OLDEST HORSE

It's name was devised in the 1880's when the oldest horse species in the world , and the last truly wild horse, was “discovered” by a Russian explorer named Nicholas Przewalski.

Przewalski's Horse is thought to be descended from ancestors which lived in pre-historic times. It is one of several species which survived the glacial era as is said to be our last link with ancient, primitive horse breeds. It inhabited largely the whole of the Eurasian plains originally, but, as the grazing lands dwindled in size because of climate changes, the wild herds were diminished in size and in numbers and lingered, primarily along what would be today's Mongolia-China borders.

Wild herds of Przewalski's horse were last reported in 1968, but those who have admired the sturdy, small breed insist that it has withstood climate conditions far worse for generations and may well do so once more. There are about three hundred of the horse in zoos and natural habitat areas around the world. Just because the wry and wily steed has not been seen recently does not mean it has become extinct.

Herds are traditionally small. There will be several mares and young horses led by stallion. Mares come into heat are seasonal intervals and usually mate in the month of May so that foals will be born in that month of the following year. It is held by many that Przewalski mares give birth at night only, so the new foal can be up and ready - after a fashion - for the trail the next morning. The mare commonly takes the tail of the foal between her teeth and nudges the newborn along with her nose. They suckle their young for several months or until teeth are developed enough to permit grazing. Young females may stay with the tribal unit or join others. The lead stallion drives all male contenders away after one year, by which time they are old enough, strong enough and smart enough to gather their own harem of mares.

Herds commonly feed at dusk. in wooded areas. At daybreak, they return to their desert habitat to rest until sunset. The tend to favor specific areas and wear deep paths by continued use of the same routes. Such habits explain, to some extent, why the small groups may not be readily spotted by man.

This horse has another protecive advantages. It is usually a dull yellow-bwownin color fading to a ligher tinge under the belly.The long tail is black and has a short bristle base to it as does the black mane.The entire coat grows wooly and shaggy during the winter months. The mountains where the herds were first seen by man have been called "The Altai" for geneations - "the mountains of the yellow horses." The odd trait about the breed is, however, to be found in its hoof formation.. It leaves a print unlike any common breed. This gives it another, unpronounceble name in the fact that it belongs to the Order Perissodactyla which includes all mammels having an odd number of toes. The Prsewalski leaves what appears to be a single "fingertip" with the last bone widened and rounded off as a hoof. The adaptation has enabled the breed to run swiftly to evade attack.

A.L.M. December 28. 2002 [c555wds]

 
AT WHAT POINT?

We need to be concerned about exactly where, when, why and how pacifism becomes appeasement.

There is, to me, a very fine line across which one might easily pass without being aware of the fact that he or she has, in the very act of doing so, may have infringed upon the rights of others who do not think in essentially the same pattern and arrive at essentially the same conclusion.

To assume that yours is the only valid solution to the problem facing all of concerned is naive, immature and even foolish. Such a lone stance invites critical analysis, which your argument may or may not withstand in its formative state. If your plan has merit such attributes will be shown to best advantage when contrasting claims are made by others. To toss one's better trump card holdings upon the playing table area too early can be costly.

I quite often have the feeling that much political and social protest is mis-handled in this same profligate manner.

To often, far too often, elements of disagreement are given a shiny, but has hastily concocted coat of colorful holy glory and set forth for the ignorant beings who have not handled it, to be accepted without question as being Holy Writ or a sort. Nothing turns me “off” more quickly than a would this Holy Joe attitude.

Don't think, for one, fleeting and overly-pious moment, that you are the first or only person to ever really think about “Peace”, for instance, being better than - “War.” Given the words with which to do so, the small child on the side of the war torn roadway could tell you more about that thought, a thousand times over, than you can every concoct with all your special advantages. To march forth into public places with others thinking pretty much the same as you do, or even less in your modest opinion, is not so much a symbol of “valor” as it is of “vanity”.

How can we forget the pathetic figure of Neville Chamberlain deplaning in England after conferring with Adolph Hitler and knowing, at the time, he had given the dictator what he wanted in central Europe. He waved a piece of paper and said words about ”peace in our time.” He may well have been thinking of the legacy he would leave the world, perhaps, and it is quite different from what he had hoped it might be. He was thinking of the well-being of the very same people, Winston Churchill would lead into - and through - the war years. As so often happens in history, leaders sometimes see the term ”appeasement” as being the same as a “solution” but the chief synonym proves to be something akin to “temporary treatment.”

For the common good of the nation, we, as individuals sure we know what is in our own hearts. If you allow others to decide that important element is going to be , you are surrendering one of man's greatest treasures.

It is called self-respect, and you earn it. You do so by accepting responsible actions in times of crisis, rather than seeking paths which you may think will make it possible for you to avoid them.


A.L.M. December 27, 2002 [c-549wds]

 
BEAT ME SOME OF THOSE

Plough shares ...pruning hooks!

It's about time to get busy beating them all back into the shape of swords. Indications are that conditions are such as to require the defense of our holdings.

I think we, for the most part, realize that the intent and value of such actions at this moment, have little, or nothing to do with what is ”right” or “wrong” concerning the reasons why we find ourselves at this particular moment. Much of history works backwards and it is the followers and leaders of a decade after an era who, can look back and determine what the “cause” of it all might have been which made things happen as they did. It is unlikely that we see it all sufficiently clear even as it begins to take place to make judgments as to which way it should go.

Let's not just stand here doing nothing but quibble over who's “fault” it might be that we are in the situation which faces us.
It is not a simple problem. It is more complex than we, as yet, admit, even to ourselves. We are currently at war. We may or may not choose to call it that, but we are aligned in opposition to existing forces which are fearfully real and numerous at various locations around the world. And, our friends are few ...let's face that harsh truth and do the best we can to make up for such a loss, possibly to regain some of that trust and consideration we once seem to have earned and merited.

After many years of downgrading our military might, we have, at last, started to regain some stability. It has been politically opposed all the way. It cannot be said that it has, in any way, been done without purpose, intent and the realization, however small, that we will again be called upon to defend the basic principles of democracy where it exists around the world.

It is not of our own choosing, but our defense it had better be and in sufficient strength to better the very best of those who call themselves our enemies. They have set the terms often primitive and harsh; they have dropped the gauntlet, blood-stained and ill-fitted, and it is time to be make ready to man the barricades.

Like it or not, and most of us do not seek it or even condone it, the time has come for our nation to step forward in force to defend what we, and some others, believe has proved itself the better way for Mankind.

The price will be high. We know that, and it should be a all the more reason for us to get busy re-tooling our normal way of living to wartime realities. We must do it now... or, there may be no “later on”

Now!

What a curious way with which to begin our New Year of 2003!

Is there, I wonder, any possible way we can raise the globe of light in Times Square, New York, this year for all the world to see? The world, and we at home, need to see the Light of Truth being raised and held high rather than being allowed to fall!

A.L.M. December 28, 2002 [c548wds]

 
GOOD MANAGERS, SCARCE

Capable, qualified and confident mangers are hard to find these days.

At first, I thought, I was considering C-E-O types. But, I quickly found the real need to be in lesser management levels. Is that, perhaps, what the term “middle management” actually means when translated into work-day-routines. Lesser wheels are quite important, too..

I have known some good business managers in my time, and I have had my share, and more, of men and women who – while they held important places - were not capable of fullfilling even minimal duties of that office.

There are various ways in which a worker becomes a manager. There was a time, not too long ago, when all Junior had to do to become manager of Daddy's domain in business, industry or commerce was to be there. The success of such family ventures usually depended upon the presence of a third party, an often unseen presence; sometimes, unrewarded too... a silent third party who had the welfare of the company close to heart; someone who tended to all the essential affairs of the firm on Junior's behalf.

The executive breed usually made quite show of putting in sufficient time to gain printed proof of a business eduction from one of the nation's finest schools.. Such a diploma, suitably framed and displayed on his office wall, was throught to qualifiy any recipients for whatever management levels they chose to occupy. The system worked well as long as they could keep support personnel in place to really run the business.

In addition to such inherited leadership, there was, for a long time an honorary type of executive opportunity. All one had to do to qualify was to to amount to something in a totally different field – fly an ocean, win a sports event, swim the impossible stream, climb the highest mountain – and, as a sort of reward and specail recognition for having done so, one was granted the place of being an executive with an industrial firm in a totally unrelated field. The "name" assoiated with "fame" was supposed to engender new fields of business.

I actually worked in such a comic-opera settings for several years and I remember well some of the strange pitfalls it held.

Fortunately, such episodes lasted ,as a general, for just three years.

That, in my experience, was the average career life of most managers in larger firms. It took one full year to settle into the new job and to learn who willing, did what, when and why. It took a second year for him or her to realize that it was not going to work - none of the things planned were to get done. Then, it took a third year, or most of it, to find a new job somewhere – anywhere – which could serve as “an advancement” or, be cited in PR releases as being a “challenging change of pace."

This was just one of the in-depth causes of the virtual demise of American industry. We have been too long under temporary or transient management.

A.L.M. December 27, 2002 [c522wds]

 


UNITY, THE LACK OF...

We often show up short on unity.

Much talk and tons of print materials are available lauding the historical unities we do have as a nation. We think of ourselves as being the “United States of America” ...fifty states banded together as one nation, but the concept of individuality allowed each of those member states varies a great deal among the people who live in any any particular one of them.

There are still sectional differences which divide us in critical ways. They have always been here and we even went to the extreme of fighting a costly war attempting to solve some of those divisive elements.

And – we keep devising new ones as well

We instigated the current United Nations concept even though we did not exactly approve or join it's previous form - the League of Nations following World War I. We sponsored the development of each system – nurtured them in their formative years, – and found each ,in time, to be less than adequate as a means of establishing and maintaining a semblance of unity and peaceful living to which all men are said to aspire, even among the member nations.

Other factors mitigate against the formation of unifying associations, too.

Travel, as an example, has made it common for social groups of different types to intermingle and contend with each other all around the world, each, more often than not, favoring and working for their own advancement rather than anything of mutual value

` Communication, primarily of an intense computer-technical development, has brought many areas together while enabling each to be more independent of the other.

Even in our play and development of teams for sports undertakings we try to make sure ours is best. The competitive sense urges us to make comparisons and to correct any shortcoming to appear superior, for at time, at least. So much of the world, it seems, looks at Americans as rather willful individuals...even loners, at times, intent on going our particular way, but the phase we are in at this moment in these end days of the year 2002 , may prove something which has been established before. Study history and you will find that this seeming lack of unity is an illusion which is quickly overcome when the people realize they are faced with danger!

It has happened before. When we are convinced danger is upon us, we join together to eliminate the cause of that threat to our well-being.

A.L.M. December 25, 2002 [c426wds]

 
DID YOU HEAR WHAT I HEARD?

Christmas music fades away quickly each year and it is not uncommon for us to find that we actually listened to very little of it during the rush of holiday events.

Officially, I suppose, Christmas music starts at about the same time the Thanksgiving Day turkey is being consumed. That's when radio promises Christmas music but much depends on economic factors as to how much time remains for Yuletide music.

Then, when it is available, we tend to slight ourselves by overlooking the vast treasury of good music which has come to us based on the finest qualities of the faith we profess.

The holiday theme fades with the old year and we are off on a path which offers us an amazing selection of many types of music from which we must choose our favorites.

The is much more to each of the varied types of music and we might, at first, be unaware of the values they hold for us. I have noticed a puzzled look of concern for my mental well-being. coupled with a shade of doubt and even anger, when I speak out in favor of a certain type of music, which has good reason for being what it is even though we do not select it as our favorite.

I cringe inwardly at times, listening to some music of our day, and yet I know that steady pulse of noise has meaning. I will concede that is no small or easy thing to do, this choosing from varied styles, because it is through our musical likes and dislikes - expressed so openly at times – that we, probably, show our worst thoughts of hatred, distrust, disrespect for the rights of others... so many negatives values, both in words spoken and printed. Too often the musical choices of others are purposely made to seem crude, jaundiced, reckless, worthless and a thing of revulsion, ridicule and rottenness.

Think back over the Christmas season just ending. To what specific styles of seasonal music did you hear?

It seems proper that we heard many traditional Christmas carols being sung. But, to some people, hymns are boring and do not convey the personal sentiment of their religious faith. Those people prefer listening to humorous parodies of older songs, or songs associated in some way,events of the holiday time or characters of the time. So many people are much more interested in “seeing Mama kissing Santa Claus:, “wanting two front teeth for Christmas”,or, among this year's sillier songs, the one about Grandmother being “run over by reindeer!”

To some, that is Christmas music is at its most enjoyable level. Others profess to want it a bit more formal: “Twelve Days of Christmas”, and that sort of Olde English treatment, and each year they do an annual recount as to the exact number of animals referred to in that song.*

There is also a group of higher-toned folks who think portions of Handel's “The Messiah”, and other works of that caliber, are proper. Fine! Go to it! But don't forbid albums of simple songs by Bing Crosby, Andy Williams, Perry Como, Tony Bennett and others – all, you see, from my generation. I, personally, would like to include and an album of holiday sounds by “Mannheim Steamroller”,as well as Carson LaRue singing her a capella favorites.

If music is “melody” to you, the choices you make will be lyrical in nature and have direct meaning. If music seems better with bit of bounce to it you may prefer instrumental records. And instrumenation will vary, as well,.from pipe organ to harmonic.ou my want an album by the Statler Brothers or group cconsist of a fidde.,guitar, madolin,ducemer playing ancinet lilts for The Old Sod
.
PIck and choose your musical favorites with absolute freedom to allow for change, too. Being loyal is one thing; being so narrow as to exclude other music of value is wasteful and wrong. Don't feel out of place or false to your assumed heritage, either.

Listen and learn at the level best suited to your current need. Play, sing or simply attend to music in praise and in gratitude.


A..L.M. December 23, 2002 [c 705wds] *31, I'm told

 
December 25, 2002


A B C D E F G




H I J K Andy Mc Caskey M


N O P Q R S T


U V W X Y Z

 
AMERICA’S FIRST CHRISTMAS CARD

The initial lines of the inscription read:

”A happy season is Christmas, a time of joy and goodwill to all people.”

It was December 22, 1982 when a small group of people in Wyoming Country, West Virginia watched the dawn's first rays of sunlight wash slowly across a black panel of rock on the face of a cliff to reveal the text of the first line inscribed there in the ancient Celtic language called Ogam.

They listened to a spoken translation of the aged text to be seen in those strange markings on stone. It is one of the strange petroglyphs to be viewed in sections of West Virginia along the Kentucky border.

Then, as the morning light crept cross the slab of rock the voice continued with the second line:

” A virgin was with child. God ordained her to conceive and be fruitful. Behold, a miracle!”

There was yet a third line to be read:

”She gave birth to a son in a cave. The name of the cave was the Cave of Bethlehem. His step-father gave him the name of Jesus, the Christ, Alpha and Omega. Festive season of prayer.”

Other translations of the text vary, of course, and are not so formal as this one by the authority on the subject, one Barry Fell who has written widely of the amazing discoveries. He and others who have studied these inscriptions, are confident they were the handiwork of visitors to the area from Ireland in the time of St. Brenan in the 6th or 7th Century A.D. Other studies point more definitely to an unknown Gnostic monk traveling with the Brenan party, who would have been aware of both use of the Irish “Iron” language and of the Christian traditions.

There are several other small examples of this type of work and the largest known Ogam inscription in the world - which we have talked about in these pages before - is to be found in nearby Logan County, West Virginia. It is called the”Horse Creek Petroglyph” and the story old on it details a large-scale buffalo hunt b primitive people. It is difficult to ascertain how many of these ancient markers might have been destroyed by strip mining operations in the area but there have been some such losses. A few have been moved to safer locations when discovered.

In addition to these strange Ogam language markers, and archaeologist name Robert Pyle, discovered in 1989, about thirty feet from a petroglyph called “Cook”, a burial place which has been proved to have been the final resting lace for some European. Both carbon-fourteen and DNA testings place the burial at around 700 A.D.

West Virginia - ”wild and wonderful”....in so many exciting ways!

A.L.M. December 22, 2002 [c454wds]

 
HOLIDAY HAPPENING

When one of the nation's largest firms cannot credit monthly payments for gasoline to the proper account, it should indicate that something is amiss within that organization.

And, when that firm, on the Sunday morning before Christmas , calls, not once, but twice by different annoymous persons – to harangue the client with threats of reporting “non-payment” to credit firms, it should suggest that changes are now past due in their methods of operation. Both call resulted from earlier calls the previous week alleging non-payment. A prompt visit to the local bank showed clearly that the questioned payment had been made and falsely credited to an account in Shawnee, Oklahoma instead of to ours in Virginia. Our local bank made copies of the check and of the billing and faxed them to the gasoline firm. Neither of our “Happy Holidays” callers Sunday had any information concerning any such clarification of the problem.

No wonder there is so much interest in the possible passage of legislation designed to curb the excesses of the Telemarketing field in general. The major gasoline companies, banks, and, oddly enough the multitudes of telephone firms appear to be the most bothersome users of such methods. The new legislation may not concern the phone companies,I understand because they operation under different set of rules than others. It will be unfair if such new legislation curbs the industry to the point of killing it.

Firms such as the automotive fuel collossus to whom I have been alluding, spend millions of dollars annually intended to better the public perception of the manner in which they claim to be doing business. Much of that public relations money is wasted, when they are rotting within.

Ours, I find, is not an isolated case. Check around, and you will find that scores of people you know have such “horror “ stories of their own to tell. It is not an uncommon experience.

I do not approve of the firm's repeated infringement on our family's Sabbath Day and, especially on a Sunday just prior to Chrismas Day. It was certainly not in keeping with the special meanings of the time to have grand choldren wondering why Grand Mother was near to tears talking with someone on the phone; why Grandpa was suddenly so grouchy, and why their own parents seemed so concerned by the calls.

Christmas stopped.

It seems to me the firm could have controlled the Scrooge-like impulses they seem to have for a few days, until, at least, they had the opportunity to look at the situation as it existed rather than some uninformed underlings imagined it to be.

The die has been cast.

Pay up. Get out.

And, never buy from that firm again.

A.L.M. December 22, 2002 [c464wds]

 
FROM THE TOP!

When a orchestra conductor lifts his baton high; holds it motionless in the air, having tapped lightly on the edge of the stand in front of him, he is not required to tell his musicians that they are to start at the beginning. They do not have to be told. They know his intention and they are a part of it.

It becomes their reponsibility to perform to the utmost perfection of their capabilities.

If, however, they have been through the composition before and are to concentrate,now, on a specific portion of the orchestration, the conductor will specify when and where they are to begin to play.

Maestro George W. Bush, conducting the group of which we are members, has tapped the stand, he has indicated we are to undertake the reading of a complicated score with many subtle shades of meaning and intent. He has been listening to our individual attempts to gain control of the notes, and he has now alerted us to the fact that the performance is almost ready to start. He will indicate when we are to play.

Usually, the downbeat follows quickly. Almost, at once, you might say, but this has not been the case at our recent rehearsals. He has our attention. We have been alerted, but there is a tense delay. Why? Is something amiss?

It is not that the maestro is not acquainted with the score.
He has confidence in the quality and exactness of every stave before him. He has delayed the start, not because he doubts our readiness or capabilities. He has delayed the introduction because the audience is not yet prepared...those who are to be attentive, listen and participate in that which lies head of us all. They are not ready to share the projected composition. He deems it wise to wait.

Conducting a nation at war is a work of art demanding special skills. If the presentation is to succeed, much depends on the ability of those who hear it to comprehend ulterior meanings and to refrain from spoiling the essential unity of it all.

George W. Bush, is, even now, ready – even eager to go ahead. The international community for whom all of this war is to be undertaken, is not in full agreement as to where they are going to be seated. or if they are to be present at all!

He feels his musicians are prepared. He knows they are trained, capable and eager. He knows the limitations and advantage of the arena itself and he appreciates the value of proper timing.

Many factors go into the making of such a moment. One must be absolutely sure of intent and work with that objective in mind. Our maestro, is taking a seond look at the entire composition and gauging the capacity of the onlookers and listeners to appreciate what he is trying to accomplish.

At the moment, there is hesitation and uncertainty in various sections. He must wait until they are prepared, or until it become apparent some are not going to do so at all. This is a tense time. The entire world is awating the downward sweep of his arms.

A.L.M. December 21, 2002 [c540wds]

 

IS IT TRUE?

“Facts” can be confusing with today's curious modes of validation.

Here's an example.

I keep hearing we now have a total of nine-million “illegals” among us. It is often more specific – using the term “ illegal citizens”. And, once that “fact “is established, all manner of problem solving becomes possible, simply by blaming those excess people for whatever the to trouble seems to be. It becomes a panacea which cures all ills.

But, is the “fact” a statement which can be accepted as being true?

Such statements are far too serious to be accepted simply because “they say”, “officials state”,“figures show” or something which sounds more official, such as “ government documents indicate that" we now have nine million illegals in our midst.” If it is true, then it deserves prompt attention. But, until it is shown to be accurate one must move with caution. Innocent people might be harmed.

They are used, too often, primarily to shock people, and they do just that especially when they appear as the head lines above stories which deal with immigration to this country from nations all over the world. They create additional divisions and needless conflict.

I find I am wary of accepting such figures as being entirely true. Nine million? That's a goodly group of people and the compilation of figures concerning that many individuals has to be a blend of fact and fiction, census studies and guess work, "about" -counting and the making of estimates.

Certainly,September 11th of last year taught us that we must pay more attention to whom we authorize entry. We have been excessively liberal in such matters is the past. Even a cursory glance at the terrorism patterns shows how dismal our guard has been.

One would hope that the new department of homeland security, which can not, as yet, be deliberately written using capital letters because it doesn't really exist. Perhaps, in time, when this department gets up and running, it can give us some more trustworthy guidelines as to what is true and what is not accurate.

Right now, you see, we need to know if we have nine million illegals in our midst. We know we have a number of people of foreign extraction, but just who is legal and is not, is unknown to most of us.

The school system a nearby city has thirty-eight languages evident in the lower grades of the school system. Illegal workers are gathered up by the bus loads month-after-month and deported. The rooming houses where they live do not even try to re-rent the rooms in which they lived because they know the same people will be back - with newcomers - in week or two after having spent a few weeks vacation at home.

What, exactly is considered to be illegal?” How can we count 'em if we don't know, who, where or what they may be?. Until I know... what about this nine million? Is it fact or fancy?

A.L.M. December 20, 2002 [c502wds]

 
WHO DONE IT?

Who took melody out of modern music?

You certainly must have missed it by this time! People no longer go about their work humming a happy tune or mouthing romantic lyrics or silly, child-like metric puzzles to help cover cares and concerns of their work day. We used to do so - all of us. Who put a stop to it? Who can be blamed for changing the tuneful songs we loved and used so routinely?

That which poses for popular music today is a pulsing mass, a cacophony of warped noises cuffed with electronic curdles and drizzled in drum-like doodles which suggest the basic reason for tympani but distort and exaggerate it out of proportion.

We don't have to look too far for the main culprits, either!

No, we cannot - we must not – blame the “new” generation! They are the victims rather than the spoilers.

We fall into both catagories ourselves. We should have seen much of this coming on, back before it became endemic and permeated every fiber of the music body politic.

In the later “ Big-band “ years we began to fragment into factions in music which should have signaled danger and urged common sense applications. Elite little groups started setting themselves apart as being “progressive” or “modern” - both terms which we had discovered and re-discovered so often in political life and found wanting. Economics played a seeding role in it all, no doubt, when it became impossible to pay larger groups.

We should have recognized flawed formations right from the start. Such twosomes. trios, or quintets, at best - strung-out string bases, ever- increasing drum sets, fast-finger and flay-handed keyboards, and, on occasion, electronic versions of instruments with melodic capabilites which were sublimated or ignored. Far too many such “progressive” acts went too far, too fast. They became ingrown and snooty verging on, and, actually becoming snotty in some cases.We fell in to other divisive sub-titles, as well We fragmented. The music we played was trivialized.

Many such groups and curious sounds sold well. They became “authority”. The norm. What should be. And, larger groups followed. In addition to all of this ferment taking place within music, technological advances and electronically powered istrumental equipment, hit the markets at this very time in abundance and took over in ways , not at first, even thought to be possible.

When the Moog Synthasizer became available I felt I needed one. That, to me, theMoog was the promise of an new world of music for our future. I never got one, of course, and I have seen the concept eroded by mis-use and mis-judgment and, even more so, by the acceptance of immitations in the place of the real thing. The Moog mode is still there, to be developed, I feel, but set aside for the time being, until we regain our musical equilibrum.

We dropped the melody ball and did not provide adequate safeguards of musical instruction and encouragment for youngsters coming on. We became a nation of music spectators rather than serious performers...showmen rather than sidemen...barkers instead of Ring Masters!

We have a trememdous amount of re-grouping to do if music is to be regenerated; taken out of the twitching hands of specialists who continue to set forth sameness fronted by photogenic freaks, and fueled by self-feed flames of mediocrity.

Hum a tune for me. Sing some words.

They can be re-newed - together like that, but it is going to take time to regain a foothold on the main trail of musical travel and adventure.

A.L.M. December 16, 2002 [c605wds]

 
JUST A'JOSHIN', FOLKS!

We have not, as yet, been told who propped Strom Thurman upright in his chair so he could attend his 100th birthday party. They did a good job, however, and he played his same “old” role well, as he has done for many years.

How long have we viewed Strom Thurman as being “old”? That's been a much-repeated story for many, many years and most lost track of his alleged amorous proclivities. The recent avalanche of accusations which have all but covered Senator Trent Lott is more of the so-called humor dealing with a man of exceptional age for his circumstances.

Lott comes from Mississippi, which is not exactly South Carolina in many ways, and his sense of humor may vary a bit from that of others, but he was, I think, in keeping with the general tenor of remarks being set forth at the party. I rather liked it in that he did not dwell, as so many did - and do - on the tiresome romantic theme exploited by so many for so long. I can't see too much of any vindictively planned racial discrimination in his remarks as being accurate. He did speak of the 1948 Strom Thurman campaign for the Presidency in 1948 as head of the Dixiecrat Party. Most hearers had to be reminded of what that splinter party group favored, but they did hear Trent Lott say: “I voted for him! We all supported him!” They overlooked the simple fact that in 1948 - when Strom Thurman ran for President, Trent Lott, in Mississippi, was every bit of six years old!

From that point on, the note takers started hearing all sorts of things Trent Lott was either saying, seem to be about ready to say, or had said. Their hastily jotted notes took on new authority the more they were read out of the “party time” context, and we have ended up with un-needed trouble at a time when we should, more properly, be thinking of other, more serious things.

Even if I try,I have trouble imagining six-year-old Trent going about his boyhood down there in Mississippi dedicated to developing new and devious ways in which to make life miserable for blacks, blues or reds.

About the only redeeming quality in this vendetta attack on Lott's alleged remarks,has been the fact that it has kept many of his critics from needling others with their usual, often tiresome trivia talk about temporary tensions. While the heat has been on Trent Lott, others have enjoyed a respite from chronic critics. I have a feeling they will be grateful for such favors and be silent for a time while Trent Lott - no longer six years old - puts things in order and resumes his leadership role.

It is true that Trent Lott said other things at the Thurman party and there is little doubt but that he should have quit while he was ahead. He.certainly, must know that by now, too. And knowing that he can, most likely, be a better leader in many ways than before it all happened.

And, congratulations to you, Strom Thurman.

I was thirty-two years old when you ran for President as a Dixiecrat and I did not vote for you.

I hope no one tries to read anything into that statement. I don't know that I refrained from voting for you for any particular reason, but someone is bound to be sure that I must have had some ulterior motive in not doing so. Would you go with just birthday cards next year, sir?

A.L.M. December 18, 2002 [c606wds]

 
DENSITY

All right! I still can't do the Rubric's Cube thing!

Goodness knows how many Christmases ago it was that we all got at least one such colorful toy for Christmas.

By the time I had learned various different ways in which I was able to shift some of the colors around to various sides without disturbing others, the small kids in the family had peeled most all of the colorful decals from the block divisions so it did not matter which way I turned and twisted any of them.

May I digress at this moment to speak a word or so in serious gratitude on behalf of having adequate numbers of small children in the household on whom small bits of blame such as this can be placed. A home without small, mischievous and inquiring small children must be a miserable place!

Now, back to the cube... well, there's nothing to go back to, really, because I've been at a standstill since that time of long ago. ago. I marvel at those who tell me they can work the cube without any undue effort. I marvel when I hear it, not be because I believe them, but because so many such people go out of their way to tell me they can do so! They not only apply the salve eagerly and with ease, but insist on rubbing it in, as well!

I have never, yet, had nerve enough to say: “Put up, or shut up!” to such cube-sayers. Some day I may just do that and we will have a slow show-down, possible at high noon for dramatic associations, when I can also claim the brilliance of the Sun preventing my seeing how it was done.

And, lest some of you may think me to be an inept “square”, I, herewith, point out that I am more of a “cube” than a common same-sided block.

It extends to other puzzling areas...

These “Triangle” puzzles, for instance. They are a three- sided nemesis haunting me from time to-time, as well.

They usually appear in the form of two-three inch pieces of soft wood into which some diligent citizen of far-off China has worked a series of holes.. .one at the apex of the triangle, then a row of two, four, five and six until the areas is full of such holes. If your puzzle has fifteen such holes you take fourteen little wooden pegs which resemble pygmy-sized golf tees or chair-caning plugs, and insert them in all but one of the holes. One Chinese excavation is always left unfilled and you can vary that “empty “ position as you see fit, I understand.

Possibly as a sneaky trick to shift your attention away from the moves you are to make, the pegs are often painted in colored sets - three green, three blues and two whites - a mix of sorts. You can assume that this bit of hue-buggery has nothing or everything to do with the solution to the puzzle. The idea is to “jump” those pegs over each other - removing the one jumped - until just one peg remains.

Try it. It moves along real well, and you end up with four, three or two of the pages unable to move. A scale printed on the bottom edge of the puzzle or on the reverse side,will tell you what you dumb-headed score might be.

There is a redeeming factor about these “triangu-liar” puzzles, however. Just about everyone – and I claim to be one of them – has, at one time, been successful in working the puzzle to perfection. But, I have yet to find a single soul who remembers how he or she did it!


A.L.M. December 17, 2002 [c628wds]

 
WHO DONE IT?

Who took melody out of modern music?

You certainly must have missed it by this time! People no longer go about their work humming a happy tune or mouthing romantic lyrics or silly, child-like metric puzzles to help cover cares and concerns of their work day. We used to do so - all of us. Who put a stop to it? Who can be blamed for changing the tuneful songs we loved and used so routinely?

That which poses for popular music today is a pulsing mass, a cacophony of warped noises cuffed with electronic curdles and drizzled in drum-like doodles which suggest the basic reason for tympani but distort and exaggerate it out of proportion.

We don't have to look too far for the main culprits, either!

No, we cannot - we must not – blame the “new” generation! They are the victims rather than the spoilers.

We fall into both catagories ourselves. We should have seen much of this coming on, back before it became endemic and permeated every fiber of the music body politic.

In the later “ Big-band “ years we began to fragment into factions in music which should have signaled danger and urged common sense applications. Elite little groups started setting themselves apart as being “progressive” or “modern” - both terms which we had discovered and re-discovered so often in political life and found wanting. Economics played a seeding role in it all, no doubt, when it became impossible to pay larger groups.
We should have recognized flawed formations right from the start. Such twosomes. trios, or quintets, at best - strung-out string bases, ever- increasing drum sets, fast-finger and flay-handed keyboards, and, on occasion, electronic versions of instruments with melodic capabilites which were sublimated or ignored. Far too many such “progressive” acts went too far, too fast. They became ingrown and snooty verging on, and, actually becoming snotty in some cases.We fell in to other divisive sub-titles, as well We fragmented. The music we played was trivialized.

Many such groups and curious sounds sold well. They became “authority”. The norm. What should be. And, larger groups followed. In addition to all of this ferment taking place within music, technological advances and electronically powered istrumental equipment, hit the markets at this very time in abundance and took over in ways , not at first, even thought to be possible.

When the Moog Synthasizer became available I felt I needed one. That, to me, theMoog was the promise of an new world of music for our future. I never got one, of course, and I have seen the concept eroded by mis-use and mis-judgment and, even more so, by the acceptance of immitations in the place of the real thing. The Moog mode is still there, to be developed, I feel, but set aside for the time being, until we regain our musical equilibrum.

We dropped the melody ball and did not provide adequate safeguards of musical instruction and encouragment for youngsters coming on. We became a nation of music spectators rather than serious performers...showmen rather than sidemen...barkers instead of Ring Masters!

We have a trememdous amount of re-grouping to do if music is to be regenerated; taken out of the twitching hands of specialists who continue to set forth sameness fronted by photogenic freaks, and fueled by self-feed flames of mediocrity.

Hum a tune for me. Sing some words.

They can be re-newed - together like that, but it is going to take time to regain a foothold on the main trail of musical travel and adventure.

A.L.M. December 16, 2002 [c605wds]

 
THEREBY HANGS...

We very seldom meet with a ghost or kindred creature who sports a real, live, switching tail as a spinal extension.

Satan has had somewhat of a corner on such bodily attachments, it seems, and together with his red-flannel skin he
certainly seems unique enough. Old Nick stands alone in having a tail as a regular portion of his torso.

There is a creditable account, however, of a red man – a Native American known by the somewhat unpleasant name of “Mud Turtle”. He was both - “red” and with tail assembly as well.

Unlike his namesake, he lived near the top of a small cliff on the shore of Nantucket Island.. That would be to the north side of the main island itself, facing the long, extended arm of the sand barrier streches out to all the way to the Great Point Lighthouse.

That elongated area of shifting sands and half-submerged pine forests has long been called "Coatue" and it was really Mud Turtle's true home. He was shunned by his own people there because they deemed him to be innately evil since he was the only one among them who had a tail. In truth they actually feared him, so he lived apart on the island's edge and traded with them across the narrow waters by means of his sturdy canoe. He was a good fisherman; he knew the backwaters area better than any other man. He was also keenly aware of the herbs and shells the main island offered which were not available on the sandy shifting shores of Coatue.

We have little creditable knowledge of the groups who lived there in the early days. It is said that a ship of Europeans wrecked on the barrier on Coatue's constantly moving shores. It was looted and all hands murdered by natives.... possibly some of Mud Turtle's earlier kinsmen.

A time passed Mud Turtle was, no doubt, blamed for anything bad which happened to the tribe. But he went about his tasks of of fishing in the backwaters and exploring up and down the coast. On such trips he found the King of a tribe down the coast from his own area had a daughter whom he felt had to be the most beautuful woman in the world. When rumor came to him that she was about to be given in marriage, he decided to kidnap her and to bring her back to his cave dwelling on Nantucket.

There was little time for special preparation. He must depend on suprizing her guards,and the first really foggy he carefully brought his canoe quietly to the shore where he knew she dwelt.All was going well, until, in his excitement, he felt his tail begin to wag from side to side, then rise up and down, and back and forth from side to side. The guards heard the unusual night noise. They thought a hugh cat creature had found its way from the dense forest to their camp. They were alert but didn't know where to look and when they came to realize it was Mud Turtle he was swinging his body from tree to tree, actully flying, it seemed, back to his canoe.

In desperation they did all the could. They rained a shower of arrows on the escaping man through the foggy bank scudding above where they thought he might be. Several days later, Mud Turtles' body washed up on the shore beneath his cave home and the Kharzds, now at war with the Mud Turtles' tribe, gained control of his arrow-pierced body. They amputated the tail and burned it. They placed a conch shell in each hand and burried him, face down in a deep pit of muck.

Mud Turtle still searches for his lost love there on Coatue on foggy nights. It is said that he blows mournful calls on conche shells cupped in his hands. They never see his face. He is allways looking away from them, but they insist he has re-grown a long, red tail which is never still.

A. L. M. December 15, 2002 [c689wds]

 
WEDDING FEES

For twenty years or more after the founding of Jamestown, Virginia, it was required that young couples ask permission of the Royal Governor if they planned to marry.

One might think that it was the intent of the colony's House of Burgesses to do all they could to thwart romance and matrimony. They seem to have plans to re-write marriage legislation about every five years or so.

One reason for the Royal Governor's interest in weddings throughout the land was to be found in the fact that he got the largest portion of the license fees as part his pay check. He was looking out for Number One, not playing Cupid.

The law was strict in many ways, too. Only a minister of the established Church of England could perform the marriage ceremony Any so-called “pretended marriages” were null and void, the man and woman were subject to trial for unlawful cohabitation and all children born to such unions were illegitimate and without rights of any kind. Ministers taking part in such false weddings could be punished, as well.

A young couple, intent on starting a family, of their own, must first declare their intention to do so before the public by publishing banns for three successive weeks at their parish church. One must assume that “publishing” meant nailing a written announcement concerning the planned wedding on the church door. When that had been accomplished satisfactorily they were ready to ask the Royal Governor to issue a license for them to proceed.

The were made aware, at that time, of the laws of 1642-43 which prohibited the firing of arms, except at weddings and funerals to “prevent alarms” and “to conserve powder.” Fee payments varied over the years but legislation of 1705, disallowed fees to more than one minister in any parish even if another assisted with the actual ceremony. By the Act of 1745 the Royal Governor received 20 shillings (about $3.33); The Clerk: 5 shillings (about 84-cents); the Minister 20-shillings ,if by license; if by banns - 5 shillings, and for publishing the banns 1 shilling, 6 pence or around a quarter. During the “Interregnum” - 1775 - when the colony had to raise extra money - the tax was doubled to 40 shillings for every marriage.

As settlements spread out, the Clerk started issuing licenses locally, but a list was forwarded to the Governor so he could keep a tally on how many fees he had earned. Those lists, oddly enough, did not, as a rule, include the name of the female involved nor of the minister performed. One such list, mysteriously, does show the names of women involved. The minister took it all quite seriously,too. The Rev. John Jones, of Augusta parish, sued the Rev. Adam Smith, of Botetourt parish. in public court in 1773 and recovered 2-pounds,2-shillings and 6-pence for marriage fees unlawfully claimed by his ministerial associate.

By an Act of October 1776, the Commonwealth of Virginia, in one of its first actions, reduced the wedding tax to 20 shillings and eliminated the Royal Governor's fee entirely.

These amounts are credited to “Hening's Statues at Large” but historian Joseph A. Waddell in his “Annals of Augusta County”, 2nd edition - 1902 had this comment:

“The present wiser generation has relieved marriage of some of its burdens. The fees of clerks and ministers legally demandable, are only one dollar each, and no tax is imposed. As this is the age of pensions and subsidies, very likely after awhile bounties will be offered to stimulate the ardour of young couples.”

A.L.M. December 12, 2002 [c600wds]

 
FALSENESS

How can some people pretend to be someone other than who they really are?

It happens all the time, it seems, especially in the area of politics. So many leaders of the people come to feel they are, indeed something special, even unique. They forget to represent us and instead come to rule over us. We pretend we don' t know that as long as it seems to serve our advantage.

If, then, anyone is to be chastised for any such infringement upon the rights of others, it should be, logically, those of us who permit our politicians to waver and to become subservient to the rigors of one of the most difficult occupations in all of mankind's many tasks - that of ruling over others.

Those who stay with it often do so by default.

I seldom come across a “dedicated” statesman in my reading. They are there, to start with, for the purpose of survival. Of having a job, bringing in the where-with-all for family and or a special way of life which seem,for a time, to meet their needs. Many drop by the wayside. A few are wise enough to get out before they becoming steeped in the enticing brew of potential gain they think they see ahead. Far more of them become underlings in the elaborate organization it takes to keep such a system going. A few stay on because the picking seems easy and they can do it effortlessly. They seek ways and means to keep it that way.. Who wants to give up such a comfortable situation?
..
I keep thinking of one young man, in particular, whom I admire to this day because he had the courage to get out when he realize the Eden-like garden of political life was anything but what the school textbooks had said it was supposed to be. He found it to be, in reality, entirely different! He entered state wide politics and did well from the start, but he did not have to be there very long to realize that the textbook version of political life and what it actually proved to be were different things entirely. .He quickly came to know what we call “back scratching” was fundamental. You favor my action and I'll favor yours. Multiply such little favors by the hundreds and merely merely trying to remember them becomes impossible.. To honor them becomes a burden; a pagan site upon which a politician offers his soul.

Our best leaders, you see, might well be those very people who have stayed out of the political areas or, perhaps, those few who left it purposely. It is ironic, I suppose, at we have come to view these truths as being self-evident. We know many of the things which are wrong about our political system as it exists today, and yet we do not have the courage to try doing anything really constructive about changing it ...if we knew how. I wonder too if, in a political sense, we can anticipate a time when we might have “A Great Awakening” experience era?

Much depends on what we really want, of course.

We are not to sure on that score. The present system gives us what we think we want which, at times, discourages definition. We are proud of what it has been on some occasions and there are far less commendable systems running rampant in the world about us.

Let's not knock it, I say, but let's try to keep it fairly clean and reasonably honest. If you consider all politicians as puppets on a stage remember you are back stage pulling the strings.

A L M. December 13, 2002 [c618wds]

 
MY WAY

It is often true that some of the likes and dislikes we claim to be basic in our lives are flawed.

We might agree as to surface qualities we deem just and good, and fair and right according to generalized religious or social principles we have had patiently dinned into our heads from childhood. Sooner or later, however, we find that some disagreement will arise because all of us did not listen uniformly to parental instructions along such lines. Some individuals, at this point, henceforth to be designated as “they”, are sure we were the ones who “did not get it” years ago. We, of course, know we did listen well and gained an understand of basic rules of social order.

Being mutually assured of being right, “we” and “they” graciously step aside, on many such occsions, and each seems to allows the other to have his or her own way.

Blessed, indeed, is the family in which such give-and-take is actually practiced as the path to peace.

It doesn't always work out that well, of course.

I'm certain you know, as I do, of families in which such petty bickering over minor differences have disturbed the family for many years. In the worst cases, we could even cite situations in which brothers and sisters – or other family pairs – including husbands and wives, mothers and sons or daughters - have refused to even speak with each other for years, even though they shared the same living areas. I have seen that horrible situation exist between brother and sister, husband and wife, two sisters, two brothers and other such combinations, including third-party complications and, after many years of suffering such a blight, neither one of the parties could really say what had been wrong for so long a time. The division had, usually, come about through some minor problem which, once formed, gained new growth with every change of season until it became an unrecognizable mass of everything and nothing held together by non-existent ties, hooks locks and knotted strings of malicious words and thoughtless accusations.

It would seem silly to say that we can think along such lines in regard to world wide “peace”. But, after all, what are we other than a large family, growing, contending, changing group of people. As with most of the “worst cases” I have know, it was – in truth - “too late”. They have gone too far. That is something to ponder when we take on world-wide peace problems, but that does not permit us to continue working on the world “peace” problems by keeping in touch with our own friends and neighbors.

That's where it all starts, really!

A trite thought? Yes. Tiresomely so, because it is being said over and over again, at many levels. Until we, as individual citizens of nations, can get along with each other, there can be little hope for Peace on Earth

At this precise moment, what petty little different lets you think you are different, even “better than” someone else? Such a handicap can exist without our being aware of it at all.

You work on yours and I'll work on mine, then we can get together again some time. Best make some notes, too, because we might not remember what our differences used to be.

A.L.M. December 12, 2002 [c563wds]

 
LULL

In general, we may think things have settled down somewhat in the Holy Land. During these pre-holiday weeks we are, understandable, occupied with other concerns. The years between 1917 and 1921 were deceptively quiet as well.

It was a confusing time in the Holy Land and part of the reason why that seems to be so is that the area was controlled by the Ottoman Turks during much of this period and many Jews actually left the Holy Land area..

British public opinion had put the Balfour project on the back burner for a time until a Jewish politician by the name of Herbert Samuel, formerly a liberal cabinet member minister, was named as High Commissioner.

Under the terms of the Treaty of Versailles Britain had been mandated to govern what is now Israel, the Occupied Territories and Jordon. The Balfour declaration, you will recall, required Britain to implement civil power which would “facilitate Jewish immigration” under conditions which would encourage them to settle in the land.

The Jewish population of the area had actually shrunk to about 60-thousand during the final years of Turkish rule. The post war years had seen increased immigration from Europe and America in 1919 through 1923, and it became a cause of alarm to the Arabic nations indicating to them that the Zionist Movement had grown a set of teeth. In 1920 an armed Jewish protective league or militia was formed called the Haganah.

1922 saw some changes in the British attitude. A so called White Paper on Palestine, was issued which divided the area into two administrative districts. The larger, Eastern portion of the mandated territory was called Transjordan, which I recall seeing on maps of the area for the next decade. This sector was given a measure of self-rule under its new Hashermite emir, Abdullah, who had been expelled from Saudi Arabia. The reasons for this expulsion are, only now, becoming obvious. Zionists were very upset with this specification since the British dictated that Jews were not to settle therein. They were to settle only west of the Jordon valley rift And, this restriction is held to be be valid today. Now, jump to 1929 when the Great Depression got off to with a dramatic crash on Wall Street in New York. Jewish immigration rose quickly in the Holy Land and Arabic authorities become concerned. Rioting resulted and more than one hundred and thirty Jews were killed. These riots came to a peak in 1936 having become more bloody all during the Depression era. It was in 1936 that Arab and Jewish paramilitary groups clashed for the first time. The Jewish armed forces were aided to victory by a fanatical Christian named Orde Wingate, who was a Zionist officer. Then, in the midst of a general Palestinian uprising, the British set forth another document known as the Peel Commission Report which suggested that the Holy Land be divided into two parts - one to be Jewish and the other to be solely Arabic.

At that time, in 1938, Kristalnacht, Germany, took place. This pogram of the Jews in Germany changed the world-wide Jewish homeland movement markedly in the war and post-war years.

It remains fresh in memories which determine daily events today in the Middle East. But our concerns have veered heavily toward the Iraq problem the Al Qaeda and the Terrorist threats. It would prove to be very poor judgment for us to to think that the Middle East cauldron has cooled.

A.L.M. December 11, 2002 [c570wds]

 

3:16 AM
If you are awake at 3:16 in the morning having aroused from an active dream session that makes you seek comfort “back among the living”... what do you do? You do what you must and in my case that means I light a lamp, reach for a clipboard and start to write. That's “normal” for me.

I’ve been told I should write of my dreams and make a fortune selling them, but I’d much rather just be away from their confusion and frustrations. Certainly it doesn’t make good sense to write about the fantasy that’s been with me for- - well, it seems like “hours” but the dream authorities tell me it all happened few moment before I awakened.

I don’t know that I subscribe to that sort of theory-think or not, but they know more about dreams than I do so their word for it ought to be respected.

I do a lot of traveling in my dreams, and I would imagine those experts can explain that easily enough as unrequited wish fulfillment which has been with me all the days of my life. My travels in dreams,however,are far more complicated and cumbersome than anything I could possibly get mixed up with in real life.

Anyway, at three 3-something in the morning it is nice to gather a coverlet or robe over my shoulders to ward off the chilly night air and to simply sit here and write about anything that comes to mind.

This morning my thoughts turned to something my grandfathr did many years ago. Why I should think of that subject at three-something in the morning,I do not know. It was the time he told us about wanting certain letters engaved on his tombstone when it came his turn to die. He said he had discussed it with my grandmother - all ninety-three pounds of her - and that she approved.

“Yes," he told us quite seriously,"Idee,(her name was Ida but he called her “Idee”.) listened to me and she agrees the letters should be there. B T N G R - right after my name.” Without a word spoken from either one of us, we knew grandchildren would be joking even as he held forth profoundly as if reading from the stone itself.

We, of course, waited to see what he letter might stand for and Grandaddy delayed telling us. Eventually the clarificaton was made:

As if reading from the stone once more: "The capital letters: B...T...N...G...R!" following the name John Loeffert - "Born Tired, Never Got Rested!”

I went back to sleep and slept well until morning.

A.L.M. December 11, 2002 [c562wds]

 


PLUMP?

Pre-holiday studies available show that one-third of the American
populace is now officially listed as “obese”.

This trend has been becoming more and more apparent in recent years especially among young boys and girls.

The fact that we are a fat nation is evident every time you see a street seen pictured on TV or in print, people of all types rushing back and forth and not realizing they are being photographed. The boobs and butts are bouncing; hips are leaping and hitting other hips and widely spread and heavily clad feet are balancing a load of lard that make them both wary and weary of any movement. Pot bellies are prominent and belts and pants bandsare fighting a one-front war are not winning.

The walking we do is limited.It’s a necessity required to move us from on place to anoher for sitting. For older people, that is one of the problems, not enough walking or exercise of any kind. For youngsters, the culprit most frequently named is too much television watching. The term “couch potato” is now a part of our language and the lack of exercise is telling on our youth in rather costly ways. Fast food consumption comes in as a close runner-up with both young and old alike.

The fact that fat has become so visible should, one would think, be alarm enough to alert all of us to the process which is leading to untold amounts of medical expense and physical suffering in the years to come. Overeating is at the stage where it is very much the same as having a disease of some sort.

We eat too much and too often. We feel we must snack when we are reading, watching TV, at the computer, driving, arriving at almost any location where vending machines are nearby and loaded with chips, candy, peanuts and other such lures. It takes a twelve-ounce bottle of any soft drink to wash it all down, too. Better get two. You’ll need one in the car as you ride along.

We are making food choice largely by habit or visual examination but seldom pay any attention to the nutritional qualities of the foods we buy or prepare. Since we are also a nation led by fads and fantasies there is a marked tendency to do whatever seems to be in fashion at the moment...if a new form of Taco is available eat it often if only to show our are hip to the times and right among the doers of this nation.

Much of the fat being produced in abundance now is being created in the educational areas of the county. Not only do schools operate “cafeterias” and “lunch rooms”, but they have set up a network of vending machines to feed the elementary-high school-and college kids between classes or on any absence from a class. The unit they study each year on nutrition and healthful foods and eat habit is far too short to meet the need for guidance in food choices. Cooks and other kitchen workers have been handicapped for years in being required to make use of government surplus food shipments in tiresome duplications. They give up seeking new ways to prepare such foods and the children get tired of having the same things again and again.

We foster glossy studies on types of fat and other features of foods and engage in multi-million dollar weight reduction plans and schemes by the score or more. The effort is on the wrong end of things, you might say. We are exerting ourselves at spending our money to get rid of extra weight while failing to address the basic causes of the continual increase in poundage.

If we, as adults, continue this trend we are remiss in caring for our offspring to the best of our abilities. We are asking for trouble on all sides by continuing to be lax in our own diet control and in that of our children. It is past time to wake up when we are being warned by what we see...one third of us now classed as "obese" to put it nicely. Fat, that is
F-A-T..."fat."

A.L.M. December 10, 2002 [c720wds]

 
BUTT RUNNING

Remember reading about when the days and nights when “Rum Running" made the headlines?

There have been several times in our national history when it became profitable to move quantities of spiritus frumenti from one location to another and it proved especially profitable if one could effect the exchange without the payment of taxes normally associated with such a transaction.

It is closely akin to “smuggling” in a very real sense and remarkably ingenious schemes have been worked out in detail by some really talented individuals to bring about such mercantile movements in order to increase one's wealth appreciably.

Rum Running was literally the running of the product rum - and kindred brews - either from the place of manufacturer or from stocks secreted at various locations “over the waters”. The concept is not new, yet it is not “old” either. We still have rum running , now blottered as “bootlegging”, a designation it picked up during the era of national prohibition. Some police jurisdictions have regular offenders ....entire families, as a matter of fact, who still insist on running a car full of plastic milk containers with their home-made brew contained therein to metro districts for SWAT - “Sales Without Any Taxes”

Our current problem in Virginia, however, is not rum running. Today it is the clandestine movement of ever increasing stocks of Virginia cigarettes north on Interstate 81 and Interstate 95. This has come to be a viable but illegal “business” largely because New York and Connecticutt have a tax of $l.50 on a pack of cigarettes and Virginia has such a tax set at 2.5-cents per pack. I have seen it estimated that one can load up a semi and realize a profit of around $25,000 per load. Run four trucks and get rich.

I have heard this bogus business called: “Butt Running” and those persons engaged in it speak of each other as “Kicking butt up I-81 or I-95!”

Dreamers and others who think there is an easy solution to this growing problem, ask why we allow it to continue. No legislator, including the ones I voted for and will continue to vote for, wants to touch the problem with a the proverbial ten foot - or longer - pole. Tobacco farming is a major crop in Virginia, tobacco processing is a major industry - domestic and foreign, as well - and the industry supports the government and, as good back scratching technique goes, the government, then, supports the industry. Simple logic.

Right now, with stringent budget cuts being made Virginia and with more on the way, many critics are saying: “Up the cigarette tax!” Some are yelling the suggestion and I have been amazed at the verbal dexterity with which some of my favorite political persons have gracefully sidestepped the mire for the moment.

A compromise of some sort?

Maybe later, when the New Year is here, but as for right now - not a chance! Any bill to raise the “sin tax” on cigs would melt away into nothingness before it hit the floor. I would sooner place my wager on the celebrated “snowball in Hell” premise

December 9, 2002 [c529wds]

 
TOMORROW'S SPORTS?

What do you think will be America's favorite sports activity a generation from now?

We do change our favorites. We have shifted considerably in my time and, in general, things seem to move along faster today than they did then, so we will certainly see some radical changes in the future. Such changes evolve rather slowly as one generation ages and fades away and youth takes over as the control points for sports concerns. They, in turn, will give way to others who develop fan status - an entirely new set of admirers.

Two general classifications exist at all times: those who are content simply to watch sports being played - the spectator types -
and those who actually take a physical part in the game in either an amateur or professional basis. The divisions seem to find themselves in disagreement quite often. That is true, it seems, especially in regard to minor points concerning how the game is to be played and never the twain shall meet, it seems, on some common ground to decide which sport is superior to all others and why. Watching it played and playing are divergent views of the same subject, but so often incompatible. Much of that is due to the realistic fact that the actual player is limited in the number of years he can fully participate whereas the sitter-watcher-commentator endures into octo-years and becomes more and more of an authority on the finer points of the game which does not encourage durable decades of friendship and camaradarie.

I can't claim that I actually remember John L. Sullivan being the first Heavyweight Champion of the boxing world. He was long gone before I saw the light of day. My grandfather, however, spoke of them and of James Corbett, Jim Jeffries and Jess Willard with respect verging on awe which told me he, too, had, at one time, been a sports fan himself even though I never thought I never thought of him in that role. They were “real men”, “fine fighters”, bestial and bare-knuckled.

Pro boxing was the big sport then. I followed it all the way through the Jack Dempsey era, who, suppose, was my first boxer. Then, we had Gene Tunney, who was somewhat different and not quite so “primitive” as were the usual candidates for the Heavyweight crown. There was Max Schmeling to add a Tutonic touch, Max Baer, too - later on, with an Italian influence when Primo Carnera moved in for a short stay and , then, who was it? - Jack Sharkey, whatever lineage he might have been, James Braddock, then along came Joe Louis - 1937 to 1949.

Joe Louis,The Brown Bomber, was almost a venerable personality with many. In fact, he was so popular that I find myself sitting here wondering who followed Joe Louis. He seems to have eclipsed those who followed him in my sports memories. Joe Louis was in the newspaper, the magazines, on radio, in the Newsreels at the movie houses and in filmed specials which followed every major fight in the '30's and '40's.

I remember one special recognition of Joe Louis when he became Heavyweight Champion of the World. The newspaper “The Afro-Amercian” published, I think, in Baltimore at that time, ran a picture of Joe Louis that was unforgetabe.. The paper was printed in a large 11-12 column format and they used the large center folder full signature to picture victorious Joe Louis in what passed for color photograhy in those days - the centerfold spread was almost life-sized. I can still see one of those newsprint poster sheets taped to the glass window of the barber shop downtown and half a dozen other places big enough to hold it.

We were boxing fans. We actually boxed in gym classes at school. I remember being paired up with - or, rather - “against” - a hulk of a guy named Strawn which experience effectively cured me of any fisticuff ambitions I might have had at that point. It think we had “three-minute round”, and those where the longest three minutes I ever spent in all my life.

Football was not too big then, except the annual classic of VPI meeting VMI in Roanoke, Va. On Thanksgiving Day. Baseball was in an October event with the World Series games. Basketball - high school games. The America' s Cup yatch races; The “Indy 500” and speed racing trials on the salt flats out west or at Daytona Beach in Florida. The horse races and sulky cart runs at the fair grounds - those were our sports favorites, but it was not “organized” to anything like the extent we see it today.

Think about sports maybe just a decade from now! What'll it be like, I wonder!

a.l.m. December 7, 2002 [c807wds]

 

TOO MUCH! TOO FAST!

Yesterday, within one radio news segment, sandwiched neatly between three commercials, I found we now have available, or, will have very soon, both a Self-tuning Piano and an Acoustic Refrigerator/Freezer.

I can't say how long I have waited for such a double wonder to happen!

Will this flow of fantastic inventiveness never cease?

We only recently found a new home for our spinet piano of some forty years enjoyable residence, and I am thinking of the number of times we had it tuned, with varied results. Never once did it have an opportunity to re-tune itself, which new pianos now do. Eighty-eight wonderful keys slighted!

I am told the new system works pretty much as does the present electronic tuner I use with my vintage acoustic guitar of some sixty-four years. I like it. It is very efficient and quite small, too. I feared the new piano tuner might be larger than the piano itself, but that has has been pretty well taken care of and we can expect self-tuning pianos to glut the keyboard market any day now. Set! Bing ! Forty-five seconds later: “Okay, boys, hit it from the top!” In a good many cases it might be wise to go with self-playing pianos, too.

Now, it's time to move along to the food preparation area of your home.

The Technicians have just finished installed your all new, snow-white, absolutely quiet acoustic refrigerator. The buzzing, antiquated box you've had all these years, has been loaded on a truck and will soon grace an eroding corner of the county landfill as yet another antiquated piece of electrical equipment which is now outclassed in every way. The new box is powered by noise.

Somebody just recently found out that sound can freeze things if you make it loud enough. It would seem that bit of information would have come to ear earlier with all the noises we make about us in these modern times, but it is a recent development, I've been told. I know for a fact that when someone kicks an electric guitar amp up a few notches, it sends a cold chill up and down my quaking spine. And, in spite of the fact that noise does all your cooling for you, you don't hear a thing. The “noise” energy is contained in small tubes, I understand ,and I wonder what happen if one of them springs a leak during the night. I have heard of “all Hell breaking loose” and I think that's what it might sound like with bit of purgatory tossed in. When you pick yourself up somewhere around Chicago, get your eardrums vulcanized or just patched up a bit, you might wonder how and when it all started.

That would be the waning days of the year 2002.

There is some concern, too, about the affect acoustic refrigeration might have on the market is general. Some see it as sound investment while others are rather cool about the whole thing.

A.L.M. December 6, 2002 [c512wds]

 
HORN OF PLENTY

We had a Fall-motif cornucopia on our Thanksgiving Day dinner table – the main one – this year. Two tables, because we are a large family and a growing one, too.

Our daughter, Elizabeth, had fashioned it out of dried leaves of many colors and changing hues, a sprig or two of “Dusty Miller”, I think it was, some holly berries with clumps of those sticky, pointed leaves, some dried flowers in brighter clusters and half a dozen, pencil-sized pussy willow sticks poking up in the air as if by chance. It was all most impressive.

Now, since I am the only octo-aged member of our family, it has become more or less accepted procedure that I be the one to ask The Lord's blessing upon our food. When I saw that centerpiece, I was inspired to do a bit of rehearsal considering what I might actually say when asked to do so. The piece was a paradox, It was dead ... used ...spent, and yet we were to realize that within it were the seeds which were the promise of tomorrow and renewed beauty and life. I drifted a bit and found myself wondering what I would say when the moment came to do so.

It did. The moment, that is. That voice which is to be obeyed said: “Quiet! Everyone! Quiet, please! It is time for the Blessing.” There was sudden hush, as if someone had turned a faucet off, and I glanced up for the nod which was my cue to begin. There was no nod. Instead, two of the youngest grandsons burst into a joyous song of Thanksgiving! It was the old “Friar Jacques” melody with suitable words, and I heard several adult “Amen's” of praise and appreciation when they had finished their song. I don't think anyone saw me dab the corner of my eyes with the over sized napkin waiting at my place at the table.

It is a great and rewarding moment when Age finds itself upstaged by Youth.

It can be a moment of attainment for older folks when we see the youngster taking upon themselves eagerly and enthusiasm whose routine which are suddenly ours no more. I had been through the same thing years before when I came from work on evening and my wife told me I could forget about fixing the electric iron I'd been promising to repair for months, because our not-quite-teen boy had fixed it for her.

We need to mark such occasions in our lives. After all, that's what we have been “bringing them up” to do, isn't it? There comes a time when what we have been doing logically falls to someone else. If they do so, and do it well, we know we have done a passable job.

A.L.M. December 5, 2002 [c475wds]

 



1 : 9 ?

I find I am, quite sharply, led to question a statement I heard repeated several times this past week-end which insisted our national armed forces were not only first among all nations of the Earth, but that it would take the total power of the next nine nations to equal it!

I ask for the basic, known facts to back such an assertion.

This was not a chance remark, not uninformed street talk, not a bit of smart-alec chatter around the coffee machine and snacks, but a portion of a major address, obviously “researched”, planned or evolved to be delivered before a regional conference which was to be reported in the media.

I would begin, by asking who's figures were used.

I heard the statement in two ways:

At one moment, I was being told our defenses against more Terrorism of “September 11th” caliber were adequate and that we could be fairly certain of being able to meet any such attacks in the immediate future. Our armed forces were strong, but being improved steadily, for which we should all be thankful.

But, at other times, I was made to feel ashamed that we, as a sort of bully-of-the-block, had developed such a monstrous machine of militant power primarily so we could rule supreme over other nations less prone to such excesses. We were again told it would take the armed forces of the next nine nations, lumped together, to equal our war-making power. I found no list of who those nine nations might be, or any indication concerning how their actual, known military power was judged so accurately. How does one select the “next nine nations”? By population, by some economic factor, geographic placement and land mass, language, race, creed, color?

I'm sure persons charged with our national defense would like to know how such a lopsided ratio can be shown to exist. As was intimated, we could probably do away with much that we now deem essential as a base on which we might be able to build even greater protective powers.

Another point: how many of these “nine nations” are we expected to protect and fight for in any future conflict regardless of where they might be located? If we are to do what we can to sustain a form of government which we, and they, deem to be proper for free men and women, we must cooperate with and defend, if need be, those who have a like belief and trust and to do so with sufficient force and alacrity when, wherever and if, the need arises

Free speech is one of our most valuable treasures. Care should be taken to see that what is said so freely is also factual, fair and enunciated for the common good.

It appears that we must be aware of the fact that the very freedoms we prize so highly can be used against us by those who would do us harm, intentionally or unwittingly.

A.L.M. December 4, 2002 [c503wds]

 

THE BODKINS BOY'S BANJO

Every family has a host of stories waiting to be told.

An older lady came to me years ago with sheaf of handwritten family-type essays. Her daughter knew I had marketed a few such items in the past and asked that I discuss “writing” with her mother to encourage her to spend more time writing. I did so, and after typing them and editing some a bit, tried several publishers of such material but to no avail. She was pleased when we finally arranged for her stories to be published in her home town newspaper where she actually grew up, for which she was paid two dollars per story. Someday, someone will gather them from those pages and put them
in booklet form to sell to guests at the area's rather posh hotels as folklore.

One story stays with me, because it has to do with music, I suppose. She had a brother named Bud. Just “Bud”, too, and occasionally called “Buddy.” He liked country music.

The family had a cat, which is not unusual, but this was an exceptionally large, yellow cat. It stayed around the barn most of the time and the children knew of it's being better than the house-centered adults. One day the little girl missed seeing “Old Yellar” and , in time, wondering what had become of him she found her brother scraping yellow fur from a large pelt nailed to the back, sunny side of one of the numerous sheds on the place. Buddy Bodkin wanted a banjo and he had set about making himself one. His sister told me how he went about it.

He made two large hoops by wetting small branches,wrpped hem arund a keg He nailed them tight and when they had dried and he carved them thin until they looked like over-sized embroidery hoops such as those used to cross-stitch designs on pillow cases and tablecloths. One, you see, had to be slightly larger than the other, mind you, so when Bud wet them and the cat pelt again, actually soaked them for a while, he could then put the small circle down flat, lay the cat skin across it and then pound the larger ring over the smaller one and thus stretch the the skin to drum-like tautness. When it dried slowly, weighed down with bricks and stones to keep it level even to make it look a banjo drum had to be. Later, I'm told, he added a sturdy oak strip from the inside bottom edge and through the upper edge to a point well up into the neck almost to the fifth peg. That gave this five-stringer extra strength to keep it from bowing up from pressure of the tight strings.

I don't recall any mention of any “Old Yellar” cat gut strings, so I suppose he managed to buy a set of strings for it in time or, more than likely, he traded something for a used set from someone. Anyway, Bud Bodkin played that home-made banjo for the to his life. Self taught, and it took him no time at all to learn to play. He and his sister used to sing at family get-togethers, church doings, picnics and the like and he played dances all over the countryside with other musicians. By that time, his sister, who told me this and other stories, had married and moved away from the area.

Today, I know skilled artisans who actually fashion unique guitars, mandolins, fiddles, banjos and other such instruments, but they do it in a much grander fashion. Bud had little or nothing to work with but he had a desire to want to do such creative things. Yet, he made a life of enjoyment for himself and a multitude of people who heard Bud Bodkin's home-made banjo being picked so skillfully driven by impulses from the inmost heart and soul of a boy who came to be a man with self-sustained music as his lifeblood.

A.L.M. December 3, 2002 [c674wds]

 
December 3, 2002

GOLDEN OPPORTUNITIES

Many people seem to continue to think that becoming wealthy is done simply by going into some forlorn, rock strewn hill country and picking up solid nuggets of pure gold in shapes ranging from the size of peanuts to pineapples. That's the way it seems to work in the movies but the Hollywood versions and those that occur in actual happenings vary a great deal.

So it is in gathering other forms of wealth, too, it appears. Few investors chance upon a single stock, which, once purchased, becomes a money machine spewing out waves of dollars with all associated bells and whistles build-in. It too depends on thoughtful planning, investigation, and detailed analysis of both good and bad potentials. It is a slow, involved process. We are know that, but we still dream of sudden wealth coming our way; even try to make it happen now and then by lottery ticket purchases or risky stock ventures.

“Finding” gold is one thing, but processing it for use in the market is quite another matter entirely. Of course, there have been recorded instances where lucky individuals have come across gold in more or less a pristine state, either in flakes or veins of the precious metal, or more dramatically glistening lumps in the placer streams washed free of contaminants and ready to display. Most gold, and wealth, in general, demands more work once it is found

One common process has been to pulverize a quantity of soil or rock and then to treat the resulting powder with a chemical additive to bring out the precious metal. Many chemicals were tired after the specimen had been put through the stamp mill. It was known, at that time, that sulphuric acid applied to copper dust would bring out copper. After much testing mercury was used to leach out sixty per-cent of the gold contained in a specimen. Then, in 1879, a group of scientists in Scotland discovered that the use of cyanide instead which leached out ninety-seven per-cent of the gold. This process became standard procedure in the United States in 1895.

This, understandably, changed the entire gold industry. It made the re-processing of mountains of old slag piles profitable and there were, for a time, mountains of such slag available. At this time, many people bought stock in gold mines when “had been reopened” to become rich and some of such stock certificates are still sitting in desk drawers to this day – waiting.

By 1969, however, rising labor costs and the near exhaustion of deposits threatened conventional gold mining with extinction. At that time, the U.S. Bureau of Mines proposed using cyanide on large, open air piles of material. This method literally soaked the huge piles of debris with cyanide and gathered the resulting run-off down stream in ponds, where, when treated with carbon, it surrendered all of its gold content. This process made it possible to bring gold out of material where it was not visible to the eye, and the mountains of processed materials were re-done once more. It proved to be profitable as long as .08 of an ounce of gold could be found per ton.

The cyanide method has, of course, been assailed in recent years by environmentalists. Much of this came about because injudicious use of many such workings imperiled underground water sources, killed birds by the thousands, and created large fields of toxic waste containing copper, iron, mercury, zinc, cadmium, selenium and other such materials. They are now seen as the toxic clean-up sites of our new century.

Gold, gotten, you see; like wealth in other forms, is not always profitable. Eventually, someone has to pay for any excessive use or mis-use thereof. Holdings can corrupt entire families causing utter ruin downstream as the runoff seeps into the basic element of good living.

A.L.M. December 2, 2002 [c647wds]

 
NANYE-HI

She grew up to be known as Nancy Ward, but when she was born in 1738, as a member of the Wolf Clan, her Mother, Tame Doe, a pure-blooded Cherokee Indian, named her Nanye-hi. The proud mother was sister to the Cherokee Chief Attakullakulla.

The man who bore that name meaning “Little Carpenter” was widely admired as one of the wisest men of the nation and also a staunch friend of the English. Nanye-hi seems to have lived in he shadow of her powerful uncle and she came to favor the English over the French and the Indian tribes they came to control.

Nanye-hi married a young warrior name Kingfisher and, as was a custom of the tribe chose to accompany him on his campaigns in an extended decade-long war against the Creeks.

The series of campaigns culminated in the battle of Tawila in 1755. Kingfisher was killed in that battle, and when those about him saw him falls they mde ready to retreat. Nanye-hi rose up from behind a log where she had been concealed re-loading her husband's weapons, some insist, and she rallied the men around her so that they held fast and attacked with renewed fervor. The enemy was so confused by her sudden, active participation they gave way and she thus helped to bring about the Cherokee victory at that critical battle of the long war. Tribal leaders, in appreciation and acknowledgement of her bravery, bestowed upon her the title of "Ghigua" which designated her as “a Beloved Woman of the Cherokees.” That gave her a place on the Council of Women and a vote on the Council of Chefs. The Council of Women also had total responsibility for the treatment of all prisoners and could do with them as they liked, torture them, kill them, make them servants or, if they wish, adopt them into their own families.

Nanye-hi married a second time, and, as was acceptable among the Cherokees, she became the wife of a white trader from Ireland by way of South Carolina. He had taken up residence among the friendly tribe. Nanye-hi became Nancy Ward. Nancy had her second child, having one boy by Kingfisher known as Fivekiller. Nancy Wade named her second child - a girl - Catherine.


She took a strong position on the Council of Women and became widely respected as a worker for Peace. She participated in several treaty conferences and worked tirelessly attempting to bring about new undestanding between the Cherokees and white settlers. On at least two occcasions she sent warnings to whites that their settlements were to be raided by dissident troublemakers. She felt such surpise attacks might destroy what good relationships existed between the Cherokee people and the whites Nancy Ward was to face disappointment in much of her later lfie...both personal and with the affairs of her nation. She witnessed broken treaties and probably foresaw something akin to the Trail of Tears disaster which was to be inflicted on her people after her death. She saw her home village of Chota burned and she had to move further down to Ocoee River. She died in l822 and was buried near Benton, Tennessee.

To the last she continued to work to bring about peace. She remained true to her famed Uncle's ideals. One example of personal tragedy:. Her husband, Bryant had not told her he had a wife and daughter in Ireland, and when they turned up without warning Nancy's life changed abruptly. She divorced Bryant Wade by Cherokee law. To divorce a husband all a Cherokee wife had to do was to gather his belongings and place them outside their dwelling. She did so promptly. And yet, typical of her peaceful way, it is said she and the earlier Mrs. Wade remained friends and actually visited each other in the years that followed.

A fine example of peacefullness with principles held intact.

Nancy Ward. "Beloved woman.”

A.L.M. December 3, 2002 [c662wd]

 
COMPASSION

Is genuine compassion to be found anywhere in this world today?

As I look about me I find the events now in progress bring about some sharp changes in attitudes concerning others. I examine my personal life and find I have less tolerance for view held and expressed by certain individuals and groups than I did in more settled times in my life. We are living in unusual times right now - all of us - not just the people of the United States – and usual attitudes become warped to meet urgent situations.

Obviously many of us feel differently about a great many things since September 11 of the past year. It is right that we should set out with a determination to bring about changes which would eliminate the evils we see in the acts of others which hurt us or our friends.

Compassion in whatever form it might manifest itself - benevolence, charity, clemency, commiseration, empathy, grace humaneness – still abound in much that we think and do, but we have to learn to look for such opportunities in different places.

Compassion might well be seen as not being a part of our war on Terrorism, for instance, but more of it is there than we might think. The agony of leadership in such times is a terrible burden to place upon one man and I think it wise that we tend to divide such responsibilities. In wartime some standards are, for the moment, set aside to assure they have a future.

Our thoughts turn, naturally, to religious and medical groups when we think of compassion. One views the recent development of more business-like, more efficient, forms of medical services with suspicion but I know of physicians who, regardless of the form of governing control under which they must work today, continue to show compassion and special consideration for those in their care. There are still doctors and nurses, as well as Technicians and pharmacists and others, who stand ready to “go the second mile” with their patients. I can testify to that in a very personal sense. I owe by very life today to a skilled surgeons, doctors, medical personnl of all levels and, yes, a helicopter crew all of whom did their job with special attention to my urgent need.

Compassion lives. It abides in the person of that surgeon and her capable team. The initial touch of her small hands, the soft encourage in her voice assured me I was in the presence of a compassionate, caring person. We see only small portions of the compassion expressed in so many personal ways by individuls. That is where compassion, commiseration and other such qualities are best nurtured and wherein the best grow. Within the composite view of groups and nations they will be less obvious. Charity may well be there, but it is subservient to demand of the present and preservation of the body politic. It, at its finest, is to be sought at the personal, individual level.

We can see only a small portion of the good that is being accomplished around the world. God's purpose, whatever it might be, is being worked out steadily and with unremitting zeal. Just because we cannot see it being done in terms we understand, does not mean it has been stopped.

A.L.M. November 30, 2002 [c558wds]

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03/20/2005 - 03/27/2005
03/27/2005 - 04/03/2005
04/03/2005 - 04/10/2005
04/10/2005 - 04/17/2005
04/17/2005 - 04/24/2005
04/24/2005 - 05/01/2005
05/01/2005 - 05/08/2005
05/08/2005 - 05/15/2005
05/15/2005 - 05/22/2005
05/22/2005 - 05/29/2005
05/29/2005 - 06/05/2005
06/05/2005 - 06/12/2005
06/12/2005 - 06/19/2005
06/19/2005 - 06/26/2005
06/26/2005 - 07/03/2005
07/03/2005 - 07/10/2005
07/10/2005 - 07/17/2005
07/17/2005 - 07/24/2005
07/24/2005 - 07/31/2005
07/31/2005 - 08/07/2005
08/07/2005 - 08/14/2005
08/14/2005 - 08/21/2005
08/21/2005 - 08/28/2005
08/28/2005 - 09/04/2005
09/04/2005 - 09/11/2005
09/11/2005 - 09/18/2005
09/18/2005 - 09/25/2005
09/25/2005 - 10/02/2005
10/02/2005 - 10/09/2005
10/09/2005 - 10/16/2005
10/16/2005 - 10/23/2005
10/23/2005 - 10/30/2005
10/30/2005 - 11/06/2005
11/06/2005 - 11/13/2005
11/13/2005 - 11/20/2005
11/20/2005 - 11/27/2005
11/27/2005 - 12/04/2005
12/04/2005 - 12/11/2005
12/11/2005 - 12/18/2005
12/18/2005 - 12/25/2005
12/25/2005 - 01/01/2006
01/01/2006 - 01/08/2006
01/08/2006 - 01/15/2006
01/15/2006 - 01/22/2006
01/22/2006 - 01/29/2006
01/29/2006 - 02/05/2006
02/05/2006 - 02/12/2006
02/12/2006 - 02/19/2006
02/19/2006 - 02/26/2006
02/26/2006 - 03/05/2006
03/05/2006 - 03/12/2006
03/12/2006 - 03/19/2006
03/19/2006 - 03/26/2006
03/26/2006 - 04/02/2006
04/02/2006 - 04/09/2006
04/09/2006 - 04/16/2006
04/16/2006 - 04/23/2006
04/23/2006 - 04/30/2006
04/30/2006 - 05/07/2006
05/07/2006 - 05/14/2006
05/14/2006 - 05/21/2006
05/21/2006 - 05/28/2006
05/28/2006 - 06/04/2006
06/04/2006 - 06/11/2006
06/11/2006 - 06/18/2006
06/18/2006 - 06/25/2006
06/25/2006 - 07/02/2006
07/02/2006 - 07/09/2006
07/09/2006 - 07/16/2006
07/16/2006 - 07/23/2006
07/23/2006 - 07/30/2006
07/30/2006 - 08/06/2006
08/06/2006 - 08/13/2006
08/13/2006 - 08/20/2006
08/20/2006 - 08/27/2006
08/27/2006 - 09/03/2006
09/03/2006 - 09/10/2006
09/10/2006 - 09/17/2006
09/17/2006 - 09/24/2006
09/24/2006 - 10/01/2006
10/01/2006 - 10/08/2006
10/08/2006 - 10/15/2006
10/15/2006 - 10/22/2006
10/22/2006 - 10/29/2006
10/29/2006 - 11/05/2006
11/05/2006 - 11/12/2006
11/12/2006 - 11/19/2006
11/19/2006 - 11/26/2006
11/26/2006 - 12/03/2006
12/03/2006 - 12/10/2006
12/10/2006 - 12/17/2006
12/17/2006 - 12/24/2006
12/24/2006 - 12/31/2006
12/31/2006 - 01/07/2007
01/07/2007 - 01/14/2007
01/14/2007 - 01/21/2007
01/21/2007 - 01/28/2007
01/28/2007 - 02/04/2007
02/04/2007 - 02/11/2007
02/11/2007 - 02/18/2007
02/18/2007 - 02/25/2007
03/25/2007 - 04/01/2007
04/01/2007 - 04/08/2007
08/05/2007 - 08/12/2007
08/26/2007 - 09/02/2007
11/18/2007 - 11/25/2007
12/09/2007 - 12/16/2007
12/21/2008 - 12/28/2008
01/04/2009 - 01/11/2009
07/26/2009 - 08/02/2009