February 23, 2025

Eagles, Fish, Dogs, and Turkeys: Persistence Pays Off

 

(c) Gary R. Jones

Last year we had a few months that were both fun and hard at our house. Fun because I met wonderful people at writing events and at intuitive events with my crystal partner, Fallon. People who make me believe that community is possible and present and glad that I keep trying. No matter what.

Hard because both my dogs landed in the ER in the middle of the night, three days apart. Murphy almost died from the dog flu, which is epidemic out here these days. And Alki ripped a toenail off in his sleep, proving that bizarre clumsiness is routine at our house.  A month later Grace the Cat got sick. And I was in PT for two painful injuries. We were all sleep deprived, wondering how to keep going, and, okay, hungry.

The solution? We cooked our Thanksgiving turkey early. Grace supervised from the counter while the dogs watched in awe as I lifted the turkey to present it to them—only to see it slide off the platter and hit the floor. Grace was appalled, which is her usual reaction to my cooking, but the dogs were, well, dogs, and immediately rushed forward to clean up the mess.

I had to laugh. I had living proof that even well-mannered, laid-back Cavalier King Charles Spaniels can and will seize any opportunity that presents itself. A meal is a meal, sometimes an adventure, and always a gift.

Which reminds me of the fascinating bald eagles of Alki Beach in Seattle. They are frequently challenged here, but they never give up. They ignore obstacles, or somehow get around them. Do they always win? Of course not. But they don’t stop going around.

(c) Danny L. McMillin

Like the bald eagle I spotted recently, being swarmed by gulls above the Alki Point Light House. The eagle calmly flew through the gulls, despite being so pressured it could barely spread its wings. It swooped down towards the beach and disappeared from sight. Shortly afterwards the eagle flew up again and right through the angry gulls. Clutching a large fish.

Awesome!

Once again I’d been inspired by a bald eagle to challenge myself (and my animal family) to keep going, ignore the obstacles, or figure out a way to get through them. The eagle kept its focus on lunch and scored, despite being harassed by the neighborhood bullies.

My family could focus and persist, too. And did. Yes. We ignored the messed-up turkey and ate it. And laughed as we put a hard month behind us.

Despite our obstacles, my family and I persevered. We celebrated life and love together. Our favorite holiday is Thanksgiving, even when the turkey gets away.

It didn’t get far, and neither does love at our house.

May we always celebrate together. Enjoy our challenges. They’re part of the story. And the gift of life.

Persevere. Love. Laugh.

Keep trying.

© 2012 Robyn M Fritz

Are You Stuck? Or Living a Bald Eagle Life?

 

(c) Gary R. Jones

If life were easy we wouldn’t get stuck. Or laugh. It’s all in our perspective.

Which reminds me of the bald eagles who share our beach with us. I love these birds, and I sometimes think it would fun to be one. And then I think: “raw fish.” Eww.

Yes, it’s definitely about perspective.

Do we learn from whatever comes at us, and enjoy life, or do we overwhelm ourselves with resentment and ‘what if’s’?

 Perspective: Ever had an eagle yell at you? One morning about 6 I was out with my dogs, waiting for them to do their “stuff.” An adult bald eagle was perched in a nearby Madrona tree. It peered close at us, glared at my dogs, and then cocked its head to glare at me! And screech! Really, I clean up, but that day I did it facing that screechy bird! I giggled all day, and got some great work done. Does the mundane ever become hilarious? And an inspiration to shine at your work? If not, how can it be? 

(c) Gary R. Jones

Watch your back: Eagles don’t always get along. They’re quite clear about what works for them, and what doesn’t. They get things done.

Do you work out misunderstandings? How? Do you stand your ground when you need to, honoring your commitment to your clients? To yourself? Your family?

Keep your eyes on the prize: Eagles are always watching. Something.

If you don’t reach for the moon, the stars, and everything in between, how do you become great? Be fully present in the moment. Be aware of your surroundings. Be grateful.

Live in the moment: Last spring I saw a bald eagle soaring above I-5 in downtown Seattle, catching the air currents, skillful, unconcerned, uninterested in all the humans stuck in traffic below it. That eagle was free and wild, not impeded by lane changes.

Are you? What inspires you to fly free? What gets you unstuck? What makes you laugh?

I’m willing to learn from my nonhuman mentors. Are you?

© 2012 Robyn M Fritz

 

Getting Unstuck with Bald Eagles

(c) Danny L. McMllin

What inspires you to keep going, no matter what? Is it an admirable person? A dynamic leader? A work of art?

Bald eagles inspire me. Watching them in my Seattle neighborhood reminds me to keep going, no matter what.

Yes, bald eagles.

Why do I write about nonhuman mentors? Because my business is about challenging mindset through storytelling, and creating new ways of thinking about life in the world with my crystal partner, Fallon. Because the people, and businesses, who prosper think outside the norm, to learn from the world around them.

Bald eagles are normal: we just don’t see them that much. So when we do, or hear about them, we stop and think about just what it is we’re seeing. And learning.

I’m inspired by watching eagle generations: the mature bald eagles with the classic white heads and tails and their growing offspring, the mottled maybe-two-year-olds I call the juveniles (okay, maybe the technical term is ‘immature’).

Eagles clearly have the basics in life nailed down. They’re fully present in the act of being bald eagles, even when they goof up.

We, however, live in the most technologically advanced civilization ever, but many of us are stuck. Who isn’t for getting unstuck?

Nail the landing: One morning I looked out the window and saw several dozen crows and gulls in flight, harassing an eagle, who ignored them as it majestically landed in a fir tree. For an instant it was magical, and then the eagle fell out of the tree. As it fell it immediately took flight, with the gulls and crows still after it.

Do you get cocky? Where do you need to tweak your life plans? How quickly do you recover from your goof-ups? In time to soar? Or do you crash? What’s the difference?

Respect your elders; understand the risks: Grace the Cat, our family cat, is an indoor cat except for regular forays through our deck garden. You’d think she’d be clueless about the badass world out there, but she is Grace. She sits in the window, scolds the chickadees and crows, and spies on passing cats, raccoons, possums, squirrels, and even an occasional coyote, but … a bald eagle? One day Grace was strolling towards our sliding glass doors when an adult eagle perched on the light pole across the street swiveled its head and stared right at her. For one stunning instant Grace and the eagle were eye to eye, then Grace promptly flattened herself on the floor, head tucked under her arm. Smart cat, not taking any chances! Scold a crow, yes. Hunt an eagle? Never.

How street smart are you? What do you do when someone is bigger and badder than you are? Duck and cover? Change tactics? Play nice? Hide?

(c) Gary R. Jones

Run in a good crowd: When bald eagles hang out, it’s with other bald eagles. Every other bird is either after them (clearly not successful, since the eagles ignore them) or respectfully hanging on the sidelines.

Who are the eagles in your life? Why? What do you learn from them? What do they learn from you? Do they inspire you?

Our challenge for greatness: I’m willing to learn from my nonhuman mentors. Are you? It’s a lot less pressure, and a lot more storytelling. The thing is, we know humans, even when we think we don’t. But if you look at the nonhumans you see how others get along (or don’t), without all the game playing that humans do. The lessons we learn from them are priceless: we’re not pressured to conform, as we often are with humans. We’re simply given space to observe and appreciate other life.

To get unstuck from the daily grind. To learn from it. Which helps us soar.

Which makes us great.

© 2012 Robyn M Fritz

Living the Bald Eagle Life: Our Challenge for Greatness

(c) Danny L. McMillin

Who are your role models? What challenges you to greatness?

Okay, easy if you’re thinking humans, but my work is about creating community with all life. I tend to draw inspiration from the world around me.

Like bald eagles. Let’s take a look.

Bald eagles regularly perch in a scraggly Madrona tree above our Alki Beach neighborhood in Seattle, benignly ignoring their oh-so-human admirers (and their many crow and gull detractors). Traffic stops, crowds gather, and those of us privileged to live here just smile. We love our eagles.

One thing that is particularly fascinating is sharing our beach with eagle generations: the mature bald eagles with the classic white heads and tails and their growing offspring, the mottled maybe-two-year-olds I call the juveniles (and perhaps the bird people call ‘immatures’).

I tend to look beyond humans for inspiration, from learning to get along to being the best person I can be, personally and professionally. For role models I look to our bald eagles: they work hard to earn a living, but they know what to concentrate on, and when. Bald eagles live their lives triumphantly, despite the occasional goof-ups.

 What Challenges You to Greatness?

Who are your role models? What do you learn from them? What challenges you to greatness?

Is it the economy? We’re told it sucks and the stress is making people nuts. But what if we saw our economic quandary as an opportunity?

Think positive. Challenge our mindset. Think fresh. Think …

What in the world can we learn from a bald eagle?

Eagles get what counts: the basics. And they’re fully present in the act of being: bald eagles. Even when they goof up.

Sure, they have to get the basics: screw up in nature and you die. (True for us, too, though, isn’t it?) But somehow we just expect more from bald eagles. After all, they’re not only back from the brink of extinction but confident, strong, and sure of their place in the world.

We, however, don’t always get that bald eagles are just like us: greatness prone to goof-ups. So what does that teach us?

 Learn from experience: I watched the bald eagle parents teaching their kids the aerodynamics of flying. They circled and swooped over the Alki Point Light House, the parents dipping in and around the juveniles, who’d clumsily struggle to imitate them, over and over.

Who is teaching you to fly? How hard are you working to learn? How do you measure success? Practice practice practice.

Perseverence: Out with my dogs, I watched two juveniles circling above me, barely clearing a light pole, laboring to gain altitude. They didn’t quit, even with gulls and crows diving at them. In fact, about the third circling they actually began to look graceful as they succeeded.

How do you gain altitude? What keeps you going, and learning?

I keep learning. If something isn’t working in my business, I tweak it or try something new. But I don’t forget the basics. We all have to stay afloat.

(c) Gary R. Jones

Ignore the crowd: Gulls and crows constantly harass the eagles, ganging up on them, chasing and diving at them. I’ve never seen the eagles fight back: they ignore their tormenters, even as they’re often driven off. But they always go where they want to, and they keep coming back. Recently I saw two crows harassing an eagle sitting in a fir tree across the street. Even when one crow raked its butt and knocked it off balance, the eagle simple re-balanced and adjusted its feathers, never once acknowledging the crows.

What’s chasing you? Do you know where you’re going, and why? Do you shrug off disappointments or take them out on others? What keeps you coming back? What makes you the boss, or a team player?

Excel at what you do: I noticed an osprey making off with a fish so heavy the osprey fought to hang on to it and still fly. An eagle swooped in, chasing and snatching at the osprey, trying to get it to drop the fish. The osprey dodged and kept going, until the eagle hit it hard enough it dropped the fish. The eagle snatched it mid-air and flew off.

What keeps you persevering? What makes you give up? What do you excel at? Why? What’s working for you? What’s challenging you to greatness?

Who are your role models, and why?

(c) 2012 Robyn M Fritz

How Fallon and I Meet the World

Being out in the world with a crystal ball is fascinating. My partner, Fallon, is a Citrine Lemurian Quartz, a rare planetary and dimensional energy.

What does that mean? I’m discovering that every day. Fallon is a healer, an advisor, a warm, compassionate being. He’s not human. He’s a crystal, which means he has eons of experience just ready for people to tap. With him I have gone to new depths as an intuitive and a consultant, I’ve learned to listen without taking it in, to participate without being drained. Together we’re a team, acutely aware that we’re doing something new in the world, and that it isn’t always an easy path.

Because of preconceptions.

There are the crystal skull people. Some of them scorn us. Don’t know why, don’t care too much. Some of them are cool and welcome all beings to a cooperative life.

There are my friends. Some of them laugh, some have left, most have stuck around, if for nothing more than humor value. Robyn and a crystal ball, how funny is that? Not so much, as it turns out, if there’s business on the line. A lot, though, if they need to talk, even if they don’t want anyone to know they’ve consulted a woman with a crystal ball as a partner. Whatever. Helping one mind to shift could make a difference, although when is another thing. Fallon will live that long, but will I?

There are clients, people who want an intuitive consultation, or their house cleared, or a ghost busted, or the unique personal or business insight that intuition provides—especially if one of the intuitive partners has, literally, seen it all (and a crystal sure has, hasn’t it?). These people like us, and they come back to Alchemy West for more.

There are potential clients. They have no idea what having an intuitive session with a human-crystal partnership is like, and they are surprised when they see us. Because we “don’t look like that.”

Honest, I used to ask what they mean by “look like that,” but it got a little old. It was always the same thing: “You don’t look like a gypsy.”

The same thing that, ironically, made some people tell me that my new Alchemy West branding made them “cringe.” Why? Because there we are in the banner, on the business cards, out there for all the world to puzzle at: a woman and a crystal ball.

It’s modern, it’s sleek and professional, it’s bold and daring. There is no question that we are out there, and proud of it.

But some people can’t get past the “crystal ball” and what their oddball cultural notions tell them is “gypsy,” which equates to “something unsavory or at least cornball.”

I’d be offended if it wasn’t hilarious. When they look at me and Fallon they see something they’ve made up: their preconceptions, which are culturally ingrained, and clearly irrelevant and limiting.

The first time someone said I didn’t look like a gypsy I was flabbergasted.

What do gypsies look like? And why, oh why, is a woman with a crystal ball a gypsy? I wasn’t insulted, I was discombobulated. And what about real gypsies? I should think they’d be insulted to be compared to someone who isn’t one. Or at least be annoyed. And, possibly, hurt. The gypsy culture is ancient and respectable. The parallels with that to me and Fallon are just plain mean and thoughtless.

It wasn’t funny anymore when someone took a leap and decided crystal balls were evil.

What?

It was clear it was time to challenge stereotypes. Especially the ones that get stuck in our heads because we don’t stop to unstick them. The ones that mess us up and keep the world from becoming a healthier place to be. The things that have become government and religious stereotypes.

I’m quite clear about my branding: about how I appear in the world, how Fallon and I appear together. I’m clear that we’re different, because I know we are, and it matters.

When I’m out with Fallon I make a point of dressing conservatively, because people come to us for serious reasons, and they don’t need distractions (plus, truth is, I’m lazy and prefer to blend into my surroundings, like normal prey animals). I usually wear black clothes and my turquoise and aquamarine necklaces, with my new dragon pendant. And severe black glasses. So I don’t look like the stereotypes (again, my apologies to gypsies), but, then, I never did.

Truth is, that’s my dressed up look. You’ll usually find me in seasonal fleece and jeans. With a sense of humor and a couple of sidekick dogs for accessories.

But here’s the thing.

It’s easy to dismiss the challenges in life by calling them names that allow you to mock. It’s not so easy to dismiss the challenges that ask you to step outside the norm and challenge your preconceptions—because you just might have to change your life, and then where would you be?

Fallon and I are living outside the norm, so you don’t have to. Yet. The time is coming.

And that’s what Fallon and I are doing in the world: we are challenging the norms. We do intuitive consultations, but they aren’t spiritual: we teach people how to use their intuition to find their personal truth. We cooperatively clear space: we don’t force energy to change, like some energy workers or shaman types. We use a form of ancient energy that is new in the world, and it is stunning. We are a partnership: Fallon is not my tool, nor am I his, because we are equal partners.

Are we making a difference? Slowly. Are we building a business? Yes. Do we have a sense of humor? Always.

How else do you respond when you’re introduced as Robyn, and the person looks blank until they’re told, “You know, she’s with Fallon,” and the light dawns.

They know Fallon. He knows them.

Nope, our partnership isn’t an easy path, but it’s a fun one.

And, yes, it’s worth it.

© 2012 Robyn M Fritz

The Alchemy West Committee at Work

There is a thing called the Alchemy West Committee. It is a real group, a business and life group, and not what you’d generally expect in either—because it includes me (a human), my animal family, two volcanoes, a beach, our condo, our car, my crystal partner Fallon, all my crystal friends, guides, and, well, all the beings who have something to say about the business we call Alchemy West.

I’m the only human here on a regular basis.

I didn’t set out to start a revolution. I just meant to start a business, and to let it grow at its own pace. That turned out to be slow enough to worry about profits, and big enough to go out in the world with my crystal partner, Fallon, to launch an intuitive consulting business that defies stereotypes. Really.

Big enough to embrace the world as a business that has nonhuman partners, to begin to model a new way of thinking and living in the world: all life together.

All the beings who are part of the Alchemy West Committee have something to say about the business. They also join in: if it weren’t for them, the classes I teach on how to develop your intuition would be like everyone else’s, instead of real opportunities for anyone with an open mind to learn how to tap their intuition and their connection with all life by speaking with dragons, a rock-and-roll goddess, cars, buildings, trees, crystals, wind, all the beings who show up to explore life in harmony with, well, all life.

They join in to help us all create community in the world.

Yes, serious topic. Fun, too.

And, some days, it’s just me, working in my office, accompanied by my hardworking animal family.

Yes, hardworking. Even sound asleep.

The good thing about the Alchemy West Committee? We take ourselves seriously. No matter what.

The question is: how many businesses take themselves seriously? It’s not just about money (that helps), or great employees (also helps).

It’s about mindset.

We’re comfortable with ours.

How about you?

© 2012 Robyn M Fritz

When Neighbors are Creatives: and Share Bald Eagles

Seattle has bonuses. Some of them are bald eagles.

In our Seattle neighborhood we cherish our bald eagles. Some of us are old enough to remember when they just weren’t around. The youngest of us take them for granted.

And some of our neighbors are skilled photographers who freely share their love of bald eagles and photography with all of us.

Gary R. Jones is one of those people. Here, for your viewing pleasure, are some recent bald eagle photos he shared with me.

They are copyrighted: © 2012 Gary R. Jones. Please enjoy them and respect them.

Bridging the Paradigms isn’t the best showcase for photos. It is, however, a place where community is respected and appreciated, where good businesses and people are promoted.

Enjoy.

How A Simple Thanks Will Pop Your Business

I just bought dishes from Crate & Barrel. It’s not the first time I’ve purchased from them. It sure has heck won’t be the last.

I like the value of their products. You can buy inexpensive home products or go nuts for their higher end stuff. I love their Classic Century Dinnerware, designed by a woman in 1952 (hey, it was a great year and still looks great). I regretfully settled for a cheaper design that fit my budget and my clumsiness factor.

I like their service. In the store, they are as attentive to an $8 purchase (listening to what I needed, and offering suggestions) as they were to my online order.

But there’s nothing like a really pleasant surprise to seal the deal.

They delivered the dishes to my door. Essential when you’re handicapped and can’t lift and carry. Sure, everyone will do that, and some of them for free (this was).

It was what was inside the box that surprised me. You couldn’t miss it. Sitting right in the middle of the box, so it was the first thing you spotted: a thank you card.

A thank you card. “Big thanks” it said.

As I stared at it, I felt a big grin take over my face.

I opened the card. It included a thanks for buying and simple directions on what to do if I needed anything else. And, of course, my shipping bill.

Wow, think of that. A few quick lines. A follow-up thank you email.

A customer for life.

I thank my clients, too. Not as elegantly, I discovered. But I will.

After all, when a huge company can personalize a transaction with a mass-produced thank you card, then one person in business can do it, too. This company has it down: distinctive graphics, good products, a personal touch.

I thank people in person who come to see me and my crystal partner, Fallon. I thank everyone for everything. But this little touch reminded me that we happily do business with people who pay attention to us. It’s the little things that build community.

Like thanking customers for their business with a simple yet elegant thank you card clearly tied to the brand.

Thanks for the lesson, Crate & Barrel.

I will be definitely be back.

So, when was the last time a business thanked you for shopping with them? And when did you last thank someone for shopping with you? Did it matter?

© 2011 Robyn M Fritz

Tech Wizardry: At Last My Genes Don’t Matter

From my dad I inherited the ability to not understand mechanical things, so I can’t figure out how to get machines—and tools—to work.

From my mom I inherited the talent to sew a button on a shirt while sewing the shirt to my pants.

Mystification. Clumsiness. And left handed to boot!

Then I got an iPhone 4s.

And it didn’t matter.

© 2011 Robyn M Fritz

No Jobs Are Menial: America Get to Work Already

 

Occupy this and protest that, but get to work already.

Now, are you going to scream at me or read this article?

It’s true, many people are unemployed, can’t get employed, and are suffering. Their children are suffering. Their animals.

Many people want to work. They find what they can and are proud to have a job, whatever it is.

I salute those people.

Many others are chronic complainers. They have no work ethic and don’t want one. They want to work, but stop when they make a buck or two. They live off unemployment because they can. They retire donkey years earlier than anyone else because they have a government pension (or worse, are proud that they are ‘double-dippers’).

You, fellow Americans, need to get back to work. Now.

I know very well about working, about wanting to work, about not being able to. I’ve been handicapped for 22 years. I couldn’t work for more than 15 of them, because of illness and physical limitations. So I worked on what I could: I polished my writing, I worked to get healthy, I created a healthy balanced life with animals, I lived community with my family and friends. I took care of my aging, ill parents.

I worked at health.

I wanted to go to a regular job and couldn’t. I also knew that no employer would have someone who’s handicapped like I am, because chronic illness is unpredictable.

So I created my own company. I quietly nurtured a loyal client base, helping people develop and publish their books. I taught writing. As I developed my intuitive abilities, I launched an intuitive consulting business. Now that’s what I do: I write true stories and I help people learn to tap their intuition. My partner is a crystal. His name is Fallon.

I’m working as best as I can.

I don’t quit. I won’t. I can’t. Why?

Because good work is part of life. It creates and nurtures life. It balances us.

The problem is, we Americans have forgotten what that means.

So I was intrigued by an article at msnbc.com contributed by Elizabeth Dwoskin at Bloomberg Businessweek. Crops are rotting in the fields, essential services are not getting done, because Americans call it ‘menial labor.’ They won’t work in the fields. They won’t clean homes and businesses. Well, look beyond your noses at this quote from Dwoskin’s article:

‘Massey says Americans didn’t turn away from the work merely because it was hard or because of the pay but because they had come to think of it as beneath them. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the job itself,” he says. In other countries, citizens refuse to take jobs that Americans compete for. In Europe, Massey says, “auto manufacturing is an immigrant job category. Whereas in the States, it’s a native category.”‘

Americans want to be managers. To them that means they tell other people what to do. They are inspired by personal coaches (I’ve not quite figured out what they are, but they are busy) who write golden futures for them that somehow lead them to classify work. No one wants to do the basics.

Well, I see it differently.

I grew up in a small Oregon town where the kids got up at the crack of dawn in the summer, climbed on buses, and went to pick crops so farmers could get that food to the cannery or grocer. Today, crops rot in the fields because no one will pick them.

Yes, my parents wouldn’t let us pick crops. Instead, my dad put me to work in his pharmacy/gift shop in the seventh grade. My dad had a habit of choosing shy, industrious teens to work in his store. He helped them become hardworking, honest citizens with a strong work ethic and the know-how to follow through.

I have an MBA from the University of Michigan, one of the top business schools in the country, but what I learned about good solid work came from my dad.

We need more dads like that right now. We need more people who are willing to work, and work hard, and do good work.

I’ve met some of them. Two of them clean my house for me, necessary because my body isn’t strong enough to do it myself. These two women are excellent examples of work ethic: they come in, they clean expertly, and they take pride in their work. They are also hilarious: they keep wanting to do more, because my standard of housekeeping isn’t up to theirs. Not once have they ever said anything I asked them to do was menial. They chose a business. They do a fabulous job. I admire them.

I do not get computers. I was simply too sick in the early years and now too busy to go back and figure them out. I have had a hard time finding people to work for me, to do computer work. One small business offered a simple website in two weeks, and three months later still had done nothing. Another badmouthed me to my face, not to mention other people, and refused to follow directions while complaining about ‘menial work.’ Fortunately, I now have a terrific website guy who keeps things running, never complains about his work, and is deservedly swamped. I continue to seek an able, supportive, genial assistant: asking around, I find many other people experiencing the same problem I have—people won’t work amd simply don’t know how to.

I have had other people ask to work for me, and when I call back to book their services, turns out they’ve just made a few bucks and they “don’t do that work.”

Menial labor again.

Well I talk with things. With homes, businesses, animals, chairs, cars, weather systems, whatever. I see the world from what I call an earth paradigm. I know we’re all in it together. All of us, no matter what it looks like. All life believes that. Except some humans.

I know that no work is menial. That word has no real meaning. Unless you’re mistakenly arrogant.

I have never in my life looked down on any work as beneath me. As not important or crucial for society. I am in awe of construction workers, and grocers, and farmers, and sometimes even physicists (for making livings making things up, and with math no less!).

I am grateful for the good honest work that so many people do.

And I am telling you, and everyone out there, that we don’t build an economy with people who won’t work. Who look down on doing whatever honest work there is to keep going. Who choose honest work and do it well.

Just quit complaining. Be glad you have a healthy body that can work. You can make any work mean something. And you can put food on America’s tables by picking those crops, keeping things clean, building things that work, and taking pride in making a contribution.

Because if you won’t, other people will. They aren’t Americans now. But they will be. Because they live what Americans should be living: productive lives.

They do the work. All work matters.

So?

© 2011 Robyn M Fritz. Photo of bald eagle in flight, (c) Danny L. McMillin