Lady In Red

It was just before dawn on a Sunday morning as I strode past the cemetery.

I was new to the area and had never been there before.

It was a cool Spring morning, with clear skies and a curious light fog drifting about like a willow-the-wisp.

I can't remember what was drifting through my mind then. But I remember seeing a strange sight.

As I glanced into the cemetery, I saw a woman slowly strolling past a row of stones.
Her back was to me.

The mist was thin enough that I made her out fairly well.

She was of average height, fair skinned with fair hair that cascaded like a golden waterfall down her back. She wore a red dress. It was like a party dress but from another time, perhaps Ante-Bellum.

As I looked, a little freaked and wondering what someone would be doing cavorting in a graveyard on a predawn morning, she turned to face me.

I looked directly at her. You'd think something like this would give you the creeps. Not here. She seemed calm, if a little confused. Her skin was pale almost porcelain. Her eyes seemed blue and her nose was aquiline with full cheeks and lips, very much looking a lady.

I turned my eyes for a moment, not from fear, more to sort it out. When I looked back she had vanished. It was impossible for her to have fled so quickly. It was as though she had literally disappeared.

I ventured on, resisting the urge to search the rather large necropolis. I wondered who she was and why she was there.

That night I had an answer.

As I lay waiting for sleep, I couldn't get my mind off the Lady in Red. My eventual sleep was fitful and I tossed around.

Something was nagging me. She was bothering me, perhaps more than she should be.

I began searching and the mists rose.

I saw, no thought, I saw her ahead of the mist, but it was illusory.

She was there. Then she was not. I saw her then I didn't.

Then there she was, striding as she had before as if on a cloud, seemingly searching.

'Miss', I tried to get her attention. 'Miss, please wait.'

She slowed and stopped turning as she had done the previous morning.

This time I didn't look away. I wasn't afraid and I accepted this woman as she was.

She held my gaze and I didn't know if looking away would give her opportunity to vanish or if my gaze delivered some kind of encouragement. There was no feeling that she was 'draining me nor trapping me in any way.

'I've lost my way', she said smiling, slightly embarrassed. 'We were having the most wonderful time, then things got dark and foggy. I'm fearful I might hurt myself. Could you come to my aid sir?'

She seemed truly confused. I endeavored to help.

'Of course. If I may ask, where were you Miss?'

'We were having a soiree on the grounds of Waverly Manor. Somehow I got lost in the early evening fog. Everyone must be worried.' She smiled more in questing doubt than in comfort.

'You're dressed strangely, sir. You must not be a party goer.'

I could have said the same thing about her. The beautiful red dress was indeed very 'ante bellum' appearing. Her hair, so golden, was hanging down swept away from her face. Her skin was pale and her eyes sapphire blue. She seemed distracted as if trying to remember something, while her good manners kept her looking at me and inquiring politely.

'I'm just out for a walk, Miss...?'

'Julia Fairchild, sir', she smiled amiably.

I gave her my name and nodded, saying, 'A pleasure to meet you.' I smiled back.

'I must have fainted, for I cannot remember where I am.'

I took her hand briefly. It was cold but oddly warmed to the touch.

'Think back Julia. You were at the soiree. did something happen suddenly? could someone have hurt you?'

Her expression was grave, solemn.

'I, um, I remember a flash of pain and falling. Then I was wandering in the fog, lost, the noise of the party receding and silence taking its place.'

She seemed vexed, both afraid and unsure.

"Julia', I searched her eyes, 'Could you be wandering looking for a doorway?'

'I remember seeing a very bright place in the mist. Then, it vanished. There was the tinkling of bells like crystals. Then, silence.' her head dipped down and her upper lip quivered and she sobbed. 'Oh Dear God. Am I ?'

I smiled and nodded. 'You are just lost dear lady.'

I closed my eyes and felt warmth.

'Look, Julia.'

Yonder was a doorway, trimmed in gold. Light poured forth from it and the sound of crytal bells grew stronger.

'Let me take you there.'

She smiled and hesitated but felt encouraged by my gentle insistance.

The door grew brighter, not blindingly, but embracing us.

'Go Julia. They await you.'

As I spoke, the sound of laughter and music came forth from the portal. Then figures were clearing and smiling, waving her on.

'Thank you sir. You have helped me find my way.' She kissed my cheek and I felt an incredible warmth, the kind that melted fear.

Julia entered the door and the music gently swelled, reaching a high point as the portal just as gently dimmed and closed.

I stood alone, no fog and only warmth in the night.

As I woke I heard the crystal bells and heard a sweet giggle of delight as I came back to my room.

Julia found home.

Socialization

Facebook, that phenominon of and for socialization.

Its seems to be anything from a high school social club to a drop off pick up for intel and info.

The whole concept of friends takes on about any nuance conceiveable. It's like a town online.

Supposedly Facebook is for friends family and whatever else spawns from that, to communicate and keep in touch. Good idea. It's the only reason I'm a member.

Some join to either engender business or keep up with associates. I have a couple of industry people I can message. It would have been neat to do that with McGoohan and Wise. I might do so with some others later, though most people in the biz I contact through phone and email.

I undeerstand some have gotten addicted to Facebook. I suppose someone could be conditioned to expect anything. Addiction is too big a topic for here. I'll wait til I go back and get my Ph.D in Clinical Psych then add to my experiences.

Some people have a very open personal policy about allowing friends. Some seem to give just about anyone the green light.

One such just got out of a psychopath stalking her. I have been stalked myself and it's no fun. Maybe she should be more careful, Then again, someone could turn out to be a psycho/bitch, what have you after having them on your list for a while.

I'll keep it for messaging certain people. But I have no desire to see how many friends I can acquire.

My number of close fiends is quite small. I have acquaintances and people with whom I commisserate. Some are one or two topic 'friends'.

Then there are the folks who share my desire to restore the Republic. I may not 'know' them well, but that particular point is enough to bond us.

Now, some are very different than me in some personal ways. You know the drill. 'If we were all alike it would be pretty dull' etc.

Here's a bit of trivia: Sean Connery has 5,000 friends on Facebook. Great for him. Socialist antigun thoughts aside he is a damn fine actor. And those 5 thou must 'know' him in some capacity. OK

I have posed the question how well one might have to get to know somebody to be considered a friend on FB. Guess it depends.

That can be just like 'real' life.

And as for 'socialization' that's a term that can mean one thing or another.

For me and my kids too, it is defined as being able to meet people and communicate with them. We may agree disagree love hate be indifferent. But meeting and greeting remain essential no matter what.

For those who would be our masters it means living as a socialist drone. accepting the whole and vanquishing individuality. As well, it means recognizing a system that dehumanizes 'for the common good'.

The common good is from many, one not diversity nor from each-to each crapola.

So, maybe I'll see you on Facebook. Maybe not.

Be it light or heavy it is a way to get the word out about a host of things great and small.

All I ask of anyone is to be true to themselves and others.

Sherwood Forest

I toured Sherwood Forest as a child. It was exciting for me to traipse where Robin Hood trod.

Yep. I'm one of those who believes he existed.

Perhaps we could at least agree his spirit exists. That which Robin Hood stands for.

A willingness to stand up for what is right and fight against the odds. A resolve to bring justice upon those who have been unjust.

Some claim, as with Braveheart, that people are ascribing modern concepts of Freedom to the legend. I don't think so.

I believe Freedom, though qualified even quantified, is Freedom. That we have a Constitutional Republic of course, is obviously something they were not officially conceiving at the time of 1200-1400.

Yet, one thing leads to another. And Freedom to be has always existed. It was not a common mindset in those days. But it was present and some of us ie ancestors conceived it. Rather I believe Freedom vs slavery has always been a dynamic and it may well be true that 'one thing at a time' was the course.

Now, with the advent of our Constitutional Republic, true independence can be achieved. Self determination is supposed to be the norm. It is our greatest gift to the world.

It has been subverted and has always been opposed by those who lust for power, control.

To be aware of this and to realize Freedom is ours and reclaiming the lost ground as far as the affairs of people are concerned, this is how Sherwood Forest is forever green and alive in heart and mind.

From the movie with Russell Crowe comes 'Rise Robin':

Rise and rise again,
Until lambs become lions.......

Get the movie, rent borrow buy (don't steal -s-)

Learn that it's NOT stealing to take back what is already ours.

The Dukes

A neat film produced and directed by Robert Davi.

It concerns a group of aging Italian doo wop singers who, after fame in the 60's, have declined considerably.

They are trying for a comeback. In the meantime two of them work at their aunt's restaurant.

Becoming increasingly desperate, they attempt a bungled half assed heist of what they think is gold. After this, things of course, look worse.

Then their aunt puts up her restaurant, which they get remodeled and they launch a comeback right at the place.

The liquor board is going to keep them closed, but the guys rally and find the strength to perform. Their aunt encourages them and takes care of the legal problem.

Soon the restaurant becomes a nostalgia palace and people wait in long lines to come in.

They overcome and win the day by persistence, working hard and clear focus on the task at hand.

For anybody who has zigged when they should have zagged, who has felt like throwing the towel in, who has had enough, it can teach you when you are at your last rope to tie a knot and hang on.

Good idea personally and with the situation nationally.

I like and respect Robert Davi even more.

Idols

There are a lot of em.

Political, popular, showbiz, there are lots of idealistic icons to look up to.

I don't have a lot. There are some in each category though.

Political could at least be covered in part by Jefferson and Jackson. There is that General St.Clair who is an ancestor. Not a great statesman nor officer, he served with honor and stood to lose all ie hanging like the rest of the Founders well known and not. He counted many of the better known Founders as friends.

Jackson and Davy Crockett would be included. Interestingly they fell out re an issue concerning Indians. However they were fearless leaders in the true sense and Crockett in particular is an example for me of what to be today in our troubled times. 'Be sure you're right, then go ahead' was a term he lived and died by. I will do no less.

Many of the Freedom fighters in the Texas Revolution were and are examples today. Travis, Bowie and the aforementioned Crockett, as well as Houston come to mind. I'd daresay the defenders of the Alamo in general and many others whose names might never be known we must hold in high regard.

On down the line there is Crazy Horse and several other Indians who fought for Freedom. The Indian Wars have always been carted out aside from slavery, to show how horrible we white folks are and how our history is full of imperialistic trash or some other commie bs. Oh, yeah, I'm part Indian. Not just fashionably but several tribes on both sides of my family and for that matter on both sides of my kids' family and an adoption too.

I've written about red and white before, so suffice it to say that there were mistakes made by many on both 'sides' (Aka another ploy to divide and conquer/control).

As far as popular idols go, I guess I'd have to include anyone ever who supported and defended Freedom in the States and those inspired elsewhere to do so. That saves as lot of space -s-. Included would also be friends like Bob Schluep, the guy who taught me to housepaint, Mr. Meek, my World History teacher in HS and Mr. Wendling, who taught me Russian and German. These guys, among others, gave me a lot to live with and by.

Also, my Dad, Brother and Great Grandmother who were there for me and still really are as it were.

As for show biz folks, I just don't get the big deal about Marilyn Monroe, James Dean or Marlon Brando. Give me Susan Hayward, Steve McQueen and john Wayne any day. Plenty of others as far as acting and singing go too.

But that's it in a nutshell.

And they are not worshipped, merely admired and many beloved.

So, they are not really idols, but examples.

And I guess I do have a lot. At least in that popular category of people who do their duty to and for Freedom.

Sadie

Before Sadie moved into the neighborhood, there were lots of cats, both pets and strays. They started disappearing shortly after she arrived.

The cats had kept the mice and rat population under control. There was a wooded area and a creek that ran through it nearby. The rodents would make their way to the houses and invade the homes in our area mostly in the Fall. This significantly increased as the cat population decreased.

At first, we were all puzzled as to what was happening. A stray cat or two goes missing, that's relatively normal. They come and go as they please. Even a pet can fail to show. Sad, but it happens. And the depopulation increased over a period of weeks.

Proportionately, the rat and mice population began growing at an alarming rate. Just about everyone had a problem.

The only person oblivious to it all was Sadie.

In a neighborhood, especially after living there for a time, you can notice little things that people just visiting even regularly, might miss.

The tree cut down, the rosebush planted, birds' and squirrels' populations shifting. That's the same for raccoons, possums and other animals making their way back into cities.

Things got oddly 'quiet' after Sadie settled in. Oh, there were still 'wild animals', but the atmosphere changed. It seemed stranger, darker.

Negativity seemed to bleed slowly from people's psyches and even the area itself.

Arguments started over seemingly petty things. A couple of fights broke out. Cops were called several times, something that hadn't happened in a long while.

It centered in Sadie.

It wasn't too hard to figure out and after the tragedy of the cats disappearing, made sense.

She was always complaining and hated the pets folks had round her.

It was as though her negativity was contagious. People who were harmonious were at each other.

Several of us sought peace, not at any price, but the expulsion of the source of discord. We watched and waited.

One time after a storm, there was a hazy rainbow that seemed to hang over Sadie's house. It was a house that had been owned by an elderly lady who was the salt of the earth. She was always thoughtful and was first to help, to see what could be done.

Now, in her place, came someone who seemed to thrive and feed on discord, who was happiest when such things grew.

When the rainbow was pointed out to her, she seemed at least to be uncaring, vaguely distraught.

Then, casually, she admitted poisoning the cats. Perhaps it was the rainbow. Maybe she felt 'secure' and thought that such an admission would go unheeded or unpunished.

Nothing legally could be done. There was no proof she had done such a heinous thing. And she had admitted it to only one. It was enough. It was heard by more.

That night, dark, for no moon shone, yet serene just the same, many in the neighborhood dreamt of cats.

Lost pets. Old friends. They appeared, one, two, then more, their mewing and meowing built from a chorus to a crescendo.

Somewhere amidst the growing cacophony, were the screams of a woman, as the cats drowned them out, til there was quiet and purring, purring......

The next morning was bright, sunny and quiet for another reason. It was the quiet of peace. Sadie was gone.

She had disappeared. There was no trace of her. All her things were in the house. Yet it was as if she had fled, never to be seen again.

What family she had came and cleared out the house. They said Sadie never contacted them and the police were completely stumped. She was simply gone.

In time, very short time, cats returned. Pets and strays alike once again took up residence round us.

The rats and mice, though not completely disappearing, did not infest our homes anymore.

And at night, they would singsong, like they were crooning to the moon and stars. And in the daytime,after rain, they sang of the rainbow.

99

My Dad would have been 99 on October 9th.

I think of him every day.

I almost could leave it at that. But even though it's been years since he crossed over, and I know he's ok, I still miss him.

That may be true for most of us. We miss the face to face, the touch. I wish I could have a beer and cigar with him. Yet the other night my son and I did so. Life goes on.

And of course, It's more than a beer and cigar. It's being with someone I love and respect. Someone I learned from and wished I could have learned more from.

No one can take his place. Yet, I am not lost in loneliness. It's because I had my Dad around that I'm not.

There are folks who have suffered greater loss, some not even knowing their parents. Casualties of war and disease have taken their toll. Maybe that's why I'm here with my kids. I've been allowed to take part in their lives and from what they tell me meaningfully. I will be forever grateful for that.

I cherish every moment, even the pain of the long haul and the teenage angst -s-.

Don't know about making it to 99, but I will live til I die.

It's all I can ask for.

Train Whistle

The sound of the train whistle, especially at night means so much to me.

It is not a hollow sound, maybe a little lonely. But it is the sound that signals we are not actually alone, that we push on in the dark, in the quiet.

The whistle, all alone, declares that it's on it's way. It conversely makes it less lonely, at least it did for me as a kid listening in the otherwise quiet dark.

It always seemed brave to me, that in the night, there was this sound like a silver sword cutting dark threads. I could imagine the boogey man shrinking and cringing in fear and repulsion.

It's said that the sound of church bells repells the demonic. I think so. Music can be a powerful defense and of course gives us so much pleasure. It liberates and strengthens.

That train whistle is music to my ears still.

It never fails to calm and comfort even now. It is also a call to go forth into the dark and bring light.

Be that as it may, I'll leave it to whomever reads this to figure out what kind of light and how much.

Whistle blow, call me in the night
Feed me with might that I will not take flight
Til the cockrel crows bringing me to morning

Birthday Surprise

Following the passing of Steve the dog, comes my birthday. Made acutely aware of life and death, each year should be celebrated. I don't dread em, just, as I've said before, not using them. There is no ticking away of a ratchet as it clicks one notch closer to the banana peel.

But today, I remember the past. Birthdays should be a time to celebrate past, present and future.

So,I am taking a trip back to, well the year is unimportant.

Let's go back to my third birthday.

I was up early, excited about my big day. We were having a nice dinner later and presents and a cake. I couldn't wait!

The weather was a cool pivotal October day. The sun was out, but the breeze was cool, so Mom made me wear a jacket outside. I used to play not just in our yard, which was small, but the neighbor's as well and the sidewalk to boot. We all knew each other then, so the Hiland kid wasn't a problem when he wanted to play cowboys and Indians or soldier and use their hedge as a wall or cover from arrows or guns. Sometimes I played the Indian. It was in my blood after all lol.

I could stay occupied for quite a while and that was playing by myself, since there were no kids my age around. I got good at it over the years. I think it helped my acting later on -s-, devising scenarios, roles and names for the characters I played. But today life wasn't complicated. I was Three!

Mom called me in for lunch and I had some vegetable soup with a pimiento cheese sandwich. She cut it in quarters for me. Sure, I was a little spoiled, but I turned out ok, more or less -s-.

She made me take a nap after lunch, but I was too excited to sleep. Aside from the hubbub of my birthday, I was a hyper little stinker. And visions of capgun fights danced through my head......

So, after about a half hour of staying prone (How did I do it? I've always had willpower -s-.), Mom released me from my servitude of slumber and back out I went to burn more energy, of which I seemed to have a generous, if not endless amount.

About two o'clock, here came my Dad, sporting a boat cake in his arms. Roselyn Bakery used to do specialty cakes. This was shaped like an ocean liner and festooned with mint lifesaver portholes. My other fave they made was a hamburger cake. Orangish brown icing outside, with white cake inside and divided by the 'burger', chocolate filling complete with a bumpy outside like a real burger.

Excitement mounted as my sister and big brother returned home. They were being very mysterious. Dinner was cooking and filling the house with the customary fragrance of Mom's cooking. She was the angel of the kitchen, whipping up from scratch, miraculous meals every day (She quit making breakfast when I got to high school. She deserved a break -s-.).

I was watching afternoon cartoons. We had Popeye, Bugs Bunny etc with a dose of the Three Stooges. Those were the days of culture, especially compared to the pablum viewing now. One eye on the screen and one peeled at the clock.

When Mom said dinner was ready, I jumped up and went to wash my hands. I did that sometimes without being told lol.

The dining room was decked out with balloons and everyone was there. Mom, Dad, my sister and brother and Great Aunt Estella, who was the sis of my Grandma Dola, Dad's mom.

At three, I hadn't gone haute cuisine and besides, Mom's hamburgers were better than boughten as she said. Everything on em and her homemade fries. Coke with ice was the beverage. These were my favorites at three. No matter how old I get, no matter where I eat, we have a hamburger night once a week. That won't last much longer withthe kids going their separate ways. but I will have one for myself. My burgers are pretty damn good too.

The piece de resistance was the fantastic boat cake. Out it came and Happy Birthday sung. three candles blown out and Miom dished the cake with vanilla ice cream. This was smooth and rich homemade stuff, not the generic bland stuff of today. And the Cake (!) was always moist, the icing thick and rich.

As the evening wound down, my brother sauntered by me and nudged my arm. In his hand was a package of circular caps for our top break capguns. Hehehe! Capgun fight!

And minutes later, in the dark bedroom we blasted away, the flashes enhancing our mock battle. Soon the smell of capgun powder filled the room, a heady perfume that I enjoy to this day, mostly with the real thing -s-.

Dad finally broke it up and we reluctantly got ready for bed.

Just before we hit the sack, Aunt Estella gave me a card with money in it, kissed my cheek and bade goodnight. A couple of toy guns rounded out the gifts. My lifelong love of firearms was nearly that!

Then, my sis came back from the drugstore that was about a block away. We had neighborhood stores then, owned by people, not corporations.

With her own money, she bought me a green rubber tractor. I don't remember why, but I had seen it and wanted it.

That was a birthday surprise. But the best one was better.

Dad was home (He often travelled.) and Bud and Susie stayed home that night too. Aunt Estella was a sweet lady and her presence was appreciated.

That was the true Birthday Surprise!

That love will never be forgotten either.

Steve

Our family member, friend, companion and protector, Steve the dog, went to spirit October 5 in the evening. It was a long time coming. He had suffered long enough.

The family, ex and kids, have been reminiscing about our 'baby boy'.

It was 12 years ago, on March 24th that one of the neighbor kids brought a sick puppy to the door. It had been found seemingly tossed aside in a yard.

The runt of the litter we thought, we soon found out he was a he. Dusty handed over the sick pup to my then wife. He clung to her as she held him to her chest, where he was warm and could feel the beating of her heart.

March 24 is Steve McQueen's birthday and we were watching a biography of the star. Then and there we decided to call the pup Steve. He even had blondish fur and we figured was a tough doggie. Besides, McQueen had a dog at one time named Mike. So we figured it was tit for tat lol.

Yep, Steve was tan furred with white feet and a white stripe down the top of his snout. He had some dark highlights down his back and the tip of his tail was white.

Poor guy was malnourished and had apparently been eating dirt, resulting in worms. We took him to the vet the next day and started deworming him and feeding him.

Needless to say we had some nasty soft poop to clean up which was laced with worms. Will vividly remembers that because he helped deworm Steve. The kids both did their parts.

He responded to the love and the care, becoming a strong young pup.

I remember little things and some significant times. He used to walk past the bed with his tail up. I'd say 'Steve, Stevie!' and the tail, the only thing visible would bob. He would come and put his head on my thigh while I sat at the computer and I'd pet him. The corners of his maw would upturn in a doggie 'smile'. He would 'doggie kiss' my hand and I'd make a kiss noise in return. Then there was his well mannered standing and looking at me, waiting to be fed. He would just stand and put his head on the edge of the bed, gazing at me til I fed him. If we play wrestled or if, as on occasion, our voices would be raised, he would rapidly bark in protest.

As a boy, Will could talk to Steve and he would listen, well at least pay attention. Steve was good at that -s-. Yes we paid attention to our kids, but there is something to be said about a boy and his dog.

Then there was the time the drugdealing stoned pedo tried to grab Erica. Steve lunged at him, snapping. The idiot tried to kick him, giving Mommy and me time to deploy with our guns, driving the scumbag away.

Steve was a very good judge of character, not just the above moment, but other times he warned us and conversely when he received attention from strangers. He loved the Armed Informed Mother's March in Chicago Mother's Day 2000. And so many times walking him and just meeting people.

Like his namesake, he had an eye for the ladies, well for him the girl doggies. He made friends easily lol.

So much life and love was shared. It was so at the end of his time here as well.

It was a solemn time and that quiet as he passed was intense. I wonder even in the din of battle if there is a moment of quiet that's undetectible but always there no matter how sudden socalled 'death' can be. A moment of transition.

Steve's transition made me for the umpteenth time acutely aware of the fact we all go sooner or later. Life in a corporeal body is limited, be it canine, human or otherwise.

It has renewed my resolve to use my time. My hope is to get some of my stories told, to do my best to play my part in Restoring this Republic and be there for my kids. I will treasure the time I have.

We love you Steve. We always will. Love never dies.

Mr. K

Mr. K was a quiet man. He owned his own business, a drugstore in the middle of an inner city neighborhood.

Perhaps if you happened into his store you would see a little white haired man, unassuming and going about his business. As he hands over your purchase, his sleeve might ride up on his wrist revealing the tattooed numbers. It was a reminder mostly to himself, 'nie wieder', never again.

He would never 'shove' this in your face. Neither would he try to hide it. He would never deny it nor would he stand for his adopted country to slide into fascism. Yet he was a quiet man, but action speaks louder than words.

He fought as best he could against complacency and an overwhelming herd mentality. For his efforts, he was captured and became an inmate at a death camp. He survived, escaped and learned the art of guerilla warfare. A quiet man became a quiet soldier.

Then, after the war, he decided to make the US his home instead of Israel. He supported his brothers and sisters there, but preferred to become a citizen here. He wanted to live in the Republic that did so much to help free the world.

Over the years as much as he supported his adopted land, he saw the frightening similarities to what happened in his native land.

He spoke out among his fellow Jews and saw a disturbing similarity in mindset to those who eventually were herded onto boxcars and exterminated. One significant reason for that was the confiscation of firearms, and the shtetl mindset of authority knowing best.

He was never harmed in his store. Many people loved him. But he was willing to protect himself and his property.

This mindset was what helped him escape and fight Nazis. He was prepared to once again do the same in his new home. He would make good his oath as a citizen of the US to protect and defend the constitution by keeping and bearing arms.

He was willing to do what had to be done as he had done before. It should shame those who knuckle under and are ignorant of history. As for those who hate us because we will defend ourselves and others, they are on their own.

I'm not always as quiet as Mr. K was. But I completely agree with him regarding 'nie wieder'.

How about you?

Fear Is The Key

Let's kick off the Month of October with fear -s-.

It's Halloween month and Autumn gets rolling now.

It's my birth month, but I'm not scared of getting older lol.

I'm only afraid of not doing something.

I've spoken many times here and elsewhere about how fear can paralyze us. And I may well wear the frequent 'captain obvious' hat or the broken record baton. But, I cannot emphasize enough how we must NOT stop. He who hesitates is lost indeed.

And it is not just fear of dying that can stop us. It is fear of failure. I know this firsthand, having my share of failure and success, both personally and professionally.

But I know after all this time that if we do nothing, then nothing will happen. Or a great deal will happen. And that great deal would be our doom, as a nation, as people and maybe even our souls.

Tell ya what I'm gonna do. I'm going to meet my goals personally, professionally and in service to our country by helping to Restore the Republic.

Combat vets have told me that courage/heroism is meeting fear and going through it, doing their duty, all without music or fanfare.

I will do my duty no matter the cost, come hell or high water.

Fear is the key.

Let's turn the key, open the door and enter into everything.