Well I guess to start of i should say that i am 21 years of age and my Name is Christopher B Atkins but you can call me Chris for short. I am a very active person and I love outdoor sports, I play almost everyone and I like to think I am good and most of them. I am as, old school as it sound, "I am a lover not a fighter". I enjoy to read but must admit I do not read as much as I used to or as I should. I love to kid around alot and that has gotten me into alot of trouble in the past, but i am just a kid inside and I let him come out on occation. For the most part I have been told i am a good guy if you would like to lear me just send me a message and I would be glad to talk with you. I am alwas up for meetting new people.

As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to
ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably
more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so
remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best
friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry
because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you
love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've
never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute
of happiness you'll never get back.

Don't be afraid that your life will end,
be afraid that it will never begin.
~anonymous

"A Minute they say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them, but then an entire life to forget them. Take the time... to live and love."

“The tongue is said to be a powerful tool, like a bit in a horses mouth (manipulative and controlling), like the spark of a fire (spreads), or a ships ruder (Guide away from danger) in bad our good times but always respect the tongue”

"Better to be thought a fool, then open your mouth and prove it"

"Wisdom is more precious then rubies"

"With great power comes great responsibility"

"Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away"

"The real measure of your wealth is how much you'd be worth if you lost all your money."

"But wouldn't it be nice." ~ Amazing Grace Smith

"The family will lose what little remains of its power to transmit values to a younger generation" ~ Future shok, 1970 by Alvin Toffler.

"Parents often talk about the younger generation as if they didn't have anything to do with it" ~ Haim Ginott

"Raising kids is part joy and part guerrilla warfare." ~ Ed Asner

"Don't worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you." ~ Robert Fulghum

"If you don't talk to your kids about the little stuff, they won't talk to you about the big stuff!" ~ Jay McGraw

"You cannot change your ancestors but you can do something about your descendants." ~ Anonymous

In Flanders Fields
By: Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918)
Canadian Army
IN FLANDERS FIELDS the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

A Soldier's Christmas

T'was the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house, made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney, with presents to give,
And to see just who, in this home did live.
And I looked all about, a strange sight I did see.
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the mantle, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures, of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sober thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary.
I found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone
Curled up on the floor, in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I pictured a Canadian soldier.
And was this the hero, of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families, that I saw this night
Owed their lives to these soldiers, who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,
The grown-ups would celebrate, a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month of the year
Because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wonder, how many lay alone
On a cold Christmas eve, in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees, and started to cry.
The soldier awaked and i heard a rough voice,
"Santa, don't cry. This life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more.
My life is my God, my Country, my Corps!"
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still
And we both shivered, from the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave, on that cold dark night,
This guardian of honour, so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
Whispere, "Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all is secure."
One look at my watch and I knew he was right
"Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night."

When You go home, Tell them of us and say:
"For Your Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today"
And at the going down of the sun, and in the morning.
We Will remember them