In the early 90's during what I like to call The Transitional Years, it's a period along the timeline of Ed...  There are many others.  The Formative Years.  The Rebellious Years.  The Religious Years.   I found myself residing in the bedroom where I had grown up.  The same bedroom I had left some years past to make my mark on the world.  I returned home, instead, the world having left it's marks on me.

One particularly sunny afternoon for some, to this day, still unexplained reason I decided that a bike ride was in order.  I hadn't ridden in years.  But I was tired of studying and needed a change of scenery.  Some exercise.  I needed some air and to clear my head.  I needed to get out.   I informed my mom of my intentions.  My mom who had settled into her chair in the living room and sat quietly staring at the television which she had not turned on.  Not that that would have made much of a difference.

He ran, fast.  He had pushed me and I stumbled, otherwise he'd not have made it ten yards before I overtook him.  I wasn't all that fast, but he was horribly slow.  He made it through the Hancock's yard, the Rogers' and around the corner before I tackled him.

"You've got to come home.  Come back!"

I assumed that my mom had followed us when he ran out of the house and would be there any second.  He was going to be in big trouble.  BIG.

My mother spanked.  Hard.  She never used a belt or paddle.  She didn't have to.  I told everyone that her hands were just like leather but they hurt worse.  Old school.  Pants down, lying across her lap.  Legs kicking and me screaming as she wailed away on my lilly-white ass.  God, it stings just to write about it.  Chris was about to bear witness to the stinging reality of my mother's leathery palm.

Unofficially, we are 1-1 and 1. Unofficially, that is because the YMCA does not keep score. However, when a team does score a touchdown they have the option to try a conversion from the two yard line or the five yard line. Therefore the scoring system is as follows:

Touchdown = 6 points.
Extra Point = 1 point from the two yard line (team must pass) 2 points from the 5 yard line (run or pass)
Safety = 2 points.

Huh?

Again, though, the YMCA does not keep score.

Lambs to the slaughter.  What has become of a nation founded by people who were so fed up with the way things were that they fought, literally fought for change?  There was a time when people screamed, "ENOUGH!"  We once believed in a right to speak out, to expose injustices, to enact changes, and fight for what we felt just and true.  Today we are mocked, scorned and dismissed.  Why?  What happened to our voices and what could possibly have enough power to silence them?

Time.  Time has eroded our resolve much like the constant winds and water have eroded a tiny crack in the Arizona desert to form The Grand Canyon.  It didn't happen overnight.  It was the result, year after year, of the pounding forces of wind, water, ice and heat.  Oh I'm sure the rocks resisted initially using all of their collective resolve to keep the faith and stay strong.  But the winds were constant and unrelenting.  As the crack grew, strongholds were lessened and eventually gave way altogether.