"You are one fine lady, of course then again, you may be the Antichrist"



While it was unseasonably warm for Kentucky in December, Saturday was a day well spent equally balancing years past and dreams to come.
Normally, Saturday's are not special. SSDD. Usually, we can be found hanging out with friends and playing cards etc. New Year's Eve was not really that different. The day started off rather tense. Brinton and I attended the memorial for John Morton. Emotions were rampant at not only the loss of this husband, son, father, and uncle, but for a fallen soldier who died so tragically. Then there was also the whole ordeal of Fred Phelps deciding that Powell County could be just the place where he could really get his message across.

The thought of losing someone to this war, for this president, is so incomprehensible to me. I know that many families have been through this, I don't know what could possibly ease their pain. I remember my grandparents talking about so and so gettin' killed in action or killed while servin'. Millitary service seemed to be the norm in their day. I can only remember one of my father's friends that was in the service. Scotty was the exception not the rule. Neither my dad nor his brother served. My grandfather did. Stateside at the end of Korea, never overseas. His brother was killed in Germany. My grandmother lost a brother during WW2. I was probably 16 before I heard my dad say anything about losing some one he and grown up with in Vietnam. We were proud of those who had served . But they were sort of revered as some wild beast that you see at a zoo. You stood looking in awe of who they were as if they were another species. Families for many many many years have lost loved ones to wars they never understood. But not my family. Yes we had distant relatives, and two great -uncles, that I never knew. It was definitely not something I had ever experienced. Then, September 11, 2001. My brother had enlisted on a delayed entry program that February. He was activated September 13th. 2 tours of Iraq was almost more than I could bear. But he made it home. To realize what the family of Mr. Morton is going through breaks my heart. To know their are people like Fred Phelps and WBC out there makes me sick.

I did not know John. I knew some of his family. He had already began his service to this country before I moved to Powell County. I cannot fathom what his parents have went through in those 12 years. I remember the nights laying awake trying to get just a little sleep, but praying to hear one more bit of news on just the whereabouts of the Marines. Praying that they might say where my brother was. They might show him. It's awful. 12 years, that is punishment in and of itself. The queasiness in your stomach that never goes away. Travis served 4 years. John gave 12 years and his life. The thought that WBC would come and mock him, disgrace him, dishonor him... incomprehendable. That could have been Travis, it could have been my parents grieving for their only son. The Phelps gang said their piece, and we said ours. Unfortunately, it all went off without a bang. Brinton and I and a few friends travelled to Cane Creek Union Church to ward off any evil doers, while the family was at the memorial. We found the weather to be much warmer, less windy and the atmosphere generally peaceful. Just sitting around with friends not really doing anything. Just enjoying each other's company and wondering what shit we were gonna stir up next. It felt strangely reminescent of old high school days, where you sat on the tailgate and pitched rocks in the river waiting for shit to start. Older not really wiser, but nice all the same.

Later that evening we travelled to Cody's to celebrate the beginning of another year. I am thankful that the years have kept this group of friends so close together. As always, it was a very nice night. But everyone seemed to be just a little pissed about something or another. I came in agitated (not really that unusual for me), only to realize that while we really wanted to get into the mood, our hearts weren't in it. I think the best part was hearing the lead in on Channel 36, " They chose the wrong town." After that it sorta went down hill from there. Lots of screaming, a little kicking, more slapping, all done in undertones of I may not mean this right now, but I meant it yesterday. Or maybe, I just might mean it tomorrow. Either way between the slapping and screaming there was the issue with the shotgun. Now, I'm not saying this was the downfall of the evening, but at this point it definitely took a sharp turn for the worse. Hopefully, 2006 will be kinder to us than 2005. One can sit and make all the resolutions one wants. While I am not against NY's resolutions, I just never got in the habit of making them. When I tried they were always selfish and short lived, so I have resolved not to make any more resolutions on New Year's ever again. I hope 2006 fulfills all your wants and desires and may you all find happiness.



(If you find it, please gimme some directions...)






" As you slide down the banister of life, may all the splinters be facing the right direction!"