Monday, November 10, 2008


In every city in America, there's an edge. There are edges everywhere, some smooth, some rough. Where there's construction happening, there's an additional edge of axiety. There are those who, like hawks, concentrate on the advantages of being on the edge. It's not like a walk down Main Street; it's an area that is as transient as the bus stations, a place where things change every few minutes. Sure, there's much to be said about living on the edge, but living on the edge in today's society is different than it was in the 1950s. Beware of the edge.

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My dad's dad, my grandfather, was nine years old when President Lincoln died from an assassin's bullet. Most people think I am speaking of my GREAT GRANDFATHER. NO, I am referring to my dad's father, my paternal Grandfather, Robert Levi Huffstutter, born in 1856. What does this information have to do with my profile? It might help the reader understand that I have a sense of being much older than I am in that only one generation seperates me from President Lincoln. This causes me to respond differently to society and many current events. In many respects, this is to my benefit, in other respects it dates my mindset. Perhaps this is the reason I value the moral standards and idealogies of older Americans, the men who were the soldiers and sailors I saw when I was a small boy,the men and women who fought a war for freedom without any doubts posted by a media with a questionable lack of national unity and purpose.