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The Journal of Tony Whitaker

Saturday Morning in Swiss Elsass
11/15/2008 06:45 a.m.
Sitting here as the dawn breaks on a Swiss Saturday morning I see Sasha, the cat, lying on the rug, sated from the morning ritual feast of canned tuna fish. I hear the clock tick as each second and I sense each one is less of a day in the life of this middle-aged man.

I sense those less fortunate.

I see someone dying a senseless death in the streets. Whether in D.C. of L.A. the story is the same. Some gangbanger earning their stripe into a faceless fraternity of ignorance, where they fell they are somebody. In the end there is only prison or a bullet with their own name engraved into mortal flesh as their last breath escapes into some dark corner of the night.

I see the single mother working their life away to feed their hungry child or to keep on the heat.

I see a man in a hospital bed as they take that last breath. A battle won by the cancer that feeds upon the last days of a life and a death no one wants to face as they leave this world for another.
I see the soldier, back against the wall, waiting for an order taking them into harm’s way so we, as Americans, live free another day, the reality of the moment being some desperate mission, making no sense to a teenager in a uniform with a gun, often a folly of some officer or politician.
So I close with the sunrise as it warms the side of my face to simply say, “Life is precious!”

May your weekend be filled with hope and your needs be granted and your wants considered in the grand scheme of how they affect your family, your friends, your country and the world. Auf Wiedersehen and God Bless America.


I am currently Reflective
I am listening to South City Midnight Lady

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