Spirit of a Nation

By Jillian Maas Backman

Although we have never met in person, I feel as though we have been dearest friends forever.  Let us celebrate this valentine sentiment together in love.  The type of love that grows into maturity over time.  The spiritual union between America and its people.

As we watch the current events unfold in Egypt and cannot help, we can however identify with the struggles and triumphs ahead on their journey towards loving freedom.  Oh, how we know the growing pains of that evolution.  Collectively experiencing good and bad memorable moments together for centuries.  Falling in and out of love with each other.  Taking out our personal frustrations publicly over hot monumental issues of the day.  Losing precious life’s over cultural differences.  Learning the hard lessons of forgiveness when necessary.  All feeble attempts to suck the life out of our exuberant American essence we call home.  Yet, through it all, never losing sight of our unbreakable intimate bond we have to one another.

 I cannot begin to imagine the pain and suffering one goes through when your country experiences a global identity crisis.  Living with the constant uncertainty if you next door neighbor is really friend or foe.  The thought of this kind of assault landing in our own communities is simply inconceivable.  Nevertheless, sadly, it does. 

Our homes represent the physical structure where all American souls beat in unison.  Our wants are all the same.  To live a life greater than the generation before us.  Where the children can rest comfortably at night knowing all is well and filled with bright tomorrows.  When the unrest of the world burrows its way into our sacred space, horrible things begin to happen.  When we argue amongst ourselves, all heart fills with unbearable immeasurable remorse.  When we murder one another, a piece from all of us goes home with them.  

When we abuse each other, a bruise is left behind on all of us as a shameful reminder never to forget.  Ignorant cruelty separates us from the sincere intentions of Valentine’s Day.  The commitment to love one another until death do us part.  Hold fast to this spiritual vow of being soulfully tenderhearted. 

Our American neighborhoods are meant to secure the salt of the earth attitudes we hold precious in our minds.  A haven from all the cares in the world.  Where groups gathering yearly on the side streets to celebrate the marching band during the Fourth of July parades.  With joyful parents beaming ear-to-ear with un-banished pride.  Dragging your life partner to a crazy over- the- top car show that comes to town every so often.  Moreover, you in turn, go see the cheekiest girl flick ever to even the score.  Ahh, we are so very lucky to have such a simple privileged life. 

Treasure quiet moments alone when the world is not looking.  Let your guard down and be yourself in all its silly glory.  Cook in your underwear together when no one is the wiser.  Watch useless TV if you want to. Keeping your words gentle between each other.  Standing side- by- side to battle the evils of this world.  Encourage with firm, but loving intent, to coax another back on track with goals and aspirations.  Plant yourself firmly on the front lines together to see the job to completion.  Intuitively listening to each other.  Know when hurt feelings have come your way.  Followed graciously with a sincere apology for any misunderstandings.  Embrace your collective soul mates you love unconditionally; friends, brothers, sisters, parents, cats and doggies, children, partners.  Just because you can! 

There are many who have lost the chance to host ridiculous skirmishes over the dumbest things.  Like the toilet paper roll pulling from the top or the bottom.  Victims who will never know how it feels to have someone in life to bicker over such insignificant matters.  The ability to grow old together and say, “I love you my dear” on any day, let alone on this prestigious Valentine holiday.

Happy Valentine Week to you and your loved one.

In loving humbleness, Jillian Maas Backman

Survival Day!

By Karen Rae Elkins

Gulf Coast fishermen are in survival mode by now. It's the same survival mode that victims of violence use to get through and explosive situation. It's all about survival. April 22nd, forty-one days and nights have passed by since oil seeped from the deep unsettled waters to kill, steal and destroy the riches of fishing. Having been dealt a hard blow to their way of life and their livelihood, my heart goes out to my fishing brothers. I know you are grieving. I am sad with you.  I share your love for the water and know what it is like to have your life torn apart because of someone else's abuse, be it from negligence, lack of protection, or disregard of the laws. Just getting over the initial shock takes time. My oil spill was domestic violence. 

I can't pinpoint the day I let someone abuse me but I remember the day I left. His words were calculated and well rehearsed. My bags and tackle were still in the car. I had driven home from a fishing event in Dallas, Tx. I went to the kitchen to get a bite to eat and he said, "If you are going to continue to fish, we need to make other arrangements." Tears filled my eyes as I thought of a life without fishing. My first thought was, "please don't make me quit." and then it came to me. "just leave". The words I used were much more colorful but not meant for print. I left and I never turned back.

I spent years trying to clean up the mess in silence. Today marks 365 days past my Declaration of Independence from the silent shame of abuse. It's my day. A year ago, I questioned my sanity as I wrote my first blog. I thought telling the world about abuse would be the death of me but it was the birth of a new me. 

It is with confidence that I say to my brothers and sisters, turn your tragedy into triumph. Be the driver of your boat in rough seas and low tides Hold on to the hope that tomorrow will be a better day. Never, ever forget your love for fishing. Never lose the life lessons taught on the water. Remember the days of plenty. Be thankful for each new dawn. Throw an anchor out every once and awhile to rest. Fish steady in all you do until you navigate a way back to calm waters.  

The abuses you are suffering right now are temporary. It may seem like the challenges are never ending. Cast off your fears. You're got to fight for yourself, because in the end, no one can fight your fight. Look to God, not man,  to give you grace, strength, and wisdom. In the middle of the turmoil you will form lifelong bonds that will never be broken. In these demanding times, you will find out who your friends are. Friends are discovered treasures along the way back to the water. They will open their mind, extend their heart, and offer their hand to lift you up when you are laying there on the ground deciding whether or not to get up. 

Because it is my day, and I am Captain of my ship, I'm celebrating my independence, not with fireworks but with a fire for fishing. Today is my gift to me. The forecast calls for afternoon storms, but weathermen lie. The alarm will wake me around 3 am and by 3:30 I'll be on the road to Karen's Lake. I'm meeting Jeff for a scouting expedition. I bought myself a gift for my independence day. It's no surprise that the gift to and from me is fishing related. I'll have the secret tackle tied to my new Greg's Custom Rods topwater/jerkbait rod. Greg made the rod to my specifications. He is without a doubt one of the best rodsmith's in the US  You're gonna love the inscription, Fish Steady. I'm proud to carry the rod. The color scheme is purple, the color symbolizing Domestic Violence, and white, the color of peace. 

At 4 pm eastern time, log on to the Susan Murphy-Milano Show. I'll be her guest! I'm certain this is a God Appointment, because neither one of us planned to talk on my Independence Day. It just happened. 

Cell service on any lake can be a testament to, "Can you hear me now"? The timing is a perfect break. I'll come off the water. Susan and I will talk. God will be there with us, guiding the conversation. Jeff will leave my boat for Lee's boat and Shelia will be joining me in my boat. We're entering a "private, by invitation only" tournament. Jamie and Kevin will be there, so will Joseph and Cecile. Shelia and I are the only female/female team in this band of fishermen. I'm sure the guys didn't expect me to bring a woman to the tournament when they invited me to join. This is our third event together. I had the camera. I should have taken pictures of their faces when Shelia and I paid our entry fee for the first event. The tournament is a 3 fish limit in three hours event. It ends at 9pm. 

Regardless of our finish, the day will end well. I'll load the boat and get it ready for Thursday. I'll be fishing when the sun comes up until the moon hangs high in the sky. It's my day, again. Life is what you make it.... make it good, even when it's not.

Fish Steady my friends, until next time. karen

From Bondage to Freedom

By Robert L. Carpenter

There is a story in the Old Testament that tells us about the children of Israel while they were in Egypt. There were literally millions of men, women, and children living in Egypt under Pharoah’s rule and reign. Generations of families had been born and died in Egypt.

Egypt was a place of bondage and slavery for the Israelites. Night and day all they did was serve Pharaoh, who was a ruthless, arrogant and selfish dictator. Their life was not their own.

Also, Egypt was a place of depression. Many of the Israelites felt like they would never be able to leave Egypt and it depressed them. Although they knew they did not have to be in Egypt, and although they knew that there was a better place for them somewhere out there, they were manipulated to think that they would always have to remain in Egypt. Consequently, many became depressed.

Egypt was also a place of poverty. Nothing that they earned, which was virtually nothing, was theirs. Pharaoh could, at any given time, take what they had earned and restrict what they could have in their possession. Egypt was a horrible place of overwhelming despair. It was not the place that they were destined to be.

One significant point that I ascertained from this story was that the children of Israel were only a day’s journey from their “Promised Land.” The Promised Land was a place of freedom. The Promised Land was a place of prosperity. The Promised Land was a place of new beginnings, but because the Israelites became comfortable in their discomfort, it took many years before they crossed over into the Promised Land. As a matter of fact, many generations of families died in Egypt and were not even given a proper burial.

There are multiplied millions of women in America who are right now in their own personal Egypt. They are in a place of bondage. They are in a place that they know they aren’t supposed to be. They are in a place of poverty. They are in a state of depression, just like the children of Israel. Their “Pharoah” has convinced them that they cannot have freedom. Their Pharaoh has convinced them that they cannot make it to their “promised land.” Their Pharaoh has told them that their quality of life will not improve. They have been manipulated and forced to believe that there is no way out. They have been told this is the way it is.

However, it only takes a day to change from bondage to freedom. It only takes determination to get out of Egypt. It only takes a revelation of knowing what they deserve in life. It takes a day to move into the Promised Land, which is a place of celebration, newness of life and prosperity.

Time’s up! It’s time to let our women know they don’t have to remain in bondage. Get the kids. Stop the generational cycle. Stop the madness and move from bondage to freedom today!