There was a time when this country was downright mean and unwelcoming. Just ask any present-day activist or modern-day progressive liberal and they will tell you who, what, when and where. Maybe they will add how or why but there are no such guarantees.

Truth be told they will tell you all kinds of stories and some might even be partially true but in terms of accuracy the bullseye need have nothing to fear. Whatever the cause-de-jour may be or the most convenient target with which to emphasize some manner of associated point or opinion or position that is where you will find the majority of their mindshares. In mathematics you need at least two distinct points to define a line. Describe Point A and then just pick Point B and, voila, there you have it.

Let’s say it may be the so-called Native Americans. Or maybe it is the rise of slavery or the treatment of blacks after they were proclaimed emancipated, right up to this very day, in your very school, church, store, place of work, or even at your own doorstep. Perhaps it is the plight of the American Woman and all there endured since, during, and after- the unmarried or single mother being a specialized sub-category. Choice.  Could be the Jews but likely not- no one really likes them so no one complains much about their mistreatment except perhaps over that non-American problem in the mid-twentieth century. Might be the Muslims but likely not- they are revered and held in high regard and except in defense there is danger in referring to them lest their god be offended and you be destroyed. Maybe it is around sexual orientation or marital preference or lifestyle choice. How about the poor poor- they always need more more; and damn you if you even suggest they themselves help to provide any of that more. The urban situation; the suburban plantations; the rich left who somehow manage to stay poor and oppressed and slighted even when they remain as rich or more rich than the rich on the right…follow?; the kids, our kids, my kids, your kids, so mistreated and mishandled at home so that the state worker’s party school and czars must help correct and train properly; or maybe it is the unfortunate immigrants who did not come here illegally though they are listed as having no documents as required by law like the rest of us unfairly privileged folks who were unfairly born within the borders; the oppressed and misunderstood unions; card check; poor schools and poor teachers in direct proportion to how little actual schooling and teaching are done; healthcare for all; and maybe it’s just the cats and dogs and Mitt Romney, the bastard, who imprisoned and tortured his poor dog on the top of his vehicle; and, well, the list can be endless and is always being updated and revised per necessary convenience. They should create an app…easier to update.

Not on the list? White American males in general. Conservatives (not to be confused with Conservationists). Heterosexual couples, especially those who marry and stay married and give birth to decent kids. Folks who choose to live in lower-crime areas, especially the lily-white suburbs. People who demand the laws of these United States be upheld, including and especially when it comes to illegal immigration. Anyone who has made a decent fortune through their own labors. Actually, anyone who works, especially outside of a union cover. Successful schools, particularly the chartered ones. Lower taxes. International efforts to enhance security at home. Responsible spending by the government. Republicans. International terrorism. A pro-life position. Voter identification cards.

The Constitution.

Oh did I mention Christians or Christianity? Wonder which list that would be on.

And Catholics? Well, besides the fact that they continue to value the supposed pro-poor positions while ignoring the real pro-abortion-and-gay-relations-and-birth-control preachings of their Democratic party (please don’t ask because I have no idea why) they have had their time in Persecutory. Witness their being grouped in with blacks and Jews in the consideration of that Democratically chartered organization known as the KKK.

And then there were the Know-Nothings. They tried to have their say in regard to Catholics. Especially those here legally immigrated.

We could not today have the Know-Nothings. It would not be allowed.

But we do have the Know-Everythings. Just check out your federal government. You know, the one you perhaps helped to put in place by either voting for them or maybe not voting at all. Keep quiet and hear no evil and all will be well, yes?

Yes, all will be well indeed for these folks do indeed know everything. I had heard ad nauseam how brilliant was the man, the black man whose white side seems to have thankfully disappeared (until it is convenient to have it re-emerge), who today occupies, with his family, at our expense and with our so-voted permission, the White House. He and his cohorts and friends and staff and appointees and czars and most now associated with that government and, indeed, that party, are all considered to be smarter than we could ever possibly fathom or even imagine in all of our wildest peasantly plebeian dreams. We do not know but they sure as hell do.

They are the Know-Everythings.

They do know everything. And they do nothing.

Or do they?

Wise up America. Wise up and rise up and in the hypocritically non-racist reference associated with Teflon Uncle Joe- take your country back.

Al was a pretty smart dude. Him and Jimmy and Johnny thought about stuff, talked about stuff, debated and argued stuff, and then wound up writing all that stuff down. Maybe just for us. It was important to them. It was important to the ideas and beliefs that they held, sometimes only after changing their minds in favor of a better idea or opinion that further shaped those beliefs.

Men of principle; men of integrity; men and legends of time. Some might say genius and I would not argue that, not really having the credentials to do so. My genius resides in acknowledging theirs.

You might call them retro, you might call them old school, you might dismiss them for some reason totally uncoupled from their extreme knowledge of history (lessons learned), human behavior (keen observations), and their insightful approach (brilliance employed) to what could work in the realm of humankind and accomplish what had never been done before within that realm.

And once accomplished and once established then average folks like us might believe things could never be undone. Unless you know history, that is. Unless you know the typical directions of human behavior, that is. And unless you have the insight and the foresight to attempt to put in place something that might help to hold the inevitable and persistent wolf at bay.

But even all of that might not, in the final day of days, matter all that much. And they damn well knew it.

They knew it.

“On the other hand, it will be equally forgotten that the vigor of government is essential to the security of liberty; that, in the contemplation of a sound and well-informed judgment, their interests can never be separated; and that a dangerous ambition more often lurks behind the specious mask of zeal for the rights of the people than under the forbidding appearance of zeal for the firmness and efficiency of government. History will teach us that the former has been found a much more certain road to the introduction of despotism than the latter, and that of those men who have overturned the liberties of republics, the greatest number have begun their career by paying and obsequious court to the people, commencing demagogues and ending tyrants.”

Al was a pretty smart dude. He could see around corners and on the other side of hills and he tried to help us to do the same, to warn us of what might be there, but perhaps we are just no longer able to understand or, worse, maybe we just don’t believe or even care enough to heed the warnings.

Al was a pretty smart dude. Sure he got some things wrong, and he advocated much too much at times for the side of the larger power, federally speaking, but he was still a giant among men.

And sometimes not very well-liked.   He was shot in New Jersey and died in New York.

Sometimes genius is hard to figure out but the products of its workings are, well, genius. We would be smart enough, indeed, to heed.

I have a friend named Sammy.  Mickey really.  Well, I had a friend named Sammy-Mickey.  Sometimes I think that we all have had or might have had. 

“I chose the name Samujule when I was born” he once told me.  “But when my parents saw me they changed it to Michael and then Mickey no matter how hard I protested.  But that was because it was January.  If it had been October it should have been Bartholomew.”

“But you were born in June” I responded after a brief pause.

“Exactly” was what he said before he said no more. 

Now he always told me to call him Sammy so I did.  But when his parents were nearby, back when we were kids together a long time ago, I was told by them to call him Mickey.  Only once did he insist that I call him Bart and that was right before he went away to the special school in upper Michigan.  I forgot the name of the school but it was for his own benefit according to his parents.  It was early October.

I didn’t see Sammy-Mickey-Bart again much over the following years.  Not until he had returned from being away for almost seven years.  He didn’t seem to me all that different but his parents kept saying, before they died later on at least, how much better he was.

Sammy was always scared of things; many things.  Nine-legged spiders; green cars; low-flying planes; girls with braces who looked at him; morning light but just the rays that somehow managed to reflect and come back at him and him only from the west (just isn’t natural he would often say); successful failures; dogs with short tails; hammer heads; orange smoke; footprints in the snow; clocks that ran fast; unplugged television sets; and many, many more.  His list was long and his fears real.

I never really understood why so many people thought Sammy so strange.  Well, maybe I did sometimes.  I knew him for what seemed forever and while I would not say he was my best friend he was still a good friend.  He would often listen to me for hours and then only sometimes ask the most innocent of questions.  He never expected much from me other than to not yell at him or hurt him in any way.  As if I ever would or ever could.

“I’ll need you there at the end of all this” he told me on more than one occasion but I didn’t ask. 

Sammy was also always afraid of running out of things.  He was very scared that he would run out of excuses or options but he also feared running out of money, ink for his pen, lead for his mechanical pencil, toilet paper of course, pills for his head pain, space for his eraser collection, water for his favorite plant, and far too many other things to list.   His list was very long and his fears were very real.  To him.

His parents died when he was still relatively young but they left the small, neat house and a sizable trust fund to Mickey-Sammy and appointed me trustee.  I did the best I could to make his life comfortable and I visited as often as I could but I one day moved away and later got married and had a family.  I would go see Sammy once or twice a year and I think he was very disappointed but, unlike so many others in my life, he never let it show and never said a word about it. 

I don’t know if he ever realized how different he was.  To me not strange really but different.  He seemed to know what he knew and did not know what he did not know and, for him, that was always enough.  It served him well and lasted a lifetime.  He rarely smiled or laughed but he never cried and never yelled.  He just was.

I got the call one day from his doctor who told me Sammy was in a bad way and, this time, likely not to recover.  Even at that point none of the doctors he had ever seen- and there were many- were ever able to diagnose Sammy’s condition.  They tried drugs and they tried analysis and even twice tried surgery when he was younger and still in the care of his parents but nothing ever changed and Sammy just kept being Sammy.

Sammy hated human contact but now that I was at his bedside he seemed to know he was in trouble and he asked to hold my hand.  He squeezed it hard and then just kept a grip on it as he managed a deep and toiled breath.

“For too long I wondered about my trip to the ocean when I was very young.  Do you remember that?”

“I do.  You went with your parents to visit your grandparents somewhere in California I think.”

“Yes, it was there.  I remember being in the water but feeling scared.  Probably one of the first times I can remember being so afraid.  Later on when I was older I often wondered if any of the water that had washed over me had ever washed over any one else and if it had ever touched someone who was normal and went on to live a normal life” he said slowly, softly.

I looked at him but no words came.  I guess he understood what I could not put into words though.

“All of my life I have wondered about that.  And all of my life I have known that I would never know.  Never know” he said, closing his eyes as he turned away briefly.

Slowly and finally he turned back, looked again at me, and swallowed hard.

“You know, ” he said as his fading eyes seemed to just slightly moisten, “I really died my first time a long time ago when I first decided not to really live.  There at the sea.  This time around though I think it might the final time, the last time.  And I now know for certain that I will never know.  I think I’ve run out…of time.”

And with the slightest and to me the saddest of sighs he expired.  And it was almost at once as if he had, indeed, never even existed.

His only communicated wish in life for his death was to be cremated but he could never really bring himself to ever say it or write it quite that way.  He never said directly what was to be done with the ashes but, there, at his bedside, I realized that I finally knew.

In Charles Krauthammer’s recent book, “Things That Matter”, he makes a statement in his essay on Democratic Realism that hit a point with me: “It’s not one man; it is a condition” (p. 349).

You would need to read the essay itself to gain full contextual understanding but, in the shell of a nut, it is his view of the major threat we face today with what most honest folk call radical Islam.

I would extend this however to say that perhaps it has always been thus.  One man may cause or advance a condition but it is a condition nonetheless.  How else to be able to turn your head to an Auschwitz or the Great Purge?  It may have been borne of fear and not simple acquiescence but, like a virus that brings on the flu, it leads to a condition in eventuality.  And conditions can be changed albeit not just by the simple removal of the one man.

A virus needs a host cell to work its dastardly doings on that very same host.  Does this sound familiar to those among you with even the slightest knowledge of history?  No host, no problem.  Except, that is, for the virus.

And, yes, most often the host is unaware of what is happening but it still tries to fight it off to a degree.  At least initially and even later if it is not fully overcome.  It can happen, it does happen as most of the time we do have a good chance of getting well.

Still, the virus can spread and often does spread to many others.  It has to in order to survive.

The best defense then seems to be to make sure the host is healthy at the base levels.  And also for the host to do its level best to avoid situations and conditions conducive to the potential invader.  Eat your veggies, drink your milk, get sleep, exercise, wash your hands thoroughly and often, be careful of what you touch and who you hang out with in close quarters.  Most of us know this at a young age.

But sometimes it is easy to forget or maybe we just get lazy. Vigilance is important here.  Be ever vigilant and practice good hygiene.

Okay, enough of the medical analogy.  You’re all mostly smart so you probably get it.

What I wanted to get to here was the condition part.

What is our condition?  What is any one person’s or one country’s condition?  I believe condition is what matters most for without it I don’t think that one man could do much damage.

That is unless he is trying to change that condition and make it more conducive to the infection.

Who could possibly want to do something like that?  Do you know anyone like that?

I suppose that history is full of such examples and I suppose that some were successful and some were not.

It was the condition that mattered most.

I wonder when that expression was first employed.  Rhetorical question unless I change my mind.  I’ll get back to you on that.

You see it on the playground all the time.  Of course this is only in places where kids are still allowed to use that intrinsically dangerous area of unhealthy childhood social interactivities.  It breeds inequality, yes I know the tune.

During a game of tag a kid tugs another for some reason.  And then he does it again.  The tugged kid responds by yanking on the tugging kid.  Hard.  Advantage to the reactor.  Big advantage.

In another game a big bully of a kid shoves a smaller kid.  Hard.  The smaller kid reacts sometime later when, in a crowd where he thinks he is safe, he nudges the bigger kid.  Maybe it is an attempt at a shove but it still results in what appears to be little more than a nudge.  Not accomplishing what he intended the smaller kid nudges again but this time the bully of a kid notices and responds with another shove that puts the smaller kid on the ground.  Others look on but the smaller kid’s friends are too scared to act and the bully’s mates simply realize this is playground business as usual and they really don’t have any sympathy for the smaller kid anyway.  Advantage to the bully.  Huge advantage.

And so it goes.

The tug and nudge are often nothing more than friendly messages meant to convey something of some importance.  They are often met with the yank and the shove which are likewise meant as messages although not ones meant kindly in nature.  Either may precede the other but the tug and nudge are never very effective responses to the yank and the shove.  But that is all that some kids are willing, or able, or even brave enough to do.  They may be the proper moral victors but the others, the yankers and shovers rule the playground.  It has always been thus, yes?

Which are you in your life?  Do you do either, neither, or both?  Which is more effective and why?

Seems to me that over the last, oh, century or so, the progressives, the socialists, the radical liberals, and, dare I even utter, the communists have been the yankers and shovers.  Those on the other side, the conservatives, the constitutionalists, the originalists, the, in my opinion, true patriots merely respond and even do so during the times that they are in power, the times when many more on the playground are on their side, with just a nudge or tug or even two.   And even those hesitatingly applied.

It is well known that it takes many tugs to equal a yank and an equal number of nudges to counter a shove.  Did you know that?

I have a fear that we have already been yanked and shoved so far off of our positions that tugs and nudges are no longer sufficient or even proper responses.  It’s time to reclaim our playground and use it in the ways originally intended.  Stronger yanks and more powerful pushes are now necessary.  We must stand our ground with honor and with power.  We must stand our ground with conviction and with purpose.  We must stand our ground united.

And then, after we have stood our ground, we need to reclaim the ground we have been losing for far too long a time.

Ah, Conference Championship football weekend in America.  There are likely a lot of folks hurting in the head and sporting heart today.  Good thing it’s a holiday.

There are also those who are hurting in their heads but are quite happy in their sporting hearts.  They are the lucky ones today.

I had no skin in this game so just sat back and watched.

Did you see the games?  What did you think of the on-field behavior of the players?  What did you think of any of the post-game stuff?  Do you think all of that is representative of the country and the people we are becoming or have even already become?  I’m not passing judgment here, just simply asking what you think. 

So, what do you think?

I know what I think but it’s really not that important what I think except maybe to me and my family.  I know that even if my kids could make it to the professional level, no matter the reward, I really don’t think I would want them to become that type of person that all too often exists there.  No I really don’t.  No matter the sport really.

That sort of success just doesn’t seem worth it in the end to me.  I’m sure there are exceptions but they don’t often enough seem to be very abundant or even evident. 

I think I remember one high-profile professional athlete, basketball player I believe, who informed all of us that he shouldn’t have to be a role model for our kids, that no athlete should have to be, that it should be the parents.  At the time I kind of got it and kind of agreed but now I want to ask why he shouldn’t have been that as part of the payback for all that he had received; it wasn’t just him and his hard work that got him to where he got to- heck, Obama even told us that- it was much, much more.  So why not give back, even if by a sense of duty if not choice? 

Ah, too much responsibility, too much work, is that it?  And, besides, with no parents in the home anymore or those who are there not very plugged in or engaged, who fills the void then Charles?  Who?  (Ooops, I said his name.  Sorry Charlie!)

So if my kid could pursue professional sports and had no one to look up to on the way there and no sense of paying any of it back once he got there himself then why would it seem the right thing for him to chase after?  Oh, I get it, the money, the fame.  Or maybe it’s the respect that has always been due not because of the person that led to the athlete but rather the athlete that was born from the desire.  He or she are just better and much more deserving of so many things the rest of us are not.  Is that it?

Now I get it. 

But I still wouldn’t want my kids to pursue such a path.  I still believe in the beauty of the human condition and spirit as evidenced by the many heroes AND positive role models who do still exist.  This note is for you all.  I want to thank you very much and ask you to please keep it up, to please keep doing what you do and helping our young folks to aspire to good places in this world, in their lives.  You might just be a simple mom or dad who wants to see your child do right and that is often more than enough and much harder to get accomplished than anyone who hasn’t done it or tried it can imagine. 

For my part I will still watch my kids play sports and root them and their teammates on.  I will be there no matter what.  I will make sure that they study and do their homework and respect their teachers and classmates.  I will do all that I can to help them and to be that tiny little bit of a positive role model that, when summed along with the other tiny little bits in the spectrum across their daily lives, might just be enough to overcome the high-profilers who manage to show them an entirely different and undesirable way.  Back off and leave my kids alone.

And congrats to the fans and teams who were victorious.  In America, you rule.

To the losers well, maybe it was just that this time your teams weren’t good enough this time, in that game, and that sucks but maybe it’s really okay.  Or will be better in a few days at least.  At least the hangover will go away.

In either case just be careful who you let your children hang with; there are a lot of role models out there, whether they want to admit it or accept it or not.

When did things get so easy for some and come at the expense of others? 

When I was young I was taught, as was every other kid I knew, that there were things that had to be done; so we did them.  We were also told that there were things that could be done; so if we had time and the inclination we did those too.  After all the things that had to be done and all the things that could be done were done there then remained things that might be done.  These were the things that existed as goals, as dreams.

I was raised in a lower-middle class family in the middle of a middle-class neighborhood (they weren’t called communities so much then- well maybe the banks were) so dreams were not in abundance but they did exist.  You just had to go find them.  And once you found them you had to then go after them.

When I was young my mother died.  She died of after a five year battle with cancer.  The dreams I was pursuing in music (piano), sports (mostly baseball at that time), Scouts, art (I was trying at least) and many other areas were suddenly put on hold or died right along with her.  I don’t really blame this on anything, it just happened. Maybe I could have managed to overcome the challenges then placed before me so that I could continue to pursue my young and simple dreams but my dad worked a lot and things just sort of floated away from me.  I was just eleven and had to learn all about taking care of myself and doing what was necessary for the family. 

I learned to get myself ready for school; I learned to cook (a little at least); I learned how to iron clothes and do laundry; I learned how to do homework without much help at home; I learned how to come home to an empty house in a changing neighborhood and not be too scared.

I never really dreamed about becoming an engineer but I became one nonetheless.  Since I had managed to get good grades in high school I managed to get some scholarship money and that, coupled with working and some financial aid, allowed me to pursue a degree in electrical engineering.

From there I managed to survive some bad decisions and a less-than-exemplary lifestyle and gain control of myself and my financial well-being.  I finally purchased a house, got married, had kids, and have a wonderful family.  I’m not sure that I am ready for retirement having recently lost my job but I am much more ready than I would have been if I had not faced and overcome many challenges along the way.

My challenges were nothing in comparison to some folks of course.  My success is not all that unique or amazing.  But, in sum, the things that I have done have left me perhaps in the “top 10-15%” and I would be a 1%er if I could and I would try not to be labeled one of the 99%ers if I could in any way avoid being dolloped into that nomenclature. 

That is the way it should be.  Do what needs to be done and do what you can.  After all that then do what you might and be what you would dream to be.

And then, don’t blame yourself or your situation on someone or something else.  Throw off the shackles, get the sheet off your face, smell the damn coffee, see the light of day, stop your whining, quit expecting something for nothing, and get on with becoming somebody.  Take a dream and pursue it; set a goal and achieve it; face your challenges, face life, and overcome them. 

Respect yourself.  Respect yourself.

Oh yeah, my biggest dream outside of having a wonderful family?  To write and become a writer.  That’s something I never seriously pursued and therefore never had the chance to achieve but I pray that there is still enough time for me.  At least I have started and I can respect that.

What is it that Mr. Berra supposedly uttered once upon a time in the land of the Imperial Yankee?

Oh yeah:  “it ain’t over til it’s over”.

Wise man Yogi.  Smart bear too.

Some things are fairly certain in baseball.  You usually have either 24 or 27 outs in which to complete the game and claim victory or defeat.  Sometimes it’s less if the weather does not cooperate but then it might only be suspended or postponed and not completed.  Sometimes it’s more as needed until it is over- when it’s over.  And only the home guy can end it with one swing.

You can be up by a little or a lot- down by the same or different measures.  It might be close and nip and tuck.  If it’s early in the game then there is time to come back.  There is also time to blow a big lead.  Even in a single inning.

And while six outs define an official full inning by the rules it only provides the boundaries and does nothing to describe all that happens within.  That is why we play, why we coach, why we watch.

Like baseball other sports can end in a tie in regulation but almost all have a mechanism to extend the playing time and offer a chance to get things finally decided.  Hockey shootouts aside (does anyone like those damn things?) there is the inescapable element of a ticking clock that will, in the end, figure large in the final outcome.   If you are down, if you are behind, then time can indeed run out on you.

But consider a game of pure and beautiful sport-yes, that is baseball you cheeseheads- and a seemingly endless and cloudless and warm day on which to play it, under the sun or under the lights.  Ah, there is always hope to win right up until that last out is recorded or the home guy brings in the winner.

Two out rally?  You betcha!

Walk-off homerun?  Watch it soar and hear the roar.

A fastball up in the zone, a diving shortstop on a hot liner, a quick-handed corner man at third, a dig at first, a leaping center-fielder to maybe bring it back in from over the fence…

A.J. Pierzynksi deciding to just take off after a wagging strike three.

The possibilities are endless.

And even when you are up, in the same inning you may find yourself down yet again.  But you’re the home guy and the final say may be yours.

Who knows the score of the game when it comes to Mother Earth or even what inning it is?  Could the game be called because of rain?  Sure, I suppose that it could and there are many out there who, when they see the clouds forming, head swiftly for the concourse or even the exit.  But maybe, just maybe the storm blows over or the tarp gets down in time and the rain is not enough to wash things out…and then the game goes on.  And where are you?

We think I think that we know the score where our country is concerned.  There have been a lot of good pitches and missed strikes, successful sacrifices and caught foul pops, swiped bases and smooth pickoffs, successful hit and runs, Splendid Splinters and Babes and Hammerin Hanks and Say Hey Kids and Micks and Caseys and Iron Mans and Denkingers and Buckners and Joyces and Bartmans and Black Sox and long, high balls that looked like they may never come down.

There is always hope, another chance to bring that man on second home and claim final victory.  We just have to keep making sure we have more guys crossing the plate than they do.  Final raps are nice too.

In the end, that’s how you win.  Big ball or small ball, the final score on the board is what matters.

And it ain’t over til it’s over.

I knew an accountant who worked for a large corporation, the same one that I did.  I was in engineering not accounting.  Engineering management actually so I was responsible for more than just circuits, modules, assemblies, and tech pubs.

Somewhere along the line it had become common practice to obscure some of the real costs associated with the manufacturing of a product in manners such as offering rebates for larger purchase commitments or the shifting of actual purchase orders from one quarter to another.  You would need to understand the nature of the learning curve of a new product or line of products to understand how this might be construed as an attempt to make the finances of a new product launch, and by association, the financial viability and longevity of an organization within a corporation if not the corporation itself, appear better than they actually were, and more worthy of future investment.

I called out a specific practice that I saw as somewhat questionable and, in fact, I flatly refused to execute my particular part of this practice.  I alerted the accountant who noted my concerns and thanked me for my inputs.  Subsequently and in rather short order the responsibility for my particular part of this process was given to another manager and I was re-assigned to a lesser, more mature product line pretty much without any supporting reason.  The practice was completed and the accountant seemed to disappear from existence.  The new manager was promoted within a year while I watched from a distance, one foot already out the door.

Such is life.  Such is the way we all make a living sometimes.

When you went to the manager of your son’s travel soccer team not to talk about how your son was doing or how you might lend a hand to help out the team but rather to complain about why a seemingly sub-standard player was added to the roster for this year (“our league standing might be compromised!”) who or what made you do this?  Did you ever have any regrets later on when additional parents joined in your behind-the-back protest and the coach relented by cutting back on the questioned player’s field time?  Did the coach have any reservations or regrets in doing what he did?  And, just for the sake of my own interest, do you know how the benched player felt after having giving his all to wind up receiving so little in return for his hard and honest efforts?  Did it matter that he was just 10 years old and loved to play soccer more than just about anything in his troubled life?  Didn’t think so.

When you won that state congressional seat and then was put to task in regard to that right-to-work bill and ignored the majority opinion of your constituents, the majority opinion of the union workers, and your own best judgment to align your vote with the position of the union leadership just so you could best guarantee your own re-election bid did it challenge your moral basis in the least?  When three companies later left the state and threw off well over 1300 jobs in the process did you think about the unemployed or were those votes fairly insignificant at that time?

When you turned your head as the Nazis marched those ghetto Jews into the work camps did you wonder how you could simply pretend to not know their inevitable fates?  Is that when you stopped believing in a higher power that would one day sit in judgment of you?  Did a pall of shame ever descent upon you later on in life or did you just continue to close your eyes and your memory and just hope for the best?

Did you ever keep money or something else of value that you knew belonged to someone else instead of trying to find the true owner?  Did you try to explain this to your kids?

Was it okay that your daughter’s softball team won the league championship by cheating?  Was it made okay by the fact that everyone on your side, parents and players and coaches alike, all knew and all kept quiet- and then celebrated the big victory at a local pizza parlor and pub?  Not the means, just the end.  Clean that trophy off nicely and place it high in a prominent shelf along with all the others.

Did you ever change into someone you swore that you never would and then just pass it off as part of growing up and getting what is yours?  Was it okay because everyone does it?

When was the last time you did something that was of a high moral or ethical caliber?  Something that you didn’t have to broadcast to the world, just something that was thoroughly and silently the absolute right thing to do.  How did that make you feel?  Did your kids know or see it or even understand it?  How did they feel?

Over time it seems okay to drop the price of things as they become easier to obtain.  Could be a new toy, could be a commodity, could be a larger flat panel TV.  Could also be me, could also be you.  We’ve become pretty easy to obtain.

Don’t make yourself a sale item.  Life is too short and integrity too rare and precious.

If two cities existed with one populated by people just like what you wanted to be and the other by people just like what you have become which one would you rather live in today?

It’s just not easy to repair a bridge with broken pilings driven into loose bedrock.