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the beauty of paradox
Poops could never make it as an accountant or some other kind of numbers cruncher because, well..I see too much gray in life and it takes someone versed in that sort of thing to do the math. The personality tests have all shown me to be a pure idealist with a dash of wild thang and nice girl mixed in for good measure. Put me on the streets and I'd last about ten minutes in a fight for food. I'd be the one sittin' on the church steps waiting for Mrs. Puckett to show up and dole out the groceries for the day. She was the secretary for years and years and if you passed the test with her, it was all good.

There was a large dose of Mrs. P tucked under my wing when Big Ernie came to call and told me about the least of these and how you have to meet 'em halfway...preferably where they are, like Jesus did. That has involved a lot of lessons in being non-judgemental over the years while listening for the flutter of angel wings. Fortunately for me and mine, the distraction of big money, fame and power have been a non-factor. None of us much get into that kind of thing, thanks to our humble raisin'. We're a peaceful sort who love nothing better than watching stuff grow and die and be born again in a somewhat different form. The comfort of the changing of the seasons is something that never ceases to bring peace to my soul.

During the past few years there has been a movement that urges us to believe that by opposing the war we are showing a lack of support for our troops. Nothing could be further from the truth, y'all. Really. In the magical world of paradox, we support the US military by opposing an invasion that put each and every one of them in harm's way with very little of what they needed to do the job at hand. Pictures of American GI's holding wounded Iraqis and weeping tell me one thing about this "war on terror" and it seems to be all about the beauty of compassion and empathy miles away from home in a desert hellhole where cultural differences come to a climax in gunfire and bombing. There are women and children and peaceful men there who believe that we will make a difference for them, and indeed we have. But they are outnumbered by the evil of the ones who are consumed with what they view as the honor of Jihad.

BabyGirl had to do a report on American History X for one of her sociology classes. Me and the critters laid down on her bed and watched the hatred and violence unfold even while the good guys learned their lessons and tried to live different lives. Anger and distrust toward those who are different from us is something that is passed on through the generations and bred into those who have no identity or self worth. "It has always been thus and so."


I'm glad I wasn't raised that way, which was an unusual thing during the fifties and sixties of the Old South. Back then, as now....our families have lived together in the community of Samaria Bend as colorblind as a bunch of bats.

There's a story in there somewhere. I hope I can do it justice.

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