Those of my friends here who know me, even if only in passing, know I’ve a deep respect for our military. Today I think about those who have died in service to protect my family and form of government.

It’s not just because my family life line has proudly served in the military. I am a fan of family tradition, but this isn’t the reason.

It’s not because I’ve bought into the media hype that wants to turn our military soldiers into superheroes with hearts of gold. This is also the same media that sold us the stories of heartless butcher soldiers in our employ a few decades ago.

It is because those who serve in military – both the individuals and their families who support and pray for them – are part of what keeps our style of government intact.

This is so important.

Those who know me also know I’m very critical of our gov’t. I watch it closely and support and encourage those who challenge decisions made by those who are supposed to represent us.

So why, do you ask, do I support the military, who keeps the system of gov’t that I critique intact?

Why would I want to keep this system alive, if I’m always watching it and poking at it on a regular basis?

I am thankful for our soldiers because they protect a framework that recognises my RIGHT to monitor my gov’t and challenge it when I see things aren’t operating as intended. They are the shield to hold back enemies both domestic and abroad. I keep them in my prayers and support every effort to keep them armed and ready – especially after they’ve been honourably discharged.

Today, as I play games with my grandchild, eat food I’ve purchased in a free market, and listen to the sounds of my neighbourhood peacefully getting along, I am very much aware that this is not possible without the sacrifices made by those who have fought on my behalf and those who have preceded me.

Photo credit: Some rights reserved by henk.sijgers

Blew the grandboy’s mind today.   He’s a lover of cars, and dances with joy whenever he gets a new Hotwheels or Matchbox car.  I also have a collection of cars at a different scale of size and cost.

Up until now, he was aware of the presence of only two of my car replicas.  Today I revealed the rest.

These twenty cars have been collected over six years along the many many round-trip visits between my home town and that of my children in my ex-wife’s city.  I stop sometimes and get them from a roadside trucker’s stop called Love’s.

I’ve done that trip for six years, twice a month, and twice on almost every visitation weekend (one round trip  on Friday after work to collect the child(ren) and another on Sunday afternoon when the weekend was over).

I could get these on-line (here), but they are more than just a collection of trinkets.  They are a representation of love in action (yes, the name of the truck stop did not escape me 🙂 ) and of steadfast respect between my children and me.  They could have balked at the hours of driving back and forth, and at lost opportunities to be with friends during those weekends, but no, never a complaint.

Those drives – and discussions – in my old vehicle are cherished.  Those drives have come to an end; the youngest has entered into adulthood and now comes to my home instead.  My final round-trip there will be to see the high school graduation ceremony.  Now that the youngest child is self-reliant (travel-wise) and of legal age, there is no further reason for me to return to that city.

I knew that day – the end of our driving visits – would come.  This is why I’ve been collecting these statuettes.  These are a visual reminder to me every morning when I wake up of how blessed I am to have such a good relationship with my children.

One of my daughter’s friends passed away in the night.

It came upon suddenly, and her biggest regret was in not having a chance to say goodbye.

But it wasn’t a person.

And it wasn’t a pet, either.

Her friend was a frog.  Technically speaking, it was a toad.

But a toad can’t be a prince under a spell.

So let’s say he was a prince under a spell to look like a frog who was then put under a spell to look like a toad.

So he was an enchanted Frog Prince.

He was a faithful and good friend.

He would come out when my daughter went outside to sit under the stars and clouds and falling flower pedals and swarms of mosquitoes.

He wouldn’t say much.  Sometimes he’d chirp in that toad-y sort of way, but never impolitely.

But he was a good listener.

She would say “Hi” to him when he hopped over to her when he saw her sit down.  She would say other things to him too.  But I don’t know what.  That’s between the two of them.

He knew she was safe to be with.  Likewise for her.

Sometimes the dog would come out and start to investigate with his big black sniffy nose.

My daughter would shoo him away (although the loves the dog, too).

The Frog Prince would relax once the muscle-bound mass of claw and huffiness went exploring elsewhere.

She took care of him like that.

Once he came round with another froggy friend to introduce the two.

When I heard that, I said, “See?  He trusts you so much he introduced his little froggy wife.”

“Great.” said my daughter, grinning, “even my Frog Prince has a wife.  Story of my life!”

Ha 😀

Last night, my daughter went outside like she usually does.

The Frog Prince did not hop up to her like he usually did.

Something wasn’t right.

Then she saw.  His spirit had left him.

But before he left the Earth, he went to the spot where the two of them spent many an evening under the stars.

My daughter cried.

But this story may not yet be over.

Next to the Frog Prince sat a little replica of himself.

A baby Frog Prince.

Technically not a baby (as that would be a tadpole) but small enough to qualify as a ‘baby’.

He looked lonely, and lost.

My daughter’s son and I said our goodbyes today, with a proper burial in the back yard.

Next to a turtle from years past, and I think also a little bird, as well.

The grandson is learning that things who live will get old and then die.  He says, “they get olk, then die, gwumpa?  You get olk too?”

Sometimes they don’t get a chance to get olk before they die.  But that’s a different lesson, and not for today.

I hear the chirping of frogs (toads) outside tonight as they relish the rainy season that’s hit our area.

I hear the buzzing of the insects who will nourish these little Princes.

Will a new friend come round tonight for my daughter to protect and keep company?

We’ll see.

Looks like rain tonight. A good night for Princes.

Photo credit: massdistraction

God puts us all in this big crayon box for a reason.

Some make art with the broken pieces.

Some find a way to fuse the bits together.

…and some have a knack for not breaking them in the first place.

I’m glad I listened to my mom when I was ready to pack it all in back in 2008.

She said there would be a time when my relationships with my kids would be restored.

I’m observing art in action, and the result is blindingly beautiful.

Photo credit:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/44456430@N04/

I’ve found that the principles which govern defensive driving also apply to life in general…

1. Keep a good distance between you and the fella in front of you
2. Always be aware, but be more aware when coming upon a crossroads
3. A friendly wave to let someone in works much better than jumping forward to block the gap
4. Don’t assume everyone is going to follow the rules of the road
5. To the previous point – learn the rules of the road where you live
6. Always keep an escape route handy; don’t let yourself get blocked in
7. Don’t let technology distract you from the goal of making it there safely
8. And, as always, look under your vehicles for penguins.

Looking at a child’s scribbles is sometimes like looking at a 2-dimensional snapshot of a 4th-dimensional scene recorded over a span of time.  In many cases, you aren’t seeing a static image but an entire story, from start to finish, in one frame.  Gives you a different perspective on a child’s drawings if you think of it this way.

I was witness to the birth of these as the artist narrated what was going on…

The upper left-corner image is his family members going for a walk and then going into the family race car for a drive (every family has a family race car, right?)

The upper right corner image is a motorcycle going around a race track with increasing speed.

The bottom image is a man who is being chased by lava and isn’t very happy about it because it eventually catches up to him and gets him.

Haha. Funny how Life imitates Art.  My grandson reminded me of one of the best bits of cinematic timing and story telling I’ve experienced in my youth – The Count of Monte Cristo, specifically.

Before I explain why, I’ll describe the scene that played out yesterday…

We were outside, in front and were tending to the garden – weeding, pruning, the usual.  Well,  I was weeding and the grandson was just grabbing everything that looked interesting, so my weeding wasn’t as efficient as hoped.  But it was great learning material and most of the stuff will grow back.

While we I was focused on a particularly tricky patch, I heard the boy exclaim, “HEY HEY HEY HI HEY” which means someone’s nearby.  He’s not shy at all, the lad.

And sure enough, here walks within speaking distance a young lady, perhaps in her mid-30s.  She’s got earbuds in and is out for exercising so she’s focused on her walking.  But the boy is not deterred.

“HEY HI HI LADY HI HEY”

And I cringe but smile, since she notices the boy and slows down to talk to him.  She even takes out the earbuds, so he’s got her full attention.

Experience with toddler brains and mouths and general disposition causes me some concern and I mentally review everything we’ve done this morning.  Had I done any grandpa jokes or general goofiness that could be taken out of context when he blurts them out (specifically, any of the “pull-mah-finger-boy” kind)?

What will take place in the next few seconds?

Queue the scene from the movie.

In the scene, we have Gérard de Villefort, the story’s main bad guy, who calls in Edmond Dantès for questioning.  We, the audience, know de Villefort is up to no good when he calls the boy in.  And we know the boy has an innocent heart and will say just about anything, since he’s young and innocent and giddy with happiness due to his recent engagement with his loved one, Mercedes.

The questioning goes well, even though we know something’s afoot.  We the audience are holding our breath as the lad answers honestly and truthfully (why wouldn’t he?) in this very dangerous situation.  Trouble is, he doesn’t know just how dangerous a situation he is in.

However, he breezes through the interrogation, and proves his innocence with no problem at all.  Mr. de Villefort even explains why he knows the boy is innocent of all wrong doing.  He is free to go back to his family and future bride…!

But, as he is walking out the door, there’s a Final Question.  And this (amongst one of the many parts of the story I love) is the pivotal point – this is the moment where everything falls down for the boy.

I paraphrase de Villefort here from the movie : “O, and one more thing – I see no address on the envelope.  It’s to be handed to whom? [pause and intensity happens] … Say that name once more…?”  And we the audience start to get that feeling of uuuuugggghhhh.

So here we are in the front yard, enjoying a nice fall~ish morning.

Some nice lady walks by, a boy gets her attention, and although she’s certainly not a baddie like Mr. de Villefort, the situation starts to seem frighteningly familiar.

The usual questions are asked and answered, as well as the usual general pleasantries (“how old are you”, “I like your shoes, it’s pretty outside today”, “yes you are a big boy helping grandpa”, “yes, i see you have 5 pine cones”, etc.).

She tries to escape twice before she’s successful on the third attempt with a “Ok, i got to go now, we’ll see you later, ok, bye bye”.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I wave a silent “bye” to her and we both grin at his lack of fear.

The grins freeze as he turns around.

“HEY GWAMPA I TALKED TO THE OLD LADY.

THE OLD LADY IS NICE TO ME!!!

BYE OLD LADY”

O, that familiar feeling of uuuuugggghhhh…

If the link doesn’t take you straight to the scene I saw in my mind, go to the 11:27 mark to get the idea 🙂

Photo courtesy of Michael Gil (Flickr)

I was driving to work this morning and saw an uplifting message while driving past a firehouse.

Not surprisingly, as I approached, a fire truck was leaving the station, lights ablaze, alarms sounding, cars nearby stopping and pulling over to the side of the road, etc. The works.

Then I noticed, in the midst of this, an image that turned the scene into one of those Norman Rockwell paintings.

One of the firemen wasn’t on the truck.

He was calmly tending to the grass out in front of the station with one of those old-timey reel grass cutters (the kind back in vogue due to energy savings measures). No anxiety, not even noticing the clamour a few yards away.

And then I heard the message.

Even in our crazy, calamitous, sometimes out-of-control situations, we can find the Regular Things. Those wonderfully dull, delightfully dreary, static things that keep us anchored and sometimes sane.

There’s a saying I think is attributed to the military as it relates to combat situations: “When you don’t know what to do, do what you know. ”

It’s a battle out there. Live long and keep your head down.

But most importantly, keep your eyes open for the regular things.

Photo credit:

https: //www.flickr.com/photos/califrayray/485654715

We can’t change the past of the person we’ve become today. We can, however, sculpt and mold the past of the person we plan to become tomorrow.

What are your plans for today?

Will you be hopeful enough to dream the plans, and bold enough to execute them? Most importantly, will you be steadfast enough to see them through to completion?

How will the person you create tomorrow thank you for the work you’ve done today?

“Wake me up when we get there”

That’s at once a comforting and terrifying phrase.

This is because this assumes a level of trust that is right up there with leaving one’s life in someone’s hands.

Depending one’s experience with trust, it may be a long time before never when one sleeps during another’s time at the helm.

Seems I am using this word in an archaic manner.

I thought it was just my daughter teasing me.

But no, the dictionary says so too

O the power of trade treaties.

I find it hard to believe that it costs less money to make and ship manhole covers in and from a foreign country than it is to employ local labor…

Memories and the workings of the mind are both amazing and terrible things.

I was driving through a part of town I’d not travelled in for a couple of decades. Somehow, due to the time of day, the combination of landmarks, and the music playing in the background over the truck speakers, a younger, chipper version of myself popped up in my head, like a legendary djinn.

“O hi!”, he chirped, “I see we’ve passed THAT STORE. When will you get THAT THING shipped home?” (“THAT STORE” being a mental image of the furniture shop we’d just passed, and “THAT THING” being a mental image of some item my wife-at-the-time and I had talked about purchasing)

My present, older and somewhat grizzled self grunted, “What are you going on about? I don’t remember that.”

“What? You both loved it and wanted to put it OVER THERE.” (“OVER THERE” being a mental image of the arrangement in the long-gone house, with a blinky image-spot where THAT THING would go)

“Hm.” Grunted the older self. “Didn’t work out.”

The younger self, now becoming aware of his mental surroundings, started poking around the storeroom of current events.

“And where’s THIS THING and why didn’t THAT HAPPEN and when did THAT get broken? And what’s THIS THING?” (A dizzying series of images flashed with alarming frequency)

“What”, the younger self stopped and turned abruptly, “have you been doing with me all this time?”

My current, experienced, and less chipper self took a slight breath before responding.

“C’mon”, he sighed as he draped a heavy arm on the other’s shoulders, “we need to talk.”

So the two of them left and went into a private, back storage area in our collective mind to debrief.

They did so leaving another, somewhat confused self steering this ship of memories across an unpredictable sea.

People can say my faith in a higher power is old-fashioned and simplistic. That’s ok.

Some of the most powerful and wonderful things in the world are the most simplistic, and quite old.

Take gravity for instance. It’s been around since time existed, is the weakest, and is one of the simplest of forces in nature.

But it is everywhere.

It moves mountains.

It touches everything, from planets and solar systems, to the molecules that make up our gadgets, our coffee, our bodies.

And, it still works, no matter what is in vogue. Flawlessly.

Pretty heavy, man.

Sometimes spurts of healing come quickly and briefly, like the wildflowers of spring, and disappear just as quickly.

Sometimes they come slowly, steadfast, and solidly, like the stubborn growth cycle of trees.

Sometimes they wait a spell before gingerly poking their way out, tentatively testing the waters.

Sometimes they seem lost, gone, absent, never to be seen. But then when the healing moments appear, they are as familiar as if they had never been gone.

In all cases they are part of growth.

It’s a good thing to see this and appreciate the wonder of their patterns.

We wake in the morning and ponder our challenges. What is needed? What shall i do? When is it needed? What if i fail?

With ‘what if i fail’ comes an equal and opposite, and much more encouraging question: “What if i SUCCEED?”

That is a powerful and compelling question.

Where are the limits of success? Healthy success, naturally, the kind that warms the hearts of those around us. What will happen when I succeed in this area? How will this motivate and encourage others? The hidden, potential answer to this is definitely worth jumping out of bed and throwing ourselves into the stream of life in which we swim.

And what if I fail? Even in failure we learn our boundaries and limits, if we are paying attention. Others can learn from our face-plant attempts to try something. And that could be counted as a minor success on its own.

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Image Attribution

http://stockarch.com/images/business-and-industry/education/question-key-2877

Today is a day of observing art in action.

Art is a funny thing.  Not necessarily funny “haha”, although comedy is a special art form unto itself.

No, today’s art form consists partly of masking tape, toy cars, various home furnishings, and lots of imagination.

But those bits aren’t the arty part.

Sure, they are part of the greater work, molded by a master’s hand, sculpted into an ever-moving and ever-changing mass of work.  The master is learning at a burning rate of speed about viscosity, balance, adhesiveness and the impact of various levels of dirt picked up off the floor by the tape as he guides his cars on and around the substance.

He knows he creates things, and his solo adventures can be seen and heard from my vantage point.  He is alone at the moment but yet not alone; his hands and mind and surroundings build a nearly-tangible wall of force around him as his imagination plays out in front of the both of us.  The inhabitants of his world are put in dire peril and rescued at his command.  They are instructed in the art of diplomacy as the master commands they play together nicely and are at times put into the time-out corner when one breaches protocol.  It is a fearsome and benevolent interplay of self upon self.

This – the master’s mind and actions becoming one – is the true art in action.

It is kinetic, nearly quantum in the interplay of potential and realised energies charging into being as “playing” commences.

I observe from afar but not too distantly.  Young master brings me into his world now and again but he has clear and firm boundaries which are respected.  It’s a mutual respect of our space and time – I don’t step in when he’s furiously generating items from his mind, and now and again he’ll request/demand an audience when I’m not ready, which is a moment to reinforce the art of patience.

He sings now and again, in his husky, raspy voice.  The tunes are short, silly, and relevant to the play at hand.

We often sing together on our occasional road trip; no song is ever repeated as they are made up on the spot.  Well, except for the “help i can’t get out (of the car seat), I’m stuck” song we sing together.  It helps him to know he’s not alone when strapped into a seat belt, because so am I.

This art – this ever-moving, ever-changing reminder of my past and hope for our future – is a wonder to behold.

In him I see my children re-played, with their own wonders and frustrations and triumphs.

In him I recall my youth in a way I could not when raising my own children – over twenty years of life experience provides different eyes and ears to a man.  I can observe this artwork in a way I didn’t appreciate then.

In him is a heart and mind as big as this universe, and immediately again as small as each of us are in this swirling dust storm of creation.

It is said that true art stirs emotions in the participant.  Truer words have never been spoken.

Taxation without representation is the start of a steep downwards spiral.

Without representation – meaning we say what happens with our money – we’d be funding programmes that we can’t control.

Gov’t systems, by their very nature, demand control and money, plain and simple. My thoughts here lie in the ‘paranoid fringe’ area, but observation of current events some countries leads me to these conclusions.

It’s all about the money.

Money on its own isn’t evil – the love of money is.  And gov’t systems love money, because of the power that comes with it.

____________________________________

Please note, gentle reader, that what i write below doesn’t have to be this way.  

I’m writing in the hopes that some will see this,

give a thought to what they support,

and possibly try to keep this from happening.

____________________________________

If I were an evil gov’t genius, given virtually unlimited funding and an aim for unstoppable control, this would be my mid-to-long-term plan:

1) Prevent those who can’t be taxpayers from being born

(i.e. those with defects) – that’s why birth control isn’t pushed as hard by gov’t as is abortion.

Why spend control money on children who will never financially or ideologically support the system?

  I’d ensure that every baby born is a happy, healthy baby, ready to bring joy to his mother’s house, who will eventually become a cherished member of (gov’t) society.

2) Destroy the two-parent family unit

It’s easier to take control of a family when there’s only one parent of the children.

Divide and conquer.  Very simple.

For families with many parents (i.e. ‘shared families’) where the children live at grandma’s house, cousins’ house, ‘friend of family’ house, or sometimes in a combination of these, that’s ok too.  The key bit is to keep the children’s loyalty off the single family unit.  Especially for families that require gov’t assistance to survive.

Ideally, every family the children live in would be monitored to ensure the children have a solid education in the benefits received by the system.

  I’d ensure every child gets the care they need, even if this means placing a child in another home for a short time.  This way the birth parent(s) can get the retraining they need without endangering the child’s development.

3) Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.

The gov’t needs taxpayers.  It needs taxpayers who are conditioned to support the cause from birth.

That’s why it condones people on the dole who have multiple babies and gives them money to raise them in gov’t -sponsored creches and feeds them gov’t-sponsored food (selected for its ability to leave them hungry afterwards, and that can’t be grown/produced without the help of gov’t assistance).

Dependence on gov’t healthcare schemes – now a law, and not just by preference – provides ‘free’ medical care for those on the dole.  It’s easy!  As long as you fill out the right forms, stand in the right line long enough, and come back when you find out the form you filled out at the start of the wait is no longer valid when its your turn at the window.

But those born into this don’t see anything wrong with this.

  I’d ensure that every child has a means to a safe, productive life, with guaranteed education and a way to get the help they need.  Regardless of the situation, they can always reach out to their ‘guardian angel’ who will act on their behalf if they feel threatened or neglected.

4) Remove those from the system who aren’t able to support the gov’t

This isn’t just for those who can’t provide money.  Remember, gov’t craves power.  If paying for loyalty is needed for a short while, then those supporting the cause are immune to corrective action, provided they give voting or public support when this is needed.

Gov’t mandated/sponsored ‘health care’ provides the vehicle for this.

Too old, to cranky, too ‘paranoid’?  Can’t/won’t feed the system because of these attributes?

‘Death by waiting in line’, ‘mental health issues’, ‘national security risk’ labels, in that order, will cure this.

To assist with this, I’d set up gov’t agents to review and monitor sections of the taxpayer base, and question the actions taken.  As and when the ‘offenders’ trip the right programme switches, they will be dealt with accordingly.

  I’d ensure every citizen has a safe and productive environment in which to live, free from the worry that the demands of those unable to assist will prevent them from becoming successful.

5) Buy the votes and set up shop

In the USA, why do we have so many people on the dole who could be working but the gov’t doesn’t seem to care?

At the moment these are bought votes. They are the means to the end – control of individual rights. They support the actions taken by our gov’ts that reduce our access to individual liberty.

This means – and especially means – creating ‘Executive Orders’ that have the force of law, without the legal hassle of going through representatives of the tax base.  This will cover all areas of individual liberty – from where we live, to the schools our children are taught in, to the way we physically protect ourselves and loved ones.

Those whose votes are bought will willingly allow this, by supporting the reps who won’t fight against them, and removing those who do.

It’s not just those who are bought – this includes those who are too fearful to speak out, those who honestly believe that Mankind on his own won’t make the right choices, or those who seek the comfort of someone/something to fix things for them without having to think about the details.

This doesn’t mean just Congress or the House  or the Senate – it means anyone who represents us in gov’t.  Local judges, law enforcement, city officials – they all have  apart to play in this.

In the future, if we allow our rights to be ignored and legally dismissed by executive orders, the folks on the dole will be working too, by force.  The gov’t ‘owns’ their children in school, ‘owns’ their medical cards, ‘owns’ their housing and education and will be demanding recompense for these things. Ain’t nothing free.

 Its a small victory, however.

  I’d ensure the needs of the many are taken care of quickly, efficiently, and firmly.  There are times when we can’t stop and argue about what needs to be done.  Our people expect, no, deserve, a leadership that can take action swiftly and without hindrance.

6) Put a fork in it, time to eat

The rest of us, who’ve been working and paying taxes and generally supporting ourselves the whole time?

By that time, “equal pay for equal work” will be enforced, and taxed heavily. And enforced heavily as well via the tax-paying mechanism and at gunpoint, literally.  In the USA we have the IRS and FEMA to thank for this.

If you don’t think FEMA is something to worry about because it’s only for ‘national emergencies’ think again.

FEMA is part of Homeland Security.

OIG (Office of Inspector General)  is part of FEMA.

OI (part of OIG) is part of OIG.

OI has the authority to investigate Social Security fraud.

OI has recently received, at the request of the SSA (Social Security Administration) approval for the purchase of 174,000 rounds of “.357 Sig 125 grain bonded jacketed hollow point pistol ammunition.”

This only one department – many others are stocking up as the media stories fed to the public strongly discourage personal gun ownership.  Basically we’re being outgunned and won’t be able to prevent action by force when it comes down to this.  Unless, of course we urge our reps to stop this, and they actually take action to represent us.

Jobs will be ‘graded ‘and we won’t earn more than the pay grade allows.  To move to a different grade will require gov’t approval and review.  If you know someone who has power to move you up a notch (for an under-the-table fee) then you may have a means to make a little more cash at a higher tax rate.

Entrepreneurs – those who now work free-lance or who own their own business – will be subject to heavy fees, taxation at a rate much much higher than the general tax base, and invasive, regular auditing.  This will kill many businesses as the owners decide it’s easier to just fit into a gov’t selected job slot for them, or go to a different country that hasn’t the same regulations.  That’s going to be harder to find as time goes on however.

  I’d ensure that no one is left out of the system.  The days of “owning too much” are over.  I’d ensure every homeless, down-trodden person who looks into the store window and sees the rich get richer will get a fair chance at getting a piece of this pie.  I’d ensure that everyone gets a fair amount of pay for a fair amount of work.  To do this we all have to work together – and to help with this I’ll assign specialists who can guide you on the way to success.

Yep.  That’s what I’d do.

[queue evil laugh]

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Photo credits

http://www.flickr.com/photos/niwru/2200320669/

http://www.clipartpal.com/_thumbs/election_071_02_tns.png