Who Changed The Rules?
My dad was an immigrant. He came to the United States in January 1930. Yes, just as the Great Depression was going on, and my dad’s family saw this country as the land of opportunity even during this time.
These boys grew up and started their own businesses. The ones that did not start their own businesses were somehow involved in business with their brothers. Here is the list of their entrepreneurial endeavors from this group of brothers: building contractors, land developer, inventor of the machine that makes seamless gutters, owner of HVAC company, owner and manufacturer of food processing systems, owner of of a gutter and siding installation business, and the list goes on and on.
None of this came easy for them. They worked hard to support their families and to build their businesses. The boys served the United States in the military. They appreciated what this country had done for them, and they honorably served to protect our freedoms.
When I was a little girl, I learned the “Pledge of Allegiance” and the “The Star Spangled Banner,” our national anthem, along with “America the Beautiful,” in school. It was part of our daily school life. We learned about pride of our country and those who served our country. I am very proud to be an American.
On September 11, 2001, many of our citizens of the U.S. and others around the world died from a senseless act of terrorism in New York, Pennsylvania, and Washington D.C. I remember people displaying their American flags. We began singing “God Bless America” during the 7th inning stretch of the baseball games. There was great pride in the symbol of freedom, of our country, and the courage we had to stand in the midst of our suffering.
Since these days, something has turned upside down. Our American flag was the symbol of our freedom—all the freedoms that are in the constitution, and a symbol of the American dream. It was a symbol that our veterans fought and gave their lives so we could enjoy the free speech and the right of assembly. Work hard, be honest, treat others with respect, and succeed. It never represented a president, or an administration, or a particular issue in our history. It represented the freedom for ALL in the United States of America.
I have voted in every presidential election since I became voting age. That is a lot of presidents. I didn’t vote for all winners or all losers. I have never voted one party over the other. My political leanings covered all parties. Some of our leaders I was satisfied with, but on the most part, I learned that they are all flawed. None of them will be the perfect leader. Regardless, we are required to honor whoever is in charge. We don’t have to like them, and there were plenty of presidents I did not like. My faith says that I should respect them. God has allowed these leaders in place for whatever His purpose may be. As a Christ follower, I must respect that.
I think that is the operative word — respect. People seem to have lost respect lately. Children are raised without rules. Parents want to be their buddies rather than their parents, instead of guiding them and setting boundaries for their children’s protection and to teaching them how to behave in the world. Part of parenting is setting rules (boundaries) and if not followed, consequences ensue. This will teach children how they must get along in a world where their actions, good or bad, will always have good or bad consequences.
Social media and entertainment has made fun of authority. It is no longer an honorable thing to be one in authority, it is mocked, and the children pick up this from the adults and media. They don’t have to follow any rules, there are no consequences for breaking any rules.
I quit watching sporting events and a lot of television, because I am tired of the mean-spirited action of others. I didn’t stop in this presidential administration. I did it earlier. I got tired of “satire” in which we make fun of human beings who were created in the image of God. I refuse to watch professional football because it breaks my heart that players dishonor the country that gives them the freedom to play sports and chose whatever career they want. I know we have have some deep issues that need resolving, but refusing to show respect when the national anthem is played at a sporting venue is the ultimate of disrespect to me. It hurts me deeply.
Kneeling doesn’t solve the problem that makes them angry. If you don’t like what is going on around you, run for office, volunteer to serve in your community. Remember the old saying, “You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.” You may get my attention by kneeling during the National Anthem, but you won’t win me over with that. Love, yes, love is what is needed. I will listen when someone reaches out in love. Show me you mean these things by the actions in your life. Don’t make the divide bigger, use love to close the gap. I will listen to you when you quit telling people they are wrong—and that is for everyone on all side of an issue.
Its time for adults to be adults. Entertainment to be entertainment. There is a time and a place for everything.
I love the country in which I live. It is far from perfect. It has real problems. But it is no different than the people who inhabit this country. We all have problems. We all see the world from the perspective in which we were raised, educated, and continue to be educated. It is what we call diversity. If we educate out of anger, all we teach is anger.
Right now, I am embarrassed by what I see going on in this country I love. I would just like to hide away from it all. Someone give me a call when this is over and we are all friends again. That’s what I would like to do, but that is not reality.
I am not sure how to reach out. I have struggled with this. I have come to the realization that for me it is to love whomever I come in contact. A few years ago, I wrote an ignition statement (the thing that catches me on fire), and a vision statement for my life. It states:
I want to enjoy each day to the fullest, show love to others, be a light to those who want direction, accepting others where they are, being their cheerleader, showing passion, forgiveness, love and connection. My Life Vision is: To let others know they are not alone in their challenges, they have value and worth and a voice. I want to be surrounded by those I love and enjoy the grace of their love to reach out and share it with others.
I am not perfect with either of those, but on occasion I pull these statements up and read them and remind myself what I think my mission is here on earth.
Everyone, take a deep breath. When is the last time you prayed for our country? Prayed for those in leadership? Prayed for your neighbor? When is the last time you reached out to someone in need, no matter how large or small that need may be. When we are self focused, we lose sight of the big picture. When we no longer put ourselves in the selfish middle, and look to see who is standing next to us, we can begin to work together.
All people has value and worth. Everyone has a voice. I want to use our voices harmoniously. I can shout and scream, or talk over someone. Or, I can harmonize with others, singing different notes, but blending the sweet music of our thoughts and lives together. What beautiful music we can make, if we just try. Jesus said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 22:39). It’s all about love.
Please understand and respect that these are my thoughts and feelings. I welcome comments, but do not welcome name calling by any side. Discussion, in my opinion, should always start from a position of love. We don’t have to agree with each other. Disagreement is not the same thing as hate. If you want to make a comment that agrees or disagrees with my thoughts and feelings, you may do so if done in a respectful way. Thank you.
I attended Lindbergh High School in St. Louis, Missouri. I didn’t have any friends in high school. I had acquaintances, some really nice acquaintances, but not true friends. I am the youngest of three daughters in my family, My dad was an immigrant who arrived in the U.S. at the age of ten. My mom was a first generation American—both her parents were immigrants. They were hard workers, and went for the American dream. My dad started a business as a building contractor when I was a little girl. He said during that time we kids wore patches on our patches. I don’t remember being poor. I don’t think children know what poor is—if they are in a loving home, they are fed, and have clothes to wear, they don’t know that their parents are struggling to make ends meet. My parents never went to high school. They thought their daughters needed to be educated, but I don’t think they really were sure what that meant.
was not an actor. I probably could have been, but I had no confidence in myself, so I was happy to take roles working on the business side of productions. I did publicity. I still have copies of the newspaper articles I wrote for the local newspapers promoting the Junior Play, “Meet Me in St. Louis.” I worked back stage at our largest production, the annual variety show, and my senior year I was in charge of ticket sales. I carried a lot of money on me everyday selling tickets, reconciling the sales to the tickets, and daily turning in the proceeds to the school office.
committee recognized as a classmate. He must have been, he was on our list of alumni, and he responded. One of the committee members stated that we were no longer 17. It didn’t matter if we didn’t know him, we needed him to feel welcome. Wow! We were no longer thinking like teenagers. That was the beginning of the best reunions. There was a small turnout. We had 426 graduates in our class, and the total turnout was about 100 with half being spouses. We passed around the microphone and let each classmate share whatever they wanted. We talked to everyone, and the evening was a success. That evening one of my classmates came up to me and invited me to join a large group of them going to a local bar after the reunion. Really? I’m in the “in-crowd” and have been invited to an after party?
We repeated the small reunion for our 45th. I really pushed for the 45th reunion because shortly after our 40th, one of our attendees passed away. We had good addresses for the class, and we were getting older. Time to meet more often. Once again, we connected, not as buddies from high school, but as adults who had lived life.
I now have a lot of friends, or really great acquaintances, from high school. The group in St. Louis still get together on occasion. One classmate who lives out-of-town wanted to see everyone when she came home for Christmas, thus the annual Faux New Years party began. This year will be the third such party. It is called a Faux New Years party because it occurs one evening between Christmas and New Years at a local restaurant, and we are usually done before midnight.
Why do I know all this today?
completely. 
for childhood cancer research. The Super Sam Foundation sponsors an annual 5k in Fulton, Missouri and the annual Super Sam Gala in Columbia, Missouri.
Do you ever look at abandoned property and wonder about them? One of the things I first noticed is that when a property is abandoned, how quickly it deteriorates. It seems like if there are people living in a dwelling, even if they are not good at upkeep, the dwelling seems to be standing okay (mostly).
As my husband and I travel around the country, I tend to notice abandoned homes. I take photos of many of them. I see these abandoned buildings, and they are collapsing around itself. I wonder what was the life that went on in these rooms. Was it a family with children who ran around the home, playing, laughing, cuddling with their parents? Who lived there? What were their lives like?
Do the walls talk? What would they tell us? Was this a happy home, or was there a lot of discord? Were there a lot of children living here? Was there fun and laughter? Did they worship together? Did they talk around the dinner table? Was there special celebrations, like Christmas, Easter, and birthdays?
I think about the many homes where I have lived. The first home I remember is near the airport in St. Louis. My dad built the house. It was on the property of my grandparents’ farm. Dad borrowed Grandpa’s mule to dig the foundation of the house. How he did that I am not sure. Shortly after completing the house, the mule died. My dad always chuckled and said that Grandpa said Dad killed that mule! I was a few months old when we moved in that home, and we moved out when I was in 2nd grade. My memories of that home are good. I lived next door to my grandparents. I could walk over to their home, and Grandma would feed me cookies and milk. Next door was my cousin, Gordon. He was my age and my playmate. I do not remember if we moved out first, or if his family moved out first. We had two large pear trees in our yard, and Grandma had a cherry tree in her yard. My sisters would climb the tree and eat the cherries, and on occasion would drop a cherry down to me, who was too little to climb the tree.
My next home, my father also built. He now had become a building contractor and built all the houses on our street in the south county of St. Louis. It was a large ranch home—a typical 1950’s style ranch. I didn’t like it when we first moved there because the windows were high, and I had to jump to see out of my bedroom window. That lasted only a short time, as I grew taller, I could see out. I have fond memories of this house. I lived there until I got married. My parents lived there for almost 30 years before they sold it and moved on.
I have lived in four other homes since. The one I love the best was the home I had in St. Charles, MO. In 1999, I decided I wanted to move from the neighborhood I was in. I just felt it was going downhill, and that I needed a place to fit my family, as I saw it growing with daughters-in-law, and future grandchildren. I had been a single mom for about 15 years. I now was getting professional positions, had finally gotten my finances in order. On a fluke, I drove around looking at new housing. I wasn’t looking in the St. Charles area. That was fairly far from where I lived. One of the builder’s homes I was interested in, told me they had other model homes I could look at in St. Charles. They could build those same houses in the area where I was looking. One Saturday I got in my car and drove to St. Charles to look at the model home. I accidentally pulled into the wrong development, and went to look at their model homes. I realized a couple things on that excursion: 1) Homes were less expensive for the same house in this neighborhood, and 2) I liked this new builder’s homes better than the ones in which I was previously interested.
purchase one of these homes. Would I qualify? Could I really have a house built? I picked the floor plan I liked. After looking at several model homes all over town, I actually picked a floor plan of one that I had not seen a model, but by that time, I knew what I was wanting. This was so out of my comfort zone. I signed the contracts and gave them an earnest money check. I drove back to my home in south county. I walked in the door and all my kids were home and chatting in the living room. I walked in and sat down. They all looked at me, and I burst into tears! I then told them that I just signed a contract to get a new home built in an area of town in which I was not familiar. I said that I didn’t even know where the grocery stores were. My oldest son looked seriously at me, and then proceeded to say, “Mom, you used to talk about moving to Phoenix, Arizona. You don’t know where the stores are there either.” It hit me! No one is starving in St. Charles—there must be grocers. This is a new adventure, and I will find the grocery store. Be bold and courageous, and go forth! It took four months to get the house built. My home sold immediately, and I lived in temporary housing with the majority of my belongings in storage. That home in St. Charles had some of the best Christmas celebrations, and 4th of July barbecues. It is the house my grandkids remember when they were little. If the walls could talk, it would tell of such happy times there.
What does it mean when we come to a fork in the road? It is decision time. It doesn’t matter the issue. It could be a financial, career, relationship, health related, educational, or any other issue. A decision needs to be made. Do I go this direction or the other? It’s a fork in the road, not an intersection. We are not veering off too far. Farther down the road it moves farther out, but not now. It’s just a simple decision.
Why do we fear decision-making when making no decision can make life harder? We fear making a mistake. Okay, it’s a mistake. Big deal! So make the turn around and find that fork again. It is better than being stuck in the muck and mire. Decisions can be scary–and sometimes risky, but they move us farther quicker than winding through the rough terrain. Making no decision takes me off the beaten path. It makes me frustrated. It makes me scared.
One simple move at that fork in the road. As long as I am living and breathing, I will continue to make decisions to move to new adventures. That’s just who I am.
