Liberty can not be murdered

"If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained _ we must fight!" Patrick Henry

"Liberty consists in the freedom to do everything which injures no one else; hence the exercise of the natural rights of each man has no limits except those which assure to the other members of the society the enjoyment of the same rights. These limits can only be determined by law." Thomas Jefferson

"Any people that would give up liberty for a little temporary safety deserves neither liberty nor safety."
Benjamin Franklin

"The foundation of our national policy will be laid in the pure and immutable principles of private morality; ...the propitious smiles of Heaven can never be expected on a nation that disregards the eternal rules of order and right which Heaven itself has ordained..." George Washington, First Inaugural, April 30 1789


I know that it goes without saying that our country was founded on the belief of inalienable rights for all mankind, in liberty, in freedom from tyranny, and all the other concepts that are supposed to be upheld in the U S Constitution. Even so, our nation has been slipping away from the ideals that our founding fathers set in place over two hundred years ago. Those with power are trying to murder the values of liberty that so many of us take for granted.

Our founding fathers held a tea party, long long ago, at the shipyards in Boston, Massachusetts. They did this to demonstrate to the English King and his armies and navy that we could no longer be bought, that we were no longer England's possession and that we would be free casting aside all ties with our oppressors.

Why is it then that those who today fight to bring awareness to the multitudes regarding our current government's misdeeds, are being pegged as fanatics? Why are they being labeled as trouble makers who only screw up elections to keep the "good people" out of office? How do we judge who the "good people" really are, when so many who are elected lie and cheat to win their elected office?

Why are we who wish to see our country find her way back to the core beliefs this nation was founded on, being labeled as terrorists, no take that back, "the enemy"?

I have given this a lot of thought lately. It seems to me, that those labels could also be perceived as compliments to the ears of those who would see true change, not rhetorical word vomit spewed out to the masses for the sake of winning an office.

For our founding fathers, the same fathers of the revolution, stood firm in their beliefs, that there was a right way and a wrong way to govern. Originally this nation was founded on the choices that these "fanatics", these "usurpers of the peace", these Fathers of Liberty made. This system of beliefs is not archaic, but has been shoved aside by those who have warped the offices of government to meet their own ends, not the needs of the nation.

We the people have a right to see this great nation live on, to see our freedoms that are our constitutional rights remain intact. And we have definitely got the right to stand on that platform of freedom and justice for all and demand to be heard. We have the right to prosper, hold jobs, buy our own medical plans, and live anywhere in the United States of America that we are financially able to exist.

If we do not stand up for our rights through the proper means, those rights will be stripped away one by one. It would be a travesty for this to happen, because that would mean that everything our founding fathers lived died for was in vain. Liberty can not be murdered, because those of us who truly believe this, will not allow it to happen.

Cycles of Spirals

So may things I have seen, done and experienced in life, yet my life still seems so small and insignificant. So many people I have met, loved and known, yet, in the end when I leave this world I will do so alone. Each time I feel the wind on my face, seems like the first time. And every time I gaze at the beauty of autumn trees clothed in rich hues of gold, red and amber I think that this autumn is even more beautiful than last years was.

I want to drink up life, for everything its worth, seeking out the good that I believe still exists in this chaotic world around us. I strive to enjoy every precious moment spent with my family, hoping and praying that each one will bring special memories to my mind's scrapbook.

It's funny, but when our kids grow up and leave the nest, this is exactly how we start viewing life. We begin to realize just how precious and short life really is. I never thought that this would be me saying these things, but there it is!

I can't go back to the past and regain the moments gone by, but I can surely make the most of everything that is left for today. Leaving regrets behind, so that I don't waste even more precious time that I could be enjoying with them, I know that I can truly be in the moment with my family. The past is gone, and the cycles of spirals in time continue on...

November the Damned

When I was a kid growing up, the phrase "and twice on Sunday" came up quite a bit. Usually when someone was talking about something they shouldn't be doing so as a rebel they would say something to the effect of : "I drink at least a 6 pack of beer every day... and twice on Sunday!"

Anyway, I am doing a blog today for the second time in one day. It just so happens to be Sunday.

I peeked at my blog archive a few moments ago and the realization that I have not blogged for five years really hit home. Not only that, but the last time I was able to to sit down and seriously collect my thoughts enough to actually post a blog - was five years ago this November.

November is a monumental month for me. My son was born in November, he announced to to a once close friend of mine that he had memories of them molesting him, and changed the course of all our lives for ever. We had agreed to not press charges, and to just walk away from it. All of us had agreed to not mention any of it to the rest our family and just keep it between us, as it was their word against ours and we did not want to rip the family apart.
(This person was a close family friend.)

Even so, with all these little agreements made, it was revealed to me just last year that the ex best friend told everyone under the sun about it. This discovery too occurred in November, and ended any illusions that they were ever the friend I had thought they had been.

When everything first came out I was in extreme denial. This had to be a dream that he had or something. He got the events confused and it was really someone else who did it, not my best friend. After all, the memory didn't surface until he was 18 years old.

Yet he was able to describe the incident in more detail than I would have ever wanted to hear. He had been wide awake when the memory hit him and it absolutely slammed him in the face.

My son and I were battered inside, and hurting for the same and for different reasons. I had realized that as a protector, I had failed miserably with my firstborn child. As a victim of sexual abuse myself, I had sworn to never let something like that happen to my own kids. Also, it was way too many years from the date of the incident to everything coming out in the open. Statute of limitations were long past, even if we had wanted to prosecute.

I was angry and bitter when I found out last November that I had wasted five years grieving over the whole mess. I can not believe that I ever tried to keep any kind of open mind or that I tried to forgive and remain loyal to the person who wrecked not only my son's life, but mine as well.

So this year, it's all about trying to repair the hurt between my son and I. Somehow, I hope we can move on and leave it all behind us and begin anew as mother and son. A new day.

He hasn't spoken to me much over the past five years, not as much as a normal mom and son should. I know it's been hard for him, and he started a new life as well, got married 2 years ago, etc. No kids yet - and that's fine. But I have not met his wife, or seen him in years. I miss him and hope and pray that he can one day put this all into perspective and forgive me for not realizing what was going on.

The Angel

Walking silently through a crowd of people, just north of Times Square, a beautiful young woman stops dead in her tracks. Amid the clamor of many voices chattering on cell phones or hailing taxi cabs, one voice floats across the throng, to reach her ears.

A young boy speaks to his friend, "I don't know when I will see my dad again. My mother says we might not ever go back, but I don't believe her -- I know he wants to us to come home. "

As the boy and his friend pass the woman, a packet falls out of his school books. The woman picks it up, taps the boy on the shoulder and hands it back to him. After thanking her, the boy and his friend move on, heading toward their Manhattan apartments.

Later that evening, someone knocks on a sad and lonely man's front door. When he looks through the peep hole, he sees the most beautiful woman he has ever set eyes on. She has ebony black hair, palest white skin that seems to glow in the dim light of dusk, and wears a white dress that looks like she just stepped out of a painting. Her eyes are the clearest shade of blue, and as he looks into them they seem to pierce his very soul.

"Yes? May I help you?" He asks as he loosens the bolts and chains on his apartment door... But when the door opens there is no one there. Looking down in surprise at the stoop that had just been occupied by the mysterious young lady, he sees a large white envelope.

An address is written on the outside. When he breaks the seal, he finds a photograph of his son who has been missing for nearly 3 months. Feeling numb with disbelief, he hurries to the phone and calls the police.

Later as he frantically paces his living room floor, the phone rings. “Mr. Lyons? We have wonderful new for you. Can you please come to the police station? ”

Lyons looks up and sees the beautiful young woman again. She is standing in the hallway just outside, and she has tears of joy running down her cheeks. She smiles at him, a smile so sweet it breaks his heart. Then she waves, turns and walks toward the exit stairs.

Just before she reaches the door, soft, iridescent wings ripple out across her shoulders, and spread up toward the ceiling. She turns and smiles at him one more time, then walks through the door and disappears.

Mr. Lyons and his son never forgot the angel they both met on that marvelous day that they were re-united. They play in the park together, read together and do many things they missed out on before.

James’ mother, who had been addicted to drugs until that same day, tells the other re-hab patients about a beautiful young woman who touched her shoulder, whispered words of hope and wisdom, and changed her life forever…

Heels to the Wind

The "heels to the wind" approach is akin to digging your heels into the dirt and refusing to budge. It is what happens to people who get dragged into doing things that they really don't want to do, but they do it anyway. This is me, lately. I understand the concept of saying no to people, I do. However, I also don't wish to be a selfish "Me Me Me " type, who says no when the plan goes against what I want.

The scenario, I often get roped into get togethers, playing chauffer, cleaning lady, and grocery lady, all along with working anywhere from 10 to 12 hours per day at my job. All of this with little or no help from my more than capable family. I don't always speak out until I finally realize that I'm not Superwoman after all. By then, I'm foaming at the mouth, my eyes are ringed with derision and I'm pulling bald spots not only from my hair, but from everyone else's as well. I basically try to shoulder the load way to much, because, let's face it, normally I can handle it all. It is actually fairly easy to deceive myself into believing that I'm the only one who can get things done in my house. This is really a delusional characteristic of the epitome of the overworked, under appreciated, modern day woman.

Just because we handle everything most of the time, doesn't mean that we can handle everything all the time. I finally had to hang up my cape, put the vacuum cleaner in someone else's hands and scream until I was able to find my own inner -- well -- me. I had to come to terms with what I was allowing to happen to me, draw the uncrossable line, and accept my own humanity. I had to not only demand help, I also had to allow it to happen.

I'll wear the cape another day; for now, I'm glad I'm not Superwoman after all.

Meaning?

So many times people say things like, "You look way younger than that," or "You have such beautiful hair; is that a perm growing out, or is it natural curl?" Or they have even asked me, "Do you shave your eyebrows and pencil them in?" And the one that really gets me, "You are not fat, you just need to loose a little weight and then you will look just fine..."

I never really know what to believe, because we humans are very guilty of padding the truth with little white lies so we don't hurt one another's feelings. With the exception of those who really don't care about what others feel, and bluntly say whatever is on his or her mind. (Like the 'Do you shave your eyebrows?' person)

In answer to the above questions or comments, I am not as young, nor as old as I look. I am any age at any given time, that I wish to be within my own heart. Sometimes I'm a 12 year old kid, crashing her mountain bike into a tree and totalling it, other times I'm a battle scarred, old woman, who just lost a close friend to the frenzy of life's darkest hours. We do have hereditary young skin in my family though, so I probably do look physically young for my age.

My hair is a cross between Peter Frampton's look in the seventies, (with a more modern twist,sort of,) and a lion's mane. It is unruly, wavy and incorrigible. Really hopeless -- and I'm incompetent when it comes to trendy up dos.

I DO NOT SHAVE MY BROWS AND PENCIL THEM BACK IN!!! I was five years old before I even realized I had eyebrows like everyone else did, because they were such a light color and so thin. As I'm growing older, they are once again thinning and growing lighter. Now I was a very sharp minded child, always inquisitive, so if who we were as children has any bearing on who we are to be when we are old, I should be a sharp minded, inquisitive old lady with no eyebrows! (Someday, if I live that long...)

I really am not fat, that part is true, but I used to be a size three and a size five, then a seven for most of my adult years. So I consider ANY double digit sizes large on my body. I am a size 8 now, and planning on going one more size down -- just because I can.

My point is, with all of this interminable rambling, that it really doesn't matter what people think of me, or how I truly look. My body's appearance is irrelevant. I am who I am from within the depths of my mind, heart and soul. My life experiences have made me who I am today, not my body. My life experiences will continuously change me and recreate me, and I, for one, am grateful for the meaning those experiences add to my existence. I always look for meaning, for reasons, sometimes too much, I admit, but usually the pursuit of truth and the realization of it, makes it all worthwhile for me in the end...

Beginnings...

I write, all the time, in my journal, but I guess a "blog" is more interactive. I do like the idea that I can view how many people actually visit my site, which I can not do with my journal. I always wonder, like the character in Pink Floyd's, "The Wall", if there is Anybody out there. Does anyone ever read what I have to say. (They do with my journal, because I get comments from time to time.) At least with a blog, I can count the amount of people who actually read what I have to say, but have no comment to make.

Beginnings -- cliche name for a first blog entry, but fitting.

My son is beginning his adult life today, turning 21. He is also in his first few months of active duty with the Air Force, currently enrolled in his tech school, and I'm very proud of him.

I am beginning to realize my own mortality, questioning what lies beyond my kids growing up. I don't feel much older than 21 myself most days, and feel at least 80 on other days. My mindset won't allow me to grow old, though, because I don't have time for it. There is too much life left to live yet, and not enough time to live it. Sometimes time is all we have, yet there never seems to be enough of it. What a paradox!