For me it could never be a Democrat, pro-abortion, yet this election does not afford me much of a choice.
There was a time when making a decision was easy ... but this time around, no.
Trump cannot be considered. In my opinion, he's no different than Obama, except the color of his skin. He does not have the experience, the temperance, the mouth -- to deal with the multitude of issues required of POTUS. Obama still has not learned, as he is about to leave after almost eight years. Trump does not have eight years to learn.
He says he is a Christian. Yet, he has no idea what a Christian is about. I did not say he was not a Christian. That is between him and GOD. His mouth, his behavior - his lack of humility! He is prideful and arrogant. In public -- cannot imagine how poorly he behaves in private.
Just a quick word about the ads regarding Trump University. People have a choice who they want to listen to, where they want to spend their money. If people did not research well before investing in Trump University, who is responsible for their decisions? Did someone hold a gun to their heads?
My point being, adults are responsible for their decisions - even when they screw up. It's not someone's else's fault.
People have to take responsibility for their actions and not blame someone else just because it's convenient.
Cruz and Rubio -- they have acted like playground bullies, no less than Trump. Just because the fray has calmed down, they have changed their tune a bit. Nonetheless, their damage has been done. Since they have behaved this way on the "battleground" in public, how do they behave in private?
Where are the grownups? Those who have common sense, true experience, the heart for the people, who can behave themselves, understand ethics, integrity, and honesty.
Tall order? It can be done, but only if their heart is right with GOD and CHRIST JESUS.
Saturday, March 12, 2016
Saturday, January 30, 2016
2016 Elections Are Upon Us
It is five years since my last post here.
I must have been sleeping. Don't know what I've been doing, except not posting, not writing.
That means I have much to catch up on.
Please bear with me.
I will try to watch my words.
Iowa Caucus.
There was a time when I was sure, really sure that Trump was the president our country needed.
The more I listen to him, I don't believe that anymore.
As a Christian woman, not a woman who is a Christian (two very different things), GOD has given me the wisdom to understand that "The Donald" and his ego, and everything that goes with him, is Obama but with a different skin, older, more money, more people, more divorces, different faith -- but no different.
He has all the arrogance, no experience for this Presidential position.
No difference than Obama.
We do NOT want the Clinton's back in office, AGAIN.
All of us ... Republican, Democrat, Independent, ... whatever ... you should understand fully: if you vote for Hillary Clinton for President ... you are voting for Bill Clinton for President.
Surely you are smart enough to understand that.
A vote for one is a vote for both of them.
Bernie Sanders just scares me.
No, that's not true. He does not scare me. He alarms me.
Christians, we must be praying on our knees ... humbly before our CREATOR, seeking HIS will for this election.
Otherwise, we will receive what we deserve once again -- another Obama.
It's very easy, really ...
2 Chronicles 7.14
" . . . if MY people who are called by MY Name will humble themselves, and pray seek MY face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from Heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land."
Do you understand what GOD is asking?
Humble ourselves ...
Pray, seek HIS face ...
Turn from our wicked ways ...
THEN
HE will hear from Heaven ...
Then HE will forgive our sin ...
Then HE will heal our land ...
The payoff is incredible, miraculous ... for such an easy thing to do.
If we are willing --
I must have been sleeping. Don't know what I've been doing, except not posting, not writing.
That means I have much to catch up on.
Please bear with me.
I will try to watch my words.
Iowa Caucus.
There was a time when I was sure, really sure that Trump was the president our country needed.
The more I listen to him, I don't believe that anymore.
As a Christian woman, not a woman who is a Christian (two very different things), GOD has given me the wisdom to understand that "The Donald" and his ego, and everything that goes with him, is Obama but with a different skin, older, more money, more people, more divorces, different faith -- but no different.
He has all the arrogance, no experience for this Presidential position.
No difference than Obama.
We do NOT want the Clinton's back in office, AGAIN.
All of us ... Republican, Democrat, Independent, ... whatever ... you should understand fully: if you vote for Hillary Clinton for President ... you are voting for Bill Clinton for President.
Surely you are smart enough to understand that.
A vote for one is a vote for both of them.
Bernie Sanders just scares me.
No, that's not true. He does not scare me. He alarms me.
Christians, we must be praying on our knees ... humbly before our CREATOR, seeking HIS will for this election.
Otherwise, we will receive what we deserve once again -- another Obama.
It's very easy, really ...
2 Chronicles 7.14
" . . . if MY people who are called by MY Name will humble themselves, and pray seek MY face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from Heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land."
Do you understand what GOD is asking?
Humble ourselves ...
Pray, seek HIS face ...
Turn from our wicked ways ...
THEN
HE will hear from Heaven ...
Then HE will forgive our sin ...
Then HE will heal our land ...
The payoff is incredible, miraculous ... for such an easy thing to do.
If we are willing --
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Senior Card - High School - Karma?
Having regaled you with tales of how my English class tormented our somewhat-ready-for-retirement English teacher I thought perhaps I’d share another little tidbit. Once again, just for the record, what we did to her was terrible, and for any teachers out there in readership land, please know that I did not share those stories because I was proud of them.
Having said that, I’d like to return to my years of high school and share with you a smidgen of hindsight.
I graduated in 1971 and in those days, high school was strictly 10th, 11th, and 12th grade. The school was pretty big, both population and size wise. There were some innovative thinkers within the faculty, school board and others who had a vote.
There were several elective classes available; some of which included attending pop concerts, art shows, theater productions, and even architectural walks ... all during school hours. That was really cool.
In those days the pop concerts weren’t costly at all ... and they were also rather innocuous. Today, of course, the admittance costs are expensive and attendees must ignore smoking, drugs and alcohol activities. Not so back then.
I attended concerts by the Beach Boys, Sonny and Cher, Blood, Sweat and Tears, the Doors, and a myriad of others. Tickets were reasonable and a critique of the concert earned me an ‘A’. Those were the days.
We would take walking tours of the historical areas of Norfolk, VA ... taking notes on the architecture, and again writing a critique on what we observed. I learned more about architecture through those walking tours than through any other class in high school or college.
There were some wonderful theatrical performances we attended. The College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, VA had a very talented group and showed us a wide range of performances ... even some very funny improvisations.
Yes indeedy. That high school had a set of philosophies that were before it’s time.
There was one other thing that was introduced during the beginning of my senior year that changed the way I perceived my last year in high school. Even back then students had IDs ... but that year the administration went just a little bit further.
Only seniors were given the opportunity to show some responsibility, some wisdom, some maturity. A Senior Card was introduced that allowed seniors to come and go from campus requiring only the presentation of their card and their signature.
This was the first time anything like that had been tried there, and I am sure the administration truly believed the seniors would be responsible and mature in the using of their card.
The problem was, there was no system to hold seniors accountable. We drove to school, we drove away from school. We could arrive and leave whenever we chose.
As you have probably guessed, and based on my previous behaviors, I was a senior who was not prepared for that freedom. Along with many others, I came and went as I pleased. Some weeks I only attended on Fridays. That was when I made up big tests and even turned in some work ... just enough to stay on the graduation roles. Yes, I did graduate ... tho probably not in the top ten per-cent of my class.
Can you imagine students having those freedoms today? We did not handle that responsibility well then -- and, we didn’t have the drugs and violence to deal with that today’s students must cope with. I can only speculate on the trouble that today’s students would tangle with.
I am sure there would be some students who would appreciate the freedoms that went along with a Senior Card such as we had. Those who had jobs, doctor appointments, or family emergencies would only have to show their Card, and no questions would be asked.
Just as I am sure there are those who would use it appropriately, I am equally sure there would be students who would view the Senior Card as their ticket to party.
Even though it’s been 31 years since my experience, today’s students are not that much different. Temptations abound today just as they did back then. If they can’t say no after school hours, there would be nothing to encourage them to say no during school hours.
Back then the Senior Card was a ticket to trouble, and it would be the same today. Teenagers need some freedoms ... they have to learn how to monitor their behaviors, how to say no to things that are difficult for them, but giving them a carte blanche pass out the door would not teach them life skills. Those lessons are best learned with a safety net.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Having said that, I’d like to return to my years of high school and share with you a smidgen of hindsight.
I graduated in 1971 and in those days, high school was strictly 10th, 11th, and 12th grade. The school was pretty big, both population and size wise. There were some innovative thinkers within the faculty, school board and others who had a vote.
There were several elective classes available; some of which included attending pop concerts, art shows, theater productions, and even architectural walks ... all during school hours. That was really cool.
In those days the pop concerts weren’t costly at all ... and they were also rather innocuous. Today, of course, the admittance costs are expensive and attendees must ignore smoking, drugs and alcohol activities. Not so back then.
I attended concerts by the Beach Boys, Sonny and Cher, Blood, Sweat and Tears, the Doors, and a myriad of others. Tickets were reasonable and a critique of the concert earned me an ‘A’. Those were the days.
We would take walking tours of the historical areas of Norfolk, VA ... taking notes on the architecture, and again writing a critique on what we observed. I learned more about architecture through those walking tours than through any other class in high school or college.
There were some wonderful theatrical performances we attended. The College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, VA had a very talented group and showed us a wide range of performances ... even some very funny improvisations.
Yes indeedy. That high school had a set of philosophies that were before it’s time.
There was one other thing that was introduced during the beginning of my senior year that changed the way I perceived my last year in high school. Even back then students had IDs ... but that year the administration went just a little bit further.
Only seniors were given the opportunity to show some responsibility, some wisdom, some maturity. A Senior Card was introduced that allowed seniors to come and go from campus requiring only the presentation of their card and their signature.
This was the first time anything like that had been tried there, and I am sure the administration truly believed the seniors would be responsible and mature in the using of their card.
The problem was, there was no system to hold seniors accountable. We drove to school, we drove away from school. We could arrive and leave whenever we chose.
As you have probably guessed, and based on my previous behaviors, I was a senior who was not prepared for that freedom. Along with many others, I came and went as I pleased. Some weeks I only attended on Fridays. That was when I made up big tests and even turned in some work ... just enough to stay on the graduation roles. Yes, I did graduate ... tho probably not in the top ten per-cent of my class.
Can you imagine students having those freedoms today? We did not handle that responsibility well then -- and, we didn’t have the drugs and violence to deal with that today’s students must cope with. I can only speculate on the trouble that today’s students would tangle with.
I am sure there would be some students who would appreciate the freedoms that went along with a Senior Card such as we had. Those who had jobs, doctor appointments, or family emergencies would only have to show their Card, and no questions would be asked.
Just as I am sure there are those who would use it appropriately, I am equally sure there would be students who would view the Senior Card as their ticket to party.
Even though it’s been 31 years since my experience, today’s students are not that much different. Temptations abound today just as they did back then. If they can’t say no after school hours, there would be nothing to encourage them to say no during school hours.
Back then the Senior Card was a ticket to trouble, and it would be the same today. Teenagers need some freedoms ... they have to learn how to monitor their behaviors, how to say no to things that are difficult for them, but giving them a carte blanche pass out the door would not teach them life skills. Those lessons are best learned with a safety net.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Karma & High School ...
Do you ever wonder if your bad deeds come back to haunt you? Now I’m not talking about things that you really never want anyone to know about. Rather, I’m talking about things you did that were just plain stupid and teenagery and supposedly had no real consequences.
I bring this up because I substitute part-time in the Amarillo school district. Most of the time the students are terrific and the problems that I do have with a few students have more to do with disrespect and uncooperation rather than anger or aggression.
Every once in awhile I get a kid who tries everything s/he can do to push my buttons, and while I manage to keep my pushed buttons to myself, sometimes I just can’t help it. Sometimes my choice is to get a little loud (I know, who’d have thought), and let myself be understood a couple of decibels higher than I intended.
It is then that I wonder about my past deeds and if I am reaping the harvest that I sowed when I was in high school. Back when I was a teenager, the biggest problem we had was smoking in the rest rooms or behind the school. Drugs were almost nonexistent. Teenage pregnancy was a condition that was quickly sent away, and school violence just didn’t happen.
So what was it I could have done back then that could possibly be coming back to haunt me now? Well, as I tell you a little about that, keep in mind that it was 30+ years ago, and I’ve grown up just a little bit since then.
Her name was Mrs. Hall and she was overdue for retirement. Her hearing was bad, her eyes were covered with thick lenses, her support hose sagged around her knees, and her short brown hair was curled just a wee bit too tight. Probably, she would have been a great grandma, but she was our literature teacher, and her favorite author was Shakespeare.
As so many classes today do, our lit class was divided by lunch, and the door to the classroom was locked to presumably keep our items safe. There was a window about a foot each way that sat just about nose level for most of her students. That becomes important later on.
It was during lunch that my class would conspire and develop the plans for the second half of lit class and poor Mrs. Hall. Spools of thread would be brought from home ec; green peas and tomatoes or ketchup packets would make their way from the cafeteria, and gum was the starting ingredient.
Remember the window that was nose level? That became very handy for the janitors because their arms could sometimes reach through the hole in the door when the window was removed, and ... if they were lucky ... they could unlock the door from the inside. You see, the gum was chewed, and mixed with just a little bit of paper, and the key hole was deftly filled with the substance. Poor Mrs. Hall would try to unlock the door only to find the key couldn’t get through the gum and paper combination.
The janitors would then be called and they would either have to remove the window from the door or take the door off it’s hinges. I cannot begin to tell you how funny we thought that was. And of course, we always managed to cut about 20+ minutes from class by our antic. It did no good for the principal to threaten us. Detention wasn’t so popular then, and AEP had not been thought of. Sure, we’d back off for a few days and then return to the torment of this poor woman.
While I do not in any way shape or form think Mrs. Hall was in any way responsible for our bad behavior, she fanned the fires of our delight by telling us about her friends ... her little friends ... her little green friends. These were not friends that anyone else saw, but were friendly little green people from Mars who inhabited her classroom.
That was the purpose of the peas. As she railed at us for jamming the door lock, we would spread the peas on the floor and pretend to step on her little green friends. I don’t know if she ever figured out the green gunk was just peas. I do remember how upset she used to get when she thought her friends had been hurt.
The thread from home ec was wound around the legs of the chairs and desks, forcing us to pick our feet up high to walk down a row. Because her eyes were so bad, she couldn’t see the thread. The howling of laughter as students sometimes tripped and fell was lost on her. We, however, were entertained.
We emptied the ketchup packets and smashed the tomatoes on the walls, telling her the walls were bleeding. From little green men to bleeding walls, we tormented that poor woman with every conceivable trick.
Poor Mrs. Hall didn’t even finish the first semester, but took an early retirement and relocated to a rest home. I never knew what became of her.
We were bad. No, we were very bad, and we should have gotten into some really big trouble. I’m confident that if students tried these same things today there would be no patience and no discussion regarding punishment. And that is as it should be. Times were different then, but bad behavior is bad behavior.
Mrs. Hall, if you’re out there somewhere, somehow, please know how sorry I am for all those days of jammed key holes, all those smashed little green peas, and all those tomatoes and ketchup packets smeared on the walls. Please accept my apology ... and please, have a talk with the students I will be facing tomorrow. As attractive as an early retirement might be to me, I don’t think any rest home would let me bring my son.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
I bring this up because I substitute part-time in the Amarillo school district. Most of the time the students are terrific and the problems that I do have with a few students have more to do with disrespect and uncooperation rather than anger or aggression.
Every once in awhile I get a kid who tries everything s/he can do to push my buttons, and while I manage to keep my pushed buttons to myself, sometimes I just can’t help it. Sometimes my choice is to get a little loud (I know, who’d have thought), and let myself be understood a couple of decibels higher than I intended.
It is then that I wonder about my past deeds and if I am reaping the harvest that I sowed when I was in high school. Back when I was a teenager, the biggest problem we had was smoking in the rest rooms or behind the school. Drugs were almost nonexistent. Teenage pregnancy was a condition that was quickly sent away, and school violence just didn’t happen.
So what was it I could have done back then that could possibly be coming back to haunt me now? Well, as I tell you a little about that, keep in mind that it was 30+ years ago, and I’ve grown up just a little bit since then.
Her name was Mrs. Hall and she was overdue for retirement. Her hearing was bad, her eyes were covered with thick lenses, her support hose sagged around her knees, and her short brown hair was curled just a wee bit too tight. Probably, she would have been a great grandma, but she was our literature teacher, and her favorite author was Shakespeare.
As so many classes today do, our lit class was divided by lunch, and the door to the classroom was locked to presumably keep our items safe. There was a window about a foot each way that sat just about nose level for most of her students. That becomes important later on.
It was during lunch that my class would conspire and develop the plans for the second half of lit class and poor Mrs. Hall. Spools of thread would be brought from home ec; green peas and tomatoes or ketchup packets would make their way from the cafeteria, and gum was the starting ingredient.
Remember the window that was nose level? That became very handy for the janitors because their arms could sometimes reach through the hole in the door when the window was removed, and ... if they were lucky ... they could unlock the door from the inside. You see, the gum was chewed, and mixed with just a little bit of paper, and the key hole was deftly filled with the substance. Poor Mrs. Hall would try to unlock the door only to find the key couldn’t get through the gum and paper combination.
The janitors would then be called and they would either have to remove the window from the door or take the door off it’s hinges. I cannot begin to tell you how funny we thought that was. And of course, we always managed to cut about 20+ minutes from class by our antic. It did no good for the principal to threaten us. Detention wasn’t so popular then, and AEP had not been thought of. Sure, we’d back off for a few days and then return to the torment of this poor woman.
While I do not in any way shape or form think Mrs. Hall was in any way responsible for our bad behavior, she fanned the fires of our delight by telling us about her friends ... her little friends ... her little green friends. These were not friends that anyone else saw, but were friendly little green people from Mars who inhabited her classroom.
That was the purpose of the peas. As she railed at us for jamming the door lock, we would spread the peas on the floor and pretend to step on her little green friends. I don’t know if she ever figured out the green gunk was just peas. I do remember how upset she used to get when she thought her friends had been hurt.
The thread from home ec was wound around the legs of the chairs and desks, forcing us to pick our feet up high to walk down a row. Because her eyes were so bad, she couldn’t see the thread. The howling of laughter as students sometimes tripped and fell was lost on her. We, however, were entertained.
We emptied the ketchup packets and smashed the tomatoes on the walls, telling her the walls were bleeding. From little green men to bleeding walls, we tormented that poor woman with every conceivable trick.
Poor Mrs. Hall didn’t even finish the first semester, but took an early retirement and relocated to a rest home. I never knew what became of her.
We were bad. No, we were very bad, and we should have gotten into some really big trouble. I’m confident that if students tried these same things today there would be no patience and no discussion regarding punishment. And that is as it should be. Times were different then, but bad behavior is bad behavior.
Mrs. Hall, if you’re out there somewhere, somehow, please know how sorry I am for all those days of jammed key holes, all those smashed little green peas, and all those tomatoes and ketchup packets smeared on the walls. Please accept my apology ... and please, have a talk with the students I will be facing tomorrow. As attractive as an early retirement might be to me, I don’t think any rest home would let me bring my son.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Animals Take Head of Food Chain
When I began thinking about this week’s column, I was seriously considering a different topic. However, I read two articles that stirred me up.
Cats and dogs have been a part of my life since I was five years old. My first kitten was my best friend, and lived for almost 16 years. Throughout my 40 plus years, I have had an assortment of pets. No one has greater affection for animals than I.
I understand that many people’s lives are empty and they find companionship in their pets and I understand that animals love unconditionally. There has been research to support the benefits of pet ownership. Just petting a dog can bring a person’s blood pressure down. But that isn’t the point. An animal, regardless of its value and function, is still an animal. Their lives have value, but they should not be valued over that of a human life.
On the front page of a Sunday Amarillo newspaper, was an item under the “Check This Out” heading. This particular column dealt with a couple that had more money than sense. They had paid a research team to find a way to clone their 14-year-old dog.
Regardless of where you stand on the subject of cloning, spending $3.7 million to clone a dog is ludicrous. A dog, no matter how precious it may seem, is still just a dog. It cannot replace the value of a human life.
That $3.7 million bequest could have been used to do research for a cure of any number of human diseases. It could have gone a long way to bring relief to suffering.
Under the same heading, another artic le described the efforts off the coast of Massachusetts, to save a 50-ton whale from certain death due to an infection. I am sure this is a beautiful animal and haw sad that its life might be cut short. Who knows how many of these whales are left in the world? They might be, or could soon be, on the endangered species list. But consider how much money is being spent on this project already having involved five attempts.
And who knows how many more will be necessary before the whale might be saved.
When the day comes, and frankly, I think it could already be here, than an animal’s life has more value, more worth, than that of a human, then we all need to reassess our priorities
That $3.7 million I wrote of earlier is a lot of money. It could do an immense amount of good benefiting humanity, both ill and healthy. Food banks, homeless shelters, basic needs for the elderly, fans, heaters; the list could go on and on. I’m sure each of us must know at least one person who is so burdened by a lack of basic needs that just a small investment could improve their quality of life.
How many hungry families in Massachusetts could have benefited by a weeks worth of groceries provided by the funds used to attempt to save the whale?
How many children with juvenile diabetes went without insulin because their parents couldn’t afford if?
My intent is not to retract all funds that are available to help suffering animals, but rather to help us put these projects, and others like them, into perspective. Animals were put on this plant for us to have dominion over.
Human life seems to have little if any value these days. But I feel human life does have value and worth. For me it comes back to the topic of abortion. This ultimate form of child abuse takes the lives of more than a million babies each year. A million babies.
Abortions are performed on girls and women because they can’t afford to keep their child. How many could be saved by the funds spent on these two projects? If a child’s life could be saved with a $1,000, that $3.7 million bequest to clone a dog could potentially save 3,700 babies. One of those children might be the scientist who discovers a cure for AIDS, or Alzheimer’s or juvenile diabetes, or … well, you think of a disease.
The bottom line is this … if funds are available to save an animal’s life, then there should be matching funds to save the life of a human. Anything less is not acceptable.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Cats and dogs have been a part of my life since I was five years old. My first kitten was my best friend, and lived for almost 16 years. Throughout my 40 plus years, I have had an assortment of pets. No one has greater affection for animals than I.
I understand that many people’s lives are empty and they find companionship in their pets and I understand that animals love unconditionally. There has been research to support the benefits of pet ownership. Just petting a dog can bring a person’s blood pressure down. But that isn’t the point. An animal, regardless of its value and function, is still an animal. Their lives have value, but they should not be valued over that of a human life.
On the front page of a Sunday Amarillo newspaper, was an item under the “Check This Out” heading. This particular column dealt with a couple that had more money than sense. They had paid a research team to find a way to clone their 14-year-old dog.
Regardless of where you stand on the subject of cloning, spending $3.7 million to clone a dog is ludicrous. A dog, no matter how precious it may seem, is still just a dog. It cannot replace the value of a human life.
That $3.7 million bequest could have been used to do research for a cure of any number of human diseases. It could have gone a long way to bring relief to suffering.
Under the same heading, another artic le described the efforts off the coast of Massachusetts, to save a 50-ton whale from certain death due to an infection. I am sure this is a beautiful animal and haw sad that its life might be cut short. Who knows how many of these whales are left in the world? They might be, or could soon be, on the endangered species list. But consider how much money is being spent on this project already having involved five attempts.
And who knows how many more will be necessary before the whale might be saved.
When the day comes, and frankly, I think it could already be here, than an animal’s life has more value, more worth, than that of a human, then we all need to reassess our priorities
That $3.7 million I wrote of earlier is a lot of money. It could do an immense amount of good benefiting humanity, both ill and healthy. Food banks, homeless shelters, basic needs for the elderly, fans, heaters; the list could go on and on. I’m sure each of us must know at least one person who is so burdened by a lack of basic needs that just a small investment could improve their quality of life.
How many hungry families in Massachusetts could have benefited by a weeks worth of groceries provided by the funds used to attempt to save the whale?
How many children with juvenile diabetes went without insulin because their parents couldn’t afford if?
My intent is not to retract all funds that are available to help suffering animals, but rather to help us put these projects, and others like them, into perspective. Animals were put on this plant for us to have dominion over.
Human life seems to have little if any value these days. But I feel human life does have value and worth. For me it comes back to the topic of abortion. This ultimate form of child abuse takes the lives of more than a million babies each year. A million babies.
Abortions are performed on girls and women because they can’t afford to keep their child. How many could be saved by the funds spent on these two projects? If a child’s life could be saved with a $1,000, that $3.7 million bequest to clone a dog could potentially save 3,700 babies. One of those children might be the scientist who discovers a cure for AIDS, or Alzheimer’s or juvenile diabetes, or … well, you think of a disease.
The bottom line is this … if funds are available to save an animal’s life, then there should be matching funds to save the life of a human. Anything less is not acceptable.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Computers Are For All Ages
At the not-so-tender age of 35 I was jumping into new experiences on a daily basis. There were some days I was sure I could not go on. I had lived my life in a cocoon of sorts, and as great as desire was to escape, old habits died hard.
My source of torture was WTSU … for those of you who don’t know, in those day A&M had not yet been attached to WTSU, forever changing its name.
I had decided to go to college. As a freshman at WTSU, there were several classes I was required to take, one of which was a speech class.
The prospect of standing in front of my classmates simply terrified me. However, I quickly learned that speaking to a group was great fun.
One of my fellow students gave a speech on the $250.00 charge to her mother’s Niemann Marcus credit card. I could not understand how a recipe for chocolate chip cookies could possibly be worth $250.00, but I accepted that story as fact and vowed never to order cookies from Niemann Marcus. Now, of course, I know that story is nothing but myth and has the Internet to thank for its continued spread.
There was another class that I was terrified of, but, had no choice. The class was CIS 101. In layman’s terms, that is Computer Information Systems, the 101 simply meaning that it was basic.
My instructor was more concerned that her students learned the operating basic of the computer more than anything else. I was appreciative, because I was sure the computer was smarter than I, and learning the operating basics was all that I could possibly handle.
That was 13 years ago. In that span of time I have become so computer literate that I could confidently build my own computer, install upgrades, and learn just about any software. However, I would never consider myself a techie, and could not troubleshoot.
I love working on the computer and the expansive areas that are made available through the Internet. I would be content to work at the computer all day and night never running out of projects to do, software to get more familiar with, and games to play.
One of the things that I have greatly appreciated about the computer is my ability to transfer my graphic design skills to desktop publishing. In the old days, a graphic designer either used black and white clip art or drew their own. Since I needed a ruler to draw a straight line, graphic programs were a blessing.
There were other freshmen classes that I was required to take, but none made such an impact on me as the computer class. It taught me, among other things, that computers are still nothing but machines, and while their potential grows exponentially, the same machine could be well used by a gamer, a programmer, or someone who just wants to print up a grocery list.
Having said that, I’d like to share with a little bit about my son, Michael’s youth. At the tender age of three, he too, was introduced to computers. However, his success was a little different from mine. He has an accomplishment that I have not been able to claim, and hopefully never will.
My dear sweet son, quite innocently and using nothing but the keyboard, successfully crashed a computer.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
My source of torture was WTSU … for those of you who don’t know, in those day A&M had not yet been attached to WTSU, forever changing its name.
I had decided to go to college. As a freshman at WTSU, there were several classes I was required to take, one of which was a speech class.
The prospect of standing in front of my classmates simply terrified me. However, I quickly learned that speaking to a group was great fun.
One of my fellow students gave a speech on the $250.00 charge to her mother’s Niemann Marcus credit card. I could not understand how a recipe for chocolate chip cookies could possibly be worth $250.00, but I accepted that story as fact and vowed never to order cookies from Niemann Marcus. Now, of course, I know that story is nothing but myth and has the Internet to thank for its continued spread.
There was another class that I was terrified of, but, had no choice. The class was CIS 101. In layman’s terms, that is Computer Information Systems, the 101 simply meaning that it was basic.
My instructor was more concerned that her students learned the operating basic of the computer more than anything else. I was appreciative, because I was sure the computer was smarter than I, and learning the operating basics was all that I could possibly handle.
That was 13 years ago. In that span of time I have become so computer literate that I could confidently build my own computer, install upgrades, and learn just about any software. However, I would never consider myself a techie, and could not troubleshoot.
I love working on the computer and the expansive areas that are made available through the Internet. I would be content to work at the computer all day and night never running out of projects to do, software to get more familiar with, and games to play.
One of the things that I have greatly appreciated about the computer is my ability to transfer my graphic design skills to desktop publishing. In the old days, a graphic designer either used black and white clip art or drew their own. Since I needed a ruler to draw a straight line, graphic programs were a blessing.
There were other freshmen classes that I was required to take, but none made such an impact on me as the computer class. It taught me, among other things, that computers are still nothing but machines, and while their potential grows exponentially, the same machine could be well used by a gamer, a programmer, or someone who just wants to print up a grocery list.
Having said that, I’d like to share with a little bit about my son, Michael’s youth. At the tender age of three, he too, was introduced to computers. However, his success was a little different from mine. He has an accomplishment that I have not been able to claim, and hopefully never will.
My dear sweet son, quite innocently and using nothing but the keyboard, successfully crashed a computer.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
A Social Life -- Or Not
"Mommy is going out for awhile. No, you can't come with me." Just a couple of hours are all I wanted. Two short hours in the company of a man. "Just coffee, that's all. Well, some conversation, too." The day had come that I had been both looking forward to and dreading, simultaneously. Dating. Not an activity that I found particularly enjoyable, but was perhaps redeeming because it spoke to the hunger inside of me.
Hunger for adult companionship, hunger for adult conversation, and hunger for an adult face. And yes, hunger for some quality time with a man. Those are invitations to trouble when you're a single parent trying to create a social life for yourself. As any single parent knows, those hungers can take a sabbatical, attack one right after the other, or even worse, join forces, demanding to be satisfied all at once.
As a single parent, I have experienced each one of those hungers and the questions that arise in trying to feed them. How do I explain to my children, my need to establish a relationship with a man, to spend time with that man apart from them? How do I protect my children from possibly false expectations? Positive or negative. How do I -- or do I even try -- to keep my dating life separate from my life with my children?
The prime consideration though, had to be my children, and dispelling any fears they might have as a result of this new activity of mine. Understandably, my children would be somewhat anxious about my dating. They would have to be gently led.
Should I have the man come to our home? Should I introduce him to my children? To that end, not having the man come to our home was the right choice for me. I would not risk confusing my children on a possible relationship with a man. If and when the relationship developed into a serious one, I would reconsider. Until then, meeting at an appointed place was a logical solution. Without knowing much more about this man, I couldn't possibly know if I even wanted him around my children.
Dispelling any fears regarding this man's treatment of me was also something I had to deal with. The fear of the unknown can be powerful. My children could not be allowed to fear for my well being.
They would need additional affirmation from me so they would not fear for our relationship. It would mean spending extra quality time -- and maybe a little extra quantity time -- with them. I could not allow them to feel as if they were in competition for my time or love.
Beyond a doubt, mixing children with dating can create a myriad of complications when you're a single parent considering a social life for yourself. Avoiding the complications should be your target.
Before the dating process even begins, it would be wise to discuss with your children your desire to date and explain to them that the time away would not interfere in your relationship with them. Mind you, you're not asking your children permission to date. That is strictly an adult decision, your decision. But you want to include them as much as possible.
For small children, tell them when you get home you'll read them a story, or play a quick game of Chutes and Ladders. Give them a suggestion of how long you will be gone. For example, "Jonny Quest lasts for 30 minutes. I'll be gone for four Jonny Quest shows." Then remember to be prompt.
Middle age children might appear to handle it better on the outside, but on the inside their fears and concerns are just as real as a younger child's. Remind them that you need friends your age, friends to go places with. Reassure them that you will be just fine. If possible, leave the phone number of where you will be. Encourage them to call if they need you.
The one thing you always want to do is to be on time for your children. If you're going to be later than expected, call home and let them know. This is nothing but consideration, and your children deserve your consideration.
It's a shame that the world we live in is so replete with strange people, but we never know by looking at the outside, where another's heart is. Protecting our children must remain our primary consideration. By remembering to use common sense and understanding the fears your children may experience, you can greatly reduce any anxiety your dating may bring to your family.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
Hunger for adult companionship, hunger for adult conversation, and hunger for an adult face. And yes, hunger for some quality time with a man. Those are invitations to trouble when you're a single parent trying to create a social life for yourself. As any single parent knows, those hungers can take a sabbatical, attack one right after the other, or even worse, join forces, demanding to be satisfied all at once.
As a single parent, I have experienced each one of those hungers and the questions that arise in trying to feed them. How do I explain to my children, my need to establish a relationship with a man, to spend time with that man apart from them? How do I protect my children from possibly false expectations? Positive or negative. How do I -- or do I even try -- to keep my dating life separate from my life with my children?
The prime consideration though, had to be my children, and dispelling any fears they might have as a result of this new activity of mine. Understandably, my children would be somewhat anxious about my dating. They would have to be gently led.
Should I have the man come to our home? Should I introduce him to my children? To that end, not having the man come to our home was the right choice for me. I would not risk confusing my children on a possible relationship with a man. If and when the relationship developed into a serious one, I would reconsider. Until then, meeting at an appointed place was a logical solution. Without knowing much more about this man, I couldn't possibly know if I even wanted him around my children.
Dispelling any fears regarding this man's treatment of me was also something I had to deal with. The fear of the unknown can be powerful. My children could not be allowed to fear for my well being.
They would need additional affirmation from me so they would not fear for our relationship. It would mean spending extra quality time -- and maybe a little extra quantity time -- with them. I could not allow them to feel as if they were in competition for my time or love.
Beyond a doubt, mixing children with dating can create a myriad of complications when you're a single parent considering a social life for yourself. Avoiding the complications should be your target.
Before the dating process even begins, it would be wise to discuss with your children your desire to date and explain to them that the time away would not interfere in your relationship with them. Mind you, you're not asking your children permission to date. That is strictly an adult decision, your decision. But you want to include them as much as possible.
For small children, tell them when you get home you'll read them a story, or play a quick game of Chutes and Ladders. Give them a suggestion of how long you will be gone. For example, "Jonny Quest lasts for 30 minutes. I'll be gone for four Jonny Quest shows." Then remember to be prompt.
Middle age children might appear to handle it better on the outside, but on the inside their fears and concerns are just as real as a younger child's. Remind them that you need friends your age, friends to go places with. Reassure them that you will be just fine. If possible, leave the phone number of where you will be. Encourage them to call if they need you.
The one thing you always want to do is to be on time for your children. If you're going to be later than expected, call home and let them know. This is nothing but consideration, and your children deserve your consideration.
It's a shame that the world we live in is so replete with strange people, but we never know by looking at the outside, where another's heart is. Protecting our children must remain our primary consideration. By remembering to use common sense and understanding the fears your children may experience, you can greatly reduce any anxiety your dating may bring to your family.
Copyright, Debby Willett, All Rights, 2009-2010
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