Vacation's Over (Sigh)

Vacation.  We dodged forest fires in Montana and flash floods in Utah.  We hiked to ancient ruins and petroglyph sites and watched Indian dances and looked at great art.  It was an invigorating experience on a lot of levels.  Unfortunately  all good things must end and we had to come home.

The bright side is the house still stood.  The dark was the condition of the yard which we've spent the last couple of days correcting.  And unpacking, laundry, shopping, etc.  Sometimes you're more exhausted after the trip than during it!

And of course there was the news.  What can I say? Catching up was not invigorating on a lot of levels. The most egregious would seem to be the re-emergence of Anthony Weiner.  What a despicable man and what a manipulative wife.  It shames me that these people are the face of our government.  At least it seems that way considering the publicity the media gives them.

And Hillary!  If indeed she is Huma's Rasputin she's not the wonder woman she'd like us to believe.  Bill's indiscretions were at least with women he actually knew and he didn't send the details out over social media!  I cannot imagine anyone of Hill's purported intellect seeing a parallel with what she endured with what Huma has chosen to endure. For what gain? Women should be just as appalled with the women as they are with the men.

Sitting for hours on end while travelling between destinations gave me time to reflect on whether or not I should continue with this blog.  Then I decided if I don't, if people of my generation don't speak out about criminality, greed, self indulgence, immorality and on and on, who will?  What young people are exposed to in this day and age will truly become the new normal and they'll be left but to wonder what the "good old days" were really all about.

We as a group may no longer be considered relevant but we can be an itch that can't quite be reached and won't go away.  We can provide a point of comparison if nothing more.  What the future brings is up to those who are coming generations removed from us, but if we don't keep speaking out about that which is unacceptable, and why, history will be for naught.  Too many are too willing to revise it which in of itself is egregious.  So for better or for worse, I'm going to keep on haranguing about that which I find unacceptable and contemptible.

Put It To Rest

There are other victims of the Zimmerman case you know. Besides the two families involved consider those who have businesses being damaged by the 'protesters' as far away as Los Angeles.  The biggest victim, however, is the cause of racial harmony.  The stretch the media had to make to label Zimmerman a 'white Hispanic'.  Why didn't they label Aaron Hernandez a 'black Hispanic' and where was the outrage over his shooting of his 'friend' Odin Lloyd? It's selective coverage at best and prejudicial at worst.

I suggested the race card be folded in my last post. Wishful thinking.  No one heard nor would have listened if they had.

I really feel so sad that the black community's loudest voices come from the likes of Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton and a variety of celebrities who have no identity without outrageous face time. Where are the Ben Carsons?  Better yet, why isn't the media seeking them out?  Yet again, why does anyone have to be sought to counter divisiveness?

I'd like to suggest all those who won't let it go to do so. But I know they won't.  So I will.  I'm off for a week or so in a quest to close out the world for a time.  No cell phones, no television, no papers. Perhaps a temporary cure for my addiction. Heaven.

I'd say 'rest in peace' but I don't want to push my luck. I'll settle for a brief respite. I'd much rather live to see the country and the media come to their senses. That should assure me of a long if frustrating life for years to come. The problem is I know my addiction to commenting will come roaring back. Oh well.  We all have our burdens to bear.  Mine are so minor in comparison to many I'll just have to deal with it. Don't we all!

Fold The Race Card!

What's the use of having a justice system if more effort is put forth to game it than to find justice?  When race dominates whether warranted or not?

The Martin/Zimmerman trial is over and Mr. Zimmerman has been acquitted.  Now the race baiters are trying to have their day as did the Florida AG who strutted her stuff before the cameras last night. Not to mention Al Sharpton and his ilk. And you wonder why people are jaded and have no respect for any body or any thing.

My personal opinion as to whether or not the trial was fair or even warranted matters little but I'll tell you anyway.  First, I don't think it was warranted and two, I think it was more than fair.  A big shout out to the ladies who closed out media hype and did an exemplary job.  What does it say, however, that they have to remain anonymous for their own safety?

I think about comments along the line that one person is dead, another isn't and that says it all.  It doesn't even begin to say anything.  Or that Zimmerman was told to stay put and he opted not to.  Again, that tells you nothing.  That's what trials are for.  To sort out what happened and to place or clear blame as needed.

Having helped organize a neighborhood watch program in a California neighborhood in which we lived for awhile, I understand the frustration when a rash of burglaries make such a program necessary.  It puts everyone on edge.  Any unfamiliar person is suspect.  Especially at night.  Especially if wearing a hoodie making identification iffy at best.

I also understand that a 17 year old might not be thinking about the implications of wandering a neighborhood at night while wearing a hoodie.  The disconnect brought about the tragedy, not race.

What resulted was a tragedy for all involved but it didn't rise to the level of a hate crime until outside influences had their way. If you insist on inserting hate consider the hate for what was happening to one man's neighborhood.  One man who cared enough to take part in the neighborhood watch rather than staying safe behind closed doors.

I know how I felt about a neighbor who was upset with me for an entirely unrelated reason, saw a strange car in our driveway while knowing we were away.  We came home to a break in. So much for neighborhood watch.  I was angry.  Oh, yes.  And had said neighbor bested me in a scuffle and was pounding my head on the sidewalk I would have indeed feared for my life. If I had a gun and knew the attacker I likely wouldn't have used it, but if said neighbor had been a stranger I think it likely I would have if I could have.

Would it have been a hate crime?  Only if the neighbor was of a different race, right?

I'm so tired of the hate mongers looking to make a bad situation worse, of celebrities calling for what could be life threatening action for no better reason than they can and for the blacks who choose to using the race card every time there is an incident involving someone other than one of their own.

Bad things happen. It's part of life as tragic as that may be.  If we ever want the pot to stop boiling, however, we have to fold that race card.  As long as it's in play not just the pot boils, everything does.  Myself included.

Malala - A True Role Model

At 16 years of age Malala Yousafzai is more of an adult than most in the public eye.  She has had a rough go of it having been shot and nearly killed by the Taliban but she is strong and focused.  She wants an education.  She understands the importance of it.  She will be a mighty force as she matures.  She's one now.

After watching her speech at the UN I browsed the channels and got my daily dose of the crowds gathering in anticipation of the George Zimmerman verdict and listened as they told of plans to minimize violence should it not go the way the mob wants.

I listened to Eliot Spitzer defend his proclivity for prostitutes and thought of how proud we should be to have leaders with the moral fiber of not only Spitzer, but Mark Sanford and Anthony Weiner to name just a couple.

I heard the Janet Napolitano is going to leave Homeland Security to become President of the University of California.  They want a name, obviously, in lieu of academic experience.

I wondered if any one of them has the depth of understanding that young Malala shows. I think not.  For she is thinking about the future of not only herself but millions like her who are currently being deprived of an education and a multitude of basic freedoms.  She realizes how bleak their future will be without at least a rudimentary education. Somehow I can't imagine her ever embarrassing herself, hurting her family or whining for forgiveness.  It's not the fiber from which she is made.

You see, she "gets it".  She has lived her short life among those who have to fight for every step forward they get.  Not among those who indulge themselves yet haven't the good grace to go away.  Not those who are entrusted by their fellow countrymen yet are paralyzed by ideology and mean spiritedness.  Her life and her future don't have the time for such petty indulgences.

Sixteen years old and she has this to say,"Let us wage a global struggle against illiteracy, poverty and terrorism, and let us pick up our books and pens.   They are our most powerful weapons."

Not an administration who denies terrorism and refuses to carry the torch for the rest.

"One child, one teacher, one pen, one book can change the world. Education is the only solution.  Education first."

Malala is both child and teacher.  She has her pen and uses it well.  Her 'book' tells volumes about who and what she is and will be.

She's not an American. Unfortunately it would seem we're no longer made of such stern stuff.  But if she were, I'd wait for her to be the first female president.  She has something our leaders are lacking.  Wisdom, substance and a very real awareness of reality.

The Anasazi Aren't The Enemy!

Is there no way we can escape the world of political correctness?  It seems it is even going to follow me on vacation!

A while back we got into a conversation with Joe Day, who along with his wife Janice, run the Tsakurshovi Trading Post on Second Mesa of the Hopi reservation.

He chided us for driving too much and not stopping often enough as he dug out a map of Indian Country and proceeded to mark routes to treasures we never knew existed. Ever since we've been planning how we could break up these trips into doable time frames. The time has come for the first of what we hope will be many.

We've long been interested in the ancient ones, the art and the culture of those known as the Anasazi  who have, for reasons yet unknown, totally disappeared.  I even consider myself an honorary Anasazi having earned it on a hike to Petroglyph Point in Mesa Verde.

You see, I'm not the most graceful of individuals and I have an unabated fear of falling.  I am also game for just about anything Hub suggests so I slipped and slid on the trail to the petroglyphs.  Mostly downhill it wasn't bad.  I hadn't reckoned on how we'd get out.  Retracing our steps wasn't the most appealing thought so we decided to just complete the loop back to the top of the mesa.  What I hadn't counted on was having to climb out.  Literally.  On a hand and toe hold trail up the side of the cliff.  I looked at Hub helplessly.

"I can't do this!"  "Sure you can. I'll be right behind you to catch you if you slip." Wonderful.  Then we'll both be dead.

With a deep breath and wobbly resolve I slowly but surely made it to the top. I breathed a huge sigh of relief as Hub joined me and we began the trek on what was a nice flat trail along the edge of the cliff.  All went well until we reached an outcropping of rock.  The trail ended.  It commenced on the other side.  I was deflated and scared witless.  There was no way I could step around that outcropping with no more than blind faith.

"I'll go first and tell you where to put your foot,"  Hub assured me. Terrific.  Should I  face out or in?  You know, I don't remember which I actually did.  But do it I did.

"No wonder they've disappeared," I remember muttering.  "They all fell off the bloody cliffs!"

The rest was smooth sailing.  Walking.  Whatever.  When our trek was over for good I proclaimed myself an honorary Anasazi for having conquered my fears and survived.  I consider it one of the greatest accomplishments of my life.

Enter the politically correct who we all know have invaded academia.  In their infinite wisdom they've decided the word Anasazi is pejorative, just like Eskimo and Indian.  Spare me.  At least the Eskimos and Indians are still around!

To the Navajo the name means "ancient enemies" or "enemies of our ancestors".  That may well be true, but so what?  They're all dead!  Do the Navajo even care?  But the academics do and have decided on "Ancestral Puebloans".

Nope.  It just doesn't sound the same.  I am not an honorary "ancient enemy" nor am I an honorary "Ancestral Puebloan."  I am and always will be an honorary Anasazi. Pejorative or not, the name has pizzaz!