1--222222222q21 (aka Our Stay in a Haunted House)

Okay, the terrible little cat walked across the keyboard and created the name of this post.

I had a nice holiday weekend with James. We did a road trip down to Naples then ended back up in Orlando. We stayed at the Dr. Phillips House, which was absolutely gorgeous. After driving most of the day, we arrived at around 8:00 pm. We were almost too tired to enjoy the hotel room's amenities. But I did get to soak in the jetted Jacuzzi tub for a few minutes before my eyes began to droop.

The house is reputed to be haunted. We stayed in the best room, Room Number 6, located in what used to be the attic.

Here's a picture I took outside once we arrived:

As we walked up to the house, I could actually feel energy, and I don't think it was from the band playing Daft Punk's "Get Lucky" at the wedding party next door (Although the band did sound really good).

I'd heard this home was supposed to be haunted. I was actually invited to participate in an investigation that "Ghost Adventures" was doing a few years ago when they were in town interviewing potential new cast members. I lost track of the days (as I often do, and missed the opportunity by forgetting completely about it until after the day had passed).

Although I'd vaguely heard of the rumors, I hadn't done any research on the house. So I had no idea what to expect when we arrived, but I wished we had arrived earlier so we could explore the area.

The home is located just off I-4, on beautiful Lake Lucerne.

After I got home yesterday, I did some research on the house, and the man who bought it in 1907. The house was originally built by a Colonel Peckham as a wedding present for his daughter, Miriam, in 1893. It cost a little over $37,000 to build. Dr. Phillip Phillips, a citrus magnate, bought the home in 1907 and moved in with his wife, Della. I'll tell you a little more history after I tell you about our experience.

Like I said, as I approached the house, I could feel something. To me, it felt like an abundance of energy, but not negative or sad energy. It still gave me goosebumps, though...

I've felt this "energy" at other places at different times in my life, and most of the time, the energy felt negative. I remember going to a seemingly innocent looking restaurant in Seattle and having the feeling that I had to get out of there as fast as possible. I felt that same kind of energy at the nursing home my mom was in.

But this was different. I wasn't really scared, but more curious. We lugged our bags up the stairs to what used to be a dreary attic, but had been beautifully renovated into a guest room complete with a jacuzzi tub and separate marble shower.

I took a lot of pictures around the house, which seemed to be empty except for us. We didn't explore much that night, because we were pretty tired. As we were falling asleep, we were suddenly wakened by people talking, but we couldn't make out what they were saying. I heard what sounded like a little girl (maybe a baby) babbling, and maybe a lady's voice. James heard what he thought was a woman and maybe a man. But we both heard the voices, which sounded like they were right outside our door. There's only one other guest room at the top of the stairs, which creak as you walk up them. We hadn't heard any creaking stairs before or after the voices. We didn't hear any door open or close. Just the voices, which were loud, but the words just unintelligible.

I continued to hear the baby, or little girl (although the babbling grew more and more distant), and the name "Sarah" or "Mary" came into my mind. I told James that I was thinking of those names. He laughed and probably thought I was nuts, Lol. It was very strange, though. Occasionally, under the door, I would see moving shadows (but no voices), and James saw it once or twice, too.

This is the doorway, and you can make out the light under the door...

The next morning, we woke early because we had to pick up Joe from the airport. As I was packing my bag at 5:59 am, I decided to take a pic of the weirdest piece of decor in the room--a Komodo dragon.

Then, after I packed, I wandered around downstairs and took some video and more pictures. Later that day, after James left to head back to Seattle, I went back through the pics I took. Immediately after I took the Komodo Dragon pic, this picture was taken, also at 5:59 am. I don't remember taking another picture at that time, and I don't recognize anything in this picture as anything in the room or anything anywhere in the house. It's weird, because my cell phone has never taken a picture like this...

So, that's my ghost story experience at the Dr. Phillips House. I researched a little about the history of the house, and found Dr. Phillips was known as a benevolent philanthropist, and there are many buildings named after him in Orlando. He was particularly involved with charities that helped women and children, and he established a children's wing of what is now the Arnold Palmer Hospital.

I tried to find anything that would explain the Mary or Sarah names I was getting, and why I heard a baby babbling. I learned that as far as anyone could tell, no one ever died in the house. However, a skeptical journalist who followed a ghost hunting crew describes Room 6 as having a lot of energy.

In the article that appeared in The Orlando Sentinel, the manager of the B&B told of a customer from England that frequently visited and stayed in Room 6. He told the manager that his home in England was haunted, but was nothing compared to what he experienced in Room 6.

The manager also told the story of a couple who stayed in Room 4. They were in the bathroom packing and getting ready to leave, and when they came out of the bathroom, there was a baby's sock lying in the middle of the bedroom floor. The couple didn't have children, and the sock hadn't been there before they went into the bathroom.

So, maybe that explains the baby, but I don't know where Mary or Sarah came from. Probably from my overactive imagination. Lol. But maybe Miriam's husband called her Mary? I have no idea, and I guess I'll never know if that was a figment of my imagination or if Mary or Sarah's energy still lingers in the old, beautiful home.

Some things remain lost in time...

Stuff I Love

Wednesday's wise words: Having the integrity and strength to stand for what's right against the horde of all that's wrong in the world may earn you some enemies, but the reward of being content with yourself and the eternal reward of everlasting life in heaven far outweigh anything mere men and women can do to you.

I was thinking about some YouTube people I've been following for a long time. I remember when, sometime in 2007, two brothers, John and Hank Green, started sending video blogs (vlogs) back and forth to each other in order to strengthen their brotherly bond. They talked about current events, interesting things, and snippets of their daily lives. Brotherhood 2.0 became a YouTube sensation.

It wasn't long before they formed a charitable organization, The Foundation to Decrease World Suck, which spawned The Project for Awesome. The foundation has helped people and charities all over the world, including the World Wildlife Fund, UNICEF, Autism Speaks, Toys for Tots, and several cancer charities.

Now, you might recognize them from popular YouTube channels, Crash Course, SciShow, and Mental Floss.

Their motto was (and still is), DFTBA --Don't forget to be awesome. They formed a group called "Nerdfighters," which, contrary to what the name implies, don't fight nerds. Rather, they're a bunch of proudly self-proclaimed nerds like myself who strive to make a difference in the world by doing things that help people.

John started writing fiction, and eventually wrote a New York Times #1 best seller called The Fault in Our Stars, based on one of his teenage fans, Esther, who died of cancer. Her life and death, as well as her contributions as one who never forgot to be awesome, are still honored by John and Hank.

If you watch the videos from the beginning, you will see two brothers grow closer as they communicated across the country every day for a year. You'll see their struggles and triumphs, and you'll laugh and cry and celebrate as they make visible change in the world.

You'll also notice something that I find REALLY awesome. In John's videos, which he records in his "library" there's a wall behind him. It has lots of little cubby holes which display various memorabilia. At first, there were just a few curious things, like things I can't even identify, like in this  video.

But as their fanbase grew, John expanded and upgraded his wall, and filled his cubby holes with all the knick knack gifts his fans have sent him over the years.

He doesn't chuck the gifts his fans take great care in creating or picking out and sticking them in a file cabinet in his garage, which is basically just as much a slap in the face as throwing them right in the garbage.

Anyway, I think it's awesome that they honor their fans in that way. Jus' sayin'.

DFTBA.

Overslept again!

I overslept this morning again. I guess my internal clock is resetting. I'm so ready and excited for this weekend and next week!

So time just for a few haiku I've written over the past couple days.

Frozen in blue time
My mom dies in September
at odds with the sun.

Alone, not lonely
my heart keeps sweet company
with musical breeze.

I, misunderstood.
The winter sky filled with stars
are my friends tonight.

Happiness skips rope
with the bright beat of my heart...
smiling in my soul.

And a funny one I found on the Internet:

Aristotle in my Eye

I watched a super interesting YouTube on Ted Talks this weekend, one of a few I found really interesting. It was a talk by Mike Rowe, the host of Dirty Jobs. First of all, I love Mike Rowe. I'd marry him. Lol. Here's the video if you'd like to check it out. It's really interesting, and might just make you think a little deeper...

His attraction lies deeper than the obvious manliness he projects. The guy is smart. And I mean really, REALLY smart. He's a great speaker, and his ethics in making Dirty Jobs totally real--unscripted, unrehearsed, and  no "take twos"--make it an honest show that tells it exactly like it is, and that's worthy of admiration, too.

Anyway, the episode he discussed was about how wrong even the "experts" can get things. He was sent to be an apprentice to a sheep farm, and he knew beforehand he would be castrating some lambs. The method involved putting a very tight rubber band on certain parts of the lambs. Wanting to be sure this method was the accepted, humane method of performing castration on a lamb, he checked with the ASPCA, the local humane society, and even PETA. They all said "Yep, that's the humane way to do it."

So, Mike felt pretty comfortable with that...until he actually saw with his own eyes exactly how wrong the "experts"were.

The sheepherds in question were a man named Albert and his wife. Their method was very different than what the experts had told Mike. When Albert's wife plopped the first lamb on the table, Albert whipped out a wicked looking knife, that Mike said, "caught the sunlight just right," and with two quick slices, the castration was done.

Mike was appalled. For the first time ever, he put up his hands and cut the take. He said, "Hey, wait a second. This is wrong. You can't do it like this. I want it done the right way."

Albert said, "The way the humane society says to do it?"

"Yes, exactly, the way the humane society says to do it."

Albert sighed and said, "Okay." He pulled out the rubber bands, and wrapped them tightly around the lambs little parts. His wife set the lamb down, and it took two steps...and fell down. It got back up again, started to quiver, and fell down again. By the time it reached a corner, it was crying and shaking badly.

Mike glanced at the lamb that was snipped with the knife. It was hopping around like happy lambs are supposed to, "frolicking," as Mike put it.

He glanced at the lamb quivering in agony in the corner. "How long will that lamb suffer before the parts fall off?"

Albert replied, "About a week."

You could almost hear Mike's heart crack in the instant of Aristotelian peripeteia and anagnorisis. Anagnorisis, along with peripeteia, is that critical moment in time when a person makes the transition from ignorance to knowledge. Much like Forrest's many moments he describes in his memoir.

In this example, Mike realized the so-called "experts" were dead wrong. And he wondered how often he had done the "wrong" thing with the "right" intentions. Makes you think, doesn't it?

It makes one reflect on their own moments of peripeteia and anagnorisis. I think one of my most recent ones is reflected in this haiku I wrote last night:

A wish thrown upward
to be the pink daughter she
wanted, even just once.

When my mom was nearing death, she struggled to tell me she had always wanted a "pink daughter," meaning a "girly girl." And then she quietly told me that even though I wasn't a "pink daughter," I was a good daughter, and that she was proud of me. That was a moment of anagnorisis for me. There were a few times when I was forced to be "pink," but not without tears and stress. As I grew, she let me be me, even though sometimes, when I was a teenager, she would remark I wouldn't ever find a man by being "plain Jane." She had, over the years, accepted that although I may never be "pink," I was still "good."

And I understood, in my own moment of anagnorisis, that although I was "good," I could have been pink, even sometimes, just to make her proud, or happy, or something. It was a moment of discovery, a moment where I realized that giving up a part of myself, for a while and for the benefit of someone else, could be a wonderful thing in the end.

I mean, it was easy for me to be generous with my time, my money, and other superficial things. But I've always had this firm resolve in my head that to give up who I was born to be, to give up a piece of myself, was to betray my innermost soul. What I failed to realize is that I didn't have to stop being me to be pink sometimes, and if I did, the sacrifice would mean so much more. And so the poem came out.

Anyway, after the talk, I did a little research on what anagnorisis and peripeteia were. They are both Aristotelian concepts. Anagnorisis is defined as "the change from ignorance to knowledge, producing love or hate between the persons destined by the poet for good or bad fortune." And peripeteia is defined as "a reversal of circumstances, a turning point."

Anagnorisis and peripeteia is going into a situation, thinking you're doing the right thing, only to be confronted with the tragic truth of how very wrong you've been. Mike Rowe had a moment of peripeteia when he'd gone into a situation blind, with certain expectations, then was confronted with an opposite truth that opened his eyes to see things in a new light. He realized the experts were wrong, and their concept of the right way to castrate lambs was, in reality, more painful and inhumane than Albert's more "violent" way.

We all have these pivotal, "turning around" moments in life. Recognizing and acting on them is a sign of healthy self-awareness, something I had thought I lacked. Now I realize that these moments happen more than I thought, and most of the time, I do act on them. And that's a good feeling. Maybe I'm not as much as a misfit as I thought.

Mr. Rogers Did Everything Like a Boss

In a few of my recent posts, I included a couple quotes from someone I think is truly awesome in every possible way -- Mr. Fred Rogers.

I think his message is important, and I think his legacy should live on, so I'm going to try and honor him today.

Contrary to some myths out there, Mr. Rogers was never a Navy Seal, and never served in the military. But that doesn't mean he wasn't kick ass awesome.

When I was a kid, watching Mr. Roger's Neighborhood was not the cool thing to do. But, I suspect many kids like myself, often watched the show in secret. How else would it have remained on the air? How else would all the kids know exactly who X the owl was when teasing other kids with something like, "You know you love X the owl!"

I wish I could have said, "Yeah, Bully, and just how do you know who X the owl is?"

So, I'd like to come out right now and say, "Yes, I was a closet Mr. Rogers watcher, and proud of it."
To prove Mr. Roger's was one of the most awesome people who ever lived, I'll list ten awesome things about him that I dare anyone to refute.

1. Mr. Rogers was smart. He studied at Dartmouth, then attended Rollins College. He received a B.A. in music composition, and after that, went on to graduate from the Pittsburgh Theological Seminary and became an ordained minister. The idea of preaching in a church didn't appeal to him. He knew his calling was a much broader audience -- the children of the world. And he immediately realized there was potential in a new-fangled invention making waves in America -- the television.

After watching his first television show, he hated it so much he decided to explore ways to use it for his passion of teaching children. For a while he worked with NBC, doing work for music shows like Your Hit Parade, but found the network's reliance on advertising undermined his goal of teaching children. He quit NBC and started his lifelong journey with public television.

2. Mr. Rogers was creative as heck. He loved puppets, and created many of the puppets and personalities, such as King Friday XIII,  Queen Sara Saturday, and Daniel Striped Tiger, that helped The Children's Corner win the Sylvania Award for best children's show. He created basically an alternate universe of castles and trees and trolley cars that bordered on AI. He also composed almost all the music on his show. He didn't rely on writers or set designers. He did it all himself.

Look, Mr. Rogers was a giant over his world--like a giant friendly Godzilla. Maybe this is a little foreshadowing of just how much larger than life this guy would become.

3. Mr. Rogers limited "pretend" to the puppets on the show. He, himself, was no pretender. He was the same person off the show as he was on the show. To Mr. Rogers, it didn't matter who they thought he was, it mattered who he was, and he was who he was, like it or leave it.

Although he was on TV, he was no actor. I think kids could see that, and it was one of the reasons he became so popular. He said, "One of the greatest gifts you can give anybody is the gift of your honest self. I also believe that kids can spot a phony a mile away."

4. Mr. Rogers was gentle and soft-spoken, but he wasn't no wimp. When Burger King parodied him in ads during the 80's, Mr. Rogers found it odd and confusing, and not funny. He called a press conference, where he said he did not endorse the company's use of his likeness. Burger King pulled the ads without further argument. He proved you don't have to be a loudmouthed bully to get things done. He proved that heroes come in all sizes, shapes, colors, and ages.

5. Mr. Rogers never allowed the prospect of wealth influence him. The only reward he wanted was for kids to learn from his example. He never pitched any product during his career, and he chose to broadcast on public television because he knew his show would not be interrupted by advertising. He created his own brand, a brand he would never sell. His trademark sweaters were all knitted by his mother.

6. Mr. Rogers embraced the philosophy of simplicity. Every show began and ended the same way. It was predictable in a way kids found relaxing and comforting. You could count on the fish, Fennel and Frieda, always getting fed. There was always a trip to "Make-Believe Land," and Mr. Rogers even introduced the ideas of some of today's popular shows like How It's Made. Yet, despite it's simplicity, Mr. Roger's Neighborhood helped children understand deep and complex emotions and situations in a safe, comforting environment.

7. Every viewer was important to Mr. Rogers. He answered all his fan mail personally. Once, he received a letter from a blind little girl that read:

Dear Mister Rogers,

Please say when you are feeding your fish, because I worry about them. I can’t see if you are feeding them, so please say you are feeding them out loud.

From then on, Mr. Rogers always said out loud when he was feeding his fish.

8. Even animals loved Mr. Rogers! Koko, the famous gorilla who communicated with sign language, was an avid viewer of the show. When Mr. Rogers visited Koko, she immediately wrapped her arms around him, then proceeded to help him take off his shoes, just as he did on every episode of the show.

9. Mr. Rogers kept his weight at his favorite number -- 143 -- for thirty years. He swam laps every day, didn't eat anything that "had a mother," and didn't drink or smoke. He said 143 was significant because it was the number that represented "I love you."

10. Mr. Rogers appreciated everyone for just the way they were. He didn't judge, and he lived what he preached--kindness. Church leaders would often try to get him to agree on certain theological stances on particular lifestyles. But Mr. Rogers never took the bait. His answer was consistently, "God loves you just the way you are."

Man, we can all learn something from Mr. Roger's example, can't we?

Mr. Rogers, I am truly and deeply sorry for making fun of you when I was a teenager. Like many adults, I look back on my childhood thoughts and actions and realize how much I just didn't know, and how easily I was swept along with the flow of my peers. In retrospect, I see the immense value of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, and the tremendous positive effect you had on everyone you met.

Mr. Rogers, I proudly say I would be honored to be your neighbor, and wish I could have told you that when you were still here.

The Process of Learning

As many of you know, I love to research things that interest me. However, I've made an important realization literally overnight--I'm, for the most part, a "surface-skimmer," when it comes to writing about complex subjects as war or politics.

Growing up in Florida, I was fortunate enough to always live in a house with a pool. Since my father worked a stressful full-time job, the task of cleaning the pool fell to me and my two brothers. And my two brothers, unfortunately, didn't like to swim as much as I did. As a young tomboy, the goal of every summer day was to be in that pool, either with my friends or alone.

And a dirty pool was no fun, so I took on the responsibility for keeping the pool clean. Now, our pool was screened in, so there wasn't really a lot of stuff to skim off the top. Maybe a few insects, a frog or two, sometimes a snake, or some pine needles that had somehow made it through the small holes in the screen.

The majority of work lay on the bottom of the pool, and was harder to clean than simply skimming the surface.

Research is like that. To get it right, you can't just "skim the surface." You have to vacuum up everything at the bottom, too.

Yesterday, when writing my post about the 442nd, I was inspired by a Ted Talk by George Takei, and a few lesson plans for teachers online. I skimmed a few other articles about Pearl Harbor and the Japanese Internment Camps.

I thought I had a pretty good handle on the subject, and I thought my first draft of the post was pretty accurate.

But now, I realize I had only "skimmed the surface," of something much more intricately complicated than I had imagined.

I had gathered information from limited points of view. I thought I'd done good research by looking at both sides of the proverbial coin. I had considered how both a Japanese American child and an Anglo-Saxon American child would describe the events around the time of the Pearl Harbor attack and the beginning of WWII.

But I didn't fully research the general mood of the American people at the time, or the demographics of the population, or the economy, or taken into consideration that the America of 1941-42 is much different than the America we live in today.

What I failed to realize, was that subjects as complex as war, are not your typical "coins," with just two sides. In reality, those kinds of subjects are more like a die from Dungeons and Dragons.

There are many viewpoints beyond how the children felt, and many complexities that can't be accurately portrayed by just "skimming the surface." I'm not even sure I could do the subject proper justice, because it happened long before my time. To portray the events accurately, I realized I would have at least needed to interview people who lived through it, and not just a few, but many different people from all walks of life, from all races, from all demographics.

The message I was trying to convey was a simple one--that we should not judge anyone based on outward appearances, and that prejudice is a still a very real problem today. I wanted to convey that everyone is a unique mind, and the color of their skin or the country they come from shouldn't cause them to be lumped into an often inaccurate stereotype.

I thought about taking down my post from yesterday, but I'm going to leave it up, as an incentive to me to dig deeper in my research, to consider every point of view, to dig up the information sitting on the bottom, and not just "skim the surface."

History Not Taught and Why It's Important TODAY

After the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941, our country was plunged into a horrific world war that would change hundreds of thousands of lives forever.

I remember being "taught" about the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in school, and how the teachers explained in bored monotones that our country was taken surprise by an enemy threat. But I don't remember much more about the lesson.

I'm drawing on memories over forty years old, so maybe I'm not remembering the majority of what was taught. Heck, I can't even remember what color scrubs I wore last Wednesday.

So, I Googled lesson plans for teachers on the topic of Pearl Harbor.

The sad thing is that my memory hadn't failed me, but the school system did.

In school, according to the lesson plans I found online, children are taught about the American lives lost in the Pearl Harbor attack. They're taught about the U.S.S. Arizona and the lives lost on that battleship. They're taught about the President, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, who declared war on Japan the very next day. And that's good. They should be taught these things. But, I think there's more to be learned from that event in history.

In some lesson plans, children are encouraged to write an essay on what it would have been like to be an American in Pearl Harbor that fateful day.

What I couldn't find in any lesson plan is what troubles me. Especially now, with the recent election of Donald Trump. It worries me, and I can't help but think our government has purposely shoved important parts of history to the bottom of the trash can. You know, like what a kid might do after they've stolen their big brother's candy bar and gobbled it up in a dark corner behind their locked bedroom door. They dig a hole in the trash can, and bury that wrapper deep. They hope and pray Big Brother forgets he ever had that candy bar.

That's what I fear American leaders and educational institutions have done with our past, and it may lead to our downfall in the future.

I realize that the Japanese had been guilty of atrocities against the American people. I've heard the Japanese army learned how to use bayonets by practicing on American soldiers. I believe every culture has it's own dark moments to reflect on and learn from.

But there's another side to the attack on Pearl Harbor everyone needs to know.

Immediately after the attack, just after our country declared war on Japan, the American people responded with racial hysteria, and Japanese American citizens were looked on with suspicion, fear, and even outright hatred, simply because they resembled the people who bombed Pearl Harbor.

Yeah, they were families like this one:

Despite becoming societal pariahs literally overnight, thousands of young Japanese American men and women, full of patriotism for their beloved home (America), rushed to enlist in the military to defend their freedom, and ours.

You'd think our country, based on the ideals of American Democracy--that all men are created equal, and have the inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness--would welcome these young men and women, most of whom had never even been to Japan, into service.

But, nope. They were turned away. And as they were turned away, they were given a swift kick in the butt to add to the agonizing rejection. They were told they were the enemy, non-alien. These young AMERICANS, born and raised on American soil, were no longer American citizens, and not only that, but they'd suddenly also become the enemy.

The paranoia and hostility continued to grow until the pressure was too much for FDR, and on February 19, 1942, the President ordered that all people of Japanese descent--men, women, and children--on the west coast (where there were a large number of families of Japanese Americans) be rounded up and transferred to internment camps. Even Japanese Americans who fought bravely in WWI were forced from their homes.

I wonder how American children would view this time in history if they were asked to write an essay on what it would have been like to be a Japanese child in California when American soldiers forced their families from their home, packed them in train cars, and brought them to their new "home,"  a commune-like "camp," surrounded by barbed wire and guarded by soldiers in sentry towers and armed with machine guns. I've read many different perspectives on the conditions of these camps, so

I don't really know how life really was for the detainees there, but some firsthand accounts are disturbing. Some of those who were detained at these camps describe crowded conditions, bland food, and threats that they would be shot if they attempted to leave. Others report the Japanese were treated with a certain amount of dignity, fed good meals, and had daily activities to stave off the monotony.  Like almost everything in life, there are different perspectives depending on the individual describing it.

The point I want to make is that these Japanese that were taken from their homes were not the Japanese that bombed Pearl Harbor. They were not the Japanese that bayoneted American soldiers. They were just like you and me, striving to make their way in the world and to provide for their families. Although I'm sure there were probably a certain amount of Japanese sympathizers, just as there are bound to be some Muslim American citizens that conspire to and commit acts of terrorism against us, the majority of the Japanese Americans were patriotic and loyal to America. Many came to begin new lives, and appreciated the freedom America offered. The majority loved the country that had welcomed them in.

George Takei, a Japanese American who became famous for his role as Mr. Sulu on Star Trek, was four years old when he and his family were plucked from their home in California and taken to an internment camp in Arkansas. He describes the ordeal as "terrifying," and recalls how machine guns were trained on him as he ran across the grass toward the toilet at night. In his innocent child's mind, he thought it was "kind of nice" of the guards in the tower to light the way by shining the searchlight on him as he "ran to pee."

There were ten camps in remote areas of seven western states. Whatever the conditions of these camps really was, maybe the most painful part of the experience was that these patriotic citizens had to live with the knowledge that they were hated and reviled in their own country, their home, the land they would willingly die for.

In today's society, we might imagine that after being subjected to such prejudice and unfounded captivity, the Japanese interns would be bitter and jaded toward the "democracy" they were forcefully subjected to. But they weren't, because fathers like George Takei's, knew what true democracy was and knew it was worth fighting for. They wouldn't give up hope. They couldn't, because their pride in this country was deeply rooted in their hearts, and nothing could take that away.

Eventually, when the military realized they had a severe shortage of manpower, the government decided to form a regiment of soldiers from the internment camps. This Infantry Regiment, the 442nd, went on to fight for our country with such bravery and patriotic valor that they were recognized as the most decorated unit for its size and length of service in the history of American warfare.

In total, 14,000 soldiers earned 9,486 Purple Hearts, and the unit received eight Presidential Unit Citations. Twenty-one members earned Medals of Honor.

Some received their Medal of Honor a little late, but at least they were finally recognized and remembered.

What amazing hearts and souls of patriotism and bravery, that these young men went willingly into the most dangerous war zones to fight for a country that viewed them with suspicion, fear and hate.

When the 442nd returned, President Truman welcomed them on the White House lawn with genuine appreciation and deep gratitude. He said, "You fought not only the enemy...you fought prejudice and won."

What does that mean today? Is there anything to be learned from the dark corners of our American past?

Does "making America great again" mean repeating history by taking away citizenship of Americans of Muslim descent solely for resembling terrorists from other countries? Will Donald Trump's policies of hate and prejudice destroy what the 442nd accomplished? The answer to both of those questions is a resounding YES!

Replace "FDR" with "Trump" and "Japanese" with "Muslim" (or Mexicans, or Blacks, or women), and we may see a dark spot in our history repeat itself.

Yes, the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the accompanying loss of life was terrible. Yes, we should remember ALL who fought for our country during that horrible war. But we also MUST NOT FORGET that American citizens come in all races and colors and sizes and countries. Our melting pot of patriots of varying cultures are what made us "the land of the free." We are ALL simply "Americans."






We cannot let this happen. We cannot allow this ignorant, arrogant man with his promises of baseless and dehumanizing prejudice to rule our country. We CAN make a difference. Please go to change.org and sign the petition to sway the electoral college to make the right decision, the decision to allow "We, the People," to have a Commander-In-Chief that will guide our country in a forward direction, without the hostile, demeaning, and prejudiced hands of someone who would eliminate the freedom American citizens of all races and colors have fought so hard for.

5:30 pm update: I just wanted to add, that if Donald Trump does become President, I will accept it and pray he chooses his advisers wisely. I am an American, and I support our country. I have served in the military, and I'm now just another single mom striving to make the world a better place for my children and future generations.

I can't imagine how a child can look at Donald Trump as a role model to emulate. I've already heard of cases of bullying in our local schools caused by children emulating their parents behaving badly in support of their choice of Donald Trump. I don't like what I'm seeing. I don't like or support just about everything Donald Trump has ever said.

But, it is what it is. He will probably be our President for the next four years, and it's our responsibility to do our part in making the world a better place. Kindness trumps evil. Good trumps bad. We are responsible for our own actions, and nothing is gained by complaining about reality. But a great deal can be gained by making it our personal mission to make the life of someone else a little brighter every day, and to do our best to make the world a better place in the little things we do, by paying it forward when we can, and by being the example our children want to follow.

So, to make the world a better place, it may be as simple as being a better person. Mr. Rogers has once again reminded me: