SHE WAS A SPECIAL CHURCH LADY

 

SHE WAS A SPECIAL CHURCH LADY 

My papa had a way of telling a story that all the children enjoyed. Some of my favorites were church stories. “When the Holy Ghost gets a hold of some people,” he would say, “strange and mysterious things happen.” 

Many times papa told the story about Aunt Maggie Lou Simmons.  There was a saying among the younger ladies of the church, “Hold my baby while I shout,” but Aunt Maggie Lou was older and all her children had grown up and married off. But it never failed every  summer during the revival, Aunt Maggie Lou would shout. In fact, most of the church members looked forward to the shouting time of this elderly lady. 

“As the revival continued,” Papa would say, “it would come time for Aunt Maggie Lou to get filled with the spirit. On Saturday night it happened.  While Brother Myers was in one of his spiritual moments, Aunt Maggie Lou jumped to the center of the aisle. When she landed, she flipped one leg high in the air and sent one shoe in a rainbow arch towards the pulpit. As soon as that shoe hit the floor, she flipped the other one in the same manner. 

Now Aunt Maggie Lou was a devout Christian, and she believed that a Christian lady should never cut her hair.  Her hair had been growing all her life, and the only way she could manage it was to braid it in pigtails, roll them up in a big bun, and pin the bun to the back of her head. 

When Aunt Maggie Lou hit the floor to shout, all the regular church members knew to cover up the babies faces, and protect their eyes with songbooks. When Aunt Maggie Lou was filled with the Holy Spirit, she performed what was known as the famous “head jerk.”  When she jerked her head and popped her neck, bobby pins would fly through the church like bullets.  Even the preacher knew to duck behind the pulpit.  Her long pigtails would fall down, and she would pop her hair as if it was a whip. 

It was evident that a supernatural power had taken over her body, because even though she was a lady in her seventies, she could go up in the air and stretch her legs like a professional hurdler.  She would come down on her toes, like a ballerina, and go into a series of back flips like a high school cheerleader. The congregation would sit in amazement as Aunt Maggie Lou shouted.” 

Papa told the story so many times that I remembered it just like it was yesterday, but one thing was for certain we never got tired of papa’s church stories. I later combined a series of his stories in a book entitled, “AND WE CALLED HIM BROTHER MYERS.”   

 

 

SHE'S A GIRL ALL RIGHT

 

SHE'S A GIRL ALL RIGHT 

I will never forget the story papa told us about a little girl who rode his school bus every day. He said they called her Little Missy, and it was well known around school that you did not mess her. Little Missy liked to fight. Her mother died when she was four year old and she has been raised by her father and five brothers. They said she had to be tough to survive living with her mean brothers. 

According to papa there was another very important family that rode his bus and they were the Miller’s. They owned a big, cotton, plantation and they were wealthy. They were not liked by most of the other kids because they were arrogant. They lived in a big house and flashed expensive jewelry. Their oldest daughter was an over-weight teenager that they all called Miss Nellie. 

On one cold afternoon when the bus stopped at the Millers, Miss Nellie came bouncing up the aisle and stepped on Little Missy’s toes. Little Missy jumped up and popped Miss Nellie up side her head. Miss Nellie ran home crying to her mother. Papa said that was the beginning of a family feud. 

Soon gossip spread though out the community that there was going to be showdown. Everybody was looking forward to the showdown because excitement was scarce in this rural community. After days of gossip it finally came to a head. 

One day the Miller’s did not show up for school. The gossip was that they were making plans for the showdown. Sure enough that afternoon when the bus reached the Miller bus stop three women were waiting: Miss Nellie, Mama Miller and the younger sister. When the driver stopped the bus the Miller’s called for Little Missy to step out. 

Little Missy did not hesitate. She made her way down the aisle, and, when she reached the bus door, she flew on to those three women like a bantam rooster in a dog fight. Papa had a way of describing the fight that made it seem real. The detailed description he said was engraved in his head and he would never forget it. 

Little Missy was fast and experienced in fighting.  First, she ripped open their blouses. She then made several lightening punches to their stomachs, followed with a few smacks to the face. 

She brought a fast knee-slam between the legs of Mama Miller, and when Mama bent over in pain, Little Missy landed an uppercut to her chin that put that three hundred pound woman in a spin. 

While Mama Miller was spinning, Little Missy went to work on Miss Nellie.  The younger Miller was in a panic. She was running around yelling, “Hit her, Mama. Hit her. She’s over here, Mama. No, she’s behind you, Mama.” 

About that time Little Missy put a head lock on the younger girl and slammed her into the fat belly of Miss Nellie. She bounced all over those big women who had fists flying, fat arms slinging, and not one them ever touched Little Missy. 

In a matter of minutes, Little Missy stepped back on the bus, wiped the dust from her hands, and motioned for the driver to drive on. The Millers looked like they had been attacked by the Tasmanian Devil. Their fancy hairdos were in shambles, and their clothes were torn. The ground looked like it had been pawed up by a bull. The Millers had been left with bare breasts, bruised eyes, and hurt prides. 

Papa said it was the best entertainment the kids had seen in along time. And they were all hanging out the windows shaming the Millers. Papa would laugh and say, “At our school or on our bus, there had never been a girl fight and that one was the center of conversations for a many days to come.” 

One day later, I wrote the story exactly like papa told it and published it in a book entitled “SHOW DOWN ON BUS ROUTE #3.” 

   

 

 

ANOTHER BILLY GOAT STORY

 

ANOTHER BILLY GOAT STORY 

Some of my favorite childhood memories are the times when we would all sit around the fireplace on cold winter’s nights and listen to papa tell stories. It was the times before TV, radio, or telephone, and it was the only form of entertainment we had. Papa was not a very, good provider but he was a good entertainer. He loved to play the fiddle and make people laugh. The neighbors said that papa was a natural-born comedian. 

One of the favorite stories that I remember very well was about a nine year boy who was given the daytime job of looking after his grandmother. The boy’s father and mother had daytime jobs and he was left with the responsibility of caring for his elderly grandmother. The boy knew that his father was strict and if anything bad happened to his grandmother he would get a licking with his father’s leather belt. 

It so happened, one day when the boy was wheeling his grandmother out to the back porch, where she liked to sit and dip snuff, that his feet got all tangled up and he stumbled and fell. In the mist of his falling he accidentally pushed his grandmother and the wheelchair off the back porch. 

In the back yard was a mean billy goat. When his grandmother hit the ground the billy goat made a lunge for her. Suddenly, something happened that the boy later said looked like a miracle. In slow motion his grandma rose to the occasion. She sprang straight up in the air, clicked her heels together three times, and just gilded back up on the porch. The boy could not believe what he had seen, but he was scared to death of what his papa would do to him when his grandmother told him what had happened.  He quickly got the wheelchair back up on the porch, got it dusted off and got grandma settled down. 

Soon his father returned home from work. Lucky for the boy his grandmother was asleep. The way the boy was acting made his father suspicion that something had happened but he didn’t know what. Every time the father would start asking questions the boy would start singing. He would sing one of the songs his father played on the fiddle, Turkey in the Straw; She’ll be Comin’ Around the Mountain; Beautiful, Beautiful Brown Eyes. His father was pleased that his son could sing so well and that the boy remembered his favorite songs, but the father was confused.   

The boy’s luck continued because his grandmother slept all night in the wheel chair and by morning Alzheimer’s had kicked in and she had forgotten all about the billy goat incidence. The boy was happy that he had escaped the leather belt whipping.  Later on some of the older siblings named the story, “Grandma and the Billy Goat.”

 

  

A WHIRLWIND OF MEMORIES

 

A WHIRLWIND OF MEMORIES 

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be a grandpa and sit in your favorite rocking chair, on the front porch of your home, and cradle your grandson in your lap and tell him a story? It is a story about a lady whose voice was sweeter than the song birds. A woman who could play the church piano so good that it would make the old time Holy Rollers want to stand up and shout. But that same lady could bake an apple pie, darn a sock, sew a patch on a pair of trousers, and decorate a Christmas tree that would make your heart glow. That lady was his grandmother. 

It warms my heart to sit back and listen to my friends tell the story. I am pleased and amazed concerning the details that individuals remember about the story. THE MAMA MILLER LOVE STORY brings back memories to those who have read it, and they are memories worth retelling. 

A book can take you on an adventure like nothing you have ever experienced. It can also be one of the less expensive adventures you’ll ever encounter. People spend money on cigarettes, coke-a-cola, candy bars, and even in slot machines, and never give one serious thought about it.  But yet, they act like to spend money on a book would bankrupt them. 

A book can offer valuable moments of pleasure that takes the reader away from the hustle and bustle of daily living into a quiet place of peaceful rest. A book can provide knowledge never before experienced, and tell things about people you will never meet.    

Then the question is asked, why don’t you do yourself a favor and read the book THE MAMA MILLER LOVE STORY and enjoy the same pleasures that a grandpa shared with his grandson? 

It has been said that humans will never get tired of a good love story.  Love is a beautiful thing. It is an emotion that is hard to describe but the results are tangible.  Love comes in many forms such as the love between a mother and a child, a brother and a sister, or a neighbor respecting a neighbor.  But the most talked about form of love is that between a man and a woman. 

Some men are destined to love only one woman. A man falls in love with his high school sweetheart, and they are married and live happy ever after. This is a love affair that many believe is conceived in heaven and will continue throughout eternity. 

THE MAMA MILLER LOVE STORY is a classic story of the love between one man and one woman. The expectation of love is many years of peace and happiness, but sometimes those expectations prove to be wrong. Falling in love means the willingness to accept the consequences. It is true that sometimes love hurts, but for many the endurance of the pain is worth the benefits.  

Marriage vows should be taken seriously. However, many love affairs go wrong because the eternal flame of love was not there in the first place.  But when the flame burns out adjustments must be made.  In others the flame is there but the deck of cards that is called “life” deals a bad hand. 

The language of love is universal and it comes in the form of thousands of songs that have been sung, hundreds of poems that have been penned, thousands of books that have been written, plus hundreds of movies that have been made.  But there is one thing for certain humans will never get tired of a good love story.    

JUMPING FOR JOY

 

JUMPING FOR JOY 

The United States is at the threshold of returning to the greatest nation on the planet. All that needs to be done is for the majority of American citizens to break the chains of social injustice and enjoy the great world of diversity. There is a wonderful world waiting just outside the reach of many but the wait can only be fulfilled with willing participants. It is so easy to become involved in this wide, wide, world of diversity. It is both interesting and informative to be caught up in a societal mixture of shared interests. 

Hey, you want to borrow a cup of sugar, well I’ve got it for you. You want a cutting from my Sweet William flower plant; it’s yours for the asking. Neighbors helping neighbor’s make up the great world that surrounds us and all we have to do is accept it. It is possible that Grandma African American has a recipe for chicken and dumplings that is better than anything you have ever tasted.  Grandma Latino may have a recipe for fried chicken that is better than anything the Colonel ever dared to think about. Oh yea! And Sister Southeast Asia can bake a chocolate pie better than the Blue Ribbon one of Miss Southern Louisiana. But Miss Cajun Louisiana can stir up a pot of seafood jumbo that will make the taste buds of any human jump for joy. It is a great privilege just to be absorbed in this mixing pot of the world.   

All of this reminds me of the day when I kicked open the door of my homosexual closet and let the rays of the sun pour into my soul. Now, I don’t have to worry about what people think. I am no longer afraid of the truth because I am a free man. Don’t even try to hold me back; don’t even try to stop me, because I’m gonna shout it from the roof tops, yell it from the highest mountain, and holler it from the lowest valley. I have had a taste of freedom and now I know that is the greatest taste I have ever encountered and there will never be a going back.  You too can climb from behind the world of the closet and be free. You can accept the diverse world and join in the pursuit of happiness. Humans do have choices, you know.  

Just to think we are within a handshake of a world where humans can learn to get along with each other. To know that there is a world where weapons are not needed is a truth that should be spoken.  We are within an arm’s length of a world of happiness that is filled with “unspeakable joy” and all we have to do is reach out and grab it and once we have it, never let it go.  

 

           

THE DEVIL IS IN THE MAKING

 

THE DEVIL IS IN THE MAKING 

The one thing that makes me want to stay around for a few more decades is to witness the development in change. Change is one of the most important things that can happen to any society. It is my opinion that the biggest change in the modern world will come in the form of music. I’ve lived to see Elvis, and the Beatles; even Hendrix and Michael; but I’ve never seen anything in the social arena that compares with the change that the 20 year old Lil Nas X has brought to music.  

When a black, gay, rapper, appeared on the stage of the Grand Ole Opry, I knew that a great change was in the making. I even wrote about it in my book “LOCKER ROOM TALK. However, I did not know just how great the change was going to be. His song “THE OLD SOUTH ROAD” remained on the top of charts longer than any other song in the history of recorded music. 

Not only is there blood in the "Satan Shoes" that Lil Nas X is promoting, but his new music video is going to make Elvis and the Beatles look like the common cold. Maybe it was Covid-19 that stopped the world long enough for Lil Nas X to make a DEVIL of a video, and that’s exactly what he did.  And along with it a pair of "Satan Shoes" that is setting the world on its ears. 

The video, “CALL ME BY YOUR NAME” is going to raise the roof-tops on the “Sunday Morning Go-To Meetin’ Places,” like nothing that has happened in many decades. Religious folks do not have “a dog in his fight,” particularly since they have made such asses of themselves in the worship of Donald Trump. If this is not a form of devil worship, I don’t know what it? After all, it is religion that has demonized homosexuality to be the worse of all sins. 

In my struggles as a gay teenager, I witnessed far more sermons about homosexuality than any other subject. Lil Nas X, at the age of twenty, has already “come out.”  He says since he has been told all his life that he is going to hell for being gay therefore; he might as well make a video about it. 

This video has already been called by some as a “Culture Shock.” As the old folks would say, “this guy has already up and done it.” In this video the entertainer is seen sliding down a long stripper pole into the pits of hell. When he gets there he gives the devil a lap-dance. Lil Nas X is a smart, handsome, young African American man, and he is already a SUPER STAR to many American teenagers and especially to young LGBTQ individuals. He has done more to help the gay communities than any one person in the last five decades, and he is just getting started. 

It is like I said back in the sixties when I was a beginning teacher; the more adults raise a ruckus about teenage fads the more they like it and the more popular the fad becomes. Such as long hair and sideburns for teenage boys, or the “Afro” for African American students, every group of teenagers want to be different and I for one like changes in hair styles, clothing attire, and music. I am glad that “across the waters” I found a different culture that fits me to a tee. 

Rest assured the more hell that is raised about Lil Nas X’s video the richer he will become. He will be smiling all the way to the bank concerning all the free advertisements the religious community will give to him.  But something tells me that there is far more value to this video than monetary benefits. 

      

A PERSONAL NOTE

 

    A PERSONAL NOTE 

I am an eighty-two year old American citizen living in Thailand.  I have been a teacher, a gospel public speaker, a coach, a businessman, and a writer. I realize that the shades of life are closing in around me but I still get great joy with the pen.  I have written and published over 200 Op.-Ed.’s, 10 novels, numerous short stories, and several poems.  There comes a time in any man’s life when it becomes necessary for him to blow his own horn, particularly if he knows his horn is capable of producing sweet music. You are welcome to join individuals from 68 different countries who have read and are still reading my Op.-Ed.’s. There is a lifetime of reading @ wordsfrommrd.com.

I am presently writing several novels but there is one particular one that I would like to tell you about, and the title is “LOCKER ROOM TALK.” I have been writing this novel for over 5 years and naturally, I think this book has potential. However, when it is published in 2021, the readers will become the final judges. All I can do is write it and hope for the best. 

(To be continued)

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

          

IMAGINATION TURNED TO WRITING

 

IMAGINATION TURNED TO WRITING 

It was in the summer following the fifth grade that I wrote my first story. I wrote a story entitled “AN UPSTAIRS AFFAIR.” It was a story about an African American girl and a Caucasian girl, who captured a white boy and made him their sex slave. They handcuffed him to a metal frame bedpost in an upstairs apartment. 

There were no detailed pornographic scenes, just the agony of the boy who was starved because the girls failed to feed him properly.  Finally, the boy was discovered by his mother and the two girls were hauled off to jail. The story was written in a rough form in the cursive of a fifth grader with a lead pencil on regular notebook paper. A copy was mailed to “True Confession” magazine. No one in my family knew what I was doing although my mother knew that I was up to something. Several weeks later the story was returned in a brown envelope with a nice written rejection letter. 

However, the story didn't end there. Several months later I read a story published in this same magazine that was very similar to the story I had written. In fact, the story had the same title. Later, the story was turned into a movie. Once again, I was just a kid and had no proof that this was indeed my story. I did not have it copyrighted so nothing could be done. And the fact was that an elementary, country, school boy did not have the money to hire a lawyer. 

But things continued to be interesting.  My sixth grade teacher Mrs. Colbert was the nicest, gentlest, sweetest, teacher anyone could imagine. She loved children and her actions proved it.  In the sixth grade we sharpened the skills we had already learned. We reviewed multiplication tables. We practiced long division and we read. Mrs. Colbert had a large collection of books and we were encouraged to read. 

It was in my sixth grade year that I wrote a second story. It was in that story that my imagination played a major role.  The story was about the marriage between a cat and a rat. The rat was the husband and the cat was the wife. They shared a happy home in the forest. They had three children, two boys and a girl, and the children were called karats.  Their school teacher was the wise, old, Mr. Owl and their gossiping neighbor was Mrs. Chattering Squirrel. Across the meadow and on the other side of a big pasture filled with blooming flowers, was a range of small mountains. Inside one of the mountains was a cave and the children had been warned never to enter the cave. But one day curiosity got the better of the children and they decided to explore. The cave was filled with different channels and Wilbur, the older of the boys, decided to explore a different one. He became separated from the other two and got lost in the cave. He became confused and was unable to find his way out. The other children were forced to report to their parents what they had done and confess that Wilbur was lost. 

The parents panicked and a posse of forest animals was formed for the purpose of entering the cave to find Wilbur. The posse was led by the sheriff, Mr. Raccoon and included Mr. Possum, Mr. Armadillo, Mr. Squirrel and even the famous Mr. Red Fox.  Wilbur was located and a happy reunion occurred with his parents. 

My sixth grade teacher loved the story and kept it with the intention of having it published during the summer. But in that summer tragedy struck the Colbert family. Their teenage son committed suicide. Information about this was kept at a very low key but all I learned was from my seventh grade teacher, Mrs. Raney Glanton. She informed the class that after the death of her son, Mrs. Colbert moved from the small town of Chatham to the big city of Shreveport. I never heard from her again and was not able to recover my story.  

Several times since then I have tried to rewrite the story, but all attempts have failed. I have never been able to rewrite it the same way as I wrote it when I was a sixth grader. 

From the seventh grade I entered High School. My writing career suffered because I began to realize that I had the possibility of a problem.  I was not developing a like for the opposite sex as was expected. At first, I thought I would grow out of it, but as my teenage years progressed the problem grew more acute.  Even though I did not let it affect my grades, I became a troubled teenager. 

I attended church regularly and I heard many sermons concerning the evils of homosexuality. The fear of hell made a great impression on this teenage boy. Realizing I had a problem, I turned to religion to solve the problem. I actually thought at one time in my life if I dedicated myself to Christianity and prayed often enough that I would be touched by the magic wan of the Holy Spirit and turned into a straight man. After college I entered the seminary to continue my quest to study the scriptures and wait for the transformation. 

However, the transformation did not come.  Finally, the realization came to me that all my hopes of being transformed into a straight man were delusional. Realization was a happy release, but realizing I was gay, I thought that I had to develop a plan to deal secretly with my homosexuality.

(To be continued)                

 

  

 

 

 

 

SCHOOL CHANGED THINGS

 

SCHOOL CHANGED THINGS 

Things went smooth for me until the day when I was to board the big, yellow, bus that would take me to places I had never experienced. I don’t remember too much about that but my siblings later told me that I put up an extremely big fight. I refused to take a ride on something that I feared.  Nevertheless, the problem was solved when mom had to accompany me the first three days of school. Mom ushered me into the classroom and after I became orientated to the procedure, someone would give her a ride back to the farm which was 10 miles away. After the first few days I developed a strong liking for school; in fact, I liked it so much that from grades 1 through 12, I had a perfect attendance record. 

 Mrs. Womack was my first grade teacher and she was strict. I remember that she made me sit me in the corner with my nose in a circle because I pulled the pigtails of the young girl sitting in the desk in front of me. I also remember the teacher keeping me in at recess and making me write 100 lines that I would not talk in class. Nevertheless, I soon learned the meaning of discipline, and my behavior improved.  On the other hand, there were many good times. I remember enjoying counting the different color beads on the bead rack that sat in front of the classroom. I remember a proud feeling when I could identify most of the animals in the pictures that the teacher held up. For a farm boy this was a fairly easy exercise. My confidence grew and soon school became my passion. 

Within a matter of days my playhouse changed. I left the big farm under the shade trees and set up a make-belief classroom in the back yard. I fell in love with school and each afternoon I would pretend to be the teacher and teach the lessons I had learned that day. I built a caulk board from some scrap lumber, painted it black and stood it behind my teacher’s desk which was made from fruits carts. The black board was rough and was hard to erase, but it served the purpose for a mythical classroom. 

I don’t remember much about second grade. But I do remember that my teacher Mrs. Wilder, made us read a lot. We had a second grade reader that we had to complete. Plus, I remember reading from the Weekly Reader and enjoying the news articles. News was limited at our home, so an insight into the world of news was fascinating.   

I remember my third grade teacher Mrs. Moss, threatening to give me a paddling because I exaggerated my Halloween events. Each student was allowed to tell what we did for Halloween, and I allowed my imagination to run wild. She knew it and later told me that she recognized my imagination, but she also knew that it was important for her to impress upon me the value of being truthful. The threat of the paddling scared me and from then on I was careful to tell the truth. 

My fourth grade teacher was Mrs. Dickerson. Each student had to stand before the class and recite the multiplication tables. If we made a mistake she would paddle us in the palm of the hand with a thick ruler. I had been told that it hurt, so I made sure I learned the multiplication tables very well. 

My fifth grade teacher was Miss Gaskin. She was a rough lady but a strict disciplinarian. She would use the paddle in a wink of an eye, and I developed the idea that she enjoyed it. Even though she put the fear of   God in us she also taught us many new things. In the fifth grade I learned long division. 

Each day after lunch Miss Gaskin would read to us. I was impressed by the story “Strawberry Girl.” For years I remembered parts of the story. Later in life, I discovered the author Lois Lenski, and reread Strawberry Girl and many other books she had written. Today, I have several books written by Lois in my Thailand library.

 (To be continued) 

THE FOUNDATION FOR IMAGINATION

 

THE FOUNDATION FOR IMAGINATION 

The Tippen farmhouse might have been a little rough around the edges but the Tippen home was a safe, happy, shelter for country dwelling. The farmhouse consisted of a double duplex structure connected by a hall breezeway. At one end was the original log-cabin built by my grandpa, McDuff Tippen, in the 1880’s, and at the other end was an oak, plank, pioneer-type, structure used as the kitchen. A bedroom had been attached to the backside of the kitchen and the same to log cabin. A wide porch spread across the front of the cabin and the kitchen which allowed ample living space for country lodging. 

A stick-mud chimney was located at the end of both buildings which was the main heating element for the home. The farmhouse was far from perfect, but it was considered a temple in the hearts of the nine children born to Amy and Dennis Tippen.  

In front of the farmhouse was a wide, white, sandy area that was called the lane. The lane was used for parking cars because there always seemed to be plenty of company at the Tippen residence. Across the lane was a series of big, shade trees which served as the border line for the forest. At the north end of the lane were several big sweet gum trees. Under those sweet gum trees was my playhouse. With the leaved racked it exposed clean, white, sand that was perfect for a play area. My playhouse consisted of a large imaginary farm. The fence posts were toothpicks with white cotton string stretched between the posts that represented the wire fences that separated the fields. Green grass blades represented rows of corn and pieces of broken tree limbs with small balls of cotton wrapped around the wigs made excellent cotton fields. 

In my fantasy, I was a very successful farmer and my farm consisted of many animals. Brown dried pine cones were cows. Green pine cones were pigs and the dried sweet gun balls were chickens. 

I have told this story many times and each time others have questioned the statement that I had no store-bought toys. Nevertheless, that is a true statement. The reality of our domicile was that we had very little money, but money was not a necessity.  We had cows, pigs, chickens, and a garden, therefore we had food. My father had a job hewing railroad crossties, receiving 25 cents per crosstie, which proved that currency was scarce at the Tippen household. 

In my playhouse I had a hand-made wooden truck. The truck had wooden wheels for tires and was in the shape of a pick-up truck which I used to take my make-belief animals to the sales barn and return home with new ones.  The truck was perfect for my farm and money came easy in my fictional world. 

For a five year old, my playhouse was complete with a farmhouse and a farm pond. I used pieces of a broken glass mirror to represent water in the pond and my father had carved several small ducks that were painted white, and they sat peacefully swimming in the pond. I even concocted a small diving board that set off at one end of the pond that made the reality complete. 

I spent hours in that playhouse and maybe those were the formative hours that set the foundation for my imagination. Our closest neighbors were miles away and I never experienced a childhood playmate.  What you don’t know won’t hurt you, so I never suffered from loneliness as a child. 

I had one sister and one brother still living in our family abode, whereas all the other siblings were older and had moved on. There were times when I was raised nearly as an only child. That’s why my older brothers and sisters always said, I was the spoiled one.

(To be continued) 

 

THE LEGACY OF IGNORANCE

 

THE LEGACY OF IGNORANCE

I am a Southern man by birth only. I am not an advocate of raping women and claiming they are my property. I do not believe in the whipping post. I have no desire to be a part of a society where a man is identified by the scars on his back rather than the lines on his face.  I am not a believer in hanging an innocent man to create fear in others. I do not support castrating young boys simply because of the color of their skin. I am not a promoter of separating mothers from their children as if they are cattle in the auction barn. I object to burning a man’s home because I fear his financial prominence. I do not believe in inflicting pain upon others, and I firmly believe that the mistreatment of humans have consequences. 

I am a proud Southern, gay man because I have been given the insight to look at all issues with a broad perspective. I know what it’s like to walk in another man’s shoes, and I know injustice from personal experience. I thank God every day that he gave me the intellect to see the evil in the ways of the Southern white man.  That God gave me the desire to rise above it, the need to remove myself from it, and the ability to speak out against it. 

As if there is not enough controversy in the United States today, it is unbelievable that Americans are attempting to create more. There is a movement to return to the days of White Supremacists under the Confederate Rule. It is a guaranteed human right in a democracy, that all citizens have the right to vote, but an attempt to suppress the right to vote is being done presently in 43 state legislatures. These acts are being done by members of the present day Republican Party saying; if we cannot control this government, we will mess it up to the point that no one can control it. 

Democracy is not defined as a “White Only Government.” It is a form of governing that represents all people. If it happens that the society is a diverse society democracy is still a form of government that governs for all the people. The Republican Party is an all white party consisting of mean spirited, hateful people, who think they are better than others. The inconsistency is that they also claim this to be a form of Christianity. This is a “FALSEHOOD” written in capital letters.  It may take many years but this form of government will be defeated. But in the meantime it is not stopping the description of the “Ugly American” being displayed around the world. 

What the Donald Trump administration has done for the world is reveal the true character of Americans. Americans have always been a group of spoiled world citizens. Americans have portrayed themselves as the “Ugly American,” claiming to be a superior race. 

The Unites States has always been a nation bathed in hate. Hate is a shameless act, yet it is the driving force that motivates too many. The unadulterated notion that White Americans are better than others is an absolute mark of the lack of education. A hate crime is an evil act that is counter productive to intelligence. America’s educational system needs to go back to the drawing board, because what is being displayed today by millions of Americans is direct proof in the lack of education. 

As an educator, it has been a shock to face the reality of just how many stupid Americans make up American society. There are so many actions that prove this stupidity. The most evident one is to be a follower of Donald Trump.  Second to that is to make personal health a political issue. A person who is stupid enough to listen to others and not wear a mask is a person too stupid to be called a human. In addition to that is the refusal of the vaccine, which places Americans in a group of one of the most ignorance nations on the planet. When parents refuse to take these precautions and die of Covid, they leave their children with a legacy of ignorance.      

 

 

A STORY WORTH THE TELLIN'

 

A STORY WORTH THE TELLIN’ 

I disagreed with a principal who used his authority to walk into my classroom and jerk up a boy and expel him from school because his hair was too long or his sideburns were below his earlobes or because he was wearing scandals without socks or because he his pants were designed with flowers or bright colors. 

In the mean time, while I had to literally part the cigarette smoke to even walk into the teacher’s lounge; at this American High School there was a designated “Smoking Area” for high school students and faculty members.  Even though they deny it until this day, it happened.   While the tobacco smoking faculty members hated me for requesting a “Smoke Free Teachers Lounge” the principle was scheming ways to get rid of me.  He couldn’t fire me because I had a perfect teaching record. 

When the occasion arose the principle had the opportunity to get rid of me, embarrass me, and subject me with the highest form of injustice; so he shipped me off to teach in an all black high school. Even though it was rough being a white teacher in a black school, I was determined to remain in the teaching profession. I used the experiences I learned from African American students to become a successful teacher in an Integrated Public School System. Those lessons could not be learned in the best educational classes of any university or college; they could only be learned in on the job training.   

In the mean time, while some members of my family were smoking cigarettes like they were going out of style and some were dying, I was called the “Black Sheep” of the family because I smoked marijuana. Since the early nineteen sixties, I have been an advocate for the legalization of both recreational and medical marijuana. Nevertheless, I have encouraged citizens to abide by the law.   

When I was offered a highly respected position in a Magnet School in Little Rock Arkansas; Father Time came to my rescue. Time revealed the benefits of the “Miracle Weed,” and the truth was revealed about the death trap of smoking tobacco. It is funny how time changes things. 

Now back to those students who were kicked out of school. They realized they had done nothing wrong and that they were victims of “foolish authority.” They became adults and had children, and now they have taught their children to disrespect foolish authority. To those other students were jerked up, handcuffed, sent to jail, and sometimes to prison, for smoking a joint, they too realized that they were victims of a foolish law.  They also become adults and now have children and have taught their children to disrespect foolish authority. 

While jails and prisons were overflowing with “Pot Smokers” lawmaking authorities were busy using tax payer’s dollars hiring “NARC SQUADS.” Their purpose was to bust what the authorities called the “devil’s pot smokers.”  What they failed to realize that a large number of the “NARCS” were also pot smokers and avid cocaine users who were using the legal system to protect their drug addictions. 

Meantime, while America was going to hell in a hand basket, the authorities were taking it upon themselves to make sure that Americans were law abiding citizens.  There is a great deal of difference between “foolish authority” and “real authority.” When a teenager is stopped and arrested for “jay walking” and it ends up in an altercation where the policeman shoots and kills the teenager; there is no doubt that foolish authority was involved.  When a mother is stopped by the police for a broken tail light and it ends up with the policeman shooting and killing the mother in front of her children, it is another sad case of foolish authority. When a nine year old girl is sprayed in the face with pepper spray by a policeman, it is a horrible case of foolish authority. When a policeman shoots and kills a six year old child for playing with a wooden pistol, foolish authority has reached its highest point. When a policeman puts his knee on the neck of a subdued citizen and prevents the citizen from breathing for seven minutes, while the policeman is busy smiling for the camera, foolish authority is out of control. 

Today, the American government is experiencing, “the chickens coming home to roost.” The United States has become the perfect example of “reaping what you have sown.” Starting back in the sixties, authorities have been making foolish mistakes and governments have lacked the knowledge of making the right decisions. The terrible aspect of all of this is the fact that government officials deny making mistakes and thus citizen carnage continues. Jails and prisons are still overflowing with innocent victims. Respected citizens have lost their jobs, their homes, and their children, over this “misguided marijuana” issue.  Even when the truth has been revealed very few prisoners have been released for none violent crimes while white collar criminals walk around as free as a bird. There is a price to be paid for all of this, and that price will be paid by the hardships that will fall on the backs of future generations. 

Today, the students of Hong Kong are fighting a hardcore Communist authoritative rule in an attempt to establish a democracy. The people of the world are looking on but doing nothing.  North Korean citizens are captured by an evil dictator who has killed thousands of his own people and thousands of others are starving. But yet the United States President, at the time, announced to the world that he had a love affair going on between himself and the most evil dictator on the planet.  While the people of the world are fighting to be free, Americans are casting their freedom at the feet of a wannabe dictator who is willing to destroy a democracy in order to satisfy his selfish need for praise and power.    

 

THE INDOCTRINATION OF DEMISE

 

THE INDOCTRINATION OF DEMISE 

It is unfortunate that American politics has caused the deterioration of friendships, the separation of families, and far too many uncontrollable social conflicts. All of these are social declines that hasten the demise of a great empire. The political divide has become so wide that a successful “crossover” is nearly impossible. 

The United States has given rise to a nation that has received “bountiful blessings” but continue to ask for more. A nation that has given birth to generations who can ask only one question, “What can my country do for me?” A nation involved in a war but unwilling to stop it; a nation in decline but unwilling to change it. The United States has become a nation of leaders who were able to disguise hatred as an acceptable social characteristic. 

In America a group of leaders have been able to disguise “religious freedom” as the acceptance of only one religion.  The USA is a nation of men with the ability to disguise the freedom of all men, to mean freedom for just one RACE. A nation in which the men who were establishing a government that guaranteed the unalienable rights of all men, were standing knee deep in the waters of injustices, and the waves from those waters of injustice created wrinkles in the paper in which the Constitution was written. 

The great empire has become a defaulted nation in which the elected “lawmaking body” has fashioned a perfect lifestyle for themselves, but in so doing created an imperfect lifestyle for their constituents. Selfishness thrives in the nation's capital. The USA is a nation of people who have seen the handwriting on the wall and are able to read it, but unable to accept the consequences. 

When a large number of adults go so far as worshiping a man-made idol, it is goodbye to the “great American pie.”  Americans have misused intelligence to subvert the control of White Power, to establish an unlawful government. 

It is still a great historical mystery why a parent will support an elected official who has for decades denied a better standard of living for their children and the entire “Working Class of Americans,” simply because he is a bigot and a “White Supremacists.” It is evident that the entire political conflicts in the USA today, are centered all-around, “White Power Control.”

It is sad but true that the demise of the world’s greatest democracy is being irradiated by Republican State Legislatures passing laws directly aimed at voter suppression.  Elected officials are passing law by laws, that are destroying the democracy that our forefathers fought for and millions of others have died for, and I will not remain silent while this demise is occurring. 

Time and time again Republicans have shown their true colors. Not one Republican voted for the stimulus package that is aimed to help all Americans. Not one Republican voted to increase the hourly wage for American workers. But foolish voters will again return to the polls and vote to keep these same Congress men and women in office.  And you ask me the question, how are these voters brainwashed?  

It is the same kind of brainwashing that Jim Jones used to convince 900 mothers and father to murder their own children in the mass murder-suicide in Jamestown, Guyana.  The same brainwashing that was used in the jungles of Guyana is being used today in the streets, alleys, and in American homes, to worship the idol of Donald Trump.  This is the worse act of idolatry that has ever occurred in American history.    

 

 

     

TELL IT LIKE IT IS

 

TELL IT LIKE IT IS  

As long as Republicans can convince “Working Class Americans” to support white power the happier they are. However, their methods are in doused with evil.  If you are living on a $7.25 hourly wage and you go to the polls and vote for Republicans you deserve the starvation wages you are receiving. If you are retired and living on Social Security benefits and you go to the polls and vote for a Republican you deserve the meager funds that Social Security offers. You should be reminded that you are supporting a political party that has refused to increase funds for Social Security but has approved annual pay increases for themselves. If you are depending on food stamps to help feed your children and you vote for Republicans, you deserve the crumbs that fall from the rich man’s table. 

Many gay people reject happiness because they have been brainwashed in believing that their lifestyle is undeserving of anything better. That is why so many African Americans remained on the plantations after the Civil War because they had been brainwashed to believe that they deserved nothing better.  Severe brainwashing is another reason that one man, using religion, can influence parents to murder their own children. Brainwashing is a dangerous technique with the main purpose of control. 

We are told that it is ineffective to call Republicans stupid, but it is hard to conceive that “voting class Americans” are unable to see through the facade of elected officials.  When it comes to Congress giving aid to foreign nations, it is like a rubber stamp of “YES.”  But when it comes to doing things for American citizens, such as increasing the minimum wage, there are belabored hours of debates and most of the time nothing is accomplished. The last increase in the minimum wage was 2009. But still these “working class Americans,” go to the polls and vote for the people who are responsible for their starvation wages. It is hard to define that with any other word but “stupid.” Even parents allow elected officials to deny their children of a better lifestyle. 

The Christians make a mountain out of a mole hill regarding the scriptures in Leviticus concerning homosexuality. But they totally ignore the scriptures of Moses on Mount Sinai and the Ten Commandments, when the children of Israel immediately started worshiping the Golden Calf.  I have said many times before, if a religion is so shallow that members quickly start worshiping the golden image of Donald Trump, then it was not a religion but a mere disguise of an excuse to worship materialism. 

Donald Trump is a con-artist and he is the most recognizable con-artist in the history of mankind. He might as well walk around with a sign on his forehead, “I am a con-artist” because it is so evident what he is. Those supporters who deny his involvement in the “Insurrection of January 6, 2021” and are now worshiping the “Golden Image,” are helplessly gone and not only are they without help but they are mentally reprieved.  They are a disgrace to themselves and a disgrace to the United States of America. They worship Donald Trump because he represents what they really are.  

   

IGNORANT TABOOS AND STUPID SOCIAL CUSTOMS

 

IGNORANT TABOOS AND STUPID SOCIAL CUSTOMS 

From the beginning of time ignorant taboos and stupid social customs have caused the death of many innocent people. It is within the human species that little value is placed on human life. Humans have always killed thousands of others in wars and have no grievances in sending young man and women to die in war. It has been said by scholars that Americans cannot live without conflict. So they have created stupid customs that trigger social discord. Humans have failed to accomplish the art of living together. 

Ignorant taboos were practiced for years within the Aztec culture. The act of human heart-extraction was a means of liberating a tribe when it was thought that the gods were angry.  In primitive African tribes the head clansman had the authority to choose the most beautiful young maiden in the village and force her into a volcano with the belief that it pleased the gods. 

Burying children alive was another taboo practiced by the Arabs in the pre-Islamic period. This practice was also widely used in India. The reason male children were buried alive was due to poverty. Female children were buried alive to avoid invasion of neighboring war-like tribes. It was an ignorant taboo that brought a slow and horrible death to children. 

Other stupid customs have caused physical harm to many.  In Burundi and Tanzania even today, persecution of people with albinism is based on the belief that certain parts of albino individuals can transmit magical powers. Albino children have to be placed in protected areas to prevent physical harm even to the point of death. 

In Madagascar the birth of twins is viewed as a bad omen sent by God. “The Demon Superstition” is the curse of twins and twin babies are often abandoned or killed. 

Now let’s move to a more modernistic approach to ignorant taboos and stupid social customs. It is sad but true, “White Superiority” is a stupid social custom, and has been the chief cause of American conflict for decades. Americans have developed a society of conflict therefore have adapted social customs that enhance divergence.  “White Superiority” is one of those customs that gives rise to controversy.  The act of legalized slavery was a recipe for struggles and would never have ended with a peaceful society. The American Civil War was fought to put an end to this barbaric act, but in recent days with a White Supremacist in the   White House, the ignorant custom of White Superiority has reared its ugly head. Once again, America is faced with social differences that may lead to another civil war. 

For decades in the USA, homosexuality was viewed as a curse from God and the act was not only evil but against the law. Religion has played a major role in developing stupid social customs and thus that has been the driving force behind the social injustice against homosexuals. Any time a society places one gender above another, it is a formula for conflict. As long as heterosexuals share the position of superiority in American society, conflicts will continue, and even today the stupid custom is permeated by evangelical church leaders.  

Throughout the history of mankind there have been thousands of foolish theories that were believed by many. But the one that stands “head and shoulders” above all the others is the, “Pizza Gate Conspiracy Theory,” that originated in the United States of America. This conspiracy theory was permeated by none other than Republicans.  The Republicans have gone so far as to deny that the insurrection of January 6^th was not an armed insurrection. The absolute stupidity that surrounds the Republican Party is a direct threat to America’s democracy. 

Americans are supposed to be some of the most educated people in the world, but yet they have succumbed to the dumbest conspiracy theory of all times. It is difficult to believe that members of the Republican Party can be proud to be a member of a “Kook Party.” Of all the foolish political beliefs that have been encountered in the entire history of political parties, “the Pizza Gate Conspiracy” is by far the worse.   

Republicans have lost all concepts of intelligence in the belief of an invisible leader known as QAnon. Under the leadership of the mentally deranged Marjorie Taylor Greene, they believe Democrats gather in the basement of a Pizza Parlor; have sex with underage children, then cut off their heads and drink their blood. Of course, Republicans reached the bottom of the barrel when they endorsed Donald Trump, but to go a step further and believe in the “Pizza Gate Conspiracy,” place them below the bottom of the barrel. 

Now the question is asked, are Americans going to allow the stupidity of the Republicans to destroy a great democratic empire? Regardless as to what happens to the United States, the misguided events of the Republican Party, for the sole purpose of retaining “White Power,” will be regarded as one of the greatest transgressions in world history.    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOUNTIFUL BLESSINGS

 

BOUNTIFUL BLESSINGS 

There is no doubt; God has blessed the United States of America. Even though the white man brought barbaric, genocide to the American Indians; God blessed America. Even though, the white man treated African Americans with inhumane, atrocities; still God blessed America. Even though for decades the white man denied Civil Rights to LGBTQ individuals; God has continued to bless America. Even today with evil permeated within the hearts of America’s elected officials; God still blesses America. However, it is possible that even with God, there comes a time when enough is enough. 

From the days of my youth all I ever planned for my life was to be involved in social activities that would benefit global societies. Religious cults such as, the Church of Christ, Southern Baptists, Methodists, and Pentecostal, through the absolute process of false indoctrination, took that spark of social improvement, and turned it into guilt and shame because I was a homosexual. 

Even today, I have to control the streak of resentment that is in me when I watch these same religious cults support the likes of Marjorie Taylor Greene. I have to cap my anger when I see the same cults support Donald Trump, “the man of a million shames,” and the leader of the insurrection to overthrow the United States government.  When I see so-called Christians give lip service to the likes of Lindsey Graham, I actually tremble to think that my country has strayed so far from the path of righteousness and rebuked the many blessings from the Almighty. 

I am surprised that Lindsey Graham can walk upright because he has no backbone. He is a disgrace to America. He is a disgrace to the respected citizens of South Carolina. He is a universal disgrace to all men. He is a disgrace to masculinity, and he is the one person that even the gay communities will not claim. All Lindsey can do is crawl up the legs of Donald Trump and mix and mingle with all the dirty, sinking, garbage that makes Donald Trump tick.  Or he can crawl like a snake and lick the boots of Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin. Donald Trump and Lindsey Graham are a disgrace to the human race and should be placed in a category outside that of humans. 

But of course, those are only two. It is hard to define what went wrong with America, but a generation of spineless, jellyfish has placed America in an episode of degradation unbelievably compared to the men and women who made America great. It is doubtful that the Democrats will be able to solve the great divide that separates the two major political parties. But if the Democrats do not take the “hard-line approach” during the two year period of control, a democratic government will be lost forever. 

It is evident that the modern day Republican Party is determined to retain “White Man Control” even if it takes a white dictator. The “bully on the playground approach” means that if they cannot control the country, they will destroy it. How sad is the ignorance of man? This proves what I have written about so much, the uncontrollable addiction to “greed and power,” will destroy the human race.  

The United States is a nation that is suffering in all aspects of social injustices. It has been repeated many times through out history that God poured numerous blessing on individuals and nations, to have those who have been blessed turn their backs on God. America is a nation baptized in hatred; glorified in prejudice; emerged in bigotry; and drowning with White Supremacy.