Krazy Krauts

Fifty years ago, a determined family of four brave souls arrived in Chicago to begin their new lives in America. They were searching for the American Dream. Sure, the great immigrations of the last century were long gone, but the American Dream has this fantastic quality of never dying. With the drive to discover the freedom and greatness of America, these courageous few turned their backs on the affairs of the past.
And they knew the past all too well.
Alfred, the patriarch of this brigade, knew only to well the shadow of their old home. Germany was a wasteland, not only physically, but psychologically as well. Alfred had grown up in the same area as his wife Gisela in the Black Forest. A child when World War II engulfed civilization, and a mere boy when Hitler summoned the youths of Deutschland to do his bidding. Alfred was forced to join the army. Unwilling, however, to shed blood, Alfred waited for the proper moment. When the detachment arrived in the Black Forest, he fled into the hills, knowing the country far better than his pursuers. In the woods, he discovered many others sheltered there, hiding from the terrors of the Nazi. Alfred made do as best he could, but he could not hide forever.
The soldiers found him. Predictably, they were enraged by such insubordination and decided that the boy along with the others from the woods be executed. Alfred was set upon his knees and there he awaited the final shot.
But then they came. In all the glory of propaganda posters, the American air machine roared overhead. They rained tons of bombs down on the camp, sending the Germans scampering to their shelters.
Alfred got up. He ran like never before, and in his own words: "I staid hidden this time."

With such a story of real courage and sheer spunk, how could I dare not take interest in my heritage? Although Alfred is my mother's father, my own father one time told me that "our family is so German, it's sick." In many ways, we are a stereotypical European family. Fellowship in family and friends, the magnificence of food, and the discipline of hard word are critical components of our lives. Above all others, we hold to this maxim of Ben Franklin: "Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to prosper." Even now, I'm looking at a series of steins all in a line in our dining room. Beneath them are two ornaments straight from Germany. One says, "Gott schutze unser Haus." God bless our house. Faith brings us together often. My mother and father were the first pious Christians in our family, and, through their testimony, most of my extended family now firmly holds to the Truth.
So, what about me? Where am I in all of these Deutsche Rowdytum? That's easy! I'm proud of my heritage. I love being German, and I love my family much. Almost daily I hear about the complaints of my peers. I just don't understand how not to get along with my family. They are my best of friends, and, until recently, nothing was more important to me than them.

So, putting an end to this absurdly lengthy post:
Mutti, Vatti! Ich liebe dich!

Pretzel Twister, thanks for rock'n'roll music, The Simpsons, and all the belly laughs.

John! Thank you for cooking better than anyone has a right to cook. And for getting me eaten alive by Sea Chiggers.

Jake, you allow me to vent all my pent up video game insanity. Thanks for being my comrade and chainsawing the bejeezus out of some Locust.

Furball! O'Nelle! JDAWG! And the many, many other titles that you have. Here's to you being a light in a dark world and an encouragement to all who see you. And thanks for that Tyler guy.

Speaking of, Tyler. You, my friend, I have only to thank for the hours of LEGO Batman and LEGO Star Wars. There is no comparison, and I'll never forget swimsuit stormtrooper.

The Rock in a Hard Place, Brock, you are THE MAN. You are a mastermind, and a powerful ally. May the Force be with you. Always.

And lastly I save for you, Jennifer Brooke Hall.
I love you, and thanks for the hat.

The Brave Little Watch

So, I’m made out of plastic and some rubber. I got a computer chip in me—I think, but I’ll keep on calling it a brain. My body is roughly a circle with two flimsy legs, but usually these are connected at the ends so I make an oval. That’s because you put your wrist in there and carry me around. It’s really a great deal for me. Traveling is free as long as I tell you the time, which may confuse you because of my martial language.
Anyways, let me tell you about the guy whose arm is usually punched through me. He’s alright I suppose. A couple of times he took me hiking. That wasn’t bad, but then he was slamming against rocks and the like. I don’t see why he can’t just stay on the flipping ground. Oh, no, no, he’s got to go climb on some stupid rocks instead.
BEEP!
Oh, sorry, that’s my hour alarm. Usually I don’t have it activated, but this girl keeps on pressing the buttons.
BEEP!
There she goes again—
BEEP!
It’s my—
BEEP!
Light—
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Ah! Cut it out why don’t you! She just can’t help it sometimes. These two hang out with each other a lot, and between his crushing me and her poking me, it’s a hard life.
I don’t like the water much. Sometimes I get left out in the rain, but most of the time I’m pretty safe. I got a little tolerance for water, but it can get inside of me and mess with my head a little. Water can make me a little tipsy.
During the night, I sleep next to this cell phone. He’s cool and all, but a little too refined for me. He’s flashy and dressed up nice every day which is good for him, but I’m sticking with the rugged look. The most annoying thing about him is in the morning—every morning at 5:30 or 6:30 or some other hellish hour, he starts whistling some weird tune of his.
He’s a morning person.
But anyways, he wakes up everybody, including the wallet over there. He usually shuts up after about thirty seconds. It doesn’t matter though. No more sleep for me because when Glance over there starts his singing, everybody gets up and starts the day.
So, basically for me, I just hope I can get through a day without too much poking.
And, with any luck, the cat won’t sit on me.
No promises though.

Shall I Write a Sonnet?

Shall I write a sonnet?

And to you a summer’s day compare.

For me you have caught in a net

So that I with none do you share.

In your glorious eyes

Is God-given beauty so divine.

That when you pass, the flower sighs

Their brilliance is none like thine.

Oh object of my desire

Forgive me always, oh please

When my foolery has earned your ire.

A gentle kiss and you my heart seize

So let us forget this simple verse

And let us our love rehearse.

Cheese

The sun glodes golden silver in the night.

Like a tangerine flying in the sky, it tastes so good and sweet.

From this broken egg bubbles slurpy chicken noodle soup,

That heralds the morning cuckledom faithfully from my voice.

Down into the cosmament it flies.

Down, down, down to the moon.

Where the Swiss cheese gloops to the trees.

From those emeroon boughs taken is the forbidden fruit.

Like Scotland’s green islands, it glistens.

And from there, I yodel all the way home.

By The Book

See that no one repays anyone evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone. Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do no quench the Spirit. Do no despise prophecies, but test everything; hold fast what is good. Abstain from every form of evil.

I Thessalonians 5:15-22

Naturally, this whole passage is worthy of remembrance (as is the whole Good Book), but I'll focus on this part, the most famous part, "Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."

Everyone experiences times of difficulty in life--it's a known fact. The amount of parables warning of life's travails and warding us away from pitfalls is innumerable. Sometimes these events manifest only as a bad day or a flat tire, but others are much more serious, possibly even fatal. No one experiencing these things can be expected to be unaffected, but there are some who rise above the situations of life. There are those who are consistently joyful. Rejoice does not necessarily coincide with enjoyment; instead, to rejoice is a far greater thing. Joy is a difficult emotion on which to tack a definition, but it amounts to contentment and walks hand-in-hand with love, peace, and hope. I try to watch myself. It is easy to forget prosperous times when confronted with calamity. I have no choice though; God's Word is God's Word. In the end though, joy has a wonderful habit of infecting everyone it touches.

Prayer. Often this tool is laid aside for the darkest of times. Too often we are content with supplication only after all of our efforts have been in vain. This system is all-together foolish. Prayer is an instrument of incredible power, true, and should be summoned when terrible events occur. However, if God is faithful to help in the great things, how much more so will he use His divine power in the small troubles of life? I pray before every test and quiz at school. I pray before exams, traveling, exercise, and whenever it hits me. Of course, I'm far from a saint. I forget to pray all the time. But when I talk to family, my girlfriend, my friends and I hear of the simplest difficulty, all I have to do is pray for God's grace to be poured out on that person.

And after all of these things you cannot help but give thanks. A Christian has no other (faithful) option but to acclaim the works of the Creator at all times. Thank Him for all the mysteries he concocts because, as it says in Genesis 50:20, "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good, to accomplish what is now being done: the saving of many lives."

By the way, "Abstaining from every form of evil" is always a good word by which to live.

Listen Up Young'n's

As one great philosopher wrote: "R-E-S-P-E-C-T, find out what it means to me!"

Our teachers devote their lives to education--to educating you. Most have far more knowledge than any teenager at any school. They at least have their bachelor's, and passed any examination required to be employed. Such attributes naturally deserve some respect, but teachers also deserve the respect of their students because they are set over them. As a student, you may find them disagreeable at times, but that is no excuse for aggravation. Of course, this does not excuse teachers from earning their respect. There is no reason for incompetence in education; every teacher must maintain a standard of quality some other careers do not require. I guarantee that if you respect your teachers your learning will become much more beneficial.