Month: October 2021

This is another Sunday Story – no politics – just some tales from my backpacking days!

Housekeeping

“Housekeeping” notes from Our America.  

Many of you access Our America through Facebook.  I know that some are concerned about the impact Facebook is having on “Our America” and the world, and are considering dropping the platform.  There are several other ways to access “Our America” besides Facebook.  You can link through Twitter at @martydahlman. Or you can subscribe to the WordPress site – www.dahlman.online (click the register button on the side menu).  Or you can be “really special” and join the select few that get their essays emailed directly to them – just email me at dahlman@aol.com and I’ll put you on the list.  

To the moment (who’s counting) I’ve written 1,171 essays – and I don’t think I’m going to stop soon (why do I write like I’m running out of time?).  If YOU would like to “try your hand” on “Our America” as a guest essayist, I’d be honored.  Just a few guidelines:

• essays should be around 1000 words – 
• this is not a forum for personal attack (though politicians might argue the point)
• I reserve the right to decline to publish any essay – for my own reasons
• While the essay will be published as a guest essay and I will know who wrote it, 
• You can choose not to have your name published (I get it).
• Keep it moderately clean – it’s a family “show”.
• Yes, I was a teacher, and No, I won’t be grading your “work”
• And if you and I disagree – that’s OK, alternative views are absolutely allowed. 

And finally, thanks for reading “Our America”!!!!!

Boots

I learned to hike in the Boy Scouts.  We started out on five-milers at Scout camp, marching the hills and woods of Woodland Trails near Eaton, Ohio.  At eleven I learned why checking those “hot spots” on your feet were so important – they never, ever seemed to get better on their own.  You need to get a piece of “mole skin”, a thin felt pad with an adhesive backing, over the red spot, soonest.  By the way, I later learned that duct tape worked too. Fix it early, or find a blister later, when a lot more elaborate first aid  is needed.  But either way, you were finishing the hike!

Two pairs of socks worked, a thin cotton layer under a thick wool pair.  The cotton absorbs the sweat, the wool absorbs the effort.  And dry feet, to this day, dry feet are so much better to stomping in the wet.  Wet feet feel bad, get soft, and end up blistered for sure.  So a good pair of boots, supportive, well fitted, water resistance and broken-in are essential. 

How important were good boots for me?  Well for my high school graduation present, I asked for a serious pair of hiking boots.  My Raichle mountain boots cost more than $100 in 1974, a huge amount of money for boots at the time.  But they let me hike ANYWHERE – snow and rock, dirt and swamp.  And they lasted well into the 1990’s.  When they finally died, it wasn’t from bad leather – it was from worn out soles and no “cobblers” left in the world to replace them.

Hooked on Wilderness

In my last summer in Dayton, Ohio, my Scout Troop (229) sent a crew to the “High Adventure” base in the mountains near Philmont, New Mexico.  I was thirteen, technically too young for Philmont, but I talked myself onto on the crew (persuasive even then).  We hiked maybe seventy miles over several days.  The first days were tough with a forty-five pound backpack at elevation, but by the end I was “hooked” on backpacking, and the wilderness.

We moved to Cincinnati, and a new Scout Troop, 819 in Wyoming.  I ran into a group that loved to backpack, both the kids and more importantly, the adults.  We hiked parts of the Appalachian Trail in North Carolina and Tennessee, and north in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.  And we found trails in the mountains of Pennsylvania (I wrote about one of those experiences, Hiking with Jack).  

We went out to the high plateaus and mountains of Colorado, and up into the summer snow of the Maroon Bells above Aspen.  But we also found closer places, like the Red River Gorge in Kentucky.  And a bit farther south, we hiked a trail along the Kentucky/Tennessee border near Cumberland Gap National Park.  It was a “two-day” hike called the Mischa Mokwa Trail.

Mischa Mokwa

I’ve hiked the trail twice, once with the troop and once on my own.  It’s about twenty miles long, starting off near US Route 58  and Shawanee, Tennessee. The trail goes up across the state line into Kentucky, and heads east along the ridgeline.  At the end it comes south off the ridge, across a state line again, this time into Virginia, and ends near the small village of Ewing.

The first time with the troop was a good two-day backpack trip.  We drove one car to the Ewing end, to shuttle kids back to the trailhead at Shawanee, about a fifteen mile drive.  Our big adventure – what to do about the rattlesnake wrapped around the trail post sign, right beside the path.  You won’t go back, and you can’t go forward (especially with kids). Going around isn’t good either, as rattlesnakes often come in pairs.  Better to deal with the snake you can see, than the one you don’t!!

It was a big stick, a really big stick, that did the trick.  We picked the snake up, and launched it into woods.  Then we hustled the troop along the way.  A pissed off rattler isn’t going to chase you, but getting far away from that shaking tail is a really good idea.  

Solo 

When I was in college, I drove back down in my Volkswagen “Squareback” to hike the trail on my own. A little over halfway there’s Brush Mountain with an abandoned town, called the Hensley Settlement. It was founded in the late 1800’s, and once had a population of near 100. There is a school house (more of a log cabin), a store, and a “spring” house; though there was also a big sign saying that the spring water wasn’t drinkable.

The Great Depression drove folks down the mountain looking for work, and the young men went off to World War II and found a whole different world to live in.  The last Hensley left the mountain in 1951.  The Park took over the settlement, and in the sixties began restoring buildings.  

Today it’s a “living museum” to Appalachian settlement, and if you go when it’s “open” there are folks talking about the way people lived.  But when I was backpacking through, it was after hours.  I had the entire settlement to myself, walking down the dirt street, looking in the buildings, all set for life – with no one there.  It was un-nerving:  a town “all dressed” up, but no life around.  

You’re not supposed to camp at Hensley, but I don’t think I’d want to do that anyway.  I don’t worry about wildlife camping in the wilderness, you take the proper precautions and bears pretty much leave you alone.  Raccoons can be annoying – but they’re a nuisance, not a danger.  But I do worry about people – and an empty town would just be too much.  I wouldn’t sleep.

Thumbing Back

The next day I finished, picking my way down the steep trail off the ridge and back into the valley. I ended up in Ewing, and began looking for a way back to the trailhead and my Squareback, about fifteen miles away. It was the 1970’s and “hitch-hiking” was still an OK thing to do. I had friends in college who travelled the country, by “thumbing rides”. So I walked over to US 58, and stuck my thumb out.

Even though I was a dirty hiker with a bush of unkempt hair and a bandanna, it didn’t take too long for someone to pull over.  It was a couple of guys my age, in a 1967 Mustang with Tennessee plates.  I threw my pack in the trunk, and climbed into the back seat.  The “boys” wanted to give me a “Tennessee ride”, to see what this “Northern boy” might do.  We screamed down the road, with the speedometer needle pushing 120.  What took me two days of steady hiking to cover, took less than a half an hour.  

I think I gave the “boys” what they wanted – an excuse to drive crazy, and a look of terror as we screamed around the turns. But we made it back to the entrance of the trailhead parking lot, and my Volkswagen Squareback. It had a top speed of seventy miles an hour, going downhill! After that “Tennessee Ride” I was pretty happy with that.

The Sunday Story Series

• Riding the Dog  – 1/24/21
• Hiking with Jack – 1/31/21
• A Track Story – 2/7/21
• Ritual – 2/14/21
• Voyageur – 2/19/21
• A Dog Story – 2/25/21
• A Watkins Legend – 3/7/21
• Ghosts at Gettysburg – 3/14/21
• Lessons from the State Meet – 3/28/21
• More Lessons from the State – 4/4/21
• Stories from the Road – 4/11/21
• A Bear Wants You – 5/1/21
• My Teachers – 5/9/21
• Old Friends  – 5/23/21
• The Gift – 6/6/21
• Echoes of Mom – 6/20/21
• Stories of the Fourth – 7/3/21
• Running Memories – 7/25/21
• Lost Dog of Eldora – 8/1/21
• Dogs and Medals – 8/8/21
• The New Guy – 9/5/21
• Stories of 9-11 – 9/12/21
• The Interview – 9/26/21
• Night Moves – 10/3/21
• Funeral for a Friend – 10/11/21
• National Security – 10/24/21
• Boots on the Trail – 10/31/21

Commitment

The most patient friend I ever had often used the phrase, “You’re either on the bus, or you’re off the bus”. It was her way of explaining commitment – either you are in, or you’re not.  Or, as Mr. Miyagi of Karate Kid fame said, “Karate Yes, Ok. Karate No, Ok.  Karate, Maybe – squish, just like grape”.  

But, as we all know, President Biden is not a “bus guy”, and probably doesn’t do Karate. Biden is a “train guy”. For thirty years as a US Senator, he rode the train from his home in Wilmington, Delaware to Washington to work, every day. It was about an hour and a half, one way, and now costs $39 for a round trip ticket.

Biden originally did it so that he could be home with his kids each evening. But ultimately enjoyed the work time on the train, and the opportunity to sleep in his own bed each night. He would probably take the train home today, but the Secret Service can’t secure the route for Presidential use without disrupting the whole network.

Leaving the Station

President Biden didn’t tell Congressional Democrats to “get on the bus” yesterday as he tried to close the infra-structure, “Build-Back-Better” deal. Nope – he told them essentially to “Get on Board, the Biden Build-Back-Better train is leaving the station”. Some Democrats hesitated again, making the Party of the New Deal and the Great Society look like a bunch of squabbling seventh graders. But the Presidential message, delivered in person to the House Democrats and on television to the Nation, was clear. The “framework” for the “deal” is done. You can nit-pick some details, but here’s the train, ready to leave the station. Democrats: whether Socialists, Progressives, Liberals, Moderates, a West Virginia conservative or whatever Kyrsten Sinema is (a Progressive in the pocket of big Pharma); must get on board.

If they do, then the Democratic Party can present to the nation improved Medicare and health care, education and housing, immigration and tax credits.  And more importantly, Democrats can honestly say they are taking care of the future. Or, as Speaker Pelosi would say, “the children, the children, the children”.  In the “package” is guaranteed pre-school for every child, affordable day-care, and most importantly, the biggest national investment in our climate and clean energy in history, over $500 Billion.  

Campaign Message

And after passing the plan, Democrats can say they did it without a single Republican vote.  The Democratic Party will be the Party that got something done to make America better, for ourselves and the children.  And what about the Republican Party? Well they will be the Party that stood against climate, against children, against tax relief for the middle and lower class, and against hearing aids for senior citizens.  Oh yeah, and the Party that gave all the rich guys a tax break.

Or four House and three Senate Democrats can guarantee a Republican Congress in 2022, and perhaps a Republican White House in 2024.  

Closing the Deal

Four House Democrats are the “moderate” Dems, struggling to make the “Build-Back-Better” deal.  They are all for the smaller “bipartisan” Infra-structure deal (though hardly bipartisan in the House), but all “a-twitter” about the bigger package.  They need to get over that, and find their seat in the “club car”:  the train whistle is blowing.

And three Senators:  the conservative Democrat from West Virginia and the confused Democrat from Arizona.  The plan has been crafted specifically to their wants and desires.  They already have a “first class” seat on the train.  They need to take their winnings and get on board.  After the vote, they can go home and campaign, telling their constituents how important they are, and why they should be returned to Washington.  And they’ll be right.

The Conductor

Oh, I did say three Senators.  We haven’t talked about the “Independent” Democrat from Vermont, Bernie Sanders.  Bernie is telling his Progressive colleagues in both the House and the Senate, not to vote for the “bipartisan” deal without having the “Build-Back-Better” deal in hand.  He doesn’t trust those four House members, and more importantly, Manchin and Sinema.  

He’s afraid they are “train-jumpers”.  They’ll take the bipartisan deal then all of a sudden come up with some excuse to leave the rest behind, and kill the Build-Back-Better, much larger package.  And he’s got every reason to be concerned.  

If Joe Biden is the engineer driving this train, then Bernie Sanders is the angry (isn’t he always angry?) conductor on the platform, driving passengers into the cars so they can all depart.  He’s not leaving any baggage left behind, so he’s making sure everyone is on board, for the whole trip.  It’s not often I feel like Bernie Sanders is a “Democratic Leader,” but on this one he’s right.  Better to hold the train up, even for a few more days, than fail.  Or worse, to pass the small package, and get tricked into leaving the “Biden Plan” behind.

What’s At Stake

It’s not just about the future of the world climate.  Or about getting kids the best opportunity to succeed in the 21st Century.  Or even fixing the bridges that are falling down, the roads that are dissolving, or the airports that are overcrowded and delayed.

It’s about assuring the nation that there is a reasonable alternative to the Party of the Insurrection. That the “squabbling” Democrats, in the end, can govern. And on that, may hang the fate of our Democracy.

Get on Board. 

Since 1800

Dirty politics has been around for a long time.  Last week, I pointed out “dirty” campaigning of the early 1800’s (Monticellian Sally), as the nation dealt with its first major ideological split.  The differences between the Federalist Party and the Democratic-Republicans were deeply held and often ugly.  They also sometimes became tragic.  Vice President of the United States Aaron Burr, a Democratic-Republican, and former Secretary of the Treasury Alexander Hamilton, a leading Federalist, had long standing personal issues.  But the political differences made the personal animus even worse, leading to the spectacle of the next in line to the Presidency killing a leader of the opposition party in a dual in New Jersey (“everything’s legal in Jersey”). 

Mike Pence didn’t shoot Nancy Pelosi, and Kamala Harris isn’t counting off against Steve Mnuchin:  so I guess things could be worse.  But we certainly are in another era where all’s fair in love, war, and politics.  And it’s not only on the national level.

Etna

The current political ugliness, where truth is often a casualty of potential political profit, extends to local politics here.  Etna Township, a division of Licking County in Central Ohio just east of Columbus, is in the middle of as ugly a campaign as I’ve seen for a very long time.  What used to be insults and innuendo in the newspapers is now full blown attacks – and it’s all on Facebook for the world to see.  

Etna faces some very real issues.  What was a rural community a half-century ago, farms divided by I-70 and US 40 with soybeans on one side and corn on the other, is long gone.  Now Etna, adjacent to Franklin County and “next up” in the ever-expanding Columbus metro area, is dealing with competing visions of growth. 

Powers

The “old power” of Etna are the remaining farmers.  There are still great tracts of land in the township planted in crops.  And, as one of those farmers put it to me, the land is their retirement plan.  They don’t have 401-K’s chock full of investments.  They have their acres, and those acres are worth so much more as suburban housing or giant Amazon-style warehouses than as fields of corn. So they want to sell, and head to Florida, or farther out in the countryside where they can buy five acres for every one acre here.

The “new power” are those suburban voters, “newcomers” to Etna, but in our one-person, one-vote system, able to out-vote the “older” residents.  The “newcomers” wanted to move “out in the country”, though the “country” has long passed by most of this community.  A half-century ago there was a “tractor day” at the local high school: everyone brought their own. Now only a very few kids can tell the difference between a Massey-Ferguson and a John Deere.  

And in the center of the dual interest are the three Township Trustees, who hold the power to determine what zoning is allowed, and what can be built.   The current trustees are committed to industrializing large portions of the former fields.  Like the outskirts of many large cities in the United States in our era, industrialization means warehouses.

Visions

The suburban “newcomers” had a “vision” of what their community should be. And that vision didn’t include dozens of semi-trucks lined up on the local highways, waiting for their turn at the loading dock of a mile’s long warehouse structure. But that’s what they got. Etna Township now has multiple “giant” warehouses: Amazon (two), Kohls, the Ascena Group, FedEx (almost completed) and some giant project called “the Cubes”. Oh, and a new truck stop on the interchange (Loves) as well as soon to open Starbucks and Chipotle. The state is rebuilding US 40, the National Road, but the rest of the county roads are groaning under the weight of fully loaded semis delivering their goods. We even have a local “gas price bubble”. Our prices are hiked by a line of little Amazon vans lining up to refill: supply and demand in microcosm.

And it’s not just the warehouses.  What kind of suburban growth should there be in Etna?  When the farmer sells his one-hundred acres, does that equal one-hundred homes with acre lots, or four-hundred homes on quarter-acres? Or, “heaven forbid”, apartments –  almost everyone opposed to that – with all the racial undertones involved.  It’s up to the three township trustees to decide.  

As you might expect, this much growth creates financial questions as well, and it’s not just for the remaining farmers.  So much money is flooding into “little Etna”, that it raises concerns about who is benefitting or pocketing.  

Trustees

So we have the two current trustees up for re-election, one with decades in the township and the other a life-long Etna resident.  And we have “suburban insurgents” running against them.  For the current trustees, it’s been business as usual – a small government that nobody used to care about, doing their best to take care of the “voices” they listen to – mostly the old power structure.  And for the “insurgent” candidates, it’s claims of corruption and “selling out” what Etna was supposed to be.

How ugly is it?  Campaigns used to be waged in the local paper, The Pataskala Standard.  The Standard moderated the debate; if things got too far out of control Tom Caw, the editor, would simply not print it.   But Mr. Caw and the Standard are in the past. Now the campaigns are waged in social media, specifically in this community, on Facebook.  There is no moderation, no filter.  Sitting at the keyboard folks feel that they can say anything they want, without regard.  I call it the “punch in the nose” rule.  If you said some of those things twenty years ago, you would get punched in the nose.  But the keyboard and screen protects you from that kind of personal responsibility.  

So folks say everything.  We know about bankruptcies and how marriages broke up.  We even have fake entities “weighing in”.  One side created a new Facebook page claiming to be a “free online news publication” about Licking County politics.  The page then solemnly intones “endorsements”, as if they were The New York Times or the Wall Street Journal.  But they have only existed since yesterday (literally), and no actual names are associated with it.

Impact

It isn’t just the “fate” of Etna Township at stake.  Etna is part of a greater Western Licking County, all countryside being subsumed by metro Columbus.  How many kids will be in the schools, how many Sheriff Department cruisers will be on the roads, how many more sewer pipes will be laid:  it impacts all of us nearby, not just those in the Etna boundaries.  So while I don’t have a “vote” in Etna; what happens there will affect me as well.  Whoever ends up as Township Trustee, a part-time job that pays $22,000 a year, will also inherit the ugliness of this campaign.  That, the competing power interests and the real problems of growth, won’t be going away anytime soon.  

The “winners” will earn every dollar.

Everybody Loves a Clown

It became the national joke.  “America’s Mayor”, Rudy Giuliani, held a press conference at the “Four Seasons” in Philadelphia.  Not at the world famous hotel – but in the parking lot of a gardening center. It was right beside an adult “book” store.  Later, there was another “sweaty” press conference at the Washington headquarters of the Republican National Committee.  He quoted from the movie My Cousin Vinnie with hair dye streaking down his face.  And there was his drunk witness testifying to a friendly state legislative committee in Lansing, Michigan.

There were scores of lawsuits, literally laughed out of court at every level, even the Supreme Court. Texas’s Lt .Governor offered rewards for voter fraud. He had to pay off -for fraudulent Trump votes. It was all a “clown show”, not to take seriously. But like so much of the world around Donald Trump, while the clowns were stealing the show out front, something sinister was going on in the background.

Tears of a Clown

The signs were there soon after the election. The “vengeance” tour: firing various officers in the Executive Branch who earned Trump’s ire prior to the election. He removed the civilian leadership of the Defense Department and replaced them with folks whose main qualification was undying loyalty to Trump. There was the drumbeat of the “Stop the Steal” campaign, ginning up “masses” against the very foundation of America’s democracy, free and fair elections. Trump campaign fundraising generated even more millions. That money was directed to mass demonstrations in Washington and across the country, demanding that the results of the election be overturned.

And there were all of those political leaders who refused to simply acknowledge the results. From McConnell and McCarthy to multiple state Governors, they couldn’t say Biden won.  What we didn’t know, was in the background there was a “legal theorist” creating a structure for denying the electoral will of the nation.  The Trump strategists attempted to delay the final certification by Congress. They tried to build more pressure on the state Governors and legislators to ignore the actual votes, and give the election to Trump. If they only had more time – they thought – they could keep Donald Trump in the White House.

Send in the Clowns

Even on January 6th there still were “clowns” up front. Congressman Mo Brooks was calling on the crowd to “kick ass”. He thought things might get crazy, so he wore “body armor” just in case. And Don Jr, Congressman Madison Cawthorn, and the head clown Giuliani himself was there, as well as the biggest clown of all, President Donald Trump.

But the “realist” in the bunch of speakers that day was lawyer John Eastman. He was the author of the legal “structure” to justify changing the outcome. It was Eastman who wanted Vice President Pence to throw out the electoral votes from Pennsylvania, Georgia, Nevada and Arizona. And it was Eastman trying to persuade Senators to go along with his legal fantasy.

This week the curtain is getting pulled back.  It’s being revealed that “The Insurrection” was not simply a mob gone wild.  There was a strategy with multiple options, all based on delaying the Congressional certification of the election.  It was all about gaining time to gain momentum. One way or another, Donald Trump,would remain in the White House after the Inauguration.

And before my more right-wing friends claim that I’m pulling out my Foil Hat (not my clown wig), much of this section is also described in the Rolling Stone article of October 24th and the book by Woodward and Costa – Peril.

Clown Posse

There were multiple possibilities, but the “primary” plan was Eastman’s.  His legal brief stated that the Vice President had the Constitutional authority to accept or reject state electoral ballots.  He, along with multiple Congressmen and a few Senators, hoped that when Trump-friendly House and Senate members objected to the electoral ballots from the pivotal states, Pence would reject those ballots outright. He then could accept “alternative” ballots supporting Trump. Or he could reject all the ballots from those states, denying any Presidential candidate the 270 vote majority needed.  

That would throw the election into the “tie-breaking” House of Representatives.  Rather than vote by Representative, the vote is taken by state, with a majority of states choosing the President.  Since the minority Republicans controlled twenty-six state delegations, Trump would remain President.

But should Pence be unwilling to take on such powers (Eastman was the only Constitutional lawyer proposing he had them) there was an alternative.  If “the mob” could postpone the Electoral certification, perhaps enough pressure could be put on the Republican governors of Georgia and Arizona to withdraw their electoral ballots. Or pressure could be exerted on the Republican legislatures of Arizona, Georgia, Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin to overturn their own election results.  Either way, the resulting chaos might cause the election to end up in the House of Representatives.

Death of a Clown

Then there was a final, “nuclear” option.  If the Insurrection was so devastating that the Capitol remained occupied, then the President could turn to the US military to “retake the building”.  Martial law could be declared and Congress prevented from acting.  That’s why the “vengeance tour” of the Pentagon was more than just getting back at Mark Esper and his crew.

President Trump would order his new Acting Secretary of Defense to send in the 82nd Airborne or some such force to “regain control”, and his loyalists at Defense would do it. And with the military now directly involved, who knows how that would end. Coincidentally, pardoned felon Mike Flynn proposed a similar idea a few weeks before at a White House meeting. (This was reported in January, and was the subject of an essay here, Seven Days in December). And even more coincidentally, his brother, General Charles Flynn, was part of the Defense Department “command team” during the crisis.

Most Generals, led by Chairman Milley, were particularly concerned about this possible use of active duty forces during the Presidential transition. It will be up to the House January 6th Committee to find the real story of the planning leading up to January 6th, and what was actually intended that day on the Mall when the mob was sent to the Capitol. 

 One thing for sure – they weren’t clowning around.

A Black President

When I was in my twenties it was hard to imagine that a Black man could be President of the United States.  Actually, it was still unbelievable when I was in my late forties at the turn of this century (boy – does that make it sound like a long, long time ago).  And while I don’t blame President Obama, I do think that part of the polarization of the nation occurred because so many Americans weren’t ready, and maybe never would be ready for a President of color.  

But the road to Barack Obama was paved by many heroic figures, and foremost among them was Colin Powell.  General Powell, as he wanted to be addressed, died last week.  And, as is befitting our polarized times, even in death Powell became both a force for education, and a force of division.

Example to the End

We all knew that the General had prostate cancer in the 2003.  He was a role model for men, as he immediately and openly dealt with the disease, and underwent surgery.  What lasting effects prostate removal had on Colin Powell we don’t know, but he came back to a full life, including continuing his service as Secretary of State for President George W. Bush.  But what we didn’t know was that in the last years, he had both Parkinson’s Disease and multiple myeloma, a form of blood cancer.  

So when the fully vaccinated Powell died of Covid complications, the right-wing media were hot on the subject.  “The vaccines don’t work” they cried, “look at Powell”.  But the reality was that Powell was susceptible, even though vaccinated, due to the effects of both the cancer and its treatments.  His immune system was compromised, making him easy prey for the disease in spite of vaccination.  Powell’s fate highlights the reason that everyone else needs to get vaccinated:  to reduce exposure for those most susceptible.

An American Story

We’ve all heard the Colin Powell story:  born of Jamaican immigrants in New York City, he went to New York public schools and attended CCNY (City College of New York).  There he participated in the ROTC program, and became an Army Officer in 1958.  He served twice in Vietnam, first as a Lieutenant early in the War when he was wounded, then later as a Major. 

 Powell worked his way up the ranks, receiving his first “star” as a Brigadier General in 1979.  He served multiple roles both in the military and out:  as Deputy and then National Security Advisor, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and Secretary of State.  He received his fourth “star” in 1989, making him a full General months before becoming the Chairman.

As JCS Chairman he oversaw both the invasion of Panama, and the First Persian Gulf War.  It was Powell who helped developed the two pronged assault into Iraq. And Powell also advised President George HW Bush to NOT overthrow Saddam Hussein because it would destabilize the region. 

He directly served four American Presidents:  Reagan, GHW Bush, Clinton, and GW Bush.

A Good Soldier

Powell was the first Black man to serve as National Security Advisor, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and Secretary of State.  Throughout his military career he was non-political, but after he retired from the military in 1993, he affiliated with the Republican Party.  He considered running for President himself in 1996, but felt that threats to himself and his family created too high a risk.  

As Secretary of State for President George W Bush,  Powell’s reputation in the Nation and World was so powerful, that the President virtually ordered him to present the “evidence” of Iraqi weapons of mass destruction to the United Nations.  As it turned out, the “evidence” was slanted, biased by Vice President Cheney to support the conclusion of invading Iraq.  But Powell, a soldier trained to  follow the orders of his Commander-in-Chief, delivered the message, and got the  United Nations’ backing for the Second Persian Gulf War.

A Giant

There is a quote from Sir Isaac Newton:

“If I have seen farther then it is because I am standing on the shoulders of giants.”  

Powell stood of the shoulders of other Black men who fought their way up the military chain of command to rise to General.  Powell rose above them, reaching the pinnacle of military service as Chairman, and also the highest levels of Government as Secretary of State.  And Powell “softened the ground” politically.  Like Dwight Eisenhower, Powell would have been a serious contender for President for either political party.  

That acceptance by many Americans made it conceivable for the first time that a Black person could be President – leading to the historic candidacy of Barack Obama.  America lost a giant last week, but the results of his career will continue to benefit our nation, as others “stand on his shoulders”.   

This is another in the Sunday Story series. No political implications here, just some stories about National Security from a Son of a Spy.

Son of a Spy

I didn’t know it until I was fourteen – but I was a son of a — spy.  Mom was a part of Special Operations Executive (SOE) in World War II.  They were Churchill’s personal spy group, specifically trained to sabotage and disrupt Nazi controlled Europe.  Their goal was to keep hope alive, distract Nazi troops, and prepare for the eventual Allied invasion.  Many of the SOE agents were killed in the war, but Mom was a survivor.  I’ve written several stories about her missions, and she told many stories as well (Dahlman Papers).

But she was also under the restriction of the British Official Secrets Act.   It prevented her from discussing her activities for twenty-five years.  The War ended in 1945, so it was 1970, the summer I turned fourteen, that she began to open up about her past.  It’s one of those times that I remember – exactly.  We were driving in our 1964 Ford station wagon, a “Country Squire” with the fake wood paneling on the side, down the Dixie Highway just South of our home in Dayton, Ohio.  Mom may have been a spy, but she didn’t drive (another secret, and one I don’t think I really got to the bottom of, something about a horrific wreck in 1942).  So my sister Terry was driving, and I was in the back seat.

About Mom

Mom started to reveal her past.  It was kind of, to use a 60’s expression, “mind blowing” experience.  This little lady with the English accent (I was already five inches taller) was talking about jumping out of burning airplanes, learning secret codes, and blowing up troop trains. And later, Dad verified (of course we asked) what he knew, though he learned some of  Mom’s “secrets” for the first time as well.  And I do think there are stories Mom took to the grave, so difficult that she didn’t want to remember them anymore. 

Spying, and secrets, and national security was in my “blood”.  I’ve already told a lot of Mom’s stories.  So, here are some stories about my “brushes” with National Security over the years, beyond the amazing stories Mom told us.

Out for a Ride

Like a lot of teenaged boys before they get driver’s licenses, my bicycle represented my freedom.  By the time I was twelve I had a serious “touring” bike, a ten-speed Raleigh.  And I had no fear about riding that bike everywhere.  At one point, when we’d moved to Cincinnati, I went out for a Saturday ride, and ended up back in Dayton.  When I called home from the Dayton Mall to let them know where I was, my parents were confident enough to tell me to have a safe ride home.  That was the first time I rode 100 miles in a day.

But we were still living in Dayton when I went out for a ride “in the country”.  I was headed out  towards Oxford, home of Miami University where my sister Terry was enrolled.  I tried to avoid the major highways (there’s another story about getting blown off the road by a passing semi), and in that age before “Siri” directions, I often had a county map tucked in my belt. 

Mutual Assured Destruction

So on some back road in Preble County, I was cruising along between corn and soybean fields, when I saw something coming out of the ground.  I braked to a halt, as the tip of a missile came up from in a concrete lined hole, and slowly rose to ground level.  It was not a “toy”, it was a full sized Minuteman missile like the ones I saw at the Air Force Museum back in Dayton.  Steam rose from the engine, but it didn’t look like it was going to launch. 

Maybe it was a drill, or they were giving the missile a bath, or maybe just airing out the silo.  But there, in the middle of a field in western Ohio, was a part of the United States’ nuclear deterrent, a missile poised to launch at whatever enemy dared to threaten the US. And back then there was only one nuclear threat, the Soviet Union.

I realized this probably wasn’t a “spectator event”.  Whatever was happening, a fourteen year old kid on a bike probably wasn’t in the “security protocol”.  So I stood on the pedals and got out of there, waiting for the launch behind me, or the military MP’s in Jeeps to track me down.  And for the rest of the ride there was one additional worry.  Missiles were up, was our way of life and world as we know it about to change?  The dark joke was, “Moscow in flames, bombs on the way, film at eleven.” Would I even make it to Oxford before the end?

Driving from Cleveland

In 1974 I was still in high school, driving my “original” car, a 1969 Plymouth Fury III.  The Plymouth was a great first car, a “boat” with bench seats for six, or eight, or even more in a crunch.  I was as senior, driving by myself from my sister’s in Cleveland back home to Cincinnati on a Sunday morning after breakfast.  My only listening choice was AM Radio.  I did have an FM radio in the Fury, but at that time FM signals didn’t travel very far.  On the long stretches of I-71 through the Ohio countryside, the only entertainment was WLW radio, the “clear channel” station from Cincinnati.

There wasn’t a Bengals game that day, they were playing the Dolphins the next night on Monday Night Football.  So I was just listening to whatever music WLW offered.  And back then, there was news on the half hour, every half hour. 

So I was about at the Lodi exit on I-71 around noon, when the first news break hit.  A TWA flight bound from Columbus, Ohio to Washington DC, had disappeared off of the radar.  Back to music as I cruised towards Mansfield.  Then the next 12:30 “on the half hour” news break.  Trans World Airline (TWA) flight 514, with 92 on board, had crashed on approach to Dulles Airport.  It was down in the mountains of Virginia (Wikipedia).  

Even as a senior in high school I was very aware of politics.  And a Sunday flight to Washington, DC from Columbus might well have Representatives on board.  So I got concerned about that.  And while plane crashes happened more in those days, it was still a big deal when a regular domestic aircraft went down.  So, between the listening to “Kung Fu Fighting” by Carl Douglas and “Cats in the Cradle” by Harry Chapin, I was driving and wondering what happened, and who was lost.

Security Breach

I was just passing Sunbury when the 1:00 news hit.  TWA Flight 514 crashed into Mt. Weather, a National Security facility in Virginia.  The news explained that Mt. Weather was the evacuation point for Congress and the President if Washington was threatened by a nuclear attack.  And as I approached Columbus, I thought, “I really don’t think that the government would want the whole world to know about that; ‘if you’re going to blow up Washington, they’ll all be at a mountain in Virginia, aim there next.’”

Getting through Columbus those days was a bit of a trick.  The freeway bypassing the town, I-270, wasn’t even completed.  Even what today is I-71 through town wasn’t done (and if you live in Columbus, you know it still isn’t!).  What was then I-71 is what today is called SR 315.  So as a young driver I had to make sure I kept my directions straight to get through town.  I wasn’t paying much attention to the radio until I cleared the small town of Grove City, and was on the last long stretch of I-71 to home.

Clean Up

It wasn’t until the 2:00 pm news that I was paying attention again.  And this time, it was very different.  Someone had made a phone call, or as I imagined it, the FBI had stormed into the studio, tearing up scripts and threatening long imprisonments.  The news reporter spoke of TWA Flight 514, down in the “heavily forested land” west of Dulles Airport.  No mention of Mt. Weather, or nuclear war, or any national security protocols.  And for years, the exact purpose of the location was kept quiet.  But I was in on the secret, along with whoever else was listening to WLW at 1:00 pm on Sunday December 1st.  In the event of nuclear war, our government will be on Mt. Weather.

Dinner at the Dahlman’s

My parents were well known for their Saturday dinners.  There was always amazing amounts of food, and plenty of wine to go with it.  But what really made their dinners special were the people around the table.  Dad, at the head of the table, was changing the television business with his success with the Phil Donahue Show.  Mom, at the other end, was a former SOE agent and represented “England” to the world.  And the guests might include Federal Judges, Proctor and Gamble Engineers, exiles from the Soviet Union, and even a woman who communicated with ghosts.  

After the roast beef or the Cornish hens, there would always be a special desert.  And we would sit around the table, working through bottles of wine, and talking for hours about the events of the day, or the latest trip overseas, or politics (but never religion or the Queen – Mom’s rules). 

Pole Vault Poles

One night in the mid-1980’s, a former Navy Commander and material engineer, and I were talking about my pole vault coaching.  He was interested in the construction of poles, how the fiberglass stored energy, and what the athlete did to enhance the effect of the “slingshot” up over the bar.  He began describing a different material than fiberglass, one that was lighter but had greater energy “storage” capacity.  As a coach, I was fascinated.  We were going to change the whole sport, right there over a bottle of Pinot Grigio and the remains of a chocolate cake.

Abruptly he changed the subject, leaving me “hanging” on the new material.  I think he realized he’d stepped beyond the “security” boundaries of his corporation, and was too close to giving away “trade secrets”.  I was, frankly, annoyed.  He got me that far – it was clear we weren’t having a “theoretical” discussion – but stopped.  No amount of cajoling got us back on topic.  To this day, now thirty-some years later, whatever that material was hasn’t been revealed. 

Secrets Revealed

But beside him was another engineer, this one an aircraft engine specialist who worked for General Electric.  He’d been particularly interested in the conversation, and also in a bottle or two of  a California red.  So when he noticed my annoyance, he brought up some different materials that he worked with.

He began to describe an aircraft that couldn’t be seen on radar. It was made of  material designed to absorb radar waves instead of bouncing them back, and the work he did to fit the engines into the small profile body.  He went onto describe material that wasn’t metal, but a composite of materials, that made the plane, as he put it “stealthy”.  He’d spent months away from home in California.

The room got quiet.  Everyone realized that we were hearing about something that we didn’t know about,  for a reason.  I got that creeping feeling that the FBI would soon burst through the front door, and we would be in for a long interrogation.  But, though national security was definitely breeched that night in Cincinnati, it was a secret safe with us. No one was going to find their Soviet “handler” and pass on the information from “loose lips” about what we know now as the B-2 Stealth Bomber, manufactured in Palmdale, California with General Electric engines.

Secrets Safe

The B-2 “Batwing Bomber” was first publicly announced a few years later in 1988.  

Thirty-five years have passed since that dinner party, sharing secrets around the table in Mom and Dad’s dining room.  The “Officials Secrets Act” didn’t apply, but the time is passed.  And so has everyone sitting around that table, except for me. I don’t think the FBI will be visiting Pataskala anytime soon. At least I hope not.

The Sunday Story Series

• Riding the Dog  – 1/24/21
• Hiking with Jack – 1/31/21
• A Track Story – 2/7/21
• Ritual – 2/14/21
• Voyageur – 2/19/21
• A Dog Story – 2/25/21
• A Watkins Legend – 3/7/21
• Ghosts at Gettysburg – 3/14/21
• Lessons from the State Meet – 3/28/21
• More Lessons from the State – 4/4/21
• Stories from the Road – 4/11/21
• A Bear Wants You – 5/1/21
• My Teachers – 5/9/21
• Old Friends  – 5/23/21
• The Gift – 6/6/21
• Echoes of Mom – 6/20/21
• Stories of the Fourth – 7/3/21
• Running Memories – 7/25/21
• Lost Dog of Eldora – 8/1/21
• Dogs and Medals – 8/8/21
• The New Guy – 9/5/21
• Stories of 9-11 – 9/12/21
• The Interview – 9/26/21
• Night Moves – 10/3/21
• Funeral for a Friend – 10/11/21
• National Security – 10/24/2021

The Play

The “play” has been clear for a long time.  Senator Joe Manchin, Democrat of West Virginia, developed his own “Voting Rights Act” for the Senate.  It’s basically the lesser of two sent from the House of Representatives, the “John Lewis Voting Rights Act”, with some further modifications (the “For the People Act” was the other).  

It’s not that modification was needed to get the rest of Democratic Senators signed onto the bill.  But Manchin believed that with his changes, he could entice ten Republicans to join in and vote to allow, for the purpose of debate, the bill to go forward.  After all, it isn’t really much more than an updated version of the 1965 Voting Rights Act, a law the Senate reaffirmed in 2006 by a 98-0 vote. It requires sixty votes in the Senate to overcome a filibuster.

Profiles in Fear

But those were the days before the advent of “Trumpism” and the “Stop the Steal” lie.  The former President and the leadership of the Republicans in the Senate, led by McConnell of Kentucky, have made it clear.  Vote for voting rights, even a simple update of the 1965 law, and you are flying in the face of Trump’s rhetoric.  A huge majority of the Republican voters still support the 45th President. A wayward Republican who in any way supports Manchin’s bill is  likely to find a primary opponent backed with the full force of the man from Mara Lago.

We used to talk about Senators who were “Profiles in Courage”, willing to risk their political careers for principle.  But those “profiles” now seem to only exist in John F. Kennedy’s book.  Time and time again, today’s Republican Senators are willing to accept almost any lie, any position, as long as it keeps them in good stead with the former President.  Even the “courageous” Senators; Romney, Cassidy and Sasse, are unwilling to risk the opprobrium of the masses led by Trump.

So they don’t.  The Manchin bill was “filibustered”, unable to even come to the floor of the Senate for debate.  It was a straight party-line vote, fifty Democrats for, fifty Republicans against.  And since the magic number was sixty – the motion failed and with it, Manchin’s compromise. 

Existential Threat

For Democrats, passage of the Voting Rights Act is an existential struggle.  In twenty-six states, Republican state legislatures have already passed restrictive voting laws.  All the nonsense about “securing elections” aside, those laws make it more difficult for folks who tend to vote Democratic to actually cast their ballot.  “Stop the Steal” really means restrict voting access.  If Democrats can’t vote, they can’t win.  Ask Republicans in Georgia, whose 2020 elections laws made voting easier.  Not only did Biden win the Presidential election, but two Democrats won the Senate races. The Republican Georgia legislature has fixed that – it won’t happen again if their laws stand.

In the “Schoolhouse Rock” version of America, we are a nation where every vote counts.  The phrase “one-person, one-vote” is a fundamental principle.  But in reality, that has never been true.  The voting process was slanted against “them”, whoever “they” were. European immigrants in the 1800’s, the formerly enslaved after the Civil War, Asian Immigrants in the 1920’s, all were denied the vote.  

Stop the Vote

There were overt attacks by groups like the Ku Klux Klan, and more “subtle” attacks through restrictions on voter registration.  Today, the modern day equivalent of the poll tax or literacy test, is to make the polling place far away, or so crowded that several hours are required to cast a vote.

More restrictive voter identification, gerrymandered electoral districts, and reduced mail in balloting all serve to disenfranchise voters.  And since many of those are likely to vote for Democrats, it is a “legal” way of stacking the vote in the Republican favor.

But “legal” is a subjective term.  And that is the issue that the John Lewis Act would define:  what is legal in terms of voter access and identification and what is punitive.  So it’s simple,  either Democrats protect the right to vote by passing Federal law, or states will restrict the right to vote in order to for Republicans to control the outcome of elections. 

End of the Line

Majority Leader Schumer might be fly fishing in the high meadows of the Appalachians. He gave Senator Manchin all “the line”  he could.  Manchin believed in bipartisanship, believed he could bring ten Republicans into the fold, believed that the Senate could be 2006 instead of 2021.  And Schumer let him run out the line. But now the man in the middle, the Democratic Senator from the most Trump supporting state in the Nation, has failed.  What happens next?

Joe (and Kristin), it’s really all up to you. It’s your turn to be a Profile in Courage. The Republican “stonewall” is not cracking, regardless of how much “almost heaven, West Virginia” common sense is applied.  The political courage you expect of your Republican colleagues is sorely lacking.  Even Toomey, Portman, Burr, Shelby and Blunt, all retiring from the Senate, are unwilling to buck McConnell.  And even if they did, that still would only be half of the ten needed to overcome the filibuster.

Carve Out

There is another way.  The filibuster is just a rule of the Senate.  It was agreed to by a simple majority vote when the Senate was organized in January, it can be removed or restricted by a simple majority vote as well.  And the Democrats technically already have that majority, with the tie-breaking vote of Vice President Harris.  Schumer can “reel in” Manchin; it’s a simple deal.

The Senate doesn’t have to completely give up the filibuster.  There already are “carve outs” for  executive appointments and budget reconciliation.  It would require one additional carve out for the most important function of American government – protecting the right to vote.  And it would require that the “traditionalist” Democratic Senators led by Manchin, the others invisible behind his back, accept that voting rights are so important the ultimate weapon must be used to protect it:  majority rule.

It’s what McConnell would do.

Division

As long as there’s been elections, there’s been divisions.  The United States has a rich history of division, from well before the dramatic debates over the Declaration of Independence.  But it was particularly virulent during the first seriously contested Presidential election in 1800.  John Adams was President, and the Federalist candidate for re-election.  Thomas Jefferson was Vice President, the candidate of the Democratic-Republican Party.  The two parties were completely at odds over the future of the American Democracy, with both predicting dire consequences if the other won.  

When the Democratic-Republicans won the Presidency by a tie-breaking vote of the House of Representatives, the US Constitution was tested.  But President Adams accepted the results, and turned over the government to his rival, Jefferson.  He left the new capital, Washington DC, the morning of the inauguration.  That began a tradition of peaceful transition of power, a tradition that continued until January 6th of 2020.

The “Affair”

But the political division between Federalists and Democratic-Republicans continued.  In 1802, a “poem” was published in Federalist newspapers in Philadelphia and Boston.  The newspapers claimed in jest that it was authored by Jefferson himself, the “Sage of Monticello”.  It ridiculed Jefferson’s long standing “affair” with an enslaved woman he owned, Sally Hemings. Today we would call it rape.  That “affair” began after Jefferson’s wife died.  Hemings was the half-sister of Jefferson’s deceased wife (they shared the same father), and fourteen years old when their “affair” began (Jefferson was forty-four).

The entire nation was well aware of Jefferson’s ongoing liaison with Hemings. It produced six children, who became the enslaved property of Jefferson.  Monticello is the famous home Jefferson built with enslaved laborers on a mountaintop above Charlottesville, Virginia.  The poem can be “sung” to another political tune, written originally to ridicule the Colonial troops in 1755, but later taken as a song of “honor” by Americans – Yankee Doodle. 

The Poem 

Jefferson

Dirty politics didn’t begin with the 2016 election.  And this essay isn’t an example of “Critical Race Theory”.  Monticellian Sally is part of the “warts and all” history of the United States, a part that wasn’t taught in your history class in high school.  But knowing about it now, draw your own conclusions about Jefferson, the conflicted man who wrote his own epitaph.  It’s on his tombstone:

“The Author of the Declaration of Independence, the Statute of Virginia for Religious Freedom, and the Father of the University of Virginia”.

Talking Points

It’s another Fox News talking point.  There are “lazy people”, living on unemployment and Covid Relief, who refuse to go back to work.  That’s why we have to wait in line in the McDonald’s drive-thru, grocery stores shelves aren’t stocked, and we can’t get “good service” at the restaurant.  “Those Democrats” are encouraging them to stay home, not pushing them back into their old underpaid jobs.  

As always, there’s just enough “truth” in the Fox story to make it dangerous.  I’m sure there are some few who were willing to live on the little unemployment they could get during Covid closure.  I hope that the Covid relief measures did help them.  But those measures are over, and many of the lower paying jobs in our economy still aren’t filled.  But the old (racist) trope of the lazy person living “on the dole” is still what it always has been: a political talking point more than a reality.

Living Wage

So what is reality?  The largest employer in the United States is Wal Mart, with over two million workers.  Wal Mart paid $11/hour starting wage before Covid. IF you were working full time that means $22,000 a year, hardly a living wage.  But half of the workers weren’t full time, which means they didn’t even make the $22,000, or earn benefits like health insurance or retirement savings.  Those workers supplemented their incomes with federal poverty programs, and many were forced into finding a second income.

By the way, don’t miss an important point here.  Wal Mart wasn’t (isn’t) paying their workers enough, so they qualify for government subsidies.  Essentially, the US government, meaning the  taxpayers of the United States, are supplementing Wal Mart so their workers can be paid at that low rate.  

Essential Workers

So many Wal Mart workers were working two jobs.  When Covid struck, many of us switched to working from home.  But we still “expected” to go to Wal Mart, and Kroger’s grocery, and the other “essential” stores.  Those workers, paid at the lowest rates, were “expected” to show up for work and risk Covid at greater levels than the rest of us in “quarantine”.   In fact we expected them to perform even greater service, like gathering our groceries and bringing them out to us as we waited, masked and safe, in our cars.  (Kroger’s found that to be such a good business model, that the local store here has dedicated an entire entry and section of the building for their “clicklist” customers.  Regular “old fashioned” customers – start walking!!)

But those “essential” workers at Wal Mart and other places, still had the same issues the rest of us had at home.  Kids weren’t in school, someone had to take care of them.  Grandparents, at even greater risk from Covid, often weren’t available.  They were isolated from the children. Childcare is expensive, but during Covid it wasn’t available either.  Everyone, but particularly the “essential workers,” had to adapt to the pandemic.  

By the way, don’t be fooled thinking that “everyone” was so worried about kids’ education during the pandemic. Online schooling isn’t as good, but kids at home meant parents not going to work – a critical economic issue.  Politicians claimed getting schools open was “all about” education, but it was really about getting people back on the job – and taking greater risks of getting sick.

What’s Over?

We declared Covid “over”, though we better not tell the almost 2,000 who are still dying daily (Healthtracker).  And we told “everyone” to go back to work – though if you were an “essential” worker, you were always there.  For the fortunate, many found that working from home was a “good gig”.  They found ways to stay there.  And for others the pandemic became a time to regroup and re-invent themselves.  They found better paying jobs, jobs that allowed them to move on from Wal Mart and the other low paying positions.

Many re-thought and re-budgeted their lives.  Just an easy example:  there is a shortage of substitute school teachers.  Traditionally there were two main sources of substitutes – younger folks trying to get a fulltime job in education, and retired teachers looking to supplement their incomes.  But, as an example, substitute teaching here in the local schools pays less than $13/hour, less than a dollar more than Wal Mart’s new minimum of $12.  So those younger folks are finding better paying jobs, even if those jobs don’t provide an entry into teaching. Just down the street, Amazon is paying an average $18/hour.

Choices

And many retired teachers, who are greater risk from Covid,  decided to stay home.  Being in a school, particularly elementary schools where the children aren’t vaccinated, puts them at higher risk. And $13 an hour isn’t worth it, especially when the average babysitter in Columbus makes over $14 an hour (Nannylane).  

Folks are making lifestyle choices.  They have found ways to make earning less money work.  The new Millennial watchword is “work-life balance”.  That doesn’t fit into the pre-Covid world of working multiple jobs to make sure the bills got paid.  Now, still in the pandemic, many are finding ways to make ends meet, and spend more time with their families, friends, and doing what makes them happy.

So they aren’t in the McDonald’s drive-thru window, or welcoming you to your local Wal Mart.  

Drool

This is the post-Sunday morning news show gripe (or maybe a stronger word relating to dogs).  The long national “nightmare” of Democratic intra-Party negotiations goes on and on and on.  Oh, I know it really hasn’t been that long, but today’s media wants news now; and they don’t have the patience to “watch the pot boil”.  So they are trying to guess every point of contention and press every player, everyone who might be “in the room where it happens” to let slip what’s going on.  They’re drooling for scraps of information, or better yet, controversy.

I get the whole drooling thing.  It’s like our five dogs when I open the refrigerator door.  They all know – the carrots are in there.  And, because they are all “good dogs” they sit down and begin to drool.  The media feels the same way, if only someone would open the door to “the room where it happens”, they will sit and drool.  But they won’t, of course.  They aren’t “good dogs”. They’ll smash open the door and try to get an exclusive with the one participant who is disgruntled.  That’s why no one negotiates on TV, it just puts everyone in a corner they can’t get out of.

Sausage

So I do understand why the media is feeding the impatience – they hope it will make the door open quicker.  But what truly annoys me are the folks who were Republicans and left because of the 45th President, or worse, still are Republicans who pretend their party isn’t fully co-opted by Trumpism.  They sit there and slyly give “advice” to the Democrats on how they can resolve the issue, and, to abuse a phrase from Hamilton, “get the sausage made”.  

Invariably their advice is:  just go with the “bipartisan” infra-structure package, and leave all the other ideas behind. To summarize John Podhoretz, a former Reagan and GHW Bush speechwriter, Biden should give up the idea of being a “transformative President” and just take what Joe Manchin will give him. “There isn’t a national mandate for transformative change, in fact, there’s no mandate at all”. Joe Scarborough on MSNBC echoed the same sentiments on Monday morning.

And both noted that if Democrats don’t take THEIR advice and reach a deal now, with control of the Congress and the Presidency – then the Trump/Republicans will win in 2022.  And Democrats will never pass legislation again.

Agony and Ecstasy

There’s a classic 1965 bio-pic titled The Agony and the Ecstasy starring Charlton Heston ( of The Ten Commandments) as the artist Michelangelo.  He left his home in Florence and travelled to Rome to paint the Sistine Chapel, commissioned by Pope Julius II (Rex Harrison of My Fair Lady).   The Pope wanted the giant murals done quickly, but to Michelangelo the work couldn’t be rushed.  For four years, Julius kept wandering into the Chapel, to stand beneath the scaffolding reaching to the ceiling and cry “Michelangelo, when will you make an end?”  The artist would always answer “When I’m finished!”

Or the more common cry of the fifteen year old in the back seat of the car on vacation, “…are we there yet?”  There are lots of snide and surly responses, but when I was driving my favorite was “…it’s only a mile, more or less”.  More or less – might be a mile, might be five hundred.

More or Less

We Democrats will finish.  We will arrive. We’ve almost reached an agreement, more or less. It’s not going to take four years, or even four months.  And we’ll “make the sausage” with Manchin and Sinema (and Warren and Sanders).  It won’t be what really anyone “wants”.  Manchin and Sinema will complain that the “sausage” costs too much and taxes too much, and Sanders and Warren will complain that their six trillion dollar plan is now whittled to two and a half trillion, and the rich and corporations are still getting away with not paying their fair share.  And when everyone is fully griping (or maybe that same word relating to dogs) then you’ll know – the deal is good.

President Biden may not have his Rooseveltian New Deal, or even a Johnsonian Great Society.  Nope – but he’s going to get his (please say in a chirpy manner) Biden-Build-Back-Better.  Like sausage it’s going to taste good, and the American people really don’t want to know what went “inside”,  though the “media dogs” surely do.  And for the John Podhoretz’s and Joe Scarborough’s of the world – it’s going to be better than “just” the infra-structure plan, though not what the vast majority of “progressives” would wish.  

At least we Democrats better get all this done.  Or else guys like Podhoretz and Scarborough will be right.  And I just couldn’t stand that.

Brendan O’Connor passed away last month.  He died here in Tarpon Springs, at eighty-three years of age after a prolonged illness.  That’s unnerving for me, with a brand new Medicare “Senior Citizen Membership Card” in my wallet:  I never thought of my first cousin Brendan as “old”.  

I first met Brendan when I was six.  We were living in Cincinnati in the early 1960’s, and Brendan came to visit. You see, my mother was from England, and most of her large family was still there.  Brendan was the son of her oldest brother Leslie, and like his sister before, he came to visit America and stay with my parents,  his aunt and uncle.  It was a family tradition, a kind of O’Connor rite of passage.   It’s the rite Mom did before “the war” (World War II).   She stayed with Leslie and his wife Marjorie in Belgium,  where she was enrolled in “finishing school”, and she was happy to repay her brother’s family the favor.

Leslie was killed flying his personal airplane in 1959, so when Brendan arrived in 1962, recently out of the British Army, the accident was still fresh.  But I didn’t know about all that.  What I knew was that this HUGE man, my cousin, was here.  You see, I would grow up to be by far the tallest in our immediate family at 5’7” – so we are diminutive group.  When twenty four year old Brendan arrived at 6’2” plus, he seemed enormous.  He was very climbable.  

Brendan stayed for a month or two, exploring Cincinnati, then I think he went back home to England.  But he soon returned, this time to stay and make his life here in America, and for the first few months, with us.

Brendan ultimately took US citizenship, but was, as Gilbert and Sullivan would say, “HE IS AN ENGLISHMAN!”   He was kind hearted, with that British accent.  When he came in the door there was always a big “Hel—Lo!!!”, always two parts with the pause in the middle.  He became a salesman, finding a niche in selling artificial flowers.  First it was in Cincinnati, then he moved throughout the Midwest. Everyone knew the big Englishman with a trunk full of flowers and a hearty laugh.

For a long time, Brendan was “on the road”, travelling from town to town selling his products.  When I turned sixteen, I bought my first car from him.  It was a 1969 Plymouth Fury III, and it was only three years old – a new car to me.  But the Plymouth already had well over a hundred thousand miles.  Brendan covered his “territory” many times, across Iowa and Kansas, Indiana and Illinois.

He always stayed in touch with us, close to our family and particularly to Mom.  When he fell asleep at the wheel and literally drove into a train, Brendan left his totaled car in Kansas and came straight to Cincinnati to recover.  And he was always back to our  house for Mom’s holidays and birthdays, and especially Christmas.  Mom made everything “English” for Christmas.  For Brendan it was just like home.  He was a part of our family, and he was definitely Mom’s favorite.

Brendan moved to Chicago and eventually found Carolyn, and they got married and settled there.  We saw a bit less of him then, but still stayed connected.  And there were what my Mom would call one of her “coincidences”.  Our family went on summer vacation to Cape Cod.  Brendan knew we were there, but no plans were made.  I don’t think he even knew we were at a fisherman’s cottage in Chatham.

We were out exploring, wandering through the small towns on the Cape. We stopped at a grocery store.  As we gathered our supplies, we heard a familiar voice on the other side of the shelves.   “Mom – I think Brendan and Carolyn are here!”  There was a joyous reunion in the parking lot!

Brendan became involved in the “British” club in Chicago.  And while he was always a proud son of England, he also was proud of his adopted country, now thirty years his home.  He applied for American citizenship, and was honored to take on the obligations of this nation.  His friend, Federal Judge Art Spiegel, was proud to administer the oath.  So he was both, the Englishman and now American.  It was a good life.

Unfortunately Carolyn got sick, leaving Brendan a widower far too soon.  He was just sad, alone.  So he closed up his Chicago operation and moved here to Tarpon Springs.  He got involved here too, as President and District Lieutenant Governor of the Tarpon Springs Kiwanis.  And he met Mary Watts, a retired school administrator and also a widow.  They soon fell in love and married.

They found a beautiful home tucked away on along the golf course, opening to their own swimming pool in the back.  It was an ideal place to “retire”. But Brendan and Mary were more than just Florida retirees.  They stayed involved in the community and church.  They went on cruises with their friends, and entertained poolside at their home.  And they stayed connected to our family in Ohio, and the rest of the clan back in England.

When Brendan got sick, it was Mary who stood loyally by him, taking care and managing hospitals, nursing homes and doctors.  

I last saw Brendan at his 80th birthday party, at their home here.  Family was “represented” – I drove over from Vero Beach where my wife and I were camping,  my sister Pat flew in from New York, and Brendan’s nephew David came in from England.  Brendan was already battling illness, but we all had a good time reminiscing about the past and doing our best to avoid present-day politics.  At breakfast Sunday morning, Brendan, aware of his own mortality, asked me if I would do this eulogy.  I was honored to tell him I would, and, in spite of the difficulties of our current era, I am honored to be here today.  

He led a good life, an adventurous life, and a life that made those around him better.   He was the model, of “AN ENGLISHMAN”, but also an example of the best of America.  He came and started a new life here, and had success in business and family, and had love in life.  What more could a man ask?

Rest in well-earned Peace Brendan:  we look forward to hearing your “Hel-Lo!!” once again.

Before the Internet

In 1983 I was teaching at the Middle School.  Mostly, it was eighth grade American History, but I also had two sections of sixth grade social studies.  I was good with eighth graders, tons of energy and the “top of the school” attitude to go with it.  But sixth graders were different, especially in 1983.  It was the era before the internet and social media (Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg wasn’t even born until 1984), and there was still a lot of naivete in twelve year old kids.  

A couple of years at Middle School changed that, and there was always a stark contrast between my classes.  The eighth graders who thought they knew everything, and the sixth graders who knew they didn’t.

My philosophy of education was that I would do my best to answer every question the kids had.  Sometimes the answers had to be appropriate to their age and understanding, but I wanted my students to feel that we could talk about whatever was going on in the world and I would give them an honest answer.  I wanted them to know about history and the world, the failures and the glories, and give them more than just “dates and names”.  My goal was to help them become good “citizens”, who could ask questions and reach logical conclusions about our world.  Discussing, questioning, evaluating information:  that’s what  good citizens do.

Too Much Information

So it was in a sixth grade class during a current events discussion that a boy brought up a “gay murder”.  In 1983 “gay” wasn’t much discussed in school, much less middle school.  In fact, I was relatively sure that my sixth graders didn’t even know what “gay” was.  The AIDS crisis was just beginning, with the government still in denial about why it was centered in the gay population.  A forty-three year old virologist, Dr. Anthony Fauci, was one of the leading researchers in the field.  Ultimately 700,000 Americans would die from AIDS over twenty years, ironically near the same number that COVID has taken in the past year and three-fourths.

As a teacher I wanted to answer the student’s question, without giving him and the rest of the class way more information than they were ready for.  So I began asking him questions about what he knew about the murder.  We were just getting into the issue, when the bell rung.

That gave me some time to research it myself.  In those days, that meant going to the school library and digging into the Columbus Dispatch to see what happened.  To my relief, the murder wasn’t a “gay murder”.  It was a murder ON Gay Street in downtown Columbus.

Warts and All

But I tried to let my students face controversies, especially the eighth graders.  We confronted slavery and the Native American removal, bigotry and labor exploitation, the Holocaust and the Japanese-American Internment.  They heard my story about meeting the hero Jesse Owens, and how he came home with four gold medals from the 1936 Olympics, but as a black man couldn’t find work.  We spoke to an internment camp survivor, a World War II spy, and a Vietnam veteran, the War of my students’ fathers. 

My classes looked at the pictures of mountains of piled buffalo pelts, and discussed how it was a military strategy to starve the Native Americans on the plains and force them onto reservations.  We learned the pathos of brother against brother in the Civil War, but also learned that one side was fighting for the right to enslave men.  

I wanted my students to see America as a nation of destiny, warts and all.  Not everyone was bad, but they weren’t all “angels” either.   Our Nation started in contradiction: a man who enslaved others writing “…all men are created equal”. 

Faux Balance

This week in Texas, a school administrator told a teacher that she had to “balance” the “controversial” literature in her classroom.  Her books on the Holocaust had to be balanced with…

Books that deny the Holocaust occurred?  Ones that tells the stories of the “good Nazis”?  

When I was attending Denison University, I took a comparative historic literature class.  We read Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin, the novel about slavery that helped ignite the Civil War, and several of the “Anti-Tom” books written to defend the South’s “peculiar institution”.  It was an exercise in understanding propaganda from both sides, as the nation approached the war.  But we didn’t “balance” abolitionism with slavery – we acknowledged that there was an absolute evil in enslavement, period.

This isn’t about “Critical Race Theory”, an idea intentionally misunderstood by some to mean diversity education.  There can’t be “balance”, presenting “both sides” of some issues.  There is no “positive side” of discrimination.   And just because you can “find” Holocaust deniers, or modern segregationists, or any other number of extreme views – there still is right and wrong.  Teachers’ need to be more than “neutral presenters”, they need to explain the fundamental truth of all history:  that it was made by humans, women and men:  of all races, identities, and views.  And that out of that mishmash of humanity mistakes were made – but a lot of progress was made too.

Wrong Message Received

There are folks running for School Boards all across the nation, and right here in Pataskala, demanding that classroom teachers be muzzled, prevented from discussing any “controversial” issue.  Even when they don’t get on the Board, that message is getting through to those on frontline in the classroom:  don’t take the chance and “rock the boat”.  Avoid all controversies – muzzle yourself, and even worse, muzzle your students.

It’s important that students learn mathematics.  It’s important that they can read and write, and understand science (now more than ever).  But it’s even more important, in an age when “all knowledge” is at a student’s fingertips, that students learn to evaluate information and reach reasonable decisions.  That’s called teaching citizenship. In our currently fragile Democracy, perhaps it is the most important goal a school should have.

Don’t Vote

I’ve been writing essays for “Our America” for four and a half years.  I’ve written about politics and life, national crises and local foibles, and somewhere north of a million words. But you’ve never heard me say this before:  Donald Trump is absolutely right. 

The ex-President is banned from most social media platforms, so he issues “old fashioned” press releases to get his opinions out.  Wednesday, he said;

Statement by Donald J Trump, 45th President of the United States of America (as if we forgot)

 If we don’t solve the Presidential Election Fraud of 2020 (which we have thoroughly and conclusively documented), Republicans will not be voting in ’22 or ’24.  It is the single most important thing for Republicans to do (Twitter).

When it Began

In the 2016 Presidential debates, Donald Trump was asked if he would accept the election results should he lose to Hillary Clinton.  From that moment, October 19th, the fraudulent claim of a stolen election was born (YouTube).   He refused.  To his, and the world’s surprise, Trump won the electoral vote in 2016, despite losing the popular vote.  So, of course there was “no election fraud”.  He won.

But the groundwork was already established.  Trump’s buddy Roger Stone actually coined an internet phrase explaining the idea in the 2016 primaries.  Stone was concerned that the other Republican candidates would find a way to combine and prevent Trump’s nomination.  So he started the “Stop the Steal” slogan.

But the plan was made apparent right there, in front of Chris Wallace, the American people and God.  Unlike every other Presidential candidate since the first hotly contested election in 1800, Donald Trump made it clear that he would only accept the results if he won.  From his position it actually made perfect sense.  If he, as expected, had lost in 2016, he needed to have some ongoing issue in order to monetize his political career.  In short, he needed to have a “cause” that he could cling to, and one that he could convince “the masses” to fund.

Four Dark Years

So we entered the four years of the Trump Presidency ending, perhaps appropriately, in a world-wide pandemic.  And the “election fraud farce” plan was shelved until 2020, one of the most difficult national elections held in U.S. history.  States scrambled to find ways to vote without creating viral “super-spreader” events, in an era when many big cities already turned to massive single polling places, a perfect viral soup.  Election officials found creative ways to fulfill their duty to the people:  making the vote accessible and safe.

And more people voted in the 2020 election than ever before, over 158 million Americans, two-thirds of the eligible voters (Pew 1).  Forty-six percent voted by mail, twenty-seven percent voted in early voting, and twenty-seven percent voted on election day (Pew 2).   We avoided increased viral infection, and managed to narrowly elect a President, Joe Biden.  Trump received the second most popular votes of any candidate in US history – but Biden got the most.

The Biggest Election

The “Stop the Steal” farce came off the shelf early, back in the spring of 2020.  As states scrambled to find ways for folks to vote, Trump began to question to security of the election process. He questioned mail-in ballots, drive-up ballots, and any other form of balloting short of lining up on election day itself.  This, in spite of the fact that he voted absentee in his “home state” of Florida, and depended on Florida’s strong mail-in balloting to win the state.  His Postmaster General, Louis DeJoy, instituted a series of postal “reforms” slowing mail processing and raising issues about whether mail-in voting would actually work. (DeJoy continues to claim that slowing the mail was a result of cost-cutting measures to make the Postal Service more profitable, and had nothing to do with the election.  And he’s still the Postmaster General).

Every legitimate investigation, including Trump’s own Attorney General and even the illegitimate “Cyber Ninja” count in Arizona, all agree on one thing – the 2020 election was accurate.  But “Stop the Steal” is raising money for Donald Trump.  It brings the crowd to the rallies, and keeps those online donations pouring into the MAGA websites.  

Democracy at Risk

But the impact of “Stop the Steal” isn’t just about money.  It created the Insurrection of January 6th.  It has put American Democracy at risk.  And it’s made a nation faced with a pandemic unwilling to accept reasonable scientific advice.  If we can’t trust the results of the election, we can’t trust anything the government, or media, says.

So after all of that, how can I say that Donald Trump is absolutely right?  Well, it’s really self-serving.  I am a Democrat, and I believe, as many of my former-Republicans friends do, that the current Republican Party is full corrupted by authoritarian-Trumpism.  The only way out is to keep Trumpism out of power.  It worked in the Georgia Special Election in January.  Trump told voters not to trust the vote, Democrats showed up and Trumpers didn’t, and two Democrats were elected Senators.   It’s the easiest way to win – if the Republicans to do exactly what the ex-President says:  don’t vote.  

Roundabout – the song by Yes, helped me cross mountains and rivers as I drove across the Eastern United States in the mid-1970’s.  The tape cassette went into the “custom” sound system of my 1967 Volkswagen Squareback (station wagon). The speakers were in boxes in the back – sitting on the hatch to the engine!

America

This is America.  It is a big, broad, and diverse country.  What you call a “pop”, others call a “soda”.  And then there’s the few regions, from Southern Ohio to Alabama, who just call all brands a “Coke” or even an “R-C”.  The Founding Fathers recognized the distances involved in trying to govern such a place.  They created layers of power:  from the Federal to State, to County to local.  Each had a role in determining what happened in our lives, from the big things like fighting wars, to the small things like determining how best to pick up the garbage.

This is America.  It is a Nation where everyone has their own opinion.  We know:  what the President should do, and how to solve the unemployment crisis, and which quarterback should be starting for the high school on Friday night.  Since Andrew Jackson moved into the White House, opening the building to be ransacked “in a friendly way” to celebrate his election, America believes in the common man.  Jackson thought “anyone” could run the government, so he might as well have HIS supporters doing it.  We call it the “spoils system”, to the victor goes the “spoils”.  And so Jackson reaped his reward.

This is America.  We used to have arguments in the town square.  Bring your own soap box to mount, and make you best pitch.  The discussion would eventually move from the square to the pub, and from reasoned points to emotional argument.  Alcohol has that effect on people.  But now we can have those “discussions” in a sterile, sanitary manner – by computer or IPhone.  And with that sterility comes a price – I can say anything I want if you can’t reach across the bar and punch me in the nose.  And once we close our IPads, we don’t stumble home arm-in-arm, leaning on each other for guidance. There’s no closure bringing us together again.

Elections Matter

This is America.  There are the biggest elections, every four years: the Presidential elections.  In our best year (last year) 67% of eligible citizens came out to vote.  Then there are the “mid-term” elections, every two years.  We elect Senators and Congressmen, and most of our state office holders.  But without the national attention of the Presidency, about 55% will show up to vote.  But this year, the “off-off-year”, the issues are local.  We can expect that 30%, less than a third of those eligible, will decide what is going to happen in our cities, townships and schools.

Here in Precinct 4-A of Pataskala, Ohio, we have lots of issues.  Our local coffee house wants to sell more than coffee – they have two “liquor license” issues on the ballot.  And a new place, opening up in “downtown Pataskala” wants to serve liquor too.  We’ve come a long way from the “dry” town I moved to in 1978.  I helped make it “wet” then, and I’m still voting for liquor licenses today.

We’ve got to “affirm” the Mayor (only one is running), and the Council (three for three positions), the County School Board (again, three for three).  The “hot” contest is the local Southwest Licking School board, five candidates for three seats (I will vote to retain the current Board members, Spindler, Vincent and Zeune).  

Taxes

Then there’s the taxes.  This is America, and the only taxes most Americans directly vote on are at the local level.  Those issues face an uphill battle.  No one wants more taxes; but everyone wants more services.  The County Parks want .375 mills.  One mill equals 1/1000 of a dollar tax on your property – I’ll save you the math.  The Parks would get 3.75 cents per $1000 of property value per year.  For me that ends up being $21.81 a year – well worth it.

The City of Pataskala wants one half of one percent of taxable income for the police.  We are a small city, paying our police on the low end of the scale.  We need to raise their salaries to retain them in our City, and we need more officers. I’m all for this tax.  

And then there’s the Library Tax that’s confusing folks.  The library district is the same as the school district – so some here in town think this is a school levy.  IT IS NOT.  The library wants 1 mill – that’ll cost me $29 a year more than I’m paying now.  Having a good library is important to any town.  So here’s no surprise – a retired teacher supports the library.

The Future

So those “little” elections don’t seem so important when compared to THE PRESIDENCY.  But these are also the ones that most impact our lives.  In the township just south of town, Etna, there is a hotly contested election for two township trustee seats.  Etna is a community in transition, with former farm fields now filled with giant warehouses.  It’s a big deal to that small community, and rumors of corruption abound.  I don’t have a say – I’m not a resident of Etna.  But I do hope that the fine folks of Etna show up and vote.  Their decisions impact our entire area, not just those within the boundaries of the township.

This is America. We get to make decisions about our lives. Here in Pataskala there used to be one stop light in the whole town.  Now, there’s more than a dozen just along Broad Street, the main road.  How much we grow, and how much we change is what we get to decide. There’s talk that maybe we need even more traffic control – maybe a traffic circle.  Or is it a rotary?  I call them “round-abouts”. Ain’t that America?

No Brainer

Unless you’re completely crazy getting vaccinated against COVID makes sense.  If your vaccinated, you have a better than 90% chance of NOT getting the virus.  And if you do happen to get a “break-through” nfection, you are near 100% likely to avoid hospitalization, and/or death.   That’s what I call a “no-brainer” decision.  

So “no-brainer” that I got vaccinated as soon as I was able to.  Two weeks ago I got my booster shot, making for a total of three doses of the Pfizer vaccine.  And if tomorrow, they say I need a booster a month – so be it.  I don’t care that the US Government is paying Pfizer a whole lot for those shots, it’s a whole lot cheaper than the alternatives – people missing work, people in hospitals, people dying.

Spanish Flu

In case you missed it – more people died in the United States from COVID since February of 2020, then died in the Spanish Flu Epidemic of 1918.  More people died of COVD than died for both sides in the Civil War.  The United States – supposedly the most “modern” nation in the world, is the world leader in COVID deaths (though numbers from China and Russia are highly suspect).  So we are not a great example of how to handle this disease.

And what should we “chalk up” that failure to?  Why are so many more Americans dead – more than any other country in the world?  Even though we had the vaccines first, even though we supposedly have the best medical care (if you can afford it) in the world, even though we are AMERICA – we failed.

Because COVID in general, and the vaccines in particular, are wrapped up in politics. 

Mandate 

A couple of weeks ago, President Biden mandated that all Federal employees be vaccinated. That means all businesses of over 100 workers who do business with the US Government, require vaccination.  Why – the more people who get vaccinated, the fewer people spread the virus – duh!!

Keeping people from spreading the virus will slow down viral mutation, the biggest risk of all.  So vaccine mandates make sense.

Yesterday, Greg Abbott, the Governor of Texas, ordered all COVID vaccine mandates banned in the Lone Star State.  The Washington Post reported the Governor’s statement:

Abbott called the Biden administration’s sweeping plan “yet another instance of federal overreach,” saying in his order that the administration is “bullying” private entities into vaccine mandates, hurting the livelihoods of Texans and threatening the state’s economic recovery from the pandemic.

Livelihood

So let’s take just a moment to dissect the Governor’s statement.  There are two points that only make sense within the Texas borders.  It’s hard to see how getting a vaccine would hurt the livelihoods of Texans.  In fact, the word “livelihood” comes from the word “live” – something they would have a much greater chance of doing with the vaccine.  And it’s not vaccination that hurts the economy of Texas or anywhere else, it’s the disease the vaccination would prevent. People don’t go to work, they don’t gather in groups, they don’t go to restaurant – because of the virus – not the vaccination.

And to add full insult to idiocy, the Governor himself not only is vaccinated, but encourages others to get vaccinated.  So this isn’t about the “economy” or “over-reach” or even the poor, poor Texans being “bullied” into saving their own lives.  Nope – it’s about politics, and Governor Abbott’s run for a second term for the Big Chair in Austin.

Bullied

It’s Greg Abbott of the novel abortion ban.  Greg Abbott, who signed into law a restrictive voting measure that will keep Democrats from easily voting.  Greg Abbott who is trying to build his own WALL. Abbott is a Trump–Clone, but he’s still being out “Trumped” by two opponents in the Republican Primary.  So the Governor HAS to make a statement, make a move to get even “righter” with the Trump/Republican Party.  

And how can he do that?  By opposing everything that Joe Biden is for – and particularly by being against mandatory vaccination.  It’s not about what’s good or bad for Texas, it’s about what the small percentage of Republicans who vote in a primary want.  So to pander to the less than 12% of Texas voters who likely will participate in the 2022 Republican Primary (Texas), Greg Abbott is willing to put Texans, and the nation, at greater risk.

Big companies headquartered in Texas are now caught between two governments.  Ultimately it will be the Courts who decide whether Federal supremacy outweighs state’s rights.  But because many of those companies impact the entire nation, Southwest Airlines being a major example, what happens in Texas matters.  

And if you want an example of bullying – you don’t have to look much farther than what’s going on in Austin.  Governor Abbott is being “bullied”, but not by Joe Biden.  He’s being bullied by the small minority that dominates the Republican Party.  And so is the rest of the nation.

He is following instead of leading.  It’s bad for Texas, and bad for America as well.

From the Washington Post:

Southwest Airlines has canceled at least 1,800 flights this weekend, citing “disruptive weather” and air traffic control issues, although federal regulators attribute weekend service disruptions to airline staffing and aircraft issues.

Slipping Away

Southwest Airlines is the “happy” Airlines. “Happy” stands for “hang around positive people Y’All. At least that’s what the flight attendant (not a Stewardess, not anymore – for sure) told us yesterday.  Getting the message across – wear a mask, stay in your seat, don’t try to pretend the middle seat is taken – is all done with a joke and a smile.  But this weekend Southwest really wasn’t very happy – either in the positive sense or the pleasant sense.  And I got to travel right through the middle of it.

It all started on Saturday, for me, Saturday night.  We were at the “wake” for my cousin in Florida, who died last month.  As we were busy toasting and cheering, two of our party got the message. Their flights home (upstate New York) were cancelled.  As they battled on the phone to get through to Southwest reservations, their chances of getting home on Sunday slipped away, to Monday, and ultimately Tuesday.  Lubricated by Jameson’s Irish Whiskey and red wine, the invective was flowing in Southwest’s direction.  But swearing didn’t get an earlier re-reservation.

Rumor Control

The rumor – and it was really rumor – was that bad weather on the East Coast, especially Jacksonville, was delaying and even cancelling Southwest flights.  There was also the hint that maybe the Jacksonville Air Traffic Control center was short workers.  And as the flights got cancelled, the passengers were rebooked on later flights, cascading through Sunday and on into the week.  The strange thing was that no other airline seemed to be affected by the bad weather, of the ATC slowdown, or anything else.  Whatever was happening, it was a Southwest-only affair.

I was on Southwest for Sunday as well, but my straight-thru flight from Tampa to Columbus held up through Saturday evening.  And additional rumors started to come out.  Southwest had instituted the national vaccine mandate. Pilots, already stressed by too many flights and not enough pilots, were having an unofficial work slowdown.  The pilots’ association loudly denied that rumor, but something was definitely going on.

Wake Up Call

I slept well Saturday night, but Sunday morning started early – a text alarm from my phone at 6:17am.  Southwest Texting – my flight to Columbus was cancelled, click on a link to re-book.  I started to roll back over, I’d earned at least another hour’s sleep at the wake; but then I started thinking.  Everyone on that flight got the text, and they are all re-booking right now.  How long did I want to stay in Florida???

I will give Southwest credit, even with eyes half shut, the re-booking page was clear.  Flying from Tampa to Columbus on Sunday?  Here’s the list of flights.  Many were “unavailable”, full or already cancelled.  In fact, on the list for Sunday there was only one option – one seat left from Tampa to Dallas, and Dallas to Columbus.  I clicked.

By 6:27 I was all re-booked.  Now instead of leaving at 4 pm,  I had a 1:20 flight.  So I got up, drove to pay the family offering to Starbucks for the morning caffeination,  and waited for the rest of the “crew” to get up and get the news.  Our beachfront breakfast, out on the sand with the waves lapping in from the Gulf of Mexico was out.  Instead, it was breakfast in the hotel lobby, along with the homeless folks who hung out nearby. 

The Chosen 

It wasn’t just the pilots who were delaying things.  When I made it to the Tampa airport gate, the plane was all-ready to go, as were the airport staff.  Missing were the attending crew for the plane.  They were arriving on a flight from Denver, which was running late.  So there was no-go in Tampa for a while, hoping that the Denver flight would arrive and we could get on.

We ended up being about forty-five minutes late getting out of Tampa, not a problem for me with a two hour layover in Dallas.  But the specter of cancellation hung over everyone.  Even lining up to get on the plane, names were being called out of line, like prisoners being called back for further interrogation.  And when the “names” didn’t identify themselves, then it was “all passengers connecting to flights to Ontario (California), or Denver, or Kansas City.  Once they left the line, they never came back.  No going home for them tonight.

But we finally managed to get on the Dallas flight – a window seat!  I watched the Gulf Coast go by, flying over the familiar ground of Pensacola and Gulf Shores, Alabama.  I couldn’t find the Battleship Alabama docked in Mobile Bay, but definitely had a view of the Mississippi River from Port Hudson almost to Vicksburg.  And, thanks to Southwest, I was able to watch the Bengals game as well.

Just One Job

We arrived in Dallas, but couldn’t get out of the plane for a while.  As we watched the baggage get not so carefully, placed on the carts, there was no one to operate the “jet bridge” to get us in the terminal.   That’s when our flight attendant, who managed to joke her way through the entire flight, turned out to struggle with her “happy-ness” – she mentioned that the ‘p’s might stand for patience, rather than positive.  

After ten or so minutes we hit Dallas’s Love Field, home to Southwest.  It was stacked with passengers, worried about whether they would have a next flight.  Some were already looking for a place to bed down for the evening.  But there was plenty of food, I even had the opportunity to finally experience a “Whataburger” (now with In-and-Out Burgers, White Castles, and of course the Thurmaninator, my life is complete).  So whether the flight to Columbus made it out or not, I was sure of one thing – indigestion.

The Bengals finally lost as I waited for the flight home – after missing a game winning field goal attempt.  The Green Bay kicker, who already missed four in the game, managed to save himself a one way ticket  to stay in Cincinnati – and finally hit with two minutes left in overtime.

The Last Leg

The plane was there, the passengers lined up – but somehow, we weren’t getting on board.  It was an extra forty minutes or so, for “undetermined reasons”, before we actually got on the plane.  Buckle your seat belt – once on they’d have to pry us all back off if they changed their mind.

The flight from Dallas was uneventful – I slept most of the way.  We came up the Ohio River, then followed I-71 from Cincinnati straight to Grove City before making the turn for John Glenn International.  The baggage took forever to make it to the carousel, but finally I was loaded up on the “Parking Spot” bus headed back to the Jeep.

But the qwerty code failed to let me out – and I sat in the night, trying to convince the scanner that I really did pay my $30.  Someone “in charge” ultimately noticed my plight – and I finally was released for home. 

Here’s today’s addition to the Sunday Story Series.

My Bags Are Packed

This weekend I did something I haven’t done since – maybe 2017?  My cousin died last month in Florida, and this weekend was his memorial service.  I made a promise to him, three years ago, that I would give the eulogy at his funeral.  So this is it, I’m on the road (again?). 

It’s the age of COVID, and Florida isn’t the best place to go.  But a promise is a promise, even now. My first thought was to drive down.  That way, I would be contained in my own vehicle, able to control interactions with folks.  But that’s a problem – Tampa is about 1000 miles from Pataskala.  That’s a fifteen hour drive, by myself.  And that’s not the biggest concern.  Tampa (and back) is 130 gallons of gas.  At a simple $3.00 a gallon (and it’s more) that puts the cost at around $400.  So that’s two long days of driving, and twice the cost of an airplane ticket.

There I was, standing room only at Gate A6 in John Glenn International Airport of Columbus, Ohio.  My flight is scheduled to leave at 7:10 am.  That doesn’t sound so bad, if I were subbing at the high school I would be in the classroom by now.  But that’s not how it works.

 On The Road Again

It’s been a long time since I’ve flown, but some things haven’t changed.  Let’s see:  get to the airport an hour and a half before the flight to park the car, ride the shuttle, check my bag and get through security.  As always, when you get there early, that all happens really fast – and I’m standing in line at the airport Starbucks by 6:10.  But – cut things close, and it’s a late parking shuttle, they can’t find your ticket, the line at security is into the concourse, and, “…sir, step onto the second mat for a ‘personal’ security check”.  So better early than late.

All of that means that my alarm was set for 4:15 am.  But the dogs didn’t see it that way.  When the coffee pot went off by itself at four, our watchful Australian Shepherd mix KeeLie knew that wasn’t right.  So she alerted us all, that “what-the-Hell is going on” bark, that got three of the other dogs to join in the chorus.  So we all got up a little early, including Jenn who was looking forward to me sneaking out the door and some early peace and quiet.

Almost four years since I’ve flown.  I was on the way to the airport, going through a mental checklist.  Driver’s License – oh I did pay the extra money to have a “National” card, so I don’t need my passport.  Mask – and backup mask – and backup to the backup mask – and three more in my luggage:  I’m not going to be THAT guy on the plane.  The gatekeeper just announced that you don’t have to wear a mask – they’ll just bring in the “guys” to remove you and make you a viral “star” for fifteen seconds.  Can I still take my Starbucks on the plane with me?  Can I drink it when I do?  Lots of rules have changed since the last time we flew to New York City with our friends.

Who Are You

And it’s Southwest Airlines with what we used to call “Festival Seating” in the concerts days.  It means there are no assigned seats – everyone just gets on and finds a place.  150 passengers for 153 seats, no COVID distancing here; it’s just like the good old days.  I was boarding order B, number 42.  That’s basically the last person on the plane – but somehow there was an aisle seat left. 

The trip to Tampa was uneventful – read a few paragraphs about the Civil War in the American Southwest, then sleep for fifteen minutes.  Arrive, stand in line for an hour to get the rental car, then hangout and wait for the rest of the family to come in from Cleveland.

Celebrate Good Times

Funerals are always strange.  Of course they are sad, the missing person at the party is obvious.  Most of the funerals I’ve gone to recently have been older folks, so while there’s always sorrow, there’s not the sharp, cutting loss of a younger person.  And they have all the formulas of a more “normal” activity:  food, drink, introduction, conversation,  and toasts to the lost and the bereaved.  In short – it’s a party by some other name.

And the process of “funeral” has another purpose:  distraction.  Those closest are forced to deal with all the ceremony, the process, the “party” planning.  So here near Tampa the “party” started Friday evening and will go on through Monday, when finally, despite Southwest Airlines best attempts to strand everyone here, they’ll all go home.

My departed cousin was an interesting man (I wrote about him soon after his death several weeks ago – My Cousin Brendan).   He lived his life in chapters – growing up in England, coming to Cincinnati, a marriage in Chicago, and his final chapter remarried to Mary in Tampa.  The attendees at the service were from the three America chapters, and most were unaware of the other sections.  You could hear the “oh I didn’t know that” even in the church, a “High Episcopal” service complete with mass and the priests sprinkling holy water, the “aspergillum”  

Finnegan’s Wake

My cousin was a well-loved member of the congregation, and his wife stood by him in his long final illness.  You could feel the support for Mary from the two Fathers who led the church, and all the members who provided the after-service lunch.

The head minister is named “Father Ray”, a man of Asian ancestry.  The small church is built on a peninsula between two roads, and the site was an Episcopal Church since the late 1800’s.  The founder of the congregation is buried in the churchyard, a monument marking his grave.  He was a Civil War veteran, a Captain in Robert E. Lee’s Army of Virginia.  As Father Ray said, Confederate or not, he was a good man.  He gave the land to the church and built the first chapel.  

Every Confederate Memorial Day, a “Rebel” flag appears at the foot of the grave.  As Father Ray told me the story, members of the congregation wonder why he allows the flag to stay for a while.  The Father said, “…they’re simply honoring the dead.  Besides, the Captain and others in the church graveyard don’t seem too upset that their Church is now run by the ‘Asian Mafia’.”   

Our family descends from Ireland.  At Saturday’s dinner it was no surprise that Irish tradition was followed.  The Jameson’s whiskey was the “holy water” of the evening, and as befits Brendan’s English public school education, three cheers were made for the deceased: Hip-Hip, Hooray; Hip-Hip Hooray; Hip-Hip, Hooray.  There’s a cheer for Mary as well – her long struggle is over too.

It’s early Sunday morning.  I got a 6 am wakeup call, despite the Jameson’s.  Southwest cancelled my flight; now instead of a straight shot home, I’m headed out five hours earlier to Dallas to connect to John Glenn.  Hopefully they don’t cancel any more flights today.

• The Sunday Story Series
• Riding the Dog  – 1/24/21
• Hiking with Jack – 1/31/21
• A Track Story – 2/7/21
• Ritual – 2/14/21
• Voyageur – 2/19/21
• A Dog Story – 2/25/21
• A Watkins Legend – 3/7/21
• Ghosts at Gettysburg – 3/14/21
• Lessons from the State Meet – 3/28/21
• More Lessons from the State – 4/4/21
• Stories from the Road – 4/11/21
• A Bear Wants You – 5/1/21
• My Teachers – 5/9/21
• Old Friends  – 5/23/21
• The Gift – 6/6/21
• Echoes of Mom – 6/20/21
• Stories of the Fourth – 7/3/21
• Running Memories – 7/25/21
• Lost Dog of Eldora – 8/1/21
• Dogs and Medals – 8/8/21
• The New Guy – 9/5/21
• Stories of 9-11 – 9/12/21
• The Interview – 9/26/21
• Night Moves – 10/3/21
• Funeral for a Friend – 10/11/21

Founding Fathers

The United States Constitution is hailed at the greatest “democratic” document in world history.  It even begins with the fateful words, “We The People”.  But that’s not really true.  The Constitution, especially the original seven Articles, were not particularly “democratic” at all.  

Many of the Founding Fathers were dubious about “democracy”.  They expressed as much worry about “mob rule” as they did for the autocratic rule they experienced under England’s King George III.  And while history teachers talk a lot about Jeffersonian “yeoman farmers”, in the end the Founding Fathers were members of the establishment of the colonies, and their own economic interests were just as important.

Competing Interests

The question was how to balance all of the competing interests: the need for a national government, the demands for individual state autonomy, protecting the wealth of the “establishment” (including those who enslaved people), and advancing the democratic principles they believed in as Enlightenment scholars.  So they developed a system that included all of those ideas.  The national government gained significant powers, particularly when it came to raising and spending money.  

And the Constitutional Convention recognized that the nation they were creating was vast.  Roads were often rough, and it took months for information to journey from the capital in New York to the hinterlands.  So it made perfect sense to diffuse powers for certain actions to the states.  The states were closer to the people, with the state capitals days versus weeks or months away.  So functions like education and elections were placed in the state government’s hands.

Democracy

The Constitution assumes two areas of “democracy”:  the state legislatures, and the federal House of Representatives.  Those were the only two original bodies where representatives were directly chosen by the people.  Until the 17th Amendment in 1913 Senators were chosen by the state legislatures rather than by direct election, though many states held elections and honored the choice.  

And the President of the United States famously is not directly chosen “by the people”. Instead, the people vote for a “slate of electors” pledged to vote for their candidate in the electoral college.  So when an Ohio voter selected Biden for President, they were actually voting for eighteen electors pledged to Biden.  Since Trump won the majority of Ohio’s vote, the eighteen electors pledged to him were actually certified to the Congress as Ohio’s choice.

Legal Precedent

But there’s a deeper secret here.  In Article II of the Constitution, the “people” voting for President actually isn’t mentioned at all.  The wording is:  “Each state shall appoint, in such manner as the Legislature thereof may direct, a number of electors…”  So the way that electors are chosen is a matter for the state legislature, not a Constitutional guarantee. 

That means it seems Constitutionally possible for a state legislature to ignore the popular vote, and select the electors “they” want.  But that’s a “radical” interpretation of the Constitution.  There’s two hundred and thirty-five years of legal precedence recognizing the role of the popular vote in selecting electors for President.  If a state decided to ignore the popular outcome and choose the “losing” electors as their representatives, it’s likely that Congress would refuse to recognize them, and Courts might intervene. As Harvard Law Professor Laurence Lessig puts it: “…the constitutional duty that the legislatures have is, like the electors, to respect the vote of their people (USA Today).”

Muddy the Count

But there’s a more insidious movement afoot in today’s America.  State legislatures aren’t likely to ignore the clear outcome of an election, but they are “muddying” the results to confuse the final conclusion. Many states are passing laws allowing the legislatures to meddle in the count, determine which votes to accept and reject, and, if necessary, change the vote counters to gain a “better” outcome.  So while those states may still be endorsing “the will of the people” when they certify Presidential elections, they are also attempting to control whar “will” they receive.

How can a state legislature, elected by the people, then take away the people’s power to make electoral decisions?  That answer is relatively simple.  State legislatures have the power to determine their own legislative districts.  By gerrymandering districts, one political view can gain power disproportionate to their actual numbers.  For example, here in Ohio the lower house is Republican 64 to 35, a super-majority of 66%.  But in polling, 42% of Ohioans claim to be or lean towards Republican, 40% Democrat, and 18% Independent (Pew).  In the 2020 Presidential election, Trump won by 53% while Biden got 45%.  

Who Counts

Ohio is not two-thirds Republican, but our legislature is.  That’s true in several other “swing” states throughout the nation.  And those legislatures don’t feel bound to “the will of the people”, as they have managed to gerrymander the opposing party’s vote to a small minority.  It’s not really much of a step then, to “manage” the outcome of a Presidential election as well.  Nine states already have enacted restrictive laws, including key Presidential states.  Proposals are in the works in many other states.

All of this is being done under the guise of “election security” and restoring “the people’s trust” in elections.  But, despite the continuing cries of a defeated President, there was no election fraud, just sour grapes.  The distrust he managed to sow has created fertile ground for subverting the electoral process, and the state legislatures are leading the way.

So who will defend the “will of the people” in 2024?  If not the state legislatures, then what about the Congress? 

That’s what makes the Congressional elections of 2022 so important.

Bombs

I was a history/political science major at Denison University in Granville, Ohio.  One of the early courses I took was Poli Sci –360, titled  “Problems in American National Security”.  The short name for the course was “Bombs”.  It was about the “theories” behind the nuclear standoff of the Cold War, and how the United States and the Soviet Union faced each other.

It was the mid-1970’s, and studying nuclear war was hardly an esoteric exercise.  Two nations had the ultimate power to destroy the world. Both were poised on a hair trigger to do it.  And with the advent of computerization, that trigger was becoming more automated.  The proverbial finger on the button was more likely to be a series of binary equations adding up to “launch”.

MAD

We learned terms like “Mutual Assured Destruction”(MAD). That’s the idea that both sides knew full well that there was no winner in an all-out nuclear exchange.  Odd, that the ultimate power to destroy the world was held back by weakness:  if they can destroy us, we should not attack them.  In fact, the greatest risk of war, was if one side found a “new tool”allowing them to survive the all-out war.  If one side could live to be “the winner”, then the other side was ultimately vulnerable.  

The only choice that vulnerable side would have would be to attack:  to launch a “First Strike” all-out nuclear war, before the new tool could be fully implemented.  The two greatest threats for nuclear war were “accidental” triggers, and one side getting too great an advantage.

And so the US and Soviet Union engaged in a series of technological races, to build a “better bomb”.  The Soviets built bigger, the biggest bomb ever detonated. It was the 1961 “Tsar Bomb” at fifty megatons (equivalent to fifty million tons of TNT) and 3800 times more powerful than the Hiroshima bomb.  And that was only at “half power”.  Even the Soviets were unwilling to try a 100 megaton blast.   The United States went for targeting accuracy. There was no need to make the bombs bigger if they could land them directly on their targets.  

The Edge

And both sides engaged in “brinksmanship”; moving as close to the edge of nuclear war as they could, without stepping over the line.  The Cuban Missile Crisis was the most obvious example, but there were other, less known confrontations where the world was at risk.  It was in 1983, a few weeks after the Soviets shot down a Korean Air Lines passenger flight. Soviet defense computers detected five US missiles launched.  A Soviet Lieutenant Colonel, Stanislav Petrov, acting on his own, determined that this had to be a mistake. He stopped the “automatic” launch response.  

Petrov was right:  the computers were in error.  And if he hadn’t acted, it’s likely nuclear war would have begun on the 26th of September.  His decision ended his military advancement, but it ultimately was seen as saving the world (US Park Service). 

Bankruptcy

The Cold War ended when the United States invested over half a trillion dollars in a “space based” defense program.  The program was Strategic Defense Initiative, nicknamed “Star Wars”. It hoped to put satellites in space that could intercept any Soviet missiles fired against the United States.  The Soviets tried to match the investment with their own programs, and the race became as much about money as weapons.  Ultimately, “Star Wars” didn’t work. But that and a failed war in Afghanistan bankrupted the Soviet economy and caused the fall of the Communist government.

 If “Star Wars” had worked, it likely would have triggered a nuclear war.  The Soviets would have been forced to launch, before a “Star Wars” system could be put in place, otherwise, Mutual Assured Destruction would be over, and they would be ultimately vulnerable.  The United States “played” on the edge of nuclear destruction, and won economically:  brinksmanship.

Thirty years after “Star Wars”, the United States and Russia still have hundreds of weapons aimed at each other.  While the likelihood of nuclear devastation is less, we still have our missiles, bombers and submarines poised to strike.  And access to nuclear weapons is spreading to less-stable regimes:  North Korea likely has “the bomb”, and Iran is working on one as well.

Economic Edge

Today the United States government is “playing” a different kind of brinksmanship.  The “debt ceiling” was created during World War I, to allow the government room to borrow money to prosecute the war.  The debt ceiling is like a credit card limit, with one big difference.  The money is already spent:  Congress has already passed the laws spending the money.  So failing to raise the debt ceiling is  simply refusing to pay for money already spent.

If the United States fails to raise the debt ceiling, then the government begins to default on its debts.  A failure of the US to pay its debts will create an economic crisis in the world,where the US Dollar is the bedrock currency.  Even the talk of failing to honor the debt is causing economic repercussions.  

The House of Representatives already voted to raise the ceiling and pay the bills of the United States.  But the Senate has not.  Republicans are voting against it as a fifty vote block.  In addition, the Republicans are also filibustering passage, creating the requirement that sixty Senators agree.  And since the Senate is fifty-fifty, either ten Republican Senators must change their mind, or the fifty Democrats need to change the rules and end the filibuster for this issue, with Vice President Harris adding her vote to break the tie.

There is a third option, the convoluted “budget reconciliation” process that circumvents the filibuster.  But reconciliation takes time, a long series of votes, and can only be used for a limited number to times in a session.  

Winners and Losers

Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell sees the deadlock as a “win-win-win” situation for his Republicans.  He is depending on the Democrats to pass a debt ceiling increase, either using the reconciliation process or by breaking the filibuster.  If they use reconciliation, then they can’t use it for other issues (like the Build-Back-Better infrastructure plan).  If Democrats vote to break the filibuster, then McConnell will be able to campaign on the “Democrats spending us into inflation”.  And if they don’t pass a debt ceiling increase – then the “Democrats can’t govern”.  

Senate Majority Leader Chuck Schumer and President Biden also see a “win-win”.  If the Republicans continue to refuse to raise the ceiling, then they are “playing politics with the American economy”.  And if Schumer and Biden refuse to use reconciliation, then they may force the “swing” Democrats to break the filibuster rule. That’s something they need for other legislation, like the voting rights acts.

Of course, all of this is premised on the idea that somewhere, somehow, the Senate WILL pass the debt ceiling, and that further damage to the US and world economies will be avoided.   But that all depends on a “Colonel Petrov” moment.  Either two Democratic Senators vote to break the filibuster (with forty-eight of their fellow Democrats), or ten Republican Senators vote with the Democrats, to lift the debt ceiling.  Some members of the Senate will need to see the catastrophe ahead, and decide to stop the “automatic response”.

Or the US defaults on its debts and our economy, along with the rest of the world’s, goes over the brink. 

Hate and Division

Facebook claims that are not the primary cause of “hate and division” in America.  And the company is absolutely right.  The issues that divide us have been around for a lot longer than Mark Zuckerberg’s algorithms.  Hate in America is nothing new.  It’s been the dirty underside of American history since well before the signing of the Declaration of Independence (and if you think that describes “Critical Race Theory”, you are misinformed).  

But what Facebook has managed to do is individualize and amplify that hate and division.  We get a “custom made cocktail”, delivered to our “newsfeed” on a minute by minute basis.  And, like any good addictive activity, the more we click, the more we get.  Psychologist B.F. Skinner would be pleased.  We press the bar just like his mice did back in the 1940’s, receiving our “rewards” with our own version of his operant conditioning cage that fits in our pocket.  And the more we click, the more specific the information Facebook directs to us, and the more we want to press.

Addiction

Why don’t we turn it off?  Facebook’s model is based on the same principal as any addiction – we have an emotional response to the information.  And that response is “pleasurable”, even if the emotion is anger.  So we click on, seeking even more emotion, more “pleasure”.  And Facebook provides a seemingly endless supply. 

Facebook will tell you that’s why we love the puppy pictures, and the stories of our friend’s young kids.  But if “pleasure” is measured by the level of emotional response, then the biggest emotion isn’t positive, it’s negative.  Anger is more powerful, and anger makes you click even more.  

None of this is rocket science.  But the not so hidden “dirty secret” of Facebook, is that they have developed mathematical equations to “feed” emotional response.  Facebook makes money by clicks, so it is in their specific economic interest to get more people to click more.  And since negative emotions are the most powerful, it is best for Facebook profits to generate those emotions. 

Profit from All Sides

Facebook doesn’t necessarily take a side in the controversy.  The equation doesn’t care who wins or whose right or wrong.  It’s the controversy itself that makes Facebook money.  There are 221.6 million Facebook users in the United States, fully two-thirds of the nation.  Not every user is “addicted”.  But every user is influenced by targeted controversy, and those who are more vulnerable; the young, the disaffected, the lonely – they keep clicking, and keep getting angrier.

The deeper they go, the more their emotions are validated.  They find companions in their anger, who then feed each other.  Facebook claims they are just a platform, a “town square” where people of all ideologies can meet.  But the Facebook equations do more than just lead you into the square, they direct you to those in the square who agree with you.  And like that mythical square, divided into ideologies and cliques, emotions run high.  And the Facebook cash register keeps ringing up profits.

Regulation

When television first came out in the 1940’s, the government took control of what was allowed.  This was because there was a limited amount of bandwidth on the airways.  Put simply, there were only so many TV channels, and the government licensed who could broadcast on any given channel.  To keep a license, stations were required to regulate what went on the air.  Break those rules, and the government could take the license and give it to someone else.

Those rules changed when cable television arrived in the 1970’s. Unlike the “public airways”, cable television used privately owned cables to reach their subscribers homes.  The cable providers, Time Warner (now Spectrum) and the like, were originally simple conduits for other programming.  If a program was “inappropriate”, then the cable viewer should simply choose not to watch it.  Don’t want what cable TV delivered, then go back to broadcast.  The government had little control over the programming, or the literal wires bringing it into homes.

In the 1990’s, media became more than just a one-way interaction.  With the arrival of the “internet”, people could inter-connect across all kinds of boundaries.  It was virtually uncontrolled by governments; the “wires” were still privately owned, and the “web” regulated by non-governmental entities.  So when Friendster and MySpace replaced AOL chatrooms, there wasn’t much worry about government intervention.  And when Mark Zuckerberg developed the key equations to empower Facebook, it’s growth and development was unrestricted.

Price to Pay

We govern automobile safety because the vehicles use public roads.  We still govern television stations because they use the public airways.  But social media comes to use through privately owned sources and methods.  And like the cable providers, Facebook claims to only be a “platform”, not responsible for the content or actions of those using it.  But we now know that Facebook (and Instagram and What’s App, also owned by Facebook) are manipulating their platform to generate emotion and gain more profit.  And so does Twitter and TikTok and the other social media giants.

Government can’t use the broadcast model to regulate social media.  But there is a whole different product that governments regularly control – alcohol and drugs.  Facebook (and the rest) mathematically manipulate their users, similar to what drugs and alcohol do chemically. That manipulation creates societal discord – and we should regulate their actions.  Ask the public schools who paid millions of dollars for damage to restrooms created by a TikTok trend, or the US government itself for damage to the Capitol during the Insurrection.  There are very real costs from social media, costs our entire society is paying in dollars, and in discord.  

We need to get it under control.  It’s already too late.

• Essays About Facebook
• I’m Not the Customer – 4/4/18
• Listening to Mark – 4/11/18
• Zuckerberg – We Hate/Love/Pay You  6/9/19
• Buying Votes – 11/8/19
• Freedom to Post – 5/25/21
• On the Square – 10/5/21