A House Divided


In my lifetime I would have never thought I would see Americans turning on each other as they are now. We have been a melting pot of different nationalities, occupations, and lifestyles for over 200 years. Just in my time here on this earth, I have witnessed national disasters, riots, national disasters, wars, threats of war, and many elections.  Never have I seen such a division in our country, that didn’t start with the last election but started during the last Administration.

I can see the hate mail I’m going to receive for that last statement but it is how I see it. Say or believe what you will but I have lived in different States, North, South, East and West in this country. I have lived in big cities and small villages. Not since the race riots in the fifties and sixties have I seen such a division of between Blacks and Whites that crashed and burned during the Presidency of Barack Obama. More Black people have held powerful positions in our Government over the last twenty some years than in any time of our history and yet we keep hearing how Whitey is beating the Black man down. Yet, look it up yourself from the Department of Justice and you will see the number one killer of young black men are young black men.

I would have never thought Americans wanting to take care of American and Americans first, over illegal aliens and other countries would be looked down upon.  Yet here we are with homeless Veterans and American children, going hungry while we spend billions of dollars people that came here illegally and send foreign aid to countries that would burn our flag and sit on us.

Now I’m watching fellow Americans hating our President so much they would rather see America fail than to see him successful. That train of thought befuddles my brain. Everything President Trump does, is wrong in their eyes, regardless of anything good that is happening. During his time in office, housing is thriving, there are more blacks working and owning their own homes than in the last twenty years, unemployment is down at an all-time record, and the stock market is at an all-time high. I would bet that any of the haters having 401Ks aren’t complaining about their accounts going up.  All they do is come up with reasons why none of these things have anything to do with President Trump. It’s all about hating Donald Trump, no matter what. If the reason to hate him isn’t working today, they find something new tomorrow.  It saddens me that my fellow Americans have so much hate in their hearts.

All of this hate has now flowed over into our lives through social media. Over the last two years, because I choose to stand with the President and not trash him and every single decision he makes or over every word he speaks or types, I have been sent hate mail, told I’m ignorant trailer trash redneck hillbilly, sent wishes of my death, and now have had longtime friends tell me if I stand with the President they don’t want to be my friend any longer.

I don’t agree with everything our President does, but I didn’t agree with everything any of the Presidents since I was old enough to understand how the world works.  I never told anyone I didn’t want to be their friend because they stood behind their beliefs or they voted for someone other than I did.

We as a country are sliding down a very slippery slope with all this hate and discontent. A slippery slope of not impeachment but a slippery slope of unrest and civil war. The downfall of American isn’t coming from Iran, Iraq, Syra or Russia, but from within.

Slow down haters, think of what you are losing with all the hate in your heart. It’s not just what you believe to be Trump and his followers, but all that America has stood for over the last two hundred years. Are we perfect, not by a long shot?  Our differences once brought us to together but now the hate you have in your hears is tearing us apart.

Stop jumping to conclusions because of your hate. Case in point, the Supreme Court nominee. Haters started hating that person before he or she was even named. You have Roe vs. Wade overturned before a judge is put in office. Now you can see the future?

Personally, I have better things to do with my life than to hate all the time. I’m not a big religious person, something I think is very personal and private. I do believe in trying to live by the teachings in the bible. Take it or leave it, there are many good things to live by;

Proverbs 10:12

Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offenses.

President Lincoln said: “”A house divided against itself cannot stand.” I believe this government cannot endure, permanently half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to be dissolved—I do not expect the house to fall—but I do expect it will cease to bedivided. It will become all one thing, or all the other.”

I believe this country cannot endure, permanently radical left and radical right. We must stop the hate and come to the middle.

I’m standing in the middle, I hope you will join me.




Picture Perfect Day

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Sitting at my desk this morning I thought of how yesterday was a picture perfect day. Then I started wondering, what is that? Would I have thought yesterday was a perfect day last month, last year, or better yet, twenty or thirty years ago? Just what does that saying mean to any of us.

Years ago a perfect day would have been spending the day with friends at the lake, enjoying the water, some cold beer, and cooking out.  Other times it would have been a day spent on a river or creek in a canoe or kayak, blasting our way through whitewater rapids.

Other times, such a day would have been spent on my Harley Davidson, getting some wind therapy.

Many times a perfect day would have been a road trip to where ever we ended up in parts unknown, in whatever State I happened to be living. That is also still a picture perfect day for me.

I’ve learned that a perfect day doesn’t always consist of sunshine and light breezes. It doesn’t always start with beautiful sunrises and end with breathtaking sunsets.

A picture perfect day is one that sets your mind at ease. Where your troubles are forgotten and your spirits are lifted. A perfect day will always be remembered. A memory you can call upon that will bring you peace when needed. A day that will always bring a smile to your face.

A picture perfect day will more than likely not be a day of any huge event in your life, but rather a day of fun, love, and laughter. It’s a day that imprints a picture in your memories.

Yes, yesterday was a picture perfect day for me. I spent the afternoon sitting on my front porch enjoying a lovely summer day here in the mountains of northern Georgia. It was the kind of summer day one wishes every day would be like in the South. (Warm but no humidity).  The birds were singing, my dogs at my feet, my husband in the other rocker next to mine, as we spent the afternoon reading and chatting about nothing. The woes of the world far from our minds.  Our few little problems forgotten. We were wrapped in a layer of thankfulness for all the things we enjoy in life and all the wonderful people in our lives.

Many would think yesterday was about as boring as life could get. Years ago I probably would have been one of those people.  But today, yesterday was a picture perfect day.

Waking up this morning is a great start for another great day.


24 and Counting

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For several weeks, the couple on the left kept trying to drive up to Chattanooga, Tennesse from Cullman, Alabama to tie the knot.  Every time we made plans, something would happen, and the trip was canceled.  I was beginning to think someone was trying to tell us something.  I won’t lie, many times during our years together I often wondered if we had done the right thing.

On a rainy day, twenty-four years ago, we finally made our way to Chattanooga. We wouldn’t even get to spend the night, as Kevin was on call that weekend. But it was then or wait the rest of the summer, so off we went in the pouring down rain.

I kept saying that maybe it would clear up by the time we found the courthouse, only to have the clouds hanging lower to the ground and raining harder.

We had filled out the paperwork, paid for our license, found the volunteer preacher, and asked for his services. He said it had stopped raining, would we like to get married outside under one of the enormous trees.  We agreed, making our way out to the little courtyard.

As if someone was sending us a sign from above when we reached the spot designated for ceremonies, the clouds opened up, blue sky appeared, and the sun lit up the skies and our faces.  Short and sweet, Kevin in a T-shirt and blue jeans and me in a T-shirt and shorts.  Afterward, we paid the preacher, signed and received our marriage certificate and was on our way: Mr. and Mrs. Bloodworth.

We opened the doors of the courthouse to leave and stepped out into a downpour. It rained all the way back to Cullman.  We hadn’t been home more than ten minutes, and of course, Kevin’s phone rang, and he had to leave to take care of a problem. Such is the way days are when your husband is working as undercover police.

Our married life has turned out just like that day. Some rain, some thunderstorms, but sunshine during all the critical times.  Have we broken each other’s hearts, of course?  Have there been tears? Sure. Have we wanted to call it quits? Yep.  Have we always liked each other, no? But we have always loved each other.

Love forgives all. Do we have a perfect marriage? Why hell no, we are not perfect people.  Just last night I was told I was being bossy.  My reply was, I can’t do the cooking right now which that means I have to supervise.  Knowing good and well, Kevin is an accomplished cook, I took my leave, sat down and waited for my food.  We are again in the ‘through sickness and in health’ part of marriage, as I just had surgery.

Some days it seems as if we have been together forever, but then I sit and wonder how did twenty-four years pass so quickly.  Would I do it all over again, you bet-cha?  I would like to say, here’s to another 24, but I know that may not happen.  I will say, I love this man more today than I did yesterday.  We will, as with all things, enjoy each day and be thankful for each day and each other.



A Bump in Time or Because of Time


I pride myself in being a pretty hard cookie. I’ve survived car accidents, motorcycle accidents, the 1960’s and 70’s, a stroke, I almost bled to death once, I’ve had a ruptured disc surgery, survived cancer and yet here I go again, with another ruptured disc.

Doctor asked me what the problem was when he put the MRI image on the screen.  I’m thinking, hell, you’re the doctor, you can’t see the problem? I point out the huge bulge of disc material that is pushing on my spinal cord. “Well, Doc, I don’t have an MD after my name but right off that bat, (pointing to the bulge), that stuff there isn’t supposed to be there.”

“You’re right,” he announces.

I’m not going to go into great detail, but my first back surgery in 2000, absolutely sucked. I was in no way looking forward to another back surgery, but I put on my big girl panties and brave face. I was in enough pain and losing control of my right foot and leg to overcome my fear of another surgery.

“No worries, I’ll fix you,” said the doctor.

Day 1, post-op

Since my surgery was afternoon and I would be getting home very late, I opted to spend the night in the hospital.  A night full of poking and prodding by nurses but Morphine came to my rescue. Ah, Morphine, my friend. But Morphine lies to you. He makes you think all is well until he starts to slip away.  By the time I’m ready for discharge and a two-hour ride home, the lying bastard has left me completely.  The kind nurse gives me some Percocet to relieve the pain.  Apparently, part of Morphine had stayed behind and had a fight in my stomach with Mr. Percocet. Mr. Percocet won by throwing Mr. Morphine completely off the premises.  Great, now I have an empty stomach while my husband drives me on a north Georgia mountain road that causes me motion sickness on a good day. I’m a lovely pine green color by the time we made it home.

“Are you hungry?” My caring husband askes? I wonder if he’s cruel or color blind?

My stomach finally stops doing backflips, and I manage to get some dry toast down with some tea. God help me, why did I think it was a good idea to take some more Percocet before I went to bed?

I’m in pain but am terribly happy that the pain isn’t as intense as it was after my first surgery. I still can not find a comfortable position in bed, so I retreat to my recliner. Finally comfortable and the Percocet kicks in. I’m not sick this time but wired from head to toe. I’m tighter than a violin bowstring. I feel like someone shot me full of meth, according to what I’ve read. When I do doze off, I wake up from the pain in my clenching jaws.  All of this and having to go pee every hour isn’t helping me get the rest I need. But I’m tough, yes?

Day 2 Post-op

Yep, I’m tough all right. I spend most of the day recovering from my fitful night fight with my nerves and Mr. Percocet. Mr. Percocet is not my friend. I have banned him from all future visits.

I try to do the physical therapy I was assigned and keep up my small walked around the house. By dinner time I’m shattered. I just want to go to bed but know if I give in so early, I will be awake by 3 am. That will not go well with my nurse. I manage to stay awake until almost 11 pm. I thankfully find Mr. Tylenol PM, and he escorts me through a lovely, peaceful nights sleep.

Day 3 Post-op

I’m feeling so much better. I find it amazing how well one feels with a good nights sleep behind them. The half-mile long incision along my spine now feels like an inch or less. The swelling that felt the size of a watermelon only yesterday is hardly there at all. I’m feeling like a new person. I’m doing my physical therapy, taking my walks, sitting up in the straight chairs and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

WTF was I thinking? By 9 pm, the little voice in my head is saying, “You dumbass! You had to overdo it, didn’t you? You couldn’t just take your time and allow your body to heal at its own pace, could you? For crying out loud, when will you ever learn?”  The voice shut up when Mr. Tylenol PM made his appearance.

Day 4 Post-op

Well, well, well….the I’m not 30 anymore person showed up this morning, allowing the real patient to take over. Although feeling better today, I am confident I learned my lessons. I’m doing my PT, going over the lists of things I can do according to the doctor, not extending the distances or time of doing things, and realizing this healing stuff at my age takes a tad bit longer. Who knew?

With the facts planted deep into my hard head, I will continue on my way to a healthier, improved self. I would tell you how growing old sux, but then growing old is actually relatively enjoyable.

Life is a Precious Thing



Precious adjective: of great value, not to be wasted or treated carelessly.

Noun: used as a term of address to a beloved person, “Don’t be frightened, my precious”

What will it take before you realize your life is precious? Will it be when you are stricken with a deadly disease? When a loved one dies? When you live beyond the years you once thought was when you might die, did you start thinking life was precious?


When I was younger I was so wrapped up in just surviving day to day, making ends meet, and eeking out a living for my family, I never gave thought as to how precious each day is.


We live in a time where we get caught up in the 24/7 news feeds with the talking heads. We spend our time on social media, texting, and messaging not realizing our lives are slipping away.


Each minute we spend looking back is wasted when we should be looking forward. Each hour we hate is an hour we could have been loving. Each day we let go by without telling someone we love them is a day we will never get back.


Soon the minutes, hours and days, add up to weeks, months and years. Did you treat those years with love and kindness? Did you make sure you told someone you love them at every chance? Did you make those phone calls? Did you hold someone’s hand? Did you hold a door open for a stranger?


Our lives are precious, a gift. Be precious to everyone you know and meet. We all can be of great value without being rich and famous. We can make someone’s day by just being nice.


With a world full of hate, be the person people will say of you,  “He or she is precious.”

What do you Believe?


Until people admit the problems we face as a nation and world stems from people and not things, we will never solve anything.  It is beyond my comprehension the reasoning from some people that believe objects are the cause of hate and discontent in our society.

I was told not long ago that my generation is old and our ways are outdated. To that I respond, there were no school shootings by my generation. In fact, some students carried guns in their cars or trucks so they could go hunting after school. We played with toy guns, owned BB guns and learned how to shoot at early ages, depending on where one lived.  There were guns in our homes, some standing behind a door somewhere in the house, or in my father’s nightstand. Same was true for many of my friend’s home.

What does it say for our society that for two generations now, people will take a human life for no reason at all other than revenge over words, or to become famous? Two generations of people that believe society owes them free things. High paying jobs fresh out of school. Two or more generations that will borrow money then refuse to pay the loan back because it’s too much? Two or more generations of mediocre behavior accepted and receiving trophies.

In my generation, not everyone made the team because everyone wasn’t good enough. You were encouraged to practice harder or find something else to try to be better in doing.  Only winners got trophies. Because in the real world of adulthood, not everyone is a winner. It taught us how to handle disappointment. It taught us how to strive to do better. It taught us that although we might not be perfect if we worked hard at something, we would get better.

Nowadays, when someone is disappointed they strike out with any means possible, including grabbing one of their parent’s guns and killing those that had hurt them in some way.

Whether one wishes to admit it or not, society is on the brink of destruction because of human behavior not because we have access to things.  With this said, I’m going to steal the lyrics to a song popular not so long ago that also is fitting for today.

“Eve Of Destruction”

The eastern world it is exploding
Violence flarin’, bullets loadin’
You’re old enough to kill but not for votin’
You don’t believe in war but whats that gun you’re totin’?
And even the Jordan River has bodies floatin’

But you tell me
Over and over and over again my friend
Ah, you don’t believe
We’re on the eve of destruction

Don’t you understand what I’m tryin’ to say
Can’t you feel the fears I’m feelin’ today?
If the button is pushed, there’s no runnin’ away
There’ll be no one to save with the world in a grave
Take a look around you boy, it’s bound to scare you boy

And you tell me
Over and over and over again my friend
Ah, you don’t believe
We’re on the eve of destruction

Yeah my blood’s so mad feels like coagulating
I’m sitting here just contemplatin’
I can’t twist the truth it knows no regulation
Handful of senators don’t pass legislation
And marches alone can’t bring integration
When human respect is disintegratin’
This whole crazy world is just too frustratin’

And you tell me
Over and over and over again my friend
Ah, you don’t believe
We’re on the eve of destruction

Think of all the hate there is in Red China
Then take a look around to Selma, Alabama
You may leave here for four days in space
But when you return it’s the same old place
The pounding of the drums, the pride and disgrace
You can bury your dead but don’t leave a trace
Hate your next door neighbor but don’t forget to say grace

And tell me
Over and over and over and over again my friend
You don’t believe
We’re on the eve of destruction
Mmm, no, no, you don’t believe
We’re on the eve of destruction

To My Younger Self!


As the song said, “Slow down, you move to fast, got to make the morning last!”

From the time I can remember, I was always in a hurry.  Hurry up and start shaving my legs, hurry up and wear makeup, in a hurry to discover boys, hurrying to date, hurrying to be a grown up, hurry up to discover sex, hurrying to do all the adult things that laws said you had to be of a certain age. Hurrying my life away.

Then when I because certain ages, I was still in a hurry.  Mornings turned into high speed chases against the clock to get to work on time, to spend many years in jobs I didn’t like just to get by.  Working several jobs at a time to make ends meet.  Speeding through the weekday to cram every little thing I could possibly think of to have a little fun, if I wasn’t working the second or third job.

Maybe life would have been a little easier if I had just slowed down and continued my education through an university and not through the school of hard knocks.  Or not, I didn’t do all that badly, it just took me longer than most.  Even more educated people than I have tougher lives in their old age. Life never seems to go according to plan.

Through in changing jobs, moving from state to state, marriages, children, divorces, parents that need help, there was always something changing the game plan.  I see now that all of that didn’t really matter if I had only realized that I too could one day live to be this age.  I could have slowed down and enjoyed life more.  All those things that I hurried to do in my youth, which by the way seemed to last until I was almost sixty, I could have done at a much slower pace.

Would have made so many mistakes, who’s to say?  We go forward not backwards.  Now, it does seem that when the clock is ticking away towards the golden age of seventy, I want to hurry again. My clock my well indeed be running out and there is still so much more I want to do in this life. My clock seems to be moving faster while my body and brain seems to move a bit slower everyday.

To my younger self, I would say, “Slow down, enjoy every minute for what it is, not what you wish it to be. ”