Gangster turned hero:

Gang warlord turned hero
We think on 1950's America as an idyllic, simpler time. A beautiful slice of life immortalized in the paintings of Norman Rockwell. Ignored in these nostalgic pictures are life among the poor in the ghettos.

Nicky Cruz was a teenager in 1958. A native of Puerto Rico, his parents sent him to live in New York with his brother when he was fifteen. It was difficult adjusting to a new culture, and a new language in a city that had little care for those who didn't fit the Rockwell portrait.

Nicky had a hard time in school, and was thrown out. He later joined a gang called the Mau Maus. Named after an African tribe, they prided themselves on ruthlessness. Over time, their membership grew and Nicky became president. War was waged on the police, and neighborhoods lived in fear.

In his book, "Run, baby run" Nicky recounts how he was driven by hate. A hate so palpable, he sensed it everywhere he went. He combated the hate with violence. His gang committed robbery and rape among the citizens while waging war on other gangs in the streets. No drug, no rumble, no sexual encounter was enough to quell the hurt inside him that hate firmly planted.

His life was changed when he met a minister named David Wilkerson. After three years of running the Mau Maus, Nicky met a slight, odd looking man who found the right words to reach him. The word of God. Nicky recounts restless nights when Wilkerson's simple message turned over in his head. He had to do something about this preacher. Wilkerson threatened all he built, his only family.

The Mau Maus went to the preacher's rally with intent on disrupting it. Instead, Wilkerson asked Nicky and three Mau Maus to take up a collection for the church.
Was he crazy?
It was the first time Nicky felt trusted and though he knew stealing the money was the "right" thing to do, something stopped him. He took the money to the preacher instead.

He was changing.
It was scary to change. He was in control as president of a gang, and he had a degree of respect. When God began to impact his heart, he had something he never had before.
Self respect.

Hate began to die as he learned more about God. The change in him sparked a change in others.
Imagine the shock when Nicky and his fellow gang members went to the police station to turn in their weapons!

Nicky went on to Bible college and married a sweet girl named Gloria. Together, they have dedicated their lives to youth all across the world. Nicky has given talks in Denmark, England and all across America.
His book is required reading in at least three countries.

I got to hear him speak last Saturday.
His words were not those of a polished orator, but of an honest man with heart.
He was able to reach out to both teens and parents with a positive solution that would better their lives forever.

Excerpt from my book: Kindertransport
 (Wild Rose Press)

I filled the syringe with morphine. My hands shook. Could innocent blood ever be washed away? Would my hands ever be clean again if I continued this course?
The gas would make them choke, gasping for breath as their life was strangled to nothingness. Morphine would make them euphoric, and an overdose would put them to sleep, peacefully, with no pain.
I filled the second syringe, I thought of each child as I punctured the rubber stopper, the needle sucking up the lethal fluid filling the tube.
Little Wilhelm.  treasured leader of the pack. The braces on his legs never stopped his imagination from soaring.
Lara. An artist’s soul expressed with the one good arm she had. Art was reflective of the beauty living in her heart. The twins. Isn’t intelligence measured with creativity? I would sorely miss their energy.
My hand slipped, the needle grazed the knuckle of my thumb. I swore and bit my lip. Perfect. I‘ll kill myself before I get the chance to euthanize my children. Then after I enter Heaven’s gate, if He lets me through them, I can tell God I’m an idiot and a murderer.
I rubbed my shoulders, they hunched with an invisible weight making my back ache.

Stephen King: On Romance?

Stephen King: What the master of horror teaches about romance.

I got busted reading "Carrie" in science class. I trembled with the thought of surviving a pandemic with "The Stand."

Stephen King: A romantic hero? Maybe atypical but absolutely! Let’s look at why:

Stephen knows loss. He grew up with an absentee father and a mother who took charge, a woman who made her living working hard and caring for her sons. She tended to her children's mental and spiritual health as well as caring for her extended family. A woman who provided an inspiration of strength for those who knew her. She died far too young. A loss a young man shouldn't have to face, but her strength was passed on to her children. instead of blaming the fates, they carried on. His modest background gave him sensitivity to the working class and some vital insight about the human condition.

Stephen went to college. He worked his way through school as a janitor.
It was in college Stephen met Tabitha. As students they connected.He admired her for her intelligence and creativity, as she is a writer as well. It was Tabitha who rescued "Carrie" from the trash and demanded her husband finish the manuscript. He was smart enough to listen to his wife, and finished the work. He has loved and dedicated his life to his lady, Tabitha, his college sweetheart. Together they’ve faced and overcome his drug addiction and the physical challenges that came from a severe motor vehicle accident.

He has been a father to his children for the long haul.
He has overcome personal tragedy and offered support to budding authors with his "On writing" book.He fought a drug addiction during his marriage. It takes courage to admit you have a problem and to ask for help. It is even more courageous to make private pain public so others can be inspired to seek help too, even though doing this gives the mean spirited an easy target.

Stephen was given another horrific challenge when he was hit by a car. Months in physical therapy allowed him to walk again, but the steps were slow, a grueling struggle to heal. Despite the damage to his body Stephen didn’t fall into despair. The self is the greatest enemy, the love of his family his greatest asset. Tabitha was with him every step of the way, no matter how trying.

Horror is all around us. We see the evils humans do; it drags us into emotional mire. Hearing the news is enough to make us want to hide under our beds or just get through the day so we can make it back to the sanctuary of our homes. Through it all love makes it bearable, infusing us with the power to look evil in its face and claim victory.

The master of horror, by his own strength and perseverance is the model of a true hero.

Infamy

Can love break the barriers of time and distance?

Is it possible to have a bond so close that a person can sense the distress of a loved one far away?

After the bombing of Pearl harbor, Jacob DeShazer trained for a mission. A retaliation to bomb Japanese targets then return to china and rendez-vous with American troops. The men knew the chances of survival were slim due to a strong Japanese presence in China.

The air raid was a success, however; on the way back, the planes failed forcing the men to parachute from them. Two men died in the landing, while Deshazer and his fellows were captured.

Back in the states, a mother woke from a dream where she felt as though she were falling. She began to pray for her son. Her fears were confirmed in a news story about pilots captured by the Japanese. her son would be a prisoner of war for three years. Despite her fear, she held fast to the belief her son would come home. The belief gave her peace.

DeShazer returned home a changed man, during his incarceration he was allowed three weeks to read a bible. Jesus' teachings on forgiveness strengthened him; his teachings on love, inspired. He was able to embrace the truth that we are more than our governments. Peace is possible when we learn to love one another. A mission statement more difficult than it sounds.

After the war, DeShazer married and returned to Japan with his wife and son. After writing "I was a prisoner of Japan", he spent thirty years as a missionary. One of his fans was the man who led the attack on Pearl Harbor. the two became friends and worked as missionaries together.

A day of infamy started a life long work for peace.

Rusty Pen

"Advice? I don't have advice. Stop aspiring and start writing. If you're writing, you're a writer. Write like you're a goddamn death row inmate and the governor is out of the country and there's no chance for a pardon. Write like you're clinging to the edge of a cliff, white knuckles, on your last breath, and you've got just one last thing to say, like you're a bird flying over us and you can see everything, and please, for God's sake, tell us something that will save us from ourselves. Take a deep breath and tell us your deepest, darkest secret, so we can wipe our brow and know that we're not alone. Write like you have a message from the king. Or don't. Who knows, maybe you're one of the lucky ones who doesn't have to"

Pushy People

We've all met them:

conventional wisdom calls it assertiveness. somehow its empowering to "Assert" yourself into another's business to the point they are ready to hire a hit man.
maybe they should.
I have been plagued with pushy people my whole life starting with family.
I baby sat in high school for a terrific lady named Judy. Judy was my mentor, whether she knew it or not, she perhaps saved my sanity and saved me a fortune on prozac.
Mom would ask how much the house my client lived in cost. She then seemed to want a list of assets and an approximation of client net worth.
huh?
how the hell do I know? I'm 17 and I am not in real estate.
It didn't stop there, privacy was an issue. It wasn't an issue for her, she didn't understand the concept. I got a letter from my sister. I didn't even get to touch the envelope before mom tears it open and starts to read it. My sis was pissed at me and mom was clicking her tongue telling me how mad she was and of course it was my fault.
My sister wasn't good about privacy either. her 4 year old went rummaging through my closet and found condoms. big trouble for me, but no talk to junior about discretion being the better part of valor.
I had roommates who took my car without permission, boy friends who wanted to have sex with all my friends until they dumped me.
the latest incident being the mom of my sons girlfriend rifling through my closet.
I try to be nice, i really do
she wanted to know what was in my spare room and i told her it was storage. she couldnt wait to get in there! why?
she finally backed off after I told her it was where i hid the bodies of the last few bitches who coujldn't respect my privacy.
In this age of tell all, i need to be assertive to tell them all off.
If you want a tell all, watch Springer.
Back off or i will assert my foot into your ass.

yea, i didn't I do that?

CNA

Certified Nursing Assistants.
This should be a noble profession, the girls really do like thier patients.
No, I will not call them clients. Patients are in need of care, clients are money makers for business. At least money is made for someone else, as CNA"s are forced to work at poverty level or below.

Nurses can no longer be equated with patient care. One freind dropped nursing school when , after two years, she hadn't even been taught to use a thermometer. In two years she only had an anatomy class, patient care wasn't even mentioned.
Nurses (RN's) can work ten years in a hospital and never enter a patients a room. They are in offices doing paper work.
LPN's are the ones doing treatments and passing meds, unless it is a floor where the liablitly is too high, then an RN is on the floor, but if the work can be passed onto a lower grade, it is.

Many RN's see patient care as a task below their station. If I only had a dollar for everytime I asked for help, only to have the RN tell me "I'm a nurse, I don't work with patients" as she trots down the hall with a big smile on her face. Leaving the patient looking at me in utter confusion.
The patient sat on the bedside commode for half an hour while I hunted down another CNA and waited for her to get a minute to help me.

One memory I have of working in a nursing facility (please note how the names always imply kind care giving in order to lure the client to their fate), involves patients being lined up along the wall opposite the nurses station. I was feeding a patient when I heard another patient trying to gert the attention of two administrators conversing in front of her.
she was asking for a tissue.
Several minutes went by and pleas became more urgent.
Glancing toward her, she was trying to wipe the snot running from her nose onto her shoulder, wiping the excess from her lips, she tried to remove the mucus from her tongue by scraping it along her shirt sleeve.

the adiministrators kept talking. A therapist and a doctor passed her and did nothing.
I left my patient, walked the three steps toward the tissue box and handed the client a tissue.
At no extra charge.
The two administrators kept talking then moved when they thought the client was too gross to stand near.

THe administrators have a private office, their own parking space and medical benefits.
CNA's don't.

My first job was in 1982. I made 3.35 an hour with the promsie of a nickel raise at the end of the year. The twit had the nerve to act like we were supposed to be enthused about this.
Finally, in the 80's there was a staffing agency called All Stat (not all state) who paid $7 an hour for day shift and $8 for weekends.
My freinds and I were ecstatic. We worked all we could for this agency, as most places paid $5 an hour at the most.

Now in 2010, CNA's still only make $8 an hour and that is the high side. One agency cut CNA pay by a dollar an hour citing the economy as the reason. Do you think administrators took a pay cut?

I was concerend when I accessed the DISCOVER computer program at the college. It lists nurse/psych assistant pay range as between $11-$17 an hoiur. I would love to know who they asked.
Medicare home health visits used to be $11 an hour back in 1990. I don't know what happened to the industry, but CNA's quit making money. The pay rate is busted down to $7-8 an hour with no consideration to experience.
I made more in 1990 than I do now.