According to his website, emerysmith.net, Emery Smith was born in 1972 in the state of New Jersey. At around the age of 8, his family moved to Fort Myers, Florida. It was there that Emery Smith achieved many things. At the age of 10, he was named the sharpest shooter by the Lee County Sheriff's department and kept that title until he joined the military. He volunteered for the Civil Air Patrol, an auxiliary of the air force at the age of 14. By the age of 16, Emery Smith had obtained his pilot license and was an EMT. He was in the Army ROTC, the Lee County's sheriffs explorers unit and many other advanced training courses.
The following is taken directly from his website in order to understand some of Emery's background and training: "In 1990, Emery became active duty in the USAF and was stationed at Lackland AFB in San Antonio, Texas. From there, he went on to surgical training at Sheppard AFB in Wichita Falls, Texas and then on to England AFB in the 23rd Tactical Fighter Wing, located in Alexandria Louisiana, where he worked as a surgical technologist and surgical first assist. Finally, Emery was transferred to Kirtland AFB in Albuquerque, New Mexico, where he worked on and off base at UNM Hospital as a surgical assist and as a paramedic. He was certified in surgical apprenticeship and also worked as a HAZMAT instructor, EMT, terrorist negotiation coordinator, flight medic specialist, surgical technologist, expert marksman, chemical warfare specialist, biotech warfare specialist and lead DECON response units, among other positions."
With all these skills, Emery was highly sought after by facilities around the world......even underground facilities.
Emery Smith has now come forward about what he witnessed and what he was required to do, and is now carrying the title of a 'whistle blower'.
Emery Smith claims that he has worked on and examined more that 3000 tissue samples. Tissue samples that were not from this world but from extraterrestrials. He says that at first, the samples were small and there was no way to know what it was, but then the samples became larger. Some had weird skin attached, not like human skin and then the samples became more recognizable, like a hand. In one interview he said that when the tissue samples were brought in still warm, he began to get very uneasy about what he was doing.
Emery Smith claims to have worked along side many ET's, that they are here and have been here a long, long time. He also claims that there are medical devices that help the human body cure any disease, even cancer and other ailments. He says some of these devices would make many surgeries no longer necessary. He claims to have invented a free energy device that would put big oil out of business. He and his team met a buyer for this device in a Walmart parking lot, after the store was closed. They all turned off their cell phones and placed them on the ground. When the device was turned on, all the phones automatically turned on along with all the parking lot lights and the lights in the store. The device was transferred and everyone left the parking lot. Within three minutes, the black SUV's had pulled into the area. Emery Smith has a mission and it is to save the planet.
Why would someone with such high credentials risk everything, including his family, to make such outrageous, fantastical claims?
Who would believe this stuff of science fiction craziness?
Since Emery Smith has come forward and released all this information, he has obtained over one million followers/supporters in about a year's time. Does that make him the snake oil salesman or the real deal?
Let's hope he's the real deal.
Tuesday, September 25, 2018
Tuesday, September 18, 2018
Catch The Wind
The picture had hung on the wall for as long as I could remember. I had no idea where it came from, but I spent hours looking at it while listening to the radio, in my favorite chair. Its most likely origin was a calendar at some point. Mother, the calendar art connoisseur.
It was a picture of an old, large sailing vessel. It may have been a merchant ship, or one carrying wayward passengers, but something about it and its huge billowing sails pulled at my heart strings. I would imagine myself standing on the deck, looking out over the raging waves and feel the saltwater and wind sting my face. Certainly, if there are such things as past lives, I was surely a pirate.
The opportunity came again. It had been missed the last time by an unsuspecting change of events. The Sunfish sail boat lessons at one of the public lakes. I was signed up, ready and so excited.
There were only three people in the class. All of us were probably somewhere within 10 years of age with each other. One had a bit of sailing experience, myself and the other lady had zero. We sat attentively and listened to our young instructors, who were in their early 20's. As they began to talk about sailing, being in irons, points of sail and all the different names for all the different parts of the boat, I began to think I had made a big mistake. How could we be expected to remember all those things. As a small wave of panic began to rise somewhere in the depths of my stomach, the other lady spoke up and admitted she had no idea what the instructor had just said. At least I was not completely alone.
After 30-45 minutes of verbal instruction, we were ready to hit the water. I gave a silent prayer of thanks for the life jacket.
We assembled our sails, attached the rudder and the dagger board and pointed our small crafts to the wind. Remembering to always keep hold of the tiller, we set out across the open water. The wind had diminished to nearly nothing, but it was just enough to give hands on meaning to what we had just been told.
There was one bit of information that I did know about taking this class because I had watched someone, a year ago, learn to sail. Each student was required to upright the sailboat in the middle of the lake. This is sort of like why people want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, why tip the ship if it is just fine and upright in the water to start with. I had prepared for this though, I had started lifting weights several weeks earlier and I felt like Hulk Hogan.
Tipping my sailboat over did not go quite as planned. I was to stand on the deck, grab the mast and fall backwards. It seemed simple enough, but the sail was on my side of the mast and when I leaned back to fall into the water, the sail slipped off the mast and I went in all by myself. When I bobbed back up like a freshly shot cork out of a champagne bottle, the young instructors, giggling in their kayaks, asked if I was OK. I assured them I was, even though both ears were completely full of water and they told me to go catch my boat. I was soon to discover that my leisurely breast stroke in the swimming pool was not a match for my drifting boat. It was necessary to use whatever strength I could muster to swim as fast as I could to catch it. I finally caught up with it and one of the instructors showed mercy on me and turned the sailboat over. I paddled around behind the boat, grabbed hold of the dagger board, put my feet against the bottom of the hull and set the boat upright in one fluid motion. The weight lifting had paid off!
Now, I had to get myself back in to the boat. Even though a Sunfish sailboat is not very wide, maybe 3-4 feet, they are sturdy in the water. The plan was to grab hold of the top of the deck, raise oneself out of the water and fall across the deck, commonly known as the "whale flop". My first attempt was in vain. I could almost get myself up, but it was not enough and I was exhausted. Finally the instructor came over and held one side of the boat. I tried again with no luck. They explained to me to try and get a hold of the edge of the cockpit. I tried again and was able to grab the nearest edge. With much encouragement from both instructors, I grasped and clawed my way around to the far edge of the cockpit. From that point I wallowed my useless flailing legs enough to get a knee on the deck and from there I sprawled across the boat. Both instructors were grinning like Cheshire cats and we agreed that I had just given new meaning to the "whale flop" term.
By this time, all my fear was gone. The wind began to pick up a little and suddenly, the Sunfish sailboat was moving across the water. One instructor called to me to pull in my sail and catch the wind. Catch the wind? I did as I was told, pulled the sail closer to me and then it happened. The sailboat began to pick up speed, the gentle waves lapping the bottom of the hull faster and faster. The boat and I had become one with water and air. It was the most awe inspiring experience I have ever encountered. Perhaps it even held a spiritual aspect... to catch the wind.
It was a picture of an old, large sailing vessel. It may have been a merchant ship, or one carrying wayward passengers, but something about it and its huge billowing sails pulled at my heart strings. I would imagine myself standing on the deck, looking out over the raging waves and feel the saltwater and wind sting my face. Certainly, if there are such things as past lives, I was surely a pirate.
The opportunity came again. It had been missed the last time by an unsuspecting change of events. The Sunfish sail boat lessons at one of the public lakes. I was signed up, ready and so excited.
There were only three people in the class. All of us were probably somewhere within 10 years of age with each other. One had a bit of sailing experience, myself and the other lady had zero. We sat attentively and listened to our young instructors, who were in their early 20's. As they began to talk about sailing, being in irons, points of sail and all the different names for all the different parts of the boat, I began to think I had made a big mistake. How could we be expected to remember all those things. As a small wave of panic began to rise somewhere in the depths of my stomach, the other lady spoke up and admitted she had no idea what the instructor had just said. At least I was not completely alone.
After 30-45 minutes of verbal instruction, we were ready to hit the water. I gave a silent prayer of thanks for the life jacket.
We assembled our sails, attached the rudder and the dagger board and pointed our small crafts to the wind. Remembering to always keep hold of the tiller, we set out across the open water. The wind had diminished to nearly nothing, but it was just enough to give hands on meaning to what we had just been told.
There was one bit of information that I did know about taking this class because I had watched someone, a year ago, learn to sail. Each student was required to upright the sailboat in the middle of the lake. This is sort of like why people want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, why tip the ship if it is just fine and upright in the water to start with. I had prepared for this though, I had started lifting weights several weeks earlier and I felt like Hulk Hogan.
Tipping my sailboat over did not go quite as planned. I was to stand on the deck, grab the mast and fall backwards. It seemed simple enough, but the sail was on my side of the mast and when I leaned back to fall into the water, the sail slipped off the mast and I went in all by myself. When I bobbed back up like a freshly shot cork out of a champagne bottle, the young instructors, giggling in their kayaks, asked if I was OK. I assured them I was, even though both ears were completely full of water and they told me to go catch my boat. I was soon to discover that my leisurely breast stroke in the swimming pool was not a match for my drifting boat. It was necessary to use whatever strength I could muster to swim as fast as I could to catch it. I finally caught up with it and one of the instructors showed mercy on me and turned the sailboat over. I paddled around behind the boat, grabbed hold of the dagger board, put my feet against the bottom of the hull and set the boat upright in one fluid motion. The weight lifting had paid off!
Now, I had to get myself back in to the boat. Even though a Sunfish sailboat is not very wide, maybe 3-4 feet, they are sturdy in the water. The plan was to grab hold of the top of the deck, raise oneself out of the water and fall across the deck, commonly known as the "whale flop". My first attempt was in vain. I could almost get myself up, but it was not enough and I was exhausted. Finally the instructor came over and held one side of the boat. I tried again with no luck. They explained to me to try and get a hold of the edge of the cockpit. I tried again and was able to grab the nearest edge. With much encouragement from both instructors, I grasped and clawed my way around to the far edge of the cockpit. From that point I wallowed my useless flailing legs enough to get a knee on the deck and from there I sprawled across the boat. Both instructors were grinning like Cheshire cats and we agreed that I had just given new meaning to the "whale flop" term.
By this time, all my fear was gone. The wind began to pick up a little and suddenly, the Sunfish sailboat was moving across the water. One instructor called to me to pull in my sail and catch the wind. Catch the wind? I did as I was told, pulled the sail closer to me and then it happened. The sailboat began to pick up speed, the gentle waves lapping the bottom of the hull faster and faster. The boat and I had become one with water and air. It was the most awe inspiring experience I have ever encountered. Perhaps it even held a spiritual aspect... to catch the wind.
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
No Turning Back
The passengers were gathering at gate C in the airport terminal. It was the usual 'hurry up and wait' routine and now there was plenty of time to wait. The airport is the perfect place to see what all of humanity looks like, there are faces there from all over the world.
Airports are fascinating places. So much activity, so many people and twice as much luggage and somehow, for the most part, everyone and everything gets to where it's supposed to be. If someone did not get the chance to eat before arriving, there are plenty of neat little restaurants to satisfy and there is never a shortage of shops for that last minute souvenir.
Usually, the gate areas have huge glass windows that allow viewing the real airport action. Watching a 747 taxi out, fire up the engines and then scream down the runway and lift off the earth in one fluid motion is a sight that never gets old.
There were few who watched, except for the beautiful little blonde haired, blue-eyed girl who was just a toddler. The rest were heads down, looking at their phones. If they were not looking at their phones, they were asleep.
Even when the plane was in the air, few bothered to look out the window. Perhaps it was fear that kept them from seeing the magnificence of the planet. The scenery below, that unfolds like a magic carpet, with designs, patterns, colors and textures did not seem to interest them. So many missed watching the southwest desert turn into the rich green of the Mississippi valley and the rolling mountainous hills of the east coast. They chose instead to text, watch a movie or play a game. One young lady must have had the best phone battery in the world, she never put her phone down for 3 1/2 hours and still had juice left when the plane landed at its destination.
Technology has taken over a human beings' life. All eyes are glued to a glowing screen for constant and immediate gratification and there is no going back. But, without it, it would not be possible to travel from one side of the country to the other, in just a few hours and experience the raw beauty of our home, planet Earth.
Airports are fascinating places. So much activity, so many people and twice as much luggage and somehow, for the most part, everyone and everything gets to where it's supposed to be. If someone did not get the chance to eat before arriving, there are plenty of neat little restaurants to satisfy and there is never a shortage of shops for that last minute souvenir.
Usually, the gate areas have huge glass windows that allow viewing the real airport action. Watching a 747 taxi out, fire up the engines and then scream down the runway and lift off the earth in one fluid motion is a sight that never gets old.
There were few who watched, except for the beautiful little blonde haired, blue-eyed girl who was just a toddler. The rest were heads down, looking at their phones. If they were not looking at their phones, they were asleep.
Even when the plane was in the air, few bothered to look out the window. Perhaps it was fear that kept them from seeing the magnificence of the planet. The scenery below, that unfolds like a magic carpet, with designs, patterns, colors and textures did not seem to interest them. So many missed watching the southwest desert turn into the rich green of the Mississippi valley and the rolling mountainous hills of the east coast. They chose instead to text, watch a movie or play a game. One young lady must have had the best phone battery in the world, she never put her phone down for 3 1/2 hours and still had juice left when the plane landed at its destination.
Technology has taken over a human beings' life. All eyes are glued to a glowing screen for constant and immediate gratification and there is no going back. But, without it, it would not be possible to travel from one side of the country to the other, in just a few hours and experience the raw beauty of our home, planet Earth.
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
Baby Blue
Once upon a time, a long long time ago, in the land of Pike there lived a little girl. She lived on a beautiful tree lined street. This street was a very happy place because there were many children that lived there.
This little girl loved to play at one house in particular. This house had lots of children living in it. Not only were there lots of children, there were lots of toys. Not only were there lots of toys, there were lots of bicycles. The little girl was fascinated that it seemed as soon as the youngest child learned to walk, they learned to ride a bicycle.
This little girl was nearly 8 years old and had not yet learned to ride a bike. She was a slow learner. She had tried many times, but sadly, was unsuccessful. One day though, at the house with all the children, one of the youngest got a new bicycle. It was just the right size for that child and the visiting little girl marveled at how that child could hop on that small bike and ride down the sidewalk like a bandit.
Suddenly, the little girl had an idea. She asked the child if she could try to ride the small bicycle. The child happily agreed and the little girl climbed onto the bike and realized her idea was right.....both feet touched the ground when she sat on the seat. Somewhere around the 4th or 5th try, the little girl was sailing down the sidewalk on two wheels, her knees nearly up to her ears and all the children cheered her on.
It wasn't long after that, Mother bought me my first bike. It was a dark blue Western Flyer and I thought it was the best looking bike I had ever seen. I do not recall how many miles or years the bicycle served me, but one day I noticed that it was looking kind of rough around the edges. It had had its fair share of bumps, wrecks and the usual wear and tear. I decided a new paint job would make it look new again and proceeded to search for some paint.
I can still see the look on Mother's face when she came out the back door to find me painting, with a brush, my dark blue Western Flyer with the baby blue flat latex paint she had used to paint her kitchen cabinets. Needless to say, she was not nearly as thrilled with my work as I was.
Many years later, in the land of the Carolina's, I decided I wanted a bicycle. This thought turned into a reality just a couple of weeks later. Someone had moved out and left behind a perfectly good bicycle. It was a girls style Schwinn 7 speed and the very best part about it, besides being free, was the color. Baby blue.
The very first time I rode it, as I was sailing down the tree lined golf cart path, the wind in my face, the wheels spinning faster and faster, just for an instant, I was that little girl on that tree lined street, in the land of Pike.
This little girl loved to play at one house in particular. This house had lots of children living in it. Not only were there lots of children, there were lots of toys. Not only were there lots of toys, there were lots of bicycles. The little girl was fascinated that it seemed as soon as the youngest child learned to walk, they learned to ride a bicycle.
This little girl was nearly 8 years old and had not yet learned to ride a bike. She was a slow learner. She had tried many times, but sadly, was unsuccessful. One day though, at the house with all the children, one of the youngest got a new bicycle. It was just the right size for that child and the visiting little girl marveled at how that child could hop on that small bike and ride down the sidewalk like a bandit.
Suddenly, the little girl had an idea. She asked the child if she could try to ride the small bicycle. The child happily agreed and the little girl climbed onto the bike and realized her idea was right.....both feet touched the ground when she sat on the seat. Somewhere around the 4th or 5th try, the little girl was sailing down the sidewalk on two wheels, her knees nearly up to her ears and all the children cheered her on.
It wasn't long after that, Mother bought me my first bike. It was a dark blue Western Flyer and I thought it was the best looking bike I had ever seen. I do not recall how many miles or years the bicycle served me, but one day I noticed that it was looking kind of rough around the edges. It had had its fair share of bumps, wrecks and the usual wear and tear. I decided a new paint job would make it look new again and proceeded to search for some paint.
I can still see the look on Mother's face when she came out the back door to find me painting, with a brush, my dark blue Western Flyer with the baby blue flat latex paint she had used to paint her kitchen cabinets. Needless to say, she was not nearly as thrilled with my work as I was.
Many years later, in the land of the Carolina's, I decided I wanted a bicycle. This thought turned into a reality just a couple of weeks later. Someone had moved out and left behind a perfectly good bicycle. It was a girls style Schwinn 7 speed and the very best part about it, besides being free, was the color. Baby blue.
The very first time I rode it, as I was sailing down the tree lined golf cart path, the wind in my face, the wheels spinning faster and faster, just for an instant, I was that little girl on that tree lined street, in the land of Pike.
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