Author: srj641

This week started out pretty normal for a couple of aging middle Americans enjoying good health and many of the advantages that living in a conservative state offer. There is no evidence of defunding our police and we are free to own whatever appliances and cars we want to, within reason of course. We are not washing our clothes on a flat rock in a creek somewhere and our water comes through a pipe and not out of a cistern or hand dug well. We have however, reached the conclusion the conveniences of modern ordinary Americans is undoubtedly in the hands of a genie, like the Wizard of Oz, sitting at a console someplace, whose job it is to keep us grounded in reality and level the playing field.

When you get ahead a bit, the genie checks the work sheet and sends a reminder not to get complacent and confident. When Sharon slips into a room and calls me SR with just the right inflection and tone, I know something is off the tracks. This week was an example of the genie (probably sitting in China where most of what we use today is manufactured) catching us up on sticker shock and reality.

Our washer and dryer was in appliance hospice. Weak but functioning, with anybody’s guess as to when it was going to throw ace/deuce and put us in panic mode. Sharon listed the tired old appliances on a Facebook marketplace and gained 16 responses in 30 minutes. We recouped a pittance toward the purchase of new stuff priced high enough to require a stout Gin and Tonic and a moment of reflection. It was installed and promptly began leaking (drain hose improperly affixed to the machine) which is a good thing as we then discovered the dryer vent hose was not properly connected to the outlet. (The installers are connected to the genie)

Wednesday of this week, Sharon walks into my office with that easily recognized “SR’ and told me the microwave would not heat her coffee. It was, in fact, dead, making all the appropriate noises with no function. It had been repaired, under warranty, about a year ago. The warranty was expired (late March). We are replacing the microwave with a range hood and going to a table top model. Anyone working in an office knows these last for years, weaker but functioning.

Yesterday I slipped out to get the first rotation of the tires on the Orange Crush. The tech walked into the waiting area and told me they could not get the locking lug bolts to break free with the provided key. I took the car to the local BMW dealer who has master keys to handle this job. The tech found me after a bit and told me he broke two master keys but one of the bolts would not break free ( I wanted all lock bolts removed and thrown in the river, replaced with normal lug bolts.) He said they would likely have to drill the bolt out and ruin the wheel in doing so. The estimate was $1,498.00. My response was, with emphasis, “oh hell no”. I am still researching my options here. (Before you ask, the tire dealer assured me the bolts were hand torqued when I bought these tires 6 months ago.) Any ideas out there would be appreciated.

The genie has exacted a toll this week and we need no further evidence of the inflationary cycle we are living in. I want to find him, buy him a drink, and send him to Jeff Bezos’ place where money is not a concern. We have replaced nearly every damned appliance in our home and I have asked Sharon to please approach me carefully when the HVAV system goes on the fritz. We plan to take every extended warranty we are offered, something I have never considered before now, just to provide some peace of mind. Our neighbors have asked us to not touch anything major in their home and to put in a word with the genie if I can find him.

I mean nothing personal if you call me by name and I respond with “hell no”. It is a conditioned reflex and I am a little jumpy these days. Such is life in the middle class where convenience comes with a price!

Have a great week!

SR

At 74 YOA, you would think I could be trusted to go out in the world and buy a dozen doughnuts, or God forbid, a washer and dryer. It turns out that I am woefully unqualified for either endeavor, having failed to grasp the nuances of venturing forth in the retail world. These things become apparent when an ordinary buyer, me, marries a consummate shopper, Sharon. I have been schooled, but sincerely doubt I’ll meet the standards for membership in the exclusive group of folks who strike fear in the best sales representatives out there. Let me explain.

A week or so ago, in our quest to sample the table fares of eateries in Springfield, we hit a little eatery that was, well dismal. We saddled up, and decided on a doughnut to assuage our hunger. I was driving and slid comfortably in the drive through at a local Krispy Kreme. Then the wheels, so to speak, fell off. I thought a half dozen doughnuts with a single creme filled kicker, ought to do the job for Taz, Sharon and me. If you are up to speed at this point, you are a buyer, not a shopper. Between the ordering kiosk and the window, I learned that I had botched this entire experience up. I learned that if you order a dozen instead of merely 6, your next visit would net you a free dozen. Who would have thought it. I also learned the deal was for glazed and the creme filled kicker killed the deal, unless ordered in addition to the dozen not in place of one of the dozen. I next learned the creme filled was not what I wanted, rather I wanted a Bavarian Creme filled. Finally, the cost of 6 of the cursed things was just a few bucks less than a dozen, which Sharon earmarked 6 for our neighbors who liked doughnuts. If I am able shake this experience off, I am going to ask my attorney to go with me the next time I have a hankering for a doughnut.

Shaken, but not undaunted, Sharon and I ventured out to buy a washer and dryer to replace the 10 year old machines that had served us well, but were exhibiting signs of imminent failure, ready for washing machine hospice. I thought that learning to fly was challenging but it is nothing compared to selecting a new washer. Sharon, again, was well ahead of the curve in her research, schooling me on the differences between impellers and agitators with a subtle reference to hybrids, reflecting both features at once. Next I was schooled on the merits and demerits of top load vs. front load, and now can carry forth with the best washer salesmen (women) out there. Finally, I can cite facts and figures from a number of reputable sources as to the performance, reputation and serviceability of the major brands on the market. I was ready to write the check after the first of 6 stops in Springfield, which would have been a critical error. Sharon, with her research and study of no less than 10 reviews, telephoning of friends and relatives literally all over the country, was focused, leaving me feeling like the guy tossing balls at Bozo the clown at the State fair. She finally settled on exactly what she wanted and Costco will be delivering it next week.

It is always this way. I am a buyer, a mark to even the most inexperienced sales staff out there. My union with a professional shopper has saved me from the blissful, challenged man at home choking down the wrong kind of doughnut while his new washer clangs around, using too much water and not deep cleaning as some of the newer technology does. The washer would have been too small to knock out a comforter and Tazzy’s blankets and certainly would have been configured incorrectly.

I am a buyer in remission. She is my perfect companion, with her deft ability to steer me away from dreaded buyers remorse, likely a fatal malady at my advanced age. God bless you kiddo and stay close. I appreciate your allowing me to buy guns, boats and tools….although experience has taught me to run even these things by you!

Have a great week!

SR

A cup of coffee on a cool morning found me reflecting on the really great things I have been privileged to experience in my lifetime. The cars of the ‘60’s were all about displacement and horsepower. The women about understated sophistication and raw beauty ensconced in denim and exuding warmth and honesty. The cinema relied less on special affects and more on substance with story lines being far more important than computerized imagery. I have been a movie guy from the time I was able to pony up fifty cents at a box office, usually on an Army base, to escape the military routine for an hour or so. I have spent hours in a theater and been blessed with a wife who enjoys the escape that good movies provide as much as I do. Today I am offering a synopsis of my 10 all time favorites for your review. The mention of any of these films always elicits a smile…..

1. The Graduate

A wonderful coming of age film, shot in 1967, about a college graduate (Dustin Hoffman) who has his degree and lacks focus as to “what’s next”. He is seduced by an older lady (Anne Bancroft) and falls in love with her daughter (Katherine Ross). He is in a pickle that perfectly describes that tenuous time when young men are guided by instinct, testosterone and confusion. It is ranked 17 on the list of all time great movies. Raw and honest comes to mind.

2. Christmas Vacation

Chevy Chase is at his best in this 1989 classic Christmas movie. The cast is star studded, the acting superb and the humor elicits side splitting laughter. Randy Quaid is damn near type casted playing the hillbilly relative who shows up with his crude but honest persona. His surprise appearance during the Holidays is superbly cast and written. The humor is timeless and we have seen this film many times. We have all lived through similar Christmas vacations……

3. Bullitt

This 1968 film, shot on the streets of San Francisco intensely sharpened my desire to become a police officer. It has it all, the macho image of swaggering Steve McQueen, a vintage Mustang, car chases and the adorable Jacqueline Bisset to offset the excitement laden car chases. McQueen was at his best as a detective on the hunt.

4. Shawshank Redemption

A 1994 film starring Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbin’s shot in Mansfield, Ohio. This is about con men in a prison where relationships are really all you have. Morgan Freeman is splendid in his role as a wise man among wise men in a prison setting. This movie is all about the acting chops of Freeman, understated excellence and immensely entertaining.

5. Schindler’s List

A 1993 tour de force. Liam Neeson is Oskar Schindler who saved well over a thousand Polish/Jewish folks from the holocaust by employing them in his factories during the war. Filmed in Krakow, Poland, Schindler must navigate the twisted world of WWII German occupation while maintaining an image of the good German industrialist.The cast includes such notables as Ben Kingsley and Ralph Fiennes taking the viewer on an emotional ride the likes of which few films can. Both educational and deeply disturbing, you won’t be disappointed with this terrific film.

6. Saving Private Ryan

Tom Hanks is superb (when is he not) in this 1998 film about an American Infantry company on a deadly mission to bring a WWII serviceman home to save him from the fate of his brothers, already killed in combat. This movie was filmed in England and Ireland and features Edward Burns, Matt Damon and Tom Sizemore as soldiers supporting their Captain in this deadly mission. Believe me when I tell you that Spielberg is at his best here, with the combat footages being as close to real as you will ever see. The efficiency of a rifle round, and the sounds of small arms fire is captured brilliantly. If you have ever wondered what combat is like this will help you to understand. In war, death comes quickly.

7. E.T.

I loved this show. If you let yourself go, empathize with the little extra-terrestrial, and identify with the young man’s attempt to get the alien back where he belongs, this one will get you. This was filmed in 1982 and stars Dee Wallace, Henry Thomas and Drew Barrymore. The special affects are necessary to pull this one off and evokes an “Old Yellow” kind of emotion with a better ending. One can get lost in this movie, in a good way.

8. One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest

Shot in 1975, in and around a mental institution in Salem, Oregon, this movie showcases the incredible skills of Jack Nicholson with an interesting performance by Danny DeVito. Nicholson feigns insanity to gain entrance to a mental institution as opposed to prison and is incredible in his ability to identify with and manipulate the patients and staff. It is listed as #33 on the list of all time great movies but could easily be in the top 10. This movie garnered 5 academy awards, an amazing acknowledgement of its incredible power. Nicholson has never been better.

9. In The Heat Of The Night

This 1967 film captures the racial overtones of policing in the Deep South with terrific performances by Rod Steiger and Sidney Poitier. It is a sweaty portrayal of the emotions prevalent in that day and time. This is a gritty movie, nominated for 5 Academy Awards, and brings small town Mississippi to the screen. The portrayals by these guys is powerful in every sense of the word. The age, the circumstances and the police…..

10. The Shootist

This was John Wayne’s last film, shot in 1976. Wayne died in 1979. He plays an aging gunfighter who tallied thirty killings before being diagnosed with terminal cancer by a doc who guarantees a painful death and suggests he (the doc) would not want to die that way. Wayne ends up going out in a blaze of glory, racking up several more kills before his final, dramatic ending in a bar fight. I loved John Wayne, a swaggering hulk who took no bunk from anyone throughout his film career. This movie was a fitting end to his tremendous career, is a western classic and featured a star laden supporting cast.

Of the hundreds of movies I (we) have seen, these immediately come to mind, although there are several others that merit consideration. My purpose here is not to persuade, or even solicit affirmation, rather to provoke thought about your list. Hollywood is seeking political relevance today and has become a special affects cauldron of noise and light while abandoning reality. What a shame…..For me, the plot needs to be at least plausible. I am not a sci-fi kind of guy and loved it when Hollywood was cool.

Have a great week!

SR

Sharon and I recently gave serious consideration to pulling up stakes and moving to the country, as both our roots are firmly planted in farm dirt and the sounds of nature as opposed to the urban drone of traffic, sirens and neighbors close enough to listen to March Madness on your television. We sat down and worked through a detailed analysis of why we should and why we should not return to the country. Not surprisingly, the ability to enjoy a variety of table fare surfaced on our list of needs and wants. Big Time. After over ten years living in Springfield, we have managed to establish a less than inclusive listing of favorite eateries, a difficult task as there are more than 600 places to eat in and around this overgrown cow town. On my big day, when my mortal remains are in a vase, folks would do well to remember that from birth until the end, I enjoyed groceries. (In retrospect, I should have been a chef.) We believe it is time to pay homage to our current favorites in and around Springfield. Here is how we see it.

Like Mexican or Tex Mex? We like Senor Julian’s, where authenticity is stressed. Next up is Cesar’s Old Mexico, which offers ambiance and ample portions of really good table fare. In a sea of Mexican offerings, these guys rise above the pack.

Yearning for Italian? It is hard to beat Bambino’s Cafe on Delmar, where the restaurant is in a house like setting, and the food both delectable and uncomplicated. Following closely is Avanzare, upscale, and a little more complicated.

In terms of the Far East, we prefer Nakato’s for Japanese, hibachi style food, although at my age getting up from the floor after eating can be a spectacle. We travel to Lebanon for sushi and Bento Boxes, from a little eatery, the Sushi House, intimate and simply wonderful. Everyday Thai serves up authentic Thai fare, with little heat or a 4 alarm kick, as Thai should be.

Ozarkians love breakfast, and Springfield delivers a variety of choices. For solid, country style breakfasts at a very reasonable price, Cedars is the go to. For a little more variety, then enjoy the wonderful crepe’s at the Aviary, with the Lemoncello being simply delightful. Note, their coffee is stout here, a small price to pay for delectable choices, but will set you upright in your chair.

Thinking fish? The catfish at B-29 and FD’s is hard to beat as well as the fillets at Republic’s Flat Creek Inn. As long as we’re talking fried, there is an art to good hamburgers and we think the Gathering Place, WF Cody’s and the Black Sheep in Chesterfield have this All American specialty down pat. Black Sheep also offers a french fry that is not a run of the mill, crinkle cut, from the freezer, standard. Good fries are a necessity with a perfectly prepared burger.

Craving the gospel bird? Rosie Jo’s takes the blue ribbon. Pan fried, served up with proper sides, also fresh and lots of iced tea will take you back to grandmother’s table. Flat Creek also does a pretty good job with chicken. As a side note, the clientele at Rosie’s is comprised of folks straight from the countryside, warm and friendly. You may have to wait, but it is certainly worth it.

You cannot swing a cat without hitting a pizza or Chinese place in Springfield. We have tried many of them, and they mostly taste the same. With us, Pappo’s is the best pizza, a little unique and very consistent and their fresh baked cookies are decadent. Corner 21, across from Mercy hospital on Sunshine, is a little, obscure restaurant that serves up wonderful Chinese fare, closer to authentic than anywhere in town. I lived in the orient for many years and have high expectations. They meet them and more. It is easy to drive by this place, so be looking.

Missing from our list is really good BBQ. There is a reason. Like Consumer Reports with their “recommended” list for cars….well, we have a problem here as Sharon’s smoker eclipses the local offerings. We also lived in and around KC. Sorry guys, BBQ is not a strength in this area.

Finally, when we are looking for a quick deli style sandwich, our go to’s are consistently Nearly Famous and the Brown Derby Deli both serving up terrific sandwiches, in an inviting atmosphere.

In the off the beaten path genre, we recommend Cafe Cusco, located downtown. It serves up Peruvian dishes that are absolutely wonderful and a little different.

When you visit our town, this guide will should get you started. We have visited many eateries around here, and have many more to go, but wanted to offer suggestions to our friends who are making a sojourn to Bass Pro or other Springfield attraction. We mostly eschew chains, preferring locally owned and managed establishments, where good service is the norm. Come on down and enjoy our offerings in the Queen City.

Have a great week!

SR

I thought my readers, mostly conservatives, would appreciate an encapsulation of the events of the past few weeks down in Georgia. Not since Billie Joe jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge has there been this much excitement. Face it, we all like Cliffs Notes versions of momentous events, so here we go.

1. Fani and Nathan, a pair of morally bankrupt attorneys, shack up some years ago.

2. Fani is a District attorney and sets out to nail Donald Trump for election interference relying on a criminal enterprise law normally reserved for organized crime cases. (RICO)

3. Fani hires her stud muffin to prosecute this case. (Note, he has zero prosecutorial experience, but is apparently very capable of lighting a fire, so to speak)

4. Fani and Nathan are outed by Trumps people and there is no escape outside of lying, a lot, under oath.

5. Fani and Nathan gin up the most outrageous and obvious set of lies imaginable and roll them out in front of a Democratic superior court judge who is running this year for his seat, in a Democratic district.

6. The judge chokes down the testimony over several weeks. He is in a pickle. After deliberating, he splits the baby and issues a mysterious judgement that she either quits or fires her boyfriend. The judgement is patently incomprehensible.

7. In a syrupy statement, Fani “accepts” her stud muffin’s “resignation” to “protect democracy”.

8. This judgement has left legal scholars across the country collectively scratching their head and butts as they attempt to make sense of it.

9. Wade has a half million in the bank, Fani resumes her persecution of Trump and the judge has propped up his campaign to remain in office. Meanwhile the rest of the world is laughing at the state of our judiciary.

Save yourself the trouble of reading about this in the Democratic Party publicity arm, ie the media, and instead plan a great early spring week.

This folks, is how the man in the street sees this. Really easy stuff….

Charge on!

SR

This week has been a dandy. I have decided to catch folks up on the state of the union on our roads and streets, leaving the train wreck of a SOTU to the pundits who get paid to raise hell about such things. Traffic safety experts are focusing on the causes of our rising death rates on our highways, a consideration I was once paid to mitigate. You might be surprised as to the factors in play today reversing decades of decline in fatal accidents brought about by engineering and safety improvements.

Where are we? From 30,000 feet, our fatality rate is 3 times that of Canada and Australia and 5 times that of England and Scandinavian countries. The past decade, in America, has been unforgiving on our roads.

First up is physics. The true killer in an accident revolves around the dissipation of energy, mass in motion if you will. A human being at rest is dissipating little energy, where as if they are in motion, it takes energy to get them there and energy to stop them. The weight of SUVs and their higher center of gravity is a factor. The more weight that is in motion, the more energy is available to disassemble the human being attached to or in it. Simple really.

Next up, marijuana is making its presence known. One study has determined that about half of folks involved in serious accidents had at least one active drug in their systems. Most folks react to an impending crash by attempting, in some way, to avoid it. When you are mellowed out, smoking a fat boy of some exotic weed, you are not going to react quickly. Delay then triggers the chain reaction that results in everything coming to rest, often with bent steel and torn flesh, and far too often to those who were innocently motoring along, driving within the law.

While other considerations are in play, such as relaxed enforcement, cable and concrete barriers that preclude moving speed measurement (by patrol officers), the next clearly evident factor is the cell phone. In America you get one when you quit teething, and it has become a huge distraction in driving. In fact, these little devices are patently addictive. Despite half hearted attempts by governing bodies, drivers are routinely distracted while texting and manipulating their phones. This becomes even more deadly when done during hours of darkness. Take the physics issue and combine it with the uniquely American obsession with the cellphone and you are going to bend steel and rend flesh. The statistics don’t lie. Cellphone distraction is quickly rising to the top of the list of deadly obsessions.

I am preaching here, but have vivid memories of folks who have ended their day on a stainless steel or porcelain table in the preparation room of a local mortuary. Driving is a serious business that deserves strict attention not distraction or mental compromise. Engineering is wonderful, but will never displace the laws of physics or effects of mental compromise. Some 40,000 dead folks annually make my point.

Attila the Hun once remarked that you should not kill the Hun who brings the bad news, rather praise him. If you use your phone while driving or drive while toked up……I am talking directly to you. I make no apologies.

Have a great week!

SR

This week a trooper from my old outfit, The Missouri State Highway Patrol, was featured on national television for a Herculean feat of strength. A large, round bale of hay was centered in a lane of one of our highways, and needed to be relocated to the shoulder. After some consideration, Trooper Isaiah Lemasters leaned into this bale, tipped it up and off the roadway. He did this by relying on personal leg strength and, presumably, youth. I could have done that in my day, however; I would have had to shove the damned thing off the road with my cruiser. His amazing performance was captured on his dash cam, a sequence his grand-kids will view with amazement in the years to come. Officers like Lemasters are why the word “sir” was invented!

My career with the Patrol involved field training four new officers, fresh out of the academy. Three went on to very successful careers while one fell on health related hard times and left the patrol prematurely. I benefitted from these experiences as much as the new guys, as their eagerness and energy was always refreshing. Most of my road career was in a rural environment, where you became one with the agricultural industry. This leads to a story involving another amazing feat on a hot late summer morning when my cub and I were dispatched to a cow on a roadway in Cass County. The cow was easy to find, as she was actually a 1500 pound Angus bull whose olfactory capabilities had led him to tear down a worn stretch of fencing to pursue a receptive cow standing behind a fence on the other side of the road. With an uncharacteristic hint of cruelty, I dispatched my cub to chase the bull back into his pasture, and sat back in air conditioned comfort to watch his mastery of the situation. The bull eyed him carefully, with snot slinging contempt, and stood his ground as my cub waved his arms and extolled the bull to go where he belonged. The bull was not impressed. My cub grabbed a sunflower from the fence row, stripped the leaves off and smacked the bull across the hindquarters as he offered a blood oath to turn him into hamburger if he didn’t get his ample ass back where he belonged. I should have intervened, but was paralyzed with laughter from the front seat of the cruiser. The bull eyed my cub with contempt and, I swear, a touch of respect, knowing full well he could launch the officer into the stratosphere. Incredibly after the third whack across his hindquarters, the bull turned and trotted into his pasture. The cub patched up the fence and returned to the car, hot but satisfied he had met my expectations. After wiping the tears of laughter from my cheeks, I explained to my cub he had just defied death and undoubtedly used one of his proverbial nine lives. This officer went on to become a fine officer with a distinguished career.

I should note that it had not been long before this, while quail hunting with my Sergeant, that I knocked a bird down which fell into a pasture ringed by an electric fence. My Sergeant dispatched me to get the bird, necessitating crawling under the hot wire. I sauntered over and picked up the bird, oblivious to another Angus bull standing in this pasture. The bull took exception to my trespassing and came after me. There was no sauntering as I ran for my life and was nearly electrocuted in the fence as I escaped the bull. My old Sergeant is smiling as I tell this story, from his chair in Heaven, where old Sergeants go for eternity.

So it is on this early spring morning. Recollections brought to light by the efforts of a superbly conditioned officer pushing a thousand pound bale of hay, all in a days work. God bless you Isaiah, and God bless every officer out there. Each of you will have your stories to tell as you go about lending dignity to a country that needs all the dignity we can muster.

Have a great week!

SR

On a warm summer evening in 1974, while slipping down US 24 in Lafayette County in my cruiser, I fell in behind an obviously intoxicated driver in an older pickup truck. The stop was uneventful, however, I could see there was serious discord between the intoxicated young driver and his young, pregnant wife. After arresting him, I placed the wife in the back seat of the Patrol car, as she didn’t drive, and off to the county jail we went. So far, no problems. (The jail was also the living quarters for the sheriff in those days, and a kitchen area was between the dispatch area and the drunk tank where my drunk was headed for the night). The wife was seated in the kitchen with a cup of coffee awaiting a ride home from a friend she had called. Then the wheels came off.

My Corporal at that time was one David D. LePage a living legend on the Patrol. DD (we were big on initials back then) was a big guy, mostly jovial and extremely capable as an officer. He had a half measure of patience and a refined sense of right and wrong which resulted in a colorful career on the patrol in later years. (David later became a criminal investigator and superb polygraphist, trained in New York.) David had entered the jail, just in time to see my drunk slap his wife out of her chair as I walked him back to the tank, through the kitchen. It happened quickly, but not as quickly as DD’s response to the drunk’s conduct. David grabbed my drunk and body slammed him into a kitchen counter and in a millisecond closed both his eyes and bloodied his nose. The drunk resisted DD’s efforts to control him, and it only got worse for him. When we left him in the drunk tank, he was moaning softly, lying on a bunk, and I am sure wondering if he was going to live through the night. The wife was okay, with a deeply bruised cheek and was conveyed home. The only counseling the husband received was from our sheriff, Gene Darnell, assuring him the next morning that if we received notice of continued abuse towards his wife, the night before would seem like a picnic in the park. The sheriff meant it, believe me. The drunk, standing in front of our magistrate judge several weeks later was contrite and placed on further notice that any further spousal abuse would result in his being invited to spend a year in the jail where his earlier, momentary lapse of consciousness occurred. Women beaters are not easily retrained, in my experience, and I have often wondered where this couple ended up.

What is the point here? The beat goes on. We are inundated with examples of spousal abuse and domestic violence on a daily basis, criminal activity that most often results in a paltry response from an over burdened court system. David LePage died a young man in 2013 after a great career on the Patrol and a second career as an insurance investigator. He made a difference, if only for a minute, in the budding career of an abuser made to absorb a punch that would have made Ali proud. My point is that criminal activity deserves a swift response, or the activity only gets easier for the criminal. If we do not return (impossible?) to the days of swiftly meting out justice, we are giving our society away….

I was privileged to serve with some of the finest officers to ever don a uniform, guys like David LePage who left a storied wake on the Patrol. Officers who could laugh deeply but respond swiftly when the occasion merited such a response. There were no cameras in those days and the courts stood solidly behind the officer…..unlike today. I have said it before and it is worth repeating, I wouldn’t last a week out there today. Thanks, David……for placing one abuser on the other end of the stick. Rest in peace, brother…..

Have a good week!

SR

Missouri doesn’t grab the headlines like our east and west coast neighbors, and that is how we like it. This relative anonymity suits us just fine. We have strong agricultural roots, build lots of cars, and are often caricatured as barefoot hillbillies with a corncob pipe and an old coon dog for company. That is, until recently when our NFL football team went on a tear. Predictably, the Kansas City Chiefs ascension into the spotlight has awakened the folks who think we should change their name to the Kansas City (anything) other than something that disparages the American Indian. So far, we haven’t taken the bait. Here is how we got here.

The Chiefs were founded in 1959. Americans weren’t as sensitive back then, and Native American monikers were quite common. Sioux Chief baking ingredients, trains, cars, numerous aircraft and even Naval Officers and Army pilots reflect “Chief” in their titles. Webster says a Chief is highest in rank or authority. Who gave it a thought? That was then, before folks chose to be offended by just about anything. Chose is the operative word in my last sentence.

The football Chiefs were not actually named after a great plains Indian warrior. Their name rose from a white man who impersonated Native American Culture. The fellow was instrumental in developing the Tribe of Mic-O-Say, a part of the Boy Scouts Of America, back in 1925. Mr. H. Roe Bartle was as white as they come but says he was inducted into a local tribe of the Arapaho people. His Indian name was “Lone Bear” but he was referred to as Chief Lone Bear in the Mic-O-Say organization. You may remember that Bartle’s name is sprinkled throughout the history of Kansas City as he was a popular two term mayor in the ‘60’s. It was Bartle who convinced Lamar Hunt to bring the Dallas Texans football team to Kansas City. In a name the team contest, “Chiefs” kept surfacing and Hunt, in consult with “Chief” Bartle, found their name. Thus the “Chiefs” have as much a connection with the Boy Scouts as they do native Americans. By extension, the BSA incorporates Native American references into it’s organization. Bartle’s influence within the Boy Scouts extends into a beautiful, crappie filled cove on Truman lake at the Bartle Scout Camp, affectionally referred to as ”Boy Scout Cove”. (I have snatched untold numbers of fat crappie from these waters.)

One by one, out of respect for the folks who can find a reason to eliminate a black lady from a pancake mix box, monikers associated with the American Indian are being relegated to the trash bin of history. The Cleveland Indians and Washington Red Skins are notable examples. In some respects America hates tradition or is it that relevance only occurs when you are raising hell about something. You be the judge. The tomahawk chop and big drum at (gulp) Arrowhead (now GEHA) stadium will be next. This season a young boy in an Indian war bonnet was excoriated for his disrespect of Native American culture, evidenced by his headgear. I don’t know the kid, but am willing to bet that was not his intention.The Florida State Seminoles, Atlanta Braves and the Chiefs all depend on the “chop” to arouse the fighting instinct in their teams. Scant thought is given to dehumanizing the culture it is derived from, unless of course, you again “choose” to be offended.

Congratulations to the Chiefs! They are gridiron warriors of the first order who have obviously spent more time studying x’s and o’s than the battlefield strategy at Little Big Horn. Long live the tomahawk chop and big drum. Recently, old War Paint was retired. He was a beautiful Appaloosa ridden by an “Indian Maiden” around the field, stirring up the crowd. I am one old traditionalist who revers Arrowhead Stadium and Missouri’s own Chiefs! I also revere the Native American and his history, and choose to not be swayed by those who seek relevance by trading on their tragic place in our American culture.

Have a good week!

SR

The Supreme Court is hearing the arguments that will establish Donald Trump’s viability as a candidate for the Presidency. This happens later this morning. I thought a summary of the facts would be helpful as we await their consideration and decision. Facts are what is needed, not hyperbole and partisan concern.

Mr. Trump, the presumptive nominee is perhaps the most polarizing candidate for this office in our history. Without arguing his successes and failures, he is immensely popular in spite of the legal morass that has enveloped his post Presidency existence.

Mr. Biden, the current President and presumptive Democratic Party nominee, enjoys a favorable rating that hovers in the 30% range and is showing signs of mental decline at every turn. Without arguing his successes and failures, he is the current Democratic candidate.

The Democratic Party, in an inclusive, purely political fashion, has challenged Mr. Trump, offering a number of legal arguments and theories as to his fitness for office. These attacks, with very little bipartisan support, have involved the courts in an issue that is normally decided by the people. Again, I am not opining as to the validity, or not, of these arguments. Simply, we are on the edge of the court’s deciding the Presidency and not the people. Suffice to say, there is a great divide in the people as to who shall be the next President. It is also important to note, this division should be decided by the people.

While we await a reluctant court’s ruling on a partisan political issue, it is wise to note the wisdom of President Abraham Lincoln, as espoused in his famed Gettysburg Address.

“In our system of government, the people, by the people (and) for the people, the American people, not the courts or election officials…should choose the next President of the United States.”

My opinions as to who should be elected are mine alone and matter only in the ballot box. They are no more, or less, important than your opinion. Collectively, the people should make this decision. It is the beauty of the system Mr. Lincoln wrote about.

We should have our answer fairly soon from a Court that has been forced into a dark corner and involved in a process that belongs to the people. They are in a damnable position and would be well served to return the matter to us…..where it belongs.

SR