Category: Uncategorized


I Love Meat


It has been two months since my last missive, and I have missed the daily jotting down of things that roam aimlessly thru my mind.  Hopefully, I have mended my wasteful ways and am now back to allocating the 15 minutes each day I use for writing.  Whenever I lose interest, I go back to 2007/2008 and read some articles I wrote then, and they give me so much pleasure.  Things long forgotten are instantly brought back to memory.  Therein lies my motivation.      

⌘⚽ I’ll bet you are unaware that the most widely consumed meat on Earth is pork.  Personally, I thought it was chicken, but pork is consumed by 36% of Earthly residents and chicken is 2nd with 33%.  My favorite (beef), comes in at a mediocre 24%.  The average person in our country eats 51 lbs of pork each year. You guys are eating a lot of pork!

I’m confident my family doctor thinks I eat too much meat because each time I go in for my yearly physical he always hands me literature on healthy eating, and it never includes very much meat.  I probably wouldn’t be taking a cholesterol pill if I consumed less meat.  I used to eat a lot of steak, but after choking on it back in 2014 and almost losing my life, I switched to meat that wasn’t so dense.  Mostly now, my meat is chicken, hamburger, or something else that’s easily swallowed.  I remember that life-threatening event and it had a lasting impression (thanks to Cindy for saving my life). 

Sometimes, I wonder if we see the past as it actually happened, or do we intentionally forget certain aspects of what occurred.  I believe that all of us have some type of burden to carry from our past, but I also think our past is unchangeable and we should always try to put it out of our mind unless they are beneficial or beautiful memories. 

Anyway, back to the meat thing.  We all know that too much of it will eventually clog our arteries and generate all kinds of health problems.  I walk around with 200 lbs on a frame that my doc tells me should only have 175 lbs.  My only explanation is that, somehow, I believe I’m a healthy 200 lbs.  My doctor ordered an echocardiogram last week, so we’ll see what damage all that meat has done to my cardiovascular system.  I dunno how it can come back showing problems because I feel as healthy as a horse.  We’ll see.  I know that I’m a grateful recipient of undeserved grace.

Update:  The doctor’s office called and said everything looked good.  That made me feel better. 

⚽⌘ It seems as if the heat index for our area in Virginia has been over 100° for the past two weeks, thus, our thrice weekly walks really took its toll.  It would be easy to say, “to heck with it” and stay inside all day, waiting for cooler weather to prevail.  But, upon further reflection, I decided that wasn’t the choice I wanted to make, and it wasn’t a hard decision.  Over 200 years ago, families loaded all they had into wagons pulled by horses and trekked all the way from the Eastern Seaboard of our country to the shores of the Pacific coast.  They did that in the heat of summer and the cold of winter.  Heck, it’s hard for me to visualize anyone today driving a car that far without an air conditioner in it.  I wonder what the settlers of that time would think of the people we have become today.  Yes, I’m confident we still have strong, sturdy people that roll out of bed every morning and work outside in the extreme heat and cold, but a lot of us don’t, we stay inside and find things to do, rather than open the door and walk into a heat index of 110°. 

Well, I decided that I don’t want to be that guy, the one that stays inside and cowers from the heat, I want to stand straight and tall, breathe in that hot humid air and say, to no one in particular, bring it on, I can take it!  What I may have failed to mention is that part of my motivation comes from my wife.  She heads outside in just about any weather, except the rain, doesn’t want her hair to get wet, other than that she’s finding something to do out there.  The odd thing is, she never sweats, nothing, nada, not a drop of salty brine glistens on her forehead.   Turn your head and look in my direction and you would assume I was just in someone’s swimming pool with all my clothes on.  I don’t quite understand why a person doesn’t sweat when the temp is nudging 99°, but then again, she doesn’t have a lot of meat on her bones, unlike the more than plump guy standing beside her, apparently preparing for his role when Satan opens the gates of Hell.  I’m thinking the Lord believes that if he turns up the heat some of this fat will melt from my body, if only I have the willpower to step into his oven. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have no desire to be a pioneer, but neither do I want to become a couch potato.  I’m going with an old proverb that says, “The best time to plant a tree was ten years ago, the second-best time is now”.  My take on that goes like this, “The best time to take a stand was ten years ago, the second-best time is now”.  So, tomorrow when that old temperature gauge heads towards 100°, I’m gonna step out into that oven and take a stand, refusing to stay inside where the temps stay around 78° all day and all night.  But I will be watching to see if the fat melts away 😊.  I am reminded of a quote by Saint Vincent de Paul “Be careful to preserve your health.  It is a trick of the devil which he uses to deceive kind souls, to incite them to do more than they are able, in order that they may no longer be able to do anything”.  Hmm, maybe I need to rethink this thing?

⌘-⚽ A few months ago, our longtime neighbors (Mary Beth & John) moved about four hours away and their lovely granddaughter (Beth Ann/ Alvin) took over their beautiful home.  We now have five handsome boys, anywhere from age 3 to age 12 living next door to us.  It saddened our hearts to see our friends move, but we knew it was the right decision.  They needed to be near their daughter (Robin/Greg) to get help with their health needs.  From experience, I know that as you travel thru life, people enter your circle, stay for a while, and then move on.  Some, you miss very little, and then some you miss a lot.  Mary Beth and John will be missed terribly.  The good news is that when we are finished with COVID-19, we can go visit them.  It looks like that will happen in the Spring of 2021 (7 months).  By then, we will have been marching in place for a year.  That’s a lot of time to relinquish to a virus, especially when you get older and the years you have left get fewer. 

Our time “hunkered down”’ here at home isn’t a total disaster.  We have visited with family, always using a face mask and social distancing, and gone to the grocery/drug stores for food and other necessities.  We spend a lot of time outside working in the yard, hovering over every weed that pops up and immediately sentencing it to the gallows.  As soon as a gumball or pinecone hits the ground, it is pounced on and deposited into my handy cart for disposal.  As you can tell, I have too much time on my hands.  I also spend a lot of time on my PC, but that happens whether we are in the middle of a pandemic, or not 😊. 

If I had to decide what activity I miss the most during this stressful time, it would be visiting my family and friends.  While all the other stuff is important, bus trips to other cities, dining out weekly, attending church in lieu of virtual services, etc. I miss visiting those dear to me the most.  Arthur Brisbane said it best, “A good friend can tell you what is the matter with you in a minute.  He may not seem such a good friend after the telling” 😊. 

Wherever you are in this world, I hope your family loves you as much as mine loves me.  I know you will return their love abundantly.  That is my intent as well.  I am always grateful that you take the time to read my missives.  Until next time, be well….Tommy


God Grace by Frank Shortt


                                              God’s Grace

Without the grace of God mankind cannot understand the plan of the Creator. Throughout my life I have experienced many high mountains and low valleys. For some reason, each time, I have been spared the inevitable that each human must face sooner or later in this fleshly body.

The first book I was introduced to, as a child, was the Bible. As I went to church and was taught by Mrs. Audrey Addison at the young people’s meeting, I was very quick in finding the ‘Bible drill’ scriptures that she would require us to find. As a result, she referred to me as the ‘Little Preacher’ and prophesied over me that I would eventually preach the gospel. She would be happy to know that for the past 50 years, I have preached to anyone who would listen about the wonderful love of God and how He promised to live in each of His children.

The Shortt family was enjoying a picnic at a small meadow beside the river known as ‘Little River’, in Southwest Virginia. Its beginnings are in Tazewell County at the Tennessee watershed and ends up in the Clinch River. There are several species of fish, namely, Rock bass (Red Eyes), black bass, and several species of sunfish (bluegill, crappie, etc.). I was about seven or eight years old at the time and swam like a hunk of concrete. Although I lacked the ability to swim, I took it upon myself to get into an old tire inner tube to float in the pool below the meadow. When I had floated out to the middle of the pool, I began moving around thinking I could somehow guide the tube back to shore. Suddenly, being very small for my age, I slipped through the opening of the tube. After reemerging, I must have cried out for help, and a savior in the form of Emory Osborne, who was there with his family, swam out, placing me on the tube, and floating me back to shore and safety. I was never able to thank him properly and by the time I found out he had moved to Colorado, it was too late for me to thank him as he had passed this life. God used this man to preserve me for a future use.

I had gone to a tent revival in the town of Doran with some neighborhood boys of Shortt Gap. We were awaiting the meeting to start, and it was decided that we would go down to the Clinch River for a swim before the preacher began the service. Most of the boys were strong swimmers, one in particular being Elmer Pruitt, known as Sputnik, who would soon play an important role in my life.

I was somewhat of a daredevil in those days, being about eleven or twelve, and could only dog paddle if the water was shallow enough. When everyone else jumped in, I did likewise, not thinking of the deepness of the water and the swift current at this time. I suddenly found myself being swept away, in water over my head, and could not reach bottom. I cried out for help and Sputnik swam out and pulled me back to safety. I was able to thank him properly and several times thereafter.  I always considered him to be my Savior in flesh, and so he was, as God used him to preserve my life.

While in the Air Force 1960-64, I drank quite a bit as alcohol was readily available on base, as well as, off base. While drinking with some friends at a club in Carmichael, California, one of the men, Tex R. asked me and a couple of my friends to go flying with him as he owned a twin engine, Beechcraft Bonanza airplane. Being quite inebriated already, we agreed unanimously to go. What we did not know, nor care, being under the influence of booze, we would be required to ride in the rumble seat usually reserved for baggage. I was near the passing out stage when we took off and by the time we reached an altitude to head toward Reno, I was already sleeping soundly. Just as we were about 10,000 feet over Reno unable to land due to heavy snowing, I stretched out and kicked the baggage door open. Had it not been for Shorty Smitherman, my friend who worked at the airport in Fair Oaks, California, I would have been sucked out of the door and goodbye Frank! He pulled me to safety and as we held the door shut with our bare hands all the way back to Fair Oaks, we both had near frozen fingers and quite a sobering up experience. Tex was pretty shook up as he was unaware of anything that transpired in the rumble seat. Besides, his girlfriend was keeping him quite busy as she made over him as he tried to fly the airplane.  Once again, a good friend became the Savior of my ignorant being!

About twelve years ago I went for a walk to the local shopping center, as is my morning habit, had my coffee and a roll, and was on my way back to our town home in Evergreen, California. On the way back I encountered an older gentleman named Joe who had recently had open heart surgery. Before I saw Joe, I had been experiencing some strange feelings in my heart area, a burning sensation, as well as some pains, not like gas pains, but much sharper! When I stopped to talk to Joe, the burning and pains subsided. I always stopped when I saw Joe to ask of his welfare and his progress with the surgery. We passed the time for about fifteen minutes, talking of the things of God, and I continued on my way. The burning sensation and the pains returned, even sharper this time. When this happened, I was only about a half a block from our home. As soon as I entered the door, I immediately climbed the stairs informing my wife that I believed that I was having a heart attack or on the verge of one. She insisted that it was probably only heartburn and that I should take an Alka Seltzer and see what occurred. I became persistent and told her that if she would not take me to the hospital, I would drive myself! She immediately dressed herself and we began the trip to Kaiser Hospital in South San Jose. Upon arrival, we informed the emergency crew that we believed that I was having a heart attack and they immediately placed me in an emergency room where a young lady Vietnamese doctor began preliminary treatment for one experiencing a heart attack. By then my daughters, my grandson, and my best friend had arrived, and they all began to pray for me. Just as I had the heart attack, a young Chinese Cardiologist appeared out of nowhere and as I had the attack, the needle dropped to zero, and she instantly administered nitroglycerin into the main artery of my heart. As I came to, the first voice I heard was a soothing, pleading voice saying, “Frank, come back to us, Frank, come back to us!” It was the voice of Charlotte Vu, over my body pleading for me to come back as if I was her own father! She arrived just in time, a miracle in itself. Did I see lights? No! Only blackness! I must have not gone out of my body long enough to enter the realm of light. She was used of God to preserve my life!

As I mended, after a stint was administered into my main artery, which was completely blocked by cholesterol, I wished to send Charlotte Vu a dozen red roses, which I did on one of my visits to the Cardiologist to which I was assigned. I keep the thank-you note from her as a reminder of her diligence and caring nature which caused her to be my Savior in flesh at the right moment!

One Sunday, my faithful friend and brother, Guido Droira invited my wife and I to have lunch with him and his wife. We agreed to go to Black Angus in Milpitas, California to have some meat as I had not had beef in a long time. For some reason, the service was very slow that day and my body requires food at a certain time, otherwise, I become very weak and begin to shake. I ordered ribs and chicken and when the food finally arrived, the ribs were somewhat dry making them hard to chew and to swallow. Upon taking a portion into my mouth, I attempted to swallow it. I must have not chewed it thoroughly in my haste to satisfy my hunger. It became stuck in my throat cutting off my breathing. As I was turning red in the face, with signs that I was having difficulty breathing, my good friend Guido, having knowledge of the Heimlich maneuver, went behind me and began the process of dislodging the piece of rib. After a couple of attempts, and a trip to the restroom, the piece finally popped out and my breathing was restored. The apathy of our race was apparent at that time as not another person around us offered help of any kind, and the room was completely full. Once again, I owe my life to a quick-thinking human being who became my Savior in flesh. I am thankful that all these people have been there at the right time to preserve me for future use by God.

As a human being, I have questioned God as to why I have been allowed to live through so many attempts to end my life! As I walked one morning, I encountered a young nurse on my walk and we began to talk of life and relationships. By the time I finished chatting with her, she thanked me for being there at this time in her life when she is encountering hardships and difficult decisions. This allowed me to look past the curtain of time for an instant to realize that, my total job on earth is not finished.

Praise God for his wonderful grace to me throughout my life!


Murder Wholesale…Frank Shortt


Murder Wholesale

Frank Shortt

 

What next? Who is minding the store? How did the Las Vegas gunman sneak all those weapons and ammunition into the huge Mandalay Bay​​ Resort and Casino without anyone even suspecting anything amiss?

The United States is supposed to be a civilized nation. What used to be law and order has become unlawful chaos! Citizens, so called, take advantage of a police shooting to loot and burn their neighborhood merchants. There are few arrests as, during the chaos, no one could tell who did what! Is this to be the norm in our civilized nation? Whether a person is killed in a riot or in a peaceful demonstration, a murder was committed. A weapon had​​ to be bought, or stolen, to commit the act!

 

If the police in Las Vegas had taken the shooter, Stephen Paddock, alive, what would have been the outcome of the trial? Most of these incidents cost the taxpayers of municipalities millions of dollars for just​​ one trial as our civilized Attorneys battle back and forth, the defense claims temporary insanity, and finally a jury will sometimes, not always, recommend the death penalty for the shooter. Then the waiting for the right opportunity to carry out the sentence, as our civilized Attorneys battle back and forth as to how the miscreant should be annihilated.​​ 

With all the to-do concerning the “Worst Mass Shooting in U.S. History”, a few facts could be overlooked. How many of us civilized U.S. Citizens have taken a look at ourselves lately? How many of us have ‘murdered someone in our hearts’ in the near past. That person who cut you off unexpectedly on the highway, did you just yearn to pull out a gun and do away with him or her? How about the person who voted differently than yourself in the recent elections? Would you like to maim, or even kill, that person? (Some crazy things have​​ been happening in recent protests across our nation!) When you went to a gambling resort with all the money you possessed, did you​​ decide in your heart to burn the place down as you left the front door completely broke. Could this have been Stephen Paddock’s beef?

 

Whatever the reasons for our outrages, have we stopped to think how many people are going to be affected by our negative​​ responses on Twitter and other media outlets? Haven’t we stirred up enough people? This question can be asked, from the President of the United States, to the homeless person on the dusty riverbank!​​ 

The plea of most sane-thinking Americans at this time is: Haven’t we seen enough of American killing American just because we happen to be of a different religious or political persuasion? Isn’t it time that neighborhoods begin to act like neighborhoods instead of acting like jungle animals, stalking each other​​ for a few measly dollars or to sate an old grudge? Talk about terrorism! We have more terrorism in one​​ rundown neighborhood in one weekend than the so-called terrorists are actually harming each other or ourselves.​​ 

 

Next time you have an outburst of hatred, stop and ask yourself. Will I harm someone who is responsible for several people? Will I lose my own life or end up being taken out of society for the good of all people? It has been said that Love, not hate, will accomplish more to help humanity than​​ all the protesting and rioting one could do. Think on these things!

 

A weapon does not kill or harm anyone. It is the hatred behind the weapon that does the damage. Whether a person is murdered with a hatpin or a sub-machine gun, it is hatred in some form​​ that did the job!

What’s Wrong With This Picture?…By Reese


 ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​ ​​​​ WHAT'S WRONG WITH THIS PICTURE? 
 
A front-page story in our local paper quoted a very recent story in the 

Washington Post newspaper regarding a just-completed survey pertaining​​ 

to the Washington D.C. area interstate highway system (includes 

surrounding parts of Virginia/Maryland).
It indicates Washington​​ D.C​​ presently has the worst traffic-jams of any 

major city in this country. That right, D.C. has traffic nightmares that at 
present exceed the legendary traffic woes of New York City, Atlanta, 

Los Angeles, and Denver. 
While giving due mention to traffic problems on I-495 (the beltway around Washington), and a couple of interstate feeder-highways in Virginia 

and Maryland, the article zeroed in on I-95, from its intersection with 

I-495, to a point south near Fredericksburg, Va. 
The story quoted median wait/lost time for the average driver using that 

road each day-coming and going to work. 

They quoted the cost of wasted gasoline for those stalled vehicles 
and when totaled ran into millions of dollars. ​​ While it’s hard to put dollar figures on it, add up the time the drivers are stuck in 

traffic jams, for say, 10-15-20 years. You could be talking about two years 

of a person's life LOST-sitting stuck in that jam-looking at the dirty 

bumper of the car in front of it-breathing air heavy with residue from 

auto exhausts, denied time with their family, etc. 
Let's look into the cost from another angle;​​ the psychological cost to 

humans. 
In the 1980s into the 90s, I was the Claims Division Manager of a major 

insurance company for any/all claims in Maryland, Delaware, 

District of Columbia, and some of Northern Virginia. I am not exaggerating when I say that seldom a week passed that we didn't get med pay 
claims from policyholders who were punched/assaulted by irate motorists 

who felt our policyholder(s) 'cut them off' or 'cut in front of them' in a 

line of traffic. 

These physical attacks usually resulted in injuries that required medical 

attention-and we, their auto insurance carrier, would be responsible for 

paying their medical bills. 
Oh yes, bills like that ARE covered by auto med pay insurance. 
 Drivers stuck in the daily traffic jams-both in the mornings and evenings-five days a week-relegated to literally inching along the road to/from work-causes resentment, anger, and hostility to build in them. 
When someone cuts them off or ducks in front of them delaying their arrival even more-it pushes their anger to the breaking point. 
Many times, the 'offended' driver gets​​ out of their car-runs to the near-by 
car of the 'offender', jerks open their door and punches them in the face-maybe even​​ drags them out of the car and beat them. 

If the 'offending driver' has​​ their doors locked-denies the furious driver 

from physically beating them,​​ then​​ 'angry driver' will often take a 

tire iron, baseball bat, or any other handy object and beat the doors, fenders,hood and roof of the 'offending driver’s car to the tune of $5000 

in repair costs. 

Conversely,​​ they may just break out the car window-reach inside the car-and give the 'offending driver' a punch in the face-while calling them every 

foul name in the book (and some not in​​ the book). 
I once saw a claim involving a city bus driver in Washington D.C. and one ofour insured drivers. The bus driver-cut off, he claimed- got out of his bus, 

marched up to our insured's car, climbed on the hood​​ and jumped up 

and down until it was totally destroyed-and after that marched 

back to his bus. 
The insured then got out of his car, walked back to give the bus driver a 

beating. The bus driver shut the bus door, denying our insured the 

satisfaction of giving him a 'horse whipping'. Our​​ insured then used his 

brute strength to pull apart the bus doors (3-4 inches), and that caused 

the bus' brakes to come on-and stay on. Now the bus couldn't move-the 

passengers couldn't get​​ off-and our insured drove off-leaving the bus driver 

to call the bus garage for emergency road service-and another bus to take 

the passengers to their destinations. 
Washington D.C has traffic situations like this day after day, after day. 
It takes a mental toll on otherwise sane, civil, people. 
Now turn the page of the newspaper and read the story of Amazon.com's 

intention to build a brand-new east coast distribution center. 

One of their qualifications for any prospective city wishing to have Amazon build their store is​​ they must be a city of at least​​ ONE MILLION people. 
What is wrong with this picture? 
Cities with populations of one million people like Washington D.C., Atlanta and New York already have: 

(1) traffic problems 

(2) overcrowded schools 
(3) real estate prices so high you are left to wonder if people there measured 

the cost of homes not in cost-per-square-foot, but in per-square-inch (for even modest homes on postage stamp lots). 
What is Amazon going to say to the employees they want to move to their 

new east coast operation? Huh? How about, "Hey-we'll raise your salary-you can put your kid in a private school; you can live in a condo-who wants 

to mow grass anyway; don't get shaky about the traffic problems-use the subway, cars are a pain." 
At the risk of sounding facetious, I think it is time for legislation that forbids crowded cities to a
dd even one additional soul until all under-populated towns have reached their optimum​​ level. 
…. Reese
   

 

 

 

 

Fudge, Fudge, Fudge! by Cindy


Fudge, Fudge, Fudge! by Cindy

Functional, Fun, Fudge,

Early in life we prepare;​​ prepare for school, college, jobs, vocations, careers, marriage, children, independent living, and​​ possibly retirement. ​​ No matter how prepared we are, events occur in our lives that really crinkle our neatly folded life maps...events such as illness, divorce, estrangement, and even death of loved ones. ​​ In between and around these preparations and events, we strive to carry on in meaningful and useful ways. ​​ We attempt to continue to live as FUNCTIONAL human beings. ​​ 

My parents allowed me to have horses once I turned​​ eleven. ​​ My first horse, a Welsh pony, cost $150; the 2nd one $175. ​​ My family competed in Saturday play days which offered barrel racing, pole bending, and other events at $1 per event. ​​ I​​ trained my own horses, made my own bridles and reins from ski rope, and traveled in a secondhand trailer. ​​ Grades had to be kept up. ​​ I was definitely functional. ​​ I had a special activity, purpose, or task. ​​ Horseback riding finally gave way to​​ high school extracurricular activities which also gave me purpose because I performed them, not my parents. ​​ 

Now let's get to FUN! I had fun growing up and knew it was important for learning. ​​ As a​​ teacher,​​ I had to post classroom rules. ​​ They had to be concise and enforceable but not get in the way of the curriculum. ​​ KISS (Keep it simple, silly!) really is best to prevent boredom before actually getting to the subject matter. When attempting​​ to meet goals and objectives set forth for students and teachers, fun was used to increase desired results and decrease those not desired. ​​ You had to conduct class with the exuberance of a pop star, drama queen, actress, star athlete, and disciplinarian. ​​​​ One of the FUN things most 5th graders remembered was the time I stood on my head for 5 minutes on the stage in the cafeteria after lunch. This was a grade level incentive for a decrease in negative behavior.  ​​​​ 

FUDGE! FUDGE! FUDGE! There's a little shop I visit about 35 miles from my home for fudge every now and again. ​​ The fudge is the good stuff, but the memories it evokes are even better. ​​ They go back to simpler times. Times when we as​​ children could ride bikes across town, play outside under street lights, then go inside with ​​ our families. ​​ One of my family rituals was watching The Red Skelton Show. Mama would make some sort of special treat for us like popcorn, brownies, or my favorite, fudge. Daddy would kiddingly call my little sister Clem Kadiddlehopper after one of Red's characters. She would giggle, I'd roll my eyes, then we'd all settle back to enjoy the rest of the evening.

Functional, fun, fudge....they work for me. What about​​ you?