CANCER - Now What?

Cancer . . . Now What?

They found a growth in my kidney. Did my life change? Not really. Hey, at 76 stuff is bound to happen. I’m so grateful that the tumor was found early. I even heard the word “curable” - not treatable, but curable. A blessing right there. 

I got two kidneys. I know I can live with just one - another blessing. Looks like stage one, they say - another blessing. I should be able to walk out of the hospital within four to seven days, no therapy afterward - another blessing.

However, as a human being I also realize at my age it could be worse, a lot worse. Words like aggressive, spread, swollen nymph nodes, chemo are often used with the word cancer. To be honest, I really don’t know what may be hidden.

So I start to think about what comes next. I’m not talking about the operation or the recovery period. I’m thinking about the term everyone seems to mention . . . “He or she is in a better place.”

To the public at large, Christians included, the words “a better place” is used so flippantly. It generally suggests that death is a step into the right direction and everyone, from your cat, to the crook, to the pedophile is heading there after they leave this earth. Hog wash!

The devil is not in charge of “The Better Place.” He has been twisting the Truth since the beginning trying to fill his place, a place called Hell.

“Broad is the road that leads to destruction, and narrow the road to everlasting Life.” the word of God says.

Everlasting life, or Heaven, is where I am going. Prepared for me by one named Jesus, who has atoned my sins and calls me son.

So I got to ponder what my better place, my heaven, is like.

Pearly gates and golden streets are nice. No more tears, heartaches, or pain is great. Not only will I be with my Savior forever, but everything associated with evil will be gone.

I broke this glorious thought down even more. All communication and intent will be positive.

I went to the dictionary and looked to words that start with “de-”. Just a small section of the tens of thousands of words - words that have negative meanings and will not be in use or be necessary to describe anything in my Heaven.

Here are a few:

Debility, decay, decease, deceit, deception, decline, decompose, decrepit, deface, defame, defeat, defect, defiant, deficient, defile, defraud, degenerate, degrade, deject, delusion, demean, demise, demonize, deplete, depress, deprive, deride, despair, despise, destroy, detest, devious.

In my Better World there Satan is not in charge. It is a perfect world, a world without evil. 

The Loyalty of a Dog

This daddy went to work every morning, kissing his wife and giving his four-year old daughter a hug.

Before he went out the door he gave his little girl an Oreo cookie; they were her favorites. "Mind your Mom and I'll see you when I get home," he said before he went out the door.

The Dad did this every morning. The daughter expected the treat and promptly enjoyed its sweet flavor even before Dad's car left the garage.


Let me tell you about another man. And this is a true story.


This man, in his early forties, lives by himself. He has never been married, has a nice house and a spacious yard.

About a year ago his dog, who had stayed in the house with him, died at the good age of twelve years old.

This man got him a new dog at the pound. A medium sized dog, fluffy as a mop, frisky as a hyperactive squirrel.

Mr Bennette is his name. He listens good, does his business outside, and stays in the house all day, by himself, for sometimes more than twelve hours. He never has an accident in the house and always watches for his Dad to come home.

Mr Bennette also gets a treat every morning. He gently grabs his treat with his mouth and promptly lays it on the floor near the front door where his dad is about to exit for work.

He wags his tail and gets one good final rubbing before his Dad and master shuts the door for the day.

Mr Bennette does what a house dog does, all day, always alert, he waits, all hours for his Dad to come back home.

Finally the front door unlocks, his Dad is home. Mr Bennette is all wags and wiggles as he gets his reward by being rubbed, scratched, and patted.

After that joyous greeting Mr Bennette then gets his treat from this morning and lounges on the floor and eats it.

The dog had all day to eat the treat, but didn't. Why?

His Dad's coming home is more important to him than the treat in the morning. Mr Bennette did not eat his treat during the long hours - it was parked at the front door. As a dog lover, I know the pup would never have eaten the treat had his Master not come home. The dog loves his Dad more than anything the world can offer.

Is that loyalty, or what?

The dog is not the man's whole life, but the man is the dog's whole life!


To make a COMMENT on Facebook Click here   Scroll to this post.

A Good Review

I've received many nice comments on my books. Then there are times when a reader really connects with the stories I portray. 

My first book, "A Time And Place, The Making Of An Immigrant" exposes the hard times a family has without a father, the bread winner, in the home. My father was sent to the Russian front in 1944 and never returned. Missing In Action, they said.

This prompted me to write a novel Red Solstice imagining my father was not killed but had a chance to make a new life, such was allowed under Communist Rule.

Here is a summary of why I wrote the book:

Red Solstice is a unique work of fiction because of the relationship of the author with the main character and the time and setting of the story. The anxiety of not knowing what happened to his father weighed heavy on the heart of the author for decades. This, coupled with the experience of immigrating to the United States as a teen and flourishing in American freedom, contributes to a personal investment and passion for the story seldom found in today's fiction.

The main character is the author's father, who was thrust into service by a desperate Third Reich, from which he never returned to his family.  Missing in action.  Red Solstice tells the tale of this soldier—his suffering, desperation, and indomitable spirit. In so doing, the novel communicates a sharp warning that complacency and dependency on a political system can lead to tyranny.

The following comment by a reader highlights the essence of the novel.

Dear Mr. Beisser,I just finished reading “Red Solstice”,a remarkable book, very moving. I could not put it down, it was fascinating, thrilling, very emotional. There are so many truthful facts--- Russia, the poverty, secrecy, dominance --- a lot of it so true. Coming back to Germany, adjusting to a new life – what a challenge!Then at the end --- Berlin, the wall, the terror --- I remember so much of it.It is a wonderful story and definitely could have happened.What you told abut Russia,I heard from my Dad who was a POW in World War I  in Murmansk, and he escaped after 2 years, walking home almost all the way!----Both books have brought back so many memories,good and sad. I am very happy to have met you, and was able to read these great books.Please, stay in touch! Friederike

To download or order Click here: BOOKS

Going To Bed Was Not Punishment

This is one of more than a hundred stories now published and on Kindle at Amazon.
The book captures my early life until I was seventeen years old.

GOING TO BED WAS NOT PUNISHMENT

My mother, a firm believer in much fresh air even in the coldest of weather, often bundled me up and sent me out to play. My mother’s knitting turned me into a wool-wrapped mummy. With a couple of wool sweaters, a cap, mittens, scarf, knitted underwear, and socks, I played until my feet got cold. My feet got cold when the socks got wet. The socks got wet because my britches were too short and snow crawled down into my shoes.  –I had no boots.

Likewise, my sister, never too young for fresh air, was wrapped and tucked in woolens, placed in the carriage, and set out to enjoy the day. I was told not to wander off too far, and to keep an eye on Sis.

During cold weather it seemed like it snowed all the time. One day, while I was supposed to be keeping an eye on Sis, I was having the best time and was not paying much attention to the thick squalls of snow coming down. I totally forgot about little sister, as did Mom. When I finally checked on her, the carriage had filled with snow, except around Dagmar’s little head where her face lay peacefully napping.

No one heard of babysitters back then. The oldest sibling was in charge. He or she knew the routine, the rules of the family, and decisions were backed by the parents. The same was true at our house.

In the evenings when my sister and I were left alone at home, beginning when I was barely five years old, we had to fend for ourselves. Dagmar, three years younger, went to bed around dusk. I usually returned to the kitchen table, the center of all activities.
Again, I’d like to mention the extreme quietness of life in those times. The dome shaped kitchen clock supplied a constant ticking that soothed and somewhat mesmerized. A little crackling in the stove made the evening complete. When all the fire died, I also went to bed.

Bed was a heavenly place, a refuge from the cold. On very cold nights, when Mom was home, we preheated the foot area of the bed with a warm water bottle, which was a solid brass, oval container, highly polished, and a little bigger than a three-pound loaf of bread. It sported a screw-on cap on top. A little chain soldered to the bottle and cap kept them from being separated. The warm water bottle easily slid under and around the featherbed to desired spots; the hot water inside doing its magic. A wonderful addition to life indeed.

We used other tricks to warm the bed. Several hot clothes irons, wrapped in towels, as well as a hot cobble stone, heated in the oven, made wonderful bed warmers. I remember sneaking up to the bed, reaching in, arms stretched out, and moving the warming objects around under the feather covers until heaven was ready.

When we jumped into bed in the winter time, we lay between a feather tick under us, and a feather bed as thick as a fat man’s belly on top of us. The pillow, also stuffed with feathers, was as wide as the bed. When my head hit it, it collapsed around my ears.
In the dead of winter when the stone walls of the building absorbed the outside cold, I’d pull my knitted hat down over my face with nothing but my nose sticking out of the bed. On occasion the horses below kicked their stalls, in a way signaling that we were all together in this challenge.

Mostly, the nights were deathly silent. Nevertheless, I cannot deny to overreacting to any creaking, cracking, and fluttering noises. When I couldn’t interpret the source, I simply crawled deeper into bed.

Many times, I remember waking up in the morning after the breath of the night’s sleep had formed a frozen circle of hard crust on the featherbed around my face. One could knock on the frost and it would sound like knocking on a door.

The bedroom’s single pane window stayed open in the summer. Being high above the dark backyard, we didn’t worry about mosquitoes. However, everything else was free to enter the room. Moths didn't try, we had no lights. Bats tried it at times, but there was nothing for them to feed on.

The neighboring cemetery had in its midst a funeral chapel. The short, squatty bell tower of that chapel was home to several large hoot owls. The owls frequently sounded off in the night and made two little kids wide-eyed and well behaved.
More than once during a season, one of the owls fluttered up to our window to have a look around. To us, the owl was so big that it had to duck to look into the room. When it decided to sit a while on our lone windowsill of the bedroom, we hunkered down. Often, it did not only look in at us, but loudly hooted; all the while bobbing its head from left to right... We prayed a lot. 

 To make a COMMENT on Facebook Click here 

Fantasize, The Hidden Evil

Why do women, even young girls, dress to attract men?

Being in style has nothing to do with my point.

What I'm saying, to flaunt the female shape to entice men is wrong. To reduce sex crimes should be simple: do not entice the ignorant, lustful, wretched male dogs that are traveling among our midst.

I'm sure other women looking at the emphasized shapes, motions and appearances flaunted are not impressed. And I'm sure woman do not want to sexually attract other women. So, if you are spoken for, save it all for the love of your life.

Why then do married women want to attract other men? Or, why do young impressionable girls want to attract men if they have not yet lived long enough to have witnessed the wickedness that lurks in the world and even in serene neighborhoods?

I remember when pretty ladies were used to sell a product, however, they did not sprawl their legs from one side of the ad over to the next page.
I remember when girls flirted with their eyes not with a cleavage deep enough to expose the piercing in their navel.
I remember when girls crossed their legs whenever and wherever they sat down.
I remember when panty hose were knee-high because no skirts came above the knees.
I remember when courtship was courtship. When engaged meant you promised to be married. When marriage was till death do us part.

Now, everyone is in a "Relationship". I do not mean a business relationship. This word "relationship" now can mean anything you want it to mean. Absolutely anything ! ! ! you fill in the spaces. The closet is wide open. You pick your relationship.

Do you know who said, "In as much as you lust after a woman in your heart, you have already committed adultery with her."?


 To make a COMMENT on Facebook Click here   Scroll to this post.

Racism

Racism

I think our government is the worst offender, and perpetrator of this farce called Racism.

Every government form you have to fill out asks of your race. I have started to enter “American” and no one has ever challenged me; yet.

After all, If just one of my ancestors, back in the 1700s, were to be a Chinese, would I be an Oriental. According to our government I would be. I base this on the fact that no matter how long ago a person who had an African ancestor, that person is always registered as Black. I know many so called Blacks who are whiter in skin color than my folks back in Germany and they are still referred to as Black in this country.

This is a game. A vicious game by politicians to keep animosity stirred. The point is, if you are in a so-called Minority there are benefits due to you. All you have to do is keep that “Chip On Your Shoulder” and you qualify.

Would it not be nice if all American citizens simply be called Americans. Then all other classes could be identified as either Visitors, Guest Workers, Illegals, etc.

One of the fallouts of keeping racism alive is the dumbing down of white men. Just notice, whenever a commercial needs a jerk in the add, it is always a white guy. Whenever a commercial needs a clueless guy, it is a white guy. Whenever a fat slob is needed, it is a white guy. If fat kid is pointed out, it is always a fat white kid. It even goes to the extent of showing a white guy breaking into a house on a Home Security commercial. You know why the ad agencies choose whites. They can’t cry “Racism.”

So, I challenge our government to call all Americans “Americans” and do not classify anyone by race.

Just think, if the Media were not allowed to call, or differentiate, simply by color of skin. Or, if it were illegal while taking a survey, or a census, to ask your race? The Government would be able to lay off a gazillion folks who just play with those numbers. 

It would shut up the race mongers and keep them from stuffing their pockets. It would mend the division of Americans. It would keep politicians from catering to certain folks while antagonizing others. I think America would be a better place if describing the looks of people by race were illegal.

To make a COMMENT on Facebook Click here   Scroll to the post "Racism"

TIME MOVES ON . . .

TIME MOVES ON . . .

Do you ponder? Do you marvel? Do you ever realize no matter how much education and experiences you’re absorbing in life, it does not make an iota of a difference on you destiny. 

From dust you came, and to dust you will return. That is a fact. If you think that fact is the end of life’s struggle, you are most pitied. So, I challenge you to ponder . . . marvel.

In my previous blog post I shared with you a small wonder of nature, titled: IT NEVER CEASES . . .. I’d like to continue with that thought.

The starlings did partake of the trees. One group at a time. They also, in their frenzy, dropped seeds to the ground. Does our Creator think this was wasteful? Consider this question: Did you ever bent down, after the ice and snows are gone, after the leaves have succumbed and had been blown into corners to make mulch, and you picked up and looked at one of those tiny dogwood seeds?

You will find that its shell had been chewed to expose the kernel on the inside of the seed. These kernels contributed to sustain the mice that do not sleep away the cold, but depend on the Lord to feed them. Even every dogwood seed that was not found, and had fallen into cracks in the soil, is in position to become a new seedling trees.

Over the years I have planted maples, redbuds, hollies, dogwoods, and poplars. All had volunteered in our flower beds just begging to be transplanted and given a chance to start a new cycle of life.

Have you ever considered the picture our Creator is giving us when the leaves turn colors, the fierce winds blow, dead branches fall to the ground and are covered by leaves? . . . The Spirit of God is the wind. It removed the dead branches from the living tree, us; our sins removed, covered by the sacrifice of Christ, the leaves.

Although the leaves are dead, the branches are dead, life continues. Termites, grubs, and other bugs feast on the fallen matter. The result is new soil to sustain the undergrowth, new vines, new trees; to feed turkeys and deer.

Nature . . . Time moves on. There is no end. Neither is there an end to your soul. Consider, ponder, marvel, . . . Give thanks.

“Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?” Matthew 6:26, KJV

IT NEVER CEASES

It never ceases to amaze me when I see the workings and discipline of nature. I believe our Creator shows us, in many ways, how we should depend on Him rather than on ourselves. I know He gave us the ability to reason, react, and perform to help to sustain, and to make a living for ourselves. However, mankind, with its selfish nature, cannot rival the harmony and balance among earth’s living creatures.

What I’m about to show is what simple nature has so powerfully revealed to me.

To line our driveway to our house, we have growing six dogwood trees, each more than twenty years old. Two weeks ago they were loaded with seeds, covered with a bright red fleshy hull, very beautiful to look at, especially when surrounded with still green leaves. 

One morning, after the sun had risen to above the tree line, I slowly walked to get the paper from the box. A cheerful clamor of high-pitched chirps fill the air. In the tops of trees, fifty yards away, an enormous assembly of starlings had gathered, readying themselves to fly south. With the brilliant pink and pale blue morning sky behind them, they flitted, hopped, and jumped trying to occupy every available inch of exposed twigs.

I’m sure they passed along a warning to keep an eye on the dude walking in the driveway.

On my way back from the paper box, having passed the first dogwood tree, I heard a sharp increase of fluttering behind me. I turned, and  began to witness one of the marvels of nature. I continued to slowly walk backward not making any sudden moves.

A small swarm, maybe three-hundred starlings, had engulfed the first dogwood and was frantically devouring the red dogwood seeds. As if by command, no more than thirty-seconds later, they all left the tree and reunited with their bothers and sisters in the trees fifty yards away. The birds had stripped all the seeds from the dogwood to within four feet of the ground. . . . I wondered why? For safety sake I suppose; predators could be lurking!

As I slowly continued walking backward, a new swarm of starlings engulfed the second tree eagerly consuming the tree’s seeds in the same manner and timeframe as the first group. The second swarm returned to the  black mass in the fencerow trees, leaving the dogwood stripped of its red berries.

I continued to inch away, giving the birds their space.

This went on, tree after tree, until all the berries of the six trees were devoured. The massive squall of birds had perfectly divided itself into smaller groups so all could partake of the feast in a mannerly way. 

Who directed these birds? Who gave these birds the compassion and willingness to share? Would humans have behaved in like manner?
.

ALL IS NEW

ALL IS NEW

Just imagine, you are 16 years old, you’ve just left your country of your birth, and your destination is halfway around the world. You have never been in an airport, much less on a plane. 

My son and his family have agreed to share their home with Jafar, who is from Nigeria, for  the next nine month. He will attend LCA (Liberty Christian Academy).

The young man is all smiles; a true pleasure to have around. At sixteen he is a mere 6 feet and six inches tall. He partakes in all family activities, and is all eyes and ears as this, his new experience, exposes the life in the USA.

At his first stopover in Paris, he had to change concourses at the airport. As he came off the plane he asked the first attendant how to find the predetermined gate. He was sent underground to a shuttle train. Not trusting, he asked another attendant to verify his direction. And then he asked a third. All this within a 20 minutes layover. He told my son he was frightened when the train whizzed underground to a strange new destination. He prayed he was not going downtown Paris.

After fumbling in Atlanta, then finally landing in Raleigh NC, he had spent 27 hours lost in airports and in the air. The only thing the boy ate was what was offered on the plane.

When he eventually met his new folks in America, they not knowing he hadn’t eaten a full meal, they offered him a full tube of Pringles and a Sprite, which he promptly devoured. Neither treat he had ever had before. Yum--yum!

On the way to Bedford, his new home for nine month, he was amazed by the condition of our roads. “So quiet,” he quipped, “And no one is blowing their car horns.”

The first day was all new. He, was introduced to french fries, ketchup, peanut butter, coffee, and a multitude of other American standards.

In a few more days, I will report to you of the many other new things this young man has experienced in just the first week here. My friends, we are blessed. 

.

WHEN FOLLOWED . . . KEEP WALKING

.
Well, just follow my thinking here. . . .

I went to the store and bought me a bag of Gummy bears.

On the way home I decided to cut through a neighborhood that had an active community watch system.
It was a shortcut, but I was using public streets.

I noticed I was followed by a man at a respectable distance behind. He was obviously interested in where I was going. The community watchman I supposed.

Well, a little annoyed, I thought to myself, "I did pretty good in hand-to-hand combat while in the army. I bet I could whip that nosy fellow following me."

But then reason set in, and I pondered the possible outcome of such a cocky idea as to start a fight with a stranger that hadn't done a thing to me.

As I kept walking, and he kept following, I visualized a possible confrontation.

I could hide behind a bush and jump the pesky fellow.
I could punch him in the nose.
I could wrestle him to the ground; I'm bigger than he is.
I could smack his head against the sidewalk to knock him out.
However, I also could get shot if he should have a gun.

I could just keep walking. I haven't done anything wrong.
I'll go home and share my Gummy bears.


A chip on your shoulder could get you killed!

Relationships

A Point Of View

Being in a relationship could have and does have various meanings.

As I look back just a few decades, I see the secular influence now on our culture. I do not travel, as one would say, in a world where new and crude words are used. I hear enough, however, to make me cringe at the ease of which the media and the younger folks use foul and suggestive language.

Homosexual, lesbian, are proper english words to describe the associated behavior. Why has the country stopped using these descriptive words and substituted the word gay in its place? We all know why. Gay means happy, joyous, carefree, bright and showy. The true meaning has been bastardized to suggest that this lifestyle fulfills all the former meanings of the word. Our culture cannot name a girl Gay any longer. One can still pervert the truth, but can not refer to a person as a pervert.

I'm afraid the word "relationship" has become the new word to cover or hide a more deviant behavior that may be offensive to the older, (narrow-minded) folks.

Children in their early teens are referring to being in a "relationship." To a parent what does that mean? Is it an on-line relationship? Are the kids having sexual relations? A girl does not date a boy any longer, they are in a "relationship." Dating is old fashion. Relationship is now the accepted word for "anything goes."I have nothing against teens dating, hanging out, communicating and enjoying each other's company. I do not like the word "relationship" because of its connotations.

What does the term relationship include? Certainly it includes simple dating. It also includes co-habitating and homosexual experimentation. It is a convenient cover or umbrella, symbolizing inclusion and acceptance in the progressive culture.

Thank God our laws attempt to protect our children by prosecuting child molesters and child rapists. Although some of our States' courts show just a wink and a smile to such vile behavior. "Just part of a relationship."

As the culture progresses toward Hell, I'm sure the term will include group relationships, animal relationships and any other perversion that may creep out of the slime pit.

GERMS . . . YOU'VE GOT TO LOVE'EM

FRANZ'S SYMBOL OF WISDOM

Germs

I grew up in a world, at least in our house, where we were not concerned with germs. We didn’t use the word and worry about germs as we do now.
It was a given, and natural instinct, to stay clear of any fecal matter. Although animal dung was mixed with dirt to grow a garden we did not handle it.
We had no refrigeration and knew when food began to grow blue mold it was at a point of no longer eatable.
We had to make a call as to bother washing off maggots or throwing out the meat.
I remember as a child washing off little white eggs green flies had laid on a piece of meat during the day. However, food being boiled or fried always killed what might have hurt us.

Germs are now an obsession in this country. I agree there are many things one should do to lessen the chance of contracting the flu. However, seeing everything as contaminated makes life a dread. One can actually lose the freedom of a simple life worrying about what germ nay be lurking. Nothing is more precious, in my mind, as a simple life. I’d rather get a few ailments, and build up some resistance and immunities, than walk around with plastic gloves on my hands, a white mask over my nose and mouth, stop at all sanitizers, wipe hands on Clorox napkins, shun friends in fear they may breath on you.

On a side note, I caught myself doing a no-no at Walmart. I was in the process of buying tomatoes, pealed off one of the plastic baggies, I could’t open the stupid thing, so I put a little spittle on my fingers, opened it, and commenced to finger a tomato or two with the same fingers. (I was polite enough to place the ones I fingered into the bag.)

Too many of the folks, especially our children, are over sanitized. That is why, I believe, kids get sick every whipstitch. Everything is treated with an antibiotic. Millions of people have overdosed on antibiotics to a point where the drug industry can no longer come up with a pill that works. Germs have outsmarted the antibiotics and are laughing at humanity.
Maybe, just maybe, to get sick, let nature work its wonder, build an immunity to simple sicknesses, is the way life is meant to be.

Going back to germs. If you are one of those paranoid folks, let me help you to get discouraged.
How often do you sanitize your spigot at the sink? Your handle on the drawer that holds you trashcan? Your phone? The handle on the refrigerator? Your armrests on your easy chair? Every door knob in your house? Your countertops? Your steering wheel? Your car  keys? 
You want to be a slave to germs, shrivel up in fear, lose your simple freedom? 
As for me I’m free! I depend on my reasonable good sense and the Good Shepherd, Who has taking care of me to this day. I know He will have the last word on my future whether I fret over a few germs or not, and I will give Him all the glory. 
.

A Real Christening

This short story is from my book "A TIME AND PLACE The Making of an Immigrant." This version of the story is expanded and will be published as part of an e-book in the future. The story below takes place in Germany 1946.

A REAL CHRISTENING

Bavaria is predominantly Catholic. As in most towns of that day and time, the town’s church was the predominant structure. The church’s furnishings, decorations, candle holders and goblets were often centuries old and precious. The town’s church, the center of all religious activities never locked its doors. One could enter its sanctuary at all hours to pray, find shelter and solitude. 

First Communion is a big deal in every young person’s life. I was about six years old. I know Mom had a hard time getting the money together to buy a large, rather ornately carved candle. I carried it during the processional, along with all other young candidates, up the center aisle of the church. The candle with its added white ribbon and drip cup stood about two feet tall. It sure seemed huge to me. 

I got to wear a white shirt and a dark colored suit on First Communion day. Where the suit came from, I haven’t the foggiest. Mom hemmed up the sleeves and pants’ legs and made other modifications that later could be reversed as I grew taller. All starched-up and ironed, fingernails cleaned, hair spiffied-up, shoes shined, I went to church. 

I guess the significance of the whole religious ritual was the celebration and the awareness of a young person’s beginning the age of accountability. From that day forth one could go to confession, tell your misdeeds to a priest, do your multi-prayer penance, and participate in communion. 

All that was good and honorable because it molded me to be a better boy, a boy more aware of other peoples’ feelings and needs. The impetus for me to do better was either the fear of having to tell the priest your sins, or the dread of saying a multitude of Lord’s Prayers and Hail Marys. Whichever it was, I can’t remember. 

Lunch time that memorable day must have been a little late. I took the extra time to dawdle and look at a new baby calf before I went upstairs to our kitchen to shed my Sunday suit. 

Sepperl, the young son of Mr. Beir, our landlord, asked me to follow him through a door which led to the milking stalls. Note, this was not the place where the cows ate out of a manger. I had visited that part of the stall before and even got to touch the cows, scratching them above their noses. He wanted me to step into a small door which led to the rear of the beasts. Obviously, it was where the new calf could get to its mama for a suck. I knew the place was dark in there, and more than just straw covered the floor. 

Knowing the wrath of Mother, I sure did not want to soil the fine get-up I was sporting. So I asked Sepperl to bring the calf out into the open for me to get a good look at it. 

Well, he looped a rope around its neck and coaxed it to the door. This is where the calf stopped; or should I say anchored itself. Apparently, the month-old calf was not yet accustomed to the sunlight. Sepperl stepped back outside onto the cobblestoned wagon yard and began to yank on the rope trying to budge the stubborn, young critter. However, the calf was determined not to step down through the door and out into the open. 

Plan two. The rope was long enough to get another pair of hands on it. I could’t just stand and watch, I had to give him a hand. Both of us pulled and kept the pressure on, our feet braced against the wall and doorsill. The calf, its head down and stiff legged, refused to comply with such useless shenanigans. Being of the dominant species we, two intelligent boys, stayed determined and braced for the duration. 

Then suddenly, totally without warning, the calf jumped toward the two of us and sent us sprawling. I stumbled backward, unable to right myself, I banged into a wheelbarrow. 

I had seen that wheelbarrow before and smelled it often. It was encrusted with years of manure which had been pitchforked into it while cleaning out the cow stalls. That day, you guessed it, it proudly boasted not the dried but the tenderly soft and wet stuff. When I quit stumbling and had come to rest and was sprawled in the wheelbarrow as if soaking in a tub. 

Well, the starched shirt and the ironed pant creases lasted long enough to get through Holy Communion plus another surprise and memorable christening.

Brr . . . Lets Go Back A Month Or More

.
Even the nandina is bowed in prayer.

The pines are hushed, drooping to shrink from the cold.

All wants to return in time when late summer breezes tickled and fluttered leaves and blades.

To a time when color was king . . .

To a time when warmth invaded the bones . . .

Dreaming of cattails and broom sage . . .

But . . . the time has gone.

We dream to enjoy once more. . .  Let us not forget who has given us every day, as He sees fitting for us.

I thank God and His Son Jesus for every breath, every step, and every day.  HAPPY NEW YEAR!
.

Remember Safe and Free?

.

REMEMBER SAFE AND FREE?

Do you remember when the words safe and free could be used interchangeably?

Remember when children went out to play for the afternoon and the only instruction they were given by the parent was to be home by supper time.

Those were the days when child molesters and perverts understood their position in society. When our culture found such behavior repulsive. When it wasn’t a joke or fashionable to step out of the closet and swoon with likeminded beings.

Yes, children could play all day and be free. Free of predators who have sunk so low in their lust to carry off children.

Remember when the truth didn’t depend on the situation?

Remember when stealing was an understood act and not an available item to rip off?

Remember when adultery was the destruction of ones integrity and not a fling or an affair?

Remember when gay meant having a joyous and merry time?

Remember when a relationship was among businesses? Now relationships start innocently in middle school, but the term also includes devious behavior, such as same sex, groups, and your cute potbellied pig. 

Coming back to my point.

We are now a society where not only our possessions are no longer safe, but our children are subject to being snatched from us at any moment. We hold on to them tight. Our eyes never leave them. We bolt the door, check on them during the night.

Yes, we are no longer free, weather child or adult. The child is not free although it does not know it. The adult is not free because they know it.

The fact of my lament here was driven home to me in a recent visit to my local gas station. 

I was pumping gas when another car pulled up to do the same on the other side of the pump. A lady in her late twenties pumped ten dollars worth into her tank. After she hung up the nozzle, she opened the rear door and unbuckled her child from the safety seat. She picked the two year old up and carried him into the convenience store. Within seconds she returned, having paid her bill, placed the child back in his seat, latched the boy tight, slid into the driver’s seat.

Before she drove off I asked her if she unlatched the child because she felt it was not safe for thirty-seconds while she stepped into the store. She said, “Yes, I didn’t want to leave him out here alone.” 

The young mother and I agreed that we are living in a wicked world.
.

Evil, What is it?

.

Our inner being, our human spirit, can perceive, analyze, and make a willful decision.

By nature we can conclude extremes and total opposites.

We live with light and darkness. We know light dispels darkness.

We know there are undisputed truths, not situational ethics, that can never be overcome by lies.

We know instinctively hate can never eliminate love, but expressed love can, and always overpowers hate.

We use the word Evil, but what is it?
What defines something as evil?
What is the basis of our judgement to call something evil?
What do we have to compare to make evil so repugnant?

If we just throw the word evil out there, and don't know the absolute opposite, we ourselves, are in the realm of evil. Our human spirit is willfully excluding the absolute opposite of evil––which is Holy.

At this point God is rejected.

The world admits to "Intelligent Design" because evolution admits it has no beginning. The world however, does not admit A Beginning who is Holy. The Word says He is Holy, Holy, Holy. God is all powerful, all knowing, everlasting. He is Truth, Love, and Justice. He is the opposite of absolute Evil.

Don't call something or someone evil unless you know the true God. What you are doing is admitting your own capabilities and dominance of the evil in you.

Choose today whom you will serve. We all have a Master. We cannot serve both. We will either love the one and hate the other!
.

Economics Or Brainwashing

.

I venture to say there are millions of people who do not know what economics is. - Maybe some science about the eco system, maybe even a theory that talks back to you. . .

It is obvious that the progressive thought in academia over the past thirty years has purposely chosen to keep the public uninformed or outright dumb on the subject of economics.

Some may say we teach budgeting in middle school . . . great, give me a break!

Nowhere in the twelve years of public schooling is economics, as a subject, taught in a substantive manner. Why? Because, capitalism, or a free society, when unleashed is a powerful self-driving force. This force steers a person to independence, at which our current climate scoffs.

You may say I'm far out on the matter, but I say a lack of spirited drive toward freedom and self enrichment generates a populace who is more easily led and more dependent on a social network for help, or even total support.

What are the world's economic systems? Communism, Socialism, and Capitalism. Ah, but the word capitalism has been demeaned to refer to excesses, greed, and the taking advantage of the middle class.

Even 40 years ago in my college days, when I took several economic courses, capitalism was relegated to be a byproduct in back of socialism and communism. I remember questioning the over emphasis on the worlds failing systems, when I, an immigrant, wanted to hear and learn about the new world and how it came to be the driving force of freedom and personal achievement . . . the envy of the world.

I have seen totalitarianism. I have lived under socialistic rules. I have witnessed the masses fleeing communism. So why are we not proud of capitalism? Have you also been brainwashed by a left-leaning education system and liberal media?

I hate it when reporters stand to interview the so-called average person about an economic or social matter and then proudly report on the evening news the different opinions. Note! They never say they had to interview thirty folks to get one opposing view. But during the news-hour they let us assume the country is divided down the middle by simply presenting both views.

One can see all around what the dumbing-down of the masses has done to the American Spirit. It makes me want to cry to see how the mindset of "I have it coming to me" seems to grow at such an alarming rate.
.

Speaking Of Jobs

.

Now-a-days we hear a lot about real jobs vs government jobs.

This in itself gives me grief just analyzing the difference. On a real job, working for a private company, all people employed have one goal. That goal is to produce a product or service to sell to the consumer, make a profit, re-invest, hire more people, grow the business.

On a government job absolutely nothing is produced to sell, not even one toothpick. (The only thing such jobs produce are votes.) On a government job there is no need to re-coop the cost of salaries and overhead. Why sweat it? If there is nothing to sell, it makes sense not to care how long one stays on an assigned task, or when to finish it.


I recently enjoyed an early lunch at a fast food place. Sitting by the window I watched the traffic, people, and yellow, small truck with warning lights blinking.

As the truck slowly eased my way, down the divided avenue, I noticed two workers lethargically digging and scraping in the grass-covered center isle.

I realized it was the local city's crew. Frequently they observed periods of leaning on shovels, drinking liquid (?), as they gradually, step by agonizing step, worked their way to where I could get a closer look at their duties.

One of these two men dug a hole in the ground, about a five-gallon bucket's worth. Then, after another pause of leaning and drinking, the dude who had dug the hole stepped off ten paces and began to dig the next hole. The second guy, also armed with a shovel, promptly filled in the freshly dug hole. Ten strides later, the same sequence repeated itself.

As I watched, and totally puzzled, I gulped down the rest of my water, left the restaurant, and headed toward the working crew.

"Hey, I watched you guys from the restaurant," I said. "Could you clue me in as to what purpose you fellows have in digging a hole then filling it back in?"

"We are planting trees," one of them said with all sincerity.

"I don't understand," I said. "Where are the trees?"

"Oh," said the helpful fellow, "The guy putting the trees in the hole took the day off."

.

MORAL RELATIVISM

.

MORAL RELATIVISM

Moral relativism claims that morality is a matter of cultural or social preference. A matter of ethics and even personal opinions. 

This mindset translates that there is no such thing as absolute truth. 

So, if absolute truth does not exist, it makes sense to those who promote such beliefs that no one has the right to condemn another person’s beliefs. In such a world one must never condemn another’s attitude, or even their actions. Thus, one person’s morality is another’s liberty.

Moral relativism is an empty philosophy. In its purest sense, it simply attempts to allow all human being to do what they want without fear of guilt or punishment. Such an approach to morality is diametrically opposed to the Christian faith. 

Scripture, the Word of God, the bible, is filled with moral absolutes. Commands that show God demands specific behavior from mankind, His precious creation. His Word also clearly states that He will punish the disobedient.

Moral behavior based on prevailing situations and opinions are introduced by the devil himself. A way to entice the selfish human nature to do what seems right in their own minds. A way to draw mankind closer to the pit of hell.

So, what is truth? God is Truth. Jesus said: “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life; and no one comes to the Father except through Me.”  John 14:6

The apostle Paul warns us:

“For we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in heavenly places.”  Ephesians, 6:12

.