Small Town Nostalgia

 

(Editor's Note:  I had a pleasant surprise yesterday evening when I checked my email and found the following commentary on small towns from my good friend, Ranger Bob.  It's a beautiful piece that captures the essence of a road trip that Bob had taken to a community in rural Missouri, a trip that reminded him of his own small Missouri hometown - as it reminds me of the one in which I grew up as well.   Please enjoy!)

Small Town Nostalgia

by Bob Randall

Drive ten miles through the Missouri countryside on almost any old county road and you’ll find a small town. I think the spacing was a function of pre-modern transportation. One hundred years ago, a farm family just didn’t want to drive more than five miles for whatever they needed. If you drive through a small town on whatever their main street is named, you sometimes find a glimmer of esteem remaining. Maybe you’ll find a small café or gas station. There may be a church or two. A small town on a busy road may have a junk store with a sign that claims to be selling antiques. For sure there will be some old, abandoned buildings that used to be vibrant parts of the town's commerce. Of course, there will be a post office. The post office may even be functional, but that’s mostly because politicians won’t let the USPS operate as a business and the locals can’t bear to see it close. I get it.
 
This morning I went for a country drive and there I was in such a town. It was a little smaller than my hometown of Wheeling, Missouri, but it still had a functioning elementary school. Wheeling doesn't. Go figure that. It had two churches. Of course, the post office was right there on Main Street. Then there were the old, abandoned stores and one spot where I could tell that a building had been torn down. Junk and weeds were scattered on what had been the floor of the building. One store front had a sign that said, “General Store”. The lock on the door was probably frozen with rust. One of the old buildings had a wooden overhang over the sidewalk. On top of that was a railing around the balcony. Maybe that was an old hotel. Wheeling had a hotel once, but it burned down. I was flooded with nostalgia and a small degree of regret that my younger days are over. For a moment, I was hanging out in front of Smiley’s Drugstore on a warm Wheeling town-night. Then I blinked my eyes and by the time I opened them, I was at the other end of Main Street looking at the back side of the city limit sign. I went clear through town and didn’t see a single person.
 
I can’t leave this page without sharing something else about this small town. It is named Bois D’Arc. The name probably originated from early French trappers. It refers to a particular species of tree. The Osage Indians knew it as a tree that had strong, flexible, curved limbs that were just right for making bows. You may know it as a hedge tree, but its proper common name is the Osage Orange. The hedge trees that were on the farm where I grew up near Wheeling had been planted many years before I was born and if the farmer pruned them aggressively, they formed a hedge that was horse-high, bull-tight, and pig-proof. Then along came barbed wire and the abandoned hedge grew into trees. The hedge trees that I remember are gone now. Locally, here in the Ozarks, the town’s name is pronounced “bo-dark”. In a more elegant French accent, it might be pronounced “bwau d-ark” or some such construct of tongue and lips. I find that to be an interesting twist of place-name creativity. Wheeling, of course, was named after the founder’s hometown of Wheeling, West Virginia. That’s fine but it’s not very creative.

I live about 200 miles from Wheeling. I don’t visit often, but I think about it each time I drive through a small town. If you’re feeling nostalgic, go for a drive on a lonely county road.
 

Republicans Can't Handle the Truth

 

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

Thirteen Republican candidates for President dutifully appeared at the 2023 Lincoln Dinner in Des Moines, Iowa, last Friday night and spoke before 1,200 faithful Republican supporters.  The dinner, an annual fundraiser for the Iowa Republican Party, was a "cattle call," the type of event that GOP presidential frontrunner Donald Trump has avoided throughout the campaign, but it was such a big draw and important to-do that even Trump agreed to join the gaggle of common candidates, some of whom he has referred to as "clowns."

Trump has been reluctant about placing himself at events with other candidates so as to avoid surprise political attacks, although most of the other candidates remain extremely cautious in commenting about Trump for fear of further alienating his already-angry base supporters.  The Des Moines stop did not appeal to Trump because it limited him to only a ten-minute speech, and the windbag politician is more comfortable speaking in situations where he can pump an unfiltered stream-of-consciousness through his toxic blowhole for as long as the spirit moves him.  

Des Moines was not going to be an ideal setting for Trump, but Iowa Republicans sweetened the deal by giving him the final speaking slot on the evening's agenda,  As the wrap-up candidate, he could have a clear shot at what others had said - especially if it happened to be about him - and they would have no opportunity to rebut his remarks.

There was, of course, an assumption that no one would dare to be too critical of explosive showman / politician.

Mike Pence and Asa Hutchinson did dare to talk in very general terms about the need for new leadership, but they did so in the gentlest possible terms without deliberately twisting the lion's tail.  There was one candidate, however, who had no qualms about going after Trump directly, even in front of a room full of starchy white Iowa Republicans who had paid good money for a rubber chicken dinner and the opportunity to see Donald Trump in person.  

Will Hurd, a former three-term GOP congressman from Texas and also a former clandestine operative with the CIA, rose to the challenge and told the crowd exactly what they did not want to hear.  In his brief address to the cream of Iowa's Republican Party, Will Hurd said this:

"Donald Trump is not running for president to make America great again.  Donald Trump is not running for president to represent the people that voted for him in 2016 and 2020.   Donald Trump is running to stay out of prison."

Truth had been spoken, and the partisan audience could not handle the truth.  They booed and they jeered and the speaker acknowledged their contempt by admitting that the truth was hard to accept.  He also noted that a Trump nomination would make Biden more likely to be re-elected.  And then Mr. Hurd left the stage.

Denial may be a river in Egypt, but it obviously takes a meandering detour through Des Moines!

The Great Phoenix Bake-Off

 

by Pa Rock

Former Phoenician

Unless, like former President George W. Bush, I somehow managed to misunderestimate the situation - and I don't think I did - today marks that 30th consecutive day that my old stomping ground - Phoenix, Arizona - has seen temperatures in excess of 110 degrees F.  I spoke to a friend out there earlier this week, a lady who has lived in the "Valley of the Sun" for many years - and she is righteously miserable.  The leather-skinned people who inhabit the area are used to the heat, they just are not used to it being so damned unrelenting.

Maricopa County, Arizona, which includes the nation's fifth-largest city of Phoenix, is reporting 25 heat-related deaths during this current climate-change-induced crisis, and they are "investigating" 249 more.  The county has brought in refrigerated storage units to act as make-shift morgues until the crisis passes.

Phoenix may get a reprieve on Monday when there is a chance of an Arizona "monsoon" rain blowing through that could lower the temperature to around 105 degrees F. on Monday and 106 degrees F. on Tuesday, but on Wednesday it should be right back up at or above 110 degrees F. and and then reach a high of 117 degrees F. on the weekend.

At least two global climate organizations have proclaimed that this July has been the hottest month ever recorded, and likely the hottest thirty-day period on earth in at least the past 120,000 years, but some US politicians remain highly skeptical of science.  Alabama Senator Tommy Tuberville, a former football coach without scientific training, told Huff Post, "There's a very scientific word for this:  It's called summer."  After launching that humorous distraction, the smarmy politician went on to declare:  "The world's not heating up, come on."  Spray paint that on those make-shift morgues, Tommy!

Tommy Tuberville is, of course, a Republican, and he knows better than to believe in science, but the rest of us must figure out ways to live and survive in the real world, the one that IS heating up!

Stay safe, Phoenix!

Stent-O-Rama: A Medical Update

 

by Pa Rock

Geezer-Wheezer

So far my summer has been about equally divided between airports and clinics - and neither of those are much fun.

I began this summer with concerns about my heart as evidenced through what I considered to be difficulty in breathing, a situation that had been getting worse for months.  I had open-heart surgery in March of 2013, and historically the positive effects of that major treatment begin to disappear after about ten years, so I knew that it was time for a serious session with my cardiologist.

I visited with that particular medical provider in his office on May 22nd, and he was concerned enough that without further testing he scheduled me for a heart cath (angiogram) on June 7th.  During that procedure he discovered that I had significant blockages of arteries in two areas and he went ahead and placed two stents in one of those areas.  The initial plan was to do a follow-up evaluation in four weeks and then place one additional stent in the other area. 

I had two trips planned in the interim which I took with the doctor's agreement.

The four-week followup wasn't able to take place until week seven (July 25th), and during the interim I felt that I had not seen any improvement in my breathing issues - although I had experienced no heart pain or discomfort.  The nurse practioner who did the reevaluation was concerned and managed to schedule me for the second angiogram the following day.   During that procedure on July 26th the cardiologist inserted two more stents instead of the one that he had planned.

Today I am happy to report that even though the Joe Manchin heat outside is intolerable, I am feeling better and my breathing seems to be coming much easier.

 

Monday I am also scheduled to see a pulmonology specialist to take a pulmonary stress test to see if the breathing issues might have as much or more to do with my lungs as they do with my heart.

As Socrates famously said, "Getting old ain't for sissies!"

That's it.  That's my medical update and I'm sticking to it!

McConnell Suffers Prolonged Brain Fart

 

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

Yesterday antiquarian Mitch McConnell, an 81-year-old US Senator from Kentucky who seems to lack the desire and/or the decency to leave office under his own power, zoned out for a full twenty-five seconds while giving his weekly press briefing.  McConnell was led away from the briefing by a fellow Republican senator and reportedly went back to his office to sit-a-spell before ultimately returning and concluding the press conference.

According to a running tally compiled by CNN, this year alone Senator McConnell fell in Helsinki while walking to meet the Finnish President (February 24th):  fell at a Washington, DC, hotel where he suffered a concussion and broken ribs - and was off work for six weeks (March 8th);  had trouble hearing reporters' questions (June 6th);  fell at Reagan National Airport in Washington, DC, while getting off of a plane in what was described by on-lookers as a "face-plant"  (July 14th);  and, froze while speaking to reporters (July 26th).

Mitch now uses a wheelchair wherever he is at a busy airport.  His age-related impairments are becoming obvious.   McConnell has served in the US Senate just shy of forty years, and he is currently the fourth oldest member of that chamber.

Critics are calling for term limits on US Senators and members of Congress, or, if not that, age limits - both of which would be good commonsense measures to insure that our elected representatives stand less chance of being impaired with the infirmities often associated with aging, especially mental infirmities.

It's time to retire, Mitch.  Grab that gold watch and head home to fish, or paint, or plant flowers before you do a full-Feinstein and lose total track of where you are at and what you are doing.  Go now, and take every other octogenarian hiding out in government with you!

"Seventy-five and out!" has a nice ring to it!

When Is One Dollar Worth Twenty?

  

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

A few days ago I wrote in this space about how some Republican presidential candidates were, in essence, purchasing donors for their campaigns in order to meet GOP requirements for participating in the first national debate of Republican candidates on August 23^rd in Milwaukee.  One of the requirements for a candidate to be in the first debate is that he or she must have 40,000 individual donors including at least 200 donors from twenty individual states.  A “donation” can be as little as a dollar.
 
Some of the GOP presidential candidates, not being averse to grifting, immediately set about trying to find shortcuts to getting the necessary donors.  One of the more egregious ploys that I mentioned in the original posting was the brainchild of Governor Doug Burgum of North Dakota, a rich white guy with the financial means to rig the game.  Burgum invested $1 million in $20 gift cards which he then promised to people who would donate at least a dollar to his campaign.  One dollar for twenty – not a bad deal!
 
Another of the candidates, Mayor Francis X. Suarez of Miami, Florida, set up a raffle for donations with the top prize being a ticket to see Lionel Messi’s American soccer debut.  Suarez also raffled off a year of free college tuition.  But Suarez, unlike Burgum, failed to hit his donor goal and had to come up with a new idea - so he stole Burgum’s.
 
Now Francis Suarez has also invested in $20 gift cards which he will give to donors who grease his palm with at least a dollar.  There is no word yet on exactly how many gift cards Mayor Suarez felt compelled to buy, or how many lucky “investors” will receive one.
 
While this whole scheme wreaks of fraud, the Federal Elections Commission has yet to rule it as crossing over into the realm of illegality.  But “investors” might want to hurry and send in their dollar donations, nevertheless, while everything is still legal – at last in theory.
 
Corporate America has been buying elections for generations, so it’s only fair that candidates get their turn, too – and the denizens of the party whose poorest members send donations to Trump every time he gets indicted or has a bad hair day should be easy pickings!
 
These candidate clowns would make P. T. Barnum blush!
 

The Great Egg Heist

 

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

I had the good fortune to spend a week in Great Britain back in 2004, and one thing that I distinctly remember about that trip was the Brits' fascination with certain sweets.  A couple of times during that sojourn I sampled British ice cream cones – or watched others as they enjoyed theirs, and that wonderful summertime treat was usually garnished with a stick of cinnamon protruding from the ice cream.  (I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to eat the cinnamon or not, or whether it was there strictly as a decoration, or to help scrape the last of the ice cream out of the cone, but I chose to eat it – because I had paid for it.  Waste not, want not!)
 
Another sweet in Britain that I remember as being rather ubiquitous was the wonderful Cadbury Egg, a chocolate and “crème” treat that is primarily available around Easter.  It seemed like any candy counter that I approached had Cadbury Eggs on prominent display.  Although the special Easter treats are produced by an American firm, they are a big hit with the Brits – with over 220,000,000 sold in Great Britain each year.  
 
One newspaper article that I read said that Cadbury Eggs have almost a “cult following” in the British Isles.  (I guess that if you are going to succumb to a cult mentality and blindly commit yourself to following some preacher, product or fad, the Cadbury Eggs’ cult would be a great one to join!)
 
I am meandering through the topic of chocolate eggs with crème centers because of a story that has been in the news this week, a crime story out of Great Britain.  Last February a previously convicted thief decided to pull another heist.  I don’t know what his first crime involved, but this year’s centered on stealing a trailer loaded with over 200,000 Cadbury Eggs from a storage facility.
 
The young, aspiring career criminal, Joby Pool (age 32), stole a semi-tractor, cut his way through a lock on the storage facility with a metal saw, and hooked his ill-gotten tractor up to a trailer full of the Easter treats.  Then, just a few minutes later as he was tooling down the highway, Joby was pulled over by some very observant and curious law enforcement officials – and, after stopping in a safe location, he walked back to meet the police car with his hands in the air.
 
This week, after already serving nearly six months in prison while awaiting trial, Joby Pool finally made it before a magistrate where he wisely pled guilty to his crime.  He was sentenced to two years in prison with half to be served on a type of parole -and was given credit for the time he had already served.
 
Damn!  Wouldn’t a Cadbury Egg taste good right about now!
 
The word from the hutch is that if Joby puts out an Easter Basket next spring, he can expect to find it filled with rabbit poop!
 

Nick at Fifty!

 

by Pa Rock

Proud Father

Whoever thought that I could possibly live long enough to wish one of my children a "Happy 50th Birthday?"  Yet here I am, on a beautiful Monday morning in rural Missouri, doing just that!

My oldest, Nicholas Karl Macy, "Nick," was born fifty years ago today at Camp Kue Army Hospital on the Japanese island of Okinawa.  His time as a resident of Asia was short-lived, and he was at home in the United States two months later.

Nick has already outlived the large hospital in which he was born.  I had the opportunity to revisit Camp Kue Army Hospital on the Japanese island of Okinawa a decade or so ago when I was once again living and working there.  At the time Nick was born, the delivery room was on the top (fifth) floor of the hospital, and military policy kept expectant fathers out of the way in a waiting room off to one side.  I remember suffering a massive headache while Nick was entering the world next door (births can be hard on fathers, too, you know!), and a delivery room nurse bringing me some aspirin and a glass of water.  I also recall that I was watching an episode of "Sanford and Son" (remember Fred and Lamont?) on a large table-top television in the waiting room while Nick made his debut, though I don't remember what the episode was about.

I revisited that waiting room while I was back on Okinawa.    It was startlingly familiar, though the big television had been replaced with one of the small, flat-screened variety.  At that time,Camp Kue was in the process of closing, and the staff was moving to a much larger and nicer naval hospital which had just been built nearby.

Nick found that he was a natural fit living in Missouri, the place in which he has resided almost all of his life.  He likes outdoor things like hunting and fishing, and there is plenty of that in the predominantly rural "show me" state.   He raised his son, Boone, here and has formed many close friendships and connections in southern Missouri. He has recently been harvesting blackberries from a large patch that he planted - an activity that reminds me of when he would pick the same type of berries as a child from a patch that grew wild near our home in Mountain View, Missouri.

It is easy to tell that Nick is right at home in the Ozarks as he cruises up and down the country backroads in his classic 1964-and-a-half, shiny, red Mustang!

Nick is a good son.  He works hard, enjoys life, and is never too busy to stop and help his old dad out around the house and the farm.

Happy birthday, Nick.  I am very proud of you and always wish you the absolute best that life has to offer!

Centenarian Kissinger Does China One More Time!

 

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

Over the past month I have made two grueling journey's on passenger airplanes.  I am seventy-five-years-old with breathing issues, and there were times during those journeys when I did not think that I would be able to make it to the next plane - or perhaps even to the next meal.  Airline travel can be insanely hard even for the young and healthy, and for the elderly it can be damned near impossible.

That's why I was so amazed to hear that former US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger had gotten on a plane this past week and flown to China, a country he first visited in 1971 as he made preparations for Nixon's historic trip - and a country which he had visited many times since as a private citizen who earns a living peddling diplomatic contact and access information to international businesses.  Kissinger owns a private business which profits off of his history and connections around the globe.

The fact that Kissinger chose to make another trip to China was no real surprise.   He is well-liked by the Chinese government and they treat him more graciously than they do representatives of the Biden administration.  And by keeping all of his contacts current in China, Kissinger also fattens the bottom line of his business enterprise.

The surprise was that Kissinger is still able to bounce around the globe at all - you see, he turned one hundred last May!  Heinz Alfred (Henry) Kissinger was born in Furth, a city in the German state of Bavaria, on May 27th, 1923 - the same year that a young Adolph Hitler failed in leading his famous "Beer Hall Putsch," also in Bavaria.  Kissinger was nine when Hitler was elected Chancellor of Germany in  1933, and five years later the young German Jew and his family fled Germany, first for London and then to the United States, as Nazi intolerance was on the rise.

In America young Henry picked up multiple degrees at Harvard and went to become an expert in diplomacy.  He became an influencer and adviser to New York Governor (and later Vice President) Nelson Rockefeller, and ultimately landed a job as National Security Adviser in the Nixon administration.  Nixon was able to elevate Kissinger to Secretary of State during his first term in office, and he remained in that position throughout Nixon's time in office as well as during the presidency of his successor, Gerald Ford.

After that Henry Kissinger got into "for profit" diplomacy, a sea of opportunity which he still navigates - even in his one hundredth year.

Henry Kissinger's time in the political world, and particularly his tenure as Secretary of State, was awash in accolades and allegations.  He is credited with opening China to the West (and beginning Taiwan's long march toward the dustbin of history), helping to bring about the official end to the war in Vietnam through the Paris Peace Accords (for which he won the Nobel Peace Prize - an award that was bitterly contested in many quarters).   Kissinger has also been accused of contributing to war crimes and genocide in Southeast Asia, Pakistan, and Chile.

Now Henry Kissinger is one hundred years old - and he is once again visiting China.  Like the energizer bunny, he just keeps running and running - but I'm betting that he doesn't run across any airports rushing to catch planes - and that he doesn't fly coach when he does get to his plane.  Age has a few privileges, but wealth has many more.

Heck, I might even fly off to China if someone would bundle me up, put me in a private jet, and fly me there!   But the meal had better be more than a few lousy pretzels!

Teen with Cell Phone Shuts Down Ford Assembly Plant

 

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

In a real-life demonstration of just how fragile and vulnerable the American economy really is, a 19-year-old man in the Kansas City area who was armed only with a cell phone and an app to conceal his identity managed  to "swat" a Ford Assembly plant in Claycomo, Missouri, that employees over 7,250 individuals last Tuesday and get the evening shift of over 2,500 people sent home for the night.

Nineteen-year-old Zachariah Peterson of Independence, Missouri, was arrested and charged with making a terroristic threat after it was determined by law enforcement that he had made a hoax call to the Ford Assembly Plant in Claycomo saying that a disgruntled employee was barricaded in a restroom at the six-million-square-foot manufacturing facility, and that he was armed with an automatic rifle, three magazines of ammunition, a pistol, and a pound of C-4 explosive.  The plant was evacuated and production was halted for the entire evening shift while law enforcement from Claycomo, Clay County, Kansas City, Gladstone, North Kansas City, Liberty, Platte County, and the FBI were called in to conduct a search and to investigate the call.  The search of the immense facility took six hours and the threat ultimately proved to be false.

Peterson told investigators that he had made the call in order to get a friend off of work at the factory.  Later, when he was arraigned before a judge, he pleaded "not guilty" and said that he had been "forced" to make the call.  There is no word yet as to whether the friend who was working at the Ford Plant was a party to the hoax call or not.

Several news stories referred to this prank, or hoax, or criminal activity as an incident of "swatting," or the intentional disruption of a business or enterprise by making a false claim that results in emergency services being called - such as a S.W.A.T. team.

In this case the disruption was massive and expensive, with multiple law enforcement agencies responding and working the situation for several hours, Ford Motor Company having its operation halted throughout an entire shift, and the routines of 2,500 workers and their families upended.

Zachariah Peterson faces as much as seven years in prison and a fine of up to $10,000.

Republicans Are Buying Campaign Donors

 

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

As a person who has had a long-standing interest in politics, I have heard of attempts of candidates to buy elections, and, indeed, have seen instances where that appears to be what has happened.  Lots of rich people seem to think that their money somehow entitles them to hold positions of political leadership, and since the US Supreme Court has ruled that money is a form of speech and must be granted the right to express itself, the rich now have voices which can be more easily heard above those of us mere mortals.

Having plenty of money not only spreads the speech of candidates further, it also makes it much louder.

But this election year the power of money is playing out with greater flexibility in the election process. One of the requirements that Republican presidential candidates must meet in order to "earn" a coveted spot on their party's national debate stage, is to have a minimum number of individual donors to a candidate's campaign.  In order to secure a spot on the stage, a candidate must initially have 40,000 unique donors with at least 200 coming from twenty individual states.  The amount that donors need to give to a campaign can be as little as one dollar each.

And, leave it to Republicans to find a way to pollute that process.  Some of the candidates are actually out purchasing donors or offering incentives to people who cough up a dollar.

Francis Suarez, the GOP mayor of Miami, Florida, and presidential contender, has a sweepstakes in which donors can win front row seats to a big soccer match in his city.  Rich man Vivek Ramaswamy, another GOP presidential candidate, has a program where he will allow people who collect donations for him to keep ten percent of what they collect.  And another rich man, North Dakota Governor Doug Burgum, has set aside 50,000 twenty-dollar gift cards which he will dole out to "donors" who give his campaign at least one dollar.  One dollar for twenty is a pretty damned good return on your investment!  (In theory, Burgum could spend one million dollars to purchase a mere $50,000 in donations!)

The Federal Elections Commission may eventually come out against some of these donor-buying schemes, but for the time-being they are operational and serve as more examples of Republicans subverting democracy.

Where there's a will, there's a sleazy shortcut!

Rules of Civility

 

by Pa Rock

Reader

American author Amor Towels has published three novels ("Rules of Civility" in 2011, "A Gentleman in Moscow" in 2016, and "The Lincoln Highway" in 2021) which I just completed in an inverse order, and he has also published a couple of collections of stories, one of which consists of tales about Eve, a character who was initially developed in "Rules of Civility."  I have yet to read the story collections.

"Rules of Civility" was my cross-country, summer read.  I began it in North Carolina, continued reading in Missouri, and completed the novel a few days ago in Oregon.

Towels is an amazing writer whose elegant prose is a joy to read and whose clever craftsmanship builds stories that wash through the emotions like ocean swells.  Taking the time to become lost in one of his works is a wonderful diversion from the hard realities of life on a schedule.

"Rules of Civility," Towles' first novel, but the one which I read last, essentially describes life in what would have been New York City's jet set - if there had been jet travel in the 1930's.  It has the color and flavoring of F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby," with Tom and Daisy being replaced a decade or so later by Katey and Eve and their many friends and suitors.  It is a tale of a pair of secretaries who move beyond their station in life and eventually have a significant impact upon those of the upper echelons of New York society.

The novel primarily takes place in the late 1930's as the Great Depression is coming to an end and the nation is ginning up the economy with the production of military goods to help our European allies in the Second World War.  Many of Towels' characters seemed to have escaped the worst ravages of the Depression and had lived an extended version of the Roaring Twenties up through the end of the following decade.   But the world was rapidly changing, and the social elites' encounters with working people like Katey and Eve served as an illustration of the social and economic realignments that were emerging during that time.

I will not give away any of the plot other than to say that "Rules of Civility" is a wonderful excursion into a bygone era, and for those who relish great writing and grand story-telling, it is a trip not to be missed.  This is one that will stay with you for a very long time.

Highly recommended.

The End of the Line

 

by Pa Rock

Weary Traveler

I've flown so much the past month that the feathers on my arms are starting to frazzle and fall off.  Over the past thirty days I have served time in six airports, I think.  Kansas City (four times), Charlotte (twice), Raleigh (twice), Denver (once), Portland (twice), and Salt Lake City (once).  Portland remains my favorite - where I once encountered a TSA official who appeared to be of South Asian descent and was wearing a turban!    Kansas City is my least favorite, followed closely by Charlotte.

Yesterday's twin outrages at the Kansas City Airport (MCI), an airport which opened brand new earlier this summer, involved the parking building that was full to the max, causing our ride home to be late.  (Tim finally caught a break and came upon someone pulling out on the fifth level.). Then, on trying to get to the car, the one elevator that ran from the ground floor to the fifth level was already out of commission.  (Extra nice, MCI!)   My poor bedraggled sister and my poor bedraggled self had to climb three flights of stairs before we could catch a different elevator on up to the fifth level.  Of course, it was Tim who really suffered because he grabbed up all of the luggage so his elderly relatives would have less to worry about when they stroked out in the stairwell!

Kansas City Mayor Quinton Lucas, your airport sucks - and I mean that in the nicest possible way.   The next time you want to build a mall with runways, why not just call it a mall and turn those runways into extra parking spaces?

Rosie and I are home now, and the first load of laundry has gone through the washer.  It is hot and humid and very muggy outside.  The sky is overcast, and I am suspecting that all hell could pour from the heavens later tonight.

(Yesterday at the Salt Lake City airport I needed to get to the airline service desk.  There was a gaggle of folks in front of where I needed to be, and I finally made out what seemed to be a line.   I stepped up to the guy holding down what looked like the last spot and asked if it was the end of the line.  He laughed and said that it certainly was!  Tonight Rosie and I have reached the end of our line.  What a summer!)

Where are those damned high-speed trains that we were promised, @SecretaryPete?  This voter is paying attention!

PDXit

by Pa Rock

Traveling Fool

It's around 4:30 a.m. and we are at our gate at the Portland Airport (PDX) preparing to fly out to Salt Lake City (SLC) and then race to some other gate - as yet unassigned - for our final leg of the odyssey - the flight to Kansas City (MCI).

We had a unique experience yesterday riding a bus and then a tram across most of Portland in order to get downtown where we visited Powell's Books, one of Portland's many "must experience" sites.  Powell's covers an entire city block and is multi-stories high. It advertises itself as being "a city of books," and also as "the world's largest bookstore. " The store also sells book-related apparel, games, and all manner of interesting things.

We did walk by a couple of guys smoking pot on the city sidewalks - which indicated that we weren't in Kansas any more!

And today we will be running between gates at airports with all of the other jackasses.

So it's off to the races!

The Road To Portland

 

by Pa Rock

Traveling Fool

I said goodbye to my Oregon grandchildren yesterday evening, and this morning Abigail and I will be on the road to Portland where we will turn in the rental car at the airport and then call for a shuttle to our hotel.  After checking in, we will figure out how to get to downtown Portland and explore a bit.  (I have in mind that I would like to see the main "Powell's Book Store."

Our flight tomorrow departs at 5:35 a.m.  (Thanks, Tim!). It's Delta, a company that stole the price of a plane ticket from me during the pandemic, so I will be boarding with negative expectations.  Then we go through Salt Lake City and rush for a connecting flight, and finally back to Kansas City where we each still will have hours to drive before ultimately getting home to our own beds and washing machines.

The road to Portland is interesting.  It is US 5 which runs all the way from San Diego, California, to Seattle, Washington.  We catch it just a couple of blocks from our hotel and it will take us most of the way to the Portland Airport (PDX).  There is a highway marker just north of Salem which identifies the 45th Parallel, the halfway point between the North Pole and the Equator.  Other than that the scenery will include a lot of highway fare - exit signs and truck stops - and plenty of tall evergreen scenery.  Traffic will be brisk and the drive of sixty miles or so should take about an hour-and-a-half.  

Today we will probably be able to catch our breath and relax a bit, though that is by no means guaranteed, and tomorrow we will definitely be busting ass from the middle of tonight onward as we rush and run to get home.

Daddy's coming, Rosie!  See you tomorrow!

A Foggy Day in Lincoln City

 

by Pa Rock

Traveling Fool

Yesterday my sister and I went on an outing with Molly and Scott and Willow to Siletz Bay in Lincoln City, Oregon, a seaside community that is about sixty miles from Salem.  Sebastian didn't want to go and chose instead to stay home with his brother, Judah, who was not feeling well.  As with all projects carried out by a committee of adults, it took forever to get organized and on the road, but once we cleared the city limits of Salem, the state capital, we were able to enjoy a beautiful drive to the seashore.

(American humorist, Mark Twain, once described a camel as a horse that was designed by a committee.)

The drive over to the Pacific featured some very nice farmland close to Salem, including a few orchards and even one vineyard.  I was surprised to see quite a few properties for sale, although most were undoubtedly way beyond the means of this poor tourist.  The second half of the trip involved winding roads through hills of lush evergreen forests.

(The people here, and much of their housing, tend to resemble people and structures back in Missouri, a description that is not intended to be complimentary, but one that may be related to the fact that the Oregon Trail originated in Missouri and that early traffic artery brought many Missourians westward in one final search for the promised land - and we all descend from the same Appalachian hill people.) 

The weather was supposed to have been bright and warm, but the forecaster lied.  It was foggy the whole time we were there, with a steady and very chilly wind.  The beach was crowded despite the weather.  Several people were trying to fly kites, but it was even too windy to do that with much success.

The gulls dove in and out of the winds begging for food, and they were fun to watch.    Several people were "crabbing" from the shore, and a few appeared to be fishing.  There were even a few dogs playing "fetch" and enjoying romps along the beach.  There were also a bunch of seals lying on the beach of an island that separated Siletz Bay from the world's largest ocean.  The seals were relaxing in the fog and appeared to be on the lookout for food that might come swimming by.

For dinner we ate at "Mo's," a local seafood chain that offered up some excellent fare.  I had clam chowder served in a bread bowl and topped with a pile of baby shrimp, a concoction that is called "Slumgullion."  Most delicious and highly recommended.  There was a line to get into the restaurant, but it moved fairly quickly.  Scott remarked that "There is always a line at Mo's."

I'm not sure what will be on the agenda when we see Molly's family later today, but I am sure we will find something fun to do.  We will leave Salem in the morning, spend Monday night in Portland, and fly back to the midwest on Tuesday. - and, as promised - my next trip will NOT be on an airplane!

Oregon Adventures for the Whole Family

 

by Pa Rock

Proud Grandpa

My sister and I arrived in Portland, Oregon, Wednesday morning, rented a car, and drove down to Salem early that afternoon.   We both drive Kia Souls, so that is also the type of car we rented.  The rental is apparently a 2023 and has more warning buzzers than I am used to - and definitely more than I like.  We are also each carrying cell phones, and we have automatic sensors attached to our bodies which tell us when our blood sugars are too high or too low - so something is always beeping or buzzing - and I work hard at ignoring the whole cacophony of crap!

Thursday Grandson Sebastian took us to a bookstore in downtown Salem to show off his driving skills.  He appears to be cautious and alert when he is behind the wheel.  Gas here is just under five dollars a gallon - I blame Trump - and I understand that it cost him $52 dollars to fill his car, which is primarily an economy vehicle.

Yesterday we went with my daughter, Molly, and the two younger children, Judah and Willow, to an "adventure" center which is an indoor facility with lots of equipment for the kids to play on.  Adults can enter free and sit at tables just outside of the play area where they can enjoy food and beverages for sale in the facility.  Interestingly, there is a fully stocked wet bar for the adults as well!  There were also signs referencing "adult" shows in the evenings.  It is obviously a "fun center" for the whole family.  On the plus side, the kids had fun, and I didn't see anyone drinking while we were there.

Judah's school is year-round, so he has had a busy summer.  Willow is attending what appears to be a very comprehensive fine arts summer school and seems to be enjoying that.  She told me that she is studying dance, acting, and songwriting at the summer school program.

While we were driving across town yesterday I did spot what I believed was a witch's house, and my sister said, "Well, this is Salem, after all."

Salem, like the much larger Portland, Oregon, traditionally has had a serious homelessness problem, but this trip I had not seen any homeless individuals - until yesterday, that is - when I was looking out of my hotel room window and saw a fellow walking into a secluded highway underpass just behind the hotel. I know a couple of communities in Missouri where homelessness is not a problem as long as the unfortunates and downtrodden stay hidden.

It's a beautiful,  cloudless sky today and we are headed to the beach where several of our group will splash in the Pacific and at least one fuddy-duddy will sit in the shade and read.

(Cousin Joyce, thank you so much for "Rules of Civility" by Amor Towles.  I am truly enjoying it!)

(To the good people of northwest Kansas - and especially to our friends and relatives who weathered the awful storms last night, we are thinking of you.  Stay safe!)

Hollywood is on Strike!

 

by Pa Rock

Film Fan and Television Junkie

 One-hundred-and-sixty thousand members of SAG-AFTRA (the Screen Actors Guild and the American Federation of Television and Radio Artists) went on strike at midnight last night - Hollywood time - and are on the picket lines today.  They are unhappy over a lack of adequate compensation for works that are streamed by millions in today's new marketing models, and also over the impact that Artificial Intelligence may have on the studios' abilities to reproduce their work without the physical input of the actual actors.  Technology seems to be playing out against them, yet the corporate big shots are doing extremely well - thank you very much.

The entertainment industry is, at its core, very similar to Walmart:  the top of the food chain - the bosses and shareholders - reap the rewards and live like royalty while the workers scurry around trying to survive their hand-to-mouth existence.  And the bosses, of course, blame all inequities on the "greediness" of workers.

The actors are joining the members of the Writers Guild of America who have been on strike since May 1st and are essentially dealing with some of the same remuneration issues - fair compensation for programs that are being streamed, and concerns that Artificial Intelligence will soon be refined to the point where it will be able to produce flawless scripts in the style and voice of the actual writers.  

One interesting historical note that has merged from this labor stoppage is that the last time the writers and actors struck in tandem was in 1960 when Ronald Reagan was the president of the Screen Actors Guild.  Over the next two decades Reagan came to realize that management had all of the money and resources, and he quickly changed teams.  As President Ronald Reagan prided himself on being a union-buster and one of his first notable acts was placing every flying American in mortal danger by firing all of the Air Traffic Controllers who refused to leave their strike.

Ronald Reagan, who was a washed-up, has-been actor in 1960, used the notoriety that he got as President of the Screen Actors Guild to propel himself into politics.  Some pundits are suggesting that the current SAG President, Fran Drescher, might possess some of the same political instincts as Reagan - but without becoming a sell-out - and go on to a career in politics herself.   President  of the United States Fran Drescher - I could support that!

Stand strong and march hard, writers and actors.  Your work is art and a cultural pillar of modern America - and it is important.  Demand your fair share for the work you do, and if Bob Iger has to start driving himself to work, so be it!

(Full disclosure:  I have a son who is a member of the Writers Guild of America - West.)

Kansas City's New Airport: More Shops, Less Convenience

  

by Pa Rock

Weary Traveler

My sister, Abigail, and I are safely in Oregon and having a visit with my daughter, Molly, and her family.    Last year I did not go anywhere, but this year I have already made two long trips, this one to Oregon, and an excursion to North Carolina three weeks ago where I was able to see one of my plays, "The Shine from Dead Man's Bottom," being produced in Goldsboro.  

Both of those trips involved travel through Kansas City's new airport - and Pa Rock is here to tell you that he is NOT impressed!  Kansas City built its last new airport back in the late 1960's and early 1970's. It was thirty or forty miles north of town in a rural area with plenty of room for growth.  The new airport is in the same area.

The old KCI was one of the most convenient airports in the nation, and you could almost see your airplane from where relatives would let you out at the curb in front of the terminal.  You could literally enter the terminal building and be on your plane in just a few hundred steps.  Easy, peasy.  There were three half-moon terminals serving the different airlines with a free and convenient shuttle between the terminals for those who arrived on one airline and departed on an other.  So simple!

The new airport is more like stepping into LAX in Los Angeles.  It is massive.  I wear one of those watches that tells me how many steps I walk in a day, and yesterday from the time I entered the terminal building until I officially stepped onto the plane,, I walked 3,623 steps.  That is an outrage!

The reason the march to the airplane is so long is to accommodate massive amounts of new shops - which was probably the major emphasis for the Aviation Division of the Government of Kansas City, Missouri, building a new airport to begin with.  Those massive indoor shopping malls produce enormous rents to subsidize the airports, and in return they charge exorbitant prices to trapped shoppers - but everyone who travels understands that scam.  Yesterday, as an example, when my  blood sugar suddenly went low and I had to find something sweet quickly, I bought six mini-doughnuts for "just" $4.99 plus Missouri tax.

The new Kansas City International airport is a good one to avoid, but for those who get sucked into its endless corridors of arrival and departure gates, keep those credit cards handy because at KCI shopping is what it's all really about!

Where the hell are those high-speed trains, @SecretaryPete?

Hoppy

(Editor's Note:  The following history of fictional cowboy, Hopalong Cassidy, was provided by guest blogger Bob Randall.  Thank you, Ranger Bob, for sharing your unique knowledge of this iconic figure with our readers!)

Hoppy
by Bob Randall
 
One of my childhood heroes was a tough-talking, roughhousing, hard-drinking, quick-to-fight-or-settle-an-argument-with-a-gun, redheaded cowboy whose smokes were hand-rolled.   His horse wasn’t white and neither was his hat. He didn’t bother hanging cattle rustlers or horse thieves. He just shot ‘em. He took a bullet in the leg and had a slight limp thereafter. I’m not talking about any guitar-strumming, girl-chasing, slick-back hair, smooth-talking Hollywood movie star. This guy was real.
 
That is only partly true. Most of that is a description of the early personification of my real hero. Just after the turn of the century 120 years ago, a guy named Clarence Mulford wrote a book. It was a success, so he wrote some more. I was a middle-aged man before I even knew those books existed. It was all a precursor of my hero who made movies and tv shows, rode a white horse, wore black clothes and even a black hat. His hair was pure white, he drank sarsaparilla, and was the foreman of the Bar-20 ranch. He captured villains unharmed and turned them over to the law for justice. He didn’t smoke and he didn’t cuss. He took a bullet in the leg but somehow recovered well enough that he didn’t limp anymore. The nickname stuck anyway. That was quite a transition from the page to the screen.
 
No, he didn’t have a partner who drove an open-topped Jeep. His horse wasn’t a palomino, and he didn’t sing songs in a cowboy band. 
 
No, he didn’t ride with a guitar and his partner wasn’t named Froggy.
 
No, he didn’t wear a mask, shoot silver bullets, or answer when addressed as “Kimosabe.”
 
His sidekicks were California Carlson and Lucky Jenkins. His horse was named Topper and he didn’t have a dog. 
 
When Hollywood decided to make a western movie about this character, William Boyd was cast as Hopalong Cassidy, and the great American western genre was born. TV and a case of mistaken identity in the newspapers ruined all of that. He was broke and unemployed. He sold everything he had to buy the rights to the character and the movies. He parlayed that into the television Hoppy that I grew to admire.
 
When I was in grade school and we played cowboys at recess, I was always Hopalong Cassidy. One of my other buddies was Roy Rogers and another was the Lone Ranger. A fourth kid was always the bad guy. He didn’t want to be the villain, but we shot him dead every recess anyway.
 
Bill Boyd was born and raised in southeastern Ohio. Cambridge, OH, had a Hopalong Cassidy Festival complete with a parade of cowboys, a contest for wannabe big screen cowboy hero look-a-likes, and opportunities to buy memorabilia and replica items. There was even a Hopalong Cassidy Museum. I’m glad I went to the festival about ten years ago. The museum burned to the ground in 2016. Do all good things come to an end? At least, some do.

 

The Red Green Show is Hiding Out on Roku

 

by Pa Rock

Culture Vulture

Back in the day, somewhere beyond twenty years ago, I would often sit up late at night on Saturday or Sunday evenings to watch some of the British mysteries and comedies on National Public Television.  I was living in extreme southwest Missouri, and that was one of the few ways to access international entertainment at that time.
 
At some point the local Public Television channel – out of Springfield, I believe – also began airing a Canadian comedy in its lineup.  That program was “The Red Green Show,” an absurdly funny thirty-minute comedy that was unlike anything I had ever seen.  The central character was obviously Red Green, a fictional Canadian ‘handyman’ who showed viewers how to use various power tools as he worked on oddball inventions from the sanctuary of his hugely disorganized workshop.   Green encouraged his (male) viewers with the line, “If women don’t find you handsome, at least make sure they find you handy.”
 
Red's various lodge brothers would drop by the shop and help out with his wacky projects, and Red’s nephew “Harold” was a regular on the show.  Red Green was played by Canadian comic Steve Smith, and Pat McKenna played Harold Green.  Red and Harold wore matching outfits of long.-sleeved plaid shirts, suspenders, and khaki pants.

The show ran from 1991-2006.  I was delighted this week to find that the Roku Channel has all fifteen seasons.  Roku is one of those “free” streaming channels where viewers must put up with commercials in order to enjoy their shows.  Yesterday I watched episode one, season one, and there were no commercials.  I’m sure as people begin discovering this program, commercials will start popping up.
 
In the first episode Red tells of a recent visit to his lodge where the brothers began discussing what it takes to be a real man.  They decided that, among other things, a real man should be strong and smell of gasoline, and the lodge brothers took that to mean that a real man had to have a good outboard motor.  Red determined to make an outboard motor using a 427-cubic-inch car engine that he had salvaged, and throughout the rest of the show as various skits played out, Red talked about the progress he was making on the new outboard motor.  He eventually finished the project and said that he took it for a test ride on Possum Lake, the fictional lake around which most of the show’s action takes place.  Red reported to the audience that the outboard motor had worked very well and topped out at eighty-miles-an-hour.  “Unfortunately,” he continued, “the boat could only do seventy-five-miles-an-hour!”
 
There was also a hilarious skit in the first episode where Red climbed up a fire tower to visit with the ranger who had lived there for years.  The ranger was so happy to have company that he did everything he could think of to get Red to promise and come back and see him again.  In another skit Red takes a young boy, around twelve or so, out to a field to teach him how to play croquet.  However, the grass in the field needed mowing before they could set up the croquet hoops, and Red spent some time pulling on a starter cord trying to get his old gas-powered mower started.   When he finally got the mower going, he turned it over to the kid and started him mowing.  Then Red walked off to do something else, saying “He’s going to be at that for a while,” and the croquet never happens.  But (and this is important) the discombobulated handyman did take time to congratulate himself for mentoring a young person!  Both of those skits were forerunners of regular features on the show.
 
When I was talking about this show to a friend, he remarked that it had been especially popular with “potheads,” but I’m here to tell you that it’s a hoot even if you’re not high!
 
Check out “The Red Green Show” on Roku.  It’s very funny stuff!
 
(Episode two is entitled “The Elvis Encounter,” and I am anxious to see it – you betcha I am!)

 

Rosie is Nine

 

by Pa Rock

Dependable Friend

My best friend, Rosie (a.k.a. "Rosie B. Doggie," "Sweetie Petey," and "Good Girl Pearl"), is nine-years-old today.  That's her age in "human" years, in the universe of dogs she is a matronly sixty-three, an elder barker who is no longer shy about expressing her demands and napping whenever and wherever she wants to!

Rosie and I first met when she was about six-weeks-old and was up for sale with her smaller sister at a roadside stand in the little berg of Cauflield, Missouri.  It was September 1st, 2014, and I had just retired and had been living back in Missouri for less than six months when I pulled over to have a look at the "puppies for sale" which were being advertised on a large, homemade sign.  Rosie and her smaller sister were in a cardboard box, and I stuck my hands in to touch the tiny creatures.  Rosie responded by licking the offered hand.  

The lady selling the puppies was a local dog "breeder" (often a polite term for puppy mill operator) and I felt an immediate need to rescue one or both barely-weened puppies.  But I resisted and headed on into Mountain Home, Arkansas, to shop for some home supplies.  I told myself that if the little creatures were still there when I returned in a couple of hours, that I would rescue them.

When I drove back through the stand was still up and I pulled in again, and Rosie was there patiently waiting.  (The seller told me that her sister had gone to a home with some people passing through who said they lived in Chicago.)    Rosie moved into my house that evening and has been in residence here ever since.  It is, in fact, her house now and I am the tolerated guest.

The next day I took tiny Rosie to the vet for a general well-being checkup.  She was still timid and not eating, but he put some canned food on his finger that was so delicious that she could not help herself.  We dined on that for several weeks.  The vet weighed Rosie and she was one pound and one ounce.  Now Rosie eats well, and she lets me know when she is hungry by licking her lips.

(Today she is in the eleven pound range.  Rosie also now has some clouding of the eyes which the "expert" locals say is cataracts, but the vet says is a viral eye infection that we can't seem to get to go away - but she can still spot a squirrel at a hundred yards and give chase!  Rosie's hearing more than makes up for any loss of vision.  I like to say that she can hear an ant fart in a thunderstorm, and I truly believe that she could!)

That same day that Rosie came to live at my house, I was talking to my granddaughter, Olive, on the phone and telling her about my new puppy who still had no name.  I asked Olive, who was two at the time, for suggestions, and she said "Rosie," and I liked it - and more importantly, so did Rosie.  So "Rosie" it was!  (I learned later that Olive had selected that name because "Rosie" was the name of the Dora the Explorer's little sister.

Olive is eleven now and will be twelve in October.  Rosie recently spent a week with Olive and her family while I was in North Carolina, and tomorrow we will be with the Kansas Macys again as I prepare for a week in Oregon and Rosie prepares to lay down the barking law to Jack the Black Lab.  She will be with Olive's family for another week.

When Rosie was young she was very playful and liked to chew things that she shouldn't - like computer cords.  Now that she is older she is more sedate and sleeps much of the time.  She also  likes to curl up next to me on the couch and watch the occasional television program - or sleep while I watch television.  At night Rosie sleeps in her own little bed beneath mine.   If I get up in the middle of the night, she will often follow along to make sure that I am okay.

That's what friends do - they look after each other.

Happy birthday, sweetie.   You are a wonderful friend!

Threads: 95 Million Sign-Ups In Four Days!

 

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

For those of us who have been standing on the sidelines and patiently awaiting the demise of Twitter, that day may have finally arrived.   Threads, supposedly the closest thing to the pre-Musk Twitter to yet reach the market, premiered just four days ago and had 10 million sign-ups in the first seven hours.  This morning the app was at 95 million signups and still climbing.  

Threads is an Instagram app, and Instagram is in turn owned by Facebook's parent company, Meta - all of which is controlled by billionaire, Mark Zuckerberg.   Twitter is an independent social media concern that was purchased last October by billionaire Elon Musk for $44 billion.

Elon Musk assumed personal control of Twitter and made decisions which left the platform in a state of flux.  He brought back accounts that had been barred due to misinformation and/or hate speech, and closed facilities and cut staff.  One result of the upheaval at Twitter was that many users chose to leave the platform - including this tiresome typist.   Many of those who left have been waiting patiently for an alternative similar to Twitter to present itself, and of several alternatives that have sprung up over the past several months, Threads appears to be the one that is generating the most excitement.

I plan to join Threads  and become an active user just as soon as I find some twelve-year-old with time to show me how to become a member and how to use it.  I will be seeing several of my grandchildren next week, and perhaps one of them will be able to get Pa Rock onto Threads!

Meanwhile, Elon Musk has looked at the numbers and seen the future.  He has already had his attorney send a letter to Zuckerberg threatening a lawsuit and claiming that Zuck has hired former Twitter employees and is stealing trade secrets.  (Yo, Elon - maybe firing all of those people wasn't such a great idea after all!)

Don't you just hate it when billionaires can't play nice with each other!

Determined Student Gets His Diploma

 

by Pa Rock

Missouri Citizen Journalist

I came across an inspirational story on the internet this morning, and because it was rooted in my home state of Missouri, the tale struck a particularly deep chord with me.

Xavier Jones, a fourteen-year-old who was attending eighth grade in a St. Louis area public school this spring, desperately wanted to attend his eighth grade graduation which was being held at Harris-Stowe State University in St. Louis, an historically Black school that was located six miles from his home.  Sadly for the lad, his grandfather's car was not working and he had no way to get there.

So Xavier began walking, a long trek on a hot day that took two hours and crossed some rough neighborhoods.

Somehow word spread through the graduation crowd about the effort that young Xavier had put forth in order to pick up his diploma with the rest of his class.   One of the people in the audience who heard about the lad's long march of determination was LaTonia Collins Smith, the President of Harris-Stowe State University.  After meeting with young Mr. Jones, the college president was so impressed that she offered him a full-ride scholarship to her school.  Her affirmative action insures that Xavier Jones, should he choose to do so, will be able to attend Harris-Stowe for four years, tuition-free.

Local businesses also showed their support for the young man who had been so determined to show up and get his diploma.   Xavier was presented with a bicycle, and his family was given a car to help with their transportation needs.

Harris-Stowe is a small public university which had an enrollment of 1,200 students in 2020-2021.  Notable graduates include my favorite Missouri member of Congress, Cori Bush, and the late Dr. Arlene Ackerman, a highly respected educator who served as superintendent of schools in San Francisco, Philadelphia, and Washington, DC.

Congratulations on your graduation from 8th grade, Xavier.   You have done yourself and our state proud!

Comeuppance Chronicles: Freedom Caucus Gives Marge Greene the Boot

 

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

The Freedom Caucus is a group of forty-five extreme right-wing radical members of Congress who have banded together to give each other moral support as well as to increase their effectiveness in Congress by trying to agree on things and vote as a block.  The members are, of course, all Republicans.

The Freedom Caucus, primarily the dregs of the old House Tea Party movement, officially formed in 2015, and one of its first achievements was to block Kevin's McCarthy's planned ascension to the House Speakership that year, and Paul Ryan instead became Speaker of the House.   This year McCarthy was ultimately able to achieve that goal, but it came at a severe cost.  McCarthy had to make many side deals with members of the Freedom Caucus in order to win their support, and each side deal served to decrease the ultimate power of the Speaker.

A recent fissure between Speaker McCarthy and the Freedom Caucus broke open when McCarthy helped to pass a debt ceiling bill that the Freedom Caucus generally opposed.

One member of the Freedom Caucus, Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene of rural Georgia, broke with that right wing group early and supported McCarthy's bid for the speakership.  Greene, who obviously wanted more influence for herself in the current session, made a big production of moving her support to McCarthy before the rest of the Freedom Caucus was ready to act.  Some felt that Greene's support of McCarthy for Speaker was at Donald Trump's behest, and that her real agenda was to lick Trump's boots to the point where he would feel compelled to choose her as his running mate.

(Now, however, McCarthy is balking at endorsing Trump for President, and the rumors about Greene being the veep have cooled.)

Nevertheless, Marjorie Taylor Greene's perceived attachment to Speaker McCarthy seems to have given her come credibility issues within the Freedom Caucus.  Then, a few weeks ago Greene became incensed when Colorado Representative Lauren Boebert, the Communications Chair (Secretary) of the Freedom Caucus, tried to force through a measure to impeach President Biden that Greene felt was a usurpation of work she had already done on the matter - and Republican leadership did not want to fight an impeachment battle at that time.  Greene apparently called Boebert a "bitch" within range of a microphone on the House floor, a break with decorum that did not help the Georgia congresswoman with her already unraveling ties to the Freedom Caucus.

Word reached the press in late June that the Freedom Caucus was considering expelling Marjorie Taylor Greene from its ranks - and yesterday it was confirmed that the caucus had held a secret vote and given Marge the heave-ho.

Marge Greene is no longer welcome to meet and bitch with the malcontents.  She has gone over to the establishment!

(There is no word on whether she had to surrender her hooded sheet, abridged Bible, or parking permit for the Fox News garage.)

(Missouri, did you know that only one member of our current congressional delegation is a member of the Freedom Caucus?  That dishonor belongs to Eric Burlison of the 7th district.)

Patriot or Nationalist (Which Shoe Fits You?)

 

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

Yesterday I came across a quote on the internet in which the author,  Tom Nichols writing in The Atlantic in an article entitled "Reclaiming Real American Patriotism," described patriotism as once being a "joyful love of country," then as he expanded the topic to include nationalism, Mr. Nichols dropped this gem of wisdom on the differences between patriotism and nationalism:

"Patriotism, unlike its ugly half brother, nationalism, is rooted in optimism an confidence;  nationalism is a sour inferiority complex, a sullen attachment to blood-and-soil fantasies that is always looking abroad with insecurity and even hatred."

That certainly fit with my already established view of nationalists being a dour and mean-spirited group of people, and my belief that being supportive of things like making sure people were fed, clothed, housed, educated, provided with medical treatment, and treated with basic dignity in no way made me or anyone else less patriotic than people who opposed such measures.

Further reading brought forth other distinctions:  Patriotism was defined in terms of national loyalty and the love and support of one's country, but while nationalism sounded similar, it was usually described in a more aggressive and excessive sense.  Nationalism is patriotism but with a fascist bent.  It deliberately excludes and diminishes people who don't fit with the way nationalists see themselves, and it folds in nicely some of the malignancies that have tried to cling to American society since the nation was formed - things like racism, classism, homophobia, and a general  intolerance of anyone who is seen and regarded as different.

It's really a simple distinction.  Patriots recognize the nation in all of its diversity and work for the betterment of the whole, and Nationalists see the nation in terms of those who look and act like themselves and regard everyone else as a threat.

And when religion is added to the mix,  it gets worse.

Watch Out, Oregon - Sebastian Is Sixteen!

 

by Pa Rock

Proud Grandpa

My second oldest grandchild, Sebastian Files, is sixteen today, and like most young people his age he has been focused on learning to drive for the past several months.  I haven't ridden with him yet, but the reports I hear are that he pays attention and is a careful driver.  Sebastian lives in a small city, Salem, Oregon,where there is lots of traffic and many driving challenges, so being cautious is very important.  

My grandson has an interest in things that are old, and he told me recently that he has purchased two radios, one from the 1940's and the other from the 1950's, and is busy restoring them.  I will get to see both of them when I visit him and his brother, Judah, and his sister, Willow, at their home in Oregon next week.

Sebastian is a budding young writer who has three books to his credit and is busy working on a fourth.  He also writes for the school newspaper, an activity which he seems to really enjoy.  I have seen much of his work and am very pleased with what he has accomplished.

Sebastian, you are still at the front end of life.  Work hard and make good choices - and drive safely! Your grandfather is proud of you!  Have a great birthday and a wonderful year!

See you soon!

Harvard Sued. Should Merit Apply to Rich Brats, Too?

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

 

This week in a final push of hateful legislation from the bench, the United States Supreme Court struck down the long-standing practice of "affirmative action" in the college admissions' process.  Colleges and universities will no longer be able to insure racial diversity on their campuses through using race as the ultimate determining factor in who gets into their degree programs and who does not.  "Merit" is the new admissions' buzzword, and it seems destined to become a screen that will eliminate many minority students from being admitted to the two hundred or so top colleges and universities, the schools from which most of our nation's political and business leadership ultimately emerge.

Merit, huh?

The argument was that students who were not the strongest academically were given preferential treatment based on the disadvantages that they suffered while growing up:  things like being stuck in poorer, underfunded schools and lacking the advantages of things like travel, parents who were often in the household and at home, community supports, and even not having to dodge bullets on their way to school each day.  In some cases their grades and test scores were not the equal of those of Buffy and Trevor who did grow up with all of the advantages that their parents' money could buy.

But that's over, thanks to a ruling by the US Supreme Court.    Now the students whom God intended to be on the admissions list, will be.  They will be marching into the Ivy League schools and other prominent bastions of exceptional higher education based on merit, and not the color of their skin.  Well, actually many of them will be entering based on merit, but there will still be some "undeserving" miscreants slipping into those same exclusive schools based on things other than merit.

The current group of "undeserving" students who are currently receiving so much press with regard to college admissions are the ones commonly referred to as "legacy" enrollees.  Legacies are students that the major schools admit based on the fact that there parents or grandparents also went to school there - and often contribute extra cash to the schools for new buildings and things of that sort.  Legacies are the children of people who take care of the special needs of the schools, and, as a result, the schools take care of those privileged children.

One of the more famous legacies is George W. Bush, a young man who was a "C" student in high school and went on to become a "C' student at Yale after being admitted as a legacy.  Being a legacy student has nothing to do with merit.

The US Supreme Court currently has nine members.  Chief Justice John Roberts attended law school at Harvard, as did Justices Kagan Gorsuch, and Jackson.  Justice Clarence Thomas attended law school at Yale, as did Justices Alito, Sotomayor, and Kavanaugh.  Justice Amy Coney Barrett, the outlier of the group, attended law school at Notre Dame, a school whose tolerance is often questioned and one which went on to become her employer.

The current US Supreme Court is made up of graduates of the nation's most prestigious law schools.  They did not get their degrees from state university systems which grind out the preponderance of America's practicing lawyers.  The justices come from the rarified air of a very few elite schools - schools which will now be more difficult for disadvantaged youth to get into.    But, the doors will remain open to the less deserving "legacy" spawn of America's more privileged classes.

Merit!

The Court's ruling on "affirmative action" did not mention the other end of the spectrum, those without "merit" but who were smart enough to have been born into families with plenty of means.  The George W. Bush's of the world.

Yesterday a complaint was filed with the US Department of Education by a coalition of groups representing racial minorities alleging that Harvard University was in violation of the 1964 Civil Rights Act based on its policies related to legacy admissions, admissions which are as much as 70% white.  The complaint stated that Harvard should therefore be denied federal funding.  That move to take federal money out of Harvard's budget unless the school eliminates the practice of catering to the families of its graduates and wealthy donors should get the whole matter of legacies before the courts and ultimately let the US Supreme Court tell America what those Harvard-and-Yale-educated plutocrats think about "merit" when it steps on the toes of the children of their colleagues, friends, and neighbors.

Does merit apply to everyone, or is it just a handy screen to keep "those people" in their place?  Enquiring minds want to know!

The Art of Recording Family History

 

by Pa Rock

Family Historian

Those of you who follow this blog, admittedly a very select group, know that over the years I have written and preserved a lot of family history.   Much of my family history, especially the recent stuff from the 20th century, came from my own personal observations and recollections, but I also had the foresight to capture some of the personal recollections of my parents and some of my aunts and uncles. And, like every other family researcher who ever lived, I also have regrets about those people that I failed to talk to while they were still alive - and those questions I didn't get to ask.

My mother, a heavy smoker, received a medical diagnosis at a relatively young age which revealed that her time with us would be limited.  That happened at a time, roughly forty years ago, when I was just developing an interest in preserving family history.    One day I showed up at Mom's house with my "boom box" and a couple of blank cassette tapes, and sat down over coffee and interviewed her.  We talked for about an hour.  I would bring up a topic - something like "Tell me about your mother's parents." - and the would drift back in time and tell me about the moments in their lives which stood out to her.  I worked without an outline, and never did a follow-up interview.  Shame on me, because I missed so much.

Twenty-five years or so after that I captured some of my father's memories, but in a different manner.  I purchased one of those "Family Memories" books  that provide a long outline of questions to ask parents or grandparents - each on a separate page so they can write responses - and then I included that book among Dad's Christmas gifts along with a note telling him if he filled it out, I would make sure that each of his grandchildren got a copy.  It was almost two years later that he returned the book, completely filled out along with some loose pages that he had written and included.   Some of the questions in the book had not appealed to him, and my father had scratched those out and written in questions that he liked better and then answered those.

I organized the pages of my dad's magnum opus and made a copy for each of his even grandchildren.  Unfortunately, my mom's tape, which I copied an shared with her siblings shortly after her death, had disappeared over the years - even the siblings' copies - and all of that that I had left was a transcript of most of the tape.  I preserved that transcript in this blog, and used it as well as my dad's book in writing biographies of my parents which are also preserved in this blog.

This is a long holiday weekend for many families, and holidays, when families traditionally gather, are wonderful times for collecting family tales.    Today's advanced personal technology makes preserving those memories easier than ever.  If you happen to stumble onto a family gab session about the old days, just pull out your phone and ask if you can save those old stories.    There may be some hesitancy at first, the laughter and tears of days gone by will soon overshadow the presence of a recorder.

This morning I came across a suggestion on an internet discussion board about one way to conduct a family history interview that I suspect would be very effective.  The fellow that posted it said that it had worked well for him.  For that special older person whose family memories you would like to capture, try this:

Take the interviewee for a drive with a recording device between the driver and the person doing the talking.   (Conversation is often easier in a car when the participants can just talk and not have to worry about facial expressions and looking each other in the eye as they speak.)   Have some standard questions ready to get the conversation rolling.   While the interviewee is busy talking, drive by places that should evoke memories - the old home place, neighborhood, high school, church, cemetery - or anyplace of special family significance that will bring memories to the surface and get those words to flowing.

Share those memories, save those memories, and have a wonderful Fourth of July!