Christmas began with a string.

It was a thick cotton string. Well worn and looked as if passed down from generation to generation. It had one purpose only. To connect from corner to opposite corner up above in our little East L A living room. The string was taken out of the Christmas paraphernalia box each year to hang across the living room ceiling to hang Christmas cards over like fresh washed laundry. Cards from as far away as Wilson Oklahoma, Portland Oregon, Bakersfield California, and nearby Long Beach California. Cards depicting scenes like little houses in a field of snow with wafting smoke from the chimney. Cards with either three wise men silhouetted on camels by a bright evening star or a baby lying in a manger amongst mother Mary and his father Joseph. Some cards were hand signed or a few were printed with the family names. My favorite cards showed a snow covered home with sled and reindeer atop the roof with Santa with bag of toys stepping down into the chimney.

But I will have to admit me being about eight-years old couldn’t easily read the names on the inside of each card. Just too high above for me to read.

So, my next best thing to do was to grab the Sears Roebuck Christmas Catalogue and find the pages showing all the electric train sets. Just wishing and hoping I might get a train set for Christmas. It worked. Christmas of 1952 Santa brought me a set with oval track, an engine with coal car, boxcar, cattlecar, flatcar, and caboose, and an electric transformer. It was all set up under the Christmas tree that morning and it was a big Christmas surprise. Merry Christmas!

How many of you would like to move to Russia?

Let’s see a show of hands. If you do many rights and privileges will be taken away. Russia is an autocratic governed country. A political system some here recently would like to switch to. Getting rid of democracy as a result. Speak ill of the autocratic government and you might be poisoned or put in prison. Just as they do in Russia or maybe China and possibly Iran or North Korea.

I’ll stick with American democracy. Our former president, who says the election was stolen, would prefer a total autocratic government. Only he and his butt kissing lackeys would have privileges. The rest of us would lose many rights and freedoms. The Money Class would rule the working class. To hell with the Constitution. We would return to building big beautiful walls. Immigration from any country would come to a halt. Diversity would be a thing of the past. Social benefits would be taken away. No thought would be given to taking children from their parents at the southern border.

Is this what we want? Do we want autocracy? Would we rather live in Russia? How about living in China where they have millions of facial recognition cameras watching your every move and listening to every word. Autocracy is not fun. More like oppressive. No more we the people. Get rid of that Liberty statue in New York Harbor. Does this sound to alarmist? Move to Russia and discover it all for yourself. None the less Russia would be better off under the old Soviet system.

So, which will it be? Black? Or white?

The fickle ‘Fashion Police’ is out on patrol. Do you remember the old TV police program titled “1-Adam-12? It was produced by Jack Webb(of Dragnet fame). It was about two LAPD patrol officers seemingly on perpetual patrol. But one distinguishing feature was their navy blue uniform accented by a white crew neck T-shirt under their dark blue uniform shirt. I had witnessed this when I use to stop at McDonalds in L A. McDonalds was the go-to-place for L A Cops. “To Serve and Protect.”

But anyway, I always noticed their white crew neck T-shirts. And the point here is my wife told me I must wear a crew neck T-shirt under my Polo and button up shirts. I did this as directed by her. She wanted me to cover up my gnarly looking gray chest hair that coils from my chest like a briar patch as described in the story of Brer Rabbit.

So, I bought a big package of white crew neck T-shirts and wore one under my shirt to cover my woolyman chest hairs. Doing what she had instructed.

Then just recently she was horrified by the appearance of a white T-shirt under my outer shirt. No no no she sternly enunciated. “You must wear black crew neck T-shirts. Black crew neck T-shirts? What do I do with all these white T-shirts?Black! Black! It’s what all the men are wearing these days. No more white! No more white? Does fashion ever settle on one thing and stay there? NO!!! Fashion is forever changing. It is what it does. And fashion has a sufficient police force. “You have the right to remain silent.” So, just shut-up! Fashion belongs to the police. Not to the wearer.

Conversation between local indigenous neighbors about the illegal Pilgrim People.

“They were like uninvited foreign aliens. Undocumented people looking for food and a place to live. They came with no papers or visas. They don’t even speak our language or know our social customs. Where did they come from and why are they here? They seem smelly and diseased. Is there anyway we can deport them or send them back from where they came? Oh so disgusting. Why would people of a different color come here? They certainly don’t look like us and whats with those stupid looking buckles on their moccasins? The neighbors call them undocumented Pilgrims. Mama, take the kids inside and lock the doors.”

My late mother-in-law was the consumate Granny.

There wasn’t one of her grandkids who just couldn’t help but love her. And the reason being was she loved all her grandkids unconditionally. Whenever they came she would drop whatever she was doing and fix them a sandwich or waffle or pour them a bowl of cereal. She had peanut and M&M dispensers all over the house. An endless supply of cookies on top of the refrigerator. She had toys for the younger grandkids to play with. Grandma would do the laundry and iron for the older adult kids. Plus babysit the great grandkids. She did Grandmothering with all her energy.

Every once in a while she would ask me if I would like to go to Sam’s Club with her. Going to Sam’s Club was her ‘outreach’ program. We would drive to Sam’s Club and she wanted to show me everything they had in the store. Most of all she liked to visit with the ‘Sample Ladies.’ You know the older women who would be slicing cheese and giving out samples. Or frying up little sausages and handing them out on a tooth pick. And at any given time there would be at least a dozen sample ladies doling out eatable wares all over the store. No, she didn’t go there for the free samples but to visit the ladies who were mostly her age. She just wanted to chat. Talk about the ladies kids or grandkids. Any subject would do. She just wanted to know what women her age were doing and saying. And without question she really did want to know. This was her personal social club and social hour. If churches wanted to attract more older people they would recruit ‘Sample Ladies’ and place them all over the church.

Anyway our visits to Sam’s took a good hour or more. But I was happy to go because it made her feel good about herself. Glad to tag along.

Butchy the Chicken Whisperer. Chap 9.

Being a Chicken Whisperer that wears glasses I am often speckling up my lenses. I hate to stop and clean my lenses. It’s troublesome. I have to go inside and hold them under running warm water and moosh in some hand soap. Then rinse them off and dry them off. So to say the least I wait until I can barely see through the speckled spots and blowing chicken yard debris. Therefore I wouldn’t have to do this laborious work if I were a singing cowboy like Roy Rogers or Hoop Gibson. Those guys don’t wear glasses. My older but meaner sister doesn’t wear glasses. Clarabelle the clown doesn’t wear glasses. So, why should I? But my mom told me I had to wear glasses. Dang it all anyway!

Never the less, speaking of soap, I was playing with Jimmy Vasquez a few days ago. Jimmy is in my second grade at school. He lives down at the end of the street near the railroad tracks. So he often comes up to my house to play soldiers. We sometimes push and shove each other. Wrestle each other to the ground. But with wearing glasses they sometimes fall off. And sometimes break. But this time my glasses fell off but didn’t break. So I push Jimmy very hard and he pushes me back very hard. All of which made me very mad. So I called Jimmy a stupid Jackass. My go to word when I’m very angry. However the unfortunate thing at that time my mom was on the porch and heard me say the word, “Jackass.” So she calls out my real name. “Charles Ronald, come inside now!” At that moment I knew I was in big trouble. So Jimmy went home and I went inside.

My mom says I’m going to teach you to never say naughty words. At which point I thought she was going out to the backyard and get a switch off the peach tree but takes me into the bathroom instead. There she takes me to the bathroom sink and turns on the cold water. Then grabs a bar of Ivory soap, commands me to open my mouth, and proceeds to stick the soapy bar in my mouth. ‘I’ll teach you to not speak naughty words, she barks. So I am bubbling and gagging all the while she’s telling me she is washing out my mouth to get rid of the bad words I recently had spoken. “Don’t you ever say that word again,” she continues. “Just you wait until your daddy hears about this.” He’ll whip you good with his belt.” I’d be ashamed of you young man” she rails on. So I am hunched over the sink bubbling and spitting. All the while my glasses are soapy and smudged. Dang! I blurt. I just cleaned my glasses. Now look at them. But before I can pull away from the sink, my mom once again inserts the soap back into my mouth. “Don’t you ever say Dang again. You hear me boy. Bubble, gag, spit I respond. “Now clean up your mess young man,” she insists.

Jumping jingle bells! Have you ever eaten a bar of soap? If you had, you must have said something bad yourself. Right?

How did this Thanksgiving scenario get started?

History has its ways of becoming mixed up in a sociological/psychological/political electric blender. Ending up as oil and water glop. Coming out the other end as something not recognizable.

So here we have, as related by various amateur historians the story of Thanksgiving. Re-written to suit multiple cultures. European and Indigenous. Pilgrims meets aboriginals.

First my own observation. Have you ever seen Plymouth Rock? Story goes the Pilgrims after reaching New England on the Mayflower they stepped off onto Plymouth Rock as their anchoring point. My first visit to Plymouth, Massachusetts I noticed the rock they called Plymouth Rock was in a pillared shrine near Plymouth Beach’s parking lot. A fair distance from the Atlantic coastline. However, for convenience, the Chamber of Commerce might have moved the tiny rock inland for tourist reasons. To my eyes the famous stepping off rock almost looks inconsequential. A bit smallish and not worthy of such puffed up lore. Looking down in the rock’s shrine one thinks, “Is that all there is?” It couldn’t be more than five feet long and two feet wide. Possibly weighing less than a ton. But the lore suggests it is more like the Rock of Gibraltar or like California’s rock in the Morro Bay. Nope. Not at all.

But anyway, we will correctly describe the newcomers from Europe as the Intruders and the native people as indigenous citizens. First of all, the Intruders came without Visas or papers. Absolutely uninvited and later unwelcomed. Especially since the Intruders brought with them virus and disease. Something the Indigenous folks had no antibodies. Absolutely no reason for celebrating Thanksgiving. None the less, what might have been the first third Thursday in November the Intruders spent onboard their rickety old converted wooden freighter the Mayflower. People cramp and sickly. No Thanksgiving here.

But once the Intruders started to mingle with the Indigenous people both quickly discovered they had very little in common. Maybe that the Intruders were very hungry and the Indigenous had food and knew how to grow food. Both a common interest.

But as time passed the Intruders discovered they had landed in the wrong place. Their intended destination was to navigate south near the mouth of the Hudson River. A bit warmer and a bit friendlier to uninvited Intruders. Maybe at the time and destination they celebrated Thanksgiving. Not really sure.

But anyway as the Intruders muscled their way inland and took Indigenous’ land the Intruders found reason to celebrate Thanksgiving. Never the less, I have no clue where that Pilgrim/turkey/corn growing thing came from. Write your own scenario. Happy Thanksgiving. Eat well and hardy.

Miles Standish was born too soon.

Here is what the Pilgrim women folk didn’t have on their Thanksgiving menu.

A Butterball turkey bronzed, succulent, and deliciously stuffed. With a side of giblet gravy over fluffed mashed potatoes. Fluffed with real creamery grade A butter with sea salt and fresh ground black pepper. Then the forever requested and ubiquitous green bean casserole crunchy and creamy in all the right places. A large platter of candied yams with brown sugar and with melted marshmallows. A serving bowl of sweetened cooked carrots side by side with cooked whole kernel corn. A serving platter of hand prepared deviled eggs. Then another platter of sliced and cut veggie sticks. Carrots, celery, bell pepper. Crunchy and toasted bread stuffing. Another platter with black and green olives, avocado slices, cherry tomatoes, and jalapeno peppers. And to add to the veggie assortment a full green salad. Rings of onions, sliced tomato, three kinds of lettuce and dressings. A iron skillet filled with golden brown cornbread. Sweet brown and serve dinner rolls. Two trays of real butter and/or Smart-balance margarine. Sweetened and unsweetened ice tea. Plus grandma’s best china, Cristal glassware, and silverware. All atop her best linen table cloth and linen napkins.

This is not to mention pies, cookies, sweetbreads, poppy seed cake, and grandma’s favorite banana pudding with vanilla wafers. Oh yes! Fresh ground and brewed coffee. Whew!

Both the Right and Left are wrong.

I have been both a registered Republican and a Democrat. But now neither speaks for me because I think for the most part both are missing the point.

The point being is what most Americans want and need. Needing good health care, public education, good paying jobs, improvement and repair of infrastructure, clean environment, and most of all elected officials who can for the most part agree with the voting citizens.

But as it is we have people on the left that think All Americans want is a third school bathroom for transgender people and for the Federal government to pay for their metamorphism. Let them pay for their own transitions. Non-binaries suck it in.

People on the Right should let women make their own decisions about their physiology. To deny this is to reverse women’s rights back to when women couldn’t vote. A really stupid thing to do. Let women decide for themselves.

The conservative politician knows where their votes and money comes from. Religionists who have no influence over their own parishioners so they recruit politicians to do their bidding for them. Neither really interested in preventing abortion but one depends upon the other for votes and the other for money. Creating very strange ‘bed-fellows.’

Once again, ignoring the everyday issues facing all Americans. Americans wanting clean renewable energy, easy and affordable access to the Internet, consumer protections against unscrupulous banks and lenders, , help with natural disasters, better and faster public transportation, affordable housing for the homeless, and more. Issues most politicians seem to ignore. Politicians seem to dwell on issues that alarm, aggravate, and scare constituencies. Politicians who promise Pie-in-the-Sky but deliver ooze from the boy cow’s rear. Vote for the man or woman who you think can deliver results. Vote against the person with the most excuses and points fingers at others.

Autocracy or Democracy?

I am looking, as a registered Independent, at both sides of the political system. A system ruled by the few or by a full representation. What does America need or want? How would you choose? Therefore we need to make a decision on how we are governed. Who or what do we want to be?

Do we want to be a nation all inclusive or a nation ruled by the few? This is irrespective of which party you belong to and is in charge but how we are governed. By Autocracy or democracy?

Do we want just a hand full of leaders telling us how we are to be governed and who is part of the ruling class? Or for us to be represented by a full house and senate reflecting our wishes? Hundreds of representatives acting on behalf of our state and local interests.

So if you are intending to vote in future elections it is your responsibility as a voter to determine which political philosophy bets represents your ideal of America. A country ruled by just a few individuals or by total representation from each district. Forget Republican or Democrats. Vote what you think is best for America, your neighbors, and yourself. As for me, I am voting for a full democracy. I certainly want to be part of the decision making. Don’t want any one or two small groups telling me how to live my life and without my input. Plus the more we include diversity the more competitive, stronger, and more capable America will be.

Think of it this way: Could you imagine sitting down to a meal everyday just with meatloaf and potatoes? A meal without the benefit of Mexican food, Chinese food, Italian, German, French, or a good Ruben or Cuban sandwich? Will it be pizza or just potato chips every day? How dull it would be with the same thing day after day. Diversity is key and the answer.

Democracy is where we began as a nation and Democracy is where we need to be now. God bless America and the rest of the world.