The Dangers of Socialism are ignored Because of Promised Perks

“Victims of War” are usually women and children. Here “History repeats itself!” 24 x 18 mixed media on canvas

In America, the Land of Plenty, we’ve grown soft. Many of us have experienced affluence, opportunity, security, a good education and a clear path to success.

According to a recent article by Cal Thomas “51% of young people between the ages of 18-29 do not support capitalism; yet even the poorest American lives better and has more opportunity for advancement than most of the rest of the world.

“Why does socialism receive such strong support among the young?” Thomas writes. “Could it be that socialism A.K.A communism is being peddled in our schools, and that newspapers and demagogues in the higher echelons of government are pushing socialism because it makes them richer and more powerful (votes)? After all, who wouldn’t rather get a check than earn one?

Thomas uses quotes to point out the fallacies of Socialism “both its false promise and its danger:”

“Socialism is a philosophy of failure, the creed of ignorance, and the gospel of envy, its inherent virtue is the equal sharing of misery.” – Winston Churchill

“The problem with socialism is that eventually you run out of other people’s money.” – Margaret Thatcher

“The goal of socialism is communism,” Vladimir Lenin (No matter how many times Bernie and Hillary deny it!).

“Capitalism and its political sister, democracy, offer opportunity, not guaranteed outcome. Socialism is mutually shared poverty.” Cal Thomas

“Prayer Circles” 24 x 18 acrylic on canvas

My previous blog was also politically motivated. We are in a critical juncture in America. We are leaving behind the principles that guided us in the past, and we are treating with disdain those Constitutional precepts that have made our country great for more than two hundred years. We are allowing our emotions and our lusts to determine our choices rather than history’s lessons of the past, truth or common sense.

Young people who embrace the promises and slogans of socialism should travel more to gain a perspective on what this lifestyle means. When I was last in Germany the wall was still up splitting the city of Berlin right down the middle. We were able to compare modern Berlin to its poverty-stricken sister in the East.

We cowered as we showed our passports and boarded the train. Eerie quiet confronted us on the east side as we walked into the first plaza. Red Soviet flags hung from many of the buildings. I was about to take a photo and was told by an uniformed guard that photographs were not allowed.

We used a lavatory in the visitor’s building. Coarse paper was in some cases provided as was a half-used bar of soap. We discovered later that toilet paper in East Berlin was in short supply.

People spoke softly or very little. We stumbled into a small café at lunchtime and discovered it filled with workers on their break. All eyes were upon us as we sat down. Then their private conversations continued. We were able to order something to eat and chose what the locals were having: a bowl of soup and a slice of bread.

We were able to bring a few souvenirs across the border upon our return. I chose some ordinary shops; a hardware store and a small department store. I wanted to see what the residents normally purchased and how they lived. I came home with a small shelf that was nailed with wooden pegs, and two planters that were made without any nails. We also bought our children a Russian set of nesting dolls made in the Ukraine.

It became obvious by the end of the day that the people lived simply and in constant fear. They, and us, were being watched and monitored. If the citizens received any goods or services from “The State” it was not obvious. When people are entrapped and they can’t travel or purchase fine things for themselves, they are nothing more than prisoners and slaves in their own land.

“Prince of Thieves” 20 x 16  canvas — Oil on acrylic under painting

In socialism and communism the only people who eat well and spend luxuriously are the ruling class. Everyone else is a ward of the state. What happens is the ambitious and powerful rise to the top while the regular folks, the workers fall into poverty and stagnation.

Is shared poverty what you want? Will you trade your freedoms for dependency and submission? In the beginning having free healthcare, free education and food sounds fantastic. But all that glitters is not gold. Someone has to pay the piper and it just might be you.

 

Wars are Won and Lost but the Greatest Battles are Fought Within the Heart

“Americana” 16×20 acrylic on canvas

When I was a child, I’d sneak a flashlight into bed and read under the covers. Somehow my mother always knew what I was up to; but before she did, I had many an adventure.

I’ve always loved to read. I worry that today people are so plugged into their smart phones, games, and movies that they miss out on the thrill of imagination and the deep emotional connection only a good book can bring.

Of course, people once said that eventually libraries would be obsolete and that children would forget how to read. Then along came Kindle, and now probably more people read than ever before because they have a lightweight device they can slip into a backpack or purse, take to the beach, or read on a plane. And what of the libraries? They adapted.

“An Open Book” mixed media on canvas (SOLD) Prints available

Libraries today are centered on the new technology to make research and information gathering even better. They’ve transferred the old video movies onto DVDs or online experiences. And fortunately, the patrons are there in throngs.

The regional library I go to is always busy from morning until night. The library also sponsors early voting and other community events from art shows to guest speakers continuing their reputation as the prime learning and information center in the area.

Books can take us out of our comfort zone. They may jar us, rattle our cage, and challenge our perceptions. Books may actually change us. Good literature can enlarge our souls and make us better people. In the same vein, negative or poorly written books not only waste our time, but may make us less than what we can be because they appeal to our baser nature.

“Victims of war” — Innocent children.

I just finished reading a beautifully written book on my Kindle called “All the Light we cannot See” by Anthony Doerr. It falls into my favorite genre, historical fiction; but it is far different from any war story I have ever read. The exquisite character revelations and subtleties are sublime. I could hardly put the book down and I hated coming to end. I became so close to the lead characters that I laughed and cried with them. I felt their fear and their pain.

In my lifetime, World War II slashed an ugly gash across the world, although, I was too young to remember it. My father worked at the shipyards in Bremerton, Washington, repairing ships that had been damaged. He was a welder. He was a giant. I rode astride his shoulders and felt that he could conquer the earth.

My mother washed our bedding and clothes in the bath tub by hand because they couldn’t afford a wash machine. She hung our clothes on a wooden rack in our living room around a hot oil stove.

After a bath, my older sister and I would crowd around the stove in the middle of winter to warm ourselves. More than once, I dropped my towel and burned my bottom bending over to pick it up.

A fox hole and a gun, his only protection.

We shopped in a warehouse that had sawdust on its floors. We used our ration book to decide what we could buy and then tried to make our purchases last through the month. Remembering how it was and what we experienced could still not compare to the people and countries that were occupied during World War II.

You think you know what poverty is try boiling potato peelings in a pot without meat and squeezing the last bit of nutrition from them as your meal for the day. And when fresh water is not available, try drinking from the saved water in your bath tub or a few pails set aside for that purpose.

Survivors of German Prison Camps after World War II ended.

When a sweet orange or a loaf of bread comes your way, you are filled with tears of gratitude. Most of us never experience real hunger. There is always someone somewhere who will provide for our needs. Not so during war when imprisonment, danger and scarcity makes it almost impossible to conduct business or to plant or harvest.

Even in war times we have a choice to act with integrity and gratitude. There are always those who use the chaos to their advantage. They take from those who have and they hurt the weak and vulnerable. May that never be said of you. If your character and who you are sink to the lowest levels of human behavior, then the real war has already been lost.

Travel before you are Too Old to Smell the Roses

Linderhof Castle

I’m reading a book called “The Ludwig Conspiracy” by Oliver Potzsch dubbed as a “historical thriller.” This adventure takes place in Bavaria and Munich and brings back so many memories of when my first husband and I were frolicking over the Swiss Alps and through the magnificent Black Forest.

Ballroom where Wagner’s music was performed

I’m reminded of places like Oberammergau, where one could find cuckoo clocks, wooden plates with rosemaling similar to that in Norway, and fine wood carvings.

Oberammergau

We toured the magnificent castles of Neuschwanstein and Linderhof where Wagner performed on stage and where ballroom dances took place in the great hall.

Neuschwanstein Castle

Our trip started in Bremen and was prompted by a conference for my husband’s employment. While he sat in meetings, I was able to tour the fascinating Schnoor Quarter with its narrow streets and colorful houses and shops that were restored and preserved from another era.

Schnoor Quarter

At night we dined in the Ratskeller and ate delicacies I’d never heard of before. We saw the famous “Bremen Town Musicians” bronze statue and the lovely harbor frequented by Scandinavians who vacation in this area.

Bremen Town Musicians

The Berlin wall was still up and we were able to see the contrast between the thriving, robust and buzzing city in the free West and the fearful, regressive, and guarded Berlin of the East.

We chose to eat soup and bread with the workers at lunch time, and I purchased some finds from a local hardware store where planters were still put together with wooden nails. I also bought my children some fantastic wooden toys and a large set of stacking dolls.

In Munich I was able to get some Hummel statues and see the famous Glockenspiel. Here we learned that the residents pronounced the name of their city “Munchen.”

Glockenspiel in Munich

One of my first paintings was of a bridge laden with bright red geraniums with a green river flowing beneath it. I’ve forgotten the city’s name, but I can’t forget the colorful flowers hanging from windows and stoops.

Each morning, the porches and streets are swept clean. Fall leaves are raked up and given as fodder to the cattle. Nothing goes to waste.

We were also able to dip down into Austria, but discovered that everything was closed on Sundays. We ended up looking into windows and wishing we were inside. We saw all the sights where Sound of Music was filmed such as the Mirabelle Garden and the church and graveyard where they escaped after their stage show. The theater is still going strong, but it, too, was closed.

Mirabell Palace

On our way to Frankfurt and our flight home, we stopped in a small village called Rüdesheim am Rhein along the Rhein River. It was October Fest and the place was Rocking! We stayed overnight and got very little sleep. I will always remember how clean, green and beautiful Germany was.

Rüdesheim

Germany has become a favorite place to visit. Its marbled history has created a strong and independent people who are eager to show the world a different face. Since that first trip, I’ve read many books both historical and fictional about this wonderful and exciting place.

Someone asked me the other day what was on my “bucket list,” and I told them I didn’t have one. Reading Oliver Potzsch’s book about early Germany has made me want to return, just one more time!

“Frankfurt”