A Day in the Life of Our Family Cats (An Edited Repost From Facebook)

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When I originally posted this in July 2024, it was after several more serious posts and was written to reduce stress, both mine and that of my readers, as something a bit off the wall, and something with a bit of humor.

I’m usually up somewhere between 5:30 and 6:30 each morning to do my daily chores. To our cats, the most important of these chores is feeding them and refilling their water bowl. Next in line is cleaning their litter box. I don’t need an alarm to wake me up in the mornings because the cats ensure that I know it is time to get out of bed. If I am not awake, they sit on the dresser and stare at me. If that doesn’t work they resort to racing from one side of our bedroom to the other, at full speed, often jumping on or over the bed with their favorite landing point being my legs or back.

Once I arise, they follow me step-by-step to ensure that I take their food bowls into the kitchen for filling. While I am filling their bowls, they again stare at me so that I don’t waste time or perform any unnecessary tasks like starting the coffee machine. After their bowls are filled, they follow me to make sure the bowls are returned to their proper place for eating. I dare not do anything prior to this.

Our day then proceeds in one of two ways. Most common is for them to eat, find a hiding place, curl up, and go back to sleep. The second is for one or both to jump on my desk and watch me use the computer to type posts like this or to work. There really isn’t enough space for both cats and the computer on the desk so they arrange themselves in whatever manner they prefer and often assist me by putting paws on the keyboard or moving the mouse so that it is not where I want it to be.

After deciding that they cannot both be on the desk simultaneously, either one or both leave the desk and move to a nearby window to look outside. Of course, this necessitates walking across the computer keyboard and adding their personal comments to anything being typed. Throughout the day, they alternate which, if either of them, sits or sleeps on the desk.

If their food bowls become empty (which means the bottom of the bowl can be seen in any way) they will let me know by again starting the racing game along with a loud “meooow” or two.

At the end of the day, they both disappear, back to their favorite hiding places for more sleep so that the races can begin again about the time we are ready for sleep, or more likely around midnight. After zooming around the room, they normally settle down and sleep so that the entire process can begin again the next morning.

Yesterday the cats were very confused. When I left for work my wife moved over to my side of the bed and went back to sleep. She rarely sleeps there. She said when she awakened one of the cats was simply staring at her. Then, he would move close to get petted and then back away and look at the place where she normally sleeps, as if to say, “Why aren’t you here, where you belong?” After a short time the cycle would repeat. Later in the morning, the second cat reacted about the same way. Seems that they don’t like change unless they approve ahead of time – LOL. By the way, two cats, brothers from the same litter, two totally different personalities, very independent, a little over a year old and full of energy.

The Old White House in the Country (A Short Story of My Past)

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This is not a work of fiction. Instead, it is written by a seventy-two-year-old man based on memories of his childhood. As a result, some things may be off regarding time, size, and other details. All rights to these materials are reserved although readers may share them provided they are appropriately attributed to the author.

After my wife and I had our Thanksgiving dinner last evening I thought about how much things had changed since I was young. A time when the holidays meant for families to gather and have conversation, played together, maybe even enjoyed a football game on either the radio or on television. When political events were not the subject on conversation, or at least, were no reason to end friendships or enjoy time together. Yes, things have changed, but not always for the better.

The old white house was located about four miles from the nearest town, in the center of fields and farmland used primarily for cotton but not anything even close to Tara or the other plantations so romantically described in literature and movies. It was a four-room house with attached porches on both the front and the back. I know little about the old house other than it, at some point, may have been inhabited by the landowner. I say this because the outbuildings around the house included sheds for storing seed and for smoking meat, a large building for chickens, and a mid-sized barn.

The white house was in a big yard with several really large white oak trees along with a few cedar trees. There were flowers of all types, from the tall, multi-colored hollyhocks to small daffodils, some in beds and some just scattered through out the yard. There were peach trees between the house and the large vegetable garden which was shared by the family each summer. From my earliest memories until the late nineteen-sixties, the house was inhabited only by my grandmother.

While there was electrical service to the house, there was no running water and, as a result, no indoor plumbing facilities. Heat, in the winter, was provided by a single, wood burning stove located in the living room. I also remember cooking being done on a wood burning kitchen stove in my early years although that stove was replaced by an electric range sometime in my childhood. The house was of simple design. It was basically a square, or perhaps a rectangle, divided into four smaller squares, the rooms. Each room was connected to the two adjacent rooms and the two front rooms opened onto the front porch while the two backrooms opened to the back porch. Each exterior wall had two windows, one in each room on that side of the house.

The house sat atop several concrete peers thus offering an open space about eighteen inches high under the house. Like I said earlier, there was no running water in the house. Instead, there was a hand pump a few feet outside the back door and water was pumped and carried into the house in buckets. Similarly, wood for the stoves was carried in a few pieces at a time from wood stored on the front porch or from wood stacks a bit farther away.

My grandmother’s family would be considered large today but at that time was probably common. She had four daughters, one who died early in her life, and four sons. All of her children were born in Tennessee, but the family moved to Arkansas when my mother was young. I never knew the reason but suspect it was because they could find work there. On holidays, it was common for the majority of my grandmother’s children to visit for at least one meal and often for the entire day. As the family grew older some were not able to visit every holiday because they had moved away but they were always welcomed when they could visit.

On these holidays not everyone could fit into the kitchen for eating so the children were often relegated to eat in another room or to eat later than the adults. One cousin and I were close to the same age, so we tended to play together. Most other cousins were several years older, so they also tended to visit together.

Near the white house, beside or amid the cotton fields were a large pecan tree and another large nut tree (I can’t remember the variety) where the men often collected nuts during the harvest season.

I will always remember the holidays as a great time for visiting with family. While we all had different lives, lived in different places, and had different friends, we were also family and could share things with each other. I remember times that were not so great and times that were truly celebrations. And from these things, we became closer as a family. I even remember some funny events, like the time when an in-law brought an apple pie for the holidays. When she arrived, she asked who had brought the ice cream to go with it. When no one answered, she said, “Well, I’ll just put my pie back into the car since you can’t eat pie without ice cream!” Of course, this led to many jokes as the story was repeated for many years after.

The old white house is no longer there. Nor are the fields where cotton, and later soybeans, grew. If fact, the area is no longer in the country. The city has grown, and all of this space has been absorbed. The old gravel roads have been paved and now have now have street names. But the memories remain, at least for the few of us who were around then and are still around now. But our numbers dwindle, just as do the memories. Hopefully, today’s children are building there own memories to share with those who follow and not all memories will be left forever on machines and in social media.

I hope that readers and their families had a chance to get together on Thanksgiving. If not, I hope you still had a happy holiday. And, with some luck, you had ice cream to go with your pie. Enjoy the holiday season and many more.

Headline – Sharon Stone slams ‘ignorant, arrogant’ Americans after Donald Trump win

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Another headline from USA Today online quoting a useless celebrity. Statements from the article:

“…Stone is slamming Americans she characterized as “uneducated”…

…”We have to stop and think about who we choose for government and if, in fact, we are actually choosing our government or if the government is choosing itself.”…

…”my country is in the midst of adolescence. Adolescence is very arrogant. Adolescence thinks it knows everything. Adolescence is naive and ignorant and arrogant. And we are in our ignorant, arrogant adolescence.” …

…”Americans who don’t travel, who 80% don’t have a passport, who are uneducated, are in their extraordinary naïveté,”…

With regard to her “who we choose” statement, perhaps Stone is the one who is ignorant and uneducated. Trump was chosen by the majority of American voters – not just the electoral college but the majority of voters. And, Harris was not place on the ballot by winning a single primary election but through manipulation of the process by individuals including President Biden, Representative Nancy Pelosi, and other prominent Democratic officials.

Comments like these and those of Alec Baldwin, both make during appearances associated with the film and entertainment industry are starting to become insulting. It reflects the attitude of superiority pervasive in the entertainment field and the media that continues to support them.

While I may not agree with the opinion columnists in USA Today, at least their views are shown as that. Unfortunately the views of celebrities can be reported as the truth without the same disclaimers that their columnists are subjected to.

If these celebrities hate Americans so much, they are welcome to stop taking our money and leave. And perhaps the editors at USA Today should join them.

Wind in My Sails – A Short Story

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This is a work of fiction. It reflects my personal thoughts which are reserved and does not in any manner suggest truths about sailing or any other water activity. It is loosely based on my readings of some materials written by Stuart Woods interspersed with my suppositions, experiences working with others, and, possibly, humor. It should not be considered too seriously or used as a basis for any outdoor activities.

———-

Good morning. My name is Joe. And I recently participated in a sailing competition, a trans-Atlantic trip by sailboat. A competition with all types of craft starting at a single point and ending at a common point in the shortest time possible. I did not try for speed but only to see if I could complete the trip. I owned a sailboat, but I really wasn’t an experienced sailor. But I wanted to share some experiences with you.

As I lay in bed last night, listening to a storm, I asked myself if I was insane. Not because I feared the thunder and lightning or even the winds alone. Instead, it was because of the combination of wind, water, and my intent to join others sailing across the Atlantic. I thought of the rocky coastline and how the waves crashed against it. Throwing water twenty, thirty, forty or more feet into the air followed by the water falling is smaller droplets back into the sea. What would these same forces do to the unfortunate human caught in their path?

I could be that human. For an unknown reason, I had taken up the sport of sailing. After a few short years, I now owned a boat and had decided that I was expert enough to join a group in a trans-Atlantic crossing. Did I really have the skills, ability, and knowledge to do this?

A few days later, in a small group of friends gathered in a nearby pub. All were intent on crossing the Atlantic capturing the power of the wind in our sails. Talk centered on those who had done so in the past along with those who were not successful. Some safely returned to port, others were lost at sea and never found, still others lost their lives. The group could not define what motivated them to try.

As I sat, listening to this group, I asked myself the same question. Why was I here? An American in a foreign country. A person who grew up not on a coast, not with a history of sailing, not even dreams of sailing as a child. What enticed me about this adventure? I did not know even half of what these others knew. Perhaps I would know more when the trip started of even decide, sanely, that I should not make the attempt.

The trip was scheduled to start the next morning, but the sea was calm. There was no wind. Nothing to power the ships out of the bay, much less across the ocean. The preparations were not wasted. All simply had to wait for the wind. Those with small boats and those with the large, expensive craft were equal that morning. No wind meant no sailing. Perhaps another day would be spent in the pub. Or better, in last minute double checking of all preparations. The same happened the two following days.

Was God or Karma trying to tell me something? Was there a reason for the delays? I did not have an answer. All I knew was that each passing day was causing me to have more doubts and more anxiety.

The weekend arrived and along with it, light breezes. Enough wind to make sailing possible. The result was a traffic jam that would match any on the freeways of America’s largest cities. The difference was that the traffic was a huge number of sail craft, all trying to escape the bay through limited space with less ability to avoid other craft trying to do the same. The bay was a madhouse. At last, all were at sea and moving toward their selected route to America. Voyages like that of Columbus or the Vikings. Powered not by modern technology but only by the wind.

Common sense seemed to have evaded me. Here I was, amid this confusion and rush to start a dangerous journey from the U.K. to the U.S., not by plane or by cruise ship but alone in my small sailboat.  Would I be successful, or would I be one of the many who did not?

As each intrepid traveler left port they had a choice, they could follow the shorter northern route across the Atlantic. While shorter, this route was the riskiest because of the potential for storms, much like those that kept me awake a few nights earlier. Stormy conditions were not good in any ship but were especially dangerous for sailing craft. Travelers could also choose the southern route which was longer but did not have as great a risk for storms. But there was some risk on both routes and no matter which was chosen there was limited opportunity to turn back.

While I was not averse to risk, I selected the southern route. This seemed to better fit my skills, and it also provided the opportunity to stop at islands along the way should stress or other problems arise.

The days of travel began for all. Unlike land travel, there was little scenery to distract one. Once one had sailed out of sight of land, there was only water until the next port came into sight. Or perhaps one should say there was only water and the boat. Just as in a home, there were daily chores that needed accomplishment. But on a boat, they could not be delayed. These were things like maintenance, navigation, and care for oneself. A sick crew like a sick boat would only cause failure.

As I approached the trip, I spent many hours wondering what would be involved. For a boat the size of mine on a good day (no storms, no equipment failures, no sickness, etc.) I believed daily chores would take more than six hours. Sleep would take about eight hours. So how would I occupy myself for the other ten hours each day? Would part of this time be spent on introspection or perhaps contemplation of things like the meaning of life? Could part of the time be spent reading? And, if so, how much added weight would be added to the boat for books or other reading materials? Could time be spent writing? Would communication with relatives and friends be possible? I really didn’t know the answers to these questions. What supplies, including food and drink, would accompany me? And, again, how much weight would be added and where would it be stored? What would happen if I became sick? Again, no real answers were apparent. So, what did I do? I spent hours talking to those who had made the trip previously. Possibly, no, probably, making a pest of myself but taking their advice and hoping to learn. Now this preparation would be put to the test.

For those following the southern route, the first possible stopping point came several days later. Some arrived at this point quickly, restocked, and went back to sea quickly. Others spent a few days on land resting before continuing. Still others decided that the trip was not important, or maybe not possible, and returned to the U.K. The trip had been safe with gentle breezes and mostly good weather. While here, travelers could share information about those on other routes or in other places. Unfortunately, this was not always good news. The northern route had been hit by many storms and lives had been lost. Some were unaccounted for. In many ways, this was typical of previous voyages.

Although there were only a few of those making the trip who were familiar to me, I did find that some were lost. I could only offer my sympathy to their families. But in their honor, I continued. I also received good news about those who had passed through ahead of me. While I was not the fastest traveler, I felt good that I had be successful to this point and hoped that things would continue to go well. After a short rest stop, I continued my trip.

 The trip continued for many and after days at sea or at islands along the way, the U.S. came into sight. For the fastest it was a great success and a time of reward. For others, success was a more personal thing. They had set out on a voyage that presented a challenge and whether they were among the fastest or amid the “also rans”, they had achieved something done by few others. Some might return the following years to try yet again, perhaps for speed or to follow a different route. Some might look for other challenges, in either sailing or other activities. Others might simply enjoy whatever life presented them.

In my case, I am in the latter group. My boat has been sold. I am now a “land lubber.” I enjoyed my time at sea yet, I’m not sure I could enjoy a similar experience now or in the future. I remain friends with many I met on or through this adventure. And I miss greatly those who were lost because of the trip. But to all, I wish gentle breezes, smooth water, and great sailing.

Alec Baldwin says Americans are ‘very uninformed about reality’

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I am really getting tired of “celebrities” acting like they are superior to the American public (who, by-the-way, spend their hard earned money to support these “celebrities) and at the modern day media, primarily the print media, supporting these views and reporting them as though they are fact.

The headline above was taken verbatim from the online version of USA Today. In the accompanying article, the following was stated:

“…The actor spoke to Variety from the Torino Film Festival…”

“…Baldwin touched on the 2024 presidential election and argued movies are more important now than ever as a way of informing viewers about what’s happening around the world…”.

“…”There is a gap, if you will, in information for Americans,” he said. “Americans are very uninformed about reality…”

If Baldwin truly feels this way about Americans who are not part of the elite, like him, who are so enlightened, then perhaps he, too, should pack his bags and join other elites in leaving the county, never to return.

Statements like this, and the media printing them, are a clear example of the elitism of the Democratic Party that has been, at least in part, blamed for their failures in the recent elections. It is difficult for the average, working American to feel connected to someone who is paid millions of dollars to read lines written by others, who participates in sports that, in reality, are no longer enjoyable, or who has never worked at in a job at the hourly level. When will they accept that they are paid to entertain, not insult?

If this is a representation of how the Democratic Party, these “celebrities”, and the media view the American people then perhaps they no longer have a place in our country. Disagreement is fine but insult and superiority are not.

“Chiefs” By Stuart Woods (A Book Review)

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I have long wanted to write a review of one of the works of a favorite author, Stuart Woods. I found this particularly difficult because of Woods’ long writing career including both novels and nonfiction works. Finally, I decided not to delay longer and try to capture the essence of his first novel, “Chiefs”. I would note that while “Chiefs” is his first novel, originally published in 1981, it is not his first book. Before “Chiefs” he wrote a book describing his experiences sailing, including a trans-Atlantic trip from the United Kingdom to the United States, and a guidebook to locations throughout the U.K.

“Chiefs” is loosely based on a childhood experience in Woods’ life when he found an old badge in a relatives’ attic. The badge appeared to be blood stained and damage from some type of firearm. Woods found that this was true, and the badge had been worn by one of his ancestors.

According to Woods, it took many years for the story he was told to transition into a novel and then took about eight years to be written and published. Most of the writing occurred in Ireland where Woods lived, almost as a hermit. Like several of Woods’ early novels the story is not part of any series although it does introduce several characters and locations that appear in his later works. The novel focuses on four individuals who lived in the rural south beginning in the 1920’s and continuing until after the end of World War II. A time when the country, particularly the south, was in transition.  Three of these individuals were law enforcement officers in a small Georgia town. The other seemed to believe that he was more qualified than any to hold the position.

The first officer, Will Henry Lee, was a former cotton farmer. Like many other small farmers, he could no longer support his family by farming. Since the town was looking for its first police chief, Will Henry asked for the position and was accepted. He was successful in the position until his untimely, and some would say accidental, death while on duty. His badge, much like that of Woods’ ancestor, suffered the same fate.

The second chief, Sonny Butts, came on the scene years later. He might have been considered a thug had the circumstances been different. He was a motorcycle riding hot head, not afraid to treat the town’s elite in the same manner as it’s poor. He had proven himself a reasonably good police officer and was appointed chief after the death of his predecessor. After becoming chief, simply disappeared, not immediately but after some time.

The final chief in the story was a black man, something extremely unusual in that timeframe not just in the rural south but anywhere in the country.  He had experience in the military and was fair to all the residents of the town. Because of his experience and a recent event, he began looking at the history of related crimes in the town’s past.  His findings seemed to point to someone in or near the town being guilty of or at least knowledgeable of the crimes. Yet when he tried to report these things to the long-term county sheriff, they were laughed off. Could this be because of the chief’s race or was there some other underlying reason?

The fourth principal character in the book was an odd individual who lived a short distance outside the town. Someone who wanted to be the chief but was never selected. Someone who often appeared dressed as a hero from WW I, although his service was questionable. Someone who lived as a hermit but was known to have a large collection of weapons. A person who, if nothing else, was looked on as odd, quirky, or even crazy. What was his role?

Did any of these characters have a relationship? What role did each play in the growth of the town? Or were all just passing ships in the night? This is for the reader to find out.

I was able to find this novel in paperback form from a 2005 printing. It is unlikely that an copies of the original hardcopy version can be found since there were only about 20,00 copies printed. It is worth the hunt to read the book. Captivating, yes. Hard to put down, yes. And a challenge to try to solve the mysteries before reaching the conclusion. Search for it. Read it. And enjoy.

Travel or Just Moving Around

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I’ve often thought about the differences between actually living in a small town and what we often see as small-town life on television or in movies. While I would not trade my small- town years for living in a large city, I wonder if those who spent their lives in larger cities realize how different rural lives are from their own. Over the next few days (or maybe weeks) I plan to share some thoughts on my early life in a small-town as well as what I know from experiences shared by my parents or others. Sometimes this will be the same as what we have seen or heard and at other times it will be far different.

Today I want to share a bit about travel, or moving around, to and from a small-town. In the first few years of my life there were four ways to travel from my hometown to other places – by train, by bus, by auto and walking.

The simplest to discuss are by train and by bus. They offered similar options. Travel by train was offered for the shortest period – if my memory is correct, passenger service was offered until I was about six or seven years old. There were two passenger trains daily, one northbound and one southbound and both trains passed through our town late at night or very early in the morning. While they offered transportation to larger cities with more connections, this was not always convenient and could not always get you to your destination.

Travel by bus was very similar. I remember two buses each day, again one going north and one going south. If your destination was not on their route, you had to make connections in other towns or cities with larger bus depots. And, just like train travel, not all destinations had bus service. Bus service to my town ended when I was in my teens.

Travel by auto was a bit different. There were two options in my hometown. The first was travel on a state highway, the same highway used by buses and paralleling the route of the railroads through most of its length. Most highways were paved or at least had a tar and gravel surface over the roadbed. In some locations shoulders were provided while in others ditches or tree rows came right to the edge of the roadway. Roads like that today would be considered very unsafe. And travel speed on these highways was often limited to about forty to forty-five miles per hour for any of a variety of reasons.

The second method of auto travel was over local graveled roads. These were mainly farm roads maintained by the county. They were occasionally graded, but any smoothness provided by grading was lost after a few days, especially if there was any rain. Speed here was also limited, both by the roughness of the road and for safety. While we only had one state highway passing through our town, we had more options in graveled roads – one going northwest from town, one going west, one going south, and, I believe, one going east. They had many connections allowing travel not only a route to local farms but also to other nearby small towns.

Of course, walking was always an option, along with hitchhiking which was relatively safe then. At the same time, it was also the slowest form of travel and did not provide an easy way to carry things you might need like food and water.

Looking back further into the past, travel was typically by wagon or horse over unimproved roads and trails. Personally, I have trouble even imagining how uncomfortable travel was. Slow speeds, steel or wooden wheels, rough surfaces – it could not get much worse. And a trip to or between towns might take hours or even a full day.

When I look at my hometown today things have changed a bit. Train service, for passengers, has long been gone. Bus travel is also an option that no longer exists. Traveling by auto is mostly the same although the roads are improved, and travel speeds are faster. Other than better shoes and less safety, walking is unchanged.

Even so, things in the small town are far different than the romanticized version that we see on television and in the movies.

Entitlement

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I believe that most of us who are parents recognize that this role encompasses many things. We must take care of our children’s needs, especially when they are young. We should teach them right and wrong. We should teach them about responsibility. We should teach them many other things.

And at some point, we should teach them what it means to be an adult and especially what they will need to do for their children should they too become parents. Even if they choose not to be parents, their role as adults will be far different from that of children.

For many, both parents and children, both teaching and learning seems to be simple. While I am sure they face challenges, these challenges are more simple than they are for others. And, although they can be simple, some parts are more important than others.

Unfortunately, I believe that parents from my generation have failed in some areas. While we learned that life would have challenges, that there would be winners and losers, and that just becoming an adult did not automatically afford privilege equally. Instead of teaching this, we fell into the trap of teaching entitlement. Our children were taught that they were entitled to simple things like the best toys, the best clothes, everything that their friends possessed. They were not taught that not every parent could afford, monetarily or otherwise, the same things.

They were taught that in sports everyone was entitled to be on the team. And because they were on the team, everyone was entitled to equal playing time regardless of talent. They were taught that there were no winners or losers. Instead, everyone deserved the same trophy or reward. This sounds good on the surface but when you look at it more closely it does not reflect the real world they would live in as adults.

As our children grew older, they continued to feel entitled. And they wanted to give their children the same or more than was given to them. This continues even today. The problem has become that while everyone feels entitled in their youth, they seem to expect this in adulthood which is unrealistic.

An example is the current administration’s effort to eliminate student debt. When I went to college, my parents and I paid for my schooling. I worked during the school year and in the summers. I did not study abroad – I could not afford that. And yet today, as an American taxpayer, I am being expected to pay for the education of those who elected to incur indebtedness and now cannot repay that debt. Not everyone is entitled to go to college. Not everyone is entitled to a student loan. These are things that one must earn.

In another situation, a person who was working at a low-level job decided that they were entitled to a trip to Hawaii, not because they had enough money to afford the trip, but instead because one of their friends had taken a similar trip. This person then expected someone else to pay for the trip including of their personal expenses.

So, perhaps, our generation has contributed to the issue by creating this environment of entitlement. But at the same time, our children are old enough now to recognize that entitlement comes at a cost and the world is not always fair. For most of us, this means accepting what life throws at us and living within those constraints. If our children decide to live a different lifestyle, then that was their choice, but they should not expect us to support that lifestyle. We supported them as children, they need to support themselves now.

Oh, What a Night…

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It was one of those nights. I must have gone to bed way too early. It was 1:49 AM and I was wide awake. I cuddled my wife with on one side and petted my cats with the other. I couldn’t go back to sleep. While I wanted to go back to sleep, there was also some good. I had no worries and I was comfortable. Life was basically good. So, my thoughts wandered and I dreamed even though I wasn’t asleep.

I wished I could waste a day in Margaritaville, listening to the Piano Man, as he sang and played about his love, the Uptown Girl. While it might have been a Rainy Night in Georgia, things were good in Missouri. Maybe I could get the Ole Hound Dog and hop aboard the Continental Trailways bus to Winslow, Arizona. Once there I could stand on the corner and hope the girl in the flatbed Ford would stop and give me a ride to the Hotel California. The next day I could sit on the Dock of the Bay with Otis and hope The Little Old Lady From Pasadena could take me to Surf City where we could have fun, fun, fun ’til her daddy took the T-Bird away. And after the fun ended, I caught the Midnight Train to Georgia where I spent many days with Memories of the trip.

This was probably just a waste of time but it did allow me to go back to sleep and when I awoke I thought more about my childhood where things were so much better, or were they really. If my parents were still with us, their views might be different but as a child the memories that linger are mostly good. My big worries seemed to be whether there was air in my bicycle tires and if it was going to rain. I was too young to know anything about the war in Korea and Viet Nam was far in the future. Important things were which friends would be able to play, and with what, later that day or early evening. Before bed time we usually sat on the front porch of my grandparent’s home and listened to baseball on the radio – spring, summer, and fall – or sat near the wood heater and talked about when the weather would be warm again if it was winter.

My family was by no means rich but we also never went hungry. When I was about three or four, my father built a house next door to my grandparents where we lived until I was out of college and they continued to live until their health made it impossible. Not a large house but one that met our needs. Costs were low but so were wages. There were no gangs, at least outside large cities like New York or Los Angeles, no drive by shootings, and minimal crimes. As children, we learned respect, courtesy, sharing, and cooperation. We learned that not everyone was a winner and for each winner there was a loser. But the loser could come back and might be the next day’s winner. Memories of that time are good.

I wish our children could have experienced the same but somewhere along the way we failed them. Perhaps it was when entitlement became the important thing. Maybe it was when toys took the place of reality. Maybe it was something else. One can hope that one day we return to the past but somehow I think that moving back to that world is no longer possible. It is a shame.

“The Economy, Stupid”

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Sometimes the irony in politics is often overlooked but seems to always be present. The past election is proof of this. According to “Wikipedia,” James Carville was credited with coining the term “The Economy, Stupid” as one of three points that were important in keeping then democratic candidate Bill Clinton’s campaign on course. These points were posted at the campaign headquarters. Another of the points was “Change vs. more of the same.” In various forms since that time, these phrases have been used by others who have often added “It’s” to the first term.

Ironically, the Democrats failed to take these two of Carville’s three points into consideration during the recent election. Throughout the campaign, most polls pointed to the economy as the major issue facing voters today. High prices, high interest rates, and inaction by the ruling party affected almost all working-class American’s. This was more important to voters than illegal immigration, which was also important, the rights of selected groups, or other issues. Yet the Democrats failed to address this issue or even offer a plan for addressing it in the future.  On the other hand, Republicans were quick to point out problems in the economy at every opportunity.

Given this, ignoring Carville’s first point left the door open for emphasizing the second. Do you, the voter, want to have more of the same or is change preferable? I don’t believe that Republicans have the magic wand that will automatically solve all problems in the nation’s economy, but I must look at what has been done in the last four years to make things better. What I see is little change has occurred and the Democratic candidates offered little other than to say they would change nothing. So, while the Democrats would have us believe that Carville’s words were correct in 1992, they want us to ignore these words in 2024.

I don’t understand this. If it was true then, why is it not true today? I believe Carville was correct in 1992 and he is still correct. Most of the other issues, while important, do not affect most of us directly. But when we go to the grocery store and walk out the door carrying $100 of groceries in two small plastic bags, see interest rates on loans climbing three, four, or more percent over the last four years, and seeing gas prices almost double in the same timeframe then the economy become exceedingly important to us. And even though celebrities like Whoopi Goldberg claim to be part of working America, it is difficult to accept that someone who can afford a car valued at over $1,000,000 is in any way part of the same group as a person who earns $800.00 a week.

Why not take the chance, or the risk, that something different might work? Maybe things won’t be better but maybe the reward may be great. We already know that staying the same would not work so let’s try something new.