I've been following the revolt in Libya. Today Barack Hussein Obama is waiting to make a statement on the status of the takeover. I can hardly wait to hear what the future "New world Order" hopeful is about to say. He's been walking on eggs very nervously concerning his own stability so he has to be careful what he says. You see, his own life is at stake right now regarding him taking any position on who is going to rule who?
Both factions are Muslim, so although we are aware of Qaddafi's quest for revenge by the bombing of the Pan Am 103 flight over Scotland, he has in recent years complied with the rules of the Geneva convention, sort of, more or less.
The problem is, the revolting faction just happens to be Muslim too!! Amid rumors that Al Quaida may be supporting the invading forces, we may be worse off than before!
Can someone tell me where the U.S. is going to stand here aside from the supposing of the press.
I can tell you this much. Barack ain't gonna gain votes either way. That's why he's keeping his mouth glued shut. Which is what he should have done two and a half years ago!
Hang on to your seats, folks. This is gonna be interesting. Just sayin'.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
A STORY OF 3 LITTLE GOLDFISH.
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Over the past 20 years I have occasionally been requested by a bank or mobile home park owner to go in and clean up an abandoned mobile home that had been repossessed by the mortgage holder.
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Over the past 20 years I have occasionally been requested by a bank or mobile home park owner to go in and clean up an abandoned mobile home that had been repossessed by the mortgage holder.
It's always a sad affair because there's usually children involved that totally have no control over what's happening in their life.
Anyway, when it happens there are always signs of depression and sorrow left behind. Sometimes, like in this case that I took on last week, the occupant left in a hurry and took only what seemed to be the clothes on their back, leaving behind furniture, electronics for children, T.V. sets, clothes and bedding, photographs of the family and books including bibles and prayer books.
It was difficult for me to not wonder just what went on that would cause it to happen. In this case it wasn't dirty and smelly but terribly messy. The sleeping bags and bedding including pillows were still there as though the family had just disappeared off the face of the earth.
My curiosity caused me to ask some of the neighbors if they knew the situation with these folks, and no one was really able to give me insight except to say the husband had divorced the lady and left her with 3 children. One older teen age son that was slightly retarded.
Now I know that people who get evicted for various reasons, usually a lack of money, are given a date when they are supposed to be out and off the premises. So when that date comes and the reality hits them that they must leave, they often times have made no preparations to move. On the last day they make their hasty retreat, leave town unannounced and say goodbye to no one. Shame of the situation sets in and they leave no forwarding address because they don't want to be harrassed by creditors involved. Nobody can reach them.
This is so sad. They also think that they can't go back for any of their belongings for fear they would be trespassing. So they leave it all behind forever.
Time after time, I have attempted to get word to them so they could at least come back and get their belongings, but to no avail. So off to the dump it goes. 2 tons of it in this case. It was heavy on my mind as I decided to drain the 30 gal. fish tank they had also left behind. I got it about half empty when a little gold fish appeared looking directly at me. I did a double take and there it was for sure. A closer look and there was a black one there too! It was hard to believe my eyes since no one had lived there for over a week. Then a third, beautiful white one showed up! All staring at me.
The water was murky and there was a strong odor of ammonia emitting from it, which indicates contamination. I immediately quit draining the water and went on cleaning up other things in the room.
I couldn't help but glance back once in a while and every time, there it was looking right at me. It was as if it was asking me to help. I went home that night with that little fish pictured in my mind.
Early the next day I returned to the place and when I entered the room, I walked over to the tank and couldn't see any of them. Although there was a jungle of foliage where they could hide, I thought they might have passed on, but as I was about to turn away, there they were. Staring at me again. I worked again through out the day and once again went home that night with them still on my mind but intending to take them out of the tank the next day . My intention was to take them to Petco in a baggy full of water to see if they would take them. I'm not much of a pray'er but I whispered a little prayer that they'd be kept safe. It became an obsession with me to not let them die. After all, the medical profession didn't let me die when I needed them a few months earlier!
Early the next morning I headed over there, this time with a baggy in hand. I unlocked the door and immediately walked over to the fish tank. There they were, looking at me as usual.
The night before, my wife had suggested I might try calling PetCo. As a last resort, I called them. I talked to the manager and was very pleasantly surprised to be told she was wanting to have some more for her collection at home. To add to my pleasure, she was delighted to know she could also have the 30 gal. tank and equipment to go with them.
Later that afternoon, she arrived with a friend to help her remove them and with no further adieu,
drove off into the sunset, thrilled about their catch.
I drove home as well, knowing I had made the whole works happy. It was a great feeling and I mused happily all the way home. No hero, just happy! Just sayin'.
The water was murky and there was a strong odor of ammonia emitting from it, which indicates contamination. I immediately quit draining the water and went on cleaning up other things in the room.
I couldn't help but glance back once in a while and every time, there it was looking right at me. It was as if it was asking me to help. I went home that night with that little fish pictured in my mind.
Early the next day I returned to the place and when I entered the room, I walked over to the tank and couldn't see any of them. Although there was a jungle of foliage where they could hide, I thought they might have passed on, but as I was about to turn away, there they were. Staring at me again. I worked again through out the day and once again went home that night with them still on my mind but intending to take them out of the tank the next day . My intention was to take them to Petco in a baggy full of water to see if they would take them. I'm not much of a pray'er but I whispered a little prayer that they'd be kept safe. It became an obsession with me to not let them die. After all, the medical profession didn't let me die when I needed them a few months earlier!
Early the next morning I headed over there, this time with a baggy in hand. I unlocked the door and immediately walked over to the fish tank. There they were, looking at me as usual.
The night before, my wife had suggested I might try calling PetCo. As a last resort, I called them. I talked to the manager and was very pleasantly surprised to be told she was wanting to have some more for her collection at home. To add to my pleasure, she was delighted to know she could also have the 30 gal. tank and equipment to go with them.
Later that afternoon, she arrived with a friend to help her remove them and with no further adieu,
drove off into the sunset, thrilled about their catch.
I drove home as well, knowing I had made the whole works happy. It was a great feeling and I mused happily all the way home. No hero, just happy! Just sayin'.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
THE PASSING OF MY BROTHER DUANE AT 86 BRINGS MEMORIES.
At the age of 6, I remember Duane volunteering to go to war for the Canadian forces who had already been engaged on Britain's behalf against Germany in the Battle of Britain.
This was a brave and unique thing for him to do since Duane was born in Eureka, Montana and was an American from the day he was Born. Our family only moved to Canada after he was 7 years old. However, I suppose because 5 of us younger siblings were born after the move, he felt there was a duty to defend the Country he actually grew up in. He joined the Canadian Paratroopers Red Devil Brigade and underwent basic training in preparation for the uncertain future that was in store for him.
It was certainly an adventure that would stay in his memory and ours for the remainder of our lives.
I remember his coming home on leave before shipping out overseas particularly well, not only because of my memory, but because of his reflections to me later in years.
Just 2 doors down lived the Civetarese family with 3 sons that Duane and my older brothers grew up with. Alf Civetarese was approximately the same age and he had joined the Navy in order not to be drafted into the Army first. They were otherwise inseparable friends. Coincidentally, They were both
home on leave and scheduled to be shipped out at the same time.
It was a time for them to celebrate together before that time arrived and they proceeded to do just that.
Of course with Duane's basic training, he was convinced he was the toughest guy in town. Now maybe in some ordinary city, that could have been the case. He was soon to find out it was definitely not! Fernie B.C. was a rough and tumble coal mining town amongst another half dozen or so that harbored some rugged, tough people and Sonny McCormick was one of the town's toughest.
Duane decided to engage himself in a fisticuffs with him at a local dance just before shipping out the next day. Gosh, was he a sorry sight when he boarded the train for Halifax, Nova Scotia. He remarked to me years later that he faced the upcoming enemy with a little more respect. He faced them in France and Belgium after that.
When the war finally ended and the Allies shipped their weary troops home, Duane got off the ship in Halifax and headed for the nearest bar, it was heavy on his mind concerning the present welfare of his closest friend, Alf Civetarese. He didn't have to wonder long. Above all the noise and clamor, there was an argument taking place on the other side of the bar. There was Alf!!
Now considering the fact that Fernie B.C. was 3,000 miles away from Halifax, what would the chances be of them running into each other? Wow! But they did and the celebration began there, all the way home and then some.
They both married, raised families and remained close friends their entire lives, although living countries apart for years. They both became barbers with Alf living out his life in Trail, B.C. and Duane in the Seattle Wa. area.
I'll try to tell the story as I recall it.
Right at the time of their return, when I was around the age of 9, I was hospitalized with a mysterious stomach flu and spent a week in the hospital. Back in those days, the nurses dressed in formal, white uniforms and were highly regarded as they attended to the patients in need with their little white hair pieces and accompanying white, soft walking shoes. I remember the great, attentive treatment from a particular nurse named Angie Delpuppo. She was so nice to me. Some weeks thereafter, as I was playing in our back yard in the middle of the day, I could here someone up the hill from our place singing "Meet me in St. Louie, Louie, meet me at the fair". As I looked upwards I saw Duane come over the hill with a lady on his arm and as they got closer, I realized it was Angie. They had just met and he was bringing her home for our family to meet her. As a child, what a beautiful surprise that was to me! I knew her before he did!
They were married shortly after that and made up residence in Eureka, Montana just 40 miles away.
I had the pleasure of spending summer vacation as a child there with them and I'll never forget it.
For a couple of years, Duane and our older brother John worked as fallers in the woods for a local logging company. In those days the falling was done by hand with a double handed crosscut saw.
Winters were cold and snowy much the same as Fernie and of course anti-freeze wasn't too popular yet, so they had to drain their car to prevent the radiator and block from freeezing at night and then refill it in the morning to go to work. They had to repeat the process to come home. Sometimes the car wouldn't start right away either. I think I learned the working man's language partially from them.
I remember them being overjoyed at the invention of the 2 man chain saw that took place right at that time. What an innovation in logging that was!!
With our oldest brother Stanley living in Seattle, Wa., Duane and Ann were inspired to move there and Duane enrolled in a barber school to eventually opened a shop on Aurora avenue. Angie resumed her R.N. career and together they spent the rest of their lives in the Seattle/Puget Sound area.
At the age of 14, I visited them for a couple of weeks and Duane taught me how to strum a guitar which I enjoyed so much He gave it to me to take home to Fernie. Along with a harmonica, I played it for years after.
In later life I returned to live in Seattle and along with the rest of my Siblings, We enjoyed a lot of McNaughton happy hours on Friday nights along with his son Dewey and I playing the guitars together. Those are memorable days and Duane loved each and every one of them.
Thanks for the memories, Duane. There are many more of them to talk or write about. I only wish you were here with us to enjoy them. You always will be in our hearts, Brother.
Thanks to the McNaughton family for the great reunion last week-end!
Love you all, George.
This was a brave and unique thing for him to do since Duane was born in Eureka, Montana and was an American from the day he was Born. Our family only moved to Canada after he was 7 years old. However, I suppose because 5 of us younger siblings were born after the move, he felt there was a duty to defend the Country he actually grew up in. He joined the Canadian Paratroopers Red Devil Brigade and underwent basic training in preparation for the uncertain future that was in store for him.
It was certainly an adventure that would stay in his memory and ours for the remainder of our lives.
I remember his coming home on leave before shipping out overseas particularly well, not only because of my memory, but because of his reflections to me later in years.
Just 2 doors down lived the Civetarese family with 3 sons that Duane and my older brothers grew up with. Alf Civetarese was approximately the same age and he had joined the Navy in order not to be drafted into the Army first. They were otherwise inseparable friends. Coincidentally, They were both
home on leave and scheduled to be shipped out at the same time.
It was a time for them to celebrate together before that time arrived and they proceeded to do just that.
Of course with Duane's basic training, he was convinced he was the toughest guy in town. Now maybe in some ordinary city, that could have been the case. He was soon to find out it was definitely not! Fernie B.C. was a rough and tumble coal mining town amongst another half dozen or so that harbored some rugged, tough people and Sonny McCormick was one of the town's toughest.
Duane decided to engage himself in a fisticuffs with him at a local dance just before shipping out the next day. Gosh, was he a sorry sight when he boarded the train for Halifax, Nova Scotia. He remarked to me years later that he faced the upcoming enemy with a little more respect. He faced them in France and Belgium after that.
When the war finally ended and the Allies shipped their weary troops home, Duane got off the ship in Halifax and headed for the nearest bar, it was heavy on his mind concerning the present welfare of his closest friend, Alf Civetarese. He didn't have to wonder long. Above all the noise and clamor, there was an argument taking place on the other side of the bar. There was Alf!!
Now considering the fact that Fernie B.C. was 3,000 miles away from Halifax, what would the chances be of them running into each other? Wow! But they did and the celebration began there, all the way home and then some.
They both married, raised families and remained close friends their entire lives, although living countries apart for years. They both became barbers with Alf living out his life in Trail, B.C. and Duane in the Seattle Wa. area.
I'll try to tell the story as I recall it.
Right at the time of their return, when I was around the age of 9, I was hospitalized with a mysterious stomach flu and spent a week in the hospital. Back in those days, the nurses dressed in formal, white uniforms and were highly regarded as they attended to the patients in need with their little white hair pieces and accompanying white, soft walking shoes. I remember the great, attentive treatment from a particular nurse named Angie Delpuppo. She was so nice to me. Some weeks thereafter, as I was playing in our back yard in the middle of the day, I could here someone up the hill from our place singing "Meet me in St. Louie, Louie, meet me at the fair". As I looked upwards I saw Duane come over the hill with a lady on his arm and as they got closer, I realized it was Angie. They had just met and he was bringing her home for our family to meet her. As a child, what a beautiful surprise that was to me! I knew her before he did!
They were married shortly after that and made up residence in Eureka, Montana just 40 miles away.
I had the pleasure of spending summer vacation as a child there with them and I'll never forget it.
For a couple of years, Duane and our older brother John worked as fallers in the woods for a local logging company. In those days the falling was done by hand with a double handed crosscut saw.
Winters were cold and snowy much the same as Fernie and of course anti-freeze wasn't too popular yet, so they had to drain their car to prevent the radiator and block from freeezing at night and then refill it in the morning to go to work. They had to repeat the process to come home. Sometimes the car wouldn't start right away either. I think I learned the working man's language partially from them.
I remember them being overjoyed at the invention of the 2 man chain saw that took place right at that time. What an innovation in logging that was!!
With our oldest brother Stanley living in Seattle, Wa., Duane and Ann were inspired to move there and Duane enrolled in a barber school to eventually opened a shop on Aurora avenue. Angie resumed her R.N. career and together they spent the rest of their lives in the Seattle/Puget Sound area.
At the age of 14, I visited them for a couple of weeks and Duane taught me how to strum a guitar which I enjoyed so much He gave it to me to take home to Fernie. Along with a harmonica, I played it for years after.
In later life I returned to live in Seattle and along with the rest of my Siblings, We enjoyed a lot of McNaughton happy hours on Friday nights along with his son Dewey and I playing the guitars together. Those are memorable days and Duane loved each and every one of them.
Thanks for the memories, Duane. There are many more of them to talk or write about. I only wish you were here with us to enjoy them. You always will be in our hearts, Brother.
Thanks to the McNaughton family for the great reunion last week-end!
Love you all, George.
Monday, August 8, 2011
A DOUBLE A + CREDIT RATING I'VE ALWAYS DREAMED ABOUT.
After watching the news concerning the U.S. being reduced from a triple A credit rating to a lowly Double A plus, I have to wonder why they haven't passed this on to the rest of us Tea party people in the past and up until now?
After all, I probably only owe $20,000.00 to all of the creditors concerned. My credit rating is the equivalent of a Triple "F".
As I understand it, our great ruling Congress and President Obama have just ran our National debt up to 14 trillion dollars.
As a taxpayer, how in the hell am I gonna pay that off when I can't even pay my own bills. Huh? Tell me someone, would you please? So where did our Country get a Triple "A" from in the first place?
As I listen to these minority Socialists talk about taking from the rich and giving to the poor, I wonder,
What kind of credit rating should we grant to the Socialists? Or have they already given themselves a
Triple "A"? I mean in my world I either earn the money or I borrow it with the intention of paying it back. That's the only way I ever get my money. So I have a suggestion to the Socialist "givers".
Earn it first. Or borrow it with at least the intention of paying it back on the basis of your credit rating. Then give it away. But don't give away the money I can't even afford to give away myself considering my credit rating.
Take my advice. You tried. You lost. Now get lost! Just sayin'.
After all, I probably only owe $20,000.00 to all of the creditors concerned. My credit rating is the equivalent of a Triple "F".
As I understand it, our great ruling Congress and President Obama have just ran our National debt up to 14 trillion dollars.
As a taxpayer, how in the hell am I gonna pay that off when I can't even pay my own bills. Huh? Tell me someone, would you please? So where did our Country get a Triple "A" from in the first place?
As I listen to these minority Socialists talk about taking from the rich and giving to the poor, I wonder,
What kind of credit rating should we grant to the Socialists? Or have they already given themselves a
Triple "A"? I mean in my world I either earn the money or I borrow it with the intention of paying it back. That's the only way I ever get my money. So I have a suggestion to the Socialist "givers".
Earn it first. Or borrow it with at least the intention of paying it back on the basis of your credit rating. Then give it away. But don't give away the money I can't even afford to give away myself considering my credit rating.
Take my advice. You tried. You lost. Now get lost! Just sayin'.
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