I Hate My Shortcomings

It's pretty easy to hate my own shortcomings. I've thought about this so many times, not to count the times I've hoped and prayed I could keep from exhibiting them. Like a fool, I find myself falling into the same pitfalls without realizing my next step will make me tumble. Bad habits and negative learned behaviors flow easily during times I least expect them.

Professionals encourage me to develop behavior modification to correct the core of such problems, but exercises in theory are much easier to accomplish than applying theory in actual practice. As my modified personality strives to near its comfort zone in everyday life, I find myself fighting old personal demons that urge me to be rigid and unchanged.

I know I can be loud, overbearing, and stubbornly unforgiving without intending to be. And, I know I can be consciously selfish and unthoughtful of others. Without placing undue blame for my own negativity, I do realize, normally after the fact, that I have committed the same old

personal affront. The repetition gnaws at others, taking a bigger bite each time I make a display.

I could compare returning to the bad acts to experiencing recurring nightmares, not in dreams but in reality. Excess emotion usually fuels my runaway sensibility until it finally crashes in brief implosion or brief explosion. Then, I am left with asking myself the ultimate question-- Why?

To somehow justify the stupidity of "never learning the lesson," I sometimes try to atone by doing good with my less than attractive traits. For example, I may use my boldness to speak out to talk to someone whom I think would appreciate conversation. Or, I may use my own expertise in thoughtlessness to encourage someone to think less about things they cannot change. But, in the end, this trade off is really a plea for self-gratification-- just another negative behavior.

I do take heart in realizing we all have shortcomings. As imperfect humans, we all struggle with ugly reactions and instability. I have often thought of how much easier life might be if we were playing on the same team, contributing our own individual talents, and relying upon others to diminish our mistakes by "pulling us up" when we commit an error. And, I do believe too many expect all of us to be more than we can possibly be on the field of life.

There is no sermon here about confession and redemption. I am merely stating that when I enter my own "Bermuda Triangle" of lost civility and when my gauges start to give me weird, false readings, I do lose control. Why would anyone fly into these same dangerous conditions again and again? I don't know. Maybe I think this time some learned behavior will pull me through, but I most often still spiral into the sea.

These are the blues for the repeat offender. The crimes I commit may not be of the same magnitude as the seasoned criminal's, yet who am I to judge? I hate my own shortcomings.

As I grow older, I realize more about my own shortcomings. But, it seems I never learn.

Half of my mistakes, I made stone-cold sober

Half of my mistakes, I made at closing time

Half the time, I never saw it coming till it was over

Oh, half of my mistakes, I've made with love on the line

Half of my mistakes, I swear, I shoulda known better

Half of my mistakes, were just amongst friends

You get a little distance on it, the truth is clearer

Oh, half of my mistakes, I'd probably make 'em again

Thanks to Radney Foster and Bobby Houck, Writers

When "Sorry" Isn't Good Enough

Do you ever feel as if saying "I'm sorry" to someone is not enough?

Perhaps, the mere act of saying "I'm sorry" to someone can be commonplace and meaningless without further commitment. Saying "I'm sorry" when we are truly apologetic for our actions is a start, but after we say those words, the choices we make and actions we take could be the most important proof of our sincere sorrow.

We should feel distressed and concerned if we have hurt someone; these are definite feelings of compassion. Making mistakes is an inevitable part of life, and we should take full responsibility for our mistakes, no matter how difficult or embarrassing this may be. Hopefully, life offers ample opportunity for other chances to do the correct thing. An apology often becomes a necessary part of preserving a relationship.

Sometimes saying "sorry" is just not good enough to repair the damage done by a blunder. We must do more in repentance to begin the healing process. Repentance begins with an admission of a promise or resolve not to repeat the offense and an attempt to make restitution for the wrong, or in some way to reverse the harmful effects of the wrong where possible.

Repentance, in a practical sense, means "to change." It entails that we do something different with our future after we commit an offense. To remain unchanged would indicate our insincerity in the matter.

The repentant person not only has profound regret for his past but also has the fulfilled hope in the potential of God’s grace to continually bear the fruit of healing and true reconciliation in himself. The Bible states that repentance brings pardon and forgiveness of sin. (Isaiah 55:7)

In the Hebrew Bible, the Prophets insisted that true repentance calls for a complete change of our mental and spiritual attitude as part of the act of restitution. We actually change our hearts and minds about a previous stance as part of restitution for a wrongdoing.

Lastly, we must seek atonement. In Christian theology the atonement refers to the forgiving or pardoning of sin through the death of Jesus Christ by Crucifixion which made possible the reconciliation between God and creation. Christ, in his mercy, forgives us for the darkest of sins.

Thanks to an article on perfectapology.com, we may see added insight into the actual act of making a sincere, meaningful apology. The article suggests a correct apology should address the following details:

1. A detailed account of the situation, 2. Acknowledgement of the hurt or damage done, 3. Taking responsibility for the situation, 4. Recognition of your role in the event, 5. A statement of regret, 6. Asking for forgiveness, 7. A promise that it won't happen again, 8. A form of restitution whenever possible.

Nasty '60's?

Most always, it's very hard for the older generation to accept lyrical changes in popular music. In fact, some people blame violent, sexual, drug-laced song lyrics for many ills in society. A study of the history of banned lyrics does provide some interesting insight into this perception of blame.

Since the 1960's have been perceived by many as the height of America's political unrest and careless, Hippy-like freedom of expression, I chose to find some '60's songs and artists that were banned for various reasons. My thanks to Eric Nuzum, author of Harper's Parental Advisory:

Music Censorship in America (2001) for the examples of music and behavior once considered distasteful.

Here is a list from the 1960's:

1960 Radio stations refuse to play Ray Peterson's "Tell Laura I Love Her," calling it the "Death Disk."

1961 The Blazers' surf hit "Beaver Patrol" was banned from California airwaves due to its "indecent" title.

1962 New York Bishop Burke forbids Catholic students from dancing to Chubby Checker's "The Twist."

1963 The FBI begins collecting data on folk singers like Phil Ochs.

1964 Indiana Governor Welsh attempts to ban the Kingsmen "Louie, Louie," but the FCC finds its lyrics indecipherable.

1965 The Barry McGuire song "Eve of Destruction" is pulled from stores and radio because it could promote suicidal feelings amongst teens.

1966 Police attempt to shut down a James Brown concert, alleging his dancing is obscene.

1967 The Ed Sullivan Show requests that Jim Morrison change lyrics to "Light My Fire" to alter "Girl we couldn't get much higher" to a more innocuous phrase.

1968 Sponsors threaten to pull support after a television program shows interracial "touching" in a duet between Petula Clark and Harry Belafonte.

1969 Top refuses to play "The Ballad of John and Yoko" because the lyrics contain references to Christ and crucifixion.

1970 The Movement to Restore Democracy calls for banning of rock music to end the spread of Socialism in America.

These examples of censorship provide some interesting historical perspective. How many, if any, of these samples would be prohibited today? I certainly believe none would. Does this suggest that readers should examine their present stances on popular music? The answer may depend on how many so-called "shocking" behaviors become the norms of a tomorrow fifty years in the future.

Society appeals to change for important advancement. As much as many older people hate to admit that they judge a younger society by dated standards, a certain degree of truth must exist in this view. As people become more tolerant of others and as injustices are exposed, both old and young must agree to alter those things that have hindered positive change.

Music is often at the forefront while driving the initial surge for alteration. To be left in its wake can be a disturbing experience yet a healthy lesson learned. Here's hoping that enough good will emanate to uplift those who may conceive themselves to be drowning in the polluted waters of the music industry.

The Adventures of Dennis in Wamsley

Dennis Hawkins is an incredible writer with many stories to tell. I believe Dennis should compile his recollections in a volume to publish. He has been kind enough to share some of his defining moments with my blog. This remembrance is from his younger days in the small town of Wamsley, Ohio. I think you will find this story both reflective and humorous. Now, please enjoy the glorious descriptive writing of Dennis Hawkins in its entirety.

Life's Defining Moments, Revisited By Dennis W. Hawkins

~Although names have not been changed, parts of the story related here within are true.~

Wamsley, Ohio is located at the far-eastern edge of Adams County. The town is defined by a ninety degree curve in State Route 348. Just one curve, but, it can be viewed from either end of town. It's a rather small town.

The town was originally platted by William Wamsley. It was laid out in streets and alleyways as to accommodate all the traffic which would follow as soon as the expected railroad line was constructed through the bottoms from Otway in the adjacent Scioto County.

The town had the usual amenities of the nineteenth century. The large timbered steam grist mill was located just catty cornered from the huge brick general store. Just up the street was the post office, the two story frame Wamsley family residence, and closer to the edge of town, the brick hotel.

Just inside the ninety degree curve in the highway stood the Christian Union Church. That church came into being when the founders found themselves at odds with the Methodists over the issue of slavery during the War Between The States.

William Wamsley's dream never came to fruition. The railroad never came to Wamsley. Instead, the railroad connected to Peebles to Portsmouth through Rarden, which was once known as Galena. The town of Wamsley was never really born before it began to die. As time passed, the town was lost to fire on two or three occasions.

It is unclear whether all the buildings in the town were completely destroyed or if some were at least, partially, saved. Some very old buildings survive to this day. Some are but burned-out shells from more recent fires. Among those skeletons are the Wamsley family residence and the old brick hotel, next door.

Brother Phil and I spent several of our summers of childhood in Wamsley, Ohio with our Grandparents Neary. Their home and grocery story were located directly across the street from the Wamsley residence. Some of the incidents which occurred during those days of summer have left indelible memories.

Not only did Phil and I attend church on Sunday, with our entire family, we went to prayer meeting, with our grandmother, every Tuesday evening. The church was usually pretty hot on those summer evenings, because there was no room for trees to shade the church.

Warnie Lykins, then, after Warnie's death, Margaret Stevenson, would usually open the church windows in the early afternoon to cool the building. Ellis Funeral Home, which was located in West Union, Ohio, provided the air conditioning in the form of advertising fans, with a picture of Jesus, or a virtuous-faced young girl, and a wooden, tongue-depressor type handle. It served us well. Sometimes we would benefit from the fanning action of others, like our grandmother, if we sat close, but not too close.

Everyone always sat in the same seats, as though the seats were assigned like they were in school. Bina Trickler, and his wife, Ethel, always sat in front of us, on the far left of the pews in the middle of the church. Everyone knew them as 'Biney' and Ethel. Biney and Ethel had no children. Biney had the mumps when as a child and they 'fell on him', leaving him sterile.

Biney was the more outgoing of the two. He was a typical farming gentleman. Ethel had been a school teacher, and, I suspect, a rather strict one, at that. They were very good, devout Christian, people, who were always were of help to our entire family. Biney had let Dad and Mom rent an old farmhouse from them before we moved to West Union. The arrangement was to provide home improvements in lieu of rent.

On one particularly humid Tuesday night, Ethel chose a flowing yellow gingham dress to wear to prayer meeting. We stood to sing 'In The Sweet By And By", the closing song. I was about the right height to notice that some of Ethel's dress had stuck up in a part of her anatomy. The resulting glitch left a significant vertical crease that seemed to me to be dramatically out of place.

Because Biney and Ethel had been so good to us, I felt I should try to help to remove the offending crease. So, without saying anything to anyone, I secretly reached up across the pew, and gave the tail of Ethel's dress a sharp snap. The crease fell out and all seemed properly aligned once again..., for one brief moment.

I heard Ethel's voice raise to that of a high soprano as she sang "sweeeeeeeeeet..." She spun in place in a manner that I had not seen before and never saw again until the release of the movie "The Exorcist". She shot me a look that made me know I had done wrong. I had to think of something..., and quick.

When she turned back to the front, I saw my chance. I formed my right hand into the form of the Cub Scout salute, and quickly undid what I had just done...; I placed what I had previously thought to be the offending material back where Ethel had it before.

I had no more than completed my making-everything-right-in-the-universe when I saw Ethel turn, again. This time more wildly than before. The last thing I remember, was her raising her copy of her Heavenly Highways Hymns hymnal well over her head and coming over the pew at me.

As I came to, the church was empty except for Phil, Grandmother Neary, and Margaret. Margaret had gone out to the well for some water and was sponging me about the face. My grandmother was bandaging a wound on the side of my head. Margaret said she thought I would be alright.

Margaret called on my grandmother several times to check on me. Biney and Ethel never came back to church in Wamsley. Up to her death, Margaret said she could never figure what got into Ethel that night.

I can only hope that if Ethel and I do 'meet on that beautiful shore, in the sweet by and by' that she has forgotten, or at least, forgiven my attempt to make everything right on that sweltering August evening, so many years ago.

~"What we see depends on where we stand." Author unknown.~ 　

Are You Critical?

"Do what you feel in your heart to be right-- for you'll be criticized anyway. You'll be damned if you do, and damned if you don't." Eleanor Roosevelt

How do you feel about the interpretation of this quote? Lately, I view the reality of the words with new interest.

Maybe I'm having slight misconceptions, but I think many Americans have become "permanently critical." I see this in respect to the media, politics, religion, and even personal relationships. I believe that much of this attitude is based on a lack of tolerance in respect to patience. If these people do not rush to criticize, they feel as if they are not in vogue. Now, so much information about scandal, graft, and other negative behavior is being aired that all journalism seems "yellow." Today, it seems that the general attitude of many people suffers from this jaundiced condition. Being overly critical seems to be in fashion.

True, some of the prevalent criticism stems from our human condition. Taught the value of speaking out about perceived misconduct and injustice, human beings naturally practice this behavior of judgment and criticism. This seems perfectly natural and often beneficial to all. But, when rank criticism becomes so inherent in every subject that it serves as a constant defense mechanism, its transformation assumes wicked, negative characteristics. The people who practice overcritical behavior may learn that doing so feels good because they love to see other people fear them.

Perry Noble (August 1, 2007 perrynoble.com) points out that criticism can become a habit when people grow up in a family steeped in finding fault. These people may not be aware of the damage they are inflicting by being so critical, and they merely criticize others because they are constantly criticized themselves. Keenly attuned to an environment of negative thinking, these critics pass a bad habit to other generations. People can receive wounds inflicted by criticism in their childhood and carried in their subconscious minds as conditions that later cause them to become sarcastic adults.

Today, it is relatively easy for people to lob accusations and point out problems while sitting behind a computer screen in the comfortable confines of home. How much different would it be for these people to go face-to-face on common ground with their adversaries and have a rich conversation about an issue at hand? In the age of blips of information and dribbles of content, most prefer to aim their venom from afar and rely on minimal context to convey the bite of their message. Used as a defense mechanism, such criticism keeps others from getting too close.

Carla Valencia (http://www.selfesteemawareness.com/) contends that the more conscious people become about negative criticism they receive, the more they realize that these people are in pain and have no other way to express it. These pained people may feel that being critical gives them a great deal of power and control. Their behavior forces others to pay attention to them while they hide their imperfections behind a black veil of criticism.

Valencia makes a distinction between receiving criticism instead of receiving feedback. Excess criticism usually signifies that the critic has low self esteem. People who feel inadequate and who want to feel superior to others put people down through criticism so they can feel better about themselves.

Feelings of superiority stoke the inner fires that make these people feel right in their narrow views. As Neil Rosenthal puts it, being overly critical "convinces me I’m right and you’re wrong and protects me against criticism by striking first." (heartrelationships.com)

On the other hand, good feedback can be dutiful to the critic and very beneficial to the recipient. To gain something useful should always be the goal of the message. In turn, to teach something useful should always be the goal of feedback.

Over criticism serves to degrade and to tear down the self esteem of others. People haunted by anger over unmet goals may live miserable lives and blame others for what has happened to them. (toknowmyself.com)

People may ask themselves, "Am I attempting to better a situation or just be heard? Is it worth it to answer back if I know the other person is resistant to change? Am I offering feedback because of something I fear myself?" When the answer is yes to any of these questions, the critic should see a red flag.

Ron Potter-Efron, author of Rage gives excellent advice to those concerned about being overly critical:

First, Potter-Efron suggests you train yourself to look for the good, instead of the bad in others. Set a goal for the next 24-hours to notice as many good things about the world and about other people as you can. Do this every day for a month. You’re retraining your brain to think in an entirely different way, so it will take time. Second, set a goal of noticing the good in others during moments when you would otherwise only see their bad points. The following question may help you: “I could have complained about …., but instead I noticed….” The more you train yourself to look for the good, the more good you will find. Third, look carefully at your inner critic and what s/he says to you—about you. Your inner critic operates by critiquing, criticizing and correcting your behavior, but frequently does so in a way that really undermines your self-esteem and self-confidence. It can easily make you feel like a mental, intellectual and emotional midget. If you’re pretty critical of others, it’s a fair guess that you’re extremely (critical) of yourself.

Theory and Practice In Afghanistan

Theory and practice-- do they represent different kinds of knowledge? Theory traditionally represents knowledge that is generalized from observation for the purpose of explaining other observations. Its principal purpose lies in the constant perfection of its own explanatory power. (Hans Weiler, Stanford, 2005) On the other hand, contends Weiler, practice is predicated on a more instrumental conception of knowledge that helps to accomplish things, and that proves its worth by how well it does help to accomplish whatever needs to be accomplished.

Practical knowledge is more particular and situational while theoretical knowledge is more general and abstract. Sometimes, theory is taught in the near ideal circumstances of an academic environment. As this academic theory is applied in practice and exposed to a complexity of external constraints, it may meet with less than satisfactory success. Thus, the experience of practice has stimulated, questioned, or enriched the progression of much theoretical knowledge.

The armed forces have always been presented with many important questions about the interaction of theory and practice. Today, the role of an American soldier has changed in theory as the country is presented with the task of combating terrorism in foreign lands. As soldiers struggle with relatively new roles, the practice of counterinsurgency has presented tough, new challenges.

America's war with the Taliban Sunni Islamists is a war of counterinsurgency. Here, photojournalist John D McHugh juxtaposes the theory of the US Counterinsurgency Field Manual with the way it is practiced by US soldiers fighting in Afghanistan:

After spending time with U.S. troops, McHugh contends,"[General] Petraus says America now expects its soldiers to be nation builders as well as warriors. But is too much being asked of them? This is, after all, still a war. I spent nearly two months with the men of Charlie Company. They are all fine soldiers doing their best. They made me laugh, they protected me in times of danger. But are they natural diplomats or nation builders?"

In The Civil War, Caesar wrote that "a good commander should be able to gain as much by policy as by the sword". But, according to McHugh, Roman commanders were first and foremost political leaders. Little distinction was made between civil and military spheres - as is customary now - and oratory, diplomacy and negotiating came naturally Caesar.

Western commanders, first and foremost, are soldiers. They may gain some of the skills of the politician in pretty hit and miss fashion. Add to this, the pressures of battle seem to be very different from the pressures of diplomacy. Yet, as foreign wars are fought with nation building in mind, commanders must address many non-combat issues.

Is there a place, in counterinsurgency, for much greater use of political officers - civilians with expertise in civil administration, policing, and intercultural negotiation - to advise and represent field commanders in political dealings? Or going further, should there be a role for a new type of civil organization that deals with nation building and frontier diplomacy, freeing the military to fight the enemy?

Perhaps the time has come to examine the current theory and practice of strategies to win conflicts with terrorists. In the ever-changing world, better communication gains prominence, even in the face of extreme danger. Whatever the ideal situation, the government must protect our service personnel while implementing successful operations. If that means civilian involvement, let it be so.

Take the time to watch McHugh's video and decide for yourself. Please comment on your reactions.

Here is some information about swine flu taken from an Associated Press article from Geneva.

World Health Organization chief Margaret Chan says the global body is taking the outbreak very seriously. Fatal cases have been reported in Mexico while cases in the United States, so far, have been reported as non-fatal. I have given this information to use as informative background on swine flu. Please do not think I am an expert in disease control or in any other related medical occupation. If you want complete information, please read more about swine flu on the Internet or contact local health departments and/or institutions. Maybe the following text will help a concerned public.

Swine flu is a highly contagious acute respiratory disease normally found in pigs. It spreads through tiny particles in the air or by direct contact. It tends to infect large numbers of a given pig population, killing between 1 and 4 percent of those affected. Not every animal infected displays symptoms.

People usually become infected through contact with pigs, though some cases of limited human-to-human transmission have been reported.

The World Health Organization says properly handled and prepared pork products are safe to eat. Reportedly, the swine flu virus dies when cooked at temperatures of 160 F/70 C or higher.

Pigs in North America are routinely vaccinated for swine flu, but no vaccine exists for humans. In any case, the flu virus evolves quickly, meaning that vaccines are soon obsolete.

"Influenza viruses can be directly transmitted from pigs to people and from people to pigs. Human infection with flu viruses from pigs are most likely to occur when people are in close proximity to infected pigs, such as in pig barns and livestock exhibits housing pigs at fairs. Human-to-human transmission of swine flu can also occur. This is thought to occur in the same way as seasonal flu occurs in people, which is mainly person-to-person transmission through coughing or sneezing of people infected with the influenza virus. People may become infected by touching something with flu viruses on it and then touching their mouth or nose." (The Center for Disease Control and Prevention,

The swine flu virus detected in Mexico and the United States appears to respond to treatment with oseltamivir (Tamiflu) and zanamivir (Relenza). In terms of prevention, maintaining good hygiene, for example regular hand-washing and staying a safe distance from those infected, may help.

(As of April 27, 2009 1:00 PM ET)

State # of laboratory confirmed cases

California 7 cases Kansas 2 cases New York City 28 cases Ohio 1 case Texas 2 cases TOTAL COUNT 40 cases

I always believe that it is better to err on the safe side. Thankfully, public attention has been drawn to the swine flu outbreak. Through reliable information, people can hopefully avoid potential problems with this serious flu and take better care of their loved ones. If others believe they may be infected already, I urge them to take quick action. I think one must heighten the awareness of such an outbreak with a degree of caution so as not to spread needless fear.

Information is available for anyone concerned. If people believe, for any reason, they have had symptoms of the flu or contact with the flu, I encourage them to seek proper medical attention. Most of us will open our eyes a little wider to potential dangers, and, hopefully, this outbreak will soon disappear. Please, use the blog entry only as a starting point for any further investigation. As frightening as any health threat becomes, knowledge and prompt treatment may be our best weapons.

Zeke Mullins-- Television Career

This blog entry was made possible by Doug Parsley and Larry Mullins, Zeke's son.

Many do not realize the prominant place local radio celebrity Zeke Mullins holds in the seminal roots of American country music. Zeke has been a popular disc jockey in Portsmouth, Ohio, since 1956, and he has been performing country music since I don't know when. While others have given way to modern influences in this form of music, Zeke has remained true to his hillbilly roots. A beloved member of the community, Zeke Mullins has captured the hearts of listeners with his honest style and unique country humor.

To the younger citizens of our area, Zeke's brush with Hollywood stardom is a lesser-known tale.

Route 66 was a CBS television series that aired weekly from 1960 to 1964 starring George Maharis (Buz) and Martin Milner (Tod). "Black November," the first episode of the series, was filmed in Concord, Kentucky, and some people from the area got parts in the film.

Zeke Mullins had a speaking part in "Black November," playing one of the thugs in a lumber camp town with a deep dark secret where the stars were stranded when their car broke down.

Because of a snow storm on location, the crew had to fly Zeke to Hollywood to finish the film.

Here's a brief summary of the episode for those who remember the series thanks to tv.com:

Tod's wealthy father dies, leaving the Yale grad penniless but for his 1960 blue Chevrolet Corvette. He meets Buz, who worked for Tod's father, and the two decide to start driving across the country. The Corvette breaks down in a small Mississippi town with some very nasty residents. The boys discover that the town hosted a POW camp during WW II and that the town boss had an escaped prisoner lynched when his son was killed in action. The boss plans to lynch Tod and Buz to keep the town's secret.

Here is a little trivia about the episode that may interest local readers. Author Jack Kerouac contemplated suing the show's producers claiming the show was taken from his book On The Road. He also didn't like the fist fights that Buz and Tod got into.

Zeke's television career may have been short lived, but, hopefully, this remembrance will help endear him as a local celebrity. Zeke, we love you!

Miss California and first runner-up in Sunday's Miss USA contest, Carrie Prejean, a 21 year old junior at San Diego Christian College is studying to become a special education teacher for children in elementary school. Reportedly, Carrie lives life to the fullest, and is reminded every day by the verse Philippians 4:13: "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."

Now the center of controversy, Ms. Prejean answered a question regarding same-sex marriage in Sunday's contest. She said, "I think it's great that Americans are able to choose one or the other. We live in a land that you can choose same-sex marriage or opposite marriage and, you know what, in my country and my family I think that I believe that a marriage should be between a man and a woman. No offense to anyone out there but that's how I was raised and that's how I think it should be between a man and a woman."

The crowd actually booed as a result, while blogger and pageant judge Perez Hilton, a self-described gossip queen who posed the question, frowned. Perez later called Prejean a "dumb bitch," but eventually apologized for the remark. A "burn-her-at-the-stake" parade is now being led by media opportunist Perez Hilton, who ripped Ms. Prejean on his blog after the show, using crude obscenities as he continued to attack her at every turn on his media blitz.

Keith Lewis, co-director of the Miss California competition, told FOXNews.com that he was "saddened" by Prejean's statement. And Go-director Shanna Moakler, best know as Travis Barker's wife in the MTV reality show "Meet the Barkers," said that she fully supported Lewis' condemnation of Prejean's views while she supported Prejean's convictions.

Prejean believes the comment did cost her the crown. She continued. "It is a very touchy subject and [Hilton] is a homosexual, and I see where he was coming from and I see the audience would've wanted me to be more politically correct. But I was raised in a way that you can never compromise your beliefs and your opinions for anything."

"I feel like I won," Ms. Prejean said. "I feel like I'm the winner. I really do."

To me, the incredible part of this story seems to be the lack of common respect for Carrie Prejean's opposing views and the ridiculous expectations of pageant officials that Carrie should lie about her beliefs in order to appease the public and attain a beauty title. After all, why was she asked an opinionated question in the first place? Was she supposed to issue a canned response or succinctly state and defend her views?

In her answer, Prejean politely acknowledged the opposition, gave concession for others who defend a different stand, and supported her own position with adequate argument. In my book, that is sound argumentation. Coming from her Christian background, the answer was both sincere and full of self-conviction.

What if Carrie Prejean had just declined to answer such a personal question? Would the same attacks on her character have been made, or would she have been applauded? Everyone, including Prejean, knows that pageant questions are frequently loaded to elicit appeasing, mainstream answers. I applaud her courage to let her own truths prevail. It certainly seems strange that Judge Hilton was chosen to ask this question in the first place, putting his well-known beliefs to the test of a Miss USA contestant. This kind of public goading is ridiculous.

Lastly, why did such a question and answer raise controversy in, of all things, a beauty pageant?

Does Carrie Prejean have the obligation to conform her personal views on morality to win the pageant title? If so, what does the title mean? I thought deception and susceptibility to mind control were negative aspects of character. Evidently, others would prefer lockstep adherence to some sort of political correctness. Perhaps, the Miss USA committee should screen state-level participants to find such so-called "correct" mentality. But perhaps, Miss USA should wake up to reality and drop such inane questioning from its program.

Congratulations to Carrie Prejean. I hope people respect you more now as an honest individual even if they refused to accept you as Miss USA. No doubt your convictions to your religion have been tested in the national forum.

A Funeral For a Friend

Today I was witness to the most interesting farewell I've ever attended. At noon, I went to the graveside funeral of a young friend. The bright sun and pleasant temperature were accompanied by a warm, steady breeze. In the cemetery, sixty or so people gathered in ideal conditions to say their final goodbyes to the deceased. The hearse arrived and the pallbearers dutifully carried the coffin to the grave. So far, the funeral seemed pretty normal, didn't it? The actual service began, and I realized I was witnessing an event that blended several customs in a very unique fashion. My friend had been a veteran, a Christian, and a Cherokee Native American. All of these associations were represented this day at the grave site as part of the last rites. First of all, three Cherokee women dressed in long, homemade skirts and native Cherokee attire started a small fire and cleansed the area around the grave with its smoke. They used their hands as if to funnel the small white clouds to their release overhead. The smoke smelled aromatic, almost like sweet incense as it wafted through the air. Its subtle odor gently lifted my spirits as it reminded me of campfires and the hearth of home. Next, the Christian minister offered a prayer, followed by three young singers, two girls and a boy, harmonizing to "Angel Band" and "I'll Fly Away." Their voices were heartfelt and clear, wavering sometimes in pitch, which added to the human element of their presentation. The old songs drew several in the crowd to mouth the lyrics and nod in apparent approval. "When the shadows of this life have gone,I'll fly away;Like a bird from prison bars has flown,I'll fly away," they joyously sang. With both of my feet upon the lush, green grass and both of my eyes discovering their home-spun sincerity, my own soul began to take wing. Then, the American Legion Commander gave thanks to the deceased and his family for my friend's military service. As the flags of the color guard stood faithful witness, the Chaplain spoke,“For as much as God hath taken out of the world the soul of our departed comrade, we therefore commit his (her) body to the ground to sleep and his soul to endless peace to rest. The dust returneth to earth as it was, and the spirit returneth unto God who gave it.” These brief, fitting remarks supported in fellowship and belief by two disciplined lines of crisply uniformed veterans were followed by the precise folding of the American flag, its solemn presentation to the family, the traditional three volley musketry salute, and then "Taps" from a solitary bugle. The final solemn notes echoed among the stones and trees in the otherwise silent cemetery as even the birds held silent for the dutiful remembrance. As the last notes of the bugle faded, the Cherokee women sang a mournful song that hearkened the return of the sacred eagle to earth to claim a new, bright day for the Cherokee nation. The tonal native refrain put me in mind of a very soft, soulful chant filled with eternal hope and spiritual power. The song was sung with the light accompaniment of a small native drum, setting a natural end with its simple rhythm. Finally, one of the Native women lit a pipe to enable her heart to speak true, and she silently offered smoke to the Seven Sacred Directions (north, south, east, and west) representing the four seasons as spiritual ties to the earth and to the remaining directions of above, below, and within signifying the sun of the Great Creator, the earth Mother, and the heart of the self. This acknowledgement of the Native Medicine Wheel held people at its center and then illustrated that all worlds, states, and beings are greatly affected by the myriad of forces all around and within them. After the woman released the smoke from her ceremonial pipe, the crowd began the friendly task of wishing relatives and others best wishes and condolences for their loss. I walked away with a happy, peaceful spirit as others milled about. For me, the striking nature of the funeral today became the fluidity and common theme in the ceremonies I had just witnessed. Christians, Native Americans, and military personnel had all answered a similar call to the grave site. All were there to honor the life of a departed human being and to help usher his soul to its rightful place in the afterlife. And, all of the ceremonies I had witnessed seemed to flow naturally within the context, although each separate part of the funeral was different in content. In fact, I left having believed I had just witnessed a coming together of all parts of my friend's character-- something I had rarely been privileged to understand at most funerals I have attended. The remainder of my afternoon was spent in putting reason to the uplifting attitude the funeral had instilled in me. At last, I came to grips with my experience. My soul felt uplifted by the common belief in faith and deliverance present at the funeral. To honor my friend, all of the groups at the funeral displayed their firm faith in God and mankind while assuring deliverance of his soul to a better life. As part of the proof provided by each group, they singularly exhibited very meaningful commitments fulfilled by the deceased. And, all present who witnessed this harmony shared the peace of my friend's final rest. Now, I remember looking at the foreboding coffin and believing it might be a beautiful painted mount my friend swiftly rode to heaven.

Walking Through Andersonville

I find it very fulfilling that people are willing to share important, personal information on the Internet with others who would likely never read such accounts on any other forum. My faith in the power and in the good of net communication is becoming stronger each day.

I have told students about the importance of the written word, and I try to practice what I preach. Excuse the cliche'. The ability to write allows us to explore our understandings and extend our knowledge to limits unknown. Feel free to e-mail me with posts to publish at frank.thompson51@yahoo.com.

Dennis Hawkins, again sharing his writing on the blog, provides readers a unique opportunity to explore infamous Andersonville, the largest Confederate military prison during the American Civil War. There, prisoners dealt with cruel guards, disease, starvation, and exposure to the elements. Almost 13,000 people died at Andersonville. The site was eventually purchased by the Federal government in 1910. The prisoners' burial ground at Andersonville has been made a national cemetery, in which are 931 graves marked "unknown."

Dennis's writing reveals his deep understanding of the importance of sharing his family's unique story with others. Also, this piece confirms his faith in a higher power. Here is the writing of Dennis Hawkins. Enjoy this voyage into American history. And, check out the movie about Andersonville. I have seen this excellent film. Again, thank you, Dennis. The writing is truly amazing.

Before I began recording any of my family's history, I would listen to a few of the stories told me by my Grandmother, Birdie Bailey Hawkins Stevenson Dunn, her sister, my Great-Aunt Bea, (Bertha Lee), Bailey Porter, and a few stories from their father, Melvin Bailey, the son of Daniel Bailey. They each told me that Daniel had been taken prisoner in the Civil War and had been held in a prisoner-of-war camp. They each further told me stories about Daniel. I do not remember, today, which person told what part of the story, but, together, they told this story. They said that Daniel didn't fare well, and because he had been given coarsely-ground field corn to eat, he died of internal problems after his release from the camp, after the war. They further told a story that I thought had become a family legend, and, probably, wasn't altogether true. They told of a place where too many men were confined together. Prisoners did not have proper shelter; they did not have proper food; they would be shot if they walked in the wrong place; they did not have enough good water. As the prisoners' time there, in that place, lengthened, the conditions worsened. The men became ill from the bad water. Several of the men prayed for water. A storm came up one night. Lightening struck the ground. From the place where the lightning struck, water sprang from the ground. The men were saved. They called the place spring "Providence Spring". All this was a wonderful story. I wanted to believe it all, but, something told me that it just couldn't, possibly, be true. Some time passed. I joined the military. I became further interested in finding the truth about my ancestor. Brother, Phil started to search family history in a serious manner. Phil found that Great-Great Grandfather, Daniel had, in fact, been taken prisoner at the Battle of Nashville, and had been held at the dreaded Andersonville. Daniel's archived record stated that he did die of intestinal problems from the food he had eaten while incarcerated. I, somehow, secured a copy of the Emmy and Peabody winner, "Andersonville Trial", which was directed by George C. Scott and had an all-star cast which included Martin Sheen, William Shatner and Richard Basehart. In this film, many of the same conditions of which my ancestors had spoken were discussed in the dialogue of the trial of Camp Commandant, Wirtz. This further heightened my interest. (Captain Wirtz was executed for war crimes because of his treatment of prisoners at Andersonville. He was the only person to have received this punishment for war crimes committed in the Civil War.) I went to Georgia, a few years ago, for the commissioning of my, then, son-in-law as a Second Lieutenant in the Army at Ft. Benning. I decided to go on to Andersonville. Finally, after many stories, and some research, I visited the site of Andersonville Prison. I knew this was the same place that my family had described. It was a though I was walking with them and Grandfather Daniel on the same ground he had walked so many years before. And the stories about the corn and ill treatment, they were true. There were pictures everywhere. Photographers were permitted to take pictures, in the day...and the photographs had been preserved. There was one story that I found particularly interesting. The water-starved prisoners had prayed for water because they had no clean water. A storm came up. Lightning struck the ground. A spring came up from the ground. It's called, "Providence Spring". The spring still runs, today. I know. I've been there. This 'Doubting Thomas' put his hands in that spring and started to take a drink. I stopped, abruptly, when I noticed a small sign, hanging from the top of the spring house. It read, "Water Unfit For Human Consumption". The tears still well in my eyes after all these years and many, many tellings of this same story. I believe God allowed me to find this truth to make me realize the importance of remembering our family's experiences. ~ Dennis W. Hawkins "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." ~George Santayana

The Rest of the Story

Yesterday I requested that readers share some of their life-defining moments. I am pleased to say that my friend, Dennis Hawkins, felt kind enough to write a recollection of some of his defining moments. Here is a little background on Dennis. He has had 23+ years in military service, and he is Vietnam vet and an electrician. He is fond of John Simon's book, Cowboy Copas and the Golden Age of Country Music, especially since it contains stories about his father and grandfather who lived in Blue Creek, Ohio, where Copas began playing music. Dennis is married to Josie Fagan-Hawkins, a great singer herself. I think you will find Dennis's writing to be not only inspiring, but also touchingly personal. It serves as a testament to his father and his family as well as a tribute to the generosity of a prominent area businessman. Without further ado, here is Dennis sharing a meaningful part of his life. Thank you, Dennis. Many have said of me that they can tell I am retired military. They usually cite that their rationale to that conclusion is based on the fact that I call older men, and some younger men, 'Sir', and that I commonly address ladies by using the word 'Ma'am'. Of course, the military had it's influence on my choice of verbiage. But, if you would, please, permit me 'The Rest Of My Story'. I was not born into a wealthy family. Sometimes, we needed help. Many times during my life, my parents reminded me of the kindness of Mr. Henry Oberling, who was the founder of Oberling Motors, in Portsmouth. Mr. Oberling had hired my father as an auto mechanic. My father did not have proper tools with which to ply his trade. Mr. Oberling loaned my father the money to buy his tools under the condition that he repay Mr. Oberling with payments from his weekly pay. Dad agreed to the arrangement. Shortly before my father passed, I was privileged to witness a conversation between him and one Marty Mounts. The late Marty Mounts was widely acknowledged in the Portsmouth area as one of the finest vehicle mechanics available. Marty explained to Dad that, although he had been in the business all his life, the money just wasn't there. Dad said that he understood. He told Marty of working for Mr. Oberling in the middle 1950's for $19.50 take-home pay for a five-and-one-half-day week. Dad added, "Things were cheaper in the 50's..., but not that much cheaper." Some time later, Dad and I talked, as we worked on the restoration of his beloved Model A Ford, with those tools Mr. Oberling had helped Dad buy, so many years before. I told Dad that Brother Phil and I didn't know we were poor, as we were growing up. Dad responded, "I know that, Denny..., but Mom and I surely did". Dad died on April 30, 2008. Shortly after Dad's death, Mom received a note from Mr. Henry Oberling, II. In his note, Mr. Oberling stated that he was honored to have known my father. He further explained that his father had told him, on several occasions, a story of my father. It seems that Mr. Oberling, Sr. had made the same deal about the purchase of tools with many of his hired mechanics, through his years in the automobile business. In his note, Mr. Oberling, II revealed that my father was one of only two mechanics who had repaid his father for their tools. No, we weren't wealthy, but my father and mother have left me with this, and many other, defining moments. Oh! The 'Sir and Ma'am' thing. We would usually visit family on Sunday's, after church. We would make our rounds in the Wamsley/Blue Creek, Ohio area. Dad and Mom wanted us to know the importance of family; to know who our family was; to respect our family; to appreciate good food, while exhibiting proper manners; and to observe and participate in the family tradition of returning thanks to our Creator for all He had provided, not just on the occasion of the Sunday Dinner meal, but, before the consumption of any meal, no matter how small. On one visit to my great-grandfather Bailey's home, my grandfather addressed me. To his query, I replied, "Yeah.", and went on about my way. Unbeknownst to me, my father was listening. He stopped me, and said, "You say, 'Yes, Sir', to your Grandfather." I didn't. I laughed, instead. Dad took me by the arm, and walked me to the back yard of the house. There, I received a bit of an 'attitude adjustment'. Afterwards, he walked me back to my grandfather, where I was delighted to address him as 'Sir'. My laughter had vanished. As a matter of fact, I couldn't even muster a smile. From that day to this, I have known to respect others by addressing them as 'Sir' or 'Ma'am'. No, we were not wealthy; we were rich. Rich in the, nowadays, too often neglected, common courtesies of days-gone-by. Rich with values. Rich in life's lessons. Rich with life's simple pleasures. That 'Defining Moment' was 'THE DEFINING MOMENT' which reminds me, on every occasion, when I utter the words, 'Sir' of 'Ma'am'. And now, you know..., 'The Rest Of My Story'. By Dennis W. Hawkins

Defining Moments, Part I

What made you decide to be who you are at this moment in your life? Many people contemplate this question and seek an answer in an effort to share their lives with others who may benefit in some way by applying the knowledge. Of course, biographies and autobiographies of famous people often explore the complex makeup of these individuals. These stories may be of great interest, but I wonder what defined simple folk like you and me. So, what about the answer to the question posed? It is pertinent to everyone and although most people change throughout life, some basic core of being is stubbornly held by the individual. Relationships, environment, genetics, education-- all seem to play an important part in life. Still, looking within, people have difficulty finding the actual turning points in their lives. I can explore several of my defining influences. Of course, I thank my parents the most for innumerable reasons and for countless lessons, so I will attempt to record some other important parts of my makeup. First of all, I was raised in an environment that lacked little. I had a mother, a father, and a brother-- all of whom loved me and cared for me every day. We were never rich, but I cannot say we were poor. I have never known the struggle of those who have faced poverty. I don't believe I was totally spoiled, but I definitely never lacked for love and special care. People were always there for me. I had, early on, background and instruction in the church, in patriotism, in manners, and in the rewards of education. I was fairly independent at a young age, partly because my brother was twelve years older than I, and partly because I lived a good distance away from other children my age. I explored the mysteries of the hills behind my house and the nearby Scioto River with my beloved pet dog. I soon developed a healthy fascination with nature. In my earliest memories, I adored sports. I played pretty well as I participated in team sports of baseball and football actively through high school. As a child, I would play ballgames by myself in the backyard, making up lineups composed of my favorite players who battled opposing foes. I think I always had a ball of some kind in my hand to throw, bounce, or kick. My team was always the home team, the Cincinnati Reds. In grade school, I can vividly remember being read to after lunch --mainly A. A. Milne and Laura Ingalls Wilder books. Teachers were very kind but also very strict. I gained many friends in class and on the playground. I got into trouble for some minor disagreements but was always glad to let the school authorities discipline me, knowing that if the infraction was serious enough to call my parents, I would also be disciplined at home. We called it "taking our licks." My schoolmates never really took long field trips together or played scores of organized games. We did, however, live all our spare moments on the sandlots and in the fields of the area. Even when we attended a high school football game as grade schoolers, we played our own football game in a lot beside the high school field. We didn't have coaches or parents who drove us to play a single sport year round in organizational and instructional leagues. I can't really remember if I was 13 or 14 when I began working during the summers at Lake Margaret as a lifeguard and maintenance person. My employer, Peggy Campbell, had already retired from her job by the time I was employed, so she was not young at the time. She expected employees to work hard and accomplish jobs well. Peggy was a dynamo who could work rings around anyone I have ever met. She was a model of consistency. Like my old grade school teachers, she was strict, but she had a heart of gold, claiming me as one of her own and encouraging me to excel. What a lady she was. The organized sports I played in school taught me many meaningful lessons. In grade school, our teams were always very good, so skills and fundamentals were stressed. But, as a football player in my first two years of high school, I discovered how to lose. I found out quickly that even a decent underclassman athlete could get his tail kicked with regularity. I learned to fight back, but I also learned to take a physical beating from someone better than I. I developed respect for my opponents. Maybe, this is why I cherished winning meaningful sports contests so much. Also, high school sports taught me a valuable sense of community and a lifelong love of group membership. I played in the state baseball tournament as a freshman. I got to play in every game and started in the State Finals. Even though I had to come out in the 3rd inning, I was extremely happy. We became State Runner-up that year. I think that, in itself, built confidence in my abilities. My high school days were magical. Being a student in a small school, I quickly learned the identity of all my classmates. I served as class president all four years while earning good grades by just following instructions and doing my work. Our group of buddies grew closer over the years as we lived the good life of social interaction, pausing every now and then to take a test or do our homework. More to come at a later date. Please share the story of your defining moments. I would love to know. frank.thompson51@yahoo.com

Misunderstandings and Language

It's pretty easy for others to misunderstand you whether you're speaking or writing. Words are just symbols used to convey meaning, so words, themselves, often fail to convey accurate interpretations of intentions. Speech does offer inflection, gestures, tones, and body language as meaningful companions to words whereas writing depends entirely upon its own relatively simple (often mechanical} conventions on cold paper (or today, on monitor) to elicit understanding.

Some people are content to live with misunderstandings due to language misuse, but many would like to minimize these negative consequences.

In both speaking and writing, the old cliche' "words are cheap" can certainly apply. Some throw excess language into the air as scattered seeds, hoping part of their cast falls into fertile ears. Of course, lack of economic distribution creates great waste in such an approach.

Caught in the shower of unfertilized words, the readers/listeners are struck by some of the message as they dutifully attempt to comprehend each statement. The words that do hit their intended targets may germinate in the mind and create appropriate understandings. Other wasted words merely clog comprehension or fall to their fateful demise.

Sooner or later, the readers/listeners become acutely aware that excess language is a smoke screen for simpler intentions. They overtax themselves to strain the kernels of knowledge from their ornamental camouflage and realize the work is not worth the effort. Unfortunately, meanings become secondary as misunderstandings grow stronger. The flood of words produces a drop of reason. Seneca aptly stated,"What is required is not a lot words, but effectual ones."

Just as hazardous to creating understanding in speech and writing is the lack of words. Very often bare elaboration leaves readers/listeners puzzled and groping for more. Mature practitioners learn to illustrate their communication with adequate, accurate detailed development. Giving rich, pertinent information, these speakers/writers stay on point and deliver properly groomed discourse. Speech does offer opportunities for verbal clarifications and interruptions. Usually writing takes care of these concerns in revision.

One fault observed in many Internet discussions and blogs is this lack of adequate development. Instead of thoughtful language delivery, most people practice a loose approach that has many readers asking for clarifications. Since the delivery of further elaboration is almost instantaneous, many do not worry about being misunderstood as they press their keyboards. Consider the not-so-distant past when snail mail communication would have complicated misunderstandings due to increased time of delivery.

Quickly, the Internet has become not only the playground of the quipster but also the home range of those who write formal communication. Forums ranging from chat rooms to blogs to publications attract writers by the millions. Many have found they must peak their language skills to be effectively understood. In truth, most English language arts teachers are smiling more than a stage full of Miss America contestants over this increased language awareness.

Whether speaking or writing, people must consider the needs of their audience if they wish to produce understandable words and meanings. The simple goal is to share information, but the information is meaningless if at least minimal context is lacking.

Who likes to iron out misunderstandings or to be misinterpreted? Words, themselves, are very limited in meaning whereas proper combinations of words produce effectual communication. So, even in bare blips of speaking/writing, people must develop and organize. Albert Einstein once said, "All that is valuable in human society depends upon the opportunity for development accorded the individual." This must surely apply to communication.

Language and understanding go hand in hand. Don't you hate to be misunderstood when trying to communicate important information? The risks of losing friendships or losing credibility are great for those who view and use language in vague terms. You must respect the power of language to realize its potential. Often, a little consideration of audience and intended meaning before the pen or lips move will save extra efforts at reconciliation.

Just for fun, consider five possible meanings of this speech utterance depending upon the inflection of voice used by the speaker.

"I did not say you stole the money."

Answers:

"I did not say I stole the money."

"I did not say I stole the money."

"I did not say I stole the money."

"I did not say I stole the money."

"I did not say I stole the money."

And how about this bit of college humor to illustrate the possible interpretation of a statement taken out of context? (collegehumor.com)

"The girls at this party are all ugly."

Freshman: None of these girls will talk to me.

Sophomore: I'm not drunk enough yet.

Junior: The girls at this party are very unattractive.

Senior: I'm not as confident in my ability to attract women since I lost the ability to see my feet.

Alumni: Jeez, I hope my daughter isn't one of the 'ugly girls' in her grade, because judging by the girls who came to her birthday party, yikes...

A Distant Memory

Pretend I don't exist.

Discarded among the refuse of your history

And buried under the landfill of your passing days,

I remain as something learned and waiting for release.

I have been surviving in an alteration of your genes

Suspended for long-term recall.

I have built new synapses as my home,

And I refuse to leave the confines of my cerebral home.

When your present tried to evict me from the premises

I simply slipped deeper into your cloudy past.

Camouflaged among other experiences and encounters

I survived the cleansing of your soul.

Your conscious delivery created me long ago.

So now all the future activity of my networks

Is merely related expression of my birth.

I have metamorphed into a small malignant growth subsiding in remission.

True, I am no longer free to roam the broad expanse of your recollection.

You have repressed me neatly over time

And this lack of stimulation has made me lean and hungry.

But my survival is testimony to my unrelenting nature.

I have long been suffused with your emotions and confirmed by your reasoning.

Once I worked hand-in-hand with these forces to be your friend.

In my weakened state, I can no longer provide detailed and contextual information.

I am a just a dependent of a personal episode in your generic recollection.

Although I cease to be on your mind and lovingly nurtured,

I remain in your head like an orphaned child

Abandoned and forgotten by its mother

And left to a fate unknown.

So, you wait and rely on time to decay any trace of my existence.

But, in truth, you can not obliterate me but only change me

By jamming the molecular machinery that supplies my energy

With stronger newborn memories of your own.

Time-- Friend or Foe?

"Men talk of killing time, while time quietly kills them." ~Dion Boucicault

Time is my biggest commodity these days. This is ironic because when I was a teacher, time seemed to be the one thing I always needed. Then, time seem to be too limited for almost everything in my life. At that point I thought, "If I only had more time, I would be a better parent, a better teacher, and generally a better person." When others would worry about important matters, I always worried about time. I never liked to be rushed, yet I always felt rushed. Others around me didn't feel the rush to the same degree, so I tried to forge ahead.

Now that I am retired, I have time-- time to think, to relax, to do most anything. Now, I don't worry much about time, but my worries have shifted to other matters. Now, I realize an entirely different set of concerns governs those who have enough time on their hands. The reality of my situation has become apparent to me: time is now my best resource. By that, I mean I own the time to spend or spare as I please. My biggest enemy had been subdued.

If you have never experienced this "time rich" position, let me tell you a little about it. Now, with plentiful time, I find myself communicating much more on a personal level. For example, "How are you?" can become a conversation instead of a pleasantry. I don't feel guilty about spending the time talking with others about simply anything. In fact, I don't feel guilty about wasting some time on fairly trivial matters.

Also writing has returned to my life since I now have the time to compose. I can write about subjects that interest me instead of writing about forced subjects. Since writing is no longer part of my work, I enjoy doing it again. And, I don't have to worry about injecting foreign attitudes into my writing to satisfy an employer or to appease an unfamiliar audience. I can write at ease.

I think my powers of observation have improved too. I can move, see, think, feel, and hear more of my environment in my slow-paced world. I am making more of a conscientious effort to experience the little things around me. At one point, I thought retirement would be the time for travel and for indulgence in more expensive pleasures, but now I am content to be more of a homebody while spending little. Simple pleasures are my staple.

The attractions of my world have changed. A laugh, a song, a drink, a friend, and a meal have taken on more significance in my life. Realizing that I have limited resources has become somewhat of a comfort in that it forces me to limit my appetite for silly desires. I often wonder if people need the extra comforts to be happy. I sincerely think that I don't.

Maybe, if anything has remained constant for me, even in my "time richness," it is that I operate most happily when I am not forced or pushed to the brink of stress. At most points in my life, I have not performed my best when overly stressed. Although I have developed some good defenses to counter these stresses, I can still feel their effects when crammed full of them.

So, having more time has relieved me of most stressful situations of my past, but I now have to realize that certain stresses can never be avoided. With increased time, I am able to be relaxed and to deal logically with many of these new obstacles. For me, time has become an ally. I realize a slow pace can be a reality, one that needs to be taken by some. I have begun to count myself among the some.

In closing, I have also come to believe that those who suffer the pressures of time should begin to lessen them as soon as possible. I don't mean folding up shop and becoming a beach bum. I do mean changing schedules when necessary and letting the steam off before anxiety develops into something far more serious. The best people perform most efficiently in their own comfortable environments, and we are all different. It is just hard for some of us to maintain proper balance in the ever-increasing pace of the world today.

I Heard an Artistic Recording

When the recording is ambient and clear

The speakers layer the sound

To give the near perfect illusion of full production in the room.

Nothing really blares in this solid, flat environment

But each quality of recorded sound is accentuated

In tones rather than in excess volume.

The album becomes three dimensional

And the depth of the music becomes natural

As playback differentiates the instrumental and vocal timbre.

The spectral envelope is pushed within the entire waveform

Without over-coloration or profuse electronic equalization

And each track clears the wall of sound to find its proper spatial pinpoint.

Superb dynamic range assures the highs and lows are faithfully reproduced

Without distortion while reproducing quiet passages and powerful crescendos

In levels that capture the passion and intensity of the recording.

Put simply, there's more there, there.

The ears affirm the quality of art of the original master,

Not a cheaply pressed reproduction.

The audiophile feels the dramatic effect of the music

Set free from the restraints of simple phasing and raw sound,

And he smiles because he fully hears the heavenly creation.

Oh Death, Where Is Thy Sting?

"The little-understood truth is that God's initial purpose for mankind is that he not die. The temporary existence that ends in death is not God's original purpose for mankind. It is part of the curse for sin brought on humanity by the wrong choice made by our first parents, and all have chosen to follow that sinful way ever since" (Romans 3:23)

So as we humans live with the first sin of Adam and Eve, we do, indeed, die. I find myself with many questions about eternal life. As an inquisitive human being, I have often wondered what happens to the soul upon death.

I know discussion of this subject makes some squeamish and others refuse to even consider the final outcome of earthly existence. But, I think, as people with intelligence, we must all consider the possibilities, and certainly the probabilities of the destination of the soul when the body returns to dust. Much of my answer to this question calls upon Biblical translation.

I do have many questions about the entire subject of the afterlife. For example, "What about infants and other young children who die long before they can understand or gain the maturity to receive the Holy Spirit and seek God's Kingdom? What about people who live and die in nations where they may never even hear the name of Jesus Christ, much less make any kind of commitment to Him? What about people who adhere to high moral values but don't hold to any particular religious beliefs or commitment?" Too many questions beg for answers. In this entry, I will try to address my findings for one: "What happens to the soul when we die?"

The Scriptures show that two distinct dimensions of existence do exist and that humans are composed of elements of both of these dimensions. This accounts for the spiritual and physical dimensions and each is separate from the other in function and creation; however, both work together to enable humans to exist on a higher plane of consciousness than the rest of physical creation. "And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him (God the Father) which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell." (Matthew 10:28)

The Bible says little about what happens to the soul between death and the Last Day when Christ returns. On the other hand, Scripture does speak far more often about Resurrection on the Last Day and the eternal life or death that will follow. After the Judgment Day, both the souls and bodies of all people will spend eternity either in heaven or in a place of eternal torment (John 5:28-29). At this moment all people will all be changed in the twinkling of an eye.

But, what about the destination of the soul immediately after death? Does the soul sleep and remain with the body until that final resurrection on the Last Day? Or does the soul leave the body at death, to be with the Lord in Paradise (if Christian), or to a place of punishment (non-Christian)?

"The Seventh Day Adventists, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and some evangelical Christians hold to the soul sleep view. Lutherans, Catholics, and most Protestants hold to the soul leaving the body view," according to Dr. Richard P. Bucher (www.orlutheran.com). Depending upon the belief of the individual, contradictions to both widely held views can be found in the Bible.

The Catholic faith would add another destination to the mix, believing if a person dies in a state of grace but loves God "imperfectly," their souls would enter Purgatory, where they must be purged and refined by fire.

The soul sleep view is supported by Solomon as he notes that the dead have no awareness, nor are they in some other state of consciousness: "For the living know that they will die; but the dead know nothing . . ." (Ecclesiastes 9:5). Thus, the person who has died is unconscious and unaware of the passing of time. In explaining the condition of the dead, Daniel compares death to sleep. Sleep is the most common word for death in the Bible, occurring over 50 times in the Old Testament and 18 times in the New. (www.orlutheran.com)

Soul sleep proponents contend that the billions of humans who have lived and died over the centuries are completely unaware of the passage of time. An awareness of passage of this interim time between the moment of death, when conscious thoughts cease, and the instant when they awake to life again at the Resurrection does not exist for them. It is compared to sleep without dreaming. In other words, in death, humans are totally unconscious with no activity or knowledge of any kind. "There is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest." (Ecclesiastes 9:5, 6, 10.)

Proponents of the belief that the soul travels upon physical death contend that both Christians and non-Christians leave the body and go to another place. The souls of the unrighteous (unbelievers) go to a place of punishment until the Last Day. The souls of the righteous (believers) go to be with the Lord in Paradise. A classic example of this understanding is the criminal who was crucified next to Jesus. When he asked the Lord, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom,” Jesus replied, “Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise” (Luke 23:43).

The soul travel belief contends that it is highly probable that the verses in support of soul sleep are speaking of the fate of the body only. Also, this belief finds that New Testament verses contradict Old Testament contentions of soul sleep. "And we must always interpret the Old Testament by the New Testament, since the New is the fulfillment and culmination of the Old," states Dr. Bucher.

In the Garden of Eden, God gave us this temporary, mortal life to prepare us for eternal life. The hope and promise of that resurrection is a belief all Christians hold. But knowing there is also a "resurrection of judgment" gives a reason to pause. God alone knows the answers to the mysteries of life and death. It leaves it up to us to prepare for our own futures.

Do a Little Shakespeare!

(CNN) Mayor Richard M. Daley of Chicago, Illinois, has declared Thursday as "Talk Like Shakespeare Day" to celebrate the 445th birthday of the man many consider the greatest playwright in the English language. The bard's actual birth date is not known for sure, many scholars think it was April 23, 1564.

Daley encouraged city residents to "screw their courage to the sticking place and celebrate Shakespeare by vocal acclamation of his words."

So, CNN.com has issued the challenge for the rest of the country to play along and talk like William Shakespeare. It's all in good fun and not too difficult to play along. After all, Shakespeare single-handedly contributed more than 1,700 words and phrases to the English language -- everything from "foul play" to "monumental" to, of course, "all's well that ends well."

I encourage all readers to write their best Shakespearean talk and share here on the blog. Let others see your very own tribute to the king of the English playwrights. Who knows, the exercise may encourage you to share the activity with your friends so that more people may have the opportunity to play with the language. Also, this sounds like a great opportunity for you teachers to incorporate a little fun and English history in their lesson plans.

The unique blend of 16th Century language and 21st Century technology should stimulate the creative juices as well as illustrate the positive power of the Internet. You may find this exercise to be one of your first experiences with Shakespeare. Certainly, the exposure will provide some appreciation of his contributions to the English language. Few others can compare.

Go to talklikeshakespeare.org -- a Web site that the Chicago Shakespeare Theater unveiled Monday. There visitors can share their "Shakespeariences" -- their first memory of Shakespeare or their favorite quotes; subscribe to a Twitter feed where the Bard of Avon will generously translate your 21st-century English into its 16th-century equivalent; or listen to the Q Brothers singing about the finer points of speaking Shakespearean. Did we mention it's a rap song?

The Web site also offers 10 quick pointers on how to talk like Bill. A sampling:

(1) Don't waste time saying "it." Just use the letter "t" ('tis, 'twill, I'll do't).

(2) To add weight to your opinions, try starting them with "methinks," "mayhaps," "in sooth" or "wherefore."

(3) When in doubt, add the letters "eth" to the end of verbs (he runneth, he trippeth, he falleth).

(4) Finally, if you're inclined to yell at the driver who cuts you off as you head to work, why settle for "idiot," when "thou rank white-livered canker-blossom" is so much more satisfying.

You can also consult the random Shakespearean insult generator on the British site william-shakespeare.org.uk. "Thou vain fly-bitten moldwarp!" Now, begin writing. I'm giveng rhymed couplets a shot with the following:

"Me thinks thou findeth great favor

If bard Shakespeare ye doth savor.

Twill give thou verse much fine air

To proclaim, "Fair is foul and foul is fair!"

So, be tardy not good cousin

Tis nothing become of nothing.

Be great in act as ye have been in thought.

Trust the muse if words flow from keyboards not.

For we are such stuff as dreams are made on

In sooth, soon waking visions twill be gone."

Now, be gone, thou tongueless shag-haired incontinent varlet! (Sorry, the Shakespeare in me doth leaketh out.)

Scioto County Drugs

The Portsmouth, Ohio, Post of the Ohio State Highway Patrol ranked third among posts in the state in drug arrests in 2008, behind Stark and Franklin counties. Considering the location of the county and the makeup of its population, this news will likely startle many readers. Stark County made 214 drug arrests followed by Franklin County with 209 and Scioto County with 193. In fact, the relatively similar numbers of drug arrests in Ohio's top three counties may concern Southern Ohio residents even more. It certainly leaves Scioto residents scratching their heads in disbelief.

Portsmouth Post Commander Lt. Mike Crispen said that he believes the reason for so many successful arrests can be partly attributed to the nature of people employed at the post. Crispen said, “We have a very large makeup at this post of employees who grew up in this area, and who know the people in the community, and who know the problems of the community. Some of the other Patrol posts don’t have that luxury at times, especially if they don’t have the problems in their counties that we have here with drugs.” In this sense, close monitoring has paid dividends.

Crispen, when asked why a rural county such as Scioto ranks high in arrests with metropolitan areas such as Franklin County, stated, “There’s always the age-old factors such as the socio-economic system, jobs, and things of that nature, and it being a depression-area at time.” He felt it was hard to get a grasp on exactly why the problem exists to such a degree in Scioto County.

Another factor may simply be the location of the county. Crispen said a lot of drug dealers come from Columbus and Detroit and pass through Scioto County on their way to Huntington to deal drugs.“They can make more money selling some of their stuff down here than they can in Columbus,” he added.

According to Crispen, pills have been on the rise a lot lately. He believes that the accessibility of pills is pretty significant to the high statistic — whether obtained illegally or as by prescription.

I lack the knowledge to explain fully the prevalence of drug problems in Scioto County, where many consider relatively safe, low-crime conditions exist. In fact, I find it hard to believe the money to purchase large quantities of drugs flows in an environment hit hard by poverty and joblessness. Yet, it seems that misery loves company. The rural makeup of Scioto only adds to the paradox. Many parents here in Scioto County, for example, worry about their children encountering crime as they move to urban areas in the state to take jobs and to pursue college educations.

We must acknowledge that desperate people seek desperate measures. I am sure the educational level of the residents comes into play. Addictions thrive in areas full of lost hopes and low on knowledge. Promises of quick money surely tempt many poverty level inhabitants. I would love to read research on per capita money spent on various expenditures such as lottery tickets, cigarettes, and alcohol across the state. Such purchases here are staggering I am sure.

At present, the drug arrest statistics do show a positive side. Law enforcement must be pretty strict in the county considering the population is 79,195 (2000 census). The old home values and standards may be changing, but, at least, the authorities are attempting to stem negative influences with good success rates.