In memory

The Day That Changed America

December 7, 1941 was the day of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, a surprise strike that killed over 2,400 Americans and propelled the United States into World War II. It is remembered as “a date which will live in infamy,” marking a turning point in global history.

December 7, 1941 remains etched in American memory not only as a devastating military defeat but also as the moment the nation united against a global threat that would require the collective effort of its citizens. The attack, which came without warning, claimed the lives of thousands and left a deep scar on the American psyche, leading to an outpouring of patriotism and resolve. This pivotal event transformed the U.S. into a central force in World War II, catalyzing a military buildup and a surge of enlistment that would see millions of Americans take up arms. The impact of this day reshaped the course of the 20th century, not only solidifying the United States’ role on the world stage but also serving as a catalyst for significant social changes, including shifts in gender roles as women entered the workforce in unprecedented numbers in support of the war effort. The legacy of December 7th is thus not only a somber reminder of loss but also a testament to resilience and unity in the face of adversity.

The Attack on Pearl Harbor

  • Date & Location: Sunday morning, December 7, 1941, at Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.
  • Attackers: The Imperial Japanese Navy launched 353 aircraft from six carriers in two waves.
  • Targets: U.S. battleships, cruisers, destroyers, and airfields.
  • Damage:
    • 8 battleships were damaged, with the USS Arizona and USS Oklahoma destroyed.
    • Nearly 20 naval vessels were sunk or heavily damaged.
    • Over 300 aircraft were destroyed or disabled.
  • Casualties: More than 2,400 Americans killed and about 1,000 wounded.

Immediate Consequences

  • President Franklin D. Roosevelt addressed Congress the next day, calling December 7 “a date which will live in infamy.”
  • The U.S. declared war on Japan on December 8, 1941, officially entering World War II.
  • Germany and Italy soon declared war on the U.S., expanding the conflict into a truly global war.

Historical Significance

  • Turning Point: The attack ended American isolationism and mobilized the nation for total war.
  • Symbol of Sacrifice: The wreck of the USS Arizona remains a memorial site, honoring those who died.
  • Legacy: Pearl Harbor is remembered annually, with ceremonies across the U.S. to honor the fallen.

We can never forget Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941

The Night Airwaves Changed Forever

AUDIO PODCAST 4 1/2 minutes

November 3, 1956. 7:30 p.m. Eastern Time. A smooth, velvet voice glides through millions of living rooms across America. A Black man in a sharp suit, seated at a grand piano, smiles into the camera and says, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to The Nat King Cole Show.”

For fifteen minutes every week, the world paused. It wasn’t just a variety show. It was a revolution in prime time. A Voice That Crossed Color Lines. By 1956, Nat King Cole was already a household name. His 1940s hits “Straighten Up and Fly Right”,” The Christmas Song”, “Mona Lisa” had sold millions. He was the first African American artist to top the Billboard charts. His voice was in jukeboxes, on radios, in living rooms from Harlem to Hollywood. But television? That was white space. No Black performer had ever hosted a national network TV series. The closest had been guest spots brief, polite, and always on someone else’s show.

Then came NBC. The Show That Shouldn’t Have Worked. The Nat King Cole Show was simple: Nat at the piano. Guest stars. A small orchestra. No laugh track. No gimmicks. Just music. Just class. The guests were legendary: Ella Fitzgerald trading scat lines with Nat Tony Bennett and Pearl Bailey, Harry Belafonte. Even Frank Sinatra dropped by. White stars, black stars together, on equal footing. And America watched. The Ratings Were Great. The Sponsors Were Not. Here’s the cruel twist. The show was a hit. Critics loved it. Viewers tuned in. But no national sponsor would touch it. Ad agencies feared backlash from Southern affiliates. One executive reportedly said: “We can’t sell toothpaste with a Negro on the screen.” Local sponsors in the North supported it. But without national backing, NBC couldn’t afford to keep it. The End Came Quietly After 64 episodes, Nat King Cole canceled his own show on July 27, 1957. He didn’t rage. He didn’t protest. He just said: “Madison Avenue is afraid of the dark.” That line became legend.

 A Door Cracked Open the Nat King Cole Show lasted only nine months. But it broke the seal. Within a decade: Diahann Carroll starred in Julia (1968) first Black woman in a lead TV role. Bill Cosby co-starred in I Spy (1965) — first Black actor in a dramatic lead. Flip Wilson got his own variety show (1970) and it topped the ratings. None of that would have happened without Nat.  

The Man Behind the Milestone Nat King Cole wasn’t an activist. He didn’t march. He didn’t shout. He just showed up. Sang beautifully. Smiled warmly. And let excellence do the talking. In 1956, that was radical. Today Clips survive on YouTube. Search: Nat King Cole Show 1956” You’ll see him sing “When I Fall in Love” with a smile that could melt ice. You’ll see Ella and Nat riff like old friends. You’ll see America before it was ready.  Legacy in One Line. He didn’t demand a seat at the table. He built the table. And then he sang at it. November 3, 1956, wasn’t just a premiere. It was a declaration. And now, the music still plays. Listen to “Unforgettable” tonight. Thank Nat King Cole. He opened the door and left it wide open.

Contrary to what some say, this country has come a long way in racial acceptance, showcasing significant progress in various aspects of society, including education, employment opportunities, and representation in politics. Over recent decades, we have witnessed a growing acknowledgment of diversity as a strength, leading to more inclusive policies and initiatives that promote understanding among different cultural groups. This evolution reflects a collective effort to confront and dismantle systemic racism, encouraging dialogue and fostering community engagements that embrace the rich variety of backgrounds that define our nation. Despite ongoing challenges, these strides toward acceptance signal a hopeful journey toward unity and equality for all.

One of my favorite songs is “Unforgettable” with Nat and Natalie. They made a terrific song into a priceless rendition. Click for the song

I am not ready for winter

Audio Podcast 5 minutes

I woke this morning with the temperature in the forties. It is cloudy and gloomy outside and appears to be that way all day. Gloomy days always bring back vivid memories of when I was stationed in Nuremberg, Germany, while in the army. During that time of about nine months, most of the days were characterized by an overcast sky and the constant presence of clouds looming above me. The damp chill in the air would seep into my bones, making each day feel longer than the last. Being from Colorado, where the sun shines nearly 300 days out of the year, was a large adjustment for me to be in an area that experiences such a high number of gray and dreary days. I often found myself longing for the warmth of the sun on my skin and the brilliant blue skies that I had taken for granted. Each overcast morning reminded me of the stark contrast to my vibrant home state, and I’d catch myself reminiscing about enjoying the mountains or lounging outdoors soaking in the sun.

The leaves are on their full-time effort to cover the yards and streets with colorful bounty, creating a brilliant tapestry of reds, yellows, and oranges that captivate the senses, while they flutter gently down from their branches like nature’s confetti, eagerly emptying the trees before the first snow settles in. As they gather on the ground, they form soft, crunchable carpets that invite children to jump in and adults to take leisurely strolls, all the while signaling the transition from the warmth of autumn to the crisp chill of winter that lies just around the corner.

The first freeze normally occurs around the middle of October, and one must remember to turn off the water to the outside valves and drain the pipes and hoses to prevent any unwanted damage. With the changing seasons, it’s also a good time to check on other outdoor supplies and preparations. I recently checked my ice melt container, and to my dismay, during the summer it melded into one big rock, compacted and solidified by the heat. Now I must go buy some more ice melt or figure out how to get the rock out of the container and break it up into a usable size. This little predicament has got me pondering about the best approach; perhaps I could use a hammer or a chisel, but that sounds labor-intensive. I predict I will take the easy way and go buy some more, as it would save me time and effort, allowing me to focus on the other tasks that come with preparing for the winter months ahead.

One happy part is the homeowner association does the snow removal, and that saves me from all that cold and heavy work that often comes with winter. At our former home, which was situated on the corner of a busy intersection, we had a gigantic driveway that could have easily accommodated six or more cars. Every snowstorm turned into quite the labor-intensive affair, and it would take me two hours or more to tackle the daunting task of snow removal by hand. The heavy lifting and the chilly breeze blasting against my face truly made it an exhausting chore. Now, I find great relief in knowing that I no longer have to brave the elements, especially during those harsh winter months. Retiring does have advantages; I can now spend my time enjoying cozy evenings by the fireplace, sipping hot cocoa, and relishing the peacefulness of not having to shovel snow.

Many times, during my forty plus years of employment, I had to fight the snow, crazy drivers, and the stress of getting to work on time, navigating through treacherous weather conditions that tested my patience and endurance. Each winter brought its own set of challenges, from shoveling the driveway in the early dawn to encountering reckless drivers who seemed oblivious to the icy roads. I vividly remember the anxiety of being late and the constant rush to meet deadlines, which added an extra layer of tension to an already hectic morning routine. I remember one time during a storm my relief could not make it to work and since we had some equipment that could not be left unattended, I had to stay. That 8-hour shift turned into an 18-hour shift. Now that I’ve moved on, I do not miss this one bit, as I cherish the freedom to enjoy my mornings without the dread of battling the elements or the chaos of rush hour traffic.

The good thing to remember is that in only six months, spring will be here, bringing with it a sense of renewal and joy. As the days grow longer and temperatures begin to rise, we will be able to reminisce about how we not only survived another winter but also found ways to thrive through the cold and darkness. We will look back on cozy evenings spent by the fireplace, the laughter shared with friends and family, and the resilience we discovered within ourselves during those challenging months. Soon, the vibrant colors of blooming flowers and the sweet melodies of birds returning will serve as beautiful reminders of the promise that comes with the changing of the seasons, inviting us to embrace life once again.

A Long, Long Time Ago

Audio File

After church services during fellowship, somehow the subject of stuffed green peppers came up, igniting a lively conversation among our table of eight. This stirred my memory, prompting me to share a recollection from my army time. As I reminisced about those military times, it dawned on me, “I could write a blog about the subject,”

Here is my tale.

It is March 1964. I was recently drafted into the army, and I was in basic training, a whirlwind experience that was both daunting and transformative. I was only there maybe four or five days after I reported to basic, yet it felt like an eternity under the pressure of military life. For a supper meal, they served stuffed green peppers, a dish that would become a symbol of my early days in training. I remember maybe one or two hundred recruits in the basic training company, and everything was rush, rush and do it faster, as if time was a luxury we could not afford. The sergeants barked out commands, and we scrambled to obey, our minds racing to keep up. Also, much of the kitchen duties were done by the recruits that were assigned to KP duty that day, slicing vegetables, peeling potatoes, and washing dishes, trying to maintain a semblance of order amid the chaos.

There were six of us sitting at the table, our plates filled high with the fare provided for our supper, and we were gobbling down our meals in a frenzied race against time because we only had a short period to eat before they would inevitably yell, “Time’s Up!” The recruit next to me was shoveling food into his mouth with reckless abandon, his eyes darting around as if he were trying to savor each bite while also keeping an ear open for the dreaded announcement. Suddenly, he paused mid-chew, his face shifting from one of ravenous delight to horror as he pulled something unwelcome from his mouth, revealing a shocking revelation—a Band-Aid! It was a disturbing sight indeed, as it became clear that one of our fellow recruits from the KP area had been absent-mindedly stuffing green peppers, causing the Band-Aid covering a cut to become dislodged and somehow find its way into our meal. The moment quickly turned from one of unity in our shared dining experience to utter disbelief as the recruits sitting at the table not only saw but heard the revelation, prompting an instinctual response to get up and leave the mess hall in a hurried retreat. What a way to spoil an appetite! My mind raced with questions, wondering, “What am I getting into?” as I looked around at my companions, each of us contemplating the rather unpalatable reality of our situation and what more surprises awaited us in this new chapter of our lives.

One can just speculate that the KP recruit didn’t even realize that the band-aid slipped off his finger, or he knew about it and was afraid to say anything because he didn’t want to experience another shouting conversation with the drill sergeant, which was common in those days, especially during the rigorous training sessions where discipline was paramount. These shouting matches were not unusual; they served as reminders to the recruits of the high expectations placed upon them, often creating an atmosphere thick with tension and anxiety. Or another possibility is that he reported it, and they yelled and screamed at him and didn’t do anything about it, leaving him feeling even more powerless in a situation that already felt overwhelming. It is hard for me to imagine that they would toss out food for one to two hundred troops and start over just because of a missing band-aid, considering the logistical challenges involved in preparing meals for such a large group, coupled with the sheer amount of effort that went into food preparation. In a military environment where resourcefulness and efficiency are crucial, such an action would seem extravagant and illogical. The actual story will be never known, leaving us to ponder the multitude of factors that might have influenced the response to such a seemingly minor incident, yet one that could highlight deeper issues within the structure of military life.

I have other tales to share during my time in the military and someday share other stories that one does not hear often.

Never Forget September 11, 2001

Four commercial airplanes were hijacked by 19 terrorists. Two planes, American Airlines Flight 11 and United Airlines Flight 175, crashed into the North and South Towers of the World Trade Center in New York City, respectively. The South Tower collapsed at 9:59 AM, and the North Tower at 10:28 AM.

American Airlines Flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia, at 9:37 AM, causing partial structural damage.

United Airlines Flight 93 crashed into a field near Shanksville, Pennsylvania, at 10:03 AM after passengers and crew attempted to regain control from the hijackers. It is believed the target was either the U.S. Capitol or the White House.

Nearly 3,000 people were killed, including 2,753 at the World Trade Center, 184 at the Pentagon, and 40 on Flight 93. Victims included civilians, first responders, and military personnel. Thousands more were injured.

This was a major event in the history of the United States and must never be forgotten, as it significantly shaped the nation’s identity and future trajectory. The repercussions of this event resonated deeply within society, influencing political landscapes and cultural dynamics for generations to come. It serves as a reminder of the struggles faced by those who fought for justice and equality, highlighting the importance of collective memory in preserving the lessons learned through hardship and triumph. Understanding this pivotal moment encourages reflection on the ongoing journey toward unity and progress in our society.

Reflecting on 500 Posts

Audio PODCAST

This is my 500th post on WordPress. I do not know whether that number is a major accomplishment or not, but it certainly feels significant to me. It is exciting to reflect on this journey and all the experiences I’ve gained along the way. Ten years ago, I never imagined that I would have 500 posts published, each one capturing moment of inspiration, learning, and growth. Every word I’ve shared has been a piece of my story, creating a tapestry of thoughts that I’ve woven together over the years. The challenges I faced and the triumphs I’ve celebrated through this platform have shaped not just my writing skills, but my understanding of myself and the world around me.

I have had this site since 2009, a 16 year-long journey that has seen significant changes and growth. I started this site after the local newspaper, Rocky Mountain News, shuttered their doors, leaving a void in the community for local voices to be heard. In 2002, I began blogging on their website, yourhub.com, where I found a platform to share my thoughts and experiences with others. However, when their blog site became unusable, I sought out new opportunities and enrolled in WordPress, which has provided me with the versatility and reach I needed to continue my passion for writing. After my near-death experience in February 2023, I gained a renewed perspective on life, and this profound event has driven me to become even more active in blogging here, sharing not just my experiences, but also inspiration and insights for others who may be navigating their own challenges.

This has been an exciting experience for me, and I hope I will be able to continue this adventure for many more years.

LINK TO MY FIRST WORDPRESS BLOG

Rita’s Bold Leap

Audio PODCAST

The air in the office was thick with the hum of fluorescent lights and the clatter of keyboards, creating a constant backdrop of activity that felt almost oppressive. Rita, perched at her desk like a weary soldier, stared at the spreadsheet that had haunted her for weeks, its cells filled with figures that felt more like chains than data. Numbers blurred into meaningless shapes, each cell a tiny cage of expectation that whispered unrelenting demands for perfection. She’d been at RCA for five years, gradually climbing from intern to analyst, but the relentless grind had worn her down, leaving her feeling as if she were merely a cog in a vast machine. Deadlines loomed like dark clouds, emails flooded her inbox like an unstoppable tide, and meetings that could’ve easily been memos disrupted her already fragmented concentration—it was a treadmill set to sprint, draining her energy and enthusiasm with every frantic step.

“You know what? I quit,” she said, her voice cutting through the cubicle’s quiet like a knife. Her coworker, Ray, froze mid-sip of his coffee, eyes wide as if he had just seen a ghost. The words weren’t planned; they just spilled out, raw and final, escaping from a place of pent-up frustration and resolve. The dim fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a harsh glow on the stack of papers on her desk, the evidence of countless late nights and unrecognized efforts. She could feel the weight of her decision hanging in the air, a mix of fear and exhilaration surging through her veins as she took a deep breath, knowing that she was finally choosing her own path.

“Rita, what?” Ray whispered, glancing around as if expecting a manager to swoop in at any moment, ready to question their every move. But Rita was already standing, her chair scraping against the linoleum with an unsettling screech that caught the attention of a few nearby colleagues. She grabbed her mug—World’s Okayest Analyst—proudly displaying her modesty in a place filled with corporate bravado, and her worn-out tote bag that had seen better days, a testament to countless coffee runs and late nights spent poring over data. As she dashed out of the room, she abruptly left the spreadsheet unsaved behind, the data lingering on the screen like an unfinished thought, a reminder of the work that still lay ahead in the chaotic world of analytics.

The elevator ride down felt like shedding a skin. Each floor that passed was a layer of stress peeling away, liberating her from the suffocating weight of her daily grind. She thought of the late nights spent hunched over her laptop, the weekends lost to “urgent” reports that were often nothing more than busywork, and the boss who’d once said, “You’re lucky to have this job.” Lucky? No. Trapped. Trapped in a cycle of endless deadlines, hollow praise, and a relentless pursuit of perfection that left her drained. As she descended, she visualized each task she was leaving behind—a mountain of expectations, the constant hum of office chatter, and the air thick with unspoken tension. With each passing floor, the lightness of freedom grew, igniting a spark of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a life waiting for her beyond these walls.

Outside, the city buzzed with life, a vibrant tapestry of sounds and sights weaving together in a chaotic yet harmonious dance. Rita walked with purpose, no destination in mind, her sneakers pounding the pavement with a rhythmic beat that matched her racing heart. The sun hung high in the sky, casting playful shadows on the bustling streets as she passed a street musician strumming a guitar, the notes bright and free, floating through the air like a gentle breeze. The melodies seemed to wrap around her, inviting her to pause and immerse herself in the moment. She tossed a crumpled five into his case, and he winked, his eyes glinting with a shared understanding of spontaneity. “Live a little, yeah?” he called, his voice carrying over the city’s din. She couldn’t help but laugh, the sound foreign yet welcome, as it mingled with the laughter of children playing nearby and the chatter of passersby, each one contributing to the urban symphony that surrounded her. Feeling a spark of joy, she continued on her journey, a slight bounce in her step as the city unfolded before her like a vibrant story waiting to be told.

Her phone buzzed—Ray, texting: You serious? What’s the plan? She didn’t reply. For once, there was no plan, no checklist to adhere to, just a sense of freedom she hadn’t experienced in a long time. She wandered into a park, where kids chased pigeons, their laughter ringing through the air, and an old man fed ducks, his joy infectious. The sun filtered through the leaves, casting a warm glow on the vibrant greens of the grass. Sitting on a bench, she pulled out a notebook she hadn’t touched in years, its pages filled with half-sketched dreams: a bakery on a bustling street corner, a novel waiting to be written that danced in her imagination, a trip to Iceland to witness the northern lights. Rita had buried those aspirations under piles of memos and KPIs, conforming to the grind of daily responsibilities that had dulled her spirit. But now, with the weight of expectations lifted, she felt a spark of inspiration ignite within her, urging her to reclaim those forgotten dreams and explore the possibilities that lay ahead.

The sun dipped low, painting the sky in reckless pinks and oranges. Rita scribbled: What if I opened that bakery? The idea felt absurd, then thrilling. She’d always loved baking—sourdough at 2 a.m., cupcakes for coworkers’ birthdays, and the occasional batch of cookies that she’d surprise her neighbors with, leaving them in their mailboxes with a little note: “Enjoy!” Why not? She had savings, enough to start small. A food truck, maybe, with a vibrant paint job and the tantalizing smell of fresh pastries wafting through the air. No corporate nonsense, just flour and sugar and her hands transforming simple ingredients into warm, delightful treats. The thought of sharing her creations with others sent a rush of excitement through her. What if she hosted pop-up events at local markets? The image of happy customers savoring her pies sparked a dream that felt just within reach.

Her phone buzzed again—her boss, probably furious, as usual. She silenced it, dismissing the relentless grip of her former life. For the first time in years, Rita felt light, like she could breathe without a deadline choking her. The oppressive weight of expectations had begun to lift, replaced by a sense of exhilarating freedom that filled her heart with hope. Quitting wasn’t just leaving a job; it was reclaiming herself and rediscovering passions long forgotten amidst the chaos of corporate life. The future was uncertain, a blank page, but that was the point. She’d write it herself, penning the story of her own adventures, crafting a narrative infused with joy, exploration, and the thrill of new beginnings. With each step forward, she felt more connected to her true self, ready to embrace whatever came next.

As dusk settled, Rita stood, her notebook clutched tight against her chest, a sanctuary for her swirling thoughts. The musician’s tune lingered in her head, its melodic notes weaving dreams of creativity and warmth through her mind. Tomorrow, she’d bake her first loaf, a decision that filled her with both excitement and trepidation, just to see how it felt and if she could capture the essence of home in its golden crust. “Live a little,” she murmured softly to herself, reminding her inner self of the importance of embracing new experiences, and with a renewed sense of purpose, she headed home, her steps sure and steadfast, each footfall echoing her determination to embrace change.

For the first time in many years, Rita felt free, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, allowing her to breathe deeply and joyfully embrace the vibrant world around her with open arms. The sunlight streamed through the leaves, casting cheerful shadows on the ground, while the gentle breeze whispered promises of exciting new beginnings.

Ten years later Rita had a successful bakery and more money than when she said, “I QUIT!”

Father’s Day June 15, 2025

Audio PODCAST

Father’s Day in the United States is celebrated on the third Sunday of June, which is today. It’s a day to honor fathers, grandfathers, stepfathers, and father figures for their roles in family and society. This occasion involves giving gifts, writing cards, and spending time together, allowing families to show appreciation and love. Many also take this time to think about the lessons and values taught by their fathers, acknowledging their important influence on lives and communities. Celebrations can vary, with some families enjoying big gatherings or barbecues, while others prefer a quiet day to relax and reflect.

The idea is often credited to Sonora Smart Dodd, who wanted to honor her father, a Civil War veteran who raised six children alone in a time when single parenting was rare and usually stigmatized. Inspired by the success and sentiment surrounding Mother’s Day, she passionately pushed for a similar day dedicated to celebrating fathers and their vital contributions to family and society. The first Father’s Day was celebrated on June 19, 1910, in Spokane, Washington, where Dodd organized a special church service to recognize fathers, encouraging others to join in and celebrate paternal figures as well. It quickly gained popularity, and though it faced various challenges in gaining widespread acceptance over the years, it became a permanent national holiday in 1972 when President Richard Nixon signed it into law, acknowledging the importance of fathers and father figures in American life. Notably, while Father’s Day had been observed for decades prior, it wasn’t until this official recognition that it became a day of celebration marked across the nation. with, cards, and family gatherings.

Common gifts include tools, gadgets, clothing, or personalized items like mugs or cards, which can show the recipient’s interests. Experiences such as family outings, special meals, or adventurous day trips create lasting memories. Families often spend the day together, whether grilling, fishing, or just relaxing at home. Some honor fathers with heartfelt letters that express love and appreciation, making the day more meaningful. While the U.S. celebrates on the third Sunday of June, other countries have different dates, each with their unique traditions. For instance, Australia and New Zealand celebrate on the first Sunday of September, adding a cheerful springtime vibe. Many cultures also include various rituals that enrich the celebration of fatherhood, showcasing the bond between fathers and children worldwide.

In 2025, Americans are projected to spend a record $24 billion on Father’s Day gifts, reflecting a growing appreciation for paternal figures and the importance of celebrating them in our lives, up from $22.4 billion in 2024, according to the National Retail Federation (NRF). This increased spending illustrates a noteworthy trend where more families are choosing to honor their fathers with meaningful gifts, experiences, and gatherings. The average person plans to spend about $199.38 on gifts and celebrations, highlighting a willingness to invest in personal and heartfelt gestures that make the day special. From gourmet dinners to unique gadgets, the variety of gifts available has expanded significantly, allowing individuals to choose presents that resonate deeply with their father’s interests and hobbies.

Finally, have a happy, fun and peaceful Father’s Day.

A Journey to Oshkosh: Reconnecting Family

Audio PODCAST

This is how it started.

My wife, Dee and I were over at Jeff my son’s house for a delightful Christmas time meal, where the warm atmosphere and festive decorations sparked a nostalgic thought within me. “Maybe my Jeff would be willing to take us to Oshkosh, Wisconsin, so we could visit my brother Jack, who I haven’t seen for over twenty years,” I pondered, feeling a wave of emotion. It’s been far too long since I shared precious moments with my sibling. At over eighty years old, and with my brother Jack being five years my senior, I often reflect on the fleeting nature of time and the importance of family connections. Unfortunately, due to my declining health and mobility, I felt apprehensive about embarking on such a trip alone. So, gathering my courage, I approached my son with my request. I asked him if he and his wife Jennifer would consider taking the journey with us. Jeff paused for a moment, contemplating the idea before he responded, saying that he would think about it and let me know, leaving me filled with hope and anticipation for the possibility of reconnecting with my brother after all those years apart.

Two weeks later, Jeff calls with excitement in his voice, saying he would be willing to assist us in this venture to Oshkosh, which filled me with joy and anticipation. I was elated at the thought of reuniting with my brother, cherishing the precious moments together before time on this earth is over for me or Jack. The connection we share is something I hold dear, and I imagined all the stories and memories we could create. After serious consideration, Dee informs me that due to her ongoing medical conditions and the age factor, she feels that she shouldn’t make the trip for her own well-being. I understood her concerns, as her health must come first. Therefore, I call Jeff and informed him to just make plans for me, him, and Jennifer, hoping that this adventure would strengthen our bonds even further while honoring Dee’s decision.

The following evening, Jeff calls me with an intriguing suggestion that Jennifer had proposed. Instead of her attending the trip, she thought it would be a great idea to invite Adam, who happens to be Jeff’s brother, to join us instead. I found this suggestion quite interesting, as Adam, Jeff, and I have not spent some quality time together for many years. So, I decided to call Adam directly to discuss the idea, He responded enthusiastically, saying he would first talk to his wife to see if he could get off work for that weekend, which made me hopeful for a positive outcome. A few days later, I received a call from Adam, excitedly informing me that he had indeed managed to secure the time off, making it possible for him to join us. This development was fantastic news! With this confirmation, Jeff immediately set to work planning the details of our trip, Final arrangements were made for us to leave the evening of Thursday, May 15th, filled with anticipation for the adventure ahead, and return on Sunday morning, May 18th, looking forward to creating some unforgettable memories together. Ensuring our reunion would be one for the books.

On May 15th, Jeff worked in the morning and then picked me up at noon since I live conveniently between where he worked and his home. We decided to have a bite to eat at his home. Then, Mina, took us to the light rail station for the trip to DIA airport. I had never experienced this mode of transportation to DIA before, but Jeff had done this many times and seemed quite knowledgeable about the whole process. I am not a big fan of light rail since the stations are always in a remote area that feels disconnected from the bustling city life, and I don’t feel very comfortable waiting there. Additionally, there is that small number of people you encounter who make you uneasy with their actions or just their general demeanor. Despite my apprehensions, we arrived at DIA without any problem, and as we stepped off the train, I felt a wave of relief wash over me, grateful for the smooth trip and Jeff’s company.

Jeff commented that the security wait during this time of day should be short. Wrong! It took about 40 minutes to get through security, which felt like an eternity with our bags weighing us down. The hustle and bustle of the airport only added to the stress of the afternoon. Finally, we met Adam at the gate to board the plane, relief washing over us as we spotted him in the crowd. The plane to Appleton was a small plane with just 3 seats across, and it was not very comfortable; each bump in the air seemed magnified in such a tiny cabin. Leaving Denver around 5:30 pm, we sat quietly as the sun dipped below the horizon, arriving at Appleton sometime after 10, accompanied by a growing sense of fatigue. After disembarking, we quickly made our way to the rental car, eager to leave the airport behind, and we drove to Oshkosh, arriving about 30 minutes later. As we pulled in, Jack met us, greeted us warmly, showed us to our rooms, and then promptly crashed, utterly exhausted. It has been a long, stressful day, filled with the anticipation of reunion and the weariness of travel.

On Friday we met Jack at 8 am, and his welcoming demeanor immediately put us at ease. Jack is some authority at The Jesuit Retreat House in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, a serene place known for its tranquil environment, where individuals come to seek peace and reflection. That is where we are staying for the weekend, surrounded by the picturesque landscapes that make this retreat house so special. Ironically, this weekend there is not a retreat going on, allowing us to enjoy the facilities more freely without the usual schedule of structured activities. it worked out well that the trip was planned without knowing there would be no retreat this weekend, as it provided us with a unique opportunity to explore the grounds and engage in meaningful conversations with Jack.

We then went to Oshkosh for breakfast, which is about 5 miles away from our place. Jeff, who is an early riser, decided to exercise at a fitness site in Oshkosh. He stumbled upon this charming little restaurant named Good Yolk that caught his attention. Intrigued by its inviting atmosphere, we collectively decided to give it a try, eager to see what breakfast delights awaited us. Jack, always the pragmatist, warned us that in this area, the food portions are normally large, a fact that often accompanies hearty breakfast cultures. He was indeed correct; our plates were overflowing with delicious options. Despite the overwhelming size of the meals, it was all exceptionally good, filled with flavors that made it a memorable experience we were glad to share together.

After breakfast, we drove back to the retreat house, a charming haven nestled in a picturesque setting, where Jack eagerly provided a grand tour of the facilities. It is truly a stunning place, characterized by its serene location on the shimmering shore of Lake Winnebago, surrounded by lush, meticulously maintained grounds that enhance its natural beauty. As we strolled through the property, I was captivated by the breathtaking views. From a cozy lounge area, you have a panoramic view of the lake, where the water sparkles under the sunshine like a blanket of diamonds. They had binoculars available, allowing us to observe the delightful birds flitting about as well as the various activities taking place on the water, such as boats and fishing, adding to the lively atmosphere of this idyllic retreat.

Then after lunch, Jack wanted to take us to Waupaca, Wisconsin, which is an hour away from Oshkosh. They have a facility there where priests go during the summer for resting and relaxing, providing a serene escape from their daily responsibilities. It is only utilized during the warmer months, transforming into a tranquil haven away from the busyness of the outside world, a place where peace reigns, and nature’s beauty captivates hearts. Jack really likes the area and apparently goes there every summer, always returning refreshed and rejuvenated after his visits, sharing stories of his experiences that resonate with a deep sense of connection to this idyllic setting. The drive to the facility is quite scenic; it is isolated, where you navigate down a narrow gravel road for maybe half a mile to reach your destination, surrounded by towering trees that seem to stand as guardians of this retreat. As you drive through this heavily wooded area, the anticipation builds, and you arrive at a location nestled near a beautiful lake, where the calm waters reflect the surrounding nature and cradle the silence that fills the air. Unfortunately, that day, the weather was not our friend, as the wind was blowing hard, rustling the leaves ominously and casting an eerie atmosphere that made our hearts race. On the way back, while navigating down the narrow gravel road, we discovered that a tree had blown over and blocked our path, an unexpected challenge that increased the tension among us. Fortunately, the main trunk did not fall across the road, creating an obstacle we couldn’t ignore. Or we would have been stranded there, with no way to return to civilization. We quickly assessed the situation and were able to move the smaller branches, while Jeff skillfully maneuvered the car around the larger tree trunk, showcasing his adept driving skills. Adam and I worked together to hold back the branches that we couldn’t break away from the trunk, each crack of the branches above adding to the tension, instilling a growing concern that another tree might take a tumble while we were precariously navigating this situation. It was a moment filled with both anxiety and exhilaration, the adrenaline coursing through us as we worked together to overcome this obstacle, but ultimately, we got out unscathed. Yes, that is indeed an ideal place to get away and disconnect from the chaos of everyday life, where one can truly immerse themselves in nature’s embrace, allowing the soothing sounds of the lake and the forest to wash over the soul. We then got a bite to eat. We returned to the retreat house to spend an evening of talking and sharing events in our lives, where laughter echoed against the walls, and the warmth of friendship enveloped us like a comforting blanket.

Saturday, we met at the same time and went for breakfast in Oshkosh at The Mineshaft. This is primarily an evening restaurant, known for its vibrant nightlife and bustling atmosphere after dark. However, to our pleasant surprise, we discovered that they have a very reasonable breakfast menu priced at only seven bucks, which is quite a steal for the quality offered. The menu features a variety of delicious options, from fluffy pancakes to hearty omelets, catering to all breakfast lovers. You can tell that most of their profits are generated from drinks at night and the young crowd that flocks there for the lively energy and socializing. Despite its evening focus, the breakfast experience was enjoyable and filled with the friendly chatter of early risers, making our visit a delightful start to the weekend.

Driving by, we stumbled upon an intriguing establishment, the Military Veterans Museum, which piqued our curiosity, prompting us to make an impromptu visit. The museum showcased a comprehensive display of military conflicts throughout history, featuring an impressive array of vehicles and equipment that have played pivotal roles in combat. Adam and I, being veterans ourselves, felt a deep connection to many of the items and stories on display, as they echoed our own experiences and sacrifices. Jack and Jeff, were equally captivated by the exhibits, sharing their insights and memories as we walked through the museum. After thoroughly exploring, we heard about the EAA Museum of Flight, which was highly recommended by several locals, and decided it warranted a visit. To our amazement, we quickly discovered that EAA was far larger than we had anticipated; it was a treasure trove of aviation history where one could easily spend an entire day taking in the detailed exhibits and aircraft on display. After 2 or 3 hours of exploration, however, the older members of the group were feeling fatigued and agreed it was time to call it a day. Before heading back to the retreat house, we made a stop at a charming Japanese restaurant that Jack had enthusiastically recommended. The food was delicious, providing a delightful culinary experience that was perfect after a day of adventure. Since it was late afternoon, we decided to return to the retreat house to unwind and spend another evening reconnecting with each other. We shared countless tales and stories, reminiscing about the last twenty years we had spent apart. Each narrative was filled with laughter and nostalgia, creating a warm atmosphere that allowed us to strengthen our bonds. This experience was not just enjoyable; it was a memory that we would all cherish forever.

Sunday, we met at 5:45 am to have a small bite to eat, eager to fuel ourselves for the day ahead. After indulging in two days of large, hearty meals, a modest breakfast felt both satisfying and refreshing, a welcome change that allowed us to ease our way into the morning. At 6:30, with a mix of nostalgia and anticipation, we said our goodbyes to Jack, who had been an incredible host throughout our stay. We then drove to Appleton, where the excitement grew as we approached the airport. We managed to get on the plane somewhere around 8:30, and as we took off, I looked out the window at the ever-changing scenery below. The flight was smooth, and I was filled with thoughts of the past few days until we landed at DIA around 10:30. Stepping into the terminal, I was just astonished by the sheer number of travelers bustling around the airport, a vibrant mix of voices and energy. I also couldn’t help but notice that there were very few older travelers in sight; most were young, hurried individuals, all with destinations calling. After navigating through the crowd, Tara, Adam’s wife, picked us up with a warm smile. She took me home first, engaging in light conversation about our trip, followed by a detour to drop off Jeff, wrapping up what had been a memorable journey.

In conclusion, this has been a very memorable experience for me, one that I will cherish forever. I am incredibly glad that it all worked out well for everyone involved, as these moments are truly precious. I feel fortunate to have had the opportunity to visit Jack before our time is up on this earth. These visits remind us of the importance of connection and the bonds we share with our loved ones. Additionally, the time spent with my two sons was absolutely priceless; it filled my heart with joy and gratitude. It has been many years since we made the effort to reaffirm the love and the unbreakable bond a father and his sons share, a connection that will never fade away. Those moments together, filled with laughter and storytelling, not only reignited our familial ties but also allowed us to appreciate the present and the memories we create together.

D-Day, June 6, 1944

Do you remember D-Day June 6, 1944? I do. I was only 2 years old when the event happened, so I must say I learned about D-Day through the stories and historical accounts shared by those around me in the years that followed. In my opinion, this day stands as one of the most significant turning points in history, marking not only a pivotal moment in World War II but also a crucial step towards the liberation of Europe from Nazi occupation. If this day hadn’t happened, it is plausible to think that the United States might have found itself in a dramatically altered world, perhaps speaking German and living under a very different historical narrative. The bravery demonstrated by the Allied forces on that fateful day continues to inspire generations, reminding us of the sacrifices made for freedom and the importance of standing against tyranny when it arises.

Because of D-Day, I spent almost two years in Germany in the US Army, where I dedicated myself to protecting Germany and NATO nations from the ever-looming Soviet threat during the tumultuous 1960s. This was a significant period in my life, filled with a myriad of experiences that shaped my understanding of global affairs and the importance of camaraderie among allied forces. The friendships I forged with my fellow soldiers, alongside the local German populace, created a rich tapestry of memories that I will never forget. I cherish the adventures we embarked upon, from routine drills to engaging in cultural exchanges, all of which deepened my appreciation for the resilience of those living in a divided Europe at that time. The echoes of history resonate within me, reminding me of the sacrifices made and the bonds formed in the face of challenge.

I will always remember D-Day as long as I am spending time on this earth, not only for the sheer scale of the events that unfolded but also for the profound impact it had on the course of history and the lives of countless individuals involved. The bravery exhibited by the soldiers who stormed the beaches that day exemplifies courage in the face of overwhelming odds, forever etching their sacrifice into the annals of history. Each time I reflect on that pivotal moment, I am reminded of the resilience of the human spirit and the importance of honoring the legacy left behind by those who fought valiantly for freedom and peace.

Memorial Day: Honoring Sacrifices

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Memorial Day, observed on the last Monday in May (May 26, 2025), is a solemn occasion that honors U.S. military personnel who died in service to their country. This day serves as a poignant reminder of the sacrifices made by these brave men and women, who lost their lives while serving in various conflicts throughout history. Memorial Day honors all fallen service members across wars, not just specific conflicts, unlike Veterans Day, which celebrates all who served, whether in active duty or during peacetime. As communities gather to commemorate this day, they often participate in parades, memorial services, and other activities that not only pay tribute to those who made the ultimate sacrifice but also educate future generations about the importance of honoring our veterans and the freedoms they fought to protect.

Began as “Decoration Day” after the Civil War in 1868, when General John A. Logan called for decorating graves of fallen soldiers to honor their sacrifice and bravery. Waterloo, New York, is recognized as the birthplace, having hosted the first formal event on May 5, 1866, which laid the foundation for what would become a cherished national tradition. Over the years, this observance evolved into Memorial Day, officially becoming a federal holiday in 1971 with the Uniform Monday Holiday Act, which aimed to provide more three-day weekends for the nation’s workers by shifting it to the last Monday in May, thereby creating an opportunity for families to gather and reflect. On this solemn day, flags are flown at half-staff until noon, after which they are raised to full staff, symbolizing the remembrance of the deceased and the resilience of the living. Parades, ceremonies, and grave decorations occur nationwide, especially at Arlington National Cemetery, where thousands come to pay their respects, creating a profound sense of unity and gratitude as the nation pauses to honor those who sacrificed their lives for freedom.

Memorial Day marks the beginning of summer, with many Americans hosting barbecues, spending time with family and friends, or visiting memorials. This day includes activities such as parades and community events, as well as ceremonies to reflect on the sacrifices made for freedom. While enjoying the sun and grilling, people remember those who fought for their country, blending celebration with remembrance on this significant holiday.

This is the day to remember the ones that gave so much to protect and preserve this great country, honoring their sacrifices and bravery as we reflect on the countless lives impacted by their dedication. It is a time for us to express our gratitude, not just with words, but through acts of kindness and service, ensuring that their legacy of courage and commitment continues to inspire future generations. We gather to pay tribute to their unwavering spirit, recognizing the values they fought for and the freedoms we cherish today.

Have a truly wonderful and memorable Memorial Day, filled with joy and heartfelt moments!

Free Lunch at Rosemary’s Café: A Kind Gesture

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The bell above the diner’s door jingled as I stepped into Rosemary’s Café, the familiar scent of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon wrapping around me like a warm hug. It was a crisp Tuesday afternoon, and the place was humming with the usual lunch crowd—truckers at the counter sharing stories from the road, a family in the corner booth animatedly discussing their weekend plans, and a couple of suits talking shop over club sandwiches while occasionally glancing at their watches. I slid into my regular spot by the window, the red vinyl seat creaking under me as I settled in, glancing at the outside world where leaves danced in the gentle breeze. The table had that comforting stickiness from years of syrup spills and quick wipes, a testament to the countless meals shared and memories made within these walls. A waitress, familiar with my preferences, approached with a warm smile, ready to take my order, and I felt a sense of belonging wash over me, grounding me in the bustling atmosphere of this beloved café.

I scanned the room for Amy, the waitress who’d been serving me my turkey melt and black coffee every Tuesday for the past three years. Her brassy laugh and quick wit were as much a part of this place as the checkered floor, always filling the air with a sense of warmth that made each visit feel like a reunion. I could still hear her teasing me about my relentless order, claiming that even a gourmet chef would be bored serving the same dish weekly; her friendly banter often made my day. But today, my search turned up empty, and a younger server, maybe college-aged with a ponytail and a nervous smile, hustled over instead. Her name tag read “Kelly,” and I detected a hint of hesitation in her voice as she greeted me, her eyes scanning the menu before asking if I was ready to order. It was clear she was still finding her rhythm, and while I appreciated the effort, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for Amy’s familiar presence.

“No Amy today?” I asked, flipping open the menu out of habit.

Kelly shook her head, scribbling on her notepad. “She’s out sick. Nasty cold. I’m covering her shift. What can I get you?”

I ordered my usual—turkey melt, fries, coffee—and settled in, watching the street outside through the large window. A delivery truck rumbled by, its engine growling like a hungry beast, and a kid on a skateboard nearly wiped out on the curb, his laughter echoing faintly as he regained his balance and sped away. Kelly brought the coffee fast, though it was a touch weaker than Amy’s perfect pour, missing that rich, full-bodied flavor that always kicked off my mornings. The food hit the spot, as always: bread toasted just right, turkey sliced thin, and fries crisp enough to crunch joyfully with every bite. As I ate slowly, savoring the routine, I couldn’t help but feel it was a little off without Amy’s cheerful “How’s your day?” or her playful teasing about my predictable order, which always made the meal feel warmer and more inviting. The ambiance buzzed with the soft chatter of the other patrons and the scent of grilled sandwiches mingling with freshly brewed coffee, yet the absence of her bright smile made the moment seem strangely hollow, like a dish missing its key ingredient.

When I finished, Kelly dropped the check on the table—$15.47. I reached for my wallet, but she hesitated, then leaned in, her voice low like she was sharing a secret. “Actually, you don’t owe anything today.”

I blinked. “Come again?”

“It’s on the house. Well, not exactly—Amy’s covering it. She left a note this morning, said you’re one of her favorites. Loyal customer and all. She’s been meaning to do something nice for you.”

I sat back, stunned. “Amy’s paying for my lunch? She’s not even here.”

Kelly nodded, a small smile breaking through her nervous energy. “Yeah, she’s got a cold, but she called in to make sure we comped your meal. Said you’re ‘good people.’ Her words.”

I chuckled, warmth spreading in my chest as I thought about how dedicated Amy was to her work. Even in her current state, sick as a dog, she was still thinking about her regulars and the people she cared for. I pictured her at home, bundled in a quilt that must have been her grandmother’s, probably grumbling about missing her shift and wishing she could be there to chat with everyone. “That’s Amy, alright,” I said, a smile creeping across my face. “She’d be the first to tell you that even when under the weather, her heart’s still with us. Tell her I said thanks for always looking out for us, and to get better soon, yeah? We need her back on her feet, brightening up our days with her laughter and stories.”

“Will do,” Kelly said, clearing my plate. “She’ll be back next week, I bet. Tough as nails, that one.”

I left a tip anyway—ten bucks, more than usual, because Kelly was trying hard and genuinely seemed to appreciate the gesture. As I stepped outside, the bell jingling again behind me, I felt lighter, like the world was a little kinder than I’d thought before. The crisp air wrapped around me, invigorating and refreshing my spirit. Amy’s gesture, which might have seemed small to an outsider, wasn’t just about the free sandwich; it was a heartfelt reminder of the quiet bonds you build just by showing up and being present for one another in life’s routine moments. I made a mental note to bring her some of that fancy tea she liked, something soothing and special, when she was back in the café. Loyalty and kindness go both ways, after all, and I felt a deep appreciation for those connections that often go unnoticed.

Reflecting on a Mother’s Endless Love

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Every year, as May unfolds with the vibrant echoes of spring, we take a moment to honor the profound essence of our lives: our mothers. Mother’s Day is not merely a date on the calendar; it is a cherished opportunity to recognize the incredible women who infuse love into every aspect of our being, often while quietly sacrificing their own needs. This day is dedicated to you, Mom—and to every mother whose unwavering love touches and transforms the world.

I think of my own mother, her hands always busy, her heart always open. I see her in the small moments: the way she’d slip an extra cookie into my lunchbox with a scribbled note that said, “You’ve got this.” I hear her in the late-night talks when the world felt too heavy, her voice steady, reminding me I was never alone. Even now, as an adult, her hug feels like home, her laughter like a melody that rights every wrong.

Mothers are our first teachers, our fiercest protectors, our softest landing. They carry us—sometimes literally, sometimes through prayers whispered in the dark—long before we know how to carry ourselves. They celebrate our victories, no matter how small, and mend our broken pieces when life leaves us shattered. Their love is a constant, a lighthouse guiding us through storms we’re too young or too stubborn to navigate alone.

But let’s be honest: we don’t always see it. As kids, we roll our eyes at their worry, dismissing it as unnecessary fuss. We fail to understand that their concern stems from love, a deep-rooted desire to protect us from the harsh realities of life. As teenagers, we mistake their boundaries for chains, believing they limit our freedom and autonomy. In our rebellion, we challenge their authority without recognizing the sacrifices they make for our well-being. It’s only later, when life teaches us its hard lessons through experiences that shape our character, that we realize those rules were love in disguise. Those packed lunches, meticulously prepared with our favorite snacks, those sleepless nights spent waiting up for us to return home safely, those “call me when you get there” texts—they were her heart, stitched into every detail of our lives, a constant reminder of her unwavering support and affection. Each of those gestures is a testament to the deep bond that exists between us, one that we often take for granted until we have the wisdom to appreciate what it truly meant.

This Mother’s Day, I feel compelled to express the gratitude I often overlook: Thank you, Mom. Thank you for the silent tears you bore so that I could radiate joy. Thank you for the aspirations you set aside to elevate my own. Thank you for your unwavering love through my chaos, my blunders, and those times I lost sight of how truly blessed I am to call you mine.

To those whose mothers are no longer here, I feel you. The ache of their absence is a testament to the love they left behind. Celebrate them in the recipes you still make, the stories you tell, the values they etched into your soul. To those who’ve lost children or yearn to be mothers, your love matters, and it’s seen. And to the mothers reading this, exhausted from giving your all: you are enough. Your love is changing the world, one heart at a time.

This Mother’s Day, let’s cherish more than just flowers or cards. Let’s gather with our moms, listen deeply to their stories, and hold their hands gently. Let’s express to them how they are our heroes, our safe haven, our forever support. A mother’s love is truly timeless, unwavering, and steadfast. If your mother is no longer with you, take a moment to reflect on the times you may have taken her for granted, and recognize that you were surrounded by unconditional love, even in moments when it wasn’t fully visible.

Happy Mother’s Day, to every mom, everywhere. You are our everything.

The End of the Road

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The garage was a shrine of grease and memory, its air thick with the scent of motor oil and faded dreams. Elias stood in the shadowed space, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring at the car that had been his heartbeat for a decade. The ’67 Mustang gleamed under the flickering fluorescent light—midnight blue, chrome polished to a mirror shine, every curve a testament to the years he’d spent bringing her back to life. He loved her more than anything he’d ever known, from the days of tinkering with her engine to the late nights spent on long drives down empty roads, feeling the rush of the wind against his face as the engine roared to life. Every scratch on her surface held a story, each dent a memory of adventure and freedom that now seemed so far away. But now, standing in the garage, that bittersweet nostalgia twisted in his gut in a way he had never anticipated, for he had to destroy her. It felt like tearing apart a piece of his own soul, a sacrifice made in the name of moving forward, even if doing so meant leaving behind the one thing that had always understood him, the one constant in a world full of change and uncertainty.The call had come that afternoon, clipped and cold from a voice he didn’t recognize: “We know about the car. Stolen VIN, traced back to a chop shop bust in ’09. Crush it by morning, or we turn you in. Your choice.” Choice. What a joke. Turning himself in meant jail, losing everything—his shop, his name, the life he’d clawed out of nothing, piece by piece, through relentless grit and determination. Crushing her meant he could keep breathing, prolong the fleeting moments of freedom he had left, and try to find a way out of the suffocating mess he now found himself in. He’d cursed into the phone, slammed it down, pacing the garage until his boots wore a groove in the dust, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on his chest. The flickering fluorescent light overhead cast shadows that danced like specters of his past decisions, taunting him. But the math didn’t lie: one way he lost her, the other he lost everything else—each option felt like a sentence, a countdown to an inevitable loss that seemed to mock his every effort. Desperation clawed at him, urging him to think of a way out, yet his heart raced with the fear of what lay ahead, the unknown playing cruel tricks on his imagination, as he wrestled with the reality of his choices.

She wasn’t just a car. She was the summer he’d found her, rusted out in a junkyard, a skeleton of what she could be, a forgotten relic left to decay under the unrelenting sun. He’d rebuilt her piece by piece—nights spent hunched under the hood, hands black with grease, radio crackling old rock tunes, the air thick with the sweet scent of gasoline and promise. Each bolt he tightened, each dent he hammered out, brought not only life back to her body but also a sense of purpose to his own weary soul. She’d carried him through the worst of it: the divorce that shattered his heart, the bank breathing down his neck with threats that felt all too real, the days he didn’t want to get up, when the weight of the world seemed unbearable. Her engine’s roar was the sound of freedom, an anthem to the resilience that silently painted his days with newfound color; her wheel under his hands the only thing that ever felt like home, a sanctuary amidst the chaos. He’d named her Lola, whispered to her like she could hear him, sharing his secrets and dreams, and maybe she could, wrapped in the mystery of their bond, an unspoken understanding that transcended words. Together, they forged memories on winding roads, their adventure an escape, as the miles stretched beneath them like the fabric of a life reborn.

The sledgehammer leaned against the workbench, its head dull and heavy, a silent testament to the destruction about to unfold. Elias picked it up, feeling the weight settle into his bones, a physical reminder of the decision he had made. His throat tightened as he stepped closer, the Mustang’s grille staring back like a loyal dog that didn’t know what was coming, its once-pristine shine now a cruel contrast to his growing fury. He raised the hammer, hesitated for just a moment as memories flooded his mind—the late nights spent polishing the chrome, weekends dedicated to tuning the engine, and dreams of cruising down the coast. With a deep breath, he brought it down. The windshield shattered with a sound like a gunshot, glass spraying across the hood in a million tiny facets that sparkled in the light, an ironic beauty to the chaos. He swung again, denting the fender he’d spent months perfecting, the metal groaning under the blow as if it were mourning its own fate. Each hit was a wound—headlights smashed, doors caved in with a satisfying crunch, the roof buckling like a broken spine under relentless assault. His arms burned, sweat dripping into his eyes as his breath came in ragged bursts, yet he didn’t stop; he couldn’t stop, driven by an emotion he could hardly name, until she was unrecognizable, a heap of twisted steel and shattered pride, a manifestation of all his frustration and loss, standing as a grim reminder of what he once cherished and had been forced to destroy.

When it was over, he dropped the hammer, his hands trembling, knuckles flecked with blood where the skin had split. The garage was silent except for the drip of coolant pooling beneath her corpse, a tragic reminder of the devastating decision he had made. He’d killed her. Ten years of late nights spent in the glow of fluorescent lights, of scrounging for parts from rickety salvage yards, of feeling alive every time he turned the key—all gone in twenty minutes of a blinding moment fueled by panic and desperation. He could’ve fought, could’ve tracked down the bastard on the phone, taken the risk that lingered in the back of his mind like a ghost; he could have saved her. But he’d chosen survival over loyalty, sacrificing everything that had once mattered to him for a fleeting chance at escape. The shame of it burned worse than the ache in his shoulders, a searing guilt that wrapped around him like a vise, squeezing out any semblance of comfort he might have found in the remnants of his former life. The tools that had once brought him joy now lay scattered, mocking him with their uselessness as he stood there, grappling with the irreversible reality of what he had done.

Tomorrow, he’d haul what was left to the scrapyard, watch the crusher finish what he’d started, and tell himself it was worth it. The cops wouldn’t come, the shop would stay open, life would grind on. But tonight, Elias sank onto the cold concrete, staring at the wreckage of the thing he’d loved most—his heart heavy with memories. The echo of her engine still ringing in his ears, a haunting melody of joy and freedom now turned to sorrow. The garage felt emptier than it ever had, and so did he, as he reminisced about the countless nights spent tinkering, the laughter shared, the dreams discussed under the flickering fluorescent lights. Each dent and scratch on the car told a story, a testament to their journey together, and now, with the realization that it was all coming to an end, a deep sense of loss enveloped him. Each breath felt labored as he mourned not just the loss of the car, but the pieces of himself that had been intertwined with it, leaving an ache that would linger long after the metal was crushed and gone.

Celebrating 30 Years of Love: Our Anniversary Journey

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Today marks a significant milestone in our lives as we celebrate our 30th anniversary together, a journey filled with love, laughter, and cherished memories. It was on April 22, 1995, that we exchanged our vows, embarking on a beautiful adventure that has only grown richer with the passing years. Over the decades, we have navigated the ups and downs of life, always finding strength in our partnership, and today we reflect on the countless moments that have shaped our story.

This was a midlife marriage, a time when many people begin to reflect on their past choices and seek new beginnings. Dee, my wife, and I had both experienced previous marriages that came to a shocking end, leaving us with a complex array of emotions and lessons learned. We met later in life, both carrying the weight of our pasts but also a renewed hope for the future. Our shared experiences brought us closer, allowing us to understand each other in ways that maybe we couldn’t have at a younger age. We embarked on this journey together, committed to creating a loving and supportive partnership that we had both longed for.

We picked up each other and have forged an extraordinary, lasting relationship over forty remarkable years, overflowing with priceless memories and vibrant experiences that have only deepened the flames of our bond. Throughout these decades, we have passionately navigated the exhilarating highs and heart-wrenching lows of life together, fiercely supporting one another through every challenge and joy, allowing our love to blossom and intensify with each precious moment we share.

I look at her now and realize how fortunate and lucky that our lives crossed, as each moment spent together has woven rich memories into the fabric of our existence, shaping my understanding of love, friendship, and the beauty of shared experiences. Her laughter sparkles like sunlight breaking through the clouds, illuminating the darkest days, and the deep conversations we’ve had have opened my eyes to new perspectives that I had never considered before. The journey we’ve embarked on together has not only strengthened our bond but has also enriched our souls, creating a unique path that feels both surprising and beautifully destined.

Hopefully we will have many healthy years together, filled with joyful memories, shared adventures, and the kind of love that grows stronger with each passing day. As we navigate the ups and downs of life, I look forward to cherishing every moment and supporting each other through challenges, all while creating a lifetime of happiness and laughter.

My 2001 S10 Chevy Pickup

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Saying Goodbye to My Trusty 2001 S10 Chevy Pickup

For over two decades, my 2001 S10 Chevy Pickup was more than just a vehicle—it was a reliable companion. I bought it back in the day with a clear purpose: to tackle my 18-mile commute to work. It did that job faithfully, day in and day out, without complaint. But as life shifted gears, so did my need for it. I retired in 2006, and since then, the little truck’s role in my life slowly faded. In the last couple of years, I barely put 500 miles on it annually. With just 75,000 miles on the odometer, it still had plenty of life left, but it was clear it was time to let go.

The decision to sell wasn’t easy. That truck had been a steady presence, sitting in the garage, ready whenever I needed it. But practicality won out. It wasn’t getting much use anymore, and I figured I could save a bit on insurance and the occasional upkeep. Besides, a vehicle like that deserves to be driven, not just parked. So, after some thought, I decided to sell it to someone who’d appreciate it as much as I did—my son-in-law, Steve.

Steve was thrilled to take it off my hands. He’s always had a soft spot for that kind of truck, and I knew he’d treat it right. Sure enough, he’s been taking great care of it—keeping it clean, staying on top of any little things it needs, and driving it with the kind of enthusiasm I had back when it was my daily ride. What’s even better is that he’s told me I can borrow it anytime I want. It’s nice to know it’s still in the family, and I can hop in for a spin whenever nostalgia hits.

That S10 was a good truck—rock-solid and dependable. In all the years I owned it, the only repair it ever needed was a new oxygen sensor. That’s it. No major breakdowns, no headaches. Just a tough little pickup that got the job done. Even now, after letting it go, I miss it. There’s something about the hum of that engine and the feel of the wheel in my hands that tugs at me every now and then.

Selling it to Steve feels right, though. It’s not gone forever—just passed along to someone who’ll give it the miles and memories it deserves. I’m glad it’s in good hands, and I’ll always look back on my time with that Chevy with a smile.

Celebrating Fool’s Day

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Here’s a whimsical tale about April Fools’ Day:

In a chaotic village perched precariously between the undulating hills of medieval France and the eerie shadows of the Loire Valley, a cunning jester named Pipkin thrived. It was 1564, an era of upheaval where the villagers found themselves grappling with a world turned upside down. Just a short time ago, King Charles IX had announced a radical change: the new year would no longer kick off with extravagant feasts and debauchery on April 1 but instead would commence on January 1, dragging France into the rigid confines of the Gregorian calendar. Those pitiful souls clinging to the outdated tradition of welcoming the year in spring were ridiculed as “April fools,” their refusal to adapt a mere punchline in the eyes of the so-called enlightened.

Pipkin, the neighborhood prankster extraordinaire, spotted a golden opportunity in the chaos unfolding around him. Unlike the gloomy folks sweating it out in the fields or bartering over sheep fur like it was the last cookie at a bake sale, he skipped through life with a mischievous grin and a pouch bursting with enough tricks to rival a magician’s arsenal. The villagers loved him—most of the time—except for those moments when his notorious pranks left them blushing brighter than a beet or swimming in a puddle of ale. But this year, Pipkin made an oath to turn the king’s quirky calendar shuffle into a party so unforgettable, even the sourpusses would be tempted to crack a smile!

As spring arrived, the first day of April in 1564 was bright and fresh. The village was excited because Pipkin had called it “Fool’s Day,” a reminder of those still giving New Year’s gifts three months late. No one knew why he liked this day—some said it was because he once tricked old Farmer Grum into thinking his cow could sing. But Pipkin just smiled and said, “A fool needs no reason.”

That morning, Pipkin woke with a plan grander than any before. He scurried about, planting surprises like seeds in a garden. By noon, the village was a riot of chaos and glee. Baker Thom pulled a loaf from his oven only to find it squawked like a chicken—Pipkin had slipped a tiny bellows inside the dough, a trick he’d learned from a wandering Italian jongleur. Widow Mara opened her door to a “tax collector” demanding payment in turnips, only to realize it was Pipkin in a borrowed cloak, mimicking the royal officials who’d enforced the new calendar. Even the stern blacksmith, Gorrim, roared with laughter when his hammer turned to rubber mid-strike, bouncing off the anvil—a jest inspired by tales of Dutch pranksters Pipkin had heard at the tavern.

But Pipkin’s big moment was waiting for the evening when everyone in the village came together for the spring feast—kind of like their old New Year’s parties. As the sun started to set, painting the sky in cool shades of orange and purple, Pipkin hopped up on a barrel and started clapping his hands. “Hey folks!” he yelled. “Check out the wildest joke of all, a treat for all the goofballs from the past and present!” With a dramatic pull, he yanked on a rope, and from the trees came a shower of sparkling dust. The crowd gasped as it rained down on them—then blinked in confusion. Nothing happened. No magical changes, no funny stuff, just a little sparkle on their shoulders.

“Is this your trick, Pipkin?” grumbled Gorrim, brushing the dust off his beard. “A bit of sparkle and naught else?”

Pipkin’s grin widened. “Look closer, my friends.”

The villagers squinted and then erupted into laughter as if they’d just discovered a hidden treasure. The dust wasn’t just any old sparkle; it was like a winking mirror reflecting their hearts, playfully echoing the French tradition of calling April 1 “Poisson d’Avril,” or “April Fish,” for those who bit on pranks like a hungry bass. Throughout the night, every word was a comedy act: compliments morphed into cheeky roasts, grumbles transformed into zany jests, and even the bashful folks loosened up as if they’d chugged a gallon of giggles. Widow Mara poked fun at Thom’s infamous “fowl bread,” while Gorrim sheepishly confessed he had a secret crush on the rubber hammer. The feast turned into a riotous symphony of laughter, echoing louder and friendlier than any past New Year’s party ever could!

As the clock hit midnight, the dust cleared, and the village slipped into a comfy quiet. Pipkin, sitting on his barrel, watched everyone head home, their grins hanging around like stars. He’d done more than just pull a prank—he’d flipped the king’s decree into a wild day of fun and rebellion, a party for those who once celebrated the year back in April.

From then on, April 1 was known as Fool’s Day across the land, spreading beyond France to England, Scotland, and even the New World in time. This day became a canvas for joy and mischief, a celebration of laughter that echoed through towns and villages, where residents plotted playful tricks, each year trying to outdo the last. Pipkin never revealed where he’d found that magical dust—some said it came from a gypsy trader, others from a monk with a sense of humor—but each year, he’d wink and say, “A fool’s best trick is to make you one too.” His enigmatic charm only fueled the tradition, which flourished and grew, blending with tales of fish pinned to backs and mock gifts for the forgetful, as children and adults alike became embroiled in the exhilarating spirit of the day, creating unforgettable memories, all thanks to a jester who saw history’s shifts as a stage for laughter, ensuring that the essence of fun and camaraderie would endure through the ages.

April Fools’ Day, while keeping the magic and mischief alive. Enjoy your Fool’s Day!

My Car Speaks Out


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I am a 2022 Honda HRV, a compact yet mighty crossover, designed to navigate the urban jungle with a touch of adventure. My story begins in the bright, bustling lot of a Honda dealership, where I gleamed under the sun, my coat of Urban Gray Metallic catching the eyes of passersby.

My owner, Tom, found me on a crisp autumn day. He circled around, inspecting my sleek lines and spacious interior. I could feel his approval as he ran his hands over my alloy wheels and checked out my cargo space. There was an instant connection, and soon, I was rolling out of the dealership, my engine purring with excitement.

The first journey with Tom was memorable. We ventured out of the city, and I found myself navigating through winding country roads, my all-wheel-drive system gripping the pavement with confidence. The scenery was a blur of colors, but I felt every curve, every incline, as if I were part of the landscape itself.

Life with Tom was full of small adventures. We’d often drive to the local park where he’d open my tailgate, revealing the convenience of my Magic Seat feature, perfect for his weekend camping gear or a quick picnic. I loved those moments when the sun set, casting golden rays through my windows, warming the interior while Tom enjoyed his Gatorade.

Winter arrived, and I proved my mettle. With my heated seats and climate control, we kept cozy even on the chilliest days. The snow didn’t daunt me; my snow mode ensured we navigated through the white landscapes with ease. There was a sense of pride when I managed to get us out of the snowy parking lots where others were stuck.

But it wasn’t all about the adventures. I was there for the mundane too – the daily commutes, the grocery runs, the quiet drives to the library or to visit friends. Each journey, no matter how short, was a chance for me to serve and to be appreciated. Tom would sometimes talk to me, not expecting a reply, but I listened. I heard about his day, his plans, his hopes. It made me feel like more than just a vehicle; I was a companion.

Then there was the music. Tom loved his tunes, and my audio system was just right for him, filling the cabin with his favorite beats, making each drive a little concert. The joy of music, the beat matching the rhythm of my engine, it was a harmony unique to us. Tom was overjoyed when he discovered my UBS feature. Now he can bring thousands of his favorites copied onto a thumb drive and never hear the same song twice.

One day, we took a long road trip. The open road was liberating, the horizon endless. My fuel efficiency meant fewer stops, more miles under my wheels. We saw mountains, forests, and at one point, we pulled over at a viewpoint. Tom sat on my hood, watching the sunset, and I felt a sense of accomplishment for bringing him to such a beautiful place.

As time passed, I’ve seen maintenance days – oil changes, tire rotations – but each visit to the mechanic was a testament to how well Tom cared for me. I was not just a machine; I was a part of his life, his story.

Now, as I sit here, perhaps parked in the garage, I look back on these days with fondness. I’ve been more than a vehicle; I’ve been a part of Tom’s journey, his companion through the seasons, through the ups and downs. Here’s to many more adventures, to the bond that forms between a car and its owner, to the road less traveled, and to the road yet to come.

My Legacy 2nd Edition

Audio PODCAST ORIGINAL

Audio PODCAST AI ASSISTED

On May 21, 2024, I posted this blog. I have been interested in AI (artificial intelligence) lately and I thought I would try something. The first section is the original post and the second is the same post, but I used AI to enhance the post.

ORIGINAL

I never thought much about a legacy until after my near-death experience in February of 2023. My Bloodclot (Podcast). After the event I started to reconcile my life and thought, “why was I given a second chance?” I must have some unfinished business to do before my journey is over. I am just a mere mortal. I do not jump over tall buildings or stop speeding bullets. All I have is over eighty years of life on this earth. Searching for the purpose of a second chance I have decided to write about events and experiences in my life. Last August I remembered I had a site on WordPress and became active in the site. Since then, I have posted many events. Is this the purpose for the second chance? Who knows for sure.

The legacy I want to leave behind is, He was a good man. He tried to do the right thing. He was fair and didn’t take advantage of his fellow man. His faith of God and life after death was strong.

I hope my two sons remember me as a good father who did what he thought was right and necessary so they can live a good and productive life.

I hope my spouses do not regret that the years they spent with me was good years together and do not regret the years together.

I hope my stepchildren do not regret that I came into their lives and can call me stepdad with pride.

I hope all the other people I have come in contact with can say, “he was a good man!”

This is the same posting but was enhanced with AI.

I never thought much about a legacy until after my near-death experience in February of 2023. My Bloodclot (Podcast). After the event, I started to reconcile my life and thought, “why was I given a second chance?” This profound question resonated within me, leading me to reflect deeper on the moments that shaped my existence. I must have some unfinished business to do before my journey is over, some stories yet to tell. I am just a mere mortal, trying to navigate the complexities of life. I do not jump over tall buildings or stop speeding bullets; rather, I face each day with the wisdom that only comes from lived experience. All I have is over eighty years of life on this earth, each year contributing to my understanding of joy, sorrow, triumph, and loss. Searching for the purpose of a second chance, I have decided to write about events and experiences in my life, hoping that sharing my journey might resonate with others facing their own trials and tribulations. Last August, I remembered I had a site on WordPress and became active in the site, driven by a newfound sense of urgency to connect and share. Since then, I have posted many events that reflect my growth and transformation. Is this the purpose for the second chance? Who knows for sure, but I am committed to exploring this path, whatever it may reveal about my legacy and the impact I can have on others.

The legacy I want to leave behind is, He was a good man. He tried to do the right thing in all situations, often putting others’ needs before his own. He was fair and didn’t take advantage of his fellow man; rather, he stood up for justice and compassion in the community. His unwavering faith in God and life after death was strong, providing him with the strength to face life’s challenges with grace. He inspired those around him to reflect on their own values and encouraged them to pursue a path filled with kindness and integrity, leaving a mark that would remind everyone of the importance of living a life rooted in love and morality.

I hope my two sons remember me as a good father who did what he thought was right and necessary, always striving to be a positive influence in their lives. I want them to recall the moments we spent together, the lessons I tried to impart, and the values I hoped to instill in them so they can live a good and productive life filled with integrity, kindness, and perseverance. It’s my wish that they carry forward the teachings of hard work and compassion, using these principles as their foundation in navigating the complexities of the world as they grow older and make their own decisions.

I hope my spouses do not regret that the years they spent with me were good years together, full of fond memories and shared experiences, nurturing our bond as a family and building a solid foundation for our future. I wish for them to reflect on the moments of joy, laughter, and even the challenges we faced, knowing that all of it contributed to a rich tapestry of life we created together, and that they look back at our time together with a sense of fulfillment and appreciation, rather than any sense of regret.

I hope my stepchildren do not regret that I came into their lives and can call me stepdad with pride, knowing that I am committed to being a positive and supportive presence in their journey. My aim is to build a strong bond with each of them, filled with love, trust, and respect. I want them to feel comfortable sharing their thoughts and dreams with me, fostering an environment where they can grow and thrive. As we create lasting memories together, I aspire to be someone they can rely on, offering guidance and understanding as they navigate the complexities of life.

I hope all the other people I have come in contact with can say, “he was a good man!” Throughout my life, I have strived to embody kindness and integrity in everything I do, making a concerted effort to lend a helping hand or offer a listening ear when needed. It’s my desire that those who crossed paths with me will remember not just the surface-level interactions, but the genuine compassion and understanding I aimed to share with them. In reflecting on my journey, I hope they can recall moments of laughter, heartfelt conversations, and the small gestures that made a difference, ultimately leading to the sentiment that I was indeed a good man.

What do you think? I noticed that the podcasts have more than doubled in length. That is understandable because it has been difficult for me to enumerate on a topic.

Daily writing prompt
What is the legacy you want to leave behind?
View all responses

Ramblings Magazine Issue #10

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Readable PDF FILE LINK

Finding Inspiration in Life

audio PODCAST

Life is a beautiful, chaotic, and unpredictable journey. It’s a tapestry woven with threads of joy, sorrow, triumph, and challenge, each stitch contributing to the masterpiece that is uniquely yours. In a world that often feels overwhelming, it’s easy to lose sight of the magic hidden in the mundane, the lessons tucked into the struggles, and the inspiration waiting just beyond the horizon. But if we pause, breathe, and look closer, we’ll find that life itself is the greatest source of inspiration.

One of the most profound truths about life is that it’s imperfect—and that’s what makes it extraordinary. We often chase ideals of perfection, whether in our careers, relationships, or personal growth, only to realize that the cracks, the flaws, and the unexpected detours are where the real beauty lies. Think of a weathered tree, its gnarled branches telling stories of storms survived and seasons endured. Its imperfections are its strength, its character, its story. Similarly, our imperfections are not weaknesses; they are proof of resilience, growth, and the courage to keep moving forward.

Embrace your imperfections. They are the brushstrokes that make your life’s painting unique. Every scar, every mistake, every moment of doubt is a testament to the fact that you’ve lived, loved, and dared to try. Inspiration doesn’t come from achieving perfection—it comes from embracing the messy, beautiful reality of being human.

Life’s most profound inspirations often hide in the smallest moments. The warmth of sunlight streaming through your window on a quiet morning. The laughter of a loved one echoing through the room. The smell of rain on the earth after a long, dry spell. These fleeting, ordinary moments are the heartbeat of life, reminding us that happiness doesn’t always require grand gestures or monumental achievements. Sometimes, it’s found in the simplicity of just being.

Take a moment today to notice the small things. Pause to watch the way the wind dances with the leaves, or listen to the rhythm of your own breath. These moments are gifts, and they are everywhere if we choose to see them. Inspiration isn’t reserved for mountaintops or life-changing events—it’s woven into the fabric of the everyday.

Life is not without its challenges. We all face storms that threaten to uproot us, moments of doubt that make us question our path, and losses that leave us aching. But it’s in these moments of adversity that we discover our strength. Resilience is not the absence of struggle; it’s the courage to rise again, to keep walking even when the road feels impossible.

Think of the countless stories of human triumph—people who have faced unimaginable odds and emerged stronger, wiser, and more compassionate. Their stories remind us that we, too, have the capacity to endure, to adapt, and to grow. Every challenge you face is an opportunity to uncover a deeper layer of yourself, to find inspiration in your own strength. You are more resilient than you know, and every step forward, no matter how small, is a victory.

At its core, life is about connection. The relationships we build, the love we share, and the communities we create are what give life its richness and meaning. Whether it’s a deep conversation with a friend, a kind word from a stranger, or the silent understanding between you and someone you love, these connections remind us that we are not alone.

In a world that often feels divided, connection is a radical act of inspiration. Reach out to someone today. Share a smile, a story, or a moment of vulnerability. These small acts ripple outward, creating waves of kindness and understanding that can change the world, one heart at a time.

Inspiration comes from living with purpose. Purpose doesn’t have to be grand or world-changing—it can be as simple as showing up fully in your own life, pursuing what lights you up, and contributing to the world in your own unique way. Ask yourself: What makes your heart sing? What legacy do you want to leave behind? Purpose is not a destination; it’s a compass that guides you through life’s twists and turns.

Find your purpose, however big or small, and let it inspire you to live intentionally. Whether it’s creating art, nurturing relationships, or simply being a source of light for others, your purpose is your gift to the world.

Life is a gift, a fleeting, precious opportunity to explore, to love, to grow, and to inspire. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it. So, take a deep breath, look around, and let yourself be inspired by the miracle of your own existence. You are here, you are alive, and that alone is a reason to celebrate.

Embrace the journey, with all its imperfections, challenges, and joys. Find inspiration in the small moments, the connections, and the resilience that defines you. And remember: your life, with all its unique twists and turns, is a story worth telling—a story that has the power to inspire others, just as it inspires you.

Your life is yours alone. No one before you and after you will never have a life the same as yours. The life you save may be your own.

IF YOU WANT TO SEE MORE ABOUT MY LIFE, CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW.

My Story, The good, The Bad and the strange. LINK

Valentine’s Day


Audio PODCAST

Valentine’s Day, celebrated annually on February 14th, is a cultural and commercial holiday dedicated to love and affection. Here’s a look at its origins, traditions, and modern celebrations:

Origins:

  • Ancient Roots: The day has roots in both Christian and ancient Roman traditions. One theory suggests it evolved from Lupercalia, a Roman fertility festival held in mid-February.
  • Saint Valentine: The holiday is named after one or more early Christian saints named Valentine. The most popular story involves Saint Valentine of Rome, who, according to legend, was imprisoned for performing weddings for soldiers who were forbidden to marry. He reportedly restored sight to the blind daughter of his judge, and before his execution, he wrote her a letter signed “Your Valentine” as a farewell.

Traditions:

  • Exchange of Tokens of Love: The tradition of exchanging cards, flowers (especially red roses), and sweets has become central to Valentine’s Day. The first commercial Valentine’s Day greeting cards were introduced in the 19th century by Esther A. Howland.
  • Symbols: Hearts, Cupid (the Roman god of love), doves, and the color red dominate the iconography of the day, symbolizing love, affection, and passion.

Modern Celebrations:

  • Global Recognition: While Valentine’s Day is predominantly celebrated in Western countries, its commercialization has led to its global recognition. In some countries, it has adapted to local cultures or even spawned similar holidays celebrating love.
  • Beyond Romantic Love: Today, Valentine’s Day is not only for romantic partners. It’s also a day to celebrate love in all its forms – friendship, family, and even self-love. This broader interpretation includes “Galentine’s Day,” where friends celebrate their platonic bonds, often the day before Valentine’s Day.
  • Critiques and Alternatives: Some view Valentine’s Day as overly commercialized, leading to alternatives like “Single Awareness Day” or celebrations of self-love. There’s also a growing movement to use the day to honor all kinds of love, not just romantic relationships.

Cultural Variations:

  • Japan: In Japan, women give chocolates to men on Valentine’s Day, and men reciprocate with gifts on “White Day,” one month later.
  • South Korea: They celebrate “Black Day” on April 14 where singles eat black noodles to commiserate their single status, adding a unique twist to the holiday cycle.

Valentine’s Day continues to evolve, reflecting changes in society’s understanding of love, relationships, and personal expression. Whether it’s through traditional gifts or modern, inclusive celebrations, the day remains a testament to the universal desire for connection and affection.

Happy Birthday Elvis Presley

Podcast. AI assisted.

Elvis Aaron Presley, famously known as “The King of Rock ‘n’ Roll,” was born on January 8, 1935, in Tupelo, Mississippi. He would be 90 today if alive. His journey from a humble beginning to becoming an international icon is one of the most remarkable stories in music history. This article explores Elvis’s life, his contributions to music, his cultural impact, and why his legacy continues to resonate with audiences around the world.

Elvis grew up in poverty, raised by his parents, Vernon and Gladys Presley, in a two-room house. His musical talent was evident early on; at ten, he sang in a local church, and by 1946, his uncle gave him a guitar for his birthday, setting the course for his future. His family moved to Memphis, Tennessee, where Elvis graduated from Humes High School in 1953. That same year, he walked into Sun Studio to record a song for his mother’s birthday, inadvertently setting his career in motion when Sam Phillips, owner of Sun Records, heard his unique voice.

Elvis’s blend of country, blues, and gospel music, coupled with his dynamic stage presence, caught the public’s attention with hits like “That’s All Right” in 1954. His television appearances, especially on “The Ed Sullivan Show” in 1956, where his hip-swiveling dance moves caused a national stir, catapulted him into superstardom. Songs like “Heartbreak Hotel,” “Hound Dog,” and “Love Me Tender” became anthems of the era, defining a new genre—rock ‘n’ roll.

In 1958, Elvis was drafted into the U.S. Army, serving in Germany for two years, which temporarily halted his music career. However, his return in 1960 saw a shift to film and music that catered to a broader, family-oriented audience. Hits like “It’s Now or Never” and “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” showcased his versatility. By the mid-1960s, his movie career overshadowed his music, leading to a dip in his chart-topping success.

Elvis’s 1968 NBC television special, often referred to as the “’68 Comeback Special,” marked his return to the music scene with vigor. Dressed in black leather, performing live for the first time in years, this special rekindled his career. It was followed by hits like “Suspicious Minds” and a series of successful Vegas performances.

The 1970s saw Elvis continue to perform in Las Vegas, but his health and personal life faced challenges. On August 16, 1977, Elvis died at the age of 42, leaving behind a legacy that continued to grow posthumously. His record sales have surpassed a billion worldwide, and his albums have been re-released to new generations.

Elvis Presley’s influence extends beyond music. He was a significant figure in the cultural shift of the 1950s, breaking racial barriers by popularizing African-American musical styles to a broader audience. His fashion, particularly his jumpsuits, became iconic, and his dance moves influenced generations of performers. Moreover, Elvis’s life has been the subject of numerous books, films, and even conspiracy theories regarding his death.

Today, Elvis’s estate, Graceland, is a pilgrimage site for fans, and his music is celebrated yearly at events like Elvis Week. His influence is seen in artists across genres, from rock to country to pop, with artists like Bruce Springsteen, Beyoncé, and even Kacey Musgraves citing him as an influence. The film “Elvis” (2022), directed by Baz Luhrmann, brought his story to a new generation, showing the enduring fascination with his life and music.

Elvis Presley’s legacy is not just in the records he broke or the music he created but in how he transformed American culture, music, and entertainment. His life story is one of rags to riches, of talent meeting opportunity, and of a cultural icon whose influence transcends time. Elvis might have left the building, but his spirit, music, and cultural impact remain vibrant, proving that indeed, “Elvis has not left the building” in the hearts of millions around the globe.

The fifties was the era I grew up in. I have memories of Elvis. I remember watching The Ed Sullivan Show and the controversy about is motions. I remember the audience of screaming girls going into a semitrance when he sang. Elvis was drafted 6 years before I was, and his movies were big when I was stationed in Germany. I have many good memories of Elvis, and he will be remembered.

Ramblings Magazine Issue #7 podcast

Podcast LINK

Hard copy LINK

Hello Ramblings Magazine reader! Welcome!  

This is a podcast of the seventh issue of Ramblings Magazine.  

The Headings are: 

Back to Writing. 

Early Morning. 

My Eyes are Killing Me. 

My Regrets. 

Reminiscing is my Interest. 

Camping Tales. 

Past Experiences. 

A Bone Fish Grill Experience. 

Vicks VapoRub and Toenail Fungus. 

Mother’s Day May 12, 2024. 

I Should Have Done More. 

A World of Fruit. 

A Leader and a Follower. 

The Grok Platform and Me. 

New Mother Celebration. 

A three-letter middle name. 

Touched by God. 

My Favorite Machine. 

Retirement. 

Title and Date Unknown. 

Don’t Let Your Hormones Run Your life. 

What Matters. 

Frit and Leo. 

Don’t Remember Title or Date. 

Hardest Part of School Year. 

A Piece of Clothing.  

A Day of Reflection. 

2008 Was Not the Year to be Elected President. 

A Touch of Italy. 

And the Winner is. 

Photo Memory Section 

Twas the night before Christmas

PODCAST

On a chilly December 24th day in 1823, the pages of the Troy Sentinel in New York became the cradle for one of the most beloved Christmas stories of all time. “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” more commonly known as “The Night Before Christmas,” was first published, and with it, Clement Clarke Moore gifted the world an enduring piece of holiday magic.

Clement Clarke Moore, a professor of Oriental and Greek literature at Columbia College (now Columbia University), penned this poem as a Christmas gift for his six children. Little did he know that his whimsical tale would capture the hearts of generations to come. Initially, the poem was published anonymously, but it was soon attributed to Moore, who later included it in his 1844 collection, “Poems.”

Moore’s poem has had an indelible impact on how we perceive Santa Claus. Before “The Night Before Christmas,” Saint Nicholas was often depicted in various forms, but Moore’s vivid description gave us the jolly, rotund Santa we know today, with his “little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.”

  • Santa’s Attire: The poem detailed Santa’s outfit, with “a broad face and a little round belly,” clad in “a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.”
  • The Reindeer: Moore named Santa’s reindeer, introducing the now-iconic Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Dunder (later changed to Donner), and Blixem (later Blitzen).
  • The Magic of Christmas Eve: The narrative captures the wonder of Christmas Eve, with children nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums dance in their heads.

“The Night Before Christmas” has transcended its initial publication to become a cornerstone of Christmas tradition. It’s recited at countless holiday gatherings, illustrated in children’s books, and adapted into various forms of media. Here’s how it’s woven into our culture:

  • Literature: The poem has been illustrated by some of the finest artists, with each interpretation adding to its visual legacy.
  • Music: It has been set to music numerous times, with one of the most famous renditions being by composer Kenneth Darby in the 1950s.
  • Film and TV: The poem’s imagery has inspired countless animations and adaptations, spreading cheer across screens big and small.

Clement Clarke Moore’s contribution to Christmas folklore is immeasurable. His poem not only shaped our modern image of Santa but also instilled a sense of wonder and joy in the holiday season. It’s a testament to the power of storytelling, where a simple poem for children can resonate through centuries, influencing culture and tradition.

As we enjoy the festivities of Christmas, let’s take a moment to appreciate this piece of literary history. Whether you’re reciting it with family, reading it to your children, or simply reflecting on its verses, “The Night Before Christmas” remains a beacon of holiday spirit, reminding us of the magic that lies in the quiet moments before the dawn of Christmas Day.

So, this holiday season, perhaps you’ll turn to the Troy Sentinel’s gift to the world from 1823, celebrating not just Christmas, but the beauty of literature that connects us across time.

“It’s a Wonderful Life”

PODCAST

“It’s a Wonderful Life,” directed by Frank Capra and released on December 20, 1946, has transcended time to become not just a holiday classic but a timeless piece of cinematic history. Starring James Stewart, Donna Reed, and Lionel Barrymore, this film explores the depths of human emotion, the power of community, and the profound impact one life can have on many. Let’s delve into why this movie continues to captivate audiences around the world.

At its core, “It’s a Wonderful Life” tells the story of George Bailey, a man who has always put others before himself. Despite his dreams of adventure, George remains in his small town of Bedford Falls, running the family business, the Bailey Building and Loan, which offers an alternative to the ruthless practices of the local tycoon, Mr. Potter. On Christmas Eve, after a series of misfortunes, George contemplates suicide, believing he’s worth more dead than alive. An angel, Clarence, is sent to show him what life in Bedford Falls would be like without him. This journey into an alternate reality reveals the true value of George’s life and the countless lives he’s touched.

The Value of Individual Life: The film’s central theme is the worth of every individual. George’s life, seen through the lens of “what might have been,” illustrates how each person’s existence is a thread in the fabric of community life.

  • Community and Connection: “It’s a Wonderful Life” celebrates the strength of community. It shows how collective support can lift an individual out of despair, emphasizing the importance of friendship, family, and social bonds.
  • Sacrifice and Selflessness: George’s life is one of sacrifice, where he continually places the needs of others above his own desires. This selflessness is rewarded in the end, not with material gain, but with the love and gratitude of those he’s helped.
  • Hope and Redemption: The narrative arc from despair to hope is a powerful message, especially during the holiday season. George’s redemption comes from understanding his impact on others, offering a message of hope that resonates with viewers of all ages.

Cultural Impact

Despite its initial lukewarm reception, “It’s a Wonderful Life” has grown into an iconic film, often cited as one of the best movies ever made. Its annual television broadcasts have made it a staple of Christmas viewing. The film’s messages have influenced other works and are often referenced in popular culture. It has also sparked numerous adaptations, including stage plays, remakes, and parodies.

Why It Still Resonates

  • Universal Themes: The themes of the film are universal, touching on the human condition in ways that remain relevant. The struggle between personal dreams and communal responsibilities, the fight against corruption, and the power of kindness are timeless.
  • James Stewart’s Performance: Stewart’s portrayal of George Bailey is often hailed as one of his finest roles, capturing the essence of a man at his breaking point yet full of compassion.
  • Timeless Storytelling: Capra’s direction, with its blend of drama, comedy, and fantasy, crafts a narrative that feels both magical and real, making the film accessible and emotionally engaging.

“It’s a Wonderful Life” is more than just a movie; it’s a cultural touchstone that reminds us of the beauty in everyday life, the importance of community, and the profound impact of kindness. Its message that each life matters is perhaps more poignant now than ever, in a world that can often feel disconnected. As we watch George Bailey’s journey each year, we’re not just celebrating a film; we’re celebrating the human spirit’s resilience and capacity for love and change. This holiday season, or any time you need a reminder of the good in the world, “It’s a Wonderful Life” awaits to show you, once again, the magic in the mundane.

Timeless Tale of “A Christmas Carol”

PODCAST

In the heart of Victorian London, where the fog cloaked the city in a perpetual gloom, Charles Dickens penned a story that would illuminate the spirit of Christmas for generations to come. Published on December 19, 1843, “A Christmas Carol” is not just a book; it’s a cultural phenomenon, a moral compass, and a heartwarming tale that reminds us of the true essence of the holiday season.

The Genesis of the Ghost Story

Charles Dickens, at the time of writing “A Christmas Carol,” was already an established author, yet he faced financial difficulties and sought to reignite his passion for writing. His observations of the stark contrast between the opulent and the impoverished in London fueled his narrative. Dickens intended “A Christmas Carol” as a critique of the industrial age’s harsh realities, particularly the plight of the poor and the indifference of the rich.

The story centers around Ebenezer Scrooge, a miserly old man whose heart is as cold as a winter’s night. Dickens masterfully uses the framework of a ghost story to explore themes of redemption, charity, and the joy of giving. The tale unfolds over Christmas Eve night, during which Scrooge is visited by the ghost of his former business partner, Jacob Marley, and the Spirits of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet to Come.

The Characters and Their Symbolism

  • Ebenezer Scrooge: More than just a miser, Scrooge represents the potential for change in humanity. His transformation from a bitter recluse to a benevolent figure is the heart of the story.
  • Jacob Marley: Marley’s ghost serves as a harbinger, warning Scrooge of the chains he will forge in life with his greed and lack of compassion.
  • The Three Spirits: Each ghost shows Scrooge a different aspect of his life and the lives of others. The Ghost of Christmas Past revisits memories, revealing the joys lost to avarice. The Ghost of Christmas Present displays the current state of happiness and hardship, contrasting Scrooge’s isolation with others’ communal joy. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come presents a bleak future, motivating Scrooge to change his ways before it’s too late.

The Legacy of “A Christmas Carol”

“A Christmas Carol” did more than entertain; it influenced social reforms. Dickens’ vivid portrayal of poverty and his call for charity contributed to the establishment of the modern form of Christmas celebration, emphasizing kindness, generosity, and community.

The book’s publication was a commercial success, selling out its initial print run by Christmas Eve. Its enduring popularity has led to countless adaptations in theatre, film, radio, and television, each adding its own flavor to Dickens’ narrative but maintaining the core message of redemption and transformation.

Why “A Christmas Carol” Still Resonates

Today, “A Christmas Carol” continues to resonate due to its universal themes:

  • Redemption: The idea that it’s never too late to change one’s ways offers hope to us all.
  • Community and Compassion: In a world that often feels divided, the story reminds us of the strength found in community and the power of compassion.
  • The Spirit of Giving: At a time when consumerism can overshadow the holiday, Dickens’ tale brings us back to the joy of selfless giving.
  • Reflection and Growth: The journey through Scrooge’s past, present, and possible future is a metaphor for personal reflection and the growth that can come from understanding one’s impact on the world.

“A Christmas Carol” is not merely a seasonal read; it’s a yearly reminder of the values we should uphold every day. Whether through Dickens’ original prose, through the myriad adaptations, or in the quiet moments when we ponder our own lives, the story of Scrooge’s redemption persists as a beacon of hope, urging us to embrace the spirit of Christmas all year round.

The Flight That Changed the World

Podcast Link

On a chilly morning of December 17, 1903, the dunes of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, became the stage for one of the most transformative moments in human history. Above the sandy terrain, where winds howled with both challenge and promise, two brothers from Dayton, Ohio, named Orville and Wilbur Wright, were about to etch their names into the annals of time.

Orville and Wilbur had spent years, driven by an insatiable curiosity about flight, tinkering in their bicycle shop. They studied birds, read everything they could on aerodynamics, and even built their own wind tunnel to test wing designs. Their passion was not just for flying but for solving the puzzle of controlled flight, which had eluded humanity since Daedalus and Icarus.

The day was carefully chosen; they needed a steady breeze to lift their contraption, which they affectionately called the “Flyer.” The weather on this particular day was both cooperative and challenging, with winds gusting to 27 mph. The brothers, along with a small group of witnesses including their father, Bishop Wright, and a couple of local men, gathered at the chosen spot.

The Flyer was a delicate balance of wood, wire, and fabric, with a wingspan of 40 feet. It was equipped with a 12-horsepower engine and two propellers, all designed by the Wrights themselves. The machine looked more like a giant, ungainly kite than the sleek airplanes of the future, but it embodied the culmination of their dreams and calculations.

Wilbur had won the coin toss that morning, giving him the honor of the first attempt. However, a small mishap with the launch rail meant Orville would take the first flight. With hearts pounding against their chests, they moved the Flyer back into position. Orville lay prone on the lower wing, his hands gripping the controls.

At exactly 10:35 AM, with a shout from John T. Daniels, one of the witnesses who was also manning the camera, Orville released the wire that held the Flyer to the ground. The engine roared to life, and the propellers began to spin, pulling the machine forward. For a moment, it seemed as though it might merely drag along the sand, but then, almost magically, the Flyer lifted.

The flight was brief, lasting only 12 seconds, covering 120 feet. But those scant moments were enough to change the course of history. Orville landed, and the Flyer, though intact, bore the scars of its brief maiden voyage. The brothers were overjoyed; they knew exactly what they had achieved.

Wilbur took the next flight, going further than Orville, and by the fourth and final flight of the day, he managed to keep the Flyer aloft for 59 seconds, traveling 852 feet. Each flight was a testament to their dedication and ingenuity.

That day, the world didn’t fully grasp the significance of what had happened on that nondescript beach. Newspapers gave sparse coverage, and many dismissed the event as a mere novelty. However, Orville and Wilbur knew they had done something monumental. They had conquered the sky, not with magic but with science, perseverance, and an unwavering belief in human potential.

Years later, as airplanes became a common sight in the skies, people would look back on that December day with awe. The Wright brothers’ first flight at Kitty Hawk wasn’t just about defying gravity; it was about defying limitations, about the human spirit’s capability to soar beyond what was once thought possible. Their flight on December 17, 1903, was the first step into a new era of exploration, where the sky was no longer the limit.

Ramblings Magazine Issue #6 podcast

Podcast LINK

Hard copy LINK

Hello Ramblings Magazine reader Welcome!

This is a podcast of the sixth issue of Ramblings Magazine.

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The Headings are:

Happenings plus time equals your life.

It will not happen in my life.

Computers and internet.

February 7, 2023.

Time for Spring.

M and M’s.

My interests have changed.

Amazing news.

My dream came true.

King for a day.

Remembering my parents.

I am just a mere mortal.

Patriotism.

A gift of life.

I do not have a favorite shoe.

A three-letter middle name.

100 years ago.

I am addicted to computers and the internet.

I survived the March 14 record snowstorm.

I am ready for spring.

Easter thoughts.

Retirement years.

The necessities of starting the day.

A dog, cat, or what?

Just be myself.

Hormones in high school.

X, formerly twitter and their grok feature.

Photo memories.

That’s it for this issue. Hope to see you next issue

Have a nice day!

Ramblings Magazine Issue #5 Podcast

Ramblings Magazine Issue #5 Podcast

Ramblings Magazine Issue #5 PDF file

Hello Ramblings Magazine reader! Welcome!  

This is a podcast of the fifth issue of Ramblings Magazine.  

The Headings are: 

Memories of Faith. 

Comments on Christmas and Holidays. 

What’s Next? 

Cars in My Life. 

A Good Leader. 

No Dream Job for Me. 

I Was Named After? 

I Don’t Have a Pet. 

Life is Fun. 

Something I Missed. 

Decision. 

The Lottery and Me. 

Complaints, Complaints, Complaints. 

Heights. 

Vintage Computer. 

Cleaning Out Files. 

I Avoid the Kitchen. 

Fifteen Years

I have received notice from WordPress that I have been on this site for fifteen years.

Where does the time go?

PODCASTS

BOOKS

Proud to be an American

Audio Link

I remember when I was going to elementary school and sometimes, I would arrive when the flag was being raised for the school day. We would stop and pay respect to the flag until it was raised. I was proud to be an American. You would stand in an assembly and say The Pledge of Allegiant. Again, I was proud to be an American. You learned in school the history of America, and this made you proud to be an American. 

I was drafted into the army in 1964. In basic training I crawled through mud trying to keep that damn M-14 rifle clean so it would not jam. I could not take a leave for the Thanksgiving of 1964 because I was told it was critical that I go to Germany. Many nights I froze my butt standing guard on German soil protecting America from the Soviet threat. Vietnam deployment constantly hovered over my head when I was in the army. I would have gone to Vietnam if called. Why? I would have gone because I am proud to be an American. 

Throughout my life there have been many events that made me proud that I am a member of this country. I will be proud to be buried in Fort Logan National Cemetery when that time comes. 

I have noticed a few things that bother me. For example, I lived close to an elementary school where I can see the flagpole in the daytime. Many days the flag is not raised when school is in session. I guess putting out the flag in the morning is not a priority anymore. I recently attended a school function at my grandsons’ school and the principal forgot about the color guard waiting in the hall to present the flag. Some teacher had to remind her about them. I guess that was not that important to her. It did not take me forty years to be proud of this country.  

Illegal immigration is a serious problem. There are millions of people who want to come to America and live the American dream. To me that means that life must be pretty good here. Today is the day for everyone that put their life on the line protecting all that live in the country. If it wasn’t for them this country and the freedoms, you take for granted would not exist.

Happy Veterans Day!

Self-Publishing a Book

Podcast

Everyone has a book! Every public figure appears to have a book. Politicians, news commentators, TV stars and many other have a book for sale. They may be written by ghost writers, but they have a book.

For a long time, I had a dream of creating a book. However, I knew it would be virtually impossible to entice a major publisher to even consider a project from me. My ego is larger than my abilities and I shelved the dream of publishing a book.

I cannot remember how I stumbled onto Blurb Books. I think it happened when I was blogging on YourHub.com. This was a web site for The Rocky Mountain News, a newspaper in the Denver metro area. I think a fellow blogger mentioned Blurb Books to me and I went to their website.

My wife and I took a trip to Italy, and I wanted to create a book about our adventure. In June of 2008 I created my first book on Blurb Books. LINK

Since then, I have published over twenty creations on Blurb Books. They have many tools you can use to create your own book.

I have used their publishing software in the past until I discovered that you can now use the PDF format and send the file to them, and they can create your book. I use Microsoft Power Point to create my book and save as a PDF file and it has worked out very well.

You can keep your books private or sell them in their bookstore. Or you can set them up to sell on Amazon or Ingram. You can set your profit margin. You must remember though that you are responsible for the grammar and spelling, the photo resolutions and everything else. Therefore, proof and then again. They print what you approve!

https://www.blurb.com/bookstore

Here is my latest book LINK

For the price around a Starbuck’s latte, you can download a PDF file of this 226-page book.

Friends are Gifts in Life

As I recall the friends I had when growing up until my senior years I try to think of what they had in common? Most friends come from encounters at school, neighbors, work, church and so on. Friendships develop from conversations and encounters. Many do not develop into anything, and others grow in a friendship that becomes a gift of life.

The quality that I value the most is, a friend allows me to be myself and I allow them to be themselves. Once you are allowed to be yourselves the union will become stronger and memorable to be remembered throughout the remaining time in your life.

Daily writing prompt
What quality do you value most in a friend?
View all responses

A Life of Work

This was not a job but is what I did to earn some extra money. During the summer when I was in middle school, I caught and sold nightcrawlers for the local sporting goods store. The owner told me he would take all I could catch. He paid me a buck a hundred and then sold it for two bucks. I would drop off the nightcrawlers on Thursday and the anglers would buy them for the weekend. I would average about a thousand a week and that was ten bucks a week. The only expense I had was flashlight batteries. If I remember correctly, I would earn about two to three hundred dollars for the summer. That was a lot of money in the fifties.

My next job was parttime at the public library while going to high school. I was a library page, which is code for a do whatever was necessary. The most interesting job was running the elevator on Saturdays. The elevator was automatic, but the crowds were large, and they overwhelmed the automatic system. Another job was they had a basement and sub-basement where books were stored. They would receive an order and they had pages in the basement where they would retrieve the books and put them on a lift that carried them up to the upper floors.

After graduating I started working for a government contractor that was building the Titan I ICBM for the government. I was a teletype operator in the purchasing department. Unfortunately, the job was on the swing shift. So much for my night life.

Three and a half years later I received the letter stating, “your friends and neighbors have selected you to become a member of the United States military.” For the next two years I was in the army. I was fortunate enough to go to Germany instead of Viet Nam. I then had two years of active reserve and then two years of inactive reserve. Then my military obligation was over.

After my two years of active duty, I returned to the aerospace contractor because there was a law that they had to hire me back since returning from military service. A year later I was laid off. They just hired me back to fulfill their legal obligation to have a job for me after military service.

I then started working for a large electronics manufacturer in the consumer electronics industry. First, I was an assistant buyer, then a buyer and then became a department manager. This career lasted for over twenty years and was the highest paying position in my working period. After a purchase of the company a year later the company buyer decided to close thirteen distribution warehouses across the nation and here, I was forty-six years of age and without a job. During that time the unemployment rate was eight percent. Try to tell me there is not age discrimination happening.

Working in part time and temporary positions for four years I finally get a full-time job in a high-tech position where lasers were used to cut close tolerance components used in the solid-state electronics field. This was a field that was totally new to me. I started as a temp, and it worked into a full-time position. Tell me a positive attitude and hard work is not the way to go. This continued for thirteen years and then I decided it was time to retire and have been retired now over fifteen years. Now, “Every Day is Saturday!“

After retiring I decided to give writing a try and this is where I am now. I have posted over two hundred articles on WordPress and having fun doing it. Most of my articles are about experiences in my life. I am not doing this for money, I am just doing it because I enjoy reminiscing and sharing events in my life.

https://tomt2.com/ Stop by and make me feel good. I like to see a lot of viewing numbers, likes, and comments.

Daily writing prompt
What jobs have you had?
View all responses

Memorial Day May 27, 2024

Today, the one day in the year that we remember the ones who have fallen for the freedoms and life we enjoy every day of the year. They are the ones that stepped up and fought for this country and made the final sacrifice. So, in your busy schedule of enjoying the freedoms and comfort, take a moment to remember the ones who gave you this gift of freedom and security.

Peace

Throughout life you start to accumulate stuff. You get material things. You learn, you have encounters with other beings. You collect all this stuff in this short span of your life. Society promotes that material possessions are the most important in life. Many have a worth more than I cannot comprehend. Do they have it all? That is up for debate.

Little over a year I had a near death experience. I was on the operating table, and I heard an aide say, “doctor his blood pressure is dropping”! I was feeling really bad. I could not inhale or exhale. I thought, this is it! My life is over! After that I felt something, I never felt before in my life. I felt peace, no fear, no anger, nothing, just peace. This peace is very hard to explain. But it is a peace I want to feel again. No, I did not see a light at the end of the tunnel, no angels, no music, just peace, Total peace.

After a period of time, I started to hear operating room noises, I am still alive! What a shock, I thought I died. For a period of time, they did things to me and then the doctor started talking to me. He said, “Tom we got most of the clot removed and things look promising.” I said that I heard my blood pressure dropping and I asked him how low did it go? There was a pause, and he said, “you don’t want to know, and I am not going to tell you.” To this day I don’t know how low the blood pressure was. Continuing the conversation he said, “Tom I think we made the right decision to keep you awake during the procedure instead of anesthesia. I am afraid that if you would have gone under anesthesia, we would have lost you. I feel I had a preview of time after death. Total peace!

My conclusion is that “having it all” is obtainable, but it will happen during the time after death.

I recently discovered a website Near Death Research Foundation. It is an interesting site. I am going to enter my experience on this site sometime.

Daily writing prompt
What does “having it all” mean to you? Is it attainable?
View all responses

They are Just Material Possessions

Everyone has stuff. Many have lots of stuff. Others have more stuff than they need. You get attached to a new car or new home. Small mementos from someone you are attached to may mean a lot, but they are just stuff. This world is full of stuff, and many are necessities for a comfortable life. Money just buys stuff but that does not guarantee happiness. I have no material possession that I want to put in my coffin when I pass on.

What I do value is my memories played out in my living days. I value the family and friends in my life and all the wonderful memories that they were a part of. Memories of grandma, my parents, my sons, my spouses, my stepchildren, and everyone who has entered into my life is what I cherish. Maybe they could put a thumb drive in my coffin with all of these cherished memories.

Daily writing prompt
What personal belongings do you hold most dear?
View all responses

Yes, I Have Collections

I have all kinds of collections. Do they have any monetary value? Not much. My collections are items I have collected over my life. I always think, “can I use this at some later point?” With that in mind I started collecting.

My first collection is my nut a bolt collection. Since I have been a homeowner since the early seventies I have done many projects around the home. You always don’t have the correct nail, bolt, screw, so you trot off to Home Depot and get what you need. You always end up with leftovers. So, I started collecting them. I also had projects that I recycled. I removed every nut, bolt, screw, washer, nail, that I could save. My collection has expanded to five- or six-gallon containers. Bolts in one container, nuts in another and so forth. This collection has saved me many times when I needed a couple of bolts and nuts to repair or finish a project.

The next collection is coins and paper money throughout my life. I have silver dollars, Indian head pennies, buffalo nickels, old quarters, silver certificates of paper money. I also have a stack about an inch high of two-dollar bills. Are they valuable? I don’t have a clue. I have just been collecting them through my life. I also have some World War II savings bonds my parents took out for me. Sure, they could be cashed in, but the paper bond and the age of them is worth more to me than the monetary cash in value.

Third collection is photos. I have photos my parents have accumulated over the years and the photos I have also collected over the years. Many black and white photos and color with my dad’s collection of slides. The last time I looked at the slides they are starting to discolor and fade. I don’t know how long they will last. Digital photography came into existence, and I don’t have a clue how many thousands of photos I have. I have the problem of finding a photo. I never bothered to catalog them. Therefore, I must use the hunt and search method.

Another collection is my rambling writings about my life and experiences. This collection is the most valuable to me. Whether it is valuable to anybody else is up for debate. WordPress contains a large portion of these ramblings. https://tomt2.com/ I have a collection of all the articles that were printed in the Rocky Mountain News insert of YourHub.com. During that time, they published over seventy-five of my posts. This was the motivation to start writing stories and tales down.

My newest project is Ramblings Magazine https://tomt2.com/magazine I have had comments that I should write a book. I thought about it, but a book may take years to do so I thought a magazine would be better since I am in my senior years and my warranty ran out many years. ago.

Daily writing prompt
Do you have any collections?
View all responses

My Legacy

I never thought much about a legacy until after my near-death experience in February of 2023. My Bloodclot (Podcast). After the event I started to reconcile my life and thought, “why was I given a second chance?” I must have some unfinished business to do before my journey is over. I am just a mere mortal. I do not jump over tall buildings or stop speeding bullets. All I have is over eighty years of life on this earth. Searching for the purpose of a second chance I have decided to write about events and experiences in my life. Last August I remembered I had a site on WordPress and became active in the site. Since then, I have posted many events. Is this the purpose for the second chance? Who knows for sure.

The legacy I want to leave behind is, He was a good man. He tried to do the right thing. He was fair and didn’t take advantage of his fellow man. His faith of God and life after death was strong.

I hope my two sons remember me as a good father who did what he thought was right and necessary so they can live a good and productive life.

I hope my spouses do not regret that the years they spent with me was good years together and do not regret the years together.

I hope my stepchildren do not regret that I came into their lives and can call me stepdad with pride.

I hope all the other people I have come in contact with can say, “he was a good man!”

Daily writing prompt
What is the legacy you want to leave behind?
View all responses

Cold Weather

I was born and raised in cold weather. The day I was born the weather was in the middle twenties. Denver metro has cold weather from October to March every year. In January there is usually a couple of episodes of below zero weather. That is when it is really cold.

When in grade school I remember walking to school, which was about ten blocks away, in cold snowy, blowing snowstorms. They didn’t have school bus service for public grade schools in those days. The cold and snow were just something you had to deal with. The coldest and most miserable was when I was in the army stationed in Nurenburg Germany in the winter of 1965. That was cold! Plus, you had to be out in the cold making sure the equipment was still operating.

I didn’t pay much attention to the weather until I started to become older. The older I get the more I think about cold weather. It has been over fifteen years since I have retired and now I do not like cold weather. No wonder older citizens move to a warmer climate when they get older.

BRRRRR!!!!!!

Daily writing prompt
How do you feel about cold weather?
View all responses

A Leader and a Follower

I have been a leader and a follower. In my growing years I was a follower. You learn to lead by following. Throughout my growing years I was never a head boy or the leader of a school club. It was easier to follow in army period than lead.

After army life I decided it is time for me to move forward in a private industry. I became a team lead and worked my way up to swing shift supervisor. Two or three years later I became a department manager for a large electronic manufacturer. I held that position for over twenty years. I think that could be classified as a leader.

During that time, I hired and fired for a department of over fifteen employees. We had office workers, warehouse personnel, delivery drivers, and outside salespeople. There was also a building. I had to get the contractors to maintain the building, lease delivery vans and have a solution for any unforeseen problem. The only requirement from corporate office was to show five percent net profit every year.

It was an experience and sometimes very stressful. Unfortunately, when I was only forty-six the corporation closed 13 warehouses across the nation, and I became unemployed. I survived the transition from a high paying executive to a person that had a difficult time finding a second career.

Now it has been over eighteen years since I retired, and all things worked out well.

Daily writing prompt
Are you a leader or a follower?
View all responses

A world of fruit

Without a doubt my favorite fruit is bananas. A half of banana with my boring breakfast cereal. My doctor recommended that I eat a half of banana because of the high sugar content, and I am prediabetic. You peal them instead of wash them, how convenient.

Next is the grape. I prefer green grapes over red. But they do say red grapes a better for you because of the additional antioxidants. Oh well, life is not perfect.

The third pick is oranges. We have become attached to the small Cuties. Some call them clementines. Standard size oranges are just too large for me and the sometimes can be a job to peal.

One must not forget apples. An apple a day keeps the doctor away.

Finally, are olives. I enjoy green olives. Sometimes I eat 6-7 or a dozen at a time. These are the small olives, not the martini size large olives. The olive haters ask me, “how can you stand them, they are too bitter?” I reply, “In a previous life I was a Roman soldier and during a march to a new battle we would stop by the olive orchard and eat them right off the tree.” If you believe this tale, I have a bridge in Arizona you can buy.

Daily writing prompt
List your top 5 favorite fruits.
View all responses

I should have done more.

Since I am in my seasoned years, I think it is too late to think about an improvement I could make.

However, I can think about what I could have done differently. Throughout my life there was a telephone. In my younger years the phone was a four-party system, and each party had a special ring, so the parties knew whether to answer or not. It is amazing how this technology has progressed.

Throughout my years I always waited for the phone to ring and very seldom started a call. It is one of the many questions that I don’t know why. I still do not like to make phone calls. Therefore, I should have made more phone calls instead of just waiting for the phone to ring.

Daily writing prompt
What’s one small improvement you can make in your life?
View all responses

Mother’s Day May 12,2024

Today is Mother’s Day and a couple of days ago I realized that it has been over forty years since mom passed away. I was in her body for nine months. She nourished me, kept me warm and protected me while I was just growing inside her. I am sure I created her a lot of pain since she commented to me that I was a large baby.

From birth until my twenties, she fed me, protected me, taught me many things about living and life. As I look back at my life, I was a handful during my young years. One time while standing in the grocery store behind this lady. The lady turned around and said to me, “you little snot!”. My mother asked her what the problem was, and the lady replied. “Your son just pinched me on the butt!” I then received the lesson that you don’t pinch ladies’ butts.

The teenage years were very difficult for me which today I still do not know why. I was angry at the world and didn’t like myself. I took everything for granted and gave my mother many trying times in those years. I got involved with the wrong crowd of teenagers and was very fortunate I didn’t get arrested or paid long term for any deeds we did. My mother continued to love me and never left my side.

When I was drafted into the army, she faithfully wrote me a letter every week If it wasn’t for the letters from mom, I would have received very few letters from home during military times. I had very few friends at that time. I am the type of person that does not attempt to continue a friendship.  

Coming home from the military my parents welcomed me back into their home and allowed me to live there until marriage came into my life. I did have to pay room and board while I lived there though. It was good for me because I needed to realize in this world nothing is free. Mom loved me just a much as she did when I was young.

Through marriage, a divorce, living alone mom was always beside me. Her love never faulted. I now regret that I took this love for granted and I wish I would have done more and showed more appreciation for this everlasting love. I am sure mom is looking down at me now and saying, “Tom, I still love you”.

Mom, I love you. I am sorry it took me so long to realize how much I love you.  

Past experiences

What gives me direction in my life? Everything that I have learned or experienced in my life.

From birth until now everything that I have learned or experienced in life gave me direction. I learned the necessities in life like going to the bathroom in the toilet instead of my diaper. My mother raised me as a Catholic and that gave me direction in my young years. Going to kindergarten and twelve more years of schooling added on to this direction of life.

Army service gave me a vast source of knowledge of how to deal with many different personalities and cultures. You meet hundreds of people from different parts of the country, and this was a great help in my later years dealing with people. This learning experience was very helpful in my journey of life and do not regret it one bit.

Employment in private industry, marriage, raising children, divorce and the heartaches and hurt involved in all of the above made me realize that the perfect life I have dreamed of may not come true. These events made me realize that my dreams may not be the purpose for my time on this planet.

After a period of time, I found a new direction with a new loving wife and her loving family. This told me there is light at the end of dark tunnels. Following this I retired and discovered that “Every day is Saturday.” and the stress of full-time employment is over. We also moved into the home of my dream. These events also gave me a direction in life.

A little over a year ago I was standing in front of deaths door and Dr. Death was holding the door open. I survived and as my wife says, “your room was not ready yet.” Again, another life experience has changed my direction in life. Life is not over and according to statistics the survival rate of my illness was three to five percent.

In conclusion, many events in my life and learning experiences has changed my life. I believe the purpose in life is to learn, and one should learn as much as then can in this short visit on planet of earth.

Daily writing prompt
What gives you direction in life?
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