On The Road; Kuralt Style | The Blues | Kentuckians | A Trio of Complaints | Political Parties  

When I was twelve I didn't know what Jim Crow laws were. I also didn’t know that I was witness to them every day of my young life. Jim Crow is the name given to all laws, written or unwritten, aimed at segregating the races in America . The origin of the term is long lost but it came out of the post-reconstruction era following the civil war.

My Uncle Johnny owned a general store in Columbia , SC. It was situated in the largest black district of the city, ironically known as White Town . Both my brother and I spent several summers staying with our Uncle Johnny and Aunt Mary, working in the store, learning to drive their delivery van, eating all the broken bulk Nabisco cookies we could handle and playing with the many black kids in the neighborhood.

I knew things were different in South Carolina than back home in Ohio . There were signs everywhere stating that this place was for white’s only or colored only. I knew that my black friends couldn’t go to the public swimming pool with me or play in the city park across from my Aunt’s house in Five Points. I knew all these things yet never questioned the correctness of them. I, like so many, just accepted them as “the way things are” and went on with my day.

At some point, however, I must have begun to sense that somehow all these rules and separations were wrong because I remember getting into arguments with my cousins about how Ohio was a better place than South Carolina because we didn’t, “treat our colored people bad.” Matter of fact, my cousin Charles Richard and his buddy Jimmy Dunbar beat the heck out of me on one such occasion. They probably believed the South would rise again and it was going to begin with thumping me!

Anyway, for many years I smugly continued to believe that morally, we Yankees were better people than those Rebs and that we had fought the war for the altruistic purposes of freeing the slaves and ensuring that all men will forever be, “created equal.”  I don’t know how old I was when I came to realize that all that was simply bunk.

While Ohio and other northern states did not have a system of racial segregation as legally defined (de jure segregation) or structured as southern segregation, none-the-less, segregation was widely practiced. It took a different form; however, it mostly existed, not in law, but in fact (de facto segregation) or practice. In the 1870s Ohio passed laws against interracial marriage or sexual relations and permitted local school boards to maintain separate schools if deemed fit.  These, and other segregation laws, were later overturned. But, even without these laws, segregation in Ohio continued.

When I was a teen growing up in Greenfield there were no laws segregating the races. But there were accepted social customs and expectations. We all went to the same schools and received access to the same educational opportunities but even there, not all was equal. A black lady who grew up in Greenfield once told me about being denied full participation in field trips taken by a club she belonged to in school because of her color. I knew that black students rarely attended school dances or other social functions. It was grist for gossip if a black student showed up at a dance and absolutely scandalous if he asked a white girl to dance. God help her if she accepted! I never knew what black kids did on the weekends and shamefully, never gave it any thought.

My mother cooked in a local restaurant and during lunch black men would come in the back door, drink a beer and eat a sandwich while standing against the kitchen wall. My mom or someone else would have to go out front and get their food and drink for them.

Housing was segregated in Greenfield , not by law but by custom. The lines of black neighborhoods were not tightly defined but they existed. Blacks lived on North Fourth Street or near the end of Lyndon Avenue . I can still recall the rumblings when a black couple moved into a traditionally white neighborhood in the 1970s.

When we think of segregation and Jim Crow in the South we often think of the rise and power of the Ku Klux Klan. Many of us don’t know or chose to forget that the Klan was very powerful here in Ohio and neighboring states. When I moved back to Ohio in 1970 regular Klan rallies were still being held on a farm near King’s Island .

So, you see that all we Yankees have been wrong in thinking of ourselves as the good guys while chastising the South for all the wrongs perpetrated on blacks during the days of Jim Crow. Maybe we weren’t “as bad” but we still behaved badly. Put another way, maybe I deserved all the thumpins’ my cousin and his friend dished out!

I have a couple of reasons for choosing this subject for my February column. Most obvious is February being Black History Month. When I was teaching I would have an occasional student ask me why blacks have their own month? I usually replied, “Because whites have the other eleven tied up. Don’t you think it’s fair that they get at least one?”

In reality there is disagreement, even among blacks, as to whether there should be a month set aside for Black History. After all, we are all Americans and our racial/ethnic histories did not occur in separate vacuums. There is only one story to be told; good and bad, it is the story of many diverse peoples trying to carve out a fair slice of the American pie for themselves; often times against the odds and all those forces that resist change.  

I don’t have any problem allowing for some time to recognize the trials, injustices, and accomplishments of a group of Americans who have arguably had to fight harder than any other segment of our society. Their fight is not over and, to me; their fight should be our fight. Personally I think a better America would be one in which we all get a fair shake. So, for a few days this year, I take my hat off to black Americans and hope they, and us all (in the immortal words of George Jefferson), “Keep movin’ on up!”  

Rory Ryan recently wrote that someone had told him he (Ryan) was the nearest to being a fascist he’d ever known. Personally, I would never say such a thing about Rory but I have, at times, thought his political views got real close to the right edge of what I’m sure he still believes to be a flat earth.  

When reading Ryan’s weekly columns I employ the “Ryan rule”. Assuming his typical column is a thousand words in length, I will read the first one hundred words. If, during that, he doesn’t step over the edge, I will finish the column whether I agree or not.  

Now, don’t get me wrong, most of the time I enjoy his columns and even sometimes agree with him. He, like the old Hog Farmer, ain’t always wrong!  

I recently received an email from a reader thanking me for my column on conservative-liberal points of view (December, 2004) and stating that it should be required reading in our schools. While I thank that person for the compliment I have to say that it is required reading. Those same ideas are found inside every mostly unopened American Government textbook that ever languished in a mold-infested high school senior’s locker. Apparently, too many students opt for an “F” on that test.  

This brings me back to one of Rory Ryan ’s recent columns. In the December 2, 2005 column Ryan spent a little time discoursing on the common background of the two major political parties and how each has it share of zealots. While I’ve already ranted enough in the past on extremists I would like to offer some additional information to what Rory said about party history.  

First of all, political parties weren’t supposed to happen. They are not mentioned in either the Articles of Confederation or the US Constitution. George Washington so disliked and feared the inception of political parties in America that he devoted up to two-thirds of his farewell address discussing domestic policies and the rise of political parties.  

Ironically, it was the debate over ratification of the Constitution that instigated the birth of parties. The question was, “What kind of a nation will America become and who will wield power?” Those who supported the Constitution, the Federalist, believed in a strong national government with centralized political authority. Those opposed, the Anti-Federalists, supported a weaker national government with political authority more in the hands of state and local government. Out of this initial division evolved today’s two-party system.  

What has happened in the two-hundred plus years since is that party names have changed, some basic ideas have flip-flopped, and the whole thing has gotten a little more than confusing.  

Today’s Democrats trace their founding back to Jefferson . However, Jefferson was a member of what, back then, was commonly referred to as the Republican Party. Jefferson and his crowd believed in a weak central government, state’s rights and faith in the common man (democracy).  

The Federalist Party, led by Alexander Hamilton, believed in a strong centralized national government and political power vested in the hands of a ruling class (aristocracy). What we know as today’s Republican Party didn’t exist yet.

Jumping forward to the 1820s, several things had begun to change. First, the Federalist, as a party, disappeared and secondly, political thought evolved and realigned. Under Jackson the party of Jefferson became the Democrats and retained their belief of a limited federal government with increased inclusion of the common man. Jackson became famous for opening the doors of the White House to anyone to just walk on in.  

Today’s Republican Party evolved from a melding of the old Whig and Free-Soiler parties and believing that the government should permit free settlement of western lands and that slavery should be abolished. By Lincoln ’s time the Republicans had come to believe in federal supremacy over state’s rights while southern Democrats strongly preached state’s rights and nullification.  

Now, if you’re not totally confused yet, take no comfort, everything is about to flip. By the late 1800s the Republicans had become the darlings of the well-heeled, but they also worked to win Constitutional rights for former slaves and voting rights for women. If they had kept it up they might have even gone so far as to fight for gay rights and got an Equal Rights Amendment passed way back when!  

The Dems, in the meanwhile, were busy fightin’ for the rights of the common man, speakin’ out for state’s rights, and getting federal troops out of the South so white folks could do as they pleased!     

If the Ryan Rule didn’t kick in several thousand words ago you may have noticed that the two parties don’t, in several ways, fit the typical descriptions we are familiar with today. The Dems sound more like Pubs and the Pubs more like Dems. That’s because both parties have done some more flip-flopping since the late 1800s.  

Throughout the first seventy years of the twentieth century the Democrats continued to become more pro labor, pro farmer, pro working class and anti big business. It also flopped, beginning with F.D.R., and became the party of big government and strong centralized power. Since the 1930s it has become the party of social change and inclusion, as it reached out to blacks, immigrants, and the poor.  

The Republicans have remained the party of big business but they have abandoned the cause of social change in favor of preserving the status quo. Additionally, they lost the black vote after enlisting the Dixiecrats and embracing the white southern voter. They again flopped by adopting the old Democratic position of state’s rights and weaker central government.  

To many, the parties today are once again experiencing change. The Republicans are working hard to be more inclusive as they attempt reaching out to minority voters. Given the massive deficits of the Reagan and current Bush administrations they may also be evolving into the party of fiscal irresponsibility, a moniker the Democrats were long been branded with.  

By now I’m getting as tired of writing this column as you must be of reading it. So, permit me to abruptly finish by saying that I hope you have concluded that the important issues have remained pretty constant throughout our history and in vying for our votes the positions of the two major political parties is always shifting. What is considered liberal today may be seen as conservative tomorrow. Given that, my greatest fear is that I’ll live long enough that someday a reader will tell me that I’m the nearest thing to a fascist they’ve ever known.

I recently went camping and fishing in Florida for two weeks. Cut off from newspapers, radio, and television and with nothing to do but sit on a boat in the warm sun of Sebastian Inlet , it came to me that this truly was a vacation. For two weeks I really did vacate my world. And further more, I didn’t miss it, nor was I in a hurry to come back to it.  

I hadn’t traveled far on northbound I-95, however, before the world began to pry its way back into my life. My right hand kept reaching for the on/off switch of my dashboard radio and eventually it was permitted to tune in the closest NPR station.  

Within minutes I was swept back into the world of hurricane Wilma’s impending threat to the Florida coastline, Katrina’s aftermath, FEMA’s failures, the latest death count in Iraq, the continuing violence in Afghanistan, outsourcing, the CIA leak, rising fuel prices, Bush’s failing popularity, and more, and more, and forever more.  

So, now that I’ve made a full recovery from having vacated reality, I’m going to take this opportunity to blow off a little steam about a few things I’ve noticed lately.  

First of all, I’d like to take issue with those of you who are critical of the, “Old Hog Farmer.” One of your main criticisms is that you see his views as being too negative. Well, isn’t there a major difference between being negative and merely being real? There are those who live their days in protective bubbles and mentally create a world that doesn’t really exist. Then, there are those like the Hog Farmer who simply observe the world with eyes wide open and attempt to direct our attentions beyond our noses.  

For example, since 9/11 the Bush administration and congress have thrown billions of our tax dollars at homeland security. I certainly don’t see it as negative to point out that many of these dollars were wasted, nor have they resulted in increased security. For example, one state spent over $100,000 to purchase night vision goggles for its Department of Natural Resources. Another small Wisconsin community spent $15,000 for a thermal imaging camera and a night vision monocular to monitor any “suspicious activity” at the local farmer’s co-op.  

Now, you tell me how I’m to feel safer knowing that nobody’s fooling around down at the co-op? Are farmer’s co-ops high up on the list of radical Islamic terrorist targets? Finally, consider the thousands of small communities who received similar monies and spent it on equally unnecessary items.  

Anyway, ease up a little on the Hog Farmer and consider the merit of what he says before you condemn him as being the radical, left-wing, Bush hating, liberal that he most likely is. Hey, even liberals aren’t always wrong!  

Some time ago I wrote a column about banks. Well, once again I feel the need to bust their collective chops.  

I recently purchased an item from a person on eBay. The seller had a pretty good rating input from previous buyers so I felt reasonably safe sending him, as requested, a bank money order.  

Several days after mailing the payment I received an email from eBay stating that they had suspended the seller’s trading rights and advising me to stop payment on whatever remuneration I had submitted.  

So, on the next business day I called the bank and asked if a stop-payment could be issued for a bank money order. I was told yes but I would have to come into the office, fill out some forms, and cough up a $28.00 fee. I thanked them, took a few seconds to gather my thoughts and concluded that I had two options.  

One, I could take no action and possibly still receive my purchase. After all, any complaints against the seller had not been about buyers not getting what they had paid for. Or, I could burn up some expensive gasoline, take the time and drive to town, fill out the necessary paperwork and cough up $28.00.  

I quickly decided that my choice was really between possibly getting burnt by the eBay seller or, for certain, getting burnt by the bank. I decided for the unknown rather than the known. Can you say “banks” without feeling the need to gargle?  

Another bone of contention for me lately is state and federal grants and the irresponsible way in which local governments view them. I’m sure that all of you have heard some administrator or politician say, “Well, this money is from a grant and if we don’t spend it we’ll lose it.”  They seem to think that grant money is not tax payer money and somehow it’s better to use it for whatever, rather than not take it or give it back to the granting agency. Here are a couple of questions that our leaders should honestly consider before they consider spending grant money.  

First, is the grant necessary and will the community experience real and lasting value from it? The Greenfield School District recently disposed of a piece of surplus real estate for mere pennies on the dollar. Only a few years earlier they spend several hundred thousand grant dollars on this property making it handicap accessible. At that time it was commonly known that the longevity of this building was questionable at best. Wisdom lost out to use it or lose it.  

Secondly, before accepting grant money for some project consider if the community will be able to maintain the project after it is completed. On more than one occasion I’ve seen communities receive grant money, complete the project, and then permit it to go to seed because they don’t have the funds necessary for maintenance. Greenfield has received several grants to improve the downtown and city building areas. There are light globes that have been broken for years, newer sidewalks crumbling, and weeds growing up between the new brick sidewalk borders. When ask about these sights for sore eyes the administration offers the age old response, “We don’t have the funds.”  

You know, to fess up a little, I’m not really all that bothered about the things I’ve written about in this column. I just needed a quick topic in order to earn a few more bucks so I can get back to Florida next month, sit on my boat in the sun, and bury my head in those warm sands if reality begins to creep into the picture. Isn’t life inside a bubble great?    

A couple of months ago, I wrote a column in which I mentioned stopping in Owensboro , KY for some barbecue before driving on to Tennessee . Well, one of my truck stop buddies, who hails from Kentucky , gave me a gallon jug of lip because I didn’t say enough about his home state. So, in the hope of putting a plug in his facial orifice, I’m making Kentucky , good and bad, the sole subject of this month’s column.  

Now there is a lot to be said about Kentucky . The mountains and hills of its Appalachian region are truly spectacular. The rolling grasslands and horse farms of central Kentucky are sights to behold. And, the rich farmlands of Western Kentucky are unrivaled.  

And, the people of Kentucky , those who have continued to make their homes in the Bluegrass State , are truly wonderful folks. They are extremely friendly; they practice age-old traditions of folk art and roots music, and they hold steadfastly to the valued traditions of family, home, community and nation.  

About the only negative thing one can say about this group is that they, like those who moved to Ohio , talk funny. All one has to do is drive across the big bridge at Maysville and it begins. You start hearing people use phrases like, “Give me sum dat niller ace cream” or “I heared that I did” and “Had to git me a new battree for my truck” or “My daddy was borned right near cheer.”   

Unfortunately, Kentucky has not been able to provide for all its native born. As the North industrialized, many Kentuckians found it necessary to leave the poverty of Eastern Kentucky and migrate into Ohio , seeking economic opportunity.  

Now, I’m not trying to cast a broad net here, but it’s from this group that many of the negative ideas and stereotypes about Kentuckians arise. Unfortunately, Kentucky didn’t send us their best and brightest. The wiser ones saw what was happening and decided to stay home and enjoy the fruits of this northbound exodus. It’s kind of like how Cuba’s Castro, giving in to demands that he set his people free, opened up his prisons and asylums, and encouraged the inmates to immigrate to America.  

If you find it hard to accept the above-mentioned idea, just consider Kentucky stereotypes as expressed in the hundreds of Kentuckian jokes you’ve heard over the years. Now there has to be some basis in truth for these jokes. If all those briars had stayed put, none of them would have stopped at the borders of Ohio to clean all those restrooms.  

One of the things that bothers me most about these transplanted hill jacks is how they cling to their pasts. You rarely hear them praise or thank Ohio for providing them with a livelihood. Instead they just sit around and lament about how great KY is, or how great the Wildcats are doing, or how they miss butchering a hog each fall, or what year they became a Colonel, or how they want to be buried, “On top some East Kentucky mountain because it’s the closest thing to heaven and God won’t have to look so hard for me.” What a load of sentimental dribble!  

And another thing, have you noticed how Kentuckians never say what town they’re from? You’ll never hear them say, “I’m from Starvation Flats, KY,” or “I’m from Dismal Seepage, KY.” Instead they’ll say, “Well, I’m from Lloyd County ” or “Why, I’m from Pike County .” Then they begin throwing out names. “Do you know the Mercers down there, I’m a third cousin, twice removed, from ole’ Dub Mercer.” It’s kind of like everybody knows everybody, and maybe they do. Maybe that’s where all those incest jokes derive from. After all, one of my other Kentucky buddies once told me, “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with incest as long as you keep it in the family.”  

Dislocated Kentuckians hang onto anything made or grown in Kentucky . Most evenings of the summer you’ll find a group of fellows sitting on the bench outside the truck stop. For the local briars the owner keeps a stock of Ale-8-One on hand. Now Ale-8-One isn’t anything but regular old ginger ale that the bluegrass boys call Kentucky swamp water. They’re so proud of it you would think the recipe resulted from divine intervention. Isn’t an evening goes by that several bottles aren’t swilled down. Heck, they’ve even got some of the weaker minded Buckeyes drinkin’ it!  

Their love of all things Kentucky creates a paradox, however. On the one hand, Kentucky is a Bible belt state and its people take great pride in being God fearing and righteous. At the same time, they embrace legalized gambling in the form of horse racing, they manufacture and promote the consumption of intoxicating Bourbon whiskies and openly admit that their state’s largest cash crop, once the Devil’s weed tobacco, is now marijuana.  

Now my purpose here wasn’t to upset anyone, too much. I’ve simply attempted to point out some of our neighboring state’s assets and failings and to arrive at a little humor at other people’s expense. I hope none of the “brother briars” that frequent the truck stop are overly offended. After all, they’ve fired a few shots at us Ohioans over the years. I remember crossing the I-275 Bridge with one of them once. As we passed under the Welcome to Kentucky sign he said, “ Kentucky , now that means dark and bloody ground in Indian.” I responded with, “I think Ohio means something in Indian also.” His reply was, “Yeah, land of many dumb asses!”  

For many years I’ve been interested in Southern culture and food. About fifteen years ago this interest evolved into a love of blues music and blues history. The blues that most people are familiar with is probably that performed by such greats as Stevie Ray Vaughn and B.B. King. The blues that I’m most interested in is far more raw and basic. It’s the blues that was born in the cotton fields of the Mississippi Delta and came out of hard times and hard living. 

This blues is called country blues or Delta blues. It is acoustic music played on cheap instruments by people with no formal musical training and only the most basic vocabularies. It is rough, and crude, and unrefined, but the lyrics tell great stories of life, be it hard times or good, love gone wrong or love at its best. It’s the music that reinforced how tough life could be and it is also the music that swept away reality on Saturday night when a few dollars could buy you some beer at a local juke joint. 

There are lots of places that lay claim to being the birthplace of something. Memphis claims to be the home of rock and roll and Jackson, Tennessee, claims rockabilly. But, if any town has a valid claim, it’s Clarksdale, Mississippi. The proof is in drawing a fifty-mile wide circle on a map with Clarksdale at its center. Then create a list of bluesmen that were born, raised or spent much of their adult lives inside that circle. The list will include such names as Ike Turner, Sam Cooke, Charlie Patton, Bukka White, Sonny Boy Williamson, Robert Johnson, Son House, Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker. Besides these who became famous, there are dozens more who achieved little or no fame. The musicologist Alex Lomax once said that Clarksdale was responsible for more bluesmen than any place on earth.  

The Clarksdale area is filled with historical icons of Delta blues history. The nearby town of Tutwiler is where W.C. Handy (considered the father of the blues) first observed a black itinerant musician singing about a place where two railroad lines cross and accompanying himself on a cheap guitar using a pocketknife as a slide. According to Handy, “It was the weirdest music I’d ever heard.” Because of this historical occasion, Tutwiler also lays claim to being the birthplace of the blues and proclaims such high on its water tower.  

Tutwiler is also the final resting place of Sonny Boy Williamson II. Williamson, also known as Rice Miller, is considered to have been the greatest blues harp player in history. His style set the standard for all who followed.  

In the rural areas around Clarksdale were huge cotton plantations such as Stovall and Hopson. It was on these plantations that many of the greats were born, grew up, worked, learned the hardships of being poor, and later fled. Several plantations still exist and one, Hopson, is trying to preserve its place in blues history by offering tours and converting its field hand housing into sleeping quarters for tourists.  

In Clarksdale itself, you’ll find the Riverside Hotel on Sunflower Ave. Once a Negro hospital, it is the site where Bessie Smith died following an automobile crash in 1937. After World War II the hospital was converted into a hotel, catering to black travelers it became a haven for black musicians performing in the area. You name the artist and he or she has spent time at the Riverside Hotel. The hotel is still open and caters to blues fans from all over the world. The room in which Smith died is filled with mementos about her and open to the public. 

Depending on which music historian you want to believe, the Riverside can also lay claim to being the birthplace of rock and roll. In 1951, in the hotel’s basement, Ike Turner cut a demo tape of Rocket 88, a number that many to consider to be the first rock and roll tune. The tape was later sent to Sam Phillips at Sun Records in Memphis and turned into a hit for Turner.  

Further down Sunflower, and across from the cemetery, sits Red’s Lounge. Red’s is probably the last true juke joint in Clarksdale. It’s only open when Red is in the mood and I was fortunate enough to be there when he was. Greenwood, MS’s T-Model Ford was the attraction that night. T-Model is nearing 80 but still plays a strong guitar. Testifying to the international popularity of the blues there were at least four Germans, an Englishman and a young man from Japan in the crowd that evening. The Germans and the Brit even picked up instruments and took a turn at the microphone between sets.  

Doing much to keep alive the blues tradition of the Clarksdale area is the Delta Blues Museum. Located in the old railway station and adjoining warehouse, the museum is a major repository of blues history and memorabilia. It is the place where you’ll want to begin your visit to Mississippi’s Delta.  

Located next door to the museum, in an old commercial building, is the Ground Zero Blues Club. It was founded in 2001 by Clarksdale homeboy and actor, Morgan Freeman. The attempt was to recreate the look and feel of a traditional juke joint and breathe new life into the area’s native music. Guessing from the Saturday evening I spent there, it is working. The place was packed with people from many backgrounds, races and nationalities; all sharing in the emotion of this thing called the blues.  

A few miles out of Clarksdale I stopped along the roadside and walked a few feet into a cotton field. Standing there in the 105-degree temperature I reflected on what it must have been like to spend endless twelve-hour days chopping cotton in these fields, countless years of backbreaking toil for little money and even less chance of attaining a better way of life. It’s easy to see why Mississippi’s Delta became the birthplace of the blues.  

A lot of people don’t like Andy Rooney. I, however, have always enjoyed him and as I age, hope that I am able to someday rise to the level of curmudgeonry he has attained, albeit, without the eyebrows! 

Rooney is always able to find something irritating or objectionable with our society, our culture, our politics, our religions, and more. Often, his concerns seem petty but given he’s only allotted a few minutes each week, he can’t delve into many major problems. 

One of the things I like most about Mr. Rooney is his willingness to take on subjects many people don’t want to talk about. Like the time he peeved off the female populace by expressing his belief that women have no place in covering professional football. More than once CBS has had to take the heat for his comments and once, in 1990, they even suspended him from the 60 Minutes lineup for a comment he allegedly made about blacks. 

Instead of getting riled up, however, those who are the subjects of his jabs should first consider the intent and content. They may discover that what he has said is something that needed saying, needs to be seriously considered and possibly used as a catalyst for change. Only then, should he be labeled a crazy old man who is out of touch with the 21^st century. 

Well, if I’m ever to become the curmudgeon I dream of being, I need to throw a few barbs. So, let’s begin with cell phones. 

Last week I observed a group of 6 teenagers hanging out together in downtown Greenfield. Instead of enjoying each other’s company half of them had a cell phone glued to their ear. Possibly they had some kind of conference call going on. Later, the same group was at McDonald’s and again, half were talking to friends on their phones and while the phoneless sat mutely in their seats. 

Another thing that bothers me are people who get indignant if you stare at their tattoos and pierced protrusions. Why, otherwise, would a person go through the pain, suffering, monetary expense and disownership of their parents if they didn’t want to draw attention to themselves. In my day only 2 kinds of men had their bodies pierced, gays and pirates. Don’t recall last time I saw a pirate sitting in a restaurant sipping a double wild strawberry vanilla mocha latte.  

I also don’t like calling people who have cute little messages on their answering machine. I called an acquaintance the other day and was treated to, “Hi, you have reached the Smith’s. Bob, Carol, Teddy and baby Alice can’t come to the phone right now because they’re either not home or they’re having quality family time.” What’s wrong with a simple, “please leave a message”? 

Speaking of being too cutesy, I can’t stand the cutesy news that for too many years has been posing as quality, content orientated, news coverage. What’s with this I-Team, Storm Team, Action Team 5 crap that takes control of our local TV channels between 5 and 6:30 each evening?  At best these Sky News Team members prove that they can read, maintain the appropriate facial expression dictated by the icon next to each story, speak without a regional accent, and had parents who could afford orthodontia when they were teens. What they don’t display is any indication that they understand the significance of what they’re reading. A case in point happened a few years ago when Ohio’s farmers were dealing with one of the most severe droughts in our history. They were on the verge of loosing everything when a Cincinnati weatherman mindlessly blurted out that, “hopefully the rain will hold off and not ruin the weekend.” A major segment of the state’s economy was facing ruin and all this dude could think of is working on his tan. 

Another thing I find distracting is overweight women sportin’ hip huggers and tube tops. I think it is amazing that just as America reached an obesity crisis, Brittany Spears, and others, popularized the bare midriff look. Look, I’ll make you tube top tubbies a deal, cover up the tire and I’ll quit wearing Speedos to the YMCA. 

And finally, what’s the deal with cemetery decorations these days? Every time I drive by a cemetery I get the feeling the carnival has come to town. You can easily distinguish the new section of most cemeteries. It’s there you’ll find all the Day-Glo colored baskets of plastic flowers, silver Mylar whirly gigs, plastic beads and trinkets hanging from steal hooks driven into the ground, and growing numbers of solar powered eternal memory tombstone lights. It’s enough to raise the dead! 

You know, maybe there’s another reason Andy Rooney and we fellow curmudgeons do what we do. It’s just plain fun to put your tongue in your cheek and let her rip!

Before proceeding I need to share with you a few of definitions for types of BBQ places I recently came across. First there is the BBQ restaurant. In it you will find matching furniture, easy listening background music, and printed menus. They also accept credit cards and are members of the local chamber of commerce.

Secondly, you’ll run into BBQ joints. Joints have screened doors, a jukebox, sell beer, the menu is written on a blackboard, the cook is nicknamed Bubba and they only accept cash.

Lastly, there are dives. You’ll recognize dives because the door screen is torn, the employees are all tattooed, they sell beer and whiskey, the cook’s real name Is Bubba, and she has a prison record.

It must be said, however, that great, average and horrible barbecue can be found in all.

Getting back to the story, a year ago Danny Masters and I headed out for Huntsville, TX. First night out we ate at Corky’s BBQ (a chain of restaurants) in Tunica, MS. The ribs were dry style (seasoned with a rub rather than a sauce) and tasty but the meat had lost too much moisture in the cooking. Next day we stopped at Bill’s BBQ in Tallulah, LA  (definitely a dive) and tried to eat what may have been the world’s worst ribs; greasy spareribs swimming in a dark, murky, zing less sauce.

Finally, we arrived at Annie May’s (certainly a joint minus the jukebox and beer) just in time for lunch. After entering I instantly recognized Annie May behind the counter manning the cash register and telephone. I stepped up to order and told her we had driven all the way from Ohio to see her. Her instant response was to ask, “Well, how I look?”

Well, for a lady in her late 80s she looked wonderful and we couldn’t wait to dig in. At her suggestion we ordered the sampler plate, which consisted of all you could eat, spareribs, beef brisket and smoked sausage along with slaw, potato salad, white bread and sweet tea. Sadly, I wasn’t very impressed. The meats were okay but certainly not, “world class”. The sauces were simply sad, like Bill’s they were very dark and lacking in both flavor and zing.

All in all, however, it was a worthwhile experience. Annie May is a legend and her joint is a classic. Sadly, I don’t think she is able to work in the restaurant any longer. Recent news articles indicate other church members are now running things.

Also, after eating in several more southwest BBQ places, I have concluded I just don’t like their style. I’m too acquainted with Carolina barbecue and to me; nothing else begins to match up. The same cannot, however, be said about the Mexican food we ate while in Texas, Mexico, New Mexico and Oklahoma. Now those folks know how to cook!

I’ve almost lost track of the barbecue places I’ve tried in the past year. Some of them deserve to be forgotten but you cue lovers need to know about a few.

Not too far from us is the Stagecoach Barbecue on US 23 in South Bloomfield, just north of Circleville. Four of us paid them a visit during the winter and departed stuffed and very impressed. No one had any complaints and for me, the hit of the evening was the smoked turkey, fried green beans and Marena’s chocolate chip bread pudding.

Don’t want to drive that far? Try out the Old Canal House Smoked Meats restaurant on Water Street in Chillicothe. We’ve eaten there several times now and not been disappointed. The pulled pork is very good, the side dishes are excellent, great cornbread, and as good a sauces as you’ll find outside North Carolina. I especially like the apple cider BBQ sauce.

If you’re headed for South Carolina this summer keep an eye out for a Duke’s BBQ (there are several of them and they are restaurants). I picked up a sandwich at the drive-thru in Walterboro, SC and the mustard sauce was to die for. It was the best pulled pork sandwich I have ever eaten and one of these days I’m going back for the full sit down experience.

Probably the most unique place I’ve been in lately was Pete Jones’ Skylight Inn (another joint without music or beer) in Ayden, NC. Pete has been cooking whole hogs with wood since 1947 and claims that his family has been cooking BBQ on the same property since 1830.

Many people claim his to be the capital of North Carolina barbecue and that may account for the large silver replica of the capital dome sitting atop his otherwise non-descript building.

This is plain Jane BBQ. You order at a counter from an extremely limited menu. Your choices are chopped pork barbecue, vinegar slaw, and chitlin’ cornbread, sweet tea or soda pop, and nothing else. You can choose small, medium or large portions but the serving procedure remains the same. A sheet of wax paper is laid on the counter and a paper boat of BBQ placed in its middle. Next, a thin square of very dense chitlin’ cornbread is placed on top followed by a paper boat of slaw and a plastic fork. The items are wrapped up in the wax paper and handed to you along with a Styrofoam cup for your sweet tea. Could it be less complicated? Fork over $4.50 for a medium, squeeze a little red pepper vinegar sauce on it and dig in.

For Christmas, my sister-in-law, Ruby, gave me a book listing all the best barbecue restaurants, joints and dives in North Carolina (I already have the one for SC). Thumbing through its pages I enjoyed knowing that I had already visited many of them. But, there are far more that I haven’t tried. So, if you enjoy reading these occasional BBQ columns, I don’t mind doing the research. Bonne appepig, mon ami!

Like many of you, I have had many recent opportunities to participate in discussions about the status and future of social security. Since I’m over 55 and receive very little of my retirement income from social security I really don’t have any urgent reason to be too concerned about its future. However, for the good of my children, grandchildren and younger Americans all of us have a vested interest in how this issue plays out.  

One of my major concerns about Bush’s approach is the denial of social security’s historical past and the realities of the present. 

Prior to the advent of this 70-year-old program Americans relied on their children and families, their private savings and investments, their neighbors, their churches and private charities to provide for them when they were no longer able to support themselves. 

For many this system worked well enough except during periods of economic downturn. For the working poor, however, it was never a workable solution. It is extremely difficult for the poor to engage in savings under any conditions. 

During economic downturns people frequently found their jobs, investments and savings swept away in bank failures, stock market crashes, general business failure, and rising unemployment. Such was the case in the 1930s when the Great Depression presented Americans with the deepest economic slump in their history. 

Now, in case you didn’t notice. What I just described was a totally “privatized” system and nakedly subject to the risk and fluctuations of the economy. So, when Bush continues to insist that social security be privatized he denies that we’ve “been there, done that” and that it didn’t work. 

Realizing that something had to be done to reduce the suffering experienced by the elderly during the depression, President Franklin Roosevelt initiated the Social Security Act of 1935. The idea was to mandate savings to help offset the needs of the aging. It was never meant to be the sole income for retirees but to act as a safety net to provide some guaranteed, risk free, income in the face of certain future economic uncertainty. 

Even with social security, it remained, and remains, imperative that individuals manage their earnings in a sound and prudent fashion, to set aside as much as possible in savings and investments as a hedge against old age. In Bush’s vernacular, people need, “personal investment accounts.” 

Well Dubya, people already have many opportunities for personal investment accounts far beyond just social security. We already have the opportunity to invest in passbook savings plans, money markets, bank certificates of deposit, the stock and bond markets, individual retirement accounts (IRAs), 401K plans, tax deferred annuities, real estate, and countless other avenues of financial planning. 

Having considered a little history and a couple of current realities I just don’t understand why we would want to reintroduce the risk factor to a risk less system that has worked wonderfully for 70 years. Similarly, I can’t understand why we would want to draw funds away from the social security system to establish personal investment accounts when such already exists aplenty.  

I am full aware that social security needs some attention. The system has an Achilles’ heal; the ratio of working Americans to those drawing benefits is in decline. In 1950 there were 15 workers paying into the system for every retiree drawing a check. Today, that ratio is just a little over 3 workers to 1 recipient. 

Look, social security is not broken and it is not broke. It needs some attention but the situation is not the crisis that Bush and his minions are suggesting. By the president’s own admission the system will remain solvent until 2042. That gives us 37 or more years to break out our tweakers and make a few adjustments. We certainly don’t have to rush in and throw the baby out with the proverbial bathwater. 

Social security has always been a thorn in the side of the conservative right and since it’s beginning its elimination has always been one of their goals. Don’t accept this; simply do a little historical research. As I view it, this is but one more conservative attack against this proven piece of New Deal legislation. Why can’t they just accept the 70-year old truth that social security works, is working, and with some prudent thought, can continue to work well into the future? 

Published December, 2004

In November my column attempted to defend social liberalism and to express my viewpoint on a couple of issues important to those of us trying to maintain our individuality in a society that doesn’t always appreciate people being individuals. 

There were several reasons why I chose liberalism as my topic. One was to offer a different perspective to the usual editorial content of the Times-Gazette while another was, as stated in the column, to demonstrate to a couple of my coffee sippin’ buddies what it means to be a social liberal. 

When the column was published I asked one of them what he thought. He responded that he agreed with about 75 percent of it. I requested that he point out specifically which 25 percent he didn’t agree with so I could focus on those things and write a column he didn’t agree with 100 percent. I will freely admit that my goal is to jab this fellow in any of his ribs. 

A day or so later he volunteered that my statement that both conservative and liberal ideologies, “have something to be feared. They both have extreme fringes that are dangerous to the civil liberties of us who live in the great middle. The far right would just as surely deny me my rights as the extreme left would deny you yours” Confused him. He didn’t believe the right offered anything to be fearful of. 

After further discussion it became clear to me that he was one of those too many people who for years supported America’s opposition to the spread of communism without really understanding what communism is. In fact, he confessed that he had always thought that Adolph Hitler and the doctrine of fascism lay to the left of the political spectrum and that fascism and communism were the same. He, in effect, has failed to realize that fascism is the right’s answer to the left’s communism. 

I have no idea how many Americans clearly fail to understand the spectrum of political ideology but my intuition tells me there are many. Having taught government for many years I do know that it’s something that many people struggle with. For those of you who remain confused, let an old teacher give it one more try. Here’s your lesson for today.  

First of all, imagine a line drawn on a piece of paper with a mark indicating its middle. This line represents the scope of political thinking and near that middle mark can be found the ideas that most people believe in. As you move away from that middle marker, however, you are heading to one of the two extremes in political philosophy.   

The further to the left your beliefs go the more you believe that citizens should equally share in the wealth of the nation, that all work is of equal value and that no job should pay more than any other. You also believed that private property is a bane to society and should be outlawed.  

To the far right you’ll find folks who see the world in sort of dog eat dog terms. The acquisition of private property and wealth is the economic motivator and, like in the game of Monopoly, it’s just fine to wind up with more than anyone else.  

A typical example of the above involves wages. Most people in the middle believe that work should bring with it at least a minimum wage. However, as you move further to the right you begin to encounter the idea that employers should only have to pay what workers are willing to accept. To the left you’ll find workers banding together into labor unions and using their collective power to force employers to increase labor’s share of the profits.  

The same thinking applies to things like taxes, social services, medical treatment, etc. The right would lessen taxes and place more of the burden of acquiring basic services and medical care on the individual. The left, conversely, believes that the wealthy should pay higher taxes and those monies should go to help meet the basic needs of all.   

Both extremes believe that government has a part to play. To the left it is government’s role to force and maintain the equal distribution of wealth and on the right government’s job is to protect the accumulated wealth of those who have won the game. While they appear to be vastly different, both extremes do share something in common. They both demand near total conformity to a doctrine and neither is reluctant to use physical force to impose that conformity.  

The two greatest examples of this involve the left’s Joseph Stalin and the right’s Adolph Hitler. Stalin, the communist, is responsible for the estimated death of over 20 million people during his reign. On the right, fascist dictator Hitler is responsible for an additional 20 million victims. Many of those who died were simply folks in the middle who offered resistance or represented some threat to the extreme.  

Please don’t lose sight that all these ideas exist in degrees. Most people on either side of the middle mark see some value in the basic ideas of either side. You can be a little liberal or a little conservative and still be on solid ground. The danger is only when political philosophy begins moving too far in either direction. That’s when the extremists begin reaching into their bag of dirty tricks and people begin disappearing in the night.

If the population were equally divided along this political spectrum there would be few threats to individual liberty. However, such is not the case. That middle mark doesn’t always stay put, it slowly swings back and forth like the pendulum of a clock. Right now it is swinging to the right meaning that we are becoming a more conservative nation and as the middle becomes more conservative it becomes a growing threat to the freedom of those who remain liberal in their thought.  

This swing accounts for the renewed discussion of Constitutional amendments to ban same-sex marriages, protect the flag from desecration, and force the imposition of pro-life ideas. If it continues to swing to the right these threats to individual liberty could become a reality.  

My intention here is not to make this a textbook or get into some deep debate on political ideology. My intention is to provide a few simple definitions and examples of political thought in the hope that we will all have a better understanding of what we share in common, the dangers we face, and possibly think twice about the labels we stick on people’s foreheads.  

If I’ve accomplished my purpose, you’ll be able to read the editorials in this newspaper and clearly understand why my views are considered liberal and the editor’s, Rory Ryan, conservative. Consider that your final exam and if you need any help I’ll be in the teachers’ lounge wishing I still smoked.  

Oh, I know it’s politically incorrect but what the heck, have a Merry Christmas!

Published November, 2004

After lots of further discussion, and while I was leaving, that same fellow said, "Now he says he's a liberal but when you read those columns he writes, there's nothing liberal about them." So, for that fellow I decided to write a column that was unabashedly and without question, liberal. 

I do, in fact, believe that people should have a high degree of personal freedom. I know there has to be limits but I am far less willing to be the person to set those limits than the majority of my more conservative friends. Additionally, my limits would permit a lot more room for personal freedoms and behavior, even if I found those to be repugnant. If my neighbor wants to paint his house hot pink he should be permitted to do so, even if it keeps me awake at night and makes me want to puke. However, if hot pink is proven to attract disease-carrying vermin that threaten the neighborhood's health, then government should possibly step in. 

The same holds true if my neighbors happen to be a married, same sex, couple. It may make me uncomfortable, it may offend my values, but until it is proven to be a direct, and serious, threat to my safety, so what? And, if I give them a chance, I may find them to be likeable folks who basically want the same things out of life in America that I do. 

To me, marriage, as defined by religious tenet can, and should, coexist with marriage as defined by civil law. But, the civil definition of marriage should not exclude the diversity of American society. After all, marriage defined by religious law bridges the wall of separation demanded by the U.S. Constitution. The U.S. Constitution requires that the laws of the land apply equally to all its citizens and to apply a single, religious based, definition of something so personal as marriage would certainly result in an unequal application and thus violate the rights of many.

Conservatives spend lots of time espousing about freedom and liberty but, too often, they seem willing to extend freedom to just those who share their life style, attitudes, aspirations, religion, sexual preference, etc.

Possibly Maine’s former governor, Angus King, said it best when he stated that our society has enemies, “They are poverty, disease, and ignorance; they are not gay people.”

Another fellow at the table that morning was lamenting about how Kerry supporters seemed to be clustered along the Pacific Coast and the Northeast. "Why is that?” he asked. Well, I’m sure there are lots of answers but to begin with, those red-blue election maps distort the truth. They only show how the majority voted. They do not show that lots of voters in all our states voted for the other side.

However, it is true that Democrats have a larger support base along the coastlines and in our major urban centers. This is partly a result of those areas being more ethnically and culturally diverse than in the so-called heartland. A consequence of experiencing population diversity is increased tolerance for ideas, beliefs, lifestyles, etc. that differ from the norm and liberals, by definition, are a more tolerant lot.

Over the years I taught history and government I noticed that the most tolerant students in my classroom were often the children of people who, by the nature of their employment, had lived in a variety of places. These kids had simply seen and experienced more than the other students and knew that there was often, “More than one way to skin a cat.”

You may have noticed in my previous columns that I rarely attempt providing a finite answer to problems. Well, that too is part of being a liberal; we liberals flip-flop. Liberals accept that there is usually more than one correct answer to a problem and that very often, what was accepted as being correct ceases to be correct. Thus, changes in positions and approaches become necessary.

My position on the Iraq War provides an example. I sat on my sofa listening to Colin Powell address the UN about Iraq’s threat to the world. After listening to him speak and considering all the evidence he presented, I went to town and, over lunch, told a friend that the nation had no choice but to take Saddam out.

So, guess what happened? Essentially, everything Powell said that day, and all his evidence, turned out to be incorrect or highly suspect. I don’t think Secretary Powell was lying, I simply think he was given bad advice and inaccurate information. Coming to realize this, was I to remain firm in my support of our preemptive military action? Should I ignore or discount the ever-emerging facts, or should my position reflect the updated information? Well, my position did change and if that makes me a flip-flopper I can only say that being so permits me to sleep well at night.

Over the years I’ve observed that very few laymen could accurately define the term communism. Yet, they willingly approved billions of their tax dollars spent in defense of it. The same is true of the political terms conservative and liberal. People use them to evaluate and/or accuse others but too often don’t have much of a clue as to their true meanings.

The truth is that both ideologies have something to be feared. They both have extreme fringes that are dangerous to the civil liberties of us who live in the great middle. The far right would just as surely deny me my rights as the extreme left would deny you yours. Regardless of our political or social philosophies, a thing we share in common is the threat from those extremes.

When old blues men sang about having the blues they were talking about things like suffering the ills of poverty, woman troubles, loneliness or being mistreated by the boss man. Well, I’ve got the blues but it’s not from anything so serious. 

My case of the blues has two causes. First, I’ve run out of ideas for my monthly column. I’ve wanted to engage in a pre-election rant about the Bush administration, the war in Iraq, the failing economy, the lack of decent jobs, the declining middle-class and not being chosen as the poster child for the Preparation-H Float in this year’s Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. However, since everyone already seems to have decided whom they’ll vote for, and I personally have tired of politics, that won’t work. 

The second cause of my blues is having my favorite fishing hole, Sebastian Inlet, Florida take direct hits from both hurricanes Francis and Jeanie and my next favorite, Pensacola, Florida, literally destroyed by Ivan. Furthermore, Jeanne swept into coastal North Carolina and postponed a planned fishing trip to that locale. I wonder if there’s an old blues song titled, “Can’t Go Fishin’ No Mo’ Blues.” 

So, here I sat with nothing to occupy my time and nothing to write about when out of the blue (notice that connection) came the postman (dressed in blue) with a letter from Master Card. My wife opened it and exclaimed, “They’re ought to be a law against this! How can they get away with this kind of thing?” 

What she was reacting to were some policy changes being addressed by a bank regarding our credit card. We were informed that in the future, any payment received late would result in a $39 late fee. Now, she was hot and I tried to temper her anger by saying that we’re not alone in this; everyone has a complaint about banks and their ever-growing list of fees and incidental service charges. 

I remembered a bit that comedian Tim Wilson did on banks and dug out the CD so my wife could hear his take on the problem. He covered such experiences as being charged a $30 fee for bouncing a $3 check. Wilson’s response was, “Hell, if I don’t have $3 I damn sure don’t have $33!” He continued by telling of a bank in Atlanta that charged $3 for simply telling you the balance in your savings account. He said, “I walked in and asked the teller how much money was in my account and she replied, ‘$300, well, $297 now.’ I said loudly, HOW MUCH? She replied, ‘Uh, $294.’ So, what you’re sayin’ is, if I ask another 98 times I’ll be broke!” 

Well, we all have more than one such story to tell and if you’re my age you know that it all began when banks ceased providing free checks and checking accounts. Now days, there’s very little to find at a bank that’s free. However, in fairness, the teller at the Merchant’s Bank drive thru window did give my dog Sam a Milk Bone biscuit the last time we made a deposit. Tim Wilson thinks that banks should give customers at least a bag of Tootsie Rolls for every $100 they deposit; “Hell, I grew up on bank candy,” he related. Myself, I would prefer a box of Russell Stover’s. 

What seemed to finally establish banks, as the subject of this column was an experience I recently had while applying for a personal note. I had a CD maturing in a couple of weeks but needed some cash to buy a different vehicle. I thought I’d simply take out a short-term note until I received the money from the CD.

So, I called the loan officer at a local bank and asked about getting a note. I was told that it would be no problem but that there would be interest charged on the note plus a $125 processing fee for filling out the paperwork. I said, “$125!” and the bank dude said, “Yeah, we never use to charge anything for this but everyone else started so we did too.” Then he said, “We didn’t charge as much but everyone else kept raising their rates so we did too.” 

Now, as I was absorbing this input something just didn’t seem right. It wasn’t until I had hung up and thought about it for a moment that it hit me. What kind of an lame ass excuse was that for bilking customers out of more of their hard won monies? We’re doing it because everyone else is; we’re raising our fees because everyone else has. You just ask any of our 3 children (now adults) what would have happened if they had come home late and said that they did so because all their friends were breaking their parental curfews! So, if you’re that loan officer and you recognize yourself, take 30-days off without pay, you’re grounded! 

I was watching the news recently and they were telling of a woman who had several credit cards maxed-out and failed to make the payment on one of her cards on time. Automatically, her interest rate was jumped to over 24 percent. Worse yet, that bank shared this info with her other banks and they all jumped her rate to 24 percent, even though she was on time with each of them. Their collective rationale was that if they didn’t treat such marginal risks this way, fewer people would be denied credit cards. Now there’s a concept, people who don’t qualify for credit won’t be given credit cards. Is it possible that we who make our payments on time would be paying lower interest rates if banks didn’t give out credit cards like they were Milk Bones? 

Well, I’ve only begun to tell stories about banks and I’ve already run out of space. I could make this Chapter 1 in a series but I’m sure you can all write your own Chapter 2. 

Banks are a very necessary part of our economic and social system and little would be accomplished if they didn’t exist. We all rely on them, but going back to Christ himself, we’ve not always been satisfied. 

Published September, 2004

There is one absolute truth in life; people lie. Not only do they lie, many enjoy it and some have even elevated it to an art form. 

Both my grandfathers were liars, as was my dad, and to be truthful, so am I. I’m one of those whose enjoys telling a story and tossing in a little spice of embellishment wherever needed. 

To support my thesis that people enjoy lying, just take a look around. This world is full of gathering places where groups of people regularly meet for the main purpose of swapping lies. 

In my grandfather Chapman’s adopted hometown, Joanna, SC, they even formally organized a men’s club for the purpose of meeting each day to exchange fibs. It was/is called the Joanna Men’s Club and has been written up in one of that state’s more prestigious newspapers, The State. 

Each member pays $10 a month and that covers the rent on the old store front they hang around in, keeps the refrigerator humming, the coffee pot perking and a couple of light fixtures burning. 

They’re so organized that they even have rules. You can’t cuss (don’t think I’d last long there), you can’t drink alcoholic beverages (experts don’t need booze to loosen them up), you can’t invite a woman in, and you can’t tell more than 10 lies during a given session (I wonder how often they had to suspend that rule?). 

Liar’s clubs come in all configurations but they are usually male dominated. Women, as a rule, don’t lie, they just gossip. The liars might be a bunch of farmers, a group (like my grandfather’s) of retired mill workers, veterans, old high school or college friends, sports enthusiasts, etc. My brother knows of a group in North Carolina made up of retired Marines. They call themselves The Semper Lie Corp. 

You don’t have to look too deeply around Greenfield to find places where liars congregate. 

Leaverton’s Barber Shop is one such place. Dave Leaverton, besides being the master of the flat top, is also a master of creativity. Some years ago a fellow walked into his shop and asked why the McDonald’s sign was so tall? Instantly, Dave came back with it being because of the new Interstate that was being built just beyond the east edge of Greenfield. “McDonald’s wanted it high enough so travelers on the Interstate could see it soon enough without missing the exit ramp.” 

Sometime later, one of my students came into class asking me if I’d heard about the new Interstate? I instantly replied, “You get your hair cut at Leaverton’s, don’t you?” 

Other clutches of liars can be found at the Quik Stoppe (a.m. or p.m.), Blake’s Coffee Shop (a.m. only) and McDonald’s (all hours of operation). Walk into any of these establishments and you’ll find small groups of men, gathered at tables, hunkered over coffee cups and makin’ up stuff. 

There are a number of ways these groups could be categorized. One major division, however, would be to break them down into those individuals who readily understand that they, on occasion, are telling a lie and those who lie constantly but don’t have a clue that they are. Bobby Everhart told me that one of Greenfield’s worst liars got arrested once for perjury but lied his way out of it! That same person is one of the clueless. He’s lied so long he’s come to believe that everything he says is true! 

South Salem and the Buckskin area are not without their liars. According to Richard Lucas and Al Conaway, the Morton Road Liars, “a group of 12 Buckskin alumni plus strays,” have for years been meeting every Tuesday for a lunch of “boloney” sandwiches, current events, and items of general interest. I recently spent a little time with them and observed no women, no alcoholic beverages, a bias for Democratic politics, and just a little cussing. I could find a home with these guys! 

The community of Rainsboro has a whole herd of liars. The really good ones hang around the Rocky Fork Truck Stop. Although lying has no season, the best lies at the truck stop are usually told on summer evenings by those sitting on the bench outside, watching the sun go down. They don’t say much during the waning minutes before sunset. I’m sure they’re using those last few moments to get their “facts” straight. Come to think on it, though, that’s kind of cheating, since it’s easier to get away with a lie in the dark. 

Years ago I used to hang around Dr. Burris’ home and several times a week his neighbor, C.A. Kenworthy, would drop in and strike up a conversation with Doc. I would sit attentively to the side and absorb the fantastic stories this man would spin. For over a year I accepted every word he uttered as the truth but began to have a hard time accepting that one person could have experienced as many things as he had. 

Come to find out, C.A. Kenworthy was a member of some national association of liars and he was testing out lies on Doc and me. Doc Burris was aware of what was going on but, like I said, it was over a year before I finally figured it out. This was possibly the first time I became aware that people told fibs for sport and pleasure. 

I now know that my grandfather Chapman was just such a person. Behind his home in Joanna there was a stand of large bamboo trees. My granddad would tell me that, as a young man, he earned his keep as a whale fisherman. He claimed that every autumn he would cut him an armload of those bamboo trees and use them as fishing poles on the whaling ships he sailed on. He promised me that one-day he’d cut some poles and take me whale fishing. I still haven’t got the barb of that hook out of my lower lip. 

Now I don’t claim to be as good a liar as C.A. Kenworthy or “Papa” Chapman but I can hold my own in most crowds. I’ll embellish a story to make it a better story or to inject a little humor into it but I attempt to avoid lying for lesser purposes. 

There have been a number of things on my mind lately and any one of them could be the subject of a column. 

For example, I’ve wanted to speak out regarding the teaching of To Kill a Mockingbird. I don’t understand people’s reaction to this book. After all, I didn’t learn the “N” word from reading it. Instead, it helped me understand that the word was hurtful and wrong. 

I continue to be increasingly upset about our involvement in Iraq and think it has been a huge mistake. 

Locally, I don’t like knowing that Highland County, Ohio appears to be a place where one can beat an old woman to death and have it reduced to manslaughter, or rape a 3-year old child and plea bargain it down to a misdemeanor. 

A lot has been written or said already about such heavy subjects and certainly much more will be. So, I think I’ll concentrate on something a little more positive and cheerful for this month’s column. Like, in the words of Cindi Pearce, “Greenfield (and Highland County) rocks!” 

Early in July my wife and I took a look at our dance card and found it full. Full of community activities we wanted to be a part of. 

It actually began in June with the opening event of the town’s Midsummer’s Night on Midway entertainment series. Local garage band, Dumbfounded, opened the season with some g