
Happiness is waking up Sunday morning at 4 30am on the couch, making coffee opening the fridge and there in front of you is a carton of whipping cream left over from cooking.
Oh God……… a little fat tastes so good.
Thanks Big Guy.
Some thoughts from a fellow lucky enough to have learned from some very special people that knew enough to hold tradition and common sense in their hearts and minds and pass it on. Simply because it matters.
- Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged. Part2, III
US (Russian-born) novelist (1905 - 1982)
Sixteen years ago working on a cleaning crew for a large turkey grower, I ran into a pleasant older man who worked on one of the farms. He was for the most part always smiling coming up to you and placing his hand on your shoulder striking up a jovial conversation, and showing genuine concern for who ever he was talking to. This too many wouldn’t be much of a feat, but Gupta lost his only child a daughter to boot in the Air India crash.
I remember the tone of his voice the day we where talking about it, most of the conversation is a vague memory, but I do remember him talking of his daughter, how sad his wife had become, and hearing how it was all hard for such a warm uplifting man to bear, not by his words but by how his tone of voice changed and the look on his face when he talked about the incident and the changes it brought to his life.
I was twenty four at the time and certainly felt for the man. Today forty years old and having two daughters of my own, and over time realizing that genuine inspirations that manifest themselves in the form of good men are such a rarity. I certainly hoped justice would be served or at least finally sought out by our government. Instead it has been stifled by a group of ragtag legends in their own minds, who deserve a righteous kick in the behind. Some it has to be said ,never showed up for the vote (they may or may not have a backbone) and one even had the decency to vote with others in favor of the legislation against his parties wishes staying true to what he believed.
If the current news is correct and legislation was struck down pandering to votes garnered at the recent liberal convention, we really need a set of gallows on parliament hill.
I’m no fan of the definition of terrorist combined with sweeping powers when it comes to determining whose suspect and their detention. However if it gets that bad that they have to collect disgruntled Canadians that are choking on values parroted by talking baby seals that Canadian socialists resemble, the government of the day will just think something up to make it seem on the up and up anyway.
We have sunk that far that a good men striving for integrity and selflessly projecting value onto the people they meet, even while they are under conditions of loss brought on by terrorism, can’t even be given even a genuine scrap containing some sort of closure let alone justice. Instead victims of terror are referred to as a side show.
If you find yourself asking what is happening to society, just look onto those in government that always pander to imaginary victims, and ignore the real victims too proud strong and free to raise a stink but sometimes they politely ask for some genuine concern. More times than not they are never really heard but purposely ignored along with common sense and doing the right thing.
Gupta deserved better, the time I spent with him where occasions of lightness and inspiration. I never thanked him for that I guess I was wishing the government finally would.
God only knows how brightly his daughter could have shined.
You awake in the morning not knowing what morsels are going to be found on your plate, or yanked from your grasp. One of life’s pleasures is being open enough to realize the moment some power on high chooses to serve up a delectable treat.
Christmas morning while sitting around in my apartment,with mom and dad , and my two daughters. For some reason that escapes me the subject of communism comes up.
Youngest daughter (Abby 13) – “What’s communism?”
Oldest daughter (Mags 15)- “ Its where if you have lots of money and the government takes it and gives it to people that have less, so everyone’s equal.” ( I was actually surprised she choose to comment).
Me – “Something like we have in this country.”
Oldest daughter –“ No it’s not!!”
Me – “Sure it is , our version ( socialism) is just more polite.”
Oldest daughter- silence………………
It became apparent to me that in my daughters silence, reason and maturity have taken hold. Not in the fact she chose to calmly let the matter drop ( a rarity), but you could tell she was thinking about my reply, and how true it was.
Another seed was planted that they can freely do with it as they wish.
Witnessing my daughter climb another wrung on the ladder towards maturity, was the best gift I got this Christmas.
One of the main reasons I do this on Sunday is that maybe my girls will take one day out of their busy week as mother's someday to notice how lucky they are, and pass it on to their family in their bare feet, and flour covered face. I don't see it having anything to do with government handouts, or equal rights. Nothing trumps a sweet proud woman barefoot, pregnant and cooking anyways. Its not rocket science........ simple things that really mean something to the soul usually aren't.

Darcey has a story up about a man catching a HUGE catfish which is remarkable in itself, but what I found most interesting is a story left in a comment from Fergy.
It left me to thinking how many boys these days get to go off by themselves and explore the neighbour hood stream, river or pond?
I can relate to Fergy’s story involving the big purple beasts called channel cats. The excitement , real innocent excitement as natural as a sudden thunderclap, and so eye opening you can look back years later and remember that day and unlock those wonderful feelings and memories of what it was like to be a innocent life loving boy.
I can still see those days spent back at Roder’s pond fishing for sunfish, and seeing the big looming black shape of granddaddy bass lumber close by the shore with four or five boys all chasing it casting to beat the band never being blessed by a strike. We camped their the first night Friday The Thirteenth ( number 1) played and the older boys from town scared the shit out of us, and I even kissed my first girl there (Candy was her name) and god was I innocent and stupid. I guess though that’s how nature intended it all once upon a time. Just like the day my cousin made a cast out in the middle of that two acre pond and got a bite, set the hook and eventually brought to shore a beautiful purple channel cat. Who would belief us, a channel cat this big from this pond in the middle of no where, we thought? All we had to do was land it.
Somehow I was delegated to grab the beast only knowing to well those barbs built in to the fins hurt like hell , and that was just from little bull heads. As I pictured the barbs from this big “cat” going clean thru my hand I reached out gingerly to grab the leviathan, but missed it - then the line broke and the beast defiantly slipped back into the deep. As if to say sorry you little shit’s better luck next time.
I can’t exactly remember the colorful words sent my way, if I remember right, they where very colorful, and I survived.
All this near a pond deep enough to drown in at the age of 8 to 13 and never an adult, a fence, or warning sign around we where just let be as boys, to explore.
So we could dream and weather the storm when we became men.