The world is spinning in many directions. First Tunisia and now Egypt has ousted their leaders. Lybia may be next with all the turmoil this week, reports of uprisings with government reportedly killing over 200 protesters. Terrible storm in New Zealand, many dead and missing, the town of Fallschurch may need to be leveled to the ground.
And everyday here in the USA I read about another criminal action by our socialist President. In additions, the deaths on and near the Mexican boarder are escalating and no sign of securing the border soon either.
ACLU suing over prayer in the military, Government arguing over gay rights and gay marriage. Because of what is going on in the Middle East, we can expect gas prices to continue their upward spiral and there is quite a bit of speculation that there will soon be rapid increases in the cost of food.
Of priority, is the storing of food and water. The time to act I believe was yesterday, and I truly hope I can acquire our food supply within the next 6 months.
Feb 26, 2011
Feb 23, 2011
This is an Article I read and thought was very inspiring: Afghanistan special report: Lt Nazar Mohammed at war from age 14
http://ukforcesafghanistan.wordpress.com/2011/02/23/afghanistan-special-report-lt-nazar-mohammed-at-war-from-age-14/
NOTE: THIS WAS Published in the Daily Mirror by Christ Hughes, I thought it was so interesting, I added this to my blog.
Afghanistan special report: Lt Nazar Mohammed at war from age 14
by Chris Hughes, Daily Mirror
Pictures by Andy Stenning
Behind enemy lines in Afghanistan: Day Two
THEY call him The Commander. And sitting on a compound roof raking Taliban positions with his PK machine gun this grizzled Charles Bronson lookalike is a master of the terrible art of war.
Lieutenant Nazar Mohammed is a near-legendary Tajik warrior who has been at war since 14 when he picked up a gun to avenge his brother’s death.
Then he was a mujahedeen fighting the Russians, now he is commanding a heavy weapons platoon of battle-hardened Afghan National Army soldiers on the Helmand front line.
These are the British and American-trained troops whose new soldiering skills will be the legacy our forces leave behind when they withdraw by 2015.
More than 12,000 are now fully trained in Helmand – just under half the 30,000 needed to secure the flashpoint province – once the Taliban heartland.
All over Afghanistan there are just over 157,000 trained ANA.
INSURGENTS
The lethal Soviet-made, belt-fed machine gun looks like an extension of the 35-year-old father of two’s arm as he calmly blasts the insurgents, his loyal men applauding every burst.
After 20 minutes he shrugs and climbs down, nodding at Lieutenant Rhydian Emlyn-Williams.
It’s as if he is telling his British adviser – 12 years his junior: “That’s how you deal with the Taliban Afghan-style.”
When RPGs go bang and bullets fly Lt Nazar doesn’t even blink.
NOTE: THIS WAS Published in the Daily Mirror by Christ Hughes, I thought it was so interesting, I added this to my blog.
Afghanistan special report: Lt Nazar Mohammed at war from age 14
February 23, 2011
Pictures by Andy Stenning
Behind enemy lines in Afghanistan: Day Two
THEY call him The Commander. And sitting on a compound roof raking Taliban positions with his PK machine gun this grizzled Charles Bronson lookalike is a master of the terrible art of war.
Lieutenant Nazar Mohammed is a near-legendary Tajik warrior who has been at war since 14 when he picked up a gun to avenge his brother’s death.
Then he was a mujahedeen fighting the Russians, now he is commanding a heavy weapons platoon of battle-hardened Afghan National Army soldiers on the Helmand front line.
These are the British and American-trained troops whose new soldiering skills will be the legacy our forces leave behind when they withdraw by 2015.
More than 12,000 are now fully trained in Helmand – just under half the 30,000 needed to secure the flashpoint province – once the Taliban heartland.
All over Afghanistan there are just over 157,000 trained ANA.
INSURGENTS
The lethal Soviet-made, belt-fed machine gun looks like an extension of the 35-year-old father of two’s arm as he calmly blasts the insurgents, his loyal men applauding every burst.
After 20 minutes he shrugs and climbs down, nodding at Lieutenant Rhydian Emlyn-Williams.
It’s as if he is telling his British adviser – 12 years his junior: “That’s how you deal with the Taliban Afghan-style.”
When RPGs go bang and bullets fly Lt Nazar doesn’t even blink.
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He has been shot three times by the Russians, but his slow gait is the only sign of his brushes with death.
Turning to me he says: “I have been fighting since I was a boy – it no longer has any effect on me to fight like this.
“I picked up a gun to avenge my brother’s death and still, even now, I am a soldier fighting for the future of Afghanistan – just like I was all those years ago. Why am I so calm? I am calm because this is my job.
“I have to fight like this and I have been doing it for so long now it is every day life for me.
“The Taliban are stupid and listen to foreign commanders from Pakistan, Chechnya and Arab countries.
“But they should put down their guns and join us fighting this menace of foreigners coming in here and trying to destroy our country.” Unlike many of his men he does not hate the Taliban.
The unspoken truth about this war is that some of his soldiers may well be ex-Taliban fighters themselves.
Sighing, he continues: “We are all Muslims, all Afghani. I want to see a better Afghanistan but it will take time. Eventually, when the British pull out, we will secure Afghanistan.” I ask him which was worse, Afghanistan under the Russians, or Afghanistan under the Taliban. He replies simply: “That is the only question I will not answer.” He knows many of those he is fighting are fellow Afghanis, bowing to pressure, either through poverty or fear.
We joined Lt Nazar as his men fought the Taliban for three days after a dramatic air-assault on a remote area of south Nahr-e-Saraj, central Helmand.
The Lt commands a platoon from the 1st Kandak, 3 Brigade, 215 Corps of the ANA. Their night air-assault stormed Taliban IED belts and ambushes.
More such operations aim to pave the way for the British to withdraw, leaving 179,000 trained ANA soldiers. But Lt Nazar feels this will not be enough if the International Security Assistance Force withdraws.
He adds: “One day soldiers like my men will be able to secure our country. Helmand is key as it is the most volatile. But we need about 250,000 men to do it. Without that we could be in trouble.”
He has been shot three times by the Russians, but his slow gait is the only sign of his brushes with death.
Turning to me he says: “I have been fighting since I was a boy – it no longer has any effect on me to fight like this.
“I picked up a gun to avenge my brother’s death and still, even now, I am a soldier fighting for the future of Afghanistan – just like I was all those years ago. Why am I so calm? I am calm because this is my job.
“I have to fight like this and I have been doing it for so long now it is every day life for me.
“The Taliban are stupid and listen to foreign commanders from Pakistan, Chechnya and Arab countries.
“But they should put down their guns and join us fighting this menace of foreigners coming in here and trying to destroy our country.” Unlike many of his men he does not hate the Taliban.
The unspoken truth about this war is that some of his soldiers may well be ex-Taliban fighters themselves.
Sighing, he continues: “We are all Muslims, all Afghani. I want to see a better Afghanistan but it will take time. Eventually, when the British pull out, we will secure Afghanistan.” I ask him which was worse, Afghanistan under the Russians, or Afghanistan under the Taliban. He replies simply: “That is the only question I will not answer.” He knows many of those he is fighting are fellow Afghanis, bowing to pressure, either through poverty or fear.
We joined Lt Nazar as his men fought the Taliban for three days after a dramatic air-assault on a remote area of south Nahr-e-Saraj, central Helmand.
The Lt commands a platoon from the 1st Kandak, 3 Brigade, 215 Corps of the ANA. Their night air-assault stormed Taliban IED belts and ambushes.
More such operations aim to pave the way for the British to withdraw, leaving 179,000 trained ANA soldiers. But Lt Nazar feels this will not be enough if the International Security Assistance Force withdraws.
He adds: “One day soldiers like my men will be able to secure our country. Helmand is key as it is the most volatile. But we need about 250,000 men to do it. Without that we could be in trouble.”
Read the report on the Mirror website
Jan 29, 2011
Peace in Every Heart
I heard there was a bomb last night.
Oh, it wasn't here -
It was in a land far far away
But in my heart I care.
I heard a little child was killed
For nothing that he did but
Just because the world's at war
For this only he has bled.
I heard that now in other lands
The people shout for peace
Rise up with banners in their hands
To ask God for their release.
The wars not here within my place
And yet my heart's in pain
Their sorrows now are mine indeed
My brothers hurt to bear again.
A Mother holds her dying child
Tears pouring down her face!
I could not bear that pain to see
The horror of that place.
And though I live where I am free,
Where peace and plenty are,
I yearn the day the world can be
At peace with those afar!
I pray that God who dwells on high
Will hear the mournful pleas
Of those who want a world of peace,
And ask while on their knees.
For God is who of all our friends
Can take us by the hand
And heal the world both near and far
In each and every land.
Will you now join me in this quest?
Love's journey we will take.
Release our hearts from anger now
And Peace with all our brothers make?
.
Oh, it wasn't here -
It was in a land far far away
But in my heart I care.
I heard a little child was killed
For nothing that he did but
Just because the world's at war
For this only he has bled.
I heard that now in other lands
The people shout for peace
Rise up with banners in their hands
To ask God for their release.
The wars not here within my place
And yet my heart's in pain
Their sorrows now are mine indeed
My brothers hurt to bear again.
A Mother holds her dying child
Tears pouring down her face!
I could not bear that pain to see
The horror of that place.
And though I live where I am free,
Where peace and plenty are,
I yearn the day the world can be
At peace with those afar!
I pray that God who dwells on high
Will hear the mournful pleas
Of those who want a world of peace,
And ask while on their knees.
For God is who of all our friends
Can take us by the hand
And heal the world both near and far
In each and every land.
Will you now join me in this quest?
Love's journey we will take.
Release our hearts from anger now
And Peace with all our brothers make?
.
Some Thoughts on Peace
The only thing that will unite the human race is love, forgiveness, and concern for our fellow man.
That means that the East also must reach out to the West and vice versus. Education brings understanding. Forgiveness allows healing. We cannot begin to spread peace in the world if we have hate in our hearts.
If one suffers, we all suffer. Our prayers to God will be heard if we unite. This is the only way to peace. God Bless you all as we strive to bring peace in a world filled with suffering and war! God will hear our prayers, let us all pray and work toward peace and love our fellowman with all our hearts, bear their burdens and their sufferings as if they were our own family.
That means that the East also must reach out to the West and vice versus. Education brings understanding. Forgiveness allows healing. We cannot begin to spread peace in the world if we have hate in our hearts.
If one suffers, we all suffer. Our prayers to God will be heard if we unite. This is the only way to peace. God Bless you all as we strive to bring peace in a world filled with suffering and war! God will hear our prayers, let us all pray and work toward peace and love our fellowman with all our hearts, bear their burdens and their sufferings as if they were our own family.
Jan 22, 2011
Poetry from my past
January 23, 2011
The following is some of the poetry I wrote through the years, usually inspired by my lovely children, or an event that touched my heart in some way.
This was written to my teenagers and preteens. Saturday was always the day we cleaned the house, stocked wood for the fire, and did out side chores as well. Besides not getting up before noon, they dragged their heavy feet to the best of their ability to prolong the agony they seemed to feel with every ounce of work. Amazingly, I can laugh about today, they are all incredible hard working people, industrious, well-educated and devoted parents. Whatever we did, Richard and I, manage to raise a great bunch of kids who have us proud. This is now, but that was then, so here it is etched by my pen!
To My Children:
Sharing the work
May seem like a quirk
But only a jerk doesn't know that work works
At making people
Better than a slum bum
and a sloth of a moth!
Sleeping too Late
Why must you tempt the dream
--- just one more time
Be up and Out!!
Throw back your lazy blanket and your sheet
The morning sun impatiently is heaped
Behind your noontime shades!
This poem was written to my son, Joshua, upon his graduation from High School:
Wish to my Graduating Son
Tomorrow's blazing dawn
Lies nestled tightly in your tender palm,
And like the lovely monarch fresh from birth
That quivers into burst of flight
To pierce the luring morning light
Your hearts now poised to soar new skies
Tomorrows dreams reflected in your eyes.
Son, here then is my wish to you:
May all your burning dreams come true,
As you propel above our sights
To dance in tune with truth and light,
To leap beyond this crowning day,
To tread on jewels along the way,
To touch with awe the distant stars,
To reach your goals that now seem far,
To hold tomorrows crimson suns,
And taste the sweet of victory won!
Joshua graduated 3rd in the class of 200 students. He went on to college and then became a fireman and paramedic. He is now married with two little girls of his own and holds a very responsible job in Utah at the Dugway Army Proving grounds. I see now that my wish for him came true.
The following is some of the poetry I wrote through the years, usually inspired by my lovely children, or an event that touched my heart in some way.
This was written to my teenagers and preteens. Saturday was always the day we cleaned the house, stocked wood for the fire, and did out side chores as well. Besides not getting up before noon, they dragged their heavy feet to the best of their ability to prolong the agony they seemed to feel with every ounce of work. Amazingly, I can laugh about today, they are all incredible hard working people, industrious, well-educated and devoted parents. Whatever we did, Richard and I, manage to raise a great bunch of kids who have us proud. This is now, but that was then, so here it is etched by my pen!
To My Children:
Sharing the work
May seem like a quirk
But only a jerk doesn't know that work works
At making people
Better than a slum bum
and a sloth of a moth!
Sleeping too Late
Why must you tempt the dream
--- just one more time
Be up and Out!!
Throw back your lazy blanket and your sheet
The morning sun impatiently is heaped
Behind your noontime shades!
This poem was written to my son, Joshua, upon his graduation from High School:
Wish to my Graduating Son
Tomorrow's blazing dawn
Lies nestled tightly in your tender palm,
And like the lovely monarch fresh from birth
That quivers into burst of flight
To pierce the luring morning light
Your hearts now poised to soar new skies
Tomorrows dreams reflected in your eyes.
Son, here then is my wish to you:
May all your burning dreams come true,
As you propel above our sights
To dance in tune with truth and light,
To leap beyond this crowning day,
To tread on jewels along the way,
To touch with awe the distant stars,
To reach your goals that now seem far,
To hold tomorrows crimson suns,
And taste the sweet of victory won!
Joshua graduated 3rd in the class of 200 students. He went on to college and then became a fireman and paramedic. He is now married with two little girls of his own and holds a very responsible job in Utah at the Dugway Army Proving grounds. I see now that my wish for him came true.
Remembering Lynn
January 23, 2011
I lived for the first 17 years of my life in a little house at 26 Althea Road, Warwick, Rhode Island. After I was born in Providence Lion Inn Hospital, my mother bundled me up and brought me home to that address.
While living there I attended grammar school, jr. high, and high school. Every memory I have prior to the age of 18, was lived coming, going, or dwelling in that house.
On the other side of Althea Street, was another little house, owned by the Pearson family which consisted of Dave and Lena (mom and dad) and Gail and Lynn (two little girls).
Lynn and I became friends before I was 4 years old and during my life that friendship lasted, a bond that was to be like non other in my life. We were closer than sisters. So it was ironic, or perhaps it was destiny that it came on the day of her death she was spending time with me at my home in Virginia.
The details of her death were tragic and later put my life into a spin. But here I only want to leave this poem which I wrote a few weeks after her death, hoping that this reflection can be understood by others as a way for me to remember my best friend Lynn.
|
Today while on my morning walk,
The scent of honeysuckle vine
Was in the air and stirred my melancholy heart.
I felt your presence once again,
My dearest, dearest friend.
Although you’ve crossed the golden bridge beyond
To dwell where God’s winged angels sail upon
The alabaster moons and silver stars
Which float in Heaven’s timeless space,
The scent of honeysuckle took me back
To childhood jaunts in greening woods
Where once we strolled together
Hand in hand amid the morning light.
We one day found a frothy brook
And stooped in giddy wonder there to spy
The miracles which God had placed
Beneath the swirling waters spilling by -
O’er rocks and twigs and fallen leaves.
That’s just one of many wonders
That we two shared,
While living out our tandem lives.
The vision’s etched in gold upon my heart
Entwined with other sacred memories there.
I see now as this honeysuckle clings to vines
Which lend it strength and shape its climb
You were to me my dearest friend,
And will be missed with every breath
Of air I breathe.
And every day that I remain
To tread upon this gray and misty earth
I shall not feel one minute slip beyond my reach
Nor walk one forward step alone,
Wherein I will not wistfully recall
The moments shared by our two sister souls.
But I shall keep them treasured in my breast-
Those hopes and dreams, the memories past
Although like visions in the night
They’ll dare fade out of touch and sight.
Jeri May,2000
If Every Guy Were Harry
If Every Guy Were Harry
Could you just imagine if the world were all the same?
What if every guy were Harry and each girl named Elaine!
Think of just how tasteless all your trips would be
If everyone were faceless or they looked exact like thee!
Do you think that you could stand it if when walking down your street
Every house was white with shingles and each the same square feet?
Suppose each home had in it just two parents and two kids,
a dog a cat, a fish bowl, and a white-haired Aunt name Midge?
Or, what if after shopping you walked out to find your car
And saw a thousand like it, so you searched for twenty hours?
Suppose you had a sickness and strolled down to see the Doc,
But each door said Doctor Johnson --then you'd know not where to knock.
What if your son were fighting with the bully kid next door
Yet you'd know not who to punish or to drag home through your door.
If your daughter's name were Gerry and her friend was Gerry too
And each one had a boyfriend by the name of Gerry too!
And say you called the baker to deliver up some pies
But when you rang the doorbell you saw yourself before your eyes!!
Oh my, it would be crazy if the world were all the same
With every guy called Harry and each girl named Elaine!!
But wasn't God so clever, cause He made us each unique
Tall or short or fat or thin or with size 11 feet!
So when inclined to censor everyone you know
Be thankful that if your name is Butch and his is just plain Joe.
Jeri Milici Mork
written May 2003
Could you just imagine if the world were all the same?
What if every guy were Harry and each girl named Elaine!
Think of just how tasteless all your trips would be
If everyone were faceless or they looked exact like thee!
Do you think that you could stand it if when walking down your street
Every house was white with shingles and each the same square feet?
Suppose each home had in it just two parents and two kids,
a dog a cat, a fish bowl, and a white-haired Aunt name Midge?
Or, what if after shopping you walked out to find your car
And saw a thousand like it, so you searched for twenty hours?
Suppose you had a sickness and strolled down to see the Doc,
But each door said Doctor Johnson --then you'd know not where to knock.
What if your son were fighting with the bully kid next door
Yet you'd know not who to punish or to drag home through your door.
If your daughter's name were Gerry and her friend was Gerry too
And each one had a boyfriend by the name of Gerry too!
And say you called the baker to deliver up some pies
But when you rang the doorbell you saw yourself before your eyes!!
Oh my, it would be crazy if the world were all the same
With every guy called Harry and each girl named Elaine!!
But wasn't God so clever, cause He made us each unique
Tall or short or fat or thin or with size 11 feet!
So when inclined to censor everyone you know
Be thankful that if your name is Butch and his is just plain Joe.
Jeri Milici Mork
written May 2003
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