I found this draft blog post today after seeing another attempt of the Obama administration using coercion to try and override the Democratic process. Things haven’t changed in over a year. smh.
[cont. from almost a year ago]
This quote I ran into this afternoon is worth pondering… put the most recent ruling aside, because no matter which side you are on, you should smell danger.
Some of the most recent areas of contention: marijuana, Obama Care and equal rights based on sexual proclivities underlines a growing pattern: when the government overrules the democratic process, how long will it be before the people rise once again to say “enough is enough”?
Today, I can think of only one thing that is providing the glue that keeps us in a cohesive bond across this country… and that alone, is scary, given its ephemeral, coercive nature: money and the federal reserve bank. How long will states allow their constitutional sovereignty to be overridden based on the color of printed paper? How would the government respond if states decided to secede from the union?
We need to find a democratic way to bring us back to our democratic roots, because, based on history, our republic is not really “our” republic, and ‘our’ government, created by the people and for the people, will not hesitate to take unilateral action to remain in control… it’s the nature of humanity.
Definitely worth pondering…
Here is the quote:
“It appears the American Experiment (i.e. can man, acting in concert with his Maker, govern himself free of despots and tyrants) has largely terminated after only a couple of hundred years. I am thankful to God to have been given a fleeting glimpse of the tail end exiting freedom’s door.”
There is something indescribable and wondrous about the vast and endless sea. The call of the ocean, echoing in history, throughout the future. I cannot recall physically going into the ocean for the past 30 years. It is an amazing feeling, a feeling of both insignificance and of fortitude: insignificance in the realization of how tiny and insubstantial I am, but strength in realizing that of all creatures in creation this world was made for me.
I, as human, represent the pinnacle of crowning achievement for creation; the most complex, the most intriguing of all creatures with my abilities to think and love and reason in unique ways: being granted the blessing (or curse) of being one of the few known reasoning creatures that will spend most of my lifetime contemplating my own mortality.
I started this weak on Cocoa Beach officiating the wedding of my brother-in-law, and new sister-in-law: Jeremy and Rebecca Jewers. It was an honor and a privilege to be asked to perform the ceremony, it is the second time in my life I have been called upon to do such an amazing thing. Marriage is as wonderful as birth, and baptism; both representing a transition, a newness, a transformation from old to new; from form to form.
The wedding started with the scene from the Princess Bride: Mawage, Mawage is what bwings us togethwer today. It was the perfect fit, a perfect couple: a farm boy turned pirate and a princess. Two people, that were meant to be together.
On our last night on the beach, Amanda and I were taking a walk down the beach in the moonlight and we ran into a majestic but ominous looking foot long crab. We were in awe at his size and amazed at his beauty, until we saw that he held in his claw a baby hatchling loggerhead turtle.
We immediately went into rescue mode. I took on the crab (and he was vicious!) and encouraged him to drop the turtle (ok, I might have kicked him in the rear with my bare foot while Amanda kept his attention). Then, while I kept the crab occupied (he continued coming after me), Amanda guarded the baby turtle as it made it to the water.
In the end, we both were able to watch the turtle swim out to sea, and we then returned to the crab to take a picture of him. He belongs on the wall of shame! This was one of the most amazing things I have experienced in nature.
We are now preparing, after a full week of God’s beautiful nature to head back to the city of San Antonio. We miss friends there, but honestly, we are not overly excited to go back; we miss the nature, the openness, the sea breeze of the east coast. It’s hard to say what the future will hold for us, but one thing for sure. Home is where the heart is, and there is no place like home.
LOGIODICE, PETER PAUL, JR. Peter Paul Logiodice, Jr., age 85, of Orange, passed away on Thursday, March 27, 2014 peacefully in his home. He was born on June 25, 1928 in West Haven to the late Peter Paul and Anna Pucillo Logiodice, Sr. He was employed for over 35 years as a Cable Splicer for the Southern New England Telephone Company. After retiring, he drove a bus for the Orange School System. An active member of the community, he was a member of the Orange Volunteer Fire Department and was a coach for the Orange Little League, an avid gardener and camper in Cape Cod and in his spare time, he attended his grandchildren’s sporting events. Mr. Logiodice is survived by his loving wife, Veronica Molyneux Logiodice, devoted children Peter Paul (Dawn) Logiodice III of Maine, James (Jackie) Logiodice of Rhode Island, William (Roseann) Logiodice of Guilford, CT, Kathleen Logiodice of Madison, CT, Veronica (Louis) Pisano of Orange, CT, Russell (Bouaneung) Logiodice of Milford, CT and Jennifer (Paul Fischer) Logiodice of Idaho, 20 grandchildren, 15 great grandchildren, and sister Mary Benz of Orange. Besides his parents, he is predeceased by his son Thomas John Logiodice, grandson Louis Pisano Jr., brother Pasquale Logiodice and sister Ann Passariello. The family appreciates all the help and support of the nurses and staff at Milford Hospital and Life Choices Hospice. Calling hours are Monday, March 31, 2014 from 4:00 pm to 7:00 pm at the Smith & Sefcik Funeral Home, 135 N. Broad St., Milford. A Mass of Christian Burial will be celebrated on Tuesday at 10:00 am directly in Holy Infant Church, RaceBrook Rd, Orange. Internment will follow in St. Lawrence Cemetery in West Haven. Donations may be made in his name to Life Choices Hospice, www.lifechoicehospice.com, or Orange Volunteer Fire Dept., 625 Orange Center Rd., P.O. Box 878, Orange ,CT 06477 or Leukemia Society, 300 Research Parkway, Suite 310 Meriden, CT 06450. To leave condolences or for directions, please visit our website at: www.georgejsmithandson.com
Four Generations of ‘Pete’
Weep not for those who have gone on before; but for those who are left behind. #NoTearsInHeaven
The blog has been down for a couple months – blame it on the juniper; although the Cisco is still acting flakey. In the mean time, life is about to change drastically for me (again). This week marks the last week of my graduate level courses.
After friday, I will have conferred upon my personage the Degree of Master – and there will be time in my life for new and different things. I think I shall require everyone to call me “Master Jediah” from now on. It’s only fitting for the accomplishment, right? 😉
So in futuristic contemplation, I have no idea what I am going to do with my life yet. School has consumed every waking free hour for the last 6.5 years. So this weekend, I will be celebrating the new life. I guess.
I will break the posting silence by stating: and so the next chapter advances, the page turns, the sun cycles on yet another day: opportunities await. To me, my next directive is to go forth and live – whatever living looks like.
As a parent, I want to encourage my children to think and act ‘out of the box’. When I was young, I was weird, I was among the first to start dying my hair different colors in our small town in Maine, I was among the first to start shaving designs into my head and my eyebrows. I was among the first to start wearing mismatching shoes or socks, wearing my ties around my forehead instead of around my neck… and the list goes on and on.
I want to encourage my children to think differently than everyone else, to march to the beat of their own drum… in fact, at least one of my children, not only march to the beat of his own drum, he invents new types of drum-sticks! I want to encourage that!
So to show my support, I wore my tie to Church today. Yes, there were thousands of people that don’t know me. yes, there are hundreds of people that stared awkwardly. Yes, there were even a few people that commented on and appreciated my tie.
These are the years that they will learn to dance and skip and hop to the music in their head, and not someone else’s tune.
It was very ironic today that Randy from Oak Hills church quoted one of his old professors when he said: “Everyone is born unique, but most die a copy”. Today was my day to remind my children to be themselves – no matter what.
I must say that I am lucky that I only had only one child that made me something wearable this year.
Yet, I wore this to church as I have never really been one to worry about what people think of me – just ask my own parents.
Happy Father’s day to all you Father’s out there.
So tonight while reading Little House in the Big Woods, we were reading the chapter about Pa and the Bear – and Donovan was surprised to find that the book is based on a true story.
I followed up the conversation telling Donovan about my bear story.
Back when we were kids we lived in a trailer that my father had bought, and he had used a chainsaw to cut some doors out of the trailer. One such door went into a wood shed that dad had built onto the side of the trailer, and then out into the “tool shed”.
Because the trailer was up on cinderblocks, you had to step down into the woodshed before opening the door to go out into the toolshed. Once in the toolshed, you had to walk through the shed, out into the night, up the hill and around “the path” to get to the outhouse.
One summer evening my mother had went out to go to the bathroom and when she walked down into the woodshed, she heard scratching and growling in the toolshed. She immediately ran back into the “house” down the hall, and jumped into bed waking my father up telling him there was a bear stuck in the toolshed.
Dad grabbed his gun, went down the hall, down into the woodshed, and opened the door to the toolshed, at which time his pure white german Shepard named “Sam” came bounding into the house. Apparently Sam had been left outside, and really wanted to get back in.
As I was wrapping up this story, Donovan turned and looked at me in bewilderment, and said: “I don’t get it, didn’t your dad have to disable the house alarm first”. 🙂
When it is 74 inside it is really cold when it is 90 outside…
When we were children there wasn’t much for entertainment; we had dirt, rocks, sticks and water. Mix them together and you could make some mighty fine toys. The closest store was probably 10+ miles away – that doesn’t seem that far by today’s standards, but on bikes or by foot – it was.
The water came from a hand pump well; you’d have to pump and prime it over and over to get anything out – but the water was ice, ice cold, and had a very slight taste of iron… it was a good taste. Showering involved heating water over a hot stove, and pouring it out of “showering cans”. I always thought everyone in the world knew what a showering can is – but I’m not so sure now.
The bathroom was a hole in the ground, covered at least by four walls and a roof – but in the winter or at night it was a daunting, cold or scary undertaking. At the same time, in summer evenings, it was a great opportunity to sneak out into the night and catch fireflies or raid the garden, although the coyotes, bears, moose and other wild critters that frequently were heard stalking through the night requires great courage to venture forth.
There was very little that we ate that wasn’t grown or raised, that’s just how it was. The planting, the tilling the weeding the gathering, and the canning. The vegetables, the rabbits, the chickens, the turkeys, the wild berries, apples, elderberries, blueberries, strawberries. They were all handpicked, or raked. I had to help in the butchering, it was part of life.
When it was 20 below outside, it was 20 below inside. The layers and layers of blankets, cast off when needing to make a run outside to the outhouse; but there was always a warm stove burning in the center of the house built with slat boards and no insulation.
The single pane of glass, frosted over in the winter with cold air creeping through the cracks around the door, around the window, through the wall boards and up through the floor boards. But the sound of crickets in the summer, like they were sitting in the same room… they probably were.
The root cellar full of fresh vegetables, and lizards; damp, cold, dirt. Just a whole in the floor of the closet, and a whole dug into the earth.
Life is so much different now than it was then. Was it better? It’s hard to say. You worked hard every day of your life, you slept hard each night. Our world is a very different place now. My kids will never understand what life WAS like. Which brings me to the topic at hand.
I have started reading Little House on the Prairie to my children. It is amazing the number of emotions it stirs in me, not only as I recall it being read to me when I was a child – we had no other entertainment at night when the sticks and rocks and dirt and water were put away. But, I remember what it was like to live off the land – Jeremiah Johnson style, I remember what it was like to live in a house that was made of drafty slats, to live in the wild woods, I even, to some extent, remember how hard it was to live – none of the high tech, drive over to the store and run a piece of plastic through a machine and they bring out food prepared and ready to eat.
Not that life today is bad; I’m not sure I could go back to the “good ‘ole days” – but I wonder, sometimes I even yearn for those more simple days.
I am going to love reading this series to my children it makes me homesick for childhood, nostalgic – and perhaps, just perhaps, they will get a small amount of vision as to what life used to be like.