Well, it's going on May and the weather is beginning to change. The flowers are blooming and soon the dandelions will be covering my yard. (for me to eat, not kill) Everything smells so good and fresh here in holler paradise you would never know there was a storm brewing on the other side of the hill and across the river.
That's where the town is and where the depression is much more noticeable. Since I began this blog the only change that has taken place in town is a change for the worse.
Our new president is trying hard, but I believe he is just digging the hole deeper. Until we get the jobs back and available for our men and women it's all just smoke and mirrors anyways. Who cares about Wall Street when all around you Main Street is shutting it's doors and leaving empty store fronts behind?
Who cares how much profit the banks have made when you still have to sell your first born son in order to get a loan?
The government has given these institutions tons of cash, BUT . . . until jobs are available nothing changes in small town USA, period.
As the spiral continues I am beginning to see that some of my ideas concerning safe guarding my property are not going to work. I don't see my few neighbors all that interested in helping each other like I'd hoped. I'm beginning to believe that when it gets really rough it is probably going to be more like this little story I'm about to tell you.
It was sometime in the middle of a particularly black night on the island of Iromote during jungle school. I had stepped into a hole in the ground wearing a newly issued pair of jungle boots and twisted my ankle to the point of being unable to walk on it. I began to lag behind the column and finally went to my knees in pain.
Down the column rushed the squad leader. He bent down real close and whispered sweetly into my ear. "You had better shut the fuck up soldier! See that trail we're on? You either keep up with me or follow it back to camp . . . you're on your own!" He left and the column quickly disappeared into the night leaving me alone to fend for myself in that strange environment.
My rifle became a crutch as I began hobbling my way the five or ten miles back to our camp. Surprise! I thought you always helped out your comrades. John Wayne did. This butt head sergeant must have not gotten the message, he didn't even ask me how I felt. He only wanted to shut me up. Nobody loves me! I'm alone and scared in the big, bad, world! Now what?
First thing, you must absorb the pain. It hurts worse when you fight it.
Second, realize fully that you are on your own. You may get some help along the way, but don't expect it.
Third, think, think, THINK!
Move forward. Don't waste your time crybabying about your circumstance.
Use your survival skills. Listen intently to the night and be quiet. As you become accustomed to your new environment you will receive your vision and ultimately even learn to enjoy the experience.
That's where the town is and where the depression is much more noticeable. Since I began this blog the only change that has taken place in town is a change for the worse.
Our new president is trying hard, but I believe he is just digging the hole deeper. Until we get the jobs back and available for our men and women it's all just smoke and mirrors anyways. Who cares about Wall Street when all around you Main Street is shutting it's doors and leaving empty store fronts behind?
Who cares how much profit the banks have made when you still have to sell your first born son in order to get a loan?
The government has given these institutions tons of cash, BUT . . . until jobs are available nothing changes in small town USA, period.
As the spiral continues I am beginning to see that some of my ideas concerning safe guarding my property are not going to work. I don't see my few neighbors all that interested in helping each other like I'd hoped. I'm beginning to believe that when it gets really rough it is probably going to be more like this little story I'm about to tell you.
It was sometime in the middle of a particularly black night on the island of Iromote during jungle school. I had stepped into a hole in the ground wearing a newly issued pair of jungle boots and twisted my ankle to the point of being unable to walk on it. I began to lag behind the column and finally went to my knees in pain.
Down the column rushed the squad leader. He bent down real close and whispered sweetly into my ear. "You had better shut the fuck up soldier! See that trail we're on? You either keep up with me or follow it back to camp . . . you're on your own!" He left and the column quickly disappeared into the night leaving me alone to fend for myself in that strange environment.
My rifle became a crutch as I began hobbling my way the five or ten miles back to our camp. Surprise! I thought you always helped out your comrades. John Wayne did. This butt head sergeant must have not gotten the message, he didn't even ask me how I felt. He only wanted to shut me up. Nobody loves me! I'm alone and scared in the big, bad, world! Now what?
First thing, you must absorb the pain. It hurts worse when you fight it.
Second, realize fully that you are on your own. You may get some help along the way, but don't expect it.
Third, think, think, THINK!
Move forward. Don't waste your time crybabying about your circumstance.
Use your survival skills. Listen intently to the night and be quiet. As you become accustomed to your new environment you will receive your vision and ultimately even learn to enjoy the experience.
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