Are they starting to see the light?
Friday, October 31, 2008
Doing The Math On The Candidates' Tax Plans
I was sent this video and transcript via email from a good friend. I don't intend to comment on it, or reply to comments, I'm just putting this out there for informational purposes. Please feel free to leave your opinions and comments though, I won't rebuttle them. Thank you for reading and watching. I'm sorry about the commercial at the beginning. ~Angie
(CBS) CBS News asked the non-partisan Tax Policy Center to calculate what individuals' tax burdens would be under each of Barack Obama and John McCain's proposed plans.
The first example family had a modest income of $35,000 a year. Under the current law, that family gets a tax credit - a check from the government - of $2,765, CBS News correspondent Nancy Cordes reports.
Obama and McCain would give them even more: $1,400 more from Obama and $480 more from McCain.
The next family of four made $50,000, the median income. Half the country's tax filers make that much or less.
Right now their 2009 tax bill was slated to be about $772.
But McCain would double the tax deduction for children, dropping their bill to $51. Obama promises a new worker tax credit, which would actually wipe out their bill, leaving them with a refund for $232.
At $150,000, Obama and McCain's tax bills are nearly identical. Right now that family's bill is $18,370.
Obama would shrink it by about $1,000; McCain, by $1,200.
At $200,000, a family's tax bill would stay the same under both candidates. But at the top of the ladder, $250,000, things change.
Not under McCain, who continues to bill that family just more than $42,000. But this is where Obama's tax increase kicks in - in this case, by $600.
"The bottom line is neither man pays for his tax cuts," said Robertson Williams of the Tax Policy Center. "By our estimates, Sen. Obama's plan would increase the federal deficit by about $3.5 trillion over the next 10 years. Sen. McCain would be even worse - about $5 trillion."
Which suggests that unlike our four families, neither candidate is focused on balancing his budget - yet.
© MMVIII, CBS Interactive Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Joe the Republican Plant!
Are we to believe the story peddled that Joe was an undecided voter who was trying to get one of the candidates to answer for his plan? That seems to stretch it a bit. He was quite confrontational with Obama: he was aggressive and spoke in sound-bite-ready clips. When he was interviewed by Neil Cavuto after the debate in which he was featured a couple of dozen times, Joe says that Obama did not convince him, that Obama “scared” him and his policies seemed “socialist.” It’s not up to the government to decide what happens to his hard-earned money.
Give me a break. Joe, the undecided voter? Joe was a plant: he’s an attractive, magnetic everyman employed to sell the McCain message in an unconventional way. No wonder Johnnie Boy was so excited to jump on the Joe the Plumber story: Joe was never undecided at all. I might have bought the storyline if Joe hadn’t been so polished, so readily equipped with talking points, in his interviews. But it’s difficult to believe that someone who is undecided at this point might have determined Obama to be a socialist on Wednesday night - at the same time, coincidentally, that the entire Republican establishment unveils a new line of attack according to which Obama is a socialist. B.S.
Wurzelbacher, who says he was playing football outside with his son when he came upon the crowd gathered around Obama, was obviously planted by the Republican party. This would explain how conservative sites got stories posted about him in advance of the debate and how easily everyone else found him for interviews.
Another thing that is suspicious is how was it that a newspaper was present when Joe was watching the debates (see the above picture) if Joe didn't already know his name would be mentioned?
Does Joe know, or is he related to the son-in-law of Charles Keating - from the Keating Five, which, without John McCain, would be the Keating Four. Is it merely a coincidence?? LOL, you decide!
For the record, Joe’s taxes will not go up under Obama’s tax plan. Even the premise is false.
Keep doing the Rally's Joe ~ you're earning every penny they spent on you!
I wish my plants grew this well!!
[note: I wrote very little of the above description, I compiled it and copied it from various sources here on the internet]
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Jim, this one's just for you darlin'!! hahahaha
Please watch the video through to the end.. Thanks! =)
Distorted Truth
I was talking to my ex husband last night on the phone and the conversation turned to politics. I asked him who he was voting for, his reply: "McCain". Then I asked him "why?", his reply was: "Sarah Palin is HOT and Obama is a Muslim who wasn't born in the US". *scratching chin* Evidently Hawaii has done what Palin hoped Alaska would do and they've become their own country, and the new name for Christianity is "Muslim". I then asked my ex, "Bill, what are McCain's policy's, where does he stand on the issues?"... >crickets< ... more >crickets< .. I found that funny because that's the same thing I've seen here in the blogs. Everyone can easily smear Obama, but it seems no one can tell me what they feel are McCain's attributes! Interesting!
Moral of the Story: You don't have to stand for anything so long as you're good at distorting the truth of your opponent.
Note: I'd think at this point, since every vote counts, people would spend time trying to change my vote in a way that would work, instead of bonding with those who are already planning to vote for McCain by slinging mud at Obama. But then again, sometimes logic just doesn't make sense to some!
My favorite response to asking fellow bloggers to teach me to LOVE their candidate verses trying to get me to hate mine:
"It's not my job to educate you".
Translation: "I don't know McCain's attributes"!
Cute little tidbit: My ex husband graduated from an Ivy league college with a degree in Political Science!
*smile*
Saturday, October 25, 2008
What if failure wasn't an option?
If you took failure completely out of the equation, how would your life be different? Would you go on a date; sky dive; try a new career; or maybe just go back to school? What would you do?
When we think of failure, we feel fear. Fear that the relationship might not work; fear that our parachute won't open; fear that we simply can't do that new career; or fear that we won't pass that college course.
The fear of the unknown is so powerful. It dictates every move we make. Our past experiences definitely play a part in our future choices. We're not born with fear, we learn it.
I stayed in a dysfunctional marriage for eleven years for numerous reasons. The initial reason was because divorce wasn't something anyone else had ever done in the history of my family! I'd be the first. I wondered how my family would feel, if they'd condemn me, if I'd be shunned. Then came the children. If I left my ex could I make it alone raising two little ones. I hadn't worked in several years and I knew I couldn't go back to my old career, so how was I going to support us? Sometimes life throws us a curve ball and we're forced to jump in, feet first, and battle that fear head on. That day for me was May 4th, 1994. That's the day I had decided that my children and I didn't deserve the life we had, regardless of the fear. Staying was much worse than leaving. So we left and never looked back.
It took me a long time to realize that I hadn't failed in my marriage, it just had a different outcome than what I had expected on the day that I said "I do".
I had gone from doing accounting prior to having the children, to working for a mortgage company when we went out on our own. I worked long hours, and my kids had to be in day care (something that I absolutely hated). So I decided to get my license in Mortgage Brokering. I took the course, passed the test with the State's highest score for that day of testing, and proudly received my license. I worked several more years with a mortgage company gaining all the knowledge I needed to start my own business. Finally, I had done it. I could work from home earning a full time income, and parent my children full time as well. I had it all. At least I had it all until about two years ago when the bottom fell out of the mortgage industry.
At first I thought I had failed in this industry, then I realized I hadn't failed at all. I simply accomplished all that I was supposed to during the fourteen years that I helped people achieve their dreams.
I'm now being thrust into a whole new life. I don't know what I'm going to do, or how my kids and I will even make it, but I have the faith that we can achieve whatever it is that we set our minds to.
The question that I now have for myself is: Why do I have to wait until I'm forced to make a change? Why can't I simply choose to not fear the unknown?
I guess you can only really fail if you choose not to try something. When you don't try, you can't succeed. But, when you do try you have to realize that although the outcome may be different than you originally expected, you've not failed at whatever it was. It ends up exactly the way it was supposed to end.
I'm probably not going to change any time soon, but I'm sure as heck going to try to! I'm tired living my life afraid of the "what ifs", because that's not really living! Though I've had a few relationships that haven't worked out as I had hoped in the past (haven't we all? LOL), that doesn't mean that the next won't be my forever. I've had a few careers that have died, but the next one, it may just end up being my dream job! The future is coming, why not face it without fear?
This blog segway's (sp?) nicely into Jim's question: "Why do I blog"? I blog to work out my problems; I blog to share my inner most feelings; and I blog so that future generations will know not only know my shell, but they'll know my heart. Why do I respond to blogs? Well, because I have an opinion, an opinion that matters - right, wrong or indifferent.
Failure really is not option as long as you try something new, and believe in yourself!
Friday, October 24, 2008
Why Women Should Vote
I wish I could say that I wrote this, but I didn't! I did though, feel the need to share this little piece of history. Sometimes we forget just how far we've really come, and how truly lucky we are!
***Why Women Should Vote***
This is the story of our Grandmothers and Great-grandmothers; they lived only 90 years ago.
Remember, it was not until 1920 that women were granted the right to go to the polls and vote.
The women were innocent and defenseless, but they were jailed nonetheless for picketing the White House, carrying signs asking for the vote.
And by the end of the night, they were barely alive. Forty prison guards wielding clubs and their warden's blessing went on a rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of 'obstructing sidewalk traffic.'
They beat Lucy Burns, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head and left her hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air.
They hurled Dora Lewis into a dark cell, smashed her head against an iron bed and knocked her out cold. Her cellmate, Alice Cosu, thought Lewis was dead and suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards grabbing, dragging, beating, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting and kicking the women.
Thus unfolded the 'Night of Terror' on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow Wilson's White House for the right to vote. For weeks, the women's only water came from an open pail. Their food--all of it colorless slop--was infested with worms.
When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press.
So, refresh my memory. Some women won't vote this year because why, exactly? We have carpool duties? We have to get to work? Our vote doesn't matter? It's raining?
Last week, I went to a sparsely attended screening of HBO's new movie 'Iron Jawed Angels.' It is a graphic depiction of the battle these women waged so that I could pull the curtain at the polling booth and have my say. I am ashamed to say I needed the reminder.
All these years later, voter registration is still my passion. But the actual act of voting had become less personal for me, more rote. Frankly, voting often felt more like an obligation than a privilege. Sometimes it was inconvenient.
My friend Wendy, who is my age and studied women's history, saw the HBO movie, too. When she stopped by my desk to talk about it, she looked angry. She was--with herself. 'One thought kept coming back to me as I watched that movie,' she said.
'What would those women think of the way I use, or don't use, my right to vote? All of us take it for granted now, not just younger women, but those of us who did seek to learn.' The right to vote, she said, had become valuable to her 'all over again.'
HBO released the movie on video and DVD . I wish all history, social studies and government teachers would include the movie in their curriculum I want it shown on Bunco night, too, and anywhere else women gather. I realize this isn't our usual idea of socializing, but we are not voting in the numbers that we should be, and I think a little shock therapy is in order.
It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized. And it is inspiring to watch the doctor refuse. Alice Paul was strong, he said, and brave. That didn't make her crazy.
The doctor admonished the men: 'Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.'
We need to get out and vote and use this right that was fought so hard for by these very courageous women. Whether you vote democratic, republican or independent party - remember to vote.
History is being made.
***Why Women Should Vote***
This is the story of our Grandmothers and Great-grandmothers; they lived only 90 years ago.
Remember, it was not until 1920 that women were granted the right to go to the polls and vote.
The women were innocent and defenseless, but they were jailed nonetheless for picketing the White House, carrying signs asking for the vote.
And by the end of the night, they were barely alive. Forty prison guards wielding clubs and their warden's blessing went on a rampage against the 33 women wrongly convicted of 'obstructing sidewalk traffic.'
They beat Lucy Burns, chained her hands to the cell bars above her head and left her hanging for the night, bleeding and gasping for air.
They hurled Dora Lewis into a dark cell, smashed her head against an iron bed and knocked her out cold. Her cellmate, Alice Cosu, thought Lewis was dead and suffered a heart attack. Additional affidavits describe the guards grabbing, dragging, beating, choking, slamming, pinching, twisting and kicking the women.
Thus unfolded the 'Night of Terror' on Nov. 15, 1917, when the warden at the Occoquan Workhouse in Virginia ordered his guards to teach a lesson to the suffragists imprisoned there because they dared to picket Woodrow Wilson's White House for the right to vote. For weeks, the women's only water came from an open pail. Their food--all of it colorless slop--was infested with worms.
When one of the leaders, Alice Paul, embarked on a hunger strike, they tied her to a chair, forced a tube down her throat and poured liquid into her until she vomited. She was tortured like this for weeks until word was smuggled out to the press.
So, refresh my memory. Some women won't vote this year because why, exactly? We have carpool duties? We have to get to work? Our vote doesn't matter? It's raining?
Last week, I went to a sparsely attended screening of HBO's new movie 'Iron Jawed Angels.' It is a graphic depiction of the battle these women waged so that I could pull the curtain at the polling booth and have my say. I am ashamed to say I needed the reminder.
All these years later, voter registration is still my passion. But the actual act of voting had become less personal for me, more rote. Frankly, voting often felt more like an obligation than a privilege. Sometimes it was inconvenient.
My friend Wendy, who is my age and studied women's history, saw the HBO movie, too. When she stopped by my desk to talk about it, she looked angry. She was--with herself. 'One thought kept coming back to me as I watched that movie,' she said.
'What would those women think of the way I use, or don't use, my right to vote? All of us take it for granted now, not just younger women, but those of us who did seek to learn.' The right to vote, she said, had become valuable to her 'all over again.'
HBO released the movie on video and DVD . I wish all history, social studies and government teachers would include the movie in their curriculum I want it shown on Bunco night, too, and anywhere else women gather. I realize this isn't our usual idea of socializing, but we are not voting in the numbers that we should be, and I think a little shock therapy is in order.
It is jarring to watch Woodrow Wilson and his cronies try to persuade a psychiatrist to declare Alice Paul insane so that she could be permanently institutionalized. And it is inspiring to watch the doctor refuse. Alice Paul was strong, he said, and brave. That didn't make her crazy.
The doctor admonished the men: 'Courage in women is often mistaken for insanity.'
We need to get out and vote and use this right that was fought so hard for by these very courageous women. Whether you vote democratic, republican or independent party - remember to vote.
History is being made.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
I was thinking...
Ya know, I was just sitting here thinking that if McCain and his supporters spent LESS time smearing Obama and his supporters, and MORE time talking about McCain's attributes (and the reasons why they believe he'd be the better choice to lead our Country), then maybe, just maybe, they could change a few minds! But, so long as the embellished, fictional smears, the degrading statements, and the down right ugly, condescending, holier than thou comments are being made, no minds will be changed!
Instead of focusing 100% of your efforts to try to convince me to hate my candidate, why not try to teach me to love yours!
This reminds me of something I learned as a child: You can win more flies with honey than you can with vinegar! Maybe someone should reiterate that to McCain and Palin too!
*smile*
Instead of focusing 100% of your efforts to try to convince me to hate my candidate, why not try to teach me to love yours!
This reminds me of something I learned as a child: You can win more flies with honey than you can with vinegar! Maybe someone should reiterate that to McCain and Palin too!
*smile*
Monday, October 20, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
For every OBAMA sign stolen or vandalized...
.. the campaign gets more money!! I guess there are a few Republican's out there biting off their own noses to spite their faces! *chuckle*
Here locally signs are stolen in what I'd consider record numbers! Also, Heaven forbid you have an Obama bumper sticker as that may just get your tires slashed!
On a more positive note, I haven't heard of any Democrat's resorting to this type of behavior! *smile*
Here locally signs are stolen in what I'd consider record numbers! Also, Heaven forbid you have an Obama bumper sticker as that may just get your tires slashed!
On a more positive note, I haven't heard of any Democrat's resorting to this type of behavior! *smile*
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Not that it matters... or does it?
This is a story from the Norwegian newspaper VG, the biggest newspaper in the country, from the October 4th, 2008 edition. Not that these things matter in today's dog-eat-dog world, but I found it quite touching, and I want to share.
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ÅSGÅRDSTRAND (VG): Mary was a newlywed and ready to move to Norway, but was stopped at the airport because she didn’t have enough money for the trip. Then a stranger turned up and paid for her.Mary Menth Andersen was 31 years old at the time and had just married Norwegian Dag Andersen. She was looking forward to starting a new life in Åsgårdstrand in Vestfold with him. But first she had to get all of her belongings across to Norway. The date was November 2nd, 1988.At the airport in Miami things were hectic as usual, with long lines at the check-in counters. When it was finally Mary’s turn and she had placed her luggage on the baggage line, she got the message that would crush her bubbling feeling of happiness.-You’ll have to pay a 103 dollar surcharge if you want to bring both those suitcases to Norway, the man behind the counter said.Mary had no money. Her new husband had travelled ahead of her to Norway, and she had no one else to call.-I was completely desperate and tried to think which of my things I could manage without. But I had already made such a careful selection of my most prized possessions, says Mary.Although she explained the situation to the man behind the counter, he showed no signs of mercy.-I started to cry, tears were pouring down my face and I had no idea what to do. Then I heard a gentle and friendly voice behind me saying, That’s OK, I’ll pay for her.Mary turned around to see a tall man whom she had never seen before.-He had a gentle and kind voice that was still firm and decisive. The first thing I thought was, Who is this man?Although this happened 20 years ago, Mary still remembers the authority that radiated from the man.-He was nicely dressed, fashionably dressed with brown leather shoes, a cotton shirt open at the throat and khaki pants, says Mary.She was thrilled to be able to bring both her suitcases to Norway and assured the stranger that he would get his money back. The man wrote his name and address on a piece of paper that he gave to Mary. She thanked him repeatedly. When she finally walked off towards the security checkpoint, he waved goodbye to her.The piece of paper said ‘Barack Obama’ and his address in Kansas, which is the state where his mother comes from. Mary carried the slip of paper around in her wallet for years, before it was thrown out.-He was my knight in shining armor, says Mary, smiling.She paid the 103 dollars back to Obama the day after she arrived in Norway. At that time he had just finished his job as a poorly paid community worker* in Chicago, and had started his law studies at prestigious Harvard university.In the spring of 2006 Mary’s parents had heard that Obama was considering a run for president, but that he had still not decided. They chose to write a letter in which they told him that he would receive their votes. At the same time, they thanked Obama for helping their daughter 18 years earlier.In a letter to Mary’s parents dated May 4th, 2006 and stamped ‘United States Senate, Washington DC’, Barack Obama writes**:
‘I want to thank you for the lovely things you wrote about me and for reminding me of what happened at Miami airport. I’m happy I could help back then, and I’m delighted to hear that your daughter is happy in Norway. Please send her my best wishes.
Sincerely, Barack Obama, United States senator'.
The parents sent the letter on to Mary.This week VG met her and her husband in the café that she runs with her friend Lisbeth Tollefsrud in Åsgårdstrand.-It’s amazing to think that the man who helped me 20 years ago may now become the next US president, says Mary delightedly.She has already voted for Obama. She recently donated 100 dollars to his campaign.She often tells the story from Miami airport, both when race issues are raised and when the conversation turns to the presidential elections.-I sincerely hope the Americans will see reason and understand that Obama means change, says Mary.
************************************
The picture included in this post is of Mary, her Husband, the the letter she received.Monday, October 6, 2008
I'm a Little Confused...
I understand that these aren't the issues that we should be concerned with, BUT, they seem to be what many are focused on. Maybe now we can get onto what truly matters!!!
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Dear Daddy
October 4th, 1988, 6:23 in the morning.
The phone rang.
I answered.
"Well, it's over".
I fell to my knees and cried.
You had died.
You just turned 59 two days earlier, you reached your goal. Your Dad died at 59, your Grandfather died at 59, and now you did too.
I miss you terribly. I ache. I've prayed to God to just give me one more minute. One more minute to hug you and tell you that I love you.
Your life started to end at the age of 26, when you saved the life of another. You always knew your time on this Earth would be short. I guess I just expected you to live forever. I remember asking you once that if you had it to do all over, would you have changed that day so that you could have lived longer yourself. Your reply, "absolutely not"! I guess your life was just as God had planned it to be. I sometimes wonder if that stranger you saved remembers you.
Six and a half months after you died, your first grandchild entered this world. He came to us as sick as you were when you left. To this day I believe he has your soul. Maybe that's a way for me to cope, maybe it's true. Regardless, it gives me comfort. I took him to meet you, I don't know if he understood, but we were there. I was pregnant with Sarah at the time, so she kind of got to meet you too. One day the kids and I will make it back up to WV to see you again. I hate that you're buried there.
Even though you had three sons, you always called me the son you never had. You took me fishing.. oh, I know, I was nothing more than a glorified pole holder, better than PVC right? *smile* I liked getting up before the crack of dawn, Mom packing you a thermos of coffee, and me a thermos of hot chocolate. We'd go net for bait, then sit on the rocks at the Jetty to catch whatever we could. Ya know Dad, it never mattered to me what we caught, I just loved spending that time with you. I miss that time.
When I was little, you took me to me to the races. I remember it was so cold. You wrapped the blanket around me to help keep me warm. The cars, they hadn't even started their engines and I wanted to go home. You didn't even get to see the first lap, you took me home, smiling all the while! You weren't even mad. I miss that time with you.
Sunday football. You'd sit there eating a peanut butter and sliced onion sandwich and drinking an Old Milwaukee beer. I remember the aroma like it was yesterday. You'd get so excited if the Buccaneers or the Dolphin's scored a touch down. Heck you'd even fuss at the TV if they made a bad call. I miss that scent, and I miss that time with you.
Remember when you went hunting? I hated you leaving me. I'd sit in my tiny rocking chair in the living room, in the dark, and rock for hours. I'd finally nod off to sleep and Mom would carry me to bed. I still have that chair. I miss missing you when I knew you'd come home, because now when I miss you, you can't come back.
Everything that you were, and everything that you did in this World, you did unselfishly for your wife and your children expecting absolutely nothing in return.. but gaining so much love from everyone whose heart you touched. I miss your love and I miss your heart.
I was talking to a friend the other day who lost her Mom. She read the letter that I wrote Mom and told me that she had wished she had done that for her Mother before she passed on. I told her she still can write it, that her Mom will know. So Daddy, do me a favor. Please find my friends Mom and tell her to look for that letter, because hers is coming! I know you see this, I know you hear my words, and I know the tears flowing down my face right now breaks your heart.. but Daddy, don't you worry about me, I'm gonna be just fine! I just miss you so much!!!
Your Grand kids, they're doing great! William was invited to join Phi Theta Kappa in college, and Sarah, she'll be graduating High School this year with honors. I see a lot of you in them. Their intelligence, their sense of humor, and their hearts.. they're amazing kids Daddy! I know you see them, but I wish y'all could have met. You would have made a WONDERFUL Grandfather!!!
Since I can't visit your grave as often as I'd like, I had to come up with something that would make this time "better" for me. So, each year, on October 4th, I go to a graveyard. I search for the single grave that it seems no one ever pays attention to, or visits. The stone covered in weeds; no flowers; no nothing.. so I adopt them. Yes Dad, I adopt a dead person. Then, for the rest of the year, I have someone to visit when I'm blue. Maybe this person is a friend of yours now.. who knows! It's just something that I need to do.
It's been twenty years and it still hurts so much! I'm glad it hurts though, because that way I know you're still very much a part of me!
I love you Daddy!
~Daddy's Little Girl
The phone rang.
I answered.
"Well, it's over".
I fell to my knees and cried.
You had died.
You just turned 59 two days earlier, you reached your goal. Your Dad died at 59, your Grandfather died at 59, and now you did too.
I miss you terribly. I ache. I've prayed to God to just give me one more minute. One more minute to hug you and tell you that I love you.
Your life started to end at the age of 26, when you saved the life of another. You always knew your time on this Earth would be short. I guess I just expected you to live forever. I remember asking you once that if you had it to do all over, would you have changed that day so that you could have lived longer yourself. Your reply, "absolutely not"! I guess your life was just as God had planned it to be. I sometimes wonder if that stranger you saved remembers you.
Six and a half months after you died, your first grandchild entered this world. He came to us as sick as you were when you left. To this day I believe he has your soul. Maybe that's a way for me to cope, maybe it's true. Regardless, it gives me comfort. I took him to meet you, I don't know if he understood, but we were there. I was pregnant with Sarah at the time, so she kind of got to meet you too. One day the kids and I will make it back up to WV to see you again. I hate that you're buried there.
Even though you had three sons, you always called me the son you never had. You took me fishing.. oh, I know, I was nothing more than a glorified pole holder, better than PVC right? *smile* I liked getting up before the crack of dawn, Mom packing you a thermos of coffee, and me a thermos of hot chocolate. We'd go net for bait, then sit on the rocks at the Jetty to catch whatever we could. Ya know Dad, it never mattered to me what we caught, I just loved spending that time with you. I miss that time.
When I was little, you took me to me to the races. I remember it was so cold. You wrapped the blanket around me to help keep me warm. The cars, they hadn't even started their engines and I wanted to go home. You didn't even get to see the first lap, you took me home, smiling all the while! You weren't even mad. I miss that time with you.
Sunday football. You'd sit there eating a peanut butter and sliced onion sandwich and drinking an Old Milwaukee beer. I remember the aroma like it was yesterday. You'd get so excited if the Buccaneers or the Dolphin's scored a touch down. Heck you'd even fuss at the TV if they made a bad call. I miss that scent, and I miss that time with you.
Remember when you went hunting? I hated you leaving me. I'd sit in my tiny rocking chair in the living room, in the dark, and rock for hours. I'd finally nod off to sleep and Mom would carry me to bed. I still have that chair. I miss missing you when I knew you'd come home, because now when I miss you, you can't come back.
Everything that you were, and everything that you did in this World, you did unselfishly for your wife and your children expecting absolutely nothing in return.. but gaining so much love from everyone whose heart you touched. I miss your love and I miss your heart.
I was talking to a friend the other day who lost her Mom. She read the letter that I wrote Mom and told me that she had wished she had done that for her Mother before she passed on. I told her she still can write it, that her Mom will know. So Daddy, do me a favor. Please find my friends Mom and tell her to look for that letter, because hers is coming! I know you see this, I know you hear my words, and I know the tears flowing down my face right now breaks your heart.. but Daddy, don't you worry about me, I'm gonna be just fine! I just miss you so much!!!
Your Grand kids, they're doing great! William was invited to join Phi Theta Kappa in college, and Sarah, she'll be graduating High School this year with honors. I see a lot of you in them. Their intelligence, their sense of humor, and their hearts.. they're amazing kids Daddy! I know you see them, but I wish y'all could have met. You would have made a WONDERFUL Grandfather!!!
Since I can't visit your grave as often as I'd like, I had to come up with something that would make this time "better" for me. So, each year, on October 4th, I go to a graveyard. I search for the single grave that it seems no one ever pays attention to, or visits. The stone covered in weeds; no flowers; no nothing.. so I adopt them. Yes Dad, I adopt a dead person. Then, for the rest of the year, I have someone to visit when I'm blue. Maybe this person is a friend of yours now.. who knows! It's just something that I need to do.
It's been twenty years and it still hurts so much! I'm glad it hurts though, because that way I know you're still very much a part of me!
I love you Daddy!
~Daddy's Little Girl
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