How does one say "Thank You" for such an incredible debt owed? I'm talking about the women that stand guard at home, support us, encourage us and reinforce that fighting spirit that sustains us. Our wives, mothers, grandmothers, aunts, sisters, volunteers and so many other wonderful and strong women that I can't even begin to name. Not just our team but each and every soldier, marine, sailor or airman that deploys to Afghanistan or Iraq, for that matter any conflict. A huge burden is being carried by those that fight but do not go to combat.
Thank you, for being the ones that deal with the mess once we leave. We're trained well to fight. But there is no Field Manual that describes how to explain to a young child that their father isn't going to be home for a long time or in the worst case may never come home. You do it with such grace and poise.
Thank you, for being patient and waiting. Enduring the pain of waiting to hear from us wondering if the worst has occurred when we're late calling or emailing and enduring our complete lack of understanding at your frustration and fear when we are late. "We came back late from patrol"; just doesn't validate that fear. Your patience is epic.
Thank you, for being the ones that hold us fast to reality and help put us back together when we return. You hold us tight and tell us things will be Ok when the rockets and gunfire have gone but the war has not left us. Your strength is what protects the warrior.
Thank you, for accomplishing all the things that we fail to acknowledge. Fixing broken sprinklers, taking kids to school, paying bills and the myriad of other things that are required to sustain life at home. You do so much and get so little from us many times.
Thank you for being the volunteer that says, "Welcome Home" in the middle of the night ensuring that no one comes home to silence and being there when we leave to say "Come Home Safe". You inspire us with your selfless service.
Finally, thank you for serving in a war you did not volunteer for and keeping us strong, sane and secure. We and the rest of the country owe you a huge debt that can never be repaid, the best we can hope for is to understand your journey, listen and learn from you.
From the bottom of our hearts, Team VAMPIRE and every other serving member says "THANK YOU"!
And to my wife and mother; I could not have done all of this without you. You are the truest warriors I know, pure of heart, strong in determination and unwavering in faith. I have a lot to learn from your examples!

Here is an example of why hiring illegal aliens is not economically productive for the State of California.... or for any other state, as far as that goes!

Joe Legal vs. Joe Illegal
You have 2 families... "Joe Legal" and "Jose Illegal". Both families have 2 parents, 2 children and live in California.
"Joe Legal" works in construction, has a Social Security Number, and makes $25.00 per hour with payroll taxes deducted.
"Jose Illegal" also works in construction, has "NO" Social Security Number, and gets paid $15.00 cash "under the table".
Joe Legal...$25.00 per hour x 40 hours $1000.00 per week makes $52,00020per year. Now take 30% away for state federal tax. Joe Legal now has $31,231.00.
Jose Illegal...$15.00 per hour x 40 hours $600.00 per week makes $31,200.00 per year. Jose Illegal pays no taxes. Jose Illegal now has $31,200.00
Joe Legal pays Medical and Dental Insurance with limited coverage ... $1000.00 per month... $12,000.00 per year. Joe Legal now has $19,231.00.
Jose Illegal has full Medical and Dental coverage through the state and local clinics at a cost of $0.00 per year. Jose Illegal still has $31,200.00
Joe Legal makes too much money so he is not eligible for Food Stamps or Welfare. Joe Legal pays for food... $1,000.00 per month... $12,000.00 per year.
Joe Legal now has $7,231.00
Jose Illegal has no documented income and is eligible for Food Stamps and Welfare. Jose Illegal still has $31,200.00.
Joe Legal pays rent of $1,000.00 per month .. $12,000.00 per year. Joe Legal is now in the hole... minus (-) $4,769.00
Jose Illegal receives a $500 per month Federal rent subsidy. Jose Illegal pays rent of $500.00 per month... $6,000.00 per year. Jose Illegal still has $31,200.00
Joe Legal now works overtime on Saturdays or gets a part time job after work.
Jose Illegal has nights and weekends off to enjoy with his family.


Joe Legal's and Jose Illegal's children both attend the same school.
Joe Legal pays for his children's lunches while Jose Illegal's children get free government sponsored lunches.
Joe Legal's children go home after school.
Jose Illegal's children have an after school ESL program which, again, is provided free of charge.
Joe Legal and Jose Illegal both enjoy the same Police and Fire Services, but Joe Legal paid for them and Jose Illegal did not pay.

Don't vote for or support any politician that supports illegal aliens!
It's PAST time to take a stand for America and Americans!

When I was a wee ''tike'', my mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then.
And I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard
day at work.
On that evening so long ago, my mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned
biscuits in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! Yet all my dad did was reach for his biscuit, smile at my mom and ask me how my day was at school. I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that
biscuit and eat every bite!
When I got up from the table that
evening, I remember hearing my mom apologize to my dad for burning the biscuits. And I'll never forget what he said: "Baby, I love burned biscuits."
Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his biscuits burned.
He wrapped me in his arms and said, "Your Momma put in a hard day at work today and she's real tired. And besides - a little burnt biscuit never hurt anyone!"
You know, life is full of imperfect things.....and imperfect people.
What I've learned over the years is that learning to accept each other's faults-and choosing to celebrate each other's differences- is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy,
growing, and lasting relationship.
And that's my prayer for you today. That you will learn to take the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of your life and lay them at the feet of God.
Because in the end, He's the only One who will be able to give you a relationship where a burnt biscuit isn't a deal-breaker!
We could extend this to any relationship. In fact! Understanding is the base of any relationship, be it a husband-wife, parent-child, siblings, or friendship!
"Don't put the key to your happiness in someone else's pocket! Keep it in your own."

Once upon a time, I was invited to the Capital for a private dinner with the President. I am a respected businessman, with a factory that produces memory chips for computers and portable electronics. There was some talk that my industry was being scrutinized by the administration, but I paid it no mind. I live in a free country. There's nothing that the government can do to me if I've broken no laws. My wealth was earned honestly, and an invitation to dinner with the President is an honor.
I checked my coat, was greeted by the Chief of Staff, and joined the President in a yellow dining room. We sat across from each other at a table draped in white linen. The Great Seal was embossed on the china. Uniformed staff served our dinner.
The meal was served, and I was startled when my waiter suddenly reached out, plucked a dinner roll off my plate, and began nibbling it as he walked back to the kitchen.
"Sorry about that," said the President. "Andrew is very hungry."
"I don't appreciate..." I began, but as I looked into the calm brown eyes across from me, I felt immediately guilty and petty. It was just a dinner roll. "Of course," I concluded, and reached for my glass. Before I could, however, another waiter reached forward, took the glass away and swallowed the wine in a single gulp.
"And his brother, Eric, is very thirsty." said the President.
I didn't say anything. The President is testing my compassion, I thought. I will play along. I don't want to seem unkind.
My plate was whisked away before I had tasted a bite.
"Eric's children are also quite hungry."
With a lurch, I crashed to the floor. My chair had been pulled out from under me. I stood, brushing myself off angrily, and watched as it was carried from the room.
"And their grandmother can't stand for long."
I excused myself, smiling outwardly, but inside feeling like a fool. Obviously I had been invited to the White House to be sport for some game. I reached for my coat, to find that it had been taken. I turned back to the President.
"Their grandfather doesn't like the cold."
I wanted to shout, "That was my coat!" But again, I looked at the placid smiling face of my host and decided I was being a poor sport. I spread my hands helplessly and chuckled.
Then I felt my hip pocket and realized my wallet was gone. I excused myself and walked to a phone on an elegant side table. I learned shortly that my credit cards had been maxed out, my bank accounts emptied, my retirement and equity portfolios had vanished, and my wife had been thrown out of our home. Apparently, the waiters and their families were moving in. The President hadn't moved or spoken as I learned all this, but finally I lowered the phone into its cradle and turned to face him.
"Andrew's whole family has made bad financial decisions. They haven't planned for retirement, and they need a house. They recently defaulted on a subprime mortgage. I told them they could have your home. They need it more than you do."
My hands were shaking. I felt faint. I stumbled back to the table and knelt on the floor. The President cheerfully cut his meat, ate his steak, and drank his wine. I lowered my eyes and stared at the small gray circles on the tablecloth that were water drops.
"By the way," He added, "I have just signed an Executive Order nationalizing your factories. I'm firing you as head of your business. I'll be operating the firm now for the benefit of all mankind. There's a whole bunch of Erics and Andrews out there and they can't come to you for jobs groveling like beggars."
I looked up. The President dropped his spoon into the empty ramekin which had been his crème Brule. He drained the last drops of his wine.
As the table was cleared, he lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair. He stared at me. I clung to the edge of the table as if it were a ledge and I were a man hanging over an abyss. I thought of the years behind me, of the life I had lived. The life I had earned with a lifetime of work, risk and struggle. Why was I punished? How had I allowed it to be taken? What game had I played and lost? I looked across the table and noticed with some surprise that there was no game board between us.
What had I done wrong?
As if answering the unspoken thought, the President suddenly cocked his head, locked his empty eyes to mine, and bared a million teeth, chuckling wryly as he folded his hands said,
"You should have stopped me at the dinner roll.”

On July 16th Harvard Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. was arrested by a Sergeant of the Cambridge Massachusetts Police Department for Disorderly Conduct. The case stirred nationwide attention this past week when President Obama commented on it. The President stated that the Cambridge Police Department had acted “stupidly” in reference to the arrest of Gates. It is obvious now, that the president should not have responded about this incident during a presidential press conference until he had all the facts. We should not single out the president however in his quick “uninformed” assessment of the arrest, because the current Governor of Massachusetts, Devel Patrick, took it a step further in the area of uninformed media response when he stated the arrest of Professor Gates was “Every Blackmans nightmare.” Both have since “toned” down their initial thoughts.

Race relations have been a huge issue in this country since its inception. America had a civil war with slavery being a central causation. In 1955 Rosa Parks was arrested in Montgomery Alabama for refusing to give up her seat to a white person on a city bus. Segregation of schools lasted until 1954. Virginia and South Carolina had laws preventing the marriage between blacks and whites until 1967. I would be the last to state that I am proud of all of America’s history, but I will always state that I am proud to be an American. All can say that America has experienced periods of inequality and injustice in its history, but no one can say that America has not attempted to learn from its past and correct its mistakes. And as some men have shown their pettiness and cruelty by acts of racism and prejudices, others have stood up and fought and died for the rights of all humans regardless of their ethnicity. Many whites were involved in the civil rights movement along with its black leaders, just as many non-whites have fought in the defense of America and have sacrificed much for this great country. Every time an incident happens that stirs great debate, we as Americans have to look upon the incident and judge it by the facts and not by emotion.

I believe President Obama, or Governor Patrick, should not have commented on the Gates incident until both had a firm grasp of the facts surrounding the case. Professor Gates is a friend of President Obama and I am sure he is a very good man, but that does not eliminate the fact that on July 16th Professor Gates could have been wrong for his actions. News reports tell us that both President Obama and Governor Patrick attempted to call Gates after the incident. There is nothing wrong with either of them giving a friend a call to offer support, but it is wrong to have emotion and uninformed comments made to media when both are expected to be leaders, and ensure that no one is judged erroneously. I believe the facts of the case have shown to most that Professor Gates lost emotional control during the incident and Sergeant James Crowley acted appropriately. Sergeant Crowley’s arrest has been supported by his department, and officers who were on the scene to include a black officer, Sergeant Leon Lashley.

President Obama has since spoken with Sergeant Crowley and an invitation to the white house may be extended to Crowley and Gates to discuss this matter with the President. I can understand why the Cambridge Police Chief may want to discuss it, the Major of Cambridge, or even Devel Patrick the Governor, but I can’t understand why the president wants to continue to address this matter. President Obama should just be honest and say he was wrong for speaking about the incident before he got the facts straight. Professor Gates will get his day in court and if need be a jury of his peers will decide his guilt or innocence based on the facts of the case. What will the president accomplish at the white house? It is an on-going case and I don’t know if it would be wise for Sergeant Crowley or the City of Cambridge to allow him to travel to the white house to discuss it. Professor Gates has secured an attorney, Charles Ogletree. Will Mr. Ogletree be there also? It is just ridiculous on how this has grown from a regional arrest and dispute to a nationwide, presidential matter.

I am in no way stating that complaints of police misconduct are never justified. We all know that the police profession is just like any other and has police officers that do wrong. For many years I have known and been acquainted with police officers, and I can truthfully say that the majority are good dedicated people that only want to serve the public the best they can. In everything that we have read concerning Sergeant Crowley it seems that he is not a bad cop, but rather the image of what a cop should be. He has a meritorious career and is well respected by his peers. He should not be judged by his actions as a “white” officer, but be judged by his actions as a “police” officer and on the totality of circumstances that are involved in the incident. Professor Gates was wrong. He acted in a manner that seems to have violated Massachusetts law and Sergeant Crowley acted as any sworn police officer should; he did his duty and made a lawful and needed arrest. The President of the United States should get the facts straight before passing judgment or rendering an opinion on things he evidently knows very little about, or maybe he should just stay out of it and concentrate on two wars, the economy, and over-hauling the health care system. Professor Gates deserves his day in court, but not his day at the white house. Right or wrong, that’s the way A.P. American sees it. Yeah baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(I was made aware of Col Grossman by a Cop/Marine..a Sheepdog they call Pappy)

One Vietnam veteran, an old retired colonel, once said this to me:
"Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident." They are sheep.
I mean nothing negative by calling them sheep. To me it is like the pretty, blue robin's egg. Inside it is soft and gooey but someday it will grow into something wonderful. But the egg cannot survive without its hard blue shell. Police officers, soldiers, and other warriors are like that shell, and someday the civilization they protect will grow into something wonderful.? For now, though, they need warriors to protect them from the predators.
"Then there are the wolves," the old war veteran said, "and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy." Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial.
"Then there are sheepdogs," he went on, "and I'm a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf."
If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen, a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath, a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens?
What do you have then? A sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the hero's path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed
Let me expand on this old soldier's excellent model of the sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. We know that the sheep live in denial, that is what makes them sheep. They do not want to believe that there is evil in the world. They can accept the fact that fires can happen, which is why they want fire extinguishers, fire sprinklers, fire alarms and fire exits throughout their kids' schools.
But many of them are outraged at the idea of putting an armed police officer in their kid's school. Our children are thousands of times more likely to be killed or seriously injured by school violence than fire, but the sheep's only response to the possibility of violence is denial.
The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, can not and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheep dog who intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed.
The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours.
Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind one lonely sheepdog.
A sheepdog is a funny critter: He is always sniffing around out on the perimeter, checking the breeze, barking at things that go bump in the night, and yearning for a righteous battle.
That is, the young sheepdogs yearn for a righteous battle. The old sheepdogs are a little older and wiser, but they move to the sound of the guns when needed right along with the young ones.
Here is how the sheep and the sheepdog think differently. The sheep pretend the wolf will never come, but the sheepdog lives for that day. After the attacks on September 11, 2001, most of the sheep, that is, most citizens in America said, "Thank God I wasn't on one of those planes." The sheepdogs, the warriors, said, "Dear God, I wish I could have been on one of those planes. Maybe I could have made a difference."
In nature the sheep, real sheep, are born as sheep. Sheepdogs are born that way, and so are wolves. They didn't have a choice. But you are not a critter. As a human being, you can be whatever you want to be. It is a conscious, moral decision.
If you want to be a sheep, then you can be a sheep and that is okay, but you must understand the price you pay. When the wolf comes, you and your loved ones are going to die if there is not a sheepdog there to protect you. If you want to be a wolf, you can be one, but the sheepdogs are going to hunt you down
and you will never have rest, safety, trust or love. But if you want to be a sheepdog and walk the warrior's path, then you must make a conscious and moral decision every day to dedicate, equip and prepare yourself to thrive in that toxic, corrosive moment when the wolf comes knocking at the door.
Their only response to the wolf, though, is denial, and all too often their response to the sheepdog is scorn and disdain
Since 9-11 almost everyone in America took a few steps toward accepting and appreciating their warriors, and the warriors started taking their job more seriously.
God in Heaven, help the sheepdog protect the sheep, and keep your mighty watchful eye on the sheepdog.

From: Teresa Bodine
Your President
Dear Moby,
I have listened to you for many years. I’d like to voice my opinion on something.
I heard you talk yesterday about “our President”, not “your President.”
How is that any different from what the Dixie Chicks said? Yet , you slam them unmercifully. You claim to be a patriot and then you condemn the president of this country. I know what you will do with this comment. You will read it and slam it and call me ignorant and liberal and all those names you have for Democrats. I don’t mind. I won’t be listening. However, Democrat or Republican, Obama is our President, not “my President” or “your President”.
Teresa
Teresa D. Bodine----

No Teresa, you're wrong. I'll not slam you for your opinion. Our opinions, at least for now, are still within our rights to express.
When our Republic is totally bankrupt, and we've lost our country because of what's being forced down America's throat in this administration,
I'll simply take a bit of comfort knowing I wasn't one of the lemmings that followed the pipe playing Marxist into the sea.
Then again, it doesn't matter to you what I do or say, because you "won't be listening".
The public opinion of the Dixie Chicks is permanently sealed. I played no role in that.
All radio research tells us that playing the Dixie Chicks would be a very bad mistake. I have not & will not "slam them unmercifully". As a matter of fact, I still miss them. I loved their music.
However, I'll miss the America we've known much more. I'll miss Capitalism and personal freedom. I'll miss what for well over 200 years has been the dream of our God-fearing founding fathers.
It's a ship that is almost lost on an ever darkening horizon.
How can we have simply given our nation away? How can we have allowed it to be sold off in large portions to the highest bidder?
The enemy is not only AT the gate, the gate has been breached, and it's only a matter of time.
I look at my 6 year old daughter, and think of her grandchildren. I'm fairly certain they not only will not be raised in a free & focused society where inspired, dedicated individuals can excel. They'll be raised as part of a dependent, unarmed population where the government controls us all, and differing opinions will not be tolerated. I only hope they're taught about how great America used to be.
Teresa, I'll end this by simply saying, "My God, I hope I'm wrong."
MOBY

Recently, in a large French city, a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym. It said: THIS SUMMER DO YOU WANT TO BE A MERMAID OR A WHALE?
A middle aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.

To Whom It May Concern: Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious
humans). They have an active sex life, they get pregnant and have adorable baby whales. They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing themselves with shrimp. They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Barren Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia. Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CDs. They are incredible creatures and virtually have no predators other than humans. They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world. Mermaids don't exist. If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis. Fish or human? They don't have a sex life because they kill men who get close to them not to mention how could they have sex? Therefore they do not have kids either. Not to mention who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store? The choice is perfectly clear to me; I want to be a whale. P.S. We are in an age when media puts into our heads the idea that only skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my kids, a good dinner with a man who makes me shiver and have a soda with my friends. With time we gain weight because we accumulate so much information and wisdom in our heads that when there is no more room, it distributes throughout the rest of our bodies. So, we aren't heavy, we are enormously cultured, educated and happy.

Beginning today, when I look at my butt in the mirror I will think, "Good gosh, look how smart I am."

We still live in the greatest country in the world. The United States is the great experiment in positive thinking; our entire system of government is based upon faith in the inherent goodness of the individual. It was a revolutionary idea more than 200 years ago when the Declaration of Independence was first signed. Borrowing from the greatest thinkers in history, our founding fathers established a form of government of the people that is today the model most imitated around the world. Economic and political conditions ebb and flow. But as long as we have a democratic society that celebrates the individual, we can achieve anything in life we desire. All you require to be successful in the United States is the desire to achieve success and the determination to stick with it until you reach your goals.

A young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it. Yes, they all agreed it truly was the most beautiful heart they had ever seen. The young man was very proud and boasted more loudly about his beautiful heart.
Suddenly, an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said "Why your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine." The crowd and the young man looked at the old man's heart. It was beating strongly, but full of scars, it had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in, but they didn't fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. In fact, in some places there were deep gouges where whole pieces were missing.
The people stared - how can he say his heart is more beautiful, they thought? The young man looked at the old man's heart and saw its state and laughed. "You must be joking," he said. "Compare your heart with mine, mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears."
"Yes," said the old man, "Yours is perfect looking but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love - I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them, and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in mine, but because the pieces aren't exact, I have some rough edges, which I cherish, because they remind me of the love we shared. Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away, and the other person hasn't returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges -- giving love is taking a chance.
Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too, and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?"
The young man stood silently. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man with trembling hands. The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man's heart. It fit, but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges. The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man's heart flowed into his. They embraced and walked away side by side.
How sad it must be to go through life with a whole untouched heart.

An eye witness account from New York City , on a cold day in December, some years ago: A little boy, about 10-years-old, was standing before a shoe store on the
roadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold. A lady approached the young boy and said, 'My, but you're in such deep thought staring in that window!'
'I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes,'was the boy's reply.
The lady took him by the hand, went into the store, and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly brought them to her.
She took the little fellow to the back part of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his little feet, and dried them with the towel.
By this time, the clerk had returned with the socks.. Placing a pair upon the boy's feet, she purchased him a pair of shoes..
She tied up the remaining pairs of socks and gave them to him.. She patted him on the head and said, 'No doubt, you will be more comfortable now.' As she turned to go, the astonished kid caught her by the hand, and looking up into her face, with tears in his eyes, asked her. 'Are you God's wife?'

There are many things in this life that can be so humbling as to bring us to our knees in thanksgiving and praise. For instance: a sunrise or sunset so beautiful we are compelled to park our car and sit quietly, soaking up the moment God had made just for us. None but God can create such wonders as a perfect rose, an unblemished butterfly, a forest of maple trees whose leaves have turned a brilliant red and are caressed by the cool autumn breeze. Not a day goes by that you cannot find at least one of His special gifts, if you will but open your mind, your eyes and your heart to Him.
Since having triple by-pass surgery in November of 2000, walking at a mall has become routine, covering three to four miles a day, six days a week. For some people this might seem incredibly tedious and mindlessly boring, but the 70 minutes a day has provided not only the exercise needed, but also a time for prayer, meditation, window-shopping and people watching; plus all the creature necessities: climate control, restroom, coffee, pastries, etc.
On a recent morning, about half way through the walk, I noticed a middle aged lady walking in the opposite direction with three young men in tow. Each of the men appeared to be in their 20s, and obviously very mentally and physically challenged. As the four passed by, oblivious to the stares of other people in the mall, one of the men fixed his eyes on mine and I immediately felt a surge of compassion, which in turn triggered thoughts of parents who have commented about their “special” children returning their love in ways never imagined: pure, total, spontaneous. And this thought in turn called to mind an incident related to me sometime back.
The incident took place during the Special Olympics a few years ago, and for you who have not attended such an event, please know that winning a contest is every bit as important to a “special” individual as it is to every other athlete. The contestants in the foot race were all lined up ready to start. The starter pistol was raised; fired; and the boys and girls took off running for the finish line just as fast as their abilities would allow. The crowd began yelling, clapping and shouting their encouragement. A short distance from the starting line a boy stumbled and fell to the ground; flat on his face. He looked up and saw the others running toward the finish line, and watched as they got further away from him. Broken hearted he put his face down in the dirt and began to cry. One of the runners looked back over her shoulder and saw the boy on the ground. She slowed down; stopped; turned around and started walking back towards the sobbing boy. Another runner saw her; stopped; turned around and walked back towards the boy on the ground. One by one each of the other runners did the same until all of them had formed a circle around the fallen boy. Without a word being spoken all the runners reached down and picked up the boy. Some brushed the dirt off his knees, some wiped the tears from his face and some patted his shoulders to let him know they cared and that everything would be OK. Then, they all turned and, hand-in-hand, walked to the finish line - all crossing it at the same time. By now the crowd was on its feet: cheering, clapping, & yelling. They knew they had been privileged to witness the true meaning of “Special Olympics”.
This beautiful story demonstrates the kind of unbounded love God has for each of us,. I had stopped walking long enough to watch the three “special” young men and their caretaker angel disappear down the corridor, when I became aware of music playing throughout the mall. The music seemed familiar… and after finally recognizing it I could only look up and thank God for the morning, for the “special” people, for the music, and for that moment that has, and will continue to have, a very special place in my life. I then continued my walk, but with a much different spirit than when I began.
Oh, by the way, in case you may be wondering, the music that began playing at that precise moment was…’Chariots of Fire.’

Clint Smith, Director of Thunder Ranch, is part drill Instructor, and
part stand up comic. Here are a few of his observations On tactics,
firearms, self defense and life as we know it in the civilized world.
"The two most important rules in a gunfight are: Always cheat And
always win."
"Don't forget, incoming fire has the right of way."
"Make your attacker advance through a wall of bullets. I may get
Killed with my own gun, but he's gonna have to beat me to death with
it, Cause it's going to be empty."
"If you're not shootin', you should be loadin'. If you're not Loadin,
you should be movin', if you're not movin', someone's gonna cut your
head off and put it on a stick."
"Do something. It may be wrong, but do something."
"Nothing adds a little class to a sniper course like a babe in a
Ghilliesuit."
"Shoot what's available, as long as it's available, until Something
else becomes available."
"Don't shoot fast, shoot good."
"You can say 'stop' or 'alto' or use any other word you think Will
work but I've found that a large bore muzzle pointed at someone's head
is pretty much the universal language."
"You have the rest of your life to solve your problems. How long You
live depends on how well you do it."
"You cannot save the planet. but you may be able to save yourself and your family."
"Thunder Ranch will be here as long as you'll have us or until someone
makes us go away and either way it will be exciting."
More Excellent Gun Wisdom....... The purpose of fighting is to Win.
There is no possible victory in defense.
The sword is more Important than the shield, and skill is more important
than either.
The final weapon is the brain. All else is supplemental.

It’s interesting to me to see the evolution of things in my lifetime. When I was growing up, there were three sources of broadcast news – CBS, NBC and ABC. They were characterized by their scrupulous reporting and impartiality. There was a time allotted for editorializing, but by and large the news was, as far as we knew, researched and accurate. Ted Turner changed things with CNN, the first 24-hour news channel. At the time I thought, how can you fill up 24 hours with news? At first, it was through repetition of the day’s top stories, but soon it became hour-long shows with different slants on the news. That splintered off into 24-hour channels about every topic you could think of, from movies to fishing to golf, etc. And the news channels themselves became more or less entertainment channels and in an effort to differentiate themselves, opinion channels. Our participation in the social aspect of the internet has introduced another change. Our opinions are the news. The facts of what has happened take only a fraction of the day to report. But our reaction to the event can provide a week’s worth of opinions, debate, and ranting. That’s where the money is. And by keeping themselves in the black this way, the news channels (in my opinion) are encouraging us to shout louder and be a part of an ever smaller community – those people who only share our opinions. So, at the same time that the internet has brought us together globally, it has also helped foster a splintering that is driven by our desire to be respected for our uniqueness.

A friend of mine lost his mother on Friday. She had suffered a major heart attack several days ago and had been on life support. He was notified a few days after she had the heart attack and he called home and spoke with his father. During the conversation he told his father that he would be there as soon as he could, but it may take several days. His father told him he understood, and to get there as soon as possible because his mother was fading. My friend did not made it home in time to see his mother alive one last time. She died, and of this writing my friend is still attempting to get there. Hopefully, he will arrive home on Monday or Tuesday. He was not by his mother’s side at the hospital because he was in Afghanistan serving his country with the military. My prayers go out to him and his family during this sad time.

Sometimes we don’t understand the sacrifices our military men and women make while serving America. Their sacrifices go much deeper than not being home during holidays, or living in a war zone. They are all soldiers, marines, sailors and airmen, but they are also dads, husbands, mothers, wives, sons and daughters. While their primary concentration may be surviving and fighting a war, they also face the same problems we all face in reference to family issues, financial problems and emotional situations. While most reading this are only a short drive, or a phone call away, from addressing the many issues of life, this is not the case with our military personnel in Iraq and Afghanistan.

I remember a young man who I served with in Afghanistan calling home and speaking with his wife. We were scheduled to travel to an isolated area of Afghanistan and communication with loved ones would not be an option. During the conversation she told him she was having doubts about their marriage and may not be there when he got back. The young man was devastated and wished that he could speak to her face to face, but that can’t happen when you are separated by 8000 miles and a 16 hour plane fight. It also does not help when your 15 minute MWR call is up in the middle of a conversation concerning the rest of your life. It was very hard for him to do his mission and find some way to hide the emotional turmoil I knew he was feeling inside. He did it, but I wonder if I could have. Could you?

I also remember another soldier who shared my tent in Iraq. His parents were elderly and lived alone. He had spoken with his father who had told him his car would not start. His father was attempting to go to the drug store and get a prescription filled. The soldier, from a phone in Iraq, called AAA in America, and initiated a work order to have AAA go out and get his father’s car started. The call to AAA was made from a soldier who was worried about this parents, but also from a soldier who had just gotten back in from a 19 hour patrol and had lost a couple of buddies from an IED blast.

We all go through the trials and tribulations of life. We talk to our son when his first love has given him his first broken heart. We give our daughter the “do better” speech when her grades are not up to par. We give support to loved ones when some type of tragedy strikes. We worry about the finances and how the bills will get paid. But, we don’t all do this while we are in a military uniform fighting a war. It takes a special person to fight life and a war at the same time. So next time you see one of our brave men or women who are serving this great country, please remember the tremendous pressures they are under as a military person, and as an adult addressing life’s issues. Sacrifices are made by them in many different ways every day. God bless them. Right or wrong, that’s the way A.P. American sees it. Yeah baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

There are taller buildings... but shorter tempers;
Wider freeways... but narrower viewpoints.
We spend more... but have less;
We buy more... but enjoy it less.
We have bigger houses... and smaller families;
More conveniences... but less time.
We have more degrees... but less sense;
More knowledge... but less judgement;
More experts... but more problems;
More medicine... but less wellness.
We have multiplied our possessions... but reduced our values.
We talk too much, love too seldom... and hate too often.
We have learned how to make a living... but not a life.
We've added years to life... but not life to years.
We've been all the way to the moon and back...
But we have difficulty crossing the street to meet the neighbors.
We've conquered outer space... but not our inner space.
We've cleaned the air... but polluted the soul.
We have split the atom... but not our prejudice.
We have higher incomes... but lower morals.
We've become long on quantity... but short on quality.
These are the times of tall men... and short character;
Of steep profits... and shallow relationships.
These are times of world peace... but domestic warfare.
These are days of more leisure... but less fun;
Of more kinds of food... but less nutrition.
These are days of two incomes... but more divorce;
Of fancier houses... but broken homes.
We can choose to ignore these sad facts of life...
Or we can choose to make a difference.
Christ has no body on earth but ours,
He has no hands but our hands...
We have only one life, which soon will pass,
And those acts we perform for Christ are the only that will last!
We must sacrifice ourselves for souls!

Okay, I need to rant. I was just watching the news, and I caught part of a report on Michael Jackson. As we all know, Jackson died the other day.
I understand that his death would affect a lot of people, and I respect those people who mourn his death, but that isn't the point of my rant.
When a man dies whose contribution to the country was to ENTERTAIN people, the American people find the need to flock to a memorial in Hollywood, and even Congress sees the need to hold a "moment of silence" for his passing?
Am I missing something here? All of a sudden he's a freaking martyr because he entertained us?
What about all those SOLDIERS who have died to give us freedom? All those Soldiers who, knowing that they would be asked to fight in a war, still raised their hands and swore to defend the Constitution and the United States of America. Where is their moment of silence?
Where aren’t the people flocking to their graves or memorials and mourning over them?
Why is it when a Soldier dies, there are more people saying "good riddance," and "thank
God for IEDs?" When did this country become so calloused to the sacrifice of GOOD MEN and WOMEN, that they can arbitrarily ignore their deaths, and instead, throw themselves into mourning for a "Pop Icon?"
I think that if they are going to hold a moment of silence IN CONGRESS for Michael Jackson, they need to hold a moment of silence for every service member killed in Iraq and Afghanistan.
We will never make millions of dollars. We will never star in movies, or write hit songs that the world will listen too.
We only shed our blood, sweat and tears so that people can enjoy what they have.
Remember these five words the next time you think of someone who is serving in the military; "So that others may live..." Only two people have ever effectively given their lives for you.
Jesus Christ and The American G.I.
One died for your sins, the other died to give you freedom.


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

I agree with everything you've written except this line. <Why is it when a Soldier dies, there are more people saying "good riddance," and "thank God for IEDs?" >
MOST people do not feel that way. I'll use this as a Soap Box, but I will not include this line unchallenged.
Blame the modern day media, & ratings, & ad sales for the sensationalistic coverage of people with this, at the very least, unpopular viewpoint.
It gets down to how media executives with little if any true love of, and devotion to, our country can make a quick buck in the early stages of the 21st century.
Granted, there are a small percentage among us that might believe it's "good" when a soldier dies, but you know what,
that soldier died to protect every American's right to feel any way they choose. Those people are delusional idiots, and we must allow them the right to be wrong. That's called freedom. Freedom means the God given right to feel and believe any way you like. But we seem to forget that as Americans we have the right to let our opposition to lunacy be loudly known. Many do voice that opposition, but the clown draws a bigger crowd, so that's where the news crews are dispatched.
Our main problem is our apathy and distraction. Too many otherwise good Americans allow themselves a set of misplaced priorities. and neglect the need to stand shoulder to shoulder with our hands solemnly over our hearts giving thanks to almighty God, and pledging allegience to America, for our rights and our freedoms, while expressing unwavering gratitude for the soldiers standing quietly in the field between good and evil, between right and wrong, between day and night.
In my house, we are well aware of the faithful guard dogs that stand between the wolves and the flock.
MOBY

 Seen and heard worldwide from Los Angeles ... An estimated 20,000 people were in the Staples Center as Jackson's golden, flower-draped casket was brought to the venue in a motorcade under law enforcement escort.
OK!! That’s enough. Agree?!?
I don’t know a single American that doesn’t think this whole $2.5 million memorial was anything but a massive waste of valuable time and limited resources, not only for bankrupt California, but for America in general, and at a time when we’re at dire risk of losing most everything that has made America great for 233 years.
There’s no leader, and certainly no entertainer among us whose passing would change or threaten the course of peril we find ourselves in.
Yes, Michael Jackson’s dead. I’m not glad, but I’m absolutely ambivalent. And you know what, one day without exception; every set of ears within the sound of my voice will hear the trumpets of the angels. As difficult as it is to conceive, we are all going to die. Not one among us will escape the grave that lies before us. What our reward or punishment will be in eternity isn’t up to us, or anyone that attends our memorials. Now, regardless of Michael Jackson’s morality or lack of morality, regardless of his guilt or innocence of whether he spent a good portion of his adult life behaving inappropriately with children. All that is behind us now. Can we all please move on? The business of trying to save our nation and the future for generations to come is at risk, and we’ve wasted two weeks paying tribute to a guy that danced well.

Blessed be innocence, smiles from the heart,

Small dimpled fingers that take things apart,

Noses that wrinkle at spinach and such,

Eyes filled with wonder for they see so much.

Blessed be questions with no easy answers,

Bubble-bath swimmers and mud-puddle dancers,

Climbers and diggers and builders and bakers,

Dreamers and gigglers and up-at-dawn wakers.

Hearts that are gentle, wills that are strong,

Minds learning left from right and right from wrong

Blessed be hugs that wrap around your knees,

Sweet angel voices that sigh "Once more, Please?"

Blessed be, "Read me a story" and then,

Blessed be each whispered, "Bless me...Amen."

Blessed be sleepy eyes, each little yawn...

Blessed be childhood before it is gone.

I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes.
I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprizing a basket of freshly picked green peas.
I paid for my potatoes, but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas.
I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me.
'Hello Barry, how are you today?'
'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good..'
'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?'
'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.'
'Good. Anything I can help you with?'
'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.'
'Would you like take some home?' asked Mr. Miller.
'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.'
'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?'
'All I got's my prize marble here.'
'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller.
'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.'
'I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked.
'Not zackley but almost.'
'Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble', Mr. Miller told the boy.
'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.'
Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me.
With a smile said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever.
When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.'
I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man.
A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles.
Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one.
Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died.
They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.
Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could.
Ahead of us in line were three young men.
One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts....all very professional looking.
They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket.
Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket.
Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket.
Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes.
Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles...
With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket.
'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded'20them.
Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size...they came to pay their debt.'
'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho '.
With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles.
The Moral : We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath.

Just a reminder as to the real reason why we celebrate the 4th of July.
God bless America and our military men and women, as well as their families.
Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men who signed the Declaration of Independence?
Five signers were captured by the British as traitors, and tortured before they died.
Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned. Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army; another had two sons captured. Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or hardships of the Revolutionary War.
They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor. What kind of men were they?
Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists. Eleven were merchants, nine were farmers and large plantation owners; men of means, well educated, but they signed the Declaration of Independence knowing full well that the penalty would be death if they were captured.
Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the British Navy. He sold his home and properties to pay his debts, and died in rags.
Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British that he was forced to move his family almost constantly. He served in the Congress without pay, and his family
was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him, and poverty was his reward.
Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer, Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton. At the battle of Yorktown Thomas Nelson, Jr., noted that the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson
home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General George Washington to open fire.
The home was destroyed, and Nelson died bankrupt.
Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed. The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months. John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying. Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill
were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his children vanished.
So, take a few minutes while enjoying your 4th of July holiday and silently thank these patriots. It's not much to ask for the price they paid.
Remember: freedom is never free!

Some years ago, on a hot summer day in South Florida, a little boy decided to go for a swim in the old swimming hole behind his house. In a hurry to dive into the cool water, he ran out the back door, leaving behind shoes, socks, and shirt as he went. He flew into the water, not realizing that as he swam toward the middle of the lake, an alligator was swimming toward the shore..

His father, working in the yard, saw the two as they got closer and closer together. In utter fear, he ran toward the water, yelling to his son as loudly as he could. Hearing his voice, the little boy became alarmed and made a U-turn to swim to his father.
It was too late. Just as he reached his father, the alligator reached him. From the dock, the father grabbed his little boy by the arms just as the alligator snatched his legs... That began an incredible tug-of-war between the two. The alligator was much stronger than the father, but the father was much too passionate to let go. A farmer happened to drive by, heard his screams, raced from his truck, took aim and shot the alligator.
Remarkably, after weeks and weeks in the hospital, the little boy survived. His legs were extremely scarred by the vicious attack of the animal. And, on his arms, were deep scratches where his father's fingernails dug into his flesh in his effort to hang on to the son he loved.

The newspaper reporter, who interviewed the boy after the trauma, asked if he would show him his scars. The boy lifted his pant legs. And then, with obvious pride, he said to the reporter, 'But look at my arms. I have great scars on my arms, too. I have them because my Dad wouldn't let go.' You and I can identify with that little boy.
We have scars, too; no not from an alligator, but the scars of a painful past. Some of those scars are unsightly and have caused us deep regret. But, some wounds, my friend, are because God has refused to let go.

In the midst of your struggle, He's been there holding on to you... The Scripture teaches that God loves you. You are a child of God. He wants to protect you and provide for you in every way. But sometimes we foolishly wade into dangerous situations, not knowing what lies ahead. The swimming hole of life is filled with peril - and we forget that the enemy (Satan) is waiting to attack. That's when the tug-of-war begins - and if you have the scars of His love on your arms, be very, very grateful. He did not and will not ever let you go.

A very timely analysis since Obama met with the AMA !

BEST ANALYSIS I HAVE HEARD YET!!! But cleaned up a bit to keep worst case a PG rating.

The American Medical Association has weighed in on the new economic stimulus package.
The Allergists voted to scratch it, but the
Dermatologists advised not to make any rash moves.
The Gastroenterologists had sort of a gut feeling about it, but the
Neurologists thought the Administration had a lot of nerve.
The Obstetricians felt they were all laboring under a misconception.
Ophthalmologists considered the idea shortsighted.
Pathologists yelled, "Over my dead body!"
while the Pediatricians said, 'Oh, Grow up!'
The Psychiatrists thought the whole idea was madness, while the
Radiologists could see right through it.
Surgeons decided to wash their hands of the whole thing.
The Internists thought it was a bitter pill to swallow,
and the Plastic Surgeons said, "This puts a whole new face on the matter."
The Podiatrists thought it was a step forward,
but the Urologists were “peed” off at the whole idea.
The Anesthesiologists thought the whole idea was a gas,
and the Cardiologists didn't have the heart to say no.
In the end, the Proctologists won out, leaving the entire decision up to
the “donkey” holes in Washington.