It's been raining for a couple of days in southeastern Montana. I have been working in the harvest bringing crops in from the field.The ground has been so muddy, that we can't get into the fields, so I have had a couple of very welcome days off. When we finish cutting corn, I will move to the next farm over, and haul Sugar Beets from the field to a receiving station called a Piler. They are digging part of the crop early this year. I am glad that I am not there yet. They dig beets no matter what the weather. When the ground is muddy, they hook tractors on to the front of the trucks, and pull them through the field beside the digger, while it fills them. Very tense, stressful work.
I said I was glad to get a day off. I am pretty sore from driving that truck, because I ordinarily do a lick of real work, work. I mostly sit in front of a computer screen and type, or sit in front of a microphone and read aloud what I have written. - Pretty cush deal when I get work.- Of course I am still working at the radio station part-time, but am branching out into free lance operations too. I have put up a web site, leethevoice.com leethevoice.com It's not finished, but it is there for all the world to see.
Oh, yes, what I started to say. It has been raining. This morning it seems to be clearing. The sun shone between layers of clouds, illuminating the hills and buttes to the south and west. Sure was pretty.
Time to get my shirt and tie on, and go bring the message of love, peace, and forgiveness through The Lord Jesus. Truth be told, of all my activities, that's the one I love the best.
Agape
Lee
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
9-11
Nine years ago I walked in to work at KATL in Miles City. I was still doing production, before I took over the News Director slot. Terry Virag ace salesman, and morning personality, was in the control room. "Did you hear? They've bombed the World Trade Center in New York!"
Someone had brought in a television. It was showing the chaos in the streets and smoke and flames pouring from the burning building. In unbelief, I, and millions of people around the world watched as the second airplane hit the second tower. I will never forget that day. It is burned into my memory as with a hot iron.
I will never forget those thousands of innocent people murdered by cowardly animals who in spite of the lies they've been fed by insane leaders, are burning in Hell at this very moment. May it always be so.
I will never forget those firefighters and police officers who gave their lives in service to their city, their state, their nation, and their fellow man. Those are the heroes. Those and the thousands of those who stand ready to protect us from fire, flood, pestilence, and evil doers, both foreign and domestic. You are those to whom I stand, humbly tip my hat, and say, Thank you. I will never forget.
Agape
Lee
Someone had brought in a television. It was showing the chaos in the streets and smoke and flames pouring from the burning building. In unbelief, I, and millions of people around the world watched as the second airplane hit the second tower. I will never forget that day. It is burned into my memory as with a hot iron.
I will never forget those thousands of innocent people murdered by cowardly animals who in spite of the lies they've been fed by insane leaders, are burning in Hell at this very moment. May it always be so.
I will never forget those firefighters and police officers who gave their lives in service to their city, their state, their nation, and their fellow man. Those are the heroes. Those and the thousands of those who stand ready to protect us from fire, flood, pestilence, and evil doers, both foreign and domestic. You are those to whom I stand, humbly tip my hat, and say, Thank you. I will never forget.
Agape
Lee
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Chickens
I finished building the chicken pen Tuesday morning. What a task! It's not much of a pen, but then, I'm not much of a carpenter. I finally got it pretty straight, and the wire all on. In the end, it doesn't look too bad.
About a month ago, I bought two little Bantam hens from a friend. They came in a small coop about 2' by 3', so I decided to build a yard for them.
I bought a dozen eight foot 2X4s, some one inch mesh chicken wire, and some nails. I kept splitting out the 2X4s, so I bought some self tapping screws. They work much better, and my Makita power driver spins them in nicely.
Then I ran out of 2X4s, so I bought two dozen more. Then ran out of screws, so had to buy more. I did think that time to get some small ones as well, to attach the roof. Of course all these purchases involved separate trips to town, about 20 miles away, and mostly in the pickup, which drinks three dollar plus per gallon gasoline at an amazing rate.
I haven't done a lick of work since I quit driving truck, and my hands were sore, but I finished the 8' by 8' pen. It has two 4'X8' sheets of plywood for the roof. The plywood came from the last election campaign of a former US Senator from Montana. So now every airplane passing over can see that my chickens are "Friends of Conrad Burns." While I may not be, my chickens are good Republicans..
I created a place for the little coop to attach to the yard, and pulled the chicken wire off of it, creating a door for them to go in and out. There is a crossbar about halfway up the now open doorway, that now serves as a perch.
The birds were pretty leery about leaving the confines of their pen. They had never been out of it in their lives. I removed their waterer the night before, and that morning, after everything was ready, at about 8:30, I put it in the yard. I scattered some wheat in the yard, and called them, as I always do when I feed them. They were a little hesitant, but stuck their heads out and looked around.
I went back to the house, which is about 20 - 25 feet away, sat on the porch, and watched them. Pretty soon they ventured timidly out into the yard, necks stretched straight up, looking in all directions. They stretched their wings out fully, and headed for the waterer.
After a good drink, and pecking at the food, they discovered that they were not in their little enclosure, and fled back.
After a few minutes, one went out into the yard and began to peck at the seeds. The other hopped up on the crossbar in the doorway, and launched herself out. She spread her wings, flapped mightily, and flew!
It was a beautiful sight. First, the birds who had never had enough room to do so, spread their wings out fully. Then, for the first time in her life, that little Banty hen flew! It almost brought tears to my eyes.
"Free at last
Free at last
Thank God almighty
I'm free at last."
I like chickens. I like to watch them. They are sentient beings you know. They have a language, and carry on conversations. They also sing. When I was little, our mother raised chickens. Thousands of them. I discovered then that they sing. They sing different songs, and often repeat them. Not only that, they sing in harmony. The songs are often very complex, and sometimes take many minutes to complete. As a musician, I recognized the music they create.
So now, I feed the chickens and watch and listen to them. It's very pleasant, and the sense of accomplishment in finishing the chicken yard is very satisfying as well.
Agape.
Lee
About a month ago, I bought two little Bantam hens from a friend. They came in a small coop about 2' by 3', so I decided to build a yard for them.
I bought a dozen eight foot 2X4s, some one inch mesh chicken wire, and some nails. I kept splitting out the 2X4s, so I bought some self tapping screws. They work much better, and my Makita power driver spins them in nicely.
Then I ran out of 2X4s, so I bought two dozen more. Then ran out of screws, so had to buy more. I did think that time to get some small ones as well, to attach the roof. Of course all these purchases involved separate trips to town, about 20 miles away, and mostly in the pickup, which drinks three dollar plus per gallon gasoline at an amazing rate.
I haven't done a lick of work since I quit driving truck, and my hands were sore, but I finished the 8' by 8' pen. It has two 4'X8' sheets of plywood for the roof. The plywood came from the last election campaign of a former US Senator from Montana. So now every airplane passing over can see that my chickens are "Friends of Conrad Burns." While I may not be, my chickens are good Republicans..
I created a place for the little coop to attach to the yard, and pulled the chicken wire off of it, creating a door for them to go in and out. There is a crossbar about halfway up the now open doorway, that now serves as a perch.
The birds were pretty leery about leaving the confines of their pen. They had never been out of it in their lives. I removed their waterer the night before, and that morning, after everything was ready, at about 8:30, I put it in the yard. I scattered some wheat in the yard, and called them, as I always do when I feed them. They were a little hesitant, but stuck their heads out and looked around.
I went back to the house, which is about 20 - 25 feet away, sat on the porch, and watched them. Pretty soon they ventured timidly out into the yard, necks stretched straight up, looking in all directions. They stretched their wings out fully, and headed for the waterer.
After a good drink, and pecking at the food, they discovered that they were not in their little enclosure, and fled back.
After a few minutes, one went out into the yard and began to peck at the seeds. The other hopped up on the crossbar in the doorway, and launched herself out. She spread her wings, flapped mightily, and flew!
It was a beautiful sight. First, the birds who had never had enough room to do so, spread their wings out fully. Then, for the first time in her life, that little Banty hen flew! It almost brought tears to my eyes.
"Free at last
Free at last
Thank God almighty
I'm free at last."
I like chickens. I like to watch them. They are sentient beings you know. They have a language, and carry on conversations. They also sing. When I was little, our mother raised chickens. Thousands of them. I discovered then that they sing. They sing different songs, and often repeat them. Not only that, they sing in harmony. The songs are often very complex, and sometimes take many minutes to complete. As a musician, I recognized the music they create.
So now, I feed the chickens and watch and listen to them. It's very pleasant, and the sense of accomplishment in finishing the chicken yard is very satisfying as well.
Agape.
Lee
Friday, August 6, 2010
The View Off My Porch
I ate breakfast on the porch this morning, as I nearly always do when the weather permits. The Kinsey area of the Yellowstone Valley is covered with tall corn, and green Alfalfa, Pinto Beans, Sugar Beets, and Potatoes all nearing harvest. It is a beautiful sight. Down the road, one of the neighbors is getting his second cutting of Alfalfa started, and a little farther down there is a stand of grain ready to be harvested. My few chickens cluck happily in their soon to be enlarged pen. We are truly blessed to live in a place where we can witness the bounty of a fruitful nation.
I have always loved the great national hymn "America The Beautiful."
Oh beautiful far spacious skies
Oer amber waves of grain
Oer purple mountains majesty
Above the fruited plain
America, America,
God shed his grace on thee
And crowned thy good
With brotherhood
From sea to shining sea.
Of course we still have to work on that "brotherhood" part, but we're working on it. That is something I'll reserve for another blog.
I am proud of my agricultural roots. I'm happy to be a witness to, and a part of, the system that feeds our nation, and an otherwise starving world. I work in the harvest hauling cut corn to a silo for silage to feed cattle through the winter, so that you can have a delicious steak for dinner. I also haul Sugar Beets from the field to a marshaling station called a "piler," so you can have sugar in your coffee or to pour on your American grown cereal.
All of this costs money. The farmer has to plow, buy seed, plant, cultivate, water, and harvest his crop. He has to pay me, and others like me to help in the harvest. He has to buy and maintain terribly expensive machinery, and buy terribly expensive fuel for those machines.
Then he is dependent upon a bunch of gamblers in the commodities market to tell him how much he will get for his crop. In the end, he barely has enough to cover the loans (with big interest) to pay for all of the above, and feed his family. Farmer's daughters and sons like pretty clothes, and cell phones just like the offspring of "townies." whose parents work for wages, and pretty well know how much they will be getting at the end of the year.
But you know what? the vast majority of us wouldn't have it any other way. I was reared on a cattle ranch. Dad had to work an outside job just to keep the three of us fed and clothed. He hated that, but knew that it was necessary to the operation of the ranch. Besides, girls object to wearing flour sack dresses to the junior prom. And have you seen the price of shoes?
My Dad, and my Mother at his side, would have no more left the ranch than cut off their arm. That land is a part of them as much as they are a part of that land.
Dad's gone on now, but Mama is still on the ranch, and when it's time for her to leave, her body will be buried alongside his on the land they loved. The land they nurtured, preserved, and from which they fed our nation, and an otherwise starving world.
So I just want to ask you to join me, as I sit and enjoy the view off my porch, to pray a prayer of thanksgiving and protection for those engaged in agriculture. From sea to shining sea.
God bless our farmers and ranchers.
Agape
Lee
I have always loved the great national hymn "America The Beautiful."
Oh beautiful far spacious skies
Oer amber waves of grain
Oer purple mountains majesty
Above the fruited plain
America, America,
God shed his grace on thee
And crowned thy good
With brotherhood
From sea to shining sea.
Of course we still have to work on that "brotherhood" part, but we're working on it. That is something I'll reserve for another blog.
I am proud of my agricultural roots. I'm happy to be a witness to, and a part of, the system that feeds our nation, and an otherwise starving world. I work in the harvest hauling cut corn to a silo for silage to feed cattle through the winter, so that you can have a delicious steak for dinner. I also haul Sugar Beets from the field to a marshaling station called a "piler," so you can have sugar in your coffee or to pour on your American grown cereal.
All of this costs money. The farmer has to plow, buy seed, plant, cultivate, water, and harvest his crop. He has to pay me, and others like me to help in the harvest. He has to buy and maintain terribly expensive machinery, and buy terribly expensive fuel for those machines.
Then he is dependent upon a bunch of gamblers in the commodities market to tell him how much he will get for his crop. In the end, he barely has enough to cover the loans (with big interest) to pay for all of the above, and feed his family. Farmer's daughters and sons like pretty clothes, and cell phones just like the offspring of "townies." whose parents work for wages, and pretty well know how much they will be getting at the end of the year.
But you know what? the vast majority of us wouldn't have it any other way. I was reared on a cattle ranch. Dad had to work an outside job just to keep the three of us fed and clothed. He hated that, but knew that it was necessary to the operation of the ranch. Besides, girls object to wearing flour sack dresses to the junior prom. And have you seen the price of shoes?
My Dad, and my Mother at his side, would have no more left the ranch than cut off their arm. That land is a part of them as much as they are a part of that land.
Dad's gone on now, but Mama is still on the ranch, and when it's time for her to leave, her body will be buried alongside his on the land they loved. The land they nurtured, preserved, and from which they fed our nation, and an otherwise starving world.
So I just want to ask you to join me, as I sit and enjoy the view off my porch, to pray a prayer of thanksgiving and protection for those engaged in agriculture. From sea to shining sea.
God bless our farmers and ranchers.
Agape
Lee
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Paranoia? Or Well Founded Caution.
There is a general sense of unease in our country today. More and more, people are living in fear. Rumors fly, and are believed by many.
Case in point. An Internet story recently got transmitted that a large Mexican gang had taken over two small ranches near Laredo Texas. Now, this gang, who are really dangerous people, have struck fear in the hearts of thousands in both Mexico, and the southwestern portion of the US.
I received the story, which was presented by a quasi-legitimate news agency, and passed it via e-mail to a friend who, like me, is retired from a legitimate and well respected agency in the news business. I say quasi-legitimate, because it is an Internet based agency, and it's credentials are as questionable as anyone who invents a name, and starts posting "news" on the net.
My friend, who has been my mentor in the business, takes a pretty jaded look at news stories, looked at it with his jaundiced eye, and wrote back that he didn't think the story was true. I wrote back, and rattled off a brief history of this gang, which in reality, is a very large paramilitary organization, and thanked him for his input.
Over the next few days, the story grew larger and larger. Finally, another friend, who is a noted author, made some telephone calls to several of the proper authorities, and found out that while the law enforcement people do indeed have serious problems, this case was false. End of story.
I was much relieved, and e-mailed my mentor the results. He wrote back and kindly reminded me to check my sources. At least I didn't post the story on the web, but transmitted it to him in an e-mail letter.
As I said in the beginning of this message, there is a general sense of unease in our country today. I lived for some years in towns along the Mexican border, and know first hand of the dangers there. On one hand you have the narco-traffickers, and on the other, you have the law enforcement people. along the fringes, are folk living a pretty hardscrabble life, who live by any means they can, most of which, are either illegal, or immoral. Caught in the middle of this chaos, are regular people. Citizens of the United States, of America, and The Republic of Mexico. People who live their lives, rear their children, and work to support the local economy. Even among these, there is the uneasiness of living in a war zone. There too, rumors fly. Some well founded, some not.
In these end times in which we live, everyone is affected by the fear and paranoia around us. Some merely hide their head in the sand, some get caught up in it, and others, just say, "Oh, bulls--t!, and get on with their lives. I really wish that I could be like the latter. Unfortunately, my previous life has left me pretty emotionally scarred. I like many, get too caught up in this world in which we live, rather than remembering that I am a spiritual being, temporarily living in a very flawed body, as we all are.
There is a prayer that I learned many years ago. I often recite it almost like a mantra. It goes:
"God
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen."
Thank God for wise council.
Agape
Lee
Case in point. An Internet story recently got transmitted that a large Mexican gang had taken over two small ranches near Laredo Texas. Now, this gang, who are really dangerous people, have struck fear in the hearts of thousands in both Mexico, and the southwestern portion of the US.
I received the story, which was presented by a quasi-legitimate news agency, and passed it via e-mail to a friend who, like me, is retired from a legitimate and well respected agency in the news business. I say quasi-legitimate, because it is an Internet based agency, and it's credentials are as questionable as anyone who invents a name, and starts posting "news" on the net.
My friend, who has been my mentor in the business, takes a pretty jaded look at news stories, looked at it with his jaundiced eye, and wrote back that he didn't think the story was true. I wrote back, and rattled off a brief history of this gang, which in reality, is a very large paramilitary organization, and thanked him for his input.
Over the next few days, the story grew larger and larger. Finally, another friend, who is a noted author, made some telephone calls to several of the proper authorities, and found out that while the law enforcement people do indeed have serious problems, this case was false. End of story.
I was much relieved, and e-mailed my mentor the results. He wrote back and kindly reminded me to check my sources. At least I didn't post the story on the web, but transmitted it to him in an e-mail letter.
As I said in the beginning of this message, there is a general sense of unease in our country today. I lived for some years in towns along the Mexican border, and know first hand of the dangers there. On one hand you have the narco-traffickers, and on the other, you have the law enforcement people. along the fringes, are folk living a pretty hardscrabble life, who live by any means they can, most of which, are either illegal, or immoral. Caught in the middle of this chaos, are regular people. Citizens of the United States, of America, and The Republic of Mexico. People who live their lives, rear their children, and work to support the local economy. Even among these, there is the uneasiness of living in a war zone. There too, rumors fly. Some well founded, some not.
In these end times in which we live, everyone is affected by the fear and paranoia around us. Some merely hide their head in the sand, some get caught up in it, and others, just say, "Oh, bulls--t!, and get on with their lives. I really wish that I could be like the latter. Unfortunately, my previous life has left me pretty emotionally scarred. I like many, get too caught up in this world in which we live, rather than remembering that I am a spiritual being, temporarily living in a very flawed body, as we all are.
There is a prayer that I learned many years ago. I often recite it almost like a mantra. It goes:
"God
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen."
Thank God for wise council.
Agape
Lee
Friday, July 23, 2010
Some Thoughts On Elections
There is a movement encouraging people to vote against incumbents. Probably better in the primary elections, but in the upcoming general voting, it couldn't hurt either. And not just this election, every election. We-The-People must regain control of our government. Either that, or start learning "The International."
Dear hearts, We are in serious trouble here. If we don't take action, the America that we know will soon be a page in history.
We must not allow political parties to control us. As I see it, they have abrogated the constitution, and thrown up smoke screens that have blinded us to what is really going on. The take an issue, blow it out of proportion, and use it to mask a much darker agenda. For instance, this this imaginary conversation:
Person #1. "He's a Totalitarian."
Person #2. "But he's against abortion."
Or on the other side of the aisle:
Person #1. "He's a Totalitarian."
Person #2. "But he's for open immigration."
See, the smokescreen is not merely from one party, but from every party. There are brilliant people who study for years on how to manipulate people. My thought is, cut through the smoke and mirrors, and get to the root of the problem. Public servants who do not serve We-The-People.
I have a friend who is in office. I am going to vote against him. (I'm not naming names or political affiliations here) If he loses, a member of the other party will get in. My friend is doing a fairly good job, but out you go.
Our federal employees, and that is what the leaders of our nation are, our employees, have chosen not to implement term limits. Time to implement term limits of our own. One term, then out you go.
It is my opinion, and after all, that's what this blog is, that we need to vote against all incumbents, in every election.
Dear hearts, We are in serious trouble here. If we don't take action, the America that we know will soon be a page in history.
We must not allow political parties to control us. As I see it, they have abrogated the constitution, and thrown up smoke screens that have blinded us to what is really going on. The take an issue, blow it out of proportion, and use it to mask a much darker agenda. For instance, this this imaginary conversation:
Person #1. "He's a Totalitarian."
Person #2. "But he's against abortion."
Or on the other side of the aisle:
Person #1. "He's a Totalitarian."
Person #2. "But he's for open immigration."
See, the smokescreen is not merely from one party, but from every party. There are brilliant people who study for years on how to manipulate people. My thought is, cut through the smoke and mirrors, and get to the root of the problem. Public servants who do not serve We-The-People.
I have a friend who is in office. I am going to vote against him. (I'm not naming names or political affiliations here) If he loses, a member of the other party will get in. My friend is doing a fairly good job, but out you go.
Our federal employees, and that is what the leaders of our nation are, our employees, have chosen not to implement term limits. Time to implement term limits of our own. One term, then out you go.
It is my opinion, and after all, that's what this blog is, that we need to vote against all incumbents, in every election.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
The Mohammed Story
The Mohammed Story
President Obama dies and finds himself before the Pearly Gates.
He is very excited; all his life he's had a secret wish & longed to meet the Prophet Mohammed.
Having arrived at the Gates of Heaven, Barrack meets a man with a beard. 'Are you Mohammed?' he asks.
'No, my son. I am Peter. Mohammed is higher up.' Peter then points to a ladder that rises into the clouds.
Delighted that Mohammed should be higher than Peter, Obama climbs the ladder in great strides, climbs through the clouds and, coming to another room, he meets another bearded man.
He asks again, 'Are you Mohammed?
'No, I am Moses. Mohammed is higher still.'
Exhausted, but with a heart full of joy he climbs the ladder yet again.
He discovers an even larger room where he meets another man with a beard. Full of hope, he asks again, 'Are you Mohammed?
'No, I am Jesus... You will find Mohammed higher up.'
Mohammed higher than Jesus! Wow! Obama can hardly contain his delight and climbs and climbs, ever higher.
Once again, he reaches an even larger room where he meets a man with a beard and repeats his question: 'Are you Mohammed?...' as he gasps. Totally out of breath from all his climbing.
'No, my son.... I am Almighty God. But you look exhausted. Would you like a cup of coffee..?'
'Yes! Please, my Lord'
God looks behind him, claps his hands and yells out: 'Hey Mohammed-- two coffees!'
When I first read this, I laughed. So human. Putting things and people down... Laughing at their situations. Yet, it came to me, that the Mohammed of the story, has a very high position. A slave in the house of God. The personal servant of The Lord God of the Universe. How wonderful it must be to be able to bring a cup of coffee to God. To merely be in His presence.
You know, I have committed grievous sins. Even after coming to Jesus. The only thing that keeps me going sometimes is the certain knowledge that I am going to heaven. I might be a lowly menial servant, but I will be in the presence of God. Imagine! Even being allowed to sleep on the floor of God’s palace! To be allowed to serve him a cup of coffee! Merely to be in His Presence. To know that even though I fall short of the (often self-set) mark here, I will gain my heavenly reward.
That humbling thought sustains me. Thank you Jesus.
Agape
Lee
President Obama dies and finds himself before the Pearly Gates.
He is very excited; all his life he's had a secret wish & longed to meet the Prophet Mohammed.
Having arrived at the Gates of Heaven, Barrack meets a man with a beard. 'Are you Mohammed?' he asks.
'No, my son. I am Peter. Mohammed is higher up.' Peter then points to a ladder that rises into the clouds.
Delighted that Mohammed should be higher than Peter, Obama climbs the ladder in great strides, climbs through the clouds and, coming to another room, he meets another bearded man.
He asks again, 'Are you Mohammed?
'No, I am Moses. Mohammed is higher still.'
Exhausted, but with a heart full of joy he climbs the ladder yet again.
He discovers an even larger room where he meets another man with a beard. Full of hope, he asks again, 'Are you Mohammed?
'No, I am Jesus... You will find Mohammed higher up.'
Mohammed higher than Jesus! Wow! Obama can hardly contain his delight and climbs and climbs, ever higher.
Once again, he reaches an even larger room where he meets a man with a beard and repeats his question: 'Are you Mohammed?...' as he gasps. Totally out of breath from all his climbing.
'No, my son.... I am Almighty God. But you look exhausted. Would you like a cup of coffee..?'
'Yes! Please, my Lord'
God looks behind him, claps his hands and yells out: 'Hey Mohammed-- two coffees!'
When I first read this, I laughed. So human. Putting things and people down... Laughing at their situations. Yet, it came to me, that the Mohammed of the story, has a very high position. A slave in the house of God. The personal servant of The Lord God of the Universe. How wonderful it must be to be able to bring a cup of coffee to God. To merely be in His presence.
You know, I have committed grievous sins. Even after coming to Jesus. The only thing that keeps me going sometimes is the certain knowledge that I am going to heaven. I might be a lowly menial servant, but I will be in the presence of God. Imagine! Even being allowed to sleep on the floor of God’s palace! To be allowed to serve him a cup of coffee! Merely to be in His Presence. To know that even though I fall short of the (often self-set) mark here, I will gain my heavenly reward.
That humbling thought sustains me. Thank you Jesus.
Agape
Lee
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