Autobiographies from the Dead – Cindy the Wife

For the next several weeks, my blogs are going to consist of “autobiographies” written by some very special people.  They have one thing in common.  They are all dead.  Some have a burial place and some were simply discarded like pieces of trash.  Their stories will be told by the deceased themselves.  They cry out from the fields, rivers and graveyards to speak.  I have heard their cries.  They want me to tell their stories to you.  They want you to know what their living and dying was for.  This week, Cindy will tell you the story of her life and death.

Cindy the Wife

beatenHe beat me.  He beat me.  He beat me.  I hurt so badly from the pain.  But the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional pain.  I loved him.  Why did he hurt me?  He kept on beating me.  Finally, I yelled for him to stop.  He screamed “I will stop when I am damn well ready.”  He then picked up a baseball bat and started to beat me with that.  The first blow to my head, and I could see stars.  The second blow, I thought my head would explode.  The third blow was the last one I could remember and then I lost consciousness.  I can see my body now.  My brains are leaking from my skull.  My blood is splattered all over the walls.  I think my arms are both broken and maybe my legs.  My poor body looks so lonely and disfigured.  I can hardly recognize my face.  I don’t feel pain any more but I still feel lonely.

black-woman-domestic-violence-16x9I probably should never have married him.  I was only twenty-five and he was thirty.  I had dated a series of jerks and losers and he seemed like a real nice guy.  We married about a year later.  We were so happy at first.  I thought all my dreams had come true.  Then the fights and arguments started.  A year after we were married was the first time he hit me.  He slapped me in the face and called me a bitch.  I think I deserved it.  I apologized and said that I was sorry.  A short time after that he punched me in the face.  I apologized again.  I probably deserved it.  The punches and hits became more and more frequent.  What was I doing wrong?

Terrified abused woman trying to stop the attack and devend herself,

Terrified abused woman trying to stop the attack and devend herself,

My friends all urged me to leave him but I could not. I know he loves me and needs me.  If I could only get him to stop hitting me.  The punches turned into beatings.  More and more beatings!  I would frequently have a black eye.  I always had bruise marks on my arms and legs.  He knocked a few of my teeth out one day.  Another time, he threw me against a wall so hard that it broke two of my ribs and dislocated my shoulder joint.  I told him I was sorry.  He screamed at me that I was a bitch and it was all my fault.

Police photos of Heather Thompson in a hospital bed are displayed at her home in Monroe, N.C. Thursday, May 28, 2009. Thompson was 23 in 1994 when her then-husband Thomas Howard Price Jr beat her senseless, leaving her with bone spurs, pinched nerves and osteoarthritis. She has taught law officers about domestic violence in the years since Price vowed in a letter from prison to kill her and their daughters. Price was released Friday May 29, 2009, from a federal prison in South Carolina. (AP Photo/Nell Redmond)

Police photos of Heather Thompson in a hospital bed are displayed at her home in Monroe, N.C. Thursday, May 28, 2009. Thompson was 23 in 1994 when her then-husband Thomas Howard Price Jr beat her senseless, leaving her with bone spurs, pinched nerves and osteoarthritis. She has taught law officers about domestic violence in the years since Price vowed in a letter from prison to kill her and their daughters. Price was released Friday May 29, 2009, from a federal prison in South Carolina. (AP Photo/Nell Redmond)

I don’t know if I can take any more of this.  Maybe I should leave?  If only I could figure out what I am doing that makes him so angry.  I try and try.  I am a good wife.  I cook and clean and sew.  I keep a very tidy house. My meals are always cooked just like he likes them.  I fold his clothes and put them all away.  I try to adjust my time so that I am available whenever he needs me.  I want to have children some day.  I always watch how much money I spend.  I get along well with all of his friends and relatives.  I always try to make them feel right at home.  I am a faithful, loving and loyal wife.  My name is Cindy.  Please do not forget me.  I need someone to remember me.

Battered-Womens-Syndrome-1Nobody is home now.  The police have come and taken him away.  I feel sorry for him.  I know he loves me and did not really mean to hurt me.  I don’t physically feel any pain now.  All I feel is this deep loneliness and regret.  I must go to find God.  I do not really understand what I did wrong.  I have always believed that God was good and he would protect me.  I need to talk to God and ask him for forgiveness.  I want to know how to make this feeling of loneliness go away.  I will ask him to explain to me how I could have been a better wife.  My soul will never rest until I find God and ask him this question:  “Why?”  I know I am very sorry for whatever I did to cause this problem.

Time for Questions:

Why do we put up with so much domestic violence?  What do we teach our children that make them think it is okay to hit a woman?  What do we have to do to stop this violence?  Should we have a “War on Domestic Violence?”  Do we simply accept that there is nothing we can do about it?   Do you realize that t this is an international problem and not just a US problem?

Life is just beginning.

May 10, 2015 5:00AM ET

Brazil passes femicide law to curb domestic violence

Legislation defines gender-based killings and sets out tougher punishments for attackers

by Donna Bowater & Priscilla Moraes

RIO DE JANEIRO — “My best hope is that he dies,” the tall, slight and articulate 45-year-old speech therapist said calmly of her husband. “I know that he can kill me.”

1woman badly beaten by husband lindaikejiblogThe woman, who asked not to be identified, had gone to the courts in Rio de Janeiro to seek protection from her husband of 22 years.

After her husband suffered a psychiatric breakdown in 2001, she said, he became violent and threatened to kill her, their daughter and himself. “I learned that between him and me, it’s me first,” she said.

It is estimated that more than 13 million women have been victims of domestic abuse in Brazil, where a woman is killed every two hours. Despite measures to reduce domestic violence with the Maria da Penha law in 2006, government figures suggest 700,000 women still live with aggression and assaults. Out of 84 countries, Brazil had the seventh-highest rate of women killed, according to the World Health Organization.


Autobiographies from the Dead – Ephraim the Jew  

For the next several weeks, my blogs are going to consist of “autobiographies” written by some very special people.  They have one thing in common.  They are all dead.  Some have a burial place and some were simply discarded like pieces of trash.  Their stories will be told by the deceased themselves.  They cry out from the fields, rivers and graveyards to speak.  I have heard their cries.  They want to tell their stories to you.  They want you to know what their living and dying was for.  They chose me to be the medium for their voices to be conveyed to you.  I do not know why or how I was chosen.  I do nothing but repeat in 12 pt. font the stories that they tell me.  There are many more dead who want to be heard, but for now I have only agreed to share eight of their tales.  Each of the dead will give you a brief vision of their lives but much more importantly to them, they will give you a vision of their deaths.

Ephraim the Jew

jewish shadowMy name is Ephraim. I was born to a Jewish mother and a Jewish father in Germany.  My parents and great grandparents were all born in Germany.  We were not rich but we made a living over the years in various trades.  My family was all hard workers and I was taught the value of hard work and an education at an early age.  We were proud to be Germans.  My father had served with distinction in WW I and my great grandfather had served in the earlier Franco Prussian war.  We had many musicians and writers in our family and were proud that we could contribute to the rich German cultural heritage of our homeland.

HumiliationOne day, some young men started throwing stones at my father and me as we came home from work.  We arrived home with bruises and cuts but no broken bones.  My mother said that things were getting worse for Jews in Germany and that she had heard of many such incidents from other friends.  My father said she was being an old woman and should not worry so much.  This was just the result of a bunch of hoodlums and the government would soon arrest such bullies so that the streets would be safe again.

Weeks and months went by.  More assaults!  More bullying!  Everywhere we turned it seemed that people hated us.  The government passed Pro-German Laws to protect “Pure” Germans.  Somehow this seemed to mean that we Jews were now the enemies.  We were no longer Germans.  Our businesses were taken away from us.  Our jobs were taken away from us.  Then they took our freedom away from us.

trainsThey took us in trains to these large detention centers.  Smoke and flames were visible from numerous chimneys when we arrived.  Some people whispered that these were Jews who had been cremated.  It was too horrible to conceive.  It could not be true.  We were whipped, kicked and herded off the rail cars.  An angry looking German soldier in a black uniform with skulls and lightning bolts directed each person either to the right or to the left when we fled the cars.  Women and young children went one direction.  Men and young boys went the other direction.  My mother and sister went to the right.  They waved and said good bye.  “We will see you soon.”  “We must go to the showers first.”  We never saw them again.

The-last-Jew-in-Vinnitsa-1941My dad and I were assigned to work details.  Food was meager and work was hard.  We labored with very little rations from before sunrise to well after sunset.  My father died a year later.  He was nothing but skin and bones.  He said: “I am sorry.”  Another year later and I could not get up and go to work.  The guards came for me one day and said, “You are garbage and you are no longer useful.”  Two other Jews were forced to pick me up.  They carried me to a large pit.  I noticed many other bodies in the pit.  They threw me in the pit with the other bodies.  A holocaust-bodies-mass-graveguard shot me three times.  “Like shooting fish in a barrel he said.”  I was shot once in the head and twice in the chest.  He laughed as I twitched and as the blood oozed out of my veins.  I was surprised that it did not hurt as much as I thought it would.  I could feel my soul leaving my body.

Finally, I was looking down at my distorted figure and it was no longer twitching.  Even the blood had stopped oozing out.  The guard who shot me had lit a cigarette and was enjoying a quick smoke before returning to another work detail.  I watched for a while as other men and boys were carried to the pit and murdered.  I could no longer bear to look.  I decided to go find God and talk to him.  I was confused and angry but I thought that perhaps a talk with God might straighten things out.  My spirit left this hell on earth.

I am dead looking for godmany years now and I am still searching for God.  I want to know what we did to deserve such a fate.  We worked hard.  We paid our taxes.  We treated our fellow Germans with respect.  We worshipped on the Sabbath.  We upheld all of the commandments.  We were good people.  We were good Germans.  Why did they hate us so?  What did we do to cause this suffering?  Was this some kind of a test?

I think God is hiding from me.  He is nowhere to be found.  I have wandered now for years and still I find no God.  I know he exists.  I believe in God but I think he is avoiding me.  I think he may be ashamed for letting this happen.  I swear my soul will never rest until I find God and ask him this question:  “Why?”  But what if he doesn’t know the answer?

Time for Questions:

What is an Anti-Semite? Why do people still hate Jews? What did any Jews ever do to deserve such a fate?  Are you an Anti-Semite?  What can you do to help fight Anti-Semitism?  Do you try? Why not?

Life is just beginning.

“I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”  ― Elie Wiesel

Perspiration or Inspiration: Which is more Important to the Writer?

100writing3Inspiration or perspiration, perspiration or inspiration, which is more important?  Is inspiration the mother of writing while perspiration is the father?  Some weeks, I am going to write a blog on a subject that I have been thinking about for many years when suddenly out of the blue, I get some crazy thought and I feel impelled to write my blog about this sudden flash of insight.  These insights might come from something I heard from someone, some bit of news, or just an impulse to write about something.  Inspiration has provided the content for about 1/3rd of my blogs.  For the other 2/3rds of my blogs, the ideas come from perspiration. I sit, sweat, read and do research on the subject.  (Here is a song to listen to as you read my blog this week:  Jeremy Secrest – HELP! I’m Writing A Book! Theme Song)

Perspiration quoteSome writers will tell you that writing is hard work and that perspiration is THE key element of the writing craft.  They will tell you how they get up every morning and sit down in front of the keyboard and start to write. It will not matter what they write as long as they write. They may grind out one or ten pages each day this week. They discipline themselves to do this day after day, week after week and year after year.  If you think about it, this will produce a prodigious amount of work.  Think 3 pages a day for 365 days and you have put out about 3 novels.  Think doing this for ten years and you have put out about 30 novels.  With good writing and a bit of luck, you just might find one of these pieces of works makes the NY Times Best Seller Lists or the Amazon Top Ten or perhaps the Oprah Book List.  Once you have broken through with your writing, you have simply to reap the benefits of recognition and acclaim.  Many writers simply become “one hit wonders” while others capitalize on a “formula” to keep churning out hit after hit.

“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”  ― Ernest Hemingway

stephen-king-books-collectionStephen King tells the story of how and why he wrote the Bachman books.  After achieving much fame and fortune with his suspense novels, he decided to see if he could start over again and achieve popularity and success under a new name.  He published three or four books under a pseudonym as Richard Bachman.  The books (Which I enjoyed very much) were nowhere near as popular as his King novels but before he could finish his experiment, he was outed.  The books were then re-released as “The Bachman Books” by Steven King and of course, their sales skyrocketed.  Perhaps with time, King would have been able to duplicate his former success, perhaps not. I have read many works by many authors which I think should have become best sellers but did not.  Hard work and perspiration for an author does not simply transfer into major book sales.

“If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that.”  ― Stephen King

passion-is-your-inspiration_380x280_widthInspiration will sometimes take a writer where mere perspiration fears to tread.  In my weekly writers group, I sense that many of the authors rely a great deal on inspiration for their themes.  The idea of perspiration is anathema to some wordsmiths. Why “force” yourself to write if it is not fun or if you do not feel really excited about the idea.  According to this school of thought, writing should be a pleasure.  You do not subscribe to a weekly time frame of when to write or a quantity to write. You simply write when you feel moved by the spirit or impelled to write by the muse of writing.  Writing like this flows more naturally because it seems to come from somewhere other than the brain.  Perspiration writing is driven by intellect and discipline but inspiration writing is driven by the heart and by the soul.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”  ― Maya AngelouI Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

One of the most famous examples of inspiration writing must surely be Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address.  It was written on the back of an envelope while he was on a train going to the recent battlefield to give a testimonial to the men and women who fought and died there.  Two hundred and seventy some odd words depending on which of the four versions you read (Computers and exact copies for things were not as prevalent in 1863 as they are now) and it has become one of the most famous and well known pieces of writing in the history of humanity.  You never get tired of hearing this speech or reading it because it truly reflects the soul and spirit of this great human being.  Full of repetition and redundancy, it nevertheless achieves a magnificence that can only be attributed to the power of inspiration.  No Madison Avenue ads men or White House speech reporters had a hand in the words that Lincoln spoke that day.  We tremble in horror at the very idea.

“No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.”   ― Robert Frost

There is an entire school of inspiration writing.  Go ahead and Google the theme and you will find over 387 thousand hits on the subject. There are numerous books, programs, quotes, articles, courses and even software that will teach you how to be an “inspiration” writer.  Paradoxically, the Father of writing is much less popular. When I type in Google “perspiration writing” I am only able to find 1,090 hits on the topic.  Apparently sweating is a lot less popular as a writing motive than inspiration.

“If genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration, then as a culture we tend to lionize the one percent.”  ― Susan Cain,

When I wrote my blogs on Immigration, I read over a dozen books on the subject before I started to write. I read pro-immigration books, anti-immigration books, history of immigration books and some textbooks on immigration law.  The result of this research was a three part series on Immigration.  I am very proud of this work.  I put a lot of time and effort into the writing in the hope that it would reflect an intelligent and actionable manuscript.  I wanted to produce a piece of writing that might help people who were thinking about this subject and wondered what we should do about it.  I even created a t-shirt that read:  “Necesitamos una política migratoria justa.  No es una política anti-inmigración.”  Translated, it means “We need a fair immigration policy. Not an anti-immigration policy.”  I wanted to express an opinion that would be understood by much of the Latino population in Arizona where I live in the winter.   (See my blog titled: My Take on Immigration – Part 1 of 3 Parts)

quit piddling and writeThere are those who would say that writing must be comprised of both inspiration and perspiration.  Writing they say is 99 percent perspiration and 1 percent inspiration.  Such formulas are more easily quoted than done.  Many the author who has had a brilliant idea and then waited years for another spark of brilliance.  The great science fiction writer Ray Bradbury wrote at least 27 novels and more than 600 short stories and yet is primarily remembered for one novel:  Fahrenheit 451.  It is rare indeed for many scribes to be remembered for even one.  There is a large degree of serendipity that goes into any popularity that does not seem to be captured by effort alone.  Think of all the books that were written on the O. J. Simpson Trial.  There were over 7 thousand books dealing with various aspects of this case.  How many of them can you name or remember?  One might argue that most if not all of these tomes were written based on the sordid idea of making money.  Whether any of them were guided by pure inspiration is a question that probably cannot be answered.  Nevertheless, there is little evidence that even adding inspiration will make a successful book.  The Goddess of Success seems to be very fickle when it comes to writing.

“The moral flabbiness born of the exclusive worship of the bitch-goddess SUCCESS. That – with the squalid cash interpretation put on the word ‘success’ – is our national disease.”  ― William James

esq-ernest-hemingway-082411-lgYou and I may never be a Hemingway or a Faulkner or a Stein or even a “best seller.”  What really matters is that we share our joys and fears with the world and bring passion and conviction to our effort.  If we can do this, then the question of inspiration or perspiration will fade away like Mc Arthur’s “Old Soldiers.”

Time for Questions:

Have you ever wanted to write something?  When will you start?  Did you write today?  Why not?  What is holding you back?

Life is just beginning.

“If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.”
Toni Morrison


Hooters versus the All American Sports Bar

HootersGirlswithWingsLet’s get it straight.  Real men go to Hooters and not an All American Sports Bar.  This is no joke.  Wannabee jocks, would-be athletes and sports has-beens all go to an All American Sports Bar.  An All American Sports Bar is a place with twenty or more flat screen TVs, a large single screen of 60 or more inches, cheap lite beer (I call them Piss Beers) and some servers.  These are places for over the hill jocks that never even made it to the first string in high school.  Their usual line is “I would have made it but I blew my knee out.”

February 6, 2011 Packer Fans watch the Super Bowl from Zim's bar at 770 N. Milwaukee St. in Milwaukee.  From left to right,  Jennifer Sands of Milwaukee, Erinn Lobdell (cq)of Milwaukee, and Candice Winstead of Milwaukee, celebrate a Packer touchdown. MICHAEL SEARS/MSEARS@JOURNALSENTINEL.COM

Real men go to Hooters.  Hooters, if you have not been to any, are very similar to an All American Sports Bar and will also have nightly athletic events on a large screen TV.  In addition, unique events such as JELL-O and slime wrestling are occasionally featured along with tap beer specials.  But the main attraction at Hooters has to do with the name of the business: Hooters.  If you have not guessed it, one of the requirements for a server at Hooters has to do with what are known in the business as extra-stimulus physical attractions.  At Hooters, you have a chance to see reality up close and personal.  Hooters uniforms are very modest and afford the patron at the establishment an ample opportunity to view the extra-stimulus attractions of their individual servers.  Hooters Girls calendars can also be purchased on site.

sports-barThus, I maintain that an All American Sports Bars is for fantasy and jock wannabees but Hooters is for all the real men who want to deal with real reality.  Let me explain further.  In an All American Sports Bars, you can only watch your role models or jock heroes on a big big screen.  These heroes exist physically in another plane and as far as any jock wannabees are concerned it might as well be another planet.  In Hooters, the real thing is right in front of you.  Front and center are boobs and breasts that in most cases will knock your socks off.  These are usually the real McCoy, although in some cases they may be silicone implants.

sports_bars 1There is no way you can score in an All American Sports Bar since all the goals are on some 60 inch flat screen TV.  At any Hooters, if you are a real man, you can score one of the most beautiful women you have ever seen short of half-time entertainment at an All American Sports Bar.  However, your chances of meeting one of the leagues Pro Cheerleaders at your local All American Sports Bar is about zero, while at Hooters, you can have your pick of women that in many establishments rival anyone you will ever see on the big screen TV.

hooters-waitresses-1Now, I realize that many of you are probably dubious about my claims.  Some of you may even be offended by now or perhaps or calling me a liar.  So to keep this memoir objective and scientific, I decided to do what Sociologists call “First hand field work.”  Some would call it “Participant Observation.”  To test my assumptions and theories, I spent several hours at a local All American Sports Bar called “First Draft” observing the participants.  I subsequently went to my local Hooters of Frederic to also observe the participants.  It was hard not to “Go Native” and join in the festivities.  But I tried to maintain a certain neutrality so as not to favor one establishment over the other.  Eavesdropping on participants in both of these establishments provided plenty of evidence for my assumptions.  Just to give you a flavor of the night’s insights, I have summarized the following conversations that I overheard from patrons at each of the two venues that I visited.  (We Are the Champions)

First Draft Sports Bar:

Wannabee Jock #1        “Hey, you going to watch the big game tonight?”

Wannabee Jock #2       “Yep, watched the big game last week too.”

Wannabee Jock #1        “Think they got a chance to win?”

Wannabee Jock #2      “Yeah, if the lineup holds, but they have had quite a few injuries.”

Wannabee Jock #1      “What’s his name seems to be off his game.”

Wannabee Jock #2      “Should have traded him a while ago.”

Wannabee Jock #1      “Do you remember when what’s his name was playing?”

Wannabee Jock #2      “Yep, that’s when they had a team.”

Wannabee Jock #1      “Should have gone all the way, but for the poor coaching.”

Wannabee Jock #2      “Yep, it took em a while to get rid of that bad coach.”

Wannabee Jock #1      “Best thing they ever did.”

Wannabee Jock #2      “So who do you pick tonight.”

Wannabee Jock #1      “I dunno.  Tough choice.”

Wannabee Jock #2      “Yeh, it all depends on what’s his name.”

Wannabee Jock #1      “Yeh, if he is on his game they could have a great night.”

Wannabee Jock #2      “Yep, it all depends.”

Wannabee Jock #1      “Hey, the games started.”

Wannabee Jock #2      “Hey, I want my regular, a Bud light.”

Wannabee Jock #1      “Yeah, my regular too, a Miller light.”

Wannabee Jock #2      “Nothing like a good beer and a great game.”

Wannabee Jock #1      “Yep, you can say that again.”

Wannabee Jock #2      “Say what?”

Wannabee Jock #1      “Wow, did you see that play.”

Wannabee Jock #2      “Yeah, they keep missing all the opportunities.”

Wannabee Jock #1      “Yep, bad coaching.”

Wannabee Jock #2      “You can say that again.”

Well, that’s just a brief sample of the inspiring, scintillating, innervating and dynamic dialogue that I heard while visiting the First Draft All American Sports Bar.  After washing this conversation down with a Bud Light, I journeyed on over to Hooter’s of Frederic.  The following conversation was heard while I was at Hooters of Frederic.  (Hooters Theme Song and Video)

Hooters Patron #1       “Did you see that?”

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Hooters Patron #1       “Wow, I don’t think I have ever seen any that big before.”

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Hooters Patron #1       “Hi Babe, can you get me a Miller Light?”

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Hooters Patron #1       “Did you see the way she looked at me?”

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Hooters Patron #1       “I think she’s coming back with my beer.”

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Hooters Patron #1       “Hey Babe, are those real?”

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Hooters Patron #1       “What an asshole!”

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Hooters Patron #1       “I think we should get another server.”

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Hooters Patron #1       Hey Babe, can you get me a Bud Light?

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Hooters Patron #1       “Did you see the way this new babe looked at me?”

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Hooters Patron #1       “I think she’s coming back with my beer.”

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Hooters Patron #1       “Wow, she was an asshole too.”

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Hooters Patron #1       “Let’s go, I think they are all assholes here.”

Hooters Patron #2       “Holy Shit!”

Well, there you have it folks.  Opinion backed up by scientific proof.  Evidence from a true research field study backed up by experience and observation.  Losers and jock wannabees go to an All American Sports Bar but winners and real men go to a Hooters.  The real scoring takes place at a Hooters while the on-screen scoring is the only kind of scoring that takes place at an All American Sports Bar.

For information on a Hooters Franchise, please call me at 1-800 Have-a-Hoot or log on to my website at

Time for Questions:

I think we will skip questions for this week.  Unless, you have some good ones to ask and then I would recommend you post them in the comments section.   I am brain dead after writing this blog, or maybe I was before or maybe during. J

Life is just beginning.

Well, if you spend a lot of time in these places, your life has not really even started.  Get a life.  Read a book and skip the BIG GAME this week.

What does the 4th of July really mean?

Happy 4th of July: I wrote this blog four years ago and it still rings true to me. I hope it will help you to think about what this day truly means.

Aging Capriciously

Happy 4th of July! The 1st of July is the 182nd day of the year. As you watch the fireworks tonight, consider that today is now the 185th day of the year. This probably will make little or no difference to your enjoyment of the display you go to see. Each year, the displays seem to get more spectacular. I am rather surprised since the economy has been in a recession and everyone is cutting back on spending. Nevertheless, the fireworks displays seem to be longer and more unique each year. This weekend we could go to a display on Saturday, Sunday and Monday nights. A few nights ago we watched one display and the loud explosions, dazzling sparkles and bright flashes of color contrasting with the grey smoke really brought home to me the vision that drove Francis Scott Key to write the “Star Spangled Banner.”

O! Say can…

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