The Heart Not Just Another's blog: "Just another thought"

TAKE ACTION – SAY “NO” TO A FEDERAL TAX INCREASE ON CIGARETTES! Learn what you can do at stoptheFETincrease.com or call toll-free 1–866–527–4494. Congress is talking about raising cigarette taxes again by as much as $6.10 per carton. But as smokers know, cigarettes are already one of the most highly taxed products in the country today. In fact, since the year 2000, state and federal cigarette excise taxes have been increased over 73 times – driving up the average price of cigarettes over 80%. Everyone should pay their share of taxes, but a federal tax increase on cigarettes is an unfair burden on smokers – especially when these taxes fund a wide–range of expanding government programs that benefit everyone. And as cigarette sales decline it’s an unreliable source of revenue. Singling out smokers for a 156% increase in the federal cigarette excise tax is going too far – tell Congress enough is enough. Copy and Paste into a new window http://stopthefetincrease.com/

~Be kinder than necessary, For everyone you meet Is fighting some kind of battle~

On Jeopardy recently, the final question was How many steps does the guard take during his walk across the tomb of the Unknowns ------ All three missed it --- This is really an awesome sight to watch if you've never had the chance. Very fascinating. Tomb of the Unknown Soldier 1. How many steps does the guard take during his walk across the tomb of the Unknowns and why? 21 steps. It alludes to the twenty-one gun salute, which is the highest honor given any military or foreign dignitary. 2. How long does he hesitate after his about face to begin his return walk and why? 21 seconds for the same reason as answer number 1 3. Why are his gloves wet? His gloves are moistened to prevent his losing his grip on the rifle. 4. Does he carry his rifle on the same shoulder all the time and if not, why not? He carries the rifle on the shoulder away from the tomb. After his march across the path, he executes an about face and moves the rifle to the outside shoulder. 5. How often are the guards changed? Guards are changed every thirty minutes, twenty-four hours a day, 365 days a year. 6. What are the physical traits of the guard limited to? For a person to apply for guard duty at the tomb, he must be between 5' 10' and 6' 2' tall and his waist size cannot exceed 30.' Other requirements of the Guard: They must commit 2 years of life to guard the tomb, live in a barracks under the tomb, and cannot drink any alcohol on or off duty for the rest of their lives. They cannot swear in public for the rest of their lives and cannot disgrace the uniform {fighting} or the tomb in any way. After two years, the guard is given a wreath pin that is worn on their lapel signifying they served as guard of the tomb. There are only 400 presently worn. The guard must obey these rules for the rest of their lives or give up the wreath pin. The shoes are specially made with very thick soles to keep the heat and cold from their feet. There are metal heel plates that extend to the top of the shoe in order to make the loud click as they come to a halt. There are no wrinkles, folds or lint on the uniform. Guards dress for duty in front of a full-length mirror. The first six months of duty a guard cannot talk to anyone, nor watch TV. All off duty time is spent studying the 175 notable people laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery. A guard must memorize who they are and where they are interred. Among the notables are: President Taft, Joe E. Lewis {the boxer} and Medal of Honor winner Audie Murphy, {the most decorated soldier of WWII} of Hollywood fame. Every guard spends five hours a day getting his uniforms ready for guard duty. ETERNAL REST GRANT THEM O LORD, AND LET PERPETUAL LIGHT SHINE UPON THEM. In 2003 as Hurricane Isabelle was approaching Washington, DC, our US Senate/House took 2 days off with anticipation of the storm. On the ABC evening news, it was reported that because of the dangers from the hurricane, the military members assigned the duty of guarding the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier were given permission to suspend the assignment. They respectfully declined the offer, 'No way, Sir!' Soaked to the skin, marching in the pelting rain of a tropical storm, they said that guarding the Tomb was not just an assignment, it was the highest honor that can be afforded to a serviceperson. The tomb has been patrolled continuously, 24/7, since 1930. God Bless and keep them. I don't usually suggest that many emails be forwarded, but I'd be very proud if this one reached as many as possible. We can be very proud of our young men and women in the service no matter where they serve. IN GOD WE TRUST This article is NOT 100 percent accurate but very close. To see the inaccuracies and the facts please go to http://www.snopes.com/military/unknown.asp

BY --Rick Monticello The department was all astir, there was a lot of laughing and joking due to all the new officers, myself included, hitting the streets today for the first time. After months of seemingly endless amounts of classes, paperwork and lectures, we were finally done with the Police Academy and ready to join the ranks of our department. All you could see were rows of cadets with huge smiles and polished badges. As we sat in the briefing room, we could barely sit still, anxiously awaiting our turn to be introduced and given our beat assignment or, for the lay person, our own portion of the city to "serve and protect." It was then that he walked in. A statue of a man -- 6 foot 3 and 230 pounds of solid muscle -- he had black hair with highlights of gray and steely eyes that make you feel nervous even when he wasn't looking at you. He had a reputation for being the biggest and the smartest officer to ever work our fair city. He had been on the department for longer than anyone could remember, and those years of service had made him somewhat of a legend. The new guys, or "rookies" as he called us, respected and feared him. When he spoke, even the most seasoned officers paid attention. It was almost a privilege, as a rookie, to be around when he'd tell one of his police stories about the old days. But we knew our place and never interrupted for fear of being shooed away. He was respected and revered by all who knew him. After my first year on the department, I still had never heard or seen him speak to any of the rookies for any length of time. When he did speak to them, all he'd say was, "So, you want to be a policeman do you hero? I'll tell you what, when you can tell me what they taste like, then you can call yourself a real policeman." This particular phrase I had heard dozens of times. Me and my buddies all had bets about just "what they taste like" actually referred to. Some believed it referred to the taste of your own blood after a hard fight. Others thought it referred to the taste of sweat after a long day's work. Being on the department for a year, I thought I knew just about everyone and everything. So one afternoon, I mustered up the courage and walked up to him. When he looked down at me, I said, "You know, I think I've paid my dues. I've been in plenty of fights, made dozens of arrests, and sweated my butt off just like everyone else. So what does that little saying of yours mean anyway?" With that, he merely stated, "Well, seeing as how you've said and done it all, you tell me what it means, hero." When I had no answer, he shook his head and snickered, "rookies," and walked away. The next evening was to be the worst one to date. The night started out slow, but as the evening wore on, the calls became more frequent and dangerous. I made several small arrests, then had a real knockdown-dragout fight. However, I was able to make the arrest without hurting the suspect or myself. After that, I was looking forward to just letting the shift wind down and getting home to my wife and daughter. I had just glanced at my watch, and it was 11:55. Five more minutes, and I would be on my way to the house. I don't know if it was fatigue or just my imagination, but as I drove down one of the streets on my beat, I thought I saw my daughter standing on someone else's porch. I looked again, but it was not my daughter, as I had first thought. It was a small child about her age. She was probably only six or seven years old and dressed in an oversized shirt that hung to her feet. She was clutching an old rag doll in her arms that looked older than me. I immediately stopped my patrol car to see what she was doing outside her house at such an hour by herself. When I approached, there seemed to be a sigh of relief on her face. I had to laugh to myself, thinking "She sees the hero policeman come to save the day." I knelt at her side and asked what she was doing outside. She said "My mommy and daddy just had a really big fight and now mommy won't wake up." My mind was reeling. Now what do I do? I instantly called for backup and ran to the nearest window. As I looked inside, I saw a man standing over a lady with his hands covered in blood, her blood. I kicked open the door, pushed the man aside and checked for a pulse, but unable to find one. I immediately cuffed the man and began doing CPR on the lady. It was then I heard a small voice from behind me, "Mr. Policeman, please make my mommy wake up." I continued to perform CPR until my backup and medics arrived, but they said it was too late. She was dead. I then looked at the man. He said, "I don't know what happened. She was yelling at me to stop drinking and go get a job, and I had just had enough. I just shoved her so she would leave me alone, and she fell and hit her head…" As I walked the man out to the car in handcuffs, I again saw that little girl. In the five minutes that had passed, I went from hero to monster. Not only was I unable to wake up her mommy, but now I was taking daddy away, too. Before I left the scene, I thought I would talk to the little girl. To say… I don't know what... Maybe just to tell her I was sorry about her mommy and daddy. But as I approached, she turned away, and I knew it was useless, and I would probably make it worse. As I sat in the locker room at the station, I kept replaying the whole thing in my mind. Maybe if I had been faster or done something different, just maybe that little girl would still have her mother. And even though it may sound selfish, I would still be the hero. It was then I felt a large hand on my shoulder. I heard that all too familiar question again, "Well, hero, what do they taste like?" But before I could get mad or shout some sarcastic remark, I realized that all the pent up emotions had flooded the surface and there was a steady stream of tears cascading down my face. It was at that moment I realized what the answer to his question was… Tears… With that, he began to walk away, but he stopped. "You know, there was nothing you could have done differently," he said. "Sometimes you can do everything right and still the outcome is the same. You may not be the hero you once thought you were, but now you ARE a police officer." --Rick Monticello, Somersdale PD, New Jersey

I reach to you with out stretched arms You know that I am here And every time I try to touch You pull away in fear I've never tried to hurt you Or take away what's yours But when I try to love you It's like fighting raging wars Life's too short to waste it On one who just won't care And there will be no next time My love has gone elsewhere

Passionate ploy Body distressed Mind set racing Spirit impressed Totally everything Simply a plea Hold me tightly Set me free Anyone present Look not this way In single heartbeat My passion to play Pieces entirely Together apart Body and soul Being and heart

Dearest Friends, I dearly respect and support your social conscience. There are many great causes with brilliant minds shoving them forward. I find it extremely difficult to run from sandbox to sandbox trying to gather enough information to make an educated decision about who is correct and who is serving an agenda they eagerly forget to mention. Is our home, world, universe at threat? Of course it is. Can we as members of the world society do anything to prevent the destruction we see on the horizon? Maybe but to do so we must sacrifice our personal beliefs and issues for the greater good. Will that happen? NO! We all have things for which we would do anything. I will protect my mother, my family and my home. I will fight for every persons right to be who they want to be, do what they want to do and most of all say what they want to say. BUT will this make any difference in the grand scheme of things? Probably not unless I am willing to give up my freedoms, needs and desires to campaign for what I believe will make a difference. My beloved friends, there is a paradox in every desire. We all know that most everyone agrees about most of today's issues. We want peace. We don't want anyone to die for economic reasons or political gain. I am not privileged at being smart enough to discern the truth in all the garbage that is being handed out. There are a couple of things that I am absolutely sure of. Saddam had an agenda. North Korea has there finger on button that could send us all back to the stone age. Bush isn't a very smart man. Do we know and can we control what these crazy people are going to do? No. We speculate, guess and pray someone gets their agenda straightened out and wakes up sane one of these days. Do I do nothing you ask? Does nothing make me angry or emotional enough to act? I do something everyday ... I quietly tell and teach my friends and family and whomever else will listen, to be still and quiet each and every day. Look to yourself for happiness and then share that path those you love and care about. I could make myself crazy worrying about the nuclear issues and war and starving children and the list is endless. If you clean your own house, wipe out the hatred and fear, make yourself an open, loving, happy person then you set the stage to share that with others. I am NOT saying don't worry be happy, what I am saying is that many great things have been accomplished when human kind can see beyond the prejudice that lives in the blackest part of a persons heart. Just think about what motivates these huge gapping sores we live with in our world. Greed. Power. Fear. Prejudice. These are the plagues that we live with. These are the things that have made us what we are today. This is what one person can do. Remove the log from your own eye. Help your brothers and sisters to see more clearly. Not what you want them to see but what is truly there. Strip away the parts of your humanness that make you ugly and self-serving. Give of yourself freely without clouding who you are in a trendy issue or facade. Do not judge anyone .... ever because you just don't know. You don't have to be foolish trust everyone but you must give everyone exactly what you want for yourself; nothing more ... nothing less. There is only one thing more precious than the earth ... each and every single person carrying that piece of God they were sent to earth with. Friends, we don't' have to agree on this. But I wanted you to know that I Love You dearly. I wanted to give you a piece of my heart. I will confess this is not what I always do but it is what I always strive to do and what I will keep sharing until the day I die. Forever and Always yours, B

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. "A fight is going on inside me" he said to the boy. "It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil--he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is good--he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith. This same fight is going on inside you-and inside every other person too. The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?" The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one we feed." Author Unknown

I have been ask many times why no picture. The answer is quite simple. This virtual place is filled with images. Some are true and some are not. My physical image is not some sweet young thing. I would rather ... if you have the interest ... talk with me online; send me an email; read my blog; scan my pictures and listen to the music I have chosen. All of these thing will tell you more about me than any photograph ever would. Coexisting Peacefully, Barbara

The clouds stand tall above the surrounding landscape, spanning far across the horizon. How easy it is to ignore their granduer. How sad the knowing that the skys complete perfection goes unnoticed by all but a upward looking few. Those few are continually lost in the peacefulness strewn majesticly there. They drink of the quiet calms and the raging storms. Absored in the changing vistas. It is not just observing the weather but being one with all the other upturned faces. The faces of those who looked up and shared their being with the Sky.