New Year's Resolutions

To tell you the truth, I've never made any New Year's Resolutions.  I believe them to be empty promises not to one's self, for one already knows they are, but to the family and friends of that one.  Instead, I'm going to compile a list of dreams/goals.  At the end of 2014 I'll evaluate that list to see exactly what I achieved and what I still need to accomplish.  A simple list to begin with.

1.  Instead of falling to anger immediately, look at my perception, look at the humour of the situation, then evaluate the reasoning of being angry.

2.  Laugh more, for laughter and humour can create a more harmonious living condition for others and one's self.

3.  Stand up for the rights of others.

4.  Make healthier choices.  Bring myself and my family to an even more healthier lifestyle, including exercise,

5.  Read more and share what I am reading.  Write critical reviews.  Read a varied selection of books.

6.  Write one short story a week.  Per advice of Ray Bradbury.

7.  Research. Continue research on project and begin putting it together.

8.  Travel.  More travel in the state of Florida.  Go to Cross Creek, Alapachee village near Tallahassee, and Fort Caroline in Jacksonville.

9.  Less worry.  What does worry gain anyone?

10.  LOVE!  More time with family and more time having fun.  Life is way to short to be wasted on non-necessities.

That's the list for 2014!  Time to start....end the old on the right note, with forgiveness, love, and repentance.

2013: A Year of Contradictions

2013 has been a year of contradictions and conflicts.  The loss of rights for women and the gaining of rights for homosexuals.  The continued battle over gun violence and control flooded our minds with every violent action in the United States.  Racial, gender, and homosexual hatred has been given free reign hiding under the cover of Freedom of Speech and Freedom of Religion.  Yet, these rights have been taken from others who use them and stand against the bigots and religious extremists who flaunt their views under the guise of family values and Christian beliefs.

Yet, the year has been one of heroes and courage as well.  The runners in the Boston Marathon who stopped to help those in need from the bombings.  The astronauts, especially, Chris Hadfield, filled our minds and souls with dreams and visions of the future, where all are equal and further exploration would be done.  After all, humanity has always moved forward through inquiries, searches, and examinations. Our military personnel returning from war to family and friends, only to find no jobs, no help, no money due to the actions of Congress and the narrow-minded/ unrealistic legislatures who denied these heroes their rights to life, liberty, and happiness.  Amazingly, there were politicians who fought back against these fanatics:  Wendy Davis who worked hard at keeping women's programs available in Texas against all odds; although, she lost, she and the women of Texas were thrown into the nation's and world's eyes with her fight to stop the removal of rights for women.  Senator John McCain who tired of the bickering among the legislators and worked toward creating bipartisanship.  Senator Elizabeth Warren who has worked tiredlessly in the battle for living wages and help for the poor and middle class.  Representative Tammy Duckworth who served in the military and became the 1st woman double amputee in the Iraqi war.  She works at stopping corruption and salvaging the rights of military veterans in a Congress who cuts these "privileges" as some call them, away from those who served, fought, and many gave the ultimate sacrifice in protecting our Constitution.

There are many, many more heroes and courageous acts as well.  They are done daily by citizens who are tired of the hate which seems to be trying to permeate through the country.  These people are your neighbors, friends, and family members .  They have stood up in many different ways to end the bullying, the hatred, and the bickering.  They are the allies of homosexuals standing up against prejudice and hypocrisy.  They fight against the white supremacy of the Tea Party, Ku Klux Klan, and Nazis.  They stand for women's rights, including the rights for health and reproductive medicine.  They demand the equal treatment and protection of programs for the poor and middle class; as well as for living wages and the right to be treated with respect and dignity.  Even towards those who would remove it in their unending quest for power and money.

That's right.  Power and money have been the two most prevalent mechanisms used this past year.  They have funneled through every aspect of our daily lives.  From what we eat to what we read or watch, the major components have been power and money.  It is up to us, as a people, to decide whether we wish this type of control to continue or stand up and wrest it back to where it would be managed more appropriately. Yes, unlimited power becomes corrupted as does the unlimited power of money.  Why do you think Jesus says "You can only serve one master. God or money"  Interestingly, many of those who throw the money around in order to achieve power are those who claim to be Christians.  Quite a quandary for them isn't it?  Or is it?  It depends on who they actually serve, God or Power through money.

In the end, 2013 is closing with war, hatred, and prejudice being a part of it.  Another part is fueled with hope, love, and diversity to create compassion, fairness, and equality.  It is has been a year of contradictions filled with controversies and acceptance.  Which do you find more compelling?  Personally, I prefer acceptance and peace over hatred and godlessness.  2014 will soon be here.  Happy New Year!  Godspeed and Blessings to you all....

A Song For New Year's Eve

  by William Cullen Bryant

Stay yet, my friends, a moment stay— 
     Stay till the good old year, 
So long companion of our way, 
     Shakes hands, and leaves us here. 
          Oh stay, oh stay, 
One little hour, and then away.

The year, whose hopes were high and strong, 
     Has now no hopes to wake; 
Yet one hour more of jest and song 
     For his familiar sake. 
          Oh stay, oh stay, 
One mirthful hour, and then away.  

The kindly year, his liberal hands 
     Have lavished all his store. 
And shall we turn from where he stands, 
     Because he gives no more? 
          Oh stay, oh stay, 
One grateful hour, and then away.  

Days brightly came and calmly went, 
     While yet he was our guest; 
How cheerfully the week was spent! 
     How sweet the seventh day's rest! 
          Oh stay, oh stay, 
One golden hour, and then away.  

Dear friends were with us, some who sleep 
     Beneath the coffin-lid: 
What pleasant memories we keep 
     Of all they said and did! 
          Oh stay, oh stay, 
One tender hour, and then away.  

Even while we sing, he smiles his last, 
     And leaves our sphere behind. 
The good old year is with the past; 
     Oh be the new as kind! 
          Oh stay, oh stay, 
One parting strain, and then away.

- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19330#sthash.mneC6Ws0.dpuf

The Christmas Bishop

This isn't what you might think.....The last paragraph and line are the best....Enjoy it!

The Christmas Bishop

In parts of Western Europe one finds reports of the election of boy bishops, often on December 28th, which marked the feasts of Holy Innocents massacred by King Herod.

In England the practice can be found dating back to the twelfth century, where boys were elected as bishops in churches or schools. The boy might be dressed up in vestments and would celebrate a mock mass that would include preaching a sermon. Afterwards he would go out in a procession, where he would receive gifts of money and food. Even the English kings would participate in the fun – Edward I had one boy bishop say vespers before him in 1299 and his son Edward II awarded another boy bishop ten shillings in 1316.

In mainland Europe the practice was a little different. One account from Denmark describes how someone became the bishop:

Christmas Bishop is the name of a young man who is consecrated bishop in a Christmas game which goes as follows: they place one from their own guild, that is to say the guild of unmarried people, on a chair, blacken his face and put a stick in his mouth with a piece of candle on either end. Then the young men and women run around him in a circle and sign: ‘We consecrate a Christmas Bishop pro nobis”, and when this had been done three times he had been consecrated Christmas Bishop.

Of course, the Christmas Bishop had duties to perform: he “marries as many couples from the guild as he wants while making strange faces and speaking in a feigned voice, and then the married couples must offer something. Those offering something which is not good enough are hit by a bag filled with ashes that the Bishop has kept under his cape.”

The marriages lasted one night – we are left to guess how the happy couples spent their Christmas honeymoon.

http://www.medievalists.net/2012/12/20/seven-medieval-christmas-traditions/

Winter Solstice: The Return of the Light and the Redemption of Darkness

Winter Solstice: The Return of the Light and the Redemption of Darkness

Light follows darkness as darkness light:
the stunned sun halts mid-dance
Shiva Nataraj
motionless balancing lightly the luminous and tenebrous
exhorting us again to brave the redeeming depth of the shadow

Beyond the celebrated land of light
that seems so divinely uplifting
that dabbles in the windfall waters of virtue
and dallies in the garden of diversion...
we find
the locus of the Shadow
that disquieting darkness
the vision that threatens to char the sockets of the eyes

We know the shadow by our avoidance
the nimble step
the sideward glance
the drowsy daydream
the sidestepped fantasy
the impulse denied
or not

We know it by our accidents of speech
the slip of the tongue
the telltale blush
and the complaints of friends

We know it by our nightly dreams
that render such faithful and unswerving service
to the shadow.

Go then
taking as your virtue
both courage and impeccability
swords against fear and pride

That from which we turn away grows stronger 

Joan Woodbridge

History and It's Exaggeration

Now this article concerns an attack on a farmhouse which was located on what is now known as Bellamy Blvd. in Pasco County.  In this particular version of events there has been a number of exaggerations.  It is always fascinating to see how the media takes an event and then stretches the realities in order to change public opinion.  

Bradley Massacre at Darby in 1856 (1922)

A Daughter and a Son of Major Bradley, Pioneer, Killed by the Indians

This article appeared in the Dade City Banner on Aug. 4, 1922.

By C. B. TAYLOR

With the close of the first Seminole war in 1837, most of the Indians were moved to the reservation set aside for them by the government in the Indian Territory, now the great state of Oklahoma. The remnant were confined to the Everglade country in the southern part of the peninsula. All of the territory north of the Everglades was thrown open to settlement. It was not long before many of the men who had served in the war as volunteers began to move into the territory which they had seen and admired while engaged in conquering its former savage owners.

The first settler to cross the Withlacoochee was Major R. D. Bradley of the regular army. He had served throughout the war, being stationed at Tallahassee first, where he gained a great reputation as an Indian fighter. In fact, so active was he against them that he gained their undying hatred, and it was in an attempt to revenge themselves for the losses they had sustained at his hands that the events here recorded took place.

Among the incidents of the great war in which the doughty major figured, the following were told me by Mrs. O. A. Darby of Tampa, who was a daughter of the major. While in the fort at Tallahassee, the Indians made an attack and captured a boy whom they carried off and, it is said, intended to adopt into their tribe. At any rate, they did not torture him, as was their custom with prisoners. Major Bradley immediately went in pursuit, and after several days came up on the redskins, who were sitting in a circle around a fire, the prisoner being in the center. Carefully creeping up on the savages with his command, he surrounded them, and gave the order to fire. As the volley rang out, the boy sprang to his feet, leaped between the surprised Indians and safely gained the soldiers. According to the tale as given me, not an Indian was hurt by the shots, but this does not seem probable.

Among the officers who served under Major Bradley was a First Lieutenant Whittaker, who was killed by the Indians while on a scout, and his body hacked to pieces. The Lieutenant was a particular friend of the major and it is said that he swore in revenge to kill an Indian for every piece in which the body was cut. Another officer, Capt. McNeil, was killed in the battle of Olustee during the Civil war.

Major Bradley’s health being much broken by the fatigues and exposure of the Indian campaign, he resigned his commission and moved south, being, as before stated, the first white settler to cross the Withlacoochee river. He first took up a homestead at Chuckichatte, near Brooksville, where he lived for some time, but as he was in danger of roving bands of Indians, he afterwards moved to Fort Taylor, just north of the present northern boundary of Pasco county. His health failed him and he became stricken with severe hemorrhages of the lungs so moved to Tampa Bay where he could receive treatment from the army surgeon stationed at Fort Brook. Some time later he moved again and settled at what was then known as the 26 mile house on the Brooksville and Tampa stage road, where Ehren is now, later moving into what is known as the Darby settlement.

With the breaking out of Indian Troubles which resulted n the Seminole War of 1856, moccasin tracks were frequently noticed in the settlement and especially in the vicinity of Major Bradley’s farm. At first there was considerable alarm and the neighbors all gathered around living in little log huts about the place. As no outbreaks occurred, the conclusion was finally reached that the tracks were caused by runaway slaves, and that Major Bradley’s negroes were harboring them, and the neighbors all went back to their homes.

In May, 1856, life was moving along with its usual regularity on the Bradley farm. Major Bradley was in bed sick and the farm was being run by the overseer, a man named Bowen, and the negro slaves. A cousin from the Carolinas was visiting and enjoying the delights of frontier life, and incidentally making life miserable for the son of a neighbor, one Mack Johnson, who suddenly discovered that it was his bounden duty to help the sick major rather than stay home and ten his own farm.

As the sun set one evening, two of the Bradley girls, accompanied by the visiting cousin and Mack Johnson, went to the cow pen to oversee the negroes as they attended to the cattle. Bowen, the overseer, was busy in the smoke house some twenty-five yards away from the double penned log building that was the home of the owner. On the porch of the house one son, William B. Bradley, was sitting in a chair, a candle in another [illegible] by the light of which he was [illegible] a saddle. The other children [illegible] playing about the hall.

Suddenly, a file of Indians crept out of the woods and, giving their war whoop, fired into the house. One of the girls, Mary Jane, was shot through the shoulder and heart; she managed to walk into the bed room where her father lay helpless and fell dead. William was shot through the chest and bowels. Mrs. Bradley rushed out on the porch, picked up the wounded boy, and carried him into the room and laid him on the bed. He got up, grabbed a rifle, and fired through a crack between the logs, handed the gun to one of his brothers, saying, “fight till you die” and fell to the floor dead.

While this was going on, Mrs. Bradley was rushing about seeing that the children were safe. She ran across the hall into another room where one of the boys was looking for a gun and as they hurried back to where the others were, bullets were shot through the boy’s shirt and one burned his upper lip; not a shot touched the mother.

The Indians advanced, firing as they came, until they reached the steps. Mrs. Bradley called to the major “They are coming in,” and he managed to get a crack in the logs and shot, killing the leader as he put his foot on the steps, who fell exclaiming “Waugh.” The Indians fell back and kept up an irregular fire for some time at the house but did no damage. One of the boys shot at two Indians who were trying to hide behind a tree and afterwards more blood was found there than anywhere else.

While all this was going on at the house, there was considerable excitement at the cow pen where two of the children, the visiting cousin, and Mack Johnson were. As the first shots and the war whoop rang out the young lady from the Carolinas promptly fainted; Mack grabbed her in his arms and ran with her to his home about a mile distant. The other children and the negroes scattered like quail and hid in the woods near by. Bowen, the overseer, made a break for the house but was cut off by the savages and ran to the cow pen, afterwards slipping back to the house where he arrived too late to take part n the fighting.

The firing aroused the entire neighborhood and a married daughter, Mrs. Colding, sent a negro boy over to find out what was the matter. He was immediately sent to Fort Taylor to get help from the soldiers stationed there. On the way he stopped at the McNatt homestead and gave the alarm and it was from William McNatt, then a small boy, now a farmer living at Loyce, that I first heard the story of this battle. Mr. McNatt’s account differs in some minor points from the accounts given by Mrs. Darby and her sister, Mrs. Susan Hays, and as these ladies were both eyewitnesses of the event I presume that their stories are more likely to be correct.

With the arrival of the soldiers from the fort next morning, the pursuit of the Indians was taken up. All of the men of the neighborhood went with the party, the women and children again taking refuge at “Fort Bradley.” The camp of the redskins was found in the big cypress swamp and nearby the grave of the Indian killed by Major Bradley. Lying on the grave was a book, evidently stolen from some settler’s home, entitled “The Story of the Spoiled Child.” The Indians were followed for some time retreating south and a battle was fought near the old Tillis place on Old Tampa Bay. The pursuit continued according to some accounts till Fort Meade was reached where a second battle was fought and the entire band either killed or captured.

During the First Seminole War Major Bradley killed the brother of Tiger Tail, one of their chiefs, and revenge for this act is said to have been the cause of this attack on his home some twenty years later. Mrs. Bradley always declared that the Indians were led by a white man and insisted that she heard him talking to the savages during the battle directing their movement. Major Bradley only survived this massacre two years, dying in 1858, and was buried in the cemetery at Brooksville. Of the eyewitnesses of the event, I believe only two are now living, Mrs. Darby and Mrs. Hays, of Tampa. A younger brother of theirs, whom I understand was born just afterwards, also is living.

Mrs. Darby married shortly after the event I have just told and lived in the Darby neighborhood during the civil war period. She says that they had a good deal of trouble with the negroes during that time but no other especial hardships. Her husband was in the Confederate home guards and while on a scout was captured by Union sympathizers (“deserters” she called them), and was confined on Ship Island and guarded by negro troops till the close of the war.

Note: The reference to the First Seminole War should be the Second Seminole War. The discovery of the Indian camp and an Indian killed by Major Bradley are not confirmed in contemporary newspaper accounts, nor is any contact with or help from Fort Taylor. This article indicates that a third child was wounded by the Indians; this is also not mentioned in contemporary newspaper accounts. The contemporary accounts do claim that son William fired on the Indians, but do not confirm related details. According to Jeff Cannon, the brother of Tiger Tail was killed by Tiger Tail himself. He writes, “According to military records Tiger Tail killed his own brother, a result of his brother wanting to surrender to the white man at Fort Brooke. Records indicate Tiger Tail killed his brother and took over his band to prevent them from surrendering. I believe the citation of Bradley killing Tiger Tail’s brother can only be attributed to one source, J. A. Hendley’s writings. Prior to Hendley I don’t believe it appears anywhere and after Hendley appears in frequency.”

http://www.fivay.org/bradley.html

I Walked 10 Miles in the Snow, 10 Feet High, Barefoot, and All Uphill!

Back when I was a young lass, the winters were colder and the snow deeper.  Getting to school meant walking 10 miles uphill and barefoot at that!  I had to carry my lunch in an small tin pail and it was frozen by the time I got to the school.  Then I had to help the other children haul in wood for the wood stove and keep my coat on in order to stay warm.  We said the Pledge of Allegiance and sat down afterwards giving the teacher our full attention.  We didn't have smart phones.  We didn't text one another.  We listened to our teacher and obeyed.  Yep, those were the good old days.  We said prayers and we read the Bible.  If anyone stepped out of line and no one did, they would get a whoopin' from the principal.  When school was over, I would walk the 10 miles uphill barefoot home.  Yes sir!  Didn't have time to goof off and play or listen to music or watch tv.  No sir!  It was work, work, work!

Okay, so that is a bunch of bs, but that's what a lot of people would say today.  How many times have you seen a post on facebook talking about God in school, Pledging Allegiance, and working all the time?  I know I've seen it way too many times!  The truth is I didn't walk to school; at least not until we moved into town and I wasn't barefoot.  I rode a bus to and from school when we lived on the farm.  Now, I kind of believe the winters were colder and the snow deeper, but that is due to the greenhouse effect on our climate.  This has in turn made warmer winters and not as much snow.

Some days I took my lunch....those were the days when my thermos was filled with chocolate milk!  Yummy!  Other days I would buy lunch in the cafeteria, those were the hot lunches but I was stuck with plain old milk.  Chocolate milk is sooooo much better! And Friday was pizza day!!!!  So much for the frozen meal!  Nor did we haul wood into the school.  It was warm....most of the time, but quite often sweaters were a wonderful piece of clothing.  Hey, our school had a boiler to keep it warm and, well, boilers weren't that great.

Now we did say the Pledge of Allegiance, but how many times does one say it before it becomes obsolete and spoken by rote rather then by understanding and appreciation?  Prayers were definitely said, every time there was a test, but we weren't forced to pray.  We weren't told to pray.  We just prayed when we wanted to.  Can you imagine what it would be like to be made to pray, especially by someone who didn't believe as your family and you did?  Kinda scary.  We read the Bible too.  When I was in 8th grade, I think it was, we could take a class for English concerning the books of the Bible as literature. Yes, we had to have permission from our parents, but that is okay.  Parents should be involved in their children's education. I would think they would be the most important people to make sure you were receiving an education.  Then again, many parents then and now believe that isn't their responsibility, it's the schools and teachers jobs to do that.

And yes, sometimes fellow students were sent to the principal's office and were spanked.  I didn't believe in that then and I don't believe in it today.  Tell me, what exactly does spanking do?  Really?  What does it do?  Is it suppose to inspire respect?  Responsibility? Stop naughty children?  Does it?  Did it?  NO!  All it does is reinforce the use of violence as a means of control and power.  That's all it does.  Nothing more.  How many times were the same kids sent to the office and receive the same punishment.  It didn't do anything.  Violence begets violence and creates a vicious cycle that's all it does .  There are other ways to discipline, and one of the best is to teach.  Not yell, not react out of fear or anger, but to calmly take the child aside and teach them.  Speak to them and show them acceptable ways.  If a primitive gatherer culture can do this, why is it so hard for our "advanced" civilization to do it?

Now, we didn't have cell phones, but we wrote notes, and passed notes, and talked and signed, and should I even go on?  What's the difference between today's cell phones and our notes?  One thing, we could only talk to the kids in that classroom, no one outside of it.  Big difference.  Yeah, right!  No difference, same stuff, different year.  Oh, and we had time to play!  We goofed off, we had fun, Oh, and I rode the bus home.  I played, I had fun, I had chores to do on the farm, but I was only a little kid so, they weren't heavy duty chores, but I could and did do them.  I loved to feed the calves.  Feeling their tongues as they lapped my hand while I gave them their pail of food was fun!  And feeding the cows was fun too! When the chores and supper were done, there was homework to do and time to watch tv, or listen to music, or read.  In my teens, quite often I did all three at the same time.  Nowadays, I'm not quite as coordinated, I admit it, so I only do two of the at the same time.  

Truthfully, the good old days really weren't all that great.  It's the people I miss, from those days, not the other things.  In reality, I am glad to be in the here and now than in those days of racial discord and equality fights.  Oh wait, that's going on now isn't it? Hmmmmm.  Seems that not much has changed.  Anyway, have fun, enjoy today and laugh about the past, but please for God's sake and our children's don't wish that kind of crap on them.  Instead, let's have fun with our future and give them time to learn and time for us to share with them our dreams, lives, hopes, desires, and love.  Have fun and don't forget to play, it's very important to have fun and laugh!