Happy Birthday, Willow: Sweet and Seven!

by Pa Rock
Proud Grandpa

I am blessed to have two granddaughters, and as of today both of them are seven.  The youngest of the two, Willow, was born into a family with two older brothers on this date in 2011, at a time when I was living and working on Okinawa.  Consequently, she was nearly a year old by the time we finally met.

Willow is one of the happiest children that you could ever hope to encounter.  She enjoys school as well as playing with her older brothers, Sebastian and Judah, and she holds her own with them quite well.  I only get to see Willow and her brothers two or three times a year, but when those opportunities arise, I work at spending as much time with them as I can.

We have been to the movies as a family group a couple of times, and when we go to shows, Willow sits next to me and always manages to eat most of our popcorn!  It's fun though, and I really don't mind.  I can get more popcorn anytime, but time spent with grandchildren is all too rare.

One of my favorite memories of being with Willow happened nearly two years ago when her mother took us to an event at an art an art center in the city where they live.  Almost all of the attendees were little girls dressed up as Disney princesses - and their busy mothers (with one lone grandpa stumbling around!).  The girls were there to paint pictures of two real Disney princesses, Cinderella and Snow White, who were circulating among their adoring fans.  Willow went to the art party dressed as Belle from Beauty and the Beast.  I remember that it was a struggle for her to complete her painting because she kept drifting over to chat with the real princesses - and the visiting royalty were very friendly and patient with all of their young subjects!

Willow, you will always be a princess to me!  Much love and happy seventh birthday!  May you enjoy at least a hundred more!

Still They Persist

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

U.S. House Democrats met yesterday and selected their leadership team for the next Congress.  There were no surprises in the top three positions because none of those selected had any formal opposition.  Nancy Pelosi was confirmed as the nominee to become Speaker of the House, Steny Hoyer was named as the next Majority Leader, and Jim Clyburn will become the Majority Whip.  All three have held down the top spots in the House Democratic leadership for years - and all three will turn eighty-years-old during the next Congress.

Still they persist.

The average life expectancy in the United States is 78.6 years.

Beto, Beto, Beto!

by Pa Rock
Fired-Up Voter

The 2018 midterm elections have come and gone, the old Congress is in its final throes, and the calendar year is rushing to an end.  The new Congress will convene on January 3rd, and within weeks after that - or perhaps even just days - Democrats will begun stepping bravely forward to announce their desire and intention to run for President.  At this point is looks as though the field of wannabes and actual contenders will be a crowded affair.

VoteVets.org is a left-of-center veteran's organization that I support whenever I can.  The goal of the group is to keep members informed of electoral issues and to do everything in its power to oppose the autocratic regime of Donald Trump.  In other words, VoteVets are good people.

This past week, in preparation for the political madness that will begin descending on the country in January, VoteVets sent around a simple questionnaire and a presidential preference ballot.  The email document asked for my email address (which they obviously already had), my first name, zip code, and if I was a veteran or not (I am).  Then it listed nineteen potential Democratic presidential candidates and Donald Trump and asked me to either select my preference for the nation's highest office, or choose "other" or "undecided."

VoteVets printed its list in alphabetical order.  The names on the internet ballot were:

Joe Biden, Michael Bloomberg, Cory Booker, Sherrod Brown, Julian Castro, Kamala Harris, Eric Holder, Tulsi Gabbard, Kirsten Gillibrand, Amy Klobuchar, Terry McAuliffe, Jeff Merkley, Chris Murphy, Beto O'Rourke, Richard Ojeda, Deval Patrick, Bernie Sanders, Tom Steyer, Donald Trump, and Elizabeth Warren.

Noticeably absent from the VoteVets list was Hillary Rodham Clinton.  Perhaps they believe her feint claim that she will not run in 2020, but I personally doubt the sincerity of that recusal.

2020 would be the proper year for a woman to head the Democratic ticket, and nothing - NOTHING -  would be sweeter than Donald Trump getting his ass handed to him by a member of the gender that he has routinely degraded and maligned for most of his adult life - but the stars don't seem to be aligning that way.

Hillary running again would be a huge mistake.  The last time Democrats chose to rerun a race - Adlai Stevenson versus Dwight Eisenhower in 1956 - Stevenson was beaten even more soundly by Ike than he had been in 1952.

Of the Democratic women who are on the list, Harris, Gillibrand, and Warren, all three very formidable and outspoken members of the Senate, are on the California, New York, Massachusetts axis that promotes a sense that the broader (Main Street) America is being ignored.  Gillibrand also has the baggage of being seen as one of the central figures in the political downfall of Al Franken.  Congresswoman Tulsi Gabbard is a combat veteran who opposes the removal of President Assad in Syria, causing some to feel that she may have too much radical baggage to form an effective national campaign.   That leaves Senator Amy Klobuchar, perhaps the least well known of the group, as arguably the best option from the field of female candidates.

Of the male contenders, Biden and Bernie Sanders are (as is Hillary) too dammed old - even if all three are younger than Nancy Pelosi..  Michael Bloomberg, an ultra-rich former Republican, is currently a Democrat and may be a Libertarian or a Pekinese tomorrow.  Tom Steyer, also ultra-rich, has sidetracked himself on a political bender to impeach Trump.

Sherrod Brown seems almost desperate in his desire for the White House, but his primary qualification seems to be only that he is from Ohio - a state the Democrats must win in order to prevail - and Brown is a bit duller than dishwater.   Others pulling up behind Sherrod Brown in the boring lane are Terry McAuliffe and Chris Murphy.  Senator Jeff Merkley of Oregon has a bit more fire than Brown, MCAuliffe, and Murphy, but he is relatively unknown.  Richard Ojeda is a nationally unknown West Virginia state senator with big ambitions, but he seems unlikely to start any major political fires.

Former Massachusetts governor Deval Patrick is also not much of a political fire-starter, but he is black and his nomination would be a welcome nod to the Democratic Party's large minority component - as would the nominations of Eric Holder or Julian Castro, both of whom would make strong contenders and would strengthen the party's hand with minorities.

Senator Cory Booker, a black man, is outspoken on many issues and knows how to draw attention to himself and his positions.  He was an active mayor of Newark, New Jersey, who often interacted with his constituents through Twitter and resolved their problems on the spot.  (Your trash hasn't been picked up?  I'll have a truck there in fifteen minutes!). While he was mayor, Booker once rushed into a burning building and saved a woman's life.

With Klobuchar and Booker, two sitting senators perched warily toward the top of the Democratic pyramid, yet neither with a national groundswell of public attention or favor, that leaves room for a populist usurper to move in and grab both the attention and the momentum - and that individual has arrived through a much-watched and analyzed senate race in Texas.  And even though Beto O'Rourke lost that race - barely - in deep red Texas to incumbent Senator Ted Cruz - he did manage to foist himself into the national spotlight.

Beto O'Rourke, through his thoughtful positions on the issues, his fearlessness in taking unpopular stances, and his sheer eloquence, is being regarded by many as this cycle's re-emergence of Barack Obama.  Like Obama, Beto is a young man (more than three decades younger than Nancy Pelosi), who has a raging intellect and a comprehensive command of the issues.  True, Donald Trump would undoubtedly delight in running against a polar opposite to himself such as O'Rourke, but Trump, like Cruz, would quickly discover that this energetic young Texan would be far more formidable than he could have ever imagined.

Yes, Congressman Beto O'Rourke, has lost an election - like Hillary - but unlike Hillary he did far better than almost all political analysts predicted that he would do.  Beto O'Rourke nearly sank Ted Cruz in bloody Texas of all places, and he would be a serious challenger to Donald Trump in every state - and not just the "necessary" ones that Hillary's team chose to target.  O'Rourke against Trump would be a defining moment for America, one that could drive ignorance and hate from the government and restore our national soul.  America could once again be America!

(It should be remembered that America's greatest president, Abraham Lincoln, ran for the U.S. Senate twice and lost both times - the final time being just two years before he was elected to lead our nation.)

The 2020 election is still almost two full years away - but Pa Rock is off the fence and in full campaign mode!

Beto, Beto, Beto!

A Bully, A Liar, and a Total Incompetent Waddle Up to a Border Crossing and . . .

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

This Thanksgiving weekend Americans were subjected to still more horror from the Trump administration.  In an unbelievable demonstration of racial hatred and cruelty, agents of the government of the United States of America lobbed tear gas canisters across the border and into Mexico.  The target of this needless act of aggression was an impoverished band of Central American refugees, many of them women and children.

Mothers screamed and ran, sometimes with babies in their arms and dragging toddlers, to get out of the path of the painful gas.

As outrage began growing on the U.S. side of the border about this brazen and dangerous political stunt, Trump officials rushed to declare that the tear gas was basically safe, with one toady proclaiming that it was so safe you could "eat it on your nachos." Even Trump himself began backtracking on his theatrical bravado and also declaring that the gas was essentially harmless.

Yet the trained mental health professionals who were also checking in with their opinions were quick to point out that the psychological effects of enduring a tear gas attack are likely to last well beyond childhood - and possibly throughout the entire lives of the young victims of the government violence.

But, damn, if it doesn't make for compelling television coverage, well then . . . what does?

Donald Trump and his administration are not concerned with how many poor people seek refuge in the United States, they are concerned with imagery - news photos that show American troops holding back the scary brown hordes of shoeless women and children, people they try to paint as dangerous criminals, gang members, drug traffickers, and rapists.  They are cementing a coalition of angry white racists, people who form the core of Trump's political base.

Trump is a concrete thinker who casts his legacy in concrete - big skyscrapers with his name in gold above the entryways.  Now he envisions a gigantic wall that will separate much of Mexico from the United States - a wall which may not bear his name, but will nonetheless come to be known as Trump's Great Wall.  And he expects the ever-gullible U.S. taxpayers to pay for this grandiose monument to his own glory.

Trump created a crisis at the southern border a couple of weeks ago as an election ploy to save the Senate for Republicans.  Now he is extending the crisis in order to push through funding for his wall during the critical budget negations that are scheduled in Congress during the next two weeks.  This will be do or die for Trump's wall effort, because once this Congress adjourns in December his Republican majority in the House will be gone, finito, for at least two more years - and the Democratic House will not give him the time of day, much less a personal monument in the form of a wall.

Trump wants his wall, and he wants it now - and he is more than willing to shut down the government in order to get his way.  We have, it seems, been reduced to government by tantrum

Here's hoping Congress stands tough, for a change, and tells Trump to sit down and shut the hell up.  If he wants a government shut down, then so be it.  We've survived others, and we can outlast another - and we can and we will outlast Donald John Trump.

The same Donald John Trump who told us two years ago that Mexico would pay for his damnable wall!

Oh for the days when the President of the United States was not seen by the entire world as a bully, a liar, and a total incompetent!   Certainly none of those Central American immigrants huddled in Tijuana shelters pose as much real risk to the United States as Trump does.

Civilized nations do not lock children in cages - and they do not tear gas kids.

Donald Trump has brought us low - very, very low.

Monday's Poetry: "Television"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

I spent the weekend before Thanksgiving at my son's home in the Kansas suburbs of Kansas City - and I'm glad that I chose to go then instead of waiting a week because now that whole area is buried under a thick comforter of snow.

While in the Kansas City area I accomplished two things of note.  On Sunday evening we took my granddaughter, Olive, who is seven, to see "A Christmas Carol," the stage play based in the classic novel by Charles Dickens, at the KC Rep.  It was the third year in a row that we have enjoyed this new family tradition, and a grand time was had by all.  Before the play started Olive entertained us by expounding on what she remembered from her two previous viewings of "A Christmas Carol," and to my delight, the story that is sticking with her.

The other big adventure in Kansas City was a trip to Costco, something that I try to accomplish each time that I am in the area.  The evil Walton Walmart family seems to have found a way to freeze Costco out of outstate Missouri and northwest Arkansas, so my only option to shop at the best box store in America (one where they pay their employees a minimum wage of $15.00 an hour and treat them like human beings) is to drive nearly three hundred miles to shop at Costco - and it's well worth the long drive - I pass dozens of Walmarts along the way!

Normally on these Costco runs I just buy non-perishable foodstuffs, paper products, and cleaning supplies and personal hygiene items, but even with just those frugalities the bottom line sometimes brings on heart palpitations.  So it was with some trepidation that I added a "luxury" item to this most recent visit.

I wanted - and proceeded to buy - a new television.  There was nothing wrong with my old one, a 31-inch flatscreen that I purchased at a Marine Corps Base Exchange on Okinawa seven or eight years ago - but I wanted bigger and better, nonetheless.  I wound up selecting a 55-inch model whose brand name I had never heard of.  My timing was excellent because I knew that my 19-year-old grandson would be visiting over Thanksgiving - and who better to install a complicated piece of electronic equipment than a teenager!

Boone got the new television up and running, and I am enjoying my enormous window on the world.  The screen is so big that people driving down the road out in front of my house can enjoy the programming as they drive past - and the television itself, while large, is lightweight enough that a house burglar in a wheelchair could probably make off with it - and thus save Pa Rock from getting sued by an injured hillbilly criminal.

It is a "smart" television with all of the streaming stuff built-in.  That's important for people like me who are too cheap to support the corrupt cable and satellite companies that own the Federal Communications Commission.  (Ajit Pai, I'm looking at you!)

And, perhaps the best part of this purchase was that it cost less than four hundred dollars - and that was nearly a full week ahead of "Black Friday!"  Pa Rock is one savvy shopper!

A brief personal history of television:  My father owned an appliance store in a small town in Missouri where he sold televisions and installed antennas until Sam Walton decided to destroy America's Main Streets.  I spent many evenings after school and weekends - even Sundays - helping to deliver television sets, some of which were very large pieces of furniture - and climbing around on roofs putting up antennas.  Our family had the first color television set in town, and my dad would open his store on Sunday evenings so that people could come in and watch The Wonderful World of Disney and Bonanza! - both of which were televised in color.

Back in those days television sets were not thrown away when they quit working properly - they were repaired.  A television repairman by the name of Kenneth Headlee had his shop in the back of Dad's store - and together they kept the little town of Noel, Missouri, connected to the outside world.

Televisions were becoming more expendable as my dad got older, and television repairmen went the way of the dodo.  But a used television always represented something of value to Dad, so he refused to discard those that quit.  For several years he maintained a pyramid of televisions in his living room.  The oldest one was a large wooden console which sat at the bottom of the pile.  Atop it was a large portable.  When that one stopped working, he bought a smaller portable and placed it at the pinnacle.  Someday, he reasoned, a new repairman would come to town - and then he would be a big shot with three working televisions!

So that is where I hail from.

My new television is very large, but it is so thin that nothing could possibly be stacked on top of it.

To celebrate my entry into the world of really big-screen television, today's poetry selection is "Television" by the immortal Roald Dahl.  In it Mr. Dahl laments the ascendancy of television into family life, and encourages parents to throw the devices out of their homes and replace them with books for their children to read.  I agree with his sentiments completely - and I do read - a lot - but I have no children in my home and am old enough to allow myself some mindless television-viewing without feeling too guilty.

Of course, Roald Dahl and his poem "Television" are out-of-date because today our children and grandchildren are focused on screens which are far more sinister than the ones who first let Howdy Doody and Lucy Ricardo into our homes.

But, timely or not, here is Roald Dahl's take on television:

Television
by Roald Dahl

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did. 

Police Kill Another Young Black Man

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

As I mentioned in this blog two days ago, there was a shooting at a large mall near Birmingham, Alabama, on Thanksgiving evening as the place swarmed with people eager to snag some bargains at the front end of the mall's "Black Friday" sale.  A 19-year-old male who was likely the intended target was shot twice in the stomach and remains in serious condition at a local hospital, and a twelve-year-old girl received a non-life-threatening wound from what was apparently a stray bullet.  Police were already at the mall working security when the shooting took place, and several of them rushed toward the shots.  One policeman observed a man with a gun running from the scene, and that policeman shot and killed the individual with the gun.

End of story.  Case closed.

Except, of course, there was more to the story.

The next day a journalist posted a photo of a discarded gun on the floor of the mall near the scene of the shooting, and police began to dig deeper into the incident.  It turns out that when the shooting started, several bystanders pulled out their own guns (We have the NRA to thank for that!) and people began running in all directions - including some of those who were wielding their own weapons in what they saw as a self-defense posture.  And in the melee, one excited policeman saw a black man running with a gun - and the cop's training and natural instincts took over.  The policeman shot and killed the black man, a former soldier who had a permit to carry the gun.

Now local police are saying that the wrong individual may have been targeted and shot as the supposed mall shooter.  The case was handed over to the county sheriff's office for investigation, and the state of Alabama subsequently took it over from there.    Citizen protests are occurring at the mall, and the family of the man killed by police has brought in a well-known civil rights attorney to seek justice for the death of their son.

Oh, and the actual shooter remains at large.

The only thing missing from this horrible tale is Donald Trump's two-cents-worth, but I suspect that is coming.

Take a knee, America.  The problem is still with us and it is getting worse.

Congressman Jason Smith Has Begun to Ignore Trump

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

My congress critter, a young, unmarried, homespun attorney - and Republican - by the name of Jason Smith, represents Missouri's 8th congressional district, arguably one of the most rural and poorest districts in the United States.  In fact, I recently read that Missouri's 8th is eleventh from the bottom in Gross Domestic Product (GDP) for all of the congressional districts in the United States.  It would be hard for anyone to take much pride in an economic showing that poor.

Our district, which has always suffered economically, had a serious setback last year as Trump's ill-advised trade war took hold.  Soybean production is important in the 8th congressional district, but it was thrown into a cocked hat when the Chinese put tariffs on soybean imports in response to Trump tariffs on steel and other items.  And some small businesses in the district that relied on imported steel were also impaled on the politics of the trade war.

It was as the trade war was kicking into high gear and seriously impacting farming and businesses in Missouri's 8th CD that Representative Jason Smith began distancing himself from the man who had once been his apparent hero - Donald John Trump.  Using Smith's weekly email newsletter as a barometer, his self-distancing from Trump seemed to begin in earnest as the trade war heated up.  Suddenly the young congressman began to shy away from the idea of associating himself with Trump at every turn.  Instead of fawning over the reality television personality and blathering on about taking meetings with Ivanka, Smith began polishing his focus on the folks and issues back home.

Today's newsletter from Congressman Smith contained no mentions of his Republican leader or the colorful First Family.   Cutting Trump lose will likely prove to be a good political strategy for Smith, especially when the indictments begin to fly.

When Robert Mueller finally cuts loose and begins presenting charges, Jason Smith will be posturing as one very independent congressman, free from the taint of crime and corruption that will be washing through the halls of power in Washington, DC - you betcha he will!  At that point he will be a one-hundred percent Missouri farm boy, a Mister Smith who went to Washington to work for all of us.

Someday he may even man-up and hold an actual town hall so that he can hear first hand, and unfiltered, the comments and concerns of the people who sent him to Congress.

It would be a nice change of pace for Jason - and for the people he was elected to represent.

In Praise of Youth and Fresh Visions

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Nancy Pelosi may smile effusively as she welcomes the incoming members of the 116th Congress, but one suspects that behind presumptive Speaker's show of expensive dental work is at least a fair amount of trepidation regarding the two years that lie ahead.  As the leader of the party in control of the House of Representatives, Pelosi should expect to move the agenda of the Democratic leadership (an agenda of which she was the primary architect) forward without too much discussion or dissension among members of her own party.

That's what she should expect, but the reality could turn out to be quite different.

One new member in particular is already throwing down markers which indicate that she has no fear of bucking Pelosi and working toward goals that she deems to be in the national interest - whether they are priorities of Pelosi or not.  Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez is a 29-year-old novice congresswoman out of Queens, New York, who as recently as a year ago was working as a waitress.  She believes that her working class background and her connections with struggling wage-earners gives her  a broad knowledge of the hardships and frustrations facing ordinary Americans, and she does not seem to be shy in engaging the powers that control Congress.

During one of Ocasio-Cortez's first full days on the Hill, as she was being "orientated," she joined in a sit-in of 150 young people who were holding down the floor outside of Nancy Pelosi's office.  The youth activists were trying to draw attention to the immediate dangers of climate change and garner some show of support from the Speaker-to-Be.   And there, in their midst, sat a new congresswoman who was not afraid to ruffle the feathers of one of the most powerful members of Congress.

Ocasio-Cortez just turned 29 last month, making her just under half the average age of the 116th Congress which clocks in at 58.5 years.   Pelosi will be 79 in March, making her a full twenty-years older than the average member of Congress, and a full half-century older that Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, who, when she takes office in January, will be the youngest member of that body.

So far Nancy Pelosi has been the picture of grace under pressure when dealing with Ocasio-Cortez and several other seemingly emboldened new Democratic members, but one suspects that once all of the swearing-in photos are taken, Nancy will begin welding her gavel to tamp down dissident behavior.  She is likely to find, however, that the effort to bring the young Turks into line may end up resembling a game of "whack-a-mole," and as she pounds one back into place, three others are likely to pop up somewhere else.

This group of newcomers has a different feel about it than other freshmen classes of the past.  They almost seem to be hellbent on making a difference, and their energies and determination will not mesh well with the hoary old procedures of the House of Representatives, procedures enacted over more than two centuries with the specific aim of slowing things down and thwarting populist uprisings.  Nancy Pelosi may deliver her agenda, but don't be surprised when other ideas spring directly from the floor of the House.

Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez (did I mention that she is just 29?) is already pushing one idea that could have a significant impact on getting more Americans to the polls.  She has announced that she favors elimination one of the ten federal holidays - Columbus Day - each year, and replacing it with a federal holiday for voting on the November Election Day of every even numbered year.  That would save the federal government money because it would only have to let its workers off two days in four years for that holiday - instead of the four that Columbus Day would have eaten up - and it would also de-emphasize the importance of Christopher Columbus whose current favor in history is slipping drastically.  Every thing about this plan is a plus, except Republicans and some conservative Democrats won't like it because it will give more working people an opportunity to vote - and when working people vote, people like Ocasio-Cortez wind up getting elected to office!

This particular strategy may not make it into law, but with the current surge of youth and energy within the Democratic House, other manifestations of democracy are sure to appear and demand to be heard.   The iron lid of control over the House of Representatives is about to be blown, and all of the Democratic heavyweights - people like Nancy Pelosi, Steny Hoyer, and James Clyburn - will be helpless to hold it in place.

House rules and procedures be damned - the people are fixing to be heard!  Hang on tight, Nancy, it's going to be a bumpy ride!

Black Friday Bloodsport

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

'Tis the season to duck and cover.

When I was but a lad there were a three days each year when families stayed at home and relaxed and enjoyed each other's company - Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's Day.  Schools were closed, and so were most businesses - sometimes by force of law.  Being out on the road for any reason was a challenge because most gas stations were also closed- giving their owners and employees the opportunity to be home celebrating the holidays with loved ones.

But then along came Walmart and a score of commercial imitators, and all of that family-centered nonsense was soon swept aside in a mad rush to make money.  All three of those former "family" days have now been funneled into one big commercial onslaught that makes the Johnstown Flood look like a tame weather anomaly by comparison.  The concept of a "Black Friday" immediately on the heels of Thanksgiving (Turkey) Thursday caught on a couple of decades ago, a time when merchants would place deep discounts on items to draw shoppers into their stores on the day after Thanksgiving - a day most workers were already off.  It was such a great idea, from the perspective of the merchants, that they began expanding it - opening their stores earlier and earlier, and finally pushing the opening back to Thanksgiving evening - with some stores even staying open on the Thanksgiving holiday itself.  And by New Year's Day most of the stores were open for dealing with long lines of people returning gifts that they had received but really did not want.  Someone bought the presents because they were such great "bargains."

As the idea grew, some shoppers - those spurred on by the excitement of pushing and shoving - really got into it.  In the days preceding cell phones, I knew a pair of ladies who shopped on Black Friday with walkie-talkies so they could separate to look for bargains while still keeping in touch with one another and excitedly sharing their "finds."

As the theatrics surrounding the shopping grew - such as stores swinging their doors wide open at a designated hour so that shoppers could storm the premises, problems began to emerge - so did trampling injuries and deaths.  Then, as the NRA began pushing the idea of "armed carry" everywhere at anytime, other complications developed.

Not surprisingly, the casualty totals mount each year with alarming regularity.

Last night at the biggest mall in Alabama, a twenty-one-year-old gunman began exercising his god-damned, god-given right to bear arms by opening fire in the crowded shopping center.  He shot an eighteen-year-old male twice in the stomach (probably his intended target), and also wounded a twelve-year-old female bystander.  The shooter was then killed by an off-duty sheriff's deputy who was moonlighting as a mall security guard.

Just think how much better it would have all played out if people listened to the NRA and carried guns into that mall for their own protection.  If only the two victims as well as the girl's parents had all been armed!  Those bullets flying in every possible direction would have protected everyone - you betcha they would have!

Police closed that mall in the suburbs of Birmingham early last night, but the good news - at least for holiday shoppers - is that it was able to reopen this morning.  A little blood on the floors isn't going to stop American shoppers from climbing over one another to get at those flat-screened TV's!

God bless Black Friday shopping - it has become a cherished American tradition - and a true bloodsport!  

Mar-a-Lago Is Not Really America

by Pa Rock
Thankful American

Yesterday as people across the United States began gathering with families in preparation for the Thanksgiving holiday, one very notable American showed up at the Greater Chicago Food Depository bearing bags of food destined for holiday meals that will feed some of the city's neediest families.  Barack Obama, accompanied by members of the Obama Foundation, then pitched in and helped bag potatoes.  Food at the center was headed for distribution at dozens of food banks and kitchens across Cook County.

Over the past several years President Obama and members of his First Family have routinely showed up at soup kitchens and shelters to help serve holiday meals to those in need.

Obama and his predecessor in the Oval Office, George Bush, were also known for paying surprise visits to American troops serving overseas during the holidays.

Meanwhile Donald John Trump, a politician who actively avoids dealing with people in need and people of color, and who has never visited US. troops deployed to war zones, is holed up at his Mar-a-Lago private resort in Florida - enjoying yet another taxpayer-funded vacation and golf-outing - and far, far away from the stench of any soup kitchen or military mess hall.   Trump's vacation will net a profit for him and his relatives, and it will not involve rubbing elbows with poor people - or smelly men and women in uniform, and for that he is no doubt thankful.

Thank you, President Obama, for showing us our better selves and shining a light on America's true potential for greatness - and for being a decent human being!  You are the epitome of a leader for whom an entire nation can be thankful!

Trump's 'Me First' Foreign Policy

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Donald Trump proudly crows that his administration's foreign policy is based on the concept of "America First," and he has used that guiding principle as recently as yesterday to justify his continuing support of Saudi Arabia and its royal family - even though the United States Central Intelligence Agency, under the leadership of a Trump appointee, Gina Haspell, had concluded that Saudi Arabia's crown prince bears responsibility for the killing of a journalist who was working in the United States.  Trump sees continuing commerce with the desert kingdom as being far more important than a savage murder and a direct affront to America's long and proud history of a free and unfettered press.

(And, of course, Trump's well known hatred of the press and his notion that it is the "enemy of the people" folds nicely into his minimization of the Saudi murder.)

Trump has stated his fear that if the United States overreacts to the murder of the journalist, oil prices in this country would "go through the roof."   The benefits of cheap gas, one must assume, run counter to one man's right to keep breathing.

As with all things espoused by Donald Trump, there is much, much more to the story than The Donald's simplistic explanation - drivel meant for consumption by doughy minds resting beneath red MAGA ball caps.

First, the United States is currently producing more of its own oil than at any time in its history - and - if there is a looming oil crisis, it is being brought on in major part by the United States interfering in Iran's ability to get its oil to market.  The "crisis" is not as bad as Chicken Little would have us believe, and a good part of it is being caused by our own actions.

Donald Trump claims to have no overt business dealings with the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia - but - he has also boasted in the past:  "I make a lot of money with them."

Trump may say "America First," but what he means is "Trump First."  It's all about the money, honey.

Saudi Arabia is not the only example of Donald Trump's dangerous flirtations with autocratic regimes.  As he showed during his recent visit to Europe to commemorate the end of the First World War, Trump never misses an opportunity to lick the boots of Russia's Vladimir Putin - even when it is not on his official schedule.   If Vlad is within sprinting distance, a fawning Trump will soon be at his elbow slobbering praise.

Putin's government was fairly open in its efforts to manipulate the U.S. elections in 2016.   Russian representatives met with Trump campaign officials and even with members of the Trump family - including Crown Prince Donald, Jr.  The exact amount of participation that Donald Trump (Sr.) had in the treasonous affair is, as yet, unknown, but Special Prosecutor Robert Mueller could be answering that question shortly.

But what does already appear to be established as fact is that Donald Trump has been selling apartments to wealthy Russian oligarchs for years for large sums of cash.  It is described by some as textbook examples of money laundering.   Trump and his adult children are on record as bragging about the large sums of Russian money that flow into their businesses.

And again, it's all about the money, honey.

The first rule of United States foreign policy under the leadership of Donald John Trump is this:  "Me First!"  Trump and his family take care of their own interests before they give any consideration at all as to what might be good for the rest of the country.    Visiting dignitaries are often feted at Trump resorts, and companies desiring to do business with the U.S. government often entertain on Trump properties and invest in pocketfuls of corporate memberships to exclusive Trump clubs and resorts.

It's the money, honey.

The levels of deceit, dishonesty, and pure greed emanating from the Trump White House are so abhorrent that they would even embarrass Richard Nixon - but a day of reckoning will soon be at hand.  God save and protect Robert Mueller - because he is putting America first!

Hate Has No Place at America's Thanksgiving Table

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

This is the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, a day when millions of Americans are either on the road or preparing to travel toward a family gathering.  My oldest grandson is driving across the state to see me today, and for that I am thankful.

The first formal Thanksgiving gathering in America (or at least the first Thanksgiving meal involving native Americans and immigrants from England - that occurred in Massachusetts) took place three-hundred-and ninety-seven years ago, in the autumn, near Plymouth.   It was a joint meal effort involving the passengers from the Mayflower who had survived their first year in the "new world," as well as some of the local natives.  The year was 1621.

That meal was an expression of gratitude to God for the Pilgrims safe arrival in America and an acknowledgement of their endurance and perseverance.  They, the survivors, had beaten the odds and the elements and had successfully completed one growing season.  They had much for which to thank their God.

Today America is home to many new immigrants who have come here at great personal risk to escape persecution and to enjoy the freedoms which they have heard exist in abundance in this country.  Sadly for these new immigrants, they have been greeted with a hostility that is much more savage than anything the original pilgrims from Europe had to endure.  Today's immigrants are being marshaled into tent cities and sometimes even cages as they await processing and likely deportation by a slow and cumbersome bureaucracy.  They are vilified by the press and harangued by third-rate politicians - and suffer all manner of indignities.  Sometimes newly arrived families are even torn apart by a government that seems to take far more pleasure in pursuing vengeful acts toward the new arrivals than it does in offering sanctuary and promoting peace on earth and goodwill toward people of all creeds and faiths.

So two days from now families will gather at tables across the land and offer up thanks for the many blessings which they have experienced, and that same day others will hunker down in their tents and cages and wonder if they will ever have a reason to be truly thankful.

The United States was once a beacon for freedom around the world, but over the past few years our light of liberty has steadily dimmed.  The hatred that we have mired ourselves in must stop - because if it does not, we will wind up wrecked on the rocky shoals of history with absolutely nothing to be thankful for.

Free the children from cages and foster care, reunite the immigrant families, and once again make the United States a place of welcome that is steeped in freedom and love.  When that has been accomplished, we can be free to gather at tables across the land in the spirit of true Thanksgiving - and offer thanks for our restoration as a proud and worthwhile civilization.

Hate has no place at America's Thanksgiving table.

Monday's Poetry: "Over the River and Through the Woods"

by Pa Rock
Thankful Son

Nine years ago on the Monday of Thanksgiving week I  ran a poem in this blog whose title I believed was "The Thanksgiving Poem" by Lydia Maria Child.  And while most people readily identify the piece by its first line, "Over the river and through the woods," it's official title is "The New-England Boy's Song about Thanksgiving Day," and it was first published in Flowers for Children, Vol. 2 in 1844.   The poet who first penned the lines that later became popular as a song was known for being a journalist, teacher, and abolitionist.

My earlier posting had six stanzas, but today I have included the complete twelve four-line stanzas.

Back when I first paid my respects to this work by Lydia Maria Child, I recounted the story my mother had told me about her parents gathering all of their seven children into a horse-drawn wagon on Christmas Eve for a ride through the woods to the home home of their paternal grandmother, Mary Jane Sreaves - a widow.  With tears in her eyes, Mom remembered how much they enjoyed that nighttime ride through the woods, and the kids would joyfully sing "Over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house we go!"

I dedicated that 2009 posting to my uncle, Floyd Sreaves, because he was the only one of those kids who was still alive at that time.  Uncle Floyd is gone now, so this time I would like to dedicate the poem to the entire Sreaves clan who brought music, joy, and laughter into the Buffalo Hills early in the last century. Somewhere those happy voices are still echoing through the woods, eternally young and steeped in the joy of gathering with family for a grand holiday meal.


Over the River and Through the Woods
(The New-England Boy's Song about Thanksgiving Day)

by Lydia Maria Child

Over the river, and through the wood,

To Grandfather's house we go;

the horse knows the way to carry the sleigh

through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river, and through the wood,

to Grandfather's house away!

We would not stop for doll or top,

for 'tis Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river, and through the wood—

oh, how the wind does blow!

It stings the toes and bites the nose

as over the ground we go.

Over the river, and through the wood—

and straight through the barnyard gate,

We seem to go extremely slow,

it is so hard to wait!

Over the river, and through the wood—

When Grandmother sees us come,

She will say, "O, dear, the children are here,

bring a pie for everyone."

Over the river, and through the wood—

now Grandmother's cap I spy!

Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?

Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!

Over the river, and through the wood,

with a clear blue winter sky,

The dogs do bark, and children hark,

as we go jingling by.

Over the river, and through the wood,

to have a first-rate play.

Hear the bells ring, "Ting-a-ling-ding!",

Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river, and through the wood,

no matter for winds that blow;

Or if we get the sleigh upset

into a bank of snow

Over the river, and through the wood,

to see little John and Ann;

We will kiss them all, and play snow-ball

and stay as long as we can.

Over the river, and through the wood,

trot fast, my dapple-gray!

Spring over the ground like a hunting-hound!

For 'tis Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river, and through the wood,

Old Jowler hears our bells.

He shakes his pow, with a loud bow-wow,^[1]

and thus the news he tells.

Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri

by Pa Rock
Film Fan

It's been quite awhile since I've dedicated space in this blog to talking about a movie, at least one not written by my son, but that dry spell comes to an end today.  Last night while entertaining myself in the home of a rich relative who has a Showtime subscription, I came across a recent movie that I had been wanting to watch.  I had heard some very good things about Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri, and I was not disappointed.

(Soapbox Moment:  Although the story takes place in the fictional small town of Ebbing, Missouri, and the scenery is quite rustic and beautiful, it is not Missouri - at least any part of the state that I've ever seen.  It puts me in mind of Jason Bateman's Netflix show, Ozark, which is supposedly set around the Lake of the Ozarks in central Missouri, but is actually filmed in Georgia.  Missouri has its share of breathtaking scenery, but until our state legislature begins to offer some incentives for filmmaking, like the significant tax breaks that other states provide, films about Missouri will continue to be shot elsewhere.)

The three necessary elements to any successful movie are a good script that tells an engaging tale, a capable director who can translate the script to film, and actors who can bring the characters to life.  Three Billboards easily surpasses all of those basic standards.

The film was written and directed by Martin McDonagh, the British filmmaker who also wrote and directed two other highly acclaimed movies:  In Bruges and Seven Psychopaths.  McDonagh's plots are clever, and he brings them to the screen in ways that keep the viewers focused and interested in the story that he is telling.  Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri, is a tale that pulls people into the lives of the characters and propels them along as the story unfolds.  The people who populate this make-believe town are flawed - and they are compelling.

The actors who breathe life into the primary characters are dead-on perfect in their roles.  Frances McDormand is riveting as the bitter mother who is prodding the local law enforcement community to find the person who raped and murdered her teenage daughter.  She has her tender moments, but always resets to the an angry and determined mode.   Those who liked McDormand in Fargo and Wonder Boys, will love her in this movie.

Woody Harrelson is the frustrated Chief of Police who feels that he has no logical way to proceed in investigating the rape and murder of the girl.  As a father of two young girls, he has an understanding of the sincerity and depth of the mother's rage, but he also feels that there is nothing more he can do until the rapist/killer does something stupid to reveal himself.   To add another level of emotion to Harrelson's character, he is also dying of cancer.

And then there is the town deputy portrayed by Sam Rockwell.  Rockwell, who has a long history of great performances in mediocre movies, has finally found his vehicle - and he is amazing as the somewhat doofus and bigoted deputy who still lives with his domineering mother.  All of the characters experience change and growth as the story plays out, but none moreso than Rockwell's deputy.

This movie has been described as "darkly comic" because there are some scenes that tend to evoke completely inappropriate outbursts of laughter - such as when the deputy is standing in the police station late at night reading a letter and fails to notice that the place is being firebombed - or when the ill police chief is haranguing the grieving mother and suddenly coughs blood on her, but for the most part it is a highly realistic and very compelling drama.  (However, several situations and a steady flow of seasoned language combine to make the film inappropriate for children.)

Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri is a complicated tale told in simple terms.  It drew me in with enough force to assure that I will revisit the town and its residents again at some point.   I have made multiple trips to Bruges and still learn more with each visit.

If you want to watch a film that will stay with you, like a satisfying meal, consider Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri.   It's one that will be hard to forget.

Pa Rock Loves a Parade!

by Pa Rock
Road Warrior

(I like parades so much that today I joined in two.  I guess you might call them Rocky Macy's pre-Thanksgiving Day parades!)

Rosie and I are in Kansas City after a fairly eventful four-plus-hour-ride from West Plains.  Normally these long road trips are dull, but today offered lots of diversions and things to think about along the way.

We stopped at Sonic for breakfast on the way out of town because Rosie loves their bacon and egg Breakfast Toaster sandwiches, and I got a Route 44 unsweet tea to wash down my part of the sandwich.  Then, just. about 7:00 a.m. as we were pulling out onto Interstate 63 to head north, we immediately came upon two lanes of slowed traffic with flashing emergency lights up at the head of each column of the unexpected traffic snarl.  There also seemed to be some school buses in amongst the emergency vehicles.

But both lanes kept moving behind the emergency vehicles which were also moving.  I chose the inside lane and puttered along anxious to see what type of carnage lay ahead.  About that time I began noticing that some of the cars had signs painted in their windows which were boasting about the local high school football team - the West Plains Zizzers.  Still puttering along I remembered that the team had won its District championship last week and were now headed to a competitive clash at the state level.

About two miles out of town the emergency vehicles  crossed over tot the southbound lanes and headed back to town.  The two police cars and two fire engines that had been escorting the local heroes on the start of their day-trip to Webster Groves (St. Louis area), Missouri, were heading home now that their charges were safely on the way.  Some of the other cars turned and went home as well, but not me and Rosie.  We eventually ended up in a little knot of civilian traffic between bus number two and bus number three.  Our place in the parade lasted until the three buses turned off twenty-five miles later near Cabool and headed north while Rosie and I veered west toward Springfield.

The Zizzers are scheduled to compete in the Class 4-A quarter finals at 1:00 p.m. today.  Go, Zizzers!

Fifty miles later around the little berg of Diggins, Missouri, we passed a horse-drawn cart being driven by a little old Amish man and woman who were draped in their standard heavy black wool.  The Percheron pulling the cart was about the size of a fully tricked-out Ford F-150 - but not as fast!

As we circled Springfield on the bypass we came upon a Missouri State Highway Patrolman who had a motorist pulled over, not in itself an unusual site.  But not only had the trooper pulled the poor fellow over, he also had him outside of his vehicle and walking toward the patrol car - and he was in handcuffs!  Rosie and I would both love to know the rest of that story!

North of Springfield as we were approaching Collins, Missouri, we had another close encounter with the highway patrol.   We had joined in a caravan of two other vehicles - the first of which was a faded red mini-van with Florida plates that was being driven by a person whom I suspected was a drug runner.  The second car was a white sedan that was obvously filled with a family of Baptists who were out practicing driving the route that they would take to church tomorrow.  Rosie and I were bringing up the rear, listening to Chuck Berry pumped up so loudly that the guy in the car that just pulled up behind us could have probably been tapping his non-gas-pedal foot to "Maybelline."  The fourth driver was . . .you guessed it . . . an on-duty highway patrolman!

The four cars in our parade crept along at the speed limit for five miles or so until the patrolman suddenly hit the gas and pulled out to pass me.  I assumed there must be an upcoming doughnut shop and that he would lap the entire group, but instead he pulled back in after passing me and hit his lights.  He proceeded to pull over the Baptists in the sedan - and I assume the bust was important because no sooner had he stopped than he swung his car door open and hit the ground headed toward the sedan.  Rosie and I really wanted to know what that was about, but we figured John Law might not appreciate us pulling over to watch!

We stopped in Clinton, Missouri, for a bathroom break and a drink.  The quickstop was crowded, primarily with young men wearing cammos who were buying cases of beer.  This is the second week of Missouri's firearms deer season, and those sporting hunters like to give the deer an advantage by hunting while drunk.  Guns and booze and camouflage clothing - now that's what I call having a good time in the woods!

(I remember years ago when I lived in Mountain View, Missouri, one of the local liquor stores would make huge pyramids of cases of beer in the front window with big signs that read "Deer Hunter Special."  Another story that I remember from my days in Mountain View occurred when a drunken patron at a local saloon got disturbed about something and went out to his truck and retrieved his chainsaw - which he fired up before walking back into the bar!  There were no injuries or fatalities, but the joint did close early that afternoon.  Chainsaws and beer must be almost as much fun as guns and beer!)

But I digress.

We are in Kansas City now, unpacked and relaxing.  Tim and I will go to Costco this afternoon while his family is at a swimming party, and tomorrow evening we will all enjoy a staged production "A Christmas Carol"  at the University of Missouri Kansas City campus.  It will be the third year in a row that we will have attended this annual event.

Grandson Boone is reportedly coming to my house for Thanksgiving - and I am very anxious to see him.

Happy holidays and drive safely as you head out for Thanksgiving - especially if you are driving in Missouri.  Our highway patrolmen take their jobs seriously!

California Braces for More Hot Air

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The Golden State has suffered greatly over the last couple of weeks.  First came the deadly dance club shooting in Thousand Oaks, and right on the heels of that massacre the devastating wildfires broke out and quickly became the worst in California history.  Now, as firefighters are finally beginning to get the upper hand, there are more that sixty known dead and nearly six hundred still missing.  Thousands and homes and businesses are gone, burned to their foundations, as well as thousands and thousands of acres of forest.

The state and its citizens have suffered a prolonged catastrophe of biblical proportions.  They need basics like water, food, clothing, medicine, and shelter.  What they don't need is another onslaught of hot air.  Yet according to a press release from the White House this morning, that is exactly what they are in for.  Donald Trump and his entourage will jet into California tomorrow to survey the fire damage and distribute appropriate blame.

Trump made news when he blamed the fires - almost on day one - on poor forest management.   He threatened to withhold funds from the state unless it began better land management practices - with presumably more logging and things that would benefit the timber industry.  Now, to make sure that he has been heard on the subject, Trump will fly into California and deliver his dressing down of the state in person.

Assuming he can find someone to listen to his remarks.  If Trump does come up with an audience, he may even throw out some paper towels along with his juvenile insults.

Then, with luck, he'll find someplace to play a round of golf before boarding Air Force One for a grueling cross-county flight back to the Swamp - where he will crawl back into bed, declare himself to be on "executive" time, and begin tweeting insults with wild abandon.

At that point California can finally begin the process of cleaning up.

Pelosi Set to Take One More Spin on the Vanity-Go-Round

by Pa rock
Citizen Journalist

Chuckles Schumer has already been selected to continue his leadership as the Minority Leader in the Senate, thus ensuring that there will be a continuing lack of progressive energy in that caucus for at least two more years, and it now appears as though Nancy Pelosi is pulling out all of the political stops to guarantee that she retains control of the incoming Democratic majority in the House.  And as those two old war horses plug on, it feels like nothing substantial was accomplished by the "blue wave" election.  America's lobbying brigade, the true power of government, looks to have retained an iron-fisted control - regardless of what the voters thought they were accomplishing with their naive trip to the ballot box.

True, the Democratic Party lost ground in the Senate - though exactly how much is yet to be determined, so perhaps we deserve two more years of Schumer leadership for allowing that debacle. But Democrats won the House - and they won it with a platoon of candidates who, as a group, are far more diverse than anything the House of Representatives has ever experienced in its entire history - and many of the new freshman clearly promised voters that they would not support Nancy Pelosi for Speaker of the House.  Voters wanted change, and a focal point of that change was the ouster of 78-year-old Pelosi from the party leadership.

Nancy Pelosi, who was born during the FDR administration and before the start of the Second World War, grew up in a powerful political family.  Her father was a congressman from Maryland, and her father and brother each served as Mayor of Baltimore.  She has served in Congress since the Reagan administration and was the nation's first - and so far only - female Speaker of the House of Representatives.  She bills herself as someone who gets things done and tends to endlessly take credit for the passage of the Affordable Care Act - and she does deserve a good deal of the credit of that act's passage.  

But that was then, and this is now.

Nancy Pelosi is also seen as someone whose real talent is milking money from corporate America - in much the same manner and to much the same effect as her House colleagues in the Republican leadership.  She is very much at home with lobbyists and has a talent for maintaining the status quo, even when those around her are bucking for change.

Since last week's midterm elections, Nancy Pelosi has been in her relentless "arm-twisting" mode as she performs the political machinations necessary to maintain her power grip on the House.  She is ruthless in her pursuit of the prize - the Speakership - and her minions are all over the place telling anyone who will listen how awful it would be if, after this important "change" election, a female was ousted from control of the Democratic Party in the House.  (Never mind the fact that the House of Representatives now has more female Democratic members to choose from than at any other time in that institution's entire history.)

But Pelosi, who will be eighty before the next term of Speaker would expire, will not acknowledge her advancing age or declining abilities, stages that the rest of us necessarily experience, and she clings to the ship of state like an crazed barnacle.  She won't let go, and she will not tolerate anybody trying to scrape her off of the rusting hulk of the Congress.  Change starts somewhere down the road, but it definitely does not start here, not now.

Nancy Pelosi is going to take another spin on the Vanity-Go-Round, and God help anyone who tries to stop her.  She is taking names and preparing to kick some Democratic butt.

Whippersnappers beware!

Woodrow Wilson Says "Hey"

by Pa Rock
Hoarding Historian

I hoard coins.  Every evening I go through the pocket change that I have accumulated during the day and sort it into two large jars.   One jar contains coins that are less than thirty years old, and the other jar is for older coins.   When I am no longer here, I trust that my grandchildren will divide up the treasure and go buy ice cream.

I know, as I hold coins up to the light trying to read the too-small dates, that my hoarding is a sure sign of an obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), a condition that I, as a licensed clinical social worker, am fully qualified to diagnose.  I also realize as a former history teacher and a person who is interested in trivia, that my obsession with hoarding coins is also, at least in part, the result of my gender.

Many men don't relish the idea of carrying around a pocketful of change, and they maintain a habit of dropping their change into some type of container rather than carry it around all day - and then slowly count it out when they need 87 cents to complete a purchase.  Hoarding is a habit that they inherited from their fathers and are quite likely to pass along to their sons.  My children and my nieces and nephews who inherited my father's jugs of bicentennial quarters could speak to that.  Those quarters ultimately bought a lot off ice cream!

Years ago I took a public tour of the Denver Mint, and the tour guide made that same point.   He said that one of the reasons the country needs so many new coins each year is that many Americans -  especially men - hoard their change.

As another component of my gender theory of money hoarding, I would speak for any man who has ever been in a hurry and got behind a woman in a check-out line who stopped the show to count out that 87 cents, and likely dropped one or two of the coins as she did her careful calculating.  Women (okay, some women) tend to carry their change and to use it.  (Why break a dollar bill when I probably have the correct amount right here in the bottom of my purse?). My theory is that this "thriftiness" through the frugal use of change was passed along genetically from their mothers.  There was a time, not very long ago, when men controlled the household income, and women, if they wanted to make any personal purchases, had to use their "pin" money or the small incomes that they had from minor agricultural endeavors such as selling eggs.  Every penny counted.

So, now that we have circled the barn twice, I return to my original point:  I hoard coins.

Last night as I was sorting my pocket change into the two big jars, I came upon a very worn penny.  At first glance, my old eyes told me that it was a 1970 with no mint mark - indicating that it had been minted in Philadelphia.   1970, a year that I remember too well, was forty-eight years ago, so the penny would go in the jar for older coins.  But as I prepared to drop it in with the other old coinage, something just did not feel right.  I put the penny back under the lamp and discovered that the old copper penny had actually be struck in 1920, making it ninety-eight-years-old!  The old wheat-back penny had apparently evaded coin collectors and hoarders - and other dangers like accidentally getting dropped into the Grand Canyon or an ocean - for nearly a century and had somehow found its way into my pocket.

The little penny had been circulating since before either of my parents were born.

Last week I wrote a couple of blog posts that had a focus on the First World War.  That war had ended by the time this particular penny was minted - just barely - but the war president, Woodrow Wilson was still in the White House where he was suffering from the effects of a massive stroke that he had the previous October.  Perhaps First Lady Edith Wilson, the person who seemed to have kept the presidency functioning during Wilson's last year-and-a-half in office, had this penny clutched tightly in her hand as she faced down Senator Henry Cabot Lodge (the elder) and other Republicans while they snooped around the White House trying to find out if the President was actually capable of doing his job.

Maybe Woodrow Wilson handled this very penny while he was still President - and maybe he handed it off to someone else to begin its long journey into the next millennium.  Perhaps like everything we encounter and touch in life, that little penny is the material manifestation of what was - and of what is yet to be - things that span generations.

Almost every human who walked the earth when this little penny was minted is gone now - and after my grandchildren spend it on ice cream and it disappears back into the economy, who knows what type of world it will encounter when the next hoarder nabs it?

But for me, for right now, this 1920 penny is Woodrow Wilson's way of getting in touch.  He has reached out from his world to mine - just to say "Hey!"

And it's nice to have connected with him.

Local Man Makes National News

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Mountain Home, Arkansas, (population 12,000 – give or take) is about fifty miles down the road from my town of West Plains, Missouri (population also 12,000 – give or take).  It is the first “town” of any size after crossing the Arkansas border, and it is also the county seat of Baxter County.   Mountain Home used to boast a large factory that produced medical supplies, and it still has an exceptionally fine hospital and medical community.   In fact, four of my medical providers have their offices in Mountain Home.  I was there yesterday picking up a pair of glasses – reading glasses, not shot glasses.

A young man from Mountain Home has been in the national news for the past several days, and Ozark Pride demands that whenever a local manages to standout as an example to the whole country, that his fellow locals doff their ball caps and mutter some praise. My contribution to that tradition follows.

Benjamin Craig Mattthews, age 39 ("young" by my standards), made headlines earlier in the week when he was arrested for making terroristic threats to CNN.  The police in Atlanta, Georgia, (where CNN has its headquarters) telephoned Baxter County Sheriff John Montgomery and reported that between October 31^stand November 2^nd CNN had received more than forty threatening calls from the same telephone number.  The cell phone number turned out to belong to Matthews, and the same voice, supposedly his, was featured in each and every call.

Matthews’ primary focus at CNN appears to have been black journalist Don Lemon, a frequent target of Donald Trump.   Matthews reportedly threatened to beat up Lemon in one of the calls, and he was abusive to an operator at CNN during another call.   On the second day of his telephone onslaught, Benjamin Craig Matthews is said to have made six calls to the television news network in a span of twenty-three minutes.

During one of his telephone tirades Matthews asked to be directed to Lemon’s “dead body hanging from a tree,” and at another point he asked the operator who took his call to help him kill Don Lemon.

During an investigation of Matthews this week it was learned that he also made calls to U.S. Representative Maxine Waters, U.S. Senator Chuck Schumer, Stormy Daniels’ attorney – Michael Avenatti, the Washington Speakers’ Bureau, and Planned Parenthood – most of which have been targets of Donald John Trump at one time or another.

Benjamin Craig Matthews is currently being held in the Baxter County Jail where he is unable to come up with $15,000 bond.   He is facing five counts of terroristic threatening, four misdemeanor counts of second-degree terroristic threatening, and nine misdemeanor counts of harassing communications.

Jail is undoubtedly an inconvenience to our local celebrity, especially if the deputies took his phone. But life behind bars is just a temporary setback.  Sooner or later the local GOP will swoop in and get him a seat in the state legislature – or Congress.  

Here in the hills we take care of our own!

MAGA!

(From a more measured perspective, people like this do pose a very real threat to social order and should not be written off as harmless cranks.  At the very least when Baxter County gets tired of giving Benjamin Craig Matthews free meals in jail and decides to send him quietly back into the hills, he should be made to give up his guns and his telephone until he undergoes a thorough mental evaluation.  Otherwise, the next time Mr. Matthews makes the national news, his story may include a body count.  Just sayin’ . . .)

Monday's Poetry: "Over There"

by Pa Rock
History Teacher

There are perhaps three distinct pieces of writing, one poem and two songs, that form the lyrical backdrop of World War I, at least from an American perspective.  The poem, "In Flanders Fields," was penned by a Canadian physician and describes a cemetery for Allied Troops in the fields of the Flanders area of Belgium, where poppies blow between the crosses, row on row.   I remember being very moved by the poem when I first came across it in a high school literature class.  I highlighted "In Flanders Fields" in this space in 2010.

"Mademoiselle from Armentieres" (hinky, dinky parley-vous) originated somewhere back around the 1840's and the composer of the song  is unknown.   It did however, reach its height of popularity during World War I, and many American doughboys who were stationed in France returned home singing it's various verses.

Another song which became a hit with the troops and the American public was written by George M. Cohen specifically to inspire a patriotic fervor for the United States entry into the war effort.  Cohen published "Over There" in 1917 just as our troops were deploying to engage in the Great War, and it became a musical standard for America's part in the war effort.  Everybody quickly learned the words, and it sold more than two million copies in sheet music.

Here is how George M. Cohen inspired a nation to war:


Over There
by George M. Cohen

Johnny, get your gun, get your gun, get your gun.
Take it on the run, on the run, on the run.
Hear them calling you and me,
Every Son of Liberty.
Hurry right away, no delay, go today.
Make your Daddy glad to have had such a lad.
Tell your sweetheart not to pine,
To be proud her boy's in line.

Johnny, get your gun, get your gun, get your gun.
Johnny, show the "Hun" you're a son-of-a-gun.
Hoist the flag and let her fly
Yankee Doodle do or die.
Pack your little kit, show your grit, do your bit.
Yankee to the ranks from the towns and the tanks.
Make your mother proud of you
And the old red-white-and-blue.

Chorus:

Over there, over there,
Send the word, send the word over there
That the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming
The drums rum-summing everywhere.
So prepare, say a prayer
Send the word, send the word to beware - 
We'll be over, we're coming over,
And we won't come back till it's over, over there.


And for a look at the darker side of the bloody conflict that eventually became known as World War I, I again recommend "Johnny Got His Gun," a novel about the savagery of war by Dalton Trumbo.  Read it if you dare!