Stuff My Brain Says #18

I'm no member, but I do like the Tea Party movement. Why? Anything that the media and politicians hate so much HAS to be a good thing.

Sort of reminds me of an episode of Hogan's Heroes: There was a bomb that fell in the compound that did not detonate. In the scene Hogan has to choose between two colored wires to cut. He asks Klink, "Which would you cut?" and Klink replies with one of the colors. At that point Hogan cuts the other wire. When questioned he responds, "I wasn't sure which was the right one, but I was certain you'd pick the wrong one."

Again, anything the media and politicians hate so much HAS to be a good thing.

© Emittravel 2011

Oh Man, Not Another Poetry Lesson!

One type of writing I post on this blog is poetry. I know that many people don’t give a turkey’s quill feather about poetry, but I’m okay with that. I post them because they are about My Humble But Accurate Opinion. But instead of the musings of my mind, my poetry runs the spectrum of emotion. Starting in December of 1984, and running through the present, I’ve attempted to capture the issues of life as I experienced them.

The first poem, “Dreaming of You”, was written during some major changes in my life. I had gotten into the U.S. Navy a few months prior; the first time to be truly away from home and on my own. I was in love with a girl back home and missing her terribly. So, for the first time I put my feelings into writing. Truly one of my favorite poems.

After that I used that creative outlet to express myself. The way most of these came about was that I felt a deep desire to write, driven by an emotion strongly felt in my heart. Usually, the only way to describe that emotion was to start writing. I compare the experience to “giving birth”. Not that it’s something I’ve ever truly experienced, mind you, but the cycle seemed the same. It was laborious to do. Sometimes I didn’t like the challenge of picking up the pen, because I knew what I was getting myself into. Not until I knew the poem was complete would that emotion subside, and the “baby” was born.

Not all of my poetry came about in that fashion. Some simply were the results of exposure. Being a sailor, the life of strip bars and pornography was a usual part of the life, and effected my outlooks and me.

I guess the most important thing to notice as you read is my hunger for God. When I had turned eighteen, I had abandoned my roots as a Catholic to look for God on my own. I had become greatly disillusioned with what I grew up believing, and felt that there had to be something more. You will see in the writings my hunger for Him, and my eventual coming to know Him through a relationship with His son Jesus.

All in all, these writings came from within me. They were attempts to express my opinions and myself. Not all of them will strike you, but they don’t have to. But rest assured, at one time in my life they struck me – that’s why they were written.

I wish I could share some of the more recent works, but nothing has come out in awhile. Who knows? Maybe I'll be "struck" again and write more.

I post them with their original dates for a reason – they are a reflection of who I was at that time in my life. I hope that through them you may find some of yourself as well, or at least give you reflection on that person you used to be.

© Emittravel 2011

Forgotten Dolls

My oldest niece turned sixteen this past month. Couldn't believe it. I remember her at her first birthday taking her first steps from Grandpa to me and back. As part of her birthday gifts I gave her a copy of a poem that I wrote for her mother at HER sixteenth birthday while I was away in the Navy. Enjoy.

P.S. - Picture at the bottom is of my sister's original Raggedy Ann doll. -j.p.

They sit in the corner of the room,

collecting dust.

No longer do small hands caress and hold them.

Clothes and tea parties,

houses and carriages,

forgotten memories worn deep in parting seems.

The cradle is covered,

no longer in use,

sitting in the attic;

just waiting for love and someone to hold.

In passing days and endless ways,

tiny feet and tear stained pillow;

generation lost and gained.

Child grown.

Too old for dolls.

Companionship and love,

be new toys for growing mind and heart.

Pretty dresses turn faded jeans.

Shoes with heels replace booties of pink.

Talcum set aside for rouge and eye shadow.

Growing pains and loving gains,

with goals of heart and challenges of spirit,

come day by day,

and each birthday past.

Through the layers of dust,

that has settled since then,

a single tear falls down worn cheek.

Cutting a path through the grime

of memories long gone.

Moments lost for eternity’s sake.

A single tear.

On a timeless,

smiling face.

Shed for a girl who has grown up and on.


J.P. Wiegand
© Emittravel 1986

 

© Emittravel 2011

Time to Stop Compromising

(Time for a good rant:)

Now is a really good time to stop compromising. You heard me Washington: stop compromising. Stand for something! Don't do what is politically expedient. Who cares if you lose votes. Do what is RIGHT! Even if it turns out to be wrong, do it anyway.

Everyone knows the old saying: "When your outgo exceeds your income, your upkeep becomes your downfall." Everyone knows that, except our so-called leaders in Washington. Congratulations. You raised the debt ceiling. Do you know what that means? It is a breather to give us time. Time for what? Time to fix it, for crying out loud. But do you know what will happen instead? They will outspend that ceiling as well. Guarantee it. As sure as politicians are unable to tell the truth, it will happen.

Do what will probably cost you votes: cut spending. We all know that those "evil" rich people need to be punished for succeeding. But if you take ALL of the net worth of all of those "evil" rich people (according to our leaders, that is any couple earning over $250k/yr) and apply it to the non-existent budget (thank you Democrat-led Senate), it wouldn't even dent it. It's not a supply-side issue. It's an expense-side issue.

And don't cut future spending. Cut current spending. And when all of those living with their hands out start whining, buck up and tell them it's your fault! If you wouldn't have tried to give everyone a free lunch, we wouldn't be starving ourselves now. Tell them you really wanted to make a socialist utopia here in America, but mathematically it just doesn't work, and now its time to stop the gravy train before it derails (or more likely, runs out of track).

We do know that the socialist dream will eventually arrive in full here in America. It’s a given. A shot won't be fired. A war will not be fought. We will simply be OWNED by China. Funny thing is, if it wasn't for capitalist policies implemented in China over the last twenty years or so, China wouldn't be the power it is. Like I said, mathematically socialism/communism/Marxism NEVER works.

So get off your compromising butts and do what is right. We are waiting.

© Emittravel 2011

Stuff My Brain Says #17

I find it amazing that people choose to ride around on motorcycles (or scooters) with only helmets for protection. Apparently their head is the only thing they find of value: who cares what happens to the rest of the body if there is an accident!

What do they think? If their body gets destroyed in an accident that their head can be frozen and saved? You know, maybe have it end up in a jar like on Futurama?



http://www.veryicon.com/icons/movie--tv/futurama-vol-5---heads-jars/william-shatners-head.html



© Emittravel 2011

A Moment of Realization - of Becoming

The following is from my personal journal:

 

July 13, 2011 - Starlight Café, Bath, ME - Had a crabmeat and spinach quiche. I know that "real men don't eat quiche", but I had the opportunity to have crabmeat in it. And everybody knows, crabmeat is the other, other white meat.

After a terrific tour of Bath Iron Works, via a trolley from the Maine Maritime Museum, we had about a half-hour conversation with the tour guide. The tour guide was a retired engineer who worked on my ship - USS Elrod, FFG-55 - back during my early naval career. We had about a half-hour conversation together after the tour. Later, while Lisa and I were in the gift shop, we could here him telling others that there is a plankowner from the Elrod here. Way cool!

We went to Café Crème to have something to drink and snack. Very tasty. From there we went to the Kennebec River and sat on a bench and absorbed the atmosphere. Then we went to the local IGA for some wine and cheese and watched as a rainstorm came through. I did a fast walk to the other side of town for the Jeep. We decided to go back to the hotel to clean up and change clothes.

Dinner was at the Osprey - delicious. Great clam "chowdah"! Lisa had a lobster roll and I had seafood fettuccini (lobster, mussels, scallops, shrimp - oh yeah!)

After dinner we went for a drive and enjoyed as the evening set in. We found ourselves at the "end" of Bath along the Kennebec as the sun set.

Lisa and I had a conversation while sitting alongside the Kennebec River and why a place like this for me, or for her Kent State University, has such meaning. The Kennebec is just a river. I'm no lifetime sailor. I have no connection to the sea as some do. And yet I'm drawn here.

My life completely changed when I got to Bath, ME back in 1985. I left San Diego, CA, went home for about two weeks on leave (vacation), and then met the ship in Bath. I arrived, met the ship, and immediately was sent to Norfolk, VA to meet the crew. You have to understand, the Elrod was a brand-new ship. We were the original (a.k.a. "plankowner") crew. There is something special about being the first crew to take a ship out to sea. But at the beginning, while she was still being prepared, living quarters on the ship weren't ready. The crew was gathering in Norfolk to prepare, and that is where I went.

After a couple of short weeks we flew back to Maine to meet the ship. Once we took possession of her we left Bath via the Kennebec River and met the outskirts of a hurricane. After being tossed around for awhile (it was such fun! I saw a chair lift off the deck and flew over against a bulkhead [wall]. In actuality, the ship dropped and leaned so quickly the chair was left in midair, where the bulkhead came to it. Someone immediately said, "Someone want to tie that thing down?") the ship went to New Jersey for our ammo, a quick stop in Brunswick, GA for the commissioning ceremony, and then to Charleston, SC - our home port.

You see, the Kennebec represents a transition for me. Traveling down the river on the Elrod was a symbolic moment where I left "childhood" and entered "adulthood". Leaving home and going to San Diego, CA was not the same. Sure, there was boot camp, Radioman "A" School, and Morse Code School, but it was still school. When I got to the Elrod I was told, "You just get out of school? Well, forget what you learned; we're going to teach you how to be a Radioman." I learned how to be independent yet part of a team/family. I moved on and became a man. The river represents that "becoming" to me. And coming back to it floods my personal banks with emotion - overwhelms me.

I've half-jokingly said that when I die I want to be cremated and have my ashes deposited in the Kennebec. I guess I find that river a symbol for another major transition as well.

© Emittravel 2011

Stuff My Brain Says #16

One of my favorite breakfast items is French Toast. Maybe it's the syrup. Maybe it's the "Bacon. Crisp." I order with it. You know, the sweet and salty mix. Like a breakfast trail mix.

I've had French Toast with white bread, wheat bread, Texas toast, ciabatta bread, Italian bread, and even a Jewish bread that I can't remember the name of. But the one type of bread I've never had for French toast is French bread. Not a single restaurant I've ever been to (and I've been to quite a few in my time) has ever even OFFERED French bread for French Toast.

So, is it REALLY French?

(Please pass the syrup while you think about that!)

© Emittravel 2011