You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ category.


Check this out to understand…

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/ross-franquemont-air-force-pilot-captures-stunning-images-of-northern-lights/

Ross didn’t start out this way, a hero now on international news. No, he started as a baby, then grew to be kind of lunatic 4-year-old who insisted on going to airports to watch planes land and take off. Basically, the kid was sick. Closets were recommended; no food for a week came up when that snot nosed kid wouldn’t leave  his dad my Cousin, Jed Franquemont, alone. “Take me to the airport ,dad!”

There were long discussions about the kids fascination for flight. If you can believe it, this little guy wished to be a pilot before most kids figure out how to dress themselves.

Nuts, it’s called. All of a sudden, this kid is taking pictures from a U-2 Plane?!?!?!

Anyway,  Ross probably survived thru the Grace of God, what do I know, he was just some punk of a kid running around making plane noises during family reunions up at Lake Bonaparte as I remember. I’ve got a feeling we launched him off the dock up at the lake more than once to see if he could really fly. Nope: the kid was a flat liner.

Hey flat earth people….it’s possible the Earth isn’t flat after all!

Then, one day I get a call from my cousin Jed who tells me the kid we worried about since the day he was born is a pilot in the Air Force.  Ha!whahahaha. So I cashed in all my bonds, whatever, figuring we were about to lose a war somewhere soon. That didn’t happen and we all started to wonder?

Next I knew this kid who wanted to fly before he could zip his own was flying Generals around Europe!?!?! I figured this had to be some sort of pedal push flight machine we never used as kids. Then I learned the truth.

How was Ross making all this look so real? Sell, Sell. Sell I said to Wall Street!

I need to go back a bit and mention that this kid was never known to drink much*, but , as it came out later, his friends in europe, and the entourage of followers who drafted his wings were huge, bigly drinkers. The result quickly became a shortage of name brand beers coming out of Europe . This forced those brewers and others to develop many off-shoot beers and labels to try to circumvent the slaughter of the known labels his followers were causing…Now, it’s all history. The world has One zillion labels of beer on the shelves, and all of this is due to Ross Franquemont and his followers.

Next, kinda like a meteorite landing on your head, this single ,”I wanna be a pilot, Dad,” nuisance of a son became a U-2 pilot.  What?!?!? I said, “Sell everything and buy land in Russia.”

Rain drops keep fallin’ on my head….Nay, don’t think so.

Now before the women of the world start hoping to join the 70 thousand mile high  club with Ross they need to know that this is Jessica Franquemont, Ross’ wife. Thing is she’s beautiful, smart, articulate, kind and deadly. So kind , in fact, that she says anyone can have Ross as long as they’re six feet under and well decomposed.  Momma bear raises her three little ones with a tight fist and eagle eye! Just forget it: code to live by.

I’m certain Jessica has a good aim…

Yep, this is Ross Franquemont with his wife.. 

A great guy, true husband and father of three…he makes all of us proud. “Sorry dear, I’ll be 70 thousand miles high in the air tonight so don’t hold dinner.”

Ross Franquemont: a true Hero.

NO, Ross didn’t sink a forty-foot jumper to win the NCAA basketball championship; he didn’t heave a hail Mary pass to win the football championship. All Ross has done for the past 18 years and counting is help keep America and the World safe.

When I look up, “Hero,” in the dictionary, Ross Franquemont is in the definition.

Cheers

Franque23

*Maybe

Ross- it was that Franque23 guy who wrote all of this, not me.. Cheers, Unc.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Can you imagine? You’re a bird-really.

In my youngest days I ran from the house because feet weren’t meant to walk. The wind breezed each ear with a rush of air that rustled my hair and forced a smile. Time wasted on the way to point Z from point A while every space between called for due notice. I felt I could fly.

Are we able to fly?

Or maybe just able to unzip a fly?

Society has so many distractions for adults, but not so much for the young.

Children have interests, things to learn, explore and discover. Curiosity is not a distraction but a way of life.

I ran outside whenever I could as a child.

Was that my shadow by my side? Did a car horn blow from far off? Was the grass still wet from the morning dew or had it rained last night making the dream real? There’s a bell, but not the ice cream man—that would be afternoon—and there’s a plane flying high over head that needs a wave hello. The flowers smell smooth and soft; the sun is a blanket the size of the world.

I only remember those locked away memories when it all seems to fit. Today, it fit.

Today was a morning like most others, the sun up before me and Shadow, our dog, bouncing around my feet as though it’d been years since we last spoke. It’s spring, but the grass has yet to learn and oak pollen and flowers cover the driveways, cars, litters the pool water and bird baths.  The living room bay window calls with a glancing beam of morning light my eyes had not expected.

That’s when I saw exactly my hope. The Goldfinch had returned! At first, only ten females with one male fluttered my eyes with joy. Then, there were 24 or more finch winging this way or that, splashing in the bird bath or hanging from the thistle socks and munching on the sunflower seed feeder.

I wait every year for their return and some years we’ve had more than sixty at a time dart through our front yard. They’re a ,’peeping,’ lot and those chattering calls easily pierce through our window to tickle my ears.  Their calls rake the yard outside invading any thought with a sense of home and peace. It’s a special, short period of time to share with this bird as they migrate North to South and then back. And I’ve often wondered if the Goldfinch I see up at Lake Bonaparte, New York, during the summer months could be some of the same Goldfinch I see in Gainesville as they migrate. People would call this fantastical thinking and I agree, but I still wonder-certainly, stranger things have happened.

And other birds show up….  

Who wouldn’t want to see this painted Bunting bird, but we haven’t- not yet.

American Goldfinch and House Finch on Thistle -these are our visitors…

 And we’ve had the Blue Bunting….wonderful to see.. The Male Goldfinch is a wonder as well.

The Tufted Titmouse is about the strangest named bird I can think of…

But then  what to my wondering eyes should appear this year?Ha!

This year for the first time ever, a Downy Woodpecker is visiting our sunflower feeder…that’s fun.

Of course, the ongoing family of Cardinals our feedings have help raise are ever present as are the chick-a-dees, sparrows and nut hatch.

I do wonder how birds see us. Certainly, they know—understand—we feed them. “Hey, the bald guy’s got thistle sacks, sunflower seeds and a bath again! Let’s roll on down…” Or, how do they communicate; I’m not sure. How do they know to come here each year? It bends my mind.

Can you, just for a minute, think about flying from Northern New York State to Florida or further year after year? And what do you see? Homes, rivers, oceans, lakes, prairies, houses, cars, roads and huge cities!!!….These birds, and others like them are real-time super beings….

Just imagine if we could fly?

Some say we do, but only after we die. Some say we fly as a spirit to an endless world of light and understanding. I wonder. Don’t you? What if deep inside we are so much like the birds who sings to us each day. What if the birds in our lives are singing to remind us that our flight is coming, and we will fly? What if the birds make perfect sense to our lives?

What a trip that might be if we really did fly? What would our song be?

Franque23 See ya 


(Of course, click on the pic for a larger view.)

I’d be cutting zzz’s right now instead of writing this glob if hair-head Shadow paws hadn’t decided my two-hour nap as planned was too long. But no, one hour pushed hocker I’ve-been-eating-grass face over the edge and illegally onto my bed. This found me clutching three pillows to my face as four paws  clomped all over my body. This criminal activity happens every morning and once my eyes open I see this:

Ol’ tail-cut-like-a-knife butt-head doing the two socks are stuffed in my face shuffle.

Morning, afternoon, evening, heck anytime at all finds Shadow with one sock in his face( only my socks are allowed-he knows.) He holds it there to protect us from his happy snapping jaws. But two socks in those jaws means we’re about to have extra fun throwing the ball or, as in the case of the picture above, that he’s been secretly foraging for treats in the laundry room….

This is Shadow under his mother—he’s that little black smidgen of a puppy on the right. Surprise! He’s eating!!(Shadow as pup, some weeks after this shot, was found inside the dog food bag.)

Shadow’s an all around I’m-here-for-you-pet-me great dog; he knows all the rules by heart and only breaks them as necessary: “there’s a squirrel on the feeder so I gotta bark and stretch way up high on the window,” is one of Shadow’s favorite moments of freedom from the rules.

Shadow is watching his “TV”…and for a ‘hint’ of a squirrel.

Of course, there’s more. That neighbor in our doorway has no idea how many times we’ve said, “No jumping…” because Shadow is not technically jumping with his paws on the new victim, but only springing up three feet high in every direction as if he were on a Pogo stick.

“I wasn’t really jumping.”

“Consider that I can fly before passing judgement.”

“Really.”

It’s amazing that Shadow never begs, not technically. He has unearthly powers of knowing when we have finished eating and it’s time to come over to us; that’s nice. No, Shadow does remain away from us while we eat but for one glitch in his near perfect manners. We about need to mop the floor after we eat anything Shadow loves-“I’ll stay in place with my jaws droolin’ like a turned on faucet as you eat; no problem.”

“Promise.”

Dogs live in a contagious zone of happiness unless they are abused, sick or hurt. To be clear, dog abusers-whether they can play football of not- should be hung-up to dry for several weeks while random passer’s by get to whop the criminals with sticks. The only question is how long?

  “About twelve years.”

When you get down to it, dogs know right from wrong better than most people.

Toby toes knew not to open a present until he got the green light.

Sometimes dogs just can’t help themselves when it comes to smelly garbage cans, open refrigerators, a left cookie, a neat stuffed pillow to rip apart or other tantalizing components to life. Dogs will even try to steer their companion dog away from trouble, but often to no avail.

 

 

Right from the get-go they know right from wrong.

“Well, that might have been a bad idea…..”

“Okay, it was a bad idea….”

But who can say…

 

If shadow does make a mistake, chasing a squirrel that looks like our mailman’s truck,  he might try to ‘offset’ his slippin’ paws with humor…

and see if he can’t dig himself out…

Relentless Digging….puppy’s new American Native name.

In the end, it’s all about a dog’s tail.

You’re about to feed me, right?

The tail wagging give-away speaks volumes to those who care to listen. Seize  the day! It’s time to play! Thank goodness you’re up; it’s time to pee! How can you sit there on a day like this? These are the question that face dog owners everyday, question too hard to brush aside. If you try to ignore a dog’s truth then the ears get involved, the cocked head turns as an exclamation point and the, “I’ll sit and shake,” comes into play.

Dog is God spelled backward but in essence they are both about goodness. Go snuggle that here’s-my-tummy-to-rub  doggie face of yours…These are the great times.

A dog is Man’s best friend, and maybe teacher, too.

Franque23.

 

See ya…

 

 


Here’s a link to the story I tried to post this wkend. Thing is, this is as amazing as it is odd, different, astounding, maybe, astronomical.

I enjoyed the read. There is something about the Robin Hood survival motif that thrills the soul. I often favor the underdog in sports, and I guess people who for whatever reason move away from conventional ways of living rate as under dogs. Or, are they the smart ones?

http://www.madriverunion.com/cabin-discovered-in-arcata-community-forest/

 

 

But, to get the whole story you also have to read this link second…

http://tribunist.com/news/creepy-cabin-found-hidden-in-public-woods-once-it-was-discovered-things-got-really-mysterious/

I hope you enjoy the read, too.

Franque23 has gone fishin’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


He spun his own yarn and could tell a good one, too…

Chronic myeloproliferative neoplasms are diseases in which the bone marrow makes too many red blood cells, platelets, or certain white blood cells. Myelodysplastic syndromes are a group of cancers in which immature blood cells in the bone marrow do not mature or become healthy blood cells.

This was the bugger that ended Ed’s life.

We hoped for a break-through in stem cell research for about five years (it seems it may have been longer) but there was ongoing debate about whether stem cell research should be done at the time.

Buz achieved merit badges by the bunches-and never stopped pickin’ up honors and medals during his life.

Ed-who we called Buz- was third in the Nationals while wrestling as Captain of the Harvard team.

He was my captain as well. He gave me strength, courage, and cut a swath via his Mineola High School achievements wide enough for me to draft through.

No one ever had a better big brother—positive.

The song, The circle Game, runs through my head as I write this, and the fact that Buz never got to play out an old age end game. I’d loved to have seen that.

This is dad holding Ed….My mom always said Ed’s lips ran all over his face as a new born—

This is an impossibly great shot of his wife, Chris Franquemont, holding a picture and Ed’s hat while they were in Peru…that went on for 10ish or so years.

Ed and Chris loved Peru, primarily they worked in the area of Cusco, a city in the Peruvian Andes, once capital of the Inca Empire. This is my recollection, and I believe they each spoke and understood the Quechuan language along with a few variant dialects.*

Thing is, I could go on writing about Ed’s accomplishments, a man mentioned in passing within the Smithsonian magazine but, really, a friend who knew him asked about Ed’s passing, and it occurred to me that others may want to know.

He lived via blood transfusion quite well for years after diagnosis hoping for a medical break through in stem cell research, and then for more years with discomfort and weakening condition. I spoke with him weekly-it was as though we were wrestling the same match, planning our strategy each month. The question was when to have the operation where 50% died on the table but a few lived well for about 5 to ten years after…..109-2

We had hope.

We decided to not take the gamble unless, until, it was absolutely necessary. That time came.

13707669_10154338736209254_5159886886048725828_n

We had so many wonderful  sunup’s and sunsets. We wanted more.

Finally, a perfect transplant match for Ed was found near the region of Stuttgart, Germany.  Oddly, we have since learned that this is exactly the region where all the first Von Franquemont and Franquemont ancestry lived! It was soon to be Ed’s 57 birthday, and the day his operation was scheduled in the Chicago Mayo hospital. I went to see him the previous week, and the doc said Ed should go home for weekend to celebrate his birthday since he might die on the table during the upcoming operation.
 13769524_10157113592055487_2269551573294768511_n (1)
It all made sense.
15940573_10154865232464254_8949583570958447140_n

We all hoped he’d make it.

Chris and Buz left the New Heaven Hospital that Friday and headed to their nearby home via car. Of course, Chris was driving.  A driver ran a stop sign and hit their car on Ed’s passenger side.

544601_731180010235027_919763668_n

Mom, then almost ninety, took the news hard, we all did. It’s the only time I ever heard her question God.

Ed had no clotting abilities by the time of the accident. Once he returned to the hospital and was deemed not fit for a transplant due to  his serious condition after the accident, Ed elected not get any more transfusions. He called and gave me the news. I flew back up immediately, calling my job during an over lay in Atlanta to notify work I wouldn’t be showing up that day. It was an odd flight. We cleared the North shore of Long Island as we approached New Heaven and below was the north shore ocean beach cliffs Buz and I had spent many hours rolling, sliding and falling down as kids. To see them again wrench my gut and put my mind in a daze. I remember mumbling, “Wow; Wow; it’s them…” imgp6356-cropped-small

Next thing I knew a flight attendant was asking me if I was alright. I’d so many answers to give. “Yes. I’m alright.” It was easier to lie.

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES

I couldn’t face the moment.

Buz had come to his last day. He was a great fan of my music, always encouraging me on— I sang one of his favorite songs the afternoon before he died … “There are places I’ll remember, some have gone and some have changed….” In my Life, by the Beatles…The Beatles – In my Life – YouTube

Somehow, I was lucky enough to spend his last night together with him, just the two of us, sleeping  in the same room as we had throughout our childhood days until he’d left for college.

1929698_29251834253_9065_n

Buz never let me down.

We spent hours talking about old memories of our childhood days, countless wiffle balls games,  pickin’ apples for dad in our backyard, scouts, our dog,  Socks, football contests with Bill and Pete Einhorn, and stink bomb disasters in our home’s basement. He told me his two biggest regrets were not having life insurance and not visiting our Lake Bonaparte camp more often.199-2
From our porch at Lake Bonaparte.

Ed gulped for air most of the  night. By four AM I told him I had to sleep, and when I awoke at 6ish he was unconscious. We never spoke again. I whispered in his ear to stay alive until we reached the funeral place. This was important as his death would be free if he was admitted alive–I don’t remember the whys of that, but he died one minute after entering building.

1012014_731329910220037_1823720096_n

Buz came as a child and left a great man.

I got to hug Ed’s body in a private place before they took him for cremation. His muscles were sound, his face at rest. Tears, water droplets, came from the corners of both his eyes—they say this is a normal function of dying. Of course, I wailed; still do.

1150321_731357636883931_1584974031_n

I thought Ed would be here now-

Buz had a libation service by the ocean behind the building where he’d died.  The day, one like so many, would never be like any other.  Breezy, cloudy, or was the sky clear and the sun bright, I’m the eye-witness who could not tell.  The man giving the service seemed to have a sense of how great Ed was. The water poured to the ground, never long enough, as the waves came to shore forever.

1526512_731339736885721_343453593_n

Time went so fast.(Ed’s on the lower left.)

That night I was alone in my hotel room and heard music playing over head.  The song, In My Life,  the one I’d sung for Ed the day before, and many more Beatles songs played for hours-piped right into my room! I thought it so odd for a hotel to do this! How could they know? The next morning while talking to relatives who stayed in the same hotel I heard there was no music—they all agreed.  I’d hallucinated the tunes, I guess, though forever I’ll believe Buz was there playing the music for me.

988424_10152084965389254_836493205_n

Buz had my back.

I loved Ed–a brother of brothers and adviser to so many.

Ed Franquemont, hosted the Nova special, Secrets of the Lost Empires: The Incas.  (found it here-you don’t have to subscribe; Ed comes on about 2 minutes in- ….https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P00JR9b-PhE

My heart is broken as so many others over the loss of this great man.

Now,  you know.
Paulette, thanks for asking.
Franque23.

*For much more on Ed Franquemont, what it was like to know him and of his accomplishments, see Abby Franquemont’s Face Book page.  She has some great writings on Ed and his wife, Chris. Thanks for those, Abby.

Some are gone or changed forever.(Ed; Sharon, our sister; Me.)


(click on every pic….they open up.)

Odd, but today outside, this morning, the air fresh and sky cloudy, a light mist of pollen in the air, the birds chirping, I felt the call to life I haven’t heard or wholeheartedly answered since my cousin, Linda Martin, died. A month, two, pass so quickly. I stood at the doorway and listened. The wind ruffled the leaves to a rustle, still the birds sang, my dog’s feet clomped the earth as he ran, and there was the call.   The call came so loud to my head it shut my eyes.

Then, I saw.

 

The jungle grew, the earth alive on its own behalf, breathing, swaying, resting. I was inside the dance for a moment before my eyes opened to a different place. I took a step but it stretched too far, the spinning earth had added to the stride bringing me to a place I hadn’t expected. There, at my feet, was a small, yellow daisy growing for its life among the grass. I would have never seen this flower—though the yellow pedals screamed for attention—if I hadn’t taken the time and the moment been so right, all predicated upon my stride being out of joint.

 

The daisy seemed to speak.

Shadow noticed.

It’s a new day, one to live. There are memories, yesterdays, that we surf on to the next with each new day not promised but expected. I’ll never forget peeking into my first born’s bedroom early in the morning thinking she’d be asleep but, no, 3-year-old Kelly was on her knees on her bed, spreading the blinds to see the morning light… ” A new day…” She whispered the words  some thirty-five years ago and set my soul on this blog.

Kelly caught on to everything quickly….

And took it all in.

It’s a New Day. One to embrace.

Children explore everyday.

There’s so much to do and so much to be done; I never wish a day over, but try to stretch it out, like a stride taken out of joint. Wednesday, Friday,,,they fill the same amount of space on the calendar but play out in unique, always different ways.

Expectancy for the moment can leave the next taken for granted.

It’s easy in this hurried, worried world to over look the flower within us: life. That’s the gift we have to share.

Bloom where we are.

The Old Man’s Beard tree is coming out again.

We’re jumpin’ for joy.

Franque23

The red single Hibiscus… Bye. Here’s to a happy, snappy, spring.

 

 


I received this post in an email without a credit. But it all got me thinking—Does what’s up have to come down? If it were a good thing and up to me, it’d always stay up! Maybe, Chicken Little , Henny Penny got me started on this—don’t know. Nevertheless, thanks to whoever did write this, and to reader Barbara for sending it my way.

ashleymbhs6-edublogs-org-disney-chicken-little-sky-falling

Hold up! Take a minute to read about a word that is used so often it is almost like a hicc(up) in our language.

Up as it came to me……

“An amazing 2 letter English word.

A reminder that one word in the English language that can be a noun, verb, adjective, adverb and preposition:

UP

Read until the end …  you’ll laugh.

This two-letter word in English has more meanings than any other two-letter word, and that word is ‘UP.’  It is listed in the dictionary as an [adv.], [prep.], [adj.], [n] or [v].

It’s easy to understand UP, meaning toward the sky or at the top of the list, but when we awaken in the morning, why do we wake UP?

At a meeting, why does a topic come UP?  Why do we speak UP, and why are the officers UP for election and why is it UP to the secretary to write UP a report?  We call UP our friends, brighten UP a room, polish UP the silver, warm UP the leftovers and clean UP the kitchen.  We lock UP the house and fix UP the old car.

At other times, this little word has real special meaning.   People stir UP trouble, line UP for tickets, work UP an appetite, and think UP excuses.

To be dressed is one thing, but to be dressed UP is special.

And this UP is confusing:  A drain must be opened UP because it is stopped UP.”

It goes on to ask, What’s the first thing you do when you wake up and last thing you do before going to sleep? U….P…. Whaaahahha……..

So that’s it-of course, you know I’m never gonna shut up.

'Didn't you see the tweet? The sky is falling!'

Anyway, this hat will protect me if what’s up ever does come crashing down!

hangover-dog-mexican-hat

Franque23


A report today….
“But the defining moment for Mr. Bannon came Saturday night in the form of an executive order giving the rumpled right-wing agitator a full seat on the “principals committee” of the National Security Council — while downgrading the roles of the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the director of national intelligence, who will now attend only when the council is considering issues in their direct areas of responsibilities. It is a startling elevation of a political adviser, to a status alongside the secretaries of state and defense, and over the president’s top military and intelligence advisers.” *
Is anyone out there thinking like I am that this isn’t good? Does this move bode well for American security?
Here’s part of the deal in a ‘Nut-shell’, no pun intended. Trumps basic thematic message during his presidential campaign was to not trust our experts in Washington since they’d screwed everything up for the past so many years. This is why, in part, his appointments seem so left fieldish. (No,I don’t mean fiendish) Trump has turned away from appointing established experienced party members who may seem qualified for positions and mostly chosen out-of-the-blue new faces instead. Why? Experience doesn’t matter—this is part of Trump’s message.  When a horse is in a race, experience doesn’t make that horse win, the horse just has to be faster than anyone else in the race to win.
I get that twenty or more years of discontentment with a weakening middle class, blue-collar workers, farmers and many well-educated grads who can’t find work in their field of study, has created a huge ground swell of grass roots voters. They agreed with Trump: throw the experience out; it isn’t helping us.
It’s just that some areas of our government does, by an inherent understanding, require experience to be ,well, safe. Screw up a pipe line decision and some will be happy, others mad, some better off and others may die. Thing is, many agendas have a ‘wash’ affect built within their sphere’s of influence. But National Security?
National Security in terms of how America postures with long-term adversaries and new-found threats is NOT an area where experience is to be taken lightly—no way, no how.  An event that leads the world closer to conflict is not akin to the barn door being left open; it’s  can be so much worse.
I had a father and his four brothers who all fought in war for our Military. I have relatives now who have served or are serving in our military. Through their eyes I have been given small glimpses into the severe importance of our military’s actions. Trump should have never downgraded our own Generals and our CIA when it comes to his access to their opinions and intelligence. He did that today, and it’s wrong.
I trust our military; we have the strongest military in the world! Anyone who thinks as I do that our military leaders are the ones who should be advising our President on military maters of national security had better contact their representatives or the White House.
Democrats and Republicans need to unite and stop this particular peculiar move by President Trump.
Franque23

Trump effectively won the election by convincing Americans that our country had become the worst thing since rotten apples. Thing is, if today’s successful women’s march on Washington doesn’t end up creating change it will most likely be due to one reason: people are basically too comfortable living to keep up the hard work it will take to force change.

See? It’s a time of weird dynamics, an ill-shaped trapezoid of varying dichotomies festers within American society-inside the heads of American voters. Collectively we drop 90 million at the box office and complain about the price of bread after enjoying the show.

Trump recognized the beast that is our society, grabbed the reins and is now gonna lead us to where ever the hell we are going.  Trump is no moderate. He may be insane, some have claimed it, but he’s no dummy. There have been lunatics in world history, leaders, who didn’t digest power well. How will Trump do? I imagine the plethora of American power upon Trump’s plate. The congress are his servers; Americans his workers. Who will he tip, retain or shaft?

It seems ‘wine-and-dine’ is key when it comes to surviving Trump’s moods.

Those who donated generously to Trump’s campaign efforts are being rewarded with high paying prestigious appointments. The government contracts and financial awards to come may mostly go unnoticed as they pass beneath the table, but they will happen as well.  Mexico will never pay for any part of an American built wall but a relative of a relative or business partner of Trump’s will make out like a bandit building it. They will deposit our tax dollars.border As it stands now, people play volleyball over the Mexican/US boarder fence.

Trump rose to power by raking the imagination of less fortunate  workers with mind twisting lingo, ‘I could shoot someone and my followers would still love me,’ and by opening their closets so full of demons, hate, prejudice, notions of white power and abusive attitudes toward women and minorities in general.  NAFTA, a notion first brought to America’s attention by Ronald Reagan in a televised speech so long ago, has helped fuel the downturn plight of American workers-this and other business dealings have withered the spirits of American workers and enabled them to be set aflame by the biting rhetoric of Trump, the likes of which America has never heard before, not in its entirety, not as such a wide sweeping rout of long-held American ideals. (“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”)

For now, the die is cast for America. The color seems white; the room divvied up by what is hated most. Trump’s call for American loyalty may be a battle cry of a contest that will be held among ourselves.

We just don’t know about Trump’s Presidency, yet. His appointments look bad to anyone who isn’t rich or making a buck digging the earth. Still, Trump has that amazing opportunity to turn on a dime and send America into an economic boom by pushing huge solar power contracts and building the infrastructure needed to make this power source feasible. America certainly needs work done on its roads, bridges and dams; there are huge employment opportunities waiting. Will he punch those buttons, or keep asking his cronies in congress to bring him more wine?

Trump the multi-millionaire appoints other millionaires to run his administration. I wonder how the cowboy who rides in a saddle that needs replacing feels about that? A lot of underemployed or non-working Americans put Trump in office. In turn, you me and every other hard-working American can rest assured that Trump will be making billions for his businesses while in office.

As a protest, the Right, Alt-Right and others have elected the same old, same old. Many of those who voted for Trump are seeing this now. Great. NOT! I suspect many will have to put-off buying new tires for their truck this year or, maybe, for four years. Five hundred thousand American marchers went to Washington D.C. today because they see a possible train wreck that is Donald Trump coming. People marched today all over the world for Humanitarian rights. But are these marchers merely waving signs and flags in front of a charging bull? Time will tell.*

In NYC.

In NYC.

womens_march_london In London

womensmarch Dublin

Australia, Antarctica, France all around the globe…Here’s a link to see them.https://www.aol.com/article/news/2017/01/21/womens-march-protests-are-unfolding-in-different-countries-arou/21659913/#slide=4359560#fullscreen

Franque23

  • some numbers in today’s women’s day marches
  • Washington DC 500,000
    LA 500,000 +
    NYC 300,000 +
    Chicago 250,000
    Denver 200,000
    Seattle 150,000
    Boston 125,000
    Madison Wi 100,000
    Portland 100,000
    Minneapolis75,000
    Atlanta 60,000
    Austin 50,000
    Philadelphia 50,000
    Raleigh 18,000
    Des Moines 26,000
    Pittsburgh 25,000
    San Diego 22,000
    Nashville 20,000
    Santa Ana 20,000
    St Petersburg 17,000
    Cleveland 15,000
    Oklahoma City 12,000 +
    Kansas City,MO 10,000
    Charlotte 10,000
    Ithaca 10,000
    Greensboro 8,000
    Montpelier VT 8,000 + (pop 10,000 many I 89 exits shut down)
    Asheville 10,000
    Albuquerque 10,000
    Tallahassee 10,000+
    West Palm Beach 7,000
    Orlando 6,000
    Tucson 5,000
    Trenton 5,000
    Athens Ga 4500
    Doylestown, PA 2,000.
    Hillsborough (my town!) 2000
    Harrisburg PA 1,100
    Jonesborough TN 1000+
    Saskatoon 800-1000 (pop 260k)
    Palmer AK 800
    Murray KY 700
    Black Mt NC 400
    Morganton NC 500
    Houghton / Hancock Michigan: 300+
    and on and on and on.and the whole world. wow.

I worry. I do worry for Trump’s safety.

“He can blow me!” I’ve heard it said.

“I love the man.” I’ve seen it written.

“Make America great again!” Everyone heard the call that was confusing to some, but it rallied voters.

Thing is, Trump’s successful romp through bankruptcies,  scores of litigation, forthright allegations of sexual abuse and a new world’s record of flip-flops, no wait, of merely not making any position he has clear but that he’d build a wall that Mexico would pay for (except we would pay for it), is a montage of miraculous wonderment.  WTH?!?!

There are few groups left Trump hasn’t lambasted, outed in tweeter rants or belittled. Muslims love the guy, right? China is excited about his position on Taiwan. Some Mexican’s might love to have the guy for dinner-literally. The disabled feel ridiculed-did a man running for President actually imitate a disabled person while on stage?-and women may have to stop wearing skirts when he’s in the room. Of course, with the NRA in America and world-wide wholesale weapon sales, a few of these groups may have guns. Right?

There’s a right and wrong way to get what you want in America-ask Bonnie and Clyde. Trump needs to understand this basic principle.

Working within the system is important.

Working within the system is important.

Then again, it takes guts to right a wrong as the first woman to run in the Boston Marathon found out.

Men attacked the first woman to run in the race....

Men attacked the first woman to run in the race….

Good intentions, truth, what is right shines from within, and no amount of misguided thought can dim that light.

And it all could be so different if only Donald would leave his combatant life style behind and embrace his new-found success. He’s pushed through enough electoral votes to win the Presidency of the United States. Now is not the time for him to dice up the country as though he was engineering a hostile business merger-a take over.

The people surrounding Donald Trump aren’t helping him transition in a successful way.

Trump bites back when he needs to cajole his opponents, not contest them. Trump  needs to persuade, not invade other people’s ideas. When he needs to inveigle people, he enrages them.  For every wheedle he should make, he needles the point instead and makes people sore. Where he should coax, he’s a backwash of shellac; a call for charm seems to prompt him to cause harm, to be verbally abusive, almost child-like, a school yard bully in uppity clothes.

Why? Why can’t Trump relax in his new skin and put on the cloak of negotiation?

Trump needs to wear a new set of clothes.

Effective methods used to gather America’s greatest thinkers and politicians alike would yield Trump real power. If I learned one thing from being a head negotiator for a powerful union it is this: true power does not come from discord, but from keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.*

Someone in the know, for Trump’s sake, for America’s sake , needs to talk to the new President elect and make him see the world in a different light-turn on the light  so to speak.

Someone has to pull this switch, and change Trump.

Someone has to pull this switch, and change Trump.

Trump needs to change if he is to become a successful President.  No one can bankrupt a country and enrage the world and walk away with the profits.

Trump's banging himself over the head with his own words.

Trump’s banging himself over the head with his own words; he won’t cash in.

Trump can change. It’s never too late to change. Thing is, Trump has to change.

The world can only hope. For more on this, here’s  a link to an article that says this all better than I could hope to.

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/01/18/opinion/retweeting-donald-trump.html?&moduleDetail=section-news-3&action=click&contentCollection=Opinion®ion=Footer&module=MoreInSection&version=WhatsNext&contentID=WhatsNext&pgtype=article&_r=0

Franque23.

  • *Sun-tzu
    Chinese general & military strategist (~400 BC)

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

April 2018
M T W T F S S
« Mar    
 1
2345678
9101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
30  

Categories

Advertisements