A Letter By Arizona Rancher Ed Ashhurst

According to the Arizona Daily Star, Ed Ashurst's 53,000 acre ranch lies to the east of the ranch of Bob Krentz, who was killed on his ranch on March 27, 2010.

July 28th, 2010

By Ed Ashurst

Apache Arizona

I believe story telling to be an art form, certainly verbal record is the oldest form of recording history and recognized by historians worldwide. There is an old adage among those who love to tell a good tale, "Never let the truth get in the way of a good story." And yet there are times when the truth is even more fantastic than exaggeration. What I write here is the truth, plain and simple.

I reside on, and manage a large cattle ranch in the far southeastern corner of Arizona. I've been here for 13 years and in that time frame have become far too familiar with the illegal trafficking in human beings, marijuana and other illicit drugs. Some have called it "the wetback culture" or "America's border problem". Lately it's been taking steroids.

The recent murder of Robert Krentz by an illegal alien has received massive amounts of publicity worldwide. I live on the ranch bordering the Krentz ranch to the east and north. I can see the Krentz home looking out of my front door approximately 10 miles away. The day after Rob's death I was involved in tracking the outlaw into Mexico. I saw the outlaw's footprints where he crossed the border fence. I mention this to say I feel that I'm qualified to speak about current border issues.

My home has been broken into twice. My son's home has been broken into also and between us we have had between twenty and thirty thousand dollars worth of stuff stolen from us including two ranch pick-ups, a four wheeler, 9 firearms (including a loaded AK 47) cash, jewelry all of our credit cards, driver's license, etc. A guest house here on the ranch has been broken into so many times we quit counting... many times we haven't even called the Sheriff's dept. The Cochise County Sheriff's dept has no less than fifteen reports on file where I've called for assistance dealing with an outlaw illegal alien.

Several months ago, not long after Rob Krentz's death, Fox news (channel 10 in Phoenix AZ) contacted me and expressed interest in coming down and doing a news story about me and the problems myself and other ranchers in this area have had in recent months with illegal outlaws. To prepare for my interview with Fox, I asked for assistance from six other neighboring ranchers and businessmen. All of these men are prominent men in the community, tax payers, business owners and individuals who have the best of reputations. Together we made a map of the area which covered from the southeastern corner of AZ going west about 20 miles to the silver creek area, and going north about 30 miles to the area around the towns of Portal, AZ and Rodeo, N.M. On this map we made marks recording violations to United States law committed by illegal aliens. We did not use government statistics (we wouldn't know how to get them) but recorded incidents that we knew had happened first hand, many of which we had witnessed. We tried to record only the incidents that have happened in the last several years.

The sum total of what we recorded is this:

The arrest or capture of 40 illegal in one bunch - 40 (we didn't bother with the countless smaller groups)

Loads of Marijuana found and captured - 213

Dangerous encounters with illegal aliens - 132 (assault, burglaries, forced entries, etc.)

Dead illegal aliens found by civilians - 16

High speed vehicle chases between dope haulers and law enforcement - 14

Illegal aliens spotted with firearms - 12

Fires started by illegal aliens - 9

Over 1000, 000 acres burned with the cost to taxpayers of $ 40,000,000. One fire near Portal AZ in June of 2010 cost $10,000,000. to fight (forest Service estimate)

Outlandish incidents - 4

Example: One bachelor in the Portal area was burglarized around 100 times. He finally took all his valuables and put them in a steel vault and welded the door shut. He then moved out of his house into a shed hoping the illegal aliens would leave him alone. They did not and he finally abandoned his property. Another outlandish event was when outlaws stole a brand new Caterpillar motor grader on the Geronimo Trail east of Douglas, AZ and drove south through the border fence never to be seen again. The grader belonged to Cochise County Hwy Dept.

Financial losses to private sector - $100,000,000.00 (losses in real estate value, personal property, etc., losses in wildlife habitat - immeasurable)

Last but certainly not least, the murder of Rob Krentz, which is right in the center of our map.

Let me put this in perspective. The area I'm talking about is an area that covers approximately 17 or 18 townships with only 20 miles being adjacent to the US - Mexico Boundary. Within this area, there is a population of perhaps 600 people, 90% of which reside in Rodeo, N.M. or Portal, AZ, 30 miles or so north of Mexico. No less than 80% of the people in this area have been burglarized or otherwise molested by illegal aliens. This area is about half as big as the Diamond A ranch or Babbitt ranch in northern AZ, both of which I've been employed on.

I'm sorry to report that this, in my opinion, is the small part of the story. The Mexican-American border has taken a dramatic change for the worse in the last several years. Those of us who live here see it first hand. As early as February of 1999 Sheriff Larry Dever warned me and others at a town hall meeting at the Apache School that the Sinaloa Cartel was moving into the Douglas-Agua Prieta area (Rob Krentz was at this meeting). The cities of Nuevo Laredo, Coahila, Cuidad Juarez, Chihuahua, and other border towns south of Texas have been controlled by outlaws for years. There is virtually no law enforcement in those places. The law is the law of the jungle. Until the last two years it seemed that Agua Prieta and Nogales were safer places but that has dramatically changed in recent months.

I am personally acquainted with 2 Mexican men, that I know to be honest and trustworthy, who have been involved first hand with Mexican outlaw terrorist acts. One witnessed first hand an execution of several people in broad daylight in Juarez. Several weeks later his daughter witnessed an assassination in Casas Grandes, Chihuahua no less than fifteen feet from where she stood. The other man is a legal Mexican green card holder (who was employed by the Krentz family for years) whose nephew was murdered by cartel members in Sonora. At night people in Douglas are hearing machine gun fire from Agua Prieta south of the border fence.

The Sinaloa Cartel is now putting a stranglehold on Agua Prieta. No more than 2 months ago 8 armed Mexicans were confronted by 2, U.S. Border Patrol agents north of the International Boundary in southeast Cochise County disguised as Federalizes. They were in fact cartel employees armed with assault rifles and automatic pistols. Mexican people that know tell me the situation in Agua Prieta has deteriorated dramatically in recent months. The good people are told to look the other way "or else." Volumes could be written about this subject alone, but I will move on.

You could ask, "So what does this have to do with us living north of the border fence?" Plenty! The situation on the border isn't just about a few workers walking north. It has everything to do with big business. Billions of dollars are being made trafficking humans, drugs, and contraband across the International Boundary. The Sinaloa Cartel, headed by Chapo Guzman and others, is reaping huge profits doing business along the border. The average coyote charges $1500 - $2500 to guide an illegal alien north to find work; usually abandoning them a short distance north of the line. A young man willing to pack dope north can make more than a construction worker or a teacher in the U.S. and only work a day or two a week.

This is not all south of the line. I could take you and show you businesses where checks and credit cards are not accepted and where very few customers walk through the door, yet the owners live in the largest mansions in town and drive very expensive cars. Could there be some money laundering going on? There are only two industries of any significance in Douglas, AZ: law enforcement (Douglas has one of the largest Border Patrol stations in America), and the illegal trafficking of drugs, people, etc. across the border. These two industries feed on each other, and the powers that be seem happy with the situation. Crooked politicians look good to the public when they clean up drunk driving and prostitution, until you find they own bars and whore houses south of the line. These things have happened!

But this, in my opinion, is only the beginning. Chapo Guzman who heads up the Sinaloa Cartel is a multibillionaire. This guy and others like him may be cruel and sinister people but they are also very smart businessmen. They are reaping profits off of the largest tax free unregulated business on the planet. They have so much cash they are befuddled what to do with it all. But they are going to figure it out.

There are rumors that Guzman is financing modern, state of the art feedlots and packing houses in Mexico with plans to overtake America as the Western hemisphere's leading beef producer. This is probably only a small part of his plans. Mexico is a nation rich in natural recourses. Petroleum is abundant and the corrupt Mexican government is in control of all of it. Pemex is the only gas station in town. Pemex, because of the incompetent Mexican government, is broke. Chapo Guzman is at war with the Mexican government and has dreams (not unrealistic) of controlling the entire nation. Think of all of Mexico's natural resources in the control of Chapo Guzman! He already has the most profitable business in the world - selling Marijuana to your next door neighbor. Think what he could do with a tax free unregulated strangle hold on a nation of poor people begging to work for practically nothing.

Do you think that Chapo Guzman and others like him haven't thought of all of this? Do you think that Guzman isn't laughing all the way to the bank as he watches the evening news and hears how the American Government proclaims that the situation on the border is under control? What is going on in northern Mexico is capitalism in its rawest form. They have an untaxed unregulated business making huge profits and they have no plans of closing up shop any time soon. We here in the U.S. are overtaxed, overregulated and being smothered by increasingly intrusive government that makes it hard to do business in a successful manner. You don't have to be rocket scientist to figure this one out.

This has nothing to do with being Republican or Democrat or Latino or White. It has everything to do with being right or wrong. I came from a long line of Democrats. My great uncle was a U.S. Senator for several decades. My grandfather was an attorney, and a Superior Court Judge. I have a 1939 copy of a Time Magazine with his picture when he ran as a Democrat for Congress. The only time in history the U.S deficit was paid off was by a Democrat - Andrew Jackson. John Kennedy announced nearly 50 years ago that America could put a man on the moon and in less than a decade we did it.

I am now a registered Republican, but I'm not a Democrat hater. But, how can the president of the "can do" nation of Andrew Jackson's and JFK's party say we can't seal the border? We conquered Adolph Hitler in World War II, but can't seal the border? We put a man on the moon but can't seal a leaking oil well in less than 90 days? While this is going on we tax and regulate American business with a vengeance that stifles the free market system that has made our country great. While Janet Napolitano announces the border is safer than ever, Chapo Guzman and others pack billions of American dollars south to invest in a tax free market with one of the largest cheap labor force on the planet at his disposal!

I challenge you to come to Douglas, AZ and drive east on the Geronimo Trail, or northeast on US Hwy 80 to places on the map like Chiracahua and Apache. Or go to Rodeo and Hatchita, NM. Go and search out the 5 biggest cattle ranches in the Apache, AZ area and ask them what they think. Go to Hidalgo County, N.M. and ask the ranchers and cowboys there what they are seeing and hearing. Ask the people who we do business with what they think of our opinions. I challenge you to ask the prominent people in this area, who work hard and pay taxes if they agree with Barack Obama or Ed Ashurst when it comes to what is really going on near the U.S.-Mexican border. Unlike Obama and others I don't have to be surrounded by sycophants to make a statement. I purposefully left out the names of those who helped me with my map and the data I collected when preparing for the Fox interview.

In closing I challenge you to look around to see if what I say is the truth. This isn't about a few Mexicans wandering around looking for a job. This is about American civilization going into a time of tremendous change - a building has foundations and walls, maybe the foundation of our country is still strong, I don't know, but the walls have certainly fallen down and the keepers of the house are out to lunch.

When you have time, we think you will want to read this. Everyone living in AZ (and elsewhere) should know what is happening near our borders and near our homes.

According to the Arizona Daily Star, Ed Ashurst's 53,000 acre ranch lies to the east of the ranch of Bob Krentz, who was killed on his ranch on March 27, 2010.

July 28th, 2010

By Ed Ashurst

Apache Arizona

I believe story telling to be an art form, certainly verbal record is the oldest form of recording history and recognized by historians worldwide. There is an old adage among those who love to tell a good tale, "Never let the truth get in the way of a good story." And yet there are times when the truth is even more fantastic than exaggeration. What I write here is the truth, plain and simple.

I reside on, and manage a large cattle ranch in the far southeastern corner of Arizona. I've been here for 13 years and in that time frame have become far too familiar with the illegal trafficking in human beings, marijuana and other illicit drugs. Some have called it "the wetback culture" or "America's border problem". Lately it's been taking steroids.

The recent murder of Robert Krentz by an illegal alien has received massive amounts of publicity worldwide. I live on the ranch bordering the Krentz ranch to the east and north. I can see the Krentz home looking out of my front door approximately 10 miles away. The day after Rob's death I was involved in tracking the outlaw into Mexico. I saw the outlaw's footprints where he crossed the border fence. I mention this to say I feel that I'm qualified to speak about current border issues.

My home has been broken into twice. My son's home has been broken into also and between us we have had between twenty and thirty thousand dollars worth of stuff stolen from us including two ranch pick-ups, a four wheeler, 9 firearms (including a loaded AK 47) cash, jewelry all of our credit cards, driver's license, etc. A guest house here on the ranch has been broken into so many times we quit counting... many times we haven't even called the Sheriff's dept. The Cochise County Sheriff's dept has no less than fifteen reports on file where I've called for assistance dealing with an outlaw illegal alien.

Several months ago, not long after Rob Krentz's death, Fox news (channel 10 in Phoenix AZ) contacted me and expressed interest in coming down and doing a news story about me and the problems myself and other ranchers in this area have had in recent months with illegal outlaws. To prepare for my interview with Fox, I asked for assistance from six other neighboring ranchers and businessmen. All of these men are prominent men in the community, tax payers, business owners and individuals who have the best of reputations. Together we made a map of the area which covered from the southeastern corner of AZ going west about 20 miles to the silver creek area, and going north about 30 miles to the area around the towns of Portal, AZ and Rodeo, N.M. On this map we made marks recording violations to United States law committed by illegal aliens. We did not use government statistics (we wouldn't know how to get them) but recorded incidents that we knew had happened first hand, many of which we had witnessed. We tried to record only the incidents that have happened in the last several years.

The sum total of what we recorded is this:

The arrest or capture of 40 illegal in one bunch - 40 (we didn't bother with the countless smaller groups)

Loads of Marijuana found and captured - 213

Dangerous encounters with illegal aliens - 132 (assault, burglaries, forced entries, etc.)

Dead illegal aliens found by civilians - 16

High speed vehicle chases between dope haulers and law enforcement - 14

Illegal aliens spotted with firearms - 12

Fires started by illegal aliens - 9

Over 1000, 000 acres burned with the cost to taxpayers of $ 40,000,000. One fire near Portal AZ in June of 2010 cost $10,000,000. to fight (forest Service estimate)

Outlandish incidents - 4

Example: One bachelor in the Portal area was burglarized around 100 times. He finally took all his valuables and put them in a steel vault and welded the door shut. He then moved out of his house into a shed hoping the illegal aliens would leave him alone. They did not and he finally abandoned his property. Another outlandish event was when outlaws stole a brand new Caterpillar motor grader on the Geronimo Trail east of Douglas, AZ and drove south through the border fence never to be seen again. The grader belonged to Cochise County Hwy Dept.

Financial losses to private sector - $100,000,000.00 (losses in real estate value, personal property, etc., losses in wildlife habitat - immeasurable)

Last but certainly not least, the murder of Rob Krentz, which is right in the center of our map.

Let me put this in perspective. The area I'm talking about is an area that covers approximately 17 or 18 townships with only 20 miles being adjacent to the US - Mexico Boundary. Within this area, there is a population of perhaps 600 people, 90% of which reside in Rodeo, N.M. or Portal, AZ, 30 miles or so north of Mexico. No less than 80% of the people in this area have been burglarized or otherwise molested by illegal aliens. This area is about half as big as the Diamond A ranch or Babbitt ranch in northern AZ, both of which I've been employed on.

I'm sorry to report that this, in my opinion, is the small part of the story. The Mexican-American border has taken a dramatic change for the worse in the last several years. Those of us who live here see it first hand. As early as February of 1999 Sheriff Larry Dever warned me and others at a town hall meeting at the Apache School that the Sinaloa Cartel was moving into the Douglas-Agua Prieta area (Rob Krentz was at this meeting). The cities of Nuevo Laredo, Coahila, Cuidad Juarez, Chihuahua, and other border towns south of Texas have been controlled by outlaws for years. There is virtually no law enforcement in those places. The law is the law of the jungle. Until the last two years it seemed that Agua Prieta and Nogales were safer places but that has dramatically changed in recent months.

I am personally acquainted with 2 Mexican men, that I know to be honest and trustworthy, who have been involved first hand with Mexican outlaw terrorist acts. One witnessed first hand an execution of several people in broad daylight in Juarez. Several weeks later his daughter witnessed an assassination in Casas Grandes, Chihuahua no less than fifteen feet from where she stood. The other man is a legal Mexican green card holder (who was employed by the Krentz family for years) whose nephew was murdered by cartel members in Sonora. At night people in Douglas are hearing machine gun fire from Agua Prieta south of the border fence.

The Sinaloa Cartel is now putting a stranglehold on Agua Prieta. No more than 2 months ago 8 armed Mexicans were confronted by 2, U.S. Border Patrol agents north of the International Boundary in southeast Cochise County disguised as Federalizes. They were in fact cartel employees armed with assault rifles and automatic pistols. Mexican people that know tell me the situation in Agua Prieta has deteriorated dramatically in recent months. The good people are told to look the other way "or else." Volumes could be written about this subject alone, but I will move on.

You could ask, "So what does this have to do with us living north of the border fence?" Plenty! The situation on the border isn't just about a few workers walking north. It has everything to do with big business. Billions of dollars are being made trafficking humans, drugs, and contraband across the International Boundary. The Sinaloa Cartel, headed by Chapo Guzman and others, is reaping huge profits doing business along the border. The average coyote charges $1500 - $2500 to guide an illegal alien north to find work; usually abandoning them a short distance north of the line. A young man willing to pack dope north can make more than a construction worker or a teacher in the U.S. and only work a day or two a week.

This is not all south of the line. I could take you and show you businesses where checks and credit cards are not accepted and where very few customers walk through the door, yet the owners live in the largest mansions in town and drive very expensive cars. Could there be some money laundering going on? There are only two industries of any significance in Douglas, AZ: law enforcement (Douglas has one of the largest Border Patrol stations in America), and the illegal trafficking of drugs, people, etc. across the border. These two industries feed on each other, and the powers that be seem happy with the situation. Crooked politicians look good to the public when they clean up drunk driving and prostitution, until you find they own bars and whore houses south of the line. These things have happened!

But this, in my opinion, is only the beginning. Chapo Guzman who heads up the Sinaloa Cartel is a multibillionaire. This guy and others like him may be cruel and sinister people but they are also very smart businessmen. They are reaping profits off of the largest tax free unregulated business on the planet. They have so much cash they are befuddled what to do with it all. But they are going to figure it out.

There are rumors that Guzman is financing modern, state of the art feedlots and packing houses in Mexico with plans to overtake America as the Western hemisphere's leading beef producer. This is probably only a small part of his plans. Mexico is a nation rich in natural recourses. Petroleum is abundant and the corrupt Mexican government is in control of all of it. Pemex is the only gas station in town. Pemex, because of the incompetent Mexican government, is broke. Chapo Guzman is at war with the Mexican government and has dreams (not unrealistic) of controlling the entire nation. Think of all of Mexico's natural resources in the control of Chapo Guzman! He already has the most profitable business in the world - selling Marijuana to your next door neighbor. Think what he could do with a tax free unregulated strangle hold on a nation of poor people begging to work for practically nothing.

Do you think that Chapo Guzman and others like him haven't thought of all of this? Do you think that Guzman isn't laughing all the way to the bank as he watches the evening news and hears how the American Government proclaims that the situation on the border is under control? What is going on in northern Mexico is capitalism in its rawest form. They have an untaxed unregulated business making huge profits and they have no plans of closing up shop any time soon. We here in the U.S. are overtaxed, overregulated and being smothered by increasingly intrusive government that makes it hard to do business in a successful manner. You don't have to be rocket scientist to figure this one out.

This has nothing to do with being Republican or Democrat or Latino or White. It has everything to do with being right or wrong. I came from a long line of Democrats. My great uncle was a U.S. Senator for several decades. My grandfather was an attorney, and a Superior Court Judge. I have a 1939 copy of a Time Magazine with his picture when he ran as a Democrat for Congress. The only time in history the U.S deficit was paid off was by a Democrat - Andrew Jackson. John Kennedy announced nearly 50 years ago that America could put a man on the moon and in less than a decade we did it.

I am now a registered Republican, but I'm not a Democrat hater. But, how can the president of the "can do" nation of Andrew Jackson's and JFK's party say we can't seal the border? We conquered Adolph Hitler in World War II, but can't seal the border? We put a man on the moon but can't seal a leaking oil well in less than 90 days? While this is going on we tax and regulate American business with a vengeance that stifles the free market system that has made our country great. While Janet Napolitano announces the border is safer than ever, Chapo Guzman and others pack billions of American dollars south to invest in a tax free market with one of the largest cheap labor force on the planet at his disposal!

I challenge you to come to Douglas, AZ and drive east on the Geronimo Trail, or northeast on US Hwy 80 to places on the map like Chiracahua and Apache. Or go to Rodeo and Hatchita, NM. Go and search out the 5 biggest cattle ranches in the Apache, AZ area and ask them what they think. Go to Hidalgo County, N.M. and ask the ranchers and cowboys there what they are seeing and hearing. Ask the people who we do business with what they think of our opinions. I challenge you to ask the prominent people in this area, who work hard and pay taxes if they agree with Barack Obama or Ed Ashurst when it comes to what is really going on near the U.S.-Mexican border. Unlike Obama and others I don't have to be surrounded by sycophants to make a statement. I purposefully left out the names of those who helped me with my map and the data I collected when preparing for the Fox interview.

In closing I challenge you to look around to see if what I say is the truth. This isn't about a few Mexicans wandering around looking for a job. This is about American civilization going into a time of tremendous change - a building has foundations and walls, maybe the foundation of our country is still strong, I don't know, but the walls have certainly fallen down and the keepers of the house are out to lunch.

When you have time, we think you will want to read this. Everyone living in AZ (and elsewhere) should know what is happening near our borders and near our homes.

On Playing Soldier and the Real Thing

When we were kids, my brother and I were crazy about playing war. We didn’t play cowboys and Indians though, we thought that was for sissies. We played army. We thought of ourselves as hardcore soldiers. Our favorite TV shows were Combat and Hogan’s Heroes. My brother and I had plastic army helmets, the toy rifles, the canteens, and we used branches and twigs for camouflage. Mom would get upset if we used her green eye shadow and black mascara to paint our faces in camouflage.

Any rock or dirt clod was well suited for us to be used as an imaginary hand grenade. If we ran out of grenades we would simply pick up a “Potato Masher” grenade that had been thrown at us by a Gerry, to throw it back, before it exploded. By pulling on a handful of long grass, we were able to pull it up by the roots. If done right, the grass came out of the earth with a dirt clod on the end. This served as the “Potato Masher” grenade, that when thrown back at the Gerry machine gun nest we were about to overrun.

The hills behind our home became our battlefield. One day we would walk out our back gate into the hills, and we would find ourselves on Guadalcanal. The next day we were at Normandy. We saw many days of imaginary battle.

I was the youngest of all our friends and out of all the boys in my family. I wasn’t always happy with my role in some of our war games. My older brother, my cousin, and their friends always got to be the American soldiers. As the youngest, I always had to be a Jap or a Gerry. Then I would get captured and I was relegated to Jap, or Gerry POW status. This meant that I would not get to have a weapon, and that I would spend most of our play time tied to a tree, or a fence post. This was to prevent my escape.

One day I protested, and I demanded that I was to be an American G.I. I thought, that If I was an American, that I wouldn't have to be tied up. Moreover, I would get to have a weapon. The other boys agreed to my demand. So, I got to be an American POW. They were one step ahead of me. I spent all my time weaponless and tied up. I felt gypped. Today I look back upon those days fondly, even the times when the older boys picked on me.

We were just innocent schoolboys back then. We were unaware that there was so much turmoil and unrest on the social scene, back then. My Mom and my step-dad were able to shelter us from the nightly news reports of what was actually happening in the world. We did not know that a war was raging in a place we had never heard of. A place called Vietnam.

My step-dad complained about people called ‘Hippies’ who were always protesting about something. But we didn't really know what they protested. Dad said they hated our soldiers, that they were downright ugly and disrespectful of our soldiers. But, we didn't know why anyone would act like that towards soldiers.

As I would learn years later, the Zodiac killer was also prominent in the news. The Zodiac had caused the San Francisco Bay Area to become paralyzed with fear. The Black Panthers were also in the news reports of the day. Carrying assault weapons on the streets of Oakland as a political movement. There was so much unrest that we were unaware of.

The only thing we knew of the outside world was that Americans had recently walked on the moon. More missions were being planned for the Apollo space program. And we relished watching anything that had to do with NASA, and space exploration. The best part for us was that all of the astronauts in the Apollo program were also American soldiers!

We didn’t know, or understand much about Vietnam. As far as my brother and I were concerned, soldiers were to be looked up to. Soldiers were our heroes, and we were prideful that our nation had been victorious in WWII, a war which had ended just over two decades ago. To us, the Japanese and Germans were still the enemy, and when we played war with our friends, not one of us wanted to be a stinking Jap, or a lowdown Gerry. This is the way it was. In those days, we got to be kids, unburdened with the ugliness of the outside world.

In 1969 I was but a naive six year old boy. My older brother was eight. As we did every summer, we hopped a flight aboard the now defunct PSA airlines, from Oakland to Phoenix. My brother and I were going to see my dad. Our folks had divorced a few years earlier and my dad had us for two weeks over summer vacation.

As we were about to get onto the plane, my brother and I walked across the tarmac escorted by a stewardess. We always thought the stewardesses were pretty. The stewardess assisted us as we climbed the stairs to the plane, and as she showed us to our seats. She made sure that we were all buckled in. My brother got sit by the porthole, and I was in the middle seat. As we could looked out the porthole we could see Mom waiting for the plane to take off. Other people began boarding the plane. Some people settled in and smoked cigarettes while they waited for the no smoking light to come on. Others moved about the cabin to stow their belongings, then to take their seats.

I remember sitting impatiently on the plane as we waited to pull away from the gate. That was always exciting for us. My brother and I looked around impatiently as we waited. Looking up, I saw a soldier making his way down the aisle. My brother spied him too. Both our eyes were riveted on him. We immediately knew that the soldier had to be a general, or something. He had a chest full of colorful ribbons. To us, he appeared to be an old guy too. He was tall, and he was a Negro, just like Reggie Jackson was, of the Oakland A’s. We hadn’t seen too many Negroes in our time growing up in the suburbs. Now, a Negro, and a real soldier was making his way down the aisle towards us.

When the soldier reached our row of seats, he sat down, right next to us! We couldn't believe our good luck! A soldier was seated right next to my brother and me. We were dumbfounded. All of the sudden the two of us, formerly rambunctious, loud little boys, had became shy. We couldn’t even muster up the courage to look at the man. The only thing I could think of was that this man must have killed hundreds of Japs and Gerries in hand-to-hand combat, to get all those ribbons on his chest. My brother and I just didn't know what to do, or to say to him.

As the door closed and the engines revved up, the plane began to move. Looking out the porthole, Mom waved to us. We waved back. The plane taxied from the gate and soon was gaining speed as it moved down the runway and climbed into the sky.

Soon, the pretty stewardess came around with drinks. I remember I took a Coke. My brother did too. I also remember that my brother had a knack for cracking me up, at just the right moment, when I was taking a drink. Ultimately, Coca Cola would squirt out my nose. As usual, my brother once again pulled his stunt. I cracked up, and Coca Cola came streaming, and foaming out of my nose.

When I stopped sputtering and giggling, a large, strong and dark hand appeared in front of me with a napkin. I can remember that I sheepishly took the napkin from the man and I thanked him. I began to clean the Cola from my face, my shirt my clip-on bow tie, and from my jacket. Then, I glanced sideways and studied the soldier sitting next to me as I worked up some courage. Finally, I looked up at the man and asked, “Are you a real army man?”

“Yes, I am.” He said with a hint of a smile. "I am a corporal in the U.S. Amy." He said.

My brother asked, “Are all those ribbons and medals on your chest from killin’ Japs n’ Gerries?”

“No”, he said. “I got these from doing other things in the army. I never killed a Jap or a Gerry.” He went on, “Don’t you boys know it’s rude to ask a soldier if he’s killed someone in battle? Killing enemy soldiers is hurtful and troublesome to American soldiers. Those enemy soldiers have wives and little boys just like you.”

“We didn’t mean to say anything wrong, mister.” My brother replied.

The soldier answered back, “Of course not, son. I’m just pointing out some good manners for you to use later, when you see another soldier. All you need to do is to thank him for being brave and for doing his duty in protecting you and your country. That’s his job and he’s glad to do it for you. But, don’t ask him about the ugly things of war, like killing. That’s private and some soldiers feel sad that they had to do it, even when it was necessary. OK?” The soldier smiled at us.

My brother and I made chit-chat with the soldier for the rest of the flight. As we landed in Phoenix, and as the plane taxied to the gate, the soldier took two off two of the ribbons from his chest. He then reached over and he pinned one on my brother's lapel, and one on mine.

As the stewardess took us off the plane, before the rest of the passengers disembarked, we said goodbye to our new soldier friend. We puffed our chests out with pride. We had an honest for goodness medal, from an honest to goodness, real soldier, pinned on our chests!

The memory of my encounter with an American military man made a profound impact in my life. I had learned a valuable lesson from him. Over time, as I matured, I learned other lessons. I learned to always be grateful for the service to our country that these fine men and women provide to our nation. I learned what not to ask a soldier, so that I would never hurt their feelings. I learned war causes pain for our soldiers, for some of the tasks that they must undertake while fighting wars are not pleasant ones. I learned that war is an ugly affair. As ugly as war is, I learned that war is a necessary evil.

That day on the plane took place over 40 years ago. It has stuck with me ever since. Every so often I think of that soldier, and I wonder how his life may have turned out. I wonder if he remembers two little boys on a plane bound to Phoenix. I am sure that he would be happy to know that he made a positive impact in our lives. He taught us to appreciate soldiers and to understand the human side of a soldier, if just a little bit.

To him, and to all other soldiers who have served in war and in peace, I share another lesson taught to me by that soldier on the plane,

To always stop and thank a soldier for their service and sacrifices for our country.

I wish I knew who that man is today. I'd like to shake his hand and thank him for his service to our country.

Please pray for our soldiers.

(Repost) - Copyright 05/02/2005 & 08/272010. Use granted to all who identify this website

When we were kids, my brother and I were crazy about playing war. We didn’t play cowboys and Indians though, we thought that was for sissies. We played army. We thought of ourselves as hardcore soldiers. Our favorite TV shows were Combat and Hogan’s Heroes. My brother and I had plastic army helmets, the toy rifles, the canteens, and we used branches and twigs for camouflage. Mom would get upset if we used her green eye shadow and black mascara to paint our faces in camouflage.

Any rock or dirt clod was well suited for us to be used as an imaginary hand grenade. If we ran out of grenades we would simply pick up a “Potato Masher” grenade that had been thrown at us by a Gerry, to throw it back, before it exploded. By pulling on a handful of long grass, we were able to pull it up by the roots. If done right, the grass came out of the earth with a dirt clod on the end. This served as the “Potato Masher” grenade, that when thrown back at the Gerry machine gun nest we were about to overrun.

The hills behind our home became our battlefield. One day we would walk out our back gate into the hills, and we would find ourselves on Guadalcanal. The next day we were at Normandy. We saw many days of imaginary battle.

I was the youngest of all our friends and out of all the boys in my family. I wasn’t always happy with my role in some of our war games. My older brother, my cousin, and their friends always got to be the American soldiers. As the youngest, I always had to be a Jap or a Gerry. Then I would get captured and I was relegated to Jap, or Gerry POW status. This meant that I would not get to have a weapon, and that I would spend most of our play time tied to a tree, or a fence post. This was to prevent my escape.

One day I protested, and I demanded that I was to be an American G.I. I thought, that If I was an American, that I wouldn't have to be tied up. Moreover, I would get to have a weapon. The other boys agreed to my demand. So, I got to be an American POW. They were one step ahead of me. I spent all my time weaponless and tied up. I felt gypped. Today I look back upon those days fondly, even the times when the older boys picked on me.

We were just innocent schoolboys back then. We were unaware that there was so much turmoil and unrest on the social scene, back then. My Mom and my step-dad were able to shelter us from the nightly news reports of what was actually happening in the world. We did not know that a war was raging in a place we had never heard of. A place called Vietnam.

My step-dad complained about people called ‘Hippies’ who were always protesting about something. But we didn't really know what they protested. Dad said they hated our soldiers, that they were downright ugly and disrespectful of our soldiers. But, we didn't know why anyone would act like that towards soldiers.

As I would learn years later, the Zodiac killer was also prominent in the news. The Zodiac had caused the San Francisco Bay Area to become paralyzed with fear. The Black Panthers were also in the news reports of the day. Carrying assault weapons on the streets of Oakland as a political movement. There was so much unrest that we were unaware of.

The only thing we knew of the outside world was that Americans had recently walked on the moon. More missions were being planned for the Apollo space program. And we relished watching anything that had to do with NASA, and space exploration. The best part for us was that all of the astronauts in the Apollo program were also American soldiers!

We didn’t know, or understand much about Vietnam. As far as my brother and I were concerned, soldiers were to be looked up to. Soldiers were our heroes, and we were prideful that our nation had been victorious in WWII, a war which had ended just over two decades ago. To us, the Japanese and Germans were still the enemy, and when we played war with our friends, not one of us wanted to be a stinking Jap, or a lowdown Gerry. This is the way it was. In those days, we got to be kids, unburdened with the ugliness of the outside world.

In 1969 I was but a naive six year old boy. My older brother was eight. As we did every summer, we hopped a flight aboard the now defunct PSA airlines, from Oakland to Phoenix. My brother and I were going to see my dad. Our folks had divorced a few years earlier and my dad had us for two weeks over summer vacation.

As we were about to get onto the plane, my brother and I walked across the tarmac escorted by a stewardess. We always thought the stewardesses were pretty. The stewardess assisted us as we climbed the stairs to the plane, and as she showed us to our seats. She made sure that we were all buckled in. My brother got sit by the porthole, and I was in the middle seat. As we could looked out the porthole we could see Mom waiting for the plane to take off. Other people began boarding the plane. Some people settled in and smoked cigarettes while they waited for the no smoking light to come on. Others moved about the cabin to stow their belongings, then to take their seats.

I remember sitting impatiently on the plane as we waited to pull away from the gate. That was always exciting for us. My brother and I looked around impatiently as we waited. Looking up, I saw a soldier making his way down the aisle. My brother spied him too. Both our eyes were riveted on him. We immediately knew that the soldier had to be a general, or something. He had a chest full of colorful ribbons. To us, he appeared to be an old guy too. He was tall, and he was a Negro, just like Reggie Jackson was, of the Oakland A’s. We hadn’t seen too many Negroes in our time growing up in the suburbs. Now, a Negro, and a real soldier was making his way down the aisle towards us.

When the soldier reached our row of seats, he sat down, right next to us! We couldn't believe our good luck! A soldier was seated right next to my brother and me. We were dumbfounded. All of the sudden the two of us, formerly rambunctious, loud little boys, had became shy. We couldn’t even muster up the courage to look at the man. The only thing I could think of was that this man must have killed hundreds of Japs and Gerries in hand-to-hand combat, to get all those ribbons on his chest. My brother and I just didn't know what to do, or to say to him.

As the door closed and the engines revved up, the plane began to move. Looking out the porthole, Mom waved to us. We waved back. The plane taxied from the gate and soon was gaining speed as it moved down the runway and climbed into the sky.

Soon, the pretty stewardess came around with drinks. I remember I took a Coke. My brother did too. I also remember that my brother had a knack for cracking me up, at just the right moment, when I was taking a drink. Ultimately, Coca Cola would squirt out my nose. As usual, my brother once again pulled his stunt. I cracked up, and Coca Cola came streaming, and foaming out of my nose.

When I stopped sputtering and giggling, a large, strong and dark hand appeared in front of me with a napkin. I can remember that I sheepishly took the napkin from the man and I thanked him. I began to clean the Cola from my face, my shirt my clip-on bow tie, and from my jacket. Then, I glanced sideways and studied the soldier sitting next to me as I worked up some courage. Finally, I looked up at the man and asked, “Are you a real army man?”

“Yes, I am.” He said with a hint of a smile. "I am a corporal in the U.S. Amy." He said.

My brother asked, “Are all those ribbons and medals on your chest from killin’ Japs n’ Gerries?”

“No”, he said. “I got these from doing other things in the army. I never killed a Jap or a Gerry.” He went on, “Don’t you boys know it’s rude to ask a soldier if he’s killed someone in battle? Killing enemy soldiers is hurtful and troublesome to American soldiers. Those enemy soldiers have wives and little boys just like you.”

“We didn’t mean to say anything wrong, mister.” My brother replied.

The soldier answered back, “Of course not, son. I’m just pointing out some good manners for you to use later, when you see another soldier. All you need to do is to thank him for being brave and for doing his duty in protecting you and your country. That’s his job and he’s glad to do it for you. But, don’t ask him about the ugly things of war, like killing. That’s private and some soldiers feel sad that they had to do it, even when it was necessary. OK?” The soldier smiled at us.

My brother and I made chit-chat with the soldier for the rest of the flight. As we landed in Phoenix, and as the plane taxied to the gate, the soldier took two off two of the ribbons from his chest. He then reached over and he pinned one on my brother's lapel, and one on mine.

As the stewardess took us off the plane, before the rest of the passengers disembarked, we said goodbye to our new soldier friend. We puffed our chests out with pride. We had an honest for goodness medal, from an honest to goodness, real soldier, pinned on our chests!

The memory of my encounter with an American military man made a profound impact in my life. I had learned a valuable lesson from him. Over time, as I matured, I learned other lessons. I learned to always be grateful for the service to our country that these fine men and women provide to our nation. I learned what not to ask a soldier, so that I would never hurt their feelings. I learned war causes pain for our soldiers, for some of the tasks that they must undertake while fighting wars are not pleasant ones. I learned that war is an ugly affair. As ugly as war is, I learned that war is a necessary evil.

That day on the plane took place over 40 years ago. It has stuck with me ever since. Every so often I think of that soldier, and I wonder how his life may have turned out. I wonder if he remembers two little boys on a plane bound to Phoenix. I am sure that he would be happy to know that he made a positive impact in our lives. He taught us to appreciate soldiers and to understand the human side of a soldier, if just a little bit.

To him, and to all other soldiers who have served in war and in peace, I share another lesson taught to me by that soldier on the plane,

To always stop and thank a soldier for their service and sacrifices for our country.

I wish I knew who that man is today. I'd like to shake his hand and thank him for his service to our country.

Please pray for our soldiers.

(Repost) - Copyright 05/02/2005 & 08/272010. Use granted to all who identify this website

موقع, موقع, موقع

Anyone even remotely familiar with the workings of real estate knows it always boils down to the same old formula: Location, Location, Location. You want the curb appeal, you want the picket fence, you want the country view but the proximity of business.

But sometimes, as much as you want the location, the location doesn't want you. There are rules in place to make sure that you don't build a liquor store too close to a school, that you don't build a strip club too close to a church, and that you don't build a high-rise in the middle of a neighborhood of single-family dwellings. These rules are enforced by a special board of politicos called a Zoning Board, and it's their job to keep things as organized as possible by making things as difficult to change as possible.

Now, there's a certain bit of real estate in New York that has attracted quite a bit of attention lately -- the old location of the Burlington Coat Factory, destroyed when the wheel housing of a jet fell through it as said jet crashed into the side of one of the World Trade Center towers. It is here that Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf and his partners wish to establish a mosque (which quickly became a "mosque and community center," then "community center and mosque") -- a center for Islamic worship, in the shadow of a still-fresh tragedy created in the name of Islam by a group of radical extremists. At its most basic, the proponents of the mosque should see the notion as extremely insensitive. And in another example of America continuing to accommodate in the name of its core values, notably freedom of speech and religious expression, the zoning commission gives every appearance of having allowed Rauf an easy skate in getting approval to construct on the location.

Contrast this with the St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Church, destroyed in the fall of the Twin Towers. Nearly a decade after the events of September 11, 2001, the church is still looking to be rebuilt. But negotiations have been stymied, and the church and Port Authority have broken off negotiations after too many bureaucratic impasses. All to reconstruct a worship building that pre-dated the attacks.

It is still hopeful that the mosque will relocate, should its builders come to understand the feelings of non-Muslim Americans in and around New York. A very similar situation occurred in the late 1980s when the Catholic Church prepared to build a convent: on Auschwitz. As one can reasonably imagine, even after half a century the site so pivotal to the Holocaust remained raw in the memories of Jews worldwide. The controversy was just as heated as that surrounding the so-called Ground Zero Mosque. The idea that there would be a Catholic facility on the site so sacred to Jews was seen as extreme insensitivity on the part of the Church. And, eventually, the Vatican agreed, and the convent was moved.

Would that a similar accord might be reached today.

Anyone even remotely familiar with the workings of real estate knows it always boils down to the same old formula: Location, Location, Location. You want the curb appeal, you want the picket fence, you want the country view but the proximity of business.

But sometimes, as much as you want the location, the location doesn't want you. There are rules in place to make sure that you don't build a liquor store too close to a school, that you don't build a strip club too close to a church, and that you don't build a high-rise in the middle of a neighborhood of single-family dwellings. These rules are enforced by a special board of politicos called a Zoning Board, and it's their job to keep things as organized as possible by making things as difficult to change as possible.

Now, there's a certain bit of real estate in New York that has attracted quite a bit of attention lately -- the old location of the Burlington Coat Factory, destroyed when the wheel housing of a jet fell through it as said jet crashed into the side of one of the World Trade Center towers. It is here that Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf and his partners wish to establish a mosque (which quickly became a "mosque and community center," then "community center and mosque") -- a center for Islamic worship, in the shadow of a still-fresh tragedy created in the name of Islam by a group of radical extremists. At its most basic, the proponents of the mosque should see the notion as extremely insensitive. And in another example of America continuing to accommodate in the name of its core values, notably freedom of speech and religious expression, the zoning commission gives every appearance of having allowed Rauf an easy skate in getting approval to construct on the location.

Contrast this with the St. Nicholas Greek Orthodox Church, destroyed in the fall of the Twin Towers. Nearly a decade after the events of September 11, 2001, the church is still looking to be rebuilt. But negotiations have been stymied, and the church and Port Authority have broken off negotiations after too many bureaucratic impasses. All to reconstruct a worship building that pre-dated the attacks.

It is still hopeful that the mosque will relocate, should its builders come to understand the feelings of non-Muslim Americans in and around New York. A very similar situation occurred in the late 1980s when the Catholic Church prepared to build a convent: on Auschwitz. As one can reasonably imagine, even after half a century the site so pivotal to the Holocaust remained raw in the memories of Jews worldwide. The controversy was just as heated as that surrounding the so-called Ground Zero Mosque. The idea that there would be a Catholic facility on the site so sacred to Jews was seen as extreme insensitivity on the part of the Church. And, eventually, the Vatican agreed, and the convent was moved.

Would that a similar accord might be reached today.

The Ant & The Grasshopper

This one is a little different ... 
Two Different Versions ... 
Two Different Morals 

OLD VERSION 
The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.

 

The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.

Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed. The grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the cold.

MORAL OF THE OLD STORY: Be responsible for yourself!

 MODERN VERSION
The ant works hard in the withering heat and the rain all summer long, building his house
and laying up supplies for the winter.

The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.

Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while he is cold and starving. 

CBS, NBC , PBS, CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the shivering grasshoppernext to a video of the ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food. America is stunned by the sharp contrast.  How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so? 

Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper and everybody cries when they sing, 'It's Not Easy Being Green...'

ACORN stages a demonstration in front of the ant's house where the news stations film the group singing, “We shall overcome.”

Then Rev. Jeremiah Wright has the group kneel down to pray for thegrasshopper's sake. 

President Obama condemns the ant and blames President Bush, President Reagan, Christopher Columbus, and the Pope for the grasshopper's plight. 

Nancy Pelosi & Harry Reid exclaim in an interview with Larry King that the ant has gotten rich off the back off  the grasshopper,and both call for an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share. 

Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity & Anti-Grasshopper Act retroactive to the beginning of the summer.

The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green bugs and, having  nothing left to  pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the Government GreenCzar and given  to the grasshopper.

The story ends as we see the grasshopper and his free-loading  friends finishing up the last bits of the ant’s food while the government house he is  in, which, as you recall, just happens to be the ant's old house, crumbles around them because the grasshopper doesn't  maintain it.

The ant has  disappeared in the snow, never to be seen again.

The grasshopper is found  dead in a drug related incident.

The house, now abandoned, is taken over  by a gang of spiders who terrorize the ramshackle, once prosperous  and peaceful, neighborhood.
 

The entire Nation collapses bringing the rest of the free world with it. 

MORAL OF THE STORY: Be careful how you vote in 2010.

This one is a little different ... 
Two Different Versions ... 
Two Different Morals 

OLD VERSION 
The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.

 

The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.

Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed. The grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the cold.

MORAL OF THE OLD STORY: Be responsible for yourself!

 MODERN VERSION
The ant works hard in the withering heat and the rain all summer long, building his house
and laying up supplies for the winter.

The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.

Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while he is cold and starving. 

CBS, NBC , PBS, CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the shivering grasshoppernext to a video of the ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food. America is stunned by the sharp contrast.  How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so? 

Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper and everybody cries when they sing, 'It's Not Easy Being Green...'

ACORN stages a demonstration in front of the ant's house where the news stations film the group singing, “We shall overcome.”

Then Rev. Jeremiah Wright has the group kneel down to pray for thegrasshopper's sake. 

President Obama condemns the ant and blames President Bush, President Reagan, Christopher Columbus, and the Pope for the grasshopper's plight. 

Nancy Pelosi & Harry Reid exclaim in an interview with Larry King that the ant has gotten rich off the back off  the grasshopper,and both call for an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share. 

Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity & Anti-Grasshopper Act retroactive to the beginning of the summer.

The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green bugs and, having  nothing left to  pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the Government GreenCzar and given  to the grasshopper.

The story ends as we see the grasshopper and his free-loading  friends finishing up the last bits of the ant’s food while the government house he is  in, which, as you recall, just happens to be the ant's old house, crumbles around them because the grasshopper doesn't  maintain it.

The ant has  disappeared in the snow, never to be seen again.

The grasshopper is found  dead in a drug related incident.

The house, now abandoned, is taken over  by a gang of spiders who terrorize the ramshackle, once prosperous  and peaceful, neighborhood.
 

The entire Nation collapses bringing the rest of the free world with it. 

MORAL OF THE STORY: Be careful how you vote in 2010.

This Is Sheer Genius. . . Your Democratic Congress in Action.

In a bid to stem taxpayer losses for bad loans guaranteed by federal housing agencies Fanny Mae and Freddy Mac, Senator Bob Corker (R-Tenn) proposed that borrowers be required to make a 5% down payment in order to qualify.  His proposal was  rejected 57-42 on a party-line vote because, as Senator Chris Dodd (D-Conn) explained, "passage of such a requirement would restrict home ownership to only those who can afford it."

In a bid to stem taxpayer losses for bad loans guaranteed by federal housing agencies Fanny Mae and Freddy Mac, Senator Bob Corker (R-Tenn) proposed that borrowers be required to make a 5% down payment in order to qualify.  His proposal was  rejected 57-42 on a party-line vote because, as Senator Chris Dodd (D-Conn) explained, "passage of such a requirement would restrict home ownership to only those who can afford it."