And the walls came tumbling down

A couple of days after this nation celebrated its annual independence, my childhood officially ended. That might sound like an odd thing for a man who approaches 56 to say, but all that I remember from my youth, all that I found happy and desirable, is being torn down.
With each punch of the wrecking ball, my memories crumble away with the brick, mortar and wood.
In my hometown of Detroit, workers have been the dismantling of venerable old Tiger Stadium – the former home to my beloved Tigers, the Lions and countless other events, such as championship prize fights. From my first visit in 1959 to a Tiger game against Baltimore, until my last game just days before I boarded a Greyhound bus for Texas in 1976, my favorite place in the whole world was at the corner of Michigan and Trumbell Avenues.
It was a wonderful place to see a game; you sat SO close you could hear whispers in the dugout and see the seams on a curveball spin towards the plate. Bleachers seats cost $1 and great seats, right next to the bullpens along each foul line, still meant just a $2 output.
Tiger Stadium meant a distinctive smell, between perfectly steamed hot dogs and kielbasa and beer and roasted peanuts; they were combined with the must and age that only can be appreciated by people who frequent old-fashioned barbecue joints in Texas. You know what I mean; where the walls ooze with the sentiment and sediment of days gone past.
And then there were the game and the stars. For the locals, it was the 1968 World Champions (and 1984 winners although I was already in Texas), following the likes of Al Kaline, Denny McLain, Mickey Lolich, Willie Horton and Norm Cash. But it was an equal thrill to have seen men like Mickey Mantle, Roger Maris, Whitey Ford, Brooks and Frank Robinson, Jim Palmer, Carl Yastrzemski, Harmon Killebrew, Rod Carew, Hoyt Wilhelm, Richie Allen, a young Nolan Ryan and an aging Ted Williams, and the swinging A’s with Reggie, Catfish and Rollie.
My last game was the breakout game for a Tiger rookie named Mark Fidrych, when more than 38,000 demanded a rare (at that time) post-game curtain call for this phenomenon. It was the birth of the “Bird” and it swept the city, and the stadium, as I rode away.
I would walk, ride a bus or commute with friends in order to sit in the bleachers any day or night. Doubleheaders were like dying and going to heaven because you got to see as much baseball as you could stand for one low, low price. In the summertime, a trip to Tiger Stadium from college, plus a late-night pancake breakfast at The Egg and I (or two dogs, some pie, a bowl of chili and a Stroh's at Lafayette Coney Island) was matchless in the minds of young men all over Michigan.
I turned sweet 16 in Tiger Stadium watching the wonderful Gates Brown beat Boston with hits in a doubleheader that lasted SO long, we missed dinner reservations and I really didn’t care. That day, I also met one of the greatest players of all time, Hammerin’ Hank Greenberg, in the most unlikely place – the men’s room behind the first base dugout. Needless to say, it was a bad place to ask for an autograph.
The Tigers’ new home is located in a part of downtown Detroit which I only remember as Grand Circus Park, filled with large movie palaces. In fact, when I left for Texas, there was no Renaissance Center, no Pontiac Silverdome, or Joe Louis Arena. One cannot possess memories of what one does not remember; I only remember baseball as it was played in a facility that opened the same year as Fenway Park in Boston.
Following the departure of the Tigers for Comerica Park in 1999, the city of Detroit tried in its ineptitude to renovate the old lady, spending $4 million, but it just kept crumbling while city leaders and other interested debated the inevitable – its closure and eventual destruction. There remains a concerted effort to save the actual diamond part of the stadium, roughly from dugout to dugout, with some 3,000 of the seats as a place to house the extensive memorabilia of former legendary broadcaster Ernie Harwell, who in his early 90s remains one of the most popular men in the Motor City.
However, it is going to require one of the dreaded “earmarks” to the tune of $15 million to save what little can be salvaged. Meanwhile, the city of Detroit has no plans, and no clue, as to what to do with the rest of the area.
In Pittsburgh, a small part of the left field wall of old Forbes Field (where Bill Mazeroski lofted his 1960 World Series winning home run against the Yankees) can be seen at the original site. In someone’s field outside of Cincinnati, many original parts and seats from old Crosley Field have been reassembled.
But to paraphrase Yogi Berra, the managerial poet laureate of baseball, “When it’s over, it’s over. When it’s gone, it’s gone.”
And my youth is gone. My sadness is profound. The last reason ever to visit Detroit has been knocked down and trashed.
So long, old friend. In my dreams, I’ll be there for a doubleheader of memories.

East versus west – xenophobia in Plano, Texas

Certain politicians mistakenly believe that ignoring certain subjects will make those difficult topics disappear. It never happens and the reluctance to address problems only makes them more difficult to resolve in the future.
To offhandedly dismiss the chasm that truly DOES exist between Planoties living east and west of U.S. Highway 75 is to wear rose-colored glasses and still be blind. Such xenophobic attitudes do not serve the community well as a whole.
Please allow me to illuminate the problem for you on just a few fronts.
The retail inequity is undeniable and cannot be excused. There are NO major commercial entertainment complexes east of Central, no major shopping centers east of Central and an absence of major retail names east of Central. The biggest name – Home Depot – has seen its business diluted when the chain opened another store at Custer and Parker – four miles away.
There is a Sam’s Club, but no Wal-Marts east of Central. There are as many major chain grocery stores within a two-mile radius of my house as exist in all of East Plano. I count EIGHT Starbucks within that same radius and just one (inside a Kroger store) east of Central. And I doubt there are people wishing to buy that brand of coffee on the east side.
In terms of retail underdevelopment, the numerous strip malls surrounding my central Plano home see far too many empty spaces – often more than 50 percent of occupancy while the “new” businesses seem to be just more of the same (cleaners, nail salons, donut-pastry shops – the Holy Trinity of strip malls).
If you have doubts about such oversaturation, drive around and take a good look; you’ll be stunned at what you find. When is enough enough? And when those spaces are finally filled, why are there an increasing number of stores in Plano that utilize the word “dollar” or the number “99 cents” in the name? Is THAT the face of retail commerce that a city with a median income of more than $88,000 wishes to express? Really cheap stuff?
I, for one, do not count the “revamping” of downtown Plano as being highly successful because it is NOT a destination center, as McKinney has developed its downtown region. In the evenings, downtown Plano is deader than a doornail.
And all those higher priced townhomes, apartments and condominiums? I cannot imagine how well they are served without support businesses (groceries, drug stores, etc.) within immediate walking distances – which don’t exist downtown.
How many major office buildings exist east of Central? East Plano is loaded with warehouses and warehouse-related businesses, as well as the only rail line slicing through Plano. During the day, traffic is brought to a complete standstill for long periods of time as slow moving locomotives weave through the community – a curse not seen in the western half.
Yet the euphoria expressed by the council and city officials over high-dollar “mixed use urban” developments is nauseating. I’m happy for what the Shops of Legacy has done for Plano, although I think much of it is just a shift in business address location rather than any tangible additions to the landscape. Anything that duplicates that might well result in more of the same – a shift of the same businesses from one spot to the latest hot locale. – sadly, closer to Frisco.
And a majority of Planoites live closer to those empty shells than will ever venture to Highway 121-Dallas Tollway area.
I can point to the lack of spectacular success of the Shops at Willow Bend. Was such an expensive enterprise really necessary (notably with the help of taxpayer dollars going toward a parking facility for a private enterprise) in light of a larger shopping magnet being built FIRST just a couple of miles up the road in Frisco?
Apparently, the verdict from shoppers was FAR less than enthusiastic. Most of the original tenants have fled, leaving behind litigation about “broken promises” concerning patron traffic. There are days when you can roll a bowling ball through the complex and hit no one.
Could no one see what was happening at Stonebriar and estimate how it would adversely impact the Willow Bend site? If the average Joe or Jane can figure it out, you’d think some hot shot in an expensive suit would have that light bulb illuminate.
Our local government (meaning the council AND planning and zoning commission) should concentrate more on filling those empty spaces.
But, alas, the local government … how unrepresentative of the actual population can one group be? Most of the people on the city council live west of Central; in fact, live west of Coit in the comfy nest that is clearly WEST Plano. They might talk a good game about making decisions for the entire community but the proof is in the pudding and the pudding leans westward.
Here’s an interesting question: How many Hispanics have been elected to the city council? Zero. Where do MOST of the Hispanics live in Plano? East of Central. Of course, no Asian representative has been anointed to serve on the council and they live all over the place.
I note the ethnic makeup of the council because minorities (African-American, Hispanic, Asian, etc.) account for a far, FAR greater percentage of the population than they have ever been given in city hall. For the record, the school district, a full one-third populated by minorities has NEVER had someone that looks like them on its board of directors … for the same political reason (at-large voting discourages and nullifies most minority representation).
But when you have NO voice in the decision making, you lose interest in your community’s betterment. At present, all political faces look the same – from the same party, same political thinking and requiring the same political financing and backing from the same old power brokers. It matters not the candidate’s background or heritage, they require the same old guard personnel to stamp their candidacy in order to get elected. The current method only reinforces that outdated system.
There have been opportunities to help bridge the east-west chasm in Plano but few “leaders” have the gonads to step up to the plate and be what they claim to be – leaders! The most obvious case, and sorriest example of expediency as a substitute for leadership, is the proposed arts hall – to be built in Allen and NOT in Plano as was the original choice (and impression) by Plano voters.
In 1999, when the concept of a performing arts center was first floated, and actually approved by local voters, it was to have been located on the city’s east side – as the cornerstone for new economic growth in a section of town in dire need of such an enhancement. But in truth, it was just another empty promise made for political purposes (and votes) in a close municipal election; those words were quickly abandoned. The original concept was totally flawed and woefully (some might say criminally) under-funded from the get-go. Yet the money sat there, like a bad meal in the pit of someone’s stomach.
Two years later, the voters nixed additional funding and the proposed move to west Plano (at Spring Creek and Ohio) as part of a massive residential-commercial venture. Now we see it farmed completely out-of-town to a possible Allen location – as far, far away from any east side dream that might have been.
And now, some foolish pipedream has been put forth to “lend” ACCC the money required to do the job on some whim that in this staggering economy the taxpayers’ money will be returned to the city coffers in a timely manner. This concept borders on true stupidity for a number of reasons – the least of which is that the ACCC hierarchy has not shown its ability to manage this project whatsoever.
The price of erecting the arts hall increases daily and when the construction project actually is initiated, the price tag will be higher than any figure presented today. Yet who will cover THAT shortfall?
I go back to this indisputable fact – the people of Plano voted for its $19 million to go to a PLANO facility (it was going to be built for the sole benefit of the Plano Symphony and anyone claiming otherwise is Pinocchio). Allen, Frisco and McKinney had NOTHING to do with it and each community had its own plans for a performing arts facility. McKinney has one up and running and Allen has one in its new library complex. Of course, Frisco has Pizza Pie Park for major concerts and a hockey arena that can hold indoor events (Allen-Fairview will soon join them in housing a large indoor entertainment arena).
Meanwhile, Alma Drive, next to my street, floods uncontrollably when it rains anything harder than a gentle sprinkle. Many, many streets experience the same thing and no one red cent should be spent on any project until every street functions as it should and it’s not as a temporary lake during storms. Any officeholder who neglects streets for pipedreams should be recalled instantly.
Sadly, many of our past and current council have paid little attention to neighborhoods, sniffing out the large developers and their “contributions” to the city (and certain campaigns). And when the citizens spoke up about potential million dollar expenditures for silliness like musical fountains, those developers took their ball, whined publicly and went home with their Christmas lighting displays (also improperly paid for by taxpayers for use on private, commercial property).
Oh yeah, that fountain? It was earmarked for west Plano.
In Texas, it is said that if something looks like a duck, walks like a duck and squawks like a duck, it is logical to assume you have a duck. The east versus west divide that exists in Plano is unquestionably a “duck.” The measure of real leadership is to convert that duck into a peacock, which will ONLY happen when real leaders emerge, not ones chosen by, propped up and controlled by a small faction within the city.
And if the current leadership find this analysis to be out of bounds, or too harsh, or whatever, then … DUCK!

One less shrine to honor

While the 2008 Major League baseball season has not produced any noticeable impressions thus far (except for a whole bunch of injuries and the usual early-season collapse of the Texas Rangers), it is still an historical year if you are a lover of the “game,” as am I. History is slowly being made as the schedule whittles down to its September conclusion when one of America’s national monuments will be retired.
After more than eight decades as a national shrine, and this country’s most recognizable (and arguably hallowed name) among all outdoor stadiums, Yankee Stadium – the House that Ruth Built – will see its final pitch. In 2009, the venerable Yankees will move across the street to a new facility, leaving behind untolled memories, not just in baseball but in other athletic endeavors, music and news (Pope Benedict just conducted a mass for 60,000 of the faithful on the same ground that had been roamed by Ruth, DiMaggio and Mantle).
Oddly, in New York, both teams will be playing out the string in their current residences, as the Metropolitans (yes, that’s’ the real name of the Mets) vacate Shea Stadium in Queens and open CitiBank Stadium next year.
While Met fans have plenty of memories of classic games in Shea, the real Americana loss is Yankee Stadium – then one place every American male ballplayer wanted to set his feet upon as a major leaguer. It is the third oldest ballpark in the country (behind Fenway Park in Boston and Wrigley Field in Chicago) and there’s just something NOT right about playing major league baseball in the Bronx and NOT have those games on the same ground that saw Don Larsen throw a perfect game in the World Series, and where Lou Gehrig and Ruth were teammates.
The Mets have already sold the naming right to their new home, CitiBank, but I hope Yankee ownership, already lords over the most valuable franchise in all of professional sports, never succumb to that pressure. I can only think of a small handful of indoor arenas where corporate logos do not adorn the building’s moniker. But in baseball, almost half (14 of 30) of the current facilities have no such tag.
And if they ever saddle Fenway Park with a name OTHER than Fenway, there just might be a riot in Boston.
Oddly enough, it is also the 50th anniversary of the move of the once beloved Brooklyn Dodgers to Los Angeles. If Barack Obama wants to define the meaning of the word “bitter,” all he has to do is visit Junior’s delicatessen in Brooklyn and ask the old-timers if they still, to this day, resent Walter O’Malley for that decision. The joke that was told at that time asked a Brooklynite what he would do if he had a gun, with two bullets, in a room with Adolf Hitler, Benito Mussolini and O’Malley. The answer would be “Shoot O’Malley twice.”
There is an historical connection between the conclusion of service for Shea Stadium and the Dodgers. O’Malley never really wanted to leave the borough of Brooklyn, but needed a new stadium to increase revenues, which he wanted to build (as a domed facility, by the way) in the heart of beloved Brooklyn.
However, one man stood in his way, Robert Moses, New York City’s planning master. Nothing got constructed without his approval and Moses didn’t give a hoot about Brooklyn. His vision was to build a stadium in Queens, on the site of the old World’s Fair (and the 1964 World’s Fair).
O’Malley would not hear of it and finally, out of frustration and declining attendance, accepted the offer from the West Coast to move his storied franchise.
In Los Angeles, the Dodgers were given the land in the area known as Chavez Ravine; so O’Malley built his ballpark. Today, as the franchise celebrates its 50-year anniversary in sunny Southern California, Dodger Stadium, thought to be the epitome of the fan-friendly, accessible ballpark, is now the fourth OLDEST facility in Major League Baseball. However, it is still a wonderful place to watch a game.
Meanwhile, Moses built his stadium, Shea Stadium, home of the Mets … in Queens. And, as stated earlier, 2008 will be ITS final year of usage as the Mets will play in their new home next season.
I cannot imagine baseball in America without games played in the facility that everyone knows as Yankee Stadium. The sport will move forward and people in New York will root for the Bronx Bombers while almost everyone in the rest of the country will root against them.
But there should be more than a few tears shed when they closer the grand old lady down.
From everywhere. It WILL be the end of an era.

11 LOST questions that need answering

After Thursday night’s LOST finale, I thought I’d pose 10 questions for all you Lostphiles and you can e-mail your responses to me.
First, I thought it concluded the best of the four seasons (Frankie Valli notwithstanding) and moved it to the top of the TV drama class.
But I got questions:
1) Why did Locke (the two alternate endings had either Sawyer or Desmond in the coffin) use the pseudonym “Jeremy Bentham”? For the record, this is what is listed in Wikipedia under that name.

Jeremy Bentham (February 15, 1748-June 6, 1832) was an English jurist, philosopher, and legal and social reformer. He was a political radical, and a leading theorist in Anglo-American philosophy of law. He is best known for his advocacy of utilitarianism, for the concept of animal rights, and his opposition to the idea of natural rights, with his oft-quoted statement that the idea of such rights is "nonsense upon stilts.” He also influenced the development of welfarism.
He became known as one of the most influential of the utilitarians, through his own work and that of his students. These included his secretary and collaborator on the utilitarian school of philosophy, James Mill; James Mill’s son, John Stuart Mill; and several political leaders including Robert Owen, who later became a founder of socialism.
He is also considered the godfather of University College London.
Bentham’s position included arguments in favor of individual and economic freedom, the separation of church and state, freedom of expression, equal rights for women, the end of slavery, the abolition of physical punishment (including that of children), the right to divorce, free trade, usury, and the decriminalization of homosexuality.

OK, you tell me what that all means…
2) What do you think Sun is up to meeting with Widmore?
3) Exactly WHAT is Kate sorry about with Aaron?
4) Exactly WHERE are Sayid and Hurley going? Gun in hand worth two in the bush?
5) Will Desmond and Penny still keep searching for the survivors in The Searcher?
6) WHAT did Sawyer whisper to Kate on the chopper?
7) Will Sawyer EVER wear a shirt again? For all you women, Jack or Sawyer??
8) Is Jin really dead? And where is Faraday going with no boat and no island?
9) Was Charlotte born on the island where no woman could deliver a child? Or could she be Halliwax’s daughter????? Or Penny’s half-sister? (everyone seems to have an extended family tree).
10) Why did the tape suddenly start rewinding? Or is Locke VCR challenged?
11) Will the Oceanic 6 ALL return? Or is someone writing a tell-all book?

I invite you to e-mail me at chuckbloom2003@yahoo.com with ideas and questions of your own.

Let’s do the time warp again

It’s astounding, time is fleeting,
Madness takes its toll.
But listen closely, not for very much longer.
I’ve got to keep control.

I remember doing the Time Warp;
Drinking those moments when
The blackness would hit me and the void would be calling;
Let’s do the time warp again ...
Let’s do the time warp again!

Rocky Horror Picture Show - 1975

So there I was, reading the Guide section of the Dallas Morning News on a Friday morning, looking to see what concerts would invade the DFW region this summer and something extraordinary dawned on me: We’ve never left the 1980s!!!
At least not when it comes to music.
Oh, sure, you’ve got your rap and hip-hop and country music that sounds an awful lot like “American Idol” too many times (in the immortal words of Marty Stuart, “And I don’t wear no hat …”).
But when it comes to rock and roll, the more things change, the more they stay the same; at least they do on stage, live in front of an audience. The map is populated by groups who are longer in the tooth than any saber tooth tiger and who haven’t seen the top 40 in years. Heck, more of their audience will consist of the parents and … grandparents of today’s youth, who listened to the radio during a time when you could actually understand the words and dance to the tunes.
As evidence I give you the names of the groups/performers coming to Dallas-Fort Worth this summer (some will already have arrived by the time you read this) – Jack Bruce (of Cream fame), Eric Burdon and the Animals, The Turtles, Badfinger, Melanie, Three Dog Night, The Beach Boys, The Police, Elvis Costello, Cyndi Lauper, B-52’s, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, Steve Miller Band, Joe Cocker, Chicago, The Doobie Brothers, Rick Springfield, The Tubes, Boston, Styx, George Michael, Foreigner, Bryan Adams, Journey, Heart, Cheap Trick, Boy George, Squeeze, Earth, Wind and Fire.

Three Dog Night, for God's sake!!!!!!!!!
Just to name a few. It sounds like the overall playlist of any classic rock station, even though there are fewer of those actually on the air because advertisers think that only tweeners, teenagers and 2-somethings comprise people with disposable cash for products.
But unless it is to see Hannah Montana or some other Disney Channel wannabe, these youngsters aren’t shelling out the big bucks to go to concert venues. If you check out the prices for a decent concert seat, “big” doesn’t begin to describe the cost. I was shocked to see that a ticket to see The Police, the biggest concert tour of 2007 (on its final legs of its tour) actually cost TWO tanks of gasoline in my Ford Explorer.
Oh, the horror!
There must be an answer to this anomaly in popular culture, and the answer is this: “rock and roll will never die” (Danny and the Juniors, 1958). At least the audience for good music by these level of performers will never go away as long as they choose to hit the stage.
My only objection comes with authenticity. Boston isn’t really Boston without lead singer Brad Delp, who passed away earlier this year. So the songs might sound similar, but it isn’t the SAME thing. Steve Perry doesn’t sing with Journey anymore so those expecting the real “Sopranos” moment when the band plays “Don’t Stop Believing” will have to imagine the real thing in their heads – not in their ears.
But when people complain about seeing The Rolling Stones in concert, about their age, I retort with MY complaint.
Where’s MY seat?
Because I know … it’s only rock and roll … but I … and many, MANY others, like it! After all, the whole world’s (on) stage.
“Time meant nothing, never would again;
Let’s do the Time Warp again!”

Let’s NOT go out to the ballgame

Last night (Monday, May 5), I officially became a grouchy old man and curmudgeon. I also became someone I thought I’d never be – a casual in-person baseball fan.
Although I consider myself to be the biggest (in theory and in size) baseball an alive, I was stuck at the Dr Pepper Ballpark in Frisco, Texas (a snobbish suburb of Dallas) to see one of the worst exhibitions of the Great Game ever in my life. It was SOOOOOOOO bad, I left after 5 innings and I’ve never left a game before it was concluded. I barely made it past the first five innings between the Class AA Frisco RoughRiders and Midland Rock Hounds. The first five innings took more than 2 1/2 HOURS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I saw slow, bad pitching (making pitching changes in the fifth inning with 8-1 leads and two outs is stupid), horrible fielding by Midland (worst than I’ve seen from a little league team and even my I-could-care-less-about baseball wife noticed the incompetence) and the most listless crowd in my life. They only came to life when the damn mascot (who had frankly worn out his rug and welcome) throw free T-shirts into the crowd or when a foul ball was hit so all these brat kids could get something for free. These brats come from $250,000 homes and all they want to something for nothing. Like their parents.
It will be my last visit there. Besides at $19 a ticket (for the good seats and $13 for the seats down the outfield lines), it is the most expensive, and overpriced, ticket in ALL of minor league baseball (typical of Rangers/RoughRiders Tom Hicks). It’s simply not worth the price of admission.
Add to that the ridiculous price of ballpark food at this joint (a $9 “special” is a limp hamburger, fries and a watered-down drink) plus $5 to park, and for a family of four, you’re looking at a cost of more than $130 (at least $100 to say the very least). And you are seeing AA crap-ass baseball. At least on the AAA level, there are former major leaguers trying to claw their way back to The Show and others on the brink of entering the big leagues.
In Texas, Corpus Christi, home of the AA Hooks, offer a better show for the cheaper price at a better ballpark (Whataburger Field), and the crowd actually CARES about the game – not the surrounding shit.
I can no longer stand to be around “tweeners” – those brats in the sixth grade age group squids, who refuse to listen to adults and think it is OK to do whatever the fuck they want in public because Mommy and Daddy think it’s fine to dump their irresponsibility on others.
When you asked these deadheads to find their own seats, instead of hovering around me, they drew the typical “Children of the Corn” visage and just stood there like they were shocked to even be questioned about their behavior. What made the situation worse was the so-called “security”/usher man who stood stiffer than a statue and allowed such bothersome behavior to continue without saying a word. If this is “family atmosphere,” I’d rather be alone.
It is the reason I will NEVER go back to Frisco’s Dr Pepper Ballpark or to movies. These suburban over-privileged brats are obnoxious and their turd head parents are to blame. They don’t know how to behave in public and I am just too fucking old to put up with it. I don’t need to; since there is more of them than me, I will choose NOT to patronize those establishment where their two-legged fire ants gather.
Our tickets, by the way, were free through a sponsoring hospital. That was how much the entire experience was worth.
Nothing.

Columns sight previously unseen

Author's Note: Since I have no clue whether anything I forward to the Dallas daily paper, as a guest columnist, ever makes it into print, or why it doesn't, this seems to be the only outlet to get them into public. Very unsatisfactory but politics seems to trump humor or common sense ot taste, here they are.
Where the streets have no (right) name
A recent “Sounding Off” question in the pages of the Dallas Morning News concerned street names, possible changes and confusion that could be avoided with a name change … or 10.
My answer was quite simple: choose one of the three names currently in use for Plano’s 15th Street (Whitsitt Parkway, 15th Street, FM 554), settle on one of them and remove the others.
Yes, it IS confusing, but no more so than scores of other places in the Dallas-Fort Worth area where you need more than a road map or Mapquest or the latest GPS tracker to find the proper route to your destination.
For example, if you live out-of-town and want to visit Dallas … and I supply you with the following directions, “Take the Julius Schepps to the Woodall Rodgers, then proceed up Stemmons to the Airport Freeway, but cut over at Walton Walker to John Carpenter,” could you do anything but get terribly lost?
As a Collin County resident, do you know the locations of either the Marvin D. Love Freeway or the Gus Alexander Freeway? (Answer: They’re both U.S. 67, south from Interstate-35).
That’s because none of those thoroughfares have signs identifying them as being named that way. Seriously, check it out; you won’t find anything designating those freeways for visitors … or even longtime residents. Yet, rush hour radio traffic reporters employ these names to tell you where the three-hour backups exist.
Oh yes, my directions were to go north on Interstate-45 South, take the I-35 connection through downtown to I-35 North to Denton until you reach Highway 183, going to Irving. Get off on Loop 12 North for just a very short bit and head north on Highway 114 … like you’re going to Grapevine.
Those are the names you understand every day. It makes more sense because it’s part of our normal language. Until Jerry Jones discovers a means to sponsor Central Expressway (I imagine someone in his office is doing just that). DART unsuccessfully tried a decade ago to sell sponsorships on the overpasses, but that’s another story …
In Plano, Greenville Avenue is called K Street and other streets have often seen name changes. In 1976, for the Bicentennial, Armstrong Parkway became Independence Parkway, and later, Carpenter Drive turned into Legacy Drive for that development. In 2001, an attempt to rename Parker Road to honor Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., was discussed at a public hearing, but was taken off the board.
Which brings us to the Texas Gulf Coast community of Lake Jackson; population 27,000, and hometown to Republican presidential candidate Dr. Ron Paul. I spent half a year in that delightful city before moving to North Texas and driving there was an adventure to say the least – purposely planned that way by the town’s architect.
Lake Jackson was constructed as a company town for the new Dow Chemical plant built in the early 1940s. The man whose vision was used was Alden B. Dow, who thought himself to be the second coming of Frank Lloyd Wright … for cities. He didn’t want an ordinary community for his employees; he wanted something special and different.
So he did three unique things when he laid out Lake Jackson. First, none of the streets are straight; there are curves at least every quarter mile and everything winds and bends their way through the town. This helped preserve as many trees as possible and Dow wanted to give people a sense of adventure (“not know what was ahead for them”) as they traveled through.
Second, all the original street names are based on something that grows – plant, fauna, tree and flora. Hence, it is not unusual to find addresses with the names Sycamore, Acacia, Nasturtium, Hybiscus or Ligustrum. Giving directions could be quite a mouthful.
Finally, the “downtown” area was totally unique. It is shaped like a pinwheel or the spokes of a bicycle wheel and they all possess the word “way” in them. Circle Way encircled that part of Lake Jackson, West Way travels (naturally) westward, Parking Way leads to a major parking lot and Winding Way does what the name implies – it winds. Center Way cuts the city in half. A church is located on “His Way” and you might wind up on “Any Way” ... anyway you turn.
There is literally, and figuratively, a “This Way” and “That Way.” When I was there, it would drive people batty when you answered the question, “Which way did I go?” with the response, “The corner of This Way and That Way.”
They thought I was either a fool or a liar.
Or that I lived in Dallas.
------
In defense of Allen, Texas
As a resident of Plano, I have no horse in the May 10 Allen (Texas) mayoral race between incumbent Steve Terrell and challenger Mark Pacheco. But as a former employee who spent more than two years working in the city of Allen, I take some offense with some of the language used in Sunday’s endorsement editorial (in the Dallas Morning News) about the community.
First, Allen does not suffer as “image-deficient” – a terrible choice of words to say the least. If you ask people outside of Texas, or outside of North Texas, what imagine is conjured by the words, “Plano, Texas,” few are seen as positive. Terms like “snobbish” are often employed and images of children dying from heroin overdoses (rightfully accurate or not) are first to be brought forward.
The discussion of how to bring DART’s light rail service to Allen did not begin yesterday. It has been subject to ongoing community and council debate for more 10 years. It was a regular part of council agendas when I was covering those meetings at the turn of the decade.
However, it was always the insistence of DART of retroactive tax payments for Allen’s non-inclusion that kept the city from even considering transferring one of its sales tax options from community use to DART. Besides, the will of the citizenry was that sales tax fund usage remain within the city of Allen and produce exactly what it was originally meant to do – enhance community developments such as one of the best new library-community center facilities in North Texas and a parks system second to none in Collin County.
While we can debate the quality of “transit-oriented development” along DART’s Red Line, Allen is NOT without its retail and commercial growth. The Allen Premium Outlets is one of the best retail attractions in Collin County, having tripled its size and number stores since opening in 2001. A new retail megacenter (Village at Allen) is in the construction process across U.S. 75, which will also house a sports complex and arena.
This newspaper recently did a major business section story about Watters Creek at Montgomery Farm, a major urban mixed-use development, which will sport many retail names (Cheesecake Factory, Borders, Banana Republic, Sephora, Chico’s, Ann Taylor Loft, Eddie Bauer) not seen a few miles to the north in “spiffy” McKinney. In fact, this new Borders will be the only major retail frontline book store located on U.S. 75 between the Collin-Grayson border and south Plano.
A closer examination of Allen also reveals several major corporate employers, including Sage Telecommuni­ca­tions, Experian, Color Dynamics, Sanmina SCI, Celerity and Photronics. HIT Entertainment, located on Greenville Avenue, in the heart of Allen, is the original home to children television’s characters, Barney and Wishbone. These businesses might not have the pizz-zazz of EDS or Frito-Lay, but they form a strong backbone for the Allen community in terms of employment and tax base. They ARE major “high-end” employers and they are already located in Allen.
Just because Allen is not the size population size as its neighbors does not mean its growth is less dramatic. In 1990, the population sat at 19,000; increased a whopping 122.6 percent in that decade and then another 68.2 percent to 2006’s estimate of 73,248. The estimated median household income in 2005 stood at $82,001 (up from $78,924 in 2000) and the estimated median home value in 2005 was $177,300 (up from $142,400 in 2000). It is obvious even higher in 2008.
Almost half the city’s population above age 25 holds college degrees and 85 percent of those who live in Allen do so in what can be called traditional family households (two married spouses with children).
This has been due, in most part, to the steady, conservative, controlled growth and strong adherence to the city’s master plan, overseen by one of the best city managers in this state, Peter Vargas. His hiring from the city of Laredo in the early 1990s can be directly linked to Allen’s growth and maintenance as a fine place for families to live, work and shop.
Allen has never wanted the runaway expansion of a Frisco nor has it possessed the boundary capacity for growth of either Plano or McKinney. It has chosen its developments carefully, and, in my eyes as an outside observer, wisely. It has always been a wonderful place to work and visit.
Who ends up becoming mayor makes no difference to me. However, Allen, Texas is not second-stringer as a community – socially, economically or culturally. It deserves far more respect than to be seen as standing in any other city’s “shadow.”

Home (bitter)sweet home, in Plano

Living in one of Dallas’ ultimate examples of white, upper-middle class suburban communities, I get to stockpile my rantings and ravings for just the right occasion and, folks, this is it! The good folks that run the city of Plano, Texas, (population 250,000 for those initiated out-of-staters who might read this) just seem to do things that make ME shake my head in amazement. They can act so fucking WHITE-bread some times, it is disgusting.
So we have three topics to gnaw upon, like a rabid dog, or you can select the appropriate metaphor. I am using the word “bitter” in my headline because, apparently, in some places, people go stark raving insane over usage of a word that seems awfully appropriate.

Silence is NOT golden
FIRST, less than a week ago (April 10), this area (and entire North Texas region) was belted by a strong line of thunderstorms that produced several damaging tornadoes – reportedly eight in all. One of those hit the city of Allen, Texas, which borders Plano to the northeast, here in lovely Collin County. In Allen, a reportedly 50 homes were damaged and it scared the shit out of people – as such things would and should.
The same storm caused less than severe damage in Plano, but winds and rain and hail still wreaked havoc with roofs, trees (many of which fell) and business signs (many of which were snapped at the base like balsa wood).
The storm struck around 4 a.m. when most people were in their beds – with the lights, radios and TVs clicked to the “off” mode. They had NO clue until thunder, lightning and the force of the storm bounced them out of bed and into closets or bathrooms to hide.
Early warning air sirens sounded in Allen and in Addison (to the south of Plano along the Dallas North Tollway) and in Richardson, directly south of the George Bush Tollway (they name things that gouge money from motorists after Republicans around here).
But NOT in Plano. Those sirens sat silent, despite the fact that the SAME storm that dropped the tornado on Allen HAD to go through Plano.
According to Assistant City Manager Bruce Glasscock, a former police chief, “officials believed conditions didn’t warrant it,” as reported in the Dallas Morning News.
“The main purpose of the siren system, he added, is to warn people who are outside to take cover. Because the storm took place so early in the morning, officials decided the sirens would have provided little warning.”
Come again?!? Hey, Chief Glasscock, a little warning is far better than NO god-damn warning! Besides, a tornado WARNING had been issued by the National Weather Service for that part of Collin County and that fact, alone, should have been reason enough to have activated the siren system.
Because something is better than nothing. What arrogance!
One year before, our block in Plano got hit by another strong storm, not with a tornado, but with strong straight line wind, clocked at over 100 mph. Trees on our side of the street were split like a giant ax had been sued. Across the street? Nada, zip, zilch, no damage at all. And there was also NO sirens sounded about such potential danger.
But you can hear that lovely siren sounds on the first Wednesday of each month when at noon, they are tested, waking every sleeping dog in neighborhoods across Plano in order to howl at the wail. They work then, but not when danger approaches. Makes sense, right?
Fire departments recommend that every home possess a weather radio, which is fine and dandy and help improve the sales picture for places like Radio Shack. But sirens are also needed; believe me, having gone through such a storm in 1994, where tornadoes struck the southern Dallas County cities of DeSoto and Lancaster, where three people died and more than 600 homes were destroyed (not just damaged but completely demolished beyond repair).
The siren system did not function properly (because of age) and the FIRST thing that was replaced (after the cities’ communication systems which were destroyed by the twisters that fateful April night) was the early warning siren systems.
BECAUSE … while they weren’t all encompassing, they were still needed as part of a warning system when danger approached.
I say (no, I KNOW) when in doubt, sound them sirens OUT! Better safe than sorry. And every city officials knows better than that, including former police chiefs. Shame on them!

Homeless and the heartless
SECOND, the Plano city council unanimously passed an ordinance last night that prohibited people from parking from the hours of 11 p.m.-5 a.m. in its library parking lots.
The issue arose after it was discovered that no ordinance existed to rid Haggard Library of its unwanted guest, a homeless man who lived in his van and, frankly, didn’t disturb a sole except the nervous Nellies who sees ghosts at every turn and who think all black people pose possible threats.
The ordinance was passed under the cloak known as a “consent agenda,” where one vote passed a whole host of issues, without discussion by definition. You just “consent” to everything there.
But word got out in advance, since, dammit, those pesky agenda must be made public. What rotten luck for the council having to follow the law. Otherwise, just like almost every other council or school board, it would rather do its business away from the public, where life would be safer.
Just when you need to better your image as an uncaring community who firmly believes that homeless people ONLY exist on the streets of Dallas, this story comes along, making the officials in Plano look like uncaring schmucks. Simply get rid of the man and all the problems will be solved, right? Out of sight is out of mind and they certainly don’t mind if he is out of their sight.
Sadly, it solves nothing; it only shuffles the problem to someone, and somewhere, else.
So I had a series of questions I would have asked if anyone was willing to listen (they weren’t):
1) Why pass an ordinance NOW when it wasn’t a problem before until some guy who didn’t live by "normal" rules showed up? If it was a problem before, why wasn’t anything done before? It is obviously retaliatory and that is the WORST reason to pass any ordinance.
And why wasn’t there any public discussion? Why do it in such a stealth-like manner? That’s what clever city operators do through its consent agenda when they want to hide things, and don’t want to hear from the electorate it allegedly was chosen to “represent.” What a lark!
2) Why couldn’t someone in the city have contacted the Samaritan Inn, the county’s ONLY homeless shelter in McKinney, BEFORE making it a “federal” crime to park overnight in a library parking lot?
Well, it seems that some genius called … (wait for it) … the United Way, stupidly thinking it was a relief agency instead of a financial distribution agency for charities. Someone also called the Assistance Center of Collin County, but NO ONE called the homeless shelter up the road. Why in the hell NOT?
It’s not like the Samaritan Inn is a secret society of sorts. It just held a well-publicized ribbon cutting for a new transitional housing project, Gateway Apartments, are had three of the four TV stations broadcasting stories in a two-weeks’ time plus numerous articles about Gateway in the Dallas Morning News.
I should know; I helped coordinate all that publicity. Yet no one in the city of Plano or its library system had a fucking clue.
Unless what is joked about is actually true – Plano people simply don’t think that the homeless exist AT ALL in the city (they do and the folks who run the Samaritan Inn can readily testify to that indisputable fact!). And with the economy growing worse, and many people, hiding in the shadows, on the brink of losing homes to foreclosure, etc., it will be a GROWING problem before things get better.
Just not in Plano, I guess. But now it has a law!
3) What does this say about the city government’s amount of compassion? (Very little, in my mind). They seem more worried about spending taxpayer money for arts centers not yet built or giving money for fountains never created. Hell, the issue of protecting homeowners from flying golf balls when those people built homes NEXT TO FUCKING GOLF COURSES commands more attention than helping people.
And a moment to digress about that little topic: The course, in question, is Chase Oaks Golf Club, located near the Legacy Cinemark Theater complex. In a Morning News story, it said Chase Oaks is “operated” by the city of Allen, but Allen actually owns the course, since 2005 (which is odd in itself to have a course surrounded by one city to be owned by another). Since Plano has NO financial stake in Chase Oaks, it has little to gain by seeking a proper resolution.
Oddly, the reporter did not quote or question anyone from the Allen Parks and Recreation Department. After all, it’s THEIR course and they could ask Plano for a solution – you know, as a good neighbor would and should.
When Tiger Woods’ personal swing coach, Hank Haney, ran his own golf place-driving range, literally ON Central Expressway in the center of Dallas, it had huge nets to guard against flying golf balls onto the freeway.
Did Dallas consider those to be fences? Did anyone ask? I would have thought the question would have crossed someone’s mind, but it escaped that reporter, who did less than due diligence in his reporting.
Yet flying golf balls, the height of nets and designating them as FENCES was the talk of the town. Must be SO little to discuss these days.
4) Why shuffle this problem of a homeless man to someone else? Will any ordinance apply to business parking lots or church lots? And speaking of which, where WERE/ARE the countless churches in Plano stepping forward to help this person, or anyone else like him? Why not offer THEIR lots for an overnight stay if he isn’t harming anyone?
Shame on everyone for caring SO little. Besides, if someone WANTS to live in a van, who should stop him or her? I just saw a DVD movie, “a superb rendition of “Into the Wild,” about a young man who chucked all his luxuries and possessions in order to spend his life as he saw fit – living off the land and going to Alaska.
It ends tragically, but he lived as he wished and claimed he had no regrets at the end.
I highly recommend the movie and wonder why it was ignored as a Best Picture nominee.

The right NOT to vote
FINALLY, Plano’s municipal and school board elections approach on May 10 and I will voluntarily sit this vote out. I have better things to do than try to decide among the same cookie-cutter Republican wannabes who want to rule this suburban fiefdom.
None of them reflect my values of what I want for Plano. I’ve outlined two of many disagreements I have with the current city operation and it won’t change. When you rename buildings after the current city administrator, it “show to goes ya” just how entrenched the status quo is in Plano.
The school district is just as worse. The salaries paid to its administrators (more than a quarter of a million bucks for the superintendent while single teachers don’t make enough to live within the district because of the high housing prices in a region known for inexpensive housing compared to the rest of the nation) is absurd. And the butt kissing to these poo-bahs is just as stupid.
So regardless of the candidates involved, I find that little will change.
One of the biggest problems is that SO much of the PISD population goes unrepresented because the system will never allow for a Hispanic, Asian or African-American to get elected. That represents a full 40 percent of the student population. When will these people have a voice and a face to serve their needs?
I got an e-mail from a candidate who is half-Hispanic despite an Anglo surname and while his efforts are commendable, a snowball in Laredo in July has a better chance of succeeding, given the Plano demographics.
Sadly, he likes to quote Lord Acton and other high-minded writers, but it won’t impress Plano voters. Quoting Lord Wedgwood DOES (it’s SUCH a material-based community).
It isn’t just the wealthy white folks that defines Plano’ it’s people of Indian, Korean, Vietnamese, as well as Pakistani, Arabic and other Middle Eastern heritages – ALL without representation (now and in the past). The Plano ISD board only wants the status quo – notably in its makeup.
This candidate’s website stresses his platform for increased elementary level emphasis on reading and math – both highly laudable. While reading and math are essential to education and need to be taught early and often, OTHER areas need attention. Writing skills are horrid among ALL Texas students; the inability to spell is a tragedy. The reliance on the computer and not on the brain is our eventual downfall.
And this all-consuming involvement with one standardized test is ridiculous. In Texas, and all across the U.S., we need to stop teaching to any particular test. Teach what children need to learn and become productive adults and THEN test based on that! It was how I was educated, as well as everyone of my generation, and all WE accomplished was overseeing the greatest growth in our nation’s history – economically and scientifically. Worked then; would work now.
When someone openly advocates THAT position, then I will vote. Until then, I’ve got better things to do … like sleep.

Greatest sports movies ever made

With the release and success of George Clooney’s “Leatherheads,” about the early days of pro football, I revived my list of the best sports movies, arranged by individual sports. It’s not a top 10 list, although it would be simple to glean such a collection.
Some sports lend themselves easily to drama or comedy (boxing, baseball, horse racing) and others have yet to witness a cinematic effort worthy of their sport (gymnastics, tennis, figure skating).
So here is my best (and favorites) per areas of endeavour:
Auto racing – Strangely, not many superior movies here, except for John Frankenheimer’s “Grand Prix (1966) with James Garner. The best drag racing movie was the Oscar-nominated Shirley Muldowney biopic “Heart Like a Wheel”(1983), the best Indy car flick was Paul Newman’s “Winning” (1969), and the best stock car movie (not “Ricky Bobby,” folks) is either Richard Pryor’s “Greased Lightning” (1977) and the first black champion, Wendell Scott, or “Last American Hero” (1973) with Jeff Bridges.
Baseball – This lineup is loaded, from “Pride of the Yankees” (1942) to “Field of Dreams” (1989) to “Bull Durham” (1988) to “The Natural” (1984) to “The Bad News Bears” (1976, original with Walter Matthau). Because “Field of Dreams” reached me on a personal level (about father-son relationships), it gets my vote.
Basketball – Once you go past “Hoosiers” (1986), you need not go anywhere else, or see anything else. This film is in the argument for best sports movie ever made.
Billiards/pool – “The Hustler” (1961) – the original character of Fast Eddie Felson, as portrayed by Paul Newman, is, perhaps, his greatest role.
Bobsledding – “Cool Runnings” (1993) – The story, based on the true events of the Jamaican bobsled team, in the 1988 Calgary Olympics that caught the world’s imagination.
Bowling – “Kingpin” (1996) – Any movie with Bill Murray swearing a ridiculous toupee and bowling with a ball containing fish is classic.
Boxing – Among the best MOVIES ever made involve boxing, including Martin Scorsese’s “Raging Bull” (1980), Sylvester Stallone’s “Rocky” (1976) and Clint Eastwood’s “Million Dollar Baby” (2004). Not just as sports movies, but as movies, period.
Chess – “In Search of Bobby Fischer” (1993) – A small film that caught the soul of the most mental of games.
Curling – “Men with Brooms” (2002) – Yes, Virginia, they’ve made a movie about curling; a small Canadian movie … but aren’t all Canadian movies small?
Cycling – “Breaking Away” (1979) – Nominated for Best Picture, this is on most critics’ top 10 sports movies of all-time’ Dennis Quaid at his earliest. Also up there is “American Flyers” with a young Kevin Costner.
Dog Shows – “Best in Show” (2000) – So bitingly funny, it hurts.
Football – Since “Brian’s Song” (1971) was actually a made-for-TV movie, it shouldn’t (technically) count, and “Horse Feathers” (1932) was as much about football as the Marx Brothers would allow (not much), “The Longest Yard” (1974 original) is probably the best.
Gymnastics – The problem with this sport is that the two “best” movies – “American Anthem” (1986) and “Stick It” (2006) look nothing like actual gymnastic competitions.
Golf – “Caddyshack” (1980) – The funniest sports movie ever made and one of the funniest films EVER! Perhaps the most quotable films ever produced … if you’re a guy.
Hockey – “Slap Shot” (1977) – The greatest movie about professional hockey, with Newman (again), and listed on everyone’s all-time top 10 sports movies list. The best amateur hockey movie is “Miracle” (2004) about the 1980 U.S. Olympic hockey team that beat the Soviet Union.
Horse racing – “Seabiscuit” (2003) and “National Velvet” (1944) excellently represent a sport that has deep roots in filmdom. My favorite is the little-known “Let It Ride” (1978), with Richard Dreyfuss as the epitome of the horse gambler.
Martial arts – “The Karate Kid” (198?) – Oscar nominated as best picture from the director who directed “Rocky.” And please, don’t say “Enter the Dragon” was better.
Poker – “The Cincinnati Kid” (1965) – Steve McQueen in a five-card showdown with Edward G. Robinson. Enough said!
Roller Derby – “Kansas City Bomber” (1972) – Raquel Welch on wheels!
Rugby – “This Sporting Life” (1963) – Richard Harris introduced to audiences.
Sailing – A lack of good movies in this area, given the length of America’s Cup competition so the winner is “Wind” (1992) with Matthew Modine.
Soccer – “Bend It Like Beckham” (2000) – One of the surprise sleeper hits of the 21st century and a film that did more to introduce Beckham to U.S. audiences than the L.A. Galaxy.
Skating – Too much like gymnastics movies, when “The Cutting Edge” (1992) is thought to be the best of its genre and it has nothing to do with real skating competition.
Skiing – “Downhill Racer” (1960) – Robert Redford as an egotistical Olympic hopeful.
Swimming – “Pride” (2007) – A true story about a coach starting an inner-city program in Philadelphia.
Tennis – Poor representation for this sport. Little to choose from for, by walkover, “Wimbledon” (2004) wins.
Track and field – “Chariots of Fire” (1981) – Winner of Best Picture; with one of the most unforgettable musical themes ever heard.
Wrestling – “Vision Quest” (1985) – Starring Modine and Linda Fiorentino, about a high school wrestler’s quest to defeat a particular opponent, the movie features a classic soundtrack (Madonna, Journey). For pro wrestling, would you believe The Fonz (Henry Winkler) in “The One and Only” (1978)?
I’m sure you can find others, but this is my list. I couldn’t find a place for Rol­ler­ball” (1975) because it’s not really a sport ... yet (FOX hasn’t figured out how to get it on TV). Let’s hear from you.

... and on the 8th day, God made golf

Author's Note: The following column was published in the March 6 edition of the Dallas Morning News Collin County Opinion pages.
It is written that, in the beginning, God created Heaven and earth. On the seventh day, He rested. A few weekends later, He displayed his incredible sense of humor and in­vented … golf.
That is the only explanation. Otherwise the game makes no sense.
After all, the concept defies explanation. Hit a little white ball, go find it hundreds of yards away, lying somewhere between trees and tall hay. When you find it, you hit it again ... and again ... and again ... until it falls into a hole no wider than a coffee cup.
And when that happens, pick up the little white sphere, march to the next tee, and proceed to repeat the en­tire process. For 17 more holes.
Under a blistering sun. Dying of thirst. Shaking like a leaf. Dog tired. Ready to col­lapse.
Or until you run out of those little white things. Whichever comes first.
It isn’t blasphemous to believe that God can be funny. The human race was made in His image, and we laugh our heads off all the time. Hence, God must possess a crackling wit and a wicked sense of humor.
Otherwise how do you explain a platypus? (Is it a beaver or a duck?) Or penguins (funny looking birds with feathers that can’t fly). Or the AMC Pacer? Or the Texas (baseball) Rangers? Or Sunjaya’s hair?
Lord only knows ... so to speak.
Obviously, God looked down at Adam, bounding around the Garden of Eden in his Ralph Lauren Polo fig leaf, representing Mankind, and He wasn’t happy.
God must have thought, “Adam looks too content, too comfortable, too at ease. I’ll invent something that will drive him crazy, keep him totally frustrated, perplexed, unnerved and exasperated.
“There’s already a woman in his life, so I guess I’ll just add golf.”
And that is how it happened. I read it in the Gospel According to (Ben) Hogan.
Soon, Adam reacted much like the rest of us to this newly-formed recreational activity. He left the Garden early in the morning with his clubs for the course, with Eve wondering when, or if, she would get him to cut the grass or do his chores around the hut.
Eventually Adam became obsessed with such terms as “cavity back,” “bermuda grass,” “draw,” “fade,” “you da man,” and “that dog will hunt.” When Adam would shout about “snaking” in a putt, Eve might have taken that a little too much to heart.
One day, Adam had enough of the game and tossed his clubs into the River Styx. He swore never to play the sport again ... unless God invented some Big Berthas that Adam could afford.
When Adam looked toward the heavens and questioned his Master, a sudden bolt of lightning cut through the sky. God had heard enough and ended the conversation abruptly.
“Be lucky I haven’t thought of bowling yet.”
Adam immediately looked for an apple to bite.
And we’ve had the “sport” of golf ever since.
Chuck Bloom, who was once called “Moses” by a caddy because he spent SO much time in sandtraps, is a former Texas columnist-edito-newspaper publisher.

Nurses are God’s angels on earth

Author's Note: This is the unabridged version of the column published in the Sunday, March 16, 2008 edition of the Dallas Morning News Collin County Opinion page. The author suffered a heart attack March 3 and was hospitalized until March 8. He is now home recovering and rehabilitating his eating and exercise habits.
It took another serious medical episode for me to remember several vital facts of life.
First, a hospital is really no place for anyone to get well.
Second, nurses are God’s angels here on earth.
I survived a recent stay at Medical Center of Plano because I had a group of special people watching over me. More than the doctors who performed the various exploratory procedures (and helped stabilized me when I arrived in the emergency room), a patient is totally dependent on the shift nurses to maintain some sense of contact with the real world. Without them, you’re lost, often scared, confused … and completely alone.
I’ve visited hospitals far too frequently in the last decade or so, but before that, I’d never been hospitalized for anything more than removal of my tonsils (for which I hold no memory). So to most people, everything that happens, from the IV in your arm to the incisions you receive to the constant monitoring of vital signs, is brand new.
And, more often than not, it’s a frightening experience, especially when you have no idea of what the future holds. In my situation, that fear was eliminated by those “angels” – always there, no matter the time of night or how petty the request might have seemed to the non-patient. They were there to hold a hand if needed, to share a newspaper when sought, to talk a little politics when the sound of your own voice became unbearable and to explain what was often unexplainable in terms that the normal person can grasp.
I learned more about my procedure, options and the multitude of medications from the nurses than from my doctors (who were wonderful as well, but just not as omnipresent as the nurses). It wasn’t the technical knowledge that these men and women shared; it stemmed from their experiences with other patients, or in some cases, having gone through the same thing.
If I may, a word of praise for a moment of this particular facility – Medical Center of Plano – one of the possible “hidden” gems within the Collin County scene.
In this season of wide-ranging political debate, it needs to be stated that Americans do NOT have a health care providing problem; we have access to the finest institutions, best equipment and best-trained personnel in the world. We have a health care coverage/payment problem between the low-balling insurance companies and those within the business who must offset ever-increasing costs. The consumer/patient is caught in the middle of this tug of war and usually feels pulled in multiple directions.
But not here – at least not as the public face to its patients. MCP is one of THE best facilities I’ve seen from the inside. Everyone’s direct charge seems to be providing the best treatment and experience with a positive attitude; and trust me, with someone like yours truly, it can be tested to the hilt. MCP passed with flying colors because no one seemed to be able to say “no.”
At this hospital, little things matter. The food can honestly be judged against any restaurant in the area. When was the last time you heard of a hospital menu that provided fresh grilled asparagus or very tasty sugar-free cheesecake? “Rock-a-Bye and Good Night” is played softly over the hospital intercom when a child is brought into the world in the maternity ward. Patient advocates visit to specifically inquire about individual needs and patients can be discharged and take home a CD of their tests and documentation for future referrals.
In the catherization lab, support personnel asked me what music should play in the background, and from their library, I chose Dire Straits’ classic “Brother in Arms,” because I thought “Walk of Life” set the right tone … and I wanted to hum “I want my MTV” to distract me from my pain.
Even the gracious and accommodating dietician successfully determined the carb count (suddenly one of MY vital numbers to know) of matzo balls – one of my all-time favorite foods. While it might have been the most unusual request she’s received, she completed the assignment with total professionalism and humor (another indispensable item to one’s recovery).
It’s hard to imagine any major hospital functioning with any degree of proficiency without its well-trained, professional nurses. They have to wear simultaneously several gowns (medical service deliverer, maid, friend, confidant) and probably don’t earn nearly enough financial compensation for their troubles. I know they seldom earn the public’s highest respect; so it’s fallen to me to deliver such praise.
So this tribute goes to the doctors and nurses in the ER and on the seventh floor of Medical Center of Plano – Drs. Neeta Bavikati and Samaha Syed; ER personnel Dr. Jeff Shaffer, RNs Carolyn Sanders, Jackie Jirsa, Candice Stroh; floor RNs Fernando Cruz, Janet Trowbridge, Chandrika Solanki, Diane Finch, Abhini Joseph, Arlyna Lange, Blessing Ukaji, Morag Robson; nursing student Cathy Skarsten; and techs Happiness Robinson, Addie Robinson, Okama Bassey and Vicki Cuthbert.
They are to “blame” for getting me back to this keyboard and to my home, feistier than ever.
I’ll just call them as “Charlie’s Angels” if you don’t mind, and I will remember them for the rest of my (hopefully extended) life. :-)

Stop worshiping money more than life

Perhaps Michelle Obama is really on the mark. We haven't done much lately in this nation to make people proud.
Perfect example: In Saturday's Dallas Morning News, there was a page 4A article about the indictment of Republican congressman Rick Renzi of Arizona (oh yeah, a CLOSE advisor to one John McCain) for extortion and fraud involving a land deal A supplement box listing other bad boys in Washington (Jim Traficant, Larry Craig, Tom DeLay, Duke Cunningham, etc.) charged and convicted congressmen points out a harrowing fact.
If anyone needs to know what is wrong with our society and the people who choose to lead our government. Those convicted for stealing money, one way or the other, through fraud, bribery, extortion, etc., were given fairly harsh prison sentences. Cunningham got 8 1/2 years, Traficant got eight years and good ol' Bob Ney got 2 1/2 years.
But the man, William Janklow of South Dakota, who actually killed someone (while drunk and speeding), convicted of vehicular homicide, was sentenced to a whopping 100 days in prison. That is total bullshit!
When, oh when, will our society stop placing, and worshiping, money above the worth of another human being's life? When did theft become a more henious crime than killing someone?
Comedian-activist Dick Gregory used an analogy during his student assembly concert days inthe 1970s (when he was true greatness). He said that if a man broke into a woman's house, robbed her of $100 and then killed her, he would be branded a monster.
"Why did he kill her for $100?" people would scream.
But if he robbed her of $1 million out of her safe and killed her anyway, the reaction, Gregory claimed, would be different.
"What was she doing with that kind of money alying around?" they would posture. "She was asking for it."
But the woman would be just as dead. Except the money was different.
When those scales are tipped in favor of humanity, only THEN will our nation and society TRULY become great.

Gentlemen: the two most important words …

This short piece is for all you brides-to-be; you need to cut this out and hand-deliver it to your prospective grooms. Make him/them read it, memorize it and recite it later ... and often.
Gentlemen, the two most important words you need to know about your upcoming nuptials are NOT “I do!”
They are “Yes, honey!”
Repeat them. “Yes, honey!”
You will be saying that phrase far more often than you know and it will be the correct thing to utter each and every time. You need to understand, in advance, that you will be agreeing to almost everything your woman wants on her special day because … it’s HER day – not yours.
As a father and a married man (twice actually), a wedding is for, and about, and produced, by the bride. It’s her day to shine and you merely need to see her in all the radiance possible. On that day, it will be as good as it can be (with the possible exception of the birth of your first child together).
Your job, despite what any wedding planner tells you, is 1) show up on time; 2) be respectful to what’s hap­pen­ing; 3) please be sober; 4) make sure your buddies are sober; and 5) make sure you have the ring and license! Afterwards, make sure you’ve got everything packed for the honeymoon, all documents secured (tickets, traveler’s checks and passports) and the gas tank is filled.
Don’t worry about the cake (unless you’re allergic), the seating arrangements (unless you’re a Hatfield and she’s a McCoy), the flower arrangements (unless you’re in the business) or the color of the bridesmaid dresses (unless you designed them). And stay clear of the future mother-in-law because she’s usually on a mission and you’ll get run over like Earl Campbell used to knock over defensive backs for the Houston Oilers.
The best idea you can “insist” upon is the hiring of a professional wedding photographer. Letting “Uncle Bob” take the pictures is an instant recipe for disaster and your bride will cry for the rest of her life, and yours, if her wedding photos are lacking or horrid … or missing. While saving money at every possible turn is preferable, this is where the budget needs to allow for leeway.
Because … you know about that “’til death do us part” part? Knowing that you could have prevented a wrong-footed start to a lifetime together tends to avoid that slippery “part.”
Gentlemen, also a few good suggestions for your pre-wedding behavior. If you feel the urge and need to have a rollicking bachelor party, do it at least 2-3 days BEFORE the wedding. That way there will be plenty of time to … recover. And don’t strive to do embarrassing, wild activities that you will regret when they are later seen on YouTube. Again, that dastardly “part” part tends to rear its head.
As a father and groom, I cannot emphasize the need to conserve money. Trust me, you’ll need it when you begin the marriage and start living together under one roof. Even if you each bring your belonging to merge as one household, there will be plenty missing and, to quote the great philosopher Chico Marx, “That runs into money.” I guess I’m kind of frugal but you can produce a life-long memory without busting the bank account.
But if she wants something bad enough, men, you must go back to those two words, “Yes, honey!” in order to survive. You will soon realize your life will dwindle into two word conversations. Your parts will be:
“How come?”
“How much?”
“Say what?”
“And because?”
“Yes, honey!”

When reading isn't fun - dyslexia major problem NOT properly diagnosed at the right time

Author's Note: The following column appears in today's edition (Sunday, Feb. 3, 2008) of the Collin County Opinion Pages of the Dallas Morning News.

My daughter, Lisa, is a terrible speller. She admits to it and, as a professional editor, I know it as well. And, yes, it drives me up a wall akin to the child of an Olympic swimmer being afraid of water. You would hope one's natural talent would be something of a family inheritance.
Having disclosed that, I must say that it is not her fault. She suffers from dyslexia, a learning disability that makes it very difficult to properly learn to read and spell.
It doesn't mean the student lacks intelligence; in fact, far from it. Many dyslexics are highly intelligent and highly gifted. It means a person's brain merely processes written and/or verbal language differently than the normal individual. It is a neurological problem. The brain simply cannot correctly digest some letters as seen through the eye.
All too often this goes undetected in the place where it matters most – the classroom. A simple eye test administered in most elementary schools won't send up the needed red flag to either teachers or parents. As a result, affected students fail to acquire the help needed to combat the problem and overcome the difficulty. "Just try harder" is not the proper answer.
Dyslexia affects anywhere from 5 to 9 percent of all school children, but some studies increase the numbers to as much as 17 percent. Even more astonishing is that only 20 percent of adults who suffer from early childhood reading problems learn fluent reading skills; that's 1 in 5, folks.
Since it involves words, it requires more time and practice for those with dyslexia to master the skill of reading. For example, if a child needs 30 to 60 hours to learn to read, a dyslexic child needs 80 to 100 hours. It is even more important because of the inability to correctly associate what he or she sees with what is heard, a process which is called "phonics." Phonics is a common method to teach children to read.
Dyslexics can compensate for their disability with the proper therapy, training and technological help. Dyslexic students are legally entitled to extra time during tests (which also applies to such tests as the SAT and ACT college boards). However, it doesn't always happen that way.
Lisa had a high school AP English teacher who refused to cooperate; but my daughter, not wanting to seem "privileged," did not fight hard enough for her rights because no one within the school administration informed her of all those rights.
There are some charitable organizations, such as the Scottish Rite Foundation locally, which test for dyslexia and make training classes and materials available, often at no cost, for teachers and students. But the problem must be diagnosed at the starting point – our elementary schools.
It isn't too much of a stretch to state that dyslexia receives inadequate support in American public schools. There have been several legal cases in this nation, plus Canada, England and New Zealand, brought by parents against public education, for failing to provide enough support for children with learning disabilities. I, for one, don't want this played out in the court, but solved in the classroom.
In order for a student to be properly treated and assisted for dyslexia, it must be diagnosed at an early age. While young American schoolchildren are given eye examinations to detect vision too poor to read blackboards or even books, nothing is done to see if they are neurologically impaired in that process – if what they see is correct.
The "full monty" of tests to fully reveal dyslexia in a child is not possible for each and every U.S. student. But some sort of early detection exam can (and should, by law) be administered. Once they are warned of a possible problem, the responsibility will then rest with parents and teachers.
Dyslexia crosses all racial, ethnic and social lines and, without proper help and detection, it places our children at risk and harm that is preventable.
It's probably too late to really help Lisa. But it isn't too late to help many others.

Early Texan of the Year nominee

Here is an early entrant to the Dallas Morning News Texan of the Year sweepstakes:
Scott Drew.
Drew is the men's basketball coach at Baylor University, which, when he accepted the job coming from Valparaiso University in Indiana, was like assuming command of the Titanic ... on the way down. The BU program was given the harshest penalty, short of the SMU death penalty, for its past, including covering up a murder and telling players to lie by a coach.
Its prior history before that also involves other coaches who had to break the rules just to compete. The Bears were smacked hard by the NCAA - couldn't recruit, couldn't play non-conference games and were dead, for all intent and purpose.
Last night, Baylor completed its phoenix-like rise with what should be the game of the year in college basketball (116-100 five OT win over ranked Texas A&M in College Station). And it has all been due to the tenacity of Drew, who has single-handedly brought the Bears out of the abyss. He's done it by following the rules, choosing his student athletes-carefully and wisely.
BU will make the NCAA field, short of a total collapse, and any victory in the tournament will be a major accomplishment. In this case, this "Hoosiers" like comeback can be pinpointed to one man - Scott Drew and hopefully the Morning News will recognized that in 11 months.

Clemens: The truth is somewhere out there

I watched Roger Clemens' interview last night on "60 Minutes" and it is difficult to tell who is lying and who is telling the truth on either side.
A few pitchers, if the path is followed properly and if they are so physically inclined, CAN pitch into their mid-40s. Clemens' idol, after all, was Nolan Ryan and no one has accused the Ryan Express of carrying a car load of steroids on the journey.
Did he? No one knows for sure, which is the proper answer with Roger Clemens.
Ryan DID play in the steroid era, and was on teams with admitted steroid users. But no one believes he did and no one should automatically take the word of one person that someone did.
But is awfully difficult to unprove a negative. It's like proving he didn't beat his wife. Who would ask that in the first place?
I just don't know.

My Christmas message: We can do better!

I enjoy writing a column, almost published weekly, for The Community News in Aledo, Texas, west of Fort Worth. This week that publication is becoming The Community (Good) News because there’s not enough of it to be read, seen or heard in the media these days. It’s not really the fault of the news-deliverers; it is more of a function of the society that still ogles at car wrecks on the side of the road and want to hear every juicy details of any Hollywood star’s personal problems.
If the public would insist, through its choices of music, books, films and publications, to accentuate the positive instead of morbidly dwelling on people’s shortcomings and tragedies, there WOULD be more good news to be read, seen and heard.
Parker County has its shares of good news to spread among the masses. And I would like to add a couple of words for the future: We can do better! As a collective known as the human race, we can do better! Much, much better, in fact!
People in east Parker County read too many stories of tragedy over the last 12 months – children dying too young for going too fast on roadways or being innocent victims when adults could no longer cope with everyday lives. The most graphic involved a woman, with a low-paying, mind-numbing job, stuck in poverty, living in near-squalid conditions, unable to escape an abusive relationship, who took the lives of her adolescent children before committing suicide – all out of complete desperation without anyone to help her.
In almost every case, including this one, it was probably preventable if someone had decided to help – to prevent – to avoid. Had someone come forward to help, to have pointed that person in the proper direction, taken a hand and led them to the proper agency, those would have been stories never told because that misery would not have occurred.
I was reading last Sunday’s Points section in the Dallas Morning News, and some of the facts published struck like a Maxwell’s Silver Hammer (bang! bang! on my head!). Each page made me realize how much people can treat other people much better in order to product a more peaceful co-existence within mankind.
I was stunned to learn that Texas ranked first among all states in the number of teenage pregnancies and next-to-last in the number of working poor families (emphasis on the word “working”). Texas is also third lowest in the county for its expenditures on public welfare programs per capita ($808). A full 40 percent of those in poverty are under the age of 18 – meaning children who have NO control over their environment.
One out of every four children in Texas are born into poverty and, as a state, we are third-highest in the country (behind Mississippi and New Mexico) for the number of people who go hungry, or live in fear of starvation, every single day!
If education is the answer, why is the Texas high school drop out rate at 34 percent? Why does it ranked second to last for its verbal SAT scores and only 46th for math scores? Why has the average spending per public school student slid from 25th in the nation in 1999 to 41st?
Why does Texas rank first among all states in terms of uninsured population at 24.6 percent? Why do we allow this? Surely, we can do better!
The section continues about the state’s prison population, the makeup of the youth sent to the wasteland known as the Texas Youth Commission and which county is considered totally toxic to be am American resident (answer: Jefferson). Each cold, hard fact just screams at you to begin to fulfill my four word statement: We can do better!
How? That’s a more complicated question. It is going to require more compassion and initiative from a cross-section of society. It will mean more interaction from service organizations, churches, social outreach agencies, civic groups, school classrooms and, more importantly, normal day-to-day living human beings. It will mean people of means might have to share a little wealth with those not as fortunate, or gifted, or blessed with such worldly possessions – and do so without denigrating those being assisted.
It means if you see someone in obvious need, in obvious inner pain (that a pill or a shot of penicillin cannot cure), you must try to do something to help them. Show them where to go to ask for help. Show them HOW to ask for help. Tell them if it perfectly acceptable to seek help in order not to do harm to others. Oh yes, it means that help has to be available, through consistent charitable efforts or governmental support. After all, isn’t the job of government to “protect” all the people – not just the richer ones?
Tell someone close to you that he or she can do better for their children or for their relatives. If it is a co-worker, tell them they can, and should, ask for help to kick addictions, to face personal challenges, to avoid splintering their lives into the kind of Humpty-Dumpty pieces that cannot be put back together again.
Motivate yourself in whatever manner you find acceptable – from “What Would Jesus Do?” to “If for the grace of God, go I” to “Do onto others as you have them do onto you.” Or you can simply tell yourself, “It just the right damn thing to do.” That YOU can do better in order for others to do better.
Yes, we can do better and that IS the good news I share today. We should do better; we can do better; we must do better.
For their sake … and ours.

The beginning of steroids in sports

Since the release of the Mitchell Report, sports fans are pretending to themselves that this is a scandal with parentage in the early 1990s, as if steroids in baseball, and sports overall, appeared overnight. Drugs, of one kind or another, in various forms from amphetamines to pain-killers to old-fashioned alcohol, have been part of the athletic fabrics for decades.
In 1970, former Yankee pitcher Jim Bouton exposed the underbelly of baseball and its rampant pill-popping in his landmark book, “Ball Four.” The baseball establishment, led by then-Commissioner Bowie Kuhn, labeled Bouton as a heretic and a liar. Today, we might view Bouton’s revelations of drug use, players cheating on their wives and the overt drunkenness of superstar Mickey Mantle as “the good old days.”
However, the problems of steroid usage in baseball and other sports can be traced back to one event and a complete different sport. The year was 1976, the sport was Olympic swimming and the place was Montreal, Canada. What resulted from that competition forever changed the landscape and the methods used to achieve victory.
A small history lesson: prior to those Olympic Games, swimming supremacy has generally contested between two nations – the United States and Australia. And specifically, most of the U.S. swimmers came from Southern California, where the warm weather and long-standing aquatic tradition, allowed hopefuls to begin training at very young ages.
Many of them lived most of their lives in pools and trained for many, many hours each week. It was the training that got them into the upper echelon of American swimming, not any physical superiority. The greatest American swimmer ever, Mark Spitz, was not that physically imposing, less than 6-foot tall and around 160 pounds. But he had the perfect swimmer’s body – long arms, long legs and an elastic, sinewy build. His pectoral muscles were as flat as could be as to offer no resistance while gliding through the water.
In many cases, the contestants resembles their environments – tall, tanned, surfer boys with bleached blonde “Moondoggy” hair and girls, also bronzed, blonde and more mature-looking “Gidgets” – and, yes, you knew they were all California girls, like the song desired.
In the early 1970s, word filtered through the swimming community of world records being shattered by large differentials, from Eastern bloc countries. It became much of the talk around the pool and lockerroom area during such important national competitions as the NCAA men’s indoor, and AAU Indoor and Outdoor championships.
However, the United States was confident in its lineup, especially, the women’s roster, for the Montreal Games. The Americans were led by California sprinter Shirley Babashoff, a striking honey blonde from Whittier, who won the world title in the 200 and 400 meter freestyle. “Babs” was a gold medalist four years earlier in Munich in the 400-meter sprint relay, helping to defeat the East German women, making their initial mark in Olympic competition.
The East German women, including a 13-year-old girl from Bitterfeld named Kornelia Ender, did not take home a gold medal that year. The sports federation officials back home would be determined not to be shut out the next time around.
So in Montreal, something radical happened. Instead of the team and competitors seen at Munich, or even in the World Championships one year earlier, the East German contingent that took to the starting blocks were different – drastically, shockingly and, more important, intimidating.
When Babashoff went to compete in the 200-meter freestyle, next to her was Ender, now 17, and completely transformed physically. She has huge muscles, more like any man, and spoke in an extremely husky voice, more like any man. And many of the East German girls had noticeable hair growth on their face, arms, legs and underarms, more like any man.
Babashoff, at that time, a fairly happy-go-lucky girl, was stunned at what she saw. Ender wasn’t just bigger; she dwarfed the world champion and in the water was no match for any other competitor. Ender proceeded to win four gold medals (a first for women in swimming) and set individual or world records in each event – obliterating the former standards.
Babashoff could only muster second places in all her events until the last race of the competition – the 400-meter sprint relay. Only through sheer will did she out-touch Ender in the final strokes to earn her only gold medal of the meet.
Her lack of success was not due to poor pool performance or times. Her silver medal clocking in the 400-meter freestyle (losing to Ender) was faster than the winning time posted by another American swimming legend, Don Schollander, at the 1964 Olympics in Tokyo.
When the carnage was completed, Babashoff began to voice her suspicions loudly and publicly about possible cheating by the East Germans. She was vilified by many in the international swim community, earning the nickname, “Surly Shirley.” She never again was a major factor in the sport, but was inducted in the International Swimming Hall of Fame in 1982.
Only later, was she proven correct when it was revealed that the East Germans had, indeed, used performance enhancing drugs to win all those gold medals. East German doctors were regularly injecting athletes like Ender with newly-developed steroids to advance physical development and super-size performance. In a sport like swimming, power COULD overwhelm form, an din 1976, it did.
Sadly, the epilogue for Shirley Babashoff is inglorious. She became a single mother and wound up as a mail carrier for the U.S. Post Office in Orange County, Calif., home to some of the most successful Olympic training programs in her sport – swimming.
And what has been done about this obvious injustice? Nothing! The International Olympic Committee, that hypocritical “watchdog” over amateur athletics, has never stripped the East German swimmers of their ill-gotten medals. American sprinter Marion Jones was recently shorn of her medals, similar to the old-fashioned Army method of “branding” a disgraced soldier – tearing off epilates one at a time and breaking the man’s sabre.
But what became of all those chemists and doctors who were developing those drugs? What do you think happened to them? Most likely, they were gobbled up by pharmaceutical firms, including the German-based Bayer (with its own dubious history), and went to work on developing … steroids.
Remember, our nation’s initial atomic research program only advances upon the defection of the original nuclear engineers, refugees in the 1930s from Nazi Germany. Without the Werner von Brauns of the world, the U.S. would have been years behind in its program development.
So here we are today with the state of baseball, and other sports, at the mercy of medical and technological advances. The Tour de France has been rendered almost totally illegitimate by its drug scandals, track and field cannot hold a major event without drug scandals and everyone is questioning records and performances from the past two decades in baseball.
And to think, it all began in a swimming pool.

I’m FORD tough

Author's Note: The following column appeared in the Dec. 6, 2007, edition of the Dallas Morning News' Collin County Opinions.
As Collin County remains one of Texas’ fastest growing suburban counties (and in America), so does the level of its diversity. Neighborhoods are now populated by people of Asian, Indian, Middle Eastern, Eastern European and Latin American descent – a veritable United Nations.
And then there are people who represent minorities like me. FORDs. Fat. Old. Rumpled. Democrats.
In the land of Lexus, Jaguar, Mercedes and Hummers, it is the BMW (your imagination can complete the anagram but bigoted materialistic whites MIGHT apply) that is all too often seen and heard. And too the dismay of the FORD, the BMW also rules politically; they’re just called Republicans.
Being a FORD is a family affair for me. My father was pretty much a FORD man until the day he died – the older he got, the more partisan he remained. He grew up with FDR and stood by those principles far more than anything he heard in the years afterwards. I went voluntarily into that realm; no one, including my Dad, had to coerce me.
So what makes a FORD run? We don’t like paying taxes anymore than others, especially when they surface in the new age form of road tolls – an increasingly popular mechanism amongst the ruling party in Austin to snatch money from its citizens without truth in labeling. When “See the USA in your Chevrolet” was popular, it meant driving the open roads – free from cost other than related to the vehicle. Hey, Buzz Murdock and Tod Stiles drove their Corvette on “Route 66” for nothing.
FORDs want to save the environment, but many among us care less about what’s being recycled and more about the brown stuff we call breathable air. After all, when it rains, my truck should not have more dirt ON it than before the showers began.
Mostly, a FORD cares about who made this nation strong and vibrant – the men and women who built things – from skyscrapers to bridges to the tools that created them. American workers are more responsible for the economic success and growth of this nation, following World War II (our golden jubilee apparently), than, frankly, corporate management. Sadly, too many worker bee positions have been sacrificed overseas for profits’ sake, while not enough suits-and-ties have seen the same fate. You see, workers tend now to be FORDS like me and suits tend to be BMWs.
When I was a pup, American-made meant something; for top-grade quality. Of course, I come from a time when my refrigerator was made in Amana, Iowa, my Zenith television came from Chicago, my Emerson radio was built on Long Island and the phone was made by Western Electric – an American company. My baseball glove was an American Wilson model, my shoes came from Brockton, Massachusetts and my baseball bats had “Louisville, Kentucky” stamped on each piece of wood. The cars we drove were ONLY made in Detroit because we supported the home team.
Our homes stood for American products, even if it cost a bit more than the cheaper brands. You did get what you paid for; the purchase of anything USA kept the economy strong. Wages from buying our products circulated through families, neighborhoods and businesses – to buy more American goods and hire more American workers – the ones who actually stood on that factory line.
Too many BMWs have turned the word “union,” into something dirty, unpleasant and vilified. But those same BMWs scream the loudest when all these foreign-made products, which have flooded the market because of the low, low cost-per-unit price, have begun to make Britney, Buffy and Carter (and others) sick as dogs.
Gee, that really didn’t happen when American workers made those same items, did it?
In this land of BMWs, the honk from this old FORD just can’t be heard. The local BMW drivers run everything from the courthouse to the outhouse, where many of us find our current lot in life.
I have always believed that no man needs to own a Rolex or any other expensive watch in order to tell time. A Bulova or Timex does the same thing at a fraction of the cost. After all, isn’t that the “function” of a watch?
Same holds true for being a FORD. My beliefs will get me to where I want to go; no need to own and maintain an expensive, overpriced philosophy. And when the others in this area realize that a FORD works as well, or better, than any BMW, things might get changed for the better.
Until then, I remain FORD tough. And gruff.