Respect

I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out what to write about.  I thought I might write about the ten suggestions, formally known as the Ten Commandments, before the politically correct and the I don’t believe in God crowds got wind of them.  Then I remembered my visit to my dermatologist just the other day.  There in the room where I waited was a notice that gave me the topic I’d like to write about.  I will explain later about that notice.

I was brought up in a home where we were taught respect.  I am not sure if very many homes have that particular objective high on the list of things to teach the kids.  There certainly isn’t much respect displayed out there in the public sector.

What is respect?  Aretha Franklin had her definition of respect and she put to song.  Have a listen to what she had to say or rather sing…..
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0XAI-PFQcA

I looked it up on line (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/respect) and the definition had me more confused than I was before I looked it up.  I had to get half way down the page before I realized I was looking for the verb form not the noun deal.  That explains my problem with English when I was in High School.

I thought that I actually knew the definition of respect before I looked it up.  Then I discovered that I didn’t know the half of it (what ever that means).  The other night (Tuesday) we had a cook out with the cub scouts.  Before we headed out to try and start the next great wildfire (we can’t let New Mexico out do us) we had our opening exercises.  We do the pledge of allegiance, the scout promise and then an opening prayer.

The boys rushed through the pledge of allegiance with everyone saying it at a different speed.  It was not acceptable.  I stopped them at that point.  I told them what I am about to tell you.  I spent four years in the Navy and seven years as a buck Sergeant in the Army National Guard.  I put my life on the line to defend the flag and all that it stands for.  It deserves respect.  When we (any of us) as Americans say the pledge we should say it with respect.

When I was a young man (in my twenties) I was tough.  I could and did on a few occasions stand toe to toe in a ring and trade punches with someone else foolish enough to do the same.  I could hit a four-inch bulls eye with an M-16 at one hundred yards and do the same thing at fifteen yards with my four inch 38.  I may have had all that tough guy stuff going for me but every time they played the Star Spangled Banner or Anchors Away tears would come to my eyes.  I had learned respect for my country, the flag and the freedom we have here in this wonderful country of ours.

I realized something yesterday when I was talking about this with my teenage granddaughter.  She said something that really makes a lot of sense.  If you are nice to people first it heads off their being rude to you.  Sort of like a pre-emptive “show respect for others” strike.

I started to think about the fact that most people I come in contact with are nice.  Then I thought about what my granddaughter said and wondered how many of them didn’t get the chance to be rude because of my pre-emptive smile.  I draw it like a gun.

The way that we behave in public shows everyone around us how much respect we have inside of us.  Take the characters that use profanity in public places.  I am a firm believer that in some cases profanity is a crutch for people with a limited vocabulary.  In other cases it is a direct result of having no respect for those within earshot.

Have I ever used profanity?  Hey, does a bear defecate in the woods?  Jumped around that one didn’t I.  I was a sailor and a soldier I know a bunch of nasty words you probably haven’t even heard.  Even back then when I was a sailor I had enough respect for others to not use profanity in mixed company or in front of people I didn’t know very well.

Lack of respect seems to be running deep these days.  It’s not gone for good, respect that is, it’s just on an extended vacation.  At least that is what I am hoping for.  Our day-to-day lives can be improved by just a little respect.

At the start of this I mentioned a visit to my dermatologist.  Her name is Annette Headley and she is a great doctor.  When I showed up thirty minutes late for my appointment (I had the incorrect time) she accommodated my error.  Her staff is polite and very nice to talk to.  While I was awaiting her examination I noticed a printed notice on the wall in the examining room.  It basically stated that some patients have exhibited rude and some times abusive behavior towards the staff and noted that if you did that you would be asked to leave and would not be welcomed back.  I can only imagine what would make someone behave that way in her office.  My conclusion was simply a lack of respect laced with liberal amounts of ignorance.

Respect starts with each of us as individuals.  It’s called “Self Respect”.  I’m sure that you have heard of it.  Once you have learned how to respect yourself you can move on to the other forms of respect.  I find it difficult to imagine someone who can’t respect themselves, respecting someone else.

The rules are pretty simple.  To be able to respect yourself you need to emulate those things that generate respect.  Would you respect someone who tells a lie at the drop of a hat?  That would be number nine on the list of ten suggestions.  If the answer to that question is no then you will have trouble having self respect if you lie out of hand to other people.

Here is a list of three things that you can do to build your own self-respect.

1. Be honest (don’t lie)
2. Don’t take things that don’t belong to you (don’t steal)
3. Don’t cheat on you spouse  (commit adultery)

You know what, this is starting to sound like the list of those ten suggestions!  Go figure!!

I guess in the long run it’s like the golden rule with a small modification.  You just need to respect others the way that you would want to be respected.  That isn’t all that hard to do.  And you don’t have to know them to respect them.

Start today for a more respectful tomorrow.  Start by showing respect to our veterans.  Help them any way you can.  In that light, just a reminder that the 50% of the royalties I get are going to help my fellow veterans.

Until next time, keep your powder dry and a smile on your face.  And if you can email me what “Keep your powder dry” means I will reply back with a copy of “A Rare Encounter” for you to read.
 Thank you for your time!!
My Website: http://tagewright.blogspot.com/Download My Novel "Operation Armageddon" 
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Imagination

          It’s midnight; do you know where your imagination is?

          I am nearly sixty-four years old.  That means that I get a senior discount in a whole bunch of places and I get the buy one get one free at the casino buffet on Mondays.  It also means that I can remember a childhood where imagination was what you needed to have to have fun.  What has happened to that wonderful concept?  Where did it go?

          I remember sitting in my bedroom reading a book.  Who does that today?  There are still a few, I suppose, but I am sure that it is a very few.  After all, reading takes imagination.  You see the story in your head.  There are no actors, no special effects, only you, the words in the book and your imagination, a daunting task for some of the youth of today not to mention a whole bunch of adults.

          Yes, I remember sitting there with a reading lamp being the only light turned on in my bedroom.  Can you even buy a reading lamp anymore?  Would they know what you were asking for if you did go to buy one?

          Well, anyway, I was reading the book “When Worlds Collide”.  Philip Wylie and Edwin Balmer wrote it in 1933.  It was a great science fiction story about the world coming to an end.  You can probably still find it in the library. Check it out. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/When_Worlds_Collide)

          My imagination was in overdrive on that one.  I recall quite vividly thinking that getting my homework done didn’t matter much because the world was about to come an end.  Then I remembered that it was just a story.  I was torn between the joy of realizing that the world wasn’t about to end and the sad realization that I had to finish my homework.  I hated homework.

          Imagination was in the drivers seat for just about everyone back then.  Today there is a distinct lack of imagination required for most of us.  I’m beginning to think that the advent of the color TV might have been the start of the decline.  It went down hill from the point where you could tell the color of Hoss Cartwright’s vest.  It was brown by the way.  If you already knew the color of his vest or who he was for that matter, you are as old as I am, or you have Netflix.

 
          Back then, the love scenes were a fade out and you imagined what happened next.  Not now, no imagination is required.  I’m sorry, but I don’t think that was an improvement.  It has also made it impossible for some of us to watch most PG-13 movies with our teenage grandchildren.  If you know the guys or gals that came up with what a thirteen year old is supposed to watch send me his or her address.  I want to give him or her or both for that matter a piece of my mind.

          Take movies today, there may be a shortage of imagination in that department as well.  If it isn’t a remake of an old movie it’s a film version of a comic book.  I think I am becoming cynical, and I don’t even know what that word means.

          I write fiction because it’s my imagination that keeps me going, and besides, real life to scary.  I have always had a problem reading about real life brutality.  It’s the same with movies.  I have never been able to watch “Schindler’s List”. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schindler's_List)  I started to once and I stopped a short way into the film, my apologies to the people who produced it.

          Without imagination there would be no airplanes or cars or a whole bunch of things that make our lives better.  We need to foster it in our children and in my case, grandchildren.  I’m not saying that we should ban all those things that leave out or stifle our imagination.  However we do need to limit them.

          I have told my readers before that I play video games on line.  I have a PS-3 and at present play a game called Call of Duty Black Ops.  It doesn’t require much imagination to play the game.  It’s ironic that some of the things like this video game that require no imagination to play required a great deal of imagination to create.  I guess there was some kind of trade off in there somewhere.

         Do you want to create imagination in your kids?  Read to them when they are small.  If they are older locate some games you can play as a family that require imagination to play and I am not talking about video games.

          Have dinner as a family and tell stories while you are enjoying the food.  Don’t be afraid to talk with your mouth full (although I would caution against laughing with a mouth full of mashed potatoes). 

           Life is full of adventure when you have the imagination to see it.  You are never too young or too old to start on the path to a better and more fulfilling imagination.  You can start today by picking up a book (preferably fiction) and start on page one.  By chapter two you will be off and running.

          I’ve got an idea, you can purchase a copy of my novel “Operation Armageddon” and …  Sorry I couldn’t resist putting in the plug for my novel.

          Anyway, start today and help build a better and more imaginative tomorrow.  Until next time, remember to let your family know that you love them and don’t forget to feed the dog.  If you don’t have a dog, feed the neighbors dog.

Turtle Envy

 
          I think that I am suffering from turtle envy.  Perhaps there are (or were as the case may be) times in your life that you have had the same affliction.  Before I get into the particulars of this not so rare condition, I would like to say a few things about our hard-shelled four-footed friends.
          He may move slowly but as that rascally rabbit can attest, he always wins the race.  On top of everything else he brings along his own little fort that he can retreat into at will.  They may look like rocks with arms and legs but they can swim like a fish, well sort of.  And there isn’t just one version.  There are a bunch of different kinds, and some of them live a really long time.
          There was this one Indian Ocean Giant Tortoise that was captured as an adult.  They figured he (I guess it was a he) was about fifty years old.  I have no idea how they could figure that out.  Anyway he/she/it lived another one hundred and fifty two years in captivity.  Now that’s a senior citizen.
          They have been plodding along at their slow but steady pace for about 200 million years.  Did you ever wonder how they figure that stuff out?  Heck, I have trouble figuring out the expiration date on a can of soup.  I want to meet the guy that figured out when the first turtle showed up.  He could answer the age old question, “what came first, the turtle or the egg”.
          Where was I?  Oh yeah, turtle envy….
          Wouldn’t it be nice if when life attacks you from all sides you could just pull your arms and legs and head (if you have one left that hasn’t exploded) inside a nice hard shell and wait it out?  Yeah, that would be great.
          I really envy the turtle.  There must have been some point in time when the critters trying to eat those turtles were successful.  I know that because God made a couple of modifications to the design.  He came up with the Box Turtle.  I really envy that one.  He not only can hide in his shell he has a front door and a back door that he shuts behind himself.
          I guess if you think about it lots of people act like turtles.  They may not have a hard shell to crawl into but they find other ways to “hide out”.  Booze is one way lots of folks hide out.  If you drink enough you forget your troubles for a while.  Not a very long while, but for a little while.  The trouble with that “hide out” is that when you climb back out the situation has probably gotten worse on account of the booze.
          Physical pain is another reason we might want to hide out.  As far as I can tell the only physical pain that brings us joy is the pain of childbirth.  Not that I know much about that.  Even so lots of moms would like to find a less painful way to bring a brand new person into the world.
          Back when our first child was born, before they let the dads into the room while the new arrival was showing up, I sat in the father’s waiting room, well, I was waiting.  I could hear my wife and knew by the sound of it she wasn’t having much fun.  I wasn’t the one in pain but hearing the woman you love in pain makes you want to hide out until it is all over.
          Emotional pain can be even worse than physical pain.  With physical pain you may be able to pull back into your shell by “taking a pill” and away goes the pain.  I remember when I had surgery (twice) and they had me hooked up to some kind of deal where all I needed to do when I was in pain was to push a button and in went a shot of morphine and bingo the pain went away.
          Human beings are very adept at figuring out ways to avoid the things that hurt them.  That is if they plan that far ahead.  A good part of the time we can’t avoid troubles or pain.  That’s when we envy the turtle the most.  Only there is a problem because the turtle only seems to be able to hide out.  I know this from first hand experience.
          Yesterday I was driving along and I saw a turtle all tucked away in his shell.  He was in the road about four feet from the side.  The passing cars had frightened him so he was doing what came natural to him, he was hiding in his shell.
          I had seen this before a long time ago.  A turtle’s shell might be pretty strong but it’s not strong enough to support the weight of a car.  He, at least at the time I thought it was a he, wasn’t aware of how much in danger he was in sitting there in the road.
          I turned around and parked my car in the traffic lane and got out.  I picked up the little guy and put him on the side of the road that he was pointed towards.  I was really happy that it worked out because the last time I tried this the results were a disaster.  I’ll explain that a little later.
          I told my dad about it while I was completing the rescue.  I had called him on my cell phone.  So the news of my heroic effort was reported to my 90 year old dad 1400 miles away in Florida.  That’s when I learned that the turtle was probably a girl.  He told me that this was the time of year that they crawled out and dug holes to lay their eggs.
          How many times in your life have you been half way to your destination when something has forced you back into your shell making you immobile?  How many times have you been sidetracked or stopped completely by circumstances or events (or people for that matter) that you didn’t anticipate?
          It was at that moment that I had a revelation.  I realized something that I should have figured out a very long time ago, but I hadn’t.  I realized that my envy for that hard shelled reptile was sadly misplaced.
          Hear me out, don’t envy the turtle.  His best defense is to hide within his shell.  If the rabbit only knew that little fact he would have always won the race.  All he needed to do was scare the turtle and the race would have been won.
          On top of all that no shell, for the turtle or for us, is strong enough to provide complete protection.  The things or people in this world that want to crush us, or our dreams, won’t be fooled by our hiding out in our self made shell.  To make things worse, we make an easy target when we sit there all curled up inside of ourselves.
          I’m not going to envy the turtle any longer.  No, not me, I’m going to envy my neighbor’s cat instead.  Why?  I’ll tell you why.  We have really big black Labrador named Betty (she weigh in at about 100 pounds) and she likes to chase cats.  Well, most cats.
          I watched her one day when she attempted to chase my neighbors cat.  She started barking and charged at the cat ready for a fun chase.  What happened next surprised both myself and Betty.  That cat turned hissed and ran at Betty.  The sight of a one hundred pound black lab being chased by a cat the size of the dog’s head was just too much.
          Yeah, I’m getting a case of neighbor’s cat envy.  The next time troubles come looking for me I’m going to turn the tables on what ever it is.  You need to do the same.  When life attacks you attack it back.
          Remember that old saying about when life gives you lemons you are supposed to make lemonade?  The heck with that!!  When life gives me lemons I’m going to pick them up and toss them back where they came from and go find me some oranges!!!
          I almost forgot, about that first turtle that I tried to save.  I pulled over to the side of the road figuring I’d get out and help him across the road.  Well, the car behind me pulled around my car and ran smack over that turtle.  That’s when I should have realized that turtle envy is not where it’s at.
Until next time, keep smiling.  And if you giggle just a little once and a while you will confuse everyone around you and that can be a good thing.

          Please remember that I am donating 50% of the royalties from the sale of my novel "Operation Armageddon" to Soldier On. 

Thank you for your time.

Measure Twice, Cut Once

          Have you ever heard that expression?  It applies to a whole lot more than cutting a piece of wood.  It is a behavior that can be applied to most of the things you do in your life.  I’ll give you a personal example.  In my last blog “Common Sense” I quoted the cost of minting a penny.  I only measured once and then I cut the board.  Big mistake.
          One of my friends, who read my blog, sent me an email telling me that he used his common sense and checked out my figures on the web site I provided the link for.  Guess what he discovered, I had made an error.  A penny will cost 2.41 cents to make this year not $2.41.  Boy was I way off.  Speed-reading just doesn’t do it some of the time.
          I’m contemplating sending him a response telling him that it was a test to see just who would bother to check my facts. Or I could tell him that I am planning on using it on my application to apply for a job at MSNBC.  I heard that they don’t check their facts very well either.  Either way it was an error.  I apologize for the error.  It plays havoc with my theory of how to save money.  My plan would only save about 20 million using the correct figures.  Chicken feed.  Maybe I could get a job in the government.
          Back to measure twice.  It’s really a simple thing to do.  You make your measurement and check it once more before you cut the wood.  In theory you can catch your error before you ruin the piece of wood.  The only real problem is that most people will make the same mistake more than once.
And then there are other things you need to look out for.  There is the one-inch error.  That is when you get the fraction on the wrong side of the inch mark.  That results in your piece being exactly one inch short.  The simple fact is that sometimes we see something that isn’t what we are seeing.  Confused?  Don't worry, It gets better.
          I spent about thirty years running a home improvement business part time.  It was my second job.  I discovered I liked doing that kind of work back when I built my house.  Up until then the only thing that I had ever nailed together was a little cabinet that was used to hold my Atari game system.  Anybody remember those things?
          I read a book somewhere that said that if people knew how easy it was to build a house all the contractors would be out of business.  Yeah, right.  It wasn’t easy but it was fun.  It was on the job training.
          I had an old fellow helping me with the framing.  Actually, he was showing me how to do it.  His name was Rubin Mason.  He was in his seventies and had a wealth of knowledge to draw from.  I can still see him walking backwards on top of the 2X4 wall like some kind of circus performer.  We were putting up the roofing trusses.  On my best day I couldn’t do that.  If anyone knew the rule about measuring twice it was Rubin Mason.  In fact he didn’t even like using two different tape measures on the job.  He insisted that they produced different results.  He might have been right about that.
One of his boys was working with him.  He was about 15 at the time.  His name was (and still is) Will Mason.  As young as he was back then he knew all about measuring twice and cutting once.
          As I said in the beginning of this piece, measuring twice and cutting once is something that applies to many aspects of our lives.  Measuring the things we are about to do twice before we do them could save us some heartache.
          Talking about measuring, here is another one for you that you might have heard.  It is to “Take the measure of a man.”  It means a lot more than the size of his suit.  It’s something all you gals should try to do before you say yes to that first date, and frankly if he doesn’t measure up both times (measure twice girls) do the cutting thing.
          There are an awful lot of people that will tell you not to judge others.  You know, judge not lest you be judged.  I’m here to tell you that if you want a life relatively free of avoidable problems you had better learn to “take the measure” of those you associate with. That, in a word, is “judgment.”
There is a difference in judging others in the biblical sense and judging others in order to avoid some real pitfalls in life.  My mother used to tell me that if I hung around with the wrong crowd I’d get in trouble.  That’s where measuring twice came in.

           There are many things in life that just happen without warning and are simply unavoidable.  However, there are a larger number of things that happen to us because of decisions we have made.   Those are the places we need to measure twice.  We need to do our research and make the right choices.  There are pitfalls in making judgments about the people around us.  We need to look out for those.  On that particular note there is an interesting video about judging others you might be interested in watching.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dbFiB7oiQs4&list=PL4E784EC0770935C0&index=2&feature=plpp_video
          I know a young woman that spent some time taking the measure of someone she thought she was going to marry.  She had been going with this young man for many years before she actually thought about how he measured up to what she wanted in a husband.  It was a very hard thing to do but when she saw that there were important things missing in the relationship she walked away.
          When she finally settled on the man that “measured up” it set the course of her life on a different path.  After several years of marriage and a few kids later she says with complete honesty that there is nothing about her husband that she doesn’t like.  She chose wisely.
          How many of us can say the same?  If you are still breathing it isn’t too late to learn how to measure twice before you cut the path for the rest of your life.
          So here is what we do.  We choose wisely.  How do we do that?  That part is more difficult.  If I were an expert it would be easy for me to answer that question.  But you see at nearly 64 I am still learning myself.  I do know this, however, we need to surround ourselves with the things that lift us up, not those things (or people for that matter) that bring us down.
          Be choosy in who you pick for your friends.  Take their measure at least twice before you decide on whom they will be.  Develop a set of basic core values and stand by them.
          If you are looking for a spouse look in the right places.  When I was in the Navy I spent a lot of time in bars all around the world.  I know from experience that quality marriage material does not regularly populate those places.
          Here is the hardest thing of all: You must always try to do the right thing.  Just knowing what is right is not enough.  You have to choose the right and do it.  Measure twice my friend and cut just once.
          That's it for now.  Keep that tape measure in your hand and don't be afraid to use it!  Hug your wife and kiss your kids before you go to bed and don't forget to pet the dog.

Common Sense

I looked it up on Wikipedia and came up with this:
          Common sense is defined by Merriam-Webster as, "sound and prudent judgment based on a simple perception of the situation or facts."^[1]Thus, "common sense" (in this view) equates to the knowledge and experience which most people already have, or which the person using the term believes that they do or should have. The Cambridge Dictionary defines it as, "the basic level of practical knowledge and judgment that we all need to help us live in a reasonable and safe way".^[2]
          My dad called it horse sense.  I like to call it not being stupid.  After all, calling it common sense doesn’t seem very accurate because it isn’t all that common.  In fact it seems to be down right scarce.  Just look around.
          Last week I went to the Navy Credit Union to cash a check.  There is a sign on the window with a picture of a gun with one of those red circles around it with the red slash and the words “No firearms allowed on this property” printed underneath (no joke, see the attached photo).  I wonder whose idea that was?  I’m sure that at least a dozen would-be bank robbers saw that sign and went to rob some other bank instead.  You know, one that allowed them to bring their gun inside.

          Here is another one for you.  Did you know that the cost of making a penny is projected to surpass $2.41 for each penny made this year?  In 2011, the US minted about 4.9 billion of the little rascals.  The government could save about 11 billion dollars by just not making any this year.    Honest, just check it out for your self:  http://www.snopes.com/business/money/pennycost.asp  I think good old horse sense could fit in here somewhere.
          On two occasions I served as a chaperone for my granddaughter’s school trip to the Boston Museum of Science.  While there, I sat and listened to a young fellow (the same guy on both occasions) talk about our putting 10% ethanol in our gasoline in an effort to save on the use of fossil based fuel and there by making less pollution.
          Really?  Not so fast.  Common sense really took a hike on this one.  We are putting  10% ethanol in gasoline, which is less efficient (translation; lower miles per gallon so you burn more than with just straight gasoline) and creating that gallon of ethanol takes 1.3 gallons of fossil based fuel to complete the process.  Basically, you have burned more fossil fuel trying to avoid burning fossil fuel than you would have if you hadn’t tried to not burn fossil based fuel in the first place.  What the heck did I just say?
          It just boils down to this: The individuals who came up with the idea in the first place lacked good old common sense and their good intentions were turned upside down by facts they basically ignored.  There are a whole host of other problems that using corn-based ethanol has caused that I won’t go into.  None of them were good for our economy or us.
          A fairly long time ago, someone with some common sense figured out that a whole bunch of gas was being burned while people waited for the stop light to change when all they wanted to do was turn right.  As I said, someone with common sense had a great idea.  So out came the new traffic law.  You could now turn right after stopping at red lights unless otherwise posted.
          Now comes the guy without common sense.  Suddenly, at nearly every stoplight in the state, a new sign appeared.  It read “no turn on red”.  Whoever had the contract for the signs made a few bucks on that one.  After awhile the signs came down with a few exceptions.  The guy with the common sense must have chased the one without it out of the office.
          It’s bad enough to be common senseless without purposely telling everyone about it as in the case of the good old bumper sticker.  I love the one that reads, “War is not the answer.”  Those individuals evidently have never heard of the Civil War or the Revolutionary War or World War One or World War Two, or…. heck I could go on forever listing wars that were the only answer.
          Don’t get me wrong.  I don’t hold anything against anyone being commonsenseless (I think I accidentally created a new word).  I get that way myself every once and awhile.  And sometimes it can be down right amusing.  Like the time my brother and I decided to build a dune buggy.
          When my dad left for work that particular morning he walked right past my red, 1959 Volkswagen Karmann Ghia.  Little did he know what would be there when he got home.

          You might not be familiar with the Karmann Ghia.  It used to be called the poor man's Porsche.  Check out this commercial, if it doesn’t make you laugh check your pulse.  You might be dead.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EiBNtGSzrp4

          My brother and I were armed with some basic facts.  We knew that to build a dune buggy you need some kind of Volkswagen.  We had that covered.  We had the Ghia.  We also knew that a dune buggy had a shorter wheelbase (shorter distance from the front axle to the rear axle) than my Ghia.  We had that covered too.  We had a hacksaw.  The one thing that we lacked was the common sense to realize that we had no idea how to put the two halves of the car back together again once we cut it in two.  When my dad got home that evening my 1959 Ghia was in the garage in three pieces (we cut the top off because after all dune buggies are convertibles).  He was not impressed.
          On an interesting note later, while I was in the Navy, my dad built his own dune buggy from start to finish all by himself.  He used the engine from my Ghia so it didn’t go to waste.  Not bad for a guy who only got to the eighth grade.  He might have been short on formal education but he was long on horse sense and even at 90, he is one cool dad!

          Unfortunately, there are too many times when people with power show a lack of common sense in what they do and it hurts someone else.  I haven’t been able to confirm this next story, but I have no doubt that it occurred.  I heard about it a very long time ago.
          Somewhere out west there is an area where wild fires are common.  To protect the homes (rather expensive ones I might add) they made firebreaks.  The firebreaks were made by disking the fields around the homes.  This insured that the fires would not burn down the houses.  It was extremely effective.
          Along came a commonsenseless group of people that discovered there was an endangered critter in the fields around the homes.  I believe it was some kind of mouse.  You can guess what happened next.  Disking was prohibited forthwith.  After all, you might kill the endangered critter and then the owls that prowled the night sky would be denied their midnight snack.
          The result would be obvious to someone who wasn’t commonsenseless.  The fires came along and burned down the houses.  I might add that they roasted the endangered critter as well.  Go figure.
So what do we do?  How do we fix the epidemic (I love that word) of commonsenselessness?  Hey, another new word!  I’ll have to contact Wikipedia and let them know.  Maybe you have a few suggestions to correct the problem.  If you do please share them with me!!
          I went to bed last night thinking about what to do.  The only thing I could come up with is how I learned whatever common sense I have.  I didn’t learn it in school.  I learned it from my mother and father.  Perhaps that is the solution, perhaps if we as fathers and mothers took the time to teach our kids some basic common sense they would, in turn, pass it on.
          For this to work, we have to keep our families together because the biggest example of no common sense is what we have been doing to the family.  I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again- if you fail in the home, no other success will make up for it.  The family is the key to a whole lot of issues.  If you don’t believe me read this article.
          Just one other thing we might do.  The next time we see something that displays commonsenselessness we should say something.  Even if it is just “that doesn’t make any sense”.    Kind of like the home version of homeland security  :)
          So, until next time keep smiling and give your kids a kiss even if they are 40 years old.

          Hey, wait a minute!!  I just figured how the government could save about 9.9 billion dollars this year!!!  If they paid everyone who turned in their pennies two cents for each penny they turn in (I just know that there must be billions of the little fellas hiding out in piggy banks all across America) the flood of turned in pennies would make minting them this year unnecessary.  For the paltry sum of just under one hundred million dollars (and half of that they get back because they now have your penny) they would eliminate the ten billion they would have spent to make them!!!

          Nah, they wouldn’t do that because nowhere in the United States is commonsenselessness more prevalent than in government.  Bye for now.




          Oh, I nearly forgot.  If you purchase a copy of my novel “Operation Armageddon” in kindle or nook format I will send you a copy of my play “A Rare Encounter” free of charge.  Remember 50% of the royalties will be donated to help our veterans.

What's in your orange?

What’s in your orange?

          About 25 or 30 years ago a good friend, Nellie Vernott, gave me a couple of tapes from a guy by the name of Wayne Dyer (http://www.drwaynedyer.com/).  He was someone I had never heard of before she gave me those tapes.  I suggest you click on the link and give a listen to some of the things he has to say.  Like fine wine he has gotten better with age.
          Anyway, that was a long time ago and I don’t really remember much from those tapes.  Well, except for this one thing that has stuck with me for all these years.  What was in my orange?  I’ve used this story on more than one occasion because the point Doctor Dyer made can help us understand an awful lot about ourselves.  It sort of went like this….
          If you pick up an orange and squeeze it what happens?  The answer to this question is obvious to anyone who likes fresh squeezed orange juice.  Out comes orange juice.  That was easy.  It’s the next question that had me wondering if Doctor Dyer had all of his ducks in a row.
          “Why?”
         I thought, well, gee, that’s because it is an orange and that is what’s in it.  How dumb a question was that?  If this was a motivational talk I was losing the point.  It sounded more like an advertisement for Tropicana orange juice.
          While you are figuring that one out here are a couple of other things that I’ve noticed.  There seems to be an epidemic of bad behavior in the world today.  It’s like pollen in the spring; it’s everywhere!  I’m not sure but I think that it has something to do with that orange.
          I play video games on line.  It’s my son in law's fault.  He gave me a PS3 several years back.  I mostly play the war games.  Call of Duty Black Ops is one of them.  In this game you and your teammates play against another team.  I play hardcore.  I have a three to one kill ratio in that game (no brag, just fact).  That means I die once for every three of the enemy that I kill.  Not bad for a 63 year old gamer.  In that game mode you can kill your own teammates either by accident, or if you are a jerk, on purpose.  There are an awful lot of jerks out there.  I’m pretty sure that this has something to do with that orange.
          People are stealing the pipes out of houses to sell them for scrap.  They are stealing ornaments from graveyards and selling them for scrap too.  Once when I stopped at the 7-11 near the Casino someone stole a toolbox from my truck.  If that wasn’t bad enough they stole my lunch box too!  I liked that lunch box.  I think that there was an orange in it.
          Just the other day the Secret Service guys were kicked out of some country for arguing with a hooker over her fee.  Some other gal was on the news because she thought someone other than herself should pay for her contraceptives for her recreational sex while in college.  What was that about?  I remember what my mother had to say about girls who had recreational sex.  It wasn’t complimentary.  This most certainly involves that orange.
          If you think about it, oranges are really useful.  They provide vitamin C and other good things like fiber (when you get over 60 that somehow becomes important) and on top of all that they taste good too.  I just peeled one a little while ago and ate it.  While I was taking the peel off I remembered something from back when I was in the Navy.  With a little effort you can fix it so that when you squeeze the orange something else comes out other than just the orange juice.  You can fix it so that a screwdriver comes out.
          You might know where I am going with this.  All you need is a really large hypodermic needle, a shot of vodka and the orange.  You inject the vodka into the orange and shizzam, you have a screw driver (vodka and orange juice) disguised as a harmless orange.  Eat a half a dozen of those and you will need a designated driver to get home.
          So, by now we have figured out that what comes out of the orange may not be just orange juice.  If you put something else in there, when it gets squeezed something else will come out.  We are all kind of like that orange.  We may look like an orange on the outside but what have we been putting in our orange?  What have we been putting inside ourselves?
          What kind of music do we listen to?  What kind of movies do we watch?  What kind of company do we keep?  Do we have a moral compass at work in side of us?  Do we even know what that is?  Do we have character?  Do we have integrity?  Are we the same person when no one is watching us?
          Just this evening Fred, a friend of mine, said that he teaches his children that character is doing the right thing even when no one is watching.  He is putting something good inside the two little oranges that he is raising.  How about you?
          Almost anyone is a good enough actor to put up a good appearance for those people around them, but very few of us are good enough actors to maintain that orange like exterior when the pressures of life squeeze us.  Whenever that happens, what ever we have been stuffing in our orange comes squirting out.
          I’m convinced that those guys or gals killing their teammates in that Call of Duty game have got something in their orange that shouldn’t be there.  After all, the old saying it’s not whether you win or lose that counts, it’s how you play the game is a statement on character.  If you figure that most of those people are young adults and kids, I’m wondering just who has been filling their oranges?
          So what do we do?  What do we do if for years and years we have been injecting our own orange with stuff that we know shouldn’t be in there.  Do we just say that’s the way I am too bad for the other guy.  It’s like the bumper sticker I saw yesterday that read, “my attitude, your problem.” The confusing part was that right next to it was one that read “mean people suck.”  I’m not sure that I want to know that person.  It was bad enough that I had to chase that car to three stoplights to read both of those bumper stickers.  That isn’t easy in my 1984 Ford F-150 pickup truck.
          Several years ago another friend of mine, George, was giving a talk at church.  He said something that at the time I thought was pretty stupid.  He said, “If nothing changes, nothing changes”.  Well, I was the one that was stupid because he was exactly right.  If you don’t make some kind of a change nothing will change.
          There is a basic law of physics at work here.  Two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time.  What we need to do is put enough orange juice back in our orange to force the other stuff out.  If we work at it we can empty all the bad behavior from our orange.  It may not be easy or it may not happen quickly, but you can do it.
          Pay attention to what you are surrounding your self with.  If you listen to music, listen to good up lifting music.  If you use foul language, stop using it.  Many years ago I was working on a car with a friend of mine, he banged his knuckles and yelled out “rutabaga”.  He then told me that he was trying to stop his cussing.  It worked for him.
          The problem for most of us is identifying our own bad behavior.  Once we do that we can change it.  Knowing what to change is the key.  I remember the story I heard about a supervisor who had a lot of bad stuff in his orange.  He worked at a plant that I myself worked at for nearly twenty years.  He had some kind of a seizure.  He couldn’t speak or move but he could hear.  When he collapsed one of the two people with him asked, “What should we do?” the other guy answered, “Let the SOB die”.
          Allowing for the guy who said “let the sob die” having his own issues, the supervisor suddenly realized that the people that worked for him actually hated him.  It could have gone either way but in his case the revelation changed his life for the better.  He fixed his orange.
If you are still alive you can fix your orange.  Then when someone asks you what’s in your orange you can proudly say, “Orange Juice.”
          And if you have a bag of little oranges running around your house you can get right to work filling them with good things.  One piece of advice, keep away from the vodka.
          Until next time, remember to kiss your kids and tell your spouse that you love them and when you bang your hand remember to yell rutabaga.
          I would like to remind you to visit my blogspot and purchase a copy of “Operation Armageddon” so that I can give just a little more to help our veterans.  After all, if it weren’t for them we wouldn’t have any oranges.
          Just a note, I’ve added a sample reading of my novel to the website.  Please enjoy.  If you purchase a copy of my novel in Kindle or Nook format I will send you a copy of the play “A Rare Encounter” in a pdf file free of charge.

Somebody email me and tell me how to spell shizzam!!!

Dreams

     Do you remember your dreams?  I don’t mean the dreams you have when you’re asleep; I mean the ones you have when you are awake.  The ones you think about when you’re not on life’s merry go round.  Do you remember those dreams?
     When we are kids we dream all the time.  Back when I was in first grade in that little two-room schoolhouse in Center Groton I would dream about what I wanted to be when I got big.  I drew pictures of airplanes on the back of my schoolwork because I wanted to be a pilot.
     I always remembered wanting to fly planes but I had forgotten about drawing the pictures until about twenty years later when my motorcycle broke down on North Road.  There weren’t any cell phones back then so I went to the nearest house and knocked on the door.
     To my surprise one of my teachers from that little schoolhouse came to the door.  She let me use her phone to call for help and we sat and talked for a while.  She said she always remembered how I drew pictures on the back of my schoolwork.
     I was glad she didn’t remember me from the time I jumped out the cloak room window and wound up staying after school with my head down on the desk.  They knew how to teach you a lesson back then.  Absolutely nothing matched being put in the older kids’ classroom with your head down on the desk.

     When I think of dreams I think of the song “Dreams Go By” written and performed by Harry Chapin (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znsyWUDnDlY&noredirect=1).  I don’t know if you know who he was, but if you don’t you have missed some great music.  That song puts what happens to most of our dreams in perspective.  It begins like this….

There you stand in your dungarees
Looking so grown up and so very pleased
When you write your poems they have so much to say
When you speak your dreams it takes my breath away

You know I want to be a ball player
A regular slugging fool
But I guess our dreams must wait awhile
Until we finish school

     Isn’t that how our dreams seem to go?  There is usually something else that takes their spot.   Well, I guess if you think about it, when some one calls you a daydreamer, or even just a dreamer it isn’t usually a compliment.  In some ways being “practical” means ignoring our dreams.  And guess what happens…

And so you and I
We watch our years go by
We watch our sweet dreams fly
Far away, but maybe someday

     Yep, maybe someday, I’ve heard that tune more than once in my life.  In fact I’ve been guilty of singing it once or twice or, never mind how many times.  How about you?  Do you have a dream you keep hidden away for just the right time?  It just lies there waiting for the right time to jump up and say; “Hello it’s me, your dream come and get me!!”

I don’t know when
But we will dream again
And we’ll be happy then
Till our time just drifts away

     Once you let your dream slip away another might just sneak up on you.  It’s not over yet!!  Hey, you get older your likes and dislikes change.  You develop a new talent and bingo you have another dream.  I let my dream of flying through the air slip away.  In High School I learned you could fly along on the ground!  I got my license to drive!!!
     That’s when my love affair with the motorcar began.  I really liked sports cars and I owned several back then.  It started back in High School when I bought a 1963 TR-4.  I loved that car.  It had a little four-cylinder motor that pushed the car to 107 miles per hour.  That’s when I began to dream about racing.  Yep, another dream came along and replaced the old one!
     Has that happened to you?  Sure it has.  What did you do?  I’ll tell you what I did, I put my dream on hold while I visited my Uncle Sam and helped him out in a place called Viet Nam.  When I got back from that, another little thing came up that, well, sort of canceled the racecar thing.

There you stand in your wedding dress
You’re so beautiful that I must confess
I’m so proud you have chosen me
When a doctor is what you want to be

You know I want to be a painter, girl
A real artistic snob
But I guess we’ll have our children first
You’ll find a home I’ll get a job

     You guessed it I got married.  You’ve probably have the gist of the whole dream deal by now.  Dreams are what make us human.  I doubt that a Poodle dreams of being Saint Bernard (although I knew a Poodle who thought he was a Doberman).  I certainly doubt that a horse dreams of being the winner at Belmont.  And I really don’t believe that Charlie the Tuna dreamt of ending up in a can of StarKist.

     Listen it’s our dreams that make us special.  It’s when we pursue our dreams that we are building the world we want to live in.  When someone calls you a dreamer thank that individual for the compliment, because whether they mean it in that way or not, it is the highest compliment you can get.

Fight for your dreams!!!  They are worth it!!

     Are you willing to chase after your dream?  It can be a hard battle.  Then even when you have obtained that dream the struggle may not be over.  Sometimes when you think you have a dream firmly in your grasp someone comes along and tries to rip it away.  And sometimes they win….
     Take the case of Susette Kelo.  I know about her dream because of a book.  Hey, I write books.  But I write fiction.  I make them up from start to finish.  The people in my books have the dreams that I gave them.  At least that’s how I think it works.  Sometimes I wonder….
     Enough of that, back to Susette, you will find her story in a book called “Little Pink House” by Jeff Benedict, someone I’ve known since he was a teenager.  Jeff has skills.

     Under the title on the cover of the book is the subtitle “A True Story of Defiance and Courage”.  In addition to that this story is about the willingness for someone to fight against seemingly insurmountable odds to keep her dream, that “Little Pink House”.
     If you have ever had a dream that you gave up because the fight got the best of you, you need to read this book.  I know that it makes my dream battles seem rather small and makes me think I gave up too soon on more than one occasion.  Please visit Jeff’s website, JeffBenedict.com and learn more about what it means to fight for a dream.
     If you don’t seek after your dreams you will be singing right along with good old Harry Chapin…..

There you stand in your tailored suit
So many years gone by but you’re still so cute
You take the car to go and meet the bus
When our grandchildren come to visit us

You say you should have been a ballerina, babe
There are songs I should have sung
But I guess our dreams have come and gone
You’ve gotta dream when you are young

     If you have a dream that you can wrap yourself around, go get it.  Just one word of advice though, if your dream is to get a job as a Ninja (like my son’s when he was 10) it might be a hard sale.
Until next time, keep dreaming and if you are married to a dreamer fasten your seat belt because you are in for the ride of your life!!!

     Just a reminder before you go, I am donating 50% of the royalties from my novel “Operation Armageddon” go to Veterans help organizations because it’s those guys who protect our right to catch our dreams.  Please visit me at http://tagewright.blogspot.com/ right after you go see Jeff at http://www.jeffbenedict.com/

Happy dreams to you until we meet again!!!!!!! 

Planning Ahead

          My Brother and I

          Don’t life’s trials just seem to sneak up on you sometimes?  If we could see into the future it would make planning ahead so much easier.
          When my brother was a little guy he was pretty good at planning ahead.
I remember this one time when he committed a spanking offense. That was back when you could get a spanking without the cops coming and taking dad away to jail. I don’t remember what he did but he knew well in advance that he was going to get it.  He planned ahead.
          Our father came in and put him over his knee and gave him the spanking.  Charlie cried and generally made a good show of it.  My father put him back on his feet and left the room.   As soon as he was out of ear shot my brother wiped away the crocodile tears and started to laugh.  I was confused ,to say the least.
           My father always said that giving us a spanking hurt him more than it did us.  In this case he was literally correct.  My brother had really planned ahead this time.  He had put some comic books in his pants to shield his butt.  It worked like a charm.
          To this day I can’t explain my father not knowing the comic books were there.  I suspect that he went into the living room and told my mother about Chuck and his armored butt.  They probably laughed even harder than my brother did.
          If we only knew when it was time to stuff the comic books in our pants a lot of life’s difficulties could be avoided or maybe softened just a little.  Unfortunately that isn’t the way it is a most of the time.  Most of the time, they occur without much warning.

 Chuck in France trying to remember where he put the comic books.

          Quite a while back my wife began filling empty bottles with water and storing them all over the place.  I complained more than once about the water filled bottles.  They took up space.  They got in the way of the stuff I wanted to store.  Besides I couldn’t picture myself drinking water from any of them.  Who knew how long the bottle was sitting there building up unseen critters that would turn into something nasty inside of you.
          But like my own mother, the mother of our children, my wife is generally right about a lot of things.  She was right about the water.  When a hurricane came through and the power went out we had water for something I hadn’t thought of.  We had water to flush the toilets.  So if there were some unseen critters in those bottles they have now been processed by our septic system.
          We eventually got a generator so we can pump water even when the power is out.  But guess what, we still have the water bottles hanging around the house and I am not going to complain.  I wouldn’t want to be wrong two times in a row about the same thing.
          That reminds me about something else I better stop complaining about.  There is a bunch of stuff in the trunk of our car that I have been complaining about.  It’s some food and, get this, water bottles filled with, well, water.  There is some of our old clothes and some other stuff I hesitate to describe in there as well.  It’s called a 72-hour kit.  My wife put it together.  It’s for us if we have to go on the lam.  I complained because it takes up space in the trunk.  I figured you should put it in the garage.  Hey, the trunk is needed for other things like golf clubs and such. Of course I don’t play golf, but I might take it up someday.
          The other day a house in town burned down. I listened to the news report and was glad to hear that the family got out safely.  That’s when I figured something out.  If that happened to us I guess the food and stuff in the garage wouldn’t’ be of much use.  My wife was right again.
          So even if life sneaks up on you there are some things you can prepare for.  Keep some water around even if it is only to flush the toilet.  Have a 72-hour kit stuffed in the trunk of your car. Keep some cash aside you can grab if you have to run for the hills.
         

 My Dad- 90 years old, and still the best father a son could have.

          Before I close this time I’d like to say a little about my dad who just turned 90 in February.  He has always been a great father when we were growing up and even now at 90 years old he is still a great dad.  He lives in Florida and I call him every day and never hang up without telling him I love him.  For you men out there who might just take the time to read this blog.  Start planning ahead so that when you son or daughter talks about you when you’re ninety they will say he is a great dad.
Remember this you guys out there, nothing you do out there in the world will count if you have failed as a father and a husband.  For the two of you, husband and wife if you want your spouse and your children to love you, you need to love them first.
          The best preparation advice I can give is love each other.  Contrary to what Ryan O’Neal said in “Love Story” love doesn’t mean never having to say you’re sorry.  Love is knowing when to say you’re sorry.
          Until next time, keep the comic books stuffed in your pants and the water bottles in the trunk and I almost forgot, keep a smile on your face.  After all, it’s the most attractive thing you can put on and it doesn’t cost a thing.
          To find out about my novel “Operation Armageddon” please visit my web site at Tagewright.blogspot.com for details and remember that 50% of the royalties will be donated to help our veterans.  You may email me at any time at tagewright@aol.com for a free preview of the book.

A Look Between the Pages

I’ve got a story to tell that you just might enjoy.

I’m going to try something different this time.  You may be aware that I am donating 50% of the royalties from my novel “Operation Armageddon” to various Veterans help organizations including Soldier On and The Wounded Warrior Project.  In this segment I would like to present you with a portion of the prolog from “Operation Armageddon” If you enjoy this segment please email me at tagewright@aol.com and I will send you the first two chapters and the prologue for your review.  Here we go………

A look Between the Pages

They came that night.  They were dressed for battle.  Helmets that resembled the one worn by the stone statue protected their heads.  They were wearing loincloths and breastplates of wooden mail. 
They were ancient warriors.  The long dead warriors came only to Elias.  They spoke to him in a language that he had never heard before yet he understood all that they said.  It was as if the strange language were his.

They told him of the city.  They told him of the treasure.  They told him where it lay.  By morning he knew where to look.  His true destiny was taking shape.

Elias kicked at Jacob's prone body.  Jacob woke with a grunt of pain.  Squinting to see in the bright morning light he looked up at Elias.

“What is it?”  He managed.

“Get up.  I need your help.  I've found the city.”

“You've what?”  Jacob was still trying to shake the cobwebs from his sleepy brain.

“Come, I'll show you.”

Following Elias's direction they cut long poles from the jungle and used them to pry a large oblong stone that lie near the corner of the building.  With a great deal of effort they moved the stone.  Under it they found stone stairs that descended into the darkness.

“I'll make some torches,” Jacob said.

“We won't need them.”

“It's dark down there.  We'll need them to see.”

“Come, I'll show you.”

Again Jacob followed Elias.  Again he was right.  Once their eyes adjusted to the light they could see.  The stairs led into an underground world lit by the light that filtered in through the white boulders set like skylights into the stone ceiling.  There was a soft yellow glow as well.  It confused Jacob at first.  Then he realized its source.  It was a reflection from the paved floor beneath their feet.

“My Lord,” Jacob gasped, “the floor is paved in gold!”

Indeed this was true.  The floors were paved with gold bricks.  As near as they could tell the entire clearing was undermined by what appeared to be a small city whose entire floor was paved in gold.
Jacob was unnerved by the way that Elias strolled casually through the chambers.  It was as if he knew exactly where everything was, as if he had been here before.

When they reached what Jacob estimated was the center of the underground city heavy wooden doors barred their way.  Inexplicably Jacob felt the urge to run.  He saw a smile come over Elias's face.  Even in the poor light he saw it clearly enough.  The smile brimmed with evil, frightened him.

“It's in here,” Elias said.

“What's in here?”  Jacob asked.

“The sword, it's in here,” Elias answered.

The chamber was dark.  There were no stones placed in the ceiling to bring in the light.  Instead there were torch holders set in the walls.  Outside the chamber set in racks were torches.  They must have been placed there long ago for those who would enter.

To Jacob's amazement the torches still lit.  After all the years that had passed the ancient torches still burned.  They cast a yellow light into the vast expanse of the chamber, pushing back the darkness only a few feet.

Elias did not hesitate.  He went forward holding his torch high above his head.  Jacob followed him as he marched toward a yet unknown goal.  On either side of the path that they strode Jacob saw what was missing from the rest of the dead city.  He saw the remains of what had once been people.  Not much was left to decorate the floor.  There was enough for him to recognize what they were.  They had found the final resting place of the people who had populated this underworld.

Jacob had no idea how large the chamber actually was.  He was aware that they walked a considerable distance into it before Elias stopped.  They had entered a circle ringed by a gold chain held up by silver stanchions.  In the center of this circle a golden statue stood.  It was a duplicate of the stone effigy they found in the jungle.

It was indeed a warrior with a weapon at the ready.  This statue suffered none of the weather damage of its stone counterpart.  It was complete.  Jacob saw that the projections under the arms were indeed a second set of arms that held an infant close to the warrior's body, protecting it.  The warrior had a breastplate made of wood that covered the massive chest.  The muscular arms that held the sword and shield ended in hands that were certainly not human.  They had only two fingers and a thumb.  The digits had claw like nails.  This figure had a tail that had been missing from the stone statue in the jungle.  Its feet were bare and possessed only two toes with animal like claws.  Jacob could only stare in awe at the grotesque figure.

“What manner of god is this?”  Jacob muttered.  Then his eyes fell upon the crumpled figure that lay at the feet of the statue.  It was impossibly well preserved.  The hooded figure, lie on its back.  The eye sockets that should have been empty hollows held eyes.  They were staring up at the statue.  Flesh remained on the body.  It looked to be only hours old instead of the hundreds of years old that it must be.

Stuck between the ribs of the shrouded remains was a sword.  The hilt was embedded with jewels while the blade was ornately engraved.  The beauty of it was exhilarating.  The blood (on its blade) looked wet in the torchlight.  All this was not possible.  Jacob could not believe his eyes.

Elias knelt reverently by the body.  His manner was that of a mourner at a close friend's funeral.  Jacob felt again the urge to run from where he stood.  His mind and soul screamed a warning to the muscles of his body.  “Run, run”, he heard a voice inside his head shout.  Jacob Campbell the learned man ignored the warning and stood fast; his intellect forcing its will on the rebellion that was taking place in his mind.

Elias put his torch into a holder in front of the statue and took the hilt of the sword in his right hand.  As he did, a blue spark leapt from its hilt to the fingers that grasped it.  Elias spoke in a voice and language that Jacob did not understand.

“What are you saying?  What language is that?” Jacob croaked.

Elias slowly turned to Jacob.  He still held the hilt of the gilded sword as he spoke.  There was a fire deep in his eyes.  It terrified Jacob.

“I'm saying good bye to my brother.”  Elias pulled the sword from the body as he spoke.  He held it aloft as if to salute the statue.  As he did, Jacob looked back at the figure lying on the floor.  It began to disintegrate before his eyes.  It turned literally to dust as he watched.

When it finally ended the process a luminescent mist rose from the remains until it reached the ceiling and then it vanished.  Jacob looked in time to see the sword arcing down toward him.  It was too late to run now.  He felt the blade bite into his neck as it flashed down and across.  Surprisingly there was little pain.  He felt a strange sense of pressure and then the world slowed down.  Jacob tumbled to the floor.  Somehow he had escaped the descending blade.  At least that's what he thought until his eyes focused on the scene above him.  He blinked his eyes in disbelief.  He tried to scream but that of course was impossible.  His last mortal thought was of how silly his body looked standing headless spewing blood from the stump of its neck before the warrior god whose name he now knew.

If you have enjoyed this segment please email me at tagewright@aol.com to continue the story.  You may join me at my web site, tagewright.blogspot.com to learn more.

Until next time keep smiling and try to do one good thing a day.  You will feel better and so will the one you helped.

My Mom Got It Right

    
     Have you ever wondered where good manners have gone?  Does anyone teach that stuff anymore?  When I was a kid my mother taught me to say please and thank you and to be polite to my elders.  Where has that idea gone?  Now I think they give lessons in being rude because there are so many people that are really good at it.
     My mother was generally right about most things.  Not all the time though.  She told us kids that if we didn’t rinse the soap out from under our arms we would get a fever.  She was wrong about that.  I know because I tried that in boot camp so I could go on sick call.  I just got itchy armpits.
     There are some lessons that you just don’t figure out until you are older.  Kind of like the itchy armpit thing.  Other lessons are best understood when we are young before we let all the other adult stuff get in the way.  Take pride for instance.  Babies don’t let pride get in the way when its time to be fed.  Adults allow pride get in the way all the time.  Someone offers help and pride jumps up and says, “I don’t need any help!”

I’d like to tell you a little story about how I learned a lesson……..

The Hitch Hiker
A Lesson in Gratitude
     When I was in the Navy I didn’t have much money.  I didn’t have a car and I never had enough cash for a bus ticket so I hitch hiked.  I hitch hiked all over the place.  I hitch hiked the five hundred miles from Norfolk, Virginia to Groton, Connecticut just about every weekend I could get a 72 hour liberty.
     On this one occasion I was stuck on the road coming out of New York City into Connecticut.  I never liked standing on the side of the road.  You never knew who would stop to pick you up.  I use to go to gas stations and look around at the potential rides and ask the people that looked promising if they would give me a lift.  That way I got to pick the people I asked.  I looked for families and fellow members of the military and out of state plates.
     On this particular day I wound up on the side of the road no where near a gas station.  I had been standing there for quite a while when finally a guy stopped to offer me a ride.  He didn’t look too threatening so I climbed in.  About five minutes into the ride I noticed that he had a gun under his shirt.  That got me a little nervous.
      Skillfully (I thought) I began working into the conversation that I was broke.  It was true, I was broke I had a whole $2.50 on me.  I was thinking that if he intended to rob me he would figure it was a waste of time.  That was my usual strategy for robbery avoidance.  I had used it on more than one occasion and since, up to that point, I hadn’t been robbed I figured it worked.I figured it worked again because he didn’t stick me up and throw me out of his car.  We talked about a bunch of unimportant things that I have long sense forgotten.  Eventually we reached the place where I was going to get out.  He started to reach back to where he had the gun holstered and I thought here goes my $2.50.  Instead of pulling out his gun he pulled out his wallet.  He gave me every dollar that he had.  He apologized for what he gave me because, in his words, it wasn’t much, but it was all he had on him.  He went on to say that if he had more he would have gladly given it to me.
     You see, he was a New York City cop on his way home from work.  That explained the gun.  He had a brother in the service and he knew what I was going through.  He figured that if he could help me he would be doing something good that day.
     I don’t know much about cops.  I do know that they do something good just about every day.  I also know that they don’t make huge salaries.  They risk their life everyday to keep the bad guys from taking the $2.50 we have stuffed in our pockets.
     I know something else about that particular cop.  There is a place in heaven marked out for him and the guys like him.  That cop taught me about charity and about gratitude.  He gave me a sense of gratitude that I will never forget.
    
     There goes that hymn again sounding off in my head.  “Have you done any good in the world today?  Have you helped anyone in need?”
     If by some really odd circumstance that cop reads this story I hope he will give me a call so that I can thank him for making me a better man than I was before I got into his car.
     Until the next time keep smiling and when you see someone in need help them out even if it is just a little act of kindness.

Who is Tage Wright?

          Who is Tage Wright?  That’s a question I have often asked myself. When I was a kid I wanted to be a pilot.  I had plans to join the Air Force.  In Junior High I pictured myself flying a jet fighter across the sky.  Then, just like the billboard in the movie “Kuffs” said, “Life is what happens while you are making other plans”. 

Acting in "The Odd Couple"

          I’ve been a sailor, a soldier, an auto mechanic, an aircraft electrician, a welder, an instrument technician, a carpenter, a hero, a villain, a playwright, a writer of fiction and about ten other things I might just want to forget.  But through it all the most important things I’ve been are a husband and a father.  The measure of a man is not the things he does in the world but that which he does within the walls of his own home.  For me, I would like to be known as a good husband and father everything else is just bragging.

          Now after over sixty three years of waking up on the green side of the grass I’m finally getting to tell stories that I hope other people will want to read.  I have these characters running around in my head itching to jump into print to tell their story.  I hope that you will want to find out what they are up to as much as I do.

          The Brotherhood of the Sword Trilogy is the story of some very bad people.  They are more than just bad guys.  They are looking to control the government of the most powerful country in the world, the United States of America.  The Trilogy consists of “Operation Armageddon”, “Project Vengeance” and the final story still in the works, “Project Doppelganger”.

          “Project Vengeance” will be available soon as a kindle download.

          Enough about that!!!  One of my goals is to help my fellow veterans who aren’t as fortunate as I am.  I’m not a rich man or a famous writer but I am a veteran who shares a common bond with everyone else who put on the uniform.  We were willing to fight for this country and if required die for it.  It is that bond that ties all veterans together.  If I can help even a little then I have done something good.

          This is why I am pledging 50% of the royalties from The Armageddon over this year to my fellow veterans.  Please visit the Soldier On web site to see what fellow veterans are doing for our comrades in arms who are in need.

          My question for all of you is a simple one that comes from a hymn I like very much “Have you done any good in the world today?  Have you helped anyone in need?”