WW II Battleship sailor tells Obama to shape up or ship out!
This venerable and much honored WW II vet is well known in Hawaii for his seventy-plus years of service to patriotic organizations and causes all over the country. A humble man without a political bone in his body, he has never spoken out before about a government official, until now.
He dictated this letter to a friend, signed it and mailed it to the president.
Dear President Obama,
My name is Harold Estes, approaching 95 on December 13 of this year. People meeting me for the first time don't believe my age because I remain wrinkle free and pretty much mentally alert.
I enlisted in the U.S. Navy in 1934 and served proudly before, during and after WW II retiring as a Master Chief Bos'n Mate. Now I live in a "rest home" located on the western end of Pearl Harbor, allowing me to keep alive the memories of 23 years of service to my country.
One of the benefits of my age, perhaps the only one, is to speak my mind, blunt and direct even to the head man.
So here goes.
I am amazed, angry and determined not to see my country die before I do, but you seem hell bent not to grant me that wish.
I can't figure out what country you are the president of. You fly around the world telling our friends and enemies despicable lies like:
" We're no longer a Christian nation " America is arrogant" - (Your wife even announced to the world, "America is mean-spirited. " Please tell her to try preaching that nonsense to 23 generations of our war dead buried all over the globe who died for no other reason than to free a whole lot of strangers from tyranny and hopelessness.)
I'd say shame on the both of you, but I don't think you like America, nor do I see an ounce of gratefulness in anything you do, for the obvious gifts this country has given you. To be without shame or gratefulness is a
dangerous thing for a man sitting in the White House.
After 9/11 you said," America hasn't lived up to her ideals."
Which ones did you mean? Was it the notion of personal liberty that 11,000 farmers and shopkeepers died for to win independence from the British? Or maybe the ideal that no man should be a slave to another
man, that 500,000 men died for in the Civil War? I hope you didn't mean the ideal 470,000 fathers, brothers, husbands, and a lot of fellas I knew personally died for in WWII, because we felt real strongly about not letting any nation push us around, because we stand for freedom.
I don't think you mean the ideal that says equality is better than discrimination. You know the one that a whole lot of white people understood when they helped to get you elected. Take a little advice from a very old geezer, young man.
Shape up and start acting like an American. If you don't, I'll do what I can to see you get shipped out of that fancy rental on Pennsylvania Avenue. You were elected to lead not to bow, apologize and kiss the hands of
murderers and corrupt leaders who still treat their people like slaves.
And just who do you think you are telling the American people not to jump to conclusions and condemn that Muslim major who killed 13 of his fellow soldiers and wounded dozens more. You mean you don't want us to do what you did when that white cop used force to subdue that black college professor in Massachusetts, who was putting up a fight? You don't mind offending the police calling them stupid but you don't want us to offend Muslim fanatics by calling them what they are, terrorists.
One more thing. I realize you never served in the military and never had to defend your country with your life, but you're the Commander-in-Chief now, son. Do your job. When your battle-hardened field General
asks you for 40,000 more troops to complete the mission, give them to him. But if you're not in this fight to win, then get out. The life of one American soldier is not worth the best political strategy you're thinking of.
You could be our greatest president because you face the greatest challenge ever presented to any president.
You're not going to restore American greatness by bringing back our bloated economy. That's not our greatest threat. Losing the heart and soul of who we are as Americans is our big fight now.
And I sure as hell don't want to think my president is the enemy in this final battle.
Sincerely, Harold B. Estes
When a 95 year old hero of the "the Greatest Generation" stands up and speaks out like this, I think we
owe it to him to send his words to as many Americans as we can. FREEDOM IS NOT FREE

I Just Want To Thank You Lord Dear Lord, I look at all the earthly wonders that I see, And know the greatest wonder is that You have chosen me, And loved me with a love so strong, mere words cannot express The depth of Your great majesty, and awesome holiness. The beauties of this earth are many flowers, and grass, and trees; And looking at their matchless splendor brings me to my knees, In gratitude and thankfulness for blessings that are mine, And for the table You’ve prepared for me to come and dine. You've given me a home on earth where I stay warm and dry, But tell me You’re preparing me a mansion in the sky. And when I stop to wash the sweat from toil throughout the day, I praise You for the precious blood that washed my sins away. And even when the storm clouds threaten to destroy my peace, I know that You can calm the waves, and make the billows cease. So I just want to thank you, Lord, for all that You have done, But most of all, I thank You for salvation through Your Son.

A young man, a student in one of our universities, was one day taking a walk with a professor, who was commonly called the students' friend, from his kindness to those who waited on his instructions.

As they went along, they saw lying in the path a pair of old shoes, which they supposed to belong to a poor man who was employed in a field close by, and who had nearly finished his day's work.

The student turned to the professor, saying: "Let us play the man a trick: we will hide his shoes, and conceal ourselves behind those bushes, and wait to see his perplexity when he cannot find them."

"My young friend," answered the professor, "we should never amuse ourselves at the expense of the poor. But you are rich, and may give yourself a much greater pleasure by means of the poor man. Put a coin into each shoe, and then we will hide ourselves and watch how the discovery affects him."

The student did so, and they both placed themselves behind the bushes close by.

The poor man soon finished his work, and came across the field to the path where he had left his coat and shoes. While putting on his coat he slipped his foot into one of his shoes; but feeling something hard, he stooped down to feel what it was, and found the coin.

Astonishment and wonder were seen upon his countenance. He gazed upon the coin, turned it round, and looked at it again and again. He then looked around him on all sides, but no person was to be seen. He now put the money into his pocket, and proceeded to put on the other shoe; but his surprise was doubled on finding the other coin.

His feelings overcame him; he fell upon his knees, looked up to heaven and uttered aloud a fervent thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife, sick and helpless, and his children without bread, whom the timely bounty, from some unknown hand, would save from perishing.

The student stood there deeply affected, and his eyes filled with tears. "Now," said the professor, "are you not much better pleased than if you had played your intended trick?"

The youth replied, "You have taught me a lesson which I will never forget. I feel now the truth of those words, which I never understood before: 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'"

-- Author Unknown

"During my last night's shift in the ER, I had the pleasure of evaluating a patient with a shiny new gold tooth, multiple elaborate tattoos, a very expensive brand of tennis shoes and a new cellular telephone equipped with her favorite R&B tune for a ringtone.

Glancing over the chart, one could not help noticing her payer status: Medicaid.
She smokes more than one costly pack of cigarettes every day and, somehow, still has money to buy beer.

And our president expects me to pay for this woman's health care?

Our nation's health care crisis is not a shortage of quality hospitals, doctors or nurses. It is a crisis of culture - a culture in which it is perfectly acceptable to spend money on vices while refusing to take care of one's self or, heaven forbid, purchase health insurance. A culture that thinks "I can do whatever I want to because someone else will always take care of me".

Life is really not that hard. Most of us reap what we sow.

STARNER JONES,MD

My take on all this is as follows.

Given her lifestyle, she won’t have a normal life-span to be a drain on the system. So, if she’s happy with the choices she’s made, so be it.

But check her family background, and see if she’s a multigenerational system dependent.
If she is, put her on strict “get your life together” probation. Require her to pass drug, alcohol and tobacco tests. If she breaks that probation, tie her tubes, and don’t allow her to reproduce.

As it is with the rest of us that enjoy the liberty won for us in these United States, she’s free to make her own choices.

But if those choices lead to another welfare generation in the wake of her that will also be dependent for their meals and care, we as a nation need to intervene. We need to break this chain of dependence we’ve allowed society to enable over the past several generations.

We must embrace and care for the impoverished. God love the poor among us. But if it’s self-imposed, and has been in previous generations of a drunken, drug influenced family history, we as a free nation must intervene to elevate us all.

A radicalized Muslim US Army officer shouting "Allahu Akbar!" committed the worst act of terror on American soil since 9/11. And no one wants to call it an act of terror or associate it with Islam.
What cowards we are.

Political correctness killed those patriotic Americans at Ft. Hood as surely as the Islamist gunman did. And the media treat it like a case of non-denominational shoplifting.

This was a terrorist act. When an extremist plans and executes a murderous plot against our unarmed soldiers to protest our efforts to counter Islamist fanatics, it’s an act of terror. Period!!

When the terrorist posts anti-American hate-speech on the Web; apparently praises suicide bombers and uses his own name; loudly criticizes US policies; argues (as a psychiatrist, no less) with his military patients over the worth of their sacrifices; refuses, in the name of Islam, to be photographed with female colleagues; lists his nationality as "Palestinian" in a Muslim spouse-matching program, and parades around central Texas in a fundamentalist playsuit — well, it only seems fair to call this terrorist an "Islamist terrorist."

But the president won’t. Despite his promise to get to all the facts. Because there’s no such thing as "Islamist terrorism" in ObamaWorld.

And the Army won’t. Because its senior leaders are so sick with political correctness that pandering to America-haters is safer than calling terrorism "terrorism."

And the media won’t. Because they have more interest in the shooter than in our troops — despite their crocodile tears.

Maj. Nadal Malik Hasan planned this terrorist attack and executed it in cold blood. The resulting massacre was the first tragedy. The second was that he wasn’t killed on the spot.

Hasan survived. Now the rest of us will have to foot his massive medical bills.

Activist lawyers will get involved, claiming "harassment" drove him temporarily insane. There’ll be no end of trial delays. At best, taxpayer dollars will fund his prison lifestyle for decades to come, since our politically correct Army leadership wouldn’t dare pursue or carry out the death penalty.

Maj. Hasan will be a hero to Islamist terrorists abroad and their sympathizers here. While US Muslim organizations decry his acts publicly, Hasan will be praised privately. And he’ll have the last laugh.
But Hasan isn’t the sole guilty party. The US Army’s unforgivable political correctness is also to blame for the casualties at Ft. Hood.

Given the myriad warning signs, it’s appalling that no action was taken against a man apparently known to praise suicide bombers and openly damn US policy.

But no officer in his chain of command, either at Walter Reed Army Medical Center or at Ft. Hood, had the guts to take meaningful action against a dysfunctional soldier and an incompetent doctor.
Had Hasan been a Lutheran or a Methodist, he would’ve been gone. But officers fear charges of discrimination when faced with misconduct among protected minorities.

Now 12 soldiers and a security guard lie dead. 31 soldiers were wounded, 28 of them seriously. If heads don’t roll in this maggot’s chain of command, the Army will have shamed itself beyond moral redemption.

There’s another important issue, too. How could the Army allow an obviously incompetent and dysfunctional psychiatrist to treat our troubled soldiers returning from war? An Islamist whacko is counseled for arguing with veterans who’ve been assigned to his care? And he’s not removed from duty? What planet does the Army live on?

For the first time since I joined the Army in 1976, I’m ashamed of its dereliction of duty. The chain of command protected a budding terrorist who was waving one red flag after another, because it was safer for careers than doing something about him.

We’ve already heard from the terrorist’s family that "he’s a good American." In their world, maybe he is.
But when do we, the American public, knock off the PC nonsense?

A disgruntled Muslim soldier murdered his officers way back in 2003, in Kuwait, on the eve of Operation Iraqi Freedom. Recently? An American mullah shoots it out with the feds in Detroit. A Muslim fanatic attacks an Arkansas recruiting station. A Muslim media owner, after playing the peace card, beheads his wife. A Muslim father runs over his daughter because she’s becoming too Westernized.

Muslim terrorist wannabes are busted again and again. And we’re assured that "Islam’s a religion of peace."

I guarantee you that the Obama administration’s non-response to the Ft. Hood attack will mock the memory of our dead.

I, against my will, have to listen to your station at least 2 to 4 times a week. I hate today's "country" music; it is just stupid. With that said, I don't think you realize (or you don't care) how many people you offend by bragging about shooting down a defenseless animal. Then you brag about putting it's head on your wall, like it makes you some kind of big man.
You might be a true patriot if the deer was armed with a 12 or 16 ga shotgun and able to return fire. What you do IS NOT a sport, it is killing animals for NO good reason. Before you think I am some left liberal loon, I am not. I am a conservative and have been all my life. I was also raised on a farm so I am not a no nothing city girl. I guess if you just have to gun down innocent animals, then have the decency to discontinue bragging about it and just keep it to yourself. Some of US forced listeners find it repugnant.
Pam

Pam, you're not gonna be very happy with my response to your email, but you're already mad at me, and think me repugnant. So, what have I got to lose?
The really wonderful thing that remains true about our country, darlin', is our ability to hold different opinions, and still accurately consider ourselves patriotic Americans.
What ever you do, honey, never visit the Trophy page of mobyinthemorning.com There's a whole slew of what you'd call repugnant people there. Personally, I call them good ol' boys & girls that, like me, enjoy watching the world come alive at the beginning of the day, and return to rest at sunset, with hope that an animal we want to harvest has the misfortune to come within range.
When I see a White Tail with a weapon of any sort, sugar, and can document it, that'll be the day I'll retire. I'd sell that story to an outdoor magazine.
There'd be some big money there for sure. I'm fairly certain the deer would be a hardened criminal, because where would he get the money to buy a gun?
We could only assume he stole that gun he possessed, and take appropriate action, as we would with any fleeing felon. I can show you the receipt for my guns. When Bambi can do that, I'll let him &His grandpa walk away undeterred. But a good number of his close relatives would still be toast.
Pam, unless you're a Vegan or devout vegetarian, you have to know that in the pen on that farm where you were raised, all the little piggies or moo cows died.
In the woods, hunters see many more deer than they ever take a shot at. That's simply management of the herd.
And Pam, the deer (or whatever game is being pursued) don't die for nothing. There's more venison in my freezer than there ever is beef. We eat it several times a week, and most of it came from white tail deer whose heads weren't put on my wall. That space is reserved for trophies. I know you wouldn't come, but I'd like to invite you for Venison Cube Steak, or my Venison meatloaf, or any of the wide variety of dishes that without the Great American White Tail deer, we'd have to slaughter cattle for.
Pam, whether you agree or not, hunting is a wise, skilled, & traditional effort of the very people that won folks like you & me our right to disagree.
You hope I don't get a wallhanger this season, and I'll hope I do.
In all odds, given my history, at the end of the season, you'll have the last laugh.
But you can bet I'll be back in the woods next season, and I'll still be sharing hunting stories with the radio family. Yep, I'm hopelessly and unrepentantly repugnant.
The trophy buck in my front yard Sunday afternoon, is still in the neighborhood, and I hope he doesn't make a victim of someone you & I love on the highway.
That's where most of them are killed, you know. Ohh, those shameless, and repugnant drivers.
You still mad? I thought so.
Yeah baby, MOBY

Who have we put in office that will carry that banner forward?
But I will, with forethought, leave out the word "peacefully".
While I agree that the 2010 election cycle might be our "last chance to save her". The thought of armed revolution is nation-ending mistake I choose not to threaten to participate in at this time.
Honestly, if ever on my lifetime.
It gives the good guys the appearance of the "Radical Right".
My mouth to God's ears, we saw the pendulum begin to swing back in the elections across our nation 2 weeks ago.
Citizens at the ballot box, and patriots gathering in unbelievable masses is the only answer.
Armed revolution should never & can never be viewed as the solution to our current crisis.
The will of the people, the focus and determination of right-minded leaders, and the grace and blessings of the God of our founders, who has blessed us since our conception, is the only way to turn all this around, and rescue our ship of state from the precipice we all seem to agree we're headed towards at break-neck speed..
We've grown to where we are as a united nation because the system works. We've certainly made mistakes, and turned wrong corners as a nation. Granted our current situation is one of the biggest "wrong turns" in our history as a capitalist republic, but to talk of more than allowing the cycle to come back around to the constitutional vision of those that constructed this nation is not a wagon I choose to to board.
Our task, as devoted and dedicated patriots, as thinkers in the mindset of those that have come before us, is to solve our crisis in the way they would request & require of us.
The blood for our freedom has already been shed. The sweat of our brow, and the focused determination of our spirit is now what's required.
A suggestion that the resolution might need be by other than peaceful means is based solely in anger, and not logic or patriotism. When we stop talking, thinking & negotiating, we've ALL lost.
"A house divided against itself cannot stand." Abraham Lincoln

Last Saturday I attended the Georgia Sweet Potato Festival held in Ocilla.
I got there in time to get a good seat to see the parade.
I met my daughter and her family there and we made it a "family" event.
The streets were lined on both sides with moms and dads, and especially children waiting with their Halloween bags to collect the candy thrown by the parade participants.
Everyone was sitting in the hot sun and enjoying the motorcycles, tractors, old cars, etc. when I heard the sound of a band approaching.
As I looked south, I realized that the Marine Band from Albany, Georgia was marching toward me and I felt the tears fill my eyes as I rose to pay my respects to the men and women of our armed forces which were represented by these musicians. Before I could put my hands together to applaud, I realized that I was not the only one standing.
My daughter and her family stood; the people in front of me stood; and as I looked back along the parade route, I saw that almost everyone was standing and clapping their hands as the Marine band marched in front of them.
The applause was so loud that it almost drowned out the band itself. As the band passed by, the clapping around me died down but I could hear it taken up again by the patriots further along the street as the band came toward and passed them. It was a wonderful feeling and one I shall not forget.
We in "small town" America haven't forgotten what our military has done for us and is doing at this very moment.
I bowed my head and prayed in thanksgiving for their sacrifices and for protection for those in harm's way.
God Bless America!

Alice Harris
Alapaha, GA

Last Saturday I attended the Georgia Sweet Potato Festival held in Ocilla.
I got there in time to get a good seat to see the parade.
I met my daughter and her family there and we made it a "family" event.
The streets were lined on both sides with moms and dads, and especially children waiting with their Halloween bags to collect the candy thrown by the parade participants.
Everyone was sitting in the hot sun and enjoying the motorcycles, tractors, old cars, etc. when I heard the sound of a band approaching.
As I looked south, I realized that the Marine Band from Albany, Georgia was marching toward me and I felt the tears fill my eyes as I rose to pay my respects to the men and women of our armed forces which were represented by these musicians. Before I could put my hands together to applaud, I realized that I was not the only one standing.
My daughter and her family stood; the people in front of me stood; and as I looked back along the parade route, I saw that almost everyone was standing and clapping their hands as the Marine band marched in front of them.
The applause was so loud that it almost drowned out the band itself. As the band passed by, the clapping around me died down but I could hear it taken up again by the patriots further along the street as the band came toward and passed them. It was a wonderful feeling and one I shall not forget.
We in "small town" America haven't forgotten what our military has done for us and is doing at this very moment.
I bowed my head and prayed in thanksgiving for their sacrifices and for protection for those in harm's way.
God Bless America!

Alice Harris
Alapaha, GA

John was a salesman's delight when it came to any kind of gimmicks. His wife Marsha had given up trying to get him to change. One day John came home with ]a robot that John claimed was actually a lie detector.
It was about 5:30 that afternoon when Tommy, their 12 year old, returned home from school, over 2 hours late.
John asked "Where have you been? Why are you over 2 hours late getting home?" "Several of us went to the library to work on an extra credit project,"
The robot walked around the table and slapped Tommy, knocking him completely out of his chair.
"Son," said John , "this robot is a lie detector, now tell us where you really were after school."
"We went to Bobby's house and watched a movie." said Tommy.
Mama asked "What did you watch?"
"The Ten Commandments,"
The robot went around to Tommy and once again slapped him, knocking him off his chair. With his lip quivering, Tommy got up, sat down and said, "I am sorry I lied. We really watched a tape called Sex Queen."
"I am ashamed of you son," said John . "When I was your age, I never lied to my parents."
The robot walked around and knocked John him out of his chair.
Marsha was almost in tears and said, "Boy, did you ever ask for that one! You can't be too mad with Tommy. After all, he is your son!"
The robot walked around to Marsha and knocked her out of her chair.

Dear Mr. Moby
I am a Desert Shield/ Desert Storm veteran from Rome and I came across this a few days ago. I first saw this on a dorm wall while in basic training and I think it would be a very appropriate soap box for Veterans Day.
I watched the flag pass by one day, it fluttered in the breeze.
A young Marine saluted it, and then he stood "at ease"
I looked at him in uniform, so young, so tall, so proud
With hair cut square and eyes alert, He'd stand out in any crowd.
I wondered how many men like him, had fallen through the years
How many died on foreign soil, How many mother's tears
How many pilots planes shot down, How many died at sea
How many foxholes were soldiers graves, No FREEDOM ISN'T FREE.
I heard the sound of "TAPS" one night, when everything was still.
I listened to the bugler play, and felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many times, that "TAPS" had meant "AMEN"
When a flag had covered the coffin, of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children, The mothers and the wives
of fathers sons and husbands, with interrupted lives.
With thoughts of many unmarked graves at the bottom of the sea.
And the unknown's tomb at Arlington, I know FREEDOM ISN'T FREE.
Thank You Mr. Moby for your never ending support of America's Veterans
John Hamilton---Rome… (Amen, soldier….never ending.)

Check this out. I can verify this because I was in Lowes the other day for some reason and just for the heck of it I was looking at the hose attachments. They were all made in China. The next day I was in Ace
Hardware and just for the heck of it I checked the hose attachments there. They were made in USA. Start looking.
In our current economic situation, every little thing we buy or do affects someone else - even their job. My grandson likes Hershey's candy. I noticed, though, that it is marked made in Mexico now. I do not buy it any more.
My favorite toothpaste Colgate is made in Mexico now. I have switched to Crest. You have to read the labels on everything.
This past weekend I was at Kroger. (Can be true for any store.) I needed 60W light bulbs and Bounce dryer sheets. I was in the light bulb aisle, and right next to the GE brand I normally buy was an off brand
labeled, "Everyday Value.”
I picked up both types of bulbs and compared the stats - they were the
same except for the price. The GE bulbs were more money than the Everyday Value brand but the thing that
surprised me the most was the fact that GE was made in MEXICO and the Everyday Value brand was made in -get ready for this - the USA in a company in Cleveland, Ohio .
So throw out the myth that you cannot find products you use every day that are made right here.
So on to another aisle - Bounce Dryer Sheets . . .
Yep, you guessed it, Bounce cost more money and is made in Canada . The Everyday Value brand was less money and MADE IN THE USA! I did laundry yesterday and the dryer sheets performed just like the Bounce Free I have been using for years and at almost half the price!
My challenge to you is to start reading the labels when you shop for everyday things and see what you can find that is made in the USA - the job you save may be your own or your neighbors!
If you accept the challenge, pass this on to others, so we can all start buying American, one light bulb at a time!
Stop buying from overseas companies!
Let's get with the program . . . . Help our fellow Americans keep their jobs and create more jobs here in the U.S.A.
(We should have awakened a decade ago . . . . . ..)

One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class was walking home from school..
His name was Kyle.
It looked like he was carrying all of his books. I thought to myself, 'Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday?
He must really be a nerd.'
I had quite a weekend planned (parties and a football game with my friends tomorrow afternoon), so I shrugged my shoulders and went on.
As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids running toward him..
They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him so he landed in the dirt.
His glasses went flying, and I saw them land in the grass about ten feet from him..
He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes
My heart went out to him. So, I jogged over to him as he crawled around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye.
As I handed him his glasses, I said, 'Those guys are jerks.'? ?
They really should get lives.
' He looked at me and said, 'Hey thanks!'
There was a big smile on his face.
It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude.
I helped him pick up his books, and asked him where he lived...
As it turned out, he lived near me, so I asked him why I had never seen him
before. He said he had gone to private school before now.
I would have never hung out with a private school kid before..
We talked all the way home, and I carried some of his books.
He turned out to be a pretty cool kid..
I asked him if he wanted to play a little football with my friends
He said yes. We hung out all weekend and the more I got to know Kyle, the more I liked him, and my friends thought the same of him.
Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books
again.
I stopped him and said, 'Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!
' He just laughed and handed me half the books.
Over the next four years, Kyle and I became best friends..
When we were seniors we began to think about college..
Kyle decided on Georgetown and I was going to Duke.
I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would never
be a problem.
He was going to be a doctor and I was going for business on a football
scholarship.
Kyle was valedictorian of our class. I teased him all the time about being a nerd. He had to prepare a speech for graduation.
I could see that he was nervous about his speech.
So, I smacked him on the back and said, 'Hey, big guy, you'll be great!'
He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and
smiled, and said ' Thanks,'
As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began
'Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach...but mostly your friends...
I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them. I am going to tell you a story.'
I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told
the first day we met. He’d planned to kill himself over the weekend.
He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn't have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home.
He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile.
'Thankfully, I was saved.
My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable..'
I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment. I saw his Mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile.
Not until that moment did I realize it's depth. Never underestimate the power of your actions..
With one small gesture you can change a person's life.
For better or for worse.
'Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly.'

Remember the offer of a Bloodhound puppy Tony & Deanna made me from Dry Creek Bloodhounds? Well, at Moby Manor, mama put her foot down, and made me stop and think about how busy we are at home for the time being, & what could I say? She really was right. She’s the smart one. I’ll freely admit that. I’d already named it. He was gonna be OSCAR. Named after my papaw. I called Tony and told him while he was at work at the Budweiser plant. When he got in from work, he sent me this email I want to share.

Moby,
It was great to finally talk to you this afternoon. I could detect the true disappointment in the fact you had wanted to name your hound after your grand pappy and the genuine gratitude you expressed for the offer.
So here is what we want to do here at Dry Creek Bloodhounds!
If between all of us, we can find a search and rescue (SARS) organization or a law enforcement agency that has a qualified trainer and handler we will donate a male bloodhound in your name. He will be named “Dry Creek Oscar”, in the memory of your grand pappy.
Hopefully he will never have the duties, but it would be great to know that if when we (You and Me) are older, ole Oscar may be able to track us down when we wonder away from the security of our nursing home, or God forbid if a young child (like Gracie) is lost he saves the day.
I hope you will consider this modified offer and I am sure with your connections we can find an organization that will train and utilize “Oscar” to the best of his abilities.
Let us know, and we will (with help from Gracie and yourself) pick a puppy when they come that you feel best fits your grand pappy's memory.
Tony & DeAnna

Brother Tony & Sister Deanna,
You’ve almost made a grown clown cry.
You bet it's OK.
Dry Creek Oscar will be a fine specimen of a very noble breed, and if called upon will step up to the duties required to save the day, or save a life.
This is such a beautiful idea, it’s almost poetry.
Papaw is looking down from Heaven, & I Can feel the warmth of his smile.
He would have loved that dog, too.

According to a news report, a certain private school in Washington was recently faced with a unique problem. A number of 12-year-old girls were beginning to us lipstick and would put it on in the bathroom. That was fine, that was fine but after they would put on their lipstick they would press their lips against the mirror leaving dozens of little lip prints. Every night the maintenance man would remove them, and the next day the girls would put them back. Finally the principal decided that something had to be done. She called all the girls to the bathroom and met them there with the maintenance man. She explained that all these lip prints were causing a major problem for the custodian who had to clean the mirrors every night. (you can just imagine the yawns from the little princesses)
To demonstrate how difficult it had been to clean the mirrors, she asked the maintenance man to show the girls how much effort was required. He took out a long-handled squeegee, dipped it in the toilet, and cleaned the mirror with it. Since then, there have been no lip prints on the mirror.

There are teachers… and then there are educators.

Hi Moby, as the mother of an 18-year-old son who is currently deployed in support of operation Iraqi Freedom, I know first hand how hard it is on the mothers and the other family members of a deployed military service member. The emotions you deal with on a daily basis and the constant overwhelming fear for the safety and well being of your child, while on the outside, you struggle to appear normal, on the inside you feel everything but normal. Being a soldier’s mom for me is many things. It’s a privilege, a sense of pride and honor. It’s my heart taking the chance to be crushed. It’s my fears that sometimes bring me to my knees. It’s the unknown that haunts me in my sleep.
It’s my soul that is saddened every time I hear of casualties. It’s the air I can’t sometimes breath, hoping it’s not me whose door the dress greens come knocking on. It’s the heartache for other mothers who have lost their children. It’s also my road back to my faith… Allen was born 8 days after the end of the Gulf War. Never in my wildest dreams did I dream that 18 years later, my son would head off to fight in a war. Nothing ever really prepares you for the rollercoaster ride of being a soldiers mom.
The morning he left, as I picked up his backpack to help him pack those last minute things, I had a flashback to the time I was packing his stuff in his backpack for his first day of school and how protective my daughter was of him and how bad my youngest son wanted to go with him.
On May 5th he was deployed to Iraq, and it has been a long 6 weeks that we didn’t hear anything at all from him. Every possible scenario has run through my mind… In April, my family and I were fortunate enough to go out to spend time with him before he deployed. I didn’t know if there would be a badge of bravery for me this time around when it was time to say our goodbyes, and there wasn’t, for any of us, the tears came, unhidden, no brave fronts. It’s hard hugging your child goodbye before they are sent off to war, not knowing if there will be anymore daily phone calls text messages or emails, not knowing if you will ever get to hug them again or even see your child alive again. More often, at the times you feel like you are going crazy. It’s a sick feeling when a strange vehicle pulls up in the driveway, praying that it’s not the Army coming to deliver unspeakable news. It’s the tears you shed in the grocery store buying his favorite snacks to send in a care package, the strange looks you get at the post office shipping that care package with tears rolling down your cheeks and kissing the package before you turn it over to be shipped, another military mom can easily be picked out in these situations, she’s the only one in the crowd that looks at you with an understanding smile, because she knows… It’s counting down the days until he is safely back on U.S. soil again, giving yourself pep talks just talking yourself into getting through another day, most of all, it’s the sleepless nights, and constantly wondering if he’s ok…

Victoria, Texas is a town about 80 miles west of Houston. Local Hispanic leasers there, in opposition to pending immigration legislation, boycotted all Caucasian owned businesses last month as a demonstration to their economic impact on the community. The boycott was declared a success by the Hispanic community, noting revenue in Caucasian owned business was down by 19 percent. Business owners declared the boycott a success as well , pointing out that shoplifting was reduced by 77 percent, money orders sent out of the country were down by 97 percent, and the cost of daily clean-up and trash collection was down by 84 percent. Shoppers reported they could actually hear English being spoken throughout the community for the first time in recent memory, and customers paid for purchases with real money, not government debit cards or food stamps!

Dear Moby,
Several years ago, I adopted an African-American girl after fostering her from the age of 6 mos-she just turned 14 - she and Gracie share a birthday. She is the second oldest of our 5 children and the oldest of the two girls. She, like our 6 year old daughter whose middle name is Grace, has many challenges in life. She had her picture taken with Santa Moby when she was a toddler.
I say this because after years of "wishing upon a star", Disney has finally created its first African-American princess - Princess Tiana. Her movie is due out Dec. 11. Now my 14 year old has a beautiful princess to admire just as my 6 year old has her Cinderella. No longer must my black child have only white folks to emulate, she now has a princess just like her.
I have never allowed the girls to have the Disney Princess stuff unless it was just Cinderella on it (for my white daughter) or just Belle (my black daughter's favorite until now) because I felt the message was that only white people, Indian people, and Asian people could be perfect like a princess. Now she can see that black women can be perfect too. One thing - we kind of forgot to tell her she was black (not to mention handicapped because she is handicapable) and our kids haven't noticed either. They are colorblind and love her for who she is, the way it should be. However, I have a responsibility to keep her heritage a part of her no matter how disabled or unaware of it she is.
This new princess has had a lack of publicity and I found out by accident the other day that merchandise was already out without mention of the movie.
With Disney meeting such a significant milestone in its history this surprises me - sort of. Next time Mary Beth gives the gossip, can you ask her to include this movie? My girls won't sit thru it - "too loud mommy", but I hope that your young princess gets to view this movie. As soon as it is available on DVD, I know a 14 year old who will be asking for it!
Sincerely, Kim Ferbrache'. ("Fur bra shay")