Why confession of ingratitude is an appropriate appetizer to this year’s dinner

They didn’t land within our town.
They moored at Plymouth Rock.
Those ones who taught us to give thanks
trapped turkeys, deer and fox.

The Pilgrims feasted off the land
as new friends showed them how.
Their learning curve was steep and hard
without an ox-drawn plow.

And yet they didn’t grouse and gripe.
With buckled-hats removed,
they knelt each night with praise to God.
His faithfulness they’d proved.

So many years have long since passed.
Our lives are far less stressed.
And yet it seems we aren’t as quick
to claim how much we’re blessed.

We feel entitled way too much
and lack the Pilgrim’s flair
for recognizing all they had
with humble hearts and prayer.

So this year on Thanksgiving Day
let’s honestly admit
what undeserving folks we are
in light of what we get.

Looking for meaning in the mounting toll of war

In this grim war
a hundred score
have come back in a box.
And still they die
while some ask “why?”
“Is Bush’s brain but rocks?”

Two thousand troops
in funeral suits
with eyes forever closed.
Some say they died
for one man’s pride.
Perhaps. But just suppose

they shed their blood
in Baghdad’s mud
for those who nightly dream
of freedom’s prize
and joyful sighs.
Do you know what I mean?

Although the toll
deflates my soul
and renders me so sad,
I still am for
this horrid war
that aims to curb the bad.

Iraqis need
(aren’t we agreed?)
the chance to fend off terror.
They want our aid.
They’re glad we’ve stayed.
Of course they want us there.

Recognizing the worth of America’s veterans

I know a wrinkled balding man
who proudly served his Uncle Sam
and claims he’d do it all again
to fight for liberty

I think you’ve seen this man before.
This one who risked his life in war
and then returned without a limb
but with no real regrets.

He has a tale he’s known to tell
of what it’s like surviving Hell
and how it feels when buddies die
or lose their sanity.

Although he’s brave, he’s also shy
and tries to dodge the public’s eye.
He’s quite content to quietly
reflect on freedom’s price.

But when he sees the flag go by,
this man is not ashamed to cry.
He stands up straight and then salutes
a banner he esteems.

I know that man and so do you.
He’s rarely paid what he is due.
His name is VETERAN and he’s earned
a place in history.

Why a boycott of Abercrombie and Fitch makes sense

May I have your eyes and ears?
Something’s afoot
that relates to a popular store
where posters of body parts
are largely unclothed.

That’s not a small paradox
given the fact
that the store in question
sells much more than socks.
It is a clothing store.

Man alive,
there’s a boycott going on.
Have you heard?
It’s not absurd.
It’s not an overreaction.
It’s not an extreme faction.
In fact, it’s not about fanaticism at all.
It’s about time.

It’s a boycott
on behalf of girls caught
in the wicked web
of Abercrombie and Fitch’s
malevolent merchandising.

It’s a web that traps
those who want to fit in
by wearing what
self-designated
unscrupulous
fashion designers
have deemed to be
the trend.

It’s a web that
tortures the psyche
of those who don’t have the perfect bod
so that they begin to blame God
for the way He made them.

It’s a web that dehumanizes
a woman’s worth
by selling girls’ tee shirts
with suggestive slogans
that invite teenage boys
to remove them in their minds.

It’s a web that keeps our kids
from fleeing youthful lusts
by tangling them in the threads
of a promiscuous mind set
in which they long for sexual pleasure
beyond the measure of their years
(or the level of their commitment).

Because the spider must pay,
a boycott
just may be the way.