Jim Comes Home!

Where have the days gone? They are all a blur. It's a cliche', I know, but it best describes how things have gone since Jim returned home. 

He came home on 04 September 2013, with a PICC line (peripherally inserted central catheter/ type of I.V.) and a supra-pubic catheter (a line inserted above his pubic bone that goes straight to his bladder). 

Walgreens delivered several bags of antibiotics and an I.V. pole, and after a visit from a home nurse we were on our own. I made his meals, gave him antibiotics, helped him walk with his walker to the bathroom and to the shower, showered him, dressed him and emptied his urine bag. In addition to that, I was taking my son to school, picking him up after school, cleaning the house, doing the grocery shopping and trying to spend some time at work seeing patients. I couldn't have done it all without my daughter and her boyfriend and my son. They all pitched in when they could, taking out trash, running the vacuum, helping me with clothes. Still, the work never seemed to end.

Gradually, he became more comfortable at home. Sleeping in his own bed was a treat, and being at home was a blessing. But sitting around while I buzzed around the house, made phone calls and tried to figure out bills was driving him crazy. When I took Sean to school one morning, he said he wanted to come. We all piled into the car, and it was his first 'non-official' trip in a while. Later we had to go to CVS to pick up some of his medication, and he wanted to come there too. I was afraid he'd have a hard time, but he was a champ! Before we'd left Saint John's hospital, his physical therapist advised me to make sure I corrected his gait and his posture. He has a tendency to lean to the right since it's his weaker side right now.

I know you're wondering about the patch over the eye. It's something his neurologist wanted him to do to help correct his vision. He has "double vision" and his eyesight won't line up so in order to see better and to train his eyes he wears the patch over one eye for a while and then switches sides.

Just a few days ago, he was dying to get out of the house. My clinic has an extra wheel chair, and some of the staff suggested I borrow it. I brought it home and by using it we were able to take him further outside. I walked Paris, and Kira walked Jim (in a manner of speaking). Jim often finds he is 'cold' despite the 70-80 degree weather, and we've had a cool spell in Ventura which is why he's all bundled up!

This week has been full of doctor appointments, home health/ physical therapy and occupational visits, and visits from would be renters of the house we have to move out of. Just yesterday, Jim had to go to see the urologist. Instead of suggesting surgery, or seeing if there was a blockage, the doctor prescribed a brand new medication. "Let's try this first," he said. The physician is an older Chinese man who is very conservative in his practice. I suppose it's good, but I know Jim is getting tired of carrying his friend "Bags" around. He's graduated from having me empty the bag, to doing it himself, which is another step toward autonomy and gives me a little more time to get other things done.

After the visit to the urologist, we had to hurry home because the physical therapist was due to arrive for his PT assessment. The young man had Jim do several exercises and had him sweating like crazy! Still, Jim felt good about the things he was doing and received several 'homework' exercises to do.

Today, the occupational therapist came and did an assessment as well. He taught Jim how to go up and down the stairs by himself, and how to get into the shower by himself. The visit was extremely useful and seemed to cheer Jim up a bit. After the OC therapist left, the home health nurse/case manager came in for a visit. She took his vitals and inquired about how he was doing, then left. We ate a lunch of Tofurkey slices and veggies wrapped in a burrito sized tortilla, and then went for a walk outside. I thought maybe he could make it to the mailboxes down the street, but he was doubtful. He wanted me to follow him with the wheel chair in case he got tired, so, I did . . . 

 He not only made it past the mailboxes, but continued on along a back path/park where we take our dog (Paris) to walk. It's a circular route. He was doing so well, I suggested that he try walking behind the wheelchair while gripping the handles. This worked very well for a bit, but the wheelchair kept scooching together. Ever able to solve a problem, I promptly sat in it and Jim pushed me in the wheelchair all the way around (6/10 of a mile)! He had expected to be tired, but after taking a nap earlier, he found he had the strength and energy to make it all the way. Needless to say, it was a very good and productive day! 

Although he's doing better, we have a long way to go and sometimes there will be setbacks (we know). Jim was doing great physically today, but had trouble mentally finding the words he wanted to express how he was feeling or what he was thinking. I spent a lot of time on the phone talking with his new case manager from Tricare (in Hawaii) and trying to arrange his future appointments. He'll have an MRI and MRA soon, and will see a few more doctors this week and next week. One thing's for certain, neither of us will be bored in the next few days. With the pending move to an apartment at the end of the month, his physical therapy/OC therapy and his doctor appointments, it will be October before we know it!

Changes: They Are a-Comin' . . .

Nothing is permanent. Nothing remains the same. It's a hard lesson to learn, and one we fight against all of the time despite the obvious daily proof that it's a certainty.

August 28th was a particularly hard day. It was 4 weeks since Jim's bike crash and the day Kira moved out of her house and into her first solo apartment with her boyfriend, Owais. It's also the day Jim found out he couldn't come home yet and had to spend at least another week in the hospital due to both a blood infection (septicemia) and a urinary tract infection. 

The worst of the day was when our beloved furry family member Maddie died. Maddie was the oddest creature. She loved to go on walks with the dog, and would cry at the door whenever we left her inside so we could take the dog (Paris) for a long walk. Maddie was the cutest kitty ever, and we were heartbroken to come home and find out that she'd been attacked by a dog and killed. The neighbor across the street tried to save her, and even ran her to the vet, but she died enroute. (RIP Maddie. May your next life be bright and happy! We will miss you!)

All of these changes served as a catalyst for me to make some very big decisions. Finances, in this world, tend to be the key for survival and because of that key I had to change the door and the lock on the door of our lives.

I traded in both of our old cars for new 2013 models. While that sounds like more money spent, it was with a purpose. Now both cars have bumper to bumper warranty, free roadside assistance and gap insurance. 

Our house is a 4 bedroom rental home that now has only 3 people living in it, and so I gave notice the 30th of this month that we would be moving out of it and selected a 2 bedroom apartment not far from here that is $500.00 less to pay per month. Not only that, but we'll have less to pay in terms of insurance, garbage pick up fees, less electricity use and water use, and there will be much less housework (which I really like).

It's a step down in the 'standard' of living one might say, but prudent in terms of financial responsibility. I'll miss my garden, and my quiet back patio (with the exception of the buzz of the Hwy 126), but there's a small balcony at the apartment where I can still place my patio furniture and hang out and write.

Often, as humans, we tend to collect things. Old furniture, pictures, dishware and the like. Those of us who have garages recognize how much we put in boxes and set aside. Half the time we aren't aware of all of the THINGS we've accumulated. The month of September there are two mottos: 1. Get rid of STUFF and 2. Get the jobs done.

This entry will be ongoing and you'll see some pictures below once I get things together, but that's the status today. If you'd like to keep up with what's going on, please subscribe to my blog and you'll get the updates. If not, believe me I understand. The world is too busy, and it's getting more frantic with buzz every day. Just know that I love you all. Each and every one. From those who are my closest family to those far away. From my dear friends, to those who've mentored me, those I've worked with and those who keep in touch professionally. Thank you all for your prayers, kind thoughts and meditations in this time of rapid change for our family. More soon!

Hospital Update on Jim . . .

I apologize for not sending everyone a personal update, but I know you all understand. It's a challenge to try to fill my shoes and my husband's at this point in time, and between household duties, wifely and motherly duties and a number of other jobs, I'm running ragged at this point. If I haven't returned a message, submitted an edit or a paper, or if I owe you a review, please accept my apologies. I'll be running late once again, but will get the work to you as soon as I can. If you need something right away, please don't feel shy about calling. Reminders are helpful.

Jim was projected to return home on the 28th of this month. After this weekend I'm not sure when he'll be home. Many of you were aware that after Jim's admission to Saint John's Hospital for rehab, he started having bladder/urinary problems. The medical personnel ended up putting a supra-pubic catheter in him (a tube just above his pubic bone and into his bladder) so that he could urinate. His urologist was trying to help him build up pressure in the bladder in order to urinate normally, but he's been unable to. We are thinking he may need surgery on his prostate before he goes home so he can go to the bathroom without a catheter, but we'll see.

Last night his body core temperature dropped and then spiked to 103 while we were visiting. His heart rate was 120+. He was shaking very badly and complaining of being cold. They gave him Tylenol and started an I.V., drew blood cultures and started him on a course of antibiotics (Rocephin). At one point he started speaking words/sentences that made no sense. They were strings of random words, and he would look at the nurse and I like we were supposed to know what he was saying. It was the first time I'd ever seen/heard him do that. Eventually, the garbled language subsided, and he was fairly coherent after that. I stayed with him till close to midnight to make sure he was okay. 

Jim has done well during his physical therapy up until now, and perhaps once they get the infection under control he'll be on the mend again, but I suspect he won't be leaving on the 28th and that he won't have physical therapy for a while. No physician has been in to see him this weekend, but they will see him on Monday. The kids went in to see him this morning/early afternoon and said he was very tired and still running a low-grade fever. We still don't know what kind of infection he has.

Meanwhile, we are running some food to him tonight (hospital food is repetitive for a vegetarian there) and taking clean clothes in/bringing dirty clothes back. We really don't need anything except your continued friendship and support.

If you've got prayers and good thoughts to send his way, please send them. I would let him rest today, and maybe call him tomorrow or the next day instead, if you'd like to talk with him. His cell number is 301-801-6661, and he can receive email (jimferg29@mac.com), texts and voice messages. He likes hearing from people when he can.

Take care everyone and be well.

Pictures from when Owais came to California to stay: Day One . . .

 Owais and Kira when they brought Paris to visit Jim

Reality Crash . . .

It's been awhile since I've posted on this blog, and I've neglected the other blogs as well. I blame it on a busy life, and my inability to avoid committing to too many projects at one time.

Today's blog is the ending of one life and the beginning of another. My husband, Jim, loves cycling with a passion. Every "Tour de France" or "Tour de 'something'" has him avidly watching the screen after a TIVO, and getting on his bike with gusto afterward. He tries to ride almost every day, and sometimes he grosses 50 to 80 (or even 100) miles on a Saturday, and then goes after it all over again on Sunday.

July 28th. I'm at home writing when the call comes in. It's my daughter, who wants to know if I've heard about her Dad. "No," I said, and punched a few more letters in while she relayed a quick string of words I wasn't sure I comprehended. Something about "Dad," and "crashing the bike," and "being flown to the hospital." I hung up the phone and realized I didn't have the slightest idea what she'd just told me.

3:30 PM: My husband's cycling friend Kenny calls to tell me that my husband was medivac'd to Ventura County Hospital. I'd already pulled on clothes, and prepared to leave the house with my son. "He's okay," was what I'd been told. That's all I clung to. After going to the wrong hospital, and finally finding the right one, I rounded the curtain in the ER and he looked anything but "okay." His face was scrapped horribly, and his head was encased in a full neck brace.

Every five minutes or so, he'd look at me very confused and ask the same question. "Where am I? What happened?" I'd patiently explain, over and over again, that he'd crashed on his bike, that he had a major concussion and had trauma to his head, and that he was in the Ventura County Medical Center (VCMC). His eyes remained confused. He'd tell me he was sorry. Sorry he crashed his bike. Sorry he couldn't remember. I felt so bad for my son, Sean. Fifteen years old, going on 16 in a few months, and watching his dad suffer and go through such confusion.

July 29th:  Jim was moved to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) a few hours later. They did tons of tests on him, including an MRI of his brain, some vascular studies and an echocardiogram. The neurosurgeon showed me his MRI, and where the left vertebral artery seemed to have suffered trauma, as well as the small blood clots in the left parietal side of his brain and the frontal portion. Six clots, all small, but in different areas. The doctor said he thought perhaps the trauma to the artery caused a 'shower' of clots in the brain. Regardless, the effect was like that of having mini-strokes.

Jim's speech was garbled and his words were slurred. His right side of the body was weaker and it was more difficult for him to grasp objects with his right hand. I thanked the maker of Bell Helmets that day. If it weren't for their design, and superior fit on his head, he wouldn't be with me today. That much I know. 

 August 1st (Jim's B-Day):  We sneak in a helium balloon only to find out he's being moved to 2 West, a regular medical floor. That is cause for a little celebration. He's graduated to a regular floor. Kira makes him Banana bread for his birthday cake, and we give him our gift: Football tickets to the San Diego Chargers/ Dallas Cowboys game. A REAL game. I found myself wondering if he'd be able to make it.

August 4th (Sunday): After dinner and a shower, Jim and I went outside to look at the sunset. He recognized "Two Trees," but wasn't sure why he recognized them. While we sat there, the kids arrived with Paris, and as soon as Paris sniffed and saw who was ahead of her, she ran like mad to try to get to her human! I think there was tongue in that kiss! :)

August 6th (Tuesday): Jim has received phone-calls from Andy, Mike, Kenny and many others. The phonecalls really help him. They jog his memory, and get his brain cells firing. The bruise on his arm has turned the lovely shades of yellow and purple.

On December 13th, 2012 I turned 50 . . .

I haven't written on this blog for a while now. So many things to do, assignments to complete, kids and husband to take care of and yeah, my day job with the military. But on December 16th, at 4AM in the morning, I'm sleepless in Ventura and trying to stay sane so I've found my blog here to write a few notes.

My daughter Kira turned 19 on the 21st of August. I can't believe this is the last of her teenage years. She's done so much since high school graduation. Kira has thrown herself into Asian Studies, and taken on a mostly full time job at "Massage Place." She's feeling happy and self secure in her trade knowledge combined with a knowledge of what more she wants to do in the future. Acupuncture maybe, and other oriental treatments. There's a school in Santa Cruz that she wants to go to, and so she's preparing to move at the end of summer 2013.

To backtrack a little, my husband Jim turned 50 on August 1st, and his was a lovely birthday. I promised him that for a year I'd be a Dallas fan (yeah, right) and I took him to a preseason game between Dallas and the Chargers in San Diego. I'd never seen the man so happy!

Sean turned 15 on the 12th of November (same day as Joey, my nephew). He wanted a quiet celebration with just family and so we went for greek food at The Greek by the Harbor. His girlfriend Hanna came with us and it was a relaxing and wonderful time.

Not long after that, our whole family made the trip to the East Coast to see friends and family. I returned exhausted. Flying across the country is tiring and it was tough on Air Tran (The World's Most Uncomfortable Flight).

I was looking forward to turning 50. Sure, it's just another day. A meaningless milestone we set for ourselves, but it felt good nonetheless. And my family was all around me which made it much better.

Modern Movie Disappointments

I've had two movie disappointments lately, and I'm mystified as to why the films ended up being so unexpectedly bad.

Let me just say, I looked forward to each film. I rarely shell out $10.00 (or more) for a flick unless I think it's going to be good. Two times in two months I've misjudged a movie horribly. Part of it was because of the way the previews were done (excellent) and part of it was because I love the actors and the producers. It takes more than well-known actors to make a great film and I feel sorry for all of the actors in these two films because they did nothing but hurt their professional reputation.

Dark Shadows was a film I wanted to see the moment I viewed the previews. I simply adore Tim Burton movies and I love to watch Johnny Depp. The cast for this humor horror was excellent and the quality of the film was superb. Where the film falls short is in the final editing and in some of the script writing. This movie had scenes that dragged on and (I hate to say it) made me yawn. The humor could have been punched up some and there were unnecessary scenes that added nothing to the story and should have been cut.

I saw Snow White and the Huntsman with my family today, and most of us (exception of my husband who went with us just so he could be with me...sickeningly sweet) were excited to see the film. The pros of the film were the wonderful cast of actors, the quality of the film and the excellent CG/special effects. The cons were similar to that of Dark Shadows. Poor script writing, poor film editing and the insertion of scenes that didn't do anything to move the story along. There were endless snippets of Snow White stumbling though the dark forest breathing heavily and squeaking from fear, and a scene where a village of women who had scars on their faces could have been cut from the story all together.

When I talked with my family after the movie was over, everyone thought the film was "so-so." It wasn't fantastic. We agreed that there was no emotional attachment to any of the characters. No deep meaning to the story. It was such a shame, because I'd hoped for a quality movie to escape into. Instead I got something that was close to real life. Fun and fantasy combined with boredom and the desire to fast forward on a remote (Precious Buddha, I really wish I'd had a remote...)

Even though these films were an ultimate disappointment, they did awaken something in me that made me look at myself. I realized that, as a writer, I need to be sure not to make the same mistakes that were made in these stories. Quick action scenes and 'meaning' to each scene are important, and if I even think I'm going to write humor then it needs to be funny or else I need to cut it. 

Editing is huge part of developing prose for publication, whether it's a script, short story, poetry or a novel. I had a hard time believing that the producers, writers and editors of these creations actually shared their movies with an sample of the general population before they did the final wrap. Gathering together a real audience to view the films before saying the work if finished is essential. The audience should be a group of randomly selected people (50 or more) who fill out a survey at the end of the movie and who provide their honest feedback in a comment section. I can't believe anyone did this with either of these movies because the average Jane/Joe Doe opinion would have helped these two films to be a hit.

In the end, viewing the films weren't a total loss. I developed  some insight by watching something that could have been popular if the scriptwriting and editing had been better. And I spent time with my family, which is always good. Bottom line is to never be so arrogant (despite your money and popularity) that you don't invite and/or listen to a good critique of your work. As for me, I'll be making sure I've got plenty of eyes on my manuscript. The last thing I want is for my reader to be disappointed.

Semper Fortis!

~Q

Avengers: The Return of Dignity to America...

Today the movie the Avengers grossed over 200 million, and I read it took approximately 250 million dollars to make. That means that this weekend, the film almost paid for itself. Each of the main characters (except for Black Widow, Phil and Nick Fury) had their own movie before the culmination of this Marvel product, but bringing them together under the threat of world domination from alien beings (and an evil god) brought something back to the people of the United States. What this brilliantly written script, filled with humor, self sacrifice, humility and leadership, did for American people is bring back a dose of American pride.


Over my 30 years in the U.S. Military and Public Health Commissioned Service I've seen support for service uniforms wax and wane. After over a decade of war in both Iraq and Afghanistan, fighting against terrorism and extremist ideas instead of some other country, I'd become disheartened at our political ethics. In my career, I've seen more money wasted than what actually seemed to do good. I've seen totem pole scrambles as military and government leadership fought for the top. And all of this time, I'd seldom met a leader that I wanted to emulate.


The first leader I ever met, who I really admired, was my Company Commander, Petty Officer First Class Daniloff. In 1982, the woman exuded strength, and had the Wonder Woman task of whipping 80 wanna-be women into something the Navy could use for service. Our CC was someone who immediately inspired me. She made me want to be better than I was. She helped me to be proud of being an American and I learned to love my uniform and love my country like I never had before.


The second leader I ever met was the same rank as me. She'd gone through Aircrew School in Pensacola, just like me, and was one of the few females to make it through the training. When fellow sailors sat on their ass waiting for each other to park an airplane on the flight line, this woman was one of the first people to pipe up and say she'd take care of the work. I learned to follow suit, and I will always thank Karen Graham for teaching me the value of a hard work ethic.


You might think that during my five years of active duty military enlisted service, I had tons of role models, mentors or people that I admired. But the truth was, I didn't. I had to learn to rely mostly on myself. I learned my own strengths, and I stumbled over my weaknesses. My mental knees were skinned and scarred from how many times I tripped up, but I always found my footing and I was honorably discharged from the Navy and entered Nursing School at Old Dominion University the Fall of 1988.


Nursing school was a huge challenge. It was the hardest I ever worked up until that point. But during that time I met three amazing leaders who changed my life. The first was a nursing instructor, Professor Linda Lilley. The woman was an amazon when it came to medical-surgical nursing. I remember arriving to the nursing floor at the hospital at 5:30AM and reading my patient charts so I could be prepared rather than suffer her wrath. Professor Lilley rewarded hard work, and she eschewed those who were lazy, and it wasn't a passing grade I sought from her as much as it was the reward that I'd done my best in her eyes. She was a professor who worked harder than any of her students combined, and she took her job seriously. Our care for the patients was a reflection of how she trained us, and she would never have wanted a patient to suffer because she'd failed to teach us to do our best.


My most life-altering leader during this time-period was in training under Sensei Hiroyuki Hamada. He was head of the martial arts program at Old Dominion University, and it was through him that I learned that I could do whatever I set my mind to. I learned my body and mind were stronger than I imagined. Respect for others as well as respect for the self were philosophies to be cultivated. And I learned 'Beginner's Mind,' and the priceless art of seeing everything new each moment, learning to understand the spectacular existence of the here and now. Through him, I saw the beauty of life's struggle, where once I used to see tragedy and sorrow, and I learned that we are strongest when we open ourselves up to our vulnerabilities, look deep inside and work to overcome them.


My dearest friend Alice McCleary (McCleary Martial Arts in Dallas Georgia), I first met at a Chuck Norris Martial Arts studio in Norfolk Virginia. I'd started training there, as well as at ODU, and took lessons from a teacher named Ed Saenz. Right before one of my classes this crazy woman sat down on the mat beside me and started talking to me like she'd known me forever. Little did I know that she'd made her life training martial arts since the age of fourteen, and was taking on the style of Chun Kuk Do just for fun. Alice taught me about friendship and love. True friendship and love. Not the kind you have just because it's convenient or popular. She was honest, forthright and lived by her values and to this day she is still that way. I'm indebted to her for always.


Most people aren't as lucky as me, to have found such strong and influential leaders in their lives. Since 1992, after I graduated from ODU, my family (husband Jim, daughter Kira and son Sean), and my brother Rob and my Dad, have each taught me something special. My mother died in 1997, and it wasn't until then that I realized how much she'd taught me about fierce love along the way. I've also met several spiritual teachers, Monks and Ani's, Khenchen, Holiness Penor Rinpoche, Jetsunma Ahkon Llhamo and my dearest Guru Holiness Karma Kuchen. I'm forever grateful for their guidance.


However, there were times in my life when I both witnessed and experienced great despair. I went to Afghanistan in 2010 on a military deployment that I thought wouldn't be so bad. And it wouldn't been half so difficult if it weren't for my military leadership and the people I saw dead or dying each day. It was there that I saw the wasting of American dollars in concert with the military caskets draped with flags and loaded on C-17's bound for the U.S.. I watched the remains of heroes headed toward loved ones who would never see them alive again. The abuses of government authority and poor military planning resulted in an environment of disharmony, poor morale and a failure to cultivate the principles of respect and military conduct essential to win a war. The compelling desire for leadership to climb the corporate ladder in the name of power and fame and the next silver star, led to thousands of Soldiers, Sailors, Marines and Airmen, who were separated from their country by oceans and poor communication, to flail in the stomach acid of a land that housed a terrorist organization determined to vomit them out.


Back in the U.S., the media stopped covering important stories of the war. The struggle became unpopular until the day on May 2nd, 2011, that Osama Bin Laden was killed by our U.S. forces during a raid on his personal hideaway. Even then, our national celebrations lasted a week or so, and then our fighting men and women were forgotten once more. Oh, sure, the care packages kept on arriving, and now and then a mass car bombing made the news on CNN, but the pride of America still floundered in a maelstrom of global upheaval and it still struggles to remain afloat today.


But... can something so simple as a film dedicated to American ideals bring back pride? I may sound crazy to say, "I think so." The artistry of the Avengers movie demonstrated that, both on screen and off, tremendous cooperation can produce amazing results. And for me, as I watched Captain America become the group's leader because of his strategic and military skills and his quick decision making, even though I knew it was a movie, I started to feel pride in my country once more. I thought of the years I'd served fueling airplanes, doing patrols, nursing the sick, delivering babies, helping troops with their healthcare and sacrificing time away from my family so our military service-members could get home to theirs...and I realized how much I love the United States of America.


Maybe it's silly to think that a 2 hour and 22 minute film can bring back a shred of American dignity. Perhaps, like Captain America, I'm naive and altruistic. But who's to say that's a bad thing? If I can keep this feeling just a big longer...if I can hold on to the ideals of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, then maybe, just maybe, others can too.


When I wake up in the morning, is it too much to hope that the thousands who made the pilgrimage to the movie theaters and who watched the Avengers on screen, and the millions more who will see it in the future, will take it's message to heart? Group cooperation in the face of adversity, belief in fighting for freedom and knocking down those who want dominion over others, protecting the weak and recognizing our differences while loving and accepting each other in spite of them...maybe it IS too much to hope for.


But hope I will.


Tomorrow I vow I will be a conduit of the ideas behind Captain America. I'll use my shield to serve and protect. I'll use the training and the gifts that all of my leaders selflessly gave me, and hell or high water, political vampires or bullies, terrorists or aliens... I will work with others to make the world a much better place. After all, given the lives who've fought for our freedom, who've bled and died for my freedom and the future of my children, it's a pretty small thing to ask. Not only that, but I realize that I really want to.


I practice a Buddhist way of life, and though I don't believe in a white man sitting on a cloud watching over me, I do believe in a higher power. That power is indescribable, and comes from a place that is beyond my human ability to completely conceptualize. And I don't feel hypocritical when I look at the flag of the United States billowing in the wind, when I hear the Star Spangled Banner, or hear Lee Greenwood belt out, "I'm proud to be an American..." and the tears stream down my cheeks like the Mississippi river.


I don't feel a shred of conflict or a need to conform and be 'politically correct' when I say with all my heart: "God bless the U.S.A."