As I’m sitting here writing, I am watching “A Charlie Brown Christmas” and this is bringing a blizzard of memories back to me of winters and Christmases growing up in my beautiful small village of Wilson, New York. So you can turn back now, or follow me back a few years. Quite a few years. I can’t be precise on the actual years. Let’s just say early 70’s. Being born in 1965, my memories most likely didn’t start to form that early.
We lived at the end of Lake Street, about a stone’s throw to Lake Ontario. Wilson was, and mostly still is, a quiet and peaceful town. At least I like to think it is. I was lucky enough to live next door to my best buddy growing up. This provided many opportunities for outdoor fun, and some outdoor trouble making. I’ll explain later.
I. Outside
I can remember playing outside on snowy days, and snow drifts that had formed around and near our houses. We had no video games or laptops, or cable tv to keep us inside. Our imaginations were able to thrive. Going outside meant boots, snowsuits, scarves, mittens (snowmobile mittens were best, even though I’ve never ridden on one, and a knit cap, which was usually a Bills with a tassel and you could pull out a face mask that was part of it. I loved that cap.
We would find a large drift and begin to dig out a cave. Back then, we never worried about cave ins or any danger. It was fun to be able to crawl into the hole we dug, and escape the cold and wind, and feel like eskimos. At night it was especially cool. It was so quiet, except for the howling wind, and the air was so frigid, and smelled so fresh. You felt like the world belonged to you. Even just for the couple of hours you were able to stay out. We never thought about wanting to go back inside. We would have stayed out a lot longer. But we knew the drifts would be there the next day.
We would build snowmen, and next door, my buddy had a small hill, small, in his front yard, but we’d still manage to sled down it. Not a wild ride by any means. If we were lucky, my dad would take us to the country club we belonged to, where my parents golfed, but I had yet to start playing. I’m not sure we were supposed to, but there were massive hills that supplied much more excitement and thrills. It only really sucked climbing back up to go down again.
One thing that arose out of snowy days, was snowballs. And how if you could aim and throw, you could try to hit a car driving by, from a fairly good distance. And since my buddy’s dad was at work, we could hide near his front door, take aim and fire, and when we had a hit, run inside and hide, as sometimes the victim would come back and ring the doorbell. We were not thinking of the dangers that throwing snowballs could bring, which you can understand once you become a driver yourself. One day, we hit a car and when I got home, my father was angry, because we had hit the insurance salesman that had an office in the town, and was married to a teacher, and almost everyone knew my family, so a call had been made. So another friend and myself had to walk uptown, not ten miles uphill to and from, but a nice little walk just the same, and go to his office to apologize. He was very kind about it, let’s just say, I never threw another snowball. At cars anyway.
II. Christmases
There a so many memories of different Christmases. One thing I was horrible at, was snooping. We had lists, and I needed to see that my list had been followed. I’m not proud of it, but hey, I was like 7 or 8, maybe nine or ten. Every year my folks would try to find another hiding spot. Either they caught on, or it just turned out that way. I usually found them. Trunk of the car one year. I went outside, on a dark snowy night, while my parents and their friends had their usual Saturday night bridge game. I mean, it sucked because I was ruining the surprise, but at the same time, I was excited to know. Besides, they always had a couple surprises for us that were bigger, and we weren’t expecting.
I was also bad at sneaking a peak at wrapped presents under the tree, by carefully undoing tape and opening the paper just enough to see, and I’d catch a glimpse of my Steve Austin Bionic Man figure. Again not proud. Still happy.
We would always go to Christmas Eve service at the Methodist church, and I loved the lights and Christmas tree by the altar, and listening to the choir singing Christmas songs and hearing the nativity story. We would go home and have egg nog and homemade Christmas cookies. Usually watch some kind of Christmas show. Christmas Day would be watching “White Christmas” and acting out the songs. Then off to bed, and trying to sleep as long as we could. One year, it was 3:30 am! My dad said the following year, we couldn’t get up until our dog Sheba, barked to go out. Which was usually around 7. That year, she barked at 5! lol. We had to wait in dining room until my dad went in living room to turn on the tree.
My mom always made prime rib for Christmas, and the aroma stayed in the air all day. So good. Some of my favorite presents were, electronic football game, you know the one where all the players vibrated and spun in circles. A classic Bills helmet with the red standing Buffalo. Six Million Dollar man figure. Big Jim and his sports camper. Basketball hoop for the garage. Bike. Springsteen’s “The River” album, Planet of the Apes figure. So many to try and remember. I know I’ve told this story, but I don’t care. One year I wanted a wolfman doll like Eddie Munster had. Real bad. I know my folks tried. But this was before the internet and Google. That morning, there was a note from “Santa”. It said, “Dear Edward, I really tried to get you the wolfman doll, but every time my elves tried to make it, it kept waking up and eating them!” That was my dad for you.
One of the reasons I enjoy “A Christmas Story” is even though it takes place long ago, it really feels like it’s for me around that time. Very much like how it was at our house.
III. TV specials
Finally, Christmas meant television specials. “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, “The Grinch” (only the original cartoon version for me), Rudolph, Santa Claus Is coming to Town, Frosty, Little Drummer Boy. The commercial with Santa gliding over the snow in a Gillette shaver top. We’d also watch my sister’s favorite movie, The Waltons:The Homecoming.
These memories stay with me and I love to remember them this time of year. I miss my dad, and it feels good to revisit them.
So if you stayed and read through all of this, I thank you
I love listening to my music. MY music. I’ve been called close minded by some, for my lack of current artist inclusion. Don’t get me wrong. There are a very “few” newer artists that I like okay. Just about anything Dave Grohl does is pretty good. Is he considered new anymore? Now let me just say that I respect all genres of music and anybody who listens to whatever genre they dig. I do not like certain genres. I will not open myself up to these. I like what I like and I don’t like what I don’t like. Some say that’s sad, but I don’t care.
The thing is, I like to listen to songs I KNOW I like. Songs I’ve probably heard a million times before, by bands I’ve heard a million times before. The thing is, all these songs and bands tend to correlate to times in my life. I like hearing the stuff I like. If I’m not going out of my way listening to “new” stuff, it’s because I personally don’t think that most of the new stuff is better than the old stuff. Yes, I can dig on Taylor Swift’s new stuff. I happen to think she’s a musical genius. Seriously.
Now, my music takes me back and holds certain memories and that’s part of why I like old stuff. My 70s playlist makes me think of being younger, at home, in my room listening to a transistor radio and hearing these songs for the first time, my dad is still alive and I’m in my somewhat cozy bedroom, with Star Wars posters and Farrah Fawcett in a red swimsuit on my closet doors. And yes, her nipples had a little something to do with it. Sorry not sorry.
My 80s playlist is high school and college. Hanging with my friends at Niagara University, skipping class, rehearsals, drinking a lot at the Rat, our college bar. Listening to Genesis “Genesis” on cassette tape, while parked on Dietz Road, blowing off History class freshman year because I was still having trouble adjusting to not being in high school anymore. Almost failed, but thanks to my old history teacher from high school, Mr. Frieri, he tutored me and I passed. Songs that played nights out in Niagara Falls at The Library nightclub, or dance class early mornings downtown. First loves, first heart breaks, first, well, you can probably guess. I was a late bloomer. Sue me.
90s is where I started adulting. Marriage for first time, moving to Virginia Beach to teach, and learning about priorities and making mistakes along the way, mostly with credit cards, or as I like to call them, the Devil’s plastic.
I will occasionally add a new song to my music library if I like it, but most of my time is spent in the 70s, 80s, and with Billy Joel, Van Halen, The Beatles, 60s, Styx, The Hip, etc.
Call me a close minded golden oldie classic rock nerd. I don’t care. It’s what I like. It makes me happy, and isn’t that what music is for? Why should I force myself to listen to shit I don’t like just to be “hip” or “with it”? The answer is I don’t. You can try to turn me on to something new, and maybe I’ll like it. But don’t bust on me for liking the classics. And it’s true. They really don’t make ‘em like they used to.
Well, it's been awhile since my last post. Not much of a blogger with a new post in many many months. Life happens, and with various side projects and endeavors, it has not been easy to sit and write.
To get to the point, I know I am not in the minority when it comes to the divisiveness of the current "president". I put that title in quotes, because he is far from presidential in my opinion, and I still do not support Trump in any way, shape, or form. He has done nothing to better our lives or the state of our country, and is the most narcissistic person I think I've ever seen.
It is not easy to have this opinion when I have friends and family members that voted for, and still vehemently support this "man." I try to stick to only social media posts that are in my comfort zone, as it relates to an anti-Trump sentiment. There are many. Every once in awhile I find myself drawn in to a post that begins that Bruce Banner to the Hulk transformation. And yes, I should know better and just keep scrolling. Especially when I know that it will only end in a no win scenario (much like a certain ride in Disney World that I'd just soon forget). I know my limitations and I should stick to them. But it's not easy.
I'm told over and over again, that I am wrong for letting my hate of Trump cross over to his supporters, including family members, etc. That "not all people who support Trump are bad, and they should not be lumped into a categorized group. Also, that he is "temporary" and I should just chill and let it go, and wait it out and it will change again, as it always does. I'm basically laughed at as being foolish, or ignorant, or non-inclusive and divisive myself. Well, it's not easy when the things that are reported every day, clear as day on video most times, is still considered "fake news" by his supporters, including people I am close to. There has NEVER really been a time where his words and actions that are considered poor, are ever looked down upon. Maybe the occasional "I don't like everything he says and does," but it usually ends with "better than the 8 years of hell I had to deal with," or "still better than Hillary."
I know that he will be gone someday, hopefully, even though he says his supporters want him to lead for eternity. Again, something I know would never happen. The military would go in and drag him out if they had to. But I digress. It's so hard to feel anything different than I do. Imagine going outside on a beautiful sunny day, and having your neighbor complaining about it raining and holding an umbrella, determined that it's raining. It would be beyond frustrating. That's how it feels now. People trying to preach to me. Telling me to get over it. I'm wrong to be so angry. Maybe they're right? I don't know. This man is so obviously a terrible president, probably the worst in our history. I guess if you're wealthy or a racist or bigot, you don't think so. That's where my road divides. But i guess I need to look at it another way.
On the television show The Walking Dead, there is a group of survivors that was led by a former sheriff's deputy, Rick Grimes. Since his group came together, they had been fighting together, and working toward a goal of being able to restore some sort of normalcy back to living, and even though they had to do bad things at times, like kill, it was always for the safety of the group and the propagation of that dream. The along comes another group, led by a man named Negan. He was brutal and killed to get his way, and even killed two of Rick's friends to prove it. Well, after trying to live under Negan's rule to keep his group alive and safe, it became evident to Rick that they needed to get rid of the other group and survive the way they had been doing up to this point (Don't worry, I will make my point here). So after a huge war, Rick's group won, and instead of killing Negan, the3y imprisoned him so his group could see they were going to survive without fighting. Join up. Work together.
Well, Rick ends up "dying" and his partner Michonne takes over. Negan has befriended Rick's daughter, and seems to be realizing that he was not doing the things he should have been. But again, he thought he was doing the right thing for his group, the same way Rick thought the same for his group. Now there is a new group that's seems to be even worse than Negan's, and after years of being locked up, is sought out for advice by Michonne on how to deal with this new "evil" enemy.
The conversation goes:
Negan: So you cut through their territory. Ballsy. Michonne: We didn't even know if they were there. Point is we came came together. Negan: Common enemy. Common goal. Michonne: Facing great evil brings everyone together. Negan: Same thing. No-one ever thinks that they're the evil one.
I guess that I will try to look at this whole divided opinion thing like that last line.
Anyway, thank you for putting up with the rather long-windedness of this point.
I'll just leave it at that. you can feel any way you please.
I purposely used the misspelled "RAGRETS" from the movie, "We're The Millers" has a humorous opening. There are so many quotes about regret.
In the end, we only regret the chances we didn't take.
No amount of regret can change the past. No amount of anxiety can change the future.
My personal favorite: I don't believe in the word REGRET. I believe in the phrase; YOU FUCKED UP AND NOW YOU LEARN FROM IT.
Learning. That's the key. When your small, you are bound to do shit that now would seem crazy. Like lighting a roll of toilet paper on fire and quickly blowing it out. Hopefully. Or how about lighting the bottoms of the curtains in your parents bedroom? Both me! And believe me, you cannot flush burnt pieces of curtain down the toilet. That shit will be found out. And then you have an angry mother busting into bath time threatening to light a match under your ass. Not fun. Grounded. Did it stop me? Yeah. For a bit. Then my buddy next door and I thought we could have a campfire in the small woods behind our house.In the summer. Dry grass, weeds, tree limbs, etc. You can ask my now brother -in-law about jumping off the ladder from painting my parents' house and running with buckets out to the field. Luckily, parents not home, no fire department called, and cool sister's boyfriend. THAT pretty much did it. Done. Fin. Learned my lesson. But it took a bit. Thankfully before something really bad happened. These are the pearls I mean to impart when I tell these stories to our kids. So they will think of these when they are maybe holding a lighter or match and are curious. They will stop and think. Maybe. Who knows. It may have to be a lesson they have to learn on their own. Hopefully not at someone else's expense.
When you're very young you don't stop and think. You think that happens when you're older. Nope. Still happens. If you haven't figured it out by now, I am going through regrets I have. Kind of like confession, just without the priest.
You get older, but not necessarily wiser. Eventually, theft becomes a thrill you have to try. A little older, but not yet wiser. Like wanting the latest Spiderman comic, or drawings of Buffalo Sabres players (French Connection) that are for sale in the local market down the street. Wilson peeps, you know what our main market was/is. So, tuck them under a jean jacket or shirt, and there you go. There were no big surveillance cameras or store detectives. Just two checkout lanes, and straight to the door. So pretty cool. I got a couple things I really wanted, didn't have to ask the folks or nothing. Now I admit it felt great at first. But then I started feeling bad. Guilty. So one night, I asked my dad to come in my room at bedtime, and I told him. He was fairly cool about it. Asked if I learned my lesson. I asked him if I had to go to the market and give myself up.
He shook his head and told me he would send an anonymous letter with payment for the comic and pictures. He told them that I had felt bad and he was paying for them. Which he did. I felt better. I learned, right? Nope. It would take something a little more serious to affect that change. Doesn't that suck? You escape certain death and decide, "Let's up the ante."
So, we are in downtown Lockport, having a bite at The Royal, milkshakes, etc.
We decide to walk around some of the shops at the time, and I head straight for store with comic books and trading cards, my passion at the time. I see a Superman paperback comic that I feel I must have. I carefully slide it up under my jacket and I'm getting ready to leave. The woman behind the cash register stops me. She walks over, and slowly unzips my jacket. I must have turned deadly pale. She asked where my parents were, and I told her they were at another store. She told me to never come in there again. And I didn't. Got queasy anytime we drove past it after that. Now I learned. I've told that story many times to try and drive home the point about stealing and possible consequences. Now I won't say that there have been a couple of instances walking out of Wegmans and they've forgotten to charge me for something at the bottom of my cart that wasn't noticed. Now with the fancy scanners down there, it doesn't happen. I like to think that I played a small part in that technology being utilized now.
Getting a little more older now. Please keep reading. This will be a bit. But c'mon, it's a little interesting, isn't it? So now we have the desire to throw snowballs at cars. My buddy next door and I decided that it would be fun. And it was. I'm not thinking. The sound of a snowball connecting to the side of a moving car was glorious. We would throw, hit the target, and run inside his house and hide, especially when the car would turn around and pull in his driveway. It was exhilarating. But it wasn't until we hit the local insurance agent's car, who called my dad (small town where everybody pretty much knows everybody), and I was made to walk downtown, with my other buddy, who happened to be a girl that we unfortunately dragged into our devious game, and apologize face to face. I still get a little hell for that from his wife, who happened to be one of my teachers later on. Lesson learned. No more snowballls. They can really cause damage or scare someone into an accident. Bad news.
I'm not going to list every single thing. So take it easy. Now I am at an age where drinking starts coming into play. It's inevitable in high school that this temptation will present itself. We've told our kids this too. We just hope that they remember stories we tell and they can make the right decision at the time. There were occasions where I drank in high school. Float making parties, class trips, or parents out of town parties. I rode my bike home a little wobbly a couple times. But I never drove with anybody that was wasted. There were some fatal accidents in high school we lost people. We tell our kids all the time, that if they ever find themselves drunk at a party or needing a ride, that they need to call us. Whatever time. No questions, no yelling. There will be a discussion the next day, but they can trust us. Rather be woken up at 2 a.m. by my kid needing a ride, than the doorbell ringing with an officer telling me they're dead. Not sure if my parents would have felt quite the same. Not wanting us dead, but being very pissed off with the circumstances.
Now there were times in college, and later in life, where I did get behind the wheel after drinking. Once in freshman year when I went out with high school friends in Lockport, and drove them home, dropped them all off, window open and pulling into the driveway not knowing how I got there. Not cool. At all. A couple times as an adult, but alcohol soon stopped being a priority. Too many times wasted, puking, and feeling like shit took its toll. I will still have a beer or wine every once in a great while, but those days are done. And if I find myself tipsy, I'm usually not going anywhere.
Next up? Credit cards. The Devil's plastic money. I was talked into getting my first one by my best friend, who shall remain nameless. First of all, there is a difference between having one with a good job and a not so great job. I was the latter, but I found out how awesome it was to go buy shit without having money, and just paying a minimum once a month. How cool. I could buy a pair of speakers at Silo (remember that store?) for $200 and only pay $15 a month. Not knowing of course, that if I MADE the payments to pay it off, it would end up costing me twice that. Sucker! But I kept acquiring more. It was easy. But I never learned, just racked up more and more, until finally it became overwhelming. This built up through my first marriage, and after finally paying them off through Consumer Credit Counseling, I was done. Yeah. For a bit. Then more shit would come up and I needed things, until once again. BAM! I do regret not being aware in the beginning, but you know what? THAT is the type of shit they should be worrying about teaching in school. Not this stupid Common Core. Don't get me started. I know I have teacher friends out there that will try to defend, but don't try now. That's like being a Trump supporter and trying to turn me. Ain't going to happen. Gotten better with credit anyway.
Relationships are another. I regret not knowing enough early on about relationships. In high school, it's very rare to be "boyfriend and girlfriend" and know what the hell you're doing. It's either holding hands in the hallway, making out at a school dance or football game. Maybe a party when the lights get turned off. Sex if you're lucky, but isn't that all most of it is? I was not a fortunate one to have that pleasure. Not many girlfriends. But inexperienced enough to screw them up. I know enough know, but don't have the luxury of having a Delorean time machine. I was in college before I finally started trying to have more adult relationships. I had a chance with a girl in high school from a neighboring school. She was pretty. And sexy. And totally not someone I would think would like me. My confidence has never been all that great. Anyway, she really liked me, I was intimidated sexually. Inexperienced. So I ran. Stupid. I had one more shot with her when I was a senior in college, but fucked that up too. I was crazy about another girl from college, and my thinking was clouded. She ended up breaking up with me, story of my life, and I was a mess. There was another girl that I was also fond of, but my dysfunctional history with girls made me treat her not too great, and I played upon her fondness for me. I was a dick. I have since apologized to her, and have worked toward establishing a decent friendship. I can only hope she forgives me.
I went through some better relationships after, and eventually met my first wife. We were inseparable for awhile, with a lot of driving from Wilson to South Buffalo. We eventually married and moved to Virginia Beach because of my first teaching job. It was tough. Homesickness. Anxiety. Not all bad. But eventually moved back and started to try and find work and a different life. I don't regret marrying her. It seemed right at the time. We had a beautiful daughter together, so I will never regret my first marriage. I do regret not sensing that we had grown apart, and were good as friends and roommates, but not so much husband and wife. I was afraid of a life alone or separated and our daughter to worry about. I met someone, and she met someone. We separated amicably and are still friends and co-parent together fairly well.
Still with me? Okay. I have regrets about job choices I made. I have never really settled on any one thing. I taught. I did enjoy that. Especially at St. Peters School in Lewiston, NY. It was wonderful. The students and teachers. I was happy. Low low pay, but I was happy. I enjoyed working for DaVita Dialysis, and unfortunately was laid off after working as a Training Coordinator and having to travel occasionally to Boston, or New York, Philadelphia, and Nashville for a convention. Even Las Vegas. It was good money. I've never seen that salary again. I regret not having the confidence or drive to look for something better. I am happy where I work now, at Roswell Park, but I need to find something that will pay me more money. My wife has been making a very good salary since we've been together, and I need to be able to contribute more. And I should work at something more to my abilities. I regret letting her down in that respect. She deserves a little of the weight taken off. I will NEVER regret marrying her though.
I don't know. That might just about do it. Although there are really only two major regrets left that still haunt me. The first is the day my mother and I had an argument and I left. I was supposed to golf with my father that night. I didn't go because I was afraid he'd yell at me and make me go home. That was the last time we played in a league together and I never got that opportunity again. I punished him for something I did. It was a messed up situation. I was finally able to confess how sorry I was when he was in the hospital for the last time. Not sure if he understood, but I only hope he did. The last is a tough one. My dad was in the hospital and had decided to let himself go. He didn't want anything done to keep him going. The doctors gave him about a week. I didn't visit him since the day I saw him and told him about how sorry I was about golfing, etc. I knew he was mostly out of it. Eyes closed, laying there, not able to talk anymore. I didn't want to see him like that. I had Cordelia call him and my sister put the phone to his ear so she could say hello and goodbye and I love you. Two days later, he was gone. It is a regret, but I live with it and the choice I made.
So people, regrets are a fact of life. You either live with them, or try to forget about them, or learn from them. We are all human. Nobody is perfect. I am not spiritual. I am Agnostic, and I don't find comfort from a God. I guess I find comfort in the learning that I received and the strength I find within myself. I hope that I am able to continue to live my life as regret free as possible, but still knowing that I am bound to make more mistakes before my time on this planet is done.
Thank you for listening. Feel free to comment. Peace and love to you all.
Sitting here, this freezing Friday night, I am thinking back to the days of my youth when Friday nights usually meant a sleepover at my buddy Dave's house, which was next door to mine. A quick jaunt out my front door, a turn to the right. and in a matter of seconds, I was at his front door. It was always fun, because his house was different than mine, and like most kids, I think there was always a jealousy that existed when you visited a friend's house and noticed how it was different than yours and had different features and rooms, and what kind of basement was there and what other things did they have that I didn't.
Dave's house had a central vacuum system, which was cool. I had never seen one of those. There was an upstairs, and a family room that was downstairs from the kitchen. The basement wasn't finished or anything, but was clean and had a pool table (which we also had) but it was smaller and we were able to hang blankets off the sides and make a fort. We would crawl underneath and hang football cards around the inside, and thinking of some of them now, we were probably taping a fortune up there, but back then, what kid thought about that? It was fun, safe, and our hanging place. There was a record player down there with a collection of old records filled with old songs. "Shoo Fly Pie" and "I Don't Want Her, You Can Have Her, She's Too Fat For Me" not really PC, but again, nobody thought about that and these were old songs. Just like the original Kenner Star Wars figures. Had them all. Dave and I would play with them and do all sorts of things. Back when imaginary play ruled the day, and video games were a far off dream. Unless Pong counts.
Then, we would settle upstairs on the pull out couch and get ready to stay up for Friday Fright Night on Channel 7. Could be "The Wolfman" or "The Mummy" and maybe "Dracula" or "Frankenstein." All the classic Universal monsters.
It just didn't get any better. Simple. Innocent fun.
There was occasional mischief, but nothing harmful. Just boy stuff. Now there's new types of "boy stuff" and technology has affected that. But memories exist in the hard drive that is our brain, the greatest processor we have. All I have to do is Google my memories. While my operating system still works.
Okay. I try to remain silent on social media as far as politics go. Mostly "presidential" politics. During the election, I had my fair share of arguments. Friends AND family. I was a supporter of Hillary Clinton. And although she was not crystal clear, I felt compared to anybody the Republicans put up to run, Trump especially, she was superior. Oh there were the "emails" and the "Benghazi" scandals, both of which nothing was found and after millions spent. But I continued to hear how it was rigged and she was guilty, all the possible corroborators ended up dead, etc.
But it didn't take a genius to know what Donald Trump was all about. Hateful rhetoric, bigoted statements, insults, inciting violence against this who opposed him at his rallies. This is all documented. No fake news here. Look. I can understand his appeal. Regular Joe, albeit a RICH Regular Joe, who was going to take on all those phony politicians in Washington and get rid of rich lobbyists, aka "The Swamp".
Okay. He gets elected. Then he starts tweeting. And lying. Things that can be proven. A scandal involving Russia. Possibly working to get him elected. Treasonous if true. He's nominating people who are rich lobbyists (the Swamp?) and benefactors of his campaign into positions they are unqualified for (Betsy DeVos?) But its still okay. He's great. The Russia thing? Fake news. No evidence. No evidence FOUND with Hillary either, but that's different. Where there was once diplomacy with our allies, he's now destroying. He lies continually. His ego is willing to start a nuclear war. Is this change his supporters wanted? Apparently it is. Eight years of Obama was SO terrible. I won't copy and paste any facts to refute this. Trump supporters don't believe it anyway. Fake news. He's gotten them to not trust the media. Dictators often do that.
I am a registered Republican. I have voted Democrat since I voted for Reagan. Oops. Bush Sr. actually. But there has not been a decent GOP candidate since. I hated W, but I would give my right arm to have him as president right now. Other than Cruz, Ryan or McConnell, give me anybody. Oh, no Gowdy either. He's a punk bitch. This country is spiraling out of control. Because if Trump. People I love and respect are still waving the Trump flag. I don't understand it. Why? This is not a Hillary thing. She lost. Maybe unfairly, and even though the majority of Americans voted for her (+3,000,000), she lost. Again, Trump wants you to believe, he NEEDS you to believe that the popular vote was rigged and he won that too. He didn't. But screw it. Did you all really sign up for this? This country being divided and the USA a joke on the world stage? Your children, grandchildren, loved ones, all at risk to die in a needless war of egos? Is that how America Will Be Great Again?
Again, this is MY forum. I warned you not to read if you were not going to like what I said. You all know how I feel. But if you can honestly say, that this is EXACTLY what you signed up for, and you are satisfied with this administration, and Trump is great, well then all I can say is FUCK YOU.
Like I said. My blog. My pulpit. This is where I can speak my mind. Unfollow, unfriendly, or whatever. If you agree with Trump, well...not sure where our relationship is headed anyhow. Don't tell me he's my president and I have to respect and support him. No I don't. And I REALLY hope there is evidence that will remove him and ALL his lying cronies out of the White House. Then where will his supporters be? I know. It was a witch hunt. Fake news. Maybe the start of another Civil War? It wouldn't last long. I believe majority of military would be against him anyway. The polls and approval ratings prove I'm not alone in this. That is, if you don't believe they're fake polls and fake news. If you are a Trump supporter you most likely don't.
So there's my rant. Trump is a liar. He's a narcissistic man child. He's ignorant to the position and highly unqualified. He's destroying our country, our standing in the world, and the planet itself.
We can only hope and pray that he is gone soon. He has no business in the office he is in. If you feel the opposite, I feel sorry for you and I'll pray for you. Even though I'm agnostic, I'll pray anyways.
So goodnight. God bless you. God bless the United States of America. We will need it. The world will need it.
As I was driving yesterday, I was enjoying the Eighties station on my two week trial of SiriusXM radio. Sometimes I listen to the Seventies station as well. The Eighties station has been my personal favorite of late though. I grew into young adulthood during this time. It was simpler then. No huge responsibilities, freedom, and fun. Last years of high school, college, girls, heartbreak, fun times and not so fun times. But it seems that most every song brings a memory flooding back. Funny how sometimes you can't remember things, but yet when a certain song comes on, it's like television episode of your life comes on.
I remembered riding with my father in the car, whether we were going to the barber or somewhere else, he would always have WECK radio on. "The music if your life" was their slogan. Of course, it was a lot if Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, Sinatra, Hank Williams, Bing Crosby and many others. He would love listening to the music and usually had a story to tell about some event that it took him back to, or traveling into Chicago to see them or playing them on some Juke in a bar. Sometimes I would get bored of the "old time" music, wishing to hear some Elton John, or Wings, or anything else a little "newer." But many times I would enjoy the stories, seeing a different side of my father. A younger man. A guy who liked to do the same type of things I would do at times in my own adolescence.
So as I drove, listening to Pat Benatar, or Duran Duran, Wham!, Journey, or any of the bands of that era, it occurred to me that I had now become my father in that sense. This was my WECK radio. The Police had replace Glenn Miller, Doris Day was now the Go Go's, U2 and not Sinatra. That's probably what my kids think when I listen to my "old stuff." They want Lady GaGa (who I DO like) not the Bangles. But that's okay. Someday maybe they'll understand and realize the same way I did.
Now I have to get back to The Eurythmics and a certain girl I knew in college.
