In our local Casa Grande Dispatch this mornng, an article was written by two AP reporters (Phil Davenport andJonathan Cooper) It begins: "Arodi Berrelleza isn't one of the targets of Arizona's new anti-illegal immigration law -- he's a U. S. citizen.
But the 18 year old high school student from Phoenix said he's afraid he'll be arrested anyway, if police see him driving around with friends and relatives, some of them illigal immigrants.."
The article goes on to talk about how he is afraid he will be stopped and asked for "papers" just because of the color of his skin.
Well now! How about a big headline that "Thousands of Mexican-Americans are NOT stopped today." Or "Hundreds of cops did NOT racially profile or invade anyone's privacy today." or "Dog did NOT bite man today."
Why do these AP writers seem to need to write a front page story about someone who did NOT get stopped -- nor is likely to get stopped if he is minding his business and staying out of trouble? Thousands of high school kids were out of school on the day of the signing of this new bill by Governor Jan Brewer,just to protest something they know nothing about. I wonder who let them out! As I understand, this bill takes the language of the Federal law word for word and makes a state law out of it. If one is not constitutional -- then wouldn't the other also be unconstiutional?
Maybe I just don't get it. But it seems pretty simple to me. Some are breaking our laws and need to be arrested and taken into custody for it -- and then delt with in an appropriate manner. If that is the job of the Federal Government -- then why did we have a rancher who's family has lived just next to the Mexican border -- killed in cold blood by an illigal immigrant -- and the Federal authorities said they had insufficient manpower to do anything about it? We do. Arizonans do -- now. But a segment of our population (not nearly a majority) are screaming about getting stopped because they have brown skin and will use "racial profiling" as a means of filtering out the illigals. They are yelling about stopping people just because they "Look like Mexicans." Welll -- at the risk of sounding politically incorrect --- DUH! They are coming from Mexico they would -- in all probability -- look like Mexicans! Right?
My neighbors all around me are Hispanic people -- American
Citizens. They were either born here or got their citizenship. Thoughout my life, I have had felolow workers and hundreds of friends who are of Hispanic origin. I have not discussed this law with them. However, I suspect they would tell me they would be happy to fork over their "Papers" in the very very unlikely event they should be "stopped" for some reason. I liken it to a drunk driving blockade. If you are legal (not drunk), it might be a little inconvenient -- you simply stop and show your license and go on down the road. No big deal But if you are drunk and might get caught, it really scares the hell out of you and pisses you off for getting stopped and checked. (But it also might save your own or someone else's life, too.)
Back to the writers of the AP article. Guys -- I was in the news reporting business for many years. I know we need a glamerous hook on the story to get the attention of the public -- it is the way we make our living and revenue for our media. But, for God's sake -- lets stop slanting stories in the wrong direction and stick to the facts and the truth.
From the Heart by Olaf Hart.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
Urban Legends
My old uncle Ned(Rest his soul) was a wonderful Urban Legend guy. Oh, he really believed those stories -- as did most of the folks in my little home town. It is a kind of small town passtime -- these stories of strange happenings. The first one I recall was shortly after I-74 was completed just a couple of miles outside of town. It seems that a local guy (no one can recall who) was driving home down the Interstate and he came upon a big black Cadallac with a flat tire. He stopped to lend a hand and was confronted with a very pretty black woman who was sitting in the drivers seat of the car. He got into the trunk and retrieved the spare tire and changed it for the pretty black woman.
The story goes -- in a few days, a big delivery truck pulled up in front of his home and he was soon the proud owner of a new color TV (that was considered the prize gift back then). There was a note with the big TV set. It said "Thanks for changing my tire" and was signed "Mrs. Nat King Cole." I guess they did not know her name was Maria.
This story was the gospel truth in my home town. Everyone believed it.
A few years later, I had moved to the LA area and was watching a
TV interview with Maria Cole. She told the same story. Except -- she said it happened in every state in the Union, outside of hundreds of small town along the interstate. And it was simply not true!! It never happened! She never drove a black car of any sort across the country. And, she had no idea where the story originated.
TV interview with Maria Cole. She told the same story. Except -- she said it happened in every state in the Union, outside of hundreds of small town along the interstate. And it was simply not true!! It never happened! She never drove a black car of any sort across the country. And, she had no idea where the story originated.
That was my first experience with Urban Legends. Since then I have heard of scores of stories from the Pepsi can that refused to put "Under God" in the pledge (It was Coke and it was a July 4th ad campaign using only the first line of the pledge.) -- and more recently -- the new dollar coin that left off "In God We Trust." (It is on the edge of the coin if anyone bothers to look).
Many of these legends are of a religious nature. I am not a terribly religous man -- but I have no problem with religous symbols and words that are traditions in our country's history. But it might be nice if these people would get their facts straight before they e mail everyone in the world to boycott this that or the other for no good reason.
Anyway -- back to Uncle Ned. There are hundreds of Uncle Neds in the world living in small towns -- telling stories that have little or no basis -- and swearing they are true because someone or other (they can't remember exactly who) was there and saw it happen. I really loved my Uncle Ned and wouldn't have him be any different.
I suppose it is a part of Americana and we should just let it happen -- shake our heads with wonder and let the teller of the story have his moment of fame with his scoop. At least it makes for good memories of all the old Uncle Neds in the world.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Where's the Coffee Pot
I think it twas Sunday night. But what ever night it was, it was time for Gun Smoke!! We all watched every episode. But the part I remember the best was when Marshall Dillon had a discussion with Chester (played by Dennis Weaver) about the coffee. Chester would hobble over (he had a stiff leg) to the old wood burning stove in the Marshall's office and get the old coffee pot and pour the coffee. He always had a word or two defending his special blend. It had little to do with the plot -- but I remember it well.
I remember my parents and grandparents all had a coffee pot or one sort or another. Some were pretty simple -- just put in the water and put in the coffee and let her boil. It often boiled over and had to be pulled off with a hot pad or towel and the mess wiped up.
Then there were the percolators which bubbled up into a dome top and sang a little tune. There were drip-o-laters. Then we switched to various electric versions. Then we had a glass pot under a gadget into which we poured the water and let it do its thing. One could even set the timer and -- bingo -- coffee in the morning when you got up. The similiarity in all these various versions of the coffee pot was -- they all smelled so good. NOthing like the smell of a good pot of coffee in the morning. Until now!!
A few weeks ago my daughter and son-in-law took us to visit a wealthy friend who invited us for a breakfast at his home in the mountains in Arizona. He has a beautiful view through his big picture window -- looking out over the valley below and the mountains above. But he also had something else to show us -- his new coffee making machine. It was made by Keurig. He showed us how one simply filled the reservoir on the side -- then lifted the lid and placed a pre measured little plastic cup with a sealed lid into the recepticle -- pulled down the lid and lights began to flash. Then you select just how strong you wanted your coffee by determining the size of your cup -- smaller cup -- stronger coffee -- place you cup under the spout and here comes your fresh coffee.
We all got a cup of our choice of coffee from scores of blends and brands from all over the world. He even had several blends of tea and hot chocolate! And it is all fresh and took only about 10 seconds to brew.
My daughter fell in love with this new gadget and went out and bought one immediately -- that same day. Also available is a nice display rack which holds a few dozen of those little plastic cups. And, of course, the little plastic containers of coffee. The whole thing was nearly $200.
Well -- now guess who has one in his kitchen? --ME -- We had to have one. Gone is our coffee maker with the clock and the timer. Now we select a little plastic container of our favorite blend from the rack and put it in and pull the handle, press the botton and here comes fresh coffee in about 10 seconds.
But there is no smell -- no aroma. It never boiles over. It is perfect every time. What would Chester say about that?
I remember my parents and grandparents all had a coffee pot or one sort or another. Some were pretty simple -- just put in the water and put in the coffee and let her boil. It often boiled over and had to be pulled off with a hot pad or towel and the mess wiped up.
Then there were the percolators which bubbled up into a dome top and sang a little tune. There were drip-o-laters. Then we switched to various electric versions. Then we had a glass pot under a gadget into which we poured the water and let it do its thing. One could even set the timer and -- bingo -- coffee in the morning when you got up. The similiarity in all these various versions of the coffee pot was -- they all smelled so good. NOthing like the smell of a good pot of coffee in the morning. Until now!!
A few weeks ago my daughter and son-in-law took us to visit a wealthy friend who invited us for a breakfast at his home in the mountains in Arizona. He has a beautiful view through his big picture window -- looking out over the valley below and the mountains above. But he also had something else to show us -- his new coffee making machine. It was made by Keurig. He showed us how one simply filled the reservoir on the side -- then lifted the lid and placed a pre measured little plastic cup with a sealed lid into the recepticle -- pulled down the lid and lights began to flash. Then you select just how strong you wanted your coffee by determining the size of your cup -- smaller cup -- stronger coffee -- place you cup under the spout and here comes your fresh coffee.
We all got a cup of our choice of coffee from scores of blends and brands from all over the world. He even had several blends of tea and hot chocolate! And it is all fresh and took only about 10 seconds to brew.
My daughter fell in love with this new gadget and went out and bought one immediately -- that same day. Also available is a nice display rack which holds a few dozen of those little plastic cups. And, of course, the little plastic containers of coffee. The whole thing was nearly $200.
Well -- now guess who has one in his kitchen? --ME -- We had to have one. Gone is our coffee maker with the clock and the timer. Now we select a little plastic container of our favorite blend from the rack and put it in and pull the handle, press the botton and here comes fresh coffee in about 10 seconds.
But there is no smell -- no aroma. It never boiles over. It is perfect every time. What would Chester say about that?
Monday, April 5, 2010
Easter has come and gone
Is it the first Sunday -- after the first full moon -- after the first day of Spring? I don't remember but that is close enough. Easter! That day of the year when we do strange things in strangely different traditions.
I lived in New Mexico for many years. That is the home of the Penatente. That is a group of believers who are leftovers from the Catholic/Indian culture, I am told. They select a member of their group to become Jesus for the weekend. He is honored by allowing himself to be hung on a cross (some assure me that years ago he was actually nailed to the cross -- but that is highly suspect in its validity). On Easter morning he is removed from the cross and hailed as the messiah and the celebration begins.
I was in Old Mexico one year on Easter weekend and observed a man in a small village in the Copper Canyon. He was in great pain (and also a good actor) as he carried a very large and heavy cross down the street, through the village, leading what appeared to be a parade of every person in the village behind him. They were singing and moaning and celebating the holy day (holiday?) as they reinacted the legend of Jesus's path to Calvery.
Then, we are all familiar with and have participated in, the traditional Masses and sunrise services and religious gatherings with which we all grew up. No need to describe those.
But for some reason -- I know not where it originated -- we switch to eggs and rabbits. Children all over the country hunt eggs planted by the Easter bunny -- a kind of spring-time Santa, I guess. In my career and as a parent, I have participated in these hunts many times..They are a sight to behold. Little kids go first. Parents help tikes who are not yet old enough to know what is going on. The struggle to find their hidden treasures. Then the next age bracket. They have been here before -- they know the ropes -- they grab and fight over the eggs as though they were gold. And so it goes with the hunt.
When I was a lad, there were no commercial hunts -- just around in our back yard. My Easter bunny parents did the hiding. But before the hunt began, there was a big basket of candy for each of us, waiting to be discovered when we got out of bed. It was a day of candy eating that was allowed -- stomach ache or not. My parents had little money for frivisous things like candy --(maybe that is why I still have my own teeth) but Easter was the exception. Those baskets were home created -- put together by my parents -- no pre prepared baskets in my famiy. But the candy was great with lots of jelly beans (they were cheap). I liked the black ones best.
Yes -- Easter has come and gone for another year. The faithful have celebrated it in whichever way they have seen fit. The bunny is gone for another year with his eggs and candy. And I wonder -- What would Jesus have thought about this holiday and its various spinoffs?? He would probably roll his eyes and chalk it up to progress.
From the heart -- Olaf Hart
I lived in New Mexico for many years. That is the home of the Penatente. That is a group of believers who are leftovers from the Catholic/Indian culture, I am told. They select a member of their group to become Jesus for the weekend. He is honored by allowing himself to be hung on a cross (some assure me that years ago he was actually nailed to the cross -- but that is highly suspect in its validity). On Easter morning he is removed from the cross and hailed as the messiah and the celebration begins.
I was in Old Mexico one year on Easter weekend and observed a man in a small village in the Copper Canyon. He was in great pain (and also a good actor) as he carried a very large and heavy cross down the street, through the village, leading what appeared to be a parade of every person in the village behind him. They were singing and moaning and celebating the holy day (holiday?) as they reinacted the legend of Jesus's path to Calvery.
Then, we are all familiar with and have participated in, the traditional Masses and sunrise services and religious gatherings with which we all grew up. No need to describe those.
But for some reason -- I know not where it originated -- we switch to eggs and rabbits. Children all over the country hunt eggs planted by the Easter bunny -- a kind of spring-time Santa, I guess. In my career and as a parent, I have participated in these hunts many times..They are a sight to behold. Little kids go first. Parents help tikes who are not yet old enough to know what is going on. The struggle to find their hidden treasures. Then the next age bracket. They have been here before -- they know the ropes -- they grab and fight over the eggs as though they were gold. And so it goes with the hunt.
When I was a lad, there were no commercial hunts -- just around in our back yard. My Easter bunny parents did the hiding. But before the hunt began, there was a big basket of candy for each of us, waiting to be discovered when we got out of bed. It was a day of candy eating that was allowed -- stomach ache or not. My parents had little money for frivisous things like candy --(maybe that is why I still have my own teeth) but Easter was the exception. Those baskets were home created -- put together by my parents -- no pre prepared baskets in my famiy. But the candy was great with lots of jelly beans (they were cheap). I liked the black ones best.
Yes -- Easter has come and gone for another year. The faithful have celebrated it in whichever way they have seen fit. The bunny is gone for another year with his eggs and candy. And I wonder -- What would Jesus have thought about this holiday and its various spinoffs?? He would probably roll his eyes and chalk it up to progress.
From the heart -- Olaf Hart
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