StraightUpAmerican.com

Once the bus is over the cliff who cares who's driving?

Everywhere I turn lately someone is asking me to sign a petition or urging me to contact my elected representatives regarding some issue or other. Most of them are excellent causes and worthy issues. Some, I believe, are critical and I readily take action.

I believe our current income tax system is the biggest roadblock and heaviest anchor to our economic recovery. I believe paying taxes to support my government is a duty, but paying taxes on my earnings turns that duty into a penalty. It is fundamentally wrong to penalize people for striving to succeed. I believe a national sales tax, such as the FairTax plan, is the best solution, and so I gladly write my representatives concerning tax reform.

I believe energy independence is vital to our security as a people and our sovereignty as a nation. There are people in the world who want to conquer us, enslave us and kill us, and every time we put gas in our cars we are sending them money to support their efforts. And so, I contact my Congress-people regarding energy issues.

I believe that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely, and so I shout helplessly into the wind as I watch our government grow ever larger and take liberties and use powers that are not theirs to take or use.

And so it goes, signing petitions, writing letters, making and taking calls. On the upside I have witnessed more civic minded action and sincere discussion in the last ten months than I did in the previous thirty years. Or perhaps, it’s just that I am more in tune with societal happenings than I was before. On the downside I see people wringing their hands with worry and wonderment at the actions of our government leaders. We’re frantically signing and writing and calling and trying to make our voices heard, but it seems no one on the hill is listening.

It feels like we’re all on a bus and Obama is at the wheel. We’re headed straight for a cliff and all the people are shouting, “Stop! Turn! Slow down!” But, he can’t hear because he has his I-Pod cranked up and his vision is set on the blue sky beyond the cliff. And the Democrats of Congress and the media are all standing between Obama and the people and shouting just as loudly, “Sit down and shutup! He knows where he’s going.” And we shout and we shout until there’s nothing left to do but scream as we hurtle into the abyss.

Priceless angel

Kids are great aren’t they? All that boundless energy and unbridled enthusiasm for life, the fearlessness with which they approach everything they do, the careless joy of simple play, and their endless curiosity for everything around them always puts me in a special mood. That’s why I try never to miss an opportunity to screw with their little heads.

I was out dawdling in the yard a while ago, and several of the neighborhood kids were playing nearby. The sound of their laughter and their occasional high pitched squeals took turns making me smile and setting my teeth on edge. I suspect it has something to do with turning fifty that other people’s children aren’t quite as endearing as they once were. But, I’m quite experienced in the art of prepubescent ignoration and so I was going about my piddling without too much discomfort.

Unfortunately, in my determination to let them have their fun I didn’t notice that they had noticed me. “Hello,” I heard in a tinkling little voice. I looked up and there were three of them. They had me surrounded on one side.

“Hello,” I said, “and how are you ladies doing today?”

“Fine,” they said in chorus.

“It sounds like you’re having a lot of fun over there,” I said, and they all laughed as if I’d said the cleverest thing.

“How old are you?” asked the medium sized blond one.

“Well,” I said, “that depends on what you mean by old.” This gained me a quizzical stare but no further discussion of my age.

“We like your house.” said the taller dark haired one.

“Thank you very much,” I said. “We like it too.”

“Where did you get the money to buy such a big house?” asked the little one, her blond curls framing an angelic face.

“Well,” I drawled as I squatted down to their level. I looked around suspiciously and then whispered, “We used to have a little girl about your age, and we sold her. I sure hope your Mom and Dad don’t want a bigger house.”

They were still screaming when I stepped inside for a glass of iced tea. See, you’re never too old to play with the kids.

Dogs just need to be loved

I stopped in to see a friend the other day. Our paths of late had taken us in different directions and it was time to do a little catching up. We were sitting out on his front porch enjoying a cool drink and watching the sun inch closer to the trees. We had gotten off on one of our usual circuitous discussions and were entering the second lap when his neighbor pulled into the driveway next door. Actually, he didn’t so much pull in as he came in for a landing. We heard him coming a block or two away, and it looked as if he wasn’t going to get slowed down in time to make his driveway. He did though, and came to a screeching stop just short of the garage door.

As his truck door flew open and his boot hit the ground, his dog came running around the corner of the house to greet him. He was a regular sized dog and looked to be a mix of shepherd, retriever and probably some other breeds as well. He ran up to within a few feet of the man, and then stopped and cowered as if he could sense the man’s sour mood. He didn’t run away but he didn’t come any closer either. He turned partly away from the man, his tail wagging and his head down.

The man slammed the door of his truck, growled something that we could not hear, and kicked at the dog with his big heavy boot. The dog scampered away and the boot never came close, but you could tell it wasn’t the first time he had dodged that boot. Funny thing was, the dog didn’t run away. He stayed out of reach of the man and his boot, but he never ran away and his tail never stopped wagging. He followed the man until he was inside the house and after a minute or so he crawled under the man’s truck and layed down.

I looked over at my friend who was slowly shaking his head. “They been going through a rough patch lately,” he said. “He lost his job and she’s had some health problems. He’s picking up work where he can. He’s basically a good guy but here lately he comes home like that more often than not. From what I can tell he cools down once he’s inside with the wife and kids, but that poor old dog has caught the brunt of it a few times. I don’t think he’s ever actually kicked the dog. He yells at it and kicks at it, but the dog always comes back for more. Actually, I know for a  fact that he loves that dog, but I guess he needs to blow off some steam and that dog is always the first one he sees when he comes home. Anyway, his problems have got nothing to do with the dog.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said, “but the dog don’t know the difference.”

It’s Memorial Day. Bet you thought I forgot. Funny thing about Memorial Day: to me it’s what they must have been thinking of when they coined the phrase, “bitter sweet.” When I consider the loss and sacrifice of those who served to defend and protect our Country and our values, I feel bitter that we as human beings can not find a way to settle our differences without shedding blood. But then, when I consider the purpose for which they fought, the cause they served, and the freedoms they protected I am nearly overwhelmed with a sense of affection, respect and appreciation.

When I think of my friends, family members, and loved ones who are gone now I am saddened that I didn’t get to spend more time with them, but I am thankful to have known them at all.

And then I think of those who are still here, those who have made a difference in my life, who have encouraged me, supported me, taught me, helped me, loved me. And, I am reminded that they too will be gone someday. Have I told them often enough how much they mean to me? Do they even know of the difference they’ve made? When they’re gone will there be enough sweet memories to overcome the bitterness of loss?

I’ll not wish you a happy Memorial Day, but I do wish you a sweet one.

Always,

Tim Couch

Greetings,

Okay, I apologize for this one up front. I know what you’re going to say, “Ah Crap! More bozo philosophy.” What can I tell ya, it’s hot outside. You sit around contemplating your navel too long and these are the things that come to mind. So, today’s topic is “Unrealized Dreams.”

As a kid what did you want to be when you grew up? You don’t need to answer that. It’s none of my business. But, what were the things you pictured yourself doing that somehow you never got to do? More importantly, what are the things you dreamt of as a child that have stayed with you into adulthood? That place that, even today, when you relax the reins on your mind and let it wander where it wants it always seems to wind up there? These are the dreams that need attention.

Maybe we can’t do them the way we once could have. Let’s face it, in youth we’re limited by time and necessity, and in age we’re limited by ability and mobility. But, that doesn’t mean the dream dies. It just needs a little tweaking. Adjust it to better fit your current circumstances. Instead of a childhood dream, make it a grownup dream.

Or, if the dream is something that is simply not possible for you to do maybe you can experience a taste of fulfillment by helping someone else to realize it. After all, a taste of a brownie is way better than a dream of a brownie.

Okay fine, I’ll hush now. Have a good day.

Contemplatively,

Tim Couch