Christmas at Graceland

Bubbie is hard at work with some Christmas music playing in the background. It’s sad but Bubbie’s life has been so hectic that he can't even get his mind around the fact that Christmas is just around the corner. Deeply engrossed in his work he barely notices the moving music in the background. Then it comes over him like the warmth of a fire when coming in from a snowy day; it is Elvis. Bubbie stops and leans back to soak in the beautiful voice cascading from his speakers and it occurs to him; with all of the hype and absurdity, and irreverence of corny impersonators, he had a beautiful voice and most of the time, knew how to use it. God bless you Elvis, rest in peace.

A Visiting Daisy

It was a warm winter’s day; you know, one of those rare days when the sky is blue and cloudless and you can stay outside for just a short while in your shirt sleeves. Bubbie hadn’t planned to do much that day, but decided to take advantage of it and get some chores done. He knew he had to work fast because the days are short and before long the dusk will fall along with the temperature.

He hadn’t got too far along when his cousin Daisy stopped by for a visit. He was glad to see her and though he knew her visit would take away from his getting his chores done, he knew that spending time with her was more important in the long run, so he invited her to stay and spend some time.

After some cordial pleasantries and chit chat catching one another up about the latest news, Daisy jokingly mentioned that she might have something done with her hair. You see, she hasn’t had it cut in years and years, and her blonde locks are very long and thick but in Bubbie’s view, it seemed as though—to Daisy—it was much like Samson’s mighty mane. It was a symbol of her strength and independence. If pressed on the topic she’ll espouse a tenacious yarn of how she ain’t gonna have no one (uh, most likely her husband) tell her how she wears her hair, or how to do anything else and how a girl has gotta fight harder for everything in this world. Well, that got Bubbie to thinking.

There are some things that we believe are worth fighting for. We are so passionately bound to our principles that we’ll take anyone to the mat over them. What Bubbie is not mulling over whether you should or shouldn’t but how far do you take it? Do we ever take the time to assess our rationality for our beliefs? Do we consider the consequences of standing strong on an issue? If not, one may be perceived as being a stubborn person. On the other hand if you were to fight with an open mind, one might not have to fight at all.

Well Daisy didn’t stay long ‘cause she knew Bubbie had chores to finish; she is always thoughtful that way. Bubbie got back at it and finished most of what he started but the quandary of stubbornness stayed on his mind. He reckons that from now on he’ll try to consider is position when he feels his ire rising. He’ll try to take the time to look deeper into why he takes that position, for instance, is it morally right or a personal hurt that needs healing?

Oh Deer, Where Do We Go From Here?

It's hunting season and Bubbie has one deer carcass in the freezer and a tag left to fill. It's a long winter and a couple deer will help keep food on the table until the spring. Bubbie pauses because something is on his mind and it's a burden. He has been trying to refrain from expounding on political topics, but his view is clouded and he needs some help in understanding how we invaded a country, captured it’s leader, dismantled it’s army and yet we are losing the war?

The Iraq Study Group Report has been published and Robert Michael Gates, Ph.D. was confirmed as the 22nd United States Secretary of Defense on December 6, 2006, and is scheduled to be sworn in to that position on December 18. He’s replacing Rummy, who has failed, and during his confirmation hearing he agreed with the report and stated that “We are losing the war in Iraq.” Well, as refreshing as that is, it’s perplexing as well. It seems that Bubbie’s government is speaking in a language he can now understand, yet all they are saying is the obvious. What Bubbie hears is hindsight spoken as future tense. It’s all so strange.

He grabs his rifle and wanders off into the woods to do a little more hunting. The air is fresh and life still feels worth living.

Is It Me?

Have you ever asked yourself, “Is it me, or is the world a mess?” Don’t waste your time debating the answer—it’s you. I mean, of course the world is a mess; it’s the status quo. It is you because you are an individual. Your thoughts, morals, principles, values, and ethics give you a perspective that should be different than the rest of the world.

Bubbie has had a recent string of events that have left him disgusted, annoyed, and feeling like an alien in his own box. So it is Bubbie. He is different and should honor that.

The Ride

The autumn air was a temperate and as blue as the cobalt sky. You know this sky, this day, this ride that invokes dreamlike states, it instills yearnings and has a calming effect; it leads to a serious inward outlook. I rode an asphalt thread through the quilted fabric of mown hay fields with great harvest spun rolls waiting, just waiting. I thundered past fenced grazing horses and large colonies of browsing bovine and cut through a breeze of manure that ties me to every cowboy and farmer that ever was. I was here and everywhere; it was me and everyone that ever was.

Framing One’s Life

Bubbie’s view waxes nostalgic. He has been framing a new porch roof on the ol’ homestead. It has been more than half his life that he has been a carpenter, and though he has moved on in his vocation, he longs for the days when he saw a manifestation of hard labor at the end of a long day.
Sweet Pea had to walk out to the garage to throw some clothes in the dryer, so Bubbie walked out with her ‘cause he knows how she’s scared of the dark. The fall air was cool and fresh as Bubbie tilted his head back to breathe deep the autumn air. The smell of kiln dried pine wisped across his senses and he gazed upon the framing above his head. In a flash he recalls many a cool evening on the porch of his log cabin he built as a young man. He was young and so was his family. Through sweat and determination he nearly single handedly built the cabin in a holler on a mountain top in Newark Valley, New York. Many an evening in those days, he’d sit on the porch and looked at each piece and part of the wooden structure and recalled how he cut and fit each of them together. He was proud that he had crafted such a fine home for his wife and children; he was a man’s man. He dreamed of the day when he could share the love of his craftsmanship with his children so that they might have a glimpse of the capacity of his love for them. And now on his little porch so far from his NY cabin, he feels the same blood pump through his veins as his heart pines away.
He hears the slam of the dryer door as Sweat Pea emerges from the side garage door. She smiles sweetly and Bubbie sees her with his heart; the same sweet girl he loved all those years ago in the cabin on the hill.

Grassroots; Remember That?

How long can we go on? Republican, Democrat; Democrat, Republican, what is the difference? Our choices for “change” are slimy succubine sycophant of the sleazy thieves they support. The independent alternatives can’t afford to compete. From Bubbie’s view, the horizon is gray and cloudy, the prognostication ugly.

We need a new vision and a new plan for America and neither the Republicans nor Democrats can keep us as a world leader and superpower. We are running out of time.

There was a time when Americans would tolerate the scandles, corruption and lies and they would rise up and demand better. But it seems as though we—you and I—are too fat, too lazy, and too stupid to try. God save us all.

The Beat Down Beatle

Uncle Bubba has always been a fan of the Beatles. The group, not necessarily the individuals that made up the group; but as musician’s blending their individual talents, there are few better. You know, Bubbie has been known to pick a guitar of two in his day. Curiously, the songs of some of them Beatles mean more to the fans than their creators. In light of the recent messy headlines, Paul McCartney, in a war masquerading as a divorce with his not-soon-enough-to-be ex-wife Heather Mills should listen to a few of the old LPs:

Can't Buy Me Love

I'll buy you a diamond ring my friend if it makes you feel alright
I'll get you anything my friend if it makes you feel alright
Cause I don't care too much for money, and money can't buy me love

I'll give you all I got to give if you say you'll love me too
I may not have a lot to give but what I got I'll give to you
I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love

Can't buy me love, everybody tells me so
Can't buy me love, no no no, no

Say you don't need no diamond ring and I'll be satisfied
Tell me that you want the kind of thing that money just can't buy
I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love

Can't buy me love, everybody tells me so
Can't buy me love

Let It Be

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be

Courtesy of the Red White and Blue…

The ol’ black Ford rolls on towards the next rolling rise in the road as Toby Keith sings his patriotic anthem through the Delco in the dash:

Hey Uncle Sam
Put your name at the top of his list
And the Statue of Liberty
Started shakin’ her fist
And the eagle will fly
And its gonna be hell
When you hear Momma Freedom
Start ringin’ her bell
It’ll feel like the whole wide world is raining down on you
Ah brought to you Courtesy of the Red White and Blue…

Uncle Bubba smiles at the corny lyrics that stir so many. I guess that is the beauty of music and the arts; it transcends the artist, in this case an entertainer that is making his living potentially pretending to be something he may not. Oh sure he’s patriotic and I like that cause I am too; but what are his true beliefs? When he’s not Toby Keith the entertainer, who is he?

We put so much enthusiasm into blind ambition that Mr. Keith’s song stirs but do we put any thought into the effort it takes just to decide how we will fight our enemy? After September 11, 2001 we were all united and behind the President’s decision to take the fight to Osama in Afghanistan. Since that time however, we’ve had time to access the course that this fight has taken and where we can make some improvements. It’s no secret that Bubbie is fightin’ mad over the state of our boarders and our inept ability to secure them. Heck, as we keep hearing from our fear mongering leaders, we’re in a war! Sure, as Toby Keith’s songs allude to is the old school adage that a good offense is the best defense but in a war with sneaky terrorists, this doesn’t work so well. Kicking in doors with guns-a-blazin’ doesn’t work on a devious cave dweller.

We’ve had a 911 Commission recommend 41 urgent remedies to prevent another terrorist attack on our shores. (Most of which have not been addressed.)
“Recommendation: Targeting travel is at least as powerful a weapon against terrorists as targeting their money” (911 Commission Report, p. 385).

“Recommendation: The U.S. border security system should be integrated into a larger network of screening points that includes our transportation system and access to vital facilities, such as nuclear reactors. The President should direct the Department of Homeland Security to lead the effort to design a comprehensive screening system, addressing common problems and setting common standards with systemwide goals in mind. Extending those standards among other governments could dramatically strengthen America and the world's collective ability to intercept individuals who pose catastrophic threats” (911 Commission Report, p.387).
Department of Homeland Security spokesman Jarrod Agen claims that customs agents at the U.S.-Canadian border accept up to 8,000 different documents, often a birth certificate and driver's licenses that are prone to counterfeiting. The US Congress passed legislation to require anyone entering the country to have a passport that includes American citizens that leave the country on vacation and return home. The law--called the Western Hemisphere Travel Initiative--was passed in 2004 to tighten border security by limiting the number of documents U.S. Customs agents can accept was to take effect as of January 1 2006. Members of Congress, influenced by the tourism and travel agency lobbies are now retreating in their war on terror by crafting amendments that would delay implementation of the law until at least June 2009. How is that not an act of treasonous terrorism—sabotaging the abilities of our US Boarder Patrol and leaving our own national boarders open and unprotected?

Bubbie marvels at the beauty of the blue sky in contrast against the lush green tree line on the horizon. The sun beats down through the F-150 windshield and bakes the dashboard. Bubbie drives over the rise and breathes deep the smell of freshly cut hay as the road winds down among the large rolls of spun grass. He’s glad he lives in America. He’s thankful for the men and women of the Armed Forces that give so much so he and the rest of us can experience a blessed daily life.

Take action, write your Congress Person today.

The White Trashing of America

Bubbie has noticed a disturbing trend that has been slowly eroding the American society; the white trashing of America. He is not one to throw stones but he does know what he stands for; he puts women on a pedestal, loves and feels a responsibility to children, and honors the manly hierarchy. He fondly remembers having to take a freshman English class in summer school due to some marginal behavioral issues. The teacher was a big gruff authoritarian and at first the young Bubbie thought he found delight in torturing the maligned summer students, but remembers a statement that the behemoth bellowed one afternoon. He doesn’t recall the context of the lesson or the wording leading up to it, but he remembers the teacher saying emphatically, “No one owes you nothing but basic human respect!” And of course that’s what we owe others. That is what makes a healthy civilized society.

There was a time when the rube was a running joke. It was Junior Samples, Gomer Pile. It was a joke and everybody knew it. It’s the premise behind Hee Haw and the Blue Collar Comedy tour. But anymore it seems that Jeff Foxworthy and Larry the Cable Guy have become heroes instead of humorists and everyone else is a tattooed, beer drinkin’ badass (Yea, even the women). You can’t go anywhere anymore without being interrupted by tobacco chewing Nextel conversations, the F-bombings are rampant and aren’t we continually rudely cut off or tail gated in traffic by an oversized pickup with a Bush/Cheney bumper sticker. I can’t stand in line at the department store without out a thick necked, beer bellied, fishin’ shirt wearing oaf glancing fiercely at me as if he wants to spit a little beechnut in my eye. Never a smile or friendly hello; always a look up and down and a turning away of one’s oversized head. No one seems to know that you should politely hold a door open, or step aside and yield if a person approaches with their arms full. Have you noticed few people say “excuse me” anymore; I often get brushed by as though I don’t exist.

Is this our fate America? We can’t even be nice our respectful to one another anymore? Can’t I be an individual with my own thoughts and style? If you don’t get the joke because you’ve become it; it just not funny. I challenge you to pay attention to the state of our country and her volatile position in the world. We need to pull together and raise our standards to be the best country in the world. White trash is not chic, it’s trash, so let’s dispose of it and move ahead to a superior civilization. It starts within each of us.

It's never too late to change

Bubbie is recovering from a bout with pneumonia brought on by exhaustion. He slept the day away and was woken by Sweet Pea late in the afternoon to go to the doctor’s office. He laid there momentarily looking up into Sweet Pea’s beautiful green eyes and in a striking moment of clarity he realized that if this were the last day of his life, this would be the one thing he would regret; not taking enough time to look into these beautiful green eyes. All of the things that we think are important and need to be done really don’t amount to a hill of beans; it is the little things that we do for one another that matters most.

On the way home I passed a church that had a clever statement posted on their sign which read, “Spoil your spouse, not your children.” How many of us would have a better life by heeding that advice.

A Rube's View of World War 3

This is Bubbie’s view of a sad and serious matter in the world. It’s been 23 days since Hezbollah started lobbing missiles into Israel and I have not heard one so-called expert say that the biggest reason fundamentalist Muslim terror groups feel that that can do what hay want, when they want because we do not have the means to back our allies. The only thing that unites these terrorists and drives their actions is to kill Americans and Israelis. Unfortunately we are mired down in the war we started in Iraq and now, we can’t come to the aid of one of the few countries that is our friend. I only hope that someone in our government recognizes this and makes the necessary adjustments before violence spreads around the world.

Where's All The Good Ones?

Uncle Bubba is a man’s man. Yes, he believes that our purpose in life is to love God and your neighbor as yourself, and he is sensitive to the feelings of others, but there is a side to life that is inherent to an American man. This country was established by wild-eyed, independent thinking forefathers that were not afraid to jump on a horse and ride into battle. They settled matters with theirs fists or guns. We are a violent society by nature with peaceful hopes for our civilization and we value the right to bear arms and protect our property. Bubbie likes that. It’s a matter of freedom; it’s a matter of independence. As a friend of his points out, “I would never want to be mugged, but as a guy, I would love the opportunity to chase someone down and justifiably beat the crap out of somebody.”

Bubbie values honesty, integrity, hard work and the freedom to express oneself. He is kind and tries to be a friendly neighbor while minding his own business. He tries to be a courteous member of society whether driving in his ol’ pickup or checking out at the Piggly Wiggly. But a man by nature is competitive and aggressive and sees life as a hierarchical war.

There are some things in life worth fighting for and not just debating but actually picking up arms and physically fighting. That is the American spirit (not to be confused with the Holy Spirit). That is what we have always done and there is no reason to change as long as the motives are true.

Remember Your Big Brother

Uncle Bubba worries about the glossing over of current history and with it the lessons not yet learned. He says, “Because of the rapid pace of modern development we need to not only look at our history over the course of centuries to discern the repercussions of our choices, but look to recent times before it’s too late. When I say our history, I mean Man which transcends boarders and nations. We need to look at others successes and failures just as much as our own, because we are all of the entire human condition.

Anyway, here are some of the things that are eating away at the structure that makes our American nation. We are so concerned about our borders and we want to tighten up the holes so call in the National Guard. OK, it’s the department of the government that should be guarding our nation—it’s in their name--but if we couple that with the Patriot Act and the government’s collection of data, this really starts to resemble the former Soviet Union. We imagine our American soldiers patrolling the boarder with guns pointed towards Mexico and Canada, but once there, how easy is it for them to turn their guns toward us on the command of the Commander in Chief!

You see, I always felt uneasy about products like E-Pass, LoJack or OnStar; ya know, the car tracking devices. We don’t want microchips implanted in our bodies, but we’ll pay extra to have them in our vehicles for the sake of convenience. Do you know who is tracking your information on the other end? Me either, but the police have access to the information and they are a department of the government last I checked. Do you really want someone to know where you are every moment of the day? I don’t doubt that I sound paranoid to most, but that’s because this selling of insecurity is so mainstream anymore that heck; we’ve even reelected a lousy president because of it.

We’ve let the use of “security cameras” invade every nook of our public lives and are we all better off for it? Remember when the news used to report how invasive it was to our personal rights and everyone complained about it for a week or two, and then we got busy with other things and forgot about it. Now we are under surveillance at every turn and intersection, every store and parking lot, even walking down a sidewalk. Then what happened, with the use of facial recognition software everyday events became a police lineup. God forbid you go out for bagels and have physical characteristics of a criminal in their database; your life will be ruined trying to prove you’re not the dude.

You may say, “What’s the big deal? I’m not doing anything wrong.” Then why do you need to be tracked and scrutinized so closely? I thought this was a free country, meaning I can do what I want, when I want within the limits of the law and it’s nobody’s business but mine.

Well, you see now how just surfing the Internet can get you into a government database of potential trouble makers. Wanna educate yourself about the dangers of Al Qaeda, or learn about the Muslim religion? You’d better consider that accessing websites on topics such as these may one day bring the Feds through your door to take away your computer, all of your belongings, oh yeah, and you! Thanks to the Patriot Act you can be taken away to a place where no one will ever hear from you again. Does that sound like the former Soviet Union to you? Now DNA profiles will be added to the database. That’s the government potentially having a record of your genetic code. Man, that’s scary stuff.

It’s the erosion of our rights, our freedoms, our lives. We need protection from criminals and terror, but we need to be involved in the decisions that impact our lives. Just don’t become complacent and give up rights you will never get back. If I am right and we don’t take a few minutes everyday to consider the current past and the course of our future, and we are becoming very much like the former Soviet Union, or as some have said, the Roman Empire; remember this one thing, they eventually fell.”

Hold Your Peace

The sun rises on the horizon; Uncle Bubba flips down the sun visor on his pickup as he drives east to another day. His window is down and the radio is up, the breeze rushing in smells so good. Uncle Bubba knows one thing; he will make it to his destination safely. Why? Because he has faith that the Lord loves him. You see, Uncle Bubba lives his life in what he describes as God’s system. He says if you operate within the God’s system, then you will rise above this world’s destructive mire.

Uncle Bubba quotes Exodus 14:14, “The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.” So you see, I don’t have to worry about the destructive forces of this world, I only have to hold my peace. Now anyone who thinks that doesn’t work should try it for a few days before they denounce it. And if you think it’s easy…try it.

Americhina, The New World

There's President Bush lecturing the president of China about human rights. Now, granted, China has a very long way to go in granting freedom to its citizens, but who is President Bush to lecture anybody about human rights?

• The Patriot Act
  
• Abu Ghraib
• Guantanamo
• Prisoners being sent to other countries for interrogation
• Allegations of torture
• Enemy combatants being held indefinitely
• Without being charged or being given access to a lawyer
• Wiretapping Americans' telephones without a warrant
• In clear violation of the law that says you have to have one.
• Datamining Americans' records
  
• The core of this effort is a little-known system called Analysis, Dissemination, Visualization, Insight, and Semantic Enhancement (ADVISE). Only a few public documents mention it. ADVISE is a research and development program within the Department of Homeland Security (DHS)
  
• Neglect of Katrina victims

Perhaps the good Christian Brother Bush forgot that line from the bible, "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone."

Where the heck is the cavalry?

In the great debate over immigration, it’s interesting that one doesn’t hear anything from the immigration department. Why is that? I looked them up online and found that they are a sub agency of the Department of Homeland Security. They are now called the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement or ICE. OK, let’s not lump them into the same inept messy chaos of FEMA and the rest of DHS, let’s look at them objectively.


This is Julie L. Myers, the top dog of ICE--maybe that’s a poor choice of words—she is the Assistant Secretary of Homeland Security for U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Prior to her appointment by President Bush on Jan. 4, 2006, Ms. Myers served as Special Assistant to the President for Presidential Personnel. OK, stop laughing. Before that, she was nominated by President Bush and unanimously confirmed by the United States Senate to serve as Assistant Secretary for Export Enforcement at the Department of Commerce. Yes, that’s right; she supervised an agency that ensures the legal export of products; not IMPORT but EXPORT. I didn’t know that this was a problem. And this makes her qualified to guard our boarders from the intrusion of illegal immigrants, criminals and terrorists. Don’t get me wrong, she may be (just look at that steely glare) and she may be a nice person; but this administration just seems to have a bad track record when it comes to appointing supervisors in DHS.

So that takes me back to my original thought, where the heck is ICE on this issue. Well, actions speak louder than words; I was speaking to a person who is employed at a county Sheriff’s office yesterday and they told me that if they stop an illegal immigrant for a traffic stop, they give them a citation like anyone else and let them go. I did not know that! I thought they took them to jail and held them until ICE shows up and carts them back across the boarder! The same person told me that if I knew I had illegals living in a house next door and called ICE to come get them that they wouldn’t show up. I asked why and they said because they don’t care (meaning ICE). Well, I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s not a stretch to believe. It just seems that there is enormous variable missing from the debate equation. Let’s ask the people that do the work how the job should be done.

Hank Jr.'s Censor-tive Subject

The magical glow of the cathode ray illuminates the dark room as Hank Jr. and Kid Rock crooned center stage during Hank’s Outlaw concert on CMT. Uncle Bubba smiles and turns up his surround sound and imagines he was hanging out with the other lucky fans in the audience. Heck, it ain't like a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert of the 70's, but their having a good time and it's pretty entertaining.

Bubbie’s view of country music has diminished over the past twenty years; raised on southern rock with a pension for country sound of the 60’s and 70’s, today’s brand is commercialized crap. Sadly the faithful fans of Hank Sr., Merle, Willie and Waylon, George Jones, Conway Twitty and Loretta Lynn, Johnny Cash and so on, they’re long gone. It was a different time, a slower more innocent time when loyalty to substance over style meant something. Talent came from the heart and the vocal chords and not from one’s appearance because music was played on the radio or record player. Music was listened to, and watching an entertainer meant seeing them live in concert, not watching a video.

Bubbie takes swig of his drink and notices a strange apparition on the TV—I mean aside from the Hank Jr. dancing. Do y’all know the Trucker Girl? She’s the chrome silhouette on the mud flaps of tractor trailers.
Hank has an enormous Trucker Girl hanging as a backdrop on the stage and CMT has fuzzed out the nipple area of her breast! Dude, it’s fake! It’s a chrome silhouette of a woman; that’s obscene and offensive? And what did CMT think they were getting when they booked the Outlaw concert. Bubbie shakes his head then as he straightens his ball cap and thinks about his $120 cable bill and wonders why he’s paying so much for censored entertainment.

Illegal chaos

I wrote an email to my Congressperson and Senators about this rediculous immiration bill that our government is try to pass and you can too. Go to http://www.house.gov/writerep as well as http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm and you may even cut and paste my letter below or use any portion of it and let them know that this legislation is bad for the country.

"Please vote down the immigration bill that grants amnesty to illegal immigrants. We are a nation of laws and need to keep a high standard to protect our great country of legal citizens. This is a travesty for our country and an insult to millions of immigrants who have come before sacrificing so much time, effort, and money to do things the legally.

Illegal immigrants care nothing about our laws and one cannot seriously believe that they will jump through all of the legal hoops and subject themselves to our laws and our system to comply with this newly proposed bill. The only people who benefit from this will be companies that hire illegal’s now. This is a complex issue which the citizens of this country, not just the corporations, should have a voice in because the current course is a recipe for disaster for our country as a whole.

Please vote no."

Thank you

Boogity, Boogity, Boogity!

Uncle Bubba settled into his favorite spot in front of the TV in anticipation of the NASCAR race at Bristol. Having an hour or so before the action started, Bubbie was channel surfing and stopped on a man, Andras Schiff playing Chopin. He seemed to be playing entirely without sheet music in front of him and Bubbie noticed an interesting thing, he glanced at the keys while transitioning his hands into position then glanced at the next position while striking the preceding notes. He wasn’t looking at what he was playing but looking ahead in anticipation of the next note to be played. That’s were we all should be in our lives.

School of Hard Knocks

Uncle Bubba figured he needed some more learnin’ to get right with today’s technology. He’d been working, doing hard labor most of his life, and he could see that it was no way to grow old and reckoned he’d better get right for a change. After looking into his limited options, he enrolled in a prestigious online university. Now, anyone who thinks that getting a degree via an online institution is a piece of cake better think again. It’s a rigorous fast paced, no holds barred education. Anyway, Bubbie, always being the rebel, still has a hard time coping with the agenda of organized accredited education.

Let me expound; one pays an enormous amount of money to learn something one doesn’t know and the methods to apply the newly learned material. Sounds about right. But what’s really going on? There is a time table that must be stringently adhered to and within that time one must choose; do I learn why something is, or how to do it, because there is no time to do both. The accreditation that we all crave dictates that we learn certain amount of useless material, limiting the amount of precious time, holding true to being counter to common sense. Hey, it’s just like the American way of governing.

The stress of this is compounded by the bobble-headed instructor whom brings to class their individual whacky loads of personal baggage and judgmental attitudes. It seems that they are more interested in getting their students to jump through hoops than help them understand the material being presented, and of course their lack of elucidation is under the guise of their method of teaching. Yea… right. Their whim of floating criteria, the moving target of grading, can ruin ones GPA with every mood swing. Like more government guidelines, everything is open to one’s interpretation; you know the one, the one who is in charge. I’m paying tens of thousands of dollars to be judged. Great! So I’m being taught how to play nice and get along with others, the same thing I learned in kindergarten. But hey, at least I’ll have a degree that says to the world, “Hire me! I know what I’m doing!”

Well, I could go on and on but I have homework to do. I’ll chat with you later.

What Kind of Friend Are You?

Bubbie’s sister, Carrie, stopped by for a cup-a-Joe and a visit and told him about having some work done on her home. She was having a new shower installed and was very pleased with the way that it was turning out. In the course of the conversation she talked about how certain friends of hers always have a comment that goes something like, “That’s a very nice shower, but I would have done this to make it just a little bit better.” Bubbie sympathized with her realizing that he discounts those types as friends, well, true friends anyway. You know the type, always chipping away at one’s joy with “helpful” comments about how one could do something better. After considering it even more he realized that that is why he doesn’t have more true friends, because no one can ever just say, “That’s great, I’m happy for you,” and leave it at that. A true friend doesn’t try to improve you or question your tastes, they accept that the things you do and the way that you do them are right for you.

Bubbie turned that around and looked at himself; does he bite his tongue for the sake of harmony? Does he try to impose his sense of the “right way”? Bubbie is human and we all do it, but over the course of a lifetime he has learned that in the choice to be right or kind, always choose kind.

Thanks Jorge

To quote our fearless leader, "illegal immigrants do what US citizens won'’t"”; like spreading Tuberculosis, along with cholera, smallpox, yellow fever, hemorrhagic fevers, SARS, and influenza with potential for pandemic. Of course under this current administration there must be no issue of sharing strains of dengue, chickenpox, AIDS/HIV, hepatitis and measles either.

I'’ve heard the argument that we are all immigrants, or the sons or grandsons of immigrants; well I'm not an immigrant, I was born here. My great-grandparents were legal immigrants. We hear so much about how difficult it is to be an illegal immigrant, how about all the tension, desire, heartbreak, fortitude and hardwork it takes to be a legal immigrant; now that's difficult. This is my country and I love living here with all of its advantages and safety. I feel sorry for citizens of under-developed third world countries but I don'’t want illegal immigrants in my country. We are expected to follow the rules so we should expect those who want to participate in our country to do the same; it all seems pretty simple to me.

Thanks George, for putting us first and protecting us on all fronts.

What happened?

Uncle Bubba and Sweet Pea took a little trip for a fun weekend get away. They finished work on Friday and packed a few things, Uncle Bubba carried the bags out to the car, opened the door for Sweet Pea and she hopped into the car, turned up the radio and they drove off down the open road. They had hotel reservations so they were in no hurry, just enjoying the company of one another, the scenery and the ride. Through the course of the ride Uncle Bubba noticed that most people on the road drive with the intention of getting ahead. Ahead of what? Whatever is in front of them. Have you noticed it; no one can just ride along, they have to be applying pressure whether tailgating waiting for the first opportunity to get around the person in front of them or cruising past in the left lane of a four lane to beat everyone to the exit. What ever happened to common courtesy?

Now Bubbie and Sweat Pea had a wonderful weekend of relaxation, good food and a little dancing; but what could have made it better? Common courtesy. From the rude drivers to the discourteous desk jockey at the hotel, a waitress that was obviously having a breakdown and was unconcerned with serving anyone--consumed with her personal crisis--and just generally boorish others. Uncle Bubba is amazed at how seldom a person will hold a door for another, use manners in public like “please” and “thank you”, and the prevalent use of cursing vulgar language in the company of women, senior citizens and children.

Is this the course of a modern society or a reversion to a more uncivilized culture? I’ll tell ya what Bubbie told me; there was a time when he got a smack on the back of the head if he forgot his manners; a mouthful of soap for an ill timed expletive. He remembers a little old lady chastising him in public for not holding the door for her. He remembers learning how to drive and being lectured about keeping a safe distance around other drivers, being defensive and courteous to avoid accidents. He remembers his chest bursting with pride when he impressed his first girlfriend on their first date for his skills as a gentleman. Ah yea, that’s it, the contentment of self respect.

If a person hasn’t any self respect, how can they respect anyone else? Could this be the core of rude behavior? Are we living in an impolite society as a result of 25 or 30 years of children being raised in homes with two working parents, broken homes, step families, and deadbeat dads? Not taking anything away from some wonderful single mothers, but if no one is around to express positive reinforcement of values and instill a child’s sense of value, how do they learn self respect? Now these unskilled adults, acting more like grown children are raising their own children.

So Uncle Bubba and Sweet Pea made it back home with some wonderful memories because they chose to focus on each other and forget about the less pleasurable moments, and happily look forward to their next journey. Uncle Bubba opened the door for Sweet Pea, carried in the bags and thanked her for the good time.

Utopia's slipping away

Uncle Bubba takes a deep breath of fresh air and closes his eyes. He rests his head against the back of his Adirondack chair. He listens to the rustling of leaves as the breeze gently flips them on the trees, and the song birds chirping across the way. A mullet jumps and turns its belly to the sun before splashing back into the green river and Bubbie smiles considering just how lucky he is to live in this time and place. It seems to be a vanishing utopia in the South because of the greed of our government leadership.

Parted face down on Bubbie’s knee is a book, Two Trees in the Garden by Rick Joyner that has got him considering the state of our country, society and the earth. It seems that the political climate today is to minister fear on a disingenuous moral and religious theme to win votes, and that comes from the top down, as most mud flows in a hierarchical system. Yep, right down to our local elected officials that allow every square inch of property to be developed including the swamplands with no regard for the limited available resources to supply an adequate and acceptable infrastructure. “Just keep those tax bases growing and we’ll deal with it the best we can,” seems to be the mantra to keep the new and ever expanding constituents happy.

There are two types of leaders; those who use people for their own interests and those who sacrifice themselves for the interests of the people. Aren’t the former the reason we distrust our politicians? Are you tired of politicians stroking us with their pseudo theology? We hate to think about it, but we all know that if it comes down to us or them they will sell us out. People who follow God with their hearts are people that are called to be he servants of all men, but men are not to be our masters. We must be willing to give our lives for men but not to be controlled or influenced by them.

The greatest opposition to the success and security of this country is not the evil terrorists but the phony Christian, morally righteous leaders. The uttermost threat to the truth will always come from those who live unmitigated in their minds but not in their hearts. In the supreme example of this phenomenon; recall that it was not the demon processed terrorists that persecuted Jesus, they believed him, bowed a knee and submitted to him; the religious, moral, and conservative citizens were the people who crucified Jesus.

Regardless of the choices our elected officials make that we will all live by, the breeze will blow and flip the leaves, the song birds will chirp from across the way, and the sun will warm your face on a lazy afternoon. But will it feel the same in your heart?

Let's ride!

As you may or may not know, Uncle Bubba gets around. Just the other day he saddled his hawg and set out for wherever the road might lead. That’s the beauty of the South; one can ride this time of year without fear of frostbite. Anyway, after a eating up a long straight stretch of highway Bubbie rolled into a small town and gassed up. Across the street was the Homestead restaurant--a full service restaurant—with the parking lot full of pickup trucks. With few options and a hungry belly, Bubbie rode over and went in for a bite to eat.

Right from the start Uncle Bubba was a marked outsider. All eyes were on him as he made his way through the old building to find an empty table. There was a lunch buffet that appeared to be the main attraction for the locals, but Uncle Bubba was traveling light, so after finding a seat in the corner, he asked the young waitress for a sweet iced tea and a menu. She returned with the iced tea in a dirty glass and a smile as she flopped a greasy menu on the table in front of him. It didn’t take Bubbie long to pick out a grouper sandwich off of the short list of choices through the smashed crumbs and fingerprints. Eying his tea he surmised that it must be dish soap residue that clouded the clear plastic glass, or at least he hoped so, so he gave’er a sip. He glanced sheepishly around the room at the proletariat that surrounded him. There were family clans, related kin and their confederation or in other words most people seemed to know one another. He noticed that the fella seated to his right didn’t have a left ear. To his defense it didn’t look as though it had ever been there, and Uncle Bubba considered how hard his life must have been to live life with a defect such as that, whether he lost it or never had it. Had he lived without it as a child? Oh, how cruel children can be. He reckoned that nearly every time he visited this region he came across at least one person with a missing body part and wondered, “What’s with that?”

Uncle Bubba’s waitress finally returned and he placed his order. To his surprise she rebounded quickly with a grouper sandwich, dill spear and a side of coleslaw. About that time three thick necked men took command of everyone’s attention as they made their way to a table next to Uncle Bubba. One had on a sheriff’s uniform and shook hands as he lumbered through the maze of tables; the other two in plain clothes bore more resemblance to bulldogs than men and with less personality. The chairs creaked as they sat down and Uncle Bubba noticed, as I’m sure everyone else did, that they all were packing heat. Do you need a pistol at a buffet? Is that considered a working lunch? I noticed the dirty boys from the tire shop sitting across the room eyeballing the lawmen with distain and had settled down from flirting with the young waitress. Yea, the life had been sucked out of the room and it was time for Uncle Bubba to settle up and get back on his hawg and ride. He waited at the cashier counter behind a man that was wearing a bright green T-shirt said FEMA (fix everything my ass) on the back in big white letters; grinned, paid his bill and made his way back out to the fresh air and sunshine.

Uncle Bubba cranked that marvel of American made steel to life and rode on but mulled the subtleties of the social interactions back in the restaurant. That’s America--the core of who we are; not the rich social elite that infuriates us in the news headlines, but the working class folks of small towns that are just trying to survive with some dignity and happiness. As Uncle Bubba winds out in fifth gear he feels a blog coming on. Yep, he needs to share his thoughts.

What's eating you?

Uncle Bubba is lucky enough to live where a short drive in nearly any direction takes him past rolling vistas of grazing bovine. At this time of year the black, brown and brindle statues decorate the olive and harvest tan pastures as the old grey bones of the trees, bent from the weight of time, stand watching.

Did you ever wonder about a cow? What do they think? What do they know? Are they contented to graze—unthinking, responding to an instinctual urge--or do they feel overworked and see the pasture as an endless job like 1850’s slaves in a cotton field? Do they tire of the endless nibbling, masticating, chewing and chewing? I can imagine them thinking, "I'd love to take a break, my hoves are killing me, but I've got this whole pasture to keep mowed down!"


I’ve asked people who in my opinion would have the authority to know, and the general consensus is the cows don’t think much at all; they aren’t too smart. I tend to value that thread of thought, yet I see the one way off in the distance, alone in the pasture, separated from the herd; what is she thinking? Or how about the one that forgoes the tiny grass shoots and strains, stretching its neck through what must be painful barbed wire to nibble at a roadside bush? Has that cow decided that there is more to life than following the herd and taking the easy way out?

Maybe they don’t think much and aren’t very bright, or maybe they just don’t care. Perhaps being in a herd of like creatures with the same mundane lives and no real desire or ambition to rise above they’re situation is enough. Maybe they’ve been cow for so long that they have been conditioned into thinking that they have only to rely on the men that oversee them. After all, the farmer and the rancher know what’s best for them; feeding them and giving them shelter, free vaccinations and veterinarian visits. They allow them to forage freely in vast green pastures and are nice enough to put up fences to keep out predators (isn't that why those fences are there?). At ease and fat; why question their authority? It’s not like they’d lead us, I mean them to a slaughter.

Dear Sweet Pea

Dear Sweet Pea,

I was thinking about how we are each born perfect, an unblemished spirit that is clean and new; and I was considering the purpose of that spirit. Is it the challenge of sorting through life with all its pleasures and atrocities, you know, if you get to the other end and die at a ripe old age you win; or is it more of a spiritual experience meant to exist in peace and rise above the worldly events? In other words, is the journey of life to conquer the ego or to study it? Either way it intrigues me that we associate our identity with the projections of parents, siblings, friends and acquaintances in our early formative, and most influential years. These assessments are monikers labeling their interpretation of our traits and characteristics. Unable to view ourselves objectively, we inevitably wear that image appointed to us. Over time our self-perception becomes blurred and we feel inner turmoil from reconciling our appointed labels with calling of our own soul.

What are these traits that others focus on? They may be the way we react to circumstances. They may be our appearance or our affinity to colors and style. They may be the inflections of our voice and our preference for sleep. Anything that measures us as humans within the scope of our particular social surroundings considered to be the norm. However, remember that every separate environment carries its own set of standards; so what is a norm in one region may be seen as obscure in another. This illustrates the ridiculousness of trying to “fit in” in social situations in general.

Our associated, projected identity creates a dichotomy in the human spirit that causes a split of extremes in order to create a balance, an equilibrium that allows us to function in society. This balance is basically narcissistic in nature and the varying degrees of common unpleasantness depend on one’s personality. Subsequently, one subconsciously ploughs through events behaving as trained, yet fights one’s self internally to the true principles of one’s own spirit. We sublimate the primitive calling of our heart and alienate our connection with the universal spirit. In other words, through denial and diversion we keep ourselves dumb. If we can keep ourselves distracted with the petty thoughts and events of everyday life, we never have to answer to that deeper calling of our soul.

Some examples may be a person can be very sensitive emotionally yet fiercely determined, or morally weak yet very ritualistic so they find a way to manage, but it’s day-by-day, minute-by-minute. More often than not these dichotomies manifest themselves physically in our bodies. A person may suppress the chastisement in youth for being too thin by caring extra weight as an adult. A shy person may act out in outrageous or inappropriate outbursts; of course because the cause is buried within the subconscious, the shy person doesn’t realize, recognize or take responsibility for their outrageous behavior. Likewise, the overweight person can diet forever and remain overweight because they don’t recognize the source of there condition. Until they reconcile the hurt, as in our example caused by teasing, they will care the emotional baggage, literally on them.

An interesting aside to this is the industry of our society for those of us fortunate enough to afford it, are cosmetology, and cosmetic surgery. We can now change every aspect of our genetically inherited traits from hair and eye color to gender. I think the only thing we can’t change yet is skin color, but I ‘d be will to bet there is someone working on it at this very moment. Still these are just physical remedies masking emotional issues that are easier and faster, but are the way of the world today.

At some point in our lives it seems it would be beneficial to listen to that inner voice that has been nagging at us; that feeling of unexplained grouchiness, that arises from being unacquainted with your heart. Every moment of every day it beckons to us to pay attention but heeding it is easier said than done, however this is where the answer to your true purpose lives. So when you peel away the layers of the identity associated with you by your environment, who is revealed? Perhaps that’s to daunting to face at first, and the fear of facing that has stopped many from attaining their spiritual awakening yet we must have courage to follow that voice. Yes, voice. When you realize that you can hear your own spirit communicating with you, you get a hint that you are not in this alone. You are connecting to the universe. You’ll start to learn that the soul does not see people, only other souls; that you are connected to every living thing, plants, insects, earth, as well as the creator.

This opens the door to some very interesting thoughts. In searching for your purpose, or the course of your journey, you don’t necessarily need to change friends, or professions or move from your home. It’s bigger than that because it’s an infinite well of abundance waiting for you, an each and every one of us, to discover on the inside of yourself. It’s not about sacrificing your belongings or financial security because we are in this world to live, comfortably. How? With love. Perhaps the journey is studying the ego as well as conquering it. At every level the horizon gets wider yet not so far away. You realize that the same ocean, when touching many shores changes name, yet it is still the same ocean. The earth is small and round and loves us all. Life on this earth for us is short. Most importantly is that I have you, my wife, my lover, my spiritual sister, my friend, my partner, to share this life with. I am a part of your journey as you are a part of mine so we are one in the same separated by a microscopic electrical charge. I love you.

Bubbie

National Disasters

I was in Gainesville Florida this morning, waiting to meet someone for work. I was admiring the quaint old architecture of the surrounding buildings as well as the spring breeze on the air. I leaned against brick wall that had a patch of sun shining on it and took a few deep breathes. I turned to find a copy of a local paper, the independent florida alligator, Volume 99, Issue 102 sitting, disheveled on top of a metal newspaper box. The page 2 headline jumped out at me, “About 1,000 acres of Ocala National Forest to be sold.”

“WHAT?” I thought. That doesn’t seem right. Who (authoritatively) could make that decision and why?

Well, as it turns out Dub-ya, that’s who! Yessir, the President is selling about 200,000 acres of National forest land to try to raise $800 million to fund a national act that pays for schools and roads.

Now Uncle Bubbie is for less government and less taxes for sure, but when our leaders grandstand on tax cuts and sell OUR land out from under us, well, that just ain’t right. Hell, if that doesn't make us upset maybe we don't deserve it anyway.

Oh, speaking of things you never hear about, did you know the Mexican military has regularly crossed our boarders in recent years and attacked our boarder agents? It’s true, look it up. Isn’t that an act of war?

Oh and another thing…

The Day After

Uncle Bubba pulls his fiddle down from the shelf and softly renders Ashokan Farewell from her woody soul. Ah, what a night we had, playing a raucous bluesy brand of rock-n-roll with not one but two visits from the Citrus County Sheriff's Clown Patrol. We may have made the neighbors mad, but I reckon they were mad before we got to it. Too bad for them cause they could have joined us for some good food, good music and fine company.

But now it's the day after and the sweet sound of the old violin winds down the morning laughter over coffee of the silly things that were said and the carryings on of some exotic dances round the campfire. The quiet of the early afternoon wraps around me and Sweet Pea and since the mess has been picked up and dishes have been washed it’s time for a meal of warmed leftovers and a nap.

Life is Good.