keith44spl
Member
Measure you words carefully,
I know I'm the worst to hi-jack a thread with some flippant remark, or disseminate something I should not.
As the time draws nigh and we are faced with many decisions on the most emotional issues at hand.
Let's us be measured in our thoughts and writings….As the ol' saw goes, the spoken word is as free as air,
but the written word is always there.
As an old gent once said, "Never write what can be spoken aloud, never aloud what can be whispered,
nor what can be conveyed with a wink."
*
Now it's story time Boys & Girls,
I can see it in my minds eye, just a liken to a Rockwell painting.
.
A little family gathered round the fireplace.
A young mother in her favorite chair, with her small son and daughter nestled on a pallet in front of the fire.
By the coal oil lamp she reads a Bible story from long ago. The dying flames of the evening's fire still glow across the room.
The Dutch oven resting on the bed of coals at the hearth, with beef and beans still warm from supper,
the coffee pot wisps an inviting scent into the air.
What a lovely sight, the old man sees from his perch at the other end of the rock hearth.
As the old man leans toward the fire to light his pipe, he is thankful for his grand children and his daughter-in-law, glad in his heart they are here tonight.
The children are being home schooled now…Well, since the school was looted and burned.
The rolling black-outs don't affect the little ranch house all that much, what with a good well with a hand pump and
plenty of fire wood close at hand.
He worries for his neighbors and hopes they are fairing well.
It is an odd time, it surely is. What with all the trouble in the big cities and towns, no groceries to speak of, nor gasoline.
A lot of folks didn't count on all of this…They thought they'd be taken care of, what with free hand-outs and all.
Some are takin whatever they can find, where ever they find it.
He glances at the rifle standing in the corner close at hand, his Gov't model 45, just like the ones he carried so long ago in '68
whilst humpin' in the Ashau Valley for his government's sake.....
Between puffs on his pipe he whispers a silent prayer for his son, this young woman's husband and these children's father.
A prayer for his safe return, from some God forsaken corner of earth, as he too serves his country tonight.
A final prayer from the old man's lips, "Dear Lord, might there be peace on earth,,,tonight."
.
It's jest a story…..
May God Help Us All
I know I'm the worst to hi-jack a thread with some flippant remark, or disseminate something I should not.
As the time draws nigh and we are faced with many decisions on the most emotional issues at hand.
Let's us be measured in our thoughts and writings….As the ol' saw goes, the spoken word is as free as air,
but the written word is always there.
As an old gent once said, "Never write what can be spoken aloud, never aloud what can be whispered,
nor what can be conveyed with a wink."
*
Now it's story time Boys & Girls,
I can see it in my minds eye, just a liken to a Rockwell painting.
.
A little family gathered round the fireplace.
A young mother in her favorite chair, with her small son and daughter nestled on a pallet in front of the fire.
By the coal oil lamp she reads a Bible story from long ago. The dying flames of the evening's fire still glow across the room.
The Dutch oven resting on the bed of coals at the hearth, with beef and beans still warm from supper,
the coffee pot wisps an inviting scent into the air.
What a lovely sight, the old man sees from his perch at the other end of the rock hearth.
As the old man leans toward the fire to light his pipe, he is thankful for his grand children and his daughter-in-law, glad in his heart they are here tonight.
The children are being home schooled now…Well, since the school was looted and burned.
The rolling black-outs don't affect the little ranch house all that much, what with a good well with a hand pump and
plenty of fire wood close at hand.
He worries for his neighbors and hopes they are fairing well.
It is an odd time, it surely is. What with all the trouble in the big cities and towns, no groceries to speak of, nor gasoline.
A lot of folks didn't count on all of this…They thought they'd be taken care of, what with free hand-outs and all.
Some are takin whatever they can find, where ever they find it.
He glances at the rifle standing in the corner close at hand, his Gov't model 45, just like the ones he carried so long ago in '68
whilst humpin' in the Ashau Valley for his government's sake.....
Between puffs on his pipe he whispers a silent prayer for his son, this young woman's husband and these children's father.
A prayer for his safe return, from some God forsaken corner of earth, as he too serves his country tonight.
A final prayer from the old man's lips, "Dear Lord, might there be peace on earth,,,tonight."
.
It's jest a story…..
May God Help Us All
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