'Invasive species' threatens all things Texan

As we sit back on this Thanksgiving Day and reflect on our blessings, I wish to take a few moments of your time to issue a warning. You may or may not have heard about the mass hoard that has crossed the border into Texas with the intent to manipulate and change the people, politics and character of this great state. This eastward migration across our western border has been creeping up on us slowly and with great stealth and now these alien invaders are infiltrating our neighborhoods, our businesses, our schools, our governments and even our places of worship. Speaking as a refugee whose homeland has been conquered by these undesirables, I’m here to tell you that nothing native is sacred to them. They come here under the pretence of seeking a better life, but then they set about making their new home the same thing the left – a wretched wreck of chaos, amorality, soaring debt, inflation, pollution, and political correctness run amuck. As they arrive they will occupy homes and not give a hoot what it does to the real estate market. I know, I’ve been victimized by this before. It’s part of the reason I moved to Texas. These ornery varmints are a big part of the reason my home state of Colorado has turned from a deep red to a dark blue stain on the political map in just a few short years. Their homeland has been hemorrhaging immigrants by the tens of thousands for years and they just keep coming. They’re a non-native invasive species that threatens overtake the natives and bend their will to their way of thinking. Oh, sure, they’ll smile and act pleasant. Some may legitimately be ignorant of their offense, but they will be offensive just the same. It’s nothing for them to say how nice and beautiful it is here and how much they like more than the place they left. Almost in the same breath they will tell you how much better things were back home. Companies and agencies that have been exporting workers have reportedly held classes to teach their people how to blend in. They tell them to quickly get new license plates and driver’s licenses and to remove identifying features from their vehicles such as dealer stickers and bumper stickers of their favorite pro teams. They are told to avoid as much as possible disclosing where they are from as to not incite outrage and rejection. Most of the time they ignore this advice, acting though as if the natives should want to root for their teams and be more like them. They will openly display disdain for local teams. Unfortunately there is very little – if anything – our government can or will do to stop this invasion. In fact, some even encourage it so they can chart the growth of their communities and thus receive more tax dollars from Washington and more representation in Congress. Developers and real estate agents are more than happy for their migration because it means more business for them. Local school districts, however, are often stuck with the burden of overcrowded classrooms and a clash of cultures within their halls. It ain’t pretty. According to the most recent Census figures, more than 363,000 of these people moved to Texas over the past five years. This made the state grow twice as fast as the rest of the nation since 2000. That is just the number that has moved into Texas. That figure doesn’t count other states! Despite mass emigration, their homeland continues to increase in population. Is there no end to this madness? Before going any further I must confess one thing. My father, the one whose blood runs through my veins, is an immigrant from this foreign land. Granted he escaped to Colorado in the 1960s, long before the exodus, but he cannot hide the fact that he is – GASP! – a native Californian. There I said it. Even though I was born and raised in Colorado, I am descended from a Californian. And my mother – God bless her – came from Nebraska. Fortunately I have been able to rise above my parental heritage and wisely married a Texan. (I pause for a moment to let those who know me best to catch their breath. Yes, I grew up anti-Texan, but living here has helped me overcome most of that prejudice.) Colorado was overrun by Californians in the 1980s and ’90s. They drove housing prices through the roof, crowded the streets and schools and became staunch Democrats. Maybe someday they will leave and I can safely return with my family. Until that time, I am happy to make Texas my home … at least until Californians take over. Trust me, they will if we let them. You have been fairly warned. I now return you to your Thanksgiving holiday. Turkey anyone?

We need to stop this culture of divorce

There is a reason God says “I hate divorce”. Actually, there are many reasons for hating divorce. My first marriage ended in a divorce that was very much against my wishes. My wife’s first marriage ended for safety reasons. Our marriage has taken some mighty blows, but we have always stuck together. Our love and relationship have grown much stronger because of our commitment to God and each other. It saddens and infuriates me to see how flippant marriage is treated in the United States these days. There is a lot of buzz about reality TV star Kim Kardashian’s 72-day marriage to basketball player Kris Humphries. Hollywood is full of celebrity marriage shams, including the multiple, brief marriages of Elizabeth Taylor, Zsa Zsa Gabor, Shannen Doherty, Pamela Anderson, Lisa Marie Presley, Rick Salomon, Nicolas Cage, and Drew Barrymore; Britney Spears’ 55-hour debacle; the refusal of stars such as Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt to make their live-ins legal; and so on. There is also the issue of same-sex marriage, but that is a topic for another day. Nonetheless, it is another cultural assault on marriage. What really galls me is how the legal system treats divorce. How many billboards and advertisements do we see from lawyers pitching “easy” and “quick” divorces? How many divorce-made-easy books and websites are out there now? When was the last time a judge refused to grant a divorce? The no-fault divorce laws make not only a mockery of marriage, but also of contracts, vows, commitment, honesty and integrity. I have yet to see a divorce where there wasn’t fault or blame involved. Whether one or both spouses are to blame, there is fault to be found. It is my belief that the guilty party or parties should be held legally accountable for their actions. If a person cheats on their spouse, becomes abusive or neglectful, or causes irreparable harm to the marriage in some way, they should be held liable and fully responsible for their offense. That a spouse could cheat on a marriage and walk away with half the income and the kids is absurdly unfair and reprehensible for the courts to uphold. But it happens every day and the problem is escalating. When a man and a woman get married, they make a moral and legally-binding contract. It is a vow, a commitment for life. The wording of the marriage vows does not include an escape clause. When children are born to the marriage, the obligation and commitment deepen. When a couple divorces, the courts focus on “what’s best for the child”. What a farce! What is best for the child is to live safe and secure in their own home with both parents. Failure of our courts and our culture to support this is a travesty and a crime in itself. There are many child advocacy groups. In some divorce cases, even the children get an attorney to look out for them. Where are the marriage advocates? Where are those who will stand up in defense of a struggling marriage? Who will help a couple overcome their problems and restore their relationship? If a business breaks a contract, there are legal remedies and ramifications. If a spouse breaks the marriage contract, not only are there no penalties, but the system is geared toward dissolving the contract, not enforcing it. The victims of such cases are left with devastation and financial ruin much of the time. Culturally, Americans are a greedy, self-centered lot whose word – even in writing – isn’t worth a hill of beans. Even outside the realm of marriage, our $15 trillion debt tells the world how untrustworthy we are. When you couple that with the staggering personal debt load the average American carries, it’s no wonder we’re in a deep recession. We are a society that will sacrifice the future to meet our greed for the moment. We do it with stuff and we do it with people, especially those we love. Most marriages end because of selfishness. Whether it’s an affair or money problems, the root is almost always because one partner has placed their wants above the needs of the other and their relationship. The baby boomers were once called the “me generation”. What they have produced are successive “me” generations. It’s an attitude and a mindset that must transform into a “we” generation. We need to learn to sacrifice for others, to postpone gratification and to live responsibly. Only then can we expect to save marriages and families and to restore our financial, emotional and cultural wellbeing. Besides, if God hates divorce, shouldn’t we hate it too?

Favorite animals and childhood dreams are what grown-ups are made of

Several of us in Mrs. Weaver’s fifth grade class at Niwot (Colo.) Elementary School identified closely with a favorite animal.
Kevin liked rabbits. Billy liked chickens. Dale liked cows. Me? I like raccoons. I must have some fixation with masks being a Lone Ranger fan and all, but that’s a different story. The thing is, we country bumpkins were real serious about our animals. Even now my daughter is all about horses and my middle son can’t get enough information about sharks.
At one point back in the day, each of us had as a “pet” our favorite animal. My ownership of a coon was limited to a few days, as we caught the critter in the wild and it was far too old to tame. Kevin had rabbits for a Scout project and Billy and Dale lived on a hobby farm.
I have not given up hope of having a pet raccoon someday. I’d also like to see my daughter own horses. My son has bala sharks, which are a freshwater fish more akin to carp than actual sharks.
I don’t know about my other friends, but I still have a collection of toy raccoons and still have a very strong affinity for the critters, though nothing like I did when I was 10 years old. Those were the days when I was going to grow up to be a forest ranger. I had my whole life planned out. I was going to be a ranger, working in the Rocky Mountains and spend my time hiking, camping, climbing, fishing and hunting. And yes, I would have a pet raccoon.
Now that I’m in my midlife years with a journalism career where my forest ranger should be, a home far from the Rockies and a dog and two cats where the raccoon belongs, I can’t help but reflect on what might have been if that idealistic Boy Scout in me had not given up on his dream. Actually, the dream was never surrendered; it was sidetracked by the fascination of newspapers and the process of making pictures and words become a product you could hold in your hand.
I never did tire of the thrill of watching a black and white image emerge in a tray of developer under the red light of a darkroom. I love the creativity of photography and page design. I am still awed by the pleasure and power of the written word. The smell of ink is intoxicating. Ink stains, bitter coffee, fresh donuts and buzz of police scanners have been a huge part of my daily routine.
There is a certain feeling that comes from knowing your community intimately well and being known intimately well by your community. That’s been one of the unexpected benefits of being a journalist. I doubt I would have experienced that as a forest ranger. On the other hand, there are a lot of experiences I know I missed by not being the outdoorsman I thought I was going to be.
I refuse to look back with regret. My career is very rewarding. I’m more interested in seeing what my children choose for their careers. Heather, my daughter, is in college now. She is still very passionate about horses and art. I’ve tried very hard to encourage her to follow her dreams, as I do with my three sons as well. Wesley, the oldest, wants to be an engineer. He is very mechanically inclined and well suited for that.
Luke, my shark-loving middle son, wants to be a marine biologist. I’m behind him 100 percent on that. I’ve read enough Clive Cussler books to know how honorable and rewarding a career that can be. My youngest son, Colton, wants to go into the Army and design weapons. Fortunately he is still young enough to dream beyond mayhem and slaughter. Other than his fixation on science fiction weaponry, there really isn’t a violent bone in his body and I’m sure his loving and caring nature will soon manifest itself the more he discovers his passions in life.
Even if he does go on to become a weapons designer, I will do nothing to disparage him or crush his dreams, even if I don’t agree with it. All I ask of my children is that they grow in their faith in God and that they relentlessly pursue their dreams and do the best they can in all aspects of their lives.
As I look back on my life’s journey, I can’t help but feel that all proverbial bucket lists are filled with unfulfilled dreams. If we make those dreams our goals it gives us something to strive for. It gives us drive and passion and a compelling urge to move forward.
My dream of being a forest ranger is not likely to ever be fulfilled, and I’m fine with that. I have a wonderful career that has given me opportunities beyond anything I imagined as a child. I won’t give up on the dream of having a pet raccoon. It may be a childish dream, but look where those dreams of old have taken me. I look forward to the realms my new dreams will traverse. Where do you want your dreams to take you? I hope it’s someplace nice – someplace you’ve always dreamed about.