Tag: Politics

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Hooves, by Pat Gourley

“That horse has left the barn”

When I hear the word “hooves” in nearly any context I think of horses though many different mammals have hooves. My early days on the farm never involved horses so I may have made the association of hooves with horses after watching Gene Autry and Roy Rogers on 1950’s TV.

I remember that the often ridiculous and blatantly racist TV westerns seemed to distinguish between native American horse-hoof prints from those of the always white settlers, American law men and cavalry by noting whether the horses had been shod or not. Native horses had no shoes where as those of the white folk always did, a simplistic view since many native tribes were quite adept at acquiring horses from settlers and others who shod their horses. On these TV shows blacksmiths were often shown dramatically forging by fire while shaping the shoes and then nailing them onto the horses’ hooves. This really is the extent of my connection with the word hooves, though I do vaguely recall older male relatives on occasion playing “horseshoes”. That was a game though that never caught on for me personally.

Another memory of hooves was the apparent use of fake cows’ hoofs being used by moonshiners wearing them to throw off federal agents chasing them during Prohibition. Not sure exactly how this worked since cows have four feet and humans only two. However wasting time on thinking about this application of hoof-foot-wear as a means to sneak to one’s moonshine still in the woods will do little to address any real world problems these days I am afraid.

I can though make a tangential leap from hooves by way of horses and cows to the phrase: “That horse has already left the Barn”. This implies of course to the after-the-fact reality that it is too late to do anything about whatever. If one adapts this as a world view these days there are many things that seem too late to do much about whether we want to admit that reality of not.

Climate change sadly is one reality that it may very well be too late to do much about. That horse seems to have galloped away and kicked the door shut with both of his back hooves. Still in my more optimistic moments I can’t help but think that if we were to embark on a Manhattan Project to save the planet that salvaging an at least livable, though probably less than desirable, planet might be doable.

Laughably perhaps I can hope that the recent hurricane evacuations for both Trump’s Mar-a-Lago estate and Rush Limbaugh’s beachfront properties in Florida might turn into teachable moments. That however does not seem likely.

My go to person around all things climate change and how this is intimately tied to capitalism specifically is Naomi Klein.

I highly recommend her two most recent works: This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. The Climate and “NO is Not Enough” subtitle “Resisting Trump’s Shock Politics and Winning The World We Want”. Here is a link to these works and Naomi in general: http://www.naomiklein.org/meet-naomi

It isn’t that the Donald Trump’s and Rush Limbaugh’s of the world don’t believe in climate change, I actually expect they do. It is that they realize better than many of us that the only effective possibility for addressing this catastrophe is a direct threat to their worldview and way of life. That their greedy accumulation of goods and capital will save them from the resulting hell-scape in the end is truly delusional thinking on their part.

I feel the only viable solution being an acceptance of the socialist ethos: From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.

© October 2017

About the Author

I was born in La Porte, Indiana in 1949, raised on a farm and schooled by Holy Cross nuns. The bulk of my adult life, some 40 plus years, was spent in Denver, Colorado as a nurse, gardener and gay/AIDS activist. I have currently returned to Denver after an extended sabbatical in San Francisco, California.

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Anxious Moments, by Louis Brown

( A ) Because Bernie Sanders told his followers to campaign for Hillary Clinton, I went to the local office of Ed Perlmutter, member of U. S. Congress, and did many hours of phone work for her. However, I felt uncomfortable doing so. Hillary Clinton, despite her consistent claims to being a liberal, really isn’t. She admires Henry Kissinger, voted for the War in Iraq and generally does not even acknowledge the existence of the liberal base of the Democratic Party. She was for the TPP before she was against it. Her opposition to the TPP was not sincere and she really never touched on the underlying hostility the TPP represents to working people in America. However, when I campaigned for her, I kept my real opinions to myself. Was this an anxious moment of an awkward situation?

( B ) When I took the course for para-legal studies at Queens College, NYC about 12 years ago, I noticed there was no real preparation to pass the final exam. Many participants told me you really did not have to know much to pass the final exam. So I did not take the final exam. And I flunked paralegal studies at Queens College. In addition to the dishonesty of the course presentation, I also noticed at Queens College (Flushing, NY) that there were virtually no Americans in attendance there – not in paralegal studies, not in the undergraduate school or the professional graduate school departments. I once saw a group of Jewish students, and I said to myself well at least there are some Jewish Americans attending college here. But as their boisterous dinner party in the cafeteria proceeded, I learned they were all from Israel, no Jewish Americans. Later I noticed there was one exception, one awkward Jewish American young man, not a part of this group, and I definitely identified with him. He was taking the paralegal course too. I doubt he passed the paralegal final exam either.

My point is that, as much as I am against xenophobia and am generally anti-Trump, I do think it is strange that the American public is not permitted to attend medical school. Trump is succeeding in appealing to people’s fears.

( C ) At Democratic Party meetings, including the Lesbian and Gay Democrats of Queens County, supporters of the AFL-CIO, like myself, remember when Democrats and the AFL-CIO spoke for the economic interests of about 80% of the American public, and, as a result, the Democratic Party flourished and was the majority party for many years. Now that the Democratic Party has dumped the AFL-CIO, they are losing dramatically elections all over the country. Many people like me know why, but our pro-labor advocacy is rarely brought up at Democratic Party meetings or at their promotional events. About 3 years ago I called the Colorado AFL-CIO and they told me they were not on speaking terms with the Colorado Democratic Party. I called the offices of Ed Perlmutter, Michael Bennet and Mark Udall, and they all told me they could not comment on what the Colorado AFLCIO said or thought about them. Why not? Because of the absence of the AFL-CIO in Democratic Party politics, you can expect their numbers in the Congress and state legislatures to decline even further. What a shame!

© 12 June 2017

About the Author

I was born in 1944, I lived most of my life in New York City, Queens County. I still commute there. I worked for many years as a Caseworker for New York City Human Resources Administration, dealing with mentally impaired clients, then as a social work Supervisor dealing with homeless PWA’s. I have an apartment in Wheat Ridge, CO. I retired in 2002. I have a few interesting stories to tell. My boyfriend Kevin lives in New York City. I graduated Queens College, CUNY, in 1967.

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Hysteria, by Gillian

The old black-and-white movie flickers and jumps. A woman screams. And laughs. And cries.

‘You’re hysterical,’ booms a strong male voice.

A strong male hand slaps the woman’s cheek. Silence; followed by a quiet sobbing.

That is hysteria in the movies.

I actually don’t think I have ever experienced that kind of hysteria; my own or anyone else’s. Perhaps it has never actually existed, outside of old movies. Or perhaps I have simply been extremely fortunate, having lived a life free of horrifying experiences which might create hysteria in myself or others.

No, I have not had to live such nightmares; but certainly I have seen them unfold on the TV. I have watched everything from terrorist attacks to mass shootings, from earthquakes and mudslides to tsunamis, hurricanes, and tornadoes. I have seen people’s response to such things. But, you know, I honestly cannot recall hysteria. People run, sometimes screaming, but that is a simple reaction to danger – the good old fight or flight response. I have seen tears: strangers enfolding each other in comforting arms, injured individuals sitting on the ground, alone and confused. That is shock and grief. It is not hysteria. Desperate people wave to helicopters from rooftops barely protruding from floodwaters. They shout for help from beneath heaps of rubble. These are people trying to save themselves. They are not hysterics. It makes little sense to me that hysteria should be encouraged by Mother Nature, anyway. She has given us an overwhelming survival instinct. We will do whatever it takes to live. Hysteria is counterproductive; it interferes with our ability to save ourselves. I’m sure it’s not listed on Mother Nature’s list of approved survival tactics.

On the other hand, a much more dangerous form of hysteria is alive and well and ever expanding, especially in recent years with the phenomenal growth of social media; mass hysteria. Until recently, this kind of group emotion was of necessity engendered in a group – a physical group of people close together, shoulder to shoulder, acting in ways none of them would have alone. The New Year’s Eve festivities downtown are great fun until a few idiots begin to egg each other on to break some windows. Before anyone realizes what is happening, dozens or even hundreds of people are heaving anything handy through windows, and the looting starts. Mass hysteria tends to lead to mass arrests. The soccer game is over and the crowds wending their way towards the stadium exits. A gang of lager-louts, till now only a little obnoxious as they react to the home team’s win or loss, begin an argument with opposing supporters. Voices get louder. Voices get angry. One man swings a fist. In seconds dozens of fists are swinging. Innocent bystanders rush for the streets. Hundreds are trampled in the panic; dozens killed and injured. And even without physical violence, hysteria is ugly. Just watch our political conventions.

Lately an even more frightening, more pervasive, form of mass hysteria has appeared, fomented by social media. An angry young man no longer needs to fly to Syria and attend a mosque frequented by violent extremists to become what we now chose to call ‘radicalized’. He can work himself into a frenzy of hatred and bigotry simply by reading what is offered in great abundance on his iPhone or laptop. He barely needs to get up off the couch. Perhaps he will never appear on any no-fly- or watch-list, but he is every bit as dangerous as those who do.

Mass hysteria is almost as scary even when involving no actual violence. These days all it takes is sound bites; Obama was not born in this country, Hillary is a crook. Repeat it often enough via all forms of social media, but particularly TV, and some of those listening will repeat it. Some of those hearing it will then repeat it, and in twenty-four hours there is this ground-swell of mass hysteria all based on a lie.

But strangely, I have observed recently, social media can create something which seems to me even stranger; almost the antithesis of hysteria. But if the opposite of hysterical is calm, this is behavior surpassing anything the word suggests to me. It is a level of denial for which I think we have no word. It seems to have appeared along with the universal inclusion of cameras in cellphones.

On the TV screen I see a man almost up to his armpits in swirling water. He holds one arm above his head, gripping his phone in his hand. Debris of all kinds swirls around him in the rising waters of Tropical Storm Sandy. He shouts breathlessly into his phone, capturing the image of himself struggling to remain upright. His commentary, as played on the television, consists mainly of beeps.

‘I’m here in bleeping New Jersey, in my own bleeping house. I’m standing in my bleeping kitchen, man. I don’t see how the bleep I’m gonna bleeping get out of here.’

He turns the camera off himself to show a jerky unfocused view from a window.

‘And over there it bleeping looks like every bleeping thing is on fire, man. How the bleeping bleeping bleep do you get bleeping fire on bleeping floods? Bleep. Bleep.

I gotta bleeping get up to the bleeping roof. Bleep … bleep ……’

After a few seconds of wildly gyrating film of ceiling and walls and water, everything goes blank and silent.

You see more and more of these death-defying shots, movies, and commentaries. People seem increasingly more interested in capturing their own images for posterity than in saving their own lives. Mother Nature must be very confused and frustrated!

Or perhaps she’s happy to see them go, cleansing the gene pool.

My very favorite so far, and I say so far because I reluctantly doubt that this new phenomenon is going away, is a still shot of a young woman in a bikini who obviously waited for the perfect moment to get a selfie as the tsunami waves broke through the windows behind her.

What is wrong with these people? I have no training as a psychologist, but I’m not too sure that your average shrink understands why people act this way, though there is, doubtless, at this very moment, at least one Ph.D student studying the topic.

Apparently the two people I have just described must somehow have survived. We have the content of their presumably intact phones. But how many, I have to wonder, have died in the grip of this strange ‘anti-hysteria’? I am starting to think that a good old-movie style face-slapping bout of hysterics might look downright healthy.

© August 2016

About the Author

I was born and raised in England. After graduation from college there, I moved to the U.S. and, having discovered Colorado, never left. I have lived in the Denver-Boulder area since 1965, working for 30 years at IBM. I married, raised four stepchildren, then got divorced after finally, in my forties, accepting myself as a lesbian. I have been with my wonderful partner Betsy for thirty years. We have been married since 2013.

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Cow-Town, by Will Stanton

“Cow-Town” generally has two definitions. The first, obvious one connotes a city or town that is noted for being involved in the cattle-trade. This is an old, traditional definition. The second meaning implies that a city or town, along with its inhabitants, is to some degree uninformed, uncultured, and unsophisticated. I remember while I was growing up in Ohio, Columbus was regarded as a “cow-town” for those reasons. I haven’t been back there for a generation, so probably it has changed some. I have heard that it has. For some time, Denver, too, was considered to be a “cow-town,” although it still is connected with the cattle trade and life-style.

While considering this topic “cow-town,” I began to ponder just how many cities, towns, and villages in the U.S. would fit that second definition. That reputation would have little or nothing to do with cows, nor the dazzle of modern infrastructure or sky-scrapers. It would have more to do with people, the inhabitants of those places.

I have been a long-term observer of human behavior, society, culture, and politics, particularly politics over the last thirty years and culminating with this Presidential election. I know that this conclusion may sound cynical, but I’m beginning to think that many municipalities might be considered to be “cow-towns,” regardless of size, based upon so many people being ill-informed, unsophisticated, uncultured, along with, too often, morally bankrupt.

For example, I’ve witnessed millions of Americans enthusiastically supporting politicians who spew fear, hate, anger, and who promote programs that are profoundly harmful, rather than beneficial. I have been forced to conclude that this reality of today defies all reason. I am unable to comprehend how so many Americans can be so delusional and apparently without moral-compass, failing to think and behave according to the “better angels of their natures.”

Whereas as the Democratic party, whatever its mistakes, weaknesses, or disliked candidates, does try to create policies and programs designed to improve society and the nation, the other does not. Increasingly over the last thirty years, it appears that those radicals who have taken over the Republican have focused only upon attempts to garner and to maintain power; and they have succeeded dramatically. Democrats have allowed themselves to be blind-sided and have been very slow in reacting. For example, Republican operatives cleverly figured out years ago that all they had to do was to grab power in state-houses, then gerrymander voting districts to disenfranchise Democratic voters. Records show that, in several states, Democrats have won discernible majorities of the votes; however, they have been given in those states only twenty-some percent of the seats in Congress. So much for democracy. The voting public was so unsophisticated that it allowed this to happen.

Today’s so-called “Republicans” appear to have to resort to stealing elections (sometimes with seriously felonious machinations, which I could go into detail covering the last sixty years), rather than presenting to the American public viable programs that could help the nation and its citizens. They seem to vote so consistently against good measures and, instead, vote for greedy, harmful ones. I’m not religious, but I wonder whether these nefarious power-brokers have consciously chosen to be in league with Beelzebub.

Why are so many Americans so unsophisticated that they allow themselves to be manipulated into feelings of fear, hate, anger, deep delusions, and to voting even against their own best interests and that of the nation? Could we consider ignorance and irrationality part of being unsophisticated? I certainly think so, regardless of how sophisticated some believe they are.

In addition to egocentric manipulators’ unbridled grab for power, there also is the sad emphasis upon greed. Why do a few feel entitled to billions of dollars while the majority of the population struggle? Where is the logic? Where is the empathy and care for others?

I suppose the word “culture” may be defined in two ways, also. One may use it in general terms to denote a wide spectrum of a nation’s society. It legitimately also may be used to connote the highest quality of humankind’s creative efforts in art, music, architecture, and societal interactions. In this nation, however, culture, in that second sense, no longer appears to be of any importance to the majority of the American population, especially in contrast to some other nations, where the people and their governments care for, and support, culture. During World War II, the British Chancellor of the Exchequer suggested to Prime Minister Winston Churchill that financial support should be cut off from all British cultural programs of art and music and, instead, be added to the war-effort. Churchill’s reply was, “No. Why else are we fighting?” Churchill obviously understood the importance of creating and maintaining a high level of culture in a civilized country.

In just the last eighteen years, the United States has lost 1,083 symphony orchestras, in addition to numerous opera companies, ballet companies, and school programs in art and music. Hours of operation for libraries and museums have been shortened. Apparently, most Americans just do not seem to care. They would much rather be entertained by far less sophisticated diversions. At the same time that America has been rapidly losing its culture, the American taxpayer has shelled out 5.4 billion dollars to build twenty-two new football stadiums just since 1997. Then there is pro-wrestling, cage-fighting, monster-truck contests, and rap. No, it is not “just a matter of taste,” as some claim. Medical/psychological research has documented that much of the nation’s population prefers humanly toxic exposures rather than beneficial, uplifting experiences. Of course, as today’s Republicans constantly remind us, “Science should not be believed, nor does it matter. Culture does not matter, either.”

And, this is where I get back to “cow-towns.” If “cow-towns” are made up of people who are ignorant, uncultured, and unsophisticated, then there must be many, many such places in America. My concerns bring to mind some thought-provoking words from one of the most brilliant authors of the 20-21st-century, David Cornwell (pen-name John le Carré), from his superlative book “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.” I often quote these words. With one of the major characters, Carré had him speak feelings of dismay and sense of betrayal: “Do you know what is killing western democracy? Greed – – and constipation – – moral, political, aesthetic, – – – the economic repression of the masses, institutionalized.” Those words of condemnation were written forty-two years ago. Now look at us. Welcome to a nation of “cow-towns.”

© 20 July 2016

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.

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The Zoo, by Will Stanton

I was told of a most extraordinary zoo, unique, in fact — the only one like it in the whole world. All of the examples at the zoo were endangered species, some of them right on the verge of extinction. I was warned that, if I did not go to see this zoo soon, some of the specimens might be gone by the time I visited it. So, I made a point of going right away

I spent an entire day at this wondrous zoo from morning to closing at dusk. I could see why my friend warned me that everyone on display was endangered of disappearing. They were all human beings, people of the most admirable qualities, apparently qualities not much valued any longer in our society.
The sign on the first display read, “Statesman.” It did not say, “Politician” or “Congressman,” or some such degraded title. I looked into his eyes and saw there deep knowledge and wisdom. I also perceived empathy and compassion. He did not have that facial affect of hate, rage, or deviousness that we have grown so used to with politicians. I spoke to him for quite some time, and he always responded in calm tones, his words truthful and rational. I then asked him where he came from, and he explained that he once was, what was called a very long time ago, a “moderate Republican.” All the others had died off, and he was the very last one. Lonely and rejected, he accepted his home here at the zoo. Out of compassion, I felt inclined to remain even longer with this lonely soul to give him some comfort, but I knew that I had much more to see and moved on.
I came to the next display, and the sign read, “News Journalist.” At first I was confused because he looked rather similar to the first display. When I spoke to him, he, too, sounded rational and well educated. After a lengthy conversation, I asked him what brought him here. He explained that there still remains a limited number of true journalists in the country, but mostly they had fled their environs because of increasing atmospheric toxicity and decreasing clean, healthful oxygen. Some of them had found new homes with lesser watched, sanctuary broadcast-channels that were attempting to counteract the toxins as best they could. He, himself, once was hired by Fox Noise but was fired after only 24 hours because he did not fit in. The fact that, after a day’s exposure to that environment, he threw up and passed out did not help. He was brought to this zoo as a dying breed.
I came to the third display, and the specimen reminded me of a weary laborer in old, mended clothes. That, in fact, was what he was. I asked him, “Why are you here? There are millions of people just like you.” “Yes,” he replied, “but many of us don’t last long. Affording shelter, food, and health care with such limited funds means that, too often, we find it hard to survive. I countered, “But, this nation has so much wealth.” “That’s true, too,” he said, “but only a tiny number of people control most of it. I met one of them once. He was a Wall Street hedge-fund manager. He reminded me of the most splendorous peacock, so well dressed was he in his five-thousand-dollar suit and thousand-dollar shoes. I stared at him, trying to understand how such a creature could exist. He reeked of smugness, and I perceived a sense of arrogant entitlement. I asked him how he had become so rich, and he answered, “Because I have barracuda blood in me.” The weary man then sighed, “I don’t have barracuda blood,” and hung his head. I moved on.
The fourth exhibit contained an elderly, blue-haired lady with spectacles and neatly pressed cotton dress. The sign read, “Public School Music Teacher.” I looked at her, and she responded with her own sad eyes and a look of resignation. “Why are you here?” I asked. “Because we no longer are wanted and are dying off.” “But, music is such a wonderful part of life!” I exclaimed. “How, can that be?” Patiently, she began to explain. “People have forgotten what quality is, and most schools have eliminated it from their curricula,” she lamented.” “What passes for music these days bares no resemblance to what once was cherished and enjoyed, music that could enhance the lives of the performers and listeners, music that could sooth animals, music that actually can create fresh new brain cells, music that can enhance the ability to learn other disciplines. Most people no longer understand its value and, frankly, don’t care.” I told her, “I care,” and we talked together for a long time, sharing our knowledge and love of fine music. Finally, she said, “Perhaps the people in the next exhibit may interest you. Go speak with them.” She sighed and sat down on a little stool, her eyes taking on a distant look, probably “hearing” in her own mind some beautiful melody. I slowly turned and walked on.

I noticed at the adjoining exhibit a sign that stated, “Singers.” “That’s odd,” I thought. “There are tons of singers out there. Just turn on the radio, the TV, go into an elevator or a restaurant or supermarket. You hear it all the time and all around us. You almost can’t get away from it. There are billboards announcing the imminent arrival of popular singers, and the $300 seats all are sold out. Curious, I walked up to the display. This one contained a young boy along with a man and a woman.

“Are you all singers?” I asked. “Yes,” they replied. Puzzled, I then posed the question, “You can’t possibly be rare and endangered. Why are you here?” They smiled at me sadly, and the woman spoke up. “It’s all relative. There are so many people who claim to be singers, but really who are not, that those of us who truly are singers are in a small minority.” “What do you mean?” I asked. She explained, “The human voice can be used in many ways to make a sound, but to produce a sonorous, beautiful tone and a controlled technique is special. You must have a good voice to begin with; then it helps to have the voice trained properly. In the past, more people, from popular singers to opera professionals and boys choirs, used to sing well; but that art is being lost with most people these days. Now they scream, which is a different vocal mechanism. That’s not singing.”

I stopped to think about what she said and realized that it is true. It seems that, everywhere we go these days, we are held hostage to hearing screaming. At first, I thought that perhaps district managers chose recorded screaming because it could force restaurant-goers to give up their seats and leave more quickly. Then I remembered that a waiter told me that the restaurant chain was paid by the distributor of that noise with the hopes that the listeners would be so enthralled with it that they would rush out to buy or download that atavistic noise. It all came to money. Having been given food for thought, I slowly turned and continued on my way. As I left, I heard the man, woman, and boy begin singing in harmony some sublime melody. I felt a very pleasant sensation growing inside me.

The next exhibit had a sign that read, “English Teacher.” “Now how does that make sense?” I wondered. “Every school has an English teacher. How can they be rare?” I introduced myself and asked her. “Oh yes,” she replied. “There are a lot of people out there called ‘English Teachers,’ and some of them really try hard to do a good job. But, it’s difficult when the students and parents no longer read and often don’t really care about literature and well spoken language, when the English teachers take a back seat to the math and science teachers and even the football coaches. Also,“ she continued, “many of the people who go into teaching no longer have a solid base-core of knowledge, read very little, and cannot even speak well themselves. People may have heard of Shakespeare, but how many of them actually have read any? Listen to newscasters speak, to people with advanced degrees and those with professional positions of importance, even professors. Apparently, it never has occurred to them that having a good command of English is of any importance, for their constant errors in diction, grammar, and style are egregious.” Tears began to roll down her cheek. She quickly picked up a small, hardbound volume of poetry and began reading one of them aloud, trying to console herself. I left her in peace.

I began to notice that, as I walked through the zoo, my shadow had grown longer, and the sky was losing its intense blue. I looked at my watch, startled to find how much time I had spent with the first exhibits. Evening and closing time were approaching. So much more of the zoo’s endangered species remained for me to see. I looked at the zoo signs erected ahead of me along the path. The first one read, “Honest Businessman and Honest Contractor.” I saw that there were two people in that exhibit. The sign beyond that read, “Faithful Husband and Faithful Wife.” Two people were in that exhibit, also. There actually was a small group in the next exhibit marked “Good Fathers and Good Mothers.” I stopped to think about that. Perhaps the most difficult and important task in the whole world is raising children to be happy, healthy individuals who constructively contribute to society. And, whether the child is raised by a father and mother, two fathers or two mothers, or a single parent, that daunting task remains before them. With so many failed families, perhaps, after all, that small group was rare enough to be in the zoo.

As I strained to see farther down the zoo path, I saw what appeared to be an endless series of signs, far too many for me to explore in just one day. I never realized until then how much was endangered in our society. I promised myself that I would soon return to explore further; however, I better have a solid breakfast and get an early start. I knew then that there was far more to see and to think about at that unique zoo than I had anticipated.

© 29 July 2015

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.

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Point of View by Lewis

This is a subject with so many ramifications that I hardly know where to begin. So, I will start from the only “point of view” that I can possibly defend–how I see the world through a lens that is mine and mine alone.

As I see it, “point of view” is somewhat misleading in that what matters is not what the eyes see–that is, one’s environment–but how that image is deconstructed in the mind of the observer.

I will not attempt to expound upon the reasons that one person might look upon an image of President Obama and see the Messiah and another Evil Incarnate. Still, it is nearly impossible to come up with a story that explains my truth on this question. I didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to be a liberal. No; one’s political “point of view”–the only one that truly matters to me–is derived from the sum of decades of living, learning and being loved…or not.

My father was born in 1911. The only time I saw him cry was when he was describing how his parents had lost their farm–their four sons’ legacy–to foreclosure during the Great Depression. He was an ardent admirer of President Franklin D. Roosevelt and spent most of his adult life assisting farmers to obtain loans from the insurance company he worked for so they wouldn’t lose theirs. His work helped him to feel of use to society and he understood the important role that government can play in lifting people out of despair. Despite having been dealt a bad hand himself as a victim of polio at the age of 20, he was a lifelong Democrat.

Mother, on the other hand, usually played the role of victim. I don’t want to say too much about her, since “Mom” is the subject for next week. Suffice it for now to know that she was never comfortable in the role of mother and housewife and felt that Opportunity had walked right past her door without so much as a nod in her direction. She could never share in the joy of my little successes, nor could she even stand to hug or be hugged. She was racist and took no particular interest in politics, though I’m fairly certain that she usually voted Republican.

Theories abound as to why liberals and conservatives are the way they are. I agree with people like George Lakoff who think it has something to do with early home life. He believes that conservatives tend to have grown up in homes that are dominated by a strict, disciplinarian father, where punishment for nonconformance is swift and painful. Liberals, in contrast, are raised by nurturing parents who believe that honorable behavior can be modeled and taught through example.

I grew up in a household with one nurturing but passive parent and one who was strict but also passive. How I turned out to be an activist lefty I cannot explain other than to observe that I identified with my dad’s sense of compassion and general love for people. He, at least, could hold me on his lap and read the Sunday comics to me while pointing to the words so that I could learn many of them by the age of four. I admired him. I feared her.

My point-of-view most likely comes from my assimilation of my dad’s politics through association. As I have aged, my politics has evolved far to the left of anything my father could imagine, even as the politics of the Right has moved just as far in the opposite direction. Perhaps if he had not succumbed to a stroke in 1990, he and I would still agree on most political issues. At the very least, I would like to be able to tell him how much he had influenced my point-of-view. I think he would take some satisfaction from knowing that.

© 25 November 2013

About
the Author

I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and I came to the beautiful state of Colorado out of my native Kansas by way of Michigan, the state where I married and had two children while working as an engineer for the Ford Motor Company. I was married to a wonderful woman for 26 happy years and suddenly realized that life was passing me by. I figured that I should make a change, as our offspring were basically on their own and I wasn’t getting any younger. Luckily, a very attractive and personable man just happened to be crossing my path at that time, so the change-over was both fortuitous and smooth.

Soon after, I retired and we moved to Denver, my husband’s home town. He passed away after 13 blissful years together in October of 2012. I am left to find a new path to fulfillment. One possibility is through writing. Thank goodness, the SAGE Creative Writing Group was there to light the way.

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Patriotism by Jon Krey

THE 14 CHARACTERISTICS OF FASCISM or 
WHAT CANNOT HAPPEN IN THE USA

Political scientist Dr. Lawrence Britt (“Fascism anyone?” Free Inquiry Magazine, Spring 2003, page 20) has studied the fascist regimes of Hitler, Mussolini (Italy), Franco (Spain), Suharto (Indonesia), and Pinochet (Chile) and found they all had 14 elements in common. I believe any country can fall into such an abyss, often unaware, especially when in a crisis of magnitude. We are not there at this point but we must be aware that making ourselves vulnerable through lack of present awareness and overlooking history could provide a dangerous precedent through which democracy could fall. Those of us who are aware should begin educational processes to prevent such. The characteristics listed below are a warning only. Let us be ever mindful as a nation to stave off such a calamity.

1. Powerful and Continuing Nationalism

Fascist regimes tend to make constant use of patriotic mottos, slogans, symbols, songs and other paraphernalia. Flags are seen everywhere, as are flag symbols on clothing and in public displays.

2. Disdain for Recognition of Human Rights

Because of fear of enemies and the need for security, the people in fascist regimes are persuaded that human rights can be ignored in certain cases because of “need.” The people tend to look the other way or even approve of torture, summary executions, assassinations, long incarcerations of prisoners, etc.

3. Identification of Enemies/ Scapegoats as a Unifying Cause
The people are rallied into a unifying patriotic frenzy over the need to eliminate a perceived common threat or foe; racial, ethnic, or religious minorities; liberals; communists, socialists, terrorists, etc.

4. Supremacy of the Military
Even when there are widespread domestic problems, the military is given a disproportionate amount of government funding, and the domestic agenda is neglected. Soldiers and military service are glamorized.

5. Rampant Sexism

The government of fascist nations tend to be almost exclusively male-dominated. Under fascist regimes, traditional gender roles are made more rigid. Opposition to abortion is high as is homophobia and anti-gay legislation and national policy.

6. Controlled Mass Media

Sometimes, the media is directly controlled by the government. But in other cases the media is indirectly controlled by government regulation, or sympathetic media spokespeople and executives. Censorship, especially in war-time, is very common.

7. Obsession with National Security

Fear is used as a motivational tool by the government over the masses.

8. Religion and Government are intertwined

Governments in fascist nations tend to use the most common religion in the nation as a tool to manipulate public opinion. Religious rhetoric and terminology is common from government leaders, even when the major tenets of the religion are diametrically opposed to the governments policies or actions.

9. Corporate Power is Protected

The industrial and business aristocracy of a fascist nation, often are the ones who put the government leaders into power, creating a mutually beneficial business/ government relationship and power elite.

10. Labor Power is Suppressed

Because the organizing power of labor is the only real threat to a fascist government, labor unions are either eliminated entirely, or are severely suppressed.

11. Disdain for Intellectuals and the Arts

Fascist nations tend to promote and tolerate open hostility to higher education, and academia. It is not uncommon for professors and other academics to be censored or even arrested. Free expression in the arts is openly attacked, and governments often refuse to fund the arts.

12. Obsession with Crime and Punishment

Under fascist regimes, the police are given almost limitless power to enforce laws. The people are often willing to overlook police abuses and even forego civil liberties in the name of patriotism. There is often a national police force with virtually unlimited power in fascist nations.

13. Rampant Cronyism and Corruption

Fascist regimes almost always are governed by groups of friends and associates who appoint each other to government positions and use governmental power and authority to protect their friends from accountability. It is not uncommon in fascist regimes for national resources and even treasures to be appropriated or even out-right stolen by government leaders.

14. Fraudulent Elections

Sometimes elections in fascist nations are a complete sham. Other times elections are manipulated by smear campaigns against or even assassination of opposition candidates, use of legislation to control voting numbers or political district boundaries, and manipulation of the media. Fascist nations also typically use their judiciaries to manipulate or control elections.

REMEMBER, GEORGE- GOD DON’T LIKE UGLY

“There are six things which the Lord hates, seven which are an abomination to Him:

1. Haughty eyes

2. A lying tongue

3. Hands that shed innocent blood.

4. A heart that devises wicked plans

5. Feet that make haste to run to evil

6. A false witness who breathes out lies.

7. A man who sows discord among brothers.”

–The Book of Proverbs—

© 13 November 2013

About
the Author

“I’m just a guy from Tulsa (God forbid). So overlook my shortcomings, they’re an illusion.”