Getting to Venice Was Like Having a Root Canal

 I left off with four of our group heading to the gate for Brussels. As we looked out the window of the airport we saw dark clouds and rain. Oh No! This can't happen again! We did not want to be diverted to Rochester, NY airport and miss another flight. We kept checking the weather radar on your phones, trying to keep positive.  There was a delay, but no cancelation. Still, there was concern that we would not be able to reach our connecting gate to Venice. 

Is the rain going to delay us again?

I will make this short. Ann and I did not sleep at all on the flight to Brussels. We knew we would not be time for us to make the connection. We talked with the head flight attendant who told us he would do his best to convince passengers who did not have connecting flights to remain seated and let those of us who did, leave first. ( I forgot to say that when we had to reschedule we ended up getting seats in the back part of the plane, not near the front as ours had been on the first flight.) The flight attendant also told us to request wheel chairs as they would be able to get us through the airport, through customs and to our gate in the speediest way. Ann and I decided to get wheelchairs and Michael and Ray would run along beside us. And yes, I did feel guilty, but this was a decision made under sleep deprivation.

We landed in Brussels and people were so kind to those of us with tight connections. Some of them even cheered for us as we walked down the aisles. I tried to thank each one of them as we walked by.

The motorized wheelchairs zipped along winding around people and through customs without having to stand in line.  Next we were transferred to a larger people mover. Michael had disappeared ahead of us, and Ray was still trotting along side of us. It was then we heard a panicked voice. "Help us, please, we can't make it!" Behind us was a younger woman and her mother. (It reminded me of when Ray and I had to run from gate to gate at O'Hare Airport. That was another tight connection where Ray had to run ahead hoping to have them hold the plane for me. I was lugging a carry on and had this stupid purse that kept sliding down my arm and getting caught in the wheels. I was also wearing a mask and that made my asthma kick in. But, I made it.) We asked our driver if he could stop and pick up these women. There was only room for the mother, but the daughter was fine with that. She and Ray ran along with us and we made it to the gate where we saw Michael waiting for us. 

Here is a picture of our plane. Isn't it beautiful! We were going to be on our way to Venice! Yes!!

Look at our plane! And the sky is blue, so no weather delay!

We were so excited. We couldn't wait to meet Stephanie and Bruce who had lucked out to get a direct flight to Venice from Newark. We planned to meet them at the Venice airport and finally begin our journey. Our excitement was peaked when we felt the wheels touch land. We were in Venice! We shuffled out of the plane and headed to baggage claim.

We watched bag after bag slide down the luggage ramp to the carrousel. Ours were not among the others. We watched happy people grab their luggage off the carrousel and head on to their own adventures. We waited with great anticipation for another batch to come down, but alas, we were directed to a waiting area with many helpful people. The sad new; our luggage was not on this plane. The good news;, fill out the forms and the baggage would be delivered to us.  It was hard to be upset because everyone was nice, unlike the people in Newark, and there was a waiting area so we did not have to stand in line. We were given a number and  went to the window when it was our turn. Plus, we were in Venice! So let's be happy and take a water taxi to our hotel.

To be continued.....

Stranded: Part Two

 My last post left the six of us (traveling to Italy) sleeping all night at the Newark airport because of a delay caused by a terrible storm. I should qualify that in saying that some of us attempted to sleep while some just stayed awake. I spent my time reading, playing card games on my iPad and checking out the airport map to find if there was a place to shower.

I did find that United has two lounges. One was the United Polaris Lounge that was restricted to first and business class passengers. The other was the United Lounge that charged $59 per person. Entry includes drink, WiFi, TV, and comfy seating in a modern space. But what caught my eye was that it had showers and a buffet breakfast. It opened at 5:00 A.M. and had a limit of how many people were permitted for the day. I was determined to be one of those people. It had been a  long day of traveling, getting delayed, getting diverted to Rochester airport and then hours later traveling back to Newark. We slept on cots in the airport and our next flight was not until 6:00 that evening. Our spirits were dwindling because we knew we would be missing a day in Venice. >This lounge was the best find and I did not want to be blocked out. Most of the group was slumbering on their cots, but I talked Ray into going with me to find this lounge and see if there was anything else we needed other than money to get in.  It was a long walk, but everything seemed to be a long walk in the airport. We found the lounge next to the Polaris Lounge but it was closed. We had about an hour before it opened so we went back to our group, who had been awakened by ungodly loud music from the restaurant where we had made our home for the night.

 Everyone felt that $59 was worth having a shower, hot meal and a place to hang out for the day. We gathered our few belongings and walked back to the lounge which had been open only a few minutes. Here is a picture of us sitting at a table having breakfast. A nice man took our picture. We found out he was a make up artist in Los Angeles and had just had carpel tunnel surgery. He assured us his hands were able to take a picture and also told Ray that the surgery was well worth it and to have it done when Ray returned home. Not sure where Ray is on that now, but he and this guy talked quite a bit about it.

Ray and Jackie in foreground, Ann and Michael next and Bruce and Stephanie in back

After a great breakfast I decided to take a shower. I was thankful that I had packed extra underwear in my backpack. I kept my expectations of the shower low as I did not want to be disappointed by a grungy, moldy place. I walked into the shower room and found a waiting area, kind of like going to a spa. A kind young woman greeted me and guided me to a huge bathroom with a walk in shower. She gave me towels and a wash cloth and told me that the soap and shampoo and lotions were in the shower. It was such a relief to see this pristine shower that I did not want to leave. Here are some pictures of the shower and bathroom. 

Inside the shower

There were other showers. I am not sure how many, maybe six or eight. After one was in use, the young woman would thoroughly clean it, to get it ready for the next person.

The best part of finding the United Lounge was later in the day. I was just finished charging my phone at a table and stood up to join the others in more comfortable seats. I looked up and here comes a woman who looked familiar. Before I could stop my mouth I said to her, "You look like Joan Baez." She pulled down her mask, looked at me, smiled and said, "I am." She then put her finger to her mouth in a shhh gesture, and I knew she did not want me to make this public. I smiled and nodded, but inside I wanted to follow her to her seat and tell her how much I admired her, her music, her bravery standing up for peace and civil rights, and how she made me cry when I listened to her sing to the children in war torn Ukraine just last year.  But I could not. I respected her need to have her time. Darn, it was so hard.  She sat right across from us and worked on paperwork and checked her phone. My heart was full and realized that if we had not been stranded in Newark airport all night and all day, I would have never spoken to Joan Baez.  Here are a couple pictures of Joan Baez. 

Later in the afternoon we gathered our few belongings and headed for the gate to catch our plane. Stephanie and Bruce were scheduled on a different flight that went directly to Venice. Ann, Michael, Ray and I were scheduled on a flight through Brussels. Here is a picture of the four of us, looking all refreshed from spending all day at the United Lounge.

To be continued....

Stranded!!

Molly is taking ownership of my carryon. 

 It began with an email I sent to our friends, Ann, Michael, Stephanie and Bruce, a few days before we began our trip to Italy and then a Mediterranean cruise. The email said: "Since we have a long layover in Newark, why don't we find a place to order drinks and toast to a great adventure."  We did have a long layover in Newark as we did not want to be running to our next gate to catch a plane. Everyone thought that was an excellent way to spend a few hours waiting for our next flight.

Now, the truth. Our flight from Detroit was on time. We departed around 1:00 P. M.  Ray and I packed light and let the airlines (United) talk us into putting our carryon in with the checked in bags since the plane was so full. We arrived at Newark on time but at this time the plane began jerking and bouncing. It seemed like we flew forever, bobbing up and down, round and round the airport. After about twenty minutes the pilot informed us that our flight had been diverted to Rochester, NY to refuel because we were not able to land due to a storm. ROCHESTER!! Like that is halfway back to Detroit, or so it seemed. Here is the flight pattern of our plane in Newark.

When we got to Rochester, we were able to go inside the airport and wait for updates. We were also told we could stand in line to see if we could get on other flights if we were going to miss our connecting flight. We took turns standing in line while others were on their phones seeing if they could get any better information. The woman helping in the line was also responsible for checking for updates from the pilot. This meant that she had to leave her desk, walk into the plane, return and tell everyone that we would have another update in an hour. Then she would return in the ever growing line. She was working on the first couple, a woman and her adult daughter, for two hours. This did not look promising. 

I lost track of the hours we waited in line. We kept being told at each update that we would get another update in an hour. All of the airports in the New York City area had been closed because of this storm, and so everyone was trying to book new flights. Soon we decided to book a hotel since  it looked like we were going to miss our connecting flight....unless that flight was going to be late, too. Hope is great, but in this case it delayed us in getting a hotel. All of the hotels were filled around Newark because of this storm. Still, we could hope, because, well, what else could we do. 

Around 9:00 P.M. we were next in line and the adrenalin kept our tired bodies alert. The woman helping us had to be frustrated because there were few options people could take and people were getting upset. We were just happy to be next in line. She got to us and found that we could still make it to Venice, Italy but we would be a day late. We would also be diverted through Brussels. We took it. She had four of our reservations set and then she got a message that the plane was loaded and we had to leave,  NOW! She guaranteed us that she had the information for Stephanie and Bruce and would finish it and we could get those boarding passes in Newark. With that, she stopped everything and shuttled us all to the plane. 

Faith, well, that is a good thing too, sometimes. Did we have faith that Stephanie and Bruce would get their flights changed to the same as ours, or even changed at all? We had no choice. We would finish it when we got to Newark. 

We arrived at Newark around midnight. Some of us went to baggage claim to see if our bags happened to be there, and if not, to see how to get them. Of course, there were no bags. Here is where we stood in another long line to find out where our baggage was. I have a picture of the line that was taken at 1:50 A.M. 

It was a long line and a slow line. When it was our turn, I made the mistake of walking up to an open window before the woman announced she was ready. I had not noticed any of the other people doing that, because I would have waited if I had known that was the process. So, I got chastised for being rude. This woman almost had me in tears until the woman next to her called us to her window. 

I was relieved to find a kind soul, but she really could not help us. She told us that our luggage would follow us and we had nothing to worry about. We stated that we would just like to get  our luggage now and then go through security later the next day since our flight did not leave until 6:00P.M. But no, that was not the process. The luggage would follow us. We had nothing to worry about.

We left, heads down in defeat and eyes tired from no sleep. We met the rest of the group, found some cots that the airport was offering, and hoped to get some sleep. 

Michael waving hello before he tries to get some sleep.

Stephanie and Bruce napping

Ann got up from her cot for a few minutes and when she returned she found this.

We have no idea who this is. He just found Ann's cot and fell asleep.

To be continued.....

Don't Get Cocky

 How do I start this? I guess, just come right out and say it. "I got Covid, and I am sure I was the one to bring it home to infect Ray."  Oh how I hate to write those words. Ray and I had been so careful, so diligent and conscientious in following all of the advice given to keep Covid out of our home. We are current on our vaccinations, and we usually wear masks when in stores, etc. Ah, that is the downfall, we became lax and complacent and the Covid virus nabbed me and  then attacked Ray.

It all began on a Thursday. We had planned to go to Jazz in the Garden to enjoy time with friends while listening to some good music and being outside. Thursday afternoon I began sneezing and feeling a bit achy. Darn, I better not go to the concert even though I had already prepared some snacks to take. 

I went to bed early knowing that a good night's sleep usually chases away colds for me. Instead, the symptoms became worse. If you have had  Covid, you know what I mean, and if you haven't, well, you have heard all about it; feverish, achy, coughing and sneezing.  I decided to test for Covid on Friday morning.  Of course, this was a new type of test and I had to read the directions carefully. They all require sticking that swab up your nose which resulted in more sneezing. Now, the wait. Fifteen minutes and I would be able to know that I had just a summer cold. I had just started the timer when I noticed another line forming on the test plate. What! That fast! Oh, no. I have Covid.

I told Ray, he tested and his came up negative. I called the doctor, got a tele-appointment for the afternoon and then just chilled. Well, I slept. I felt exhausted after the morning test. Since I am high risk, because I am 72 and I do have asthma, the doctor prescribed, Paxlovid.  Ray could pick it up at the pharmacy in an hour. An hour came and went and the pharmacy did not call. So, I called them. They did not have the prescription. I called the doctor and was told that it had been sent. Oh, I forgot to say that my doctor was out of town so I was dealing with someone else, but felt like things were okay.

We waited until about half hour before the pharmacy closed, and called again. No prescription was called in.  Grrrrr  I would wait until the morning and tackle this then. I knew that I needed to start taking the Paxlovid within a few days of getting Covid for it to work, so I wanted to get it soon.

Saturday: Called the pharmacy. No prescription. Called the Doctor (of course, I am not talking directly to the doctor, but to someone answering the phones. The woman checked. She said the prescription had been sent in. Called the pharmacy. No prescription, and they checked all of the other stores to see if it had been sent to the wrong one. Called the doctor. Asked person on phone to call the doctor and resend it. Waited on line while she did that (or said she did). Called the pharmacy.

Now here is when I feel a bit ashamed of my behavior. Granted, I was feeling lousy so my coping skills were low. A nice young man answered the pharmacy line and I nicely asked about my prescription. He checked. No prescription. And then I heard myself say (I couldn't stop my words even though my mind was telling me not to) "I am  at high risk. I am 72 years old. I have asthma. I might die!" When I said that I might die, the young man half gasped and I could tell he had no clue what to say to this 'elderly woman' who was scared she was going to die. I did say quickly, that I knew that was an exaggeration, but that it was serious and I was frustrated.

At that time, (it was still morning) I gave up. I quarantined upstairs, and figured I would tackle the prescription mess on Monday. I crawled in bed and just slept a feverish sleep. 

Around 6:30 I open my eyes, and Ray's masked face is looking down at me as he hands me the box of Paxlovid! My Hero! I told him he was my hero through my tears of relief. He said, "No, I am your husband."  He had spent the whole day tracking down the doctor, going through the same frustrations I did, but finally, he succeeded! The pharmacist decided to call the doctor and that was what worked. 

Ray rushed to Kroger pharmacy to pick it up and they told him my insurance did not cover it!!! He had them call Walgreens and they would take my insurance, so Kroger transferred it there. 

So you know why I call Ray my hero! I had just given up for that time, but he knew  the importance of getting the medication as soon as possible. Thank you, Ray. You are my hero, and yes, you are my husband, too.

I feel kind of bad because now Ray has Covid, and I feel I was the one who brought it into the house. I have learned my lesson though. Don't get too complacent, especially when Covid is spiking. Just because we had escaped this virus, we were not immune from it. As,  Hans Solo said, "Don't get cocky,".  And I do think I had become a bit cocky. Darn, not the way I wanted to learn that lesson.

Maxine's Story, Chapter 6

 

Maxine As a Young Woman

It has been a long time (again) since I have written the next chapter of Maxine's Story, and my guilt has overtaken my neglectfulness.  We left Maxine visiting her brother, Harold, in the ......hospital for amputees. He had been injured in battle and was recuperating and getting physical therapy.  While there she and my Nana would visit the other wounded soldiers.  One day one of them, the one known as The Senator, asked Maxine if she would go to a movie with him.  He knew she was engaged, but still wanted to go on this movie date.  

Maxine has never been good at saying "No" to anyone, and so she went.  The thought of Wilber back home would come to mind, but she would push the thought away. It was just a thought, it was not tugging at her heart.  Well, one date led to another and Maxine knew that she was falling in love with this handsome, kind, funny and smart man. When it was time for Nana and my mother to return to Iowa, there were tears and thoughts of leaving part of her heart in Utah.

The Senator is also known as Mort Haworth. He had grown up in Indiana and joined the Army after his mother had died. He had been the caregiver for his mother, and when she died, he was crushed. Joining the Army had to have been a difficult decision because there were Quaker values in his family. His father's side of the family were Quakers (even though not always active) and did not believe in serving in the armed forces. He could have been a conscientious objector due to religion. Despite objections from his father and others in his family, and knowing how angry some would be, he stuck to his decision. 

I can write more about Mort later. But this is Maxine's Story and even though Mort will be a big part of the rest of her story, I will save his biography for another time. Maybe I could call it Mort's Story.

Maxine and Nana returned to Iowa and life began to take on the same routine as before they left. But there was a difference. Maxine was restless. She could not relax and get back to normal. She would go to work at the bank and she would go on dates with Wilber, but it was not the same.  Soon she began getting cards and letters from Mort. He asked if he could come visit. Nana really liked Mort and encouraged him to come visit.

It was time for Maxine to tell Wilber that she had to break the engagement. I know that had to have been so hard for her because she always hated confrontations, but her heart was not with him. Wilber was devastated and refused to believe that she was serious. He would come into the bank to her window and put the ring in his deposits. Maxine began to waver and wonder if maybe he was the right one since he was so determined.  She was also writing to Mort and in one of the letters told him that she was so conflicted in what to do. 

Mort loved Maxine, and unlike Wilber, he wanted the best for her even if it would hurt himself. So he told Maxine that when he came to visit, he would like to meet Wilber. He said that after meeting him, if he realized that Wilber was the right guy for her, then he would bow out and let her be. But first, he wanted to meet Wilber.

Mort was called the Senator for a reason. He was smart, fair, unselfish (I know this doesn't sound like a lot of senators today) and a leader. Before his visit, he whittled this little puzzle game. I have seen similar ones sold at farmer's markets sometimes. When he got to the house, he was welcomed with joy and excitement. Uncle Harold was there, Aunt Marge, Nana, Papa, Uncle Frank and his wife Aunt Dorothy, and of course Maxine. Wilber arrived soon and they all sat down to one of Nana's feasts. I still wonder what that meal was like. Did anyone really enjoy it?

After dinner, Mort took Wilber out on the porch and they just talked. No one knows what they talked about. Mort kept playing with his whittled toy and it peaked Wilber's interest. Mort explained the puzzle to him and let Wilber try. After some time, Mort went back inside and found Maxine in the kitchen. "Maxine, I have made my decision. You could never be truly happy with Wilber. He is still out there trying to figure out that puzzle. You are much too smart for him and he would never appreciate your quick wit. But you need to make the decision on what you want, and in fairness to Wilber and me, it needs to be final. I am going on a trip to Florida with my cousin, Jack. That should give you some time to think. I know I love you and if you choose Wilber, even though it will hurt, I will respect your choice."

This is similar to the puzzle Mort whittled. It has two parts. It is a block of wood about four to five inches long. There is a hole drilled in the center through the whole block. It is large enough for a small dowel pin to slip in and out.  The small dowel pin (about three inches long has a notch cut near the bottom. The top of the pin is glued into another piece of wood that is like a cap to the maim block. The top part of the cap has been whittled into a dome shape leaving the bottom half square to sit on top of the block of wood. This picture shows the bottom of the small block. As you can see, the hole has a small square peg inserted in it.  What this not show are two ends of a rubber band sticking out about half an inch. That is how Mort made it. On the cap he numbered each side, 1-2-3-4 and on the top of the block he also had numbers, 1-2-3-4.  The object of the puzzle is to find the right combination for the hidden rubber band to connect to the notch on the small dowel pin, and then when pulled out, will snap back into the block.

 

So, Mort traveled to Florida. I don't know how long. He returned to Indianapolis where he was living with cousins, Al and Dorothy Hall and their two children Tim and Susie. They knew he was pining away for Maxine and hoped the trip to Florida would settle things a bit. 

Maxine was in distress. Wilber would not leave her alone. His mother would not leave her alone. Finally, Nana said. "Is this how you want to live the rest of your life? Do you want to live with someone who will not respect you and give you time to make a decision? Think about who makes you feel like your feelings and your thoughts are important." It was not difficult for Maxine to realize that Mort was the man who made her feel loved for being just who she was. At that time she was able to tell Wilber good-bye with enough strength for him to understand that he had lost.

Mort courting Maxine

And so now the romance begins with Maxine, my mom, and Mort, my dad.  He sent letters, cards and gifts everyday. She never received less than four pieces of mail from him each day, and one time she received 14!  He would drive the seven hours each weekend to visit her and well, the rest is history.  Oh, but no, there has to be more, and there is. I promise to write the next chapter sooner than this one.

Maxine's Story: Chapter Five

 Why oh why have I waited over a year to start the next chapter of Maxine's Story!  I can't blame it on the pandemic, because that gave me lots of time at home to write.  I really have no reason. So, I begin this chapter now.  In the last chapter, Maxine's brother, Harold, had been seriously injured in WWII.  The family got word that he was in a hospital in Bushnell Military Hospital in Brigham City, Utah that specialized in treating amputees.

How relieved the family was. He was safe, he was alive! It would be some time before anyone could travel from Iowa to Utah at that time with so many rations and lodging difficult to find there.  My grandmother made sure he had plenty of boxes with treats and letters delivered to him weekly.

My Uncle Harold was the kindest and gentlest of all the Carlson children. I am sure being in battle was difficult for him, but like so many other WWII Veterans, he did not talk about it much. While he was at Bushnell Hospital many of the other patients were envious at all the goodies, cards and letters he would receive from home. He shared whatever he got, but found that he, too, was envious. Some soldiers received nothing in the mail. Uncle Harold noticed that those soldiers would get lots of attention from the nurses and the Red Cross Volunteers. And most of them were young pretty women who would sit and chat and laugh with the patients.  Oh, Harold got his share of attention, but he just wanted more. So, he would give a lot of his treats away and whenever a Red Cross Volunteer would ask him how he was doing, he would put on his sad face and say that he never heard from home. He said he knew his family must be embarrassed about the loss of his leg.  Hearing that, the young women started giving him lots more attention and Uncle Harold was in heaven.

Back home in Iowa, my grandmother received a call from the head of the Red Cross in their area. "Mrs. Carlson, you do know how important it is for our wounded soldiers to have support from their families. Is there a reason you have not communicated with your son? He appears depressed and says he thinks his family is embarrassed."  My grandmother was stunned. She explained that the family has been sending letters, cards and treats since they knew he was in the hospital. Something was not making sense. She told the woman to call the Post Master and ask how much was being sent out. Well, the Red Cross did just that and the Post Master assured the woman that Sara Carlson was sending boxes at least once a week and in-between lots of letters and cards. Then he called my grandmother and said he did not know what was going on. He knew the family and knew how concerned they were.

My grandmother was determined to find out for herself. She decided that she and my mother would take the train to Brigham City, Utah and find out what was making her son so depressed. "I don't care if we have to sleep on the sidewalk when we get there. No son of mine is going to feel unloved!"

A De Moines newspaper even printed a short bit about my Nana and Mother making the trip to Utah. This was printed on April 15, 1945. I forgot to mention that they stopped in Denver on the way home to visit my grandmother's sister, Aunt Rett.

So that is how my mother ended up in Utah. She took time off from her bank job and joined my grandmother on their journey out west.  When they got there, they finally found a place to stay in Ogdon.  

My grandmother was a determined and confident woman. She went straight to the hospital and made it right into Harold's ward. I am not sure what the discussion was when he saw her and my mother walking toward him. I am sure he was elated, until my grandmother asked what had happened to the letters and treats that were sent to him. He had to admit that he lied to the Red Cross so that he could get extra attention from some of the pretty workers. I am sure that finally being with her wounded son, my grandmother overlooked this lie and was just grateful that she could hold him in her arms.  The small mystery was solved and that was what mattered.

She and my mother stayed in Utah for a few weeks.  I am not sure how long, but long enough for my mother to have made a lot of friends on Harold's ward.  She would visit often and play cards and games.  After she left one day, another patient, one they called 'The Senator' asked my uncle this. "Does that ring on Maxine's finger mean anything?"  And Uncle Harold smiled, "Nah, she doesn't love that man."  Now, Harold could not know if Maxine loved Wilber, but Harold just might have been wiser than given credit.  The Senator was smiling as he headed to his next therapy session.

 

A Message from a Snowflake

 In 2016, when we expressed sadness that Hillary lost

 You called us snowflakes

Our protests were through words and pussy cat hats

Millions peacefully marching in protest

No need to carry guns, we still felt safe.

But you pompously devalued us

Even though Hillary won the popular vote

(By a lot, over three million)

Our concerns were ignored or ridiculed

We snowflakes formed a blizzard in 2020

This time we won

(By a lot, over seven million votes)

We even won the electoral vote, 306

We celebrated. There was joy in our hearts.

You called us cheaters that stole the election

You tried to bully us with your weapons.

What frightens you?

You shout with distorted faces full of hate.

You call yourself patriots as you carry flags

Confederate, Nazi and many bearing the name of your deity

“Don’t Tread on Me,” one of your flags says

(Another American icon soiled by you)

And now our Capitol

What have you done?

Feces on the floor and walls

Blood on the busts of heroes

Broken windows and furniture

You tried to break America

Some ask us to “put this behind and move forward”

Your deity finally said there would be

A peaceful transition of the Presidency

Seriously?    His cult has ruined that.

 We are not part of his cult.

We cannot put this behind us until

There is accountability.

We saw the carnage on January, 6, 2021.

We saw the disregard for respect

As you lowered the American Flag and

Raised the flag of your deity.

Please, don’t call yourselves Patriots and

Don’t express your love of America

From afar you looked like roaches

Crawling on the outside of the Capitol building

Inside, you tried to destroy the

Heart Center of America

You tried to bully our leaders into submission

You caused the death of five people

But there are questionable ‘leaders’

Those who still voted to

Object to the electoral votes,

One even raised his fist in support of terrorists;

You are traitors, too.

Your theatrics were lies intended to

Anger the citizens.

And look what transpired.

Death and Carnage at the Capitol while you

Were tucked away in a safe area.

But all of you failed

You did not break America

You only strengthened it.

Congress returned and finished the vote.

Were the murders worth this?

Did you please your cult leader?

How did it feel when he said that he would

Walk to the Capitol Building with you

But instead, he hid away in the White House

Watching your treasonous acts

He will be the first to abandon you

When you are hauled off to jail

America has learned a lesson

The enemy within cannot be ignored

The enemy within must be found

The enemy within must suffer consequences.

And You, You to whom this is written,

YOU ARE THE ENEMY WITHIN

May you have sleepless nights

And fear in your soulless bodies

Because you know,

America will not forget.

America will find you.

America will survive.

 Because TRUTH will prevail

With Liberty and Justice for ALL

(even we snowflakes, because we can make a blizzard)