State of Franklin

 

At about this time in 1784, the State of Franklin declares its independence from North Carolina. Did you know that a state named Franklin could have been the 14th state?

 

After the American Revolution, North Carolina stretched from the eastern seaboard all the way to the Mississippi River. The western part of the state was separated from the eastern part by a mountain range. Especially given the travel difficulties of the day, you can imagine that the westerners felt barely connected to the eastern side of the state—and vice versa.

 

The North Carolina legislature didn’t really want to be responsible for the western lands anymore, but legislators didn’t want to lose an asset, either. The legislature ended up passing an act known as the “Land Grab Act” by which western lands were put on sale. Much of the land was sold to legislators. Hmmm. Let’s just say that some of the sales that resulted probably weren’t entirely above board. Nevertheless, the state legislators passed an act ceding all remaining lands to the federal government. In return, the Confederation Congress was supposed to accept, as valid, all the grants of land that had already been made.

 

The cessation pushed several western counties into action. On August 23, 1784, residents met and declared themselves a new state named Franklin (for Benjamin Franklin). For a time, things seemed to be working. A state constitution was adopted, and John Sevier was elected as the first state governor. But then, unsurprisingly, matters became complicated.

 

For one thing, Americans were in negotiations with the Cherokee to determine who held which territory. Unfortunately, the outcome of these negotiations contradicted the outcome of Franklin’s negotiations. Other clashes occurred between the state and federal governments. Many Franklinites became tired of the situation.

 

In the end, a man named John Tipton became head of a movement to have Franklin reabsorbed back into North Carolina. But Sevier continued to advocate for the State of Franklin. At one point, Sevier even considered getting Spain to annex the state! A skirmish—the Battle of Franklin—brought matters to a head. Sevier was at first arrested for treason, but by early 1789, he had agreed to take an oath of allegiance to North Carolina.

 

After Franklin was dissolved, North Carolina ceded the land to the federal government. A few years later, the new territory became the state of Tennessee. I suppose Sevier got the last laugh?! He was elected as Tennessee’s first governor in 1796.

‪---------------------------

copyright © 2013-2025 by Tara Ross. 

Family and Home

 Family

What does family mean to you? Take a minute to maybe write down your own definition of a family. If you compare your definition with others, I'm sure you will find both similarities and differences. For example, would your definition of family include:

1. A friend or neighbor who is not a blood or legal relative (maybe a close friend who lost their house and all their belongings in a storm)
   
2. An adopted or foster child
3. Children who were once step-siblings after the remarried couple divorces
4. A married couple (relative or close friend) without children
5. A relative or close friend who cannot live independently on their own
   
6. A sibling who married outside the family’s religious faith and/or race
   
7. A beloved family dog or cat
8. The spouse of a deceased relative or friend
   

You might be surprised to learn how others respond to these different family types. In fact, you might be surprised at how you respond. What would be your reasoning for including a particular family type or leaving them out? Defining who is and is not family is foundational to your identity, communication, and how you live your life. 

 

My personal definition of "family" includes all of the above. I would consider opening my home to a close friend or neighbor who might have lost their home to weather or fire related circumstances. An adopted or foster child that I have grown to love. Children who were once step-siblings and have no where else to turn (Lolly & I have one of those). A married couple with or without children who have lost everything and needs help. A person who cannot live independently on their own. I would not turn away a sibling who married outside my or the family’s religious faith or race. Inclusion of those who need help into my "family", whether or not they are "blood" relatives, is part of my belief, faith and trust in God. 

 

Rather than simply defining family by a dictionary definition, each individual should look to define a family by their own standards. You can have several families in your lifetime, even several families at once if you choose, such as your spouse's family, your "blood" family, work family or family of friends.  Regardless of how you define your family unit, whether traditional or unique, your definition is of the family unit that works for you. As the saying goes, "Family is what you make it." Whether made up of blood relatives, friends, pets, or a combination of these, your family can offer you the support you need to thrive.

Part of navigating life’s many challenges, finding and being welcomed as part of a family is one of our most central needs and a gift we can offer to others. We also take comfort in knowing there is no one way to be a family. This knowledge helps us understand and appreciate families in all their breadth and richness as they develop and change over the course of time. Rather than put up roadblocks, we all have an opportunity to benefit, learn from, and support families among our neighbors, community members, and among our own household and extended family. 

There is no perfect family, we do not have perfect parents, we do not marry a perfect person or we do not have perfect children. We sometimes complain about each other. We sometimes offend one another. We are sometimes disappointed with each other. Yes for so many reasons at various times we find it hard to get along with one another. For these reasons, there is no healthy marriage or healthy family without the exercise of forgiveness. Forgiveness is the medicine of family joy and happiness. Forgiveness is vital to our emotional health and spiritual survival. No matter the offense or who is the offender. Without forgiveness, the family becomes an arena of conflict and a fortress of evil. Without forgiveness, the family becomes sick and unhealthy.  Forgiveness is the healer of the soul, the purification of the spirit and the liberation of the heart. 

 

No sin is too big to be forgiven. He who does not forgive does not have peace in his soul  and can not have communion with God. Unforgiving is Evil and a poison that intoxicates and kills the one who refuses to forgive.  Keeping forgiveness  in your heart is a self-destructive gesture. Those who do not forgive are physically, emotionally and spiritually ill. 

 

The family must be a place of life and not a place of death; a place of forgiveness, a place of paradise and not a place of hell; A healing territory and not a disease; an internship of forgiveness and not guilt. Forgiveness brings joy where sorrow has brought sadness; of Healing where sorrow has caused  disease. 

 

A family is a place of support and not of gossip and slander of one another. It must be a place of welcome not a place of rejection. Shame to those who plant evil about others. The individuals who form a family are not enemies. When anyone in a family is going through a challenge they need support of others in that family.

Home

What images does your mind conjure up when you think of home? The house where you grew up? Family? Friends? A city or town? The house where you presently live? Or is home a state of mind?  

When I think of home I think of love. It is where I get love and give love, freely with no strings attached. Home to me, is not a “place” it is a collective group of personal attitudes and emotions from the people around me that accept me and my life as it is, with no apologies, no expectations and requiring no changes.

 

Home is a feeling of belonging, where my beliefs are not held against me; where my action or inaction are not judged; where my words are not manipulated or taken out of context. It's a place of peace and happiness and a reflection of my identity.  

 

Home is a place of caring and sharing. Caring that comes from the heart, based on God's love for us and our sharing of that love with those around us. Home is a place of caring and sharing with no expectations, judgements of past or present life experiences or restrictions.

My concept of home has been shaped by culture, both my wife's culture and mine, along with our families and experiences. Home is a place where I can reflect on the past, a place where I can talk about the present without fear of judgement, retribution or resentment and a place to dream about the future. Home is that little slice of paradise that is completely my own. Home is also something I am willing to share with those who try to understand me and my life without judgement or resentment. 

Home is a place where "love your neighbor" is a way of life, not just a commandment we say should be followed. I've grown to adopt a sharing way of life. It's closer to the path that Jesus took when he walked the earth. It has made me and the people around me more tolerant of each other and more joyful.   

My wife and I are under 2 Flags, from 2 Countries, of 2 Cultures, but of 1 Heart. Families should also be of one heart and that heart should be nurtured through love, respect for each other, caring for each other and sharing that love, respect and caring with all those we come in contact with. In my heart, mind and soul, family and home are both one and the same. Family is not people, Home is not a place; they are both feelings and emotions that are born out of respect, love and caring.  

My "Special" Home 

Most of the places I called "home" in my younger years have changed so much, I probably would not recognize them today and in many of those places, the memories have faded with the changes. When you move around a lot, a move tends to turn a former home into just a place you used to live. But there is one "home" that has resisted that change to being just a place, a home that although I miss it, I can never go back to. 

 

That's because it isn't a "place" its a feeling inside of me, a feeling from my soul. That "feeling" is made up of many different things. Its working my butt off for 3 or 4 days with no sleep, when I did sleep it was in my workspace or battle-station in a rickety old chair, kicked back on a workbench with my feet propped up on a stool; it's living on coffee and mid-rats for months at a time; Its bracing for incoming rounds; its standing inspection in the blazing heat on the flight-deck of a carrier; its underway replenishment working parties and 24 hour flight ops; its trying to make your way from one workspace to another during a cat 4 hurricane. Then just when I felt myself wilting to the deck from exhaustion, not caring about anything, a friend shoves a cup of coffee in my hand offers me a cigarette and tells me to take a break on the fantail. 

 

The fantail is a special place on a ship. Especially at night when the stars are out. Its quiet, so quiet you can hear the silence of the sea. The fantail is for thinking and dreaming, sometimes they are both the same. The fantail rejuvenates you like nothing else, after about 10 minutes I was always ready to jump into the chaos of the next catastrophe. 

Shipboard life is different from every thing else, it can't be explained, it can only be experienced and once experienced, it never leaves you. You hate it because of the endless work, hard and rough times but you also love it with a love that can not be explained. Again, it can only be felt. Sometimes I think that if I was asked, I'd go back but I know that would be wrong. At my age, I would not be able to keep up with the younger sailors, I would be a burden and I just could not do that to a shipmate. Nothing can compare with being on a warship headed for enemy lines. ... And you haven't lived until you've lived through a WestPac Liberty.

 

President John F. Kennedy at the commissioning ceremony of the USS Oriskany said:

"I can imagine no more rewarding a career. And any man who may be asked in this century what he did to make his life worthwhile, I think can respond with a good deal of pride and satisfaction, I served in the United States Navy."

I agree.

 

My Realization of Self and God

I never thought much of my spirituality and how it affected the people around me. Especially my family, relatives and friends. I always thought it was strictly between myself and God; at least that is what I was taught in a Baptist Church, that is: My belief in God was between me and God, it didn't involve anyone else. Growing up as a young boy no one ever called me a name, or degraded me in any way because of my "religion" or my "religious practices." I never had to defend myself against harsh religious comments. I can't say that we all "respected" each other's religion; about sixth grade and below, we didn't really understand things such as respect and religion; Seventh grade and above; guys were more interested in girls and cars and girls were more interested in guys and their cars. Religion wasn't one of the personal characteristics we were interested in. As an adult however, it seams to be just the opposite. Religion and the religious practices of a person are very important to that person's family. Sometimes a change in a person's religion or religious practices causes such an outrage in that person's family that the person becomes ostracized from his or her family.

I grew up in a Baptist world, where Sunday mornings were devoted to Sunday School. An hour of stories about floods, seas parting, prisoners in cells with lions, and a young boy who killed a giant with a sling-shot and a rock. It was my imagination that let me visualize those stories in ways that helped me to understand and even visualize the unseen ‘God’ that my Sunday School teacher always talked about. As I grew from a boy to a man the US Navy helped me to explore not only the society and culture that I was a part of but also societies and cultures of the world around me. That and the wonderful woman I married, caused me to want to discover more about myself and how I fit into God’s grand scheme of things.

Much of that discovery and learning about myself and the Lord came after my retirement. Although I joked about sitting on the front porch drinking beer all day, I joined the Knights of Columbus. Through the fellowship with other Catholic men and their families, I was able to see Catholicism through many different eyes and circumstances. Through Knights of Columbus, I also had a chance to work in our local community along with men from other religions and walks of life. That opened my eyes to the importance of ‘love your neighbor’ and just being respectful of others. Unlike many Protestants who ‘converted’ I came to see Catholicism as a continuation of the beliefs of my childhood. I came to see the Mass as bringing back the ancient traditions of the Old Testament, the beginning of the Church and the works and actions of our beloved Saints. I did not start following Catholicism as a replacement to Baptist practices and traditions but as a fulfillment of those practices and traditions. The core beliefs of both Catholics and Protestants are the same. No part of Catholicism is outside of the Word of God. The Bible I read is the same as what most Protestants read.

My beliefs and spiritual practices are the same as they were when I left home at the age of 18. The only difference is that I became a Catholic. I worship the same God today as I did when I was 18. But because I changed "religion," Words such as "idol worshiper" and "Mary worshiper" have been used by those who I hold in very high esteem. 

Nothing, could be further from the truth. Catholics do not worship idols. We worship the way Jesus did, through prayer and living life according to the law as set down in the 10 Commandments. The “Mass” began when early Christians gathered together in their homes to share a meal in memory of Jesus, as he had asked them to do on the night before he died (“The Last Supper”). There is no "obligation," we attend Mass because we love God. We Catholics get together to pray, read the Scriptures, and share the meal as it is written in Acts 2:42-47:

"They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone was filled with awe at the many wonders and signs performed by the apostles. All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need. Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts, praising God and enjoying the favor of all the people. And the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved." 

There is is nothing in the modern Mass that is not in the Holy Scriptures. There is nothing in the modern Mass that is used out of the context that it was used in the Holy Scriptures. 

The life values I have now, have been born out of war, predigest, destruction,  love, kindness and sharing. I respect everyone and their view of how I live and worship, even if I don't agree with their assessment. when I was very young, patience was one of the things I lacked and a temper was something I had in abundance. Today I have an abundance of patients and the strength and guidance from God to use it wisely against the temper I once had. So, bring on your judgements of me but also know that I leave judgement to God. I will continue to live the religious practices, traditions and spiritual mannerisms I have learned from the Catholic Church, prayer and research. I leave it to the Lord to defend His religious practices, traditions and spiritual mannerisms as they are lived out in my life. 

Is it wrong to sit down and gaze upon a picture of someone long past, say, a parent? Someone you might have loved very much, and yearn for them to come back? Is it wrong to look at that picture and talk to that person as if he or she was there with you and tell him or her how much you miss him or her? Is it wrong for you to believe the person in that picture is in Heaven looking after you? Is it wrong to ask the person in the picture for help and believe that he or she is praying with you to God for an answer? Is it wrong to go to the grave-site of someone you love and discuss a problem with them? Is it wrong to ask that loved one to help you pray or to pray with you to God?
 
Through the Catholic Church, it's architecture, art, history and philosophy; I have come to know and believe in two families; my earthly one, consisting of my parents, sisters, my wife's family, friends and my spiritual family, consisting of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Pictures of my earthly family come from cameras, pictures of my spiritual family were made by Master carvers and artists. Both are made by humans.
 
The Rosary - nothing seems to say Catholic more than the Rosary. I've heard many say that it isn't found in the Bible. That's true, very true, the word Rosary is in fact not found in any Christian Bible. But, the Bible is in fact in the Rosary. Again, artwork created for those who could not read or write. The Rosary contains the New Testament, from the birth of Jesus to his death, resurrection and beyond. I use it every day as an aid in prayer, it helps to "make the world around me go away", so that I can speak and listen more reverently and clearly to God. If non-Catholics would just listen to the words or read the Rosary, especially the last sentence of the "Hail Mary," they would know that we are not praying to Mary or anyone else, we are in-fact praying only to God.  
 
My commitment to God and to religion did not happen over night. It happened over many years of searching self and soul; searching the earthly world and the spiritual world; searching various religions, cultures and ways of life. I have called on St. Peter, St. Paul and a few other saints who were once as human as I am now, in just the same way I still call on my Dad and Mom who have both passed away for advice. Catholicism as I know it, is not a religion, it's a way of life. A way of life defined not by anything earthly, but by a God that is open to everyone, a God who is compassionate but demanding unquestioned faith and belief.  
 
My self and soul search goes on and will keep going on; the earthly world tries to pull me in one direction, the spiritual world tries to pull me in another direction. I put no boundaries between my worlds, I try my best not to judge anyone in either world. I do my best to leave judgement to God.
 
It doesn't matter what we label ourselves as, Protestant, Catholic, Jehovah Witness, Methodist, ... What matters, to God, is how we live. Do we follow Jesus and his disciples? Or do we judge each other on how we go about our daily lives, how we as individuals worship, or how we as individuals interpret individual passages in the Bible? Do we throw away the Bible and peck at each other over "our" individual interpretation of individual passages of a very large book?

God made us all different, maybe we should accept the differences and accept each other as brothers and sisters the way Jesus accepted his disciples and all those who believed and had faith in him. "Catholic" is only a label, how and what I believe and have faith in along with how I worship is my way of life. It is between me and God and wrong for me to judge others on their way of life and wrong for them to judge me on how I live my life.

Lastly, through my research, Catholicism teaches me that I should not only "love" all of humanity, but that I should also respect everyone's race, age, sex, career, culture, customs, traditions, character, religion and their points of view. Essentially, as a Catholic, I should respect every aspect of every person's life. "Catholic" means universal. It is OK to respectfully disagree with someone but not OK to disrespect them or any part of their being. 

So, bring on your criticisms of how I live my life. I'll just pass them on to the Lord and let Him deal with them.

The Importance of the Family Rosary

Most of this post is taken from the booklet “Our Glorious Faith and How To Lose It” written by Fr. Hugh Thwaites, S.J. The booklet contains different stories of how we can lose our faith, but this blog post will deal only with the Holy Rosary and how it can bring us back to our glorious faith. 

 

Fr. Thwaites’ words on this subject are as follows:

 

Without delay now, I want to talk about my theme. It seems to me that a principal cause of the loss of faith is the dropping off in the practice of the family rosary.

 

In Austria, after World War II, there was a complete collapse of vocations. One year, apparently, no one at all entered the seminaries. So the bishops held a synod, to find out how it could be that this had happened. The conclusion they reached was that the war had so disrupted family life that the centuries-old practice of the rosary in the home had stopped, and had just not started up again. <Pogi's thoughts>This is my experience, too; when I stop praying the rosary,  my faith soon collapses<end>.

<Fr. Thwaites’ words >I remember someone telling me of a friend of his, a great Catholic, the pillar of the parish, whose children had all lapsed, one after the other. They had all fallen away from the sacraments and from attending Mass. So I said to him, “I wouldn’t mind betting that your friend had been brought up to recite the family rosary when he was a boy, and that his children haven’t.” The next time I saw him, he said that this was indeed true. His friend had recited the family rosary at home when he was a boy, and when he had got married and started his own family they ll said the rosary. But then, one evening when they were about to start the rosary, one of the children switched on the television, and that was that. The custom of the family rosary was dropped, and in due course, they gave up the practice of the faith.

 

After this life, that one unrebuked action will be seen to have affected the eternity of many people. God sent His Mother to Fatima to tell us that we had to say the rosary every day. There were no other prayers She asked us to say. Accordingly, we should do what She asked.

 

A layman I met once who did not say his rosary told me that he read the breviary every day. That is fine. It is what priests have to do. It is the prayer of the Church. So in a way it is better than the rosary. But it is not what Our Lady asked for. She asked for the rosary. If a mother sends her child to the shop for a bottle of milk, and he comes back instead with ice cream, is she pleased? In a way, ice cream is better than milk, but it is not what she asked for.

 

In that most holy home at Nazareth, do you think that Our Lady had to ask for anything twice? If we want in any way to be like Jesus, we must do what His Mother asks. If we do not, can we expect things to go right? We cannot with impunity disobey the Mother of God. She knows better than we the dangers of this spiritual warfare. She sees more clearly than we do the dangers that beset us. She warns us: You must say your rosary every day.

 

If the garage mechanic warns you that your car needs repairing or else it will break down, surely you would heed that warning. If the gas gauge warns you that you need more gas, do you do nothing about it? And if Our Lady comes to Fatima and tells us, not just once but six times, that we must say the rosary every day, do we disregard that warning? If we do, we have only ourselves to blame when we find that our children have lapsed from the faith.

 

I know that Fatima is only a private revelation, but nevertheless the Church has endorsed it, and that makes it rash for us to disregard it. If the Church informs us that Our Lady really did come to Fatima and tell us these things, then we must hearken to her words. It really seems to me that those Catholics who do not take Fatima seriously and say the rosary every day in their homes are very akin to the Jews who laughed at Jeremiah. If God sends us His prophets and we do not take them seriously – well, we have the whole of the Old Testament to tell us what happens as a result. But at Fatima, God sent us, not His prophets, but His Immaculate Mother. So I think that the abandonment of the family rosary is a main reason why so many Catholics have lost the faith. It seems to me that the Church of the future is going to consist solely of those families who have been faithful to the rosary. But there will be vast numbers of people whose families used to be Catholic.

 

In my work of going round visiting homes, I have seen this conclusion borne out time and again. Homes can be transformed by starting the recitation of the daily rosary. I remember a woman telling me that she could not thank me enough for having nagged her into starting it; it had united her family as never before. And I remember another home where I called. There was a strange tension there: the children were silent and the wife seemed withdrawn, but the husband was willing to start the family rosary. When I called back again a couple of months later, the atmosphere was quite different. The children were chatty and the wife was friendly, and the husband walked down the road with me afterwards and said how amazing it was that the home was so much happier.

 

One reason, I think, why the daily rosary makes for a happy home, is this. From what some possessed people have said, and from what some of the saints have said, it seems certain that demons fear the rosary. It makes their hair stand on end, so to speak. Holy water certainly drives them out, but they come back again. The daily rosary drives them out and keeps them out. It is rather like living in an old house where there are mice everywhere. The only way to get rid of them is to bring cats. If you get a couple of cats, after a week or two there simply will not be any more mice. Mice fear the very smell of cats. And in a home where the rosary is said every day, after a time the demons realize they are impotent in front of Our Lady, and go elsewhere.

 

This must be one reason why, as they say, “the family that prays together stays together.” In that home, utterly free of evil spirits, there is an atmosphere one does not find outside. In a demon-infested city like London, where I live, such a home is an oasis of God’s grace, and people find a comfort and peace there which they enjoy greatly. We human beings are not meant to live in the company of demons, but with God and with the angels and saints in heaven.

 

So, as I see it, in this effort we are making to keep the faith and pass it on, the practice of the rosary is absolutely indispensable. Whatever else a person may do, even though they go to Mass every day, they still need to say the rosary in their home. It is the medicine our Mother has told us to take, to keep our faith strong and healthy.

 

From: https://www.pamphletstoinspire.com/

 

Sound Cloud

https://soundcloud.com/pamphlets-to-inspire/joyful-mysteries-of-the-rosaries-with-meditations-by-st-padre-pio

 

Prayer to Saint Joseph for the Month of October

https://twishort.com/D1Bnc

 

Blog Post - October 6th

https://www.pamphletstoinspire.com/blog-page

 

There's Something Happening Here

 

“For What It’s Worth” is one of the most widely known protest songs of the 1960s. Recorded by Buffalo Springfield as a single, it was eventually released in 1967 on their self-titled album. It has transcended its origin story to become one of pop’s most-covered protest songs – a sort of “We Shall Overcome” of its time, its references to police, guns and paranoia remaining continually relevant even to this day. 

Buffalo Springfield was the house band for LA’s famous Whiskey A Go Go Club during the time of the LA riots, which led Stephen Stills to pen the song.

“For What It’s Worth” was penned solely by Stills in response to the Sunset Strip curfew riots in Los Angeles in 1966. It all started in the mid-1960s when hippies and young people associated with rock and roll culture would frequently gather on the famous street in West Hollywood. The commercial merchants on Sunset Boulevard decided that the element of young people on the street every night was not conducive to commercial enterprise. When bunch of kids got together on a street corner and said we aren’t moving, the local government put in place curfew and anti-loitering laws to stop people from congregating at the behest of local businesses.

 

This tension between the free-spirited culture and local government came to a head in November and December 1966 when protesters clashed with police, particularly on the night of November 12 when a local radio station announced there would be a protest over the closing of Pandora’s Box, a popular nightclub for young people. Roughly 1,000 people showed up to protest. Three busloads of Los Angeles police showed up, who looked very much like storm troopers. 

 

According to reports, a fight broke out for reasons having nothing to do with the curfew; a car carrying a group of Marines was bumped by another vehicle. Egged on by that fight, the protesters (some of whom carried placards that read “We’re Your Children! Don’t Destroy Us”) trashed a city bus and threw bottles and rocks at storefronts. 

  

The LAPD instigated a 10 p.m. curfew for anyone under 18. 

 

 

The riot was really four different things intertwined, including the war and the absurdity of what was happening on the Strip. 

 

Despite having a reputation as being an anti-war song, as it was also written during the Vietnam War, Stills said that “For What It’s Worth” was mostly written in response to the Sunset Strip riots. 

 

“It was really four different things intertwined, including the war and the absurdity of what was happening on the Strip,” Stills explained in an archived interview, according to the Los Angeles Times. “But I knew I had to skedaddle and headed back to Topanga, where I wrote my song in about 15 minutes. For me, there was no riot. It was basically a cop dance. … Riot is a ridiculous name. It was a funeral for Pandora’s Box. But it looked like a revolution.” 

  

The beginning of the song is a study in understatement. An electric guitar plays two notes, slowly repeated, with tremolo. The drums set up a quiet pulse-like beat. An acoustic guitar enters, strumming two chords, then beginning a quiet riff that is a definition of laid-back L.A. funk. (Audio clip – 80K.) Finally Steve Stills’ voice enters, in a quiet, conversational tone. (Audio clip – 64K.) 

 

[Verse 1]
There's something happening here
But what it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man with a gun over there
A-telling me I got to beware

[Chorus]
I think it's time we stop
Children, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going down

[Verse 2]
There's battle lines being drawn
And nobody's right if everybody's wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Are gettin' so much resistance from behind

[Chorus]
It's time we stop
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going down

[Verse 3]
What a field day for the heat 
A thousand people in the street 
Singing songs and a-carryin' signs 
Mostly say, "Hooray for our side" 

[Chorus]
It's time we stopped
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going down

[Verse 4]
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life, it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
Step out of line, the man come and take you away

[Chorus]
We better stop
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going
We better stop
Hey, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going
We better stop
Now, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going
We better stop
Children, what's that sound?
Everybody look what's going down

While watching the new today, this song from my past came to mind and has not left. Once again we have riots in LA, and beginning to start in other cities. We have battle lines being drawn between Trump supporters and Trump non-supporters; Republicans and Democrats; those who want peace and those who want to take peace. When will we learn that nobody's right if everybody's wrong?

We teach our young people to "speak their mind" but we forget to teach them to consider those around them before they speak. Our "freedom of speech" does not give us the right to trespass, steal or destroy other people's property. Our "freedom of speech" does not give us the right to bully or demean any other human.  

Nearly 50 years later, and in very different times, we still haven't learned from our mistakes of the 1960s.  

 

 

 

The Angel of Intramuros

Wars are started by rulers and politicians. Ordinary working men and women do the fighting and killing. It is also ordinary working men and women that do the dying, along with the poor and innocent children. There are no two sides to a war, there is only one because all of mankind suffers. Whether you willingly participate, are forced to participate or are just an innocent bystander, you suffer. Rulers and politicians do not understand that all of society will suffer when they start a war. 

Photo credit: John Tewell

 

 

 

 

 

Manila, 1945. The city burned as the Battle of Manila raged between American forces and the Japanese Imperial Army. Streets once filled with life had become graveyards of shattered homes, bloodied rubble, and the cries of the dying. It was in this chaos that Sergeant James Calloway, a U.S. soldier, stumbled upon a scene that would haunt him forever.

Through the smoke and ruin of Intramuros, he saw her—a young Filipina girl, barely a teenager, clutching a lifeless infant wrapped in a bloodstained cloth. She was barefoot, her dress tattered, her eyes hollow with grief. Calloway rushed to her, but she did not react. She simply stared ahead, as if she had already accepted death.

 

Gently, he lifted her into his arms. She did not resist, but her lips trembled. “Nanay… Tatay… nasaan sila?” she whispered in a weak voice. ("Mother… Father… where are they?")

 

A nun rushed past them, cradling another child, her face streaked with tears. The convent had been bombed, and the orphans she cared for were either missing or dead. The girl in Calloway’s arms had been one of them.

 

As he carried her through the wreckage, stepping over bodies and smoldering ruins, Calloway felt the weight of war crushing his soul. This wasn’t victory. This wasn’t liberation. This was tragedy.

 

Reaching a makeshift medical station, he laid the girl down. A medic checked her pulse and gave a solemn nod. She was alive, but barely. As Calloway turned to leave, she gripped his hand.

 

“Will you find them?” she asked.

 

He wanted to promise her, to tell her that her family would be waiting. But he had seen the massacre at Intramuros. He knew the answer.

 

Instead, he knelt beside her and whispered, “I’ll stay with you.”

 

She smiled weakly before her eyes fluttered shut.

 

Decades later, Calloway, now an old man, still remembered that moment—the war, the girl, the broken city. He never learned her name, but in his heart, she remained the Angel of Intramuros, a symbol of the innocence lost in war, and the reminder that some wounds never heal.

 

It is the same in all wars and armed conflicts, innocent people die; while the innocent young man turned soldier losses his innocence forever. The innocent of war die only once, the soldier who loses his innocence dies every day for the rest of his life.    

Chicago (in progress updated 1-10-25)

I was born in Chicago in the old - Cook County Hospital. Chicago, on Lake Michigan in Illinois, is among the largest cities in the U.S. The City of Chicago is located on land that is and has long been a center for Native peoples. The area is the traditional homelands of the Anishinaabe, or the Council of the Three Fires: the Ojibwe, Odawa, and Potawatomi Nations. 

 

I don't remember much about Chicago; just going to my Grand Parents apartment, my Uncle Bob's house and my Uncle Charles's house. Uncle Bob had a ton of kids, I remember my Mom telling me he worked on the docks unloading ships from the lakes and that he worked on merchant ships during WWII. Uncle Bob was Mom's brother. Uncle Charles was Dad's brother, he and Dad both worked at Fisher Body Division of General Motors. Dad and Uncle Charles were mechanics working on the big machines that stamped out parts for General Motors cars. 

 

I'm not sure of where we lived when I was born, whether it was somewhere in Chicago or Oaklawn. I have a birth certificate somewhere around here, it might have where we lived on it. As soon as I find it again I'll check.  

 

Famed for its bold architecture, Chicago has a skyline punctuated by skyscrapers such as the iconic John Hancock Center, 1,451-ft. Willis Tower (formerly the Sears Tower) and the Neo-Gothic Tribune Tower. The city is also renowned for its museums, including the Art Institute of Chicago with its noted Impressionist and Post-Impressionist works.  

 

Chicago is also an international hub for finance, culture, commerce, industry, education, technology, telecommunications, and transportation. It has the largest and most diverse finance derivatives market in the world, generating 20% of all volume in commodities and financial futures alone. 

 

Chicago Walking Tour

 

Chicago Travel Guide

Welcome to Illinois

Map of Illinois 

Illinois History 

Illinois Territory 1776-1818 

Early Statehood 1818-1848 

History of Illinois

Visit Chicago

Chicago City Guide 

Things to do in Chicago 

History of Chicago

Smithsonian Chicago History 

Chicago History Magazine 

Chicago History Museum 

Three Fires Council 

Three Fires Confederacy

The Potawatomi Tribe

Potawatomi Beliefs

Potawatomi Cultural Center 

History & Culture of the Ojibwe Tribe 

Ojibwe People

Ojibwe History and Culture 

Ottawa Tribe History 

Ottawa Culture

Ottawa Heritage

Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary

Why is the FEAST of the OUR LADY OF THE ROSARY, on every October 7th? 

 

..... The story of the VICTORY OF OUR LADY OF THE ROSARY at the Battle of Lepanto, on OCTOBER 7, 1571.

 

IN TIMES OF ACUTE DANGER AND HARDSHIP, WE MUST ALWAYS FLY INTO THE ARMS OF THE MOST POWERFUL MOTHER OF GOD AND TURN TO THE RECITATION OF HER HOLY ROSARY. The Battle of Lepanto is a great lesson of confidence for us today. 

 

When Saint Pius V became Pope, Christendom faced the perils perhaps unequaled in its history of continual conflict with the violent followers of Mohammed. All the information and intelligence that Pope Pius V had been gathering indicated that the Ottoman juggernaut was about to roll across the Mediterranean and adjacent lands, spearheaded by the Turkish fleet, with Italy and Rome as one of its target. (The Ottoman Empire is also historically known in Western Europe as the Turkish Empire)

 

Only Spain and Venice had the resources to resist, and they hated each other along with deep mistrust. Yet Saint Pius — calling down divine grace as only a man of prayer could — forged an alliance with them as the core of an organized fleet of over 200 galleys. With his considerable tact and diplomatic skills, he not only kept them unified, but he convinced them to attack the enveloping menace.

 

The Archbishop of Mexico had an exact copy of the HOLY IMAGE OF THE LADY OF GUADALUPE sent to King Philip II, who in turn gave it to Andrea Doria, one of the three principal admirals of the fleet, who placed it in his cabin. When the Armada went from file to line abreast and attacked on the morning of OCTOBER 7, 1571 the blue standard of OUR LADY OF GUADALUPE was also flying from the masthead of Don Juan’s flagship. 

 

Pope Pius V, a Dominican prelate before becoming a Pope, did what Catholics have always done in times of acute danger: FLY INTO THE ARMS OF THE MOST POWERFUL MOTHER OF GOD. As a follower of Saint Dominic, HE KNEW THE MOST EFFECTIVE MEANS OF IMPLORING HER HELP WAS THROUGH THE RECITATION OF THE HOLY ROSARY. He ordered all monasteries and convents in Rome to increase their prayers for the impending battle and organized ROSARY PROCESSIONS in which he, as sick as he was, participated. OUR LADY’S PRESENCE THAT DAY WAS MORE ACUTELY FELT THROUGH THE HOLY ROSARY. On the eve of battle, the men of THE HOLY LEAGUE PREPARED THEIR SOULS BY FALLING TO THEIR KNEES ON THE DECKS OF THEIR GALLEYS AND PRAYING THE ROSARY.

 

At dawn on October 7, 1571, the Holy League rowed down the west coast of Greece and turned east into the Gulf of Patras. When the morning mist cleared, the Christians, rowing directly against the wind, saw the squadrons of the larger Ottoman fleet arrayed like a crescent from shore to shore, bearing down on them under full sail.

 

As the fleets grew closer, the Christians could hear the gongs and cymbals, drums and cries of the Turks. The men of the Holy League quietly pulled at their oars, the soldiers stood on the decks in silent prayer. PRIESTS HOLDING LARGE CRUCIFIXES MARCHED UP AND DOWN THE DECKS EXHORTING THE MEN TO BE BRAVE AND HEARING FINAL CONFESSIONS ……….. THEN THE BLESSED VIRGIN INTERVENED! 

 

The wind shifted 180 degrees. The sails of the Holy League were filled with the Divine breath, driving them into battle. As the Christian fleet sailed toward the great clash, MASS WAS CELEBRATED AND THE ROSARY RECITED DAILY ON EACH VESSEL….. THIS HEARTFELT REQUEST FOR DIVINE ASSISTANCE RESULTED IN A CRUSHING DEFEAT OF THE OTTOMANS AT LEPANTO THAT ENDED THEIR DOMINANCE AND CRUELTY IN THE MEDITERRANEAN.

 

OCTOBER 7, 1571, WAS THE VICTORY OF OUR LADY OF THE MOST HOLY ROSARY, EVEN IF THE CHRISTIAN FLEET WAS GREATLY OUTNUMBERED BY THE OTTOMAN FLEET.

 

TO CELEBRATE OUR LADY’S INTERCESSION AND VICTORY, THE CHURCH HAS DESIGNATED OCTOBER 7 AS THE FEAST OF OUR LADY OF THE MOST HOLY ROSARY.

 

First Mass in the Philippines

 

March 31 commemorates the anniversary of the first Catholic Mass in the Philippines in 1521.

Each year Filipinos commemorate the anniversary of the first Catholic Mass celebrated on the island of Limasawa in Southern Leyte.

According to Vatican News, “On Easter Sunday in 1521, Father Pedro de Valderrama celebrated the first Catholic Mass in what is now the Philippines, specifically on the island of Limasawa in Southern Leyte.

The date was March 31, and the Spanish priest was part of an expedition to the so-called ‘East Indies’ led by the Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan.”

The Mass was celebrated on an “improvised altar” and the congregation included local inhabitants.

The past few years have seen several jubilee celebrations, celebrating 500 years since the first Mass. Those celebrations were postponed during COVID in 2021, but were held successfully in 2022.

John Burger also adds in his article for Aleteia that, “Since 2013, Filipino Catholics have been observing a nine-year preparatory cycle to prepare for the great anniversary. With a particular theme assigned to each year, the Church in the Philippines has sought to deepen and reinvigorate its missionary character, with programs tailored by each of the country’s dioceses and archdioceses.”

The Legacy of Harana

 

The harana, a traditional form of courtship in the Philippines, was a captivating and romantic practice that involved men serenading women with songs beneath their windows at night. This practice was widely prevalent in the "old Philippines," a period before the widespread use of electricity and modern forms of communication.

 

The Essence of Harana

 

The harana was more than just singing love songs; it was a carefully orchestrated ritual with a set of protocols, a code of conduct, and a specific style of music. The most trusted instrument was the guitar, whose intimate sound complemented the sweetness of Spanish-influenced songs combined with the poetry and lyricism of the Tagalog language.

 

The Haranista and His Performance

 

The haranista (the man performing the serenade) often possessed musical abilities, but even if he lacked singing talent, he could enlist friends and musicians to help him. This made the harana a social event, not just a solitary endeavor. The haranista would sing songs expressing his admiration for the woman, hoping to win her heart and gain her family's approval.

 

The Response and the Farewell

 

The woman, known as the dalaga, would either accept or deny the haranista's advances. If she was interested, she would come out to the window to listen to his singing. If not, she would remain inside, signaling her lack of interest. The harana would often conclude with a farewell song, expressing the haranista's gratitude for the opportunity to serenade her, even if his affections were unrequited.

 

The Decline of Harana

 

The harana began to decline in popularity as the Philippines modernized and embraced new forms of courtship. The practice is now largely considered a relic of the past, remembered only by those who experienced it firsthand or learned about it from older generations.

 

The Legacy of Harana

 

Despite its decline, the harana continues to hold a special place in Filipino culture. It is often depicted in films, literature, and music, serving as a reminder of a time when courtship was more romantic and traditional. The harana also embodies important Filipino values such as respect, courtesy, and the importance of family approval in romantic relationships.

 

Modern Interpretations of Harana

 

While the traditional harana is no longer widely practiced, the spirit of serenading lives on in modern forms. Companies like Harana.ph offer serenading packages, allowing people to express their love for loved ones through song, albeit in a more contemporary and commercially driven way.

 

Conclusion

 

The harana is a testament to the rich and diverse cultural heritage of the Philippines. It is a reminder of a time when courtship was a more elaborate and romantic affair, and its legacy continues to inspire and fascinate Filipinos today. While the traditional practice may be a thing of the past, the spirit of the harana, with its emphasis on music, poetry, and heartfelt expressions of love, remains a cherished part of Filipino culture. 

Disclaimer: I do not own the image presented. The photo is provided for educational and informational purposes only and to enhance visual understanding of the topic. Rights solely belongs to the rightful owner.