The Hicks Place

I Won't Always Be Here!

Last night I attended the annual alumni banquet of my high school.  It was the 58th since my graduation.  I may have written here before about how small my school was, there being only 8 in my graduating class and that 4 of those, all girls, joined us in our senior year having consolidated from a neighboring small school just across the county line.  Now, only 3 of the 8 remain and only Richard and I were at the banquet.  Of course since we graduated a subsequent consolidation took place and now there is no school in that community; the students living in the township now are bused to a consolidation with 4 other schools and ride nearly 20 miles as  opposed to the 5 miles of my time. 

I now live 60 plus miles away from that small farming community and there is a huge void between our lives as schoolmates and our present situations, except that then we were all full of life's expectancies and now we all experience its decline.  For one evening it gives us comfort to catch up on where we now live, what our children are doing, how we feel and what maladies we suffer, but more than anything we just enjoy remembering our times together as youth.  Not all of those experiences were wonderful and pleasant at the time but most of our memories are of the exciting and happy times.  For an evening, together we are young again.   

During the night there was a strong thunderstorm with the strong wind lashing rain at the windows.  In our neighborhood a large tree limb was blown onto the roof of a nearby house.  This evening it is pleasant and cooler, an enjoyable time to be out of doors enjoying the songs of the birds and the beauty of our surroundings.  The earth endures.  One day it is a frightening and destructive place, the next it is beautiful and tranquil.

I am thankful for these evenings, for being able to see, hear, smell and taste all that is so wonderful around me.  At dusk I seem to be more aware and appreciate the beauty of this earth.  More than ever it is then that I realize I won't always be here.

My Emotions.

Spring is a time of year, perhaps more than any other, when I have highs and lows.  Having grown up on a farm, it brings to me thoughts of new growth, the smell off the earth freshly plowed in preparation for planting.  The smell of honeysuckle and locust trees in bloom, the moist woods and the musk of mushrooms.  A time when today may be sunny and warm, but tomorrow rainy and cold.  But however uncertain the weather of Spring may be there is always the hope and certainty that as time passes there will be more sunshine than clouds and more warmth than bleakness. 

In other words, this is the time of year when my emotions take a roller coaster ride.  This last week has certainly been an extremely wild ride indeed.  Last Sunday afternoon it was sunny and warm here as Marcia and I walked along the banks of the Roanoke River.  I didn't realize how much sun my legs were getting until Monday morning, when the redness from my knees to my ankles stood out in contrast to the whiteness of my thighs and feet.  My outlook on life is always positive at such times.  My soul is at peace when, in the early evening I can watch the lengthening shadows of the sunset, catch a glimpse of sunlight still on the surrounding mountain tops, and feel a gentle warm breeze on my skin as I enjoy daylight softening on our patio or balcony.  Those are the good times for Marcia and me!

Then, more quickly than the good feelings, came death and destruction.  I watched with sadness welling up in my eyes as the television pictures showed the widespread devastation brought across the South by the worst outbreak of tornados in this country since 1925.  At such times, one feels so helpless, as indeed we are because we are at the mercy of the forces of nature, of  weather, earthquake, tsunami; the power that gives us such pleasure at the beauty of mountains, valleys, oceans, rivers, sunsets and sunrises, must inevitably also give us the sorrow of  destruction, loss of property and life.  Then at the end of the week our TV screens were filled with pictures of beauty and love, of a Prince by the simple act of marriage giving a beautiful young lady the title of Princess.  Life promissing renewal. 

My emotions take similar rides as I read.  I guess that is a major reason I do so.  I was lead to "Winter's Bone" by Daniel Woodrell after having recently watched an episode of Anthony Bordain's "No Reservations".  Bordain was in the Ozarks, experiencing the life and food of the hunters and fishers who live there.  He had come there because of his liking of the writings of Woodrell, who was his guide during the filming of that show.  "Winter's Bone" describes the determination of a sixteen year old girl - her dad who "cooks crank" out on bond but missing, her mother who sits as her mind drifts in and out of reality - trying to keep her young brothers in school, fed and clothed and away from the drug society which surrounds them.  Rural poverty.

Then I saw where the 2011 Pulitzer for fiction had been awarded to Jennifer Egan for her book, "A Visit From The Goon Squad".  The characters in the life of Sasha, bound together by their involvement with her or the music industry, their struggles to grow up, each with a "pause" in their life, which either they survive to become better or just live through, or sadly do not.  I think we all have pauses in our lives.  I hadn't thought of life that way before, but it is somehow comforting.  Like a pause in a song, a short time to reflect, and then it continues.

How much more precious life is when we acknowledge how fortunate we are to have survived the pauses.  God help and be with those who are less fortunate than we.   

Progress is great, mostly!

The following is copied from an e-mail I got today from a friend.  If I knew the original source I would give credit here, because these are not my original thoughts.  But it seems to me that whomever the author of this is would not mind my republishing it here.  I hope not.

How wasteful the Older Generation Was ... NOT !!!

 

In line at the store, the cashier told the older woman that she should bring her own grocery bags because plastic bags weren’t good for the environment.  The woman apologized to him and explained, “We didn’t have the green thing back in my day.”

 

The clerk responded, "That's our problem today.  The former generation did not care enough to save our environment."

He was right, that generation didn’t have the green thing in its day. 

 Back then, they returned their milk bottles, soda bottles and beer bottles to the store.  The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, so it could use the same bottles over and over.  So they really were recycled.

But they didn’t have the green thing back in that customer's day.

In her day, they walked up stairs, because they didn’t have an escalator in every store and office building. They walked to the grocery store and didn’t climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time they had to go two blocks.

But she was right. They didn’t have the green thing in her day.

Back then, they washed the baby’s diapers because they didn’t have the throw-away kind. They dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts – wind and solar power really did dry the clothes. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing.

But that old lady is right, they didn’t have the green thing back in her day.

Back then, they had one TV, or radio, in the house – not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a handkerchief, not a screen the size of the state of Montana . In the kitchen, they blended and stirred by hand because they didn’t have electric machines to do everything for you.  When they packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, they used a wadded up old newspaper to cushion it, not styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.

Back then, they didn’t fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. They used a push mower that ran on human power. They exercised by working so they didn’t need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity.

But she’s right, they didn’t have the green thing back then.

They drank from a fountain when they were thirsty instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time they had a drink of water. They refilled their writing pens with ink instead of buying a new pen, and they replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull.

But they didn’t have the green thing back then.

 

Back then, people took the streetcar or a bus and kids rode their bikes to school or rode the school bus instead
of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service. They had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And they didn’t need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.

But isn't it sad that the current generation laments how wasteful the old folks were just because they didn't have the green thing back then???

 

Racing Through Life

FDR had a year left in his first term when I was born in the heart of the Great Depression.  I cast my first vote for President for Dwight Eisenhower.  He gave us the Interstate Highways System which allowed trucks to replace trains and crowd passenger vehicles so that every year more I-routes have to be built, widened and repaired, leaving not enough money to improve rapid transit and public transportation.  Interstates allow us to "see the USA in your Toyota" (not Chevrolet) without seeing the poverty in our cities and rural areas but enjoying the scenery as it flashes by at 75 miles an hour. 

We didn't elect some very good men, Adlai Stevenson, Hubert Humphrey, Walter Mondale,  Al Gore, and one good woman, Hillary Clinton.  We did elect Nixon, an actor, and a C student from Yale.  But the best President we have had in my time was a haberdasher from Missouri, who really understood and fought for the common man because he was one of us.

However, the worst may be yet to come, one that may Trump all the others.  Yes, none other than the "Donald".  It makes me cringe evertime I hear his name, and regret mine.  How anyone can believe that he is in any way qualified is beyond my comprehension!  Furthermore, Race Fans, he has been selected to drive the pace car for the 100th anniversary of the Indy 500!  If I didn't already have my ticket, I wouldn't go!  And believe me, the fans around me in turn 3 will hear my disapproval when he drives by!

Some more history

Today, 70 years ago, the British forces in Libya were attacked by the German Afrika corps commanded by General Rommel, who would later be unsuccessful in an attempt to assassinate Hitler.  Rommel would carry a bomb in his briefcase to a planning meeting with Hitler and others, place the briefcase under the table they were all standing around, then shortly excuse himself and leave the room.  The bomb exploded, Hitler and others were injured, but a concrete support under the table sheilded the Fuhrer from the major force of the blast.  Had Rommel placed the briefcase on the other side of the support, the 20 July, 1944 assassination attempt would likely have succeded, as would the coup which was planned to follow, and WW II in Europe would have then ended.   

Thanks to Dan Carpenter's column in todays Indianapolis Star, I have become aware of the poetry of Etheridge Knight, who served time in an Indiana prison for stealing a womans purse in 1960 to support his heroin addiction, later acheived acclaim for his poetry, written in prison and thereafter, and died in Indianapolis 20 years ago this month.

And now, we are getting snow flurries in Indianapolis.

 

Right Now, Woolf Has Got Me!

I am so conscious now of my thoughts, how they wander, and that I actually do form an opinion in my mind, though fleetingly and of no real significance or accuracy, about persons around me or just appearing briefly in my minds eye, or of a scene or situation present or recalled.  Last night, as we (Marcia and I) were having dinner at our favorite casual place, waiting patiently for the game to start, enjoying our bar food and drink, talking about our day, the fact that it was our wedding aniversary but we were really going to celebrate it today instead of then when our evening was filled with going to the play which Emily was in at her school, and then the lateness of the game, I found myself evaluating the situation of the group at the table next to us. 

All of us in the room were drawn together by our interest in the coming game, the common wish for a Butler win, the excitement and anticipation was evident in the good mood apparent on our often smiling faces. 

Already, when we sat down, there were five young men at the next table, obviously either Butler students or recent graduates, devouring sandwiches with onion rings and beer, having conversation which my hearing could not detect over the noise of the surroundings.  An older woman, perhaps the mother of the one she sat down by, was the first to join them.  I had finished my martini, Marcia her wine, it was still a half hour until game time, we ordered a beer, and young women began to join their men at the next table.  The first was a striking, slender faced blond with large eyes, a short, well proportioned frame, fashionably dressed in fur topped brown boots, not too tight black leggings, a long beige sweater cinched at the waist with a black tie.  Even before I saw her, the young man with the most sensitive face of the group, of similar complexion to the girl, rose quickly to his feet, came out from behind the table and met his girl, drew her close and they kissed gently before moving back to the table to sit facing us.  As they sat down, the diamond on her finger was quite noticeable.  She greeted all at the table with a sweet smile, all the young men obviously admired her, their eyes showing that her beauty was not unnoticed.  She engaged easily in their conversation while leaning on the shoulder of her chosen one, he proud to have her there, raising his esteem in the presence of his peers. 

Soon, two more attractive but less striking young women, with darker hair, darker eyes and complexions, less fashionably dressed in jeans and t-shirts but also with diamonds on their fingers joined the group, so that only two of the young men were left without a special intended mate. 

Marcia and I talked about my sons, about the book she was reading, the girls ordered drinks and sandwiches; my attention returned to the TV with its experts pontificating the special skills, shooting ability, size, athleticism, and likely outcome of the game to follow.

All eyes were on the pictures flashing across the large screens, high on the wall at the end of the room.  Our hopes, confidence, and anticipation that Butler would win were increasing.  At first the game was the center of our common attention, but later I noticed the blond seemed more engaged in texting, and texting, and texting.   Our eyes were up, her's were down, looking at the little device she held in the palm of her ringed hand.  Commercials allowed, one by one, persons rising and walking to the end of the room to dispose of beer imbibed.  The special one returned to the table and, midst short bursts of interest and comment, returned to the little device in her hand.

What is her future and his, will time enrich or diminish that love in their eyes?  What was the importance of communicating with some other one while he was engrossed in the game?  At half time, she and  one of the other girls disappeared and did not return.  Were they concerned about some need to study for a class, perhaps and exam or paper due today? 

I began to fret as Butler seemed to lose their momentum and the game became close.  Marcia and I sat, side by side, yelling, clapping, admonishing the Butler team on to success.   In the end we were happy, the outcome what we wanted, tiredly we came home to bed. 

I hope the lovers are happy.  I hope they have made the right choices, that love lasts, that their admiration, respect, faith and trust in each other continues until death does them part. 

Of course, Virginia would have made this evening and its events, its thoughts much more interesting, detailed, nuanced, thought provoking and fulfilling to read and contemplate. 

It is 42 degrees now, earlier the sun was shining but now the grey clouds of winter have returned.  At least now my flower beds are cleared of leaves, they are fertilized and weed prevention has been put down, the service came this week and applied the early Spring treatment to the lawn.  Now I am waiting for the last (hopefully) plastic pipe joint cement to cure so that I can finish installing the new chrome fixtures in the hall bath upstairs, completing Marcia's redecorating project.  She has design and decorating visions and skill, but I always complain about any way that I am involved, until it is done and I see the outcome which she foresaw. 

I am "Ralph Denham"

I did not read a lot of fiction until I began a quest a couple of years ago to read all of the Pulitzer Prize winners.  Well, when I was growing up I loved the Hardy Boy books and I did read Ben Hur during an illness in my teens. Other fiction was read because it was assigned in high school or college, but with an occasional exception I turned more to biography and current affairs as an adult.  Then, a few years ago I realized that my political interests were only causing my blood pressure to rise, so I turned mostly to fiction.  

Many years ago I decided that there is a reason for our meeting all of the people in our lives.  That was the theme in fact of a book I read in the '90's, the title of which now escapes me.  These meetings bring new ideas and observations valuable to us, but we need to be alert and on the lookout for them.  I have extended this idea to what I read and thereby have been lead to a new experience I would otherwise have missed.

Example:  Knowing me as he does, my friend Dean suggested that I read Citizens of London by Lynne Olson.  In that book is this one small statement, which I do not have permission to quote but will-  ..." After delivering a talk over the BBC in 1937, Virginia Woolf described its milieu as "sad and discreet" and "oh so proper, oh so kindly."  Now this sentence might not have held any significance for me at all had it not  contained the word "milieu".  This word came into my vocabulary a few years ago from my wife, Marcia, and it is one we often use with each other because we love the way it sounds, and it always brings a smile to our faces when we pronounce it.  You have to pucker your lips out at the end in doing so, which also adds a comic effect.  So I decided to look up and read something written byVirginia Woolf .  I must say I was probably also influenced in doing so by the movie "Who is afraid of Virginia Woolf", which I saw many years ago but never really knew why or who might be afraid of her.

So I came to read  Night and Day .  Please do not follow this link if you intend to read the book, as I do not want to spoil it for you.  Marcia will attest that she has never seen me so enthralled.  It made such an impression that I am about to reveal myself here, as I seldom do because it makes me feel vulnerable.  I must confess that I identified myself with the character of Ralph almost immediately upon his appearance.  He is a romantic, he places Katharine upon a pedestal without even knowing her, and is forever smitten.  I am a Libra, and I truly fit almost all of the characteristics commonly associated with that sign.  I too became in love with Katharine, although not at first and because I feared that Ralph was destined to be disappointed.  The book also has its humorous moments mostly provided by Katharine's mother.

That fear and expectation is likely due to my young manhood experiences.  I had crushes, often on women older than me, but also on those I first desired.  While reading the book I found my mind went back to a girl my age who went to the same church as I, but a diferent school.  I "loved" her before we were old enough to date, but later we did date, once.  She had an older brother and sister who probably both were well aware of my fascination with her.  I may have not yet been old enough to drive, because this one and only date was with another couple.  I don't even remember who they were, but I guess we went to a movie.  On the way home we were sitting in the back seat and carrying on a conversation with the couple in front.  The only clear recollection I have of that date is a comment my idol made about her father, who I believed to be a man of wisdom, a pillar in the church.  She said, "My father believes that television will not last", (which tells you that this was about 1950).  I remember that I didn't agree, and lost some of my respect for her father.  She was pretty and of course married her school's basketball star. 

Over the years my idealism has been tempered with realism.  It took me several years to learn not to put my love of the time on a pedestal.  I finally found the one who nearest fit my dreams, but along the way I suffered as Ralph suffers. 

They say there is no fool like an old fool, so perhaps that has something to do with my being so overcome by this book.  But I believe there is more to it.  I really was impressed by Woolf's writing, her descriptions of emotions, glances, surroundings.  I found her writing beautiful.  There were a couple of scenes that didn't ring true to me, such as those between Ralph and his competitor, William.   I would never have been able to feel anything but contempt for William.  But of course I will now have to read another of Virginia Woolf's books

So, to those who love me or like me and who may in some way be hurt by my revelations here, please forgive me.  I am only a romantic, flawed, human being and it is not my intent to hurt anyone who cares for me, or for whom I care, and I have told you all who you are.

We Get What We Vote For

That phrase made famous in the Pogo Comic Strip, "We have met the enemy and he is Us" seems most concisely to describe our political and economic situation today, and indeed life in general. 

We are not a well informed people.  We may think we are, but on too many issues and especially at election time, our intelligence is  shaped by slogans, soundbites, even speeches and debates over simplified and often intentionally designed to mislead and misinform us.  We choose what we read, listen to, and watch most often because we agree with it.  Our frustration with political and economic conditions makes us vulnerable to talking heads who rant and rave about those conditions, but mostly do not inform us of the complexities involved, they merely reinforce our dissatisfaction.

A well functioning Democracy depends upon a well educated and informed people.   The emphasis in our schools tends more and more to the sciences and business, our need to excel in these fields if we are to survive, but fail to recognize the arts, history and social sciences in teaching people how to reason, think and make informed decisions.  Teaching how to recognize the truth, to value the truth, and above all to seek, honor, and admire intelligence may well be criticised as meddling in the character of the student in a way contrary to the wishes of the parent.

We may admire expensive cars, houses, clothing, athletes, etc. but persons with superior knowledge, experience, and training, particularly in politics, history or the science of the environment are subject to being called "Elitists", and one not to be trusted by the "common person", the voter.

So now we have Congress advocating cuts in education and  eliminating funding for public radio and television.  The result is certainly not going to be a better informed public.  I wonder if congress wouldn't be better advised to watch and listen to some public broadcasting than to de-fund it?  Certainly the public would understand more about our world, its history, its environment, its peoples and cultures and about the complexities of the issues of healthcare, immigration, foreign policy, and economics if they listened and watched more public broadcasting programs and less of the obviously biased commercial broadcasting talking heads.

While I claim that we the people are not well informed, I must temper that by saying we don't seem to totally comprehend all that we know, and we are not smart enough to envision or fully understand the consequences of our decisions.  Certainly if the people of Wisconsin were aware of the information now included in Wikipedia regarding Scott Walker, comprehended it and understood the consequences of voting for him, he would not now be their governor.  If you are interested you will follow the link and read it, if you are not you wont take the time which will only enforce my argument.  Many of you after reading it will reject it out of hand as being false and inaccurate, or worse, still think he was a good choice to be governor of that State.

Again, We get what we deserve.

 

 

 

 

Historic Information and Opinions

While visiting my son Greg last fall, our discussion consisted of his asking some things about his great grandparents and their lives which had been prompted in part by his reading this blog.  I of course was full of information for him, sprinkled with facts and my impressions.  At last, he chuckled and said I should set myself up as an authority and charge people for information in response to their questions.  Well, for Christmas I received from him a large plaque en-scribed "Historic Information and Opinions,  The Hopkins".  That was a gift I cherish, and it made me and Marcia really laugh.  So, Greg, here goes!   

In February, 1941 the unemployment rate in the US finally dropped below 10% after it hit a high of 25% in 1932.  This country was still trying to stay out of the war in Europe, but finally had approved the lend-lease program allowing needed war materials to be sent to England.  In spite of all of the programs which had been tried to end the great depression, it lingered on until we began to gear up for war.  The period we are in now and have been in since 2007 is without question the greatest recession since then, and just because Wall Street is back up and running doesn't mean we are out of the woods yet.

Seventy years ago I was 5, and would start to school in the Fall.  My father was tending a 100 acre farm, two thirds of it tillable, with a team of horses.  We had a car, a 1933 chevrolet two door sedan with no trunk, but no electricity or indoor plumbing.  The house, a large 7 room two story, had 3 bedrooms, but in the winter we lived in just 3 of the rooms because it was heated by a pot belly wood/coal stove in the living room. That was the Hicks Place, for which this blog is named.

We were never hungry because we had dairy cows, chickens, hogs, and a big garden.  I and my brothers went barefoot much of the time in the Summer, except for Sundays when we went to church, where we saw our grandparents and families of cousins, often having Sunday dinner at one of their houses. 

In the summer, my dad would work with relatives and neighbors to help each other at haymaking and wheat or oats harvesting times. One of my grandfathers had a larger farm and had tractors, a threshing machine, a hay rake and loader, so my dad and others gave their physical labor and my grandfather provided equipment.  But in the fall and winter my dad shucked all of the corn he raised, at least 20 acres, by hand.  That means he walked along each row in the field, took each ear of corn in his two hands pealed back the shucks, broke it off of the stalk, and threw it into the farm wagon beside him which was pulled by our team of horses,"Dick and Gale".  He was fast at it and could shuck two wagon loads a day when the weather was good.  Some winters he wouldn't finish until after Christmas.

I am currently reading "Citizens of London" by Lynne Olson.  It relates the situation in London, the bombings and shortages affecting normal people there, but also the lives of US newsmen, Averell Harriman, and particularly the US Ambassador John Gilbert Winnant as they reported the situation to the American public and conducted relations between our administration and the Churchill government.  It portrays the shakey relations between Churchill and Roosevelt as well as the conflicts between the Allied military leaders, Eisenhower's strengths and weaknesses and troubles controling his generals.  That is a war we should have entered sooner.

But now I am cautious about the power struggle in Egypt. Out of a population of about 80 million, perhaps several hundred thousand are reported demonstrating for Mubarak to resign and leave the country.  We have seen large demonstrations in our country which do not necessarily represent the position of the majority.  Once such demonstrations gain media coverage they can appear to represent a larger segment of the population than they really do.  I am old enough to remember when the media (particularly the NY Times) were instrumental in convincing us that Castro was a Savior for Cuba.

I am just saying that the US should be very careful not to take sides in this situation.  We cannot become involved to the extent that we appear responsible for the outcome.  We have enemies, to a very great extent, because we have made it our business to get involved in supporting foreign governments (we think in our best interest) which the people there find unacceptable.  That's my opinion.

 

Why maybe I should say "Happy Holidays"

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