Author: srj641

Pilots learn early in their training to rely on a checklist to safely fly an aircraft of any shape and size. Interestingly, experience has little to do with the requirement to rely on a carefully prepared checklist to make sure that you fly safely and competently. One of my flying mentors, an airline super pilot with over 30,000 hours, still relies on a methodical checklist review before calling for clearance to fly. He flew 777’s all over the world and now flies General Aviation airplanes with the same degree of diligence. Police officers, when they hit the streets, do not have a checklist. Human nature does not lend itself to uniformity, and one approach does not serve every need. Let’s talk about it a bit.

The current lack of support for the policing profession is rooted in the unfortunate death of folks in police confrontations. It is popular to demand that police officers be retrained with an emphasis on peaceful resolution of confrontation as if a degree in psychology is going to be helpful in handling an intoxicated individual who is hell bent on fighting. Rather than advantaged, the psychologist is going to be woefully under equipped to handle a sociopath who is brandishing a deadly weapon and advancing menacingly. There is no time to apply a textbook, clinical technique to the management of this confrontation. Someone is going to get hurt. I can guarantee that political figures who want policing defunded would rather have an armed, street wise officer between them and a homicidal sociopath than a school trained conversationalist. When this encounter develops, there is no time for a checklist. Again, someone is likely going to get hurt.

I am writing today, because reasonable people are being led by folks who are anything but reasonable. Oregon has just legalized heroin and crystal meth for recreational use, thus turning another group of potentially dangerous folks out to be regulated by the police. We are on the verge of completely legalizing marijuana with no empirical system in place to determine the degree of impairment while driving or interacting in public. The police will handle the problems without the aid of a checklist. These political figures are bending to the will of a presumably small element of our society and handing off their regulation to the police. There is no checklist for handling a meth addled person who has become violent. In these confrontations there is, again, a very real possibility that someone is going to get hurt. The officer’s role is to determine exactly who that someone is. I am guessing that political figures that scream for the abolishing of the police have little respect for authority in the first place. Reason is nowhere to be seen in their lame justifications.

It is believed that medical error accounts for over 250,000 deaths in America each year, the third leading cause of death. We still stand behind our medical professionals and recognize the practice of medicine is an inexact science that involves judgement. Is it too much to ask that we accord police professionals more respect than suggesting this profession that delivers thousands upon thousands of peaceful resolutions each year be tossed? I think not.

We begin the year with “0” on the score card for police deaths. This score will begin to climb in short order and we need to recognize the role the police play in instilling order in what would otherwise be a chaotic and self destructing free society. We work without a checklist……..because a checklist won’t work. Just as there is no uniformity in people, there is no uniformity in approaches to them……….

Have a great weekend, and super New Year!

SR

The title of today’s blog seems apt given this year that has managed to run over most of us in more ways than one. The good news is that if you are reading this blog, you are still standing and will forever benefit from this tough year. My old Zone Sergeant often reminded us after an event we might have handled differently that “bought’n learning is the best learning”. The Master has given us a cross to carry this past year, and those of us still standing are ready for the next challenge, stronger and wiser. As is the course of nature, each year sees fewer and fewer of us available to accept the challenge of the New Year. Soon enough, we all will be remembered as opposed to remembering. God bless the folks in the first category.

Each and every soul on earth that still is capable of conscious thought and has a working memory, will allocate space in our minds for the word “Covid”. It has painted a year of our lives in some awful color not on the color spectrum. It is not finished with us yet, but we appear to be on the verge of relegating it to the same corner of hell where polio and other horrid maladies reside. We owe a tremendous debt to the fine minds that have not only found a way to prevent this demonic malady, but devised the logistical chain to distribute the medicine on a massive scale. How is this bought’n learning? We know that anything can become a political issue that is capable of swinging the very ideology of a country in a new direction, even a lousy little virus. It likely will not be in our lifetime, but God willing, we will utter the word “Covid” with the same frequency we utter “polio” or “cholera”……….

The license number of what hit us is more than covid. The number also has things like politics, hatred, division and a new wave of destruction and inability to cope with things that don’t suit us on it. This has been the year of transformation from peaceful resolution to violent confrontation. We have been divided and joined together at the same time. We are divided politically, but each side of the political spectrum has become more unified than ever. This split political personality has allowed hatred to grow unabated. We are wiser in that we recognize this concern, but still we are hell bent on no concession. Our political leadership has no concept of meeting in the middle and I don’t see much progress in the tea leaves of 2021. The Hatfields and McCoys are alive and well.

Finally, in this year that we should forget but never will, the economy takes a front row seat. Few can argue we began the year with a booming economy that has been torched by the afore mentioned issues. The same sage old Sergeant that I referred to was also fond of saying that “all things are possible with enough time and money”. It is a wonderful time to be retired in that a fixed income is indeed an income and those who were toiling for every dollar to keep their lifestyle right side up are now scrambling to meet the basic necessities. Our success is built on a simple concept, you work, you earn and you live. Hopefully in 2021, the opportunity to work will again be abundant, businesses will begin to thrive and rebuild and our neighbors will smile rather than cry. It has been a tough year, and America has been dealt a tough hand to play, but play it we will and ask for a new deal as soon as the cards are down.

I appreciate all of my friends, neighbors and family. I thrive on communication and without you it wouldn’t exist. Have a wonderful New Year and hit the ground running. There is no quit in us……..and that, folks, is formidable!

SR

Unless you live under a large, flat rock on the banks of a muddy creek, you have read about and discussed the reasons for the madness we are seeing in this country at present. This is not intended as a political musing, rather the reveal of the real reason why folks are raising hell on a our streets and bent on the destruction of reminders of our colorful history. However, in the end, politicians are the wind beneath the sails of people who are concerned with their relevancy. Give me a few minutes of your time, and I suspect you will have a little better understanding as to why we are changing the names of sports teams and renaming a school currently named after President Lincoln. The reason, my friends, is the desire to become or remain relevant.

America is populated with a large number of folks who are not satisfied with their impact on our culture and society. They hunger for relevancy in any form. If your contribution to personal infamy is limited to a 8 to 5 job, or no job at all, and you still feel as if you are not contributing, what better way to cement your legacy than tearing up something for the sake of relevance. When you can say you have attended a violent protest, and hit an officer in the head, you are suddenly relevant. When you burn a building down, or destroy a monument that means nothing to you beyond the convenient and lame reason that you are “offended” you become relevant. If you are one of the vast number of civic officials that condone these actions, you are relevant. If you are a loud mouth politician that is screaming to defund the police, in any form, you are seeking relevance in an arena where you had little relevance before this opportunity seized your weak mind. It is a huge mistake to buy into the reasoning that is very much a part of the justification for this irrational behavior, “that a statue, or Native American name, or President Lincoln was a racist, etc.”, is because you are offended. Offense is a convenient lie to justify the desire to be relevant. How does this get us to where we are today?

There are two basic avenues for relevancy. The first is a productive life as a responsible, gainfully employed individual who contributes positively to the success of the Republic. Thank you for this contribution. The other way is to negatively impact this Republic for the feeling of relevancy when you assault an officer, tear down a concrete monument or set a town on fire. If the political leadership would concentrate on rewarding group one and stopping group two in their tracks, we would be able to curb this unchecked desire to become relevant through destruction and abhorrent behavior. The totally ignorant wave of support to unfund the police is an example of civic leadership that wants to be relevant. See the point?

I am not advocating becoming Lemmings to the sea. There needs to be reasonable dissension and the consideration of divergent viewpoints. That being said, what a sad state of affairs when you sit down with your grand-kids and tell them you smacked a police officer or tore down a statue because you were suddenly offended. What a supreme disservice to that child. If we continue to reward the folks who are seeking relevancy in destructive venues, we are going to soon hand the country to them, and that is a monumental tragedy,

Have a great weekend!

SR

Over the past several years, we have made a concerted effort to buy products that are either US made or made in a country that is a friend of the USA. This endeavor is challenging and fun as well as rewarding in terms of quality and utility. Particularly challenging is the acquisition of things that you plug in or put batteries in. A look around your home will confirm the mastery of the Chinese in this arena. This is not a Chinese hit piece, rather a quest for excellence.

I have written about coffee in the past. I didn’t drink the stuff in the years leading up to and through my Army days. I had not “acquired” a taste for it. I suppose that a hard snow, bitter cold and the company of a fellow officer while we waited for the next weather related event on our highways presented the perfect opportunity to swill a cup of Joe as you waited for your trousers from the knee down to dry out and the feeling to return to your feet from your last jaunt down an embankment to check on a driver not up to the task of winter driving. I learned to drink coffee with the big boys back in those days. The quality of the coffee in a truck stop or country cafe hinged on the cleanliness of the pot or big, commercial coffee maker. The tars and black stuff burned into the bottom of a carafe could be a real eye opener. Folks know exactly what I am talking about. Our search for the perfect cup of brew has taken another remarkable turn for the better with the acquisition of our latest coffee maker, a Technivorm Mocha Master. Let’s have a look.

Technivorm is a Dutch manufacturer of coffee makers. They build a brewer for every conceivable need from a little one cup pour over delight, to bigger machines that can service the whole crew on Thanksgiving when coffee is necessary to keep the peace in a family that does not share the same political philosophy. Their coffee makers are aptly named Mocha Master, advertised as the world’s number one rated coffee maker. We have about a week’s experience with a smaller, one cup pour over maker and are quite impressed. My grand-son, a student at Missouri S&T where long hours in books are greatly facilitated with coffee, has become quite the coffee critic. I made him a cup of Keurig stuff and served it next to a cup of pour over from the Mocha Master, in a blind test. He quietly referred to the K-Cup of nectar as awful when compared to the pour over. We agree.

I have written about Starbucks in past musings. It is really awful coffee in the company of clever additives that almost always involve sugar or some other magic potion to change the entire nature of the beverage. The Mocha Master requires 4 minutes to turn out an exact 10.5 oz. cup of the smoothest, most robust coffee that can be had anywhere. Mind you, a quality grind is necessary or nothing is gained, and quality grinds are out there. We grind our own from a select few companies that I have reviewed in the past.

Now for a coffee endorsement. Coffee has been empirically linked to a lower mortality rate. It positively impacts strokes, heart disease, kidney disease and diabetes. It is linked to lower rates of Parkinson’s disease, is shown to keep liver enzymes in check, and strengthens the strands in our DNA. Coffee drinkers have a 26% lower rate of colon cancer and a lower risk of Alzheimer’s disease and dementia. There is an established link between coffee and a lower risk of strokes. All of these benefits are MORE pronounced in the female gender! As a final benefit, I have noticed that a good coffee at first light clears my head and prepares me for a dialogue with Sharon who always rises with a fresh new set of considerations and suggestions for our day ahead. You do not drop your guard around this lady, trust me. Coffee keeps me in the dialogue!

I can whole heartedly recommend the acquisition of a Mocha Master if you really enjoy, make that savor, a cup of coffee first thing in the morning. There is a reason why they are rated at the top of the heap when it comes to the art of coffee brewing on a personal or household level. As we shovel dirt on the disaster known as 2020, let’s give thought to beginning the new year with a cup of God’s own nectar….coffee from a brewer made by people who have been building these things since 1964. You will not be disappointed.

Have a great week!

SR

No, this is not another lay perspective on our dance with the Big C, rather a condensed set of facts gleaned from the John’s Hopkins School of Medicine that may help us understand WHY soap and alcohol are the first line of defense against this scourge. We blindly accept or reject the advice we are given relative to this disease and I think a drill down into why they will help us until the vaccine is distributed.

This virus is not a living organism, it is a protein molecule covered by a protective layer of lipid (fat) which when absorbed by the cells in the eyes, nose or mouth changes their genetic code and converts them into aggressor and multiplier cells. Since it is not a living organism it cannot be killed. It has to decay on it’s own, dependent on the temperature, humidity and type of material where it lays.

The virus is fragile. It is protected by the layer of fat which explains why soap and detergent are effective. They dissolve fat. No fat and the virus breaks down. Hot water also breaks down fat, which is why hot water and soap are so effective at attacking the virus. Alcohol, in concentrations of at least 65% dissolves all fat, and is deadly to the fat covering the virus.

No bactericide or antibiotic will touch the virus because it is not a living thing, and antibiotics can’t kill what is not alive. The virus cannot penetrate healthy skin, leaving the mucosa mentioned above as the portals of entry. Whisky won’t work as it seldom approaches 65% alcohol. The virus can survive on inanimate surfaces, which is why you should wash your hands after handling things, ie; knobs, switches and etc. before touching your mouth, eyes and nose.

Masks protect against the dispersal of the micro sized droplets that are exhaled by people infected with the virus. They also are somewhat effective against your spread of the droplets to folks around you. Crowds are bad, for obvious reasons. It is simply a game, where the stakes are high and the odds multiply against you as you are exposed to more people.There is no demonstrated transmission of the virus by food. It requires direct contact with a person who may be bringing your food to the table…back to hand washing and alcohol. It should be apparent by now that distancing is also effective.

Okay, enough. This is why hand washing with soap and the use of plain old alcohol in concentrations above 65% work. I am not a doctor or virologist but I can read. Now we know why the real experts tout soap and alcohol as the first line of defense until we are inoculated.

Have a great week and toss the paranoia. We’ll get through this pretty quickly and can, sometime next year, return to living like American’s like to live. To quote an old political hack from my past…….

You can bet on it!

This week, I finally located a particular .22 caliber rim fire rifle that has been in demand since it’s recent introduction. It is not a weapon of war, rather a precision, bolt action rifle capable of tremendous accuracy. I bought it to target shoot and dispatch an occasional crockpot full of squirrels, soon to be combined with rice and mushrooms in a favorite recipe on a cold winter day. That being said, it is still a firearm thus a target for those who think guns are inherently bad. They are not, some people are however, and a gun in a bad person’s hands is not a good thing.

I was raised in a gun rich environment. Military brats are exposed to the sound of guns from their first day in this world. This, coupled with my enjoyment of hunting and the feel of a firearm where wood ( polymer ) and steel come together in the name of precision and beauty are important to me. I recently reduced my firearms collection down to a more utilitarian group, but still exceed the national average of 5 firearms per gun owner, actually by a significant number. I am not alone. It is estimated that 17 million firearms have been sold this year and that 40% of Americans either own a gun or live with someone who does. While hard to estimate, it is thought that some 390 million guns exist in America. A whopping 67% of folks who bought guns this year say they bought them for personal protection, even though the actual instances of their use in personal protection scenarios is minuscule by comparison. Today’s firearms, like today’s automobiles are not your grandfathers stuff. They are refined and have evolved into devices capable of unbelievable accuracy and efficiency. Many so called “weapons of war”, while looking sinister, are really platforms for all kinds of accessories ranging from night vision optics to powerful telescopic sights with range finding capabilities. Competitive shooting sports run the gamut from a weekend fund raising turkey shoot to elaborate multi-station timed fire courses involving athleticism, gun handling and split second decision making.

There are vast differences in hunters, shooters and those who argue for self protection. Some folks can bridge these differences and can be classified across the entire spectrum. A hunter must have the ability to look a living thing in the eye and deliver a killing shot to the animal or critter. On a visceral level, it is no different than filleting a crappie still flopping on the cutting board. Some people have the constitution to do this, some do not. Shooters are thrilled when their grouping is tight and skill rewarded with a scored performance on whatever targets they are shooting at. Self protection aficionados may or may not know much about their gun of choice but have a sense of urgency brought about by the homicide rates that are climbing in America, and the new administration. There is no argument that guns pose an increased risk. The accessibility to a gun, on short notice, results in a sobering statistic in cases of domestic homicide, suicide and of course, accidental shootings.

Let’s tie this matter up, albeit simplistically. The (purported) incoming administration is not gun friendly, however; they do grasp basic mathematics. There is one hell of a lot of gun owners in America, of which the vast majority are law abiding and pose little risk to society. I find it interesting that we turn the average person into a gun owner with little or no education as to the responsibilities that accompany this privilege. I see pop-up adds for schools and classes that purport to provide training on the nuances of gun ownership both legally and ethically, entirely voluntarily and with no accreditation whatsoever. I watched a diminutive lady buy a big bore pistol this week while I waited for my background check to come back. I asked her if she was an experienced shooter and she told me no, but was going to find someone or someplace to help her learn to shoot this pistol that would intimidate even experienced hand gunners. Some years ago, I was involved in bringing Highway Patrol wives in for basic training with the handguns their husbands carried. They left knowing how to load, unload and handle the firearm they were living with. I don’t think we do that today, but certainly should. The wives were deeply appreciative.

In my view, training and education is a palatable alternative to the cry for confiscation, type casting and outrageous taxing of a right held to be constitutional. Like an automobile, you should be able to demonstrate a level of competency before turning out into the streets with a device that has lethal implications in inexperienced hands. If you are a bad actor, and are caught with a firearm and can not produce a training certificate, you are summonsed and your gun confiscated. Before you discount this approach, think of the alternatives. At some point, gun hating administrations are coming after your privilege to own a firearm through the egregious means I mention above. How do you want it? A stiff tax, confiscation, regulations limiting a magazine to two or three rounds? I suggest that attacking this problem from the people standpoint rather than gun standpoint is a better alternative. Ammunition sales are up 139% since the Biden ticket came into being, and guns are flying off of racks like Halloween candy. You know why. If you have a better strategy, and someone may have, get it on the table. There are too damned many people in power positions who simply do not understand our gun culture….and they will threaten ownership when the opportunity exists. It is time we remove guns from the liberal, political strategy bag of people who do not get it.

Have a great weekend and thanks for reading!

SR

After many years of sitting out deer seasons, I returned to the woods this year with little intention of killing anything. I had ample opportunities at yearlings and does, who were invariably traveling together, carefully picking their way through a poor mast crop on Wilson’s Ridge. Wilson’s Ridge is owned by my sister and brother-in-law and overlooks the Pomme De Terre arm of Truman lake. The deer in these parts are not in a class with the beautiful bucks taken in north Missouri that have been gracing social media this year, as they have no crops to browse and are used to running the razorbacks that comprise this part of the country. So it is that I write about a deer hunt that doesn’t end in a picture of a trophy, rather a picture of barbed wire that has been encapsulated by a tree. There is a story here that is known only to God. I imagine the story goes something like this.

To some minds the picture accompanying this article has some sort of humorous connotation, however; to me it tells a story of hard living on a piece of rocky ground carefully fenced off from a neighbor many years ago. Fences are for livestock and privacy, and one has to work hard to imagine either issue being a concern on this craggy bluff. I thought about the toil involved in making a fence across these hollows and ledges, stringing wire from tree to tree as a fence post is out of the question up here. The two-barbed wire tells me this was a turn of the century fence overlooking what was once the Pomme de Terre river, in a region known for dinosaurs in ancient times. This wire has seen year upon year of blistering heat and frigid snow dulling the points and gradually sapping it’s strength. The tree, mightily offended by the tacking of the wire to its trunk, has encapsulated the wire, growing around it relying on the tree equivalent of scar tissue to make it a part of the tree for the rest of it’s life. I wondered where the fence builder, long since departed, is resting eternally. He was probably of European ancestry, likely Scotch or Irish, once removed from Kentucky, Tennessee or the Carolinas. It is certain that he gave little thought to a man testing this wire well over a hundred years from the day he strung it. There is no water on this ridge, so he undoubtedly drank from the Pomme or contrived some form of cistern on his ground. He was used to back breaking, hard work as he relied upon wood for heat and shelter many years before the advent of the chainsaw. He would have marveled and likely cussed the impoundment of Truman Lake as so many natives in these parts still do. I said a silent prayer for his soul, at rest after his existence in this rugged, beautiful part of the country. His rest is well earned.

I enjoyed this deer hunt immensely. I passed on taking a deer for the sake of killing, which would have been the case, as venison was never a particular favorite table fare for me, having long since being replaced by quail and crappie! I was able to talk strategy with Dennis, revisit history and gaze over Truman Lake, to me a nearly sacred place. I spent an hour being scolded by a young squirrel who did not appreciate my sitting close to his old snag of a den tree. Most importantly, I was able to identify with the old piece of barbed wire, a reminder that all things on earth are time limited. Like the wire, I am still here, brittle and not as sharp as in years past, likely to be offensive to someone who gets too close or takes me for granted. The wire will be here when I am gone and maybe, just maybe, another person will happen by and pay their respect to it’s history.

Have a great week!

SR

Veteran’s Day is upon us. It is time to set aside the degrading political rancor and tension of the day to remember those who have gone all in to preserve the right to raise hell, or not in this great country. I stopped in at our local, quite impressive VA outpatient clinic where a staff member reminded me that folks come home from wars one of two ways; in an aluminum shipping casket, or as permanently transformed who cannot unsee what they have seen or un-live what they have lived through. Thankfully, most of us do just fine, but no one ever let’s it all go.

SSgt. Barry Sadler, a Green Beret crossed trained in several combat specialties wrote a number of ballads about the soldier in Vietnam. Not to show preference here, his songs could have been about any war. My father was a Green Beret who talked little about his experiences. The only advice he gave me along these lines was to avoid war because it changes you in ways that are not good or, if you must go, fight like hell and give it every thing you have. He was a lucky one, and died peacefully in bed, still capable of great violence when provoked.

When you have a moment, Google “I’m A Lucky One” by Sgt. Sadler to hear these lyrics set to music.

“I’m going home, my tour is done… I’m going home, I am a lucky one………but I’ve left friends behind me who won’t come home no more…..yes many friends remain forever on that bloody shore”

Although not every veteran was forced into the nuts and bolts of cannon fire and small arms lethality, all were trained to do so when the winds of fortune changed. Frontline fighters and pilots have been tested, of that you may be sure, a test that exacts a toll. Military service in any form teaches you to obey and function in a team environment. At one point in your life, you were disciplined and prepped for the ultimate experience……fighting, and dying.

Yesterday’s visit at our VA Clinic was a heartwarming experience. Old veterans waiting their turns for the services they provide, talking quietly and exchanging smiles and greetings as only folks do who are members of this fraternity. The VA provides support to me, personally, in the form of hearing aids and a small disability pension for my hearing loss that I have hidden for many years. Artillery pieces don’t really care about your ears and bloody noses. The mission goes on.

There will be much written about the significance of Veteran’s Day in the next few days, as it should be. Virtually every one of us either knows a veteran or is one, and their criticality to the success of America cannot be understated. From the standpoint of the politics of the day, my concern is not with the myriad of problems we face so much as it is with the maintenance of a strong, effective and well led military. To reduce it to simple terms, fire superiority prevents wars and wins those we are forced to fight.

Sgt. Sadler, I join you as a lucky one. I came home, better for the experience and life’s lessons, relatively insulated from the demons who rode home with me. There were more than a few at the clinic who still share seat space with their demons. They came home but left their innocence on the battlefield.

Please shake a Veteran’s hand over the next few days, and when you see him wearing a hat proclaiming his status, ask him about it. He will be honored that you cared! At some point, pray for the souls of every veteran who exists as a name carved in granite. They answered the call……

Have a wonderful week.

SR

It is easy to get caught up in the business of the day, much of which you cannot influence much more than casting your vote and walking on. There has been much written about 2020, the year of the whirlpool, lurking in the form of weather, politics, unrest and Covid. It is easy to get sucked into this whirlpool and lose your bearing. Sharon and I packed a handful of snacks, loaded Tazzy in the car and went on an exploration of beautiful SW Missouri. We stayed on country roads, saw and smelled country road things and recharged our batteries. We were reminded that in this techno age, it is the simple things that really matter.

Somewhere on a numbered county road we drove up on this beautiful pair of sorrel mules that were kind enough to trudge up to the fence and talk with Tazzy. Missouri mules have a place in history and are known for many positive attributes and more than one vexing trait. These two guys, that I immediately named “Ben and Jerry” were buddies and probably didn’t get many visitors who would stop and talk a bit. Tazzy did most of the talking but soon calmed down. To some folks, they were just long eared critters, but to me, they were a reminder of days past. I immediately recalled the hours that I spent staring at the south end of a northbound mule pulling a tobacco drag in South Carolina when I was a sub-teen kid. It was then that I learned that you co-exist with mules not master them.

We drove by a property that was for sale. It was interesting in that it appeared very old and new at the same time. Someone had taken a home built in 1891 and upgraded it with windows, siding and trim in a way that captured two distinct eras. I suppose someone will take a chance on this old place, but to me it was scary. Structural integrity, electrical wiring and old plumbing conjured up memories of a cinder block house in South Carolina, with central oil stove heat and no air conditioning back in my mule skinner days.

We drove through beautiful river bottoms, large walnut groves and a surprising number of row crop operations that I had no idea existed in this part of the country. Every once in awhile, our cultural upbringing was reinforced by a Trump sign, our only connection to politics as we drove with the radio off. For the most part, fences were good, gates closed and tight and yards kept clean and junk free. Many homes were older than we were but the pride in ownership was evident. Old pickup trucks were co-mingled with the latest Detroit offerings and automobiles tended to be US made. Waves from folks working their cattle or ground were common and you just felt good among these folks.

What is the point here? What is going on inside the Washington Beltway is not going to change one damned thing in the real America that we drove through. Ben and Jerry will still saunter up to the fence to make new friends, the beans will be cut and sold and cattle raised. Dinners will be the same delicious fare as in years past, with garden produce and home raised beef on the table. Fences will be repaired and the critters fed and/or milked right on time. Before anything is thrown away an effort will be made to fix it, unlike the fast paced urban existence when hesitancy gets the offending device a trip to the trash can without as much as a cursory attempt to repair it. Firewood will be cut, split and stacked and folks will go to church on Sunday. Instead of listening to the political yammering that is incessant on the radio, these folks will be most interested in the weather, crop and beef market reports. They recognize the things they cannot change and change the things that need changing. God bless them as they can teach the rest of us the value of the simple things in life.

In the country, when folks make a promise…they keep it, without fail, which makes them careful with promises. There aren’t any feed stores or Dollar Generals being burned and looted in this part of our world. The reason why is rooted in a long, proud history of rural America, where change is slow and only if we want it. You cannot burn and pillage your way into changing things out here.

Have a great weekend, turn the radio and television off, saddle up, and take a drive. There is more to America than the crap in Washington. We’ve all done what we can to influence the situation…..now we’re along for the ride.

SR

This writing is not intended as a political informational, rather a look at the America we have become. We are surrounded by a deep, narrow eyed, visceral kind of hatred that moves less disciplined people to react in ways that are patently destructive. As a professional police officer, I have witnessed the damage that hatred can do firsthand, however; never have I seen it sweep so many folks so fast.

America is fed up with the political establishment in Washington. It is what propelled Mr. Trump into office. If Mr. Trump loses this election, it will not be as a result of a deep sense of love and respect for Mr. Biden, it will be because about one half of the nation despises Mr. Trump. This is evident in any serious reflective conversation with an honest liberal who will immediately change the thrust of a conversation about Mr. Biden to a deriding commentary about Mr. Trump. Hatred may decide this election, not policy or accomplishment or Covid…..hatred.

It has become quite fashionable to challenge the so called “white privilege” with destructive activity in our cities. Burning down our cities, destroying historical artifacts, defacing the graves of our military is the result of pent up rage or hatred. You see very few accomplished, successful, employed folks on the front lines of the destructive wave that has us buying guns at an unprecedented level. Somehow, our educational institutions are convincing our kids that socialism is the answer and the redistribution of wealth will guarantee a chicken in every pot. In our society, to date, wealth is accumulated by hard work, discipline and character. Successful middle class America enjoys a life they worked for, it is that simple. When you see hordes of folks, mostly non-achievers, storm into a middle class neighborhood and raise hell, that is hatred of the people who have things the hordes don’t have and think they are “entitled” to.

A very visible faction of our society hates authority. The progress we have made over the past decade or so is down the tube. The media, ginning up hatred for the institution of policing, is on full display. Every time a threatening, likely sociopathic person, brandishing a weapon or resisting the police, is hurt or killed, we cry for justice in the form of castigating the officer(s). Police work involves split second judgements and swift reaction. The mounting toll of officers killed this year points to the necessity of the use of force, sometimes deadly, in this profession. Polls conducted within Missouri in regard to the public perception of my old agency, have consistently shown very high levels of appreciation and acceptance. Hatred has not arrived here, but is knocking on the door. Like cancer, hatred is always on the lookout for a new place to settle in.

When you watch the evening “news” you will note the disturbing trend of children carrying often obscene signs and posters as they join the parents on a crusade for or against some American institution. It is appalling and counter to the decency that we were once known for. This is one way we keep hatred alive. I mentioned “news” in this paragraph. Network media, as an institution, deserves much credit for fanning the flames of dissension. Social media is front and center in this discussion. They have tremendous power over the message and are guilty of buying into the hatred game. The media hates Mr. Trump and have a very high pulpit to preach from. When you take on folks who buy ink by the barrel and paper by the ton, you will have a tough fight on your hands.

I am ending where I began. Tuesday, America will go to the polls. This is not an election where the winner will be decided by their record, rather it will be an election where hate is the central theme. I enjoyed past political seasons, spirited debate, discernible truths and policy differences on display. This has been a hellish season and when the dust settles, we have much to consider going forward. I have watched hatred kill family members, neighbors, businesses and even pets. The only time in my lifetime that I have seen hatred reign supreme is in combat…….where you are trained to hate and kill. Hatred is lurking everywhere in America and we had better understand it’s compelling nature. It is far more dangerous than Covid…of this you may be assured!

Have a great weekend and be safe with the kiddos as they do the Halloween thing!

SR