You're Fired.

 You're Fired!

Recently a headline of our everyday, every minute news broadcasting the latest providing us citizens information on what’s going on somewhere else, by someone else. One headline in bold type stated: “You’re Fired.” The inside story was about a previous administration politically appointed individual who spoke against President Trump and his fascist discriminative ways being dismissed from his position. This brought back memories of the TV series: “The Apprentice.”

Hmm? Everything has a beginning, a history. Yes, even commonly used phrases have a starting point, a beginning somewhere in past history. So, I wondered where and when did that phrase have its beginning. You may already perceive where I’m going with this, but anyway here goes. I entered the phrase into the computer search box and up popped many bold typed headlines with answers, one of which was that TV series when Trump is facing the contestants announcing which of them is being terminated from the next segment saying: “You’re fired.” The camera focused on the look on that person’s face revealing the disappointment, the dismay of not meeting his standards of performance.

Another explanation referred back to times of clans and tribes when a person committed a serious offense and they burned down his home.

Another explanation went back to 1885 indicating that it was a play on the word ‘discharged’ which has two meanings: dismissal of an employee, or to fire a projectile or weapon.

On this earth of ours we see the effects of fire in Volcanoes, forest fires destroying neighborhoods, wild fires burning brush, lightning strikes causing fires and the casual burning cigarette being throw out the car window. We enjoy sitting around the campfire roasting marshmallows. We enjoy the warmth of a fireplace and in olden days the light provided by a wick burning within a glass.

Interesting, but still not conclusive for me as I seek to retrieve older historical records of the first beginnings from the most read, most publicized book ever, the one translated into every language: The Bible. First: the story of the old cities of Sodom and Gomorrah when burning sulfur destroyed the area because of the wickedness.

How about this one from Isaiah: “then they will go forth and look on the corpses of the men who have transgressed against me for their worm will not die and their fire will not be quenched: And they will be an abhorrence to all mankind.”

From the book of Revelation: “He also will drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is mixed in full strength in the cup of His anger; and he will be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb.” 14:10

This also from Revelation: “And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death. And whosoever was not found in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire.” 20:14-15

“So shall it be at the end of the world: the angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked from among the just. And shall cast them into the furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth.” Matthew 13:49-50

“If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off, for it is better for you to enter life crippled than having your two hands to go into hell; into the unquenched fire. Mark 9:43

Is that enough? We sure don’t hear many, if any sermons on this topic anymore, do we? Why is that? Do we disbelieve, dismiss these verses as being uncharacteristic of the merciful, gracious all caring creator Almighty God, who wouldn’t or couldn’t do such a thing as it goes against His goodness.

Sorry, but “You’re Fired.”

The Game of Chess

As I  was fingering through the news this morning, I came upon an article in World Magazine about the game of chess that caught my attention. If my memory is correct, chess was a game we army brats played to pass the time while serving in Germany. I’m not that good, but the game is fascinating requiring concentration rather than quick decisions. Seth, my grandson, at the age of sixteen, beat me a few years back. And, the game is prominent in my novel “Just a Matter of Time.”

“We’re going to play chess,” Jimmy says, looking to Julia for a reaction.

“Chess? Yeah,” Julia says. “Ah, you’re one of those, are you? Yeah, thinking girls can’t play that game of analytics and deep concentration. Ha, this is going to be fun.” 
She looks at the Director. “We may forgo lunch.”

From World Magazine, I quote:
“Success Academy, a newer network of 48 charter schools in the city(New York), now requires chess instruction for students in kindergarten through second grade. (After second grade, students can elect to take chess classes and can specialize in chess when they’re in high school.) The network’s chess program has about 10,000 students a year.
The philosophy behind requiring chess: It develops analytical thinking skills, concentration, and self-control. Times, the head of Success’ chess program, says learning chess has similar effects on the brain as learning a language. A study of New York students in 1993 showed that chess improved reading scores, while previous studies showed math improvements. Chess students might be a self-selected group, so those studies aren’t conclusive, but chess clearly improves basic skills like concentration and creativity.”

https://world.wng.org/2019/08/life_after_chess

Which are we?

So, which are we here in the US?

A Republic is a "popular government" where the people rule themselves, being conscious that each citizen will be held accountable to a God who wants them to be fair.

A Monarchy is a king with strings attached, having a conscience and being limited by laws, traditions, Judeo-Christian beliefs, and a class of powerful noblemen.

A Despotism is a king with no strings attached, who rules without a conscience, according to his whims and caprices, exercising absolute and arbitrary power: absolute, meaning the moment he says something it is the law; and arbitrary, meaning no one can predict what he will say next.

From Montesquieu “Spirit of Laws”, from way back in the 18^th century.

Has the US morohed from a Republic to a Monarchy, with signs of Despotism?

Just a Matter of Time. Preview of chapter One

Here's a section of the first chapter of "Just a Matter of Time."

One

Janice Amwestson carefully steps between the rows of vegetables in her backyard garden alongside the greenhouse. She looks over the roof of the greenhouse, her ears tuned for a whirling noise. She directs her gaze over the house, into the blanket of treetops, as the rising sun illuminates the scattered white fluffy clouds. Another beautiful day.

Her husband, Robert, hollers out the back door, “Honey, I’m leaving. I may be a bit later at the office. I’m taking the bike. Got that meeting tomorrow evening.”

“Be careful,” Janice replies as the screen door squeaks.

Janice has a wicker basket over her left forearm that holds a few of the selectively chosen first ripened tomatoes, an immature head of iceberg lettuce and a few cucumbers. She methodically bites into a tomato concentrating on the taste. She pauses and looks at the other half. How magnificent this is.

Arlene’s voice from the other side of the picket fence interrupts her thoughts. “Hey, Jan. How’s it going? Are those the first?”

“Oh, good morning Arlene,” Janice answers, looking to her neighbor standing near the vine-topped gazebo.

“Didn’t disturb you, did I?” Arlene asks.

“No, no,” Janice replies. “What’s going on with you guys? Anything new?” Smiling, Janice gently steps over the row of lettuce and onto the double railroad tie border. “Here, try one of these.” Janice picks a cherry tomato out of the basket and hands it over the wood fence to Arlene. “They’re terrific, but you’ll have to get your salt.”

“Thanks.” Arlene slowly bites the tomato in half.

“How many of those white seeds are in there?” Janice shares her thoughts. “It’s amazing whenever I take the time to look at the details of these things we thoughtlessly devour. We enjoy the flavor while thinking of something else, never pondering the nature of a simple tomato. How did it grow up from one of those white seeds? What enables it to do that?” 

“Huh?”

“You weren’t listening?”

“My mind was wandering again,” Arlene replies. “You guys still having that meeting?”

“Yes, you’re coming, aren’t you?”

“No, Charlie changed his mind. And I agree. It’s too much.”

“What do you mean, too much?”

“Well, come on Jan, don’t you think you are getting into dangerous territory? You’re crossing the line.”

Janice interrupts. “We’ve heard that before, and we’ll handle that if it comes. But I wish you would. After what happened to the Smiths, you’re going to drop it? You guys were all for it. Why the change?”

“We’ve got to protect ourselves now that our retirements are so close. We could lose everything Charlie’s worked so hard for, and mine too. Now the kids, they need our help.”

“Why? What happened? Are they all right?” Janice responds.

“Not that well. It’s falling apart. We learned last night that Bruce might lose his job, and Maycie is experiencing excruciating pains from that recent back surgery. He told us that the doctor couldn’t increase the medications.”

“I’m sorry.” Janice reaches across the fence to touch Arlene’s hand.

“She tries to sleep through it, has even thought of putting the girls in the developmental center. Bruce is beside himself. He called 911 the other night, but they told him that unless she was in imminent danger, they couldn’t dispense an ambulance.”

“That sounds about right.”

“Bruce would have to take her to the ER and bring the kids along too. But the insurance wouldn’t pay for it if her doctor would not allow the additional dosage. He is blaming himself for her accident. He’s been to confession a dozen times. He took time off work to stay with her through the first couple weeks, and now he’s about to be fired. Something about insurance.”

“You’re still going to take that trip to Alaska?” Janice asks.

“Nah, that’s been put on hold. You guys pray. Remember us, will you?”

“Sure, Arlene. I’ll mention it at the meeting.”

“Thanks, we’re packing to head over there to see . . . Well, to comfort them, see the kids, and engage Maycie a bit. Try to get her mind sidetracked from her body discomfort. And, ah, to give Bruce a break too.”

“Good for you. Tell Maycie that we’ll be praying for her. Here, she may enjoy some fresh fruit.” Janice hands Arlene the basket.

“Thanks.”

“Keep me informed.”

“I may stay a week or so. You may not hear from me until I get back.” 

Arlene looks to the sky around the homes and leans in close to the fence, whispering, “You have any Oxycontin left over from Robert’s surgery?”

“Huh?”

“Yes, that pain medicine Robert had.”

“Even if we did, you know I can’t give you any.”

“Oh, come on. Nobody will know.”

“I’ll know.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone. Maycie is suffering.”

“Arlene, it’s wrong and against the law.”

“Come now! It’s for Maycie. She needs something.”

“I can’t. You know that.”

Arlene’s demeanor turns sour. “Yeah, you and all your self-righteous bunch. You go out helping the homeless and won’t help a neighbor.”

“Arlene. I can’t. You know that.”

“Yeah, you do it all the time on those trips you take.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.” Arlene looks up and loudly says into the air. “There’s a meeting here tomorrow.”

“Arlene, stop it,” Janice yells, trying to reach across the fence for her neighbor’s hand.  “I know you’re up against a wall. We’d both be in trouble. You’re a good friend, and I’d do anything for you, but this, you know I can’t.”

“Oh, forget it.” Arlene turns away, stomps back toward the house muttering, “Go ahead have that meeting of yours. Get back into that closet. Damn hypocrites!”

“Arlene, wait! Arlene!” Janice shouts, as her friend slams the door shut. Janice freezes, dumbfounded. She stares at the screen door. Is this a nightmare? A dream? What happened? What? What? Why?  Forgetting the veggies, Janice slowly walks back to the house pausing every few steps to look toward Arlene’s back door. “Why, Lord? Why?” She steps up on the deck and takes one last look at Arlene’s back door.