There Are No Safe Choices. Only Other

I Stare At The Pile Of Discarded Remnants And Think Of My Mother. Did She Touch That Pillar There? Does Her Scent Still Linger In A Fragment Of Glass Or A Splinter Of Wood? A Terrible Emptiness Settles Into My Chest. No Matter How Much I Go About Living, There Are Always Small Reminders That Make The Loss Fresh Again.

We Sit And Listen And Are Enthralled Anew, For Good Stories, It Seems, Never Lose Their Magic.

Board The Cows! We've Come To Enslave Your Marigolds.

There Is A Dualism Inherent In Democracy--opposing Forces Pushing Against Each Other, Always. Culture Clashes. Different Belief Systems. All Coming Together To Create This Country. But This Balance Takes A Great Deal Of Energy.

He Told Me That Once, In The War, He’d Come Upon A German Soldier In The Grass With His Insides Falling Out; He Was Just Lying There In Agony. The Soldier Had Looked Up At Sergeant Leonard, And Even Though They Didn’t Speak The Same Language, They Understood Each Other With Just A Look. The German Lying On The Ground; The American Standing Over Him. He Put A Bullet In The Soldier’s Head. He Didn’t Do It With Anger, As An Enemy, But As A Fellow Man, One Soldier Helping Another.