To the woman in the red car that sat in front of me in the drive-through line:

As is ever the case in our small town, the employees inside the fast food chain restaurant moved slower than molasses, and I had a while to look around at the world outside my car.  Your red car happened to be the one in line directly in front of me, and I had the occasion to read your window stickers.  “Ass Kickin’ Redneck Bitch”, and the other one, made up of the superman logo with the word “Bitch” beneath it.  The first time I saw them, I just rolled my eyes, because I generally dislike the large majority of window and bumper stickers that adorn cars in our corner of the world.  But as time went on, and I continued to sit there in line, I found myself contemplating those two statements, “Super Bitch” and “Ass Kickin’ Redneck Bitch”.  I suddenly realized, that if I were given the chance, I had a question I wanted to ask you.

When did being a bitch become something to be proud of?

I remember many years ago, probably some time around the time that I was in junior high, and I first really became aware of that word.  It was a taboo word, not just forbidden due to the strict nature of my family, but a word that carried meaning.  It was an awful word that was used to describe someone that was a horrible person.  To be called “the B word” was a slight against a person’s character.  It meant that you were mean, or manipulative, or just generally a bad person.  It was a word that was never really spoken aloud, used in almost whisper tones, as if the weight that it carried was too much to speak of.  It was something to be ashamed of, to be called that name.

And yet, now, many women proudly claim it for themselves.  They are proud of the fact that they are a “bitch”.  They are proud to be rude, or offensive, or argumentative.  They buy t-shirts, and bumper stickers, and key chains to proclaim their status to the world.

Dear woman in that red car, let me tell you a story, if you will.  The other day a young couple with two small children came into the church office to meet with the preacher.  As the parents headed back into his office, the mother turned and told her children (a 4 year old girl and a 7 year old boy) to sit down quietly and color.  I braced myself for having to babysit these kids, but they immediately sat down with some crayons and some blank paper and began to draw pictures.  The meeting went on longer than was expected, and after about 30 minutes or so, the young girl began to get restless.  She stood up, walked over to my desk, and handed me the picture she had been drawing, telling me that it was for me.  She then proceeded to quietly walk around the office reception area, talking to herself as she examined the wall of crosses, the pictures of Jesus, and any other thing that caught her eye.  She touched nothing, caused no disruption, just talked to herself as she walked.  Her mother, hearing the young girl talking, came out to tell her to sit back down and color and please be quiet.

Now, red-car lady, this is the part I wanted to emphasize to you.  The young girl sat back down and simply said “yes ma’am” and began to color again.  She said “yes ma’am”.  My jaw hit the floor.  I had not seen that happen in so long, that I honestly cannot remember the last time.

Let us travel again for a moment, if you will, back to when I was a kid.  We were raised to say “yes ma’am” and “yes sir”.  We were raised to call adults by Mr. Smith or Miss Smith.  If an adult insisted that we use their first name, we were to call them Mr. John or Miss Nancy.  We were taught to respect authority, elders, teachers, police officers, and pastors.  We were taught that common courtesy and respect were cornerstones to being a good citizen.  We were actually given “Good Citizen” awards in school for being a nice person.  Good behavior, courtesy, and respect were actually traits that were celebrated.

This brings me back to my question for you.  When did being a bitch become something to be proud of?  And why?  For heaven’s sake, why?

Two very vivid pictures remain in my head.  The red car in front of me in the drive through.  The young girl, in her pink dress, saying “yes ma’am”.  I am a grown woman now, and yet I am still in the process of growing up.  Every day I find myself faced with a choice of the kind of person I want to be.

The red car in front of me.

The young girl in the pink dress.

Who will I choose to be each day?  Will I continue to strive to be a good person, to be nice?  Will I continue to show respect to those in authority?  Most importantly, will I continue to be PROUD to be a nice person?

Yes ma’am, I will.

Sincerely,

~ifer

Last week was a bad week for me in the blogging world.  I felt no motivation to write, so I ended up the week with just one entry.  I cannot remember the last time when I felt that apathetic about writing something.   And actually, that apathy (or is it lethargy) carried over into my reading, although in that case I blame the book I was working on.

For the first time this year, I gave up on a book, my friends.  I was trying to read Gulliver’s Travels, and I just couldn’t get into it at all.  I actually made it halfway through the book, and was still forcing myself to even pick up the Kindle.  When I would pick it up, I would read for about 10 minutes, and then put it back down again to watch some tv, play a computer game, or just generally stare off into the distance. Now, you need to understand that I HATE quitting in the middle of a book.  I will read a book that I generally don’t like just to have that sense of accomplishment when I finish it.  But this time, I just couldn’t keep going, not if I was going to remain in my reading groove at all.

And yeah… commenting? That kind of went out the window last week too.  I found myself sitting there, reading everyone’s blogs, and just not feeling that I had the energy to comment with any intelligence.

The odd part is that outside of the reading/writing/blogging realm? Last week was a good week, and we had a great weekend.  I wasn’t in a down mood at all, I just couldn’t find the motivation for words.

I am back in the game now though, folks.  I am going to be catching up on your blogs, and getting back into the reading challenge.

Oh! And speaking of challenges… I think I am going to try the Project 365 next year.  That is the one where you take a picture every day for the entire year.  I thought about adding it this year, just going from now until next March, but honestly, with the reading challenge, and all the other stuff that goes on in my life right now, I just don’t have the time to add in the pressure of another commitment like that, so next year it is.

So… how were your weeks? Your weekends?

Ok, one final post about Fredericksburg, although this is more a post of random thoughts and images that we saw there…

First, let me start by saying again that the museum was phenomenal, and they obviously spent a lot of money putting this thing together… however…

There was one moment of epic fail in there.  Around the top of the first part of the exhibit, there is a timeline showing the events leading up to and explaining the initial conflict between the Japanese and the Chinese.  Near the beginning of the timeline is this date…

Now, from the small picture, you cannot really see the failure that this is… please.. take a moment and click on the picture and look at the enlarged version.

Back?  Ok… apparently, someone screwed up, and they never took the time to go back and fix it properly.  I guess they were hoping nobody would notice, but come on, how do you not notice that?   Also, what you can’t really see in this picture is that the “5″ they put up on the timeline has a slightly different sheen than the rest of the numbers.  That was initially what caught my eye.

Next up, a genuine, honest-to-God, “What the Hell” flag…

The story of this flag goes back to the story of the Sino American Cooperative Organization (SACO).  It was a group of Chinese and American soldiers working together behind the lines in China to basically attack Japan from another front, and to help defend the Chinese.  The history of this particular flag is pretty interesting.

As found in the Military Postal History Society: “As a junior officer aboard the USS Wickes in 1934, Milton Miles often found a ship making an unexpected move during tight fleet maneuvers and had an urge to send a pennant up the mast asking, ‘What the hell?’.  In order to create a flag without the use of obscenities, Miles and his wife, Wilma, devised a series of question marks, exclamation points, and asterisks (the universal substitute for an obscene word) for the large pennant.  Actually used in his pre-war days, the homemade pennant was adopted as the unofficial flag for Naval Group-Chine teams and copies often flew off the flagpoles of several SACO camps including the Happy Valley HQ compound.  The Chief taking his cue, surely must have more than once during his China tour exclaimed the SACO motto; “What the Hell!”.”

The funny part to me is that when we were in the museum, I saw the flag, pointed it out to Mike, and laughingly said “look, its a WTF flag”.  Only after taking this picture did I actually read the little plaque and see that I was actually very close to the correct meaning of the flag.

Finally, Mike and I actually remembered this time to take pictures of ourselves on our trip.  Neither of us is exactly camera-shy, we just usually don’t think to take pictures of ourselves, opting instead for lots of pictures of our surroundings.  But we were disciplined this time:

My sweet husband, standing outside in the memorial courtyard:

And here I am, inside the museum, near the end of our tour:

(I apologize for the wild crazy hair, it was really windy outside that day)

So there you have it, the pictures are done, the story is done… tomorrow I will be back to my normal blogging.

(or maybe I will actually get back on track and write a few book reviews!)

I wanted to go ahead and finish up our tour of Fredericksburg today, so let me tell you about the War Museum. After we left the Japanese Peace Garden, we walked back across the courtyard, and came to the front of the Museum. The official name of the museum was the National Museum of the Pacific War, and the inside exhibits were housed in the George H.W. Bush Gallery. For those of you who don’t know, President Bush, Sr. was one of several of U.S. Presidents that served in World War II. In fact, just outside of the entrance to the museum itself sits the Presidential Plaza, a small circular courtyard with statuesque plaques for each of the US Presidents that served. In today’s slideshow, you can see the plaque that is there for George Bush, Sr.

Finally, we are ready to enter the museum. I would like to say upfront that I was more impressed by this museum than I have been by any in a long time. They recently reopened the museum after serious upgrading and renovation, and you can tell that they put love and money into it. As you can see by the pictures below, they have several real airplanes, including a bomber, and a Wildcat, tanks, artillery, a replica of the bomb that was dropped in Japan, and even a Japanese floating plane. What also makes this museum unique is that they devote the entirety of the place to the Pacific War. Other than a brief mention of Hitler at the beginning of the tour, there is no mention of the war in Europe.

Also, the museum is laid out chronologically, starting many years before the War began, with an explanation of the situation between Japan and China. In a very organized manner, you walk through the exhibits, and it leads you through the war, with a station for each of the major conflicts. At each station, there is a box with six buttons on it, and beside each button is the name of a WWII veteran. If you push the buttons, you can hear those veterans, in their own voice, give a brief memory of that station’s battle. It is an amazing chance to hear the war memories from the people that were there. Much like the Memorial Wall outside, we simply didn’t have enough time to listen to each memory, but I would love to go back someday and hear them.

If you watch the slideshow, you will see a slightly blurry bluish picture of a submarine in a room. Just to give you an example of the quality of their exhibits, you come to a place in the museum where you have to wait for a show exhibit to finish before you can continue. When it is ready, doors open in front of you, and you walk into that room with the submarine. After a few seconds, the doors close behind you. The room is very dark, with a bluish light that shines on the submarine, the floors and the walls. It covers them with a swirling pattern, and you really feel as though you are underwater, looking at this submarine. It was a bit overwhelming to me, as I am a little phobic about underwater things (cannot even bring myself to watch the Abyss!), but it was effective. The wall behind the submarine is a projector screen, and as the show continues, you see brief videos of the battle. There is one part of the show where the screen goes black, except for large depth charges that drop from the ceiling. As they reach the sub, flashes of lights go off, and I swear, I could almost feel the room shake with the force of the “explosions”. Like I said, very overwhelming and effective.

When we first bought our tickets, they told us it would take 3 hours to go through the museum, and I laughingly told Mike “they don’t know us very well”. We are not generally a “stop and read every exhibit plaque” kind of couple. But in this case, I think they underestimated the power of the story that was being told. All in all, we spent about an hour and a half in just this museum, and I could have spent many more. I would have loved to have had the time and energy to stop at each battle, listen to all the stories, watch all the presentations, but we just didn’t. Not this time, but I am sure we will be back.

So there you have it, my friends… our tour of Fredericksburg.

I have a few more pictures I want to show to you, but they are random, goofy pictures, and each picture has its own story, so I think I will write that post sometime this weekend, or maybe Monday. But if you stay tuned, you might actually get to see that elusive creature that I have been promising since I started this blog… updated pictures of me and Mike! Also as a teaser for the next post… you will see epic fail in someone’s knowledge of history, how I picked the most inappropriate place to take a happy, smiley picture, and an honest-to-God “What the Hell” flag that was used during the war.

To continue the story about the town of Fredericksburg…

Fredericksburg is the birthplace of Admiral Chester Nimitz (and if you don’t know who that was, shame on you for not paying attention in history, go google it now!), and they are very proud of their native son.  There is a Nimitz museum housed in an old hotel building that his father (I think maybe it was his grandfather) had founded and owned from the founding of the town in the 1860’s.  I took a picture of the hotel, but for some reason, it didn’t turn out.

After you complete your tour of the Nimitz museum, you walk outside along a pathway that will eventually lead us to the Museum of the Pacific War (more on that in tomorrow’s post).  But just before you get to the Pacific War Museum, you pass through a huge courtyard surrounded by a stone wall that probably stands 4.5 to 5 foot tall.  This is the memorial wall that Admiral Nimitz requested be built behind the hotel building, a place to honor the men, women, units, and ships that served in the Pacific War with him.   As you can see in the slideshow coming up, this place has the feel of the Vietnam Memorial in many ways.  There is a plaque for each unit, a plaque for each ship (stating when it was commissioned, decommissioned, when and if it was sunk, how many crew died during the war, etc).  There are also individual plaques for many of the men and women that died during the war.  The pathway that leads you around the courtyard is made of bricks that carry the names of the individual service men.  At the far end of the courtyard is a beautiful fountain, made from some sort of screw from an aircraft carrier (I can’t remember the exact name of the piece).

It was a very moving place to be, in that courtyard, surrounded by the names and faces of so many heroes of our past, literally walking on a path paved by their deeds.  If I lived closer to that town, I would go back there often, and someday I would read every one of those plaques.  Because the truth is, time did not permit us to read each and every one, and that left me feeling like I was doing a disservice to these people.  They deserved to have me stop and read their plaques, every single one of them.

At the far end of the courtyard, off to the side, there stands an opening with a wooden gate.  This leads us to the Japanese Peace Garden.  To understand the full meaning and impact of this garden, you need to know a bit more history.  Admiral Heihachirô Togo was one of Japan’s greatest naval admirals (I originally thought he fought during WWII, but further research taught me that he lived much earlier, and died in 1934), and he was greatly admired by Admiral Nimitz.

After World War II, Admiral Nimitz helped to spearhead a movement to save admiral Togo’s flagship in order to preserve it as a museum.  He published an article in the Japanese magazine Bungei Shunju saying, “I do hope that appropriate measures will be taken for the ship, so that the accomplishments of Admiral Togo, whom Sailors all over the world admire, can be remembered.”  The payment he received for writing the article became the first donation to the Admiral Togo memorial fund, and thus started a movement that saved the famed ship. (Reference: Navy News Stand).

Now, this action, his donation to the memorial fund, greatly moved the Japanese people.  It was a honorable act, and one not really expected from the American victors of the War.  In honor of this act, the Japanese people donated a sum of money to Fredericksburg to build a Peace Garden (see the slideshow below).  It is a beautiful, serene place that feels as though you have stepped outside of our own country for a moment.  There is a zen sand garden area that is properly raked.  There is a replica of Admiral Togo’s study that was built in Japan, disassembled, and shipped to the US, where it was reassembled by the original Japanese builders.  I was touched by this garden.  This symbol of peace and goodwill between two countries that had little to no reason for peace and goodwill.  Again, another place I would spend hours just sitting and reflecting. (Although I have to admit that the little kid in me kinda wanted to hop the chain and go mess up the perfect zen sand garden rows!)

After spending quite a bit of time in the courtyard, and in the garden, we headed into the Pacific War Museum itself. Stay tuned tomorrow for pictures and more to this story!

I know I said I was going to show you more pictures today from our trip, but I am going to postpone that until tomorrow, because I have something else on my mind and heart today.

Last night, I lay in bed, staying up late to finish a book. That in itself is not an unusual occurrence, but the way I was affected by this book was. I ask your indulgence on this post… I want to talk a bit about my religious heritage, and this is not an easy topic for me to talk about to most people. I was reading Churched-One kid’s journey toward God despite a Holy mess by Matthew Paul Turner, and it was like reading a story of my childhood. This is the author’s memoir of his childhood, growing up in a fundamental Christian household. Many of his stories are memories of some of the more outrageous, and legalistic, rules that they lived by, beliefs that they held, things that they thought and did. This book is his way of coming to terms with a disillusionment of his childhood beliefs, and a chance to move on to finding a deeper faith of his own in his adult years.

I could see myself on every page of this book. My family, until my early teen years, also attended a fundamental Baptist church. The rules were strict, the portrayal of God as a heavy taskmaster. I don’t, and I won’t, go into some of the beliefs and practices that we had, because to people who are not part of that culture, of that faith, they sound silly, and maybe a bit extreme. Think church… but the ULTRA version… I wouldn’t even recommend this book to most of my friends, because unless you come from that background, you really just won’t understand.

I reached a time in my life, much like the author, where I became disillusioned with the belief system. I began to see the flaws, and as the church was a “believe it all or don’t believe it at all” church, doubts and questions were a dangerous thing, at least in my mind. But the doubts continued, they grew, and eventually, I felt I had no other option than to walk away. I would never be good enough, I would never measure up, and I was soul-weary of trying.

But… and this is the important part… I still believed in God. I walked away from that church and that belief system with the knowledge that although I could no longer hold to those beliefs, the God I believed in, He was still very real to me. This is where I appreciated the author’s words in that book last night. He understood that feeling, that emptiness when you leave behind all you held dear as a child, that seeking for a foundation to rest your faith on. That need to belong to a community of believers, that need to share your faith with someone, someone who would understand, someone who could relate. I also appreciate his ability to acknowledge the foibles of his faith without being mocking and judgmental. He points out some of the things that perhaps seem silly to us now, but at the same time, honors the people who are in that church, even stating once that he envies them their faith.

And here’s the thing… I have found that place I was looking for. It is no longer about me still searching for a place to belong… it is now about the baggage that I carry from my past. The bitterness I carried towards the people that taught me those beliefs, the pain I still had towards the ghosts of that past. And in the pages of this book, I found something so priceless I don’t know that I can even put it into words.

I found freedom. A freedom to look back on where I came from. A freedom to acknowledge the bad as well as the good. A freedom to laughingly shake my head in slightly embarrassed acknowledgment of the way I once lived. A freedom to allow myself to see it in shades of gray instead of the stark black and white, to allow myself to think of it not as “wrong”, but as “wrong for me”. A freedom to finally allow myself to see that while the people might have been flawed, they still gave me a gift. They gave me a heritage. They gave me a foundation of faith, that I could then go on to build upon. I learned the strength to hold fast to my beliefs, even when I didn’t think anyone else shared them. I learned to be confident in what I believe. I learned to seek out a church, a faith, that would feed me, that would nurture me, that would not judge me.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the day in the world of Christendom when people vow to give up something for the days of Lent. A day when we make a commitment to put down something that is a part of our life, and to use that extra time to think about God. Mike and I have decided to give up sweets and desserts, certainly a tough call. On a more personal, spiritual level, I am making a commitment to myself. I will give up the bitterness. I will embrace the places that I have come from because they formed the person I am now. I will look back, and allow those people to have their flaws, without making them monsters. I will understand that although it was a place that I walked away from, it was not somewhere I left empty-handed.

They gave me a foundation.
They gave me a faith.
They gave me a heritage.

And I thank God for that.

I guess I should warn you that there are a LOT of pictures in this post, so I apologize if it takes a while to load up, but I think it is worth it.

I took so many pictures this weekend that I am actually going to split up the weekend into three posts. I thought I would start today with a little bit about Fredericksburg itself, and some pictures of the churches and architecture there, which was amazing! Fredericksburg was settled in the 1860’s by German settlers, and it holds a unique place in Texas. Most of Texas has a more Wild West meets Mexico heritage, with plenty of good spicy Mexican food, stories of the Alamo, and pictures of Cowboys. But Fredericksburg holds fast to its German heritage, and serves the best German food I have had since I lived in Germany itself. We ate everything from Jagerschnitzel (schnitzel covered in dark gravy and mushroom sauce) to Schweinebraten (roast pork in wine and mustard sauce), Knackwurst (probably our favorite of the weekend, a good German sausage), Rouladen (roast beef wrapped around pickles, bacon, and onions covered in brown gravy), and Spatzle (a very unique German noodle with cheese side dish). We left Fredericksburg with very happy stomachs indeed.

And the architecture! The churches, as seen below, look like they were picked up from Europe and transplanted directly over here when the town was founded. I think I was in awe the entire trip over the beauty and history of the buildings themselves…

(on any of these galleries, you can click “SL” for a slideshow or “FS” for full screen version of the pictures)

(the big red building that says “Science, Religion, Patriotism” is the Catholic school that is across the street from the church with the historic marker in front)

We spent a lot of time driving around the town just looking at the building and the historic sites… the next picture gallery shows historic Fort Martin Scott, which was the original Army post here in the 1800’s. You will also see a few black and white pictures of a small German village. This village was constructed on a back street in town, and although I have no idea how old it really is, it was beautiful and quaint, and I just happened to have black and white film in the camera when I took the pictures. The last picture is of an abandoned building that was near our hotel. It just seemed to catch my eye…

Tomorrow, I plan on showing you pictures of the World War II memorial and the Japanese peace garden, so stay tuned for more pictures!

(on a side note… I was really pleased with the way the pictures turned out from this weekend. All of these are undoctored, straight out of the camera, and they make me happy!)

I have a LOT I want to say about my wonderful trip to Fredericksburg this weekend with Mike, and the wonderful Valentine’s that we had.  I am waiting on the pictures that I took, however.  As some of you might know, I actually use a 35mm Canon Rebel EOS 2000, and Mike dropped the film off at the lab today.  I will get it back after work tonight, and I hope to have a long post tomorrow full of wonderful pictures!

But for now, let me just say that this weekend was wonderful, perfect, and just what we needed it to be… stay tuned tomorrow for the pictures (provided they turned out nicely!)

It is raining outside today, again.  The title of my last post mentions that it is a rainy day.  And because it is a dreary rainy day, and because I have never forgotten this story, I would like to share something with you…

All Summer in a Day by Ray Bradbury

I encourage you to click the link, and read the short story.  Somewhere along the way, some teacher that I can’t quite remember, made us read this story in class one day.  And I have never forgotten it.

I believe in the power of the written word to change people, to change lives, and this story changed mine.  It greatly influenced that part of me that now looks out for other people.  That part of my nature that worries so much about making sure that everyone is okay, that they are taken care of, that they are not forgotten.

Anyhow… I encourage you to read this story, if you haven’t before.  Leave a comment and let me know what you think.

It is raining again here in Texas, so it was so nice to find out that I was given this Sunshine Award by not just one, but TWO of the blogs that I follow and enjoy.  Mandy, the Java Mama and La Vida Dulce were both so sweet to give me this.

The rules for accepting this:
Put the logo on your blog or within your post (right click and save),
Pass the award onto 12 bloggers,
Link the nominees within your post,
Let the nominees know they have received this award by commenting on their blog.

Hmm… ok, for my nominees…

1. My Peace of the Puzzle

2. Suddenly Routine

3. Life According to Leah

4. Once an Infertile

5. Rancid Raves

6. Single Solitary Things

7. Thea Phipps

I know that’s not 12, but I live to break the rules!

Thanks again gals!