Friday, March 18, 2016

Dark One Theory

What if DO Emma killing DO Hook wouldn’t have gotten rid of the Dark One curse once and for all like she and the others believed? 
Originally it seemed as if there was no hope and they, along with all of Storybrooke, were going to eventually die at the hands of all those past DOs who had infiltrated the town. That is, until Emma got the bright idea that if she killed Hook with Excalibur, she’d be sending the dark curse away for good, but sadly at the cost of losing her true love. 
Now, we’re all under the seemingly obvious impression that Rumple slyly ‘took back’ the Dark One curse when Emma killed Hook with Excalibur by means of magic from his shop. Unbeknownst to Emma, Rumple poured this magic onto Excalibur when Emma came and presented this plan of killing Hook/destroying the curse to Rumple beforehand. Magic that would immediately draw the darkness right back into him like a magnet as soon as it exits its current human host. ...But what if Rumple knew that her plan would fail and it would only repeat what happened in the finale of 4B when ‘the heroes’ extracted the darkness from Rumple but it all went awry, escaping Rumple’s shop and attacking Regina? 
If that’s the case, and if Rumple hadn’t quickly thought of using this magic to take back the darkness, then there stands a good possibility that when Emma killed Hook, releasing the darkness, that that very darkness would have had its pick of which human host to enter into from our group of heroes standing nearby. A group heroes that also included sweet Henry. 
So why didn’t Rumple just tell Emma all this? A) Emma is already in an emotional, heartbroken state of mind over this entire situation she has created, so for Rumple to crush her last chance and hope of saving everyone and redeeming Hook and herself by telling her that her plan isn’t going to work in the way that she thinks, would be a devastating blow. B) Rumple himself is also heartbroken and in a vulnerable state of mind over the fact that his wife has left him for good. He’s powerless and alone and everyone hates him. In his mind, he literally has nothing to live for pretty much. C) Their only other option to consider is to do nothing and allow all the past DOs to accomplish their nefarious plan. 
Keeping quiet on the matter, Rumple directed the Dark One curse back to himself rather than it go into someone else (like Henry for example), and in essence, killed two birds with one stone. The nightmarish situation in Storybrooke was over and he, once again, had regained power and a purpose in life (albeit a dark, lonely one). ...Why him? Which one of our ‘heroes’ would have stepped up to the plate to take on the darkness? Probably none of them. So it had to be Rumple. He’s the only one who actually knows how to properly handle it anyway.
Following this is a mixture of the usual complications that coincide with taking on a dark curse, namely the curse of the Dark One, and a few very unexpected complications as well...particularly the one where your wife suddenly returns to you and you’re faced once again with the dilemma of ‘to lie or not to lie’. ...This was a complication that Rumple honestly did not foresee. A risky but successful plan turned twisted, comedy of errors. And he only gets dug in deeper when, the following morning, Emma comes to him with a brand new plan of going to the Underworld in order to rescue Hook. 
So why doesn’t Rumple just tell Emma the truth about the curse and what he did for them right then and there? Because A) one of those usual ‘complications’ I mentioned is simply that when you take on the Dark One curse, it kind of turns you into a total douche. Lol. And B) Let’s be honest, is there anyone who actually believes that if Rumple told her he was DO and WHY he became DO (*cough* to save them all *cough*), that she’d sincerely thank him and tell him what a heroic SACRIFICE he made? A sacrifice he’s already reaping the consequences for. .....*crickets*....
Maybe there’s something to this theory, maybe not. Lol. But I just figured there could be some element of plausibility to it. We’ll see in the coming weeks I guess.

Friday, April 25, 2014

The Forest Calls

Had it been hours? It certainly didn't feel like hours. ...Why would it feel like hours had gone by anyway? Was there a significant reason for this?  ...She couldn't remember. With each step, the more she forgot. 

Laughing. Clear, but a ways off. 

Gentle steps, silent steps. The fallen needles from the pines cushioned each footstep she took. She bent to pick up the occasional pine cone, scrutinizing its size and rough edges. She looked up...and up to the tops of the pine trees where the cones once resided. The sun was in her eyes. She couldn't see the tops. With the shield of her palm she blocked the rays of the sun, peering through the gaps of her fingers at the tops of the trees. So still they were. I wonder what I must look like from so far down below... A shadow swept over. The sun had moved on. 

Distinct smells. Signifying the time of day. Was this important? 

Meandering. Arms outstretched...touching, feeling. Flickering catches her eye. Tiny dancing diamonds of light borne from the sun's rays stream down on to the last of summer's leaves. The various shades of brown shimmer and twinkle. She turns her face upward and breathes deep. The air has turned chilly...but I don't feel cold. The sunshine warms my face. Does it warm you, too, trees? The sudden arrival of red followed by a familiar staccato tweet came, as though in reply, to this question. ...She smiles, for she understands his answer.

Three bell tolls. Or was it four? ...Had she actually heard the bell? Perhaps it didn't matter. Perhaps.

It was cold now. The sun was becoming sparse. She sat on a solemn, fallen tree; with fingertips she stroked its moss covered wood pondering how long it had been since the tree, now nature's bench for wanderers such as herself, had stood upright, sun on its tops like the noble pines. ...But wait. What was this distant beckoning she heard? She blinked. For a moment - clarity. She turned to glance at the path she had aimlessly trekked...but there was no path. Honest perplexity washed over her face as she stood, suddenly seeing the engulfment of the wooded wonderland around her. As if in opposition of this abrupt interruption the wind blew. The cold had taken on a bitterness: it kicked up the dead summer leaves and bowed the trees, whose branches creaked and bodies groaned in tantrum against this interference with the visitor's intoxication. ...What was briefly lost was soon rekindled. The wind calmed, but its bitterness remained.

Voices. ...Should they be answered? What is it they're saying?

Dusk. Why is the dusk the most inviting of all? An unseen crow caws in reply. She follows in the direction of its call. Deeper, deeper, and deeper still. Moment by moment the sun disappears down behind the pines. The wind whispers through her hair and rustles lifeless leaves...they detach and fall, now only contributing a silence-shattering crunch with each of her footsteps. She liked the sound of the crunchy blanket beneath her feet that once was summertime's green shade against the sun. ...Hooting. Evening's predator is about.

Voices again. Frantic. ...But why?

A kindly oak, great with age. Tell me all that it is you've seen, Oak. Fires? Frost? Or perhaps the bloody battles of war? She sits at the oak's base and thoughtfully watches its weepy, hanging moss. She reaches her hand up to finger the moss. But it sways lazily away from her grasp in the cold wind. ...A soft chuckle gives form to her breath. 

Darkness. With her head leaned back she closes her eyes and listens. The snap of a branch...the hooting of the owl...the wind in the leaves...the reminiscing of the oak. Resting against its tired but sturdy trunk, she contemplated this lionhearted tree's past. 

Footsteps. But not her own. They come closer, and quickly.

Now numb, the visitor is enveloped in the bitter cold and pulled towards sleep. The songs of evening caress her, the activity of nightlife lull her. A sudden presence. In an instant her eyes open, and beholding a familiar face she, in all contentedness, fixates her eyes on his. Their gaze is held...until the wind picks up once again in defiance to this new intrusion,  breaking the gaze and snapping her to attention. She blinks. The familiar face holds out his hand.

"Please. It's time to go home." He spoke quietly.


Daylight. Crisp and cloudless. The sun shines and spills through the trees. A burst of red swoops in and out of the bare branches, its familiar staccato tweet pitches in excitement. ...There will be a visitor this day.

*A short story, inspired by Anthony J. McGirr

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

I am a homebody...

...I've always been of the belief that a person, such as myself, who is a 'homebody', loves to always be within the comfortable and unintimidating walls of their own home: hence homebody. This is only partly true. I've had a sudden realization that one doesn't necessarily have to be a homebody strictly in one's own household, but rather anywhere where one is relaxed and sensing the freedom to be themselves, having that 'going home' connection with their surroundings. 

Nature, all in itself, is home for me. Particularly the mountains. I don't know why this is, though I'm not complaining, mind you. Simply envisioning myself atop and looking down into the Grand Canyon or standing amidst a sunflower field in the countryside of Romania is enough to bring a wave of calm over me, and an odd sense of contentment envelopes me as though I'm really there. Too bad it's always a daydream. ...Story of my life. 

Just look at the picture of above. Can you just imagine for a moment that being your view out your window? I can. I can't stop myself from doing so. I can literally put myself right there in such a vision of vivid reality it's as if it's really happening. Look at the shadows on the trees and rock walls, or the reflection of the waterfall in the water... This is not something you can easily find in a city or the suburbs. 

Yes. I am a homebody in nature. It is a beautiful feeling.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

God's Creation

I'm not exactly sure why I've always loved this picture. But I do love it. These flowers were blossoming at the very end of a long hanging vine in a tree at my parents' home. The vine itself is ugly and only looks like a jumbled mess up in the tree it's entangled in, but the flowers it produces...they're beautiful. They hang down heavily on the vine and sway around in the breeze, almost weeping willow like. I look forward each year to seeing these flowers bloom. Isn't it so majestic how God can bring forth something so lovely from such an ugly and seemingly useless vine? I think so.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Those insignificant things you found, well, very significant as a child...

That shrill, ear-piercing noise. Then the smell. It's not a bad smell, but a very distinct smell. The smell of burning metal. Rounding the corner to the side of the house, you then see the sparks. Long, lazy orange sparks. They're almost mesmerizing. And finally the mask. That bulky mask with the little square window in front. 

Welding. It's something my father is a master at. He no longer is required to weld but the talent is still there, though my father will protest that he's lost some of his 'touch' as he's grown older. His welding on weekends or after his return home from work are some of my most vivid childhood memories. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because I was not aware of any other father in the surrounding neighborhood who welded...he was the only one, or so it seemed anyway. Or perhaps, as a child, I was merely intrigued by the mask which, in my mind, reminded me of the old metal scuba diving helmets. I recall standing a little too close when watching and being licked by the sparks...I can still picture myself looking down and seeing some of those long orange sparks bouncing onto the toe of my shoe. 

It's a memory I remember as it were yesterday. A very special memory for me. I knew it was something that took great skill, so I usually watched not only out of curiosity but also with pride. Plus, he always smelled like a mechanic afterwards. I loved this then and I love it now. It's odd, I know. But when you hold a love for your dad as I do, you even love him when he's smelling like motor oil. 

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Dear Mr. Unknown...who are you?

  Wait. Scratch that. I don't want to know that information. I'd rather be surprised, which is as it should be. But then again I find I normally hate surprises (yes, I'm kind of a Debbie Downer like that) and in this particular case I feel no different. Though, I imagine it's more of a slow but steady realization rather than a 'surprise'. Yes, this would seem more likely.

There is one thing that I'm almost certain of, and that is that I know you're a 'talker'. This is very good as I am borderline mute myself, though I enjoy and even prefer people who are talkers, which is why I'm convinced that you are blessed with those sociable, conversational skills I so dearly lack. I don't think I'm too far from the truth...after all, opposites attract, right? I believe this theory applies in my case anyway. So besides you being a talker, I haven't the slightest idea what you're like. That is, assuming we've never met, which is highly possible. If we have met, then you're one of only a handful of individuals, and very fine individuals, mind you, that I would even consider. There used to be a few more in that handful, but alas...their own ships have now come in. 

Are you tall? Are you dark, blonde, or an awkward ginger? Do you have a habit of whistling? (For the love and all that is holy, please let it be 'no') ...You know, none of these things really matter in the end, I know this full well. But nobody can help having their own 'preferences', can they? We just can't allow ourselves to get hung up on these stubborn preferences, that's all. Now having 'high standards' is a whole different ball field and very important, too. Everyone should cultivate high standards, and those standards should only ever grow higher, never lower. This may seem unreasonable but it isn't; after all, shouldn't it be everyone's goal in life to aim for integrity and a strong moral character? It should be. And if it is for some, then you shouldn't have too much of a hassle in satisfying those high standards of hers. - Wait. I'm preaching now. Don't mind me, folks.

Everyone loses their patience here and there, but overall we're either a patient person or an impatient person. I personally am very patient. I think it's because I'm generally slower and calmer in all areas, which enables me to be more relaxed, though, in return, I've found that I need patience to be reciprocated. I'm hoping that the character quality of patience will be one that he possesses. I hope, but I don't worry about it. God knows I need a patient man, so there's no need to fret about it. There's a remarkable assurance in knowing that your future and all the little details of your life God has perfectly mapped out. 

It's not that I'm pining away for this unknown Mr. Right, waiting anxiously for him to make his appearance, and readying myself to dive into wedded 'bliss'; I'm simply curious. By no means am I ready for marriage, let alone a relationship, and mainly because I don't want it right now. I could probably think of a hundred different things I'd rather have or be doing instead of diving into a relationship. I suspect this makes me A) a late-bloomer, and B) in the minority. Not all women, but I do believe that many women (especially Christian women) desperately desire to be married and starting a family by the age of 23. This is all perfectly fine, but I feel it is not for me. I observe these young women and think, "Good for them.....but I would rather be hiking a mountain in Alaska." Then after having this thought, my own ideas of what I want are instantly shot down by remembering that I'm no longer 'my own'. I belong to Christ. And it's 'His will be done', not mine.

It just seems I've become more and more settled in my private nature by each year that it really does make me begin to wonder: who the heck will be that special one to penetrate through my firewall of privacy and successfully awaken my feelings? This is the question that orbits my brain continuously. It's not an obsessive thought. Not in the least. It's merely puzzling, and thus, as introversion goes, must be mentally chewed on...and chewed on...and chewed on some more.

So there's the question of 'who', but now we have  the question of 'how': I know there's a 'how' when God is control, but in my own worthless worm of a humanly mind I can't understand how there could even be such a man living on earth as I write this. I mean, come on now, let's sit back and consider my prospects amongst my generation. ...As you can see, the results are bleak. Very bleak. In fact, I can almost guarantee you and I are now of the same mind about this. But again! I believe with all my heart God is in control and do trust Him to guide me towards 'the one' He intends for me.

But ooooh the bleakness. Actually I'll call it a pea-souper. A giant pea-souper of boys in skinny jeans and who have more styling gel in their hair than they do a single intelligent and original thought. A generation of boys (girls included!) whose 'personal' views and convictions ultimately have originated from highly credible sources such as: their peers, their humanistic minded schoolteachers, celebrities, and my personal favorite - the media. When did it become obsolete to respectfully listen to the views of others and then later on use your own brain to do your own research into the facts in order to gather a truly 'personal' stance? Yes, boys. You, silly, silly boys. When you grow up, then come talk to me. It's a rarity for me to come across one of you that's matured into a real man. In fact, I'm more man than you are. But you know what? As long as I hold fast to my faith in Christ, I still have hope, and peace along with it. I am reminded of a recent encounter in an elevator with a stranger I had. This stranger was...oh...perhaps sixteen. This brief and seemingly random meet resulted in me with restored hope in my generation's 'men'. This teenage boy, dressed in his baseball uniform, cap, and cleats, exhibited more characteristics of a grown gentleman than probably 90 percent of any man my own age that I come in contact with. I walked away from that elevator ride completely touched and wanting to shake the hands of his parents. Maybe this was God's mysterious way of lifting my spirits on the matter. It's certainly possible.

I feel as though I've gone off on a tangent. I did not intend this blog post to turn so negative; though, I'm actually not being negative. Nor am I a hater. Or an angry, bitter-munchkin. I'm just a realist. So relax. 

Look, in a way I've been spoiled. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. What I mean is, I've been raised by a real 'man'. A wonderful man. A quiet, hardworking, Godly man. I've grown up observing such character qualities in him that I find beyond exceptional. Qualities that all should strive for, even myself. So why shouldn't I have high standards and desire a Godly man with exceptional character qualities? I don't think I should desire anything less. And I won't. 

I suppose I should wrap this up already. I've 'trailed-off' too much. But then again, this is only a blog, and these words are only my internal musings on one particular area of my life. It's easy for me to get distracted by my thoughts, which normally result in actions such as putting dirty clothes in the garbage instead of the laundry hamper. This is what happens when there is an ever constant monologue running through your mind. 

So. Let me just say before ending this that, all in all I look forward to knowing you, Mr. Unknown. Heck, maybe it'll even be you alongside me when I finally get to hike that mountain in Alaska. Now this would definitely be a surprise...and a pleasant one at that.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Homemade Hot Chocolate - or 'Cocoa' if You Prefer

I recently had an abnormal, summertime hankering for hot chocolate. I went rummaging through the pantry and cupboards for one of those packets of powdery hot chocolate stuff, but I found none (Thank goodness!). Undeterred, I decided to whip up some hot chocolate from scratch, - and for the very first time in my life. Amazingly it turned out to be quite a success, so much a success I've decided to share it on my humble blog. 

Random fact: The correct term in Russia when ordering such a beverage is ' hot cocoa' (or cacao). Don't mistakenly use the term hot 'chocolate', for that's precisely what you will receive. Chocolate, all by itself, melted in a cup. So if ever you find yourself in Russia and desire this delightful drink, be clear on what you're ordering. 

Homemade Hot Chocolate

  • 1 1/2 -2 tablespoons of *organic cocoa powder
  • 2 cups of raw or organic whole milk
  • 2 tablespoons of water
  • 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
  • 1 tablespoon of fresh coffee
  • pinch of cayenne pepper
  • 2 teaspoons of *organic coconut oil
  • 1 1/2 - 2 cups of sugar (everyone is different, so if you need even more than 2 cups, that's perfectly fine)

For those who love mint: Adding 1 teaspoon of peppermint extract is delicious. A great way to make a cup of hot chocolate at Christmastime even more delightful.

-On either stove top or in the microwave (which ever you prefer) heat up your milk until it is hot. In a medium saucepan heat your water, coffee, vanilla, coconut oil, cayenne pepper, and cocoa powder over medium heat for 1 to 2 minutes; whisking occasionally to make sure it is mixed well. Once your 1 to 2 minutes are up, slowly add in your hot milk, stirring as you pour it in. Let mixture heat over medium to high heat for 2 minutes, stirring occasionally. Then add in your sugar, stirring it in well. Allow hot chocolate to heat for at least 5 more minutes, and then it's finished. Enjoy.

*I personally try to be as organic as possible, so my using organic ingredients is my own preference. I encourage and recommend that you use organic ingredients, but certainly it is optional. 

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Dear Tony


   I think I'm going to have to make this up as I go along. It'll be just as much from the heart as if it suddenly dawned on me and I penned it down like a ready writer, but not as polished. I find I'm better at 'winging it', so to speak. The one and only other time I had to write anything down from the heart was when I had to write my high school graduation speech. It took me days...but I eventually came up with something decent. However, it was all for naught because in the end I left my 'speech' at home and had to come up with something brand new off the top of head in the time it took me to unglue myself from my seat and make my way to the podium. I'm quite certain that that was the worst case of nerves I've ever experienced in my life so far. In fact, I was so nervous that I cannot even recall the first half of my speech. But as I stood there in front of everyone ogling me as if I were on display, my gaze became fixated on my Mom's like a magnet. She was seated on the front row smiling and nodding, and instructing with her eyes for me to keep looking at her and her only. So I did. ...Do you know I often reflect on that and get a kind of warm feeling inside, almost as if I feel I'm still a kid with my grand sense of security. 

   So. As I approached midway into my nonsensical ramblings of Lord knows what, I got a sudden wave of calm confidence. Out of the blue. Only, I suspect it most likely was not out of the blue but rather from the Lord and my awesome mother. I mean, seriously, I was dying up there and was in desperate need of divine intervention. Once I received the confidence I needed I was in 'the zone'. My ramblings turned into an actual speech, and a speech off the top of my head no less. I had people crying. I had people roaring with laughter. I went from zero to hero in the blink of an eye. And let me tell you, - that never happens to me.

   I know you're reading this, Tony, and thinking, What does this have to do with anything? ...I don't know yet. Remember the part where I'm winging this? Yeah. But hey, it's from the heart. Truly, it is. So hush and bear with me here.

   Maybe I'm remembering this particular episode in my life because of the role my mother played. She was there for me. She was there to catch me when I fell. She was there to silently coax me on. That has given me a brief but profound experience of feeling completely alone and at a loss (well, for words anyway; but that's a serious dilemma for an introvert, mind you), and yet at that very desperate moment you need it most, there's that safety net. A safety net comes in all forms. In my own experience, it was my mother's gaze. 

   Recalling this moment in my life makes me grateful for the safety net I have in my mother, but at the same time I now have a better understanding of how your own life has been lacking in 'safety nets'. To be perfectly honest, I don't believe I ever considered how my own life impacted anyone else's life. Perhaps I didn't think there was any significant impact at all or that it even mattered to begin with. But knowing you has changed that. God brings people into our lives for a reason, so I know you and I were meant to know each other and to be friends. Like my mother was for me, perhaps I've played a similar role in your life. I think this is evident. ...And in return you've shown me just how much of an obstinate butthead I can be, and have been towards you. You might find that ugly, and it is ugly...but it was necessary. I know this now. I am an intolerant person; stern and quick to dismiss. You, unwittingly, showed me just how much I have sadly exceeded the limit of these character qualities. Thank you.

   I'd like to hope that I've been the friend and Sister in Christ who builds up, who is edifying, who is always there to encourage you in righteousness that I should be. I know that I wasn't so much in the beginnings of our friendship due to my unconscious refusal to soften my heart towards you and your 'baggage'. For this I am sorry. 

   The time is now and I no longer see any 'baggage' in your life but only a mere 'carry-on'. It's not only been quite an experience journeying with you to this point, but I can now say it's been a joy. I'm blessed to have had a front row seat in watching you grow so much in all areas of your life. Whether or not God has used me in such a way as a 'safety net' in your life, I really don't know, but I do know that I would like to be one for you. God has used you to teach me the value of putting away indifference towards others, so now I'm going to put that lesson into effect. ...And you have no say in the matter. Because after all, I'm an obstinate butthead. So there. 

   Forever and Always,

Thursday, February 7, 2013

God's Creation

Lone Shell

Taken during a day spent down in Sanibel Island, Florida. I chose this shell specifically because I loved the pink and grey color scheme. ...Sanibel Island is one of the top shelling places to visit if you enjoy collecting shells. The seashells, all types, are in abundance and just waiting to be picked up and scrutinized. Even the most crabby (don't mind the pun) of beach haters wouldn't be able to resist bending over for a closer look at all the washed up gems...and perhaps even pocket one or two. 

All of our Lord's creation is beautiful. So take a moment every day to stop and be grateful for it.

"And God said, Let the waters under the heaven be gathered together unto one place, and let the dry land appear: and it was so. And God called the dry land Earth; and the gathering together of the waters called he Seas: and God saw that it was good." (Genesis 1:9-10)

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Congressman Webster Rolls Back Own Pay; Delivers Check to U.S. Department of Treasury

Washington Jan 19 - U.S. Representative Daniel Webster (FL-08) issued the following statement upon hand delivering a personal check to the U.S. Department of Treasury this morning to roll his salary back to 2008 levels:

"Since 2008, hardworking Floridians have faced a tough economic climate that has forced them to do more with less. In this stagnant economy, few people across Florida have been fortunate enough to receive a size-able raise, and neither should I. 
Every dollar counts, and it is imperative that Congress gets their own fiscal house  in order first. I believe that rolling back my salary to 2008 is a small example of what we need to do with the federal budget. Reducing the national debt and living within our means begins with me. If one person can do this, then why can't federal agencies and departments do the same?"
said U.S. Representative Daniel Webster.

Daniel Webster, a family man and small-business owner, has dedicated himself to serving the citizens of Central Florida with honor and integrity. For nearly three decades, he has fought on behalf of Florida’s hardworking taxpayers and families to advance common-sense reforms and principled policy.

Webster served as the Speaker of the Florida House and Majority Leader in the Senate, working in these leadership roles to shake up the status quo in Florida and pass sweeping reforms that earned him widespread praise from the people of Florida. 

From his first day in leadership, Webster worked to reform the way Legislature did business, requiring all proposed laws to meet specific criteria that would determine its effectiveness in benefiting the people of the great state of Florida.

As the first non-lawyer to chair the Senate Judiciary Committee in Florida, Webster led Florida as the only state to pass a constitutional amendment protecting its citizens in the landmark Kelo Case (2005) dealing with property rights and government’s ability to condemn property.

With his engineering background, Webster found transportation issues quite interesting and he was thrilled to serve as Ranking Member of the Transportation Committee in the Florida House representing Central Florida’s unique transportation needs. Currently, Webster is working in Congress on transportation issues to create jobs, improve Florida’s roads and highways, and find ways to save money by eliminating fraud and abuse.

Webster’s other committee assignment in Congress is on the influential House Rules Committee where he is fighting to bring more transparency to the process and advance a policy environment based on principle, not power.

Known for many things, Daniel Webster still holds his faith, his family, and his principles as his biggest assets. 

Webster is married to the former Sandra Jordan of Orlando, and they have six children: David, Brent, Jordan, Elizabeth, John, and Victoria, and seven grandchildren. Webster is active in his church, First Baptist Church of Central Florida.