DRIVING FOR DINOS

Okay,  I”m really weary tonight.   Come along to a little museum with me,  but take note of the “Summer Silliness” in the Tag Line.

“Driving for dinosaurs”

Today was my  “tourist” day to search for dinosaurs — and I found them —

There must be a lot of other dinosaur lovers out here in the West, because there were dinosaurs all over.

I did a double-take when I saw this one welcoming me to the gas pumps!   (Now, I don’t for a second believe that petroleum comes from smushed dinosaurs;  nevertheless,  for some reason,  gasoline is called “fossil fuel.”  I think this guy is safe from our hungry automobiles.)

So, these guys seemed to know where to go to find the REAL dinosaurs:

(I gave up a couple meals today to be able to afford these guys for me and Cooper. . . .)

Here was our destination:

“Wyoming State Museum”

Their dinosaur exhibit — who named this?

R.ex   I.n    P.ieces    ?

There were a few nice arrangements to teach children about dinosaurs, in general.     I was used to visiting the huge professional “dinosaur” museums in Montana, last year.   This was more of a small town effort,  but I accepted it for what it was, and enjoyed being reminded of things I like about dinosaurs,  like size comparisons:

“Man and  dinosaur femur.”

Many of the bones were inexplicably black:

There was no one around to ask why.     The museum was quite proud of having this on display.  It’s a complete skull of an Allosaurus . . .   which they named Big Al, of course.

I got in on the comparisons:
That’s not quite a dinosaur fossil, but rather the heel bone of a North American mastodon.    Oh, how I would have loved to see these creatures in great herds on our Plains.   I put my (blurry) hand next to the heel and felt very small.

Moving up ahead even further in time,   the museum had very thoughtful displays of the North American Indian tribes.

They had many artifacts from the past few centuries, with explanations that were interesting as well as descriptive.   (I know there is quite a skill to writing these little signs that museums display.   I have a friend who writes well, and I admired her even more when I found out that she’s written many of the signs used in our own state museum displays.)

We promote and protect the culture of the North American Indians.    We are also fostering the recovery of many of their skills.    One day out here in Wyoming, some thoughtless teenagers stole a famous ancient artifact called “Turtle Rock.”    It was made about three centuries ago – I think by the Shoshone — and it was visited in situ by many tourists.

Eventually, the rock, that round rock there with the faint painting of a turtle on it,  was recovered.   This time it was placed in the State Museum, in a display that looks just like where it was first made out in the rocky wilderness.

It’s very much worth it to visit museums.    There is much to be proud of – and sometimes we need a little self-congratulations.

 

THE ANSWER TO AN UNASKED QUESTION

There is a question I’ve never asked –

See, my Dad (my Daddy when I was six years old)  was a switchman for the Soo Line when it came through the Chicago suburbs where we lived.    Just for about a year.    He told me that just recently, and he talked a lot about it, but it was such new news to me,   that I hardly took it all in.   Fascinating.    I thought nothing of it when I was six.   But I know what a switchman does and I know how important the job is.

Hubbie’s uncle was an Inspector for the Rock Island Line.   He lived way on the other side of Illinois, and I’ve just recently made his acquaintance . . .  and I asked him lots of questions about what an Inspector does,  but again, too much information to take it all in.

I’ve always taken trains for granted.   But the question I never asked was –  how do the trains get put together?     Or:  who decides which cars and how many cars an engine is supposed to pull?    Who makes up the trains?   (That’s one question.)

First destination on this road trip was the Golden Spike (Bailey) Railroad Yard –  the largest railroad yard in the United States.   And that’s where all of our trains are put together – as ordered – per whoever orders those cars to go someplace at a certain time.

You’d need a lot of space for the nation’s largest railroad yard, and I drove across a lot of narrow country roads,  through flat, green, endless land.   But you can see the Tower way up ahead.

That’s what the Tower and parking looks like.    Inside the lobby are very welcoming people who seem pleased that you’ve stopped by.  There are little videos, a great gift shop, and many displays about the history of the Union Pacific.

The best thing is the lookout platforms on the 7th and the 8th floors.   The 7th floor is open, the 8th floor is enclosed.   You get a great view of most of the rail yard – I think there is much more that can’t be seen, unless you were even higher.

To the far left, which you can hardly see,  is a giant building with many openings for trains to go into.  this is where they are repaired and tuned up.  Or whatever.   There is a mass of white tanker cars,  but just to the left of them is a darker area on the ground, which is actually one of their Hump Tracks where selected cars are allowed to roll down into the rest of the train that they are going to be attached to.    That’s how they get the cars to attach together.

Here is a blurry close-up of the white tankers.   For a while I was standing next to two men who were also looking out over the train yard, and now and then they’d say excitedly, “There it goes!!”    “He’s got that just right now!”   “Oh, they’d better watch it!”   “Here comes another one!!”

It took me a while to realize they were talking about the same very, very   s l o w l y    moving cars that I was looking at, although you had to know where to look, because there was hardly any “motion” at all.     These two men, who obviously were former train men themselves, knew exactly the hard work and effort that was going on, and I had a new appreciation for this almost motionless  activity.

There was one other indication of work being done:  an almost constant, eerie science fiction background noise of faint metallic squeals of  brakes being applied here and there.   There was also a constant faint rumbling of engines starting up and then stopping.  (They didn’t have to go far to do what they were doing.)     Vibrations,  rumblings, squealings….  it was quite noisy when you paid attention;  like “noisy”  with the volume turned down.

I stayed here a long time, almost two hours, just looking out over the railroad cars and tracks – almost bored,  but caught by those unearthly sounds and enormity of it all.  I looked down, too —

Through the railings:

Lots of flags down there – flags that represent each state that the Union Pacific goes through, and that is most of our states.

I tried to absorb as much of this experience as I could;  I probably will never come back, so I wanted to go when I was sure I had “enough.”

Down the elevators, back down in the lobby, I looked a second time at the displays.

There were fresh-baked cookies and tea and coffee for all of us.  It was an anniversary of some kind; for them;   there is a lot of history here.

Buffalo Bill played a big role with the Union Pacific, or vice versa.  He certainly popularized the use of railroads to carry entertainment to all parts of the country.

But, you see —  this tourist stop turned out to be not really for entertainment purposes.   I was expecting to be wowed and amazed, but it wasn’t like that.    I was quieted and stilled inside, watching something far larger than I had ever known existed.    They’re not just “trains” –  they’re . . . all this.

For some “adult” consideration, you can view this yard on YouTube.   Search terms include  “Golden Spike Tower.”     My favorite one is this seven-minute video –

Take your time.

 

UNITED STATE OF (WIDE-OPEN) AMERICA

So . . . the road trip has begun.

Hours and hours and hours and hours of beautiful wide open roads!!    I quickly left the Midwest and drove into hundreds of miles of crop and pasture lands.    I’ve been here before, I’ve driven these roads before,   but I’m always delighted to feel my mind enlarge and my spirit open up to receive so much — I have to be right there  in order to experience it.

Miles later I took another photo:

Saw a sign coming up this time.   Ha!

My car loves these roads:  forward, fast, free and alone!

Here’s the scenery out the side window:

This is ours!    This is all our country!    Useful, fertile, beautiful land.  There is ROOM for people and hope and imagination and freedom and planning for the future — in case you ever feel the need to step away from it all and feel less hassled and  crowded in on.

Of course, the open roads are easier on a car than on the driver.   The bright sun, like a hot blue-white welder’s arc, bleaches out all the color and causes eye fatigue.    And open roads can be hypnotic to the human mind.   I promised Son I’d be careful about getting too groggy.

So my faithful little blue car found the remedy –

A little coffee shop dedicated to espresso –  a  little gift to my sleepy brain.   Thank you,  York, Nebraska.

It’s fun to read signs along the way:

Good for a chuckle.   Good for the next 400 miles.

More western driving today.    I’m off in search of more dinosaurs . . .   as those who know me might expect.

Deo gratias!   You have given us a beautiful planet.

 

‘NUFF SAID

Dinner tonight.

 

(I’m not very good at double entendres.)

(I didn’t know they’d be . . . sliced.   I just thought they’d be the shape of,  you know,   what they are.)

 

LOOKING INTO THOSE DARK SHADOWS

 

A CHRISTIAN

Beheading or crucifixion.

2014

 

Is* la^^m-controlled countries.  (Iraq, this photo.)

 

 

(Sometimes I do look into those dark shadows that I wrote about in the last post,  the darkness around my safe little garden.)

 

AFRAID TO LOOK

This is another “random observation”  from near The Spruce Tunnel.

I woke up one morning, looked out the window, and saw this little creature.

We have quite a few of these around here.   I guess there’s plenty to eat in our back yard, around the pond.

I know they’re supposed to fly around and land on cool …  weeds and things.   Cool and wet.  They’re not supposed to dry themselves out on hot sunny windows.

I kept coming back to him.  We had a lot of dragonflies that day.   Every time I got the camera ready,  they’d flit away.   But this one was still there.   He turned his head once,  but he stayed there in the dry heat, stuck to the window.

I listened to the television news for a while.   The news was bad and was getting worse.  I thought, this news is giving me the same sense of discomfort as the poor stuck dragonfly.  I know things are getting bad, but I don’t know what to do about it.

Sometimes I’m almost afraid to look –

That’s a photo of a familiar corner of my garden.    The low but bright afternoon sun is casting “stripes” through the tree trunks.   I took the picture because of the contrast between light and dark,  but when I looked at the photo, I noticed something else.

Something else that didn’t happen.

See the dark shadows surrounding the garden?   Last week,  Son was mowing the lawn – with our push mower.   He walked around the right-hand side of that little garden area to throw some branches away, but he noticed a small animal in the bushes.  Not a squirrel, not a little dog,  but a very small fawn.  He said he’s never seen one that small.    We were glad he hadn’t used the noisy power mower.

You could study deer sociology, if you wanted to, back there.   Families,  mating behavior,  lone bucks, does, rogues, twins and triplet births, eating habits, playtime, etc.,   but you don’t think of a fawn that small, all alone.   I told Son that perhaps Mama was nearby, watching him, ready to defend.   Yeah, that’s what he thought too.

But that’s what we both hoped.    I tried to watch out my window more often for signs of Mama.   There was a big thunderstorm that night, followed by a few days of scorching heat.

The fact that I didn’t follow up (on the story),   that is, I never did see Mama,   doesn’t mean anything bad happened to the baby.

But, you know —   I just never looked.  I’ve not yet gone back around the little garden area…to look.

Just like with the dragonfly on my window all day,  I wouldn’t have known what to do.

 

Just keeping a small watch on my character.

LITTLE OBSERVATIONS NEAR THE SPRUCE TUNNEL

I live quite near the Spruce Tunnel, within walking distance if I want to challenge the traffic, and then  turn off into the countryside and confront the herds of turkeys, the deer, the coyotes, and our industrial-strength mosquitoes.    (Sighhhh…can’t take the City out of the Girl.)

Nevertheless,  I have some observations out here.

A few days ago I was feeling fairly optimistic and strong and capable.  I was taking care of the lawn, getting it ready for a little neglect during my upcoming road trip.   (Well, people temporarily in the house and the neighbors will be watching over things.)   But it was when I was having that sense of well-being and while I was sweeping the driveway that I noticed the broken egg.

Obviously,  I didn’t just sweep it away.  I looked and pondered;  my mind was busy, and my heart.

I was struck by two things – the beauty of that particular color (a bit washed out by the afternoon sun).   “Robin’s egg blue” we say,  but that doesn’t do it justice.  It’s a beautiful shade of blue, inhumanly beautiful.   No one even has eyes that color.  It’s compelling and delicate.

And the other thing that struck me was its delicacy and vulnerability.

I know that’s the way of things on this planet.

Some robins do just fine and hop around and eat worms.   Some robins don’t make it.

LIKE WALKING IN THE DARK

I took a walk this evening, just to get out,  get quiet,  get away from all the activity I had imposed on myself today.     There is much to do before a long road trip, and I’m already a bit nervous about all the packing and cleaning involved.

My body is still fighting some disease processes, and sometimes it gets very weak and fatigued – so then I’m doubly doubtful whether I’ll have what it takes to begin the westward journey.  I had to take some time out from these packing worries.

To walk around the “big block” in front of my house is .8 miles.   Less than a mile.   I walked slowly and had plenty of time to settle down my mind,   to “still” my turbulent thoughts.

“Be still and know that I am God. . .”    The Bible I read nowadays says “Be still and see that I am God. . .”     And then both versions go on to say:   “. . . I will be exalted among the nations, and I will be exalted in the earth.”

Be still, quiet your mind, hush yourself. . . because it’s not all about you,  it’s about Me, God is saying to us.

I can’t argue with that.   It’s a sure and strong idea.

As I came back around to my own house,   I looked down the road and noticed that our big familiar trees were presenting an interesting shape in the darkening sky.   My mind was “slow” enough to catch it.     It was there, waiting to be noticed.

I suppose much of life is like that –  Like taking a walk in the dark.   Can’t see much around you, but Big Things are there.

“Be still and know that I am . . .   the God Who Is There. . . .

WHAT’S IT – # 18

A long time ago  (in 2011, exactly)  I wrote a series of fun postings called “What’s It?”       I posted interesting photos that just have no common explanation.  Turns out I have another photo for you, and this is #18.

Now, as I mentioned a few days ago,  I am going to be on the road again soon.    I promise myself this time that I won’t get out of the car and hike for hours through wilderness and desert where there are signs that warn of bear, rattlesnake, or that give instructions about how to fight off a puma!!

But I will be traveling alone.

And I kind of wonder about signs like this.  Anyone know what I ought to be worried about?

 

 To see previous “What’s It”s   you can use the Search function, bottom, lower right column.    Maybe I’ll attempt to use the “Page” function that WordPress offers.  I always thought that would be a handy way to organize things.  

 

TUESDAY’S TRIBUTE TO ROMAN EMPIRE (11-06-12)

It’s not that I’m holding a grudge, it’s just that I’m in some kind of wonderment that my country allowed itself to be cleverly and professionally hoaxed for the second time a couple years ago — and so many don’t even  know it, let alone know how and why.

So –  Hats Off to Our Rulers –  very, very clever.

Here are two things I wish we’d learn:

CHILDREN GET HURT WHEN THEY ARE USED AS PAWNS.

CHILDREN GET HURT WHEN THEY ARE USED AS POLITICAL BARGAINING CHIPS. . . .

(EVEN WHEN THEY ARE CHILDREN OF FOREIGN COUNTRIES)

The Roman Empire had imperial rulers also, as the world has today.

The fall of the Roman Empire took a few generations, although I suspect it was “gone”  before most Roman citizens realized it.     The attacks by foreigners  (which they called barbarians)  were among the factors in its fall.

But direct attacks didn’t accomplish too much at first, not quickly enough.

Take a look at the direction of the arrows.    They show mass migrations of foreigners into the Roman Empire – beyond what the Empire could handle.   Food supplies were strained, economic problems resulted, the divided loyalty of the newcomers added unease and social strain – because these foreigners had no intention of becoming Roman,  they merely wanted the advantages that they saw the Roman citizens had.

The migrations of the foreigners (the many germanic tribes whom they called barbarians) overwhelmed every aspect of the Roman Empire.

The politicians tried to make use of the foreign population within the empire.

But in the end,  all the civilized world represented by Rome succumbed.

Above is an artist’s representation of the Sacking of Rome.    These same foreign “guests”  eventually rose up and overthrew their Roman “hosts.”

It really didn’t take too long to go from appeasing the foreigners — who had no intention of becoming Roman — and being defeated by the great numbers of foreigners within the  very porous borders of the Roman Empire.

Funny –  I did say “hats off”  to our present day Rulers.    But —  I wonder if they know anything about history of our own civilization?

And that’s my motivation for Tuesdays.   I wonder if enough Americans know. . . .

 

 

NEBRASKA: “ONE FOR THE BOOKS”

I’m going to be in Nebraska soon, this summer.   Summer travel across I-80 leaves one vulnerable to extreme weather, and so I was glued to the Weather channel this afternoon.

Storms can blow up over the Great Plains in a very short time.    There was a rare development of twin tornadoes, today, close together.

The Weather Channel said this will be “one for the books.”  Scientists will be studying today’s storms in Nebraska for a very long time.

There was even a “rope” tornado that was revolving around the larger “wedge” tornado.  Around and around the little tornado traveled around the larger tornado.

Aside from recording the meteorological marvels,  the Weather Channel did a heroic job in alerting the people ahead of the storm, warning them of what’s coming and what to do.    The storm chasers drove up as close as they could to the tornadoes and hopefully their videos helped to inform and to convince people to be prepared and to take action.

So, in preparation for my own travels, I’m keeping an eye on the general weather patterns across the Plains.  I’m also reading an old, old series of books written to celebrate the history of these states:

Coincidentally,  I had started with the one named “Nebraska.”   The story is more suitable to younger people, but the writer gives many details of geography, the weather, the beauties, and the dangers of Nebraska.   I’ve driven across Nebraska many times now, so these details are very interesting to me.

I’ve been absent here from the Tunnel for a while.   So much had gone on last week that no sooner did I begin to write about one issue than we were informed about another crisis.   And yet –  when I brought up some of these current events to my classes at the end of the week,  nearly everyone had no idea of what was going on.   And this seems to be normal for our population in general.

Today’s weather news provides an  obvious image in my mind:    It feels as though the Weather Channel is doing its job,  warning us of the coming tornado funnels, but what if no one in Nebraska paid heed today?

TUESDAY’S TRIBUTE: HOW TO TALK TO YOURSELF

Talk to yourself:  please do.   Because if you ask yourself questions, you’ll know  if the answer you’re giving yourself is honest – or not.   And if it’s not honest, anchored in reality,  you will know it down deep.

And,    as I look back on that fateful Tuesday, I  shake my head in grudging wonder and have to give our Rulers credit for pulling a fast one on this country.    For nothing is as it seems;  nothing is as we’re told; sometimes they get caught trying to give us certain (dishonest) impressions,  but most of the time we just don’t even ask the Next question – and there are plenty of questions to ask.

Often, the next question should be:  Cui bono?     Or, maybe in street language,   “What’s up with this?”     “Who’s behind this?”    If you hear it, read it, or see it,  and if it’s “mainstream”  (i.e., approved by our Rulers)  then you can be sure what you’ve heard, read, , or saw is a smokescreen, mean to give you certain feelings or impressions and blur what is really happening.

Behind all this obfuscation is a guiding principle applied to the whole world,  and a guiding principle for this country.      For the whole world:  Nothing must stand in the way of globalism.    Globalism must be promoted and funded and prepared for.      For this country,   the guiding principle is that America stands in the way –  America as it was, prosperous,moral and  law-abiding, hard-working, well-educated, a fiercely protective of individual liberties and personal freedom (and the necessary privacy….) –  The America that was would be independent and sovereign….and would not tolerate a Big State international governing force.

But how to bring America down?

Two ways.

One works real well:  Overload the system!    Overload, overwhelm, wait for the breakdown, come in with your “solution”  – a solution which always conforms to global guidelines.   (Of course, I’m quoting that diabolic pair:  Cloward and Pivens)

The second way to bring America down is by Stealth Socialism.   One of the Soviet leaders announced that America would be taken “from within”  and that they, the Soviets, would sell the rope that America would use to hang herself.   (Have they been teaching this in schools lately?)    How to convince us to “hang ourselves”?     —

Verbal entrainment/social engineering/scientific brainwashing/”peer” pressure, that is,  ridicule, mockery, character assassination — all to shepherd Americans into the right way of thinking.

The Patriot Post had an interesting little summary about the economic part of this “overwhelming the system.”    It was on their “humor” page.

Humor page.  But it’s not funny.   They’ve already achieved this part of their indoctrination.

Hats off to our efficient Rulers!    My Tribute to Tuesday,  11-06-12.

We  all need to talk to ourselves.  We all need to hear  answers from inside ourselves.   Or:   Maybe we need to talk to some octogenarians and nonagenarians!!!

 

HOW TO TALK TO A NONAGENARIAN

How to talk to a nonagenarian?    Well –

. . . when he’s done having fun and he comes back down to earth  –    Don’t!     Don’t talk   TO   a nonagenarian,  ask him questions, and then just let him talk to you!

That’s  PeeWee Martin up there with a parachute.  He promised himself he’d re-do his parachute drop 70 years after his original one, on D-Day.    Now he is 93 years old – and he kept his promise a couple days ago.     A promise is a promise.   Duty is duty.   Black is black and white is white and a man  like this doesn’t get things confused.

If you can’t find a nonagenarian,  an octogenarian will do.  He’ll be in his 80s, not in his 90’s,   but if you ask him what life is all about, he’ll give you a good answer.   If you ask him what’s important in life,  he’ll give you a bit of wisdom.   If you ask him what he thinks has gone wrong in the world,  he’ll  give you  some good ideas, plainly, so you can understand the points he’s making.    And he’ll tell you some interesting stories along the way!

 

This man is Bernard Jordan, of England.   He’s 89 years old and his “caretakers”  were alarmed this week because he was missing, from his nursing home.    He showed up a couple days later with some friends – at the D Day celebration in Normandy, France.

I heard interviews with several other  veterans this week.    They sounded like my father and my grandfather and my uncle.     They all spoke plainly,  clearly,  they  meant the words they said and they weren’t afraid of how they’d be “received.”     I don’t think they understood “political correctness”  and if they did, they wouldn’t have submitted to it.     They aren’t pushed around by people  who tell them how to think.     They say the majority of us know right from wrong, good from bad,  but most of us lay aside our commonsense and submit to  our Rulers who speak through  the forces of the media.  We stay quiet and let bad things happen because we don’t know how to speak up and push back.   And we seem to be a little fuzzy on the importance of it all.

The 80 year olds and the 90 year olds should be our mentors.     Their generation didn’t invent “right and wrong”  and “good and bad.”   They just learned it  and it made them strong when they needed to be.   We should learn from them.   We should know what they know.     We should know how to quietly fight for the good and do what is right, and be confident that we are living rightly.

We don’t need to talk to them.  We need to listen to them.

I think we could be enjoying life like they do!

HOW TO TALK TO YOUR PHARMACIST

Beautiful:

Nearly all of us have had the experience of talking to a pharmacist.    I’m not going to write advice about what words to say or “how to open a conversation with your pharmacist”  or ” how to get your pharmacist to do what you want him to do – and quickly!”

I’m going to leave that up to you.  You can use your own words and mannerisms.

What I want to do is give you some context for the words and mannerisms you choose to use.

There is almost no Best Time to see your pharmacist.   If you go when it’s the best time you can fit into your schedule,  say,  first thing in the morning, or after you drop the kids off,  or on your way to work, or on your lunch hour, after work,  mid-evening after supper — those are probably the Best Times for everyone else too.

First thing in the morning may not be the best time for the pharmacist.   He may be still trying to figure out the mess that the previous day has left for him.  Or he may be still coping with the lack of one employee who couldn’t come in today.   Or he may be trying to decipher the latest directive from headquarters, that – yet again –  doesn’t make sense, serves no purpose,  and will take up a lot of extra time.

At other times during the day you may arrive just after the previous cranky, demanding, insulting customer had just left.    The pharmacist’s head is still spinning.   Or, if your pharmacist seems unusually quiet, he may have just received a threat, perhaps a threat to do bodily harm, and he is wondering how many other customers out there harbor anger and resentment towards him.

As you  know, we have in our town just dealt with the shooting death of a well-loved pharmacist.  A good colleague of Son.  And another pharmacist in this area who is trained and licensed to carry a gun and  had to take it out when a customer was beating up another customer and using a knife….  no injuries then…. but the court ruled that he cannot take his gun to work anymore.   No defense of customers.  No self-defense.   These things weigh on the mind of your everyday pharmacist.  Especially if the customer before you was a particularly nasty one.

At any time of the day  your pharmacist has just been lectured by a customer as to proper procedures and practices.   He may have had to explain for the 24th time that day that it’s the insurance company that’s charging such a high deductible and there is nothing he can do to change the insurance company’s mind. He may still feel sad about the customers he’s had to turn away that day.    He may feel sad about the customer who will no longer need his services.    He may have just spent fifteen minutes with a customer, helping to diagnose her problems, shown her all the Over The Counter aids all over the store, only to have her walk off in a huff because he can’t give her something with a prescription.

Your pharmacist has been insulted, accused, questioned,  and taken for granted all throughout his very long day, standing on his feet, with no scheduled stops for lunch, “coffee.” or bathroom.   He must be at 110% alertness to what he’s doing at all times, because even a tiny mistake can be serious.   And he must  be that aware also about what his employees are doing in their delegated tasks.

Most likely your pharmacist will greet you pleasantly and be ready to listen and try to figure out what it is you’re saying to him.   Your words,  your mannerisms.

The leading cause of death of pharmacists is heart attack.    Sometimes on the job.

That beautiful sunset at the top of this posting?

Son’s wise choice for a rare few days off from work.

D-DAY DEFEATING THE DEFEATERS

Heartfelt gratitude:

We could not have had the day we had today without this day, D-Day.

Much has already been written,  much has been said.   I hope you’ve had a chance to hear and see some of the remembrances. . . perhaps even you will plan to have another viewing of Band of Brothers.    Or The Longest Day.   Or one of the many fine documentaries out there.

I heard a man interviewed today, someone who had been there on Omaha Beach, June 6, 1944.    The interviewer asked him what he thought of today’s generation, if he thought they knew their history and ever thought about the battle they had fought.   He answered,  “The younger generation will be all right.  We fought that day so that they wouldn’t have to think about what we did.”

So we had a  normal, beautiful day today,  and we’re not thinking about war or what it takes to preserve the victory they won for us.

They had defeated the enemy for us, those men at Normandy and all the others.      They fought for “God and Country”  and for their families;  for Freedom;  for Truth, Justice, and the American Way.

So, again, it’s good that we celebrate and remember then with perhaps movies or documentaries or listening to old radio broadcasts,  but I have to write about a very sad trend.  This morning I had  asked questions of two of the older ladies in my class about what it was like to be alive on D-Day.     What had happened, from their perspective.

And then I was amazed to hear about a country that isn’t much there anymore.

I will not list the ways that our country is not the same one these men defended during WWII,  but there is an obvious and objective betrayal  of everything these veterans were.    Just one example:   A little-known but alarming directive came down from Washington D.C,  against our veterans.     The directive commanded that  chapels in VA hospitals must remove or cover up any signs, symbols,  or pictures of Jesus Christ, an altar, or any other Christian object.   Christianity must be “out of sight”  at the chapels.   Stained glass windows must also be covered up.

Even though the majority of our soldiers are Christian.   Even though they fought and died for the freedom of religious expression.  Even though other religions may also use and set up their objects in the chapels.  Even though there has been no general outcry against the sight of a cross or an altar or a Bible.     And even though providing  a place for Christian worship does not constitute the State setting up a State religion for everyone to follow….

Our Rulers have decreed.

Thanks to a vigilant woman in Ironwood, MI,  who visited her local VA hospital and discovered this – and to all the radio stations which have been checking on this and discussing this today.

There is a change being imposed upon this country.  The “American Way”  is being defeated by stealth directives, among other ways.   And those who defeated socialism in the 1940s  (“national socialism” it was called)   now need our help to push back against their own defeat that is  being attempted by whatever is Ruling this country.    We don’t have to put on a uniform and take up arms.   But we have to do something.

 

Some of the many sources:

http://www.uppermichiganssource.com/news/story.aspx?id=1052445

http://www.christiantoday.com/article/va.hospital.orders.christian.symbols.covered.inside.chapel/37859.htm

http://canadafreepress.com/index.php/article/63450

 

 

 

BEAUTY SO UNFORGIVING

I suppose there is no point, really, to this blog posting.    It just presents what is becoming an annual summer quandary, and it all begins with physics:

Physics is so beautiful!    Even if it doesn’t result in beautiful machines to create anti-matter as at CERN, in the above picture,  just the equations are so beautifully eloquent in their precision and balance.    When we open up the atom and attempt to harness the power of the electrons flying outward at incomprehensible speeds,  we can build beautiful machines like this submarine and its multicolored “control” panel.     Unfortunately,  something went wrong,  and all that beautiful power became rather unforgiving,  nearly cooking to death several dozen sailors.    Oh, that was three years ago.  We’re just reading about it now.

I’m thinking dark thoughts amidst all this “beauty.”    I saw an interview with a scientist at CERN who was explaining that the small amount of anti-matter that is generated in their labs was perfectly safe.  He smiled and  said,  “I wouldn’t be sitting here calmly talking to you if I thought there was any danger.”     Everyone smiles.     But  they have bigger plans for anti-matter generation now,  and a great many of their scientists are questioning the wisdom of it.

And then certainly Professor Albert Einstein had some beautiful, eloquent thoughts and certainly he and others created some “beautiful” equations…   but when he heard what was being planned,  he wrote to the authorities and published letters begging them to stop creating what his equations had made possible.     But the atom bomb went forth,  and so did the nuclear power plants.   As Einstein is quoted as saying:  “That’s a h*** of a way to boil water.”

Suicidal, I would say.

So that brings me to my summer quandary and the unforgiving nature of the atomic world.     Ice walls, cement shrouds, and kitty litter has not proven effective in protecting us from the destructive forces that have been unleashed.       (Kitty litter, you might ask?   Just do a search for WIPP, kitty litter, and resulting explosions….  ongoing.   The authorities asked a task force to find out how they can stop this ongoing disaster.    Their not-so-reassuring response is they can maybe  get this process to stop if they find a way to cover it up, but covering it up will take a minimum of four years…if they can find an effective way to do it. )

Meanwhile,  weather happens.   Jet streams flow on.    Rain is delivered.   Contaminated rain is delivered onto my back deck.

 

Just about three times “normal”  near my deck railings.

So I wondered about the nearby tomato plants.   I do so love the taste of real tomatoes.

I stayed out there a long time,  in the drizzle,  hoping to find a more, well, hopeful range of readings.

Nope.    90 – 130  Counts Per minute.    I checked the Internet charts for our area.    The readings there were the same.

Beauty – and hope –  yet so unforgiving.

 

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Poor Kodiak bears.   Poor 12-year-olds in northern Japan.    Poor babies.    Poor starfish.    Poor anchovies.   Poor tuna.   Poor salmon.    Poor whales.      Poor sea lions.  Poor polar bears.   Those poor butterflies. . . .

3. THE MONTH OF JUNE 1 – 2 – 3

TRIBUTE TO TUESDAY –

The month of June came on so fast that, here it is, three days into June before I could take a breath and notice it!

Unfortunately,  that “breath”  came on a Tuesday:  the day I often “pay tribute”  to our Rulers who placed their “man” into our wh*  it  e  ho  ^  use.

A “man”  so unqualified that they have hidden from formal inquiry all of his previous official records.

A “man”  so disqualified that, although his origin is common knowledge among European, Russian, and Asian newspapers and commenters,  yet anyone here who questions his origins face . . . ridicule and wrath.

An unqualified/disqualified person who does not seem to be educated in the very basic things such as the nature of man – and the consequences deriving from the nature of man in certain arenas such as politics, society, medical health, and morality.

Truths about the nature of man were observed many thousands of years ago, long before the nations of Western Civilization were developing,  long before Christianity came to be,  and long before the United States of America was formed.    The nature of man is objective and discoverable and foundational.

But without this knowledge, without education,  this unqualified/disqualified person dictates that our month of June be dedicated to people who practice an immoral, medically unhealthy, socially harmful form of physical lust.

Here are the headlines today:    “(this person) PROCLAIMS JUNE (to be) LGBT MONTH;   HIGHLIGHTS KEY VICTORIES OF THE LGBT ACITIVIST LOBBY MADE POSSIBLE UNDER HIS (rule)”

Yep.   Hats off to the victors of 11-06-12 —   they told us they won the election!

So now their man can do anything he wants to do.

Is there any other time in our history when our Congress has to present a bill that requires the president of the United States to follow the law of the country?   Think that new law has a chance of passing?

Ask:  why do our Rulers push crime, violent entertainment, sexual immorality, and drugs onto our society?    Because:  an immoral society is a demoralized society  – and consequently much easier to control, offering “solutions”  of their choosing.    An immoral society is a society in shackles.

But then – our Founding Fathers already told us that.

 

2. THE MONTH OF JUNE 1 – 2 – 3

Christendom dedicates each month to some special devotion.    It’s kind of a way to acknowledge the sacredness of the time we live in, and it tells us to slow down!  Slow down and concentrate on the great insights of the Church,  giving adequate time to the very most important ones.

So –  June is the month dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

And this is the image which almost kept me out of the Church!

,,Sentimental!   Overly sentimental!   So. . .  so . . . non-Scandinavian!!

But I get it now.   This image is more an icon than a portrait.    It’s meant to teach and to convey meaning, not to describe.

More than four centuries ago, urgent insight came from the Heavens – not, as recently, to admonish society for its sinning   and not, as now,  to warn of the coming consequences of continued sinning –  but rather  the insights were meant to address a certain “coldness’  in man’s heart;  an indifference about spiritual truths;  a losing firm hold on the Truths of Christianity.

“Heaven” saw the problem developing and offered a remedy.

The remedy came in the form  of a more specific and formal devotion to the Sacred Heart:   Location of the fervent love of God for each human soul.

Although an understanding of the Sacred Heart had existed for many centuries, the new insights given through  St. Margaret Mary Alacoque would produce a deeper understanding through concrete images and fruitful devotions.   If you actively love Someone,  your love will grow.

Simple.   A devotion for the humble who simply love God.  Most of us our pretty unimaginative when it comes to showing our love to God.     I get it now.   I who am so busy and unfocused sometimes,  though I mean well,  I experience the great freedom and eagerness to love the Lord more through devotions to His Sacred Heart.

Freedom and joy!

The month of June.

 

1. THE MONTH OF JUNE 1 – 2 – 3

It’s June.    June?

June.     The year is half over.

I’ve surprised myself by getting some goals accomplished,  but I’ve disappointed myself in some things I’ve left undone – and I’m not happy about the number of those things.    All in all, this will probably be a pretty average year as far as doing my duties.

But the point is,  each year is precious because  as time is marching on, we’re marching on too:  we’re either marching to God or marching in the other direction.

Each year is precious because we’re on a countdown, like it or not, and what’s counting down is the number of years we have left. . . .

And half of this one is over already!

Funny,  I don’t feel a half a year older.