New Pair Of Socks

I am just going to be honest with you, sometimes it is very difficult for me to get through the holiday season.  It’s a beautiful and spiritual time of the year and I love it for all the children, I just wish it was not so commercialized.  For a person who continually battles Bipolar Disorder, it is particularly hard for me to deal with emotions in respect to loved ones who have passed, and other situations that might trigger a manic episode.  Those of you who suffer from seasonal depression or other emotional issues I am sure can relate.  One of the ways that I try to pull myself out of a depressive or negative state is to concentrate on the precious memories of years gone by, that are extra special to me.  In my book, Porch Swings and Prayers, I detail the life of Bertie Mae Cochran, to me the greatest woman to have ever lived.  This time of year I miss her dearly, but I love to think about the impact she had on so many lives, thus this story of my grandmother, “New Pair of Socks.”

People who love me, work with me, and are in my inner most circle are constantly asking me what I want for Christmas, I always answer, just a pair of socks.  I love socks, but for more reasons than the fact that they keep your feet warm, or that you are always losing one when you wash and dry them.  When I was growing up, I had the amazing blessing of knowing what it was like to be involved in a large family.  Our Christmas gatherings were amazing to say the least.  Every year we got together in November to celebrate Bertie Mae’s (Grannny) birthday.  At the birthday dinner we would draw names for Christmas.  This included my Mom’s 4 brothers and sisters, their spouses, all their children and even some grand and great grand children.  We were a mighty bunch, growing up in the hollow out in the Roy Webb community.  Once we drew names, we knew that we would gather on Christmas to cook and eat again and exchange gifts. 

Bertie Mae was the true matriarch of the family.  She didn’t participate in the drawing of the names, because everyone always tried to buy something for her, and she was determined to buy something for every one of her children, in-laws, grandchildren, great grand children, and so on every year.  Here’s the deal, she and her late husband were cotton farmers all their life.  Her retirement consisted of $240 per month.  This is all she drew in income from the early 1970s until her death in 2003.  By the way, she gave $24 of that each month to the Church.  Still, every year, she bought comfortable white socks for all of her relatives.  She was determined not to miss anyone, and she would individually wrap each pair and place them in a large bag.  Nothing felt better on Christmas than those white socks.  We just knew as her family that we would go home on Christmas Day with a new pair of socks every year and there was so much love and meaning behind that gift.

It certainly was not necessary for Bertie Mae to go to all that trouble every year for her family, but it was something she enjoyed doing.  She had a humble and giving spirit about her that trickled down to her loved ones.  I buy my own white socks these days, but for the last seven years since her death, I wrap a single pair and put them under my own tree at my own house and open them on Christmas Day.  There are no tears, only smiles when I slide those socks on Christmas night before crawling into bed.

When the emotions flow and the mood trends downward, it’s memories like this that pull me through.  Remember that God places people in our lives to teach us how to love one another and He promises that the reunion will be wonderful when we all get to Heaven.  We serve a loving and merciful God who comforts us in ways that no one else can.  I give Him all the glory and honor for the thirty one years I had Bertie Mae in my life, and for the long lasting memories that continue to shape the man I am.

Krayons For Kids

I am truly moved by the mercy and grace of God.  He gives us each the talents we need to accomplish great things in this life.  Sometimes exceptional accomplishments originate by overcoming adversity.  I want to tell you about a special friend of mine, a special lady that is a gift from God in more ways than one.  Michelle Stone is the founder of a nonprofit organization called Krayons For Kids.  This program collects donations of crayons, coloring books, and other art related supplies for Children’s Hospital in Birmingham, AL.  I am privileged to serve as a volunteer and a board member of this organization and I am in awe of the incredible impact one woman has made with diligent work and tender loving care.

When Michelle was a young child, her parents, siblings and she were involved in a tragic automobile accident.  Michelle was the only survivor.  She spent many long months in a lonely hospital bed recovering from multiple surgeries.  Michelle faced many obstacles, not only growing up without her family, but the struggle to overcome all the health issues would be enough to break an average person’s spirit.  Michelle found the inner strength and drive to become quite the champion in life.  Michelle is just one of those people who never gave up on conquering whatever obstacle she faced.

As an adult, Michelle became a mother and successful businesswoman.  Some might say that was enough to accomplish considering what all she had endured as a child.  Michelle was not satisfied.  She always had a strong desire to give back to the community and use her experiences as a platform to raise awareness and support for children who may have endured similar situations.  As a volunteer at the Children’s Hospital in Birmingham, AL, she discovered a great need.  Children were coming from all over the southeast for treatment and care for various health issues.  She recognized the technology, care and facilities were top notch in Birmingham, but even with adequate funding, there was a shortage of supplies to encourage the spirits of the young children. 

Children’s Hospital relies solely on donations of crayons, coloring books and other art related materials to entertain young patients, or the siblings of young patients.  It is just not considered a necessary medical expense, to supply these materials from regular hospital funding, but these items can serve as such a comfort for children.  Michelle remembered as child her desire to color and create pictures to help escape the memories of losing her family.  She wants to supply other children with this same opportunity.  It can be traumatic for young children to face serious medical illnesses that require them to visit or stay at Children’s Hospital.  The staff of course is well trained and works diligently to care for these children, and through efforts of volunteers and pioneers like Michelle Stone, the experience can be a little more pleasant.  In 2010 alone, Michelle Stone has donated over a half million crayons to Children’s Hospital and she is still going strong.

I had the opportunity of meeting this energetic and inspirational lady earlier this year.  I am thankful to call her my friend and certainly one of my heroes.  If you have ever met one of those people that goodness just radiates from them and you get chills because you know they are a gift from God, then you know what I mean when I say Michelle Stone is an inspiration.  I encourage everyone to check out her website at www.supportkrayonsforkids.org.  Garth Brooks sang, “It’s not the world I am changing, but I do this so, this world will know, it will not change me.”  I actually think people like Michelle are doing more than just not being changed by their circumstances.  They are making sure others don’t have to be changed by tragedy as well.  May God continue to bless Michelle and the success of Krayons For Kids. 

The Thanksgiving Story

Thanksgiving means different things to different people.  Sometimes we get caught up in the actual meal itself and therefore the whole day revolves around overindulging our bodies in delicious, but not so healthy foods.  For others, Thanksgiving has become the gateway to the Christmas season.  That’s when the gluttony really begins.  Black Friday may be the jumping off point for the commercial side of Christmas, but after Thanksgiving most Americans spend the next several weeks overspending, overeating and overemphasizing material things.  Let’s take a little stroll back in time and take a look at the first Thanksgiving and how it has progressed.  Sometimes looking back on where we came from can help to shape the best direction on where we need to go.

What I remember being taught most in elementary school regarding Thanksgiving is the harvest celebration between the pilgrims and a few of the Native Americans who helped them once they landed in the new land on the Mayflower.  This first harvest took place around 1621.  The Pilgrims had lost several loved ones in the year or so since they had landed at Plymouth Rock.  The harvest celebration was really meant to show their “thanks” for the fall season they had just enjoyed and to show honor and thankfulness that they were alive and beginning to thrive.  It was a true bipartisan celebration between the natives and the pilgrims.

The leader of the pilgrims sent several of the men out hunting for fowl.  They termed every foul at that time a “turkey.”  The feast and celebration was not repeated the next year, however, within a few years the larger settlements, including Massachusetts, etc. were celebrating every year around the same time.  By 1777, all thirteen colonies were celebrating a day of “Thanksgiving” each year.

In 1863, President Abraham Lincoln proclaimed the fourth Thursday of each November as a national holiday, Thanksgiving Day.  Each President following Lincoln followed suit, until President Roosevelt moved it back one week to allow more of the Christmas shopping season.  A public outcry arose, and therefore it was changed back to the original fourth Thursday and Congress permanently sanctioned it as a national holiday.

The original pilgrims had fled England to escape religious persecution and made a stop in The Netherlands.  They commissioned a London Stock company to finance the sail of the Mayflower voyage that would eventually land at Plymouth Rock.  Arriving originally in December of 1620, the first winter was particularly difficult and there were many deaths.  Once again, this led to the celebration after a profitable fall harvest in 1621.  The Pilgrims who succeeded had formed a relationship with several Native American Indians, and by working together, there was a lot to celebrate.  What a great lesson we could take from this today, if we could just learn to work together and march toward a common goal.

Although we may not all have the same political views or worship at the same churches or denominations, for those of us who serve the same God, we should unite in “giving thanks” and we will then enjoy a magnificent harvest, just like the one in 1621.

I ask each of you my friends, loved ones, and associates, join me in my mission to pray more and serve the Lord at every opportunity possible.  If you haven’t had the opportunity yet, scroll down or look to the right and click on the blog entry, “A Hundred Prayer Journals.”  Let’s unify in our service and worship to the Almighty.  May God bless all of you abundantly as you plant your seeds and wait for the ultimate Harvest.

Brandi The Champion

After a twenty year career in the restaurant, retail and finance industry I have learned a lot about varying work ethics.  In some of my positions I have supervised as many as 350 people indirectly.  I used to be cynical about the “new generation” of American workers.  In my experience the younger generation has been less than impressive in their work ethic.  I often found myself becoming impatient and frustrated with people who felt entitled to more money or less demanding positions.  I blamed it on the lessons they learned at home.  You see, my parents were both cotton mill workers.  They were hard core blue collar.  Everything they earned was achieved with great physical sacrifice.  When I got my first job, both my parents told me they never wanted to hear me complain.  There was no such thing as laying out of work, or trying to come home early.  Once I entered the workforce, I was expected to embrace every task diligently.  Back then, your work record was just as important as your credit.  I have made the comment to many un-ambitious employees that they needed to return home to Mama and Daddy if they wanted coddling and empathy.  Maybe that’s a little harsh???

For the most part society in general needs a swift kick in rear.  Regardless of the socialistic direction our government is in danger of taking, we cannot depend on others to provide for us, we must create our own opportunities and seize them using the talents God has bestowed on us.  After several years of functioning as an anti-youth manager, I have had those stereotypes handed back to me, sliced and diced by one of the most promising leaders of tomorrow I have ever encountered.  This is her story….

Brandi didn’t always know the world was her oyster.  As a child of divorce and therefore changing homes about as often as birds fly south, Brandi endured a lot of self esteem issues as a little girl.  She once told me that there was a time she had no self-worth and no direction.  She felt like she was a burden to both her parents, who constantly passed her back and forth.  Brandi’s parents were not evil people, and certainly they didn’t mean to cause harm to their daughter, but alcoholism, drug abuse, and a revolving door of new mates for her parents just compounded the instability she had to face.  When people have a hard time supporting themselves, and a child, the pressure can lead to situations unbearable for everyone involved.  Brandi became a victim of just about every abuse you can imagine.  Since I have known her and she has confided in me as a mentor, I shudder to think that any young person should or could ever survive such circumstances.  Let me tell you, she did more than survive.

Not only did Brandi graduate from high school, join the military, marry and become a mother, but she also built an incredible reputation as a formidable businesswoman.  Did I mention she is only 23?  This intelligent young woman has changed my view about the younger generation and motivated me to recommit myself to developing others as a leader.  She has taught me that those of us who are nearing our 40s and have career experience to share with struggling young people, need to improve our “situational leadership” skills.  The Bible gives us the ultimate advice about not judging others, and I have certainly learned to rethink my approach in making assumptions about where people get their work ethic.  Brandi may not have had the best childhood, but deep inside her is a champion.  She is an example of self-responsibility.  She doesn’t rely on anyone else to create an opportunity for her.  She knows how to make it happen.  In my opinion, Brandi is an exceptional example to her generation.  She is proof that no matter where you come from, or what you have been through, as long as God is your steward, everything is possible.  It takes a special person to focus on where they are going rather than dwell on where they have been.  How can we get this message out to all Americans?  Don’t blame the past on your present situation. 

When we open our hearts and minds and for the Lord to do his work, we grow in every aspect of Christianity.  I like admitting I have been wrong, especially when it makes me a better person.

Old Spice Christmas

Recently a group of my friends from Church and I started an emotional wellness support group.  The goal of the group was to bring to light our individual struggles with various forms of depression.  It was extremely helpful to share stories and motivate each other.  I have personally suffered from Bipolar Disorder most of my life.  I look for every opportunity to understand the illness and conquer the symptoms.

People who suffer from mental illnesses react differently to situations than people who are able to “let stress roll off their back.”  There are significant experiences in my life that trigger manic episodes and as I look back on those experiences, I am able to see the point where I finally pulled out of the depression and I can learn from it.  I advise anyone going through similar problems to use this method to gain more perspective regarding their illness.

One significant situation from my youth is the absence of my biological father.  He chose to leave my mother and I when I was about two years old.  He would reappear every so often with a bucket full of promises for the future that never came to pass.  It really did a number on me emotionally.  There’s an old Dolly Parton song, “Here you come again, and here I go…”  This is a good illustration of how I felt.  I had a strong desire to have a relationship with him, but it just wasn’t meant to be.  My father, most likely had good intentions, and many members of his family have told me he felt guilty for not playing a role in my life. 

I remember the way my father always smelled.  He was a big fan of Old Spice cologne.  This was the mid 1970’s so I guess that wasn’t as odd then as it sounds right now.  It was a significant smell.  When I was about five years old it had been several months since I had seen or heard from my father.  Christmas was approaching and out of the blue I got a call from him.  He told me he was in California, but he was making his way back to Alabama for Christmas and he bought me the brightest and most beautiful fire truck.  I couldn’t wait.  I had missed him so much, even though my Step-Dad was really good to me, it was going to be great to see my “real Dad” as I mistakenly called him back then.  After I talked with him on the phone I begged my mother to let me buy him a Christmas present.  We went to the local TG&Y and of course I picked out Old Spice for him.

Christmas Eve arrived and I sat on the steps of our trailer with the gift wrapped Old Spice on my lap.  Where we lived on the Cove Road, you could hear cars coming a mile away and every time I heard the sound of tires on the asphalt, I would perk up thinking that just might be him in his old blue Chevy Nova.  Needless to say the day expired and he never showed.  It’s hard to understand what an anxiety attack feels like if you have never had one.  It’s one of the worst feelings a person can have, imagine it happening to a five year old.   I threw such a fit that my mother got so angry with me she took the present and through it up in the top of a closet and told me that if I didn’t stop crying, she wouldn’t let me give it to him, even if he came.

The next day was Christmas.  No word from my father.  His sister, who I affectionately called Aunt Wormy came to visit, but she had not heard from him.  She attempted to comfort me and spoiled me with gifts as always.  I found consolation in my relationship with her for his absence.  Late in the day, I was back on the door steps sitting and waiting, standing up at the sound of tires on the asphalt.  This time my mother wouldn’t allow me to sit there with the Old Spice in my lap.  She was infuriated with him and frustrated with me.  I was heartbroken, thus the onset of a major depressive episode.  They didn’t know what to call it back then.  The symptoms however were constant crying, headaches, and stomach aches.  It always resulted in a trip to the doctor, who always declared me as “fine.”  In turn, I would usually get in trouble for this behavior.  It is hard enough for adults to put their emotions into words.  I am such a strong advocate for children who suffer from Bipolar disorder, depression, or ADD/ADHD, because imagine how difficult is for them to explain how they feel. 

In the beginning of this story I promised you that I always tried to learn something from these episodes or experiences.  After days of anger, sadness and frustration, I took a stool from the kitchen, climbed up in the closet and got down the box of Old Spice.  With tears in my eyes I took it to my step-dad.  It was so important for me to give that present to him because I needed to let go of the man who had already let go of me.  He lit up when I gave him the box.  My mother opened her mouth ready to pounce on me for getting the present down, and my Dad held his hand up and stopped her.  He showed genuine enthusiasm as he opened it.  It was just what I needed.  It’s a simple lesson that when God closes one door he opens another.

Five years would go by before I saw my “real dad” again.  Things were never the same.  I was cold to him and he saw what time and distance had done to us as father and son.  I would only see him three more times in 15 years.  He passed away when I was 25.  To this day I don’t understand men who don’t have relationships with their children.  You just never know what damage you might do. 

Despite a history full of manic depressive episodes I continue to fight and I continue to write.  The only way to conquer an enemy is to build an army against it.  I am thankful God has given me the personal resolve to speak about my battle and the friends to encourage and motivate me.  There is no sad ending to this story, there is victory and accomplishment, by the grace of God, the battle is always won.

From Hiding In The Dark, Rob Goodwin

Green Station Wagon

Last week my friends Estee, LuAnne and I were at a benefit concert called “Christmas for Kids.”  Our minister’s outreach program, G&P Ministries sponsors this every year.  I was seated between these two beautiful and sweet sisters that I attend Church with and also knew from high school.  One of the acts, Steve Campbell was on stage performing some of Larry Gatlin’s great tunes from the late 70’s and 80’s.  The music really took me back to when I was a kid.  I leaned over to Estee and said this reminds me of riding in my Dad’s station wagon…the music just took me back.  She nodded and told me I should write a blog about it, so here goes…thanks for the inspiration Steve…and Estee.

My first memory of the 1972 Green Gran Torino Station Wagon was shortly after my third birthday.  I know it’s hard for people to imagine someone remembering an event when they were three years old, but this was a significant memory….I got married that day.  Okay, now that you have stopped laughing, gasping or shaking your head, read on…I really did get married that day. 

My biological father left my mother and I a year and a half earlier.  They had been married for eight years when I was born and things went downhill after I came along.  My father had been very vocal about not wanting to have children.  He was a “free spirit” and really wanted to travel and see the world.  My mother on the other hand, only wanted to have a child and she would be happy.  Basically, my parents parted ways.  I won’t get into all the drama at this point, but the divorce left my mother and I desolate and without the help of her family we might have starved.  She worked night and day in a rundown cotton mill in west Anniston called Samson’s Cortage.  The working conditions were horrible for a man, much less a woman.  Finally, she met the man who I would come to know as my Dad.  His name was Floyd Ray Goodwin, and he had a son of his own from his first marriage.  The two began dating and before long the chemistry was clear and the decision was made to become a family.

We had not heard from my biological father in quite some time, so I grew very close to Floyd Ray.  On June 20, 1975 my Mom and Floyd Ray loaded me up in his station wagon and we headed to the Cleburne County Justice of The Peace.  We had a flat tire on the way and I remember watching my soon to be stepdad changing it on the side of the road.  The station wagon had wood colored panels down each side.  I thought it was big and ugly…but in the coming years, many memories would be made in this vehicle.

 At the office of the Justice of The Peace, at the close of the marriage ceremony, the gentleman asked my parents to close their eyes and he led a prayer prior to pronouncing them Man and Wife.  I spoke up and said, “wait, let me close my eyes too!”  Everyone laughed at my comment and for years I would tell people my Mom and I got married to Floyd Ray Goodwin on that day, because I closed my eyes too.

Through the years I remember wonderful family trips in that mean green station wagon.  Back in those days little kids were not required to wear seatbelts.  I would stand in the seat between my Mom and Dad.  One of them would always keep their arm across me to make sure I didn’t go flying through the windshield.  I also remember, when my Mom wanted to sit in the middle next to my Dad, I would ride shotgun sitting on the door handle.  Back then, my tiny behind would fit on the handle and I could see the world passing by as we drove.  The station wagon also had a ‘third row seat” that folded up and faced the rear direction.  As I got older, I loved to sit back there and watch the road behind us.  Many times we pulled a pop up camper behind that station wagon.  We were poor, so there were no Disney World trips.  Our family vacations were going to the local lake, or maybe an annual trip to Six Flags.  My Mom tells people that while the rest of the family would be out fishing on a lake, I would be sitting in the very back of that station wagon with a notebook writing stories.  Some things never change. I would love to get back all the inspiration to write I had back then.

It was heart breaking for me when my Dad finally sold that old station wagon.  It didn’t even run anymore, but he had someone come and tow it out of our yard, after it had sat on blocks for months.  In 2004, my Dad was fighting an aggressive form of stomach cancer.  We took turns flying with him back and forth to Zion, Illinois for treatment at the Cancer Center of America.  In the late fall that year, he and I were there alone.  I took him out for a drive in the rental car and we crossed over into Osh Kosh, Wisconsin along Lake Michigan.  We parked and went for a walk.  We saw an old Gran Torino station wagon like the one he had during the 1970s.  We had a nice long conversation about it and I treasure that memory so much.  He lasted a few more months and died just two days into 2005.  The last thing he said to me was “Son, I need you take over.”  He never treated me like a step-son.  He treated me like his middle child.  He had my brother, Tony from his first marriage and then he and my Mom had my sister Becky together.  I belonged to him just like they did.  “Son, I need you to take over.”  I will never forget those words.  I leaned down to him and said “I know Dad, and remember, I closed my eyes too.” 

Family means everything.  I am so glad I got the chance to experience the old station wagon days.

A Hundred Prayer Journals

Over the last year I have enjoyed more than my share of victory.  Our Heavenly Father has blessed me abundantly and I have faith that more blessings are chasing me right now.  I know the Lord wants me to achieve great rewards.  I believe He wants to take the talents He gave me and expand possibilities beyond even my own imagination.  If you know anything about me at all, you know my imagination is quite vivid on it's own.  Now imagine my future in God's hands....imagine your own future in His hands.  There are endless amounts of blessings.  Everything good and true comes from Him. 

I am on a mission.  I want to share the secret behind my success and my strong faith.  I made a commitment to God about 14 months ago to improve my prayer life.  I have always considered myself to be an excellent communicator.  I mean, hand me a blank sheet of paper and I can churn out a creative short story, a fierce business memo, or even a sharp political commentary.  Hand me a microphone and I will give you thirty minutes of uninterrupted persuasive speech.  However, my communication with the Almighty was not where it needed to be.  I wonder why I have neglected utilizing my communication skills with Him?  I made a change, and for that He has rewarded me tremendously.  I keep a journal next to my bed and in my desk at work.  I make it a priority to write to Him daily.  I have a journal dedicated to prayers for good health, and a journal dedicated for financial and business success.  I realize that prayers don't have to be written down, in fact, God loves it when we just sit and talk to Him.  I write my prayers down because I like to track my own progress and keep up with my spiritual thoughts.  The point I want to get across to you is that writing it down assigns accountability.  It gives a sense of personal responsibility to yourself and to God.  Every page has a date and a time.  I make every attempt not to miss a day because it is there in black and white.  I am keeping up with my relationship and communication for many purposes.  The changes in my life are evident.  I have never been more successful, happier in my personal life, my friendships, or had more zeal for my faith.  I believe changing my prayer life has shaped me into a stronger and more proud Christian.

Recently I had a discussion with my employees about our success and my personal growth over the past year.  They noticed that I was always writing in journals in my office.  I even bought a journal for my assistant.  This morning I noticed one of my associates sitting at her desk, writing in a journal and smiling.  It's a wonderful feeling to know she is looking to our Father for blessings and I know He will reward her just as He has me.  I want all of my friends to do this.  I want all of you to enjoy the blessings He has laid up for you.  I am on a mission to get 100 friends to start a daily prayer journal.  Even if your prayer life is in great condition right now, what could it hurt to add another prayer in written form?  Imagine how you or your loved ones could enjoy going back and reading your thoughts and your pleas to God?  At the very least, it could be a wonderful keepsake for a loved one.  Please tell all your friends to read this entry on the blog and pass the link around Facebook.  I want to see just how many prayer journals we can get filled up in the next few months.  Imagine how this could increase the number of prayers going up to the Father.  I know it improved my prayer life and for anyone else who is not completely satisfied with how things are going, this could be a great way to make a positive turn.  We can't go wrong by praying more often.

Please let me know if you are on board with joining the journey to improving your prayer life.  Post a comment on the blog or on my Facebook page.  In this challenging world, let's stand out by showing our personal commitment to our Heavenly Father.  Let's celebrate the abundance of blessings the Lord showers on us simply because we ask Him.  "...in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."  Philippians 4:6.

Emotional Well-Being

Friendship is a gift from God.  In fact, love for your fellow man is arguably the best quality any person can possess.  I truly believe the relationships we form in this life are intended to teach us the true meaning of eternal love.  The Father wants us to long to be with Him and enjoy everlasting life, but He knows we are human and there is only so much faith in the unseen.  We can’t see Him, but we can see our loved ones in the flesh.  When someone we love dies, we always say that we long to be with them in Heaven.  I firmly believe we will be reunited in glory and we will know each other.  The love we share on this earth will be magnified in paradise.  Relationships are practice for eternity.  Whether it’s a romantic relationship, or simply a friendly relationship, the journey we take with another person can change our lives.  I am thankful for those who have shaped my life.  I dedicate this entry to all of my friends.

Today I had the opportunity to work with ten beautiful friends who either suffer from depression or have a loved one who does.  It’s a new program at our church called “Emotional Well-being.”  Before anyone arrived at the building this morning, I sat in the dim light and said a prayer on behalf of the congregation and the work we are doing at the Ohatchee Church of Christ.  I prayed that the Lord would bless each one of us and empower us to be open with one another.  He delivered!

We spent about two hours talking about personal struggles with the loss of loved ones, physical illnesses, childhood problems, divorce, and several other causes of depression, bipolar disorder, and other mental illnesses.  The goal was to create an environment where no judgment exists and each person can share their pain and seek encouragement and healing.  I was moved by the comments from my brothers and sisters.  We were in complete agreement that no more would we be ashamed of our plight. 

There are three commitments I believe we have to make in order to conquer emotional issues.  The first is pray about it.  Take everything to God in prayer.  I used to make excuses and say that I just hurt too much to pray.  I also felt that I was not worthy of God’s help because my faith seemed to be slipping.  What I had to realize is that God wants me to turn to him in my hour of need.  As a Christian, I finally conformed.  There is nothing in life I can accomplish or even want to accomplish that I don’t take to Him first.  I am one of those guys who tries to track everything I do, so I write it down.  I have a daily prayer journal and I write down my feelings, desires, needs, etc.  God is the first person I go to before my best friend, family, etc.

The second commitment is talk about it.  I will never make the mistake again of bottling it up inside.  It almost cost me my life several years ago.  Hiding from your problems will only make them worse.  True friends are there to listen even if they can’t do anything to help you.  Once I have told my thoughts to God, I can tell them to anyone.  I am no longer ashamed to say I can’t always control my emotions.  I refuse to allow society to dictate how I live my life.  I encourage anyone who suffers from depression or related illnesses to confide in your friends and family.  It assigns accountability to yourself for your own actions.  It can keep you alive.  In addition to talking, you will find yourself actually listening.  In the emotional well-being workshop we each were able to gain tips on handling certain situations and realize that we were not alone.

The final commitment is be about it, which means do something.  Don’t be idle.  Be about it.  Get out and make something happen.  Go to the doctor.  Get some exercise.  Read about it online and find out what you need to do.  Most people find medication to be helpful.  The most important thing to remember about taking medication for depression or related illnesses is that we are all different.  What works for someone else’s chemical imbalance may not work the same for yours.  Also, there is a need for trial and error.  Our bodies are always changing and if one medication does not work, another one will.  You have to take control just as if it was a physical illness.  You have to manage it exactly the same.  Please do not be sedentary when dealing with mental illness.  Mental illness is no respecter of persons.  It happens to men, women, and children of all races and nationalities.

Philippians 2:2 says “Agree with each other.  Love each other.  Be deep spiritual friends.”  God instructs us to reach out to one another in an effort to prepare us for eternal love and eternal life.  We need to make every effort to be great friends with one another.  Small thoughtful acts of kindness are more important than grand gestures.  Friendship is built on equality and caring for one another.  I encourage everyone to cultivate circles of friends to walk with you along this journey of life.  It’s been a good day!

Ohatchee Sundays

As grown-ups when we look back on our childhood there are experiences we remember that truly shape who we become. I am one of those people who loves to reminisce about times gone by. Today I look forward to Sundays because they were so special growing up. Mom and Dad worked hard all week in the local cotton mills so they made the most of what would often be their only off day. Sunday was a day to spend with family, enjoy great southern food, and make lasting memories.

My Mom is a great southern cook and she really enjoyed preparing a “feast” for as much family as possible. My Dad’s family, “The Goodwin’s” were from Ohatchee and our family was abundant. My dad, affectionately known to his six siblings as Ray had two brothers and four sisters. He was born as the fourth child of Floyd and Ruth Goodwin. Floyd and Ruth were perfect grandparents to me. They existed to make sure I was spoiled. The things I would get in trouble for at home were completely acceptable at Maw Maw and Paw Paw’s place.

My grandparents lived in a small white house in the Boling Springs community of Ohatchee. They were founding members of the Ohatchee Church of Christ and even though I know they had their share of ups and downs in life they remain the sweetest married couple in my memories. I can still see him sitting in the rocking chair on the front porch as we pulled up in the driveway. My grandmother would walk out on the porch, apron tied around her waist and the screen door popping behind her. It’s a vision etched in my mind that I hope never fades.

My Aunts, Irma, Barbara, Doris, Mildred and their families would come and go throughout the day. It was great to be around so many cousins and have such a great time running and playing. Occasionally my Dad’s brother Alton and his family would travel over from Georgia, this would make things even better because we loved our cousins so much and enjoyed seeing them. The front yard at my grandparents house was lined with skinny pine trees. My cousins and I would run around the trees like squirrels, zipping from one to the other. It was such a safe and innocent time. The bonds we made with one another would secure life long relationships of love and respect.

In my grandmother’s kitchen, I can remember this beautiful yellow top table. It had matching bright yellow upholstered chairs. We would sit around that table throughout the day laughing and talking about everything. Maw Maw was never satisfied with the amount we ate, she always wanted us to eat more. I can remember her saying over and over, Robby, do you want some peas? I would always say I have some, and she would reply, “but do you want some more?”

My grandparents and my Dad have gone to be with the Lord. I know they are enjoying their much deserved eternal reward. The little house is no longer there, but the love and the memories remain. I found my way back to Ohatchee in a sense. Even though many years have passed since those family cookouts, I enjoy being a member of the Church my grandparents helped to build. Several of our family members still worship there and come and go through the years, but it’s great to serve the Lord in the place where two people I dearly loved, also served. My Sundays are uplifting and filled with love in a different way now, but the values and traditions of the old days still remain. I cherish my Ohatchee Sundays…both then and now.

Box Of Cards

I will never forget the morning of October 7, 2003.  Our family had been gathered at Jacksonville Hospital for almost 24 hours.  Granny (Bertie Mae) had been admitted early on the previous day.  She was about 25 days shy of turning 95.  Throughout that day her sugar levels sky rocketed to near 700 and she suffered several heart attacks.  It was amazing to us how she kept battling back, even sitting up in bed at one point in the evening and speaking with us.  She was so strong and amazing throughout her entire life, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to any of us how she demonstrated that same strength in her final hours.  In the wee hours of the morning, she was losing the battle and suffering cardiac arrest one final time.  Everyone was hysterical.  I stood by her bed and cradled her in my arms and whispered to her quietly as she slipped away from us.

After some time had passed and we had the energy to go through her personal items, one of my aunts brought me a box with my name on it.  Inside the box was every single card I had ever given my grandmother.  She had taught me at a very young age to write your feelings down.  She always mailed cards to her friends and relatives not only when they were sick, had a birthday, or for Christmas, but just because she was thinking of them and wanted to let them know.  I picked this habit up from her and she was my favorite person to send a card to.  As I sat down and opened every one of them individually it brought back so many memories of the two of us and the private moments we shared.

Through the years I have developed a reputation with friends, colleagues, and family for mailing cards.  In fact, some of my friends nickname me “mushy” because of how often and what I write in their cards.  It’s a great habit that I picked up from Bertie Mae.  Never miss an opportunity to let the people in your life know how much you love them. 

It’s been seven years now since Granny passed away.  I know she is in such a better place and there is a mansion waiting for me right next door to her.  During her funeral I read a poem that truly personified her legacy and what I thought her message to her loved ones would be.  “I will make a wish for you, and hope it will come true;  that life will just be kind, to such a gentle mind.  If you lose your way, think back on yesterday, and remember me this way; remember me this way.”

I keep that box of cards in a cedar chest in my bedroom.  When I am missing her I find a great deal of comfort in knowing how much she treasured our relationship as well.  Love like that is such a blessing from God and reassures me that He fully intends on a glorious reunion.  What a glad day it will be!

Porch Swings and Prayer

           

Country music singer Kellie Pickler has a song on her first album entitled “My Angel.”  The song pays tribute to her deceased grandmother who raised her.  There’s a line in the song that goes something like this…”on the front porch in that old blue swing, you would sit and we would sing Amazing Grace and Jesus Loves Me…”  The album came out several years ago and I remember listening to the song with my cousins Rhonda, Sherry, and Diane.  We all just sat there in tears thinking about Bertie Mae, our grandmother. 

Autumn takes me back to the days when Bertie Mae loved to venture out to the front porch.  She loved it when the season began to change and the air was cooler.  As the school bus dropped us off each day, she would be perched there, legs crossed, swinging back and forth and whistling a familiar tune.  We always had to stop and tell her about our day.  She was our symbol of home.  She had this amazing ability to calm everything.  She was the constant spiritual influence in the lives of each member of our family.  I spent countless hours in “therapy” in that swing beside her.  In my younger days when I was struggling with a test or a school bully to my adult days of career worries and love lost, she always had inspiring words.

One of the most memorable and heart wrenching nights I remember is when my first cousin Tim was killed in motorcycle accident.  We were both 15 at the time.  Several family members were at a community meeting in Roy Webb fighting the board of education to keep the small elementary school open when we got the news of the tragic accident.  We rushed home to Bertie Mae.  My uncle had already delivered the news.  I ran toward her porch but he held up his hand to stop us.  She was sitting in the porch swing in the dark alone, he stood on the steps nearby, giving her privacy.  I asked what she was doing and she simply replied, “I am praying, Sugar.”  Looking back there are so many times I walked up and found her in that swing with her eyes closed.  We used to tease her about napping in the swing, but I realize most of the time she was deep in conversation with the Lord. 

Anytime there was an illness or a tragedy in our family I was worried about her.  This just demonstrates my inexperience with faith.  She was always okay.  She had God on her side.  She always calmed me when I was in one of my high strung panic stages by telling me “The Lord’s gonna take care of me.”  As I have matured in my faith and spirituality I understand that connection and appreciate her convictions.  She was exactly right.  She didn’t leave this earth until God was ready for her and that’s just the way it works.  There was no need to worry.

Several years ago I was walking through Lowe’s and I spotted a beautiful white porch swing.  It was perfect.  It reminded me so much of the swing she had.  I bought it and put it on my front porch.  It was cooler weather at the time and I was particularly missing her and going through a hard time emotionally.  I used to take a blanket and go out on the porch, sit on my steps, wrap up and stare at that swing.  As I prayed, I could just see her sitting there, counseling me.  I found a lot of comfort there and over time it really improved my prayer life.  I moved from that house and my best friend is now using the swing, but I go by often and sit a spell and it brings back wonderful memories and offers great comfort like the kind that only comes from above. Thank God for extraordinary people like Bertie Mae and the outstanding Christian lives they lead.

----from the book Hiding In The Dark, Rob Goodwin

America: A Christian Nation

I was in the sixth grade the first time I realized America was filled with people who wanted to remove God from anyone’s public life.  I was a student at Roy Webb Elementary, a beautiful brick country schoolhouse located in the northern corner of Calhoun County in Alabama.  The community was just about as rural as it could be.  Five buses brought approximately 200 kids from Kindergarten age to twelve years old each day to this old fashioned institution.  The halls and classrooms were filled with beautiful hardwood floors.  Our class had a traditional cloak room located in the rear where the students would gather each morning to hang coats and share secrets.

Our teacher for the first three periods was Gary Holloway, also the school’s Principal.  He was an oversized big hearted man.  His appearance may have instilled fear, but his disposition was that of a loving father figure.  He was the kind of Educator who became a teacher because he loved children and wanted to make a difference.  On this particular morning, he pulled up his usual stool in the front of the classroom and told us he was going to lead a prayer before we went to the lunchroom for breakfast.  If anyone didn’t want to pray, we could step outside the room.  I looked around the room thinking, “who in the world doesn’t want to pray?” 

Later in the morning, I caught up with Mr. Holloway for a private conversation.  I asked him why he offered for someone to leave the room if they didn’t want to pray.  He looked down at me with an authoritative look and told me not to worry, everyone in my class wanted to pray.  I pressed him as I always did when I needed more information.  Finally he shifted his weight to the other foot and confessed that there was a lot of conversation going around about how prayer was not allowed in public schools anymore and most of the schools were following the law, but he felt that God still had a place there at Roy Webb.  I was proud of Mr. Holloway.  As I have grown up and watched my fellow Americans submit to the injustice of the official removal of prayer from schools and public places, I wish we all had the resolve and faith of Mr. Gary Holloway.

This week Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, President of Iran visited New York City and the U.N.  He blamed America for the September 11 attacks, suggesting it was a conspiracy by our own government.  Ahmadinejad and other Muslim extremists such as Osama Bin Laden, etc, want to see America fall.  This country was founded on Christian principles and became the nation it is today by the grace of God.  This goes against everything Muslim extremists believe.  How do we combat an enemy who wants to see us destroyed?  We certainly don’t do it by cowering down and forgetting who holds the future for this nation.  America must stand strong against the evils on the other side of the world and here among us as well.  Christians have the right to serve God in this country in everything we do.  I am sick and tired of hearing the explanation that religion doesn’t belong in the government or other public arenas.  The Muslim religion has been given so much media attention and has been crying wolf for years about rights.  Again, this nation was founded as a Christian nation.  All of Europe may have converted to a “free thinking” socialistic society, but that is not what I want for America.  Call me a right wing evangelical conservative if you like, but I just prefer to be called a Christian.  I am a sinner trying to get to heaven.  I don’t live a perfect life, and I don’t claim to believe that anyone can, but I know that God created this entire world and His Son died for the sins of men everywhere!  I have the right to worship Him, write about Him, teach about Him, and pray to Him!  I couldn’t care less what a weak Congress or President feels about me offending a Muslim, Buddhist, Scientologist or whatever! 

Shame on Hollywood!!  Shame on you for using your celebrity status to promote everything except faith in God.  You should know that your success is only temporary and in the end you may be wondering why all your fame and fortune didn’t earn you a seat at the right hand of the Father.  I champion the leaders of this nation who are not afraid to speak out and put God first.  I am thankful for people like Sarah Palin, Mike Huckabee, Glenn Beck, and others who stand strong on their faith.  I applaud people like Ann Coulter for saying that after September 11 no Muslim should ever be allowed on another plane coming to the U.S.  When asked how she recommended they travel she replied, “take a camel!”

America is a Christian nation.  A nation full of sinners and it always will be.  We all need to stop trying to judge one another and live our own lives, make our choices and realize the only unified choice we have to make is to be a God-fearing nation. 

If we are unified in the belief that Christ is with us then we can fight with confidence, sure of victory.  With the Lord at our side,  victory is certain.  “Whatever is born of God overcomes the world.  And this is the victory that has overcome the world---our faith.”—I John 5:4

Welfare Reform Czar

Dear President Obama,

As a business professional, I have decided to apply for the position of Welfare Reform Czar.  I give you my word that I will reach out to both Democrats and Republicans to bridge the differences to insure the United States provides for those in need without discrimination or bias.  Here are my plans for improving the economy in America with a few adjustments to our current welfare program.

1.        In secular employment, a prospective candidate must pass a drug screening prior to being offered a position with most companies, and is often subject to random testing after employment.  Effective immediately all new applicants for welfare assistance will be required to pass a drug test.  All current citizens receiving welfare assistance will have a 30 day window before random drug testing will begin.  Once we begin random drug testing, a recipient will be notified by mail and must present themselves for testing within 72 hours in order to continue receiving benefits.  This practice alone should reduce the national welfare budget considerably, don’t you think?

2.       Single mothers who receive welfare benefits will have the opportunity to take advantage of a revamped “Welfare to Work” plan.  Our new agency will hire the most qualified recipients in each county to serve as job placement consultants and actually help mothers find positions while their children are in school.  Mothers who are able to find jobs to support themselves will actually enjoy free childcare.  Therefore, the money the current welfare system has been paying them in a check to stay home and lay in bed with their boyfriends will go to fund government run daycares for their children, so they can join the workforce.  The ambitious women can even go to school and learn trades which will help support their families.  The ones with bad attitudes who do not like this new way can get jobs in the chicken plants and then we won’t need the illegal aliens from Mexico anymore.  Either way, in order to receive benefits…they will be required to participate in the “Welfare to Work” plan.  Some welfare recipients may even be able to get jobs running the actual daycares in turn receiving a salary and eliminating their need for a monthly check!

3.       In order to reduce the costs of federally funded housing for the lower socioeconomic class, each “project” or HUD will be revamped.  Low cost housing will still be available for those who can’t afford to get apartments or houses on their own, but stronger rules will apply.  For example, curfews will be enforced, and there will be no sleepovers.  That’s right….the single mother with three kids can’t let number 1, 2, or 3’s baby daddy come for an overnight conjugal visit.  He will be required to obtain his own housing.  Here in America we are more than happy to provide housing as low as $80 per month, but no more “shacking up” when you are taking advantage of the low rates.  Now, if they want to get a job and baby daddy wants to get a job so they can pursue as much American freedom as they like without everyone else picking up the tab, that will be fine.  Hey you know what, we could even put some of those people to work who are on welfare as the “project manager.”  It will be their job to patrol the property and make sure at all times no one is violating the rules.  Since they will be receiving a paycheck for this job and paying taxes on it, they will no longer need a welfare check…look here, saving even more.  I bet baby Mama #2 might sign up for the job to manage the government housing where her ex is living with baby mama #3!  This is Amazing stuff.

4.       As the richest country in the world it is certainly our responsibility to take care of the disabled.  In fact, if we manage the program just right and save money on all the false claims we can actually give cost of living increases more frequently to those who are truly mentally or physically disabled.  How do we determine if someone truly deserves disability benefits?  Those candidates who suffered injuries while actually working move to the front of the line.  Once they have been diagnosed as  disabled by two separate physicians, it’s pretty clear they should be taken care of.  Unless we can find them non-physically demanding positions with the government, they should receive benefits right away.  As for those who file for disability and have never worked, we need to examine the situation a little more closely.  Of course drug tests need to be administered and a team of special “rehabilitating consultants” employed by the government should make every effort to find them a job that does not interfere with their disability.  In fact, those I mentioned earlier who might have some physical impairment might want to work part time as a “rehabilitating consultant,” in order to help others.  Those recipients who are hurt on the job and receive benefits and then later are able to work part time at jobs that do not interfere with their disability should not be penalized.  Call it racial profiling, discrimination, whatever you like, but if a person never had a consistent work record or made an effort to overcome their disability, they should be subjected to additional scrutiny.  I am qualified to serve as your Welfare Reform Czar, Mr. President.  I have had several doctors advise me that I would have no problem receiving disability benefits due to the nature of my mental illness, however, for 20 years I have been gainfully employed and I will continue along that route as long as possible, including hopefully serving my country in this most needed position.  For citizens sustaining injuries on the job, in the military, in an accident, or with a documented debilitating illness, they will be treated with the utmost respect and dignity.

5.       Food stamps must immediately be regulated Mr. President.  Did you know that my grandmother farmed all her life and when she became elderly, widowed and no longer able to farm she received $240 per month in social security, and $120 per month in food stamps?  There are many out there with the same story.  She gave $24 of the $240 to the local Church.  She stretched the rest to pay her bills and get by.  However, today there are people who didn’t work 45 years in the cotton fields, farms or mills who get as much as $500 per month in food stamps, but they trade the food stamps for cash!  I think maybe they pay their cell phone bills with the cash.  Some of them even go shopping at designer clothing stores, take cruises, and go to the casinos with the cash they get by trading their food stamps.  Yep, President Obama, I once had a young able bodied female in her mid twenties offer me $500 in food stamps for $300 in cash.  Here is my suggestion, let’s help the economy and those in need at the same time.  If Suzy Q is approved for $300 in food stamps, we will send a voucher each month to the nearest grocery store to her house.  They will provide her with the food on a daily, weekly or monthly basis however she chooses.  This provides business for the local store and it also takes care of Suzy Q, and imagine this, she doesn’t have to even worry about being tempted to sell her food stamps.  Now some may say, we are taking away her liberty…her independence, her right to choose where she shops.  There’s a way she can get all that back…..she can get a job, or she can just simply say “thank you.”

Mr. President, I am just full of ideas of how we can prevent the demise of social security and welfare by regulating the system now and encouraging many of its recipients to go back to work.  Also, imagine the votes you could get if you truly made an effort to reform the system paid for by the hard working people of America.  Mr. President, this is the most prosperous nation in the world.  It will only continue to be prosperous if we grow the middle class and stop trying to become so European.  Benevolence is an attribute that God endorses and also expects.  Surely with a little reform and control we can successfully take care of our own and teach the future leaders of America how to practice self responsibility. 

I look forward to an interview as I know you are in agreement this country needs a strong business man or woman to reform a failing system

Best Regards,

Robert Gowens-Goodwin

All Is Well

All Is Well


Victory over Bipolar Disorder, prologue from my book Hiding In The Dark



It took me several years to develop the courage to discuss my condition openly. I come from a long line of judgmental people. Being raised in a staunchly conservative and legalistic church environment didn’t help either. There was just no room for anyone who might be a little “different.” Even though I believe most of my family to have severe bipolar tendencies, not many of them will admit it or seek help today, and I strongly believe from my research and experiences, mental disorders are hereditary. Some of my closest friends and relatives have said to me, “why talk about it…why write about it…things like this should be kept private.” I respect that opinion. However, having been at the edge of suicide on several occasions, and at the point of almost no return, I believe talking about it, writing about it, and sharing can save other lives…as well as my own.

I had my first mental breakdown in 2003, it lasted for approximately 6 months. It was prompted by the death of my grandmother Bertie Mae and an influx of tumultuous memories and personal struggles from my youth. I began to withdraw from the world. I would go to work every day, then come home in the afternoon and cover the windows, doors, etc., with anything I could find to block the light. I just wanted to be in total darkness. I thought if no one can see me…I will be okay. I cried continually. I didn’t sleep. My weight fluctuated 10 to 15 pounds every week! I would have manic episodes on a daily basis….all hidden from everyone. At work, I developed a reputation for being a Jekyl and Hyde. I was loving and understanding one moment and bitter and infuriated the next. This was the first “major” breakdown of my life, but as I reflected and would later come to terms with, I had displayed these tendencies from a very early age. My erratic mood swings were undiagnosed for more than 20 years.

Fortunately, God had bigger plans for me. Even though I was turning my back on Him, He would not let me go. Sometimes I think Bertie Mae was campaigning with God on my behalf. She was up there in Heaven pleading with God to intervene. He did just that…in the form of an older married couple who had become my “God Parents.” C.E. and Jean Chappell became my life line. They recognized what was going on with me. Jean had experienced much of the same symptoms as I, therefore, they knew it was bad. They refused to listen to my excuses. They refused to let me hide from them. I finally broke and I confided in them. I even told them of my well laid plans to end it all. They took me to a doctor immediately. A very long process of ups and downs, progress and relapse, healing and regression, success and failure began to occur. It’s a battle that will likely never end in this life.

I told my story publicly for the first time in 2007, standing in the pulpit at the Ohatchee Church of Christ. The minister, Wayne Dunaway, who is a very good friend and advocate, gave me the opportunity to preach a sermon entitled, “Christians Overcoming Depression.” The sermon/testimony was well received and so many of my brothers and sisters in Christ came up to me and told me they had gone through similar bouts with depression. Millions of Americans do every year, but for so long we have treated these illnesses as taboo and made people afraid to get help. I was one of those people. I am so thankful the Chappell’s intervened when they did and rescued me. C.E. and Jean put me on the path to recovery.

Today, I am healthy and I try to be proactive in my fight against this illness. I support each person in their own plight to conquer mental disorders, whether it be through faith alone or with the assistance of medical treatment. My main goal is to be as productive as I can and set an example that there should be no stigma attached to people who battle mental illness. A mental illness is a medical problem. For some, it’s temporary, for others it can be more long term and can impact the lives of everyone around. The most important lesson I have learned is regardless of how you’re judged by friends and relatives, surround yourself with people who will love and support you unconditionally. Put God at the top of your list and pray daily for healing and strength. Many people who suffer from Bipolar disorder are some of the most creative and successful people in the world. I am determined to control what happens in my future. Defeat is no longer an option.

If one life is saved or one circumstance is made better because we have an open conversation about mental illness, then it’s worth any ridicule or criticism we might endure. In the words of my dear friend C.E. Chappell who has now gone to be with the Lord, “all is well.”

The Ant and The Grasshopper (Modern Version)

The ant works hard in the withering heat and the rain all summer long, building his house
and laying up supplies for the winter.  The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.

Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while he is cold and starving.  CBS, NBC , PBS, CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the shivering grasshopper next to a video of the ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food.  America is stunned by the sharp contrast.
How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?  Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper and everybody cries when they sing, 'It's Not Easy Being Green...'

ACORN stages a demonstration in front of the ant's house where the news stations film the group singing, “We shall overcome.” Then Rev. Jeremiah Wright has the group kneel down to pray for thegrasshopper's sake.  President Obama condems the ant and blames President Bush, President Reagan, Christopher Columbus, and the Pope for the grasshopper's plight.  Nancy Pelosi & Harry Reid exclaim in an interview with Larry King that the ant has gotten rich off the back of the grasshopper, and both call for an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share.  Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity & Anti-Grasshopper Act retroactive to the beginning of the summer.

The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green bugs and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the Government GreenCzar and given to the grasshopper.  The story ends as we see the grasshopper and his free-loading friends finishing up the last bits of the ant’s food while the government house he is in, which, as you recall, just happens to be the ant's old house, crumbles around them because the grasshopper doesn't maintain it.  The ant has disappeared in the snow, never to be seen again.  The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related incident, and the house, now abandoned, is taken  over by a gang of spiders who terrorize the ramshackle, once prosperous and peaceful, neighborhood.  The entire Nation collapses bringing the rest of the free world with it.
MORAL OF THE STORY:  Be careful how you vote in 2010.