DREAMS

 America has forgotten how to dream. I saw something like that in a quote and it started me thinking. My thoughts: Yes we have. No we have not.

It seems to me that we have forgotten to dream of the things that make our country stronger.

We once dreamed of eliminating poverty. Lyndon Johnson tried. It may have represented a classic example of applying the right solution to the wrong problem. Perhaps the problem wasn’t poor people in poor areas. Perhaps the problem was the exploitation of poor people in almost every segment of our country since 1619.

Ronald Reagan dreamed of accommodating poverty by enabling the rich to become richer and the poor to become ashamed of being poor. More wealth was to trickle downward from the rich to the poor and obviate the need for the ones he pictured as being like his “Welfare Queen.” Wealth, falling from the sky like manna from Heaven would enable those below to free themselves from the quagmire of poverty.

It may have contained a twinge of applying the wrong solution to the right problem. It is a characteristic of the rich that that last thing on earth they want is to share in their hoard.

Our poor still wait like hungry pets for the largesse to fall their way.

Oh, we dream alright. The rich dream of a pure capitalistic society in which they face no regulations or pay any taxes.

The poor dream of not having to make a choice between food or shelter.

Many of the rest of us dream of our state’s college sports team winning a national championship.

EPIPHANY OF THE DAY

 EGOS AND EMPIRES

I helped win World War Two. I can help free the Cubans.

I’ll not be the first American president to lose a war.

I’ll not be brought down by a third-rate burglary.

I can pardon whomever I wish.

I’ll say who uses the tennis courts and when.

Go ahead and sell them the weapons. I can act my way out of anything.

I’ll raise taxes just a bit to straighten out his mess. Who can stop me?

Who will care in the long run? If it feels good, go for it.

I’ll get the man who tried to kill my daddy.

People will love me in a brown suit.

Let them drink bleach.

It’s mine, my precious.

EPIPHANY OF THE DAY

 BELIEFS

America has entered a paradigm that concerns and confuses me. I understand certain aspects of it. The seeds were planted when Ronald Reagan chose to announce his presidential campaign in Philidelphia, Mississippi, the place where three civil rights workers were seized to be executed for promoting voting rights among southern African Americans. This was a "dog-whistle" that, unfortunately, resounded with some normal minds as well as those of bigots.

The seeds germinated through the efforts of Newt Gingrich and others who preached that hatred of political opponents was not only permissible, but a necessity for domination.

The weeds sprouted full grown with the election of a man of color as president of the United States of Americana nourished by 24-hour-a-day fertilization by the Fox organization. Whereas the Germans had real problems to be utilized by the Nazis, false news pundits created false problems in the minds of Americans. It was easier than having to deal with real ones.

So here we are. I understand how many fell into this scheme. I grew up, after all, in the American South. What I don't understand, and what I will carry to the grave with me not fully understood, is the participation of those I thought would never inure such shenanigans.

These are people I once considered friends and fellow believers in the potential for righteousness among Americans. Now I find them posting support of a cult that calls me a sucker and loser for serving my country while calling the January 6 insurrectionists heroes, hostages, and victims. The leader of this cult is one who portrays not one shred of what we call human decency. He seems to strike some emotional chord not explainable by our present moral standards. There must be a source buried deep within our primordial consciousness.

It seems that the answer may reside in our evolutionary disposition for violence in service of our tribe. I shall study this more and return.

Russians

Love Sunday morns. First, I do my one-hour (plus) study of the Sermon on the Mount. Then I watch Noir Alley on TCM. If time permits, I catch the message from Pulaski Heights Methodist Church in Little Rock to make sure that a least one Protestant Church in America still preaches love and peace. I call it my “Grace Sandwich,” i.e. grace followed by darkness followed by grace. It’s a spicy-smooth delicacy that makes me think.

The films on NA were made in the 1940s and 50s. Invariably, the discussion gets around to the blacklisting of actors, writers, producers, and directors, particularly those carried out by the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), what, until recently, I regarded as the most evil group ever to achieve power in Washington. They were, of course spurred on by Senator Joe McCarthy (R-Wisconsin) and his chief vermin Roy Cohn, whom, until recently, I regarded as the two most evil men ever to gain power in Washington.  I don’t think it is documented how many lives these folks ruined. It was in the hundreds, I think, maybe more.

For what sin did they ruin innocent lives? It was for the sin of exploring Communism, an act legal at the time of commission and shared by many affected, and influenced, by the bitter poverty and despair in America during the Great Depression. Of course, at the time of the witch hunts, flirting with Communism meant communication with Russia. One minor dalliance could destroy you, your family, your associates, and your career.

One contact with Russia, the most casual incident of intercourse, and your life would drain away like the muddy remnants of a spring rain flowing to the sea.

Sometimes, while I’m listening to how some successful American saw her or his life ruined by simply having some turncoat colleague like Ronald Reagan accuse them of sympathizing with the Russians, I think of my life.

See, the same America that produced HUAC, McCarthy, Cohn, and Reagan, once ordered me to a war zone to spend a year of my life in harm’s way.

Why?

Let’s see, oh yes. It was to wage war against a country that had never done America a smidgen of harm, but which had to be destroyed because they were aligned with and armed by, … by … are you ready?

Yep, our old arch-enemy, Russia, that demon of demons. Over 50,000 of my comrades died trying to teach those Communist bastards in Moscow a lesson.

I made it home reviled, hated, and rebuked because we didn’t seem to punish the Russian proxy-nation enough. I withstood the experience, but I never was quite the same person who left for the war. I don’t think any of my surviving brothers and sisters were. Those who dodged the honor were the lucky ones, I suppose.

So you, dear reader, may understand that I can’t explain why the only love expressed by our current president is for the former communists in Russia. Maybe it’s because they never damaged him.

Well, at least we’re not trying to ruin people’s lives today because they don’t love Russians enough, the way we ruined them back in the day for not hating Russians enough.

Uh.

Wait.

Let me get back to you on that one.

The most dangerous law

When teaching Intro to Public Administration, or training municipal officials, I always stress that one of the greatest threats to the enlightened administration of government is “The Law of Unintended Consequences.” While resting for a few minutes recently, I flicked the TV remote and it hit the Ken Burns/ Lynn Novick documentary “The Vietnam War.”

It hit me then. I understood why I think the law I mentioned, as nebulous as it is, is so important.

What better example of history veering off the intended path can we imagine? It may not be the greatest example in our history. Intelligent and intuitive people, including Lyndon Johnson, foresaw that our military involvement in Indochina was a rocky path to follow. Politics demanded otherwise. Our involvement would defeat Communism once and for all. America would be the hero of the world. Any resisting politician was a traitor like Harry Truman, who had lost China. (Yes, losing a nation with 541 million people was quite a trick).

We struck out joyously.

What followed was failure, global humiliation, a deeply divided country, millions killed or wounded, a national cynicism, antipathy toward veterans, and more than 58,000 of their names carved into a black-granite mourning wall in Washington D.C.

I could fill pages with examples of how “The Law” has defeated good intentions. In our state, HUD decided, one year, to reward cities that would pass a stringent fair housing ordinance. What could be more proper or fitting? African Americans would benefit from inspired insight. Let us press forward. It was a another brick of good intentions paving the road to Hell.

Problem was, cities with large minority populations would not even discuss passing something as politically explosive as a fair housing ordinance with teeth. Yes, it was political cowardice, racially tinged, and untoward. Many political decisions are, unfortunately.

Cities with no minorities said, “Why the hell not? It won’t bother us.”

What happened? As we might guess, HUD money intended to help the poor, heavily represented by minorities, one year went to “Sundown Cities.”

Now we have a political independent who chooses to run for President of the United States, not as an independent, but by attaching himself to one of the two national parties. It’s his second try. His first, and indications are he was helped by a foreign enemy, resulted in the exact opposite of what his followers sought, which was a more equitable government, voter fairness, a leveling of income disparities, and love and health care for all.

Abroad, there was a Southeast Asian country once that was being overrun by a reptile species labeled in taxological terms as Ophiophagus Hannah known as the “King Cobra.” According to the late Edward C. Morgan, PhD, it is one of the most dangerous snakes in the world. While not the most poisonous, it is smart and mean, the only poisonous snake that will stalk and attack people just for the pure hell of it.

The government decided to address the problem by offering a bounty, let’s say $50.00, for each dead snake delivered.

Fine. Seemed like a good idea. It was, until the supply ran low. Then inspired villagers began breeding the things. Poor planning and inadequate enclosures produced runaways. The country ended up with more King Cobras than ever by the time officials ended the program.

Politics evades the thinking ability of zealous cult members. Ronald Reagan once said, for example, that “Facts are stupid things.” It was a slogan that apparently stuck with, and formed a chief weapon of his party, one that has stuck with his followers to this date.   

Sadly, he had intended the famous quote by John Adams, “Facts are stubborn things.”

Let us hope that President Adams, not President Reagan was right.

Morning Thoughts: April 2, 2018

Over my career as a planning consultant, I’ve worked for many a mayor. I’ve found them to be a honest, hard-working, and dedicated group. Of course, the nice thing about being a consultant is that it doesn’t allow one to judge one’s clients. I may have a slight bias, although I do have a good vantage point.

That said, I’ve seen all kinds, genders, races, backgrounds. A very few traits, predominately back in the day, I could attribute to prejudice of one sort of another. Meantime, I’ve never known one to steal, ignore the law, or collude with foreign enemies. Most do use the political prerogative of prevarication, but almost always to further the common good, scarcely ever for fun, entertainment, or retribution.

A few of them moved to other offices. Several became state reps or senators. One made a try at governor once, but failed. One became a U.S Representative. I think there may be more, and some from other states, but I can’t recall. Lyndon Johnson had been a teacher, an occupation as honorable as that of mayor.

Overall, cities are well run, usually more so than (this is my humble opinion and please feel free to harbor your own) state or federal governments. Of course, (my opinion again) there’s not a city I can think of that isn’t being operated better than our present federal government.

That brings me to this morning’s point, which is: maybe it is time for a mayor to be president. Goodness knows, we’ve tried everything from engineers to vice-presidents to movie-actors to trust-fund babies to professional wrestling promoters. A mayor couldn’t do worse, and, if past performance is any indicator of future probability, could do much, much better.

Attorneys have dominated the ranks of president and have generally served us well. Given the current bias against the educated, though, there are many who don't want to to see another president trained in law, and familiar with the United States Constitution. Betsy DeVoss probably doesn't even want to see a college graduate again as president.

But trend is not destiny.

Back to mayors, though. They understand balanced budgets. They understand diversity in population. They understand public finance. And half of them understand the need to keep a careful eye on the males of the species. That half would also understand that government can never provide the military-industrial complex all the taxpayer money that it wants. Women are much better than men at saying “no.”

To follow the idea further, I even have someone in mind. In the interest of non-partisanship, I can’t name names, but this one is a Southerner who understands a bit about hurricanes and a lot about a city enjoying itself when it isn't being ravaged by a hurricane.

This one denies even thinking about running for president, a fact that historically means one thing:

He’ll run if he thinks he has a chance. Yes, it's a male. Female politicians at the national level still tend to make too many heads explode. He has the current disadvantage of being thoughtful, educated, erudite, intelligent, and an attorney. But we had such a president just one back. There may be hope for us again.

We’ll know he’s serious the day Fox “news” starts producing lies and slanders against him.

I even think that the lack
of hair would lessen the
ridicule from other countries.

Morning Thoughts: February 18, 2018

President’s Day. Lots of things on which to dwell. I’ve been around since FDR but only aware since Truman. Even as a child, I wondered why some people hated him so.

For example, there was the time our family attended a rodeo in my hometown. Remember those “fill-in” jokes where the clown and the announcer bounce lines back and forth? Try this one:

Mary had a little lamb.

Its face was almost human.

And every time she raised his tail,

She’d look at Harry Truman.

I can’t remember what I had for breakfast yesterday, but I remember that joke. There were others, like the postcard that pictured a man just knocked to the floor by a cowboy, the man saying “I said Truman was raising taxes. I didn’t say Truman was raised in Texas.”

Years later, I learned the source of much, if not most, of the hatred: fair housing and the integration of the military.

I don’t remember much about Eisenhower. He didn’t get to be a good president until sometime in the 1980s.

We viewed John Kennedy as a great president from the day he was elected. His star has dimmed a bit over the years but, hell, he just looked like a president.

It was easy for me to hate Lyndon Johnson. I blamed him for my having been sent to Vietnam. With more reading, (I’ve read all of Caro’s work so far, along with Dalleck, Doris Kearns Goodman, Arkansas’s own Richard Wood, plus others). I probably know more about him that I do any other president. He gets more complicated with each paragraph. He’s what I call an “Ansel Adams” figure. Like Adams’ photographs, Johnson’s image in history goes from pure white to pure black, with all tones in between. The result is a masterpiece of contrasting elements.

Richard Nixon would have been a good man had he not been such a despicable person. He left many legacies for us to untangle. We’ve accepted the bad ones and we are now dismantling the good ones.

Poor Gerald Ford got the “double-whammy” of history. The first was being typecast as dense and clumsy by Saturday Night Live, and the second was for pardoning “Tricky Dick.” I, for one, thought then, and still do, that he did the right thing. We had, as a nation, been through enough.

Jimmy Carter was, without a doubt, among the best human beings we’ve had in the White House. He walked into a partisan ambush, the first of many to come and he was an unlucky president, in my opinion. He didn’t handle it all well, particularly when his upcoming opponent seems to have been working behind the scenes to bring him down. I suspect JC, like U.S. Grant, had a hard time believing in the baseness of some people.

His opponent, Ronald Reagan was … what can you say? He may have been not only what the country wanted, but what it needed at the time. He was the crazy old uncle that tells funny stories at family reunions and then goes behind the barn and teaches the kids bawdy sea songs. Of all the conspiracies this country is supposed to have endured, his administration actually had one, called “Iran-Contra.” It unfolded in short order, and still stains our national conscious. He further proved, to our current dismay, that Americans don’t mind deficits and a huge national debt as long as they get what they want. He left his next-in-line an economy in tatters.

Thus, the Elder George Bush had to raise taxes to clean up the mess. America has never forgiven him.

Then there was Bill Clinton, the man from Arkansas. If he had only “kept it in his pants,” they might be carving his image on Mount Rushmore by now. He had the opposition party warning us of a coming economic catastrophe if the deficit and debt got too low. This I remember: if you couldn’t make money during the Clinton Administration, you’ll never make money. I’m financially comfortable today because of the peace and prosperity of those years.

What next? When the Supreme Court of the United States elects your president, you have to take what you get. I still imagine that a look of complete surprise comes across his face when the Junior George Bush learns that he was President of the United States for eight years. He was the first to establish what I call a “Salvation Date.” That’s when you have had a checkered past, but find the date of your last arrest and claim to have found salvation next day. Then the press can’t ask any questions about your life before that date. Its value in politics is that it allows religious fundamentalists to vote for scoundrels and say their god told them to.

Then America elected a man referred to around here as “our n****r president.” Among other things, he inherited a “credit card” balance that had paid for the cost of two wars off-budget. For eight years, members of his opposition party used political ads showing a photo of their opponent on one side and a photoshopped-darkened photo of Barrack Obama on the other with a few code words translating as “they are coming for your daughters.” His election shook the foundations of our country with such fury that entrapped racial rage spewed to the surface like a volcanic gas, soiling and staining the very heavens. Its noxious fumes are still settling upon us.

Those fumes helped get us where we are today.

Just my take on things. Ignore it if you don’t agree.

From this to "I'm the
Greatest" in one lifetime.
Remarkable.

Thoughts on a career: January 4, 2018

With my youthful demeanor and immature behavior, you’ll find this hard to believe, but on this day 46 years ago, I entered my profession. I had, somehow, landed a job with an urban planning consulting firm straight out of the military. Geez, I had hit the big time. Or so I thought.

The first planning commission I ever attended was in Hope, Arkansas, a fine community in Southwest Arkansas, the birthplace of President Bill Clinton. Last year, I attended a city board meeting in that very room. The furniture was arranged differently, but it was pretty much the same place. Tempus fugit and all that

Back in the day, planning commissioners all looked like me. That is to say they were all old fat white men. Lots of changes have occurred since that meeting in Hope. Along the line, African-American men and white women appeared on planning commissions, not in proportion to the local population, however. These days, African-American women and persons of Hispanic heritage are finding a place.

In one of those mental files I maintain under “interesting but I don’t know why,” I filed the fact that one saw African-American men appear first.

Those were interesting time. It was marking the end of the so-called “Great Society” era. That experience never achieved its lofty goals, to a large degree because too many important individuals and entities found that making war was either more profitable or more politically useful. I keep my thoughts about this in a file called “Tragedies.”

What the Great Society efforts did, in my observation, was to excite, like some charge applied to dormant electrons, a sense of social justice within a significant segment of the population. Leaders who staunchly declared there were no qualified minorities or women to fill upper-level jobs suddenly found some when they learned that the grant they sought required positive affirmative action.

Coupled with the monumentally heroic actions of people like Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, Jr., and John Lewis, the governmental emphasis on elevating those who were poor in spirit and who mourned, began, albeit slowly—and against much resistance—to loosen the stranglehold of the Jim Crow era.

Looking at urban plans from that era, one is struck by a sense of optimism, naïve perhaps, that we could wage a war-like crusade against bitter poverty and despair. Moreover, some whose grandparents had been counted as three-fifths human were themselves in positions to achieve, perhaps in their lifetimes, full citizenship.

What we didn’t know was that any action can have an opposite reaction. This emphasis on redressing past inequalities raised the hopes of some and soothed the consciences of others. For some, however, such progress only pushed racial hatred belowground. Like a monster from a 1950s sci-fi movie, it rested in dark, subterranean caverns, waiting for a catalyst, perhaps of nuclear strength, to open a path to the surface.

There was no nuclear-like source, just upheavals, one on top on one another. On April 20, 1971, the United States Supreme Court upheld the use of busing to achieve racial desegregation in schools.

All hell broke loose, accompanied by a great “whooshing” sound as white parents fled cities whose school districts contained a significant black population. Racal composition became a significant element, in some cases the most significant element, in an area’s population growth.

Then a politician coined the term “silent majority,” as a code name for many who would see America return to the 1940s and 1950s, when African-American veterans, many who had been wounded in the service of their country, were denied equal access to the GI Bill. The term resonated with many who had become successful because they did receive full citizenship, but only credited their own hard work.

Next, a presidential hopeful chose to announce his candidacy in the Mississippi City in which three civil rights workers had been murdered for trying to register black voters. Seeing this as a message, the monsters began to slither upward. Recently, the Current Occupant declined to denounce the monsters' worst foot-soldiers, loosening them upon us with increased fury and confidence.

I don’t have to recount what else happened. But I’ve seen it all. My vantage point is from the courthouse square, an area often marked by vacant buildings and concrete slabs where buildings once stood. Retail business owners can’t afford political influence such as the coal industry can exert. I fear that they will disappear, in small-town America, in my lifetime.

And urban plans? They aren’t designed these days, in many cases, for optimism but for something called “branding,” whatever the hell that means. Many are simply drawings of how neighborhoods should look, a result that tells us much more about the personal tastes of the “planners,” than it does about the needs of the people who live within the city, either by choice or the restrictions placed upon them by a present emphasis on greed and selfishness.

Oh, and Hope, Arkansas? It’s managed today by a woman largely considered be one of the best city managers our state has ever produced.

I file that under “well, I’ll swan.”

Needing our love

Morning Thoughts: November 7, 2017

Planned to sit and relax for a while last evening, but nooo. A mysterious force turned the TV to a horror show. It was Hollywood on Trial. This was the 1976 documentary covering the 10-year reign of terror conducted by the House Un-American Activities Committee against American citizens.

The committee ostensibly originated in 1938 to investigate alleged disloyalty and subversive activities on the part of private citizens, public employees, and those organizations suspected of having communist ties. In the 1950s, it took out after Hollywood. In addition to ferreting out dangerous communist terrorists such as Zero Mostel, Will Geer, and Ring Lardner Jr., it seemed to possess fervent hatred of Hollywood labor unions.

During the 1950s, HUAC as it was called, destroyed the careers of some 200 workers in movies: actors, screenwriters, directors, producers, and skilled workers, all suspected of having ties to Communism and, one supposes, Russia. Its most infamous tirade was against the so-called Hollywood Ten, a brave group of citizens who were jailed for for standing up to the inquisitors.

In the process it turned friend against friend by forcing, cajoling, or simply allowing (Ronald Reagan for example) fellow actors and others to name and testify against their own fellow workers.

The Role of Shame is long. It includes, in addition to Reagan, such luminaries as Robert Taylor, Adolphe Menjou, Robert Montgomery, Walt Disney and the heads of the other major studios. In my view, the worst depicted was Gary Cooper. His smirking testimony against his friends was made the worse by a most cavalier attitude. I’m finished with him.

It was a sad time, certainly not one of America’s “great” moments. Further, it opened the door to the horrors of Joseph McCarthy, an even worse moment in time.

Oh, but all is well now. Russia is our friend, protector, and benefactor. How times to change.

Or do they?

Some things never change.

Sailing to Oblivium: September 11, 2017

Sad, but it takes a disaster, maybe even two or three, to make people proud of the people I’ve worked with for over 45 years. I’m talking about the people who work for the local, state, and federal governments. I don’t know if you have noticed, but they’ve been in the news lately. Oh, and they were in the news 16 years ago today when our most memorable national tragedy occurred. You may not have recognized them then, behind the dust and soot, but they were there.

These are the people who brave, daily, the antipathy of many Americans and talk-show hosts. They withstand the jokes, jibes, and slander hurled at them like bitter breaths of wind. These are the people about whom Ronald Reagan was talking when he said, “The nine most terrifying words in the English language are: I'm from the government and I'm here to help.”

Oh yes, these are the folks who stormed into the burning Twin Towers to rescue people. They were there to help, and it was terrifying.

They are the ones who, along with brave civilians, rescued victims of Hurricane Harvey from swirling floodwaters. They were there to help, and it was terrifying.

They are the ones who, albeit with more time to prepare, performed a marvelous job of forecasting, planning, and oversight in dealing with Hurricane Irma. They were there to help, and it was terrifying.

And on any given day, they perform less publicized heroics, from teaching our children, to making our neighborhoods and country safe. They don't live in gold-plated penthouses. They just keep those places safe before going home to mortgaged homes in modest neighborhoods.

It saddens me when I must endure the denigration of public servants by folks who scarcely go an hour without benefiting from their service. It’s terrible to say, but the only respite from the insults comes during, and for a short time after, a disaster. The so-called libertarians grow silent, conservatives admit how lucky we were that the forecasters and rescuers were there, and even Hate Radio takes a break … sometimes. Then they’re all at it again.

Rudyard Kipling noticed it in 1890 in the attitude the British had toward their soldiers, when he wrote, in his immortal poem Tommy: “For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute! But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;”

Since I work, and have worked, with these folks, I appreciate them every day and feel proud when I call them friends and colleagues. I don’t wait until the buildings are on fire, the waters are rising, or the winds are toppling buildings, to appreciate them.

The work they do is not the problem. The work they do is the solution. There should be a national day of appreciation for our public servants. Don’t count on it, though. The winds are already subsiding. Calm will come, and once again we’ll hear, “Chuck them out, the brutes.”

Lest we forget

Survivors

Early morning thoughts while listening to the Brahms Violin Concerto in D Major.

I know it gets old to hear people drone on about the New Year and all, but it does make one think. I always remember going to the movies this time of year as a child and seeing the cartoon where the Baby New Year chased out the Old Man Past Year. I always felt sorry for the old man. On the other hand, I’ve probably stayed up, by choice, until midnight on New Year’s Eve maybe a dozen times in my life. Never saw much sense in it.

Sunday will mark the 44^th year since I reported to work (the day was a Monday in 1971) on my first real job after military service. It was with a planning firm and, since they didn’t really have an opening but took a chance on me, I took a chance on them—a job paying $400 per month, not really much even back then.

A year and a half later, when I met and married Brenda, I was making $900 per month, the equivalent of maybe $60,000 per year in today’s dollars. A few years later, I was a partner in the firm, not a major partner, but a partner nonetheless and my annual salary was the equivalent of close to $100,000 by today’s standards. I think it was a chance that paid off well.

It’s been an enlightening experience. I often think of the first secretary the firm hired after I arrived. The mother of a small child, she was kicked out on the street by her husband and “Bambi” at nine o’clock one night, child in hand. During the divorce proceedings, the (male) judge awarded her a child-support payment that was $12.00 per month less than her child-care cost. For that she tended, doctored, fed, and nurtured the child except for an occasional weekend when the “dad” would take him to ride horses at the farm of Bambi’s parents. That mother, our secretary, through no fault of her own, needed the help of her community and government. It never came, and this new batch of legislators seems hell-bent on making sure it never comes for her modern counterpoints. She, nevertheless, survived as did hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, like her. There should be a monument erected someday.

I owe the fact that we are financially independent to two presidents, I suppose—Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton. Reagan fouled the economy up for local governments almost beyond redemption, and, just as I started my own consulting firm, Clinton came into office. The subsequent financial boom was exacerbated for me because most cities were in such a state of disrepair that they were quite willing to use their new financial stability to pay someone to help update their planning system. It was a glorious eight years and coincided with my peak earning period. One can’t ask for much better than that.

I suppose we should also thank the current president Barack Obama. Although I now only work sporadically when I want to, our net worth has nearly doubled while he nurtured the economy from its almost total collapse. Life is good for us. I wish it could be for everyone.

We are lucky though, for we both have enjoyed good health. I’ve been sick enough to miss work only once since 1971. We’ve never faced the ordeal of some of our brothers and sisters who had to deal with an obscene, until now, system of providing health care. Blessed, we’ve been so blessed.

I will die happy if I am wrong, but I fear now that our country has begun its long slide into historical obscurity. If so, I’ll probably be able to watch it from the sidelines as they must deal with the minorities, the poor, women, and the immigrants before they come for the white, male, college graduates.

After all this time, I plan to pass on still harboring the belief that government be a force for good if used wisely, that religious institutions can be a force for evil if used poorly, and that the salvation of America may rest on the strength of our women.

 

Only a mother could teach a child goodness
from a heart that knows only misery.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

See also www.travelswithanalien.blogspot.com