Religious Restrictions- Stand Firm Against It!

RESTRICTION OF RELIGION Religion is a topic that many don’t want to bring up in a social setting. Today, people are told that they MUST be tolerant of Islam, but the same courtesy is not afforded to Christians, in fact, in the last eight years, Christians have had a large target painted on their back. Hillary Clinton has been quoted as saying that deep seated religious beliefs have to be put aside in order for women to have access to reproductive health and services. http://www.charismanews.com/opinion/49375-hillary-clinton-wants-christians-to-give-up-on-bible-beliefs Obama says that government, “can and will force” Christians to act against their faith. http://www.cnsnews.com/news/article/ One of the original reasons that the New World was settled was to gain religious freedom. The settlers were the original rebels. They wanted to live free and worship as their conscience dictated. Europe was largely Catholic, and Protestants weren’t allowed to worship freely. On October 18, 1685, Louis XIV of France signed the Edict of Fontainebleau, revoking the Edict of Nantes that established legal tolerance of French Protestants of the Reformed Church, known as the Huguenots. http://www.museeprotestant.org/en/notice/the-edict-of-fontainebleau-or-the-revocation-1685/ The Huguenots were inspired to, ”reform” their beliefs by the writings of John Calvin in the 1530’s. The Edict of Nantes was written to calm relations between the Protestant and the Catholic believers during a time of unrest. When Louis XIV took the throne, he made measures to convert Protestants back to the Catholic Church. The Edict of Fontainebleau revoked the previous Edict of Nantes signed by Henry IV and the Edict of Nimes, signed by Louis XIII. The Edict of Fontainebleau allowed for the demolition of Protestant (Reformed) churches, the ban on pastors, offering them in exchange for conversion, life pensions and re-education in the legal field or they would be banished within two weeks or they could chose to hang. The Edict declared the prohibition of any children being baptized or schooled in Protestant faith. Children had to be baptized and schooled in the Catholic faith. Failure to do so would result in men being hung and women would be jailed for noncompliance. The possessions of any member of the Reformed Church who had moved to another country would be seized if they did not return in a period of four months and properly convert. The emigration of any Reformed Church members was prohibited, so if they left, they would do so as criminals and be dealt with as such, if caught. The Edict did allow a “Freedom of Conscience” clause. This “freedom” was not allowed to be exercised as many Protestants were jailed for refusing to convert. In fact, “Draggonades” were an organized group that operated north of the Loire Valley to forcibly convert those who were trying to exercise their “Freedom of Conscience.” The New World offered a haven for the religiously persecuted. Many Huguenots did get away from France and come to the proverbial promised land of the Americas. Charleston, SC was one of the places where a large number of Huguenots settled and built churches and communities. Other than space, there are no new worlds. If the United States of America has its freedoms shut down, especially those of religion, where is the respite and safe place for Christian beliefs? Islam has Sharia Law. By its statutes, it cannot allow any other religion or doctrine to live beside it or coexist in any way. This seventh century doctrine allows for forced conversion or murder of those who remain “infidels”. The Constitution and Bill or Rights and Sharia Law are in no way compatible. If one believes that this is possible, it is a delusion. The most odious part of the call of the administration to abandon Christian beliefs, is the threat of legal action from anyone who dares to criticize Islam. http://www.dailywire.com/news/1593/loretta-lynch-vows-prosecute-those-who-use-anti-james-barrett# Muslims can get laws or practices changed because they are “offended” by these laws or practices. If a Christian belief is allowed to be abolished, offensive or counter to Christian practices, so what? Where is the outrage? Where is the media dribbling spew about how mean and racist everyone MUST be to say anything in personal self-defense? Christian citizens of the United States of America must stand as one to stop this disturbing trend! Our country and freedoms are what is at stake. Once they are lost, the recovery will be harsh or nonexistent.

Why I Write and What Writing Is To Me

Writing is the natural extension of my favorite pastime, reading. My Mother, and English literature teacher, taught me to read by the age of four. I believe she did this because I would hound her to read the same books over and over until I had them memorized. When she was busy, I would look at my favorite books and turn the pages. She would hear me reciting the dialog and story to myself. I believe this led me to a semi eidetic memory. My maternal Grandmother, also an English teacher, spent many an hour correcting my grammar and speech. When I was in school, I was not one of the “in” crowd. I was teased and bullied. Reading was a way for me to escape the hurts of the day and have adventures where I was the heroine. I write because it gives me the opportunity to go to my own world where the accommodations are better and everyone knows me by name. Every story I create is me, off from the mundane to the exciting. I am the one who discovers buried treasure, has a love affair or saves the planet. I am an accountant by trade. There is little deviation or diversion with the numbers. When I get bogged down in the routine, I use my imagination. This is one of the ways I get ideas for stories or continuation of a story line I have already begun. My poetry often springs up while I am doing some journal entries or other task. I keep a notebook with me to jot these ideas down for future reference. This is the way I keep going. When life gets me down, I fight back by creating a character that can change the world. I have recently started writing nonfiction essays and journalistic articles. I love researching the topic, finding quotes and drawing the overall point together. The first one I finished gave me such a feeling of satisfaction. I felt like I had really accomplished something. Writing is the light at the end of the tunnel for me. For the last three years, I couldn’t really see it. I was afraid that I would never find my way out. My goal of being a self-sufficient writer has given my life a new purpose and new beginning I thought was beyond me. I am on the path of success again, and it is a glorious feeling.

Photo by Sarah Dallaire

The Old Home Place

In these latter years, what I remember most is the comfort food, dishes my Grandparents always had prepared for us when we would come back to the Homeplace. We would gather there for Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and any time we could. However, it was not just a place to gather, it was a place to return to, where you were always welcome. A place where you could go to lick your wounds when life threw all it had at you, letting blood and wreaking havoc on your well laid plans. The house was a white, wooden, developed from a very old dog trot cabin and a section of a ruined house that had survived a fire. For those who don’t know, a dog trot cabin consists of two rooms with a breezeway between them. These pieces were cobbled together into a five room house that my Grandparents purchased in the 1930’s. They married and started their adult life together on the precipice of the Crash of 29’. They were farm raised and my Grandmother said she never knew there was a Depression, because they worked on their family’s farms. Like most farmers in The South, they were land poor and cash money short. The food was plentiful, and they got by, like their peers, but stock market crashes and job losses just were not something of which rural Georgia had much experience. The lives of the ones who came to be christened The Greates Generation consisted of labor, both in the fields and house, helping neighbors as necessary. Their tenacity for fixing, repairing and making do was the cornerstone of their existence. One did not buy new things, but saved what money you earned for a rainy day or the future. To this end, they worked and saved for the small house where their love and support resided and we could always come home to them and rest. The things they taught me were both by example and in stories of the past. I remember my Grandfather walking with me through the woods and telling me stories of his Mother, who was an herbalist, while pointing out things that looked like weeds to me. He patiently explained their uses and which maladies they were best applied. If we visited a steakhouse that decorated its walls with antique farm tools, he would point and explain the purpose and use of each one. I thought I wasn’t listening, but it sunk in and stayed with me. My Grandmother taught more by example, but had plenty of stories to tell about growing up with eight brothers and sisters on the farm. I watched her cook, learning how to make the favorites we all loved. I helped her wash dishes and clothes, which we placed in the plastic laundry basket my Grandfather had repaired with a green limb and twine when the handle had cracked. She ran the finances and a frugal household. They weathered each other’s differences and often fought about silly things, or did things just to be contrary to the other. They did not feel that such things constituted divorce. They realized commitment was a promise they made long ago. If it wasn’t always comfortable, it just borne with stoicism. When my Grandfather died in 1990, the beginning of the end came. Little by little my Grandmother needed more help and soon my Mother moved in with her. The house was still there, but it was home no more. There was no fresh cornbread or drop biscuits set on the table. Breakfast was not being prepared when you walked sleepily into the kitchen. Family meals became extinct. Without my Grandparents, the team was finished. My immediate family did not last. There was little cooperation from the next generation. The Great Recession and Crash of 2008 took my two businesses and great job. Not wanting to stay on unemployment, I took the first position I found. It was alien to me, outside of my career, education and training. My co- workers were unlike any I had ever met. I cried daily after work due to the stress and verbal abuse from a demigod district manager there, but I never gave up. I did my best, even though at 46, the physical, dirty work was too hard for me with my health problems. I would never have had the will to continue if I had not had the strength and conviction I had observed in my Grandparents. My family needed me to work. I stayed for them. The company eventually let me go. Through perseverance and over time, I was able to return to my career field, a much more thankful and humble person. The house still stands, but the place and people are gone. The only legacy that remains is the person I am today.

Photo by Rebecca Dale Wilbanks

Serve Somebody

Bob Dylan put out a song Serve Somebody in 1979. I think it really is applicable to the world today. The lyrics say, "You may be an ambassador to England or France, You may like to gamble, you may like to dance, You may be the heavyweight champion of the world, You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls, But you're gonna have to serve somebody. Indeed, you're gonna have to serve somebody. Well, it may be the devil, or it may be the Lord, But you're gonna have to serve somebody" Ask yourself today, who do you serve? I especially would like for all elected officials to ask themselves this question. If it is not your constituents, shouldn't it be?

Crossing the Bar by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star One clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, When I put out to sea, But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound or foam, When that which drew from out of the boundless deep. Turns again home

. Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar. When Muhammad Ali died, his memorial service was long and the celebrities and dignitaries lined up to say something about the man "who floats like a butterfly and stings like a bee." Princess Diana had the royal procession, and Ronald Reagan had the Presidential funeral parade that featured the riderless horse with the backwards boots in the stirrups. This is what ensues when a celebrity, princess or politician dies, but what about those who pass without the fanfare. Today, Tripp (Robert Owen the third), as he was called, was the first of my classmates (from the great old school of St. Genevieve/ Gibbons Hall in Asheville, NC, passed away due to the ravages of hated cancer, complicated by ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease.) There will be no parade. Will Smith will not be a pall bearer, but the world is a little less colorful without our friend. For who sings the praises of a life lived day to day, as most of us do? That job is left to us who remain behind to celebrate ordinary lives of extraordinary individuals. We can recall with laughter how he loved to do things he really shouldn't have. Like the time he put noise poppers in his favorite teacher's, (Mr. Olsen's) erasers. It made him so mad, and even madder as he sat in his chair where Tripp had placed more poppers under each leg. Jo, who related a tale of how Tripp shot her with his BB gun and knocked her off her bike one afternoon after they had planned a party for the next weekend together, likes to remind us of the brilliant mind Tripp possessed and what a great loss it is. One of the best things that has happened concerning Tripp for me was his surprise birthday party last year. He made sure that I was found and invited. (I had been out of touch for 36 years.) I told him we had to get together every 36 years whether we needed to or not. It has meant a great deal to me that I was returned home through his actions, (shout out to Michelle M. too,) and I was able to be around through his short, difficult journey home. All that is left is to say thank you. Thank you to his family for their love and faithfulness. Thank you for the professional caregivers who contributed to his health. Thank you for the rallying of the SG/GH classmates to encourage him as much as we were able from the places we have scattered to build our adult lives. Thank you to Facebook for allowing us ongoing group discussion on the situation. Most of all, thank you Tripp for being you, giving us good memories and sharing your brilliant mind, mischief and history with us all. I am sure heaven is happy to have you with them today and there is a homecoming party going on for you. Say hello to your Grandfather, Dr. Robert Owen. Thank him for saving my Dad's life when he had appendicitis as a boy, so I can write this tribute to you today. He is now with his dog in the above picture. Throw the ball for him Tripp!!!!

BOHEMIAN RENAISSANCE LITERARY MAGAZINE

The first issue of Bohemian Renaissance has come off the press!! If you would like a copy, please send your request to bohemianlitmag@gmail.com. If you would like to submit any literary or art work for publication, please send a word or pdf.file to bohemianlitmag@gmail.com. Submit artwork in jpeg. format. The website is under construction and I will keep you posted on it's progress.

SOMETHING ELSE?

Orlando has my condolences and well wishes. Saturday night’s massacre was not about gays or guns, it was about across the board hate and maybe something more. The LBGT community feels targeted. The Hollywood folks and left leaners came out about the evil of guns, gun owners and more control of guns. The man who perpetrated this horrific act of violence was a follower of an extreme cult-like “religion” which teaches hate. Its doctrine preaches across the board intolerance and excusable murder to those who do not follow the guidelines and lifestyle of this cult. Guidelines that can be interpreted to suit those who judge at any time. It can be broken down into the simplest terms. The followers of this cult hate where they live, they hate their poverty, hate their government. They come to the United States and other freer European countries. They hate that the new home is not like the old home. They want it to conform to the practices that they abhorred and kept them downtrodden in their own country, even though they are offered a good life in their new environment. This mindset cannot, nor will not progress to allow for the 14 centuries of change that the world has undergone. Whether it be for right or for wrong, no one can deny that the world is no longer as it was in the days of their prophet. Omar Mateen, like the Tsarnaev brothers grew up in the United States. All three had ample opportunity to expand their horizon with public schooling, and for further education if were so inclined. They were not required to give up their heritage. As American citizens, they had the freedom to worship, live and do as they like. Instead of embracing the lifestyle and opportunity here as many generations of American immigrants have done since before the seventeen century, they chose to jump on the same tired, radical doctrine that their parents left behind in their home country. All the schooling, kindness, television, libraries and other educational media could not root out the hate that is part of this archaic cult religion. It is true that Islam feels that homosexuals should be killed. They do this in Middle Eastern countries. It is true that Islam feels that women should be second class citizens with males being the only human beings with any civil rights at all, or even the right to life, as they can be murdered if they are perceived “bad” for any and all reasons. It is not guns that took on animated life and limbs, driving to Pulse nightclub to kill people. That took a human hand, heart and mind. Guns are not the only way to kill. Cain killed Abel with a rock. In centuries past, there were swords, axes, knives, mace ball flairs, nun chucks and the list goes on and on. These don’t even touch on poison, asphyxiation or other ways to cause death. France has one of the toughest gun laws of any country. Why didn’t that save Charlie Hebdo or the people in the last massacre? https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/worldviews/wp/2015/01/09/france-has-strict-gun-laws-why-didnt-that-save-charlie-hebdo-victims/ Gun laws are not the answer as criminals do not follow laws. Perhaps it is something more, if Alex Jones is to be given credence. http://www.wnd.com/2016/06/alex-jones-on-orlando-massacre-its-a-government-cover-up/ It is ironic that gun massacres have been so prevalent in the last eight years. To be honest, it is probably a given that the current administration thought they would have more gun control by 2016. Instead, they only increased gun sales exponentially. AMERICANS WILL NOT GIVE UP THEIR GUNS!!!!!!!!!! What if the government is instigating these events to gain greater control, not just of guns, but of the citizenry? It wouldn’t be unheard of, it has probably happened in other places in one way or another, at some time. Cuba’s guns were taken away, then Castro became a dictator. A Cuban, or any communist country, or Nazi Germany immigrant that went through these types of political upheaval will be more than happy to tell anyone why citizens should NEVER, EVER give up their guns. Could the violence and bloodshed be a little something more, like buy one get one free? The Democratic presumptive presidential candidate is treading some serious legal water right now. The current administration says it will not interfere with any departmental investigation, but is extremely defensive and blocking almost every effort. The White House itself is blocking Clinton’s emails until after the election. http://en.apa.az/print/244818 If it were as simple as hate, or lack of guns, this would not be the crisis that it is. Unfortunately, no one wants to define in in hard terms or call it by its real name. Americans are fighting an uphill battle against an unseen, unpredictable foe. It is a foe that can easily show up in the clothes of a friend, a neighbor, a classmate or an elected official. Unless the line is drawn and the citizenry are willing to acknowledge the evils that are working in the background, this violence and hate will not stop, but increase.