I HAVE SEEN THE FACE OF THE ENEMY, IT'S EVERYBODY

My own come to Jesus meeting this week happened when I saw an article about death benefits for the families of our military service men and women being without funds due to the government shut down.  That was it for me.  In fragments, with isolated legislation, bits and pieces of the government are being restored.  The enemy is within.  I don't think that since the Civil War this country has been so divided.  it isn't so much we the common people, it is the dogmatic ideologists who are so committed to their agendas that they would force them on the country even at the cost of the union.  This is not a regional, ethnic, nor place in society division, it is an ideology division without borders or boundaries.  Across the country, on any given block their are proponents of both position, albeit there seem to be more against the health insurance issue which appears to be at the core what the current train wreck is about.  Sadly there are many more citizens of our without a dog in this hunt than there are on the polarized ends, and hence comes the enemy... It is complacency by too many Americans who are too involved in their own lives to make it to the poles to vote.  Obviously fewer of us were looking for change than expressed themselves at our designated voting locations.  The only ones voting are those with rock solid ideas about given subjects and agendas, and to them the other side is completely wrong, and I have read their posts here and their, they want them run out of the country, executed for treason and war crimes.  They may not be willing to die for their ideals, but certainly they are willing to vote for them.

Those we sent to Washington are being faithful to those who brought them to the dance, now we have a melt down of the glue that has always held this nation together, and I can just see the vultures circling overhead.  Before the world, we stand exposed as incapable of running our own country, while the world looks to us as the leaders of liberty and justice for all.  That makes good governments really uneasy and milling around without leadership.  It makes bad governments panic, where will the out stretched hand which is never empty come from?  Vile governments lick their chops at the possibilities of the situation.

I have done a lot of reading yesterday and early this morning, to try and figure out what the true problem is, not just what the popular news outlets tell us it is, because of course, those avenues of journalism are nothing but the prostitutes of profit for the entertainment industry.

Here is what I have gleaned out of it all:

1.  President Obama came duly elected to Washington with his personal "signature" political goal being affordable health care for all.  Now certainly that is a noble goal. 

2.  A problems for many arose when he master minded a program that is so vast and massive in it's change of American health care, that to this day, I don't think a living soul has read the entire document, or is completely aware of all the rules and tidbits of law that have been enacted.

3.  There was so much opposition to this legislation that legal challenges were take to the Supreme Court, where the health care bill was upheld.

5.  The elected officials whose constituency, along with many other Americans, oppose these changes  believe this plan will economically bankrupt the country and not work in practice to provide health care, and they lack the voting power to appeal and override a presidential veto.

6.  Being resourceful, the elected officials who oppose this legislation attached amendments to legislation funding of government operations, thus setting up an  O.K. Corral situation, and both sides are holding hostages. The left holds political voting power, the right, government funding power, and they have drawn down on one another, each holding their hostage as a shield against defeat of their aims.

7.  The problem is there are no identified true bad guys and good guys.  What these politician don't seem to understand is that they all work as servants of the people, and not just those who voted for them, all the people in their districts.  That seems not to be happening.  Not one of those involved in this showdown have even fluttered an eyelash, much less blinked.  They are just standing silent in the hot sun, guns drawn, life and death, (yours and mine,) in the balance, and the will to be there until their terms are met.

So there you have it.  My work on identifying the problem.  I am going to have to do some more thinking to come up with which actions will spare us all, because there are a lot of voices about that too, so many it is hard to pick out the voice of reason from the crowd.  I know the problem begins and ends in one word, complacency. 
























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































za

WREQ

After the Deputy Sheriffs Left We Had a Long Talk

My husband has been deployed first with the Army and now with the State Department for going on five years now.  I am often by myself at the ranch, but I am never afraid, because being the good Texan woman I am, I sleep with a Glock, and there is a shotgun and an AK47 under the bed.  All are always loaded.

Two Deputy Sheriffs just left, because I woke to someone walking stealthily down our wooden porch.  I listened a minute or two, because I thought if anyone were on the property, Patti, the Wonder Australian Shepperd Dog, would bark.  After I listened I still was certain someone was on the porch, so I chose the Glock, and moved to the bathroom and peeked around at the window.  Sure enough the plain silhouette of a man's torso was visible through the window.  He also saw me and the Glock.  (I hold one the way someone who is a trained marksman who has won awards shooting does, and it is highly suggestive that I know how to use one.)  The man moved swiftly down the porch out of my vision, and I dialed 911.

 It was a good fifteen minutes before the two deputies arrived, but they did a painstaking search of the property, starting with the porch.  I stayed inside wondering if I would find Patti dead or seriously wounded, because I still had not heard a sound out of her.  When I was sure they were through looking for the man, I stepped out on the porch.  Patti was silently standing at the corner of the porch watching all, and when she saw me she just went nuts.  She was acting so vicious that one of the deputies told me if she she tried to attack, he would have to shoot her.  I pulled her foaming at the mouth little carcass into the den with her resisting all the way and acting as if she were going to chew his leg off at any moment.  I stayed outside with the two deputies to learn they had found no trace of the intruder.  They took notes and then left, and I went back into the house for a little discussion with Patti Dog.

Patti was still hyped up, and so even more so than usual she had a hard time paying attention, and it is doubtful she understood my lecture on who to bark at, when, and that courage is important when facing adversity.  Sigh, that dog is vexing me.  I am going back to sleep now.

The Lonely Soldier

As Randy and I have worked with Warriors and their families, we have found that when Warriors experience dark things in combat which haunt them to a degree that it is life interrupting, they often find themselves reluctant to tell anyone what they are going through.  Especially in the case of Military Sexual Trauma, the tendency is to hide from everyone what has happened.  There are varied reasons why Soldiers do this, all the way from feeling as though they are failing their unit,  or from fear of reprisal, or from fear of ridicule, to efforts to protect their loved ones from knowing how deeply they are suffering.  There are many more reasons as well.

Human beings are a herd or flock species.  We have built into us the need for relationships with others of our kind, and of communicating to them both our triumphs and our tragedies.  In the midst of the very physical bondage of PTSD, (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder,) I would say a person is more in need of that human communication than at any other point or stress in life.  Isolation seems to be a part of the sufferings of Soldier's Heart, which is what PTSD was known as during the American Revolution and the Civil War.

This condition was around even for one of the mightiest warriors of them all.  King David wrote many of his psalms from a place of deep pain and suffering, obviously finding himself affected by depression.  It can follow any Soldier home from the battle field.

When as human beings, we sometimes lock down our fears and try to hide them even from ourselves, when we put on our false faces, and put every effort into keeping secrets that are ripping us apart inside, it will be to our detriment.  That is when a feeling of profound isolation can begin to steal into our beings.  In a crowd we can experience feeling totally alone and abandoned.  Even when, if they only knew, our families and friends would rush to our aid, due to some circumstance that seems to the individual insurmountable, Warriors will hide their pain, their fear, and their suffering.  The feelings of total isolation that result eat at what mental health they have, causing even more problems. 

If you know a Warrior, or a family member of a Warrior whom you suspect to be suffering from PTSD, please, resist the urge to ignore it in hopes that it will resolve on its' own, most likely it will not.  There are many military programs in place to help those struggling, however I have observed that sometimes there exists no experience of a real human connection in these programs, rather the Warrior feels the treatment provider doesn't understand, or care either.  Their "services" appear to them to be just how these individuals make their living, and the very people endeavoring to provide help leave them feeling even more alone and misunderstood.  Sometimes a service person's negative feelings are grounded in accurately assessing the provider, some do only reach out in order only to get a paycheck.  The needed genuine human compassion is just not there to be had.  That tends to outweigh any benefits the particular treatment might actually yield, in spite of the worth of the treatment itself. 

The huge government bureaucracy that we know as the Bureau of Veterans Affairs, fails some Warrior somewhere every day, actually probably it fails many each day.  I can tell you from personal experience, it can be overwhelming, confusing, frustrating, and that many just give up without ever receiving the benefits owed them.  All of these factors can contribute to feelings of isolation.  The feeling that no one understands or cares grows, and the results of those feelings can be catastrophic.  

So again I urge all of you who love a Soldier, do not hesitate to tactfully reach out, you will never regret your efforts made in compassion and gratitude for service given by these men and women.  While on the other hand, there exists the possibility that in failing to act you will carry a burden the rest of your life, that might have been prevented.

In the poem which follows, I have tried to express feelings which sometimes occur, that have been described to me by those affected by PTSD.  Hopelessness, and helplessness are words that are often used to describe these feelings of being disconnected from family, friends, and the world in general.  So read my dark words, and perhaps get a glimpse of the place some of our 'Soldiers find themselves when they come home.  They experience a loneliness we cannot understand.

            The following are links that can be a start when searching for help.

• What is PTSD?
  Find out about the symptoms of PTSD and how they develop.
• Frequently Asked Questions About PTSD
  Basic information about PTSD and its treatment. Includes links to resources for getting help.
• Helping a Family Member Who Has PTSD
  Ways you can help a loved one with PTSD and ways you can help yourself.
• How Common is PTSD?
  Find out how many people have PTSD and who is most likely to develop PTSD.
• Treatment of PTSD
  Describes the treatments shown to be effective for PTSD and what you can expect from your therapist.
• Understanding PTS(D): Adapt and Overcome
  Read this interview of Dr. Matthew Friedman, Executive Director of NCPTSD, to understand more about returning from war.
• Understanding PTSD Treatment
  View this interactive module about PTSD treatment options. A companion to Understanding PTSD, it has full color photos and videos of clinicians who provide care. It can help overcome any myths you might have about PTSD treatment.
• What Can I Do if I Think I Have PTSD?
  Learn what to do and answer a questionnaire to see if you need to be assessed by a professional.

I LOVE BEAUTIFUL ART WORK, AND THIS ARTIST INGRIGUES ME SO

While at the Kemah Boardwalk with our daughter, her boyfriend, and our son, I noticed once again some framed prints in the beignet shop we always go to.  I made note of the artist and decided to research his work and his life, for his work is like none other I know of, and so elegant in subject.

A print of this work, entitled "The Singing Butler," hangs in the little shop and Kemah, as well as the piece "Dance Me to the End of Love."

The artist's name is Jack Verttriano, however he was born Jack Hoggan, and at age thirty six he took his mother's maiden name for reasons I was not able to ascertain.  Born in Scotland, he is now 62 years of age, and a self taught genius.  As is often as not the case, he grew up in poverty, and first began adult employment as a apprentice mining engineer, he had originally dropped out of school at age sixteen.  The gift for his birthday, by a girlfriend, of a boxed set of watercolors changed the direction of his life at age twenty one.  He began painting by copying the works of some of the great impressionist such as Monet. 

It was not from lack of trying that Verttriano had no formal training, he applied to study Fine Art at the University of Edinburgh, but his application was denied based on his portfolio.  (Don't you just love stories like that?)  So he developed his craft on his own.
  

I also discovered in my research that many of his paintings are soft porn in nature, and I even found some extremely distasteful in subject matter.  This spoiled my initial impression of such elegance in his work.  However there are certainly enough beautiful paintings with genuine refinement reflected, that I greatly admire his work as a whole.  You can Google his name specifying images and explore his work on your own.  Many in the world of fine art do not respect his work, and I am sure that he must find that insulting, that is until he goes to the bank, then I am certain he smiles that many of his critics can't afford his work.

Here are a few more of the paintings I find beautiful:

Certainly, to me, there is something in these works that represent refinement and beauty.

THERE IS A NEW SMALL AND GENTLE CREATURE IN OUR LIVES

The Almighty in the incomprehensible vastness of his creativity filled this world with so many wonders.  There are vistas of awesome beauty, plants and flowers whose appearance rivals and wins over that of all the adornments and clothing worn by King Solomon, and bodies of water, both vast and small teaming with their own life. The photos below reflect just a small sampling of the beauty of the place where I live.

Very recently, while Randy was home on leave, we were in a travel agency office doing some business.  A young woman there had a tiny baby squirrel in a pet carrier that she had rescued, and she was trying to find someone to take the squirrel to rehab and then release.  I love baby things... all baby things, and after a short consult with Randy, who cannot resist granting me my every wish, we became the care takers of a tiny, fragile, little life.  We named him Traveler, and he has now already been to five states.  He is quite adorable, and growing every day.  His charm is amazing, and his companionship enchanting.  So, even though you have already seen him in pictures sitting on my head, here are his "first baby pictures."  I think you are going to love this squirrel as much as we do...

 

You are just going to love him!

SOME Of US ARE RULED BY GREAT PASSIONS FOR ALL OUR LIVES

"My father said she was a strong woman, and I believe a strong woman may be stronger than a man, particularly if she happens to have love in her heart.  I guess a loving woman is almost indestructible.  John Steinbeck, East of Eden

My husband's mother is dying.  She is ninety years old, and has been bed ridden for some time now, and because she was always a proud and independent woman, I feel strongly she welcomes the closing of her life in this world, and looks forward in great anticipation to her next existence in eternity.  My husband has always adored his mother, his sister has as well, and in fact the three of them have always greatly loved each other in a unique way that always survived the trials of their relationships.  They have traveled together, played cards together, ate together, and laughed together, in a continuous celebration of life that most people long to experience, but never know.  They naturally have spent their lives enjoying each others minds and true selves without effort, as long as I have known them.

I think that in large part, the gift of great intelligence that I see in both Randy and his sister Vickie, is the legacy of their mother.  I first met Randy's mother when she was about eighty two, and I was amazed then at her mind, her quick wit, her love of life, and the passion that I saw in her, even at the advanced age at which I first engaged her.

Mo, as she was known as to her grand-children, came and stayed with Randy and I directly after Hurricane Catrina, and during that time, she shared stories of her very remarkable life.  She was orphaned at the age of nine, lost two brothers in WWII, and by age fourteen, was working in a hosiery factory in Kentucky where she was born.  We did some singing at the piano when she was staying with us, and she still had a lovely clear alto voice, with perfect pitch, and she told me of traveling around to different churches with a singing group in her youth.  One of the favorite family stories is of the time Randy was stationed in Hawaii, right after he graduated from West Point, and how on a car ride up through perilous mountains there, Randy, Vickie, and his mother sang "How Great Thou Art," as Randy drove the car around the curves in the manner he has that makes one consider their own mortality during a car ride.  My favorite description of Randy includes the term "runs with scissors."  The three of them all have rooted within the depths of their truest identities, a love of adventure, and a daring passion for life.  In my mind, I can so easily envision the three of them singing at the top of their lungs, as Randy careened around the curves, playing with destiny, without regard of anything but the thrill and joy of the moment of adventure they were sharing.  I am certain that while there might have been playful protests, the two women were just as into the thrill of that ride as Randy was.  

That was the kind of woman Zora Moore was... and the passion with which she lived sometimes came out in a storm of emotion, but passionate people have those tendencies, along with their highly prized spirits, and their zest for life.  In all that she told me, and all that I have observed in her, the most outstanding quality has remained for her entire lifetime, her great love of Randy's father.  She could have had any man, but she told me that fall as we shared the same house, that she never loved any man but Ampton LeCompte, and she said that not with a far away dreamy look, but with a bold, daring stare, straight into my eyes...  She meant precisely what she was proclaiming, and though he had long been dead, and married to another when he died, for their fiery and passionate personaities made them too volatile a match, that love was still as strong as ever in her eyes.  They had parted ways when Randy was very young, but as Zora told me, he had always possessed her heart, and though she did not boast of it, I could see in her eyes the confidence that she knew he had never truly loved another as well.

It has well been observed through the centuries that women such as Zora, if the bare truth is exposed, never know true happiness when the love of their lives is lost from their life.  Instead, the rest of life is lived in a bitter sweet knowledge that it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have known true love at all.  Tonight, in the very organized room where Zora lies on her death bed, not far from her head, on a small oriental designed chest, a picture of Ampton LeCompte in his WWII Army uniform stands in a frame, the enduring evidence of a love lost, but never given up.

I am certain with the last beat of her heart, the last breath on her lips, and the last lucid thought of her mind, she will know just as strongly as on any past day of her life, that passionate love for her Ampton.  Some women are just lucky like that in life.