It’s Veteran’s Day. Please take a moment to say a prayer of
thanks to those who serve, now and in the past. If you’re not the praying type
simply be thankful and find a way to express it.
* * *
Well, there’s a first time for everything.
I posted what follows on my Facebook pages yesterday because
it was an uplifting experience in a time of great angst, both personally and
for many of us in the social and political climate that exists today:
...It's one thing,
and an important thing, when a candidate comes to your door and asks for
support.
It's another when
one shows up after the election to thank you for supporting him.
It just doesn't
happen. They may call. They may write a note. That's terrific, truly. But they
don't knock after winning, in my experience. Until tonight, that is, when PJ Biscontini showed up at my door in the freezing cold to
thank me for supporting him in his run for Plains Township Commissioner.
We talked quite a
while and with each passing, freezing cold minute, I was more impressed.
Does America
still produce great young people? Well, this young man is your proof. There are
great things in store for him one day. I never voted for anyone other than a
Republican once I was elected to County Committee. I believe, as my good friend
Renita Fennick taught me, you either belong to something or you don't. I did,
and I did so passionately.
Now, I am
unaffiliated. An island of one. I take each person as I find them, and if they
measure up I will vote for them not because they do or don't belong to a
party... but because they are the best person for the job. PJ is the first
Democrat I have voted for in a long, long time.
Keep your eye on
PJ. He loves Plains, professes to have no higher ambitions, but fate has a
funny way of tapping the talents of the best of us. You've heard this before,
and it's a cliché, but it's also true: This guy's going places.
* * *
I am reading A Life In Parts by Bryan Cranston, a birthday present by Popki. It is a surprisingly
good read (I am not one for celebrity books) and it has managed to stir a lot
of old memories of my childhood. Some good. Some probably forgotten for good
reason. He paints his life in a series of small snippets …scenes, if you will
…and I am enjoying it immensely.
* * *
The Harvey Weinstein story has opened the floodgates. Every
day another powerful person stands accused of anything from sexual harassment to
sexual assault. It’s become the shark attack story of 2017, with one critical
difference: The sharks aren’t along isolated stretches of beach here and there
being sensationalized by the media. No, not one bit.
These damned sharks are everywhere. It’s going to get worse,
because America is a gigantic beach for these particular predators.
Our sexuality is complicated because the drive to procreate
is deeply instilled within us. Keeping the species going is kind of important. Most
of us learn to master or at the very least control our sexuality. But for
others, especially when power …political, economic or career …is involved, a
beast is unleashed.
Yes, we all flirt, some just a little bit, and some quite a lot.
Most of the time it is harmless, and we pretty much stick to the rules. A man compliments
an attractive lady on her dress, and perhaps smiles just a few seconds longer than
usual. A woman leans in close and lightly touches a man’s arm during
conversation. But the game has rules, and most people instinctively adhere to
them. We don’t wag our genitals at the opposite sex as a display of power or
force ourselves on others.
Those transgressions are no problem for powerful sharks.
What they do is indefensible. The sharks aren’t just the rich, powerful and
famous we read about each day. There are probably some in every community.
Perhaps this will be a watershed moment when predatory behavior becomes
intolerable. One can hope. Our very nature, however, makes this a problem for
all generations. I don’t know what the solution is, but perhaps a start is
recognizing that we’ve lost our way. We are flirting with total hedonism, where
anything goes and personal responsibility no longer exists. We can hope that we’re turning a corner.
Again, one can hope. I’m not ready to give up on us. I hope you’re not, either.
* * *
The NFL kneeling thing.
I fully support the player’s rights to kneel during the
anthem. I also fully support the choice of those offended to boycott the NFL if
they see fit. It’s America. Have at it.
If I ran the NFL, I’d have seen this coming after last year.
I’d have simply reworked the pregame festivities a mite. The players would come
out after the anthem.
Simple solutions seem to escape the NFL Commissioner, but it
is his League to run as he sees fit. He’s stuck for the rest of this season,
but the damage has been done. Everyone is losing here.
I understand what the players involved are trying to do. But
you don’t build widespread support for a cause by alienating large chunks of
the population. You find a way to get everyone behind you. It’s a hell of a lot
harder. It’s not flashy. But it works.
I remember when drunk driving was something that was
accepted as part of the way things were. When we were kids, we used to shout “Happy
Jack! Happy Jack!” whenever our parents ended up behind a drunk driver.
I also
remember driving home one night in the late 70’s/early 80's and coming around a bend in
Kingston Township to find a car blocking both lanes of the road. A man was passed
out behind the wheel and his car, still running, was resting, unscratched,
against the guard rail. I knocked on a nearby door and asked a man who opened
his second floor window to call the police. When they arrived, they thought it
was funny. (I think they knew the guy.)
As they put him in the cruiser (one officer to
drive him home, the other to drive his car) I realized my car battery had died.
I’d left the lights on so anyone coming around the curve had some warning that
there was an issue. When I asked for a jump, I got some grief from one of the
officers who grumbled while he helped me get my car going again. I never forgot
that. I was the pain in the ass and the guy bombed behind the wheel of his car
was a source of amusement (who got a ride home and a free car drop-off).
Hey, he was just a Happy Jack.
Things started to change when a
California mother, Cari Lightner, lost her daughter to a drunk driver who hit her
13-year old and left her dead at the scene. The driver was a repeat DUI hit and
run offender.
This devastated mother started Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD). Over time, society’s views on
driving impaired shifted dramatically. The days of the police being the
designated driver for a DUI are, I believe, long, long behind us.
That’s how it’s done, folks. When you see something
drastically wrong, you work hard to bring everyone on board. Unify, don’t
divide. That’s the lesson that isn’t being heeded. That’s what the NFL players need
to do.
* * *
I’ve prattled enough.
Be good to each other.
* * *
