Author Archives: roodog63

About roodog63

https://roosrealworld.wordpress.com/about/ Or if you don't want to follow the link: Basically pragmatic at the age of 50; I now find myself with a very different perspective on life. Perhaps it is midlife but I feel a new world has opened before me. My new circumstances have allowed me time to regroup and look at what I can REALLY contribute to society. My puzzle is now is how to do just that with the abilities with which I have been blessed. The answer is there. The process of getting to that answer is my new adventure. I am enjoying these daily discoveries since breaking out of the box. I love seeing the world anew. Why Roo? Roo became my online tag way way back in the day of local chat rooms. At a loss for a tag that gave no insight into my real identity, you know the old A/S/L deal. I went with my dogs nickname…Roodog. Overtime Roodog was shortened to Roo. Now most of my posts, avatars or websites have Roo in the title somewhere. Rex the original Roodog (1996-2005). You can read one of Rex’s exploits (from 1997) at the Bad Dog Chronicles http://www.baddogs.com/bdc/viewstory.cfm?storyid=1484

Whirlpool, Why Hast Thou Forsaken Me?

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It’s interesting how as we age our priorities change. This especially true when it comes to appliances, both large and small. Saturday: I went to do some washing and when I finally meandered down to the basement I was met with the dryer in use. Now my short term memory is not the best but I knew I did not put anything in the dryer that day. Puzzled, I looked at the dryer wondering if Ed had done some laundry. How odd I thought, none of his baskets were down there.

I recalled the last time I had put a load of towels in there was…well a long time ago. I never fetched them because I was too lazy and we already had clean ones. Let me share something here. I have an obsession with bath towels. Currently in this household there are only two of us who bathe voluntarily and regularly. (Miss Lulu is not a happy bather.) Currently we have enough towels for a rugby team to use every day of the week and still have some left over.

I believe this towel hoarding stems from my childhood when we each had a towel, one towel per person. My parents who were germ phobic but blessed with 4 children and various pets so they devised strict rules about the sharing of personal items. Breaking the no sharing rule was a punishable offense. Being old fashioned parents the punishment was meted out according to their whim and our contriteness. But that’s another story.

Back to the towels. My childhood towel was festooned with a cat print and my brother Kevin’s towel had a dog print. I coveted his dog towel with the self-absorbed obsession any young preschooler could muster. I was not allowed to use his towel. I knew this rule. That did not mean I could not look at his towel. Seething with envy, I would furtively sneak into the closet and look at his towel. And so a towel hoarder was born.

Back to the present and the basement….Imagine my horror when I realized that our fairly new dryer (a year old) had somehow gotten stuck on tumble for ohhh I don’t know 5 days. Yeah, 5 days minimum. Can’t wait to see that electric bill. After the initial shock wore off, I said some colorful words. I then ventured to open the dryer. It was cold. Hmmm. Well this isn’t good.

I proceeded to remove the towels, which were by the way scrumptiously soft and fluffy, and turned my attention to the dryer. I must admit panic set in when my brain registered the enormity of this issue. Getting a repair man (if there even is such a service) would no doubt cost as much as a new dryer. Yet a new dryer was certainly not in the budget. I am deathly allergic to all pollen so hanging clothes out to dry is not an option. Oh Whirlpool why hast though forsaken me? I have done nothing to deserve such a tribulation.

And so I proceeded to spend the better part of an hour moving dials and looking at the dryer and turning it off and on. On and off. This setting and that setting. It was not unlike trying to open a combination lock, or so I hoped. All it did was mock me by continuing to turn unceasingly without heat. No heat, not even a warm draft. Nothing. I contemplated beating it with a 2×4 but decided that would help my frustrations but also negate any hope that the dryer may be revived. I gave it one last dirty look and went to tell Ed about the untimely malingering and imminent death of said dryer.

His reaction was not unlike mine. He inquired about the dryers behaviors and lack of behaviors and went outside to have a smoke. He contemplates the mysteries of life while smoking on the back porch. This includes repairs of appliances. I left him to muse over this predicament in peace.

All the while I tried to contain my rising panic and set about looking for answers on the internet. Most of the so called fixes I had tried already. Then I came across a how to video on youtube that described our dryers symptoms and potential remedies. I watched about 2 minutes of it and decided this was a honey do job if ever there was one. I told Ed about my research and subsequent finding. He being ever the good sport said he would watch the video and address the issue. My panic quelled to a free floating anxiety.

Ed watched the video and said he would try the 1st easiest remedy and if that did not work he would proceed down the list. Remedy #1 did not work. I have to admit at that point the panic began again. I started to look at dryers online. In doing so I began the mental masochistic lamenting of spending large sums of money on unreliable appliances.

Ed seeing my rising despair, reassured me he would attend to the rest of the remedies the following day. When I was out of the house and busy at work. Such a wise man. As I drifted off to sleep that night all I could think of was, but whirlpool is such a good brand…

Sunday: Ed assured me he would attend to the dryer after I left for work and he hoped to have it up and running by my return. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but decided that if it could be fixed, Ed would fix it. Off I went to work. At work I pushed away the intrusive thoughts about the dryer.

I was winding down my day when I got a text from Ed, “Just finished my laundry. Dryer is functioning within prescribed limits. I love you.” I actually did a little happy dance. I was honestly shocked at the immense relief I felt knowing that the dryer was working! I haven’t been quite so enthusiastically animated in quite some time. How awesome is it that a working dryer can make one so very, very happy!

You, Ed McCarthy are my hero. Oh savior of major appliances and calmer of womanly panic. I love you!

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Let this be a cautionary tale, if you replace your roof either board the dog or prepare to drink heavily.

Lulu has taken to her bed.

Lulu has taken to her bed.

Lulu and I survived the installation of the new main and front porch roof. When the roofers arrived at the ungodly hour of 6:30 am they began removing the old shingles. This activity produced a sensation of the house shaking and swaying. It was like being on some godforsaken carnival ride, the kind you agree to ride to appease a 5 yr. old. The sort of ride were once seated you begin to question your own ability to gauge personal safety. Then before you know it the ride ramps up and you find yourself fervently praying that the carnies tightened all of the nuts and bolts. Throughout the duration of the ride you envision yourself being thrown like a sack of wet cement onto the unforgiving blacktop. That kind of ride.

Lulu and I being accustomed to a stationary structure around us found this shaking sensation very unsettling. Then there was a lull in the shaking and old shingles began raining down past the windows. At first this new development intrigued Lulu. I expect she thought it was a new sort of prey to be hunted and killed. Her intrigue was short lived. The shaking began again. It should be noted that upon the shaking of the house,the forbidden tootsie roll makers (the cats) exited the premises like rats abandoning a sinking ship. Their loyalties are best summed up as conditional. Lulu however, being loyal, stayed by my side.

Needless to say we survived the house shaking. As the roofing efforts continued the shaking was replaced by the sound of the nail gun. For those of you unfamiliar with the noise a nail gun produces; the closest I can approximate it to would be the sound of small arms munitions going off in successive volleys, for hour after hour after hour. This racket was accompanied by the sound of an air compressor. It was thumping along like rotors on a deranged helicopter. All of this was punctuated by Lulus near continuous, stacco, backwards barking.

The noise continued unabated for hours like some sort of medieval form of torture. My nerves were frazzled and Lulu was exhausted. When I saw the bossman arrive to collect payment I was relieved. It isn’t often that I am happy to hand over large sums of money to others but today was different. The bossman accepted the payment and regaled me with the wonders of the new shingles as I signed the invoice. He told me that the shingles came with a 50 yr. guarantee. I looked up at him, pen still in hand and giggled. I think I may have scared him when I said with an obvious hint of delight, “Ohhh that means they will outlive me!” He smiled quietly and told me I could keep the pen I had used to sign the invoice. No doubt he was hoping I would be distracted from the topic of my previous comment.

In retrospect, I suppose he did not know how to interpret my delight that the shingles would outlive me. Little did he know I was not excited at the prospect of my own mortality but simply giddy that I would not be experiencing such a day again. I, thinking the project near completion was devastated to hear him say, “Oh and we will be finished here in another 2 or 3 hours.” My happiness collapsed into a weary wave of despair. I shook my head in affirmation of his comment and walked back into the house. The next few hours passed as did the preceding ones, in an unrelenting nerve wracking cacophony of noise.

Once the roofers were packed up and left the premises the cats nonchalantly wandered back into the house like nothing happened. Lulu has taken to her bed in a state of utter exhaustion. Tomorrow she will be happy to see us go to work so that she can sleep all day. I am hoping that the shingles do indeed last 50 yrs or more! Next project, painting the porch! Quietly.

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The Exploitation of Tragedy

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In the wake of the recent tragedy in California the mainstream media has begun the blame game complete with the exploitation of the grieving and call for gun control. Instead of winging blame around let us try and look at this tragedy from a rational point of view. The problem is too complicated to address by blaming guns or “affulenza”. Elliot Rodger was obviously very mentally ill. By all accounts his parents knew this and were trying to do something about it. Concerned about his actions and disturbing videos they called police to check on him. The police who went to his door for a wellness check did not have the expertise to accurately assess Rodger mental state. This lack of expertise was not the fault of the police but of the broken mental health system that predominates this country.

Our mental health system is broken. At this point the only thing holding it together is the hard work of mental health professionals, the families of the mentally ill, recovering mentally ill individuals and mental health advocates. No the system is broken due to the lack of funding and understanding of mental illness.  No political power wants to allocate the appropriate funding to fix the system and help the mentally ill. The political and economic powers of the country have instead opted to take a reactive stance. It is cheaper to pay off families of those who who get killed than it is to spend the billions of dollars to fix the mental health system.

Rodger was under a Doctor and therapist care. It must be pointed out that even with the best talk or cognitive behavioral therapy many mental illnesses need be treated with medication too. Just as some cases of diabetes must be treated with insulin. Rodger was reported as being non med compliant (he would not take the prescribed psychiatric medication needed to control his delusions). This factor may have been the tipping point for this young man. If he had taken his prescribed antipsychotics his delusions may have been less severe and thus his reactions may have been non violent. I say “may” as none of us can with 100% accuracy tell what could have been or what will be.  Had Rodgers been admitted to a long term residential psychiatric hospital, had proper medication given and taken as prescribed and intensive long term therapy there is better than a good chance that this tragedy would not have occurred. But due to our current mental health system this scenario did not happen.

Regardless of how much money or power one possess, it is difficult to cope with an adult who has severe mental illness such as Rodgers.  One cannot simply “lock up” a mentally ill person nor can they make an adult take prescribed medication. The current mental health laws often allow people who are very unstable to be in the general population. I am not advocating for locking up the mentally ill but for a system that does what is in the best interest of the mentally ill person and society. The current system is written with more concern for a persons right to be in the least restrictive environment than in the person’s right to proper and effective help for their problems.

Sadly instead of focusing on the plight of the mentally ill and their families and in this case the victims too, the media reacts like a pack of wolves clambering for a bite of sensationalism to up their ratings. Like ambulance chasing lawyers, the gun control advocates continue to take advantage of any crisis that comes across their paths. As it has been put forth time and again, why waste a good tragedy or crisis? So instead of placing the focus on the true cause of the tragedy, a broken mental health system, the onus has once again been placed upon an inanimate object, a gun.

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What Is That Noise?

What is that noise? That was my question today when I was in the downstairs powder room. Now I am generally on the ball and pretty good at distinguishing noises in my environment; but not in the morning and definitely not this morning. (I am good for nothing in the morning really and as a safety precaution should be given wide berth.) 

Anyway, the noise sounded like the toilet was running. So I took the lid off of the back of the toilet and looked inside and nothing. I did a test flush and nothing. Hmmmm, I looked around the room and in the kitchen and by God there was that noise; still going on and on and on….woosh, woosh, woosh. So I ran downstairs and looked all around the basement and I could hear it still….OMG where is that noise coming from??? 

Ackkkk screw the noise I had to get to an appointment and I couldn’t be late for it let alone miss it. As I left the house I took comfort in knowing that at least there was no flooding anywhere in the house. I engaged in some happy magical thinking that it was the sound of ice and snow melting outside…fast, really fast moving melting, in freezing temperatures because that could happen maybe somehow…. and I went on my way.

I came home and totally forgot about the noise and went about my way for 5 hours plus. About 3:30 I went back into the powder room and OMG! THAT NOISE! OMG! I had forgotten about the noise. It was still there. I said a few colorful expletives about my memory, home ownership and life in general because a loud watery noise continuing throughout the day well…nothing good could come of that.

Now that it was afternoon and I had my wits about me and the ability to engage in deductive reasoning, I had an epiphany and decided that noise was coming from the back yard. So off I trundled onto the back porch to see if perhaps my hunch was correct. Ummmmm yep. The outside pipe to the hose had cracked and was spraying like a parisian fountain.

After a moment of sheer panic, which was odd it wasn’t like this was a life threatening event; I of course thought plumber, I need a plumber. Then I thought no no, I need to shut the water off to the pipe. However seeing that most of my choices today were untimely and obviously wrong I decided to call Ed as he is my sanity litmus test (God love him). He agreed that turning off the water main to the outside pipe was indeed a prudent solution. After a meeting of minds (Ed and I) it was decided to wait until spring to have the outside hose pipe fixed as why chance having it break again this winter. Next fall I will turn the water main to the hose pipe off, I hope, if I remember…see this is why I am not a brain surgeon, because if I was there would be a lot of people out there walking sideways and drooling while watery noises play in the background.

 

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The Only Equality We Have Are Our Differences: Why the Super Bowl Coke Commercial Rankled People.

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The Super Bowl Coke commercial has rubbed many people the wrong way, myself included. In this reactionary climate where everyone cries foul or racism or sexism over the smallest comment many have lost the ability to look at issues in an intellectual and non-blaming manner. Many have lost the ability to explain why something bothers them without getting into divisive two party arguments. Before jumping on the left or right bandwagon take time to read and think about this essay, please do not just react to it.

I have an idea of why the commercial bothered many people. The Coke commercials use of different languages singing America the Beautiful perpetuates a recent change in social engineering. A change that many of us feel uncomfortable with but do not really know why.

The answer is actually quite simple. The current social climate is built upon the premise that every aspect of our lives needs to be fair. Therefore if all languages are not used the playing field is not fair. This recent push for every aspect of life to be fair sets us all up to fail. Life is not fair and it never will be. We all come into this world with different physical and intellectual abilities. In other words we all cannot and will not be tall or rich or geniuses.

The only equality we have are our differences. Those differences allow scientists to make new discoveries, writers and artists to share beautiful images with others. If we were all the same there would be no progress. Fairness and equality are not the same thing. That is the point where many have become confused.

For the past 200 plus years when immigrants came to America they viewed and employed English as equalizing and uniting factors. To learn and speak English was one of the corner stones that made immigrants into Americans. Speaking English assimilated cultures it did not exclude them. It united those from different cultures and put them on equal footing with each other. To understand each other and have the ability to communicate effectively enabled even the poorest immigrant an equal chance to succeed.

This new trend for everything to be fair divides cultures, it isolates them and it keeps non English speakers from equality. This trend for fairness rather than equality has begotten a generation of people who feel entitled and blame rather than strive to change or better themselves. I committed a crime because I’m poor and that isn’t fair. I am Korean or Sudanese and I cannot understand English therefore I cannot succeed and that isn’t fair. Keep in mind the next time someone claims things are not fair; Bill Gates, Dr. Ben Carson and Supreme Court Justice Sotomayer did not have a fair chance at succeeding in the United States of America they had an EQUAL chance of succeeding.

Perhaps we should all spend some time contemplating the difference between the concepts of fairness and equality. From the time of our countries inception until approximately two decades ago fair and equal were not synonyms. They still are not.

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City Mouse, Country Mouse: Social Engineering Attacks On Our 2nd Amendment Rights

City-Mouse-Country-MouseAs I watch the changing face of American politics I am reminded of the Aesop’s Fable of the City Mouse and Country Mouse. For those of you who do not remember reading this story in Elementary school, the basic premise is this, the City Mouse was befuddled by the Country Mouse’s ways of life and vice versa. In the story the Country Mouse choose simple fare over living in fear of the alley cat and the City Mouse chose a richer diet even though he had to fear the alley cat. In the end both agreed to go back and live their lives in the community of their choice.

Neither the City Mouse nor the Country Mouse tried to change the others community to meet their wants or alleviate their fear. They realized that to each his own. If one wishes to live an urban* lifestyle stay in the city, if one wishes to live a rural* lifestyle stay in the country. The issue now at hand is that urban America, rather than just acknowledging rural America’s different lifestyle is bent on forcing their values and ways upon those who live in the country.

One of the primary examples of this is the call for gun control. As most politicians are urban dwellers and have more constituents in the cities, they have jumped on this bandwagon and made the gun control movement into a divisive political platform. The gun control movement has gained momentum based upon the mainstream medias propagation and exploitation of fear regarding guns. The city dweller has been convinced by mainstream media that guns will eventually kill them, either by way of a mass shooting, gang crossfire or a hold up. The city dwellers have lost sight of the fact that mainstream media, in an effort to outdo each other and boost ratings want there to be unending fear. That exploitive use of fear is nothing less than fear porn. Fear porn boosts ratings.

This mass media hysteria has instilled in urban America an almost phobic fear of guns. The average city dweller now views guns as evil, almost sentient beings that are out to hurt or kill them. They have removed the shooters culpability from the equation. “If he didn’t have a gun it would not have happened”, they reason. Alas, history has proven time and time again that the person who is bent on killing will end up killing, gun or no. They reason that if gun ownership is illegal killings will not happen. This line of reasoning is absurd and based upon emotions and not facts. Drugs are illegal, as is drunk driving, but they still happen. A madman in search of a gun will find a gun just as the addict finds their drug. Just as you cannot confiscate all drugs no one will ever be able to confiscate all guns. This is reality.

Mass shootings while heinous are not a major cause of death in The United States of America. Drunk drivers kill many more people each year and yet there is no call to ban alcohol or cars. The gun has become the city dwellers’ version of the alley cat. They live in fear of what might happen.

Country dwellers view guns as utilitarian items which when used correctly serve a much needed purpose, just as a cars do. (Cars I must point out when used as weapons are just as deadly as  guns.) In the country rifles and pistols are needed. They are not optional. Each serves its own purpose. Without them the farmer could not kill wild game or varmints that are eating his crops or livestock. Without a gun a rural family may not be able to have meat on their table. Guns are an integral  part of rural life just as locks are integral part of city life.

In the country when one sees a person walking down the road in camo with a rifle in hand they do not panic. They know that the person with the rifle is hunting game not humans. As for camo, in the country camo is an acceptable clothing choice for casual dining or a trip to the shopping center. Camo is not considered to be a fashion item worn exclusively by insane murderers. In the country one expects to see dead deer on top of trucks and photos of a child’s first deer killed or an adult’s trophy buck run in the local newspaper’s sports section. That is country’s normal.

Country dwellers also know that without a gun and the ability to hunt for small and big game, many of their neighbors would go hungry. This fact is even acknowledged by rural school districts. Most rural schools country schools  are closed for the first and sometimes second day of big game season. If they did not close the attendance rate would be extremely low. Many children hunt with their parents. It is an age old tradition.

Many city dwellers are horrified that children hunt wild game, thinking it is dangerous and foolhardy to allow a child, even while supervised, use of a firearm. What city dwellers fail to realize is that in the country children are taught gun safety as a matter of course; just like the city child is taught how to ride a subway. Both children learn that until they are a certain age neither is an act to be done without a parent present. Just as one teaches a child street and bike safety so should they be taught gun safety.

Children when properly taught learn valuable lessons from hunting. Hunting wild game has rules that must be followed. Tests must be passed to prove that the child knows these rules. There are consequences for breaking the rules. The hunter must master basic environmental science. Such as where the game can be found in the environment and how it acts in its environment. Children who hunt realize that not everyone wins. Not everyone gets that trophy buck. Knowing this as a fact, the child respects the work involved in hunting and realizes that hunting wild game is more than running around the woods with a gun.

City dwellers get their food from stores, they are far removed from the process by which the meat got to their plates. Country dwellers know that meat does not magically appear packaged in plastic, but that it comes from an animal that was once alive. The animal’s death provides the meat. The animal does not kill and skin and butcher itself, a human must do this.

Unlike a video game, when a hunter kills a real animal it is not a clean sterile just walk away from it scenario. The animal bleeds, it stinks, and urine and feces flow out of it. The animal must be field dressed in order to be removed from the woods. Field dressing game is unpleasant work. It involves gutting the animal by opening its belly, draining the blood and hand removing the still warm inner organs. The process of hunting and dressing game does not make the hunter into a crazed murderer. If it did there would be literally 100’s of thousands of people running amok with guns. No the hunter gains an understanding of the circle of life and what it entails for all involved. The hunter learns respect for the animal and the gun.

City dwellers like the City Mouse have their ways of life, but those ways of life should not be forced upon others nor should the city dwellers mass media manufactured fears infringe upon anyone else’s way of life. To each his own.

*Urban=large cities and their surrounding suburbs
*Rural= country and small towns

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Adopt or Foster a Senior Pet

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This is Bella, one of two cats my husband and I took into our home after my Mother went into the Nursing home.

My Mother was still quite healthy and living independently at the age of 85. She resided in a one bedroom apartment about 40 minutes from our home. At the age of 85, yes 85 years old, my Mother unbeknownst to me, went and bought two kittens from a pet store. When I discovered this I was shocked that at her age she not only had 2 tiny new kittens but that she purchased them from a pet store. My Mother then, without my knowledge took the kittens and had them declawed. During her lifetime of owning cats she never had any cat declawed. I was horrified that she did this to the kittens. These poor kittens already had 3 strikes against them before they were 3 months old. They began their life in a pet store only to be sold to an elderly woman who then had them declawed.

Within a year my Mothers physical and mental functioning plummeted dramatically and she had to move into a nursing home. She left behind two CATS with no provisions for their future. I was then faced a moral dilemma. I really did not want two more cats.  I knew full well that if these cats went to a pound or rescue they would be close to unadoptable because they weren’t cute kittens anymore and they were not really socialized.

Faced with those facts, my husband and I opted to take them to live with us and our other cats. It was not an easy transition for anyone. It took months of work to normalize Bella and Gigi’s behaviors. It took over six months for Bella and her sister Gigi to leave our second floor to explore our first floor. To this day Bella is reviled by all of the other cats, even her sister. She lacks claws to defend herself and feline social skills needed to avoid bullying from the other cats. Her only positive social interaction is with me or my husband. We are her protectors.

It is uncomfortable for some folks to contemplate their own mortality, but before adopting that cute puppy or kitten, you must. My husband and I are in our 50’s and we have decided that from this point on if we ever adopt again, we will adopt a senior pet. Anyone over the age of 60 needs to recognize the facts and risks of adopting a kitten or puppy. The average age life expectancy for a small dog or the average cat is 15 yrs. If you are 60 years or older and adopt a kitten or puppy you run the risk of having your pet outlive you.

Everyone should have plans made for the aftercare of their beloved pets. In reality though, the person who promised to adopt your pet 5 years ago may not be able to so do at the time of your death. Make sure your plans are confirmed every 6 months. Otherwise your faithful friend could end up at a shelter alone, scared, and confused. I have seen photos of these senior dogs and cats who have outlived their owners. It is heartbreaking.

I am not saying that after the age of 60 do not own pets, what I am saying is look at the risks to your pets and other options. There are thousands of senior dogs and cats out there who need homes, investigate adopting a senior pet. Or look into fostering a pet until they can find a forever home. Contact your local rescue and speak with someone who can help match your lifestyle and realistic ability to provide for a pet’s needs to an appropriate pet. If growing older with a senior pet or fostering is not realistic given your age or health then volunteer at a pet rescue.

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Giving Credit to Those Who Deserve It.

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The following is a letter to the Editor that I submitted today November 14, 2013. The letter is in response to 2 very distasteful letters to the Editor regarding the hiring of a LGBTQ coordinator at a local University.  I am blogging it so that individuals who do not access my local paper will be able to read my letter.

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I would like to thank Bloomsburg University of Pennsylvania for having the wisdom and compassion to appoint a LGBTQ Coordinator to assist the young women and men coping with challenges such as bigotry and misunderstanding. Bigotry and misunderstanding, that is sadly and quite unbelievably still present in our society. I also applaud you Mr. Barkus for accepting such a demanding job for a meager salary. A salary that I might add, that is far less than most individuals make in this geographical locale.

I would also like to express appreciation to those LGBTQ individuals who through their contributions to society have improved and saved many lives. Since the beginning of time, LGBTQ individuals have provided their contributions to society without reservation, even to those who scorned and castigated them (and by the tone of recent letters to the Editor continue to do so). For you see true humility and compassion are based upon sharing your individual gifts from God to help and support all of society, not just those who share similar views.

We as a society owe much to LGBTQ individuals. Alan Turning devised the first computer prototype and helped the Allies win WWII. Mr. Turning helped to translate German coded messages, thus saving countless American lives, soldiers’ lives, perhaps even one of your relatives’ lives!  S. Josephine Baker a physician, drastically lowered infant and child mortality rates by educating healthcare workers and Mothers about the benefits of good hygiene. Most of us are alive now because of Ms. Baker’s revolutionary ideas. Louise Pearce developed the cure for African sleeping sickness which many people, including Missionaries, faced while working in Africa. There are 1000’s of other LGBTQ individuals to whom we owe so much. I could list many of them but the 600 word limit on editorials precludes me from doing so.  I encourage you to do your own research, which you can do thanks to Mr. Turning’s technological discoveries.

To LGBTQ individuals, I appreciate your struggles and pray that you have a long, wonderful and prosperous life. Please remember for each of the people who spout hate there are far more who love and embrace all people as unique and equal.

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Installment 3 of the Claw and Fang Society: News Flash

This story has been moved to my animal specific blog http://bostonterrieradventuresblog.com

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Installment 2 of the Claw and Fang Society: Dead Chipmunk Running. He chose his fate.

This story has been moved to my animal specific blog http://bostonterrieradventuresblog.com

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