tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53092020447685001392024-03-13T18:29:06.691-05:00Rodney's Short Stories, etc...My blog is actually a collection of Short Stories I have written that reflects a time or event(s) at some point in my life. Everything you read is true and generally "G" rated. In the rare occasions I do get outside of the lines in any given story, I will post a general warning before you actually engage the contents. The closest thing to an actual blog that I do post on frequently, would be "Rod's Reflections of 2015." I add thoughts to this title often throughout any given month.Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-92163139626141993572018-01-08T14:15:00.001-06:002018-02-08T15:22:30.423-06:00Rod's Reflections for the Entire Year of 2017I only thought the year 2016 was slow. Far be it any one particular reason or a collection of many, my heart has not been in sharing things occurring in my immediate moments as reflected in many past postings. They are there, mind you, but it seems a burden to write them and then post them on facebook. Here I sit at home nursing a cold just five days short of my 7th decades 8th year birthday realizing there may be a handful of things I could gleen and share on my blog. For those of you who read Alaskan Gold, you know I never finished it. Thing is, I have visited that "mother lode" three more times since then and not a word of history was recorded. Oh, me, the treasures we take with us to the grave if we fail to leave a written record for someone distant to take into their heart, your treasures. So here goes. Let me see how far back in facebook I can go and see what I can find to <br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February 2017</span></strong><br />
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Amazing the friends you gather throughout a lifetime. As I walked out to take my grand daughter to high school this morning, my mockingbird greeted me with his beautiful voice. Yes, my heart is down so he was right on time to lift me up. I am going to miss you Jerry! What an impact you made on my life the few short years I had the privilege of knowing you! There are too many. Just too many as the days continue to sift like sand through the hour glass of time. But it is our turn now.<br />
<strong> In Memory of Jerry Emile Breithaupt</strong><br />
<strong> April 2, 1943 --- February 7, 2017</strong><br />
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I am a public servant for the city of Pineville. Like the fire department and police department I wear a uniform. I interact with the public daily in my work, taking pride in speaking to, acknowledging everyone I come into close proximity with. Nothing like Merry Christmas, happy new, Veterans Day, whatever. But folks? Forgive me, but walking past a male figure and telling him happy Valentine's Day just seems very difficult for me to do! So, to all of my gender specific friends out there? You know! Have a happy one.<br />
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February 14, 2017<br />
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I was raised to be a southern gentleman. My father taught me how to shake hands before I was 10 years old. To open doors for women, ladies or "older people," to include the car door of my daddy's car when I had a date with someone's daughter. Simply stated, to conveniently be of assistance to anyone that I happened by that may by chance need help with almost anything. A simple practice of courtesy? Yes. That's it. Well, today for instance, the dawning of the last remaining<span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> chapters of my life defined the first few paragraphs. I was making the City of Pineville's bank deposit at on of the larger banks across the river in Alexandria. As I moved to exit the building, a well dressed younger woman stepped in front of me and opened the door for me. I laughed and told her, "it is my job to open the door for you!" She smiled and followed me out the door as we made our ways to our respective cars when it dawned on me?!? Still within speaking distance, I spoke to her one more time. "You know something, you just made me realize I am truly an aging senior citizen now! Thank you again for the door. After all it is official, I received my first social security check yesterday!" She just laughed and I went back to my office to check my blood pressure and blood sugar level.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">February 17, 2017</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>March 2017</strong></span><br />
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Paige, Your mother wanted me to text you and let you know she has a dead cell phone. It will not recharge or function. If you need her call your aunt Paula or Jansen. If they can't answer your questions then call Kennard. Our house phone is an option but I wouldn't bet on it as We never answer it. You could call my phone but I have caller ID so if I see it is you, I probably won't answer it. I am hoping you can make it a couple of days until her new phone arrives. You can find her at Super 1 over on the bypass tomorrow after half of your kids go to school. Do not just show up at our house as I have Ebola Cocca Pneaixier which is highly contagious and can kill kids, age 10 and under very quickly. Love, Dad!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>May 2017</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Not only is she beautiful but she is getting stronger every day. This is my baby sister, Nona.</span></div>
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">June 2017</span></strong><br />
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Looks like the tides have turned darkness! Now I'm the one giving out instruction and pointing directions!</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">I was visiting with the Ferguson Family during June of this year. Every summer month gives resident Alaskans time to prepare for the coming winter. Stewart rented a splitter and we spent a good part of the day splitting logs and stacking the cord wood. Where he did most of the lugging and heavy lifting, he enjoyed a few photos of him directing his old man in what I was to do with these logs!!</span><br />
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Posted in June of 2017<br />
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Beautiful morning to start your day in. Nice brisk walk with Sarah, my daughter in law amongst the hills and valleys of her neighborhood. Yes, I thought about a med-flight a couple of times but managed the last hill without any kind of cardiac infarction.<br />
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Posted June 8, 2017<br />
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I am leaving DFW for New Orleans sitting in a window seat next to a very pretty, just graduated high school senior from California. She of course is sitting next to me and the isle seat is empty. I told her I get sick real easy and always throw up in the isle when I'm sitting in that seat. She asked if I wanted to move there and I said no. I tell her that looking out the window sometimes keeps me from getting sick. She has not moved! I just can't help myself sometimes.<br />
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Posted June 14<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>August 2017</strong></span><br />
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Interesting short story. I visit my primary care physician on July 13th. You are losing weight he says! I walk 12 to 15 miles a week I tell him. Keep up the good work he says. Anything else? My legs have Edema. Fluid he says, take this lasicks and I'll set you up with a cardiologist! July 31 I see my old cardiologist for the first time since 2010. He said, ya got some time for some test? I said, I reckon so! The games began. EKG or EEG? Get em mixed up. Then they body slam me on a table and put this sonogram on my chest, complete with baby lotion. Neat I said, is that a alive in there? Yup, she said! Dang, I said, wiggles a lot in there, glad I can't feel it or it would aggravate me to death! Again she said yup. Then they stick this needle in my hand and flush it with saline and inject some nuclear medicine through it. Gonna hurt , I asked? Nope, he said, be still for 10 minutes with your hands above your head while this thing takes pictures of your heart. I stated to him, this means I'm radioactive? He said yup, just A little. After this we jump on a tread mill he said it will only take 6 minutes. I said, I walk 12 to 15 miles a week. He smiled and keep increasing the speed and grade until my heart rate reached 131 BEATS PER SECOND!! More nuclear meds in the hand port and back for another 10 minutes of heart pictures with my hands above my head. Do you know your tongue can actually reach your belly button? *sigh* after all of this, I am told they are going to fit me with a holster! I asked, how did yaw know I carried concealed ? I then told them I had a good holster but I appreciated the offer! Another nurse said, this holster is for a 24hour heart monitor. Ya gotta bring it back tomorrow after 11Am. Oh!! Couple of observations here. Diodes. Know what they hook them to? All 7,000 of them? Real sticky things they stick on your chest! After they wax off the hair I cultivated for 66 years with a dull razor. The 24 hour heart monitor thingy? Only 7 diodes but those sticky patches? No wax on wax off! Push 4 of them into the uncultivated hair. I thought, God?! He said, don't have to worry about pulling them off for 24 hours, so I went back to work. Know how fast 24 hours passes? In the rest room of city hall I tear these E6000 glued on patches from my chest complete with skin the hair once grew in! I placed the monitor, and what looked like my scalp into a baggie and presented it to them on time. Tuesday they call me! Congrats. You passed the treadmill. Two hours later they call from the same office and say congrats, we found nothing with the nuclear medicine stuff! I smile. Told them I walk 12 to 15 miles a week! And then Thursday comes. Rod, they said? Yes, I replied. The monitor you wore for 24 hours showed some inconsistencies and the Doctor wants to do a heart cath to see what's going on! We will check scheduling and call you back tomorrow and tell ya when. I said, you have the wrong number. She laughed and hung up. Friday came, so did Saturday and Sunday. Monday and Tuesday came and no calls. I know I was fine. Prolly was more a case of wrong patient than wrong number. So Wednesday, august 9 at 1245 pm in the middle of my PBJ crackers, my blue tooth announces an incoming phone call. I said, hello, and she said, hello darlin! So at 5 am or just 5 short snores from now, I will climb out of bed, put on clean pannies and rush over to the surgery center on Bolton avenue and see a friend who is have a knee replaced. Then I fast forward to Cabrini Hospital day surgery where I will have my heart cath performed as to ascertain what is obviously a mistake by a faulty 24 hour monitor that expressed incomprehensible data when I turned on the microwave to heat my peach oatmeal! Did I tell you I walk 12 to 15 miles a week? Hmmm. Hope these cardiologist don't have a weekly stint quota!!<br />
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Posted August 10, 2017<br />
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On August 10 I reported to Cabrini Hospital for my heart cath. I knew when I went in there would be nothing discovered by the procedure. I was that confident. Upon completion, however, they informed me I needed three possibly four, bypass graphs or open heart surgery. I was incensed. I was in the best shape I had been for years. I knew what angina pain was. I had angioplasty done to my left interior descending or the widow maker in 1993. Here I am with no pain when I walk 6 miles in 105 degree heat index? I re-hydrate and keep going. No way I needed this stuff. I wanted to go home. The surgeon comes in and tells me. If you want to go home, I will not stop you. In fact, I will not even be upset with you. If you are lucky, however, you will feel some angina, faintness or weakness and you will come back and let me take care of your problem. If you are less lucky, you are going to have a heart attack and damage will be done to the heart muscle I cannot repair. In worst case scenarios, your heart will stop and you will be dead when you hit the ground. It happens to many times. In your case, this can be avoided.<br />
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I guess you can imagine what was going through my mind. I could not believe I was at this intersection in my life. I still had too much to live for. Didn't I? Linda was crying, and I am flushed with anger and deeply concerned at the same time. I thought about my Dad in 1966 having a stainless steel valve placed in his heart that gave him another 30 years of life. My mother who had bypass surgery that gave her years of life and my oldest sister why had undergone two open heart surgeries in her 72 years of life. Did not my baby sister just a few weeks before this have two stints placed in her heart? For some reason, I took a back seat to my desire of going home and relented. From here on, is a recoup of messages collected mainly by Linda of the next few days.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Getting ready for surgery by noon today. Rod is a bit apprehensive, so please pray for peace in his heart.</strong></span><br />
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Posted 11 August before surgery by Linda<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Four bypasses done and his chest is being closed now! Thank you Jesus for a successful surgery!</strong></span><br />
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Posted 11 August after my surgery by Linda.<br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Day 2 post op finally dawns and Linda post on facebook, <span style="font-size: large;"><strong>"Hallelujah, The tubes came out and he is feeling better all ready."</strong></span> What she didn't tell you was this cute Red Head Nurse Practioner came in with a rather healthy looking guy and she said, "Mr. Ferguson, we are taking the tubes out this morning. It may be a little uncomfortable but you will be glad to get rid of them." Tubes. Drain tubes. One under my lungs and the other under my heart placed there in surgery to make sure excess blood would properly drain from my chest cavity! Here we go. She grabs one and starts this slow pull. Words I cannot print in my blog came to my mind! I thought for sure my heart was on the end of the last one she pulled from the deep recesses of my soul! Oh yes. Hallelujah! I do not want to go through that again without being under anesthesia!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">All of this was done a scant hour or two after the first walk since surgery. Oh my. Have I mentioned they want me to have a bowel movement? Dear Lord. Help them to understand that if I have a catheter, a bowel movement is the last thing on my mind?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Posted August 13 </span><br />
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Man with a purpose! All the tubes and catheter are out, shaved, and spit bath done! Feeling refreshed finally... Bowel movement! Then you can go home! Every meal they are forcing<br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">I actually felt pretty good when this picture was taken. I lived in four hour intervals which was when they fed me food and gave me oxycodone that helped me exist comfortably during these four hours segments. Of course this was augmented with dilaudin which was administered intravenously. During my feed and drug sessions they introduced milk-of-magnesia into my diet. You need to have a bowel movement they said. You can go home when you have a bowel movement, they said. I ate, took and dealt with what ever they gave me but noticed when meal time drew near, I asked for my oxycodone because it was making me nauseated... Imagine that.<br />
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This picture was taken by Linda on August 14. <br />
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My first chance to respond to my friends that had kept up with me the last few days. <span style="font-size: large;"><strong>I would like to share with all of you my sincere appreciation for your concerns and your continued prayers. What an interesting trip thus far. And thank you God, for allowing me to continue! Oh, did I tell you that I walk 12 to 15 miles a week?</strong> </span><span style="font-size: small;">In the wee morning hours of day 3 post op, they introduced some kind of nuclear laxative. It was in a small glass container and the RN told me to do what I could with it because, as he said, it taste awful. I drank half the contents with him watching at breakfast. He told me when I have a bowel movement they would let me go home. Oh cheers! Lunch came and I was feeling ill from the oxycodone when I finished the rest of the nuclear laxative. The clock was ticking and something deep inside sent my mind a message saying, soon! </span></span><br />
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He was true to his word. Within 2 hours of this surprise, the picture here was taken. A short 50 some odd hours of having my chest opened and four grafts placed on my aging heart to give me move time on this earth, I am being sent home...<br />
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Waiting for the wheelchair so we can head home!!<br />
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So here I am, getting ready to go home! <br />
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Posted September 15, 2017<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>He's had a tough day today. Lots of pain and mood swings! He's hanging in there cause we know better days are coming!! We both appreciate all your prayers and comments to us. Thank you all for your friendship!!!</strong></span><span style="font-size: small;"> Linda has been very good at keeping our friends updated on facebook. I was in pain and mood swings was Linda's was of saying I was not a good patient. The Oxycodene was making me sick. I could not rest well and nothing she put in front of me seemed to work including the outdated soup. I actually felt better when I was in the hospital and just could not understand what was going on and when would I ever start feeling better? The idea of taking the Oxycodene for pain made me shiver and actually went as long as I could before I would take one. I was again at an intersection I did not want to entertain. Hurt or not hurt, eat or not eat. Regardless, I could not sleep and every minute turned into an hour. As the 10pm hour of the 16th approached, the worse fear I had gripped me as my mouth began to salivate. I grabbed my red heart pillow and headed for the closest restroom. I carefully placed this pillow between my stitched chest and the rim of a toilet seat and started to throw up. I don't ever remember any pain that was worse. I simply could not control myself. I do not remember when the 16th of August turned to the 17th, but I do know it finally came.</span><br />
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Posted August 16, 2017</div>
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<input autocomplete="off" name="fb_dtsg" type="hidden" value="AQGg2COC7KvT:AQGktF3IggkQ" /><input autocomplete="off" name="ft_ent_identifier" type="hidden" value="1470094253072072" /><input autocomplete="off" name="data_only_response" type="hidden" value="1" />When Day 6 of post op came, it made a promise to me it would take its time to pass. When I realized that I was not going to die, I told Linda I had to go to the emergency room for help. <span style="font-size: large;"><strong>2 am Thursday August 17. Do you know we can make the 20 minute drive from our house in 12 minutes? To Cabrini ER? Rodney has been nauseated most of the day. Started throwing up about 10 pm. and finally agreed he needed to go to the ER at 2am. Ekg and nausea shot has been done. Having a-fib again. 3am and waiting to see what's next! </strong></span><span style="font-size: small;">I can't remember exactly what happened when we got to the emergency room other than me pleading for help to stop the dry heaving and pressure on my chest. I seriously wondered if the power of these convulsions would break the grafts placed on my heart that was in and out of A-Fib. Somewhere along a post 3am nightmare, something was given me for nausea and an Dilauden was again introduced to my system along with saline to help eliminate the pain that had consumed my body. I thank God I finally drifted off to sleep. My new pain medicine? Hydrocodone. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><strong><span style="font-size: large;">We're back home with a change in his pain meds and additional nausea meds. After running several test they came to this conclusion! Only after I told them more than once that it's the pain medicine. Don't have a medical degree but I know pretty much the symptoms. Doctors just don't listen!! </span></strong></span><br />
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After this experience I truthfully tell you that the hour I left that emergency around 10am on Thursday, the 17th of August, my healing actually started. I want to tell you that the healing progress from that moment could be measured in hour increments , but for sure every day and for that I am thankful.<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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Posted August 17, 2017 </span><br />
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<a aria-expanded="false" aria-haspopup="true" aria-label="Shared with This is Linda's post. It's been shared with: Public" class="_42ft _4jy0 _55pi _5vto _55_p _2agf _4o_4 _401v _p _1zg8 _3m8n _4jy3 _517h _51sy _59pe" data-hover="tooltip" data-tooltip-content="This is Linda's post. It's been shared with: Public" href="https://www.facebook.com/rod.ferguson.9#" id="u_jsonp_22_11" rel="toggle" role="button" style="max-width: 26px;"><span class="_-xe _3-8_"><i class="_21or img sp_fMuce2RR-zQ sx_3f356c"></i></span><span class="accessible_elem"><span class="_55pe"></span></span><span class="_4o_3"><i class="img sp_3OxEQobvphM sx_73cfea"></i></span></a><br /></div>
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<span class="_5z6o"><span class="_5z6n" style="padding-top: 71.42%;"></span><span aria-hidden="true" aria-label=" " class="_4a6n _a5_" role="presentation" style="color: rgba(255,255,255,1); font-size: 30px; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.2em; padding: 50px 30px; text-align: center;">Thank you for all your prayers for Rodney! The med change has really made a difference. Has been resting and feeling much better.</span></span><input autocomplete="off" name="fb_dtsg" type="hidden" value="AQGg2COC7KvT:AQGktF3IggkQ" /><input autocomplete="off" name="ft_ent_identifier" type="hidden" value="1471395989608565" /><input autocomplete="off" name="data_only_response" type="hidden" value="1" /></div>
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<span class="_1mto">Posted August 18 by my wife, Linda.</span></div>
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Awakened this morning day 17 post-op. At my request, Linda prepared a light breakfast of oatmeal and roast beef. Yes, I am a finicky eater! I raised the window in my bedroom and have laid back into the comforts of my pillows, listening to the steady pelting of rain from Tropical Storm Harvey. How could I dare complain about my misfortunes as I get stronger every day, while there are so many that have lost everything as a result of this storm that is now comforting me?? Where the peace of falling rain comforts me, I am rem<span class="text_exposed_show">inded that in my present state of contentment, I find a sense of guilt knowing that my "now" should not even be mentioned in the same cogitated thought process that so many are suffering in physically, emotionally and spiritually!! I just cannot logically embrace their state of mind as yet another day plays out her conscious moments in each of us as she moves to put every experience we find our self engaged, in our soon to be distant past.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted August 28, 2017</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>September 2017</strong></span><br />
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Ate a few spare ribs with my friends Steve and Sheryl Bell up in Downsville in Union Parish. Linda killed a million love bugs going up and tried to kill me when we got back to Pineville! Idiots do run stop lights! Just glad Linda's reflexes were fast enough to keep us from being hit!<br />
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Friendships that last a lifetime are well worth cultivating. The most productive gardens are worth the time you have remaining. And yes, those are pork ribs. Labor day spent with a long time friend and his family in Downsville, LA is priceless. <br />
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Posted September 4, 2017<br />
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At four weeks post op, I had already built my strength up to walking close to 4 miles again. I felt wonderful. I boarded a plane in New Orleans, LA and spent the next 2 weeks in Fairbanks, AK with my son and his beautiful family.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">October 2017</span><br />
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As I made the deposit for the city of Pineville I could not help but notice this moth. A green moth. A tiny green moth. Only other green moth I have ever seen was a Luna moth 50 times larger than this one. I don’t know why but I was amazed by the color, size and the unexpected presence of this tiny creature. Yes, that is my thumb.</div>
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For some reason this moth intrigued me. Caused me pause to look closer and ask why God stopped me from my routine to sorta, gawk? And I still ask myself, just why, I felt it important enough to share with people on my wall? I only had 1 share and 7 likes. <br />
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Posted October 4, 2017<br />
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I gave her the pressure washer and told her I wanted KBear to go away!! This is my oldest granddaughter, Mckinzi. I had printed Kbear into my dirty driveway with my pressure washer and asked her to make it go away. If you want to know what this child has been in my life, find the time to read that short story I posted in January of 2014. It is called <strong><em>Dawning Truth</em></strong>.<br />
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I called this child Kinzi Bear for years after she was born and call her Kbear today. Until I pass from this earth, she will always be my Kbear. What a blessing. She lives with us most of the time and is in her senior year. <br />
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Posted October 15, 2017<br />
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Garret finally got to the meat and he is happy! Gabby it holding over the best she can muster! I need two cats and a couple of pit bulls to clean the floor after they eat! Still can’t watch them sometimes but my new heart tune up makes it a lot more tolerable! <span class="_47e3 _5mfr" title="smile emoticon"><img alt="" class="img" height="16" role="presentation" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/f4c/1/16/1f642.png" width="16" /><span aria-hidden="true" class="_7oe">:-)</span></span><br />
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Upon reflection three months later, I must admit I should be grateful they can litter my floor with what God has blessed me with.<br />
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Posted October 17, 2017<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>December 2017</strong></span><br />
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Earth’s closest satellite presents herself a scant 24 hours after her super moon debut on December 4... Rising at 65° on the horizon, her radiance painted the clouds in a milky white while accenting the dark branches of my bare Natchez White Crepe Myrtles. The soft prayers of insects surrounding the near distant reaches of my home is the background music of further distant urban noises of traffic, barking dogs and the soft vacuum sounds of crowded airliners passing over me <span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">at altitudes 5 to 7 miles. I think of someone looking down from that altitude with their face placed against a window as they see the mass of central Louisiana lights and wonder what city they pass over. Pretty much the same way I stared at the lights of a solitary house sitting in some remote Montana spread, wondering if some unknown person was turning their head upward as to locate the flashing strobes of my passing airliner as we disturbed his peaceful existence. I breath deeply now as I prepare to go inside while listening as the soft breeze makes the pine needles sing as it passes through. Did I mention it is beautiful out here tonight?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_hide"><span class="text_exposed_link"><a class="see_more_link" data-ft="{"tn":"e"}" href="https://www.facebook.com/rod.ferguson.9/posts/10214274805722419?pnref=story"><span class="see_more_link_inner">See More</span></a></span></span></div>
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Posted December 4 from my home.<br />
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Linda Sent me an email a couple of weeks ago of an email I sent to my sisters and other select friends, December 24, 2008. I was actually a Sunday School Teacher at Donahue Family Church at the time and I was totally unaware of this until Linda forwarded to me. Though I would include it 9 years later in my December 2017 blog entry. <br />
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TO: My Sisters and their Family, Sunday School Class Members and their family, selected friends and their family</div>
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FROM: Well, you figure that out.</div>
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Ah yes... I do exist on the eve of my 57th Christmas realizing that memories of the first Christmas and possible second one along with the third or fourth is probably erased forever... However I do recall bits and pieces of those early Christmas days in a two bedroom house at 308 Georgia Street in Monroe, LA. Santa came every year and the smell of tangerines/oranges to this very day takes me back to that snapshot in time. Always cowboy guns or something big and lots of boxes of those easy to peal tangerines, oranges and other fruit there under that tree. Actually got my first bike there as well as experiencing my first White Christmas! That stuff is so fun and awful! I remember dressing for half a day just to spend 10 minutes in that stuff? Goodness... Snow in the south. Sounds good but can really do without it.</div>
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Then our family moved to 413 Beasley Street and that big house into I guess a real blue collar neighborhood. Now those were great times! I even looked forward to getting clothes as a Christmas present. It was there that nieces and nephews entered the picture and oh my goodness those wonderful Christmas Dinners at Momma's house. Alwa;ys Mommas house now... Daddy just lived there. This is where we grew up by the way.. Well three of us did, one was grown before we left Georgia street if I remember correctly, but any way, it got to the point that big ole place was just too small for all of us. Amazing how those sweet nieces and nephews grow into big people! *gack* Always wondered why they didn't go somewhere else. But oh those Christmas days. We sit around in the living room while someone plays Santa and gives out all the gifts! How did Dad always afford gifts for everyone? Even when our family continued to grow!! And grow we did. Right out into our own homes with our own families. </div>
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Mom and Dad passed away and 413 Beasley Street became the property of someone else. 308 Georgia Street, Somerset, Faith Drive, Azalea Court East and whatever that street Nona and Paul lives on became the gathering places of those that use to gather at Mommas house. The sound of little naked feet slapping on wood and tile and the excited voices of our children faded over the years in these new gathering places they too called mammas house even though daddy just lived there! New voices and the shuffle of padded feet in fancy pajamas and carpet introduced themselves to us every year! Goodness, are we blessed or what as those that called us momma and daddy were now being called mom and dad? Hey, i've adjusted well to my new name. To those that choose to use it anyway.</div>
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And as we grew the cornerstones of 308 Georgia Street became the foundations in different places but always with the same memories. New life, new memories, generations becoming newer generations build on these new foundations called mommas house until those cornerstones began their own foundation? Are we really in the Winter of our life? And as we gathered and gather still we have been so blessed to have shared with those we so loved. Those that have gone on before us. Those that we love that are far away or doing things differently than we did when we were them. Our spouses becoming our best friends? Mine sure has...</div>
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The laughter. The memories. Family. We do all of this every year without the fan fare of Angelic choirs on that first Christmas morning in Bethlehem complete with the stench of manure and urine that existed that 2000 years ago in that barn half a world away. Since then He has been at every Christmas gathering we have celebrated and stood alone against the wall smiling at us as the smell of dressing filled the house. Always has he been there for us in our times of sadness and sorrow. Oh my, how I wish I had taught that to my kids more and more as they grow older. I no longer influence their life or decisions. But I'm still in momma's house. I just live there now. . </div>
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I love you all. </div>
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Happy Birthday, Jesus</div>
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Rod Ferguson</div>
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<br />Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-35607384257683381302016-07-03T22:55:00.000-05:002016-12-09T11:28:28.885-06:00Alaskan Gold<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;">How would any person, when asked, define Alaskan Gold? The answers of course are much too numerous to even list, so why even entertain an empirical number when the answers approach infinity? Let me share with you in a few short paragraphs what has transpired in the life of my son since 9/11/01. As most of you know, he enlisted into the Air Force Special Operations right out of High School in 2000. Naturally he was very good at what he did and he found himself prepared when his training was called upon. He married and this typical military family continued to grow despite the demands made upon this particular warrior dad. As of this writing, my son has continued to prefect the art of his trade and continually answered our country's call against this <b><i>Global</i></b> <strong><em>War on Terrorism. </em></strong>What I am sharing with you is how the prayers of a faithful, Godly wife along with countless friends and family are heard by an omnipotant God. Any random reader of my collection of short stories, stumbling across this particular blog entry will probably not fully grasp this 15 year span of time. I still hope you will enjoy reading the treasures I discovered in city of the midnight sun from June 8 through June 15 of this year.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> I flew to Fairbanks, Alaska to spend a week with my son, Stewart, his wife </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">Sarah and their three beautiful daughter's, Elizabeth, Katherine and Audrey. I had not seen Elizabeth since she was 1 year of age and she is a September birthday shy of 12 years of age. Katherine just turned 8 years of age when I first met her </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">this past December with her Dad and ate donuts in Pineville. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">What </span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEism8p9v30HvTxY5OkjZbIbvGclhw22u94Nvr4NkpT0Y26Zdw74n61YicelfKgnprn-i-cwQVFRHevD1jYPqGaRypV4dnO3_15xHpmEVQ90mrc2_iLKcJWcullEaMivCu9oq3lf3kffs99_/s1600/023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEism8p9v30HvTxY5OkjZbIbvGclhw22u94Nvr4NkpT0Y26Zdw74n61YicelfKgnprn-i-cwQVFRHevD1jYPqGaRypV4dnO3_15xHpmEVQ90mrc2_iLKcJWcullEaMivCu9oq3lf3kffs99_/s200/023.JPG" width="150" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">a beautiful child, as I sat a scant 20 or 30 </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">minutes </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">exchanging pleasantries with her dad while </span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">taking in her every move as she devoured an Ă©clair. Oh how my son's words began to ring true as he once reminded me what I have missed. Sometime after his family moved to Alaska, he extended an invitation for me to visit them at their home. Of course I played it off but after this brief meeting </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">with this sweet child, I asked if the invitation was still on the table. I arrived in Fairbanks in the early morning hours of 9 June where Stewart picked me up. When we arrived at his early morning home in the daylight filled hour of 0230, I was shown to my room downstairs. It was actually Elizabeth's room which was right across the hall from Katherine's room of which they were to share during my visit. Do you really think they were asleep knowing Poppy Rodney was coming?? They sorta "vaporized" in the room and after a quick hug, Daddy threatened their life if they did not get back into their bedroom and go to sleep!!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> I was awake by 0700, making my way upstairs where </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">I joined Sarah already stirring in the early morning kitchen of their spacious </span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwwVI1LU6klFc9H34gGwAlmf9IqjupESU2MxudH6Bq9aRpBNmO4GF-VVe-sYlvmGTTqGfH64otwOjXx2Zj1tsrY2fcdf3PVgB36D3jseVdJLXLeyHld6dx8cmTu9Ji4EhWVU4L7dFaMM5/s1600/117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXwwVI1LU6klFc9H34gGwAlmf9IqjupESU2MxudH6Bq9aRpBNmO4GF-VVe-sYlvmGTTqGfH64otwOjXx2Zj1tsrY2fcdf3PVgB36D3jseVdJLXLeyHld6dx8cmTu9Ji4EhWVU4L7dFaMM5/s200/117.JPG" width="150" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">home. She had already been informed by Katherine that she needed to get a lot of coffee because Poppy Rodney drinks a lot of coffee, remembering that was what I drank at the donut shop in Pineville back last December when we met. While sitting at the table engaging her in conversation as she prepared breakfast, this lovely little creature appeared around the corner of the high rise counter and froze momentarily, just starring at me. She had a lamb looking hand puppet or something with the ear stuck in her mouth as she continued to stand there "taking me in," still clad in her tee shirt and panties. I broke the ice and said, "So you must be Audrey?" She </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">then removed the lambs ear from her mouth and announced,</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwLjCpMQJQSPRltn35E1moA5RIl_fdWJz025Pst0rSc633eqbjBzVF1HVzXeBCGZWBOMcqVCvkKFJG8DtMRAol_VGFVX6z54dkUpoo346lsY7kwP6WZAtTYlDCFUyWUwhMomUtzHKxHpAU/s1600/087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwLjCpMQJQSPRltn35E1moA5RIl_fdWJz025Pst0rSc633eqbjBzVF1HVzXeBCGZWBOMcqVCvkKFJG8DtMRAol_VGFVX6z54dkUpoo346lsY7kwP6WZAtTYlDCFUyWUwhMomUtzHKxHpAU/s200/087.JPG" width="150" /></a></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">"she was this many" and held up four fingers. Sarah told her to tell Poppy Rodney how old she was and she announced in perfect grammer, "I am 4 years old." I fell in love. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> Sarah sat what she called a happy face breakfast in front of me consisting of a sliced bagel coated in strawberry cream cheese and two over easy eggs stating, "Stewart gets mad when I give him a happy face plate!" I got tickled and laughed at her statement as I began to realize I was in a mine shaft filled with the purest gold that only a few men discover once in a lifetime. Over the next few minutes, Elizabeth and Katherine joined us and engaged me in conversation while Sarah continued to busy herself in the kitchen. My gosh, how</span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIchMFaNlNbfUpCX-_nyxg_Cg5bOfbyTGsEBhBzy26ZzT0NSJrzFc8UuoQ6DMbQLIbXhBH9n1acsPB2xuGhKcgsj7IDqnp1jKNGYLYUQ-m03nsdtXvxKR9TWk0rADZ5Hy6HjEiTT1X0f1/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIchMFaNlNbfUpCX-_nyxg_Cg5bOfbyTGsEBhBzy26ZzT0NSJrzFc8UuoQ6DMbQLIbXhBH9n1acsPB2xuGhKcgsj7IDqnp1jKNGYLYUQ-m03nsdtXvxKR9TWk0rADZ5Hy6HjEiTT1X0f1/s200/009.JPG" width="150" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">beautiful Elizabeth was. So tall and skinny with the sweetest smile and eyes that searched your heart when she engaged you with conversation. I guess Katherine claimed me as her Poppy since she knew me best. Stewart eventually joined us around the table. It was along about this time that I realized where I was and what I had missed for so many years. This son I most admired, his caring wife and those girls. He asked me to pray! As I wrapped my hands around smaller ones, I remember saying "Thank you, God for your Grace and Blessings. Bless this food to nourish our bodies so we may serve you." "God," and I paused and almost choked up until I spoke the only words that were on my heart, "Thank You, Father for family, Amen!" I felt the door open in the heart of the other man at that table.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> A week or so before I left for Alaska, Sarah surprised me with a phone call and I heard this little voice tell me, "I hope you like to hike, cause we going hiking!" I was enthralled of course but also tickled to death as I engaged this yet to be defined, estrogen ocean of Ferguson grand girls as each one chatted with me. They had some serious plans for Poppy Rodney and thinking back, I think Sarah wanted to give me a heads up for what was to come. Stewart had already warned me they would "be wild" when I first arrived but would eventually settle down. Yet unknown to all of them, I am thinking of how soon and how quickly I </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNkoerzZNNDtqXe2Te-_pO94x3PPG_Nb6oyXbzDKBsSjDKITlIR-M4w3Bdb_5_SyHA4SKyCoZmFF2AhHgPeotGLtdZFnB1-wVEJrcNguyDONd3rDXK9kFjGhQUf8XAiwZn31Gt5b5ec2Hf/s1600/114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNkoerzZNNDtqXe2Te-_pO94x3PPG_Nb6oyXbzDKBsSjDKITlIR-M4w3Bdb_5_SyHA4SKyCoZmFF2AhHgPeotGLtdZFnB1-wVEJrcNguyDONd3rDXK9kFjGhQUf8XAiwZn31Gt5b5ec2Hf/s200/114.JPG" width="150" /></a></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">could engage in some serious "rib biting" and "sugar snatching" without crossing any boundaries until they were comfortable with Stewart's grandpa. Oh yes, Stewart told me that one Sunday morning a couple of weeks before I was to arrive, Audrey came and crawled up into bed with him and Sarah where she generally submitted herself to daddy's kisses, back tickling and tummy routine. He told me this particular morning she was having nothing of the sorts. Stewart asked her, "Audrey, what is wrong, baby?" He said she just sighed and said, "I thought your grandpa would be here by now!"</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> The first day began with a trip to the North Pole. North Pole, Alaska of course </span></span></span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJiN5szcN8c9fnyzHhKNqzHZ4PA0xGbZLFFCAHLKLNypa4XaRBWIg8zBOM4G7ttv7z_HLKEQiE1xZ1InJJIf2UPVvJ4Gxc6bqNi4t_80bX3A_45HSqGnHKN_kfF-TAeg8lMuFaYnp_Gu2P/s1600/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJiN5szcN8c9fnyzHhKNqzHZ4PA0xGbZLFFCAHLKLNypa4XaRBWIg8zBOM4G7ttv7z_HLKEQiE1xZ1InJJIf2UPVvJ4Gxc6bqNi4t_80bX3A_45HSqGnHKN_kfF-TAeg8lMuFaYnp_Gu2P/s200/015.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">and a visit to the Santa Claus House. It had been 43 years since I had been there, and I posted a picture on facebook with me sitting on Santa's lap and said, "he actually remembered me." Can you imagine my surprise, when someone actually asked me if he did in fact remember me? I am sure he will remember me on my next visit in 43 years, because if you look close, I am sitting on his lap, and pushed firmly against his sizable stomach was the full imprint of my safely holstered Springfield 1911 TRP .45 cal pistol. Santa said not a word or acted offended in the least bit by this discovery that I am certain he was aware of. Being the gentleman Santa has always been, I will not be a bit surprised if I discover a box of Personal Defense .45 cal ammo under my Christmas tree, personally signed: From Santa, this coming Christmas.</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkuEkbIidwDGL1p8mmzcOk31N0EhJFR_Y-FS2iYc4Im5CDrpMtNNddBeSztxzkGBhpeVhFkC-YK2XCYsBXjoZ98UieAk9jdgnTR1jIHDdnNtjIPxce9TV36Bk1uRo6F6siLEWmgtgSJ1BN/s1600/091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkuEkbIidwDGL1p8mmzcOk31N0EhJFR_Y-FS2iYc4Im5CDrpMtNNddBeSztxzkGBhpeVhFkC-YK2XCYsBXjoZ98UieAk9jdgnTR1jIHDdnNtjIPxce9TV36Bk1uRo6F6siLEWmgtgSJ1BN/s200/091.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> As the trip to Santa's house and other convenient points of interest came to an end that first day, we settled back into the Ferguson home on Hillary Drive overlooking Fairbanks, I was given an explanation of the Lamb looking hand puppet I saw Audrey with that morning. Stewart told me she never took a pacifier but for some unknown reason, she took to this cotton hand puppet. They said it was a poodle! He said she simply cannot go to sleep or sleep without it. She comforts herself by entertaining one of the ears of this coveted poodle by placing it in her mouth! I just looked at him funny when he told me they had a hundred or so of those things, explaining when one ear gets soaking wet, she replaces the wet ear with the dry ear and never misses a beat. I couldn't help myself as I </span></span></span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">died laughing and asked Sarah about it for<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgApfoxWPhaHOIMELYkNkMmpbj5Zmx1Jdg-MjhXDRAeuhlzShqEYzMQVkzipEcTTPyxhK3zAvPNINSgqQTR9gMu7WJkWCCfxDSLluwrlI9jWoY2zWdTLLY5K5gMIRaj1Q7-S2IDElnLVEXy/s1600/090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgApfoxWPhaHOIMELYkNkMmpbj5Zmx1Jdg-MjhXDRAeuhlzShqEYzMQVkzipEcTTPyxhK3zAvPNINSgqQTR9gMu7WJkWCCfxDSLluwrlI9jWoY2zWdTLLY5K5gMIRaj1Q7-S2IDElnLVEXy/s200/090.JPG" width="150" /></a></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">clarification. I was told they only had twenty or so which made much more sense. She also ensured me they were<em> washed often</em>. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Audrey was told to get ready for bed, so as she was making her last rounds I had the chance to take a picture of her favored poodle. If you look closely, one of the ears is already wet! I laugh so hard everytime I see this picture. Yet despite the joy of seeing this, I was also able to experience the tenderness of a loving mom as sleep overtook this precious child. How beautiful that only the arms of a mother can comfort a child as the ending of day demands rest from even the most tender among us. So that you might know, t</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">his particular picture was taken around the 1030 pm hour and the sun is still not below the horizon.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> We were just a week or so from the Summer Solstice in Fairbanks, Alaska where the sun never sets at this time of the year.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> Most followers of my blog and short stories, especially life long friends know I served with the U.S. Army in Anchorage, Alaska in '72 and '73. I remember on clear crisp days, "The High One" or in other native translations, "The Great One," know as Mt. Denali or to those of us in the Lower 48, Mt. McKinley, could be seen from Anchorage several hundred miles to the north. I dreamed of this beautiful mountain many times after leaving Alaska as my life resumed in my native Louisiana. One can not imagine how pleased I was when I was told we were going to visit Denali National Park! What a remarkable day. I was so hoping to see "my</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilUpY5gjv0FwMkHjbCHXnOVIEGACEkOttJkPtPSk4ye6UBOJXadg0CKrezNEyjzjzS_lQtnmsPzKPFUUmW01Ex_FAsWzHcTvw7topfVz_7PoLOkyBDKEy2UMkC4CifVINpoVm2hTSGB1AB/s1600/048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilUpY5gjv0FwMkHjbCHXnOVIEGACEkOttJkPtPSk4ye6UBOJXadg0CKrezNEyjzjzS_lQtnmsPzKPFUUmW01Ex_FAsWzHcTvw7topfVz_7PoLOkyBDKEy2UMkC4CifVINpoVm2hTSGB1AB/s200/048.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Audry's Attack Eagle</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> mountain" up close and personal for the first time. After entering the park, we settled in for a picnic lunch (put together by Sarah) before our 5 mile hike. As we sat down at a picnic table and passed out the snacks, a Sea Gull, yes, it is actually called a Mew Gull almost landed on Stewart's head seriously inquiring, "what's for lunch, dude?" I laughed as he brushed the pestering bird away and continued snacking while failing to anticipate the bird's next move. How I wish I had my video ready on my IPhone 6. My sweet Audry was this bird's next victim! Mom and Dad were there to protect her from harms way, although this aggressive approach along with the beating of wings literally scared her to death with its bold move on her sammich! My stomach still cramps as I laugh myself almost sick as she shared with all of us her version of "being attacked by an Eagle." We eventually made our way around a well constructed, easily navigable five mile hiking trail taking in the beauty of a minute part of this expansive National Park. I was more than disappointed to know that I was not </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Sarah was the Photographer</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">going to be able to see Mt. Denali from where we were and to even be able to, it would be another 200 mile trip! </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> We encounter a rather large Bull Elk in the upside of the shallow river that we were walking beside and at elevation, with binoculars, Stewart and I could count as many as 14 Dall Sheep with young. They were far beyond the range of any predator. We eventually completed the hike with plenty of daylight left (get it?) and returned to a more civilized part of the national park. You know, where you pay fifty bucks for a one dollar souvenir? It was here we ordered a pizza made with Elk tails, Caribou doo, Grizzly gristle and other unidentified morsels that if you did not look at closely, was very tasteful! Stewart and I drank a glass of home brewed urine, I mean beer while the girls entertained themselves coloring on a piece of paper while our order was being made! We visited many shops in this particular village that included a cannabis shop. We discovered Wolf furs upwards of $5,000 and all sorts of homemade knives, carvings, wooden dishes and other some what "Alaskan" items that were available for purchase just to prove you had been there. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> Our return from Denali Nation Park to Fairbanks was around 200 miles, and</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVpyFx_NiXuM4nesUwO9Fny-OaOUl31LegkqwJ2EUgkb9NB8EnXlR8xeG1EDqA1If5kpU6Shi6D8WhrzjhkC_DbfDGTOAB-njWLkKhBep9vvPaCwPv6IA7i6OSdQlpaXeE2zJZpyWHeu4N/s1600/076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVpyFx_NiXuM4nesUwO9Fny-OaOUl31LegkqwJ2EUgkb9NB8EnXlR8xeG1EDqA1If5kpU6Shi6D8WhrzjhkC_DbfDGTOAB-njWLkKhBep9vvPaCwPv6IA7i6OSdQlpaXeE2zJZpyWHeu4N/s200/076.JPG" width="150" /></a></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">was even more breath taking than the ride up. Only those who have ever visited this National Park can understand the beauty that exists. I was able to capture a snow covered peak in the Alaskan Range with my IPhone Camera. It was not Mt. Denali, but still beautiful. Despite the comfort of the front passenger seat, the disturbing unrest of Ferguson Children cooped up far too long in the back of a car began to make me smile as the "testing" of parental constraints were certainly probed to see just how far they could go with Poppy Rodney being present. Consistency, may I add was firmly displayed, as mom didn't budge an inch in properly addressing any thought of taking advantage of this particular visiting relative! I had to bite my tongue to keep from adding to the occasional problems I would hear from the back of Sarah's SUV. I sure didn't wanna be put out on the side of this expansive highway as I certainly had no where to go if that happened!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> Did I mention the fact that these precious little girls were amazed with my bald head? Audry took to me like a duck takes to water. Not only did she like to get sugar, she actually invited me to bite her ribs. She also likes to lick where she kisses you. Sarah warned me, this child did not have a filter and kindly requested I not be offended by anything that might come out of her mouth. That request tickled me. It was positive, concrete proof Ferguson DNA was in this child's blood! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">Being the first to rub my head, she announced to her</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">older siblings, "ooooh, it feels slicky," so the intrigue was on. I even offered them the opportunity of drawing on my head with markers if they wanted to. This really got the attention of Elizabeth and Katherine, so their hands found the way to the top of my head to explore this newly offered canvas never before exploited. Well, somewhere between their discovery of my bald head and my invitation for them to draw on it, Sarah must have cornered each of them and warned of the hazards they might encounter if they even asked me if they could actually draw on my bald head with markers. I'm sure I will never know but a good wash cloth and a good bar of soap would delete most of the damage. What I could not get off, I could easily cover with my hat. Besides, I really didn't care what anyone might think as no one knew me in Fairbanks. Besides, if anyone wanted to take issue with my grandchildren's art, I was prepared to defend their honor. For whatever reason, a magic marker never made it to the top of my head, but the minds of these persistent children never rests while discovering other ways to take advantage of and abuse my submissive self for their pleasures. If you have grand kids and are reading this, you know what attention i'm talking about. That same attention a new puppy gets is very close to the way they behave with old people. Careful not to hurt us for fear of what mom or dad might do to them? I am not sure who toted the first wild daisy up on the deck to stick behind my ear, but it wasn't long before several adorned my seated surroundings. One ear then both ears, I refused to allow Audry to place a flower in my nose, so she settled for me holding a few in my mouth. I figured if she could gnaw down on a poodles ear, I could handle a few wild daisies. I am surprised super glue or something didn't appear in order for these yellow flowers to stick to my bald head. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">My visit progressed too rapidly during my short stay and the planned activities for Poppy Rodney were always interesting. What was even more impressive to me, was the fact I was there almost two days before I dawned on me I was the only one wearing shoes in the house. I also realized that breakfast, lunch and supper were not just a formal throw together for visitors or guests. Sarah prepared every meal, placed it on the table, where everyone ate together. Dishes were not left on the table, but taken to the sink where they were appropriately rinsed out and placed in the dish washer. What I found amazing is I never saw a dish in the dish washer removed. Someone did it? I can't recall any "assigned" responsibilities for the older girls. I am sure there were, I just never noticed them do anything in the kitchen. The kitchen was Sarah's Woman Cave and it was permissible to pass through with an unspoken rule hanging in the air, don't tarry too long. I remember distinctly when they were first married, Sarah could not boil water. I am being a little facetious when I say that she needed a recipe book to put a bowl of cereal together! My word, the transition I observed in that 13 year span of time. My daughter-in-law has certainly come a long way baby in the culinary arts. Every thing she makes is from scratch and there is nothing she sets in front of you that is not absolutely wonderful. One of the first things I smelled when I walked into their home was the fresh smell of something being baked. I found out it was a Rhubarb Pie. Want some? Stewart got a big ole scoop of that stuff while it was still warm and I politely declined. Rhubarb? Wasn't quiet sure if I wanted to go there with that one or not, simply because I had never heard of that kind of pie down in my part of the South. I finally came to realize her expanded cooking talents after sampling a small piece of that Rhubarb pie stuff. Well, let me confess here. Only because I was trying to be socially correct, respectful of the fact I was a guest in their home and not wanting to trespass in Sarah's woman cave is the only reason I didn't eat the rest of that pie by myself!!! </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">I</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">talian Wedding Soup which is spinach floating in a soup mixture with a thousand pasta balls the size of #2 buckshot was introduced for supper one night. Remember my socially correct manner I worked so hard on? I was very happy to see Stewart get up for a second helping. I smiled and said "why not, this is good."</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">What they didn't see, was that Katherine didn't eat all of her supper, but Sarah sure thought she did. She asked me what my favorite desert was and after eliminating everything made with sugar, I settled with Cheese Cake. I was then grilled with topping questions and settled on caramel topping. Before bed time, guess what Poppy Rodney feasted on? Made from scratch I might add. She also mentioned what had to be an "Alaskan desert" when she asked me if I had ever eaten any Moose Balls when I lived up there 43 years ago. I just looked at her hoping we were still talking about desserts and said, "Nope, I</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">don't reckon I have." Thinking back so many years, I finally told her that the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">only thing I remember was some reindeer sausage. She then shared with me the way Moose Balls were made and carefully prepared before they were filled with cream cheese. As I struggled to keep my focus on the dessert aspect of Moose Balls, I remember commenting that it would seem to be a deliberate and time consuming task to make them of which she agreed that it was. She told me she had a friend down the hill that made them at home and sold them for profit. Sarah did not make any herself, but her friend showed up a couple of days later with a bunch of them for us. Yes! They were delicious and you could not eat just one. With that being said, I'm sure it was a head thing with me, because I could not eat two, so my total consumption was three. Could have easily been five but I had to stand in line or bully three girls had I wanted more.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">As I continued to ease into the Ferguson/Alaskan home, things that concerned me about being a stranger to these kids faded quickly. I felt like I had always lived and been a part of their world while still thousands of miles apart. I was able to be part of the life Stewart and Sarah made for themselves. I also noticed how consistent, patient and determined Sarah was in keeping her home, loving her girls and support she gave her husband. One evening Sarah was in her Woman Cave while Stewart and I were watching TV. He got up to do something and looked at me and made a general statement. "I'm hot." Without hesitation, Sarah</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">said, "Yes your are!" He said not a word. Just looked at me, shook his head and rolled his eyes. I just smiled. Those girls love their daddy, too. As the older girls are somewhat stand offish, little Audry doesn't hesitate to spread her affection. I was able to capture one picture that touched my heart and helped me realize my son was exactly the man I prayed he would be. Typical girls, they push each other's buttons and aggravate each other like all siblings do. Elizabeth is clearly the eldest of the three, Katherine has established her own identity in her world and Audry is either welcomed when those two are together or she is rejected and sent away in tears. Let me just add that she recovers quickly. Sarah is amazingly tuned into most conversations between the girls and quick to correct any stinging or hurtful words they might say to each other. In their own little part of Alaska, the three of them spend hours with each other in and out of the woods where they have forts, bear traps and swings spotted in separate parts of their three acres. Sarah told me that Elizabeth is very protective of Katherine at school and will be the same way with Audry. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">As I have said before, Sarah runs a good house hold and Stewart exists in the background as the enforcer of Mom's world. No one wants that part of him, but those girls seem to worship the ground he walks on. I never heard one voice raised in anger among any of them. Those girls are always tattling on each other, now, and firm corrections are made often by Mom and sometimes Dad. Sarah had the occasion for some unknown reason to me, to spank Elizabeth and Katherine for something they had done. They came down the stairs and Elizabeth announced to me, "That didn't hurt at all," and Katherine agreed. Well, Sarah caught wind of that statement and was quick to revisit that meeting. There was not another word said after that second trip to mom's woodshed except from Katherine. "I don't like it when momma uses that wood spoon." I noticed Audry</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">was hanging pretty close to me after this reenforcement period and I didn't quite understand until Elizabeth regained her composure and came down stairs. I could tell something was wrong so I made a wild guess and told her that as much as I loved them, Poppy Rodney was always on mom and dad's side and I tattled, too. Elizabeth smiled and hugged my neck and went into the yard to play. I felt what seemed to be this heavy sigh of relief emanate from the little one sitting behind me. It dawned on me how Sarah "caught wind" of Elizabeth and Katherine's bold statement, it didn't hurt. The guilty little mouse realized she was just spared from a possible execution from her older sisters. I turned around looking over my shoulder and couldn't help from taking this picture as she sat there with that "you just saved me, Poppy smile on her face!" </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> Stewart had sent me pictures of a massive Grizzly bear and a Black bear that he had killed last summer at his bear stand. This place was up the Dalton Highway (The Ice Road) from Fairbanks and was assigned to him by the Alaska State Troopers Wildlife Enforcement Department. Although he had not hunted the spot in a couple of weeks, meaning he had not kept it baited for bear, he decided he would like to introduce his father to the excitement of the bear hunt! I was all in. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> We set off for the hunting grounds somewhere in the Last Frontier around 7:30 pm as we intersected the Dalton Highway. We were headed north on this normally busy roadway when one of 10 vehicles we saw the entire trip passed us. As the driver started to turn back into the drivers lane, a mother moose decided to cross the road not seven car lengths in front of us. The passing vehicle braked hard and swerved to avoid a major collision with the moose as she slipped in the roadway just in time to keep the car from hitting her! Stewart was able to brake enough for her to regain her legs and continue to cross the road unharmed. We stopped at the spot the incident occurred and on my side of the vehicle, down in a wet land environment, was baby moose while momma waited patiently down in the wet land on Stewart's side of the vehicle. I took a few pics of momma and baby and we pulled up a hundred feet or so and stopped. within a minutes time, momma was back on the road encouraging baby moose to join her and off they went. I should mention that had that car struck momma, we would probably have become entangled in this massive engagement of vehicle and moose flesh. Vehicle and moose collisions are almost always fatal to the animal and often times fatal to the driver or occupants of the vehicle. After the excitement, we continued north into Russia's own to our destination. I was so fortunate to capture another momma moose and her twin calves on my cell phone just a few more miles north. I use that picture today as my profile picture on facebook.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> We finally reached the location of his assigned bear hunting site around 0945 pm. He parked the truck on the Alaskan Pipeline at Block Point N at mile marker 365.2 from the North Slope, Stewart unloaded the four wheeler, loaded it up with supplies and encouraged me to climb on. A mile or so down the pipe line he stopped and we packed up and headed into the woods. we loaded ourselves with as many marshmellows, honey, syrup, sticky sweet stuff as you can imagine along with a 60 pound bag of dog food complet with chairs and a ground blind, Just before we enter the woods, Stewart stops at the trail entrance and pulls his 357 magnum from the holster pausing cautiously before he continued to his assigned spot. I had enough sense to know why he did that and breathed a sigh of relief as I consciously felt my own 45 cal 1911 with personal defense rounds snug in the holster on my side. It was here he shared with me that humans are number 5 on the food chain. The Polar Bear, Grizzly Bear, Black Bear and Wolf packs are the top 4. In other words, Dad, he continued, if they decide they want to eat you, wait until they are up close and shoot them through the eyes or mouth. I certainly found that bit of information extremely encouraging. About 50 yards </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">down the trail, he paused and pointed at bear scat on the well used path we were walking on. It was here I discovered the truth about the bear question. Yes. Bears do, do do in the woods! Steadily down hill another couple of hundred yards we came to a spot where a 55 gallon barrel with a window hole cut into the side was cabled to a tree. Stewart filled it up with the dog food, along with a lot of other "sweet stuff" bears rather enjoy! He then set up a small propane burner a few feet from the cabled barrel and filled it with marsh mellows, old honey and whatever else and set the concoction on the burning flame. While doing this we were both fighting for our lives from swarms of Alaskan mosquito's determined to void us of our live giving blood. They were simply trying to tote us off before the big mosquitos got there. So, during the hustle of checking the trail cam, setting up the candy store and smoke scent for bears, preparing the ground blind we were to sit in waiting for these unsuspecting bears, Stewart casually suggest I keep my eyes open. Something about a charging bear not taking kindly to us being there sorta put the mosquito's in a distant place in the back of my head despite their pesky persistence. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> After about :45 minutes of packing stuff in, times two trips to the four wheeler a scant 300 yards uphill from where we were, we finally established a hunting posture comfortably inside the ground blind. Once you set up a mosquito thermo cell repellent inside of the blind, you can take off protective clothing as the mosquito's will certainly leave you alone. Comfortable and waiting for a social</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> visit from some unknown bear, Stewart continues my bear education. They know we are here, Dad. They smell that stuff a mile away and they smell us too. My concern is they have used the trail (remember the scat?) and could come in from behind us. That would not be good because the bear would have the advantage of surprise on us. He told me the black bear he killed last year was coming up a tree after him and he shot her between his feet looking down on her. That Grizzly we killed here a week or two later was 1200 hundred pounds. Three of us were sitting in tree stands when he came and and looked at us one time and went back to the barrel of goodies. Grizzly's cant climb, but they are powerful enough to just knock the tree we were in over. Took us 6 hours to get that giant bear from here up to the pipeline. All of this information was processing through my head when I asked him where his hunting rifle was. I knew it was in the truck and just figured he had packed it down from the four wheeler. He casually replied he left it in the truck. If a black bear came in we could take it with his pistol. Grizzly might be more of a challenge though. I remained calm and collected. There was absolutely no panic on my part but my 45 found its way out of my holster because it felt more comfortable on my lap. He had told me before I ever flew up that I need to be in shape because if a big Grizz did come into the perimeter we may have to vacate rapidly. Looking at him and that silly smile when he said that made him realize he had a better chance of getting fresh chicken crap from between his toes quicker than he could get rid of me. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;"> Midnight came and turned into 2 am as it never got dark in the land of the midnight sun. We eventually decided to "break camp" and seek other adventures of the great north. We did not have to pack out the dog food and other bundles of goodies that found itself into the barrel as bait. With that in mind, I figured we could collect what was remaining and make one trip back to the four wheeler. That second trek up the scat laden trail took its toll on this 65 year old so I did not want to do it a fourth time. Stewart loaded me up and he bore the burden of what remained and up the trail we started. I will not mention that I could not breath. Nor will I tell anyone I could not feel my legs or body functioning. There was no pain as I simply could not breath. Had Mr. Grizzly, Black Bear, Wolf or Ground Squirrel wanted to take me, I would simply have disappeared from this world. No possible way am I ever going to admit that I was totally unable to even call Stewart's name to slow down and wait for me. I was beyond exhaustion as all I could do was suck in air to help me sustain what little life remained. I had every </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 19.32px;">intention of jokingly telling Stewart that I would never do to my daddy what he was doing to his but the words or any word would not come out of my mouth! I just thought I was in a little bit of shape, NOT, but what I did find out was I had a pretty dang good heart! So as we returned from the bear pit, stored equipment into his truck, loaded the four wheeler, we killed as many mosquito's as we could just for the hell of it before getting into the truck. As we sat there a few short moments in the early morning light, he looks at me with that smile that I remembered as a child and asked, "Dad, have you ever seen the Yukon River? Makes the Mississippi look like a mud puddle." I took this picture as we started the truck and turned north yet once again. I guess because the sun never went down, my bio-clock had not told me I was running on 24 hrs no sleep.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: medium;">I guess some day I will finish this story... Procrastination or old age? Probably a whole bunch of both...</span></div>
Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-44016231205906748222016-01-08T20:07:00.002-06:002016-12-09T11:06:22.835-06:00Rod's Reflections for the Entire Year of 2016<br />
<b><i>I would seem remiss if I did not continue my collection of cogitative reflections as at any moment, something could play across my mind. It took until the 8th day of the new year to tranquilize enough thoughts important enough for me to place in a collective format that I might enjoy reading in some distant place at some given time. After all, I think my "reflections" for 2015 actually ended with my last post on December 2nd, as nothing really "bookmarked" in my head the rest of the year. And at my age, what good does staying up until midnight really do for me except bite into my personal sleep time? So let me see how this year goes. I'll try to encourage myself to write these postscripts of sorts to myself as this year progresses... After all, I will be 65 in just a scant few days and it may not be many days longer until I may need to read something to remind myself that some of the things I may have written down, actually happened. In the Month of May, I realized my blogging collection was slowing way down, so I changed the name to Rod's Reflections for the Entire Year of 2016. P.S. It Starts with the Month of January... Scroll to the bottom for the most recent post. It isn't that far down. </i></b><br />
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<b style="font-size: x-large;">January 2016</b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"> I am guilty of surfing the pages of Facebook on a regular basis. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"> I have been known to run across things that leave a serious impression on me. This is the month I am to began the 6th year of my 7th decade as an American</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;">. Having reached this age, I have personally witnessed, as well as experienced, the slow decline of this once great America which we are no longer. I could share hours on this subject and touch on the "so many" why's but let us remember it was our parents that allowed someone elected on their behalf to kick God out of our school systems. The family structure soon followed as more children were born to unwed mothers than those that were married. And the Church? The majority of them supported these unwed mothers with showers and blessings. So slipped the third institution instrumental in my early development. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"> Oh yeah, that continued with my generation's approval too. I cannot just blame my parents now. They may have allowed Satan himself into every home in this country as a television set but it was us Baby Boomers that embraced it and set it up as a roll model for our children!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"> So as I fast forward through memories of the Spring, Summer and Fall of my life, I can sit with a handful of collected wisdom in the Winter of my life and understand why we have become who we are today. Think about this, Chris Kyle is called a racist murderer after saving the lives of countless warriors that wore our country's flag, yet in the same breath, these progressives call Bowe Bergdahl a hero! Speaking of that flag, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;">remember the debate that swept our country about our colors being worn as a swim suit, shirt or improperly displayed, while it was perfectly "okay" for anyone to burn and trample on these colors in protest of what exactly? Some of you may remember my July 4, 2015 post of the American Flag Shirt I purchased and wore that day. Was it un-american for me to do that? Find the post and read it. And so the question about this photograph is being passed around today as un-american. Here is the picture and here is my response:</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"> This photograph is absolutely, profoundly, solid American. That child will know one day how fortunate he/she is to have been born American and to be wrapped in the colors the world emulates with the Field of Honor surrounding the baby's head. This baby, our future and the world's hope, is being supported in the representative arms of every person that shed their blood for our freedom. This Marine's promise to this child's tomorrow speaks loudly, "I am the sword that stands in harms way for you!" What greater love?? That is the America I grew up in. People that would give their today for my tomorrow. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;">Posted January 8 from my afternoon home</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: large; line-height: 19.32px;"><b>FEBRUARY</b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> <span style="font-size: small;"> A bright Wednesday morning. The center of our solar system remains constant as my side off the earth turns her face to this source of life. Rotating on her axis ever so slightly, yet consistently, each day gives us more light which stimulates the daffodil to come forth and promise us Spring. Already the Tulip Magnolia's have displayed their soft blooms so often covered in fading seasonal frost. I ponder life often times. The fragility of such balanced with time. I look at m</span></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.32px;">y river and see change. Consistent as the stars we exist in yet different still. Close enough to touch yet still far enough to remain who she really is. A part of life. Giving only what is needed and sometimes desired. You know, that balance of need and want we as humans always battle? Yet her own identifying message. I too am consistent. Silent, constantly moving, deep and very cold. Maybe that is why I spend less time here beside her most mornings. There is change. In both of us actually. At least in our passing we know each other are safe and content inside of our designed universe.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.32px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="line-height: 19.32px;"> Well folkses, my heart almost stopped this morning and that sick nauseating feeling of revulsion overtook me. As I was taking my 15-year-old granddaughter to high school this morning, we stopped at McDonald's for a quick before school snack. She selects a single hash brown and a caramel cold coffee latte (?) and we are again off to the re-learning camp. As this short trip unfolded, I thought I would ask her a question. Baby, if you could vote today, who would you vote for. Immediately she hits me with three </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.32px;">names. Bernie Sanders, Trump and Cruz. I remained calm and encouraged her on. She didn't say much about Trump, Cruz or any other candidate, but she did tell me if she had to vote today, it would be for Bernie Sanders. I did well keeping my composure and actually kept my car in the correct lane of travel when I asked why, and listened for her reason. Sanders will give me a free college education which will allow me to make a lot of money and he said, he would take care of our veterans. We pull up to school and I have managed to maintain my composure. No melt down. I ask her how much is a lot of money? $10,000 a year, she said. I felt a heart beat of hope but then realized she had no concept of what "how much" really was or maybe, just maybe, this institute of higher learning or re-education center had already conditioned her into this "sharing the wealth" mentality. So, as she prepared to get out of the car, I asked her to look at three things and get back with me. Capitalism, socialism and communism. As a quick reminder, I sent her off with this thought. Capitalism gives you the chance to make $50,000 a year (a number I picked much higher than her anticipated $10k) while you give five of your friends a $10,000 dollar a year job. Socialism allows you to keep $5,000 of your $10,000 and gives the other to your friends enabling them to stay home and watch TV or play video games, whatever they chose while you work. Communism on the other hand, takes all of your money and gives you what you need to get by, like housing, public transportation and food. I asked her to look into that and she said, "Okay, Poppy," and got out of the car. I'm still sick to my stomach. And yes. This is happening on my watch. Like waiting for someone to die so they can move in with their momma... </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.32px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-size: x-small; line-height: 19.32px;"><b> <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: small;">And February faded with this years 29th day as did the entire month of March. I was reminded I had a few days remaining to share my thoughts with my blog, yet nothing seemed to move me into that moment. Maybe the days of the blog and short stories taps its fingers in discernment as the sun sets on the season I enjoyed so much? Who holds that key? So many things to say and share. Who am I? Does anyone really know? I often wonder if I know who I am.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.32px;"> <span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;">Sometime tomorrow our new stainless fridge will take the place of its predecessor that existed in that spot for 18 years +\-. What surprised me was that Linda managed to paint the wall red when we repainted that area 4 years ago! 18 years... Linda found stuff in that thing we had to specially package and send as hazardous waste to the Center for Disease Control just to see if the contents could be disposed of in a proper landfill. Imagine that. Oh well. We haven't killed a grandkid yet and most of them that have blessed this house found the good stuff to munch on at the bottom of that refrigerator as it watched them grow up and me grow older.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica";">Posted April 17 from my afternoon home</span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica";"> What a beautiful Sunday evening. I am sitting on my patio under a comfortable, overcast, post sunset as a light breeze teases the tender new leaves of the large red oak beside my house. A Whip-O-Will sings her familiar melody across the pipeline as another three pounds of Cajun shrimp comforts my hunger. The amphibian choral ensemble picks up its performance as a momentary break in the overcast sky gives me a glimpse of a beautiful waxing gibbous moon as Jupiter smiled at me over her right shoulder. What could be a more settling definition for contentment?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica";">Posted April 17 from my evening Patio</span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: large;"><b>MAY</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> Today was just another Friday. I had made my mail pick up for city hall and had returned to my code enforcement unit to spot check a few places that I had addressed earlier in the week. As I proceeded down our typically normal city streets, I slowed somewhat as I observed an older couple (remember i'm 65) stopped on a sidewalk adjacent the street I was driving. The elderly gentleman was supporting himself on two of those older metal crutches that you slip your hands through before gripping the handle while the crutches then form a solid embrace around your forearms giving you stability. For some reason I focused on the aluminum frame wraped around his left forearm as his short sleeved shirt and overalls clad back was to me. Kneeling before him with one, possibly both of her knees on the hard sidewalk was an equally aged woman, I assumed was his wife of many years. I noticed her long dress and grey hair as the picture of both of them froze in my mind. His head was bowed as if in prayer as he was looking down at his helper. Helpless was he, yet able she was as she knelt before him to simply tie a shoe lace... As quickly as I saw them I had passed them as I turned at the next intersection continuing my purpose. Yet here I sit in my late afternoon home with a picture of that moment in time still plesantly dancing in my mind. As I continue to polish this picture in my mind, the words, He gave him a helper continued to echo in my mind, so just a few minutes ago, I googled it. This is what I found in the book of Genesis. God said, "It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him." How much more could that picture frozen in my mind be more perfectly defined. I don't reckon any Friday is just another Friday if you just allow yourself to see the picture... Yes... They are all around us...</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> </b></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 19.32px;">Look close. I am a generous man. This is nothing more than the remaining bone of my supper time pork chop. I deliberately stirred up a thriving red ant bed in my back yard as I dropped it onto their mounded dwelling in the midst of my St Augustine grass as I left for choir practice around 1740 this afternoon. As I settled on my patio to take in the sounds of a once blistering and now fading day around to 2010 hour, I checked to see if my generous "manna" was appreciated. Enlarge and look closely. The ants are in a glutinous stupor and I realized this has to be a Christian colony. Those certainly ain't Muslim ants on dat poke chop!</span><br />
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I simply could not help this post. Tomorrow morning, I will go out there and urinate on their fattened, gloated asses and kill off their queen with my excess uric acid and not lose a moments rest. How dare any of their kind bite any human in their indifference, especially my innocent grand children! They must know I am superior for this time being even knowing at some distant time their species will feast on what remains of my earthly temple. Again they will know I am superior remembering my moments of kindness yet once again realizing that as they feast upon my carrion, the embalming fluid that remains, will add thousands more of their numbers to the darkened depths they fed only to return to dust with what is left to time.<br />
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Posted June 29 from my afternoon home.<br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">JULY</span></strong><br />
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<!-- react-text: 72 --> So with the meeting between Bill and Loretta, I was not as surprised as I was disgusted when Comey came out and said the FBI was not going to prosecute Hilliary. So, despite the fact that she did have several violations of federal law against her along with numerous misleading statements we as the conservative public recognize as lying and Comey recognized as perjury, she walks away unscathed and accepted by the liberal public as the rightful aire to the presidency. Well folkses, <!-- /react-text --><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g">Heah be da deal. Me thinks everything and I mean EVERYTHING has already been set into motion to guarantee a Hilliary transition into the white house. Barry has violated the constitution and smothered us with executive orders his entire stay in office all of which will expedite this transition as not one voice of opposition was raised by those the majority of us elected to do just that! Now, here is my prediction. What you won't see, if by honest chance Donald Trump wins the election, is his transition into the white house. Federal agencies, if you have not been paying attention, from homeland through the Hoover group to include the already tested BLM are prepared to enforce a total sweep toward a new USSA or United Socialist States of America. Okay, you're all ready to laugh and dismiss me to a total right wing nut case. Go ahead, but despite the secular left leaning media's attempt to feed all of us the propaganda this administration wants us to hear, some things are placed on our plates that we just ignore. Such as the fact that all General Officers of our armed forces that we expected would defend the Constitution of the United States against enemies foreign and domestic have been fired or retired. Every thing is in place. If you feel slightly bruised from this "slap?" You wait. Hilliary, if she absolutely has to, will mark her time if the Republicans keep the house and senate in this coming November election. Give her two years, and the life we have all known will be all hers to do what she wishes as she has already publically said she would appoint a disbarred lawyer to the Supreme Court! Remember his name? Barack Hussein Obama? Do not forget now, Donald Trump has already revealed to us the TRUE COLORS of the Senate and House Republicans as some of these elites have openly endorsed Hilliary. We have heard conservative pundits refer to these Republican lifers as RINO's and without doubt, will join forces with the Progressive Democrat Party to become an elite sort of politburo as they have already sold their soul to gain the world. </span></span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g"> So here is my conclusion? If Trump wins, the oppression will begin immediately. Black Lives Matter, active LGBT groups, Islamic terrorist cells or ISIS radicals, millennial activist on college campuses all over this country will start the riot, loot and burn routine and Barry will simply put this country under Marshal Law. I didn't even mention major cities that are controlled by gangs, did I? Anyway, when this happens, our president will not have to step down from the presidency. You see, ole Barry ain't giving the white house to no one but Hilliary. Now, if Hillairy wins, and according to the media she will, we will slowly be stripped of our freedoms over the next two to four years. Israel will all but be forgotten and without the help of the United States will find her hands full with every muslim country in the middle east. In the 21 Century you will see Ahab and Jezebel and the prophets of baal all over again folkses,. Now maybe those fatalist amongst us will say it is time for our Lord to return and He will put a stop to this. Two quick points here from a non-biblical scholar. No one knows the time of His return and secondly, our God's time table has a whole bunch to do with his chosen people, Israel. In the meantime imagine the appointed successor of Hilliary and Bill? None other that Chelsea Hubble Clinton her majesty. Well, maybe the last is a little far reaching but I suspect it is time for people to start dying unexpectedly from suicides, plane crashes, car accidents or armed robberies... I mean seriously, haven't we seen this already with these two? Absolutely. They are above the law of this once Godly country. </span></span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody _1n4g"> One parting thought. The last time I ever saw this country this divided was Professor History's account of our Civil War. Both the Union North and Confederate South believed that Jehovah God was on their side. This was what President Lincoln was responding to, when asked, "Mr. President, do you believe that God is on your side?" And his response to the reporter was historic. "Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God's side, for God is always right." With that said, the division that exist in this country now is not questionable. There are the people of God and the Godless. Oh, and by the way, I did not misspell Hilliary. The word <strong><em>liar</em></strong> truly applies to this person and name. </span></span><br />
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Posted on my Blog Only, July 6, 2016<br />
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A friend of mine posted an email she received from her brother a few days back and I was disappointed that I could not "share" the contents on my wall. I asked if she could email the contents and she agreed. This is part of a sermon I believe that the Reverand Franklin Graham delivered at somepoint central to this existing time and I felt like sharing with the few people that still had my newsfeed posting on their wall. So much truth. This time from a biblical scholar. What think ye?<br />
Time is like a river. You cannot touch the water twice, because<br />
the flow that has passed will never pass again.<br />
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Franklin Graham was speaking at the First Baptist<br />
Church in Jacksonville, Florida in January, 2015, when he said America<br />
will not come back. He wrote: The American dream ended on November 6th, 2012 in<br />
Ohio. The second term of Barack Obama has been the final nail in the coffin for the legacy of the white Christian males who discovered, explored, pioneered, settled and developed the greatest republic in the history of mankind.<br />
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A coalition of blacks, Latinos, feminists, gays, government workers, union members, environmental extremists, the media, Hollywood, uninformed young people, the "forever needy," the chronically unemployed, illegal aliens and other "fellow travelers" have ended Norman Rockwell's America. You will never again out-vote these people. It will take individual acts of defiance and massive displays of civil disobedience to get back the rights we have allowed them to take away. It will take zealots, not moderates and shy, not reach-across-the-aisle RINOs to right this ship and restore our beloved country to its former status.<br />
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People like me are completely politically irrelevant, and I will probably never again be able to legally comment on or concern myself with the aforementioned coalition which has surrendered<br />
our culture, our heritage and our traditions without a shot being fired. The cocker spaniel is off the front porch, the pit bull is in the backyard. The American Constitution has been replaced with<br />
Saul Alinsky's "Rules for Radicals" and the likes of Chicago shyster David Axelrod along with international socialist George Soros have been pulling the strings on their beige puppet and have brought us Act 2 of the New World Order.<br />
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The curtain will come down but the damage has been done, the story has been told. Those <strong><em>who come after us</em></strong> will once again have to risk their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor<br />
to bring back the Republic that this generation has timidly frittered away due to white guilt and political correctness...<br />
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If you have the forsight to pass this on, please do. If not, I understand. We were not willing to risk our lives to save what the prayers of God fearing me asked for and received from an Almighty Creator. I am not talking about you. I am talking about <strong><em>us</em></strong>. Collectively. Like Reverend Graham said in his last paragraph. It will be those who come after our time has gone, that will once again, have to risk their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor to bring back the Republic that this generation has timidly frittered away due to white guild and political correctness..<br />
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Just saying.<br />
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Posted July 20 from my home<br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"> Tremendously disappointed in Cruz. He was in my top four from the very beginning.. I understand the disgusting joust of political positioning and feel that any canidate that seeks the office of president should be able to rise above the garbage after it is dumped and move on. He folded. He redefined everything I had hoped he was and still could have been in his defeat. Ted Cruz has proven he was in and is still in this political position for personal gain. Not as a representative of you and I, but himself. He has defined himself as the RINO he has always been and is now positioning himself to be part of the progressive democratic and RINO elements of both the house and senate that very easily could become the ruling politburo under the continued presidency of Obama if Trump wins outright, or if Hilliary wins and dismantles the Constitu;tion of the United States as she has promised to do. Continued presidency of Obama? Yes. If Trump wins, regardless of by how much or how little, this country is going to explode from coast to coast and he will declare marshal law. And we just saw Mr. Cruz position himself to be among the ruling socialist as all of thiis unfolds before us.</span></span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody">Posted July 23 from my afternoon home</span></span><br />
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Facebook is teasing me with a new bio feed update window. I actually thought I would engage their request and typed away. After compiling what I thought to be a different twist to my personality, I found that I could not update the "new bio," so I copied it onto here. So here is what my new bio would read had the "add a new bio," allowed me to print:<br />
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Sitting at my kitchen breakfast bar on the last day of July, I find myself one of many seasoned senior citizen's of a once great, but rapidly declining country. Like many of us, I have allowed my lips to remain silent and my actions civil while at the same time, being led a very long way from where I actually belonged. See, in my heart I saw what was happening, but to keep peace like law abiding citizens do, I found myself adjusting to changing social mores that grated against my moral boundaries. So now, when I am forced to drink the cool-aide, I am positive I will resi<span class="text_exposed_show">st to the best of my physical abilities and transform back into the mold I came from. I am a white <strong><em>Christian</em></strong> <strong><em>male</em></strong> who sins but knows that <strong><em>Christ is my intercessor with Jehovah</em></strong>. I was born and raised in the solid south where I learned that a <strong><em>firearm</em></strong> was part of my heritage! I proudly became a Democrat when I turned 18 the same day I registered for the draft. Thanks to old Jimmy Carter, I became a <strong><em>Republican</em></strong> in 1973 when I returned to Louisiana as a US Army<strong><em> veteran</em></strong>. As of this posting, I have seriously considered becoming part of the <strong><em>conservative Independent Party</em></strong> because the 2016 Presidential contest opened my eyes helping me to realize my treasured Republican party has begun to sip the cool-aide of progressiveness and is no longer as conservative as it once was! So who am I then? Well, it appears I fit my own governments definition of a domestic terrorist. Go figure.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted July 31, from my late evening home</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">AUGUST</span><br />
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The dog days of August struggled through its designated time on the calendar. Uncomfortable heat, humid afternoons accented with accumulating heat cells that could drop two inches of rain in 15 minutes and be gone. As with last month, I did not hear the first song from my Mockingbird. I guess like me they sought the solace of cooler places and saved their energy for gathering food. I do miss their comfort in song during these testing days knowing they are still present as they reveal themselves to me occasionally as the move across my visual. The too know the fall equinox cometh. As for me? There was nothing of significance to share except for that stupid Sciatic Nerve Viper that bit me. Oh my word. Maybe shingles would be more tolerable?? Oh yeah, forgot. I had that vaccination. Besides, I an the only one that reads this anyway. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">SEPTEMBER</span><br />
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Birthday wish to my niece, Tracy Borden Whitaker in Kansas. My dearest Tracy. Life, like time, moves forward. Nothing makes it go faster, while at the same time, the same Source that controls the day and night, never slows it down. Not so true in the hearts, mind and life of His most treasured creations. As children, it took, it seemed, a lifetime for Christmas to ever get here. We could not wait to be in the first grade, 6th grade, a teen ager, get our drivers licenses and what ever else we wanted. Just took so long for us and we were so impatient for things to happen, we wished our life away. Now here we are. Let's just you and I say, at this age in our life. Isn't it amazing now that we have wished our life away how everything comes and goes so fast now. Wasn't it just yesterday we were still in the spring of our life? Wasn't it just yesterday we looked forward to Thanksgiving dinner at Maw Maw and Pap Paws house? Wasn't it just yesterday I actually had this birthday, yet it was a year ago? Who is this person I am looking at in this mirror? Where has time gone now that it is moving so fast? I reckon you need to let me know when you figure it out. Being the 20 some years ahead of you, I have more or less accepted the fast pace life has taken. In fact, I became so consumed in living it I overlook simple things like a birthday. Like I did yours. Well, I didn't overlook it, I just did not take the time to post on your timeline a simple, Happy Birthday, Tracy... Why? I was busy and that time evaporated so quickly. Thought of you now... But we always "think" of others... Thinking of others gives you and I a peace in our head and it helps "resolve" our intentions of communication. Doesn't do a thing for the person we were thinking about though, does it? So, with having said all of that, allow me to tell you Happy Birthday for all of those I actually missed and especially for the one I just missed last year and yesterday. I love you, sweet niece and despite time vacating a void within us and between so many we think about, never doubt that I love you. I doubt not your love for me as well. After all, we are family. For a short time here, which is just an eye blink between the two eternities we are currently existing in. Go figures. Wipe the tears and smile. There is still life to live!<br />
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And of course, her beautiful response.<br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody">What a sweet and thoughtful birthday sentiment. I thank you, love you, and appreciate you and your taking the time to read this. Wipe my tears? Well.. I haven't been crying much lately and I have "thought" of you. (lol!) <span class="_1gwo" title="wink emoticon"><span aria-hidden="true" class="emoticon emoticon_wink"></span><span aria-hidden="true" class="_skr">;)</span></span> Yes, it's all going by too fast so there is nothing left to do but hurry up and live it. Right? I had a great birthday. About 4 days of joy, then a real life struggle reared its ugly head again. Thank God it will pass fast too. Though the rough times seem to stand still, there is an advantage to the ticking clock with hands that only more forward. The sad and bad stuff will be over soon enough as the good. Always remember that part. I love you, Uncle <a aria-controls="js_u" aria-describedby="js_v" aria-haspopup="true" class="profileLink" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/hovercard.php?id=1184138126&extragetparams=%7B%22hc_location%22%3A%22ufi%22%7D" dir="ltr" href="https://www.facebook.com/rod.ferguson.9?hc_location=ufi" id="js_w" role="" target="_blank"><!-- react-text: 47 -->Rod<!-- /react-text --></a>. Love, Tracy </span></span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody">Posted September14 from my early morning office</span></span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"><span style="font-size: large;">OCTOBER</span></span></span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="UFICommentBody"><span style="font-size: large;">NOVEMBER</span></span></span><br />
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Has been a while since I've sat by my rivers edge in the predawn hours of a new day. A firm wind from the south extends the highlighted colors of America's iconic symbol, reminding me of the very reason we should celebrate thanksgiving everyday. It was just this past July conservative voices of all spiritual denominations across this country lifted our voices in a unison plea for Jehovah God to hold true to his written word. <em><strong>"If my people, who are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land."</strong> </em> It was around the 4th of July that this verse from God's Holy Word was lifted to Him in a plea from all of us to help save this country from the coming election a short four (4) months away. Sides have never been more politically divided along party lines since State Rights plunged brother against brother in the Civil War. This time is was not slavery, taxation or anything else that could or would divide us. This time it boiled down to Conservatism vs Liberalism; Capitalism vs Socialism; Republican vs Progressive Democrat; Black vs Asian vs Hispanic vs White; Christian vs Agnostic vs Islam. And yes, for awhile most of us <strong><em>"humbled ourselves" </em></strong> and <strong><em>"prayed" </em></strong>while we <strong><em>"sought His face," </em></strong>for a while... As I pondered this verse over and over in my mind on this windy morning, my river simply confirmed in this early morning hour that if Our God did in fact hear our prayers as evidenced by so many of us that gloat on the outcome of the political landscape today, then it is OUR turn. We must Turn From Our Wicked Ways! If you humbled yourself and prayed to Our God while seeking His face, then it is YOUR turn to do exactly that. How Stand ye on His request of us/you?<br />
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Posted November 28 from my early morning River.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">DECEMBER</span><br />
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Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-26560336918006168732015-12-02T19:12:00.002-06:002016-01-08T21:33:23.824-06:00Rod's Reflections for December 2015<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">December 2015</span></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> It was a dream. One of those kind that wake you up and send you to the bathroom during the waning hours of any given morning. By the time I had finished my early morning void and I returned to move my favorite feline out of what remained of my vacated warm spot, the dream had already left my slow functioning mind. I slide in on my right side, placed my left leg over my body pillow and burrowed my shaved head into my pillow. Yes, yes... Paradise, as I pull the covers over my chilled shoulders to help restore that perfect balance of body temperature conducive to productive sleep. Just seconds before I yield to the demands of another paradoxical sleep, I feel my domesticated, Russian Blue, little gray stray curl up in the small of my back as close to me as she can so she too might enjoy that peaceful rest before I stir once again. The dream I left was somehow placed on pause! It started right where it left off as the sandman dusted me into the first stages rapid eye movement. Now, who in this realm of cognizant reasoning ever dreams of surfing facebook besides me? Yet that is where I found myself, arrowing down through pages of "news feeds" from who, what, when and where ever! A comforting repose began as I fell deeper into my trance like sleep. "Rod, have you noticed that your lasting wish has come through for you?" Pausing my declining consciousness as if to ponder the question posed by this unknown source, another thought process was revealed. "Of the pages you have surfed, have you noticed that not one time have you seen the face of your </span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><i>narcissistic president</i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> berating gun control or climate change or any other topic to further divide us as a people? Please take notice that I have spared you from the visual pain of those exacerbated expressions captured and posted on every other news feed for you to become more agitated with of the lefts favorite </span></span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><i>Miss Daisy</i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> as she spins her crime wave to gain the White house!" Now just how many times has it crossed my mind, how wonderful it would be if I could simply scroll through my news feeds and enjoy friend and family activities along with positive news feeds from the collections of my "liked" pages without being exposed to the disgusting faces and propaganda regurgitation's of the progressive left!! Please tell me I am not the only person that feels this way? I am sick of the promised booty the election of either of the progressives left's candidates offer, but mostly the disgusting embrace by the secular news media that paints them in a positive aura of continued change. The big rub with me? The illiterate among us on both sides of the fence that believe this dramaturgical bull feces and think there is money abundant to do this!! Another reason I shave my head. No hair to pull out. Why stop there. Let us visualize the scowl of our ever so popular <i style="font-weight: bold;">First Lady </i>now that she finally likes America. Why the attitude? Because all children, red, yellow, black and white despises the dog food lunches forced upon them while her children have the very best in school lunches. Fast forward the profound intelligent excerpts from the left coast's favorite former <i style="font-weight: bold;">House Leader, </i>"We have to pass the bill to see what is in it!" As the Queen of the West remains more and more silent the DNC highlighted yet another socialist progressive as the dryed and fried photos of <i style="font-weight: bold;">Wasser name Shultz </i>causes more acid secretions in my stomach that LIMU could possibly control! </span></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> Again that calming source of resolve regained control of my mind with a sense of comfort reminding me to "Relax, not one of these nightmares will appear again. You will see them not!" It was here that true rest overtook me. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> The dream subsided as did I until my preset alarm awakened my purpose. As 5am turned into 7am, my work computer came to life. Email review, newly added members to my spam club and a visit to my news source, <b><i>Facebook! </i></b>There I find my favorite Arms Dealer had already engaged in what was quickly substantiated in my mind, that being the false truths of dreams! It was just a dream. And now the nightmare returns. Nothing could be further from the truth than my face staring at the faces of every one of our most highly regarded leaders of this diminishing free nation. Discombobulated stress symptoms began boiling deep within the depths of my conservative foundations. It is here I always find resolve in the fact that no one is chosen for leadership unless He allows it. Yes... But didn't He allow this once before when the people demanded a King? Oh yes... Professor History has spoken clearly of this. Oh, my soul. I left out <b><i>John "Catsup" Kerry</i></b>... Enough!! There is peace in rest. Let me take my cat and see what REM sleep surprises me with tonight.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Posted December 1 from my late evening home.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"><span style="line-height: 19.32px;"> I would like to share with those of you that wrestle constantly with weight and diabetes, that I went to the donut shop today. Yes, the infamous Harlow's Donut Shop! I was sent by two very demanding front office ladies who desired the sweetness of donut holes to help stimulate their interaction with the general public. As I entered the door of this frequented establishment, temptation consumed my soul. I felt control undress me as my eyes fell upon the display of sugar gla</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.32px;">zed and baked dough and I yearned to break my vows of gluttony to partake in the very source of my needed addiction. I tore away with four donuts safely secured in two small bags praying I could reach the drive thru water payment window to deliver this tasty delicacy before my desire for the contents consumed them. With shaking hands I put both bags into the slide out tray and felt the temptation along with the evils of gluttony slip from me. Driving away I was proud I had resisted the temptation to partake in my desired fix of four donuts, two cream filled eclair's and that big apple fritter that spikes my blood sugar at 600? I don't know really, just how high it goes because I don't want to know. I can tell you this, as I sit here typing my achievement of the day, my stomach churns in hungered angst and I just sneezed twice to dispel the DT symptoms. I'm doing ok right now but I still have to drive by that source of temptation several times a day.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></span>Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-74663122160488481762015-11-04T07:15:00.002-06:002015-11-23T14:10:58.145-06:00Rod's Reflections for November 2015<span style="font-size: large;"><b>November</b></span><br />
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Welcome to November. Just as I figured, my day is starting off a little on the attitudinal side. I kind of thought it would, because I once again woke up to drizzle and another heavy overcast day. My first collected thoughts of this new day were my last evening's concerns about this <i>five star </i>administration's revelations to the American Public that there would be "boots on the ground" in Syria. Oh really? Only those that hold me close in their hearts and prayers understand the reason why this concerns me so greatly. Despite my heavy concerns at the day's beginning, I ease into McDonald's, noticing a sign on the door of "employment opportunities available for every shift." Rounding the corner, I am greeted by brand new faces never before encountered, along with my regular morning greeter of the last five years or so, who on this particular morning found herself biding time in the drive through window. As I approached the counter, I acknowledged them all and noticed a slight smile as my normal greeter slightly shook her head and turned away to avoid seeing what I was about to experience. Engaged in meeting and taking the orders from groggy, early morning customers both new and old to the local McDonald's, was the new progressive black lives matter charter members that engaged me on this particular morning. Almost immediately, it became obvious they must have been on a power high as the one on the register could not touch the right buttons despite the corrective advice offered by her companion counter aide in a rather loud exchange of culturally slain use of the English language. Eventually, the team leader realized the only corrective action that could be made was from the assistance of the assistant manager's register key whom had to be summoned from the rear of the store. Once reset, the young manager slipped off to regain composure in her hiding place and another attempt at my order was made with the announcement, "go head wit yo awduh." "Egg Mcfu..., I mean Egg McMuffin with Sausage and a senior coffee," I stated. As she punched in the order, I was told it was $2.08. I looked at her and politely said, "that is incorrect, my order should be $4.00 and some odd cents. She looked at me and said in her natural dialect, "you be sait a mcgriddle and coffee," and before I could open my mouth her capable assistant piped in with her loud 3rd Street dialect, once again bastardizing the English Language! I had reached my saturation point! You know, that mindset that exceeds the expectations of one's medication?? Just like the first attempt, I stood there listening to the early morning bullshit while the assistant manager was again summoned to reset the register as I turned my back and silently cursed at my morning's misfortunes. The proper order was finally placed, as both the team leader and counter assistant managed to properly enter my request and the correct price displayed across the pay screen. I paid by card, thankful change did not have to be made and as I walked out, I heard the all to familiar smoker's hack of my regular morning greeter as without looking, I could visualize her burying her face in her armpit as an attempt to keep that nasty crap in her chest from splattering across handled food. Once settled in my car to leave, I disgustedly wondered why the hell did I bother to come into this place as often as I did when a granola bar would have been better for me in the first place. Trust me folks, this is the revised version of the original post I only shared with a few of my good friends originally written on the 2nd day of this new month.<br />
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Posted November 4 from my early morning home<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> Folkses, I have always held firm in my belief that the first candidate in any local, State or National election to "go negative" against their opponent would be the very candidate I voted against! The closer to election time we draw, two things are becoming crystal clear. The campaign that smears the most is the campaign that noticeably shifts to the center and blatantly lies about who they are, what they believe in their heart and who they actually really represent. Politics at its very best? Well absolutely. Because here is what the users of<b> dirt </b>know so well. On both sides are the culturally <b><i>"illiterate"</i></b> crowd that only believes what they hear and see on television and radio ad's. Their social media sources have been dumb downed to their personal level of understanding as not to cause unwanted stress by finding out the truth of who should truly be called into the service of the electorate. Obviously the message of the touter is ringing louder as special interest, Unions and National Party money stains the airways of our beloved Louisiana. So when the message these people actually digested comes to pass and the colors of the winner are elegantly displayed in more <b><i>"changes"</i></b> suitable to the onslaught of the socialist agenda we have witnessed in our Nations Capitol, I will still be here shaking my head at the ignorant amongst us hoping Social Security doesn't disappear before I do. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> Sunray's breach the trees behind me bathing the raised support structures of my drawbridge in her non filtered light. My river clips along in her swirled demeanor as tendrils of soft condensation dissipate from her warmer waters into the chilled 30° air of this fall's first frost. We must wait through another two days and what is left of this beautiful developing Monday before we celebrate the giving of thanks recognized as a national holiday. As Meggie walked across my ches</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">t this morning and tickled my face with her whiskers, I sat up on the side of my bed and gave thanks for being allowed to participate in the coming day. A white Egret softly glides through the light foggy pillars from the rivers surface, flairs effortlessly to a standing halt on the edge of a sandbar just below me waiting confidently for breakfast. Thanksgiving. Precious Lord, allow me to acknowledge what I already have before I ask for more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-74000752138635364422015-10-14T07:55:00.002-05:002015-11-04T08:18:01.528-06:00Rod's Reflections for October 2015<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.32px;"><b>October 2015</b></span></span><br />
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Posted October 14 from my morning river<br />
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Walked out this morning to this October's most beautiful harvest moon,
accented with two of the brightest planets in the morning sky, Venus and
Jupiter. I have not seen the fresh clarity of the visual limits of
our solar system for several days and have shared with friends it is way too early for Seasonal Affective Disorder to start painting pictures of
despair in my mind. But a new day dawns on my river's edge as she
shimmers in her predawn run. My Red, White and Blue Memorial Flag is being teased b<span class="text_exposed_show">y
a gentle northern breeze and my gray shaded Passerine solos me from across
the peaceful divide of sister cities. Somewhere soon a cold front will
finish the desiccation of faded leaves as each passing day moves us
closer to winter's solstice. Let us embrace what is most beautiful of
each passing day and gleen wisdom from the unpleasant lessons we
encounter along this journey. Let us hasten this morning to our assigned responsibilities as this
harvest moon glides steadily to her northwestern moonset announcing the
dawning of this, a new day.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted October 28 from my morning river </span> Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-12723734196625757182015-09-16T21:09:00.002-05:002015-10-14T08:04:48.404-05:00Rod's Reflections for September 2015<b><span style="font-size: large;">September 2015</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here I find myself in the middle of the third week of September, 22 days since my last post in August. I know time has passed and I was able to spend quality time on the North Shore of Pontchartrain over the long Labor Day weekend, yet my mind sits void. I have not felt encouraged to reflect collected thoughts with the few that do occasionally cross my blog. Why the void? Why the silence? I just don't know, actually. Maybe the season(s) of blog building and thought collections finds its pause, like myself, in the early winter months of life. I suppose I should prepare my own defined island to better secure me. Help me to accept what is real and count my blessings. After all, everything I have accomplished is nothing more than carbon prints of myself. Damn... What a mess. Hang on, now. Let me pause and look back? Maybe. Just Maybe. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Posted September 16 from my evening home </span></span><b><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b><br />
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<span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.0" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16.08px;"><span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.0.$end/=1$text0/=010"> </span></span><span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.0" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16.08px;"><span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.0.$end/=1$text0/=010"> Obviously, as I reflect upon this pictures posed question,</span></span><br />
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<span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.0" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16.08px;"><span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.0.$end/=1$text0/=010"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3m3DInY1j0Pk_bNcgz9fH5Es20qo11EJ1erGq3pI0S81bvU_0ZnYTTu8clIB5C6tx-iz-tSeLwlSX3zWQAIlzwBp9Gmh97wW7BoZp-Ssr3MIQF6PhvLLzsx0ed0E54d1ohoR12hrt0wT/s1600/kidpistol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv3m3DInY1j0Pk_bNcgz9fH5Es20qo11EJ1erGq3pI0S81bvU_0ZnYTTu8clIB5C6tx-iz-tSeLwlSX3zWQAIlzwBp9Gmh97wW7BoZp-Ssr3MIQF6PhvLLzsx0ed0E54d1ohoR12hrt0wT/s320/kidpistol.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
<span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.0" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: inherit; line-height: 16.08px;"><span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.0.$end/=1$text0/=010">maybe I did not turn out as fine as I could have. I can't help it because I'm white. Had absolutely nothing in the world to do with that but I have managed the best I could in a progressive leaning society. However, because of this thing pictured, I must confess to the three or four people that read my blog that I have killed unlimited thousands of Indians, German and Japanese </span></span><span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823;"><span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3.0.$end/=1$text0/=010"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16.08px;">soldiers. I hang my head in shame knowing there are countless other outlaw rustlers and bank robbers that fell victim to the same fate as a result of my </span></span><span style="line-height: 16.08px;">uncontrolled</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16.08px;"> childhood behavior(s) attributed to the pictured menace you see attached! It helped brainwash my desire to join and become part of the greatest Army in the World where my National Defense Service Medal is adorned with a Star! After departing military service on my initial enlistment, my flair for abnormal behavior intensified as I attended a Liberal Arts Institute of Advanced studies known as a University. It was here my abnormal thoughts actually became worse. That great Army or Green Machine I was so proud to be a part of was stripped to nothing by a peanut president so the monies once used to protect this great nation could now be used to expand social spending which almost ruined this country. As a result, I found myself giving up my "solid south" democrat voting rights and became a registered republican! See? All of this because of a pictured toy for me to be left alone to fantasize about killing people without compassion with grape cool aide stains on my lips! Did I mention these things were given me by uncaring parents that dented my ass almost weekly as to help mold my radical behavior while destroying my self-esteem? So as I ponder this picture and reflect on my childhood years playing with this </span></span><span style="line-height: 16.08px;">despicable</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 16.08px;"> toy, I somehow found Jesus as my personal savior. Seemed like I needed Him more than he needed me as I became part of the law enforcement community that spanned many years!!! So you see, as I aged, I became more and more of a social outcast. I still have a piece of paper at the local court house that says I am a registered republican, only because there is no box I can check that says I am that dreaded conservative so despised by the educated academia types! Please forgive me for being so dismantled. To this very day, I carry concealed because of my insecurities and even felt the urge to share with others why they should as well, if they desire, as a certified instructor with some National organization that built an Association around a Rifle. It matters not your perception of the question posed. I reckon I am fine, and I proudly associate myself with that group of people that proclaim "All Lives Matter!" Yet dreadfully, I exist among you as a White, Conservative, Christian, Veteran that owns Guns! What greater threat to the Government other than that, that, Dang! What is it? Oh yes, the Constitution. So, Molon Labe. I turned out Just Fine! </span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3" style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; line-height: 16.08px;"><span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4.1:5:1:$comment10207312256703045_10207312883998727/=10.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1.$comment-body.0.3.0.$end/=1$text0/=010">Posted September 17 </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;"> And the Fall Equinox is amongst us for the entire day in perfect balance as light and darkness share equal time. The Fall season is officially here. The dog days of summer are actually behind us, even though reminders of its dominance finds temperatures still palatable in the mid-90's. Now, if a quick cold front would sting us, followed by seasonal temps, then we would we see that crisp fall color we seldom see here in the south. Leaves will still prepare to desiccate regardless, from their source as an</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">other annual ring pronounces itself unseen in the trunk of the tree they nourished. Open your ears and listen. The piercing sound of a referee's whistle as it signals the end of a football play. My word, where is time? Balanced this day between equal day and equal night? Harmony, for some yet unnoticed by others. We are in the third week of football season? The gathering of the harvest nears.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">Posted September 22 from my early morning office</span><br />
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<br />Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-69865532004171935522015-08-09T21:25:00.001-05:002015-10-14T08:04:28.156-05:00Rod's Reflections for August 2015<div class="_5pbx userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">August 2015</span></strong><br />
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My
first August workday finds me still frequenting my favorite river.
Despite her accented sandbar tattoos surprisingly left by her July
flood rage, I still find her passing waters calm my soul and allow me to
emotionally and spiritually prepare for my day. I am not a Monday
through Friday person actually, as for me, everyday is a special day
that I can live and participate in the gift God gives each of us.<br />
<a class="_4-eo" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10206971712389650&set=a.2269871664643.133081.1184138126&type=1" rel="theater" style="width: 295px;"><img alt="Rod Ferguson's photo." class="scaledImageFitHeight img" height="394" src="https://scontent-lga1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpt1/v/t1.0-9/p296x100/11218809_10206971712389650_3875762003624079444_n.jpg?oh=18467e8be7c0beb5a9293ba35d922cf1&oe=56508582" style="left: 0px;" width="296" /></a></div>
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<a class="_4-eo" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10206971712389650&set=a.2269871664643.133081.1184138126&type=1" rel="theater" style="width: 295px;"></a><br />
<a class="_4-eo" href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10206971712389650&set=a.2269871664643.133081.1184138126&type=1" rel="theater" style="width: 295px;"></a>Posted August 1 from my morning River<br />
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One
more thing I forgot I loved about grand kids! Linda and I are Just 9 days into our
AT&T shared plan of 8 GB's that we never use between our two
smart phones and her tablet in any given month. So this early Sunday morning as I begin to
stir to life, I find a text from my favorite carrier telling me that I
have used 100% of my shared data and they have courteously given me an
additional gigabyte of data for $15 bucks! Bam! Another message saying <i>"that"</i> data was gone with the promise of another $15 buc<span class="text_exposed_show">ks
on the next monthly bill along with another fresh gigabyte of newer data! Before
I could even comprehend how almost 11 gigabytes could have been
"hacked" from my account, another quick "ding" notification on my text informed me that
75% of that data was gone! So here is the love I would like to share
with all of you. If you let your 9 year old grandson play games with
your iPad (thank you, Linda), you might want to teach them (grand kids) as to how to use Wi-Fi to Watch
Netflix during one of those all night stays at Maw Maw and Poppy's house! Of course he, along with the help of his
able 15-year-old cousin, managed to discover that you could watch movies
on YouTube, which unknown to us "elderly fixed income types," had no idea that You Tube Movies literally eats that 8 gigabyte plan alive! Attention: able programmers Wanted! New app that will electrically zap
any grandchild that uses my fixed income data for anything they can't find at their own parents' house. Yes... I'm still agitated to the tune of $45 extra dollars on my next bill. Grand Kids or Maw Maw, Grand Kids or Maw Maw.... Have I reminded anyone lately of my contempt for kids? Why is it that old people are getting on my nerves almost as bad???</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted August 9 from my early Sunday Morning home</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show"> I have so much fun with my grand kids every chance I get, especially the teenagers! A small band of thunder storms pushed
through Central Louisiana this afternoon breaking the sultry August heat
cycle that has been stifling us for weeks. Junior and McKenzie seem to be a
constant companion on these after church, lazy Sunday afternoons. At
5:15 PM everything electrical ceases to work in our comfortable home as a result of a power failure somewhere in the grid that serves us. I
struggled to regain consciousness after being put to sleep by satellite TV's "Undercover Boss," and walked down the hallway to my bed<span class="text_exposed_show">room
toilet to answer a simple call of nature since it was raining on my patio. Junior pipes up and asked me one of his more brilliant questions, "What happened to the electricity, Poppy?" After just two steps of my journey to my destination, I just
responded, "Maw Maw forgot to pay the electricity bill so they
turned it off until we can pay the bill tomorrow." As brain damaged as he is, the electrical storm outside never crossed his under developed mind as he breaks his neck to go tell McKenzie that the security, solitude and unlimited Wi Fi that draws them to our house in the first place, is doomed because Maw Maw did not pay the electricity bill! Did I mention it was Sunday? Yes... Yes I did, but that didn't cross his mind either... It is about this time I step into
my bathroom and actually reach up to turn on the light for my convenience. Now, who was I just talking about? I just shook my head and won't tell you what Latin word crossed my mind but, Oh my, aren't we
creatures of habit? What really gets to me, is walking away from the
toilet not bothering to flush it when it dawns on me that the toilet
is not part of the electrical system?? That folks, is aging brain
damage. Yes, I stepped back in and flushed the damn thing! Anyway, I encouraged Linda into getting up from her nap pretty easily because our ever alert alarm system, Junior, woke her up to tell her the electricity was off. I suggested that she and I go somewhere and have a light dinner together. By this time Junior and
McKenzie, both upset that our electricity has been disconnected, are
wondering why we are leaving them there alone. I appease them by setting
out a couple of scented candles to compensate for the growing darkness and to make them as happy as possible. I also remind them they may want to contact</span></span><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show"> their mama on their I-pads, Y-pads or cell phones </span></span>to come pick them up before the battery back up on my Wi-Fi runs down and their world turns pre-historic. In the meantime, Raisin Canes over in Alexandria is on
my radar scope. This is a chicken strip kind of day.<br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">Posted August 16 from my late Sunday afternoon home </span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show"> And as my morning begins, I find I am simply joining the masses of
others already under tow. The task of participation. Task of
participation? I sat up this morning and Thanked God for this day. I
ached not in my body or soul. Yes, there are those that could not sleep
because of whatever reason that torments their mind. The new Widow and
her 9 year old son of our slain Trooper in Lake Charles? Those sitting
patiently beside an aging loved one waiting for them to pass. Even<span class="text_exposed_show">
also among those I know are those that will put down a beloved pet that
has comforted them for years. Does not matter if they make the right
decision, the hurt is still there. Yet for the majority of the masses,
most of our day is yet to be defined. My tow is miles behind me down
river yet she will return. Laden with coal to furnish electricity that
keeps me cool this time of the year and supplies me with light as to
comprehend my daily challenges. I yield to a greater authority knowing I
am His. That also comforts my soul.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">Posted August 25 from my morning River side </span></span></span><br />
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R<span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">eflecting through the pages of my blog, I go all the way back to the
month of May and find even then my river was at a bowling fast track
pace as spring rains throughout her collective basin was making an
obvious difference in her rise and temperament. It took a couple of
months but eventually she reached new levels of flood stage records in
this century setting many along her path at various stages of alarm.
Today is the first time I have pulled beside her shores and could<span class="text_exposed_show">
see the reflection of Alexandria's taller buildings and landscape
glimmering softly in her much slower run. I wonder if one of her locks
are closed up river? Almost time for man to pool her between locks.
Then her waters loose the red tint and become a bluish green reflection
of peace and solitude as sediments settle to the bottom. It is during
these early morning visits that her surface looks like she is covered in
black ice. That is when she is most beautiful to me. But it will be a
couple of more weeks before she makes peace with her past summers raging
floodwaters. Maybe then she can provide comfort to herself and those
she loves as she settles in to her redefined shorelines establishing
peace within her soul and those that look to her for nurture, solace and
life. My river. Sometimes I wonder if when that time intersects, if
what is left of what I once existed within, could In fact be poured into
her depths to consummate this affair with her I seem to not be able to
end. And a crisp, hint of fall, beautiful day beckons me!</span></span></span></span><br />
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Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-82167109440866837592015-07-02T23:30:00.003-05:002015-08-02T08:54:10.905-05:00Rod's Reflections for July 2015<span style="font-size: large;"><b>JULY</b></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;"> Think I will start my 4th of July holiday with my cousin Al on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain! Gotta stop at Bass Pro Shop outside of Baton Rouge in a few minutes. Yes, yes, I am aware of threats made by ISIS. I am packing "Preparation H" for the possibility of such minor flare ups! Some of my followers commented that they found my post funny, obviously appreciating my attempt at humor. Another one of my more extreme right leaning friends came right out and asked me if I was going to support "that racist flag" over the 4th of July holiday I intended to celebrate? As his comment came across my facebook post, I died laughing at his question because unknown to him, I was actually standing in the Bass Pro Shop, with my eyes absorbing the very subject of his radical prodding! It actually helped make up my mind to go "all out" and do exactly that. I sent him a picture of my desire and told him he could bet his ass that I certainly was! I found my preferred size, took it off the shelf and after a quick debate of properly displaying said racist flag, I felt since the SCOTUS could re-write the constitution, I could chose to define how I wanted to display said object. Besides, I would simply find it entertaining for someone to throw me on the ground with the intentions of stomping on this bad, bad boy! In fact I just might give up a little leaking to convince whomever their efforts were not in vain. Eventually at some point in time they would understand I felt myself to be in danger of great bodily harm or possible death and respond like wise to their poorly and so ignorant choice of assaulting something I hold most dear! </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;">Posted July 1 </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;"> Wide awake in the predawn hours of July 2nd as I stare at my dimmed iPhone's screen in the dark third story bedroom of my cousin's home on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain. I have been awake for the last couple of hours for no apparent reason other than sleep avoids me. I have skimmed through posts I've collected on my blog from months past as stormy winds off this massive lake whistle with various levels of intensity against the window of my elevated room. Even though I focus </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;">on the dimmed screen of my phone, I can see the occasional flash of lightening through the window out of the corner of my eye off to the southwest! It is way out over the Gulf of Mexico, maybe? I check my Storm app and sure enough, a massive heat storm exists! I can't help but think of the disturbed waters beneath the fury of that intense storm! I recall the loss of my friend Chris, off Dauphin Island as a similar storm swept him from his sailboat just a short time ago this past spring. Dauphin Island and more memories of similar loss stir as the wind begins to pepper rain against the window of that third story bedroom that harbors the fragmented thoughts I try to put into words. What is it that pulls me to this beautiful place here on the North Shore? Of course it is the fellowship of my widowed cousin, the closest thing to a brother I will ever have. I asked him just hours ago as we sat on his second story balcony if he had seen that Eagle he told me about recently? He had in fact, and added there were actually two now! My thoughts went to my Southwest Florida Eagle cam that an acquaintance on facebook introduced me to a couple of years back. I have viewed the last couple of seasons where I was able to watch a mating </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;">pair of Bald Eagles, Ozzie and Harriet raise two of four </span><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3099994659424px;">hatch-lings</span><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;"> to </span><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3099994659424px;">fledgling Eaglets</span><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;">. Seems right before Egg number six or E-6 was to leave the nest, Ole Ozzie found himself recovering in a wildlife rehab center after breaking a wing following an unfortunate encounter with a vehicle's bumper! Watchers of the eagle cam are now wondering since Ozzie has been released, if he and Harriet will re-unite? Rumor has it she has found another Beau! Kindrid spirits on the webcam's blog and facebook page refer to him as FV, a synonym for Frequent Visitor! I mean seriously, Rumor? Didn't take Harriet long to sort of "gravitate" to his sense of humor in Ozzie's </span><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3099994659424px;">absence</span><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;">. She had no choice if truth be known. It is good that nature provides for bonding without the ache of loss. It is so easy to be forgotten, isn't it? So very similar to real life yet that is nature at its best. Survival of the fittest, as those we care about the most struggle to find a place where they can never be taken from us again? I think I will let that dog sleep, while in the meantime, It has fallen silent outside of my temporary bedroom window now. It is not long before the sunrise I so much enjoy watching here over a cup of hot Community dark roast coffee. Sunrise, just a scant :45 minutes away. What to do? My eyes are getting heavy and yet my nerve damaged feet urge me to get up and go downstairs. I am on vacation! After all, it is the beginning of a long 4th of July week and weekend. I can sleep later.</span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;">Posted in the Early Morning hours of July 2</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;"><br /></span>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;"><span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> On the rare occasion my youngest daughter asks Linda to baby sit her four children while she and her husband go eat and maybe take in a movie, I search for the opportunity to seize upon any given moment to imprint the minds of these children left to my attention, love, care and protection. Ashton, the oldest child at 9, amuses himself and doesn't hesitate telling me he will be a teenager in just four more years! Now, Katie is 6 and Gabby is 3, soon to turn 4 in October. Little Garret Ferret just turned 1, so he hangs onto the side of his soft bar holding-cell we call a playpen a</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">nd observes in usually, general silence, the common interaction of sibling activity in this strange environment known as Maw Maw and Poppy's house. Now to me, the key to my peaceful existence, is to entertain the kids in my part of the house<b> <i>less</i></b> than they entertain themselves in Linda's part of the house! You see, I know the two girls are bored and miss their mommy really bad! I can only get so much sugar before those two girls alone become more demanding of food, more hugs, endless questions, picture taking, basic meddling or whatever they can find to aggravate. :I have one method that usually works a couple of times! I suddenly sit up and ask, "Is that mommy down there?" In a flash it begins! There is a mad dash as they run to the door located in Linda's end of the house to see if mommy is actually there! That gives me a short reprieve before they eventually gravitate back to my domiciliary area where they find another activity that chips away at the personality of my aging patience. They begin to spin the chair, pester poor Meggie who is simply trying to bide time beside me in short cat naps before being terrorized once again by one or both of those sweet (dear lord) girls of whom both think, my sweet cat is taffy!</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUCTrlt_asQBid-VcNwqqZAS4GlGMPb5sAix2pjTAIcrBupxZmLcY7Zp1iZdrqphmo_7l_vvDbOg8Nf4Q6yOTEyHzO6LxUYnUVk1WIw0vwbOlR7e44v2zjNSRC976dW79_0G9JU2WmGX2Y/s1600/image1+%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUCTrlt_asQBid-VcNwqqZAS4GlGMPb5sAix2pjTAIcrBupxZmLcY7Zp1iZdrqphmo_7l_vvDbOg8Nf4Q6yOTEyHzO6LxUYnUVk1WIw0vwbOlR7e44v2zjNSRC976dW79_0G9JU2WmGX2Y/s200/image1+%25281%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"></span></span></div>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> I have found that one question asked, and my one answer back to them, is enough to make them wander back into Linda's world in a state of trance like wonder, that if what I said could possibly be remotely true!! I simply get both of their short attention spans to pay attention to me and make the comment, "I guess your mommy was telling Poppy the truth." Both look at me in confused wonder and l continue... "Yaw do know you live here now. Mommy gave yaw to me and Maw Maw!" Their eyes widen, and Gabby looks at Katie, the oldest, to see if what she thought I said was really what her three and a half year old mind, actually heard! Recognizing the possible horrible realization of the truth, <i>yes, she did hear that correctly</i>, on her Oldest sister's face, she remains silent and falls in behind Katie as they slowly make their way back into Linda's part of the house. I smile at myself knowing exactly what is happening down there. Linda and I are both winners. Katie slowly crawls onto the couch with Gabby climbing up to sit right beside her. Gabby, still depending on Katie's advanced age to confirm communication, just looks around waiting while Katie is actually too afraid to ask Maw Maw if her Mommy actually did give them away. Sitting there smugly smiling at myself, it dawns on me as they left for the other pasture, my cat was missing. My gosh! How do they do that? Things brightened up in their world in the next few minutes as I heard their mommy's voice from the far end of the house. I know they are relieved. I think I'll go down there and tell them its bed time as to reinforce the possibility of truth just to watch the horror cross their sweet eyes at the shear possibility of reality... Independence Day will soon arrive here at my late Sunday afternoon home! </span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><span style="line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> Well, it took long enough, but I finally upgraded to the iPhone 6S today. I was not enticed by the new enhancements of said adult necessity but simply because my companion of almost 4 years, my iPhone 4S, simply gave up the spirit. Everything functioned well up to the last moments of this durable toy that became a mainstay companion despite finding the bottom of my "being used" toilet. Yup, I snatched that bad boy from the ceramic bottom it fell victim to before the poor thing even knew it was wet! All in mid stream perpetual motion! I immediately pampered its entire exterior with a soft towel and put her to sleep in a baggy of white rice. A very restful night eventually passed as I pull her out of the baggy, poured the rice back into the container it came from and held my breath as I turned it on! That white apple appeared against the dark screen and there she was! She totally had forgiven me for that silly mishap. Same phone now, some few months later in the summer of 2012. My wife talked me into working the concession stand at some Dixie Youth Baseball Park for an entire season! During one of our "change the cooking oil" that everything is fried in at your typical ball park setting, I leaned over to stop the drain of cold used cooking oil into a five gallon bucket when guess what happened! My treasured iPhone 4S sought the bottom of said bucket of cold, dirty cooking oil. My affection and need for her found me rescuing her and again pampering her once again for a return to normal. It took a while, but after an entire can of compressed air cleaning, she returned to a semi normal operational mode that lasted until today! Everything was normal except for the fact that when I called or was called by anyone, I could hear them fine, but they were denied the conversation with me. I took my constant companion of 4 years to Apple Pie, an iPhone rehab and repair center hoping it might be a simple fix? As the technician entered the forbidden treasure of her operational secrets, he smiled as he noticed the grease that watermarked her three years ago. He shook his head after a few probing questions and told me her useful days as a functioning companion had reached a saturation point. To me it was a death sentence. It was her microphone that was attached to something similar to a motherboard?? I was somewhat saddened that she chose to put me on another path of destiny with another iPhone, but as electronics go, she could no longer function to satisfy me needs... I had no choice. The memories we made I will hold forever in my mind an heart because of her? How I wish she could have stayed with me. Just this very day I dressed her in a brand new case complete with a carbon print flygrip stuck on the back! Stop!!! It is over... Carry me with you until, she muttered, as I struggled to text friends and family of her demise... I wrestled with just the 5S but with her encouragement, I settled on the 6S. A slow motion camera? I think she approves. As I finish this last refrain in memory of her, I am restoring her soul into my new Rodney's Iphone from backup that existed in some iCloud location. If it is successful, I will take my 4S into my hands one last time, find the box she came to me in, and restore everything in her back to default. Her memory of me will be gone forever but she will remain part of me until I am restored to my default setting somewhere down my traveled roads. Until then, I just hope I can adjust to Ms. iPhone 6S. I so hope she is not temperamental and has the hold up power my baby 4S had all these years...</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; display: inline;"><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> The second full moon of the final day of July will present itself tonight as what we commonly refer to as a blue moon. Usually I am drawn to such specticals of celestial Divine programmed diversity</span></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> but tonight I find myself some what puny and already in bed for what I hope is a peaceful night. Yes, that full moon. Since the early days of my youth I have been drawn to sit and gaze at her climb into the dark night she so dominated. I know it is unseasonable</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> now at the end of this sultry July, but nothing intrigues me more than an ice covered twig of any defoliated tree. Very seldom does that phenomenon occur here in our Louisiana, but when it does, I have taken the time to discover the moon can reveal a rainbow in that glazed over, clear icy cover that protects the coming springs bloom in a 32° blanket of controlled comfort. So, as expected, after a little time of increased suspense, the magnet of my affection drew me from the protected covers of my bed to my patio clad only in my leather flip flops and new boxer brief drawers! There she silently smiled upon me in the East South East Sky, rewarding my efforts as she was bathed in a total aura of Rainbow Colors! In awe I stood there gazing upon her beauty. Not one pulse of contrite remorse saddened my heart, instead I called to Linda and Kbear to view what I was seeing!! They eventually made their way outside and glanced at what most people take for granted and walked back into the house. My wife casually responded it was my new glasses that was seeing a rainbow because she didn't see nothing! I flung the covers off once again, and pounced back onto my patio again focusing my attention on what I clearly viewed as a moonbow! I see color! Snatch off my new glasses and I still see color! I tell them both they are crazy that I can see a rainbow around my moon with and without glasses! Linda keeps walking dismissing my rant as early stages of dementia. Kbear, out of respect, returns to my side. In soft pleading words, I again implore her to tell me if she cannot see my rainbow? She looked and finally agreed there was color. Black and white are colors, I implored, I can see blue, yellow and red. Can't you? Probably more to appease me, she agreed color was there. Looking back at my rainbow encased blue moon, she reminded me of the saying that beauty is far deeper that the visual skin. Neither of those two would brave the cold winter night to hold in their fingers the tip or twig end of a deciduous tree limb that is encased in ice for me to reveal a rainbow unto them. Knowing that, how could you ever expect them to share the intricate secrets you and I share together when all you have to do is seek Me? I walked to my bed and returned to the protection of my covers wondering, Why do I not seek more often? I passed effortlessly into man's programmed diversity called August. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Posted July 31 from my late evening home</span><span style="background-color: #f6f7f8; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16.0799999237061px;"> </span>Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-77733273623266880312015-06-03T19:50:00.001-05:002015-07-05T22:49:27.378-05:00Rod's Reflections for June 2015<strong><span style="font-size: large;">June</span></strong><br />
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I found myself this morning sitting by my river with the intent of posting what is revealed below. After gleaning through some of the posts to my news feed, I started writing away on my iPhone one letter at a time... I checked it a couple of times for grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc, and then posted it. And never found it! It was gone. Had I deleted it?? Did Facebook eat it?? Could not figure it out but I knew I had scant minutes to drive to the VA Hospital for a blood test at 7am, so I just let it go. Somehow I had deleted my first blog entry for June and just did not have the time to redo it. Then I get a message from my friend, Carolyn Gresham, around 2 pm this afternoon! Seems my Facebook surfing ended with the last post on my news feed by Carolyn. It appears that instead of clicking on "Status," I must have clicked on "comment" for she found my morning river post, attached as a comment to her post that I had last read. Later in the day, she posted this to my wall:<br />
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Hey Rod, here is your lost morning river post: "What tumultuous dreams rolled through my resting mind this dark, predawn morning!! A disturbance not encountered in weeks gone by, yet repetitive in its annoying persistence! I actually have concerns of these types of dreams but fall short of dwelling there, so I dressed and hastened to my river! There she raged in the early morning light as I pulled up beside her! Last night, while I was resting, she was wide awake and angry in her real time world. A full moon encouraged her angry run to her destination as her flood stage waters threatens the entire Red River <span class="text_exposed_show">basin with economic ruin. I guess her drumming in my dream tossed sleep was evident as I sat here beside her this morning. She told me clearly, 'I have 6, maybe 7 more feet to rise before I am through.' And maybe the message I wrestled with last night in my dreams was anticipated. She continued, 'I will return to normal, but when I do, the results of my anger will be obvious to those that matter. Yet understand, despite the hurt of corrections I will for myself along my path, you will be made stronger from my temperamental rage, as time will heal the wounds inflicted for the better.' " </span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Nice post by the way, Ferguson. Strange how the mind goes in your sleep to what is truly of concern to you. There is beauty in the angry rushing water of your river. You are not the only one preoccupied with her state of being these days. Lots of on-lookers at her downtown edges.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted June 3 from my morning river</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823;"><span style="font-family: helvetica, arial, lucida grande, sans-serif; line-height: 19.31px;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"> </span> </span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.31px;">1st dive in the new lined pool by my KBear* and two things happened: 1. Overcome with excitement she hits the very cold swimming pool water with her glasses still on! They go to the bottom of course, 2. The entire neighborhood within a half mile radius immediately knew the water was not "just right" and the Ferguson Pool was now open! She and Junior* were so proud they were the first ones in my repaired and functioning swimming pool for the 2015 season. You know, bragging rights with the other grand kids? I just didn't have the heart to tell them, Meggie opened the pool yesterday after a gentle nudge from her loving Master! Yes, you must remember that this sweet feline's sole existence upon this earth is for my pleasure! I was so proud of her for this being the first time she ever went swimming or had ever been wet! Even though I was calling her back, she strongly swam to the gentle bend of the oval shaped pool and "cat paddled" very aptly for a first time swimmer the entire circumference of the pool. A totally complete lap while mewing her discontent or surprise without the first mew of profanity! When she passed by me on her frantic swim to where ever she thought she was going, I grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and pulled her out of the cold water! The look I got from her was, "OMG! What just happened?" I've seen that look before when younger, brain damaged grand kids would "fall" into that pool from that same "gentle nudge." It was funny. She rapidly departed the swimming pool's ledge I placed her on to roll on the warm patio concrete as to displace this "wet stuff" she was experiencing. Yes, it took a while for the attitude to pass. I did notice, but come bedtime, the Temptation Treats I give her before bed, allowed her </span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #141823;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 19.31px;">forgiveness mode to become more tolerant of me. Besides, she knows there is no better place in the world than being curled up in the small of my back under the covers! Sweet cat! </span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="line-height: 19.31px;">* Oldest Grand Daughter, Mckinzi and Grandson, Kennard, Jr., I often refer to as KBear and Jay Bird.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823;"><span style="line-height: 19.31px;">Posted June 4 from my afternoon glider on my patio</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Times;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;"> It's 0520 on Wednesday morning. On most days you would find me 20 minutes into my :45 to 1 hour, 4.5 mph fitness stroll on my favorite treadmill at Louisiana College Health Club, awkwardly </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Times New Roman;">channel surfing between the SEC cable station, Fox News and our Local morning news. This breaks the boredom of stationary walking. Instead of the usual morning exercise ritual, this 0430 beginning finds my head filled with thoughts of my </span></span>temperamental<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Times;"> river , almost like I am being summoned. This affair, which began years ago, once again wins over my health sustaining regime and I find myself sitting beside her fast racing flood waters as the breaking dawn slowly brings color to m</span><span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Times;">y surrounding landscape. My morning sounds accompany me, as usual, yet I sit here staring in a spellbound like grip of wonder at the awesome flow of my River as she races to dissipate excessive rainfall that is still collecting in her massive basin. I have described her many times as angry in past cogitated descriptions but for some reason the only word that seems to fit her on this early morning visit seems to be </span><b style="color: #141823; font-family: Times;"><i>desperate</i></b><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Times;">. As the progressing daylight </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Times;">reveals</span><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="color: black;"> more of her flaunting aggressive state, I try to reason why she has lost the red silty color that normally taints her personality when man made locks and dams along her path exercise her temperament? Maybe just maybe she is intent on proving an age old point that many of us stumble upon. Yes, possibly exactly that! Her life giving waters and food she </span><span style="color: #141823;">generously provides because of her divine nature is just taken for granted and not appreciated! Do we ever take the time to praise her, thank her or acknowledge the unlimited bounty she provides us? Is it possible that </span><span style="color: #141823;">she just wants to be recognized by so many of us that usually take advantage of her. Is this just what they are doing? Here in this present state of uncontrolled rage, it is difficult to navigate her waters as tugs and barges laden with coal struggle up river against her aggressive output while even the most seasoned Captains <i>stress</i> to maintain control of empty tows as the river alone paces their speed beyond what is safe for them as they move downstream. The commercial fisherman is absent from his pre-dawn angling. Imagine that. Who could control an aluminum Jon boat and run a trout line in this? Live stock is being </span>re-positioned by concerned farmers all<span style="color: black;"> along her rising rage as to protect them from becoming victims of her flood stage antics. And who more than the patient planter, also dependent upon her to sustain his summer bounty, agonizes the delay in days lost as that growth period for economic returns the fall season brings is still in his barn in seed form yet planted? Yes, just possibly every </span><span style="color: #141823;">brace</span><span style="color: #141823;"><span style="color: black;"> of decades or so, she needs to flex her strength to remind those who selfishly take advantage of her, that we need to respect her life giving gifts she alone provides despite </span>mankind's<span style="color: black;"> planned attempts to control her. Have we even thought about the recreational loss of those that gather on her banks every year to enjoy family, friends and fellowship? Not this season! No ski boats with skiers or those towed black inner tubes of people frantically screaming "slowdown" before being tossed into her cooling waters or the smell of </span></span>barbecue wafting across her expanse. I'm sure when she allows those people to return, they too might be more appreciative of her pooled, docile existence. I must smile as I try to dwell in my river's mind, the thought that even the Louisiana National Guard has been called up to assist in whatever temper tantrums her rising waters might incite. She is obviously angry to many, scary to a growing number of people and held in a state of consternation in the conscious awareness of countless others. Am I collecting a faint repose from her that she is now somewhat <b><i>desperate</i></b></span></span><span style="font-family: Times;"> to finish what is happening with her uncontrolled decent to again becoming more submissive to management by man. I strongly feel she hears my thoughts as I recall my 0445 departure from home, the distant light of arching static from gathering clouds. Again rain in recognized proportions is gathering in your basin, I tell her. My message seems unimportant as if she knows something I can't possibly comprehend. Maybe this is why I sensed earlier she was desperate? Does she know what I know not, and does she hasten to correct a more serious reckoning? I love this place. And my affair with my river continues. So many times in her arrogance or distant silence, I miss her pooled waters so. Despite my love and affection for her, I would never build my home or stake my future on her side of the levy. Trust, once destroyed, is gone forever.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> I do not sit before the drive by cable news networks or waste my time with the main stream news media. Breaking news usually reaches me through Fox News Alerts on my cell phone and from there I piece together the facts as they are revealed through everything from Facebook post to new clips posted on that social media by Fox and sometimes other news outlets I deem reliable! In doing this, I stumbled across Senator Tim Scott on a couple of different interviewed segments with Fox News Megyn Kelly. Here in my State of Louisiana, almost half a continent away from South Carolina, I found Senator Scott's demeanor, tone and deep humility deeply impacted the calloused attitude I had conditioned myself for in anticipation of the "oh boy, we have another white boy" we can smear. I did not take the time to post those interviews here. It was not necessary for me to do so... I just admire and respect this man for addressing the concerns of the people of his representative State while not pointing one finger at anything other than the need to heal as "one family" from this God forsaken act and disregard of human life. Here is my Post:</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> <i> South Carolina</i>, I applaud you for Senator Tim Scott! With this tragedy rippling across our country, his voice of calm reflection and reason resonates in the hearts of reasonable men and women across all racial and demographic borders with the wisdom of a true leader. And to compliment him are his constituents all across <i>South Carolina</i>, the very people that knew this job sought the man and elected him to represent them with integrity! The people of Charleston have united together as a family to mourn this act of insanity. As we speak, no outside agitators have arrived and the news medias attempts to spin the truth has fallen short of its purpose to divide. All of you in the Great State of <i>South Carolina</i>, especially those grieving together in Charleston, are proof the heartbeat of the America I grew up in can still be felt across this Nation!</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Posted June 20</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> The longest day has ended here on my patio. Darkness has embraced the remaining hours of the summer solstice. Tomorrow's day length will be less that today's and the race to the Fall equinox has begun! We will soon yearn for Fall temperatures as the heat of Summer will dominate her appointed time as we exist through her extremes. In the mean time, we are programmed to continue on, oblivious to the unknown while recovering from our last setback whether it affected us directly or not! There in the distance, the hoot of an owl blending naturally with my choral ensemble of amphibians and chirping insects as they dominate the sound of darkness. It was a good day for me, I think, and not one grand child made noise in my perfectly clean and vacuumed pool!</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> My dearest Northern Conservative commented, "The lovely South... Well said, Rod", and before I responded, she private messaged me and said the kindest thing. Your words make pictures. Keep writing! Yes, my ego seemed to eat that up. Not many comments anymore, but I still continue to collect my thoughts and share them. I responded on my facebook to her original comment with the private message in mind. Yes, Suzanne, there is a beauty that accompanies every season, experienced in all of our senses. Sight, hearing, smell and, and whatever. Those too! I simply regress most of the time.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">Posted June 21 from my late afternoon patio</span></span></span>Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-49860336170854896982015-04-02T20:37:00.002-05:002015-06-01T15:22:26.683-05:00Rod's Reflections for April & May 2015<strong><span style="font-size: large;">April & May</span></strong><strong><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></strong><br />
April 1, or April Fool's Day is my baby sister, Nona Lee's birthday! This year, she hit the big 60! She must have gotten the better "gene" package from mom and dad because she is still a good looking heifer! Some one posted a picture of her holding a glass of wine with the number 60 beside her and I just had to weigh in and wish her special Happy Birthday. It went like this:<br />
Well lil sis, you made it to your 7th decade! Well, let me tell ya bout it since I've been here for 4 years and 3 months! Ain't nothing to it, girl! I have found that my affection for my cat is more time efficient than wasting time with most people. Look at Emmy Lou and you will understand what I am telling you. I can actually have stimulating and constructive conversation with both of my cat's as long as I let them go outside to take care of their business first and treat them with some "Temptation" cat snacks. Now, lots of people might think you a bit strange for doing that, but if you look into your pets eyes when you talk to them, don't tell me that they don't know exactly wha<span class="text_exposed_show">t you are saying to them and know also of whom you are talking about! Am I correct here?? So embrace your pets and try your best to tolerate people that aren't mentally adept at communicating with you on that "special level!" Now, here is something else I need to caution you about. Because you share the same DNA as you other siblings, you will have this uncontrolled desire to snatch up cute little kids we refer to as grand children, great nieces or nephews and kiss on them! You cannot help yourself and the older you get, the worse this affliction will affect you. Just embrace it because it is fun. However, let me caution you about the repercussions of such actions on your part. You must KNOW that if these children are 5 years of age or less, every last one of them are virus drones. You will get sick from what ever crap you encounter on their sweet faces. They have been sucking snot for so long, what ever disease you capture disguised as "sugar," they are immune to. Just enjoy it anyway, because in my case I will be puking in a couple of days after said encounter and I know my commode will get cleaned well before I become intimate with it! Oh yes, exercise! As much as I hate this, I do manage to walk 15 to 20 miles a week on a treadmill or at our local High School track. Yes, it may seem to be a waste of time but I have found that if I walk faster I get it over with much quicker and wonder why I ache in places I never think about the rest of the day. Now, I can't help but caution you about your political identity. By 60, it has pretty much become fixed in your mindset of who and what you are and you really don't give a rat intercourse what anyone else thinks! Nothing is going to change the way you feel so try to avoid those of opposite beliefs. Why? Because like me, you carry concealed and pretty much don't need to be tempted in eradicating blight that exists in human form. I have found that my major news source is now facebook instead of Fox News or other major networks' propaganda. I do not know what I enjoy more, listening to or looking at Megyn Kelly, but I certainly enjoy her program! I don't drool on myself near as much as I once did when watching her program unless I'm sipping crown on the rocks. And last, baby sister, I would be remiss if I neglected to mention sects in this decade of life. I vaguely recall the word having an x in it, but do not worry about that either. Here is a reality. Oral sects is not as bad as what you may have heard! It is far more fun to talk about it than expend the time and energy trying to recall what it was we once enjoyed!! Anyway, happy birthday and try your best to keep your teeth. So far, all of us in the original family pod has managed to keep em... Except Mom and Dad! Oh crap... I still love you more than any baby sister I have.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted April 1 around 0645 from my river on a Group MMS consisting of 9 people, 6 of whom I did not know. Only one other person posted. Who is this??? lmao</span><br />
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I never miss the opportunity to impress my grandkids with how bad their Poppy is. I was picking at Ashton and Kinzi a few months back and asked them if they wanted to give me my insulin shot! Of course both got squeamish and decided to bow out politely. As they stood there watching me, I adjusted the amount of insulin I needed and suddenly stabbed it into the side of my neck complete with the screaming and wincing like I was in extreme pain! What I didn't realize at first was I had accidentally hit my jug<span class="text_exposed_show">gler vein with the thin insulin needle and a couple of heartbeats of very thin blood spurted on the bathroom mirror I was standing in front of!! Mckinzi stepped back, covered her mouth and screamed in horror as Ashton started crying and ran out of the bathroom screaming for Maw maw!! I was laughing so hard I could barely see but also shocked at what I had just managed to do! Needless to say, it scared the crap out of me too, until I realized a good pull of toilet tissue along with direct pressure would stop it. After all an insulin needle is a touch on the small side. I laughed at those kids so hard it cramped my stomach! To this day, every time I mention the word "shot," grandkids scatter from my presence in rapid haste in fear of Poppy's unknown humor. Oh yes, all of them heard some version of what actually happened when Poppy got a shot and I can't help myself, but every time I hear that one of them are going to the doctor, I tell them they are going to get a shot. It really aggravates my daughters... Yes, I posted this on facebook and have enjoyed EVERY comment. I just didn't have the heart to tell those who "bit," the truth behind this post. Only here on my blog, which no one actually visits, will the truth be known. Please notice the <strong><em>date of this post! </em></strong>Sometimes I kill myself!</span><br />
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Posted April Fools Day at 10:15 pm from my bed.<br />
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66° at 6:15 PM on the 10th day of April as I sit on my patio below cloudy skies. Meggie is 25' up in my Golden Rain Tree as Peggy sits on the sidewalk below her watching in amazement. The soft coo of a mourning dove, mocking voice of my mockingbird, along with the sounds of countless other birds I simply can't identify. Ah yes, and that familiar call of a field lark along with the pounding hammer of some peckerwood as he pounds away for some unknown insect that will unsuspectedly become part of his evening Buffett. The bark of a family dog and the happy shrill of some child in some distant yard adds to the color of George Tabor, Red Ruffle and Purple Formosa Azalea's displayed in full bloom. Well I'll be, it is the staccato whistle of the bright red male Cardinal I can identify as I watch him make his presence known on a lower limb of my giant long leaf pine. Kbear and Junior wanted to spend the night and have already asked me, "what's for supper, Poppy?" I smile as a distant Harley runs through it gears and the dull thud of a dribbled basketball reverberates through the neighborhood from the cul-de-sac as resident kids take advantage of daylight savings time. Maybe Ramen noodles? Let them serve me tonight! And my neighbors pinned foxhounds joins the cacophony of afternoon sounds until their needs are met as an airline passes high overhead from Atlanta to Houston. You know what I find strange? Not one sound of amphibian dominance is coming from the freshly rained wetlands behind my house. Yet here is that stinking mosquito reminding me that my blood could be the strawberry mix of some frogs feast of him after his successful feast upon me? Laughing!! There! I know that bird, too. The arrogant noise of a Blue Jay finally adds to the choral majesty of nature. I miss you, Diane and all three of your girls are still as beautiful as I remember you.<br />
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Posted April 10 from my afternoon patio<br />
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Awakened on the north shore at 5:15 this morning, drank coffee and ate a raisin bread peanut butter sandwich. Merged into New Orleans traffic as I crossed lake Pontchartrain onto I-10 from Slidell at 6:20 am. Early morning at New Orleans City Park at 6:55. Peaceful, just like my morning river, yet with subtle differences. What pleased me as I parked next to the Twin Sisters Pavilion where I am attending an arborist seminar, was my mockingbird welcoming me. Didn't know he<span class="text_exposed_show"> could fly so far so fast? And other observable differences down here? Sea gulls. Many of them! Cadence in the park? Not like early morning military bases I've experienced in past history, yet cadence still? Could be a police academy?? Not sure. But similar still to my spot at my river and audible through the canopy of the existing urban forest is the sound of high speed traffic from I-610W. It is cloudy and muggy here as the parking lot I found an hour earlier begins to fill. Let me engage my day. Seminar discussion: Care and Preservation of Tree Canopy in the Urban Landscape. I actually enjoy these educational gatherings as the information disseminated, properly applied over time, could actually benefit the urban forest.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">P</span><span class="text_exposed_show">osted April 15 from a parking lot in New Orleans City Park</span><br />
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Posted April 15 from New Orleans City park on my lunch break<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>May</b></span><br />
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It was the fresh, crisp 55° morning air I noticed as I stepped from my residence this morning at 3:45. As I stepped from under the carport to walk to my car, I was bathed in the soft light of a May 1st, three-quarter moon!<span class="text_exposed_show"> I watched as my shadow preceded me to my dew covered city vehicle while the distant bark of a dog is the only sound I could hear. Why so early? Restless dreams. One of those that wake you up and take you to the bathroom and when you return to bed, close your eyes, drift off to sleep, you pick back up where you left off? Yup. One of those. And after I awaken the third or fourth time, the deep restful snores from my spouse and the soft purr from my cat found me laying there wide awake, feeling the call of my river. And it is here I find myself as I pull along side of her, roll down my window to collect the comforting repose of my mockingbird across the river? Urban lighting and the bright moon must have stirred a recurring dream in his mind causing his early morning stir. She is dark, reflective, and moving fast this morning. That moon that welcomed me into 2015's May 1st is an orange ball almost gone and with the ending period of this sentence, is gone below the western horizon until tonight. It is now 4:48. My debate? Should I go to the gym where my day usually starts or stay right here until 5:30 when McDonald's opens? I look at my river once again and her pace remains the same. Maybe she wants to say something? I should be quiet now and listen as the light illuminating my majestic flag reveals a bat circling in search breakfast. Or would that be his supper? I must now cogitate.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted May 1 from my early morning river.</span><br />
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I use a weather app called Storm. It is a freebie, of course, but premium enhancements are available if I so desire! Anyway, as I sit beside my river this morning on a very gray overcast, 99% humidity morning, I notice my River level is down 5 feet or more from previous weeks. She is still running fast, yet I have wondered why they, the Army Corp of Engineers, haven't slowed her down by closing her locks? Meddling in the future on my Storm weather app, I discover 90% rainfall and thunderstorms everyday starting the Monday after Mother's Day through the following Sunday! Seven days of heavy rain! Well, except for one day. It said possible thunderstorms with an 80% chance of rain across the coverage area. Maybe the Corp wants the water out of this basin? Go figure. I have engaged this day! Let's go folkses. Let someone know you are here today!<br />
P.S. I must be getting desperate for blog post to drag something like this to my blog! Reckon I have found another one of those low periods in my life. Can't help but wonder what causes that?<br />
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Posted May 8 from my river<br />
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I can't help but be amazed at the things that cross my mind as I walk the track of this high school. It was just 15 years ago this month that my oldest son celebrated his graduation from the football field it circles. 15 years. So long ago, but yet, only yesterday. I remember the principal telling the gathered crowd the plans of each graduate. Some had scholarships to different colleges and universities. A promising future projected for their goals and ambitions. My son was announced along with the others like him as being somewhat less fortunate in their choice of future pursuits. Something like United States Armed Forces military service pursuits?? Not really sure, but still something along those lines. That was all 15 years ago. And now as I walk these laps, I can reflect on what he has accomplished because I have time with nothing else to do as I walk?? Okay, let me see. A couple of Associate of Arts degrees from the Air Force Community College for a start. Then there is that honorary Bachelor of Science degree in Physical Fitness and Advance Life Saving earned through combat deployments to Iraq, Afghanistan, and other places known to just a few of us. During these deployments he exceeded the credits needed for that Masters Degree in Social Sciences as he learned how to "make peace" in different parts of the world in cultures and religions so different than ours as to provide a path that someone with far less experience could try and apply the philosophies they learned in some liberal institution in order to keep or manage the peace people like my son forged through armed conflict. Yes. I'm still walking and circling the field where his dreams are rooted. While doing so I recognize in my own mind<br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">that he has more than honorably earned his Doctorate degree in Conservative Justice from nine visits into a peace forging management field to further his studies. There his unwritten thesis revolved around the art of modern warfare, family management as his family grew up in his absence, how to council and console the families of his personal friends lost in the early summer of their life as the surviving spouse and children were left to re-calibrated there broken dreams. I am certain this thesis would include the loss of life witnessed through his young eyes. Not just the torn bodies of the combatants he faced but mostly those of his closest friends standing next to him that gave all. Those friendships forged in battle that just hours before he was laughing with. During all of these trials, tribulations and sentences yet revealed to the fragile mind, his chosen institution of higher learning, rewards him and his peers with medals and badges applauding his accomplishments. And even I cannot list all he as accomplished in the 15 years since walking off of this field that I circle. That Honorary Doctorate he proudly earned? I wonder how many realize, that the actual award of this degree is exactly what allowed those that choose to pursue a formal education the freedom to do just that! His diplomas, while not hanging on a wall, can be read by men if they are wise enough to understand what they are seeing. Across the left breast of his uniform are colorful ribbons and badges his military education awards him in pursuit of his coveted degrees. Air Force Special Ops badge, Ranger Tab, HALO parachute wings, three bronze stars with "V" device and a Purple Heart he tells me he chooses not to wear because his friends suffered and bled far more than he did. Oh, I could go on about this and just may in my blog as Memorial Day approaches. In the meantime I will continue my trips around this graduation field as to extend my quality of life and to reflect in my own mind the gains and losses that began here in May of 2000. That is easy to do as 15 years ago I too, was much younger. It just seems with time, instead of our eyes growing dim, they become more focused on what reality really is.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted May 10th from Pineville High School Stadium football field and Track</span><br />
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It has to be the persistent rainfall throughout the entire Red River Basin that brings my River to this fast, boiling pace. She is more angry than I've ever witnessed since our affair began in the first full month of winter in 2012. I do not think she is close to flood stage as I sit here but truly, never before have I noticed her mark the concrete bridge supports this high. Simply too angry to talk. Just watch, is the message. All to soon this attitude will be just a memory like everything else you have encountered in your life. Wonder how she remembers me as she races by? Think I will go now.<br />
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Posted May 19 from my afternoon river<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;"> How many times have I reflected on the sounds of nature as I walked from my home into the breaking dawn of any given morning the past three or four years? I encountered a strange noise this morning. It is one I heard for the first time last weekend as I bush hogged a tract of land at a friend's house, a dull distant "buzz" of sort?? Strange! Being in a less populated part of Grant Parish, I asked her what that dull noise was. She replied that she had asked the same question a</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;">nd was told it was Locust! I pondered that through the entire week wondering how the long strange call or noise of a single locust could become the cacophony of unfettered end that I heard. The raised imprint of hundreds of thousands of locust resonated through the filtered wood lines yet miles from her home. As I entered this morning before the clutter of man made noise became more dominant than nature's soft sounds, I could hear the same song of the Cicadas in my own driveway that I heard at my friend's home miles away just last Saturday! I could clearly hear that same dull roar of thousands upon thousands of locust for myself just to the northwest of my home! If I were a farmer in another century, this would cause me tremendous concern. In another millennium who knows. 17 year swarm? My River still rises. Here is what Wikipedia said about this insect:<br /> Locusts are the swarming phase of certain species of short-horned grasshoppers in the family Acrididae. In the solitary phase these grasshoppers are innocuous, their numbers are low and they cause little economic threat to agriculture. However, under suitable conditions of drought followed by rapid vegetation growth, serotonin in their brains triggers a dramatic set of changes: they start to breed abundantly, becoming gregarious and nomadic (loosely described as migratory) when their populations become dense enough. They form bands of wingless nymphs which later become swarms of winged adults. Both the bands and the swarms move around and rapidly strip fields and cause damage to crops. The adults are powerful fliers; they can travel great distances, consuming most of the green vegetation wherever the swarm settles.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.31px;"> I just seemed to find it rather interesting as I have sat in the cooling shade of Oak and Pine trees during past summers and listened to the long, solitary solo of an independent Locust, wondering just how he could sustain that consistent sound for such a long, long time. It was sometime in my youth that I was amazed by the skeletal remains of the skin I would find attached in various places. I do recall stumbling across one struggling to shed its skin one day...I was very interested in the slow struggle and how moist the bug appeared in its quest to take on a new identity... I would think now, to experience this, an entire new perspective just may open in my mind. Just thinking out loud. I know thousands are wondering the same thing.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="color: black;"> And the west delivers the evening's best entertainment thus far. Satellite reception on my television set stalls and the close rumble of thunder tells me increased cloud cover is the reason why. The line of severe thunderstorms approaches as the sounds of increased winds and rain taunts slumber within our souls and our body begs our submission. I remain still in my recliner and listen as the approaching edge of this system disturbs the once tranquil existence just outside of my protected walls. All too soon the heavy slap of rain upon my concrete patio and the loud report of thunder accompanied instantly with the flash of lightening makes me smile knowing the I am in the midst of nature's cleansing. I close my eyes in the darkened room and listen to the sounds that tempts one into a relaxing sleep. I remember in distant memory of years collected in another millennium, the summer rainfalls upon the tin roofs of the Amite County Mississippi dairy and hay barn where I spent my summers at my uncle's dairy farm! Those hot summer days of 95° plus temps would drop into the mid to low 70's making us shiver, almost uncontrolled. Here I find my disturbed mind at 23:15 hours a</span><span class="text_exposed_show"><span style="color: black;">s another waive of heavy storms approach. Instead of sleep, I am being pulled to my carport to witness the awesome power of a yet to be defined rainstorm event. The awesome work of an infinite universe, reflective of intelligent, omnipotent design that my short stay here upon compared to eternity might witness? It seems to call my name. When does the end begin and why do we allow it to take so long?</span></span></span></span><br />
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What peace surrounds me on my patio as my mockingbird competes with other feathered vocalist as they prepare for roost! Through the thin layers of clouds, a full moon is making her presence known after many cloud covered nights as her distorted shape becomes more dominate in the East South East sky! This high vacuum sucking sound of high altitude commercial aircraft blends with the other sounds expected on this calm afternoon I have experienced here on this glider at my fav<span class="text_exposed_show">ored outside spot. One frog cries his disdain as similar life forms have vacated my once bullfrog infested swimming pool replaced with proper levels of chlorinated swimming water! It will not be long before the splash of grandkids fill the long summer days and old Poppy is left to clean and vacuum the new lined pool. I know, I know and keep the chlorine level higher than the uric acid deposited each day. And just ask any one of them. Not one would ever dare to pee in Poppy's swimming pool.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted May 31 from my late evening home</span><br />
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Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-8168072234255189152015-03-03T19:22:00.002-06:002015-03-31T15:39:44.254-05:00Rod's Reflections for March 2015<strong><span style="font-size: large;">March</span></strong><br />
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It has been awhile since I have sat alone on my patio. It is a comfortable 75° accented with the sound of active amphibians across the watered spaces of my backyard's expanse. What I find pleasantly before me is a full moon gazing down through my Longleaf Pine and sparsely clouded sky. It is astounding when I take the time to allow the memories that embrace me as I sit alone in this particular spot. Distant planets are where they are supposed to be as I struggle to name the <span class="text_exposed_show">least brightest at distance to Jupiter and then Saturn? I wonder if there are those that wonder the same things as I when the beauty of God's creation embraces me. And that moon! Always that moon. Somewhere a life takes its last breath while another takes its first! As for me? Until I take my last, there are still dreams to capture! Another airliner passes overhead from Atlanta to Houston. I like it here until this time tomorrow. Shaking my head. Another jump from Winter to Summer is typical for my Louisiana. Will there simply refuse to be a Spring season? Temperatures are projected around 22° in the next couple of days. But I'm still breathing...</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted March 3 from my afternoon home</span><br />
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Saturday morning in Central Louisiana. A week into daylight savings time and Spring continues her struggle with a determined Winter that refuses to relinquish her rainy dominance. March is a benchmark month for me as I said good bye to my dad on this date in 1996. Just 9 days shy of one year, March 5 of 1997 my mother joined dad in their promised reward. I recall memories of this month so well and vividly remember the blooms of the Dogwoods along with the pristine blue skies as the Southern Hem<span class="text_exposed_show">isphere passes their summer/fall to jumpstart our Northern Hemisphere's spring/summer. Yes, that gradual tilt of our earth as on the 20th of this, my most favored month, our daylight and dark will be equal in length as we mark the official end of Winter. Spring will tease us today here in my part of the world where I will participate! I have 8 students to instruct in basic pistol and concealed carry. I so desire the smell of fresh cut, spring grass. I am blessed!</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted March 14 from my early morning start</span><br />
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She is only one foot below her minor flood stage of 36 feet. With that being said, she runs south with minimal flood gate control with an attitude. Northbound, against her determined destination, <em>Miss Christi</em> navigates the spans of my draw bridge with 8 barges of coal destined to fuel central Louisiana's steam electric plant. The disturbed interaction between the natural flow of my river and the adjusted power of <em>Miss Christi's</em> powerful Diesel engines, causes deep, discombobulated waves that could swamp any commercial Jon boat that might encounter such happenstance. In the meantime, my Mockingbird serenades the surrounding events and my 62° temperatures will yield to a warmer day as it passes. Thus defines the beginning of my Tuesday. :-)<br />
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Posted March 17 from my early morning river<br />
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For all of the intellectual types reviewing this final post for March, I wanted to share with you what Wikipedia had to say about the precision of the atomic clock: "The accuracy of an atomic clock depends on two factors. The first factor is temperature of the sample atoms—colder atoms move much more slowly, allowing longer probe times. The second factor is the frequency and intrinsic width of the electronic transition. Higher frequencies and narrow lines increase the precisi<span class="text_exposed_show">on." Man strives to synchronize the entire universe for whatever reason I don't even think they understand. And for what? I would think that everyone of us could come up with reasons to be precise and pinpoint that one point in time? Time. There it is. Time is now and becomes history in one tick of a Nano-second of the atomic clock or whatever a Nano-second is. I have no idea. Here is what I do know. Today is the last day of the month of March as well as the end of the first quarter of the year 2015. Three months of the new year we just celebrated a few weeks ago is gone. Had nothing to do with the atomic measurement of time but more of us being excited about something that is going to happen tomorrow while we let right now slip away unnoticed. Here is something else I feel comfortable with. When my Nano-second comes, will I know it, will it be slow or quick in its announcement of its intention, or will it surprise me. I just know it will come and being the chicken I am, sure hope it doesn't hurt too bad. Nope. The finite measurement of universal time is infinite! But there will come that atomic second when it will end. Then what? How long is forever and how is that measured?</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted March 31 sometimes after the 1530 hour.</span>Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-12923422564887856092015-02-25T20:31:00.004-06:002017-04-12T13:22:01.638-05:00Still Within Your Grasp? <br />
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As I was going through my old blog and collection of short stories I had put together since 2011, I stumbled across this "observation" I had stored in the unpublished or draft section. I think at some point I may have published it as one of my daily or occasional Facebook post, just not sure. What caught my attention was the fact I had given this a title, so was it meant to be a daily post or a short story? As I read this, I found I had collected my thoughts in a short story attempt around February 25, 2015. Here we are in 2017, just a few days shy of Donald J. Trump's first 100 days as president, and the colors of this nation have never been more defined. We are slightly more red than we are blue, defined as liberal/conservative, socialist/capitalist, non-believer/believer and I could go on and on. Regardless, a very heavy disdain for one another exist among all of us that we presently acknowledge is as polarizing as North was to South. Yes. Do you remember studying that one in American History? I'm pretty sure it happened, but there are those out there that want to say the holocaust did not occur. Yes? So, as to appease these voices of social unrest, we allow the monuments of this country's dark history to be destroyed or taken down for what ever asinine reason any of us today were never exposed to. Why are they not looked upon as a reminder that this part of our history united us once again as a country blessed by God Almighty as our fledging Republic threw off the bonds of slavery as an example for the entire world? So let us fast forward 152 years and what say ye today as once again storm clouds gather posing another threat that may re-define our nations legacy? As my ramblings below reflect, you, as did I probably remained silent up until now. We did silently chose a side as our vote firmly spoke to those that opposed our core beliefs. So here we are. It is time to walk the walk and talk the talk and see if God will allow us to Make America Great Again. So this is where my collection of thoughts were spilled for review in ASCII format.<br />
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<strong><em> STILL WITHIN YOUR GRASP?</em></strong><br />
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It was a cold, somewhat icy predawn at my river this morning. Several things crossed my mind as I noticed my river was giving off tendrils of foggy tags reminding me the ambient temperature was colder than the water itself. Scratched my head as my mind wandered off to Jackson, MS, all the way through Vicksburg, Monroe, Shreveport to Arlington, TX. I was just thinking of people in my past, present, and forever memory and how they were dealing with this late February icy mess. As I sat down in my office and brought up the internet to go over my news sources, Fox News and Facebook, the following picture hovered conspicuously on a friend's wall, imprinting into my mind. Let me see if I can share with you my thoughts as I looked, looked again, and simply could not shake the following posted script: <br />
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Things that I treasure that you do not mess with? Well, that resonated quite well with me and I felt like I could share that with everyone on my wall. However, for some reason it kept bouncing off short circuited intersections in my limited mental resources, and I could not help but think out loud. Let's start with the first thing of mine you should never mess with.</div>
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MY FAITH: Has nothing to do with Baptist, Catholic, Pentecostal, or any other spiritual concoction spawned in the mind of man. My Faith is within me and consists of The Father, The Son, and the Holy Spirit. My Faith: I believe that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob created this world and put everything in it for MY pleasure, for me to have dominion over. The only thing put on this earth for HIS pleasure was you and me. We, people, were created by God for us to Worship Him, ultimately, for HIS pleasure. Except now, we are being told our faith is substandard and only the ISLAMIC doctrine will be tolerated as an acceptable form of faith. What? Oh yes... It's happening, right now on every news source we have. And we remain surprisingly silent so as not to offend anyone while the proponents of Allah allow the slaughter of any other faith but Islam! Yes, it IS happening! Shut the hell up if you are that stupid!<br />
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MY FAMILY: If you are my age (64) or there about, your roots runs similarly parallel to mine. I think sociologists coined it the "nuclear family" somewhere back? The Father, Mother, Children (how ever many we wanted), and toss in any number of dogs, cats, gerbils, lizards and an occasional pet rock? Wonder where this family model was first established? Fast forward one 50 year span of time. Heather now has two mothers and the father is simply referred to as my baby's daddy! Its ok. I found myself in my early adult years trying to liberalize my world by redefining religious guidelines and social mores and ended up trying to float a blended family. On rare occasions it has been known to work, but usually it deteriorates along with the passage of time because that FAITH thing has obviously been so distorted. Nah, it wouldn't have a thing to do with rock and roll or country music, television, Hollywood, or may the God I referred to earlier forbid, the unionized school systems. Why don't <strong><em>you</em></strong> just tell me how effective that government modeled institution is to our youth today as "common core" is being forced down our throats!! Oh, and please go ahead and worship as quietly as you can now, Church or organized religion, before Islam burns you to the ground. Yup... We remain silent as that institution a long with education, slips into history to be distorted like everything else we once held dear.<br />
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MY GUNS: Oh yes... Guaranteed by the Constitution of the NEWNITED SKATES. <em>Inalienable</em> <em>rights</em>, correct? As John Adams stated many years ago, "<strong><em>Our Constitution was made only for a <u>moral and religious</u> people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other</em></strong>." Without faith, family and moral values, those inalienable rights are now not so "alien." We have them, sure, or do we? We have sat back as a civilized society and allowed "laws" to restrict the use of such tools as they were designed to be used. For crying out loud, do not go there with me! In the hands of an honest and moral people firearms, will balance and persevere over those that do not know better. For the first time in my LIFE, the very Constitution that everyone elected by a free society, raises their right hand to PROTECT from enemies FOREIGN and DOMESTIC is being attacked!! Not just the second amendment, but the first, as well as the other 24 are under attack by the very government it was <strong><em>Divinely designed to protect us from</em></strong>! Many of our elected officials draw encouragement from the bastions of liberal academia and would like to see nothing more than all 26 amendments destroyed and reconstituted along socialist lines of thought. YES!!! This is where YOUR KIDS are going to COLLEGE!!! Open your eyes and in the mean time, realize just how safe and secure you are because your daddy's, daddy's guns are in your closet? Don't worry. If your are wondering about the 27th amendment? It was repealed. Prohibition, remember? At least now when they undo the other 26 "inalienable rights," we can all get drunk and not think about them Democrats and Republicans that we sent to Washingmachine, DC to represent us. Still alarmingly quiet, don't you think?<br />
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MY FLAG: Oh my word. Our flag... No doubt that will not be trifled with! Love the song by Johnny Cash, "That Ragged old Flag," where he says "the Native American Indian, the yellow, black and white men and women shed red blood for the Stars and Stripes!" The blue Field of Honor with each state represented in pristine white stars as a symbol of us being UNITED! But yet everywhere we look, there appears holes in the melting pot that was once America. Flags from different nations pop up indiscriminately where ever those that choose NOT to be American stick them. Even the Glory of this very nation has come under attack when some veteran wants to fly that Grand Old Flag from his porch and some "neighborhood association" says it is NOW OFFENSIVE, therefore PROHIBITED!!! What?? Oh yes... Shut up and call me a liar! And that is exactly what we all do. We shut up and remain silent to be politically correct as not to disturb the sinking ship we do not even realize we are existing in.<br />
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MY COUNTRY: Many that know me have heard me share this from The Statue of Liberty: Give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free! The invitation to become a part of One Nation Under God! And because of the promise of the Constitution guaranteeing them Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness, they came from different cultures, languages, attitudes, and beliefs. Because this country was BLESSED by God Almighty, these people immigrated <em>legally</em> to the United States of America and gave up their native language and adopted our language. They believed in this Country so much they gave their sons and daughters in war after war and two world wars to solidify their commitment to this republic! Here we are today, asking the very God who once blessed us as a nation to step aside and let US govern ourselves. Somewhere in the old testament, did not God's chosen people demand a king? You know, like they didn't need Him? Oh yes, for the indifferent amongst us, history does repeat itself. If you are capable, observe what has happened to those once favored people we called the Israelites. This is going to happen to this once great nation! Our leadership continues to apologize to other Nations for who and what we are as we allow ourselves to become like the rest of the world. We are becoming less of a guiding light, and more of a dim reflection of what we once were. Now just A Nation, Without God, Divided without Liberty and Justice only for a Chosen few? Go ahead. Get angry... lay across the bed and try to zip up those pants you wore last year! That zipper ain't gonna lie, is it? <br />
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MY LIBERTY: Yes, we still have it. Conditionally. And we are still comfortable despite the constant erosion of "our liberties" as we once knew them. What, you might be asking? Try putting your kids in any public school you want even if it is across the street from your house. Wear an open carry firearm into the post office or better yet, walk into a police department asking for an accident report wearing one. Oh my word, yank up one of your children and blister that backside because you just watched them spit in the face of one of their brothers, sisters, cousins or a friend of theirs from next door. Don't you dare chastise someone else's child and be sure your vocabulary is politically correct! Do you still pray in a public restaurant? You probably quit that somewhere along the way and if you haven't, just give it a little more time. Some Muslim or agnostic leaning carbon life form will complain and that will stop too, eventually. And next time you pass by your local police department, smile when you see that huge MRAP or Mine Resistant Armored Personnel carrier sitting there. Seriously, why exactly is it sitting there now? And just how long will we sit here and be silent when a white, United Nations Vehicle occupied by folks with blue helmets start telling us just <em>Exactly</em> what we can, cannot, and will not do. Today, I can drive across the Mississippi Bridge into that great sister state without restriction. But what does my tomorrow really hold? <br />
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So as we beat our chest, exalt in our possessions and social standings, take the time to remember that with time, everything erodes. Including those things you think are inalienably yours. Think about it.<br />
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Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-72911284202799861362015-02-02T13:48:00.001-06:002018-02-28T08:42:59.832-06:00Rod's Reflections for February 2015<br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;">February</span></strong><br />
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And February began its daily march through our life yesterday which was Sunday. I remembered the Space Shuttle Columbia's tragic reentry of earth's orbit on that clear frosty morning in 2003. At 43.5 (+/-) miles above the earth's surface traveling 17,000 (+/-) mph, Columbia began to tumble out of control and breaking apart. Debris and space shuttle wreckage was scattered for hundreds of miles across the Texas and Louisiana landscapes. The loss of Six American Astronauts and Israel's first Astronaut will forever be honored in recorded history as their fate was attributed to a piece of heat tile damaged at launch that NASA was aware of. As I was walking from the parking lot to my office in City Hall, I gazed into the cold blue sky of this morning's beautiful beginning as memories of that day resonated in my mind as it often does when Winter's February revisits us each year. I will never forget Neil Armstrong's words as we watched him step from the leg of the Lunar Landing Module onto the surface of the moon in July of 1969. "that's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." He never mentioned the stumbles and falls... They were certainly implied and imminent, but yet defined. Just rambling as another day passes by...<br />
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<strong> In Memory of STS-107 February 1, 2003</strong></div>
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<em>Commander</em>: Rick D. Husband, USAF Colonel</div>
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<em>Pilot</em>: William C. McCool, US Navy Commander </div>
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<em>Payload Commander</em>: Michael P. Anderson, USAF Lieutenant Colonel </div>
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<em>Payload Specialist</em>: Ilan Ramon Israeli Air Force, Colonel </div>
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<em>Mission Specialist</em>: Kalpana Chawla, Aerospace Engineer </div>
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<em>Mission Specialist</em>: David M. Brown, US Navy Captain</div>
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<em>Mission Specialist</em>: Laurel Blair Salton Clark, </div>
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US Navy Captain and Flight Surgeon</div>
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Posted February 2, from my morning office<br />
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When I think of America, one of the first things that settles comfortably into my mindset is the American Bald Eagle. Their existence alone defines the depths of America's beauty. Think it in your mind as you say, Purple Mountains and think Amber wave after wave of grain! The screech of a wild raptor soaring high against a blue sky framed in the Continental Divides Rocky Mountains is the collected icon of freedom that beats in the heart of true Americans! I am able to watch online at random the nest of mating Eagles, Harriet and Ozzie, as they raise their own eaglet on streaming video <a href="http://southwestfloridaeaglecam.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">southwestfloridaeaglecam.com</a> in Florida. It is so fascinating to watch the collective care both parents give their offspring as they feed, groom and continuously dress and maintain the lair the surviving hatchling grows in. And yet as we direct our focus beyond the nest, the never ending encroachment of the civilization they champion! As I sat in my car today over looking Lake Buhlow in my small city of Pineville, LA, I observed what appeared to be a bird of prey skim low over the calm waters of its surface. I felt it could have been but only until the bird pulled altitude was I able to clearly see the body framed against distant evergreens. That uniquely defined powerful brown body, accented with a white head and tail distinctly reserved for that particular symbol of power and freedom. It has adapted throughout our America and defines the vastness of our heritage that instills in me a passion to persevere and by any means to preserve what was handed to me.<br />
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Posted February 4 during my noon hour<br />
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Blistering morning beside my river's edge as mother nature crosses swords with those early blooming plants that dared to bare bloom during the first temptations of Spring's calling. It is 29 degrees with a wind chill factor of 20 degrees as I sit here watching my 60' flag at full extension as a north wind displays her filament lighted colors before daylight breaks. Yesterday morning greeted Central Louisiana with somewhat seasonal temperatures as most people began their day. I happened to be off work because of a national holiday we use to celebrate as George Washington's Birthday, but now behold as Presidents Day. I was on my own time so I found myself parking my car in the parking lot of Louisiana College where I am a member of their health club and gym. As I arrived at the gym around 11:30 am or so, an anticipated cold front was beginning to temper the coming change. Strong winds accompanied by an overcast sky with heavy drizzle presenting itself sideways in gusts, greeted me as I removed myself from the driver's seat and opened the back door to gather my gym bag. Closing the door to my car, I moved against the stiff winds to go inside to exercise when I heard the distinct singing of my favorite Passerine, the Mockingbird.<br />
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I stopped in my tracks, feeling a deep desire to possibly locate and see the source from which this sound was coming. Could I possibly find this bird in such a vast area?? I sat my gym bag on the trunk of my car and leaned against it for support with every intention of doing just that! To my left was the gym and health center, and just beyond that was US 165/167 by pass. Traffic noise is consistently generated from this source as north/south traffic races along at 55+ miles per hour almost constantly. In front of me spreads a parking lot with a sprinkling of vehicles. Just beyond that is Louisiana College's Baseball Field and a Kansas City Southern <br />
Railroad crossing. The blaring horn from a brace of train engines and the clatter of freight cars that followed, combined with the high speed noise of the by-pass paled to the distinct sound of this bird's voice. He halted my progress desiring my attention as if the song he were singing was for me alone. Where could he possibly be? I searched the area knowing the direction of the music. The distant pine trees? No. My Mockingbirds do not inhabit trees when they rejoice. They sit independently on a high perch or high line. THERE!! On top of a tall security light at the edge of the parking lot of the health center was my source. A little gray spot sitting on the very top of the light frame, singing his heart out. I pulled my iPhone 4s from my hoodie, directed the photo lens in the direction of the security light, taking the first picture. I then zoomed the small camera lens to the depth of its ability and took the <br />
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second picture. I barely could recognize that little grey spot 100' or more from me, yet I was his captive audience. I was mesmerized by the beauty of the "sound" coming from such a tiny source. It was as if his tiny voice was magnified through the most powerful of Bose Concert Speakers because it muted the clatter of passing rail cars and high speed traffic. God's creation, however so small in size, dominated the noises of manmade clutter just for my pleasure! Thank you Precious God for using such a tiny part of Your Universe to pause my day that I may give You the praise You so deserve. A Mockingbird. Still amazed at the experience, I am beginning to think more and more that just maybe my heart's yieldings should not be cast out for casual review or critique, but maybe harbored here in the solitude of my blog. It is here that those closest to me might find and understand what lies within the meaning of the words I share. I so hope you take the time to hear a Mockingbird's prayer if one ever calls your name. </div>
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Posted February 17 from my office <br />
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It was a cold, somewhat icy predawn at my river this morning. Several things crossed my mind as I noticed my river was giving off tendrils of foggy tags reminding me the ambient temperature was colder than the water itself. Scratched my head as my mind wandered off to Jackson, MS, all the way through Vicksburg, Monroe, Shreveport to Arlington, TX. I was just thinking of people in my past, present, and forever memory and how they were dealing with this late February icy mess. As I sat down in my office and brought up the internet to go over my news sources, Fox News and Facebook, the following picture hovered conspicuously on a friend's wall, imprinting into my mind. Let me see if I can share with you my thoughts as I looked, looked again, and simply could not shake the following posted script: <br />
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Things that I treasure that you do not mess with? Well, that resonated quite well with me and I felt like I could share that with everyone on my wall. However, for some reason it kept bouncing off short circuited intersections in my limited mental resources, and I could not help but think out loud. Let's start with the first thing of mine you should never mess with.</div>
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MY FAITH: Has nothing to do with Baptist, Catholic, Pentecostal, or any other spiritual concoction spawned in the mind of man. My Faith is within me and consists of The Father, The Son, and the Holy Spirit. My Faith: I believe that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob created this world and put everything in it for MY pleasure, for me to have dominion over. The only thing put on this earth for HIS pleasure was you and me. We, people, were created by God for us to Worship Him, ultimately, for HIS pleasure. Except now, we are being told our faith is substandard and only the ISLAMIC doctrine will be tolerated as an acceptable form of faith. What? Oh yes... It's happening, right now on every news source we have. And we remain surprisingly silent so as not to offend anyone while the proponents of Allah allow the slaughter of any other faith but Islam! Yes, it IS happening! Shut the hell up if you are that stupid!<br />
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MY FAMILY: If you are my age (64) or there about, your roots runs similarly parallel to mine. I think sociologists coined it the "nuclear family" somewhere back? The Father, Mother, Children (how ever many we wanted), and toss in any number of dogs, cats, gerbils, lizards and an occasional pet rock? Wonder where this family model was first established? Fast forward one 50 year span of time. Heather now has two mothers and the father is simply referred to as my baby's daddy! Its ok. I found myself in my early adult years trying to liberalize my world by redefining religious guidelines and social mores and ended up trying to float a blended family. On rare occasions it has been known to work, but usually it deteriorates along with the passage of time because that FAITH thing has obviously been so distorted. Nah, it wouldn't have a thing to do with rock and roll or country music, television, Hollywood, or may the God I referred to earlier forbid, the unionized school systems. Why don't <strong><em>you</em></strong> just tell me how effective that government modeled institution is to our youth today as "common core" is being forced down our throats!! Oh, and please go ahead and worship as quietly as you can now, Church or organized religion, before Islam burns you to the ground. Yup... We remain silent as that institution a long with education, slips into history to be distorted like everything else we once held dear.<br />
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MY GUNS: Oh yes... Guaranteed by the Constitution of the NEWNITED SKATES. <em>Inalienable</em> <em>rights</em>, correct? As John Adams stated many years ago, "<strong><em>Our Constitution was made only for a <u>moral and religious</u> people. It is wholly inadequate to the government of any other</em></strong>." Without faith, family and moral values, those inalienable rights are now not so "alien." We have them, sure, or do we? We have sat back as a civilized society and allowed "laws" to restrict the use of such tools as they were designed to be used. For crying out loud, do not go there with me! In the hands of an honest and moral people firearms, will balance and persevere over those that do not know better. For the first time in my LIFE, the very Constitution that everyone elected by a free society, raises their right hand to PROTECT from enemies FOREIGN and DOMESTIC is being attacked!! Not just the second amendment, but the first, as well as the other 24 are under attack by the very government it was Divinely designed to protect us from! Many of our elected officials draw encouragement from the bastions of liberal academia and would like to see nothing more than all 26 amendments destroyed and reconstituted along socialist lines of thought. YES!!! This is where YOUR KIDS are going to COLLEGE!!! Open your eyes and in the mean time, realize just how safe and secure you are because your daddy's, daddy's guns are in your closet? Don't worry. If your are wondering about the 27th amendment? It was repealed. Prohibition, remember? At least now when they undo the other 26 "inalienable rights," we can all get drunk and not think about them Democrats and Republicans that we sent to Washingmachine, DC to represent us. Still alarmingly quiet, don't you think?<br />
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MY FLAG: Oh my word. Our flag... No doubt that will not be trifled with! Love the song by Johnny Cash, "That Ragged old Flag," where he says "the Native American Indian, the yellow, black and white men and women shed red blood for the Stars and Stripes!" The blue Field of Honor with each state represented in pristine white stars as a symbol of us being UNITED! But yet everywhere we look, there appears holes in the melting pot that was once America. Flags from different nations pop up indiscriminately where ever those that choose NOT to be American stick them. Even the Glory of this very nation has come under attack when some veteran wants to fly that Grand Old Flag from his porch and some "neighborhood association" says it is NOW OFFENSIVE, therefore PROHIBITED!!! What?? Oh yes... Shut up and call me a liar! And that is exactly what we all do. We shut up and remain silent to be politically correct as not to disturb the sinking ship we do not even realize we are existing in.<br />
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MY COUNTRY: Many that know me have heard me share this from The Statue of Liberty: Give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free! The invitation to become a part of One Nation Under God! And because of the promise of the Constitution guaranteeing them Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness, they came from different cultures, languages, attitudes, and beliefs. Because this country was BLESSED by God Almighty, these people immigrated <em>legally</em> to the United States of America and gave up their native language and adopted our language. They believed in this Country so much they gave their sons and daughters in war after war and two world wars to solidify their commitment to this republic! Here we are today, asking the very God who once blessed us as a nation to step aside and let US govern ourselves. Somewhere in the old testament, did not God's chosen people demand a king? You know, like they didn't need Him? Oh yes, for the indifferent amongst us, history does repeat itself. If you are capable, observe what has happened to those once favored people we called the Israelites. This is going to happen to this once great nation! Our leadership continues to apologize to other Nations for who and what we are as we allow ourselves to become like the rest of the world. We are becoming less of a guiding light, and more of a dim reflection of what we once were. Now just A Nation, Without God, Divided without Liberty and Justice only for a Chosen few. Go ahead. Get angry... lay across the bed and try to zip up those pants you wore last year! That zipper ain't gonna lie, is it? <br />
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MY LIBERTY: Yes, we still have it. Conditionally. And we are still comfortable despite the constant erosion of "our liberties" as we once knew them. What, you might be asking? Try putting your kids in any public school you want even if it is across the street from your house. Wear an open carry firearm into the post office or better yet, walk into a police department asking for an accident report wearing one. Oh my word, yank up one of your children and blister that backside because you just watched them spit in the face of one of their brothers, sisters, cousins or a friend of theirs from next door. Don't you dare chastise someone else's child and be sure your vocabulary is politically correct! Do you still pray in a public restaurant? You probably quit that somewhere along the way and if you haven't, just give it a little more time. Some Muslim or agnostic leaning carbon life form will complain and that will stop too, eventually. And next time you pass by your local police department, smile when you see that huge MRAP or Mine Resistant Armored Personnel carrier sitting there. Seriously, why exactly is it sitting there now? And just how long will we sit here and be silent when a white, United Nations Vehicle occupied by folks with blue helmets start telling us just <em>Exactly</em> what we can, cannot, and will not do. Today, I can drive across the Mississippi Bridge into that great sister state without restriction. But what does my tomorrow really hold? <br />
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So as we beat our chest and exalt in our possessions and social standings, take the time to remember that with time, everything erodes. Including those things you think are inalienably yours. Think about it.<br />
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Posted February 24 from my home<br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">This Pledge We Take...</span></strong><br />
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"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."<br />
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We pledged that allegiance... Even still, a handful of "specialist" said, as children we were being brainwashed. All 50 of our states were United under the republic they were founded upon as well as the many territories that chose to pattern themselves with us. We were that "One Nation Under that One God," and we were blessed by HIM and we remained indivisible because of who we became under Him. But over a 50 year span of time, dissent against HIS desire for us became a mockery and that handful of others that could not understand and or recognize the blessings of an Omnipotent Being placed the blame on some manmade theory of science or other excuses allowing major divisions. These divisions began along racial and political divides and was preached in academia across this land to young minds oblivious to History's lessons.. This erosion of core values became a religion of its own and found traction in this country's Progressive movement with the help of the new propaganda that dusted us daily, yet we yielded still. If we could open our eyes we could plainly see this acceptance of a new moral standards has tapped a source similar in spiritual proportions only realized in those battles that existed in realms not understood by common man before, during and after our individual existence on this earth. I guess these spiritual battles became that "big bang theory" that divided us somewhat similar to the expanding universe God continues to create for us to spend an eternity in. <br />
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And here we are in the year 2015. A new order has taken place in this once great nation and it was accomplished in just one generation with the help and silent refrain of a couple of others. I take every opportunity the thank members of the greatest generation for their sacrifice and gift to me and apologize for letting them down. Guess I was one of the "silent" of the three generations that didn't want to "make waves" against the "loud and boisterous," the media leans heavily to support. I was referred to as the silent majority, disgruntled veteran, conservative, angry white male and Christian and of course that radical Three percenter or Skin Head??? My biggest mistake was sending those I elected to Washington to represent me and NOT HOLDING THEM ACCOUNTABLE!!<br />
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So let us look at this Pledge of Allegiance and how it will evolve in time to replace the one we grew up with: "I cannot pledge allegiance to any flag of America as our States are no longer United under one, but several. The Republic, for which it once was called, is not blessed by One God but that of several pagan god's of our choice. Indivisible became splintered as America Today sees liberty and justice for all redefined along progressive lines with our governments telling us what is best us. These are the people we now pledge our new allegiance for. <br />
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I pray that I might survive into 2025 or possibly 2030 and still pursue Life, Liberty and Happiness as I was brainwashed to believe. I still have the life of freedom in every cell of my body as I know that God and His Divinely inspired Constitution was the reason for who and am and what this Country still is?? Yes I must ask, what will history reveal of my "baby boomer" generation as the greatest country in recorded history bows its knee to the satanic controls of progressive socialism in the hearts of our millennial population? My oath of allegiance to this Constitutional Republic never expires. What can an aging 64 year old veteran do to change back to the ways of our father's? As I debate this question and feel the sting of my "Molon Labe" tattoo under my left bicep, a couple of things are clearly obvious. Blood and Prayers. It was the blood of those that gave their tomorrow for our today as they responded to the answered Prayers of so many of us that got "me" to where I am today. <br />
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Posted February 27 from my office.<br />
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Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-56978770628401993702015-01-05T20:28:00.000-06:002015-05-26T21:02:27.779-05:00Rod's Reflections for January 2015As 2014 faded, I debated continuing the collection of posts made through the year(s) in what is known as "Facebook Quotes for 2011, 2012, 2013 and of course each respective month of the year 2014." For those of you that follow my blog, this was nothing more than <em>thoughts and reflections</em> I shared on my facebook wall in <em>ordinary writing</em>. I would then copy and paste them to my blog of Short Stories where so often I would add to and edit, with the help of a friend, the final content. As the months passed, I realized that I was beginning to post more and more directly to my blog than to copy from my facebook wall. Thus I felt prompted to make an appropriate title change. Rod's Ramblings, Rod's Reflections and my choice of title, Rod's Cogitative Prose for January 2015 were tossed about amongst a thrice of favored friends and I lost. Should have called it Rod's Regurgitations and left it at that! As the positioning among friends evolved, I began to realize that "reflections" really reverberated in my senses, so I surrendered "more technical" for "simplicity." I still liked it though! <em><strong>Cogitation</strong>: The ability to think and reflect</em>! <em><strong>Prose</strong>: Not poetry but ordinary writing</em>. Both words seemed to play off one another as I do think and reflect at my river's edge. From those dawning thoughts, I write it down in ordinary words. So, here we are as 2015 begins. Hope you stay with me?<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">January</span><br />
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First work day of 2015! My River greets me with her cold, yet beautiful self as a 22° chill factor embraces me as I sit on her shoulders. The full moon positions herself through the lift spans of my draw bridge as I watch her race to her disappearance in the west, southwest sky for the 31st time since I started counting. I smile as I remember the wise old Indian telling a cowboy of an event that occurred "'many moons ago." It was some black and white western I grew u<span class="text_exposed_show">p with as a boy, Roy Rogers, King of the Cowboys, or Gene Autry, the Singing Cowboy! Who knows. It was many moons ago and I still use that phrase to refer to a time long ago instead of a date! Regardless of who, what, when, or where, the faces we know in our life flash through our memories like a collage of graffiti. We speed by as these faces of thousands, so many closer that most, become imprinted in our minds that last a life time! Yup. Think about that one person you have known your entire life. The helpless face of an infant, their cute toothless years in the first couple of years of grade school? Think about it! We grow into puberty, high school, and then take possession of our generation's world. Faces, thousands more of other people blending with those that were more significant to us than were others. My face is but one of thousands in someone else's life! Anyway, I'm rambling now. My dawn breaks red in my rear view mirror and my moon is a perfect field goal sitting between my traffic bridge uprights as the dark night gives us yet another day. My 37 year old adopted son took an ambulance ride to the hospital early this morning as he awakened with another spell of angina pain. Heart disease? Imagine that. I must attend an 80 hour training school the next couple of weeks conducted by the sheriff's department to authorize me to babysit trustees that are so helpful in maintaining city facilities. And that collage of faces? Maybe, just maybe when you find more love in the memories than you do in the person standing before you or dancing in your mind, do you realize as surly as the many moons mark time in its passing, another face and their memories join the blur of those many others that will become a blur as we speed by. On the 31st of December, I closed my 2014 blog telling the readers there was peace in my heart for this coming year we just welcomed. Now, so soon into its infancy,there are small, defining challenges announcing themselves so I might prepare for my part in its resolution. But, my soul folkses, this is starting out to be a beautiful day! So glad your face is so vivid and real!</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted January 5 from my River</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbumKRiG7sOsr0wo7jPJNHlpBW07yYm5_pwit4_DYLXdTXm_y_OOehOikrXQo53LbeI4ClOZ1cFtFEHIxZAVMo5aUXZyiOKKtx337xcQNNEgVPRsBtyuoVHDAeK9qFKqb-W_OfwD8K5CsV/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbumKRiG7sOsr0wo7jPJNHlpBW07yYm5_pwit4_DYLXdTXm_y_OOehOikrXQo53LbeI4ClOZ1cFtFEHIxZAVMo5aUXZyiOKKtx337xcQNNEgVPRsBtyuoVHDAeK9qFKqb-W_OfwD8K5CsV/s1600/006.JPG" width="240" /></a> On this gray, wintry mix, 31° January morning, I find my river seems to be displaying a temperament. She is higher than usual because of the "water" dumped into her all along her borders. Excessively cold and running a little faster, I can sense an "attitude" of indifference and determination as if to re-establish a new normal. But still her journey knows the final destiny as she feeds into a greater power. Despite her perceived attitude, she is still functional for and accessible to those man made creations designed to advance civilization and set mankind apart from other life forms. A piercing spot<span class="text_exposed_show">light shatters the early morning dawn from a distant northeast bend in her local geography. My drawbridge raises to accommodate a string of approaching barges being pushed by the source of this light as the captain of the tow searches the span to acknowledge compliance for safe navigation. What was moments before a depressing adjustment to the awakening day was instantly transformed into a beautiful sight bringing me back to the reality of that moment! I smile knowing that an hour from now this moment will be forgotten until that time I discover once again, this moment reflected in the pages of my collected thoughts, weeks, months and years from this point in time. </span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted January 9 from my River</span><br />
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And on this day, I celebrated my 64th year of life. It was, for the entire day, heavily overcast with a steady cold wind. Most of January has been like this and the onset of Seasonal Affective Disorder is beginning to play that persistent chord of depression across one's mind as we are still not that distant from the Winter's Solstice. I have defined throughout the first short story I wrote, "<em><strong>The Mockingbird... Why It Is So Real In My Life</strong></em>," the four seasons of a person's life. For simplicity's sake, I correlated these life spanning years into Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter. These of course are 20 year seasons. 1 to 20 for the spring, 21 to 40 for the Summer and 41 to 60 for the fall? That would leave 61 to 80 for the winter season of my life. Anything beyond 80 is lagniappe, Okay? So with this definition, I have two (2) more years to spend in the Winter/Spring of my life before moving into the winter/summer?? Truth is, we actually begin counting those years from the time we take our first breath at day one (1). With this truth applied, the spring of my life was 20 complete years from birthday through 19 years of age. Summer began at age 20 through 39, with fall being age 40 through 59. You must understand that with every season one lives, there is another "season" following for you to undo and correct the mistakes or decisions you have made in your life. Except for the Winter Season. That is the last one. So under this obvious rule, if I/we/you are left to fulfill the remainder of our projected demise, then the first five years of that hopeful 20 year span, I will refer to as the winter/spring of my life which started at age 60. then 61, 62, 63 accented by todays 64th year. This of course is the fifth (5) and final year for me to spend in the winter/spring of my life before moving into the winter/summer. I am truly hoping that when I do reach that winter/winter season of my life, I still have my mental and physical abilities still intact. Understand? Good! I can imagine at least one good friend, that if she is still reading at this point, is probably pulling her hair out by now! Anyway, my health seems good, I exercise at a regular cadence, I take enough medicines that I could stabilize the Titanic, I've lost close to 90 pounds in the last two years and except for that scare with Bell's Palsy a year ago, there seems to be no immediate threat to my continued existence. Those of us that have taken our parents place in the "we are next to die" natural order of things, also acknowledge our past. We have come to accept those real life lessons and mistakes where the paint was grossly smeared on what we wanted to be that perfect canvas of our life. Even with those times so deeply rooted in our memories, time seems to correct those flaws that were so visible to the human eye and the judgments of mortals. With that said, let me ask you. Do you remember the <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".fd.1:3:1:$comment10205460635813680_10205464764636898:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".fd.1:3:1:$comment10205460635813680_10205464764636898:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".fd.1:3:1:$comment10205460635813680_10205464764636898:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Willie Nelson song, "<em>Ain't It Funny How Time Slips Away?</em>" It <u>is</u> funny in an amazing, collective sort of way. However, in our hearts, that time gone is sad. It is those wonderful memories and friendships that cushion the hurt of reality... and time still slips away... My thanks to the many that remembered me on this day of celebration that is now yesterday past. Your acknowledgement of my birthday strongly implies your acknowledgement to keep me as a part of your life for a while longer, yet to be defined. I do like that and it makes me smile from the bottom of my heart as I look forward to yet another gift of life our God grants us, that we call today.</span></span></span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".fd.1:3:1:$comment10205460635813680_10205464764636898:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".fd.1:3:1:$comment10205460635813680_10205464764636898:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".fd.1:3:1:$comment10205460635813680_10205464764636898:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Posted January 13 from my late evening home</span></span></span><br />
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It was one (1) year ago today that I had my unexpected introduction to Bell's Palsy. I actually kept a blog of those events for a few weeks until it slipped from its bond of dominance over my life and I realized I was actually going to return to a sense of normalcy. How do I define what level of recovery I have made? I will say this. Where I am today is more than acceptable compared to where I was this time last year. If you have kept up with my blog, you will notice a normal progression back to who and what I once was. If you could keep track of my mental adjustment, you might see I am back to where I was in some respects, before this "affliction" date. But what really does that mean? Everything is still in perfect orbit in universal tones, yet in the small timeframe we exist, sparing as intertwined interactions continue with those that structure my life into acceptable social harmonies. In the far distance a beautiful Super Nova has acknowledged the end of time as another light fades in the star lit night skies leaving traces of stardust invisible, somewhat similar to ashes poured from a golden urn into a running river. Almost as if on queue, a memorable comet high and visible in 71' and 72' appears in this millennium to do what comets do. Appear just long enough to apologize for choices made only to disappear again for another 43 years. I smiled acknowledging forgiveness, shaking my head at what possible travesty might have occurred in that unknown journey that made it focus its attention on me after so many years. I pray that this brief digital exchange was consolation enough as again that slingshot affect spins the memories of that encounter into another dimension that will exist through natural death. I am satisfied that peace was resolved after so many years. As I regain focus of these last 365 days, looking at what gains were accomplished, I count my loss insignificant as my only regret is a simple dysfunction of vocal cord synchronization. I cannot sing like I once did. That is the noticeable difference between before that event and now, one (1) year later. So, am I say, 98 or 99% back to where I was? Again what you might perceive, let us acknowledge, maybe 99 or 100%. But knowing what is gone, what I once knew and now know that I cannot use again, maybe I am at that 50% recovery. Regardless, trust me, this is far better than the unknown I was wrestling with in my mind while sitting in the emergency room of Cabrini Hospital this time last year. Now, if I could stop time and exist for a life time in that perfect moment, where oh where would I stop time. Or would I? What song will be music to my ears when the Gates of tomorrow's Dawn breaks? Maybe that would be the time to spend the rest of my life in, if I could stop time.<br />
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Posted January 25 from my late afternoon home.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpvEaRpTppl557ZabUKRlv_h33b__QTYLNyExrDK0r3uBkChSfII1q5BYehXTS-_eRcn66A9JL9U7gKNJw3HDKjbgJLTiJ_aNE-hZc38zS7L8kh-HLxgbch-y-hAwY4G9lSQdfMBxOvHjj/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpvEaRpTppl557ZabUKRlv_h33b__QTYLNyExrDK0r3uBkChSfII1q5BYehXTS-_eRcn66A9JL9U7gKNJw3HDKjbgJLTiJ_aNE-hZc38zS7L8kh-HLxgbch-y-hAwY4G9lSQdfMBxOvHjj/s1600/006.JPG" width="150" /></a> Yes, I am aware this photo is very similar to my profile picture. But, if the lens of an iPhone camera could only capture what my eyes behold on some mornings, you would understand. I wrote on my blog last evening I was anticipating another display as the Gates of a Dawning day pushes the dark night to the other side of the world. The dark red hues that are becoming visible under my high speed traffic bridge helps frame the deciduous wood line against the rivers cold surface. If I could stop time, maybe it is here for a while I would stay. Wait? I did stop time in a simple digital print! Surely a song will rise to help navigate my participation in the unknown events of the coming day. A Shreveport friend suggested <em>Morning Has Broken</em>, by Cat Stevens. Within 15 minutes, Pandora shares one of my all time favorites, <em>Fields of Gold,</em> by Sting. Both songs seemed to work as I drifted back where times past comes alive in a frozen picture.<br />
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Posted January 26 from my early morning river<br />
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Let me see now. Where was I this time last year on this day? That telephone call that reminded me it was my generations turn to say goodbye to each other. My oldest sibling, Diane Ferguson Panzico Coleman, passed away at 12:15 or so on this day. It was not an unexpected passing, but a passing still the same. She is where nothing can ever take her away from us again. That is where I was on this day of last year. Reflecting back, I reached out to my sister's beautiful daughters and sent them this message:<br />
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Wanted to let all three of you know that you are in my mind, heart and prayers today. My how time passes! Has it really been a year? Realize where we hold her now, she will never leave us again. And the beautiful thing for me is I see her still in all three of you, especially your children. Cindy? Lori? LeeAnn? I truly love all three of you.<br />
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There was snow that day. I had to polish a short story about her I had written years before that she wanted read as an Eulogy at her funeral. Then as I checked back on my facebook wall, my three nieces left their response(s):<br />
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<span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.$author"><strong>Cindy Panzico Linstrom</strong>: </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Thank you, Uncle Rod. That means a lot to me. I love you dearly :)!</span></span></span></div>
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.$author"><strong>Lori Panzico Smith</strong>: </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Thank you, Uncle Rod ! My heart is heavy too ! I can't believe it's been a year either. I so miss her ! I love you !</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.$author"><strong>LeeAnn Panzico Shows</strong>: </span><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:0"> </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$text0:0:$0:0">Thank you so much Uncle Rod</span><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">!! I went to bed with her heavy on my heart, woke in the night thinking about her, and first thing this morning:) Happy and sad tears:) Although more happy, because I can only imagine how this past year has been for her :) :) :)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"> So you see, my sister is where nothing can ever take her away from us again! Her memory is forever etched in the hearts and minds of those she loved! As will your memory remain in the hearts and minds of those you loved. I contemplate my remaining years and wonder about my legacy and how I might be remembered? Maybe we all do as we stoke the warm fires of our winter months and years. I downloaded a beautiful saying off someone's facebook wall that resonated so well within my head. I may post it on here if I can find it, but I certainly can remember what it said. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"> <em>"Nobody can go back</em></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><em> and start a new beginning,</em></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><em> but anyone can start today </em></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><em> and make a new ending."</em></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">And with the known mistakes every one of us have made in this life as we pass through, no words could ever be truer. We simply cannot erase the mistakes we have made. It does not matter if they were acts of coincidence, accidents, or a deliberate act of hatefulness against another. Oh Dear Lord, how I wish I could make right with so many, some of the things I have said and done. But I can't with some as they have now departed and with others I know not where to seek them. So if the opportunity for asking their forgiveness never presents itself, I truly pray that for their sake they desire the same resolve for peace of mind in their hearts as do I! We all need to find in the depths of our souls just how to resolve our past failures and chose that day to start that new ending for that final door we pass through. I love you, Diane. See you soon. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563431663512:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563869834466:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3e.1:3:1:$comment10205563336221126_10205563593747564:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Posted January 28. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<br />Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-15663122892599260002014-12-01T19:06:00.003-06:002015-04-05T20:46:15.181-05:00Facebook Quotes for December 2014<em>My Facebook post from 2013 started in January and ran through the entire year for twelve long months. Friends trying to keep up with it told me it was difficult to start at the beginning of the only "true blog" I keep and arrow down to the last post. This year, I will po</em><em>st my blog from one month to the next as a separate story throughout the 2014 calendar year? If you find yourself remotely interested in what goes on in my thoughts and mind, please take the time to join and let me know you are here. I personally enjoy every fingerprint that is left here and appreciate your comments even more. There are occasional short stories I do post along with my Facebook Quotes Blog so if you have the time to join, again, please do, I am still trying to figure out who my favorite fan actually is. Their name is <strong>Anonymous</strong>! No last name. Imagine that.</em><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">DECEMBER</span></strong><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVS6karilfiZjuK1og6YnAqkdIV9mD44b_dbVcPiI3U4aowUCBwgPv1vEC3WM-0LxXLM_UpzplB2pd4aEugbPVnLvAR-JNkMlyrH9LwhL1TaTGJjmTEuGrwPEW6CeSjWUyfPgaK4M8O48D/h120/black+glass+river.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="jm-O-x" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVS6karilfiZjuK1og6YnAqkdIV9mD44b_dbVcPiI3U4aowUCBwgPv1vEC3WM-0LxXLM_UpzplB2pd4aEugbPVnLvAR-JNkMlyrH9LwhL1TaTGJjmTEuGrwPEW6CeSjWUyfPgaK4M8O48D/h120/black+glass+river.jpg" style="height: 120px; left: 0px; top: 0px; transform: rotate(0deg); width: 120px;" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"> And the final chapter of 2014 begins at my river's edge on this 1st day of December. How many times have I shared that my river is calm and looks like black glass? I just wanted you to see a snapshot of her reflective peace as the world comes alive all around me. It seems that sometimes word alone cannot describe the beauty the eyes behold! This Christmas season is already reflected on Pineville's side of my River and the tall lights across the way you see reflected in the picture will evolve into 100' Christmas Trees, probably today. If I could capture this morning as it plays out before me in my heart and share the reason for this defined season with every person listening for the sound of a singing soul, there would be Peace on Earth! </span><br />
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Posted December 1 from my early morning river</div>
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I don't care what kind of Little Friskies cat food you promise me! I AM NOT going into any Kwik Pantry or 7-11 convenience store with this stupid panty hose on my head! I have no idea why this cat loves me so much, nor do I have any idea why I posted this. I've just always had a weakness for this stuff!</div>
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Posted December 4 from my home<br />
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Surreal, I might define myself this beautiful moon lit morning at my rivers edge. I think back of this past weekends events. I told Linda that I can't think of six names outside of family? Actually found away around that too. I strongly suggested it but that will be her decision, of course, at whatever time. And "What A Friend We Have In Jesus," reverberates in the recesses of my mind. Have I ever shared with you that I have always enjoyed choral music?<br />
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I had several friends that may have taken offense to my "I can't think of six names outside of family," statement. Of ever person that commented, I only had one that was tuned into what was going on in my life to figure out where my head was. I reminded my friends that <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".da.1:3:1:$comment10205104819278489_10205110168772223:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".da.1:3:1:$comment10205104819278489_10205110168772223:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".da.1:3:1:$comment10205104819278489_10205110168772223:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">I said good by to a couple of friends this past weekend. As I commented to Linda on the way back from one of those funerals, I seriously pondered that question this morning here at my river. Who <u>is</u> rreally close enough to me that would <u>want</u> to be my pallbearer? That was the question that was parlayed mostly in riddle form. And if Linda has me cremated, that would eliminate the stress of someone doing what they might not want to do, pallbearer me around. Yes, I have many wonderful friends, but seriously? Who really wants to do stuff like that?</span></span></span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".da.1:3:1:$comment10205104819278489_10205110168772223:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".da.1:3:1:$comment10205104819278489_10205110168772223:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".da.1:3:1:$comment10205104819278489_10205110168772223:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Posted December 8</span></span></span><br />
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I have sat around for the later part of this calendar year wondering just why my friend base seemed to be eroding! As I read the following posted caption, I figured it out! Laughing. If you are just learning that every personality that skips by you on social media may not fit into your warped standards, drain the tub and start over. It is healthy in a mental sort of way. Here is what it said:<br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">You gotta learn how to drop people with no warning...</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;">We are getting too old to explain to people what they <u>know</u> they're doing wrong...</span></em><br />
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Now, with that being set before me like my mother's chocolate pie, I sat back and smiled with amazement as the "buts" became evident... One of my favorites from the Shreveport time zone nailed it, "<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205084588172724:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205084588172724:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205084588172724:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Besides, at our age, we don't care what we're doing wrong." Ya think? When you have bonded in friendship through like thoughts, you really do not care what you say or do wrong and even if you do this, it is usually not even noticed by the other party! At least that's the way it is with me, anyway. However, the comments continue. My published friend in Monroe weighs in. "<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205085203228100:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205085203228100:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205085203228100:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">It's also healthy in a spiritual way. There's a big difference between a friend and an acquaintance that doesn't care to walk with you thru life. But I like having both. Perhaps the acquaintance will become a friend." I cannot help but agree with her as this is so very true. Maybe they will become a friend... The learning curve is, <em>You gotta learn</em>! Some simply aren't worth the efforts required at <em><u>my</u></em> age to gel a friendship at this stage in both of our lives! At least to me anyway... It continues. One of my DFW favorites simply laughed at me and said, "<span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205110170772273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:0"> </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205110170772273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205110170772273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205110170772273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Lol! Rod, you always have such a way with words!" I sent her a smiley face and let it rest. Then one of my favorites from the last millennium entered the fray with what I perceived as a heart felt concern. "<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205114131271283:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205114131271283:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205114131271283:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Don't drain me , please... I can just picture myself going down the drain with the last soap bubble... Sometimes I'm talkative and sometimes I'm not... It doesnt mean I don't still love ya! *sniff, making sad eyes*" With these words tapping my shoulder asking for an explanation,</span></span></span> I trust my DFW friend's jest rings true as I attempt to have my way with words in explanation:</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205084588172724:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205084588172724:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205084588172724:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205085203228100:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205085203228100:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205085203228100:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205110170772273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205110170772273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205110170772273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205084588172724:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205084588172724:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205084588172724:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205085203228100:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205085203228100:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205085203228100:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205110170772273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205110170772273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205110170772273:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205115427823696:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205115427823696:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205115427823696:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205115427823696:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">Dear Precious Friend (I called her by name on my facebook post...) You are perfectly safe in my existing world, and have been for a considerable period of time. What is it now, say 46 years or so? For the sake of many, let me see if I might categorize those people that could meet the criteria of your soap bubble analysis. If you have 1000 friends on facebook </span></span><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205115427823696:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205115427823696:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".df.1:3:1:$comment10205084534371379_10205115427823696:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0">or more, clearly I would never be noticed on a newsfeed of such great proportion. These collective people have absolutely no time for me or anyone else for that matter to justify a "social" relationship with, as there are simply too many lined up for attention. Here is another "soap bubble" at risk of finding the drain... Check out your friend list. How many do you have with maybe 15 to 25 friends? And of course the next question. When was the last time you heard from them? They recognized your name long enough to make a friend request, yet never cared enough to grow a relationship! And of course my most favorite, take the plunger and purge them. Those that have major problems with that left/right thing, like me! I am way too far to the right to deal with bull feces and those that believe it! I don't understand the left, don't want to understand the left, will never attempt to compromise with them and wish they never existed! All 5 of them I have encountered are currently existing on my blocked list and there they will remain. If you have those, family included, pull the plug and wash your wall with Clorox and no one will ever miss them. They will not miss you either. And oh my soul, the chronic poster. *sigh* I know this is a social sight, but hey, this is where my guilt lies. I am sure I have been that soap bubble you speak of in so many people's tub as they drained my stupid river, mockingbird, and urban noise comments down their bathtub drain, re-inserted the stopper to keep me from re-surfacing only to flush their toilet to make sure it received that extra push into another affluent water source! lol That's ok... You see, we both have been around long enough to know that people, reasonably sane people that exist in the real world, actually build fences to separate themselves from their despised neighbor. I know this 8' wooden privacy fence is being installed to protect them from my dog and my dog from them, right? Now, here is something else for you. When someone I know and can identify with "goes dark" on this form of social media, I may seldom notice even for weeks or months. If they mean something to me, they will eventually discover a private message has suddenly appeared in their private mailbox! Yes! That has happened to you, has it not? <span aria-hidden="true" class="emoticon_text">:-)</span><span class="emoticon emoticon_smile" title=":-)"></span> And there are other classifications of folks that I also find marginal... The bi-polar types? You never know if it is PMS, or some other sort of psychotic disorder like psychopathic vs sociopathic rants that affect your comfort zone or crush your head with misspelled bad words. You just one day realized they have managed to exceed the limits of your medication and you no longer want them around. Go through your list occasionally. I just found my own son was not a facebook friend anymore. He deleted his account. Go figure! Just deal with the fact ya gotta drop people from time to time without warning! We are too old to explain to them what they are doing wrong. And seriously? Would they even show up at your funeral?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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Posted December 9, 2014<br />
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On December 10, I had Carpel Tunnel surgery performed on both hands. I figured if Linda could have both of her knees replaced back in July, then certainly I could have both wrist corrected and over with. I did, and it worked. I am sitting here informing myself and those that follow my blog, why I have been so silent the last couple of weeks. Now you know. I am fine! Never had a problem going to the toilet nor did I have to ask my wife for assistance! Even though I prefer cats, dogs are actually more practical in correlated circumstances! I mean seriously, you think I would even consider the sandpaper tongue of a cat? Awe shut up and smile! Every person that I talked to wondered how I wiped my butt with both hands wrapped up! I go in Monday morning, the 29th of December to have an injection in my left shoulder. MRI found a tear in my Labium and we are hoping an injection along with Anti-Inflammatory medication will eliminate the need for surgery there. I am ready to start shooting again! So, if you are dealing with Carpal Tunnel, get it done. I dealt with the suffering long enough and it was well worth the minor inconvenience...<br />
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Posted as a filler on December 25<br />
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Christmas morning is in action in homes all around us. I watched the morning awake with Meggie curled up in my lap. Mrs. Santa completed her work after her "helper" gave up the spirit around midnight. Some time around threeish, I made my way to the media room and sat there covered in my LSU blanket smiling at the "bounty" that magically collected over night under the lighted bows of our Christmas tree. Down the hallway I just heard the hair dryer engaged so it won't be long before Linda makes me dress warml<span class="text_exposed_show">y as she chases me outside to fry a big ole turkey for Christmas dinner that is annually planned around one or this afternoon. That feasting usually goes fast as the grandkids anxiously wait to see what Poppy and Punya collected for their amusement! I do enjoy that time. The excitement, as I go back years to my youth and wonder how my mom and dad did all of this for my sisters and me. These memory trips back to my childhood certainly helps define the word "blessed!" For that, we are, my many friends and acquaintances. Merry Christmas to all of you on this day we celebrate as the birth day of our Christ. What a gift we received!</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted December 25 from my early morning home</span><br />
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And finally, the last page of the last chapter of my 2014 collection of facebook quotes has arrived. It is a Wednesday workday for me. I sat and reviewed December 31 of 2013, to remind myself of where I was and what was going on. Oh, I well remembered, but reading through it I discovered that post was actually more of a thank you to everyone and more of a hope for the coming new year. As I exist at this time, at this moment of this year, I collectively post my thoughts from 31 December of 2014... I drove to Slidell, Louisiana to spend the night with my cousin Al. I was last down visiting with him the weekend following Thanksgiving. He told me as we sipped coffee on his deck the Saturday following Thanksgiving that I should see how beautiful the New Year's sky was from this spot when the New Year rang in. I took him at his word inviting myself back for the festivities! I brought with me, Linda and my oldest grand daughter, Mckinzi, or Kbear as many of you know her. It was a perfect night for celebration! No fog, no clouds, only a cold, blowing north wind. As the last five minutes of 2014 became history, Al's description of the sky line was not an imagined projection. Somewhere around the 1 minute before until 1 minute into the new year of 2015, the world before us exploded into bright colors and accompanied the cacophony rapport of distant cracks, cackles and booms. Linda gazed upon the spectacle of exploding fireworks from the warmth of the third floor bedroom window as Mckinzi, Al and I hunkered down on the second floor deck deflecting the bite of the blowing winds while mesmerized by the display unfolding before us! Kind of like that crazy wild ride at some amusement park somewhere in our life. It doesn't last long, but it will live forever in our memories... Breath taking...<br />
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And thus the final chapter of 2014 closed as I walked back into the warmth of Al's beautiful home on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain. Where I was this time last year and where I found myself at this moment was a question that ran through my mind. I tried to answer it the best I could. I do know this year there was a comforting peace. Yes, a peace of knowing at that moment, all was well in my world. My 30th year with Linda was before me, yet to be defined and that I was holding tight to memories past more than I did the faces of those I made them with. We all simply move on until we are no more. I knew my 2014 was beginning with expected but yet to be defined realities. Today is like a fresh snowfall or stretched canvas just waiting for the Master to reveal His plan. This time next year, this blank canvas I speak of will be filled. Thanks to all of you that might be reading this for the prayers you shared with and for me, the encouragement you gave me, and especially for holding tight to that thread of friendship that bound us together! What a ride!<br />
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Rod Ferguson<br />
December 31, 2014<br />
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Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-2712017569808121172014-11-14T17:09:00.001-06:002014-11-15T22:07:31.254-06:00What Day is Veterans Day? If I might begin this short story with a collection of Googled historical facts, please allow me. Fighting ceased in the "war to end all wars" between allied and German forces when an Armistice or temporary cessation of combat went into effect during the 11th month on the 11th day at the 11th hour in the year of 1918. Just a little over 7 months later, WWI officially ended on June 28, 1919 with the signing of the Treaty of Versailles. The following November of 1919, President Wilson proclaimed November 11 as Armistice Day providing for parades, public meetings, and even the suspension of business across America at the 11th hour of the day. It wasn't until June 4, 1926 that Congress confirmed November 11th to be a legal holiday with a resolution that was passed which required the Flag of the United States to appear on all government buildings on this day. Finally on May 13, 1938, the eleventh day of the eleventh month with emphasis on the eleventh hour of that calendar year, Armistice Day was declared a National Holiday to be set aside for this country to celebrate World Peace. The War that was to "End All Wars" was the catapult for not just America but the entire world to show tribute to the veterans, the men and women that participated in the last war as mankind tried to define it! You see, WWI was not the first war this country had engaged, nor would it be America's last. In reality, this young republic had witnessed from the American revolution through WWI a total of 43 wars, campaigns, and military engagements, all of which helped define the word Veteran.<br />
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While the United States Congress was busy giving us a paid Federal Holiday in 1938, the drums of war were already pounding in the far East as the Empire of Japan was aggressively engaged in China. The Nazi Party had taken control of the Christian Nation of Germany with their socialist poison as these developing war machines too, were ignored by a passive nation suffering through the historic title we now define as the Great Depression. Even as WWI ended, and the massage of Armistice Day to Veterans Day was modified but yet to be defined, this country involved it's countrymen in 3 more conflicts before we were forced to define yet another generation of American Veterans. We know them today as our country's "Greatest Generation" not only because of the <em>sacrifices</em> of the fighting men and women, but the war machine that stayed behind to insure another victory in yet another war we came to know as WWII. Now, our government no longer tried to resolve history's lessons by saying WWII would be our last war. No indeed. In fact, there were 3 more skirmishes that cost American lives before our Government tried to stop the halt of Communism in South Korea. Following the Armistice that ended the Korean Conflict in July of 1953, America's Congress moved one more time on June 1, 1954, finally defining November 11 as Veterans Day. It was then and is today our way of honoring the surviving American Veterans of her wars! <br />
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And these little wars, campaigns, and skirmishes continued to line up, one behind another as men and women did and still do to this day, write a blank check for their lives made payable to the elected leadership of the United States of America. There we find the words, "All gave some and some gave all," ringing in our ears as the annual celebration of Veterans Day comes only to pass until the next year. Just how many gave their today for your tomorrow? From the end of the Korean Conflict until Vietnam, American played host to the cold war in the USSR and China. Vietnam is what I define as "my generation's" war. I wrote my check to the United States Government in November of 1971. That oath I took, to defend the Constitution of the United States against Enemy's Foreign and Domestic, <strong><em>Never Expires!</em></strong> That same heart beat exists within the soul of every surviving veteran across this country. We that have survived, lived, and prospered from the sacrifice of so many, recognize the "sanctity" of this day set aside for just us, Veterans Day. Where Vietnam may have defined my generation's war, there were 18 more of those little wars, campaigns, and skirmishes that rounded out the 20th Century. <br />
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Let us move into the 21st century. You see, I never dreamed that Veterans Day could ever be redefined or more finely focused as it became for me on September 11, 2001. I was concerned in 1990 and 1991 when the liberation of Kuwait or Gulf War kicked off. I remember my oldest adopted son was a sophomore in High School. He came running into my Nursery and Landscape office all excited exclaiming we were dropping bombs in the middle east and kicking some serious butt. I knew it was going to happen, just caught off guard by his excitement. I looked at him, acknowledged his innocent excitement and walked into the dark night behind my office where I tried to fight back tears that came into my eyes. In the darkness, I prayed for those kindred spirits of active duty military I knew would carry the title of veteran and share this holiday with me for the rest of their life if they came home. Ten years passed in the blink of an eye. I had three boys that I had adopted when Linda and I married and not once was I ever concerned about their involvement with the military. What you, the reader should know, is that I was an Active Duty Army Reservist in the United States Army when the Gulf War started. This war gave my National Defense Service Medal a gold star that complimented my Vietnam Era service. Sitting in the second grade at this time was my own flesh and blood that thought his Dad helped God hang the moon. I knew what being a veteran and active duty military meant to me and everything in his life from the day his mother left us when he was 16 months old, was geared into directing his path down a military avenue of some sort. Then I find myself sitting at the foot of my bed watching hi-jacked airliners fly into the World Trade Centers. Ten short years from the second grade I sat there realizing he had just finished his Tactical Air Control Party Training in the United States Air Force and Basic Airborne Training at Ft Benning, Georgia. He was home on leave before reporting to his first duty station at Pope Air Force Base, NC next door to Fort Bragg. Oh that cocky grin as he looked at me, slapped my leg, and said, "Looks like my generation finally got our war too, Dad!" I wanted to puke, and the next decade was yet to be defined.<br />
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During this 10 year run, I sat back and watched my son progress through the ranks and hone his military skills through many schools offered in his career path as a professional NCO. Along the way he added the distinguished Army Ranger Tab to his shoulder and became HALO qualified while attached to the 1/75th Ranger Battalion in Savannah, GA. 9 times I watched him go in and come out of harms way and will never forget the phone call from Germany when his voice told me, "Well dad, the war is over for me now, and I'm not sure what to do!" Tears right now as I remember his words realizing WAR was the only thing he knew! But he was my veteran now. He had achieved every dream I ever had and both of us survived and I thank God. I can define veteran now from every perspective and take it from me, that of a parent is the hardest, yet most cherished. He is relatively safe now as his heart, soul, and mind heal in the Arctic cold of Alaska. Veterans Day certainly has not lost significance to me, not at all, folks! I started blogging in 2011 and this is the first time I've neglected to comment or share anything with my friends on this "hallowed day" set aside for Veterans. <br />
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You see, this day did not slip by me this year. As Veterans Day approached, I realized that I am surrounded by Veterans. They are from every walk of life, every nationality, race, and gender. They exist among my every day surrounds! Those Veterans that a piece of legislation demands of us to take time off and rest only seems we are honoring "at" them instead of for them. Once you write that check to Uncle Sam and you watch your own flesh and blood follow your lead with their own life, things change in your heart. Songs like:<br />
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Radney Foster's, "Angel Flight," <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nO3rrPHQwbs">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nO3rrPHQwbs</a><br />
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Billy Ray Cyrus', "Some Gave All," <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MoYZYWTPGM0">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MoYZYWTPGM0</a><br />
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and "The Star Spangled Banner," <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ETrr-XHBjE">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ETrr-XHBjE</a> <br />
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Every one of them seem to take on an entirely new meaning! Go ahead and click on each one if you wish to feel the impact of this short story. Tell me please, what did it do to you? There is an entire boulevard at Louisiana College of Natchez White Crepe Myrtles planted by classmates and students of that institution in honor of SSG Robert Sweeney, III. He was one of the first to give all in this war against terrorism stating that, "Those people that died in those twin towers didn't sign their name on a piece of paper to give their life for this country, but I did!" That young man gave that day so you could have this one! I along with many others will never forget this young man, yet the time will come that another generation will not know "why those trees exist," and simply admire their beauty and cool themselves under their shade during a future summer's heat. <br />
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I did not suffer in the jungles of my generation's war. I did write my name on that check made payable to Uncle Sam and he saw fit to use me as he did many others elsewhere. I will not forget the footprints left on American soil of the men and women whose footprints were last left on foreign soils. Those people, those would be Veterans had they lived, made my tomorrow possible and for that, every single day I live I will celebrate at Veterans Day. Did you get that? Every single day? As I exited my city vehicle this very day to take the City of Pineville's deposit into the bank, I tilted my head against the 36 degree winds of global warming. As I approached the doors, a lady that looked to be somewhere around my age held the door open for a frail gentleman, of many years, to exit. Upon his head was a purple cap adorned with the Purple Heart. I immediately knew him, a veteran of WWII, possibly Korea. As I approached him gently, I told him that I wanted to thank him. He asked me not to squeeze him too hard, thinking that was my intention. I smiled and said I just wanted to thank him for his service to me and this country. It was him that smiled and squeezed me. He then asked, "what do you think of this cold weather?" I couldn't help but reply, "I thank God for it this early. It will make my peaches sweeter this spring." He said, "enjoy one for me, son!" I felt the meaning of his words. I knew the meaning behind them. He will probably not be with us this spring, but his memory will! For me, this was just one more "Veteran's Day." I am looking forward to the one tomorrow as well as that first bite into a big Juicy Peach this coming spring. <br />
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As of today, America's battlefields have yielded 1,321,612 killed, 1,531,046 wounded and the Old Guard at Arlington National Cemetery hold in honor our unknown and soldiers missing in action that total 38,159. So remember this number if you have read this far. 2,756,150 reasons why we are where we are today. It is there. Wikipedia.org. United States Military Casualties of War. <br />
<br />
Rod Ferguson<br />
November 14, 2014<br />
cwg<br />
<br />
<br />Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-16097015743351487122014-11-06T21:44:00.001-06:002014-12-01T20:03:04.804-06:00Facebook Quotes for November 2014<strong><span style="font-size: large;">November</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-size: large;"></span></strong><br />
This afternoon's conversation resolved itself in the late evening after I started with a simple comment while walking laps at Pineville High School Stadium. Only thing I hate worse than these long 24 laps at the high school track is being fat! Stab me in the neck! Last lap! With that said, my friends seemed to encourage my resolve. My friend Linda in Shreveport encouraged me to "<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Keep up the good work," and Beverly in Monroe chimed in "<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">keep up the good fight lol!" Knowing she had just recently asked for prayer because of a health set back of her own, I responded to both saying, "<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">I have to, ladies. I'm still fat! Not as, but still. Lol. Thank you for your encouragement. And Beverly? I have remembered you in my prayers. You do what you need to do, too! Beverly told me thanks, and that she felt much better today. And thus we began to share</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"> My high school friend Kent, in Baton Rouge asked, "<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Doesn't it feel good when you finish that last lap?" I couldn't lie. I told the truth to the best of my ability! "<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Absolutely, Kent! I get to eat more for supper when I exercise." He then encouraged me to be sure that I <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">the right things. He shared that he walks at least 3 miles a day and is still losing weight, stating he was down by about 65 pounds with only 15 pounds to go before he achieved his goal. Of course I was surprised and told him that <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">we are parallel with each other. I was down 70 pounds to 239. My goal is 225 and the closest I've gotten so far is 236. and that I had weighed 240 just a few ago after this workout... Of course with our exchange on the facebook format there are the usual likes that basically acknowledges agreement.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"> A friend I have grown close to over the last several months is a lady I refer to as my Conservative Yankee, Suzanne. As she scanned mine and Kent's exchange, she chimed in stating, "<span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:0"> </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">I was fit and very thin years ago...all that exercise destroyed my knees, ankles and feet. Now my aerobic exercise is hoisting my considerable heft with two arms and one arthritic leg (due to dancing/aerobics) to keep from any weight on the torn ligament in my right foot. Sigh." Why could I so easily identify from her statement from the suffering I alone experience from my abused left ankle that has been broken four times? Kent shared another tone of achievement and encouragement when he posted, "<span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:0"> </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">I am trying to get to 170. My A1c is good as well as cholesterol and triglycerides, but I think I would feel better at the 170 mark. I hope we can both keep it up. Diabetes is a terrible disease." Feeling Suzanne's words as Kent's statement rebounded through my head, I had to share with them my feelings about what we were beating around the bush, discussing. Old Age and the resounding effects it was having physically and psychologically on us. It is going to happen to all of us, but here is my resolve and to the best of my ability this is what I chose for me.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"> <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">I will still not go gentle into that good night. What health challenges are presently laying dormant that will eventually raise its ugly head to torment me, I'm sure, in the winter months of my life. I well know the feeling of those destroyed nerves in my feet, compliments of dia</span></span><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0">betes. The memory of angina attacks on my 43 year old system 20 years ago are not forgotten. And any day now, I am expecting my pharmacy to honor me with an Alaskan Cruise as I alone pay the annual salary's of two of their pharmacist! But still I will try to offset the inevitable until time expires... That time does approach and health issues have given me subliminal hints as to just how my demise might possibly be entertained. Still I will not rule out the possibility of a motorcycle crash, parachute malfunction or unfortunate snake bite in my back yard. Until whatever or whomever witnesses my last heartbeat, it is my intention to live life the very best I possibly can...</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"> Suzanne immediately responded and said, "Lovely post, Rod, my friend. And, as I used to say in the old days, right on," accompanied by an emoticon smiley face. She finished by saying, "<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Isn't it good that, no matter what our bodies fail at, we are still young?" And she was absolutely correct! In our hearts, we are what we feel, thus my argument for none of us to go gentle into that good night. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"> So as to encourage Suzanne and myself, I felt motivated to add, <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">Something is gonna get us, Suzanne... Just live life the best you know how! I try my very best to avoid liberals and keep Linda happy within the co-existence of our shared space. I deliberately shelve the choices and neglect I receive from the children I did my best to raise</span></span><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"> and enjoy my grand children the best I can until they grow beyond their need for me. The very best time for me and grandchild interaction is when they are potty trained "fully" without chance of accidents and before they reach puberty... For you see, after puberty, it is well advised these brain damaged children heed the warnings of their parents as they caution them of the hazards/dangers this ageing old man could inflict on their present well being if they interject their untrained social skills on seasoned and expected protocols! As long as they come into my presence, remember to bow low in humble humility and respect, might their promise of longevity increase.. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"> Even though I've not seen a picture of the lady, I could imagine Suzanne reading my statement in her late autumn Blue State somewhere up there in the Northeast, smiling as she remarked. "You are so right Rod. I'd love to live my life over again, but I'm content with the way things are. I'm ok with leaving. And I love your assessment of grandchildren. The best thing that ever happened to me, but I will let their parents, my children clean up the poop. Love your assessment !!!! </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>You are so right Rod. I'd love to live my life over again, but I'm content with the way things are. I'm ok with leaving. And I love your assessment of grandchildren. The best thing that ever happened to me, but I will let their parents, my children clean up the poop. Love your assessment!!!! She slipped in on private message the last of our evenings exchange saying, "<br />
<div data-reactid=".10w.$mid=11415327360800=219616c3105c65b8616.2:0.0.0.0">
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data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895836454049:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".10w.$mid=11415327360800=219616c3105c65b8616.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".10w.$mid=11415327360800=219616c3105c65b8616.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".10w.$mid=11415327360800=219616c3105c65b8616.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">No need to reply. Love the way your mind works, Rod. God bless you. Kindred spirit.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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As our even closed and chatter diminished toward the 10:00pm hour, Suzanne slipped <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895836454049:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">in her last note to me on private message saying, "<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".10w.$mid=11415327360800=219616c3105c65b8616.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".10w.$mid=11415327360800=219616c3105c65b8616.2:0.0.0.0.0.0"><span data-reactid=".10w.$mid=11415327360800=219616c3105c65b8616.2:0.0.0.0.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">No need to reply. Love the way your mind works, Rod. God bless you. Kindred spirit." And I close this first blog entry in November praying just that. May God bless us all...</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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Posted November 6 from my late evening home. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPw-oCwp5vSRb3lmzMmWU5UEbsBvcW3aLg47wcDOd2MTdrfq1cwAZFZyDubc3EkQ3Dc6uTUg5a3-bNX0sYum0AjLd4AlJHtYNe-FT635i0iXgXDeiqCk0tOKPnWXVet3uE8YIHeJ_2aLE/s1600/Riverfog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiPw-oCwp5vSRb3lmzMmWU5UEbsBvcW3aLg47wcDOd2MTdrfq1cwAZFZyDubc3EkQ3Dc6uTUg5a3-bNX0sYum0AjLd4AlJHtYNe-FT635i0iXgXDeiqCk0tOKPnWXVet3uE8YIHeJ_2aLE/s1600/Riverfog.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a><br />
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A photograph from an iPhone just doesn't capture the beauty Intelligent Design allows our eyes to process through visual stimuli. As my cold frosty morning became focused, I marveled at the glistening white frost as it blanketed the grounds. As the rising sun held my River hostage in her morning colors, the warm waters emitted tall towers of water vapor to distill in the 24 degree temperature. As I watched this unfold, I wanted to share it with you. It is beautiful here this morning but even still, I am not sitting here in my car with my windows down and motor turned off listening for my mockingbird! Thanksgiving should be like Veterans Day. Every day of our life. I am speaking of thanksgiving to our Lord God...<br />
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Posted November19 from my early morning river<br />
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It is a beautiful sunny 50° day here on my patio. As a high-pressure front dominates this fall day, I sit here and listen to the hiss of propane gas and enjoy the smell of my frying turkey as it completes its last few minutes before it's Thanksgiving day serving. As the winds of this dominant front Chills my shaved head, I reflect on the bright colors the leaves of this season's fall has blessed us with. The vibrant reds of the Bradford pear and the yellow tint of the fading Golden Raintree are just a few as my Red Oak drops leaves upon me from this steady breeze. For some reason I have heard the call of the wild geese this year on several occasions as opposed to others, turning my head in their direction to watch the choreographed Vee shape disappear from view. Thanksgiving day. I am content despite the turmoil that exist in our world. I pray all of my friends and acquaintances enjoy the blessings freedom offers and understand in your heart the reason we give thanks for those very blessings.<br />
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Posted Thanksgiving Morning November 27<br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894373697481:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894418818609:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204894938191593:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895168397348:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895332361447:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895344721756:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895356082040:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895571887435:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895717371072:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895751771932:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895775852534:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895822173692:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895836454049:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895836454049:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".10g.1:3:1:$comment10204894241134167_10204895836454049:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-10315330146023243552014-10-05T20:34:00.000-05:002014-12-13T17:48:37.468-06:00Facebook Quotes for October 2014<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>OCTOBER</strong></span><br />
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As the harvest month establishes itself in our 2014 calendar minds, I find myself taking a Friday vacation and head out to the North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain to spend some time with my 1st cousin, Al. I get a late Thursday afternoon start and somewhere around Bunkie, LA on I-49 I make this comment on facebook: It looks like my cousin is gonna get me on that "Fat Boy" after all. After thinking about that for a minute or so I commented, Oh well, at least no one knows me down there. Unknown to many of my facebook friends, the root of my comment went over their heads except for the tuned and attentive mindset that exist amongst a certain set of knowledgeable peers. One of my close Honda Goldwing riding friends, Darryll commented a tone of comfort. "<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".a9.1:3:1:$comment10204623381722851_10204625431214087:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".a9.1:3:1:$comment10204623381722851_10204625431214087:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".a9.1:3:1:$comment10204623381722851_10204625431214087:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">It's ok, Rod. I've ridden a couple of them harleys, you'll get over it." So there ya have it. A "Fat Boy" is a Harley Davidson Motorcycle and the same friendly argument exist between Wing Riders and Harley Riders as does the reigning Chevrolet/Ford feud...</span></span></span><br />
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Posted October 2 in the afternoon hours <br />
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Many times have I watched the day begin from the deck of my cousins home on the North Shore. A special blessing this morning as a gray overcast announces Fall's first cold front down here. The peppering rain appears to be our daily companion as brown Pelicans, Terns and Sea Gulls ignore the persistent pelting in pursuit of their daily sustenance. Al has told me their is a Bald Eagle that is appearing more frequently in the wetlands that border his residence. Such peace I find down here.<br />
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Posted October 3 in the early am hours<br />
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I have often wondered if Facebook posts really work to your advantage or does the incessant posting of your personal who, what, when and where's seem to drive folks away from you. I tend to believe the latter, however, there are the exceptions! I'm laying in bed surfing Facebook at my cousin's home on the North Shore of Lake Pontchartrain. My I-phone rang about 10 minutes ago and it was Nona, my youngest sibling. She knows from my facebook post that I am in Slidell visiting with our cousin, Al. So she calls me. She informs me that she and her honey, Paul are passing through Rayville, LA on their way to New Orleans with 4 Saints tickets for Sunday's <span class="text_exposed_show">noon ballgame at the Superdome! She was "<em>wondering</em>" if Al and I MIGHT be interested in the other two tickets??? I tried to calmly express a slight interest in gaining possession of them, but felt I needed to "ask" Alvin if such an undertaking might be of interest to him? Alvin said, "Heck yeah let's go!" So I called my sweet baby sister back and expressed gratitude and sincere appreciation by accepting her generous offer! Immediate plans were made for us to meet Nona and Paul tonight somewhere in the vicinity of Pat O'Brian's Piano Bar and the N.O. Marriott to mingle with the crowds in the French Quarter and feast at some fabled restaurant of Louisiana Folklore. Al calls me back and suggested a side trip via Gulfport, Ms. to the annual "Cruzin the Coast" car rally. Sounds like things are looking up! Looks like my Facebook musings do have their gainful advantages after all. Of course, little sisters are wonderful too! Wonder if I can carry concealed in the superdome?</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted October 4 from Slidell, LA</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Sweet Sister in the Court yard of <br />
Two Sister Creole Restaurant</td></tr>
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Al and I are leaving the French Quarter after a wonderful dinner with Nona and Paul in the leafy cover of the open air dining at the Court of Two Sisters Creole Restaurant! What a wonderful memory! Contrary to what I may have thought, I did not hear the discharge of even one illegally possessed firearm the entire time I interlaced with seemingly every culture in the world! As we were crossing over the Mississippi River headed back to Slidell, I shared my thoughts with my cousin. Understand now, he operated a business for 20 years on the second floor of the JAX Brewery there in the French Quarter! He looked at me and smiled and told me it was a tad too early despite the 10:45 pm time. He then asked if I wanted to go back and hang out a little longer and find out? I shook my head in the negative and said, "I don't think so, not tonight!" It dawned on me I was finally embracing the wisdom that my seventh decade of existence has bestowed upon me. There was a time...<br />
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Posted October 4 in the late evening hours.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiafOTrOAj_MgbbW316x_239WGnUBZi-GO8_5105a-Z61b1giw77z0McOGSSDMH6nlOuTtzuUML_-gHqqgeDJq75QfIecdH3kmL4Wu7eo2FdqG2mtWbKbM0XHiVm7_U_SCm89JV7tFeEsGQ/s1600/035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiafOTrOAj_MgbbW316x_239WGnUBZi-GO8_5105a-Z61b1giw77z0McOGSSDMH6nlOuTtzuUML_-gHqqgeDJq75QfIecdH3kmL4Wu7eo2FdqG2mtWbKbM0XHiVm7_U_SCm89JV7tFeEsGQ/s1600/035.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a> Sunrise on the North Shore, hot coffee and a crisp 48° start! It is much quieter here than my river but you can still hear the sound of singing tires a mile away as the waters of Lake Pontchartrain allows for the unrestricted sounds of singing tires traveling I-10's passage over this great body of water. The real sun kissed my face at 6:58 am, but I have yet to feel it's warmth. In 30 minutes or so after its full presentation over its horizon, it's radiating heat and brightness has been known to drive me resentfully, back inside the comforts of the residence. I have often found it strange how these brackish waters seem to not stimulate my thought like that of my<span class="text_exposed_show"> river? Rising from my chair, I spit from the second floor balcony into the water below and small fish dart to investigate the disturbance upon the surface. I stare in quiet thought and find myself shaking my head at that disgusting act! Oh well, I've been swallowing it for 63 years and it hasn't killed me yet. Strangely this morning there are no Terns, Sea Gulls or Brown Pelican's gracing the fly ways above the waters of this cloudless morning? But yet the beauty of my very presence in this moment places me on the front row of God's announcement of yet another day of his gift to us all. May all of you embrace this day with enthusiasm. As I fling what is left of the now cold coffee from my cup into the water below, the same reaction to the disturbance is observed! I think these fish are accustomed to Dark Roast Community Coffee. </span><br />
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Posted October 5 at sunrise<br />
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Slight disappointment sets in, as I slide to a stop beside my river's edge at 5:15 this morning. The 71° temperature along with other circumstantial meteorological factors that I don't quiet understand has presented me with a comfortable blanket of fog! At this very moment, occurring as I type, the earth's shadow is being cast across the moons surface creating the "blood moon" I so desired to see. It is ok, I guess, to miss this visually as I am sure it will be captured through the le<span class="text_exposed_show">ns of many cameras to be displayed across the pages of countless periodicals for me to review. But to me, that is kinda like someone telling you they love you over the phone. There is nothing like feeling their heartbeat against your chest when those words are actually spoken. So I missed the event as the hidden universe returns to normal beyond my visual reach, and at 5:36 my mockingbird announces his presence in my beginning day. Let me pause my ramblings and see why God "really" brought me to this river's bank so early.</span><br />
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As the day passed and the day's light fell below the western horizon, it began to prepare us mentally for the last vestiges of the closing day. It was during this time, I noticed a small collection of eight friends had actually commented on my post. It once bothered me that my number of attentive souls interested in my postings seemed to decrease over the last few months. But what I came to understand, were those that did take the time to engage, many times saw "more" in my words than those that have lost interest. This may be the <em>one</em> thing that drives me to write? I am reminded that I just may have another chance the following night to view the solar eclipse of the earth's shadow across the moon. Others confirmed their distaste with the cloudy/foggy weather presentation and confirmed my findings as well acknowledging as did I that photos of the event will be captured in order to resolve our wonder of the event we sought. There were those that confirmed their rise that morning to witness the same thing that drove me to my river bank while some smiled acknowledging the same!<br />
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Optimism exists among friends new and old as encouragement through various media reaches me. I am reminded my moon is high and most beautiful on the first evening following the visited morning just past. I knew she would be there, as often times I gaze upon her as she presents herself in whatever stage she exists in my sky. I most enjoy her in complete fullness as her radiance makes the early dew glisten in the darkest corners of my surroundings. Things seem to come to life, especially memories. I responded with this on my accompanying comments: "<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".jk.1:3:1:$comment10204674072990101_10204680928601487:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".jk.1:3:1:$comment10204674072990101_10204680928601487:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".jk.1:3:1:$comment10204674072990101_10204680928601487:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">I saw the moon tonight and the moon saw me. She expressed her sincere sorrow for the fog that obstructed her display of celestial proportions this morning that she said, was just for me." The response I received was not a facetious slap at my possible perceived arrogance others may have read into my response. They simply acknowledged my statement in question followed by fact. Your moon spoke to you? Aren't you special... "Yes," I responded. "Actually I am." That I can have a personal relationship with an inanimate object that is a constant reminder of some of the most beautiful things ever encountered in my life! My word folkses. How many of you recognize the many ways the Creator of this constant earthly companion, speaks to and comforts our hearts? A certain handful actually understood, as only one confirmed my last post on facebook with his "Like." I felt the others agree with him as they too, understood... It is more than just a moon. </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted October 8 from the banks of my early morning river</span><br />
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It is not uncommon for a boat to disturb the glassy surface of my pre-dawn river. This morning an expensive bass boat pierced the darkness at what appeared to be 55+ mph! While this is an acceptable speed on land, on water at that speed is somewhat different, especially without the benefit of any running lights at all? And he was quiet!! I heard his bow slashing through the waters surface and only after he passed did his non-labored motor audibly announce it.s part of that expensive package<span class="text_exposed_hide">.</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> No sooner had I typed these words, another bass boat passes by! She however, clearly displayed her navigational lights as she too intersected my paused reprise while hastily gaining ground of that anticipated honey spot her operator seeks. Not as quiet or as fast as the one that pierced the darkness minutes earlier but fast enough still to get the fisher person to their designed sweet spot. 6:50 am and a jackhammer pounds across my river's depths? Not a common sound this early even in an urban setting unless a broken water main demanded the noisy invasion of yet another sound of unusually heard man made clutter sounds of city dwellers this early. The siren? Strangely silent this morning as I have not heard one as of yet. Let this be a good thing.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted October 9 from the banks of my early morning river</span><br />
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What is different this morning? October 10 and 73° at my river's side, with a relative humidity of 99%! The irony? Sitting here in the pre-dawn with little beads of sweat forming across my forehead. Wondering just why my river's surface is so disturbed in the less than 3mph winds out of the south-southwest. Then it dawns on me. Just across the river in a stand of trees is the vocal retort of my mockingbird. The humidity is so heavy that the projected song he released, splashed into the water and as it traveled at the speed of sound to reach me, literally skipped across the water's surface three times before it got to me! So that's it! Every sound is disturbing my river's surface because of this humidity! Must be, cause ain't no Mosquitoes even bothering me. They ain't able to fly!!<br />
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Posted October 10 from my early morning river<br />
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As an NRA instructor and Concealed Handgun Permit holder, I am very cognizant of the responsibility I have in both possessing a lethal weapon and instructing people on the carrying of one. On very rare occasions, I will open carry my 1911 Springfield TRP .45 in public, and I have noticed that people look at me differently when this firearm is openly displayed. Please understand, 99 % of the time that I am in possession of my firearm, it is concealed on my person and because it is out of sight, simply does not exist in the minds of people I constantly interact with. Thus, the purpose of concealed carry! There are those rare occasions that I may be going to instruct a concealed carry class somewhere or I am going to compete in some pistol match to polish my personal skills and I just open carry my handgun of choice for convenience purposes to accommodate my preference for the given day. On this particular Sunday morning, I was going to a Steel Challenge Match in Winnsboro, LA., and was standing in line at McDonalds. There were not a lot of people in the line waiting on service this morning, but I could feel a woman standing next to me sort of "glaring" at my presence. I turned to face her, smiled and said, "Good morning." She smiled back and without hesitation engaged me in conversation by saying, "I always thought I would feel threatened if I ever saw someone doing that," and she nodded at my holstered pistol. I told her that it was just a tool and the weapon's system that controlled it was a very nice and honorable person. She looked at me and said, "for some reason I feel comfortable with you standing there!" I just said thank you and wondered if she had seen my tattoo, if anything would have changed in her mindset? As I picked up my order, she smiled her goodbye and a young boy about 5 or 6 just watched me walk past him, grinning ear to ear. It was a good experience today. But when it gets cooler, I will slip a jacket over my open carry holstered firearm just to ease the stress of those that don't understand...<br />
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Posted October 12 <br />
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An all mine, lazy Saturday morning. Treadmill? I think not! Yard work? Seriously? There are no grand kids to step over as I take my place in my home this morning nor am I bound with scheduling conflicts throughout the day to take them and pick them up from where they need to be taken. The most difficult decision I've wrestled with this morning is just what, and how much do I seriously want to eat! On this blessed morning, I have managed to unravel myself from the light blankets of my bed, stumble into the kitchen and check the drudge report along with Fox News on my laptop. With Linda consorting with her mother in pos<span class="text_exposed_show">t storm West Monroe, Meggie is left to wonder the changes projected in her domain as she follows me around knowing much is different. Two hours after joining this beautiful day, I managed to cover my boxer briefs with my black AND1 knee length silk workout shorts and force myself to the other end of my house to the media room. Calm down, folkses. It is nothing more than my den where my large screen TV is connected to Direct TV with an absolutely wonderful surround sound stereo/dvd system! Today it is mine! All mine! No arguments with grandkids over Phenis and Ferb or Sponge Bob Square Pants!! As I recline into my lair of comfort, I direct my attention to the pending task. Now. Just what might my finger tips find if I "surf" every channel this remote control can possibly gleen from distant satellite? Tearing away from the military channel, Fox News and sports propaganda of college day football prophecy, I launch through the channels. Pay channels? Imagine that! Spanish speaking channels? Not when I was a kid! As I leave the bonds of gravity and drift into the 800+ series of channels, Neil Diamond stops me cold in a channel all by itself call Hits of the 60's Revolution! And then another one! Hits of the 70's! Peaches and Herb, <u><em>Reunited</em></u>? How wonderful, I think as I increase the volume. Meggie breaks camp to the other end of the house as the walls begin to shake. Van Halen? <em><u>Dance the Night Away</u></em>? The 70's? Lord where did the time go. Nevermind... I well know. I am seriously wondering if I will even hear the knock on my door when the sheriffs department knocks to investigate my neighbors complaint? Hey. This is my lazy Saturday. At least until 1 or 2 pm when Linda gets back home! *Big Lazy Smile*</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted October 18 from the un-peaceful bliss (by choice) of my home!</span><br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0"> My opinion? I agree Ebola is some bad stuff. But we aren't dropping like flies, Either. Remember, this virus has been around since 1975! Now, if and when this starts happening, you WILL have my attention! My biggest concern? Yellowstone. Yup. The national park. It's a volcano for God's sake. When that ba</span></span><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0">d boy erupts, it is going to be like an asteroid the size of Cuba striking the earth! Now, let's look at something else. Psst!! WE is ALL gonna die! Why do we only freak out "after" the method of our demise is defined? I know, I know. Shut up and kiss someone you love and enjoy your life to its fullest! I am so not afraid of you hiding that Ebola assness in my spaghetti if I'm ever invited to your home for Dinner.</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0">Posted October 27</span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"> It is a cool 43 degree start beside my rivers possessive presence. Glass black reflective surface barely ripples as tendrils of distilled warmth interact between her temperature and that of the atmosphere as a barometric pressure presses upon everything. Consistency is played out before me as my river displays something different in her message to me every day. Yes, a constant massage of change yet not so radical as to upset my apple cart? Everything appears to be within <span class="text_exposed_hide">...</span><span class="text_exposed_show">the acceptable boundaries of solitude and peaceful acceptance. Yes? Then why are the polls so close? Why are wrongs applauded as rights? Why are outright lies against the very mores that stabilized my childhood now suddenly being forced upon us? The consistant flow of my river for some reason does not reflect the moral, political and social fluctuation that is on display across this fruited plain of a once strong nation under God. The entire world feast upon our demise and it is only time before its existence as the worlds lighthouse fades. What would have been sweeping change in this upcoming election 25 years ago, is now a toss up of "wait and see." Do any of you wonder why? And it was God that hardened Pharoh's heart. hmmm...</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span class="text_exposed_show"></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4i.1:3:1:$comment10204817341331720_10204817387332870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span class="text_exposed_show">Posted October 30 from my river.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-41280446769464080692014-09-02T21:07:00.000-05:002014-10-02T13:17:46.169-05:00Facebook Quotes for September 2014<i>My Facebook post from 2013 started in January and ran through the entire year for twelve long months. Friends trying to keep up with it told me it was difficult to start at the beginning of the only "true blog" I keep and arrow down to the last post. This year, I will po</i><i>st my blog from one month to the next as a separate story throughout the 2014 calendar year? If you find yourself remotely interested in what goes on in my thoughts and mind, please take the time to join and let me know you are here. I personally enjoy every fingerprint that is left here and appreciate your comments even more. There are occasional short stories I do post along with my Facebook Quotes Blog so if you have the time to join, again, please do, I am still trying to figure out who my favorite fan actually is. Their name is <b>Anonymous</b>! No last name. Imagine that.</i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">SEPTEMBER</span></i><br />
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And September sneaks in disguised as a day of labor and gently kisses us upon our unsuspecting lips. We respond with the awe of college football and the promise of pig skin action every Sunday through February 8th. High humidity reminds us of it's presence every time we step from an air conditioned vehicle or building as our glasses fog over while as on cue, those late summer heat cells drop an inch or more of rain in just an hour. School has started and those of us that drive through scho<span class="text_exposed_show">ol zones are careful to hide our cell phones for fear of being caught, while the Fall solstice steadfastly approaches as scheduled. So as I try to collect my thoughts, "Cows On The Hill" by Jay Ungar & Molly Mason from the album Waltzing With You - Music From Brother's Keeper plays comfortably through my head as Pandora entertains me in the background. You see, I know and you know that Fall is just around the corner. The sultry heat and humidity of Summer will fall victim to the shortened day as maybe an unexpected early frost will put her accent on our Fall color display. I pray I will enjoy the transition that I so look forward to every year, as I try to put to sleep unfavorable experiences of storms past. Yes! We do learn from them. Absolutely. May this Fall bring forth her magnificent glory while those of Faith hold tight to the Promise as the world continues to crumble around us. With each free moment, acknowledge what you have and breath! Isn't it wonderful?</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted September 2 from my afternoon home.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show"> A friend from my high school days extending back into the last
millennium, commented on a post I made in reference the coming fall
equinox. He called it St. Rodney day? I could not help by smile and
sorta set the record straight with the following reply. Oh my gosh!!! I
swear there is an asteroid the size of our moon destined to strike
earth if that were true. However, because of a rather serious
horticulture background, I must admit that I do exist from one solstice to the equalizing
equino<span class="text_exposed_show">x in predictable, continuous circle all the while giving
thanks to my Creator for letting me experience yet one more season of
his marvelous handiwork. In my pre-dawn moments sitting here beside my black glass
reflective river, the moon in its fullness dusts every visible thing my
eyes can see with its soft dull glow which majestically orbits 250° off my port side window.
Like a heavy dew, her casting light seems to miss nothing except for the long shadows
that are cast across the black mirrored rivers surface. As my attention
follows the existing path of this body of water, in the center of her
claimed real estate, a flickering light! My commercial fisherman must
be hand pulling his john boat from hook to hook checking the bounty for
what may have preyed upon his baited line(s) as it lay suspended across her
depths. The fall equinox cometh as the days have begun that gradual decline
of daily light. Harvest time awakens across the heartlands of America to reveal Your blessings the farmer
requested as he sowed his seed right after the last equal day/night
cycle. Does he take this maybe long forgot prayer for granted or does he fully give thanks to You for Your countless bounty? I wonder the same of my fisherman? My world is awake now as my favorite passerine lifts his voice
in praise. Now. What difference will I make in the life of someone
today? I must lift my prayers to You, precious Father, for those I know from yesterday's tragedy.</span></span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="text_exposed_show">Posted September 9 from my River </span> </span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> And as my eyes awaken on this morning's start, my cat walks across me and sticks her face into mine welcoming me to another day. I greet my Lord with my Thank You for life as I stare with one eye closed into the glare of my iPhone. I know today is 9-11. I remember 13 years ago like it was yesterday. I am aware of the heads-up given the spawns of Satan in the Middle East by our popularly elected president and the time given them to prepare for whatever softball he decides to toss at them. I know what time it really is in my now, my anticipated now, and my spiritual now! Why today, is my mind fixated on the past, present and so near future? Let us see what our complacency teaches us today as each hour unfolds before us...</span><br />
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<em>Not many friends responded to my thoughts, but a few did. Thought I might include their musings as I felt their hearts. I wanted them to feel the depths of my feelings. I am sure there were a few more that thought of engaging, but let it rest. And that is ok, too...</em><br />
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<span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:0"><strong>Kent Arrant</strong>: </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">I could not have said it any better. You have a way with words</span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484975062771:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:0"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484975062771:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:0"><strong>Sue Hollis</strong>: </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484975062771:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484975062771:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484975062771:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">I well remember where I was and what I was doing that morning. Unreal</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484975062771:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484975062771:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484975062771:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484984383004:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.$author"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484877460331:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484975062771:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484975062771:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484975062771:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484984383004:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.$author"><strong>Melody Cook Von Einem</strong>: A</span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484984383004:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484984383004:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".1b.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204484984383004:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">men.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.$author"><strong>Carolyn W. Gresham</strong>: </span><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:0"> </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">I pray for peace in our souls, for I fear that is the only place it can exist.</span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:0"><strong>Pamela Nations</strong>: </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">There is no word other than Jesus, so delightfully powerful as the word, WAIT, to the enemy. </span><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$2:0">Because with it comes feeling of anticipation....then the feeling of "well, yes it's coming".....then the words of "well perhaps we were wrong, nothing is actu</span></span><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0">ally going to happen"...then complacency and a feeling of false security.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><br data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$1:0" /><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$2:0">Yes my dear friend, it is coming. The WORD says the thief comes when no one is watching or waiting. Yes, he's coming.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$2:0"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><br data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$3:0" /><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$4:0">But my hope is built on nothing less than Jesus Christ and HIS righteousness. I run to Him and am safe. He keeps me in the shadow of His wings. For me to die is gain. I will fear no evil for thy rod and thy staff is with me. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$4:0"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><br data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$5:0" /><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$6:0">I pray America wakes up and realizes their only hope. Stay safe my friend and watch and wait.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$6:0"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$6:0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485972127697:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:0"><strong>Rod Ferguson</strong>: </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485972127697:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485972127697:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485972127697:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Could not agree with you more, Pammie. I know what time it really is. I understand fully the times we are living in. Yes, death is gain, no doubt, but I strongly feel my demise will find my remains with a sword in my hand as I will not go easy into that good night!</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$6:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485972127697:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485972127697:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485972127697:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485147427080:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485339551883:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$6:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485972127697:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485972127697:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204485972127697:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204486039769388:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:0"><strong>Lydia H. Blades</strong>: </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204486039769388:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204486039769388:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3.1:3:1:$comment10204484665655036_10204486039769388:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Ready or not, Jesus is coming.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"></span><br />
<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Posted September 11 while still in bed</span><br />
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Facebook! My reality check with the entire world. Not the Drudge Report or USA today. Not even CNN or Fox News. It is Facebook. And as I slide through post after post to enlighten my fading weekend, it begins to register in my primitive mind. Well, here is EVERYTHING, I have conditioned myself, that I ever wanted to see and know. Another ISIS beheading, a picture of Barry with one of his sleezy smirks on some damn golf course. Then I gaze upon a close-up picture of "toss my medals" aka as "The Lurch," himself trying hard not to look stupid despite his ignorant self. Whew, I'm thinking, what enlightenment I have stumbled across! I MUST CONTINUE!! <span class="text_exposed_show">Up pops a picture of a snarling "dis-bared Moochelle," obviously irritated because 1st graders hate boiled squid for lunch as another round of common core reasoning proves too difficult without the guidance of a strong government. Please. Let us NOT stop here... I surf on as my fingertips help glide yet another Facebook update of none other than "the queen" herself. Lady Benhuzzie Hillary Rodham Hubble-Foster. I'm incensed. It just does not stop! All I have to do is realize that if I continue my Facebook update, I am going to encounter, without doubt, more updates on the remarkable accomplishments of or some intelligent observations made by either holder, pelosi, reed or God forbid, sharp al himself. I can hardly stand it! It is very similar to "I have to take a fast trip" to paradise itself for absolutely no reason at all. And then my friends pile on. Rod, there is an arrow at the top to Delete stuff you don't want to see, as to comfort me into deciding if I want to see or not see what is grating my charming personality. Maybe it is time I go away... Or time for "my friends" to make <strong><em>me</em></strong> go away as my <strong><em>cynicism</em></strong> and anger grows as this bull feces is continuously fed to me via "social media!" Why are we always fed a lie as the truth when we know it is a lie! And even more, why do we try to believe the lie just to sustain equilibrium into another day? I always thought of myself as having above average intelligence. Not much above average now, mind you, but still a little above average. Yet here I am, time after time after time seeking the truth in the things I am told, in what I know is a lie. Thanks Facebook! </span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted September 14 from my late afternoon home.</span><br />
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58 degree start on the first morning of this year's Fall season. I did not visit my river this morning, but as I walked to my automobile, I audibly noticed that my gray passerine was entertaining me after what seemed to be another long, late summer silence. The accent of another cloudless, red tinted sunrise highlighted the eastern sky as the visual promise of a new day was accompanied with the cooled promise of the coming season. This made me smile. Our Fall equinox or the "harvest season!" On my return home from a visit to Monroe th<span class="text_exposed_show">is past weekend, I noticed the lights of working combines engulfed by the swirling dust clouds of their task in progress as they rake every square foot of yielding grains from the yielding fields. Next will be the cotton fields as the white boles of product peek from underneath the green, yet defoliated leaves of the mature plants. It was just yesterday I smiled as a fox squirrel scurried across the road in front of me! "Hurry little fella, you only have a couple of more weekends before an entire season is dedicated for the collection of your kind!" He too, is an item of harvest as mankind prepares for the sleep of the winter's solstice just three months away...</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted September 23, on the first day of the fall equinox</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI8Y7_ltwKcEF8r9adXFbPI6c0MS3lCnBH9r8XzlrdKlR484Mt1Az9io6UTV7nwkGoAluJsKhE6VR94T_c34lYwhD0HXUjqgQw4XJYQiGqYYXeWY5LAjW6Fufimrr-6V_oMVThMzxZzi0_/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI8Y7_ltwKcEF8r9adXFbPI6c0MS3lCnBH9r8XzlrdKlR484Mt1Az9io6UTV7nwkGoAluJsKhE6VR94T_c34lYwhD0HXUjqgQw4XJYQiGqYYXeWY5LAjW6Fufimrr-6V_oMVThMzxZzi0_/s1600/008.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a> Folkses, my favorite virus drone! I call her Gabby Gazelle Gazoo! You really can't appreciate this picture until you bring it up close and carefully observe around her sweet mouth and all down her precious little chest! A life long friend of mine, Pam Nations, <span data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569663099919:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:0">asked me in my original facebook post, "W</span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569663099919:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569663099919:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569663099919:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">hat is all over her face and down her belly?" I died laughing! How could I even answer that question without an explanation? You see, I wrote about this kind of situation in my short story <em><u><strong>Attention Deficit, What</strong></u></em> in January of this year. So you see, I couldn't answer her question without vivid recall of this same interaction with my own mother when I was around 6 to 7 years of age. My answer to my friend was this, "T<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569726301499:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569726301499:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569726301499:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">hat Pammie, is sugar! In its sweetest form! That irresistible elixir is exactly what is going to kill me in my old age! My wife has sense enough to clean "that stuff" you are inquiring about off!" With me, however, it takes me back years into my early life when I asked my mother if she ever kissed me on my butt? Her response was, "It was the only clean spot on you, boy!" Sometimes it takes a simple picture and an entire lifetime for things to become perfectly clear and focused! By the way, that is her older brother, Ashton, peering through the other side of the window!</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569663099919:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569663099919:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569663099919:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569726301499:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569726301499:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569726301499:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569663099919:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569663099919:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569663099919:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569726301499:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569726301499:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".29.1:3:1:$comment10204569621018867_10204569726301499:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Posted September 24 from my afternoon home.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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Upon the rippled disturbances of my ancient river's surface, urban life begins to stir all around me through reflective fragments. Across her depths I can hear as well as the reminding sound of a large vehicle's back up warning system alerts others of potential danger of that movement. My American flag is motionless upon its perch as the predawn insects' audible "chirps" still mingle with the sounds of man along my river's accompanying stretch. What drew me out so early this last morning of September's fade, I cannot address specifically. Yet in my mind, I am visualizing the beauty of what I know to be the tree of life and death, standing most beautiful among the trees o<span class="text_exposed_show">f my habited gardens. There are no written warnings or signs to ward my approach. I did not need them! I knew to stay away. But like the majestic peaks of Denali that were visible as I gazed 300 miles to her south from Anchorage on a clear day, I knew this tree existed. I well knew the temptation of the fruit as I matured through time and was acutely aware that it was constantly present and within my reach. I first was attracted to the comfort of shade as the hot winds of summer were distilled by her leaves comforting my pause. Then the beauty of her colors became enticing as she shed fall leaves I readily collected to soften my rest as I slept among them piled. How many times did her shed branches warm my chilled body and heat my food as winters passed? I managed well to abstain from her fruit as what I found in the remarkable existence, in the forest of my world, was the necessary blocks that social interaction with something so generous and beautiful offers. And the season did come that encouraged my destiny of civil disobedience. It was not the serpent that encouraged my resolve but only my arrogant rejection of that inner guidance that allows a blind hog to find a discarded acorn. My River sighed and reminded me of the bounty within her belly had I not been so distracted by the beauty of majestic peaks so far away to the north, northwest of Anchorage. The deep croaking noise of a White Egret pauses my thoughts as in the harshness of the tone itself, I am encouraged to continue on. I will always wonder had I abstained from the fruit of that beautiful tree, what kind of man I could have become? What kind of friend my company would have made to those in need of friendship and council? What, I often wonder, could I have been? As my Mockingbird awakens and says, Good Morning, I am reminded of the price that has already been paid for my transgressions. The last day of another September may never come again in my lifetime, so let me live it to the best of my ability. So too, I ask this of you as well.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted from my River September 30 at the breaking of Dawn</span><br />
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<br />Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-22826720903237555422014-08-11T20:04:00.003-05:002014-09-02T21:18:05.536-05:00Facebook Quotes for August 2014<em>My Facebook post from 2013 started in January and ran through the entire year for twelve long months. Friends trying to keep up with it told me it was difficult to start at the beginning of the only "true blog" I keep and arrow down to the last post. This year, I will po</em><em>st my blog from one month to the next as a separate story throughout the 2014 calendar year? If you find yourself remotely interested in what goes on in my thoughts and mind, please take the time to join and let me know you are here. I personally enjoy every fingerprint that is left here and appreciate your comments even more. There are occasional short stories I do post along with my Facebook Quotes Blog so if you have the time to join, again, please do, I am still trying to figure out who my favorite fan actually is. Their name is <strong>Anonymous</strong>! No last name. Imagine that.</em><br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">AUGUST</span></em></strong><br />
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I have been axed by a few concerning friends, just where have I been and why so silent the last decade or so? Decade? Goodness, how time flies by when it dawns on someone you haven't been around for a while. So, let me brought chaw up ta date on where I been. Actually, right here in a nurturing roll of sorts. As we move down that highway we interact with called life, we find on occasion the necessity for that occasional major overhaul in order to keep ourselves pliable and acceptable in a social sort of way. Because a majority of us co-exist in pairs, we find that over time in order to actually exist, we must depend on one another to actually exist! And that is a viable function if carefully orchestrated! On the 31st of July, Linda and I "snuck" away to the local surgery center where with the capable assistance of a wonderful surgeon, had "zippers" installed on both of Linda's knees! This facilitated the ability for him to actually cut off both of her legs and install what he called the Cadillac's of chrome and cobalt prosthetic knees! You see, the other ones she had before the zippers were just worn slap out because of way too many miles and something called arthritis? Anyway, that was fixed on the morning of the 31st! We stayed around the garage until the 3rd of August before they moved her to the body shop also known as the rehab center! Even though every-thing behind the zippers were brand new, it seemed she needed to have some serious body work done in order for these new replacement parts to actually function properly now that they were installed. So, as my brave and determined wife struggled with the adjustments, she rapidly improved from being pushed around in a wheel chair to exercising herself on her own "licensed" Independent aluminum walker complete with her own basket for storing things of importance. This past Saturday, all systems tested positive as therapy providers awarded my champion with her own "Independence Day" tee shirt! Posted on her door that day was a sign advising all employees of that body shop to not assist in washing, feeding, assisting in anyway except upon dire request to include potty breaks and showers! Remember the "co-exist as a pair" thing from earlier? Trust me, there are times independence is welcomed! Well, anyway, she flew through with flying colors and everyone that shared the same body reconditioning floor with her found her to be their envy! Around 11:00 am on this date, she signed her new Cadillac's out of the body shop and embraced the new challenge of climbing into the Van for the trip home! You know, that long awaited "fledging" to be on your own? Climbed right into the passenger seat and said, "Drive!" My only reply was "Where to, Ms. Daisy?" I was instructed without hesitation to three distinct places. The first of course was the pharmacy to drop her perscriptions. It seemed there was an additive known as Percocet that absolutely had to be added via oral consumption every 4 to 6 hours to help offset any homicide that could possibly occur as a result of those "cloudy" snaps the Oxycodone encourages on well intended spouses. It was apparent her springing forth from the restrictive confines of necessary <em>institutionalization</em> was well planned as I was directed to get her "handicap" tag at the DMV before we proceeded to Wal-mart! Excited about riding the plug-in buggy at Wally World, ya think? Oh yeah! But I discouraged her "this time" until she was a little stronger and "sharper" mentally! I certainly did not want some un-intended victim to errantly bump into her and fall prey to the "cloud" from the additive she so desperately needs. She remained in her air conditioned Dodge Ram Caravan while I headed inside, unable to park in the handicapped zone for the first time ever simply because everyone of them I sought, were actually full! School supplies? Who woulda thunk? As I returned from the maze of crazed shoppers, our fledging outing was cut short! There was another "additive" we had not factored into our trip called Lasix! She/me had no idea how fast acting that stuff is, but the idea of me speeding to get her home over rode the possibility of a speeding ticket. I mentioned Depends and that Oxycodone fog again slapped me. I increased to 53 in a 35mph zone. Upon reaching home it was amazing the instructions I received on how to pull into my own garage. I was instructed where to stop and why as to accommodate her ascent into the dwelling we called home. Zippers? New body parts? The need for natural relief? Folkses, have you ever tossed a baby duck into a pool of water? This woman was at home. I just couldn't get her portable potty over the real potty fast enough to meet her needs, but we made it. I was sent off to retrieve the meds the pharmacy was processing with a stern warning. I am fine, go get my medicine and leave me alone! If any are actually interested, I am good. I am still breathing. If you don't hear from me... Well, never mind... <i class="_4-k1 img sp_1-5JdbvTV3M sx_9b318d"></i> She's home!~<br />
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Posted August 11th from my afternoon home.<br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> My flag is gently stirred by a barely noticeable breeze at my river's edge. It is a 66° start with a relative humidity of 94% and the barometric pressure is a touch over 30 mb. It is a cool start for an August morning as school is in full swing here within my chosen geographical boundaries. As the rising <em>source of life</em> gave color to my river this morning, she revealed just one word that imprinted in my <span class="text_exposed_show">mind. <strong>Peaceful</strong>! And so it is for me, right here, right now, at this very spot as the experience itself resonates within the confined privacy of my mind played out as present time. So it is now that I will take advantage of what is granted me during this moment as this snapshot I have of a peaceful moment I relish in, is certainly not reflective of current world events. Somewhere in the heart of every true American, that Eagle that is representative of this nation's resolve is bristling with discontent. It is just a matter of time and at this moment I chose not to dwell there. One last glance at my river's surface and she bids me farewell until later. This body of liquid life is so confident in her hold on me that she is absolute of my return. As am I as I drive away to engage my day knowing my affair with my river continues...</span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">Posted August 13th from my river.</span></span><br />
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My morning began at 05:30 with an 80 minute, 5 mile stroll on my treadmill. After a cool down period and looking at pictures posted on Facebook of OPHS 45 year reunion up in West Monroe I hastened to partake of the morning cleansing that a shower and shave imprints on ones mind. As I powdered up after blow drying my hair, I stepped on the scales and realized a new record had been achieved! Good for me! 20 years since I've seen 243 pounds! But as with most days, my constant<span class="text_exposed_show"> sin companion was encouraging me to hasten my personal hygiene and register my weight, blood pressure and blood sugar in my log so I could yield to her demands. Sin? Did I say that? Well yes. I can now acknowledge the very thing that has possessed me and destroyed me over the years. Gluttony! There it is with a twist of covetousness.</span><br />
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</span><span class="text_exposed_show"> I knew in my refrigerator were five beautiful yellow skin peaches, placed there just yesterday evening waiting for me this morning. The peach. Oh my word. You see, somewhere in my life time some women's group coined the Apple as being the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge that Satan tempted Eve with. Remember the bright red apple necklaces with one bite mark? Understand, for that to be biblically correct, two bites should have been present as Adam himself partook of the fruit also. I am here to rebuke the apple theory. I feel in my heart the fruit on that tree was the fuzzy, dew laden, fat, sweet, yellow peach whose sweetness is second only to honey itself. I believe Eve took of this treasure and was so pleased she hid it behind her back and let Adam taste it on her lips before presenting it to him! After the second bite was made, the peach, chilled by the coolness of the Garden's peace, was devoured in whole and Adam was left to dig himself out of the pit he was left holding for the rest of his life. I sure do love peaches! They are only 68 calories. So cold. Another one? You think? Time for church. I digress.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted August 17 in the am hours before Church Services...</span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> As I park my car beside my river, I lower my windows before turning out the lights on my patrol unit. There exists a fog this morning and my water's surface is stippled with what appears to be discontent?? The church bell across her bridged expanse rings out a greeting 17 times as the 0600 hour comes to pass despite the inaccuracy of the bell's resolve. Police radio chatter finds our motorcycle traffic units engaging recalcitrant violators as obviously they try to squee<span class="text_exposed_show">ze more time into an already carefully metered day. High pressure dominates my morning setting as I reflect back on the free council I have offered family members in order to offset future storms I knew they would endure if voiced wisdom, laid precariously in there laps, were to be ignored! Storms? To what extent the damage might these forecast projections inflict if allowed to dance across the possessed landscapes of my hard-headed descendants? My River... She simply reminds me that my warnings should not cause me burden as my desire to regulate harmony was received of my offspring without the benefit of experience, discontent, or turmoil of which incited my forecast in the first place. Still </span></span><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">fog laden, and 30 minutes past my first observation, her surface has lost its stippled manner and she sits quietly beside me in sort of a catatonic state of existence. Maybe I should save my council for another, more wise, discerning soul. Myself maybe! The last thing I need are storms in my life. And this storm brewing is one that could have easily been avoided. So, knowing this, why is the temptation for me to just kick the crap out of it so tempting and exciting? If I could just slip off to some peaceful <em>island</em> or <em>mountain</em> somewhere? No, it would have to be a mountain... </span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">Posted August 18 from my river.</span></span><br />
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Before I can position myself comfortably beside my predawn river, a commercial fisherman motors by obviously intent on checking his bounty. Mercury and sodium vapor light reflections from across her depths regain their watery wiggle as the passing disturbance of the boat's wake subsides. Her persona is quiet this morning. A peaceful quiet maybe? But that boat disturbed her surface without care and ruined my contentment of that moment by using her! Another assessment of her temperament finds her content and calm yet once again and soothing to my soul. Do not be disturbed Rod, she said. The boat is not using me as you might choose to think. I am actually accommodating him in much the same way I do you. My boundaries are long and wide and deep so allow me to be who I am. Let me be what I am. And another boat raced by as morning light begins to reveal the colors of my Flag.<br />
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Posted August 26 from my river.</div>
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Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-78060343192046330902014-07-07T19:28:00.003-05:002014-07-28T12:25:45.304-05:00Facebook Quotes for July 2014<em>My Facebook post from 2013 started in January and ran through the entire year for twelve long months. Friends trying to keep up with it told me it was difficult to start at the beginning of the only "true blog" I keep and arrow down to the last post. This year, I will po</em><em>st my blog from one month to the next as a separate story throughout the 2014 calendar year? If you find yourself remotely interested in what goes on in my thoughts and mind, please take the time to join and let me know you are here. I personally enjoy every fingerprint that is left here and appreciate your comments even more. There are occasional short stories I do post along with my Facebook Quotes Blog so if you have the time to join, again, please do, I am still trying to figure out who my favorite fan actually is. Their name is <strong>Anonymous</strong>! No last name. Imagine that.</em><br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;">JULY</span></em></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I was surfing face book posts
Sunday morning before church, I ran across a post from a casual friend in North
Louisiana that spends, what appears to be quality time, with his grand
children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is what he posted:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It is11 o’clock at night and what am I doing?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I took the grand boy’s, night fishing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must be stupid.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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know many of us would have played off such trivial banter for lack of anything
else to do, but for some reason, the words of this man resonated in my mind and
I seemed to dwell there in his words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
could not help but share on his wall what his words meant to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When all of the spilled words were printed
and our social exchange disappears into some mega-terabyte heaven of Facebook’s
mainframes somewhere, it will be highlighted with only a simple “Like” added by
the very man I chose to compliment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not
another soul bothered to comment or acknowledge our exchange.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was the one I was speaking to, and he was
the one who liked my response and appeared grateful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only when time has passed, long after we are
both removed from social interaction with anyone, will this “stupid” we possess
in us, ever be appreciated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe the
benefactors will recognize what I speak of and maybe not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That all depends if time as we know it, still
is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So to his statement, my reply:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes.
You are stupid, John, in the eyes of so many. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just who in this world but a stupid person
would sacrifice valued sleep or personal "me" time to take a couple
of kids fishing at 11 pm at night. You see, these people that call you stupid
are self absorbed in their own life and probably have no idea where their kids
or grandkids are at that given “stupid” time you address! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, let me remind you, those kids know
exactly where they are. And without that “stupid” guidance that might interfere
with our life, these neglected kids grow up dependent on some surrogate parent or
grandparent, called government, to meet their basic needs. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And thus we encounter the current state of our
union! Those that would agree that you are stupid for this
"parenting" mindset, find their fish at the supermarket with food
stamps. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could go on John, but I think
you get the point here. Jesus encouraged his disciples to fish because that is
who they were when He sought them. He alone placed that “stupid” in your very
heart so you could raise your grandchildren to become independent young men of
another generation so they could be dependent on themselves and like-minded
friends. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because of what I see, I want
to thank you John, for being “stupid” in the minds of so many. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is in your “stupid,” people like me sit
back in admiration of your weakness and understand why the meek will again someday
inherit this earth. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is through men
like you John, that our God is able to do his best work! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With your unselfish time, dedication, and knowledge
along with your willingness, you show yet one more generation how it should be done!
So, let me stand up and applaud your right to be “stupid,” while acknowledging
there are many that will call you just that as your actions grate against their
selfish existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They will continue to
collectively whine about your guns, freedom, and unwillingness to give unto
them, what their surrogate parent or government tells them is rightfully theirs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So
yes, John, let the voices from the left curse our core beliefs while holding
out begging hands demanding from us what God abundantly shares from the bounty
of His earth for those who acknowledge Him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Posted July 8 from my office</span><br />
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<span class="userContent"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Folkses, sometimes I just can't help but paint by the numbers. Is our responsibility any different once the numbers are obviously one sided??? You put the numbers together and tell me! While the smallest numbers amongst us demand change,<span class="text_exposed_show"> the trained voices of Journalism fill print and airwaves with spins that make lies of truth! When will the demand for honesty, integrity and unity be restored as a foundational cornerstone of what once were societal norms? Can resistance happen with out the shedding of blood? What is your duty? If these men were not Divinely inspired, then why do their quotes of centuries ago, ring so true in the depths of our souls?</span></span></span></div>
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">I know this quote from Thomas Jefferson was posted from a facebook page entitled Impeach Nancy Pelosi. Folkses, my problem is not Nancy Pelosi. She is only the "representative" of the problem! The people that put her there are the problem! She is performing E</span></span><span data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0">XACTLY as the majority of her constituents want or allow her to preform! If we took every political figure we dislike and impeached them or flushed them down the toilet, the same people that put the likes of Nancy Pelosi in her position would put someone else JUST LIKE HER, or even worse, in that same position.</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".v.1:3:1:$comment10204070051129932_10204072467070329:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.1:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Posted July 21 from my home</span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"> I have been
silent most of this month and may or may not be able to put my finger upon the
reason(s), yet it/they are ominously apparent as I have been absorbed in deep
thought as to my reactions to these stimuli. As I process these
things through autonomic patterns of subliminal thought, "solar
flares" defined by logic and experience seem to arrest
my response to what is and what isn't. Let me see if I can help you
understand what I am saying. Now, before I go there, I have already
been told that my writings are somewhat self-centered and are more about
"me" than anything else. I agree. I write for myself
with the hope and desire that you, the reader, will enjoy what I reveal to you.
If by happenstance you like it and can identify with it, then read on.
If you cannot, then move on! These are my musings I share in print,
hoping that you may find common ground or reasoning. With that said, I
find myself polarized between two simple definitions that run parallel to each
other yet are harmoniously correlated with each other. How can I
take a meaningful animate thing/person and not NEED it in my life.
Can I deliberately remove it from my everyday functioning as if it doesn't exist
or cannot exist? In the same sentence, I convince myself that even though I
do not NEED this, I will chose to desire or WANT it as I see fit or as my daily
mood dictates. As I wrestle with this I wanted to see, of course, what
Merriam-Webster had to say, so I sought their collective wisdom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is what was defined as a Need: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">: a situation in which someone or something must do or have
something<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">:
something that a person must have : something that is needed in order to live
or succeed or be<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>happy<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">: a strong feeling that you must have or do something<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">This
is what was defined as a Want:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">:
to desire or wish for (something)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">:
to need (something)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10pt;">: to be without (something needed)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">This is what I
think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wrestling with the definitions, I
simply concluded that if you <em>want</em> something, there is a <em>need</em> for it in your
life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That <em>it</em> is something you need in
order to live or succeed or to be happy!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If some outside “source” seeks to tell you that you can want something
but not need it, then that <em>something</em> must not be anything that is worth preserving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is an inanimate thing that has no long
term benefits except for self- gratification. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I have a desire
and wish for my grandchildren to be in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I WANT to know them, to hold
them, kiss them, laugh with them and watch them grow up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But here in my head as I WANT this, the NEED
in my heart for them to be there is not mine to possess but someone else’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They decide if these children will be allowed
in my life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually these allowed times are arranged by
happenstance as we "run into each other at Wal-Mart." Meetings that consist of “Oh we must get together,” now that you know I’m in
town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then the pressure is on to call
and see which McDonalds we can meet at. Once this is maliciously decided, I’m
sure there would be restrictions on time and I would be in fear that words
however carefully chosen, would be misunderstood. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, to that voice that tells me I am NOT
NEEDED only WANTED, I feel as if I were that inanimate object!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So with all of that dramaturgical bull feces to contend with,
I think it best to just allow "our wants" to fade on the vine and become whatever
memory befalls us all, as they pursue life without me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They will never know what they have missed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And as for me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am wise and old enough to know what I have
missed and resentment will grow until it reaches maturity and no longer matters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know the fruit this vine produces and choose not to be a part of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I still have a
picture though of what I wanted but needed just as badly. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Posted July 26 from my Saturday Afternoon home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> She is moving at a fast pace this morning. Her stippled surface disturbed by a light humid breeze. At 6am the toll of the Catholic Church bell across her depths reminded me I am where I should be as the dark night births the dawn of yet another day. Nature heralds the "present" of life as my mockingbird is surprisingly vocal this early morning? Still mild consternation with my rivers intended message? Sh<span class="text_exposed_show">e seems to be running too fast to embrace me as I sit beside her in my favored place. Maybe she wants me to understand that the majority of the time we exist within any given day, is time taken for granted until we can consciously define an end to our life as we know it. Is she telling me I cannot have everything I want? Just maybe instead of wanting, I should hold secure in my heart those needs that sustain me and make me happy? That just may be what she is telling me. My <em>wants</em> should be those <em>needs </em>that encourages my participation in any given day as I navigate her challenges without resentment until my head seeks rest in the confines of my pillowed bed. It is then as I pass into slumbered rest, there will be peace in my soul. An end to life has yet to be defined for many if us, but it is there. Amazing how we are the only ones of Gods creation(s) that know this, yet we still move at a fast pace toward that destiny with a stippled surface disturbed by some light humid breeze. Let us not fail to recognize the passing of time available for us to be involved with anyone whose passing through affect an entire season of our life. And my affair with my river continues...</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">Posted July 28 from the bank of my River</span></span></div>
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<strong><em></em></strong><br />Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-28454306953510612912014-06-04T21:55:00.001-05:002014-07-08T16:02:44.621-05:00Facebook Quotes for June 2014<em>My Facebook post from 2013 started in January and ran through the entire year for twelve long months. Friends trying to keep up with it told me it was difficult to start at the beginning of the only "true blog" I keep and arrow down to the last post. This year, I will po</em><em>st my blog from one month to the next as a separate story throughout the 2014 calendar year? If you find yourself remotely interested in what goes on in my thoughts and mind, please take the time to join and let me know you are here. I personally enjoy every fingerprint that is left here and appreciate your comments even more. There are occasional short stories I do post along with my Facebook Quotes Blog so if you have the time to join, again, please do, I am still trying to figure out who my favorite fan actually is. Their name is <strong>Anonymous</strong>! No last name. Imagine that.</em><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">JUNE</span></strong><br />
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<strong> </strong>Seems like forever since my last post back on the 24th of May. I had a close friend tell me on the last Saturday of May, that I have neglected my blog and had plenty of time left to collect my thoughts on something I could share that might be interesting. I thought then and reflect now that actually, I have spent quality time at my river's edge these last several days and notice as we slip closer to the summer solstice, what was once a dark beginning at her side is now bathed in the soft rays of a jealous sun. It is here most times, that a thought will enter my head and expand into something I can easily spread across a computer screen in understandable, yet sometimes fragmented statements that make sense to me as well as others as they too might struggle with small, life yielding events. So yes, I have been slightly reserved with my thoughts and feelings and can't understand the why or why not's my river fails to whisper a thought into my attentive existence as the world comes alive around me on these beautiful mornings. I am there. Where else could I possibly be?<br />
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Posted June 4 from my late afternoon home<br />
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Today is National Donut Day! I thought I had done exceptionally well by staying clear of the donut shop we affectionately call Harlow's. As I strolled through the executive offices of City Hall, I discovered a gift that awaited those who work within those hallowed offices, compliments of the Mayor's Chief of Staff. A token, of sorts, sat waiting for anyone that might choose to partake in the celebration of National Donut Day. As the plain cardboard box sat there with the absence of Harlow's Donuts printed boldly on the side, a new name was introduced into my mindset. American Donut? My lust of curiosity simply could not be controlled! Lifting the lid of this strangely shaped donut container, revealed the remaining few of the already picked through dozen glazed morsels of finely hewn dough that was deeply fried before being glazed with refined sugars. While engaging the pleasures of my sight, some prehistoric desire overcame my ability to turn away. Trying my best to refrain, I took my time savoring the taste as it was swallowed in only two bites. Approval was instantaneous! I walk to one of the executive offices and exchanged information with its tenant. She commented there was sugar on my mouth and laughed pointing out it was obvious that I had found the donuts, of which I could not deny. It was no longer a secret. The truth had been revealed. I had violated my sacred diet with the temptations of something sweet. How do I overcome the shame? I could have been distraught, yet I substantiated almost immediately in my mind the fact that a second more tasty donut could be as easily walked off on my afternoon treadmill stroll just as easily as one. As I departed the executive offices the lid was raised yet once again as another donut found favor with my palatable palate! By the time I sat before my computer in my office my greed and satisfaction was well tempered. Now to record the damages on my iPhone. As I selected the appropriate icon, I immediately went to snacks between breakfast and lunch. Under "other foods" I typed in donut and to my surprise a glazed donut appeared. One donut! 280 calories! As I rolled the select 1 donut to select 2 donuts, I realized that in a moment of weakness lasting less than 30 seconds, I had consumed 580 calories from my allowed 1800 total calorie day. *gasp* The horrors of the lack of discipline! A 4 mile walk at 3.8 mph only yielded a net result of -543 calories just yesterday. The question I wrestle with from hour to hour is do I want to die happy and fat or hungry weighing less than 250 pounds?<br />
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Posted June 6 from my office<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJXPeeCEBh1hVrhXtmY5ZygPstmkB1jhtg00z6xfBAmDvGlK1jwDfUsEXFSfTXj9oDWJEZdzjjX00dYN_a6mIFFNAZ_GbZWTIMyP9xiJ9i5VM_1Mp3y323qVFaftScckx_uSZdsZmbk50q/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJXPeeCEBh1hVrhXtmY5ZygPstmkB1jhtg00z6xfBAmDvGlK1jwDfUsEXFSfTXj9oDWJEZdzjjX00dYN_a6mIFFNAZ_GbZWTIMyP9xiJ9i5VM_1Mp3y323qVFaftScckx_uSZdsZmbk50q/s1600/007.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a><br />
I am sitting here with my 10 year old granddaughter and out of the clear blue I asked her if she liked Obama. She looked at me and shrugged her shoulders, saying she didn't know. I stopped my activity on my computer, looked directly into her eyes, and asked her if she liked Hillary. That precious child looked into my eyes and said, "Who?" At this very moment, her cell phone rang and she said, "Hi Ken!" It was the next thing out of her mouth that put everything right into its proper perspective. She asked what she felt was a more important question. "Do you like your braces?" As she walked away in conversation with her friend I wondered, "What I would give for simpler days!" And Ken? That is short for McKynly. Ken is Kyn and is a girl... And that is somewhat of a relief. I do not need to be concerned about that for another 5 years or so? <br />
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Posted June 11 from my afternoon home<br />
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<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".1p.$mid=11402665378291=27fd60c98d497bc2158.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null"> As I settled into my morning routine at my office this morning, I noticed I had received a Private Message from a lifelong friend, Hilton Frizell. For those of you that don't know, Hilton and his wife Sandra, lost their middle son Jason, this past December of 2013 as a result of a long battle with substance abuse. Having not seen Hilton in 35 years or more other than being facebook friends, I was moved and strongly desired to attend this young man's wake and express my heart's concern to them personally. There was an awesome crowd of people in attendance at the funeral home as I waited in line an hour or longer before I could express my condolences. I was pleasantly surprised as I first approached his wife. As I introduced myself as one of Hilton's oldest friends, she extended her hand and said my name, "Rodney?" My heart was moved that she knew me from possible stories past as she stepped aside with a gracious smile allowing me to hug my old friend. Such a bittersweet moment now frozen in time. As I opened his message to me this morning, this is what I read: "Sandra and I were talking about how much it meant to us for you to have come to Jason's service. When we have bad days it's those thoughts that help us get through. We are blessed to call you a friend."</span></span></div>
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<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".1p.$mid=11402665378291=27fd60c98d497bc2158.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null"> Another friend of mine asked me via the same media how I was doing this morning. I told her I was sitting<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".22.$mid=11402665743040=2cb265bfb402fb78238.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null"> at my desk passing time. I told her that Hilton just sent me a private message that touched my heart and that I was having one of those positive emotional moments as I exchanged smiles with her. She reminded me of another friend that reciently lost his son in a tragic accident. As I reflected back years ago to the loss of my niece Candy in a tragic automobile accident, things became surreal as I tried to focus on comforting words for her. I found myself remembering my own difficulties dealing with yet another rotation of my son Stewart as he deployed into harms way into Afghanistan time after time. As I tried to console my friend's feelings, I discovered I was consciously comforting Hilton and Sandra as well as myself as I shared the following with her:</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".1p.$mid=11402665378291=27fd60c98d497bc2158.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null"><span class="_5yl5" data-reactid=".22.$mid=11402665743040=2cb265bfb402fb78238.2:0.0.0.0.0"><span class="null"><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">I see the tree. I see the branch. I see the twig as it supports the leaves. I celebrate with the flush of spring. Yet as the leaf separates from the twig as the appropriate season or action intersects its time, do I mourn its death spiral to the earth it returns? The twig that harbored the leaf, what guilt should be born of its failure to maintain the leaf secure to the life giving source? Does the branch sc<span class="text_exposed_show">orn the twig for failure to maintain the very thing that it's life depends upon for survival? How does the tree respond to the branch while it grieves the loss the twig is experiencing? Despite the understanding of the loss we so focus, there is the reality of reason which we cannot understand and struggle with. It just is! Yet as we mourn, let us look at the palm of our hand through eyes of faith and know the roots of our tree are still supported by the <em>giver</em> of the life of which we still possess. Should we not give thanks that the separated leaf truly existed in the first place and once gave us shade? What is, just is. Until it can't be anymore and that time will come too!<br /><br /> Posted June 13 from my morning office</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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This is the text I sent to my son Stewart for Father's Day. Last I heard from him a couple of weeks ago he was traveling commercial airlines to Malaysia to instruct their special forces in military free fall techniques. I have no idea where he is today and as of 1900 hours, not a word from him. The text:<br />
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I know not what part of God's earth your eyes opened to observe wherever your morning dawned. As I sit in church this morning I hope you are at your home in Alaska where you were assaulted by an estrogen ocean of beautiful young ladies that still believe that you and you alone hung the moon. I also hope you are where you might recognize and appreciate the love and support the matriarch of those young ladies provides for you! It is Father's Day and I have taught you well, my son. I pray you can avoid the mistakes I made with you, and if you can, I know you will be the father they so desire! I ask yet again for you to forgive me where I failed you and wish more than anything you have a very "awakening" day, set aside for just fathers. I love you.<br />
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As if he felt my presence, I received this text from him at 2015 hours: I'm still in Malaysia. Still have a week left. Happy Fathers Day also. So there is confirmation my son is alive and well, but not exactly where I wished he could have been... As for me? There is still comfort in my world. Sorta. <br />
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Posted June 15, Fathers Day from Church<br />
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As I sat on my patio this solstice morning, my mockingbird announced the sun's appearance at 06:05 am as she peeked through my Crepe Myrtles at 62 degrees Northeast according to the compass on my Iphone 4s... To my best estimates anyway. Summer is now officially the dominate season for 2014 as what I will remember as a cooler than normal spring archives its accomplishments in my mind. Grandkids are scattered throughout the interior of the residence piled up on pallets, cou<span class="text_exposed_show">ches or some bed with one of the Disney channel programs competing with the central air conditioner for audio sensory superiority in my early morning home. I chunked Meggie onto the patio early as she is obviously still hyper from avoiding muddling grandkids from what ever time they passed into the night. Cat should know better than awaken me on a Saturday morning! Its just another day in my world and I have absolutely nothing constructive planned. As I type a sentence here and pause, I look at the facebook entry that is frozen below mine that was posted by a life long friend. I read the poem he posted and imagine the hearts loss of a child. I ask our God to comfort both his and his wife's heart, praying they both find resolve their son is where NO ONE will ever take him away from them again. The sun is much higher now than when it first appeared. It grows warm on my patio. And it dawns on me just how fortunate I am this day to not have absolutely nothing constructive planned as my heart and soul are at peace.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted June 21 from my early morning home</span><br />
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Seems like every time I read this, my heart resets. So I read it again. May I ask you to bookmark this before you even begin this read because you will stumble across it again someday as you click on it as to remind yourself "just what it is" before you delete it. This collection of thoughts this young man explains in simple, understanding terms defines his generation's honored call and allows us to see the landscape of their efforts after the dust has settled. Do you know one of these young men? Women? The very best this country had to offer. It is so easy for each of us to scroll d<span class="text_exposed_show">own to the next post this social media forum offers as I have done so many times, or you can simply click on this link, and follow your heart... Warning now, as it just might disturb your soul as well as incite a rage long suppressed at the failure history has collected to judge "our" generation's honored resolve! As you proceed through and process his reflections of the "way things are," ask yourself if we are not once again turning our back on the very best that stepped forward to right a very defined wrong? And the powers that be? We give them yet another free pass as to proceed with our grandchildren's generation without a moral conviction other than there own personal self-gain. </span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show">Posted June 28 from my evening home</span><br />
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Our constitution was a Declaration of Independence from English rule yet at the same time a Declaration of Dependence to that document's <strong><em>Supreme Author</em></strong>, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob! Thank you Pastor Nathan Martin for such a heart warming message today. And to those that can't remember, here is a reminder:<br />
<a href="http://nation.foxnews.com/paul-harvey/2012/03/21/1965-if-i-were-devil-warning-nation-paul-Harvey" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://nation.foxnews.com/paul-harvey/2012/03/21/1965-if-i-were-devil-warning-nation-paul-Harvey</a><br />
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Posted June 29 after Church services at Christian Challenge.<br />
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<br />Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-33726982503180582482014-05-01T20:56:00.004-05:002014-07-08T16:02:29.839-05:00Facebook Quotes for May 2014<em>My Facebook post from 2013 started in January and ran through the entire year for twelve long months. Friends trying to keep up with it told me it was difficult to start at the beginning of the only "true blog" I keep and arrow down to the last post. This year, I will po</em><em>st my blog from one month to the next as a separate story throughout the 2014 calendar year? If you find yourself remotely interested in what goes on in my thoughts and mind, please take the time to join and let me know you are here. I personally enjoy every fingerprint that is left here and appreciate your comments even more. There are occasional short stories I do post along with my Facebook Quotes Blog so if you have the time to join, again, please do, I am still trying to figure out who my favorite fan actually is. Their name is <strong>Anonymous</strong>! No last name. Imagine that.</em><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">MAY</span></strong><br />
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<strong> </strong>Incredible that this is the 1st day of the 5th month of the 21st century's 15th year. That's right. Count the years on your fingers now, starting with the year 2000! Don't forget the 1900's were really the 20th century? It is the same math that proves I am in the 4th year of my 7th decade and I'm 63. It has nothing to do with the new "common core" math. Speaking of common core math, I have a friend that teaches this stuff in a real North American school classroom. She shared with me one of the math problems and as I recall, it was something like this: You mention a cow, horse and chicken and ask the students how many total legs are present on the three animals. In her accelerated class of gifted children, an answer was projected above the rest. "12 legs," rang out loud and clear and one of the students said, "girl, you be loss yo mind? A chicken ain't got four legs!" The student looked at her challenger and responded with firm accuracy, "Ery box a chicken we get from Popeye's always have four legs in it!" The honest reply resonated with solid approval throughout the classroom as my friend stood there wondering why in the world she was progressively embracing the dumbing down of America after working so hard for her Masters? So you see, regardless of how we count time or register numbers, I also know this first day of every May, for the rest of my life, will find favor in my mind as 3 years earlier on this date, our Navy Seals took out Osama Bin Laden. I had originally thought it was the second of May, but that is when I actually heard the wonderful news on the news. I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing. I was in Arlington, Texas with my best friend wishing I had some Xanax to minimize a lump in the old tender throat brought on by stress. Some numbers, dates, places, events, and friends we will never forget! May is a very good month with many of those made and still to be made...<br />
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Posted late May 1 from my home<br />
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Today's post is extensive and very deep for me. It encompasses a broad spectrum of emotional ups and downs in the early winter of my life. It all begins with this September 18 post from my Facebook Quotes of 2013 blog collection. Indulge me if you have the time:<br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> I sit beside my river's slow moving waters as the gates of dawn remain yet arrived. My draw bridge is elevated and darkened this morning as the 24/7 repair work obviously ceased for last night's crews. Highlighted by distant urban lighting, as they sit upon her approaches are what appears to be the pre-historic silhouetted pose of construction cranes. There they sit quietly in the humid darkness waiting for their designed intent to be used by gathering work crews. It is silent here, except for the sounds of man made <span class="text_exposed_show">clutter as I watch and listen. Everything I see and hear is doing what it was designed by man to do. I sit back in my seat and stare at the top of my draw bridge focusing on her highest point. There a red covered light attracts my attention as it blinks in perfect sync as its only purpose is to mark its existence to low flying aircraft. So as the morning light slowly gives the color to our awakening existence, the sounds and sight of God's creations gives purpose for my existence! I was created as were you, <em> as the most perfect of all of His creations</em> to enjoy everything He prepared for us for this purpose, for His pleasure and for us to Worship Him. May this song touch your heart as it touched mine. And as I grow older, I was told just today that life was found in the womb of my youngest daughter. Late April? Early May? </span></span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"> My river lies almost tranquil this morning under a partly cloudy sky. My navigational buoy that my U-tern used to sit upon and chatter at me from, disappeared from its anchor a couple of months ago. In its former spot this morning is a float<span class="text_exposed_show">ing mass of logs and assorted junk! A female mallard duck swims around and investigates the accumulation before she paddles across the river leaving an undisturbed wake behind her. I sit here waiting for my cell phone to ring. Will they induce her this morning? Let me ponder this thought over an egg mc muffin. And induce her they have. Maybe a baby before 11 this am?</span><span class="text_exposed_hide"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_hide"> With this call, I drive to the hospital to join Linda in the labor and delivery room of Rapides Women's and Children's Hospital around 0715 or so... Somewhat put off that they had delayed the introduction of "labor inducing" drugs an hour later than anticipated, I realized my expected "time of delivery" of 1100 hours was going to be delayed an hour or so. Figure that. I know my daughter pretty well, don't you think? And sure enough, the doctor comes in at 0915 with 4cm dilated and breaks the water. My post just informs those interested:</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_hide"><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">"Water has bro-ken, like the first morn-ing; Poppy is wait-ing, like times before!" Sung to the tune, Morning Has Broken, by whoever sings it. Or should I be humming, "Garret Ferret by morning, up to six inna house," as remembered to the tune of Amarillo By Morning? And the little contraction hills on the monitor become more defined.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_hide"><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> From this moment until delivery, things began to unravel in anticipated expectations as this was the fourth time for me to experience this chartered air space. Understand now, the last two deliveries were performed "au naturale" by my baby daughter with assistance from her aptly capable, Daddy coach, of course. As contractions began their Divinely appointed misery upon her system, this time however, my daughter discovered the sciatic nerve in her right leg, that had given her problems throughout this pregnancy was determined to add insult to the already injurious labor pains. Probably an hour and a half before delivery, I pushed her hair back from her teary eyes and told her, "baby, you might consider an epidural this time!" Linda had already been snapped at a couple of times and her husband knew to keep himself out of view, in the corner of the room just in case Paige decided to tell everyone present his parents weren't married in cruel and hateful terms. As the epidural team came in to administer the epidural, they asked us to leave the room... I'm sure they had to use a cattle prod or some form of electrical shock on my daughter at this point and did NOT want us to be witness to something they had to do that was essential to their survival!</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_hide"><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> I walked over to the main hospital's McDonalds to get some coffee and joined everyone back in the labor and delivery room about 30 minutes later. I found my daughter had survived the exorcism and was more pleasant with everyone. *</span></span>whew* Seems like I had always been the only one immune from her bite in the previous three deliveries. Recognizing the epidural was possibly a God send, I suggested to her husband, Michael, that he take the coaching position as the nursing staff prepared for a full term little baby boy to join this world. I prepared my cell phone to capture more of Michael's response than the delivery and capture it I did! And it is a thrill every time I look at it. I still become overwhelmed with emotion! Right here, I could write an entire short story. Bottom line... When Garret made his easy (as always) entry into this world, Michael looked away and realized that I was recording him! As he tried to "man up," a baby's cry reminded me 2000 years had passed and I panned my Iphone camera to a rather sensitive area as the most beautiful sound of a fussy baby boy flushed me with emotion. The Doctor asked Michael if he wanted to cut the cord and he flatly stated "hell no!" With that said, I stood up and said, "Doctor, allow me!" The doctor was surprised at the daddy's response and with my insistence, handed me the scissors. The separation of child from mother was physically achieved with the doctor smiling and stating, "you act like you know what you're doing!" It was a couple of minutes, but I regained enough composure to post this:</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> Folkses, Garret Ferret is here at 12:01 and Poppy cut the cord!! That is it! My last grand baby that I will be this emotionally involved with!</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> My time of birthing babies has come and ended today with over 35 years of experience starting with the assistance and delivery of unknown children as an EMT. From there as responsibility of fatherhood tapped me on the shoulders I had an intense desire to become personally involved with my own children's delivery and birth! My oldest son was a caesarian section and I watched every slice. The vertical cut of the tummy, horizontal slice of the uterus and removal of my boy as I watched him take his first breath. This was followed years later by the natural delivery of my baby girl Paige... How I remember Linda focusing intently on what I was telling her as she gave me my little girl. The very one I was present with today. It seemed like just yesterday that my grandbabies started coming... Micah, Mckinzi, Ashton, Katie, Gabby and today's finale, Garret. Those were the ones I witnessed take their first breath in this world. I cut the cord on Mckinzi and Garret, but every one of them will share one common bond. I was the first human to place my lips on their face. This picture below documents for me the last time I will welcome a life into this world that I am so intimately involved. Now this event is bound for the remainder of my life in digital format. Yes, I am sad. I will only share these moments again at a distance, possibly as a Great-Grandfather if I live long enough, but a friend shared this thought on this picture that I placed on facebook: Congratulations, Rod. He Looks like he is smiling! My answer was from my heart! "<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".p.1:3:1:$comment10203531810314248_10203532115201870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".p.1:3:1:$comment10203531810314248_10203532115201870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".p.1:3:1:$comment10203531810314248_10203532115201870:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Certainly he is smiling, Caroline! Behind the prickly feel of my moustache, that boy feels the warmth, softness, and love of his Poppy's kiss. He is thinking, this experience matches his voice! I know who this man is..." And with those printed words to my friend, I again became emotionally engaged. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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</span><span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> And with this, I pass to the generation of my children that "Thank You" for allowing me to share in the beauty of the birth of your children. I hope when I am a distant ancestor, this pride of sharing in the birth of a child still touches hearts and you too, experience the emotional ride that goes with the first breath of life! From such a close perspective may a conservative root of your foundation establish itself in the firm soil of Faith. And so it was today, </span>as I </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent">post from my home the evening of May 6, 2014</span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent">Garret Mason Renbarger, weighing in at 8lbs 3oz and a 20" beginning.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"> I do not know if it has anything to do with the roots of my beginning or part of my musical conditioning as a youth/teen/adult. I do know that I can sit for hours at this laptop and glimpse the chiernony of David Downs as the violin of Mairead Nesbitt stills my every concern... As the Angelic voices of Chloe Agnew, Lisa Kelly and Lisa Lambe sooth my senses in heavenly refrains, adrenalin stimulates my mesmerized soul punctuated by the phenomenal percussion of Celtic Woman! I simply must "Believe" that someday before my eyes dim and my body is too fragile to move over a measured distance, I will be able to watch them perform and hear all of them for myself in person. They have digitally stimulated my heart like no other for years!! </span></span></span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"> A quick trip to You Tube and a search for Celtic Woman will introduce you to endless performances by this incredibly gifted and talented collection of musicians and vocalist! One song may simply start with the softness of a violin or flute and progress to the stimulating rhythm of the aptly capable percussionist of this trope. The enthusiasm of choreographed song and dance accompanied by a full orchestra then captures one's attention into a tunnel vision sort of trance. As for me, I am taken to a place only music can take me... Go ahead... Try one... "A Spaceman Came Traveling" with Lisa Lambe or "Nocturne" with Chloe Agnew, if you may. "Follow on" with Lisa Kelly will still you as well. Really want a nice one with all of them? "Sailing!" Feel the connection with the audience! This is why I wish to be at a concert at some distant time and place. I personally would hope that the very people I have mentioned here will perform when I am in attendance. And yes, they have been as close as Shreveport/Bossier City in my recent past! It will happen. To be in the presence of such beauty with those that share my desire for this sort of music would be of heavenly proportions... At least for me.</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"> I was sitting at my laptop computer this afternoon, kicked back in my chair with my legs propped up on the edge of my breakfast island. As is the norm, Meggie Mew, my little gray stray, launched into my lap, curled her tail around her front feet, and stared into my eyes. I could read her mind so <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRnPKRvVwe2k5f7h9jJ3ltZuoW7ywWEG29Au-uM8hCSmOLd5WcifuY9KL0OOCTJnpk8DSy8mpwNNkZEOSzrPyQCBzDjajFBI3AvFbzXXK6xlNh4fUxuADut696ngv6zxqrywcEa1BtJI9/s1600/MeggieMew2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKRnPKRvVwe2k5f7h9jJ3ltZuoW7ywWEG29Au-uM8hCSmOLd5WcifuY9KL0OOCTJnpk8DSy8mpwNNkZEOSzrPyQCBzDjajFBI3AvFbzXXK6xlNh4fUxuADut696ngv6zxqrywcEa1BtJI9/s1600/MeggieMew2.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a>clearly as she spoke to me. "Listen to me," she boldly projected! Capturing my attention totally, she continued. "This is critically important to me and I want to know the truth!!" Well, I'm taken back at this point, but felt this particular conversation might have some merit. So I acknowledged her control of the situation encouraging her to continue. Then the big question, "Did you ever have a dog you loved as much as you do me??" </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"><span class="userContent"><span data-reactid=".3o.1:3:1:$comment10203573035464851_10203573551717757:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:2"> You see, </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".3o.1:3:1:$comment10203573035464851_10203573551717757:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".3o.1:3:1:$comment10203573035464851_10203573551717757:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".3o.1:3:1:$comment10203573035464851_10203573551717757:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".3o.1:3:1:$comment10203573035464851_10203573551717757:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0">I knew she was serious. I could tell it in those beautiful green eyes. I asked her, "Meggie, do you know of or ever remember me talking to anyone about a dog named Thumper or Fab?" "How about Sugar, Trooper or Missy?" She just looked at me in silence, waiting. So, I continued... "Okay then, let me ask you this question. Have you ever</span></span><span data-reactid=".3o.1:3:1:$comment10203573035464851_10203573551717757:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".3o.1:3:1:$comment10203573035464851_10203573551717757:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".3o.1:3:1:$comment10203573035464851_10203573551717757:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0"> heard me talk about Libby Lu Big Dog?" I prodded as I shook my head from side to side subliminally telling her, "No you haven't!" I could tell from the look on her face she was beginning to follow my lead. I distantly detected a slight resolve on her part, maybe?? I tested my feeling by reaching out and sure enough, she let me pull her a little closer as I gently scruffed her neck and said this, "Meggie Mew, it doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, Really?" She jumped off my lap, went to the door and meowed. I stood up and walked over to the French door to let her out go outside for a little while. Then I told her in a very nice tone, "Sweetheart, you need to quit talking to that dog momma has locked up in the washroom. He is a sick puppy and tells lies!" Last time we had a conversation like this, she brought me a mouse when she returned to the house. I love this little feline. Sure hope she never asks me about Charco and Scrunch. She has pretty much helped me get over those two. Whoda thunk it!</span></span></span></span></span></span> I have a weakness for that stuff...</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"> I guess I should have cautioned my Southern acquaintances of the consequences you might encounter if you allow yourself to become befriended by any true Conservative whose entire life was formed, founded, and forged in the Northeastern parts of our Continental United States. I know that was a long sentence, but I settled on it after changing it three times. Anyway, I fell victim to one of these "marveled" individuals, by chance, through a popular social networking enterpris<span class="text_exposed_show">e most of us are commonly addicted to. From this casual beginning, periodic interactions with each other through mutual friends over several weeks, made me realize that despite our geographical differences and to my surprise, I pleasantly embraced her views of conservatism despite her Roman Catholic indoctrination and my Southern Baptist Heritage. Besides, it didn't take too terribly long for me to realize that she was smarter than I was despite the fact we were educated in State Institutions, worlds apart. Never one time as we jumped into the polarizing worlds of religion and politics were her views left hanging for me to choose from or else. We simply found ourselves in perfect orbit around our core beliefs. She was able to introduce me, quite by accident, to someone named Andrew Klavan, pronounced Clay-vin, and this is where you might yield to my caution as this discovery has consumed a bit of my time. Hey! If you have stayed with me this far, then go to <strong><em>YouTube.com</em></strong> and in the search line, type in that name. <strong> Andrew Klavan</strong>. Several of his simply understood vocal editorials will appear... Sucked me right in... Try it for yourself? Oh yeah. Suzanne? It is good to be your friend. And feel free to reach out and touch anyone you find grazing around my wall. They are good people!</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="userContent"><strong><em> Please click on the link below and listen to this video of President Ronald Reagan. This is my 2014 Memorial Day tribute to the Veterans of the United States of America, and my prayer for those who are still strong among us! </em></strong></span></div>
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Aren't we still Americans??? This is my prayer for the men and women who made this very day possible for me and those I love. That they are never forgotten! That the spirit of their fallen will strengthen me as I resist those that belittle their sac<span class="text_exposed_show">rifices! I ask, Father God, that you heal the minds and bodies of this generation of Heroes who answered our nation's call, that YOU place in them the gift of Leadership! It is these warriors that sought Your comfort in the Hell of battle that know YOU comfort the souls of those they fought with that fell among them. These are the men and women I ask YOU, Almighty God, to anoint! That those of us that dwell in the land of the free that still believe in Heroes will send to State Capitols all across our nation, encourage, and support them to take their seats in the once hallowed halls of our Nation's Government. We know that if YOU so place this Gift of Leadership in their hearts, these men and women that bear the scars of our country's resolve, will once again restore YOUR name in our Nation's Capitol. Our Schools. Our Churches. Our Families!</span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show"> <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".5e.1:3:1:$comment10203657419454398_10203657471095689:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".5e.1:3:1:$comment10203657419454398_10203657471095689:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".5e.1:3:1:$comment10203657419454398_10203657471095689:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">2 Chronicles 7:14 <em><strong>If my people</strong></em>, who are called by my name, <strong><em>will humble themselves and pray</em></strong> and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and <strong><em>I will forgive their sin</em></strong> and <strong><em>will heal their land</em></strong>.</span></span></span> </span></div>
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Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5309202044768500139.post-53330269470736392282014-04-01T20:30:00.001-05:002014-04-30T22:53:30.776-05:00Facebook Quotes for April 2014<em>My Facebook post from 2013 started in January and ran through the entire year for twelve long months. Friends trying to keep up with it told me it was difficult to start at the beginning of the only "true blog" I keep and arrow down to the last post. This year, I will po</em><em>st my blog from one month to the next as a separate story throughout the 2014 calendar year? If you find yourself remotely interested in what goes on in my thoughts and mind, please take the time to join and let me know you are here. I personally enjoy every fingerprint that is left here and appreciate your comments even more. There are occasional short stories I do post along with my Facebook Quotes Blog so if you have the time to join, again, please do, I am still trying to figure out who my favorite fan actually is. Their name is <strong>Anonymous</strong>! No last name. Imagine that.</em><br />
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<strong><span style="font-size: large;">April</span></strong><br />
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I was around 4 years old when you came along. I was too young to understand the April Fools teasing that I had a baby sister. Didn't take long to realize competetion for mom's affection had taken the form of a little baby girl. So I took it as a life mission to be as mean as a brother could be. Until PMS entered the game on your side, did I realize that I had a formadible foe I might should respect. Time moved us apart which probably saved my life, but I also came to grips with what a gift I really had in my baby sister. Mom's chocolate pie set the bar for sweetness. With time however, you proved just by being you, the sweetness of unconditional love. My baby sister, how can I say Happy Birthday? For many it is just words, but for me it is a condition of the heart. How many more birthdays we will share is far less than what has passed us, but I wish for you the very best during the last year of your half century decade. I find it easy to say now, I love you, and Happy Birthday...<br />
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".1c.1:3:1:$comment10203282750127899_8086947:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".1c.1:3:1:$comment10203282750127899_8086947:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".1c.1:3:1:$comment10203282750127899_8086947:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".1c.1:3:1:$comment10203282750127899_8086947:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0"> For you to understand the base of this post, it is almost imperative for you read the final post on my March blog that I posted on the 31st. It sets the stage for what I am posting now. I was told yesterday by my daughter that my "pending" grandson's name is Garret, not Garrett! This means she is obviously doing better and "Garret NOT so FEMALE ferret" is still in the oven gaining the strength he needs to compete when he does enter this world. I'm not </span></span><span data-reactid=".1c.1:3:1:$comment10203282750127899_8086947:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".1c.1:3:1:$comment10203282750127899_8086947:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".1c.1:3:1:$comment10203282750127899_8086947:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0">sure how strong my daughter is, however. This pregnancy has been harder on her than the last one. I hope her health holds out and she can go full term with this little boy. Thanks for the prayers and thoughts...</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> I have had several friends the last couple of days, ask how my daughter Paige and her unborn son, Garret are doing since last weekend's hospital scare. This is what I told a friend in Baton Rouge just this morning: Paige is at that point of her third trimester where she is ready to get this over with. It appears that every time she runs to the hospital to investigate aches and pains commonly associated with this term of her pregnancy, Garret convinces medical personnel <em>he</em> is not ready to engage the world. He prefers to stay right where he is! So, as it was with Gabby a couple of years and a few months ago, it appears this will be an hour to hour, day to day, slow dance until Garret alone decides to give it up. I personally think Paige is going to "push" the issue until Garret "slips out" and gives Poppy the traditional High 5 as to join the family. I'm seriously considering going to Alaska until he and Gabby get out of diapers. There are some things to which a grandfather should never ever be subjected, again! </span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Posted April 3 from my home.</span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> I was given a small booklet today by a close friend entitled, <strong><em>In God We Trust. The Faith of the Men on Our Money, </em></strong>by Steve Casey. So many things I found interesting as I read through it twice in one sitting. Oh ye of little faith, as I thought of myself and countless others! No wonder the atheist and agnostic amongst us are motivated by Satan himself to do the best they can to turn us against the Almighty! Here is a quote from one of these men we grew up with historically. <strong><em>"</em></strong>It is impossible to account for the creation of the universe, without the agency of a Supreme Being. It is impossible to govern the universe without the aid of a Supreme Being. It is impossible to reason without arriving at a Supreme Being." This speaker continued, "Religion is as necessary to reason, as reason is to religion. The one cannot exist without the other. A reasoning being would lose his reason, in attempting to account for the great phenomena of nature, had he NOT a Supreme Being to refer to." The speaker in the above quotes, has his picture captured on the Currency of the United States of America's One Dollar Bill. He is considered historically as "The Father of Our Country." I think we should doubt not his faith?</span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}">Posted April 3 from my office</span></div>
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As the early morning light begins to filter through the window of the bedroom, my mockingbird encourages me to engage the day. I've been laying here in the comfortable bedroom of my sister, Nona's home in Monroe, where I spent Friday night. She and I sat up and talked until 00:30 this morning before we both retired. I guess somewhere between 00:45 and 01:00 I finally drifted off into a restless sleep. I have too many of those as of late and at 04:15 I was wide awake. As is the norm, I grab the IPhone and Safari allows me to read a handful of my short stories until I hear movement in the kitchen around 06:10 or so! Coffee is ready and Nona's Shih Tzu, Emmy Lou comes in to remind me she needs some attention. I am attending a tactical firearms class as a student in West Monroe today. The shooting should keep me entertained throughout the day as we are expecting to put more than 300 rounds down range in an 8 hour class. It is the drive back to Pineville this afternoon that I might find somewhat less entertaining. Sleep? I have been here before! Dreadfully tired to the point of illness yet anxiety has me fast awake?? What memories must I remove in order to allow my mind and soul the equilibrium necessary for deep, restful sleep?</div>
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Post April 5 from my home </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jP40T7HL7ojC7eeK-wYFjJk1D39A-3fBHmsbgS9ulT_UcY3zIb10Y1_RwQpawo6no_ZtKx4PQNux_Fhr1dDOSN6VCZtxKIdoiLwjK7qw8Pgt66STLTuC731RkhlilH-HfLaniMBCcLkX/s1600/023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jP40T7HL7ojC7eeK-wYFjJk1D39A-3fBHmsbgS9ulT_UcY3zIb10Y1_RwQpawo6no_ZtKx4PQNux_Fhr1dDOSN6VCZtxKIdoiLwjK7qw8Pgt66STLTuC731RkhlilH-HfLaniMBCcLkX/s1600/023.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".4v.1:3:1:$comment10203344780678624_4583601:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".4v.1:3:1:$comment10203344780678624_4583601:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".4v.1:3:1:$comment10203344780678624_4583601:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0"><span data-reactid=".4v.1:3:1:$comment10203344780678624_4583601:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.0.$end:0:$0:0"> OMG!! Just saved!!! I'm sitting here and little Gabby runs up to me and says, "pee pee, pee pee, Poppy!" Immediately I jump up and think out loud, YES!! I excitedly guide her to the closest potty which is in my bedroom! "Pee, pee for Poppy," I gleefully encourage her!! We are both happy, as I reach down to take off the diaper and surprise, surprise!! MAJOR DIA</span></span><span data-reactid=".4v.1:3:1:$comment10203344780678624_4583601:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".4v.1:3:1:$comment10203344780678624_4583601:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4v.1:3:1:$comment10203344780678624_4583601:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0">PER FULL!!! Oh heck no! Not again! I snatch her up with said diaper still attached to that nasty little butt and sit her on the potty and DARE her to move while I summon assistance!!! I scream down the hall for a mother or grandmother, at this point it didn't matter. Mom to the rescue! I go back and sit down at my computer where it all began and in just minutes, here she comes. Gabby pats me on the leg and my daughter said, "Well daddy, she still pee peed for Poppy!" Well, maybe so, but Poppy didn't need to deal with the rest! And I thought I might tell her that!</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".4v.1:3:1:$comment10203344780678624_4583601:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".4v.1:3:1:$comment10203344780678624_4583601:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".4v.1:3:1:$comment10203344780678624_4583601:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3"><span data-reactid=".4v.1:3:1:$comment10203344780678624_4583601:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0"><span data-reactid=".4v.1:3:1:$comment10203344780678624_4583601:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.3.0.$end:0:$0:0">Posted April 10 from my home...</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> Sitting at my river this morning, I watched a full moon slip slowly to a defined position in the western horizon. I distinctly remember posting a picture of this same moon suspended like a football between the lift uprights of my drawbridge like a kicked field goal. This morning, the celestial kicker missed far, far left. I wonder how this could be? I also wonder on parallel thought processes<span class="text_exposed_show"> of the people we interact with on social media. So many people we know but what about those "meteorite people" that enter our atmosphere that could burn bright in our life and we never see them because we are just not looking in the right direction or paying attention? And then at some moment at some unappointed time, we glance to the darkness of infinity and across the sky there is that one "meteorite person" we do see. A spectical of sorts as the short presentation of its entry into our atmosphere sends a special invitation you just feel. Just like the millions of others that enter our sphere of cognizant reasoning everyday, yet this one stands out. I wonder why that same celestial athelete passed that one just for me? I collect it and add yet another friend to my facebook list. I think it will stay even though its resting place is far, far away... Sometimes these surprises lift us to another level of self discovery and resolution of understanding of the blessings we so take for granted. Are we not blessed? Abundantly?</span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show">Posted April 16 from my river.</span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"> Michael Buble's "Crazy Love" just played on Pandora and for some reason I smiled and enjoyed the entire song. I sat at my river today and my mind carefully sifted through this past month as the waning moments filter memories in short and long term databases of my mind... I focused immediately on a particular lesson my river revealed to me concerning the rise and fall of her pooling stages that control<span class="text_exposed_show"> her gradual decent into infinity. I am reminded that this event is controlled by man. "As I pool before you," she says, "I find myself entertaining your mind once again. Just remember, what you see is a reflection of past memories. I will visit you from time to time and it is ok to remember me, but possess me you will never again." And with that, I smile knowing that when she re-engages my thoughts, when man causes locks and dams to close and gather her waters to pool, she is only there to see if she might possess me yet once again. Pleasingly tempting, but never again... And as April passes into May, I still await the arrival of my latest grandson, Garret. I am told his birth will be induced the first Monday in May. It has been an interesting year. </span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><em>And my friends comfort my resolve for the month with their late evening comments.</em></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><strong>Becky W. Harper: </strong><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Love your gift of words Rodman!</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><strong>Martha D. Compton: </strong><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span aria-hidden="true" class="emoticon_text">:)</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span aria-hidden="true" class="emoticon_text"><strong>C. Carter: </strong><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:2"> </span><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Love Buble'! <span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">You and Don Bell singing the Everly Brothers "Dream" in 1966 was one of the treasures of my life....</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span aria-hidden="true" class="emoticon_text"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span aria-hidden="true" class="emoticon_text"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><div data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491472545829:0.0.$right.0.$left">
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span aria-hidden="true" class="emoticon_text"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><strong>Linda P. Davidson: </strong><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491472545829:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491472545829:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491472545829:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Your words brought a smile to my face. Yes, I enjoy your words but the fact you wrote again is the best part.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490908971740:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203490944692633:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span aria-hidden="true" class="emoticon_text"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491083336099:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491090576280:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0"><span data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491472545829:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body"><span class="UFICommentBody" data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491472545829:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0"><span data-reactid=".2i.1:3:1:$comment10203490818449477_10203491472545829:0.0.$right.0.$left.0.0.0:$comment-body.0.$end:0:$0:0">Posted April 30 from my home</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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Rodney S. Fergusonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17978436694904673522noreply@blogger.com0