August 2009


21 Aug 2009 05:57 pm

Watch this video of an elderly woman’s attempt to cross the road and a disrespectful thirty something’s reaction to her.

It’s rich.

The man is in a hot sports car and is impatient with the woman’s slow progress across the road. It’s evident that he thinks she is just an obstacle in his way so he honks his horn at her. He doesn’t recognize her humanity and he certainly doesn’t get out of his car to see if he can assist her in any way.

No. He just wants her out of the way.

Although Barack Obama claims that the American people are “wee-weed” up about his plans to nationalize health care in reality it’s Mr. Obama himself and his fellow leftists in congress who are in that odd condition due to the strong disapproval the American people are showing at town hall meetings.

“Wee-weed up” is an odd and undignified phrase to come out of an American presidents mouth and I, for one, am at a loss to make any sense of it. I recall an incident that happened when my son was three years old. He had to have exploratory surgery on his “private parts.” When the technician took him to have an xray, she explained to him that they were going to take a picture of his “wee wee.” He looked at her and said, “Well, it’s not gonna smile.”

That response got all over the hospital in nothing flat.

I remember the nursery rhyme. “This Little Piggy.” I loved reciting that to my kids when they were little and I would grab their toes as I said it. One line said this: “This little piggy went wee wee wee.” The kids loved it.

But for an American president to engage in such bathroom language sounds to me that Obama was at a loss for words and certainly, he would have been, not having the help of his teleprompter. I recall that the left called former President George W. Bush stupid because of his unique, invented words like stratagery. Well, at least that word had more shrewdness than “wee-weed Up.”

The Bookworm Room has an analysis of Obama’s rhetorical flourishes.

Why have Obama’s approval numbers dropped so precipitously? Why are Democrat plans for health care so unpopular?

One reason? Sarah Palin’s take down of the death panels on her Facebook page. Now she’s talking tort reform.

Another reason? The American people can read and have been reading the thousands of pages of dreck the Democrats want to impose on this free people. Most of these Americans do not appreciate being called a mob and they don’t like being called stupid.

In addition, Obama has insulted the doctors and surgeons of this country with his ignorant comments about tonsillectomies and cardiology.

Seniors in this country have the right to be very afraid. Even the New York Times is admitting that Obamacare will send the grandparents of this nation to an early grave.

Then there is the performance of the stimulus on the nations economy.

Not so hot.

So Obama reminds me of the smart aleck young man in the sports car, honking at the old lady. An airbag to the face is what the jerk got for his incivility.

Obama is dropping in the polls.

Boo-bloody-hoo.

18 Aug 2009 05:02 pm

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When I was in junior high I discovered the magic of mascara. Just mascara. That’s all my mother would allow me to wear. No other makeup, no eyeliner, no shadow, and no face powder was allowed. Because my sister and I were singers and I played the guitar to accompany us, my mother allowed me to wear the mascara for our performances but it wasn’t long until I was applying the Maybelline everyday. I thought it was the secret charm that gave me power over boys. I learned to apply the mascara perfectly so that it seemed natural. My friends of course, were allowed to wear much more makeup but I knew I couldn’t push the envelope in our family so I made the most of the mascara.

I was really into music, especially the Beatles but there was something about The Rolling Stones that really creeped me out. I didn’t see what other shrieking females saw in Mick Jagger. He seemed like an effeminate screamer with a very unattractive mouth. The Stones’ song, Paint It, Black really bothered me. One night I had a dream that the Soviet Union conquered the United States and shut down all capitalistic enterprises. I was not allowed to have mascara. It was a nightmarish dream, accompanied by the song, Paint It, Black.

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Julie Christie had beautiful eyelashes.

This was my first revelation about capitalism. I childishly began to comprehend that Americans had the freedom to buy and sell, thanks to our founders and system of government. I could blithely save my money and go to the store and purchase my beloved mascara because we lived in a free country.

It wasn’t long before the movie, Dr. Zhivago appeared in the movie theaters. I was captivated by it and began to study history. I learned that the novel the movie was based on had been banned in the Soviet Union as well as the movie. Indeed, it was not until 1994 that the film was allowed to be seen in Russia.

As my sister and I began to prosper with our music I began to draw charcoal portraits of my friends at school - for pay. I bought more history books and historical novels and added to my own education.

I paid my own way through college (with a little help from my parents) and was able to resist the liberal onslaught from several of my college professors.

I married my West Point sweetheart and spent thirty years moving and traveling throughout this country, Europe and Panama. I learned first-hand about the inefficiencies of the military healthcare system. In fact, my recent surgeries are a result of the inadequacies of medical procedures, resources and physicians when we were stationed in Germany from 1999 to 2001.

Our American capitalist system has promoted most of the breakthroughs in medicine throughout the past two centuries. The Obama administration has taken over the banking industry, the auto industry and it now seeks to make health care a governmental concern.

I recall the scene in Dr. Zhivago when Yuri returns home to Moscow after the war to discover that his family home has been divided into tenements by the Soviets. If Americans don’t fight to defeat the Democrats’ dream of government provided health care we will be divided into tenements of rationed health care with little freedom to protest.

We must do it now. Losing our free-market choice to health care is the least of this, our freedom is already at risk. Obama is willing to proceed with the ensnarement of Americans into the “public option” no matter the cost. If that is allowed to happen we may as well paint it all black.

15 Aug 2009 11:40 pm

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Stacked hats in my parents’ shop, Fletchers’ Country Corner

The shop sits on Main Street in Van Buren, Arkansas, just across the street from the old railroad depot.

To explain the genesis of my parents’ life-long hobby and business I have to begin with some background.

Growing up in my parents’ home was quite an exhilarating and interesting experience. Our family lived in a little white frame house on a few acres of land. The woods in back had a fence that ran around the perimeter of the property and there was a white picket fence in front. Daddy kept a garden and in the early years we had chickens. I remember finding eggs in nests. Wild asparagus grew out in the woods. I never learned to like it until I discovered the white asparagus (spargel) in Germany.

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My paternal grandfather was quite a fisherman. In fact, my grandmother once told me that she took up fishing to save her marriage. (smart woman) It was fun to go fishing with them, especially to go out in their boat. My parents were very over-protective so wouldn’t let that happen very often and it was only in their presence. My Dad, being my Dad, put a little artistry in his display of the fishing lures, hanging them on a tree branch. Some of the lures belonged to my grandfather.

My parents started collecting early on. First, they discovered the glory of garage sales, then they started to go to estate sales. By the time I was in college I remember coming home one day to find a beautiful old antique floor lamp in the living room. That would have been a wonderful addition to the living room but no, that would not have been the true style of our quirky family. On top of the lamp was stacked about ten lamp shades. I looked at my Dad and said, “What do you call this?” He answered, “Repetition.”

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I remember watching my mother-in-law take slices of leftover roast beef and put it in the old fashioned meat grinder. After she ground it, she put the meat in a bowl. Then, she added some pickles and mayonnaise and a little salt and pepper and it made a glorious sandwich. I also have an old fashioned meat grinder and wouldn’t trade it in for a blender for anything.

My Dad closed the gate in the front yard and opened the gate to the back pasture so Scout, our Pinto horse could have the run of the yard at night. Talk about a great security service. I remember waking up in the morning during the summer to find Scout looking in my window. We didn’t have air conditioning back then and if he sneezed, the spray landed all over my face. Scout was my wake up call in the summer.

The front porch had a swing (one of my favorite places) and the kitchen was dominated by a beautiful antique dining table. Sitting in one corner of the room by the old player piano was an antique cherry wood chair. The top of the back of the chair featured a carved angel face with wings. I loved that old chair. At night I tended to get scared and would let my imagination run away to dark woods leading to creepy old houses with spider-webbed filled rooms. I would get up and go into the kitchen and sit a while in that angel chair and feel better.

My maternal grandfather had a drycleaners downtown on Garrison Avenue in one of the oldest buildings in Fort Smith. It had a tall ceiling and a mural depicting three seasons on the half clear story. Upstairs my grandfather stored old family heirlooms and furniture. He didn’t like anything old, preferring instead, contemporary furniture. My mother loved antiques so selected pieces of the furniture ended up in our home.

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Brooklyn Dodgers Fan Bank

My Dad and brothers are baseball fans and have always been. I don’t think there is one bit of baseball trivia that they don’t know. In fact, once I heard my brother talking about baseball in his sleep. They are still the family authorities on all things baseball. My Dad once drove all the way to Iowa just to pick up a certain baseball trading card. Beats all I ever saw. The family once drove all night just to take in a Saint Louis Cardinals game.

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My Uncle Max brought this Geisha doll back from the war and gave it to my grandmother. She is peering around the corner to keep an eye on the customers. I hope she never sells because I would like to bring her home someday. She sat on the corner of my grandparents’ mantle for as long as I can remember so I’m sure she’s comfortable with corners.

When I became a teenager I became more sensitive about the appearance of our home. The oddities that found their way into our house took up random spaces, seeming to have lives of their own. I was always partial to the heavy antiques even though they claimed most of the space.

Eventually, the shop was born.

Each item has a story; some whisper little hints while others scream outloud. The recital of our lives bears repeating on some quiet evenings. There’s no mathematical magic involved, just the glimpse of a deep memory that is inspired by the image or the touch of an everyday object.

13 Aug 2009 11:56 pm

But she got one anyway.

 

Lincoln is up for re-election in 2010. She’s vulnerable and needs to be defeated.

13 Aug 2009 10:26 pm

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I wondered when they put me under if, when I awoke, I would still have my health care.

I stayed in the hospital for eight days and each day, as I grew more conscious, I heard news accounts of mobs of people screaming at representatives at Town Hall Meetings. Democrats’ Steny Hoyer and Nancy Pelosi claimed these Americans were bringing swastikas to the meetings. I began to wonder if it was just the pain killers confusing me. Now I know how Rip Van Winkle felt. Americans, in their civic duty are attending town hall meetings and are being called right wing crazies and nazis simply because they didn’t tow the Democrats’ line.

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Now, it seems I do still have my health care, so far, anyway, thanks to the efforts of many Americans asking questions at town hall meetings. Asking questions, according to many in the media and the Obama administration is equal to treasonous activity. According to Nancy Pelosi it is unpatriotic to ask questions about the Democrat’s health care plans.

Jeeze. Louise. (but not Harry) We are un-American because either we have questions about Obama’s health care or we like the health care we have? In my case, I am lying in the hospital bed watching the news on a flashing television that is causing migraines but I want to know what is going on in the world (which in my case is a sign I am improving) and it becomes apparent to me that Democrats are not having good fun at these Town Hall meetings. They either don’t have adequate answers for their constituents or they don’t care to reveal them.

I’m in the hospital without a computer or the ability to blog but I am blogging in my mind throughout one night. Unable to sleep, my mind was racing with all my thoughts of health care, that I am receiving and the care I would lose if Obama’s plans were to pass.

This is my first hospitalization since the birth of my third child; my health problems didn’t start until three days after Obama’s inauguration. I’m not blaming him, but I’m just saying…….

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In the hospital my mind was swirling with thoughts and fears of our future. I couldn’t turn my brain off. My mind wandered to when I was a little girl and my mother told me that it cost my parents one hundred dollars to give birth to me. I was born at the very same hospital where I am being treated. Amazing that it only cost one hundred dollars to be born. My parents paid twenty five dollars to our family doctor/obstetrician and seventy five to the hospital.

When I was five years old, my cousin, Vicky suffered third degree burns over ninety percent of her body when her little dress caught fire. She was playing with matches outside with her brother and friends and when her dress caught fire she began to ran. She spent a year in Sparks Hospital and then another year in the Baptist Childrens’ Hospital in Little Rock for skin grafts. Her father’s military unit gave blood for her many needed blood transfusions. Every Saturday my parents would take me to the hospital to visit with Vicky. We were the same age and I encouraged her to play.

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My sister provided some art for my healing.

I will never forget the love and care that was given to my cousin by the hospital staff and her entire family. I spent many of those hours at the hospital with Vicky riding in old fashioned wicker wheel chairs. A very sweet nurse used to push us both sitting together in one chair through the hallways. That was one of Vicky’s favorite treats at the hospital.

When I read that today many people don’t survive third degree burns over ninety percent of their body I catch my breath. So much effort was put into saving Vicky’s life. I remember later, when Vicky and I were teens that my grandmother told me that my Uncle had finally paid all of Vicky’s medical bills. It took him ten years but he did it. No insurance, no medicare, no medicaid, no outside help.

My cousin grew up to become a wife, mom and a contributing member to society.

I remembered other experiences of my family members at this hospital in that night my mind would not sleep. I was just a visitor at the hospital back then. Sparks Hospital has been through many changes over the years. It’s still the oldest hospital in Arkansas. Every time a baby is born a lullaby plays throughout the hospital. It silences you when you hear it and brings tears to your eyes. What a beautiful welcome to the world for the babies.

Hospitals are under pressure nowadays with so many non-paying patients and this economy is not helping. It’s taken me a few days to hash out this piece because I am still recovering but I am recovering. I am proud of my fellow Americans who are speaking up to those who would rush our economy into ruin and take our health care coverage.

Yes, I like my healthcare. I have good private insurance that would most likely go away if Obama Care is passed.

Obama can’t take it away.

He will not take it away.

No. He won’t!