9/11 My Thoughts

Every year on 9/11 I take time to recall the events that happened on that day. We see the images of the Twin Towers, and recall the sacrifice of the people trapped in them and of the lives of all the first responders who gave all in the performing of their duties. But 9/11 affected every American, no matter where you were, or what you were doing. I repost my memories of what I was doing on that day as my way of remembering, and honoring those that died, and those who live on, forever changed by that day.

Every generation has it’s defining moments.   Those events where you can remember where you were and what you were doing at that time.   I can remember three such events during my lifetime, the moon landing, the Challenger explosion,… 9/ 11.  I know we all have our recollections of that day.  Here are mine.

We were stationed at RAF Lakenheath, in England at the time.  There were two other bases nearby and we were living in the housing units just outside of one of those bases.   The circular street, called a close, had about twenty-five, neat brick houses surrounded by a fence.  It was just outside of the main gate of RAF Feltwell, just outside of a village with the same name.

“G” was taking his nap and I turned on the TV to CNN.  It was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon.  I watched what I thought was a report about a terrible airline accident.  Then, live on the TV I watched as a second airliner circled around and crashed into the South Tower.  As I sat transfixed watching the events unfold, it still hadn’t sunk in that this was a deliberate attack.  Then came the crash at the Pentagon.   I know at some point during this time I must have prayed.  Prayers for the people at the Pentagon, prayers for the safety of my family and my husband’s family even though they were thousands of miles from New York and DC.  And prayers for the people trapped inside a house of horrors as I watched through the TV screen as the South Tower collapsed.   I knew life on base was about to get very complicated.  My mind turned to some mundane thoughts.  “Did I have enough milk and bread?  What about diapers?   Heaven forbid I run out of diapers.

It was just after three pm, school had just gotten out and “A” came rushing through the kitchen door.  “Mom, I left my back pack on the play ground and we have to go back and get it.” “We’ll have to hurry before they lock the gates” I told her.  “Why would they lock the gates? “ She asked, unaware of what had just happened.  “I’ll tell you later.” I knew that any minute the base would be going into Threatcon Delta and if the base was locked down we might be stuck there for hours. I grabbed “G” and buckled him into his stroller, grabbed my purse and a couple of diapers, just in case.  We ran a block to the street that separated the houses from the main gate of the base.  As I showed the guard my ID, I asked him how long we had before he would be locking down.  He gave me a strange look and said he wasn’t closing the gate.  Obviously he didn’t know yet.  We ran to the playground, found the backpack, then ran the couple of blocks back to the gate.   We crossed the street just as the guard pulled the big iron gates, that would block vehicles from coming on to the base, closed with a loud clang.

Why did we have to run?  Why did they close the gates?  How do you tell an eight-year-old child that we are at war and maybe in danger?  I had to be straightforward.  “A” would not accept a half-truth.  We sat down and watched as the events continued to unfold on the TV.  Some people thought that it was wrong to let a child see the coverage.  But I have never lied to my children even when the news might be hard to bear.   The phone rang.  It was the hubs calling to say he would be home late.  “I know,” I said.  Then hung up the phone.  I know at sometime during the evening I called my family.  Even though I knew they were fine, I need to hear it from them, and “A” needed to know that they were OK.

The next morning, the gates to our housing unit were locked.   In front of the pedestrian gate where the kids would meet the lollipop lady that helped them across the road, was a Humvee with a .50 caliber machine gun on top.  For the next three days we were locked in.  Only the active duty military members were allowed in or out on their way to and from work.  No school, and very little information about what we were supposed to do.  This was new territory for us military spouses.  Some kept their blinds closed, others kept their lights off after dark.  The BX was closed, the Commissary was closed.  After a few days the walls began to close in.  We decided it was safe to let our kids play outside.  Under the watchful eyes of the guard, we walked by the gate.  There on the other side of the street in front of the entrance to the base was a mound of flowers.  Our English neighbors showed their support in so many ways.  The Queen even ordered that “The Star Spangled Banner” be played at the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace.  The only time another country has been so honored.

Slowly we settled in to what was now the “new normal”.  The Humvee was replaced with a portable guard shack.  The gates were open, but were filled with iron obstacles that resembled giant jacks.  The kids having to show ID’s to the gate guard,  the vehicle searches and the dogs became routine.  As we once again returned to the villages we were often greeted with, “we’re so glad to see you out and about”.  It wasn’t the greeting of shop owners, glad for the returning business; it was the kind of greeting you would give a friend who was finally outside after recovering from a serious illness.

The whole experience was surreal.  As I went about my normal routine, it seemed somehow inappropriate to do so.   After so many had lost their life, it seemed wrong to go to the market, to go out to eat or to the pub, or go to London to do some Christmas shopping.  But carry on we did, because to do otherwise, was to let the terrorists win.

My most poignant memory of that time did not happen on 9/11 or the days following.  It came several months later.  “A” was learning patriotic songs in music class.  In her backpack I found a paper the music teacher had given them, and this was what she had doodled on the page.

911

The patriotism, the pride, the tribute of an eight-year-old girl.  There is hope for this country after all.

That year, after the attacks, My children and I went home back to the States for Christmas. I remember that inspite of the heightened security everywhere, there was a sense of unity among the people. Nativity Scenes were everywhere, and there was no controversy over them. People stepped up to help their neighbors, and their politics didn’t matter. We all suffered as a nation and all came together to heal. We really need that spirit now. Let’s hope it doesn’t take another tragedy to get us there.

What If?

Our country is in trouble.  Many Christians feel that it is unseemly to engage in politics or express their opinions about the culture wars that are all around us.  They feel that there is no need to worry about what’s going on in the world, it is just the “signs of the times” and besides, we will all be Raptured out before the shit really hits the fan.  But what if you aren’t? This post is not meant to be a debate on the Biblical validity of the Rapture.  But consider, what if the scriptures that are commonly used to validate a belief in the Rapture, are really just describing the Resurrection, the Rapture and the Return of Jesus, as one singular event in time that takes place after the Tribulation?  What if you knew that you and your loved ones would have to live through the coming plagues, natural disasters, wars, economic collapse, and tyranny.  Would that change the way you are relating to the world around you? Would you speak up for the unborn? Would you have the courage to speak out against the various sexual sins that are becoming mainstream?   Would you change the way you shop, or the entertainment you consume?  Would you take the time to research candidates and vote for the ones who stand for Biblical principles and truths?  And what if we really humbled ourselves, prayed, fasted, and repented, G-d would come down and remove this judgment from us?  There are numerous examples in scripture where a prophesy was changed, and judgement averted because G-d’s people humbled themselves and repented.  What if by prayer and repentance, we could once again become a united, peaceful, and prosperous nation?  

We have, for far too long, taken for granted the freedom of worship we have enjoyed in this country. We look with horror at other countries where people are actually being hunted down and killed for believing in Jesus.  We meet securely in our home groups while others meet in secret fearing for their lives.  We think those things could never happen here, while right under our noses, our freedoms are being eroded away.  It is time for Christians to stand up, step up, and demand a seat at the table.  That our voices are heard, and our views respected in the media, the theater, the school hall, city hall, the halls of Congress and the ballot box. It will take us humbling ourselves.  It will take courage, it will take hard work, but we can turn this nation around.

The Equality Act is Not What it Seems

This is one of the most dangerous pieces of legislation in the history of our county. It will make the LGBTQ community a protected class by erasing the Constitutionally protected rights of people who chose to live by their religious convictions. This ill-conceived legislation has already passed the House and will soon be up for a vote in the Senate. With Kamala Harris as the tie-breaker in the Senate, it is imperative that Democratic Senators understand that their support of this bill goes against the will of the majority of their constituents. Please write your Senators, especially if they are Democrats, and let them know that you do not support this bill. You can copy and use the letter I am sending, and edited version of it, or compose your own just please do not sit this one out. Here is a link to find who your Senators are and how to contact them.https://www.senate.gov/senators/senators-contact.htm

Here’s a copy of the letter I am sending

As one of your constituents, I am expressing my grave concern about the upcoming legislation called the Equality Act.  Though well meaning, this overly broad, far reaching bill would have an extremely detrimental effect on American society. 

 The bill ignores the medically proven differences between biological males and females, denying the level playing field created for women by Title 9.  It places women in danger by forcing them to dress and use the bathroom with fully intact biological males.  There is nothing in the equality act that would protect women from a man fraudulently claiming to identify as a woman solely to gain access to women’s changing and bathroom facilities in order to sexually assault them.  

This bill would force American citizens of faith and faith base institutions, to violate their Constitutionally protected right to practice the tenets of their religion. It would force hospitals run by faith-based organizations to perform gender reassignment surgeries and treatments, in contradiction to the teachings of the religious organizations that run them.  An unintended consequence of this ill-conceived law could leave some areas without adequate medical care because it would force faith based medical facilities to shutter their doors rather than violate the word of God.  Individuals and businesses would be forced to ignore their beliefs and participate in celebrations and ceremonies that would violate those beliefs.  Pastors would be forced to alter their sermons if they teach the Biblical ideals of marriage and family, or if they teach that homosexuality is sinful.  Not only, is there nothing in the Equality Act to protect the Constitutional rights of people of faith, but the act seeks to deny the rights protected under the Religious Freedom Restoration Act of 1993.  

The Equality Act places children in danger by denying parents the right to refuse to allow their children to undergo dangerous, life altering, irreversible gender reassignment treatments.  The act also provides no protection for children whose parents allow them to undergo these treatments without absolute assurance that the child is truly suffering from gender dysphoria, and not just going through “a phase”. 

The concept that the discrimination this bill attempts to eliminate, is the cause of the anxiety and suicidal tendencies of the LGBTQ community, is not definitively proven. 

As a United States Senator, it is your responsibility to uphold your oath to support and defend the Construction of the United States, by voting no on the Equality Act.

Prayer of Humility and Repentance

13 “When I shut up the heavens so that there is no rain, or command locusts to devour the land or send a plague among my people, 14 if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land. 15 Now my eyes will be open and my ears attentive to the prayers offered in this place. 2 chronicles 7:13-15 NIV

Like many other Christians I have quoted this scripture often this past year. It has been a long hard year and also like many Christians I have clung to the promise of G-d’s deliverance. I anticipated the election as culmination of that deliverance, that we would see the Holy Spirit move in an unmistakable and awesome way. Well, that’s what’s happening, just not in the way I had expected or hoped.

I do believe that G-d put President Trump in the White House to bring about a return of G-dly principles to this nation. However, Trump was just another tool in the Potter’s hands, and we lost sight of that. We came to treat Donald Trump, not as a deeply flawed and sinful human being who G-d could nevertheless anoint to lead our country, but as a role model, a champion, indeed, a savior. Instead of praying for Jesus to work on Trumps heart, to humble him, grant him wisdom and discernment. We made excuses for his behavior, and we imbued him with Christlike attributes that he didn’t possess.

It was indeed G-d’s intention that Trump win this election. Trump was anointed to have a second term, but we Christians blew it. Instead of looking to G-d alone for our deliverance, we asked G-d for a champion, instead of asking G-d for His deliverance, we asked for a Trump victory. We didn’t heed the Warnings of Proverbs 6:16-19. Trump indeed has haughty eyes, he hasn’t always been honest, and he does devise wicked schemes against those he views as disloyal. And we have been too quick rush into evil, to click and share things that fit our narrative instead of vetting it for truthfulness. We should have convicted our President and ourselves of these sins and prayed for a change in ours’s and the President’s hearts and minds. To seek a more Christlike countenance. Instead with our Trump Trains, our boat parades, and with massive rallies that defied common sense in the midst of a pandemic, we made an idol of Donald Trump. He is our golden calf. We looked on him as the savior of our country, instead of looking to the savior G-d has already sent us, Jesus Christ. And so, G-d has removed his anointing from him. If Joe Biden does indeed become President, don’t blame G-d for abandoning us, look in your own heart to see to whom your loyalty lies. G-d did not forsake us, we forsook Him.

I don’t believe it is too late to save this country from shroud of evil that will envelope this land if it turns socialist, but we must truly humble ourselves. Pray continually, fast, and repent from Idolatry. Don’t pray for Trump to win, pray for G-d Himself to reveal and purge the evil entities in our government. And please share this message. I don’t care if you credit me for it. This isn’t
for my glory, I too, am guilty of idolatry, but G-d’s Put it in your own words, but please spread this message of repentance to your Christian friends, your Pastors, to any Christian leaders you know, so that once again prayer rallies of repentance can be organized throughout this country. G-d alone is our only hope.
Blessed is the nation whose G-d is the Lord.

Prayer Changes Things

It was great that President Trump declared last Sunday as a national day of prayer, but I have kind of felt led to share this idea. What if we as a nation set aside a specific time like maybe 9 or 10pm each evening to pray our country through this crisis. We can pray for wisdom and good judgment for our leaders, for the medical professionals on the front line of this fight. Pray for the small business owners and their employees that they may be sustained. Pray for healing for those afflicted and for safety for our loved ones. Basically whatever you feel led to pray for. I think there would be great power from the Lord if we praise him and lift each other up in one great unified voice. I must admit that over the weekend I gave in to the fear and panic, but now the Lord has given me a peace about it. We may not know what to do, the things the government is doing might help or make matters worse, but G-d is and will always be in control. We will get through this. It will be alright.

9/11 My Thoughts

Every year on 9/11 I take time to recall the events that happened on that day. We see the images of the Twin Towers, and recall the sacrifice of the people trapped in them and of the lives of all the first responders who gave all in the performing of their duties. But 9/11 affected every American, no matter where you were, or what you were doing. I repost my memories of what I was doing on that day as my way of remembering, and honoring those that died, and those who live on, forever changed by that day.

Every generation has it’s defining moments.   Those events where you can remember where you were and what you were doing at that time.   I can remember three such events during my lifetime, the moon landing, the Challenger explosion,… 9/ 11.  I know we all have our recollections of that day.  Here are mine.

We were stationed at RAF Lakenheath, in England at the time.  There were two other bases nearby and we were living in the housing units just outside of one of those bases.   The circular street, called a close, had about twenty-five, neat brick houses surrounded by a fence.  It was just outside of the main gate of RAF Feltwell, just outside of a village with the same name.

“G” was taking his nap and I turned on the TV to CNN.  It was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon.  I watched what I thought was a report about a terrible airline accident.  Then, live on the TV I watched as a second airliner circled around and crashed into the South Tower.  As I sat transfixed watching the events unfold, it still hadn’t sunk in that this was a deliberate attack.  Then came the crash at the Pentagon.   I know at some point during this time I must have prayed.  Prayers for the people at the Pentagon, prayers for the safety of my family and my husband’s family even though they were thousands of miles from New York and DC.  And prayers for the people trapped inside a house of horrors as I watched through the TV screen as the South Tower collapsed.   I knew life on base was about to get very complicated.  My mind turned to some mundane thoughts.  “Did I have enough milk and bread?  What about diapers?   Heaven forbid I run out of diapers.

It was just after three pm, school had just gotten out and “A” came rushing through the kitchen door.  “Mom, I left my back pack on the play ground and we have to go back and get it.” “We’ll have to hurry before they lock the gates” I told her.  “Why would they lock the gates? “ She asked, unaware of what had just happened.  “I’ll tell you later.” I knew that any minute the base would be going into Threatcon Delta and if the base was locked down we might be stuck there for hours. I grabbed “G” and buckled him into his stroller, grabbed my purse and a couple of diapers, just in case.  We ran a block to the street that separated the houses from the main gate of the base.  As I showed the guard my ID, I asked him how long we had before he would be locking down.  He gave me a strange look and said he wasn’t closing the gate.  Obviously he didn’t know yet.  We ran to the playground, found the backpack, then ran the couple of blocks back to the gate.   We crossed the street just as the guard pulled the big iron gates, that would block vehicles from coming on to the base, closed with a loud clang.

Why did we have to run?  Why did they close the gates?  How do you tell an eight-year-old child that we are at war and maybe in danger?  I had to be straightforward.  “A” would not accept a half-truth.  We sat down and watched as the events continued to unfold on the TV.  Some people thought that it was wrong to let a child see the coverage.  But I have never lied to my children even when the news might be hard to bear.   The phone rang.  It was the hubs calling to say he would be home late.  “I know,” I said.  Then hung up the phone.  I know at sometime during the evening I called my family.  Even though I knew they were fine, I need to hear it from them, and “A” needed to know that they were OK.

The next morning, the gates to our housing unit were locked.   In front of the pedestrian gate where the kids would meet the lollipop lady that helped them across the road, was a Humvee with a .50 caliber machine gun on top.  For the next three days we were locked in.  Only the active duty military members were allowed in or out on their way to and from work.  No school, and very little information about what we were supposed to do.  This was new territory for us military spouses.  Some kept their blinds closed, others kept their lights off after dark.  The BX was closed, the Commissary was closed.  After a few days the walls began to close in.  We decided it was safe to let our kids play outside.  Under the watchful eyes of the guard, we walked by the gate.  There on the other side of the street in front of the entrance to the base was a mound of flowers.  Our English neighbors showed their support in so many ways.  The Queen even ordered that “The Star Spangled Banner” be played at the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace.  The only time another country has been so honored.

Slowly we settled in to what was now the “new normal”.  The Humvee was replaced with a portable guard shack.  The gates were open, but were filled with iron obstacles that resembled giant jacks.  The kids having to show ID’s to the gate guard,  the vehicle searches and the dogs became routine.  As we once again returned to the villages we were often greeted with, “we’re so glad to see you out and about”.  It wasn’t the greeting of shop owners, glad for the returning business; it was the kind of greeting you would give a friend who was finally outside after recovering from a serious illness.

The whole experience was surreal.  As I went about my normal routine, it seemed somehow inappropriate to do so.   After so many had lost their life, it seemed wrong to go to the market, to go out to eat or to the pub, or go to London to do some Christmas shopping.  But carry on we did, because to do otherwise, was to let the terrorists win.

My most poignant memory of that time did not happen on 9/11 or the days following.  It came several months later.  “A” was learning patriotic songs in music class.  In her backpack I found a paper the music teacher had given them, and this was what she had doodled on the page.

911

The patriotism, the pride, the tribute of an eight-year-old girl.  There is hope for this country after all.

We Need Real Men

What is a real man? As a little girl I remember thinking that a real man was one who always had dirt under his fingernails. As I grew older, I learned why that was so. All my perceptions of what a real man was, was shaped by my father, and he set the bar high.

A real man takes care of his family. Daddy was a worker. He had to drop out of school to get a job to care for his brother and sisters. I remember him working evenings out in the garage, fixing cars or farm equipment to earn extra money. Even after working all day a Kelly Field. He didn’t just make sure we had a roof over our head or food on the table, he kept us safe as well. I was always confident that if anyone tried to harm us Daddy would take care of them.

A real man builds things, and fixes things. I remember only one time that Daddy ever called a repair man. It was to fix a TV and though it was too long ago to remember why, I imaging it was because he couldn’t get the parts to do it himself. Wiring, plumbing, inside, or out Daddy could fix it. He could diagnose a broken car just by listening to it. The bigger the engine, the better he liked it. I remember him working on an engine that was so big, I could crawl inside the piston cylinder. From sheds to adding a room on the house, Daddy was the DIY master. He could calculate how many yards of concrete it took to pour a slab, and how many 2X4’s it took to frame a building. And he did this without a computer, or algebra, or a high school diploma.

A real man has a code. It is an unwritten code. A real man doesn’t have his code outlined on the refrigerator or mounted on cutesy word art. A real man lives his code and teaches it by example. Always return something you borrow in better condition that you found it. Avoid the slavery of debt. Daddy rarely cussed. When he did, you’d better run. Daddy never came home drunk, or raised a hand to Momma, and he made sure we knew he didn’t think highly of men who did. He would go out of his way to help a friend or a family member. Everyone knew he was a man you could count on.

I could go on and on about how Daddy shaped my character, by being a man of character himself, and never come close to finishing. Good men,  real men, do much to shape the lives of their sons, but they do just as much to shape the lives of their daughters as well.

For Honor

John 15:12-14 New International Version (NIV)
12 My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. 13 Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends

On Memorial Day we honor those who have made the supreme sacrifice protecting the United States. While we honor those who died in combat, let’s not forget those who died in a different theater, the battlefield of home. According to the Department of Veterans’ Affairs, in 2016, 6079 veterans committed suicide. The reasons why the suicide rate among Veterans is so much higher than the national average are complex. PTSD, the stress of transitioning from combat to civilian life, opioid addiction, and isolation are some of the issues the VA is addressing, but much more needs to be done to identify at risk veterans and insure they have access to the care they need. There is one area that I feel is overlooked and needs to be addressed. That is the kind of society our Veterans are coming home to.

The military send troops all over the world to stop the spread of tyranny where it lives, to keep it from our shores. After sacrificing precious time away from their families, and sometimes health and limbs, our heroes come home to a nation which has lost its moral compass. The evils they were sent to fight, Communism, tyrannical dictatorships, radical Islam, are not only accepted, but openly embraced by academia, journalists, the entertainment industry, and even some of those elected to Congress. Is it any wonder that returning Veterans feel hopeless and despondent? While the ubiquitous “thank you for your service” and “we support our troops” are everywhere, and it’s nice to be appreciated, these platitudes seem hollow when uttered by a people who have no real understanding of the ideals our Veterans were sent to defend.

Academia dishonors the fallen when it teaches revisionist history instead of the true intent of our founders. Journalists dishonor the fallen when they paint a one-sided anti-American version of events. The entertainment industry dishonors the fallen when it works to shape society by promoting a Leftist agenda, leaving the other side without a voice. We dishonor the fallen when we accept a globalist world view that denigrates American Exceptionalism. We fail to educate ourselves and our children about the Constitution, and the proper role of government, and then we elect representatives and leaders who merely say what we want to hear.

The day we can truly honor the fallen, is not the last Monday in May, it is that Tuesday in November when we can choose to elect representatives who understand our Founding Documents, will uphold the Constitution, and will champion individual liberty over the will of the masses and their own desire for power. Those brave heroes who died battling the horrors of war, overseas and at home, they did their duty, now it’s time we did ours.

A Texan Mom

This Mother’s Day, I am reflecting on my childhood. I was blessed to be raised by a stay at home mom. This wasn’t just a circumstance she found herself in, for her it was a career choice. Make no mistake, being a stay at home mom and managing a household is a career. My mom taught me some practical life skills, how to sew on a button, scrub dishes, balance a checkbook, pay bills. But it was the attitudes she instilled in me that made me the woman I am today.

My mom was involved in our lives. She was an active volunteer at school. At least once a week she could be found assisting wherever needed on campus. She didn’t just do this for the opportunity to socialize with other adults, she did it to have a voice in what was being taught. She knew, even all those years ago, that schools were quickly becoming indoctrination centers for Socialist ideology and that by being in the trenches she might have an influence. She shared this reasoning with us, and it has inspired my political activism. At one time, she was on the executive committee of four different PTAs, elementary school, middle school, high school, and the South Texas district. She wasn’t just a helper, she took charge. I’ve seen her lay out the agenda for meetings, and preside over them. She planned fundraisers, and even coordinated a parade for the entire school district. She understood the impact this had on our upbringing. Let me tell you, when all the teachers and principals know your mom, when all the kids at school know your mom, when all the other moms know your mom, and everything you do at school WILL get back to your mom, you WILL behave. This fact encouraged me to be involved with my own children’s activities, and not just me, my sister and brother were also active in the schooling and interests of their children.

My mom is courageous. Twice she battled breast cancer and won. She always stayed active and kept an upbeat and positive attitude, which her doctors credited to her healing. She managed this even when undergoing grueling rounds of chemotherapy, surgery, and painful radiation. I know there must have been times when in the solitude of her thoughts she must have prayed “why me G-d?” but she walked as a victor, not a victim. She put herself in G-d’s hands and submitted to His will. She had cancer; cancer didn’t have her.

Above all else, my mom is a faithful woman. Not just to my father, which in itself is a wonderful example of the beauty of marriage, but to her Heavenly Father. My mom is not a “cultural Christian”. She earnestly believes in the power of the Holy Spirit. I’ve seen her fervent prayers and I’ve seen her prayers answered. And even when they weren’t answered in the way she hoped, she still had faith that it was for the best. Her steadfast belief has encouraged and inspired my own, and I still call on her to pray with me when I need that extra support.

My mom is the epitome of the true Texan Woman. A woman who is always in her element. Whether she is helping build a fence, straddling a goat while she vaccinates it, or wearing an evening gown, dining in an elegant restaurant.

So, this Mother’s Day I wanted my mom to know just how much I value her example. An example that is desperately needed in today’s world. She set the bar high. I hope I’ve managed to live up to it.

Fake News Strikes Again

I come across headlines like this quite often on my Xfinity Homepage. I’m not sure who writes them, whether it is someone at the Comcast corporation who writes content for the homepage, or NBC news itself. As far as I’m concerned, it really doesn’t matter, both are guilty of blatantly attempting to mislead the public. We have gotten so used to “bite size” information from Twitter, Facebook, chats, texts, etc, that few people bother to read a whole story anymore. They look at the headlines and form an opinion, a platform, or a dogma, from them. If you just went by the headline in this story, you would be under the impression that the Ukraine is losing its best and brightest because it has embraced a Western Style culture. If you actually read the story, you would learn that Ukrainian professionals are leaving because the ongoing war has left them and their families with little opportunity. If you have followed the war in the Ukraine you would know that this is because of the unfair treatment from Russia, more than influence from the West. It is obvious the use of inflammatory headlines has become more about influence and shaping the culture, than encouraging readers to dig deeper into the story. Shame on Comcast, shame on NBC, shame on any media outlet, Right or Left, that uses misleading headlines. No wonder we no longer trust you.

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