Bring Me That Horizon

Welcome to jennyweber dot com

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Home of Jenny the Pirate

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This will go better if you

check your expectations at the door.

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We're not big on logic

but there's no shortage of irony.

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 Nice is different than good.

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Oh and ...

I flunked charm school.

So what.

Can't write anything.

= Jennifer =

Causing considerable consternation
to many fine folk since 1957

Pepper and me ... Seattle 1962

  

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Belay That!

This blog does not contain and its author will not condone profanity, crude language, or verbal abuse. Commenters, you are welcome to speak your mind but do not cuss or I will delete either the word or your entire comment, depending on my mood. Continued use of bad words or inappropriate sentiments will result in the offending individual being banned, after which they'll be obliged to walk the plank. Thankee for your understanding and compliance.

= Jenny the Pirate =

Hoist The Colors

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I am a Blue Star Mother

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Insist on yourself; never imitate.

Your own gift you can present

every moment

with the cumulative force

of a whole life’s cultivation;

but of the adopted talent of another

you have only an extemporaneous

half possession.

That which each can do best,

none but his Maker can teach him.

= Ralph Waldo Emerson =

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Represent:

The Black Velvet Coat

In The Market, As It Were

 

 

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Contributor to

American Cemetery

published by Kates-Boylston

A Pistol With One Shot

Ecstatically shooting everything in sight using my beloved Nikon D3100 with AF-S DX Nikkor 18-55mm 1:3.5-5.6G VR kit lens and AF-S Nikkor 50mm f/1.8 G prime lens.

Also capturing outrageous beauty left and right with my Nikon D7000 blissfully married to my Nikkor 85mm f/1.4D AF prime glass. Don't be jeal.

And then there was the Nikon AF-S DX NIKKOR 18-200mm f:3.5-5.6G ED VR II zoom. We're done here.

Dying Is A Day Worth Living For

I am a taphophile

Word. Photo Jennifer Weber 2010

Great things are happening at

Find A Grave

If you don't believe me, click the pics.

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Dying is a wild night

and a new road.

Emily Dickinson

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REMEMBRANCE

When I am gone

Please remember me

 As a heartfelt laugh,

 As a tenderness.

 Hold fast to the image of me

When my soul was on fire,

The light of love shining

Through my eyes.

Remember me when I was singing

And seemed to know my way.

Remember always

When we were together

And time stood still.

Remember most not what I did,

Or who I was;

Oh please remember me

For what I always desired to be:

A smile on the face of God.

David Robert Brooks
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 Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many.

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Keep To The Code

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You Want To Find This
The Promise Of Redemption

Therefore seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not;

But have renounced the hidden things of dishonesty, not walking in craftiness, nor handling the word of God deceitfully; but by manifestation of the truth commending ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God.

But if our gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost:

In whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them.

For we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord; and ourselves your servants for Jesus' sake.

For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.

We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair;

Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;

Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body.

For we which live are alway delivered unto death for Jesus' sake, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh.

So then death worketh in us, but life in you.

We having the same spirit of faith, according as it is written, I BELIEVED, AND THEREFORE HAVE I SPOKEN; we also believe, and therefore speak;

Knowing that he which raised up the Lord Jesus shall raise up us also by Jesus, and shall present us with you.

For all things are for your sakes, that the abundant grace might through the thanksgiving of many redound to the glory of God.

For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.

For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory;

While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.

II Corinthians 4

Freedom is a fragile thing and is never more than one generation away from extinction. It is not ours by inheritance; it must be fought for and defended constantly by each generation, for it comes only once to a people. Those who have known freedom and then lost it, have never known it again.

~ Ronald Reagan

Photo Jennifer Weber 2010

Not Without My Effects

My Compass Works Fine

The Courage Of Our Hearts

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Daft Like Jack

 "I can name fingers and point names ..."

And We'll Sing It All The Time
  • Elements Series: Fire
    Elements Series: Fire
    by Peter Kater
  • Danny Wright Healer of Hearts
    Danny Wright Healer of Hearts
    by Danny Wright
  • Grace
    Grace
    Old World Records
  • The Hymns Collection (2 Disc Set)
    The Hymns Collection (2 Disc Set)
    Stone Angel Music, Inc.
  • Always Near - A Romantic Collection
    Always Near - A Romantic Collection
    Real Music
  • Copia
    Copia
    Temporary Residence Ltd.
  • The Poet: Romances for Cello
    The Poet: Romances for Cello
    Spring Hill Music
  • Nightfall
    Nightfall
    Narada Productions, Inc.
  • Rachmaninoff plays Rachmaninoff
    Rachmaninoff plays Rachmaninoff
    RCA
  • The Pity Party: A Mean-Spirited Diatribe Against Liberal Compassion
    The Pity Party: A Mean-Spirited Diatribe Against Liberal Compassion
    by William Voegeli
  • The Art of Memoir
    The Art of Memoir
    by Mary Karr
  • The Gorgeous Nothings: Emily Dickinson's Envelope Poems
    The Gorgeous Nothings: Emily Dickinson's Envelope Poems
    by Emily Dickinson
  • Among The Dead: My Years in The Port Mortuary
    Among The Dead: My Years in The Port Mortuary
    by John W. Harper
  • On Writing Well, 30th Anniversary Edition: The Classic Guide to Writing Nonfiction
    On Writing Well, 30th Anniversary Edition: The Classic Guide to Writing Nonfiction
    by William Zinsser
  • Green Hell: How Environmentalists Plan to Control Your Life and What You Can Do to Stop Them
    Green Hell: How Environmentalists Plan to Control Your Life and What You Can Do to Stop Them
    by Steven Milloy
  • The Amateur
    The Amateur
    by Edward Klein
  • Hating Jesus: The American Left's War on Christianity
    Hating Jesus: The American Left's War on Christianity
    by Matt Barber, Paul Hair
  • In Praise of Stay-at-Home Moms
    In Praise of Stay-at-Home Moms
    by Dr. Laura Schlessinger
  • Where Are They Buried (Revised and Updated): How Did They Die? Fitting Ends and Final Resting Places of the Famous, Infamous, and Noteworthy
    Where Are They Buried (Revised and Updated): How Did They Die? Fitting Ends and Final Resting Places of the Famous, Infamous, and Noteworthy
    by Tod Benoit
  • Bird Brains: The Intelligence of Crows, Ravens, Magpies, and Jays
    Bird Brains: The Intelligence of Crows, Ravens, Magpies, and Jays
    by Candace Savage
  • Gifts of the Crow: How Perception, Emotion, and Thought Allow Smart Birds to Behave Like Humans
    Gifts of the Crow: How Perception, Emotion, and Thought Allow Smart Birds to Behave Like Humans
    by John Marzluff Ph.D., Tony Angell
  • Righteous Indignation: Excuse Me While I Save the World!
    Righteous Indignation: Excuse Me While I Save the World!
    by Andrew Breitbart
  • 11 Principles of a Reagan Conservative
    11 Principles of a Reagan Conservative
    by Paul Kengor
  • Mind of the Raven: Investigations and Adventures with Wolf-Birds
    Mind of the Raven: Investigations and Adventures with Wolf-Birds
    by Bernd Heinrich
  • Talking Heads: The Vent Haven Portraits
    Talking Heads: The Vent Haven Portraits
    by Matthew Rolston
  • Mortuary Confidential: Undertakers Spill the Dirt
    Mortuary Confidential: Undertakers Spill the Dirt
    by Todd Harra, Ken McKenzie
  • America's Steadfast Dream
    America's Steadfast Dream
    by E. Merrill Root
  • Good Dog, Carl : A Classic Board Book
    Good Dog, Carl : A Classic Board Book
    by Alexandra Day
  • Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation
    Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation
    by Lynne Truss
  • The American Way of Death Revisited
    The American Way of Death Revisited
    by Jessica Mitford
  • In Six Days : Why Fifty Scientists Choose to Believe in Creation
    In Six Days : Why Fifty Scientists Choose to Believe in Creation
    Master Books
  • Architects of Ruin: How big government liberals wrecked the global economy---and how they will do it again if no one stops them
    Architects of Ruin: How big government liberals wrecked the global economy---and how they will do it again if no one stops them
    by Peter Schweizer
  • Grave Influence: 21 Radicals and Their Worldviews That Rule America From the Grave
    Grave Influence: 21 Radicals and Their Worldviews That Rule America From the Grave
    by Brannon Howse
  • Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow: The Tragic Courtship and Marriage of Paul Laurence Dunbar and Alice Ruth Moore
    Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow: The Tragic Courtship and Marriage of Paul Laurence Dunbar and Alice Ruth Moore
    by Eleanor Alexander
Easy On The Goods
  • Waiting for
    Waiting for "Superman"
    starring Geoffrey Canada, Michelle Rhee
  • The Catered Affair (Remastered)
    The Catered Affair (Remastered)
    starring Bette Davis, Ernest Borgnine, Debbie Reynolds, Barry Fitzgerald, Rod Taylor
  • Bernie
    Bernie
    starring Jack Black, Shirley MacLaine, Matthew McConaughey
  • Remember the Night
    Remember the Night
    starring Barbara Stanwyck, Fred MacMurray, Beulah Bondi, Elizabeth Patterson, Sterling Holloway
  • The Ox-Bow Incident
    The Ox-Bow Incident
    starring Henry Fonda, Dana Andrews, Mary Beth Hughes, Anthony Quinn, William Eythe
  • The Bad Seed
    The Bad Seed
    starring Nancy Kelly, Patty McCormack, Henry Jones, Eileen Heckart, Evelyn Varden
  • Shadow of a Doubt
    Shadow of a Doubt
    starring Teresa Wright, Joseph Cotten, Macdonald Carey, Patricia Collinge, Henry Travers
  • The More The Merrier
    The More The Merrier
    starring Jean Arthur, Joel McCrea, Charles Coburn, Bruce Bennett, Ann Savage
  • Act of Valor
    Act of Valor
    starring Alex Veadov, Roselyn Sanchez, Nestor Serrano
  • Deep Water
    Deep Water
    starring Tilda Swinton, Donald Crowhurst, Jean Badin, Clare Crowhurst, Simon Crowhurst
  • Sunset Boulevard
    Sunset Boulevard
    starring William Holden, Gloria Swanson, Erich Von Stroheim, Nancy Olson, Fred Clark
  • Penny Serenade
    Penny Serenade
    starring Cary Grant, Irene Dunne, Edgar Buchanan, Beulah Bondi
  • Double Indemnity
    Double Indemnity
    starring Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck, Edward G. Robinson, Porter Hall, Jean Heather
  • Ayn Rand and the Prophecy of Atlas Shrugged
    Ayn Rand and the Prophecy of Atlas Shrugged
    starring Gary Anthony Williams
  • Fat Sick & Nearly Dead
    Fat Sick & Nearly Dead
    Passion River
  • It Happened One Night (Remastered Black & White)
    It Happened One Night (Remastered Black & White)
    starring Clark Gable, Claudette Colbert
  • Stella Dallas
    Stella Dallas
    starring Barbara Stanwyck, John Boles, Anne Shirley, Barbara O'Neil, Alan Hale
  • The Iron Lady
    The Iron Lady
    starring Meryl Streep, Jim Broadbent, Harry Lloyd, Anthony Head, Alexandra Roach
  • Wallace & Gromit: The Complete Collection (4 Disc Set)
    Wallace & Gromit: The Complete Collection (4 Disc Set)
    starring Peter Sallis, Anne Reid, Sally Lindsay, Melissa Collier, Sarah Laborde
  • The Red Balloon (Released by Janus Films, in association with the Criterion Collection)
    The Red Balloon (Released by Janus Films, in association with the Criterion Collection)
    starring Red Balloon
  • Stalag 17 (Special Collector's Edition)
    Stalag 17 (Special Collector's Edition)
    starring William Holden, Don Taylor, Otto Preminger, Robert Strauss, Harvey Lembeck
  • The Major and the Minor (Universal Cinema Classics)
    The Major and the Minor (Universal Cinema Classics)
    starring Ginger Rogers, Ray Milland
  • My Dog Skip
    My Dog Skip
    starring Frankie Muniz, Diane Lane, Luke Wilson, Kevin Bacon
  • Sabrina
    Sabrina
    starring Humphrey Bogart, Audrey Hepburn, William Holden, Walter Hampden, John Williams
  • The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer
    The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer
    starring Cary Grant, Myrna Loy, Shirley Temple, Rudy Vallee, Ray Collins
  • Pirates of the Caribbean - The Curse of the Black Pearl (Two-Disc Collector's Edition)
    Pirates of the Caribbean - The Curse of the Black Pearl (Two-Disc Collector's Edition)
    starring Johnny Depp, Geoffrey Rush, Orlando Bloom, Keira Knightley, Jack Davenport
  • Now, Voyager (Keepcase)
    Now, Voyager (Keepcase)
    starring Bette Davis, Paul Henreid, Claude Rains, Gladys Cooper, John Loder
  • The Trip To Bountiful
    The Trip To Bountiful
  • Hold Back the Dawn [DVD] Charles Boyer; Olivia de Havilland; Paulette Goddard
    Hold Back the Dawn [DVD] Charles Boyer; Olivia de Havilland; Paulette Goddard
That Dog Is Never Going To Move

~ RIP JAVIER ~

1999-2016

Columbia's Finest Chihuahua

Simple. Easy To Remember.

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Tuesday
Mar302010

He, A Rose

Angel bunny. Photo Jennifer Weber 2009

I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys.  ~Song of Solomon 2:1

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When I was a little girl I was not taken to church. I learned exactly two things about organized religion as a child: one, we were not Catholic; two, we were Baptists. My mother imparted this knowledge to me in a course of events completely unrelated to any stripe of faith-based instruction.

The non-Catholic part I learned when, as a grade-schooler, I picked out a St. Christopher medal on a neck chain for my mother's Christmas present.

She had a taste for fine jewelry and I was even then a person of refinement.

But the cashier at our local K-Mart was brought up short when my mother, spying the trinket in my hand along with a sweaty dollar, told her we wouldn't be buying it.

"We're not Catholic," she explained in a low voice.

The cashier stashed my wholly inappropriate gift choice under the counter as she and my mother shared a conspiratorial chuckle at my expense.

That must have spurred me, ever the inquisitive one, to demand of my mother as we walked home exactly what we were, if not Catholic (a word which meant nothing to me).

"We're Baptists," she said.

But if you'd been witness to the lack of activity around our house at any time church services were being held in the community, I am certain you would have been justified in questioning the depth of our piety.

To put it plainly, Sunday mornings were for sleeping in, eating a late breakfast, and reading the funnies in living color. Later in the day you might sortie with your family, ending up at the beach or a drive-in movie.

Someday I will live there too.

The occasional Easter Sunday would, however, find our strange little clan bedecked in homemade finery -- to include hats of plastic straw and shiny white vinyl shoes with matching purses for my sister and me -- and ensconced for an uneasy hour in the back row of some packed-out local sanctuary or other.

I remember nothing about these visits to places of worship because they are memorable only for their marked infrequency.

My sister and I always received Easter candy in abundance, however. Our parents were generous and downright ceremonious when it came to the presentation and distribution of chocolate bunnies, jelly beans -- indeed, Easter candy of every variation -- the sugar blitz mitigated somewhat by the heavy, brightly-colored real eggs nestled in the shreds of synthetic "grass" that lined our baskets.

I can still smell the hot vinegar and see the little stemmed plastic loop one used to fish the stained eggs out of the steaming, garishly-hued liquid that had transformed them from plain white ovals into psychedelic freaks of nature.

(Nothing like a good hardboiled egg -- any shade of shell -- eaten standing by the sink, studded with grains of salt from a puddle in your palm.)

But at the age of fourteen, by God's grace, I learned the truth about Easter. That was when I recognized my need for a Savior and was told that my need had been met long before I existed, in the person of Jesus Christ. I accepted His finished work on the cross as being sufficient for my salvation, and I'm so glad I did.

From that day until this I have never doubted that Jesus Christ rose from the dead on the third day after His crucifixion, and that He lives in a real, actual Heaven with God, His Father, and that someday I will live there too.

I was privileged to marry a man who had come to the Lord at the age of twenty-two, and who, like me, wanted to establish a Christian home and rear children who would be taught the true meaning of Easter.

In the spring of 1998 our eldest daughter, Stephanie, had an opportunity to visit London and the Holy Land. Then a senior in high school, she had professed her faith in Christ as a six-year-old. When she returned home around Easter time, we all gathered in the family room to listen to her stories and receive the gifts she had brought us from abroad.

We hadn't been seated long when Stephanie began telling us about the day the group visited the "garden tomb" -- a borrowed sepulchre where the body of Jesus Christ had been placed after the crucifixion:

When the even was come, there came a rich man of Arimathaea, named Joseph, who also himself was Jesus' disciple: He went to Pilate, and begged the body of Jesus. Then Pilate commanded the body to be delivered. And when Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock: and he rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed. ~Matthew 27:57-60

And yes, I'm a Baptist. 

As she described the ancient place, I began to play the skeptic. "How can anyone be sure that's the very tomb where Jesus's body lay for three days before His resurrection?" I wanted to know.

After all, it was a long time ago. Had the merchants made an appeal to her tender, sympathetic heart, wanting her to buy something? Just outside the place they identify as the borrowed tomb, they will try to sell you a splinter, claiming the very cross of Jesus as its provenance.

Religion is big business.

Stephanie, patiently and with the aplomb of a seasoned traveler, explained that even though it occurred more than two thousand years ago, Bible scholars and historians are fairly certain that they have correctly identified the very tomb made available by Joseph of Arimathaea for securing the remains of Jesus.

I must have continued to register doubt, because suddenly my daughter burst into tears.

"Mom," she said. "All I can say is that when you stand there, you just know that it really is the place."

We were all in tears by then. I handed Stephanie a Kleenex and she wept into it. I still have that long-dry tissue, stored away amongst other mementoes of her trip.

Today Stephanie is a (Baptist) pastor's wife and the mother of two little girls who will always know the true meaning of Easter. Although her tears have long since evaporated, her words -- and the conviction with which she spoke them -- still resonate with me.

I don't eat chocolate bunnies on Easter anymore -- although I am not averse to consuming a raft of marshmallow peeps at one sitting -- but I do go to church on Easter. On that day I rejoice that Christ arose ... just as I do every other Sunday.

And yes, I'm a Baptist. I learned that on the way home from K-mart one day, my sweaty unspent dollar burning a hole in my pocket.

The Garden Tomb. AP PhotoIn the end of the sabbath, as it began to dawn toward the first day of the week, came Mary Magdalene and the other Mary to see the sepulchre. And, behold, there was a great earthquake: for the angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it. His countenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow: And for fear of him the keepers did shake, and became as dead men.

And the angel answered and said unto the women, Fear not ye: for I know that ye seek Jesus, which was crucified. He is not here: for he is risen, as he said. Come, see the place where the Lord lay. ~Matthew 28:1-6

Jesus said ... I am the resurrection, and the life; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die. Believest thou this? ~John 11:25-26

Happy Easter!

Friday
Mar262010

A Sunday kind of love

Romance. Photo Jennifer Weber 2010I'm the poster child for hopeless romantic.

What's that you say? I'm simply hopeless?

Well, incurable romantic, then.

When it comes to romantic love, you can't get it sappy enough for me. Impossible.

To quote Mary Engelbreit: Too much of a good thing is wonderful.

(Unless you're talking about a Nicholas Sparks novel -- or the unfortunate movie adaptation of a Nicholas Sparks novel.)

There is, after all, an exception to every rule.

But I digress.

For example -- and this is the truth so listen up -- I sense romance in the produce department at the grocery store.

Like I said, no lie, and I'll thank you not to snicker.

I look at cauliflower and see a bridal bouquet. The apples are blushing flirtatiously; the bell peppers are canoodling in the cool mist. Nobody can convince me otherwise.

We live in a disposable society.

If you are out and about and you happen to see me, go ahead and tell yourself you can read my mind ... because you can.

Nine hundred ninety-nine times out of a thousand, I'm thinking about romance.

If I'm not doing that, of course I am praying. For you.

You know how most little girls dream of someday being a bride? I wasn't that kind of little girl.

As a girl I dreamt of being loved as passionately as Mr. Rochester loved Jane Eyre.

I dreamt of a Heathcliff-and-Cathy variety of romance; the kind that endures past even the gossamer scrim of time and mortality.

I've been known to brood for hours over the eternal love of Captain Gregg for Lucy Muir.

(I still cry when Lucy's young, beautiful ghost rises up from her old, withered body and she rejoins her late lamented but still-faithful man, and the door to her house by the sea opens all by itself and they walk out into the clouds, holding hands.)

That's what I'm talking about.

We live in a disposable society. Life is no longer precious, and neither are commitments. People take sacred vows before God and everybody, then break them at whatever point in time it becomes expedient for them to do so.

Things didn't work out in your marriage? Hey, don't waste your time grieving over that failure! Better yet, don't even consider it a failure. Move on, and the sooner the better.

Half of marriages end in divorce; am I right? It's no big deal anymore.

Besides, everybody who matters knows you're not to blame. It was the other person.

(News flash: God's law of sowing and reaping applies to marriage. As in, you get what you give.)

But that's how we roll in this brave new heartless world where hardly anything or anyone is safe ... even in places where once upon a time a person could take safety at least a little bit for granted, like the womb and the school room and the church house and the Christian home.

Still crazy after all these years.

By the way ... when I did begin fantasizing about marriage, I fixed my hopes on achieving an Austenesque "incandescent" one.

Because I know that, although Miss Austen's heroines are fictional, those kinds of marriages do exist.

For purely magical romantic mystery, only a few occasions in my life rival the moment when I looked through the little oblong window in the vestibule door at Forrest Hills Baptist Church in Decatur, Georgia, at high noon on June 16, 1979, and saw TG standing at the altar, waiting for me.

Standing there tall and handsome in black cutaway tails, waiting for me to come to him so that he could make me his wife.

Because although he probably could have survived without me, he didn't want to.

Why, he told me just the other day ... never mind. Suffice it to say that if he can be believed, he'd still rather not live without me. And God in heaven knows, I won't make it without him either.

Still crazy after all these years.

Thanks babe, for giving me a Sunday kind of love. You're not perfect and neither is your wife, but you'll do until something better comes along ... and I can say that without a trace of irony because I know full well that nothing better ever will.

How many husbands and wives who haven't made it and who won't make it, could -- if they purposed in their respective hearts to grant one another a Sunday kind of love?

It's the one thing everyone wants to get ... and which everyone has the power to give.

If only they would.

NOTE: I apologize for the offensive Google ads that appear on the YouTube. I hate them but I've tried everything and cannot figure out how to remove the code. Just click the little "x" and it'll go away.

Tuesday
Mar232010

March Sadness

Where is my America? Photo Erica Weber 2009Springtime is a season of renewal and rejoicing. Flowers bloom; temperatures rise; balmy breezes caress grateful faces on days when nourishing showers aren't bathing the landscape in liquid hope.

Pretty pastel dresses throng the store racks in anticipation of Easter Sunday, when Christians celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

The candy aisles of retail outlets bulge with chocolate bunnies, bright jellybeans, marshmallow peeps, colorful plastic grass, egg-dyeing kits, and baskets just waiting to be filled.

Millions of sports fans spend an inordinate amount of time on their NCAA Final Four picks, and breathlessly watch the tournament unfold.

School kids get their first whiff of impending freedom as the weeks wane, the academic year which only yesterday seemed to be crawling now hurtling toward the finish line and summer vacation.

Elected lawmakers virtually spat in the faces of voters.

I, three of my children, one of my grandchildren, my son-in-law, and two of my best friends in the entire world celebrate our birthdays.

Springtime is a happy time.

But much as September 11, 2001 will  be remembered as a day as achingly beautiful as it was unspeakably terrible, history will mark March 21, 2010 as the first Sunday of spring … and the day the United States of America ceased to be a free nation.

For on that day, in a time when civil unrest ran as high as presidential approval ratings ran low, a radically far-left progressive ideologue and his godless, capitalism-hating henchpeople seized control of one-sixth of the already troubled American economy.

And they did it in the name of "healthcare," and they did it in the face of voter opposition which would have overwhelmed "public servants" possessed of more garden-variety decency and less raw, unadulterated arrogance.

Elected lawmakers virtually spat in the faces of those voters who sent them to Washington in hopes that their values would be represented and their express wishes carried out. 

Instead, much to the dismay of patriotic citizens, cultural and political vicissitudes that were to be expected with the advent of a new administration gave way to an increasingly disturbing anti-American zeitgeist.

This is how the first black President of the United States enslaved a once-free people.

As the "healthcare" debate heated up and it looked as though the votes of a few pivotal quasi-principled Democrats might deny their bloodthirsty comrades a pound of flesh, their support was systematically purchased by soulless minions whose war chest of elitist earmarks and prestigious private-sector jobs is all but infinite.

Predictably, the holdouts became sellouts.

This is how the United States of America -- heretofore a beacon of liberty to all mankind, and the most beloved Republic ever to grace Planet Earth -- succumbed to the insatiable ambition of a Chicago-style thug politician who just happens to be the most powerful man in the world.

This is how the first black President of the United States doomed an entire country to debilitating debt, hyper-intrusive bureaucracy, substandard medical care, many more years of economic recession, and unwilling participation in the cruel slaughter of innocent children.

This is how the first black President of the United States enslaved a once-free people.

It is dark; it is bitter; it is immoral. And above all, it is sad.

God Bless the United States of America. Preserve her precious liberties (what few of them remain) and confound her enemies, foreign and domestic. 

Especially domestic.

Friday
Mar192010

Leave ... and take your attitude with you

Just leaving. Photo Erica Weber 2010A Wal-Mart store in Washington Township, New Jersey, earlier this week was the scene of an outrage.

For it was there that an unidentified male availed himself -- without, one must assume, the permission of management -- of an open microphone and said, storewide:

"Attention, Wal-Mart customers. All black people leave the store now."

Judging by the reactions of shoppers of color, you'd have thought the disembodied directive had been significantly more pejorative in nature. Like, "All black people go immediately to the fields and begin picking cotton."

Despite the lameness of the "incident," high dudgeon ruled the day.

And I have no doubt that their "anger" motivated them to lawyer up.

"I want to know why such statements are being made, because it flies in the face of what we teach our children about tolerance for all," said Wal-Mart shopper Sheila E. "If this was meant to be a prank, there's only one person laughing, and it's not either one of us."

Uhm … I hate to burst your bubble, dear, but the last time I checked, most black folks weren't heavily into the concept of "tolerance" for anyone who isn't black.

And it wouldn't hurt you to laugh at a harmless prank … even if you did perceive it to be at your expense. Are you so precious you cannot be mentioned indirectly, in the abstract, by skin color, in a rogue ten-word "order" as outlandish as it is inane?

Sheila and her friend, Patricia, plan to boycott Wal-Mart until they have the retailer's "assurance" that the issue has been addressed so it "doesn't happen again."

Again I am loathe to disillusion you, but if it happened once, it could conceivably happen again. And it wouldn't harm you a second time any more than it did the first.

But the women seem determined to make a mountain of what would struggle to attain the status of miniature molehill. 

They claim they were "stunned" when they heard the announcement, and thought they had misheard. But once the words "sank in," they became angry.

And I have no doubt that their "anger" motivated them to lawyer up before they cooked up another mess of collards or mixed up another pan of cornbread.

I wouldn't think a thing of it if I were shopping at Wal-Mart and someone demanded over the PA that all females leave the store. Or all Baptists, for that matter … or all white people, or all brown-eyed people, or all left-handed people, or all Republicans, or all people wearing polka-dots, or all goldfish owners, or all Johnny Depp fans.

Or all those who believe Lee Harvey Oswald, wearing a sparkly tutu and a Superman code ring, acting alone except for a pet ferret in his back pocket, shot from the grassy knoll while sipping Ovaltine and trading baseball cards with Abraham Zapruder.

Stop thinking in terms of wounded entitlement.

Sticks and stones, luv. If I heard an announcement like that, I'd laugh out loud and keep on doing what I was doing.

I'd think to myself, just try and make me leave before I'm ready.

"Minorities" need to get over themselves. In this situation, I'll bet you a truckload of watermelons they wouldn't be so mad if the reason they were being urged to leave the building was for a sidewalk giveaway of cash, merchandise, or hairweaves.

People everywhere are starving, suffering, dying for a little bit of love. No matter the color of your skin, or how badly you think you or your ancestors have been misunderstood or mistreated, discover the freedom of forgetting yourself.

Move on, on purpose.

Put that energy to better use. Reach out to someone in need of your encouragement, your understanding, or your material largesse. 

Or, here's a really radical idea: practice some tolerance toward the person who was thoughtless enough to mash your hair-trigger buttons in the first place.

Stop thinking in terms of wounded entitlement. Stop walking around like a spoiled two-year-old with a chip on your shoulder the size of Michelle Obama's … er, biceps. 

Then you won't have either the time or the inclination to pay heed to public-address-system pranksters or anyone else who tries to get your goat … and both you and everyone else in America will be better off.

Thursday
Mar182010

Let me be clear

For some strange reason, this Subaru commercial reminds me of Bret Baier's recent interview with President Obama.

Well ... not the part about tested and approved ... and certainly not the LOVE part.

Maybe it's because he's the first president in the history of this great nation who speaks Static ... fluently.

Must be the native tongue of whatever place he came from.

By the way ... did you know that "Subaru" backwards spells "Urabus"?

And did you further know, you're about to be thrown under it?

We'd be better off with dogs driving the country.

Dogs are wise, loving, and loyal ... they are eloquent without speaking a word ... and they know how to listen.

p.s. Did you notice the "soft meat" on the menu? That yellow dog wants some so badly, he can taste it.