Sorry folks...

It's good to get emails from you guys when I don't post wondering if all is ok but I've learned not to post here when I'm upset. I know you guys don't come in here to hear me rant and rave over shit you could care less about.

So this afternoon I'm gonna spare the details of my past 2 days. It was looking up a little before I got hit square in the face with a fucking brick a few minutes ago. I'll leave it at that for now. If I make the decision tonight that I think I'm going to make, I'll share it with you a little later this evening.

Melon Memories....

This past weekend was pretty strange for me.

Since I’ve been writing these pages, I’ve done a lot of thinking. Some of it has led to memories that have always been familiar to me. Some not pleasant but their all the same. Most of my childhood memories are bad ones. I was a rotten kid after my Grandmother died, my good days were over. I don’t have one pleasant memory after her death. I was the baby of her grandchildren. Whatever I wanted, I got. No one was allowed to mess with me in any form. Then she went into the hospital and she died. She was 64.

I happened to run into a cousin of mine Sunday. Ricky is the last of the family that I’ll even speak to. I think he’s four years older than I am. When we were growing up, he was the black sheep of the family. And considering the family I came from, that was something! We didn’t lack for a list of candidates.

We began talking about some of the relatives and what we thought of each one. He mentioned our aunt Nelline. What was so freaky about seeing him and the conversation leading to this was that I was just thinking about her on Friday. I’d been thinking of her families visits to the south and in particular the 4th of July week visits.

Nelly, her husband George and 3 kids would pile into the station wagon (that’s a prehistoric SUV for you kids reading this) and trek down a 2 lane state highway to Tennessee from Ohio. Their visits thinking back now seems like the ones Chevy Chase took in the “Vacation” movies. They were the ‘rich’ relatives coming to visit. They weren’t really rich but it sure seemed like it to us. They did all the neat stuff us kids loved. I remember George taking all of us to the lake for swimming. His son Mike saved my life one day up there when I went under and he grabbed me by the hair of the head to bring me up. We decided not to tell my bitch mom about that little incident.

But on their 4th of July vacation visits, they’d always buy tons of watermelons and we’d cut them up on the back porch at Grandma’s house. Someone would pull out the ice cream maker and all the grandkids would take turns cranking it. It still has to be the best ice cream I’ve ever tasted.

I know family get-togethers are 4th of July traditions but ours stopped after Grandma died. It just wasn’t the same. A lot of things stopped after she died. Anyone loving me seemed to stop too. At least anyone showing it.

Today, I bought a chunk of watermelon. I took it to my Grandmother’s grave. I ate it sitting on a small wall at the foot of her grave and talked to Grandma for the first time in a long time. The melon wasn’t as sweet as I remembered it and there was no ice cream. There was no Grandma either. At least in person.

But she was there. And I smiled on the 4th of July for one of the few times since 1966. It was a good Fourth for me.

"Respect for the country... always"
"Respect for the government when it deserves it."

Mark Twain

I Am the Flag of the

Of America

I am the flag of the United States of America.
My name is Old Glory.
I fly atop the world's tallest buildings.
I stand watch in America's halls of justice.
I fly majestically over institutions of learning.
I stand guard with power in the world.
Look up and see me.

I stand for peace, honor, truth and justice.
I stand for freedom.
I am confident.
I am arrogant.
I am proud.
When I am flown with my fellow banners,
My head is a little higher,
My colors a little truer.
I bow to no one!
I am recognized all over the world.
I am worshipped - I am saluted.
I am loved - I am revered.
I am respected - and I am feared.
I have fought in every battle of every war for more then 200 years.I was flown at Valley Forge, Gettysburg, Shiloh and Appomattox.
I was there at San Juan Hill, the trenches of France,
in the Argonne Forest, Anzio, Rome and the beaches of Normandy.
Guam, Okinawa, Korea and KheSan, Saigon, Vietnam know me.
I'm presently in the mountains of Afganistan and the hot and dusty deserts of Iraq and wherever freedom is needed.
I led my troops, I was dirty, battleworn and tired,
But my soldiers cheered me and I was proud.
I have been burned, torn and trampled on the streets of countries I have helped set free.
It does not hurt for I am invincible.
I have been soiled upon, burned, torn and trampled in the streets of my country.
And when it's done by those Whom I've served in battle - it hurts.
But I shall overcome - for I am strong.
I have slipped the bonds of Earth and stood watch over the uncharted frontiers of space from my vantage point on the moon.
I have borne silent witness to all of America's finest hours.
But my finest hours are yet to come.
When I am torn into strips and used as bandages for my wounded comrades on the battlefield,
When I am flown at half-mast to honor my soldier,
Or when I lie in the trembling arms of a grieving parent
at the grave of their fallen son or daughter,

I am proud.