Is our perception of the way we spend time distorted?
Men can’t multi-task. I believe it. But I don’t believe in the underlying assertion embedded in that statement: that women can.
Nobody can! Humans can only think about one thing at a time. Maybe dolphins are different, I don’t know.
Oh, I suppose that in our modern world, I can accomplish about a dozen things at once. I can Continue Reading…
As I mentioned in Monday’s post, I’ve been greatly blessed in the last few weeks in unexpected ways. One of those is that I caught first a cold and then the flu from my grandson while I was helping his mommy recover from having his new baby sister. But it was a blessing.
A blessing to feel like roadkill? But it was.
It prevented me from writing on my blog. I was getting frustrated by the political machinations in this country. I’m upset that the best and brightest and most (I believe) righteous and capable men are not in first place in the Republican race but have taken turns as second. (see how easily I slip into political angst?)
But I want to center my mind on Jesus. I had been feeling a dearth of Christmas spirit. There wasn’t any magic in planning and preparing gifts for my family. I used my visiting grandkids as an excuse for why I didn’t put up my tree or decorate my house like I usually do the day after Thanksgiving. Privately, I urged Jeff to let me send the kids each a check and sneak away on a cruise with me and skip Christmas all together. (I’m not kidding!)
After having a houseful of company over the Thanksgiving holiday and going right back to Tricia’s for the following week, chores had piled up at home. I spent dawn until dusk on Saturday morning catching up on chores and helping Jeff get started taking care of damage from the ice storm.
But Jeff put on the Christmas music and it started kneading my heart into a softer form.
FOR unto us a child is born! Unto us a son is given and the government shall be upon his sho-oo- oo-oo-oulders! And his name shall be called Wonderful! Counselor! The Mighty God! The Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace!
The Prince of Peace!
Saturday night, I woke up nauseated and feverish.
There’s nothing so humbling as feeling horrible. Nothing stirs compassion for the chronically ill as being ill yourself. Jeff waited on me with great tenderness and solicitation and that is also humbling and draws out my heart with love to him.
Sunday morning, I asked Jeff to give me a blessing. Many’s the time I’ve felt special comfort and inspiration from him giving me blessings. Once the inspiration I received as a result of the words he used in a priesthood blessing of infant Daniel, allowed me to save Daniel’s life.
I realized that I deserved to be sick because I knew my grandson was sick but I ate the cheerios from his high chair tray any way. When I choose foolishly, I will receive the consequences, regardless of my faith.
So I suffered through it. and when I woke Monday feeling better and then even better yesterday, I felt SO GRATEFUL for my habitual good health! I was reminded how miserable illness is and that I want to be kind and helpful to the sick when I have opportunity.
So I want to tell you something I know.
Jesus is indeed the Prince of Peace. His peace is whole. Complete. It is the culmination of compassion, love, understanding, knowledge, power over evil and victory over sin.
Peace is wholeness. There is no fracture or disturbance, no anger or temper with the Prince of Peace. There are only people and situations that run opposite to his nature of ultimate and complete peace. He stands in counterpoint to evil and sin and hate.
In the Book of Mormon, when the Resurrected Lord visits the Nephites on the American continent, he tells that that “contention is of the devil and whoso has the spirit of contention is not of me, but is of the devil.”
He meant for this to be used as a test. It’s a way for us to know if a person or media or an organization is of The Prince of Peace or of the devil. Do they stir up contention and hatred? Do they attempt to humiliate or embarrass or alienate? Or do they love, unite, cause to rejoice, encourage compassion, and draw us closer to our loving Heavenly Father?
If something or someone causes you to rejoice in Christ, you can know that it comes from God. When you feel that peace which surpasseth understanding, you know that it is of The Wonderful Counselor, The Prince of Peace.
Peace, be still, Be still and know that I am God.
I have been abundantly blessed in the last few weeks and in very unexpected ways.
Tricia had her baby girl. Because of Tricia’s age, a thorough ultrasound of the baby was done very early on. It gave bad news. They said the left kidney was either absent or formed in her pelvic area and filled with a cyst. Repeated ultrasounds of the baby confirmed the original diagnosis.
Of course the family joined in prayer for the baby and her safe delivery and a long and happy life.
A spiritual experience changed her momma’s mind about her name. They had planned to name her something traditional with a whimsical twist. After the experience, the whimsical twist was dropped and the middle name was changed. When Tricia looked up the middle name’s meaning, (revealed to her in the experience), she found it meant “bringer of light” or “light-filled.”
(I won’t give the name since this blog is public and safety advisers say not to give info about kids.)
After an arduous delivery, (her head was cocked) and a little trouble with jaundice and blood sugar issues, they got to stage of doing an ultra-sound.
Right kidney, fine. Left kidney, fine. Cyst? Near the bladder. At first they thought it might be a “redundant” bladder. How great is that? A woman with two bladders? But as my sister-in-law Lynda pointed out, they would probably both leak. An additional ultrasound shows that the cyst is not attached to any organ, nor is it positive mutation(extra bladder). She’s peeing and pooping with gusto and after a seemingly painless clip of a tongue-tie, she’s nursing like a champ.
She’s a calm, cheerful little Miss, who gave her first alert smiles (as witnessed by her mommy) to her Grandma Stephenson at 10 days old. The picture is NOT an alert smile, lest you accuse me of not knowing the difference.
. 
Welcome to grandchild number 12!
I don’t know exactly why my daughter-in-law, Kelsi’s breathtaking videos make me so antsy. Is it the distant childhood lost that I ache for or is it a future full of possibilities? Perhaps it’s a combination of both.
Some of the scenes make me gasp in their danger.
I remember watching 5-year-old Brian climb a 50 foot pine tree shortly after we moved to Colorado. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched the flash of his red sweatshirt moving up that tree.
“This is as high as I can go!” he called. “The branches get too skinny higher up.” He was sitting about 3 feet from the top of the swaying tree.
“What can you see from up there?” I called.
“I can see Pikes Peak!”
“Can you see the Air Force Academy?”
“No. Just forest.”
Just then Jeff came home from work. He kissed me on the front porch. “Look at that little red squirrel up in that tree,” I pointed.
He gasped.
“Don’t yell at him. He’s proud that he got up so high. If you act scared, it might scare him.”
“Look at how that tree is swaying. Do you think he’s okay?”
“His instincts tell him to hang on.”
“Be careful up there,” Jeff called. “Maybe you’d better come down now. It’s almost time for dinner.”
Secretly, I envied him his perch at the top of that pine tree. He’d have pitch on his clothes and his hands, and he have the fresh, piney smell in his hair. He may have a scrape or two. I was too pregnant, to dignified, too old I thought.
I feel an upswell of the joy for their revel in the beauty and wonder of this earth.
Brian and Kelsi spent last summer as tour guides in Juneau Alaska. Brian has a degree in Political Science and a minor in geography. Kelsi has a degree in anthropology. They are oriented to walking on the wild side. Sometimes embracing the impractical.
And I’m realizing something about growing old. I have less to lose now. Now that there are no little children clinging to my leg asking if it’s dinner time, I empathize more with Mary than with Martha of Jesus’ hosts.
Maybe just now, I’m old enough to appreciate the vastness and splendor of nature.
Here. Revel with us!
I’ve had several requests for the recipes we used from the Freedmen Bureau Project Dinner. These proportions feed about 40 healthy appetites if you use the whole menu. You’ll probably have some leftovers.
Menu:
Pulled chicken and/or pork(15 pounds)
cheesy potatoes
fruity coleslaw with homemade poppyseed dressing
green beans
sweet Johnnie Cake (corn bread)
cake for dessert
Countrytime lemonade or water to drink
This is Pulled chicken. Pork is darker.
Pulled Pork or chicken:
1 28 oz can crushed tomatoes
1 cup white sugar
1/2 cup liquid smoke
2 Tablespoons garlic powder
2 Tablespoons onion powder
1/2 cup soy sauce OR 2 Tablespoons salt
1/2 cup dill pickle juice or cider vinegar if you don’t have dill pickle juice
mix sauce together in 12 quart pressure cooker (see adjustments below)
add 15 pounds of boneless pork loin cut into approx. 1 lb chunks or boneless, skinless chicken breasts
May be doubled or halved depending on the size of pressure cooker or crowd
Add meat and make sure that each piece is fully doused in the sauce.
Pressure cook at 15 pounds of pressure, one hour for pork, 45 minutes for chicken breasts. There’s no need to adjust cooking time for smaller or greater amounts because it will take longer or shorter for the pressure cooker to reach pressure for more meat or less meat.
When the meat is done, you’ll find that there seems to be a LOT of liquid. But as you shred the meat with two forks, the shredded meat will absorb the flavorful sauce and you’ll be surprised how much of it is incorporated. With the above recipe, there was little standing liquid when I was done shredding and added the meat back into the sauce.
Serve with ketchup or barbeque sauce, as desired.
We served both chicken and pork at the dinner for about 100, and the pork was twice as popular as the chicken. I transported the meat in the pressure cookers and shredded it close to serving time.
Cheesy potatoes for a crowd
Pressure cook 10 pounds of red potatoes in their skins (ten pounds of pressure 15 minutes) Cut larger than fist sized potatoes in half. Cut out any ugly spots before cooking.
Saute’ two pounds of chopped onion (about 4 large) in a little oil
Optional: add 1 pound of chopped ham or a cup of cooked, crumbled bacon to the onions. I didn’t for the FBP dinner, but it makes the potatoes a main dish instead of a side dish).
Remove about half the potato skins after cooking (more if you object to the texture) slice into thick 3/4 inch slices.
Place in a large roaster or foil pan.
sauce: Mix together in large bowl,
two cans cream of chicken soup
two soup cans of milk (about 2 1/2 cups)
2 cups nacho/type cheese sauce (I portioned up a big #10 can from Sams.)
1 1/2 cups sour cream, (lite varieties are good, too)
Mix well, pour over potatoes and onions, Mix well until potatoes are coated.
Smooth potatoes somewhat in roaster,
Top with 1 pound shredded sharp cheddar cheese,
Heat through (90 minutes in 350 oven) (it takes a long time with such a big volume. Smaller volumes can be microwaved. Since all ingredients are cooked, you really only need to heat it.
Fruity coleslaw with homemade poppyseed dressing
This is a pretty, confetti-like salad
1 large bag (2 pounds) prepared coleslaw (shredded green cabbages and carrots)
1/2 cup finely chopped green onion
4 large red gala (or other sweet-tart, thin-skinned apples) cored and coarsely diced with skins on.
2 cups dried cranberries (craisins)
DRESSING:
2/3 cup Miracle Whip
3 Tablespoons vegetable oil
1/2 cup sugar
1 Tablespoon apple cider vinegar
2 Tablespoons lemon juice or juice of one lemon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon poppy seeds
Mix dressing well and chill until serving
Dress coleslaw just before serving so cranberries don’t swell!
Cheaters Corn Bread
Two yellow cake mixes,
6 eggs
3 cups water
1 cup oil
3 cups corn meal
1 cup of flour, ( I sometimes use whole wheat)
2 teaspoons of baking powder
2 teaspoons vanilla
Mix together well
Spray 3 9×11 pans or approximately similar-area pans Distribute batter evenly, bake at 350 for 35 minutes. (or until toothpick inserted into center comes out dry)
Top with honey butter while warm if desired. (This is how we served it) Almost nobody added butter
Green Beans
One #10 can of green beans heated through
Drain off liquid
Mix in a handful of crumbled, cooked bacon
Toffee (no we didn’t serve this at the FBP dinner, but I’ve had enough requests for the recipe lately, I’d figured I’d include it)
Here’s my favorite recipe/method for toffee.
In a 12 inch CAST IRON skillet or pot, stir together
1 cup butter (not margarine)
1 1/4 cups white sugar
1/2 cup sliced or slivered almonds
Stir with metal spatula until deep golden brown. Remove from heat and add 1 teaspoon of vanilla (I love the Danncy brand Mexican vanilla for its coconutty undertone. I order it on ebay) Pour onto foil lined cookie sheet. Sprinkle with
semi-sweet chocolate chips, (about 10 oz).
When melted, spread evenly and sprinkle with
chopped or sliced toasted almonds.
Cool in fridge (if you’re in a hurry) and break into pieces. Toffee can be ready to package about 40 minutes from starting if you refrigerate it to set the chocolate.
Chocolate or Lemon Bundt cake 12 servings per cake.
We bought these at Sam’s for convenience. But if we’d used a bigger team in the preparation, we’d use mixes. For 40 people, three mixes would be plenty. The recipe on the cake mix box for bundt cake is really good, but it’s easier to use flat style cake pans when serving a crowd. Try adding a cup of pumpkin puree to the chocolate recipe in place of some of the water. A cup of mini-chocolate chips doesn’t hurt anybody’s feelings either. You might want to look up the recipe for Chocolate Orange cake in this blog’s archives.
For a lighter, and luscious lemon cake, Start with a lemon cake mix, replace the oil with lite yogurt. If you’re really going for FABULOUS, replace half the water with a cup of cooked, pureed oranges, including the peel. (I do the oranges ahead in my electric pressure cooker, puree them and freeze them in 1 cup portion ziplock bags) The cake will take a little longer to bake and will be very moist and flavorful. Glaze with a lemon, powdered sugar and butter glaze.
I loved a talk I heard over the weekend by Lynn G Robbins. He urged us to simpify our lives. He made the comment that “We don’t own things, our things own us. Things must be maintained, cleaned, paid for, and insured. Why not donate those items to someone who needs them or actually fits into them?” That hit home.. . right at the hips.
I always get the bug around this time of year. Spring fever makes me want to move and autumn fever makes me want to get rid of stuff. To celebrate my birthday, I set a goal to get rid of 30 items of clothing.
Not one single thing I gave away is anything I’ll particularly miss. I found two items I had forgotten I owned. In fact, I don’t remember ever seeing them. I blame it on the humongous closets this house boasts. Jeff and I each have huge walk in closets and it seems like they fill up with stuff without our really meaning to do it.
Now my closet is tidier. What a fun way to spend a birthday! I recommend it!
30 things! In some places in the world, that would outfit a village full of women!
Next is books. I’ve decided that if I will never read them again, and nobody else in my family is likely to want to read them, why not give them to someone who will? I’m starting today! 
Plus, it’s a good time to do it! It’s hard to buy more stuff for the holidays when it’s so much hard work to get rid of it. AND if you donate it to a thrift store associated with a charity like the Salvation Army or Disabled veterans, it’s also tax deductible. I dropped the clothes off at the HOPE center in Edmond. It included the CUTEST polka dot dress that I never wore because I bought it at a thrift store in hope that I might fit into it someday. Is that why they call that thrift store the HOPE center?
So. . .if anyone wants books, I’m going down by the contents of one case. I only keep the good ones. Yes, I’ll still have about a thousand, but I have to start somewhere. I have to admit, the books are going to hurt more than the clothes did.
After that, I’m going through pots and pans again. Well. . . we’ll see. I’m not sure I’m THAT brave!
My brother Scott recently visited with some of my Dad’s former assistant coaches. One is apparently the ultimate football encyclopedia with clippings and journals of games going back decades. He gave Scott this clipping marked “Hal Mitchell coaches son Scott during practice.” Scott immediately recognized that Dad didn’t coach the offense (and Scott was the quarterback) and further that his helmet never had the center forehead bar. It’s actually my Dad, Hal Mitchell, coaching my second brother Mark. This picture was taken in 1973 at Cabrillo College.
Dad was 43 and Mark was 18. It would have been two years until Dad had his first coronary bypass surgery. Two years before he left coaching forever, and went to work for Rawlings Sporting Goods in their Research and Development dept in Missouri. Eventually he would be introduced as the foremost expert on sports injuries in the nation.
This picture was printed in the newspaper 20 years before his obituary announcing that he had lost his final battle with prostate cancer.
There’s an empty jar of peanuts under the seat of his truck.
Mark would leave on an LDS mission to Japan a year after this picture was taken. A little more than two years after that, he and Velinda Gay would be married and a year after that, little Emily would make him a daddy.
What is he saying to him in this moment of unconcerned football bliss? Perhaps the coach reminds him how to read a quarterback’s eyes, or how to fake out an O-lineman?
I wonder if deep in the memory of each of these two men is nestled the sound of their voices that day, the smell of grass and sweat and the nearby ocean, the sensation of the father’s hand on his son’s shoulder.
What would they each give to relive that moment from the perspective of here and now?
Would they speak of something different?
Oh remember my son. . .
If I had to relive one week of my life, the week that my daughter Tricia had her palate surgery would be the VERY last that I would want to go through.
Yet, it was one of the most important events that has shaped me as a parent. I wouldn’t trade it.
She was tiny for her age, a friendly little mite with blond hair and gray-green eyes. She liked to dangle her legs over the edge of the balcony of our no-frills student apartment and call “Hi!” to the passersby.
She was 19 months old when the plastic surgeon deemed her old enough and heavy enough to withstand the surgery. She enjoyed the juices and toys and playhouses in the play room of Primary Children’s Hospital the night before the surgery. In the morning, they wheeled her off on a high gurney as she gazed curiously around the hall.
It was a complicated procedure. Her cleft palate was so severe that they did a pharyngeal flap at the same time as they closed the cleft palate. She had sutures forming two opposite candycanes along the left and right sides of the palate, a suture line that ran from the gum ridge, through the back of the soft palate, uniting each half of her uvula for the first time. Beyond our view, a flap was cut from the back of her throat and rotated forward and stitched across the back of the soft palate to extend it so that it could reach the back of her throat and thereby avoid the typical cleft palate (often unintelligible) speech. Everywhere that new tissue was introduced (as in the union of the hard and soft palate and the pharyngeal flap) the edges of the tissue to be joined had to be cut so that the two raw edges could heal together. When I think about how sensitive a mouth is, it gives me shivers to think of it.
She woke before the pain meds wore off. “Daddy” she said as plainly as any child ever said it. It was the first time she’d been able to form the plosive consonant “D.” The flap was already functioning perfectly.
Her arms were splinted so that she couldn’t reach her mouth and disturb the artful reconstruction of her mouth. She HATED the constraint of the arm splints.
She was pale beyond measure and there was a little blood around her lips. “Keep it moist,” the doctor instructed the nurses. ” She must take at least 20 oz a day to stay hydrated and keep the site moist.
The nurses at Primary Children’s were absolutely wonderful.. The doctor’s skills were incredible. It truly is artistry to see the solution to
She was soon in serious pain. I don’t remember what they did to ease it, if anything. She was so little, I think they just kept her on Tylenol.
Tricia clamped her mouth shut while big tears rolled down her cheeks, whimpering through her nose. Her eyes pleaded, “Please don’t make me swallow.OH PLEASE!”
But the risk was too great to let her go without drinking. We had to force her. Every drop of jello water down her throat was a victory. The nurses showed us how to cross our knees over her lower body and pin her arm under ours. We couldn’t force anything into her delicate site, so she had to open her mouth. She wouldn’t do it unless we plugged her nose. She’d hold her breath as long as she could and then open to breathe. We pour in a teaspoon of liquid. She’d struggle and cry and splutter. We’d wake her to try to pour more liquid in her mouth. “Wake up sleepy baby so I can torture you some more.”
But it was either that or a lifetime of poor speech quality and/or a need to redo the surgery.
On the evening of the fourth day, a nurse asked her if she’d like some apple juice. She loved apple juice. She nodded. The nurse gave her about 2 oz in a cup and she drank it voluntarily. My heart still leaps when I remember the joy of that moment. She wasn’t completely done fighting me, but after 6 days in the hospital, the pain was less. We took home our little ghost for another two weeks in the arm splints.
My friend Robin who lived in our complex cried when she brought Tricia’s little playmate Tara over to greet her. They didn’t stay long. She said she couldn’t stand to see her looking so weak.
Nowadays, cleft palate babies get an I. V. They’ve discovered that the saliva is enough to keep the site moist. . .
But at the time, we believed that her whole future depended on our relentless diligence in forcing her to drink. A normal life and bright future depended on good quality speech. But knowing that forcing her to do what had to be done was absolutely for her own good didn’t make it any easier emotionally.
What is it like for our Heavenly Father? He lets us suffer through all kinds of trials and pain and grief and hardship when He could take it away. But He knows the outcome he wants for us, so He allows all the mortal difficulties to teach us and shape us so that we can reach our full potential. He is faithful and firm in giving us what is best, even though it is often not at all what we want.
Wise adults follow the Lord’s example in giving what is best, whether it pleases the requester or not.
Wise parents restrict their children’s activities and do not give them everything they think they want, while seeing fully to their actual needs. They give whatever is best until the child is old enough to understand the ramifications of his/her choices. To abdicate these responsibilities is to shortchange our children and damn them to a life of substandard achievement and dwarfed faith.
I believe that each of us will be held accountable for over-indulging our children. As we help them do hard things, and sacrifice things they want for higher purposes, they develop confidence, moral courage and integrity. Their lives will bloom into powerful, joyful, capable leaders.
Oh you got trouble!
Harold Hill: Now the next thing you know your sons’ll be bettin’ for money in pinch-back suit. . .first, medicinal wine from a teaspoon and then beer from a bottle. . .Oh we got trouble!
America! Let me introduce you to a new word!
‘HILLARY’. verb- the act of scamming people into thinking there’s problem which only you can solve, where there is no real problem or threat. hillary: noun A scam or scammer that plays on emotion and uses mob mentality to create a sense of need where there was none before, and then gain power by promising to fill the created need.
Alas, I can take no credit for it. I lifted it from Meridith Wilson’s gilt-tongued, slick-sliding, prevaricating prophet, Harold Hill, aka The Music Man.
First You must create a demon to fight. Find a catch phrase that plays either on guilt, greed or fear.
Hill: The new pool table is corrupting your children.
Modern version of HILLary: Wall-Street Billionaires are waging a war on women.
Obviously, your catch phrase and villainization need have NO anchor in truth.
Second: The next phase is to alarm them into agreeing that there’s a problem.
Harold Hill: “First, medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a bottle! And the next thing you know your son’ll be rollin’ up his knickerbockers, horse race gambling, smokin’ and coverin’ up with sin-sin. Nevermind getting dandelions picked or the cistern filled on a Saturday night.
Modern HILLary: The next thing you know, they’ll be takin’ away health care, dooming you to unfair pay for equal work, and takin’ the food from mouths of hungry children! The rich get richer and the poor get poorer! Republicans want to keep you in poverty while they sip cocktails on their yachts. (Ever notice how weirdly the word ‘yacht’ is spelled?)
Third:Make it politically incorrect to question your motives/facts/data. Feel free to pretzel twist data to create a platform. Create a battle cry.
Hill: Now I know all you folks are the right kind of people. Let me make this perfectly clear! Your children’s children gonna have trouble trouble trouble!
HILLary: Sisters must join together to fight the wall-street bullies who want to rob you of your futures, force you to abort your babies with a coat hanger and keep you in poverty! Women earn only 73% of what comparable men earn. (No need to identify the meaning in the word “comparable”. Statistics are convincing, even if they have little tie to truth or understanding)
Fourth:Offer YOURSELF (or your product) as the ONLY solution: Remind them of some pleasant association. No worries, you’ll never be asked for that result if you follow these rules.
Hill: Whatcha need is a band, a boys band. And they’re gonna be in uniform! Think of John Phillip Sousa!
HILLary: Vote for a woman and all your dreams will come true. You’ll be financially secure, you’ll have wonderful healthcare. (sorry, I never have heard how Hillary plans to solve this monstrous societal problem of the genders being different from each other. Since behaviors and choices govern pay and opportunity, and she’s certainly smart enough to know that tenure, (women statistically have less) type of professions (women statistically choose low paying humanitarian jobs like teaching, social work and daycare far more often than men), and are far more likely to have family concerns interfere with job performance, she’d have to change the female nurturing nature to begin to equalize the gender dollars. Here’s a link to a govt. report from the Bureau of Labor Statistics that gives much interesting information in regard to the gender pay gap.
http://www.bls.gov/news.release/tenure.nr0.htm
Scouts honor, there was nothing on the emails that anyone would want to read.
Fifth: Finally, if you have followed the formula properly, the population swallows your hook and digests your bait and you have no need to deliver anything but the mere hint of effort to satisfy the voters. As a precaution, however, It’s wise to buy some black-rimmed glasses to make you seem intelligent and utterly unaware of fashion. EVERYONE knows it’s impossible to be both physically attractive AND wise. You must seem SO intelligent that you defy anyone to question your analysis, let alone your integrity. Who can doubt a person wearing black-rimmed readers? I bet Sarah Palin is still mystified how she could be governor of a wild, freedom-loving state like Alaska and be treated like she didn’t have a brain in her head! It’s all in the attractive glasses. If only she’d gone to someone who knew the fashion of politics. The white teeth don’t help anything either, Governor Palin.
Harold Hill: Now Think! Just think about the melody and you’ll be able to play it!
Modern HILLary: “So four Americans are dead, WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE!”(we can assume since they were all males?) or maybe, “MY PRIVATE SERVER WAS ALLOWED UNDER THE STATE DEPARTMENT RULES.”
Again, there need not be any relation to truth. You already have people on your side if you’ve gotten this far, so anything that reminds them of the demon and hints that you’re the martyr for the cause will do.
Now you may know how the story goes. Somehow, Meridith Wilson has us rooting for the slick Hill, even though we know from the outset that he’s no good. We’re hoping the respectable librarian will succumb to his wiles and maybe the magic band will appear and prevent all backsliding in River City Iowa.
Why? Why do we fall for his hillary? We fall for the hillary for the same reason (and the same demographic) that buys lottery tickets. We know it’s far fetched. We know the chances of succeeding are nearly non-existent. Yet, the infant alive in our core still wants someone to wave a magic wand and make all the challenges of adult life and society vanish away so we can live happily ever after without opposition. We want someone to make our choices for us and better yet, make everyone else be good according to our standards, too.
It’s a very very ancient method. And it still works.
HILLARY: noun A scam or scammer that plays on emotion and uses mob mentality to create a sense of need where there was none before, and then gain power by promising to fill the created need.
An honest panhandler!
I had a dream this morning that Jeff and I (and some other family members) were in the LDS temple getting ready for a temple worker training. But the woman they called on to give the invocation decided to tell a story instead. It was a story of needy children going to a place like the Hope Center to get food and warm clothes because they didn’t have what they needed.
I woke before she got to the end of the prayer-story, but I immediately remembered that I had read that The Regional Food Bank of Oklahoma is over a MILLION POUNDS short of food this year. I felt the dream had a message for me and might be significant to most Americans. But here are some thoughts on blessing the most for the dollars you sacrifice.
To illustrate the angst we all feel:
My sister in law works filling orders at a food pantry once a week. The screener verifies that they meet the tests to determine that they are truly needy and are trying to solve their problems and then a shopping list is made up. Among the requirements is proof of a local address. They don’t want people freebee hopping.
One week, she had worked the afternoon going around the pantry, selecting items from the list with clients. The next day, she was driving in the small town and saw one of the very people she’d given a large sack of groceries to on the corner, holding up a cardboard sign that read “Hungry and homeless, Please help, God bless.”
She rolled down her window and he approached her car. “You’re not hungry!” she admonished him. “Don’t you remember that big sack of groceries I gave you yesterday? And you gave your address on your form. Your sign is dishonest!”
The fellow agreed that he wanted money for other things and wandered off down a side street.
I know that readers of Chocolate Cream Centers are good-hearted folks. We feel guilty every time we pass by a cardboard sign-holder, even knowing that the vast majority of these beggars are scammers. I’ve read half a dozen news reports and studies that support this fact. (Google “who are panhandlers”) The homeless and or the truly hungry don’t go stand on street corners to beg with a cardboard sign. They approach people directly if they’re desperate, or they access the charitable organizations and facilities. If a cardboard sign holder has the fortune to get a turn on a lucrative corner with lots of shoppers around it and a long stop light, they can make an average of four figures PER WEEK!
This isn’t news. Yet we still feel guilty because we have developed our capacity for compassion. In the Book of Mormon, King Benjamin tells us not to “suffer the beggar to put up his petition in vain.”
Yet how do we keep from letting the pressure of our immediate emotions (guilt, compassion) overwhelm the wise course our intellect dictates?
Consider this: There are only so many charitable dollars to go around. Those monies must feed the hungry, clothe the naked, provide heat and shelter and job training, fuel and transportation for a large group of unfortunate people. There are hungry children whose parents are too dysfunctional to provide for them RIGHT HERE IN OKLAHOMA and everywhere else my readers are sitting. There are unemployed families who are trying to make ends meet but have been evicted and have nowhere to go. There are school children without decent shoes or warm clothes. If they were assembled on a street corner and you were certain of their need, you’d run to the ATM to make a withdrawal and hurry back to hand out as much as you possibly could, wouldn’t you?
By giving money to cardboard sign-holding scammers, you are essentially robbing the truly (desperately) needy people. You’re giving money that would have gone to them to some dude who is going to go spend it on drugs or alcohol and little or none of it will make him any better off tomorrow.
I’m not saying that if someone approaches you in a parking lot and says they need groceries for their family and have no money, you should turn your back. Buy them a nice big sack of groceries. If they say they need gas, go to a gas station and buy them gas. Don’t believe the line that their destitute family is travelling to another city and ran out of gas and have no money. That’s a scam. Ask to see their car and check their gas gauge.
Best of all: TODAY, WRITE DOWN THE ADDRESS AND PHONE OF THE NEAREST COMMUNITY SHARING-TYPE FACILITY AND PUT IT IN YOUR WALLET. WHEN A DUBIOUS PANHANDLER APPROACHES, GIVE HIM THE SLIP AND TELL HIM YOU’LL MAKE A DONATION TO THAT FACILITY FOR HIS SAKE.
Another advantage to donating online is that you get a receipt so you can deduct that amount on your taxes.
There are dozens of organizations that provide for the truly needy. My favorites spend over 90% of the money and goods they receive directly on benefiting those in need.
If you receive a mail solicitation, check them out on
http://www.charitynavigator.org/. This site ranks all types of non-profits. It describes the work they do and how much of their assets are actually spent on helping those they claim to serve. Localized charities and soup kitchens are not rated on that site, but they have their data printed out and ready if they’re legitimate. Here are some good ones.
For the generous in the Edmond area, The Hope Center of Edmond is a terrific agency for administering effective and efficient relief to the hungry and naked, medical attention to the sick, (with immunizations and prenatal care for poor people) and job-finding assistance. It is a stand alone completely dependent on local donations. You can donate food or clothes if you have some extra, (go to the south west corner of the building on Boulevard and Danforth for donations) but money is much more efficient in providing their most pressing needs.
https://hopecenterofedmond.com/online-giving/
Church related charities are very often some of the best. Reverend West’s Saint Luke Baptist Church and Rev. Calvino Muse’s True Love First Baptist Church Spencer, Oklahoma make mountains of sandwiches in a program they call Sandwiches from Saints. They take them to areas of town where poverty is the deepest and give them to those in need.
Catholic Charities is efficiently run and expert at ministering to the sick and needy.
https://support.catholiccharitiesusa.org
The Salvation Army gets fantastic ratings for efficient ministry to the needy. https://donate.salvationarmyusa.org.
LDS Humanitarian Services spends 100% of donations on food, medicine, clothing, disaster relief. Even transportation costs and administrators (if paid) are paid from other Church funds. https://www.lds.org/topics/humanitarian-service
As I said at the top of the post, The Regional Food Bank of Oklahoma is short a million pounds of food. It’s easy to donate online.
Give generously before you start your Christmas shopping and pass the panhandlers with a clear conscience!
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