Trump Claims Ignorance on Russian Bounties

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

News broke last Friday of yet another scandal involving the Trump administration, this one fueled by allegations so outrageous that they could potentially bring down the beleaguered government of Donald Trump.    The New York Times claimed to have proof that the Russian government had placed bounties on the lives of American service men and women serving in Afghanistan, and that Donald Trump, the President of the United States of America, had known about the bounties that Russia offered to Taliban radicals for at least the past few months - and done nothing about it.

Trump, for his part, claimed ignorance of the matter and took off to play golf at one of his personal resorts.  For a distractor, he also tweeted a video clip of one of his supporters yelling "white power" at Black Lives Matter demonstrators from the comfort of a golf cart.

But Donald Trump and his enablers in the White House quickly learned that this latest scandal, the one involving Russian bounties on the lives of members of the American military, was going to be harder to evade than some others had been.

The internet immediately caught fire with memes about supposed favors that Trump has done for Russia's Vladimir Putin over the years and the fact that many see Trump as somehow beholden to the Russian leader and reluctant to do anything that would anger him.  There was a lot of focus on Trump's recent attempt to bring Putin back into the group of world leaders once known as the G-8, but now called the G-7 after the group expelled Putin from its membership.   The United States was due to host the next gathering of the group, and Trump was insisting that Putin be invited.

Now critics were quick to point out that Trump wanted to elevate Putin back into that global leadership group even though he (Trump) knew - or should have known - that Putin was paying hard cash to members of the Taliban to murder Americans in uniform.

But Trump was steadfast in his claims that neither he nor Vice President Mike Pence had been briefed on the matter by American intelligence agencies.

That denial, however, raises other questions - like if our American intelligence system is so dysfunctional that it fails to tell the President about a credible threat from Russia against the lives of American military members, what is being done to fix the system?  So far there have been no official concerns expressed against intelligence agencies over Trump's claim that they failed to brief him on the matter.   Why not?

Or, whether Trump knew about the problem before the story broke or not, what has be done since Friday to get at the truth and to bring heat on Russia for this egregious act of potential harm to members of our military?   Trump is the commander-in-chief, after all.  Trump's main response so far has been to claim that the entire matter might simply be a "hoax," no doubt on the order of the coronavirus "hoax" from a couple of months ago.

Trump seemed to think that he could disappear on the golf course for awhile and this story would quietly go away - as he had hoped a few months earlier that the positive coronavirus cases would disappear.  But that wishful thinking was not to prevail, then or now, and instead things seem to be getting worse.  Some news reports indicated that that Russia has actually paid out bounties for some American deaths in recent months, and today the Associated Press ran a story that claims Trump was briefed on the matter by his former National Security Adviser, John Bolton, in March of 2019 - a full year earlier than was originally thought.

And the spreading sludge gets wider and deeper, and still Trump denies having any knowledge of the matter before the original story broke last Friday.  House Speaker Nancy Pelosi is demanding that the entire House of Representatives be briefed on the matter by the Trump administration, and Trump has responded by  having a private session with some Republican members of the House.  Today he will bend a bit further to the political pressure and meet with House Majority Leader Steny Hoyer and the Democratic Chairs of eight relevant House committees.

It's all very one-drip-at-a-time, but with the likelihood that the floodgates are about to open whether Trump is ready for a rush of bad news or not.  Ignoring threats to the lives of American military men and women is something that cannot be covered-up or tolerated.  Trump has a scandal of the first water on his hands - and it is not going to just go away.

Trump has been protecting and advocating for the interests of Russia's Putin for more than three years.  Perhaps were are on the verge of finally learning why.

Monday's Poetry: "Democracy"

by Pa Rock
Voter

Missouri is a Trump state, though it pains me greatly to admit it.  It is one of those states that fights the movement toward making it easier to vote.  While I, on the other hand, am a person who relishes my right to vote and does not want to spend time in long lines listening to old people spout conspiracy theories and racist nonsense while waiting on my turn to cast a ballot.

Missouri traditionally allows absentee voting for a small variety of reasons, including one where the prospective voter tells the county clerk or a member of their staff that they will be "out of town" on Election Day.  That is essentially the process that Donald Trump and all of his politico underlings use to avoid flying home to vote on Election Day.  Generally I go to my county clerk's office a couple of weeks before the election, look her in the eye and tell her that I will be out of town on the date of the upcoming election, and vote an absentee ballot while I am in her office.

But this year, because I have been so faithful in staying home due to the rampaging virus and a broken shoulder, I really wanted to minimize the time that I would spend around others while voting.  I went on-line to the Missouri Secretary of State's website to see what the requirements were going to be for voting in the state's primary on August 4th.  There I learned that I qualified on two fronts for voting absentee by mail, and that I would not even have to have my ballot notarized in order to use the mail-in process for either of those reasons.

The reasons that I can vote from home with relative ease for this one upcoming election is that I am in a couple of "at risk" categories for catching the coronavirus:  I am sixty-five years or age or older, and I am diabetic.  Having had major heart surgery less than ten years ago,  I probably could have qualified  under "Have serious heart conditions" as well.

So I filled out the on-line form - easy peasy - which had to be turned in to the local county clerk.  Her office is less than two miles from my house - about half the distance that it is to my local polling place - so I dropped it by after a doctor's visit last Wednesday afternoon.  The clerk's office was sealed relatively tightly due to the virus, so I slid my application through a slot in a window, and a very nice lady took it back to her registration books to check the status.  Then she told me that all was in order and that I would receive a ballot in the mail in about three days.  I asked it I could mark it and return it as soon as it arrived, and she assured me that I could.

My ballot arrived this past Saturday afternoon.  I will mark it this morning and send it back in today's mail.  The good people in the clerk's office even sprang for the postage!

I chose to receive a Democratic Party primary ballot.  (Voters in Missouri do not register by political party affiliation, which means that our state has "open primaries" where voters may choose any party's ballot when they vote in a primary election - and sometimes voters intentionally choose a ballot that is contrary to their core political beliefs just to mess with the other guys.  I've even done that myself, but not this time.)

I was pleased to see that Democrats fielded candidates for every office on the ballot.  That is not always the case in extremely rural southern Missouri, so a full ballot is an indication of some enthusiasm within the party ranks.    (There were actually only two positions in which multiple candidates filed, so political "choice" remains limited - at least for Democrats.)

However, my primary interest in this particular election is not with the candidates.  Missouri has one Constitutional Amendment on the ballot that is of extreme importance, and that is what has me fired up.

Our legislature has fought the notion of expanding Medicaid for years, and now that we have a Republican governor, he too does everything he can to insure that Mssourians do not have access to affordable health care.  But Missourians have a long history of defeating redneck positions through direct action at the polls.

Years ago our legislature passed a "concealed carry" handgun bill,  but citizens took that to the polls and defeated it.  A couple of years later the legislature passed it again over the will of the people.  And then more recently the Missouri legislature made our state a "Right to Work" state, a union-busting measure designed to impair the earning ability of workers in the state.   That too, went before the people who proceeded to correct the state legislature's ham-handed attempt to defeat the notion of unions in Missouri.

In 2018 Missourians passed the "Clean Missouri" Act - with 62% in favor - a measure to make congressional redistricting a non-partisan affair, and the Republican majority in the legislature and the Republican governor were predictably incensed.  Drawing congressional districts after each census is a big political perk for the party in power - and they did not want to lose that advantage to some "fair" process.  So this year Republicans have been at work trying to draft a Constitutional Amendment with language confusing enough that it could fool voters into undoing what they did in 2018.  That measure will be on the November general election ballot where some feel that it will be used as a cudgel by GOP partisans who will paint the original "Clean Missouri" as somehow being "pro-immigrant."

It's a never-ending battle between the people of Missouri and their elected legislators, with the people being far more progressive than their "leaders."  On August 4th, after years of our legislature refusing to expand Medicaid, the people will finally have their say - and I will have my say today!

Missouri needs to expand Medicaid in order to bring affordable health care to more of the state's citizens - and to insure the viability and sustainability of the state's small hospitals and rural clinics - and I am voting to make that happen.

And, just to pour a little more salt in that wound - I am casting the vote using the US Mail!  It's a process called "democracy," and the more people who get access to it, the better it works.

Here is what Missouri poet Langston Hughes had to say about democracy:

Democracy
by Langston Hughes

Democracy will not come 
Today, this year
Nor ever
Through compromise and fear.
I have as much right 
As the other fellow has 
To stand
On my two feet
And own the land.
I tire so of hearing people say,
Let things take their course.
Tomorrow is another day.
I do not need my freedom when I'm dead. 
I cannot live on tomorrow's bread.
Freedom
Is a strong seed 
Planted
In a great need.
I live here, too. 
I want freedom 
Just as you.

Coronavirus Comes to the Christmas City

by Pa Rock
Native Son

A friend forwarded a news article yesterday that she knew would be of interest to me.   It focused on my hometown of Noel, Missouri, a small community in extreme southwest Missouri that has billed itself as the “Christmas City of the Ozarks” since the 1930’s, and for many years during the mid-twentieth century served as a mecca for weekend tourists and summer vacationers from Kansas City and Tulsa.    Today the little town, which sits along the Elk River – the first floatable river south of Kansas City - still does a brisk summer tourist business with canoe rentals and camping.

But back in the 1960’s as the expanding interstate highway system began giving tourists more options, Noel’s city fathers realized that they needed to expand their economic base if there were to be jobs in the community to keep the town’s young people from drifting off to the cities to seek their fortunes.  Eventually the town leaders were able to attract a major industry to move to town and open a large plant.  That corporation was Ralston-Purina (owned by the Danforth family of St. Louis), and the industry that it brought to town was poultry processing.

The “chicken plant” as it quickly became known, brought jobs, and paychecks, and lots and lots of pollution.  It despoiled the local waterways and fouled the air.  The water was dirty, the air stank, and the tourists left for good. The “chicken plant,” however, endured.  The Danforths eventually sold it to Red Hudson, one of their in-laws.  Red and his Danforth wife lived primarily in Scotland and left much of the management of their business assets to others.  The pollution continued.

I worked briefly at the Noel “chicken plant” during the time it was owned by Hudson Foods.  The way it generally worked was that chickens were hauled into the back of the plant each night by large trucks stacked high with chickens stuffed into very small crates.  They were killed in the back of the plant and stripped of their feathers.  The dead naked birds were then dumped into long cylindrical metal tanks called “chillers” where they tumbled in cold water until they were chilled and ready for processing..  

Cold birds constantly poured out of one end of the chillers where they were grabbed by people called “hangers” and hung by their back legs onto a moving belt that circled throughout the plant.  Hangers were constantly lifting two birds with each hand and hanging them onto hooks extending from the moving belt.   (If the hangers fell behind, the belt had to be stopped, production slowed and people - usually the hangers - lost their jobs.).  The belt then moved the birds about the plant where various people did various things to “process” them.  The “chicken plant” was a crowded work environment, and many of the jobs were literally elbow-to-elbow.

(One of my jobs at the “chicken plant” was that of a hanger.  At another point I sorted giblets (livers, hearts, and gizzards) at a special table and weighed and bagged them.)

Several years ago Hudson’s sold their Noel plant to Tyson’s Foods which is headquartered in Benton County, Arkansas.  Benton County is adjacent to McDonald County, Missouri, where Noel is located.  Under Tyson’s management much of the labor force for the small plant was brought in from south Texas, Mexico, some Pacific Islands, and Africa – and the character of the town began undergoing substantial changes.  The largest building in town, for instance, which had once housed the community’s hardware store, became “The African Store” and now sells items and foodstuffs to that particular community.  Another large building is now an Hispanic grocery store called El Mercado.

Many of the locals, the one’s the plant was brought to town in order to keep, have moved on.  The new arrivals tend to crowd into rental properties in order to maximize their low wages and save as much money as possible.  Close living and working conditions brought about a situation that was ideal for the spread of disease.

Which brings me to the article that my friend forwarded yesterday about Noel’s “chicken plant.”   Apparently some employees had gone to their own physicians or local health agencies and been tested for the coronavirus – and eighty reported to plant management that they had tested positive.  This week the plant tested the remainder of its employees and learned that of 1,142 employees at the local facility, 371 tested positive for the virus – with nearly eighty percent of those being asymptomatic.

If the Noel plant follows the pattern established in other meat-packing and poultry plants with high infection rates, the infected workers will be sent home, replacements will be brought in, and production will continue.  We are in a “recovery” mode, after all.

But social distancing is all but impossible in places like chicken and meat-packing plants, and workers, when they aren’t at the plants working, are often mired in economic situations that necessitate crowding and unhealthy living arrangements.    (Sometimes housing and even beds are used in “shifts.”)

So all “fixes” to this important part of the food supply chain will remain temporary at best until a proven vaccine against the coronavirus makes its way to market and is widely available.  

We may be on the road to recovery, but it’s a long damned road and the potholes are plentiful!

Crimes Against Humanity

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

I am not a lawyer nor have I had much in the way of any formal training regarding the law, but having worked many years in state child protection I did manage to spend an inordinate amount of time in the offices of county sheriffs and in courtrooms - so I respect the law without being intimidated by it.

I know that there are several broad categories of criminal activities which are addressed by the law.   Much of what makes its way into court revolves around crimes against property, things like vandalism, arson, and theft.   All of those seem to be particularly important to wealthy people who are much more involved in writing the laws than poor people, and who expect the law to protect their possessions - which are visible signs of their status in society.

I also know that there are crimes against the state such as dodging the draft and the deliberate failure to pay taxes.

Another broad category of criminal activity involves crimes against persons:  assault, incest, rape, extortion, kidnapping, human trafficking, and even murder.  Crimes against people are usually seen as more serious than crimes against property,  and while fewer cases of crimes against people may wind up in court, judgments in those cases are often more substantial and can sometimes even be so severe as to result in execution.

And then there is an overarching category of crimes against people that involves crimes against entire groups of people, or crimes against humanity.  These encompass activities  that impair or eliminate entire populations, things like hate crimes, enslavement, disappearances, and genocide.  Increasingly legislatures are beginning to see crimes motivated by race and gender bias as hate crimes, and laws are being enacted which provide for enhanced or extended punishments for criminal activities that are prosecuted as hate crimes. Some states are even codifying certain "crimes against humanity."

There have been a few stories in the news over the past few days that have gotten me to thinking about broad types of crime.   Donald Trump, who is in full campaign mode, has been feverishly trying to divide America over race, and he is using the recent Black Lives Matter demonstrations to stir his racist rabble.  When a group of military leaders recently said that they would have no problem with changing the names of several U.S. military installations that were named for Confederates, Trump was quick to state that he would not allow that to happen on his watch.  Trump was also quick to send in federal troops to police peaceful demonstrations - some of which escalated due to the addition of military troops to the already tense situations.

Now, today, Trump has signed an executive order, that is rooted in the protection of property.   The order directs Attorney General Barr to prosecute to the "fullest extent of the law" anyone who defaces or tries to remove a monument on federal land.   Trump is, of course, talking about black protesters, or their white accomplices, damaging, destroying, or removing monuments erected to heroes of the Old South, many of whom are still revered by his racist base.  An executive order is one more legal tool to keep a subjugated people in what many would see as "their place," and the laws have been stacked against these subjugated peoples since page one on day one.

But it's not just property that concerns the Trump administration.  They have been mistreating families along our southern border for the entire time the administration has been in office, and today many families - and children - remain in stark holding cells where they are routinely denied outside visitors, adequate legal safeguards, hygienic supplies such as toothbrushes, and appropriate medical care.  Adults and children have died while in the "care" of the US Customs and Border Patrol.  Yesterday a federal judge ruled that - because of the pandemic - children in CPB detention facilities - along with their parents - must be released to COVID-free sponsors by mid-July.   The Trump administration has a history of not complying with judicial orders that it doesn't like, so the status of those caged children is still up in the air.

Also just in the past couple of days with regard to the pandemic:  the Trump administration has announced plans to close the last 13 federal coronavirus testing sites (of an original 41) by the end of this month - just days away.  The remaining federal testing sites are in five states, one of which is Texas. a state that is currently dealing with a massive rise in new cases.  Trump tweeted his thoughts on testing this past Tuesday with this gem:

"Cases are going up in the U.S. because we are testing far more than any other country, and ever expanding.  With smaller testing we would show fewer cases!" 

Others, of course, would argue that with smaller testing we would know less about where and how the virus is spreading and would be at greater risk.  But Trump is focused on a national "recovery" before the election, so the numbers must come down, by hook or by crook.

And then yesterday the Trump administration filed a brief with the U.S. Supreme Court to end Obamacare, a callous act act would take healthcare away from 20 million Americans during the time of an escalating pandemic.  The end of Obamacare would also bring about the closure of many small hospitals and clinics and would deny real healthcare to wide swaths of rural America.

So, to briefly recap, Donald Trump, the President of the United States, is focused on protecting statues and monuments that glorify a failed historical cause, while at the same time - and during the worst medical crisis to hit our country in more than a century - is hellbent on keeping migrant families in cages, limiting the amount of testing that is available to diagnose the pandemic virus and disease so that the total number of cases will appear lower than it actually is, taking access to affordable healthcare away from twenty million Americans outright, and  making access to healthcare harder to achieve for countless untold others.

Protecting the statues and monuments is clearly a case of  generating "law" to protect property, and the caging of families and children, the reduction of pandemic testing capability, and creating obstacles to keep people form getting medical care go well beyond the bounds of crimes against individuals.

Trump's actions with regard to families in cages - immigrants -  and the denial of adequate healthcare to poor and middle class Americans represent crimes intentionally directed at broad classes of people - and those are crimes against humanity!

Donald Trump has failed to represent much of the country, and he has done so intentionally and with malice aforethought.   His refusal to insist on even minimum safeguards during a worldwide pandemic has endangered and caused the deaths of thousands of American citizens - and his insidious disregard for other people has also served to prolong the global crisis.

Trump needs to resign immediately, and he needs to answer for both his betrayal of office and his betrayal of humanity in an international court of law.

There Go Trump's Neighborhoods

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

New York City has begun showing its support of the "Black Lives Matter" movement by painting the words "Black Lives Matter" in large yellow letters on several streets in various locations around the city.   Each large painting covers about a city block.  This week, in an obvious attempt to twist the tail of the city's most famous non-resident slumlord, Mayor De Blasio announced that one of the locations where the slogan would be painted should be along 5th Avenue - just outside of Trump Tower.

Right on cue, Trump, himself a well known racist whose father was arrested at a Klan rally in Queens, New York, on Memorial Day weekend in 1927 for "failure to disperse," exploded.  The former New Yorker who now claims Florida as his official residence - but continues to vote by mail from Washington, DC - went on one of his famous Twitter tantrums and made a blatantly false claim that the BLM movement had made threats of harm against New York police, that the mayor was defacing a beautiful part of 5th Avenue (as if Trump's "tower" didn't!), and that the police were furious about the plans to paint the street.

(There is also a citizen movement afoot to rename that section of 5th Avenue for former president Barack Obama.)

Some felt that Trump's hostile reaction might have much to do with perceived property values as it did with his feelings of injustice either toward himself or the city police department - an institution which he appeared to be trying to incite.

Score one for De Blasio.

New York City seems to be taking its cue from Washington, DC, where Mayor Muriel Bowser has also been busy having her city crews paint "Black Lives Matter" at various locations on the streets of our nation's capital - including new signage on 16th Street in Washington DC, just outside of the White House grounds and Lafayette Park which declares that area - in very bold lettering - to now be "Black Lives Matter Plaza."  "Black Lives Matter" has also been painted on that section of the street.

The church where Trump held his bible stunt a few weeks ago is now officially located on "Black Lives Matter" Plaza, but the White House remains at its old address of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue - at least for now.

But Trump regards it all as his own personal neighborhood, like the section of 5th Avenue in New York City that runs in front of his pretentious and gaudy "tower," and he predictably erupted at Mayor Bowser's insolence.   Trump referred to the Mayor of Washington, DC, as "incompetent" and claimed that she had a budget that was out of control.  The mayor, who has never flown to Florida to play golf on her city's money, did not respond directly to Trump's taunts, but she did call for federal troops to be removed from the streets of her city.

Score one for Bowser.

And so it goes.  Donald Trump, who once seemed to believe that he ruled all aspects of the land through some sort of Divine Right of Monarchs' license, now seems to be getting his comeuppance  at every turn.  Is it any wonder that he jets off to Florida whenever he can, a place where is safe and secure - and remains well respected - at least for now?

Trump Does Phoenix: Sieg Heil!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

I miss my friends in Phoenix, miss them dearly, but there is not an army in hell that could ever force me to move back there.  I miss my friends, but not enough to endure the blistering heat, the god-awful dust, the scorpions - and, most of all, the pervasive and powerful ignorance among certain elements of the population, and particularly the leathery, close-minded, old farts who run on racist fears and alcohol.

But it's not just the elderly who suck the humanity out of the desert metropolis, as Donald Trump proved this week.    There are also lots of young people in the Phoenix area who stand ready to express their own racism and hatred.

After Trump's sparsely attended rally in Tulsa last weekend, he was anxious to parade himself in front of a packed venue where he could  shout his nonsense to the masses and bask in the glory of them shouting it back to him.  The campaign decided that the next event would be for its "Youth" component, and they selected the "Dream City" megachurch in the Cave Creek area of Phoenix for the rally.  Dream City has an auditorium that holds 3,000 - or roughly half of the people who showed up at the Trump fiasco in Tulsa.

To help encourage people to come to their church for the Trump rally, church officials put out the word that they had installed an air-purification system that would remove 99% of COVID from the air. - and that those attending would be perfectly safe from the disease.  However, before the event actually took place, those same officials changed their tune and admitted that their air-purification system would not protect people against "coughs and sneezes."  They also had to admit that they had not known the difference between "coronavirus" (the virus) and COVID-19 (the resulting disease).

So, it wasn't 99% effective, but perhaps God would protect them anyway.  It was His house, after all - even if it was big and tacky.

And so they came, three thousand strong, young (and very white) Barbies and Kens, and they packed the auditorium, and they roared at Trump's racist "Kung flu" line, and they shouted back "Lock them up!" when Trump whined about Black Lives Matter protesters.  It was almost more joyful hate than their young hearts could stand!

The excitement was electrical, the noise was deafening, and racial animus ruled the day.  It was, in many ways, reminiscent of the Hitler Youth rallies that happened in Germany during the 1930's and 1940's.  Trump was their fuhrer and they were his storm-troopers in the making - young, and bold, and ready to commit their very lives for the glories of the Fatherland.

And they may get their chance to do just that.

The campaign did not take the temperatures of people as they entered the auditorium.  There was no social distancing, and there were almost no face masks in use.  The only thing that attendees had going for them, besides the Trump bombast, were the wavering claims of the air-purification company - and perhaps a slim hope that God actually does like abominable megachurches after all.

Arizona is one of several southern and western states where confirmed cases of COVID-19 are rising sharply, and it is a dangerous and ridiculous time to be hosting any large indoor rallies, especially ones that openly flaunt all safety precautions and encourage shouting by those in attendance.  But that's the way Trump rolls.   And yes, young people are less likely to become seriously ill and die from the disease, but some do - and all of their grandparents are at risk.  The Trump campaign is making a bad situation worse, and placing thousands of lives needlessly at risk.

But it's not about them, it's all about him - Donald John Trump - and when people get sick and die from attending his hate-fests, Donald John sleeps well and secure in the knowledge that he "bears no responsibility whatsoever!"

(But he should.   And any church that allows its facilities to be used for large, partisan rallies should definitely be paying taxes!)

Doc Rock Is On the Case!

by Pa Rock
Contrarian

I'm not a doctor, but if I wasn't older than Methuselah, had a haircut within the last five months, wasn't sporting a twenty-four day scraggly beard, and didn't have a Jackie Gleasonesque gut - I could probably play one on TV.

Today I had my first visit with my orthopedic specialist since June 1st, the day after I broke my "arm."  I put the word "arm" in quotes because on that fateful afternoon when I tried to step backward out of the raised flower bed in which I had been working - and landed hard on the ground, on my back, with a loud thud and a crack - I knew - KNEW - while lying there on the ground with pain shooting all around my upper body, that I had broken my "shoulder."

After finally stabilizing enough to get up and make my way to the house, and being home alone, I phoned for an ambulance which took me to the local hospital's emergency room.  There I was promptly x-rayed and a bone specialist who happened to be the ER attending physician that afternoon marched into the ward where I was at and announced that I had a broken arm.

"Are you sure it's not my shoulder?"  I asked.  He assured me that it was a straight fracture of the arm bone just below the shoulder.  Then he fitted me with a sling and sent me to see the bookkeeper, and eventually I rode home in an Uber with an unmasked driver.   (It was as though the Gods were determined to get me one way or another that fateful afternoon!)

The next day I got in to see an orthopedist at the local clinic.  She read the x-ray, told me I had a broken arm, and gave me a thing that I call a "contraption" but she called a "girdle" to stabilize my arm and act as a sling.  At no time did anyone offer to let me see the x-rays, and I was still in too much shock to demand my patient rights.

I left that first appointment feeling that I had been hustled in and out, and perhaps hustled while I was there as well.  I was particularly put off by the fact that of all of the many staff members that I had seen while I was there, only two - the doctor and nurse who dealt with me - were wearing face masks.  A few days later I mentioned to my personal physician that the local orthopedic clinic didn't seem to realize the importance of masking, and I could see that he was surprised and bothered by that fact.

(While I was at the clinic on that initial visit I overheard one other elderly masked patient ask a nurse why people weren't wearing masks, and she replied that they did not have to, but that they had been given permission to wear masks if they wanted to.  Apparently only two wanted to wear the standard protective face masks on that afternoon.)

Yesterday afternoon I got the reminder call about my appointment for this morning - which would be only my second visit to the clinic.  As part of my pre-visit instructions I was told to wear a mask to the appointment.  At that point I asked the caller if she would also be wearing a mask.  She replied that she would.  "And how about the rest of the staff?" I queried further.  "Sir," she assured me, "We will all be wearing masks."

And when I got there this morning all of the receptionists, doctors, nurses, and physical therapists that I saw - and there were several - were wearing face masks.  Even the x-ray technician had her face mask on.  It was like the clinic had suddenly turned away from Fox News for its medical management information.  I felt much safer - and like I was in the midst of medical professionals!

When the doctor came in, she asked if I was improving and I told her that I was.  She made one adjustment to the contraption and then said that she would like to see me again in three to four weeks - and turned to leave.   But I was too quick for her, and I started letting the questions fly.   How long would I be bound in the contraption?  (Eight weeks.)  From today or from the day I broke my "arm"?   (Eight to twelve weeks.)  Can I try sleeping on my side?  (You won't like it.). Can I see the x-rays?

And she brought up the shots from both visits on her computer - pictures that clearly showed a vertical break through my shoulder - above the end of the big arm bone.  I noted the discrepancy, and the doctor explained that "the shoulder is part of the arm."  (And by that logic, I guess that if I fall down and bust my knee cap I have broken by leg - or a broken toe is the same thing as a broken foot?)  But again, I don't even play a doctor on TV, much less have a medical license!

Later the physical therapist started talking about my broken "arm" and, after learning that he had not even seen the x-rays, we had our own discussion about shoulders and arms.  He did provide some information on home exercises that I could be using - and he seemed to think that I might be able to shed the contraption by the time of my next visit in three to four weeks.  Then, as he was nervously edging toward the door, I hit him with the big question.  If I was unable to drive because of the broken "shoulder," why could I not be regarded as "homebound" and be eligible for some homebound medical assistance like physical therapy and help with hygienic chores?  He muddled through a response that never answered the question - and fled.

So the long and the short of it is that I have now had a second visit to the orthopedic clinic, and while I didn't get everything that I wanted, I did do a much better job of advocating for myself this time than on my previous visit - and I also feel like our local orthopedic clinic is a safer environment than it was just a few weeks ago.

And whatever bone I broke is still broken, but - according to my self-diagnosis (which seems to be what the doctor used) - it is getting better.

Doc Rock is on the case!

Lucky Jim

by Pa Rock
Reader

Novelist and poet Kingsley Amis was born to a working class family in London in 1922, but by the time of his death seventy-three years later he was a highly esteemed British man of letters who had been knighted by the Queen.  Amis described himself as being a graduate of World War II and Oxford University.  Being from a working class background - and lacking the advantages of having a family of means - he was able to attend the prestigious Oxford primarily through hs own academic achievements and abilities, and his modest family background undoubtedly placed limitations on his social movements through the university.

One of Amis's few close friends at Oxford was a fellow student named Philip Larkin,  Larkin also eventually became a successful novelist and poet.

Kingsley Amis began his first novel, "Lucky Jim," in 1951 when he was only twenty-eight-years-old.  He dedicated the book to Philip Larkin, and Larkin played an active role in editing the book.  Over the years some readers and critics have felt that "Lucky Jim" was autobiographical in nature and that Amis was essentially describing his own life in the exploits of the book's central character, Jim Dixon.  Both the author and the character were lecturers at out-of-the-way provincial universities, and both felt that life was on the verge of passing them by, and that they would forever be stuck in their mundane circumstances.

Others thought that the character of Jim Dixon was more of an intentional description of Philip Larkin than it was of Amis.   In the bright light of hindsight, Dixon may have been a representation of both Amis and Larkin  at that particularly formative stage of their lives.

"Lucky Jim," which was finally published in 1954, is today regarded as a comedic classic of British literature.

Jim Dixon, a.k.a. "Lucky Jim," was a lecturer of Midevil history at an out-of -the-way provincial college during the year or so that the novel encompasses.  His position was tenuous.  He was either at the first step of a long climb into the upper levels of academia, or he was, as he somewhat suspected, already at his educational pinnacle and preparing for a grand slide downward into public school teaching.  Throughout his year of minor adventures, Jim seemed to sense that his career as a university lecturer would be short-lived, and at times he appeared to be actively sabotaging the future that he wanted so desperately to attain.

Jim had a small circle of friends at the university, some of whom seemed to be fostering his success and others who came across as working against him.  He had a love interest of sorts, a neurotic professor named Margaret, who tried to control Jim's life - and the lives of others near her - through acts of high drama, such as a very sketchy attempted suicide.  Jim also played up to his supervising professor, Dr. Welch, and ingratiated himself to the elder professor by attending social events with him and his family and even spending occasional weekends in their country home.

Jim enjoyed drinking, a habit which led to some embarrassing situations, and he also liked to smoke.  At one point while visiting in Professor Welch's home, he had the predictable misfortune to fall asleep in his bedroom while intoxicated - and smoking - and woke up to find that he had burned a large hole in the bed clothes.  Instead of owning up to his reckless behavior, Jim decided to cut the charred edges away from the holes in the sheets and blankets, and then to remake the bed so that the damaged bedding would be harder to notice.  His cigarette had also burned across a bedside table, and he managed to hide that table in a storeroom that he discovered in the house.

The smoking-in-bed story, and the tale of a lecture given while intoxicated, and a lengthy description of an elder professor driving a car while not minding other traffic, served as the comedic fodder for this novel.  Yes, there were several places where I found myself laughing out loud, but for the most part the story was more generally amusing than it was ribald.

"Lucky Jim" is a comedy of manners, a genteel period piece that reflects the times as they were in the lower branches of academia during the years just following World War II.  The Jim Dixon whose life is revealed in the book's pages is undoubtedly representative of Kingsley Amis, Philip Larkin, and all of the other "angry young men" who were trying to both push and pull British literature - and British thought - into the light of the 20th century.

"Lucky Jim" is an important novel for its clever reflection of academic life in post-World War II Britain - but one reading will certainly suffice.

Monday's Poetry: "Passing a Truck Full of Chickens at Night on Highway Eighty"

by Pa Rock
Farmer in Summer

My heart is heavy this morning, laden with one of the bitter truths of rural living.  A farm, especially a small farm, is comprised of populations of animal life in which the creatures are dependent not only upon their own wiles and those of their comrades, but also upon the diligence and hard work of their humans.  Unfortunately, there are always many predators standing ready to snuff out the lives of animals on a farm, especially if they are small and young and essentially defenseless.

One month ago yesterday I drove to the feed store and picked up twenty-seven baby chicks that I had ordered several months prior.  The little chicks were one day old.  I brought them back to my little farm and gently placed them into the special room in the chicken coop that was fitted with a floodlight to keep them warm as well as a couple of feeders and waterers.  One chick died soon after arriving at The Roost, but the others appeared to be getting along fine.

A few days later I opened the hatch to allow them outside during the day into a penned-in area.  Some of the curious little birds began figuring out ways to dig under their wire enclosure and experience life on the outside.  Unfortunately several died during those brief escapes - before I found them and could get them back in their caged area.  The cats were responsible for some of the carnage, and I think passing dogs may have also been involved.

By the time I fell and broke my are on the last day of May, I believe there were just eighteen left.

My son, Nick, had to take over caring for the chicks after I became incapacitated.  A couple of more got out and died before Nick got the area into a shape that appeared to be tightly sealed.  The number finally stabilized at thirteen - eleven little pullets (hens) and two cockerels (roosters).  Nick did an amazing job of caring for the birds, and I could see that he was developing quite an attachment to them.   I managed to make a couple of trips to the hen house each day to note with pride how well they were doing.  Yesterday, on their one-month anniversary at the farm, I was pleased to see that they were getting large and starting to feather out nicely.

This morning as I was stumbling out of bed, Nick approached me the the sad news that a predator had somehow gotten into the coop during the night and killed all of the young chickens except for one very frightened little pullet.  I was sad for the loss (although this was not my first chicken massacre), but I was more sad for the young man who had spent so much time caring for those little birds.

Farms are about renewal - and, very sadly, they are also about death.

Today's poem is a somewhat bleak, yet inspirational verse that I came across on the internet.  It is about chickens that are raised on factory farms for slaughter who have scant opportunity to experience the world around them - just as our little chicks had almost no opportunity to experience many positives of the world that they were preparing to enter.

I am sharing it as an appreciation of Nick and of the people who persevere despite the setbacks that life hands them - and it is also my apology and lament to a very frightened and lonely little chicken who is suddenly becoming aware of the precarious nature of life on a farm.


Passing a Truck Full of Chickens at Night on Highway Eighty
by Jane Mead

What struck me at first was their panic.
Some were pulled by the wind from moving
to the ends of the stacked cages,
some had their heads blown through the bars - 
and could not get them in again.
Some hung there like that - dead - 
their feathers blowing, clotting
in their faces.  Then
I saw the one that made me slow some - 
I lingered there beside her for five miles.
She had pushed her head through the space
between bars - to get a better view.
She had the look of a dog in the back
of a pickup, that eager look of a dog
who knows she's being taken along.
She craned her neck.
She looked around, watched me, then
strained to see over the car - strained
to see what happened beyond.
That is the chicken I want to be.

Some Thoughts from a Father

by Pa Rock
Son, Father, Grandfather

Today is Father's Day, a fairly recent addition to the United States spectrum of holidays.  It began being celebrated sporadically in this country in 1913, and in 1966 President Lyndon Johnson designated the third Sunday of June as an annual day to honor fathers.  President Richard Nixon made it an official holiday in 1972, so "officially" the American holiday for honoring fathers is less than half-a-century old.

My father has been gone more than ten years now.  He had two children and lived long enough to see all seven of his grandchildren reach adulthood.  Dad was a hard worker and a good provider.  He grew up in rural poverty during the Great Depression, became the first member of his family to graduate from high school, and served his country in the Second World War.  Having spent his youth trapped in the dire straits of poverty, he had an appreciation of money and saw the accumulation of wealth as the one true measure of success.  And he loved his children, and grandchildren, and the six great-grandchildren who were already part of the family by the time he passed away at the age of eighty-five.

But the most important fathers in my life right now are the three young men who bear the responsibility of raising my grandchildren.

Scott, in Oregon, is married to my daughter, Molly, and they are the parents of two boys, Sebastian (12) and Judah (10), and young Willow who is eight-years-old.  Scott has a full-time job but still manages to be an active parent and help with household duties.  Among other things, he is very involved in grocery shopping, meal-planning, and cooking.

Tim, in Kansas, represents the family's creative spark.  He works hard as a stay-at-home parent where he also runs an independent business and writes constantly.  Two of his screenplays have been made into full-length motion pictures. and two of his short stories have been made into independent short films.  And with all of that, he is an active father to Olive, age eight, and four-year-old Sullivan.  When things pile up for Tim, stopping to play with the kids is always the priority.

Nick, my oldest, lives here in West Plains with me.  His only child, a son named Boone, is twenty-one now and a junior in college - so the immediacy of parenting is beginning to fade for Nick, but parenting remains an obligation that never completely goes away - and Nick and Boone both know that the father-son bond is forever.

If I ever had doubts as to the strength of the tie between parents and children, those were put to rest six years ago when I underwent major heart surgery in Phoenix.  I had my grown children at my side before, during, and after that very scary experience.   Then, several weeks ago when I fell and broke my arm, the story would have likely taken a very sad turn if not for the presence of Nick who stepped in and took over.  Nick rolled up his sleeves and took charge of the mowing, caring for the new baby chicks, managing the dogs and cats, grocery shopping, meal preparation, and even some personal chores like helping me get my socks on and getting into my device that stabilizes the broken arm.  On those rare times when I have to go to town, he drives me - and if I have medicines to pick up, he does that as well.  All of that, and he vacuums and keeps the house presentable!

Nick has been a true lifesaver, and this "father" appreciates him beyond measure on this Father's Day - and always!

My hope is that all of you other Dads have been as fortunate as me.  Let's all enjoy our big day!

Hunker Down, Tulsa!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

In just a few hours Donald John Trump will waddle onto the stage at the Bank of Oklahoma (BOK) Center in Tulsa and begin haranguing a crowd of his most rabid supporters with a hate screed.  He is not there to educate or inform anyone of anything.  Trump is going to Tulsa for one reason only, to incite violence and mayhem so that his repressive forces can them swarm the streets and begin knocking heads.  It will be a campaign event whose sole purpose is to create television footage to show the world just how tough on crime Trump is.

Yesterday morning Trump went on Twitter, his personal toilet where he relieves himself many times a day, and he tweeted a dare - or at least a promise - that if rioters and looters and people of their ilk (read "blacks") came to Tulsa they would not be happy with the outcome.   He let them know that Tulsa is tougher than other cities that had allowed protests.  This morning peaceful protesters were already showing up outside of the hate-fest venue - and they were being carted off by police.  Big tough Trump with the little dainty hands wasn't doing it, of course, but they were being removed in accordance with his wishes.

The show, it would seem, had already started.

The Trump troupe of miscreants, many of whom have been at multiple events, have been showing up and camping out near the BOK Center for a couple of days.  And while there are undoubtedly health and safety issues associated with their presence in the heart of Tulsa, as of yet there has been no television footage of any of them being carted off to jail.   They are apparently God's Chosen.

Oklahoma is an "open carry" state where gun ownership and the carrying of guns is allowed (and encouraged) for almost everywhere, though weapons will not be allowed inside the arena tonight.  (NRA are you okay with that blatant disrespect of your favorite Amendment?)   However, it is extremely likely that some people outside of the hate-fest venue will be armed - and undoubtedly some with automatic weapons and big magazines.  What could possibly go wrong?

And for those fortunate enough to avoid over-zealous police and morons with guns, there is the added danger of catching the coronavirus and coming down with COVID-19!  Trump's two best known COVID-19 advisers - aside from Mike Pence - are Doctors Fauci and Birx, and both have urged that the rally not be held.   Mayor G.T. Bynum of Tulsa, who approved the show, is saying that he wishes it would not take place right now due to the rapidly spreading virus.  Mayor Bynum, a Republican, has said that he will not attend.

Tulsa County has had 1,935 confirmed cases of COVID-19, the most of any county in the state, and numbers of new cases have been on the increase over the past few days.   This week the Oklahoma Supreme Court ruled that since the state was in the process of "re-opening," that attendees to tonight's show do not have to wear masks or practice social distancing.

(The Trump campaign is handing out free hand sanitizer and face masks to attendees which they can use if they so desire, though Trump himself is expected to perform without a mask.  The campaign has said that it will also be taking temperatures as people enter the arena - a task that sounds unmanageable.  Trump will also speak outside the arena after the main show where it is less likely that any significant precautions have been taken.  Ironically, attendees inside of the arena are being required to sign a waiver saying that they will not hold the campaign liable if they contract the disease at the event.)

And then, did you hear this one?  Six members of the Trump's advance team who were at the arena earlier today have tested positive for coronavirus!  They were at the arena today - working - but have now been sent back to their hotels.  That means everything they came into contact with at the arena could now pose a danger of transmitting disease - along with everything in their hotel rooms, the places they shopped and dined, their rental cars, the people who were on their flights to Oklahoma, and who knows what else.

Tulsa, tonight may be one for the history books - and the best way to stay safe is to stay home!

Sully Is Four!

by Pa Rock
Proud Grandpa

My youngest grandchild, Sullivan Charles Macy, is having a big birthday today - his fourth!

I was at the hospital the day little Sully was born - a Monday on the day after Father's Day.  I was so emotionally swept up in the birth of the little man that, after holding and admiring him, I went back to his parents' house and quickly typed one of the best blog posts that I have ever written - a piece welcoming him into the world.  Today a copy of that blog posting is framed and hanging on his bedroom wall.  (It is also still posted in this blog - on June 20, 2016.)

Sully was born in the year of the Monkey, and he could not have had a more appropriate sign.  He is an active and playful monkey of a boy whose energy knows no bounds.  The world has no choice but to notice when he runs past.  Sully and his sister, Olive, (and their best pup, Jack), are sure to set high standards for having fun and adventures in their neighborhood - and good luck to their parents and grandparents in trying to keep up with them!

Happy birthday, Little Man.  Pa Rock loves you and will see you soon!

America Celebrates Juneteenth

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Donald Trump has two basic response modes:  he never accepts blame for anything that goes wrong - never - and he always takes credit for things that go well - always.  And by that measure we must acknowledge that Juneteenth (June 19th), the day the last American slaves officially heard that they were free, is a very good thing to celebrate.  But Trump, being Trump, has horned in on the national celebration by loudly proclaiming that he is the person who made America aware of its significance.  What he actually said was:

“I did something good: I made Juneteenth very famous. It’s actually an important event, an important time. But nobody had ever heard of it.”

All glory for recognition of Juneteenth belongs to Donald John Trump,  with any left over going to Trump's white, evangelical Jesus!

And to a point, he is correct.  Although I haven't seen any polling on the subject, I would suspect that more Americans are aware of the importance of Juneteenth in black American culture than ever before - but it wasn't because some racially tolerant Donald Trump deliberately brought it to their attention.

Trump and some of his hard-right advisors (Stephen Miller, I'm looking at you) decided that the 19th day of June would be a perfect time to resurrect Team Donald's traveling hate show, and that Tulsa, Oklahoma, the site of one of the worst race riots in American history, would be the ideal location to host it.   The Trump campaign was intentionally trying to sow some racial discord with the event's timing and location.  They knew that there would be blowback, but perhaps it came with greater speed and force than they anticipated.  The event was subsequently postponed one day - but would still take place in the conservative terrarium of Tulsa.

Trump had lost his significant date, and to make up for it he wanted to hog credit for making Juneteenth more prominent.  Such a poser!

This former college history major was well aware of the importance of June 19th in black America's long and continuing march to freedom (and has written about it in this space on other occasions), and so were many of his white friends.    But if Trump wants to take credit for making the date significant to much of America - let him.  A great many of his backwater white supporters probably did not have a clue, but and now they have one more thing to be pissed off about.

Karen is probably raising hell in multiple Target stores as I bang out this blog post.

Yes, Target.  The international chain store announced at the beginning of this week that it is officially recognizing Juneteenth as a company holiday.  The stores are still open, but employees who choose to work are receiving time-and-a-half pay, and those who choose to stay home and spend the company holiday with friends and family are getting full pay!

Did that go the way you planned it, Donald?

But it wasn't just Target.  JC Penney, Nike, and Best Buy  are making Juneteenth a paid holiday for their employees as well - and several other companies are also recognizing its official importance - companies like Twitter, Adobe, Lyft, Postmates, Mastercard, the New York Times, Vox Media, TikTok, Spotify, and the National Football League (NFL).

There is no word yet from Fox News and National Rifle Association (NRA), but we must remain hopeful that in this gush of national race consciousness more companies, organization, and individuals will seize the moment and hop on board the freedom train.

There is even serious talk in Congress of making Juneteenth a national holiday!

And all of this forward social momentum is rooted in the fact that Donald John Trump made us aware of the importance of June 19th!

Or not.

America's Lowlife President Stirs the Protest Pot

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Donald Trump and his noisy entourage - which will include at least fifteen members of Congress - will not arrive in Tulsa for their massive hate-fest until some time tomorrow, but this morning Trump is already on Twitter trying to whip his base into a frenzy ahead of the event.  In an early morning tweet, the malicious politician appeared to be trying to goad demonstrators into showing up at the event and to give him a backdrop in front of which to rail about "agitators" and "looters" and  other bad black people in a city that his campaign seems to have chosen because of its troubled racial past.

Trump, who had political ads pulled by Facebook yesterday because they used symbols associated with Nazi Germany, just hours ago threw down this dog-whistle-laden challenge on Twitter:

"Any protesters, anarchists, agitators, looters or lowlifes who are going to Oklahoma please understand, you will not be treated like you have been in New York, Seattle, or Minneapolis.  It will be a much different scene!"

A bully has made a dare:  Come on down to Tulsa, you scumbags!  Trump double-dog dares you!

Can it get any more presidential than that?

At Death's Door: Aunt Jemima, Uncle Ben, and Mrs. Butterworth

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

Aunt Jemima, the iconic black "Mammy" figure who has been has been hovering over America's breakfast tables for a more than a hundred and thirty years, is about to serve up her last round of pancakes.  The well-known brand of pancake mix and syrup that has been a mainstay of many family kitchens is looking at an imminent name change - or in the corporate vernacular - a "rebranding."

"Aunt Jemima" which is owned by Quaker Foods, which, in turn, is owned by by PepsiCo, has been criticized for the past several decades as being an offensive promotion of a racial stereotype -  the black Mammy - who dutifully served white families, and her persona is deeply rooted in the pre-and-post-Civil War American South.   Her name originated as a song - "Old Aunt Jemima" - among the plantation field slaves of the Old South and later became a popular number in traveling minstrel shows.  The original "Aunt Jemima" associated with the pancake and syrup products was Nancy Green, a woman who was born into slavery.

 Over the years the image associated with the "Aunt Jemima" brand has been updated, but the name, and particularly the title of "Aunt" remained the same.  "Aunt" and "Uncle" were often applied to elder black individuals so that whites could avoid addressing them with the more formal titles of "Mr." or "Mrs."  It was seen as a familiar form of respectful rather than a formal form or respectful.

"Uncle Ben" is also about to breathe his last.  The Mars food conglomerate which owns the "Uncle Ben's" various boxed rice products, has indicated that in an effort to "take a stand in helping to put an end to racial bias and injustice," that it plans to "evolve" the "Uncle Ben's" brand - to include it's "visual brand identity" -  which would seem to indicate that they are planning on changing the name as well as the picture.  ("Uncle Ben originally appeared wearing a bow tie and resembling a servant in the 1940's, but in 2007 his image was updated to a more contemporary appearance.)

And rounding out today's list of upcoming celebrity obits is the other venerable syrup queen, "Mrs. Butterworth."  Conagra sounded her death knell this week with a news release stating that the company had "begun a complete brand and packaging review" of "Mrs. Butterworth's" syrups. Stammering on, the international food conglomerate said, "We stand in solidarity with our Black and Brown communities and we can see that our packaging may be interpreted in a way that is wholly inconsistent with our values."

While "Mrs. Butterworth" is a more recent brand than "Aunt Jemima" and "Uncle Ben," and she is more appropriately recognized by the title of "Mrs.", she was still represented as a racial stereotype in her packaging - a bottle in the shape of the clearly recognizable black "Mammy."

The sudden rush to rename and re-image these three brands that have been staples in American pantries for decades comes in the aftermath of the national and international protests that occurred after the killing of George Floyd, an unarmed - and handcuffed - black man, by police in Minneapolis - and as dozens of companies and brands have rushed to express their solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement.  If there ever was a time when change could and should occur, many believe this would be it.

Mr. Floyd's murder has made us all look inward, at our beliefs and values, and ultimately at the iconic images that helped to shape those beliefs and values.  Some things are going to change, and some old familiar friends are going to fade into the pages of history.

The moral arc of the universe is still bending.

The Full Gabby

by Pa Rock
Impaired Groomer

I never understood the true ramifications of hand dominance until I suffered a broken arm a few weeks ago - and now I realize all too well the severe limitations imposed by being right-handed with a broken right arm.  A good portion of what I accomplish each day is the result of hand activity, and now I am suddenly forced to acknowledge the importance of hand dominance - especially with regard to common activities like eating and personal grooming.

My arm was broken on May 31st, late in the evening, as I tried to step backward out of a raised flower bed approximately eighteen inches above ground level,  As I lifted my foot over the lip of the homemade stone circular planter, it caught on a rock and down I went.  I assumed I was going to die because everything went into slow-mo as I drifted backward, and when I finally landed flat on my back, I heard a bone crack and felt my head bounce off of the hard ground.

I was a heckuva fall, especially for an old codger like me, but I knew I had survived as the pain quickly began coursing through my shoulder and chest.  I was home alone, in a rural setting, so there was not point in calling out for help -  and my phone was, of course, in the house.  I laid calmly where I had landed until the shock of what I had done started to subside, and then I tried rolling a couple of different directions until I was at last able to sit up.  Eventually I hobbled to the house, found my phone, and secured an ambulance ride to the hospital.

(Being right-handed, with an obvious injury to my right shoulder or arm, I did not even consider trying to drive myself.)

My self-diagnosis from the way I felt was that I had broken my right shoulder, but fairly quick X-rays in the emergency room that were read by the on-duty doctor who happened to be an orthopedics person out of Springfield revealed that there was a straight break across the arm bone just below the shoulder.  I was fitted-up with a cloth sling and sent home in an Uber.

Late the next day I visited the local orthopedic clinic where I was told to expect a nine-month recovery period - but not much else.  The doctor and a physical therapist wrapped me in a contraption that they called a "girdle" which immobilized my right arm near the shoulder and near the wrist - and then they told me to come back in two-and-a-half weeks.  In the interim I have visited my personal physician twice, once by video and once in his office, but he was only able to provide some general reassurances - like the reason my upper arm had turned coal black was due to "a lot" of internal bleeding, and that it would slowly return to normal.  He also worst-cased the matter - at my insistence - and let me know that if things went south during the recovery period I could face some truly awful surgeries.

So I am home with a firm resolve to be very careful and follow all doctors orders.

One of my first "learnings" after getting home was that there are many things that I can no longer do on my own - particularly with regard to personal grooming.  My son lives with me and is very helpful with outside chores - like mowing, and taking care of the dogs and cats and chickens,  as well as meal preparation, but I am not comfortable in asking him to help with acts of personal grooming.  I did try to procure the services of a home health aide but learned quickly that it would be an out-of-pocket expense because Medicare and my private insurer - Blue Cross-Blue Shield - do not regard good hygiene as a medical necessity.

(I will hire a home health aide if it gets to the point of necessity, but meanwhile I am trying to learn to cope as best I can on my own and with the help of my son.)

I shower every morning but am not able to reach everywhere.  I bought a special long brush over the Internet to scrub my feet.  Some parts of me get soaped, and others have to get by with just a daily rinse.  Brushing my teeth is also an adventure in frustration.  Left-handed brushing is slow and cumbersome, and I never feel as though I have done an adequate job.  I use mouthwash after each brushing, so that provides some extra protection to supplement the new normal.

And hair care?  Forget about it!  I do manage to shampoo fairly well with my left hand as I shower each morning - but every day it takes more time as more and more hair accumulates on my aging head.  Even dragging a comb through my increasingly ragged mane is a major chore.  (I have not had a haircut since early February due to the pandemic - and where once I looked like an elder small town businessman, now I am more apt to remind people of an aging roadie for a Cheech and Chong reunion tour!)

Facial hair is also a new concern.  Shaving with my left hand is not possible, which means I haven't had a razor slide across my face since the last day of May.  I had a mustache for many years but finally outgrew that phase of life about three decades ago.  Now, of course, it is back, along with a short white beard that gets a little thicker, a little longer, and a little more pronounced with each passing day.

(Part of my morning routine has become looking in the mirror and asking myself:  "Who the hell is that?")

My beard is at a point now that, if I could trim it, I might look like a more distinguished roadie for Cheech and Chong, but a careful personal trimming is also not an option - and I will not present my tired old body at a barber shop during the on-going pandemic.  If things continue unchanged for nine long months as I recover the use of my right arm, I suspect that my senile old head will have morphed into that of Gabby Hayes!

It's been seventeen days (and nights) since my grand indignity and I am feeling better.  My arm no longer shoots bolts of pain as I lay down in bed or get up, though the dull pain of the break is still persistent.  I no longer take pain pills, except occasionally one as a sleep aid - but most nights I sleep well on my back and securely wrapped in my restraint girdle.

Hopefully by this time next year I will no longer be trying to get food to my mouth on a fork using my left hand - and I will have the ability to put on my own socks when my feet are cold, and I will be able to drive myself to town whenever I take the notion to go.

Look for me putting up and down Porter Wagoner Boulevard.  I will be the old coot at the wheel of an antique Saturn Vue and sporting a full Gabby!

Rep. Jason Smith at Forty

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

This past Sunday I used this space to wish former television reality host Donald Trump a happy birthday, and today I would like to mark the anniversary of the birth of another right-wing politico.  My well-fed, bachelor congressman, Jason Smith, a Republican representing rural south-central and southeast Missouri, turns forty today.  

Rep. Smith, a bit-player on the national scene who dreams of bigger things, made a national embarrassment of himself in January of 2019 when he yelled “Go back to Puerto Rico!” at Democratic Representative Tony Cardenas of California as Cardenas was speaking from the podium in the House of Representatives.  Smith then ducked out of view among other Republicans – but later owned up to his adolescent behavior.

My congressman is also one of an estimated hundred or so Members of Congress who sleep in their offices when Congress is in session.  Federal regulations prohibit all federal employees – except apparently congressmen – from quartering in their offices.  The practice is an obvious health issue – particularly during the coronavirus pandemic – and it also represents a gross misuse of taxpayer funds.  And, to frost that cake, this extremely lucrative job perk is completely untaxed.  Smith's canned excuse for this excessive sponging off of the government is that he is trying not to become too comfortable in Washington, DC.  And, of course, he is saving a pile of money to boot!

But, it’s Jason’s birthday, so let’s  allow his free government housing to slide – at least for today.

Being a generally reliable party man and a Trump parrot, Jason Smith consistently coughs up official Republican talking points in his weekly email newsletter that is sent out every Saturday.   The newsletter presents the GOP twaddle de jour and provides a stroke or two to Trump’s ego if he has had a calm week – but on weeks when Trump has been overly combative or irrational, Smith’s newsletter will often not even mention his name.

In addition to one lead story, Congressman Smith’s weekly newsletter also usually includes photos of the rural politician with constituents – or cows and farm machinery -  as well as stories of local interest.

The current edition of Congressman Smith's newsletter gives a preview of the GOP election strategy for this fall.  It looks as though the push will be to show that Democrats make the country weak.   The main article in the newsletter was entitled “Defunding Our Safety” and the lead, which appeared in bold print on the front page, had this to say:

"For nearly a week, radical individuals who prioritized looting and chaos in this country over any type of actual change diminished the voices of those protesting the tragic death of George Floyd. Worse, the Left refuses to call out the violence and destruction. Perhaps it’s because they are focused on using the unrest to push their liberal agenda regardless of the facts. They are blaming all law enforcement officers across the country for what’s happening and calling for all police departments to be defunded. Their new “defund the police” slogan is just as absurd as their calls to abolish the Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency (ICE) two years ago. Once again, the Left demonstrates a severe lack of understanding for what American cities would look like without police officers. "

Did you catch all of those dog whistles?  "Radical," "looting," "chaos," "violence," "destruction," "unrest" - and absolutely no mention of race or racial injustice - other than to label George Floyd's death as "tragic."     The fact that Mr. Floyd was killed by a police officer is not even mentioned!

Congressman Smith - and the GOP - would have America believe that all of the hullabaloo in the streets was just an excuse to rob and riot and vandalize - and had no basis in a national injustice that has been occurring full-throttle in this country for more than a century.   Smith wants to describe the violence in terms of effect, and not cause.   He wants his constituents to focus on rioters and looters and scary black people.    Out-of-control police officers are irrelevant in his calculus.

Congressman Smith wants his voters to fear a future in which police departments and immigration agencies are brought under public control and forced to be accountable for their actions.  His mantra - and that of his party - will be that curbing the excesses of public servants will somehow weaken society and bring about anarchy.

It's a boogeyman campaign strategy.   Republicans are in no position to run on their abysmal records, so instead they resort to sowing fear among the voters - fear of "radicals" and "looters" (code words for blacks), and of "drug-runners" and "rapists" (code words for immigrants). It's dirty politics practiced by seasoned politicians.

George Floyd mattered, Jason.   He had family and friends who loved him and who grieve bitterly for the needless loss of his life.  But politicians who openly condemn Colin Kaerpernick  and other athletes for taking a knee in support of Black Lives Matter, were eerily silent when a Minneapolis officer killed George Floyd by “taking a knee” on his throat for nearly ten minutes.   

Breonna Taylor mattered, and so did Rayshard Brooks, Ahmaud Arbery, Trayvon Martin, and the other thousands – yes thousands – of people of color who have died unjustly at the hands of police and vigilantes over the forty years that you have lived comfortably on this planet.   

And those we have neglected mattered, too – like the children who died in cages along our southern border because uncaring US border officials would not get them the medical care they needed.  Each of those brown “illegals” had parents who loved them – just as your parent’s loved you and mine loved me.   All any of those “illegal” human-beings wanted was just a chance, a slim chance, at a life like the one that many white Americans are able to take for granted.

Happy birthday, Jason.   May you enjoy many, many more - and may you use those years to experience and appreciate America’s rich diversity while working to become a more tolerant and inclusive human-being.  The world could teach you quite a lot if you would just open your heart and mind and let that learning happen!

Monday's Poetry: A Rerun of "We Don't Talk that Way in Tulsa"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

The very first posting on Pa Rock's Ramble appeared on Sunday, November 4th, 2007, with a piece entitled "Obama '08," a promotion of my notion that Senator Barack Obama of Illinois would make a great President.  That prescient piece of political prognostication heralded the way for a thinking and typing challenge that has now seen daily postings for nearly thirteen years.  In fact, today's blog post is number 4,746 - which represents quite an inordinate amount of thought and time and proof-reading.

Sometimes I am really pleased with my daily efforts at the keyboard, and other times I wind up making changes over the next few days in order to get it to where I think it is worth preserving.  (A few days ago I wrote a column focusing on a couple of examples of Donald Trump's blatant racism, and this morning I was still tweaking that effort to include things that I have learned since it first went up.  I want my grandchildren and their grandchildren to see this world that I inhabit as accurately as possible, and if that includes making modifications on the run, so be it.)

A big part of the original intent of The Ramble was to give a political overview of early 21st century America - and the world - that would become a recorded fragment of the history of the times.  Another aspect of the effort was to use it to collect some of my personal writings  (including pieces of my own family history) from over the years as a sort of personal history of the times.   In that vein, the early days of The Ramble contain some of my lame poetry, short stories, and even fifty or so entries from "Doin' the Sales with Rusty Pails," a fiction newspaper column that I used to write.

Pa Rock's Ramble is, at its heart, an eclectic mess.

Ever since Donald Trump absconded with the US Presidency, I have wasted way too much time, energy, and ink in chronicling his ethical and criminal absurdities, and I now make an effort to ignore him as often as possible.  Trump, however, manages the news through a skilled combination of shock and distraction, and he is a difficult animal to ignore - even for me.

The piece that I wrote on his latest racist outrages - the one I modified this morning - dealt with, in part, Trump's proposed hate rally in Tulsa, Oklahoma on June 19th (Juneteenth) - a double slap at the black community both for its significant location and its significant date in black history.  Trump has since stepped away from holding the rally on "Juneteenth," and will disrupt life in Tulsa on June 20th instead - but he has chosen to stick with Tulsa, the second largest city in a state that he will easily carry in November - and a city where one of the worst race riots in American history took place as the semi-wealthy black populace had their section of Tulsa literally burned out of existence by angry white mobs.

(Oklahoma Factoid:  Barack Obama, our nation's only black President, did not carry a single county in Oklahoma during either of his presidential elections!)

Obviously Donald Trump has no political need to hold a rally there, other than he is searching for someplace that will be rabidly enthusiastic for him, regardless of how disheveled he is or how disorganized his speech is.

But, today is Monday, a day that I often link to a poem, and this week I have had Tulsa on my mind.  What follows is a little ditty - a poem (of sorts) - that I wrote many hears ago with the idea of building a children's book around it.  "We Don't Talk that Way in Tulsa" ran in this space on November 14th, 2007, as the ninth entry in Pa Rock's Ramble.  It is the tale of an ornery little boy, and his exasperated teacher, principal, and parent - all roles that I have taken on in life.  If you missed it the first time around, here it comes again . . .


We Don't Talk that Way in Tulsa
by Rocky Macy


Today I found a naughty word,
I picked it up at school
And when I said it to my friends,
They all thought I was cool!

After recess my teacher asked me
To describe a certain bird.
But when I opened my mouth to do it,
Out fell that naughty word!

My teacher gasped and stammered
As she said for all to hear,
"We don't talk that way in Tulsa.
You must go see Missus Fear!"

Missus Fear, the principal, asked what I had done.
Had I been a bully, or did I throw a rock?
When I opened my mouth to tell her, 
We both got quite a shock!

The principal huffed and powder-puffed
And proclaimed that I'd gone wild.
"We don't talk that way in Tulsa.
You've become a problem child!"

Missus Fear called my mother
Who left work to come to school.
And when my mother heard my word, 
She wasn't very cool!

"We don't talk that way in Tulsa!"
My mother yelled at me.
"And if you think we do,
Well . . . well . . . well . . ."

And there it was, another naughty word,
Alive and kicking, loud and clear!
Maybe they don't talk that way in Tulsa,
But that's not exactly what I hear!

Trump at Seventy-Four

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Donald John Trump read a speech  from a teleprompter yesterday to the 2020 graduating class of  at West Point.  The young, newly-minted second lieutenants came back to The Point two weeks ago in order to be quarantined for an appropriate time before being marched out to listen to Trump's thinly-veiled campaign drivel.

There has been a lot of comment in the news regarding Trump's listless and slurred delivery of the speech as well as what appeared to be some rather obvious physical impairments.  At one point he took a drink of water and used both hands to navigate the glass to his mouth, and as he walked down the ramp from the stage at the end of the speech he seemed to have some coordination and balance issues.

In addition to the ever-circulating rumors that Trump has substance abuse issues, he is also an elderly individual - 74-years-old today - and subject to all of the normal infirmities associated with aging - infirmities which his raging narcissism will never allow him to admit.

Happy birthday, Donald John.  May you be retired and playing golf on your own dime by the time your next one rolls around!

Fear of Flying

by Pa Rock
Mudbound Pedestrian

My cousin is the bravest person I know.  This week as I hobbled about the farm just accomplishing small tasks like walking out to the road to check the mail,  Cousin J boarded a crowded passenger plane near her home in Arizona and then flew to Colorado where she got on another crowded commercial airliner and flew on to the state of Washington.

Cousin J, who is a lady of mature years, though younger than me, did not undertake her perilous journey in an unprepared manner.  She emailed a "selfie" to me that showed her ready to catch her first flight.  She was wearing a large, but stylish, black bowler hat, face mask, protective plastic visor, and a long white lab coat with a pair of rubber gloves visible in the pocket.  She also had her arms and legs covered by long sleeves and pants.  Cousin J looked as though she was ready to fly to Africa and save a village from the ravages of ebola!

Cousin J arrived at her destination safely and is now in self-quarantine.  She is very conscious not only of her own safety, but also with the safety of others.

I heard a news report yesterday which said that half-a-million people passed through TSA checkpoints one day earlier in the week, and that exactly one year before that 2.5 million people had boarded planes in the United States.  That's  a drop of 80 percent over last year.   Fewer people are going to work, fewer people are shopping in stores, and fewer people are flying.  The Federal Reserve may give its opinion on how the economy is doing, but the actual proof is swirling all around us.  The "recovery" that some politicians try to talk into existence has not happened - nor is it likely to happen until a proven vaccine has been disseminated across much of the general population.

Until there is a proven vaccine in wide use, many of us will continue to do as much as we can to safeguard our own lives by avoiding unnecessary contact with others.

Thank you, Cousin J, for being the poster girl for safety and responsibility in the time of the plague.   May your stint in self-quarantine be uneventful and pass quickly.  I'll see you on Nantucket when this madness ends!