tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11238499682054584382023-11-16T01:13:47.374-05:00Footnotes and CommentaryThoughts and observations, then and now, from five decades as a broadcast journalist and explorer in the poetic realms of expression.Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.comBlogger2447125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-26801773086225245552019-09-10T09:30:00.004-04:002019-09-20T16:08:22.614-04:00Afterward...<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="dttlo" data-offset-key="q3b8-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); color: #1c1e21; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
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<span data-offset-key="76kij-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">At every anniversary of nine-eleven New York City resonates with the memory of so many who passed. Its a beat of a collective heart. A soft, yet persistent empathetic pulse that says there is life, and pain here.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="65iee-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Ever since September 11th, 2001 the out-breath of our city has been a sigh. The sharp in-breaths acknowledge the continuing ache of emptiness and loss. What follows all loss, however, is an expectation of renewal, and the youth of hope, for life will go on.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="2097v-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Life abounds today in the faces and the actions of people as they move above and below the cobbled cracks of our streets and sidewalks and it dwells in the quarried homes and window stacks of human life and families.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="eegea-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">For many people, even years after this tragedy, life is lived with whimpered smiles and the annealed skin of hard hurts. But below all of the pain, all of the loss, all of the tears, all of the memories, there is a definite rhythm to our city, you can feel it. It sings, and its heart says, “I am.”</span></div>
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-63875972015494290122019-09-08T11:51:00.004-04:002019-09-08T11:51:53.396-04:00Nature<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Sunsets tell us many things besides ending our day with<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">the golden light of a day’s appreciation or the evening’s<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">anticipation. Even if we don’t think about it on a conscious<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">level, our spirit, our essence anticipates a time of rest.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">It is also a time of connection to the dreams of<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">wonder and pieces of information sent encrypted in <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">images to the theater of the mind. Messages of love and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">counsel from loved ones, our guides or the Source<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">are displayed on the screen of thought only to be<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">unremembered in the morning light </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">─</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">unremembered, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">but not unfelt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Flowers are evidence of spiritual life. Their innate passion<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">for finding and following the light sets an example for us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">conscious and aware beings. Even the poorest and dullest<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">looking flowers exude joy as they blossom into a brief but<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">beautiful existence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Would that man could find similar joy in his brief existence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">What change this world would then see!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-74307978434899391882019-08-30T16:09:00.001-04:002019-08-30T16:09:29.357-04:00Another way: The Power of Thought<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
Why have I been silent for nearly six months? No posts despite dynamic events, both politically and socially.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The short answer is that I am concerned about the commonwealth of our nation. I am disturbed that many in Congress fail to see that partisanship leads to unfairness for the common man, common sense, and the common good.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Before my chrysalis of silence, all I wanted to do was to criticize the daily erosion of grace, courtesy, and compromise and warn against the surging extremes on all sides.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I stopped writing because contributing to a negative narrative was not a solution. I needed to think about a different way. What hasn’t been tried before and how it might work. I was even willing to consider that America changed so much that it might be impossible to get back to the core values of freedom and democracy, tolerance for all opinions, and intelligent debate with polite rhetoric.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What I concluded requires some explanation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I believe thoughts have powerful energy. I think group thoughts are exponentially powerful. These pieces of energy can be positive or negative. If we bombard our leaders with negative energy, it affects them. This is not to mean we should tolerate lies, disparaging insults, and prejudicial elitism, but a thought of positive energy might help change things. If we send benevolent energy to our elected officials, it may help them see and be the light of positive change.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I will always call out inappropriate, illegal, and demeaning behavior from all leaders, but I will not make it my focus for it is counter-productive to the divine light that guides everything.<o:p></o:p></div>
Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-65641122816812300492019-03-18T15:59:00.000-04:002019-03-18T16:00:22.531-04:00Sorrow in New Zealand<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Tears of Christchurch<o:p></o:p></div>
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©2019 Rolland g. /Smith<o:p></o:p></div>
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Please tell me when the tears will end;<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you know.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Hate must descend and love transcend<o:p></o:p></div>
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Someday.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The One God of all, loves us in sooth;<o:p></o:p></div>
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Unconditional.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There is no one path to this truth<o:p></o:p></div>
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All ways go there.<o:p></o:p></div>
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To find a way out of your fear.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yes! Fear.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Let it go and love will appear.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Today.<o:p></o:p></div>
Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-41802316339938030452019-03-13T22:55:00.003-04:002019-03-13T22:55:24.583-04:00JapanI just spent seven days in Japan. Overall it was a great trip. Specifically, it was magnificent. I spent time in Kyoto, Hiroshima, and Tokyo. Some general observation on the culture.<br />
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In all my tourist walking in the cities of Kyoto and Tokyo, I never heard a car horn. There was heavy traffic, but it flowed. Nobody crosses the street when the light is red. Everyone waits until it green to pass. Japan is the cleanest country I've ever visited. No debris, no scraps of paper, no detritus of any kind, anywhere. Try to find those three things in New York City.<br />
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I'll share many observations about the ancient capital Kyoto in coming posts. Today I want to share some of my visit to Hiroshima. Profound is a word we often overuse. My day in Hiroshima was that. I stood at ground zero. A plack points to the sky; nearly two thousand feet above that point is where the "Little Boy" bomb detonated. Probably eighty thousand died instantly, and 140-thousand died by the end of 1945.<br />
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What happened then was right. It was war. It saved thousands of American lives. It was still tragic and should not ever happen again.<br />
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One of my conclusions was that every leader of every country that has the nuclear bomb in their country's arsenal should be made to visit the Hiroshima museum once every year.<br />
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-27410278867735285512019-02-13T21:40:00.003-05:002019-02-13T21:40:38.281-05:00Robert FrostI thought of poet Robert Frost today as I watched a snow squall move through my wooded land. I too watched the woods fill up with snow as he did in a vision so many years ago and penned his famous poem.<br />
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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening - Robert Frost<br />
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Whose woods these are I think I know.<br />
He lives in the village though;<br />
He will not see me stopping here<br />
To watch his woods fill up with snow.<br />
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My little horse must think it queer<br />
To stop without a farmhouse near<br />
Between the woods and frozen lake<br />
The darkest evening of the year.<br />
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He gives his harness bells a shake<br />
To ask if there is some mistake.<br />
The only other sound's the sweep<br />
Of easy wind and downy flake.<br />
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The woods are lovely dark and deep,<br />
But I have promises to keep.<br />
And miles to go before I sleep.<br />
And miles to go before I sleep.<br />
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If you live in the Northeast, you know that heavy snow fills the woods quickly. Its “sweep of easy wind and downy flake” not only coat the ground and branches in a pristine of en-whiten-meant, but its beauty fills the human soul with the light of spirit.<br />
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When Frost says “the woods are lovely, dark and deep,” I think he’s referring to the darkness of an unknowing soul who has a spiritual revelation in a heavy white snowstorm, and the experience becomes an epiphany of wonder.<br />
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“Miles to go before I sleep,” is I’ve got a lot to think about before I die. So Do we all.<br />
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-87454706782089427022019-02-12T21:19:00.003-05:002019-02-12T21:19:59.344-05:00Just askin"Isn’t it time we repudiate those who have not been elected nationally but yield immense power that deludes the common man-woman, dilutes common sense, and dismisses compromise for the greater good?<br />
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Names you all know:<br />
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Mitch McConnel<br />
Sean Hannity<br />
Rush Limbaugh<br />
Laura Ingraham<br />
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These are people in state elected political power as in the case of Mitch McConnel and non-elected people functioning as media priests who encourage, incite and influence policy by the force of their paid position on a media outlet.<br />
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In my career experience, America has gone from a balanced informational system of news delivery to one of contrarian diatribes and factless opinion.<br />
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I love debates. I like compelling arguments, dissent and eloquent conclusions where both sides present to a discerning public. The one-sided views of so few, that influence so many; does not serve the grace of democracy. <br />
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-49507275994074486502019-02-11T15:34:00.000-05:002019-02-11T15:34:43.616-05:00Language disappearingSeveral years ago the Associated Press reported that out of 6-thousand world languages, 2-thousand 500 languages are in danger of extinction. The report added that 200 languages have become extinct in the last three generations, and another 199 languages have fewer than ten speakers left.<br />
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That fact saddens me. To understand our collective cultural future, we must know our linguistic past. When a language becomes extinct so does the history and endemic knowledge of that culture.<br />
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I am also saddened that the English language we use today in everyday communication has become so perverted that at times I cannot understand what someone is saying.<br />
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Ask nearly any student, high school or college, to diagram the parts of speech or describe a simple declarative sentence, and you will get a blank look.<br />
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What happened?<br />
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We have dumbed down the elegance of speech into prattle, syllable elimination and a rhythmic beat seemingly conveying a quasi-poetic ablution of how one feels.<br />
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Language is the grace of society. It is the elegance of sophisticated communication and clear conversation. It is the archive of great literature. It is the essence of understanding and subsequently the path to peace, creativity, and harmony.<br />
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We need precise language. We need people who love it, embrace it, share it with eloquence and who will not abandon it too colloquial poppycock.<br />
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-35405075745610267282019-02-02T10:14:00.001-05:002019-02-11T12:25:04.369-05:00Arctic Cold<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="dvgj7" data-offset-key="g1pd-0-0" style="caret-color: rgb(28, 30, 33); color: #1c1e21; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
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<span data-offset-key="g1pd-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">THE COLD</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3e08s-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">It’s morning. Temperature is 2 degrees below zero. I have a fire going and feeling safe.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="8jerd-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">A few years ago I posted the following after a fridged few days. It seems more appropriate even now. To wit:</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="ea6eu-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">The warmth of a long-ago sun spreads into my room as a log fire dissolves its way to ash giving back the heat and light of many seasons' growth. Fluid flames dance in a flickering grace of form and orange light. Heat is the result. Light a soft byproduct.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="5pukk-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">A few feet away is the cold. It is a stinging cold with only a window glass to hold it back. It’s double glass, a bulwark of silica that another temperature and time turned into a transparent glazing of clarity and protection.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="ff5ul-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">I grew up in old houses with single panes of flawed glass. Frost would decorate the panes into a translucent crystal of art, but not now. Modern homes are too tight for nature’s cryogenic beauty to seep in and paint the panes with a cameo of cold. Too bad! How many kids today miss the vision of feathered frost on the inside of a windowpane where they can scratch their design into the thin sheet of ice crystals.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="6r1fl-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Just beyond my outer pane is an astringent cold that if you stepped outside without protection, it would burn with negative degrees, blister the skin, blink the eyes to tears and tighten the inner nose when a breath is necessary. It’s an arctic tight; the tightness of breath. </span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="floom-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">The cold on the other side of the glass sets a tension between inside and outside. It cannot penetrate the timid barrier of wood and double panes, but it tries to. It is the knowing fierceness of potential danger and a fire keeps me in the fort of comfort.</span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="5jbg5-0-0" style="font-family: inherit;">Damn, it's cold!</span></div>
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-53199635722862164422019-01-24T22:10:00.002-05:002019-01-24T22:10:24.340-05:00Wilber RossI am morally disturbed at the insensitivity of Commerce Secretary Wilber Ross. He is a self-made millionaire with the alleged wisdom to oversee the mercantile agenda of our nation.<br />
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It seems to me that would include the welfare of federal employees.<br />
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If you have not seen his remarks by now, you should because his ethic is endemic of the ignorance of the haves to the have-nots. He tried to walk it back to the press after somebody got to him, but it didn’t work.<br />
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It’s a “let them eat cake” instead of a bread scenario from Marie Antionette.<br />
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The charade going on in Washington is ludicrous. The elite has no idea what it is to live from paycheck to paycheck. If they did, the shut-down farce would not exist. This is why we need citizen legislators rather than career politicians in Washington.<br />
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<br />Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-38623610788087145932019-01-08T13:41:00.000-05:002019-01-08T13:41:22.167-05:00The responsibility of abundanceI had a simple fish chowder last night, and it was filling and fine.<br />
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I thought of those throughout the world who have little or nothing to eat and where starvation is a constant worry. Too many count the grains of rice for the pot to feed a family and deal with the ache of hunger as the body eats itself in a wrenching dichotomy to stay alive.<br />
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My simple meal was to millions of souls around the world, a feast.<br />
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I went to the doctor the other day for a routine check-up. There too I thought of the ease with which I got an appointment and the pharmacy choices I could go to fill a prescription. There are so many millions in the world who have no access to even simple medical treatments let alone to modern medicines to cure or ease a pain.<br />
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To get the same medical expertise, most of the world would have to walk for days or suffer in place.<br />
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I have a nice home — good neighbors. I have heat, electricity, and freedom from fear. I know millions love their families as I do mine, but who have no permanent home without the hostile and real intrusion of terror and war.<br />
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With all these realizations, there comes a moment when I must ask the question, “Why me?” “Why do I have so much and so many have so little?”<br />
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I don’t know the full answer, and I suspect I never will until I get to the other side. I do know there are responsibilities that go with abundance.<br />
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Giving from substance.<br />
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Compassion and aid to those who suffer.<br />
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Tolerance of other’s beliefs.<br />
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Awareness of need.Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-71578597526625149902019-01-07T14:33:00.003-05:002019-01-07T14:33:54.369-05:00The New CongressVision is the process by which we construct the future. It is the substance of creation and the positive possibilities of what we can be. From the daily diatribes out of Washington, I do not hear the visionary words that engender the structure of common hope on the foundation of realistic wonder.<br />
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From the new Congress, I want to hear reinforcements of American ideals and the legislative action to sustain them. I want all branches of our government to paint me a picture of a sustainable future and color it with ideas and the fragrance of action. I want the genesis of solutions on immigration, health care, ongoing wars, affordable housing, and the litany of other issues entrained in our common society.<br />
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Mostly what I glean from ongoing debate is the darkness of past thought, the detritus of false words and the uselessness of egoic pride.<br />
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When Alexander the Great became ruler of the world, he came upon a philosopher who was lying upon his back in a meadow and mediating. Having become powerful and wealthy, Alexander became a patron of the arts and intellectuals. He stood before the philosopher and said, "I am a patron of culture and will gladly underwrite any project you may select; name your wish."<br />
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The Philosopher thought for a moment and said: "You may do one thing for me, your Highness. Please step aside; you are standing between me and the sun".<br />
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Our Congress and our President must step aside from blocking the lights of compromise, compassion and courtesy and lead us to our grandest vision of ourselves.<br />
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-26312417738955605772019-01-04T22:27:00.003-05:002019-01-04T22:27:45.622-05:00A Thought...Have you checked what’s essential to you lately? To go right to the immediate national issue: When you think about it, do we need a multi-billion dollar wall along our southern border?<br />
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In practicality, we need our infrastructure replaced, repaired, and renovated — our bridges, tunnels, railroads, and airports are in terrible shape. Compared to other countries with a far less gross national product we are far behind. I can understand protecting our borders from real and the figmentation of attack, but that can be done, as best as any border can be secured, at a far less cost.<br />
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Society functions and grows on the success of the mercantile system. Fear inhibits the creative gestalt and thus progress. All of us are more creative, happier, comfortable and content when a peaceful environment sustains our daily living.<br />
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Since the election of Donald Trump, we have been a contentious society. Yes, the market soared and rallied. Yes, joblessness is is at a longtime low, those are fleeting successes.<br />
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Long-term prosperity is only measured by our children’s potential to reject a climate of fear and live in an atmosphere of competitive growth.<br />
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Politics used to be the energy for the common good. Today it is the constipation of compromise. It is time it stopped. The political obstructionists are not the ones in pain.<br />
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-23188744653490941892019-01-03T16:36:00.000-05:002019-01-03T16:36:04.479-05:00Things Change...Tomorrow would have been my 55th wedding anniversary had my Annie not moved to the other side. Her spirit still thrives. Only her body died. She passed over three years ago from Cancer. I miss her but know she is onto new awarenesses in the benevolent comfort of unconditional love.<br />
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Thinking about our many years together and the institution of marriage I've concluded that marriage is an ever-changing contract. It’s never the same for it changes every moment you commit to the well-being of your partner.<br />
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Love, as it is perceived through the union of marriage, is ever expanding provided it is nurtured with courtesy, communication, and kindness. How many of us, whether we are one day married or 50 years married, remember to say thank you for even the very simple courtesies of life. Cooking dinner, looking nice, taking out the garbage, struggling to make it better.<br />
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Marriage can be, should be, the constant exponential appreciation of the other, if we see our partner through the eyes of wonder.<br />
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And wonder becomes radiant and lasting when we give rather than demand and when we appreciate rather than expect.Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-30079459231140657142019-01-02T11:49:00.001-05:002019-01-02T11:49:17.558-05:00RemindersEvery so often we each need to be reminded of something greater than ourselves. The benevolence of All That Is constantly nudges us to see and then be the grace of the subtleties that come our way each day.<br />
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We, however, have to choose to be sensitive enough to notice.<br />
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It’s always in the little things that the reminders come to us. A song on the radio that conjures a memory. A fledging birds first encounter with flight. A baby’s infectious laugh. A pet’s greeting when you finally get home, the blast of a fragrant aroma when you first open the door to a flower shop, the lingering descent of snow on a windless winter day, the first taste of a fine wine and the harmonic drift of choir practice as you walk by a church.<br />
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It’s the little things that slam into our hearts.<br />
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Appreciation is the only response.Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-73333276149561304112019-01-01T21:36:00.004-05:002019-01-01T21:36:36.087-05:002019We did it! We said goodbye to the old year and welcomed in the new. We've been celebrating endings and beginnings since ancient times.<br />
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The tradition of New Years Eve celebrations also stems from old beliefs and superstitions. Noise making goes back to the ancient custom of using loud noises to drive evil spirits from a house during the times of festive celebration.<br />
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Many nationalities and cultures still use noise to celebrate. America has her ratchet rattles and noisemakers and fireworks.<br />
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Denmark smashes in the New year. People go to friends' houses and throw bits of broken pottery that they have collected throughout the year at the homes. They also bang on the doors to make noise.<br />
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The Dutch love to celebrate New Years. It was one of their favorite holidays when they settled New Amsterdam in the mid-17th century. When the English took over the city in 1674 and called it New York, the authorities were going to keep to the British custom at the time which called for celebrating the New Year on the Vernal Equinox, March 25th. The Dutch populace so loved the holiday on January 1st. They convinced the British to move their New Year celebration.<br />
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Traditions have to start somewhere. The ball dropping tradition at New York's Times Square began in 1904 when the Times tower was constructed. At the time it was New York City's 2nd tallest building, rising to a height of 375 feet.<br />
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Adolph Ochs, the then young publisher of the New York Times, moved his paper into the new building on New Year's weekend and decided to celebrate the event with a New Year's eve rooftop fireworks display.<br />
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It was spectacular, but it was dangerous. The following year the fireworks were replaced by the descending brightly-lit ball.<br />
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A tradition begun.<br />
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-91442171118742400132018-12-28T17:01:00.004-05:002018-12-28T17:01:59.385-05:00The New Year Some thoughts on this New Year.<br />
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Beginnings always have an expectation. Where do we go from here? What happens next?<br />
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In 2019 there is hope that tough times for those that have them will end.<br />
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The teen decade of the new century is at its end, and we are still searching for global sanity. There are still too many regional wars infecting the planet, and it's people as we struggle with the belief that security is having more.<br />
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There is always hope that the litany of Pandora troubles in our politics will transcend into the common good, but let us not forget that hope without action is arrogance. We each have to work at finding harmony in chaos.<br />
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Harmony is there; we can feel it when we give from empathy and not reward; when we resolve not to be discouraged, not to speak in anger, not to blame, and not to judge without the truth of looking within first.<br />
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Maybe this is the year that unconditional love and appreciation will guide the hearts and wills of humankind.<br />
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Maybe!Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-58967207334734429662018-12-19T12:26:00.000-05:002018-12-19T12:26:06.889-05:00A MemoryOn December 21st, 1988, Pan Am Flight 103 was blown out of the sky over Lockerbie, Scotland. A terrorist bomb murdered two hundred seventy people.<br />
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The plane originated in Frankfort, Germany and had one stop in London before heading out across the North Atlantic taking many home for the holidays.<br />
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In the many years since this tragedy most people have forgotten it for new disasters, new pain, new terrors, have replaced the Lockerbie incident.<br />
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I remember it vividly, not only because I reported on the crash during the nightly news for weeks, but because of one act of sympathy that will always stand out in my heart.<br />
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Shortly after the crash, there was a large bouquet of red roses sent to Lockerbie officials. There was a note pinned to the flowers. It said, “To the little girl in the red dress who made my life so enjoyable from Frankfort to London. You didn’t deserve this”.Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-80593151210677867722018-12-18T16:33:00.001-05:002018-12-18T16:33:38.108-05:00My RoadI live in a small rural community. My road is what you would call a “dead end.” I’ve always disliked that term and would prefer “no outlet,” but preferences and rules always have a conflict with rules winning out. Anyway, my “dead end” is a microcosm of age and culture.<br />
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At the start of my road is a home for transient women who come and go as needed.<br />
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As you move up my road, the ten or so houses become more individualized, single family and distinct. There are one-story homes with a couple of bedrooms. The maximum abode would be two stories, and that would also include a utilized or finished basement.<br />
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I'm the oldest now on this road. When I first moved in nearly twenty years ago, I was probably in the middle with all generations in between including babies, toddlers, grade-school children and teenage children.<br />
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What is seemingly unique to this neighborhood, based upon my experience of living in many other places is that we each know the other's name and we each look out for the other.<br />
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Through the years we had illness and infirmity in homes along the road. We had births and the elderly passing. We have all spectrums of income and all political ideals. We rarely socialize, but we talk to each other, and our commonality is a concern for the other. I’m not sure you can find that in a lot of places, but it flourishes here.<br />
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<br />Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-24332188624726188382018-12-07T10:16:00.000-05:002018-12-07T10:16:03.995-05:00December 7th, 1941There was a time, over dinner many years ago, that an older friend of mine, a retired naval officer, a graduate of Annapolis and now a successful businessman wanted to talk to one of my sons about attending Annapolis. My friend had both political and military connections, and my son had grades sufficient for an application and appointment.<br />
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My friend was a good man, a survivor of Pearl Harbor, but he had a powerful hatred for the Japanese. He hated them so much that he took every opportunity in business, in public, and in private to say so. He was a successful big-time contractor who built office and factory buildings, but he used no products from Japan.<br />
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During our dinner conversation I told him, I hoped he would understand, but he could not talk to my son unless he could let go of his hatred of the Japanese. I didn’t want my son influenced by such a long-festering hate.<br />
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Senator Simpson was correct when he said at President George H.W. Bush's funeral, "Hatred corrodes the container that carries it." When you hate you create a bond as powerful as love, and it won’t release you from your pain until you consciously let it go. The great teachings of the world suggest that hatred will eventually destroy the hater.<br />
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My friend thought about our discussion for several weeks. One day he called to tell me he was going to visit Pearl Harbor…on his way to Japan.<br />
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He asked when he got back could he talk to my son. I said “yes.”<br />
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As an afterword, my son was not interested in a naval career and went on to be successful in another venue, and my friend was able to release a constricting hatred that held him in a cocoon of anger for decades.<br />
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As it is with so many acquaintances with which we are blessed in life, I have lost track of my friend and hope that if he is still alive, he passes today's anniversary of the attack with a feeling of peace that only forgiveness can engender.<br />
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-87486876196706774082018-11-20T12:20:00.001-05:002018-11-20T12:23:12.084-05:00ThanksgivingHere it is two days before Thanksgiving in the United States. My friends in Canada celebrate it on another date.<br />
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Our Thanksgiving is similar to the August Moon Festival in China, Tet Trung Tru in Vietnam, Succoth in Judaism, Kwanzaa in Africa, Pongal in India and Chusok in Korea and Emtedankfest in Germany. The list goes on, but in essence the purpose remains the same, to thank God for a harvest of food and thought.<br />
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Giving thanks should never be relegated to a single day or a passing expression of gratitude. Giving thanks should be an ongoing every moment expression of appreciation. It should be a continuous expression of our lives for we as experiential souls in the density of life have truly been given so much for which we forget, deny, or explain away as something else.<br />
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It is amazing to me that the majority of us cannot see our abundance through the maze and fog of always wanting more. In my experience the All That Is provides for everything we need, but will not alter our free will choice to experience lack or deprivation.<br />
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Don’t ask me how that can be. I have no idea. I suspect that God experiences life through us as us.<br />
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Obviously our divinity is not omniscient or omnipotent, but it is on the edge of creation and understanding because there is a little bit of the Divine in each of us.<br />
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It seems to me we have forgotten appreciation and in our human arrogance of self we have ignored what we know deep within our souls.<br />
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In the United States, in particular, we forget to give thanks for clean and clear water, for the purity of a breath of fresh air, the freedoms and liberty we enjoy and the right to worship as we please. For me, to you, thank you for reading this blog from time to time.Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-10865131878290394612018-11-15T06:00:00.000-05:002018-11-15T06:00:13.594-05:00An Observation and a Memory<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Geneva, sans-serif; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I was in New York City yesterday for a freelance gig at CBS.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">As I walked several blocks from the subway, I chose to look at people differently. New York City is peopled with many races; White, Black, Asian, Indian, Hispanic and all cultures and races in-between. New York has a large black population, but blacks are still a minority population in this city.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">When I was in Nairobi, Kenya a few years ago Caucasian was not even a minority race. Caucasian was an anomaly, and I felt the difference. It was not a negative feeling, but more of a sensory one. Maybe it was just me, but I felt I stood out in the crowd so to speak. I was never felt fearful, only different.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The proportional difference between blacks and whites in New York City is far more than that of whites to blacks in Kenya. In Kenya, it was possible for me to travel miles and hours and not see another white person.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Yesterday in New York I decided to watch people more closely. I looked at black mothers and fathers on the subway with their kids, and I did so with awareness and appreciation. I saw tenderness, concern, and caring. I knew it was always there, but I was not as aware of it as I was yesterday. I watched family interactions with admiration and with a distant memory of covering the civil rights movement in the sixties. Back then, as a young reporter, I attended services in Black churches and listened to a fiery preacher call for justice and righteousness in an affirmative chorus of “Amen’s.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The older I get, I have a wiser appreciation of human identity and shared dignity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I think one has to experience being a minority before one can understand a portion of it. The only things that are truly important in life anywhere are equal opportunity, smiles, courtesy, dignity, tolerance, equality, and the clear acknowledgment of the sameness of being.</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-26182114148963319402018-11-08T06:00:00.000-05:002018-11-08T06:00:12.020-05:00The Day After...I was going to go to bed without commenting on this election, but somehow I found my way to the desk and thus this epistle.<br />
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I am disappointed in the American electorate for their lack of discernment in not turning more races, both Senate and governors, over to another party control. Please note, I did not say, Democrats, for there is fine leadership in all political beliefs. The more we as citizens recognize that, the sooner we will have a multi-party system that sustains the core beliefs of our electoral system and puts the rule of law above partisanship on all sides.<br />
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I was going to be satisfied with the results of the election, until Mr. Trump today threatened, in essence, retaliation to any house democrat and committee who investigated his presidency or his family during the next two years.<br />
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It is the sacred responsibility of Congress to check and balance the executive branch of government. Personality and despotic politics is now the rule. Loyalty to the leader is the criterion. Truth is left aside. Facts are ignored. Civility, courtesy, compromise, and courage are dissolved into shouting, anger, and baseless attacks.<br />
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This is not America. This is not America.<br />
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If we want an America where all feel comfort, all feel represented and have a voice, and all feel the peace of liberty, then we must look within our hearts, not our egos, we must acknowledge and discuss alternative thoughts and find the greater good for the whole. That’s being an American.Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-30160965208933818782018-11-05T06:00:00.000-05:002018-11-05T06:00:11.317-05:00More of the same...because it's needed.<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Geneva, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Hlk529126229"><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">A Spirit Place</span></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Hlk529126229"><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">©2018 Rolland G. Smith</span></a></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_Hlk529126229"><span style="font-family: Helvetica;">There is a place by water's edge<br />Where spirit’s mind and nature meet.<br />It's on a lake where land's hooked wedge<br />Have lodge and soul and water greet.<br /><br />Each cabin there emits a peace.<br />Its starlight’s silence in the night<br />Becomes the dawn's new light's release<br />Where morning's sounds are fresh and bright.<br /><br />A mist evolves from water's warm<br />To fog the lake's dawn's peaceful claim,<br />But soon the sun will beam its norm<br />And clear the surface shine again.<br /><br />All what I see is in my mind<br />From memories of my visit there,<br />But I would wish that humankind<br />Could have this comfort everywhere.<o:p></o:p></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">First choose to see what’s in your heart<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Then choose to be your higher side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">The side that pierces like a dart<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">And sets aside your ego’s pride.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">For us to know all souls are one<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">We visit places like a lake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">It fills our hearts with grace till done<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">And hugs dispassion till it breaks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">Be only love that’s what we are<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">And be of service where we can.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">There is no judgement from afar</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica;">As we fullfill our spirit's plan.</span></div>
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1123849968205458438.post-32715177713543185712018-11-01T06:00:00.000-04:002018-11-01T06:00:02.148-04:00Why Poetry?Why poetry?<br />
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Poetry, whether its rap or metered verse, quatrains or sonnets, laughs and cries, clarifies and condemns and brings the intellectual and emotional senses into a radiating body of meaningful words.<br />
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Poetry holds, sometimes forever, an emotion long past, a desire forgotten, a wish remembered or a splendor that’s vanished in the illusion of time.<br />
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It is also a minute connection to the elegance of verbal choice; to the beauty of form and the emotion of words put fitly together on the palate of the mind. Poetry is both raw and sophisticated. To me, poetry is love at the purest verbal level.<br />
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Rolland G. Smithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17099817349797405854noreply@blogger.com0