We see articles which suggest we should step out of our comfort zone, meet new people, learn something new, take up a new hobby, and it sounds good. Yet, trying something new can be a little unsettling. Something new might keep us sharp. We might discover a new talent, food, or interesting people we knew nothing about. The political side of the same suggestion is ‘diversity is our strength’, which is debatable. Diversity might be a good thing as long as we all have a common goal. Do all Americans currently have the same common goal? I’m not so sure, anymore.
For me, I don’t need to search for something new. All I do is put my feet on the floor in the morning and hold on tight. Newness and diversity arrive at my door daily, to present unusual and sometimes beautiful results.
A Spanish Lord, a polished urban salesman, party girls, a Brigadier General, a Nubian queen, Aussies, and a lovely couple from rural America. Would you ever put together such a list for a dinner party? I couldn’t make up such a story if I tried. This small group had wildly different interests, personal experiences, languages, societal classes, and cultures. Yet, they all came to our house for one glorious and rather noteworthy weekend. What happened was pure magic.
We’ve often marvel at how people “melt” in our B&B. Traveling used to be refined and elegant, but today, the process of planes, trains, and automobiles, are riddled with personal offenses. When guests arrive, we are aware they’ve been through something of a shock. We understand and give them room, and a little bit of patience, to settle down. By the next morning, everyone, and I mean every single person (save one – but for a later story) melts into a polite, interesting, and engaged human being. The personality transformation is uncanny and absolute. I have hundreds, nay, thousands of examples. With all the talk of ‘division’ in our country, I often wonder what would happen if I could just get people to spend a weekend here….., or maybe if they merely had dinner together…., maybe we would all get long…., or at least listen to each other.
While we’re all waiting on the President’s SOTU and we’re tired of listening to pundits endlessly speculate about the President’s speech and thoughts, I thought we could pass the time with a real story of diversity. The following story is one of the best examples of how people are all good and kind at their core, and how people, who would never be placed in the same Venn Diagram, came together. It’s odd how their rough edges melt away, but it happens, without fail.
It was the second week of November and we shut down the B&B to get ready for Christmas. The staff and I were up in the attic, sorting decorations by tree or room for placement in the main house. Our attic is our hidden gem. It’s about 2300sq. ft., wide pine flooring, with a 22′ ceiling in the center. The rain was coming down outside, so we could hear it on the roof. About 4 of my staff/girlfriends, were up there with me. Our annual tradition takes months to plan, and we were looking forward to the “decking of the halls”. We had Christmas carols playing on the boombox, we were singing, wearing our Santa hats, grooving in the mood to put up 15 Christmas trees. The phone rang and shattered our mood.
On the phone was an urban salesman. He had arranged a big weekend for a client with people flying in to meet, and he was shocked to learn he couldn’t find two nice hotel rooms. A large local event had taken hotel rooms as far away as 30 miles from our metro. I had been turning down rooms for months. He was desperate. He begged me for two rooms. I resisted. By then, the girls were looking at me with squished noses. They knew what was coming. We had already dragged trees and garland down from the attic and made a huge mess. Taking guests meant we had to stop, clean up, and delay our fun. Again, he begged. He sounded nice and I capitulated. I scribbled his information on an ornament boxtop, and vaguely recall the moment he told me the two women would arrive separately. To placate my girlfriends, we continued decorating for hours. We knew guests did not arrive until after 4:00pm. We agreed to stop at 2:30pm and straighten up our mess downstairs. Before noon, I had the other two rooms booked.
At noon, one of the girls went downstairs and grabbed all the fixings for sandwiches and a huge plate of Christmas cookies. She returned upstairs, we munched on sandwiches and cookies, singing while we worked.
A little before 1:00pm, I heard women’s voices on the attic stairs, “Hello? Anyone there?”, lots of laughing and giggling. It was the two women, arriving way too early. I sincerely apologized for not being ready but they were unphased. Their eyes were wide, scanning the attic. It really did look like a Santa workshop. The women were lovely, early 30’s, our age, and they fit into our gaggle of women quite well. They insisted, they dropped their luggage on the first floor and they wanted to help us!!!!!!!!! Great, “Want a sandwich or a cookie?”, I offered.
With extra hands, we hauled, moved, and strung lights until about 3:00pm. By the time we had to stop, the two new guests/girls were like old friends. We got them settled into their rooms, cleaned up the hallways, changed clothes, my girlfriends disappeared, lipstick on —– ready for guests to arrive, and time to start dinner for my own family.
The General was the first to arrive (other than the girls), straight from DC. He was physically impressive, a tall man, broad shoulders, a chest full of medals, with a voice tone as clear as a church bell. His uniform was so orderly, I recall wondering if he stood up on the entire plane flight – not a wrinkle anywhere. I wondered aloud if we should wait on his wife, but he explained she was fooling with the luggage and to go ahead and show him to his room. He reminded me he need a late checkout because he was giving a speech in the morning, and they wanted to change clothes before returning to DC. No sweat, sir. I showed him to his room but I was called away and missed the wife.
The next to arrive was the salesman. He was polished and smooth, hugged me bigly. He was grateful. When one of the girls heard his voice, she came running downstairs and jumped into his arms, almost tackling him. “Gee, that was friendly,”, I thought. He was squared away quickly, and I went back to making dinner.
Another couple checked in, delightful, with an accent I couldn’t peg. I showed them to their rooms.
We were missing one guy for one of the girls, the client of the salesman. About 8:00pm, I was worming around in the kitchen, getting set up for the morning’s breakfast, when the salesman knocked on the kitchen door. He had a problem. His client was stuck at LaGuardia, had missed one flight, and would call our house phone to let (me) know when he was arriving. “He’s flying in from Barcelona”, said the salesman. I stopped and cocked my head, a little unusual, “Barcelona, eh?”. “Yeah,”, responded the salesman, “he’s a great guy but it’s the first time he’s been in the US. He owns a factory we do business with.” I agreed to let the salesman know when I heard from “Barcelona guy”.
So far, everything was pretty normal, fairly typical of a weekend. Not for long….
About 10:00pm, the “Barcelona guy” called. He was forlorn and upset, completely out of his element. He sounded like a lost child. I was the only phone number he had in the entire United States. I wanted to hug him across the wire – he needed it. He told me he was catching the last flight of the evening, different airline, and if he got lost or misplaced, I should notify “XYZ”, inferring that he might be dead by the time he arrived. I laughed to myself, but I assured him I had friends in NYC (because everyone in America knows everyone else, right?) and I would “FIND HIM no matter what happened”. He seemed comforted. I let the salesman and the one girl know he would be arriving late. The girl was NOT happy.
I was sound asleep at 1:00am when the doorbell rang with the arrival of “Barcelona guy”. I was wearing a flannel robe, no makeup, and groggy. I flung open the door to come face to face with a Castilian God. He was so breathtakingly handsome, I was instantly wide awake. In his arms, he had a huge cardboard box. He set it down and FELL into my arms with relief, “Thank God you are here. I have traveled so far.”, crisp lilt to the accent. Oh honey, I could listen to him talk for days….. Awkward at first, I patted his back as if he was a little boy, reassuring him he was ‘safe and home with us’.
Within moments, the one girl and the salesman were downstairs, welcomes and hugs all around. The salesman grabbed his luggage, to carry it to his room but asked about the cardboard box. He nodded to me and said the box was a case of wine…., “for our gracious hostess, from my family vineyard, and the House of XYZ”. He reached for my hand, half-bowed, formally introduced himself as Lord XYZ, and kissed the top of my hand. So, there I was, accepting a case of wine, from a super-fine Spanish Lord, in my flannel nightgown, ……sans lipstick. Surreal.
I wandered back to bed wondering if what just happened, really did happen. I thought about waking up my husband, but decided against it. He wouldn’t have believed me anyway.
The next morning, the real fun began. There was no formality as was usual. No one would stay in the dining room. They all kept wandering in and out of the kitchen to talk to me while I was making breakfast. My first husband, who was burly but incredibly well educated, was helping me, but mostly sipping coffee and reading the paper. The two girls were the first down. They came into the kitchen and one pitched herself on a corner stool and another hiked up to sit on my counter. “Who sits on a counter? Was she raised by wolves?”, I thought to myself but brushed it off.
The girls laughed and giggled while my husband entertained them. I was pretty busy making breakfast, but joined in the revelry. When the salesman and the Lord came down, the girls disappeared to greet them. I made a comment to my husband how nice they were and how helpful they had been the day before. It was the first time my husband actually met the girls. He looked at me, put his hand on my shoulder, moved in close to me, and flatly stated, “You know they’re hookers, right?”
I felt my knees buckle a little as my mind went from a steady idle at 20mph to Mach 3. “Nooooo, they caaaaan’t be”, I was doubtful. My husband half-grinned and said, “Oh, yes. They’re expensive alright, but those two are world class party girls.” “What are we going to do?”, I said. He looked at me and laughed, “We’re not taking pictures but it’s going to be a fun weekend.” I was discombobulated, definitely no longer in control, hanging on.
I made breakfast for the salesman, The Spanish Lord, and the two girls, but they lingered at the table, enjoying the conversation. I was sitting at the end, when the General came down and took an odd chair next to me, coffee only for him. He requested breakfast when he returned. He was dressed immaculately and ready to head out to give his speech. The table discussion was spirited and everyone asked him the details of his speech, which he willingly shared. I was still sitting there, with my jaw in my hands, elbows on the table, engrossed in the General’s speech, when his wife descended the staircase.
Time slowed down when she came into view. She was dressed in a small blue and white gingham check pajama set with a matching robe, which flowed behind her. Her neck was long, like a giraffe or Audrey Hepburn. Her face was chiseled and gleaming without a speck of makeup. She poured coffee for herself and assisted others after offering, kindly. Her mannerisms were almost royal. To date, in my entire life, she was, hands down, the most naturally beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She looked like a Nubian queen. I leaned over to the General and whispered, “The two of you need to have a dozen children.” He smiled in acknowledgment. He arose to kiss his wife goodbye and he was off. The queen joined the conversation but coffee only. She was waiting until he got back to have breakfast.
Enter the final couple. Come to find out, they owned the Hard Rock Hotel in Sydney, Australia, and were in town to buy Elvis memorabilia at a high-end auction. That explained the accent and began a discussion of hotels and restaurants all over the world…., which most of them had visited. The Aussies had breakfast but all lingered at the table, as if we were all waiting on the General “to come home”.
I learned the girls met the salesman in New Orleans over a wild weekend and wanted to get together again, within driving distance. The Spanish Lord was a new addition to their group. I also learned one of the girls was having a birthday the following week and secretly planned to make her a souffle the next day, with birthday candles. I casually mentioned mine followed her birthday in a few weeks, which began a discussion of astrological signs and the veracity therein.
The salesman was in and out of the house, getting the car situated for afternoon activities they planned, and we thought, locked himself out of the house when the doorbell rang again. One of the girls popped up to answer the door but it was the General, “home again”. I heard her say, “How was the speech?”. He picked her up like a rag doll and carried her twenty feet to the entrance of the dining room and said, “I was a HIT!”. Meanwhile, I’m thinking, “Omg, my General is carrying a high-priced call girl.”, but I was the only one who thought it was strange. By the time the General and his Nubian queen had breakfast, it was almost noon. The General and the queen = melted.
Everyone was calm and oozing comfort. Everyone was happy. Mission accomplished. I poked around a little but never found any evidence the girls were …. you know.
The General and his wife checked out to return to DC. Big hugs all around from everyone, like they were all classmates who spent years together. I flipped their room and waited on the next guests to arrive, a couple from less than 10 miles away, who were celebrating their 15th wedding anniversary. They were kind and humble, working class, and I could tell, saving up for a night at our establishment was a treat. I gave them the red carpet treatment.
All day long, people were in and out of the house, as is typical. People were in and out of the kitchen as well. The Lord arranged for a picnic lunch and I cobbled one together with a divine wicker ensemble purchased from a garage sale. The couple from Sydney were victorious at the auction. The salesman and the other girl took off to the city for sightseeing but came home early. I learned his girlfriend got the idea to decorate the Christmas tree in their room and sneaked up to the attic to get the decorations. She wandered into the kitchen to tell me what she was doing and we rustled up a plate of cookies and some cinnamon coffee. Thus, the neatnik urban salesman spent the majority of the day decorating my Christmas tree, and he loved every minute of it = hardcore exterior = melted.
The Spanish Lord and the other girl returned from their ‘picnic’ and there wasn’t enough space between them to slip in a butter knife = Spanish Lord = completely melted.
The local couple booked a candlelight dinner for their anniversary, so I was in the kitchen, working away. I had the table all arranged for the local couple. Beautiful linen and 30″ tall tapers in the candelabras but I had a problem. It really wasn’t fair. You can smell Cajun roasted beef tenderloin all over the house when it cooks. One by one, all the other guests found their way to the kitchen to figure out what the hell I was cooking that smelled so good. Thus, 30 minutes before serving, I had the two girls, the salesman, the Spanish Lord, the Aussies, and my husband, 8 of us, in the kitchen – who ALL made a deal to help me serve, so they could partake in the leftovers.
When the local couple came down to dinner, she was wearing her best dress. Her husband pinned a corsage on her, so sweet. The Spanish Lord pulled out her chair to seat her, lit the candles, and unfurled the napkins to place in their laps. He then uncorked a bottle of wine, from his vineyard, in honor of their anniversary. It was magical. We were all peeking from the butler’s pantry.
My husband and the Spanish Lord served dinner in matching red aprons. The Aussies jazzed up my scratch Fettuccine Alfredo to new heights and it was delicious. I’ll never forget the sight of the Spanish Lord fussing over the linen folds in a silver basket for the yeast rolls. Amazing. The girls assembled the dessert, cheesecake with a Grand Marnier strawberry sauce. We all went in to sing to them. What a wonderful evening! While the local couple lingered, we all ate in our family den, hanging out, like college students, with our feet strewn all over the coffee tables. Completely and totally = melted.
The local couple retired to their room and the women helped me clean up the kitchen, like we were all cousins after Thanksgiving dinner. The guys drank and told stories, it was marvelous. Fat and happy, I blew out the candles and we all went to bed.
The next morning, the husband of the local couple awkwardly assumed the Spanish Lord was part of my staff, and was kind of surprised to see him sitting at the breakfast table to be served. We all giggled a little. Crisis averted. I made the souffle for the one girl and we all sang Happy Birthday to her. Lots of celebrating and singing that weekend.
At one point, the conversation turned to the Lord’s Hunting lodge in Africa. The local husband chimed in with an extraordinary southern accent and said, “Huntin’ Lodge? Whatchya’ll hunt in Africa?” and “Whatchya shooting?”, which beget an intense discussion of weaponry by two men who were clearly equals in the discipline and were both LONG on practical expertise. Fascinating conversation and mix of culture/class but exactly on the same page with each other, almost like they were dancing, together, with neither one leading. The convo and breakfast ended with the Lord inviting the local guy to come and visit his “African Hunting Lodge”. Sturdy handshake, they were compatriots. Stunning.
By noon, everyone was gone and I was flipping laundry, still in a fog, trying to process the events over the weekend. They were all good people and could not be MORE different, but at the core, they were all the same. Extraordinary things happen at the most unusual times.
The next week melded into the following week, and one night, as I was 20 minutes from serving a seated formal dinner for 40……. the phone rang, and it was the salesman.
Now, folks….., if John the Baptist walked into my kitchen, 20 minutes before serving, I would probably tell him to “Hang on”. Yet again, the salesman was insistent and said, “Hey, did you get my package?” I had no idea what he was talking about and was extremely busy. I was being arrogant and snobby because of the time pressure, which was horrible of me. I thought to myself, “Eyeroll, if he’s sent me a bottle of salsa or salad dressing, as a thank you gift, I will open it when I’m done serving dinner.” He persisted, of course, and said he checked with FedEx and the package had been delivered, “It’s important.”, he said. I stopped what I was doing and sent someone to the front door to retrieve the package. “Hang on”, I mumbled, while I was whispering instructions to kitchen staff.
The salesman said, “You haven’t opened it yet? Good. You HAVE to open it while I’m on the phone.” Okay, fine. I opened the brown wrapping to find elegant silver gray wrapping and the “M” logo which looked familiar to me. I was puzzled and paused for a minute. With the phone between my cheek and shoulder, I said, “What have you done?”
He said, “Just open it………”
I tore into the box, while he was waiting, to find an opera length strand of Mikimoto Pearls. Ladies, I’m a jewelry nut. I knew I was holding several thousand dollars worth of pearls. I immediately held them up to a garrish fluorescent kitchen light to check the luster of the pearls. I was speechless, “What…..?”, I was blubbering like an imbecile. “Yeah”, he said, “I just wanted to thank you for a wonderful weekend. The tree, the dinner, hanging out at breakfast, the easiness of it all. It could not have gone better. We had such a great time. And I remembered you said your birthday was today. I thought it was good timing.” I was stuttering, “This is a beautiful gift… and way too expensive.” He brushed off the cost and took pride in remembering my exact birthday. I politely countered, “You know, my birthday really isn’t today, it’s tomorrow, but this sure is a great way to start!”.
He said, “You don’t understand. Today is your birthday.” I was being prissy and thought, is he arguing with me again, I know my own birthday, but he continued, “It is tomorrow. I’m calling you to wish you Happy Birthday, from Tokyo.”
Oh.
Me = Completely melted.

Following the theme of Triple T’s Spring Daily Thread, I thought it might be a good time to tell the story about “Our Sanctuary”, which helps the birds, bees, trees, and most importantly, kids.
Before we bought the “big house”, we were living in “the little house” which backed up to the school property on the north side of the school. My step son was 5yrs old when I came into his life. We spent a lot of time together for reasons I won’t go into. He was young and learning but had a particularly hard time being compassionate, and was overly fearful – about anything. It wasn’t normal, especially for a boy, and I did my best to address the issues.
I fed the birds at our kitchen window. We named a pair of nuthatches Gertrude and Seymour, and my stepson was fascinated. He was terrified of spiders, snakes, bees, roaches, any kind of bug, and would squeal like a teenage girl. I brought home some autumn gourds to decorate for Halloween. A spider was amongst the gourds and he immediately wanted me to “squish it”. He was overly upset and I was unphased. I hallowed out one gourd and hung it by the kitchen sink. “Fred” the house spider, lived with us for years. Bizarre? Yes, but it worked.
Once, I caught him in the backyard, swinging a tennis racket, killing wood bees. He knocked one into a birdbath. While he watched the woodbee struggle, upside down in the birdbath, and he said, “I’m watching it drown.” I moved to saved the woodbee and he blocked me, “Don’t do that, the bee will sting you and kill you!” Straight-faced, I looked at him and said, ‘The bee’s wings are stuck because of the water tension. If I help this bee, he will go home and tell all his friends I’m the kind and gentle woodland princess and not to hurt me.” My step-son looked at me and was clearly, baffled. Then, I stuck my finger out to the bee, and the bees legs grabbed hold of my finger. The bee rested on the top of my finger, while his wings dried in the sun. I arose and pretended to talk to the bee and my stepson. Pretty soon, the bee flew away. From that moment on, he was convinced I was a woodland princess with special powers over flora and fauna.
We were on vacation and visited a butterfly house, when suddenly, hundreds of butterflies landed on me. They were all over me. Other visitors were taking pictures and in awe when my step son de facto stated, “She’s the woodland princess. They like her.” Other things happened with horses, birds, even fish, which added to my allure.
We bought the “big house” and I thought everyone was happy, but I caught my step son crying one day as we were packing and moving. I asked him why he was upset and he revealed he was worried about Gertrude and Seymour, and that the birds and his wood bees would die if we were not there. Fred the Spider was already firmly ensconced in the new house. Interesting problem, I thought about what to do.
Slowly, we moved the birds with us, or so my step son thought. Every few days, I would move the bird feeders further to the back of the little house’s lot. Finally, I moved the bird feeders to the back of the lot of the big house. He watched, diligently, waiting for nuthatches to appear. And what do you know, nuthatches appeared at the big house.
He was 7yrs old when we bought the house in March, and unknown to me, the legend of me being the woodland princess had grown. He was telling kids at school about my special powers.
About the same time, my step son’s mother decided to enroll him in an expensive after school program and he was no longer allowed to spend vast amounts of time with me. Typical ex-wife behavior. I get it. Yet, I seemed to adopt other kids.
Again, the big house is next door to the town’s school. The 4th grade classrooms have enormous windows which look out into our walled brick garden. There’s a slim single driveway between the windows and our brick wall. The school’s foundation is higher thus the windows offer a perfectly angled view into our backyard. Yes, we can imagine, 90yrs of 4th graders have let their mind wander to what is happening with flora and fauna, instead of paying attention to a teacher. Compounding the distraction, our home was abandoned for 23yrs, thus, the brick garden took on the appearance of a wild forest. Because I set up the bird feeders, bird houses, and a few bird baths, the backyard had even more activity than before. They could see me, in the backyard, digging, and clearing, and feeding birds every day.
To the kids, it was confirmation bias that, indeed, I was a woodland princess. I had no idea. Instead of the legend of the house being haunted, I became the “good” woodland princess who moved in. Ahhhh, the mind of a child.
As the men tackled the large items inside the house, I worked on the exterior front gardens and landscaping, which was a barren wreck. We pulled nasty overgrown holly bushes out with dump trucks. I dug and planted, planted and dug. We had a wonderful wrought iron half fence in the front but only spotty grass because of big oak trees. I created large winding beds along the fences, of azaleas, hostas, thousands of irises and perennials. The bed between us and the school was 150′ long and 15′ wide in spots. I planted azaleas but it would take a while for them to grow. I went and bought 6 flats of impatiens, which barely made a dent. I bought more, and more, and eventually, about 90 flats of impatiens to fill that spot. The kids at school were let out to wait for their parents in front of the auditorium, which is about 100’ from where I was planting. Curious, they would come up to the wrought iron fence to talk to me. Sometimes, they even helped me plant. One kid made diagonal rows, by color and shade. I could see the pattern he was creating. “Great job!”, I said, as I went on and on lauding the artistry of what he was doing. That kid was Anthony.
Throughout the spring, the kids would find injured animals on the playground and rush to tell their teachers. The kids insisted they be able to bring the injured squirrel or bird to me, because I could somehow, heal the animal, and the animal would then live in “our sanctuary”. It became a “thing” and the teachers allowed them to come, still in eyeshot of the children, to our back door. I would reward them with chocolate chip cookies and all was well. Often, I found 8-10 kids would deliver one wounded bird…. for the cookies.
One morning, a young boy appeared in my kitchen and was desperate for help with a blue jay. The bird had an injured wing. He introduced himself as Anthony and shook my hand like he was 40yrs old. I recognized him, vaguely. He informed me he would be back, after school, to pick up the bird, so HE could nurse the bird back to health. No cookies, no hugs, like the other children. He was very matter-of-fact. Suddenly, my reputation was on the line. What to do? About an hour later, my husband walked through the back door and said, “What the hell are you doing?” I had a clump of mud on the kitchen counter and was digging for worms. I had an eyedropper out, trying to feed it water. I was trying to keep that baby bird alive until 3:00pm. My husband thought I was out of my mind, but killing my reputation of “woodland princess” would be worse than telling the kids Santa didn’t exist.
After school, Anthony picked up his bird and thanked me politely. In a flash, he was gone.
Anthony, was always the last to be picked up and I started to pay attention to him. His family was poor, by his dress, and his haircut was homemade, but I liked him. He waited, dutifully, until after 5:00pm for his mother. Over a few weeks, Anthony and I became friends. He would bring me pretty rocks and help me do all kinds of things. We talked about what he learned that day and I often had an extra sandwich or leftover spaghetti for him. The kid was starving, but he was a growing boy. I tried to befriend his mother. She acknowledged me, always from the car, but wasn’t interested. Anthony seemed embarrassed by his mother but told me all about his dad, who had a pet alligator….., which he wrestled. “Hmmmm”, I thought.
One day, I wasn’t outside, but the front door was open with work crews moving in and out. Anthony appeared in the house and tapped me on the shoulder as if we had an appointed schedule. I was removing the old wool carpeting from the big staircase, which had been nailed to the stairs. I was struggling and Anthony offered to help. There were 19-25 nails in each stair and there were 31 stairs. I only know that because Anthony told me. Anthony removed every single nail, and had the nails lined up, by stair. Anthony provided me with a total and an average nail count, per stair, separating out the overage for two landings. 732 nails.
I took a few steps back and took a long look at Anthony. The realization hit me like a flood. Any adult who went through the avalanche of IQ testing during the 60’s and 70’s can spot a kid with similar attributes. Yeah, I was one of those kids. I started asking Anthony questions geared to test his IQ and spatial reactions. Normal kids don’t count, sort, or average a number of nails. Normal boys don’t design landscaping with the ability to imagine what it will look like, filled in. I recalled he was the one who did the flowers in a pattern, diagonal and by shade. Anthony’s brilliance was right under my nose. I tried to speak to his mother about him but she was skittish. Within a few days, school ended and Anthony was gone. Our garden bloomed and Anthony’s design was so spectacular, strangers stopped to photograph their children in front of my flowers.
Summer drummed along and we finished the renovation by September. Immediately, the school became one of our best customers. People were flown in for programs on how to teach teachers how to teach better, and the programs were held, conveniently, at our house. We held elaborate dinners for the school admin staff when professionals came in from out of town and I became friendly with the school admin. The #2 and #3 execs became good girlfriends and used to help me cater other parties. Yes, some of the teachers ribbed me about being the woodland princess and we all laughed. I had forgotten about Anthony and had not seen him all school year by the time the first frost killed his impatiens.
When Thanksgiving rolled around, we were doing trial runs on our turkeys. The #2 and #3 were in my kitchen and we were doing ‘girl talk’, when the conversation turned to a problem child at school. They were trying to decide what to do with him. He had been suspended several times. He had been to ISS repeatedly, and they were considering expelling the child, which was almost never done. His prognosis was HYPER ADHD and he would NOT sit still in class, always a problem for every teacher he had. I was working away and not paying much attention to their conversation (school stuff – none of my business).
They were talking about the boy’s family and how uncivilized/poor/redneck/slovenly the family was and one of them mentioned they even had wild animals as pets. The women in the room had their noses in the air as if they could smell the “stench of lower class” and wanted NOTHING to do with this kid. They were all nodding in agreement when one suggested a call to DHS to remove the child from his home because they heard a rumor the father had an alligator and was teaching the boy to wrestle the alligator.
An alligator? I stopped and spun around from the kitchen sink. My eyes were wide. “Are you talking about Anthony?”, I was almost screaming. “Well, yes, but we don’t confirm names.”, they were squirmy when realized they had revealed something they probably should not have said. I was undone. I went on a diatribe about Anthony and how spectacular he was. I was emphatic, championing my little friend. I was dogmatic, “There was no way in hell Anthony was a behavior problem.” and “there’s no way in hell a kid with ADHD can take out 732 nails in one sitting”. I challenged their prognosis, openly. I demanded to see Anthony… which they could not legally do. I even offered to take Anthony, which they could not legally do. I was furious, irate, beside myself, and my red hair was on fire. I talked to my husband about it that night.
Calming down, the next day I called #2 girlfriend and asked for Anthony to have his IQ tested. She reminded me, sternly, that anything said in my kitchen should NEVER be the subject of public knowledge, however, she and #3 had already agreed to talk to the parents about the boy. I was happy about it and drove around the school to see Anthony one afternoon. He told me he was in a lot of trouble at school. He shuffled his feet. He was half the kid he was the prior spring. It made my heart cry but he hugged me when I left – something he had never done before.
Anthony’s parents came in for the meeting, but could not do the IQ testing mid-year. It was expensive and they didn’t see the need. “What do you mean?”, I howled at my girlfriends. They explained that kids are evaluated in 1st, 4th, 6th grades, paid for by the district at a cost of about $250/kid for gifted programs. Only those who are suggested by teachers get ‘evaluated’ because of the overall cost. Obviously, Anthony was not suggested previously. To do an off year test would be in excess of $1375, and the simple fact was, his parents could not afford it. I was heartbroken.
In the meantime, another teacher professional, with a card deck full of PhD’s, came to visit me to consult for the school district. She had visited several times over a few months and we became very friendly. It was close to my birthday and HER birthday. She was talking about what she wanted for her birthday – to extend her mother’s silverplate pattern to get to 12 place settings. She described the set and on a hunch, I went to my toolbox and found a set of 6. I bought them in a garage sale for less than $20, handed them to her and said, “Happy Birthday = problem solved”. She asked me what I wanted for my birthday and I mentioned Anthony and the problems we were having. She knew about my objections already but she narrowed her eyes and told me she could test the child and she would be happy to do it for free. It was like God sitting on my shoulder.
I found Anthony that afternoon, and she tested him in our dining room, before his mother arrived to pick him up from school. What I did was probably illegal. What the PhD lady did was probably illegal as well. Yet, when the result came in, Anthony had a 168 IQ. No turning back now. I went to see the Superintendent and told him what we did. He understood. He also returned the check for $1375. Without telling me, my burly husband had spoken to the Superintendent and financed the bill. He couldn’t get mad at both of us. It was the 90’s. Today, I probably would have been arrested.
Anthony was placed in the gifted program, where he thrived, along with my step son. He graduated and became a Rhodes Scholar. Along the way, I lost my mystique of being a woodland princess but it didn’t matter one damn bit. The kids were more important. I often wonder what became of Anthony, but I still have his pretty sparkly rock on my desk. I’m looking at it now…. Kind of like that rock, Anthony was a diamond in the rough. He was a good kid who deserved a chance. I can’t plant an impatien in the spring without thinking about him.
Sanctuary.
 
 
 

Flep’s post on President Trump’s Border Wall strategy was outstanding! Thank you, Flep. After reading Flep’s post, I was eating dinner, looking around the world, and I started to make a list of things which have changed since we elected President Trump. “Things” which were big problems for most of my adult life. “Things” I thought would remain problems for my grandchildren. Suddenly, our big problems have evaporated. They’re gone, or they’re almost gone. Big things, like ISIS and the Caliphate, have practically disappeared.
Look around, and take note of what you see. Oh, and pretty please (!), chime in and add to the list in the comment section below!
Think about the great problems of the world or in America, since we were kids. “Things” that dominated headlines. “Things”, about which, our parents complained. All those big problems we’ve faced in our lifetimes….
…..they’re all being fixed.
It’s simply astounding.
*** OPEC, dependence on middle east for oil = Done, overwith. Now, our President threatens them. Do you remember standing in line for gas during the OPEC embargo? I was a teenager. Why did it take so long to resolve the problem of energy independence?
*** Illegal Immigration = Avoided for 35 yrs+, and I swear, President Trump has them cornered and will not let Congress out of the room until they fix it…… or, by God, he will.
*** NAFTA = It cleaned out middle America and cost our country trillions. Wow, we were told those jobs were never coming back. We should, “learn to code”. Yet, we have a President who made a deal for USMCA.
*** China = We could write a book on that one, but President Trump has the big Panda locked in the Lincoln Bedroom, and their economy is on life support. It might be time to make a deal. Can we think of anyone better to work on our behalf than Mnuchin, Wilbur Ross, Lighthizer, Navarro, Kudlow, and President Trump?
*** NATO = How long were we supposed to pay for the defense of Europe? 70 years? About damn time they were called to account. What a bunch of freeloaders! The press says, “President Trump offended our allies”. By asking them to pay their overdue bills? Yeah, I had a friend like that…. once.
*** Iran = Almost all of us remember the 454 days of hostages AND the day they were returned under Reagan. Yet, Iran has been a problem ever since. President Trump doesn’t like the Mullahs of Iran. Have you noticed?
*** Radical wealthy Saudis paying for terror = Wow, didn’t see that being fixed in my lifetime, and yet, here we are. It’s all in the sword dance, folks.
*** Tax reform and repatriation of money overseas = It’s a big deal and needed to be done. First time in a generation.
*** The Communists running around Central and South America = We don’t pay much attention to Cuba, Venezuela, and all the pissant dictators, but President Trump is sweeping out the cobwebs in our backyard. No foothold. We want good neighbors for the USA.
*** The EU = The European socialist unicorn is almost dead. The former eastern bloc countries want nothing to do with Merkel and the UK is running away as well. Has anyone seen Macron lately? Wow, in less than 24 months. What a spectacular turnaround.
*** DPRK = Did you EVER think we would see the 38th parallel restored to normal? South Korea and North Korea has a chance to merge? Maybe? President Trump has made huge strides towards peace.
Japan, Vietnam, The Philippines, Singapore’s 94 yr old President told Chairman Xi to take his 20 billion dollar loan for an airport/infrastructure and “Go to hell”, Taiwan, Egypt, Israel, Jordan, 54 Muslim Nations of the GCC = best buddies and new alliances.
We’ve never seen anything like this before. I’ll say it out loud. We ASSUMED these problems were permanent. Yet, President Trump has shown us, there’s a better way…., there’s a better deal to be had, for America. I can hear President Trump’s voice, whirling in my head, as he spoke to us from the campaign trail. He TOLD US this would happen and sure enough, it’s happening!
Domestically:
*** The Media = Sure, they’ve been a pain in our side for our entire adult lives, but unmasked, as they are now? With their glaring bias? President Trump did it all by himself with a Twitter feed.
*** The Intel Community = After the fiasco of testifying to the House Intel Committee, and a new attempted media narrative of “Trump doesn’t listen to his IC”, President Trump called them all into his office today, for a lecture from Daddy. I found President Trump’s defiance of the media and IC strangely comforting. He’s not the kind of guy who would be taken in, blindly, with a claim of “weapons of mass destruction”.
*** The FED = President Trump kicked the crap out of the Fed before Christmas. He took a lot of grief, but it worked. Fed has been grounded. Yes, the FED was wrong and President Trump was correct, AGAIN. Wall Street should send him a Valentine.
*** Federal Workers = He sent them home for 35 days. That kind of move hasn’t been done since Reagan and the air traffic controllers.
*** The FBI/DOJ = Let’s see how it all plays out, but a whole lotta rats no longer have a job on the inside. Ouch, and they’re losing their security clearances when they leave.
*** ANWR = 40 years of effort, done, delivered.
*** Appropriation of government land = President Trump, under Zincke, was returning it to the people or states. Let’s see what the new Sec does.
*** Deadwood in California forests = Exposed and a new agreement, loose, but in the works. Greeny/hug-a-tree types were exposed. 40yrs of bad policy in California and the Pacific northwest. Remember the Spotted Owl which killed our lumber industry and handed it over to Canada? Well, mills are popping up again in Maine and the northwest. How many jobs and families were ruined in that boondoggle?
*** Manufacturing = Did you know, the Bureau of Labor Statistics projected (Oct 2017) that the USA would lose another million manufacturing jobs from 2016-2026? Well, we lost 19K in 2016, under Obama. We’ve gained 500K under President Trump in 2 years. Total reversal. A generational reversal.
*** Regulations = Cut them. So much easier to do business in the current environment. It’s better now than when I started my company, 24yrs ago.
*** Pricing for Defense Items, Pharmaceuticals, Air Force One, or the Jerusalem Embassy = Did you ever think we would see the President of the USA pick up the phone and call a CEO? To negotiate a price? Amazing.
We love this guy.

Let’s not forget the judiciary turnaround = SCOTUS saved for a generation, the pipelines approved…, the War on Coal = ended, unemployment levels so low that the disabled are at their highest level of employment – ever, and so are felons, who are getting a second chance with the passage of the Crime Legislation Bill.
Yes, Reagan ended the Cold War and led us to economic prosperity by ending Carter’s policies, but other Presidents, in between Reagan and Trump, have dawdled. We hire a chief executive to address the big problems. President Trump has no fear and walks into the fray, whereas others made excuses. President Trump is solving the problems of my lifetime, our lifetimes…., for the benefit of our children. I can’t wait until he addresses education, full force. By the way, healthcare associations, have you priced them, yet? You should.
Glad we hired President Trump! We knew he would be good for America, but the past two years have been truly great. We never expected such spectacular results!
Take a moment. Look around the world or around the corner in your neighborhood.
Smell the sweet roses of success!

Marica said something this morning and I had a mini-epiphany.
Here’s what Marica said about her husband:
“Mr. Marica? He is my favorite Dude!! but he is not even in the least bit interested in what we all talk about! (daughn’s hubby calling in is so stinking cool!) God brought me you guys so I am able to talk and share and joke and discuss stuff that Mr Marica rolls his eyes about…”And then, Marica said, “here’s the funny thing Steve– He is a Builder–Custom Homes- High end- he goes on FACEBOOK and drops Giant truth bombs — (asked me yesterday how to spell Pelosi -lol) then posts shit– and doesn’t respond… But He does NOT talk to me about any of it…”
Obviously, Mr. Marica is paying attention to the world around him. He does not engage often, because he’s busy. He’s building, working, doing the things which normal Americans do. Yet, every now and then, something happens in the public sphere that makes Mr.Marica mad, and he “$hit-posts”, which is a term of endearment for those on the Chans.
My husband does the same thing. Over July 4th weekend, 2017, President Trump retweeted a video, made by a 15yr old, which illustrated the President and a CNN-headed figure, in an obvious cartoon, portraying a WWE brawl, where the President ‘smacked down’ the CNN figure. CNN was furious and sought to out the maker of the video. Remember? My husband thought CNN pundits were whining. He didn’t know how to ‘meme’, so he drew the picture above on a cocktail napkin, took a pic of it, and sent it to me. I thought it was ‘old school memes’ and posted it to the /pol/ twitter feed. The kids LOVED it, “Go dad!” From there, Milo Yiannopoulos picked it up for thousands of shares on his Facebook page. Suddenly, my son and his friends, who are Chan regulars, had to “bow to the great $hit-poster Lord”, my old-guy husband, who rarely says anything controversial. It was hilarious…, a good moment for our little family……., but indicative of something far greater.
Yesterday, an old employee of mine went on a rant, which she posted on Facebook. She’s a small woman, normally timid. Her rant, against NBC over the Covington boys, was eloquent and worthy of a Wall Street Journal Editorial. She was furious. How is she different from Marica’s husband or my husband? She’s not. She was fed up and had the courage to speak up. Well done.
Here’s the mini-epiphany part: We’re thinking of social interaction in the way our moms taught us. Here’s the Mom/Dad rule: Grow up, learn your chosen profession, become a responsible adult, marry, have kids, pay your bills on time, and become benevolent to those in your community. Dems seek to blow up our social construct to obtain control….. and all they have to do is be a little bit rude. We resist being outwardly rude and vocal  because it goes against our instincts. Our mothers would frown, disapprovingly, because those who were rude would be shamed by the majority. Rudeness, however, is no longer frowned upon. Look at Hollywood. Those who are rude to our President and his supporters …….. are rewarded. Wake up!
Meanwhile, the Dems are stealing our lunch money, and our children’s future, because we’re too damn nice and avoid confrontation.
We’re polite when the Dems are rude and abrasive. We look to facts and figures and overarching policy, when the Dems argue on emotion and guilt. We seek peace and a gentile nature because we think it’s admirable. Think of Mr. Rogers and his cardigan sweater. Yet, Dems push people into a rage based on resentment of the successful, greed, envy, sloth = MOAR FREE STUFF. The Dems war on Repubs/conservatives is not a real war, it’s a culture war to change our system of leadership. It’s not World War III. It’s a War of Words – for control of the world. No one is mortally wounded and they get all of our money.
Again, it’s a WAR OF WORDS. The Dems will shut down a government to argue the semantics of whether it’s a Wall/Fence/Barrier/Concrete or Steel = Word War. Think of the times the media tried to claim our President is lying because of a subjective argument over semantics, when we know exactly what he means = Word War. Recall the the media meltdown because Candidate Trump claimed ‘thousands’ of Muslims were dancing on rooftops, when it was only ‘hundreds’? The media focused on the number rather than the outrageous betrayal of anyone celebrating the horror of 9/11, which was the real problem. Yes, Numbers War = Word War. Change the focus = more propaganda.
The Dems would never engage in a real war. Face the facts, when real bullets fly, it’s usually conservatives who serve in the military and police forces. Can you really imagine social justice ‘warriors’ in a real war? These are not men and women with honor. Dems prefer to send a majority of Republican sons to fight wars. Man buns with helmets? A participation trophy for wearing a uniform? Dems often lie about their service record for stolen valor. Yet, they suffer no shame nor dishonor. Look at Senator Blumenthal or the media’s new Native American who was ‘surrounded and attacked’ by high school boys wearing red hats.
Look how the Dems use words to label themselves and enemies. They are Social Justice ‘WARRIORS’ but not physically strong. The Women “March”, but they wear pink hats and silly outfits. They seek to label our President as “rude and brash, offensive, a bully, orange man bad”, when in fact, their entire goal is the Word War, and to be offensive. It’s classic projection propaganda. It’s working. How many ‘conservative’ pundits preface their praise of the President by saying, “Well, of course, I wish he would stop tweeting…., but his policies are terrific”. EVERY time we hear the ‘discount’ of praise, it means the propaganda of the left has won a small battle in the Word War. They smile, knowing they won, while we seek to focus on facts, numbers, and policy, but no one else is listening.
Is time for all of us to unmask ourselves and engage in the Word War? Are we facing “America’s Cold Civil War”, as written by Charles R Keslar? Keslar’s theory is differing political parties always agreed on our Constitution and economic system, we merely altered the party in charge. This time, it’s different. This time, the opposition is arguing for a Socialist system and a complete change in our governance. Make no mistake, the Word War is as much a danger to our freedom as the Kaiser or Hitler ever were.
Why are the words so important and such a great weapon to change public perception? Again, remember mom, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” Maybe words do hurt. Does it hurt to be called a racist or a Nazi? OR, does it hurt more to be silenced? Suddenly, our responses on social media change completely.
“Racist” – is no longer a valid insult because the term has been used with such impunity, the misuse of the word has become offensive to those who actually suffered under legitimate racism. Yeah, the left has appropriated ACTUAL racism. Go figure.
“Hitler/Nazi” – no longer valid, because if the right were actual Nazis, the right would be wearing masks, breaking windows, burning cars. The left would be silenced into submission and the President would get better press.
Sexist/Mysogonist/MeToo – Doesn’t work because some women will continue to compromise their ethics for a promotion, access to power, more money, fame, which is their choice. Yet, these women don’t use their cause to defend actual victims of domestic abuse, whether they be men or women.
We’re engaged in a Word War. We ALL know the Left would lose a real war. The gig is up. Insults are meaningless. Hyper-emotional opinion means nothing. The age of leftist insults, as part of a conversation, has ended. If a Republican says, “I propose XYZ policy and here is why….” but the Dem says, “You’re an A$$hole, I resist!” The Dem no longer has anything to contribute.
Our President is engaged. He’s definitely NOT politically correct. He pushes back, hard. Why aren’t we following his lead? This is not a call to arms, which the Dems would lose. It’s a siren call to the Word War.
No, we’re not black-mask-wearing-bike-lock-swinging-anarchists. We didn’t go out of our way to offend people because IT IS RUDE. Clearly, it’s become more of a hazard to allow the rudeness to stand and NOT be countered. In our old social construct, the rudeness was shamed and condemned, but that doesn’t happen anymore. We need to adjust. We’re civilized, and with a nod to our dearest darling, Wolfie, ……we weren’t raised by wolves – yet we need to learn to fight, intelligently, and circle our prey, like a pack of wolves who work together.
The great misperception is that we don’t know how to fight, or that we’re not willing to get into the proverbial gutter and sling mud. The left thinks we’re not willing to play dirty, when it comes to politics. Are they kidding? Many of us have seen what real war looks like. MANY of us came from communist/socialist regimes, and we know a Word War is child’s play compared to dead and wounded. We merely need to shift tactics, but we do understand…
…. this is a WAR.

It seems reprehensible to most Americans that we would question or fear our own FBI and DOJ. It’s a new idea to us and the world seems upside down. Yet, with the politicization of our justice system, Americans clearly see the duplicity and double standard. Now, we’re apprehensive to help, offer information or assistance, which harms the country and may allow criminals to evade justice. The following is a sad story of the murder of a young woman in our town. Yet, the story is an example of how the public, local police, the FBI, and the justice system worked perfectly together…….., like it should be in America. May God bless the men and women of the FBI.
It was bitter cold in January, 1996, right after winter break. Travelers had all returned to town from the Christmas holidays and the kids were refreshed and back in school. We’re a sleepy southern town where not much happens. We hadn’t had a murder in 30+ years, since two sisters learned they were dating the same guy and the guy was found, face down in a ditch, missing his manhood.
Ashley was 17 years old, an honor student, a senior at the high school next door to my home, and on the Homecoming Court. Her mom, a single mom, worked for the company my FIL brought to town in the 70’s, and our B&B’s biggest client. Ashley had car trouble on the way to school and knocked on a door for help or to make a call. The resident was on their way to work and didn’t have time to help. That was at 7:37am. Within 20 minutes, Ashley was gone. When Ashley missed homeroom, her teacher was concerned. Ashley was never late. Within 30 minutes, her car had been found by local police and they called the school and then, her mother. It’s the phone call every mother fears. Word spread throughout our little town like wildfire. Where was Ashley?
Our B&B is next door to the high school. Many of my staff are high-schoolers. All day long, local police questioned kids at the school to learn of any detail. When the kids left school to work for me, we were in the midst of taking down Christmas decorations. Ashley was all they talked about and they were scared. They all knew her.
That evening after work, an exec of the company and a girlfriend came to my home to talk about the missing girl. My girlfriend was desperate. She was also a liberal feminist, from Connecticut, a volunteer firefighter, and convinced our small town police department would flub the investigation. She wanted to organize search teams and was headed to talk to Chief of Police to “demand action”.
The police station is a block from my home and I can see it from my front porch. I knew everyone who worked there. I intervened and said, “Maybe I should go with you.”. I feared my girlfriend’s perceived arrogance would cause her to not be heard. If the situation was as dire as we feared, we would need everyone working together to find the missing girl. I made my girlfriend PROMISE not to speak in the meeting. We met with the Chief and told him “Whatever you need, shirt from my back, rally the town to help, whatever it is……, we will deliver it.” I hugged him hard and we left.
Over the next day, 16 FBI agents showed up in our little town to investigate. New phone lines were brought in and the ‘organization’ set up. For the townspeople, reality set in and it was a cold chill down our collective spine. People were terrified. As we are next door to the school, I received dozens of phone calls from moms, to ask if it was okay if their child came to my house (safe) instead of waiting in front of the school until someone picked them up. Fine with me. The kids were scared. No one walked separately. Rumors were rampant. Tips and alleged sightings were rampant.
Oddly, as we were all frozen in fear, the cold snap broke and the weather was spectacular, clear, and about 72 degrees, in January. I went to the garden center to buy pansies on sale and was planting in the front yard when the Police Chief pulled into my driveway. The pain in his face was so severe it caused my own eyes to sting with tears…. just like they are right now. I’ll never forget that moment. He looked like hell.
The Chief leaned on the hood of the car to support his weight and said, “Remember when you said if I needed anything you were willing to help?” I moved towards him to slide my arm around him and comfort him. “Anything,”, I said, “just tell me.”. He asked me to make dinner for the FBI and crew at the police station. They had been eating doughnuts and Taco Bell for a couple of days and it was getting old. He thought a nice meal would help their spirits. “Piece of cake”, I said and hugged him, “I’m right here, we’re going to find her.” He turned into me and started to cry. Takes a lot to make a man like him cry and he was way past his limit. I understood. We were in for a long haul….
Dinner for 25 is no big deal for us but I needed a little bit of help. We settled on Italian. Everyone loves Italian and I had 30lbs of scratch marinara in the freezer. Chicken Parm, sausage/4cheese stuffed manicotti, a big salad, and garlic bread. I call my Mother-in-Law to make her famous coconut cake and she whizzed into action. Real plates, cups, good silverware, home brewed iced-tea and good coffee. We were ready and delivered at 6:00pm. We almost burst through the doors of the war room when the Mayor (who was in my wedding) stopped us and pulled me aside. He would only allow me in and swore me to secrecy. No rumors, no speculation, nothing that could harm the investigation. Message received. I set up the food and left. But then came the hard part.
About 8:00pm, I went back, alone, to retrieve dishes. The agents all hugged me and they were grateful. Spirits lifted. Good job. “We’ll sleep well tonight”, they said. Heaven knows they needed a good night’s sleep. As I gathered dishes and napkins, the realization hit me, what were they going to do for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the next day, and the next? They were sleeping in the fire station on cots. I looked around at the men in the room. They were all middle-aged and they all had kids, wives, and were away from their homes as well. I spoke up and asked what the arrangements were for tomorrow. They pointed to one guy, who was placed in charge of food orders to keep the team running. I frowned/snarled in disapproval, “You mean a highly trained FBI officer is taking lunch orders? That’s an unacceptable use of manpower. I will do this for you.”,…..could have heard a pin drop. It was like mom had issued an order and they were all 8yrs old again. “Yes mam”, they said, “You sure?”. I gave them that knowing look like wives give husbands across a crowded room, “We can do this, you go and find Ashley”, I left and informed the Mayor I would be back in the morning. I wasn’t seeking permission, I had already decided.
Within days, the tension in town was unbearable. I reoriented our kitchens and was working on FBI food with my staff when I got a call from the local plant manager, where the mom was employed. My girlfriend was advocating for action by the local plant, the VP of Human Resources was convinced Ashley ran off with a boyfriend, and the plant manager was seeking advice. He knew I was helping with FBI food and we were long term friends. I arranged for the FBI team leader to meet the Plant Manager and went along for introductions. That was a wild meeting.
At first, the FBI wanted everyone to stay out of the fray, which is understandable. Advice was not well-received by the plant manager. VP of HR agreed and loudly disparaged Ashley and her mother, which did not go over well. I despised the guy, his contempt hung in the room like the odor of a dead fish. The company was a printing company and a major division of a large conglomerate. “We could print missing posters.”, said my girlfriend, the rabid feminist (Ashley’s mother was now living with her as she could not go home any longer). The FBI agent agreed it would help. They needed info.
I looked at the plant manager and told him to stop their presses (which is nothing short of a nuclear meltdown at a printing factory – it costs $6K/hr to stop them), and give the speech of his lifetime – to every shift. We’re stopping the presses to help find one of OUR daughters who is missing. Color the posters which is more expensive but better to identify her. Laminate the posters because they fade in rain. Organize teams to spread the posters as far as 50 miles. Call the corp office and authorize a $100K reward for info. I was starting to roll when the HR Director snapped at me for wasting time. I countered and said the plant workers often entertain a union for hourly employees, and THIS instance would be a perfect opportunity for management to illustrate they gave a damn about employees. This beautiful young woman was one of our own and WE WILL find her. I won. Idea sold. Plant manager gave the speech of his life, CORP CEO was there by second shift, and the FBI/Mayor/local ministers/and lil ole me were there standing next to him. We stopped the presses. I’ve never seen such an outpouring of community spirit. They wanted to help.
By day 4-5, I was exiting the fire station doing my FBI lunch run and noticed all 3 local stations had news trucks set up with satellite feeds. They were yelling at me for information and teasing me that they were hungry too. I had a little bit of pasta salad left over and couldn’t resist. I swung the mini-van over to the news crews and they stuffed their hands into my bowl and ate with their fingers. Of course, I gave them no info. When I went back for dinner, one of the agents questioned me about it, wanting to make sure I gave them no info. I laughed. The agent in charge suggested an interview with the mother might be a good idea and they wanted to use my house to stage it. They thought the mom would be more comfortable there. I said, “okay”. The agents had become familiar with our house and sometimes would drop off their dishes instead of me going to get them.
The interview was set for the next afternoon and I had a dozen or so media guys/ cameramen in the living room. I made them take off their shoes. They were getting set up and waiting. My burly husband was out of town so I called the brother of the Mayor to come over…, in case the media got out of hand. The mother was terrified to speak. One agent was there but I wasn’t convinced he could do anything with the media. The media asked me why we were waiting and I explained we were waiting on “Big David”, that my husband wasn’t in town, and “Big David” would deal them if they got out of hand. One ABC anchor laughed out loud and said, “Is he going to break our camera if we do something wrong?” I nodded, “Probably the least he would do….”. “You’re kidding me, right?”, he said. “Nope”, I responded. I made the media lunch to make them feel better but we had established control over the situation. We talked while we waited. We have an enormous oak staircase in the house and I had it swathed in 150yards of bridal satin for a wedding we did over New Year’s. I was leaving the staircase decorated for a bridal show we were doing. The ABC guy mentioned, “Hey when is the bridal show, we’ll come down and film it for you.” I scowled and said, “Yeah, right. You and your big network and me and my dinky bridal show.” I brushed him off. At the last minute, Ashley’s mom bowed out of the interview. The media left but they had lunch so they were okay.
After a week, feeding the FBI was getting a little expensive. I had nosy people calling me for info all the time and of course, I was sworn to secrecy. Their intentions were pure, they just wanted to help. Finally, I came up with an idea. We published a menu of what we were going to feed the FBI agents breakfast, lunch, dinner, for the next several days. I asked for help and faxed the list to all the banks, every company and church in town. If there’s one thing southern women understand, it’s food. Pretty soon, someone knocked on the back door with a quart of mayo, another with a ham, another with a casserole of redbeans and rice, a meat tray, 10lbs of cheese, salads and homemade dressings, chickens, BBQ, cakes, and cookies by the dozens. They were the best fed FBI agents in all the land but still no word of Ashley.
Day 16, that afternoon, the Governor was bringing in the state Department of Transportation for extra help. I was trying to figure out how to do lunch for 60 extra, when the call came. One agent stayed but the rest left. Kids were playing in an abandoned shack and found a piece of Ashley’s jewelry. They found her battered body under the floorboards, about 35 miles from home. She was naked and had been defiled.
A local DA tried the case. The criminal was a repeat offender, let out of prison early, in a neighboring state. I knew the DA when she was in law school living off food stamps to try to finish. She obtained the death penalty. She became a Federal District Judge and now, she is a State Supreme Court Judge. Throughout the trial, the offender had to wear bulletproof vests because so many people in our community wanted him dead.
About a week after the case was over, my doorbell rang. I opened the door to find 5 FBI agents standing on my front porch, all masculine men, wearing guns, and the lead agent had the prettiest little box in his hand, all wrapped in white paper, with a beautiful pink bow. I invited them in and they showered me with FBI hats, and jackets, and a “card from the boss”. They told me if my cat got stuck in a tree, just call, and they would be there to get it down. I opened my gift. Inside was a letter from the wife of one of the agents. She thanked me for looking out for her husband while he was away from their home. On and off throughout the investigation, the agents would come to our B&B to rest, relax, and clear their heads in the quiet. My gift was an antique pressed glass sugar and creamer for my dining table, where it remains today.
Ashley is gone. Her mother will never be the same and Ashley was her only child. Our system, however, worked. Everyone worked to find that sweet girl and bring her poor mangled body home. The justice system worked. The town helped. We believe and trust our FBI and wow, I can’t tell you how much we love our local police. Even the media was kind. The ABC reporter, Rob Harleston, was a model for my bridal show, two months later and did a fantastic spread on our little B&B. He kept his word. He was promoted to CNN, and moved to Atlanta. Later, he took a job with C-Span and I still see him from time to time. The Mayor and the local paper showed up at my house to give me a letter of thanks, a citation and put my picture in the paper. I refused. No pictures and no press. Kindness is expected in a small town and nothing out of the ordinary.
We need an America where we work together once more, where we love our police, FBI, and justice department, and where we care about each other. They’re all our daughters and sons and I wish they could all be safe. Every murder is local and affects the community. Our police and FBI need our help to solve the crimes. I wish, today, that if a person went missing, every member of the community would turn out to help, with pure intentions and disregard for politics. I wish I trusted the media to jump into action and help, not disregard the pain of a family, or not report the crime, if the perpetrator was found to be an illegal alien or the member of a certain ‘perceived as protected’ minority. Why does color or tribe matter when people are in danger or dead? I wish it was that simple. These are our children. These are our communities and we must act with common interest to protect our own.
I wish I didn’t have to wish…..

Proposal for Completion of Canal from California to Texas
To Contain Multiple Benefits in the Areas of:
Security for the Southern Border beyond weak existing fencing
Creation of 280,000 square miles of arable, drought-proof land, an area 6,627 x’s the size of the Simi Valley
The Creation of Trillions in Wealth
The Reduction of Transportation Costs
A Revolution in the Technology of Desalination
Common Sense Environmental Protections
Basic Engineering Overview and Sources
Historical Methods of Financing and Time Required
Political Obstacles and Possible Friends

Background:

The proposal has been sent, in rough form, to my Senator, Roger Wicker (R-MS), and by certified mail to Donald J. Trump in July of 2015, but we do not know if the proposal reached these decision makers. The idea was born from my children over Thanksgiving holidays, 2014. We have worked for years to overcome possible objections, provide additional research, and we encourage input from all concerned. We originally thought the idea was crazy, but the more we research, the more attractive the idea becomes.
We’ve found, within every 24-hour news cycle, completion of this project would eradicate many of our country’s problems. The ramifications are enormous. Please have access to a map of the southwestern USA for reference.

The Proposal:

To resolve our southern border issue in a beneficial way, we propose the building of a canal from California to Texas, slightly north of the legal border, to travel in a straight line.
Think Panama Canal x 40.
The canal would travel north of the Mexico/USA border and north of the major cities like San Diego, Yuma, Nogales, El Paso, to minimize disruption and lessen acquisition costs, and travel in straight lines, rather than following the curvature of rivers or arbitrary state lines.
The canal we propose is not merely a boon for shipping and commerce or only to provide security on our southern border. Along the way, we need places for ships to turn around for repair in case of a breakdown. This necessity creates wide bays or inlets of salt water. At these points, every 10-20 miles or so, we propose enormous salt water conversion facilities, accompanying fresh water reservoirs (similar to Sardis and Enid lakes), and accompanying fresh water canals which can extend as much as 100+ miles to the north and south. It is a modern version of the Nile River Valley.
Instead of a pure expense for a canal and as a supplement to border fencing, we found a way for the project to make the USA wealthy again.
We create an area, similar to the fertile California, Simi Valley x 6,627 in available square miles.
Arable land, which is drought-proof, can be used for farmland, residential or commercial development.
The canal would be built instead of, or within 10-100 miles of, a southern border wall/fence, providing additional security to the USA.
Beginning between San Diego and LA, using a beach-head of Camp Pendleton, a wide canal would be dug for shipping with locks, all the way to south of Odessa, TX, conveniently located close to the new Wolfcamp oil and natural gas discovery. At that point, the canal could splinter into two lanes, one to Padre island area and one to split Austin/San Antonio to the Gulf, maybe with the goal of networking refineries in Houston.

What makes a canal appealing and salable for both political parties, plus all Americans, and even the Mexican people? Let’s list the benefits by subtopics.

Security:  

~~ A canal of this size is impossible to dig underneath and any tunnel attempted would collapse under water pressure.
~~ Changing of locks to raise and lower ships and swift water flow eliminates individuals attempting to swim across.
~~ Forevermore, our southern border becomes more cost efficient and less hazardous to control at our man made choke points. We also create the ability for deployment of ne technologies in surveillance and facial recognition for our intel agencies.
~~ Shipping routes for the Mexican drug cartels are severely disrupted, saving lives in Mexico and the USA.
~~ The beach-head of Camp Pendleton, CA is coincidental but perfectly located for any threats of terrorism. Additional bases could be built at the Texas entrances to the canal.
~~ Along the length of the canal, we see many USA military bases already located close to the canal to protect this valuable shipping lane.
~~ Our resource, fresh water, could be shared with Mexico, but we will leave the negotiation to the Trump Administration.

Creation of arable land for farms, residential, and commercial development:

~~If our canal is 1400 miles long, running straight instead of following the curvature of a river, and fresh water tentacles stretch 100 miles to the north and south, we create a breadbasket of 280,000 square miles of drought-proof farmland. The state of Texas equals 268,597 square miles. We concede a specific “tentacle” may not stretch 100 miles but we submit, we have the capability.
~~If the Simi Valley is responsible for half the nation’s fruits and vegetables and only comprises 42.25 square miles (according to Google), then the canal creates an area 6,627 times larger.
~~No doubt, the canal would alleviate stress for fresh water to the Simi Valley and help win support from the CA voting block.
~~ Our canal creates the possibility for the USA to ease the world’s food supply. Endless studies from the United Nations and Aspen Institute point to drought/lack of food as the cause for unrest in Egypt and Syria, thus, Sec. Kerry and the Obama administration claim “climate change” as the most significant threat to stability in the world. We just solved the problem.
~~Large freshwater lakes located behind the desalination facilities create lakes for leisure and expensive lakefront property, marinas, etc. The suburbs of our canal would increase land value.
~~The residential and commercial economic development potential of the canal region is monumental.

Economic Benefits:

~~ It takes three days by truck or 5 days by rail to ship a lime from California to Boston. Shipping from Texas cuts time, saves fuel, and would deliver a better product. We could even expand exports of crops from California AND the entire canal zone.
~~ We do business in a dozen countries every day and have for over a decade. We are familiar with shipping times and costs. Consider if you will, the USA consumes, over the last decade, more than 25% of the world’s products. Traversing the existing Panama Canal adds 7-15 days of shipping time, plus fuel and crew costs. We lower the cost of distribution into the USA and lower the cost of exporting from the USA.
~~ Add trillions in wealth to the USA and millions of jobs. Additionally, we are creating wealth rather than re-distributing wealth.
~~ Build new modern cities and turn cities like Phoenix, Tuscon, Plano and Odessa into modern day Chicago’s of the 60’s.
~~ Allows for the creation of near perfect, modern facilities to export and refine Texas oil, with pipelines connecting North Dakota and Canada, using the safest and most cost-efficient methods available – pipelines and sea transport.
~~ As a business-owner who relies on imports, dock strikes like the one on the west coast, which cost American business an estimated 40 billion dollars, are inexcusable. Inland ports for embarkation in Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas would alleviate the potential for American dependence on west coast-only ports and “un-clog” southern California.
~~ To ship a container from China to Memphis, TN (the heartland), costs $2800 in sea freight + $1800 for rail from CA to Memphis + $700 truck delivery + $700 in customs, approximately = $6000. If we could ship via sea freight to Odessa, we save approximately $1100 per container. Just think about all the containers shipped to Walmart in AR, every container shipped to St Louis, KA, Chicago, WI, Atlanta.
~~ The creation of localized water boards for earned revenue.
~~ Elimination of greater Los Angeles and San Diego requirements for fresh water. Reducing cost, saving resources for the rest of the state.
~~ Although we do not require Indian lands to build a canal, we would make Indian lands substantially more valuable.
~~ We checked food imports for many third-world countries, which are primarily corn, sugar and powdered milk. We could, as a tool for negotiation or humanitarian aid, use food, with a lower shipping expense. Please note, of the top five imports/exports of every single country in the world,…….. is oil, and shipping oil in a cost effective manner gives the USA an advantage.
~~ We create a very large supply of sea salt at the desalination facilities. Although the Italians funded their empire with salt trade, we don’t think the USA could do so. We did come up with an invention, attached to the back of a cargo ship, which acts like a salt-shaker, to return salt to the sea, but also distribute the salt over trans-oceanic shipments. Returning salt to the sea in a concentrated location would negatively impact marine life. We’ve resolved the problem.
~~ It would create an economic boom to lift America FINALLY out of the perceived Housing/Obama stagnant recession. It’s a turning point.  America is BACK. If coupled with a few select trade sanctions against the Chinese, the boom in American manufacturing would last for decades and firmly set China on their heels.
~~ Creation of hydro-electric power to supply these new booming cities, every time a lock empties water.

Revolution in Various Technologies:

When the USA went to the moon, our indirect tech advances were far greater than Tang instant beverage drink, Velcro, and LED watches. There is no way, in advance, to measure the possibilities which might happen with the perfection of desalination, modernization of locks, hydroelectric power, and new irrigation methods. We do know, that if America leads, we can revolutionize water supply, and commerce, for the rest of the world. The revolution in desalination could be equivalent to the computer age. More details in the engineering section.

Common Sense Environmental Protections:

~~ Currently, if a tanker has an accident and spills oil off of Baja or San Padre, an environmental disaster occurs. The EPA and volunteers are mobilized, often costing billions of dollars in cleanup, fines to the company, and years of expensive litigation. Often, irreparable damage is done to the environment. If a tanker accident occurs within the canal, we can contain the oil spill within the locks, clean it up quickly.
~~ To move a ship from coastal California, through the Panama Canal, to Houston’s port, takes 10-14 days. These ships traverse some of the world’s most pristine marine parks and fishing areas. Our canal cuts the time to 3-5 days, saving fuel and removes many of these commercial ships from shipping lanes.
~~ Israel has the largest reverse osmosis desalination plant in the world and it provided approximately 20% of the country’s water supply in 2013. According to David Talbot of MIT Technology Review, these plants are expected to produce 50% of the country’s supply by 2016. (https://www.technologyreview.com/s/534996/megascale-desalination/ ) Update for January of 2019: Israel’s desalination facilities now supply well over half the countries fresh water needs. There is an abundance of freshwater in Israel. We can create unlimited fresh water for southern California and bring water to the desserts. This eases the stresses on “natural” fresh water supplies of rivers and streams.
~~ Desalination removes salt from sea water and would leave behind a massive amount of salt. A.) This could eliminate the need for underground mining of salt domes and B.) We understand a concentrated return of salt to the sea can harm wildlife. We have invented a “salt-shaker”, placed on the back of a container ship, which would slowly distribute the salt to the sea over trans-oceanic shipments.
~~ Construction of the canal allows for pipelines to be constructed alongside the canal to move oil, natural gas, monorail for people (?), etc., in the safest and most efficient manner.
~~ Yes, of course we have thought about the potential of an endangered species holding up the project. We have painstakingly checked every county the canal might traverse, and in every single instance, each endangered species are also located in another county within CA, AZ, NM, or Texas.
~~Note on EPA: Howard Baker (R-TN) in 1978 formed the “God Committee” when a snail darter threatened the Tellico Dam project in Tennessee. The snail darter has since found in seven other rivers and is now thriving. Sometimes, the EPA designates an endangered species as an excuse to stop a project (political) and sometimes the evaluation is legitimate. The “God Committee” is a group of federal department agency heads who decide whether to proceed with the project or not. Ultimately, the committee sided with the EPA for the snail darter, but Carter, facing midterms in ’78, overruled and approved the project. General consensus is the Dem’s are nothing if not self-interested. Faced with unlimited fresh water supplies for southern CA, additional electric from hydro-power, the ability to contain an oil spill within a lock for quick cleanup, and the biggest public works project in human history, the Dem’s may pave the road for the Republicans instead of providing opposition. It is, nonetheless, a winnable argument.

Engineering:

~~ We have checked land surveys from the Corps of Engineers and elevations rise to a level of approx. 2300 ft. in New Mexico but the Erie Canal/St. Lawrence seaway rises over 560ft and it was built by hand, successfully, almost 200 years ago. The modern St. Lawrence seaway was done in the 1950’s and took 50 years to get the project approved. The ridiculous length of the approval process for St Lawrence can be used as a selling point to make completion more expedient.
~~ The closest thing in the USA to this kind of a project would be the Mississippi Levee System and Boards. Therefore, we ran the concept through several Corps of Engineers, Vicksburg, Mississippi, levee board friends privately. It can be done. Their eyes sparkled with the engineering possibilities. It would be the biggest project in the history of the world and akin to the Roman aqueducts or the Nile River Valley. Perfect for Americans and it puts the Three Gorges Dam/Yangtze River project to shame. One engineer described it as, “Not just the build of my lifetime but the build of my generation”.
~~ Two ships could be within the same lock but heading in different directions. Engineers insist we need 2 lanes, one from east to west and one from west to east so locks can raise lower depending on which way a ship is going – or citing the extra one as a breakdown lane. Turnaround spots must be available every 20 miles, approximately. Bays or inlets for desalination facilities (and behind them, enormous freshwater  reservoirs and fresh water tentacles) or emergency ship repair should be available every 10-15miles, estimated.
~~ Engineers like the plan because basic engineering and architecture can be repeated, over and over again, in 10 or 20 mile segments.
~~ It’s not like building a house, where bathrooms and kitchens are more expensive, garages are cheaper, and finishing costs vary widely. A canal with bays and desalination is more like building the exact same master bedroom, every ten miles, 140 times. The geography and water pressure will change but economies of scale will make the project easier to build and save costs. The repetition also helps in-field engineering and lowers the learning curve.
~~ Water flows downhill. Every lock must be filled with water from the higher lock, in a stair-step fashion. So, the highest lock at the highest elevation, must have an adequate supply of water at all times. The Panama Canal uses a natural lake to solve this problem and at times has a problem maintaining water level from rainfall. We solved the problem easily and efficiently. Water rises through a series of very large pipes, every 10 miles to a bay/inlet where the desalination facilities are and a ship can turn around. Initially pumped to reach a peak, the water then flows by draft. Anyone who has used a garden hose to siphon gas from a car understands the principle. Then, this becomes a highly efficient way to move massive volumes of water.
~~ We have checked the route from California to Texas. Although we are certain eminent domain would have to be used in some places, the vast majority of the pathway is federally controlled lands and are undesirable and inexpensive.
~~ The pathway of the canal needs to be moved north of major cities for expediency. The beach-head of Camp Pendleton in California is key, removing land acquisition costs of the expensive California coastline.
~~ Engineers believe sections can be started independently of each other and a race for the coasts (like the race for the golden spike in the Transcontinental Railway) would quickly develop. They also believe the canal from Odessa to San Padre could be completed quickly and might serve as a model or motivation for other states.
~~ Because we lived in New Orleans, we know New Orleans is below sea level and relies on a system of pumps for survival. We consulted friends here as well, to estimate the length of fresh water tentacles we could possible irrigate.
~~ Because we have built several small lakes, we are keenly aware of problems with lakes “leaking” because of underground sand, clay, etc. We are, however, very familiar with Carlisle Syntec, which has a factory in town, and who has built a million-gallon reservoir (can be bigger – no limit), in Utah, using their lining materials.
~~ It goes without saying, we expect significant upgrades in rail, interstate, airports, sea-cargo ports, etc. to accompany this project. These developments will happen magically as private money will swarm around this project. Engineers strongly advised a guidance council of sorts so municipalities do not step on each other, to allow the development of a master plan.

Financing and Time Required:

~~ The Erie Canal project, 363 miles long, was originally slow-going but we can learn from history. In fact, 200 years ago, one mule and a team of three men took a year to dig one mile. Then, the USA LEGALLY immigrated 5000 Scotch-Irish workers to dig the canal, which was finished in four years. Ultimately these immigrants settled throughout upstate NY.
~~ The research on the Erie Canal shows the most effective way to finance projects like these are through bond issues. When Sundance, at The Conservative Treehouse, suggested today a proposal to tie repatriation of corporate cash to the purchase of USA infrastructure bonds, which could then be traded in an open market, my brain began churning. As a former partner in a brokerage firm, the idea makes perfect sense.
~~ The faster the project is completed the less it will cost and the less problems we will have. Remember, the original cost of “The Big Dig” in Boston was 2 billion as opposed to finished cost of 12 billion. Availability of funds and an enticement to invest removes the problem of necessary funds and helps ensure completion.
~~ Ultimately, the engineering and architectural firms will provide estimated costs and completion dates. As an owner of a construction company, I know they will all be wrong.

How to Make the Canal a Reality:

~~ Leadership is required.
~~ Political timing is imperative and Trump’s election makes the project conceivable/possible/probable and something that very definitely would Make America Great Again. Yes, we did intend to send the idea to Ms. Clinton if she was elected, as we believed this is a non-partisan issue. We were under no illusion she would do anything.
We defer immediately to President Trump. He’s probably already thought of a dozen more benefits and hiccups we had not foreseen in two years of concentrated effort.
~~ With Republican governors in Texas, Arizona and New Mexico, the process for approval becomes easier. The only hiccup is the very congested coast of CA. The key is Camp Pendleton which gives the canal a “beachhead”. The canal could be completed up until the California coast, where we anticipate objections for some unknown reason…., which would be a good time to turn off their water.
~~ It’s a public works project the Republicans can get behind because of the potential for business expansion. It might be a good bargaining chip with The Chamber of Commerce who is losing on amnesty to Trump. The canal might help to “take the lumps out”, as Trump’s dad would say.
~~ It’s a huge public works project the Dem’s and green activists can get behind because it solves the water problems for the southwest, especially California, and because of potential oil-spill disasters being contained within a lock.
~~ Native Americans benefit and are involved because of proximity to some of their lands. The canal makes them money and brings opportunity for their next generation.
~~ Wall Street would LOVE the idea. At cocktail parties, they might quibble, pretend to know better and offer unsolicited advice (because they always do). Yet, bottom line, they cannot possibly afford to sit on the sidelines of this deal.
~~ Throughout the process, we create and perfect salt water conversion, borrowing technology from Israel and others. Our altruistic cause would benefit the rest of the world and make progressive billionaires “dreamy” with praise.
~~ The canal is an ideal government steered project which Conservatives and even staunch libertarians can get behind. For Trump supporters, again, America leads. We love Trump and trust his judgement.
~~ We do note one issue. Because the canal will pass north of major cities like El Paso and others, the canal would create an area above our actual border (wall/fence) but below the canal. This could be some kind of enterprise zone or special immigrant status zone, before approaching chokepoints at the canal where security and legal immigration can more easily be checked. We defer to the administration for leadership and legality here.

Summary:

It’s American leadership. It’s proactive.  Salt water conversion has been tried and tested in small projects throughout California for years. This problem needs a NASA-like solution, “We’re going to the moon by the end of the decade.
The idea literally comes from the mouths of babes and America’s next generation. Disregard if you choose. We’ve tried to take a problem and create multiple benefits.
We have 1930’s WPA projects to point to for ‘as built’ examples on a smaller scale. Both Democrats and Republicans often speak of infrastructure projects but the trillion dollar stimulus from the Obama Administration was “not so shovel ready”. Instead of sprinkling taxpayer funds into thousands of projects, let’s go with a big idea, to Make America Great Again.
end

When the weathermen warn us of a blizzard to come, the women rush to the grocery store, and dad’s, all over, head outside to clear drains, gutters, and check the roof. Children however, line up their mittens, multiple sets of socks, grease sleds, and dream of the snow to come.
My dad was promoted and took a job in Chicago. We had just settled into the ‘burbs when the Blizzard of ’67 hit. I was only about 5yrs old and The Great Blizzard is one of my first memories.
Historical news reports claim we received 23 inches of snow but the wind blew 50mph, creating 15′ drifts. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1967_Chicago_blizzard
One of those monster drifts landed, as if by God’s hand, PERFECTLY, in front of our garage. I couldn’t believe my luck.
It was AWESOME sight through the eyes of a 3′ tall child.
We lived in a valley, and our house was high in the valley, with a long driveway.
We had a rose trellis on the side of the garage, and we figured out we could climb the rose trellis, pass up our sleds, and sled……. off the roof of the garage, all the way down the driveway.
It was like having my own roller coaster. Because I was the lucky kid who had the garage, God’s snowdrift, and the driveway, all the kids in the neighborhood ended up at our house. What a joyful day it was! Children don’t remember the cold. I do remember my mom made the biggest pot of tomato soup I had ever seen. There must have been 20 kids in the kitchen that day.
Of course, when we speak of snowstorms, husband lived through the Blizzard of ’78.
Husband is an EXPERT on the Blizzard of ’78 (according to him), and he regales me with odd stories of those 3-5 days at various points during our married life. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Northeastern_United_States_blizzard_of_1978
He was a senior in college at The College of The Holy Cross. Husband was Captain of the track team and they had a meet at Madison Square Garden. They knew the snow was coming so the team hurried back to campus, landing at a local pub. The pub was open when the snow started. Yet, by the time they left, there was 3’ of snow on the ground and they had to ‘skitch’ home.
There was no school for 4 days. Governor Dukakis was in his bunker ‘managing’ the crisis in what would be his first failure. Guys from husband’s dorm took a toboggan to a local brewery, loaded up kegs, and sold beer by the glass. Husband claims they made $1000 – net. Cars were abandoned and the boys dug out families homes and stranded motorists. Over 100 people died across New England during the Blizzard. Neighbors helping neighbors was urgent.
Closer to the coastline, in Hull, where we would buy a summer cottage a generation later, the center of the storm hit. Sustained winds hit 86mph and gusts to 111mph. Hull was cut off for 2 weeks. Hull forms a peninsula into Boston Harbor and is positively spectacular in the summertime. Yet, this winter “The Gut” was completely washed through by powerful waves. The hill at the end of what would be our street took the brunt of the storm as homes slid into the sea. My neighbor in Hull was a retired Greek opera singer and she kept a ‘food pantry’ stocked with delights. As she said, “Because you never know when another Blizzard will hit.” Those New Englanders are a staunch lot.
But nothing in our family’s collective history tops the Blizzard of ’42, which hit northern Illinois during wartime. I have a feeling, with the passage of time, our family story grew, just a little bit. According to Illinois historical timeline, the storm was the third worst in Illinois history, dumping 2′ of snow, 20′ drifts, and closing down Chicago. https://www2.illinois.gov/dnrhistoric/Research/Pages/Timeline.aspx
Our family lived about 160miles west, on the banks of the Mississippi River, The Quad Cities of Illinois and Iowa, where it was worse (according to them). Hospitals and restaurants had to be dug out. Supplies were scarce because of the war. Neighbors who never spoke broke bread together to get through the storm.
The kids, however, never change. From 1942, to 1967, to 1978, and beyond, children love the snow. A blizzard presents a unique opportunity in the mind of a child. We can build igloos and pretend we are Eskimos. We can sled further, faster, and fly through the air. AND we can build Titans for snowmen.
Here’s a pic from the Blizzard of 1942.

The woman on the right in my grandmother. The little kid on the left, who built the Titan snowman (with help) is my dad. So, when the snow piles up this weekend, make a pot of tomato soup, drink a beer for some honorable college students, enjoy God’s snowdrifts, and revel at the beauty of it all. It will be gone, far too soon.
 

This is a VERY big deal and an important piece of the geopolitical puzzle.
The more the Trump/Russia saga unfurls, the more we learn about old vendettas among rival intel communities, their agents, political strategists for hire, their clients in various countries, and the relentless lust for the power of payback.
https://www.justice.gov/…/prominent-global-law-firm-agrees-…
Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher, and Flom, LLP, was the law firm hired to advise a private Ukrainian businessman and hired to conduct public relations on behalf of The Ukraine. Paul Manafort brokered the deal. The transaction occurred during 2012 and was most active surrounding the Romney election of 2012 but the investigation by the FBI extended into 2013, although the investigation was dropped…. because Skadden lied to the FBI.
Skadden just agreed to pay a 4.6 million dollar fine (return of all fees received via Manafort, to DOJ) for not registering for FARA as “agent of Putin’s forces working in The Ukraine.”
But – Manafort hired them, so “agent of Putin” is misleading.
The charge against Skadden by DOJ is for working as an agent of The Ukraine government. (Note, not Russia)
<Snip>
“According to the Agreement, in the spring of 2012, Ukraine, Ministry of Justice (MOJ), with the assistance of Paul Manafort, hired Skadden to write a report (Report) on the evidence and procedures used during the 2011 prosecution and trial of former Prime Minister Yulia Tymoshenko and to address various questions regarding its fairness. Skadden also agreed to advise Ukraine in connection with a second, potential future prosecution of Tymoshenko.”
The agreement Skadden entered into, to provide the report, said they would be paid approx. $12,000, yet Skadden understood it would be paid by a private Ukrainian businessman, who was a client of Paul Manafort, via a Cyprus bank account which was controlled by Manafort…., or Rick Gates (according to recall of Gates’ testimony).
In fact, Skadden eventually received $4,657,568.91 for legal work. According to the DOJ, Skadden learned AFTER (allegedly) they were hired, the report they were producing was to be used to influence public opinion, Congress, Obama White House, on issues in the Ukraine. Yet,
Skadden did not register for FARA,
Skadden continued to work on the report,
Skadden contacted journalists without mentioning the source of their fees,
when questioned by the FARA unit at DOJ, a partner at Skadden’s lied and misled the FBI, both in oral questioning and written documents in 2012-2013,
Skadden’s other partners were deemed negligent,
and yes, prior to release of the report, Skadden contacted journalists and urged journalists for positive press (but against the narrative our MSM already established in agreement with intel sources).
Skadden’s senior partner, and the firm, walk away on a BLATANT FARA violation AND lying to the FBI, while Manafort sits in solitary confinement.
Double standard?
Sound familiar?
Does it sound like ‘reports’ or a ‘dossier’ obtained by the FBI under McCabe/Baker and then selectively leaked to the press to influence public opinion?
Or worse, influence the public and smear a particular person?
Or an attempt to influence a Presidential election?
Or a sitting President of the United States of America?
Sounds like a MILD version of what Fusion GPS did with Perkins Coie/DNC/Clinton campaign, with the help of the FBI and DOJ.
Is this kind of smear common?
Do we remember, over Thanksgiving 2018, when a government report on climate change was issued and President Trump responded, “I don’t believe it”, and the media spasmed?
Did you know two of the sources in the report were paid by outside entities and quite radical in their beliefs? Did it bother our government bureaucrats or the public that the sources and their motivations behind the report were not fully disclosed?
Perhaps, when reports are issued, by our government or private law firms, we should look more closely at the sources and who is paying for the sources.
But back to Manafort and the vendettas among spy agencies because it’s much more interesting.
Understand, Manfort consulted for the Regions Party in The Ukraine. He went in to help, then Prime Minister Yanukovych.
Yanukovych ran for President in 2004, polls had him down by double digits, yet he won by three points, which led to charges of voter fraud.
Government ordered a do-over election and Yanukovych called Manafort to help. Between the election and the re-election (November of 2004 – January of 2005), the ORANGE Revolution appeared, with massive protests, orange flags, co-led by Yulia Tymoshenko.
The Orange Revolution was thought (strongly suspected) to have significant help from the American CIA, see here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orange_Revolution
As well as public support and suspected back-door support from John McCain and his allies in government and media.
Let’s not forget the McCain, Rick Davis, Oleg Deripaska connection back to the 2008 election. These boys perfected the plan. https://www.thenation.com/article/mccains-kremlin-ties/
And yes, Rick Davis used to be a partner to ………, Manafort.
See the picture? We have one political party on the western side of the country, allegedly supported (strongly suspected) by American CIA and John McCain cronies versus the other political party, whose campaign manager is Paul Manafort.
Could it be, THIS sets up the motivation for the battle we are seeing NOW and WHY Mueller so fiercely went after Manafort?
The same guys have been fighting the same political/power struggle across the globe for the past 20 years or longer.
Yanukovych lost the re-election of 2004 (actually held in January of 2005) but Manafort stayed to help the party in the elections of 2006.
Regions Party, which was Yanukovych/Manafort won in 2006.
Regions Party was predominant in a section of Eastern Ukraine, Russian speaking – thus characterized by our press/intel community as “Putin-backed-thugs”. The Regions Party may have been backed by Russian oligarchs or it could be characterized as Wall Street versus Main Street in American vernacular. Keep in mind, we are viewing the history through the lens of our MSM which is strongly influenced by our intel community, especially the (alleged) CIA, which allegedly had a stake in the fight, for good or bad.
NOTHING to suggest it was the ‘evil’ Putin, yet.
Manafort knew, however, the polls on the ground during 2006, indicated a large majority of ALL Ukrainians (west and east or left/right) were opposed to joining NATO. So, Yanukovych campaigned on an Anti-NATO stance. It’s disputed whether this was Manafort’s idea or not.
Whoever had the idea, it worked in 2006. Regions Party won.
We also know, Manafort set up shop in Brussels (later on) to appeal to NATO for Ukrainian Membership.
Both sides of the same coin, perhaps. Yet, it appears Yanukovych campaigned on a popularly held stance of most Ukrainians – NO NATO.
Beyond the NATO issue, from NBC: “Manafort recommended “strategy and messaging,” he said, “especially as it related to the campaign and fulfillment of campaign promises.” The party’s political campaigns, said the spokesman, were “built on a foundation of economic recovery and building a relationship with the West that supported and focused on Ukraine being a part of the European Union.”
https://www.nbcnews.com/…/what-did-ex-trump-aide-paul-manaf…
Gee whiz, that doesn’t fit the CIA (alleged)or MSM narrative, does it?
In 2007, Yanukovych ran for Prime Minister again. He was seen in Germany advocating for EU membership but appeared in The Ukraine as opposed to NATO membership.
Weird, eh?
Sound like a politician?
Yanukovych lost in 2007.
Enter Yulia Tymoshenko, female, blond, attractive. Yulia was Prime Minister, briefly in 2005 (because of the Orange Revolution and she was favored by our intel community and McCain – along with the MSM), but re-elected from 2007-2010.
In 2005, Forbes listed her as the 3rd most powerful woman in the world.
As we can see by the timelines, Yanukovych and Yulia keep trading places for leadership of The Ukraine.
Sounds like the Bush and Clinton families.
OR, more like a fight between CIA (alleged)/McCain forces versus Manafort and his political party, The Regions.
It was a pitched political battle.
Keep in mind, Yulia is the one who co-led the Orange Revolution in 2004 which nudged Yanukovych out of power in 2005 and beat Yanukovych in 2007.
Yulia was pro-EU but opposed their customs union (tariff and regulations – gee, there’s a surprise) and wanted The Ukraine to enter NATO.
Here is her Wikipedia page link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yulia_Tymoshenko
In late 2010, she lost the election to …. guess who?
Yanukovych, helped by Manafort.
In 2011, Yulia Tymoshenko was charged and convicted with embezzlement and abuse of power (sounds like Hillary), but the charges were thought to be politically motivated (sounds like the press defending Yulia). Or, was Yanukovych the evil player and was Yulia innocent?
Yanukovych, still helped by Manafort, sought out the help of American law firm Skadden, Arps, Slate, Meagher & Flom LLP, in 2012, to create a report (review the case to give it legitimacy or not) on the charges against Yulia and the possibility of more charges…..
…. which is how Skadden became involved and why Skadden struck a deal, to pay $4,657,568.91 in a penalty, to the DOJ today.
Petro Poroshenko won the election in 2014.
It is interesting to reiterate the Skadden law firm pays a fee and walks away with reputation intact.
Manafort sits in solitary confinement, smeared as a traitor to the country.
Payback is hell.

Today, the Dems and their leaders stood on the Capitol Steps to demonstrate the personal impact of shutting down the government and the pain felt by Federal Employees who have missed a paycheck. Congressmen held up poster sized pics of people that…., well, they looked like me. So, I started thinking about the impact of illegal immigration and how it has affected my family, those around me, the town I love.
It hurts.
While none of us like to see Federal employees used as pawns, it’s time for someone to speak up for Americans, the millions of us who deal with the loopholes in our immigration policies and illegal immigration, day after day, week after week, decade after decade, only to hear another politician promise a solution. Well, we finally do have a politician willing to make a stand, President Trump. Isn’t it odd his desire to fulfill this promise to the people, to resolve our problem of illegal immigration, is met with such……. “resistance”?
Dems are worried about federal employees missing a paycheck.
Well………
Let’s look at how illegal immigration, and loose immigration policies have impacted my life, my family, my community.
Higher Education:
I have a son in college. He’s a senior in Mechanical Engineering.
60%+ of the class is Asian foreign nationals, who surprisingly, cheat on exams, so much so, that professors damn near strip search them before test taking.
You’re worried about missing a paycheck?
K-12 Schools:
My home is in an historic district, lovely neighborhood. I live next door to the school.
School has gone from Level 5 (best) to level 3.
Property taxes, up 528% in 20yrs.
Caught a Somali refugee beating my dog, OVER my fence.
Our town used to be so safe I left the back door open and the keys in the car.
You’re worried about a paycheck?
Churches:
My in-laws started a small Catholic church in our town in ’71. The organ is dedicated to memory of my father-in-law.
Children’s program = 27 illegals + 1 American child.
The illegal families will not contribute to the church, because they don’t have bank accounts………., because they are illegally here.
My church is gone. Although you believe I have no compassion for those less fortunate, because only Dems care about anyone missing a paycheck.
Healthcare:
I’m on the Board for our little hospital. For 20 yrs, we fought to keep it open.
We just closed our emergency room.
I’m a CPA. The cost of illegals is too much to bare.
Our closest emergency room is now 23 minutes away, instead of 4 minutes. Losing an emergency room will hurt all residents of the county, long term, and devalues the property value of every home in town.
Yet, you’re worried about missing a single paycheck?
Commerce/Jobs:
I live in a town w/population of 8K, outside major metro, about 35 minutes away.
In 20 yrs, we lost two major manufacturing facilities.
One employed 1800, which went to Malaysia, another employed 467, went to Mexico. Because of bad trade policies, the people I care about, in the town I love, have missed paychecks for years. You’re worried about a single paycheck but have the gall to call me immoral?
Small Biz:
We did own a prosperous construction company.
We were a bonded company one of only 8 in the state, with a great reputation.
I personally know 150+ American born highly-skilled tradesmen, who are out of work, who consider themselves lucky if their wives have a job. They’ve been replaced by foreign workers, legal and illegal. Proud men, capable and talented men, who built the state. You want my empathy for a single paycheck?
After 4K dead Americans, 60K sexual assaults, 70K dead from drugs, 23% of our prison population, and hundreds of thousands of other crimes, our politicians refuse to protect the American people. Why do we have such incompetent Congressmen?
Yet, Dems complain about Federal employees missing a single paycheck.
Well….., at least they are not complaining from the beach in Puerto Rico.
The President gave Congress 6 months to work on immigration, back in October of 2017. The Republican base was aghast when President Trump offered a compromise of Border Wall/No Visa Lottery/Limit Chain Migration/Extreme Vetting in exchange for 1.8 million DACA adults.
Yet, that was the Schumer Shutdown, which was LAST JANUARY, how quickly the media forgets.
A year later, still, Congress has failed to do their job.
Meanwhile, thousands of illegals, well funded, well organized, are marching to our country with the intention of entering illegally. There’s no respect for our laws. It’s a planned incursion into our country.
Yet, we’re racist.
We’re immoral for wanting protection and a safe country for our children.
We’re foolish, stupid, Nazis.
We’re cruel, harsh, not sympathetic.
At least that’s what our Dem leaders say, from behind their own walls.