That's That and That's Where It's At...

 As John Dickerson so aptly put it after the election: "Buckle up"! 

I rooting for us We The People. We have just punted and we'll see if the defense can hold.

I'll paraphrase something Wendell Berry wrote in his "Doing's and Sayings" collection of homespun idioms. 

"He a nice man"

"Lie's a bit, I reckon"

How you know that"

"Ain't that much Truth..."

Enemy Within? That's BS, and "everyone knows this"?

 Tractor Thinking...again

I did not vote for someone who:

Has been tried and convicted 34 felony counts by a jury of his peers.

Been accused and found guilty of assaulting at least 2 women without consent and disrespects a woman's right to do with her body as she sees necessary.

Accused of taking secret and top secret documents from the federal government claiming they belong to him...and defying authorities saying they are his, and his alone...and evidence that they were shared by people with no security clearance.

Made phone calls imploring Ga. Sec. of State to find enough votes for him to win.

Accused, and indited of inciting a riotous crowd to descend on the Capitol of the United State of America to stop his own Vice President from certifying the official vote tally of each State of the Union, as required by law, in order to keep himself in office as President of the United States of America. Further, watching the proceedings on television and refusing to interfere, although implored by those in his family and staff to do so. 

Making false claims of voter fraud in many States, all of which were debunked by US Courts of Law, some by judges appointed by the President himself. Yet he still insists it is true.

Has promised retribution against anyone, past and future, whom he feels has "mistreated him".

Admires and hobnobs with dictatorial leaders of countries not friendly to our country or way of life.

Consistently lies,  and creates misinformation to confuse, and infuse distrust in the processes of our government agencies.

A man who would "abolish the Constitution" in his own words.

Someone who said, "Hitler did some good things".

Used political campaign donations to play legal fees in fighting legal woes.

Used every mean possible to delay, put off, blame and muddy the waters to save his own skin at the expense of others. He has thrown many who have done his bidding under the bus, including his own Vice President... 

Someone who would replace civil servants with persons who swear allegiance. The Pendleton Act of 1883 established a merit-based system for hiring federal government employees, rather than using political affiliation and including nepotism.

Lastly, I do not accept that I am "the enemy within" in United States of America. I am an American citizen with all rights and privileges granted by the Constitution.

 

It Ain’t About Red or Blue, but We, the People.

Remember this quote: "There are no winners or losers in war...only who's left". A truly sobering thought.

I became a Dove long before the Dove/Hawk days of Vietnam. I was scratching my head over man's insistence on destroying each other. I listened to the news during the Korean "conflict". I became convinced that avoiding wars would be a good thing. 

Talk is cheaper than bullets. I know it's hard to listen when people you have issue with talk. Walk a mile in their shoes and then listen. It's easier to be objective, and have productive dialog when you understand the issues from both sides. 

I'm an early baby boomer, 1941 model. I was born six months before WWII started. We came together "in our finest hour" some say. 

The world remained in a state of war until July of 1953. Does war really qualify as our finest hour? I have a few  friends who never knew there father because of WWII, Korea etc. We are only who's left.  

Our country is barely a teenager compared to the age of many of the world's civilizations, Rome, China, India all have fallen to rise again from the ashes. There are lessons to be learned from history that led to the fall of centuries’ old civilizations.

Another quote, if you please.

“Old men start wars that young men fight”.  

 The United States of America is a resourceful country now being tended by old men whose time in the political arena should 'a, would 'a been over years ago.

My pre baby boomer generations “political” life was the mid 60's and 70's, ie Nixon/Clinton administrations, yet there are senators, congressmen, etc. from those times still stumbling around in the halls of Congress. 

I have nothing against old age and functionality. At 82 I do pretty well. 

Tractor Thinking #1

Garden plowing, road work, bush hogging and hay making are also tractor thinking time. Things just pop into my head and I follow down the rabbit hole. I thought about all the goings on just in my family and realize I can't keep up with the world any more. It changes so fast I'm left in the dust of my own generation. I came to the conclusion I like it that way. I could care less about smart watches, 80" TV, the latest "athletic" shoe or "smart" phones self driving cars or the #1 movies, the next best chef, concert or dance move.

Tractor thinking #2

We cannot afford another worldwide conflict started by old men sending young men to war.  The stakes are too high. Some say the population demands wars to push down population. That's BS.

There are to many unhappy souls with too many red buttons to push, drones to fly and triggers to pull. Why are the most popular games on X Box or whatever medium "war games". It's hard enough to tell friend from foe in this country just walking down a city street. We wring our hands and our hearts go out to families of senseless mass shootings, suicides, and senseless acts of violence.

There is enough chaos out there in the universe. Let it stay there. Have we forgotten about random acts of kindness, paying things forward, the notion of all good things come with patience? Instant gratification is the rule of the day, it seems.

Tractor Thinking #3

Why do we no longer teach civics in schools. I enjoyed my  9th grade Civics class.

Tractor Thinking #4 

When did politics become a bonafide occupation? It ain't a job for life, it's a civic calling. Why were Term Limits drawn into the Constitution if you just get a job as a congress person and stay for 30 years? Just heed the calling, do your civic duty at the local, state or federal level and go back home to your family and personal life.

Tractor Thinking #5

The formative days of our Republic were tumultuous from everything I've learned. My Uncle Red was a Lawyer and professor of Jurisprudence. He said there was always lots of cussing and discussing, sad talking and slow walking, but Compromise won the day and our way of life. We have had our dark days yet we still are the UNITED STATES of America. Don't give up on it now.

Compromise means eating some crow. Compromise is not an easy walk in the park. Compromise sure ain't what we see in our country today. Compromise means no one gets exactly what they want, but accept the decision made and move on to tackle other issues. 

Tractor Thinking #6

One particularly unsettling rabbit hole the tractor   introduced me to was the concept of politicians unwillingness to deal with issues. It is apparently less painful to fence sit, and play the blame game card than not being re-elected to the gravy train our present political system offers our politicians. One for all has become all for me and mine. 

Maybe Tractor is right

HEY, YOU GUYS, PAY ATTENTION, YOU MAY GET WHAT YOU WISH FOR and or WORSE.

WE the People are the UNITED STATES. WE NEED TO STAY THAT WAY!

Let's not forget that.

1

We The People should not stand by and watch the baby be thrown out with the bathwater!

Be a critical thinker. Get information for trusted sources and make decision on valid data. It's the best we can do, I think.

Of Immigration and De=mocratization

I will agree that things have gotten out of hand on the Southern Border with Mexico. Policies change with administrations, as if there was ever a working one for long. 

Are we back to the building of walls to keep people in or out? They didn't work for Hadrian in England, nor  the Chineses Dynasties. 

Razor wire, border guards, busing to "sanctuary" cities, calling in State Militias from states not our own, and many other desperate policies haven't worked...at all. Desperate people driven by hope aren't easily discouraged.  

We have an antiquated way to seek legal entry into this country. Chaos loves confusion. It's been chaotic for so long we can't remember when it wasn't. Duh!

It's unlikely anyone in the US Congress will do more than "fling the language around with some wherefore and whereases. Mitch McConnell once remarked he had pile of bills on his desk and hadn't looked at a one of them. He ain't the first or the last to be privy to such piles of We, the People's elected officials conduct. 

Immigration reforms must be simpler, nimbler and less time consuming. It will save money, time, and lives. Things in our world change rapidly. It will take a fluid compromises that can adapt quickly to situations that cause the situations we see today. All America's problems are just situations. We need to assess them as not insurmountable, but as a challenge.

I agree it is not our job alone. Countries in crisis need to work out the problems in their own backyards. Governments should be for the people. Too often they are not...leading to the world at war, a changing climate, starving people. These are things that all countries can work on. We're not in this alone.  Happier people make more stable countries. Governments should help in making the health and happiness of it's citizens their first priority.

There are 70 something dictatorships in the world we live in, and the number is increasing. hope it ain't our out of lack of attention, lack of participation, lack of education as to how our Democracy works. A 9th grade Civics book would work.

Another question. Do you have a clue where your family immigrated from? If not, someone in your family might. Ask around to relatives, or join Ancestry or some other genealogical site  and do the work. Who first came across the big pond as an immigrant in your family? What were the circumstance that caused them to leave their homeland, friends and relatives for the unknown facing them.

In the this 48 states, we can express an opinion, carry a banner, vote for elected officials to legislate for the good of all citizens. There are rising threats to that right to vote, based on illegitimate claims that some people are more equal than others.

Masses of people in the world do not enjoy such privileges of free choice. Erosion of those privileges, and the guardrails that protect our Constitution are being undermined by AI, fake news, political paralysis, fear mongering, conspiracy theories and self interest groups. We are inundated with data and make decisions on the  insufficient data and a lack of critical thinking on our part in a rapidly changing world. 

This noble experiment called Democracy ain't gonna end well if we hold to this path of mistrust, divisiveness and social tensions.

 Maybe Congress should call the Midwives! We need Congress Reborn! We is met the enemy and it are us'uns. 

Wise up people.  Stop, Look, and Listen. Thinking critically about things doesn't cause pain, I promise.

 

The Small Blue Ball: A New Year Greeting/Warning

 New Year's Eve...

So, the past year was tumultuous to put mildly.

Political dialog: Non Existent/Divisive 

War: Seeming around the globe 

Weather: Destructive and unpredictable

 Water: Scarce and getting scarcer

 Stewardship of our ecosystems, flora and fauna: Lacking/Dwindling 

Human condition: Dire 

Well, ain't that a bummer of 2023!

The above observations are one Octogenarian's view from my 15 acres of paradise on a The Small Blue Ball.

 We, the People of this fragile Small Blue Ball must not and cannot forget it's is our home, our only home.  The moon ain't our home, nor is Mars. Put the money wasted on narcissistic fantasies of  living "somewhere else" to good use on the Small Blue Ball and leave fantasy to Walt Disney and Science Fiction writers. It's gonna' take a monumental amount of imagination and cash to fix what we've already messed up in the last 50 years to begin to put right the Small Blue Ball. It's our nest.

Keeping the Small Blue Ball happy, the water flowing, trees producing oxygen, coral reefs filtering, glaciers moving, oceans working, flora and fauna, including our animal selves is tantamount to our survival as large brained pedal, intelligent homo sapiens. Are we a noble experiment gone awry?

The Small Blue Ball  isn't a oyster or a cherry to be plucked bare. When that happens, and it is happening with amazing frequency, there ain't no more. Forever is a long time.

Government that should administer to the people who elect and trust them to do right by trust placed in those officials. More often nowadays, they tend to abuse those who empower them.

War seems to be in style again. Mostly against the innocent populations that inhabit the unjustly invaded countries. I've never seen it written that War is Necessary on the Tombs of the Ancient Pharaohs, or anywhere else, for that matter. I don't believe war is a necessary human condition. It proves nothing except who is left at it end.

The Small Blue Ball Weather has taken a toll in 2023. Hot/ Dry/ Wet/ Cold/ Cyclonic/ Fiery/ Quakey, and generally traumatic for many in the world this year.

We have nomenclature:  climate change, global warming/ natural cycles of nature. Our planet is under siege. As I have stated many times. Pogo Possum had it right on the first Earth Day..."We have met the enemy, and he are us". The Small Blue Ball is losing the ability to reliably deliver climate zone heat and air at the moment. Why is under investigation, but I suspect the answer was succinctly put by a small cartoon Possum. 

So we should try to reverse some of the known causes, and see if that helps. If it doesn't, and it will take time, blame it on the Stones.

Our very food source is under siege.We have lost so many species of plants, animals and insects to our lack proper protection of our nest...more are never seen on earth again everyday. Lost to Greed?  Lack of Stewardship? Education? Again, Possums can talk.

Harmony People...Harmony and Understanding, Hard Work, Attention to the Blue Ball that feeds us will give us the Peace on Earth we wish for. Find your courage of pursue the salvation of the Small Blue Ball

Jan 1 is only a date...everyday counts,

Happy New Year...

Patrick

Our Spring by Robert Samuel Lancaster

" Covered by a great block of white flint, the spring had been there since ice had rent the land. It was shaped like a mitten, and a sweet stream of water ran from the trunk. In winter, it was too warm to freeze; in summer, too cool to believe. 

It’s cooling grace sprang from a high hill on which Popular and virgin White Oak gave shade. For eons it was unknown to man, know only water sprites that haunt such places. Long ages passed before even a deer dropped an antlered head to drink. The water was not like all water; more lipid, damper, showing all the qualities of the original element. Its name was life and magic. 

This hidden, haunted place was at last discovered by man. No longer did it flow free as nature permitted. Now it began to obey, to be channeled, to be led. Some one of my ancestors acquired the land. He built a log house nearby because of the spring. For the spring too, he built a log house, small and neat. The branch was channeled between two cucumber tree logs. Space was provided in the spring house for churning butter. A little dairy house, it was filled with crocks of cream and buttermilk, choice vegetables and other things needing to keep cool. 

Much activity centered around the spring house; the milking gap was nearby. Wash pots for washing clothes of farming people lay within comfortable distance. A path lined with Walnut Trees line the path to the spring from the house. The distance was about 100 yards. Uphill from the spring, water was carried for a hundred years by hand. Ten thousand gallons I alone carried to the house! All water for a myriad of household uses came from that free, stone covered spring. I grew up and first became a man by experiencing my years by that spring. 

Coming to the spring at night, the hair on the back of my neck stood erect, feeling the hot breath of a panther breathing nearby. No place was lonelier at night; the great trees, the burble of the creek flowing nearby, the sound of an owl’s wing, muffled, but threatening. A boy became a man by that spring."

In rummaging through my Uncle Red's writings, I occasionally come upon a reflection. They are usually short, as the one above. His notebooks are filled with hardly legible lecture notes on Russia, the mid East, Cuba, and other world  issues and problems of the late 50's and 60's. Hard to read and barely remembered by my teenaged self of the 60's, making the task harder now.

Uncle Red, or Robert Samuel Lancaster, taught Jurisprudence Prudence at Baghdad University, University of Tokyo and Political Science at the University of the South at Sewanee TN.

He grew up on a 70 acre farm nestled in the hills around Floyd Virginia.

This is my latest find; nestled on a page that included his synopsis of Russia and the Cuban missile crisis. 

My Christmas Story

I have had a Christmas Day for 82 years. 83 if I add the one that Mama had me squirming around inside. Some better than others, but each unlike every other day. Some are better remembered than others and some are romanticized, as memories fade and are brought to mind again by the season. I dwell on the 1947 to 1955 version of Christmas remembered.

Well, on June 25th 1941 out into the world came a little Patrick Rhodes Shields, named Patrick 'cause Mama liked the name, middle name Rhodes for Daddy's Grandfather Rio Rhodes. Sarah Virginia Shields was born in 1944 and Robert Wayne Shields in 1945. Future wild Indians of Oconee Heights.

The end of WW2 set off a great change in the lives of the American public. New job opportunities, for one. My Daddy, Wayne Rhodes Shields took a job in Athens, GA. as Recreation Director. 

Thank you Jesus, I could have been raised in Meadville, Pa., Grafton Il., Mill Village, Pa., or McClean, Va. Daddy chose Athens, Ga., great place to grow up and a good wonderful small town to grow and sprout wings. Dreaded and despised college (mandatory) behind me, adventures awaited. As my Uncle Red said to me once,"you never let your schooling interfere with your education". 

Athens was a small Piedmont town in 1946. It was the County Seat of Clarke County, the smallest of 159 counties in Ga. It was home to the University of Ga. Athens population was around 19,000, and maybe 1300  students. That changed dramatically when the free Government GI Bill for Veterans began to expand college enrollment at colleges around the country. Athens became a intellectual and cultural center.

We found an apartment in a huge Georgian style house that had been broken up into apartments for the first year in Athens. Mama wanted a "farm". Daddy really wasn't convinced, but the price was right; it was 4 acres, with a run down old house with good bones built in the early 1900's. It had been a English White Leghorn chicken farm in the 30's. The chicken house was repurposed and there were about 5 smaller buildings and a garage. This was in 1947.

There was plenty of elbow room back then for we three to roam. We had  a cow, a bunch of chickens, usually a hog to butcher every year. There weren't many kids around. Mama grew up on a farm. Daddy grew up in a small Pa. town with farming relatives. It was a big step for them both, bless 'em. Guess they thought it was a good place to raise young'uns.

So,  the farm was cleared of Kudzu, Wisteria and a bunch of Privet, and the house stabilized, sorta. We didn't care... we three were happy there. Heat was provided by fireplaces and a coal stove, with the help of a small laundry heater style wood stove in the kitchen. Cats, dogs and blankets furnished the heat in our freezing bedrooms.

Now, that out of the way, let me tell you what Christmas was like for us 3 little country kids.

First things first. SCHOOL'S OUT!!!  Christmas vacation! Of course, our parents were not really with the program. They were working. We were pretty much in our own custody to roam the hills, creeks, and fields for miles around. I can't remember any parental instructions except feed the animals and be home by dark or when you hear the car horn. 

A day came to hunt up a Christmas tree! We never  heard of buying a tree. We cut one down and brought it home. 

Daddy had an old A Model Ford with a Sears one wheeled trailer to pull behind. We three kids would load up in the trailer with Wan, the bird dog. Mama rode up front leaving us to bounce down the dirt roads. Cotton was no longer king. Fields, worn out from years of misuse, reverted to sagebrush, scraggly pine and sweet gum thickets. 

We'd go to a friend's 300 acre farm on the Jefferson River Road, unload and start walking. Selection of the tree was Mama's job. I don't know what kind of tree they had at her "Mama's" but that kind wasn't available in a sagebrush field of Ga. She tied white cloth to likely candidates. Daddy carried the bow saw and the old .410 shotgun in case we jumped a rabbit, or Wan pointed a covey of quail. Mama sent us three to the "swampish place" to find Smilax, and admonished us not to get our feet wet. Yeah, right.

Mama finally made up her mind. The tree finally selected. The ride back in the trailer was chilly as the sun sank lower. Daddy could never find the "tree stand" he made last year. We had long spikes and nailed the tree to it after cutting off the end to Mama's specifications. We marched the tree into the house, usually knocking something over. The tree resided in front of the fireplace at one end of the big living room, leaving the other fireplace to help heat the house.

Daddy would get out the light strings. He was a stickler for making sure all the lights were working when they were put away last year. They never worked this year. We would replace each bulb until the offender was found and replaced, a string at a time. The big argument would what color to replace the dead one with. Sometimes you could just flick the bulb with your finger and it would magically come on. Daddy always said you woke the Gremlin up that was trapped in the bulb when we took 'em down. They waited all year to get out and into the wire again! 

Daddy would get an old wooden 6 ft ladder and we would plug each string into the next as he wound them around the tree, top to bottom.  I loved the "bubbling candle bulbs". I would beg Mama to buy one or two at Kress' 5 and 10 each year. They always burned out first. I'd add them to the middle strings and love to just stand and watch them start to bubble as they warmed up! Magic!

Decorating was never finished. There was always something new to add...old bird's nest, construction paper chains glued with flour paste at school. We also had little Styrofoam balls that you could pin sequin stars on with straight pins. That exercise was left to Sally, our artist in residence. Boring to me.

An old quilt was put under the tree, and accepted the presents as they appeared.

There were phone calls from Uncle Bob and Ethel Phlegar, Uncle Red, and Uncle John. Bird hunting in the Quail Capitol State of Georgia was a treat for them. We boys weren't invited, but it fell to us to clean birds or rabbits in the cold twilight in pans of ice cold well water. The Victorious Hunters AND the dogs languished by the fire with a drink, boots off and drying for the next days hunt. Not my favorite holiday  experience, but not one forgotten.

Uncle John and Dot would usually stay through Christmas. They had no kids then. Cousin Lynne would come in due time.

Uncle John had come to UGA under the GI Bill, and lived with us for 4 years. I think he sorta' thought of Athens as home after surviving WW2 as a co pilot in a B-24.

He met Aunt Dot at a fraternity party. Dot was from South Carolina; petite,talented and very patient. She always brought thoughtful kid presents and alway made desserts to die for. She moved effortlessly through the many storms of the Shields' Christmas fracas.

I always thought the real reason she loved coming was going shopping the day after Christmas sales with Mama to stock up for next year. She was a thrifty shopper.

Grandma Rachel, Mama's mother, usually made the rounds as she got older. She would spend time round-about with mama's siblings, her ten children, for the winter months and move back into the homeplace in Floyd, Va. for the summer. She loved to spend Christmas with us and stay the month of January. When I was 12, Grandma would let me drive her in the old Model A through the woods to Arnold's store so she could buy some groceries. She never told Mama or Daddy.

There were Christmas parties that Mama and Daddy would attend. We were left at home with me in charge. We three got along pretty well, especially at Christmas. Brother Bob was a squealer and would tell tales about his siblings transgressions to Mama next day. True or not, he'd get his pounding later.

We'd turn out all the lights except for the tree lights. We would make real hot chocolate from Hershey's Cocoa mixed with sugar and real cow's milk from our cow, Bossy. We'd pop corn in an old pan shaker over the fire, gather all the Siamese cats and Wan and sing our favorite carols. We'd  play Go Fish by firelight, read stories and be asleep by 9:30. Those were good nights. Home alone! 

Mama sang in the choir at the Presbyterian Church and we would occasionally go to the Midnight Service when we got older. It was a huge church with a 40 foot pipe organ at one end. The organ could be heard all over Athens, almost drowning out the voices of the multi church choir. We kids sat in the balcony. The candles, greenery and the organ made it look as if watching a movie. An awesome reminder of what the season was about.

Could it be better? Two weeks out of school, going to Woolworth's to pick out $1.00 present for family, driving around town to look at all the Christmas lights in the neighborhoods in the warmth of the big ole 48 Packard Clipper. 

We opened presents on Xmas morning. Daddy was very formal about it. He and Mama would get a cup of coffee. He'd light the fire, we'd fidget, he'd light his pipe, we'd fidget, THEN he'd hand out the first present...to Mama. Things went pretty fast after that. Stocking with oranges, candy etc. had to wait until after breakfast. During the day, there would be visitors just dropping by with presents or treats and often an OPPS! present Mama had "forgotten" about. 

Christmas dinner was always a free for all. The table sat about 12 and the kids tables were set up in the back bedroom. Turkey, ham, quail pie, and chicken 'n dumpling if Grandma Rachel was there.The deserts were never ending. Chocolate cake, Pecan pie, Chocolate Pecan Pie, Coconut Cake, cookies and fruits, nuts and candies. Best of all, no referees. We gorged ourselves on sugar, sugar and more SUGAR!

After the mess was cleaned up and dishes put right. Nap time would be interrupted by Mama playing piano and singing carols. The Epting family and others dropped in to sing a few with us until dark. 

Next Day was Boxing Day. The tree had to be undecorated and ceremonious taken outside...to be burned with all the years bad luck notes attached to it. That happened New Year's Day. We never kept a tree after Christmas. Mama said it was a fire hazard and it did make a mess with falling needles.

One thing I remember during the early years of living on the "farm". During the week before Christmas Mama would load us up in the old 50 chevy station wagon and we would go visit with all the families that had been hired to help us that year. Each family got a box with fruit, cookies, candies and clothes that Mama had put together especially for them. We couldn't have managed without them! 

Ed and Louise Hitchcock, Harris and Matilda, Mattie B and Earnest Scott were always there for us. They were our babysitters, maids, gardeners, wood splitters, fence builders, shrub planters; they could do anything. They could cure a cow, butcher a hog, wring a chicken's neck, cook and clean. These people, along with my relatives, were a fount of knowledge and always willing and helpful.  I learned things from them as a kid that, at the time, I could never imagine actually doing. However, I relied on every one of these experiences in my own quest for country living many years later in West Virginia. 

Those are the Christmas memories I choose to remember. Ahhh, innocent childhood.

I leave with this sad note. Cousin Lynne emailed to say that Aunt Dot died quietly on Dec 15, 2023, the very night I began to write these memories. She was 98 and was the last of the "old ones". Uncle John died a couple years ago, also at 98. He was the youngest of the ten Lancaster children and the last to pass. 

We cousins are so proud to have had them all to help guide us on our many and varied life journeys. We rejoice in our time with them all! May we all be so loved and remembered. So long as your name is spoken you will be remembered.