The "Moon Phase" pictures of her life, is something I am determind to keep up with as she grows older. For, seldom do pictures like these seem to surrive the passing years of our own lives. Few of us have such memories of our own early years. I am the Historian in our family, and this is just another aspect of keeping a record of our events.
A grandson. Neat.
We've weathered a few storms, seen a lot water under the bridge, had many cars, jobs, homes, and religions - but I've been very blessed that Alice has always remained by my side. She, more than anyone else has remained my greatest source of strength and encouragement. There have been many times, (that she's never even been aware of), where depression has edged me close to some very grim thoughts; but in the pools of her eyes I see the only proof I need of GOD, hope and unconditional love.
The Nephilim are the central characters, and it only seems appropriate to keep their name in the header somewhere. The background setting for my novel is a blended cross between: Middle Earth, and the ancient Biblical World. The peoples are also a blend of Tolkien's work and Scripture, for both have influenced my personal thinking greatly.
My Nephilim are the Elves who remained behind in the Gray Havens of Middle Earth. They are the "Sons of God." Who, in their quest to repopulate and rule that ancient time, have fallen from their High Nobility. They have turned into greedy and lustful teachers of lesser men. With their appearance, in that pre-flood world, came an age of herindious chaos.
However, one of the desendants of the Nephilim, Feandar, learns of his true nature, and seeks to regain that nobility in his own personal life. He seemingly goes foolishly through life without a care. Such are the trials, and experiences of enduring life in an upside-down world filled with war, terrorist, pain and sorrow; sucide is only an easy course, and a hollow loss. Time and again various lessons are learned, til one day the maturity of finding true love awakens in him the desire to live, reguardless of the coming rains. Just as, in real life it seems, when we realize "what it's all about" we reach our ending years of mortal life. So too is it with Feandar, and the coming of the Flood.
Looking at me with a smirk he replyed,"It's Nimoy - Leonard Nimoy; No. You new here?..."
"Yeah." Thinking I was fixing to get the crap beat out of me, the Spock looking kid told me to join him on the bus. When I asked why there were so many dents in the celing above the driver I was told to just wait and watch. After the school bus was loaded and the chattering volume began to rise our elderly troll of a driver grabed a short handle stick, and proceeded beating the hell out of the top of the bus, yelling,"Chut-up! Chut-up!" At which you could hear a pin drop on the entire trip across town to my new Middle School.
Man, this kid was smart. He became my best friend. Through the years to come where ever you saw him, you saw me joined at the hip. My own brother was three years older, on a far different wave length; actually we never got along - always fought, and never found anything in common to agree on. This new kid - knew my thoughts even before I did.
(From my Junior High School Yearbook 1979-80)
Michael was a Star Trek fan, like I was. He was a Baptist, Pentacle-something or other; never really caught it. You see I was raised a Jehovah's Witness; you know, that "Thou Shall Not" kinda of religion. But the neat thing about it was - far as I could figure - we never had much to say about our religious backgrounds. Others stayed as far away from me as they could, or I them. But Michael accepted me for who I was, and didn't seem to care (or knew) that he was going to perish during Jehovah's Armageddon; and after awhile, I began to wonder why I didn't care either.
I seemed to be over Michael's house far more times than he was over to mine, for the most part it didn't bother me; being at his home was like being in a different world. His parents treated one another as though there was a real interest in each another, and their kids. Michael's brother was even cool; not as cool as him mind you.
Building on our interest of Star Trek, came our mutual love of art; drawing and crafting things with our hands. I think in some respect I've always had an edge over Michael when it came to art, but his imagination blew away the breath of any talent I had. I would spend an hour on a project that came out pertty good, while he would churn out masterpiece one after another.
During Junior High School, my religious focus waned even though my attendance continued at the Kingdom Hall; my life was about to change. The change for me came with the expantion of my circle of friends. There was Tony, a Boy Scout trooper who loved, and introduced me to Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. Paul, introduced me to Styx, and Battlestar Galactica. Lane Boyd, another artist who could do the Robot as well as me. Shannon - an "atheisit", but he loved Science-Fiction, so he was okay. And of course, there remained Michael. Those were the days, and the individuals who influenced me most in life - more than they will ever understand.
In Jr. High, our art teacher, a Mrs. Pat Dunn asked Michael and I to "paint" a picture for her. I believe it was on a masonite board. Our school looked like a prison with no windows, so we jumped on the oppertunity to give the 'ol Art Mum the view we saw of the world outside. Actually it somewhat resembled Middle Earth: with a great mountian (mine), in the background and a Hobbit tree (Michael's touch) in the foreground. It was fun working on the painting, but we were not the Brothers Hilebrant.
(Brownwood Bullentin Newspaper; page 10-A Sunday, September 21, 1980)
Through the years Michael and I were always a pair. An influence on one another more than even we realise now. He was the Best Man at my wedding, and I a pallbearer at his father's funeral. Yet, even over the long years, when we lost contact with one another as adults, Michael remained a driving inspiration of hope and imagination in my personal life.
Somehow, these many years later I was able to reconnet with my old friend; and have never regretted his presence in my life. Old, and dear friends like Tehuti don't come along that often, and when they do, too many times in this crazy world of ours we never seem to take enough time to thank them for the many contributions they have made in our lives. So, Thank you Michael for accepting me for who I was then, for being more of a brother than my own, and for being at my wedding when even my own father wasn't; "you have been and shall always remain my friend."
What does it mean to be an employee, a member of an Organization, a citizen? If we give Texas back to Mexico, and North Dakoda to Canada, then what remains of the US? Every American is an immigrant after a fashion, so the argument of not allowing them into the country is mute; we are a country of Immigrants. However, we are also a country under the rule of law. So, what does it mean to be "Illegal"?
Illegal immigrant, like the rest of us, are only striving to seek out a better way of life. When I hear the argument that the citizen wont work for such-and-such wages - so let's hire the illegal immigrant; all I hear is an illegal act that victimizes another person, and drags the economic system down. It is just this slow, erroding away type of thinking that has brought us where we are today in America.
We need to secure the boarders the way we always have, not by fences and walls but by upholding the legal system that our immigrant forefathers founded, and our dying, patriotic fathers before us upheld. It wasn't considered racist then to protect the nation, and it isn't rascist now. It is sissy, and foolishly politicly correct to think that Homeland Security can be upheld by buring our heads in the sand, and not facing the issuses, or boarding ourself in against the facts. Treat the immigrant with the same humane respect you as a natural citizen deserve; their only right is that, and the Rule of Law. Don't like the rules? Then Vote otherwise.
Like setting back for an hour or so watching TV, I get a kick out of surfing the web via NEXT BLOG, you come across some rather interesting people in the world...
The Bear in New Jersey has a political slant going on and some great links to check. LynnCorney of Chaple Hill, NC. also has some really neat stuff to share; something about her writing makes ya want to tune in. Heidi Granada of Barcelona, Spain has some beautiful pictures; makes me want to be a world traveler for such. Steve in Austin, Texas has a good site, neat format; I like the picture of the baby with the ram horns! I like Lucy Quintanilla of Neptune, New Jersey's format; good flavor of the area, I'd like to see more pics though- makes me want to write more. Wendy C. of Arlington, Texas has a really nice "In-the-Life-of" blog going on. Dave, in Michigan has some neat tech items, and very sharp photos - I like the Sand Castle.
I was raised as one of Jehovah's Witnesses from 1969, until I left in 1982. I waned in my attendance during my last years in high school, and shortly after my marriage. My Dad left the Society because of the hypocrisy of others, my brother and sister fell away because there was no demand to continue going to the Meetings, and my Mom - well she left afterwards as well. I stayed because I believed everything I had been taught, I was faithful to Jehovah's Servant without question.
The day I bagan studing the 80 Questions for baptism, was when I began to have serious questions of my own. The Elders grew wary of my search for the TRUTH; a Truth beyond their doctrinal, cookie cut answers. One of the major things that began my journey of leaving was researching and questioning the Leaders of the Organization itself. Never ask questions. Don't think for yourself; or you will be in darkness, lost and apart from Jehovah's Servant.
Jehovah is the same yesterday and forever; the Watchtower leaders are ever changing, their Light always a different color. Why all the changing dates for Armageddon? Why the many changes in the Biblical Translations, to suit their doctrine of the day? Why? Why? Why - must I accept only what they say; when what they say is ever changing? So, I became a Southern Baptist; a Lay Minister for seven years - preaching Jesus is LORD. After 15 years, I began to question again; returning to many of the same JW questions that lay unsnawered.
Surfing the NET, purchasing many books and studying the Bible for myself I finally washed myself clear of JW-ian Shadow. However, I remained psychologically scared for life; skeptical of everything. One reoccuring theme that touched, and "haunted" me was how everything was Pagan related. So, I studied Paganism. Today I call myself a Pagan. I got a tattoo on my left arm of a Tripple Moon with a Pentagram and Hounds. My tattoo reminds me that you can never unring a bell. The misinformation, and out right lies of the Jehovah's Witnesses, and the misiformation of Christianity is something I can not unlearn, unresearch, nor go back to "not knowing."
As a Seeker, truth can be found in many places and love seen in many faces; one belief is not invalidated by another's view of their walk with Deity. I believe the cults like Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses mislead people through the manipulative misdirection of zealous Leaders seeking their goals. Organized Christianity is a farce on mankind, for Jesus taught things which were layered upon by men with their own agendas. Paganism sees the Universe as the beginning and end unto itself; men responcible for their own actions. Ill treatment and decption upon ones brother - watch out - Karma's a bitch.
I know we'll pass. I know life will go on. It's just the time of the year, at work that everyone dreads most; the headachs of dealing with the Pro Staff running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Pretending it's just another day, as they reem you out about some minuet stupidity that has nothing to do with you, but something they themselves should have taken care of weeks before.
Come next week - same 'ol same, till Inspection next year...