...Barbara Boxer might be the drunkest. And I'm not sure she's ever taken a shot to the chin.
(That long pause you're hearing is discretion making it's all too rare visit to my thought process... Rest assured that before this post hits, several hundred characters will have hit this page, been deleted, re-typed and been deleted yet again...)
"Could you say 'senator' instead of 'ma'am?' " Boxer (D-CA) remarked recently to Brigadier General Michael Walsh. Walsh was testifying at a hearing that Boxer was chairing on the levees in New Orleans. "It's just a thing," she babbled on. "I worked so hard to get that title. I'd appreciate it."
(Long pause again. Wondering if I shouldn't just pick a different topic.)
Oh, how I wish the Brigadier General would have gone all "A Few Good Men" on her sorry, useless behind and said, "Right, you arrogant heap who disgraces our very form of government, and why don't you call me General, because I actually did have to work hard to earn that title."
I grew up on a farm. I have first-hand experience with hard work. I've noticed that it is often preceded by hard and thorough thought. In fact, very few people who work hard do so without realizing it. All too many, Barbara Boxer among them, mistake hard work for things that oh, like, aren't hard. People like Barbara Boxer have mistakenly come upon the perception that they matter; let alone that they matter more than anyone else.
My greatest fear is that unless we somehow correct the trend we face today, that the Barbara Boxer's and Nancy Pelosi's of the world will unduly impact my children's futures. I know they've already spent the money I've worked so hard to earn to educate and provide for them; my fear is that they will lower the bar on decorum so dramatically that somehow one of these generations will get the idea that laziness and misinformation are adequate perspectives from which to govern, or simply from which to decide. Heaven forbid that one of my daughters will consider Barbara Boxer a role model.
At least I can use Boxer as an example of how not to display proper manners. We've taught our kids that "Yes, Ma'am," and "No, Ma'am," are terms of respect. Sadly, respect is a topic that Barbara Boxer can't relate to, understand or recognize, even when it's aimed in her direction. Perhaps she's just that uncomfortable due to the realization that she hasn't earned it...or much of anything else, for that matter.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Sunday, June 7, 2009
The "Secretariat" of Spouses
There is a legend in sports that Secretariat's heart weighed 22 pounds. The "average" horse's heart weighs only about 8 pounds.
In other words, the legendary 1973 Triple Crown winner-by-a-rout had nearly three times the heart of most horses.
No one has weighed my wife's heart yet. I doubt they'll ever have reason to do so. For the record, though, just in case you're wonderin' -- actually, whether you're wonderin' or not -- my wife has about five times the heart of your "average" spouse.
One learns a lot about relationships in times of trial. One learns a lot about limits when limits are tested. One learns a lot about what makes them tick when the very "ticking" is drawn in to the gray area, as mine has been of late. After six weeks of caring for me in addition to The Three Who Will Not Be Tamed, and with seven more weeks ahead, including starting over tomorrow after a major surgery, not once has she wavered, not once has she complained, not once has she missed her stride. The kids are lucky to have her as their Mom, but not nearly as lucky as I am to have her as my partner, and as my wife.
Yesterday marked 11 years of marriage. Like most couples, there have been some bumps in the road during those 11 years, but the simple fact of the matter is this:
If I live to be 100 years old, no greater honor will be possible than the honor of being married to my wife.
With prayers for a steady hand on the part of my surgeon, and many years of good health to show my wife how much I appreciate her, I sign off this post knowing that Secretariat had nothing on my wife when it comes to matters of heart.
In other words, the legendary 1973 Triple Crown winner-by-a-rout had nearly three times the heart of most horses.
No one has weighed my wife's heart yet. I doubt they'll ever have reason to do so. For the record, though, just in case you're wonderin' -- actually, whether you're wonderin' or not -- my wife has about five times the heart of your "average" spouse.
One learns a lot about relationships in times of trial. One learns a lot about limits when limits are tested. One learns a lot about what makes them tick when the very "ticking" is drawn in to the gray area, as mine has been of late. After six weeks of caring for me in addition to The Three Who Will Not Be Tamed, and with seven more weeks ahead, including starting over tomorrow after a major surgery, not once has she wavered, not once has she complained, not once has she missed her stride. The kids are lucky to have her as their Mom, but not nearly as lucky as I am to have her as my partner, and as my wife.
Yesterday marked 11 years of marriage. Like most couples, there have been some bumps in the road during those 11 years, but the simple fact of the matter is this:
If I live to be 100 years old, no greater honor will be possible than the honor of being married to my wife.
With prayers for a steady hand on the part of my surgeon, and many years of good health to show my wife how much I appreciate her, I sign off this post knowing that Secretariat had nothing on my wife when it comes to matters of heart.
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