While many people are afraid to seriously touch the subject of legalizing prostitution, least of all any consideration of the need for lady’s clubs as well as gentlemen’s clubs columnist Herb Benham’s idea of renting or leasing a husband hits pretty close. So close I have to wonder if Herb… But say Herb was being serious; the idea has a lot of merit. Take Mary Graber’s column for example: “51% of women want to be Playboy Bunnies. Much has been made of a recent New York Times article reporting that now a majority (51%) of women live alone. According to the Times, women are now living with their cats and lovin’ it!”

Now what Mary should have done is closet with Herb and me. In combination Mary would realize the merit of Herb’s and my suggestions; that the majority of women may not be satisfied as either Playboy Bunnies or living alone with a cat, but find these a better alternative than a husband. However, I believe many women would far rather have a lady’s club to relieve sexual frustration as an alternative to marriage, one that would have the additional benefit of incorporating Herb’s excellent suggestion of renting or leasing a “husband.” Some women like to have a man around the house. But if he turns out to be a loser or tiresome, if you simply want an upgrade trade him in. Or maybe you just want to be alone for a while; then simply take the “rental” back. The same would be equally true for gentlemen’s clubs; but in the case of the clubs I’m suggesting, civilized and friendly places where there is no commitment or recrimination you needn’t take the woman or the man home with you. Sounds good to me. And what is “serial monogamy” but a form of prostitution, and often a much more costly form.

In the Norman Rockwell America I knew as a boy marriage was all about commitment and fidelity; a life partner with whom you started a family and raised children, someone with whom you could grow old together, the two becoming one and staying together as one as per the Biblical injunction. No longer— that America no longer exists. All the fabled stories and films, all that had to do with love and romance in connection with love and marriage has given place to no-fault divorce, a nanny government, and breeding for a welfare check without any commitment or thought to the future for babies born into hopelessness.

Perhaps if arranged marriages had been a part of the American culture, marriages that could count on strong family ties, support and common values that might have been the better course. While aristocrats, the nobility in some cultures made sure marriage partners were suitable for each other, such arranged marriages have not been a part of American culture for the masses. And even here in America, among some groups the professional matchmaker had an honorable position, not that of the Internet where people lie as a matter of course.

But for a host of reasons, the lines defining the roles of men and women in America have become so blurred as to make the biological distinctions of no moment. Much of this has to do with women intruding into male domains like police and firefighters, into the military and political correctness together with the universities and their product politicians, judges, and media forbids any protest of such things. Women can now have babies without a man, abortion as a means of contraception is sanctioned by law, same sex “marriages” are being demanded by some groups, both men and women flaunt having babies without benefit of marriage and this has become so acceptable in America as to make any commitment to a marriage virtually passé. That millions of children now do not have the benefit of both a mother and father in the home seems of little or no consequence in America today; and most certainly does not carry the moral stigma that was once attached to such a thing. Men and women now cohabit without benefit of marriage, they have children out of wedlock, the lesbian daughter of our Vice-President can have a baby without the benefit of either marriage or a man, not offering anything like a stable home with both mother and father for the resulting baby and one would now be considered “prudish” if voicing any disagreement with such things.

And we may as well speak openly of the fact that children and their future are not relevant to American society. The truth of this is so blatantly obvious as to need no comment. For children to have the best prospects of growing up with a future and becoming good citizens, productive members of society with good moral standards requires a stable home with a mother and a father. Such homes are becoming increasingly scarce in America, and our whole society is suffering from this loss.

However, wishful thinking will not turn back the clock to the America of Norman Rockwell. So, to accept America for what it has become those “social clubs,” the legalizing of prostitution seems by far the most sensible and civilized alternative to marriage. And given the legal morass marriage and family has become, especially with no fault divorce which virtually never has the concern for the welfare of children in view who needs the grief?

Some may smile at elderly couples getting together without the benefit of marriage because they would be penalized financially if they should marry. So, “living in sin” becomes the alternative for some senior citizens. But this is no less the case for younger couples facing many of the same financial difficulties of marriage.

America has become such a social witch’s brew of laws, lawyers, and courts as to make marriage and children fraught with so many obstacles together with a nanny government aiding and abetting the lunacy of it all I don’t wonder many men and women have simply thrown in the towel. Who needs the grief?

But given the facts of the case, it is well known it takes a superior culture to support marriage and family, to limit births to only the number of children that can be provided for. And here is where America is facing a very real threat from Mexico. With millions of illegal aliens having babies in America and our nanny government supporting these illegal aliens and their babies with the money extorted from the legitimate citizens of America through taxation without representation there has to be a reckoning for such lunacy. We can look at the third world nations in Africa, at Mexico where the indiscriminate breeding resulting in multiplied millions of unproductive mouths demanding to be fed by the productive is threatening famine and disease of horrendous proportions.

Birth control is the prerogative of only the most civilized nations. This is why Mexico sends its citizens to America by the millions. Mexico will not teach birth control, will not provide for its own citizens. That corrupt nation will send its citizens to America to be supported. But just try to get Mexicans in America to practice birth control. Not when We the People are extorted to pay for the resulting babies, and at the expense of the future for our own children. That the wealthy in both America and Mexico profit from this slave labor makes any political solutions to the problem all but impossible. Kern County suffers mightily from supporting illegal aliens with eight children on welfare, these illegal aliens looking for a “better life” at the expense of legitimate American citizens thanks to a Federal Triune Dictatorship favoring the wealthy benefiting from slave labor.

An honest discussion of marriage and family, even of legalizing prostitution can only be had with civilized people. I don’t expect such an honest discussion with those that believe illegal aliens are good for America. Marriage and family are expensive propositions for the legitimate citizens of America. But when a nanny government steps in to support illegal aliens at the expense of legitimate American citizens, this has not a little to do with why so many are giving up on marriage.

I haven’t switched topics here; many of you will understand the connection between the suggested social clubs and things like Mexico invading America wholesale. The tearing of the fabric of American culture, the loss of the “glue” holding America together by a national identity based on a common heritage, culture, language and secure borders can only spell the end of an America honoring and supporting marriage and family with the needed values to keep America a nation offering hope of a future to our children.

Take a look around us today. Are we to be defined by “Press one for English,” or a nation with a genuine identity as a nation based on a common heritage, culture, language and secure borders? And if we have been betrayed of our identity as a nation, how in God’s name are we to have strong families, the foundation of America supporting American ideals? The very idea you can have a nation of “Press one for English” and support an American identity is preposterous! The chance of legalizing prostitution has far better odds. And, in my opinion, would serve America far better.

What with all the deserved cynicism on the part of We the Great Unwashed, with all the nuclear saber rattling going on worldwide just how do those of us in Kern County expect to get the attention of the powers that be to a local problem like the Isabella Dam? Compared to the threats America is facing because there is no accountability on the part of politicians, if the dam bursts it will be in the media euphemism of Thoreau’s day “a melancholy accident” with those responsible crying the usual crocodile tears while wringing their hands and calling for Pilate’s Laver. But we locals are assured by our leaders that by their naming the Isabella Dam the number one dam in the entire nation in danger of bursting attention is being paid; and here is the scene right out of the film “Dante’s Peak.” All the warnings are in place, but there is no urgency on the part of those in power to take the necessary immediate action. Don’t you wonder why? Could it be as in the film a matter of economics vs. lives?

Caesar Bush ignored everything he did not want to hear in order to get his wars. That such a course had no exit strategy came with the territory. In the broader scheme of things this may yet turn out well as some defenders of Caesar are saying, we can hope the Isabella Dam will not burst, but it remains a disquieting fact those holding power are not inclined to listen to criticism; and just so with the Isabella Dam in my opinion. Bush is being asked, quite understandably and legitimately, What is the fix and when? And, for those of us concerned about the Isabella Dam we have every right to ask, What is the fix and when?

As I have already written previously addressing the issue of the dam, I was living here in the Kern River Valley while the dam was under construction. I overheard some of the workers at the time saying “I sure wouldn’t want to be living below this thing.” But I was a boy at the time far more interested in girls, cars, hunting, and fishing than I was about any threats the dam might pose for “flatlanders,” and little did I appreciate at the time the threat this would pose to all those in both the Kern River Valley and Bakersfield, I had no idea of how this area would grow, how many people would eventually be in harm’s way should the dam fail.

In retrospect, I realize it may have been known to the experts the dam should not have been built; which would explain the remarks I overheard from those involved with the construction. I would be surprised if the dangers were not known at the time when the dam was first being contemplated and the original studies of the site made. So why, if these dangers were known was the dam built anyway? In a word: Money.

There was a lot of money to be made by the dam. To be sure there were the economic benefits; there were the genuine issues of flood control and so on. But the bottom line throughout, as to be expected, was the economic benefit to those profiting from the construction of the dam, the moving of the old town of Kernville, moving the old cemetery, those of us locals including me who made wages doing some of the work, a little something for everyone involved.

In his book “Night Flight,” French philosopher Antoine de Saint-Exupery writes about the building of a bridge. It is known that in order to build this bridge lives will be lost, but the decision to build the bridge goes forth. Why, Saint-Exupery wonders, since life is considered to be the most valuable of all, far above any material considerations, the decision to go forward with constructing this bridge? The simplest explanation in the case of the bridge, and all other such works, is economic benefit; and this trumps life. But it only trumps life on the basis of who profits. Follow the money. Virtually never do such decisions place the wealthy in harm’s way.

No one questions we have a dysfunctional government due largely to the fact politicians lie to get elected then lie to stay elected. This continued path of lies for the sake of power and wealth has to lead to destruction for America. Just the refusal to secure our borders for the sake of the wealthy profiting from the slave labor of illegal aliens thereby inviting nuclear and biological terrorism in America is lunacy based on greed and avarice.

The Katrina disaster and tragedy certainly proved how our government at all levels is a shambles. From 9/11 through Katrina there has been no accountability, no one in government held responsible and punished. Nagin continues to work for his “chocolate city” with every expectation of taxpayers supporting this and a politically correct media is emasculated from confronting his blatant racism, but the world recognizes it for what it is. Follow the money and you will find politicians irrespective of race including Nagin expecting to profit from any rebuilding of New Orleans.

Ok, so politicians despite 9/11 and Katrina continue doing business as usual expecting to profit from the misery being visited upon We the People, continue to extort us through taxation without representation to feather their own nests and those of their corporate bosses. In just such a manner it is my opinion was the Isabella Dam built. And like New Orleans, the fact it was a disaster just waiting to happen was of little consequence to politicians and their corporate bosses. But trying to hold any in government accountable, trying to get answers to why there were so many failures built not only into the levees of New Orleans but other construction projects like Isabella Dam is an exercise in futility. That lives are lost due to this lack of accountability whether of 9/11 or Katrina is a “melancholy accident,” one for which no one in a position of leadership is accountable.

There are many of us here in the Kern River Valley and in Bakersfield that are quite justifiably anxious about the potential failure of the dam; a potential that would appear an inevitability. I’ve talked with several people about this, but those in the real estate business most certainly do not want it talked about; nor do the politicians want to talk about it. For example, I received the following note recently from a friend of mine in Bakersfield:

Sam; I see a bit more information concerning the dam. Mostly as you know bad. For some reason, the lake is being filled rather than keeping it low. I spoke with Thomas Lewis yesterday who had written the article in the Wednesday local section (Bakersfield Californian). He was very interested in my ideas of prevention by blasting. He like yourself felt it to be something that could really work. He really liked my idea of blasting the Kern River gorge above the Johnsondale Bridge. I think we need some good old fashioned “town hall meetings “. Your contacts would be a good place to start... I’d like to see an “Isabella Dam” website with a chat room for a couple of thoughts. Another thing Sam, is why in the hell our planning department continues to issue permits within the flood zone? Rather than spend the money for land based sirens like in his article, why not just meet with the Bakersfield Police Dept, the Sheriffs Dept, Hall Ambulance, Fire Dept, and Highway Patrol. They would know about the dam if it breached and if properly organized could use their loudspeakers and sirens in the needed areas. Frankly I’m worried; our head in the sand approach is not making any headway. I stand to loose my home and 2 businesses in the event of the dam bursting. We need someone who has inroads to Congress and Arnie. I’ve called Bill Thomas’ office and Kevin McCarthy with no help.

I would say to my friend if the dam should burst catastrophically due to an earthquake there will be no time for sirens to be effectual; and there is no one in politics willing to acknowledge the truth of things. To do so, they would have to go back into the history of the dam, naming those that were making the decisions for it being built, what they knew and when they knew it, and who profited from its being built. Ah, then we would know why lives were being placed in danger for profits. But here are a few facts. No politician will be held accountable; none of those who profited from the building of the dam will be held to account should the dam burst.

There are hundreds of billions of dollars available for wars but none to secure our borders or repair the infrastructure of America, and despite all warnings there is no money or urgency for fixing Isabella Dam. And in respect to the latter, I do wonder how it would be “fixed” in any event? Could the foot-dragging have to do with this? Could this be the reason politicians are proving so reluctant to address this issue? I would not be surprised. And what would be gained by Townhall meetings if we are not told the truth? Certainly such meetings should be held if for no other reason than to discuss the options, but what is sorely needed is for politicians, not hired toadies or bureaucrats to tell us the facts of the matter.

The truth of the matter is that the business of America is business, and God help those that get in the way of business! The Godfather was a very pragmatic realist; there is little difference between government and organized crime, and “only the little people pay taxes,” only the little people died in Katrina, Nagin, the governor et al. were safe, only the little people will die if the dam fails and I submit all the dangers of building Isabella Dam were known before its construction and if it bursts it will only be a “melancholy accident” and as with 9/11 and Katrina none in Congress, our state legislature and local elected officials or their corporate bosses will be held accountable.

I don’t want women in the military where they are placed in harm’s way; I don’t want them as cops on patrol or as firefighters where they are ill-suited physically. But we men cannot be faulted for taking some degree of mild interest in the way women are handling themselves in the political arena. Forget the way men are pummeling each other, that’s old hat. Ah, but how the fair sex pummels each other using their most dangerous weapon, their verbal skills against each other; that’s a grabber. Men are used to this, having largely brought it upon themselves, but no-holds barred verbal beating of woman on woman is something to behold.

In “The Music Man” the mayor says “You watch your phraseology” when hearing anything he thinks bordering on blue speech. I wonder how he would respond to Ann Coulter’s column “I am woman, hear me bore: Speaking of which, the horny hick’s wife finally ended the breathless anticipation by announcing that she is running for president. I studied tapes of Hillary feigning surprise at hearing about Monica to help me look surprised upon learning that she’s running.”

Now, I know Bill and Hillary are white trash just putting on airs, I have written about them being in Mammy’s words “nothing but mules in horse’s harness” but without any of the redeeming virtues of Rhett and Scarlett; however, “horny hick’s wife?” Lordy! Ann; “watch your phraseology.” We all know Bill is a horny hick, but goodness gracious certain proprieties should be observed, and few things are so detrimental to making a point than to skewer yourself with improper phraseology in the public forum.

It is true a couple of years ago Ann sent me a brief note. She had been on the mailing list for The Weedpatch Gazette and the note very succinctly read: “Remove Immediately!” Well, rather than taking umbrage being the gentleman I am I did as requested, and I sure didn’t want to invite Ann’s verbal skills being practiced on me. But it did occur to me it must have been something I said, and being a gentleman I knew it couldn’t have been my phraseology. However, given Ann’s continued support of Caesar Bush and my outspoken criticism of him I don’t doubt she just didn’t want to hear it. But Ann’s rebuff has not prevented me continuing to read her column by which I find useful information about the thinking of right wing conservatism. And this is the way you not only keep informed, but you allow differing points of view to your own perspective of issues and people.

Some may take my speaking to the issue of the need of women in the decision making processes of world governments as taking the side of women. But it is not a matter of “taking sides,” it is not a matter of combativeness or competition, but a matter of what should be the compatibility of differences between men and women, something sorely needed in making decisions impacting upon a host of issues facing humankind.

Al Gore learned very quickly but too late from that “kiss of death” during the presidential campaign men forcing themselves upon women does not play well in Peoria. I’m a great fan of kissing women, always have been. But I also know the best kissing requires real sincerity on the part of the participants. The wooden Al just didn’t come across with the required sincerity, and his “performance” seemed totally out of character. Now why didn’t Al have the same unfeigned passion for his wife he came to show about global warming, a passion that may win him an Oscar? I’d give a pretty to be a fly on the wall as Al and Tipper have that discussion. And who could blame Al’s wife for upbraiding him to the effect “Why didn’t you give that kind of Oscar performance with me and while you were running for President?”

Sexual frustration takes many forms besides that of “Desperate Housewives.” But it is a tragedy for humankind it often takes the direction of violence against women, and in too many cases of men against men whether individually or in the wars men make. This has been one of the reasons for my advocating legalizing prostitution. However, my reasoning includes gentlemen’s clubs where men have opportunity to talk to women in an unfeigned atmosphere conducive to conversation without the competition and combativeness as well. It’s the old story of “My wife doesn’t understand me.” But women have the same trouble with their husbands. So there should be those lady’s clubs also. Just think of all the sexual frustration that could be relieved on the part of both men and women in an atmosphere where there is no recrimination, where both men and women get a chance to talk to each other in neutral territory. Now that to my mind is “civilized,” especially where sexual frustration can be legally relieved without either violence or recrimination.

There seems no end of books and talk shows, films all revolving around the frustration of men and women in relationships. But an honest discussion debating the merits of legalizing prostitution in America, of gentlemen’s and lady’s clubs seems anathema even among those that like to be considered “liberal.” But who doesn’t think it would be interesting, if not downright fun, to watch and listen to pundits in the MSM having an honest discussion on the subject.

I believe Ann should be able to avail herself of a lady’s club, a place where she could vent her own sexual frustration by talking to men in a non-judgmental atmosphere; it wouldn’t make Bill any less a horny hick, it wouldn’t make Al any less wooden with Tipper, but I believe Ann, Hillary, Nancy, and others would profit mightily from such a thing. Why, it could mean peace in our time!

“A certain awkward consciousness of inferiority in the men, may give rise to the new chivalry in behalf of Women’s Rights. Certainly, let her be as much better placed in the laws and in social forms, as the most zealous reformer can ask, but I confide so entirely in her inspiring and musical nature, that I believe only herself can show us how she shall be served.”

To read Emerson’s comments about women is to gain insight into why some including me accord him the place of the greatest intellect America has ever produced. To his immense credit concerning social commentary he recognized that while those like Scott and others had given women position in society, men could never do for women what they needed to do for themselves, nor would the majority of men ever give women the opportunity to show how they should be served, and not a little of this continued subjugation of women to lesser status has to do with “A certain awkward consciousness of inferiority in the men” that has not to this day fulfilled Emerson’s hope it “may give rise to the new chivalry in behalf of Women’s Rights.”

The best of men like Emerson have always recognized the need for a “new chivalry in behalf of Women’s Rights,” knowing such a thing was needed on the historical basis of the fact men make wars while women attempt to make homes. It is this civilizing influence of girls and women the best of thinkers have recognized as essential to the progress of civilization. But the best of thinkers like Emerson also knew so long as women were subjugated to the status of anything less than equal value to men there was no hope for even the most civilized nations escaping the history of humankind being one of continual wars.

We have women in America today who are well placed in politics, there is even the thought a woman for President may become an actuality. But just as trade curses everything it touches though it be dealing in messages from heaven, so with politics. And while the softer and gentler part of that distaff half of humankind is sorely needed in all leadership positions, especially those in which the decisions are made about war, what is lost of virtue in attaining political power is no less for women than for men. It isn’t power over men that will best serve women; it is that new chivalry on the part of men in behalf of Women’s Rights, a new chivalry that only women in their best estate can possibly encourage showing how they shall be served, not in the shrill voice of harpies nor abusing the power of their sex, but in their distinctive “inspiring and musical nature.”

“Donnie and Jean, an angel’s story” is an unabashed romantic novel. The story revolves around two twelve year old children in Bakersfield during WWII and shortly thereafter who are discovering love for the first time. Fortunately for Donnie, he has a great-grandmother who was quite knowledgeable and well-educated, capable of leading him through the morass of so many misconceptions he had about girls, misconceptions he was being forced to reconsider because of his meeting this angel, Jean, who was unlike any other girl he had ever known.

For the first time in his life Donnie recognizes girls and women make music simply by their speaking, kind of like the birds singing, that “inspiring and musical nature” of which Emerson takes note begins to become intelligible to Donnie; and as a consequence he begins the civilizing process of paying close attention to matters of dress and personal hygiene, paying closer attention to his manner of speech and behavior; all this transformation in his life because he met a very special girl; Jean.

But Jean has her own problems; she had never met a boy like Donnie. And now she had to confront the things she used to resent about being a girl, and start getting used to the very confusing elements that went into what was going to be required of her eventually becoming a woman. That all of this is so very confusing to both children as well as the adults in their lives is the reason it took me four years to write the book. However, it wasn’t until some people remarked on the profound intellectual struggles to be found in the book I realized it was indeed far more than a story about two children, it was about the whole confusing society into which the children were born and how this confused society was in so many ways contradictory to what the children believed should actually be the state of things, it was Thoreau wishing he had the wisdom of childhood, a wisdom that adults forsake for the sake of “reality;” it is Harper Lee’s pointing out only children weep over injustice, but when they get a little older they won’t cry about it anymore. Which is why Atticus expresses the whimsical thought a police force of children might not be that bad an idea.

Alas for humankind the ideals and wisdom of childhood are betrayed as we grow up into the “real world” and the “realities of life.” But Jesus said unless we become as little children we cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven. I don’t doubt Jesus had in mind children like Donnie and Jean.

Jean’s father is a Baptist minister. But as a father and single parent having to confront his little girl growing up, her meeting this boy Donnie and what is obviously taking place between the two children plays a role in his coming to question his religious beliefs ever as much as Donnie is having to deal with his misconceptions, actually his prejudices about the “proper” role of girls in society. As his great-grandmother points out to him, there is nothing wrong with a girl enjoying shooting and fishing, even building model airplanes. These had been foreign to Donnie’s thinking about girls before he met Jean and “grandma” began to help him overcome his prejudices.

There seem too few adults capable of counseling children, too few like Donnie’s great-grandmother to lend needed guidance when the issues of life begin to make demands on children. But while Emerson recognized the need for women to take their needed and rightful place of equal value in society, I felt these 160 odd years later something further needed to be said on behalf of children, and especially for girls like Jean that can have such a profound influence on boys like Donnie, as well as the surrounding adults in the children’s lives.

While we read so much of “girls gone wild” where is the society that would encourage girls to be ladies and boys to be gentlemen? Conspicuous by its absence. It has come to the point where I have said America seems to have degenerated into a society that hates children. It is certainly not a society that cherishes children.

At one point in the book Donnie asks himself how anyone could consider Jean to be of any less value than a boy? But Donnie had been raised in a society that taught girls were of lesser value than boys, women were of lesser value than men. It was just the “way of things.” But as he encroaches upon mature thinking because of Jean, he has to deal with the same issue in regard to race. Why should the color of one’s skin make someone inferior to others? But in Little Oklahoma, in Bakersfield this was the “way of things.” It would take a girl like Jean; it would take good people like her father, Donnie’s great-grandmother and grandparents to help him sort it all out.

It takes good parents to have good children. It takes good leaders to have a good society encouraging good families. There has to be good men and women to encourage others to be good men and women. But we seek in vain today to find proper role models, good people of proven virtue to encourage children and families.

Yes, I continue to believe there is a “spirit of wickedness” pervading throughout history and throughout the world today. Seeming lunatic decisions being made by lunatic leaders. But nowhere is such seeming lunacy as prevalent as in the way children are abused in so many different ways.

I recall a time, the time of Donnie and Jean when families could plan a future for their children, when the children of good families would lead and instruct them, help them to determine their prospects in life. It should have been a time when Emerson’s thoughts on the subject of the proper chivalry arising from women taking their proper place in the scheme of things would at last come to fruition. But it is a mistake to confuse “rights” with “value” whether of race or gender. And it took Jean; it took good people in his life for Donnie to finally understand Emerson’s conclusion about women: “but I confide so entirely in her inspiring and musical nature, that I believe only herself can show us how she shall be served.”

In George Babbitt of Zenith, Sinclair Lewis showed the power of conformity often leading to the vacuity to be found in American life. In both Main Street and Babbitt, Lewis skewered the axiom “The business of America is business,” an oftentimes poignant satire on the meanness of lives of “quiet desperation” recognized by Thoreau and so many before Lewis put pen to paper. But the genius of Lewis in portraying such lives of quiet desperation led to his being the first American to win a Nobel for literature.

A Community Voice column in the Bakersfield Californian titled “City mustn’t forsake literary heritage” by Gerald Haslam would lead one to think poets are the only writers of note by which a “literary heritage” should be acknowledged. This is the typically elitist thinking that denies the actual literary heritage of America, which is not in its poets but the great writers like Lewis by which America earned its place as a literary nation. A far better measure of Kern County’s literary heritage is to be found in the Weedpatch Memorial Library, to which I have made a modest contribution from some of my own writing.

I am justifiably proud of my literary award from The Writers of Kern. As a “home boy” such an award proves someone from Weedpatch can actually be literate and write well. And I am only one among many in Kern County that are literate and can write well, but when it comes to what is too often only sophistry attempting to pass as “poetry” I have little patience for such pretense; which, of course, brings me to the point for my addressing the issue of a high class whorehouse in Bakersfield. And in the words of JFK I say “why not?” Come to think of it, there have been times when the White House has been host to… but I digress.

No one who knows me well would accuse me of naiveté, least of all when it comes to sex, made unashamedly and indelibly clear in my non-fiction book “Birds With Broken Wings,” some of the stories having to do with “working girls” I have known. And while I believe legalizing prostitution would be the right thing for America, I have no illusions about the prospect for such a thing happening. Still, in that fantasy world where writers often dwell in their heads the images of such a thing happening and what this could mean to American culture conjure up all sorts of fascinating and tantalizing possibilities.

While many writers, Lewis among them, wrote about whorehouses and the prominent role these have always played in American cities since before the Revolution and continuing on to this day, most writers of any stature have been of necessity somewhat circumspect in doing so, knowing well how they might call down the wrath of civic and church leaders were they to be absolutely truthful and candid about the subject. At that, while “gentlemen’s clubs” flourished the very idea that women should be entitled to the equivalent “lady’s clubs” would be anathema. But in all fairness, when it comes to the issue of equality in the best sense of the word there should be no double standards of race, religion, or sex.

Now if Lewis was able to write today on the subject of a high class whorehouse in Bakersfield, a contemporary Zenith peopled by Babbitt’s, I cannot but believe he would find a wealth of material for satire and parody just on the basis of the objections made to such a thing. Btown abounds in pretentiousness, so many attempts to make it a toney town all the while suffering the small town strictures of conformity leading to the vacuity of lives of quiet desperation. In all my years of experience with Kern County in general and Bakersfield in particular there is no escaping the kind of conformity that is much more like Babbitt and Zenith; and this is certainly accentuated here in the Kern River Valley where I now dwell, which is one of the reasons I live in near reclusive isolation from society. Someone of note replying to my first article about a whorehouse in Bakersfield asked, “Why don’t you put that in the Kern Valley Sun?” To which I replied with the words from the song “Oh, that’ll be the day…”

Bakersfield has an image problem. Imagine someone like Haslam expressing any consternation over why Bakersfield “poets” are not taken seriously in the literary world. The first thought that came to my mind when I read the piece was “You have just got to be kidding!” It reminded me of Sam Clemens remarking on the young man claiming to be a poet. “The trouble,” Sam said, “was his trying to get other people to believe he was a poet.” The literary doomsday name Bakersfield aside, one only has to do a search of the status of so-called “poetry” in America today to get the point. There is too much truth to the saying, “I may not know much about art, but I know what I like.” There are scams galore in the field of poetry, so-called “contests” of every kind, but just try to find a literary agent for anyone believing they are a poet or legitimate publishing houses looking for poets.

Now I have had book signings at Russo’s Books at the Marketplace. And talk about being surrounded by culture; this is where it is, where the literary folks of Kern County are in their proper environment. But whether Russo’s or any other upscale bookstore in Bakersfield, here you will find the proper environment for lovers of literature; the real cultural elite of Kern County. And one can only be thankful Bakersfield is not being judged and further demeaned on the basis of its “poets.” But one thing I miss is being able to have a cigarette, pipe or cigar with my cup of coffee while discussing literature with others. And I don’t doubt posters of famous literary figures will eventually for the sake of political correctness have their cigarettes, pipes and cigars air-brushed out of existence, much in the same way many famous figures of history and their association with whorehouses is often ignored.

Ah, but if prostitution were legalized and a truly grand Pleasure Palace were to open in Downtown complete with smoking rooms; now that, folks, would be the stuff of dreams. I would then say to literary pretenders in the most politically incorrect language; “Put that in your pipe and smoke it.” And it boggles the mind to consider what Sinclair Lewis would write about Bakersfield then. No Zenith of small minded Babbitt’s, but a city with a real claim to grandeur, sophisticated beyond the pretensions of San Francisco.

Granted such a high class whorehouse would be available only to the wealthy, but if prostitution were legal in no time at all other places would be made available to those of modest means. And so long as they were properly legalized with all the protections in place both men and women would be safer than the present system that encourages so much crime and disease.

Few knowledgeable people would disagree with the sentiment and oft expressed opinion that Kern County is a cultural wasteland. It isn’t that my native county has ever suffered a lack of talented and artistic people, some of this wasteland has to do with geography as much as anything else. Then too, our county suffers from a preponderance of low wage earners, too many people on the dole, abysmally low education due in no small part to the county playing host to so many non-English speaking illegal aliens, a host of problems plaguing the county accentuating the difficulties to be overcome; all of these things detrimental to the image of Kern County and the city of Bakersfield.

Ok, so I’m a humorist and I’m having fun pulling a few legs, but faced with such seemingly insurmountable problems to putting Btown on the cultural map, as someone who would like to have justifiable cultural pride in my native county and hometown, when I cast about in my mind what could be done to change our image a world class brothel, fitted and appointed with great art and décor, seemed more plausible than attempting anything else. The nattering nabobs of negativism are quickly circling the wagons, opposing such a thing. Preachers will take to pulpits denouncing the very idea of such a thing; civic leaders will expound on how preposterous the whole idea is, how it would be a shame and disgrace all the while ignoring the fact politicians avail themselves of illicit sex and drugs often at taxpayer expense. But wouldn’t it be fun to see editorials discussing the merits or lack thereof of such a thing. That alone would be sure to draw attention to Btown from the rest of the country. Ah, the hypocrisy of it all. It is the stuff of great literature like that of Sinclair Lewis, denouncing such hypocrisy and small minds.

No, I am not going to call those who understandably disagree with me “small-minded.” Those who thoughtfully disagree in a civilized manner have every right to do so and I welcome their input. But removed from fantasy to reality, since I do not oppose abortion I understand how abortion on demand as a means of contraception devalues life. But I also believe women have every right to the decisions about abortion, and I also believe they have every right to protect themselves from “back alley” abortions, not to mention the men that rut like animals then take no responsibility for the resulting babies but expect women to take responsibility and taxpayers to foot the bill. In just this same way I believe women have every right to make the decisions about prostitution without penalty of law. After all, men have historically made this claim for themselves, and I say: A pox on this hypocritical double standard!

Since I am known as a writer of humor, it was gratifying to receive so many notes from people who got a laugh out of my suggesting I would like to see a “gentlemen’s club” in downtown Bakersfield. While many people commenting understood the significance of my support for legalizing prostitution and treated it with the seriousness such a thing deserves, it was the name “Bakersfield” being associated with a fancy, legal whorehouse that tickled not a few funny bones. And by golly, I’m tired of Bakersfield being the butt of derisive jokes having this image problem and propose doing something about it!

While I was born in Weedpatch, I have always considered Bakersfield my hometown. And I have fond memories of the Dust Bowl folks among whom I was raised, many fond memories of our little church and grocery store on the corner of Cottonwood and Padre, and I know first hand the kind of nobility associated with the best of those Okies and Arkies with their polite southern manners and speech so characteristic of long held traditions of such things.

But let’s face it folks, when anyone says “Hollywood, Beverly Hills, Malibu, San Francisco” these names conjure up a certain image. And, when anyone says “Bakersfield” this conjures up a certain image; and it certainly is quite distinct from that of the other cities mentioned. And people are not going to confuse CSUB with Stanford or Berkeley. However, perhaps because of my being born in Weedpatch I may be a tad more conscious of and sensitive to the name of one’s birthplace, and maybe that has something to do with my sticking up for Bakersfield. That said I do understand the importance of perception. And I want to do my bit in changing the perception of Bakersfield.

The progress of civilization owes much to those like Charles Dickens, Upton Sinclair, John Steinbeck and others, gifted writers who could make the plight of children and working people so touchingly clear it forced politicians to take notice and act. But unlike Karl Marx, the writers in the English and American traditions never lost sight of the need for Emerson’s “strong natures,” those rare people who by brute force overcame enormous obstacles of nature and lesser men, seized power, and once having done so founded dynasties that would eventually lead to the betterment of humankind with civilized families giving rise to the arts, to the true Lady and Gentleman, those without affectation that would lead by virtue instead of the physical force required of their brutish ancestors.

Having graduated from Mira Costa High School in Manhattan Beach, my having lived and loved much of my young adult life among the Lotus Eaters of that Camelot of my youth now only seen in films like “Gidget” I am well qualified to speak knowledgeably about the subject of a whorehouse in Bakersfield.

No one is going to dispute the fact Bakersfield has an image problem, and I’m not going to belabor the many reasons this is the case. But it is time the city fathers, and mothers, came to grips with what is required to change this image of Btown being a harbor of brutish people of brutish ancestors and begin to think seriously about making it a toney town of refined, civilized people with civilized manners and an appreciation for real culture. A “squiggle” isn’t going to do the job, and while I recall the Bakersfield Arch with fondness since it was first constructed so many years ago over Union Avenue, the move to its new location only enhanced the poor image of my hometown. While I love good C&W and have played and sung in some real honky tonks the Arch and Buck Owens, a Crystal Palace only emphasizes the word “Hick.”

But a whorehouse, a real gentleman’s club with all the embellishments of the old Ambassador Hotel with its Coconut Grove, something rivaling Grauman’s Chinese Theater and having its own Walk of Fame, the stars to be named for the most talented of the ladies, a virtual palace gilded inside and out, garishly shouting “Whorehouse!”- Absolutely that would enhance the image of Bakersfield! And when anyone would mention “Downtown” the term would have real significance. And once some minor scruples against the idea have been overcome, I’m certain not a few church leaders would see the wisdom of my suggestion; that is the leaders not of the mindset women should be subservient to men, the kind of “barefoot and pregnant” thinking already associated with the denizens of Bakersfield.

Now I grant you such a world class brothel would generate real interest far beyond the confines of downtown Bakersfield. The city boasts its annual Business Conference but just think of how many more worldwide would attend if they knew they had a world class Pleasure Palace to which they could resort following the conference. The world leaders of corporations would be falling all over each other to attend! If you can relate to the profound philosophy in “Paint Your Wagon” you readily understand my point. Why should local folks have to travel to the Getty for some refinements of civilized culture?

Let’s say some really far-sighted civic leaders in Bakersfield should see the wisdom of my suggestion. Granted it would take real courage to speak out on this and support the idea; but the one thing that more than any other standing in the way of our leaders, whether local, state, or federal taking up for the working girl and acting on my suggestion is the fact politicians do not want the competition in a field they consider their own turf, especially since their idea of “servicing” the public makes a mockery of the legitimate working girl and prostitution as an honorable occupation by comparison.

One of the things I would like to see here in the Kern River Valley and in downtown Bakersfield is a “gentleman’s club,” you know, a brothel. But not just a whorehouse, an upscale nicely appointed palace of vice right out of a Hollywood production. Ideally these places would also provide marijuana legally. Such establishments properly regulated and taxed would be a real boon to local economies.

For that very small minority that might object to such a thing, consider the fact Walt Kelly made so clear in Pogo when discussing the presidential elections a “Vice Party” was suggested and Churchy asks Owl, “Deep down, wouldn’t you be for vice too … given the chance?” My dear brothers and sisters, no matter how you slice it a Vice Party is exactly what both Republicans and Democrats represent. Were these honest vice parties I would find no fault in that. But one of the problems I have with this is politicians of every stripe allow of every kind of vice among themselves including prostitution and illegal drugs, often at taxpayer expense, but hypocritically deny these vices to We the People! And quite frankly this makes me mad as hell! Why should the very vices politicians treat as their personal domain coming with elected office be made illegal and denied ordinary American citizens?

While historians and behavioral scientists have not made it much of an issue, sexual frustration may account for many of the wars of men as well as many of the more noble achievements. After all, for many men and women a cold shower just does not suffice; and much of our history as a species may well be understood in the light of sexual frustration on the part of both men and women.

Now I am all for traditional marriage and families as the foundation of all civilized societies. I am a staunch supporter of the sanctity of marriage, the sacredness of the marriage bed. But I am at least equally opposed to the kind of hypocrisy that denies sex is a normal function of the human species and makes it a crime for relieving one’s sexual frustration by simple mechanism of economics. There is all this foofaraw over abortion, so many women claiming they have the right to determine what to do with their own bodies while at the same time denying the “working girl” the same right. And what of the men in Congress and elsewhere that legislate and pass laws self-righteously denying women this right to their own bodies? Hypocrites!

The right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness should have included prostitution. After all, this was thriving at the time of the Founding Fathers, it was quite acceptable in most of the civilized societies at the time and throughout history, and it is doubtful the early years of our government could have been successful without a plentiful supply of bordellos. If our early legislators did not see these establishments as threatening to home and hearth, what happened to change their minds? All the other biological functions of the body are carefully attended, enormous amounts being spent on bathrooms for example, why the normal function of sex is suppressed is the stuff of history and books by the thousands.

Of course, in societies where women are made dependent on men, where “poor Jenny, bright as a penny” in the song decides “getting herself a husband is the thing to do” the historical disparaging of prostitution is in full force, and in a world dominated by men it is in their interest to continue subjugating women, refusing the “working girl” equal status with the honorable occupations, which may have something to do with women never achieving the status of equal value to men. Boys will be boys and men will be men, but girls and women dare not be girls and women in the same way. Solomon spouted off about the lack of virtuous women, but apparently didn’t think this standard of virtue should apply to men, an infamous double standard that has held sway throughout the history of humankind.

But in all honesty, why should there be a different standard of “virtue” applied to women than applies to men? Where is the logic in men are expected to be and accepted as “experienced” while women are supposed to be chaste? The purity of womanhood exalted while the man is often held in contempt should he cleave to this same standard.

No one is a stronger adherent to the ideal of romance, to the art that flourishes around the sexual purity of the chaste girl and woman. After all, without this where would most of the great poets and writers find inspiration? Much of my book Birds With Broken Wings has to do with this kind of inspiration of romance. But this does not blind me to the pragmatic facts of the case that the working girl should not be an object of shame and derision because she believes she should have the human right to decide the issue for herself just as any man, that there should be no disparaging of the “fallen woman” while the man escapes any such designation.

However, the historical male dominance that makes whores of women while men have escaped any such pejorative appellation, at the same time denying the same right to women hiring themselves a man to satisfy their normal sexual desire, does make for the steamy novels, plays and films that take full advantage of this dichotomy in most cultures. And the refusal of men to accept women on the same basis they excuse themselves makes for an industry where women pander to the lust of men, making fools of men in the process. But men seem to excuse their foolishness in this regard while penalizing women and holding them in contempt. Consider the man playing the fool exclaiming “I never had to pay for it!” as though that was a proclamation of his “manhood.”

During the Civil Rights marches I watched some Negro men carrying placards declaring “I Am A Man!” But there were no Negro women marching with placards declaring “I Am A Woman!” Well of course not, those men were trying to call attention to the fact they should not be treated as lesser human beings on the basis of the accident of birth giving them the color of their skin. But it did occur to me that such placards just might be appropriate to all women within the same context having to do with equal value on the basis of gender.

Because sex is such a powerful thing, much of religion and politics can only be understood within this context. George Will: “Barney Frank, the 14-term Massachusetts congressman who chairs the Financial Services Committee, says it might be useful to ‘make it a misdemeanor to use metaphors in the discussion of public policy,’ such as ‘a rising tide lifts all boats.’ “

Frank shows his real intelligence in making such a statement. Now if a discussion of all the really important issues of life could be addressed in plain language, if politicians and pundits were forced to say what they mean in plain English without metaphor how much better off America would be. Suppose Caesar Bush were made to say in plain language what he means by “stay the course” for example. Well, in his case he would probably be, in fact, at a loss for words. He apparently doesn’t have much of a vocabulary. But you get my meaning.

How about discussing the issue of sex and prostitution in plain language without any metaphors? I’m willing to bet this article will prompt many to resort to metaphors rather than using plain language addressing the issue. Granted metaphors are safer than plain speech; but some issues are too important to be left to metaphorical language. And no matter what your opinion, sex is definitely too important a subject to be left to pornography and metaphors.

“Booze has its place, but its place is in hell!” Dear old Billy Sunday sure was instrumental in bringing about Prohibition, along with the side product, the unintended consequence of organized crime in America. At that, Prohibition did not make saints of sinners, and the booze continued to flow. And who is so naïve as to believe the wealthy and well-connected became teetotalers because of a silly law? It is silly, when not downright dangerous, to legislate human nature attempting to frustrate the normal desires of human beings. And too often “follow the money” is the only way to interpret such legislation.

Well, the suffragettes marched until women got the vote. Women marched for abortion until they won that battle. But where are the women marching for the rights of women to be prostitutes? Taken within the context of religion and politics, it is admittedly a tad touchy of a subject and I don’t expect many to be jumping on the bandwagon. Nevertheless, wherever men gather they talk about women, and wherever women gather they talk about men; and the topic is sex. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could talk about the subject of prostitution in a civilized manner devoid of all the religion and politics? “Deep down, wouldn’t you be for vice too … given the chance?”

It isn’t just the suffering of a child that causes us to cry out to God; it is the natural and normal anguished cry of most people brought to the extremes of life and death. But quite understandably most people do not want to come across to others as kooks. While there seems no end of attention getting devices and some seem to go to extraordinary lengths to embarrass themselves in the process, nevertheless most of us want to appear temperate and not given to extremes. And if you have spent much time in bars you quickly learn not to discuss politics, religion, or the Civil War.

And, among those considering themselves “literary,” you do not want to appear a kook or to be looking for a fight by picking on great writers; you simply do not cross swords with the literati that have pronounced ex cathedra from the Halls of Ivy their interpretations of the writers of the “holy books” of academia. Sinclair Lewis is a case in point; a Nobel winning writer and author with unimpeachable credentials, held in near veneration by many. But all this did not remove Lewis from a need to believe.

It was an amusing literary device by Sinclair Lewis, having Elmer Gantry champion the “old time religion.” And Burt Lancaster certainly played the role well in the film. But to have Elmer, a very large intimidating man with booming voice, ready fists and always looking for a scrap and confronting those that would disparage Jesus and the Bible, ready to knock their block off, this was where Lewis intended to get in his innings against the hypocrites he so very much despised.

Though Elmer was made the foil of Lewis, a fighting, drinking, cussing, womanizing preacher of the Gospel, the troubling thing in the novel was Lewis’ own struggle to find something to believe in, much as we find in all great writers like Hawthorne and others. There is just something about the whole subject of good vs. evil the great thinkers and writers seek to find answers to, and in the process often attempt to exorcise their own demons of unbelief. Moby Dick is a good example, an exercise in Melville’s futile often repetitious and obfuscatory attempt to put a face to the very evil he was trying to describe. But in the end the demon remained, and remained unnamed, undiscovered, unexposed, and un-exorcised. And in Hawthorne’s own view, Melville was struggling for something to believe in.

Oftentimes some of us find ourselves drawn to reading between the lines of a book like Elmer Gantry, and recall that father in the New Testament crying out to Jesus “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.” In the case of Lewis, he cannot seem to help making Elmer something less than the thoroughgoing scoundrel and hypocrite he intended as his foil to confront hypocrisy. There is too much good about Elmer despite his hypocrisy that just barely removes him from what Lewis evidently wanted him to be, though Lewis did point out Elmer would have made a good senator.

But Lewis also evidently wanted to believe there was something good, something worthy of believing about Jesus and the Bible, even about Elmer and Sharon while at the same time in his own struggle with intellectual schizophrenia attempting to confront the hypocrisy in religion. The result of this struggle is what I consider the weakest part of the novel when Lewis has one character confronting Elmer with the words “Mr. Gantry; why don’t you believe in God?” while it is quite evident Elmer does in fact believe in God by Lewis’s own description of Elmer. That Lewis attempts to make Elmer’s belief in God a twisted and distorted one; it just doesn’t quite come off as either atheism or agnosticism, but rather a kind of childish belief much in the manner of a deeply held superstition. But there are many superstitions associated with religion which do not necessarily disqualify an actual belief in God.

Lewis tries to make Frank Shallard a saint, and much like the Scopes’ Trial standing up for scientific integrity only to be nearly horsewhipped to death by rednecks that might not be “very good Christians” but by god they were going to defend the old time religion! But not even Frank escapes the struggle Lewis is having trying to find something good, something to believe in the very thing he is trying to attack. The result is that Frank comes off a relatively minor and hollow figure compared with Elmer. Frank is not quite human, but Elmer is very much so with all the weakness and failures common to most of us.

Even when Lewis has the wife of the minister silently questioning to herself the virgin birth, this does not come across realistically. And for a master like Lewis to fail in this as in other parts of the novel speaks volumes about the struggle Lewis was having himself in matters of belief.

But Mark Schorer, as with Lewis’ friend Mencken understood Lewis was fighting demons, among them the demon of alcoholism. And some weaknesses found in Elmer Gantry as with some of Lewis’ other works are to be understood in this context. What many commentators have failed to address adequately is the demon of unbelief with which Lewis was struggling, a demon that comes through clearly in this particular novel, one reminiscent not only of that father in the New Testament but the cry of Joshua to the people “choose you this day whom ye will serve; whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the flood, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land ye dwell: but as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD. And the people answered and said, God forbid that we should forsake the LORD, to serve other gods;”

It may be that there are simply good people and bad people; but there may be children of God and children of the Devil as the Scripture has it, not a difference in degree but a difference in kind. Whichever, good people struggle with a conscience, they struggle with their beliefs; and the best of these good people struggle to separate what they know from what they believe.

Good people will not only question the beliefs of others, they will question their own. Some are gifted, even tormented in pursuing their own doubts, struggling to find something in which to believe, something to which they can in good conscience own allegiance and like Luther say “Here I stand!” But for many good people it remains an ongoing struggle, and the great writers like Lewis give a voice to this struggle. That in many cases even good people can come off like Elmer is not surprising. What would be surprising is if those like Elmer Gantry should not find a place in either the churches or politics. The ultimate genius of Lewis was in finding a place for those like Elmer in both, and acknowledging this as a very real part of the human condition, not so much as to be condemned in many cases but to be understood as a part of dealing with reality.

It is when beliefs become dogma, and taught as such, forced upon others that we get to the crux of the matter separating people according to ideologies whether religious or political. Most of us like Lewis struggle with our beliefs and unbelief’s, trying to find something to hold on to in the midst of the oftentimes seeming lunacy of life, some anchor of the soul, something that will give us comfort and hope. To which I say, by all means believe what you will so long as you do not try to force your belief on me. Give a voice to both your beliefs and unbelief’s by all means, but be civilized about it and at least be honest enough to admit to their being only beliefs and unbelief’s.

Lewis was not sure whether Elmer was the character to be admired or despised. The result was a kind of dichotomy, very much like the condition most of us find ourselves facing. Sinner or Saint? To be one to the exclusion of the other simply isn’t human; and this was something Lewis both understood and attempted to portray in the novel. That it comes across confused in many places is no ill reflection on a master writer like Lewis, but quite the contrary.

Life is confusing at best, and even among the best of people, the best of writers attempting to bring order out of the confusion is the ongoing process of living. The best of writers recognize “the human heart in conflict with itself” is not only the thing that drives those like Faulkner, Steinbeck, Lewis and others, but is itself the reason the best of good people try so hard to separate what they believe from what they know. That this often results in confusion, the kind of confusion we find so well illustrated in Elmer Gantry, comes, as they say, “with the territory.” And we should be grateful to those like Lewis who are gifted in sharing their own confusion of exploration into the search for meaning, for something to believe in and trying to make sense of the resulting confusion.

Many of you know of the Doomsday Clock. It has just been moved to five minutes before midnight, the projected end of civilization due to nuclear arms threat and climate change. Long the stuff of science fiction, the present threats are real enough now to warrant the closest attention of world leaders. But when you consider it is world leaders that have led to these threats because of their lust for power and wealth there isn’t much room for optimism.

With the resident cat in my lap purring away while warming her paws and pelt, as I watched the quail and a particularly frisky large beautiful gray tree squirrel in my yard this morning, it was difficult for me to turn my attention away from this kind of serenity to the issues plaguing America and the rest of the world. However, I write by compulsion whether of the muses or other and seem to have no particular will of my own when I sit down to this keyboard each morning; and whether of angel or demon the things that have my attention demand being addressed.

Pragmatically, it seems actions by world leaders provoking the end of civilization is the work of lunatics, not rational human beings. But history is replete with mad leaders and this cannot be discounted, especially when mad tyrants and despots, including individual Muslim fanatics dedicated to the destruction of civilization for their “holy purpose,” have nuclear weapons at their disposal.

However, America would seem to be led of mad men and women, an instance being the refusal to secure our borders for the sole purpose of further enriching the wealthy. What is this but inviting nuclear terrorism upon America, an obvious act of lunacy encouraged by the lust for power and profits on the part of our leaders? And here are organizations like the ACLU and La Raza lending themselves to this madness. But even the most well-intended organizations too often find themselves doing the Devil’s work while believing they serve God, too often a small drop of poison turning the whole deadly because even the Devil may do good when it suits his ultimate purpose of the greater resulting evil.

Yes, I do believe there is such a thing as a “spirit of wickedness” pervading throughout history, that the earth is Satan’s domain. Though metaphysical in the extreme, it is one thing that makes sense of the otherwise lunatic actions of so many throughout the history of humankind and continuing even now in the face of that Doomsday Clock ticking away.

“If I can’t have you, no one else will!” Then the mad man murders the object of his grotesquely twisted desire. This from Scripture would seem to be the thinking of Satan leading the world in the path of destruction. But whether the result of consummate malevolent evil embodied in a creature like Satan or not, neither can this be discounted among those whose madness is the result of their greed and avarice, their lust for power and profits. No amount of science, no psychiatrists can explain the kind of madness that often results from the seed of power being planted in some people, nor the kind of evil that some do in efforts to gain power.

Good people do not want power and authority over others. But this is the Devil’s offer, and he has many willing takers. Consider the purpose of those wanting power and authority over others; it may insinuate itself with the most altruistic of motives, the person convincing themselves and others the only reason for seeking political office is to do good. But since it takes money to get elected and stay elected the Devil, by whatever definition, has the eventual say in the matter, the power of the purse to evil ends. And who looking at those in our government can with a good conscience say these are representatives of the good?

We read the story of Luther casting his inkwell at the Devil. Apocryphal or not I suppose if anyone qualified for the Devil’s personal attention it would be someone like Luther. And the many representations of angels and demons among all cultures from the most ancient of times lends credence to there having to be a legitimate and real source of such things beyond simply the imagination of ancient peoples. The making of various representations of the gods and goddesses, the idols of Scripture and other accounts must, I believe, have some substance in facts, ever as much as believing there must be some degree of facts supporting the various mythologies of the various cultures and civilizations of antiquity and even continuing to this present time.

The various beliefs of people of whatever cultures having to do with the supernatural are not always amenable to simple dismissal by those considering themselves too “scientific” in their thinking. Take the following from the New Testament which many Christians believe:

2 Thessolonians.2: [1] Now we beseech you, brethren, by the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, and by our gathering together unto him, [2] That ye be not soon shaken in mind, or be troubled, neither by spirit, nor by word, nor by letter as from us, as that the day of Christ is at hand. [3] Let no man deceive you by any means: for that day shall not come, except there come a falling away first, and that man of sin be revealed, the son of perdition; [4] Who opposeth and exalteth himself above all that is called God, or that is worshipped; so that he as God sitteth in the temple of God, shewing himself that he is God. [5] Remember ye not, that, when I was yet with you, I told you these things? [6] And now ye know what withholdeth that he might be revealed in his time. [7] For the mystery of iniquity doth already work: only he who now letteth will let, until he be taken out of the way. [8] And then shall that Wicked be revealed, whom the Lord shall consume with the spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of his coming: [9] Even him, whose coming is after the working of Satan with all power and signs and lying wonders, [10] And with all deceivableness of unrighteousness in them that perish; because they received not the love of the truth, that they might be saved. [11] And for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie: [12] That they all might be damned who believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness.

Whether you believe in the Rapture and the ultimate judgment of God visited upon the wicked or not, the fact remains that Doomsday Clock is ticking due to the seeming lunacy of world leaders, the kind of lunacy that might be explained by a creature like Satan and his servants. I am not burning candles or saying prayers, I do not take part in séances or have a Ouija Board or crystal ball, I do not hear things going bump in the night, and though I talk to God and departed loved ones and friends I hear no audible response, I see no apparitions. But neither do I discount out of hand the accounts of others including the accounts of the ancients that such things might well be real in some instances. There is simply too much unknown to science, to me, to not give some heed to such things. “That they all might be damned who believed not the truth, but had pleasure in unrighteousness” is something I want to believe. Somehow, someway there must be some means of ultimate justice prevailing, otherwise eat, drink, and be merry would be the most sensible thing for all of us.

Few would deny there is in fact a “mystery of iniquity,” a “something” driving world leaders on a path of destruction accounting for that Doomsday Clock existing. And I offer for your consideration a creature like Satan explaining what would otherwise be nothing but lunatics in charge throughout the world.

Certainly charlatans abound, those jumping on what I have long called the “prophecy bandwagon.” They appear silly in pulpits and on TV and we rightly dismiss these kinds of people, and most certainly Jesus cautioned against the pretenders “wearing soft clothing and living in kings’ palaces.” Nevertheless, even the most sober-minded cannot dismiss the threats abounding worldwide that appear to give legitimacy to those cautionary words in Thessalonians. And when I am forced to consider, as I am, whether humankind is set on a path to its own destruction of accident or design, as with the universe and life itself I choose to believe there is design to the whole. And I am not willing to dismiss the stories of antiquity, that there may be some basis in fact to the various myths and fables resulting from certain knowledge long lost to us “moderns.”

It has become a too familiar and ugly story. Two punks using a shotgun shoot and kill a man and woman here in Kern County because the couple “disrespected” the two punks. Given the environment where such barbaric murders occur, where punks like these are gang members and on this basis alone believe it should command respect from others reminds me of the evil Bob Ewell in To Kill A Mockingbird. He was an ignorant drunkard, a parasite living on the dole and using the money for booze instead of taking care of his children, but he had one thing going for him that he believed gave him the right to respect: He was a Caucasian! No matter what his shortcomings, no matter the dreadful living conditions and his sloth and ignorant, profane drunkenness, by god he was white! And by god he demanded respect for that!

Ewell was white trash, and he knew he was white trash. He could never hold his head up among decent Caucasian citizens like Atticus Finch. He could threaten and bully, but he knew he was white trash. Ah, but by god he was white! And because of this accident of birth he believed this made him superior to Negroes, and by god they at least had better show him his “due” deference and respect because by god he was white and they had damned well better show him deference and respect on this basis alone or else!

The civilized mind cringes and recoils at this kind of attitude of the evil Ewell; but it is the same attitude of those like the two punks that gunned down that couple, and wherever gangs of hoodlums, punks have no other claim to “respect” but on this basis alone they will use their guns to exact vengeance on those that do now bow and scrape to them.

It seems all my life I have been witness to the kind of bullying that demands deference on the basis of things like that of the ignorant Bob Ewell’s bigotry and the equally ignorant and bigoted punks with guns. I’ve experienced having my own life threatened by those like Ewell and the punks with guns whatever their ethnicity. There have been times when I have had to meet such threatening punks with my own gun in hand, so I understand full well the mentality of those like Ewell and the punks that have no other claim to “respect” than the color of their skin or their being able to gun down those that do not show them “respect.”

But gentle reader, so it has been throughout all of human history; and even now we live with bullies in the White House, Congress, and Supreme Court that cannot but remind me of Michael Corleone telling Kay she was being naïve not to realize politicians were no different than those like his father, that the “business” of politicians was akin to the “business” his father and he were in. As Hyman Roth was to tell Michael, “This is the business we chose, this is the business we are in.” And so it has been with politics throughout human history where politicians choose the “business” they are in.

There is no real difference between organized crime and a government given to organized tyranny and robbery through taxation without representation, stealing and extorting money from We the People, taking away people’s homes when they cannot pay taxes, condemning private property to give it to others for profit, encouraging the invasion of illegal aliens for slave labor, passing laws that punish the poor and further enrich the wealthy and so much more; the difference is only a matter of degree at best, but not a difference of kind as Michael Corleone realized and tried to point out to Kay.

Ah, but politicians demand “respect,” they demand what they believe to be their due deference by we the Great Unwashed or by god they will make us pay for this lack of respect! It is enough to make honest people vomit, this use of the term “honorable” used by politicians of each other! What is the basis of such “honor” but that of the same kind we see in the film among the Mafioso’s. And when one of these self-righteously proclaims dealing drugs must be kept away from the schools and kept among the “coloreds” because “they are only animals anyway” don’t you hear the echo of the same sentiment from those in our government refusing to secure our borders, that are dedicated to making criminals of all Americans, treating We the People as nothing but animals, the sheep to be sheared to benefit only the wealthy and those in power?

What I have personally witnessed and experienced of gangs from childhood on, my adult tenure in Watts, East San Jose and elsewhere is that a gang gives barbarians a sense of superiority through power, not on the basis of any self worth. To be able to disdain all laws of a civilized society, to bully the poor and defenseless by using guns against the innocent and those unable or unprepared to defend themselves is the ignoble “badge” of the bully. But what is this but a description of bullying politicians that use elected office as a license to steal from and plunder law abiding citizens? And We the People seem every bit as defenseless in the face of such bullies as we would be facing any gang members guns in hand.

As a lifelong supporter of our Second Amendment and the NRA I know from experience the importance of the armed, law abiding citizen. And not being naïve like Kay I know We the People have more to fear from the organized tyranny and robbery of those with the power to tax and destroy, the power to pass punitive legislation against ordinary American citizens than from organized crime. And while entire cities are being held prisoner to street gangs demanding “respect” our entire nation is being held prisoner to a government that is no less corrupt demanding “respect.”

Certainly those in government are educated, they wear the apparel of civilized persons and speak correct English, and unlike the ignorant, bigoted Ewell and his kin of whatever color know and observe the proprieties at dinner and cocktail parties. But these savages, as barbaric in their own way as any illiterate and ignorant gang member differ only in ignoring the laws with impunity, without any accountability by not taking a gun in their hands demanding our money and respect. They let others like lawyers and various police agencies do the dirty work for them.

Neither Los Angeles, Miami, nor Bakersfield can survive the tyranny of gangs taking over entire neighborhoods and cities. But a civilized America cannot long endure being bullied by tyrants of whatever stripe, whether the gangs in our cities or the gangs in our government. Nor can a world long endure such tyrannical bullies.

“They should have stopped Hitler at Munich.” That is the hindsight refrain. Certainly the world is held hostage to the “musket worshippers” whether those of Iran, North Korea or elsewhere. And it is going to take force to face down the bullies, the musket worshippers. But here in America we are going to have to do better than the present Caesar and his legions if there is to be any hope for a satisfactory solution, a leadership that puts the interests of America and Americans before their own or any others. And it is going to take a leadership that does not mimic The Godfather and his Mafia. Otherwise, we can expect an increase in the barbarians with guns in their hands demanding “respect” because like Michael Corleone they realize there is no difference between his father’s “business” and that of our government.

Just to consider the human and material costs of the present ongoing wars and be told there is no money for the problems here in America, the problems of infrastructure, health, securing our borders, jobs and housing is the voice of lunatics! But to allow greed and avarice to do their usual dirty work in our government is not only bad for “business,” but with America facing so many threats from so many quarters it is sheer lunacy threatening our very existence as a nation!

Late in his life grandad became a writer. He lacked formal education, having left off schooling after the third grade in order to help support the needs of family and couldn’t spell his way through a book of cigarette papers, but during the last few years of his life he bent his efforts to putting some of his thoughts of a long life into written expression. Using an old manual typewriter and the two-finger method, he laboriously wrote out letters to me that I still have and treasure. He also made a few audio tapes, and these are a treasury of him continuing to speak to me.

Most of us who write do so for the same reason as that of my grandfather, we not only want to give our thoughts expression we want to keep something of us alive that will continue after we depart this life. Much of such writing is to loved ones and friends, but some of this like that of the writing of books has much to do with both conveying a message and seeking a kind of immortality. I am presently in the process of publishing a nine volume set of my own writing; not with the thought of any financial gain but my own attempt at the kind of immortality such a legacy represents; the very same motive that drove grandad to get that old typewriter and start writing those letters.

We all want something of ourselves to remain when we die, and for those driven to written expression of their thoughts this is our personal working out of “Intimations of Immortality.” While these letters by grandad were an expression of his love and concern for me personally, there was also the desire they would provide me with the wisdom of his lifetime, an expression of his thoughts he wanted to be much more than just letters to his grandson, but also a kind of legacy that would keep him alive and be of value to me long after he passed away.

Much of hammered stone monuments is a seeking for immortality, stone being representative of such a thing to the ancients, to those like Michelangelo and others and continuing to this very day. The purpose of the pyramids and the Sphinx, ancient monoliths of various kinds continues to be debated, but the expression “chiseled in stone” still has relevance to persons wanting to preserve a kind of immortality ever as much as the ancient Egyptians and others. And for many a “headstone” is essential to their grave.

Beyond stone monuments for some a simple “Letter to the Editor” where we see our thoughts and name in print is of a kind with this longing for recognition, to say to others “Hey! Here I am! I’m alive and want you to know I’m alive, I am somebody!” all of this a kind of seeking for purpose beyond our mere mortal presence on earth, a kind of seeking for immortality, that after we die our words will somehow still remain “graved in stone” declaring “I still live!”

Whoever or whatever accounts for the universe and life on earth we are all born into metaphysical isolation, the kind of isolation that no amount of society can overcome. It may for a time be held in abeyance, but invariably we are left alone with our thoughts, those things that define what we are when no one else is around and not a one of us can see things through the eyes of another. And because of this metaphysical isolation the building of monuments, the arts or the writing that is done all such things the attempts to give expression to the longings and seeking for immortality, to say “I am alive, and I will continue to live after I depart this mortal body!”

However, not even the wealthiest can prevent the inevitable end, and though their artifacts like that of Citizen Kane may remain, who going through all the bric-a-brac of a lifetime will be able to appreciate the significance of some treasured “Rosebud” once held dear to the departed? And today we still wonder at the purpose of the pyramids and the Sphinx, the purpose of Stonehenge and so much more. But whatever the purpose of the ancients in their efforts, even in an age of so much scientific achievement there remains the need of the individual for expression that will remove somewhat the metaphysical isolation we all suffer and for long time written expression has served that purpose.

The tragic loss of that library in Alexandria; what books it might have contained that would explain the pyramids and the Sphinx, what stories of lost cities like Atlantis, of scientific achievements now lost to us. But notwithstanding this tragic loss, where now the hopes and dreams of ancient architects and builders, where is their purpose now to be proclaimed in the land of the living? All lost; but a book may have preserved these things; a book may have been the answer to their struggles for immortality.

Certainly the hopes of many have been tied to their offspring, that the family will continue and the family name not be lost, this a kind of immortality. But the well written expression of the soul, the finely crafted thoughts into words, this has become the most sought after immortality of the individual. And while such a seeking for this kind of immortality may be corrupted into a Mein Kampf, there are those books like Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird to balance it out, the kinds of books by which Thoreau believed humankind might scale heaven at last, his own idea of immortality even as he gave vent to this hope and longing by his own written expression.

Few would deny that writing is the highest achievement of humankind, that by this the knowledge of one generation could finally be passed on to succeeding generations thereby enabling our species to overcome the obstacles of previous ancient people, enabling the advance of civilization and the flowering of the arts and sciences. And despite all the efforts to elevate trash to the status of “literature,” great writing remains the signature and domain of the truly literate.

It is all too true that eloquence before an audience too often becomes mere rhetoric in the study. The written word will invariably betray pretenders. I have written about the importance of love letters for example, a seemingly lost art to this generation that is no longer taught how to write, a generation that has not been taught due reverence for our rich heritage of literature that once taught previous generations the great ideas of great writers, of how to express their own ideas in such a fashion as to communicate both comprehensibly and memorably to others.

But for some of us so well favored by those like my grandfather, we have a treasure in those written thoughts, no matter the lack of the mechanical skills of spelling and grammar, to convey the very immortality of loved ones and friends now departed. No amount of scientific achievement, no amount of computer skills or whatever will take the place of those words on paper or chiseled in stone by the ancients. And whether of accident or design written expression once made available this became the means of our species seeking and giving voice to our thoughts and longings for immortality.

In many cases a picture is worth a thousand words. But the ancients left many “pictures” about which we can only now guess. They left many monuments about which we can only now guess as to their purpose. But the written word still reigns supreme.

While I am as appreciative as any others of the great art by masters, I want to know the person responsible for such masterpieces. It isn’t enough for me to admire Rembrandt’s work; I want to know Rembrandt. I want to read his book; I want to know his own thoughts. The pretentious may tell me the master can be known by his work, but unless I can know the person through his letters, through his written expression I don’t really know him at all. Such has been, and still is the “power of the pen.” A commemorative statue, to have only heard about those like Socrates and Jesus is not enough; I want to know the men, and though transcribed by others, though an amanuensis is the intermediary it is through the written word they still live and have influence, that their own claims to immortality continue even as in my grandfather’s letters to me.

America is declining into a barbarism of the lack of education for many millions. While as a nation we lay claim to many marvels of scientific achievement, the lack of literary knowledge and the lack of writing skills declare the lowering level of our civilization. I treasure these letters by grandad, but he would be among the first to tell you how fervently he wished he could have mastered the skills by which his letters would have been much more than letters to his grandson, but would have been monuments to the hard earned wisdom of a long life, monuments to his own immortality.

A love letter, a personal note from a friend, these are treasures no matter what the lack of writing skills. But great books and great essays expressing the noblest thoughts of the noblest persons these are the monuments of civilization, the monuments to our immortality as a species far surpassing any monuments of stone or other. While reaching for the stars pictures, diagrams and the language of mathematics are essential; but to communicate what we are as a species, to communicate our very best and most honorable attributes it will be our books that will declare this and make us intelligible to others.

One thing I have come to depend upon is Turner Classic Movies, and I subscribe to the monthly guide rather than going online for the programming. I like to show my support this way and receive that booklet each month so I can hold it in my hands and go through all the tidbits of information like Robert Osborne’s column as well as anticipating what is going to be offered for the month.

While often taking Hollywood to task for its manifold failures, even disservice to America in too many instances I am ever mindful of the genuine contribution films have made in serving the public. The films of the early 30s offered relief from the desperation following the depression, they were of enormous benefit to us during WWII, and the great musicals were the finest work of America’s poets. But it defies imagination to consider the enormous debt we owe Shakespeare and all he meant to the stage as well as literature.

If the theater is in the blood of some this was certainly true of my grandparents and mother. My maternal grandparents performed in a traveling Vaudevillian circus, grandad did a brief stint in silent film, and mom broke her leg, literally, falling off a stage while dancing in a chorus line. When it came to theatrical it occurred to me years ago that my grandparents’ small church in Little Oklahoma allowed them an outlet for this need to continue performing for an audience; and while there was never any doubt my grandparents loved the Lord and were serving him the best way they knew how neither was there ever any doubt that the pulpit allowed grandad especially to find expression for his many gifts as a story-teller and performer.

No doubt it was in my genes to follow in the family tradition, not just in playing music and singing for audiences, but in the years I spent as a classroom teacher. The most successful teachers have the gift of being able to perform as you would expect on any stage.

Beyond the proper emphasis of preaching the Gospel, our small church was the means of satisfying the social needs as well of our small community of Dust Bowl folks. The spirited singing of those great old Pentecostal hymns to the accompaniment of my grandmother’s piano, the dynamic preaching of grandad, testimony time, prayer requests, the altar call at the end of the service, all these things were in a very real sense “theater.”

But throughout the Bible, both Old and New Testaments you will find just such theater, you will find the gifted performers like the prophets and evangelists holding forth before their audiences. Jesus captivated audiences by his gift of story-telling, and like the best of teachers he could hold the attention of his “pupils” while teaching the lesson.

The great prophets and preachers have been consummate actors, not in the pejorative sense of “hypocrite,” but in the best sense of the earliest poets, much like the holy men of my Cherokee ancestors who knew how to tell a story so the lesson would not be forgotten. Such was the work of the earliest poets, our earliest “historians.”

With the age of film story-telling took on a more memorable form, now the actors could reach audiences in numbers not possible in earlier times, and in a media format that had the advantage of moving pictures emphasizing the gifts and skills of the performers, the story-tellers of modern times, in many cases making books come alive in a way not possible with only the written words.

However, the Great White Way of Damon Runyon and others has not been threatened, and Broadway continues to beckon and pronounce between what is good theater and what is not, who is a gifted performer and who is not. As to the churches, what would they be without performers, those preachers able to captivate their audiences, their congregations? What are the great cathedrals with all their artistic appointments but invitations to the imagination conveying the aura of great theater? “The Godfather” holds a rightfully high place in the best of films made, but the hypocrisy notwithstanding what would it be without the theater of the Roman Church to give its imprimatur of authenticity and emphasis to the film?

Even in Protestantism there are found in some all the appointments of a Broadway play, of theater complete with actors in flowing robes and others costumed accordingly. But few are the Richard Burtons filling pulpits; and in too many cases all the trappings of the theater are there without the soul. Too often do those seen on TV especially seem more dedicated to the theatrical than the message, and lacking gifted actors with a soul for the story in too many cases such come off as poor theater as a consequence.

As I have pointed out in some other of my writing the real soul of America is to be found in its rural churches scattered throughout our nation, in those small congregations of simple folks of simple beliefs led of faithful shepherds not seeking the limelight. But even among the most humble of shepherds the requirement of “theater” remains a prerequisite of their holy office even as it was of my grandfather. And as some of you know, the best of performers easily overcome the deficiencies of lacking the “sets” of Broadway or Hollywood productions. Our small church in Little Oklahoma lacked many of the things like “proper” pews for the congregation. In the beginning the structure had a dirt floor and was wrapped in tarpaper, but with grandad’s preaching and my grandmother’s piano playing we had all that was required of good theater, theater with a soul.

But as with all theater, as with all story-telling worthy of being called such the storyline is that of good vs. evil. Now, if you are given a choice of watching The Godfather and Silence of the Lambs, or Gigi and My Fair Lady which would you choose? Well, it depends, doesn’t it. To be sure, there is this thing of what you are in the mood for, but there is no denying people find an attraction to evil, and we will always slow down to see a wreck on the highway.

However, given so much violence filling the world, with so many dangers threatening our nation and the rest of the world, don’t you kind of wish we could simply leave off all the dark messages, real as they are, and choose those things that lift our spirits and give us hope. This is where the best of theater found in the rural churches of America comes into its own.

This is not an attempt to minimize the importance of the great cathedrals where the best of the arts at one time flourished and gave such impetus to Western Civilization, to the inspiring influence of these grand palaces, these grand theaters. But even though I have experienced some of the great cathedrals of both Romanism and Protestantism, and some of the mega-churches, though some of you probably attend such places of worship there remains with me the memories of those small “theaters” like that of my grandparents. Here was community in the best sense of the word, here was theater in the best sense of the word. And it is something so far off Broadway it gets little in the way of reviews. But I feel compelled to continue giving it the reviews it both needs and deserves, though it hardly needs saying that it takes good people to make good churches, to make them good theater, the kind where all are included in fulfilling Shakespeare’s “The play’s the thing” where it is the sincerity of the players that catch the attention of the King, and that kind of sincerity cannot be “acted.”

The head of one of Hollywood’s largest theatrical agencies is reported to have told someone once he needed have a person only say the lines “I believe in God” and “I love you” to determine if they had real talent. It continues to perplex me so many seem to believe God is any easier taken in by those without talent than this man, that so many seem to believe anything less than a sincere heart can make the play the real thing.

Seeing the Bakersfield Californian is asking for some stories from us local folks here is one I am going to borrow from my novel “Donnie and Jean, an angel’s story” written about two children growing up in Bakersfield during the WWII era.

When I was a boy, there was no TV with so-called “children’s programming” where so much of sex and violence is drummed into the minds of children on a daily basis. Children didn’t live under the threat of a nuclear holocaust, we trusted our leaders and children had heroes back then to depend upon to save the day, those like the Lone Ranger, the Phantom, Superman, and we had our churches where faith in God and America were a part of childhood instruction and growing up. In those days gone by many were the simple pleasures of childhood, things like shooting marbles, building balsa and tissue model airplanes, exchanging comic books with friends, boys played shoot ‘em up games with cap guns and girls played with dolls. It was a simple order of things, the way things were supposed to be.

But in the process of childhood, the distinguishing physical characteristics defining the roles of girls and boys is also the way things are supposed to be just as Sam Clemens and Harper Lee so well described them. And no matter the era or the passing of time girls and boys eventually have to confront the things that make them what they are in respect to the opposite sex.

This most fascinating of subjects reminds me of a neighbor girl, Becky Williams. I remember meeting her when I was only about seven and she must have been about the same age. What happened with Becky came about because of comic books. While I enjoyed comic books, I loved reading the National Geographic. Our grandparents had a wonderful collection of them, many quite old. They had beautifully engraved covers, always with a striking picture on the front. They were in neat rows in display bookcases, their bright and colorful yellow spines showing proudly. The cases were those beautiful ones that had glass doors you lifted up and slid back into the case to get to the books.

I would lie on the floor of the parlor and pour over the articles, the pictures, and even some of the advertisements. The Parker Fountain Pen and Packard ads with gold highlights were especially attractive, reflecting in the soft glow of coal oil lamps or dim electric lights. And grandma was always there in her rocking chair with a book to keep me company.

There were wonderful worlds of adventure in the Geographic’s and I never tired of traveling to them in imagination. And there were fascinating things in science and astronomy to further fire my imagination and curiosity about so many things. Strange animals, reptiles, fish, and insects of all manners were pictured and described, and fascinating black men and women in Africa that wore hardly any clothes and lived where the adventures of Tarzan, and Sheena, Queen of the Jungle took place. I would become absorbed in the stories of safaris going into unexplored jungles; discovering wonders of that Dark Continent and I wished I could go with these intrepid and brave adventurers.

And there was the magnificent set of the World Encyclopedia to which I had constant resource. I never tired of reading in this set of large, handsomely bound books; so much to answer questions and excite my curiosity and imagination. My readings in science were greatly enhanced by having a microscope, magnifying glass, and chemistry set. These were birthday and Christmas presents and I made full use of them. I spent hours collecting various specimens, insects and vegetation, preparing slides and peering through magnifying glass or microscope at the wonders of God’s intricate creation.

There was an abundance of insects around our place. The iridescent bottle flies with their beautiful colors of green, yellow, and red, the black and white striped beetles and horseflies; spiders of all kinds were fascinating. The small, armored, gray rolypolies (some people called them sow bugs. But I liked that name rolypoly) were abundant as well. Ronnie and I enjoyed the way the little creatures would roll themselves into a tight, protected ball like miniature armadillos when touched. Then a slight flick of the finger would send them scooting like a tiny, gray marble.

And there was a natural fascination as well with black widows identified by their shining black and bulbous bodies and their iridescent red hourglass designed to strike terror in both children and adults. We were warned repeatedly of these and the violin, or brown recluse, spider. Before grandad installed indoor plumbing, Ronnie and I learned early on to lift the hinged seat of the privy and take a stick to discomfit and clear any resident arachnids and cobwebs, and then slam it down as an extra measure of precaution. And there was the bag of powdered lye inside as well. When you did your business, you had to throw in a scoop of this to discourage flies, keep down the maggot population and disinfect.

If anything could explode, had a venomous bite or was dangerous in any way, it had an automatic attraction and fascination to young minds. I inadvertently discovered that if you had a sheet of single shot caps in the back pocket of your overalls and slid on the floor, the caps would ignite from friction. Lost a good pair of overalls that way.

A small, fresh leaf would disclose movement of liquid through its veins under my microscope. Plants were, indeed, living things. Since we had an abundance of birds and fowl, feathers of all kinds went under the microscope as well. I imagined myself exploring jungles and collecting wonderful and exotic creatures, insects and plants, just like those men and women in the Geographic articles.

When the war was on, I would dream of discovering miraculous properties of materials with my chemistry set, things that I just knew would help win the war. Explosives held a particular fascination for me. I had very quickly progressed beyond juvenile things like fingerprint powder, invisible ink, and material that would slowly burn when applied to toilet paper and ignited. Or in a flash like gunpowder; like cologne, or cigarette lighter fluid.

Of course, some of this knowledge and experimentation had to be gained and done rather surreptitiously. I was usually aware of what would have been approved or not if I asked questions or for help about certain things. So I usually tried to avoid incriminating questions or asking for help that was bound to provoke a negative response by the surrounding adults. And such questions I already knew the answer to I didn’t have to ask.

But back to Becky.

One evening while I was lying on the floor in the parlor reading there was a knock at the door, and when I went to see who it was it was Becky. I had loaned her a couple of my comic books earlier that day. She handed me the comics and said, “Thank you, Donnie.” Then she had kissed me quickly on the cheek and ran off into the night.

I stood there dumbfounded, not knowing what to make of such bizarre behavior! But I tried to avoid Becky from then on. Girls. Huh. Strange creatures. It didn’t occur to me to resort to my microscope and chemistry set to find an answer to such incomprehensible workings of the female mind.

It took some time before that world of intrigue distinguishing between girls and boys began to make its demands on my attention. There were still things before me like playing Post Office and Spin the bottle, and like Tom Sawyer to begin the time honored ritual of trying to impress girls. But you know folks, way back then there was the mystery and intrigue of romance to the process, something in far too many cases being denied to girls and boys today.