My American Credentials

My earliest ancestors on both sides of my family immigrated lawfully, legally into the American colonies. My 5th and 4th paternal great-grandfathers were patriot soldiers in the American Revolutionary War. Both of my great-great-grandfathers were Confederate soldiers in the War Between the States. My paternal grandfather was an Army infantryman in WWI. My father was a US Marine during WWII. My uncles wore various uniforms of the USA. My father-in-law and his ancestors also wore various uniforms of the USA and served in various conflicts all the way back to the Revolution. My nephew has served two terms in Iraq and is currently in Afghanistan. Though I have never served in the military, I tried to enter several times and was turned down due to medical disqualifications. I have voted in every election since I turned 18 and feel it my obligation, my duty, and my privilege to do so in honor of my ancestors and all like them who fought to insure that I could vote. These are my credentials as an American, a tax-paying citizen of the United States.

Thanks for the Insult

Am I the only one who is bothered by email messages that I don't ask to receive which end by telling me to pass it on to someone else? Especially the ones that sound like chain mail saying that if I forward it wonderful things will happen, but if I don't, then watch out.

I think I am intelligent enough to know whether or not the unrequested email has any merit or is WORTH sending to someone else. I don't need the anonymous author telling me, even scolding me, about sending it to everyone else in my address book.

Usually, I simply delete all messages that tell me to send it on (or tell me to do anything else, as if I am not intelligent enough to figure out what to do without being told). Occasionally, though, I do decide to send a message to someone else. But the first thing I do is delete all the forwarded addresses. Then I delete the ending, which tells the recipient to forward it or something else. If the story or anecdote has merit, it will stand on its on and does not need any commentary by me or anyone else, much less a scolding about forwarding it. Now all this takes time, at least a few minutes. But, if the piece really has merit, and if I think enough of the recipients I intend to send it to, then surely a few minutes of time to "clean it up" are worth the bother.

So, if you have an urge to hit forward and send me something from your email in box, please first delete all the headers with dozens of email address that I don't want or need. And please correct all spelling and punctuation. And please deleted the ending that tells me what to do with the story. Then, if I think it has merit, I will thank you for it, and possibly send it to someone in my address book.

Miracle (and other overused words)

I guess we all have pet peeves. One of mine is people overusing or misusing words. I think if I hear one more person on TV describe something as surreal, I'll gag. I doubt that any of them has ever looked up the word in the dictionary. Likewise with "hero" and "miracle." Don't get me wrong, I believe there are heroes, and I do believe in miracles. But I usually cringe when I hear such words used because they are used incorrectly. The sad thing is that we cheapen such terms by their overuse and misuse. Take for example the word "miracle." A true miracle is a supernatural phenomenon. That is, something that supersedes (I don't like the word violates) the laws of nature.

For example, the jet that "landed" in the Hudson River. The whole incident was dubbed by the news media as "The Miracle on the Hudson." I simply ask, "What law of nature was superseded?" When jet engines shut off, jet planes fall out of the sky. And that is exactly what this one did. Ah, but here is where we can correctly use the term "hero". The pilot used all his training and experience to do exactly what he was trained to do, glide that jet to a skidding landing. And he did so perfectly. Personally I believe God enabled him to do it. But still no laws of nature were superseded in the process. Had the plane kept flying without engines, then a true miracle would have occurred.

People--even Christian people--get angry with me for saying this. They think I'm robbing God of some glory by saying it was not a miracle. No, no. I give God all the glory. As I said, I believe it was God's good grace and providence that overshadowed Chesley Burnett "Sully" Sullenberger III, whether or not he acknowledges it (I haven't heard him say one way or the other, and that's not my point). All I'm saying is that no law of nature was superseded. These aircraft are made to float (if passengers don't panic and open doors, as was the case in this incident). So, even the fact that the plane didn't sink before every person was rescued is not a true miracle. But still an act of God's grace, none the less.

All I'm saying is that if we label things as miraculous when they are not, we cheapen the word and do God no favors. Finding my keys that I lost in the grass while mowing is not a miracle. It is an act of God's grace, perhaps in answer to my prayer, but no law of nature was overcome.

Raising the dead is a true miracle. So is walking on water, calming a violent storm with a spoken word, and multiplying a few small fish and biscuits to feed thousands. There are other examples in the Bible besides these (creation, incarnation, resurrection for example). I doubt that it will happen, but I sure hope that Christian people will not buy into the world's watered down, cheapened definition and use of the word miracle. Or the word hero.

My Good Deed

I was leaving the hospital, crossing the street, when an elderly woman pulled her car into the cross walk very close to me and asked where she was to go for surgery. She said she was looking for the front entrance. Spartanburg Regional has over a half dozen "front" entrances. The light changed, traffic began moving, I'm in the middle of the street and have not a clue where to send this woman. So, I pointed to a nearby driveway to one of the "front" entrances. She pulled away and I continued on to my car. Then my dear mother came to mind. I thought, "Why didn't someone come with that woman?!" I got my car and went to where I had sent her. She was sitting there in her car. I asked if anyone had helped her and she said, "No." Then I saw a security guard. I asked her to come see if she could help the lady. She told her where she needed to be, and fortunately I knew the place. I told the woman to follow me and I would take her to that "front" entrance. When we arrived at that area, another security guard was waiting for us with a parking place close to the door. She took control of the situation so I drove on. I didn't get to speak with the woman again, but I felt sure she would be taken care of. I think my mother is smiling down at me. I would have wanted someone to do as much for her.

Lowest of the Low

I have what some might consider a morbid hobby. I catalog old cemeteries, and locate graves by request. I am a member of FindAGrave.com. When someone requests a photo of a grave marker in a cemetery in my zip code, I get an email from FAG (I know, I don't like the acronym either). When I go to locate this grave, I often find damage by vandalism. I recently visited two vandalized cemeteries that particularly bothered me. One was in Cassville, Georgia (once the largest city between Nashville and Savannah, Cassville was the cultural center of North Georgia before the War Between the States. Read more here: http://www.notatlanta.org/cassville.html). The damage here was particularly heart breaking because of the unusually high number of Confederate soldiers buried here, including a general (for more look here: http://www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~mnwabcw/30.htm). The vandals cracked and broke in crypts. They turned over markers and large uprights. They marred, defaced, and defiled a sacred place. There must be an especially hot portion of hell for such wicked people.
The other vandalized cemetery I recently visited is Oakwood in Spartanburg, SC. This cemetery is majestic. There are huge monuments and family crypts and mausoleums. Obviously Spartanburg's elite and wealthy are buried here. But there is also a pauper's field, and even it was damaged. Again, the wicked pranksters upset and overturned huge obelisks and ornate stones, breaking many in the process. Besides the thousands of dollars it will take to cleanup and correct the damage, there is the theft of solitude and sanctuary, dignity and honor. Who would do such a vile thing? Animals do not behave this way. Only wicked, fallen, depraved, twisted, perverted, sinful human beings. I pray the guilty will confess their crime and seek forgiveness from God and the community, lest they die and enter eternity with this guilt upon them.
Here is one stanza from an old poem that expresses what I feel:
He sleeps ~ what need to question now
If he were wrong or right?
He knows, ere this, whose cause was just
In God the Father's sight.
He wields no warlike weapons now,
Returns no foeman's thrust ~
Who but a coward would revile
An honest soldier's dust?

O.P.T.

We're all familiar with the acrostic OPM. It's what all the financial gurus tell us will make us rich: Other People's Money. Well, it hasn't worked for me. But what I want to address is OPT. I have over 27 years of experience in this matter. And quite frankly, I'm sick to death of it. We own property in Cherokee County, Georgia, which we visit about twice a year. While there one thing that I have done on every visit home since 1983 is take two huge plastic bags and pick up all the trash that people have thrown out on my property. Other People's Trash (OPT). Almost daily here in SC I pick up trash thrown out of passing cars onto the church property. Almost every Sunday morning I pick up beer cans or bottles. I don't know what goes through the minds of those who do this, whether is it ignorant thoughtlessness or maliciousness. After dinner last evening my wife and I went for a walk at a private garden that is open to the public. It is beautiful and lush, but kept up by volunteers. As we came to the center, there were four muddy napkins on the ground. It appeared that someone stepped off the path and got their shoes muddy. So they produced these four napkins and cleaned off their shoes, but just left the napkins there on the ground. Why? Do such people think the world is their trash can? In the 27 years we have owned the property in Georgia, I must have picked up a ton of beer and soda cans or bottles, along with fast food bags, Wal-Mart bags, household garbage, you name it. If I threw any of this in the yard of any one of those persons, they would probably want to fight me over it. I've never done anything to them, yet they not only feel free to trash my personal property, but all along the road above and below my property as well. When God created man (Adam) and placed him in the pristine garden (earth), He commanded him to keep the garden, not to trash it. Yet trash it is exactly what man has done. I just don't get it. Why can't people dispose of their trash properly? Did I mention dirty baby diapers dropped in parking lots? Or chewing gum spit all over public sidewalks? OPT, I hate it.

Dandylions

Just who decided that dandylions are weeds? I've been down on my knees for three days digging these things out of my lawn before they bloom, and there are about a million left yet. If we just all decided that they are beautiful and very desirable, then we wouldn't have to waste all this time fighting them. Some folks go the poison route. That is more expensive and more harmful to the environment (but less harmful to the knees!). Some people eat the greens, I'm told. But I have neighborhood dogs who use my yard as their potty, so I think I'll pass on the salad, thank you. Now, where did I put that liniment?

Help, Help, I'm Speeding & Cannot Stop!

Let's be totally honest here. I can understand an 80 yr old getting confused in a parking lot and jabbing the gas instead of the brake. But a 61 yr old on an interstate who can call 911 and when told to shift to neutral replies that he can't do that and hold the phone at the same time. Gimme a break. I'm 60+ also and have driven for a long time, including a number of vehicles. In fact, I own a Toyota (albeit not a Prius). The first and most important thing anyone learns when beginning to drive is how to stop. You hit the brake, right. And if the brakes don't work for some reason (and in the old days they often didn't), you slowly (or even quickly as the case may dictate) pull up or step on the "emergency" brake (now called the parking brake). If that doesn't work, and if you haven't done so already, switch off the engine. Now, that means your power equipment will fail. Your windows won't roll down, your GPS may go blank, and your steering may be hard as the dickens. But there will be no more power to the drive train. Period!

Now one lady testifying before congress said she did all that, but her Prius kept accelerating. In fact, this lady said she did something that I don't believe. She said she put the car into reverse and nothing happened. Again, I don't know about this Prius, but most cars with automatic transmissions will not go into reverse while going 60 or 70 or 110 or whatever she claimed she was doing. There is a lock out mechanism. And if she managed to somehow override that and jammed that thing into reverse, either it would have a secondary fail safe mechanism that would have the same effect as putting it into neutral (no power to the drive train), or . . . she would go hurling through the windshield at the same velocity as the vehicle as the drive shaft twisted like a pretzel reversing direction.

But back to the 61 year old California man who can't talk on the cell phone and put the gear into neutral at the same time. When I first heard that story, I said to my wife: "I do not believe that for one second." And now, a lot of other people don't either. Hey, Toyota may have a problem with electronic peddles, and I surely don't want any vehicle that doesn't have mechanical gas and brake peddles (whose insane idea was that?), but they don't need people "piling on" and kicking them while they are down. The 61 year old California man who couldn't stop his car says he isn't going to sue Toyota, but he had a lawyer with him on TV, and lawyers only get involved in things like this for one reason, and it isn't public relations.

If Toyota has a problem, then they ought to fix it. If people have been hurt or killed, then Toyota ought to pay, if at fault. But if people are lying and making false claims for whatever reason, then they ought to be exposed and punished also.

Culture of Death

In last Sunday's Spartanburg Herald-Journal (Feb. 21, 2010) an Opinion Editorial by Susu Johnson called for SC state lawmakers to invest more state money for "family planning" because 75% of pregnancies are "unintended". Ms. Johnson says, "We support the S.C. Legislature's restoration of state funding for family planning services in FY 2011 because it is fiscally prudent and good for our state's economy to do so." Translation: "Let's kill more babies for the convenience of irresponsible and ignorant teens and adults."

If human beings want to behave like animals, then maybe we need to begin a state sponsored spaying and neutering program.

Determination

This is a story I heard told many years ago about an incident that happened even more years ago. It was told by a man who says to this day that almost everything he knows about life he learned from his grandfather who raised him.

One day, near where he lived and farmed, Grandpa discovered the trunk of a fallen cypress tree in the backwaters of the Pearl River near Picayune, MS. Grandpa decided he wanted that cypress log. But it was mired securely in the muddy bottom of the swamp. He went to the barn to harness Rufus, his trusty mule. The grandson, a cousin and a friend saw Grandpa hitching up the mule and asked what he was going to do. Being a man of few words, but great determination, Grandpa said he was going to pull a cypress log out of the swamp. So, the boys went along to watch.

When they all arrived at the backwaters and the boys saw the size of the log and its location in the muck of the river bed, they began to laugh and tell grandpa he would never get that log out. Grandpa ignored them while he positioned the mule and cinched two logging chains around the fallen tree.

He checked his work, then the harness, then patted the mule, stepped to the side with the reins in hand and said, “Pull, Rufus.” The mule tensed and immediately obeyed his master’s voice. The chains snapped taunt as the animal stepped forward in the collar. But nothing happened. The boys on the bank began to laugh and slap their knees. Grandpa ignored them. He pulled back slightly on the reins and the mule took a step backward. Then Grandpa yelled, “PULL!, Rufus”

The mule instinctively knew by both his first effort and the sound of his master’s voice that more effort was required. He stepped forward and slammed against the collar with such force that the cinches and reins snapped like gun shots. He pulled against the dead weight of the water-soaked log stuck fast in the mud, the ground beneath his feet giving way to his own massive weight. But the log did not move. The boys on the bank howled and rolled on the ground.

Grandpa said, “Whoa, Rufus.” Then he backed the mule a step or two and again checked all his tack. He and the mule stood there a moment and then both took a deep breath. Grandpa snapped the reins and yelled, “PULL!, RUFUS, PULL!” The massive beast lunged against the collar, its legs bent against the incline of the river bank, its hooves dug in, its belly almost touching the ground, its neck arched, its eyes bulged, its nostrils flared and the boys would later swear that smoke came out of them. And then they heard it, that unmistakable sucking sound of something being freed from the mud. “Pull, Rufus, Pull,” Grandpa yelled as he snapped the reins, and the mule took a step forward. Then another. And inch by inch that massive waterlogged cypress trunk slid up onto the bank.

Rufus and Grandpa both won the life-long respect of those boys that day. I don’t know what Grandpa did with that cypress log, but the boys slapped ole Rufus and bragged on that mule to the day it died. Grandpa smiled. Obviously the grandson still remembers his grandfather long after he was gone, too. I think Grandpa still smiles.

Perhaps we could all learn something about determination and teamwork. Grandpa knew the ability of his mule and wasn’t about to harm that valuable animal. But he also knew that no mule is going to pull a log out of a swamp on its own accord without some direction and encouragement. The Lord is like that. He knows our abilities, and He will not cause us harm. But sometimes He hitches us to a job that needs doing that we would not have done on our own, and convinces us we can do it. It may mean scraping our knuckles and even dragging our belly on the ground. But when we succeed, we will have won the admiration of those around us and brought glory to our Father in heaven. So, when you think you've done your best, but it isn't quite enough to get the job done, listen carefully. You just might hear, "Pull, Rufus, pull!"

If it was the Rapture, we missed it!

On Friday night, January 15, 2010, my wife and I went to bed about 10:20 P.M. We were both restless and I recall looking at the clock shortly after eleven before we fell asleep. But I was awakened sometime after midnight by the smell of smoke. My wife is in the habit of taking a heating pad to bed, and we had a humidifier running. So, I got up to check them to make sure they were not overheating. Then I opened the bedroom door and detected no smell of smoke in the rest of the house. By now my wife was up with a flashlight. We went to the front door and opened it slightly to sniff. That was it. The outside air was heavy with smoke, and I recalled earlier seeing our neighbor across the street burning leaves. We surmised the furnace was pulling in the smoky air from outside and went back to bed.

Before we could resume sleep, however, we suddenly became aware of a very bright light. I thought my wife had shined her flashlight at me for some reason, and I covered my eyes and said, “What’s that?!” She said she didn’t know. By the time I opened my eyes the light was gone. I jumped up and looked outside to see if a car had turned around next door, but there was no vehicle in sight and we hadn’t heard any vehicle sounds. I quickly went to each side of the house looking out of dark windows to see if I could seen anyone outside. There was no one.

The building next door has security lights on three corners of the building, but the one closest to our bedroom window has not worked for a long time, and it still was not working when I looked outside. The next day I went next door to ask the people who work there if anyone had been there late the night before who possibly could have turned on that light momentarily. They said the light has no switch; it’s a dusk to dawn automatic light, but they had not repaired it when it quit working since they had two others and they knew it shined into our bedroom window. I thanked them for that thoughtfulness, but again wondered aloud where that bright light could have come from in the middle of the night. I’m sure those men laughed when I left. But it’s still a mystery.

All I can say is, if it was the Rapture, we missed it! But I know that wasn’t the case, because my wife is still here. I might miss it, but she surely will not. So, that’s not what it was. Any guesses?

A Few Reminders

I offer a few suggestions I have learned over the years. No great wisdom here, just reminders to those who tend not think about these things until they are needed:
1) always have an alternative heat source for emergencies (kerosene, propane, vent free gas logs, etc.), a fireplace beats nothing, but not by much unless you have an insert;
2) always have at least a half tank of gas in vehicles (I lived through the so-called gas shortage in the 70s in Hawaii where there are NO refineries. Since then my gas tanks never, ever get below half-full), it's also very good to keep five to ten gallons of gasoline in proper storage cans, especially if you have a gas powered electric generator (and if you do, please know how to use it properly so you don't electrocute the power company guys working on the lines);
3) always have enough food & water on hand to feed your family at least a week (and don't cheat, but rotate it);
4) keep a flashlight by the bed of every member of the family & keep it fresh (tell the kids not to play with them; they are not toys);
5) at least once practice getting out of the house in case of fire, especially if you have young children; and remember smoke alarms are for adults, children sleep through them;
6) do not waste good money on fireworks; watch someone else's money burn. Instead use what you would have spent on fireworks to do the other items above.