This came to me through my first cousin, Spencer Turner, It was posted by a person named, Donna Apter, who I do not even know, but it points out what kind of a person our next president, Joe Biden is, and it is well worth reading. No Joe may not have a silver tongue, but we all know he has a heart of gold, showing Love instead of hate for ALL Americans. He is well known all over the world and is able to be friends with all persons in Congress, not making enemies with all; this is what America needs right now to undo the harm done to our great country over almost four years.
HERE IS THE ORIGINAL POST
”The story I’m about to share with you about Joe Biden is special — in fact, I’m fairly certain I’m the only living person left who actually witnessed it firsthand.
It was about 16 years ago, and I was a young rabbi, brand-new to Delaware, on my way to lead a shiva minyan — a worship service following the death of a Jewish person. I was from California. Back then, I didn’t know Claymont, Delaware from Scranton, Pennsylvania.
A quick bit of background: When someone passes away in the Jewish faith, we observe seven days of mourning, called shiva.
We gather a group of ten Jewish adults together — a minyan — to say the Mourners’ Kaddish. It usually happens in a person’s home — somewhere intimate. In this case, the deceased individual — her name was Mrs. Greenhouse, of blessed memory — had not been a person of means. She had lived in rent-controlled senior housing in a tall high-rise building off of Namaans Road. Her apartment had been too small to fit everyone into, so we conducted our worship service in the building’s communal laundry room, in the basement of the high-rise. We assembled the ten elders together, and it was in this most humble of places that I began to lead the kaddish.
Toward the end of the service, a door at the back of the laundry room opened, and who walks in but Senator Joe Biden, his head lowered, all by himself. I nearly dropped my prayer book in shock. Senator Biden stood quietly in the back of the room for the duration of the service.
At the close of the kaddish, I walked over to him and asked the same question that must have been on everyone else’s mind: “Senator Biden — what are you doing here?”
And he said to me: “Listen, back in 1972, when I first ran for Senate, Mrs. Greenhouse gave $18 to my first campaign. Because that’s what she could afford. And every six years, when I’d run for reelection, she’d give another $18. She did it her whole life. I’m here to show my respect and gratitude.”
Now, the number 18 is significant in the Jewish faith — its numbers spell out the Hebrew word chai, as in “to life, to life, l’chayim!” But it’s also a humble amount. Joe Biden knew that. And he respected that. There were no news outlets at our service that day — no Jewish reporters or important dignitaries. Just a few elderly mourners in a basement laundry room. Joe Biden didn’t come to that service for political gain. He came to that service because he has character. He came to that service because he’s a mensch.
And if we need anything right now when it comes to the leadership of our country — we need a mensch. I know this is such a simple, small story. But I tell it to as many people as will listen to me. Because I think that, in their heart of hearts, when people are trying to think about the decision they’ll make this year — this is the kind of story that matters.
Joe Biden is a mensch. We need a mensch. Thanks for reading. “
“The threat to America’s survival will not come from abroad. If destruction (is to) be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freedmen, we must live through all time, or die by suicide.”
When I read the papers, and watch the news; when I go to the store and see people with the attitude that their “rights” are being violated if asked to follow intelligent instructions, on how to save lives, including their own. When I see a president espousing his own warped ideas and reiterates on not following these rules. When I see thousands of his followers gathering in opposition to common sense, I can only think that America is VERY sick, and we have a bad doctor leading us to destruction.
Wake up America, wake up and remember that the medicine may be bitter, but to survive we must swallow it down, even if it takes a “little bit of sugar” to make it go down~!
This is a story about Sarah who was in the fertilized egg business. She had several hundred young pullets and ten roosters to fertilize the eggs.
She kept records and any rooster not performing went into the gumbo pot and was replaced.
This took a lot of time, so she bought some tiny bells and attached them to her roosters. Each bell had a different tone, so she could tell from a distance which rooster was performing. Now, she could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report by just listening to the bells.
Sarah’s favorite rooster, old Butch, was a very fine specimen but, this morning she noticed old Butch’s bell hadn’t rung at all! When she went to investigate, she saw the other roosters were busy chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing, but the pullets hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover.
To Sarah’s amazement, old Butch had his bell in his beak, so it couldn’t ring. He’d sneak up on a pullet, do his job, and walk on to the next one. Sarah was so proud of old Butch, she entered him in a Show and he became an overnight sensation among the judges. The result was the judges not only awarded old Butch the “No Bell Peace Prize” they also awarded him the “Pulletsurprise” as well.
Clearly old Butch was a politician in the making. Who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the unsuspecting populace and screwing them when they weren’t paying attention?
Vote carefully in the next election. You can’t always hear the bells.
I am a big fan of Jimmy Nelson and his work, bringing us a look at the dwindling first nation peoples of our earth. His books are some of the most beautiful coffee table books you can own. If a bit pricey they are worth it.
This is my music for today and a reminder that I never did finish my story on the primitive Motilones of Colombia and Venezuela. Sorry about that, but it is such a sad story that I have not wanted to re-open my thoughts to it. I will try to get back to it soon.
I found the background story of this “prize winning photo” very interesting, as it tells such a uncanny resemblance to a parallel story of our present problems in America and around the world.
The virus, an uncaring ignorant government, superior attitude of one people over another, and a hate and bigotry that has been within us sense the beginning of time.
Puerto Rico has been out of focus for most of it’s modern history, both on their Island Country, and also in America, where many came to seek a better life. Now this Underwater and Out of Focus life is telling us that there must be change in our attitude toward others, who have lived this out of focus life throughout their history.
I am posting this, but it may arrive with the accompanying adds, please click on the X to say you do not want to watch them.
And be sure to click on “Behind the Devastating, Prize-Winning Image ‘Muerto Rico’”, if needed.
If you are thinking the way that I do today you will see the UNCANNY resemblance of this story to our present predicaments, and how understanding this may help you to cope as well as helping others to cope as well.
There is a long story about this poem which I wrote long ago. It is one of my favorites. I just today noticed that I had never posted it. So today, on Memorial day, I felt it would say something as meaningful to you, as it does to me.
I need to ask you: “what is PEACE”~?, A cliché says “Pax to the Max”, but is it a place, object or a feeling, let’s take a look at all the facts.
It is a quiet place in the woods, It is being with one you love. It is thinking of something good, or even a photo of a dove.
It is the sound of falling water, on a trickling mountain stream. Just thinking of one another, or even a pleasant dream.
We only think that it’s the option, of not going away to war. Or getting rid of corruption, by putting the evil behind bars.
When we look at someone dead, we say: “ now they are at peace”. When I hear that being said, I think “come on, would you please~?”
We all desire peace, in all the lands afar,, it should be our prime desire, to do away with things of war, and stop the guns that fire.
Marching with signs is very nice, and singing peace songs may be too, but getting rid of all the vice, could bring more peace to me and you.
So keep a smiling peaceful face, say every peaceful word you know. having compassion for every race, is a the peaceful way to go.
I face today, not thinking about grilling hamburgers or going to the beach, or even crying over the fact that our lives have been put into turmoil, due to this terrible virus sickness.
Instead I am thinking about how I was raised by a father who gave his life long after his service to our country was past, keeping the peace by working for veterans as the Louisiana Commander of the VFW. He put us kids to work each year, long before this day of memory arrived, by having us make little “memory crape poppies”, and then on Memorial Day, or (Veterans Day), he took us to places in town, where we handed out these little memory tokens of Flanders Field. This is my memory of this day, my father and my brother, both laid to rest in one of those peaceful Memorial Cemeteries.
Today take time to read John McCrae’s poem “In Flanders Fields” which will give you an idea of what today is all about. Or you may read the only poem “PEACE”, where I have written on the subject, not about war, but about Peace. This tells more of what it is all about~!
I am sure “that man” who we so erroneously put into the position of “Commander in Chief”, over all of those men and women, both the living and those who died so we can enjoy Peace in America, will have something to say about today.
I am sure it will not be commemorative, but rather a rant as “Slander in chief” in an attempt to keep his angry life in charge, by putting down the other half of Americans who do not belong to his political party.
In my many visits to our National Cemetery’s I have never seen, not on even on one grave, the political party that the entombed belonged to, but rather name rank and where they served in the name of Peace. They served for America and ALL Americans. Think about this today, not hate~!
In Flanders Fields
By John McCrae In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie, In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.
Shame, shame, shame on you. You just don’t know what you can do. You bought him a cute little cloth rat, which had inside something that made him have a fit, batting it around, throwing it up, and making a happy sounds.
It attracted him to put on a show, batting it around, until it broke, so then something spilled out of it, and he rubbed and licked it, having a fit. You got it from your pet store, for sure you could get him more.
Because you saw he was having fun, you discovered what was making him run. And this is how it all got started, bought him more, being big-hearted. Until you found him hooked on it, if held from him, he would have a fit.
Like so many people we know, acteing just the same way though. He too was now addicted on that weed, and it became a very serious need he needed more of it every day. It’s all your fault, what can I say~!