Traitors and Heroes and... rose-colored glasses

( the views stated here are my very own and you are allowed to disagree... as long as you remember that I respect your right to your views and expect the same courtesy as well...after all, that is what America is all about)

In the news they are promoting the interview with Edward Snowden...
A kid who grew up in my area...
who actually was in elementary school with my son-in-law.

A poll of american viewers has 60% calling him a patriot...
40% a traitor.

I don't have any answers, but...
Seriously, does the American public believe that it is okay for one person to directly jeopardize the lives of operatives around the world because the public NEEDS TO KNOW?

Why do we need to know?
Does knowing make a difference?

Well, actually, I think it does make a difference.
In a bad way.

I know that there are things the government does that I do not know about...
I probably don't even agree with...
But, I accept that in order to make my world a safe place things get done.

Covert operations happen all over the world that John Q Public has no knowledge of...
But these operations make the world a safer place for John Q Public.

And when JQP finds out about these things what does he do?
He complains about the rights of people to privacy and full disclosure...

If JQP would step back and look at the operations that have been declassified and use his imagination to imagine what would have happened if any one of them had not been carried out...

What a very different world we would be living in.

One where we speak German?
One where there are no Jews or any organized religion?
One where Mother Russia is alive and well and covers the entire globe?
One where every state is a separate country?
One where being different, having an opinion, being able to voice an opinion, are punishable by death?

And the list could go on and on and on and on...

So, John Q Public...
instead of complaining about what you see as an infringement on your rights...
stop and think about those rights and why you are able to have them...

Those men and women who have been fighting and dying...
on and off the battlefields of the world...
since Columbus stepped foot in the Americas..
Those HEROES who have been striving to make a difference since the beginning...
They deserve respect...and the same rights as everyone else...

And try, just try, to wrap your mind around the idea that the rest of the world is not a nice place and is filled with bad people...
As is our own country...
and isn't making it harder for those bad people to win...
well, isn't that what all of this is really all about?

Not everything is black and white...
But looking at the world through rose-colored glasses isn't the answer either...

The story of Me... Me the Nurse, and Me the Mom

The other day I started a series of posts, about why I started posting in the first place.

I decided today I would explain a little bit about why I am a nurse, or perhaps, how I got to be one would be more accurate.

When I was 14 I had a baby girl. The baby girl grew up to be my daughter- GoodMom.

She was born in the early hours on the morning after she was due, after just 5 hours of labor.

She weighed in at 9 pounds 3 ounces.

Because I was so young, and she was so big, special attention was paid to us in those first pre-dawn hours.

Then I was moved into a private room. She stayed with me, her bassinette at my bedside.

I fed her, changed her, held her and snuggled with her until I was too tired to hold her anymore, and she was sound asleep, wrapped up like a cocoon.

After putting her into the bassinette, I discovered the head of the bead would not go down. There was a hand crank at the foot of the bed, so I climbed out of the covers and tried to crank it down. It only creaked and groaned at me. I had developed a fever- thus the private room- and was not to be out of bed or up on my feet for very long because... well, no one actually ever told me why.

So, here I was in the middle of the night, tired, cold and wearing nothing but a hospital gown with my backside hanging out ...
when I heard footsteps in the hall, and as they got closer I could hear whispered voices. They stopped just outside my door. I was embarassed because I broke the bed, and feeling really weak and tired. I was about to call out for some help when I heard what the nurses were saying.

They were saying awful things about me. About me having a baby so young. About the kind of person I must be. About how I would never be able to take care of a child properly. About how I should be ashamed of myself and the mess I had made for my family.

Quietly, I crept back into the bed. Or should I say climbed as by now the bed was at it's highest setting and the head of the bed was at a 90 degree angle. I had broken the bed, and I did not want to cause the nurses any problems so...

The night nurse came in a little while later and asked what I had done to the bed. I told her I liked it that way, it was more comfortable. She shook her head and said something about me breaking the bed, being trouble...

I slept in that bed, with the mattress set at nearly 3 feet off the ground, sitting completely upright, with one hand through the railing, laid gently against my little girl's cheek so I could make sure she was breathing. So I could take care of her the way a mom should.

A year later I had the opportunity to be accepted into the Nursing school program at the local Vo-Tech. I would take the community college nursing course for half a day though my sophomore, junior and senior years of high school- if I got in.
Part of the process was an interview with the instructors. One of them asked me why I wanted to be a nurse. They knew I had a child, and like so many other teachers and instructors, they did not see past that to the person I was inside.

So, I told them the story of the night my daughter was born and how I broke the bed.
And how that nurse with her mean attitude, and judgements of me, had made me feel sad, alone and worthless. And that if I could prevent one person from feeling the way that nurse had made me feel, then I would have done something worth doing. I wanted to be a nurse because I wanted to help others get better and feel better.

I got into the program. I took high school classes half days and nursing classes half days for 3 years. I took advanced classes in high school and kept my grades up. I took college level classes like microbiology, anatomy and physiology, psychology and pharmacology and kept my grades up.

I worked several part time jobs to help my boyfriend support our daughter. I did homework late at night while she slept. I played soccer. I was in the band. I was inducted into the National Honor Society.
I worked hard to prove everyone wrong about what kind of person I was. What kind of mother I would be. What kind of person I would become.

And that is why, 26 years ago- June 8, 1984- I graduated from Nursing school, one day before I graduated from high school with honors as a National Honor Society member, and as a student in the top 5% of my class- I was ranked 14 in a class of 431. My grade point average included my college level nursing classes and my high school classes... it was 3.84.

I think I did a good job. I think I proved to everyone I could do it. But mostly, I proved to myself that I only needed to do what I needed to do for me, and my children. In the end, the only one that I had to make proud of me, was me.

And that is why I am a nurse who works nights and takes care of sick kids.

Bet you thought I was going to add a little something to make you laugh here, right?
Well, just picture me on my hands and knees trying to fix the crank on that hospital bed- I did say I was wearing a hosptial gown, right?
The kind with nothing to keep them closed in the back?
Yep- hiney in the air and head under the bed... thank god the nurse didn't walk in then!

Friday Foto Feature...

Seeing the World thru the eyes of BratChild...





Friends come in all shapes and sizes...





Be a Friend ...

Give Your Support...




Show You Care

To Write Love On Her Arms-

Friday Foto Feature...better late than never!

Photography by BratChild

A girl's best friend?


Reflections...


A Girl's Best Friend... Really!



Please take the time to check out the link below to To Write Love On Her Arms... an organization both BratChild and I whole-heartedly support!

It's THE right thing to do!

To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide.


The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that each year approximately one million people die from suicide, which represents a global mortality rate of 16 people per 100,000 or one death every 40 seconds. It is predicted that by 2020 the rate of death will increase to one every 20 seconds.

The Right thing.... It's THE THING to do

Monday is always a busy day.
A hectic day.
A day I would rather do without.

This week Monday was even worse than usual.
More hectic, more rushed, more filled with 'stuff' because of the things that had been put off from the weekend.
But those I did not mind. Those I knew about in advance and could plan for.

The email notice that made the day awful?
That was unexpected.
Unwanted.

Another young man of my acquaintance died Monday May 10, 2010.
In a far away, hot and sandy place. Protecting people he did not know, because it was the right thing to do.
Because he believed in the rightness of living a life free from oppression and tyranny. In the freedom to worship your God and to teach your children without fear and judgment from others. In the preservation of a country's people and their beliefs and their ability to be more and do more for themselves.

These are the things he died for.
These are the things worth dying for.

Marine Cpl. Kurt Shea - a Senior DeMolay aged 21 died Monday May 10, 2010 in Afghanistan. Far from his home and family, but never far from the thoughts and hearts of those who loved him.

Pictured: Some of his DeMolay brothers

I do not always agree with the politicos and their posturing. Their ideas. Their arguments.

But I always support our troops. Our boys in blue, in green, in camo... who do the right thing because...

It's the RIGHT thing to do.