Wednesday, March 31, 2010

I had an anonymous letter sent to me when I was a struggling youth, and the words have come to mind again in light of all the upheaval in the media/government.

For people of faith the background should be familiar

When you come to the Red Sea place in your life,
When in spite of all you can do
There is no way back, there is no way ‘round,
There is no other way but through
Then trust in the Lord with a faith supreme
‘Till the night and the storms are gone.
He will still the winds, He will part the waves,
and He'll say to your soul,
‘Go on!’

The poem is attributed to an unknown author.


Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Interesting article from Beck on Che, Socialism, Communism and Nazis:,2933,583732,00.html

Monday, March 29, 2010

A bit of prose I neglected to upload:

At Sea

I found my place today
A tiny postage stamp of teak
Under the lifeboats, beside the salt spray
A miniscule nook of a place
Away from the throbbing music
And the throbbing pulse of youth
My solitude in itself an irony~
As only steel and glass, and a corner turned
And I’d moved from that chaos people choose
To the intimacy of the sea
The cool side of the ship, the blue water slipping darkly past
Rhythm of waves broken by the stern
Boiling white in cobalt blue
What an odd place,
Looking up at the hulking mass of lifeboat
Orange prisoner in Sisyphean chains
Cursed to remain, cursed if used.
And we’re headed south, just off Mexican shores
Bookended by horizon to horizon with no land in sight
The east side of the boat is cool
And the west side of the boat hot
Warmer side still dark, yet mixed from a palate to a lighter shade
Tumbling crests the trillions of Poseidon’s jewels
Facets changing to uncut stone and back again
Such a magician’s act!
I could stare at the sea in its many faces
And see the face of my lover, see the scope of her time
See her in the storms and the calm,
Her hair the great waving expanse
Her breath the brine of life
As if she were blushing Venus, newly stepped from the shell.
No, my life is not found in the gathering events of masses
Mine is found under the lifeboats, beside the salt spray
A tiny nook of a place
Away from the throbbing music of youth
A steel and glass column turned,
And moving from the chaos people choose
To the savage beauty of the open sea
Down sleek white ship sides into the blue,
Knifing through the dark
Boiling white meeting cresting cobalt blue


Fish and Man

I fed fish today
No, not the exact sort of activity you may suppose
A pinch of flake food poised above a glassy sided tank—
No, I was among them, in their watery element
An air breather thus positioned by contrivance
A mask, plastic fins, and a snorkel
But the fish didn’t seem to mind
They happily joined me to dine on scraps of sandwich and cereal
Taking in and accepting; my black shirt and plaid shorts
All too like their own coloring
Sleek dark bodies and bright yellow caudal fins
They torpedoed in from the dark, fire in their quizzical eyes
The eyes compelled me, spoke to me
Those orbs were filled with life; were not the eyes that a fisherman sees on shore
The eyes of a dying thing
These held the spark of noumen in their element
And I felt privy to something God already knows
That all beings are intelligent~
They were quick to come to my little feast, and slow to leave, ghosting along
Hesitant to leave, like the puppy that refuses to stop playing
After this stranger strokes it.
These all were my pets today while I fed them
And I was the one behind the glass this time
The alien in their world
They were kind enough not to tap on my mask
Happy to oblige me in my feast
This alien visitor in their watery world
Supplanted son of the same Creator
Sharing a snack in their world.



Transplanted today
From wave and gull and sea
To the desert
Greasewood, barrel cactus and Joshua tree
Makes me want to bless this land
Land of many places
Land of people with pride of place
Straight highways
Dust brown desert mountains black with shadows
‘tis home that we are headed for
no strange land where strange tongue rolls
but home, home, spoken by familiar tongues
the voices of my children
Hyrum, Madolin, Miles, Graham
A place fixed; nothing moving, polar as the north star
Our ultimate destination
Transplanted no more
At home in our Deseret
With the leaves of my progeny all around me

For a little cross pollenation, please go find me on

Book finished this week

Shooter by Sgt. Jack Coughlin, Lt. Casey Kuhlman, and Donald A. Davis, ISBN-13: 978-0312336868

I started a book this morning, the final installment of the Fablehaven series, Keys to the Demon Prison (ISBN-13: 978-1606412381) by Local Utah author Brandon Mull. it is fast fun reading with a moral message; I hope to finish this one tonight and then on to an book co-authored by Tony Dungy.

The Dungy book is titled Quiet Strength: The Principles, Practices, and Priorities of a Winning Life by Tony Dungy and Nathan Whitaker, ISBN-13: 978-1414318028


Thursday, March 25, 2010

Wow...just, wow.

"This might be the most dangerous monologue I've ever done, because I'm telling you now: They need you to be violent. They are begging you for it. You are being set up. Do not give them what they want. I saw a report earlier today on Fox about how congressmen are getting death threats because they voted for the health care bill.

I am telling you: Do not become them! Not only is it completely nuts and wrong, it's exactly what they want. That's what they did!

They have dropped the radical pose for the radical ends. Don't play into their script: They need you to become them.

I know it is extremely frustrating right now and they are doubling down, but do not give them what they want. Remain who you've always been: A decent, religious and moral people. Don't pick anything up except your religious scripture.

Our country is in real trouble. Radicals are poking and prodding. Get on your knees. Beg for forgiveness for our arrogance and for how we've disregarded our freedoms.

I have said on the program before: Expect miracles in our lifetimes. I'm telling you, you will see them. There are tough times ahead, but the only weapon in our arsenal we need is God. Beg him for guidance and help. He will take care of everything else.",2933,589943,00.html


Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Fiction Braindump 3/24/2010 @ 0355

In my dreams it is always the same; places I know. Not all are familar as my boyhood home, some are as vague as the doc we stood on before boarding the great cruise ship bound for mexico. In the dream today we are at the Preston rodeo and it is summer. The stadium is filled but none of the people have faces, at least none that are dicernable. Each one I look at is indistinguishable, as if I am looking too closely at a Vah Gogh painting and each layer and swoop marking the lines in their faces.

In the dream you have just excused yourself to the bathroom, yet I feel the panic building. Dreams have that way about them; time skewed, reality warped. Have you just stood up or have I been sitting here for hours while you were away?

The children are nowhere to be seen. I smell popcorn, and my cheek is still sticky where the littlest one touched me; his hands smearing gooey caramel on my rough face. He always has sticky fingers, that one.

These dreams are disturbing for the great swooping motions of sociality. One moment we are together and the next it is as if the stadium is quiet; the stands empty save for wrappers and stale popcorn, the lights out and a cricket chirping in the juxtaposition of stillness. The constant contradiction of nature in a filled and then emptied venue holds me. I am stayed by the change, the animus of the place lost with the absence of people.

It's akin to the way a worn pair of jeans must feel when missing the legs that filled them for years after being cast off. If jeans and empty benches are like cast shells on the beach; washed up, empty, mere husks of what they were when life was in them.

My dreams continue along a familiar plane as I stand to search for you, flashing to places we have been; the old apartment, the movie theater where we stood and walked out of chicago to the snickering of the couple in the row behind us at our conservative audacity, in the cab of our long gone Jeep.

My call is the cry of a shore bird and yours the quiet whisper of the sea against the hull of a boat; and I am gone, the air, the salt spray, gone. Pelagic wandering albatross searching for a spar to rest on.


Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Thank you Dad for sending this email to me. If you check your sources you will find this is no false chain mail.

Mr Hall's words make me sad for the direction America is currently taking. I do realize many of the educated are wearing Che t-shirts and applauding the social health bill that was passed yesterday. The direction America took Sunday is one they want. I am not one of them and am saddened by this path we appears poised on--the Social programme.

I do believe in God and hard work. Hopefully God will give us time to fix the issues that plague our freedoms. The road ahead is going to be an interesting one.


"I'm 63 and I'm Tired" by Robert A. Hall

I'm 63. Except for one semester in college when jobs were scarce and a six-month period when I was between jobs, but job-hunting every day, I've worked, hard, since I was 18. Despite some health challenges, I still put in 50-hour weeks, and haven't called in sick in seven or eight years. I make a good salary, but I didn't inherit my job or my income, and I worked to get where I am. Given the economy, there's no retirement in sight, and I'm tired. Very tired.

I'm tired of being told that I have to "spread the wealth" to people who don't have my work ethic. I'm tired of being told the government will take the money I earned, by force if necessary, and give it to people too lazy to earn it.

I'm tired of being told that I have to pay more taxes to "keep people in their homes." Sure, if they lost their jobs or got sick, I'm willing to help. But if they bought McMansions at three times the price of our paid-off, $250,000 condo, on one-third of my salary, then let the left-wing Congress-critters who passed Fannie and Freddie and the Community Reinvestment Act that created the bubble help them with their own money.

I'm tired of being told how bad America is by left-wing millionaires like Michael Moore, George Soros and Hollywood Entertainers who live in luxury because of the opportunities America offers. In thirty years, if they get their way, the United States will have the economy of Zimbabwe, the freedom of the press of China, the crime and violence of Mexico, the tolerance for Christian people of Iran, and the freedom of speech of Venezuela.

I'm tired of being told that Islam is a "Religion of Peace," when every day I can read dozens of stories of Muslim men killing their sisters, wives and daughters for their family "honor"; of Muslims rioting over some slight offense; of Muslims murdering Christian and Jews because they aren't "believers"; of Muslims burning schools for girls; of Muslims stoning teenage rape victims to death for "adultery"; of Muslims mutilating the genitals of little girls; all in the name of Allah, because the Qur'an and Shari'a law tells them to.

I'm tired of being told that "race doesn't matter" in the post-racial world of Obama, when it's all that matters in affirmative action jobs, lower college admission and graduation standards for minorities (harming them the most), government contract set-asides, tolerance for the ghetto culture of violence and fatherless children that hurts minorities more than anyone, and in the appointment of U.S. Senators from Illinois.

I think it's very cool that we have a black president and that a black child is doing her homework at the desk where Lincoln wrote the Emancipation Proclamation. I just wish the black president was Condi Rice, or someone who believes more in freedom and the individual and less arrogantly of an all-knowing government.

I'm tired of a news media that thinks Bush's fundraising and inaugural expenses were obscene, but that think Obama's, at triple the cost, were wonderful; that thinks Bush exercising daily was a waste of presidential time, but Obama exercising is a great example for the public to control weight and stress; that picked over every line of Bush's military records, but never demanded that Kerry release his; that slammed Palin, with two years as governor, for being too inexperienced for VP, but touted Obama with three years as senator as potentially the best president ever. Wonder why
people are dropping their subscriptions or switching to Fox News? Get a clue. I didn't vote for Bush in 2000, but the media and Kerry drove me to his camp in 2004.

I'm tired of being told that out of "tolerance for other cultures" we must let Saudi Arabia use our oil money to fund mosques and madrassa Islamic schools to preach hate in America , while no American group is allowed to fund a church, synagogue or religious school in Saudi Arabia to teach love and tolerance.

I'm tired of being told I must lower my living standard to fight global warming, which no one is allowed to debate. My wife and I live in a two-bedroom apartment and carpool together five miles to our jobs. We also own a three-bedroom condo where our daughter and granddaughter live. Our carbon footprint is about 5% of Al Gore's, and if you're greener than Gore, you're green enough.

I'm tired of being told that drug addicts have a disease, and I must help support and treat them, and pay for the damage they do. Did a giant germ rush out of a dark alley, grab them, and stuff white powder up their noses while they tried to fight it off? I don't think Gay people choose to be Gay, but I damn sure think druggies chose to take drugs. And I'm tired of harassment from cool people treating me like a freak when I tell them I never tried marijuana.

I'm tired of illegal aliens being called "undocumented workers," especially
the ones who aren't working, but are living on welfare or crime. What's next? Calling drug dealers, "Undocumented Pharmacists"? And, no, I'm not against Hispanics. Most of them are Catholic, and it's been a few hundred years since Catholics wanted to kill me for my religion. I'm willing to fast track for citizenship any Hispanic person, who can speak English, doesn't have a criminal record and who is self-supporting without family on welfare, or who serves honorably for three years in our military.... Those are the citizens we need.

I'm tired of latte liberals and journalists, who would never wear the uniform of the Republic themselves, or let their entitlement-handicapped kids near a recruiting station, trashing our military. They and their kids can sit at home, never having to make split-second decisions under life and death circumstances, and bad mouth better people than themselves. Do bad things happen in war? You bet. Do our troops sometimes misbehave? Sure. Does this compare with the atrocities that were the policy of our enemies for the last fifty years and still are? Not even close. So here's the deal. I'll let myself be subjected to all the humiliation and abuse that was heaped on terrorists at Abu Ghraib or Gitmo, and the critics can let themselves be subject to captivity by the Muslims, who tortured and beheaded Daniel Pearl in Pakistan, or the Muslims who tortured and murdered Marine Lt. Col. William Higgins in Lebanon, or the Muslims who ran the blood-spattered Al Qaeda torture rooms our troops found in Iraq, or the Muslims who cut off the heads of schoolgirls in Indonesia, because the girls
were Christian. Then we'll compare notes. British and American soldiers are the only troops in history that civilians came to for help and handouts, instead of hiding from in fear.

I'm tired of people telling me that their party has a corner on virtue and the other party has a corner on corruption. Read the papers; bums are bipartisan. And I'm tired of people telling me we need bipartisanship. I live in Illinois , where the "Illinois Combine" of Democrats has worked to loot the public for years. Not to mention the tax cheats in Obama's cabinet.

I'm tired of hearing wealthy athletes, entertainers and politicians of both parties talking about innocent mistakes, stupid mistakes or youthful mistakes, when we all know they think their only mistake was getting caught.

I'm tired of people with a sense of entitlement, rich or poor.

Speaking of poor, I'm tired of hearing people with air-conditioned homes, color TVs and two cars called poor. The majority of Americans didn't have that in 1970, but we didn't know we were "poor." The poverty pimps have to keep changing the definition of poor to keep the dollars flowing.

I'm real tired of people who don't take responsibility for their lives and actions. I'm tired of hearing them blame the government, or discrimination or big-whatever for their problems.

Yes, I'm damn tired. But I'm also glad to be 63. Because, mostly, I'm not going to have to see the world these people are making. I'm just sorry for my granddaughter.

Robert A. Hall is a Vietnam Veteran (Marines) who served five terms in the Massachusetts State Senate. His blog can be read here: "

Monday, March 15, 2010

I want to share with you all what I have been reading, and will post a weekly update of the books I finished

That being said, here are the books I completed last week:

The English Patient (ISBN:978-0679745204)

A Bride Most Begrudging (ISBN: 978-0764200724


Friday, March 05, 2010

we'd a late winter snowfall
last night, and a quiet night
no wind to stir the branches
nor breeze to craze the entire-filled chain link
(each now a study in lacework)
all lines of sight stand out in relief
every thing muted to black and white
I scraped the walk
in the colorless silence
my dampened steel blade ringing
in close proximity
After I was done, I let the dog out
and stood watching the new cornices on the roof
(where yesterday there were none!)
A crack then, from the neighbor's Elm
and I waited, watching the tree
a slight breath of wind began to stir
three more times the tree spoke out
each single crack, spaced some minutes in between
that single syllable spoken in the stillness
each time breaking the nervous silence between us
and suddenly the Sumac between us shook itself
and loosened a branch load of snow to the ground
interrupting our tacit exchange
meantime the flakes continued to fall
on this late winter day of March
building up, breaking down, transcending everything


Thursday, March 04, 2010

Quote of the Day

"The true God is a living, intelligent, and powerful being. His duration reaches from eternity to eternity; His presence from infinity to infinity. He governs all things."-Sir Isaac Newton

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

we children of a blessed clime
drinking mead from golden horns
so many grapes spilling across our chins
that each wears pearly beards of fruit

what plenty in this place
so much and more, a moveable feast
3.79 million square miles
far hills lost to the curve of the earth

so strange the virgin land once was
no blade had cut that new found loam
and dusty years belied it's new world youth
languidly lost in tales of time

How now this aged place become
the dirty fields and oily roads
those youthful years so far behind
and sighing, sets it down to rest

how like a life this land has grown
how anthropomorphic in it's age
that it's bones should be human and old
fissures and liver spots, loss of hair

where is that bride of my youth?
oh where the America of olden dreams
that austere continent, whos dark thatches
remained blushingly hid, not brazenly open

time changes place, and space
new mead carries semblances to the taste of old
and romance and longing for a time unknown
longs to supplant that root to my own place

today I wonder at today's own morn
this bit of time I call the present;
a time when things and jealousies rule
and lands and homes carry less and less

what plenty abides still in this land!
so much and more, a moveable feast
and we children rasied at this table edge
unknowing famine for that cust of bread

mark us out oh mighty God
true owner of that golden horn
give each of us our daily scone
and place thy hands upon our crowns

remake this land a mighty place
a changing place both tumultuous and calm
and wake this beauty from dusty age of sleep
to raise her banners up to the skies


How to Find Happiness: 7 Timeless Tips from the Last 2500 Years

Some of my favorites:

"Most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be." -Abraham Lincoln

"Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself, in your way of thinking." -Marcus Aurelius Antoninus

"The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance, the wise grows it under his feet." -James Oppenheim

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." -Mark Twain