When the Bush administration’s war in Iraq resulted in the country being overrun by American troops rather quickly, victory was celebrated prematurely when the President declared on board the USS Abraham Lincoln that major military operations had ended. The end of major military operations, or so it turned out, was not the end of the war, which continues to this day.
It would appear that the President might be making the same mistake now that the landmark elections have been held on the day scheduled, and with a minimum loss of lives, and a maximum of participation by the Iraqi electorate. Already the President has declared the process to be a success, and has lauded the Iraqi people’s commitment to democracy.
And yet this election was not held to seat a government, but to begin the process of forming a basis for a government. From the results of this election, a constitutional convention will write a document that must then be ratified by the people. Only then will a government be elected and seated.
And we do not yet know what sort of constitution or government will emerge from this process. Remember that the majority of the citizens of this country are Shiite, and that they have long been repressed by the minority Sunni Muslims. And remember that those members of the Shiite community who participated in the election were not reticent in declaring that their one ambition was to rid the country of outside (read American) troops. And remember that the most of these Shiites have long admired the Iranian Islamic Republic, which to this day still disdains anything American or democratic. So we are not out of the woods yet, not by a long shot.
So what should the reaction of the coalition be if, as could very well be the case, a government emerges that does closely resemble the Islamic Republic in Iran? What if this government does not allow the institutions of democracy to even be formed, let alone flourish? Those Islamic countries whose rule has been based on the Shari’ah, or Muslim code of religious law, have not been exactly been known for their progressive viewpoints.
And what about the future President of Iraq? What if the radical cleric Moqtada Al-Sadr, whose Mehdi Army militia was involved in a revolt against the coalition forces, and who has only reluctantly joined the political process, is elected? Certainly the U. S. could not view this optimistically. In short, there are a lot of what-ifs to be addressed before anyone can ever think that the Iraqi election is anything like a success.
And why should we be thinking the worse at this point? Simply because the Bush administration seems to look at the world through rose-colored glasses. This is the same President who, when asked what he considered to have been his greatest mistakes during his first term, could find no fault in himself.
Now consider what we have spent in resources and lives, to have achieved what little has been achieved, in Iraq. In essence, the President has bet some 200 billion dollars, some 1500 plus (and counting) American lives, an unknown, but considerably larger number of Iraqi civilian lives, and both American and British prestige, that Iraq will become a democracy, a bet that by no means has been won yet.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Clean it up, please
Have you ever heard someone put down an organization of which they are a part? This is a more common thing than you might ever think. For instance, while I was working for an area car dealership’s service department, a certain problem arose. There was a question as to whether or not we could handle it, and I, optimistic fellow that I am, asserted that, of course we could handle it. After all, this was the service department. We handled nearly impossible situations everyday, and always in short order. Impossible ones like this we could do as well. They would only take a little more time.
That was met with a derisive snort or two from the mechanics. And from that I took it to mean that not everyone had the faith in our organization that I apparently had. I might have argued that unless we believed in ourselves to the point that we felt pride as a team, our efforts to get any job done would be severely handicapped. Teams are, after all, al lot like the proverbial chain. Chains are, it is said, only as strong as their weakest links. So teams, then, no matter their composition, or their objectives, are only as effective as the individuals who make up the team conceive them to be. And if any team member sees the team as weak and ineffective, then that is what the team ultimately is.
I didn’t take the time to make those arguments then. But I have spent a lot of time since thinking over the value of self-esteem, both individual self-esteem, and group self-esteem. And I think that those organizational geniuses that have made Toyota the roaring success it is may have found something in the way they approach team spirit. Team spirit is a highly valued thing in this world. Achieving and maintaining esprit de corps is an ongoing exercise. Individuals are encouraged to think of the team as an effective entity. Once team members have a positive image of the organization, the organization becomes more effective in its goal of producing high-quality products.
I bring this up, because in my current incarnation as a substitute teacher, I often hear students express a poor opinion of the schools they attend. And this troubles me. Why do these students, who are a part of schools that have successes in many areas, feel so negatively about them? I often point out the qualities that I feel these schools possess, and I also point out that if the schools are, in fact, of as poor a quality as is being asserted by the students, then these students not only have a poor opinion of their schools, they have a poor opinion of themselves as well, as it is the students who make the school what it is.
So, if it is true that the schools in question is of a higher caliber than its students give them credit for being, then the trouble lies not in the schools, but in the image that these students have of them. And it is at times like these that I wonder what the school administration is doing to build up a positive image of the school in its student’s minds. What factors are there that contribute to these poor perceptions?
There is a theory in keeping cities from becoming run down that originated in New York, while Rudy Guilliani was its mayor. It went like this; let any building in any block suffer from an un-repaired broken window, and in a short while, there will be many more broken windows. Leave these un-repaired, and in an unbelievably short time, there will be massive urban decay in the affected area.
I have seen similar situations in some schools. Often rooms are not kept as clean as they might be. Dirty floors and uncollected trash, for instance, often cry out for company, and they usually get it in short order from the students. Once this happens, books are vandalized, and like the cityscape in the above example, esprit de corps plummets as the learning environment deteriorates.
It is times like these when I wonder, what would the schools be like if the administrators took the same tack as the supervisors in the Toyota organization take? What if teachers and principals took the time to insure that rooms were kept as clean as possible, and also to insure that each day, the students were encouraged to think of themselves and their schools as being the very best in the business?
A friend and I were once discussing the idea of becoming a millionaire, and my friend expressed the opinion that, for us, it was a pipe dream. You may be right about that, I countered, but there is one thing for sure. No one ever became a millionaire without thinking the thing was at least remotely possible.
So it is with the schools. Any given school may not be the best in the system, but it certainly cannot become the best unless someone there believes it can be, and somehow communicates that idea to others in the institution and gets them to believe it, as well.
That was met with a derisive snort or two from the mechanics. And from that I took it to mean that not everyone had the faith in our organization that I apparently had. I might have argued that unless we believed in ourselves to the point that we felt pride as a team, our efforts to get any job done would be severely handicapped. Teams are, after all, al lot like the proverbial chain. Chains are, it is said, only as strong as their weakest links. So teams, then, no matter their composition, or their objectives, are only as effective as the individuals who make up the team conceive them to be. And if any team member sees the team as weak and ineffective, then that is what the team ultimately is.
I didn’t take the time to make those arguments then. But I have spent a lot of time since thinking over the value of self-esteem, both individual self-esteem, and group self-esteem. And I think that those organizational geniuses that have made Toyota the roaring success it is may have found something in the way they approach team spirit. Team spirit is a highly valued thing in this world. Achieving and maintaining esprit de corps is an ongoing exercise. Individuals are encouraged to think of the team as an effective entity. Once team members have a positive image of the organization, the organization becomes more effective in its goal of producing high-quality products.
I bring this up, because in my current incarnation as a substitute teacher, I often hear students express a poor opinion of the schools they attend. And this troubles me. Why do these students, who are a part of schools that have successes in many areas, feel so negatively about them? I often point out the qualities that I feel these schools possess, and I also point out that if the schools are, in fact, of as poor a quality as is being asserted by the students, then these students not only have a poor opinion of their schools, they have a poor opinion of themselves as well, as it is the students who make the school what it is.
So, if it is true that the schools in question is of a higher caliber than its students give them credit for being, then the trouble lies not in the schools, but in the image that these students have of them. And it is at times like these that I wonder what the school administration is doing to build up a positive image of the school in its student’s minds. What factors are there that contribute to these poor perceptions?
There is a theory in keeping cities from becoming run down that originated in New York, while Rudy Guilliani was its mayor. It went like this; let any building in any block suffer from an un-repaired broken window, and in a short while, there will be many more broken windows. Leave these un-repaired, and in an unbelievably short time, there will be massive urban decay in the affected area.
I have seen similar situations in some schools. Often rooms are not kept as clean as they might be. Dirty floors and uncollected trash, for instance, often cry out for company, and they usually get it in short order from the students. Once this happens, books are vandalized, and like the cityscape in the above example, esprit de corps plummets as the learning environment deteriorates.
It is times like these when I wonder, what would the schools be like if the administrators took the same tack as the supervisors in the Toyota organization take? What if teachers and principals took the time to insure that rooms were kept as clean as possible, and also to insure that each day, the students were encouraged to think of themselves and their schools as being the very best in the business?
A friend and I were once discussing the idea of becoming a millionaire, and my friend expressed the opinion that, for us, it was a pipe dream. You may be right about that, I countered, but there is one thing for sure. No one ever became a millionaire without thinking the thing was at least remotely possible.
So it is with the schools. Any given school may not be the best in the system, but it certainly cannot become the best unless someone there believes it can be, and somehow communicates that idea to others in the institution and gets them to believe it, as well.
L'arnin' the young'uns 'bout old time music
It was my honorable (op-ed) ancestor, Squire Lawrence Webster who once opined in his infamous “Red Dog” column (I paraphrase him) that in the world of hillbilly music, Bluegrass would always take a back seat to what he termed “old-timie music”. At a later date, whilst playing a bit at the Appalshop, Sir Lawrence elucidated (it’s a good word, look it up) by saying that he felt Bluegrass had given up the power of the traditional music from which it sprang. Alas, when the good Sir Larry made his first statement, I was ignorant of the meaning of those portentous words, but I am, with the help of the Appalshop, it’s in-house radio station, WMMT, and such fine musicians that regularly play at its old-time jams, slowly gaining enough knowledge of this area’s musical history so that I no longer feel ashamed of not knowing about what is, after all, a part of my heritage.
English humorist P. G. Wodehouse was, like a lot of his fellow countrymen, a golfer, and felt that this game was a bit of a higher calling. Of one of his protagonists, a fellow who came to know this game late in life, Wodehouse said that it was better that he came to know it late than not to know it at all. I feel the same way about the mountain music that I have come to know and love, albeit that I came to know it as late as the character in Wodehouse’s short story came to know golf.
But I feel somehow that I am not altogether at fault at having remained so ignorant of my cultural heritage for so long. Certainly it was not his fault either, but the late Appalachian historian, Harry Caudill, in his landmark book, “Night Comes to the Cumberlands” stated that the groups that settled our region did not leave much of an artistic legacy in their wake. I suppose he actually believed that, but I have come to find out that it simply is not true.
Of course, another institution in this region might have done something to help alleviate my ignorance, and that is the area’s schools. But in the whole of my educational experience in Pike County, not much was said of this area, not even in the Kentucky history course that we took in the seventh grade. And I remember searching hopefully, but in vain, for information on Pike County in this book. All I found was that there was coal here. Well, duh!
So for all of these reasons (these and the fact that my head is extraordinarily thick) I went a lot of years without knowing the joy of real hillbilly music. Now some of you, at this point may be asking (in the words of Bugs Bunny) “Why the copious flow of lachrymal fluid?” It is just this. We need to be more aware of who we are, and this information needs to be given to our young ones at as early an age as they are able to absorb it. And this could be quite literally from the womb, as there are mothers who play music for their unborn children.
But better than that would be classes in all of our area schools that would stress (from Kindergarten on) the roots from which our music came, music that was played by the early “hillbilly” singers, such as Uncle Dave Macon (of whom WMMT Deejay the Old Dutchman said, it was Uncle Dave that made it mandatory for all banjo players to be called “Uncle”), the Stonemans, the Carter family, Jimmy Rogers “the blue yodeler”, to name but a few.
And while we are at it, we could make them aware of those who keep this musical heritage alive today, those musicians who, in the words of the Old Dutchman, “make music, but ain’t necessarily trying to get rich at it.”
By doing this, we would go a long way in instilling pride in our area residents. We could give each young person much needed self-esteem. We could make sure that there would be musicians to carry on this tradition far into the future. And maybe we could keep them from listening to that “ferrin” stuff they listen to now, so that it would no longer need to be said of them (from the Eddie Murphy film “Dr. Doolittle) “So young! So angry! Damn that rap music!”
English humorist P. G. Wodehouse was, like a lot of his fellow countrymen, a golfer, and felt that this game was a bit of a higher calling. Of one of his protagonists, a fellow who came to know this game late in life, Wodehouse said that it was better that he came to know it late than not to know it at all. I feel the same way about the mountain music that I have come to know and love, albeit that I came to know it as late as the character in Wodehouse’s short story came to know golf.
But I feel somehow that I am not altogether at fault at having remained so ignorant of my cultural heritage for so long. Certainly it was not his fault either, but the late Appalachian historian, Harry Caudill, in his landmark book, “Night Comes to the Cumberlands” stated that the groups that settled our region did not leave much of an artistic legacy in their wake. I suppose he actually believed that, but I have come to find out that it simply is not true.
Of course, another institution in this region might have done something to help alleviate my ignorance, and that is the area’s schools. But in the whole of my educational experience in Pike County, not much was said of this area, not even in the Kentucky history course that we took in the seventh grade. And I remember searching hopefully, but in vain, for information on Pike County in this book. All I found was that there was coal here. Well, duh!
So for all of these reasons (these and the fact that my head is extraordinarily thick) I went a lot of years without knowing the joy of real hillbilly music. Now some of you, at this point may be asking (in the words of Bugs Bunny) “Why the copious flow of lachrymal fluid?” It is just this. We need to be more aware of who we are, and this information needs to be given to our young ones at as early an age as they are able to absorb it. And this could be quite literally from the womb, as there are mothers who play music for their unborn children.
But better than that would be classes in all of our area schools that would stress (from Kindergarten on) the roots from which our music came, music that was played by the early “hillbilly” singers, such as Uncle Dave Macon (of whom WMMT Deejay the Old Dutchman said, it was Uncle Dave that made it mandatory for all banjo players to be called “Uncle”), the Stonemans, the Carter family, Jimmy Rogers “the blue yodeler”, to name but a few.
And while we are at it, we could make them aware of those who keep this musical heritage alive today, those musicians who, in the words of the Old Dutchman, “make music, but ain’t necessarily trying to get rich at it.”
By doing this, we would go a long way in instilling pride in our area residents. We could give each young person much needed self-esteem. We could make sure that there would be musicians to carry on this tradition far into the future. And maybe we could keep them from listening to that “ferrin” stuff they listen to now, so that it would no longer need to be said of them (from the Eddie Murphy film “Dr. Doolittle) “So young! So angry! Damn that rap music!”
Hillbillies is alright for me
With the annual Hillbilly Days celebration upon us, it would behoove us, at this point, to reflect upon the term “hillbilly” and the pejorative sense in which the word is generally used. Upon hearing this term, an image is immediately brought to mind, and it is usually not a pleasing one. I will do the reader the service of not describing the stereotypical hillbilly, but suffice it to say that the inhabitants of those regions wherein these stereotypes are said to dwell are none too happy with it.
This unease with the use of said term extends even to our little celebration, and there have been rumblings of late against the use of the title “Hillbilly Days” for the few days in April when clans from all over the nation get together and search for, as an on-air personality over at WMMT radio terms it “our inner hillbilly”. (I’d credit the coiner of this phrase by name, but it escapes me at this particular moment.)
This can be troubling for those of us who have no problem parading around in our “best” bibs, whilst imbibing some good homebrew, and generally “swangin’” around the town of Pikeville some.
Believe it or not, however, this is not the only instance in the history of “Hillbilly-dom” where the user of the term “hillbilly” has come to grief, and overcome the situation, I might add.
Over in the town of Richwood, West Virginia, there once lived a man by the name of Jim Comstock, a newspaper editor by trade, who published one of the best local newspapers ever in the history of our great land. This is a broad statement, however I’m convinced I can back it up.
The newspaper that was put out by our intrepid hero was entitled “The West Virginia Hillbilly”. Mr. Comstock had what must have been the most well developed sense of humor of any person who ever worked a position such as his. The motto for his paper, for instance was “A weakly (SIC) paper, edited by an editor who can’t write, for people who can’t read.”
Frequently included in his paper were stories such as this tongue-in-cheek saga about the 1960 presidential primary which catapulted John Kennedy to the Democratic nomination that year, entitled “Pa Ain’t Gonna Sell His Vote to No Catholic.” (One reason given was if a Catholic were elected, you’d soon have hot and cold running Holy Water in the White House.)
The name “West Virginia Hillbilly” upset many a delicate constitution within the Mountain State, what with its great motto “Montani Semper Liberi” or “Mountaineers are always free”. Many an appeal was made to Mr. Comstock to “please take that degrading name off your newspaper!” and at length Mr. Comstock acceded, and actually changed the name of his newspaper.
The very next edition of the “West Virginia Hillbilly” came out with a new title, Jim Comstock style. In small normal type at the top of the paper were the words “The Mountain Laurel, formerly”-and in its usual bold banner type-“The West Virginia Hillbilly.”
(“What?!? I changed it!”)
The fact of the matter is this, the intelligence of Jim Comstock showed through in every edition of his newspaper, and he had fans all over the country, and as great as the outcry that brought about his mock name change was, the outcry at an actual name change would have drowned out the former quite easily.
Jim Comstock was at ease at who he was. He knew and loved his state of West Virginia, his town of Richwood, and its inhabitants. And he did not cower in the face of those who know nothing of the joys of being a hillbilly.
And I would suggest to all of you who are in town to celebrate with this great Hillbilly nation that you take heart as Jim Comstock did while he was alive, and own up to who you are. Do not let the Philistines cause you to forsake your heritage.
There are those whose butts are too tight to ever ease up and have a good time. And if that is the case, lets hope that they stay in whatever uptight state they may find themselves in. As for the rest of us, we’ll all be in Pikeville this week, enjoying being what God in his Wisdom made us to be, and what everybody sensible would want to be for a few glorious days in April-Hillbillies!
This unease with the use of said term extends even to our little celebration, and there have been rumblings of late against the use of the title “Hillbilly Days” for the few days in April when clans from all over the nation get together and search for, as an on-air personality over at WMMT radio terms it “our inner hillbilly”. (I’d credit the coiner of this phrase by name, but it escapes me at this particular moment.)
This can be troubling for those of us who have no problem parading around in our “best” bibs, whilst imbibing some good homebrew, and generally “swangin’” around the town of Pikeville some.
Believe it or not, however, this is not the only instance in the history of “Hillbilly-dom” where the user of the term “hillbilly” has come to grief, and overcome the situation, I might add.
Over in the town of Richwood, West Virginia, there once lived a man by the name of Jim Comstock, a newspaper editor by trade, who published one of the best local newspapers ever in the history of our great land. This is a broad statement, however I’m convinced I can back it up.
The newspaper that was put out by our intrepid hero was entitled “The West Virginia Hillbilly”. Mr. Comstock had what must have been the most well developed sense of humor of any person who ever worked a position such as his. The motto for his paper, for instance was “A weakly (SIC) paper, edited by an editor who can’t write, for people who can’t read.”
Frequently included in his paper were stories such as this tongue-in-cheek saga about the 1960 presidential primary which catapulted John Kennedy to the Democratic nomination that year, entitled “Pa Ain’t Gonna Sell His Vote to No Catholic.” (One reason given was if a Catholic were elected, you’d soon have hot and cold running Holy Water in the White House.)
The name “West Virginia Hillbilly” upset many a delicate constitution within the Mountain State, what with its great motto “Montani Semper Liberi” or “Mountaineers are always free”. Many an appeal was made to Mr. Comstock to “please take that degrading name off your newspaper!” and at length Mr. Comstock acceded, and actually changed the name of his newspaper.
The very next edition of the “West Virginia Hillbilly” came out with a new title, Jim Comstock style. In small normal type at the top of the paper were the words “The Mountain Laurel, formerly”-and in its usual bold banner type-“The West Virginia Hillbilly.”
(“What?!? I changed it!”)
The fact of the matter is this, the intelligence of Jim Comstock showed through in every edition of his newspaper, and he had fans all over the country, and as great as the outcry that brought about his mock name change was, the outcry at an actual name change would have drowned out the former quite easily.
Jim Comstock was at ease at who he was. He knew and loved his state of West Virginia, his town of Richwood, and its inhabitants. And he did not cower in the face of those who know nothing of the joys of being a hillbilly.
And I would suggest to all of you who are in town to celebrate with this great Hillbilly nation that you take heart as Jim Comstock did while he was alive, and own up to who you are. Do not let the Philistines cause you to forsake your heritage.
There are those whose butts are too tight to ever ease up and have a good time. And if that is the case, lets hope that they stay in whatever uptight state they may find themselves in. As for the rest of us, we’ll all be in Pikeville this week, enjoying being what God in his Wisdom made us to be, and what everybody sensible would want to be for a few glorious days in April-Hillbillies!
Ford goes to the dogs
The other shoe finally dropped this week. Ford Motor Company, following in the footsteps of General Motors, has announced plans to “restructure” itself in an attempt to turn around its North American operations, which lost a whopping $1.6 billion dollars last year. This “restructure” will result in the loss of some 30,000 American jobs, and the closure of fourteen plants. In other words, Ford plans to lay off around 25% of its North American workforce.
Like General Motors, Ford seems to think that the wisest course is to retrench. Well, Ford has, I suppose, in a manner of speaking, been retrenching for some time now. In fact, Ford has seen its share of the American market slide for the tenth straight year. And under the heading of “It never rains, but it pours”, for the first time in 19 years, Chevrolet, not Ford, is now the leading brand of cars sold in the U. S. Well, at least it wasn’t Toyota that took Ford’s Crown. Not yet, at any rate.
It’s hard to believe how hard times have gotten for the Big Two of American car manufacturing. Ford, for instance, held a 24% share of the U. S. market in 1990. It is now down to 17.4%.
As hard as that is to understand, it is much more difficult to grasp Ford’s inability to stop the bleeding. One reason for the large pool of red ink this year, as cited by an AOL news story, was the slide in the sales of the large sports utility vehicles last year. Oddly enough, it was the large profit margin on these vehicles that persuaded Ford to invest so heavily in them instead of passenger cars.
Some good news, if there is any, comes from Scot McClellan, President Bush’s press secretary, who said of the pending downsizing “Anytime anyone loses a job, we’re concerned about it…” Of course, McClellan also said that the economy, in his view “is going strong.” Which means two things, one, that are plenty of minimum wage jobs around, (the only kind the Bush administration seems to produce), and two, that help from the Bush administration will not be forthcoming.
The terrible truth about the American market is this: There are too many players in it right now. And neither Ford nor General Motors seem to be able to attract and keep a loyal base of customers. And I have an idea as to why that might be the case. Neither automaker produces a quality entry-level vehicle. That job has been left to the foreign automakers.
To illustrate this last point, Ford’s entry in this field in the ‘90’s was a car called the Aspire. It was a car that had to contend with the well-made Toyota Corolla. It replaced a similar shoebox called the Fiesta. Yes, it was entry-level priced, but it had very little to recommend it.
There was a joke going around about this car at a local dealership, which had quite a few stripped down models to try and sale. It went “What do you call an Aspire with no air conditioning?” (Which described the most of them on the lot at that time.) Answer-“A Perspire!”
And some people wondered why this model was discontinued so quickly.
Not only does neither of the Big Two produce anything in a quality entry-level car, it seems that every time one of their models is replaced, its replacement will always be considerably more expensive. Take for instance the old Bronco II. This was a sensibly priced four-wheel drive vehicle whose replacement, the Explorer, set off the SUV craze. And the Bronco, known now as the O. J. escape vehicle, was cast aside for a newer model, the Expedition. And there was the old stand-by, the Ford Tempo, a plain car, not unlike the Model T in its dependableness and sturdiness. It was replaced by the Ford Contour. In each instance, the replacement vehicle was not only a better quality vehicle, it was also priced considerably higher, and the buyers of the older models could not always afford their replacement.
And neither carmaker seems to have grasped the obvious. The Detroit auto show is seeing Ford and GM showing off concept versions of high priced sports cars such as the Camaro and Mustang. And Ford, for its part, can show you high priced versions of some of its ‘60’s muscle cars, such as the GT40, or the Shelby Cobra. These cars will go wickedly fast from 0-60, but they won’t do a thing to make Ford a household name again.
And if enough hadn’t gone wrong already, that entry-level field is getting a little bit more crowded. For, from the land that supplies American with the majority of its cheap, plastic crap, comes a Chinese car called the “Geely”.
Don’t laugh too hard. Remember those cheap little Korean brands everyone was making fun of a few years back? It seems they’ve become respectable in a remarkably short time. And if they could do it, well…
Like General Motors, Ford seems to think that the wisest course is to retrench. Well, Ford has, I suppose, in a manner of speaking, been retrenching for some time now. In fact, Ford has seen its share of the American market slide for the tenth straight year. And under the heading of “It never rains, but it pours”, for the first time in 19 years, Chevrolet, not Ford, is now the leading brand of cars sold in the U. S. Well, at least it wasn’t Toyota that took Ford’s Crown. Not yet, at any rate.
It’s hard to believe how hard times have gotten for the Big Two of American car manufacturing. Ford, for instance, held a 24% share of the U. S. market in 1990. It is now down to 17.4%.
As hard as that is to understand, it is much more difficult to grasp Ford’s inability to stop the bleeding. One reason for the large pool of red ink this year, as cited by an AOL news story, was the slide in the sales of the large sports utility vehicles last year. Oddly enough, it was the large profit margin on these vehicles that persuaded Ford to invest so heavily in them instead of passenger cars.
Some good news, if there is any, comes from Scot McClellan, President Bush’s press secretary, who said of the pending downsizing “Anytime anyone loses a job, we’re concerned about it…” Of course, McClellan also said that the economy, in his view “is going strong.” Which means two things, one, that are plenty of minimum wage jobs around, (the only kind the Bush administration seems to produce), and two, that help from the Bush administration will not be forthcoming.
The terrible truth about the American market is this: There are too many players in it right now. And neither Ford nor General Motors seem to be able to attract and keep a loyal base of customers. And I have an idea as to why that might be the case. Neither automaker produces a quality entry-level vehicle. That job has been left to the foreign automakers.
To illustrate this last point, Ford’s entry in this field in the ‘90’s was a car called the Aspire. It was a car that had to contend with the well-made Toyota Corolla. It replaced a similar shoebox called the Fiesta. Yes, it was entry-level priced, but it had very little to recommend it.
There was a joke going around about this car at a local dealership, which had quite a few stripped down models to try and sale. It went “What do you call an Aspire with no air conditioning?” (Which described the most of them on the lot at that time.) Answer-“A Perspire!”
And some people wondered why this model was discontinued so quickly.
Not only does neither of the Big Two produce anything in a quality entry-level car, it seems that every time one of their models is replaced, its replacement will always be considerably more expensive. Take for instance the old Bronco II. This was a sensibly priced four-wheel drive vehicle whose replacement, the Explorer, set off the SUV craze. And the Bronco, known now as the O. J. escape vehicle, was cast aside for a newer model, the Expedition. And there was the old stand-by, the Ford Tempo, a plain car, not unlike the Model T in its dependableness and sturdiness. It was replaced by the Ford Contour. In each instance, the replacement vehicle was not only a better quality vehicle, it was also priced considerably higher, and the buyers of the older models could not always afford their replacement.
And neither carmaker seems to have grasped the obvious. The Detroit auto show is seeing Ford and GM showing off concept versions of high priced sports cars such as the Camaro and Mustang. And Ford, for its part, can show you high priced versions of some of its ‘60’s muscle cars, such as the GT40, or the Shelby Cobra. These cars will go wickedly fast from 0-60, but they won’t do a thing to make Ford a household name again.
And if enough hadn’t gone wrong already, that entry-level field is getting a little bit more crowded. For, from the land that supplies American with the majority of its cheap, plastic crap, comes a Chinese car called the “Geely”.
Don’t laugh too hard. Remember those cheap little Korean brands everyone was making fun of a few years back? It seems they’ve become respectable in a remarkably short time. And if they could do it, well…
Fools rush in where private enterprise fears to tread
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft agley.
To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest, With The Plow Robert Burns
Whenever I hear of the latest talk out of Pikeville, where elected officials are falling all over themselves to be seen as supporters of the scheme that would turn coal into diesel, I can’t help but be reminded of the Biblical story from the second chapter of Daniel concerning the dream of the Babylonian King, Nebuchadnezzar, wherein he saw the great idol whose body was composed of fine metals. It was only the feet of the idol that was composed of common materials, potter’s clay and iron. It fell to the Hebrew, Daniel, to tell Nebuchadnezzar that these feet of clay would be the undoing of this statue, an allegory for his kingdom. This expression, feet of clay, has come to mean small details that will undo larger aims.
One can only imagine how Nebuchadnezzar felt when he saw the idol in his dreams; its head was made of gold, its chest and arms of silver, its lower body of brass, and legs of iron. Had these been the only things to consider, Nebuchadnezzar’s kingdom would have been secure. But there were those feet of clay. In the dream to make Pike County the leader in the nation’s drive for energy independence, being able to produce diesel from coal must loom as large as the statue in Nebuchadnezzar’s dream. What fine things this dream is composed of; the idealistic goal of lessening our dependence of what are, by any definition of the term, unstable sources of petroleum, the jobs that having such a plant built in Pike County would produce, and the resultant positive impact on the local economy. But like the great idol which Nebuchadnezzar saw, this dream, too, had its feet of clay, and, like Daniel of old, who played the part of the deliverer of bad news, someone must tell those modern day dreamers that, unless certain troubling aspects of such a project can be adequately addressed, this colossus may be similarly doomed.
I can’t imagine that Daniel was the most popular fellow in the kingdom after he delivered his interpretation of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream. But then, those with bad news are seldom made to feel welcome, especially when everyone has had their hopes raised. In this situation, playing the part of Daniel is the group, Kentuckians for the Commonwealth(KFTC). You remember, this is the group that former State Representative Howard Cornett-who momentarily confused them with the Appalshop people-called a bunch of old hippies. So here we are, all waiting for the good times to roll, when KFTC shows up, and points out the fact that the feet of this statue are, at least in its opinion, composed of the same clay that doomed the Babylonian kingdom. And I would bet that KFTC is just as popular in Pikeville as Daniel was in Babylon.
But if anything good is to come of the proposal to turn Kentucky coal into diesel, then all aspects of it must be examined up front. I do not mean to bring up any bad memories, but in the Tuesday, June 19, 2007 edition of the APEX that tells of the symposium whose aim it is to get the ball rolling, there is, ironically, an item that was meant to be included in the “Back in Time” feature about the fate of a similar proposal for the county from Judge Wayne Rutherford’s first administration, the so-called coal gasification plant. While, through regrettable oversight, this item was not printed in the body of this feature, the implication, nevertheless, is clear: Overlook any small detail here, and this project may meet a similar demise.
And one of the most troubling aspects is how to come up with the money for what will be a multibillion dollar price tag. Don’t think that a billion dollar plus price tag would, for a moment, deter private enterprise if this venture was worthwhile. A good deal more money is routinely invested when the cost can be recouped with a profit. But private enterprise is apparently not convinced of the cost-effectiveness of turning coal into diesel, as no private investor is waiting in the wings. And this is why the coal industry-with the encouragement of Kentucky’s junior senator, Jim Bunning, co-sponsor, oddly enough, with Illinois Senator, and Democratic presidential candidate, Barrack Obama of a bill to offer incentives for this proposal-is trying to secure financing from the taxpayer. But again, if private enterprise is unwilling to undertake this project on its own, why should the taxpayer be hit on?
And on the state level, we are told, in the same issue of the APEX that, among other incentives the state would offer the coal industry, is a rebate-or kickback, as my friend from high school, Squire Gregory Ward, insisted on calling it-of 80% of the coal severance tax when new coal is mined with an eye toward turning it into diesel. Nothing is mentioned on how we will ensure that coal on which such a rebate will be given will be actually be used this way. And, while it is unknown by just how much, certainly this would mean that the counties meager share of the coal severance tax would be reduced. And God only knows how badly so many of local programs are under-funded, anyway.
But the most damaging bit of bad news is the one that KFTC has brought forth, and that is the news that the diesel produced from coal is, in their words, a dirty fuel. It contains considerably more in the way of pollutants than regular diesel, pollutants that contribute to global warming, and additionally would result in a great expansion of the onerous practice of mountain top removal to produce more coal for this transformation.
It has been mentioned time and again, that this technology is not new. Nazi Germany, cut off from its normal sources of petroleum, used it to great effect during the Second World War. And, during the Arab oil embargo of the seventies, in the panic that was felt in the aftermath, this proposal was brought forth, only to be abandoned later as unworkable. So, again, and at risk of being the bearer of bad news, I would join with such notables as KFTC, and the staff of the Lexington Herald-Leader, whose editorial board has sided with those opposed to this idea, and advise the proponents of coal-to-diesel to look before you leap, and to make sure that you have a good landing area if you decide to go ahead with what will be, by any stretch of the imagination, a risky venture.
To A Mouse, On Turning Her Up In Her Nest, With The Plow Robert Burns
Whenever I hear of the latest talk out of Pikeville, where elected officials are falling all over themselves to be seen as supporters of the scheme that would turn coal into diesel, I can’t help but be reminded of the Biblical story from the second chapter of Daniel concerning the dream of the Babylonian King, Nebuchadnezzar, wherein he saw the great idol whose body was composed of fine metals. It was only the feet of the idol that was composed of common materials, potter’s clay and iron. It fell to the Hebrew, Daniel, to tell Nebuchadnezzar that these feet of clay would be the undoing of this statue, an allegory for his kingdom. This expression, feet of clay, has come to mean small details that will undo larger aims.
One can only imagine how Nebuchadnezzar felt when he saw the idol in his dreams; its head was made of gold, its chest and arms of silver, its lower body of brass, and legs of iron. Had these been the only things to consider, Nebuchadnezzar’s kingdom would have been secure. But there were those feet of clay. In the dream to make Pike County the leader in the nation’s drive for energy independence, being able to produce diesel from coal must loom as large as the statue in Nebuchadnezzar’s dream. What fine things this dream is composed of; the idealistic goal of lessening our dependence of what are, by any definition of the term, unstable sources of petroleum, the jobs that having such a plant built in Pike County would produce, and the resultant positive impact on the local economy. But like the great idol which Nebuchadnezzar saw, this dream, too, had its feet of clay, and, like Daniel of old, who played the part of the deliverer of bad news, someone must tell those modern day dreamers that, unless certain troubling aspects of such a project can be adequately addressed, this colossus may be similarly doomed.
I can’t imagine that Daniel was the most popular fellow in the kingdom after he delivered his interpretation of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream. But then, those with bad news are seldom made to feel welcome, especially when everyone has had their hopes raised. In this situation, playing the part of Daniel is the group, Kentuckians for the Commonwealth(KFTC). You remember, this is the group that former State Representative Howard Cornett-who momentarily confused them with the Appalshop people-called a bunch of old hippies. So here we are, all waiting for the good times to roll, when KFTC shows up, and points out the fact that the feet of this statue are, at least in its opinion, composed of the same clay that doomed the Babylonian kingdom. And I would bet that KFTC is just as popular in Pikeville as Daniel was in Babylon.
But if anything good is to come of the proposal to turn Kentucky coal into diesel, then all aspects of it must be examined up front. I do not mean to bring up any bad memories, but in the Tuesday, June 19, 2007 edition of the APEX that tells of the symposium whose aim it is to get the ball rolling, there is, ironically, an item that was meant to be included in the “Back in Time” feature about the fate of a similar proposal for the county from Judge Wayne Rutherford’s first administration, the so-called coal gasification plant. While, through regrettable oversight, this item was not printed in the body of this feature, the implication, nevertheless, is clear: Overlook any small detail here, and this project may meet a similar demise.
And one of the most troubling aspects is how to come up with the money for what will be a multibillion dollar price tag. Don’t think that a billion dollar plus price tag would, for a moment, deter private enterprise if this venture was worthwhile. A good deal more money is routinely invested when the cost can be recouped with a profit. But private enterprise is apparently not convinced of the cost-effectiveness of turning coal into diesel, as no private investor is waiting in the wings. And this is why the coal industry-with the encouragement of Kentucky’s junior senator, Jim Bunning, co-sponsor, oddly enough, with Illinois Senator, and Democratic presidential candidate, Barrack Obama of a bill to offer incentives for this proposal-is trying to secure financing from the taxpayer. But again, if private enterprise is unwilling to undertake this project on its own, why should the taxpayer be hit on?
And on the state level, we are told, in the same issue of the APEX that, among other incentives the state would offer the coal industry, is a rebate-or kickback, as my friend from high school, Squire Gregory Ward, insisted on calling it-of 80% of the coal severance tax when new coal is mined with an eye toward turning it into diesel. Nothing is mentioned on how we will ensure that coal on which such a rebate will be given will be actually be used this way. And, while it is unknown by just how much, certainly this would mean that the counties meager share of the coal severance tax would be reduced. And God only knows how badly so many of local programs are under-funded, anyway.
But the most damaging bit of bad news is the one that KFTC has brought forth, and that is the news that the diesel produced from coal is, in their words, a dirty fuel. It contains considerably more in the way of pollutants than regular diesel, pollutants that contribute to global warming, and additionally would result in a great expansion of the onerous practice of mountain top removal to produce more coal for this transformation.
It has been mentioned time and again, that this technology is not new. Nazi Germany, cut off from its normal sources of petroleum, used it to great effect during the Second World War. And, during the Arab oil embargo of the seventies, in the panic that was felt in the aftermath, this proposal was brought forth, only to be abandoned later as unworkable. So, again, and at risk of being the bearer of bad news, I would join with such notables as KFTC, and the staff of the Lexington Herald-Leader, whose editorial board has sided with those opposed to this idea, and advise the proponents of coal-to-diesel to look before you leap, and to make sure that you have a good landing area if you decide to go ahead with what will be, by any stretch of the imagination, a risky venture.
Native American shame
It becomes apparent to me that in order to elicit sensitivity from anyone, you must first prove to be insensitive in an area that directly affects them. For instance, those of us who live in this area think we have been portrayed unfairly by the national media in any number of ways, and this treatment always leaves an ocean of outrage in it’s wake.
Most recently, A & E did a hatchet job on Pikeville while reporting (?) on an infamous murder case, and does not seem to care about any erroneous impression it may have left with its national audience.
In times past, CBS did a report on a small community in Floyd County, where it put on display all the stereotypes used to depict mountain people.
And there was the little play written about Kentucky by a New Yorker called “The Kentucky Cycle”, about which the less said, the better. The fact is the author of this play had never been in the Bluegrass State when he penned his magnum opus, so we know this fellow is probably full of that substance which, when dropped from the business end of a bull, is good for fertilizing one’s garden.
(I have never been in New York, except for a few occasions, mostly at one of its airports while in the military, so it is my dream to write a “New York Cycle” version of this play, as I am obviously more qualified to write on the history of New Yorkers than my friend ever was to write about the people of Kentucky.)
I bring all of this up because on two separate occasions in the last little bit, I have seen sports writers bring up the situation involving Marquette University, and the gradual changing of its nickname from the original “Warriors” to the “Golden Eagles” and finally, in a fit of what, conscience?, it was suggested that the name become simply “Gold”.
In the first of these articles, the Lexington Herald-Leader’s John Clay took the more extreme position when he decided that not only was it ridiculous to consider re-revising the team’s name, it should never have been, according to the learned Mr. Clay, changed from the original “Warriors”.
In fact, Mr. Clay went on, there is nothing wrong with naming sports teams for “native Americans”, and the movement against such practices smacked to him of “political correctness”, even though Mr. Clay was being politically correct himself when he used the term “native American” and not “Indian”.
And, Mr. Clay concluded, he even liked the most hated of these nicknames, Redskins”, as in the “Washington Redskins”, overlooking the similarities between this word and another word once used widely in the south when referring to the slaves and the offspring of slaves, each of these words being equally hated by those they are meant to describe.
Bob Watkins, the syndicated Kentucky sports writer, when he waded into the fray, never really came down on one side or the other as to whether the use of these terms is acceptable or not, even though one suspects he is in favor of their use, otherwise he would never have used the terms “politically correct” and “liberals” when describing those in opposition to their use.
Of course, those who are the least likely to be offended by the use of such nicknames are also least likely to be a member of one of the groups being “honored” (John Clay’s word) thusly. It is likely more difficult to work up excitement for such teams if it was your ancestors who were dispossessed of land and culture, and deprived even of citizenship, for the longest time, in the same country that abetted these crimes, and which then helped to corral you on some of the poorest lands left, and for which those of European descent could find no use.
The saddest part of the whole thing is this, that that which once was representative of proud groups of people who existed on this continent for untold thousands of years, this history and culture, has been reduced to nothing more than poorly drawn caricatures for, and representing, now, of all things, a few (and in many cases, bad) sports teams.
And sadder still, is those people who so dishonor these Native peoples, can see nothing wrong with their actions.
Most recently, A & E did a hatchet job on Pikeville while reporting (?) on an infamous murder case, and does not seem to care about any erroneous impression it may have left with its national audience.
In times past, CBS did a report on a small community in Floyd County, where it put on display all the stereotypes used to depict mountain people.
And there was the little play written about Kentucky by a New Yorker called “The Kentucky Cycle”, about which the less said, the better. The fact is the author of this play had never been in the Bluegrass State when he penned his magnum opus, so we know this fellow is probably full of that substance which, when dropped from the business end of a bull, is good for fertilizing one’s garden.
(I have never been in New York, except for a few occasions, mostly at one of its airports while in the military, so it is my dream to write a “New York Cycle” version of this play, as I am obviously more qualified to write on the history of New Yorkers than my friend ever was to write about the people of Kentucky.)
I bring all of this up because on two separate occasions in the last little bit, I have seen sports writers bring up the situation involving Marquette University, and the gradual changing of its nickname from the original “Warriors” to the “Golden Eagles” and finally, in a fit of what, conscience?, it was suggested that the name become simply “Gold”.
In the first of these articles, the Lexington Herald-Leader’s John Clay took the more extreme position when he decided that not only was it ridiculous to consider re-revising the team’s name, it should never have been, according to the learned Mr. Clay, changed from the original “Warriors”.
In fact, Mr. Clay went on, there is nothing wrong with naming sports teams for “native Americans”, and the movement against such practices smacked to him of “political correctness”, even though Mr. Clay was being politically correct himself when he used the term “native American” and not “Indian”.
And, Mr. Clay concluded, he even liked the most hated of these nicknames, Redskins”, as in the “Washington Redskins”, overlooking the similarities between this word and another word once used widely in the south when referring to the slaves and the offspring of slaves, each of these words being equally hated by those they are meant to describe.
Bob Watkins, the syndicated Kentucky sports writer, when he waded into the fray, never really came down on one side or the other as to whether the use of these terms is acceptable or not, even though one suspects he is in favor of their use, otherwise he would never have used the terms “politically correct” and “liberals” when describing those in opposition to their use.
Of course, those who are the least likely to be offended by the use of such nicknames are also least likely to be a member of one of the groups being “honored” (John Clay’s word) thusly. It is likely more difficult to work up excitement for such teams if it was your ancestors who were dispossessed of land and culture, and deprived even of citizenship, for the longest time, in the same country that abetted these crimes, and which then helped to corral you on some of the poorest lands left, and for which those of European descent could find no use.
The saddest part of the whole thing is this, that that which once was representative of proud groups of people who existed on this continent for untold thousands of years, this history and culture, has been reduced to nothing more than poorly drawn caricatures for, and representing, now, of all things, a few (and in many cases, bad) sports teams.
And sadder still, is those people who so dishonor these Native peoples, can see nothing wrong with their actions.
GETTING FISCALLY FIT IN KENTUCKY: EXERCISES IN FUTILITY
When in trouble, when in doubt-Run in circles, scream and shout! Army maxim
Tuesday’s (March 25th) edition of the Appalachian News-Express featured a remarkable
series of stories that somehow all seemed to be related, all, coincidentally, close to my heart. These stories concerned the dire financial straits that the Commonwealth now finds itself in, for whatever reason, the machinations now under way by government officials designed to rectify the situation, the difference of opinions among those responsible for finalizing a state budget, including a wide disagreement on by just how much, or even whether, to raise the state cigarette tax, a plan from the Senate that would free those in state prisons convicted on drug offenses, and send them to treatment centers, and, for an added dose of irony, a story about a new tactic in the battle against cancer, that is, including the truly exorbitant costs for treatment as a “side effect” of this disease.
In the “Battle of the Budget”, there are as many sides and sidelines as a professional wrestling match would have. Even those elements that a normal, sane person would assume are natural allies, the Governor and the State House of Representatives, the former a Democrat and the latter controlled by Democrats, have somehow found ways to oppose each other. The one predictable scenario in the whole shebang is the State Senate. Under the control of Republican David Williams, it has its own priorities, and none of the jibe with anything the other two players want. All of which should lead the Commonwealth’s citizenry to wonder if this group will ever be able to hammer out a budget at all.
We are in these financial doldrums, thanks largely to the declining national economy. Like people with the flu in flu season, we are not alone in this. Most other states are also going through hard times. To combat this on a national level, to “jumpstart” the economy, so to speak, L’ll George and the Congress (sounds like a '70's rock group, don't it?) have directed the IRS to send out “stimulus payments” of from $300.00 to $600.00, depending on how many wage earners are in the household, I suppose. Presumably, the recipients of this “windfall” will go straight out and spend it all, thus the verb “jumpstart” and the adjective, or noun, or whatever “stimulus”.
A story on CNN, however, is questioning just how much good this will actually do for the economy. I suspect that if any one segment of the economy will be enriched by it, it will be the oil companies. (Surprise! Surprise!) I, for one, will cash my $300.00 check, then go straight to a gas station, where I hope it will be enough to fill up my tank.
But I digress. To the Democratic elements in this melodrama: Democratic Governor Steve Beshear has a two-pronged approach to getting a budget out with sufficient revenue. His first approach was to ask the State Assembly for a 70-cent increase in the cigarette tax. Secondly, he wants to amend the state constitution to allow gambling. He seems to be failing in both endeavors. For its part, the Democratic-controlled House will support only a 25-cent increase on cigarettes. And the Republican-controlled Senate will suffer no increase on our state fruit, and neither the House nor the Senate seem eager to come up with any amendments to put before the voter regarding anything like gambling.
The Governor and I are of like minds when it comes to increasing the tax on Kentucky’s favorite consumable: It must be at least 70 cents. A 25 cent increase will be easily offset by the tobacco companies, which will make it completely ineffective. It will not provide the state with anything like an adequate increase in revenue, and it will have a minimal effect on the number of smokers in the state. This will guarantee that teen-agers will continue to take up the habit en masse, and this in turn will see more teen-agers turn to illegal drug use, cigarettes being a very effective gateway drug, and this insures a more-than-adequate supply of potential state prisoners, then inhabitants of the various halfway houses around Kentucky. Too, with as many people as ever smoking, the crises in Medicaid funding will continue to be a conundrum for state governments for many years to come. And, of course, that ties in with the prospect of telling cancer victims that perhaps that treatment they were counting on to give them a little additional life, might be just a “little too rich” for their blood.
But as for the prospect of bringing gambling to the state, I have long been opposed to the idea. No gambling establishment anywhere has ever been, uh, established, with the idea of enriching anyone but the owners of the, uh, establishment. I must say that I would reconsider my vote on this topic, however, but only under one condition: If the gamblers are allowed to go into the casinos, play black jack and count cards while doing so, I will vote for this controversial amendment. I foresee a situation wherein I would buy that VCR tape I saw in The Pawn Shop (that’s its name, so far as I know) on Russell Street in Elkhorn City, learn this system inside and out, then go into a casino downstate somewhere with a five dollar bill, and emerge many hours later a comparatively wealthy man. Of course this ain’t gonna happen. So, guess what? They ain’t gonna get my vote! (Hah! In the words of a slightly drunk Barney Fife-“Put that in your smipe and poke it!”)
So it looks as though it will be business as usual for the foreseeable future here in the Bluegrass State. The Commonwealth of Kentucky will continue to stagger from crises to crises in every conceivable area of state government. It would be wise, for instance, for the state to put the brakes on its addiction to subsidizing tobacco. Tobacco, after all, is responsible for many of our ills. Too, it repays our largess by killing off many of our citizens, but not before their medical treatment bankrupts Medicaid. One speaker said that the cost of tobacco is like a 600 dollar per year tax on every individual in Kentucky. And if that is the case, then that $600 dollar stimulus payment will be spent before anyone here even gets it. Another good idea shot straight to h-e-double hockey sticks.
Oh, well! Back to the drawing board.
Tuesday’s (March 25th) edition of the Appalachian News-Express featured a remarkable
series of stories that somehow all seemed to be related, all, coincidentally, close to my heart. These stories concerned the dire financial straits that the Commonwealth now finds itself in, for whatever reason, the machinations now under way by government officials designed to rectify the situation, the difference of opinions among those responsible for finalizing a state budget, including a wide disagreement on by just how much, or even whether, to raise the state cigarette tax, a plan from the Senate that would free those in state prisons convicted on drug offenses, and send them to treatment centers, and, for an added dose of irony, a story about a new tactic in the battle against cancer, that is, including the truly exorbitant costs for treatment as a “side effect” of this disease.
In the “Battle of the Budget”, there are as many sides and sidelines as a professional wrestling match would have. Even those elements that a normal, sane person would assume are natural allies, the Governor and the State House of Representatives, the former a Democrat and the latter controlled by Democrats, have somehow found ways to oppose each other. The one predictable scenario in the whole shebang is the State Senate. Under the control of Republican David Williams, it has its own priorities, and none of the jibe with anything the other two players want. All of which should lead the Commonwealth’s citizenry to wonder if this group will ever be able to hammer out a budget at all.
We are in these financial doldrums, thanks largely to the declining national economy. Like people with the flu in flu season, we are not alone in this. Most other states are also going through hard times. To combat this on a national level, to “jumpstart” the economy, so to speak, L’ll George and the Congress (sounds like a '70's rock group, don't it?) have directed the IRS to send out “stimulus payments” of from $300.00 to $600.00, depending on how many wage earners are in the household, I suppose. Presumably, the recipients of this “windfall” will go straight out and spend it all, thus the verb “jumpstart” and the adjective, or noun, or whatever “stimulus”.
A story on CNN, however, is questioning just how much good this will actually do for the economy. I suspect that if any one segment of the economy will be enriched by it, it will be the oil companies. (Surprise! Surprise!) I, for one, will cash my $300.00 check, then go straight to a gas station, where I hope it will be enough to fill up my tank.
But I digress. To the Democratic elements in this melodrama: Democratic Governor Steve Beshear has a two-pronged approach to getting a budget out with sufficient revenue. His first approach was to ask the State Assembly for a 70-cent increase in the cigarette tax. Secondly, he wants to amend the state constitution to allow gambling. He seems to be failing in both endeavors. For its part, the Democratic-controlled House will support only a 25-cent increase on cigarettes. And the Republican-controlled Senate will suffer no increase on our state fruit, and neither the House nor the Senate seem eager to come up with any amendments to put before the voter regarding anything like gambling.
The Governor and I are of like minds when it comes to increasing the tax on Kentucky’s favorite consumable: It must be at least 70 cents. A 25 cent increase will be easily offset by the tobacco companies, which will make it completely ineffective. It will not provide the state with anything like an adequate increase in revenue, and it will have a minimal effect on the number of smokers in the state. This will guarantee that teen-agers will continue to take up the habit en masse, and this in turn will see more teen-agers turn to illegal drug use, cigarettes being a very effective gateway drug, and this insures a more-than-adequate supply of potential state prisoners, then inhabitants of the various halfway houses around Kentucky. Too, with as many people as ever smoking, the crises in Medicaid funding will continue to be a conundrum for state governments for many years to come. And, of course, that ties in with the prospect of telling cancer victims that perhaps that treatment they were counting on to give them a little additional life, might be just a “little too rich” for their blood.
But as for the prospect of bringing gambling to the state, I have long been opposed to the idea. No gambling establishment anywhere has ever been, uh, established, with the idea of enriching anyone but the owners of the, uh, establishment. I must say that I would reconsider my vote on this topic, however, but only under one condition: If the gamblers are allowed to go into the casinos, play black jack and count cards while doing so, I will vote for this controversial amendment. I foresee a situation wherein I would buy that VCR tape I saw in The Pawn Shop (that’s its name, so far as I know) on Russell Street in Elkhorn City, learn this system inside and out, then go into a casino downstate somewhere with a five dollar bill, and emerge many hours later a comparatively wealthy man. Of course this ain’t gonna happen. So, guess what? They ain’t gonna get my vote! (Hah! In the words of a slightly drunk Barney Fife-“Put that in your smipe and poke it!”)
So it looks as though it will be business as usual for the foreseeable future here in the Bluegrass State. The Commonwealth of Kentucky will continue to stagger from crises to crises in every conceivable area of state government. It would be wise, for instance, for the state to put the brakes on its addiction to subsidizing tobacco. Tobacco, after all, is responsible for many of our ills. Too, it repays our largess by killing off many of our citizens, but not before their medical treatment bankrupts Medicaid. One speaker said that the cost of tobacco is like a 600 dollar per year tax on every individual in Kentucky. And if that is the case, then that $600 dollar stimulus payment will be spent before anyone here even gets it. Another good idea shot straight to h-e-double hockey sticks.
Oh, well! Back to the drawing board.
Fire department woes
The story in Sunday’s edition of the News Express concerning the six fire departments in our area that are getting federal grant money is good news, indeed. There are few jobs as difficult as the one running a rural fire department, but when you find yourself constantly in need of funds, the job is made exponentially more difficult.
I am not at all surprised to see that several departments are using these funds to purchase new trucks. The fire truck is, after all, the most important tool in the department’s arsenal, and I’d bet that many departments are in the same boat as the one here at Feds Creek, in that their fire-fighting apparatuses are getting a bit long in the tooth, to say the least. Feds Creek’s main pumper is a 1978 model Chevrolet, and its back up is a 1978 GMC tanker.
If you want to know how much area departments are hamstrung by these older pieces of equipment, compare any 1978 car or truck to their newer counterparts, and you will see how far technology has advanced in the interim. The same thing is true of fire trucks, and anything newer would see a vast improvement in the fire protection that the departments could offer this area.
There is a Kentucky law on the books that allow fire departments to establish a subscription fee for their service areas. This fee, payable once a year, is usually $25.00 for residences, and $50.00 for businesses. The only hang-up is that the fee is not a mandatory one, like the property tax that is also widely ignored in this county, so that most departments that have instituted this fee still find themselves short of funds.
The need for fire protection, alas, is lost on most people unless it is their home that is burning. Thus the fire services are often neglected. Of course, the fee system mentioned above is an absolute bargain if the return is viable fire protection, yet many find even this pittance too much to pay, but there is a way to help fund these departments to the fullest extent possible.
Instead of the afore-mentioned subscription fee, if some well-meaning legislator from our area would propose a bill that would set a fee of $2.50 per month ($5.00 for businesses) to be added to electric bills, and then passed on to the area fire departments, no local department would have to depend on the odd federal grant to keep its financial house in order. Plus there would be the added incentive for area residents to attend each fire department’s monthly meetings to see how their contribution is used.
Speaking of another bane to our existence, there is the little matter of those rapidly rising gas prices. There is very little one can do about them, because, no matter what, you still need to drive in order to get anything done anymore.
But this does not mean that you are altogether powerless when it comes to buying three dollar a gallon motion lotion. And I have found one area where I was able to completely stop buying gas, and yet still do the job that I had been doing beforehand. I speak of the job of keeping my lawn cut.
This year, after having killed yet another power mower, I decided that I’d had enough of pulling cords, changing oil, yadda, yadda, yadda, so when the time came for me to buy a new mower, I invested in a push model. And no, this isn’t your Grandpa’s lawn mower. For those of you who will inquire, you’ll find that the push mower has entered the 21st century, with a whole litany of improvements over the older, heavier push models some of us old-timers once played with, or had inflicted on us, many moons ago.
I purchased my new mower from Sears, where I had those good people order a Craftsman that I found, much to my delight, to be lightweight, and easy to operate. In fact, with my small lawn (these mowers are better suited for smaller lawns) I can actually mow my grass quicker than with my heavier, more cumbersome power mower.
So for those of you who would like to draw the line somewhere, and if your lawn is sufficiently small, consider one of these throwbacks. What with gas approaching $3.00 a gallon, and with every possibility that it will make it there, this purchase could very well pay for itself…well, before you know it.
I am not at all surprised to see that several departments are using these funds to purchase new trucks. The fire truck is, after all, the most important tool in the department’s arsenal, and I’d bet that many departments are in the same boat as the one here at Feds Creek, in that their fire-fighting apparatuses are getting a bit long in the tooth, to say the least. Feds Creek’s main pumper is a 1978 model Chevrolet, and its back up is a 1978 GMC tanker.
If you want to know how much area departments are hamstrung by these older pieces of equipment, compare any 1978 car or truck to their newer counterparts, and you will see how far technology has advanced in the interim. The same thing is true of fire trucks, and anything newer would see a vast improvement in the fire protection that the departments could offer this area.
There is a Kentucky law on the books that allow fire departments to establish a subscription fee for their service areas. This fee, payable once a year, is usually $25.00 for residences, and $50.00 for businesses. The only hang-up is that the fee is not a mandatory one, like the property tax that is also widely ignored in this county, so that most departments that have instituted this fee still find themselves short of funds.
The need for fire protection, alas, is lost on most people unless it is their home that is burning. Thus the fire services are often neglected. Of course, the fee system mentioned above is an absolute bargain if the return is viable fire protection, yet many find even this pittance too much to pay, but there is a way to help fund these departments to the fullest extent possible.
Instead of the afore-mentioned subscription fee, if some well-meaning legislator from our area would propose a bill that would set a fee of $2.50 per month ($5.00 for businesses) to be added to electric bills, and then passed on to the area fire departments, no local department would have to depend on the odd federal grant to keep its financial house in order. Plus there would be the added incentive for area residents to attend each fire department’s monthly meetings to see how their contribution is used.
Speaking of another bane to our existence, there is the little matter of those rapidly rising gas prices. There is very little one can do about them, because, no matter what, you still need to drive in order to get anything done anymore.
But this does not mean that you are altogether powerless when it comes to buying three dollar a gallon motion lotion. And I have found one area where I was able to completely stop buying gas, and yet still do the job that I had been doing beforehand. I speak of the job of keeping my lawn cut.
This year, after having killed yet another power mower, I decided that I’d had enough of pulling cords, changing oil, yadda, yadda, yadda, so when the time came for me to buy a new mower, I invested in a push model. And no, this isn’t your Grandpa’s lawn mower. For those of you who will inquire, you’ll find that the push mower has entered the 21st century, with a whole litany of improvements over the older, heavier push models some of us old-timers once played with, or had inflicted on us, many moons ago.
I purchased my new mower from Sears, where I had those good people order a Craftsman that I found, much to my delight, to be lightweight, and easy to operate. In fact, with my small lawn (these mowers are better suited for smaller lawns) I can actually mow my grass quicker than with my heavier, more cumbersome power mower.
So for those of you who would like to draw the line somewhere, and if your lawn is sufficiently small, consider one of these throwbacks. What with gas approaching $3.00 a gallon, and with every possibility that it will make it there, this purchase could very well pay for itself…well, before you know it.
Finding the good in good Samaritans
Being good is commendable, but only when it is combined with doing good is it useful. ~Author Unknown
Of all the parables in the New Testament, the one concerning the Good Samaritan seems, at times, to hit home the closest. You remember the story, told in Luke, chapter 10, about a poor unfortunate who is robbed and left for dead. Bypassed by a priest and a Levite, the man is eventually helped by a Samaritan, a member of a society that normally did not interact with those of the Jewish religion. The Samaritan takes the wounded man to an inn, and even pays for his care. Jesus explains that though the Priest and the Levite were of the same nationality and religion as the wounded man, it was the Samaritan that was his neighbor, as it was he who, through his actions, saved the man’s life.
There are many times in our lives when we are in the same situation as that individual who was befriended by the Good Samaritan. Many times when we are sick and unable to help ourselves, we find ourselves literally at the mercy of those, whom we may not know, whose job it is to assist us. Even when it is not us who is in need of medical help, but a loved one, and we are unable to render the necessary assistance ourselves, we are in need as much as the ones who are sick. It is then that it is a comfort to find the Good Samaritans among us, and once these individuals come forth and render this assistance, we appreciate this parable even more. And it is after such assistance has been given that these Good Samaritans should be identified, and thanked.
And this is what I wish to do now. No, I was not in need of medical help, myself. Rather, it was my mother, who, since the initial onset of this condition in 2001 (coincidentally, just before the 9/11 attacks), has been subject to mild seizures. She has been, since that time, on the medication, Dilantin, to control them, and, until very recently, had had no recurrence of them. But all that ended very suddenly, it seemed, on the third of this month. It was then that I first noticed the erratic behavior that accompanies such seizures, and so, late in the evening on that day, I was obliged to call the Elkhorn City Ambulance to transport her to the Pikeville Medical Center (PMC). And it was the crew that came out that was the first of the many Good Samaritans I would meet before our ordeal was ended.
This crew-and I am sorry, but I did not get both their names (one was a former student of mine, Patricia Chaffins, now working on becoming a paramedic)-came, and reassured my mother, who was somewhat distraught at this point, needless to say, that everything was going to be fine. They got her to the hospital with all due dispatch, and Patricia even came into the emergency room later to check up on her. It was due to their timely response, and gentle care that I was able to stay behind a bit, and to pack a bag with everything Mom would need for the anticipated stay at PMC, and also to notify such of my siblings as I was able to reach, of my decision to have Mom hospitalized.
Of course, getting the patient into an ambulance and on their way to the hospital is only the beginning. Everything seems to go at its own pace in an emergency room. Even when you have been seen, and are under the care of the ER doctor, the general rule seems to be, all in good time. And this time was no exception. I had witnessed the erratic behavior, and not an actual seizure, and I could only describe, in general terms, why I had decided to bring Mom to the ER. And until tests were done, and examinations completed, no diagnosis could be made, and no treatment administered. And all this does take time. And between tests and examinations and whatnot, time hangs heavy on your hands. And it was here that the staff in the ER showed their concern simply by being there for the family. Sometimes, a little reassurance at the right time is the proper medicine.
It was some five hours into the ordeal, and a new MD had come on duty, a Doctor Bunch (I believe that name is correct) when Mom first had a seizure that the ER personnel could witness. By that time, results from the second blood test had come back, and they showed that, among other things, Mom’s Dilantin level was low. Dr. Bunch, having witnessed a couple of her seizures, correctly assessed the situation, and again reassured us that what we were seeing was not stroke-related, and that Mom would be okay.
To make a long story short, Mom was hospitalized, and once in her room on the seventh floor, again had several mild seizures that were witnessed by more of the hospital’s staff. By early evening of her first day there, Mom was seen by the Doctor who has been treating her since the onset of this condition, Dr. Sujata Gutti, a Board Certified Neurologist, who also witnessed a seizure (Mom’s fourth on this day), and who quickly prescribed a new medication, Keppra, to be taken with the Dilantin. Not only did the first dose of the new medication put an end to her seizures, it also put Mom out of it literally, and she slept quite soundly for the rest of that night. And Mom has been improving on a daily basis since, and is rapidly getting back to her old self.
But to those nurses and other assorted hospital personnel who were there anytime Mom or any of her family needed anything, we cannot say “Thank you” nearly enough. Whenever a nurse was needed, one appeared quickly, and helped out with a smile. The food that was provided for her was appetizing, and as good as any home-made meal anyone has ever served. Whenever the family was at the hospital, we were treated as nicely as anyone could ever expect to be treated, and when we were not there, we always knew that she was in the best of hands, and that we need not be concerned for her. And in the end, that is the true value of the Good Samaritans of this world, the trust that we can repose in them for the care of our loved ones who cannot help themselves.
Of all the parables in the New Testament, the one concerning the Good Samaritan seems, at times, to hit home the closest. You remember the story, told in Luke, chapter 10, about a poor unfortunate who is robbed and left for dead. Bypassed by a priest and a Levite, the man is eventually helped by a Samaritan, a member of a society that normally did not interact with those of the Jewish religion. The Samaritan takes the wounded man to an inn, and even pays for his care. Jesus explains that though the Priest and the Levite were of the same nationality and religion as the wounded man, it was the Samaritan that was his neighbor, as it was he who, through his actions, saved the man’s life.
There are many times in our lives when we are in the same situation as that individual who was befriended by the Good Samaritan. Many times when we are sick and unable to help ourselves, we find ourselves literally at the mercy of those, whom we may not know, whose job it is to assist us. Even when it is not us who is in need of medical help, but a loved one, and we are unable to render the necessary assistance ourselves, we are in need as much as the ones who are sick. It is then that it is a comfort to find the Good Samaritans among us, and once these individuals come forth and render this assistance, we appreciate this parable even more. And it is after such assistance has been given that these Good Samaritans should be identified, and thanked.
And this is what I wish to do now. No, I was not in need of medical help, myself. Rather, it was my mother, who, since the initial onset of this condition in 2001 (coincidentally, just before the 9/11 attacks), has been subject to mild seizures. She has been, since that time, on the medication, Dilantin, to control them, and, until very recently, had had no recurrence of them. But all that ended very suddenly, it seemed, on the third of this month. It was then that I first noticed the erratic behavior that accompanies such seizures, and so, late in the evening on that day, I was obliged to call the Elkhorn City Ambulance to transport her to the Pikeville Medical Center (PMC). And it was the crew that came out that was the first of the many Good Samaritans I would meet before our ordeal was ended.
This crew-and I am sorry, but I did not get both their names (one was a former student of mine, Patricia Chaffins, now working on becoming a paramedic)-came, and reassured my mother, who was somewhat distraught at this point, needless to say, that everything was going to be fine. They got her to the hospital with all due dispatch, and Patricia even came into the emergency room later to check up on her. It was due to their timely response, and gentle care that I was able to stay behind a bit, and to pack a bag with everything Mom would need for the anticipated stay at PMC, and also to notify such of my siblings as I was able to reach, of my decision to have Mom hospitalized.
Of course, getting the patient into an ambulance and on their way to the hospital is only the beginning. Everything seems to go at its own pace in an emergency room. Even when you have been seen, and are under the care of the ER doctor, the general rule seems to be, all in good time. And this time was no exception. I had witnessed the erratic behavior, and not an actual seizure, and I could only describe, in general terms, why I had decided to bring Mom to the ER. And until tests were done, and examinations completed, no diagnosis could be made, and no treatment administered. And all this does take time. And between tests and examinations and whatnot, time hangs heavy on your hands. And it was here that the staff in the ER showed their concern simply by being there for the family. Sometimes, a little reassurance at the right time is the proper medicine.
It was some five hours into the ordeal, and a new MD had come on duty, a Doctor Bunch (I believe that name is correct) when Mom first had a seizure that the ER personnel could witness. By that time, results from the second blood test had come back, and they showed that, among other things, Mom’s Dilantin level was low. Dr. Bunch, having witnessed a couple of her seizures, correctly assessed the situation, and again reassured us that what we were seeing was not stroke-related, and that Mom would be okay.
To make a long story short, Mom was hospitalized, and once in her room on the seventh floor, again had several mild seizures that were witnessed by more of the hospital’s staff. By early evening of her first day there, Mom was seen by the Doctor who has been treating her since the onset of this condition, Dr. Sujata Gutti, a Board Certified Neurologist, who also witnessed a seizure (Mom’s fourth on this day), and who quickly prescribed a new medication, Keppra, to be taken with the Dilantin. Not only did the first dose of the new medication put an end to her seizures, it also put Mom out of it literally, and she slept quite soundly for the rest of that night. And Mom has been improving on a daily basis since, and is rapidly getting back to her old self.
But to those nurses and other assorted hospital personnel who were there anytime Mom or any of her family needed anything, we cannot say “Thank you” nearly enough. Whenever a nurse was needed, one appeared quickly, and helped out with a smile. The food that was provided for her was appetizing, and as good as any home-made meal anyone has ever served. Whenever the family was at the hospital, we were treated as nicely as anyone could ever expect to be treated, and when we were not there, we always knew that she was in the best of hands, and that we need not be concerned for her. And in the end, that is the true value of the Good Samaritans of this world, the trust that we can repose in them for the care of our loved ones who cannot help themselves.
Ferris Bush is way off
It’s a safe bet that Ferris Bueller never had a day off like this, nor did Bill or Ted ever have such an excellent adventure. A 16-year-old, Farris Hassan, from Florida, aided by a preternatural intelligence and a curiosity fueled by a high school journalism class, made his way to the war-torn country of Iraq to see for himself what life was like there
This is hardly the place for an unwary American tourist, though. Remember that American citizens have been prime targets for kidnappers looking to influence American policy towards Iraq. Approximately 40 citizens have been kidnapped so far; ten of these have been executed, and fifteen remain missing.
Still, our intrepid hero made the trip safely, and is back in the States, where he is presumably awaiting either a hug and a kiss from his worried parents, or a swift kick, to be delivered in the middle of his, uh, reunion with his family.
There are those of us who think that a parent really ought to have a better idea of where a 16-year-old is, and what he is doing, even if he is a genius. And certainly, caring parents would be quick to advise such a youngster that he must never make such a rash and impetuous decision without consulting others who may know better than him. And had Farris thought a bit, I’m sure he’d have asked an older family member or acquaintance, such as a teacher, and so not have exposed himself to the risks of such a trip.
And yet he may have been influenced by the actions of an older, considerably less-bright fellow who made a similar mistake. This fellow wanted to go into Iraq, and he went, despite well-thought out arguments against such a move delivered by those who had only his welfare in mind. Instead of listening to those who counseled against such a move, this fellow made fun of them, and he and his cohorts who were all for the Iraqi adventure, sought to make pariahs of his detractors.
And pariahs they became. Anyone who expressed an opinion contrary to what this fellow wanted to do quickly found out how vicious he could be when he was crossed. This included old family friends, associates of his father, or simply well-meaning individuals, or even whole groups who had been, at one time, very helpful in aiding causes undertaken by his family.
Sadly, this fellow was not as lucky as Farris. But if he had been willing to listen to those who advised against this incursion, a good deal of agony and expense might have been avoided.
The fellow I’m speaking of is President George W. Bush, a man who was going to go to war in Iraq no matter what. He and his group of neo-con advisers had their mind made up from the beginning of his administration, well in advance of 9/11 to do so, and after 9/11, their resolve only strengthened. There was never any indication that the Iraqis were responsible for this attack on the U. S., a fact that the President, after countless denials, has finally admitted. Yet he continues to defend this reckless bit of foreign policy by referring to the war on terrorism, the 9/11 attacks and the Iraqi war in the same breath.
Colin Powell, one-time chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the President’s first Secretary of State advised against such a move. Brent Scowcroft, adviser to the first President Bush came out against the idea of going to war in Iraq. These gentlemen’s credentials in such areas are impeccable, yet this did not dissuade the President.
Neither did the actions of his father as President, who stopped his war after it had achieved its aims, knowing as he did that unseating the government in Iraq could lead to the civil war the country is now spiraling towards.
And when the French, whose military was an integral part of the first Iraqi war, also came out against the new war, the neo-cons quickly began to trash the reputation of the country that helped the U. S. to gain is independence, a country against which we have never had to go to war, and a country that presented us with one of our most cherished national possessions, the Statue of Liberty.
No, the President, like Farris Hassan, had his mind made up. The President has blamed, as of late, faulty intelligence as a reason why he chose to go war, but it wasn’t the intelligence services as much as it was his own intelligence that was lacking. Unlike Farris, however, who did not go to those who could have told him better, the President does not have that consolation, and as a result, he, and the rest of the nation, are left hoping that this rash gamble of his will pay off in the end, all the while having no guarantee at all that it will.
This is hardly the place for an unwary American tourist, though. Remember that American citizens have been prime targets for kidnappers looking to influence American policy towards Iraq. Approximately 40 citizens have been kidnapped so far; ten of these have been executed, and fifteen remain missing.
Still, our intrepid hero made the trip safely, and is back in the States, where he is presumably awaiting either a hug and a kiss from his worried parents, or a swift kick, to be delivered in the middle of his, uh, reunion with his family.
There are those of us who think that a parent really ought to have a better idea of where a 16-year-old is, and what he is doing, even if he is a genius. And certainly, caring parents would be quick to advise such a youngster that he must never make such a rash and impetuous decision without consulting others who may know better than him. And had Farris thought a bit, I’m sure he’d have asked an older family member or acquaintance, such as a teacher, and so not have exposed himself to the risks of such a trip.
And yet he may have been influenced by the actions of an older, considerably less-bright fellow who made a similar mistake. This fellow wanted to go into Iraq, and he went, despite well-thought out arguments against such a move delivered by those who had only his welfare in mind. Instead of listening to those who counseled against such a move, this fellow made fun of them, and he and his cohorts who were all for the Iraqi adventure, sought to make pariahs of his detractors.
And pariahs they became. Anyone who expressed an opinion contrary to what this fellow wanted to do quickly found out how vicious he could be when he was crossed. This included old family friends, associates of his father, or simply well-meaning individuals, or even whole groups who had been, at one time, very helpful in aiding causes undertaken by his family.
Sadly, this fellow was not as lucky as Farris. But if he had been willing to listen to those who advised against this incursion, a good deal of agony and expense might have been avoided.
The fellow I’m speaking of is President George W. Bush, a man who was going to go to war in Iraq no matter what. He and his group of neo-con advisers had their mind made up from the beginning of his administration, well in advance of 9/11 to do so, and after 9/11, their resolve only strengthened. There was never any indication that the Iraqis were responsible for this attack on the U. S., a fact that the President, after countless denials, has finally admitted. Yet he continues to defend this reckless bit of foreign policy by referring to the war on terrorism, the 9/11 attacks and the Iraqi war in the same breath.
Colin Powell, one-time chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the President’s first Secretary of State advised against such a move. Brent Scowcroft, adviser to the first President Bush came out against the idea of going to war in Iraq. These gentlemen’s credentials in such areas are impeccable, yet this did not dissuade the President.
Neither did the actions of his father as President, who stopped his war after it had achieved its aims, knowing as he did that unseating the government in Iraq could lead to the civil war the country is now spiraling towards.
And when the French, whose military was an integral part of the first Iraqi war, also came out against the new war, the neo-cons quickly began to trash the reputation of the country that helped the U. S. to gain is independence, a country against which we have never had to go to war, and a country that presented us with one of our most cherished national possessions, the Statue of Liberty.
No, the President, like Farris Hassan, had his mind made up. The President has blamed, as of late, faulty intelligence as a reason why he chose to go war, but it wasn’t the intelligence services as much as it was his own intelligence that was lacking. Unlike Farris, however, who did not go to those who could have told him better, the President does not have that consolation, and as a result, he, and the rest of the nation, are left hoping that this rash gamble of his will pay off in the end, all the while having no guarantee at all that it will.
Brave new world?
Fear has never played a very big role in my life, but perhaps that is because I have had the good fortune to have come of age in the U. S. in a time when good fortunes have abounded. For the most part, since the end of the Second World War, Americans have not known want. Yes, poverty has always been a part of the national experience, but overall that poverty has been limited in scope, and we have had, by the grace of God, the resources to help alleviate it somewhat, if not eliminate it.
That is not to say that there wasn’t a time when poverty or want wasn’t a good deal more widespread. Those Americans born in the early part of the 20th century could tell some harrowing tales, indeed. Like most of my generation, I was made aware of “The Great Depression” at a very early age. It was this event that shaped the outlook of our parents, and made them who they were.
But for my generation, the so-called Baby Boomers, life has been, if not a bed of roses, at least a good deal easier than it ever was for those who came before us. Thanks to the sacrifices of that generation that outlasted both the Great Depression and World War Two, our lives have always had what seemed like unlimited potential.
Yes, perhaps it was because the U. S., unlike so many of the other developed nations of the world, came through World War Two virtually unscathed. Outside of the attack on Pearl Harbor, and the brief occupation of a remote Aleutian Island by the Japanese, America was largely spared the scourge of war. And, as we geared up to help defeat the Axis powers, our industry became the envy of the world, and it was this that led to an opulent lifestyle to which we have all grown accustomed.
Unfortunately, time has wrought certain changes for our nation. Today, where symbols of our industrial might once stood, we have, in their place, the so-called rust belt. Our domestic steel industry has long ceased to be threat to any one, and the domestic car makers are following in steel’s footsteps. Toyota will soon become the world’s largest automobile manufacturer. G M just did manage to hold on to that title last year, though it lost billions of dollars while doing so. Ford, for its part, is no longer even the number two car maker in the U. S., having lost that title to the same corporation that is pressing G M. And if anyone is aware of what is going on at Chrysler, they are not letting on.
Seven years after what seemed to be the Golden Age of the U. S., at the end of the Clinton presidency, when the Republicans and Democrats worked together to eliminate an era of deficit spending by the federal government, and where some were even forecasting a time when the national debt would be paid off, all those gains have been seemingly been lost. The federal government is once again deep in a sea of red ink, and the national debt is growing at rate once not thought possible.
Okay, the Reagan administration first introduced us to what we then thought was wholesale deficit spending. Reagan’s deficits were, at the time, records. His economic policies, continued by his successor, President George H. W. Bush, led to deficits that were, at the time, considered astronomical. As one pundit put it, in the 1992 presidential campaign between the elder Bush and Clinton, “Considering the size of the deficits, I feel sorry for whoever gets the job”. As has already been noted, during the coalition style government from 1994-2000, where the GOP had control of Congress, and Democrat Clinton the presidency, common sense took control, and the economy showed that.
But when George “Dubya” took over, and had, as a bonus, control of Congress, common sense seems to have taken leave of D. C. as well. Considering Dubya’s economic policies-Reaganomics on steroids-and his insistence on the Iraqi war that has cost to date some $750 billion, and his laissez-faire style of governing that refuses to intervene in anything he thinks is the purview of the free market, well, it is now that fear begins to creep into my life. Fear, as in, fear of Great Depression-like conditions, that fear that kept control of my parents lives. Everyday, the price of oil increases, and the price of gasoline increases, and the price of everything else increases.
All of this is a nightmare. I am reminded of a friend who had an old-style Caddy during the oil crisis of the late ‘70’s. It would, he said, pass anything but a gas station. I am now afraid to drive past a gas station. I was dubious when forecasters first said four bucks a gallon by summer. Now I am hoping it stops there. And God help us if a major hurricane hits the Gulf coast this year. I am sure we all remember the consequences of Katrina and her friends a few short years back. That was when gasoline first got to the unheard of price of three bucks a gallon. Can you imagine the potential sticker shock if the girls come back this year?
More than anything else, I am afraid to go the supermarkets, now. I cannot tell you how unnerving it is to see the prices for the little amount of food I am able to take out. It is literally getting to the point where, if you have enough money to fill up your tank for a trip to the supermarket, you may not have enough to buy anything when you get there. And the problem isn’t stopping there. The price of food is skyrocketing worldwide, with poor nations bearing the brunt of the resulting food shortages.
More than anything, I am afraid that this problem may have gotten out of control. What if we can’t make this thing right, now? For the first time in my life, thanks to Dubya, I now understand what it was that kept my parents up at night, and I am hoping against hope that the nation will be able to respond as they once responded, and overcome the difficulties we now find ourselves in.
That is not to say that there wasn’t a time when poverty or want wasn’t a good deal more widespread. Those Americans born in the early part of the 20th century could tell some harrowing tales, indeed. Like most of my generation, I was made aware of “The Great Depression” at a very early age. It was this event that shaped the outlook of our parents, and made them who they were.
But for my generation, the so-called Baby Boomers, life has been, if not a bed of roses, at least a good deal easier than it ever was for those who came before us. Thanks to the sacrifices of that generation that outlasted both the Great Depression and World War Two, our lives have always had what seemed like unlimited potential.
Yes, perhaps it was because the U. S., unlike so many of the other developed nations of the world, came through World War Two virtually unscathed. Outside of the attack on Pearl Harbor, and the brief occupation of a remote Aleutian Island by the Japanese, America was largely spared the scourge of war. And, as we geared up to help defeat the Axis powers, our industry became the envy of the world, and it was this that led to an opulent lifestyle to which we have all grown accustomed.
Unfortunately, time has wrought certain changes for our nation. Today, where symbols of our industrial might once stood, we have, in their place, the so-called rust belt. Our domestic steel industry has long ceased to be threat to any one, and the domestic car makers are following in steel’s footsteps. Toyota will soon become the world’s largest automobile manufacturer. G M just did manage to hold on to that title last year, though it lost billions of dollars while doing so. Ford, for its part, is no longer even the number two car maker in the U. S., having lost that title to the same corporation that is pressing G M. And if anyone is aware of what is going on at Chrysler, they are not letting on.
Seven years after what seemed to be the Golden Age of the U. S., at the end of the Clinton presidency, when the Republicans and Democrats worked together to eliminate an era of deficit spending by the federal government, and where some were even forecasting a time when the national debt would be paid off, all those gains have been seemingly been lost. The federal government is once again deep in a sea of red ink, and the national debt is growing at rate once not thought possible.
Okay, the Reagan administration first introduced us to what we then thought was wholesale deficit spending. Reagan’s deficits were, at the time, records. His economic policies, continued by his successor, President George H. W. Bush, led to deficits that were, at the time, considered astronomical. As one pundit put it, in the 1992 presidential campaign between the elder Bush and Clinton, “Considering the size of the deficits, I feel sorry for whoever gets the job”. As has already been noted, during the coalition style government from 1994-2000, where the GOP had control of Congress, and Democrat Clinton the presidency, common sense took control, and the economy showed that.
But when George “Dubya” took over, and had, as a bonus, control of Congress, common sense seems to have taken leave of D. C. as well. Considering Dubya’s economic policies-Reaganomics on steroids-and his insistence on the Iraqi war that has cost to date some $750 billion, and his laissez-faire style of governing that refuses to intervene in anything he thinks is the purview of the free market, well, it is now that fear begins to creep into my life. Fear, as in, fear of Great Depression-like conditions, that fear that kept control of my parents lives. Everyday, the price of oil increases, and the price of gasoline increases, and the price of everything else increases.
All of this is a nightmare. I am reminded of a friend who had an old-style Caddy during the oil crisis of the late ‘70’s. It would, he said, pass anything but a gas station. I am now afraid to drive past a gas station. I was dubious when forecasters first said four bucks a gallon by summer. Now I am hoping it stops there. And God help us if a major hurricane hits the Gulf coast this year. I am sure we all remember the consequences of Katrina and her friends a few short years back. That was when gasoline first got to the unheard of price of three bucks a gallon. Can you imagine the potential sticker shock if the girls come back this year?
More than anything else, I am afraid to go the supermarkets, now. I cannot tell you how unnerving it is to see the prices for the little amount of food I am able to take out. It is literally getting to the point where, if you have enough money to fill up your tank for a trip to the supermarket, you may not have enough to buy anything when you get there. And the problem isn’t stopping there. The price of food is skyrocketing worldwide, with poor nations bearing the brunt of the resulting food shortages.
More than anything, I am afraid that this problem may have gotten out of control. What if we can’t make this thing right, now? For the first time in my life, thanks to Dubya, I now understand what it was that kept my parents up at night, and I am hoping against hope that the nation will be able to respond as they once responded, and overcome the difficulties we now find ourselves in.
Fear and loathing in the new millenium
There is a quote that is often attributed to the French philosopher Voltaire, that he was said to have directed at a writer with whom he disagreed: “I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend with my life your right to say it.” If it is not, this should be the way we regard all rights guaranteed us by the Bill of Rights. The right to freedom of expression alluded to by the coiner of this phrase is only one of many contained in the First Ten Amendments to the Constitution, and these were added expressly by the founding fathers so that no lawmaker could ever deny them to any of our citizens.
Of course lawmakers or law-making bodies are not the only threats to these liberties that have been safeguarded by the blood of our soldiers time and again. An obvious threat to the right to free expression comes not from Congress, but from the very citizens to whom these freedoms were granted. For instance, once the Bush administration decided to take the nation to its uncalled-for war in Iraq, anyone (as was the case with the Dixie Chicks and the fans disillusioned by them) who spoke out against the war became the target of those whose viewpoints fell more in line with the chicken hawks who were pushing this spurious venture.
A brief note of explanation: A chicken hawk is someone who is in favor of war, but only if someone else has to fight it. This is descriptive of the most of the neo-cons whose idea this war was. These stalwart individuals, when given a chance to fight in an actual war, i.e., Vietnam, as was the case with the President, the Vice President, and so on, declined the honor, in the case of the Vice President, many times. Thus his shocked reaction when he accidentally shot his hunting partner, a minor thing really compared to the mutilations that can occur to those who are unfortunate enough to find themselves in a war zone.
Following the Japanese attack against Pearl Harbor, an attack that brought the United States fully into the Second World War, President Franklin Roosevelt knew that our nation would be challenged as it had never been. To bolster the spirit of the nation, and to calm its fears, he delivered a speech in which he declared, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” As we all know our nation was again attacked on 9/11, 2001, not by a nation this time, but by a group of rogue fundamentalist Muslims, led by a madman whose aim, apparently, was to destroy anything that smacked of the Western, and presumably, democratically ruled world. And since that time, we again find ourselves living in fear. And once again, we look to our leaders to calm these fears. Only this time, we may be looking to our leaders in vain.
In the hearings being held by the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence to consider the nomination of Air Force General Michael Hayden to be the new director of the CIA, Chairman Pat Roberts, R. Kan., had a new take on the Roosevelt “fear” speech. Before any questions were directed to the potential head spook, Sen. Roberts attempted to set the tone of the hearings by making a declaration of his own. He said “I am a strong supporter of the rights guaranteed by the First and Fourth Amendments to the Constitution, but you have no rights when you are dead.” This is in rather stark contrast to the statement made by Roosevelt. No “stick it out, we’ll get through it” statement here, just, “Let us have our way, or big bad Osama will get you!”
We know that the Fourth Amendment has been under fire by the actions of the President and the CIA director-nominee, but with the reference to the First Amendment, the Chairman may be signaling that our right to free speech may be next. Well, it isn’t as though the President ever emulated Voltaire and stood up and reminded any of his supporters, as critics of his war were being thoroughly roasted by them during its incipient phase, that everyone in our country enjoys the right to free speech. Rather he shrugged and suggested that his critics brought all their misery on themselves.
Of course, that reference may have been to the right to a free press as well. It is pretty obvious that this President is no fan of anyone who dares question him, and the press is no exception. Fortunately there is always the Fox News Service, a favorite of righteous conservatives everywhere who seek refuge in Rupert Murdoch’s brand of “fair and balanced” reporting.
But the questions that someone needs to ask now that our liberties are being threatened thusly are these: What is our country if we are stripped of any of the protections provided by the constitution? In fact, what is anything once it is stripped of its essence? And if our liberties aren’t the essence of our country, then what is?
President Bush has said on many occasions that this new enemy, the terrorists who seek to strike us whenever and where ever they can, do so because they hate us, and our freedoms. If the President really means what he says, surely he sees that any curtailment of these freedoms, for whatever noble purpose, does nothing to win the war on terrorism, and only accomplishes what he himself has declared was the goal of the terrorists to begin with.
Of course lawmakers or law-making bodies are not the only threats to these liberties that have been safeguarded by the blood of our soldiers time and again. An obvious threat to the right to free expression comes not from Congress, but from the very citizens to whom these freedoms were granted. For instance, once the Bush administration decided to take the nation to its uncalled-for war in Iraq, anyone (as was the case with the Dixie Chicks and the fans disillusioned by them) who spoke out against the war became the target of those whose viewpoints fell more in line with the chicken hawks who were pushing this spurious venture.
A brief note of explanation: A chicken hawk is someone who is in favor of war, but only if someone else has to fight it. This is descriptive of the most of the neo-cons whose idea this war was. These stalwart individuals, when given a chance to fight in an actual war, i.e., Vietnam, as was the case with the President, the Vice President, and so on, declined the honor, in the case of the Vice President, many times. Thus his shocked reaction when he accidentally shot his hunting partner, a minor thing really compared to the mutilations that can occur to those who are unfortunate enough to find themselves in a war zone.
Following the Japanese attack against Pearl Harbor, an attack that brought the United States fully into the Second World War, President Franklin Roosevelt knew that our nation would be challenged as it had never been. To bolster the spirit of the nation, and to calm its fears, he delivered a speech in which he declared, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” As we all know our nation was again attacked on 9/11, 2001, not by a nation this time, but by a group of rogue fundamentalist Muslims, led by a madman whose aim, apparently, was to destroy anything that smacked of the Western, and presumably, democratically ruled world. And since that time, we again find ourselves living in fear. And once again, we look to our leaders to calm these fears. Only this time, we may be looking to our leaders in vain.
In the hearings being held by the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence to consider the nomination of Air Force General Michael Hayden to be the new director of the CIA, Chairman Pat Roberts, R. Kan., had a new take on the Roosevelt “fear” speech. Before any questions were directed to the potential head spook, Sen. Roberts attempted to set the tone of the hearings by making a declaration of his own. He said “I am a strong supporter of the rights guaranteed by the First and Fourth Amendments to the Constitution, but you have no rights when you are dead.” This is in rather stark contrast to the statement made by Roosevelt. No “stick it out, we’ll get through it” statement here, just, “Let us have our way, or big bad Osama will get you!”
We know that the Fourth Amendment has been under fire by the actions of the President and the CIA director-nominee, but with the reference to the First Amendment, the Chairman may be signaling that our right to free speech may be next. Well, it isn’t as though the President ever emulated Voltaire and stood up and reminded any of his supporters, as critics of his war were being thoroughly roasted by them during its incipient phase, that everyone in our country enjoys the right to free speech. Rather he shrugged and suggested that his critics brought all their misery on themselves.
Of course, that reference may have been to the right to a free press as well. It is pretty obvious that this President is no fan of anyone who dares question him, and the press is no exception. Fortunately there is always the Fox News Service, a favorite of righteous conservatives everywhere who seek refuge in Rupert Murdoch’s brand of “fair and balanced” reporting.
But the questions that someone needs to ask now that our liberties are being threatened thusly are these: What is our country if we are stripped of any of the protections provided by the constitution? In fact, what is anything once it is stripped of its essence? And if our liberties aren’t the essence of our country, then what is?
President Bush has said on many occasions that this new enemy, the terrorists who seek to strike us whenever and where ever they can, do so because they hate us, and our freedoms. If the President really means what he says, surely he sees that any curtailment of these freedoms, for whatever noble purpose, does nothing to win the war on terrorism, and only accomplishes what he himself has declared was the goal of the terrorists to begin with.
Fast times at the Board of Education
I have been following, along with the rest of the county, through the various news stories in the Appalachian News-Express, the woes that have recently beset the Pike County Board of Education. Its financial woes, for instance, have made my heart bleed for their employees. There was talk, for instance, of the truncated raises that most have had to settle for. Of course, the whole thing has to do with some algebraic formulae that can only be understood by CPA’s, etc, and that are used to determine how much money the state kicks in to the local board’s coffers. It turns out that Pike County will not receive as much as was once thought, and now the boys from the Pentagon must tighten their belts.
And, as usual, when the BOE tightens belts, it is the non-tenured teachers and classified employees that must bear the brunt of the process. And by extension, the students must also suffer as-and this should be obvious-when there are fewer teachers, there are also more students in each class to compete for the instructors’ already limited time. Of course, to further reduce the payroll, those teachers who have reached retirement age are encouraged to take their pensions, and, in so doing, make room for those who are of a lesser rank, thus trading the more talented, experienced teachers for their less qualified brethren (and sistern) in order to save some money, and as a result, further short-changing the students.
Now if all employees were like the substitute teachers (I am one of these poor unfortunates), the board would have a far easier time of it. For instance, that sticky issue of pay raises? Not a concern with us. It’s as simple as this. We don’t get any. I’ve been a substitute now for eight years (Why? I’m a masochist, I suppose!) and in all that time, not even a mention of a pay raise. Well, it is a sacrifice I, for one, am proud to make. And, by not getting annual pay raises, I make lots of friends. Such as those nice bill collectors who want to know when they can expect payment.
But if the BOE is really intent on saving money, I have an idea. Let us take better care of our school text books. It has been my experience that the students are not apt to be intent on taking the best care of them. As a result, it is not unusual to see them in every state of disrepair. They can be found with their backs missing entirely, or with their backs broken, or with pages ripped out. And they can be found abandoned throughout the school. In fact, some are left outdoors, and once they sit through a good rainfall, their careers as text books are pretty much shot. And the upshot is, for the most part, these books cost up to, and in many cases, over, fifty dollars a copy. And although I may be wrong, the student does not seem to be responsible for the cost of a book that is damaged, or, apt as not, destroyed.
I am as adamant that books not be destroyed as I am that animals not be abused. And I would hope, and in fact I firmly believe, that regular teachers take the same point of view. Yet the evidence is all around that these books are not being taken care of. And, apparently there is no consequence to the student to whom the book is issued if it is not usable when it is returned. So, I would propose that this be changed. It should be the policy of the BOE that if a text book is even written in, that the student to whom it is issued would fail that course, and be required to take a summer school in order to pass it. And, if that book is lost or destroyed, that the student again be held responsible for the price of the replacement. And if the parents of the child cannot come up with the money, then that student should be required to come into the school on Saturdays and work until the debt is repaid. This is not as unfair a policy as it may seem, because, in order to keep from having to face these consequences, the students need only keep up with their books, and refrain from doing damage to them.
Finally, there is the problem of having to hire a new superintendent. This is another sticky problem that the current BOE seems to have met, and rather quickly at that. I know that Mr. Welch may have thrown them a curve ball by trying to, uh, un-retire, and I suppose that that may have cramped the style of the search committee, but it does seem to me that, well, everything fell into place so fast. First, it was announced that there were twelve applicants for the job, and who these people were, and where they were from, or what their qualifications were, nobody but the BOE knew. Then just as quickly, we were told that of those twelve, three would be interviewed by the committee whose job it was to hire the new head honcho. No mention as to how this list was whittled down so quickly, or even who’d be on it. And, miracle of miracles, in what seemed like less than a heartbeat… . Voila, we had a winner.
It had been my intention to suggest that maybe the BOE should seek a wider array of candidates for this job by casting a wider net, and maybe getting some more qualified candidates to consider, but I was re-assured when I read of Roger Wagner’s hiring, for, when Board Member Bobby Varney tells me “I don’t have no problem with him being superintendent”…, well, somehow that says it all.
.
And, as usual, when the BOE tightens belts, it is the non-tenured teachers and classified employees that must bear the brunt of the process. And by extension, the students must also suffer as-and this should be obvious-when there are fewer teachers, there are also more students in each class to compete for the instructors’ already limited time. Of course, to further reduce the payroll, those teachers who have reached retirement age are encouraged to take their pensions, and, in so doing, make room for those who are of a lesser rank, thus trading the more talented, experienced teachers for their less qualified brethren (and sistern) in order to save some money, and as a result, further short-changing the students.
Now if all employees were like the substitute teachers (I am one of these poor unfortunates), the board would have a far easier time of it. For instance, that sticky issue of pay raises? Not a concern with us. It’s as simple as this. We don’t get any. I’ve been a substitute now for eight years (Why? I’m a masochist, I suppose!) and in all that time, not even a mention of a pay raise. Well, it is a sacrifice I, for one, am proud to make. And, by not getting annual pay raises, I make lots of friends. Such as those nice bill collectors who want to know when they can expect payment.
But if the BOE is really intent on saving money, I have an idea. Let us take better care of our school text books. It has been my experience that the students are not apt to be intent on taking the best care of them. As a result, it is not unusual to see them in every state of disrepair. They can be found with their backs missing entirely, or with their backs broken, or with pages ripped out. And they can be found abandoned throughout the school. In fact, some are left outdoors, and once they sit through a good rainfall, their careers as text books are pretty much shot. And the upshot is, for the most part, these books cost up to, and in many cases, over, fifty dollars a copy. And although I may be wrong, the student does not seem to be responsible for the cost of a book that is damaged, or, apt as not, destroyed.
I am as adamant that books not be destroyed as I am that animals not be abused. And I would hope, and in fact I firmly believe, that regular teachers take the same point of view. Yet the evidence is all around that these books are not being taken care of. And, apparently there is no consequence to the student to whom the book is issued if it is not usable when it is returned. So, I would propose that this be changed. It should be the policy of the BOE that if a text book is even written in, that the student to whom it is issued would fail that course, and be required to take a summer school in order to pass it. And, if that book is lost or destroyed, that the student again be held responsible for the price of the replacement. And if the parents of the child cannot come up with the money, then that student should be required to come into the school on Saturdays and work until the debt is repaid. This is not as unfair a policy as it may seem, because, in order to keep from having to face these consequences, the students need only keep up with their books, and refrain from doing damage to them.
Finally, there is the problem of having to hire a new superintendent. This is another sticky problem that the current BOE seems to have met, and rather quickly at that. I know that Mr. Welch may have thrown them a curve ball by trying to, uh, un-retire, and I suppose that that may have cramped the style of the search committee, but it does seem to me that, well, everything fell into place so fast. First, it was announced that there were twelve applicants for the job, and who these people were, and where they were from, or what their qualifications were, nobody but the BOE knew. Then just as quickly, we were told that of those twelve, three would be interviewed by the committee whose job it was to hire the new head honcho. No mention as to how this list was whittled down so quickly, or even who’d be on it. And, miracle of miracles, in what seemed like less than a heartbeat… . Voila, we had a winner.
It had been my intention to suggest that maybe the BOE should seek a wider array of candidates for this job by casting a wider net, and maybe getting some more qualified candidates to consider, but I was re-assured when I read of Roger Wagner’s hiring, for, when Board Member Bobby Varney tells me “I don’t have no problem with him being superintendent”…, well, somehow that says it all.
.
Big changes in a small town
The story in Sunday’s Appalachian News-Express about Food City’s celebration of 50 years of business is as notable for what it didn’t say as for what it did. For there, buried deep inside this report was the revelation that the celebration was taking place at the newest outlet just opened in Vansant, Va., a mere four miles away from Jack Smith’s first store in Grundy, and while the story didn’t come out and say it, I knew without a doubt that the curtain had fallen on my favorite Food City location
Well, it wasn’t like I didn’t know that the Grundy store’s days were numbered. After all, I’d discussed it many times with the store’s personnel. But like an old friend whose name you spot in the obituary, it came as a bit of a shock, nonetheless. And as is the case when you must deal with bad news about an old friend, I experienced the phase known as denial. Maybe, I thought, the old store was still opened. After all, there would be no store in Grundy if this one closed.
So, with grocery list in hand, and some faint hope I started out for the big city of Grundy, fully aware of the fact that I might have to back track a little in a worse case scenario, and head farther west than I normally travel. And sure enough, when I got to where my travels might have ended only a week or so earlier, I spotted a darkened building denuded of its sign, and a parking lot that had only one vehicle. An old friend, indeed, was gone.
It’s hard to believe that this 8,800 square foot location is now too small. In 1955, when a lot of mom and pop locations that are now just a memory were still in business, this must have seemed incredibly large. But, alas, no longer. Now, a store of this size is a relic, a dinosaur in the 21st century. So there was nothing to do but replace it, and the replacement store’s size, at 46,500 square feet, shows just how out of date the old store was.
But for a while, the old store was state-of-the-art. For instance, the doors here were automatic, and at a time when the public didn’t see such a thing on an everyday basis, as was the case with one lady who came into town to do her weekly shopping. As my Dad told it, she went up to the store, and straight to the “out” door. Of course the door wouldn’t open easily, but this didn’t stop our heroine, and after a mighty struggle, she actually got the door opened.
Now there is nothing my Dad loved more than a good laugh, and he was still laughing when something occurred to him. If she had gone in through the out door, she’d probably come out through the in door.
Sure enough, when the lady made her exit, another tremendous struggle with the automatic door ensued, but, as Bugs Bunny once said, clean livin’ prevailed, and as the lady made her way towards her car, she said to my Dad, who managed briefly to quell his laughter, “Them’s the hardest doors to git in and out of I ever did see.”
At this, Dad could only choke back his laughter, and agree that, “yes, they are kind of hard to ‘git in and out of’”.
Speaking of those weekly shopping trips, that is just what they were when this store was not so old. You didn’t go to a supermarket except to get those items you didn’t grow in your garden or couldn’t get at that those mom and pop stores that were still everywhere. Still there were those customers who took that to an extreme. And speaking of those who took such extreme measures, my Dad was on one of his monthly shopping trips (yes, he shopped only once a month), when he spotted a fellow shopper who was obviously not a city dweller. Like my father, this man knew what he wanted, and it took him only a few minutes to get it. In no time flat, according to Dad, he was checking out with his only purchases, a 50-pound sack of potatoes, and a 25-pound sack of pinto beans.
“There was one thing for sure, ” Dad said, “he wasn’t going to go hungry.”
Well, that was then, and this is now. Now the old store just doesn’t have what the public demands. So you change with the times, or you get left behind. And Jack Smith, et al, must be doing something right. After all, K-VA-T stores are doing a good business in an area that has seen national stores like Kroger’s and Wynn Dixie leave, even in the face of competition from the likes of Wal-Mart.
It’s just too bad that sometimes the cost of remaining competitive is a store that is as familiar to you as an old, but comfortable pair of shoes.
Well, it wasn’t like I didn’t know that the Grundy store’s days were numbered. After all, I’d discussed it many times with the store’s personnel. But like an old friend whose name you spot in the obituary, it came as a bit of a shock, nonetheless. And as is the case when you must deal with bad news about an old friend, I experienced the phase known as denial. Maybe, I thought, the old store was still opened. After all, there would be no store in Grundy if this one closed.
So, with grocery list in hand, and some faint hope I started out for the big city of Grundy, fully aware of the fact that I might have to back track a little in a worse case scenario, and head farther west than I normally travel. And sure enough, when I got to where my travels might have ended only a week or so earlier, I spotted a darkened building denuded of its sign, and a parking lot that had only one vehicle. An old friend, indeed, was gone.
It’s hard to believe that this 8,800 square foot location is now too small. In 1955, when a lot of mom and pop locations that are now just a memory were still in business, this must have seemed incredibly large. But, alas, no longer. Now, a store of this size is a relic, a dinosaur in the 21st century. So there was nothing to do but replace it, and the replacement store’s size, at 46,500 square feet, shows just how out of date the old store was.
But for a while, the old store was state-of-the-art. For instance, the doors here were automatic, and at a time when the public didn’t see such a thing on an everyday basis, as was the case with one lady who came into town to do her weekly shopping. As my Dad told it, she went up to the store, and straight to the “out” door. Of course the door wouldn’t open easily, but this didn’t stop our heroine, and after a mighty struggle, she actually got the door opened.
Now there is nothing my Dad loved more than a good laugh, and he was still laughing when something occurred to him. If she had gone in through the out door, she’d probably come out through the in door.
Sure enough, when the lady made her exit, another tremendous struggle with the automatic door ensued, but, as Bugs Bunny once said, clean livin’ prevailed, and as the lady made her way towards her car, she said to my Dad, who managed briefly to quell his laughter, “Them’s the hardest doors to git in and out of I ever did see.”
At this, Dad could only choke back his laughter, and agree that, “yes, they are kind of hard to ‘git in and out of’”.
Speaking of those weekly shopping trips, that is just what they were when this store was not so old. You didn’t go to a supermarket except to get those items you didn’t grow in your garden or couldn’t get at that those mom and pop stores that were still everywhere. Still there were those customers who took that to an extreme. And speaking of those who took such extreme measures, my Dad was on one of his monthly shopping trips (yes, he shopped only once a month), when he spotted a fellow shopper who was obviously not a city dweller. Like my father, this man knew what he wanted, and it took him only a few minutes to get it. In no time flat, according to Dad, he was checking out with his only purchases, a 50-pound sack of potatoes, and a 25-pound sack of pinto beans.
“There was one thing for sure, ” Dad said, “he wasn’t going to go hungry.”
Well, that was then, and this is now. Now the old store just doesn’t have what the public demands. So you change with the times, or you get left behind. And Jack Smith, et al, must be doing something right. After all, K-VA-T stores are doing a good business in an area that has seen national stores like Kroger’s and Wynn Dixie leave, even in the face of competition from the likes of Wal-Mart.
It’s just too bad that sometimes the cost of remaining competitive is a store that is as familiar to you as an old, but comfortable pair of shoes.
Farewell to a best friend and comrade.
Although it is your family members who are, and who should always be the closest people to you, there are those, without whose friendship, life would certainly be more of a burden. These people go by the moniker of “best friend”. Sad indeed, is the individual who doesn’t have someone in whom to confide his hopes, secrets, fears, and dreams. In fact, it is the best friend who will hear more from most individuals that any of their family members. And once you are designated a “best friend”, it is a job that you will keep for the rest of your life, even if your paths diverge so that you no longer get to keep in touch on a daily basis as you might once have done. Once a best friend, always a best friend.
When I first began my formal education, I was, for the first two years, a refugee from the construction that would create the Fishtrap Dam. I started school at Millard, but, as luck would have it, my family and I were forced to move, and in the middle of the second grade, we relocated, and I resumed my education at Shelby. This was the school year of 1962-63, and as anyone can tell you, 1963 was a flood year for the area. No drought then, just lots of snow that winter, and one big mama of a gully washer in March that washed us out of our new residence. It also took up so much school time that we actually did the unthinkable and went to school on Saturdays to get in the required classroom time.
My dad, having been washed out of house and home twice in a six year span, decided to move back to his old stomping grounds, on Feds Creek, and took a house high on the hill to prevent a recurrence of his recent misfortunes. So, in the fall of 1963, I enrolled at the original Feds Creek Elementary School. You would have to have seen to school as it was then. There were still a lot of students whose families had not been relocated yet from the mouth of the creek or the area along old U. S. Route 460, and they were still attending school at Feds Creek then. The school bottom, that is the area in front of the school that is so grassy now, hadn’t, I don’t think, one blade of grass then. This was due to school boys playing marbles on practically every square inch of it.
On my way to school one morning, I stopped to watch a game of marbles, and I noticed one player in particular. I can’t say what it was that made me watch him, but being new at the school, I was anxious to make someone’s acquaintance, so I struck up a conversation with him. It was in these humble circumstances that I met the fellow who would become my best friend at Feds Creek, Frank Howard. Well, we had to be best friends; we had, after all, a great deal in common. We both went by our middle names, not the first, as is common. Okay, I am sure that there is more than that, but it isn’t what you have in common that makes for a great friendship, is it, because, after all, opposites do attract, so they say.
Whatever its basis, my friendship with Frank never waned. We were friends right on through high school, and for all those years afterwards, and we never lost contact, even after Frank, at the age of thirty, decided to join the Army, and resolved from the very first, to stay until he retired. We managed to survive some wild times together, including some close encounters of the third kind with teachers who were very proficient with the “board” of education, and even a one year stint on the “all-bench” basketball team while freshmen.
Frank was beyond ordinary. He fit in every where he ever went. I don’t think I can recall him having any enemies. And he had a perseverance about him that helped him succeed, no matter what he did. He had a quality about him that made him what very few might have ever suspected he would ever become, and that is, a hero. And while hero has many different meanings, all dependent on the user and circumstances, Frank, many times, proved he deserved that title.
First of all, there are the circumstances that he felt compelled him to enter military service at an age when most people would have long since forgotten about such an idea. Frank, newly married, in 1985, was a coal miner, a job that he never really cared for. I recall visiting him and his wife, Pam, when they were renting a small house at the mouth of Little Card Creek. Frank had just come back from work, and as he prepared to bathe before supper, he told me then that he wasn’t going to work all his life in the mines, that he was going to join the Army, for his family, if for no other reason. And he did just what he said he would do. Sacrifice for those he loved was nothing new to Frank. He was a dutiful son, and grandson, and he continued to work diligently for those he loved after he and Pam got married. And I am sure that his two children kept him in uniform as well, and Josh and Jenna can tell you, their father provided well for them.
Military service for Frank included a tour in the then war-torn country of Yugoslavia, where he served with distinction. Going into an area where your life is at risk, and following orders faithfully are all signs of a hero. His last tour of duty, if I am not mistaken, took Frank to South Korea, where he stayed without his family for at least two years, but once back, and with time enough for retirement, Frank had what he had worked for, for twenty years, a secure future for his loved ones.
Alas, Frank will not get to live out the dream of an early retirement. He was unexpectedly called from this life this past Friday. His loss leaves a grieving family, and a host of saddened friends, but he true to his nature, he fulfilled his duty first. In my mind, I see, on the other side, a beaming new soldier, this time in God’s Army, who stands guard there, and patiently awaits the day when he and his beloved family will be re-united. And so, I must now bid farewell to my best friend and comrade, a soldier, brave and true, to the last.
When I first began my formal education, I was, for the first two years, a refugee from the construction that would create the Fishtrap Dam. I started school at Millard, but, as luck would have it, my family and I were forced to move, and in the middle of the second grade, we relocated, and I resumed my education at Shelby. This was the school year of 1962-63, and as anyone can tell you, 1963 was a flood year for the area. No drought then, just lots of snow that winter, and one big mama of a gully washer in March that washed us out of our new residence. It also took up so much school time that we actually did the unthinkable and went to school on Saturdays to get in the required classroom time.
My dad, having been washed out of house and home twice in a six year span, decided to move back to his old stomping grounds, on Feds Creek, and took a house high on the hill to prevent a recurrence of his recent misfortunes. So, in the fall of 1963, I enrolled at the original Feds Creek Elementary School. You would have to have seen to school as it was then. There were still a lot of students whose families had not been relocated yet from the mouth of the creek or the area along old U. S. Route 460, and they were still attending school at Feds Creek then. The school bottom, that is the area in front of the school that is so grassy now, hadn’t, I don’t think, one blade of grass then. This was due to school boys playing marbles on practically every square inch of it.
On my way to school one morning, I stopped to watch a game of marbles, and I noticed one player in particular. I can’t say what it was that made me watch him, but being new at the school, I was anxious to make someone’s acquaintance, so I struck up a conversation with him. It was in these humble circumstances that I met the fellow who would become my best friend at Feds Creek, Frank Howard. Well, we had to be best friends; we had, after all, a great deal in common. We both went by our middle names, not the first, as is common. Okay, I am sure that there is more than that, but it isn’t what you have in common that makes for a great friendship, is it, because, after all, opposites do attract, so they say.
Whatever its basis, my friendship with Frank never waned. We were friends right on through high school, and for all those years afterwards, and we never lost contact, even after Frank, at the age of thirty, decided to join the Army, and resolved from the very first, to stay until he retired. We managed to survive some wild times together, including some close encounters of the third kind with teachers who were very proficient with the “board” of education, and even a one year stint on the “all-bench” basketball team while freshmen.
Frank was beyond ordinary. He fit in every where he ever went. I don’t think I can recall him having any enemies. And he had a perseverance about him that helped him succeed, no matter what he did. He had a quality about him that made him what very few might have ever suspected he would ever become, and that is, a hero. And while hero has many different meanings, all dependent on the user and circumstances, Frank, many times, proved he deserved that title.
First of all, there are the circumstances that he felt compelled him to enter military service at an age when most people would have long since forgotten about such an idea. Frank, newly married, in 1985, was a coal miner, a job that he never really cared for. I recall visiting him and his wife, Pam, when they were renting a small house at the mouth of Little Card Creek. Frank had just come back from work, and as he prepared to bathe before supper, he told me then that he wasn’t going to work all his life in the mines, that he was going to join the Army, for his family, if for no other reason. And he did just what he said he would do. Sacrifice for those he loved was nothing new to Frank. He was a dutiful son, and grandson, and he continued to work diligently for those he loved after he and Pam got married. And I am sure that his two children kept him in uniform as well, and Josh and Jenna can tell you, their father provided well for them.
Military service for Frank included a tour in the then war-torn country of Yugoslavia, where he served with distinction. Going into an area where your life is at risk, and following orders faithfully are all signs of a hero. His last tour of duty, if I am not mistaken, took Frank to South Korea, where he stayed without his family for at least two years, but once back, and with time enough for retirement, Frank had what he had worked for, for twenty years, a secure future for his loved ones.
Alas, Frank will not get to live out the dream of an early retirement. He was unexpectedly called from this life this past Friday. His loss leaves a grieving family, and a host of saddened friends, but he true to his nature, he fulfilled his duty first. In my mind, I see, on the other side, a beaming new soldier, this time in God’s Army, who stands guard there, and patiently awaits the day when he and his beloved family will be re-united. And so, I must now bid farewell to my best friend and comrade, a soldier, brave and true, to the last.
Extending a helping hand
Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days. Ecclesiastes 11:1
Not many people from this part of the world have ever heard of Mohammed Younus, but this man has managed to make a world of difference in the lives of otherwise impoverished third-world citizens. Dr. Younus, a Bangladeshi banker, is the man who, with his financial institution, the Grameen Bank, took the concept of the microloan to new heights, and for his efforts, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2006.
Microloans and microcredit are terms that go hand-in-hand. Microcredit is the concept that allows for the microloan, and a microloan is made to entrepreneurs or to others, usually living in developing countries, whose standard of living are low enough so that they do not qualify for consideration by normal banking regulations. The extension of credit to these people, however, will allow them to start up small businesses, and allow them to make enough money to repay the loan, and to establish a higher standard of living for themselves.
As a concept, microloans and microcredit go back to the Marshall Plan, whose basic aim was to rebuild Europe following World War Two, but this concept came into its own starting in the 1970’s. According to the Wikipedia entry for Microloan, one of the first one in this decade went to a Columbian by the name of Carlos Moreno. It was given by an organization called Opportunity International, which was founded Al Whittaker, one-time president of Bristol Myers, and was used by its recipient to expand his spice and tea business. Later Whittaker combined his efforts with those of Australian David Bussau, and Opportunity, International was born. Loans from this organization range from amounts as low as $25.00 on up to $500.00, and are a positive boon to those who are blessed by them.
Of course, the whole concept of loaning money to anyone under any circumstances is successful only if the money is repaid. So, does this idea of loaning money to people who do not qualify for a traditional loan, work? Again, according to Wikipedia, and citing loans given by another organization, ACCION, International during a four-year period from its inception in 1973, in the country of Brazil, of 885 loans made, over 90% were repaid. And how much of an impact did these loans make in the communities where they were made? These loans either stabilized, or created 1386 new jobs. The success of these first loans allow ACCION to switch from building infrastructure to creating opportunities for poor people, not only in Brazil, but throughout Central and South America, Africa, and even in the United States.
Back to Dr. Younus and the Grameen Bank, whose efforts in microcredit began at about the same time as ACCION and Opportunities, International. Dr. Younus made his first loan of $27.00 in 1974 from his own pocket to a group of people, one of them a woman, who used her money to create bamboo furniture, which she sold to feed her family. In 1976, Dr. Younus founded the Grameen bank, an institution that has, in the interim, made over $5 billion in loans to several million borrowers. To insure repayment, small groups of those who benefit from these loans meet each week with bank representatives, and encourage each other in their entrepreneurial efforts. Again, according to Wikipedia, the success of this program has allowed Grameen to branch out into other areas, such as home loans, or projects that benefit whole communities with projects such as irrigation for farmland.
Worldwide, it is worth noting that most of these microloans are made to women., and for some very good reasons: Women are more apt to repay them, and they use their profits to support their families.
Seeing the success of the microloan in the improvement it has made in the lives of poor people worldwide, I have always wondered if such an idea might not be used here in Eastern Kentucky. This is an area, after all, that is known for it endemic poverty. And while it might not exist on the same scale as it does, say, in Bangladesh or other third-world countries, it is still here, and there certainly are those who would benefit from a microloan, and again, these are people who would not otherwise qualify for credit from local banks. The only thing that is needed is a source of money, and a method to get these small loans to those who need them.
Of course, that poverty exists in an area that has been as blessed as this one has with natural resources is a paradox. Yet we all know the story of the broad form deed, and how these came into being. Having conned the locals out of their birthrights, the big coal companies then took a lot of the wealth out of the area with them, leaving in their wake blighted land, and used-up miners. It was for this reason that the coal-severance tax was first enacted. Taxing coal to make up for its removal was a way to see to it that there would be opportunities afterwards.
And the coal severance tax has been put to good use, as it has been used to build local parks, for the benefit of senior citizens, to help maintain local fire departments, to expand potable drinking water to county residents, for expansion of sewage services, or elimination of straight pipes, and even to build the Exposition Center in Pikeville. But it occurs to me that if a pittance from the proceeds of this tax were set aside for microcredit and microloans, those citizens who live outside the few cities of our area, such as Pikeville, and who do not so directly benefit from this tax, might then be able to support themselves and their families by starting up some small business.
Of course, the same safeguards would be in place to see that the loans were used wisely, and were repaid, and that those who receive them also get as much help as they need to keep their new businesses healthy and viable. But if these loans are half as successful as those made by the organizations cited previously, then not only would those who would be recipients of these loans benefit greatly, this area as a whole would gain, and more of our citizens would be able to hold their heads up and show the world that they have what it takes to be successful.
Not many people from this part of the world have ever heard of Mohammed Younus, but this man has managed to make a world of difference in the lives of otherwise impoverished third-world citizens. Dr. Younus, a Bangladeshi banker, is the man who, with his financial institution, the Grameen Bank, took the concept of the microloan to new heights, and for his efforts, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2006.
Microloans and microcredit are terms that go hand-in-hand. Microcredit is the concept that allows for the microloan, and a microloan is made to entrepreneurs or to others, usually living in developing countries, whose standard of living are low enough so that they do not qualify for consideration by normal banking regulations. The extension of credit to these people, however, will allow them to start up small businesses, and allow them to make enough money to repay the loan, and to establish a higher standard of living for themselves.
As a concept, microloans and microcredit go back to the Marshall Plan, whose basic aim was to rebuild Europe following World War Two, but this concept came into its own starting in the 1970’s. According to the Wikipedia entry for Microloan, one of the first one in this decade went to a Columbian by the name of Carlos Moreno. It was given by an organization called Opportunity International, which was founded Al Whittaker, one-time president of Bristol Myers, and was used by its recipient to expand his spice and tea business. Later Whittaker combined his efforts with those of Australian David Bussau, and Opportunity, International was born. Loans from this organization range from amounts as low as $25.00 on up to $500.00, and are a positive boon to those who are blessed by them.
Of course, the whole concept of loaning money to anyone under any circumstances is successful only if the money is repaid. So, does this idea of loaning money to people who do not qualify for a traditional loan, work? Again, according to Wikipedia, and citing loans given by another organization, ACCION, International during a four-year period from its inception in 1973, in the country of Brazil, of 885 loans made, over 90% were repaid. And how much of an impact did these loans make in the communities where they were made? These loans either stabilized, or created 1386 new jobs. The success of these first loans allow ACCION to switch from building infrastructure to creating opportunities for poor people, not only in Brazil, but throughout Central and South America, Africa, and even in the United States.
Back to Dr. Younus and the Grameen Bank, whose efforts in microcredit began at about the same time as ACCION and Opportunities, International. Dr. Younus made his first loan of $27.00 in 1974 from his own pocket to a group of people, one of them a woman, who used her money to create bamboo furniture, which she sold to feed her family. In 1976, Dr. Younus founded the Grameen bank, an institution that has, in the interim, made over $5 billion in loans to several million borrowers. To insure repayment, small groups of those who benefit from these loans meet each week with bank representatives, and encourage each other in their entrepreneurial efforts. Again, according to Wikipedia, the success of this program has allowed Grameen to branch out into other areas, such as home loans, or projects that benefit whole communities with projects such as irrigation for farmland.
Worldwide, it is worth noting that most of these microloans are made to women., and for some very good reasons: Women are more apt to repay them, and they use their profits to support their families.
Seeing the success of the microloan in the improvement it has made in the lives of poor people worldwide, I have always wondered if such an idea might not be used here in Eastern Kentucky. This is an area, after all, that is known for it endemic poverty. And while it might not exist on the same scale as it does, say, in Bangladesh or other third-world countries, it is still here, and there certainly are those who would benefit from a microloan, and again, these are people who would not otherwise qualify for credit from local banks. The only thing that is needed is a source of money, and a method to get these small loans to those who need them.
Of course, that poverty exists in an area that has been as blessed as this one has with natural resources is a paradox. Yet we all know the story of the broad form deed, and how these came into being. Having conned the locals out of their birthrights, the big coal companies then took a lot of the wealth out of the area with them, leaving in their wake blighted land, and used-up miners. It was for this reason that the coal-severance tax was first enacted. Taxing coal to make up for its removal was a way to see to it that there would be opportunities afterwards.
And the coal severance tax has been put to good use, as it has been used to build local parks, for the benefit of senior citizens, to help maintain local fire departments, to expand potable drinking water to county residents, for expansion of sewage services, or elimination of straight pipes, and even to build the Exposition Center in Pikeville. But it occurs to me that if a pittance from the proceeds of this tax were set aside for microcredit and microloans, those citizens who live outside the few cities of our area, such as Pikeville, and who do not so directly benefit from this tax, might then be able to support themselves and their families by starting up some small business.
Of course, the same safeguards would be in place to see that the loans were used wisely, and were repaid, and that those who receive them also get as much help as they need to keep their new businesses healthy and viable. But if these loans are half as successful as those made by the organizations cited previously, then not only would those who would be recipients of these loans benefit greatly, this area as a whole would gain, and more of our citizens would be able to hold their heads up and show the world that they have what it takes to be successful.
evil terbaccy
KET’s fine program, Kentucky Tonight, (Monday night, 8pm) which regularly focuses on issues that affect Kentuckians, just as regularly discusses the idea of raising the tobacco tax in the Bluegrass State. And whenever a panel takes up this idea, there are always representatives of the tobacco farmers, or some conservative organization, and these agents are sure that either any tax is evil, or that if we were to, say, raise the cigarette tax above its paltry rate of 3 cents per pack, we would cost the state money and jobs. In this case, of course, the jobs that would be lost are jobs that only a conservative tobacco grower would love, as they pay minimum wage for the most part. Nevertheless, these opponents of a realistic tobacco tax are sure that without them, the state would suffer greatly. Never mind the fact that no state that borders Kentucky has lost the opportunity to raise cigarette taxes, not even tobacco-growing Virginia.
But when discussions of this sort are taking place, we tend to forget one thing: cigarettes are a product that kills the consumer. A smoker is not unlike a rat that will buy its own D-Con. Not even the cigarette companies pretend otherwise anymore. Philip Morris now regularly runs PSA’s that strongly recommend that no one use its product, which it now declares to be addictive and deadly. Of course, it still produces this product; it’s just stopped pretending that it doesn’t kill.
Meanwhile in the Commonwealth of the gullible, the whacking great tax of three cents per pack of cigarettes insures that even the poorest or youngest victim can afford to buy them. This helps Kentucky in its goal to be number one in something, anything. Here, we lead the nation in preventable deaths such as the ones that come from lung cancer, emphysema, throat cancer, heart disease, or other extremely long-term and painful illnesses that end in a trip to the undertaker for the consumer, and a trip to the poor-house for either the consumer’s relatives, or, as it usually the case, the tax-payers who help support Medicaid in Kentucky.
If cigarettes were priced high enough to allow the smokers to pay their own medical costs, then each pack would be priced from as little as 8 dollars per pack to as much as 41 dollars per pack, depending on whom you ask. These are estimated costs of dealing with the sicknesses, health care, lost productivity, etc. caused by the consumers of tobacco. And the bulk of these costs are borne by those of us who spurn the evil weed. This really makes that 3 cents per pack tax seem like a bargain now, huh? The fact is the most expensive decision anyone can make is to start smoking. And the taxpayers of our country can no longer afford it.
And the idea that we should tolerate tobacco use because it “makes money” is ludicrous, even if it were true. Other “entrepreneurs” could make the same argument, marijuana growers, and purveyors of fine illicit drugs for example. Hey, let’s legalize our other “weed”. Then we’d really have ‘em pouring over the border, wouldn’t we?
But there’s more to some things than the amount of money involved, or the number of jobs they provide, isn’t there? Remember, it is the love of money that is the root of all evil. And anyway, what do we have against our fellow citizens from our border states that makes us want to bring them into Kentucky and sell them something that will kill them?
For far too long, the Commonwealth of Kentucky has let the tobacco industry lead it around by the nose. Tobacco does not now, nor has it ever paid its own way. And it is time we declared our independence from this group that has fed us a line and sold us a bill of fare for all these years.
But when discussions of this sort are taking place, we tend to forget one thing: cigarettes are a product that kills the consumer. A smoker is not unlike a rat that will buy its own D-Con. Not even the cigarette companies pretend otherwise anymore. Philip Morris now regularly runs PSA’s that strongly recommend that no one use its product, which it now declares to be addictive and deadly. Of course, it still produces this product; it’s just stopped pretending that it doesn’t kill.
Meanwhile in the Commonwealth of the gullible, the whacking great tax of three cents per pack of cigarettes insures that even the poorest or youngest victim can afford to buy them. This helps Kentucky in its goal to be number one in something, anything. Here, we lead the nation in preventable deaths such as the ones that come from lung cancer, emphysema, throat cancer, heart disease, or other extremely long-term and painful illnesses that end in a trip to the undertaker for the consumer, and a trip to the poor-house for either the consumer’s relatives, or, as it usually the case, the tax-payers who help support Medicaid in Kentucky.
If cigarettes were priced high enough to allow the smokers to pay their own medical costs, then each pack would be priced from as little as 8 dollars per pack to as much as 41 dollars per pack, depending on whom you ask. These are estimated costs of dealing with the sicknesses, health care, lost productivity, etc. caused by the consumers of tobacco. And the bulk of these costs are borne by those of us who spurn the evil weed. This really makes that 3 cents per pack tax seem like a bargain now, huh? The fact is the most expensive decision anyone can make is to start smoking. And the taxpayers of our country can no longer afford it.
And the idea that we should tolerate tobacco use because it “makes money” is ludicrous, even if it were true. Other “entrepreneurs” could make the same argument, marijuana growers, and purveyors of fine illicit drugs for example. Hey, let’s legalize our other “weed”. Then we’d really have ‘em pouring over the border, wouldn’t we?
But there’s more to some things than the amount of money involved, or the number of jobs they provide, isn’t there? Remember, it is the love of money that is the root of all evil. And anyway, what do we have against our fellow citizens from our border states that makes us want to bring them into Kentucky and sell them something that will kill them?
For far too long, the Commonwealth of Kentucky has let the tobacco industry lead it around by the nose. Tobacco does not now, nor has it ever paid its own way. And it is time we declared our independence from this group that has fed us a line and sold us a bill of fare for all these years.
Escaping the Iraqi labyrinth
It has long been the position of the Bush administration that the course it has plotted for the Iraqi war cannot be altered without virtual surrender to the terrorists it still insists this war is meant to defeat. The opponents of this policy have been characterized as either “cut and run” Democrats, or, when they are members of the President’s political party, simply as people who “do not understand the true nature of the conflict.” Yet each day, more opponents of Bush’s strategy, from both major political parties, and from every part of the political spectrum, continue to insist that the “stay the course” policy must be re-examined, and abandoned, if, as is expected, it is found wanting.
To this end, a commission, to be headed by James Baker, former Secretary of State under President George H. W. Bush, and Lee Hamilton, one time Democratic Representative from Indiana and co-chair of the 9/11 Commission, has been formed with the blessing of the Congress and the President to “study” possible shifts in strategy. One possible solution that has been proposed is a plebiscite over the continued presence of American troops in that country. Another possibility being looked at is the federalization of Iraq. In other words, each of the three major ethnic groups, the Sunnis, the Shi’a, and the Kurds, would each be in control of that area of Iraq in which they are now predominate. Whatever this commission ultimately decides, the idea that “stay the course” cannot continue as our guiding philosophy in Iraq is gaining more ground everyday.
More importantly, there is the idea that the situation on the ground is a civil war, and that the unrest, far from being controlled by Allied forces there, is being exacerbated by their presence. The most important voice to express this concern, at least recently, has been that of the British Chief of General Staff Richard Dannat, who has further said in no uncertain terms that planning for the war was “poor” and that the presence of British troops there was hurting Great Britain’s security. This opinion, which mirrors the conclusion of the recent well-publicized National Intelligence Estimate in this country, is remarkable in its divergence from the official position taken by Prime Minister Tony Blair.
There are many in this country who want to see U. S. forces withdrawn from Iraq as soon as possible. But immediate withdrawal, or a timed withdrawal might still leave Iraq unable to function effectively as a nation. It was, as you will recall, former Secretary of State and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Colin Powell, who invoked the Pottery Barn rule of warfare before the outbreak of hostilities-“You break it, you bought it.” With this in mind, any settlement would have to see complete peace restored to this nation, where one group has estimated that as many as 655,000 civilians have been killed since the start of the war. It must also include a Marshall Plan of some sort that will begin to rebuild this shattered nation’s infrastructure, so as to allow Iraqis to resume a normal life.
One thing that cannot be denied is that a major driving force behind the insurgency in this country is the view shared by many Iraqis that the Allies constitute an occupying force. Another troubling aspect for Iraqis is that the vast majority of these troops are from non-Arab, non-Islamic countries, a thing which does not sit well with the mostly religiously-conservative Muslims who make up much of Iraq’s population. And it is a surety that such perceptions, correct or not, must be addressed if this there is any chance of bringing peace to this country.
Seeing an end to the Iraqi war is vital to the region’s security, and to the world’s economic stability, and what would most likely work best is a multifaceted approach to peace that would recognize all the factors that makes obtaining a lasting peace there such a tricky proposition in the first place. First, the Allies must recognize that there is a civil war underway, and every effort must be made to halt the killing brought about by this civil unrest. To this end, the U. S., et al, must convene a high-level summit that would include the most influential leaders from every segment of Iraqi society, even leaders of the insurgency. When this summit takes place, it must be impressed upon every attendee that the killing in the country must stop, and that it would be up to the Iraqis to impose a cease-fire in this country if American troops are to ever be withdrawn.
To prove that this idea has merit, a major insurgency group in Iraq has called for just such talks with the Americans. It would behoove all interested parties to flesh out this proposition, and to begin to actively seek an end to hostilities.
At the same time, the U. S. and its allies must open talks with friendly Arab countries in the region, such as Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Kuwait, the United Arab Emirates, and any other friendly nation that would be willing to help restore stability in Iraq. The idea behind these talks would be to get together a multi-national force made up of Arabic, Islamic troops that would replace Allied troops currently in Iraq, to be brought in, in sufficient numbers, so as to be able to effectively police any cease-fire agreement reached by the warring parties there, which would presumably be in place before their deployment. This would guarantee security for Iraqi civilians, while removing a major impetus for continuing the on-going insurgency.
Once there is peace re-established in the country, the U. S. should seek assistance from other developed countries in the world to begin to repair the damage of war. This should be done with utmost dispatch. No expense should be spared when it comes to re-establishing everyday comforts destroyed by the conflict of the last three years. Nothing would spell recovery to the Iraqi people like a working electrical grid, a resumption of Iraq’s oil production, and the revenue it produces, and the presence of a police force that would allow people to go about their everyday lives without fear of the death and destruction that seems to haunt every citizen now. And having our own troops withdrawn from harm’s way would, no doubt, be as great a comfort to our own nation.
To this end, a commission, to be headed by James Baker, former Secretary of State under President George H. W. Bush, and Lee Hamilton, one time Democratic Representative from Indiana and co-chair of the 9/11 Commission, has been formed with the blessing of the Congress and the President to “study” possible shifts in strategy. One possible solution that has been proposed is a plebiscite over the continued presence of American troops in that country. Another possibility being looked at is the federalization of Iraq. In other words, each of the three major ethnic groups, the Sunnis, the Shi’a, and the Kurds, would each be in control of that area of Iraq in which they are now predominate. Whatever this commission ultimately decides, the idea that “stay the course” cannot continue as our guiding philosophy in Iraq is gaining more ground everyday.
More importantly, there is the idea that the situation on the ground is a civil war, and that the unrest, far from being controlled by Allied forces there, is being exacerbated by their presence. The most important voice to express this concern, at least recently, has been that of the British Chief of General Staff Richard Dannat, who has further said in no uncertain terms that planning for the war was “poor” and that the presence of British troops there was hurting Great Britain’s security. This opinion, which mirrors the conclusion of the recent well-publicized National Intelligence Estimate in this country, is remarkable in its divergence from the official position taken by Prime Minister Tony Blair.
There are many in this country who want to see U. S. forces withdrawn from Iraq as soon as possible. But immediate withdrawal, or a timed withdrawal might still leave Iraq unable to function effectively as a nation. It was, as you will recall, former Secretary of State and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Colin Powell, who invoked the Pottery Barn rule of warfare before the outbreak of hostilities-“You break it, you bought it.” With this in mind, any settlement would have to see complete peace restored to this nation, where one group has estimated that as many as 655,000 civilians have been killed since the start of the war. It must also include a Marshall Plan of some sort that will begin to rebuild this shattered nation’s infrastructure, so as to allow Iraqis to resume a normal life.
One thing that cannot be denied is that a major driving force behind the insurgency in this country is the view shared by many Iraqis that the Allies constitute an occupying force. Another troubling aspect for Iraqis is that the vast majority of these troops are from non-Arab, non-Islamic countries, a thing which does not sit well with the mostly religiously-conservative Muslims who make up much of Iraq’s population. And it is a surety that such perceptions, correct or not, must be addressed if this there is any chance of bringing peace to this country.
Seeing an end to the Iraqi war is vital to the region’s security, and to the world’s economic stability, and what would most likely work best is a multifaceted approach to peace that would recognize all the factors that makes obtaining a lasting peace there such a tricky proposition in the first place. First, the Allies must recognize that there is a civil war underway, and every effort must be made to halt the killing brought about by this civil unrest. To this end, the U. S., et al, must convene a high-level summit that would include the most influential leaders from every segment of Iraqi society, even leaders of the insurgency. When this summit takes place, it must be impressed upon every attendee that the killing in the country must stop, and that it would be up to the Iraqis to impose a cease-fire in this country if American troops are to ever be withdrawn.
To prove that this idea has merit, a major insurgency group in Iraq has called for just such talks with the Americans. It would behoove all interested parties to flesh out this proposition, and to begin to actively seek an end to hostilities.
At the same time, the U. S. and its allies must open talks with friendly Arab countries in the region, such as Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Kuwait, the United Arab Emirates, and any other friendly nation that would be willing to help restore stability in Iraq. The idea behind these talks would be to get together a multi-national force made up of Arabic, Islamic troops that would replace Allied troops currently in Iraq, to be brought in, in sufficient numbers, so as to be able to effectively police any cease-fire agreement reached by the warring parties there, which would presumably be in place before their deployment. This would guarantee security for Iraqi civilians, while removing a major impetus for continuing the on-going insurgency.
Once there is peace re-established in the country, the U. S. should seek assistance from other developed countries in the world to begin to repair the damage of war. This should be done with utmost dispatch. No expense should be spared when it comes to re-establishing everyday comforts destroyed by the conflict of the last three years. Nothing would spell recovery to the Iraqi people like a working electrical grid, a resumption of Iraq’s oil production, and the revenue it produces, and the presence of a police force that would allow people to go about their everyday lives without fear of the death and destruction that seems to haunt every citizen now. And having our own troops withdrawn from harm’s way would, no doubt, be as great a comfort to our own nation.
Escaping an unhappy afterlife with a ghostly good dessert.
Reading the wonderful story by APEX staff writer Carrie Moore entitled “Extending a H.E.L.P.ing Hand” in yesterday’s paper was an uplifting experience, indeed. For those who may not have seen it, it concerned the organization H.E.L.P. (Helping Our Poor Exist), ably guided by Monk Sanders, who is as ably assisted by a cadre of wonderful volunteers, such as Terry Cavins, also featured in this story.
All of this puts me in mind of the Charles Dickens classic “A Christmas Carol”, my favorite seasonal story. Specifically, the work these two are doing stir up images of the ghost of Scrooge’s dead partner, Jacob Marley, who tells the man he would reform “It is required of every man that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow men! If it goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death! It is doomed to wander through the world! Oh, woe is me! And witness what it cannot share but MIGHT HAVE SHARED on Earth and turned to happiness!”
It is all too apparent that the volunteers from H.E.L.P. will be spared from just such a fate. For those of us who should be concerned about having to wander around at Christmas, after death, with a heavy chain and lock boxes entwined about our spirits whilst trying to reform Scrooge-like individuals we will have left on this earth, I would strongly suggest that all of us either join in with Monk and his caring group, or at the very least, donate to them so that they might be better able to complete their mission here on Earth, but preferably, both. After all, it is written (and read in the Allister Simms version of this classic) in the book of I Corinthians: 2-4 “And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.”
On to other matters: One of the most vexing issues for me at this time of year is how to handle the fact that everything about the Holiday season revolves around food. In my pre-diabetic days, this was no problem. I could eat a hearty dinner at home, give the food time to begin to digest, then visit my Aunt Mae to see what her brood had in the way of tasty leftovers. My only consolation these days is all those happy memories. Alas, memories cannot keep your blood sugar at a safe level. Well, while I have made peace with the fact that my days of reckless eating are over, I refuse, as did the poet, Dylan Thomas, to “go gentle into that good night”. And by using my imagination, I have come up with a very versatile recipe for a custard-like pie that can appear in any number of incarnations, and so, be satisfying for a very long time.
I might explain that, in the first year after the d-word appeared, I felt that my only recourse for dessert was either sugar-free pudding or jell-o. I ate so much that I finally made a solemn vow to never touch either substance ever again. Well, I have been successful, but only in one respect: I won’t fix jell-o or pudding the way their makers intended, but, by trial and error (a lot of error) I have discovered that jell-o is a wonderful flavoring substance, so I do use it to give both sweetness and flavor to pies, cakes, and cuppie cakes (Thanks and a tip of the hat to Cookie Monster for that last one.) That said, I will now tell all diabetics, weight watchers, and epicureans in general, how to make that wonderful, custard-like pie I spoke of earlier.
This pie, while rather easy, at least in my mind, to make, does take some time, and requires that the ingredients be assembled beforehand to help expedite the process. So, to start, the cook needs to get three eggs out, and separate the whites from the yolks. The yolks will need to be lightly beaten with a fork at this time.
Next, we will work under the assumption that this is going to be a peach pie. With that in mind, you will need to get an eight-ounce container of non-fat, light, peach yogurt. Dump this into a two-cup measuring vessel, and add enough skim milk to make one and one-half cups of liquid. Into this mess, you must now add the first magic ingredient, a tablespoon of corn starch.
The next step involves that yucky sugar-free jell-o I spoke of earlier. For peach pie, you will need to get a bottle of peach-flavored, no-calorie water, available almost everywhere, and, setting out ¼ cup of this stuff, mix it with one packet of sugar-free, peach flavored jell-o, and set it back for later.
This might be a good time to mention that the cooking will need to be done in a double-boiler, so whilst the water is set a boil in the business end of this contraption, the solution obtained thus far could now be transferred to the top of the double-boiler, and here you can add the next magic ingredient-3/4 cup of Splenda. This will now need to be cooked until such time as it begins to thicken. A good rule of thumb is to cook and stir for about ten minutes.
Once you are satisfied with the thickness of the pie-filling, you can add those egg yolks which you have already lightly beaten, pausing only long enough to add a little of the hot mixture to them first, so as to temper them. This done, the mixture can be allowed to cook by itself for at least four minutes. Once the requisite amount of time has passed, you may now remove the filling from the stove, stir in the peach jell-o; and about half of an eight-ounce bowl of still-frozen Light Cool Whip. Place this in the freezer until it begins to set, say ½ to ¾ of an hour.
In the meantime, beat the egg whites to the stiff peak stage. Once the pie filling has cooled sufficiently, gently fold the two together, and pour this into a 9-inch graham-cracker pie crust (buy this for greater ease of construction), and place the now completed peach pie into your freezer until set, usually ½ to ¾ of an hour. The result will be an eye-catching and toothsome, low-calorie dessert that would satisfy even those non-diabetics among us. The best part is this, you can substitute any flavor of jell-o and yogurt-say strawberry/banana jell-o, yogurt, and flavored water-and you have, well, strawberry/banana pie. This works equally well with lemon, lime, strawberry, etc. Experiment with this pie, and you will have a stand-by dessert for all year ‘round. This is a gift that keeps on giving, eh?
Merry Christmas, and Happy Motoring!
All of this puts me in mind of the Charles Dickens classic “A Christmas Carol”, my favorite seasonal story. Specifically, the work these two are doing stir up images of the ghost of Scrooge’s dead partner, Jacob Marley, who tells the man he would reform “It is required of every man that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow men! If it goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death! It is doomed to wander through the world! Oh, woe is me! And witness what it cannot share but MIGHT HAVE SHARED on Earth and turned to happiness!”
It is all too apparent that the volunteers from H.E.L.P. will be spared from just such a fate. For those of us who should be concerned about having to wander around at Christmas, after death, with a heavy chain and lock boxes entwined about our spirits whilst trying to reform Scrooge-like individuals we will have left on this earth, I would strongly suggest that all of us either join in with Monk and his caring group, or at the very least, donate to them so that they might be better able to complete their mission here on Earth, but preferably, both. After all, it is written (and read in the Allister Simms version of this classic) in the book of I Corinthians: 2-4 “And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.”
On to other matters: One of the most vexing issues for me at this time of year is how to handle the fact that everything about the Holiday season revolves around food. In my pre-diabetic days, this was no problem. I could eat a hearty dinner at home, give the food time to begin to digest, then visit my Aunt Mae to see what her brood had in the way of tasty leftovers. My only consolation these days is all those happy memories. Alas, memories cannot keep your blood sugar at a safe level. Well, while I have made peace with the fact that my days of reckless eating are over, I refuse, as did the poet, Dylan Thomas, to “go gentle into that good night”. And by using my imagination, I have come up with a very versatile recipe for a custard-like pie that can appear in any number of incarnations, and so, be satisfying for a very long time.
I might explain that, in the first year after the d-word appeared, I felt that my only recourse for dessert was either sugar-free pudding or jell-o. I ate so much that I finally made a solemn vow to never touch either substance ever again. Well, I have been successful, but only in one respect: I won’t fix jell-o or pudding the way their makers intended, but, by trial and error (a lot of error) I have discovered that jell-o is a wonderful flavoring substance, so I do use it to give both sweetness and flavor to pies, cakes, and cuppie cakes (Thanks and a tip of the hat to Cookie Monster for that last one.) That said, I will now tell all diabetics, weight watchers, and epicureans in general, how to make that wonderful, custard-like pie I spoke of earlier.
This pie, while rather easy, at least in my mind, to make, does take some time, and requires that the ingredients be assembled beforehand to help expedite the process. So, to start, the cook needs to get three eggs out, and separate the whites from the yolks. The yolks will need to be lightly beaten with a fork at this time.
Next, we will work under the assumption that this is going to be a peach pie. With that in mind, you will need to get an eight-ounce container of non-fat, light, peach yogurt. Dump this into a two-cup measuring vessel, and add enough skim milk to make one and one-half cups of liquid. Into this mess, you must now add the first magic ingredient, a tablespoon of corn starch.
The next step involves that yucky sugar-free jell-o I spoke of earlier. For peach pie, you will need to get a bottle of peach-flavored, no-calorie water, available almost everywhere, and, setting out ¼ cup of this stuff, mix it with one packet of sugar-free, peach flavored jell-o, and set it back for later.
This might be a good time to mention that the cooking will need to be done in a double-boiler, so whilst the water is set a boil in the business end of this contraption, the solution obtained thus far could now be transferred to the top of the double-boiler, and here you can add the next magic ingredient-3/4 cup of Splenda. This will now need to be cooked until such time as it begins to thicken. A good rule of thumb is to cook and stir for about ten minutes.
Once you are satisfied with the thickness of the pie-filling, you can add those egg yolks which you have already lightly beaten, pausing only long enough to add a little of the hot mixture to them first, so as to temper them. This done, the mixture can be allowed to cook by itself for at least four minutes. Once the requisite amount of time has passed, you may now remove the filling from the stove, stir in the peach jell-o; and about half of an eight-ounce bowl of still-frozen Light Cool Whip. Place this in the freezer until it begins to set, say ½ to ¾ of an hour.
In the meantime, beat the egg whites to the stiff peak stage. Once the pie filling has cooled sufficiently, gently fold the two together, and pour this into a 9-inch graham-cracker pie crust (buy this for greater ease of construction), and place the now completed peach pie into your freezer until set, usually ½ to ¾ of an hour. The result will be an eye-catching and toothsome, low-calorie dessert that would satisfy even those non-diabetics among us. The best part is this, you can substitute any flavor of jell-o and yogurt-say strawberry/banana jell-o, yogurt, and flavored water-and you have, well, strawberry/banana pie. This works equally well with lemon, lime, strawberry, etc. Experiment with this pie, and you will have a stand-by dessert for all year ‘round. This is a gift that keeps on giving, eh?
Merry Christmas, and Happy Motoring!
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