Thursday, January 31, 2013

Worth Noting


Have you ever walked out of the theater after watching a movie and felt absolutely invincible? I can’t speak for everyone and say that everyone has but I know that I have and from talking to Laura, I know she has also. I’m guessing that others have felt that way as well. It is an interesting feeling; somewhat similar to how I felt when I was driving from our home in New Mexico to the hospital in Farmington when Amena was three days old. It is somewhat similar to how I feel after experiencing or witnessing a birth or a death. You want to shout out to the world to witness what you have just witnessed; to become a better person because of what has just happened.

In two days we will be at eighteen months since Daniel’s death. I do not know why I am feeling it so much now but I am. I want to stand up and shout to the world. “Look at my boy! Look at his life! Behold the wonderful example he was. Take note!” Surely Daniel is one of the Great Ones.

Realistically, I know that there have been many multitudes of people born into this world and about as many leave it through death. The whole world cannot stop to take note of each and every birth and each and every death because they both surround us. Birth and death are both fairly common, everyday occurrences. According to Wikipedia, which I realize isn’t the most accurate source in the world, there are on average 353,015 babies born each day. That is about 14,709 each hour or 245 each minute. A lot. It seems a bit harder to figure out how many die each day but the number appears to be over 150,000. That is more than 6,000 each hour or 104 each minute. A lot.

However, to each of us individually, physical birth happens but once and a final physical death occurs but once. Surely that is worth noting.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Real Life


You're sound asleep when you hear a thump outside your bedroom door. Half-awake, and nearly paralyzed with fear, you hear muffled whispers.

At least two people have broken into your house and are moving your way. With your heart pumping, you reach down beside your bed and pick up your shotgun. You rack a shell into the chamber, then inch toward the door and open it...

In the darkness, you make out two shadows. One holds something that looks like a crowbar.  When the intruder brandishes it as if to strike, you raise the shotgun and fire. The blast knocks both thugs to the floor. One writhes and screams while the second man crawls to the front door and lurches outside. As you pick up the telephone to call police, you know you're in trouble because in your country, most guns were outlawed years before, and the few that are privately owned are so stringently regulated as to make them useless. Yours was never registered. The Police arrive and inform you that the second burglar has died. They arrest you for First Degree Murder and Illegal Possession of a Firearm.

When you talk to your attorney, he tells you not to worry: authorities will probably plea the case down to manslaughter. "What kind of sentence will I get?" you ask. "Only ten-to-twelve years," he replies, as if that's nothing. "Behave yourself, and you'll be out in seven."

The next day, the shooting is the lead story in the local newspaper. Somehow, you're portrayed as an eccentric vigilante while the two men you shot are represented as choirboys. Their friends and relatives can't find an unkind word to say about them. Buried deep down in the article, authorities acknowledge that both "victims" have been arrested numerous times.

But the next day's headline says it all: "Lovable Rogue Son Didn't Deserve to Die." The thieves have been transformed from career criminals into Robin Hood-type pranksters. As the days wear on, the story takes wings. The national media picks it up, then the international media. The surviving burglar has become a folk hero. Your attorney says the thief is preparing to sue you, and he'll probably win. The media publishes reports that your home has been burglarized several times in the past and that you've been critical of local police for their lack of effort in apprehending the suspects. After the last break-in, you told your neighbor that you would be prepared next time. The District Attorney uses this to allege that you were lying in wait for the burglars.

A few months later, you go to trial. The charges haven't been reduced, as your lawyer had so confidently predicted. When you take the stand, your anger at the injustice of it all works against you. Prosecutors paint a picture of you as a mean, vengeful man. It doesn't take long for the jury to convict you of all charges.  The judge sentences you to life in prison.

This case really happened!

On August 22, 1999, Tony Martin of Emneth, Norfolk, England, killed one burglar and wounded a second.

In April, 2000, he was convicted and is now serving a life term.

How did it become a crime to defend one's own life in the once great British Empire? It started with the Pistols Act of 1903. This seemingly reasonable law forbade selling pistols to minors or felons and established that handgun sales were to be made only to those who had a license.

The Firearms Act of 1920 expanded licensing to include not only handguns but all firearms except shotguns. Later laws passed in 1953 and 1967 outlawed the carrying of any weapon by private citizens and mandated the registration of all shotguns. Momentum for total handgun confiscation began in earnest after the Hungerford mass shooting in 1987. Michael Ryan, a mentally disturbed man with a Kalashnikov rifle, walked down the street shooting everyone he saw. When the smoke cleared, 17 people were dead. The British public, already de-sensitized by eighty years of "gun control," demanded even tougher restrictions. (The seizure of all privately owned handguns was the objective even though Ryan used a rifle.)

Nine years later, at Dunblane, Scotland, Thomas Hamilton used a semi-automatic weapon to murder 16 children and a teacher at a public school.

For many years, the media had portrayed all gun owners as mentally unstable, or worse, criminals. Now the press had a real kook with which to beat up law-abiding gun owners.

Day after day, week after week, the media gave up all pretense of objectivity and demanded a total ban on all handguns. The Dunblane Inquiry, a few months later, sealed the fate of the few side arms still owned by private citizens.

During the years in which the British government incrementally took away most gun rights, the notion that a citizen had the right to armed self-defense came to be seen as vigilantism. Authorities refused to grant gun licenses to people who were threatened, claiming that self-defense was no longer considered a reason to own a gun. Citizens who shot burglars or robbers or rapists were charged while the real criminals were released.

Indeed, after the Martin shooting, a police spokesman was quoted as saying, "We cannot have people take the law into their own hands."

By the way all of Tony Martin's neighbors have been robbed numerous times, and several elderly people were severely injured in beatings by young thugs who had no fear of the consequences. Martin himself, a collector of antiques, had seen most of his collection trashed or stolen by burglars.

When the Dunblane Inquiry ended, citizens who owned handguns were given three months to turn them over to local authorities. Being good British subjects, most people obeyed the law. The few who didn't were visited by police and threatened with ten-year prison sentences if they didn't comply. Police later bragged that they'd taken nearly 200,000 handguns from private citizens.

How did the authorities know who had handguns? The guns had been registered and licensed.

Kind of like cars. Sound familiar?

WAKE UP AMERICA!

THIS IS WHY OUR FOUNDING FATHERS PUT THE SECOND AMENDMENT IN OUR CONSTITUTION.

"...It does not require a majority to prevail, but rather an irate, tireless minority keen to set brush fires in people's minds…”

--Samuel Adams

Friday, January 25, 2013

I Have a Dream

When I was growing up, I thought it was really cool that I was born on Martin Luther King, Jr.'s, birthday. I still think it is cool.

Cedric brought home yesterday a paper he did at school with a simply drawing of Martin Luther King, Jr., and the title, "I Have a Dream."

For school, Cedric said, "My dream for school is that people in our school who are bullies will be better people."

For family, he wrote, "My dream for my family is to have my mom to be a midwife because she wants to be a midwife and for us to be better people [italics added]."

For himself, "I hope to be in the military because I want to keep America a free country and I want to experience being a policeman if I can't join the military."

Having dreams is so important. I have great swellings of pride in my children when I read things like this that they have written because I know there is hope for the future as long as there are children who have such unselfish dreams.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Making Mint Lip Balm

I've been thinking about  making lip balm for quite some time because we've been out and it's been difficult finding any to use. So difficult that Laura and Joanna gave up and actually bought some. Yikes! So, being in a soapmaking mood, I thought I'd make some. Once I had almost everything assembled and was searching for the tubes, I remembered. . . I needed to get more! OH MY GOODNESS!!! So, being the resourceful person I am, I got out the next best thing--lotion stick tubes. They work just fine. However, rather than having in the neighborhood of 45 0.15 oz tubes, I have six less-than-2-ounce-but-more-than-one-ounce tubes. Whatever works, I guess.
Just poured.

Just beginning to get solid at the bottom.

Mostly solid.

Completely solid.
Pretty cool, eh?
I just love this stuff!

Making CHOB (Creamy Honey Oat Bars)

The chunks. This has honey and oats in it.

And here it is cut into slabs.

And then square logs.

And then chunks.

And then thrown into a colander to wait until needed.

This is the coconut oil in the bottom of my 5-gallon bucket.
It's about time to get more.

And this is the palm oil in it's bucket.
Almost time for more of it as well.

The coconut and palm oils melting together.
The melted is mostly palm and the coconut is slowly getting there.

Soybean oil added and melting in.
Next the olive oil is added.
No pictures of that though.

Sodium hydroxide solution after the goat milk was added.
It likes to separate, as you can plainly see.
Pretty, though, eh?

At trace.
Kind of like cooked pudding when it's ready to pour into bowls.

Stirring in the chunks.

Poured.

Insulated.

Cedric's Eagle

Cedric drew the original of this eagle a couple of years ago at scouts. Just last week he redid it and added background. Now it needs a frame.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Sweaters--Star Wars Style

My mother has been knitting off her little fingers and this is part of the result:

Cedric, Seth and Joseph.

Cedric has R2D2. He got to pick the colors for the light sabers.

Seth has Storm Trooper heads.

Joseph finally decided to smile and has Tie Fighters.
Pretty darn cool, eh?
 
There are some hats and mittens as well, but they would have taken too much effort to find for pictures and one Mr. Tie Fighter was pretty crabby already. We'll aim for getting pictures of them posted . . . . soonish.