FADING SMILE OF A DYING EMPIRE

“All that is human must retrograde if it does not advance.” – Edward Gibbon

“Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay; the worst is death and death will have his day.” – William Shakespeare, Richard II

We moved to our corner of Montgomery County, Pennsylvania twenty-seven years ago. We raised our three boys here. We spent hundreds of hours on local baseball fields, in hockey rinks, in school gyms for basketball games, concerts, plays and donuts-with-dads. It’s still a nice place to live, with virtually no crime, decent roads, and reasonable property tax rates. But I would have to say there has been a degradation in the overall quality of life in my community, which is consistent with the downward spiral of our society in general. When we planted our roots in this community it was still more farm-like than suburban. Family farms and open space were more prevalent than housing tracts, strip malls, fast food joints and cookie cutter commercial buildings. A beautiful farmhouse a few miles from our home, freshly painted white, proudly displayed the iconic yellow smiley face. It symbolized good times.

We’ve been driving on this road for twenty-seven years on the way to baseball games, hockey practices, the car dealer for service, and lately to our gym, as we try to fend off father time.  Driving by that barn in the early days would always brighten your day. A bright yellow smiley face against a white background represented a positive, happy view of the world.

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Red Line

By Tim “xrugger” Stebbins for The Burning Platform

I have been thinking a great deal lately about red lines, those Rubicon’s of thought and action that, once crossed, present little or no opportunity of a peaceful return to the original status quo. There are lines crossed by tyrants, which finally trigger the violent response of a people too long oppressed. There are lines beyond which not one more compromise, law, or government threat will suffice to maintain a precarious peace. The riflemen at Lexington and Concord understood that kind of red line.

I got to thinking also of Colonel Travis’ apocryphal “line in the sand” at the Alamo. His red line was an invitation to sacrifice and martyrdom. The men who stepped over that line crossed in an instant from their present reality into the mists of myth and legend. Such is the power of a red line.

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