What is America's Role in the World?

America Takes a Lesson from the Roman Empire

Augustus Caesar was the founder of the Roman Empire and was its first Emperor. After many wars resulting in the expansion of the Roman Empire, Augustus stood overlooking the glory that was Rome under his leadership. His reign initiated the era of Roman peace known as the Pax Romana. The wars had been bloody and no quarter shown to neither the enemy nor their people as Rome sprawled across the known world. They paid for their attacks upon Rome with their lands, their blood and that of their people. The realization that followed was the cold resignation that they were now standing on land owned by the Empire of Rome. 

By this opening, I am not advocating total world domination and the establishment of an American Empire. But neither do I pretend there is any other way to achieve lasting stability in the world. We have fought wars long enough in our time upon this earth to know the natural laws of warfare. You can not invade a nation, cripple it, leave its resources intact and then leave. Within your lifetime, you will see that nation rise up and threaten you again and with more vengeance than before. In the act of your good intent you have made the deaths of those that fought your war in vain. And you place those that must now return to fight the enemy in harm’s way. 

Germany was left with its sovereignty intact after WWI. The world watched as it rebuilt itself into a superpower that threatened every country around it. Everyone that had fought and died to put Germany down in WWI had died in vain. Everyone that died in WWII putting Hitler's Germany down for the second time died needlessly. Again, I am not advocating war in any form. I'm simply clarifying that although our perception of war may change, the nature of war does not. 

History has shown us that war is a Pandora's Box that now opened will plague man throughout his existence until either one of two things take place: The total conquest and continuing control of all nations at war by the strongest power lasting until no one alive remembers war; Or the mutual agreement of peace by all nations as a result of the imminent threat of extinction. For America, one or the other is certain in our future. Left to continue as it is, war is certain to spread until it threatens mankind's existence. As history repeats itself, America's role should only be as a negotiator for peace once the warring nations have exhausted themselves fighting. 

By all means our efforts should be in building our defenses for self preservation but not as a world police force. This has proven costly and counter productive in every scenario since the Vietnam War. The images and reports that return to us from these regions are heart breaking and we feel we should do something. But until they want peace for themselves, there is nothing realistic that can be done.

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Above and Beyond

Drunk Driving Affects Officers as Well

The deputy shoves me hard over the front of his cruiser and cuffs my hands together. I turn around and lean against the car. He instructs me to stay as he questions my wife. The blue lights flash in my bloodshot eyes as passing cars slow down to see what is happening. The remains of my car are scattered into the battered tree line. The deputy knows she was driving, the witnesses have already told him. But my statement doesn't match the witnesses. I continue to insist I was driving which was complicating his job. She was obviously intoxicated and open containers were found in the car. The officer is arguing with my wife to get her to admit to being the driver. I slump forward and collapse to the ground. I tasted thick blood in my mouth before losing consciousness. 

Deputy Chad Powell was sitting by me when I woke up in the hospital. The force of the impact had torn the lining of my stomach. This was as a result of my seat belt binding me and my precarious position at the time of impact. The bright red rash caused by the seat belt was proof I was not the driver. Chad looked at me with a somber expression. "If I had believed you, I'd have taken you to jail 20 miles away from the closest hospital and you would have died. I know you pulled her from the driver's seat just before impact. The tree stabbed through the driver's seat. So she would have died. The only way your story would be true is if you were dead now in the driver's seat impaled by a tree."

I admitted to nothing but my wife had already confessed to being the driver. But Chad Powell wanted something else from me. He wanted something I was not ready to give anyone. He visited me every day while I was in the hospital and even left his home number to my mother. I resented this. I had no love for law enforcement and neither did my family. But by this time, my mother had exhausted all means of reaching me. The thought of my own mother potentially turning me into the police infuriated me and I ended contact with her. 

My wife and I continued to have law enforcement come to our apartment as our marriage descended into madness and ruin. Each time the Sheriff's Department was called Chad was there on the scene. He even showed up when he was off duty. I perceived it as a personal vendetta he had toward me. Sometimes officers take it upon themselves to do such things. Each time he put me in the back of his cruiser I got a lecture from him. He asked me if this was what I wanted for my life. He knew my sordid family history, my time in military service and even my college courses. Deputy Chad Powell had done his homework and I felt the weight of his influence. He informed me that my mother was worried about me and cried to him. I kicked the cage separating us in his cruiser to get him to stop talking. 

Each court date I was to appear before the judge Deputy Chad Powell was there. He nearly had me denied bond on one of my pending charges related to a prior DUI. I was found not guilty of the charge and my attorney cited harassment against Deputy Powell. I smiled at Chad as I passed by him leaving the courtroom. It was possible I could get him fired and he knew it. He looked back at me with an expression of strengthened resolve but said nothing. 

I had decided to separate from my wife. I had not been rehabilitated of my ways but could not afford another fine or court case. All was well for a few weeks until she returned to my apartment and broke through my kitchen window. I had been drinking alone and she had been drinking all night. Our heated exchange spread into the parking lot and the Sheriff's Department was called. A deputy took my wife and Chad took me. He was in plain clothes and had nothing to charge me with. I smiled as I told him, "I'll have your badge for this." 

It quickly occurred to me that he wasn't taking me to jail but driving away from town. I assumed it was time for Deputy Chad and me to come to blows. I asked him if he was sure he wanted it to come to this. He said nothing as he pulled into a darkened church parking lot. He exited the car and opened my door and walked ahead into the cemetery to the side. I exited the cruiser and peered around mildly confused. I saw he had stopped at a headstone. I stepped beside him and read the name on the headstone. It reads, David R. Powell. 

Chad explained to me his younger brother would be my age. He was addicted to cocaine and drank heavily. One night he drove his car over an embankment and flipped three times. His vehicle was unrecognizable but he appeared to be unharmed as the highway patrol arrived. They leaned him against the patrol car awaiting the ambulance and moments later he slumped over and collapsed to the ground. He died on the scene. Chad explained I had done the exact same thing the night of my accident. And he couldn't allow me to meet the same end as his brother. "I don't know why I took you on as a personal project. I guess I saw so much of David in you. I couldn't save my brother so I guess I'm trying to save you. I'll take you back home now and you can do what you want." 

Deputy Chad Powell was one of the people in my life that helped me make a change. I have come to realize that drunk driving doesn't only affect the drivers and the loved ones killed as a result. It affects the officers that arrive on the scene as well. 

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A Coming Storm

One Night in the Embrace of Hurricane Katrina

The news had reported Katrina had done more than just batter the New Orleans. The storm hit the old city like a freight train leaving behind devastation, flooding and death. I had seen several hurricanes reach Meridian, Mississippi in my lifetime but this one I was old enough to remember. I had spent much of my teens hating this town. I felt trapped by it. But as I found peace within myself, I had come to love my home and my community. As the headlines promised Katrina's arrival I feared for my home and my community. 

Meridian is known for her rolling hills. We actually live in a small valley near the top of one of the highest peaks in Meridian. Just above my house where the road meets Highway 19 you can sit there and look southward for miles. I sat on the hood of my car and watched as she approached. The power had been shut down at the main grid a day before Katrina's arrival to reduce the risk of fire. So the town already had an eerie feel. The streets were empty and the stores closed mid day. No one but law enforcement and emergency personnel were allowed on the streets. I had signed up at the local EMS as a licensed EMT and received the sticker for my car. I hadn't worked in EMS for a long while but I kept my license current. The hour was drawing near and my community braced for a hard impact. It was as if we were preparing for an air raid. 

I worked at the Howard Johnson Inn as the night desk clerk. Every room of every hotel had been reserved in advance for the power company. They had combined the resources of every facility in the surrounding area to send trucks and personnel to the area and ride the storm out with us. The mayor promised they would begin restoring power the moment the storm passed over us. The trucks never made it. The mayor had underestimated Katrina. Even with the reports of the crippled city of New Orleans still coming in, our mayor assured us emergency services were prepared. 

A convoy of power company trucks was deployed at key locations in the surrounding counties awaiting instruction. The logistics of moving so much equipment and personnel at one time had bogged down the poorly planned effort. The resources were available but had no where to go. 30 power company trucks and over 100 employees sat in the small community of Waveland, Mississippi. Katrina wiped the entire community of Waveland off the face of the earth. All 30 of the power trucks had been lost. 

The sky toward the south had become dark and thunder rolled in the distance. She seemed to come in slowly. The contrast between the clear blue sky above and the black storm cloud below was quite beautiful. The ground beneath her was dark. Highway 45 north extended toward me from this direction. Cars were driving at speeds well in excess of 100 miles per hour attempting to outrun the storm. As she approached the tops of the trees beneath her began to twist and even miles away you could hear them snapping like toothpicks. The scene resembled a massive armored tank crushing the earth beneath it. My hand held radio issued a final warning. "All EMS Personnel report to your stations and to wait out the storm! We can't go out once it gets here." 

I was stationed at my front desk where I worked. It was the most logical place for me. None of the power company employees had made it in so I planned to provide rooms for the flood of evacuees that would surely be coming in. They were already pouring in from the highway when I arrived. We provided the rooms for free but took the names of everyone arriving to keep a head count. Following this storm people were going to want to know where to find their families. The sky grew dark gray and an eerie sound like a howling wolf echoed across the sky. 

The wind began to pick up and I stood with the evacuees in the hotel lobby has the tall Texaco sign across the street began to lean into the wind. This sign was atop a large steel and concrete post embedded firmly in the ground. It took the wind less than 20 minutes to snap this sign in half and send it crashing into the convenience store below. People said the wind sounded like a train. I don't think they were near where we were. The wind did not sound like anything we had ever heard before. It sounded to us like a growling beast and the children in the lobby were terrified by it. It groaned hungrily outside and it made you feel like prey being searched out by a massive animal. As the night progressed this feeling the storm somehow had benevolent intent only got stronger. 

The wind came in bands increasing in intensity then abruptly stopping into sheeting rain. With the passing of each band we began to hear something like a large cannon being fired repeatedly. It literally shook the walls of the hotel. I took a flashlight went to the top floor to investigate. At the south corner of the building the roof was being lifted by the wind and slammed down again. The concrete wall was cracked by the force of each hammering fall. I evacuated everyone from the top floor and closed it off. By this time everyone inside was huddled in the lobby on the north face of the building. 

My car was parked facing into the force of the wind. I hadn't thought to park it in front. I stared in disbelief as the wind picked the front of my car up with its front tires barely touching the pavement. The growling beast continued to howl with increasing force. My car began to glide smoothly across the parking lot then came to rest against the far embankment. Before this some in the hotel had considered leaving to drive further north. Seeing my car moved by the force of the wind ended such notions. 

A patrol car appeared on the street approaching our hotel. The wind was increasing again. We had timed the bands of driving wind by now and knew it had not reached its peak. I tried desperately to reach the officer over my radio, but all communication had stopped shortly after the arrival of the storm. It was too late for him to go anywhere. The wind began to batter the patrol car. Where he was on the street provided him no protection from the flying debris. Bricks, metal and glass scoured the vehicle and we could hear it impacting the passenger side. This window was shattered and then the car was pushed over the shoulder of the street into a depression. The officer was trapped out there and I felt I had to help him. 

We had the bands of wind timed perfectly now. I felt confident I could reach my car and go to the officer and return in time to beat the next wave. I left my radio with the evacuees and told them to continue calling for the officer to let him know I was coming. I wasn't sure if our transmission was even getting out. 
I quickly got into my car and sped out of the parking lot I reached the place where the patrol car had slid off the street. I was running out of time. If the officer was injured I would have no time to retrieve him. Thankfully he appeared from his passenger side and I went down to help him up the side. Once safely in my car I glanced to my right and saw the entire hillside behind the hotel had been stripped of every large pine tree that had once stood there. The rain began to drive sideways again and I floored the accelerator. I parked in front of the hotel no and hoped we would be able to reach the lobby again. The next band was upon us. 

The officer was given a blanket and towels to dry off. Everyone huddled around him as he spoke. He said he had no choice but to attempt the drive over. The location where he was posted had been gutted by the force of the wind and it was no longer safe to stay there. His eyes widened as the loud booming concussion rang out through our hotel. We told him it was the roof being torn away. 

As we sat in the lobby wrapped in blankets the officer continued to try to reach someone on the radio. We had settled in and peered out at the devastation. Shortly after midnight there had been a calm and we wondered if we had survived the storm. The radio came back to life long enough for the voice to warn us the eye of Katrina was passing over. No one should attempt to come out just yet. 

Morning came and the light of day revealed a torn and battered city. Entire structures were gone and fallen power lines lay in the streets. Shutting off the power earlier had been a very good idea. Vehicles were toppled and crushed underneath the debris of trees and wreckage. I wanted to get to my mom. We all wanted to get to our loved ones. The entire south corner of the hotel's rooftop was gone and every window on the south portion of the building blown out. 

I drove as far up our road as I could before reaching a point where old growth oaks had been torn from their roots and dropped into the road. I walked the rest of the way to my mother's home. Our neighbor's home was badly beaten all her windows were gone and I could see her furniture had been blown to the rear of her house. I stepped through her large window and called out to her. Beneath the pile of her furniture and broken glass I could faintly hear her voice calling out. I moved the debris thinking she was trapped or injured underneath. She had gone down into her basement and the door had been pinned shut. To make matters worse the house had shifted and her water line broke flooding her basement. She spent the night huddled at the top of her basement stairs with water knee high beneath her. The water had been shut off as well but what remained in the lines emptied into her basement. I helped her out and made sure she was okay. I promised to return once I checked on my mother. 

I was relieved to see my mother and several neighbors sitting comfortably on her porch. The location of our home in the valley between the hills had blocked her home from the brunt of the wind. Neighbors atop the hill had come down to sit out the storm with her. They had made a camping scene of sorts and even had steaks on the grill. The neighbors had returned to their homes and returned with whatever food they could find. We expected it would be days before power was restored and the food would have ruined anyway. They were making plates of grilled steak, chicken and pork and wrapping them in tin foil. I joined the team of neighbors clearing our road with chainsaws. We cut the fallen trees into firewood and left it piled at the roadside with a painted sign to others to take what they needed. By midday, everyone on our little road had a plate of food and clean gallons of clean water. We stayed without power for seven days. But thankfully no one in our town had lost their lives. 

During those seven days following Katrina we had come to accept life without power. We visited each other and shared our resources. We sat on our porches and talked under the stars swatting mosquitoes and sipping warm beer. There was almost a feeling of disappointment when the power did return. We began to rebuild and life returned to normal. 

Our first power bill was actually higher than usual even though we had been completely without power for seven days. The local East Mississippi Power Association supervisor was hauled before the City Council to explain. He said a power surge had been to blame for the nearly 40% spike in everyone's power bill. Someone in the crowd yelled that looters were supposed to be shot! I smiled as the nervous supervisor assured everyone they would receive a full refund. Meridian, Mississippi had returned to normal. 

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Previously Posted on FullofKnowlege.com

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We Need a Button to Change the World

We Can Do That!

Often I see my friends posting billboards related to current political issues on my social media pages. More so, these billboards spur comments and thread that can sometimes reach hundreds of replies. People are more politically aware than we have ever been before. And we talk about these issues daily. If our voices really matter, why are we not using the internet to affect the changes we need? 

I asked my Facebook friends to weigh in their opinions on a "Facebook Button" that would petition our government representatives and let them know how we really feel about the decisions they are making that affect our lives and our country. The responses were not surprising, however, the volume of responses were overwhelmingly surprising. The polls are in and my friends want the Facebook Button! But do Americans everywhere else want it as well? 

The premise seems simple enough. As the current outdated system stands today, important issues being considered by congress are relayed to us on the news and we all chat about it. If it affects us strongly enough we call our representatives and get his/her answering machine. After that, if we still feel strongly about the issue we try to gather up as many signatures as we can to petition our representatives by a process of buying airtime on local stations or knocking on doors. By the time our voice is heard the vote has already submitted. Unless you can afford a lobbyist, your chance of actually influencing anything government does in real time is slim to none. If this really is a government ran for the people by the people why is it so difficult for our voices to be heard? 

As I have mentioned in an earlier article, we are not using the internet to its fullest potential. Social media is where a great many of us are discussing these issues and a simple online petition system would not be difficult to put into place. It was easy enough to install a way to submit our tax information online using a digital signature. It would seem to be just as simple to have a way to petition our representatives in real time to ensure we actually are being heard. 

I can't really pat myself on the back for this idea because there would be ramifications of a system like this. The president would be more inclined to address the nation rather than congress to approve military action funded by our tax dollars. Any moves made by representatives directly in opposition of the people they were elected to represent would gravely affect their chances of re-election. Lobbyist would no longer wield the power to influence our representatives with wealth and political gifts. The ramifications of a real time petition system would bring our government back to the way it was always intended to be by our founders. For the first time in our nation's history, all Americans have the means to directly connect with our elected government leaders as easily as we do everyone else. 

"This would be wonderful but wouldn't it be too much on the system?" --- Terrie Allen 
This system would not be a simple polling that can be easily dismissed as circumstantial. It would be a link to a valid and binding petition submitted officially directly to our representatives. The social media page itself would only be the host for our petition button displaying the issue being petitioned. A real time petition system is not just a reasonable suggestion but would resolve the disconnect between the people and our government. 

"I think this would be a great idea. But I don't see social media sites hosting conservative Ideas" --- Jason Hannah. 
While it has been a concern in the past for conservative parties getting the access they need to the permits and legal required to validate their political organizations. The petitioning system would eliminate that as well. The need to form groups to get your message out would no longer be necessary. And the issues being petitioned could be either liberal or conservative. The petitioning site would be separate and perhaps even moderated by our government to ensure against fraud. And on this note, if the issue of petition tampering did arise we'd know we were doing something right! 

A few have hoped to affect change by leaking government information to us. I suggest real change will only result from all of us leaking information to our government. And a real time online petitioning system would be more than a leak. It would provide each and every one of us a real voice in the actions of our government. 

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The Care and Feeding of Your Article Farm

If You Don't Care For Your Farm, It Will Not Produce.

It's an unflattering term, 'Article Farm'. It draws to mind thousands of lowly writers huddled together in cramped, unsanitary conditions tapping away at their keyboards for mere pennies a month. The advertisers get leads and sell their products, the corporation gets the ad revenue, and the writers get just enough to buy a cup of coffee to stay awake to keep pecking away.

I have been chastised for my naughtiness as a writer as many times as I have received accolades. I can't help myself, it's part of who I am to jump my fenced enclosure and get into the beautiful editors pastures. I'm promptly returned to my place but, take your eye from me for a moment, and I'm out again chasing my publishers. On the article farm, corporations don't fit in. They don't appreciate their livestock and are especially irritated at typists like myself. In corporate article farming you, as a writer, are a production line by product and your thoughts are a commodity. Nothing more.

There was once a Utopian concept of this industry operated by a small mom and pop team. Everyday they entered into the farm and spoke with us and gave us encouragement. We were well cared for, no one took more than their fair share and everyone benefited. Our keyboards were sleek in design and our minds sharp and agile. We produced the best content and eager consumers rallied to read our new and unique perspective of the current events. The mom and pop were very happy. And we were as well. Until they sold us to the corporation and moved to Barbados.

Slowly our conditions began to go down hill, we were fed less and less and expected to produce more and more. Our content suffered as a result and those troublesome writers like me led to slaughter. I escaped my confines for one last time and wandered the lonely hills and valleys until I found another small and happy farm. The owners are gentle and encouraging and their contributors are happy and talented. I often wonder how my old beloved masters would react if they witnessed the conditions of their writers under the cold hand of the corporations. I can only hope my current home at Full of Knowledge never sells out as well. Time will tell.

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Previously Posted on FullofKnowlege.com

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