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My dear friend, Cheryl, wrote me the other day asking what I thought about all this business going on with the unions in Wisconsin. She asked if I could put my thoughts into a blog, so here goes. In the beginning there were owners and people who worked for the owners. Early on, the owners realized that the less they "gave" their workers, and the more hours and labor they squeezed out of their workers, the more profit they [the owners] would garner. As a result, for decades upon decades upon decades, the workers suffered miserably. They worked in unsafe conditions. They worked horridly long hours for very little pay. But what choice did they have? They weren't farmers and their families had to eat. They had to have a roof over their heads. They had to have clothes on their backs. So, they mined our coal, made our cars, wove our cloth, but were only able to view the goods they produced that made up "the good life" from a distance. Then one day, one bright young fellow [or lady] figured out the obvious: There were far more workers than there were owners. The workers knew how to do what the owners couldn't [or wouldn't] do. In all truth, the owners needed the workers just as much [if not more] than the workers needed the owners. No workers. No work. No work. No money. And so the unions were formed. And they worked. They worked magnificently, especially in America. The American unionized worker became the envy of the world. Conditions in heretofore dangerous workplaces were vastly improved. Children were no longer subjected to 12-15 hours a day of hard labor, 6 days a week. Workers were actually given the time to enjoy the fruits of their labors. And the owners still made money. Seemed like a win-win situation. But as the years went on, the unions became more and more powerful. And, as will often happen, the "new" dictators [the unions] decided that they would supplant the "old" dictators [the owners] Membership in the union was no longer optional. You either belonged, or you didn't work. The unions became a national political arm for both major parties, Republican and Democrat alike, basically telling their membership how the union expected them to vote. And Lord ... how the money rolled in. Then one day, an owner looked at his workers. He noticed that he was paying Mr. Smith $50 per hour to spend his day screwing Nut A into Bolt B, plus paying him benefits. Now the owner knew that even the teacher who taught Mr. Smith's kids didn't make even a fraction of that with a college degree. He also knew that because he was paying Mr. Smith all that money, his [the owner's] profits had been falling steadily. So a month later, the owner announces to the company that he is closing the factory. He is moving his business to Sri Lanka, where there are no taxes and no $50/hr. salaries. Bye-Bye. It's been good to know ya!! Now there are no more $50/hr. jobs in the factory town, because there is no factory. Heck, there aren't even any $10/hr. jobs. And there's no grocery store. And there's no restaurants. And there's no gas station. And all the storefronts on Main Street are shuttered. The kids are bussed 27 miles over to the nearest school. There's lots of empty houses, though and you can get one real cheap. I guess in all this what I'm trying to say is that just like the owners for years were unthinking, uncaring, and unconcerned about their workers, the unions didn't give proper thought to the importance of the owners. They built a house on a foundation of sand, and then brought upon themselves the whirlwind that brought it crashing down.
Tags: current events / history
Who were these guys?: Scott Carpenter, Gordon Cooper, John Glenn, Gus Grissom, Wally Schirra, Alan Sheperd, Deke Slayton? [they were the first American astronauts from project Mercury...followed by our other manned programs: Geminii, Apollo, and the Space Shuttle] Why do you think any of these dates might be noteworthy or important?: May 15, 1961, February 20, 1962, June 3, 1965, July 29, 1969. [in order: The day Alan Sheperd became the first American in space; The day John Glenn became the first American to orbit the earth; The day Ed White became the first American to walk in space; The day the first person in human history, Neil Armstrong, stepped out onto the surface of "another world."] Can you think of anything special about these folks?: Gus Grissom, Ed White, Roger Chaffee, Dick Scobee, Mike Smith, Judy Resnick, Ron McNair, Ellison Onizuka, Greg Jarvis, Christa McAuliffe, Rick Husband, William McCool, Michael Anderson, Ilan Ramon, Kalpana Chawla, David Brown, and Laurel Clark. [every one of these people died while working in "our" space program. A launch pad fire during a test took first three on January 27, 1967; then, the Challenger disaster of January 28, 1986 took the next 8, and finally, the Columbia blow-up on February 1, 2003 took the rest.] Now I know you're probably asking yourself [and me] what this has to do with the price of tea in China. But you see, today, the Space Shuttle Discovery, the oldest in our shuttle fleet, took off for its final mission. Further, the entire Shuttle program will be over and done with after just two more missions. And with that tiny whisper, and press coverage only as an after-thought, our manned space program, which began with such roaring promise, pretty much fizzles out. I'm sure there are those out there who will give credible arguments about budgets, and more pressing problems here on Earth, and blah-blah-blah. But I can't help but thinking of a line from a movie I like that asks the question "why look?" I think we look because we have no idea what's beyond that next ridge, over that next hill, beyond that bend in the river. At least we used to be curious about that sort of thing. We are doing a magnificent job of killing our planet. We are over-populating it, polluting it as if there were no tomorrow, and now apparently giving no thought to the question "where do we go from here"? I'll be long gone before it all really matters, I suppose, but I certainly remember where I was on July 29, 1969 ... don't you?
Oddly, perhaps shamefully, it was the dog I noticed first. He was one of those non-descript varieties: of questionable parentage and cautious demeanor. A length of clothesline was tied around his neck and what looked to be a child's cast-off sweatshirt encased his front legs and torso. With his owner, he waited patiently in line. It wasn't until he got to the window that I really took a look at the man. I could actually see the bugs in his hair, alive and feeding even in the 25-degree afternoon. I have no real idea if he was truly fat, or just wreathed in so many layers of clothing that he looked like the Pillsbury doughboy. He had a backpack and a bedroll, both looking like they'd been dipped in mud, grease, and G-d only knows what else. And brother, did he stink. Even in the still air, I was tempted to hold my breath. Around his wrist was the other end of a length of clothesline ... He had come to my window seeking what I was handing out: A bowl of chili, a couple of tortillas, and a few cookies in a bag. He'd have to move on to the next window to get his coffee and orange juice. As I prepared to just silently hand him his "stuff", and add a quick "G-d bless you", he looked me in the eye. He had that look of prey ... wary, y'know, like a deer in the headlights, wanting to bolt, but not quite sure. Joan Baez once described someone's eyes as being "bluer than robins eggs". His fit that to a "T", looking up at me from the middle of his dirty face. "M'am", he said softly, "Excuse me for asking, but how much are we allowed to have?" I explained that everybody would be getting a serving of all that I had. He then said "Well, m'am, if it's all the same to you, could you keep that other stuff and give it to someone else, but let me have two bowls of that chili? See, my dog is cold, too, and he hasn't eaten since the last time I did." I couldn't help myself. I asked him what he'd do if I said "no". He smiled. He actually smiled. Then he said "Well, half a bowl is better than nothing. I'd still be awful grateful to you folks." He got what he wanted. Plus tortillas. And Cookies. There was still a long line of people waiting to be served, so as the man moved down toward the next window I lost sight of him and was too busy to give him much thought thereafter. I worked another hour or so and then said goodbye to the rest of the crew, wanting to be out of downtown well before rush hour started. As I was walking toward the parking lot I'd used, I caught a glimpse of someone in the distance...just a blur, really. A man and a dog, climbing up the steep incline of the highway underpass just down the street. As I stood there watching and as he disappeared into the crevices under that bridge, I knew I was seeing the blue-eyed man and his dog, heading "home" for the day. I have no idea how that man got to be where he is. I don't know what demons, real or imagined, have guided his life. Maybe he's just a bum who doesn't want to work for a living. Maybe drugs and alcohol have become the lords of his existence. Maybe this is the best, most secure home he's ever known. I just don't know. I'll never know. But what I do know is that he loves his dog, probably more than he loves himself. And for that, I wish I'd given him three bowls ... I also know that tonight I'll be praying for G-d to throw a special blanket over this man's shoulders ... and all the men, women and children who find themselves in similar circumstances. And I hope that all who need it will find themselves a safe harbor. I live in a beautiful home in a secure neighborhood. I have food, and clean water, and clothing, and a car, and I have a dog I love, too. And, though I'm never quite sure why, there are folks who really love me and care about what happens to me. I am humbled today ... and maybe all of you should be, too.
Tags: thoughts in the key of life
Okay. The Oscar nominations are out, and if you're like me that is a pretty ho-hum thing. I mean, I go to movies I think I'll like and I don't give two hoots and a holler whether the critics agree with me or not. But one thing strikes me about this year's nominations: Everybody seems to have a strong opinion about the "new" version of "True Grit", and comparing the performances of John Wayne and Jeff Bridges...whether they've seen the new one or not. Well, I've seen both, and to me, it's like comparing apples and oranges. As Rooster Cogburn, John Wayne was in his element. At the time the old version was made, I don't think there was an actor alive who could've played that role to such perfection. In fact, John Wayne won his one and only [not to mention, well-deserved] Academy Award for the performance. And now Jeff Bridges is nominated for the very same role in the new version. Does that mean he did a better job than John Wayne? Absolutely not. He did a different job than John Wayne. One of the smartest things Jeff Bridges did was to be careful not to play an actor who was trying to copy John Wayne's performance. He took Rooster and made the character his own. The new version's story line more closely follows the original book upon which this movie is based and if you haven't read the original book, you really should. But saying that only one person can play a role in any given movie [or theatrical production] is just plain silly. If that's true, then I guess Edwin Booth [John Wilkes Booth's brother] was the only one who could play Hamlet, or Sir Lawrence Olivier was the only one who could play Richard III, or Kenneth Branaugh is the only one who could play Henry V...which is nonsense. Say they wanted to do a remake of "An Officer And A Gentleman". Louis Gossett, Jr. won a very-well-deserved Oscar for his stand-out portrayal of Sgt. Foley, and Richard Gere was nominated for his role as Zach Mayo. However, I personally could see, say, Mark Wahlberg as Mayo, and perhaps Denzel Washington as Foley, or maybe Ice-T, or Vin Diezel. They are all good actors. Why couldn't they play the same role, only with their own "spin"? But back to "True Grit" ... I really encourage everybody to read the book, and then see the two movies. I enjoyed all three and don't feel I'm showing any kind of disrespect to John Wayne because of it.
Tags: movies ... starring roles ... oscars
Okay. I'll admit it. I'm just a tad pissed off as I write this. So don't expect it to be "nice". You all know (or should by now) that I really welcome all comments, and really would like to hear what you have to say, that's not my primary reason for writing this. This is pure "vent". I just finished writing out a check to the County Tax-Accessor/Collector's office for roughly $8500. [actually, it was $8496.31] Now that amount includes all of the taxes, from all of the entities that get property tax money from the landowners. That covers the cost of maintaining the police department, the fire department, the public works department, the hospital district, the city and county government, and of course, the schools. Now the school taxes are different, depending on what district in which you live. Across town the taxes may only be a fraction of the taxes we pay here. Like in almost anything to do with land, it's always "location ... location ... location". 'Lest you think differently, let me assure you I do not mind paying my fair share of the taxes. The hospital district and their services are the reason I'm alive today. I owe them much [not to mention an outstanding mountain of medical debt that they have been very kind about] And I certainly benefit from the police, fire, and public works protection. I don't even mind school taxes. I am a product of the public education system and the availability of that free education took me places I'd never have been able to go without it. It was the envy of the world. And were my school tax dollars being used in what I feel is the proper way now, I'd probably still complain, but at least I'd think the reasoning was good. But they're not. In the last 8 years there have been bond issues put before the voters asking for additional funds for "school improvements". [the payments on these bonds is made through the collection of school taxes...which have gone up every year] And where did the majority of this money go? To new computers for the schools? To new textbooks? To fostering the arts? To repairing the existing infrastructure of many of our schools? To increased salaries for teachers and/or other school personnel? Oh, a fraction went to all those things, but the majority: The construction of FIVE [that's right, 5] new athletic complexes. Remember when you were in high school and the football field was right next to the school? And on Friday nights you'd all crowd into those rickety bleachers and cheer on the team? Well apparently that's passe for the prima dona athletes today. We already have 2 major athletic centers, complete with nautitoriums, stadiums, gymnasiums (with airconditioned locker rooms) basketball courts, tennis courts, tracks, state-of-the-art weight rooms, et. al., another one is under construction and there are 2 more in the works. There are no more student-athletes; now they're athlete-students. I know that athletics are the "way out" and a means for a paid education for a select handful of kids...but what about all the kids who are doing without so that the next Peyton Manning can hone his game? OK ... that's enough. Your turn ... if you want to take it.
GINGERBREAD 2-1/4 cups flour 1/2 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 2 heaping teaspoons ground ginger 1 heaping teaspoon ground cinnamon 1/2 heaping teaspoon ground cloves 1/2 heaping teaspoon ground nutmeg 1/2 heaping teaspoon ground nutmet 1/2 heaping teaspoon ground allspice 1 stick (4 oz) of real butter, softened 3/4 cup molasses 2/3 cup honey 1 cup milk (not skim) 2 extra-large eggs Preheat the oven to 350*F. Grease and flour your pan(s). In a medium-sized bowl combine all of the dry ingredients. In a different, larger bowl, combine all of the wet ingredients, including the butter and eggs. Blend this until smooth. Then, slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet and mix only until everything's blended and the lumps are gone. Pour into your prepared pan(s) and cook on the middle rack in your oven until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean (about 35-45 minutes, give or take) Cool on a rack for about 5-10 minutes before you try and take it out of the pan and/or cut it. Hope you enjoy it.
I blogged about this topic over on "that other place", and was gratified by all of the neat responses. Well, I'm on my second day of being shut-in by the flu and in sore need of "comfort", and as is quite often the case, that comfort came in the form of food. Campbell's tomato soup (made with water and a pat of butter floated on top) and a grilled cheese sandwich made with Velveeta. Fried bologna sandwiches made with thick-sliced bologna on white bread with Miracle Whip (not mayo) Fried SPAM sandwiches served with Campbells chicken-noodle soup. Hot gingerbread, slathered with butter, and a glass of ice-cold milk. Hot chocolate made with real cocoa powder, sugar, butter, and milk ... with a slice of candied orange floating on top. Meatloaf sandwiches; hash from Sunday's leftover roast; chicken a'la king made with the leftover baked chicken and biscuits; liver and onions with brown gravy served over white rice; tangerines at Xmas time ... So how 'bout it, gang? I'm sure you all have comfort foods you could tell me about. When you were low or not feeling well, what were some of the things your Mom (or Dad, or anybody you loved and who loved you back) would make for you that somehow made it all seem a little better? Inquiring minds want to know!! LOLOL 
PLEASE ACCEPT MY SINCERE WISHES TO YOU AND YOURS FOR A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A PROSPEROUS NEW YEAR!!
Warning: This blog is political and not one bit politically correct. For some of you, it may even border on the offensive. For some of you it may cross the border entirely. But this is my page and my blog. The door is right over there, and you have been warned!! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I was born in Arkansas and raised the first few years of my life in Texas. After that, I gypsied around the world following my father's civilian career with the DOD. We moved, on average, every couple of years. It wasn't a bad life at all. I got to live in lots of different places, including a couple of years in Italy. I had the opportunity to interact with and live amongst a wide variety of people. However, his early death at age 37 [from a rare form of cancer that we discovered years later probably was a result of his work] brought my mother, my sister and I back to the South, which except for vacations here and there, I didn't leave again until I was in my 30's. After a 17-year stint as a military wife, circumstance brought me back once again to the South...to the jewel in the crown, Texas. And so here I am ... And so here I intend to stay. So what purpose did that little bit of biography serve? Just to let you know. I am a woman. There have even been a few, here and there, who've called me a lady. I am a child of the South. I am a Texan. And I am sick and G.D. tired of having to walk on eggshells and be careful with every little word that pops out of my mouth. When I was coming up, black people were called everything from "darkies", to "coons", to "colored", to "neegro", to "niggers", to "black", to "afro-american", to the current political label "African-American". Seems that the nomenclature changed every few years. I finally settled on "black". No ... I don't know a single person who is truly the color black. Just like I'm sure you don't know a single person who is truly white ... or brown ... or red ... or yellow. So when I call you "black", I'm not being insulting, so let it be. Next, when I was growing up, it was fine for everybody, male and female, to have a "gay old time". Now, you might get slapped with some man's purse if you use the word "gay" improperly. Now I don't give two hoots and a holler how two (or more) grown-up people get their jollies. I figure that's really none of my business ... but "gay" was MY word before it was yours!! [oh, and just for a point of reference, the word "faggot" means a piece of smoldering wood, nothing more, nothing less, and if you weren't too ignorant to use a dictionary, you'd know that!!] When that kid down the street you grew up with had to be channeled into "the special class", you all knew it was because he was RETARDED ... not "mentally challenged" or "developmentally disabled". This was not a judgement on the kid. It was just a fact of life. And putting a pretty name on it doesn't change the fact that the boy "wasn't quite right". And when you were short, you were short ... not "vertically challenged". A chairman was a chairman ... not a "chairperson". The person who was in charge of a jury was a foreman ... not a foreperson. You were either a "Miss" or a "Mrs." ... none of this "Mzzzz" bullcrap. In most homes, the man went out and worked, and the woman stayed home, and kept everything running smoothly. The dad mowed the lawn and the mom cooked and cleaned. This never meant that the man was smart or the woman stupid ... and in fact, quite often, the reverse was true. But for that time of the world, they had their roles and they played them. Kids called their teachers "Mr." or "Mrs." They sat in their seats, they learned their lessons. They said "yes sir" and "yes m'am", and spoke in class only when it pertained to the lesson at hand, or when they raised their hand and asked a question. They may have thought the teacher was a total jerk, but they respected "the office", if not the person. And G-d forbid you made trouble in school, because no matter what punishment you got there, it was going to be ten times worse when you got home. And the list can continue on an on. So why this particular rant at this particular time? Because looking back on this silliness of "polically correct speech", it seems easier to jump up and down on "expression" rather than action. Instead of really confronting the problems and concerns of this nation, like racism [between all groups], women's rights, rights for disabled people, rights of same-sex couples, we have allowed these things to be put on the back burner while we worry about what they're called. We magnified the trivial, and trivialized the magnitude. Maybe it's time that we all got back to where you called a spade a spade ... and when you did, you didn't even think about a person ... just a tool with which to move soil. And one last thing: the word "disrespect" is not a verb. It is a noun. You can show someone disrespect, but they can't "disrespect" you back.
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