With darkness falling earlier, I’m now taking my walks shortly after the sun has set. There is a small spot up the road from where I live that I like to drive to for these evening outings, as rarely am I ever disturbed by anyone.

It also helps that there is a small pioneer cemetery tucked back off the main roadway and very few people seem to remember or even know that it is there. And while I don’t usually walk through the hallowed ground, I can skirt it and enjoy it’s quietude all the same.

Hey, sometimes I freak myself out, so I find it much more manly to avoid the scare, then having to explain why I frightened myself.

Last night though was different. I could hear the voices of teen children echoing from someplace inside the cemetery grounds.

Worried that they might be vandalizing the remaining headstones and the still standing wooden markers, I quietly approached the voices. Three young girls were huddled together nervously giggling and talking, and obviously spooked about something.

“Hello,” I called.

They shrieked but remained where they were.

Again I called out, “Are you girls okay?”

“We’re too scared to continue through the cemetery,” one answered back.

“Okay,” I said as I continued towards them, “I’m right here and I’ll help you get out of here.”

As I came into their view they seemed quite relieved and rushed over to me. Each huddled against me as if I might be their great protector of the ‘things that go bump in the night.’

“It’s okay,” I said as I quickly found the narrow trial to the far side of the cemetery.

“Will you walk us the rest of the way home?” one of the girls asked.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I answered.

“Why not?” asked another of the girls.

“Because this is as far as I can go,” I said.

“But we’re scared of the dark,” the third girl pleaded.

“So was I at one time,” I smiled, “Back when I was still alive and not trapped in this cemetery.”

Never had I seen three teens disappear into the night screaming like a trio of wild banshees before, but if you ever get the chance, let me tell you, it is well worth it. Doubt they’ll be visiting that cemetery at night again.

“Christmas falls on a Friday this year,” the Brunette said.
“I sure hope it isn’t on the thirteenth,” responded the Blonde.

At 87 years old, Angelo Whitlow is still a powerfully built man. Known better as Angie or Ange, he is not one given to wasting words so when he told me this story, I sat up and listened intently.

At 87 years old, Angelo Whitlow is still a powerfully built man. Known better as Angie or Ange, he is not one given to wasting words, so when he told me this story, I sat up and listened intently.

“It was my first time hunting by myself,” he said. “Before this day, I used to accompany my dad or one of my uncles, but I never had gone alone.”

At 14, Ange finally got his first hunting license and it was decided that he could go with the men and they’d all go their separate ways. With him, Ange carried a 1903 Springfield, given to him by his father’s eldest Uncle.

“Still have that rifle too,” he said.

As he had learned over the past two deer hunting season, Ange set about finding a game trail and then a quiet place to sit and wait. On that day, he found a fallen log that faced an open field some 200 yards wide, filled with tall grasses and a trail clearly etched through the vegetation.

“After sitting there for was seemed like forever,” Ange said. “I saw movement slightly beyond the trees out in front of me.”

It was a white tail deer.

“I quietly slid the bolt back and slowly moved the rifle around so I could bring it up to my shoulder at a moments notice,” he said. “The deer was so close I was certain I wouldn’t miss, all I was waiting for was a clean shot, with no trees in the way.”

The deer moved slowly and with some caution according to Ange. He was surprise when the head of the animal poke out beyond the trees.

“As it’s head came clear of the trees, I could see a rack of 12-points and then my heart leapt in to my ears making it hard to concentrate. That’s how excited I was,” he said. “But then it looked at me and I was sure the jig was up and he’d go dashing into the woods and I’d be out of luck.”

But then things got weird as the buck stepped out of the trees fully and turned to face the teenager.

“I knew it had seen me,” Angie stated. “But it came out and into the open anyway, and then it turned its body so I couldn’t get a good shot at it and I certainly didn’t want to shoot it between the eyes because I wanted that beautiful set of horns.”

Ange shifted in his seat and sipped at his coffee before continuing.

“It bowed its head twice at me. I thought it might be some sort of challenge and that it might charge me and I would have to shoot it, horns or no horns,” Angelo said. “Then it came straight at me and you know what?”

“What?” I said without thinking, knowing that interrupting an Elder was bad form, not to mention, impolite.

“I froze,” he smiled. “I couldn’t even lift my rifle as all thought drained my head and strength from my body.”

He took a sip of coffee, shook his head and chucked before continuing.

“I sat there, dumbstruck, knowing I was about to be gored, killed, when suddenly the deer dipped his head and raked the tall grass at a dead run,” he said. “That’s when the mountain lion that I didn’t know was stocking me, sprang out of concealment and with a hiss and growl tried to swipe at the deer as it butted it with its horns.”

Still, Angie said, he was frozen in place.

“The two moved clockwise, the buck with its head down and the cat, spitting and hissing,” Ange said. “Till finally that had come a half circle so that the buck was nearer me and the cat was where the buck had been.”

Angelo describes the scene as a ‘Mexican stand-off,’ as the buck and deer challenged one another.

“But it was that cat that blinked first,” Angie said. “Must’ve decided my skin and bones wasn’t worth the fuss. It surrendered, turned and darted off into the woods to the far side of the field. I could see spots of blood on its side and butt from where the buck nailed it.”

The buck stood with its right flank fully exposed and blowing hard, winded from the short battle, according to Ange.

“Then it looked towards me, turned its back on me and with it white tail flashing that danger signal, bounded off in the opposite direction from the cat,” he said. “I finally came to my senses, got up and making sure that cat wasn’t following me, made my way back to the station wagon where I stayed put.”

Angelo didn’t go out for the remainder of the season.

“That was enough excitement for me for that year,” Ange said. “But I never missed the chance to go deer hunting after that again, except during the Korean War when I was drafted and sent overseas to fight for my Uncle Sam.”

ds, so when he told me this story, I sat up and listened intently.

“It was my first time hunting by myself,” he said. “Before this day, I used to accompany my dad or one of my uncles, but I never had gone alone.”

At 14, Ange finally got his first hunting license and it was decided that he could go with the men and they’d all go their separate ways. With him, Ange carried a 1903 Springfield, given to him by his father’s eldest Uncle.

“Still have that rifle too,” he said.

As he had learned over the past two deer hunting season, Ange set about finding a game trail and then a quiet place to sit and wait. On that day, he found a fallen log that faced an open field some 200 yards wide, filled with tall grasses and a trail clearly etched through the vegetation.

“After sitting there for was seemed like forever,” Ange said. “I saw movement slightly beyond the trees out in front of me.”

It was a white tail deer.

“I quietly slid the bolt back and slowly moved the rifle around so I could bring it up to my shoulder at a moments notice,” he said. “The deer was so close I was certain I wouldn’t miss, all I was waiting for was a clean shot, with no trees in the way.”

The deer moved slowly and with some caution according to Ange. He was surprise when the head of the animal poke out beyond the trees.

“As it’s head came clear of the trees, I could see a rack of 12-points and then my heart leapt in to my ears making it hard to concentrate. That’s how excited I was,” he said. “But then it looked at me and I was sure the jig was up and he’d go dashing into the woods and I’d be out of luck.”

But then things got weird as the buck stepped out of the trees fully and turned to face the teenager.

“I knew it had seen me,” Angie stated. “But it came out and into the open anyway, and then it turned its body so I couldn’t get a good shot at it and I certainly didn’t want to shoot it between the eyes because I wanted that beautiful set of horns.”

Ange shifted in his seat and sipped at his coffee before continuing.

“It bowed its head twice at me. I thought it might be some sort of challenge and that it might charge me and I would have to shoot it, horns or no horns,” Angelo said. “Then it came straight at me and you know what?”

“What?” I said without thinking, knowing that interrupting an Elder was bad form, not to mention, impolite.

“I froze,” he smiled. “I couldn’t even lift my rifle as all thought drained my head and strength from my body.”

He took another sip of coffee, shook his head and chucked before going on.

“I sat there, dumbstruck, knowing I was about to be gored, killed, when suddenly the deer dipped his head and raked the tall grass at a dead run,” he said. “That’s when the mountain lion that I didn’t know was stocking me, sprang out of concealment and with a hiss and growl tried to swipe at the deer as it butted it with its horns.”

Still, Angie said, he was frozen in place.

“The two moved clockwise, the buck with its head down and the cat, spitting and hissing,” Ange said. “Till finally that had come a half circle so that the buck was nearer me and the cat was where the buck had been.”

Angelo describes the scene as a ‘Mexican stand-off,’ as the buck and deer challenged one another.

“But it was that cat that blinked first,” Angie said. “Must’ve decided my skin and bones wasn’t worth the fuss. It surrendered, turned and darted off into the woods to the far side of the field. I could see spots of blood on its side and butt from where the buck nailed it.”

The buck stood with its right flank fully exposed and blowing hard, winded from the short battle, according to Ange.

“Then it looked towards me, turned its back on me and with it white tail flashing that danger signal, bounded off in the opposite direction from the cat,” he said. “I finally came to my senses, got up and making sure that cat wasn’t following me, made my way back to the station wagon where I stayed put.”

Angelo didn’t go out for the remainder of the season.

“That was enough excitement for me for that year,” Ange said. “But I never missed the chance to go deer hunting after that again, except during the Korean War when I was drafted and sent overseas to fight for my Uncle Sam.”

If I take ‘YearQuil’ now will I wake up in time for 2021? Asking for a friend.

“And just like that, she was gone.” – Forrest Gump, 1994.

It’s one of the many classic lines that come from that movie. In this case, he’s talking about ‘Jennie,’ the girl, turned woman that Forrest has been in love with all of his life.

It’s also how I’m feeling about writing at this very moment. I’ve spent my morning fighting off the urge to give up on all four news articles that I’ve been working on since last Tuesday.

But as much as I wanted too, I couldn’t walk away from the task at hand, especially with the deadline being this evening at 5 pm. Aargh, though – as I am frustrated.

Between a state agency threatening to shutdown a small business owner that I jus’ interviewed, to not having the last name of an important person for a story, to others being ‘out of town,’ unable to speak on the phone or provide a quote, to a law enforcement agency telling me to ‘check Facebook,’ because that’s ‘all the information we’ve have released,’ and you get the picture.

“And that’s all I have to say about that.”

When I was a kid, we used to have so much toilet paper, we tossed in the trees.

A new poll shows that Biden is leading in every providence in China.

They race from the Left,  trickle from the Right, flow from the Middle. Each and every one screaming that I’m lying, spreading falsehoods and am a poor loser for having posted about the ‘taking of names’ and ‘re-education camps.’ These are nothing more than pandering idiots and Internet trolls attempting to obfuscate what can be seen clearly.

It feels wonderful to be asked, if not lectured, to ‘reach out’ to our neighbors and loved one and talk about anything but politics. That’s exactly what failed Democratic Presidential candidate Pete  Buttigieg tweets.

Isn’t that the sweetest thing ever? But don’t be fooled!

However, Buttigieg’s ‘former’ national surrogates director Emily Abrams wrote something remarkably opposite before her account went private:

 

These are people not to be trusted, and friends and loved ones need to be made aware of how these people are deceivers, even if there is a risk of losing contact with them. Our nation depends on honesty.

Go ahead, keep telling everyone how it is time to heal the nation. We have your number, my patriotic friend.

While you are at it, tell that man or that woman, who for no fault of their own, were subjected to looting, arson and other forms of violence, simply because they owned a business. Explain to the widow or widower and the orphans, whose wife, husband or parent, a law enforcement officer, was murdered because your party believes them to be oppressors.

Tell us how we are to heal knowing that the national media, all the way down to the local media are in the pocket of your fellow politicians. Please explain clearly, how aiding those contributing to social unrest via the corporate broadcast agencies, you so bitterly hate, are going to affect a proper healing or that by social media censoring peoples voices is going to clear the way back to our founding document.

Please, explain how ensuring a woman can have an abortion is a pathway to health or healthcare. Speak up when you address the fact that it is unconstitutional for the federal government, through taxes raised via the American citizen or business, is what is written in our founding documents.

Keep telling the American people that you are on their side. I, for one American, am tired of the pandering and would prefer you simply call me an enemy of the state, a Socialist state and soon to be Communist state, where only a handful of people, leaders as you are so quick to call them, will have power.

As an enemy of the state, I am still free to speak my mind and even up to my quickened death. You on the other hand have forsaken your liberty for the power of a party and you shall die the slow death of a non-person, not to mention a non-patriot.

I am calling you as I see you…a liar and a fraud, and that thief who comes in the middle of the night.

You did not gather 71-million votes, President Trump gathered those 71-million votes. And while, you have enjoyed election cycle after cycle talking about the ‘big tent,’ it is Trump who filled that tent in one cycle.

Trump, though his actions of Making America Great Again, created the most diverse, widest and deepest part of the entire American electorate consisting of every creed, color, race, gender, ethnicity and orientation. It is a truly color-blind coalition of middle America patriots and middle-class voters that cuts through the political special interest groups.

You are the GOP, the Grand Old Party, but we are the new party to behold, the MAGA party, and you did not create us. You need to be very well aware of what you’ve brought to the political arena with you: ‘Republican in Name Only’s’, ‘Never-Trumpers’ and endless pandering to the Democratic Party.

You’ve allowed ‘Deep State’ actors to stay entrenched in their bureaucracy, you’ve failed time and again to halt known corrupt politicians and former politicians, letting them to get away with violating the US Constitution, you let the Democratic party hold sway over the Congress with endless and expensive investigations and hearing, and allowed with very little push back the impeachment of a President, when he had done nothing wrong, while allowing another president to side-step Congress and the Constitution with no negative outcome. We say SHAME ON YOU!

Your days may very well be numbered because we know what you have and have not done for the American peoples.