The Dash In The Middle

We're born, we live and we die. The living, that's where we make our mark, where we decide what we leave behind. Each of us decides who we  will be, what we'll do to contribute, what legacy we will work towards and what we'll leave behind.

It's the dash in the middle. That's what counts.

That dash in the middle is found in the place we will all end up: the grave yard. That dash is on every headstone of every grave in every cemetery. The date to the left of that dash is the beginning, the birth, a starting point to the life we will live. It is the roaring, fiery launch of a rocket-life that begins with a newborn infant's first breath, whimper and cry. From that very moment until the last breath is drawn, that dash in the middle is who we are, who we become, how we shape our lives. That dash in the middle is what we do with the life we are given, what we say to the world, a statement that will last long after we are gone in the memories of those whose dashes ours intersects.

That dash in the middle is time, a commodity that cannot be bought but can easily be lost or, worse, wasted. We are given that dash in the middle by our Almighty Creator who, in His infinite wisdom, grants us a choice in what we do with that dash, the life we live and what we choose to do with it.

That dash in the middle needs to be nurtured, watered and grown into a life-tree that will bear fruit, sustaining the chain-reaction of all the dashes that will follow through the ages.

What are you doing with that dash in the middle, right now, this moment you've taken to read this entry? What does that dash in the middle look like, this instant, to those whose own dash yours crosses? No one else decides what your dash in the middle will look like, how bold or meaningful that dash is or may become, how deeply it will be etched into the headstone that is our time, our lives.

That dash in the middle, though small it may be in our final resting place, is the single, most important life-long symbol of what we did with our lives, how well we filled, or wasted, that dash. The dash in the middle seems unending in youth but very short when the date to the right of it is filled. Make that dash in the middle have meaning, both to yourself and all the others who are filling their own. Don't just say, wish or dream; DO. Take that first bold step, make that dash in the middle deeper, more meaningful, impactful. Fill that dash in the middle to overflowing, splash it positively over all the other dashes encompassed in your own.

Make that dash in the middle COUNT.

Calvin Broadus and Society's Double-Standard

Who?

You know, Calvin...who uses the stage moniker 'Snoop Dogg'.

Yeah, that guy.

Broadus recently released a 'music' ( and I use that term very loosely ) video in which he's depicted as shooting our current President in the head.

That's right...he shoots President Trump ( depicted as a clownish image ) in the head. With a handgun.

Broadus is a convicted felon, gang member and drug trafficker who's made a name for himself in the rap industry; a criminal that's appeared on reality shows, late night talk shows...heck, he even cooked with fellow convicted felon Martha Stewart on TV, so he's gotta be a good guy, right?

His video doesn't surprise me in the least. He once released a song ( again, loosely-used word; what the heck do you call that stuff? ), that HE wrote, that advocates shooting police officers. In 'Tha Shiznit', there's a line that says "...it's 1-8-7 on a mother******* cop..."; 187 is the California penal code section for homicide, The next stanza includes reference to shooting people with an AK-47 rifle.

Clearly, Broadus is a peace-loving, patriotic American.

Let's turn the tables on this. Suppose someone like, say, Toby Keith did a music video in which he shoots a cartoon Barack Obama. The media firestorm would last for weeks and end the country music star's career, but in today's liberal, double-standard society, what Broadus did is considered 'art' and 'free speech'. The mainstream, fake-news media might have covered this story for exactly one day, never to be heard of again, but Broadus will be hailed as a social justice warrior by those thumb-sucking, participation trophy snowflakes who need safe spaces and protest micro-aggression...yet lyrics from the vast majority of felon Broadus' numbers include violence, glorify drug use and disrespect women.

There's that double-standard thing again...

                                                                  Calvin Broadus

Pre-judging Repeal of the Affordable Care Act

From a story in the News Journal, printed March 10, 2017, covering local concerns about the effort to repeal and replace the ACA:

"People's lives are at risk, and it seems like...you have to be rich to be healthy, and I am so opposed to that," said Samantha Hypes, a medical social worker. "You shouldn't have to be rich to be healthy."

Ms. Hypes, I am, too. I am opposed to people being denied quality health care because of financial standing. However, your version of opposition is flawed, based on whatever your definition of 'rich' may be.

Consider this: I'm retired on total disability, meaning I live on a fixed income. When I left the job in 2013 my health premiums were $268 a month. Since that time they've skyrocketed to over eight hundred dollars a month, thanks to the (Un)Affordable Care Act's full implementation, and I can't draw on my social security contributions for another six years. When I called the local SSA office after being forced to retire due to on-duty injuries, I was told Ohio Police and Fire's definition of disability was quite different from theirs. I paid into SS for decades yet, despite the fact I have enough metal parts in me to build a Buick, I can't benefit; however illegal immigrants put hundreds of millions of dollars' worth of burden on the American taxpayer every year, with much of that money coming from SSA.

What I'll draw at age sixty-six, based on present-day figures, will cover about two-thirds of my monthly healthcare premiums.

The point is, the ACA as it currently stands is extremely flawed; insurance didn't become cheaper, as was touted; rather, premiums jumped by several hundred dollars a month.

And I ain't rich.

John Wick versus Jack Reacher: who wins?

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Someone please, tell me: what has the President done since January 20, 2017 that has been detrimental to women? I watched the Cleveland evening news and saw women...and a few 'males'... marching, protesting, celebrating a 'Day Without Women'. I saw a woman holding a sign saying that the President and Vice-President must be removed, calling them 'fascists'. Another held one that read 'Women's rights are human rights', yet I'm quite sure she supports killing the unborn, a gross violation of the right to life. I wonder if she realizes that many of those murdered unborns would have been little girls?

I still don't understand what the issue is. Equal pay for equal work? Pretty sure that became federal law several decades ago, yet these feminist protesters skipped out on their jobs to protest for equal pay? As with the 'Day Without Immigrants', some of the protesters will find themselves unemployed for their troubles.

Feminists need to realize that Hillary Clinton lost the election because of her political stance and liberal sympathies...and not because she is a woman.

And as for equality? Just ask my wife who runs things here at Ram Field Ranch.

Monday Morning Musings

I made a mistake.

I own up to it but, unfortunately, it can't be undone. I apologized to the affected party and will take steps to ensure it doesn't happen again.

Ownership means not only taking credit for deeds well done but also those actions that have had a negative impact. I can blame no one but myself, the guy I see in the mirror while shaving.

Taking responsibility, or 'owning', an action nowadays is the exception rather than the rule. Too often we see or read daily of someone or some group blaming everyone but themselves for something they generated, offering outlandish excuses or turning a situation around to make it seem as if the 'other guy' emerged from an evil, cold, dark mist and committed an act for which there was a reaction they aren't responsible for.

Not so here. I am an imperfect person who sometimes makes mistakes; it's called being human. There's only been one man who has ever walked this earth that can be called a perfect being and you can read about Him in the bible.

                                                                *  *  *  *  *

I have a neighbor, Rod Mobley. Rod is a very humble, quiet guy who goes about his business  unobtrusively, never making waves or drawing attention to himself. He and his wife Lisa are fantastic people whom my wife and I are proud to call not only neighbors but friends.

Last week the News Journal ran a story about Rob and his passion: arm wrestling.  It was a well-written article, giving readers a glimpse of the man and those who gather in his garage every Sunday afternoon to practice their craft, an activity that fills his driveway and causes overflow parking in the high school parking lot.

If only I weren't sixty years old with arthritic shoulders and thumbs...

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Straight out of 'Kids Say The Darndest Things', I offer this exchange between myself and my grandson Butch, age 4. I pick him up every Tuesday from daycare; part of our routine is stopping at Tim Horton's for a donut on the way home.

"Papaw, when you and Mamaw go to heaven, I will come and see you." I have no idea where that came from, completely out of the blue.

Me: "Yes, you will someday."

After a long pause: "Papaw are there donuts in heaven?"

I love that little man.

                                                           

International Drug Trafficking Right Here At Home

'Mansfield Police were told by postal inspectors Thursday a package from China containing a controlled substance was beign shipped to an address in Mansfield...'

Shocking? Maybe. A new tactic? Hardly.

In this day and age of 'point-and-click' it is very easy to purchase drugs via the internet...and has been for some time now. Your son or daughter, brother, aunt, even your grandfather can surf the web, find a foreign outlet for percocent, xanax or whatever precription drug of their choice may be and have it shipped to their door with just a few keystrokes on a laptop.

Even marijuana, cocaine and heroin can be delivered by the US Postal Service, FedEx, DHL or UPS, using sophisticated packaging put together by a guy in China, Paraguay or any third-world country to mask its contents. The Drug Enforcement Agency, Customs and Border Protection, postal inspectors and a plethora of federal, state and local law enforcement agencies are scrambling daily to keep up with technology used by overseas traffickers in order to stem the flow of drugs into this country.

Years ago we had such a case in Lexington, that quiet bedroom community here in Richland county. We'd noticed short-duration traffic in and out of a residence in a rather upper middle-class residential area and did a little digging, using intelligence from an informant ( they're called 'cooperating individuals' now...'informant' was deemed to be a rather unflattering designation for persons giving information to police about crime and criminals ) and also utilized a simple, unsophisticated method to collect additional evidence of an active, ongoing crime occurring with some frequency at this particular house. We worked up a search warrant, got it signed by a judge and then rudely interrupted that household's evening when the tactical entry team swarmed through the house and secured the occupants.

Why did we use what's commonly called a 'SWAT' team? Well, you see, this 21 year old, living with his mother, her boyfriend and two younger sisters, had in his possession a fifty-caliber Desert Eagle hand-cannon, a tactical rifle and another handgun, and had been selling dope he'd bought over the internet right under the family's nose. The stuff was coming from a South American country under a phony pharmaceutical name and he was in possession of a large amount of pills and cash when the Boys in Black had knocked, ever so gently, on the front and back doors.

That same senario occurrs daily, multiple times, in these United States, as evidenced by the first paragraph; an entry that confirms the massive obstacles law enforcement faces when combatting the tsunami of overseas traffickers.

If you see something, say something. A house in your neighborhood gets multiple weekly deliveries from commercial carriers, followed by a lot of short-stay visitors? It may be nothing, but then again...

Unsung Hero

The word 'hero' can have different meaning to different people; for instance, my biggest hero growing up was my Dad. He wasn't an athlete or politician, he was never in the military, but he taught me values, morals and how to approach life. He worked two jobs a good part of my childhood and wasn't around a lot of the time because of it but, looking back now, he's an even bigger hero to me.

He did what he had to do in order to keep a roof over our heads, food on the table and clothes on our backs. If something broke at the house, chances were very good that Dad could fix it...and did. Dad's gone now, passing away in October of 2014 at the age of 88, and I miss him greatly.

Times have changed since my generation began its trek towards senior citizenship...and so has American society. In today's world, generally, two-income households are the norm rather than the exception. They have to be. It takes two wage-earners to provide a stable income for the family, one that allows for things such as cars for the young driver(s), college education(s) and all the latest, most current electronic personal entertainment devices: video gaming systems, cell phones, tablets...you get the idea.

Single-parent homes are commonplace as well. If you want to see the walking, talking definition of the word 'stress', try talking to a single parent having full custody of a child or children. Paying bills for basic needs such as rent, utilities, and transportation is tough enough; add in child care costs and college tuition and the task becomes almost insurmountable.

That brings me to a current personal hero of mine, one that works two jobs, goes to college and raises a child alone. Rent, utilities, insurance, car payment, tuition for higher education for herself, food, clothing and all the associated costs of raising a son...I can't imagine the stress in this young woman's life, yet she handles it with aplomb. My wife and I know very well how good of a mother she is because we have the privilege of calling her our 'adopted daughter', a gal we love very much; her son, Butch, calls Stacy and I Mamaw and Papaw, and he is one of the centerpieces of our lives.

My hero's name is Cassy Hetrick.