Chicken Farmer I Still Love You

Driving along the backroads, heading towards a weekend of camping in Vermont, we passed by a rock set back from the roadside emblazoned with a message, “Chicken Farmer I Still Love You”.

I was driving our 38-feet of motorhome, towing a car carrying 2 kayaks, and my husband, knowing me all too well yelled out, “DO NOT STOP TO TAKE A PICTURE! We’re losing light!”

Rats! Losing light! That is the camper’s mantra, the driving force on which all major decisions are made. Losing light means a few minutes lost taking pictures of a cryptic message on a rock in the middle of nowhere might make the difference between having to pull into a tight space in pitch black deep-woods dark, or maybe, hopefully, having a wee bit of light by which to maneuver our bulk into a harbor of rest. I drove on, but the image of that rock, which came to be known as “Chicken Rock”, stuck with us through the winter.


Give me your poor...

“Give me your poor, your tired, your huddled masses…..”

…and watch me ruin their health.

Sitting cross-legged at my maternal grandparent’s feet during family gatherings, I never tired of hearing them recount their “Coming to America” experiences. My favorite scene was their description of standing at the feet of Lady Liberty, while my grandfather read “Emma Lazarus poem, The New Colossus. Unfortunately, the meaning of both poem and “Lady Enlightenment”, her proper name, are now controversial, with some contending she was never designed as a welcome mat.

At the time my grandparents arrived, America was courting people exactly like them – people who were educated, self-sufficient and would further strengthen, rather than weaken, the fabric of life. Their values and religion were not foreign, their God the same as the One worshiped by Founding Fathers. They didn’t come empty-handed, but instead, brought along one newborn baby, a few dozen neighbors and friends of the same culture and language, and together, built their new lives.


Travel Challenge!

Have I ever blogged about my love of traveling? This game is a good way to hone up on my geography skills while I’m grounded with 24/7 parenting. But some day, I’ll be packing my bags again, and until then, I’ll keep trying to beat my own score of 97. See what yours is! Click “more” to play it! -Sharon


Shadow Boxing

This past Sunday, we took the entire family to a Sunday matinée theater-production of “A Christmas Carol”. The children were so cute, fascinated with every creative aspect – dancing, strolling carolers, singing – so much so, they’re still re-enacting favorite scenes.

There was one tense moment, at the very beginning, when Scrooge delivered his grumpy, heart-of-stone “boiled with his own pudding” line at which Daniel’s Autism kicked into high gear.

Rising from his chair, he thrust a shaking pointer finger at Scrooge, fully intending to confront what he perceived to be a personal attack.

In Daniel’s World, the entire audience had melted away.

Fortunately, what he lacks in the ability to interpret intent or to modulate his voice, I make up for in speed. Before he tempestuously sputtered more than, “You!”, he found himself muffled and transported, firmly held in my lap.

Quickly remembering his manners, he stage-whispered, to the chuckling-amusement of those around us, ““Oh! Sorry! So, Mommy, he’s one of those people who hates God, isn’t he!”

Out of the mouth of babes.


"Sorry" Doesn't Cut It Anymore

I dug out a few “vintage”, safely tucked-away, board games from my childhood – “Sorry”, “Parcheesi”, and “Trouble”. They looked practically brand-new just-off-the-shelf, even though they’d had several decades of use. My children gathered around looking curious, a bit suspicious. My explanation of the rules and strategies didn’t garner enthusiasm. It wasn’t long before my astute and bright children observed that when I explained one, I’d explained them all.

“So”, they repeated back to me, “you throw the dice, or ‘pop’ the dice container, then move your ‘men’ the total count, and try to be the first one to land all your players home.”

“Yep”, I agreed, sagging, “that’s about it”. I brightened up, having thought of one more key point, “But! But, you can send a person BACK and they have to start ALL over again!”

They still weren’t impressed.


As if I needed another reason.....

…to appreciate homeschooling, I’m archiving the following article as a reminder. Of late, I’ve noticed an increase in what I consider to be VIOLENCE against children in our society by those who should, instead be protecting them. Another aspect of these increasing incidents – where children are treated as adults, instead of minors in need of admonition and instruction – is this may well be the result of the trend in America to give a minor child “rights”,
equal with that of an adult. The American Library Association, for example, has written their own “Bill of Rights” encouraging libraries to treat a minor child’s “right” to privacy on par with that of an adult, something I’ve experienced and written about in a recent blog. When we grant minor children “rights”, the Constitutionally guaranteed rights of the parents is undermined, usurping parental authority. When the “state” or government interferes with the natural God-created roles of authority and accountability within the family structure, we no longer have a republic, but instead, a fascist society.


Homeschooling - Last American Freedom?

Not content with brain-washing the majority of America’s children with dumbed-down socialist values where self-esteem reigns supreme and individual thinking skills are frowned upon, the NEA is now gunning for homeschoolers, the last bastion of America freedom still protected by American federal law.

Their anti-homeschooling agenda can be found in the 2007 Recap, in section B-75, NEA’s 2007 Pittsburgh Convention Recap


Nothing's Too Hard for God

Job 40: 1 And the LORD said to Job: 2 “Shall a faultfinder contend with the Almighty? He who argues with God, let him answer it.” 3 Then Job answered the LORD: 4 “Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer thee? I lay my hand on my mouth. 5 I have spoken once, and I will not answer; twice, but I will proceed no further.” 6 Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind: 7 “Gird up your loins like a man; I will question you, and you declare to me. 8 Will you even put me in the wrong? Will you condemn me that you may be justified? 9 Have you an arm like God, and can you thunder with a voice like his?

A friend is dying. If I had written what was on my heart, six months ago, I would have revealed an inclination toward rumbling with my God, the One with a voice that can thunder.


Sign of the Times

Pictures are worth a thousand words. But that never kept me from putting down thoughts…..

We snapped this photo a few days short of the bulldozer showing up, demolishing yet another New England antique store from the face of the earth.


An Evening with James.....Taylor

I don’t like name-dropping but, well, we spent what felt like an intimate evening with James Taylor last night – a wonderful way to bring summer to a close. “We” included a few thousand other souls, in addition to my family, but it felt as if James was conversing with each and everyone one of us. Billed as an “intimate retrospective of 40 years of songs”, this particular tour began in Connecticut, over a week ago, and will end September 9th at Radio City Music Hall. The show is simple in design, without a big back-up band or singers, something which could have made a few of the songs flop, but handled nicely by video projection and a really great sound system.