Why do men get raped in jail?
My answer:  Some people are bad.  Next question?
What I wanted to say:  Have you been to prison?  There’s not a whole lot else to do if you don’t like to read.

Why did the President make a law that boys can’t hit girls?
My answer:  That’s actually more of a rule than a law.  And remember, Congress makes law, not the President.
What I wanted to say:  Because he wants boys to shoot girls instead.

Why do people go to jail?
My answer:  To punish, rehabilitate, and protect society from those who commit felonies.
What I wanted to say:  Because they can’t sing or dance.

Why do people steal?
My answer:  Some people want nice things but don’t want to work to buy them, so they take without asking.
What I wanted to say:  So the government has competition.

Can I go to jail for lying?
My answer:  If you’re testifying under oath in court and lie, you may.
What I wanted to say:  Yes, but you might go to jail for NOT lying, too, so it could be worth it.

If someone break into my house, do he go to jail?
My answer:  If he’s convicted, he likely will.
What I wanted to say:  Not in this neighborhood.

How can someone break into a house anyway?
-another kid:  my daddy just climb up the side o’ the house.
My answer:  I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.
What I wanted to say:  Sounds like your buddy can help you.

How come you got 2 jobs?
–another kid:  ‘Cause he like money.
My answer:  I like having two very different, and very rewarding, professions.
What I wanted to say:  Yeah, your friend is right.

My brother got a video game where he wears a gas mask and dogs chase him for training–do you do that?
My answer:  Not yet.  Next question?
What I wanted to say:  I think your brother has a drug problem.  Please don’t mimic his behavior.

How long does it take to put on your uniform?
My answer:  We’re required to be able to put on the mask in just a few seconds and the entire ensemble in a few minutes.
What I wanted to say:  About 15 minutes too long the first time, since invariably, our issued gear will be the wrong size.

Why did you drop a bomb on Japan?
My answer:  That occurred on August 6, 1945 and again on August 9, 1945.  I was born 30 years later.
What I wanted to say:  Because I bought a BetaMax player instead of VHS.

Weren’t children killed when the bomb was dropped on Japan?
My answer:  Unfortunately, yes.
What I wanted to say:  Just the ones who wouldn’t eat their vegetables.

Have you been shot?
My answer:  No, but our plane was “shot at.”
What I wanted to say:  I got shot down when I tried to buy a non-alcoholic beer for a female Colonel.

Why would anyone want to be a lawyer?
My answer:  We get to solve complicated problems and make a decent living doing it.
What I wanted to say:  Because I can’t sing or dance.

How come y’all object all the time?
My answer:  Because the other attorney is trying to get something into evidence that is not allowed.
What I wanted to say:  To get street cred with the jury, who expects such behavior from cool David E. Kelley shows.

What was the most interesting trial you’ve had?
My actual answer:  Well, my most recent trial involved a woman who alleged she got carpal tunnel syndrome at a pizza restaurant, when she really got it engaging in a side business about which she lied.  She lost.
What I wanted to say:  The Scopes Monkey Trial.

Where did you sleep in Iraq?
My answer:  In a single-wide trailer this time.  In 2003, I was in a tent that a few of us had to erect. 
What I wanted to say:  In the dirt, while you slept under the blanket of freedom I was providing.

How long was the plane ride to Iraq?
My answer:  More than a day, when the stops were included…about 20 hours.
What I wanted to say:  Long enough that my butt was tingling like yours does after a spanking.

Can the planes land somewhere secret and covered up?
My answer:  Sort of.  Helicopters can land just about anywhere, but most planes can’t.  We had C-130s landing where I was in ’03, as the runway was not very developed, but now, larger planes can come in and out.
What I wanted to say:  Yes, it’s called the Persian Gulf.

Do y’all go to counseling or something for when you shoot a bunch of people for a long time and then come back and think you’re wanting to beat your wife?
My answer:  All of us had to meet with a counselor when we got back, and we can continue at the VA if we want to.
What I wanted to say:  Sure, AA each week.

I thought a good way to “deal” with the feelings the PSAs told me about was to go to the local elementary school to talk about my experience with a bunch of unsuspecting children on “career day.”  I kept the introduction I was required to give short for two reasons:  1) I didn’t make time for a well-prepared canned speech and 2) I thought answering a bunch of their questions would be more fun.  I was right.  Here are the unedited questions I could remember immediately after getting back to my office that day:

5th grade:
Why do we go to war?
What was the most interesting trial you’ve had?
Where did you sleep in Iraq?
How long was the plane ride to Iraq?
Can the planes land somewhere secret and covered up?
Do y’all go to counseling or something for when you shoot a bunch of people for a long time and then come back and think you’re wanting to beat your wife?

4th grade:
If you use night vision glasses, isn’t everything green?
My brother got a video game where he wears a gas mask and dogs chase him for training–do you do that?
How long does it take to put on your uniform?
Why did you drop a bomb on Japan?
Weren’t children killed when the bomb was dropped on Japan?
Have you been shot?
Why would anyone want to be a lawyer?
How come y’all object all the time?

2nd grade:
If my momma doesn’t like a man and gets another man to hurt him, will my momma go to jail?
Why do men get raped in jail?
Why did the President make a law that boys can’t hit girls?
Why do people go to jail?
Why do people steal?
Can I go to jail for lying?
If someone break into my house, do he go to jail?
How can someone break into a house anyway?
-another kid:  My daddy just climb up the side o’ the house.
How come you got 2 jobs?
–another kid:  ‘Cause he like money.

In my next post, I’ll reveal my answers to these questions. 

I’m not talking about giving money to a military charity, serving in a soup line for homeless veterans on holidays or even reaching out through your church to help the needy in your military community with winter clothing or food drives.

That’s easy giving. Easy in the sense that you do what you feel you need to do as a contribution to society and back home you go to your own comfortable existence once you’ve done it.

I’m referring to the really tough giving. The stuff that downright gets your hands dirty by the amount of challenge involved where you don’t mind the extreme amount of effort it takes. The kind of giving that requires a serious day-to-day commitment and a certain degree of personal sacrifice to do everything within your power to bring quality to the life of another individual.

For instance, a kid.

A kid like the African-American boy we took into our home five months ago and treat as if he were another son in our house. He’s eighteen and still in high school, the best friend to our son – also in high school. This smart, talented, wonderful kid is morbidly obese and had no clue what a decent meal was after spending the last eight years of his life living on ramen noodles and macaroni and cheese. He didn’t know how to drive a car, get a job, enjoy happiness within the framework of a loving family.

A kid so starved for attention and affection that he put his head down and openly wept when we asked him, all of a sudden after his father had viciously cussed him out on the phone for the hundreth time, to please move in and join our family.

This boy’s mother died when he was ten years old. Raised from that point on by an uncaring, emotionally-abusive father who had previously only been an occasional weekend father to his son, this man is also considered an outstanding member of his local Navy Reserve unit. And yet, he had no trouble merely kicking his only child to the curb.

We receive no government assistance for this boy. Why in the world would we want a boy from the ghetto to continue to live as if he’s still in the ghetto by securing public aid for him? He’s a member of the family now. We financially support him the same as we do our other two sons who are still living at home.

We buy him what he needs. Feed him nourishing, healthy meals. Encourage him to believe in himself and his dreams. Help him find a job, take the SATs and register for college. Most importantly, do what we can to make him feel wanted and loved.

It isn’t easy, not by a long shot. We have a small home. We don’t have the room or the means to comfortably take such a step in the financial sense. It’s amazing what a small house and a tight family budget can handle when you put your mind to it. How well your kids can instantly pull together and show you the stuff they’re really made of when you reach out to someone this way. Someone who really needs you.

Like a kid.

Want to make an important contribution to the world? Make a serious commitment, accepting in the process the sacrifice that comes attached to helping someone who desperately deserves a better life. Simply open your door and your heart to…a kid.

You don’t have to be Angelina Jolie with millions of dollars in the bank to adopt a child from a third world country with a lot of glitz and fanfare. Heck, we have enough needy kids right here in our own country crying out to be emotionally adopted by good families. The kind of families that have a wealth of love and compassion to take that child in and say, “You matter. You matter to us.”

Who knows, we might have a future black President of the United States currently living in our midst here on Simons Drive – or a Quincy Jones-like-up-and-coming brilliant musician who will one day graciously accept his third Grammy on live television as he now occasionally takes out the garbage.

This boy can compose music that would knock your socks off. He is also driven by a sense of rightness and a deep sensibility that tells us he is definitely bound for bigger and better things.

All this kid needs is a chance. We feel it’s our personal responsibility to help him get that chance. You’d better believe we are doing everything we can to stand in the gap to make sure he gets it. This amazing, beautiful, loveable kid.

Don’t think about it, just do it. Take a child like Kyle into your family. Just like that. Do it. When he smiles at you and says, “Have a nice day,” on his way out the door in the morning, you’ll know you’re doing something important, something that really matters.

You won’t be sorry, I promise you.

]]> http://clubamerica.wordpress.com/2008/05/09/help-a-kid-help-the-world/feed/ 0 debketner http://clubamerica.wordpress.com/2008/05/09/freedoms/ http://clubamerica.wordpress.com/2008/05/09/freedoms/#comments Sat, 10 May 2008 00:47:32 +0000 aingealicia http://clubamerica.wordpress.com/?p=66 ]]> As I sit here and think,

of all the things I have done.

Of all the battles fought,

all the wars won.

I stand for the freedoms,

that we have held so dear.

As we send boys to war,

families are left here.

No matter where you go,

no matter where you look.

You will find the future,

hiding in a book.

Is it 1776?

1984?

Do we cross the boarders,

as we ask for more.

Can you understand the beaches,

they truly are nice.

Unless your sleep is disturbed,

by shouting and lights.

As war is outbreaking,

in more than one place.

My question is this,

are we ready for what we face?

Freedoms taken,

speech to be destroyed.

Become an “enemy combatant”

and be deployed.

Speak out about the Government,

proud and true.

Tell the truth behind the lies,

that is what I do.

Placing freedom on the line,

securities could be sorted.

Hey maybe if I upset them enough,

I can even get water boarded.

Sounds like a good time,

vacation paid for.

Its not just about GitMo,

there is defiantly more.

All that has been hidden,

all of the lies.

Another soldier sent home,

as one more dies.

They stand and fight for what they believe,

no one ever will blame them.

Bad mouthing those girls and boys,

destroys them once again.

Never give up the 1st Amendment right,

stand and believe.

The future is that of what our minds,

can truly conceive.

Now that you have read this,

I hope you see.

I write to protect our freedoms,

lives, soldiers, and liberties.

Yes Drill Sgt. Sir

Cadence call.

Yes Drill Sergeant Sir.

Cadence

Call…

Let them know you.

Your left, your left,

your left, right, left.

Rock to the sound,

the sound of the beat.

The heart.

The street,

the beat of your feet.

On the pavement that cries.

As the blood shall spill.

How many,

how many more do we kill?

Yes, Drill Sergeant Sir.

Can you hear the sound of the cadence?

The cadence call.

Your left, your left,

your left, right, left.

To the sand to play I must go.

Your left, your left,

you get the drill stand in line.

Grab the gun,

walk with me under,

under the sun.

Your left, right, left.

The packs are heavy,

as salt falls on my eyes.

It is better than those at home,

tears are more their size.

For they know not of the,

Cadence Call.

That draws my feet neigh.

Your left, your left.

Rise you from the slumber,

as you set your mind at ease.

To sit at home under a tree,

if only to feel the breeze.

Your left, right, left.

Blood for oil,

oil for blood.

What does it matter?

Sand and liquid make mud.

Come fight your own damn war,

you leaders of men.

Fuck you,

I want to go home again.

Your left, your left.

I got a daughter I used to kiss to sleep.

What the hell,

what the hell do you have to keep?

Damn it,

what was that as the flash in the air.

Lights fill the night with a second blink

to spare.

Your left, right, left.

As the piercing slides right in.

I stair and see,

it is the same man

staring back at me.

The cadence upon our lips.

Your left, right, left.

All I can think.

As the chopper comes down.

Taking both of us.

Even though our sides are,

not of the same ground.

“You Bastards.”

My mind yells,

“You psychedelic whores;

You send us to fight your God Damned bloody wars.

While sitting in your cushy homes.

Families sitting near by.”

I said the man beside me,

as we heard the cadence called.

“Please Mr. Commanders in Chief.

We, as all Nations,

can we have some more?

For after all aren’t all sides,

fighting for the Dichotomy of War?”

As he nodded in agreement,

the only difference between us two

Were the books of

faith we knew.

Your left, your left,

your left, right, left.

Not only do you have a steady (and relatively guaranteed) paycheck coming in twice a month, but there is a definite chain of command that lenders can follow if you default on your obligation.  In other words, lenders can’t really call a civilian’s boss and give them grief about a subordinate’s missed payment, but in the military setting lenders can – and will – call supervisors and First Sergeants if someone under them isn’t paying as scheduled.

Creditors also know that military folks are supposed to keep their financial affairs in order, so even though some active duty people turn to bankruptcy it’s generally frowned upon within the military culture.

All combined, this paints an attractive picture to potential lenders because:

1.  They can be pretty sure you aren’t going to lose your job unexpectedly.

2.  They know you are accountable to someone higher ranking, and they can call this person if necessary.

3.  They assume that you are less likely to declare bankruptcy.

The next time you see an offer for a credit card or loan that makes the claim that they are doing some sort of patriotic duty by granting credit to military folks, take it with a grain of salt.  You are much more attractive to lenders than you may think, even if you have a couple of blemishes on your credit report. 

Sick of all those crazy cooking shows on TV that glorify every kind of kitchen expert from Bobby Flay to Alton Brown and Rachel Ray.

Tired of how they pirouette around in front of the camera as if they were born with a doggone souffle pan in one hand and a wire whisk in the other.

Personally, I hate these shows. I pretty much hate these cooks, too, considering the fact that they do NOT make any part of what they do in the kitchen look easy.

(They just want us to think that’s what they’re doing!)

If you ask me, Easy is shoveling a blob of goo inside a turkey and out from the oven comes an outstanding Thanksgiving Day bird ready for baptizing with a nice sharp carving knife…. know what I mean??

Or throwing a bunch of mush together and next thing you know, you are expertly serving a delicious spaghetti dinner for ten with all the trimmings.

(To your bitchy in-laws even.)

As far as I’m concerned, if you want to get yourself all tied up in knots as a cook, ready to have a nervous breakdown at the mere mention of the terms “sear” and “saute”, just keep watching these stupid shows.

Myself, I’d rather you hung out here with me where I will share with you every single secret I know as a kitchen klutz to make you look like you just won the *Gold* at the Olympics as a cook – even though “we” will know the truth behind that illusion of kitchen triumph!

Born a dyed-in-the-wool kitchen klutz, I have spent the better part of the last 25 years as the most complimented cook I know.

How can that be? Simple. I’ve learned how to cook extremely well using a little creativity, deception and ingenuity!

Stick around and I’ll teach you the ins and outs of “klutz cooking” so that you, too, can go for the *Gold* in your own kitchen.

After all…we klutzes have to stick together!