As the clock clicks down on 2016, perhaps Uncle Bubba's most challenging year, he looks forward into the new year with joyful anticipation. He already knows one resolution that he is going to try and incorporate into his life style and it's easily remembered by the adage, "To waste one’s own time is foolish — to waste others’ is stealing." His intention is to be brisk. In doing so he can efficiently accomplish more in less time, which he knows will require him to be more direct; this will be a challenge. Bubbie believes in being active and cheerful as a lifestyle and anyone who spends time with him would agree. But if y'all know Bubbie he doesn't rest on his laurels, he's always seeking a new way to do things better and to be a better person so it doesn't surprise me that he is already looking to make positive changes to his future. In Bubbie's view the world will be a better place when we all take personal responsibility to be better, active, cheerful people.
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas! We hear this every year and for Christians, it is a reminder to celebrate the birth of our Lord. But over time and in this sped up world of impatience and intolerance the idea of Christ made manifest in Jesus is wiped from our minds like a leaf, swirling, sucked down into a spiraling backwater eddy at the edge of the world's commercial river, a torrent of glitz and greed. It's at the devil's pleasure that we argue about the expression of Merry Christmas, which distracts us from the reason behind saying it in the first place; aren't we all fools for falling into this trap. We attempt to prove our Merry Christmas righteousness by piling on the gifts and presents to those we feel obligated to provide. We worry about the size of the pile of painstakingly and begrudgingly wrapped presents under the tree for little ones indifferent to quantity.
This year, Uncle Bubba and Sweet Pea are spending the Christmas season a little differently, taking care of people that are in need. They are forgoing major, commercial gift-giving in lieu of giving of themselves in service to others. Not for any recognition, not for any personal gain, not to impress a single soul, but to honor their Lord--a God who gave us the gift of his Son who serves us.
John 3:17, For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.
In Bubbie's view, he hopes that everyone gets more than what they deserve for Christmas; and Merry Christmas!
Thursday, November 10, 2016
Election Hangover
Now that election day is getting smaller in the rear-view mirror, Uncle Bubba is beginning to digest the results. As we sat at his kitchen table and shared in a couple cups of hot coffee he shared with me that he finds it interesting how angry people are whose candidate didn't win. Ironic as it is, they are quick to use name calling, finger pointing, and derogatory language to express their disappointment. He said that he has one question for these patriots; did they participate in any campaign; i.e, knocking on doors, phone calls, town hall meetings, conventions, contributing to advertising, putting up signs, etc? If so, they have a right to be disappointed and we should respectfully grant them the grace to recover from their election hangover. If not, they should accept the majority vote of our society and be a good and faithful citizen. In Bubbie's view, don't be the thing you're accusing all others of being.
Peace out!
Peace out!
Monday, October 10, 2016
Take Up Your Cross
Uncle Bubba was driving on the busy interstate when he came up on an old camper trailer in the slow lane. He slowed and looked for the traffic to do the same behind him, all the while surmising that the white vintage canned ham was rattling along as fast as the owners dare tow it. As he closed in on it he noticed a hand painted sign affixed to it's rear bumper.
Uncle Bubba followed it for a short while before waiting for a safe opening in the traffic to pull around and pass. He pulled along side the pickup truck that was towing the camper and he glanced over at the driver. She was a white haired woman. It was cropped short and there was a senior gentleman sitting in the passenger's seat wearing a cowboy hat. They looked to be the type of people that you'd like to spend an hour or two with, just to hear their stories.
But it was the sign that struck Bubbie. "For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" While he had been traveling along with his trusted friend and beloved dog Frankie by his side, he had been mulling over some old relationships and lamenting the twists and turns of worldly ways. How sad that so many choose to seek after themselves and live to their own justification, ignoring the urging of their soul. As Bubbie glanced in his rearview mirror and watched the little caravan get smaller as he pulled away he was thankful that he chose to stick with his soul and thankful for the folks that cared enough to attach the sign to their camper. He reached over and patted Frankie on the head. In Bubbie's view we can justify all of our behavior but our ideas are just that... ours; all the more reason to base our behavior on God's word and save our souls.
Uncle Bubba followed it for a short while before waiting for a safe opening in the traffic to pull around and pass. He pulled along side the pickup truck that was towing the camper and he glanced over at the driver. She was a white haired woman. It was cropped short and there was a senior gentleman sitting in the passenger's seat wearing a cowboy hat. They looked to be the type of people that you'd like to spend an hour or two with, just to hear their stories.
But it was the sign that struck Bubbie. "For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" While he had been traveling along with his trusted friend and beloved dog Frankie by his side, he had been mulling over some old relationships and lamenting the twists and turns of worldly ways. How sad that so many choose to seek after themselves and live to their own justification, ignoring the urging of their soul. As Bubbie glanced in his rearview mirror and watched the little caravan get smaller as he pulled away he was thankful that he chose to stick with his soul and thankful for the folks that cared enough to attach the sign to their camper. He reached over and patted Frankie on the head. In Bubbie's view we can justify all of our behavior but our ideas are just that... ours; all the more reason to base our behavior on God's word and save our souls.
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Death Of Shame
"Personal integrity!" Uncle Bubba yelled in his enthusiasm of his story telling. "Remember when your mama would say, 'You should be ashamed of yourself'? Probably not because that's a danged lost expression."
I told Bubbie that I couldn't recall the last time that I've heard that expression used but I'd like to think that it's because I've lived a life of personal integrity and behaved in such a way as to not warrant such a reprimand.
"Yea, that's the way y'all outta be," said Bubbie, "but the way things are today, people publish their trash online for the whole world to see. What they should be ashamed of they twist into a humble brag."
Uncle Bubba was upset because he had been doing business with someone and he thought that they had more or less a gentleman's agreement on the terms of that business. Uncle Bubba had known this person for years and they had spent many hours discussing honor and truth, and commiserating over the fact that things aren't what they used to be; like when a person's word was their bond. Yet now the deal that they shook hands on had broken down and Uncle Bubba was left holding the bag. It's a common story really. If the person comes out on the winning end they say, "It's just business." but if they come out on the losing end then it's a travesty of justice. Too often the "It's just business" person is used to robotically repeating that well rehearsed line, they're used to taking what gains they might accrue and moving on. But this time it was a little more personal than that to Bubbie; the money wasn't much but this was a broken trust.
"I know that," Bubbie barked, "I know about business but the man should have been ashamed."
When Uncle Bubba was a youngster, he had a good friend named Johnny. Johnny was a year younger than Bubbie and a grade behind in school. This meant that Bubbie attended high school one year prior to Johnny showing up and that meant that he had older friends, school friends, the friends from classes and sports, kids he'd hang out with in the halls between classes and go to lunch with. The following year when his good friend Johnny arrived at the high school, things didn't go so well. For whatever reason Bubbie's school friends didn't like Johnny. They teased him and ignored him, which left Bubbie in a precarious predicament; should he be a good friend to Johnny or go along with his school peers?
"I ain't proud of it." Bubbie declared. "I tried to burn the candle at both ends. I hung around with Johnnie outside of school because we were really close friends but then I kinda ignored him in school to hang out with my other friends. It was a hard lesson."
Johnny was crestfallen by the betrayal of his best friend. He stopped trying to hang out with Bubbie and ignored him back. He went so far as to avoid him at every turn. Bubbie felt lower than a tick on a snakes belly. He eventually gave into his conscience and asked Johnny for his forgiveness and chose his friendship above the peer pressure of his schoolmates.
"I was ashamed to death." said Bubbie. "I know that that's an expression ya never hear either but that lesson changed my life. I learned about having integrity and doing right even when it might have been the hardest thing to do."
In mid-life Johnny passed away and went to be with the Lord far too early. But Uncle Bubba never had to live with the regret of having abandoned his friend. They had many great times together; times they never would have had if Bubbie had only thought of himself. In Bubbie's view, it's the death of shame that's eroded our moral fabric like moths in a linen closet. We should be giving, thoughtful people and if we slip and fall into the snares of the devil then keep our integrity, get up, shut up, and turn things around before it's too late.
I told Bubbie that I couldn't recall the last time that I've heard that expression used but I'd like to think that it's because I've lived a life of personal integrity and behaved in such a way as to not warrant such a reprimand.
"Yea, that's the way y'all outta be," said Bubbie, "but the way things are today, people publish their trash online for the whole world to see. What they should be ashamed of they twist into a humble brag."
Uncle Bubba was upset because he had been doing business with someone and he thought that they had more or less a gentleman's agreement on the terms of that business. Uncle Bubba had known this person for years and they had spent many hours discussing honor and truth, and commiserating over the fact that things aren't what they used to be; like when a person's word was their bond. Yet now the deal that they shook hands on had broken down and Uncle Bubba was left holding the bag. It's a common story really. If the person comes out on the winning end they say, "It's just business." but if they come out on the losing end then it's a travesty of justice. Too often the "It's just business" person is used to robotically repeating that well rehearsed line, they're used to taking what gains they might accrue and moving on. But this time it was a little more personal than that to Bubbie; the money wasn't much but this was a broken trust.
"I know that," Bubbie barked, "I know about business but the man should have been ashamed."
When Uncle Bubba was a youngster, he had a good friend named Johnny. Johnny was a year younger than Bubbie and a grade behind in school. This meant that Bubbie attended high school one year prior to Johnny showing up and that meant that he had older friends, school friends, the friends from classes and sports, kids he'd hang out with in the halls between classes and go to lunch with. The following year when his good friend Johnny arrived at the high school, things didn't go so well. For whatever reason Bubbie's school friends didn't like Johnny. They teased him and ignored him, which left Bubbie in a precarious predicament; should he be a good friend to Johnny or go along with his school peers?
"I ain't proud of it." Bubbie declared. "I tried to burn the candle at both ends. I hung around with Johnnie outside of school because we were really close friends but then I kinda ignored him in school to hang out with my other friends. It was a hard lesson."
Johnny was crestfallen by the betrayal of his best friend. He stopped trying to hang out with Bubbie and ignored him back. He went so far as to avoid him at every turn. Bubbie felt lower than a tick on a snakes belly. He eventually gave into his conscience and asked Johnny for his forgiveness and chose his friendship above the peer pressure of his schoolmates.
"I was ashamed to death." said Bubbie. "I know that that's an expression ya never hear either but that lesson changed my life. I learned about having integrity and doing right even when it might have been the hardest thing to do."
In mid-life Johnny passed away and went to be with the Lord far too early. But Uncle Bubba never had to live with the regret of having abandoned his friend. They had many great times together; times they never would have had if Bubbie had only thought of himself. In Bubbie's view, it's the death of shame that's eroded our moral fabric like moths in a linen closet. We should be giving, thoughtful people and if we slip and fall into the snares of the devil then keep our integrity, get up, shut up, and turn things around before it's too late.
Sunday, July 31, 2016
The Problem Of Politics
OK y’all, put on your thinking caps ‘cause Bubbie’s gonna take y’all into the deep end. Remember when your teacher would tell you to put on your thinking caps when she wanted us to really pay attention? She was forewarning us that she was about to lay something on us that we’d have to think on for ourselves, lest we sit there with blank stares, some a sponge and some a brick wall. When little Bubbie heard his teacher say that, he’d get lost in his imagination thinking about his thinking cap, what it looks like, what he looks like wearing it, and miss the dang lesson! But that’s a story for another day...
OK, one more aside before we dive in; one reason I love hanging out with Uncle Bubba is because he’s so easy going. He’s kind and thoughtfully quiet. When he has something to say he can be quick with a quip yet one gets the impression that he chooses his words carefully. Hanging out with Uncle Bubba is easy. He’s fun, he’s interesting, and seemingly simple. Yet if you want to talk about meaningful things you’ll find no more willing participant. The following is one such encounter:
The problem of politics is that it’s a hypocritical process of duality. To explain the basis of this postulation, let’s build a computer. The computer, arguably the most powerful and world transforming technology operates on a binary number system that dates back to the I Ching from the 9th century BC in China. It is based on Taoist duality of yin and yang and represents numeric values using two different symbols: typically 0 and 1. So our computer looks at everything as a 0 or a 1, no matter what data we put into it, or that it spits back out to us it's innards are all zeros and ones. This basis of yin and yang, or to quote the philosopher Alan Watts, can be interpreted as “Is you is, or is you ain’t?” In other words, if something is a zero, then its not a one, and if something is a one then it’s not a zero. We can transpose that into all areas of life, for instance if you are alive then you are not dead, or if a statement is a truth then it is not a lie.
What is truth? For starters, the correspondence theory of truth is often traced back to Aristotle’s well-known definition of truth (Metaphysics 1011b25): “To say of what is that it is not, or of what is not that it is, is false, while to say of what is that it is, and of what is not that it is not, is true”—but virtually identical formulations can be found in Plato (Cratylus 385b2, Sophist 263b). Confusing, huh? Bubbie prefers the summary of the correspondence theory of truth provided by English philosopher and physician, John Locke: the truth is that which corresponds to reality. Now obviously reality is subjective because two people can share the same experience and perceive separate realities. This verifies the existence of God due to the fact that we've needed His higher truth to survive. His truth is the Word while man-made reality is fickle and ever-changing but God's reality has been consistent since the dawn of time. Older, smarter folks than us hillbillies knew this and that's why our country was founded on Godly principles: In God We Trust. (Literally stated in binary code: 010010010110111000100000011001110110111101100100001000000111011101100101001000000111010001110010011101010111001101110100)
This is also why politics is a dirty business, because it is always trying to be a zero and a one at the same time and it is a man-made religion. And We The People cry out for a good person to run for office when by the very nature of the office is to conduct hypocrisy. The forefathers knew it. That's why they designed the system with three branches of government, a construct of checks and balances. They tried but perhaps trusting our corrupt human soul is just too much for the system to bear, after all look at the centuries of human struggle and corruption in the Bible; and yet what lesson is ever learned? Each party speaks the truth as they believe it and because of the duality of politics it is often the same truth spoken from opposing sides. But we realize that conformity to a party is a compromise of one's own personal truth and that cannot be avoided in a society. So we muddle on, sitting on our butt and complaining about how someone should really do something.
In Bubbie's view, what can y'all do to remedy the problem of politics but take care of your piece? Do your part by first carrying personal integrity in your heart. Look after your own place and see how the yin and yang is operating in your own life. Don't worry about the truths of others but only your truth first. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Speak what you think today in hard words and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said today.” The objective is to improve your life and the lives of others through association. Bubbie rocked back in his chair and sipped from his glass with a wry look and we laughed as he sang his final comment on the topic... Soldier on lest we befall the fate warned by Michael Jackson's mother who always told him, "And be careful of what you do 'cause the lie becomes the truth."(Billy Jean)
OK, one more aside before we dive in; one reason I love hanging out with Uncle Bubba is because he’s so easy going. He’s kind and thoughtfully quiet. When he has something to say he can be quick with a quip yet one gets the impression that he chooses his words carefully. Hanging out with Uncle Bubba is easy. He’s fun, he’s interesting, and seemingly simple. Yet if you want to talk about meaningful things you’ll find no more willing participant. The following is one such encounter:
The problem of politics is that it’s a hypocritical process of duality. To explain the basis of this postulation, let’s build a computer. The computer, arguably the most powerful and world transforming technology operates on a binary number system that dates back to the I Ching from the 9th century BC in China. It is based on Taoist duality of yin and yang and represents numeric values using two different symbols: typically 0 and 1. So our computer looks at everything as a 0 or a 1, no matter what data we put into it, or that it spits back out to us it's innards are all zeros and ones. This basis of yin and yang, or to quote the philosopher Alan Watts, can be interpreted as “Is you is, or is you ain’t?” In other words, if something is a zero, then its not a one, and if something is a one then it’s not a zero. We can transpose that into all areas of life, for instance if you are alive then you are not dead, or if a statement is a truth then it is not a lie.
What is truth? For starters, the correspondence theory of truth is often traced back to Aristotle’s well-known definition of truth (Metaphysics 1011b25): “To say of what is that it is not, or of what is not that it is, is false, while to say of what is that it is, and of what is not that it is not, is true”—but virtually identical formulations can be found in Plato (Cratylus 385b2, Sophist 263b). Confusing, huh? Bubbie prefers the summary of the correspondence theory of truth provided by English philosopher and physician, John Locke: the truth is that which corresponds to reality. Now obviously reality is subjective because two people can share the same experience and perceive separate realities. This verifies the existence of God due to the fact that we've needed His higher truth to survive. His truth is the Word while man-made reality is fickle and ever-changing but God's reality has been consistent since the dawn of time. Older, smarter folks than us hillbillies knew this and that's why our country was founded on Godly principles: In God We Trust. (Literally stated in binary code: 010010010110111000100000011001110110111101100100001000000111011101100101001000000111010001110010011101010111001101110100)
This is also why politics is a dirty business, because it is always trying to be a zero and a one at the same time and it is a man-made religion. And We The People cry out for a good person to run for office when by the very nature of the office is to conduct hypocrisy. The forefathers knew it. That's why they designed the system with three branches of government, a construct of checks and balances. They tried but perhaps trusting our corrupt human soul is just too much for the system to bear, after all look at the centuries of human struggle and corruption in the Bible; and yet what lesson is ever learned? Each party speaks the truth as they believe it and because of the duality of politics it is often the same truth spoken from opposing sides. But we realize that conformity to a party is a compromise of one's own personal truth and that cannot be avoided in a society. So we muddle on, sitting on our butt and complaining about how someone should really do something.
In Bubbie's view, what can y'all do to remedy the problem of politics but take care of your piece? Do your part by first carrying personal integrity in your heart. Look after your own place and see how the yin and yang is operating in your own life. Don't worry about the truths of others but only your truth first. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Speak what you think today in hard words and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said today.” The objective is to improve your life and the lives of others through association. Bubbie rocked back in his chair and sipped from his glass with a wry look and we laughed as he sang his final comment on the topic... Soldier on lest we befall the fate warned by Michael Jackson's mother who always told him, "And be careful of what you do 'cause the lie becomes the truth."(Billy Jean)
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Redneck Boating
Uncle Bubba and Sweet Pea decided to do a little redneck boating for some weekend relaxation. It was a typical hot and sunny Saturday in the south and everyone with a boat and some free time was at the river. The coolers were full and the radios speakers crackled to the edge of distorting. At once anyone can hear old country, new country, classic rock, and some kinda hippity-hop music. And as the morning beers lead to afternoon cold ones the volume know gets twisted up on the radio and so does the gossip and hollering. Men stand waste deep in the water with their great beer bellies glowing white like grotesque, untimely full moons and fluffy ladies in bikinis float on rafts in small flotillas, gossiping about things that should never even be whispered in private. Uncle Bubba and Sweet Pea were in the thick of it, staying cool in the water and appreciating the clean air when it came as the ether is often thick with acrid boat engine exhaust; that oily smoke lingers in blue clouds atop the green waters. Boats pass by and the captains casually juggle the wheel and their beer bottle as they navigate between the legions of little kids swimming like a truckload of fishing bobbers that had been thrown out into the water. Boat props and mindless little kids is a dangerous ballet that somehow pans out.
As Uncle Bubba floated in the water, his mind nearly turned off save one woman that could be heard talking over all the commotion. Her speaking voice was so loud that when he looked over in her direction he noticed that she wasn’t even facing him and he could still hear every word. Try as he might to not listen, he still overheard her. She sat on a raft with a beer in her hand and talked to anyone in her party that would listen. There was a senior, senior, cotton-topped couple on the boat and little kids jumping in and out of the water off of the back of the boat. She regaled the wide-eyed seniors with story after story of their boating adventures. It amazed him and stunned him in that she was probably around 50 years old and yet she used the F-bomb like a southern baptist preacher uses Amen. As Bubbie heard her speak explicitly of bodily functions, the female anatomy and various other unmentionable things, he tried to image hearing these now common things back when he was a kid. Did people always talk like this and he was innocuous? Perhaps, but it doesn’t seem like it. He recalls the adults of his youth being more refined and concerned about courtesy, especially in public. He recalls people reprimanding others who might be “out of line” in their language that, “Hey, there’s women and children around.” He asked Sweet Pea if she recalled things the same way and she said that she pretty much did. Then Bubbie mentioned more evidence to his theory of a more orthodox era in that the songs that he and Sweet Pea used to listen to when they were young were apt to hint of sexual innuendo but blatant referral just wasn’t allowed, not by the F.C.C. or by society. But now, song lyrics can be descriptively pornographic and you deny a persons civil rights to ask them to turn it down, let alone off.
Sweet Pea and Uncle Bubba know that it’s just the way that it is when you’re redneck boating. Folks will be loud, buzzed, and letting it all hang out. Many of these folks are also hardworking slaves of the general workforce that make up a community; heck, Bubbie’s one of them. They work hard and play hard. They’re victims of pride and social standings, yet in Bubbie’s view a little more class and a little less crass would make things more enjoyable for everyone.
Monday, July 18, 2016
Trial By Bomb
Uncle Bubba has unwittingly created a self-imposed exile from current affairs due to his interest in things that don’t connect to, well, social media and the use of devices that are used to media socialize. Sure, he has an iPhone, a computer, and a TV, but the way in which he interacts with them determines his social fate. As I happened to discover in speaking to him recently, the way that he has chosen to use, and not use the devices has also determined the quality of life that I think I envy. He’s quite unaffected by current events and he’s also, maybe unremarkably, happy. However, let me backtrack to bring you up to speed.
Dallas police deliberately used a bomb to kill a man! Deliberately! A bomb! They thought it through and decided to blow the dude up. Uncle Bubba was made aware of this while passing by a TV in a restaurant and he stood in shock, not even fighting to hide his mind being blown with his mouth open wide and staring blankly around the room. He searched for other faces of kindred shock but found none. It had been a least a week since the event had happened, an eternity in today’s span of attention but this was the first that Bubbie had heard of it. He struggled to gather his thoughts and wondered if there was any outrage to this unthinkable tactic? There had to be... right? But the fact that he couldn’t see anyone as upset as he was gave him the answer. Perhaps it’s the irony of it all: the Dallas Police Department that is lauded for their community policing, the bombing murder of a black man by the police, after his murdering 5 white officers at a Black Lives Matter demonstration. Then an African American author interviewed by a reporter came on the TV to talk about how police have been killing black people for years while white Americans have just sat back and didn’t care... his ironic hate speech was lost in the din in Bubbie’s head. He was still trying to get his head around the fact that the police blew up a suspect, albeit a murder suspect. They made themselves judge, jury, and executioner via a bomb, circumventing the law and the Constitution of the United States of America. A citizen's right to a trial by a jury of one's peers in a criminal prosecution is guaranteed by the sixth amendment of the U.S. Constitution. The right is extended to the states by the fourteenth amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America. In Bubbie’s view, the world’s view has become so twisted and distorted with ironic hypocrisy that outrage and shame are truly lost. Spending too much time with too much media has made the world comfortable with chaos. He’ll happily stay away from it. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things only.
Dallas police deliberately used a bomb to kill a man! Deliberately! A bomb! They thought it through and decided to blow the dude up. Uncle Bubba was made aware of this while passing by a TV in a restaurant and he stood in shock, not even fighting to hide his mind being blown with his mouth open wide and staring blankly around the room. He searched for other faces of kindred shock but found none. It had been a least a week since the event had happened, an eternity in today’s span of attention but this was the first that Bubbie had heard of it. He struggled to gather his thoughts and wondered if there was any outrage to this unthinkable tactic? There had to be... right? But the fact that he couldn’t see anyone as upset as he was gave him the answer. Perhaps it’s the irony of it all: the Dallas Police Department that is lauded for their community policing, the bombing murder of a black man by the police, after his murdering 5 white officers at a Black Lives Matter demonstration. Then an African American author interviewed by a reporter came on the TV to talk about how police have been killing black people for years while white Americans have just sat back and didn’t care... his ironic hate speech was lost in the din in Bubbie’s head. He was still trying to get his head around the fact that the police blew up a suspect, albeit a murder suspect. They made themselves judge, jury, and executioner via a bomb, circumventing the law and the Constitution of the United States of America. A citizen's right to a trial by a jury of one's peers in a criminal prosecution is guaranteed by the sixth amendment of the U.S. Constitution. The right is extended to the states by the fourteenth amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America. In Bubbie’s view, the world’s view has become so twisted and distorted with ironic hypocrisy that outrage and shame are truly lost. Spending too much time with too much media has made the world comfortable with chaos. He’ll happily stay away from it. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things only.
Wednesday, June 22, 2016
The Following Tail
Well, as promised, Uncle Bubba is back with a follow-up to the previous ending to the Tail Of 2 Dogs. Under the shadow of an old oak tree behind his garage, Uncle Bubba told me that we can learn a lot from a dog and I’m hear to tell ya that that’s true, so let me relate Bubbie’s view of it. In the last tale we heard of 2 dogs, and to quote C.S. Lewis, "The dog barks at strangers who have never done it any harm and wags its tail for old acquaintances even if they never did it a good turn (The Four Loves).” Remember King, the working dog that fiercely protected his master’s property? And then there was Willie, who chose to spend his days hanging around the house of a man that claimed to not even like him. That’s because dogs are pretty simple minded creatures, they have no conditions for what they do. So as not to insult dogs, nothing could be farther from Uncle Bubba’s truth, listen to him describe his dog that currently lives with him.
Francis David, Frankie, is a bulldog. As breeds go, Uncle Bubba and Sweet Pea would have no other. Frankie only has one concern each day: “Where do I fit in my pack?” Other things that he should be concerned with are taken care of by his master: Will I eat today? Where will I find my food? Will I play and get some exercise? Will I have time to rest? All of these things he receives without concern because of the affection and care of his “owners”.
Uncle Bubba said that he likes to sit on the couch in the evening and pet Frankie who is usually laying across his lap. He can feel the relaxed spirit of the dog. In moments like this, to paraphrase Lewis, we take them (the mutual affection and spirit of goodwill) for granted which is proper up to a point; it fits the comfortable, quiet nature of the feeling. Uncle Bubba reflects this quiet energy and knows that his dog is a warm, furry lump of pure love. Frankie only wants to be with Bubbie because it’s his place as a member of the pack, the family. Frankie never gets mad at Uncle Bubba if he does something stupid. Sometimes Uncle Bubba or Sweet Pea have to do things that Francis does care for, like a righteous yet ruckus of a toenail clipping, and the torturous tubby, yet they are for his own good. As much as Frankie doesn't like the treatment at the time, it is forgotten the moment that it’s over. He doesn’t hold a grudge, he’s just always happy to see his friend and is content just to spend time with him. Nothing more is required. One day Frankie got tangled up under Bubbie’s feet and Bubbie lost his balance and fell hard to the floor. He tried to save himself and attempted in one swift, graceless move to not fall on Frankie at the same time. With a clunk he hit the floor and Frankie let out a yelp as he scrambled away from the pile of Bubbie. Uncle Bubba lay there for a moment, he had no idea if he or Frankie was hurt. Then Frankie came over and excitedly licked his face and the two play wrestled on the floor as Bubbie laughed heartily. He wasn’t mad at Frankie and Frankie can not be upset with Uncle Bubba, he has instant forgiveness.
A dog does not care about what people think of him. A dog does not concern himself with the neighbors' business. If it doesn’t move, make a noise, or smell a dog isn’t interested in it. And what a dog perceives with it’s physical senses is only taken superficially; is it something to eat, something to chase? No, a dog is just a dog. Frankie is content to be with his family, to be petted, to be played with, and as a bulldog he lives to eat. Who of us wouldn’t benefit from this absence of ego? When Uncle Bubba sees his dog, or any dog, but especially Frankie he is inspired to live in the moment and act in love. Yessir, I can learn a lot from my dog.
Francis David, Frankie, is a bulldog. As breeds go, Uncle Bubba and Sweet Pea would have no other. Frankie only has one concern each day: “Where do I fit in my pack?” Other things that he should be concerned with are taken care of by his master: Will I eat today? Where will I find my food? Will I play and get some exercise? Will I have time to rest? All of these things he receives without concern because of the affection and care of his “owners”.
Uncle Bubba said that he likes to sit on the couch in the evening and pet Frankie who is usually laying across his lap. He can feel the relaxed spirit of the dog. In moments like this, to paraphrase Lewis, we take them (the mutual affection and spirit of goodwill) for granted which is proper up to a point; it fits the comfortable, quiet nature of the feeling. Uncle Bubba reflects this quiet energy and knows that his dog is a warm, furry lump of pure love. Frankie only wants to be with Bubbie because it’s his place as a member of the pack, the family. Frankie never gets mad at Uncle Bubba if he does something stupid. Sometimes Uncle Bubba or Sweet Pea have to do things that Francis does care for, like a righteous yet ruckus of a toenail clipping, and the torturous tubby, yet they are for his own good. As much as Frankie doesn't like the treatment at the time, it is forgotten the moment that it’s over. He doesn’t hold a grudge, he’s just always happy to see his friend and is content just to spend time with him. Nothing more is required. One day Frankie got tangled up under Bubbie’s feet and Bubbie lost his balance and fell hard to the floor. He tried to save himself and attempted in one swift, graceless move to not fall on Frankie at the same time. With a clunk he hit the floor and Frankie let out a yelp as he scrambled away from the pile of Bubbie. Uncle Bubba lay there for a moment, he had no idea if he or Frankie was hurt. Then Frankie came over and excitedly licked his face and the two play wrestled on the floor as Bubbie laughed heartily. He wasn’t mad at Frankie and Frankie can not be upset with Uncle Bubba, he has instant forgiveness.
A dog does not care about what people think of him. A dog does not concern himself with the neighbors' business. If it doesn’t move, make a noise, or smell a dog isn’t interested in it. And what a dog perceives with it’s physical senses is only taken superficially; is it something to eat, something to chase? No, a dog is just a dog. Frankie is content to be with his family, to be petted, to be played with, and as a bulldog he lives to eat. Who of us wouldn’t benefit from this absence of ego? When Uncle Bubba sees his dog, or any dog, but especially Frankie he is inspired to live in the moment and act in love. Yessir, I can learn a lot from my dog.
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| Couch Surfin’: A Big Bulldog YAWN! |
Sunday, June 19, 2016
A Tail Of 2 Dogs
I stopped by Uncle Bubba’s and found him under some trees out behind his garage sitting in the shade talking with his cousin Earl. Earl drove a dark green 1985 Monte Carlo that he fancied as a hotrod but it was far from the era of cool muscle cars and few of Earl's acquaintances seemed to carry his same enthusiasm. The afternoon sun was so hot that a half eaten bag of pork rinds on Earl’s dashboard combusted like a flash of sparklers on the Fourth of July. We watched in stunned amazement until Earl made a run for the car and thrashed at the smoking mess with an old t-shirt. Earl’s dog Max was laying under his car at the time and was unfazed by the fireworks display but panicked and scrambled out from under the car as his master excitedly attacked the car. Bubbie and I tried not to laugh but seriously, it was hilarious. Uncle Bubba watched the dogs reaction to Earl and it brought to mind a dog that he once had.
Willie was a good dog. He was a happy dog; he wore it, it showed. He trotted when he walked with his eyes lit up and his tail wagging. Uncle Bubba liked Willie but the doggone dog would run off all the time and he always ran to the same place, a farm that neighbored the backside of Uncle Bubba’s place. He told me about how cranky and cantankerous the farmer was that lived there. Whenever Uncle Bubba went there to retrieve Willie, he’d have to suffer a reprimand about Willie being a nuisance and a lecture about something, anything that the farmer could complain about. Willie didn’t just run off once in a while, but Bubbie would often comment emphatically that Willie was more the farmer’s dog than his own. He felt exacerbated that he fed and watered Willie and paid his vet bills only to have him happily disappear to live with someone else. He tried every nice thing he could think of to get his dog to like him and stick around yet Willie couldn’t be less interested. Where was the dad-gum loyalty of man’s best friend?
Well the truth of it was that the farmer had a dog too, and Willie and he were friends, buds, companions. They’d run together through the pastures and along trails through the woods. They’d cavort with the clueless cows and on occasion they’d scare the hens and chickens, never slowing down to do damage because there was some scent that they would have to chase after and investigate, and plenty of squirrels to chase up a tree. They would show up at Uncle Bubba’s from time to time for a rest, a drink, or a snack, or just to visit before darting off again. He never bothered mentioning this to the farmer because he knew it would fall on deaf ears. The fact was that the boys ran on the farm because there was more land and more to smell, chase and explore. Uncle Bubba would have liked to have Willie around more so he could just pet him once in a while and spend some time mulling over the issues of the day, but it wasn’t in Willie’s nature. In Bubbie’s view, he had to admit that though it was an empty relationship that he had with Willie, it made him smile when he thought about how happily Willie lived his life.
Now, another neighbor of Uncle Bubba, who happened to be a farmer, had a dog named King. King was a Belgium Shepard and a big one at that. He was black with a tan swatch on his barrel chest. He was appropriately named and a great protector of the farmer and all of the farmers possessions. If some poor, unsuspecting stranger happened to visit the farm without advanced notice, King was always near by to make sure to let the stranger know who was in charge and who was not welcome. He was also inclined to express this point with his teeth. This was true be it friend or foe. Uncle Bubba recalled on more than one occasion, where he swore that he’d seen King up on top of a yonder hill as he pulled into the drive. That dog would be no more than a black speck on the far end of the hay field and as Uncle Bubba opened his door to get out of the truck that dog would sink it’s teeth into his ankle. It was supernatural! Uncle Bubba would have to shuck him off of his boot and wait in the truck until the farmer appeared to call off the dog. All it took was a grunt from the old man’s tobacco stained mouth and the dog would back up and stand guard. The farmer would reach into his pocket and pull out a plug of tobacco and a pocket knife. He’d cut himself off a slice, one for his dog, and then offer one to Bubbie. Some days they’d walk to the artesian well for a drink. The farmer would grab an old tin ladle that hung on a post and dip it into the well and take a big ol’ sip, then he’d hold it down for King to get a drink, then pass it to Uncle Bubba. Out of respect he’d grin and bare the backwash of the tobacco chewing dog and have himself a sip. The farmer would grin with tobacco juice running down his chin and say, “Ain’t that the best tasting water you ever had?” Bubbie was never sure if that grin was because the farmer was truly proud of his well water or because Bubbie drank dog water.
Earl had cleaned up the dashboard of his car and Max had settled back down as he sat in the grass and watched his master with curiosity. Earl would cuss and mutter something as he thrashed around inside his car and Max would cock his head from one side to the other. Uncle Bubba and I watched with amusement as he continued on with his story of King. He told me how King only had three paws because he lost one in an accident with a piece of farm machinery. The old farmer ruefully told him of how when the accident happened, he jumped down from his tractor and grabbed King’s leg and used some rags to try and stop the bleeding. King tore into the farmer’s arm and bit him again and again, but the farmer didn’t blame him; he said that if it had been him he’d have done the same thing. Uncle Bubba took a drink from the cold can that was wearing in his hand. He paused and looked down and kicked at the dusty ground. He seemed to be contemplating if he would have done the same thing as the farmer said. Earl pulled up a seat in the shade and popped the top on a cold beer and told us that he thought that there was no real damage to the interior; he managed to mention that it certainly didn’t slow it down any. I spent a couple hours there as we swapped stories and shared opinions and laughs. As I drove away to finish some errands that I had set out to do I thought about Bubbie’s view, that we could all learn a lot from dogs; but that’s a tail for another day.
Willie was a good dog. He was a happy dog; he wore it, it showed. He trotted when he walked with his eyes lit up and his tail wagging. Uncle Bubba liked Willie but the doggone dog would run off all the time and he always ran to the same place, a farm that neighbored the backside of Uncle Bubba’s place. He told me about how cranky and cantankerous the farmer was that lived there. Whenever Uncle Bubba went there to retrieve Willie, he’d have to suffer a reprimand about Willie being a nuisance and a lecture about something, anything that the farmer could complain about. Willie didn’t just run off once in a while, but Bubbie would often comment emphatically that Willie was more the farmer’s dog than his own. He felt exacerbated that he fed and watered Willie and paid his vet bills only to have him happily disappear to live with someone else. He tried every nice thing he could think of to get his dog to like him and stick around yet Willie couldn’t be less interested. Where was the dad-gum loyalty of man’s best friend?
Well the truth of it was that the farmer had a dog too, and Willie and he were friends, buds, companions. They’d run together through the pastures and along trails through the woods. They’d cavort with the clueless cows and on occasion they’d scare the hens and chickens, never slowing down to do damage because there was some scent that they would have to chase after and investigate, and plenty of squirrels to chase up a tree. They would show up at Uncle Bubba’s from time to time for a rest, a drink, or a snack, or just to visit before darting off again. He never bothered mentioning this to the farmer because he knew it would fall on deaf ears. The fact was that the boys ran on the farm because there was more land and more to smell, chase and explore. Uncle Bubba would have liked to have Willie around more so he could just pet him once in a while and spend some time mulling over the issues of the day, but it wasn’t in Willie’s nature. In Bubbie’s view, he had to admit that though it was an empty relationship that he had with Willie, it made him smile when he thought about how happily Willie lived his life.
Now, another neighbor of Uncle Bubba, who happened to be a farmer, had a dog named King. King was a Belgium Shepard and a big one at that. He was black with a tan swatch on his barrel chest. He was appropriately named and a great protector of the farmer and all of the farmers possessions. If some poor, unsuspecting stranger happened to visit the farm without advanced notice, King was always near by to make sure to let the stranger know who was in charge and who was not welcome. He was also inclined to express this point with his teeth. This was true be it friend or foe. Uncle Bubba recalled on more than one occasion, where he swore that he’d seen King up on top of a yonder hill as he pulled into the drive. That dog would be no more than a black speck on the far end of the hay field and as Uncle Bubba opened his door to get out of the truck that dog would sink it’s teeth into his ankle. It was supernatural! Uncle Bubba would have to shuck him off of his boot and wait in the truck until the farmer appeared to call off the dog. All it took was a grunt from the old man’s tobacco stained mouth and the dog would back up and stand guard. The farmer would reach into his pocket and pull out a plug of tobacco and a pocket knife. He’d cut himself off a slice, one for his dog, and then offer one to Bubbie. Some days they’d walk to the artesian well for a drink. The farmer would grab an old tin ladle that hung on a post and dip it into the well and take a big ol’ sip, then he’d hold it down for King to get a drink, then pass it to Uncle Bubba. Out of respect he’d grin and bare the backwash of the tobacco chewing dog and have himself a sip. The farmer would grin with tobacco juice running down his chin and say, “Ain’t that the best tasting water you ever had?” Bubbie was never sure if that grin was because the farmer was truly proud of his well water or because Bubbie drank dog water.
Earl had cleaned up the dashboard of his car and Max had settled back down as he sat in the grass and watched his master with curiosity. Earl would cuss and mutter something as he thrashed around inside his car and Max would cock his head from one side to the other. Uncle Bubba and I watched with amusement as he continued on with his story of King. He told me how King only had three paws because he lost one in an accident with a piece of farm machinery. The old farmer ruefully told him of how when the accident happened, he jumped down from his tractor and grabbed King’s leg and used some rags to try and stop the bleeding. King tore into the farmer’s arm and bit him again and again, but the farmer didn’t blame him; he said that if it had been him he’d have done the same thing. Uncle Bubba took a drink from the cold can that was wearing in his hand. He paused and looked down and kicked at the dusty ground. He seemed to be contemplating if he would have done the same thing as the farmer said. Earl pulled up a seat in the shade and popped the top on a cold beer and told us that he thought that there was no real damage to the interior; he managed to mention that it certainly didn’t slow it down any. I spent a couple hours there as we swapped stories and shared opinions and laughs. As I drove away to finish some errands that I had set out to do I thought about Bubbie’s view, that we could all learn a lot from dogs; but that’s a tail for another day.
Thursday, June 02, 2016
Is There Anything Better?
Is there anything better than pulling a cold slice of watermelon out of the fridge and sinking into a deep bite after working for several hours in the heat of a summer’s day?
Is there anything better than the abiding loyalty and unending affection from your dog?
Is there anything better than doing the things you like to do with a friend that likes to do them too?
Is there anything better than laying your head on your soft pillow at night with a clear conscience?
Is there anything better than God’s grace and understanding the act of forgiveness?
Is there anything better than holding a baby?
Is there anything better than a walk in the woods?
Is there anything better than waking to the sound of birds song?
Is there anything better than standing near the shore, feeling a breeze on your face and smelling the water? Is there anything better than singing along with a good song?
Is there anything better than picking ripe fruit from a tree or bush and popping into your mouth?
Is there anything better than gut laughter of a child, or witnessing the tears of joy from an old-timer?
Is there anything better than the scent of fresh cut grass; especially when someone else has mowed it?
Is there anything better than watching a honey bee dance from clover to clover?
Is there anything better than blowing a dandelion wish?
Is there anything better than a spectacular sunrise, sunbeams shining through the clouds, red skies at night, or a vivid rainbow?
Is there anything better than a long back rub?
Is there anything better than devouring a great book?
Is there anything better than a kiss?
In Bubbie’s view, there ain’t nothing better than all of this and more, and a life full of God, love, and family.
Is there anything better than the abiding loyalty and unending affection from your dog?
Is there anything better than doing the things you like to do with a friend that likes to do them too?
Is there anything better than laying your head on your soft pillow at night with a clear conscience?
Is there anything better than God’s grace and understanding the act of forgiveness?
Is there anything better than holding a baby?
Is there anything better than a walk in the woods?
Is there anything better than waking to the sound of birds song?
Is there anything better than standing near the shore, feeling a breeze on your face and smelling the water? Is there anything better than singing along with a good song?
Is there anything better than picking ripe fruit from a tree or bush and popping into your mouth?
Is there anything better than gut laughter of a child, or witnessing the tears of joy from an old-timer?
Is there anything better than the scent of fresh cut grass; especially when someone else has mowed it?
Is there anything better than watching a honey bee dance from clover to clover?
Is there anything better than blowing a dandelion wish?
Is there anything better than a spectacular sunrise, sunbeams shining through the clouds, red skies at night, or a vivid rainbow?
Is there anything better than a long back rub?
Is there anything better than devouring a great book?
Is there anything better than a kiss?
In Bubbie’s view, there ain’t nothing better than all of this and more, and a life full of God, love, and family.
Saturday, March 26, 2016
Low Hanging Fruit
In Bubbie’s view, if we only pick the low hanging fruit we get something that is easy, and maybe for a short time sweet. But it’s assured ripeness will too soon begin to rot and make us sick. It’s tangy, sour aroma will fill our nostrils and steal our breath and our bellies will boil with acid. Have no doubt that when the serpent tempted Eve she reached for the lowest hanging fruit on the tree. But if she had climbed the tree to the top, scaling it’s rough bark and squirming through it’s twisted branches in a quest to find the reddest apple on the tree, it would have taken time and effort and she would have weighed the value of that expense against the worthiness of her goal. It would have afforded her the time to think things through. She would have come to realize that the entire endeavor was not worth it. In coming to her senses, she would have felt the call of love in her spirit for Adam and remembered that he deserved her respect. It would have all made perfect sense and she would have climbed back down and rightfully turned down the serpents suggestion.
Don’t grab for the low hanging fruit just because you can. The consequences will not only make you ill but it will poison all those associated with you; they don’t deserve that. Instead, make the extra effort and act out of love and respect.
Don’t grab for the low hanging fruit just because you can. The consequences will not only make you ill but it will poison all those associated with you; they don’t deserve that. Instead, make the extra effort and act out of love and respect.
Sunday, February 07, 2016
What Is Friendship?
One of Uncle Bubba’s best friends, one that he’s known from when they was just pups, recently asked Bubbie what he thought it meant to be a friend. Doesn’t it seem that when we gain more and more life experiences, the simplest things can get complicated in our thinking? When this happens, Uncle Bubba told me, he usually thinks about what he learned in kindergarten. It’s become a cliche that everything we need to know about life we learned in kindergarten, but there are reasons things are cliche.
Bubbie’s reply to his friend was this: “You can like someone and be friendly to them and even enjoy their company, yet that doesn’t mean that you are friends. Friends do several things constantly: they are compatible, act amiably, loyally, and reciprocate. Most friendships take time to develop and the more history 2 people create and as trust evolves, the friendship grows (or doesn’t if the before mentioned don’t come into play).”
If we take a moment to look at his assessment, let’s think about compatibility. Initially we gravitate to people because we feel or find things that we have in common. We bring different perspectives to commonalities, but we have more than passing interests in the things we have a passion for or enjoy doing. When we meet others with common interests we feel a compatibility with them. We existing together in harmony.
Compatibility can be a double edged sword because of another cliche: misery loves company. How often do we hang out with people that love to commiserate about our self-imposed problems? But does that make a true friendship? In Bubbie’s view, amiability is necessary for a long and lasting friendship. Commiserating is fine as a means of short term therapy, but being amiable, being friendly and pleasant is an act of giving one’s best. When we care for someone, don’t we want them to feel our friendship as pleasant? Uncle Bubba does.
So we have common interests, likes and dislikes. We have pleasant interactions and feelings; and in Bubbie’s view, we need actions because a friendship is an activity. Friends share experiences and build history and in doing so they reciprocate, they give and take mutually. They are both amiable, and true friends also take an interest in things of which they aren’t compatible. Friends gladly share, they gladly give.
Uncle Bubba said that he knows that friendship has many more facets, but he wanted to pare it down to simple kindergarten-like terms. How long a friendship lasts depends upon the length of time compatibility, amiability, and reciprocation exists. We choose how long we want to remain loyal to the friendship. Amiability is fickle because of emotions; we all have good days and bad. Compatibility can fade as we develop as people, and without compatibility a friendship will be snuffed out as a candle. But be not discouraged because we can choose to find new compatible things in old friends. True friends look for opportunities to renew their friendship.
In Bubbie’s final view, so many folks are in our lives for a reason and a season. Perhaps we need something from them, maybe they need something from us. Some friendships last a lifetime and others fade away, so choose your friends wisely.
Bubbie’s reply to his friend was this: “You can like someone and be friendly to them and even enjoy their company, yet that doesn’t mean that you are friends. Friends do several things constantly: they are compatible, act amiably, loyally, and reciprocate. Most friendships take time to develop and the more history 2 people create and as trust evolves, the friendship grows (or doesn’t if the before mentioned don’t come into play).”
If we take a moment to look at his assessment, let’s think about compatibility. Initially we gravitate to people because we feel or find things that we have in common. We bring different perspectives to commonalities, but we have more than passing interests in the things we have a passion for or enjoy doing. When we meet others with common interests we feel a compatibility with them. We existing together in harmony.
Compatibility can be a double edged sword because of another cliche: misery loves company. How often do we hang out with people that love to commiserate about our self-imposed problems? But does that make a true friendship? In Bubbie’s view, amiability is necessary for a long and lasting friendship. Commiserating is fine as a means of short term therapy, but being amiable, being friendly and pleasant is an act of giving one’s best. When we care for someone, don’t we want them to feel our friendship as pleasant? Uncle Bubba does.
So we have common interests, likes and dislikes. We have pleasant interactions and feelings; and in Bubbie’s view, we need actions because a friendship is an activity. Friends share experiences and build history and in doing so they reciprocate, they give and take mutually. They are both amiable, and true friends also take an interest in things of which they aren’t compatible. Friends gladly share, they gladly give.
Uncle Bubba said that he knows that friendship has many more facets, but he wanted to pare it down to simple kindergarten-like terms. How long a friendship lasts depends upon the length of time compatibility, amiability, and reciprocation exists. We choose how long we want to remain loyal to the friendship. Amiability is fickle because of emotions; we all have good days and bad. Compatibility can fade as we develop as people, and without compatibility a friendship will be snuffed out as a candle. But be not discouraged because we can choose to find new compatible things in old friends. True friends look for opportunities to renew their friendship.
In Bubbie’s final view, so many folks are in our lives for a reason and a season. Perhaps we need something from them, maybe they need something from us. Some friendships last a lifetime and others fade away, so choose your friends wisely.
Saturday, January 23, 2016
What’s Wrong With This Photo?
Uncle Bubba saw this story on the news this morning of
Police Officer Jesse Hartnett being released from Penn Presbyterian Medical Center, 15 days after he was seriously injured when he was ambushed and shot in West Philadelphia by a man claiming allegiance to the Islamic State. Instantly something struck Bubbie when he saw this photo:
It’s the rod sticking out of his arm holding his arm together... he’s not healed! This is the state of our healthcare system where hospitals are all about turnover and clearing a bed to rush the next patient through, and not about healing and wellness. Its a factory approach to generate revenue, not a means of caring for the patience. So this seriously injured man will have to convalesce at home where he does not have professional care, and the burden of his recovery is rests on his wife and family. Obviously this is the way that our supposed best healthcare in the world has evolved to keep thriving under new, the Affordable Care Act. In Bubbie’s view, we should be demanding better treatment for that amount of money that we are required by law to invest.
It’s the rod sticking out of his arm holding his arm together... he’s not healed! This is the state of our healthcare system where hospitals are all about turnover and clearing a bed to rush the next patient through, and not about healing and wellness. Its a factory approach to generate revenue, not a means of caring for the patience. So this seriously injured man will have to convalesce at home where he does not have professional care, and the burden of his recovery is rests on his wife and family. Obviously this is the way that our supposed best healthcare in the world has evolved to keep thriving under new, the Affordable Care Act. In Bubbie’s view, we should be demanding better treatment for that amount of money that we are required by law to invest.
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