The F-Bomb

It was another fabulous day in the Hudson Valley. After all the home work I did, which included fixing computer problems and school work, I headed to visit a friend in Poughkeepsie.

Armed with picnic food and drinks, we headed to a place that I have not been to in years, the Roosevelt estate in Hyde Park.

I have spent much time over the past few months visiting state historic sites, and I encourage you to support such sites when possible financially, whether through tours, festivals they host, or stopping into the gift shop to spend your money (instead of the mall!) We need to support the local history and culture, and for a small fee one has beautiful views and gardens - and you don't even have to mow to lawn to use it. I am fortunate that within a 45 minute range, I can visit seven or more beautiful sites, most with views of the Hudson and mountains.

One photo was taken crossing the Mid Hudson Bridge in Poughkeepsie, and the others taken on the Roosevelt Estate.

Now about the F-bomb.

I am tired of hearing the word "fuck" everywhere I go. I was handing my money to the guy in the tollbooth and he is shouting to someone "I would like to go the f---home too!) I hastily handing him my money and sped off.

I was shopping with my little granddaughter and f-bombs were being dropped everywhere, by young and old alike.

The word is a great word, don't get me wrong. It has impact and meaning in many situations, when no other word will suffice. It has power and sensuality, but is becoming meaningless drivel when used in casual conversation.

So folks, if we wear out the word, what else will we use for impact, and think about how it will sound when our youth shouts joyfully to us, innocent eyes shining in delight....."daddy, mommy, that dinner was fucking great!!"

patti