Beech Tree News Network

A fellow said, “I have a tendency to allow my inner discontent to color my attitude toward the people around me.” No doubt we’ve all heard said, “He/she is so contrary they can’t get along with themselves.”
    I read about a man who recognized he was grouchy at times. He built himself what he called his “ground house” on his back lawn. When he felt a grouch coming on, he went out, got into it and stayed until his ground passed.
    Another person said, “To preserve my sense of well-being I must bend over backwards in my dealings with others, to be surprisingly decent. Not in order to feel noble but to feel well.”
    Scientists tell me when we get mad, this causes our brain to release 34 different kinds of harmful toxins into our body. Not good.
    “Anger transfer” is a term that causes people to get mad at the closest person next to us – although the innocent by-stander has nothing to offend.
    Alcohol is usually involved in any alteration between people… anger transfer is where, too many times, some jerk lays around on weekends, swigs beer, and watches his favorite sports game. If his team loses, for no other apparent reason, he is mad, and loaded with alcohol, he beats up his wife and/or kids. Or, the set-to can be between two “good friends”, sometimes ending tragically.
    Statistically, alcohol ranks near the top as the reason for spouse or child abuse.
    Then, for no other reason on earth, because we are humans, our horns pop out through our holes, and we are just plain ornery. I once heard a TV preacher say, “All day I’ve felt like I wanted to slap somebody.”
    What kind of deal is this? Here this person is on TV attempting to tell people to be like Jesus and she comes out with something like that – it was a woman preacher. I’m assuming she hadn’t had anything to drink; I must hasten to say I have nothing against women preachers.
    “The Juds” had a song called, “Poppa tell me about the good old days.”
    I read about an agriculture worker who spent around several weeks in a California transient camp for homeless agricultural workers. The year was 1934: the early days of the Great Depression. These camps were established by, then, California’s Governor Ralph; to aid fruit and vegetable pickers between jobs.
    “The food was good and plentiful.” The worker said, “there were tubs and showers with plenty of soap – I had a chance to clean-up and rest, and get the wrinkles out of my belly.”
    After a day or so this guy got to notice the men around him; “I began evaluating my fellow tramps. We in camps were a human junk pile: I counted 78 toothless mouths. One little man over 60 looked like a mere boy from behind; when he turned around the shriveled face and the boy’s body made a starling sight.
    One young good-looking man had a wooden leg. Some were missing hands and whole arms. It was as though some machine’s snapping teeth had gobbled parts of them up at one time or another. Some of the men were highly educated. Nearly all were talkative and likable. There was no apparent meanness among the whole lot. There were 50 war veterans (WWI); 80 skilled workers representing 16 trades. All were able to work – the one – armed man was a wizard with a shovel. Of the men in camp there were approximately as follows: Cripples - 30;  confirmed drunkards – 60; men 55 and older – 50; youths under twenty – 10; those with chronic diseases, heart, asthma, TB etc. – 12; mildly insane – 4; bone lazy – 6; fugitives from justice – 4; apparently normal – 70.”
    Obviously these men had not made good, for whatever reason. But to their credit they were still trying – still helping pull the wagon instead of riding.
    Walking down yonder kicking shoepoppers.
    Kindest regards…