2/15/2006
R.I.P. Betty Friedan
NUMBER 133
R.I.P. Betty Friedan
On Monday, February 6, Betty Friedan 85, was buried in New York. In 1963, with her groundbreaking book, “The Feminine Mystique,” she midwifed the feminist revolution. What started out well in promoting expanded opportunities for young women soon turned vicious and damaging. Forty-three years of radical feminism has brought us to the place today where school teachers are accused of “gender bigotry” when they start their classroom day with “Good morning boys and girls.”
In 1968 I wrote about Betty and her friends. I wouldn’t change a thing in this poem today.
A PRAYER FOR MS.
"Not knowing where we are going ourselves, and thus not knowing where they are going, we realize that it is terribly important that we love them. Love is the only thing we can guarantee our children." Colette Dowling
"I suppose that what really made me go see Simone de Beauvoir was the feeling that someone must know the right answer, someone must know for sure that all the women who have thrown away those old misleading maps are heading in the right direction, someone must see more clearly than I where the new road ends...I found...there are no gods, no goddesses..." Betty Friedan
Lord,
Regard not lightly
Those who, scorning the stale air of this snug harbor,
Put out upon an unknown sea
Lacking chart, compass, knowledge of the stars...
Hoping chance may reveal
Some better place.
Lord,
Regard not lightly
Those blind souls who, burning all their bridges, depart
For reasons strongly felt
To places less than dimly seen...
Hoping for a cloud of fire
Or some other sign to meet them
In the way.
Lord,
Regard not lightly
Those who face the shrieking gale
Or grope within the blinding fog
Or wait in vain for some small breeze...
Hoping still for time and chance
To bear them to
More friendly seas.
Lord,
Illuminate their way
Or, lacking that, comfort them at least,
In their great dismay as they approach the void
And see, too late, the going was the best of it
For those who travel unknown seas
Lacking chart, compass, knowledge of the stars.
6/68
009
R.I.P. Betty Friedan
On Monday, February 6, Betty Friedan 85, was buried in New York. In 1963, with her groundbreaking book, “The Feminine Mystique,” she midwifed the feminist revolution. What started out well in promoting expanded opportunities for young women soon turned vicious and damaging. Forty-three years of radical feminism has brought us to the place today where school teachers are accused of “gender bigotry” when they start their classroom day with “Good morning boys and girls.”
In 1968 I wrote about Betty and her friends. I wouldn’t change a thing in this poem today.
A PRAYER FOR MS.
"Not knowing where we are going ourselves, and thus not knowing where they are going, we realize that it is terribly important that we love them. Love is the only thing we can guarantee our children." Colette Dowling
"I suppose that what really made me go see Simone de Beauvoir was the feeling that someone must know the right answer, someone must know for sure that all the women who have thrown away those old misleading maps are heading in the right direction, someone must see more clearly than I where the new road ends...I found...there are no gods, no goddesses..." Betty Friedan
Lord,
Regard not lightly
Those who, scorning the stale air of this snug harbor,
Put out upon an unknown sea
Lacking chart, compass, knowledge of the stars...
Hoping chance may reveal
Some better place.
Lord,
Regard not lightly
Those blind souls who, burning all their bridges, depart
For reasons strongly felt
To places less than dimly seen...
Hoping for a cloud of fire
Or some other sign to meet them
In the way.
Lord,
Regard not lightly
Those who face the shrieking gale
Or grope within the blinding fog
Or wait in vain for some small breeze...
Hoping still for time and chance
To bear them to
More friendly seas.
Lord,
Illuminate their way
Or, lacking that, comfort them at least,
In their great dismay as they approach the void
And see, too late, the going was the best of it
For those who travel unknown seas
Lacking chart, compass, knowledge of the stars.
6/68
009
2/08/2006
SANDRA'S BAD DAY
NUMBER 132
Sandra’s Bad Day
SANDRA’S TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,
NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY
A reflection on the retirement of Sandra Day O’Connor after 25 years of service as Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States
In loving memory of the twenty million babies who were unable to become an “undue burden” to their parents as a result of Justice O Connor’s vote on "Planned Parenthood vs. Casey" 505 U.S. 833(1992)
"The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity."
W.B. Yeats, "The Second Coming"
"Fix your eyes below, upon the valley,
for now we near the stream of blood,
where those who injure others boil."
Dante, "Inferno," First Book, Canto 12.46
The Seventh Circle, First Ring—Murderers
O Sandra Day what will you say
When heaven’s last trumpet sounds--
When you shall stand before the Judge
And hear Him ask about the grounds
On which you cast the damning “Aye”
Condemning millions more to die
Without a chance to quit the womb--
How could you, Sandra, so presume?
Will you call poor Harry Black
To beg, for you, a little slack?
I see you bear upon your back
A monstrous load that weighs you down:
The weight of “choice” ten million times
And then ten million times again,
Is silent now--the blood of murdered babies cries
Just as loud from every ground,
And every cry weighs many a pound,
And all those pounds are in the sack
That bends your aching, weary back.
Now take your sack and pour it out
In that river bubbling black,
Mix it with the murdered blood
Of all who died before they should.
The time is past for love and grace--
Dante’s river is your final place.
031-2
js 2/2006
Sandra’s Bad Day
SANDRA’S TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE,
NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY
A reflection on the retirement of Sandra Day O’Connor after 25 years of service as Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States
In loving memory of the twenty million babies who were unable to become an “undue burden” to their parents as a result of Justice O Connor’s vote on "Planned Parenthood vs. Casey" 505 U.S. 833(1992)
"The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity."
W.B. Yeats, "The Second Coming"
"Fix your eyes below, upon the valley,
for now we near the stream of blood,
where those who injure others boil."
Dante, "Inferno," First Book, Canto 12.46
The Seventh Circle, First Ring—Murderers
O Sandra Day what will you say
When heaven’s last trumpet sounds--
When you shall stand before the Judge
And hear Him ask about the grounds
On which you cast the damning “Aye”
Condemning millions more to die
Without a chance to quit the womb--
How could you, Sandra, so presume?
Will you call poor Harry Black
To beg, for you, a little slack?
I see you bear upon your back
A monstrous load that weighs you down:
The weight of “choice” ten million times
And then ten million times again,
Is silent now--the blood of murdered babies cries
Just as loud from every ground,
And every cry weighs many a pound,
And all those pounds are in the sack
That bends your aching, weary back.
Now take your sack and pour it out
In that river bubbling black,
Mix it with the murdered blood
Of all who died before they should.
The time is past for love and grace--
Dante’s river is your final place.
031-2
js 2/2006
2/02/2006
GODRIC'S SONG
NUMBER 131
Godric’s Song
GODRIC’S SONG
Godric was an extraordinary 12th
Century Saint. Born of Anglo-Saxon
parents in Norfolk, about 1065,
he died in Finchale on the river
Wear in 1170.
Praise God for all the years
Life's river bears away,
Praise Jesu for the morning sun
That warms a brand new day,
Praise Holy Ghost for every bird
That sings from every tree,
All praise to God, the Three in One,
The Glorious One in Three.
Praise to the Lamb Who was slain--
Give Him power and riches and might,
Glory and honor and blessing,
Who was and is and is to come,
The Way, the Truth, the Light,
Who sits enthroned with the Father,
Who opens the wonderful Book,
Who rides forth on a white horse to conquer,
And conquers with only a look.
6/02/2/06
100/131
Godric’s Song
GODRIC’S SONG
Godric was an extraordinary 12th
Century Saint. Born of Anglo-Saxon
parents in Norfolk, about 1065,
he died in Finchale on the river
Wear in 1170.
Praise God for all the years
Life's river bears away,
Praise Jesu for the morning sun
That warms a brand new day,
Praise Holy Ghost for every bird
That sings from every tree,
All praise to God, the Three in One,
The Glorious One in Three.
Praise to the Lamb Who was slain--
Give Him power and riches and might,
Glory and honor and blessing,
Who was and is and is to come,
The Way, the Truth, the Light,
Who sits enthroned with the Father,
Who opens the wonderful Book,
Who rides forth on a white horse to conquer,
And conquers with only a look.
6/02/2/06
100/131
2/01/2006
Registered Sex Offender Site
Most of you have children, grandchildren, or friends who do. You should know about the Family Watchdog site: www12.familywatchdog.us
Go to this site, enter your address and you will get a map showing all the registered sex offenders within about a 5 mile radius. There will be color coded squares for the homes of offenders. Coded by offenses against children, rapists, sexual battery, and other sexual offenses. Click on a square and you get a picture and the details.

Go to this site, enter your address and you will get a map showing all the registered sex offenders within about a 5 mile radius. There will be color coded squares for the homes of offenders. Coded by offenses against children, rapists, sexual battery, and other sexual offenses. Click on a square and you get a picture and the details.

