Dear @WhiteHouse, my name is Rodney Smith Jr., founder of Raising Men & Women Lawn Care Service in Huntsville, Alabama. Through our 50 Yard Challenge, over 6,000 kids across the country have signed up to mow free lawns for the elderly, disabled, veterans, active-duty military, first responders, and single parents. With America celebrating its 250th birthday this year and me also being born on July 4th, I wanted to humbly ask if a few kids from our program and myself could travel to Washington, D.C. to help mow the White House lawn for this historic celebration.
More than anything, I want these kids to see how a simple act of service something as ordinary as mowing a lawn for someone in need can lead to extraordinary places. What better lesson in community service than showing them that helping others can take them all the way to our nation’s capital? I’d also love to bring my American flag-themed mower in hopes that the President might sign it, so I can later auction it off and donate 100% of the proceeds to a nonprofit supporting veterans. It would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to highlight the importance of service, patriotism, and the impact young people can have when they choose to make a difference. 🇺🇸
@ThrillaRilla369 It is insane. No reward for hard work except more races, bills. I’m tired of busting my ass and barely making it so I can fund illegals, criminals, and everyone else in the world.😡🤬
@ThrillaRilla369 Yes! It is insane. No reward for hard work except more races, bills. I’m tired of busting my ass and barely making it so I can fund illegals, criminals, and everyone else in the world.😡🤬
Your great-grandmother's cast iron skillet from Erie, Pennsylvania, weighed four pounds, cost a dollar fifty in 1942, and is still on a stove somewhere in 2026 cooking the same eggs it was cooking when Roosevelt was in the White House. The seasoning is the polymerised record of every breakfast it ever met. The pan will outlive you and probably your grandchildren.
The Teflon pan that replaced it is coated with polytetrafluoroethylene, a member of the PFAS family known to science as forever chemicals. A single scratch on the surface releases approximately nine thousand plastic particles into your food, per a Flinders University study. Heat it above 500°F and it gives off fumes capable of killing a parakeet on the kitchen counter and inducing polymer fume fever in the cook. The coating fails inside eighteen months. The pan goes to landfill, where the chemistry persists for approximately a thousand years.
Cost of the cast iron, amortised across a hundred and forty years of service: about a penny a year.
Cost of the Teflon pan, plus the cancers, plus the landfill: incalculable.
The skillet is at a yard sale in Wisconsin for nine dollars.
Iron leaches into the food. The food carries the iron into the cook. The cook carries it for the rest of her life.
The Teflon pan leaches something else. It also stays with you.
Choose your isotope.
Doctor: "Your LDL is still high. I'm adding a second statin."
Patient: "I'm already on one. My legs ache."
Doctor: "That's a known side effect. I'll add CoQ10."
Patient: "And I'm tired all the time."
Doctor: "Fatigue is common. I'll add modafinil."
Patient: "My memory is foggy."
Doctor: "Cognitive effects can occur. Donepezil should help."
Patient: "I have a cough now."
Doctor: "That'll be the ACE inhibitor I prescribed last visit. We'll swap it for an ARB."
Patient: "I'm not sleeping."
Doctor: "Zopiclone."
Patient: "Heard that's addictive."
Doctor: "We'll taper you with mirtazapine when the time comes."
Patient: "My blood sugar has gone up."
Doctor: "Statins can do that. Metformin."
Patient: "I get diarrhoea on metformin."
Doctor: "Loperamide."
Patient: "I've gained weight."
Doctor: "Ozempic."
Patient: "I feel nauseous."
Doctor: "Ondansetron."
Patient: "I don't want to be on twelve medications."
Doctor: "Anxiety is common at this stage. I'll add sertraline."
Patient: "What if I just stopped the statin?"
Doctor: "Absolutely not."
THE MOST DANGEROUS THINGS IN THE WORLD:
1. A poor man with nothing to lose
2. A smart woman who knows her worth
3. A quiet person who finally speaks up
4. A child who grows up without love
5. A leader without accountability
6. A generation that stops reading
7. A people who forget their history
8. A nation that sells its own future
9. A young mind that has been told it is worthless
10. A truth that powerful people are trying to hide
11. A united poor people who finally realize their power
12. A broken system that punishes the honest and rewards the corrupt
13. A educated person who chooses to stay silent
14. A religion used as a tool to divide instead of unite
15. A mother who has watched her children suffer and has had enough
15 things children teach us:
1. Curiosity,asking about everything without embarrassment
2. Living completely in the present moment without apology
3. Forgiving quickly and not keeping score
4. Laughing loudly at the smallest and silliest things
5. Playing without purpose, outcome, or productivity in mind
6. Trusting freely before the world teaches you otherwise
7. Crying without shame and moving on without drama
8. Loving people unconditionally and without hidden terms
9. Being honest even when it is wildly inconvenient
10. Resting without guilt the moment the body asks for it
11. Starting over immediately after failing without long analysis
12. Making friends in five minutes with almost anyone
13. Dancing whenever music plays without checking who is watching
14. Showing affection openly and without self-consciousness
15. Reminding us that we were all once this free and could be again
Let's check in on Beatrice.
Beatrice is a four-year-old Light Sussex hen in the back garden of a retired widower in a Yorkshire village. She arrived three years ago with three other hens, brought by his daughter to "give him something to look after." It worked. He talks to them. He pretends, to himself, that he doesn't.
Beatrice has been busy this morning.
5.42am. Beatrice exits the coop first. She is always first. The other three hens, by long arrangement, wait. The arrangement was not agreed in writing. The arrangement is, by every working measure, in force.
5.51am. Beatrice locates a slug on the lower lavender. She eats the slug. The label on a supermarket egg box would describe Beatrice as "vegetarian-fed." Beatrice has not read the label. The slug, by 5.52am, is no longer the slug.
6.18am. Beatrice eats a worm turned up by the man's spade in the vegetable bed. The man is digging the bed because Beatrice has, by long observation, taught him that digging the bed at 6.15am produces worms, which produces hens nearby, which produces a small social arrangement that the man has come to look forward to.
7.04am. Beatrice eats a beetle. She eats it with the considered focus of a hen who knows that beetle protein is, by every measure, the highest-quality protein available to her, and that the beetles do not, on the whole, last long once identified.
8.30am. Beatrice lays an egg. The egg weighs 64 grams. It contains, by every available analysis: a complete amino acid profile, choline, lutein, zeaxanthin, B12, vitamin D, vitamin A, selenium, iodine, and cholesterol of the kind that the human body, contrary to forty years of dietary advice, regulates by itself. The egg is, by every honest nutritional measure, one of the most complete single foods on earth. The man eats it for breakfast at 8.45am.
10.00am. Beatrice eats the man's vegetable peelings. Carrot tops. Cabbage stalk. The end of a leek. A small piece of stale bread. This is, in industrial poultry terms, an unauthorised diet. In actual hen terms, it is the diet hens evolved on for several thousand years before anyone thought to feed them only one thing.
11.30am. Beatrice kills a rat. It is the second rat she has killed this year. She does not eat the rat (rats are too large) but she does, with great commitment, prevent it from getting near the feed. Beatrice is, by quiet local agreement, the most effective pest-control system in the village.
1.15pm. Beatrice naps in a dust bath of her own construction. The dust bath has been positioned, by Beatrice, in the precise spot in the garden that gets afternoon sun for the longest. She did not ask the man's permission. She did not need to.
3.40pm. The man, in the kitchen, calls her name.
Beatrice comes.
She does not come for the daughter. She does not come for the postman. She comes for the man.
Things Beatrice has, in one ordinary day, debunked:
That hens are vegetarian. They are not. They are obligate omnivores, and the supermarket "vegetarian-fed" label is, by every honest reading, a deficiency diet sold at premium prices.
That eggs are bad for you. Forty years of dietary advice, substantially walked back since 2015. Eggs are now, in most modern guidelines, considered one of the most nutrient-dense foods available.
That chicken farming is, by definition, cruel. Industrial poultry, in many cases, is. Beatrice's life is not. The honest argument targets the system, not the species.
That backyard hens spread disease. The disease vector data points overwhelmingly at intensive operations. Beatrice's three companions and the half a million UK households who keep small flocks are not the problem.
That eggs are a luxury. The man pays approximately £15 a year per hen in feed. He gets, in return, around 280 eggs, two dead rats, a worked vegetable bed, a dust bath in the right spot, and a small quiet relationship with a creature who comes when he calls.
Beatrice is, by every honest measure, the smallest unit of working agriculture in Britain.
She is also, by quiet local consensus, the reason the man still cooks a proper breakfast.
Eat the egg.
Be the hen.
Resource the backyard.