It has come to my attention that congress has failed to pass any of the budget items on its agenda. Furthermore, it has failed to take action on numerous politically uncomfortable issues placed before it.
Those of us with a history of being sceptical, and casting questioning glances toward congress can easily see what they are trying to accomplish here. Its been done before. Before the election, they spend, spend, and spend again on pet projects, and special interest bills to help them get elected, so that when that fateful day in November comes, they artfully place blame on someone else for the lack of action, and all the while tooting their horn on the wonderful job they have done for the country, and how much more is left to do. When they are safely back in their re-elected safety seats, they quietly pass all the uncomfortable bills, driving the deficit sky high.
To paraphrase a line from the michael douglas movie, they are so busy trying to keep their jobs, they forgot to do their jobs.
The opposite of pro is con, the opposite of progress, is congress.
Some time ago, a pair of blue scissortails built a nest by our front door. Days passed as one by one they carefully gathered materials, and placing them just so, moved into their new abode under our front porch. The entire family became interested in the progress of this miracle of nature taking place before our eyes. We sent out progress reports, and when our adult children asked about "how the birds were doing", we would tell the latest news about momma bird doing this.., daddy bird doing that..., and all about whether or not there were eggs, etc etc.
Weeks passed, and one day the miracle happened. On this paticular evening we noticed both parent birds fly to the nest, then fly off quickly. "oh my god" my dear wife exclaimed, "they're feeding the little birdies". Sure enough when you looked closely you could see several little birdie beaks peaking over the side of the nest, and in birdie talk, cheeping, "mom, I'm hungry". When adult birds feed their young, they go out to a birdie restaurant, eat their fill, they come home, and puke up their dinner for the young to eat. Knowing this makes me very glad I am not a bird. This act of feeding the chirping little ones went on for several weeks, and to my amazement, the little ones grew steadily. We would watch, as the little ones would exercise their wings, preparing to fly, and all the while getting fed every evening from the parent birds.
One afternoon, our grandchildren were visiting, and we noticed only one bird in the nest. Another miracle, the young had flown, except for one. We saw what was apparently one of its siblings fly close to the nest, hover for a moment, then fly off. Whether it was encouragement, or "ha ha, look what I can do," I cannot say, but more than one sibilng was engaged in this little drama, and every time one of the sibings would fly and hover, the lone straggler would open its little beak, expecting to be fed, only to have its brother, or sister fly off. It only took a couple of hours of this torment, when the lone staggler flew off to find its destiny. After seeing the last bird fly, the other three siblings couldn't get back to the nest fast enough. There was mass confusion as the fourth bird realized it was being upstaged by the other three, and all the while momma bird, and daddy bird had flown the coup, and apparently had a place in a nearby tree that wasn't inhabited by four arguing babies. It was near dark when the arguement over the empty nest was settled, and all four baby birdies had gotten mad, and left.
So we are now the proud owners a slightly used Birdie condo, in good condition, in a good neighborhood, for rent or lease at a reduced rate. I must say I kind of feel sorry for the parent birds, watching their children grow, being proud of their accomplishments, planning their future, only to have them argue over ownership of the home, and make things so miserable that mom, and dad had no option but to move out. My only hope is that this doesn't happen to me.
I sat by the window this morning, and watched as a slow rain fell on the small Texas farming community that is my home. I drank my coffee, watched the birds in their morning routine, saw an early riser leaving for work, and thought of my many blessings. This one most of all, to have the time to watch the world go by, and contemplate. I love my wife dearly, my children, and grandchildren, but I treasure my time alone. In this society of instant access everything, so many are never truly alone. The Declaration of Independance was written by a man alone. In silence, we hear the still, quiet voice of our own creative spirit.
A term that is so over used these days is "soul mate". This term actually refers to the moment of creation. The spirit of God, the creator of all things, split into two parts, these two became four, and on to become all the spirits living now. Soul mates are created when a single soul becomes two. Two halves that make a whole being. It is perhaps sad that the term has been reduced to someone on a computer dating site.
As I sat, and listened to the sound of the world, I wondered about choices. The turn of a single key, the speaking of a single word, a look, can change our life forever. The choice to pursue a certain lovely young cowgirl many years ago, changed my life forever, and extended the line of my family down through the ages.
Many years ago, in the days before Texas was a republic, a group of men in Gonzales were faced by a contingent of soldiers. There was a choice to make, fight, or run. One man made his choice. He set to light a six pounder, and the revolution began, which became the Republic of Texas. Life is about choices.
A slow rain fell this morning, and as the sun hides his face behind the clouds, I make an important choice. pancakes. Yep, today, I make pancakes.
