Saturday, February 19, 2005

Hey You! This Is God With a Message.

I think God spoke to me yesterday. Calm down. It wasn't in the Biblical sense. It was more like, "You are about to die. Slow down, fool."

I'm traveling northbound on I-77. I'm maybe twenty miles north of Charleston, WV and ten miles south of Ripley. I had been driving through a heavy snow shower for over an hour. The pavement was by now wet; the atmospheric temperature somewhere around 25, with a rather stiff wind to add to the mix. It was shaping up to be a really crappy journey.

I'm doing about 75 miles per hour.

Now I know what you're thinking. You're shouting at your monitor, "You blamed fool! You're driving in blizzard conditions and you're doing 75?" Yes (says your monitor back to you). And I was talking on my cellphone (I know; I know). But before you think I'm a complete idiot, undertand that I have spent my life driving in all sorts of weather conditions, including winter weather much worse than this.

Okay. Maybe I was still an idiot. But I was carefully watching the pavement conditions as I sped recklessly northbound and I felt safe enough to proceed at breakneck speed.

Until I came over a rise and saw flashing hazard lights in the median ahead. That was an indication that something was not right. Sure enough, as I approached, I noticed a nice black Ford pickup truck up against the guardrail on the southbound side (with his flashers going). He had lost control as he passed over an ice-covered overpass and put his full-size pickup into the median.

My foot came off the gas.

Just as I was coming up to the scene of the accident, my attention turned to a full-size car (I don't know what make or model; it happened too quickly) lose control on the same overpass, spin out, and slam into the pickup. Mud, sod, and debris flew across the median and into the northbound lanes. The car's grill and what must have been part of the front bumper went bounding across the road in front of me and I slammed on the brakes. I dodged the debris but my car was showered with gravel, dirt, and who knows what-all.

I told the person I was talking to I'd have to call them back (and I may have shouted some expletive; I don't remember).

It was at this point that my years of driving experience paid off. Instinct told me that maybe I should slow down.

And to call 911.

Southbound lanes of the interstate were coming to a halt at the scene of the accident and travelers were getting out of their vehicles to assist the drivers (and passengers?). I thought of doing the same but I was on the wrong side of the highway and thought it best - rather than cause another accident - to move on.

So I called 911, gave the dispatcher a brief explanation for my call and told her where the accident had occurred. She asked if the vehicles involved were in the road and I told her that they were in the median but there was debris in the road - at least on the northbound side. As we talked, she was relaying the information to county units for their response. She thanked me for calling and I drove on - a bit more slowly.

By the time I was six or seven miles further up the road, I passed two sheriff's deputies' cars and two ambulances heading toward the accident. I hope the people involved were okay.

Yesterday I was lucky. I made it home at the end of the day. What to take from all this? Something Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote comes to mind. It seems appropriate.

O friend, never strike sail to a fear! Come into
port greatly, or sail with God the seas.
Essays, 1841

I'll be back at it again on Monday.

This comes to mind as well.

Slow down and pay attention to what you're doing, you idiot!
And get off the phone!
Paula, Friday, February 18, 2005

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Eracism

I came to a stop light yesterday in Cumberland Gap and noticed a bumper sticker on the car in front of me. It had one word with large multi-colored letters. The "word" was "ERACISM." Eracism. One of those twists that gives you pause. You think, eracism. Eracism. Hmm. Oh, I get it. Erase racism. OK. 

Then the light above turned green and the silver-haired woman in the Toyota drove on.
But I kept thinking about the experience I had just had. Not about ending racism. To me, that is taking care of itself - over time. It's that I have no idea what her intention was in slapping that sticker on her car. I believe the tiny words underneath said, "Universalist Unitarian Church," which says something in itself. It is to this church that all the 60's hippies migrated in subsequent years. Upon what do they base their church beliefs? Peace. Love. Humanity. Togetherness. Inclusion. "If it feels good, and there is love in your heart, do it - no matter if the person you're doing it to is adult, male, female, consenting, or even a human being for that matter. I don't remember God - or Jesus - playing a part in their foundational beliefs but I could have overlooked Him in my extensive readings on the subject.

But I digress.

What was the old lady's intention? To get the rest of us to change our ways? Probably. And she is probably one of the elitists on the left who think a bumper sticker will do it. "Eracism? Oh, I never heard it put that way. From this point on, I'm going to love my fellow black man, Latino woman, ..."

But I was made aware of another bumper sticker the other day the motivation behind which runs in a different direction. My daughter called me in semi-amusement and startled amazement at something she had just read on the back of a pickup truck right here in Bland, Virginia. Beneath a confederate flag sticker was another that read, "WORK: It's The White Thing To Do." 

Now I know you can find this sort of sentiment up in Brooklyn or out in Los Angeles. Shoot, we know it is the prevailing attitude in certain Democratic circles in Washington D.C. But around these parts, there is an ugliness that accompanies the hatred. These people have not given up. To them, the civil rights battles that took place in the 60's are still underway. And they soldier on. 

Reality - and the turn of a new century - be damned.

So I have a thought. What would happen if I got the old silver-haired hippie who is still living in the sixties together with the Bland County racist who is still living in the sixties and locked them in a room over at the Motel 6? What would come of it?

I already know. If I could lock them both in, and throw away the room key, America would be better off for it. And the demise of racism would accelerate. 

Without the need for another bumper sticker.

Saturday, February 05, 2005

Email Buddy Day

I am declaring today "email buddy day." This is the day I am setting aside to respond to my email buddies - or at least those that don't use the "f" word in their messages to me. I give them a special - more personal - response.

The first email today comes from Robert in Portland (Maine? Oregon?). I mentioned the other day that I'm a proud member of the National Rifle Association. He has a problem with that.
You and your gun-toting buddies are all alike. Rednecks all. The NRA and the Republicans - is there a difference? oppose every progress this country attempts while there are people out in the streets of our cities armed with ak47's killing women and children. Doesn't that bother you?
Answer: No.

What bothers me is the fact that people like you are allowed to watch reruns of old Clint Eastwood movies and to fantasize about mayhem in the streets. I have some familiarity with the AK-47. It is a fully automatic weapon that is fully illegal in this country for a citizen to own - or to fire at women and children (without a special federal permit; to own that is, not to shoot women and children with). You probably meant one of the civilian versions of the weapon. I sometimes make the same mistake. You are forgiven. 

What I won't forgive you for is being a coward and for buying in to this kind of bullshit. Show me one instance of an individual (adult/child, male/female) who was killed by someone armed with an AK-47 in 2004 (in the USA) and I'll kiss your hairy, wrinkled, pimpled butt.

Now to more serious matters.

Why am I a member of the NRA? I am not a fanatic. I don't even hunt any more. I did years ago but drifted away from it for whatever reason (I don't drink much anymore either. The two are surely related.). I own a sizeable arsenal of weapons but don't flaunt them. Truth be known, I don't often fire any of them. My daughter will occasionally drop by to hone her skills at dropping an intruder with her Ruger 9mm semi-automatic badass handgun, but with that exception when we go back the turnpike and blow the hell out of a dead tree, I don't "sling much hot lead."

I am, however, a member of the National Rifle Association for what I consider to be the most important reason on earth. 

They protect me. 

I have a passion for liberty. For the freedoms that a bunch of dead white guys passed down to us. For those precious rights outlined in the Bill of Rights (as well as others that are delineated in natural law) that many of our ancestors fought for - and in the case of heroes like my father at Normandy, shed blood to protect.

I know how insecure our freedoms are. There are politicians in Washington who find it cumbersome to have to work around these rights relating to freedoms of speech, religion, assembly - to bear arms in defense of one's home and country- and would, if given the chance, legislate them out of existence.

John McCain comes to mind.

The NRA is focused on one of these issues - with passion and unrelenting fortitude. They - we - accept no less than that our elected representatives (our employees!) adhere to the principles upon which these United States rest, whether they like it or not. We - the people - have a right to keep and bear arms. We make this demand - that the government not interfere with this most precious of rights - for the most fundamental of reasons. One that has been driven home by Charlton Heston, a man of towering integrity - and another of my heroes.

The original amendments we refer to as the Bill of Rights contain ten of what the constitutional framers termed unalienable rights. These rights are ranked in random order and are linked by their essential equality. The Bill of Rights came to us with blinders on. It doesn't recognize color, or class, or wealth. It protects not just the rights of actors, or editors, or reporters, but extends even to those we love to hate.
I say the Second Amendment is. in order of importance, the first amendment. It is America's First Freedom, the one right that protects all of the others. Among freedom of speech, of the press, of religion, of assembly, of redress of grievances, it is the first among equals. It alone offers the absolute capacity to live without fear. The right to keep and bear arms is the one right that allows "rights" to exist at all.
Either you believe that, or you don't, and you must decide. 

I do. I have. I proudly send the NRA $35 each year having made that decision.
 

And I sleep well at night.

Now aren't you glad you brought this up, Robert?