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Linda sang her song from day one, that’s the way she is. Linda can whisk tough times away with a slant of her smile that makes the Sun wear shades. Young, strong, beaming, this is how I remember meeting Linda who tantalized my young mind with dancing spirit.

Linda’s path has always been the high road.

I was lucky to see Linda recently(pictured middle)

I was lucky to see Linda recently(pictured middle)

Linda cares for her mom. Aunt Perla May Tarvin will be 100 this March 13th

Linda cares for her mom. Aunt Perla May Tarvin will be 100 this March 13th*

Strong, lean and mean, you get the picture. Holding a certain stature that stretches to the sky, this is how I came to know Linda. Lucky to be out of diapers—if I was—this whizzing top of a cousin first zoomed by. Trust was never an issue, nor place, moment, task or game at hand. Where do cousin’s come from; it all calls for wonder. Linda’s ease of being slipped that question into my childhood dreams.

Every life will own its challenges. Peaks, valley’s, ups, downs and spin-a-rounds, the first person to build a roller coaster was onto something. Still, the carol Linda brings with her contains a floating timbre that underscores any discord. If her life were a musical piece it would play allegretto, accentato, affettoa— light, lively, with emotion and emphasis—but always, throughout, the work would be in harmony.

But why do I tell you? It’s a simple matter, a solid truth, one I have known for so long. Linda’s true affection for my childhood self and everything else about her gave me a confidence that helped grow my spirit. Of course, I had mom, dad, the steady lead of my sister and strong hand of my brother to help me build my path. But, I had cousin, Linda, as well.  And, as dismantling as it must be for a child to not receive the love they deserve from their immediate family, it is equally uplifting to receive that same kind of love from a stranger, an associate, or from a cousin. I know.

Acceptance, hope, cheer and love, these are Linda’s calling cards; the notations of her life.

Sometimes, I hold the ceramic butter dish, a uniquely designed item, or the cut out clay plates I know Linda’s hands made. She did that for years, selling her pottery wares in craft shows and fairs. This was a perfect fit; Linda’s love of people, of creation, for the gift of giving and sharing her four calling cards bloomed everyday. In return, Linda still brings the warmth of her carol to any who listen.

She is a horse person. This means she gives tireless energy to four-footed pals who only speak back when a heart listens. Linda hears with her heart.

I can’t imagine someone as truly nice as my cousin, Linda, and I know her! Fathom that?!?!?

Now, there’s bad news.

“Hospice is here.”

Larry’s message marked the screen. It’s been years of struggle for Linda and Larry; years of prayers, hope. Even so, these have been happy years filled with promise—Larry will tell you.

Still.

Sometime, it seems, I may have to go on without Linda, this, a thought I’ve never embraced. Of course, we don’t know; our future that feels so ever present is truly veiled. But if that day comes, if I ever have to face it, I will never be alone. I’ll carry Linda’s laugh, cheer and all of her calling cards with me as I go. Linda will be in my vision as I look to the sky. The birds will sing, the wind will whistle the trees, but most of all there will be Linda Carol Martin’s song of Life in my head.

Linda’s carol will ring my ears. That tune, she taught my heart so well.

Thank You, Linda Carol.

Franque23

*

Aunt Perla May is the last survivor of her generation of Johnsons.

Aunt Perla May(1st in row) is the last survivor of her generation of Johnsons.

I love my Aunt Perla May and my cousin Linda. Today, this Valentine's day, we heard that each may ass within a week's time-maybe even on the same day.

I love my Aunt Perla May and my cousin Linda Carol. Today, this Valentine’s day, we heard that each may pass within a week’s time-maybe even on the same day. They have been a blessing to so many.

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It’s too late for Trump to shut his barn door mouth…..

Trump paying 25 million to escape(settle) charges on Fraud is not a little or insignificant thing….the BS that Trump’s too busy to fight this charge is a load of crap-you know it, I know it, and all his supporters know it…The entire world knows it. His supporters should care. Just how many times has he paid to escape rape charges? This is disgusting…and having to sleep in the White House is all too much for him to handle? There’s his respect for American history and to his electors! White House be dammed! That’s his motto.* His disdain for the White House quarters speaks to his true lack of interest and commitment to America. Zip, zero, the man couldn’t care less about past Presidents and that he’s about to be one. Come on electorate,…jack these donkeys —Pence is a madman, but he might at least have the dignity to stay in the most hallowed house in our land. It’s the White House for goodness sake! The man and his wife are worse than crazy-they have no empathy, no feeling for this great land and it’s people. None.

Trump is a mad man who’s appointments mirrors his insanity.  My entire life fighting to save our natural resources and  environment are in the balance, in this man’s hands who couldn’t care one iota for the Earth, not to mention people.

Oh, and the great save America money President is gonna cost us  one million dollars per day at Trump Towers to protect his wife while charging us, the tax payers. one and one half million dollars per year for the secret service to rent a floor in the same building?

Trump: Screw and worse you, but in other words that are not so offensive to the middle class you are working over as you laugh through your champagne.

Your wife makes a nice pin-up naked model I suppose,,but she hasn’t got a lick of sense… she’s a numb nut who copied Michelle’s Obama’s speech for her own… how dumb is that? https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/video/2016/jul/19/compare-melania-trumps-speech-with-michelle-obamas-2008-address-video

When will people care that Trump and his wife are phonies? Complete liars, fakes, fools?

You know what? My Republican friends, you have crossed the line of reason every time you say, “Wait and see.” Or, “It might not be so bad.”

Bull dung extremists, KKK, radical right, so-called centralist’s, crusading evangelists and  whack jobs-we don’t have to wait to see what a disaster you have elected as President===this man is a lunatic…and you know It! This election is the most disgusting turn of events I’ve ever seen in America…

Few claimed to have liked hearing Trump say that when it comes to women, “I grab them by the pus?y.” Thing is, without any checks and balances left in the Congress, Trump’s got us by the ‘balls,’ too.

Dump Trump,,,then can Pence. America and the World can only hope.

Franque23

*To be fair, some of this post was written a few weeks ago, and Trump may have since softened on the idea of at least occasionally gracing our White House with his presence. Imagine: an American President who stays in the White House! Since when has that happened?


When I was young, I dreamt I was an Indian. Not once or twice, but often. No one used the term, Native American, not back then, not that I knew. Us white folks simply called the red skinned tent dwelling people, Indians. I held these people in admiration, so swift, one with nature, self sufficient and efficient, they were a people worthy of my fondest thoughts.

Whenever, IF, you see a tree bent like this in the woods it has been formed by Native Americans. They often worked trees to grow is such a fashion as to point int he direction of water, a heard, or home.

Whenever, IF, you see a tree bent like this in the woods it has most likely been formed by Native Americans. They often worked trees to grow in such a fashion as to point in the direction of water, a herd, or home.

I was always a scout. Sleek, sure footed but with the lightest step, I’d climb into a sweet smelling pine to perch high above. There I’d feel the wind with my heart. I’d hear the hawks, the hoot of an owl and squawks of crow.  The blue sky seemed a blanket; the sun laughed.  Leaves rustled while distant hills resembled multi-colored twisted taffy.  The green grasses bent and showed trails of white tailed deer, buffaloes and rabbit runs. The land was clear of danger, resiliently, so peaceful. Scouting was my duty; there were many loved ones back home. Odd, but I never, not ever, saw the end of this dream-I never even climbed down.077-6

This November bulletin board is to reach out to my dreams..

It was only fitting, a magical loop, that brought a pure-blood Cherokee to my side during my college years.  Jana’s father had been a scout in World War II; scrap-metal scars remained on his face. They had horses. At a nearby horse show I stood in a circle that included Jackie Kennedy, all by chance, and that seems a dream now. What doesn’t seem a dream are words Jana spoke one day as we drove back to college after a spring vacation.

“When I was young, ” Jana confided, ” I used to wish I was black, not Indian.”

“Black?” I had to have sounded dumbfounded.

Jana was truly this pretty

This picture of a Native American reminds me that Jana was truly this pretty-and very smart. Still her life had been one of ridicule; I’d no idea.

“Yes. Blacks were much better liked in grade school.” I glanced at Jana- her head was bent down.

Years later, it strikes me that Jana couldn’t even dream of being white as a child-she dare not; that would be too much to even wish.

How different our childhood dreams had been.079-2 another view…

I've and idea! How about we makes maps and globes that represent the true size of all the continents!!! Just call me brilliant and puzzled....

There may be something to this, “Privileged white male” after all?!?!

That she became second in charge of Washington’s Native America bureau under  President Reagan is a credit to her keen efforts, endurance and focus to help her native people. Maybe, this is America at it’s best: if you really try, and never give up, good things can happen.

Thing is, as I heard slanderous words spit this election cycle at people because of their ethnicity it gave me pause, a pain. We were all children once. Children with dreams and hopes-most adults never truly forget those wondrous moments. To have those aspirations sliced apart by loose-lipped fools is more than problematic, it’s wrong on so many levels and in so many ways.

America, we can do so much better. Yes, we can. One day children will not dream of being another color. One day, children’s hearts will soar above the tree tops because of who they are and for what they may become- leaders, inventors, mangers, representative and yes, even President.  People my age, older and younger, we must all remember that dream.

In a way, I’m still a scout in my heart.

 See you later, ...

I’m looking for that dream to come back. Maybe, Trump is right? We do need to make America great again, but not with arrows of division, looks that could kill or with minds full of hate. Not by tearing apart our environment.

It’s time for America to dream and to make those dreams come true. Time will tell.

Now? It’s Native American Month, and Native Americans from many tribes are being pepper sprayed-so much worse- at Standing Rock. Sometimes, the truth seems too much to bear. That’s the bare facts. If only it could stop.

Franque23

2-bent-trees-275x300In many ways- Native Americans are still showing us the way.

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We have such a long way to go.

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Keep the faith –

Franque23


ya know…..The Standing Rock protest is super important…

At Woodstock, my friends and I were young, not yet strapped by so much obligation–we could go there at the drop of a hat to speak our minds, to express ourselves.

The vocals held the message,

The vocals held the message, “Purple Haze, run in my mind..”

we wanted freedom; to make love, not war, and to roll baby roll

we wanted freedom; to make love, not war, and to roll baby roll

Thing is, people who are about my age today are most likely wrapped in bills and a job they can’t afford to skip out on for a few days-a week-and lose.  Or, we’re just too dang old. Plus, we’ve already been cracked over the head, jailed, spit on and frowned upon during the ever-changing 1960’s. Yes, I’d guess my generation’s spirits haven’t changed but it does seem it’s the younger generation’s turn to make a difference, to take one for the team, to band together to right this wrong that is taking place at Standing Rock.

Maybe, the younger generations don’t really know how much effort it took for my generation to turn Nam around and to end that bloody mess. It took plenty.

One day while attending Gettysburg college I joined about eight of my classmates and gathered in two cars to drive to Washington D. C. for what we’d heard was to be a massive protest against the Vietnam war. It was-maybe one hundred thousand gathered to march in D.C. that day. If tear gas, clubs and charging horses is peaceful, then this was a Peaceful demonstration.

Here’s my point: if two sides meet with opposing views and one side is peaceful while the other isn’t, is that a peaceful demonstration? Ask the supporters of Standing rock who are being dragged down, beaten, gassed, arrested and striped searched if this is a ‘peaceful ‘ demonstration.

It takes two to tango; two to talk.

No, the Nam years were battle years both abroad and here at home. Three of the group I went to Washington with didn’t make it back to campus until they’d been released from jail (I think we went to D.C.  on a Saturday and we didn’t see these three again until the following Wednesday-one had been clubbed on the head.)  One college friend had flunked out by Christmas our Freshman year and gone to Vietnam. Three months later, by late Spring, he returned to visit missing a leg. It was horrifying; I spent at least a week smoking my brains out trying to forget John’s fate.

My whole generation fought the Nam war one way or another. We didn’t send Memes. We got in the streets and marched as an unarmed army of what was right and good.

At first, protesters tried flower power.

At first, protesters tried flower power.

It was a peaceful demonstration, so the National Guard of Ohio took a knee and.....

It was a peaceful demonstration, so the National Guard of Ohio took a knee and…..

shot....

shot….

these four dead, randomly killing them and wounding nine others

these four dead, randomly killing them and wounding nine others

All across the nation members of my generation fought and were bloodied , even killed, for what we thought was right.

My generation served our time. And we learned, Love has a down side.

bullets kill...love doesn't.

bullets kill…love doesn’t.

So, I’m wondering…why aren’t the 18 to 21 year old’s going to Standing Rock to stop this pipeline? You have the ability-some of you-like maybe 500 thousand, right? And yet, you aren’t joining our Native American people to fight for your right to live in a clean, healthy environment. Somewhere, somehow, between the protests of the Nam Era and the rattle, smoke, shake, rock-in-roll days of Woodstock my generation’s spirit to join in mass to fight what’s wrong for what is right has gotten lost; the ball got dropped.

Maybe the environmental movement just isn’t fun enough? I don’t know…

new_sliders-11woodstock08a1

In the rub lies the ointment, and in there are the flies. Sometime, somewhere, I feel certain the next generation will have had enough, and chose to fight  in the streets rather than type on a computer as I am. Both are good; both actions can bear results-but getting out in the streets in mass has worked before. It can work again.

 

It’s still not too late to join the protester’s at Standing Rock. In the end, Life becomes a memory. You’ll want to know you did what’s right. Good luck.

Here’s a Drone video and update on Standing rock https://vimeo.com/189876726

Franque23

Here’s the dirt on the proposed pipeline and how and why it was redirected….581a0640150000b9005313f6.png


(Click the pic for a larger view)

That’s today-clear, blue skies with an agreeable wind, enough to rustle the leaves but not your hair. It’s cool this morning, but the Florida sun will keep its promise to heat the afternoon hours. The birds are singing. It’s just a day to come and go, one of work, plans and maybe rest. I spot a shiny penny on the ground, pick it up and slip it into my pocket- that’s my custom. Maybe, I do this for luck, or to prove I’m paying attention, or maybe it reminds me of my mom’s words: waste not; want not. Thing is, ninety-eight years ago, October 12th, 1918, on a day that was much like today, normal, soft, promising, my mom was born.

Her Brazilian birth certificate became an issue for my mom when she was in her forties. She’d been born in Recife, Brazil, on a mission-think of a small  building with white, plastered walls, open, sparsely decorate halls with little furniture, and windows that were not covered but open to allow the cooling sea breeze to flow through the dwelling along with any number of flying bugs or crawling snakes. Her Baptist missionary parents had little money, just faith.

When the doctor arrived to deliver mom he came prepared to record by hand the entire event as a solemn witness to the authenticity of her birth. I’ve read the translation of this birth certificate, the one mom needed to show before she could become a teacher, something, I don’t quite remember-I was young, once. Anyway, the document started like this blog has, with a complete description of the day, the morning, the breeze, the temperature and the mood of the people who’d gathered to wait for my mom to arrive-even the birds were singing. The whole thing struck me when I first read the writing. To think, the kind of day it was, not just the date, time and sex mattered. No, first and foremost the doctor thought the day’s nature was important to note. I guess that’s being in touch with the environment and believing that it and everything else about the day a person was born mattered.

Now, I think it did. My mom was always like that day. Soft, mild, never a taker but giver, a person easy to see, to be around. Her company was a joyful gift.

Dad married a 'Looker.'

Dad married a ‘Looker.’

Her smile could shame the sun; her hair, naturally blonde until almost age fifty, glimmered in the sunlight and framed her laughing eyes.

Mom had an artist flair....a painter and musican-

Mom had an artistic flair….a painter and musician-

Mom with my brother and sister

Mom with my brother and sister

She had a special look.

She had a special look.

Of course, she was my bridge to life.

Of course, she was my bridge to life.

I knew i was in luck the day she brought me home.

I knew I was in luck the day she brought me home.

She made music like the birds, playing piano with a perfect pitch and had no need for musical notations; she sparked up every gathering by pumping her pearl overlaid accordion creating sounds that made even tired feet dance.

My mom was a miracle in so many ways. She went to college at fourteen here in the states and graduated campus queen at age eighteen. I’ve an early memory of stepping through the clover and receiving a bee sting on my bare foot. She sat me on top of the newfangled gadget-the washing machine- and that’s when I  blurted out, “Mom, you’re pretty.” How hard she laughed then. My friends had been talking; not only did my pals enjoy the freedom and food my house offered them as kids, they’d noticed her hair, too.

Mom's sister's and brother's all made it to America...

Mom’s sister’s and brother’s all made it to America…

They keep an affinity for the Ocean they once lived by as children in Brazil....Family reunions always involved water.

They kept an affinity for the ocean they once lived by as children in Brazil….Family reunions always involved water.

It's been wonderful to know mom's family...

It’s been wonderful to know mom’s family…

The good years pass like a morning does in a day. One day, not like today, I became a man who had to help my mom move beyond being old to more. That was a bitter day, now over six years ago. Still, as the cardinals flutter to our bird feeder and my dog jumps up one too many times, I’m forever thankful for that day of so long ago. The doctor was right about that day-it was a perfect day. Mom has been such a blessing in my life I couldn’t live long enough to write it all down so you would know.

Whether it’s the wind that comes and goes without warning or the geese that flew over head this morning in the early daylight, chattering from high above with a noise so uniquely theirs, I don’t know. But for this time, this day, it’s all about mom for me, and I wanted you to know. I did pick up that penny when she had me.

franque23

Mom, 1918-2011. Those were good years.


What if Hillary had said, “I grab them by the balls!”

What if your wife had said that?

How about your girl friend?

You gonna jump on board and unzip your pants.?

Are you gonna vote for Trump for President? ” I grab women by the pussy.” http://www.slate.com/blogs/the_slatest/2016/10/07/donald_trump_2005_tape_i_grab_women_by_the_pussy.html

Get real. American Politics has a real problem—our discord with the past forty years with middle class earnings being reduced to squat has left us grabbing at straws…not pussy.

So Trump has out trumped himself with a vulgarity he may not be able to out do.

Meetings are being held  by the Republicans right now in Washington about what to do about Trump… but I think little can be done at this point.

Here’s to the obstructionist in Washington and the dumb ass grass roots right who lead us into this heap of a mess…

Oy Vey..BTW-the whole world is watching,, and Trump is down right embarrassing.

He’s like a shoe shine boy without a stand..or equipment.
That’s where Trump belongs. Trump has no viable platforms, no experience and no political savvy.

The man is a walking, talkin’ disgrace.. Oh my God,, please make this man shut up!

For all my daughters,,, to all  the women I’ve ever known,, to my female friends who I love dearly,,and to my wife,, please forgive me for there being a Turnip,,, no, Trump. I so mean this…I swear- I had nothing to do with this.

Vote Blue- Democratic- and turn the house and congress back to the People’s party…they support the middle class workers and our rights. The Republicans need a re-set.

Franque23

 

 


Okay Suzie Q, I do love the way you walk.

Just look at that mud! Woodstock.

Just look at that mud! Woodstock.

Heck, I noticed the difference in first grade. The girls were lighter on their feet, somehow balanced to attract my attention. Their hair was way longer,  worse, they knew stuff-some sort of magical power made them better readers and spellers.

So yeah, those early childhood magical female powers morphed big time during the high school years into throat gulping physical traits, ones that could crack a guys head open with one look.

Here, four guys practice yoga neck exercises on a park bench.  Hot took on it’s third meaning in high school..hot outside, hot to touch and ouch, plain hot. streetharassment-330x220

 

None of anything about this was fair. Girls who I thought of as women filled all guy’s minds with distraction. Females used fashion, makeup, too many smiles, hand holding-more-to dominate the scene from the pseudo-rear of power within our groupings. unnamed-4It’s been going on, like forever….

Plus, all the management of boys was encased by girl’s sharpened wit, tongues that spoke way beyond earthly speed, a million perfumed smells, a ton of books they read, whims that changed daily, skirts that might ride up when they sat at a desk, “Let’s dance” moves, great ideas about kissing, walking and those parties. Every guy I knew remained rigidly fixed by their popularity, or not, among the girls-that was key. For me, sports was an inner drive but the crowd and who it comprised was always important.

Two young men judging woman

Two young men practice math with flash cards.

The saddest thing is most high school guys were aware of the gigantic brains supported by those faces and bodies we looked over but it seldom mattered what those minds thought. The issue was mostly sex. There is an entire book* that postulates America’s move west from the east coast was led by whore houses being built further and further west as a result of laws making prostitution illegal in the east. I remember Chicago was a major whore house for New York City clients once the Big Apple shut down the business-sorta. So, roads needed to be built and other businesses popped up along the whore trade routes.

Why is it all sad? For one, the result of most men’s single fascination with the female body rather than their mind is that Mankind has missed out on most of Women’s mental powers throughout our history! Yikes!!

This man's reading all the fine print about the calamity right now.

This man’s reading all the fine print about the calamity right now.

But let’s put this another way–what if that censorship was on the other foot!??!! What if everything men had to say hadn’t been heard until the last one hundred years or so. Actually, maybe things would be….nah, we need all of us to be heard if we’re ever to make it out of the stupidity muck it seems the world has found.

So Mister Me can accept that fashion shows, world pageants, even back room pole dances are really about how people look, walk, sway, make muscles or bat eyes.

Everyone needs some fun

Everyone needs some fun

Thing is, a person’a intelligence should never be overlooked. If the world could keep it’s eye of the prize-the power of intellect-we might get somewhere. This is why Trump’s recent remark that Hillary hasn’t the look to be President is more than a bit off. What? Would he have ever dated Margaret Thatcher? That’s a low shot but it makes my point.

Looks can be deceiving. Worse, looks can kill more than a man’s ability to think with the correct head, they can kill the potential of many thinkers, hide them beneath a shroud of lust and the odd disdain some men have for owning those feelings. We as a people miss hearing thoughts we need to hear and respect because of  looks.

 
So, head’s up, men and women! And this time, Men, for this election and for the next bazillion years-at least for your lifetime- be sure the right head is up when a woman speaks. Cheers

Franque23

*Actually, I don’t think it’s this title–but this book may cover the idea…https://www.amazon.com/Upstairs-Girls-Prostitution-American-West/dp/1560373571

My books are on Kindle…. The Avatar Magic series, by Gerald Franquemont..I hope you’ll read them….

 


Last I heard, Tom Morgan is not really my cousin-I just thought he was my whole life….but as a Morgan, he will forever be family, a brother in the biggest sense. Thing is, Tom has a radio show on investments that may be the longest running radio show in the US, not sure….and he writes this column…weekly. This week’s is just flat out great. That’s why it’s here. Enjoy!

Tom writes:

  • STARSeptember10
    Just revealed: About 500 bald eagles have been killed by
    shotgun fire so far this year. Hunters bagged nearly 5000 since
    2007. Counting those that did not die, the shooters whacked
    13,000 the last five years.
    Once this news reaches the hinterland people will howl,
    you bet. They would howl if gunmen had shot 13,000 puppies or
    kittens. Or snail darters. Snowy owls or wild ponies.
    Do you suppose they would howl if the deaths were of
    5000 people? If they did, would the rest of us hear them?
    Well the figures above do not apply to bald eagles. They
    apply to people gunned down in America. People. The figures
    apply to Chicago. Yes, 500 killed since January in Chicago. And
    13,000 shot the last five years.
    Suppose guerrillas roamed in packs in Chicago, Detroit,
    Baltimore, St. Louis and Newark. Seriously. Guerillas like those
    who haunt Iraq and Afghanistan. Do you suppose Congress
    might call for action to wipe out the warriors? Do you suppose
    the President might declare war on them?
    If so, what do you suppose is holding them back? These
    cities are home to armed guerillas. Many of them operate in
    gangs. They terrorize people in countless neighborhoods. They
    shoot each other. They shoot innocents. Old men watering their
    lawns. Kids on their way to school.
    John Kass writing in the Chicago Tribune calls them “…
    feral boys, brandishing their guns in cars, waving their death
    sticks in rap videos, young African-American men who believe
    they have no future, waiting to die.”
  • Murders are all the rage in Chicago lately. But this carnage
    has been going on for years. And Chicago hits the headlines
    more because it is larger than the other cities I mentioned. The
    other cities have higher per-capita homicide rates than Chicago.
    Afriend in her 70’s guided me through her family photo
    album a few years ago. She grew up in the crime swamps of
    Cincinnati’s projects. “Here are all my aunts and uncles at a
    reunion. Uncle Fred, he got murdered. His brother Gus here was
    paralyzed in a shootout. Gert got killed. Hankie went to prison.”
    You see the news about the murders. You know there are
    lots of government programs meant to deal with them. Programs
    to help the communities deal with the violence. You know there
    is a lot of finger-pointing.
    People blame the cops. And racism. And Democrat
    machines that run these cities. And unions that won’t allow
    better schools. They blame welfare programs. Those that
    subsidize lifestyles that encourage families without dads.
    Politicians call for rebuilding infrastructure in these cities.
    But be honest. Do you see evidence of all-out warfare
    against these guerrillas? Do you have any sense that any leaders
    are trying to focus every resource against this horror? Do you
    sense our leaders have any sense of urgency about this
    nightmare?
    Or instead, do you get the feeling this nation’s approach is
    a higgledy-piggledy patchwork? My vote goes for higgledy.
    Sure would be nice if some leaders tackled this with fierce
    determination. Declared war. And enlisted forces from every
    corner of society. From business. From universities. From social
    agencies. From the police. From everywhere. And knocked
    political heads together.
  • You know they would if guerrillas invaded the posh
    suburbs around Washington. They probably would if hunters
    downed 13,000 bald eagles.
    America should be shamed we have done so little. Millions
    of our fellow citizens fear to walk their streets. Their color and
    origin have absolutely nothing to do with this. They are
    Americans. We have a moral duty to protect them. And to
    remove this cancer from their lives.
    From Tom…as in Morgan.
    Find Tom on Facebook. You can write to Tom at
    tomasinmorgan@yahoo.com.

 


 

Mom takes a look....

Mom takes a look….My first born has her second born….

It got me thinking…

Gainesville back in the day

Gainesville back in the day-you tell me when? Anyway, it was at least a simpler time, call it a slower moving time? in some ways …

Of course, the grass always looks greener-back then there was no internet and maybe three stations on TV. Calls were made through operators; there were no fancy coffees but for Maxwell house which  even Millionaires couldn’t buy …

But some things don’t change…like having babies and keeping that eternal on going string of humanity going, or not… Lots of great people, some we base our thinking upon, chose for whatever reason not to have children—* Way too numerous to list,,we can just remember Newton, Mother Teresa, both Wright Brothers, Beethoven ,Chekhov and Poe to name a few who didn’t have children.  It’s not mandatory that a person have children, but how people have avoided that  DNA driven push to go on I haven’t a clue–I couldn’t.(of course, some couldn’t have children) I was 30ish when a brick like feeling hit my head and said, “Have children,” so I proposed and, thankfully, my wife did have three.

 

Home sweet home-

Home sweet home-way back in the day….(1750)

It was back in 1750 when the man who lived in this castle sired all the Von Franquemonts/ Franquemonts that are in the world today—err, I bear the name. He liked having babies…and his 50  or so kept women gave him plenty. His name was Karl Eugen, and at the time, I guess his legitimate wife(s) didn’t mind the flock.

I’ll be going to this castle soon,,,and then to the outer rubble of what is left of the Von Franquemont castle–something to look forward too.

Thing is, and why this post is about children,, is my first-born just had her second born, Kai Louis Bhaca Shiohira was born yesterday 8/15/16 in Cape Town…He’s our 7th Grandchild.

Kelly and Hiro are still dancing!

Kelly and Hiro are still dancing! Parents for the second time… Maya and Kai are lucky to have them as leaders.

The string of humanity is amazing…and the push all parents make to get children grown up is even more mind-boggling. Children are a worry and love that is never forgotten. It was when our children reached 12ish that I realized,,Hey-this isn’t for 18 or 21 years-this is forever… and it’s  great, the forever.

Trouble is, America completely misses the point. Ruled by most businesses who seemingly care not one iota for life, families, children and education of the young, American’s struggle to raise families with shrinking incomes, devalued dollars and the poorest of Family leave benefits when children are born…

In fact….as my cousin’s son flies through the skies,, his photos remind me that this family benefit/leave policy prevalent in the US is upside down….

32271_1446662118859_4151214_n Ross does a flip in the air.

Thing is, if you look at this world-wide graph of benefits given to new moms and dads, you’ll see American’s get the short shaft when it comes to having time off, paid time off mind you, to bring their children into this world in a loving, home giving environment..

ct-paid-maternity-leave-around-the-world-20160-001http://www.sun-sentinel.com/business/ct-paid-maternity-leave-around-the-world-20160815-story.html

So, Basically, America as it is now stands to give no credence to the new family, the new child, the new life-the one the entire world depends upon if we are to continue.

Babies are legacies

Babies are legacies, and so much more,,,the future.

It's a growing world

It’s a growing world..How could the United States be one of just nine countries to offer no set leave time to new moms and dads as a National law?

the generations before and after us are the point

Our generation and the generations before and after us are the point.

The laws in place for Family Leave after birth in America, or more aptly put, not in place, are just sick. Personally, I find this more than appalling as an American-it’s disgusting. Big business only cares for money; why work for them; why support anything they want when they don’t even give a hoot about new life, the life that will push us forward when we are gone?

Here’s to the children, our new hope for humanity. Right now, I hope maternity leave for both parents changes here in America…isn’t that due?

My generation went to Woodstock because we believed in change--when will we get it?

My generation went to Woodstock because we believed in change–when will we get it?

Our family want to know--When will America change?

Our family wants to know–When will America change, and value children-families?

Franque23 loves his children and Grandchildren…don’t we all.?

*http://brianhassett.com/2010/06/people-who-dont-have-kids/


Strange times are a foot, and it isn’t just ex-Senator  Larry Craig toe-tapping for men in a rest room.

Hi, I'm Larry Craig and I'm against Gays...not being in the rest room with me.

Hi, I’m Larry Craig and I’m against Gays…not being in the rest room with me.

To be clear, I don’t care if a person is straight, twisted, circular, flat lined, up, down, sideways, standing on their head or tip-toeing through tulips, just don’t make me do someone else’s  self-appointed so-called machination of living. Me? I’m so-called normal, always have been, but the thing is, the MOST important thing is, NORMAL is a passe’ word. It’s gone kaput, fini, done, flash-fried and over easy in the new, improved world. Here’s my thought-okay, one of them, the word normal will become an obsolete term in twenty -five years. Let’s face it. Normal is a prejudice word by today’s standards.

Behavior that once stayed in the closet(BTW-how did so many gay guys do it in a closet?) is now openly paraded down  main street USA  by people wearin’ pink spandex shorties.

Hmmm maybe try the spandex after all.

Hmm, if only he’d chosen the spandex.

Whatever. Thing is, facts are coming to light that show many of our leaders who most fought against the gay communities in the past were gay themselves. Perverse, that’s the word that comes to mind.

Thought for the day…..

Huge pegs don't fit thru small holes......

Huge pegs don’t fit thru small holes……and the changes we are seeing today in standard living profiles is a hard fit into obsolete, small-minded people. So what ever happened to love the one you’re with?

Woodstock led the way when it came to the freedom to love one another---if only more had followed.

Woodstock led the way when it came to the freedom to love one another—if only more had followed.

American’s today still fight for the right to love–isn’t that odd? Generations that followed mine often complain about my generation, that we didn’t do enough–well, I say the following generations didn’t fight to make our dreams come true, but instead got swallowed alive by technology and dungeons and dragons. Which ever point is true-this is true.

 

the French parade for the right to keep the 35 hours work week

Today, 400,000 French parade for the right to keep the 35 hours work week…

While, at the same time, Americans are still parading for the right to have sex with someone?

Have to say-the outfits rock

Have to say-the outfits rock!

To this day the FBI insists no one can prove the first director of the FBI, Edgar Hoover, was gay. Of course,  Hoover lived with his male friend, Clyde Tolson, for forty years, ate lunch with him every day, went on vacations with him and left most of his estate to the man in his will–all the while Hoover led the charge against gays publicly. “In public, Hoover waged a vendetta against homosexuals and kept “confidential and secret” files on the sex lives of congressmen and presidents. But privately, according to some biographers, he had numerous trysts with men, including a lifelong affair with Tolson. http://abcnews.go.com/Health/edgar-hoover-sex-men-homosexual/story?id=14948447.”

Hoover with Tolson

Hoover with Tolson

They liked to wear matching suits

matching suits for kicks.

matching suits for kicks.

your average day quirky friendship-that's all.

your average day quirky friendship-that’s all.

In fact, the FBI warned Clint Eastwood to not portray Hoover as gay in a movie he made about the man. I think this says plenty about where the FBI still stands on the gay issue–“Oh no, this can’t be..It’s the worst thing ever!” Right…. Hey, FBI, grow up,,,meet 2016 and chill about Hoover being gay. WE don’t care!!! In the end of the day, I’ll never forget how mad my Dad got when he first heard the term , gay, being used over TV by a reporter to refer to Homosexuals… Wheweee. My dad shouted how that term meant happy! In his day, I guess it did.

 I don’t care who’s gay or not, who wears spandex or not-wait-maybe I do, dang! Each to his own! How long has that phrase been well-known, but never learned?

No, what bothers me is when gay guys, in this case, paraded as our Representatives who led charges against gay rights while they were  hold up in the moldy, secret, gay closets they loved so much! Here’s a link to a current true story that’s worth a hoot and a holler…. http://georgiboi.com/religion/16-anti-gay-leaders-exposed-gay-bisexual/ Basically, these representative guys have more than one screw loose; they must have degrees from a 101 course on how to hate yourself!

Of course, since our society will study, tear apart and rename anything under the sun so no one gets hurt by a label, the CDC–Center of Disease Control,  has determined that there is a disease where men make love to men but still are not ‘Gay’. Yeah, nice.  Okay, if that makes someone feel better.  And the HUGE bull frog I found hiding from my dog under my hose today is really a bird, or maybe a singing rabbit-not sure.  Can we just say,  it’s okay to be gay, but don’t go around showing your ass by crucifying gays from public office or any other place, be you gay or not?

Jeez is the idea of tolerance soup yet? Or, will acceptance of those who are different from us take another hundred years to finally rise to our consciousness?

One other thought after establishing the fact that some politicians, preachers and whatnot’s have had the balls to call out gay’s while they themselves are gay incognito, (I’ve always wanted to use that word in a glob)- I’ve a question… does this mean it’s correct to extrapolate that Trump has all his chips down on Isis and Muslims? It’s sorta like our whole society is looking into a fun house funny mirror-the guy who hates Muslims and who has gone bankrupt soooo many times should be President? Our gay leaders lead the charge against gays!  Peeeerfecto. Okay, it’s screw ball soup…American style.

We can ride this out together

We can ride this out together…

As a Christian minister in the Western world, I’d like to mention that Jesus’ message was hope, help, healing and above all, love. Stop the hate; join 2016, a new, brighter world. Love the next gay person you meet- you don’t have to kiss…

the sun will set on stupid ideas(Lake Bonaparte form out porch)

The sun will set on stupid ideas(Lake Bonaparte from our porch)

Franque23 wants everyone to have a gay ol’ time…and forget the lingo and the life style of others when no harm is done.

 

 

 

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