#934 – Dick Bernard: Eight weeks (56 days) to November 4, Election Day 2014.

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Yesterdays post, here, relates to this one.

August, 2013. Who every election is about....

August, 2013. Who every election is about….


Recently, in an e-mail, came a very interesting short test on current events* from the highly respected Pew Research Center. It asks 13 questions: “What do you know about the news?”.
You can take the test privately. Here it is. Elsewhere in this post I will tell you how I did, compared with the national sample who were surveyed August 7-14, 2014.
Re the next eight weeks, there is really nothing to add to what will incessantly be irritatingly obvious: there is a major election in a few weeks.
As usual, in a non-presidential year, most people won’t vote at all (it’s mid-term, after all); a distressing percentage of those who’ll vote really don’t know the issues, much less where the candidates stand on the issues, much less even knowing who the candidates are.
The bottom line for me remains: We like to complain about “government”; but we’re actually complaining about ourselves.
If we were a dictatorship, or if there wasn’t a reasonably solid statutory base for “one person, one vote”, we might have more of a right to complain. But the vast majority of us CAN vote.
We each have as much power, through an informed vote, as the richest person in the country: one vote. True, big money can influence votes through these incessant and vacuous media ads and mailers we will see, without end. But ads don’t vote, either, except through us.
A good place to start, today, is to find out who your candidates will be on November 4. For Minnesotans (my state), here’s the entry point. All you need to know is your where you live. All the other rules are to be found at the same website. Other states doubtless have similar resources.
Once you know your candidates, find out what they stand for, really (not just the ads), and let the people who you know, know where you stand, and why.
And if you’re not sure about someone who’s a candidate ask someone you trust about them.
In the end, I hope we elect more folks who truly care about the entire country, than simply about their own particular ideology. We used to have a tradition, Republican and Democrat, which was more like that, than it is today.
Again, if we want change, we’ll be the ones to demand it through our vote on November 4, and in future elections.
* – Did you take the test referred to at the beginning?
The person who passed the test along to me said this: “Try this test! It is very interesting. It will test your knowledge of current events. It is interesting that 11 people of the original survey conducted by Pew Research did not get a single question correct.
This is an excellent test and it shows results in a number of ways. National results indicate that the majority of Americans don’t know what is going on in their country. Are these the “low information voters” we have been hearing about?
It is astonishing that so many people got less than half of the questions right. The results say that 80% of the voting public are basically clueless about current events. That’s pretty scary but not at all surprising.
There are no trick questions in this test — Either you know the answer or you don’t. It will give you an idea whether or not you are current on your information data base.”
My score? I got 12 of 13.

#933 – Dick Bernard: Working for Change

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A couple of weeks ago a waitress at a local restaurant I frequent asked me a question.
She knows I’m interested in politics, and her son-in-law, now in law school, had developed a strong interest in the Constitution. Could I give her some ideas?
There’s loads of materials on the U.S. Constitution, of course. I knew this young man was from my home state of North Dakota and I suggested that I’d try to find out something about the ND Constitution. Maybe he’d be interested. She thought that was a great idea and I embarked on my quest. It was more difficult than I had thought but as of today the young man has (I’m pretty sure) information he hasn’t seen before, and this is the 125th year of North Dakota becoming a state (1889).
As often happens with such quests, one question leads to another, and yesterday found me looking at the 2013-14 Minnesota Legislative Handbook (they used to be called the “Blue Book”) to see what information it might have about the Minnesota Constitution (Statehood, 1858, right before the Civil War.)
I found a fascinating page and a half description of what it was like to enact the Minnesota Constitution back then. You can read it here: MN Constitution Hist001.
It doesn’t take long to discover that it was not an easy process to enact a new Minnesota Constitution. In fact…well, you can read the short article. Of course, back in that day, all the players were men, didn’t make a difference which party they were, and they were accustomed to being in power, and (I suppose) the primacy of their own ideas. Compromise was not their strong suit, shall I say.
By the time of the North Dakota Convention in 1889 the process was considerably more cut and dried, but still it wasn’t without discord. The final document is, I’m told, 220 handwritten sheets, and here are the first two pages of what Prof. Elwyn Robinson in his 1966 History of North Dakota had to say in introduction to the proceedings: ND Constit – Robinson001.
Of course, again, all of the delegates were men of prominence in their communities.
Long after each convention, in 1920, Women’s Suffrage helped to begin level the playing field. The Civil Rights Act of 1965 began to deal with the residue of slavery, which was supposed to have been taken care of as a result of the Civil War 1861-65.
Nothing is easy.
Yesterday evening, winding down, I happened across a PBS program entitled Secrets of Westminster, about power in English history. You can watch it here.
There were many fascinating tidbits, but the one that will stick with me longest will be the segments about the long struggle for women’s suffrage in England, finally won in 1918, two years before the rights were granted in the U.S. There is an interesting timeline of the quest by British women to receive the right to vote here. Note especially the three entries about 1909, and 4 June 1913. Both were featured in the PBS program.
Change is a continuing struggle. Where there are people, there are differences, and there is power. Change cannot be made by pretending someone else will do it; or that it is impossible to do anything about “it” (whatever “it” is). But it is possible.
At a recent meeting, I was noting a sign I had recently seen on a Holiday Inn Express motel in Bemidji Minnesota. It is pictured here:
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At hotel entrance Bemidji MN August 8, 2014

At hotel entrance Bemidji MN August 8, 2014


I commented on how inconceivable a sign like this would have been not too many years ago.
Jim remembered how it all began. He was a college student 50 years ago, and it was the time when the first warnings were publicized on cigarettes, which “may” be hazardous to ones health.
Change happened, there, because some people, individually and then united, worked for it, and worked, and worked, and worked….
We must do the same.

#932 – Dick Bernard: International Day of Peace, September 21, 2014

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(click to enlarge)

International Peace Day at Loring Park, Minneapolis, September 21, 2003

International Peace Day at Loring Park, Minneapolis, September 21, 2003


Eleven years ago, sometime in August, 2003, a group of peace and justice folks at Minneapolis’ First Unitarian Society had an idea: let’s do a Peace Day at Loring Park on the International Day of Peace, September 21. Their plan involved enlisting churches in the downtown Minneapolis neighborhood.
I volunteered.
“Peace Day”? September 21?
It wasn’t until later that I learned of Jeremy Gilley, a young Englishman, who had done the inconceivable: an ordinary citizen convincing the United Nations to fix a specific date for its annual International Day of Peace as September 21 each year, rather than the third Tuesday in September, or even other dates, which had been the practice since the day was established at the United Nations in 1981.
The first Peace Day observed on September 21 had been the previous year, 2002. Somebody in the Twin Cities had heard about it, and here we were: planning one for the Twin Cities in its second year, 2003.
(NOTE: Sunday, September 21, 2014, is this years International Day of Peace. The complex and fascinating story of Peace Day is told in a free 80 minute on-line movie, “The Day After Peace”, accessible here.)
By September, 2003, I had become active in the peace and justice committee at Basilica of St. Mary, one of the downtown churches, and I agreed to help out with the Peace Day event, which came to be called “Peace on the Hill” (First Unitarian is, in fact on Lowry hill, a couple of blocks up from Loring Park).
As I recall, the committee was having trouble finding somebody to be a speaker.
On the day itself, Sep. 21, 2003, the weather was uncertain, and maybe a couple of hundred of us gathered in a circle, some local musicians inspired us (photo above), and then-Minneapolis Mayor R.T. Rybak came at the last minute and gave a very good speech. He had made a special trip to the event as this was his wedding anniversary weekend, and they had made other plans.
Peace on the Hill was a very good event, and my friend Madeline Simon, and her colleagues at First Unitarian, deserve the credit for a very good idea. (My personal thoughts, written a few days after the event, are at the end of this post.) I still have the t-shirt from the day: Peace Day 9-21-03001
Events like Peace on the Hill are difficult to put together, and it is even more difficult to sustain interest. So, to my knowledge, the first day was also the last. There were other efforts, but they were only sporadic and scattered.
Assorted “bugaboos” known to anyone who has ever organized anything interfere with long term success.
There were plenty of reasons for Jeremy Gilley to give up on his noble idea of a specific day set aside for peace.

By tragic irony, the United Nations adopted September 21 as the International Day of Peace on September 7, 2001, effective in 2002.
Four days later, on September 11, 2001, as the UN was celebrating the 2001 International Day of Peace, outside, on a pleasant day, the Twin Towers just down the street from the UN were hit.
It all could have ended, then and there. But it didn’t.
From all indications, in 2014, Jeremy Gilley has the focus and the momentum. His goal now, and it’s an attainable one, is that 3 billion people, half of the worlds population, will be aware of September 21 as the International Day of Peace.
Simple awareness is a large step towards victory.
Watch the movie, and commit to do something this International Day of Peace, and every day following.
*
POSTNOTE: Thoughts written after International Peace Day September 21, 2003.
Dick Bernard, September 29, 2003, P&J #460 “Who’ll be speaking?”
Note especially the bold-faced section beginning at #4.
A suggestion: I am reading a little book, and near the beginning was a paragraph which caught my eye:
“…if we so choose, we can always postpone the jump from thought to action. We really need to acquire more information, read another book, attend one more conference, hold further conversations, in order to “clarify the issues.” Then we’ll act. So if the action looks risky, there is always a good reason to postpone it: we don’t know enough yet.
“We are fooling ourselves: we never actually “postpone” the jump from thought to action. For, paradoxical as it sounds, not to act is to act. It is to act by default for whoever is in charge. People who did not oppose the Nazi gassing of Jews were supporting the Nazis: “See,” Hitler could say, “nobody is objecting.”….”
(From Unexpected News: Reading the Bible with Third World Eyes, by Robert McAfee Brown. Check it out.)
What to do?
Some Actions among many we all can easily take:
1. Actually write a real letter to your Congressperson and Senators and editor, etc., about the $87,000,000,000 and the additional immense deficits. Make it brief and to the point. It will be read by somebody, and they will pay attention.
2. Do something for Peace and Justice YOU consider to be a bit outrageous – outside of your comfort zone, even if only a little. That is the only real way to get into action…to be at least a little uncomfortable. For sure don’t be stymied by a need to know everything (see the book quote above). As we are becoming more and more aware, the “big deals” probably know less than we do – yes, they may have more information, but their “blind spots” are huge – their ego causes them to miss the obvious…and then deny its existence long after it is obvious to others.
3. Pay much more attention to today’s quiet masses than to the loudmouths. I think the quiet multitude among us – the vast majority – is starting to wonder if Iraq, the economy, etc makes any sense. In a sense, they might be like the ordinary passengers on the Titanic who might have been on deck and wondering about those icebergs out there, but said to themselves “they must know what they’re doing”, and expressed concern to nobody. Of course, “they” up on the bridge of the unsinkable Titanic apparently didn’t have a clue, and the Titanic sank on its maiden voyage. We are, collectively, on our own Titanic…. There is a temptation – I feel it myself – to say “see, I told you so”. Avoid the temptation. The nature of humans is to not want to admit they’ve been wrong.
4. Make a commitment to SUPPORT activities in your area that SOMEBODY like you is investing a lot of time, personal effort and even money in to make a success. Attend those demonstrations, and programs, etc., etc., and by so doing you show your support of somebody’s hard effort for peace and justice. Thank the people who made the event happen even if it might not have been perfect. Ditto for requests people make of you. (Personally, I will be giving you a couple of invitations in the near future: it will be a good opportunity to practice your skills of acknowledging/accepting/declining! Stay tuned.)
The importance of Active Support came close to home for me at an event I was helping coordinate in Loring Park in Minneapolis on September 21, Peace on the Hill. The event turned out to be a real success, but before it began one of my fellow volunteers was talking about a party he’d been to the previous evening. A number of peace and justice activists were at the party, and he invited them to come to the get-together. “Who’ll be speaking”, they asked in a variety of ways, suggesting that they’d consider coming if the program would be sufficiently “interesting”. At the time, we couldn’t guarantee any speakers – in fact, our focus was not speakers, rather music, and my presumption is that the activists my colleague was talking about were not in evidence at the Park during our program.
“Who’ll be speaking?”. In a real sense, the speakers that cool and overcast Sunday afternoon were the several hundred people who actually came with no expectations. (Ultimately, the Mayor of Minneapolis, R.T.Rybak did come to our Peace on the Hill event, and spent a lot of time with us, and gave a great speech as well. It developed that he couldn’t absolutely commit to coming beforehand because of a family commitment, and he had to drive home early to be with us. Rather than passing the duty off to an aide, he felt it was important enough to attend in person. He deserves gratitude.)
Some of you came to Peace on the Hill, and I was grateful to see you. It was acknowledgement that the event was important, even though there were many other things you could have been doing. Event organizers notice things like that, even if they’re too busy to chat at the time. The musicians noticed that the audience was an appreciative one, engaged. That was important to the musicians – who performed for nothing.
“Who’ll be speaking?”
How about you, in any of sundry ways?
Have a great week..

#931 – Dick Bernard: A new school year begins

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In a few hours, most Minnesota students return to school for the 2014-15 school year. At this moment, more than 800,000 Minnesota public school students, and more than 100,000 more teachers, administrators, cooks, custodians, bus drivers, etc., are, regardless of their grade level, or number of years of experience, somewhat nervous about tomorrow. It is a bit like preparing to go “on stage”. The jitters are very normal.
(About 9 of 10 school age kids attend publicly funded schools. Education is a primary constitutional function of government and reflects the diversity that is America. Most of the remaining students attend non-public schools of one sort or another. A smaller percentage are home-schooled. The general Minnesota data for all is linked above. National enrollment figures are similar. About one of six Americans are enrolled in public schools.)
Among those returning to school in Minnesota will be eight of our grandkids, my daughter who is a school principal, and another daughter who is a school board member.
Even though we’re physically detached from that place called “school”, it is certainly never far away.
We wish them all well.
I’ve spent most of my life immersed in public education. Both parents were career public school teachers. Both of them were my teachers, at school, in 8th grade, then high school. Four aunts and two uncles were school teachers, most of them career teachers. Some cousins are retired teachers…. Yes, school has never been far away, including the 27 years I represented public school teachers through what was then called Minnesota Education Association (now Education Minnesota (EM)).
Today was the last day of the Minnesota State Fair, and we went to the Fair. For me it was the second trip.
This day I made my usual stop, at the long-time booth of Education Minnesota.
(click to enlarge)

Education Minnesota booth, September 1, 2014

Education Minnesota booth, September 1, 2014


For many years, Education Minnesota’s booth has been one of the more popular stops at the Fair. Folks can stop by and get their photo and a 2014-15 calendar for free. I got in line for mine, which you can see, in part, here: Bernard – EM 9-1-2014001. Julie Blaha, tomorrow a 5th grade teacher in the Anoka-Hennepin School District, Minnesota’s largest, and for several preceding years President of the local teacher’s union there, greeted all of us in the cheery way of a great teacher. Those who entered the EM booth knew they were with friends.
School is a complex place during the best of times. When mixed in with politics, and emotions, and all of the other facets that go with a complex people institution, no doubt even the first day some things will happen, somewhere.
But when one considers the infinite potential for problems, it is amazing how well schools work.
Most kids are looking forward to being back in school, albeit somewhat nervously. The system will work, not always perfectly, and for the most part retired folks like ourselves will not hear much, mostly because there is not much to hear! Things are working okay.
Our nine grandkids (one graduated long ago) are all unique individuals. Somehow or other, schools do a pretty good job blending kids with each other, and helping each kid find his or her way in whatever grade he/she finds him or herself tomorrow.
We wish everyone well.
Part of the gathering crowd at the Minnesota State Fair, last day, September 1, 2014

Part of the gathering crowd at the Minnesota State Fair, last day, September 1, 2014


COMMENT
from Shirley L:
Appreciated your comments about school and opening day. It was always an exciting time for our family with both parents in school positions – and my brother and I matriculating at the college lab school. Such a regular routine that in the fall I feel a bit out of step! I do take advantage of the back-to-school sales of school supplies…really stock up on pens, paper, folders, sketchbooks, etc.
So here’s a toast to you – your grandkids – and all of our wonderful memories of those great school days!!
from Denise S, President of Education Minnesota: The other day a couple was [at the booth] getting their picture taken and they said it was #17. Fun! A great tradition, indeed. Our best guess is we do 1,200-1,500 calendars a day. Good stuff!

#930 – Dick Bernard: Our (Minnesota) State Fair; and remembering North Dakota and Texas as well.

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Yesterday I spent three or so hours at the Minnesota State Fair. It’s “my” state fair, and as the song from the musical goes, it’s “the best state fair in our state”. Over the last 50 years or so I’ve often been to the Minnesota State Fair. It’s something like a piece of genetic code. When the last 12 days of the month of August arrive, I know that I will, at least once, go to the State Fair.
Plenty of folks share that gene, I know. The State Fair has been attracting people for over 150 years, just a year less than Minnesota has been a state.
Out at the ND farm of my mother, was this postcard from way back:
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Postcard dated 100 years ago, Sep. 22, 1914, featuring Minnesota State Fair.

Postcard dated 100 years ago, Sep. 22, 1914, featuring Minnesota State Fair.


I’m no high-roller at the Fair: yesterdays total cost was about $26.00, including $5 for bus to the Fair; $8 to get in (senior citizens day); $5 for deep fried veggies; $8 for a cup of Sweet Martha’s Cookies, most of which came home with me. Even for me, this was a cheapskate day. A period of light rain interfered, and some of my usual stops I just passed by. But I’m glad I went. I happened to be near leaving when the daily parade started. It was fairly short, but nice. Several bands, and almost a herd of those gigantic cows advertising this or that.
Minnesota State Fair Parade August 28, 2014

Minnesota State Fair Parade August 28, 2014


The real fun of this fair – any fair – is people watching. We’re all odd, in our unique sorts of ways. “Ships passing in the [daylight]” as it were. For the most part, at the Fair, pretense and conventional wisdom is left at the door. Who cares if I’m overweight; who’ll notice that piece of fatty bacon I paid far too much for, and is laden with all sorts of dangerous things, but is oh, sooooo gooooood. For a moment, when I was seeing those gigantic cows being dragged along I thought of as some kind of state fair deity.
August 28, 2014

August 28, 2014


Almost exclusively I know the Minnesota State Fair. It is my only point of reference.
But a couple of memorable other State Fairs come to mind.
In the summer of 2007 I happened to be in Minot ND at the time of the North Dakota State Fair. Pretty neat fair, if I do say so myself. The Motel proprietor saw fit to give me a ticket to the grandstand show the evening I was there, featuring a country-western guy I’d never heard of. It was a great show. Every now and then I take a listen to one of his songs, “What Was I Thinking”. Had I not been to the ND State Fair, I never woulda known….
Dierks Bentley, July 27, 2007, North Dakota State Fair, Minot ND

Dierks Bentley, July 27, 2007, North Dakota State Fair, Minot ND


Then there was a time way back in the 1970s when I happened to be in Dallas at the time of the Texas State Fair, I believe it was in October, if memory serves. I had an entire evening to kill between the end of my conference, and catching a bus at about 4 a.m. to go visit my brother and family in Altus Oklahoma.
The Fair itself was quite alright. Very large, different from Minnesota, but that was to be expected.
I went back to the Bus Depot to wait for my bus.
Bus depots, late at night, are not for the faint of heart. This particular night, somebody plopped down beside me, mumbled a little, and seemed to pass out. I thought to myself, probably drunk. Then I looked at his arm, and he was all bloody. Some police came in, and something of a surreal scuffle ensued. Nobody said anything. When the dust settled, I learned that my seat mate had been shot by someone at the Texas State Fair.
It was a relief to get on the bus heading towards Ft. Worth. I struck up a conversation with the couple seated in front of me. They were from Ft Worth, they said, and were on their way home. Why by bus? Their car had been stolen at the Fair.
Ah yes, our State Fair is a great State Fair!

#929 – Dick Bernard: Aiming at the Moon (and hitting ourselves); a thought on redefining how we see relationships with our world, and about the matter of changing attitudes..

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Early Wednesday morning, August 21, I was heading out for coffee from my motel in LaMoure ND, and a sight begging to be photographed appeared a few steps to my left, and I couldn’t pass on it. Here’s the snapshot. The waning moon appeared to be in the “bullseye”.
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August 21, 2014, 6:15 a.m., LaMoure ND

August 21, 2014, 6:15 a.m., LaMoure ND


I’m very familiar with the sight: I stay often at this motel. August 10, on a previous trip, I’d taken a photo of the permanently on display Minuteman Missile you see in the photo. But this one, with the moon as the bullseye, was unique. I just looked up the Phase of the Moon I photographed that day: here.
More about this missile at the end of this post.
My trips to LaMoure, these past months especially, have always been work, both physical and emotional. I go into a “news blackout”, basically, too busy to read a newspaper; too tired to even watch TV news. So it wasn’t until I arrived home late on the 21st that I learned of the decapitation of the American journalist in Syria by an ISIS person with a distinctly British accent; and I saw the image of some ISIS hotshots showing off with some American tank, either purchased or captured in Iraq and now part of the ISIS arsenal.
Suddenly our omnipotence does not seem so potent. The radicals in ISIS seem far more dangerous and ominous than al Qaeda a few years ago, essentially thumbing their collective noses at us, using our own weapons and tactics, and we can’t do a thing about it. So we debate around the edges of the true reality, which is we can no longer control the world, and our past actions have consequences. We now debate on whether or not we should pay ransom to rescue captured journalists or others, and we face the prospect of dealing with shadowy enemies who look and talk just exactly like us. (“American” are very diverse, should anyone not have noticed. The traditional order has irreversibly changed.)
This is a very complex situation in which we find ourselves, even worse than our no-win Iraq adventure which began in 2003 with bragging that we had won that war less than two months into that awful and deadly and endless conflict (which still continues).
We now have to live within the world which we have made.
When I got home this week, I decided to review the history of the Minuteman Missile, which was a creature of my time in North Dakota.
August 10, 2014, LaMoure ND

August 10, 2014, LaMoure ND


SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURES
We Americans love our weaponry: the Biblical “Ploughshares” doesn’t seem to have a chance against “Swords”. We’re so strong, armed so well, peace runs a far distant second to the advantage of overwhelming military superiority – or so goes the conversation. Look for Monuments to Peace in your circuits. And to War. And see who wins. (One organization I support whose sole mission is a Peace Memorial is here. Check it out.)
Googling “Minuteman North Dakota” just now brought forth a North Dakota Historical Society site which for some odd reason is dedicated to President Ronald Reagan.
The Minutemen were children of Presidents Eisenhower, Kennedy and Johnson during the Cold War, and were planted between 1961-67 in the heat of the Cold War (Reagan was in office much later, 1981-89).
When you’re talking man-up, whose name is attached to manning-up matters, I guess.
I see lowly ploughshares memorialized from time to time, but they’re seldom named for a person, compared with war memorials, they are minuscule in number.
FDR was President when the Nuclear Age was born; and Truman was President when the Atomic Bombs were first used, and Eisenhower was at the helm when other weapons of mutually assured destruction were developed and tested.
Actually, all the military toys ought to be dedicated to “we, the people” who fund, and indeed have insisted on their development through our Congress, which by action (or inaction) authorizes endless war and military investment.
(Changing this reality is not simple: for instance, my Grandmother on the ND farm* 10 miles from that Missile in the photos, was joyful when the A-Bomb was dropped on Hiroshima in 1945(Atomic Bomb 1945001). Her bias was her son, an officer on a Destroyer in the Pacific. She wanted him home safe. The U.S. War Department, then, rhapsodized in public relations releases that this deadly bomb might be the key to ending war forever.
And Saturday night I was at a Minnesota Twins baseball game with a family group which included my granddaughters father-in-law. He’s a great guy. Much of his career as an Air Force enlisted man was making sure those ND Minuteman sites were secure….)
As a country we have supported these symbols of our supposed omnipotence, without regard to partisan designation. It is dangerous for a politician to speak against War.
Now a few countries, especially the U.S. and Russia, are awash in nuclear weapons which, if ever used, even one, by some lawless renegade leader or thief, will take a long step towards mutually assured destruction of everyone downwind.
The conventional wisdom back then, that our strength was in military superiority, was not only wrong, but stupid.
We’re in a hole of our own making, and best that we figure out it’s worth our while to not only stop digging, but try other means of co-existing.
We’re part of, not apart from, a much bigger world than just within our borders.
Change can happen, but it always happens slowly. Be the one person who is, as Gandhi said, “the change you wish to see.”
* POSTNOTE: On that same farm, in the yard in November, 1957, I and others watched Sputnik as it blinked on and off in the black night ski. In those days, newspapers carried maps of where you could see Sputnik. In my memory (I was 17 then, and a senior in high school), the trajectory was from SSE to NNW, but I could be wrong. Sputnik was a big, big deal. Earlier, in early teen years, Grandpa would rail on about the Communists, who were sort of abstract to me, then, but it fits, now, with my knowledge of the great Red Scare, Sen. Joe McCarthy, HUAC, etc. And earlier still, would be the Flash Gordon novel which somebody had bought sometime, and was pretty ragged, but featured the Ray Gun (early Laser fantasy?), and Flash Gordon’s conflict with the evil ones. I have recently been going through all of the belongings of that old house, and I keep looking for that ragged old Flash Gordon book, but my guess is I won’t find it….
UPDATE AND COMMENT:
long-time good friend Bruce F responded to my post as follows:
I wonder,Dick, how these rag-tag radical groups in SW Asia can out gun and defeat government armies that we train and supply.
My guess is that in one form or another we supply and train them. In order to be the world’s largest arms dealer, the military industrial machine needs to work both sides to continue to expand profits.
Comment:
The key word in Bruce’s comment (to me, at least) is the word “we”. Who is “we”? And when?
Otherwise I’d agree with what seems to be the general thrust of Bruce’s comment: the unwieldy entity called the “United States” (primarily we citizens, collectively), have allowed this to evolve.
I doubt ISIS (or ISIL) or the “Caliphate” will have a long life. It will not become a new North Korea.
The regional situation is extraordinarily messy. It is difficult to identify who is “friend” or “enemy” at any particular time. The latest ISIS casualty publicized in this area was a graduate of a local Minneapolis suburban high school in 1990 who embraced a radical philosophy about 10 years ago.
The President of the United States is stuck in a quandary, which delights his enemies. There is nothing he can do which will not be legitimately criticized by someone. The U.S. Congress, which should be making the key decisions per its Constitutional obligation to make policy on War, generally, will continue to escape and evade its responsibility.
But it remains we Americans who through our own lack of engagement have helped create the monster which we now can scarcely understand, and hardly know how to turn around.

#927 – Dick Bernard: Guns and Relationships

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Shortly I leave on yet another trip to the North Dakota farm, continuing the long summer of preparing the place for new occupants. It has been a lot of work, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe this trip, to deal with the last of the scrap metal, and some other miscellany, might take care of at least the physical side of the effort. There remains the emotional: I’ve had far more of an investment in that place than I ever realized, and I knew that farm was important to me, though I never actually lived there. Just occasional visits from childhood on; then a week or so each year helping my Uncle with harvest. It was my hub: the house, the barn, the surrounding fields, the wheat golden when last I left about a week ago, the apple trees (this year very heavy with apples)….
And back home, each box of “junk” from that farm yields some treasure. This Oliver Writer Nr. 3 for instance, one of the first typewriters produced in quantity circa 1902.
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Oliver Typewriter Model Nr. 3 circa 1902, as it appears August, 2014

Oliver Typewriter Model Nr. 3 circa 1902, as it appears August, 2014


But as I leave this computer screen shortly for the now very familiar trip 310 miles west, my thoughts will be on other things. Past will be prelude: I do not “keep up” with the news on-the-road. What I know now, is what I will know when I resume life back home in a couple of days.
Ferguson MO, and what that all means, will likely be much on my mind. Here’s the last post I received about that terrible situation, 1:43 a.m.
How do I fit in with all that is Ferguson MO right now?
Two weeks ago I stood for near three hours at Somerset School on Dodd Road in nearby Mendota Heights watching hundreds of police cars pass in honor of their fallen comrade, Scott Patrick, who was gunned down by a career criminal, a white guy, who, he said himself, hated cops. That day seems so long ago now.
There are so many thoughts. Here, one guy with a gun, by all appearances an ordinary motorist who’d done something dumb, killed another guy, the policeman, who had no reason to feel he’d have to use his own gun.
The policeman is dead, no worries for him; the killer may have felt some temporary euphoria, but not for long.
What benefit did the gun give the one who used it?
None at all.
Still, we are absolutely awash in weapons in this country. It is our right to be armed and dangerous.
At the farm I’ll visit in a few hours, one of my first acts, when it was clear my uncle wouldn’t be coming back there, was to remove six weapons from the house for safekeeping. These were all routine kinds of hunting weapons, granted, but weapons nonetheless. Attractive targets for thieves.
Nov. 2013, at the farm. Two other guns, "heritage" types, were elsewhere in the house. Later I found another gun in the metal shed, and a pistol as well. All now in safekeeping.

Nov. 2013, at the farm. Two other guns, “heritage” types, were elsewhere in the house. Later I found another gun in the metal shed, and a pistol as well. All now in safekeeping.


Best I can tell, just from the news, guns don’t even benefit those who own and use them for protection, whether “bad” or “good”. The one having the temporary advantage with the gun, isn’t at all advantaged in the longer term.
And then there’s the matter of race in this country of ours. That’s the larger message in Ferguson, just beginning to be discussed, again.
We are, every single one of us, captives of an ancient narrative about race in this country.
At this bucolic farm I’ll visit in a few hours, they once had a favorite horse, a black horse, “Nigger”. This was long before I was born. But long after I was born a favorite Christmas nut was “nigger toes”, brazil nuts.
There was no drama in the use of this term, nigger. But the greater message was the very fact that it was used at all.
And it isn’t about “them”, it’s about every single one of us.
Aunt Edith's flower at the farm, August 10, 2014. Edith died February 12, 2014, some of her flowers live on.

Aunt Edith’s flower at the farm, August 10, 2014. Edith died February 12, 2014, some of her flowers live on.

#926 – Dick Bernard: The Sea Wing Disaster of July 13, 1890

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Screen Shot 2014-05-16 at 11.37.07 AM
For a number of months, occasional coffee-time conversation with friends David Thofern and Frederick Johnson usually got around to talk about progress on Mr. Johnson’s latest book, “The Sea Wing Disaster. Tragedy on Lake Pepin” (available through Goodhue County Historical Society here with event schedule about the book here). When the book came out, I bought a couple of copies (well worth the cost), and when I learned that the author would be talking about the volume at the Le Duc House in Hastings MN, I put it on the calendar, and last night my spouse and I went for a most fascinating hour presentation.
(click on photos to enlarge; to further enlarge poster beside Johnson, put cursor over the poster and click again.)

Frederick Johnson speaks on the Sea Wing disaster at Le Duc House, Hastings MN, Aug. 17, 2014

Frederick Johnson speaks on the Sea Wing disaster at Le Duc House, Hastings MN, Aug. 17, 2014


Frederick, David, myself, and others of we “regulars” are into bantering, about this and that, and this project was no different.
But the Sea Wing Disaster was no laughing matter. It happened July 13, 1890, in Lake Pepin, the shallow and large wide spot in the Mississippi River below Red Wing MN.
In the early evening of that day, the overloaded small steamer capsized in very strong winds, and 98 of the 215 passengers died. Most were from Red Wing.
It was and remains one of the largest domestic maritime disasters in U.S. History, and one of the very few in which weather was the major causative factor. (Many of the Sea Wing passengers were aboard a barge, lashed to the Sea Wing. All but one of the passengers on the barge survived. The Sea Wing, only 14′ wide and about 100 feet long, was overloaded and no match for the wind induced massive waves. The passengers had hardly a chance.)
The Sea Wing and Barge in tow before the catastrophe...

The Sea Wing and Barge in tow before the catastrophe…


...and after. Photos courtesy of Goodhue Co. Hist. Soc.

…and after. Photos courtesy of Goodhue Co. Hist. Soc.


In these days of AccuWeather and instantaneous forecasting it is perhaps hard to imagine being surprised by bad weather. People back then, and until very recently, relied on the usual visual signs of bad weather, and they knew what bad weather meant, in general. But this storm was different. Not long before the Sea Wing was struck down, a huge tornado from the same system had hit the Lake Gervais area just north of St. Paul. But this was 1890, and there was no easy way to spread the word about what was lurking not far away. The boat, the captain (who survived) and the passengers had hardly a chance.
Johnson first wrote about the Sea Wing in 1986. At the time he started planning to do an article, but there was so much material that he expanded his work into a book. Fast forward to 2014, and major additions provided by newly discovered material, including from the descendants of the casualties and survivors, gave rise to a much expanded new work. Indeed, even at the August 17 program, members of the audience showed photos of their ancestors who were with that boat the ill-fated day.
In this new edition, Mr. Johnson painstakingly researched both those who died and who survived. Judging from the audience on Sunday night, the new volume will bring forward still more new information retained in family collections for near 125 years.
Take in the presentation if you can (schedule above), and/or buy the book. It is a very interesting look at history.
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#925 – Dick Bernard: Leaving Iowa

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Michelle W., you’ve been promoting Woodbury Community Theatre for a long time, but we’ve yet to “darken the door”. Keep us on the list. Next time we’ll be there.
A week ago I stayed overnight with my sister and brother-in-law in Park Rapids MN. It was a last minute overnight, and they had plans to go to a play in tiny nearby Hubbard, and they scrambled to get one of the few remaining tickets for me.
What a night it was. The tiny Theater was packed; there were more people there, probably, than live in Hubbard. Word had gotten around, and a sold-out house was common.
Community Theater lives!
We saw the comedy “Leaving Iowa” (program here: Leaving Iowa001
Leaving Iowa001
Succinctly, “Leaving Iowa” is in essence about everybody-who-ever-was-in-a-family-who-took-a-car-on-“vacation”. In other words, most of us.
On the back leaf of the program (link above), the director describes one such trip of his own; at the end of this post, I describe one of mine. This is an invitation to remember your own experience(s).
The stereotypical Dad, the guy in charge (or so he thinks) died three years ago, his ashes unceremoniously perched on top of the fuse box in the basement. Most all of the play is in the car with the (really nicely) in-charge Mom; Dad; sis and brother, involved as any sister or brother who’s ever had to tolerate siblings in the confines of a car can relate. (For myself, it was seven of us, five kids, I the oldest, and I was in heaven when I finally got the Drivers License, and “controlled” the steering wheel. My siblings got rid of the pest, (me), of course; you know all the rest of variations of the story from your own memories of growing up, somewhere, and going as a family, some place.)
Part of the story involves the son taking Dad’s ashes to be distributed at some special place, and that is itself a hilarious though one-way conversation. Dad sits there quietly in his urn on the passenger side.
The story ends with son and Dad leaving Iowa for the final resting place at the geographic center of the United States, somewhere in Kansas. That, too, was one of Dad’s “democratically” decided destinations sometimes, and now his final.
The play was a little long, but the acting was delightful and if your town community theatre is looking for a really fun play with great audience appeal, this is one to check out.
(I just did a quick google search, and here are many links to check out, if you wish.)
And I promised my own story….
Back in August of 1978, I decided to take my son and my sisters foster-son Buck on a long trip from Minnesota as far south as Grand Canyon and back. The boys were 14, a good age for a trip like this. We traveled in my 1971 Chevy Van, our “motel” for the trip. We saw wonderful things, like driving to the top of Pike’s Peak; they learned to waterski on Lake Powell, and on and on. Like kids universally, they went where I did.
One memorable day we spent much time at Mesa Verde, CO, doing the tour, seeing the sights.
At night, we chose to stay in Cortez, Colorado, at a KOA. This one had a swimming pool, a heavenly development for the boys.
The next day was planned out. I thought that if we left somewhere about midnight, we could get to Grand Canyon in time to see the sunrise over the canyon.
I looked at the map, and it just happened that down the road about an hour or two was Four Corners, where Colorado, Utah, Arizona and New Mexico come together.
It was a not to be missed opportunity, and it would be the middle of the night when we passed it, so by the dictatorial powers vested in me, I cut back the swimming time for the boys, so that we could go see Four Corners.
They were not happy campers. But what choice did they have? None.
Off we went, me and two surly boys.
We got to Four Corners late on a hot afternoon and there it was, Four Corners, basically a brass plate in the godforsaken desert without so much as a souvenir stand or a place to buy some refreshments.
But we’d come there, and I insisted that the boys stand by the plaque so I could take the picture.
Somewhere in a box downstairs is that picture, a slide of two glowering kids obviously unhappy to be there. It’s a picture worth a thousand words, for sure!
We had lots of good memories from that trip, but this sour note is the one I choose to remember.
What do you remember?

#923 – Dick Bernard: Policing. Alternative ways of keeping the peace.

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My too-frequent trips out to North Dakota, with a side trip last Thursday and Friday to Bemidji, yield numerous ideas for blog posts, all kept on a list of possibilities for sometime.
Today, the first post after my return, current events in Ferguson MO interfere.
One week ago at this space I wrote about the outpouring of emotion about a policeman killed while making a routine traffic stop in a neighboring community. You can read it here.
This week the news has been dominated by a deadly incident in St. Louis suburb Ferguson MO, where a policeman shot and killed an unarmed teenager. There have been other recent incidents involving excessive violence by police. A long and excellent summary is here.
In last weeks post, at the end, I included a May 27, 2014, proposal by my friend, Grace Kelly, about recognizing positive policing policies. It seems a good time to remind readers of that proposal, and invite you to read and share the proposal, and help towards positive results in your community.
Best I recall, Ms Kelly’s sensitivity to gross over-policing dates back to the Republican National Convention in St. Paul in early September, 2008, when the police appeared armed and very dangerous to quell protests. Who can forget the gunboats in the Mississippi River at St. Paul, supposedly there to protect against river assaults by protestors? This was a very bad time in our town.

This and following from Greg and Sue Skog, at time of Peace Island Event described below Sep 2008.

This and following from Greg and Sue Skog, at time of Peace Island Event described below Sep 2008.


There was a single garish reminder of that time in the funeral procession of hundreds of police vehicles last week: One of those monster anti-something vehicles came up the street along with the normal police cars.
It did not fit.
It stood out. Very negatively.
Grace was a leader in the successful campaign to replace the then-Ramsey County Sheriff with a much more positive Sheriff, Matt Bostrom, in 2010. We see the difference every time there is an incident here. Tone is extremely important.
Like last weeks overwhelmingly positive tribute to police, this weeks overwhelmingly negative indictment of police overreach in Ferguson MO is a time to reflect, and Grace Kelly provides the opportunity to those who will look at her proposal. Please do.
Every single one of us can make a positive difference, where we live.
Comment
from Greg H, Aug 15:
A year ago or so I caught the testimony of a local police chief before a Congressional committee. In part, he chronicled the increase in fire power of the weapons issued to his patrol officers, in a small community.
The latest upgrade was to a weapon similar to that used in the Sandy Hook school shootings.
The police chief explained to the Congressional committee members that the reason for his community spending money to equip patrol officers with more lethal weapons was simply to prevent his officers from being out gunned by the bad people.
Just today we learned the suspect in the murder of the local police officer during a traffic stop had told a woman friend days earlier that he planned to kill a cop. He also told her he had been smoking meth for several days.
As to Ferguson, I prefer to wait for the facts of the confrontation between Mr. Brown and the officer before reaching any conclusions.
Early Sep 2008, Mississippi River, St Paul MN photo by Greg and Sue Skog

Early Sep 2008, Mississippi River, St Paul MN photo by Greg and Sue Skog


POSTSCRIPT:
Here are my memories, written September 8, 2008, in the aftermath of the heavily militarized security at the 2008 Republican National Convention in St. Paul MN. Personally, I walked in the major protest march (peacefully), but most of my time was in a major Peace Island Conference a group of us had organized which ran for the two days of the Convention, about three miles from the Republican Convention site. Our conference was so peaceful that even activist media didn’t cover us – the drama was down the street at the Xcel Center where the Republicans were meeting.
A GREAT END TO A LESS THAN STELLAR WEEK IN THE TWIN CITIES
This past Thursday, Sep 4, shortly after noon, I decided to deliver a large box of unused “Vote in Honor of a Veteran” buttons back to the Minnesota Secretary of State’s office, which is near the State Capitol Building (Watch for a future post on those buttons). When I arrived there, the youth protest gathering was commencing at the Capitol steps, and there were plenty of assorted kinds of police in evidence. But all was quiet.
I parked in front of the State Office Building, put on the warning flashers, got the large box out of the back seat, and began to walk up the front steps. A Minnesota State Trooper came out from behind a pillar, with his soft drink in hand, and I said I was going to the Secretary of State’s office. “Got a bomb in there?”, he said in an off-handed almost joking manner, and didn’t even venture a look inside the box (I guess I didn’t look like a terrorist), I went in, dropped off the box, and left. (Somebody could probably cite him for dereliction of duty, but for me he was the good face of the police this past week.) I decided not to stay for the demo, since I wanted to get over to the Peace Island Picnic, and legal places to park was an issue where I was, and it would have been a long walk to and from.
Driving my route to get to Harriet Island, I went down Chestnut Street, below the Xcel Center, and there were swarms of police preparing for the afternoon duty (today’s paper says there were apparently 3700 police in all, marshalled for the Republicans party in the twin cities – obscene overkill in my opinion.) Shepard Road was open, more police, and Jackson Street, and Kellogg to the Wabasha Bridge, and when I got to Harriet (now and forever more Peace) Island at 1 p.m. there was a great plenty of quality parking. There were few people in evidence, plenty of room to park, and a huge plenty of hotdogs, pork, cake, and on and on and on. It looked like it would be heaven for someone looking for a free meal (and it was). There was a box for contributions towards the event cost, and I hope they did well on collecting. (Coleen Rowley’s acknowledgements to all those who contributed their talent to Peace Island Picnic follow this text.)
Down on the river bank at Peace Island it was a chilly afternoon, overcast, breezy, maybe in the 60s. But it was about perfect for a gathering in many ways.
The Rowley’s were there, and, initially, perhaps 100 of us strolling around, and then the music gig began, first with Larry Long, no stranger to folks in these parts, joined by Pete Seeger’s grandson, Tao Rodriguez-Seeger, for a medley of songs beginning with Down by the Riverside, then This Land is Your Land, then Lonesome Valley, and on. The two musicians by themselves were phenomenal, the power for the speakers and instruments was solar (and stellar), and even in the overcast worked impeccably all afternoon.
The afternoon was off to a great start. In my initial planning for participation in the Picnic, I was going to stop by for awhile, go home, and come back later in the afternoon to help be part of the giant peace sign. But it was such a mellow place, this Peace Island, that I decided to stay the day.
I went back to the car to get my outdoor canvas chair, and settled in by the flagpole to the 9-11 victims, just to the musicians left, and with a clear view of the river. I was ready to settle in for one of the most relaxed afternoons I’ve ever had.
There could not have been a more peaceful place than Peace Island this day. The crowd grew, but slowly.
Tuesday’s Robot, a really good local group, followed Larry and Tao, and they were to be followed by a continuous succession of musicians all afternoon; there was some great jam session music going on as the afternoon progressed. I counted up to 15 musicians together at one point in the afternoon.
There were some bizarre twists, to be sure.
Patrolling the river just beyond the musicians was a gun boat – I kid you not – a Coast Guard vessel with mounted machine guns fore and aft. It appeared to be protecting the tour boat Johnathan Padelford as it carried passengers, probably delegates to the RNC, up and down the Mighty Mississippi. It was so bizarre as to be funny. (It’s in the slide show I previously sent.) I guess you never know what “tear-wrists” are going to be gunnin’ up or down the river to take out whomever…maybe that’s why George and Dick didn’t show in the twin cities.
At one early point, four SUVs ominously drove down a sidewalk in our area, all full of police, one with the back door open, as if they were preparing to raid our small assemblage, but they just slowly moved on.
To our west, a bunch of the police gathered, apparently for their souvenir photo, with, it seemed, the downtown St. Paul Skyline probably behind them. The gunboat arrived, apparently to be part of this photo op of “what I did on my vacation”.
Around 6 or so we all assembled into a giant peace sign. I’ve seen the photograph of all of us in this peace sign, and I’m sure that in a short time it will be published on Huffington Post or maybe even here on P&J. It was a very clear shot. I could even make out myself, on the back portion of the circle, a few folks to the right of the upright portion of the peace sign.
Together, Peace Island Conference and Peace Island Picnic turned out to be phenomenal and totally peaceful events. Together, they merited only the tiniest bit of news coverage – Peace Island Conference with 350 registrants none at all; Peace Island Picnic with about 1000 meriting only a few dismissive and inaccurate comments in the Pioneer Press On-line edition, bad enough so that a correction was apparently printed this morning in the print edition of the paper.
The message is “if it bleeds, it leads”. The anarchists, hated as they are by so-called ‘civil society’, were essential to the police state mentality that became St. Paul and Minneapolis this past week. Those anarchists should get thank you notes from the Republican Party, and the powers-that-be in our town. Without them, there wouldn’t have been any news. And while they’re writing thank you notes, maybe the likely abundant agents provacateurs should be on the thank you list as well. One of the persons on the march who was doing lots of photography, was quite certain she saw one person who had been egging on the Iraq Vets Against the War during the Labor Day protest march, breaking a window later in the downtown area – if so, he was probably arrested, and quietly released….
For us, the mantra for each of us has to become “I am the Media”. It is of absolutely no value to kvetch about what they aren’t doing. We have to become, as Gandhi said, ‘the change we wish to see in the world’. There is no alternative.
Let Peace Island become a continuing part of our conversation for sanity in our country and world.
From Coleen Rowley, Sep 6, 2008:
Wow!! Really good, Mr. Bernard! I’d like to forward the photos to my list too. I’m going to copy Mr. McGovern, Ann Wright, Tao, Larry Long, Sara Thomsen and Emma’s Revolution also as they figure in a few of your pictures.
If only there’d been a little more sunlight for the picnic. I think the cold weather was perhaps as much of a deterrent as the RNC bridge closings/traffic problems and the police intimidation.
With just a couple of “no-shows”, most of the info about musicians on our website turned out correct. Neither Clyde Bellecourt nor Dorene Gray made it for the opening water ceremony. And Mitch Walking Elk didn’t make it either. But I think everyone else listed did. The solar panel trailer was from Minnesota Renewables. David Boyce is the contact and as a power source, it worked absolutely great. The sound system was run by Doug Lohman of the Armadillo Sound Co. and it also got big compliments. (David Rovics had sung at the “March on the RNC” which didn’t have a good sound system and he said Doug’s was top notch. Doug used to do the sound for years at St. Joans.) The great grilled pork was made by Brian Huseby and his brother on their unbelievably large but portable grill. They grilled about 275 pounds of pork roast and 1200 hotdogs and almost all was eaten. (We did have a lot of buns left tho’.) We got free barbeque sauce from the Ken Davis company; donated French bread from New French Bakery; baked vegetarian beans at cost from Java Live in Faribault and also donated fruit from Co-op Warehouse and coffee from Equal Exchange.
We just had a great committee who did this all—not a lot of meetings—I think the grand total was only six—but we divvied up tasks well according to each person’s unique expertise.
Guess what? Tao already committed to coming back if, God forbid, St. Paul should ever host another RNC and we need to try and return to good neighborliness and sanity. Coleen R.