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It’s happening today all over America and it happened in Gainesville, Florida, too. Crowds of people got out to say enough is enough! We want to ban large magazines, assault type weapons used most often in mass shooting, demand background checks for all gun purchases at any venue of sale-retail, guns shows and online sales.

We want the mass shooting to stop; thoughts and prayers are not enough!image

The message once was, Peace. Today it’s, Stop Killing Us!

Bands played throughout the first 3 hour session of speeches and I couldn’t help but think of two guys that had a lot to do with my awakening—if not the World’s—to the idea of peace.

88164ecb2198992016fedeadee431b28 Waaay  young John Lennon and George Harrison…

By 1:30 the number pushed well over one thousand and all the time the messages that belong to this movement were heard loud and clear.

The crowd grew and the chanting became louder.

Then it was time to march but first we gathered all the students together in the center to applaud their work on this issue.

I think it’s of historical significance to note that the Nam war protests were led by students mostly college age. It was the young that led the way then as our younger students are leading the way now.* Politicians who scoff at the age of those leading this gun reform movement have failed to pay attention to history.  This group right here, the ones attacking the NRA led agendas in our country, are going to win. The politicians who put their chips down on the NRA are done, over-finished.

So how big was the Gainesville crowd…well, the line stretched nearly 1/2 mile long, and many deep. Old folks, father’s, mother’s, adults of every age, families, people pushing babies, skipping children, a huge amount of school age people and people pushing wheelchairs made the numbers bigly.

The chants continued:

March for Life!

Say No to NRA! Vote them out!29512883_10213899868544779_2253486432933025462_n

It was great to see friends there…**29498062_10213901109895812_8206434635422649271_n

 

The line of marching people felt endless, and my heart hopes so.

29511797_10213901479065041_2842824743314048217_n

As some of the speakers today knew one, two or all of the dead from the Parkland shooting personally, some signs also had a personal touch.

No, today didn’t feel like ,’another,’ event. The words, the feelings expressed, the messages and energy collectively gathered today represent a nation-wide movement that will continue. This time  America’s guns laws and the meaning of  the Right to Bear Arms will change. It’s the Nam protest day’s force all over again and these younger folks will not let go.

But what messages today let’s me know the time’s are a changin’?

We are in this together. And we will vote. Politicians who have so far refused to heed the call to disarm our society are already scurrying for a way to hide or re-invent their position.29541571_10213899931186345_2538367165260030756_n

A huge movement is coming around to think the NRA as it stands today is a real threat to American society.

Sending thoughts and prayers to the parents and loved ones over the death of their loved ones won’t work again, never again. All the so-called kids here today had this on their minds,

and they won’t forget.

Today we had an elegant speaking 11-year-old ask our Representatives one question? “Do you think we are stupid?”

Some Representatives do, and some have belittled the age of these protestors…. Trust me, the time is coming to end the office of those who do.

Power to the People no matter their age is alive and well-

Cheers 

Franque23

*Thanks to dale for this connection and for all of the pictures…

** Thanks to Joey and Debbie for their pictures as well.

 

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Jed’s still a child in my mind’s eye. We’re running across the bluff by Lake Bonaparte where our lake house stands today; his brother Johnny is still alive. Jed’s a skinny kid who knows more than me, taller,  wise with eyes clear enough to see through. We’re laughing for good reason—we don’t know any different.

The wild outside had nothing on our childhood dreams, hopes and expectations. The cool lake water tickled our toes and pleased our fancy. Our younger days passed so quickly, days never tethered but set free by a glistening lake so perennial and steadfast as the universe.

Jed, you’re forever my cousin.

Truth: the lake bunk house rocked with laughter. Sleeping bags kept us warm on cots as nights made of stars crept overhead. Jed had then and always a special knack that makes me belly laugh. I’d roll inside bent over after hearing his pensive hilarious words so dryly spoken without a wasted syllable. Recently, there was this moment:

“Oh, being a tax collector has it’s tough moments.”—I could see the painful far away look in Jed’s eyes— “Catching people cheating on taxes, fining them more than they can afford to pay and then working them through payment negotiations; it’s all tough. But that’s not the most fun I’ve had working-other things come up, too.” It’s belly laugh roll on the grass time for me.

We stood together, grown men on the bluff as the setting sun dazzled rolling lake waves. The wind seemed at our back; Beer Island, High Rocks, Birch Island and Round Island so distant punctuated every day we’d spent in the spot as children.

A few years later we visited the lake again…

“I’m not sure about going to the castle.” Jed puffed on his cigar as he looked my way.

“Why? It’s our family’s castle; we should go to Germany.”

“We’re so different now— I don’t know how that would work.”

“Ah, that’s all just politics; this is blood; it will be good.” (Jed told me eight years ago that he had a ‘special’ circular file where he put all my blogs*, especially the political ones…)

“Well,” puff on cigar again, “let me think about it.”

I thought Jed would come.

He belongs.

As it turned, Jed never did make the trip to Europe this past September. Opportunity, so often a doubled edged sword, has struck its blow. No, Jed was only there in spirit with me just as it is for every cousin of mine. To me, the bonds of family never break but boil in the blood and remain as resilient as images of  Lake Bonaparte appear in my head. Some cousins long dead 11 or 13 years ago, and even Johnny now 55 years gone, still linger in my heart.

Long ago, Grandma Franque smiled at our young, prancing feet at the lake in a way I can only appreciate some 60 years later. She saw what Jed and the rest of us had then; family. I feel that now.

Goodbye, Jed, my lakeside cousin.

It’s impossible to weigh a heavy heart-

Franque23

 

  • *.i.e. trash can

Isn’t that the question? Are those who have gone before us still here? Or, are those departed here some of the time, for a second, hour, day or week and then gone for a while? Could it be the dead are never, ever here at all, gone for good, silent, an empty place in our heart and mind only?

Sometimes I can hear my dad’s voice. “That a boy!”; “Keep your nose clean!”; ” Up an’ at em'”; “Mow today.” Wait, what???*

Really, sometimes I can hear Dad asking me to mow, and I mean asking. Dad was a sweet guy so he’d always asked, never demand, and added a “Hon.” to it. “How about mowing today, hon.” And when Dad did ask me to do something it was a done deal-that’s the way our family rolled.

I’d say dad’s patience and understanding could move mountains.

I’m thinkin’ Dad was successful at about everything he tried to do. The oldest of five siblings, we got it that Dad helped his brothers and sister go through college while he was in school as well. We have accounting books he kept during his younger days and every penny mattered and was tracked. He was on the Queen Elizabeth as it sailed to England loaded with troops during World War II and he was in charge of some of the troops on board. As a chief engineer, he helped in the restoration of Europe after the war, and here at home my family actually drove over a bridge out west that he had designed.

In the end, Dad became a Full Colonel, and upon his death Fort Drum sent an honor guard to play taps and present mom with an American flag on Dad’s behalf. An officer on the base researched Dad’s history of service and told me, “He deserves this.” Later that same day, Fort Drum  flew a missing man formation for him over Lake Bonaparte.  There, low, just above High Rocks, a line of helicopters flew but one was missing in the line formation. My eyes stared at the empty spot and saw my dad’s spirit there. It was quite a send off for a man I’ll never forget.

Thing is, just how, ‘off’, is Dad? Of course, he lives through me since I still hear his voice, remember things he said, still follow his advice when I can and think of him often. I imagine most who knew him remember his kind and gentle way. But, is Dad here, here, as in here.(This my most descriptive sentence ever:-)).

Dad is 72; Kelly one. He gave me so much. I was so happy to be able to give something back.(Thanks to my wife!) He loved his grand children.

If a person lives long enough, they learn that life’s a long road-the long and winding road. Life twists and turns at the drop of a hat, a gift, an accident, a brilliant idea or mistaken one, it tumbles along but always with effort. Perhaps, the best thing I ever read about life is that one lived full of good intention will become a beautiful memory.

The red single Hibiscus… Dad loved flowers and grew all kinds around our home.

To this day I think of Dad as I garden, check the flowers, pick the oranges and smile at the sky. Maybe the question is, How much more could my dad be here?

I was cleaning a spot off the bottom of our pool with a long brush when I noticed that I couldn’t see the spot once the water rippled. Then, as the water return to calm, I could see the spot once more. Is this it? Are the departed still within our medium but the substance is somehow rippled so we can’t see the other side of life? Wouldn’t we all like to know.

Dad shared our joys in life, and gave us so many…

Heck, Dad gave us the camp at Lake Bonaparte! How completely cool is that? The next time I gear up and climb in the boat, hear the engine kick up and head out to fish, Dad will be in the boat, but he won’t need a life jacket.

Bye Dad , for now.

Max Franquemont, July 18th, 1911- October 31st, 2001.

Franque23.

  • Pictures: Dad,  David Morgan, Aunt Virginia(Dad’s sister)  and Uncle Moe Morgan. On the 1/2 way dock at our camp.

 


I still believe, because of the timing, Trump could be one of America’s greatest Presidents if he’d make a few radical changes to his personality and agendas…

Trump can give America a great future with a wave of his hand.

Trump’s so close and he’s been given so much, not just from his dad who left him a fortune but by fate. The hand this current President has been dealt is loaded with trump cards, and all because of the calendar’s date. The time for huge upheaval, a powerful surge of change is at hand in America and the World. Trump holds all the cards to win these times over if he makes the right play.

In nineteen twenty, no one could see the horse and buggy days vanishing by nineteen thirty-two. There were a few companies working on cars back then, even earlier—Studebaker developed an electric car in 1902

1902 electric car

and then a gasoline powered car in 1904—

1905 Studebaker gas powered car

but, basically  buggies made fortunes and most believed horses were here to stay. Oh my, how the world had changed nineteen years later.

But what about now? Proponents of renewable energies clamor on about climate change, pollution and the urgent need for change if we are to save our future. The old guard of gas, oil and coal remain dug in, entrenched and supported by fortunes earned in the past, and point to a need for newer technologies before renewable energies can provide the world’s need for power. Most say it will be thirty years or longer before the renewable industry can compete with fossil fuels and make a dent in the power market.

Think back to the Nineteen twenties…..

Here’s the key to now: http://safeshare.tv/w/ntjwDrwEwh

As you see in this short two minute clip, knowledge is not increasing in a linear, even pace that can be charted or tied to any speed. No, we live in exponentially growing times of size, number, knowledge and possibility. Our time, Trump’s time, can best be thought of as a rocket ship that zooms to an unknown place with ever-increasing speed.

Get ready for the ride of our lives!

Just now, Las Vegas has gone to 100% renewable energy for the entire city-the result of a ten-year long renewable energy project. Some trains now run virtually energy free while transporting six-hundred thousand workers per day! * Even smaller, individual renewables are making developmental leaps. **Today, more people work in renewable energy than those who work in coal, gas and oil production and exploration combined!

Trump looks to  fossil fuels as our answer but it’s not. And as President, Trump has the power, the gift, to be the one who moves America as if by a flip of a coin into a bright future, to jobs, huge prosperity, abundance, leadership and a brand new world. Drilling, mining, fracking, dirty pipe lines that bust, these are the horse and buggy of our day; Trump’s day,*** but he can change this.

The reins of huge change are in Trump’s hands if he’ll only take them. Come on Trump; you know what you should be grabbing. The chance to make history is before you but you have to step up.

Trump’s on the wrong side of so many things like the Paris Climate accord and a wall that won’t work unless we post large signs on it that read, “No ladders or tunnels allowed.” BTW, 70% of all illegals got into America by plane…he’s also completely off on ‘Clean Coal’, that the oxymoron of the ages.****

And then, there’s the problem of ISIL. Trump’s right that the world has to do better at vetting immigrants and protecting our populations from random violence. How to do it; that’s another tipping point of history now.

CNN said it best today: “So, the state visit will go ahead, and there will be protests. But if Trump could only get off Twitter for five minutes and focus on the essentials of the Western alliance, he’d discover that Europe is edging closer to his way of thinking on the most important issue of our time. (ISIL)There is, increasingly, more agreement between us than disagreement.”

There you have it. Trump has to cut his losses, time spent on bad ideas, and grab the future as it’s truly unfolding, not just the way he wants it to go. Trump sits on a gold mine of Time.
Someone should tell him.

Who will tell him?

Franque23

*https://www.facebook.com/DavidAvocadoWolfe/videos/10154211237456512/?hc_ref=NEWSFEED

**https://www.smartflower.com/en

***America’s three largest producers of power from fossil fuels all sold their entire interests in Alberta’s shale fields back to Canada just this year…They see the renewable’s coming.

**** Just read that President Trump mused about lining his great wall with solar panels.


It’s that wink of a second in a slip, the moment just before smacking the ground when it all comes back. Yes, those wrong way turns taken so enthusiastically and the too many times pee laughed into my pants, those drinks poured left on the counter by two beers already opened, those broken romances that fractured the same way with a screw you suck-head let’s be friends and the pets who were out for food or thinking of me as food all come zinging back.

It’s all so simple.

It’s in the shape of a shadow when the montage of my trophies, good grades, degrees, parking citations, accidents, lawyer bills and self-written Dear John letters left in dusty closets merge the past and present to unravel through the unknown as History zooms ahead.

If I’d seen that slip coming I’d have laid down first. Thing is, I’d end up on the ground anyway, right? Good intentions have blown up roads.

How nice that guy who got hit by an apple figured out why his head hurt; deduction is a beautiful thing. But what about why falling down is a snap of a fact while getting up takes about sixteen months in the beginning and then becomes impossible near the end of this zillion-ring circus called life? Thing is, the circle of life may be round but it’s hard to find its fair side. Ask the Syrian refugees about fairness.

They say the good die young.

Can the Earth slip?

When we look up, are we?

How can we feel a sense of alarm when these are in clocks, not heads?

A few years back—the timeline’s history so who cares—some guys decided that Europe and North America were on top of a thing that was round, not flat. Maybe, they figured if we were on the bottom of the ball we’d fall off like nothing else did. That logic, along with a cocktail of mistaken thoughts made in history by names no one can spell is the basis of life as we know it, and maybe why so much has slipped.

Is the point to this traffic jammed up madhouse called life killing? There are 135 events in the Old Testament that attribute men’s deaths to the acts of God. The total estimated dead in the events ranges from 2.5 million to 25 million people. The difference in the figures is keyed around, ‘men’s deaths.’ The larger number includes the estimated women and children killed in the total. No matter, the end result of this deluge of death is a world full of people who rush into buildings to break their knee caps kneeling, or their backs bowing, or bang their heads against walls to experience worship.

I think Sodom and Gomorrah’s fate and human history leads as example here: hate something, then go bomb the piss out of it and wait for the survivors to build you temples. So here’s a concrete point before I hit the pavement writing. Does dropping the ‘mother of all bombs,’ the bigly, the huge, the best and big daddy of bombs(MOAB) mean we can expect Isis, yousis, mesis or any ,’sis,’ to come around and start paying us money and respect with prayer? And the answer is?

This may not be an exact quote.

I read the bigly bomb cost $170,000 to make. We killed like 90 guys. What about using those navy seal fellas that use one hundred-dollar bullets and shoot real targets instead? Well, our soldiers cost about a half a million each to train, deliver and keep overseas. It turns out using nukes is the biggest bang for the buck warfare!

We can only hope and pray to survive, come out ahead, the winners, like soldiers on every side hope. For sure, hitting the proverbial bottom hurts. Life has no trampoline and, dang it, if it doesn’t feel like America is somehow slipping right before my eyes. Do we make sense anymore?

See? I have questions and wonder if what goes around comes around, when’s an age of reason coming back?!?!

Some of this sounds familiar…

Whoops!

Ouch! Yeah—this slip trumps them all.

Franque23


It’s fitting this first post of 2017 should be about the enriching world of children’s books. But first, here’s a picture of one of my grandson’s showing us all how to greet the New Year!15390983_10210312667325616_8515486221660551798_n

Oh yeah and Yay!

Moving on-

Written by  Scotswoman,  Helen Bannerman, and first published by Grant Richards in October 1899, Little Black Sambo is not only one of the very first books I remember being fascinated by as a kid, it did the same for children all over the world for nearly 50 years. Then, the  book attracted uproars from those who had issues with the text and pictures.

Things is, was Helen Bannerman a lifetime ahead of herself? Why do I ask? That’s simple.

It’s a simple story: a boy with fancy clothes is caught by tigers who accept his clothes in lieu of eating the boy. The lions argue over who looks better in the new clothes, chase one another around a pole to get a different piece of clothing from the other and turn into a goo during the process. The tigers run so fast they heat up and melt.**

What Bannerman is describing is energy heat transfer-a solid becoming a liquid as a result. It’s a simple but remarkable thought. Of course, the boy  bringing the goo home so his mom can make pancakes out of it rockets the book up to yummy.

Today, this story just isn’t the warm and fuzzy book it was once thought to be. Time’s change and what we need to be thinking and reading about as people changes along with it.

Moving on—

Bonus picture:

 A one day pick of lemons this past fall.

A one day pick of lemons from my yard this past fall. Two kinds-small Meyer’s, large Meyer’s and a huge Pondarosa. My daughter makes a mean lemonade.

Books will never cease to surprise us if we can only find the time to read. Here’s one I’ve recommended before that will be well worth your effort: Collector of Moments. In my head it’s the Kafkaesque of easy on up to adult books. That’s right, you’ll find this book most often shelved in the children’s Easy section-a picture book- but it reads right on up to adult.collector-of-moments-lion2-1

An illustration from the book-did this picture help inspire the Life of Pi story?

You have to see it to believe it.

A bit like a Van Allsburg book, the NYT’s reviewed this 1999 publication, Collector of Moments , by Quint Buchholz:

“The unexpected details in the pictures demand equally imaginative acts of explanation. In addition, Buchholz often shows people looking at objects behind walls or through doors or even beyond the frame of the paintings — objects that viewers can’t literally see and must therefore envisage for themselves.

As the creator of images most interesting for what they don’t in fact show, Buchholz is himself an accomplished collector of moments. Not only does his book tell young readers things worth knowing about how to look at pictures, but the pictures themselves delightfully repay the kind of attention they invite viewers to give them.”

Enjoy.

You have to see it to believe it.

You have to see it to believe it. The book is a surprise package for sure!

Cheers–Moving on to 2017-it’s all ahead of us now.

Franque 23*

*I’ve been a Library Specialist in the Alachua County Library District for the past 21 years.

Oh my!15390983_10210312667325616_8515486221660551798_n

** The version I was read had the boy and the tigers running around the tree….different takes.


It's a good time to appreciate one another.

It’s a good time to appreciate one another.

I have to say that John Lennon’s song, So This Is Christmas- War is Over, often runs  on the background hard drive of my brain during the holiday time. The promise of peace looms in my soul somewhat like those three-day work weeks my generation was told we’d live to see, and all due to technological advances that were to come.

Some promises are hard to hang on to.

Some promises are hard to hang on to.

At times things don’t work out as planned.

Today, this glob writer has much to be thankful for. I’m thankful for readers in 82 countries who have clicked in almost 6 thousand times this year to check out what’s banging thru my head on a weekly basis. I have a home, and a lake home, a beach home and rentals to boot, and all from once having hitch-hiked 30 miles to a flea market with all the wares I had to sell on my back. I could go back to even worse times in my life, but I won’t. The simple truth is I’ve been lucky to live the American dream-moving from very little to something that is more than enough. And I have good friends. My job? Being a children’s librarian is about as good as it gets, but at 67 I can actually see the switch on the light at the end of the tunnel so, with luck, I’ll retire someday too soon for me. I’ve five books written. three are on Kindle and a fourth is about to come out -if I can just let go-and that’s all a blast.

This year could go head to head with any other I've had and come out well.

This year could go head to head with any other I’ve had and come out well.

It’s difficult at times for me as an American to realize much of the world’s people don’t have enough to live. It’s easy to look away.

It’s easy to forget the Lakota and other tribes still stand in freezing temperatures hoping to stop the pipeline.

I try to envision Isis truly being stopped, or morphed into a place where negotiation is possible. I still dream of massive food airlifts like the kind America ran in WW II being broadcast throughout the middle East as a huge international peace effort. Food, not bombs. I’d rather police use tranquilizer bullets when shooting people who are running away or held upon the ground by other police. Of course, our law people need to be safe as they go about their job of helping our society function.

At this point, American politics is a mosh pit of speculation. Is a boom or bust coming? Will the next four years or so be a drat splat dump we will wish to flush away in the future, or will these coming years be an awakening of a whole new kind of world-wide détente?Is prosperity our future?

Will Americans ever see anything eye to eye.

Will Americans ever see anything eye to eye.

Some things are certain; the sand-hill Crane still fly south in the winter; migrations continue all over the world. Species extinctions are too prevalent and the sea levels are rising. Whether or not we have global warming, we all know CO2 emissions are not the way to go for the future of Mankind-so why the debate about global warming when the issue is emissions/pollution? Sometimes, I wonder-what’s up with the misdirection.

The graph reveals the human toll due to outdoor air pollution in 2008,… Of all major global health risks, outdoor air pollution in the form of fine particles is found to be dangerous for public health - contributing annually to over 2 million premature deaths worldwide. The WHO global study ranks air pollution as one of the top 10 killers in the world.

The graph reveals the human toll due to outdoor air pollution in 2008,… Of all major global health risks, outdoor air pollution in the form of fine particles is found to be dangerous for public health – contributing annually to over 2 million premature deaths worldwide. The WHO global study ranks air pollution as one of the top 10 killers in the world.

In the end for now, we did just have Christmas, and we can hope for a happy New Year. Let’s hope together that we have nothing to fear but fear itself. Let’s hope those who want to move forward in a kind, loving way that ‘s good for all species, the Earth and it’s people win the day.

One million children meditating for world peace in 2016

One million children meditating for world peace in 2016

So many of us pray for World Peace.

So many of us pray for World Peace.

Kindness, Truth, Justice and Life has to prevail. We can make it so-that’s the great part.

I looked different at 23 than I do today at 67, but I feel about the same inside, my hopes, dreams and aspirations for Mankind remain about the same. Is it the same for the Earth? Is there an ongoing, eternal hope we know little about?

23 doesn’t look like 67, but I feel about the same today inside as I did back then. My hopes, dreams and aspirations for Mankind remain about the same. Is it the same for the Earth? Is there an ongoing, eternal hope we know little about?

Peace. It's a wonderful bloom.

Peace. It’s a wonderful bloom. Let’s plant that flower.

Franque23 hopes you’ll forward this glob. Cheers

Thanks for being you.

Thanks for being you.


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.

199-2

We have such a long way to go.

109 (2).jpg

078-2

Keep the faith –

Franque23


I’m there, at that age, and I can tell you- every middle class , upper middle class and anyone below these classes needs to have the benefits of their hard-earned paychecks(investments), a pension from the jobs they have served long-term, plus social security when they age. Really, getting old is not a walk through white daisy fields-the ones we will one day push up

download-5— but a daily struggle of will and body that differs for each person who gets to ripen with age.

It's a journey-we all needs hats and safety nets.

It’s a journey-we all needs hats and safety nets.

It’s not that things fall off when you get older.

Hey look! It's not me!!!

Hey look! It’s not me!!!

Heck, in some ways at 67 I’m as strong as I ever was, maybe less distracted, more focused. The early years are swamped with wonder. The middle years filled with responsibilities, trials, tribulations, too many bills, phone calls, the ‘What the hell are my kids doing?’ moments, booze, parties, I’m  absolutely positive thoughts, mistakes and breakthroughs, couches that need to be replaced and ‘If only’s’.

It's the year of the Meme...

It’s the year of the Meme…

Welcome to the inner sanctum

Welcome to the inner sanctum

The older years are when things start to slow down though Grandchildren, if you have any, can keep things spinning but not, usually, twenty-four seven like immediate family chores. Older years give a person time to reflect, hear the birds, feel the breeze, garden,  and finally take time to sit in that rocker bought so long ago. It’s a great time to read and to forget the worry-a silent apprehension that things may not work out. Heck, if you reach the older years, things have worked out. Congrats.

You've won.....

You’ve won…..

Sure, everyone should count pennies as they go but this shouldn’t be a full-time job when you reach retirement, not unless you’re some sorta mathematics savant who loves the pastime. This is why every American should demand a pension from jobs they have held for long periods of time, and a social security check. Oh, I know, I know-owners, the ruling class, and some workers clamor on about investing  in stocks rather suffering through Social Security paycheck deductions. The thing is, I do think workers should have an investment scheme going on for their lives, but also Social Security. The stocks can wobble up or down, and sometimes down for long periods of time just when a person reaches an age when they need them to wiggle up. Social Security stands now as a constant income as should be.

The notion that Social Security should be disbanded or its funds stolen for other government programs is a trash heap of garbage that stinks for workers.

Dumping Social Security and eradicating pensions smells fishy--don't go donw that road.

Dumping Social Security and eradicating pensions smells fishy–don’t go down that road.

What a load....

What a load….

Those opposed to Social Security keep flappin' their jaws spewing crap.

Those opposed to Social Security keep flappin’ their jaws spewing crap.

Don’t buy into that premise.  Invest in stocks-go high or low risk as you like- work your ass off when you can during your life  in pension rich jobs, and demand Social Security. Do this and you’ll not only hear the birds but have time to learn their calls and name them during old age. The Life scheme as it was set for workers and running so well in the 1950’s still works.

Don’t let the politicians steal, erode or flim-flam your mind with gobbledygook.

Americans should expect and demand a Federally insured, defined benefit pension option for every job…Social Security with viable health insurance and a healthy investment market-that’s government by the people, for the people and security.

Cheers-keep up the fight. Slough off the crap and sling the truth.

 

Franque23

Diversity of incomes helps...

Diversity of incomes helps…


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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