The Counterfeit Coins of Politics

As much as I would love to have something else on my mind of late, it’s just been damned hard to avoid political opinion. I would love to say political discussions but what’s been going on for the last few months bears little resemblance to the definition of discussion or discourse. It has been nothing like the dictionary definition of those two words. Quite the contrary.

The term “freedom of speech” has become the target of a vicious and narrow minded segment of our society. That segment, however small, is of the mindset that it’s only their speech and actions that are protected by the first amendment to our constitution. Anyone who disagrees with them seems to have somehow forfeited their right to speak their minds and share their thoughts and philosophies. That notion has become so ingrained, that even otherwise intelligent and thoughtful people are mysteriously tolerant of the violence and viciousness.

I’ve seen viciousness in my life and I’ve even been the target of it. I accept that, like evil, viciousness will always exist in any population. The key question is this: Why has it become so acceptable to such a large portion of the population? Narrowmindedness used to be used to describe politically conservativeness. To my way of thinking the term can and should be applied to anyone who refuses to consider any point of view other than their own. People who, for instance, used to refuse to consider the compelling nature of sexual orientation apart from the societal norm of heterosexuality, were considered narrow minded … and they were.

The question then arises, aren’t those violent persons who attack anyone with a conservative political point of view in an effort to silence them, also refusing to consider any other point of view other than their own? Narrow minded? Absolutely!

Consider this also; There have been instances where members of the LGBT community have been physically assaulted and even murdered, but let’s get real here; they have generally been cases of a small handful of hateful bigoted individuals targeting a single individual. But, not since the 1960s has there been such hateful action taken by so many people against so many people. The difference here, of course is that the shoe is on the other foot … the so-called open minded peacenics of the past have now morphed into a violent hate filled mob … and people like our past president Obama have stood silently by. When they did speak to the issue it has always apologetically and in a voice so soft that it couldn’t be heard. That failure to speak out against the violence with the same vigor as that directed at conservatives is, in itself, a tacit approval of the violence.

In a couple of past posts I have highlighted my reasons for why I think it’s a monumental mistake for the LGBT community to blindly follow the democrat party line. (July 11, 2016 “Dirty Diapers … Oh poor me. Ain’t it awful.”) and (July 16, 2016 “I agree … To disagree!”) In addition I posted video on YouTube titled This Tranny’s for Trump” ( Text for that post is at this web site dated October 7, 2016.

My sentiments and reasons are given further credence by the president of the Log Cabin Republicans, Gregory T Angelo in an April 4, Los Angeles Times op-ed piece titled “Without Republican Support, much of the recent progress on LGBTQ rights would have been impossible.” ( In that article Angelo makes the important point that when the democrat party held the White House and both houses of congress they did practically nothing to advance or support the LGBTQ cause.

Another point to be made is this: Historically the democrat party has been the party of segregation and restricted rights for the African American community. If it hadn’t been for the Republican party, the civil rights movement and subsequent “Civil Rights Acts” would have never passed due the number of democrats who voted against it. Here’s the breakdown for the 1964 Civil Rights Act: only 63% of democrats in the house and 65% of democrats in the senate voted for the act. Compare that to 80% of Republicans in the house and 83% of Republicans in the Senate who voted for the act. The Civil Rights Act of 1965 was pretty much the same break down for Republicans but the democrat party still wasn’t along for the ride. Only 61% of house democrats voted for it and barely two thirds of the democrat senators voted for it.  A truly sad statement of fact if you ask me.

I think a comparison to the fictional “Highlander” films where in sword wielding Scots from the past magically exist in the present, is a quite appropriate comparison to the democrat party of today. Has much changed for the majority of the black community in the last 50 years? No. Why not? Because the party that has been in the majority for most of that time has put in place programs designed to “feed them a fish each day instead of really teaching them to fish for themselves.” That has guaranteed the democrats votes in perpetuity.

The willing accomplices in the press have played along, billing the Republicans as the villains who want to keep them in chains. Former Vice President Joe Biden stated that specifically in a campaign speech a few years ago. The same could be said for the democrat party attitude toward the LGBTQ community … just give us enough support to keep our community voting for them but never really doing anything concrete.

The bottom line for me is this … The democrats play directly to emotions. It’s their coin in trade. Republicans play to practicality and common sense. I will take that coin to the bank any day thank you.

Before The Blue Magnet

All the emotions aside, The Blue Magnet, our feelings for one another and the way our lives are being played out at this time has brought about changes. There are changes in the way my daily life is lived; changes in the way I budget my time; changes in the way I view the future; changes in the way we communicate. In other words, nothing is the same.

BTBM (Before The Blue Magnet) I really didn’t care much about what hours I was assigned at work as long as I could work Sunday afternoons after church. For the last 16 years I have hated Sunday afternoons … alone Now I work a straight 8:00am to 5:00pm shift, Tuesday through Saturday. I work those hours and days because I requested the change and  the management at Home Depot 469 granted the request.

BTBM I ate a hasty lunch in the lunch room and then spent the remainder of my lunch hour napping in my car. Now I dash out the door, head for my car and make a beeline for The Blue Magnet’s condo just 8 minutes away. I dash up the stairs, open the door, grab the leash, a couple of baggies, then out the door, down the stairs with Bella the dog for a not so quick stroll to let her relieve herself. Then it’s back up the stairs, for a short nap before grabbing the lunch I haven’t eaten and back to work.

BTBM I didn’t worry too much about the clock at work. I worked until I had accomplished what I felt I needed to have accomplished by the end of the day. Now, I work with one eye on the clock, impatient to get back to the condo where I will find The Blue Magnet studying and as often as not Bella waiting to go for another stroll; this time not so quick. Then most evenings during the week I head for home sometime between 8:00 and 8:30.

BTBM my television was always on and generally tuned to FOX News. Now it’s still on most of the time, but it’s usually on Phoenix Channel 3. The Blue Magnet doesn’t have cable or satellite while she is in school so that’s what she likes to watch even when she’s at Casa Standage. (That’s what she’s dubbed my townhouse)

And speaking of Casa Standage. BTBM things were a bit cluttered. After all, I had been alone for sixteen years, except for the occasional short term roommate. My “stuff” was all there, scattered about, sometimes randomly, but generally strategically placed. At least I thought it was strategically placed. The Blue Magnet frequently makes not-so-subtle alterations in the various arrangements.

For instance, … she not-so-subtly bought me a set of Pyrex food storage containers, not-so-subtly suggesting that my collection of 20+ year old tupper ware type containers had to go. And then there was the poly-whatever cutting board, also 20+ years old, that was unceremoniously replaced by a new one and taken out the back door headed for the neighborhood dumpster.

These are just a few of the not-so-subtle changes The Blue Magnet has made, and is making in my life. But the real changes she’s making are in the way I view my personal world … the way I view my “space”.

BTBM I had made few changes in the way my possessions were arranged. The TV in my bedroom was an ancient tube type that I had scrounged out of a church I had attended when it was closing down. She didn’t have to say anything or make any indication that she thought it rather obsolete. I don’t even think she had ever set foot in my bedroom at the time I decided it was time to modernize.

BTBM I had not disposed of any possessions since leaving the house in Chandler. Now I think about the likely fact that we will soon be sharing a home and realize that I can’t hang on to all the inconsequential “stuff” of my life. And that is the crux of the most daunting part of sharing a home and a life with The Blue Magnet.

For practically all of my life, it has seemed as though when I have decided that I don’t need something anymore, and either give it away or throw it away, in less time than it took to dispose of whatever it was I didn’t think I needed anymore … a need for that item appeared. Add to that fact, that as a history buff I like to keep all of my “history” intact, and the result is a whole lot of “stuff”.

I have a storage shed, 2 walk-in closets and every crack and cranny in my home filled with “stuff”. Admittedly I do realize the uselessness of much of it, but I hate, absolutely hate, the prospect of simply throwing that “stuff” away.  Anyone want a George Foreman Griller … one large and/or one small, used only once? For the first time in recent memory I actually do want to dispose of a lot of “stuff” because it means making room for something far more important to me … the “stuff” of the life of The Blue Magnet.

Thank you Professor Jimmy and Crafton Hills College

Yesterday was another amazing day at Crafton Hills College in Yucaipa California. Thanks to Professor Jimmy Urbanovich, A.K.A. Speech Teach … I was once again given the opportunity to speak at Crafton Hills College. The reception was, as it has been in the past, even more gratifying than the time before.
My experiences with the students and faculty there have continued to add support to my observations about people. The biggest complaint I have had with the LGBT community in general is that they make little effort to reach out to the rest of society to explain what it’s like to be in their shoes. Rather they tend to demand blind acceptance from society and when they meet with resistance, react with even more demands and anger. 
I have found in experiences like the one at CHC, that when I simply share my experience with people as I did yesterday, without an accompanying demand for acceptance that acceptance is the natural outcome. People tend become defensive when demands are made of them, especially when the demand is acceptance of something alien to them or something that they have been led to believe is somehow unnatural or evil.
To further advance my own perspective, I was overwhelmed by the responses I received yesterday, when after my main presentation in the auditorium we adjourned to Professor Jimmy’s classroom for some give-and-take questioning and answering.
There were the usual unenthusiastic attendees who were there simply because their attendance was a class requirement. Those individuals I always seek to find a way to draw out and challenge in a positive way. It’s part of the fun of what I do, but the real reward is from people like one young man who told me afterward that he had not wanted to come, but that a friend had challenged him to show up. This morning I had a lengthy e-mail from him explaining that I had given him a whole new, although uncertain, perspective on his own life.
One young woman, who attended the initial presentation wasn’t even a student, but chose to come to the more intimate session in the classroom even though it meant being late for work. She approached me before the session began to tell me that she would have to leave for work shortly and didn’t want me to think she didn’t want to hear anymore of what I had to say. She was still there nearly 2 hours later and was the first one ask for a picture with me.
Another student, a young man with a very athletic build shared his experience with seeing and individual in his locker room whose appearance was confusing to say the least; looked far more female than male in most respects in body but still apparently male. His concern was that the situation made him feel terribly uncomfortable, which bothered him. He asked me if that was wrong. I explained that his reaction was normal and not to be confused with disgust. He was simply experiencing a natural reaction to a new and unexpected situation. If there was something in the individuals behavior that added to the discomfort it was perfectly appropriate to avoid interacting with them.
These are just three of the reactions I received yesterday and they all point to my original statement above. Simply sharing your own story without demanding acceptance, understanding or approval is a far more acceptable way to gain acceptance, understanding or approval. It’s a far more effective approach with a far more rewarding outcome.
The discussion eventually led to “The Bathroom Issue”. On that I have some rather definite opinions which I shared and which are in line with what I stated above. I think the edict that former president Obama issued regarding transgender bathroom use was much to the same point I made in the second paragraph of this entry. There was no effort made to help people understand and furthermore, by virtue of it’s broad and general nature, it was an open invitation to abuse by individuals with less than noble intentions. And again it was made without regard to different regional moral and ethical standards which is why I personally agree with President Trump’s order to rescind the previous order on the grounds that it is a state’s prerogative issue.
My thanks, once again to Professor Jimmy and Crafton Hills College for the opportunity to share my story and views.

The Blue Magnet

For much of my life I have lived with an absurd notion. It goes like this … all the bad things, the unpleasant things, have always happened without warning. The good things that I dreamed of happening never seemed to materialize. The absurd notion that grew out of these two opposing yet symbiotic trains of thought was that since all the bad things that happened to me were things I hadn’t thought about and all the good things that I dreamed about never did come to pass, I needed to reverse the psychology. In other words, I put all the dreams and hopes out of my mind and instead spent my time thinking about all the bad things that could happen so they wouldn’t happen.

Of course, that silly notion didn’t do anything but make me unhappy. That psychological train wreck simply made me a miserable human being. Think about it. If I found myself dreaming of pleasant, happy events I immediately tried to wipe the thought away and began worrying about what evil event I needed to be thwarting by conjuring one up … so it wouldn’t happen.

Then somewhere in my early sobriety I began get the idea that maybe, just maybe, I had been wasting a whole lot of time, but trying to undo years of negative thought processing wasn’t easy, even sober. And then the worst of all unforeseen, never considered events occurred. The woman I had thought would bury me, died after more than twenty months of battling brain cancer. See, I was right. The bad stuff is always what you didn’t see coming.

That was sixteen years ago, and in the meantime, I have learned a lot … about expectations. The most important thing to know about expectations is that for the most part they are an exercise in futility.

When Marilyn died, I thought that I would immediately fall in love again, but with a few momentary exceptions, like the spur of the moment trip to Korea to see my number two, high school senior year sweetheart, nothing romantic materialized. Not infrequently people would ask me when or if I was going to start dating. To keep from appearing needy and/or desperate I generally replied that after all I was a bit of a bitter pill to swallow, which wasn’t all that far from the truth. Then I generally added that it would take someone extremely special to fall in love with me.

I remembered Aunt Helen’s advice following my divorce when she told me that I wouldn’t find the woman God intended me to spend my life with until I was content to live alone. After trying to force contentment on myself for the better part of a year I gave up. Then within moments of finding total contentment in the alone state of being, Marilyn appeared.

After she died it took some time of course but again I found myself content to be alone and to be honest, after 16 years of being alone, I wasn’t really looking for another relationship … when it happened.

There I was, minding my own business, doing what I was paid to do for Home Depot 469 when she sat down across the desk from me and announced that she was thinking about remodeling her kitchen. How did she go about getting that done? For reasons unrelated to me or my performance as a kitchen designer she ultimately went to the competition for her kitchen. But, in the meantime, she had become something of an increasingly consistent presence in my thoughts.

On hearing the message she left on my voicemail at work, telling me that she had decided to go to the competition for her kitchen, I was first dismayed, then unsettled. I was dismayed because I had already told my boss that I was closing the sale that day and then unsettled because I soon realized that there was more to it than just losing a sale. I had been looking forward to spending more time with her. Experience in similar situations over the years had proven that when a customer chooses a competitor over you, they will generally stop answering the phone. Nevertheless, as soon as I heard the message I called her. Of course, she didn’t answer.

The message I left was that I understood her decision completely and didn’t blame her for her decision, which is the same one I would have made under similar circumstances. I then asked if she would call my manager and explain why she made that decision. I had told him that she was coming in that day to make the purchase. Roughly a half hour later he sat down at my desk and told me that she had called him and explained her decision. In the interim, the reality of most likely not seeing her again was the unsettling part.

You see, I had come to look forward to our visits. I wasn’t thinking about any more than spending time with someone whose company I totally enjoyed. When I thought about her I could hear her laugh and that made me smile. I thought “I could really enjoy doing things with her; taking a trip with her, going to a show with her, watching a sunset with her. That’s all. I had no romantic notions about her at all. I just saw her as a potential best friend.

So, a couple of weeks went by. I can’t tell you why I made no attempt to contact her. Maybe it was a lingering fear that in spite of the fact that she had told my manager that I had nothing to do with her decision to go elsewhere for her new kitchen, she would reject any attempt to establish a friendship. But, after a couple of weeks of beating myself up over it, I picked up the phone … and she actually answered.

When I asked if she would like to have lunch sometime she said yes. Two weeks later we met for lunch between my church and work at 3:00. (As I sit here writing this she is on the couch next to me correcting everything I say about our early meeting.) We made future plans for coffee but some unforeseen circumstance on her end precluded that. Instead we went to Mimi’s for lunch. (Now she tells me she hated Mimi’s but because she had picked Culver’s she agreed to Mimi’s) I have absolutely no memory of what we talked about. I just remember watching her walk to her car. I asked her what her memory of our parting was and for once it was the same. Amazing!

Neither one of us remembers exactly how long it was before I asked her to dinner. She had a gift certificate to Red Robin and there was one nearer to me, so that’s where we decided to go … she insisted on driving. That, in and of itself, was a new experience for me. I don’t remember what either of us ate, but I do remember that she paid for dinner … another new experience.

She drove me home and I asked if she wanted to come in for a minute. Simple truth is I just didn’t want the evening to end. I was totally enjoying her company without a romantic notion in my head … seriously! We must have talked for at least an hour and a half before she said it was time for her to head for home. It was just a hug. A parting hug between friends. She says that I kissed her on the forehead. As the lyrics in the KISS version of The Crystals original hit from 1963 go … “And then she kissed me.”

Aside from surprise, I can’t begin to put into words the overwhelming rush of emotion I experienced at that moment. I was instantly transported from simple attraction to a world of emotions I have no memory of ever experiencing in my life. To say that I was befuddled is a mild approximation of what I felt at that moment. The simple fact is that I felt my heart being snatched away in a sense that left me feeling as though I never wanted it back.

In the past sixteen years, I have on three occasions briefly fallen in love, but nothing to compare to this. Laughter has never been a big part of my life, until now. She makes me laugh. I don’t remember ever laughing on such a consistent and joyful level in my life.

All the dreams and aspirations for my dotage years simply evaporated. The desperation that I had begun to feel about Dear Mom and Dad never being more than a vanity project, vanished without so much as an emotional whimper. God, in his infinite wisdom, placed in my life the very last person I envisioned being the answer to all my prayers. And yet, I simply cannot imagine being in love with anyone but her. She is, what I can only describe, as reverently irreverent. Everything in her life is precision, orderly disorder. What I first thought was random placement of her cherished possessions in her home is actually a very well orchestrated arrangement … which precisely describes her and her essence.

Trying to describe here what she means to my life and the feelings I have for her is terribly inadequate to the reality. Simply put, I am now and I believe for the remainder of my life, totally and completely in love with God’s perfect selection of the perfect woman for me. We have laughed over the thought that we are like the opposite ends of a bar magnet; one end north the other end south. She is a lifelong east coast democrat and I’m … well the other end of that magnet. That was the thought behind a small Christmas present I gave her; two bar magnets painted red on one end with a “G” on it, and blue on the other end with a “B” on it.

She is a very private person and not given to publicity (another aspect of our “magnet” like attraction for one another).  For that reason, I am not publicizing her name. Those of you who know me well, know who she is and that is enough. Just think of her as “The Blue Magnet!” because she is a veritable people magnet. She draws people to her wherever she goes and I’m reasonably certain that when it happens that those people will never forget the encounter. I have seen her strike up conversations with absolute strangers in the grocery store and the next thing I know she’s helping them find something they need but can’t locate.

She is, in the words of my favorite Nat King Cole song which was a duet with his daughter, Natalie “Unfortgetable” … that’s what you are.

Bishop Eric … and My Mud Hut in Africa

What I’m about to discuss you may have seen before but I’m revisiting the subject with a definite purpose in mind. In my early high school years, I began to actually examine how, what I was learning and studying in what we used to call Sunday School (don’t have a clue what they call it now) was going to affect my life. I was affected deeply enough that for a time I actually considered becoming a Congregational minister. It seemed a rather easy life to me; listening to people’s woes and complaints, then giving sage advice on how to fix their lives. Then for one hour on Sunday, wearing a black robe and telling people how God expected them to conduct their affairs.

But then somewhere along the line I was exposed to the life of a missionary in Africa and that exposure changed my entire outlook. You see, my understanding of the two roles in Christendom, that of the stateside minister and that of a missionary in deepest darkest Africa were worlds apart in more than the geographical sense. What I saw in the life of the Congregational minister was a life of relative ease. What I saw in the life of a missionary to Africa was a life of tremendous sacrifice and commitment. The effect that had on me was not one of encouragement but rather one of discouragement.

In short … I came to believe that if I really turned my life over to Christ, became totally committed to being a full-fledged Christian, that I would be relegating my future to a mud hut in Africa … and that is not what I wanted to do with my future. I wanted to be pig farmer who happened to be a Christian … most of the time. It wasn’t until I was in my third month of sobriety that I received a piece of advice that I wish I’d had years before.

When I came face-t0-face with the third step of Alcoholics Anonymous, “Made a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God, as I understood Him” my mind went back to the mud hut in Africa notion. Thankfully, a perceptive Larry B, my sponsor, did as Granny would have said, jerked a not in my tail. He said, “That takes someone exceptional to do that. And besides He (God) probably has something else in mind for you.” Nevertheless, I have remained in awe of anyone, accustomed to the luxuries people in this country take for granted, who could give it all up for the equivalent of today’s mud hut in Africa. And that finally brings me to the point of this message.

There is a man I have come to know as Bishop Eric. He has devoted his life to “The Good News” and has affected lives all over the world. He has traveled the world planting the seeds of salvation and forgiveness for most of his adult life all the while maintaining a full time “civilian” job. A year and a half ago Bishop Eric gave up that lucrative “civilian” job and moved to “a mud hut in Africa” to found The Hope Center in Nigeria.

While it’s a bit of a stretch to call where he is living and conducting the affairs of The Hope Center a mud hut in Africa, it’s not much of a stretch. The accommodations were primitive in the beginning and much of what he has accomplished has been a true labor of love. The thing you, my readers, need to realize is that in countries like Nigeria in central Africa, being gay is not generally acceptable. Many families, upon learning of their child’s sexuality will disown them, shun them and in extreme cases murder them to avoid public humiliation. So, it shouldn’t take much imagination to realize what a burden Bishop Eric has taken upon his shoulders.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, I am in total awe of the man. He embodies everything that I felt I would never have the courage or the will to be. I don’t agree with him on all things, but what I don’t agree with him on pale in comparison to the respect and admiration I have for him.

So how does he manage the day to day operations of his “mud hut in Africa”? It isn’t easy and he needs financial support desperately. His needs aren’t overwhelming by our standards, but by Nigerian standards they are mountainous. I have in my possession a copy of his monthly budget and budgets for the projects he dreams of implementing. They are next to nothing by our standards but in Nigeria they are a lot.

My purpose in sharing this is to inspire you, my readers, to consider contributing to the financial requirements and investments needed to aid Bishop Eric in his mission to give hope and a future to the people of Nigeria who are most often overlooked at best or shunned and persecuted at worst because of their emotional make up.

Check out his website at  You can donate through the web site and if you want to know more about their financial need and plans please contact me and I will send you a detailed list of monthly expenses as well as proposed improvements. You can reach me through Facebook or at .


What the Heck Just Happened

I have been silent for a while … Again!! But no longer. A week ago our nation went to the polls to elect a successor to President Obama. I went to the polls before work and cast my ballot. I didn’t hear any reports during the day but before I went I was discouraged based on what all the reports up to that time were telling me that HRC was going to be the next president.
When I arrived home I turned on the television expecting to hear that it was all over and that our country had elected its first female president. And that, to me, was a dismal and depressing thought. Not because I was against a woman for president any more than I had been against an African American for president eight years earlier. It was a dismal and depressing thought because of the character flaws I saw in Hillary Rodham Clinton, and even more dismal and depressing because so many of my fellow Americans seemed to be so oblivious to the flawed character of the woman.
Before you get carried away with a litany of flaws in Donald Trump, in particular, the accusations of sexual predator, I want to remind you that the only verifiable accusation was in the Hollywood Tonight hot mic conversation with the show’s host. And might I also remind you that the only “character” flaws in those accusations were of a nature that hardly rose to the level of HRC’s malfeasance in office and corruption that was becoming more and more evident every day.
But that isn’t my main concern here, or to my intended point. I suggest that for a real and definitive understanding of the basis for my political point of view, you start by looking at the demonstrations that have been occurring around the country since the election. I have watched the interviews of demonstrators and what I am left with is an image of ignorant and self-centered mobs of people who are the result of two-plus generations that have been educated by a largely socialistic education system. They have no clue to what our history really is.
The history (when taught) they have been fed is one of a cruel and unjust people who have acquired what they have by taking it from others. The reason the people who feed that line to poorly educated, morally void “young skulls full of mush” is due their own failure to take advantage of what has been laid before them. They have devoted their lives to telling others how they think the world should be rather than how it is. In other words, the education system in our country has been taken over by a socialistic group known as the NEA … National Education Association. The NEA is nothing more than a labor union which unfortunately has actually become the most dangerous and the most powerful labor union in our country.
Regardless of what the NEA publicizes as their goal, the result is that now two, going on three, generations of people who have been fed a steady diet of what I call “non-responsibility.” In other words, whatever happens to you in life is never your fault. It is always the fault of someone else, generally the fault of people who expect you to eventually grow up and in rather crude but to the point words … grow a set.
Parents who have actually taken stock of what their children are being fed in school are the ones who are either home schooling their children or the reason that charter schools have become so popular in large segments of our society. It’s called taking control of your own life and as Granny would have said … “use your head for something besides a hat rack!”
The American people, as a whole, are a generous and compassionate people, but their generosity and compassion has reached its limits. The education system which has taught that the government is the arbiter of where that generosity and compassion should be applied has finally been exposed for what it is … the support system of a different kind of slavery. Slavery means that one group or segment of a society controls every aspect of the lives of another for the sole benefit of the slave owners.
When our own civil war ended, hundreds of thousands of slaves were suddenly freed to live and direct their own lives. What gets overlooked is the fact that thousands of them didn’t want to leave their bondage. They had never been taught and therefore had no idea how to cope for themselves; how to take responsibility for their own lives. Again in my opinion, the demonstrators marching in the streets of our cities are the result of all those years of the NEA indoctrinating our young people to the notion that they are not responsible for their own lives, and now they are afraid that Donald Trump is going to make them assume that responsibility.
The agitators are accomplishing what they want by an age-old tactic of repeating a lie often enough that it becomes the truth. In this case, the lies are that Donald Trump is a bigot, which he isn’t; a misogynist which he isn’t; a sexist, which he definitely isn’t. What he is, is a threat to the “plantation owners” and their overseers because he is telling the slaves “we are going to free you to pursue your own futures in the manner that you decide is best for you. And, we are going to do that by providing an environment free of the restraints of the past which have kept you down on the plantation.”
Alexis de Tocqueville wrote soon after the war of independence, and I paraphrase; “The great American experiment will last until a majority of the population realizes they can vote themselves an income from the national treasury.”
That is exactly what the “Plantation owners” have convinced the general population of. Last week the rest of the population stripped the “Plantation owners” of their power by using the basis of our constitutional foundation, the electoral college, to do so.
Thankfully, our founding fathers realized the dangers of pure democracy, which is nothing more than mob rule by ballot, and created a democratic representative republic.
As a result, the people who know how to work for a living, who want to work for a living, who want to direct their own lives, who want the government to do only what it was intended to do, which is to provide the safe environment for them to do so, and the people who are tired of things the way they have become … those people have spoken.

One is silver and the other gold

I have been posting about friends recently. No particular reason that I can point to really. It’s just that friends have been on my mind a lot recently. Is it a natural progression because I am now ankle deep in my seventies? I assume that has something to do with it, but there’s more.

People who live relatively normal lives because they are born with bodies that match their gender identity are fortunate. They generally don’t know the feeling of rejection by the people in their lives due to something beyond their control. Before you go off on a rant about having control over the issue, bear this in mind; we all have control over our actions but control over emotions is a different matter. Emotions have a life of their own, and those are what cause the most grief in the life of anyone who is born with a body that doesn’t match their emotional set.

When I finally came face to face with that unorthodox set of emotions, I also came face to face with friends, and family too, who couldn’t see beyond the appearance to the spirit behind the screen. I soon found myself faced with a sorting process. Sorting out the relationships, both new and old became a painful exercise.

I have old friends that I’ve known, literally all my life. Jeanie and I were born in the same hospital room in the Texas Panhandle in 1944. Roger I’ve known since I was 4 years old. Vince and Connie since I was 9. Denny and Candy since high school. These friends are people who have stuck with me through all the chaos of redefining my person.

Family on the other hand is an entirely different story. A sad story but true. The closer the relationship, it seems, the more difficult the process of coming to grips with who I have revealed myself to be. The 2 oldest children haven’t spoken to me since the publication of Dear Mom and Dad; each for their own reasons; misguided as I deem those reasons to be. One first cousin is understanding and accepting the other 2 have pretty much disapproved. My only brother and only sister have more or less, followed the lead of the 2 disapproving cousins. Again, each for their own reasons. So, what am I left with?

Friends! At the close of my last blog I quoted a little ditty that we used to sing at camp. “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver the other gold.” If I could convert all the silver and gold I have in friendships to hard currency I could retire and live comfortably for the rest of my life. The older I get the more precious that currency becomes, and it is never more evident than when I lose one of those gold coins like I did earlier this week.

I spoke of Daryll in a Facebook entry earlier this week. Tuesday morning, last week I awoke and reached for my phone, still pretty much in a stupor, to check the time. I inadvertently dialed his number. When I realized what I’d done I immediately canceled the call. Within a minute he called me back.
We hadn’t spoken in months. I hadn’t bugged him because I assumed he was getting on with life and building his fabricating business. Over the course of our 10-year friendship, Daryll had bailed me out of trouble, mostly vehicle trouble any number of times, always coming to my rescue with a tow or a battery or tires. He even set up an online parts business for me to run at one point.

We talked for the better part of a half hour and through the conversation I learned that his health wasn’t the best; that the Arizona heat was beginning to wear him down. He talked about closing up shop here and moving to Boise Idaho next year. But, I didn’t realize how bad his condition was until first thing in the morning, the day before yesterday, when once again my phone rang and it was his name on the caller id. But it wasn’t him. It was his wife.

“Georgia, it’s Vonda. Daryll passed away on Sunday. I need your help.”

It was like a bugler blowing reveille 6 inches from my ear. Death or the reality of impending death never comes gently to any door. That is a hard reality for anyone, especially for me to face. Up to the time Marilyn died, I had never, not one single time, lost anyone close to me. Daryll was not what I would classify as close, though we shared things that few understand. But he was a solid 24 carat gold friend and his death has shaken me to the core.

His death has brought home to me the very fragile nature of life and how easily it can be shattered. It’s only been a few weeks since a member of our church family suddenly and unexplainably lost her 12-year-old son. He just became ill and died one day.

These circumstances always remind us of that fact, but how often do we awake each morning and treat everyone in our sphere with the tenderness that we would if we knew that would be the last time we would ever be together? From my own experience, I would surmise that the answer to that question would be … never. But it should be “every time” shouldn’t it?

Who is sitting next to you right this minute, on the phone with you, right this minute, that you have given the slightest thought to the possibility that it might be the very last time? Would you be saying, thinking, feeling what you are at this moment if you knew it was the last moment?

At this point in history, the radio and television ads for precious metals and the importance possessing them are as numerous as the ads for beer, maybe more numerous. So how about the next time you see or hear one of those ads, why don’t you give some thought to the silver and gold people in your life and what you need to do to make sure they know that they are safe in your heart? And, never take their presence for granted.

Christine …

There have been, in my past, and I suppose will be in my future, moments, events, things, happenings if you will, that go on my list of things to ask Abba when I am at last face to face with him. One of those “things” is going to be, “What were you thinking on April, 14th 2007 when you woke me from an evening nap and suggested I go to the Cash Inn in Phoenix?

You see, what awaited me there was an introduction to someone I would have never in a million, no make that a billion years, have expected God to place in my life. She snuck up on me so to speak. Two friends invited me to join them at their table, which I did and we went through the usual “How you been? What’s up in your life?” banter. I don’t remember how many minutes passed that way but it couldn’t have been many. There was a tap on my left shoulder and when I turned to see who it was, thinking it must be another friend, I found myself looking into the green eyes of an adorable little blonde who asked, “And who are you?” And thus, it began.

As the evening progressed, the world shrunk to that small area the two of us, Christine Curtin and Georgia, occupied there next to the dance floor. Other than the Saturday nights when I would later be employed there at the Cash Inn, I have never stayed till closing … except that night. Several weeks later, the friend she had accompanied to the bar that night, told me that she thought she thought she was going to have to pry us apart when the bar closed. Needless to say, we exchanged phone numbers and promises to connect the next day.

At that moment, I was head over heels in love with whom I have come to refer to as “the little green-eyed blonde.” As it turned out that wasn’t the relationship which developed. I can say with clarity that what we have now didn’t develop overnight. It has taken most of the intervening nine years for that to happen.

In that time, we’ve learned a great deal about each other and we have gone through a period of drought in our relationship. In other words, we ceased communicating for nearly nine months over a misunderstanding that should have never occurred … but it did.

I’ve learned that, first and foremost, Christine is a loving, caring woman who puts family first then friends. She is a tough business woman who has built a thriving business virtually on her own. She hasn’t been without her own personal challenges. Her own battle with alcohol is one that she turned to for help when it had taken its final toll on her life. She is an overcomer if I ever knew one, and though it took a few starts and stops she has overcome the one thing that had the potential to bring her down.

She has done more to support me in my effort to promote “Dear Mom and Dad” than anyone else and for that support I am eternally grateful. That’s not the only support either. Thanksgiving weekend of 2007, I asked her if I ever made the decision to transition fully, would it make any difference in our relationship? Her response not only, “Of course not.” And then she added that if I made that decision she would go with wherever I needed to go and hold my hand for as long as I needed her. Nearly two years ago now, when I called and asked it the promise was still good, her response was simply, “Of course. When and where?”

I still don’t have a clue why God put this Little green-eyed blonde “atheist” in my life, considering what the difference in our spiritual lives is, but the fact is that she is here, and I believe she always will be. If I have learned nothing else from her it’s this: You don’t have to have a Christian belief to have a Christian heart.

I love you Christine Curtin. You are a friend I will always cherish. When I was a child I learned a little sing-song verse that goes like this: “Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold.” You began as silver but have become solid 24 carat gold.

YouTube video text “Why This “Tranny” is voting for Trump

I am Georgia Lee McGowen, Author, Designer and otherwise Jacqueline of all trades.

I am normal and I’m not what you might think of as normal.

I am a registered Republican … I’m an extremely conservative registered Republican.

I’m an extremely conservative registered Republican Christian.

I’m not supposed to be a registered Republican or an extremely conservative registered Republican Christian because of the part of me you might not think of as normal.

You see, I am also what the world labels a transsexual. In other words, I was born George but now I’m Georgia. That is supposed mean that I am a progressive liberal Democrat like the majority of the LGBT … Q community. But I’m not.

Why not?

Reason #1. I believe that government should be limited to providing a standing army to protect us from foreign entities that would seek to harm us. Beyond that, facilitating, not providing, means of communication and mobility should be the extent of our government. If that makes me sound like a libertarian … so be it, but I’m still a registered Republican.

Reason #2. The basis for the democrat party is a belief that only an all-powerful government is capable of making intelligent decisions affecting my life; that whatever wealth I should be able to accumulate in my lifetime through my own efforts or those of my family predecessors, is not mine to distribute as I see fit, but rather for an all-powerful Washington to use to buy votes.

Reason #3. I do not see the welfare and social programs of government, supported and advanced by the Democrat party, as having a Christian element. Christ didn’t say that we should give unto Caesar so that Caesar could distribute the wealth and care for the poor. It’s my opinion that Christians who support government expansion and welfare are doing so to absolve themselves of the responsibility placed on us by Christ, to aid the poor from our personal resources, which by the way, would be more than plentiful if we were only taxed to the extent outlined in Reason#1. From my Christian viewpoint I see government welfare as a way of forcing everyone to be Christian generous. And I don’t see Christ in that proposition at all.

Reason #4. Although I am not happy with a whole boat load of politicians who claim to be Republican (Rush calls them RINOs, Republicans In Name Only) I am pragmatic enough to realize that they are generally more inclined to support my view of the way things should be done than the views of the Democrat party. And further more I believe that with a real leader in the white house, RINOs are wishy washy enough to do what he wants, if for no other reason that self-preservation.

Those are my primary reasons for adhering to the Republican premise of restricted government. In closing, I want to address those “principled” conservatives who claim to stand on principle when they not only refuse to endorse or support our party’s nominee, they are downright mean and nasty about him. You know who you are, Lindsay Graham, Glenn Beck, Bush 41, Bush 43, Bush who wanted to be Bush 45, Mitt Romney, John Kasick … Go ahead and put your self-centered, egotistical principles ahead of your country’s future. Principles like that are not principles at all. They’re temper tantrums disguised as principles. Principles in this case means putting the national wellbeing ahead of your own petty notions of so called principles.

Donald Trump wasn’t my first choice either, and I chastised him publicly on Facebook for his temperamental and boorish behavior during the debates, but there is something far more important at stake in our country than my personal preferences. Our nations survival is literally at stake here. We didn’t go from an economic powerhouse with a military feared by the entire world which made it possible for us to go about our lives in sure safety, to the laughing stock of the world overnight. It has taken years of wrongheaded politicians, mostly democrats, but some republicans as well, voting the easy path to get us where we are today.

Mr. Trump isn’t a savior … but he is a safety brake on our national downhill plunge. He is the only thing between a free nation of laws and a nation of whimsical supreme court justice appointees who make decisions based on personal ideologies, while ignoring the very intent of our founders when they established our constitutional rights. For that one reason alone we cannot afford 4 to 8 years of Hillary Clinton. No nation is any stronger than the foundation on which it is built.

The foundation of our country is our constitution. The supreme court is the final arbiter of disagreements between parties, and the intent of our founders was that the outcome of those disagreements would be decided by 9 people, based on the facts, in light of the intent of the constitution as it pertained the disagreement. Decisions based on the personal preferences as to what a judge thinks the constitution should say or mean are destructive to the very fabric of our founding document.

I am not a genius. I am a person who relies on common sense applied to the right and wrong judgement of choices which I’m faced with each and every day. My common sense tells me that our nation is at a crossroads and the choice we as a people make next month will determine whether or not I, and others like me, will continue to have the freedom to live our lives as we feel God intended us to live them.

I have found most conservative Christians willing to listen when I explain the issues involved in leading my life the way I do. Progressive liberals on the other hand generally shut me down when the subject of politics comes up. Progressive liberalism though it tends to defend my community now, has no moral compass that assures me it will defend us in the future.

And … if Trump doesn’t work out, we can always revert to the slippery slope of progressive liberalism next election.

As I said in the beginning … “I’m not supposed to be a registered Republican … I’m not supposed to be an extremely conservative registered Republican Christian.” … But I am. And I’m voting for Mr. Trump.