WILT CHAMBERLAIN and ME

WILT CHAMBERLAIN & ME

On my tenth birthday, I stood five feet two inches. I was short, and some called me a runt. Over the summer, I began to sprout. I grew out of everything so fast my parents thought I might be an anomaly. I was taken to several doctors, but they found nothing wrong.

My feet stopped growing first. Size eleven and a half. I hated looking down and thought I was wearing violin cases instead of shoes. My schoolmates made fun of my big feet, and I didn’t want to go back to school.

When my eleventh birthday rolled around, my foot size was no longer an issue. I had grown into a human tree. I stood six feet five inches in my bare feet. I towered over everyone in my family. At school, I was the tallest person in the building. No teacher, student or janitorial personnel measured in over six feet. Only the strongest of friends hung out with me as everyone else got out of my way when I came close. It was as though I had a disease, something catching and dastardly that would surely kill anyone who dared rub up against me or touch something I had already touched.

Then, as miraculously as it had started, it all stopped. My shoe size was twelve, and my height was six feet five inches. I was skinny, awkward, clumsy, and never met an object I couldn’t avoid bashing into. I didn’t know what dexterity meant, but I didn’t have any.

I was the epitome of a geek. It wasn’t that I was a nerd because I didn’t even fit in with that crowd. I was just that big guy. I was too tall to be anything, and that became lonely.

For over a year, I tried to be shorter. I bent over, walked weirdly and tried to be small and unnoticed. Nothing worked.

It was a Saturday morning when my grandpa walked into the backyard. The kid down the block had made fun of me, and I chose to feel sorry about everything. The wrath of life had fallen upon my twelve year old shoulders. Grandpa sat next to me. He said nothing, so I remained quiet.

“So?” I’ll never forget the touch of sarcasm he had in his voice.

“So what?”

“Yeah, why are you pouting like a baby?” Grandpa had a way with words.

“Awful big baby,” I mumbled.

“You’re right, you are unbelievably large. So why is the giant baby pouting?”

“I’m not.” I was equally bullheaded and stubborn.

“So why are you pouting?”

“I’m the tallest person in my school. Everybody makes fun of me.” Grandpa didn’t mind if I shed a tear like my dad did, but I had to have a sound reason to spill tears. I fought the tears back.

“You’re a freak, so get over it.” He wasn’t even looking at me when those words came from his mouth. He watched an old truck drive down the alley. “It’s too bad. Actually your getting so tall is downright sad. I don’t know what you can do with your life now that it’s over.”

“What am I going to do?” It was pathetic how sorry I suddenly felt about being as tall as I was.

Grandpa stood up so abruptly it startled me. “You’re going to come with me right now.”

I stood quite reluctantly as he grabbed under my arm and pulled me to follow. We were suddenly in a big hurry and grandpa was much stronger than I thought. I was on my way to something terrible, and he was dragging me to hurry and stay with him. “Where are we going?”

We took a bus ride to downtown Denver and got off on 16th Street, right in front of Daniels and Fisher department store. I had been to the building many times to see the Christmas decorations in their window displays, and to roam with gramps through the tallest building in Denver. This day, however, wasn’t a holiday or special occasion. Every time I looked up at the clock tower 20 stories up, it made me dizzy.

“C’mon,” my grandpa said and pulled me into the building. We walked down a hallway where a room had been cleared out. A small sign was posted on a pole. When we got close enough to read it, I wanted to run off. The sign stated: “TALL MAN’S CONTEST.”

“I’m not going in there.” I nearly shouted, causing others to look at me. I tried to shrink down and pretend I was shorter.

“Yes you are,” grandpa said firmly. He grabbed my arm and tugged me into the room. “Let’s see what kind of a freak you really are.”

“No!” I was near tears being humiliated by the man I loved. He was about to embarrass me in the worse way possible.

“There is no way out now, bucko.” He was very strong and with little effort dragged me into the room.

A woman stopped our momentum. “Has he been measured?” She said in a kindly voice.

“No,” my grandpa answered. “He’s probably too tall. He thinks he’s a freak. Will the measurement really embarrass him?”

“Well,” the woman said as she studied me from head to toe, “it probably will.”

“Then we can leave, right grandpa?”

“No, I think you should be measured. Tall freaks like you need to know the truth.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked.

Grandpa turned back to the woman and smiled. She nodded as if she knew what he was asking without asking it.

“What is your name?” She asked me in that kind voice of hers.

“Billy,” I answered

“Come, Billy.” She took my hand. “Let’s see if you will qualify.”

Qualify? I wanted to shout, but it was too late. She led me into this small entryway where two poles were attached to a third forming an archway.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Let’s see if you can walk beneath the bar without hitting your head.”

I froze, and then grandpa pushed me. I moved forward, and my forehead touched the bar. I missed going under it by only an inch.

“You see?” I shouted angrily. “I’m too tall.”

The kindly woman laughed. I was humiliated. “No, you passed.” She looked at grandpa, and her smile actually grew. “You were right,” she said to him.

“I knew it,” grandpa said while looking at me.

“What’s all the shouting about, Mrs. Walker?” A powerful, deep male voice said from behind us. I was the first one to turn around and found I was looking into a man’s chest. My eyes drifted up as though I was peering up at the clock tower outside. The man was the biggest, tallest human being I had ever seen.

“This is Billy. I’m afraid he thinks he has grown to tall and has become a freak.”

“Really?” The tall man said. “Can he walk beneath the bar?”

“No,” the woman answered while still smiling. “His forehead touched the bar.”

“That’s excellent,” the tall man said loudly. He held out his hand to me. “My name is George, Billy, and before your arrival I was the shortest man in the room.”

“Shortest?” I repeated.

“Come with me,” George said and led grandpa and me into the huge room full of people, men and women. They were all taller than George and towered over me. I suddenly became the shortest person in the room. It was an amazing nanosecond to have the fear and anxiety lifted from my shoulders. Free from the weight of being intimidated, and then a feeling of safety engulfed me, and it was unbelievable to experience such relief. I found my body stretching taller, my neck straightening and the curve in my back disappearing. It was exhilarating. There were lots of people taller than I was.

While the experience was fantastic and what grandpa did was beyond anything I could have ever asked him to do, it didn’t totally cure the gawking I continued to receive over the following years. What it did do was give me a sense of pride, and I no longer felt inferior or out of place. As an adult, whenever my wife and I went out, people continued to stare.

Over the years, going here and there I would see another tall person. We always seemed to recognize our predicament being members in good standing, in the “tall club,” and did so with a look or nod. We were different, and most were proud of it.

In 1970, we planned a trip to Las Vegas. We attended the usual shows, played a few games, and then ended up in a place I always tried to avoid – a club with a dance floor. My wife loved to dance and back home we went out often. I always tried to pick clubs where I wouldn’t know anyone. In Denver that was hard to do, but in Los Angeles it was easy.

We sat and watched people dance. My wife wanted to join in, but once again that ugly old Mr. Embarrassment raised his head.

“I’m too tall, honey,” I said. “My head will stick out like a sore thumb.”

“If you go, I’ll go.” The man’s voice came from the table behind us.

We both turned and found Wilt Chamberlain, the basketball super star, and his pretty date sitting at the table behind us. The pretty date also wanted to dance, but Wilt didn’t.

“You feel as I do on the dance floor?” I asked.

“Worse. Listen, if you’re game enough to go down to the dance floor and wiggle your body, I’ll be right next to you.”

We introduced ourselves, chatted a few minutes and then got out on the dance floor. It was amazing. The feeling of standing out in a crowd disappeared. We stayed out on the dance floor, and side by side with, Wilt Chamberlain we danced half the night away.

Whenever we attended a Los Angeles Laker game, I always said hello to my Las Vegas dance partner. It always created a laugh and another shared story with one of his teammates.

Looking back, regardless of the type of person you are or where you’re from there are always little minions who dance and play with our brains. Everyone has little fears and most are able to hide them from others. On occasion, these little episodes expose the vulnerability we all have or the weakness we believe we possess. It only takes one great moment to put it all behind you. As Wilt and I discussed, it was silly to allow the kind of dance embarrassment we both felt when the chance of ever seeing anyone from that club again in our lifetime was minuscule. That alone gave us both a good laugh. We knew it was true, just hard to get over.

Since that night, my height has never been an issue or embarrassment. It was a little cure of something I grew up with, a form of being bullied for something totally out of my control. It was a nice weight to have been lifted from my shoulders. I wish everyone could be freed from the inhibitions that hound us all, and live freely without humiliation or being intimidated.

William Byron Hillman © 2013

Web site: http://www.williamhillman.com

Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/williamhillman

Book Links:

Dream Searcher http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EC19DJW

Let’s Sue ‘Em http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009M9E790

Veronique and Murray: http://tinyurl.com/8xrmmu7

The Hard Way: http://tinyurl.com/86hgtz6

Zebra’s Rock and Me http://tinyurl.com/7b28qu6

Quigley’s Christmas Adventure http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ANVNQ6G

Rollie Kemp Books

Ghosts and Phantoms Part I: http://tinyurl.com/6wxef7g

Ghosts and Phantoms Part II: http://tinyurl.com/d7mtspu

APRIL: http://tinyurl.com/7gt9prd

Bad Rap: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DNIHCYI

HOLD MY HAND

HOLD MY HAND

A few years back, more than I want to remember, I was born and grew up on the South side of Chicago. It was an interesting neighborhood as people came from all over the world and settled here because they couldn’t afford something better.

My childhood best friend was Georgie, my next-door neighbor. We did everything together and equally got in trouble on the same equal basis. We were kids. Boys like to play in mud and coal, not to mention the fun it is to walk in the rain. Everyone knew Georgie, and I were boys just like all the other boys in the neighborhood. We never thought about getting dirty or watching the horrified looks of our parents when they barely could see the white in our eyes or the teeth when we smiled. We talked about our getting spanked and how our parents or grandparents were so serious about everything. Like I said, we were kids.

My aunt Minnie was a cook. She was very good but didn’t make much money. Rich people had Minnie cook special dinners for them, and she always brought home the leftovers for us to feast on. Georgie’s grandma and my aunt were best friends, so Aunt Minnie always made sure there was enough leftover food to share. When we had these special meals, Georgie family had what we had. It was just the natural thing to do. Sometimes we would all talk and eat together. Those were cool times. Georgie’s mom and dad worked all the time like my dad, so there were times it was just my grandpa, Aunt Minnie, Georgie’s grandma and us kids. Sometimes, when it was possible for my mom, she would join us. It was fun how we all laughed and had so much fun.

A man who lived down the street was a junk man. I’m not sure what he did, but he sure had a lot of junk that he collected from people who didn’t want it anymore. One day he gave Georgie and me pup tents. We each got one because we liked to help him carry stuff into his house and he couldn’t pay us, so the tents were like getting paid. We put the tents in the backyard, took turns sleeping in each other’s backyard and loved to watch the stars and the strange formations of the night clouds when they drifted above us.

I remember asking Georgie why his skin was so different from mine. He told me he didn’t know that God probably made us different so he could tell the difference between us. Georgie’s skin was like chocolate and mine like milk. I never heard anyone say why there was a difference in our skin. Georgie and I wondered why we weren't told us about skin colors or why they didn’t match. We assumed it didn't make any difference. He was Georgie, and I was Billy, and we were best friends. His mom and dad were like my mom and dad. His grandpa and mine were best friends too, and seemed to talk and laugh about the dumbest things.

Those were some of the best times in my life.

When Georgie’s grandfather fell down, we thought he’d just get back up. He didn’t get back up. In fact, he never got up at all. I was young and didn’t know about people dying or what it meant. They brought Georgie’s grandpa home and put the casket in their living room. Neighbors came to pay their respects. Georgie and I kept thinking everything would be okay. We watched to see if his grandpa would get up, and crawl out of the box he was in.  We didn’t understand why his grandma and all the other people in the house were crying so much.

The Minister came to the house and said some prayers. Everyone was sad.

Georgie’s grandma reached out with her soft callused had and whispered to me. “Billy, hold my hand.” At the time, her hand was much larger than mine, but it was so warm and comforting I didn’t want to let go. We all gathered around the casket, heads bowed and the Minister starting talking about Georgie’s grandpa. He talked about how hard he worked, and badly he would be missed. When he finished, Georgie’s grandma continued to hold our hands. She led us to the couch where we sat. She wrapped her arms around both Georgie and me and after a while asked if we wanted to say goodbye to his grandpa.

I remember asking, “Where is he going?”

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she answered in the softest of voices, “To Heaven.”

“Is it a long trip?” I asked.

“No,” she whispered, “but he won’t be coming back. He’ll be with God.”

I looked at Georgie and he started crying, so I cried along with him. I looked back at his grandma and wiped the tears away with the back of my hand. “I think we should say goodbye.”

Georgie’s grandma stood and reached out with both hands. “Come, hold my hand boys and we’ll all go and say goodbye.”

Hold her hand we did. We said goodbye to Georgie’s grandpa and she let me touch his cheek. When I was younger I used to touch his cheek when I sat on his lap. He always laughed when I touched his cheeks, and I wanted him to laugh again, but he didn’t. When I whispered goodbye it felt strange, and for the first time in my life I understood what death meant I would never see him again. It broke my heart like it did Georgie’s and his grandma. We all cried together.

Not long after that everything changed in my life. We moved away from Chicago and although Georgie, and I promised we would never lose touch, we did. It was out of our hands, and we were too young to be able to honor the commitment. His family also moved, and we had no idea where they went. My family settled in Denver Colorado and soon after that I learned quite a lot about how different everyone thought about each other.

Throughout my adulthood, I have honored the life I have been given and treated it as a gift. I come from that old school my grandpa taught me. He said it over and over if you reach out others would do the same back to you.  One helping hand can change a life, an attitude and the workplace.

In a way, the life of an innocent child had it right. Georgie wasn’t the black boy who lived next door; he was Georgie my best friend. Today I have neighbors with different colored skin, and they all have names. The color of their skin means nothing, and if any of us need help the whole neighborhood would be there to help.

Too many years have gone by to remember their last names, but Georgie’s grandma taught me a lesson I have never forgotten. Hold My Hand and I will show you the way. Hold my hand for there is a better way and I’d like to show it to you.

We have a strange hate in the world, in our country and sadly in many neighborhoods. We have become a country divided and yet we’re all the same inside. Our skin color may be different, but our minds are equal in every way possible. He all hurt, feel pain, understand loss, and cry when things get out of hand or become an overwhelming burden to the body.

Many of my personal friends have been people of color, and each and every one of them had or has names just like I do. I am Bill, and they are Charles, Jim, Nan, Minnie, John and Pam. They are and have been welcomed in my home, my car and at my table. If given the chance, we laugh about the same things, shop on equal terms and even enjoy entertainment on the same level albeit auto racing, football, basketball, baseball, skiing, swimming and on and on.

So what happened? Why hasn't such an ugly division been done away with a long time ago? We can look back in history, but history has created enemies everywhere and most of the time color had nothing to do with it. Yes, slavery makes me sick to my stomach just knowing it happened. Thankfully it was a long time ago, and most have moved on. Many have not, and that’s their problem, and it needs to be dealt with. If we look at history, we’ve had wars, bad things have been happening for centuries and yet we have managed to move society into the 21st century. It’s time to move on, to put all the ugly where it belongs, in the past. May it be buried once and forever?

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. When a child is born, he or she comes into the world a bundle of joy. All babies are happy, content and know nothing of hate or anger.

Traits are taught and learned. If you live with kindness in your heart, everyone around you will grow and feel the same. There will always be danger and evil regardless of how we prepare for it, bad does happen. I look at it the other way. Good happens to. For every rotten apple, there are thousands of good ones. If we teach to love, honor and respect one another regardless of how people look, or the variations some have with their bodies, love will prevail. Love is a powerful thing. Georgie’s grandma taught me how to hug and hold hands, and I will always be grateful for the love she shared with a little boy named Billy.

It’s time to hold my hand and the hand of others. It’s time to feel the warmth of a friendly hand and pay forward not look in the rearview mirror. We can always find a reason to be angry, to start a fight, to use a weapon, to speak hateful things, but if and when we all stop and take a good look at the options, they look pretty good. We can do this thing called life and do it well. God is among us all, and if we move together instead of apart we can change things, and make our world a place of joy and happiness. As I often tell my friends, a smile goes a long way. Tell a stranger to hold your hand and then help when assistance is needed. There is nothing like helping a stranger feel welcomed.

William Byron Hillman © 2013

Web site: http://www.williamhillman.com

Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/williamhillman

Book Links:

Let’s Sue ‘Em http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009M9E790

Veronique and Murray: http://tinyurl.com/8xrmmu7

The Hard Way: http://tinyurl.com/86hgtz6

Zebra’s Rock and Me http://tinyurl.com/7b28qu6

Quigley’s Christmas Adventure http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ANVNQ6G

Rollie Kemp Books

Ghosts and Phantoms Part I: http://tinyurl.com/6wxef7g

Ghosts and Phantoms Part II: http://tinyurl.com/d7mtspu

APRIL: http://tinyurl.com/7gt9prd

Bad Rap: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DNIHCYI

I DON'T REMEMBER

I DON’T REMEMBER

We all hear this said by friends, mates, co-workers, politicians, and others we look up to and admire. The only problem is, they do remember yet chose to say they don’t.

Now I know this is different from I do remember, or, oh yeah I remember that, but when someone says “I don’t remember” and it’s of concern – something is amiss.

When I write, albeit a novel, screenplay or TV script, I must remember all the characters, locations and who was doing what where when and how. The whole project would get dumped if I forgot or didn't remember it all.

If I’m directing a film, I need to remember each scene, each location, how people looked and talked, which scene goes where, all the characters and what they said and did. I even have to remember promises made, who made them and why they were made. On top of all that, I must remember where each scene I shoot goes in the final film and remember to shoot it so the marriage with another scene is seamless.

I better have an answer and an explanation if the producer or studio asks me a question. Many of my friends and colleagues have lost jobs forgetting something critical that was missed or never shot. It’s too late to correct if the actors are released, or the locations are torn down, or eliminated. At the studio level, regardless of what various producers or directors to if their efforts fail and films produced lose money, the man at the top eventually gets replaced. It is, after all, the one and only boss’s responsibility to spend the studio’s money well, behave in a manner that provides profits and creates a product the public wants to see and actually goes to see it. Sometimes the leader gets replaced darned quickly when a few films fail.

Men and women working with equipment, records, books, financing and other occupations can’t afford to forget much of anything pertaining to their job or work. In some cases, one forgotten move could cost a life or limb, so it’s best to remember every significant move made.

In the military or foreign service we must remember how to protect them if something goes wrong. This activity cannot be given to people unfamiliar with the territory or potential threats. Leaders appoint those who know a great deal and can be trusted to make correct decisions. If lives are on the line, certain positions require someone who will do everything in their power to save lives and not buckle under pressure. Still, this appointed person answers only to the ultimate boss, the leader. When we vote we sincerely trust the chosen leader to lead our country faithfully, correctly, efficiently, honestly and trustfully. After all, the people’s trust and safety depend on them, right?

Failure here is like having a dentist forget which tooth he was working on and drills into a perfectly healthy one or, God forbid, pulls the wrong tooth. It’s best if he or she remembers what they were doing.

Doctor’s can’t seriously say; “I don’t remember” when in the middle of surgery or are asked about a health issue or pending operation or treatment. It’s just not done or acceptable.

A husband or wife can’t get away with “I don’t remember.” Forget what the issue is, we just don’t say this without an argument or worse.

All this brings me to the point I’m trying to make. We hire, or as news reporters constantly remind us, we elect those who represent our best interests. They say all the time “This is what the people want,” or “This is what the public at large want,” or “This is why I was elected.” Ah, they all say this, right? It doesn’t matter which party, it’s a standard line they all use. They do what we, the people, want them to do. After all, we elected them. In short, we hired them to do an extremely specific job. THEY work for us, not the other way around.

When we expected change, the change expected is for the whole of us, everyone, right? It wasn’t designed to appeal only to the politician we hired, or elected. Remember … he or she works for us? That means all of us, regardless of party. The job of a politician is to do the job he or she was hired to do and no other. That said, the politicians who represents us should perform and accomplish the very things we put them into the office to do. They should vote for things we want, changes we hope for, and improvements that will make our lives better. They weren’t hired, or elected, to stick their nose in other business. The first thing on their agenda should be for our best interests. They must also learn how to compromise to get things done.

We all understand one single principle. We have one leader, one person who speaks on behalf of all others under him or her, one person who runs the whole show. All of those who work for, under or around them answer to only one. There is one leader, one chief, one person who guides all others in public office. They all answer to him. He knows about everything going on. He is the one responsible. He can’t forget one thing. He’s never out of the loop. No one dares make a move without his approval. In some countries when a person dares to defy their leader they are prosecuted, jailed or worse shot and killed.

So, to be straight and understood, the leader’s role is to lead, function with control and have a hands-on of everything that happens for him and for us. After all, we did hire, or elect, him, right? We put him in office because the belief was he would do his job. He would hire smart key people to head up various departments, venues and portions of the overall job he couldn’t possibly do singlehandedly. We, because we believed in him or her would trust that those chosen to do their jobs, would do them in the professional grade expected, be honest, forthright and have an open policy about all they did. We should know about everything our leaders do and don't do. Short of disclosing national security secrets, we have the right to know. If they did these simple functions there would be no lies, cover-ups, or putting personal issues ahead of the job. In each case, we would expect nothing less than a hands-on job that would provide security and peace of mind.

“I don’t remember,” isn’t acceptable dialogue is it? I mean, we didn’t expect to hire, or elect, a person who wasn’t hands on, who didn’t know what others were doing for us and yet had his approval, did we? Remember we still have one boss, one leader, one person who approves everything and over-sees it all, right?

We want the truth when people run amuck, spend our money foolishly, vote on things we don’t want and never did want, or pour our money into businesses the country doesn’t own or operate one hundred percent of. If anyone does foolish things or endangers anyone regardless of party or affiliation, they should be replaced. If someone can’t do their job, they shouldn’t be rewarded or given a raise, they should be fired as would be done in any other business in the world.

We, the people, have a truly outdated tax system, and it was run aground. If it were a ship, it would have a massive hole in her hull. The vessel would be taking on large amounts of water that would eventually sink it. Our taxes should be simple, printed on one page, be flat and fair for everyone, and more importantly, totally eliminate an internal revenue system that has forgotten it’s most prestigious issue … they work for us, right? Once this gets done it will raise more revenue and reduce the national debt faster than any other proposal. The national debt has risen from 9 trillion to 17 trillion dollars in only four years. For those who aren’t good with numbers, our national debt will have doubled in five short years.

If the public, that’s all of us regardless of party, feel we have been wronged, they, the whole of the organization should and needs to be replaced with a better system. After all, we didn’t hire them, or elect them to put fear into us did we? Wait, did we lose control here? Do they now look at us as though they are our bosses? Oops. That’s not how it works, is it? We the people, that's all of us, hired everyone that’s in public office to represent us. If that’s the case we should be able to get rid of them, fire them, replace them and look for a better solution. We should not tolerate those who do wrong with rewards, or those forced out of a job poorly done only to be given a better one with a raise in salary. What about those who lied or twisted the rules? Why should they be given a raise? Short of death, most if not all civil servant jobs can't be fired or replaced even when they are wrongdoers.  What kind of a mess do we have that allows such behavior right beneath our nose? We hire people and then have no right to get rid of them when they lie or make our lives miserable. Aren’t we the precise people who hired them? Wow, talk about things going wacko.

“I don’t remember. I don’t recall. To do that, for me, I depend on others. I didn’t have anything to do with that. Or; I didn’t make that call.” This kind of irresponsible behavior doesn’t work anymore because we're sick of hearing it. We hired a leader, voted him into office, and he should know how to manage everyone under him, right? Didn’t the leader handpick most of those working in key positions? What do we do when we, the people, have been wronged or lied to? What are we to do now?

Does anyone care? Have we become so blind it doesn’t matter anymore? Has politics really taken away our vision, our future and freedom? Has it all been lost? To the outsider, we, the nation, have become a flock of sheep, followers to the cliff’s edge. We have created such a mammoth debt it’s scary, and how we pay it down even scarier if something isn’t done to curtail it. Even the greatest country in the world can run out of money and no longer be able to pay our bills. We can only print so much currency before the dollar becomes worthless to the global market.

What has taken place isn't a coincidence. If you are naive enough to believe it's cool, and one side won the battle, there is lots of swampland you should buy in Florida as a solid investment. Don't think for a minute if one side can do this to society and get away with it, the tide will eventually turn, and the other party will be in control. Retaliation is possible, which would potentially have results so horrible that even the most open of minds would view the events as the end of time and freedom as we know it. Like a spreading cancer, the wicked needs to be cut out now, stopped before it gets out of control, and the critical needs to be replaced with new blood and new thinking that will involve all of us. We have allowed ourselves to be bullied into believing things are right, and only a few are wrong. That's not even close to the truth. When we hear it's too bad what has taken place and everything will be done to make sure it never happens again - we need to take a long hard look and realized this is nothing but a sneaky way of saying I screwed up, let's brush it under the carpet, move on and hope no one else makes the same mistake. People who say this are part of cancer that needs to be removed. We need to come together and do it now.

It’s not all doom and gloom it’s just a wake up call. I hope we never reach the point where a phone call to 911 goes unanswered. It has nothing to do with one party or the other, they, the politicians are to blame, and democrats, republicans, independents and those not affiliated with any of the above are all to blame, but sadly that blame belongs on our shoulders because we put all of them in office. We hire them to protect us, put up safe guards, spend wisely, hold the runaway trains in check and be there for our rainy day. That has not happened. The Congress can’t pass a bill without adding piles of junk to it. It's pathetic enough, the Senate can’t agree what color toilet paper should be in their restrooms. How can they create an uncomplicated bill or law meant to cover one single purpose? Isn't that the idea, their leadership will benefit all? The whole of our government pass bills without reading them and then later try to explain why they did it. We hired them; we should have the right to fire them. It’s one man’s opinion, but I hear a lot of grumbling coming from every walk of life. Race or political-party has nothing to do with the problems. It’s the problem that has become our problem. The hate, one-sided decisions and anger need to be put aside – for a long time. Let’s find solutions. Let’s learn how to get along before it’s too late.

William Byron Hillman © 2013

Web site: http://www.williamhillman.com

Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/williamhillman

Book Links:

Let’s Sue ‘Em http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009M9E790

Veronique and Murray: http://tinyurl.com/8xrmmu7

The Hard Way: http://tinyurl.com/86hgtz6

Zebra’s Rock and Me http://tinyurl.com/7b28qu6

Quigley’s Christmas Adventure http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ANVNQ6G

Rollie Kemp Books

Ghosts and Phantoms Part I: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0056WR6I6

Ghosts and Phantoms Part II: http://tinyurl.com/d7mtspu

APRIL: http://tinyurl.com/7gt9prd

Bad Rap: (Coming June 2013)