It is hard to imagine that 2013 is on the verge of wrapping up, and what a year it has been too! In many respects, I am glad it is over, and am anticipating a good year in 2014.
There are a lot of things that have happened this year which have formulated my perspectives as I share them here, and as I share them, I cannot help but think of how each of our lives is a microcosm of what happens in the society as a whole, especially with some crazy stuff our government is doing this past year. We'll touch on that briefly later, but for now I want to review life in 2013 in our house, as in many aspects it was good, challenging, and at times a little uncertain, but by God's grace we made it through.
1. Society and My Response
This has been one of those challenging years on many counts, and it has impacted me just like it has many. Most of it has to do with what is going on in society on a larger scale, because what happens on a large scale affects us as individuals on a small scale, whether we accept it or not. The Occupant in the White House (I don't see Obama as a legitimate President, sorry!) and his friends at the lower echelons of authority have been doing some crazy stuff, some of which doesn't make any sense whatsoever. For instance, kids are now being punished in school for some pretty stupid things - eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, etc. I even heard recently of one 6-year-old in Colorado being labeled as a "sexual harasser" because he gave a little girl classmate an innocent kiss on the hand. Another kid I heard about was suspended for opening the door for a girl classmate too. Yet another, a young Black teenager, was expelled for giving his teacher an innocent hug! Yet, I don't see anything being done with the Muslim terrorist who tried to molest a horse - the gay-rights nuts would say on that one that "love is love," yet they are idiots anyway so who cares what they define as "love." And, this whole "gay marriage" issue - I am about to get myself into some big trouble with what I am about to say, but it has to be said. Just this past week, a Christian business owner who has a bakery was penalized by an activist Federal judge because he refused to make a wedding cake for a gay couple. To begin with, this guy is an independent private business owner, and as such he has a right to refuse service to anyone because it is his business. Secondly, it is obvious that some of these nasty gays want to just stir up trouble, because the simplest solution would have been for them to go elsewhere. On that, I have a disagreement with some of my well-meaning libertarian friends in that they say the "gay rights" crowd will supposedly respect businesses and churches that don't agree with their positions and leave them alone, but what this situation with the bakery demonstrates is that there is a method to their madness - they are not about just "marriage equality" or "equal rights," but rather they are trying to ramrod an agenda down the throats of every American. No one - not even devout Christians - is saying gays cannot be gay; as reprehensible as the lifestyle is, it is not up to us to force them to live differently, and no Christian would say that. The problem is that the gay community often doesn't want to reciprocate the courtesy - they are trying to force their lifestyle preferences on us, while at the same time saying that those who don't agree with it are "bigots" and other such perjorative names they call us. Which leads to a third observation - as far as I can tell, gays are not a race or ethnic group, but rather a group which engages in a behavioral lifestyle. Therefore, they are not a minority, and in many cases, they live lives just like everyone else, so what is the problem? Gays have the same freedom of speech, they can work good jobs and get good salaries, and last I heard there are not frenzied mobs breaking into their bedrooms either. They can also vote, shop at the same stores, eat in the same restaurants, use the same services, etc., that everyone else can, so I find it perplexing as to why they think they have "discrimination." It might also be enlightening to some people that Christians are as against bullying gays and others as any decent human being would be - bullying of any sort is wrong, period. And, it is always wrong to go "whipping up" on anyone just because you don't like how they look or what they do. The "gay lifestyle" is something I believe to be wrong, and it is contrary to both human nature and Biblical principles. And, I also don't think gays (or anyone else for that matter) are entitled to "special treatment," nor do I think they have a "right" to marry each other either - marriage is a sacramental union, not an entitlement. However, just like with any sinners, gays need Jesus Christ in their lives, and our witness to them as Christians is to treat them with dignity as fellow human beings, but at the same time pray for their salvation and deliverance. If that makes me a "bigot," then so be it - however, it seems to me that those who are on the "gay rights" bandwagon are oftentimes more bigoted and intolerant of their opponents than their opponents are of them, and that is where the change needs to take place.
Now, let us turn attention to the economy. I had issues this year with employment, and in large part it is due to Obama - he has literally wrecked the economy, and many of us who simply want to support our families and maintain a good quality of life have suffered for it. Over-regulation and other bureaucratic craziness has stifled even the self-sustaining efforts of some - you have government bullies (aided by nosy, meddling HOA's in some communities) going in and tearing up people's vegetable gardens and other such stuff, and they are now even going after kids for selling lemonade! It is getting ridiculous. The garden issue happened in Miami recently when some nosy neighbors ragged on a family for growing a small vegetable plot in their front yard, and the government dealt harsh and nasty with that family - really, tomatoes are now a threat to people?? Other forms of self-sufficiency have been attacked as well, and it is getting harder to pursue the fabled "American Dream" because the US government and its lackeys are creating nightmares! There are good organizations out there, such as the Institute for Justice, which are fighting against this bullying, but much needs to be done yet. Then, you have the MacDonald's crowd - employees there are now trying to demand that they get paid $15/hour to flip burgers! I have a BA degree, and I have only made that much in my whole working career one time; for the most part, I am happy if I can get $10 or $12 hourly! Yet, these burger-flippers - a job taking minimal effort and skill, I might add - think they should get more than a degreed professional?? Many of our combat-weary troops overseas don't even make that kind of cash, and they could use it more because what they are doing is much more important. There are some thoughts on this I will share now. First, if you are working fast-food joints as a life career, you are a sad individual - while on one hand it is commendable that you are at least earning a paycheck, maybe you need to re-evaluate your career choices; go to community college or something and learn a real trade. Reason is that burger joints and the jobs they entail are for transitioning purposes - they are for either teenagers earning a little spending money, retirees wanting to do something useful, or for those a little down on their luck to get back on their feet so that they can find a permanent and more appropriate job later. Burger joints, unless one is a stockholder, are not meant to be career choices. Secondly, if MacDonald's or any other fast-food chain actually takes this seriously, it would be economic suicide - income would have to be generated to pay those outrageous salaries, and that would mean a price increase in their product. First off, I hate burgers personally, but for those that like them, I don't think that potentially paying $10 for a Big Mac would be worth the cost - you can get a much better meal at the Golden Corral for much cheaper. Fast food is just not that great, and it's meant to be cheap because its quality is not the best - people are not going to pay outrageous amounts for a substandard product, simple as that. Therefore, if burger-flippers end up being paid more than an entry-level secretary makes, the secretary who makes less may eat elsewhere, simple as that. Plus, there are much better options - the small Mom-and-Pop places oftentimes have better food than these large chains, and the upside is that they would benefit from a dumb move like that. Anyway, that is just me.
More could be said - much more actually, as I haven't even gotten to Obamacare; oy! - but we'll leave it at that.
2. Record-Collecting and Hobbies
Due to limited resources, I have not actually been at liberty to purchase as many CD's this year as I have in years past, but we did manage to get some good stuff this year anyway. Some of the primary material we have gotten has been Western Swing and polka recordings, and the combination of those at the end of our 2012-2013 anniversary year on October 1st was 1176 CD's, 89 DVD's, and 898 vinyl LP recordings. This is the first year in several actually that I have had no vinyl purchases, but that is fine because I have practically all I am looking for at the current time. Large purchases this year have been minimal as well, consisting of some good vintage polka collections of the orchestras of Romy Gosz and Al Grebnick, as well as a 5-CD collection of Western Swing pioneer Milton Brown and his Musical Brownies. I have tried to focus this past year on tying up some loose ends in the collection, as there were several things from individual artists directly I wanted to obtain and did - among those are polka bands such as Orv Konop and Duffy Belorad, modern Western Swing groups such as the Quebe Sisters and Hot Club of Cowtown, and a few vintage big band recordings including Glen Law's orchestra from Illinois. The real find this year though was of one of my favorite big dance bands which finally is available on disc - Johnny Green's vintage recordings of the 1930's. Thanks to my friends the Dodds in Australia and their company Crystal Stream, we were able to obtain that one. I also have now gotten my own CD recorder, and am in the process of creating my own CD's of some LP collections which have no chance of ever being reissued due to their rarity. Additionally, I have been able to access entire albums of material online - Peter Duchin's vintage recordings from his early 1960's Deccas, for one - and have made CD's of those. I see this as a trend later on too, because I have figured this would be a great way to get some albums on CD that either will never have the privelege of a professional reissue, or perhaps the copies of LP's I have may have defects and scratches, therefore not allowing for quality self-made recordings.
In the coming year, there will be less purchases of CD's because there simply isn't that much left to get - I am at a point in my collection where I have the library I have always wanted, and there is relatively little out there I need to purchase. However, I must always keep my eyes open for new releases, as they will happen, and we are at a place now to where we can add them almost as soon as they become available.
3. Organization
This has been a year of finishing a lot of projects as well - I finished a theological book I have been working on for about 10 years, and now have a desk and computer of my own in my home office to organize things the way I have needed to. This includes getting a system refined for all my paperwork, and an ongoing organizational effort to make things more easily accessible.
4. Other Projects
The addition of a CD recorder has also facilitated organization and conversion of my other music and material onto discs, and it is good to finally be able to listen to some great music, both sacred and secular, that I only had on cassette and haven't been able to listen to in years. The demise of the cassette tape is honestly one of the biggest blessings I can say was ever conceived, because although cassettes were cheap, they were totally inadequate for preserving material that you wanted to keep. The compact disc is a much better invention for doing that, and I am so thankful to be able to get a lot of my old material onto disc. And, what material it was too - old cassette recordings of Assyrian and Armenian ethnic music, some Israeli folk music from years back I had on LP, and a lot of my Christian music that is largely unavailable on CD professionally but I had on cassette and LP. Many of those cassettes I had were part of memories too - you know how some music, etc., reflects different periods of one's life, and they become a part of your legacy personally. So it is with so many things I have here too. Which leads into the second ongoing project I have had for some years now.
As funds made it more possible, since around 2004 I have been on a journey of sorts to rediscover my past as I put together my life story. Our years in Largo had really contributed much to that rediscovery, as I had gotten a lot of books and other things during that time which were part of what I call my legacy. That has continued into the past year as well, and 2013 has its benefits in that regard. The good thing about much of this is that it didn't cost a dime, because much of it involved photos and other things I could access via the internet. The continuing project is to take these things, organize them accordingly, and make them accessible, which is now the system I have in place. I am sure more of that will come in the following year as well too.
5. What's Ahead for 2014
Due to some limitations beyond my control, a lot of 2014 is still pretty much up in the air at the present time. I did transfer schools from Southeastern University to Franciscan University of Steubenville, which means my graduate studies will continue with the exception of a 4-month interruption between this past September and now (December). With continued graduate studies, I will not have the liberty to write quite as much, but still will continue all my articles. As for this page, I think it is time to continue something I have started, and that is writing about people who I have known over the years and who have impacted me the most. Also, some other material, as I venture into the virtual archives of my own memories - my brief tenure selling Grit papers, for instance, when I was a kid, as well as some similar and more specific childhood memories. As much as politics and social issues get my attention, I want to try to keep Creative Side somewhat light in tone, because all of us know what is wrong with society and we cannot constantly dwell on those things but rather must keep alive the legacies God gave us. A similar emphasis will be undertaken in my Sacramental Present Truths articles too, which will be focused in the coming year more upon things such as the "Six-Fold Ecclesiology" that will be the skeleton of my future MTS thesis work, as well as developing and formulating a sort of Appalachian Christian Theology too. Recipes and restaurant reviews on David's Kitchen will be added as they happen, as there is no agenda for those.
I really hope that the articles I publish here will be material that inspires, on occasion entertains, and most importantly informs you, as it is my way of having a virtual "front porch" to talk, reminisce, and even share an occasional serving of BS when needed. And, I hope that each and every one reading this will have a blessed holiday season, and let us not forget the One for whom we celebrate it either. God bless, and will see you in 2014!
Monday, December 16, 2013
Thursday, November 21, 2013
The Friendly Town Wino
Do any of you reading this recall the old episodes of The Andy Griffith Show? If so, you will remember one of the most endearing characters was Otis, the town wino who used to often stay on Andy's jail overnight as sort of a motel more than a punishment. One of the nice things about small towns is that even those with alcohol problems are often shown compassion by the local folks, and as a result despite their indulgences these people often become beloved members of the community. Although The Andy Griffith Show was fiction (although it was based in part on where Andy actually grew up in NC) there is a bit of truth to it in regard to the small town and how even the most mischievious of townfolk often are endearing. When I was growing up in the small town of Kirby, WV, we actually had a person similar to Otis who to this day still recalls fond memories, and I want to spend some time today talking a little about his story.
Kirby, WV, was by no means a Mayberry - in reality the place was poverty-stricken, and many people in town unfortunately did not live in the most ideal of settings as alcoholism, abuse, and other issues plagued many people there. But, one thing it did have in common with the fictional Mayberry was its own version of Otis. John Haines was quite the character - he drank like the fictional Otis, looked like a shorter version of Jed Clampett from The Beverly Hillbillies, and if you saw him walk it would remind you of a cross between Foster Brooks and Charlie Chaplin. However, despite appearances, John had a lot of complexity that many did not really see unless you got the chance to know him and talk to him. Fortunately, my mother got to be close with the old fellow, and she gained an appreciation about his life that many people did not realize. Although on the surface John appeared as a drunk who walked funny, he was in reality an astute observer of a lot of things.
We first came across John not long after Mom and I moved to Kirby in the summer of 1980. One of his chores was mowing the lawns in the trailer park the majority of the town lived in, and often John would mow more of the dirt road than he would the grass! One day, Mom felt a little sorry for him, and invited him in for some water to cool off from his mowing, which he did greatly need and appreciate. So, he would drop up for a visit on occasion, and once he found out that Mom could make a decent tomato sandwich (I hated them and didn't eat them, but they were a staple in the summer for others, and Mom would often make herself one for lunch), he would go into Nellie Cox's garden and steal a large tomato, bringing it to the house so Mom could make him a sandwich with a couple of slices of it. As he'd visit, he'd get to where he would talk about things - he didn't say a whole lot to many people, and for some weird reason he didn't trust kids at all (he was of that old school of "children should be seen and not heard," which at the time insulted me but as I grew older and see how kids act today sometimes, it would not be a bad idea for some of them!). Yet, although not overly fond of kids, he didn't hate them either - on one occasion, for instance, John hit the Frito-Lay vendor at Cox's Store up for a small bag of chips, which he gave to me. And, although he exhibited some behavior that made him appear in a constant state of intoxication, in all reality he really did not consume as much as many thought he did - actually, he was alotted a quart of beer a day by Nellie Cox (which, come to find out, he paid for anyway, but we'll get to that shortly), and there was actually another explanation for his behavior that didn't have anything to do with alcohol consumption. Now, I want to talk about that a little as I talk a bit about John's background.
John W. Haines was a native of Hampshire County, and I want to say he was born from somewhere near Slanesville in the east-central part of the county (Kirby was in the southeast corner, quite a distance away). Of course, in that county Haines is a pretty common name anyway, for along with the Hotts and Timbrooks, Haineses make up a significant portion of the residents of the county. He was born in February 1925, and was also a World War II vet, as he had served in the Pacific at that time. While in the military, he was seriously wounded and did have the iconic steel plate in his head. This did affect his motor skills significantly, and had more to do with his odd walk than the alcohol did actually. He was also prone to convulsions, which appeared similar to the grand mal seizures people with epilepsy experience on occasion. When one of those episodes would strike him, John would shake uncontrollably and could not stand up until the seizure passed. His own name for those spells was the "heebie-jeebies," and although he was definitely not epileptic, he did have them with more frequency as he got older. His honorable service and medical discharge actually earned him a comfortable pension for the remainder of his life, but due to his living humbly in a spartan-furnished trailer in Kirby, much of his wealth (and I say that factually - upon his passing, it was discovered that he had a substantial amount of assets which could have given him a more comfortable standard of living) was managed by local land baron Nellie Cox, who was also a distant relative of his. Due to some sensitive nature of the situation, I won't indulge some details of this arrangement, because this is not really the place for it, but suffice to say many people thought something didn't jive with this once it was disclosed that John was actually a man of means. For instance, although it was pretty much established as fact that John had these assets, he often had to beg for his daily quart of beer, and people felt sorry for the fact he had to live like he did, and many thought it was also unnecessary. John was not a bum, nor was he some freeloading riff-raff - he actually asked for very little in life, and largely minded his own business. Again, sometimes appearances can be deceiving, and John did often use the "dumb wino" act to learn a lot of things, and he had some pretty astute observations although many of the secrets he possessed went to the grave with him. I think too that was one reason why he often was not open to many people and had a genuine mistrust of kids and others - kids do tend to spit out things they shouldn't at times, and I think John knew that. Whatever the whole story - which we may never find out anyway - there was definitely more than met the eye when it came to John Haines.
When I was about 12 or 13, somehow one of the neighborhood people found out how to get an old TV John had operational at his place, and being we didn't own a TV set at the time, John gladly offered to let me watch his when I wanted to, as he had little use for it. So, for the first time in a matter of years, I was able to watch cartoons and Friday night sitcoms, which provided a little activity in a town where choices of entertainment were limited. In time, on weeknights several of us - including Mom, me, and one of John's oldest friends, a fidgety little fellow by the name of Guy Bowman - would spend the evening watching television at John's place. Those proved to be enjoyable diversions at the time, and it was actually fun to be able to do simple activities like watching a TV show when so much of that poverty-stricken town was often depressing.
Despite living pretty simply and having a relatively stress-free life, complications from a variety of health issues began to take their toll on John, as at times toward the end he would even not be seen for days. On one chilly February morning in 1983, someone decided to check on him because they hadn't seen him for a while. That year, I was finishing up the 6th grade and was on the verge of entering adolescence, and therefore I was still relatively young at the time. I also do not recall who went to John's house that day, but they found him - he had passed away not long before he was discovered, and the "official" reports said he suffered a fatal heart attack. He was at the time only 58 years old - or, he would have been, as he passed shortly before his 58th birthday. Nellie Cox took care of his funeral arrangements, and that was one of the first funerals I attended, and also one of three times I was a pallbearer. It was a true honor though to bear John's remains to their final resting-place, and it was also humbling - the weather that day was overcast but also a little warm for February in that neck of the woods. John was buried close to where he was born, in Slanesville at the Salem Church Cemetery. He was missed by many, as he was actually a very iconic figure in town and almost everyone who lived there had a fondness for him.
One interesting and amusing story also comes to mind about John. Sometime around the middle of 1982, this family of really dumb stereotypical hillbillies consisting of an elderly woman, Goldie, and her two middle-aged sons, Vernon and Boyd, moved into the small house just across the street from John's trailer. Goldie was a nosy busybody, suffered from bad illiteracy (she could not even write her own name!) and in general she was just a pain in the butt! On one occasion, John really had to go to the bathroom and he was booking it over to his trailer from the store. Anyone who has the classic "short hold and heavy load" knows that feeling well - you have to go, and you have to go now! But, of course, old nosy Goldie saw him, and had to ask where he was going - so, in explicit terms, he told her, as he was exasperated anyway! She never did that again! We all laughed about that one for years. Also, John loved country music, and often when he'd get a little tipsy he would sport this huge button someone gave him emblazoned with "I Like Girls!" on it, and then proceed to serenade anyone who would listen with his own unique rendition of Kenny Rogers' song "Lucille." Interesting enough, in my first year of college there was a classmate of ours who actually bore an uncanny resemblance to John by the name of Randy Vaughn, who we all endearingly called "RV" for short. RV was much younger (mid-20's then) but he walked the same, talked the same, and his story involved a similar injury - RV was involved in a car accident which gave him a condition similar to cerebral palsy (which many though John also had, interesting enough), but the only difference (and a scary one too!) was that RV drove a car! And Lord have mercy, that was an experience to be talked about at another time! Fortunately, John never had a car to drive, nor was he in need of one - he seldom left Kirby, and the most risky activity he engaged in was probably mowing the dirt roads in the park and occasionally zinging someone's window with a piece of slate gravel from the road! But, I wanted to briefly mention RV, because when I first met him (and he later became one of my closest friends in school) he made me think almost instantly of John Haines!
The legacy of John Haines could have a lot more detail to it, and unfortunately I don't have a picture anymore to share of him. At one time, Mom had three good photos; one was recent, and the other two were from his World War II days - one was when he enlisted, and the second was after he was injured and got out. That is really too bad, because a good picture of John would have enhanced the story better. Suffice to say though, John was actually a decent guy who although was at first appearances easy to write off as a stumbling drunk, in reality he was actually interesting and more complex under the surface than many knew. He carries a special place in my own story as well, because he is one of those people who does leave a lasting impression. And, despite his limitations, John had a quality of character that these days is rare - he was humble, exercised good judgment, and had wisdom about some things that often went unnoticed due to externals. He imparts a lesson that sometimes the greatest of riches can come in a plain wrapper, even one that's wrinkled and banged-up some. May we all learn to look beyond externals and learn to appreciate unique people like the John Haines' of the world.
Kirby, WV, was by no means a Mayberry - in reality the place was poverty-stricken, and many people in town unfortunately did not live in the most ideal of settings as alcoholism, abuse, and other issues plagued many people there. But, one thing it did have in common with the fictional Mayberry was its own version of Otis. John Haines was quite the character - he drank like the fictional Otis, looked like a shorter version of Jed Clampett from The Beverly Hillbillies, and if you saw him walk it would remind you of a cross between Foster Brooks and Charlie Chaplin. However, despite appearances, John had a lot of complexity that many did not really see unless you got the chance to know him and talk to him. Fortunately, my mother got to be close with the old fellow, and she gained an appreciation about his life that many people did not realize. Although on the surface John appeared as a drunk who walked funny, he was in reality an astute observer of a lot of things.
We first came across John not long after Mom and I moved to Kirby in the summer of 1980. One of his chores was mowing the lawns in the trailer park the majority of the town lived in, and often John would mow more of the dirt road than he would the grass! One day, Mom felt a little sorry for him, and invited him in for some water to cool off from his mowing, which he did greatly need and appreciate. So, he would drop up for a visit on occasion, and once he found out that Mom could make a decent tomato sandwich (I hated them and didn't eat them, but they were a staple in the summer for others, and Mom would often make herself one for lunch), he would go into Nellie Cox's garden and steal a large tomato, bringing it to the house so Mom could make him a sandwich with a couple of slices of it. As he'd visit, he'd get to where he would talk about things - he didn't say a whole lot to many people, and for some weird reason he didn't trust kids at all (he was of that old school of "children should be seen and not heard," which at the time insulted me but as I grew older and see how kids act today sometimes, it would not be a bad idea for some of them!). Yet, although not overly fond of kids, he didn't hate them either - on one occasion, for instance, John hit the Frito-Lay vendor at Cox's Store up for a small bag of chips, which he gave to me. And, although he exhibited some behavior that made him appear in a constant state of intoxication, in all reality he really did not consume as much as many thought he did - actually, he was alotted a quart of beer a day by Nellie Cox (which, come to find out, he paid for anyway, but we'll get to that shortly), and there was actually another explanation for his behavior that didn't have anything to do with alcohol consumption. Now, I want to talk about that a little as I talk a bit about John's background.
John W. Haines was a native of Hampshire County, and I want to say he was born from somewhere near Slanesville in the east-central part of the county (Kirby was in the southeast corner, quite a distance away). Of course, in that county Haines is a pretty common name anyway, for along with the Hotts and Timbrooks, Haineses make up a significant portion of the residents of the county. He was born in February 1925, and was also a World War II vet, as he had served in the Pacific at that time. While in the military, he was seriously wounded and did have the iconic steel plate in his head. This did affect his motor skills significantly, and had more to do with his odd walk than the alcohol did actually. He was also prone to convulsions, which appeared similar to the grand mal seizures people with epilepsy experience on occasion. When one of those episodes would strike him, John would shake uncontrollably and could not stand up until the seizure passed. His own name for those spells was the "heebie-jeebies," and although he was definitely not epileptic, he did have them with more frequency as he got older. His honorable service and medical discharge actually earned him a comfortable pension for the remainder of his life, but due to his living humbly in a spartan-furnished trailer in Kirby, much of his wealth (and I say that factually - upon his passing, it was discovered that he had a substantial amount of assets which could have given him a more comfortable standard of living) was managed by local land baron Nellie Cox, who was also a distant relative of his. Due to some sensitive nature of the situation, I won't indulge some details of this arrangement, because this is not really the place for it, but suffice to say many people thought something didn't jive with this once it was disclosed that John was actually a man of means. For instance, although it was pretty much established as fact that John had these assets, he often had to beg for his daily quart of beer, and people felt sorry for the fact he had to live like he did, and many thought it was also unnecessary. John was not a bum, nor was he some freeloading riff-raff - he actually asked for very little in life, and largely minded his own business. Again, sometimes appearances can be deceiving, and John did often use the "dumb wino" act to learn a lot of things, and he had some pretty astute observations although many of the secrets he possessed went to the grave with him. I think too that was one reason why he often was not open to many people and had a genuine mistrust of kids and others - kids do tend to spit out things they shouldn't at times, and I think John knew that. Whatever the whole story - which we may never find out anyway - there was definitely more than met the eye when it came to John Haines.
When I was about 12 or 13, somehow one of the neighborhood people found out how to get an old TV John had operational at his place, and being we didn't own a TV set at the time, John gladly offered to let me watch his when I wanted to, as he had little use for it. So, for the first time in a matter of years, I was able to watch cartoons and Friday night sitcoms, which provided a little activity in a town where choices of entertainment were limited. In time, on weeknights several of us - including Mom, me, and one of John's oldest friends, a fidgety little fellow by the name of Guy Bowman - would spend the evening watching television at John's place. Those proved to be enjoyable diversions at the time, and it was actually fun to be able to do simple activities like watching a TV show when so much of that poverty-stricken town was often depressing.
Despite living pretty simply and having a relatively stress-free life, complications from a variety of health issues began to take their toll on John, as at times toward the end he would even not be seen for days. On one chilly February morning in 1983, someone decided to check on him because they hadn't seen him for a while. That year, I was finishing up the 6th grade and was on the verge of entering adolescence, and therefore I was still relatively young at the time. I also do not recall who went to John's house that day, but they found him - he had passed away not long before he was discovered, and the "official" reports said he suffered a fatal heart attack. He was at the time only 58 years old - or, he would have been, as he passed shortly before his 58th birthday. Nellie Cox took care of his funeral arrangements, and that was one of the first funerals I attended, and also one of three times I was a pallbearer. It was a true honor though to bear John's remains to their final resting-place, and it was also humbling - the weather that day was overcast but also a little warm for February in that neck of the woods. John was buried close to where he was born, in Slanesville at the Salem Church Cemetery. He was missed by many, as he was actually a very iconic figure in town and almost everyone who lived there had a fondness for him.
One interesting and amusing story also comes to mind about John. Sometime around the middle of 1982, this family of really dumb stereotypical hillbillies consisting of an elderly woman, Goldie, and her two middle-aged sons, Vernon and Boyd, moved into the small house just across the street from John's trailer. Goldie was a nosy busybody, suffered from bad illiteracy (she could not even write her own name!) and in general she was just a pain in the butt! On one occasion, John really had to go to the bathroom and he was booking it over to his trailer from the store. Anyone who has the classic "short hold and heavy load" knows that feeling well - you have to go, and you have to go now! But, of course, old nosy Goldie saw him, and had to ask where he was going - so, in explicit terms, he told her, as he was exasperated anyway! She never did that again! We all laughed about that one for years. Also, John loved country music, and often when he'd get a little tipsy he would sport this huge button someone gave him emblazoned with "I Like Girls!" on it, and then proceed to serenade anyone who would listen with his own unique rendition of Kenny Rogers' song "Lucille." Interesting enough, in my first year of college there was a classmate of ours who actually bore an uncanny resemblance to John by the name of Randy Vaughn, who we all endearingly called "RV" for short. RV was much younger (mid-20's then) but he walked the same, talked the same, and his story involved a similar injury - RV was involved in a car accident which gave him a condition similar to cerebral palsy (which many though John also had, interesting enough), but the only difference (and a scary one too!) was that RV drove a car! And Lord have mercy, that was an experience to be talked about at another time! Fortunately, John never had a car to drive, nor was he in need of one - he seldom left Kirby, and the most risky activity he engaged in was probably mowing the dirt roads in the park and occasionally zinging someone's window with a piece of slate gravel from the road! But, I wanted to briefly mention RV, because when I first met him (and he later became one of my closest friends in school) he made me think almost instantly of John Haines!
The legacy of John Haines could have a lot more detail to it, and unfortunately I don't have a picture anymore to share of him. At one time, Mom had three good photos; one was recent, and the other two were from his World War II days - one was when he enlisted, and the second was after he was injured and got out. That is really too bad, because a good picture of John would have enhanced the story better. Suffice to say though, John was actually a decent guy who although was at first appearances easy to write off as a stumbling drunk, in reality he was actually interesting and more complex under the surface than many knew. He carries a special place in my own story as well, because he is one of those people who does leave a lasting impression. And, despite his limitations, John had a quality of character that these days is rare - he was humble, exercised good judgment, and had wisdom about some things that often went unnoticed due to externals. He imparts a lesson that sometimes the greatest of riches can come in a plain wrapper, even one that's wrinkled and banged-up some. May we all learn to look beyond externals and learn to appreciate unique people like the John Haines' of the world.
Monday, November 18, 2013
Remembering the Cake Walk
Recently, on one of our Tucker County Facebook pages, an interesting discussion about the old cakewalks piqued my memory a little, because it is something I remember fondly. I want to just share some of that with you today.
The cakewalks in my hometown of Hendricks, WV, were tied into the Hick Fair that was a part of the town's tradition for decades. To explain what the Hick Fair was, it dates back to the times the lumber industry was more prominent in the area, and those who processed the lumber from the woods to the railyards were called "woodhicks," hence the name (a "woodhick" was distinct from a lumberjack in that the latter actually had the task of cutting down the trees, while the former processed the cut lumber for production) - many of these "woodhicks" would on their weekends off come into towns like Hendricks to have a good time and kick back a little after a long stretch of work in the railyards. According to Cleta Long's county history, the Hick Fair dated back to 1962 in Hendricks, when the first was held by the local Ruritans (Cleta Long, History of Tucker County {Parsons, WV: McClain Printing, 1996}p. 19). The grounds for the Hick Fair were located between the railroad and the Black Fork River area on the south-central area of town, just adjacent to where my great-grandmother's old place used to be on Charles Street - the Hick Fairgrounds were separated from our area by a thicket of brush bordering what was then Delmar Snyder's old property, just behind the old United Methodist church. Although the Hick Fair itself was held on Labor Day weekend, throughout the year many other events were held in the large pavillion on the grounds, including on Saturday nights the weekly cakewalks. Unfortunately, when the '85 Flood hit Hendricks, it pretty much destroyed the fairgrounds and the Hick Fair is now held nearby at what is called Camp Kidd Park. Any rate, although the Hick Fair and its history is tied into the local cakewalks, I wanted to mention the cakewalks specifically as I remember them.
Back when I was a kid, the weekly cakewalks were held on Saturdays in the evening at the Hick Fair pavilion in Hendricks, and they were usually MC'ed by a prominent local businessman by the name of Luther McCrum. My great-grandmother would usually designate Saturdays as a baking day anyway, and she would bake all the week's bread, etc., and along with that she would often bake a cake for the cakewalks. I remember that, because the house smelled so good on Saturdays with all that baking, and to this day it still makes my mouth water thinking about it. Any rate, Granny's way of unwinding from the day's activities was to participate - as many local ladies did - in the weekly cakewalks, which were fun. So, as a little youngster of 7, I would go with her to those on Saturdays because to be honest I had nothing better to do, and I also had an ambition to actually win one of those delicious cakes. Kids today don't really appreciate the fun in stuff like that as many of us used to, because nowadays it's hard to get many of these kids off their lazy butts and away from the Wii's, cellphones, and computers to actually do a constructive activity. It is another reason I feel blessed many times with being from the generation I am from.
I suppose now I should explain how the cakewalk works. Essentially, you have to get a ticket, which was usually purchased at the door. There were a set number of tickets sold to correspond with a set of numbered squares on the floor, and each number in the square corresponded to a number on the ticket. The sales from the tickets usually went to some local charity as a fundraising project. Any rate, from that point the concept of the game was similar to the childhood "musical chairs," in that as a record or band would play a tune, the participants walked around the squares until the music stopped and a random number was called by the MC. If someone's ticket corresponded to the number on the square, that person won the cake that the walk was for. Ah yes - almost forgot to explain that part! Each cake was put up as a prize for each round, and the person whose number was called won that particular cake. The cakes were usually baked that day by a lot of the local ladies who contributed them, and I remember the great variety of those delicious cakes on display - your mouth would water just looking at them! And, they were all shapes, sizes, and varieties - many were as plain as yellow cakes with chocolate icing, or they would be elaborate confections made with fresh-picked local berries or other different ingredients. Some less-motivated people would even contribute a cake they bought at the local A&P in Parsons from the bakery, but that was fine too - there was no clause saying the cake had to be baked at home, so contributing a "store-bought" cake from the A&P was acceptable as well. Besides, a cake won tasted just as good, whether one of the town ladies baked it from scratch or they got it from the bakery at the store; as kids especially, we didn't really care where it came from, as long as we got to win one.
I remember as a kid really having the ambition to win one of those cakes, and when I went with Granny to the cakewalks I was always praying my number would be called. When it didn't happen, I got ticked off at Luther McCrum (as if it were his fault - he just called as he drew the tickets from the basket) for not calling my number. But, eventually, if you go to enough of those cakewalks, you are bound to win at some point, and one day I finally did! I still remember it - nothing fancy, as it was just a yellow cake with chocolate icing, but I won one! The joy of a 7-year-old kid winning something is an experience that you have to actually be a 7-year-old kid to understand, but I can remember it to this day. As I was talking to some other Tucker County natives the other day about memories of the cakewalks, I found out there were similar memories. And, as I mentioned on the discussion, that day for me was truly and literally a sweet victory - in particular that good homemade chocolate icing! I don't even recall who actually made the cake I won, but I remember I didn't have any complaints about eating it! It is the little joys in life sometimes that are the most memorable, and that one truly was for me.
Since those days, I have attended one cakewalk since - back in 1990 at my step-grandmother's family reunion up at Camp Horseshoe, I was a 20-year-old college student at home on summer break and participated in the cakewalk they had there. I don't recall winning anything, but it was still fun to do. It would be nice if people went back to simple community activities like this, because the old and young both enjoy them. Unfortunately, in the crowded urban environments many of us now live it, that is practically an impossibility due to the fact often we don't even know who the people next door to us are, and in some cases that can be a good thing! The small towns in West Virginia where I grew up were not like that though - not only did you often know everyone in town, but more than likely you were probably related to many of them! I do miss that on occasion, especially when I realize in many aspects how society has depreciated itself in recent years. People are becoming more isolated due to many things, and the sense of community no longer has any relevance to many people like it once did. This new generation, the "Millenials," are a particularly scary group - while they diddle their I-Phones while clad in skinny jeans and hoodies at the local Starbucks, they miss out on so much. Many churches would do well to have more things like cakewalks and less crap like "Christian rock" concerts, because if they did that not only would it enrich the lives of their own members, but it could also be a witness to the community. God is not against having a little clean fun once in a while, and a cakewalk is about as clean as one can get. I know that for much of our society this is unrealistic nowadays, but for those of us who are like-minded, we could form our own communities to hold events like that. That is something many of us should consider. Community cohesiveness and a sense of good values may be the ticket that saves some facet of the nation we live in, and perhaps we need to think about fostering those more. Any rate, I am honored to share some good memories with you again, but that concludes today's thoughts until next time.
The cakewalks in my hometown of Hendricks, WV, were tied into the Hick Fair that was a part of the town's tradition for decades. To explain what the Hick Fair was, it dates back to the times the lumber industry was more prominent in the area, and those who processed the lumber from the woods to the railyards were called "woodhicks," hence the name (a "woodhick" was distinct from a lumberjack in that the latter actually had the task of cutting down the trees, while the former processed the cut lumber for production) - many of these "woodhicks" would on their weekends off come into towns like Hendricks to have a good time and kick back a little after a long stretch of work in the railyards. According to Cleta Long's county history, the Hick Fair dated back to 1962 in Hendricks, when the first was held by the local Ruritans (Cleta Long, History of Tucker County {Parsons, WV: McClain Printing, 1996}p. 19). The grounds for the Hick Fair were located between the railroad and the Black Fork River area on the south-central area of town, just adjacent to where my great-grandmother's old place used to be on Charles Street - the Hick Fairgrounds were separated from our area by a thicket of brush bordering what was then Delmar Snyder's old property, just behind the old United Methodist church. Although the Hick Fair itself was held on Labor Day weekend, throughout the year many other events were held in the large pavillion on the grounds, including on Saturday nights the weekly cakewalks. Unfortunately, when the '85 Flood hit Hendricks, it pretty much destroyed the fairgrounds and the Hick Fair is now held nearby at what is called Camp Kidd Park. Any rate, although the Hick Fair and its history is tied into the local cakewalks, I wanted to mention the cakewalks specifically as I remember them.
Back when I was a kid, the weekly cakewalks were held on Saturdays in the evening at the Hick Fair pavilion in Hendricks, and they were usually MC'ed by a prominent local businessman by the name of Luther McCrum. My great-grandmother would usually designate Saturdays as a baking day anyway, and she would bake all the week's bread, etc., and along with that she would often bake a cake for the cakewalks. I remember that, because the house smelled so good on Saturdays with all that baking, and to this day it still makes my mouth water thinking about it. Any rate, Granny's way of unwinding from the day's activities was to participate - as many local ladies did - in the weekly cakewalks, which were fun. So, as a little youngster of 7, I would go with her to those on Saturdays because to be honest I had nothing better to do, and I also had an ambition to actually win one of those delicious cakes. Kids today don't really appreciate the fun in stuff like that as many of us used to, because nowadays it's hard to get many of these kids off their lazy butts and away from the Wii's, cellphones, and computers to actually do a constructive activity. It is another reason I feel blessed many times with being from the generation I am from.
I suppose now I should explain how the cakewalk works. Essentially, you have to get a ticket, which was usually purchased at the door. There were a set number of tickets sold to correspond with a set of numbered squares on the floor, and each number in the square corresponded to a number on the ticket. The sales from the tickets usually went to some local charity as a fundraising project. Any rate, from that point the concept of the game was similar to the childhood "musical chairs," in that as a record or band would play a tune, the participants walked around the squares until the music stopped and a random number was called by the MC. If someone's ticket corresponded to the number on the square, that person won the cake that the walk was for. Ah yes - almost forgot to explain that part! Each cake was put up as a prize for each round, and the person whose number was called won that particular cake. The cakes were usually baked that day by a lot of the local ladies who contributed them, and I remember the great variety of those delicious cakes on display - your mouth would water just looking at them! And, they were all shapes, sizes, and varieties - many were as plain as yellow cakes with chocolate icing, or they would be elaborate confections made with fresh-picked local berries or other different ingredients. Some less-motivated people would even contribute a cake they bought at the local A&P in Parsons from the bakery, but that was fine too - there was no clause saying the cake had to be baked at home, so contributing a "store-bought" cake from the A&P was acceptable as well. Besides, a cake won tasted just as good, whether one of the town ladies baked it from scratch or they got it from the bakery at the store; as kids especially, we didn't really care where it came from, as long as we got to win one.
I remember as a kid really having the ambition to win one of those cakes, and when I went with Granny to the cakewalks I was always praying my number would be called. When it didn't happen, I got ticked off at Luther McCrum (as if it were his fault - he just called as he drew the tickets from the basket) for not calling my number. But, eventually, if you go to enough of those cakewalks, you are bound to win at some point, and one day I finally did! I still remember it - nothing fancy, as it was just a yellow cake with chocolate icing, but I won one! The joy of a 7-year-old kid winning something is an experience that you have to actually be a 7-year-old kid to understand, but I can remember it to this day. As I was talking to some other Tucker County natives the other day about memories of the cakewalks, I found out there were similar memories. And, as I mentioned on the discussion, that day for me was truly and literally a sweet victory - in particular that good homemade chocolate icing! I don't even recall who actually made the cake I won, but I remember I didn't have any complaints about eating it! It is the little joys in life sometimes that are the most memorable, and that one truly was for me.
Since those days, I have attended one cakewalk since - back in 1990 at my step-grandmother's family reunion up at Camp Horseshoe, I was a 20-year-old college student at home on summer break and participated in the cakewalk they had there. I don't recall winning anything, but it was still fun to do. It would be nice if people went back to simple community activities like this, because the old and young both enjoy them. Unfortunately, in the crowded urban environments many of us now live it, that is practically an impossibility due to the fact often we don't even know who the people next door to us are, and in some cases that can be a good thing! The small towns in West Virginia where I grew up were not like that though - not only did you often know everyone in town, but more than likely you were probably related to many of them! I do miss that on occasion, especially when I realize in many aspects how society has depreciated itself in recent years. People are becoming more isolated due to many things, and the sense of community no longer has any relevance to many people like it once did. This new generation, the "Millenials," are a particularly scary group - while they diddle their I-Phones while clad in skinny jeans and hoodies at the local Starbucks, they miss out on so much. Many churches would do well to have more things like cakewalks and less crap like "Christian rock" concerts, because if they did that not only would it enrich the lives of their own members, but it could also be a witness to the community. God is not against having a little clean fun once in a while, and a cakewalk is about as clean as one can get. I know that for much of our society this is unrealistic nowadays, but for those of us who are like-minded, we could form our own communities to hold events like that. That is something many of us should consider. Community cohesiveness and a sense of good values may be the ticket that saves some facet of the nation we live in, and perhaps we need to think about fostering those more. Any rate, I am honored to share some good memories with you again, but that concludes today's thoughts until next time.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
The Little Babushka
Olga Kovalenko (1920-2005)
In organizing a lot of my memorabilia, I am able to recall a lot of folks over the years I have been blessed with knowing. I have met these people in churches, at work, and in other areas throughout my life, and they are the type of people who essentially leave an impression on you once you get to know them. I try to document the stories of as many of them as possible over the years, as often one can lose touch if you don't recharge the memory cells a little. One of those was a precious little old lady we met some years ago when we attended briefly an Antiochian Orthodox parish in St. Petersburg, FL, and I now want to share a few thoughts about her here with you all.
Olga Kovalenko was a short, stocky little lady who struck me as being the picture of the classic Russian babushka - all she needed was a black shawl and she would have fit the picture well honestly. She was of Belarusyn descent, and at the time we knew her she was around 84 years old. But, she was a sweet little lady who constantly had a cheerful disposition, and she was one of those people you couldn't help but love. A devoutly Russian Orthodox Christian, she attended church faithfully, and the devotion she had for Christ resonated from her countenance. Although the parish she (and we) went to at the time was largely made up of roughly 50% each of Arabic-speaking Middle Eastern people and American converts to Orthodoxy, Olga still felt right at home and the people loved her in that parish.
Olga was born in New Jersey, a fact I had just learned from her obituary after she passed away in May 2005. For some reason, I had thought she was born in Minsk or something, as she would often talk to us at coffee hour after Liturgy and tell us stories about her roots, but it turned out that she was talking about her mother more than anything - her mother was born somewhere in the eastern stretch of the Carpathian Mountains, close to where Belarus, the Ukraine, Poland, and Hungary all sort of converged. As a result, Olga was taught from an early age how to speak several languages, and she knew Polish, Ukrainian, and Russian. While at coffee hour enjoying her donut or baqlawa with a cup of black tea, Olga was a delight to listen to. Many younger people today don't know the true value of just listening to the elder generations, in particular someone as fascinating as this little lady was. I feel as if many young people today are sort of deprived of principle as a result - a shallowness grips the present generation and spreads among it like a cancer (which is why they have no taste by and large, or an idiot like Justin Bieber would not be famous if they did!). Over the years, I have gotten to appreciate hearing the memories of the elders as they talk, and I hope I talk some kids' ears off when I get to be that age too! Any rate, I got to where I looked forward to coffee hour and listening to Olga talk about her life, and what a blessed life it was too.
A short time after we left that particular parish, Olga departed this life to receive her eternal reward. She passed away on May 23, 2005, at the Bayfront Medical Center at the age of 85. I know that many at St. Nicholas Antiochian Orthodox Church missed her too, as she was a much-loved member of that congregation, but as I often say, our loss was heaven's gain.
I have gotten to know many interesting people over the years, but Olga was a special sort - a sweet lady, and also possessed of a great joy of life that she lived to its fullest over her 85 years on this earth. If Olga were alive today, she would have been 98 this past February 24th. Остальная часть вечной, dear Olga, and we'll see you in the hereafter.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Rambling Perspectives
As I write this, it is 4:30AM and I have an unsettling bout of insomnia. After a battle with the state unemployment office yesterday on my mother's behalf, I am still wound up tighter than the girdle on a Pentecostal preacher's wife at an all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast, and a lot of things - many things - have been weighing on my mind the past 24 hours or so. So, as writing is my therapy, I thought this would be a good time to "sound things out."
My mother is a 67-year-old Vietnam veteran and as of the past several months she has been out of work for health reasons. To be totally honest, her situation has looked pretty dismal. I have been really hitting on this whole thing about how some sectors of the population are obsessed with entitlement - they think because of their race, for instance, they are "entitled" to a lot of things. This has caused me to be very vocal about some issues, and some of what I may have said yesterday could be misinterpreted as something it is not. Let me say this right up-front - God created all human beings, regardless of race, etc., in his image, and all human beings regardless of physical factors have rights to basic liberties and such. And, every race has its good and bad people, as human nature is prone to sinful behavior regardless. The problem lies with when one race or group of people, who may have suffered some injustice in the past, decides to reciprocate the injustices on others. With the election of the present administration in Washington, DC, we have seen such a setback in race relations over that very thing, and recently my mother experienced that first-hand. However, to give you an idea of the gravity of this situation, I want to share a story from a few years back in the Saint Petersburg Times that I saved just for an occasion to discuss it like this.
Cathy Salustri was a 34-year-old White lady who in 2005 bought an affordable house in Bartlett Park, a predominantly Black area of Saint Petersburg. Although even some of her Black friends told her this was not a good idea, she went ahead with it anyway. Salustri, a New York native, had grown up in a multi-ethnic community and racism was not something that really was an issue. Then, she moved to Bartlett Park. In December 2005, things from her porch and yard started "walking off," and after a Black suspect jacked a scooter from her house and was apprehended doing it. When she went to court, the guy who stole the scooter was brought up on drug charges, and apparently showed no remorse as he waved and smiled at his buddies - most of whom were Black also - and seemed to be having a good time despite the fact he was being tried for some serious offenses. That really hit Ms. Salustri hard, and it colored her perception of Blacks since. Was Cathy Salustri a racist for thinking that way? I really don't think so, and here is why. First, Salustri struggled with it - she didn't want to feel like that. Second, deep down I really believe she understood that not all Blacks behaved like that, and that image of the lowlife, nonrepentant Black criminal is just as disgraceful for millions of decent hard-working Blacks as it was for Salustri. Cathy Salustri, I believe, is actually a decent person who almost feels powerless to take action on crimes committed against her property - mostly by Blacks unfortunately - because she fears being labeled a "racist," and that has to change. This poor girl finally just couldn't stand it anymore, and she put her house up for sale. I have to be sympathetic to how she feels, because recently something similar happened to us.
One afternoon a couple of months back, I was taking a shower after working on a large project I was doing at home. As I was drying off, I hear this knock at the front door, but am not yet decent to do anything about it, so I look out the peephole in our door. As I do so, some Black woman in a brown dress and floppy white hat reaches up, snatches a windchime off our porch, and then walks off with it! I was a little upset by that. In the neighborhood we live in here, all of our neighbors are White, and many of them are middle-class people who keep to themselves. However, there is a predominantly Black area about 3 blocks south of our house, and my guess is that this is where the thief came from. Mind you, this was around 6 in the evening, and it was still light out, so she did that little stunt in broad daylight! Regrettably, the "n" word sort of rushed through my mind as I thought about this woman, and I have had to repent of that a lot since. Much like Cathy Salustri, I grew up in an area where racism and such was not really common - my small West Virginia town I grew up in didn't have a lot of Blacks, and to be honest the issue never came up. And, even if Black people moved to town, after the people got to know them they were generally integrated into the life of the community and became part of us anyway. And, the Blacks I did know as a kid were by no means criminals, and one of them even became my best friend in school, a guy by the name of Abdul. However, upon moving to Florida to attend college, I was exposed to some things that, well, didn't sit well with me. I have tried to rise above it over the years, but there has been a lot of nonsense going on, as this whole entitlement mentality often grips some of these people and they think their skin color is justification for obnoxious and criminal behavior, and they use it to manipulate the system and they make themselves very unpleasant people to be around. I want to revisit that shortly, but wanted to first share another story related to this which involved my mother recently.
I mentioned that my mother is 67 years old and is a veteran of Vietnam, and for a number of years she has worked as a CNA for several local nursing homes here. Recently, she had to leave her job due to health reasons, and when she did she took a massive financial hit that has left her struggling. So, she decided to apply for unemployment benefits here at what is called a local "one-stop center." Like many of the bureaucratic clusters people call "government agencies," this is no different - surly employees treat the applicants often with indifference and contempt, and the time one has to waste waiting to do business in one of those offices is just ridiculous. At any rate, Mom had to do some of her application process on the computers, which are a complimentary service offered by the state unemployment program to help people find jobs, file paperwork, etc. They are actually a valuable asset - that is, if you are computer literate! My mother though has never hardly used a computer in her life, and of course she needed help. So, she asks this Black administrator for assistance, which is what the guy is paid to do, as he is, as a county employee, rendering a public service. The employee, a fat guy, was more interested in staring at the cleavage of a Black patron that he totally ignored Mom, who by this time had a short fuse. She finally said, "Look, I need some help!" at which time our portly Black friend throws a sheet of paper in front of her and says "Read this!" Mom was understandably frustrated, and she vented later about it to us, referring to that employee utilizing frequent use of the "n" word. My mother does tend to exaggerate some, so quite honestly I took what she said with a grain of salt until we had to go down there yesterday because again, the unemployment office screwed up Mom's benefits and she had to run around like a chicken with her head cut off to fax this and verify that - you wonder why we have a huge deficit of trillions of bucks, right?? Any rate, that Black employee was there, and he was indeed out there flirting with Black patrons in the lobby while a line of exasperated people were waiting to get some help. It is bad enough when you have to go into one of those offices to wait, and wait, and wait, only to be treated rudely like a number by some crass government employee, and then this. Which now leads to some observations I want to make.
Again, I want to reiterate that the bad behavior examples I have talked about in no ways should be used to stereotype all Blacks - many Blacks are good, decent, hardworking people who mind their own business and provide for their families, and they deserve respect for the good work they do. Also, there have been many great Black statesmen - Alan Keyes, Herman Cain, Colin Powell, etc. - who have made an uncompromising stand for traditional values and are fellow soldiers-in-arms with those of us who have similar convictions. Also, there are many stellar Black role models - Bill Cosby comes to mind, as he is not only a talented actor but also the type of individual you'd want as a neighbor. The problem is that you have a significant and very vocal element of the Black population that thinks they "deserve" special entitlements because of the virtue of skin color, and they use this to justify a lot of bad behavior in many cases. These individuals diminish perceptions of Blacks by others, and often a lot of good, decent Blacks have to pay the price for those idiots and their behavior. However, what is worse is that this mentality is reinforced by a group of self-appointed leaders that have accurately been coined "plantation pimps" - people such as Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, James Cone, Jeremiah Wright, and others like them - who, cloaked often in the sacred title of "reverend," exploit religion to shake-down the masses with impositional guilt. And, that is another thing - I get so sick of some segments of the Black population using religion as a means of manipulating and screwing-over other Blacks by preying on their spirituality, and in that case I would say some regulation would be good to close down some of the jackleg "churches" one often finds in Black communities. However, that mentality is actually a more sinister invention of an evil system, which although it exploits the "race card," is actually more racist because it reinforces bad behavior. Let's give a little background on that one.
I have come to understand over the years that an awful lot of historical revisionism has been shoved down the throats of many American schoolchildren from kindergarten to grad school, and as I grow older and more informed, I have had to re-evaluate a lot of the stuff I was taught as a kid. Take for instance the Civil War. If you look at your typical garden variety high school history book, it is going to tell you that slavery was the focal issue of the Civil War, and much of the American public still buys that version. However, the more I look into it, I see a bigger issue. When the Industrial Revolution happened at the end of the 18th century, it made a lot of greedy individuals (the Rockefellers, Morgans, Vanderbilts, etc.) extremely rich, and these greedy individuals worshipped at the altar of the Almighty Buck. As they gained wealth, they also gained a lot of unwarranted influence over government officials, who likewise were often bankrolled by these same greedy people to advance their agendas even at the expense of the precious endowment of the citizen vote. These greedy individuals became Corporate America, and they ironically enough were largely centered on the great population centers of the Northeast. However, these Yankee "robber barons" wanted to expand their territory and fatten their coffers, and the slave trade back then was an area they wanted to invest in. However by the early 1800's, many Southern states began to outlaw the business end of importing and selling slaves, and this created an issue for the "robber barons" and their government stooges, who wanted to also enrich their coffers with unjustified taxation. So, when the South began to say that it could survive on its own without the Federal establishment, and that it wanted to regulate its own revenue, a group of rich New Englanders (many of them more racist than anything!) wanted a piece of the action of the cotton industry, and their flunkies in Washington (in particular "Honest Abe") were more than willing to oblige. So, the "plight" of the slaves, and their ordered emancipation, was used as an excuse to keep Federal control over the South to get those cotton dollars.
Were the corporate "robber barons" as well as "Honest Abe" and his kind in DC really interested in freeing Black slaves? If one studies the evidence, that was the furthest thing from their mind, and to be honest, Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson were more compassionate of Blacks than were Grant and Sherman. Lee freed his slaves long before the war started, but some Union generals wanted to use them for cheap labor in the factories so their corporate bosses could get richer up there. I am about to advance something I have been saying for a long time, and it is controversial. I really feel that if the Feds would have kept their nose out of things, and corporate greed would have been kept in check, in time the South would have had a very peaceful emancipation of its own slaves similar to what Wilberforce did in England some years earlier. You notice that the UK has never had the level of racial tension we have had in the US, haven't you? If certain powers-that-be would have stayed out of the picture, I think today things would be a lot different than what they are now. Therefore, I think instead of people bullying and villifying Southerners on this issue, they need to point fingers at the real culprits - they lived on Wall Street, Boston, and Washington! I have much more I could say on this one, but sufficive to say many Blacks are in a sense victims - they are victims not of Southern attitudes, but rather of Federal and corporate/industrial manipulation. Even today, bad behavior is often encouraged rather than addressed, and in particular the abortion industry - you do realize that Planned Parenthood was the brainchild of a eugenics-driven racist tart by the name of Margaret Sanger, who wanted to exterminate the Black race in this country through abortion. And, in doing so, it seems that Blacks were repressed, suppressed, and oppressed not by Southern farmers, but by Northern business interests; if you encourage bad behavior among Blacks, it will make aborting them more popular. And, that mentality has carried over to today - more young Blacks are in prison, more Black girls are sexually active at an early age, and these behaviors are exploited by corporate-bankrolled crap being churned out in "rap" records and bad movies. And, many Blacks have bought into it themselves, perpetuating that image as an ideal of "Blackness," and therefore further alienating their White and Hispanic neighbors. Does this all sound like a conspiracy theory? Maybe, but take a look at it for yourselves.
I have soapboxed on this enough this morning, and there is so much more that could be said about it too, as it is a subject that needs to be addressed and the truth about a lot of nonsense we have been told needs to be revealed. And, to our Black friends, I need you to remember something - the next time a White person is treated badly by one of your own and utters the "n" word under duress from the experience, don't dismiss that person as a "racist." Rather, maybe you need to understand that the White party in the situation may have no problem with Blacks and doesn't desire to suppress their rights - it just isn't fair for Blacks to discriminate against Whites either, and Blacks should know better. Racism is racism, and just because you're Black doesn't justify it, nor does it justify a White person being racist either; both are equally wrong. Hopefully, that is some food for thought today.
My mother is a 67-year-old Vietnam veteran and as of the past several months she has been out of work for health reasons. To be totally honest, her situation has looked pretty dismal. I have been really hitting on this whole thing about how some sectors of the population are obsessed with entitlement - they think because of their race, for instance, they are "entitled" to a lot of things. This has caused me to be very vocal about some issues, and some of what I may have said yesterday could be misinterpreted as something it is not. Let me say this right up-front - God created all human beings, regardless of race, etc., in his image, and all human beings regardless of physical factors have rights to basic liberties and such. And, every race has its good and bad people, as human nature is prone to sinful behavior regardless. The problem lies with when one race or group of people, who may have suffered some injustice in the past, decides to reciprocate the injustices on others. With the election of the present administration in Washington, DC, we have seen such a setback in race relations over that very thing, and recently my mother experienced that first-hand. However, to give you an idea of the gravity of this situation, I want to share a story from a few years back in the Saint Petersburg Times that I saved just for an occasion to discuss it like this.
Cathy Salustri was a 34-year-old White lady who in 2005 bought an affordable house in Bartlett Park, a predominantly Black area of Saint Petersburg. Although even some of her Black friends told her this was not a good idea, she went ahead with it anyway. Salustri, a New York native, had grown up in a multi-ethnic community and racism was not something that really was an issue. Then, she moved to Bartlett Park. In December 2005, things from her porch and yard started "walking off," and after a Black suspect jacked a scooter from her house and was apprehended doing it. When she went to court, the guy who stole the scooter was brought up on drug charges, and apparently showed no remorse as he waved and smiled at his buddies - most of whom were Black also - and seemed to be having a good time despite the fact he was being tried for some serious offenses. That really hit Ms. Salustri hard, and it colored her perception of Blacks since. Was Cathy Salustri a racist for thinking that way? I really don't think so, and here is why. First, Salustri struggled with it - she didn't want to feel like that. Second, deep down I really believe she understood that not all Blacks behaved like that, and that image of the lowlife, nonrepentant Black criminal is just as disgraceful for millions of decent hard-working Blacks as it was for Salustri. Cathy Salustri, I believe, is actually a decent person who almost feels powerless to take action on crimes committed against her property - mostly by Blacks unfortunately - because she fears being labeled a "racist," and that has to change. This poor girl finally just couldn't stand it anymore, and she put her house up for sale. I have to be sympathetic to how she feels, because recently something similar happened to us.
One afternoon a couple of months back, I was taking a shower after working on a large project I was doing at home. As I was drying off, I hear this knock at the front door, but am not yet decent to do anything about it, so I look out the peephole in our door. As I do so, some Black woman in a brown dress and floppy white hat reaches up, snatches a windchime off our porch, and then walks off with it! I was a little upset by that. In the neighborhood we live in here, all of our neighbors are White, and many of them are middle-class people who keep to themselves. However, there is a predominantly Black area about 3 blocks south of our house, and my guess is that this is where the thief came from. Mind you, this was around 6 in the evening, and it was still light out, so she did that little stunt in broad daylight! Regrettably, the "n" word sort of rushed through my mind as I thought about this woman, and I have had to repent of that a lot since. Much like Cathy Salustri, I grew up in an area where racism and such was not really common - my small West Virginia town I grew up in didn't have a lot of Blacks, and to be honest the issue never came up. And, even if Black people moved to town, after the people got to know them they were generally integrated into the life of the community and became part of us anyway. And, the Blacks I did know as a kid were by no means criminals, and one of them even became my best friend in school, a guy by the name of Abdul. However, upon moving to Florida to attend college, I was exposed to some things that, well, didn't sit well with me. I have tried to rise above it over the years, but there has been a lot of nonsense going on, as this whole entitlement mentality often grips some of these people and they think their skin color is justification for obnoxious and criminal behavior, and they use it to manipulate the system and they make themselves very unpleasant people to be around. I want to revisit that shortly, but wanted to first share another story related to this which involved my mother recently.
I mentioned that my mother is 67 years old and is a veteran of Vietnam, and for a number of years she has worked as a CNA for several local nursing homes here. Recently, she had to leave her job due to health reasons, and when she did she took a massive financial hit that has left her struggling. So, she decided to apply for unemployment benefits here at what is called a local "one-stop center." Like many of the bureaucratic clusters people call "government agencies," this is no different - surly employees treat the applicants often with indifference and contempt, and the time one has to waste waiting to do business in one of those offices is just ridiculous. At any rate, Mom had to do some of her application process on the computers, which are a complimentary service offered by the state unemployment program to help people find jobs, file paperwork, etc. They are actually a valuable asset - that is, if you are computer literate! My mother though has never hardly used a computer in her life, and of course she needed help. So, she asks this Black administrator for assistance, which is what the guy is paid to do, as he is, as a county employee, rendering a public service. The employee, a fat guy, was more interested in staring at the cleavage of a Black patron that he totally ignored Mom, who by this time had a short fuse. She finally said, "Look, I need some help!" at which time our portly Black friend throws a sheet of paper in front of her and says "Read this!" Mom was understandably frustrated, and she vented later about it to us, referring to that employee utilizing frequent use of the "n" word. My mother does tend to exaggerate some, so quite honestly I took what she said with a grain of salt until we had to go down there yesterday because again, the unemployment office screwed up Mom's benefits and she had to run around like a chicken with her head cut off to fax this and verify that - you wonder why we have a huge deficit of trillions of bucks, right?? Any rate, that Black employee was there, and he was indeed out there flirting with Black patrons in the lobby while a line of exasperated people were waiting to get some help. It is bad enough when you have to go into one of those offices to wait, and wait, and wait, only to be treated rudely like a number by some crass government employee, and then this. Which now leads to some observations I want to make.
Again, I want to reiterate that the bad behavior examples I have talked about in no ways should be used to stereotype all Blacks - many Blacks are good, decent, hardworking people who mind their own business and provide for their families, and they deserve respect for the good work they do. Also, there have been many great Black statesmen - Alan Keyes, Herman Cain, Colin Powell, etc. - who have made an uncompromising stand for traditional values and are fellow soldiers-in-arms with those of us who have similar convictions. Also, there are many stellar Black role models - Bill Cosby comes to mind, as he is not only a talented actor but also the type of individual you'd want as a neighbor. The problem is that you have a significant and very vocal element of the Black population that thinks they "deserve" special entitlements because of the virtue of skin color, and they use this to justify a lot of bad behavior in many cases. These individuals diminish perceptions of Blacks by others, and often a lot of good, decent Blacks have to pay the price for those idiots and their behavior. However, what is worse is that this mentality is reinforced by a group of self-appointed leaders that have accurately been coined "plantation pimps" - people such as Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, James Cone, Jeremiah Wright, and others like them - who, cloaked often in the sacred title of "reverend," exploit religion to shake-down the masses with impositional guilt. And, that is another thing - I get so sick of some segments of the Black population using religion as a means of manipulating and screwing-over other Blacks by preying on their spirituality, and in that case I would say some regulation would be good to close down some of the jackleg "churches" one often finds in Black communities. However, that mentality is actually a more sinister invention of an evil system, which although it exploits the "race card," is actually more racist because it reinforces bad behavior. Let's give a little background on that one.
I have come to understand over the years that an awful lot of historical revisionism has been shoved down the throats of many American schoolchildren from kindergarten to grad school, and as I grow older and more informed, I have had to re-evaluate a lot of the stuff I was taught as a kid. Take for instance the Civil War. If you look at your typical garden variety high school history book, it is going to tell you that slavery was the focal issue of the Civil War, and much of the American public still buys that version. However, the more I look into it, I see a bigger issue. When the Industrial Revolution happened at the end of the 18th century, it made a lot of greedy individuals (the Rockefellers, Morgans, Vanderbilts, etc.) extremely rich, and these greedy individuals worshipped at the altar of the Almighty Buck. As they gained wealth, they also gained a lot of unwarranted influence over government officials, who likewise were often bankrolled by these same greedy people to advance their agendas even at the expense of the precious endowment of the citizen vote. These greedy individuals became Corporate America, and they ironically enough were largely centered on the great population centers of the Northeast. However, these Yankee "robber barons" wanted to expand their territory and fatten their coffers, and the slave trade back then was an area they wanted to invest in. However by the early 1800's, many Southern states began to outlaw the business end of importing and selling slaves, and this created an issue for the "robber barons" and their government stooges, who wanted to also enrich their coffers with unjustified taxation. So, when the South began to say that it could survive on its own without the Federal establishment, and that it wanted to regulate its own revenue, a group of rich New Englanders (many of them more racist than anything!) wanted a piece of the action of the cotton industry, and their flunkies in Washington (in particular "Honest Abe") were more than willing to oblige. So, the "plight" of the slaves, and their ordered emancipation, was used as an excuse to keep Federal control over the South to get those cotton dollars.
Were the corporate "robber barons" as well as "Honest Abe" and his kind in DC really interested in freeing Black slaves? If one studies the evidence, that was the furthest thing from their mind, and to be honest, Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson were more compassionate of Blacks than were Grant and Sherman. Lee freed his slaves long before the war started, but some Union generals wanted to use them for cheap labor in the factories so their corporate bosses could get richer up there. I am about to advance something I have been saying for a long time, and it is controversial. I really feel that if the Feds would have kept their nose out of things, and corporate greed would have been kept in check, in time the South would have had a very peaceful emancipation of its own slaves similar to what Wilberforce did in England some years earlier. You notice that the UK has never had the level of racial tension we have had in the US, haven't you? If certain powers-that-be would have stayed out of the picture, I think today things would be a lot different than what they are now. Therefore, I think instead of people bullying and villifying Southerners on this issue, they need to point fingers at the real culprits - they lived on Wall Street, Boston, and Washington! I have much more I could say on this one, but sufficive to say many Blacks are in a sense victims - they are victims not of Southern attitudes, but rather of Federal and corporate/industrial manipulation. Even today, bad behavior is often encouraged rather than addressed, and in particular the abortion industry - you do realize that Planned Parenthood was the brainchild of a eugenics-driven racist tart by the name of Margaret Sanger, who wanted to exterminate the Black race in this country through abortion. And, in doing so, it seems that Blacks were repressed, suppressed, and oppressed not by Southern farmers, but by Northern business interests; if you encourage bad behavior among Blacks, it will make aborting them more popular. And, that mentality has carried over to today - more young Blacks are in prison, more Black girls are sexually active at an early age, and these behaviors are exploited by corporate-bankrolled crap being churned out in "rap" records and bad movies. And, many Blacks have bought into it themselves, perpetuating that image as an ideal of "Blackness," and therefore further alienating their White and Hispanic neighbors. Does this all sound like a conspiracy theory? Maybe, but take a look at it for yourselves.
I have soapboxed on this enough this morning, and there is so much more that could be said about it too, as it is a subject that needs to be addressed and the truth about a lot of nonsense we have been told needs to be revealed. And, to our Black friends, I need you to remember something - the next time a White person is treated badly by one of your own and utters the "n" word under duress from the experience, don't dismiss that person as a "racist." Rather, maybe you need to understand that the White party in the situation may have no problem with Blacks and doesn't desire to suppress their rights - it just isn't fair for Blacks to discriminate against Whites either, and Blacks should know better. Racism is racism, and just because you're Black doesn't justify it, nor does it justify a White person being racist either; both are equally wrong. Hopefully, that is some food for thought today.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Thrower Educational Philosophy 101
I want to share a little story with you to start this off. William Makepeace Thackeray wrote a classic comedy tale back in 1855 called The Rose and the Ring, and the focus of the story was the personages of four young royals in two fictional kingdoms. The first, Prince Giglio, was the son of King Savio of the fictional kingdom of Paflagonia, but his father met an untimely death and was succeeded by his ambition-driven brother Valoroso. In the meantime, in the neighboring (and bitterly rival) kingdom of Crim Tartary was the King Calvofiore, who was overthrown in a coup by one of his generals, Padella. Calvofiore's toddler daughter, Rosalba, in the mayhem of affairs in the palace, was left to basically fend for herself and wandered off into the woods to be raised by wolves. Soon, at Valoroso's palace in Paflagonia, a strange little girl with a raggedy coat and one shoe shows up, and proves so entertaining that Valoroso's daughter, the prissy Princess Angelica, decides to keep her as a pet until she gets bored (which was rather quickly) and the ragamuffin girl, now called Betsinda, becomes the Princess's maid. Padella, now installed as King of Crim Tartary, has a son as well named Bulbo, who later plays into the picture. A key figure linking all these kids together is a mysterious woman called the Fairy Blackstick. It was often tradition at a royal birth to invite Fairy Blackstick to the palace as an honored guest, and usually the good fairy would bestow some special gift upon the new royal child. Upon the princes, Fairy Blackstick bestowed the gifts of a rose (for Bulbo) and a ring (for Giglio) - these gifts had the effect of making the boys handsome and desireable to the opposite sex, but imparted no other value; both boys basically became spoiled brats, a fact not unnoticed by the wise fairy. She finally decided that bestowing these little blessings on spoiled princes and princesses was an exercise in futility, and decided instead to bestow upon the next, Calvofiore's little daughter Rosalba, a gift of a different nature - a little misfortune. This, of course, did not bode well with the parents of the little tyke, and word spread so that when Valoroso's queen gave birth to Angelica, they banned the fairy from even attending. So, the Fairy, upon arriving, was greeted by the doorman, an uncouth sort by the name of Gruffanuff, and after he was rather rude to her she turned him into a brass doorknocker, leaving his ugly widow behind - this widow had a thing for Giglio, and wanted to seduce him to gain a place for herself in the kingdom. However, Giglio was smitten with his cousin Angelica, and gave her a ring, which later she cruelly refused and it got carelessly tossed out the window, only to of course be found by the old widow hag Gruffanuff. The ring made the old crone beautiful, and she used that to her advantage until finally giving the ring to Betsinda, and then all the affections of the male sex were diverted to her. At the same time, the two despots Valoroso and Padella decided it was time to negotiate a treaty between their nations, and Padella sent his son Bulbo, with rose and all, as a goodwill ambassador. The two crooked kings wanted to marry off Angelica to Bulbo in order to seal the alliance, but Giglio was in a jealous rage and gets in a scuff with Bulbo, which in turn gets Giglio banned. Betsinda (who you may have figured out by now is the Princess Rosalba) is now wearing Giglio's ring, and that causes some jealousy among the women of the palace which gets her thrown out. She somehow ends up back in her homeland, spending the night at a deposed nobleman's shanty in the borial forest named Spinachy, who has the rest of her things and reveals that she is the true queen of Crim Tartary. Giglio in the meantime is on a coach rolling out of town, and at a stop a strange lady (the Fairy Blackstick in disguise) accompanies him on the remainder of his trip, giving him a nice meal and a pep talk. Giglio decides it is time to get his life together, enrolls in the university, and some years later he returns to Paflagonia. Rosalba by now is leading a resistance against Padella, whom she soundly defeats and takes her rightful place on the throne of Crim Tartary, and soon too Valoroso's misdeeds find him out and his vizier, a shark named Glumboso, rats him out. Bulbo and Rosalba find out about each other, fall in love, and then the Fairy Blackstick pays them a visit - she explains why they went through a lot, and that a little misfortune motivated them to live up to their potential as they were meant to be. Although a foiled attempt to sabotage that union was launched by old hag Gruffanuff, Blackstick transforms the knocker back into her missing husband, and then Giglio and Rosalba wed, having a happy wedding. A happy ending also awaits Angelica and Bulbo, who likewise are wed. All ends well in the make-believe lands of Paflagonia and Crim Tartary.
A little misfortune - a good message when you think about it, as what Thackeray was communicating was that often adversity builds character. I shared that story to say that so much of today's education lacks something - it has even changed since I was young, and that was just under 40 years! Good literature was meant to communicate good values, as well as honing the comprehension of appreciating reading. And, I have come to believe that reading is the fundamental root of quality education, as it is where it starts. When I was a kid, I was exposed to good literature early thanks in part to a wise investment on Mom's part in a set of books called My Book House, which is also where I got the story from, as I have enjoyed it since I was a kid. The My Book House series was a masterpiece of the late educator Olive Beaupre Miller (1883-1968), and the series itself dates back to 1919, when Miller's company, the Book House for Children, first published them. The current incarnation of the set is 12 volumes, and the latest ones that I purchased back in 1995 are white covers (the original set I had and lost many moons ago was in dark navy and green alternating). They are organized according to age, starting with nursery rhymes (the classic Mother Goose ones at that!) in Volume 1 (titled In The Nursery) and progressing to epic stories such as works by Leo Tolstoy in Volume 12 (titled Halls of Fame). In between is a great collection of Aesop fables, Greek mythology, Bible stories, ethnic folk tales, real-life stories of famous people, poetry, songs, and excerpts from classic literature (a neat chapter of Charles Dickens' David Copperfield is found in Volume 7, which is titled The Magic Garden). I still actually enjoy reading those volumes even today, as there is something relaxing in reading those stories that stimulates even the imagination of an adult.
The authors of this informative little book were Edith and Ernest Bonhivert, and it was published in 1967 originally. It was organized by categories, such as "About Ourselves," which dealt with human biology and opened the book, and covered every category of natural sciences, economics, and history that could be imagined. Much of the information is still relevant today, although a few things are outdated too.
As I grew, so did my reading - I was introduced to works like those of Robert Newton Peck, William Saroyan, and others, and they helped me develop better. As I read, I became interested in other things as well - cooking, music, etc., many of the interests I still possess today. Now that I gave this overview, let me give you a philosophy of education I have developed over the years.
In order for a child to succeed in his or her studies, their imagination must be stimulated. Therefore, it is important to realize that they need to be challenged with what they read. Much of today education is glorified, unionized babysitting, with a bunch of complacent, discontented teachers droning meaningless facts in classrooms in a tone that would make Ben Stein sound hyper. That, compounded by the short attention spans of many of today's kids (attention-deficit disorder is not an exception, but is the rule nowadays!) as they rot their brains and give themselves carpal-tunnel before they reach puberty with all the texts, tweets, social media, X-boxes, etc. Many of these kids don't have the patience to sit down and actually read a good book because their educators are too busy either going after a fast buck or messing around with activism rather than educating. Many kids are masters these days of political correctness, but they are culturally illiterate. Worse, many have texted their brains out on their smartphones so much that they can't even spell correctly (some even think that "LOL" is an actual word!). Our kids now can read "classics" like Heather Has Two Mommies as part of the required first-grade curriculum, but heaven forbid you read your kids anything that mentions Uncle Remus! As for Bible stories, that has become a big no-no - kids are being expelled for carrying a New Testament in their backpacks now, but their teachers hand kindergarteners condoms at whim (what are they going to do with those anyway - prickly, phallic-shaped water balloons maybe?). We are raising a generation that is, frankly, both sensitive (and not in a good way either!) and stupid at the same time. Then on weekends kids are sitting there diddling their I-Pods today when back when I was that age I was out catching crawdads, fishing, building forts, and picking berries. The reason is that these kids today have nothing to stimulate their imagination. A no-talent twirp like Justin Bieber or an offensive slut like Miley Cyrus have become their role models, and instead of being out building forts and playing cowboys-and-Indians, our boys are subjected to a diet of TV that features a bunch of gay choirboys on Glee or some Kardashian tart's gyrating, half-naked butt that just mysteriously pops up on their Facebook page. With a decline in good values comes a decline in intellectual development.
If any of this generation is to be salvaged, it is time to take them back to the basics - make those kids read Hans Christian Anderson's Snow Queen, Dickens' Oliver Twist, and regale them with the great Greek myths of heroes like Hercules, or better yet, Biblical stories of real heroes. Get those kids off their butts, out of the house, and put them to work - incentives help too. When I was in school, for instance, we had pretty clearly-defined systems of reward and punishment. For instance, in my third-grade teacher Mrs. Moran's class, if you got out-of-line, you had to hold up to six large dictionaries in a corner for 20 minutes or you wrote 100+ times sentences stating "I will not______".
But, if you excelled, you got rewarded - one teacher I remember gave us tokens which at the end of the week we could redeem from the Weekly Reader book catalog - the more you read and applied yourself, the more tokens you earned. However, that same teacher - my 5th and 6th grade teacher, the late Guy Dispanet (1939-1993) - would make you run laps around the back field at our school (Oh, how I hated that!). Although it took some work on the student's part, it paid off - you learned character and responsibility that way. Also, in those days teachers were not shy about applying a little corporal punishment - 5 whacks in the principal's office with a heavy wooden paddle was a good motivation to behave oneself! And, perhaps if our kids had more role models like Mr. Rogers or Captain Kangaroo (or Miss Sally from Romper Room for the really young tykes - any of my fellow geezers remember these?) they might turn out better than they have in many cases.
Another issue today is this whole deal with entitlement. People don't want to apply themselves, invest the effort, and enjoy the fruits of their labor - rather, they go to school, take courses in basket-weaving and "How to Love Your Lesbian Dad," and then they think they have a right to demand everything be handed to them on a silver platter (thanks Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton, the two original "plantation pimps" of entitlement!). Lawrence Welk, an unlettered scion of Volga German immigrants from North Dakota who later became one of the most famous big bandleaders of all time, stated it best in his book This I Believe (Engelwood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1979) when he said on page 27 when he observed the following:
"Actually, I believe they (young people) know it instinctively. Most young people are itching to 'do,' to 'act,' to learn for themselves. The problem is that we make it unreasonably difficult for them, with our child labor and minimum wage laws. And we stop them at just the time in life when they learn quickest and best."
Welk wrote this in 1979 - he would be turning over in his grave today if he witnessed what has happened in the 21 years since his passing in 1992! Phil Robertson, of Duck Dynasty fame, adds a little personal perspective as well when he wrote in his book, Happy, Happy, Happy (New York: Howard Books, 2013) this: "we didn't have much, but we loved each other and found ways to keep each other entertained. We didn't have cellphones or computers, but somehow we managed to survive. As far as I know, none of my brothers or sisters has ever owned a cell phone...I can promise you one thing: you'll never find me on Twitter or Skype. If anyone needs to talk to me, they know where I live." (pp. 20-21). Tying those two diverse backgrounds together, here is what I get out of it - young people want to learn for themselves, and can use their time constructively to do so. However, Corporate America (the bane of true intelligence) has manufactured a number of convenient distractions that stifle this natural inquisitive nature and resourcefulness, and the result has been devastating. And, parents and teachers alike have encouraged this mental laziness. So, as our kids sit around getting fatter and stupider, Corporate America fiddles like Nero. Like Welk also said, we stifle kids' natural self-sufficiency too. I can relate to all this. When I was growing up, computers were the stuff of science fiction, and I wasn't exposed to my first one until my 6th grade year in 1983. I didn't even use one until much later, when I was 28 years old in 1998. I am still more comfortable today with hard-copy and bound books than I am with all these Kindles and such, and if someone sends me something online, it does me little use until I can actually print it out and hold it in my hand. Many people are even less computer-literate - my mother has never touched one hardly, and she's actually sort of afraid of them! Computers have sort of become a fact of life now, but my concern is that life is often built around them way too much. Sometimes it is good to just step away from the computer a while and let the brain do what God created it to do. Good parents will admonish their kids to do just that. Reading books is indeed a lost art, and what a tragedy it is too.
Math skills are also not as great among the younger generation. As a kid, I hated math, and thanks be to God for strict teachers that made me stretch my brain, I learned it fast - one of those teachers that comes to mind is Dorothy Schwer (whose last name in German, ironically, actually means "difficult" - the joke in German class when I was in high school concerning her was "Ist Frau Schwer schwer?")
However hardnosed she seemed to be then, however, she knew how to make students apply themselves. As I get older, it is ironic that the meanest, strictest teachers I had throughout my formative years (Dispanet and Schwer come to mind!) turned out being the ones I appreciated the best later. Good teachers don't do what they do to be liked, but rather to make the students learn, which is their job. Not all good teachers are that strict though - I have had other teachers, such as my high school English teacher, Mrs. Vivian McConnell (1920-2012), whom I kept in touch with for years because she made her lessons come alive and become applicable to their students. Then, there is Thomas Englemann, a tall (over 6-foot) lanky guy with a long ponytail in honor of his Indian heritage, who gave me a listening ear and tremendous encouragement at a time when I was in junior high school and often looked down upon because I was somewhat eccentric then. A good well-rounded education needs both the McConnells and the Schwers, the Dispanets and the Engelmanns, because all of these educators contribute something to a kid's development that they need. Some teachers one may hate at first - doing math problems on a certain type of paper or running laps at recess around a field in your street clothes may not initially endear the educators instituting those measures well at first, and I can attest - but as one does grow older and wiser, reflection brings appreciation when something that teacher said or did 30+ years ago all of a sudden clicks - the classic "AHA!" moment, which I sure you all can relate to. Take time, therefore, to appreciate your old teachers. Some of them may no longer be in this life, as they may have passed onto their eternal reward, but you are their legacy, and that is honorable in and of itself.
I hope you didn't mind indulging me these ramblings tonight, as I have been thinking about this subject for a while and wanted to write about it. Many of yesterday's kids are now today's parents - have you asked your kids about those teachers they have instructing them, and have you encouraged them to maybe keep a journal or something of those observations? If not, please do so - I honestly can say I regret not keeping journals earlier than what I have, and what a loss of perspective that was. Your kids need to chronicle what is important in their life now, and they need to start preserving the legacy they have today. Good teachers are some of the architects of that legacy, and if we encourage kids to appreciate that more, it might give hope to this generation yet. Take care until next time.
The hideous Mrs. Gruffanuff, an original illustration from Thackeray's classic work
A little misfortune - a good message when you think about it, as what Thackeray was communicating was that often adversity builds character. I shared that story to say that so much of today's education lacks something - it has even changed since I was young, and that was just under 40 years! Good literature was meant to communicate good values, as well as honing the comprehension of appreciating reading. And, I have come to believe that reading is the fundamental root of quality education, as it is where it starts. When I was a kid, I was exposed to good literature early thanks in part to a wise investment on Mom's part in a set of books called My Book House, which is also where I got the story from, as I have enjoyed it since I was a kid. The My Book House series was a masterpiece of the late educator Olive Beaupre Miller (1883-1968), and the series itself dates back to 1919, when Miller's company, the Book House for Children, first published them. The current incarnation of the set is 12 volumes, and the latest ones that I purchased back in 1995 are white covers (the original set I had and lost many moons ago was in dark navy and green alternating). They are organized according to age, starting with nursery rhymes (the classic Mother Goose ones at that!) in Volume 1 (titled In The Nursery) and progressing to epic stories such as works by Leo Tolstoy in Volume 12 (titled Halls of Fame). In between is a great collection of Aesop fables, Greek mythology, Bible stories, ethnic folk tales, real-life stories of famous people, poetry, songs, and excerpts from classic literature (a neat chapter of Charles Dickens' David Copperfield is found in Volume 7, which is titled The Magic Garden). I still actually enjoy reading those volumes even today, as there is something relaxing in reading those stories that stimulates even the imagination of an adult.
Olive Beaupre Miller (1883-1968), who created the My Book House series
This is the inside cover of each of the Book House volumes, which was masterfully done and could spark the imagination of any child. These beautiful illustrations were found all throughout the series.
However, the My Book House series was not the only source of quality literature I had. At one point in time, my mother had contemplated a call to the ministry and I believe even went to Bible school for a short time. When she pursued this, she purchased a three-volume Bible reference set that included a Bible dictionary, a concordance, and a Bible story book. The story book I remember well - it had a reddish brown cover and was called Beautiful Bible Stories, published by Southwest Publishing Company. That book of Bible stories, along with my natural historical curiosity, is largely responsible for motivating me to read the Bible for myself. And, it was one of the greatest gifts Mom could have given me.
I had also, when I was around 6 or so years of age, found a small book that provided good basic scientific knowledge for an inquisitive mind as well. It was published by Child Horizons, and the little book was entitled Questions Children Ask. I had long ago lost my original copy, but managed to find another one a couple of years back, thanks to E-Bay. It is a good resource to answer basic questions about how water becomes steam, etc., that a lot of kids ask at certain ages.
As I grew, so did my reading - I was introduced to works like those of Robert Newton Peck, William Saroyan, and others, and they helped me develop better. As I read, I became interested in other things as well - cooking, music, etc., many of the interests I still possess today. Now that I gave this overview, let me give you a philosophy of education I have developed over the years.
In order for a child to succeed in his or her studies, their imagination must be stimulated. Therefore, it is important to realize that they need to be challenged with what they read. Much of today education is glorified, unionized babysitting, with a bunch of complacent, discontented teachers droning meaningless facts in classrooms in a tone that would make Ben Stein sound hyper. That, compounded by the short attention spans of many of today's kids (attention-deficit disorder is not an exception, but is the rule nowadays!) as they rot their brains and give themselves carpal-tunnel before they reach puberty with all the texts, tweets, social media, X-boxes, etc. Many of these kids don't have the patience to sit down and actually read a good book because their educators are too busy either going after a fast buck or messing around with activism rather than educating. Many kids are masters these days of political correctness, but they are culturally illiterate. Worse, many have texted their brains out on their smartphones so much that they can't even spell correctly (some even think that "LOL" is an actual word!). Our kids now can read "classics" like Heather Has Two Mommies as part of the required first-grade curriculum, but heaven forbid you read your kids anything that mentions Uncle Remus! As for Bible stories, that has become a big no-no - kids are being expelled for carrying a New Testament in their backpacks now, but their teachers hand kindergarteners condoms at whim (what are they going to do with those anyway - prickly, phallic-shaped water balloons maybe?). We are raising a generation that is, frankly, both sensitive (and not in a good way either!) and stupid at the same time. Then on weekends kids are sitting there diddling their I-Pods today when back when I was that age I was out catching crawdads, fishing, building forts, and picking berries. The reason is that these kids today have nothing to stimulate their imagination. A no-talent twirp like Justin Bieber or an offensive slut like Miley Cyrus have become their role models, and instead of being out building forts and playing cowboys-and-Indians, our boys are subjected to a diet of TV that features a bunch of gay choirboys on Glee or some Kardashian tart's gyrating, half-naked butt that just mysteriously pops up on their Facebook page. With a decline in good values comes a decline in intellectual development.
If any of this generation is to be salvaged, it is time to take them back to the basics - make those kids read Hans Christian Anderson's Snow Queen, Dickens' Oliver Twist, and regale them with the great Greek myths of heroes like Hercules, or better yet, Biblical stories of real heroes. Get those kids off their butts, out of the house, and put them to work - incentives help too. When I was in school, for instance, we had pretty clearly-defined systems of reward and punishment. For instance, in my third-grade teacher Mrs. Moran's class, if you got out-of-line, you had to hold up to six large dictionaries in a corner for 20 minutes or you wrote 100+ times sentences stating "I will not______".
But, if you excelled, you got rewarded - one teacher I remember gave us tokens which at the end of the week we could redeem from the Weekly Reader book catalog - the more you read and applied yourself, the more tokens you earned. However, that same teacher - my 5th and 6th grade teacher, the late Guy Dispanet (1939-1993) - would make you run laps around the back field at our school (Oh, how I hated that!). Although it took some work on the student's part, it paid off - you learned character and responsibility that way. Also, in those days teachers were not shy about applying a little corporal punishment - 5 whacks in the principal's office with a heavy wooden paddle was a good motivation to behave oneself! And, perhaps if our kids had more role models like Mr. Rogers or Captain Kangaroo (or Miss Sally from Romper Room for the really young tykes - any of my fellow geezers remember these?) they might turn out better than they have in many cases.
Another issue today is this whole deal with entitlement. People don't want to apply themselves, invest the effort, and enjoy the fruits of their labor - rather, they go to school, take courses in basket-weaving and "How to Love Your Lesbian Dad," and then they think they have a right to demand everything be handed to them on a silver platter (thanks Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton, the two original "plantation pimps" of entitlement!). Lawrence Welk, an unlettered scion of Volga German immigrants from North Dakota who later became one of the most famous big bandleaders of all time, stated it best in his book This I Believe (Engelwood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1979) when he said on page 27 when he observed the following:
"Actually, I believe they (young people) know it instinctively. Most young people are itching to 'do,' to 'act,' to learn for themselves. The problem is that we make it unreasonably difficult for them, with our child labor and minimum wage laws. And we stop them at just the time in life when they learn quickest and best."
Welk wrote this in 1979 - he would be turning over in his grave today if he witnessed what has happened in the 21 years since his passing in 1992! Phil Robertson, of Duck Dynasty fame, adds a little personal perspective as well when he wrote in his book, Happy, Happy, Happy (New York: Howard Books, 2013) this: "we didn't have much, but we loved each other and found ways to keep each other entertained. We didn't have cellphones or computers, but somehow we managed to survive. As far as I know, none of my brothers or sisters has ever owned a cell phone...I can promise you one thing: you'll never find me on Twitter or Skype. If anyone needs to talk to me, they know where I live." (pp. 20-21). Tying those two diverse backgrounds together, here is what I get out of it - young people want to learn for themselves, and can use their time constructively to do so. However, Corporate America (the bane of true intelligence) has manufactured a number of convenient distractions that stifle this natural inquisitive nature and resourcefulness, and the result has been devastating. And, parents and teachers alike have encouraged this mental laziness. So, as our kids sit around getting fatter and stupider, Corporate America fiddles like Nero. Like Welk also said, we stifle kids' natural self-sufficiency too. I can relate to all this. When I was growing up, computers were the stuff of science fiction, and I wasn't exposed to my first one until my 6th grade year in 1983. I didn't even use one until much later, when I was 28 years old in 1998. I am still more comfortable today with hard-copy and bound books than I am with all these Kindles and such, and if someone sends me something online, it does me little use until I can actually print it out and hold it in my hand. Many people are even less computer-literate - my mother has never touched one hardly, and she's actually sort of afraid of them! Computers have sort of become a fact of life now, but my concern is that life is often built around them way too much. Sometimes it is good to just step away from the computer a while and let the brain do what God created it to do. Good parents will admonish their kids to do just that. Reading books is indeed a lost art, and what a tragedy it is too.
Math skills are also not as great among the younger generation. As a kid, I hated math, and thanks be to God for strict teachers that made me stretch my brain, I learned it fast - one of those teachers that comes to mind is Dorothy Schwer (whose last name in German, ironically, actually means "difficult" - the joke in German class when I was in high school concerning her was "Ist Frau Schwer schwer?")
However hardnosed she seemed to be then, however, she knew how to make students apply themselves. As I get older, it is ironic that the meanest, strictest teachers I had throughout my formative years (Dispanet and Schwer come to mind!) turned out being the ones I appreciated the best later. Good teachers don't do what they do to be liked, but rather to make the students learn, which is their job. Not all good teachers are that strict though - I have had other teachers, such as my high school English teacher, Mrs. Vivian McConnell (1920-2012), whom I kept in touch with for years because she made her lessons come alive and become applicable to their students. Then, there is Thomas Englemann, a tall (over 6-foot) lanky guy with a long ponytail in honor of his Indian heritage, who gave me a listening ear and tremendous encouragement at a time when I was in junior high school and often looked down upon because I was somewhat eccentric then. A good well-rounded education needs both the McConnells and the Schwers, the Dispanets and the Engelmanns, because all of these educators contribute something to a kid's development that they need. Some teachers one may hate at first - doing math problems on a certain type of paper or running laps at recess around a field in your street clothes may not initially endear the educators instituting those measures well at first, and I can attest - but as one does grow older and wiser, reflection brings appreciation when something that teacher said or did 30+ years ago all of a sudden clicks - the classic "AHA!" moment, which I sure you all can relate to. Take time, therefore, to appreciate your old teachers. Some of them may no longer be in this life, as they may have passed onto their eternal reward, but you are their legacy, and that is honorable in and of itself.
I hope you didn't mind indulging me these ramblings tonight, as I have been thinking about this subject for a while and wanted to write about it. Many of yesterday's kids are now today's parents - have you asked your kids about those teachers they have instructing them, and have you encouraged them to maybe keep a journal or something of those observations? If not, please do so - I honestly can say I regret not keeping journals earlier than what I have, and what a loss of perspective that was. Your kids need to chronicle what is important in their life now, and they need to start preserving the legacy they have today. Good teachers are some of the architects of that legacy, and if we encourage kids to appreciate that more, it might give hope to this generation yet. Take care until next time.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Recent Ramblings and Ponderings
Well, I don't know how to really start except to go impromptu on this one and see where it goes. A lot has been on my mind lately, and as I sit here at 11:30 at night I wanted to see if I couldn't make some order out of all those random thoughts in such a way as to inspire inspiration. So, I suppose a good place to begin would be to start with what comes off the top of my head. My writing mentor, Robert Newton Peck, encouraged me to do it that way, as that is how he writes too. He notes in his book, How To Write Fiction Like A Pro (Gainesville, FL: Maupin House, 2006) that writing is "show business" - you don't tell it, in other words, but you show it. I am not sure what I am showing you this late hour, but I will give it my darndest try!
One thought that comes to mind is the past week. I have unfortunately been laid-off from work for a while, and to be honest we have hit a bit of a dry spell. My mother has also been out of work too, and her situation is worse (long story there!), and to be honest, when trying to rise above my own limitations it sort of drives me nuts to hear her lamentations. In order to create a little diversion for both of us lately and to diffuse the situation, I have introduced Mom to Google Maps, which honestly is a fantastic innovation since it has street views and you can practically do virtual trips while sitting at the comfort of your computer desk. For some who know me, I have been on this little adventure of self-discovery - family genealogy, researching things from my own past, etc. - and have used tools like Google Maps to aid in that endeavor. One day, I hope to compile all that information into a memoir book, and in a sense writing stuff like this is like a test run of the bigger project. Introducing Mom to Google Maps actually helped her a little, as she was able to also help me with some things, particularly where we used to live in Baltimore when I was a kid, among other things. When she comes up of a day to visit, the amusing little joke we have now is her asking, "So, where do you want to drive today?" It has been fun, but also some other inspiration came out of it too. One thing I recall from my days in Kirby, WV, was the local radio station, WELD-AM in Fisher, WV, a little town on a backroad between Moorefield and Petersburg. Although a country station back then (and I am not a huge fan of country music, save Western swing of course!) WELD was also a source for much of the local happenings. And, music aside, there was a sort of comfort to listening to that little station - it was as if you got to know the announcers. Some of you old fogeys like me remember the local AM stations, so I know you understand what I am talking about. That was in the days before greedy corporations swallowed up the local stations and screwed up their formats. It was the same on Sunday nights, which as you may recall from my earlier work I listened to Henry Boggen on WBT-AM out of Charlotte, NC, the station that basically introduced me to vintage big band music and is largely responsible for the 1170+ CD collection I have over here to my right today. Good music is so hard to find these days on the radio dial - I honestly hardly listen anymore to radio save the rare occasion I can pick up XM stations, which do broadcast a lot of what AM used to. Local AM radio though was so comforting then, and like Saturday morning cartoons now it is unfortunately a fading memory that only a few of us share, as the Millenials don't have a clue in most cases. It is a shame what they miss out on, isn't it?
One thought that comes to mind is the past week. I have unfortunately been laid-off from work for a while, and to be honest we have hit a bit of a dry spell. My mother has also been out of work too, and her situation is worse (long story there!), and to be honest, when trying to rise above my own limitations it sort of drives me nuts to hear her lamentations. In order to create a little diversion for both of us lately and to diffuse the situation, I have introduced Mom to Google Maps, which honestly is a fantastic innovation since it has street views and you can practically do virtual trips while sitting at the comfort of your computer desk. For some who know me, I have been on this little adventure of self-discovery - family genealogy, researching things from my own past, etc. - and have used tools like Google Maps to aid in that endeavor. One day, I hope to compile all that information into a memoir book, and in a sense writing stuff like this is like a test run of the bigger project. Introducing Mom to Google Maps actually helped her a little, as she was able to also help me with some things, particularly where we used to live in Baltimore when I was a kid, among other things. When she comes up of a day to visit, the amusing little joke we have now is her asking, "So, where do you want to drive today?" It has been fun, but also some other inspiration came out of it too. One thing I recall from my days in Kirby, WV, was the local radio station, WELD-AM in Fisher, WV, a little town on a backroad between Moorefield and Petersburg. Although a country station back then (and I am not a huge fan of country music, save Western swing of course!) WELD was also a source for much of the local happenings. And, music aside, there was a sort of comfort to listening to that little station - it was as if you got to know the announcers. Some of you old fogeys like me remember the local AM stations, so I know you understand what I am talking about. That was in the days before greedy corporations swallowed up the local stations and screwed up their formats. It was the same on Sunday nights, which as you may recall from my earlier work I listened to Henry Boggen on WBT-AM out of Charlotte, NC, the station that basically introduced me to vintage big band music and is largely responsible for the 1170+ CD collection I have over here to my right today. Good music is so hard to find these days on the radio dial - I honestly hardly listen anymore to radio save the rare occasion I can pick up XM stations, which do broadcast a lot of what AM used to. Local AM radio though was so comforting then, and like Saturday morning cartoons now it is unfortunately a fading memory that only a few of us share, as the Millenials don't have a clue in most cases. It is a shame what they miss out on, isn't it?
The old WELD radio station, Fisher, WV
Speaking of things committed to memory, I heard in the news this week that the old Piggly Wiggly stores are closing. We never had many of those in northern West Virginia where I was from, but I do remember them vividly when I used to visit Dad in Brunswick, GA, as a kid. Also, back in my early college days, there was a Piggly Wiggly near the campus in Graceville, FL, many of us students relied upon for our shopping needs. I always liked the Piggly Wiggly stores, as they were a lot more homey and less frigid than your typical supermarket. Back when I was a kid, there was a similar chain with a store in Martinsburg, WV, called Acme Grocery. Last I heard about the latter, it was bought out by Albertsons, which itself has downsized here on its home turf in Florida. Things I remember which are now closed or forgotten - must be my age, as I am sitting on the doorstep of 44 now. Grocery stores, AM radio stations, restaurants...so much good stuff, and so many good memories too.
What is even more shocking is the number of people in recent years I have known a significant part of my life that have passed away. Recently, due to having the time to work on it in lieu of my unfortunate layoff, I compiled all the obituaries I have collected over the years in a large GBC'ed book that I am placing on the shelf with other memorabilia for easy reference. It seems like the older I get, the more obituaries I collect. I have gotten to the point that I look through local papers of places I grew up in to see if anyone I know has met their maker yet, and then I print out the obituaries to add to my book. Bizarre and pathetic? Maybe, but at the same time it is also a humbling reminder of my own rapid approach of the half-century mark in a few short years - well, that and the rapidly-graying hairs on my head and my expanding middle - I don't even look like the same person I was, as I looked almost malnourished when I was in my teens and twenties. The recent change of seasons has also awakened another harbinger of my approaching agism - for three weeks I have had probably the worst aches and pains in my right arm and elbow, largely due to an injury I suffered as a toddler in which I broke my right elbow. Who needs Al Roker when you have Art Thrytis, right?
On a more serious note, it really gets to a person after being laid-off for a while too. You work your butt off to hone your skills, have good and raving reviews from your former bosses, and also have striven to get a higher education, and no one pays attention. I plan on soapboxing on this a little, because it has really been sticking in my craw for a number of years -it isn't going to be the most politically-correct thing to say either, but who cares. It is no big secret that Corporate America is all about big bucks, and they don't care what they do or who they step on to get that wealth. Originally, capitalism was designed for the cottage industry, the "mom-and-pop shop," and the ambitious individual who wanted to make a living by turning a passion for something into something profitable. Then, two things happened - the Industrial Revolution and Big Government. Many of the biggest and oldest corporations today were birthed by "Robber Barons" who drove the Industrial Revolution, and they got where they are by the worship of the Almighty Buck. Quality took a back seat to mass-production, and what happened was that cheaper, inferior quality products flooded the market and made the rest of America lazy. In the process, we lost quality. These corporations have gotten so greedy now that in Bolivia a few years back one greedy corporate raider in San Francisco started "patenting" water, and as a result many native Bolivians were wrongfully arrested, their properties confiscated, and their livlihoods ruined all because they collected rainwater in a barrel. My question to the greedy potz in San Francisco who caused that mess is this - how can you patent a basic element of life that God created? Yet, a greedier government upheld the corporation, and warred against its own citizens because of it. In the US, the consequences have been even more dire. If it weren't for corporations, and the bureaucratic mess in Washington, DC, that empowers them, we would not have had the ugly racial issues that have plagued us since before the Civil War. What I am saying is this - we were taught wrong about the Civil War. It was not fought to liberate slaves; it was fought because Federal government couldn't regulate the slave trade, and Northern corporations that wanted a piece of the action incited the events that led to the Civil War as a result. I truly believe that had the South been left alone, slavery would have ended on its own - many states in the South had ended the slave trade by the time the Civil War started, and it would have been only a matter of time before true emancipation of the slaves would have taken place (example - Wilburforce in England). But, greedy politicians and corporate executives had other plans, and didn't have the patience to wait because they wanted to take over the South for themselves. As a result, what followed the Civil War was 100 years of race tension, and today it has encouraged a mentality of entitlement in some sectors of the African-American population, which "plantation pimps" such as Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, James Cone, Jeremiah Wright, and others have made a lot of money profiting from exploitation. Now, you have some Blacks acting the same way some Whites treated their forebears, and we have Washington and Wall Street to thank for it. Does it sound like a conspiracy theory? Maybe, but evidence speaks for itself. Unfortunately, this facade of entitlement - under the guise of other names such as "affirmative action" and "political correctness" - has cost some hardworking people dearly. There are many White families now - in particular my native Appalachia - that cannot get jobs despite having the good qualifications to do so, and it stinks. Why is that? Well, to avoid appearing too "discriminatory," these companies like hiring some fat Black chick who likes wasting more time talking on the cell phone instead of doing the job she is paid to do, and God forbid she gets fired - oftentimes, such a person is not even qualified for the job, and they get it based on skin color rather than skills and experience so that some idiotic "affirmative action" quota can be met and the company can avoid litigation over alleged "racism" should a termination be warranted. All the while, qualified candidates are passed over. Some other corporate execs like hiring attractive young 20-ish women so that they can ogle their body parts - this is called "image consulting" by the talking-heads who claim to be "human resource experts," but the only consultation happening is some horny old millionaire exec ogling his hot young secretary's cleavage. Yes, feminism and "women's lib" have come a long way (a lot of radical feminists are lesbians anyway, and they support this crap because they like ogling too - there, I said it; ooohh, call the "hate crimes" police!). Again, truly skilled and qualified people who worked their butts off get passed over for mere erotic aesthetics. Welcome to 21st century postmodern America! I could say more about this, but I won't - I will be devoting a whole article to that in the future to be sure anyway.
What do we talk about next? I need to go a more positive direction now as I have soapboxed and may get myself into hot water if I say much more! We mentioned Robert Newton Peck, an author I became familiar with in the fourth grade and later got to know personally as a mentor and friend. The book that introduced me to his work was part of a series of small children's stories based on his childhood called Soup. The Soup books were something I could relate a lot to - the exploits of a small-town kid and his buddy going on adventures, getting into mischief, etc. What I was reading, as a matter of fact, was in many cases what I lived, although 50 years difference - the Soup series is set in 1930's rural Vermont, and I grew up in the 1970's and early 1980's in rural West Virginia. The title character, Luther "Soup" Vinson, actually reminded me a lot of my old 3rd grade buddy Sim Taylor in Brunswick, GA, and as I read the books, I pictured Soup as looking a lot like Sim. Wild imaginations, fishing, doing outdoor stuff - essentially, that is what I did as a kid too. As a kid, I read a lot - my elementary schoolmates today still razz me about reading the whole set of World Book Encyclopedias in our 5th-6th grade classroom then, and I also had read entire cookbooks, a bunch of stuff on World War II history, a whole set of storybooks, and a 3-volume collection of Bible reference books Mom owned. At the age of 13, I had read the entire Old Testament as well, and appreciated its history too. I also loved atlases - to this day, I love just sitting down and taking an atlas or map, and studying it. Back even in the late 1970's and early 1980's, kids were still encouraged to read - what on earth happened in the past 30 years?? Phil Robertson, the patriarch of the true American success story family on the popular Duck Dynasty series, said that although he grew up in the 1950's his family lived like it was the 1850's (Phil Robertson, Happy, Happy, Happy {New York: Howard Books, 2013] p. 9) - in my case, I grew up in the early 1980's and we lived like it was the 1930's. I am one of the few kids my age from my era to attest that I attended elementary school in a 3-room schoolhouse, for instance. I also am very familiar with outhouses and other such "luxuries," as we often had to live like that for periods of time. Also, we didn't have much television, and oftentimes I entertained myself with reading books, listening to AM radio, and it also allowed for the burgeoning musical interest I developed later. However, in the day hours, especially in the summer months, my time was spent outside. At that time, I could read something in a book, it would spark an interest, and then I would try to re-create it somewhere. It was called in those days imagination - many kids today, made into couch potatoes with their gadgetry, don't know the meaning of the word. To them, creativity means wearing skinny jeans in a Starbucks somewhere and coming up with new text codes to share on their Facebook or Twitter accounts. And skinny jeans - seriously, what on earth??? I am in agreement with my mentor Robert Newton Peck when he wrote on that subject this gem - "I'm sick of seeing blue jeans. Denim bores me almost as much as a Meryl Streep movie. why, in any one school, are some teachers dressed so neatly and others dressed as slobs?" I have never worn blue jeans in my life, save when maybe I was very young, and find them somewhat distasteful. And, now there is this skinny jean phenomenon - a man's 'nads were not meant to be scrunched up like that, and besides, they look pansy. Again, this may get me some 'hate mail," but I could care less - skinny jeans look ridiculous. As for Peck's observations on schools, it equally applies to churches, especially this "contemporary" crap - boys, tuck in those shirts and pull up them pants, and girls, dress more appropriately for the Lord's house, please! Anyway, those are just some observations.
My friend and mentor, author Robert Newton Peck
That being said, the hour is late and I have rambled enough, but will return soon.
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