I'm sorry but if I am to believe the Martyrs I would have to concede that Almighty God needed lowly me to punish the unclean. As he was unable to do it himself. Well where is the God of Noah that with a wave of his hand flooded the world? If he was that ineffectual I think I would go looking for enlightenment somewhere else.

The quintessential question remains by what right do any of us claim divine guidance? There comes a point where judgment is beyond us and we have to leave these things to the individuals involved. Our personal beliefs have no right being imposed on others rights or beliefs. Even in the case of protection of the innocents. This is such a divisive question that it causes violence. However in the enlightened parts of the world this is not a problem like it is here in the mostly evangelical, protestant, pilgrim, country of the hypocrite. We as Americans tend to believe we are the ones who are most enlightened. It always amazes me how ignorant we as Americans""is"! As we plod along polluting the world at a exponential rate. Then wishing to overpopulate it with unwanted children in the name of God. Truth be known this countries real God is the Almighty dollar. I only wish Twain were still alive as I am sure his witticisms and opinions would be most welcome by the truly enlightened. And shunned by the clergy.It was only a few years ago that the Catholic Pope apologized to the world for having imprisoned Galileo Galilee in his home,For the crime of saying the Earth was not the center of the Universe. At that rate of religious attrition religion should catch up to the education of the 21st century sometime in about 500 years or so. Protecting the rights of other peoples unwanted children .And paying to raise the majority of them through the state will never alleviate the conscience that we offend by our insensibility .!

Be the beacon your child uses to light his way!
Not the darkened night he shuns!

To Lucy Hamilton princess of Ireland, With whom I had planned a life. She could not leave her sainted mother who was ill. I am touched by the devotion.

Haven't we all thought back to the moment we were up to bat?
With the weight of the world on us we then struck out.
Baseball is the national sport here. It is the only sport to have a commisioner all powerful who is in charge of guarding the integrity of the game. In 1919 the first commisioner Judge Kennesaw Mountain Landis was elected to the lifetime post to combat the cheating that the white sox had done in the world series. Even though all were aquitted he banned them all from the game for life saying "No player who gambles on the game of baseball or sits in conference with others who do and does not tell his franchise will ever play the game again." He added What these men have done is to plant a doubt in the minds of every American school boy who ever looked up to them with honor. Forever crushing their sense of fairplay and honesty"!
The White Sox were for years then after refered to as the Black Sox!

Childhood:
Softened by Times consummate plush,
How sleek the woe appears
That threatened childhoods citadel
And undermined the years!
Bisected now by bleaker griefs,
We envy the despair
That devastated childhoods realm,
So easy to repair.

Emily Dickinson

I knew a man like this once. His life all but lived. He patiently waited for the end.Which wasn't long in coming. Children give us the legacy that makes the bitterness of our short life more tolerable

Can any man say he is not beholding to the spring from which life flows? Kathy died Monday May 19th at 3 am. She was the soul, both part and parcel of our clan. As in the times of the ancient mariner we all hear the call of sirens that gesture us to sail home. Continuity of purpose flows from the wellspring of our lives. In the end we all find we are drawn inexorably home, to the hearth from around which we told our tales of long ago and spun our yarns of a life well lived. The well spent life will always beckon from the winds of change a call for home. Kathy was the glue that holds to us all. She was the keeper of our stories and heritage.

I pray all I am, all I may ever be, can be found in the hearts of those I have loved.
And who have dared to love me. As in the times of the ancient mariner we all hear the call of sirens that gesture us to sail home. Continuity of purpose flows from the wellspring of our lives. In the end we all find we are drawn inexorably home, to the hearth from around which we told our tales of long ago and spun our yarns of a life well lived. The well spent life will always beckon from the winds of change a call for home.