Hi, I'm Rita

Started my new contract position today.

The projects seem interesting, it's exciting to learn a new industry.

But the minute I walk out the door in the morning, I have to put on my personality face like I'm perfectly comfortable meeting new people, LOTS of new people, not knowing what to expect and appearing confident.

YUCK.  I hate that stuff. 

I love already knowing the personalities of the people I work with.  I don't have a problem with learning new processes and asking questions when I don't know the answers, but not knowing people's personalities, who will be my friend and who might be looking to stab me in the back makes me nervous.  I have stayed for years with companies where I was miserable only because I stupidly have the "devil you know" attitude.

Maybe I was just in banking too long.  I'd estimate it was close to 50% that would prefer to set you up to look bad, so I'm more hesitant than what I should be.

Four years as a contractor with a retailer where I found nearly everyone was just a great deal of fun to work with and I didn't have to continually look over my shoulder for that person aiming at my head made it very hard to leave.

First assessment is that this new company is ready for some major changes and have assigned an inside resource with alot of project experience to help me along.  That's all good.

It's just that poor Bob has to put up with me being wired a little too tightly for the next few months.

The good side is that I can finally tell some of the quirky stories of past assignments (names will be withheld to protect the stupid).  I swear the TV show The Office could never write some of oddities of some of my past associates.  It made every day interesting, that's for sure.

I'm So Confused

The last few days I have been getting visits from all over the world simply because they have apparently been googling this....

I just be missing some worldwide chicken broth festival. I need to make my real version of the broth so these dozen or so people throughout the world would know what real chicken broth tastes like.

What's up with that?

Raymond

Raymond - Brett Eldredge - Brett Eldredge Videos

Tolerance from my back yard

I remember as a kid singing a kid's song about Daniel Boone.  I cannot tell you where I first learned the song, but I guarantee you it was not from my own house.

The silly little song contained a derogatory racist remark about why Daniel Boone ran up a tree when he saw a big bear.

I distinctly remember my mom giving me hell for saying that "word" and told me how ashamed her very good black friend Gladys would be to know that I ever uttered that "n" word.

My mother's words burned into my psyche and I forever on believed that word was one of the worst words you could ever utter.  Nothing makes me cringe more that hearing that word uttered and I don't care what color you are when you say it.  I find it as offensive when the black rappers say it as much as I do when I hear a white racist say it.

Occasionally, unbelievably I will overhear a conversation about the KKK and those people are not condemning the group.   Although I keep calm, I cannot help but explain to them that I was raised Catholic and the KKK hated me and my family as much as they hated people of color.  Most never realize how that hate-filled group not only hated (and still do) blacks, but also Catholics.  Suddenly they find themselves staring into the eyes of someone the KKK hates and the discussion quickly ends.

I remember my mom telling stories of how her southern Indiana town sometimes had burning crosses in their yards because they were Catholic.

I try to stay away from posting blogs about politics, but I see the "new word" vitriol thrown about from the right and left.  They both do it and they are both wrong.

Anyone who carries a sign putting a Hitler mustache on Obama, on George Bush or WI Governor Walker and of course the "evil" Dick Cheney (sarcasm) should be required to spend one day hearing a story of a Jew who had to spend one year in an concentration camp.  Yeah, they have a right to their free speech, but they really need to understand how that free speech was bought, paid and bled for them to be able to carry such disgusting signs.  And maybe they would understand how making those comparisons diminish the true evilness of Adolph Hitler and his attempt to annihilate an entire group of people.

When I was a kid, I didn't have much of a political lean, as I grew older, I slowly grew into a Conservative.  

That doesn't mean I don't love a good discussion with someone that believes differently that I do.  I find those kinds of conversations as interesting as I do with my Hindu, Jain, Jewish, Muslim and even my athiest friends.  I know they will not change my Christian view and I know I will not change their religion or lack thereof, but I find it fascinating the differences and the similarites. 

That being said, I have yet to understand those people I disagree with that turn our discussions into a personal attack.  Believe me, I am not stupid and I cannot help but be offended when people call me filthy names because I believe differently than they do. 

I don't believe that diehard liberals are stupid, I just believe they don't see the world as I see it. 

It becomes apparent early on when I can have an intelligent discussion with someone that has a different opinion than I do and the one that just wants to make it personal.

A year or so ago I used to read and comment on a very liberal (although she thought she was a moderate) blogger.  When she referred to me as a Teabagger, I tried my best to explain to this woman why that was such an offensive term.  It didn't work.  When I backed her into a corner with her own words, she still didn't understand  my position.  It was then I realized I could not have an intelligent discussion with her about anything.

A day after comments back and forth, she posted an extremely nasty blog about all Tea "baggers".  I gave up.  Her hatred spewed out in her blog, which used to be interpersed with some conservative dialogue, but her nasty attacks now leaves her blog comments only filled with her blogging friends who believe only as she does.  It was a shame, she's an intelligent person but ultimately her hatred of anyone who believed differently overtook what used to be a fairly reasonable liberal view.

The same thing happened with a very good friend of mine after she (a few years ago) believed everything Michael Moore said when he directed the movie about 9/11 wherein Bush and Cheney supposedly knew, aided and abetted the attack.  I finally directed the conversation away from her ranting and raving by reminding her that we had met to help a friend who was grieving her sister's unexpected death, not to discuss politics.

Last year our 10 year friendship ended after she was ranting at the party about how unfair it was that some local big celebrity was sending his kids to a private school and this local celebrity thought it was awful that they were paying property tax to the public school and his kid couldn't participate in the public school's sports program, since he didn't attend the public school.  I asked her why that was any different than how I was paying property tax when our kids were long out of public school.  This local celebrity could afford to pay for his entire town and fund any sports facility in the state if he wanted his kids to get the best sports training.

She went on and on and then I made the worst mistake ever.  I answered her question when she asked me if I thought the big local celebrity loved this country.  He is known for being very political and I saw him at Farm Aid in October 2001 when a fan was waving the American flag past the stage.  The other celebrities would take the flag for awhile as they sang, the local celebrity waved his hand in dismissal when the fan tried to hand him the flag.   One month after 9/11 and he refused to touch the American flag.  So I answered her honestly.  I didn't call him Hitler, I didn't scream or yell.  I simply said, "No, I don't believe he loves this country."  That impression in October 2001 forever changed my mind about him, right or wrong, that was the impression he left me with.

One sentence in a rant that had already gone on for 20 minutes.

All hell broke loose.  I felt sorry for our hosts.  I was not about to say I didn't believe what I had just said, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway.  My former friend began to scream at me.  SCREAM.  At a private party of 7.  I did try to calm her down by saying that we would never agree, but that I would always love her anyway.

No change.  The yelling (not by me, I just shut up) when on and on.  The other ladies actually started physically moving her away from me as she screamed, moving closer and closer to my face.  After 10 more minutes I told Bob it was time to leave.  I hated the whole exchange for our hosts.  I went upstairs, put my coat on and the hostess came up to convince me to come back and join the "party".  I hated seeing her in pain, so I went back downstairs hoping my former friend had calmed down.

That didn't happen.  I turned my back, watching Bob and our friend playing ping pong.  In the background was my former friend still ranting and raving how awful I was and how stupid I was to believe what I believed.  The funny thing was that all of the other people in the room had my political belief. Maybe not my opinion of the celebrity, but the rest of the group were conservatives.

I watched the ping pong game for another 10 minutes and when I realize that was not stopping the one-person rant behind me, I made it very clear to Bob that it was time to leave.  I gave the other 4 people hugs goodbye.  Bob hugged the ranting woman who then told him that "some people should just keep their opinion to themselves."  She didn't understand when Bob replied calmly, "That's right Amy, some people SHOULD keep their opinions to themselves."  Her right to speak her mind meant that I was not allowed to speak mine because it didn't agree with hers.  I was just supposed to shut up and sit down.  You see her freedom of speech was so much greater than mine.

The ranting didn't stop after I left and in fact continued all the way home for one couple who had picked Amy up for the party.  After about 15 minutes in the car, our mutual friend finally said, "Amy I will never be as passionate as you are about politics and no amount of you screaming it at me will change my mind."

I was so upset for our hosts because they had loved our get togethers and the host is my oldest friend.  I sent him an email the next day saying I was sorry I ruined their party by saying one sentence that apparently started the complete chaos.    My friend who drove Amy home called me the next day to see if I was okay.  I was never going to bring up the incident (but I would never subject myself to that environment again) but I was so relieved that she understood how hurtful that incident was to me and was glad she stood up for me on her way home.  It was then I cried.  I told her I would always love Amy but that was the second time I had taken her abuse and I could never subject myself to it again.

As much as I would like to let personal verbal assaults about my deeply held beliefs not affect me, I am just not that strong.  When I try to reason with that person and I get only more insults or claims of not understanding why being called filthy names is insulting, I find it necessary to keep those type of people out of my life.  There are too many other dramatic things that are harder to deal with

The only thing that made it better for me was that my good friend of 25 years ( who is like a sister to me) stuck up for me and called me the next day to make sure I was okay.   I really wasn't, knowing how long we had been holding these parties and that all that was gone. 

You might remember the a few couple post back where I said that life doesn't make me cry very often, well this was one incident that it did.

I miss Amy, but I won't subject myself to that type of verbal abuse from a stranger nor will I subject myself to that kind of abuse from someone I love.

I cried all the way home from the party.  I only stopped when my long-term friend called me to say that she thought it was unfair and that she was worried about me.  SHE apologized for her/our friend's attack.   I want to thank her for being a true friend.  A forever friend. 

Tolerance needs to go both ways, but sadly sometimes that just doesn't happen.

What Columbia University is teaching our children.

At 28 years old, he's seen more than most of us would ever imagine in our worst nightmares.

In November 2008, Army Staff Sgt. Anthony Maschek was involved in an horrific battle in northern Iraq.  He was shot 11 times in the battle, earning him the Purple Heart, one medal every soldier would rather avoid being awarded.  He broke both legs and was wounded in the abdomen, arms and chest.

He spent two years at Walter Reed Medical Hospital recovering from his wounds.

Last August he enrolled at Columbia University.

There's a war going on at Columbia, a war on the ROTC and our military.  The school first claimed they did not want the ROTC on their premises because of the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy of the military.  Since that policy has changed, it has not changed the disgust that Columbia instills in their students against brave men and women that serve this country.

Columbia has been holding several sessions about allowing the ROTC on campus.  Although there are a few professors willing to speak up in support of our military, Sociology Professor Emeritus Herbert Gans told the NY Post the following, "Universities should not be involved in military activities," Columbia should come out against spending $300 billion a year on unnecessary wars."

Even more egregious is the reaction that they students now display toward our soldiers.

Maschek was invited to address one of the sessions to discuss his military service.   He said, "It doesn't matter how you feel about the war. It doesn't matter how you feel about fighting. There are bad men out there plotting to kill you."

The reaction of the students?  They began to heckle this man who took 11 bullets for his country.  They began to scream, "Racist" at a hero that fought for their rights to say those words.  They booed him.

All I can tell you is that if I was paying for my kid to attend this school or any like it, I would haul their asses out of that school so fast they wouldn't know what hit them.  And if it was my kid holding up signs like the one below, they would get their next six months education volunteering at some VA hospitals and their assignments would be to document every single war story that those heroes suffered and fought for.

It's apparent that we, as a generation, have failed to instill in a lot of our children how much blood has been shed for their freedom to be able to insult a hero. 

You have to add a lot of twists and stuff.

Remember which movie this quote was from?




The line was delivered by a young boy that actually explained the whole concept of the big suspenseful surprise that came at the end of the movie. It was largely overlooked because most people remember and quote the line he uttered a minute later.  You can guess the movie.

Which brings me to this week.

Late on Monday afternoon I was initiated into the wonderful world of contract work.  After nearly four years working independently for the same client, I was told to pack up my things.

I'll have to tell you I was in complete shock, as was the rest of my co-workers, my friends that I have grown to love.  My phone was ringing off the hook (ok, cell phones don't have hooks, but you get my drift) by all my friends asking what happened.  I had no answer for them as I wasn't really given one.

My major project went live last February, we were still working on fixing the minor bugs and I was beginning a new project.  Then "poof" in the night, it was all over.  I heard the next couple of days was not very pleasant around the office.  Not to sound arrogant, but I pretty much was the life of the party.  Of course the party consisted of people walking past my cube hurling an insult my way and me giving as good as I got.  I really loved the people and the culture.

Since I was self-employed, that meant no unemployment either, not that that could have touched my salary, but at least I wouldn't have felt totally useless.

Still in shock Monday night, I was reviewing my contacts at linkedin.com.  For those unaware, it's a job networking site that I have been on for about 5 years now.  With about 150 contacts, I could see plenty of opportunity to begin working on first thing Tuesday morning.  The last thing I did before going to bed was to update my status.  I simply wrote "looking for opportunities" and called it a night (and a very lousy day).

When I cranked up my laptop Tuesday morning, I had an email from a friend I hadn't seen in a couple years who now owns her own small consulting firm.   Wanted me to contact her right away.  I called and left a voicemail AND sent a responding email.  By 10 am, she emailed me she had a busy day, but wanted to call me at 1:30.  Talked with her about a position she had with a client that needed my skill set.  We set up a meeting for Wednesday.  I spent Tuesday preparing a resume and Tuesday evening running out and buying a couple of interview suits and shoes (that was the worst part).

She called me Thursday, told me her client wanted to meet me on Friday.  About 4 pm yesterday, my new boss called me to say the client thought I was perfect and I could start my new job a week from Monday.  They are giving a rough estimate of 7 months to a year work, but it's a rapidly growing start up company and odds are (unless I screw something up) it'll last longer.

I was so extremely relieved and shocked I could find another contract position before even one week went by.

Bad News,  Good News and then.......

Bob's cell phone woke us early this morning.  His mother only said, "I need help." and hung up.  We threw on some clothes, brushed our teeth and were heading out when Bob was able to get ahold of her again.  We told her to call 911 as his dad was yelling in pain and struggling to breathe.

We flew down the highway and arrived at their house about 6 minutes later and there was no ambulance in site.  His dad didn't want her to call, we all agreed that from now on, we will call 911 regardless of what he says.

He was standing up leaning against a recliner, loudly complaining about the pain and not being able to breathe.  Bob loaded him in our car, I took the backseat and held his hand.  I could tell he was more in panic than in pain.  Thankfully they live only about a mile from a fire station. 

The guys at the station calmed him down right away, got an IV, oxygen mask and on a stretcher.  I rode in the front of the ambulance thinking I could keep him calm, but he had already settled down alot knowing he was getting help.

Come to find out, a few days ago his doc had prescribed medication to help drain the fluid that was swelling the lower half of his body, but they hadn't filled the prescription.  They are very proudful people, sometime to their own detriment. 

They have now admitted him with congestive heart failure and gave him some medication that is definitely removing the deadly fluids from his body.  He'll turn 90 in May and smoked up until about 10 years ago.

We'll be heading back up to the hospital soon and one of us will likely stay with him through the night.  He's a wonderfully old stubborn man that won't listen to many people, but he does what Bobby tells him to do and I gave him a calmer lecture in the emergency room (I save my very stern lectures for my knucklehead brother) and told him that he is not to argue with his wife anymore about calling 911.  He agreed with me, he's been my buddy ever since I began calling him "Burly" even though he's a slight built old guy.

This is a picture of him with my grandson nearly nine years ago on Father's Day.  God I love the guy.  (Actually I love all three of these guys in the pic.)  Say a prayer.  Gotta run.  And by the way, if anyone happens to talk with M. Night Shyamalan, you can tell him to lay off my family for awhile, everyone is a little tired of all the twists and stuff.

This is a good kind of cry.

Found this from a friend on facebook. I don't know if it's really true or not, but it's a good feeling no matter what.

The Post Didn't Start Out That Way

Yesterday's post was supposed to be lighthearted as I was watching some chick on TV manipulating some stupid male by using her tears and the next thing you know I have another "downer" posting.

On a lighter note, my idiot brother has another dumba$$ idea.

I'll Be Seeing You

Photo courtesy of Brian Bruner.


I'll admit it. I cry alot. But....

It's not what you think.

I cry at movies, at posts from bloggers, at silly TV shows. I cry at alot of things.

But I rarely cry about life.

Don't get me wrong, I am not unemotional or unattached, it's just that I find that most women use tears as a way to manipulate people, mostly men. And I don't understand men who can't see through the tears.

When I do cry about something in life, you know it's serious. And when I reach that level, it's not a pretty cry, it's a horrible gut wrenching kind.

Bob, although he's becoming a softy like alot of men do as they age, laughs at me when I'm watching a movie or something on TV that gets the tears flowing. Even after 20 years, you'd think he'd stop saying, "Here comes the rain." when we're watching some sad or very happy show. I honestly think he says it only to keep himself from crying.

I can probably narrow down the things in life that make me cry to three things. Death, Love and Family.

A few years ago, one of my last uncles passed away from pancreatic cancer. Having lost my father 19 years ago, death of anyone, much less someone I love, immediately brings all of that up to the top of my throat and it's very hard to control.

But for some reason when Uncle Bob (yes there are alot of Bob's around in my life) passed away I could not for the life of me figure out why I was not crying.

Yeah, obviously a pancreatic cancer death is not a surprise and although not old, he was in his 70's, but still..... I loved Uncle Bob and (at that time) I had only one uncle left in the entire world.

We spent lots of summer nights at his house growing up.  He was really a funny guy who we all loved.

At the funeral I was sitting directly behind his family, next to my mom. It was a nice funeral, if there is such a thing, but for some reason I kept thinking over and over, "why isn't this bothering me more?" It was the first funeral since my dad died that I didn't spend the entire time crying.  I cry at complete stranger's funerals and I cried all day last week when the IMPD officer was laid to rest as I was iced in and the local station aired the funeral.

As my uncle's funeral was ending, we were standing and about to leave.  But apparently my aunt had told them to play a certain song, one from the 30's/40's era. One of those great songs my mom made sure I heard growing up.

I'll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
All day through.

In that small cafe;
The park across the way;
The children's carousel;
The chestnut trees;
The wishin' well.

I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day;
In every thing that's light and gay.
I'll always think of you that way.

I'll find you
In the morning sun
And when the night is new.
I'll be looking at the moon,
But I'll be seeing you.

As the very first notes played and I recognized the song, I swear that I physically felt like someone had just punched me in the gut. Since I didn't know what was coming, I could not stop the very audible sob(s) that came out of my mouth. It would have been embarrassing, except this was a funeral and it was my uncle and I loved him. And I missed my dad, and I felt horrible for my cousins and aunt and mom and my family and death and and and....apparently I have become very good at burying deep deep down inside the grief that can well up in me at a moment's notice since my dad's death.

And it was made even worse because I was about 20 minutes behind all of the rest of the family's sobbing. And I was LOUD. I really tried not to be, but I just lost it.

Honestly I think it shocked my mom, because I had been perfectly fine one minute and a complete utter pool of grief the next. And they are playing the song, the song my mom had taught me to love when I was so little, as we were supposed to be filing out of the church.

So my mom led me out of the church with her arm grabbing my shoulder as I shuddered my way down the long aisle.

Second Best

Happy 100th Birthday Mr. President

Wish we had someone like him for 2012.

Notice from the County

YOU ARE HEREBY SUMMONED TO APPEAR FOR JURY SELECTION....

Yeah, I won the lottery, even though I tried to explain that I am a self-employed contractor and added "primary wage earner" since Bob is semi-retired.

Last year that worked for being excused, not so much this year. They left a message on my voicemail that said that was not sufficient reason to be excused.

Just got my notice in the mail today.

Not to worry though, they will pay me a whopping $15 for the day and $40 a day if I'm actually selected. Hopefully they'll dismiss me so I won't lose another day's wages.

I'm going to make sure they understand that I am related to police officers, they NEVER want someone related to a cop on jury duty, they may actually believe in siding with the law, weird, huh?

Honestly I would be fascinated to be called for jury duty, if it just didn't cost me alot of money to serve.

There's worse things than coming home to snow.

This is just hitting too close to home.



My heart aches tonight for his family, his friends and particularly his fellow officers.



Tomorrow this fine public servant will be memorialized and on Tuesday he will be rightfully given a hero's funeral.

Paul Harvey's Tribute to our Fine Officers

Hey.... Over Here----->>>>>>>>>

Check out this guy at Rumbles from the Vent

He's the one I wrote about here

Warning: I bear no responsibilities for his antics either today or when we were kids.

The Grateful

Yesterday, I was shown a picture on an Iphone taken late last summer.

The old woman was severely hunched over her walker as she made the difficult journey up a very steep hill. She was not to be deterred from her mission. She spoke only six English words, but that was all she needed to say.

She was 6 years old in April 1945.

When going through his father's belongings, he found eight canisters filled with undeveloped film. He, like most of us, had never asked his father much about his military experience before it was too late. In going through the belongings, he found all of his military paperwork detailing his unit.

After hours and hours of research he found those aging soldiers who had served in the same unit as his father. He could follow the trail the unit had made. While America was planning the invasion of Normandy, there were thousands of soldiers also advancing from the south. His father's unit was among them.

He traced out the path those soldiers took and discovered that every year there was now a dwindling group that would tour the bloody path of war those soldiers trekked, through France and into Germany.

Sixty years later, those battles were resurrected from the eight canisters of film being developed between someone's recent trip to Disney World.

The pictures of the young weary soldiers were also joined by pictures of the atrocities of mankind.

In April 1945, his father's unit helped liberate Dachau. The Americans found 32,000 prisoners alive, 1,600 housed in each of the 20 bunkers designed to hold 250. The Germans had fled to avoid the advancing American troops.

Imagine finding images of the concentration camp along with hundreds, maybe thousands of bodies discarded along the ditches.

Bringing with him the pictures that now had been released from the canisters, he joined the small group that followed the path of the soldiers. Sadly there was now only three of them that remained healthy enough to make the trip.

The young Dachau tour guide was busy explaining to the group the standard memorized words when he was handed a picture of one of the buildings from 1945. He stopped and stared at the picture for a long time in amazement. Suddenly the young man could see the concentration camp as it appeared when the Americans arrived. He took the soldier's son to the building which was still standing, placed him in the precise location where his father had stood and the son took the exact picture his father had taken 65 years ago.

As the small group toured the rest of the camp, the aging bent woman finally made her way to them. She found one of the aging soldiers that arrived there on April 29, 1945.

She lowered herself from the walker and kneeled in front of the old man. She slowly took his hand, kissed it and uttered the only English words she understood.

She said in her extremely broken English, "Thank you for liberating my village."

Who I am and why I blog

After starting this blog nearly two years ago, I doubt that anything I've written answers any of those questions.    With my little Ordinary Life, I can't believe I have even one reader outside of my immediate family who are forced to read occasionally.

Anyway, since there are a handful of people who have happened upon my blog since I first started ( and the fact that I'm too lazy to write something interesting tonight), I'm reposting my very first post that explains just how ordinary a life I have thoroughly enjoyed. 


Dateline February 27, 2009:

I have an ordinary life. I can't say that I have tried to save the world or even one person. I have never made an impact on my country, my state, my town, not even my school when I was a kid.

Last year I attended a Women's Retreat in Indianapolis at a church. I will not say most of the things that happened there, because the beauty of the retreat was not knowing what to expect and when. But it made me look at my life a little differently.

My closest friend and I email several times a week, sometimes several times a day our thoughts, our lives, our funny stories, our sad times, our fears, things we would never tell anyone else because someone who doesn't know us as well might think we're boasting, whining, silly, etc.

In preparation for this weekend retreat I was emailing my friend about how little I had done with my life. I had not spent alot of time helping others. I wanted to, but it seems I'm always too busy. I was comparing myself to a lady that I've met who started a girls rescue house (Rapha House) in Cambodia. Stephanie Freed is an ordinary housewife who believed she could make a difference on the other side of the world and she is, one rescued girl at a time. You will see the blog link on my list of those I follow.

What have I done? Who have I helped? Without ever having kids of my own, how could I ever feel like I will be leaving a legacy?

As I told my friend, in a half joking email. My life has been rather.......pointless.

Of course she took exception to that and it wasn't until later that I realized that what I had just said to her was an insult.

She began working for me when she was 20 years old. She's now about to turn 38. I left that company 12 years ago and we continue to be as close as family. She needed the closeness of a mother and I needed the closeness of a daughter. We have seen each other through good times and bad times, never wavering from our friendship. If she had told me her life was pointless, even jokingly , I would have ripped her a new one for ignoring her importance in my life.

While I was really kidding about my life being pointless, I realized later that the word carries a certain connotation about the other people in my life. She, among many others is very important in my life and I know that I am very important in other people's lives. So then, how can my life be pointless? In fact, those words are an insult to virtually everyone I know and love.

I may not ever get to change things in the world, my state or even my block, but I have to be honest with myself and believe that I mean something to people like my friend. I've been blessed with a very close, tight-knit family that would be there for me, no questions asked. Again, saying my life is pointless is an insult to them and our relationship.

Nearly two years ago I ended up with some two separate fairly serious health issues that landed me in St. Francis Critical Care for 4 days and then, unrelated major surgery 6 weeks later at Community North (having compared to the two, I would advise NEVER go to Community). My 5 year-old grandson came to see me at both hospitals.

Now you have to understand, our grandson is ALL about his Papaw. I had always been an afterthought when Papaw would get busy doing something else. In Community Hospital (another 4 days) after my surgery, Papaw found he did not want to spend another weekend by himself so he asked to pick up our grandson for Saturday night. On the way home, they came to see me in the hospital.

Sunday morning my husband called me and said that our grandson had said he wanted to come see me again before he went back home. There wasn't time, but my husband said he could call me. Normally my grandson would only have one or two words to say to me on a phone call, but he talked to me for 20 minutes. It dawned on me that the previous night had been the first time he had stayed at our house without me being there. He was used to always counting on me listening to him if Papaw got too sidetracked.

A couple months later we were in the car taking him to our house to play. He blurted out of the blue, "Mamaw, I sure hope you don't have to go back to the hospital again." I was shocked by his words, I had made sure I didn't bring up my temporary health issues around him and the last hospital stay was two months prior. We had noticed that since then he would stick close to me, sitting on my lap (which hurt after surgery, but I wasn't going to complain), following me around, asking me how I was feeling, letting me snuggle him more often.

So after his comment about the hospital, it dawned on me that he had continued to question me about how I was ever since he visited me the last hospital stay. I realized then that I needed to calm his fears. He was obviously concerned and quite frankly, I was shocked by that. Neither of my hospital stays were related to each other, however both were fairly serious at the time, but nothing permanent. His continued questioning made me realize that, even at 5, he was concerned that I was really sick.

I explained to him that I was fine and I wouldn't have to go back into the hospital. Then he wanted to know why I had surgery. I thought it best not to explain a complete hysterectomy to a 5 year old, so I told him I had an "extra part" they needed to remove. He wanted to know if it would grow back. I smiled and assured him it would not.

Then he asked, "What would have happened if you hadn't had the surgery." At that time, I realized that I needed to come straight to the point.

I turned around and looked him straight in the eye and said, "I would NOT have died." And that was it. He never asked me again about the hospitals or the surgery. I think he just wanted reassurance that I was ok and he wasn't going to lose me.

Now someone explain to me how I could have said my life was pointless, even if I was half-joking?

So I have an ordinary life. I'm good with that. While I can continue to hope that I will help to make the world better, it reality there are alot of family and friends that would be upset at me for saying that my life is pointless.

No one's is.

And that very statement selfishly ignores those of us around us who loves us and counts on us.

I'm sorry I ever said it. Ordinary isn't pointless.

For a Little Laughter

It's damnyouautocorrect.com.  This is particularly relevant if you have an IPhone.  It's amazing what text you send the exact minute you hit the SEND button.

I am not responsible for any obscene language.

But this site makes me laugh nearly every day.

I want to live where there is no winter.

Are you kidding me?

Forty-nine states currently have snow.  Take a look.

The past two days we've had nasty blowing snow.    Only Florida does not have snow. 

Guess where I "ain't".

I wanna start my whining now.

I hate Indiana.  Except for the month of May.

Let's see, how many more days is it until May?   

Finally. A voice of reason

Although I didn't appreciate the cheers and shouting out from the young crowd filling the auditorium at the university, I finally found that President Obama delivered a comforting and healing speech to all this madness that has overtaken our great nation since Saturday.

His final words were delivered well.

"I believe we can be better. Those who died here, those who saved lives here – they help me believe. We may not be able to stop all evil in the world, but I know that how we treat one another is entirely up to us. I believe that for all our imperfections, we are full of decency and goodness, and that the forces that divide us are not as strong as those that unite us.

That’s what I believe, in part because that’s what a child like Christina Taylor Green believed. Imagine: here was a young girl who was just becoming aware of our democracy; just beginning to understand the obligations of citizenship; just starting to glimpse the fact that someday she too might play a part in shaping her nation’s future. She had been elected to her student council; she saw public service as something exciting, something hopeful. She was off to meet her congresswoman, someone she was sure was good and important and might be a role model. She saw all this through the eyes of a child, undimmed by the cynicism or vitriol that we adults all too often just take for granted.

I want us to live up to her expectations. I want our democracy to be as good as she imagined it. All of us – we should do everything we can to make sure this country lives up to our children’s expectations.
Christina was given to us on September 11th, 2001, one of 50 babies born that day to be pictured in a book called “Faces of Hope.” On either side of her photo in that book were simple wishes for a child’s life. “I hope you help those in need,” read one. “I hope you know all of the words to the National Anthem and sing it with your hand over your heart. I hope you jump in rain puddles.”

If there are rain puddles in heaven, Christina is jumping in them today. And here on Earth, we place our hands over our hearts, and commit ourselves as Americans to forging a country that is forever worthy of her gentle, happy spirit.

May God bless and keep those we’ve lost in restful and eternal peace. May He love and watch over the survivors. And may He bless the United States of America."

An update to my last post

For the Love of God.....STOP IT!  STOP IT!   STOP IT!!!!!!!

What is wrong with you people?   They are still running horrible stories about how political discourse caused this tragedy.

The sheriff in that town needs to be fired TODAY.  He'd rather spout his horrible politcal hate than do his job. 

His office was warned of the death threats ACCORDING TO HIM. 

If anyone has blood on their hands, that man better look in the mirror.

STOP THE POLITICIZING OF THESE HORRIBLE KILLINGS!

This madman had been planning this since 2007 because the government was controlling grammar and he didn't like the Congresswoman's grammar.  How in the name of God, does this relate to the TEA party, Sarah Palin or anyone else?  He even said he planned ahead, but even that hasn't stopped this prostitute we call the media.

I'm going to have to turn off my TV or watch a movie until all of the media scumbag find a new outlet or another tragedy to exploit.

They should hang their heads in shame.

I'm not talking about this guy.

Or this man.

Or this kid.

They each had an extreme hatred for the government but no one can deny that each one of them were sincerely absolutely mad men.  Insane mad men whose madness drove them to murder innocent lives.

I don't believe delirious mad men possess shame, only madness.

BUT.

The people that should be hanging their head in shame are the ones that are lighting up the headlines, blogs, TV and every single media outlet by blaming their "real enemy", the other political party.

It's sickening.  Absolutely appalling.  No amount of political discourse has caused any of these three men to murder innocent men, women and children.

These men are/were sick.

Every single media whore who wants to make a political statement to blame the opposition party for yesterday's tragedy are soulless bastards.  May God have mercy on their souls.

When anyone feels they want to find some blame, please remember this child.

Christina Green

9/11/01 - 1/8/11

That's right.  She was born on the day the rest of America was mourning.  Today we mourn with her parents.  This should not be a political stunt, this is an incredibly sad tragedy.

Let's get our priorities straight.

Since I've been such a downer lately.....

Hope you enjoy the video.

Kevin

This is the fine young man I've referred to in previous posts. As you can see, he's come so far.

Wonderful kid, funny personality and best of all a great outlook on all that his young life has dealt him.

(Please wait a minute or so, the video takes a while to appear, but it's definitely worth seeing.)

That's easy for you to say...

Thankfully Blogger is now blocking these crazy comments from showing up, but they still appear in my email messages. This one was in response to my granddaughter's illness.

Really, does anyone know what the heck this person is saying or hopes to gain by sending this nonsense.

"Well-spring, they studied to be taught that filing lawsuits is not the shoot of battle to restrict piracy. As contrasted with, it's to design something heartier than piracy. Like hypnotic of use. It's indubitably a the hither to tools easier to working-out iTunes than to search the Internet with jeopardy of malware and then crappy faith, but if people are expected to accept the blame for an behold to loads and stricture against ages, it's not affluent to work. They exactly be subjected to a rude without rest hitherto people flight of fancy up software and Spider's snare sites that construct it ridiculously amenable to infringer, and up the quality. If that happens, then there unfaltering be no stopping piracy. But they're too worry and essential of losing. Risks suffer with to be in seventh heaven!"

I think I'll rush right to the link they sent so they can fill my pc with some stupid virus.

Get a Life People!

Because We Believe - And So Does Linus

H/T to Hoosier Boy



I hope each of you have a peaceful and Merry Christmas.

While We Are Sleeping.

Since we are on the subject.......

Dark and early one morning he wanted to lecture me. At least that was what I thought while he was trying to convince me I was about to do something stupid.

It was a winter Saturday, ice had formed over the roads overnight and I needed to leave for my half work day. That great position I managed to secure at the ripe old age of 19. Filing checks at a bank for $2.45 an hour.

Do you remember how much smarter you were at 19 than you are today?

So I ignored my father's advice.

I hopped into my brand new 1978 baby blue Monte Carlo that I bought only four months previously. I loved that baby. It looked like this.

Well, at least it looked like that when I left my parent's driveway that morning.

In 1978, front wheel drive did not exist.  Well, it might have, but every car on the road was not front or all wheel drive like they are today.  Probably nearly anyone under 40 has never driven a rear wheel drive car. 

So, let me do the math here.  I was heading down Greenwood Road to earn a whopping $9.80 for the day. 

The road was mostly flat until you reached a fairly deep crevice.  At the top I remembered something my dad taught me when learning to drive (see, I DID listen occasionally).  I did not alter my speed.  I was driving slow because the roads were completely iced over.  Not snow, ICE.  I did not tap my brakes, he had told me that was always a bad thing to do on ice.

I had no fear at the top of the crevice.  As I eased downward, the back end of my precious blue baby swiveled a little.  I turned the wheel, corrected, well looking back, I over corrected.  I was now heading to the other side of the road.  Corrected/Overcorrected again as I am now in a vehicle that is like a sled with no runners.

Back and forth, back and forth heading down a big embankment, the car gaining gravity momentum.  One side was straight down probably 30 feet, the other side was as deep, lined with trees and brush.

I remember still fighting the wheel as I was desperately trying to straighten this sudden death trap from going straight down.  The car managed one more correction and then I was at a 90 degree angle heading for the side with the trees and brush.

I knew then I was helpless.  I slowly just lifted my hands from the wheel, heard my dad's ignored advice and distinctly remember thinking, "Well God if this is my time, so be it." as I left the pavement.  I KNEW this was the end.

I remember alot of crunching sound and being tossed around a little.  Back then, seat belts were not the law and they weren't shoulder belts.  In either case I wasn't wearing one.  Amazing how many things can run through your mind in the time it takes a car to leave the road and get wedged ten feet down between the trees and the embankment.

As I lifted my head at the end, I was shocked that I was still alive.  Honestly, I was not expecting in that five seconds to live.  I looked over where my left hand was, up by the driver's window and found it missing.  NO, not my hand, the window.

Then I had another thought.  I knew the car was badly damaged and I imagined the gas spilling and decided I better get out of that thing as quickly as possible.  I hopped out the window and I made my way back up the slick embankment, grabbing the trees and brush on the way.

I made it to the other side of the road and was about to head up to a house when I saw a co-worker try to drive past.  She could see the top of my car and almost lost control trying to stop.  When she finally was able to stop she rushed out and asked if I was ok.  I said yes and then she said, "Where are you bleeding?"  She held my left hand up which had blood running all over it.  I did not feel a thing, so I did not know I was bleeding.  I took both my hands and palmed my face thinking I was bleeding from some gaping wound.   I wasn't, it was only my left hand fingers that had apparently helped to break the window during the crash.

I got to work, called my dad, who called the police and a wrecker.

An hour later, dad picked me up at work and took me to the emergency room and then on to where they were towing my car so I could retrieve what little I had in it.  As we pulled up, I saw my precious baby blue baby mangled and I cried like a baby.   (Yes I know there were three babies in that sentence.)  One of my dad's friends walked up to our car to make sure I was okay, thought all my boohoo'ing was because I was hurt.  They told dad they had to get two wreckers to unwedge my car from between the trees and the embankment.   My very first new car was totaled after only four months.  I have pictures somewhere, but locating them and scanning them in would take me forever.

I may not have heard my dad that morning, but I sure hear him every icy day since then even though he passed away 19 years ago, just a few weeks after his 60th Christmas birthday.

Some people still laugh at me when I play it safe and refuse to drive on icy days.  I can do snow, I refuse to do ice.  No amount of money, not $9.80 or thousands of dollars is worth risking my life over.  The people that laugh at me never took that out of control roller coaster ride where I knew my life was ending and all because I wouldn't listen to my dad's sage advice.

Oh and btw, he never said, "I told you so."


H/T to Hoosier Boy  and
Ed for starting and expanding this conversation.

Wondering what gift to give for Christmas?

How about this one?

Best all all....it's FREE!

Lately

I got nothin. 

Nothin to say. 

Nothin to write. 

Well, I do have several things I'd like to write, but they would all take alot of thought and emotion and I just don't seem to have enough energy.  I think I just need a long long sabbatical. 

But, just in time to shake off a little of the burgeoning Christmas/Winter blues, my sister posted this video on her fb page.  I felt so much lighter after watching.  Watch it.  It'll cheer you up too.

I believe -This reminds me of someone I thought as a grandpa.

Today

Like Everyday.  I Am An American.

I am NOT the Enemy!

The Elevator

Several years ago we spent five nights at The Venetian in Las Vegas. For those unfamiliar with the resort, it's an upscale hotel in the heart of the strip and was (at that time) one of the most expensive places to stay. The cheap trip to Las Vegas is long gone.

On the last night of our stay, Bob was having a good time hitting the one armed bandits and I was ready to retire to our room. It wasn't extremely late, maybe 11 or so and there was still alot of activity in the casino. Actual access to the elevator to the hotel rooms was monitored somewhat by someone checking to see if you had a hotel room key.

While waiting alone at the bank of elevator, a tall, slightly older man also joined me waiting for the elevator.

I can't say that I felt entirely comfortable. There was not anything outwardly wrong with his appearance, it was just a feeling I suddenly had that raised the hair on the back of my neck.

Before one of the elevators reached the ground floor, there were a handful of other people that had also gathered in the area.

When we all got on the elevator, I sensed an uneasiness about the man, as if he wasn't thrilled to see other people get on the elevator. I waited to see what floor he punched on the panel. I was relieved to see that he was getting off on the floor before me, which was before the floor of the people that joined us. I THEN finally punched the button on my upper floor.

When we arrived at the man's floor, he didn't get off the elevator. The door opened and then closed.

My "fear factor" grew even more. I knew that the group of people that had joined us was getting off of the floor below mine, which meant I could be alone in an elevator with someone who was making me nervous and who did not get off on the floor he originally punched.

When I watched all of the other group get off on the floor before mine, the man still stayed on the elevator. Just before the doors closed, I heard some long ago advice. Do not find yourself alone on an elevator with someone who makes you uncomfortable.

I decided to follow the group out the door to the floor that was not the one we were staying on. I swear I could audibly hear the man make a very odd frustrated sigh. I left him alone on the elevator and scooted along with the group acting like I knew exactly where I was going.

I went down a hallway or two and waited for a couple minutes before I got back on the elevator to ascend to the proper floor. Luckily the elevator was empty so I made my way up. But that didn't stop me from continuing to look around on my floor for some Jeffrey Dahmer type finding me alone in a hallway to my room.

I would like to think that this guy was absolutely harmless.

But.

What if I had ignored my intuition?

Just to make it clear, the man was of my own race. So it was not as if I walked into an elevator with a black or hispanic man and was instantly afraid. I am not a racist or a bigot. This was just a creepy creepy feeling. To be honest, although he was older, he gave me the instant feeling of Jeffrey Dahmer and I cannot tell you why. My "creepiness" radar went off the minute he came in the aisle waiting for the elevator.

If I had ignored my instinct, I "probably" would have found that I would get off on my floor and the man I felt like was a creep could have just simply punched the wrong floor and realized it too late. He might have been some wonderfully sweet old man who lived a honorable life and I was just too quick to judge.

I considered all those options as the elevator was ascending, but.....what if my instinct had been right? What if his original frustration at having people join us in the elevator and me getting off on their floor was not some wild imagination on my part?

AND, what if he really was someone like Jeffrey Dahmer? And I lived my life in la-la land thinking there were only good people in this world and I didn't have to be aware of my surroundings and predicament.

The truth is. If the latter were true, I could have made one of the best decisions of my life by getting off the elevator with another group of people and not subjected myself to something I do not even want to have nightmares about.

If the former were true, I offended no one. I, alone, was simply inconvenienced for a couple of minutes by exiting on a floor that was not mine, milling around until I felt safe enough to get back in an empty elevator and go on to my room alone, locking the door and breathing a sigh of relief.

Being nervous about someone and insuring your safety does not make you paranoid (unless you find yourself in that predicament on a daily basis) and taking precaution does not make you weird or a racist or bigot if that person happens to be of a different race or color.

The only difference in my decision today vs that long ago decision, is that I would not gotten on the elevator to begin with. I know the experts tell women to not get on an elevator alone with an unknown man at all, but I don't have that fear. I have been on many elevators with very nice men, white, black, hispanic, etc who strike a short casual conversation and have never had that feeling. Which is scary now that I think about it, because I know this man below was a mastermind at hiding that he was sent by Satan himself.

I Don't Care About Your Politics

But I cannot forget that this man gave me comfort at a time when I thought the world was ending. And I cannot forget that I believe he stuck by what he believed regardless of whether the polls were with him or not.

Liberals of course run the gamut of saying he masterminded 9/11 to saying he was a complete idiot. A dichotomy which doesn't match up.

Conservatives complain because he spent too much money. I believe all bets were off after 9/11. Having worked in the financial industry, I still don't have an opinion on the first TARP bailout. I spent 30 years in the industry and I remember thinking about how many businesses would be affected if we had originally let it all fail.

I know one thing, I don't know the answer and I don't believe anyone else does either, regardless of their politics or supposed intellect.

I believe history will treat this man much more kindly than today's generation does.

9/11 changed everything for me. He would not have been my first choice for President his first go-round, but 8 months later I relished in his faith, strength and leadership and I thanked God he was leading our nation.

I cannot for the life of me imagine anyone else being a true leader at the scariest time for America.

God Bless you President Bush. And I don't care who I offend by saying that.

True Sportsmanship

THIS is what we should be teaching our kids in high school sports.   It's not just about the game.




H/T to Beej

Sleep, perchance to dream

This week, once I'm asleep, man am I asleep.

The problem is MAKING MYSELF GO TO BED.

Which I wouldn't have a problem with if I didn't have to work and actually wake up with an alarm.

Taking 10 days off, but it's about 3 hours past late and I have to get up to catch an early plane.  I'm going to hate myself in the morning.

Maybe it won't be so bad since I took about an hour nap from 6 to 7 tonight.

This week reminds me of when the project I was working on went live last February and I was sometimes working 20 hours or more straight and sometimes not getting home until 5 in the morning. 

Not good with crazy sleep patterns.

Back when I was younger that kind of crazy sleep pattern would guarantee a migraine.  I guess there is one good thing about getting old. 

I may lack sufficient hours of sleep, but I don't suffer from the horrible migraines that plagued me most of my life. 

OK, given the choice I'll take a lack of sleep.

God Weeps

When His message is perverted by these vile, evil people that try to claim they are Christians.

I first saw them once downtown.  I'm not sure what they were picketing, but I remember seeing their horrible signs about Matthew Shepard being in hell after he was viciously murdered because he was gay.

I saw them again in a southern Indiana town, again, not sure what brought them out there, but their vile signs make me want to throw something out of my car at them.

The sad part is that many people think these horrible people are actually Christian. 

My Bible teaches me that I am not to judge.  I don't have to agree with people's lifestyle or their beliefs to continue to love them.  I can still believe in sin, but I wasn't nailed on the cross for someone else's sin, so who am I to judge that someone else's sin is worse than my own?

But I have to believe there is a very special place in hell for the idiots that protest at soldiers' funerals with the hateful signs and protests.

Today, both sides were presented to the Supreme Court.  I fully support the soldier's father who brought the lawsuit but.......

Free speech applies to all, right? 

That soldier fought for his country and that includes defending everyone's right to free speech, no matter how vile.

My husband fought for his country and that includes defending everyone's right to free speech, no matter how vile.

I don't believe either of them believed that the freedom of speech meant only speech that didn't offend me tremendously. 

Let me make it clear, I DO NOT SUPPORT the idiots at this so called "church", but if we limit their speech because it offends me, when is my speech going to be limited because it offends someone?

They say the Supreme Court's decision will probably come down sometime early next year.  I will be waiting their outcome, but I do not know how this soldier's poor father can or should win this one. 

I DO believe that the Westboro idiots will find they will be the ones burning in hell long before Matthew Shepard or any of our brave soldiers.  

"Jesus wept" 

Updated: The Jury is NOT out - Found Innocent

Could you convict this face?

I know I couldn't.

This would have to be one of those times Aunt Rita would break.  Luckily she's blessed with a mom who knows how to deal with this face.

I wouldn't be strong enough.  I'd just cave.  Parenting is hard, maybe that's why God never allowed me to be one.

UPDATE:

The very next day, her teacher wrote a note:  It's shown below:

Told you she was innocent.  At least she must have been by the very next day.  She was Sooooo proud to tell us she got a note from her teacher.  And we STILL are in the dark as to why she was in trouble the day before.

Game On

Manning Rivalry at it's best. Go Colts!



Just saw this one again before the game and what I missed was Peyton's last line. "Oh my God, there's a spider in here."

Next up is just too cute.

The Mis-Estate

In 1955, one little store opened in my town.  As all single stores start, it began as a family owned business.  It expanded to 2, 5, 10, kept grown slowly and remained a private company.

Slowly over the years, they got a bit bigger, not skyrocketing like the big box stores, that wasn't their style. It remained a private company.

When some other companies expanded quickly across the nation, ladening themselves with debt during the great economic times, the "local" company grew more slowly, they resisted the urge to make a quick buck.

It stayed a family owned business up until 3 years ago when they went public. That one single store has grown to over 250, starting to take over more and more across the nation in their industry. Several of the national chains went out of business during these hard economic times. The little store took advantage of buying up their real estatex at a time when real estate was now cheap and they continued to open stores only with profits rather than big debts.  The little store has maintained a 20% growth rate in the worst of economic times and the big national chain competition that has remained in business is becoming more agitated when the little store began to occupy space close to them. 

So, here's the moral of the story.

Prior to becoming a public company, this tiny store which had grown slowly over the last 50 years stayed as family owned company. They employed 3,000 people over several midwest states.

Being privately owned, profit from the company was taxed as income to the family owners each year. Those 3,000 people they employed payed taxes on the income they received from the "little" company.   Add those taxes being paid each year by all involved and you will come up with some fairly large amount of revenue coming into the state and federal governments.

The family that opened the little store in 1955 had no plans to become multi-millionaires, they just wanted a little bit of the American Dream. 

Again, remember that in 2001, this was a family owned company, mainly owned by the father. The Estate Tax Reduction (some of the "Bush" tax cuts" we are hearing so many bad things about) was enacted in 2001 with an expiration in 2011. Prior to the limited time for estate tax break, the inheritated tax rates were staggering.  Check below for the rates that are about to become law again.

For amounts not greater than $10,000, the tax liability is 18% of the amount.
For amounts over $10,000 but not over $20,000, the tentative tax is $1,800 plus 20% of the excess over $10,000.
For amounts over $20,000 but not over $40,000, the tentative tax is $3,800 plus 22% of the excess over $20,000.
For amounts over $40,000 but not over $60,000, the tentative tax is $8,200 plus 24% of the excess over $40,000.
For amounts over $60,000 but not over $80,000, the tentative tax is $13,000 plus 26% of the excess over $60,000.
For amounts over $80,000 but not over $100,000, the tentative tax is $18,200 plus 28% of the excess over $80,000.
For amounts over $100,000 but not over $150,000, the tentative tax is $23,800 plus 30% of the excess over $100,000.
For amounts over $150,000 but not over $250,000, the tentative tax is $38,800 plus 32% of the excess over $150,000.
For amounts over $250,000 but not over $500,000, the tentative tax is $70,800 plus 34% of the excess over $250,000.
For amounts over $500,000 but not over $750,000, the tentative tax is $155,800 plus 37% of the excess over $500,000.
For amounts over $750,000 but not over $1,000,000, the tentative tax is $248,300 plus 39% of the excess over $750,000.
For amounts over $1,000,000 but not over $1,250,000, the tentative tax is $345,800 plus 41% of the excess over $1,000,000.
For amounts over $1,250,000 but not over $1,500,000, the tentative tax is $448,300 plus 43% of the excess over $1,250,000.
For amounts over $1,500,000 but not over $2,000,000, the tentative tax is $555,800 plus 45% of the excess over $1,500,000.
For amounts over $2,000,000 but not over $2,500,000, the tentative tax is $780,800 plus 49% of the excess over $2,000,000.
For amounts over $2,500,000 but not over $3,000,000, the tentative tax is $1,025,800 plus 53% of the excess over $2,500,000.
For amounts over $3,000,000, the tentative tax is $1,290,800 plus 55% of the excess over $3,000,000.
Additionally, estates of decedents that die after December 31, 2010, will be subject to a 5% surcharge on the excess of their estate over $10,000,000.

If the store's "ol dad" had passed away prior to 2001, the no-longer-little store would have become part of his estate. 

The little store heirs would have had to pay over $25 MILLION dollars in estate taxes alone.

It isn't that hard to imagine what would have happened, is it?

To pay the inheritance tax would have closed down the no-longer little store because now this family was  considered "wealthy".  As has been said many times, how many people are hired by the poor?

If that scenario had happened, the growing enterprise would have had to shut the doors to pay an estate tax on a company that had already been paying the income tax by the owners and the employees.

Along with that, 3,000 people would have been unemployed and they would not have been paying tax on their income.

Due to the estate tax reduction and the store now being a public company, a death in the family will not close the store that is growing fast and safely and hiring 100's of employees each month in the new areas they are now "invading" from the big retailers.

When I was researching this post, I was shocked and I do mean shocked at the estate taxes reductions that could very well likely expire this year.

Last week we finally went to talk with an estate planner. 

Let's get this straight.  We are NOT wealthy.  But we have worked hard, have plenty of life insurance that is considered part of the value of the estate for determining rates (but not taxed) and I looked on what taxes could be due if we both die after December 31, 2010. 

It's shocking, shocking.   So we are a bit like the little one store shop that just worked hard over all of our lives and didn't do stupid spending that wasn't necessary.  (Well with the exception of us NOT being multi-millionaires.)

Now is there any wonder why there are alot of people like us that do not agree with raising the tax on the "wealthy"?

The majority of the wealthy are business owners that employ millions of people.  Taxing the wealthy puts more and more people out of work and the wealthy remain wealthy.   And history has proven that when tax rates go up LESS revenue comes into the federal government because growth is stiffled and there is less income to tax, much less income.

I hated Economics in college, and this makes me realize why.  There are so many people that just don't get it.

So in case you missed it, you and your spouse need to die this year or the govenment will likely take away 50% of your net worth from your heirs. 

Or we can contact our "representatives" in the government and complain like hell to extend (it should permanently extend) the estate tax cuts "for the wealthy".  You'd be surprise to learn the government thinks even you and I are wealthy, especially when alot of our "wealth" is nothing more than a decent life insurance policy.