We make do.
I do believe I perceive a threat to me & others from neo-Confederate mad about the flag coming down.
I weighed in on the ridiculous notion that SC should spend eleventy billion dollars to display the flag that was removed. It was in the comment section of The State paper.
Carl weighed in on my comment. Here is the exchange:
My original comment:
This is too damn much. With all the problems in SC, spending this much money is absurd. There are ways to display the flag that don't cost this much. This is spite and malice because the flag was removed.
Trust me when I say that those who cheered that flag's removal have no idea just what they did - aside from accepting a pro-white supremacist viewpoint that legitimate Confederate heritage defenders rejects.
And don't presume that lowering one flag at a 30 foot pole behind a monument will mean the end of a permanent display of the flag flying over Columbia....you'll know what I mean by next summer.
Listen Stonewall, the war is over. The flag is a historic relic that does not represent all of SC.Nobody is telling you that you can't display it. They are saying that on state grounds that belong to everyone, it should not be flown as a symbol for the state. I have several ancestors that died for the Confederacy. I have no desire to canonize them.
As far as white supremacy, you can deny it all you want. However, it is used as a symbol for that movement. You may not think so but that is a fact.
As far as your veiled staement about 'you'll know what I mean' about some coming event, are you gonna burn the city again? Graffiti? Tantrums? A 1000 ft flagpole flying the flag? The mind reels.
When the war was over, Robert E.Lee said this ""Abandon your animosities and make your sons Americans."
He didn't say nurse your grievances and never stop fighting. I'll defer to him.
So, I believe that is a threat of some action. I'm sure my name zoomed to the top of whatever list they keep. Meh. Bullies and cowards.
When his spokesperson mused about using atomic weapons, I think alarm bells went off in a lot of places. There are already grumblings in the Pentagon.
Trump has said many things that cross the lines of decency. The nuclear remark is a whole other level. Just having somebody like him in the White House would ratchet up tension enormously around the world. For all the complaints about PBO, he was not considered someone likely to go off half-cocked.
The PTB are going to get to him one way or another. They want the world destroyed slowly so they can make money. I doubt they are thrilled with the thought of nuclear annihilation.
a long time ago in a galaxy far far away
#1 Amanda Guarascio & A Lost Dog
Amanda heard about this lost dog at Evans Creek near Mount Rainier in the state of Washington. People said they'd been feeding him occasional food scraps and trying to get close to him unsuccessfully for about a month.
What a smart and caring person!
Good on her.
Northbound Toward Home
The South has a dog problem. We have more dogs than anywhere else in the country, but we take the worst care of them. We are stubbornly resistant to leash and spay/neuter laws and thus contribute hugely to the fact that more than a million healthy, adoptable dogs are put down every year. But 12 years ago, Kyle and Pam Peterson of Cookeville, Tennessee, started a business with a simple purpose to take the Souths unwanted pooches northward, to homes where they are wanted. This week, writer Cy Brown and photographer Tamara Reynolds take us on a three-day marathon trip in a big rig full of dogs all of them straining at the leash toward new lives.
By Cy Brown | Photos by Tamara Reynolds
There are angels on Earth.
Upvoted, an online publication from Reddit featuring the most compelling content from their site, recently republished this classic piece originally posted four years ago. The beautiful piece of writing was done by a commenter in response to a poster asking for advice on grief.
The original post simply read: My friend just died. I don't know what to do.
Here was redditor GSnows moving advice:
Alright, here goes. I'm old. What that means is that I've survived (so far) and a lot of people I've known and loved did not. I've lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can't imagine the pain it must be to lose a child.
But here's my two cents. I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter". I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.
As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it's a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what's going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.
Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out. Take it from an old guy.
The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.
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