do not understand that their body is a temple not to be sacrificed for dinner and a movie or just because some walking hormone says, "if you love me, you will."   They have no self-respect because they have not been taught to have any because it is not required to have indiscriminate sex.  The more sexual partners you have, the less the act of sex means. 

Ladies, I think we don't need men.  We need a man who will treat us like we are a real princess.  Someone who will love us and give us all he can.  If that is what we want, how can we keep joining up with dirt-bags?  The more we give away just for fun, the less we have to give to someone who will be true to us and try with all his might to give us the world.  We deserve to wait for that right one to come along and we deserve to wait until we are married to share our gift with him.  We really are special and until we act like it, that man never will.

That sounds like an old-fashioned idea.  WELL!! Those new ideas sure don't work.  So before you go jump in bed with that new one, think about it.  What makes this one any different that the last one or the last few?

You ALL deserve better than selling yourself short like that.  I won't even go into pregnancy and venereal disease or STD's as they call them now.  It's just not worth it.  Open your eyes and look at yourself.  Do not keep selling out due to some stupid belief that you have to keep doing it just ... because.

Laura

Laura

Laura's death was sudden. It was expected--that call in the night, but when it came it was so unexpected. Nothing prepares you for what Erika told me.

"She's dead!! Laura's dead! She's dead!" Erika's cries came heavy over the phone and I was stunned. At first, it was like a dream--something I had somehow thought but it could never be real. Reality slowly began its laborious descent and I knew it was true.

"NO!" was all I could say.

"Dad told me there wasn't even gonna be a service!" Her sobs were heavier.

"Yes, there will. She will be remembered and we will say, 'good-bye.'" My answer was firm and she would have a service. My mind started trying to focus on what needed to be done and how I would make the trip.

"What happened? Where's her daughter?"

"Dad told me not to even come! What's wrong with him? He said that he wasn't going to call you tonight! He's not even going to let us tell her good-bye! He told me I was stupid for getting so upset!!" Her questions came fast and furious. Erika was so distraught and there was nothing I could do or say that would explain her father's attitude. How does one explain anything apart from Scripture?

The conversation ended and all I can remember is that I kept assuring her that there would be a funeral service.

I remembered the skinny little kid that played in the back yard at Arch Avenue. Mom always saw to it that they had a pool to play in. I remembered all the times that Mom told her to quit eating ants even after she found out that it would not hurt Laura as long as she didn't get into anything else or ant poison. Needless to say, there was never any ant poison put outside.

Laura Leigh was practically a double for the little girl “Laura Ingalls” on “Little House on the Prairie.” It was just too bad that her little life was not that idyllic. Our home was filled with anger, strife and dysfunctional fell far short of describing what we experienced.

Laura strove to be admired by her father, but it was an unattainable goal. There were those heartbreaking moments when I heard Laura ask Mom why her Dad didn't love her. Mom didn't know how to temper those kind of questions with grace so her response was simply, “I don't know.” Their father had a favorite and we all knew who it was in spite of his protests.

She was a frail-looking child but her spirit was 6 foot 9 and weighed 500 pounds. She dealt with her father's inability to show her the love she needed by grabbing her favorite pillow and fiddling with one of the points where the seams joined and sucking her thumb. She liked to be scratched especially on her arms and her back. She just wanted to be loved.

I was 15 years older and was living on my own while she was in school and growing up, going through puberty and going through high school, but I heard a lot of anecdotes from Mom about the things that went on. I even heard about the beatings but there was nothing that I could do because by then, it was done. Mom would bend them over the table and give them a whack with a 2x4 or anything else that was handy and she kept stuff handy.

I just happened to be at Mom's house that horrid afternoon. We were standing in the front yard talking as I was getting ready to leave. It was about 5:00 pm when we saw the ambulance speed by.

Mom spoke, “I hope that's not Laura.”

At that I turned to leave and it was later that night about 10:30 when I got the phone call. This time, it was Mom.

“Laura's in the hospital. It was her. Dave and I are going there now.” She sounded so sad and before she hung up, I told her that I would meet her there.

That trip to the hospital was short because I was living in town at the time. When I got to the ER waiting room, they were siting there waiting to see her. No one had recognized Laura due to the injuries and swelling around her face. Someone finally recognized what she was wearing and they called the family to positively identify her so they could begin treating her.

When we went in to see her, it was shocking. Her face was scratched and swollen. Her body was swollen and they had no real clue as to the extent of her injuries. What we were to find out about that accident and all the little events that lead to it were eerie.

Laura had left the house that afternoon and was going “to town” but would be back early. Laura had plans. Erika had joined the Air Force and was doing well and Laura had decided to join the Army and had pre-enlisted. When she graduated her enlistment became “official” and she would finally fill out the paperwork and be on her way.

Just one little trip to town would forever change the course of her life. She had experimented with drugs but had given them up to make her life count in the Army. She knew there would be no tolerance.

When her friend saw her and asked her to join them, she declined. When he asked again, she said no, again. On the third or fourth time to ask and she said she would but she had to be home early and there would be no drugs involved.

They, all eight of them, were in a Volkswagen Thing as the left the Kroger parking lot. They were happy and oblivious to any danger ahead. As they left town and headed out to many of the country roads, the music played and they smiled and laughed and talked about their futures.

The driver never saw the stop sign that was covered over with tree limbs. As they entered the crossroads, a car coming from the right plowed into them. The car hit the Thing broad side and skidded around. As it skidded in the road, the Thing went in the air and flipped upside down. The child in the back seat of the car was dead. The driver of the Thing was dead and another lay dying. The Thing was lying upside down on top of Laura.

The first responders said it looked like a war zone because there were bodies everywhere. Because of the number of bodies tossed around, they thought there might be another vehicle involved. As they identified the injured, families were called. Laura's family was the last to be called. She lay there for hours without anything being done because they had no idea who she was.

She looked absolutely horrid. By the time we saw her, she was even more swollen and her skin was yellow, but we could see her breathe. After all the paperwork was signed, they took her to her Charlottesville to the UVA Medical Center.

The first time that I saw her, she looked like the picture that shows all the tubes and lines that are inserted, plus she had casts on her legs and one arm.. One leg had pins to hold it all together. Within 24 hours, she had a screw in her head to relieve the pressure She was in a coma and no one knew when or if she would come out of it.

There are those who have told me that some of what I am about to tell is wrong, but this is my recollection and I was there when they talked to the doctors.

There had been no change and there was talk of taking her off life support to see if she would survive on her own. Erika had not been notified of the seriousness of Laura's condition. They decided to notify Erika and wait until she was there to do anything in case it did not go well.

To say that Erika and Laura were close, was a gross understatement. They were about as close as two sisters can be. Erika knew what would be the trigger to get to Laura. She picked out Laura's favorite blouse and wore it to the hospital. When she got to Laura's bed, she leaned over and said, “Look Laura, I got your blouse on and it looks great!”

A movie script could not have timed it better. As Laura lay there, her eyelids flickered and she said, “My blouse!” and she muttered something else and was suddenly awake. It is my recollection that the coma lasted 11 days. It is my belief that the bond that Erika and Laura shared was a part of her awakening.

Laura's injuries left her brain damaged. She had massive internal injuries, a broken leg, broken ankle, broken arm, broken ribs and all of her internal organs had been shifted around and crushed. The fact that she was alive was a miracle. The reality of her long hard road to recovery had started and it ended with her death.

She tried to work and lead a normal life, but because of her injuries, her social and emotional development never went past about 12 years old. She still had a lot of knowledge that she acquired before the accident, but she could not quite get it together and make it all work for her.

People, men in particular, took advantage of her inability to make good choices and stick to them. It was unfortunate that the very half-way houses that were supposed to help her actually lead to her involvement with drugs. She told me, that you could make better connections at those half-way houses than you could on the street.

As long as Mom was alive, she looked after Laura and made sure that Laura looked after her daughter.  Mom was there for her as a beacon. When Mom died of lung cancer, Laura had no where to turn to have that stability she desperately needed.  Her father knew nothing about compassion for his daughter and provided no real support for her.  He just gave her all the money she wanted when she wanted it even though he knew it would be going for drugs.

I asked Laura if she and her daughter would like to live with me and she said that she wouldn't leave Waynesboro and she was afraid that if she didn't take proper care of her daughter that I would take her from her and I did not lie. I told her that if she put her daughter in danger in any way, that I absolutely would.

It came as no surprise to me that her daughter was taught to be afraid of me. I am sorry for that. There is a lot that I could have shown her about who her mother was before the accident, the drugs and even during those time that she was straight after the accident.

Laura's Daughter

Laura's daughter was the cutest baby.  Laura desperately wanted her to have a stable home; one that showed love and cared about what happened to everyone in the family.  It was also important to Laura that her daughter know her father and have his name.  

Laura had no idea how to provide a loving and stable environment any more than I did at her age, but she tried.  She wanted her child to have the best home.  Given her physical problems and the many drugs that she had been prescribed and the total lack of tangible emotional support, it never materialized like the dream she had.

All of us girls had that dream.  We wanted to move out.  We wanted to marry well and live happily ever after with children and friends and just have a normal home life for a change.  I believe it was in all of us to get out of the constant turmoil.  

The problem with changing your life is that you have to have a clear example of how to do it and you have to have an adequate emotional support system to even stand a tiny chance of doing it.  We had neither and it was an uphill battle with mistakes that never should have been made. 

There was so much verbal and physical abuse in the home that we would have to fight every moment to keep from perpetuating the madness.  Each of us would have varying degrees of success.  But it would always be a struggle and it would always fall short of what we desired.

Laura's child, her only child, was hopefully spared from the total depravity that lurks in the mind of a drug addict.  In spite of her home life, she had friends who would show her love and kindness.  Her childhood would be marked by her ancestors but she would have help outside of their reach that would give her a family that she otherwise would not have had.

She would have a chance at normalcy.  She would graduate from high school and she would go on to have a career.  She would be happy.  She would have trials, but she would have a chance to know what love is.

It only takes one to break the chain of abuse.  It can be done.

Just Another Day!

There are just some people who are so self-centered that nothing short of literally cutting off their nose will get their attention.

I said self-centered.  It should be self-absorbed.  Absorbed is more, well, absorbed.  It is like a sponge that sucks up everything around them and applies it only to themselves.

We all know at least one like that.  You break your arm and when face to face with Mr./Mrs. Absorbent, somehow your broken arm is all entwined in their life and their problems and their history.  Next thing you know you are hearing about all their accomplishments and hoping that the pain meds will kick in and you can float silently away into the oblivion of numbness which will also become one with Absorbent.

Oh, don't take it so hard.  Their life is so void of human companionship that they must live vicariously through both the pain and pleasure of others.  Your pain or your pleasure must become theirs to further their survival.

Pretend they can actually feel your pain and it might give you some iota of pleasure.

Keep looking up and maybe they will, too.