Decisions, Decisions! 
Posted on April 18, 2014 by billyraychitwood


                                         Decisions, Decisions!

Chocolate or Vanilla? Baked potatoes or French Fries? Movie out or Television at home? Go or stay? Read or Write?

Decisions, Decisions!

At times, family and individual decisions are made with ease and nonchalance, simple no-brainer reflexes. These are generally minor decisions quickly acceptable to those concerned. Other decisions, major in their circumstance and consequence, can affect family, friends, neighborhoods, even, nations. The latter encompasses decisions made by leaders and representatives we choose to run our country’s affairs.

History shows us decisions made by world leaders that have meant death for millions of people, created dysfunctional economies, and scarred the souls of so many. As a bewildered child I saw the reflections of Pearl Harbor and World War Two on the faces and in the actions of my broken family. Later I served in the Korean War, became acutely aware of despicable despots and their greedy and selfish decisions that destroyed so many lives and indelibly stamped the ugly memories into millions of minds. Vietnam and all of its horrific death scenes marked another period where insanity ruled, where our young and promising men and women returned to their homes damaged by the atrocities they had seen and of which they had been a part.

Decisions, Decisions!

‘9/11’ happened and the United States felt the incipient scourge of radical Islamic Terrorism on its homeland. The US was stunned and also fully awake to another assault on its great land of opportunity, freedom, and liberty. The entire fabric of our ruling document, The Constitution, was also under assault. The founding fathers wove a delicate and precise fabric based on Judeo-Christian principles, delineating powers within our governing body – the Executive Branch, The Legislative Branch, and the Judicial Branch – laying out carefully crafted amendments, including the Bill of Rights. Most among us, scholars and citizenry, believe this document is the very best vision for governing and for the rule of law among a civilized society.

Now, many Conservatives see our current Liberal-ruling government in majority control of both the Executive and The Legislative Branch moving with a secular progressive tide toward a nebulous system that has all the earmarks of Socialism. When a one-party administration builds a constituency on a platform of entitlements and promises, when one party pits class against class and falsely uses race allegations, when one party takes away an individual’s freedom of choice, when one party doles out welfare checks that de-incentivizes people to work, when one party builds a healthcare behemoth that strangles the economy and is but another long stretch of bureaucratic pavement on the road to a ‘strange new world’, when one party creates more regulations and taxes to stifle job growth and entrepreneurs’ business ventures and investments, when one party’s leader promises and does not deliver transparency and solutions to IRS one-sided meddling, eavesdropping, and Benghazi, THEN the framework of our democracy begins seriously to dismantle.

Decision, Decisions!

Change is good! Change should come with the blessing of history’s lessons. Why is it that we can resent so easily the wealthy among us? It is generally those folks who provide jobs for the needy and it is those who pay the major share of taxes so government can hopefully keep us safe, the school doors open, and the pork barrels filled to the rim. Why are we so blithely misled into believing that we should all be equal in all things? Certainly, we are born with equal rights and the opportunities to go as far as our ambition, our intelligence, and the fire in our bellies will take us. Why is it that some of our government leaders eschew their responsibility of truth to the people who hired them? The people we elect work for us, not the other way around. May I repeat that? The people we elect work for us, not the other way around.

So, here I sit, trying to make some sense of our nation’s not so subtle moves toward mediocrity. This I do know: the United States is the greatest nation on earth, the most charitable, the most virtuous, and the most diverse. We are a nation of immigrants, and it is right that we expect all who come to our cities and states to assimilate, learn our language, become Americans, and accept our democratic ideals. To live in freedom and liberty does attach some responsibility to our diverse people. Otherwise, denying our heritage and moving away from those things that have made America great, we move toward division and anarchy.

Yes, I am old and used up, but I care about the direction my country will take in the years ahead. I love my wife, our children, and want the best for them. I am not a man of great wealth, except for the wealth of family and friends, and I do not envy or resent the rich – the vast majority work hard for what they have, provide jobs for many, and give generously to the charities of their choice. I bear no racial hatred as I accept an individual for her/his character and principles. I know that, with each generation, there comes change…my only wish is that the change is based on the pages of history, the lessons we have learned.

I want an honest government that only hides from me that which I should not know for national security’s sake. I want no intrusive government. I want a government that provides a safety net for the elderly, the handicapped, those who truly need the help…we have that safety net and it could be that we need to do more in some areas. I want a fair and sensible immigration plan…secure borders…a plausible timeline for citizenship…illegals must register within six months…workplaces must register illegal workers…no work, no stay in country…seasonal work programs…must assimilate and learn English…do crime, deportation…no welfare until citizenship achieved. I want parents to have choices in sending their children to school. I want the strongest military in the world to preclude any country or any faction from considering a conflict against us.

Decisions, Decisions!

Some decisions can lead to severe conflicts. We want leaders who have war and work experiences. Leaders make decisions based on many factors. Most decisions should be common sense and for the good of the majority. History’s lessons should be a guiding force in all major decision making…causes/effects for the fall of Rome…causes/effects for Hitler’s Germany…causes/effects of Stalinist Russia… History’s lessons!

My humble suggestion is that we do not currently have the right leadership in our country. November, 2014, is an important election time – as is November 2016. We have heard the promises and half-truths of this administration. Do we not all want our freedom and liberty intact without false rhetoric that sounds so eloquent and hopeful but is empty and void of performance?

Yes, our nation is changing, seemingly moving away from those ideals and principles that made us the land of the free and the home of the brave. Arrogant atheists who form their ‘anti-christian’ groups can now post a banner in the Capitol Building in Madison, Wisconsin which reads: ‘Nobody died for our sins,’ Jesus Christ is a myth.’ We live in a great country that allows free speech so that is their right, their right on Christian occasions, Easter, Christmas, to make their pronouncements. Why is it that these secular progressive thinkers of such ‘supreme thought’ hate so many of our Christian faith? Why do they not turn their venom toward radical Islam extremists? Do they fear that their heads might be chopped off? They likely know that Christians turn the other cheek.

Okay, maybe I say too much. Maybe I anger too many with this kind of honest thought. Yet, it is what my mind and heart speaks to me, and I share it with you for whatever value you might receive from it.

Frankly, I would much prefer writing ‘flash fiction’ or working on my new book, but I do care about my country and feel the need to express my concerns…my ‘right’ as an American.

Decisions, Decisions!

My recently published book, Joe Public’s Political Perspective, carries forth my concise and simple thoughts about government, politics, and some of the issues of our day… Hope you might read it.

http://www.about.me/brchitwood

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http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA (My IAN – Independent Author Network – with my books)

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Please leave a comment if so inclined. 

Joe Public’s Political PerspectivePosted on January 8, 2014 by billyraychitwood1


2014 – A Critical Year – BUY THIS BOOK!

JUST PUBLISHED! Buy it at http://www.goo.gl/WPweKh Amazon US andhttp://www.goo.gl/CGp7bm Amazon UK

Simple message from a simple man! I want no government that chips away at my freedom and liberty, that denies me free access to my aspirations and dreams, that would dare make personal decisions for me, that deceives me with its rhetoric! It is, indeed, a critical 2014 that ‘We The People’ must face. My plea, my prayer, is that we do not let our democracy slip away.

You can follow me at Twitter (@brchitwood)

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http://linkedin.com/billyraychitwood)

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      The drive was not so long from Rocky Point, MX, where I currently live on The Sea of Cortez, to Oceanside, California where our family had a week-long get-together at a lovely resort hotel on the shores of the Pacific Ocean. The family members were sharing lovely suites on the same floor of the resort, meeting each night in a larger communal suite where we all, old, medium-old, young, grandparents, parents, kids, grand-kids, all frolicked passionately and not so passionately with our faithful libations, some timeless tales and experiences re-lived, heard in an earlier time but always fun and laughable when heard again... "Remember the night when we..." --- well, you get the setting...

Some of us played golf at Torrey Pines (South Course) - amend that to read, the writer of this post tried to play a few holes while the other three golf members did play all eighteen holes -  I rode in the cart the final nine holes as the rust on my game was beyond removal. It was nonetheless a beautiful day of sunshine and there was scenery that will be forever etched in the memory room - and, there were some really good golf shots by some of the participants.

There were discussions, even the dreaded never-to-be mentioned politics and religion. We talked about the disabled, the hungry, the poor, the sick, all those who longed for better lives. We prayed for those less fortunate than we. We felt no special favor or privilege that we could come together as a family. We worked hard for what we had or for what it was we were seeking. We talked about our country and our world, the new technologies, the new 'machines,' where we might be heading. We had our views but we had no real answers to the world's problems. We all wished for a world of love and peace, but understood the myriad of differences among all people made this universal dream likely an impossibility. No one came away bloody. Everyone claimed their love for each other after all was said and done. Some California friends and neighbors from years past dropped by for drinks and dinner a couple of nights - and, yep, we got to hear some of the same stories we heard on previous nights.

Each new day brought the ocean mist that would burn off by mid-morning, bringing the world famous California sun. Some of us went to see the old mission at San Luis Rey. Some walked the pier at Oceanside and ultimately sunbathed at the beach. Each day brought some new activities, together as a family and apart.

For me, it was somewhat a study in the family dynamic. There were people who cared for each other very much, each different and yet alike, each speaking of things that meant a lot or not a twit, each with pure hearts and noble ambitions, an entire group of which it is a matter of pride for me to belong. My thoughts often wandered off to my own childhood, not always the best of memories but plenty that gave feelings of warmth. I thought of my Mom, my Dad, and my sister. They are no longer with me, hopefully up there with 'Clarence' and his bells, but I find it still so easy to miss them, along with two sets of loving grandparents that attended me in my youth.

This little family get-together had most of the right ingredients...  There were some family members not there who were missed and loved. I can also hope that a few friendly ghosts of my youth were nearby - just wish I could have had some special moments with them again - thto tell them how much I truly loved them.

There are weeks that bring us blessings. There are weeks that bring us sadness. This week of family was special to me. They were moments perhaps better remembered in diaries than in public blogs, but, in watching the dynamic of these special family members for a week renewed some wishes I have for other families who might not be so lucky to get together on a California beach, who might be struggling to pay their bills, who might very well feel that this week of which I speak is exclusionary tripe --- and, really, who could blame them? If there is a message here, it is that all families hit some ugly times. I know that my family did. There is also the message of hope - though it might seem to be dwindling for some, try to hold on to it. Some of us are lucky. Some of us, not so much. But we are all part of a whole, part of the universal scheme of things. Maybe we all can never quite get together but we can remember that we are part of a great big dynamic - we are all part of 'the passing parade.'

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How often do you look up there?  That big old sky that presents all its patterns? The clear lucent blue with old Sol hanging around? A few wisps of clouds that enhance the palette of your mind? A thick set of dark impending cumuli that carries lots of moisture, with perhaps a patch of blue just off to the west? A clear dreamer’s night of a million plus stars? How often do you look up there?

Quite often for me… You see, I’m one of those restless and rudderless romantics that cannot somehow find that magical glue that pastes me to one place. So I look up there quite often and ponder not only God’s great handiwork but the course of history and mortal confusion and doubt. Mostly, it’s my own mortal confusion and doubt, but, certainly, I would be totally blind not to see it all around me. The people of the world, peasant-types, power brokers, movers
and shakers, all of us send out our queries to the universe in moments of that mortal confusion and doubt. Individual, global, it matters not, we fight our wars within these fragile bodies created during that nine-month miracle in time when we become who and what it is we are meant to be. Some of us with doubt and confusion speak in different tongues, make a wrong translation, push a wrong button, and cause a war. Some of us have been passed the torch of hate from generation to generation, will seemingly ever know only one way to relieve their confusion and doubt. Some of us, even amid our doubt and confusion, will create a masterpiece map for living in freedom with liberty and justice for all. And, some of us add to our confusion and doubt, forget the lessons of history which in the relative span of mortal time were only yesterday.

Somehow, I’ve managed to somehow understand that we all cannot come together in peace and understanding in my mortal lifetime. The efforts of good intentioned people have really become just silly simple games played among those who pursue their selfish political agendas. An accord is reached only to be broken. An ally becomes an enemy. An enemy becomes an ally… All silly power games that silly power men and women play.

When I look up there, in that sky that gives us sometime hope, sometime fear, I only ponder my simple existence and must come to some conclusion as to why I am here on this rotating sphere. The only reckoning that I can make is that no simple big bang caused all of this mortal confusion and doubt. When I look up into that sky of many faces there is but one conclusion, one truth that for me makes all the sense in this world. It is the truth that has been passed down to us from the beginning of our time, on cave walls, on papyrus, in the bible, the truth that has been maligned, reorganized, and otherwise discounted for centuries, the truth that has become debatable sport among some elites and scholars. It is the truth that a Supreme Being,
God, controls all of our destinies. Otherwise, why do I and so many have our faith? Why would we contrive so much to make something so?

Our God gives us so many examples to how our mortal moments could and should be spent. He gives us so many paths our lives could take, to provide help for those who need, to forever act as peacemakers, to quell the urges of the dark essence that would possess us… Our God gives us free will to act out our choices. And, what makes God’s plan so wonderful is that we get to do it over and over again until we get it right. In His time, our mortal months and years are but fleeting seconds. There is death on the mortal plain, but you must believe, you must have faith, that you will never forego God’s ultimate plan. At some point along God’s timeline, no matter how many mortal lives it might take, you will reach that magical light of eternity.

It’s always up there. When I look up and penetrate the blue and dark of sky, that is what I see, out beyond the far dimensions of space… Family, Hope, Love, Peace, Eternity.

And, sometimes, I sing and write about it…

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There are some things we feel, instinctively know, that we hold dear and very few counter positions can sway those special holdings. I'm talking about the feelings we have about the books we read, our children, our faith, family values, friendships, movies, political views, television shows, and other venues of thought that generally fall under the 'subjective' heading. These are things shaped by the merging of our childhood and adult hemispheres, feelings and thoughts that are inveterate, solidified, and otherwise likely not to undergo major alterations during our lives. Yes, there will be room for modification to these basic parts of us but, in most instances, they will speak of who we are to those people who might care to know us.

No big startling revelations in the foregoing paragraph. You know of what I write here. These determining factors bring us our world communities, our caste systems, our classes that define supposedly where we belong in the hierarchy of groups. Some of us are not as lucky as others, perhaps born into poverty, wealth, or somewhere in between. Some of us don't get the luck of the draw on that intelligence quotient chart. It is all well and good that each of us has our very own unique DNA network, but we will find our ways into the groups in which we apparently belong. Sure, there are those in the poverty group who are blessed with a promising IQ and have a burning desire to move into another group. There are those in the wealthy group who do not get an accompanying IQ that is promising, but they are less likely to go to another group. There are those in all the groups who are handicapped in some way. Some are skinny and stay skinny. Some have a propensity for weight gain and with some exceptions, stay overweight. There is some universally unwritten codex for determining who among us is cute, handsome, pretty, and who is not so. Funny, the way this programming came, the evolution from ape to man or the intelligent creation that places us where we are. We are born as equals perhaps but we don't stay that way.

When I hear, read, and/or see something spectacular that I don't understand like space/time continuum theories, galaxies, universes, black holes, splitting atoms, generally the mathematical and scientific stuff, I'm really out of my league - or, my group. I'm dumbfounded and fascinated by the world of cyberspace and all the technological advances, by quantum physics, by the rapid doubling of knowledge, by parallel worlds, by the 'Star War' movies, by the digitally enhanced Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarentino films, and by some of the marvelous books that envision worlds that I might or might not want to inhabit... Aah, the things I don't know! We truly do have geniuses who give our lives adventure, excitement, and new knowledge. But, gee, it is also truly staggering the things I don't know.

I guess maybe it comes down to this. In all that programming by God (I'm in that group!), it's like He gives us this big rock of knowledge and each of us chip off a bit of this huge boulder and that becomes our main interest in life. Einstein with his chip gives us that theory of relativity thing. The Greek, Euclides, with his chip gives us his Mathematical theories. Michelangelo takes a large chunk of that rock and gives us Art with his Italian Renaissance brilliance - like, the man does it all as an architect, an engineer, a painter, a poet, a sculptor! Bill Gates and Steve Jobs (recently departed) with their chips off the rock of knowledge add so much to our devilishly exciting world of the internet.

With my chip, what am I giving? I write blog posts, books, poetry, and songs. Poverty is where I begin my journey. Along my way, there are many mistakes. There is membership in that aforementioned Middle group, and I don't quite make it to that Wealthy status. It is my belief that God did give me a gift, much of it frittered away over time in gin mills and romantic pursuits, and I'm now trying to make up for the lost time. Whether my humble writing appeals to the hungry readers of our E-world day remains to be seen. My books are simple reads without a lot of complicated and convoluted plots, but I do promise the reader that pieces of me are there on and between the lines.

It is truly remarkable this new digital world in which I find myself, and I'm planning to stay awhile. I'm slowly adapting to the internet world, immersing myself in the merry madness of it all. I'm even giving away free books on amazon, one at a time. This next five days my first fictional memoir is FREE at amazon - fictional but over ninety percent accurate. The title: "The Cracked Mirror - Reflections Of An Appalachian Son." The true non-fictional brother to this book is just recently out (shamefully, 100% true): "What Happens Next? A Life's True Tale." These two books have seven more of my fictional books as company on amazon. For the next few weeks (for five days on amazon each week) my plan is to give away a free book.

It's my observation that this is a great time for readers. It is also a great time for authors and writers of all genres. Possibilities are unlimited. What amazes me is the incredible talent that is among us. What utterly confounds me in my reading is discovering the things that I don't know.

Please follow me on twitter (@brchitwood), check me out and scroll the 'home' page on my main website/blog at http://www.goo.gl/TeQpP. There's a quick bio sketch and a number of links at http://www.about.me/brchitwood. I belong to the following author groups: ASMSG, IAN, AHA, and TBSU. You can browse my books at http://www.goo.gl/fuxUA or scroll down the 'home' page of my main website/blog (above).

“What Happens Next? A Life’s True Tale” (An excerpt)
Posted on December 10, 2012 by  billyraychitwood1      
      
Like a picture that is worth a thousand words, it’s my thinking that an excerpt from an author’s book can reveal enough pro and/or con for a reader to determine whether or not he/she wants to read further. So, here’s an excerpt from my newest book, “What Happens Next? A Life’s True Tale,” a non-fiction sketch of my life. It is a relatively short book which covers my Southern Baptist roots, the state of my faith, and some not so savory confessions of how I have lived my life. The book might very well be deserving of any label one wishes to put on it, but it is disgustingly honest and true.

Here is an excerpt from the Early Adult section of the book… 

The couple resides in a second floor apartment on a lovely tree-lined
street in Williamsport. It is Sunday afternoon, and Steven Ray is sleeping in
his crib just off the living room. The wife is ironing. The husband is listening
to classical music and day dreaming, idly chatting time to time with his wife.
It is a soft afternoon somewhere between bliss and boredom.

Somehow, the conversation turns to the first month of their marriage when
the wife left Washington, D. C. for Williamsport to await her husband’s Navy
discharge. The wife is telling him about an affair she had with an old high
school boyfriend during that month she was away. It is an attempt to purge
herself of the guilt of that not so long ago tryst. The wife is wrought with the
pain of the revelation but she must be done with her guilt.

The man’s world suddenly caves in on him and he is lost in the frenzied
twittering quake of his neuronal wiring. The man is immobilized by the wife’s
confession, hardly able to move and speak. He is mindful that the time frame of
his wife’s unfaithfulness happens to coincide with the birth date of Steven Ray
and this fact adds to the anxious frenzy within his mind.

Hardly able to breathe, the distressed man leaves the apartment and his
sobbing wife. He wanders to houses of in-laws and leaves abruptly, leaving them
to ponder his dazed, pained expressions. He moves mechanically as though willed
to robotic, mindless action. He drives aimlessly and finally sits on a bench in a park,
trying to get his brain to work, trying to figure out what he must do.

The thoughts tumble down to him: ‘Is he my son? Should there be a blood
test? Do I leave? Do I stay? Where do I go? What do I do?’ He finds himself
opening his memory pages to the feelings he has when his father beats his
mother. It is that same kind of feeling of helplessness and hopelessness.

The man feels lost like that little boy of yesterday.

He returns to the second floor apartment. His wife’s eyes are red and
swollen from her crying and she is so very sorry. For whatever reason, baby in
the crib, the honesty of her confession, her sobbing wish for forgiveness, or
the simple expediency of the moment, the man forgives his wife and stays. He
simply finds it easier to capitulate, to be done with it, than to continue with
the aberrations of his mind. It seems he is an emotional cripple, unable to
handle the traumatic matters that enter his space. It is his wont to place the
blame for his inability to handle stress on his mobile and uncertain past. Is it
time for the shrink’s sofa? No, he will not give in to that.

Strangely, life is fairly good for the couple until a Sunday afternoon
gathering at Lycoming Creek’s edge in Montoursville. It is a peaceful spot where
families gather, pull their cars to the water’s edge for washing, allow their
children to wade in the shallow waters, have their picnic lunches. It is a wide
creek, and the mother-in-law’s cabin sets among the trees some hundred yards
across from where the families, cars, and kids are gathered.

A beautiful day is about to get very ugly…

That dreadful ill fated Sunday afternoon begins with all the family
oriented activities the man would want. He drinks beer with his men in-laws. The
men are gathering, lounging outside on soft comfortable chairs, looking across
the creek at the families on the other side of the river. He listens to the men
tell of their different job experiences and participates with his occasional
anecdote laced with humor.

The sun shines in a near cloudless sky, and the women bring their plates
of goodies out and spread them on the picnic table for the men to prepare and
eat at their leisure. It is the sort of day the man has always factored into his
vision of family purpose and unity. He sits with baby Steven on his lap,
alternating his adult talk with baby talk.

The man’s wife sees across the creek a family she knows, takes baby
Steven from his lap, and walks through the shallow water to the other side. The
man watches as the wife sweetly engages a young couple in conversation there at
water’s edge. A peculiar sensation hits him and at once he somehow knows that
his wife is talking to the man who could be the father of his son.

The man sits, his mind filling with accusatory, hateful thoughts. He is
lost to all conversations around him. He is riveted to the moment and the
building storm within him.

The wife and Steven shortly return, and there is a confrontation. He
cannot deny his own disturbing thoughts and must know if he is correct in his
presumptions. His wife tells him the truth. It is the old boyfriend with whom
she had the previous January affair. She does not feel that her husband has a
right to question her innocent move to say hello and show off her son. She does
not give any priority to the husband’s own perception of yet another betrayal.
She feels she has done nothing wrong in saying hello to an old boyfriend and his
wife.

The words are cross, sharp, designed to hurt. There is no stifling
anxiety now for the man, just red-hot anger. The husband abruptly and with
little fanfare leaves the hillside retreat. He motors away from the family
gathering. He is not sure where he is going but he knows he must be away. The
harsh words between the couple and the quick revving engine of his car driving
away are not lost on the in-law family gathering. Except for baby Steven crying,
all is quiet on the hillside.

Clad in a white t-shirt, dungarees, and sock-less brown penny loafers, he
goes to a military club recently joined. It is a private drinking and eating
club for veterans situated in South Williamsport. There the sourly disposed man
drinks away the afternoon, gets rowdy, surly, becomes obnoxious with some
patrons, and is asked to leave. It is dusk. He is drunk. He is unsteady and
sorely without the faculties he needs to drive his car.

After he crosses the bridge into Williamsport and turns onto the street
where he lives, he drives into some parked cars along the curb, damaging three.
He is less than a block from home. He is still inebriated but stunned back to
some semblance of awareness.

He sits at the curb as police come and a crowd gathers. He fights with a
policeman when the latter tries to put him in a cruiser and take him to jail. He
is clubbed by the cop just above the right eye. Now, his t-shirt and pants are
covered with the dirt and blood of the scuffle.

He finds himself for the first time in his life in a jail cell, and as 
his sobriety slowly returns to him it might just as well be hell. His mind
begins with the scenarios. Some are woefully unclear in the focusing. He sits on
the hard cot in the small enclosure, his head throbbing with pain and
uncertainty. With his head bowed, he relives the hours of the Sunday afternoon,
the act by his wife he perceives as betrayal, the military club drinking as
plain stupid, and the ramming of the parked cars, the cop fight, as priceless in
‘Keystone Comic’ hilarity. He is not laughing, however. He is in a particular
black abyss of his own making.

The man mentally shovels on his guilt, plays the pity games, and
self-decrees that his life is over. He stands at the bars of his cell and weakly
yells at the jailer on night duty, pleads to be let out of his claustrophobic
nightmare. The jailer is kind to the man, tells him that morning will come soon,
that everything will eventually work out…

This ends the excerpt from “What Happens Next? A Life’s True Tale.” Should
you care to read the entire book, please visit amazon.com (US and UK) and/or my
website/blog and scroll down the ‘Home’ page to my books. There you will find
the links for purchasing the book — paperback, kindle and/or other e-book
formats. Here is the link to my Website/Blog: http://billyraychitwood.weebly.com

Where Did Christmas Go?
Posted on December 1, 2012  by  billyraychitwood1      
     
Okay, Christmas has not gone anywhere. It is still the birthday of Jesus, a great man, and, for many, a Savior. Jesus gave birth to the philosophy of Christianity and he gave us many golden rules by which to live our lives. He was a simple man with a richness of heart, mind, and soul who sought to provide all of us, the poor, the rich, the disabled, with a vision beyond ourselves and beyond our problems. From the teachings of Jesus came many branches of religion to satisfy the soul-needs of many.

For some among us, Jesus has little or no meaning beyond His mere existence. For some there is no religion that has meaning. For some there is only this life that we shall live. For some, death brings down the final curtain…an eternal darkness. These people among us have this right to their secular non-belief in God, in Christianity, in all that is Holy. The Christian and the secular can walk side by side, be friends and neighbors, be tolerant of each other’s views.

For me, I say Happy Birthday, Jesus! I say, Merry Christmas to all and a Happy New Year. I say, enjoy the lighting of your Christmas Tree and the presents you place beneath it. It is the Yuletide season. It is a holiday season. Christmas is a federal holiday. Our Constitution was formed by those of Judeo-Christian values. We allow for a separation of Church and State in our federal and state business. Why is this not enough.

From the polls we get the information that ninety per cent of us Americans still want a Christmas holiday, a Christmas tree, presents under the tree. We ninety per cent see this time of year as a time to spread love, peace, and good will. Is that really so bad? Why is it that some want to make such a big deal about calling a Christmas Tree a Holiday Tree? Why is it that a Nativity Scene is no longer allowed in certain venues? Why is it that the majority does not seem to govern our affairs because of the ‘suffering’ minority?

When does this madness end? When do the encroaching seculars finally take over our country? When does the politically correct get to rule every aspect of our lives? Where did Christmas go? Have we not given in enough to the these minority groups? Can we still keep in place some vestige of our heritage as a nation? I know changes must come as we outgrow some primitive laws on the books. Some of our language must change when it is so obviously insulting to some. Some things just need changing. The difference between conservative and liberal does not escape me, not does ‘far right’ and ’far left,’ nor does ‘moderate,’ ‘progressive,’ ‘extreme.’ Neither of these groups will ever win all the political and social battles, but could we just call ‘Time Out’ for this beautiful season that is now here. Most of us will, but could the zealots call ‘Time Out’ as well. And, yes, I know the liberals want to blame the conservatives, the ‘talk show’ fringe, certain news channels, and it likely doesn’t really matter to most of us. It just seems to come up each year, this issue of ‘Christmas Tree’ versus ‘Holiday Tree,’ the issue of ‘Nativity Scene Displays,’ the issue of ‘Merry Christmas’ and ‘Happy Holidays.’ Guess we can say both, ‘Merry Christmas’ and ‘Happy Holidays.’ It just bothers me when some retailers warn their workers only to say ‘Happy Holidays’ because ’Merry Christmas’ might offend someone. So many of us have become hesitant in uttering something so naturally spoken over the years.

Christmas will never be for me the way it was so many years ago. I’ve aged and the season in upon me and past me before I know it. I overheard an argument about all this ‘Christmas Tree’ and ‘Political Correctness’ stuff and it just bothered me. Guess it’s kind of natural for an anachronism like me to be bothered.

Guess it’s kind of natural for an ‘old dog’ like me to wonder, ‘Where Did Christmas Go?’