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As we wake up in our own perfect worlds all our own, a family, a job, a weekend planned with friends, a painted on smile and a taken for granted blessing of the love and understanding of a family. There are those that have gotten lost on this unpredictable journey of life.
Some say its through actions of their own, others don’t give it much thought as to why they are homeless and unemployed, but see them as a lesser human and burden on society. But what drove someone’s son/daughter, brother/sister, husband/wife to living day by day in the ugly, confused dangerous world of depression, drug addiction and alcoholism? Truth is we are all one second, one life event away from that downward spiral from “that perfect world” we live in.
Its the young solder coming home to closed doors because of what he had to do for his country in a far off land. Their thoughts still haunted from what his or her young mind still can’t grasp from living through the hells of combat. As a society, we have become disillusioned by glorification of violence and war. For these young men and women these scenes are played over and over watching their friends get killed beside them, or having to kill to survive. At 19yrs old that’s a lot to ask for anyone, at any age that’s more then should ever have to be placed on anyone. Then to come home to a country where the government cast them aside because we are suppose to be accepting of the “enemy”. They come home shattered, broken and untrusting full of questions with no answers, looking for that comforting and understanding embrace. Someone to listen to their fears and help them make sense of the hell they can’t shake. As a father of a young soldier, I think about this every second of every hour of everyday. Its not a question of ” if” its a matter of when he will be deployed to face these grim realities of war. Sleepless nights, anxious days of trying to think of the answers that are going to comfort and help make sense of it all.
As I see it, every young solder, every old veteran who wears or had worn the American over their heart, is my son, daughter, my brother or sister, my father or mother, my grandfather or grandmother, and so forth. They all deserve our time and appreciation, for they sacrificed their time and lives for each and everyone of us so we can have what we take for granted from day to day. They don’t ask for your time or sympathy but they deserve our appreciation and undying love and understanding of what they gave up and left behind on the battlefield to return home. So before you judge what you don’t understand, walk a mile with them and see if you can bare the burden they carry.
As I sit here and watch and listen to people and how they react or their non-reaction to others around them, it amazes me how shallow and unattached to our counterparts we have become. For example: the old man, with a lost confused look in his eyes as his shaking hands struggled to open the door. The young guy sitting close to the door, just sitting and watching the elderly man struggle. The three highschool girls at the counter flaunting their looks and daddy’s money, while the highscool girl taking their ridicule and order, while she hides behind the register and what was a smile now has embarrassment on her face. The 30 something on his phone, while his beautiful wife sits there wanting him to ask about her day and the two kids fighting for the attention of a guy that seems to not even acknowledge their existence. And the homeless man pushing his whole exsistance in front of the restraunt stopping to dig in his pocket to see if he has the change for a drink on this hot day, while two people in their 50’s have a look of disgust as the homeless mans face turns from hope to despair over the lack of a nickel.
Doesn’t the young man watching the elderly man know that its not going to be long and he will be that old man that is trapped in his memories and confusion and those are his hands that tremble. And doesn’t that girl hiding under her visor and the cash register know that she’s beautiful and is going to be the object of the boys affection in time, while those three Barbi’s are more then likely never going to know what self respect and true happiness, because they will never know what its like to work and earn their own way through this life.
The guy on his phone won’t realize that those Continue reading →
I have always been a history buff along with a passion for art, in my eyes we really cant have one with out the other. So many of the old masters relayed the political views, human living conditions and the happenings of the times through art, that was their social media, like the internet is today.
I was asked a question that really made me think, and I want to pass it on to you, but not yet. Lets get a back story to lead up to an unbiased conclussion and see if you can see the answer, if there is a right or wrong way to answer this. We all know of the horrific acts of this deranged tyrant, his will to conquer the world and the dark stain he left on a country and the world for that matter, but do you know what he did before his unthinkable crusade?
Hitler was a “starving” artist in the very sense of the phrase, he never achieved the noteriety he thought was deserved in which the rejection played an important role in deciding his course. His art and architectural drawings are very impressive.
So, Should Hitler be recognized for his art work, for the sake of art appreciation and architectural llustrations, or for what was to follow?
I am by no means an expert on Hitler nor do I condone his deeds, i am asking this from an art appreciation view only. and thank you Mr. Hendy for originally poseing the question.