Wednesday, September 30, 2009


The Minimalist

(by R.P.Edwards)

I thought I was lazy
A bum
Choosing to coast
When others say, “Run!”
Choosing to watch
While others climb high
Choosing the earth
While the teachers scream, “fly!”
But I’ve learned I’m ok
I’m a minimalist, see?
I’m so very glad
There’s a label…
For me

“What rank do I need in order to go camping?” That, dear reader, was my sincere query of the scoutmaster as I explored my options in boy scout world. “Tenderfoot,” was his reply. And so, I learned the “minimal” methods and memorization needed for said rank and, once achieved…there I stayed. Shameful…or is it?

Let’s face it…we are taught to go for the goals. Success is measured by the money, or the milestones. And oh, how we love the rags to riches, underdog makes good, stories. “Achieve!” they say. “Make something of yourself!” Earn! Learn! The candle…burn! And, in the process…we do…and having “done”…we die. And how we laud…those who try.

But what about the others? What about the mundane, the plain, the inane? What about the dull…who mull? The slow…who “don’t” go. The masses who “passes?” Are we not, dear friend, the reflector to the bulb? The chorus for the crooner? The wire…for the walker? And the answer is a resounding…yes!

And so, for those of us who find comfort in routine. Who lessen stress by conserving energy when it comes to rehab and repair, or the cutting of our hair; we have a name, a place, and a purpose. We are minimalists! And where, I ask you, would you achievers be…without us?

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Life, Prorated

In His Image

(by R.P.Edwards)

In His image…am I
Crafted by His hand
A destiny for only me
A solitary plan
So when others say
I have no place
No fitting for their path
They forget the one
Who gave them breath
They forget that He has…wrath

As this is another Sunday posting, I thought it appropriate to continue in the same vein as last week. As you may recall, that offering pointed out how scripture reveals (without much digging) that God views human life in the womb, as just that…human life. I can’t help it if some religious institutions, through some sort of convoluted reasoning, come up with something different. The scripture is clear enough.

Well, the next obvious step is to find God’s view of human life unjustly terminated. What immediately comes to mind is the sixth commandment: Thou shalt not Kill. Or, more accurately, substitute “murder” for “kill.” You can find the list in Exodus twenty and some other places. However, while preparing for this article (briefly) I ran across an interesting verse from Genesis, “Whoever shed’s man’s blood, by man his blood shall be shed, for in the image of God He made man.” (9:6) Now, I suppose you could use this as justification for capital punishment, but my interest at this time is more to God’s view of His creation. We are made in His “image.” We are special, unique, purposed. And this, dear reader, includes the life in the womb.

Without a doubt, one of the largest stumbling blocks in the abortion debate is our conception of worth. For so long we’ve been told that a baby, one day before birth, is different than a child, one day after, that we start to believe it. We ascribe value to trimesters and terms. Days and months build the baby. However, if we were to use the same reasoning “after” birth (I.e, an infant is less valuable than a toddler, toddler is less than a teen, teen, less than an adult, but greater than senior, etc) we’d be called some sort of heartless fiends. But, don’t you see, when it comes to the human life in the womb…that’s exactly what we do?

To conclude: This blurb is aimed, mainly, at those who profess to trust Jesus as their Savior and believe the Bible is true. I really want all of us, who start at the foundation of the cross, to get on the same page when it comes to this very important subject. I honestly believe that with the fate of the innocent in the womb…so goes the nation. More on that…later.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Why Pie

Why Pie

(by R.P.Edwards)

Pie! Pie!
I must have Pie!
Why pie?
Well, because…I…I…
Because…with my eye…
Because with my eye…I spy…
Because with my eye…I spy…the calendar!
It’s Autumn, silly!
Time for Pie!

It’s in the brain. A trigger. Like a certain smell flips the switch and…Bam!…a memory. Like the sometimes briny breath of the scale pit (remember, I work at a steel mill) brings back thoughts of Long Island Sound. Or the sight and smell of honeysuckle might well resurrect a remembrance of grandma’s house, which had quite a bit. In this case, however, it’s the calendar. Sure, the high hovers around 80 degrees. Sure, leaves are still green and grass still needs to be cut. But…the calendar says…Autumn! And Autumn means…Pie!

So, naturally, after the tangent is taken…I text. “Pie, Pie, I must have pie!” And, it just so happens, that my understanding wife, mere minutes from the message, has a pie sizzling in the oven. And why? Because one lonely Dutch Apple “fund raiser” pie was languishing in our deep freeze. Awaiting the time…for pie.

Monday, September 21, 2009

O Delta Smelt

O Delta Smelt
(sung to the music of “O Tannenbaum” or, for the rest of us, “O Christmas Tree.”)
(New lyrics by R.P.Edwards)

O Delta Smelt
O Delta Smelt
O how we love this fishy

O Delta Smelt
O Delta Smelt
O how we love this fishy

To heck with farmers water needs
We give you most, so you can breed

O Delta Smelt
O Delta Smelt
O how we love this fishy

The San Joaquin valley: A very fertile piece of real estate in central California where all kinds of neat agricultural stuff is (was) grown (grapes, cherries, nuts, fruit, etc). In the mid to late 80’s, before heading back east, my young family occupied some space there while we tried to raise a couple boys and, at the same time, squish some knowledge into our brains (Note: for those so inclined; make sure it’s “useful” knowledge). Anyway, being a lad who grew up in Connecticut, I was not expecting, among other things, the heat (110 degrees on some summer days! “But it’s dry heat,” placate the locals. Yeah, right). As I was saying, we lived there and, not being from farm country, I was intrigued by the large contraptions used for irrigation in this “no rain today” environment. In fact, until we moved to the middle, I didn’t know there were farmers who still solely depended on the overhead clouds for the wet stuff.

I presume by now you’ve heard of the plight of the growers in said valley. It seems that a little fishy, named the “Delta Smelt,” being a bit down in population, is apparently adversely effected by runoff from farmers fields as they do their “feed the world” thing. Some concerned Washington types determined that it’s better to give these oversized guppies a hand, rather than let the crops…drink. They nearly closed the spigot. And the farmers…and the country…suffer.

Perhaps “we the people” should get involved. Perhaps this is just another opportunity to remind certain entities that their “authority” is not innate. It, as always, is given to be used, and not abused. Go ahead, put a few “smelt” in your tank, but, when your zeal threatens the livelihood of thousands, and the stomachs of millions…well, I say, it’s time for your lease…to expire.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Why Pro-Life?

The Pilot
(by R.P.Edwards)

Apostasy is all the rage
When Truth is at the wheel
But let the rebels take control
And reefs…will kiss the keel

Normally I don’t post on Sunday. But, since I’m up exceptionally early due to that “job” thing, perhaps a somewhat “religious” offering is in order.

Some background: Like many, I can be categorized as a “Christian.” Under this broad heading you’ll find me further defined as “born again,” and further, “Bible Believing.” Basically this means that I, having recognized my lost condition (and my inability to “work my way” out of it) cast myself upon the mercy of God, accepted the one who died for my sin (Jesus), and made a commitment to Him (sort of like the “I do” in a marriage arrangement. I.e. A serious thing). And, since I believe God is well able, I believe He figured out how to preserve His word on the pages (the Bible).

Now, having said all that, you can understand how this “relationship” colors my views. Just as my marriage to my wife effects --even when I can’t see her--my actions; even so my “commitment” to my Savior finds its way into my opinion. In other words; this God reality…trumps.

If you’ve been following my writings at all, you’ve probably figured out I’m hotly pro-life and, since it’s Sunday, and I know there are a lot of sincere religious folk out there who are indifferent to the subject or, for some reason…anti. Here’s my take:

It all comes down to the life in the womb. The Black Robed priests in DC say… “not”. Therefore, dispose of at will. But, how does God view this nine-month inconvenience? Just a few scriptures: In Genesis 25:22 Rebekah was pregnant and something unusual was happening. Here’s how it reads: “But the children struggled within her.” Well, she asked God about it and He proceeded to tell her that two distinct peoples would come from these twins. Now, in Psalm 127:3 it reads, “Behold, children are a gift of the Lord; The fruit of the womb is a reward.” Here’s what I want you to notice; the word “children” in both verses (in womb, out of womb) is the same in the Hebrew. In other words, God doesn’t make a distinction.

Here’s some New Testament. Remember the whole Christmas story? Well, Mary’s cousin, Elizabeth, was pregnant when Mary (also with child) showed up. Here’s what the older lady said when the younger came into the room, “For behold, when the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby leaped in my womb for joy.”(Luke 1:44) Later, in the next chapter, we read about the angel’s message to the shepherds. He said, “And this will be a sign to you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths, and lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:12) Again, the word for baby (Greek this time) is the same. No difference in God’s eyes.

You see, to God, children are a “reward,” not a curse. In fact, in Jeremiah 1 he told the prophet, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.” Did you get that? God himself “forms” the child in the womb and has a plan for that child’s life!

It’s about time to head out to the “job.” But think about it…if each abortion is really the murder of one of God’s children…shouldn’t that, at least to Christians, be a concern?

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Evil Never Sleeps!

Evil Never Sleeps

(by R.P.Edwards)

From our beginning
Fallen place
The choices…
A warning from the one who keeps
“Lurking evil…never sleeps”
And so the children pick there path
And most choose bloodshed, cruelty, wrath
But some
The few
A vigil keep
Remembering …“Evil, never sleeps”
But through the years
The lights are few
Falsehood hiding bearings, true
But still a remnant
A vessel keeps
Remembering…“Evil, never sleeps”
And tyrants rise
And millions fall
And many answer
Honor’s call
And from their rest
To children speak…
“Remember…Evil, never sleeps!”
And now with despots
Again in place
A choosing…
A need for vigilance!
and Semper Fi!
A patriot’s heart!
A warrior’s cry!
But instead we cringe
And sound retreat
And offer words
To tyrants…sweet
And choose the path
Where freedom weeps
Forgetting…“Evil, never sleeps”

I won’t belabor the administrations decision to renege on the missile defense arrangements with Poland and the Czech republic, other than to say, “What did we expect?” Honestly, did we think our military would become stronger…or weaker, with the election of our current President? Did we really expect our agencies of defense and deterrence to be supported, or denigrated? Did we really think that tyrants (yes…that describes ‘em) would cower before Mr. Obama, or become emboldened?

Listen, here’s the problem: Last November we (as in the yea-sayers) voted for a dream…a wonderful fantasy worthy of Hollywood where eloquent words…solved everything. The problem is…evil exists. And, unquestionably, there are those who joyfully give themselves to it. And, friend, weakness does not dissuade them. Only strength.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

The Hard Way

The Hard Way

(by R.P.Edwards)

It’s a journey of instruction
Dependable and pure
Useful for the toughest case
The arrogant and sure
For those hell-bent and headstrong
Discarding what “you” say
A beaten path “you’ve” gone before
A path we call…Hard Way

It’s a phrase best said with flair, panache, an in your face almost arrogance. “Go ahead! (says dad, standing and raising his right hand quickly as if trying to bag the latest dinger from Albert Pujos [St Louis Cardinal, future hall of famer]). You don’t have to listen to me! You can do it (here it comes)…the hard way! Actually (the elder continues, pacing slowly back and forth, the right arm imitating the ump’s balls and strikes) it’s a time honored method! It’s been the teacher of multitudes! Whole generations! Why (there’s a pausing, facing, a slight bowing with the right hand flat against the breast bone, along with a rightward cocking of the head) even I have used it. So (upright and pacing) go ahead! Don’t listen to me! Do it your way! But if you’re smart (the pacing stops, the volume lessens, eye contact is made…and held) really smart…you’ll listen to your old man on this one.”

It’s tough growing up. Depending on your disposition (remembering that “pride” is part of the hardware) your little world expands, you become the master of it, and then extrapolate to assume the universe. Reality, when not softened by a timely (heeded) word, can be a cruel taskmaster. Yes, the “hard way” is an excellent that needs to be avoided, if at all possible.

You know, looking at our current conditions (economic, social, spiritual) it appears that we, since we are hell-bent on ignoring the warnings of the past, are destined for a very hard teaching. And it’s a shame. So much pain to be avoided. But, perhaps, pain will be the best teacher. It is, after all, traditional.

Friday, September 4, 2009



(by R.P.Edwards)

“O, we’re so compatible!”
Say the lovebirds in the nest
Singing pure devotion
Before a single test
But if you want attention
Pass decades, one…and two
“Then” we’ll pay your method…mind
The one…of which…you coo

Reginald looked across the crowded ballroom and there, like a blooming violet nestled midst a slightly jumbled line of darkly polished straight back chairs…was his destiny. All alone, and apparently content to be (as evidenced by her oft refusals of a suitors invitation) a fair skinned waif with long auburn locks and a floor-length dress of azure turned slightly sideways and, as her head leisurely turned to gaze upon the moon’s gentle reflections on the country club’s twenty-acre lake (her delicate shoulders revealing the slightest of sighs), Reginald, like an alighting monarch butterfly, quietly seated himself two chairs distant and, leaning, whispered, “Beautiful, isn’t it?” With the intrusion the maiden stirred suddenly but, after an apology and an anecdote, the ice was broken and, by evening’s end--such was their symmetry--a lifetime of married bliss was a bygone conclusion. [Five years later] “I WANT A DIVORCE!” “DITTO!”

Sorry, but these matchmaker commercials just hit me wrong. Oh, I sympathize with the search. I feel for the forlorn, but these “newbies” and their eternal declarations. Untested, untried, lacking rigors and rapids and rainy days. Devoid of potholes and pit stops and detours and destitution and denials and delusions and doo doo. Well, I think the euphoria of the youthful…is a bit misleading. Use a time machine to bring back a blissful octogenarian couple to testify. No time machine? How about a disclaimer scrolling on the bottom of the screen. WARNING! Couples in this commercial are suffering from short term phermonic delirium.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Beck Me!

I’ve been Becked!

(by R.P.Edwards)

Kinda fun
Careful now…he’s gotta gun!
Then…a squeak
Bold as brass
Yet mild and meek
Chalk boards!…Experts!…and O, those knees!
The candies cry out, “Save us, please!”
But ‘neath the show and dramas do
Methinks there beats a heart that’s true
A conscience pricked by dangers tread
He speaks for founders…long since dead
And passion oft from passion spews
Along the way…a tear or two
As laughter laced with painful truth
Gives minutemen remembered youth
And conscious pause…of freedom’s “when”
Annoying beacon
Thank you …Glenn

No, I’m not an addict, but every now and then I like that Beck fix. As stated somewhere in the archives (yes, I have archives) I’m a union guy with conservative tendencies (or visa versa). Pro-life, pro-family, pro-second amendment, but recognizing the need of collective strength.

Well, it seems there are other “unions” being formed these days. Except, instead of facing off against a corporate meanie, many ordinary folk (in the form of tea-parties, town halls, etc ) are now joining voices and wills against a government…apparently gone mad. Indeed, there seems to be a remembrance (incredibly) that elected officials actually “do” work for us. That their loaned power and pocketbook is not a license for abuse. That their towering intellect (as lofty as it may be) is still subject to we rube-ish knuckle-walkers. And, though the course may, via perceived mandate, lead us to disaster’s very door, we can, at least, find solace in the fact that we are wiser now…and “never again.”

I looked a little into the history of the baby-faced broadcaster. You know, I found it appealing. Why? Because it’s not perfect. In fact, it’s riddled with imperfections, nor is it adorned with all the lettered “nothings” that so often grease the hinges of today’s elite mechanism. But, in prodigal fashion, despite his failings, Glenn has emerged as a passionate, compassionate advocate for “beginnings.” A voice for the hopeful past, and a glaring, focused, light beam into the darkened, crusted corners of the Washington cupboard. We may not agree on everything…but have at it, Glenn. Mix it up…and maybe we’ll be able to, eventually, fix it up.

That's what I think.  How about you?  Click comments below...and say.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Press depression

4 + 5 = 0

(by R.P.Edwards)

The fourth estate
The column…five
A champion…that takes a dive
Depending on objective words
Instead…a swooning sound is heard
And we, the bearers of their lack
May never have our nation back
For Murrow’s children
Gone astray
Espouse “their” whims
Their preference…say
The heralds voice
A barkers jive
The fourth estate
Now…column five

There were three estates, see: the clergy, the nobility, and the commoners. Edmund Burke (English fellow, a long time ago) said there was another power group to deal with…the press. These scribblers were the “fourth estate.” Now, Mr. Thomas Jefferson, writing to his bud, John Jay, said, “Our liberty cannot be guarded but by the freedom of the press, nor that be limited without danger of losing it.” A pretty important group, I’d say.

“The fifth column.” A phrase having to do with this guy named Emilio Mola who said he had a “fifth column” within the city of Madrid (Spanish Civil War) to go along with the four outside the walls. In other words: there’s a fox in the henhouse.

And so we have the joining. Here’s what I mean. Long before the November elections we had a media that overwhelmingly favored the “leftward” candidate. They loved his rhetoric, his vision, his promises, his poise. They “tingled” when he spoke and, when it came time to put pen to paper, the wunderkind candidate was seen through the glasses of rose. So…here we are, mere months into the new Camelot, and on the brink of disaster(s). And, I contend, should disaster come, then equal culpability must go to a media that has become the equivalent of a “fifth column.” Yes, if things go terribly wrong (and they very well might…to deadly effect) then we need to remember those who cosigned the loan.