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I was unaware, Viv, that any display of faith is against the law in Texas. Unfortunately, that is not what the Supreme Court said in its decision. Basically, what they said is that coercion of students to a particular faith is not in accordance with the constitution. Secularism is a favorite dogma of liberals, and they took it a step further.
In Pennsylvania, the study of the history as put forth in the bible is not against the law, so long as it is in context with other documentation of history. Conversely, it is perfectly legal for students to form a bible study group or club, and to meet on school grounds during regular club periods. It is also legal for parents to have their children released once a week for religious instruction outside the schools. This is called bible release time. I oppose that, as it takes away from regular instructional time in which teachers are supposed to be teaching reading writing and 'rithmatick. My basic feeling is that churches should teach children religion, since they would do a better job of it than would I.
trkyhntr
Miss Viv, I need to point out one tiny little thing, that being that God was not removed from the public schools in 1962. To be fair, what was removed was the force feeding of one particular religion to all students, that being the form of protestantism that was favored by the majority at the time. In the catholic parochial schools, the students were and still are force fed catholicism, and I have no problem with that. What I do and did take issue with is the institution of a particular religion in a publicly funded school. The last time I checked, any parent who felt the need could make sure his or her children learned religion and had discipline, although today, one might be tossed in the slammer for spanking his child. My kids grew up during that period, and both are quite religious, and take their kids to church and Sunday school. In my mind, it is a parent's responsibility to teach faith. I felt somewhat uncomfortable having my jewish students say the Lord's Prayer. In the public schools today, any student who wishes to do so can read his bible and is permitted to pray. He or she simply can't be forced to do so anymore. Lots of students said a prayer before my advanced biology tests.
What ruined the public schools, in my opinion (I taught through the entire period) was the removal of any responsibility on the part of students and parents, the dumbing down of the curriculum, and the promotion of student rights. Feel good education is the norm now. A happy parent is a joy forever, so give everyone an A or B. This has even spilled over into our colleges. The last time I took graduate level courses, the level of effort required to get an A was roughly what I had to put out to get a C in 1964.
Of course, about the same time, Dr. Spock in his famous book told us that spanking was horrible, and it was soon to be eliminated from any discipline in schools. Today, there is no effective discipline in the public schools. Kids have nothing to fear, and fear of punishment is the basis of discipline.
Another thing that has helped to ruin the public schools is what is termed, 'inclusion.' Another term for it is heterogeneous grouping.
I could go on forever, Viv, but I think you get the idea. If we were to pass a law that forced teachers to read the bible and to say a prayer in every class, it would have very little effect on the quality of education. What would help a great deal would be to have parents care about their kids education enough to go to school board meetings and insist upon quality.
Instead, parents complain because Johnny got a C from that mean old Mr. Kanoritz. Johnny never got anything below a B before.
If I sound bitter, Viv, it is because I am. I feel that during the 30 years I taught, the importance of a good education declined in our society. If people really cared about it, our schools would be wonderful. They don't. Instead, they want to place the blame for what is their responsibility on someone else. The schools are partly to blame, but there is plenty of blame to go around.
regards,
trkyhntr
Nah, you are right, NYC.
Many of us like to read about the chase and the hunt, but would rather not read about the guts and gore. I guess if one wants a bunch of that, one can visit the local abatoir.
On the other hand, I did enjoy hearing about Paule's pig hunt. If one point comes through loud and clear, it is that when we go hunting, things don't always turn out the way we expect them to turn out. In fact, usually they don't. I hope Paule and Pre are taking all of the wild boar meat home. Pig is pig, and a pig's butt is still pork, and pork is good to eat. I have never taken a wild pig, but would do so in a heartbeat, as it is among the best and tastiest of wild fare.
My son-in-law got one with a bow a few years back.
In January of 2003, my buddy Wayne and I are journeying to Mississippi. Wild pig is one of the animals on the agenda. Hope I get one.
trkyhntr
Sorry, Colt, but I gotta post an update on our 'camping trip' to North Carolina. Doris and I spent three days with the grandkids, got our obligatory cuddling in, and have returned home just a bit the worse for wear. During the trip, I did visit Outdoor World (Bass Pro Shop) near Concord and did purchase a few 'pretty things.' I got Doris a pair of convertable pants (you know, the ones where the legs zip off and convert into shorts?) and bought a couple of spoons and a pack of wire leaders. The spoons and leaders are for the trip to Alberta in June. Northern Pike sure do a job on monofilament line, so wire leaders are mandatory.
I can only take so much of my N C grandkids. They are spoiled beyond belief, and are extremely loud. I love them dearly, but if they were mine, they would have a sore butt until their behavior improved, or until child welfare put me in jail.
Went to the cabin this morning. Not one turkey gobbled, so I went two other places to check. Ditto. Turkey hunting might be a bit slim here this year.
regards to all, and happy camping,
trkyhntr
Happy Easter to all. We leave this morning for Charlotte and a bit of grandkid cuddling. See you all when I return on Sunday night.
trkyhntr
More, K2. We got nearly an inch and a half of rain yesterday.
Lake is filling nicely. Maybe God loves us after all.
trkyhntr
Africa is March 1-15 of 2003, K2. In the words of the immortal Tim, the tool man,
Uh,Uh,Uh,Uh,Uhhhhh.
trkyhntr
so far, no problem, ONEBGG.
trkyhntr
I mounted a Leupold 2x-7x on the monster this morning. After a few shots to sight it in, I fired a 1 1/2 inch group at 100 yards (5 shots). Total shots fired 10. No way in wherever that I could have taken 10 shots to the shoulder without the brake. I am a firm believer in not taking any more punishment than necessary to do the job. Actually, this baby is tolerable now. Bring on Colt's .460.
trkyhntr
With the brake, ONEBGG, this thing now kicks like my .300 WBY used to kick before I got a brake on it. Back to the good old days.
trkyhntr
Welcome Gnome.
trkyhntr
If you don't mind, Colt, I will carry my .44 mag hand cannon for a sidearm, and will use the .300 Wby for the long range stuff. It's a date. We go for Osamma, and any other rag-headed America-hater.
trkyhntr
I am a wimp. I had a muzzle brake installed on my shoulder mounted cannon, so the truck mounting kit is totally unnecessary now. I am taking the new toy out for groundhogs this afternoon. Colt, do you think the 400 grain solids would work on groundhogs? Which bullet do you use for groundhogs in your .460?
trkyhntr
In comparison, Colt, my hand-held canon with a 400 grain solid exiting the barrel at about 2450 ft per sec. generates about 5000 ft/lbs of muzzle energy. Tiny.
reference: Barnes manual #1; pages 145 and 311.
trkyhntr
My toy pales in comparison, Pre. Colt's comes complete with the truck mounting kit (LOL).
trkyhntr
OOPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
trkyhntr
It has always been a feeling I had that if they were going to give the world an enema, California would be the point of insertion. Perhaps at Cratar Lake?
tkryhntr
K2, it is raining here now. Not a driving downpour, but we will gladly accept what we get.
trkyhntr
Thanks for the link, Colt.
trkyhntr
excuse, please. Brain F@#t.
Colt, the rifle is a Model 70 Winchester Safari Classic. Calibre is .416 Rem Mag.
I also attend all the local benefit auctions. Safari Club, FNAWS, RMEF (The previous two are held in Hershey, PA), Ducks Unlimited, NWTF and anything else that comes along. Spent more than I would like to admit, but again, I don't want to even try taking it with me, and I don't see making the kids rich as an obligation.
The absolute last thing I want to have happen is for me to be lying on my deathbed and thinking to myself, "Boy, I wish I had--------."
My buddy Wayne is thinking about a .460 WBY. If he gets one, I am sure I will have to shoot it. You really need to take yours to Africa, Colt.
trkyhntr
Not a drop of rain here yet, K2. The mountains have disappeared in clouds this morning, so we have a pretty good chance of getting some today. Lordy, but we need some.
I would even take a foot of snow.
Enjoy your day at work, and remember that work is a four-letter word.
trkyhntr
Do it before you get too old to enjoy it, Colt.
You can't take it with you. Spend it here.
trkyhntr
Colt, last year I decided that I wanted to become a better offhand shot, so I went to Dicks Sporting goods and bought two bricks of .22 lr. Went to the range every day for a couple of weeks, and by the end of that time, I could get a decent group at 50 meters. I will probably not even shoot this .416 from the bench. What a power trip it is to shoot one of these big bores. The recoil is not just a shot to the shoulder, but to the whole body.
I shot a .458 win mag once, but never the big Wby. At the time it came out, it was billed as the most powerful rifle on earth. Ally Oop would have liked it for T rex.
trkyhntr
No rain or snow as yet, K2. The weather comedian still thinks we will get some. Wishful thinking? Maybe so.
After 30 years, it is time for Doris to get out while she still has some semblance of sanity left. We will be going to Charlotte to cuddle the NC grandkids this weekend. That will be nice.
Glad you enjoyed the story. Tom and I were great friends, but we had seen each other less than frequently until he was near death. I went to see him nearly every day for the last two weeks of his life. It is tough to watch a good friend die at the age of 62, but Tom lived his life to the fullest and probably had no regrets when he left this world. He was a raconteur without equal, and could regale a party for hours. Poetry was one of his great loves.
God, I hate getting old. I am losing all too many friends, and it stinks being the older generation. My 60-year-old body won't do what it did when I was 40, and there is so much hunting and fishing to do.
reminiscingtrkyhntr
Here goes, Paule. I may have posted this one before. My memory is not as good as K2's.
trkyhntr
The big setter was really working the covert, when his instincts told him to freeze. His sensitive nose had detected the scent of grouse, and that was all the stimulus he needed. His body seemed to rise off the ground, his head turned toward the bird and his tail rose to vertical. He was totally absorbed in this momentary event. It was, after all, just what he had been born to do.
The hunter stepped forward toward the motionless dog. “Steady, Billy. Hold steady,” he cautioned. His finger touched the safety of the Ithaca pump, but didn’t disengage it. Safety was a primary concern. Suddenly, a whirring of wings assaulted his senses and a brown rocket took flight. Many times this had happened before, so the rise of the shotgun was nearly instinctive. The grouse flew slightly left, putting a tree between the hunter and himself, but the maneuver was not successful. The hunter had observed this tactic before, and had taken two steps to his right, so when the grouse straightened his flight, he was in the open. His finger tightened on the trigger, the gun recoiled against his shoulder, and a charge of number sixes was sent on its way.
At the crack of the gun, the big setter broke point. Now there was a job to do, and he knew just how to do it. The grouse folded in mid air, and fell to the ground, beating his wings in the final death dance. Gently, he picked up the bird in his jaws, turned, and brought the bird to his master. As he approached, he could be forgiven if he didn’t notice a tear traveling down his master’s cheek. He was an English Setter, bred to hunt. Just a dog, but not really just a dog. He couldn’t know what emotions this scenario had engendered. He had done his job. His master’s praise was all he required.
The hunter’s memory took him back in time to a December day just a year ago. He had received a telephone call from Tom’s wife, Marilyn. At one time, he and Tom had been inseparable, but they had drifted apart in recent years. In fact, it had been over a year since they had seen each other. “Way too long,” he thought. Tom was good company, and they had consumed many a foamer together while discussing the world as it was and should be. Their common interest in all things wild and wonderful had drawn them together, and he wasn’t sure why they had drifted apart. He had to go to see Tom now, however. Marilyn had told him that Tom was fighting a battle with an opponent he couldn’t whip.
Regardless of how he had tried to prepare himself, he could hardly control his emotions when he approached his friend’s bed. The cancer had ravaged Tom’s mouth and jaw, and the surgeon had needed to remove most of his tongue and lower jaw. It was a miracle that he could even speak. “Good of you to come, Yum Yum. How’ve you been?”
“I’ve been OK, Watash, but it looks like you’ve seen better days.” His hands were shaking. It was obvious that his friend was dying, and their use of the old nicknames didn't make it any easier. For nearly fifteen minutes, the two hunters reminisced over old and better times, and then it was obvious that Tom was tiring. As he rose to leave, Tom raised his hand and said, “before you leave, George, I have one thing to ask of you. You know the two young setters I have?”
He knew little of the setters, only that Tom had managed to acquire them about a year or so ago. Having been a pointer man most of his life, it had been a quantum leap for Tom to get his first setter. “I understand that they are rather well bred” he answered. “What would you want me to do?”
“I want you to find them a good home, and if it is your home, then I can die in peace,” Tom said. It was with those words that both Billy and Meg had become Naugle dogs. After all, it had been too long since a setter’s tail had thumped the floor next to his chair. That was only half of the promise, however. He had promised Tom that he would hunt the setters, if they showed any promise, and while Meg proved to be a bit flighty and high strung, Billy had been a natural. The big male had needed little training, his genetic background equipping him well for the hunt.
So, here they were. They had climbed to the top of the mountain this morning. The climb had tired him, but it had just taken the edge off the setter. When they reached the grapevine tangles on the bench, Billy had taken charge. His bell tinkled merrily as he worked the cover, and every so often, he detected the scent he sought. By mid afternoon, the hunter had two grouse in his game pocket, having missed many more than he got. “That is the way of grouse hunting,” he thought to himself. “You never get many, but you appreciate them all.” Billy was tired now, and the snacks he had carried, as well as the canteen of water were gone. He had shared both with the setter. After all, they were partners, weren’t they?
Back at the cabin, he dressed the grouse, while Billy rested next to the wood stove. “This is the way it should be. A man, a dog, and some game to hunt,” he thought.
“I guess there isn’t a better way to fulfill a promise.” His thoughts drifted to Tom. “Watash,” he said. “Your setter is one fine bird dog. Billy thumped his tail, as if to agree.
This story is dedicated to the memory of a friend and fellow hunter, Thomas C. H. Webster, late of St. Thomas, Pa. Tom and I shared many a foamer, and just as many stories in his ‘office.’ We occasionally pursued feathered game together. Good friends are hard to find, and even harder to keep. Look down and smile, Watash.
Paule, if you like dogs, I have written a few dog stories. Would you like one?
trkyhntr
Well, I have done some exploring, and the stock consultant feature is pretty nice. I think I will get some use out of that alone. I do like this site a whole lot better than Lycos.
The market has been in a sideways trend for awhile, and in order to pay for all these hunting trips, I need to have a nice bull market (LOL).
No snow, rain or anything else here yet, KSquared. We sure could use a whole bunch. The lake I put my boat on is down about 14 feet from normal level, so they are talking about launching boats with a crane. I don't think I will put mine in until the lake gets back closer to normal levels. May (and boating season) is fast approaching. With this barroom pallor, I need to work on my tan.
Doris has less than 50 days of teaching school left until retirement. She is really looking forward to it. The public school system is really screwed up. There are no academic standards anymore. She teaches 5th grade, and most of her kids read on a third grade level or below. Math skills they don't have. If she fails a student, she has to jump through bureaucratic hoops and submit a plan as to how she intends to change her methods to adapt to this student. It sure wasn't like this in the good old days. Back then, my teachers didn't worry a bit about my self-esteem. I don't miss teaching at all, and I suspect, neither will Doris.
Oh well, enough of this rant. Everyone have a nice day. I am going outside to split some firewood and work off frustrations.
trkyhntr
What the heck, K2. I guess it is better to go along than to be left alone. Here we is, ain't we?
trkyhntr
Well, I bit the bullet (A-Square Sledgehammer Solid, 400 gr.) and spent the $50. Just couldn't bear having all of you over here and me all by myself on Lycos. Oh what the heck. It is only money, right.
trkyhntr