I will forever remember at what point on September 11th, caused me to completely break down, what part totally crushed my soul.
The attacks as watched from my basement room at my parent’s house were frightening yet somehow distant in the beginning. All were seen thru the view of CNN and ABC World News.
I awoke to the buzz of my first cell phone, that chunky old original Nokia that everyone had. My Best friend Jamie called. She said "turn on the T.V. RIGHT NOW" at about 9:10, and that a large commercial plane had “accidentally” crashed into a massive tower in downtown NYC. I’m from Kentucky so the WTC’s were not all that familiar to me in my teens. Little did I know that they were clear symbols of our nation’s economy which I would watch plummet to the ground in the minuets soon to come. We watched “live” as the second plane quietly came onto the screen and caused the most horrific mass destruction that I have ever witnessed. All on live T,V. later I could see people jumping from the broken windows of the tower as they decided that they would rather hit concrete 90 stories below than be boiled alive by burning jet fuel. We at this moment realized what everyone else was realizing. This was no accident.
Over the ensuing hours, and eventually days, Peter Jennings became a member of the family. He sat in our living room with us and told us stories, and related the latest info. We took our bathroom breaks together. We got coffee together. We got emotional together. No news anchor has ever stepped out of the “talking head“ roll as much as Peter did during his 24/7 coverage of this tragedy.
Throughout my life I have talked a lot, a whole lot, but on that day there just wasn’t anything to say. I knew that this was a time to listen. Listen to reporters. Listen to survivors (what few were there). Listen to rescue workers who only offered tears streaming down ash caked faces. Every inch of me felt magnetized to ground zero. My soul needed to be there, to help, to witness first hand the unbearable chaos, and to pick up where those fallen heroes had left off. Someone had to continue sorting thru the piles, and I would have done it till I couldn’t move. I felt a drive I’d never felt before and I wouldn’t have known how to stop...or what to do with myself when the task was done. I never have made it to NYC post 911, never stood amidst the rubble, and will forever have a longing in my soul to rest my feet, and be in the place where the towers fell, where so many bodies separated from soul. But my heart had not yet shattered. Not until that evening as the sun set on this city forever changed, blanketed in smoke and ash. The evening when the media turned it’s focus to massive crowds of citizens all clinging to a desperate hope, holding missing persons signs with pictures and descriptions of their missing and probably dead loved ones, that no one was ready to believe to be gone. All signs through my eyes read “This is my big sister, she took the subway to work this morning and her 2 children and husband will never see mommy again.”, another read “Here is my 24 year old fire fighting son, have you seen him”. I lost it...totally and completely lost it. Every poster and missing person was another angel gone now into the graceful hands of God, and that offered me absolutely NO comfort at all. I wept until my face hurt. How does one deal with such mass suffering on their door step. The idea of rallying around the flag and marching off to war only serves to smear this horrific event with the hate of our own and endless revenge. But how do you forgive for an event like this? Benefit concerts and T-shirts and media...soon Kroger will have a sale on burgers for Patriot day cookouts. We will have to explain to our children what happened that day, and I will never have the same thoughts when I stand downtown and see a plane in the sky. The words “September 11th” will hold no meaning to my children. But I can never forget, will never forget, what happened on a beautiful sunny fall morning when tragedy struck, and New Yorks finest rushed into where everyone else was running out.

Graham E. Bain

09-11-2008

Both in the spring of 2003 and 2004, I had the opportunity to travel to Nicaragua with Heifer Project International (H.P.I.)and be apart of a hand's on project. What you need to know right off the bat is that H.P.I. rarely involved in actual "hands on" mission style trips and typically only sends volunteers overseas for what they call study or observation. I was fortunate enough to be involved in one of the very few actual hands-on trips H.P.I. ever did the first year i went to Nicaragua. By hands on I mean we were immersed in a single community and worked directly with this community to complete specific projects. The second year we traveled around to 4 or 5 project sites that were in different stages of the H.P.I. process and learned first hand how the program works and sustains itself.

Heifer Project International is an organization that focuses very strongly on not only assisting entire communities in third world countries, but also the sustainability of there projects. Most missions and organizations will enter a community and donate money and or time, H.P.I. founders noticed that in most situations these short term fixes leave communities worse off in the long run. These donations and other forms of assistance helped to make daily life better for a while but did not give individuals within the community the tools they needed to survive and prosper.

The basis of each H.P.I. project consist of 3 steps.

One - Evaluation and planning,

This is when project officials meet within a community and decide what type of livestock would best suit the environment, train community members on the raising and upkeep of such livestock, and sometimes even help with work projects to make the land more sustainable (Ex. planting tree's, erosion control). Due to H.P.I.'s strong stance on sexual equality, prominent females are typically the ones chosen for livestock training.

Two – Arrival of live stock -

When the first of the livestock starts to arrive, H.P.I. will monitor the community for the first season and assist with any issues that they may have associated with upkeep,

Three – Passing on the gift.

This step is what makes H.P.I. the success it is today.

“Every family and community that receives assistance promises to repay their “living loan” by donating one or more of their animal’s offspring to another family in need(this may be a family with-in their own community, or a surrounding community that is just beginning a project). This practice of “Passing on the Gift” ensures project sustainability, develops community, and enhances self-esteem by allowing project partners to become donors. Thus changing the long term outlook of communities around the world”

Reference: http://www.heifer.org/site/c.edJRKQNiFiG/b.201547/?msource=google

Now that I've quoted the website to you 3-4 times I'll tell you about my personal experience.

The first year we went, I was sick as a dog by the time we got to Managua, the capitol of Nicaragua. Believe it or not out of my two trips to Latin America, the food in the Huston airport upset my stomach more that anything else. Odd as it sounds the first thing I noticed about this new country was the smell. As soon as I stepped off the airplane I could smell smoke, and hear roosters. The majority of the houses in Managua still use wood burning stoves yet do have running water and electricity, and as of 2008 Managua was declared free of illiteracy. However surrounding villages and citys as far a 30 min away are often completely cut off from this advanced urban style society.

The Village of Colama, is where we spent most of our time on both trips. Colama by land is about the distance from here, to Valley Station, Yet the typical trip from where we were staying to the village took 2 - 2 1/2 hours, mainly due to the condition of the washed out roads. The closest contact villagers at Colama had to another community was a 9 mile walk down a dusty rut filled dirt road. Colama is a hilltop home to about 60 families,with each typical family unit consisting of anywhere from 6-10 or 12 people. The whole community was approximately 450-500 people. Unfortunately the age demographics do not include anyone in there teens and 20's or 30's as these individuals all typically leave to come to the either the states or other latin american countries to earn income to send back to the families. This makes it very hard to do renewal projects with your target age group completely gone. Yet on both trips the physical work done typically had something to do with the safety and well being of the younger children. The first year, we helped the school children bag tree seedlings to plant in the schoolyard and an adjacent hillside. The children were told that they were the “Godparents” to these trees, since in latin american culture the role of the Godparents is to assist with protection and growth. Upon returning the next year, we found out that the children had not only stuck with their individual trees, but had named them and had returned EVERYDAY to their particular trees to water them. In one year, the trees that we had planted from seed, were over 10-15 feet tall. I'll allow you make your own biblical connection here. Another important project within the village of Colama was the need for clean running water. The pigs and goats (which were not Heifer livestock but food sources) within the village were allowed to intermingle with the community residentes and shared the same water supply. Therefore the animal excrement was contaminating not only the water, but also every tiny scrape and cut received by the the children as they played. The water and contamination issues were not typical Heifer project's, but our group did a lot of education within the community regarding antibiotics, sanitary cooking and cleaning, hand washing, and the need for containment of the livestock away from the areas where children were playing. We helped build a stone pig pen, and spend a lot of time in the villages newly built 3 room medical facility applying antibiotic to the children's sometimes 2 and 3 inch deep infections, and teaching the parents important preventative care.

I went to Nicaragua with the mindset that I might be able to physically help...to help build,...to be an extra set of hands...use my muscle. I was surprised by how many things I was able to give these people thru simple conversation, even though we didn't speek the same language!!! Colama villagers were very smart but I was so excited by how much more I was able to give to them than I originally thought. Thru visual examples and simple hands on work, we were able to completely transformed the way the community viewed disease and infection control. We got them well on their way to running water, and Through the work of the local H.P.I. by our second trip the community had 54 head of cattle, and had passed on 13 of the offspring to other local projects.

And so...

“This is Heifer’s sustainable approach to ending hunger and poverty –

one family,

one animal at a time.

It’s not temporary relief.

It’s not a handout.

It’s about securing a future with multiple generations of people who have hope, health and dignity.”

"-The attempt to impose upon man, a creature of growth and capable of sweetness, to ooze juicily at the last round the bearded lips of God, to attempt to impose, I say, laws and conditions appropriate to a mechanical creation, against this I raise my swordpin-"

Happy Hour Ends In Boxer/Brief Clad Gang Fight

Went to saddle ridge with the wife and some of our friends/co-workers last night, they got shitty drunk at happy hour and I somehow ended up in my under ware getting chased by gangsters on the waterfront. Just another fine example that BAD BAD things happen to you when you are sober. Oh I've learned from my mistake.

So to start, because I ramble, and there's no WAY that top paragraph is enough explanation of last night. Jess and I hit Saddle Ridge at 6:15 maybe 6:20, my wife who only drinks on occasion was L.I.T. by 7, that's right 7. ...And in the bathroom graciously giving back to the earth not 10 minuets later. But she's a trooper!!! She was still down to party...all...night.

We hung around 4th st, until the strippers got up and started dancing in the bar, that was a pretty clear indication that happy hour was over and sad hour was about to begin, this was no longer an "after work festivity" and everyone was "very drunk". There were admitted multiple plots to hook two of the co-workers up with one another. It was time to go.

It took us way to long to try to get everyone to the elevator and when we finally did it literally refused to take us to the right floor!!! The elevator had a personal vendetta with Mandy and desperately wanted to lock her inside it's steel jaws and entrap her while laughing like a maniac.
Andy was virtually IMPOSSABLE to wrangle to the car, (which we had to walk to, have you ever WALKED UP a parking garage?) He kept rabidly ranting about this insidious urge he had to walk by the river.

Andy: "cummon guuuies les go walkin by tha RIVER!!...We gotta go to the RIVER. Wudnt egh be fun ta gooo walk by the RIVER!!!"
and so forth, and so on.

At this point we were approached by security, who i ensured that I was sober (WTF?) and that we were happely leaving his nice quiet parking garage as soon as we could find the FREAKIN CAR.

So to apease Andy we headed to the waterfront, at which point we all decided to go swimming in the fountains. What a blast. Thats all I'm saying about that. You don't need to know much more, I ended up in my under ware in the fountain.

We were pulling things together and heading back to the car, when G-Dogg-Thug-Homie BASTARD comes barraling down the road in his Cadalic and nearly hit my wife while we were standing by the car. I steped out in the road and fussed at him to slow down and watch were he was going, at which point the car swerves and pulls over, two black men hop out and proceed to track me and andy down, with the definate intent to start some SERIOUS SHIT. Well I've never been one to back down to a good fight, O wait YES I HAVE. I ran...like a schoolgirl...In my underware...sokeing wet...sober as a hindu friggin cow. But were all safe, theres a lil more to tell but you just had to be there, and perhaps it's better forgotten at this point anyway.

So what did we do next?
DRENCHED,
regaining our wits after a gang war,
still buzzing a little.

We went to Waffle House
I put my pants on in the parking lot,
we driped all over the floor,
Andy after airing out his wet dollar bills for the waitress, put on his wet black dress socks on, at the diner table, while loudly apoliguising to the table across from us and explaining our adventures.
Chocolate chip waffels and Coffee.
Everybody returned safley to their cars,
Sleep.

I bet I feal more hung over than anyone else and I didn't ever drink, I'm at work at 745 A.M.
but I've learned from my mistakes.
and so forth, and so on.

Jezuspizza when will the managers learn not to send out companywide e-mails about the corn hole tournament being held behind the garage this afternoon.
I can audibly hear people laughing while sending back and forth e-mails in reply to one another that say such things as:
“Corn hole? Like there not fucking us hard enough already!!!”
Or
“Corn hole...behind the garage.....That’s what she said!!”
But she never said that.
Or perhaps the old favorite,
“Company Corn hole, isn’t that a double negative.”

Thought there are a few women at this company that I’m sure could really toss a sack. And that’s not a sexist statement either. There’s plenty of men at this company that know their way around a sack too. Anyway...enough about testicles, I’m getting off topic.

So perhaps there’s a generation gap here and our forefathers didn’t experience the same so called “social pressures”(bullshit cop-out as-it-may-be) Perhaps there is a generation wide disease affection all of us, but am I alone to suggest that to play corn hole enjoyably* one must consume a certain amount of ethyl based alcohol?

*(enjoyable is used in this context as an extension of fun, a duration. It is quite obvious that one can have “fun” while playing corn hole sober, however to play for an extended time and for the events to remain enjoyable, in this context it is suggested that alcohol consumption is a must.)

So, to conclude, this sentence will have too many commas, but that’s O.K. because I’m just not sure exactly, how to end it, and that’s not an issue, however…

I'll never smoke weed with Willie again,

OK so I've never smoked with Willie, but I'll never drink Budweiser with Zach again, especially after eating at the La Rosita taco stand.
The food was AMAZING, however after a night of hanging out and watching movies and drinking Budweiser which does not wanna sit well with the particular hot sauce I ingested
(I'll never make that mistake again),
my esophagus feels as though NAPALM would actually cool it!!!
Holy cow, and I'm drinking coffee, cause...well I'm not the brightest tool in the pencil box.
I did how ever discover in my altered state what the best thing since sliced bread is though. but I'll save that for another day.
And by the way...sliced bread...not so cool... Just a thought there.


So I was walking the Iguana when the farmer looked over and said, "Not today Buck, not today"


And on top of all that hullaballou, friggin Paul Newman is gonna die, and quite frankly I'm upset about this.

Prayer For Coexistent Unity

Acceptance is finally near,
Trumpets of love I can hear,
Tolerance of each other, not fear.
Along the dusty road.

The sounds of despair shall pass,
Peace shall grow like grass,
No barrier of hate shall last.
On mountain high nor valley low.

Child of God, come one or all,
Together we stand, together we fall,
My hand and yours shall tear the wall.
As one we'll carry the load.

And as the world continues to turn,
Bridges we've walked on will fall and burn,
Lessons in life we all will learn,
Yet together hand in hand we shall go.

On the day of my birth, April 3rd, after the fireworks were over, long after the festivities settled and folks headed back to their caves...

A she wolf named Darhma cradled me under the crescent moon and whispered the lullaby that is my name, softly, sweetly,

Surrender me to the night,
Angels spread wings and take flight,
This moment as any is right,
Carry me to a land of clean sight.

The trees did nothing,
the wind did not blow,
the earth did not shake,
no one cared.

And what a beautiful thing that is.

I have absolutely nothing witty or funny to say so feel free to stop reading this at any point you like. Very much enjoying the new position at the local music store in which I work. Lots of exciting opportunity's. Thinking of putting together an actual band......maybe. So anyway. I've got nothing else, just figured it had been to long since the last entry, but whats it matter anyway when no one is reading it.
GB

Maybe I'm crossing the line here. But I want EVERYONE that reads this to know I'm ABSOLUTELY FED-UP with e-mails of this nature. People to quickly forget that the Native Americans were perfectly happy before we brought them smallpox and the industrial revolution. We are all immigrants to this country. Who the HELL do we think we are to call for the government to "Clean Up The Bird Feeder" How appalling and disrespectful. I'm petitioning you to help me STOP e-mails like this by suggesting that you actually read them before you send them. and if you disagree with the subject, tell the person who forwarded it to you and don't pass it on. I LOVE MY COUNTRY enough that I want this to STOP. I'm tired of this hateful attitude towards immigrants, it absolutely sucks. If you have a problem with the way things are run remember you family were immigrants as well and you are welcome to go back to your home country. I love the melting pot I live in. I'm proud to see people waving flags of other nations and it warms my heart when I walk through the grocery and hear 5 different languages. I'm proud to have assisted refugees from war torn country's, and helped them make a life in the United States of America. It just makes me feel that much better when I pull up to my house and see my American flag out front flying free, and glorious


Proud to be a loving Christian American

Graham Bain

The following e-mail is the one i received today. Appalling as it is.

I bought a bird feeder. I hung it on my back porch and filled it with seed. What a beauty of a bird feeder it is, as I filled it lovingly with seed. Within a week we had hundreds of birds taking advantage of the continuous flow of free and easily accessible food. But then the birds started building nests in the boards of the patio, above the table, and next to the barbecue. Then came the poop. It was everywhere: on the patio tile, the chairs, the table . everywhere! Then some of the birds turned mean. They would dive bomb me and try to peck me even though I had fed them out of my own pocket. And others birds were boisterous and loud. They sat on the feeder and squawked and screamed at all hours of the day and night and demanded that I fill it when it got low on food. After a while, I couldn't even sit on my own back porch anymore. So I took down the bird feeder and in three days the birds were gone. I cleaned up their mess and took down the many nests they had built all over the patio. Soon, the back yard was like it used to be.... quiet, serene and no one demanding their rights to a free meal. Now let's see. Our government gives out free food, subsidized housing, free medical care, and free education and allows anyone born here to be an automatic citizen. Then the illegals came by the tens of thousands. Suddenly our taxes went up to pay for free services; small apartments are housing 5 families; you have to wait 6 hours to be seen by an emergency room doctor; your child's 2nd grade class is behind other schools because over half the class doesn't speak English. Corn Flakes now come in a bilingual box; I have to "press one" to hear my bank talk to me in English, and people waving flags other than "Old Glory" are squawking and screaming in the streets, demanding more rights and free liberties. Just my opinion, but maybe it's time for the government to take down the bird feeder. If you agree, pass it on; if not, continue cleaning up the poop!

Spinelli's pizza is tha shit.

AGHHHHHH....


Another day in the neighborhood.
J&L dropped by this morning kept me company for a while during the slow opening hours. Nothing intresting or flashy to say. check back later.
OH....!!! "The Man" just walked in with a PS2 and Rockband. I probably won't be writign on here later. I'm getting payed to play video games today!!

Dear Emergancy Medical Service Employee:

As a result of the reduction of money budgeted for department areas, we are forced to cut down on our number of personnel. Under this plan, older employees will be asked to take early retirement, thus permitting the retention of younger people who represent our future. Therefore, a program to phase out older personnel by the end of the current fiscal year, via retirement, will be placed into effect immediately.
This program will be known as SLAP (Sever Late-Aged Personnel). Employees who are SLAPPED will be given the opportunity to look for jobs outside the company. SLAPPED employees can request a review of their employment records before actual retirement takes place.
This review phase of the program is called SCREW. SCREW (Survey of Capabilities of Retired Early Workers). All employees who have been SLAPPED and SCREWED may file an appeal with upper management.
This appeal is called SHAFT (Study by Higher Authority Following Termination). Under the terms of the new policy, an employee may be SLAPPED once, SCREWED twice, but may be SHAFTED as many times as the company deems appropriate. If an employee follows the above procedure, he/she will be entitled to get:
HERPES (Half Earnings for Retired Personnel's Early Severance) or CLAP (Combined Lump sum Assistance Payment). As HERPES and CLAP are considered benefit plans, any employee who has received HERPES or CLAP will no longer be SLAPPED or SCREWED by the company. Management wishes to assure the younger employees who remain on board that the company will continue its policy of training employees through our:
Special High Intensity Training (SHIT). We take pride in the amount of SHIT our employees receive. We have given our employees more SHIT than any company in this area. If any employee feels they do not receive enough SHIT on the job, see your immediate supervisor. Your supervisor is specially trained to make sure you receive all the SHIT you can stand. And, once again, thanks for all your years of service with us.

The Anti-Resolution (cool name for a band huh?)

How is it that one who has come to despise Christmas, can look forward to New Years with such religious fervor. Is this what adulthood has come too. Drudging my way through the holidays to get smashed and start all over again?
Well then bring it on.
New Years have typically sucked in my life. As a teenager I was usually trapped in Texas with family on New Years Eve and that sucked for several reasons.
First reason being, even as a 13-14 year old it was my understanding that if you weren't sucking face with a chick that was at least slightly attractive then there was NOT reason to celebrate.
Second being that My grandparents invented the bible belt, and any celebration remotely related to alcohol consumption was evil.

Third and worst of all they went to bed at 9 or 10 and Texas is on a different time zone. Leaving me ALONE watching the ball drop at 11 o'clock, with NO CHICK!!!!!!
Total bullshit!!! Right?
So this situation has greatly improved in adulthood, upon reaching the legal age to consume, and getting married and being a homeowner. This year I will party with family and friends listening to a live band for the first time on a new years. groovy. can't wait.
I've got the hot chick to smooch, the ball will drop at the right time, and I'm not in Texas. (other times however I very much wish that I was in Texas with grandparents)
So...thus...
I've never been one for making New Years resolutions, always thought it was a stupid concept. When I was 14 years old I made a resolution to not ever make another resolution. Everyone else was running to get there gym memberships and swearing to loose weight, or quit smoking, or walk their dog more often, only to fail horribly and give up in two and a half months. I've kept my resolution for 10 LONG YEARS. I've stuck it out, and it's been the best resolution I could have ever made.
So this time I urge all, ye' great citizens of the free world, to make the year of thy Lord 2008 the year you resolute to not resolute.
~GB~

whoa there stevie...

So the end of the year finally makes it's visible approach. The scents of Hot cocoa and Evergreen draw near the memories of wonderful Christmas' past. And all I can think of is What a BITCH it is to grow up. I used to LOVE this time of year. It was the stuff dreams are made of. Now I just can't wait for it to be over. The songs are cool for a day or so, then I want to gouge out my eardrums with a rusty gutter nail. Fluffing fake tree branches is complete and total horse shit. The movies are always cute and I can stand them. And snuggling up with one you love is great all year but somehow more fun when it's 20 below zero. But God forbid anyone need something from Target on a Sunday afternoon. Son-of-a-bitch, don't even get me started on department stores. Anyway I guess where I'm wandering with my thoughts is to wish that like in childhood, Christmas was still a time of excitement that 2000 years ago my Saviour was born. Or the joy of Christmas morning burning excitement in my heart until I thought I was gonna explode, Joy so intense that any annoyances of repetitive music, or bitchy store clerks, or suburban soccer moms fighting over the last X-Box 360 for their spoiled brat, never even registered. I miss the day's of cluelessness of what was going on around me, childhood innocence. Well alright, not innocence, but something like it. I miss the day's of respecting and enjoying the world for what it is, and I guess by writing this I'm reminding myself that those day's may be enjoyed again, but I've got to put forth the effort.
With that I'll conclude, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

passers-by in the game of life

So....I've finally made it out of the blue collar workforce thank god!! I've gotta find a way to make it financially do-able but fuck uniform's and (take those earrings out, and tuck your shirt in, and cover those tattoo's and get a hair cut) Jesus Christ what a relief. I left my job with EMS probably 3 weeks ago now? I guess. I got a job in the best local music store, working in there coffee shops. Hopefully after the start of the year I'll be able to move into a better paying sales position or maybe run the coffee shops myself. the bosses are tired of the stress and looking for someone to hand the responsibility off to. I'll be that guy, cause they know nothing about coffee shops and I used to run the one at the Seelbach Hotel before getting into EMS.

The best thing is I'm getting to dig loads of great music I'd have never be introduced to otherwise!!! It's amazing.