Monthly Archives: April 2008

Pippin is still doing really well! He has quadrupled in size and he is really starting to act like a kitten now. He has teeth now, which he is ever ready to test out on my hands or arms. He is teething like crazy! He also spends a lot of his awake time wrestling with the little toy cats and dogs that Faith loaned to him as surrogate litter mates! Best we can tell, he’s winning most of those battles.

Next week (or possibly as early as this weekend) I am going to start weaning him. He is adorable, but I am getting very tired from staying up really late and getting up really early to feed him. Wow. . . I really cannot believe I have been bottle feeding a tiny kitten for over two weeks. I am so glad I’ve had help. Faith, Lishi and Mom have been terrific! Gaylon tries to feed him, too, but generally Pippin won’t eat from him.

At any rate, I was so worried when we got him that he wouldn’t make it, because I’m just not good at the whole bottle feeding thing, with human babies, never mind kittens! So I thought it was worth announcing that he’s doing great!

I read an interesting blog this morning, describing how President Bill Clinton has recently been accused of playing the ‘race card’ against Obama. Y-Decide 2008. Hmm. Okay, I am not a fan of Bill Clinton’s, but somehow this one doesn’t make sense. President Clinton was always doing something to help minorities. They used to love him! And, because apparently my lot in life is to always be the one screaming “The Emperor Has No Clothes!”, please allow me to point out the obvious, yet again: Obama is HALF WHITE. His mother is ENTIRELY WHITE. So, when somebody says something about him that is less than flattering (yours truly included) why does that have to have anything to do with race???

But then I am probably expecting too much, thinking that folks should behave and think like mature, rational adults, and actually vote on real issues, backed up by real facts supporting their chosen candidate’s positions(s), such as voting records, and looking at what sort of special interest groups are funding their campaign, because make no mistake: a special interest group is not about to give money to someone who isn’t going to further their cause!

And while I’m soapboxing here, I’d like to demonstrate my mastery of the obvious with one last point (for today): Obama is all about “Change you can believe in!” What is he going to change, how is he going to change it, and who is paying for it? All these young supporters don’t know what it’s like to live in a world that desperately needs to change. They don’t know what it’s like to go without food, or clothing or shelter. They don’t understand what it means to live under an oppressive government. They don’t have a clue about how valuable freedom of speech is, or the right to bear arms, or assemble in public. They probably don’t even know that those things are constitutional rights. They’ve always had those things, freely and in abundance. And so they do not value them. They do not get that the change they are cheering for is the type of society that gave birth to leaders like Stalin and Hitler.

Ask somebody who lived through WWII how they feel about the changes Obama is proposing. Ask someone who remembers what it was like when Hitler came to power, and what it was like living in Socialism. The crowds went wild cheering for Hitler, too. The young people believed him, because he was amazingly charismatic and mesmerizing. They never questioned him, or his motives. Until it was too late. I pray to God it does not grow so late in our own country!

Pippin in Kendall’s Hands
Originally uploaded by Morningtower

Last Monday, Gaylon found something small, gray and furry in a box of garbage at work. It turned out to be an abandoned kitten! So, we brought him home, and I’ve been bottle feeding him. He opened his eyes Sunday, and so he was apparently about 3 days old when we got him. He is the sweetest, most precious little thing!

I named him Pippin, and he is going to be my cat. (Everybody else already had their own cat.) That has not kept anybody else from loving him, though. Gaylon, Mom, Kendall, Lishi, and of course, Faith, are all as stupid over this little guy as I am.

Anyway, he is delightful, and growing like crazy. Lishi has been having a wonderful time taking awesome pictures of him. So yeah, I’m in love!

I really do like WordPress, and apparently, I’m not alone. The USCCB (United States Conference of Catholic Bishops) has a blog covering Pope Benedict XVI’s apostolic journey to the United States. How cool is that??

Lots of helpful info there, check it out: USCCB’s Papal Visit Blog

Okay, for the record, I have NEVER liked Bruce Springsteen. NEVER. I know that folks up in New York get all gushy and twitterpated over him, but I think he’s creepy. Unfortunately, simply because he’s a big rock star (and I am using the term ‘rock star’ VERY loosely here!!!) people are going to think his advice is sound. Right.

So, in the spirit of listening to the advice of rock stars, I found some pretty good advice from a REAL rock star:

If you’re listening to a rock star in order to get your information on who to vote for, you’re a bigger moron than they are.

~Alice Cooper~

Oh, yeah . . . in my utter disgust, I almost forgot to mention that the “Boss” is backing Obama. But then, if you read yesterday’s post, you already knew that!

Yep, I’m quoting Marx!  After all, it’s apparently the “in” thing to do these days!!!  Barack Obama is quoting him, so I figured I didn’t want to be left out.  Now, I am not very original, because I’m using the same quote Obama used, more or less.  He seems to think that people in economic stress cling to guns, religion and racism.  Say what?  Wow.  I’ve read a lot of stuff today about this, from Joe Nobody blogs to Wallstreet Journal articles.  They all seem to agree that he has pretty much hanged himself with that quote. (Oh, I hope so!!)  But I am going to say what nobody else has yet said (at least that I’ve found yet):  The man is a brazen idiot!!!! The more I hear about Obama, the more the hair on the back of my neck begins to stand straight up. First, he was talking about ’shared prosperity’, now he’s quoting Karl Marx!! For those of you who slept through history class, let me bring you up to speed here:  Communism and Marxism failed miserably!!!

Hello? Is there anybody out there? (Direct quote from Pink Floyd not intended.)  This is a very dangerous man, and he wants to lead our country?  He doesn’t have the skill, the experience, or the common sense to lead a dog through the park, much less lead our country.  So, it truly begs the question:  WHO is behind him?  I’m not talking about all the empty-headed young girls who are drooling all over him, or all of the racist blacks in our nation who are hoping for a public forum to express their views.  I mean, WHO is BEHIND him?  “What rough beast, his hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”  (W.B. Yeats)  Perhaps it’s Ted Kennedy.  Perhaps it’s some terrorist group looking to secure a strong foothold in our government, and bring the infidels at last to judgment.  Or maybe it’s some secret socialist society connected to the UN.  I don’t know.  What is painfully, frighteningly apparent to me, however, is that this man is not bright enough to get to this point on his own.  Somebody is working his strings behind the curtain.

And his wife?? Wow. She’s quite possibly more dangerous and deceitful than her husband. When she talks to black women’s organizations, she presents herself as the modern-day Aunt Jemima, who, in spite of insurmountable odds and dire poverty, managed to scrape and claw her way through college and marry an up-and-comer in the political scene. When she’s not busy spinning a false-memory childhood, she dresses like she just stepped off the cover of Vogue, not out of some hovel ruled by an oppressive, racist, bigoted ‘cracker’. Upon closer examination, we see that Michelle Obama actually grew up in a very nice home in Chicago. Yes, it was a ‘black neighborhood’, but a darned nice, upscale one. Far better than many ‘white neighborhoods’. Her parents were wonderful, and worked hard to make sure she and her brother got the best start in this world. Hmmm. . . my daddy didn’t send ME to Princeton!!

Do folks want a black president?  A woman president? Okay by me.  I suggest Colin Powell, or better still, Condoleeza Rice.  She’s black AND female!!  I would work my tail off campaigning door-to-door for either one them.  But with Obama as a possibility, I’m thinking maybe I need to update my passport!!

I got to talk to an old friend today that we’d lost touch with over the years. It was really nice, and he sent me some links to him singing on YouTube. Excellent, as always, and he said I could share, so, enjoy. . .

We thought we would
Be young forever;
Thirty days to eternity
And we could wear a fist.
We would give it all away
Just to keep it.

There were no limits
To the dreams we shared
Over tables flowing with coffee.
While we learned about love
As the smoke of our cigarettes
Swirled around our laughter.

I can still see the river
Smoky green and fast
Through the knotted oaks.
I can smell the smoke
Of campfire guitars
And breakfast burritos.

I can still remember
Burning summers
In a small gray room.
I can still feel
The closeness of midnight talks
And Led Zeppelin mornings.

We never thought it could end,
That any of us would ever grow old,
And we would all still be together
For the next campout.
Yes, it would last forever
And none of us would ever die.

~Camp Ben McCullough: Austin Campout~Almost Heaven~

Written in Memory of Steve McAllister, Norman Allen, Kim Settle and so many others. . . with special gratitude to Stewart & Sara Sroufe.

While I was digging through old records and documents down in Georgia, I found a lovely essay written by Sidney E. Stevens. The Stevens family was among some of the earliest settlers of Oglethorpe County, Georgia, along with my Boggs family. This essay was published in the University of Virginia’s “Corks and Curls” in 1924. It made me cry.

To The Daughter of The Old South

I plead for the old order which is passing away, for the old society which is fading, for that womanhood which created the gallantry and crowned the chivalry of the land of the South. I hate to see the Woman of the Old South go. She was my mother, my sister, my sweetheart. She had the form which the Grecian chisel traced in marble, and the character which the Roman orator framed in sentences. She had a face like an opal that had sipped red wine; lips that had been touched by the brush of a pink dipped in the blood of a rose; hands softer than velvet, smoother than satin and truer than steel. She had the princely graces of a maiden, and the royal virtues of a matron, the idol of her children, the model of her slaves. The crimson tides which flowed through her veins were full and bounding; nothing bold nor brazen; not a mere mollusk fattening upon the banks of life for the fishery of death. The ideas which possessed her mind were forceful and intelligent, never stupid, insipid, and insane. The feelings which throbbed in her heart were queenly and radiant, rich and luxuriant. Her speech was as clean as the face of the stream and her words were like jewels on a purple tray. Refinement and culture, elegance and modesty, charity and culture, sweetness and courage, piety and devotion waited at the altar where she made the offerings of the best that was in her. The tone of her life was as pure as the liquid note of the woodlark’s evening song when she charms her mate in the fragrant gloaming.

She loved poetry, music and art; dancing and laughter and songs; riding and boating; frolic and play; but pleasure unsoiled its shoe and whitened its lips when it crossed the threshold where she stood.

To her womanliness each morning emptied a golden goblet and each evening hymned a sacred lay.

I hate to see her go, this Woman of the Old South, who mothered the sons that followed Lee and Jackson, and who brought back from Appomattox an honor stainless enough ever for her lips, a fame like untracked snow on Alpine mountain tops. She laid her hand upon the pots and kettles, and sung the song of hope and cheer, while his brave hand created wealth out of poverty, and built homes out of ashes, and reconstructed society out of chaos. In the calm peaceful days, before the cannon’s broad strakes had trenched the land, she was the brightest star in the Southern sky; and in the days of battle and blood, she was the inspiration of courage, and the angel of mercy; and in the days of defeat of desolation she was the spirit of hope and the helpmate of man.