Roads Less Traveled

We are damn near a (if not “the”) fork in the road.  It is one that was a long time in coming to, but given all which has transpired in the last 100 years or so, perhaps not all that surprising that we finally arrived at this point.

Looking at the signpost what choice will you make.  Which path will you, as an American, as a human being with God given rights to “Life, Liberty, and The Pursuit of Happiness” (or Property, for you purists out there), and the associated “Bill of Rights” which enable you to pursue same, will you continue your travels on?

The fork, to the left (appropriately enough) requires you to pay the tallyman.  To willingly give up many of your “rights”, a large chunk of your income, and potentially your properties as well, in order to “allow” the State to provide services to all.  It requires…demands…you ultimately serve not yourself,  your own best interests or welfare, but suborn all to the will, wisdom, and benevolence of the State and or those appointed by the State to look after it’s own agenda and concerns.  A return to serfdom at best, slavery at worst…but freemen no longer.

The other fork, is an unknown.  It looks the same initially.  There is even a Tallyman … for there will be a “Piper to be payed” down this path too.  In this case, we have no one to blame but ourselves, and for everyday we hesitate in choosing,  until the day comes when the choice be forced upon us, his fee will become increasingly higher.   After the toll, the road turns to the right, vanishing behind a hill.  It may be short with a sudden deadly drop off into the void.  Or long, eventually ending up at that “Shining city on the hill” President Ragen would have described as our potential positive destiny.  But the ultimate end of this path remains an unknown.  What is known, and understood,  is your freedoms,  rights, and responsibilities will be intact and in full force.  For choosing this path will require you to personally resolve, and hopefully, be resolute enough, to keep them.   The toll for this path will be paid in blood, sweat, and tears…in loss of fortunes and family.

Sadly today, this would be the road less traveled.  But it is the road I willingly follow.  It is the one which allows me to at least attempt looking in the mirror each morning.  It is the one which allows me to continue to honor the oath I swore so many times over the past 30-40 years.  It will be the one which allows for the greatest chance of my children, grandchildren, and future generations to at least have an honest chance of having the kinds of opportunities that my generation, and generations past had in reaching for their own versions of “Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness”.

The government already has it’s list(s) of potential troublemakers, rabble-rousers  and (as far as they are concerned) malcontents.  If you are a vet, a conservative, a pro-constitution abiding, pro-freedom to chose and practice your religion of choice (it is not just anti-christian out there folks, it is at the heart of it anti-religion…they want the State to become “your god”), gun owner….well why worry about what a few words said out on the interwebs is going to do.  They will come to your door soon enough, in their own good time.   And yes, I fall into at least one or more of the above.

So it is better to hold my head up high, and let at least a few of my fellow travelers know I stand with them, as much as I am able,  than to reamin silent.

Like this fellow it is the road less traveled for me as well.

Change

Most everyone is saying change is a coming. Doesn’t matter which side of the political fence you are on, one way or another, things are not going to remain the same.

It has been a long time in coming, but as noted here, and elsewhere, it is not like we haven’t seen that the path we were on was not going to lead us to anywhere but where we are right now. There is no need to go into details…you are either well aware of what persons, actions, incidents, or combinations of all the above brought us here; or you are blissfully unaware … following the capricious winds of chance and fate … letting them take you where they will. After all, your “mom and dad” are in the White House, and if you haven’t grown up by now, at the very least thinking about taking something akin to taking responsibility for yourself and your actions, why on earth should you start now. Thinking is soooo 20th century.

So here we are, halfway through the first quarter of the 21st century. The people have been conditioned enough to believe it is the duty of their government (there is that pesky “mom and dad” thing again) to grant their every wish. Free health care? Poof! There ya go, no problem! Want your particular race, religion, creed, and or gender to be considered not merely equal, to what was once “the norm”, but given preferential treatment or status. (Does anyone in the business of mental health and or the study of man/civilizations even consider there to be a “norm” anymore? A bar or standard set to which all else was measured … and heaven forbid perhaps being found to be different, or worse. wanting?)

The language is being dissected to the point where, for any number of reasons, clarity of thought presented via the printed page, is allowed … demanded, to be muddled. Words are banned from use. (Even if they have been used quite correctly up to this point. Try using the word “niggardly“, properly, in conversation and see what happens.) Those not banned are at any given time, bent and messaged to suit the needs of the player (mis)using them.

But enough is enough. The story nears it’s end. The country I grew up in, the values, spirit, and most of the underpinnings which kept it all together, are either long gone or have become discarded rusted out relics. Whatever happens next to the country at large, or various parts of this country, may be commented on here, but there will not be any major pontificating. Certainly there will be no hard and fast information about my preparations (or lack thereof) against the coming storm. The internet is not, and never has been a place of private fire-side chats. All the world can see what has been said (or shown) with little or no effort. The governments need even less to pry.

One last thought before closing this particular rant.

California Murderer Cop, A Staunch Democrat, Clinton and Feinstein supporter!

Perhaps the place of “home grown media” is to be the one(s) who trail just behind the journalistic Caesars, whispering in their collective ears; “Respice post te! Hominem te memento!” (Look behind you! Remember that you are but a man!”). And here again is a case of the media giants freely editing a story in order to meet their own agendas, the facts be damned. The real irony here; those on the net are doing what the media was tasked to do. Keep an eye and an ear on those in power, and pass this along to the public in order that we would know (and hopefully,remember) their excesses, and abuses of power and privilege … along with their successes…when it came time to place our ballets.

Now we have to monitor the monitors.

Time passages

“It was late in December, the sky turned to snow
All round the day was going down slow
Night like a river beginning to flow
I felt the beat of my mind go
Drifting into time passages
Years go falling in the fading light
Time passages
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight”

From: “Time Passages” 1978, by Al Stewart

It was a low-keyed Christmas this year. Enough snow on the ground to give a half-hearted effort towards the “White Christmas” standard on expects, and the temperature stayed in the margins of a winter wonderland, vice an arctic blast from the Canadian plains.

Food was plentiful, wonderful smells sending advance waves of anticipation, pleasing to the tongue, and taste-buds. Coffee, teas, nogs, and more, were at the ready, to quench the thirst of any takers. Deserts stood by, in the rear guard. Pies, cookies, and various candies, there to round out the holiday feast.

Few presents were exchanged, and this year saw no tree or lights adorning the house, inside or out. It wasn’t due to a lack of money, for the first part, or a disappearance of bags and boxes marked “Christmas Lights” and “X-Mass Tree”, on the other.

This year would see one special person in the family given the gift of peace. We would not be the ones who directly gave her this gift, and all in the family would feel the aftereffects of this gift being “accepted”.

Deb’s mom dealing with attacks to mind, body, and spirit over the past few years, particularly within the last five months or so, accepted her call to close out this final chapter here on earth. On the day after Christmas, she completed her transition from this level of existence, to the next. No longer in pain. No longer restricted, in a body which ceased to honor her will, wishes, or desires. She was set free…to be at rest…and at peace.

  ________________________________________________________________________________________________

I remember when Isabella’s first opened, down Grand Prairie Texas way, in a little hole in the wall at Marshal Plaza. In the space of two years, the big move down the road to where they exist to this day. All the fellow military from the old NAS Dallas who worked there over the years. LEO’s from various cities, both counties, and probably a few Texas Rangers as well, who graced the tables.

The delivery drivers used to compete against each other to see who could make the most tips (and some of the tips….well, there were very interesting stories told about them) on any given evening.

One time when Howard (the owner, fellow retired Navy type, and most importantly, friend) and I raced out of there, as soon as we could close up (Want to say it was a Monday or Tuesday night), to go and see the first Star Trek film. We hopped in my car, an old Mazda RX2 with the rotary engine, and broke land speed records to make it to the theater in time, getting there just a few minutes before it started.

Holidays were always special. The egg-nog and sangria would be flowing, food (and not just Italian) was consumed in mass quantities…and gifts exchanged. And yes, I still have the Navy fight jacket Howard gave me better than 25 years ago. (It saw time overseas btw, in Asia, the Med, and Atlantic)

The pizza was outstanding, the cheesecake “to die for”…but for me the best part of Isabella’s was the people. Howard and Iz were the spark that gave the place life, and character, the rest of us “supporting cast”, added our own little idiosyncrasies…for a bit of added flavor. But Isabella’s would never have been what it was, and what it came to be, without Howard and Izzie.

The mixer will silently sit, ovens cold and stoic their cavernous maws empty, chairs at rest atop their respective tables. All will be silent, and the community will be all the poorer for it.

The memories will live on long after the doors finally close. Those of us who worked (and sometimes, I think, lived) there….the customers who came back time and time again…the families and friends who became permanently intertwined….we are all the richer from the bounty of memories made there.

So the year comes to a close. We are left with memories, and that will have to do. Allowing for the occasional time passage, especially as one gets older, with less time at hand for the future, but an ever-increasing supply of memories…a luxury, an earned mental liquor, to be sipped on a cold winters eve.

Mom and Isabella’s … both provided comfort, joy, the living of life in large chunks. Both were loved and will be treasured.

Sometimes, simple and straight forward is the way to go

“And this is what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.”

When this first came out, back in the 60′s, Charles Shultz fought tooth and nail to keep Linus’s monologue in the cartoon. To his everlasting credit, it stayed, and is one of the most memorable parts of the show.

Merry Christmas to you all, from all of us at “the Harbor”. May you all be blessed this Christmas and throughout the New Year.

And one more for the road.

Short thoughts on the SCOTUS Obamacare decision

The following was penned by my oldest. Of my three sons, he is perhaps the most conservative of the bunch. With all the gnashing of teeth, and wringing of hands due to the Supreme Court deciding as they did on the ACA (and I admit I was gnashing and wringing with the best of them), Stephen is of the opinion, Chief Justice Roberts did exactly the correct thing, in getting it called a “tax”, and thus ruling on such.

I will not break down what is essentially his post, here. He has said much that I agree with, but the’re a few things I would take issue with. This will be done after I have read the opinions and (perhaps) the dissent. For now, read what a young, college educated, take is on this mess. I shall forward any comments to him (though I am sure he’ll willingly rebut in the comments as well).

Short thoughts on the SCOTUS Obamacare decision

Early today, SCOTUS ruled 5-4 that Obamacare was constitutional. Chief Justice Roberts was the swing vote, and in his affirmation wrote that it was in fact legal based on Congress’ duty to hand out taxes. As a conservative, I cannot necessarily argue with him. As someone who does not agree with almost everything the current President has done, I cannot find fault with their argument that the individual mandate was in fact a tax and not a penalty.

Roberts believes that the constitution should be read as a historical document. A list of laws meaning the same thing now as at the time it was written (and amended), not a twisting-turning living document, and it was this premise that led to him voting in favor of Obama and his law. He did exactly what President Bush nominated him to do; continue the practice of reading the letter of the law. On that, I applaud Roberts. The argument of a tax was how the Administration argued their case, and the tax is how they won the day.

It is now Congress’ power to tax Americans (those that actually pay taxes, that is) for anything that they see fit. No longer will Americans be able to choose their financial destiny. If you do not drive, why shouldn’t you have to pay a penalty for not having car insurance? If you do not own a home, why then wouldn’t you have to pay for home insurance? If you do not own a firearm, why then wouldn’t you purchase ammo? Whenever the Government needs more money to support a specific program, get ready to empty your pockets that much more for funding more for others that choose not to fund their own lives.

It used to be that American was a land of choices and personal responsibility. Those days, according to the Supreme Court have ended. That is simply one part of this decision.

The main part of today’s decision are the political ramifications that will come. Obama and Friends spent the entire debate of this health care law explaining how the individual mandate was in fact NOT a tax, but a penalty. It was to be the first time in American history that Americans will be penalized for not purchasing a product they do not choose to have. That was the first slap in the face to those citizens who have made a choice for themselves. Further, Obama himself ran his campaign on not raising taxes on the middle class. This gigantic taxation that will fund the HCA will now fall on the shoulders of who? That’s right, the middle class (and the others who actually pay taxes). Now, all Americans (who pay taxes) have been given a collective hypocritical slap in the face.

So who will have to pay for their health care? Who will be able to receive free government sanctioned health care? Will the poor have to pay individual mandate taxes? If the answer to the latter is “no”, then how is that fundamentally fair for those who pay in, but yet see no benefit? Does Joe Wilson’s “you lie” outburst become true when it is found that illegals will find their way to reap the benefits of this new law?

Even with the passage of the bill, which was done under a cloak of secrecy, even the debate of the law through the courts, the American people have been lied to and deceived. The devil is in the details and this law still provides more questions than answers. Obama and Friends will now have to tap dance around over the next 4 months prior to the election to explain why they have now slapped the majority of the country with an enormous tax burden.
It used to be that SIN taxes were a loop hole in which to tax unhealthy choices for the betterment of the general public, but only on a state level. One could argue whether or not these taxes are regressive, or even fair on a utilitarian approach, but these taxes are a state’s issue: now that power has been granted to the Congress. What will be next?

Goodnight Mr. Bradbury

He had not returned to Waukegan since his 13th year. But Waukegan never left him. It’s presence stayed in his heart and mind. found its way into any number of stories. I would like to think, that sometime yesterday, Ray Bradbury came home. That the spirit of the man now happily roams the streets, visits his old haunts, making them his own. Oh not in a dark and foreboding fashion, one of chained spirit to past memories formed while living, rather, that of one which infuses his essence into the places which he once cherished, making them richer for having his presence there.

Certainly, if I were a librarian, or night watchman, tasked with closing up Waukegan’s Public Library(s) for the night, I might give pause to the spry 13-year-old who is still reading quietly … or the elderly silver-haired gent doing the same. If you happen to mention it is closing time, and the only response received is “That’s okay, the books and I will keep each other company, until you return.” Smile, and perhaps say “Goodnight Mr. Bradbury.”

For the world is poorer in his passing. But richer for what he left behind.
Rest In Peace Ray Bradbury.

He would have been 83 today.

Most likely there would have been a family gathering, perhaps a roast, or if warm enough, steaks on the grill. The usual discussions would have taken place, about weather…family…jobs…sports. And of course, he would have a scotch in his hand, a smile on his face, and a cigar at the ready (to be lit up outside, after dinner).

Happy Birthday Dad, those of us still down here in the rat race still remember. And still miss you. You left a bigger void than you may have known or suspected. Your shoes still much too big to be filled.