Backyard Breakfast

Sometimes the simple things, those close to home, can be most appealing. I am not a fan of pets, and having been raised on the farm, do not want animals living inside my house. But I do enjoy wildlife very much.

In our backyard, I have reserved one section to stay "natural", that is, desert sand and desert plants. On that little patch of ground I keep several water bowls, and a block of birdseed. Plants include creosote bush, yucca and several kinds of cactus

I also have a birdbath and three hummingbird feeders. Before we discovered the seed blocks, we sprinkled bird seed on the ground. That attracted no less than 100 doves each day.
We have three kinds of doves: mourning doves, white-winged doves and small, Inca doves. They scarfed that birdseed in about ten minutes, leaving none for other birds. For some reason, the doves cannot devour seed in the blocks so quickly, and one block will last for a few weeks.

This ever present source of seed results in several covey of Gambel's quail spending most of their time in our yard. And there are lots of small sparrow sized birds (house finches, etc.) who are ever present.

In addition to all the birds, my little patch of desert is also home to one small turtle. I have not checked his pedigree, but calling it a box turtle is probably close.

This morning I was entertained by these various creatures enjoying their breakfast. First to appear was a roadrunner. Unlike the cartoon version, real roadrunners are not so innocent. This one eased close to the seed block where a group of sparrow-sized birds were picking at the seed. In a flash he snagged one bird. For several minutes he held it in his ample beak, slamming it against the ground. I thought he was dislodging feathers and expected him to eat the bird hawk style, by holding it with one foot and picking the meat off with his beak. Nope. I think the slamming was to make certain it was dead, because his next act was to swallow it whole, feet, feathers and all.

He tried several times to catch another bird, but they had become too cautious. Roadrunners also eat small lizards and they love raw hamburger.

We put some dry bread near the seed block this morning. Dry bread always attracts grackles who pick up every chunk they can and put it in the water bowls. They dip the bread repeatedly, then just go get another piece. I never see them eat the wet bread and the next time I fill the bowls they are always half full of soggy bread, which I dump.

Our little box turtle crawled up near our back door. My wife cut a piece of cucumber into small slices for him. He loved the cucumber and ate it all.

While all this was going on, a group of quail ran across the yard and attacked the seed block. Quail are interesting birds. While they are good fliers, they prefer to be on the ground. That is also true of the roadrunner. He can run very fast and usually will not fly unless threatened.

I often think of the drama that takes place in every little ecosystem. Be it a patch of woods, a pond, or a rocky mountain slope, it's wild occupants are in a day to day struggle to find food for themselves, and to prevent their becoming food for someone else.

Plants are not exempt from this struggle. Consequently, nearly every desert plant has thorns of some kind. Over the eons, it is the thorniest plants which have survived.

Joan of Arc, Where are you?

I held my tongue during the recent protests in France... the ones where French youth were protesting a proposed law that said they could, indeed, be fired from their job.

During those protests a lot of Americans were scratching their heads. To illustrate our inability to understand the position the young French were taking, let me recall an incident from the mid-1960s. At that time a group of Kansas farm boys went to the Soviet Union to participate in a cultural exchange.

When they returned they were asked for their impression of Soviet farming methods. The one story they all wanted to tell, and laugh about, was that there was a five o'clock whistle on the collective farms. When the whistle blew... everyone quit for the day and went home.

What made it so funny to them was that baled hay, or other crops, were often left in the fields when rain was forecast. On their Kansas farms, as on farms all over the United States, farmers know that hay bales left in the rain will likey grow mold and be ruined. If you have baled your hay in the afternoon and rain is likely, you continue working to get that hay picked up and hauled to the barn, regardless of the hour. I personally have hoisted bales of hay onto a horse-drawn or tractor-drawn wagon late into the night.

And, when you finally do crawl in bed and you hear thunder and hear rain pounding down, you have a wonderful sense of pride that you did your job so well your crop was not destroyed.

It seems the French youth are being denied the opportunity to feel pride in their work. In fact, it seems they are being taught not to be proud of their work. The lesson is, just put in your time and draw your pay. If you quit too early... if you screw up... don't worry, you will not be punished... you cannot be fired!

To me, this is anti-French. France has a proud history. They did not become the nation they are by shirking their duty, and letting the government protect them when they failed. The heroes of France's past were the kind of people who did get their hay out of the field. Whatever the task - whomever the foe, they persevered and they triumphed.

Now, one has to wonder if this new generation of Frenchmen will ever again triumph over a powerful adversary... be the battle economic, scientific or military.

One can only hope that the genes of the great French heroes are still present in some French youth, and will some day make their presence known.

Free Speech?

I am a full supporter of free speech - with one small qualification. Since when did vulgarity become speech? Free Speech should pertain to expressing ideas, good or bad, with no reprisals.

If you do not like the government, or any other public entity, you should be free to say so. If you have some new ideas on how things could be done, you should be free to say so.

But to many, Free Speech means any utterance that can come out of your mouth - or that you can write or draw - should be protected.

The constitution prohibits Congress from passing laws that would, in any way, inhibit the free flow of opinions and ideas. But it says nothing about protecting the guy who wants to exhibit his lack of consideration for other people's sensibilities.

Yes, some will say that what offends one person is an expression of an idea or opinion to someone else, so there can be no dividing line. But, I say that is bogus. If you were asked to give a talk before a class of first graders and their mothers, no one would have to explain to you what constitutes offensive language. You would just know.

Today it is popular to make your statement by way of a bumper sticker, or a printed T-shirt.
This weekend I saw a young teen boy with a T-shirt that said, "Poker? I hardly know her." Nice.

A young girl had a shirt that said, "Drop and give me twenty." An adult woman's shirt said, "Manure Happens." Another girl's shirt said, "This is your boyfriend's shirt." A man's shirt had a picture of a dog and the text, "Whose leg do I have to hump around here to get a beer?" Another man's shirt read, "I am trying to see things from your point of view but I can't get my head far enough up my ass."

There are bumper stickers that say, "Mean people suck. Nice people swallow.", "I know Jack Shit.", etc., etc.

I just can't imagine why anyone would want to advertise that they are coarse, vulgar, and indifferent to what may offend their fellow human beings.

And, speaking of advertising, why in the world do people pay good money for clothing that has the manufacturer's name emblazoned across the front or back? And why do they pay tens of thousands of dollars for an automobile, then have a fifty-cent plastic frame around their license plate with the auto dealer's name, phone and web address imprinted?

In making TV commercials, I have always been very careful when I chose someone to give a testimonial for my product. My theory is that a person giving a testimonial is sending two messages: First is what they are saying. Second is what message their appearance is sending. A person may say your product is great. But if they just look stupid, viewers may well feel they do not want to take advice from an idiot.

The same applies to T-shirts and license plate frames. If you wear a T-shirt with a vulgar saying, I am reading the message that you are lacking in culture or education, or feelings, or something else - but definitely lacking.

If you bought an expensive automobile to impress me with your success, then use it to display a crude bumper sticker or a cheap license plate frame, I will conclude that you don't come close to being the person you would like me to think you are.

A Weekend With The Military

This past weekend my wife participated as a vendor in a craft show at Ft. Bliss, Texas. The show was a fund-raiser for some charitable activities by Army wives at the base.

I'll admit to being biased - I did a short stretch in the Army in 1946 and 1947 - and found much to admire.

The Army has changed a lot in 60 years, but some things never change. We still found the soldiers (male and female) to be clean, neat and ever so courteous and friendly. The show was held in a big gymnasium which was kept spotless at all times.

Anyone who has not recently had a close encounter with the Army should try to learn if there are any public events at your nearest post. If found, make plans to attend.

The whole idea of "Support Our Troops" takes on a new meaning when you spend a few hours around these guys. My wife's first impression was, "They're just babies!". Indeed, they do seem young, but I was just 17 when I joined the Army and I certainly did not consider myself a baby. Nor did the Army. We were always called "men", though we were really only boys.

I asked one of the soldiers about the scenes in the movies where a nom-com gets right in someone's face and yells at him. He said it does happen, buy does not anger him.

I am afraid it would anger me. My immediate C.O. was a First Lieutenant. He treated his men so well, we would have gone to the end of the earth for him.

Among my souvenirs, I still have a note from him, addressed to the men in our department, wishing us a Merry Christmas (1946) and expressing his understanding that for most of us it was our first Christmas so far from home (Tacloban, Leyte, P.I.)

Would I have saved, for 60 years, any communication from a guy who had screamed in my face? Unlikely.

The gender thing was a bit new for me. There were women in the Women's Army Corps, the WACS, when I was in the Army, but they were widely separated from the male soldiers.

Also, in the mid-1940s, races were kept in separate encampments. Now soldiers of all races and both genders freely work together and it makes you question Army policies toward race and gender during World War Two.

Many off-duty soldiers attended last weeks event in civilian clothing. I asked a soldier from Puerto Rico about dress rules. Yes, they are permitted to wear civilian clothing on base. In fact, he said, there are some jobs where soldiers actually wear civilian clothes on duty. (That never happened in the 1940s. Once I was issued a uniform I saw no more civilian clothing until I was discharged.

But, uniform or no, it was never a problem identifying the soldiers. Even in civvies, their good health and neat appearance had Army written all over it. That was particularly evident when contrasted with a civilian teen with long, dirty hair, pants that barely stayed above his hips, while the pant legs dragged the ground and were dirty and badly frayed.

And, there was a bit of a sad side. One craftsman, who happened to be a soldier himself, sold some Army posters which he neatly matted and framed. One showed a painting of a group of soldiers approaching a building, wearing today's style Army uniforms, rifles at ready - obviously painted from a scene in Iraq.

Two women stopped at his display and the younger of the two studied the poster for a moment, then started to cry. The older woman, probably her mother, comforted her. When the younger woman walked away, the older woman whispered, "she lost her husband in Iraq."

That made you want to embrace the young soldiers - and try somehow to convey your love and appreciation for them. But, alas, it is not proper to cuddle a warrior - even if it is a very young warrior, and you are a very old man.

Small Group - Big Mouths

I wonder if your town, like mine, is being directed in one way or another by a small but vocal group that manages to get themselve heard in high places.

Our city government recently banned all ground audible and high bursting fireworks. My home is on high ground, overlooking the city. Last July 4, my wife and I dragged out a ladder and climbed to the roof for an even better view. Our city lies along the Rio Grande and we could see all of the valley, from north to south.

From one end to the other, there was a spectacular fireworks display. It lasted for about an hour and was something to see. But, some dog owners protested that their animals were traumatized by the noise and managed to make a lot more noise before the city council. Hence the ban.

We have a "Farmer's and Crafts Market" each Wednesday and Saturday morning. It is held on city property. Some people bring their dogs with them to visit the market. I, as a vendor, consider the dogs a major nuisance. Recently a number of other vendors circulated a petition to have the city ban dogs at the market. I was not present for the petition signing and just read of it in the newspaper.

One day I watched a man with two small dogs, on leashes, stroll through the market. One of the dogs pulled his owner toward a low grass planter on the mall. The man allowed the dog to jump into the planter and stood watching as the dog crapped in the planter. Then, the man and his dogs proceeded on their way, without cleaning up.

Recently two elderly women walked through the market with a small dog on a leash. As they approached our display, the dog edged up to our display and hiked his leg to urinate. I yelled "Hey!" at the top of my voice. That startled the dog and he stopped what he was about to do. It also startled the dog's owner, who looked at me in surprise. I said, "Your dog was about to wet on our display!" She just looked at me and said, "Didn't you ever have to go?", and walked away.

Again, the vocal dog lovers prevailed, persuading the city government not to ban dogs from the market.

The most sought after thing in America

Everywhere you turn, everyone is searching for the same thing: Blame.

You don't hear anyone stand up and say, "Wow, I did the wrong thing. I am responsible." No one uses that old-fashioned rhetoric and more.

The New Orleans residents who decided not to evacuate their homes ahead of the coming hurricane, and were subsequently flooded, blame the mayor, the governor, FEMA, George Bush.

Natalie Holloway's mother blames the government of Aruba and perhaps, Holland, but certainly not her daughter's possible reckless behavior.

The government is blaming some employee for leaking the news of the phone wire tapping, and blaming the New York Times of endangering American security for publishing the story.

A bus or a train wrecks and everyone is trying to decide who to blame.

An airplane crashes into a river and everyone is trying to determine who to blame.

This is largely an American phenomenon. Or, at minimun a feature of the more affluent Western nations. Walk down the street of some poorer community in Mexico. If there is a sidewalk at all, you may suddenly find broken or missing concrete. With your head in the air, you could fall on your face. The rule here is, watch where you're going or pay the consequences. In America someone could feint a fall, then blame, and later sue, the city, the owner of adjacent property, the company that built the original sidewalk, and perhaps even the company that mixed the concrete.

There always has to be someone you can blame, and in our society that means you could go to court and force them to support you for the rest of your life.

How can we change this? There is a long term solution: parents teaching their children to take responsibility for their actions.

In the short term, we might put a stop to frivolous lawsuits.

They'll Never Know!

The other night I saw a television program with Kenny Rogers and Lyle Richey. Their music was great, but I was struck by how old Kenny Rogers looked. I should not have been. How long ago was it when we listened to those first great recordings by Kenny and The First Edition? Forty years? Fifty years? I can't remember the dates.

But that started me thinking about the great entertainers of my lifetime, musicians, comedians, dramatic actors, who are now dead.

Yes, I can still enjoy their original works, thanks to recordings and film. And each of those recorded performances brings back a flood of memories from when I first heard or saw them.

Today many young people - who were not yet born when those recordings were made - are also enjoying the works of those great artists. But they did not enjoy the experience of hearing them when they were fresh and new, when the performances were more relevant to the times. So they will never really know what those original performances meant to us.

Eventually the old recordings will finally wear out. The music and the lyrics will become entirely irrelevant, and all the old performers and their fans will be dead. The thrills of the 20th century will be forgotten.

But, hasn't it always been that way? Of course, the great works of art and the classical music scores still endure. But the popular entertainment of the day does not.

Future generations will never know... and never care.

The Dumbing Down Of America

Perhaps you have heard Jay Leno (on TV) or Sean Hannity (on radio) interviewing passers by, asking questions about politics and current news events. Questions like, "Who is the Vice President of the United States?" or "Who is John Roberts?". The vast majority of the people interviewed cannot answer either of those questions.

Okay, so you may shrug that one off - until election day! I heard one college student say she would not support President Bush because he lied. Never mind that he did not lie. This person did not even know who was Vice President.

Researchers tell us that politicians use negative TV advertising because it works. Now it is clear why it works. Most people learn all they know about politics from political ads.

That news is alarming enough, but there is more bad news. Statistics show that American students have little interest in studying science. At least, after the fourth grade. Younger children are fascinated by science, but after about the fourth grade they lose interest.

Not so with students in China, Japan and India. They love science, are willing to work hard to learn it, and they excel in all subjects scientific.

The result is that America is falling behind in technology... the very field that has driven our economy and led us to global superiority.

Why is this happening? I think there are several reasons. One is that it is not cool to be a "nerd" or a "geek", as kids with a scientific bent are labeled. And, it takes a lot more work to learn the language of electronics, chemistry, computers... all engineering and scientific fields. There are so many fun things for American students to do, who wants to spend your evenings poring over a text book?

Hollywood has not helped. Movies long ago vilified people in business. Remember "Beverly Hillbillies?" The banker on that program was a money-hungry idiot. Then they progressed to movies about "nerds". The campus they projected is now a reality. The athletes are the heroes.
The kid carrying a high grade point average in chemistry or electrical engineering is invisible.

And, our elementary education system is way out of whack. In my state, kids no longer get and "A" or a "B" on their report card, and certainly no child will ever get an "F"... that could destroy their self-esteem. Instead, they are graded as "Proficient", at the top of the scale and "Emerging" at the bottom. How are they going to learn chemistries periodic tables or the natural laws that define electronics when they cannot even read?

How can we reverse this trend? Maybe we should publicize the employment opportunities in various fields. While I believe that a liberal arts education is a valuable thing, that degree will not get you a job.

Maybe we should de-emphasize sports... just a little?

Can we glorify scientific achievement? Or even recognize that it is important to stay abreast of current events?

All I can say is that we had better do something, and do it now.

Nikita Kruschev once said the Soviet Union would bury America economically. Communism could not do that, but knowledge can. We cannot afford to let our nation get any dumber.

Border Deterioration

I have been very much opposed to all the talk about closing our southern border. As someone who lives within forty miles of Mexico, and a frequent visitor to Mexico, I am more familiar with the border than most. Our southern border was drawn through farms and communities (and Indian reservations), separating people from friends and relatives. For the most part, people lived with this separation, shopping, visiting, even marrying across the border.

There really are jobs on the U.S. side of the border that no Americans want to take. But there are plenty of Mexicans who will do these jobs. It works for everyone.

However, things have changed. The news media has publicized widely the fact that it is easy to cross the border. Consequently, hordes of criminals saw border crossing (into the U.S.) as a way to commit crimes - mostly burglaries - and slip back across the border, out of reach of local U.S. law enforcement agencies. How sad.

It is true that some essentially honest Mexicans seeking work in the U.S., have stolen food and clothing to keep them alive until they reached the work they were seeking. But now thieves are breaking into U.S. homes, stealing electronics and other valuables. Some are armed - in spite of the fact that private ownership of guns is strictly prohibited in Mexico. Many are not Mexican citizens. They come from all over the hemisphere.

Now the porous border has changed. Not only does it impact those farmers and ranchers whose homes are being ransacked, if impacts honest people who cross the border for honest purposes. A Mexican who works or attends a university in the U.S. can obtain legal status to cross the border. For them, going to work or to school is always a case of sitting in their car for forty minutes waiting for their turn to pass the inspection station. Would you tolerate that kind of delay every morning on your way to work?

And so, thanks to the news media letting the world know about the thin border security, it really is a threat - as the alarmists have been shouting. It is not, however, a problem of terrorists as the news pundits have screamed. It is a problem of petty criminals who have, perhaps, less disincentive for shooting someone than would a home-grown crook.

Now we do need to close the border. And, we need protection from 24-7 news reporting.

Lots of Company!

I claim to be an opinionated old man who rants on about subjects I know little about. I am not alone.

I live in Las Cruces, New Mexico. The name of the city is Spanish, but the translation to English is not precise. There is no problem with "Las", that is the article used to precede nouns of feminine gender, and clearly translates to "the". "Cruces is another matter. It can be the plural of "cruz", which means "Cross", or it can be the plural of "cruce" which means "crossroad". So, Las Cruces, can mean either The Crosses or The Crossroads.

No one knows how the city originally got its name, since it probably came from the Spaniards who traveled north through this area some four hundred years ago.

Geographically, it could have meant crossroads. One can travel east or west, as well as north and south (along the Rio Grande). This is possible because of a break in the mountains to the west, and Baylor Canyon, a pass through the San Andres/Organ mountains to the east.

There is a legend that a group of Spaniard travelers were ambushed and killed by Apaches at this location. The next group that passed through, buried these victims and erected crosses over their graves. This, of course, is the more intriguing story and the one most people believe. Accepting this theory, the city government designed a logo showing three crosses, much like the popular depiction of the crosses of calvary.

Now a group is suing the city, claiming the logo is a Christian symbol.

I am not a Christian, but I could care less about the logo. What bothers me is that many, many Christian citizens are insisting that the crosses represent the ancient graveyards for which the city was named, and are not a Christian symbol.

Well, in the first place, no one really knows why the place was named "Las Cruces". In the second place, if a cross is not a Christian symbol, why would the Spaniards have erected crosses above the graves?

Many people expressing opinions when they have no idea what they are talking about.

I am enjoying the company!

Let's Change FEMA to MAMA!

Today's headline from Florida: Long Lines and Short Tempers.

Floridians are complaining because "The Government" is too slow in providing relief for them.

Floridians are repeatedly told to stockpile enough food and water to last at least 72 hours. They ignore that advice.

Floridians are told to evacuate the area in a hurricane's path. With much bravado they refuse, pointing out that they have survived other hurricanes.

Then, when the accurately forecast hurricane knocks out power and water, they run screaming into the streets for "The Government": to take care of them.

Mama! I have no food, no water, no gasoline.

The Real Protectors Of Freedom

Recently someone wrote a letter to our local newspaper stating that at a recent job fair, the biggest crowd was around the military recruiting desk. The reader was alarmed.

I was delighted.

I was 13 years and 1 month of age on December 7, 1941. In the weeks after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, thousands of young men flocked to recruiting stations to join the military. I ached to join with them.

In 1942, we read of American losses, American deaths, and Japanese conquest of Pacific islands. The news was most disturbing to me. When I returned to school in the fall of 1942, it seemed as if no one knew about the war. The most important event was the pep rally for the Friday night football game.

I endured this atmosphere for some weeks, but soon it overwhelmed my desire to remain in school. During the Christmas break, a man from a nearby dairy farm came to our house and explained that their milk route helper wanted to leave his job to join the military service. He wondered if I would be interested in taking his job. Hours were 5:00 a.m. until about 3:00 or 4:00 p.m., salary was $2.00 per day.

To me it was a way I could help with the war effort. I took the job. During the next year and into 1944 and 1945, I watched as many of my friends celebrated their 18th birthday by joining the military. One friend, Leonard Reeves, joined the Army, finished basic training and was shipped to the Pacific. He was killed in the invasion of Okinawa.

The Japanese surrendered in August of 1945 - I was 16. About the time of my 17th birthday (November) the Army lowered the enlistment age to 17. With my parents permission, I joined the Army.

After I was inducted, and before I hustled off to basic training, I saw my parents one time. My father, an Army veteran from World War One, told me to stand straight, shoulders back and stomach in. "A lot of good men have died wearing that uniform", he said, "you owe it to them to wear it with pride." Boy, did I ever!

Hundreds of thousands of combat veterans were overdue to return home, and someone needed to take over their job. I and a lot of other 17-year-old high school dropouts did just that. I was and still am proud of my small contribution.

Now, when I read about a cowardly roadside bomb killing Americans in Iraq, and I hear about young men and women crowding the military recruiters desk at a job fair, I understand.

And I am so grateful for these young patriots who care more about their country - and our freedom - than their personal safety. (And, once again, I ache to join with them.)

That Radio Nightmare

I was on the air in radio from 1949 until 1974. At the first station where I worked, we had no recording equipment for recording commercials. Tape recorders were not yet available, we could not afford a disk recorder. As a result, all commercials were read "live".

When I was hired by a station in Kansas City, we had a disk recorder that would record onto blank acetate disks. We used it for recording commercials as well as program intros, promotional announcements, etc.

The disk jockey worked with four turntables. At any given moment, one would be playing the current record on the air. The next would have the first commercial disk cued and ready. The third turntable may be loaded with a recorded station break jingle, and the fourth with a second commercial.

When the music record ended and the disk jockey finished his comments, he played the recording of the first commercial. While it was playing, he took the music record off the first turntable, replaced it in the file, and cued whatever recording was to follow the last record already cued. With station break jingles, weather report intros, recorded commercials, contest promotion recordings, etc., a deejay may play five or six recordings between music records. Most commercials were recorded at 33 1/3 RPM, our music was either 33 1/3 or 45 RPM, so it was vital that each turntable be set at the correct speed.

It was a mad rush of loading disks on turntables, removing and filing other disks, and making whatever live comments required - such as the current time and temperature. That was why we were called disk jockeys, we really jockeyed stacks of recordings.

There could be no "dead" air, so to play a disk, we had to load it on a turntable, set the needle in the first groove, switch the turntable to a "Cue Amplifier" and spin the turntable until the first sound was heard. then the disk was stopped, backed up about a quarter turn, and switched back to an on-air position. When the turntable was switched on, the sound would start almost immediately. We had other tricks, such as "slip start" to help prevent dead air.

When we finally got the next music record on the air, we had to check our program log and get everything ready for the next break... plus, write in the program log the time each commercial was aired, etc. It was a job that required absolute concentration, and the worst possible situation was to be caught unprepared. For example, you play a weather jingle recording, then suddenly realize you had forgotten to check for the current temperature.

It has been over 30 years since I retired from radio broadcasting. Yet, every now and then, I dream I am on the air and everything has gone wrong. The next commercial disk I need is out of reach. I am trying to ad lib something on the air so I cannot leave my chair and find the disk.

Or, perhaps I have neglected to keep my program log up to date and cannot remember for sure if I played every commercial that was on the log. I wake up, literally shaking.

For years, I thought I was some sort of nut. Then, recently I was visiting with another retired radio man. I mentioned something about my dreams and he said, "Oh, the radio nightmare", and admitted he had those dreams also.

Caring America

Americans care about their fellow man. Look at the American response to the Indonesian tsunami, the gulf coast hurricanes, the Pakistan earthquake, and any other natural or man-made disaster you can recall.

Americans are compassionate to everyone - everyone, that is, but Mexicans. What is it that drives this never ending animosity. Is it because we once fought Mexico in a war? The Marine Corps still sings about taking a boy's military school in Mexico City, which they call the "Halls of Montezuma". We fought a long, bloody war with Japan, now they are a close ally. We fought a similarly long, bitter war with England, now our very closest friends.

Why do we coddle "Native Americans" endlessly? Because we stole this land from them?

Well, we stole a lot of land from Mexico, too. Land we now call Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Southern California, etc. Why aren't Mexicans, like Indians, credited with being here first?

You may have lived your entire life on the dole - a welfare recipient from birth. You may have contributed nothing to mankind. But if a natural disaster places you in harms way and you refuse to flee to high ground, someone should risk their own life saving you. You are a "victim" and are entitled to continue receiving the handout you have enjoyed all your life.

If you are an unemployed Mexican father surrounded by hungry children in a home built of shipping crates and you slip across the border to spend a day in the hot sun picking chiles for an American farmer, you are not a caring father willing to sacrifice for his family. You are an illegal, a criminal deserving only to be arrested and transported out of the country.

How about the single mother of several children, who gets pregnant again by her live-in boyfriend so she can draw yet one more check from ADC? We reward her with our sympathy as well as our dollars.

But if you are a pregnant Mexican teenager in labor, who enters a U.S. hospital, wanting only for your baby to receive the medical care it could not receive at home, you are not a victim... you, too, are an illegal, a criminal, and deserve only to be sent packing back to Mexico.

I could write on this subject endlessy because fresh examples of America's prejudice against Mexicans appear every day.

But, sadly, I would be drowned out by the constant rantings of the media screaming for an impenetrable wall across our southern border!

The next time you hear some media elite raving about America's generosity and compassion, just add these four little words... "unless you're a Mexican."

Is It Really Harriet Miers?

Okay, I have to have an opinion on this Supreme Court nomination if I claim to be an opionated old man.

People are talking about lack of judicial experience, etc., etc.

What they are really talking about is abortion.

I can't even imagine the mental agony of a woman contemplating having an abortion, so let's take them out of the equation. Of what's left (all of us), it is hard to imagine anyone who really wants to see a woman have an abortion.

Well, perhaps some will justify abortion for some medical reason. Like, is it "good" to force someone into a lifetime likely to be filled with pain and misery?

I think the religious right believes abortion is murder and is never justified. I think the liberal left believes in a woman's right to choose, but never actually visualizes an aborted fetus. And, never mind that the "right to choose" was usually on the table before she was on the bed.

There is a group that worries about non-professional procedures - the coat hanger syndrome. These folks are cut from the same cloth as those who pass out hypodermic needles. They say some folks are going to shoot up anyway, so let's keep them from spreading AIDS.

The religious right wants a supreme court that will overturn Roe v. Wade. They believe that in filling the O'Connor vacancy, President Bush could give them that. But, in nominating Harriet Miers they believe he is missing that opportunity. That is where all the flack is coming from.

The liberals aren't sure of what is going on. They are like a hunter who was prepared for a lion to charge him from the brush, only to see a small kitten emerge. Should he go ahead and shoot? Pick the thing up and pet it?

The Senate Judicial Committee. meanwhile, is just watching from the sidelines, in a bit of shock.

No one really knows what George W. Bush is thinking.

Pay attention to this one. It will all be in the history books some day.

TEXAS!

Texas gets a lot of bad press, none of it deserved. Sure, Texans brag a lot about their state, but they should. Texas is an amazing state.

Driving across Texas - which takes about two days - reveals an amazing variety of scenery. Far west Texas is desert country. Southeast Texas is a whole different world. In between is some of the world's greatest grasslands, and crops of every nature.

Along the Rio Grande, southeast of El Paso, a major crop is pecans... thousands of acres of pecan orchards. Up in the panhandle it is beef country with feed lots that seem too big to be true.

But Texas can hardly be regarded as primarily an agricultural state. It's major urban areas are as metropolitan as any cities in the world, and a good deal more vibrant than most of the world's large cities.

In many areas, around Midland-Odessa and around Houston, to name two, petroleum is big business. They do it all in Texas, from drilling to refining. They live with the smell and pollution 365 days a year so the elites of New England, California and elsewhere can cruise around in their luxury cars and breathe clean air.

Petroleum isn't the only energy source that is big in Texas. In several areas - western Crockett Country, for one - you will see hundreds upon hundreds of wind generators, providing clean, renewal energy.

Texans could build a wall around their state and continue to do very well. I question whether the remainder of the country could long do without Texas!

It is true that Texas was stolen from Mexico, along with what is now a good portion of the southwestern United States. But, what Texans have done with the stolen land is phenomenal.

I am not a Texan. Have never lived in Texas. And when I visit Texas, I am always happy to leave and go back home. But I admit (a bit grudgingly, perhaps) that Texas is truly bigger and better than most bragging Texans claim.

Pussies!

Two news stroies caught my attention today. A story of terrorists planning 19 backpack bombs to be deployed on New York subways.

And a story of 90 senators voting for a John McCain amendment aimed at insuring humane treatment of captured enemy combatants.

Want to know what this old man thinks of those 90 senators?

Read my headline!

How Do You Measure Success?

Years ago a colleague of mine answered that question by saying he looks at a man's children to see if he is successful. You are successful if your kids turn out "right".

I agree - largely because my kids are so terrific! All have a college aducation. All worked and paid their own way through college with no handout from Mom or Dad. The oldest of my brood, my twin girls Debra and Denise, both have degrees in education. Next oldest daughter, April, has a degree in computer science and is an IT engineer for a big company.

Our oldest boy, Lance, has a Master's Degree in Political Science (Government) and a Master's Degree in Education. Our youngest boy, Sam, has a Ph.D. in Mass Communications and Cognitive Science.

How did we make all that happen? I have no idea! We were just lucky, I guess, and I claim no credit for their successes. But.... I do love my kids!

Stupid Or Ulterior Motive?

Most people have noticed and a few have commented on the response to the hurricane warning by the people of Texas as compared to the response by the people of Louisiana.

Our local paper carried an article from AP which included a bunch of charts to show the per centage of each population that was "Black". That really pissed me off. They also offered charts to show per centages of each population below poverty level.

In the first place, please define "Black". Does it mean your ancestors came from Africa? The human race evolved in Africa and spread throughout the world. All our ancestors came from Africa.

I could go on, but the point is that I could not believe AP would be so stupid as to assume that being Black had anything to do with response to a hurricane. Then I began to wonder if they really are stupid... or if they are trying to promote some agenda.

No one may ever know the true answer to the question of why people responded as they did, but since I subscribe to the duck paradigm of scientific investigation, let's see if we can think of something here that waddles, quacks or looks like a duck.

Is it poverty? There are masses of people earning below the poverty level who maintain their self-respect and their faith in the future. Those people will admit to being broke - never to being poor. You did not see them begging for help while refusing to help themselves.

How about welfare? Welfare to give temporary help to someone is an act of compassion. Welfare as a lifestyle destroys a person. They lose their self respect. They lose the ability to solve their own problems. They hate themselves for being dependent. They hate you for giving to them. That perfectly describes some of the evacuees who came out of New Orleans.

So, why would a major news gathering source infer that being "black" is the problem? "Racism" is widely criticized in this country. If you can blame racism, it is a lot easier to cause someone a great deal of political pain.

Why not a chart showing the per cent of each population living the welfare life? Welfare has become a liberal bragging point. You would not dare imply that your basic philosophy could cause suffering and loss of life.

I Have What?

Shingles? What is that?

It started Wednesday morning, working at the computer. My left eyebrow had a tender spot. If I pushed my glasses up until they touched my eyebrow, it hurt.

Then the headache started. I never have headaches, so this is very unusual.

Thursday, the tender spot on my eyebrow extented back across my scalp, left side only. Headache more severe. Friday everything is worse, but I had to go to the dental clinic, so I decided to tough this one out.

Saturday morning, it was tougher than me and I called my doctor. He was not in, but an RN, CNP was in and I saw her. I told her I thought a spider had bitten me on my eyebrow (during my sleep???)

I am sure she knew better, but did not say so. Instead, she arranged for a head scan in the emergency room, which proved normal.

The pain just kept getting worse, so I called the nurse again on Sunday. Again she sent me to the emergency room. The emergency room doctor, a kindly old country doctor type listened to my concern about a spider bite, then broke the news. Shingles!

He gave me prescriptions for Valtrex and the pain killer percoset and urged me to see an ophthalmologist as soon as possible.

I picked up the prescriptions and went back to my nurse. After admitting that I had flunked in my diagnosis, I was willing to take the advice of any medical professional. She arranged for me to see the eye doctor first thing Monday morning. He gave me a prescription for some eye drops.

Well, it is Sunday again. The medicine, and a lot of rest, has worked, and I am much improved. But I am not cured.

Now I am hearing of other people who have or have had shingles. It is not a joke. Really!