As Mother's Day approaches I find myself with the same mixed feelings I have struggled with for years.

First the positive side of the story....I think a lot about my grandma who passed about 20 years ago. She was the most loving, kind woman in my life. Unconditional love was all I can call it, although she was very good at using guilt to get my behavior under control at times. She made peanut butter fudge and home made bread something that I have not enjoyed since her cooking because, no one does it as well as grandma. She read fairy tales and bible stories to me, and I knew they were true. I will always miss her, and am grateful she was a part of my life.

Then there is my mother....She drank constantly, and never participated in my life directly, when she did have to, usually because she had to come up with some amount of money she complained without reserve. She brought men into my life that abused my sisters and I, then blamed us when her various relationships fell apart. When her 2nd husband would show up drunk after their separation, she would stand down the hall, knowing he was molesting me, and doing nothing because he would leave a $50. bill under my pillow and tell me to keep it for myself. We were in bad shape financially, so I always gave it to her when he left, she just said thank you. She died awhile back, and no tears came.

Today I focus on my wife, getting my kids to make her cards, and giving them some $ to get her something. I like to say I never had a mother, and I don't need one now, at 42 years old that has come true. But the importance of Moms can't be over stated. My wife is a good one, and so was my ex.

I say Thank YOU, to all mothers out there that put their children first and protect and care for them. You may not realize the impact your simple acts or words have on your kids, but you are what builds them into good adults and parents. Without you the learning curve can be deadly. Keep up the good work. Happy Mother's Day!!!!!

Oh lordy lord. Americans have officially managed to invent a new low.

This morning the boys are at the bus stop and heading back to school. Spring Break has been a learning experience and one that I am already planning how not to have so much next year.

I love all my children with everything that I am, I would never stop fighting for them or their rights as human-beings and Americans, I am just happy as a pig in his own crap that the public school system, despite some political ram fighting, is up and running and these kids are back to learning the most valuable lessons in life.

So the real question comes down to who learned what during this preview of the summer heat? Looks like me.

My sons are 8 & 9, up till this past couple of weeks, they have been restricted to a large yard (1/4 of an acre). As some of you may recall from my early writing here, I have been the victim and father of a victim of childhood sexual abuse. One of the apparent results for me has been my unwillingness to let the kids go and ride their bikes and play with their friends in our neighborhood. Well, I gave it a whirl....The oldest almost got killed pulling out in-front of a car...he didn't think those signs were for kids....and the youngest was wheeling and dealing, trading up toys and electronics. The last 3 or 4 days they were back in the yard, along with 4-6 neighborhood kids. Thanks goodness for bottled water!

So now I know. No matter how much I think I am doing to protect these kids, they are going to grow, spread their wings and will be exposed to a world that can be dangerous and perverted. But, they are also going to find new ideas and see things they never knew could exist. It seems we just keep rediscovering our world and finding things that were missed. They will make friends that will stand by them for the rest of their lives and some that will be fighting with them on the bus in a month. They will find their way, I can either loosen my grip slowly and with caution, or they will rip themselves from my grasp.

I will always walk around with a daily delusion that I am in some kid of control, and in many ways I have to be. However, much of it is an obvious illusion, an illusion that is serving this father just fine.

Maddad

Theme birthday parties are nothing new. When my kids were small, all their friends' parents tried to outdo each other with novelty acts and entertainment thrills. One mother hired a magician, who kept the kids enthralled for hours. He used a variety of animals in his act, while others, those he no longer used, were caged in his truck and ready for adoption. Let me state right here that it should be against the law to make a pitch about giving animals a good home at a kid's birthday party.... especially if my kids are guests.

Hefty, named for the trash bag, came home in our goodie box. Actually, he came home in a BIG box. There was a reason he no longer fit in the magician's hat. As rabbits go, he was unique. We had three cats at the time, Princess, Annie and Akachan (baby in Japanese). Hefty and Akachan immediately became fast friends. Since Hefty used the litter box, he did not need to be caged, but we did provide him with a miniature doghouse to sleep in -- a place of his own so to speak. He preferred cat food to rabbit pellets and Akachan actually like rabbit food so it worked out well.

Now, Akachan also had a fondness for my daughter, Jessica. He usually slept at the foot of Jess' bed where he could protect her from the boogieman. One fateful night, five-year-old Jess pulled back her covers and let out a mind-boggling scream. There, nestled against her ballerina sheets, was a dead mouse. That whole "it's the thought that counts" thing just didn't hold water for her. Akachan was banned from the bedroom and Hefty had a new bunkmate.

What can I say about Samson, the Pomeranian? A neighbor who was moving to a "no pets allowed" apartment complex begged us to take him in. He was very protective of me and did not take kindly to Jessica, who was just an infant. When I wasn't looking, he would sneak into the nursery and urinate on her bassinet. Samson didn't like my husband either. No sooner would Mike get home from work then Samson would urinate on his briefcase. Needless to say, Sam didn't live with us for long. His new home was on a farm where he could run free through acres and acres of corn fields. He was much happier. So were we.

I've always loved birds, probably because parakeets were the only pets I was allowed to have as a child. I have fond memories of the two "Mickeys" who brought joy to an otherwise dismal childhood. It goes without saying that when I got a home of my own, I would have a tweeter or two. One parakeet became two which became five. Then, I saw a cockatiel in the pet shop window and... well, you know what happened.

Cinnamon enjoyed riding on the vacuum cleaner as I pulled it around the house. The vibration seemed to give him pleasure. That's all I'm saying. He was also a good playmate for Jessica. Not many birds would allow a little girl to push them around in a Barbie doll car and baby carriage. He even let her put a little bonnet on his head. Good sport that bird!

Magnus, a lab, was named for one of Anne Rice's vampires -- his sharp little teeth drew lots of blood. He was born during Hurricane Andrew and suffered from canine attention deficient disorder. No joke. Magnus could not focus on anything for more than a minute. He was hyper, and our legs were constantly covered with scratches from his insistent demands that we pet him. One of his favorite activities was to run full speed through the house, go airborne, landing on the sofa, which would then slide on the tile floor like a sled on snow. After repairing the holes in the wall a dozen times or more, Magnus, too, found another home. His new owner was a young guy who lived on the beach with two other labs. Together, they spent hours playing in the sand and the surf. I'm pretty sure Magnus forgot we existed in less than a day.

The years passed and life changed. The kids went to college, moved away, moved back home and moved away again. The family dwindled until now we have just Valentina, a Cockerpoo. She was my Valentine's present seventeen years ago - hence, her name. Mike and the kids insist I call her Val. Valentina "sucks" I've been told quite often.

In closing, I would like to thank my husband, Mike, for his patience with my need to "nurture" over the past thirty-five years. I also would like to emphasize that if he had just agreed to have more kids, this story would be a lot shorter.

Happy memories pet lovers!

The question that America should be asking at this time of year is: IS SANTA A SOCIALIST or WORSE? Where ever one sees the uniformed fat Caucasian man - he always has a child on his knees, patting them. What's up with that? A grown man, kids? We Distort - You Decide!

Santa always is in a red uniform with black boots. Is this a symbol of the former Union of the Soviet Socialist Republic penetrating our country's pure, virginal myth? Does Santa pay Social Security? You and I pay Social Security. Why doesn't Santa? IS IT BECAUSE SANTA IS A SOCIALIST? They are everywhere. Keith Oberman at MSNBC is a Socialist. (The Lenin granny glasses give it away.) Why can't Santa be one, too. Are you?

Santa fly around in an apparently energy efficient flying vehicle giving "free" presents to everyone alike: Illegal Mexicans, Blacks, Liberals, Libertarians, The Poor, The Middle Class, White Trailer Park Trash, The Beverly Hills House Wives and even Rich Conservative Republicans are not immune from this socialistic practice. Is this not the work of the Devil or Democrats that want to convert America to Socialism?

We must be on our guard now that OBAMACARE has passed! The creeping arm of Socialism is everywhere. Even in our Day Cares where innocent children are being taught to "share their toys" and are encouraged to sleep together - the homosexual agenda. The ulgy hydra head of Socialism is calling us back. Thank God and Born Againers in the Right Righteous Tea Party it will all be straighten out soon - just as soon as they get to Congress in January 2010 and John Boehner retuns from drying out at the BETTY FORD CLINIC. I can't wait for the fireworks: Teapublican will cut Santa subsidies - the sooner, the better, I say.

THE QUESTION THAT I PUT TO YOU IS: Is Santa a Socialist?

According to our Fact Checkers, here, at the ever viligent BIRD DROPPINGS INSTITUTE, A Right Wing, Left of Centered, Fundamentally Flawed, Conservative Conspirators THINK TANK For Smart Alecs, Santa does not pay into Social Security. There are no records on file in the computer data base at Langley and Dick Cheney has no record of a Santa Claus, Saint Nick, St. Ncholas, or a Santa Clasen. Further investigation shows that Santa does not even pay payroll taxes, FICA or employee benefits...nor, has he ever.

Strangers giving "free" gifts to children is a dangerous subversive practice that we hope the Teapublicans will reverse when they come into power in January 2010 and return "sanity" to this Christian nation. As Conservatives, we must stop these Give A-Way Programs. Stop the Wasteful Spending and Return America to its Christian roots. No more pagan idols flying freely in our airspace undected by radar.

Please do your part, you have plenty of time while you are waiting for your job to return from China, tell your kid the truth: SANTA IS A SOCIALIST or Worse.

THIS HAS BEEN A PUBLIC SERVICE BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE CONSERVATIVE WING OF THE PIGEON REPORT.

Ok I am dusting off the old brain cells and going to try and remember the best I can. This Article was inspired from Bonnie's article "The dumbest thing you ever did as a kid." Let me set this story up by saying I was born in 1962 and grew up in the small delta town of Manila Arkansas. I lived 1 mile out of town in the country and back in the sixties and early seventies there were still many old empty farm houses around. Well the neighbor kids down the road used to come down because we had an old empty farm house about a hundred yards from my house (next to the switch patch) that we had turned into a play house and museum. We would pick up old pieces of glass, rocks, marbles and whatever else we would find in the field and along the river banks to put into our museum. The old house was a two story house which was pretty cool we had one hell of a fort when we played cowboys and Indians.

The neighbor kids down the road....damn there were a sloosh of them I think 13 in the one family lets see if I can remember them. Dorthy, Bobbie, Patsy, Jerry, Tony, Kenenth, Betty, Lisa, Rose, Glen, Freddie nope I guess there were just 11. My brother at the time of this story was 7 or 8 and that would have made me 11 or 12. Ok, The story.

It was a Saturday during summer break Tony, Kenneth, Betty and Glen came down to play. They rode their bike down the dirt road to our house and had brought some hammers and saws with them. My brother Willis and I met them at the play house/fort/museum. "Well what is on the agenda for today guys" I said and gave Betty a wink, had a crush on her as a kid. lol Then Tony spoke up and said that we should build an airplane. We pondered it over and had tons of old planks and boards laying around the farm so we all decided that we would build an airplane. We got everything together and started hammering the @!$%# out of boards and planks. My brother ran over to the scrap pile we had next to the barn and found two old wagon wheels that came off of a radio flier and brought them over to contribute. Glen found an old lawn mower blade for the propeller. The older ones Tony, Kenneth, Betty and myself sawed and nailed the wings and tail to the body of the plane. It was big enough for one person. We put the wheels on and found a big bridge nail to put through the lawn mower blade and nail that to the front of the plane. we gave it a test spin and damn it worked as rust flew of the shaft of the nail.....Good Gawd Safety first....

We stand back and look at our contraption and smile a five foot long plane with a six foot wing span. At this point in the story I think now at age 48 STUPID someone is going to die...lol but back then it was just COOL. So now comes the big test will she fly? Hell yes she will fly, Betty doesn't think so. She asked how we were going to get it off the ground. Tony suggest we get on top of the roof of the old farm house. We re-thought that idea just in case it didn't fly. Kenneth said he had seen a TV show where they tied a glider plane behind a truck and pulled it till it got in the air......F IN cool we got enough bikes we can tie ropes to and pull that puppy down the road till it is airborne. Ok now who is going to fly in it.....Glen and Willis were the two youngest and weight the least. Glen chickened out in which my brother Willis called him the P word and said that he would do it. Mount up boys we are about to make flying history hummmmmmyeah right. Willis hopes his little ass in the plane with a pair of clear welding goggles that dad had laying in the barn. We take off peddling our asses off. Were picking up speed and yelling at my brother "Can you feel it lifting off the ground yet". He yells back "Not yet you gotta go faster. We stand up on our bikes and give it hell. About twenty more feet down the road and we hear a pop and hear my brother yell oh @!$%#. We just think he is lifting off so we pedal harder. The we hear him yell top speed yeah faster or at least that's what we thought he yelled then we turned around to look and damn we had lost a wheel and that lawn mower blade was throwing up dirt in my brothers face as we dragged his ass down that dirt road. We finely got stopped and he said didn't you hear me yell stop please. No I said I heard you say top speed yeah faster. spitting dirt from his mouth and wiping the rest with his hand he said " No Gdamn it I said stop please you bastard."

Well we junked the plane at this time one of the other brothers to the kids were there pulled up on his bike decked out in a cape (bath towel) and a batman mask. Freddie what are you doing we asked and he said he wanted to play cops and robbers today and he was going to be bat man and someone else could be his side kick Robin. Ok sound like a good Idea we all chose sides the good guy and the bad guys. I was on the bad guys side. so here we are running around I got to kidnap Betty and took her to my hideout by the way it was over in the switch patch.......sometimes it was hard to see inside the switch patch so I stole a few kisses in that patch. Ok back to the story I have Betty in my hideout and the others are robbing the bank, the down stairs part of the playhouse. When all of a sudden I hear my brother yell from the second story window Help. I look over and here is Freddie in his batman outfit hanging about 3 foot from the ground flayling like a fish out of water. I yell for his brothers to come help me. I run over and Freddy has the rope tangled around his neck and shoulder and he can reach the ground and he can't pull the rope from around his neck. His brothers come out and we get under him and lift him up so he can breathe. I tell my brother Willis to untie the rope and throw it down. Ok excitement over and Freddie is alive, we asked him what he was doing and he said he was walking down the side of the play house like batman did on TV and his foot slipped.

We all survived that day to play again. God it is a wonder that we made it. The ole gang is still around most of them still living in the same town and we get together sometimes and talk about the old days. Oh Betty grew up nicely and so did Lisa.

I have done many dumb and stupid things in my life, (as I imagine we all have), but what I am looking for is one of the dumbest things that you have ever done as a kid that pops right into your head:)

The dumbest thing that I remember is when I was around fourteen years old. We raised quarter horses, and my job was to take care of them everyday. I loved it! It meant I could be outside with the animals in the sunshine, while my sisters had to stay inside and do crud jobs like cooking...alright, I guess cooking is not a crud job, it's just that I do not like to cook...at all:) I would throw out bales of hay in the winter time, and fill their water tanks up. In the summer I would make sure that they had plenty of water, and I would go around the property checking our fences so that none of them could get out.

The fencing closest to the house was hot wire, so I always made sure to be careful with it since I did not want to get a major shock... this is where the dumbest part comes in...

One day after I had made sure all the horses were accounted for and they were safe and sound in the pasture, I was really bored. I had a metal bucket filled with water, and since the tanks were filled, I did not need to water anything else with it. For some (stupid) reason, (knowing better the whole time I thought about it), I thought I would see if I could hit the electric fence with water, and maybe do it so fast it wouldn't shock me.

I stood back from the fence, and with all the power I could muster, I slung that bucket of water as hard as I could at the fence. The next thing I knew, the most horrendous pain shot through my body and I was picking myself up from beside the front porch.

Why I did it, I do not know. I know it was dumb, and it sure gave me an amazing jolt of electricity!

So what kind of dumb stories can the rest of you remember?

What happens after the fact is what determines the extent of mental damage. (Damage Control) This is a dramatization of an ACTUAL EVENT that happened in Floyd County, Virginia on Feb. 15, 2010 to seven year old Sally Andrews. (not her real name)

Sally answered the hard knocking on the front door. It was Joshua Lantz Cromer, and he was mad! He barged through the storm door and proceeded to beat her then raped her with foreign objects. All her begging, screaming, and pleading for help and mercy was in vain.

There hasn’t been a night pass by since that fateful day that she hasn’t woken up screaming, in a cold-sweat-drenched nightmare. She was terrified of being alone for even a minute, anywhere, at anytime. She was frightened of going to school, petrified to go outside to play, but mostly, she was horrified of just being at home. It happened right there, in the living room. She could still see the blood stain on the carpet, under the coffee table. Every time there was a knock on the door, her heart fluttered and her eyes darted around the room looking for escape routes. Joshua Lantz Cromer, violated and stripped away the sanctity and safety of her own home, among other things. If it could happen in her own living room, without a reason or a cause, it could happen again, anywhere, at any time, and for no reason at all.

For weeks now, the counseling and therapy sessions has had no effect in alleviating this trauma and her parents pleaded for help. The child-care counselor involved with this case contacted TARP (Teens At Risk Program) and spoke to Dr. Amy Baxter at the University in Pennsylvania. Dr. Baxter immediately arranged to bring Sally and her parents to Gray’s Farm the following week for a six-month intensive, TARP intervention program, with all expenses covered by the research foundation.

Arriving at the farm the family had set up in trailer #12, which nestled in along side the horse corral and the pasture with an over-looking view of Wintergreen Gorge. For the first two weeks, they were to live there together and participate in every activity as a family unit. The father had to return home after a few days but the mother stayed on for the second week, participated in some of the activities with her daughter, and helped with chores around the farm. For sixteen hours a day, everyday, Sally’s day filled over with action, adventure, structure, mentoring, learning, teaching, dog training, etc, etc, etc, all with good guidance and mentoring from the many, good and caring people who understood pain and suffering.

Julia Roberts, (17) had been working with Sally to develop assertiveness and self-identity through defensive action moves in the Combat Hapkido Self-Defense Program. “It’s all about control.” Julia kept repeating to Sally. Julia knew about fear and its ability to freeze you in that moment of indecision and panic. It will lock up your mind making you virtually unable to move, helpless with no recourse, no choice, and no control. She knew the only solution is to take control now and prepare, with training, for that day when you might need it.

Julia had worked with Sally every day for a week now, both at the farm and here at the Animal Shelter. She showed Sally just a couple simple techniques and focused on speed, accuracy, conviction, and spontaneous reaction. There are at least five techniques to break the thumb of an 800 lb gorilla and Sally already knew two of them. She was getting readings of ‘SEVERE SPRAIN’, on the ‘Rule of Thumb Meter’, a contraption J.F. designed and built to measure the actual twist torque delivered to a fake thumb. She knew the sidekick and the front kick now and her impact force, speed, and accuracy kept improving every day. Julia knew it doesn’t matter how many moves you know, but how well you know them and kept repeating the mantra, “It’s better to know one thing well than ten things not quite good enough in a pinch.”

Mrs. Andrews, Sally’s mom, sat on a bench and watched them finish their workout in the front yard of the shelter. The kick bag hung from a big oak tree in the yard and Buddy stood behind the bag, supporting it. Julia looked over to Sally and smiled, “OK, let’s do it one last time for today.” Then she shouted, “MY NAME IS JULIA AND YOU WILL NOT HURT ME!!!” She went into a backspin, then a round kick hitting high on the bag almost knocking Buddy off his balance with the impact force. “It’s your turn Sally. Show your mom what you can do!”

Sally glanced around at her mom then back at the bag. She zoned in on that exact spot Julia had showed her and with conviction in her voice, she shouted loudly, “MY NAME IS SALLY, AND YOU WILL NOT HURT ME!”, and then went into her kick. At the impact, Buddy, in his bag-support position, grunted loudly and pushed himself off into a back roll. Being the natural clown that he is, he bounced off the tree and rolled backwards again. He then got up, staggered a few steps, feigned a faint, and fell to the ground, motionless, and pleaded, “Hey, take it easy on me, I’m a good guy.” Sally and Julia looked at each other, high fived it, and started laughing.

Mrs. Andrews just sat there for a moment. She could not believe the difference in her daughter, after only two weeks. She had thought she might never see her sweet child laugh again, but…. A tear seeped into her eye, and she had to shake herself, to control her voice, “You’re doing really good sweetheart.”

Julia put her arm around Sally as they walked towards her mother, “She’s going to be a champ Mrs. Andrews, you can be real proud of her.”

Her mom stood up and took Sally in her arms and they hugged.

After a second Julia spoke, “Were going to do a short cool down walk, then she can get ready for her appointment with Dr. Amy. Come on Sally, let’s get a quick drink, grab a dog, and hit the trails.” Julia patted Sally’s back. “You’re doing good kid, there’s nobody ever gona ever mess with you again.”

After grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge and two leashes off the hook on the wall, they went into the kennel area, walked down ‘dog-isle’, and stopped about halfway. Julia opened a gate and put a leash on a little beagle pup for Sally then went to the large dog section. She went to the last kennel on the left, knelt down, and spoke softly to Ol’ Maude, an old yellow lab they found last year beaten and almost starved to death. Maude was about ten years old and nobody seemed interested in adopting the old dog so Julia did. Ol’ Maude was Julia’s favorite and got all excited when Julia stood up and opened her gate. She wagged her tail so hard it swayed her whole backside back and forth, and she almost lost her balance. She loved her walks with Julia everyday. With people in tow, the dogs lead the way out the side door, around the agility course, and up the well-worn trail that meandered through the trees. Ol’ Maude took point position with her keen nose and sharp eyes, always looking and smelling for any signs of danger, or food. This was her pack and she had a job to do. Julia and Sally followed behind their dogs with an easy walk and some small talk until they came to a fork in the trail. Julia paused for a moment. “What time is your meeting with Dr. Amy?”

“Three o’clock.” Sally said.

Julia looked at her watch then back to Sally, “We’d better take the short trail this time.” She then tugged the leash to the left with two easy snaps of her wrist and said “Haw.” to Ol’ Maude, who knew the lingo and headed off onto the trail to the left.

Sally looked over and asked, “How long have you lived at the farm Julia?”

“Oh, for about a year now, my real home is in W.Va. Did you know that J.F., Christina’s dad lives right next me and that’s where Christina grew up? And Buddy always use to come down for the summers, and that’s how we became best friends.”

“No, I didn’t know that. So how come you’re here, don’t you miss being home?”

“Yeah, I miss home, but this is important, helping Christina, Buddy, and Cathy get this Animal Shelter going.” Julia went off in thought for a second, “Ya know, what I really miss the most is watching the wild mustangs frolic in the creek, in the late evening with the moonlight reflecting off the water. It looks like a liquid silver-ribbon running back and forth through the valley. It’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“YOU have wild mustangs?”

“Yep, ‘bout 25 of them, all ranging free in the upper meadows behind J.F.s cabin. We bring them down every year for the rodeos.”

“Rodeos! Oh, that’s mean; I saw how they are so mean to those horses on TV.”

“Nobody’s mean to my horses! I’m with them most of the time and they really like it. They spend all year long looking forward for the rodeo season to begin, so they can buck those cowboys off their backs and put em down on their butts in the dirt.” Julia smiled and looked over to Sally, “Do you ride?”

“No, I’ve always wanted to but…”

“Well how about tonight, after supper, you can come along with me and Buddy for a little trail ride.”

“Sure! That’s neat.” Sally piped up with enthusiasm. “Julia? Will you teach me to barrel race like you do?”

“I think that might be something we can work towards, yeah! That’s good idea, Sally.”

They reached the half waypoint of the trail where it turned and followed along side the babbling creek for a short bit before winding into the woods back towards the shelter. “Hey, you want to switch dogs?” Julia asked as she held out her leash towards Sally.

“Sure, I’ll take the lead with Ol’ Maude” she said, then switched dogs and positions. Sally admired the way Ol’ Maude just moseyed along, smelling everything there was to smell when she noticed a big scar on her hind leg, “What’s that Julia?” she asked pointing to the scar.

“That’s an old battle wound Maude carries with her. She was abused and beaten pretty bad before we found her.”

Sally stared at the scar that ran from the top of the left hip all the way down to her knee, “Who would ever hurt a dog like Ol’ Maude?”

“I don’t know,” Julia said vehemently. “But they sure as heck wouldn’t if I was around.” She looked over to Sally then off to the side and threw out a swift round kick at some imagined dog abuser and shouted out simultaneously, “UHAAUUH!!!”

Sally then imitated Julia’s kick with one of her own, “My name is Ol’ Maude, and you will not hurt me! Uhaauh!”

Ol’ Maude turned her head around to see who called her name and what the ruckus was about, then turned back again, and resumed leading her pack.

When I was a small boy, about eight years old we use to live in a small house with a big orchard filling the two vacant lots next to us. There must have been a hundred fruit trees of every variety. In the back there were the apples and toward the middle were the plums, pears, cherries and toward the front were the peaches and apricot trees with big lilac bushes scattered all around spreading their purple fragrance every where. Grapevines crawled along the fence that bordered our property. WOW! Looking back it seems almost like how heaven might be described.

Towards the middle the very first cherry tree was the biggest black royal cherry tree I have ever seen. That tree bore so many big cherries that the branches looked like they were going to break. I did my best to help that old tree by thinning out some of those cherries every day. The black birds and I worked steady at it, saving those branches from breaking. I use to climb so high and so far out that the small branches at the top would bend and sway when I reached out. That’s where the biggest and ripest cherries were and the black birds had me at a definite disadvantage here, but I got my share. I use to sit up there as high as I could go and look up and watch the birds come in and try to land only to see me. They squawked loudly and offensively at me and would fly down and land on top of our chimney and squawk some more. I didn’t care, I laughed and ate more of the biggest, ripest and sweetest cherries on that whole tree.

It was up there one day that I thought deeply about what it would feel like to be a bird flying up high then higher and maybe into a couple clouds and then zoom back down faster than a bullet toward the ground then zoom back up. WOW! I remember praying to God once, kneeling there at my bedside asking if he would let me be a bird, just for one day.

One day I was out on this big branch that went way out and formed a perfect fork. I thought what a nice place to sit. I hadn’t been out on this branch before and it was nice, but it felt empty underneath. There were no branches at all below me if I were to fall. Looking down at my little sister I realized then how high I was by how small she was. I just sat there in that fork and ate some more cherries. I threw some nice ones to Suzie, that’s my sister. My stomach started feeling funny so I quit eating cherries and started climbing down. The next day before going up that old black cherry tree I went to the old shipping chest in the barn and dug out a big long rope, the kind they tie up boats with. I took down mom’s clothes line and tied one end of the line to the rope and the other end to my britches and up that cherry tree I went. I managed to get to that forked branch and tied the rope to it with one of the best knots I ever tied. I swung my leg over and bellied that branch while scissor pinching that rope tight with my legs and chinned down that rope. At the bottom I took the slack end lying on the ground and looped it up and tied another knot. I had me a Tarzan rope. YEE-HAW. I swung and I spun. Right side up and up side down. What a feeling, to float around like a flower in the breeze.

After a while I started getting brave and off to the side was a plum tree. I hitched that rope to my britches and climbed up as high as I could until the rope bent on a branch below me. I put my foot in the loop of the rope and looked again at that branch and hollered GERONIMO. I was swinging. With the bend the rope took around that branch the first part of the swing was almost straight down for about 10 feet then curved hard into a gentle arc and zoomed down toward the ground. There must have been 3 or 4 G-forces pushing me down when I started swinging up. I had to hang on for dear life. I thought for sure I was a goner but up, up and up I went almost as high as I was in the plum tree. That’s when I hit my head on that pear tree. What a feeling, floating there, just for a split second looking at that big juicy pear, then I started falling down again. Zooming back toward the ground and all those G-forces, and then back up toward the plum tree again. What a thrill! I’ll never forget that moment. “THE FIRST TIME,” I was flying just like a bird. Thank you God. Dale. 853

By putting myself in Julia's, first person POV for this character sketch, I literally walked a couple of miles in her shoes. I saw life from her perspective, felt her passions, and walked away a little more enlightened about humanity and a little envious too. I think this is what empathy is all about. I am finding that every time I revise this, and I have read through this 20 times or more, changing commas, sentence structure, adding little things, I become a little more connected and passionate about this girl. I feel like she is my sister at this point and this seems a little weird to me. How many more times could I read this thing through, making little changes and improvements in the quest for perfection? I will never know because I am sending this off now; I have my own life to live and my dogs have to pee.

Protagonist Julia Roberts, age 16
Hi, I'm Julia, and no, I'm not the movie star, although people have said that I look just like her—Cool. Not much to say about myself, just a girl helping my dad run the ranch. My older brother, Bob, is in college, Mom tried to teach him the business end of the ranch, but all he ever wanted to do was work the horses, build up his car, and swoon the girls. Mom gave up and sent him off to college to learn proper math and such. She hasn't even attempted to teach me the books, I'm a hands on, animal loving kind of girl and that will never change. Fact is, the more I deal with people the more I like my dogs and horses. Maybe I should just get right to the personality points:

Archetypes— I could be considered the girl next door except for the need for the safety and security bit. I like walking right along the edge, that's where the passion is and the view is better. I would have to say I am a Warrior Woman, in working a ranch you have to jump right in and fix anything and everything that needs fixing, its kind of like doing battle with Murphy (Murphy's Law) every day.

Primary Strength—Well, I'd have to say my uppercut, just kidding, but I did knock a kid out cold once. All this psychological analysis stuff is making me a little defensive and I tend to talk a lot when I‘m nervous. Wow, this is a tough one, Primary Strength? Probably my confidence in myself— no, perceptiveness, yea, I can look at a dog or a horse and tell you what they are thinking about, and I'm hardly ever wrong. Or, maybe a mystic, I can tell you what that dog or horse is going to do in just about any situation, lessen there's a problem that needs fixin. I would have to say perceptiveness is my strength, my primary strength; I've got more than one.

Central Flaw— That's easy, they call me little Miss Know It All around here, I can't help it; it must be some of that mystic quality coming out. But you know something about the cowboys that work this ranch, they are ego sensitive when it comes to the "Man's Work." The truth of the matter is, when you're dealing with animals—be it dogs, horses, cattle, or what ever, the gentle touch always wins the prize and the guys around here just don't get that, must be all that testosterone.

Short character sketch— Character Sketch? Thought I already did that. Oops, guess that could be another one of my fatal flaws, "Don't follow directions good." Okay, okay.

Three things I value most in life— Oh dear, Family, the Critters, and Justice for all.

My beliefs about love— Wow, now there's a can of worms. What is love? What is need? What is desire? What is lust? What is pity? What is just having somebody around cause being alone is unbearable. What's the question again? My beliefs about love, I don't know. What is infatuation? I think I am too young to know that answer, except that I would fight any foe to the death to protect my family, our critters, or justice for all. And so, that must be what love is, what you would die for to protect. —Heavy!

The secret I am most ashamed of— Well, I peeked through the cracks in the barn and watched a guy pee on the tractor tire once. Gross, I'll never do that again. That's more gag-gross than shame though. Oh, I know, I lied to my parents last year. There was this party with boys and beer and I wanted to go, so I told my parents it was a slumber party at Patty‘s house. Dad knew I was lying, but I just stared him down and lied again. He let me go, but he knew I was lying. To this day when he looks at me, in that special way, I know he is thinking about that lie and how I let him down, I am ashamed. — Moving on.

Special skills— Wow, I've got so many, let's see. I can plow a straighter furrow than my brother. Nah, I guess it would have to be my knack for talking to the horses, especially the wild ones, in the upper meadows behind the Freeman cabin. Every year, we round up the mustangs for the rodeos and my dad insists that I lead them down, singing, like the Indians use to do to keep their herds safe, contained and content. Horses have a distinct language all their own and its all sign, body language. Their vision is incredible; they can detect an ear twitch or a tail swish from 400 yards away and know what the meaning is. My dad calls me a "Horse Whisperer." Singer would be more like it, "The Horse Singer," I like it…, eat your heart out Julia Roberts.
Got chores to do, see you later.

Bring on the dogs.

Continued from Stalled Destiny---

Christina pushed the wheel chair down the concrete ramp, gritted her teeth, and pinched her lips tight, “How dare he! That little squirt…” she hissed to herself. She hooked a hard left onto the sidewalk and the wheelchair lifted up on its side slightly while the petunias, serving as corner guards bent over in the passing breeze. Samantha looked up with surprise and the wide-eyed expression and smile on her face made it clear she was digging the ride. It was a straight run down the long sidewalk to where the Shelter’s old white Chevy van sat waiting and Christina put the petal to the metal, like any good NASCAR driver would do on the straightaway. “We can’t get out of this place too fast kido, hang on.”

Then she heard it, somebody hollering from behind. “HELLO!”

Christina slowed down, turned her head, and saw the old man just coming around the petunias. He was stiff and clearly out of breath as he did a brisk shuffle-walk towards them. She came to a stop, turned the wheel chair around, and stepped to the front bracing her feet and squaring off to him as he approached.

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” he panted. “Can I have just one moment of your time, please?”

She watched his shoulders heave as he took rapid shallow breaths and almost felt sorry for him. “If you can explain to me what just happened back there I will give you FIVE moments of OUR time.”

The old man smiled with relief, “Thank you,” he took deep breath then continued. “What you just witnessed back there may seem a little bizarre. But its normal behavior around here.”

“Oh!” Christina cocked her head to the side, pinched her lips together again in that challenging look of hers and waited.

“His mother owns the place and he comes in here during the day as manager,” the old man took another gulp of air, “Ohweeee, I haven’t run that fast in years. Anyway, he commands the place like a second grade, Nazi concentration camp and is afraid of anything new. He’s paranoid somebody is going to fall down and sue... And…, and he thinks that as long as everybody’s sitting in a wheel chair he’s safe. He mentioned seatbelts once and I think he was joking, but, he doesn’t joke.”

“So what’s his mother like?” Christina asked as she relaxed slightly and shifted to one hip.

“She’s okay, a bit over bearing, but fair enough. She had a dog once, she told me about it. I think you would have a whole lot better luck talking with her. In fact, I know you would.” The old man paused, squinted in thought and said, “Ya know…, that’s exactly what we need around here, some dogs and cats, maybe some birds, a fish tank, WOW! The potential for change here just boggles my mind.”

“And what about you?” Christina asked. “He said you had a stroke and can’t walk.”

“Oh, Jeeezz! He says that to everybody in here just to keep em in their chair. I had a hip replacement last year, and ol’ Doc Webster says that if I don’t start walking around more, real soon, I’m going to freeze up like an old rusty crank. My name is Jake Livingston, by the way.”

“I’m Christina Freeman and this is Samantha.”

“Oh, I know who this little angle is." He glanced down with a BIG smile, “And her magic kitten, Molly.” He looked directly into Christina’s eyes, “The magic your daughter put back into my life today is something I never again want to lose.”

“WOW! Well…, Jake, we’re from the shelter and she isn’t my daughter, we’re just friends.”

“The shelter! I use to work there when I was a kid, who’s running that place now?”

“I am!” Christina said with a hint of challenge, “We’re going there now, why don’t you come along? I’d like you to meet my father, if you have the time?”

“Time is all I’ve got in life, let’s go.”

They all loaded up in the van and headed down the road. It was one of those ominous dreary days, when the heavy dark clouds just hung low in the sky moving so slow it was hard to tell they were moving at all. A thunderstorm had down poured all last night until early-morning and the threat of deluge lingered, waiting for just the right moment to dump more of its burden on the already saturated areas. Christina drove her crew down the blacktop road into the heavily wooded valley, forged out over the millenniums by the Wintergreen Gorge Creek. The narrow two-lane road tracked along side the winding and bulging creek and all three of them gazed out the window. Christina saw just how swollen the creek had become and knew it was still rising from all the run-off. She had never seen the creek this high on its banks before and watched it rage through the holler.

Jake shook his head, “WOW! This looks almost like the flood we had at the shelter back when I worked there.”

On the other side of the creek, the shelter’s rooftop made its appearance through the trees as they neared the bridge. Christina slowed the van down to a stop at the edge, gazed at the violent boiling water below, and wondered when it would crest. She thought of the stories she’d heard about that flood of ‘68’ and for the second time this morning she set her doubts aside, and plunged forward, over the churning water below.

Pulling into the parking lot, Christina noticed a State Police vehicle parked in front of the simple white building with the simple sign that read Animal Shelter. She pulled the van into the reserved stall, and glanced over at the cruiser…“This doesn’t look good,” she mumbled to her self as she got out and went to the side doors of the van. She lowered Samantha’s wheelchair with the lift, then swiftly walked to the shelter’s door and held it wide open while Jake pushed Samantha through.

“Christina! Thank God you’re here, you forgot your cell phone again! They’re in your office,” Julia, the kennel manager said from behind the green tiled reception desk.

Opening the door to her office, she saw her father, Joe, sitting at the round table talking to a state-trooper who had been filling out a report. “What is going on?” Christina asked.

“Christina, this is Trooper Smith.” Her father said.

“Hi,”

“Howdy, ma’am” the trooper said tipping his head and attempting to stand up then sitting back down at Christina’s wave.

Joe looked somberly at Christina, “This morning when I checked the mail, I found a box with a dead puppy inside.” He motioned for Christina to close the door, and then continued. “It had been brutally tortured with its throat cut.”

“Who did it?” Christina asked with a cold-stone face.

“There was a note inside, addressed to you with a strange message,” her father said giving her the note.

Christina pulled out the closest chair, sat down, and read the note. She lifted her head and looked over to her father, “This has got to be connected to that graffiti?”

“What graffiti?” the Trooper asked.

Christina got up, went to her desk drawer, and got out three pictures, “We found this painted on the outside walls Monday morning, and we thought it was just vandals."

“Do you have any idea who might have done these things?” The trooper asked.

“No.” Christina said.

“May I keep these photos?”

“Sure, I’ll print some more later.”

“Miss. Freeman, your father mentioned you had a protection order on your ex-husband.”

“That was years ago in Buffalo, he was stalking me after our divorce, but since we moved here I haven’t heard anything from him.”

“Is this something he would be capable of doing?”

She took a deep breath in then let it out slowly as she pondered, “I would like to say no, but, maybe. I heard from a friend recently in Buffalo, that things have been going very badly for him lately, with the financial melt down and all.”

The trooper looked at the pictures again, “I don’t see vandalism here, I see sophisticated-malicious hate. I’ll have our crime lab check it out for a profile and in the mean time keep alert, and call us if anything out of the ordinary happens.” The trooper stood up, “Here’s my card and I’ll be in close touch,” he said as he walked towards the door.

“Okay, we will and thank you so very much, Trooper Smith.” Christina shook his hand and opened the door.

“Pleasure meeting you, Ma’am, Mr. Freeman,” the trooper said with a nod, then walked out into the reception area.

Christina looked at her watch, “Oh my God, where are the kids? They should be here by now!”

Just then, Cathy-Anne and Buddy walked in the door as Trooper Smith walked out.

“What’s up?” Buddy asked.

Christina looked sternly at her kids, “Buddy, Cathy, I want to talk to you at the round table, now! Dad, can you check on Samantha, please, introduce yourself to Jake, and bring the critters in from the van, please? Thank you. Oh, and have Jake call his happy home, that’s all I need now is Green Acre‘s wheelchair posse coming in here looking for him, and check that creek too, will you please, it doesn’t look good?”

“Sure,” he said, as he stepped out, allowing the kids to enter the office, “Who’s Jake?” he asked himself aloud, as he glanced over to the reception desk.

Julia shrugged her shoulders, “He is the old guy, I think. He just went back to see the dogs.”

Joe shook his head, “I thought I was the old guy,” he muttered to himself then looked over to Samantha who was sitting quiet as a mouse with eyes budging. “Hi there, you must be Samantha,” he smiled. “My name is Joe, and I’m Christina’s daddy. I am so glad to finally meet you, Christina has told us all about you.”

“How do you do sir, and I am glad to meet you too, and this is my cat, Molly.”

“Well, I’ll be darned, she is sure getting big. I remember Molly when she was just a fuzz ball here. Have you meet Julia, she’s the best friend a dog or cat ever had, or a horse even? Julia, would you get our little guest a snack please?” he asked then turned and headed for the kennels.

Back in the office, Christina had closed the door and sat Buddy and Cathy down at the round table. She explained what happened, showed them the note, and told them about the puppy in detail. She figured Buddy, 15 and Cathy Ann, 16 were old enough to understand life in all its realities, both good and bad. She emphasized that they must realize the possible dangers, yet not lose any good feelings they have for their father. He may be totally innocent and completely unaware of this crisis, but at the same time, they were not to go near him with out her approval. Cathy and Buddy were sickened to find out their father could be suspect in this. Christina felt both fear and hate pump through her veins at the same time and her motherly, she-wolf instincts had kicked in.

She went over and squeezed both of them tight in her arms, then stood up, “One more thing kids, from now on, do not venture outside ALONE, at any time, anywhere, for any reason… Now crack those books,” she said, then went to her computer and formulated her list:

1. Pick up 25 mace dispensers, one for each person involved with the shelter and three placed in various locations.
2. Every vehicle was to get one with easy access.
3. The shelter was to have somebody present at all times, 24-7, until this was resolved.
4. Pick up 3 video monitors for outside installation, covering the two sides and the front of the shelter.
5. Every body was to have a cell phone with them at all times.
6. Bring in 357 mag.

For months now, little Samantha, my favorite patient at the Shiners Hospital for Children, has been relentless in asking me how little kittens are born. Six weeks ago, at one o'clock in the morning, I finally got to witness the event in the animal shelter's cat room and took many pictures.

Samantha was fascinated at how small they looked crawling on my hand, nosing around for their mom. “Complete with fur and toes and everything,” she noted, “I want one.”

For the past six weeks, since giving her the pictures, that is all she talked about. Nurses, doctors, janitors, any body that would hold still for a minute got a full and complete run down on kitten birth, with vivid and detailed narration of each picture.

Her mother remarked at how excited Samantha had been, and with such high spirits. She decided to adopt one of the kittens and plans on bringing it with her, every visit.

It’s finally Wednesday and I get to do the Pet Therapy Program again. Today, the kittens are six weeks old and I’m taking all four of them in for Samantha’s selection. I can’t believe how excited I am.

I HAVE A DREAM
Eventually the program began to take root, grow, and overflow with willing volunteers and troubled kids from other areas.
Satellite programs were set into motion to initiate similar programs in other towns with similar problems and plentiful resources at the animal shelters.
It became a grass roots movement where faith, love, and support for each other became not just something to hope for, but something to get involved in.

.
If it weren't impossible, I'd write a book, as a plan to follow, then I would take each chapter and make it come to life.

THE SHELTER KIDS by Dale Davis

Setting,
Christina Virginia Freeman had just been offered the director position at the Animal Shelter under distressful circumstances.
She had been doing volunteer work with pet therapy for years and had a hands on history of knowing what worked with the animals.
She had accumulated so many visionary ideas on how to make connections with people and animals and now that just might be a possibility.

First Paragraph,

"Dad, I think I can do this, make this dream come true."
"Then go for it girl, I've got your back and Cathy and Buddy stand at your side."
Silence hung in the air then Joe looked deep into Christina's eyes. With passion in every word, he spoke softly and in a low voice, "If you don't do this now, you never will."
Christina lifted her head assertively and looked at her father and gritted her teeth. She paused for a moment, as she realized the immensity of this life time obligation.
"Okay! It's do or die." She got up, gave her dad a hug and kiss on the cheek then went to her lap top and formulated the plan.

Summary:

Christina's first step expanded the pet therapy program to every hospital and retirement home that cared about their resident's zest for life.
In the process she found a wealth of experienced and eager cohorts with a lot of time on their hands.
In the hospitals, the expanded pet therapy process began to have noticeable positive effects on those patients that had lost that spark of hope.
The doctors began to see improvements and started doing some research on this phenomena, and the effects pet therapy had on speeding up recovery.

Her daughter, Cathy Anne (16), focused on establishing communication networks with a website, blogs, webzines, E-Zines, newspaper articles, including community pleas for volunteers and advertising sponsors from local businesses, all with the help from retired professionals.

Her son, Buddy (15), took charge of completing a dog obedience and training course, and with the guidance and mentoring skills of his granddad, he turned the shelter of homeless dogs into a training camp, complete with agility courses and sled-dog pulling teams to designing dog walking paths for the elderly.

Julia Roberts (17), brought her horses up from W.Va to the farm and began horse back riding and grooming schools along with special equine therapy programs for some of the kids with social-contact issues.
She also put her black belt in Combat Hapkido to good use teaching kids Zen, The Art of Self-defense.

Martha Grey, one of the residents at Green Acre's Happy Homes, donated the use of her abandoned family farm to the shelter.
The TARP(Teens At Risk Program) took root and the Foxfire concepts of survival skills and self sufficiency became a major theme, providing much opportunity for the kids to realize their potential.
Their newly developed skills were put to good use and provided the local community with fresh fruits and vegetables when in season.
Grandma's old fashion baked pies and cakes came back into vogue.
Zucchini bread with Gray's secret hand me down recipes were the rave at many local stores and bakeries in the Tri-State area.
Revenue generated from all their many goods and services, provided a surplus, not just for paying all the bills but allotted each participating member a wage to sock away.

TARP, generated many programs designed to evoke potential through interactions with animals and other needy kids.
Teaching and mentoring became the preferred tools of learning.
Observe it, Do it, Teach it, all under the guidance of other mentors, other teachers and other students.
Merit badges were earned and issued as individual skills improved in specific areas.

The connection between empathy and self-perception was found to be a key element in how desire played a major role in these programs and spawned many research studies, sponsored by government and private grants.

Special interest groups were not permitted. No teaming up with friends or cliques.
The focus was to build up the self, as an individual, with discovery of potential through interactions with the whole group, as a team effort. One for all, and all for one.

The trinity team, duty rosters change frequently and always included a mentor, a teacher and a student.
Every body was required to participate in every aspect of every function of every program at various times, even taking stints in the kitchen learning secret recipes, as well as duties in management and participating in decision making skills.

Community Mission Meetings were held daily with all issues put on the table for all to voice input on.
Think military structure and design, with the primary purpose being to build up individual character for a life time.

The old man stopped brushing the dog and looked at me, “Hi, I’m Jake Livingston and this here is Goldie.”

“Hi,” I said, “I’m Dale. So, what is this place? I’ve been to animal shelters before but I've never seen anything like this.”

“I’ll bet you haven’t, this is like heaven on earth, the brain-child of Christina Virginia Freeman, she’s the director of this shelter, and feisty as a firecracker. She, her father, Joe, and son, Buddy, are out on the dog sleds right now exercising about 20 dogs, and having fun doing it.”

Jake went back to brushing Goldie then paused and looked out into the side yard. “See that young girl over there working with the pit-bull on the A-Frame, she’s new here and her name is Hannah, she got here a couple weeks ago with the TARP program. She arrived with a whole lot of baggage but she’s doing super now. She‘s a natural with the dogs and as good as anybody I’ve seen. She just needed a pin pricking point in the right direction and a good reason to bloom, I guess.”

He must have seen the confused look on my face cause he laughed and said, “Oh, not the bailout TARP, the Shelter’s TARP, Teen’s At Risk Program. Old Judge Hawthorn got it going with the Universality and some local shrinks. It's an intervention program that runs for six months to help kids in trouble. They come in from all over the country and are kept totally occupied, training and caring for the dogs here at the shelter and out at Martha Gray’s farm, that’s where they live, work, and play.

“WOW!” I said.

“Yep, and it’s all funded by a research grant from the university. Their doing research on how developing empathy towards others has direct effects on developing positive self identity. The kids are teamed up with various mentors, in groups of three, and they experience every aspect there is in life with guidance from us elders and other experienced kids. They learn all the basics, from the Foxfire skills at the farm and their 50 plus acres of vegetable garden which they produce and market, to the vet-tech duties right here at the shelter. It’s a real hands-on life experience and the kids eat it up. They pick up empathy skills with the pet therapy programs at the children‘s hospital and dog training skills like what Hannah’s working on now.”

I watched her work, she had such patience with the dog, in coaxing it up the steep grade.

“She’ll be riding her horse in the barrel race this afternoon, that’s going to be a hoot. Yep,” he said while nodding his head, “it works alright, and it got me and all these other geriatrics around here up and running again. Hell, I was almost as good as dead, sitting in that wheel chair, all day every day at the retirement home, but here, I feel like a kid again. It just feels good to help a kid train a dog, which in turn will help another kid at the hospital, a real win, win way of life and I’m glad to be part of it. And the pet therapy programs, like at the children’s hospital, now that’s what makes this place tick with compassion. The community involvement is such that we have social events every Saturday and dog training programs open to any body that wants to come with their dog. It’s all free too, organized with volunteers and local sponsors.

I was amazed. “How did you get your job here, Jake?”

“This is not a job, by no means what so ever. In a job you perform your work and then you leave and get paid for it, done deal, but here, it’s a way of life. We love what we do here and it has become the only reason for living to many of us, and we have profit sharing too. Having a purpose in life, other than just making money and pursuing self-pleasure is a very important aspect to one’s self identity. I think you have to get old to realize that. When we all get together like this and have fun helping troubled kids and dogs to find a better life, then, the way I see it, life just don’t get any better than that.”

“Grrrrr!” Goldie wanted something and Jake renewed his brush stroking right away and nodded his head again, “Hey, were having a little rodeo and a cookout at the Gray Farm this afternoon and your welcome to come. And bring your dog, if you find one, if not you can borrow one of ours for the day.”

I leaned back and wondered about it all.

I came here looking to find a new dog for my life but I think I just found a new life with the dogs. I was going to become part of this crusade.

Thanks for reading, Dale95

Hi Friend,

Well, last night I found myself at the lowest point ever in my entire life. I am alone now in this world, homeless, and depressed, as yet another marriage bites the dust. Starting my life all over again now, just as soon as the sun comes up, only this time it will be with a dog. The animal shelter is my first step in this new beginning and I know, I know, I should wait till I find a place to live first. But, what if I can’t find a place that allows dogs, then I guess I won’t get a dog, right? Wrong! I’m getting a dog first, then I’ll have to find a place that accepts dogs. Its all in how we prioritize our life, right? Sun’s coming up again, Thank God. I will finish this letter up latter.

Hi again Friend,

You will not believe this! I pulled into the local animal shelter at 6:30 in the morning and there were three cars in the parking lot already. Over in the front yard I saw an old man sitting on an octagon bench built out of plank lumber around this huge Oak tree. He was talking to an old yellow lab and brushing its coat gently during the brief pauses of thought between his sentences. I saw this same scene once in a calendar, a Norman Rockwell painting of a young boy and his puppy. They have aged well my friend, and it is good to see them still together.

I glanced over to the shelter door, which was closed, then to the sign in the window that read: Open Seven till Seven ---Seven Days a Week. I check my watch again, I had another 15 minutes to wait and decided to mosey around a bit and stretch my legs. A movement caught my eye from around the side of the shelter building. There was another dog walking with this old lady near the parameter of the side yard. A big dog too, looked like a Boxer-Shepard mix and totally calm, they too seemed to be having a tranquil conversation about something of importance.

Then I saw something at the far end of the side yard, a Hot Walker, like what they use to cool down race horses. But this one had one, two, three, four, ------eight dogs hitched to it, everyone of them walking in orderly fashion around in this huge circle. There was no barking, hollering or confusion of any kind, it was surreal. I thought maybe I had crossed into the Twilight Zone last night? Then I heard some hollering off in the woods on a path and I saw a dog sled team pulling a cart with a young girl in it, then another, and another.

I walked over to the man on the bench and ask him what was going on and he said, “Oh nothing, just another Dog Day around here.”

I sat down on the bench along side the old man and wondered if maybe this was all just a dream, and I was here in Kansas looking for Toto.

Thanks for reading, Dale

It's turkey season here in Missouri and my cousin John went hunting this morning with his dad. John and I both signed into Facebook early this morning and, as we often do, had a little chat via instant messages.

I don't think I have ever heard a child use a phrase like the one John used to describe the weather conditions and I'm sure I've never seen a child write such a phrase.

John amazes - and amuses - me!

---

Susan: Hi John!

John: Hey. yawn yawn

Susan: Yawn yawn here, too!

John: Ya but you didn’t go hunting this morning.

Susan: Did you get one?

John: No the wind was a howlin’ and it was raining.

Some of the most popular "tails" at Winterville Library cannot be found on the shelves. They are available by reservation only, and kids are lining up for a turn to read.
What has the children spellbound is not the new "Harry Potter," but it is hairy. It's Reading Education Assistance Dogs, (R.E.A.D.).

President Barack Obama's proposal to improve education standards, initiated by Bush's "No Child Left Behind" program, aims to broaden the focus beyond math and reading.
Reading and math are important, but so are social studies, science, the arts and recess, Education Secretary Arne Duncan said Monday on ABC's "Good Morning America."

School systems are getting stimulated to improve their bottom line production goals: teaching our kids survival skills.

A 9-year-old relative recently befriended me on Facebook.

I have not been home for a few days, busy. Oh stop my business! So today I home and no hellos, no where you been, just a "when are you fixing the dryer, I need to wash." Really that was funny. So I come to my room and start checking my e-mails and I notice that my house-mate was talking to her ex who locked up right now. They've had difficulties and she must have had a bit of a mind change. The two girls talked to their dad for a while, let him know what is going on with their school and life, that the oldest one will be having her 1st communion the 1st of May, wait I just noticed that, ha! She told her dad what she had done a few minutes ago.

She came into my room and asked me to help her draw a face of a character from one of her books. This is the first time she has done this and it must have taken a lot in her to do so. I am not an easy person to approach. I know this, but her coming to me could have been an idea from her mom, or maybe I am over thinking this. As she left my room she had a little hop in her step, because she got to talk to her dad. Not sure what kind of person he is, I know one side of the problems he had with my house-mate, and I will give him the benefit and hope that when he heard I was helping her daughter do her school work, it hurt deep inside him as it would have hurt me if I would have heard those very words. I certainly hope that when he gets out he puts a lot of effort in getting her daughters to understand why he did what he did to take himself away from them.

As I went to get a drink, one of the girls asked her mom if it would be possible for their dad's girlfriend to spend the night at our house, to which my house-mate responded with an adamant no. I could not help myself, I had to ask why not, maybe they can become "comadres."

Off Topic: I just called Madison's mom because Madison fell off the bed yesterday, because she was jumping like a monkey, and her front tooth was a bit lose. Dentist told her the new ones are coming out, son of a bitch, she is already losing her teeth, puberty here she comes.

I've gotten tired of all the political drama on the 'vine. With the holidays around the corner, thought this would be a nice change.

So, what is the best gift you've ever recieved and given?

One of my greatest pet peevs is when a child gets something that he or she isn't ready for.

Well, my irritation just got a whole lot bigger. In my humble little town of 11,000 people in MA, a kid made headlines (though not newspaper headlines) recently when he walked into his kindergarten classroom one morning carrying a brand-new blackberry cell phone that his parents had recently bought for him.

I mean seriously people. Giving a blackberry to a 5 year old? I don't even have a blackberry!

I see this often these days as technology expands and our society evolves into a more sophisticated state, with social networking and unlimited texting. I see children under the age of 10 getting brand new, expensive, shiny cell phones. Is there anything left of "you're not ready."??????

Why do these kids NEED these anyways? They're still to young to be let around town by themselves, they haven't really started forming "social circles" yet, but their parents see some unknown need to have their children on the forefront of technology?

Get real. What do you think?

Ok so many want god taken away from the pledge of allegiance and taken from money. To an Atheist like me, none of that bothers me, I take it as part of history. I do believe that prayer does not belong in school, in fact the whole religion thing should be left for homes and places of worship. Just this Halloween during the festival there were a few students in Madison's class whom did not participate because of their religious beliefs or rather their parents beliefs since they are far to young to understand what religion or why they are the only ones that cannot dress up or enjoy does yummy orange cup cakes. It is commercial holiday nothing more, we all know the origins but now-a-days it is simply for the costume companies and the candy stores.

So god does not belong in government, so does government belong in god/church? If a school is private, catholic and receives no money from the government, should they have to abide by the governments tests, rules, holidays or should they be left alone to do as they see fit.

In my daughter's Kinder-garden class there is a student, whom everyone knew since the first day because in the whole school he was the only one to get an "x" on his first day behavior chart. I will call him Art, this way I do not give away his name. Art disrupts the class, speaks up, does no homework, everything a trouble maker does. I even started using him as an example, if I only would have seen it earlier I would have used him as a completely different example, one of a distinguished student. I helped out the teacher this morning, so did my daughter's mother. The teacher asked, Isis, Madison's mom to help her do some pre-tests/assessments, as she was assessing one of the kids I heard her tell him to stay focus and pay attention, as I raised my look, I saw the kid was looking out in to space and focusing on the wall. I told her to leave him alone, that he was focusing. His look towards the walll and his mannerisms were those of memorization. In his own way he was recalling the way his mother or father helps him learn/memorize the sounds of letters, an effective trick for those that utilize it. After a few seconds she understood what I was trying to tell her.

Seeing this kid had me thinking all day, but could not find a way to support the fact that I had been mistaken about Art. Art has a Mohawk cut and there is no way a father or mother would give the kid a special cut for been the bad kid in class. So either he wears a Mohawk because of a reward or the parents are truly horrible. Giving them the benefit of the doubt, I concl,uded that it was a reward, which would mean the he is not a bad student, he simply is a bored student. I started thinking that Art was misbehaving because he was bored. Yes, bored! When I picked up Madison and her mom, who stayed and helped out all day, I immediately asked about Art. She told me she had worked with Art all day, to minimize the disruption. Before she even knew what I was thinking of I told her "He is really Smart, isn't he," she told me that he had told her that he knew all the sight-words, letters, numbers, etc. Damn, I owe that kid an apology for thinking he was nothing more than the bad kid in class, once I took a little time to think about possibilities, I realized my mistake. She did his pre--assessment and told me he did extremely well. What a jerk, huh? Me I mean.

Anyways, does the administration not realize they might have a gifted student? Is his acting up shadowing his intellect? Do the parents realize what having him bored might cause in the future? What can I do? Can I be wrong again and Art be just good at manipulating his environment, that would mean he is smart as well!

I might just be a moron, because I seriously do not understand what people do day in day out. Men and women are constantly searching for love or someone they can spend the rest of their lives with, sometimes love fades, but even when love is found sometime one or the other will sabotage that partnership. For those lucky ones that find love and get married, the natural step is to have children. Some couples don't want offspring which is great, but I think that is the progress of nature. If you are lucky you will be in debt to your eye balls because you purchased a house.

Anyways maybe I missed this class in high school, but why is everyone so worried about their retirement, savings, leaving enough for the children, buying more property or stocks, etc. I have a few friends that are married and have a home, good cars, some savings in the bank, 401k, and are thinking of buying a bigger house. Why? Ok I understand about having a roof over your head and the head of yours, but need everybody be so obssessed with having enough for the future. The future will come and leave us behind in a whole, or we might never gt to the future, hell I might not get to finish these article because I might choke on the gum I am chewing. I know saving for a rainy day is good but why not have the fun now instead of when you have arthritis, or something even worse. Enjoy now when we can get around without any help.

Why leave your kids so much, as much as posible. If we had nothing and we worked hard and were able to get some wealth, could they not do the same? Ok, you don't what them working so hard, fime leave them enough to survive until they get through school. Am I wrong, with this? Don't get me wrong, I want money, I enjoy wasting it, I want love, I would enjoy well everything. I don't think I will search for that special someone any more, I will just wait to see if it ever falls in my lap. About making money, yes I am going for it, I will fork my butt to get some wealth and when I die if there is enough,I will leave some to everyone in my family not just my daughter, but for her just enough to find herself. What about the rest, spend it now and haqve a little fun, first to make some because I have but 40 dollars in my pocket.

Today was back Kinder-garden for me and my little girls mom. The teacher asked all the parents if we could volunteer to please do so, and since I have some time on my hands, I did just that. We walked Madison to the Auditorium and headed to Mrs, Bautista's classroom. When we got there we told her would would there to help her out in anything she needed. She asks us to put some papers into the kids mailboxes and to check their homework folders. I was not sure how Madison was going to feel with her two parents in her classroom, but very quickly I saw that it did not bother her a bit.

As we were doing our tasks I was hearing and watching how Mrs. Bautista conducted her classroom, and although there was a kid who loves the attention of causing trouble, she was excellent. Not sure what makes a person want to be a teacher, a kinder-garden teacher that is. It must be so frustrating, it is the first time the kids go to school everyday, they are barely starting to learn. They have got to have something from within to do that work, I could not do it.

Tomorrow I will do the same; I think it was excellent for Mrs. Bautista to ask for help. I am sure there will be other parents who decide to help, or at least AI hope they do. As much support for the teacher, so that in turn she dedicates the full time to the kids learning.

Well My little one has been in school for exactly 7 days and we have the first parent-teacher conference, it was a general information meeting with the kinder-garden teacher. There were about 20 parents and Mrs. Bautista, Madison's (my daughter) teacher. At first I though she was being a bit hard, or rather, she was expecting too much from five year olds, she started telling us what is expected of kinder-garden students. They are required to know 50 sight words, 30 numbers, write 3 sentences, and other small things. I thought to myself it was a bit much, after all thay are just starting their academics. After a few minutes I changed my opinion, they have a year to larn all this. The kids just need to get used to the whole school environment. I just can't believe some parent.

I am all for education, the sooner the better, at the same time I do not think we should not push so much learing down their throats. The teacher explained to us that she waw not teaching the kinder-gardeners much numbers or math. Math? They are barely learning to write their names, math? By the end of kinder-garden they are supposed to learn a little math. A parent raised his hand and asked why she was not teaching math yet. Come on, they don't even know ho to count to 30 and he expects addition, subtraction, and what times tables by Christmas. I think some parents expect or push their kids too much. I have only three rules for Madison. When she gets home she is to take off her uniform, eat if she is hungry, and do her homework, after it is done she has the rest of the day to play and watch a little television, in bed by 8:30 for 15 minutes of reading to her.

I think if you push them too hard and in turn do not learn as fast as you want them to, they might get discouraged and start misbehaving or doing bad inschool. As for me she can start of slow, she is fairly bright and I am surety the time she is done with her first year of shool she will be doing well.

Bouje Publishing was awarded the 2009 Emerging Program Award which recognizes an employee volunteer program that is less than 2 years old and has achieved significant results.

Recently, I've seen and heard a lot about how great it is to have kids. I see women on TV shows say that their life wasn't complete until they have kids. I see posts by friends who gush about their kids and all their accomplishments. People tell me that I will miss having kids when I get old. The truth is, I might. There was a time when I wanted kids, but I was much younger then. Now, I just see them as a ball and chain, and I'll tell you why.

I am an only child. I think that made me a selfish person. When I was growing up, I never had to share with brothers or sisters and had free reign to do what I wanted when my parents were away without anyone around to tell on me. Well, selfishness is a hard trait to get rid of, and I think that is the number one reason I don't want kids now. I am 41 and my wife is 44. We both are only children and only have our mothers left, who are very old and wouldn't be able to keep up with handling a kid if we went away.

I'll grant you, there are many people in our neighborhood with kids. For a while there, it was like a breeding colony. Kids were popping up all over. I'm sure that if we had kids, they would have been happy to take care of them for a time. Now, I can't hang out with them because all they want to talk about is their kids, and frankly, I can't take it.

To some of you, that may sound pretty bad, but I love my life now. I love being able to watch what I want on TV with my wife, to take a nap without having to worry if the kid is asleep, to jump in the car at a moments notice without worrying if we have the kids things and to vacation with my wife where and when we want.

Thankfully, my wife feels the way I do. She doesn't have that "itch" that so many women say they feel about having kids. In fact, when we were dating, I knew she didn't want kids. I actually had her thinking about it for a time until I changed my mind. I think she was relieved. Maybe in a few years, if we feel any regret, we will adopt. There are plenty of kids out there that need good homes.

So what are your thoughts? Am I a bad, selfish person?

Shortly after I turned 40 this summer, my friend's daughter turned 14, prompting a comment from her Grandmother that she did not like teenagers. I posed a question, which is worse turning 14 or 40? Here are my conclusions.

My best memories of the 4th of July are from when I was young. Our family used to spend it at my Grandma's house. Many of my aunts , uncles and cousins would be there. There were never less than thirty people at Grandmas tiny little two-bedroom house. Naturally it was always steamy hot, but as kids we didn't care!

There was always a barbeque with hamburgers and hot dogs. I still love the smell of charcoal briquettes. The aunts would bring salads and sides dishes. Baked beans, potato salad, tossed salad (ick), jell-o molds (yum) and many others. Sun-tea for the grown-ups and lemonade for the kids. Giant slices of watermelon afterwards and the memory of the juice dripping down our chins, spit those seeds out or you'll have watermelons growing out of your ears!

The adults would be sitting in a group talking and smoking. Boring! We would be playing the typical kids games, tag, hide and seek, hopscotch on the front sidewalk. Anxiously awaiting dusk and our chance to light our fireworks.

We always knew the time was near when the ice cream churn came out. We would watch grandma or an aunt pour the rich vanilla liquid into the metal cylinder. The container in the churn would be surrounded by ice and rock salt. My cousins and I would fight to turn the crank and 'make' the ice cream. In the beginning. Of course after awhile it became harder to turn and we would struggle to turn that handle but we knew that meant it was closer to being ice cream and tried, oh we tried to be patient. Finally, usually after an adult completed churning, it would be done. Yes! Someone would carry the frozen tub into the kitchen. Oh…the best part. We kids got to clean the paddle. Fingers and spoons scraping frozen heaven off of the ladder-like dasher. Nothing has ever tasted better. And we still got to have a bowl of ice cream!

By now the sun was setting and it was time for our fireworks. Making swirls and designs in the air with our sparklers. Writing our names. Chasing each other when we thought we could get away with it.
Someone always burning their fingers on the hot wires of the burned out sparklers. Squatting down on the ground watching a small black disc become a writhing snake and then fluttering away at the merest breath of air. Dancing in the colored clouds of smoke bombs. We made quick work of it. The adults would move their lawn chairs from the shady back yard to the front. The finale was about to start. Grandma lived about half a mile from the county fairgrounds. Of course this was the place where the 'real' fireworks show took place and we had a perfect view. All of my cousins, my brothers and I would plop onto the grass and marvel at the display. The only time that day we had been still. It was always magical.

I would love to do that one more time.

After hanging around the third rock from the sun for 45 years I've come to a few conclusions about life and the world. Just my opinion of course. Many I really believe to be true. Many are just questions I have that there are probably no good answers to.

This video is associated with the article quoted here:

Dozens of hip-hop clubs have opened up in cities across the country, and thousands of raps and music videos by Chinese M.C.'s are spreading over the Internet. But making Chinese hip-hop is still a relatively profitless — and often subversive — activity. Some Chinese rappers address what they see as the country's most glaring injustices. As Wong Li, a 24-year-old from Dongbei, says in one of his freestyle raps:

If you don't have a nice car or cash

You won't get no honeys

Don't you know China is only a heaven for rich old men

You know this world is full of corruption

Babies die from drinking milk.

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The Adventures of a Terrible Basketball Player or the Night the Lights Went Out

The last you heard from me on this was almost a week ago. Since, we have taken the kids to a couple of different places, taught them stuff they didn't know, and I've seen some from out of state at a movie.

On Tuesday we went to nearby Crowder Lake for various team-building activities. I got to do a zip line. Woot for zip lines! Half were doing the ropes course (if they wanted), and half were split off to do other little games and things, like the one where everyone grabs random hands in the middle and then you have to untangle each other without letting go. The trip was reasonably successful, in that the quiet kids had started talking and the louder kids had started talking to more people. They had one class when we got back, and my group went to Rockets--Sixth-graders with stomp rockets are amazingly fun to watch.

Wednesday was a normal class day. I was in the robotics room all day, and helped the campers with their path-following robot, which they were to do simply with timing and steering. Some of the kids got pretty frustrated toward the end, but what can you do?

Thursday we went to the Oklahoma Science Museum (formerly the Omniplex, for you locals). The place has kind of peetered off since the name change. A lot of work is going on there, and therefore it's hard to find about half of the museum. That meant the kids got bored pretty quick because, well, there's only so much to do. At lunch, our group was seated next to what looked like a daycare, whose packed lunches were infinitely superior to ours. We had two sandwiches, an apple, two cookies, and a water. They had better apples, chips, milk, and more. One of the counselors held up his cookies and joked, "I bet I could get some chips with these." Later we sat through an IMAX movie (I was remarkably unimpressed and had crappy seats, but the kids seemed to like it), and then went to the planetarium to see what the night's sky would hold. Hopefully they went outside that night to see what constellations they could find, but I'm not around for those things. (I was probably on here, actually.) The trip home was terrible. They played a Top 40 station. Blegh. As anyone who knows me can testify, I pretty much don't like anything in mainstream radio save Tool. I listen to bands called things like All That Remains, Killswitch Engage, Rise Against (old > new), and Streetlight Manifesto. This was stuff from the Jonas Brothers and the Flobats (twice in an hour). You can imagine my sheer joy.

Friday was just a long, rough day. Everyone in charge was exhausted. The kids were getting homesick. (They went home that evening for the weekend.) I almost fell asleep during the beginning of my last class of the day, and truly barely made it through breakfast awake. A weekend of sleeping in has really done me some good, and I'm hoping it has the kids too. They had been so good all week, but they all had such a hard time paying attention to, well, anyone that day.

Then I went to see The Dark Knight this afternoon, and poof! ran into a few of the campers from Dallas. We are a good five hours away from Dallas, so I think it's safe to assume they stayed in a hotel nearby for the weekend or something.

I'm looking forward to next week. They'll be building rockets, I think, and the robotic classes should be bringing everything to a head rather quickly. Tuesday is a trip to the local Six Flags rip-off, in order to use physics probes on roller coasters. That should be both fun and nerve-racking, trying to keep track of fifty kids at an amusement park. Thursday is a trip to the local astronaut-founded air and space museum. And Friday the campers "graduate". So far several of them have come together to form a single, cohesive collective. I'm interested to see what happens in the second week.

Pictures and some class descriptions, again, are up here at our website.

GOODBYE HOME

I noticed that PBS is re-running an episode of FRONTLINE called The Medicated Child. I watched it the first couple of times it was run, but something tells me that I wouldn't find it any less despicable the third time around.