No Collusion?

No Collusion?

The Republicans on the House Intelligence (oxymoron) Committee has determined there is no evidence of collusion on the part of anyone in the trump campaign–a conclusion they announced with the termination of their investigation.

I’m not an attorney, but I’ve worked with a number of them and it seems to me that this conclusion is premature at best–complicit at worse:

When there is an investigation of anyone to determine any wrong doing, all stones should be looked under to see what may be there. Since there were a number of “witnesses” who refused to answer questions–claiming “attorney-client privilege” when none existed and since the chairman of the Intel committee refused to subpoena them, they did not conduct a thorough investigation. Of course, Devin Nunes has his own reasons for terminating the investigation. The truth was about to reveal his part in the complicity of the Russian meddling.

Here’s the thing, no matter what happens from this point forward–Republicans are not to be trusted in any public office and no one who is sane should ever consider voting for them again.

There has never been as much turmoil and stupidity running rampant in the White House, spilling over to Capitol Hill as there has been since January 21, 2017. Putin’s influence and sway (whatever it is) over trump is costing this country dearly and at this point–no other country or world leader should trust us since we have proven, we can’t be trusted to handle our own domestic affairs.

But we can earn the trust back with upcoming elections. We must elect responsible adults to be in public offices and right now that means–we elect Democrats–who care about all people. We must vote blue in special elections, the midterms in every state and again in 2020–to elect a president who thinks with their brains, not their guts.

Of course, the final verdict about “conspiring against America” has yet to be made and even when Mueller makes it–we cannot count on the Republican-led Congress to do its job and divest themselves of any so-called loyalty to trump. But a flipped House and Senate–Democrats leading–will put America back on track and we will see beneficial change for all.

Who am I that any should believe me? Take a little time and do some research and discover–who I am and where I stand. I am an American with heart, compassion, and a desire to address every need of other Everyday Americans. Right now, I am a LittleKnownEducator, but give me a few months and all of that will change.

My name (remember it well) is Mary M. Hall-Rayford and I approve this message!

Attention voters

benefitsI Am2

Christian Democrat


Deceptive Storms (excerpt 1)

She sat with a glass of wine in her hands, swirling the burgundy liquid slowly, reflecting, contemplating her life.  Taking a luxurious sip, she sighed and wished for more than what she had.  More money, more house, more of a man, more happiness—just more of everything.  Leaning back on the black leather chaise in her living room, she closed her eyes, glass still in hand.  Her thoughts vacillated between what was and how she was going to fast forward.

“If I could just shake the past and move on, I’d be alright,” she thought.  “I just need to shake the past.”

Her past was a multicolored debacle.  One misstep after the other.  She tried hard to think about the last time she had actually done anything right.  She couldn’t remember.  Brain cells only seemed to recall the squirmy situations she had created or fallen into.  Fallen into—with deliberation.  She shook her head at her own recriminations.  Deciding to traipse down memory lane, she focused on the first real love of her life—the love that had left her dangling for years and finally cut off her emotions to the quick.  She had loved the wrong man as so many before her had done, but she just knew—Brian was the only man worthy of her love.  The real tragedy was that Brian was from Loser Street—and just didn’t know how to get off of it.  Appearances can certainly be deceiving.  Hefty and handsome as any movie star, Brian strolled into Charleston Café with his friends, easily the center of attention.

She had seated them at the best table in the house—near a window so they could keep an eye on the object of their discussion—the latest fast car purchased by the racing car company that was based in town.  Sleek, low to the ground, shiny black with yellow pinstripes and the company sponsor listed on the side, it was something to behold.  Apparently, the three men discussing the car thought so, too.  She heard someone say something about the most “horsepower that was legal” and that was as much as she needed to hear.  She really wanted to meet the man behind the smile and the talk.

Standing at their table waiting to take their order, her eyes shifted from one to another.  The other two men were slightly older than the man talking and she could quickly detect that the younger man was trying to convince the other two to do something.  After taking their order, she deliberately brushed against the younger man, knowing he would have to pay attention, but he didn’t.  He moved slightly and kept talking.  After she had placed their drinks on the table, he glanced at her briefly and nodded.  She perceived the nod as recognition and invitation to something later.

When they had finished their meal, the younger man eagerly picked up the check while the older men smiled, shaking each other’s hands, ready to go their separate ways.

“Brian,” she heard one of the men say, “you’ve got yourself a deal.  Come into the office tomorrow and we’ll sign the paperwork.  It’s nice doing business with you.”  They left Brian in the Café.  She had asked if he’d like for her to take the payment to the cashier, but he said no and ordered a cup of coffee.  He leaned back in the chair and openly appraised the woman in front of him.  Heat began to crawl from her toes to her face under his scrutiny, but she smiled as he apparently decided he liked what he saw.

He rose from the table and left her a tip with a note.  A telephone number.  A number that would eventually lead to more heartache than she could have ever imagined.

She had called him after her shift ended and they made plans for dinner and a movie.  The dinner and the movie were good, but his conversation was mesmerizing.  She couldn’t stop listening to him and encouraged him to keep talking.

He was one of eight children, his mother was not very healthy and his dad was a truck driver, always on the road.  When he finished school, he decided that he did not like his life and was determined to recreate himself.  He left the hollow that he had grown up in and went to Texas.  There he attended college, but became more involved with racing than books.  When he discovered that he had a knack for driving fast cars, he quickly adapted by attending the races and eventually got a chance to show what he could do.

He left ten experienced drivers in the dust during his first race.  No one watching understood how he had managed it, but he had easily won the race and a few hundred dollars.  The race itself was addictive, but the money was the jolt that kept him going.  He thought he had finally found his niche in life.  Not only was he good at racing the cars, he was an expert at finding investors to sponsor him in races.  He loved the feel and the smell of the cars, but he loved the stench of the jumpsuits after a race.   More importantly, he loved the attention he got wherever he went.

“Oh yeah,” she remembered, he loved the attention.  In the three years they dated, she could barely keep him focused on their relationship because of all the attention he received by racing.  Every where they went, people wanted to talk to them.  Alone time was seldom, but he seemed to enjoy her company and she was totally lost to him.   Lost—that’s a word she would remember for a long time.

She thought they were on their way to a march down the aisles when she discovered that he was on his way—to another woman.  She didn’t see it coming.  Never had a clue.  The connecting line had been cut and she fell with a clump, thump, and a bump—heartbroken and hell-bent on revenge.

Available on and  Enjoy and review!

Deceptive Storms Excerpt 5

Reverend Jenkins pulled his ego up from the basement and grabbed a jacket.  As he picked up his brief case, he smiled.  “Not yet, not yet,” he thought.  “It will be all right, in good time.”  He whistled a low tune as he headed out the door.  Once in his car, he mentally began practicing a humble posture.  He saw himself, with head bowed, eyes riveted on the pastor, nodding in agreement to whatever was going to be said.  He practiced appearing interested in the pastor’s personal life by determining what kinds of questions he wanted to ask and to feign surprise or interest.  This meeting was important.  He had to make the pastor feel comfortable with him in order to get him where he wanted him—out of the church in disgrace—was his plan.  And he had already figured out how to do it.  With a little bit of help, he would soon be the rightful pastor of Christian Faith Ministries, the way it should have been.

He groaned inwardly when he thought about how he had been cheated with the appointment.  He had been warned when the church joined the ecumenical organization that a church appointment was not automatic, simply because someone had been a member of the church.   He knew that most of the congregation had really enjoyed the ministry of the Recinoire’s; he just didn’t think he had to worry about the appointment.  Wrong.  He had misread the entire situation.  That wouldn’t happen again.  He had plans and nothing was going to get in his way.  “Nothing, nothing, nothing,” he muttered aloud.

Pulling into the parking lot, he took a deep breath, rotated his head and neck to relieve the pressure and prepared to play the role of his life.  He turned off the engine, snatched his brief case off the passenger seat and climbed out of the car.  After locking the doors, he walked confidently into the church, ready to plant the seeds of his plan.


“Come in,” Cal responded to the knock on his door.  Looking up from his notepad, he waited.  When Reverend Jenkins entered, he rose, came around his desk, with extended hand to greet him.

Reverend Jenkins took the extended hand and shook it warmly, clasping Cal’s wrist in the process.  Smiling, he sat in the chair indicated and sat back expectantly.  Cal retreated to his chair behind the desk and sat contemplatively.

“Thanks for getting here so soon,” he began.  “Your message seemed a bit urgent, how can I help you?”

“Well now, Pastor, I didn’t really call you because I needed help.  I called to see how I could help you.  It’s been a pretty busy first year, so I figured, you could use a little more help around here.  I’m at your disposal to do whatever it is you need done,” Reverend Jenkins’ smile stretched across the lower half of his face without reaching his eyes.

“I must admit I’m surprised at your generosity.  You know the rumor-mill has it that you were upset with not getting the position here.”

“I was disappointed.  Now that I’ve had a chance to see what you’ve done in just a short period time, I’m relieved that I was not appointed pastor.  I don’t honestly know if I could have accomplished what you have.  At any rate, I do know about the rumors and I decided that it’s time to put them to rest.  I wanted to make sure that at tonight’s meeting there is no doubt in anyone’s mind about where I stand.  I want to see this church grow into everything God intends for it to be.”

“I appreciate your attitude Reverend Jenkins and I welcome your assistance.  At the moment, I don’t have anything specific in mind, but I’m sure something will surface soon.  We have more than enough to do to keep everyone busy.  Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Well, you know we could stand raising some money around here to develop the surrounding land.  Our young people are pretty talented and I was actually thinking about having them perform a knock-out concert.”

“That’s a splendid idea!” Cal exclaimed.  “I was thinking about something similar.”

“Wonderful!  Perhaps, we should present this idea at the meeting tonight.  You know, in order to prepare a concert the magnitude that I’m thinking about, we’ll need at least a year to get everything in place.”

“That’s fine.  I’ll just add it to my agenda under new business.  I’m glad we had this chance to talk and I look forward to working with you on this.  I’m sure the congregation will be glad to see us on the same page as well.  How’s your son?  Doesn’t he sing with the youth choir?”

“Yeah, Vernon sings with the choir.  He could do a better job with some additional training, but it keeps him involved in the church.  He’d rather play basketball than sing, but I’m working on him.”

“Perhaps, we can utilize him to organize some basketball tournaments.  I’m sure he knows other young men who would be interested in playing.”

“I’m sure he would.  I’ll run that by him when I see him later.  Well, I’ll get going so you can get ready for tonight. Thanks for taking the time to see me.”  He stood and extended his hand, ready to leave.


Cal stood up and shook hands with Reverend Jenkins across his desk.  As Torrance Jenkins walked out the door, Cal felt as though he heard a faint siren.  He went to the window and looked out, but could not see any reason for an emergency.  He stopped and listened again, but heard nothing.  Shaking his head, wondering if he was hearing things, he sat down and took up his notepad.


(Excerpts posted in random order–book available very soon!)