Shopping and Other Evils

     I believe that we conjure our own personal hell. Mine will be similar to Dante's ninth ring described in his "Inferno". It will be cold, and added to that, no sleep due to constant snoring although it is unclear where the snoring comes from if no one is asleep. Maybe it is piped in like elevator music. Added to these miseries, I will be required to go shopping…with women…for eternity. That thought alone has caused much repentance on my part.

            I stop mere micro-millimeters from saying that I hate shopping, but if it is possible to get any closer and not actually hate something, I am there. I squirm in my chair as I vividly remember shopping for school clothes on a miserably hot west Texas day in August in an un-air-conditioned department store. I can still feel the stiff scratchiness of new blue jeans on my bare, sweaty legs, as I was forced to try on pair after pair for what seemed like an eternity. Right back to the hell thing, aren't we?

            The most memorable whipping I received as a child, and there were many of them, all justified, was due to my throwing a screaming-meany fit because I did not want to go shopping with the family on a Saturday. The hell of this one was that I still had to go shopping, but with my butt stinging all the while. The only thing missing that day was the cold and snoring. Those two torments were years in the future.

            I have never liked shopping unless we were going for something I wanted, but that was so rare that I remember only once in my childhood it ever happening. That singular event was when I had somehow acquired sufficient funds to buy a pair of Converse All-stars. The shopping lasted ten minutes tops, as I already knew exactly what I wanted down to the size. It would have lasted five minutes, but my mother had to look over my purchase and compare one black high top to another to make sure I knew what I was doing.  Other than doubling the length of time in the store, it was near perfect. The only way you can improve on a five-minute shopping spree is if you do not leave the house at all. Enter, the modern age.

            I wondered if there was anything I couldn't buy over the internet and never have to leave my desk, much less the house. I started investigating, looking for obscure, ridicules things like a DC-3, a "Long-Tom" cannon, and a helicopter gun ship. I found them all for sale! I have not completed those purchases…yet.

            Shopping for these items has taken me into the darkest recesses of the Ether, or the cloud, as they now call it, and it is scary in there, but whatever your little heart desires, you can find. My stroll down that virtual dark alley, has given the term "Black Market" a completely new meaning.  

            After playing with the ridiculous, I wondered about the acquisition of more mundane, daily need items. I was not disappointed. The first thing I sought was groceries. I thought there would be no way, but I was stunned to find several online grocery providers who would ship right to my door. The real test came when I searched for the most staple of staples in my diet, chocolate doughnuts. Yep, I found them, right down to my favorite brand.

            The only problem I have with online shopping is that the prices are higher, and when you add shipping, it is cheaper to shop near home. I am willing to pay more for convenience, and to be able to stay home and not go into a store…with a female. The overage is a small price indeed.

            The Admiral is famous for saying, "I'm going to the store for a minute." I should know by now that she is not talking in "guy" minutes, which are the traditional sixty-second ones. No, she is speaking in "girl" minutes, which are sixty minutes long. Most normal people, or I should say, males, call that an hour.

            When she and the Princesses, trained by her, get home, I incredulously ask, "Where have you been?"

            They look at me with well-practiced, impatient stares and say, "At the store," as if that is the end all of explanations. They smile, and it goes downhill from there.

            You would think after all these years of marriage that I would have learned not to go to any store with her, but I have not. I am still a sucker for, "I'm only going for two things. Do you want to come along?" I love her, and do go, but it never fails. The "two things" turn out to be two shopping carts that are filled only after she has read, nay, memorized every label on every item.

            I know it is my fault. I bring it on myself as punishment for some sin for which I have not repented. After all, it is my own personal hell. Cue the cold and snoring.

I Just Can't Imagine

I recently watched the movie, "The Magic of Belle Isle" in which Morgan Freeman's character, Monte, declares, "Imagination.. the most powerful force ever made available to humankind." The line resonated with me, because it came on the heels of another encounter dealing with the same subject.

            A few days before, I had a conversation with a psychologist, which touched on the subject of today's youth and their imagination, or lack of it. I became a listener rather than a contributor as she is in a position to read studies and articles that I am not. The conversation got me to thinking. Are the youth of today lacking in imagination?

            She is a few years younger than I am, but close enough to make us contemporaries growing up. Our generation had only three television channels, there were no computers, and the only gaming devices we had were what we made, dug, or built. We played and worked in something called the outdoors. It was our world, and what a vast, wonderful world it was. It was a place where a home construction site became anything we wanted it to be, a palace, a haunted house, a cave, or a fort that had to be taken by force. Often, the scene would change in mid-game, and we would never miss a beat. Scrap lumber and a few straightened nails banged together with a rock provided us with swords, guns, and dollhouses. With the same scrap, we built tree houses that expanded until we reached branchs that would not hold us, someone would fall, and that would be our limit, but we dreamed of going farther, and often did.

           Yes, we got hurt. We broke bones, got bloody noses (you cannot attack a fort without some loss), stepped on nails, scraped elbows and knees, never stopping to clean or bandage them. That would come later. The amazing thing, in light of today's standards, is that we survived. The wounds recieved in conquering monsters in caves, or rescuing a princess from a tower, or slaying an evil empire in an afternoon, were worn as badges of honor saying, "I gave more than you did."

            Should the weather limit our being out in it, and it had to be a storm of biblical proportions to keep us in the house, there were always books to carry us far away. Yes, we read, and to each other as we shared the adventures living in our heads. In other words, we made stuff up. Whether indoors or out, it did not matter, we made stuff up. We used our imaginations. It was what we had.

            Our type of play required that we conjure up places, and things. We built castles in the sky, traveled around the world, fought a war, played in the world series, were football heroes, married as princes and princesses, had elegant teas with queens and kings, all before daddy got home from work and it was time for supper, and we never left our rooms. If we weren't good at making up adventures, or places to go, we could always tag along on someone elses magic carpet, but even the slowest of us could tell a story and off we would go, all contributing to it as it grew strangely and beautifully from the many minds that stirred the pot with imagination.

            Today's youth never leave their rooms either, but for different reasons.  They don't have to, or want to. Like us, everything they need is right there, but there is a big difference. Where our minds and imagination created our fantasies and stories, children today are given the story. With a game console, they can go and do the things we did, but all the facets of the game are provided and controlled for them, and their adventures are in 3D, and virtual reality. They don't have to imagine a thing.

            Computers are wonderful tools, but can be mind-numbing time suckers, taking children places, some, very dark. Children today are exposed to things I did not know until much later in life. They don't have to imagine, it is right there on a screen being played out in all its gruesome gore and reality.   

            Imagination is power. It is the power to create. Whether it is music, painting, writing, or inventing, before it became solid and real, it started as a thought. It was imagined. I was taught that if I can imagine it, I can do it. If it is in my head as a dream, it can become a reality.

            I do not share the foretold doom of my psychologist friend who showed me where the children's brains of today are not developing as ours did. I believe in the resilience of man. Those among present day children who have been encouraged to use their imagination will rise to the top, and though fewer in number, will lead humankind forward and upward, pushing the tree house to the edge of the branches, and imaging ways to overcome limitations. We will be led into different paths, and different ways, but creativity will continue, and the power of imagination will save us. I can't imagine it any other way… and that is a good thing.

"Come, Let Us Reason Together" The First in a Series Addressing Public Violence

            The holidays are over, the year is ended, and things are settling back into a more reasonable and comfortable groove.  Now is the time for reasonable thinking, planning, and action.

            I have avoided raising my emotionally charged voice to declare my horror at the events of recent weeks.  I have wanted the dust to settle before weighing in on the subject of what happened in Connecticut, and other places. 

            I considered not commenting at all, but a number of people who read this work have urged me to speak up on the issues surrounding this tragedy.  What surprises me are the number of varying opinions of what the problems are and what we should do to solve them. One thing I have learned by sitting back, listening, and waiting for the air to clear, is that the problem of public violence is many-faceted, and the opinions and ideas are all valid. Instead of trying to address all the issues in one column, I will look at the problems over the next few weeks.

            The elephant in the room, when talking about the events in Connecticut specifically and public violence in general, is gun control.  I will wrap myself in the cloak of the Second Amendment, and say in my best drawl, with my pistol packing posture, "Guns don't kill people, people kill people," and I believe, with all my heart, that this is true.  But in light of recent events, I must qualify that with a "yes, but…"

            I have fired thousands of rounds of ammunition through M-16s, AK-47s, and other assault weapons.  I like them, they have saved my life, and I love to shoot them, but they have only one function, and that is to kill people.  It is an evil necessity, but it is there and assault rifles are the tool for it.  Since returning from a war, and having lived in a free country since, I recognize the limitations of assault weapons.

            They are terrible for home defense.  You would not use a screwdriver for a hammer and not expect disastrous results.  The same can be said for using an assault weapon to defend our home.  There are better tools.  Unless a horde of bad guys are storming the manor, I have no use for one.  I hear the argument at gun shows often, "Well, you need to be prepared."  Yes, I agree, and I am.  You come onto my property, or enter my home with evil intent; you will be met with a searing defense, but not from an assault weapon.

            My defense of mine and me is to do so without risking additional harm to us. Operating an assault weapon in close quarters is both ineffective, and dangerous. From experience, I can tell you that when bringing a weapon to bear on a target, the longer the barrel, the longer the time it takes to get it there, and an action is always faster than a reaction. I want a weapon in my hand that moves faster than the bad guy's, and that I have confidence in. I also want my defense to be safe for others in my charge.

            The bad guy does not care where his rounds go. He is trying to do harm, whereas, I am defending, trying to limit his harm, and not cause more. I want to be able to direct my fire to the best effect without injuring my people and property. An assault weapon does not give me the best chance to achieve this end. 

            I am certain that there are many who can recount stories of successful home defenses involving an assault rifle. They were lucky. I know one story where an assault rifle, in the hands of a home defender, was used with disastrous results. In the excitement and fear of the moment, he tripped and fell. The weapon discharged a single round into the ceiling, passing through the upstairs floor, through a stack of books on that floor, through a box spring, a mattress, into and through his daughter, through the ceiling of that room, through the attic above, and out the roof. One such story is enough. Give me a weapon I can control, that will not penetrate walls, producing, as they say, collateral damage. All the "collateral" I care about has names.

            None of us wants to be told what to do by our government, and the Second Amendment was earned by, and sealed with, blood, but the time has come to look at its real intent. We need some limits, and some controls, but an armed society is a polite society. There has to be a reasonable compromise between the right to bear arms and the safety of society. The very weapons we designed to protect the innocents are being used to slaughter them. Something is wrong, and it needs reason, not knee-jerk reaction to solve the problem. Assault weapons have their place, but not in schools, not as hunting weapons, and not in my home.

            This is an unpopular stance, but I take it without apology. I love guns, the Constitution, and the freedom both afford me, but when the guarantees of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are no longer protected, but are taken from any of our citizens by our right to bear arms, something needs to change. Be brave enough to face it, and let us once again, provide an environment absent of fear for those we love to grow up safe.

"Come, Let Us Reason Together" The Second in a Series Addressing Public Violence

            Within the problem of public violence, no issue raises us to the heights of passion, pro or con, as does gun control, which was addressed last week. There is one facet of the problem that has the opposite effect. Shhh! I don't want to hear it, or talk about it. Go away, mental health.

            Years ago, the mentally ill were warehoused, put away from society; out of sight, out of mind. "I don't want to see it, so I will put my head in the sand, or better yet, make the crazy people go away," was society's attitude. Things have improved, yet this attitude is still prevalent. We fear what we don't understand, and for centuries, man has struggled to understand and deal with mental illness, to understand those who are, and how to treat them.

            This fear has caused us to stereotype the mentally ill as being prone to violence where the opposite is true. Quoting from a study by Mental Health Reporting, "Although studies suggest a link between mental illnesses and violence, the contribution of people with mental illnesses to overall rates of violence is small, and further, the magnitude of the relationship is greatly exaggerated in the minds of the general population." Further, "People with psychiatric disabilities are far more likely to be victims than perpetrators of violent crime. People with severe mental illnesses, schizophrenia, bipolar disorder or psychosis, are 2 ½ times more likely to be attacked, raped, or mugged than the general population."

            So where does this perception come from? Quoting again from the same study; "Characters in prime time television portrayed as having a mental illness are depicted as the most dangerous of all demographic groups: 60 percent were shown to be involved in crime or violence. The vast majority of news stories on mental illness focus on other negative characteristics related to people with the disorder. Notably absent are positive stories that highlight recovery of many persons with even the most serious of mental illnesses"  

            There are many among us who have a mental disorder, who are being treated, and no one will ever know them from another. They have families, hold jobs, function in civic and church activities, and are solid citizens. Still, there are many who go undiagnosed and untreated, some of whom are violent. 

            Other studies have shown that the majority of the perpetrators of public acts of violence resulting in mass killings have described their planned actions to a mental health professional, parent, or friend. These same studies have identified behaviors that MIGHT be precursors to violence, but warn that they just as likely are not.

            August 1, 1966, Charles Whitman, a former Marine, and engineering student at the University of Texas at Austin, went to the top of the 28-story tower in the center of the campus, and at noon began an assault on anyone below. Before his rampage was over, Whitman had killed 14 and wounded 32. The mass shooting touched my life, I was there, and changed the consciousness of the country. 

            Whitman had confessed, only days before, to a University psychiatrist that he had fantasized about "going up on the Tower with a deer rifle and shooting people." This event caused legislation to be written in Texas requiring health and education professionals to report any individual who made such remarks that they thought were a danger to themselves or others. It is a judgment call for psychiatrist and others, and is flawed. Some argue that it has the effect of causing those truly sick and having violent thoughts to avoid seeking help.

            Another contributing factor to the mental health problem is a shortage of care. My son is a psychiatrist about to enter the Navy. He was heavily recruited by the service and was told that there are only sixty psychiatrists on active duty at any one time. These are serving the 750,000 comprising the Navy and Marine Corps. Care for the civilian populace is equally inadequate.  According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, there are 23,140 psychiatrists practicing in the United States, in Alabama, only 290.

            The reason so few choose psychiatry is money. Most other doctors are paid on a per procedure basis, whereas, psychiatry is more a flat rate, if insurance pays at all. Submitting an insurance claim creates a permanent record of having sought help for a mental problem, which brings us to the stigma of mental illness.

            We have come a long way from how it was when I served in the military and came home with PTSD issues. Talking to a counselor was unmanly, and job threatening. A retired U.S. Customs Agent related to me how it was unspoken, but known, that if you sought counseling after a shooting incident, you were taken out of the field, and given a desk job.

            The stigma has diminished, but it is still there. Mental illness makes us uncomfortable. We 
understand, and are tolerant of all but the most infectious diseases, but of mental health, there is confusion and fear. Before we can identify those prone to violence, and treat them, we have to create an environment where all feel safe when seeking help with mental problems.         
             I hope you are beginning to see how the problem of public violence is a Rubik's Cube within a Rubik's Cube. Before the issue is solved, and legislation won't do it, all the colors have to be lined up, and there are many, many of them. We will twist the Cube again next week. 

"Come, Let Us Reason Together" The Third in a Series Addressing Public Violence

            The problem of public violence is modern society's Hydra, the creature of Greek mythology with reptilian features, which had many heads. As with the Hydra conquered by Hercules, the cutting off one of the heads of ours gives rise to two more until more than one individual takes strong, quick action. Hercules had his nephew Lolaus to aid him. We have no super hero, or person with super human powers to kill our Hydra as in myth. We have to do it ourselves, and our only weapon is each other.

            Over the previous two weeks, we have identified two heads that need addressing, gun control, and mental health. A third head is the pervasiveness of violence in our society. It is everywhere.

            Watching TV for four hours one night last week, I witnessed twelve murders, some of which were so heinous that my stomach turned. You may say that I am watching the wrong shows, and I will not argue with you, but the majority of American viewers don't agree. These are the top rated shows on television.

            I did not watch these shows from beginning to end. I was switching back and forth from the NFL playoff games where I was able to view even more violence, sanctioned violence, violence that makes football the number one sport in America. Following this bombardment of murder and mayhem offered as entertainment, the local news served me a dose of reality with a story about the murder of an infant, and stories of robbery, and muggings. The national news escalated the violence to war in almost all parts of the globe. There is no escaping it.  

            I do not play video games, and most likely never will, but I have seen their results. In the late eighties, and early nineties, "Dungeons and Dragons" was popular, and became an obsession with many teens, so much so, that two young men that I knew, who were close friends, became so enthralled with the game that it became reality to them. One day they fought with swords from one of their father's collections, and one killed the other. In the aftermath, the survivor told his father that his friend wasn't really dead, but would come back to life tomorrow when they started the game again.

            Video game violence has progressed from "Asteroids" where you shoot invading alien warships, through "Pac-man" where a cartoon head eats things and can be blown up, to now where you can steal cars, mug, rape, murder, and do a host of other violent crime in virtual reality, and the more violent the act, the more points you are awarded. Although the games are rated "M" for mature, they are advertised on TV and available to be rented online by highly impressionable teens.

            I have written here before that violence has been good to me. If I were not more violent than the other guys, I wouldn't be writing today, or anything else for that matter. It would be nice if our fellowman would respect us and leave us alone to pursue happiness as we see fit, but that is the wish, not the reality. Violence is unavoidable in many cases, and after exhausting all diplomatic courses, whether it be in a playground altercation, or one involving nations, there comes a time where we must be willing to fight. I was taught at home to never pick a fight, and to not fight until you have to, but when one comes your way, fight. Such teaching and attitude has served our nation and me well.

            Being willing to be more violent than a tyrant, and to sacrifice all, won our nation's independence, and has protected that hard won freedom, and freedoms of lesser nations for over two centuries. We do not speak German, or Japanese because of our willingness to stand up to bullies and whip them until they leave us alone. As Theodore Roosevelt said, "Speak softly and carry a big stick."

            What do we do about the cancer of violence that eats away at the soul of our society? How can we curb it, and not glorify it? There is a way to kill our Hydra, but it will take more courage than our nation and society have ever had to display. We have never backed down from a problem, and public violence has a solution, and it is a simple, peaceful one, but it will require change, and we fear change.

            Next week, in the final offering in this series, we will explore the root of this problem and the very simple solution to it. I don't think you will be surprised as to what it is. Many of you are already doing it, and doing it well, some are not, but all of us will have to do better, and I warn you, it may be simple, but it is the hardest thing I have ever done.

"Come, Let Us Reason Together" The Fourth and Final in a Series Addressing Public Violence

            The Hydra was the monster of mythology with many heads, that when one was cut off, two more sprang up in its place unless the stub of the missing head was burned, so that no more could grow. It took great strength and courage to kill Hydra.

            Our Hydra, public violence, with its many heads of gun proliferation, mental health, societies' tolerance of violence, video games, and all the heads that will grow when one is lopped off, will, as in myth, take a Herculean effort to kill, but it can be done. Our solution is as simple as slashing and burning, but far more difficult. 

            To implement the solution to our problem of public violence, we have to go back to basics, back to fundamentals. That is what any coach or teacher in any discipline preaches. When you are having a problem, when things are going badly, go back to the basics, the fundamentals. The same principal applies to any aspect of life. When the problem seems insurmountable, go back to basics, the fundamentals.

            What are the fundamentals of society upon which all is built? The family. We have lost our way in society because the basic concept of family has changed. It is time to get back to basics.

            The basic family is a man and a woman, married, with children. In my basic family, my mother was the nurturer, the stay at home parent, while my father was the provider, the one who faced the world every day to make sure we at home were protected and had what we needed to grow and prosper. Society has strayed from this model.

            It began with the desire and quest for material things, which has driven the mother out of the home and into the work place. Young couples are no longer willing to wait, struggle, and sacrifice to build a future and a family. They want it now, thus, the mother works. Not so long ago, the norm was for the father to work and the mother to nurture at home. That is no longer the rule, but the exception.

            I know how hard it is to provide for a family in modern times. I have done it for eight children and thirty-nine years, with five or more to go before the Princesses are grown and gone. Until last year, the Admiral had never worked, and doesn't have to now, but as the Princesses are no longer homeschooled, and I am at home, she has chosen to labor in her field of special education. Being a family with a single provider has not been easy, and we have not had the biggest, the best, or the most, but we have had sufficient for our needs, and enough left over for some wants.

            When number two daughter in the first litter of six, (the Princesses constitute the second litter of two) was getting married, the family was together the night before the wedding. The Admiral and I asked them what they remembered about growing up with us. Their answer was surprising.

            Not one mentioned the cars, the nice house, the boat, or trips we took. To a person, their fondest memories were when we were so poor we couldn't afford to run the air conditioning, so in the evenings, we would load into the beat up Volkswagen bus, strap the canoe on top and go to a creek. There, we would float it, have a picnic, throw the kids into the current and let them float down stream to the end of a sand bar where the Admiral waited, then climb out of the water, run to where I was and do it all over again.

            The bride's memory was different. She recalled a time as a pre-teen when she and I were traveling together by air and I went into a store on the concourse and bought her a rose. I have no recollection of that event, but it is precious to her.

            Regardless of the memory, it wasn't the material things that were important to them, it was the time. The time we spent together as a family, the nurturing they experienced by both parents.

            During that time together, we taught them the basics. They learned discipline by us, and of self. They learned respect for their siblings, which would translate to others outside the family. They learned tolerance. In a family of eight children, each is different, but they respect those differences.

            They did not play video games much, and never of a violent nature, because we as parents were, and are involved in their activities, monitoring what they do. They are taught moral principles and we trust them to make right choices. Should they not, they will be disciplined until they do.

            That is what is missing in our modern society, discipline. I have no fear of any of my children committing public acts of violence. They know respect, tolerance, and discipline, but they have also learned that problems have solutions. Their lives are not perfect, but they know that if the solution to a problem does not come today, it will be worked on tomorrow, or the next day, or maybe the next several days, but there is a solution. They have taken responsibility for the problem. It is no one else's fault.

            Our solution is to get back to fathers presiding over their families in love and righteousness, providing as well as protecting them, and for mothers being primarily responsible for the nurture of their children. Things happen, such as death, illness, and divorce that make this ideal impossible, but whether these roles are strictly adhered to or not, the basic principles of good citizenship and discipline can be taught.

            The solution to public violence does not exist in governments legislating guns, mental health, video games, or anything else. The solution is in your home around the dinner table as parents preside over discussions of daily events and give proper guidance and discipline to the children. If we raise good citizens in the home, public violence, our Hydra, will die, as we no longer feed it. 

Red Ribbon Week

            I admit to ignorance. Until I received notification from the school system, I did not know it was Red Ribbon Week. I did not know there was such a thing, or why. I am thinking that I am not alone.

            Red Ribbon Week is the oldest and largest drug prevention campaign in the country. It generally takes place the last full week in October. This year, Red Ribbon Week is now, October 20 - 28.
            Red Ribbon Week symbolizes a stand for the hopes and dreams of our children through a commitment, both public and personal, to drug prevention and education, with the goal being a drug free America. It also commemorates the ultimate sacrifice made by DEA Special Agent Enrique "Kiki" Camarena, who died at the hands of drug traffickers in Mexico while fighting the battle against illegal drugs.

            Special Agent Camarena grew up in a dirt-floored house with hopes and dreams of making a difference. He worked his way through college, served in the United States Marine Corps and became a police officer. When he joined the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration, his mother tried to talk him out it. "I can't not do this," he told her. "I'm only one person, but I want to make a difference."
            Camarena's eventual assignment took him undercover in Mexico investigating a drug cartel believed to include officers in the Mexican army, police, and government. On Feb. 7, 1985, the 37-year-old Camarena left his office to meet his wife for lunch. Five men appeared at the agent's side and shoved him in a car. One month later, Camarena's body was found in a shallow grave.  
            Within weeks of his death, Camarena's Congressman, Duncan Hunter, and high school friend Henry Lozano, launched Camarena Clubs in Imperial Valley, California, Camarena's home. Hundreds of club members pledged to lead drug-free lives to honor the sacrifices made by Camarena and others. These coalitions began to wear red satin ribbons. Red Ribbon Week emerged from these efforts.
            Today, Red Ribbon Week is nationally recognized, helping to preserve Special Agent Camarena's memory and further the cause for which he gave his life. The Red Ribbon Campaign also became a symbol of support for the DEA's efforts to reduce demand for drugs through prevention and education programs. By wearing a red ribbon during the last week in October, Americans demonstrate their opposition to drugs. They pay homage not only to Special Agent Camarena, but to all men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice in support of the struggle against drug trafficking and abuse.

            This is a worthy cause, but how many of us do not observe it because we think drug usage is a problem that happens to other people? It got me to thinking, what constitutes drug abuse? Is this program only to fight illegal drug trafficking? What about legal drugs that are abused? We know of the horrors of alcohol, but what of others?

            I was in the library and heard two conversations among patrons. Both involved drug use. The first was between elderly women discussing the use of non-steroidal, anti-inflammatory drugs. One lady smugly said to the others, "I take four ibuprofen tablets, four times a day," then in a secretive tone, "sometimes I cheat, and take four an hour."

            I wanted to say something about the damage she was doing to her kidneys, but before I could, my attention was drawn to a group of men where I heard one say, "I have to have about twelve cups of coffee to get me through 'til afternoon." I thought to tell him of the damage caffeine does to his liver as it hammers the organ demanding the release of more sugar to provide that surge of energy, but they walked away before I heard anymore. The incidents got me to thinking about how much addiction is among us from everyday substances we consider harmless.

            I have admitted in this column my addiction to chocolate doughnuts, and I confess that I drink too many diet Dr. Peppers, but what is the harm in that? None, other than the fat and sugar in the doughnuts and the chemicals in the diet drinks. What a hypocrite I am, and perhaps many of us are.

            We celebrate Red Ribbon Week for the prevention of drug abuse and trafficking, but isn't that just one phase of the problem? There is alcohol, tobacco, and prescription drugs that are abused not to mention the examples above. I suggest that we should campaign against addiction of all sorts whether it be working out too much, eating, drinking to excess, or taking over the counter drugs. 

           All of us want to feel better. We can be stimulated, or numbed with little effort, and none of it illegal. After awhile, the buzz, or dulling isn't there and we increase our stimulation to the point that nothing works, then move on to something that does, which may lead to illegal means.  Addictions of all sorts are available to us.

           I suggest that these few days, as we focus our attention on drug abuse and trafficking, that we remember that there are abuses of all sorts of substances, and that addiction is a problem that I believe we all face at one time or another. Point; Red Ribbon week IS about all of us. We may not be trafficking, or abusing illegal drugs, but we are all affected by addiction. Wear your Red Ribbon, but let it remind you to look inward as well as outward.