Remembering the Past 8-4-2019

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This is a noble statue, but not everybody agrees with me. There is a movement in the United States to tear down and destroy monuments honoring the memory of who we once were. Some claim the statues are racist because they honor the heroes of the Civil War, but whomever the man on the horse is, he gave up his home and family to support the beliefs of his Country.

This statue happens to be General Lee, but it could represent Everyman. Whether or not, Everyman wore blue or grey, he was a hero and he should be remembered, and honored, as such.

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Slavery is horrible, and that doesn’t change just because it was a hundred years ago. But, we have to remember, slavery has been around as long as man. Every race and creed has probably been subjected to slavery at one point or another. It was not right, but it was who we were. It is also not right for us to try to destroy and hide the actions of the past, no matter if we agree with them or not.

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The issue, though, isn’t really past slavery as much as some people would have us believe. Every man, woman and child has the right to defend their beliefs. Some people still carry the Slavery Badge, but I can’t help but think it is no longer about slavery but entitlement. Slavery was wrong, but dwelling on the past is a sure path to destruction.

Blacks were considered less than human. So were the Jews in the Holocaust. The mentally ill. Should we tear down all the memorials to the Holocaust? Should we forget what happened?

What about the America Indians? The memorials to Rome? After all, Rome embraced slavery.

If we tear down the memorials and reminders of the past, we will also forget the horrors of the past. And, if we forget, I guarantee you we are bound to make the same mistakes in the future.

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There is still slavery in this world for men, women and children. Why is this less horrendous to the modern us than the men and women of yesterday? They fought. Are we? Are we standing in line to save the women and children being trafficked as sex slaves? The men smuggled into our country to spend the reminder of their lives working to pay off the smugglers.

The Civil War is part of who we are and who we will be tomorrow and in a hundred years. Trying to wipe it under the rug doesn’t change the facts.

If we hide the past, we will forget the past. If we forget the past, we will relive the past. If we relive the past, how many more will die?

“A Virginia judge has ruled that statues of Confederate generals Robert E. Lee and Thomas J. “Stonewall” Jackson in Charlottesville are war monuments that the city cannot remove without permission from the state.

In a nine-page ruling obtained from the University of Virginia School of Law website, Circuit Court Judge Richard E. Moore said neither the intentions of the people who erected the statues nor how they make people feel change the fact that the statues pay homage to the Civil War. Moore cited state code in his ruling that says it is illegal for municipalities to rove such monuments to war.”

(Written Memorial Day 2019)


Friday Fictioneers 10-3-2017

He watched the island falling behind, harvest moon rising over the land like an omen.

“I will never come back here,” he said aloud, repeating the words in his mind. Never come back.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t do his duty. He would. Bravely and proudly, he would serve his country.

But, his eyes remained fixed on the island growing smaller in their wake, smudged to nothing by falling dark.

Soon it was gone.

He turned away, letting go of what he had lost forever.


His mother held the flag from his coffin like she once held her son.

He was home.


Sunday Photo Fiction 10-4-2017

Taxidermy fox at Natural History Museum, London


“Poor little fellow,” Johnny remarked, peering in at the taxidermied fox behind the glass. He wondered how long had been dead; why somebody decided to stuff it and put it in a museum. Wouldn’t it be better to see the fox alive, in the wild?

Dan shrugged. “It’s just a dog.”

“Fox,” Johnny corrected.

“Whatever. Come on, I want to get some chips before we go back to the bus.”

That had been Senior Year, twenty years past, but he still remembered the dead fox. He had no idea if Dan had gotten his chips, but the blank look on the fox’s face had stayed with him all those years.

Putting his binoculars back up to his eyes, he watched the kids tumbling and playing around the den.  Mother fox lay nearby, guarding her kids from that dead fox, twenty years in the past, blank eyes staring into nothing.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 3-26-2017


Guide for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

1. A prompt photo will be provided each Tuesday to be used as a base to your story. Please include photo prompt with your story.

2. Linking for this challenge begins on Tuesday and runs to the following Monday evening.

3. Please credit photo to photographer.

4. The story word limit is 100 – 150 words (+ – 25 words). Please try to stay within this limit.


photo-20170320154625492This week’s photo prompt is provided by Sunayana MoiPensieve.

 The musician played alone, cased instruments tic-tac-toed around him on the rough cobbled-stone street. Nobody else had shown, so he knew they were gone. Soon it would come for him, center square for the win. Playing, he was safe, but already his fingers bled and stumbled on the strings.

How long?

A few watchers lingered, but only a few. Most had turned alway, headed back to warm houses and hot meals. Comedies on TV. Game boards scattered. Warm bathwater splashed across tiled floors.

Around him, the instruments began to fade. David’s guitar. Susan’s violin. Jack’s cello.

He played faster, racing time against memory, but soon no longer saw his own fingers. Strings sliding into nothing. Hands. Arms. Feet. Legs. Body. Fading. Fading. Fading.


When dusk fell, he was gone. As dark dropped, his guitar, the last guitar, faded to nothing.

A chill wind swept the street, brushing away dust and memory.