War

I’m having issues with my neighbor. One little thing led to a bigger thing and now it’s a full blown mess. Ayayay! Where’s the United Nations when you need it?

It’s easy to shout “make love not war” and flash the peace sign when you’re not involved. But when bullets whiz past you and you call in for back up, all bets are off. It’s a fight for survival.

WWJD
It’s the perfect time to ask “What Would Jesus Do?” Well, he certainly had his enemies … enemies that actually orchestrated problems like … I dunno … maybe something called a “crucifixion?” He was compassionate with the little guys who had nothing. But, boy, did he berate the powerful and the entitled — calling them a “brood of vipers!” He shared the story of the Good Samaritan teaching that sworn enemies (blinded by hate) should (instead) open their eyes to a fellow human being in need.

There is also the story of the prostitute who was caught in the act and dragged in front of Jesus. But instead of stoning her, as was legally required, he challenged them: “those of you who are without sin, cast the first stone.” I imagine these macho self-righteous men picking up their stone. Then Jesus starts writing on the ground with his fingers (obviously the roads weren’t paved). Upon reading (whatever it was he wrote), one by one (from the oldest to the youngest) they put down their stone and walked away. Then Jesus, alone with the woman (who was probably staring at the pile of rocks that should have been on top of her), asked her “where are your accusers?” She doesn’t see anyone … except Jesus. Was Jesus going to cast the stone? Nah! To her surprise, he says “Go on home … sin no more.” Oooooh!

Just because you could, doesn’t mean you should. Just because it’s the law, doesn’t mean you cannot be compassionate. Just because my neighbor is a complete, total, certified jerk doesn’t mean I should blast him off the face of the earth … maybe squirt him a bit with a Holy Water pistol … Wait! Wait! Do I really have to do that?! Boy! It’s tough when you’re a Christian, huh? We are to follow the beat of a different drummer.

School Brawl
Did I tell you that I got into a fight when I was a kid? Back in the days, the teacher would appoint a handful of the students to clean the blackboards, mop and wax the floors (yup! you better believe we did that!). I don’t remember exactly why … I think my classmate and I were just in a bad mood … but I remember we were fighting over who got to use the coconut husk to polish the floor and we were rolling on the floor trying to out-wrestle each other. As in most fights, we both walked out of the room with our soiled white uniform shirts holding on to the little pride that was left. I remember my Mom looking at my disheveled appearance when I got home and asking me if I got into a fight. I lied and said I was just playing. I know she knew better but even I knew, at that age, we boys were sworn into secrecy. Seeing my classmate the next day was a little awkward. Did he report me to his Mom? Was I going to get into trouble? Fortunately, days of peace passed and we both surmised neither of us squealed. The next thing I remember we were hanging out and we never ever talked about it. To this day we are in touch and are still friends. In fact, I greeted him a happy birthday a few days ago.

Conclusion
Life is full of conflicts. The lines have been drawn between good and evil. No one wants to be on the bad side but obviously one has to be on the wrong side. Take your pick: Republicans vs. Democrats. Abortionists vs. Pro-Lifers. LGBTQ warriors vs. Rabid Homozexuals. Gun controllers vs 2nd Amendment Freedom Fighters. Those who hang their roll of toilet paper over vs those who hang the roll under. Difficult as it may be, I think we are placed here in this world to learn to deal with conflicts and practice tolerance and compassion. (Of course there still has to be justice and of course, we should ‘sin” no more — but that’s for another story.) Once the stone is cast, both sides lose.

We aren’t perfect … we may actually be wrong. And, as the brawl with my classmate taught me, foes can turn into our best friends.

But this is just me. TGIF people!

Raoul

“Fight all your battles on your knees and you win every time.” — Anonymous

“Then neither do I condemn you,” Jesus declared. “Go now and leave your life of sin.” — John 8:11

“On the contrary: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.” – Romans 12:20

“People who fight fire with fire usually end up with ashes.” — Abigail Van Buren

JOKE OF THE WEEK

Thanks to Tom of Pasadena, CA

Video of the Week

Thanks to Bryce of Rhode Island for this hilarious prank

Parting Shots

Thanks to Benny of Chicago

There isn’t a joke. I just thought it was interesting for you Beatles fans.

Thanks to Thomas of Australia

Thanks to Art of Sierra Madre, CA
(Not a joke. Just an interesting trivia)

Thanks to Tom of Pasadena, CA

Thanks to Drew of Anaheim, CA

I found these:

My good friend (and jokester) Terry and I came up with this.

SUBSCRIBE

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With the Ken Burns and Lynn Novick three-part, six-hour documentary film series, devoted to the life of Ernest Hemingway, much excitement has been generated about the legendary writer and his enduring influence on literature and culture.

So, the time is ripe for Three Things About Hemingway, courtesy of T-Boy writer, Richard Carroll.

Mr. Carroll has been involved with Hemingway his entire adult life, and is a member of The Hemingway Society.

Three Things You May Not Know About Hemingway

By Richard Carroll

With hundreds of books and articles covering Hemingway, his life, and international travels, I’m including a few details that Hemingway aficionados might have forgotten or overlooked.

Hemingway lived in Cuba a total of 22 years of his 61 years in a rambling converted farmhouse on a hill overlooking the small town of San Francisco de Paula. The home called Finca Vigia offered distant views of the lights of Havana and was renowned in the world of international letters.

Hemingway was adored by the Cubans and to this day the Havana Hemingway Tour is the most popular. Hemingway once said in a speech who spoke perfect Spanish with an American accent, that he would give the medal from his Nobel Prize for The Old Man and the Sea, to “Nuestro Senora de la Caridad del Cobre,” who is the virgin saint of Cuba. Throughout his years in Cuba Hemingway and his wife Mary briefly met Castro only once at a Hemingway Fishing Tournament, though Castro was an avid Hemingway aficionado.

Hemingway was not close to his mother Grace, was deep into his cups except when on deadline or composing, never smoked though it was the fashion during his day, and had a great ear for crisp dialogue, and believed that the adjective was the enemy of the noun.

Don’t miss Richard Carroll’s A Magical Walk Through Hemingway’s Paris.

The post Three Things About Ernest Hemingway appeared first on Traveling Archive.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

So I’m thinking of shaving my head.

I was brushing my teeth in front of the mirror the other night and I saw this patch of skin at the back of my scalp glistening in the reflection. I knew my hair was thinning but I didn’t know I was losing that much hair. It was pathetic … reminded me of the Amazon Jungle suffering from years of deforestation.

Suddenly, I’m looking at hair-growing products, wigs, hair extensions, caps, vitamins, hair coloring, etc.. people actually believe those ads! Suckers! This hair business is a multi-billion dollar industry feeding on the vanity of people. “Dude,” I said to myself, “face the fact that you’re getting old. If a billionaire like Donald Trump cannot regrow his hair, what are your chances?”

Later, I’m looking at our living room and I see a clump of dog hair rolling down the wooden floor like hay balls in the desert. Talk about adding insult to injury. Our two corgis stare at me … snickering like they know I’m breaking the 11th Commandment — “Though shalt not covet thy dog’s hair.” I’m thinking that maybe I can invent a way to stick those dog hair to the human skull. The inspiration quickly dies when I envision Larry of the 3 Stooges with his wistful side hair.

I look up and ask God why He invented hair in the first place. I remember an anthropology article saying that hair was made to protect the skull — to soften the blows on the head while chasing dinosaurs. Hogwash! If that were true, please explain why some Westerners look like hairy gorillas and most Asians are hairless like the cats of nefarious criminals. Don’t tell me Westerners had more blows on their head. No, I think hair was created to gauge how many years are left in this old body. There comes a point in life when you’re bald and ugly, when you’re as old as me, when you have to accept that you are no longer the tall, dark, handsome, drop-dead gorgeous Adonis. Move over virile Tarzan. Hello pitiful Professor Xavier.

I decide to look at the bright side. I won’t have to spend for hair products anymore. I won’t have to comb my hair after I shower. When the wind blows, my hair won’t get messed up anymore. I wonder: do bald men have dandruff? Do they still go to a barber or do they just shave themselves? Will I need to start buying shoe polish?

How’s YOUR hair? Are you aging gracefully or are you searching for that wonder drug for the follicle challenged? Give up the fight, Dude. Come to the dark side … I mean the bright, shiny side! Accept the truth that you were never really beautiful to begin with. No one will notice the transition. Once you were ugly with lots of hair. Now you’ll be ugly without hair. Either way, you’ll still be ugly. Bwa ha ha ha ha!

Now that my hair is going, I’m beginning to notice my friends’ hair. Most have thin hair. Many have white hair. Many dye their hair. Others tie their hair into a bun to make sure the remaining strands hide their bald spots. The smart ones shaved — which is where I’m going. Mr. Clean, here I come!

TGIF people!

Raoul

“I knew I was getting bald when it was taking longer and longer to wash my face.”
— Harry Hill

Joke of the Week

Thanks to Art of Sierra Madre, CA for this joke.

Video of the Week

Thanks to Jacqueline of Pasadena, CA

Parting Shots

Thanks to Rodney of Manitoba, B.C.

Thanks to Tom of Pasadena, CA

I found these series of baby jokes to remind me of the days when I started growing hair.

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Tonka the Mighty Dog

When our corgi, Tonka, was a puppy, he was an excitable gnawing machine. He’d chew on the legs of the chairs, the walls, my slippers… but most of all he would strangle the necks of our 3 cats just to show them who was boss. This week I was pleasantly surprised to find all 3 cats lying in “Tonka” territory and King Tonka relaxing with them. Tonka has finally matured. They finally get along.

Wouldn’t it be nice if America matured? Instead of reacting to every news item, and stressing everyone out, can we just watch and observe? Don’t be a sucker to the news media’s little game.

Three weeks after the stormy US election day and still no official winner has been declared. Cries of foul play reverberate among the Republicans. The Democrats proceed as if they already won. Sure there are rants from both sides but I do notice “a relative” calm. Why? Campaigning is over. Convincing is over. We’re just waiting for the dust to settle. The political boxing match has transformed into the quiet excitement of a grand master chess tournament. I know we all can get passionate about our politics but no matter who wins, one thing is certain: America is truly divided; It means there are just as many people on the other side of your politics.

Be safe, be healthy, and remember: maturity isn’t based on years but based on experience. TGIF people!

Raoul

Joke of the Week

Thanks to Mel of Washington, D.C.  for sharing these jokes.

So many enjoyed the Jewish Jokes last week that I decided to share some more from clean jokes from the old-time Jewish comedians.

Video: Contagious Laughter

Thanks to Ed of Greater Manila, Philippines

Tom’s Puns

Thanks to Tom of Pasadena, CA who sent this pun.

Parting Shots

Thanks to Don of Kelowna, B.C.

Thanks to Joji of Antipolo, Philippines

Thanks Naomi, the animal lover of North Hollywood, CA for this adorable gag

Thanks to Peter Paul of S Pasadena, CA. When you look in the mirror, does this thought ever cross your mind?

The post MORE Jewish Jokes appeared first on Traveling Archive.

Our kitchen was about twenty-five foot square and our large table was right in the middle, and my parents, Sister’s Petty and Mary and my Brother Bobby, met together every night for dinner at six o’clock sharp.

Coming through the kitchen door, saying “Hi Mom,” and throwing your shoes and jacket on the hall tree was the order of the day.  Most days there was the smell of freshly baked cookies in the air and that smell was like getting a great big hug.  There was always milk to drink and if I didn’t know better, I’d say we had our very own cow in the backyard, because of the amount of milk we all drank which only sold in pints or quarts at that point in time.  I still remember the sound of the milk man’s truck early in the morning with his clinking bottles in his wire rack.

After school my mother would ask about school or sports which is one of my fondest memories.  I loved talking to my mom because she was so smart and kind.  My mother’s friends called me, “Little Miss United Nations” because I had friends from all over the world come home with me to do homework or play.  I did not know what that title meant until years later.

No matter what you were doing or where you were, you always came home by 5:45 in time for dinner.  There was no such thing as a television, no frozen T.V. dinner’s, no aluminum foil, no laundromat, no air-conditioners, and I think I remember when the “Jolly Green Giant” was born!  When a local bowling alley added air-conditioning, us kids watched a lot of bowling to cool down at night.  That plus sitting on the stoop at night talking was a treat.

Sometimes at dinner, my mom would hum, “Mable, Mable, sweet and able, get your elbows off the table” if any of us put our elbows on the table.  We lived in a beautiful basement apartment of a three story brown stone in Chicago and the students who’d come from all over the country to go to various colleges lived upstairs.

All of those young students adored my parents because they were home sick and, we subscribed to the “There’s always room for one more” rule.  They’d stop by in the mornings for a cup of cocoa or coffee my mom made every day of the week.  My mother would listen to every one’s troubles or the hopes and dreams they had.  She’d always give out hugs or advice, gave aid and comfort or punch their sympathy card if that was what they needed.

My mom and all the women in my family are good listeners who always seem to find the time to just listen.  It must be an innate trait because we all have that ability. Throughout my life, and no matter how young I was, total strangers would tell me their most private stories and memories.

My mom worked nonstop every day of the week.  She never complained and loved every minute of her day, and I do that to this day.  She would invite her many friends stop in for lunch and she out lived all of her friends.  She told me it was the worst thing that ever happened to her.

My dad would relieve mom on Saturdays and we’d spend the whole day going all over Chicago.  My mother didn’t cook on Saturdays because around four o’clock she’d take our orders and write a note and I’d walk down to the local Hot Dog stand and place the order.  We’d all eat hot dogs and fries Saturday evenings which was followed by Root Beer floats made by my dad.  He called them Black Cows.  Life was good.

Sundays my dad would come around to all of our bedrooms and give us options for breakfast and we’d generally pick his famous French toast with crisp bacon and I was called “the bacon snitcher!”  He cooked breakfast to relieve my mother from her busy schedule.  She’d relax and drink her coffee and read the Sunday papers.  All of us kids would walk to church and the rest of the day was reserved for laziness and reading the funnies when we came back from church.  We all loved being together.

The radio played a big part of our lives back then.  After school there was The Lone Ranger, Roy Rogers, Flash Gordon and the Creaking Door to listen to.  At night there was Abbott & Costello, Bob Hope, Jack Benny, The Marx Brothers and Amos and Andy who rounded out the group.  In 1947, my aunt Ollie bought us a television set.  Oh boy, did that open up a can of worms.  Our whole family looked forward to many interesting shows and I will never forget Kukla, Fran & Ollie or Captain Kangaroo, two of the first shows directed at kids.

My mother lost her mom when she was only nine years old.  Her father was a Scottish sea captain but a tyrannical parent.  She vowed to never treat her children the way she was if she ever became a parent.  Both her and my aunt Ollie left Canada two years apart and came to Chicago to get away from their father and they lived happily ever after.

My mother met my dad a few months after she arrived and the rest is history.  There’s was truly a love story and both of them took advantage of the opportunities that came their way.

My childhood home was filled with wisdom, understanding, compassion, empathy, affection and love.  I have been one of the most fortunate people in the world.  I married my best friend, raised my children, who actually like me, and been surrounded by wonderful friends throughout my life.  I am truly blessed and very grateful.

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