I had not been to the grocery store in about two weeks. When I went yesterday, I was shocked to see such a rise in prices in such a short time. Never in my lifetime have I seen grocery prices jump so rapidly. At the soup shelf, several others of my generation were just standing and staring at the cans of soup.
One lady starring at the chicken noodle soup said, “I hate to pay these prices, but my husband loves chicken noodle soup so guess I’ll get him a can.”
In today’s climate of revved up political speeches—all tromping, stomping and chomping at the bit—it seems so much of the verbiage is focused on what the centralized government is going to do for all of us—a commitment to give all of us a free lunch while taking us into the promise land. It reminds me of the days when President Delano Roosevelt had the same plans.
Remember that no political government has anything until it first takes something from someone. The operative word is “take” because people do not voluntarily give their property to a centralized political system.
I’m reminded of the story of the wild hogs in the swamp area of the Okefenokee in southeast Georgia. For years, the local residents tried to capture the hogs for food. However, as legend has it, anyone who ventured into the swamp to capture the hogs never returned. Consequently, the locals were afraid to go into the swamp area.
One day, a one-gallused stranger in overalls (now known as jeans) rode into town in a wagon inquiring as to where he could find the wild hogs he had heard about. All the locals looked at each other and knew right away he was not from around there, or he would have known better than to consider capturing the wild animals. He insisted on directions and they were so stunned they could only point him in the direction.
I loved the story about “The Horse Whisperer” and very much enjoyed a program I saw on television several years ago about a man who seemed to know everything about roping and training wild horses out west. He would track these beautiful wild creatures, spending days following them, then roping and working with them as they fought the restraining capture and the ensuing power struggle to convince the wild horse to submit to his leadership.
As he explained his technique, it all boiled down to the willing submission of the horse to his leadership. And in the course of the event, one could see how the horse eventually felt comfortable with the leadership of his captor. The animal stopped fighting and went along with his new companion.
It reminded me of the man who told his wife that the way to train a horse was to be gentle, then took her along on a wild training mission where he hit the horse with a buggy whip, to the surprise of his wife. She reminded him of telling her to be gentle and he replied, “but first I must get his attention.”
I recall another story about a man appearing before the King after committing a crime, when the King told the man he would spare his life if he would teach his horse to fly in six months. The man agreed to the bargain, and returned home telling his family and friends about his pact with the King. All told him it was a crazy, far fetched idea, but the man explained, “in six months the king might die, in six months he may die, and who knows, in six months I might teach that horse to fly.” An optimistic outlook for one facing the death penalty, I dare say.
I can’t help but compare the training of horses to the current political situation. The wild promises the candidates make, the extreme unruliness of some of their ideas and promises…promises of plans to take care of all of us in various ways…while American citizens face run a way inflation, an unbridled raging war costing billions and now headed into trillions, open borders flooding with illegal aliens. What voters are looking for is leadership. Someone with the rationale to lead us out of a wild mess of things.
However, I for one neither do nor hear leadership, but an emphasis on winning the election and the lust for power and the seduction of the process. One person, Ron Paul, did express some sane ideas in his short stint as low man on the totem pole. Yet he did not last long in the horse race. Now we are down to three candidates that are so similar if they were shaken up in a paper bag I don’t know which would fall out first. If it were not for the seriousness of the situation, it would be downright ludicrous.
I looked up the word “candidate” in the dictionary and the definition stated, “one who seeks or nominated for an office of honor or privilege.”
About a year and half ago I moved from Atlanta to a little town in a historic district located northeast of Atlanta.
The house had recently been restored; complete with a fenced in backyard, security lights, and a large vacant lot between my house and a neighbor’s. The lot has a white picket fence with an arched entrance. At the back edge are blueberry and Muscatine vines growing over the arches. The entire lot is completely filled with azaleas, now in full bloom. The white and pink azaleas are a remarkable sight when I look out my window every morning. They remind me of the Beatrice Potter stories.
After a lengthy drought here in Georgia, the April showers came in full force. Now the weather is warming so I take 3-year-old Prince William (my grandson) outside to play. A couple of days ago, while sitting on the patio, two bumblebees playfully chased each other around our heads. Watching them play, I wondered if any one had ever figured out why they fly.
Copyright 2008-2012, Anne Cleveland. Feel free to quote me or use snippets of my text with attribution – but please refrain from reusing entire posts without first procuring written permission.
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