Spoiled rich kid who gave it all away

This is the day, February 24, when in 1209 Francis of Assisi believed that God called him to a life of poverty and preaching the Gospel.

Born in Assisi, Italy in 1182, Saint Francis probably didn’t ever go to school, but his dad was a rich merchant. That meant that he could live the life of a playboy when he was young. Then he was held captive for more than a year by another city-state at war with Assisi.

As a prisoner of war, he suffered from a terrible illness. He decided to change his ways. When he got home he helped lepers and helped rebuild churches. His father thought that he was wasting his money. He was so angry with Francis that he disinherited him. Francis became a priest. He continued to serve a leper colony and to restore old churches.

On this day, during Mass, he believed that he heard God tell him to go into the world, owning nothing, but doing good everywhere, just like Jesus told His original 12 Apostles in Matthew 10:5-14.

That same year he began a preaching ministry. 12 men became sort of disciples to him. They became the original monks in the Franciscan order.

He tried to do missionary work in Spain to preach to the Moors (Muslims). In 1219 he went to Egypt, where he preached to the sultan. From there he journeyed to “the Holy Land,” what is Israel today.

Now, as a Lutheran, I believe that the only mediator Christians need between ourselves and God the Father, is God the Son, Jesus Christ- be that as it may, we non-Catholic Christians can certainly learn a lot from early Church leaders and saints like Francis. For one thing, he set a tremendous example. Why does Matthew 10:5-14 or the Great Commission in Matthew 28:18-20 have to only apply to Jesus’ original 12 disciples. Shouldn’t everyone who claims to believe in Jesus want to go out and continue His ministry?

Francis also left us a tremendous gift in a famous prayer that he wrote. I had a colleague who taught with me at a Lutheran school, who grew up in a community of staunch Irish Catholics. He always amazed me not just by the fact that he had this pray memorized, but in spite of knowing it so well, he always recited it with such genuine passion and commitment. It was never stale or rote. Too often too many of us mumble through the words of prayers as if we’re only going through the motions.

It’s a beautiful prayer and if you’re one for learning prayers by heart and you’ve already got the Lord’s prayer, the serenity prayer, or the Jabez prayer down pat, this is one which will no doubt bring you great comfort and I hope you’ll treasure:

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred . . . let me sow love
Where there is injury . . . pardon
Where there is doubt . . . faith
Where there is despair . . .hope
Where there is darkness . . . light
Where there is sadness . . .joy
Divine Master,
grant that i may not so much seek
To be consoled . . .as to console
To be understood . . .as to understand,
To be loved . . . as to love
For it is in giving . . .that we receive,
It is in pardoning, that we are pardoned,
It is in dying . . .that we are born to eternal life”
In Jesus’ name,
Amen"

Rocky Mountain News: State

Rocky Mountain News: State: "He was Hunter Stockton Thompson, creator of 'gonzo journalism,' protagonist of two motion pictures, inspiration for a comic strip anti-hero, and, as of Sunday night, suicide victim, a man who, like Ernest Hemingway, an artist he greatly admired, lost control of his will to live and put his own gun to his head. "

English teachers often reccomend reading authors who you want to write like.
Unfortunately, I loved reading Hunter S. thomson in high school and college. I certainly would never advocate or even emulate his lifestyle, but his writing is a lot of fun to read.

What Do Teachers Make?

What Do Teachers Make?
This was recently emailed to me by a former colleague.

The dinner guests were sitting around the table discussing life. One man, a CEO, decided to explain the problem with education. He argued,"What's a kid going to learn from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"

He reminded the other dinner guests what they say about teachers:"Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach." To corroborate his point he said to another guest; "You're a teacher, Susan. Be honest. What do you make?"

Susan, who had a reputation for honesty and frankness, replied, "You want to know what I make? I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could. I make a C+ feel like the winner of the Congressional Medal of Honor. I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall in absolute silence."

"You want to know what I make? I make kids wonder. I make them question. I make them criticize. I make them apologize and mean it. I make them write. I make them read, read, read. I make them show all their work in math and perfect their final drafts in English."

"I make them understand that if you have the brains, and follow your heart, if someone ever tries to judge you by what you make, you must pay no attention because they just didn't learn."

"Susan paused and then continued, "You want to know what I make? I make a difference. What do you make?"

Girl Trouble

All kinds of people have been telling me that I need to write about our new baby’s arrival, but I really want to share with you that word is spreading about the February Alternative Holiday is spreading. I have a friend, Tom, who is a middle school Social Studies teacher in Wisconsin. Here is what he emailed me:

“Congratulations, Dad!!!! Cigars all around!! I was just thinking of you actually. My students and are going to celebrate a dual holiday on Monday. We are not only celebrating Valentine's day but also Arizona Statehood Day. (Some spicy food for WI people would be good for their soul, especially in the middle of winter.) I figure some South Western cuisine is in order. Is there anything else that would be truly authentic Arizona fare? (I thought we could have grandparents come in at one point to simulate Sun City, but that is probably pushing it a bit.)”

I directed him to my last column on the web at my blog since half of that column was devoted to how to celebrate Arizona Statehood Day (February 14, 1912). Here was his reply:

“I liked the article. We'll all have a Barry Goldwater dress-up contest and drink Arizona Ice Tea! Actually, I think my class and I will have a southwestern pot luck lunch on Monday. We have some of the preliminary decorations done. My bulletin board has a sandy desert-scape with saguaro cacti wearing sunglasses. Our school has one of those bulletin board die cutter machines so we have orange letters saying "Happy Arizona Statehood Day". We'll then put up stars with all the kids' names on them. Chips, salsa and chili will be the menu of Monday. My 8th graders are pumped about this. Holly (Tom’s wife) suggested that I have the kids find out as many different facts about Arizona as possible in a kind of Scategories format. The winner gets a prize or extra credit or something. The 7th graders were teasing the 8th graders about their bulletin board, though. They said that the sand dunes looked like potatoes. I'd have to agree with the 7th graders. As I look at the board, it DOES look like somebody up-ended giant potatoes on the board. Funny! “

So, perhaps Valentine’s Day’s days are numbered, at least here in the upper Midwest. Or maybe not, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.

So what can I tell ya? There’s a lot less sleeping going on in the Mallory home. We were expecting a new arrival on or around February 23rd. We scheduled a cesarean-section for February 18th. We got our third little girl on Sunday the 6th. Nothing ever goes quite as planned.

When our first daughter, Grace was born, I believe we even went in for an exam a couple of days after her due date. It was a nightmare for first-time parents. It was a huge, unfriendly HMO in a tough part of the Valley.

We were there for three or four days. The doctors and nurses all changed every shift. Some of them didn’t speak English, at least many of them had thick accents from all over the world. Late one night there was a loud argument out at the nurse’s station. The U.S. war in Kosovo was on CNN and it turned out that our OB was a Serb and one of our nurses was a Croatian.

The HMO’s policies were Hell-bent on natural childbirth, so Grace had to be in severe distress, with the chord wrapped around her neck before they finally took her by c-section.

It was much more comfortable having Ellie at the hospital in Denison. She came a few weeks early. We had just signed the release forms to schedule her c-section at Dr. Crabb’s office. He jokingly warned us that “90% of all couples go into labor as soon as they schedule these things.” Sure enough, it was 2 the next morning that we had to rush to Crawford County Memorial.

Annamarie was early too. We’d been having some concerns about her heart rate and amniotic fluid, so we had an appointment scheduled for Monday the 7th with a specialist in Omaha. Annamarie, obviously had a different idea.

Everything happened to quick to remember. We called in the morning with a question, we checked in for a test around Noon, by 1:57 we had a baby.

Bethany and Annamarie finally came home on Thursday the 10th. Grace wants to help change diapers and would like to bring the baby to school for show and tell. Ellie desperately missed her Mom, and could not sleep the first night. She finally got down sometime after ten. Annamarie needed feeding after Midnight, and I did my best to help. When she woke up again at 3:30 in the morning, Ellie woke up too and she never really went back to sleep. It must be hard being a middle-child.

As soon as Dr.Crabb delivered Annamarie he said “this is the one that will give you all the trouble!” I told him that we all ready had one who gives us all kinds of trouble.

He must have assumed that I wanted a boy (I sincerely didn’t have a preference either way) because he tried to console me, “Not to worry,” he said, “with three girls, there are bound to be boys.”

Our nurse actually had some specific advice; “Start adding five more bathrooms to your house.”

When behavioralist reseacher B.F.Skinner was in his 90's he admited that he and his lab assistance used to bet on which rats would make it through their maze quickest. But instead of money, the losers had to volunteer for experiments in electroconvulsion. Skinner declined to comment on how often he lost.
Mallory

Ted's Blogs

Howdy. Mallory's my name, bloggings my game. This habbit of mine is starting to get a little out of hand, so I thought I should remind regular readers and casual passers-by that there is a lot more here than just here. Consider surfing one of our other fine features:

Ted's Column- You are here.
http://tedscolumn.blogspot.com
My weekly columns from the Charter Oak-Ute NEWSpaper, as well as other rants on sex, politics, and religion- basically my "flagship" website. Yeah the weekly columns are too long, but I'm workin' on it, and hey- there's lots of other short little things too. Nobody ever enters comments or signs the guestbook, but hey that's the WWW millions of people doing their own thing as if everyone was gonna see it, but no one does. Whine.

BV Cheer Site
http://www.leaguelineup.com/purplecheer
The offical (yet unauthorized) site for Boyer Valley Bulldogs' Cheerleading. Yes, it's true, I'm a guy, yet I coach cheerleading. Both Junior High and Varsity. You don't meet someone like me everyday. I keep waiting for a book offer but they don't come. The stories I could tell you. Anyway, this is the website I put together for our squads. Some of the links are fun, like "flying guy" or my favorite, "the Mah na mah na song." There's a great photo album too. Don't forget to sign the guestbook.

Coach's Blog
http://cheercoach.blogspot.com
Bulldog Cheer Coach’s Blog- follow our season, as well as other notes on school spirit and positive thinking.


Pics & Picks
http://malloryart.blogspot.com
My Artworks, as well as those of my students, and some famous paintings too- updated all the damn time! Leave a coment on anything you like. Did I mention that I teach Art?

My 1st Yr of columns
http://www.geocities.com/teds_column
My First year of Columns, back in 2001-2002. Great picture of me sucking Jello at a pep rally.

Journalism Coach-NEW!
http://stupub.blogspot.com/
Things to help Newspaper and Yearbook students- Order a yearbook, place an ad, and see copies of 'the Valley PRESS' here or pick up a few jokes that only copy editors can love.

St. John LYF
http://stjlyf.blogspot.com
Mr.Mallory is also Youth Counselor at St. John Lutheran in Charter Oak (LCMS). News and updates for/about our youth group.

Prayer Blog
http://malloryprayer.blogspot.com
Prayer Blog- all new, prayers, devotions, and quotes about prayer- my personal favorite. Click to make a prayer request.

From way back in'90 or '91. Since basically there's 6 corporations that control all the major news outlets it's still pretty true, although I personally think that the press is a lap-dog for President Bush. But I still like it anyway.
Mallory

Female figure in wash, 1992. The assignment was exaggeration.
Mallory

Great quote

"If liberty means anything at all, it means the right to tell people what they do not want to hear."
— George Orwell

Justin Tedford

Justin Tedford's Photography website
Justin is a student of mine. He's our Yearbook's Photo Editor. He's trying to break into the biz, so if you need somebody for your wedding or graduation- look him up.

"Art must be an expression of love
or it is nothing
~Marc Chagall
Mallory

Self-Portrait, pencil, charcoal, and conte. 2000
Mallory

Digital image, created in Adobe Photoshop, 2005
Mallory

Sad. Ceramics, 2002
Mallory

Hand. Chalk on black paper, 2000
Mallory

After the concert, 2003
Mallory

That time of year again

So I’m looking through half a dozen isles in Wal-Mart trying to find the right Valentines for my daughter to distribute at school and probably at the baby-sitter and no doubt at dance and gymnastics class too, when it dawns on me what a sucker I’ve become. I am a victim of the Candy-and-Greeting Cards-industrial complex.

Over the last fourteen years of marriage my beloved wife has come to accept and to some extent even accept our religious differences. Oh, we’re both Christians, but she understands that I refuse to observe this decadent, saccharine, pink and red excuse for sappiness and sentimentality that in spite of how unreligious and commercially exploitative it is, people cal Saint Valentine’s Day.

She loves me and knows that I love her, but now, finally, since I have a child in school, I have stooped to caving in to peer pressure. Rather than dig in my heels and try to teach my children that we should not be afraid to be different and that sometimes we may have to buck the dominant culture, I buckled under and purchased not one, but two bags of Sponge-Bob Valentines. I wonder if this is how Atheists and Jews feel at Christmas time.

Not that she needs them. Just this morning I caught her writing to a young boy in her class that she likes him on one of my Post-It notes that she snagged from my Day-Runner.

In the interest of promoting tolerance for my fellow non-Valentine’s-celebrators and as a public service for those of you who may be alone, lonely, burned, bummed or merely irritated by all of this cute, cuddly, and confectionery revelry- I’d like to remind my readers of the alternative holiday on February 14th, Arizona Statehood Day.

Oh, I know, you’re not all Arizona natives like I am, but may I remind you that perhaps the most famous Arizonan, Marshall Wyatt Earp of “Shoot out at the O.K. Corrall” fame was in fact an Iowa native. And after all, if you simply play a game of six degrees of separation, I’m sure that each of you can think of at least one close relative or dear friend that you know of who is now in, or at least spends some time in the Grand Canyon State. Many is the Ioweagian, who makes a perennial sojourn to the Southwest during this very time of year.

“Ted, how can we recognize this the 93rd anniversary of our 48th state? What kinds of things can we do to celebrate Arizona Statehood Day in our homes and with our families?” I hear you asking. I am so glad you asked, because I would like to suggest just a few:

Read a novel about Arizona by best selling author Tony Hillerman about Navajo Indian Reservation police detective Chee, or by J.A. Jance, about Cochise County Sheriff Joanna Brady. Or, if you prefer a rootin’ tootin’ western to a murder mystery, there’s always Arizona’s own Zane Grey, second only to Louis L’more in the genre.

Prefer non-fiction? How about a biography on one of two of the greatest politicians in American History, Barry Goldwater or John McCain? I know kids who think they’re Republicans but have never even heard of old “Mr. Conservative” Goldwater. Alas, I weep for my country.

Rent a movie. There have been plenty of fine films just about Old Wyatt Earp and how he enforced frontier justice with his brothers and the legendary Doc Holiday down in Tombstone. I enjoyed Kurt Russell’s portrayal more than Kevin Costner’s myself, but Coster’s version has a terrific performance by Val Kilmer as Doc. Of course, you may prefer to get your hands on a black and white “My Clemontine” starring Henry Fonda, and who could blame you.
Of course, almost every movie that either Clint Eastwood or John Wayne made were filmed in Arizona, even if they were supposed to take place in Texas or Mexico. Two dead giveaways; Monument Valley in the background, or Saguaro Cati. (Cati is plural for Cactus for you greengos, and Saguaros only grow in one place in the world, kind of like Loess soil is only here and China.)

You could listen to some Arizona music. Waylon Jennings earned his wings there, Glenn Campell still lives and golfs there, and of course there’s always George Straight’s classic “Ocean Front Property in Arizona.” But, if Country is not your thing, “The Tubes” and “Mister Mister” are great 80’s bands that both hail from the Valley of the Sun. And if you’re looking for something from the 60’s or 70’s, Stevie Nix and Alice Cooper both call the “Arid-Zone” home.

I’m lobbying hard to get FTD to deliver bouquets of ocotillo, perhaps with tumbleweed accents. Who wouldn’t love to receive a scorpion or rattle snake paperweight on February 14th? And if they can charge and arm and a leg for a Vermont Teddybear on Valentine’s, why not go online to order a Sonoran Kachina doll? If a pajama-gram, why not a Navajo rug or a pair of Apache Moccasins?

If none of this is within your means, at least you can wear a bolo tie (the official state neckwear of Arizona, the only state to have an official state neckwear) and enjoy some nachos with a margarita or a cold Mexican cervesa (that’s Español for beer).

A work of art.
Mallory

:)
Mallory

Yeah!!!
Mallory

Yeah!!!
Mallory

2-6-05
7 lb, 7 oz
19 in
Mallory

Annamarie

Annamarie Carolyn Mallory

Born: 1:57 pm Sunday, February 67 lb, 7 oz, 19 in long, 35 cm head

LOUD and proud!

Both Mom and Annamarie are well. Dad and both big sisters are all thrilled.

Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers!

"This is not Magritte," Digital image created in Photoshop, 2005
I made this to go with my favorite poem. I think it's about the "suits." You know suits, those are people who've lost their souls, they're so focused on material gain or career success, that they're just an empty suit.
The Hollow Men
T. S. Eliot (1925)
I
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.
II
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.
Let me be no nearer
In death's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat's coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer --
Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom
III
This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.
Is it like this
In death's other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.
IV
The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death's twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.
V
Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o'clock in the morning.
Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long
Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

Mallory

Digital Image created in photoshop, 2004
Artist Statement:
My Senior Show at Concordia was entitled “Buffalo Wings.” A buffalo with wings might be lot like a bull in a china shop.
What do these heavy metaphors have to do with me and my work? I hope it is boldness. The American bison is such stank of a beast that in some ways it looks and moves clumsily, but has something that no other animal has quite as much of- momentum. You know when and where a buffalo roams. They make an impact. You may not think they’re just as pretty as a dear, but by God, nothing stops ‘em!
So why is it so hard to imagine one in flight? Why should only light, dainty things gets chance to wander through the heavens? Let ma tell you, if buffaloes could fly, no one would dare tell them where they could or couldn’t do it. So maybe I’m slow, maybe I’m stubborn, maybe I’m too bold.
I am a firm believer in democratic art, democratic art is the kind of Art in which anyone can partake, whether your style is likes gossamer wing or like a chicken wing smothered in hot sauce with a side of blue cheese dressing and celery. Whether you have momentum or know-how or nothin’. Your Art may not “fly in Peoria,” it just may require a leap of faith, but even if it looks like it’s only free-fall, for a fleeting second we all can fly.
I am like the grazing buffalo on the plains. You may, like sharp shooters, take aim and bring me to extinction. Or, you may glance for a moment and return to your business like settlers riding west on the trains. You may even spend a few moments thinking of me as an awkwardly bold and primitive curiosity as perhaps the pioneers did.
You may very well glean something of value like the Native Americans, who characterized the Great Spirit as a snow-white buffalo that guided his herds to fertile prairies.
I hope, if nothing else, you come to know where I have roamed.

Mallory

Biography:

Drawn on a mirror with one eye closed. This was an exercise I had students do in my class "Introduction to Drawing and Seeing,"



Biography:

I got my B.S.Ed in History end Art from Concordia University, Nebraska in 1993. Concordia boasts a nationally renown Art Department. There, I was privileged to study under the likes of William R. Wolfram, Richard Wiegmann. Lynn Soloway, Donald Dynnison and sound-sculptor and investor, Reinhold Peiper Marxhausen .



In 1993 I began teaching at Los Angeles Lutheran Junior/Senior High School. Coincidentally LALHS is the Alma Mater of Wiegmann. Once in L.A I quickly sought the wise counsel of former LALHS art teachers Roland Sylwester, and the eminent water colorist, author and art educator, Gerald F. Brommer.



In 2000 I began teaching at Boyer Valley Community Schools in Dunlap, Iowa.

The Gospel According to Nashville

There’s an old stereotype of Country music that suggests that all Country singers ever sing about is drinkin, cheatin, old dogs, and pick-up trucks. People assume that Country is low-brow fare fit for only Honkytonks and NASCAR parties.

Actually, Country music today is deeper and expresses powerful values that put top 40, adult contemporary, and hip hop all to shame.

Look no further than recent hits like Tim McGraw’s “Live Like You Were Dying” or “I Hate Everything” by George Strait. McGraw sings of the importance of living like every minute counts and King George’s hit is a sheep in wolves clothing. At first listen, you might assume that it’s just another sad bar ballad, but instead, he’s using irony to show how we shouldn’t take our loved ones for granted.

If you’ve been reading this column for a long time, you know that I share a lot of the values that Garth Brooks sang about in “We Shall Be Free:”

“When the last child cries for a crust of bread When the last man dies for just
words that he said When there's shelter over the poorest head We shall be free”

One of my favorite bands, Sawyer Band put out an entire album in 2003, “True Believer” in which every song dealt with faith and Spirituality. Mark Miller sings a great song called “800 Pound Jesus” on that one.

A recent song that will tear your heart out is “God’s Will” by Martina McBride. It’s about a handicapped little boy who’s indelible spirit and positive attitude touches and teaches the adults around him about God’s unconditional love.

Salem College, in Winston-Salem, N.C. offers an entire class devoted to the study of Martina McBride's music. English professor Dr. Ron DePeter uses McBride's songs and videos to examine woman's experiences.

A song from a few years back that brings me to tears is “The Little Girl" by John Micheal Montgomery. Teachers who’ve ever encountered a foster child know this one. I hope that people are praying for the infant that was taken into protective custody in the meth bust last week.

The story line of Montgomery’s song has a neglected little girl placed into a loving home:

“Her first day of Sunday school the teacher walked in,And a small little
girl,Stared a picture of Him.She said I know that man up there on that cross,I
don't know His name,But I know He got off. 'Cause he was there in my old
house And held me close to His side.As I hid there, behind our couch,The night
that my parents died.”

Not every Country song is so idealistic, though. Alan Jackson’s “Monday Morning Church” is a brutally honest look at grief. The man in this song isn’t afraid to admit that he’s angry at God and feels abandoned and lost after the death of his wife.

For my money the greatest song of all time- in Country, or any other genre has to be “Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning)” by Alan Jackson. Not only did he capture the disillusionment and confusion that we all felt on September 11, 2001, but he went further and reminded us to depend on God and to respond to tragedy with love (1 Corinthians 13:13).

The flip side to Jackson’s song may be Toby Keith’s “Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue.” Don’t get me wrong, this battle hymn embodies the justified anger, the righteous indignation that we all felt about the World Trade Center attack, but unfortunately, since then it’s been turned into a sort of school fight song for our militaristic policies. A lot of Toby’s songs are just about having fun, but one of his best is “My List,” where he asks us to slow down and think about what’s really important to us- our busy schedules, or spending time with the people we treasure.

I happen to be a big Jimmy Buffet fan. I love listening to him sing about beaches and margaritas and cheeseburgers. Lately, high school kids have really been getting into Kenny Chesney, who seems to have taken to Buffet’s Island themes like a, well, like a fish takes to water. But a few years back there was a Country-Calypso tune that reminded you to think before jumping off the deep end. Clay Walker sang about cheatin’ in a pretty mature way”

“Then what, where you gonna turn When you cant turn back for the bridges you
burn And fate can't wait to kick you in the butt Then what?”

So don’t let anyone look down on you for loving your Country music, because you could learn a lot by listening to Country. But don’t tell your kids about this. As soon as they think it’s good for them, they’ll hate it. It’s like eating their vegetables. So, if you want your kids to pick up good values from their music- tell them that they’re not allowed to listen to Country anymore.

Make up some excuse, like that all Country music is just about dogs and trucks and drinkin' and cheatin. If they think that you think it’s bad for them, they’ll start playing it all day long. Then you can enjoy what they listen to for a change- just be careful to no look like you’re enjoying it.

Hawkish, pen and ink. Date unknown, I came upon this when I was cleaning up today. I can't remember if I did this in college for either Commercial Illustration or 2D classes, or if I did it way back as a Senior in high school for Commercial Graphics class. It will work well to show my 7th graders since we're studying surrealism. I don't know if it has any pseudo-patriotic or militaristic symbolism or not, I'll leave that to the viewer to interpret for themselves.
Mallory