Six Sentence Story- Given the Chance

PROMPT WORD:  STRIKE

8:05 am- Daniel knew serious trouble was brewing on the crime ravaged side street and patted his holstered revolver beneath his shirt while speeding up to avoid the impending mayhem and get to work on time.

When he opened his eyes, he could see three EMTs frantically working on someone below him as he seemed suspended in midair.

The last thing he remembered was riding his bicycle along the city street and hearing a succession of fireworks? … no, gunshots!

A woman’s anguished scream drew his attention to a limp bloody baby being placed in tiny body bag while police formed a human perimeter holding back a gathering crowd.

He regretted immediately his reluctance to stop and attempt to protect the vulnerable innocent people who were caught unaware and unarmed, so he decided to strike a bargain and declared, “Lord, give me another chance to save that baby… I care not what happens to me but let me do what’s right!”.

8:06 am- Daniel knew serious trouble was brewing on the crime ravaged side street and patted his holstered revolver beneath his shirt while skidding his bicycle to a halt…


https://girlieontheedge1.wordpress.com/2022/06/26/sundays-six-sentence-story-word-prompt-218/
https://girlieontheedge1.wordpress.com/2022/06/29/its-six-sentence-story-thursday-link-up-218/

Six Sentence Story- Control- The Talk

PROMPT WORD:  CONTROL

I’m about to lose control!

What’s wrong?

Roe V Wade may be rescinded, and then all of the people in each State will get to vote on whatever abortion restrictions they want causing women to have difficulty getting abortion on demand!

Shouldn’t everyone get to vote on such a serious topic in the way the Constitution prescribes rather than allowing nine people to decide for the whole population?

Men shouldn’t have ANY control over women’s reproductive choices!

Um, you can’t be serious… It was men who wrote and confirmed Roe V Wade in the first place and, last I checked, men play a role in reproduction too although judging by the tragically high number of abortions, self-control and birth control ought to be the more urgent focuses of both sexes.

War on Punks

English: Suspect in a possible hate crime in V...
English: Suspect in a possible hate crime in Vancouver . (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

http://www.foxnews.com/us/2013/08/21/police-say-teen-shot-australian-student-in-oklahoma-for-fun-it/

The link above is to the recent news article about the tragic killing of an Australian young man by some “punks” who were reportedly bored. The news media has offered many reasons for this atrocity. To name a few:

  • The US gun culture…
  • A racial hate crime…
  • Violence inspired by game playing…

I believe that I stumbled upon the real deeper cause when I commented in a reaction to this horror … “We need a “war on punks”!”
A punk, in my mind, is a young male who is striving for manhood by means of intimidation and violence.
Sadly, and dangerously, our society has lost the traditional definition of manhood.
Some of the reasons are economic but many stem from a “watering down” of the roles men play. Confused? So are our sons.
Back in the day, men were the providers of protection and the essentials for family survival. Since caveman times, the males had a clear role and spent (testosterone inspired) energy to fill that position.
Enter the women’s movement, government assistance, modern conveniences, absentee fathers and unemployment and you have idle time in the hands of males without direction.
Remember, to every action comes an equal and opposite reaction?
The women’s movement was a GOOD thing. This is not a puritanical conservative documentary, in the least. It is, however, a thoughtful wondering about the male experience in an attempt to shed light on a grave predicament in our culture.
“What makes a man?”
Punks seem to believe it is an adrenaline rush inspired by a dangerous act.
How did that happen?

First, we have taken the pointed scissors away from kids. That’s right. This cushioned, ultra-safety oriented, society has had a hand in making boys into sissies. Their confidence and male bravado has no inspiration.
I asked a 10-year-old to help me with lawn mowing, the other day. He said he’d never been asked. There must be a warning label, somewhere, which claims that my suggestion was illegal! (ATVs have labels too. “No one under twelve can operate them.” Funny though, the youth-sized ones are generally too small for most twelve-year-olds.)

Secondly, fatherhood is a duty not a choice. Modern society has lost sight of that in a nutshell. Boys need quality men to show them how to become men of quality.

Thirdly, Idle time and video game playing are not allowing for physical exertion. Scientifically, the lack of physical exertion MUST have an adverse effect upon testosterone fueled adolescents! I’m sure there is a study somewhere which would verify that adrenaline is a necessary drug in a young man’s life.

There must be a way to counteract the poisonous conditions of our sons’ environments.
Sports teams are one way. But many have not the means, nor interest, to take part in sports.
May I suggest, that in dealing with boys who have been expelled from or have dropped out of school, who have had scrapes with the police or are members of gangs, that we seriously entertain a type of boot camp. (Yes, those who have no pre-existing  disability, only.)
Of course, the boot camp would be the bottom line but they could be exempt from going if they entered a mentor program or volunteered in community service opportunities.

NOW, the race card would be thrown at this idea. The chances are, the black community would be in high attendance. (Unemployment and absentee fathers the catalyst.) BUT, instead of thinking this was an effort to marginalize minorities…why wouldn’t we consider it helping where the help is most needed?

These are just infant ideas for a possible cause and solution for a deep problem that just won’t be going away. What do you think?

Boys to Men

So few people pay attention to trees because, well, they are the strong silent types. If you never have cut them down or even have sat and marveled about them, they don’t become part of a person’s consciousness until they fall. Our storm has made a few folks take notice for sure.
Although cutting down trees looks easy, it is one of the most dangerous of activities. The seasoned (pun intended) lumberjack takes a long look at the tree… how it is leaning, its weight and height, and flaws that might cause it to crack prematurely. These are very important variables to study. Lumberjacks deal with gravity, as often as, skydivers!
I don’t think I’ll ever relax when I watch a tree being cut down but it is an exciting event, none the less. It is an endeavor that can claim or maim a novice in the same way catching rattlesnakes can. If you live long enough , maybe, what you know can keep you from harm.
In general, men are a foolhardy bunch. Just watch the TV shows devoted to fatal accidents and see how many women are involved for that statistic. There’s nothing like the cutting down of a tree to bring all the “boys” out for fun. You can almost smell the testosterone.
I must admit the element of danger arouses my interest too but I’m around several men who KNOW what they are doing and it is inspiring to watch. Being a “country mouse” gives me great pride. Real men can watch their kids AND cut down trees, in my opinion. There’s a pervasive attitude about “education” and “degrees” in our country that overlooks the intelligence of life experience. No wonder manhood has become so blurred when the “city boys” have so few survival skills beyond gang activity. I’d like them all to have a stint in the country to see what “real” men do. In fact, I buy flowers every Spring from a school for troubled kids. It is a working farm and greenhouse that introduces city kids to hard work and getting their hands dirty. They seem to prosper under those conditions.
So, when I see an “educated” blowhard looking down his nose at a common man, it makes me want to ask him to build a house, run a backhoe or cut down a tree. HA!

Click my link for a short home video…

Tree Cutters

My Handle on Anger

I don’t like feeling angry. It is an emotion that I have suppressed for most of my life. It sounds as though I think it has no value. It does. Problem is, I am unfamiliar with how to manage it.

I’m reminded of a scene from the Honeymooners. Ralph and Alice are arguing, as usual, about their finances. Ralph accuses Alice of not being able to handle money. Her brilliant reply:

“Of course I don’t, I’ve never had any practice!”

Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling about anger. Once released, though, it inwardly consumes me. Watching a Dirty Harry movie used to do the trick. I’d grit my teeth right along with Clint Eastwood as he squeezed the trigger. That “punk” was the embodiment of all the wrongs I had felt.

As a woman, my days are filled with tiny sacrifices. Martyrdom is not what this is about. I am very happy to create happiness and contentment, when I am able, but those little sacrifices serve as gasoline on my fire once anger comes out to play. It’s not important to list every single sacrifice. All you need to know is every single decision has a “pecking order” and I’m always last on the list. I KNOW…I don’t need to put myself there.

I care for kids…demanding little angels who are good reasons for some of my sacrifice. Believe me, I have a favorite comment for those who demand too much, too soon. “Do I look like I’m busy?” The problem with that statement is all too clear when I try to relax. “You don’t look busy now?” is what I will be reminded. And, the demand, although not granted every time, still rests on my shoulders as a demand.

Still, that alone does not anger me. But, with the daily demands ever fresh, my family comes home. Not only do I mange kids, I am command central for the family. “Any messages or phone calls?” “Where’s my blue jacket?” “When’s supper?” …you get the picture.

By day’s end, I have a goal, a picture in my head, of me with a book on my couch. I hang on to that picture. The phone may ring…the dog needs to go out and in and out…I may finally sit down and feel sweet release only to notice I have misplaced my glasses OR that the kids have found a unique place for them. All this, I assure you, I can handle.

Then, my husband turns on the TV. He skips from one political propaganda station to the next. A commercial for the ASPCA comes on. I try not to listen but I cannot completely tune it all out. NOW, I’m angry!

It wasn’t one single event but the sum total.

I guess the part that is so sad is that I don’t show it. But lately, there is so much buried that there’s no room for more. I won’t ever take it out on the kids or dog. I’m tempted to take the batteries out of the TV remote though.

I feel better now. Just from the release of my anger in writing. I don’t like to feel angry. I am a very tolerant person. But, if you feel the need to cross me, there’s a poignant question you should ask yourself:

Do you feel lucky PUNK?