The Hula Hoop Challenge; And the Winner Is….;)

I’ve been feeling a bit blue lately, and decided to go through some of my old video’s.  I have a few gems such as this one.  Recorded and uploaded in 2015 I couldn’t help but laugh! Laughter certainly IS good medicine. 😀

My husband is an engineer, but there is this ‘little boy’ in him that comes out around our grandchildren, especially our oldest granddaughter, but ALL the grandchildren gravitate towards him. I do have a cameo appearance here, but my granddaughter and I both lost it when Papa took up the challenge. I was trying so hard not to laugh behind the camera. I treasure these moments in our lives, they pass so quickly.

So, who DO YOU, think won the Hula Hoop Challenge? hahaha

😀

Aging Gracefully

Hi, there folks.

This is me through the years starting as a baby – high school graduation (last picture). A lot of life, love and laughter. I look at these pictures and wonder, where did the time go, and who is that ‘stranger’ looking at me in the mirror every morning and every night: Okay, okay…sometimes I look more often, but at my ‘age’, I see every line and wrinkle; perhaps against all odds, I’m hoping  that the latest ‘anti-wrinkle’ cream I am using is REALLY going to produce a miracle like it says it does. So far, no such luck. Nope. Not til Jesus comes to take me home will I be without ‘spot’ or ‘wrinkle’, says so right there in the Bible. 😉 Well, maybe I’ve taken it out of context…but sometimes if I don’t laugh, I think I might cry, and believe me, after the cataracts came out a couple of years ago, I came close. One day I thought I was looking  pretty good for my age, and the next day ‘bam’, right between the eyes…, I mean right between my eyes, those little crinkly lines, not to mention every crevice and spot on my face suddenly became much clearer! Of course, the up side was seeing colors and everything  more vibrant and alive…who knew that the ‘orange’ facial scrubber I was using, was actually ‘hot pink’, and the shirt I thought was orange was a ‘hot pink’. Thinking how many times I thought I was wearing black with matching black shoes, to find out one was black, the other blue?

Let’s be real here! In a few days I’m going to turn 64 years old. I’m trying to embrace who I am NOW, not yesterday, bite the bullet (we really don’t have a choice), continue to laugh, love and live. The Bible says there’s enough trouble today, so don’t worry about tomorrow (paraphrased), He’s going to be there for all my tomorrows as He was for all my yesterdays, and today! I think it is wise to plan for the future, but it’s never wise to worry (and this is something I have to lay at the feet of Jesus daily…some days I win, others I really struggle).

Forgive me for rambling just a little bit today (you know us ‘old’ folk do that from time to time, eh)? I got to looking at some of these old photos today of myself through different stages of my young life. I started out pretty cute; chubby and wrinkly…and I was thinking to myself, how ironic that I’m probably gonna end up that way too, yeah…chubby and wrinkly, though if someone calls you ‘cute’ when you get older, it’s usually more about your ‘behavior’, or some quirky habit you’ve picked up unknowingly as you’ve aged . Not too long ago I read a police report about an ‘elderly’ woman, 63 or 64 years old, whose car was rammed into by a desperado who was driving a stolen car. I thought to myself, “Elderly?”  What were they ‘talking about?’ I was 63, and that sounded so foreign to my ears! Never would I consider myself or call myself ‘elderly!’ I cringed at the mere thought of being called  elderly at the ‘young age of 63.’   NO WAY was I going to accept what the dictionary (and some of our society) labels ‘elderly!’

eld·er·ly
ˈeldərlē/
adjective
  1. (of a person) old or aging.
    “she was elderly and silver-haired”
    Synonyms:
    aged,
    old,
    advanced in years,
    aging,
    long in the tooth,
    past one’s prime;
    gray-haired,grizzled,
          hoary; in one’s dotage, decrepit, doddering, doddery, senescent;
          getting on,
          past it,
          over the hill,
          no spring chicken
         old people,
         the aged,
         senior citizens;
         geriatrics,
         seniors;
         retired people,
         retirees,
         golden agers;
         oldsters,
         geezers
 ∼

Hmm, Some of these descriptions I can accept, but long in the tooth? Getting on? geezer? decrepit, doddering? I think NOT! Doesn’t sound like me at all, nor most of my ‘elderly’ friends! Not yet anyway, and when that time comes, and I do see it coming, I’ll let you know, or as my sister once said to me, “Don’t call me, I’ll call you!’ 😀  In the meantime, I’m going to dance the dance of life, and celebrate everyday as a gift from God. As His Word says…I will rise up as an eagle, and my youth will be renewed as I wait on the Lord.

In all seriousness, though, aging gracefully is a struggle for many in our youth oriented culture, and has been for me too at times, especially when you feel ‘young’ but the ‘number’ keeps creeping upwards. Inevitably, we all age but one of the most beautiful of women I’ve ever known was my mother…she was graceful, her smile, the way she moved, gentle. She was always there for my siblings and I, and knew when to call and when to come. This is true ageless beauty; to love others and have a giving heart.   God’s word says it best in 1 Peter 3: 3-4:

 3 Don’t focus on decorating your exterior by doing your hair or putting on fancy jewelry or wearing fashionable clothes; let your adornment be what’s inside—the real you, the lasting beauty of a gracious and quiet spirit, in which God delights.

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You Are So Beautiful To Me

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The wrinkles on a time-worn face
Can be symbols of God’s grace,
If through our laughter and our tears
His love has freed us from our fears. —D. De Haan

“Even to your old age, . . . and even to gray hairs I will carry you!” (Isaiah 46:4).

Yes, we can be assured that God will always be with us through every season. My advice: Love Deeply, Forgive Quickly, Laugh Loudly, Be Thankful. In our lives things are constantly changing, but we can be assured that our God NEVER changes and that His love for us is not dependent on our performance, nor what we look like on the outside, or even the crud on the inside. He just loves us. God used this song, ‘I Am’, along with the picture of mama touching my heart gently, to reassure me when I was in the throes of grief, that He is always with me. He is the one constant in life. The words to this song say it all.

I Am

 

Oh gently lay your head
Upon my chest
And I will comfort you
Like a mother while you rest
The tide can change so fast,
But I will stay
The same through the past,
The same in future, same today

CHORUS:
I am constant; I am near
I am peace that shatters all your secret fears
I am holy; I am wise
I’m the only one who knows your heart’s desires
Your heart’s desires

Oh weary, tired and worn,
Let out your sighs
And drop that heavy load you hold
Cause Mine is light

I know you through and through;
There’s no need to hide
I want to show you love
That is deep and high and wide

CHORUS(2x)

Oh gently lay your head
Upon my chest
And I will comfort you
Like a mother while you rest

That we might know Him

I love to worship. There is a lot of ‘ego’ in my opinion, in the worship industry, but as I listened to this song and read Hayley’s blog. I am greatly encouraged. There is a depth and a humility in her words and her lyrics that draw me in and make me want to go higher. Please take the time to read, and to listen…

Hayley Boden's avatarHayley Boden

There was a very difficult period in my life when I felt so incredibly lost and lonely and I didn’t know which direction to turn.

I was suffering from acute anxiety that was crippling me in areas of my everyday life.

To look at me I was the picture of health but inside I was a mess and completely lost.

It wasn’t until I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Saviour that I truly discovered who I was and ‘found myself’ and found fulfillment in Him.

Jesus desired for me to know Him in the same way that He knew me.

Below are lyrics to part of the chorus of the song ‘Know you’:

I was lost but you came to find me

Leaving the many you would come to draw me back to you

I was empty but you came and filled me

In love you opened up my…

View original post 286 more words

View From the Bottom Rung (the life of a scribe)

By Vander H. Atwell.  August 20th, 2016

Hmm. View From The Bottom Rung must be running nigh onto five years to date. Let’s see now, how does one express his heartfelt gratitude for the chance to appear here on this page every other Saturday? Welst, the well-worn old phrase, it’s an honor and a privilege pretty well nails it. A lot of water under the bridge since it began but still ambling along despite the roiling of rivers. Not always easy but we manage.

I do have the best, most approving critic a man could ever hope to have review the final draft before sending over to the good folks at the ’Courier. Each time an article is finished my gal reads it, graciously nods her approval and asks what the next will be about.

You wouldn’t know what a tough question that is to answer most time, and invariably the reply is “I don’t know.” It’s hard for an old guy with only a couple of stories to tell when it all began five years ago to come up with fresh material every two weeks, what with distractions so numerous and interesting that he postpones scribing long as he dares, or simply extends the current project out by making it a bit wordier than perhaps it should be.

Oh, you noticed, eh? The great cowboy philosopher Will Rogers (not to be confused with my friend, local sage and musical entrepreneur Mr. Bill Rogers) once said “Never miss a good chance to shut up,” wise advice one supposes after all rambling on and on means more likelihood of wandering off onto sidebars and less time to began and finish the next text. Despite the uncoupled and misarranged prose we do manage to persist despite an arthritic neck and shoulder compliments of my long career as a logger; hunching over this infernal word processer only serves to agitate and exacerbate a condition brought on by 45 years using myself as a pack animal, forcing the keeping of the pain reliever Tylenol close at hand.

Recently the hocus pocus of politics has been a major distraction from the primary purpose of simply “jawing” with my friends and neighbors. “Hocus pocus” by the way, is a term ordinarily applied to the realm of politics and means ‘tricks used to hide what is happening, especially by distorting the situation and making it difficult to understand’; the constant buzz tends to pull the old gentleman’s focus aside from the chase like a fox hound distracted by a cotton tail rabbit.

There was a time early in life political distractions just didn’t happen, working too hard and much too tired for politics; come election time no question asked, like a loyal and dutiful son I just went to the polls and voted Democrat. And why not, my heritage was Democrat, the political landscape in my place of origin here in the South was Democrat, my grandparents were Democrat, my father, mother and three siblings were Democrat: (well, there was that one sister married to a Republican, a World War II veteran and survivor of the Battle of the Bulge). ’Just say I was “habitized” by tradition into a political philosophy, no hard choices wherewith my conscience to contend. Rather than choosing a political ride by raising its hood, kicking its tires and examining the chassis, t’was the only franchise in town and only modal on the lot.

But now, 17 years into retirement sitting beside the boulevard of humanity’s dreams, watching chariots running to and fro, observing the industry and strivings of my fellow citizens, I sit’s and ponders the debits and the credits of unquestioning obedience to “the faith.”

It’s not that my conscience or philosophy has changed all that much through the years, rather that the political landscape shifted beneath my feet, even before I walked off the job to feast on the fruits of my long labors.

My disputation with the change tends to show up in the heat of this election year battle, where the constant buzz of bizarre machinations tends to distract from sane discourse. Yes, yes, I realize that involving in the chaotic tangle makes me just as zany, but t’was born with a fiery competitive feistiness, and the embers are slow to fade.

No, there’s not a thing to be done about the folly of it all, except “to thy self be true. A song by Larry Gattlin allows that “All the gold in California is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills in someone else’s name” still, one remains “involved” even as coastal tides sweep inland consuming every sacred value and conscientious tradition that made this country and its people great.

Eventually though, we try getting back to more mundane things and focus upon the community around us; things that sustain the soul as life, love – or is that liberty – and the pursuit of happiness; take it from someone on the latter end of a long trail, “pursuit of happiness” becomes more important the less time allotted to the “pursuit.” Admittedly there’s not a whole lot of human interest in such mundane topics as lawn mowing, tree trimming, house washing and flower gardening, yet, in chaotic times we should all be happier to channel our lives in more tranquil directions and occupy ourselves with the comfort of the common and the familiar ere the last embers die and cold of darkness chills flesh to the bone.

Does not the scriptures say that ‘Man does not live by politics alone’? Well, perhaps it should, considering the distracting brouhaha seeping from every crack and corner of our own little domain these days. Then there’s the scriptural suggestion that we “eat, drink, and be merry” for tomorrow, well you get the gist.

Many retirees take up vegetable or flower gardening as a hobby, and as a relief from the tedium of idleness.

When I bought my house in Alma, the appeal of it was a large yard that would need my attention, keep me occupied all toned up and out of trouble. But the main distraction, hobby, whichever we shall call it is/ has been music, especially in the years looking forward to retirement and what to do with idle hands.

But music itself can be a distraction sometime with serious potential for hurt by drawing attention away from demanding activities at hand.

Yes son, some jobs are so dangerous that daydreaming (preoccupation with other things) can be deadly.

Early on in life I fancied myself a guitar picker playing my first gig with a Country Dance band at Susanville California ’way back in 1953. It soon became apparent that I would never become another Chet Adkins, and the fancy only distracted from the responsibility of raising a family. The bars we played were no place for a young man with a start-up family to hang out, and having a wife and child, domestic and financial stability overruled any fanciful strivings or sacrifice for fame and fortune out ’neath those neon lights. I quit my government job, left my budding musical career behind and hit the timber trail, the bluest skies, the freshest air and the most lucrative employment a kid of my humble raisings might find. In retrospect, the danger of it made it a dumb thing for a young greenhorn to do, but then a yearling is never easily advised and what the heck—I did survive.

Today with time on my hands to make music an enjoyable and satisfying hobby, it again becomes a distraction of sorts at least in relation to my uh, “literary contributions” here at the PAC. So much time and effort dedicated to musical venues, projects, practice, etc., and further, the old scribbler has recently been “domesticated” and there’s all those social activities divided betwixt two families and a passel of friends each vying for time and attention within the heart and soul of me. Not much leeway for a column written by a slow plodding thinker and one finger “typer” and no time for thumb twiddling over on social media though admittedly I’m often inclined to that direction. Some might even say addicted.

It has been said that procrastination is the thief of time and lord knows there’s been times I’ve wasted so much time there was little time left to finish an article and get it in in time for publication.

Yes, the laptop upon which I scribe, itself is a major distractor from things more important in life, but I’ve yet to reach the point of insanity: Had lunch over at Chili’s a few weeks back and watched as three different couples came in, ordered, then brought out their iphones and proceeded to ignore each other the entire meal. So much precious time lost when one becomes lost out there in the endless reaches of cyber space.

Today I finish this column five days ahead of schedule, a luxury I tell’s ya! Next due Sept. 3. Time’s a wasting.

Send Your Rain

 

Come and quench this thirsting of my soul, Dear Lord

Heal me

Save me

Let me feel Your gentle rain

upon my face

within my heart

Wash me clean

Remove the sludge:

the sorrows and the cares

of this world

that have kept me from moving forward

My hope is in You

In You alone

Like a refreshing rain

saturate me in Your Love 

and in Your Presence

Let me not lose heart

in the storm

You are my Portion

The Lover of my Soul

The Joy of my Desire

My Deliverer

My Strong Tower

In You I live and move and breathe

I will Praise You with My whole heart

My Prince of Peace

 

 

Humility

Humility is perfect quietness of heart. It is to expect nothing, to wonder at nothing that is done to me, to feel nothing done against me. It is to be at rest when nobody praises me, and when I am blamed or despised. It is to have a blessed home in the Lord, where I can go in and shut the door, and kneel to my Father in secret, and am at peace as in a deep sea of calmness, when all around and above is trouble.”
― Andrew Murray

 

Having Done All… Stand

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I AM STANDING

I HAVE THE VICTORY 

NO WEAPON FORMED AGAINST ME SHALL PROSPER

I AM AN OVERCOMER

I CAN DO ALL THINGS THROUGH CHRIST WHO STRENGTHENS ME

I WILL LIVE AND NOT DIE

I WILL PROCLAIM THE GOODNESS OF THE LORD

I WILL NOT BE MOVED BY WHAT I SEE IN THE NATURAL

I WILL STAND UPON HIS WORD: THE SWORD OF TRUTH

I WILL REJOICE IN THE LORD

FOR HE HAS HEARD MY CRY

AND HE HAS DELIVERED ME

Ephesians 6: 10-18 (AMP)

10 In conclusion, be strong in the Lord [be empowered through your union with Him]; draw your strength from Him [that strength which His boundless might provides].

11 Put on God’s whole armor [the armor of a heavy-armed soldier which God supplies], that you may be able successfully to stand up against [all] the strategies and the deceits of the devil.

12 For we are not wrestling with flesh and blood [contending only with physical opponents], but against the despotisms, against the powers, against [the master spirits who are] the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spirit forces of wickedness in the heavenly (supernatural) sphere.

13 Therefore put on God’s complete armor, that you may be able to resist and stand your ground on the evil day [of danger], and, having done all [the crisis demands], to stand [firmly in your place].

14 Stand therefore [hold your ground], having tightened the belt of truth around your loins and having put on the breastplate of integrity and of moral rectitude and right standing with God,

15 And having shod your feet in preparation [to face the enemy with the [a]firm-footed stability, the promptness, and the readiness [b]produced by the good news] of the Gospel of peace.

16 Lift up over all the [covering] shield of [c]saving faith, upon which you can quench all the flaming missiles of the wicked [one].

17 And take the helmet of salvation and the sword that the Spirit [d]wields, which is the Word of God.

18 Pray at all times (on every occasion, in every season) in the Spirit, with all [manner of] prayer and entreaty. To that end keep alert and watch with strong purpose and perseverance, interceding in behalf of all the saints (God’s consecrated people).

It Is Well/ You Make Me Brave

There are times when a song will go to the depths of my heart and touches my spirit in a very profound way.  It draws me into His Presence.

 

“It Is Well”

Grander earth has quaked before
Moved by the sound of His voice
Seas that are shaken and stirred
Can be calmed and broken for my regardThrough it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
Through it all, through it all
It is well

Through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
It is well with me

Far be it from me to not believe
Even when my eyes can’t see

And this mountain that’s in front of me
Will be thrown into the midst of the sea

Through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
Through it all, through it all
It is well

So let go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name [repeat last line during 3rd run]
[x3]

It is well with my soul
It is well with my soul
It is well with my soul
It is well with my soul
[repeat 3x]

It is well it is well with my soul [x3]
ahhhhhhh (softly)

Through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You Lord
Through it all, through it all
It is well with me.

When The Struggle is Real

I haven’t blogged for a few days as it’s been a real struggle, not because of a brain freeze, or lack of oxygen (low blood sugar), or writers block …but mostly because of health issues stemming from Type 1 (insulin dependent) diabetes. I am on an insulin pump, and was actually one of the first 700 people at the time to get hooked up. The pump was huge compared to what I share in the video below (see the picture at the left of your screen, that’s me in the blue, and that SONY DSCblack thing on my side is my first pump). It was so big, people asked me if it was a pager (that’s a big pager), or some kind of radio. You can see in the video below, how much smaller the pump has become. I was thrilled as the size of the pumps began to decrease in size and the technology became more and more fine tuned.

I was probably about 28 or 29 years old when I first started on the pump; our eldest was about two years old (pictured on my husbands shoulders). Our first baby, born 8 lbs 4oz, was stillborn, which had left me wondering if I would ever be able to have a healthy child . In the video below, after sharing some humorous  idiosyncrasies about myself, I shared a bit about that time of loss in our lives. I had not expected to feel the emotional wave that hit me as I recalled the day of delivery. We had known for a week that our precious baby was gone before the scheduled delivery date at the hospital.  Needless to say, it was an extremely sorrowful time. Thank God, we did not give up, and we were finally blessed with two boys, albeit 7 years apart. I am ever so grateful to be a mom (for the most part, “she said with a wink and a smile”). 😉  Motherhood hasn’t always been easy or a ‘breeze,’ especially as they entered the teen years and beyond, but that’s another story or two, for another time. 🙂 Just being real here. Would I do it all again? 100 times over, “YES!”

So, back to why I haven’t blogged, and my own personal struggle…having used insulin pump therapy for about 30+ years, and having wonderful results, I now find myself plagued with all kinds of issues that I never really had before: Extreme highs, and extreme lows.  It started a few months ago, and my overall A1c (blood glucose average over a 3 month period) was hanging around 7.0, which is relatively good. I can’t even imagine what it is now after all I’ve been through these last months. I have never had to call the ambulance except once in all my 50+ years of being a diabetic, but at the end of last December my sugars dropped to 21, and knowing if it drops to 0 you are comatose, your out for the count, no longer here. I could feel myself blacking out, and as I looked up at the nice paramedic, I kept saying over and over…” Please don’t let me die.” He assured me I was going to be fine, but in the back of my mind I thought, he has to say that even if he doesn’t mean it. I have never felt so out of control and vulnerable.  I ended up in the hospital the next day for about three days. From that point on I’ve had trouble stabilizing my blood sugars. In January it happened again, and I ended up in the hospital as my blood sugars kept plummeting no matter how much sugar I had taken by mouth or how much glucose they stuck in my veins. Talk about a ‘sugar rush!’ Since that time, the blood sugars have been extremely high. Last night, my blood sugars reached 490, and target rate for my sugars, being I’m diabetic, are between 100 and 150.  Rarely has my blood sugar been lower than the 200’s since my last hospital visit. Long term health issues can result from poorly controlled blood sugars. I’m eating what I should eat, I’m testing several times a day, and still sugars are climbing,  though they tend to drop some during the evening. Night time is one of my biggest concerns if and when my sugars happen to drop while I’m asleep; this is what had happened the first time I called the ambulance. I can tell you from experience, fear can come in from such traumatic episodes, and it can rob you of your joy and peace in a very subtle way. That’s where I found myself lately…

This week I was so overwhelmed that I told my husband I would not be going to Mid week services at church. I knew what I had to do, I had to go to our room, close the door, put on worship music and cry out to God. I sat there with my head back and I sobbed all my frustration and grief out to the Lord. One of my friends had told me that she had felt God saying to me, let go, free fall, let God carry me through this time and just trust Him.

As, I sat in my room that night, A song by Bethel Worship, began to play called ‘It is Well With My Soul.’  As I listened, I continued to weep and pray. I told God, “I can’t do this by myself anymore”. I hadn’t even realized until that point, that I was carrying the weight of so many losses and unmet expectations from the last several years. All I could muster was, “Help me Lord, I Need You.”  I felt this ball of grief and sorrow come up out of my heart that I know had been stuck there for a long time. God began to bring to my mind those things that I had been holding onto; grief over my mother who had passed away two years ago, losses and unmet expectations, wounds that were still like arrows in my heart, concerns about my grown children and grandchildren, and so forth and so on. When the tears subsided a bit, I grabbed my ‘Passion Translation’, of the Psalms. I felt led to begin a prayer journal with at least one Psalm a day, where I can just pour out my heart to God. I am more than hopeful for what lies ahead. I already feel a sense of release from the burden of what I was carrying, but I know that it is one step at a time, one day at a time. I’m learning to ‘free fall’ into His loving arms; He will always and HAS always been there to catch me.

 

God has always used humor to help me through many difficult times. Learning to laugh at myself, to be transparent and real is a must for me.

Scattershot

Scattershot / View From the Bottom Rung (Vander H. Atwell) 

Dictionary.com. Scattershot: Something delivered over a wide area and at random: Merriam Webster: ‘Broadly, and often randomly inclusive. Collins English Dictionary: ‘A scattershot approach or method involves doing something to a lot of things or people in a disorganized way rather than focusing on particular things or people’. Oh yes, one more. Ask/define: Scattershot is the name of a fictional character in something called the ‘Transformer Universe’. (Following a short research, the ‘Transformer Universe’ seems to be a creation of Marvel Comics, but with a short glance at the technical outlay of it’s complicated schemes, a spinning head indicated symptoms of vertigo and the inquiry had to be shut down). Not sure I could ever master the mechanics of it, or explain it even if I did, but. Within the Transformer Universe, the character Scattershot is described as ‘the aggressive and argumentative leader of the ‘Technobots’, who has the magical (or mechanical) ability to transform into a spaceship as well as a cannon emplacement or whichever, in accordance to the circumstance, ergo, one suspects ‘Scattershot’ comes in bits and pieces, with some assembly required–or desired. (Technobots are a subgroup of five ‘Autobots’ that transform into futuristic vehicles in the transformer universe. Got that? Simple really.)

Desperately trying to contact my Niece, science fiction writer Ms. Tracy Sue, in hopes of having this all sorted out and explained in a manner (if there be one) graspable of an aging mind not accustomed to the tech- speak of cyber civilizations; fearful though, that the key to interpretation lies with the Rubic Cube that is the politics of Washington DC.

Hmm. But I digress? Pause, whir and click; does anyone have the foggiest of where this is going? Neither do I, really. ‘Thought it featured a man with a plan, but now not so sure. Of course, readers of this column will be quick to point out that it’s not the first time the narrative showed signs of inebriation, fell apart or wandered off the reservation. A bushel of things to talk about and so little time and space to do it that fitting it all in seems beyond the capacity of one small column restricted to only a third of a news publication. But we try. Perhaps, a voice might gain greater amplification and weight if it became purely political, ran for public office and learned how to cuss.

Welst, for sure the prognosticator is not some metallic super creature comprised of several detachable parts that assembles itself, into whatever configuration the circumstance may demand. Truth is, the title ‘scattershot’ is chosen ‘cause “scatterbrained” doesn’t ‘zactly reflect the kind of lofty sophistication we strives to achieve.

Rather: We shall go with Mr. Collins, English Dictionary definition of scattershot as “an approach or method that involves doing something to a lot of things or people in a disorganized way, than focusing on a particular thing—or people.”

Verbosity, that’s me to a T; an argumentative sort, meandering about provoking passion and commotion amongst commotional people. Well maybe. Want an unbroken narrative loyal to a specific cause tune to this page next week.

Actually, the old ‘scriber’ just tries to figure things out, to process a variety of information garnered from various sources, overlay it with personal experience and a lifetime of observing the landscape. Presto! Insightful perspectives into anything and everything from A to Z, dissecting philosophies we haven’t a clue about or ever knew existed. And do it all within a paragraph or two.

We do have our critics. (Depending on the politics). While words of encouragement for whatever it is that we do here on this page bolsters my ‘amour-propre’ and sparks a bit more swagger to the old roosters strut, there are rumors that for some, in some quarters of some societies, ‘verbose’ meanderings are not so greatly appreciated. Brevity, I am told, is the ‘soul of wit.’ (Not that I ever thought of myself as being witty’)

Having sat through countless hours of countless preachers holding countless pews hostage to endless exhortation, enduring long-winded lectures by long-winded Dirksenesque politicians, I am well aware of the definition of both the terms ‘verbose’ and ‘bloviate’ and completely understand why a boisterous harangue might drive those who feel lectured to ‘wits end.’ But, since the critic is also a member of a verbose community willing to dispense with due process to achieve a political end, we shall pick up the pen and press on. “Wit” so defines the dictionary, is the ‘keen perception and cleverly apt expression of those connections between idea’s that awaken amusement and pleasure.’

But: whether the writer is ‘known’ for his ‘keen perception,’ whether his purpose for writing, whether he be witty or witless, whether his ideas, opinions or philosophies awaken amusement and pleasure in the mind of the reader, does it matter at all in the process of political discourse, the style or fashion of his work in an unrelated enterprise? What has ‘a’ to do with ‘z’ in the context of a narrative other than both are members of the same alphabet? And what has a worm in the apple to do with the texture of an orange over there in another orchard? Shouldn’t differences of opinion be argued upon the merits of that debated and not degrade to an ‘up front and personal’ attack on the character of the arguer?

Verity (defined as the quality of being true, honest or real) isn’t established upon whether a person is witty or not witty, educated or uneducated, whether one has exceptional intellectual qualities or exists as a bumbling simpleton, just as factuality in a court of law is not determined by running an IQ test on the witness. Neither is distrust, suspicion, or ones emotional involvement in the process grounds enough to indict anyone for anything at all.

Whether witty or witless, what has a ‘wordy’ newspaper column to do with comments in an unrelated forum dealing with an unrelated matter, i.e. rejecting the proposed indictment (impeachment) of a U.S. President for a crime no one is sure has been committed?

This writer’s dissenting opinion appeared in a public forum the middle of May after a poll reported that 43 percent of people surveyed wanted Congress to begin impeachment proceedings against President Donald Trump. For what, they could not decide, only that he must be guilty of—something.

Call for impeachment was instigated by the usual media and partisan provocateurs all whipping up the hopes and emotions of people clueless of, or willing to override both the political and constitutional process that promotes stable governments.

Urban Dictionary defines such as ‘reality challenged’ i.e. ‘a state in which one is utterly and completely incapable of distinguishing which is fact and which is fiction, which is ‘Shinola’ and which isn’t.

My own proposition publicly stated and based upon my understanding of what America is and what it isn’t, is that impeachment is a political process that requires evidence of a previously designated offense and should not be the result of a call to crucify for political reason, for a Presidents bad manners, because certain view him as a ruffian, or that we imagine him insane. Further I opined, that as a Republican congress found much to their chagrin when impeachment charges were filed against Bill Clinton, it takes more than a President’s personal rascality to usher him out the door down the street.

Nowhere have I given ‘Mr. Trump a pass’ as thus far none of several investigations have shown he committed a crime; neither was advocated that any U.S. President at all is above the law or that inquiry’s of Russian interference in a U.S. Presidential election should end. Only that impeachment, should it ever happen, will not happen just to placate someone’s prejudiced yearnings, or because rabblerousing partisans want it to happen or believe it should happen. Is there smoke? Perhaps, but we shall exhibit a modicum of sobriety and be content to wait for the ‘fire.’

Crafty schemes, plots and intrigues:

I have always been intrigued by the eccentricities and machinations of myself, and my fellow man; how we as intelligent creatures allow our emotions to pull us aside from the narrative into the silliness of our own private foibles and obsessions. Why would anyone at all, having been countered, reach beyond a difference of political opinion and accuse a dissenter of being ‘unpatriotic’? (‘Someone that simply cannot imagine anything other than pledging allegiance to a political party’) “They are, (continuing) thankfully, a rapidly shrinking minority, lets put these ‘hardliners’ in perspective and realize that they worship their Party above all else.”

And we wonder; has due process (Fair treatment through the normal judicial system, especially as a citizens entitlement) fallen from grace, are these people aware of what due process is, that it lies as the very foundation of our culture government and society, and if so knowing, do they really care? And has political angst so twisted our analytical abilities we cannot see the same faults within our own bosom we so readily attribute to others?

However it is, in the pursuit of wit, ere the column grows weary and long, I shall forthwith retreat into the Transformer Universe of Scattershot ‘till which time, there is more time and one finds it convenient to reassemble and reconstitute in accordance to the circumstance, whichever the circumstance be. Meanwhile, let us pray that those who cherish due process are not a diminishing culture, as suggested.

Vander H. Atwell….July 22, 2017