<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[My Site 1]]></title><description><![CDATA[My Site 1]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/blog</link><generator>RSS for Node</generator><lastBuildDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 20:38:14 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://www.ronbrackin.online/blog-feed.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title><![CDATA[Yea, God!]]></title><description><![CDATA[In 1984, while I was working on Capitol Hill, Annie and I had an opportunity to buy a new townhouse. We’d never owned a home before, and it was a pretty heady experience for us. It was in a new single-family home development and, in addition to all the new houses, the county required the builder to include thirteen low-income townhouses for people just getting started. Back then, “low-income” was a step up for me. I made so little as a congressional press secretary that I had to ask the...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/yea-god</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2a5296b2d71ad74fee8e00</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 06:34:43 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_82638e836fc04531aab1dbe3cda36130~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_589,h_472,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Capitol Hill]]></title><description><![CDATA[Not long after I surrendered my life to Jesus, I co-founded a small offset print shop. My partner was a fourth-generation printer, and I handled sales and promotion … though I wasn’t particularly good at it. In 1984, I got a call from a friend from church who said she felt the Lord had told her to contact me about a job that had opened in her office. She was the receptionist for a U.S. congressman. It sounded so much like Holy Spirit and so little like me that I scheduled an appointment. As I...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/capitol-hill</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2a4b6bf8e7e84c72c18a9d</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 06:01:46 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_a2b5787e577f42ed9d922084fc24e336~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Love of my life]]></title><description><![CDATA[My new home when I became a Christ-follower was a church called Laurel Christian Fellowship, in Maryland. It was one of twenty-five sister churches, pastored by former “Jesus People”— disenchanted counterculture youth, hippies and outcasts who burned for Jesus back in the late 60s and early 70s and who were still blazing. The flame had been lit in me at an IHOP, and the Jesus People, now in coats and ties, kept me burning brighter and  brighter. At the same time, we were about as politically...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/love-of-my-life</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2a40eab2d71ad74fee6700</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 05:43:37 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_46c55b4abd084337b5efce264a7955f3~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_495,h_271,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Head over heels]]></title><description><![CDATA[The Holy Spirit used a T-shirt to lead me into his kingdom. I was into the anti-vivisection movement back in 1980, mostly protesting against labs that abused animals for scientific research. And I had just had a couple T-shirts designed to sell to like-minded folks. One day, in April 1980, I went to talk to my friend who had designed the shirts. He was in the darkroom, developing some film. I talked about Edgar Cayce and my occult stuff, and he talked about Jesus. I remember standing in my...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/head-over-heels</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2a16e18ae4d2c74dd148f7</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 02:18:48 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_2a78bea7de8c4e28a5d9961d838ba1da~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Otherwise en-caged]]></title><description><![CDATA[In 1980, while I was working in the newsroom at WTOP, the CBS all-news radio station in Washington, D.C., I got the opportunity to serve as a volunteer animal keeper at the National Zoological Park at the Smithsonian Institution. I loved it! Among other things, I was responsible for feeding all the small mammals. That meant I had to walk under Ham’s cage, which hung over the stairs that led to the basement kitchen. Ham was pretty famous. On January 31, 1961, he had blasted into outer space...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/otherwise-en-caged</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2a1493b34d9652f5556c3e</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 02:00:04 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_520ac90c467d494fb659bba49ea572be~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_697,h_739,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Me at sea]]></title><description><![CDATA[In the Navy, I served aboard a WWII minesweeper , the U.S.S. Avenge, MSO 423 (172 feet long, with an 80-man crew and a maximum speed of 14 knots, aka 16 mph). Minesweepers were the only all-wooden, ocean-going ships in the Navy. They were made of wood to enable us to sweep magnetic mines without becoming dust and debris. They’re all at the bottom now. Phased out, not blown bits. I was what they called a “deck ape.” They said I’d be a radioman when I left boot camp, but the ship already had...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/me-at-sea</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2a12abf8e7e84c72c107b3</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 01:50:00 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_f37d8507f0d44dc7b7951f16b246f09c~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_515,h_274,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[The world really seemed like a stage            for a while!]]></title><description><![CDATA[The theatre was a big part of my life for years. My folks took me to a children’s theatre in 1958, and I raved about it so much on the way home that they signed me up there to take classes in acting, makeup, set design, etc. I continued in theatre through high school and became a drama major in college. In 1971, I went to Hollywood to be a nightclub comic—playing wherever they used freebees. One of those clubs was Knopow’s Comedy Room, on the Sunset Strip. Cheech &#38; Chong were there too,...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/the-world-really-seemed-like-a-stage-for-a-while</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2a104af8e7e84c72c10257</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 01:42:04 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_a2a6295dce904e4da8968e40150fc871~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_679,h_327,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[What a hoot!]]></title><description><![CDATA[The folk music craze was hot in the early 60s. And a bunch of us used to hang out in a downtown Cleveland coffee house called La Cave de Cafe. We got there early to grab a front table and stayed late to talk with performers—folks like Bud &#38; Travis, Jose Feliciano, Bob Gibson and Ian &#38; Sylvia. Every Wednesday night, there was a Hootenannie, an informal folk music jam session, where everybody brought their axe. In those days, I was part of a trio that played wherever we could get a gig. Once,...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/what-a-hoot</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a2a0d7fb2d71ad74fedee0e</guid><pubDate>Thu, 11 Jun 2026 01:26:46 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_873cb684355c4fe99d1015ef94c5cc46~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[My favorite uncle, yup.]]></title><description><![CDATA[I’m an only child. My mother had a sister and my father had a brother. Small family. But a cool one. I had a great uncle Charlie, who had been a cowboy, gold miner and a deputy sheriff and who knew Pat Garrett who shot Billy the Kid. Uncle Charlie told me stories about the old West and taught me how to spin a rope. And he gave me a raw gold nugget. WhenI asked him about his six-guns, he said he buried them at Boot Hill. I doubt it, but the West was filled with wonderful tall tales—as were the...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/my-favorite-uncle-yup</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a29f57ab34d9652f5552334</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Jun 2026 23:56:38 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_16d9959150584031907fef73ba8c43d9~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_259,h_155,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Chocolate fingers]]></title><description><![CDATA[My dad was a firefighter for 26 years. He was also an entrepreneur. And among other income-enhancing businesses, he started a candy business out of our basement. He bought an industrial tempering machine that melted down fifty-pound boxes of chocolate. The machine melted each 10-pound chocolate bar, my mom poured it out of the machine onto a marble slab and mixed in peanuts, cocoanut or Rice Krispies. Then, she laid out the candies on wax paper, spread over masonite trays that slid into...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/chocolate-fingers</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a29f26b8ae4d2c74dd0f099</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Jun 2026 23:36:24 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_dfe3a714c4364d2b8c435748b72c08d2~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Born to eat turkey]]></title><description><![CDATA[Weighing in at 9 pounds, 9 ounces and 20 inches long, I arrived at Fairview Park Hospital in Cleveland, Ohio on a snowy Thanksgiving night in 1945. I was two weeks late. I cost $31.09, which included a $27.50 delivery charge, $1.25 for medicine, a dollar phone bill, 34 cents sales tax and a buck for my blue bead bracelet. Don’t know that about anybody else, now, do you?]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/born-to-eat-turkey</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a29f1b1b34d9652f5551941</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Jun 2026 23:24:46 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_ef4dd06a03aa4d3bbee9889bbcb72164~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Me &#38; Dr. Sam]]></title><description><![CDATA[I nearly cut my foot off when I was 8 years old. I was playing with a friend and put my foot through a basement window, severing my Achilles Tendon. Dr. Sam Sheppard rebuilt everything the way it was supposed to be, and I don’t even walk with a limp today. My folks were friends of the Shepherds. The following summer, Dr. Sheppard was arrested. He was charged with murdering his wife and unborn baby. The whole world followed every step of that trial. There was nothing like it … until  the trial...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/me-dr-sam</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a29f023b2d71ad74feda8c6</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Jun 2026 23:21:20 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_76538664c0ef4f78859ec7dab7d8a8d3~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Which came first?]]></title><description><![CDATA[Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Who cares? Nevertheless, the question seems to have been bugging an awful lot of scientists and philosophers for an awfully long time. So, here y’go, Mankind … ready? The chicken came first! Think about it. Because time exists, it had to be preceded by non-time, because time, like everything else in existence, has an opposite, even if the opposite is on the other side of existence. There has to be nothing before there can be something. They’re...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/which-came-first</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a29d196b34d9652f554d2be</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Jun 2026 22:15:28 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_a8f379db93b3430c8d05b649a128b6fc~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[Writer's block]]></title><description><![CDATA[One kind of writer’s block is two writers left alone together. “How’s the book coming?” “Good. How about yours?” “Good, thanks.” The conversation thus ended, they look around, study the floor, ceiling or walls, jot down a few notes or doodle. The other kind of writer’s block is when a writer runs out of steam part way through whatever he’s writing—or worse, loses interest in it. I get writer’s block now and then. Everything has been going along swimmingly, when one day I find myself at the...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/writer-s-block</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a29adf4b34d9652f55481e0</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Jun 2026 18:44:58 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_78d9541c27e84f3599278d18f0fb638b~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[It doesn't have to rhyme]]></title><description><![CDATA[Poetry is a unique art form. A single word can be a poem. So can the 1.8 million words of the Hindu poem, Mahābhārata. There’s no right or wrong. A poem merely needs to express what we need to express. Somebody read one of my poems once and said it enabled her to exhale. That pleased me, because it had blessed her. But it neither validated nor invalidated what I had written. Once, I was thinking about how insignificant I am--just contemplating reality, not feeling sorry for myself. And God...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/it-doesn-t-have-to-rhyme</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a29a30a8ae4d2c74dd03d1d</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Jun 2026 18:29:12 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_537e85de565b4b2d8f97af03381bdd53~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item><item><title><![CDATA[SHERLOCK HOLMES                         The Adventure of the Deadly Illusion]]></title><description><![CDATA[Sherlock Holmes was born in an eye clinic in 1891. No patients ever showed up, so, while he sat in the empty clinic, the ophthalmologist—Dr. Arthur Conan Doyle—started writing stories to pay the rent. And the world embraced the first consulting detective. But despite the success of the original Sherlock Holmes stories (today among the most adapted and published literary works in history), Doyle always felt that they stifled his serious literary work, such as his epic historical fiction, which...]]></description><link>https://www.ronbrackin.online/post/sherlock-holmes-the-adventure-of-the-deadly-illusion</link><guid isPermaLink="false">6a299fa0b2d71ad74fecf432</guid><pubDate>Wed, 10 Jun 2026 17:45:46 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://static.wixstatic.com/media/94a419_299df7ff72bc48f29e8cece9cde9b5cd~mv2.png/v1/fit/w_1000,h_1000,al_c,q_80/file.png" length="0" type="image/png"/><dc:creator>Ron Brackin</dc:creator></item></channel></rss>