THE INTERSTATES – LOSING OUT ON AMERICANA

The interstate system – championed by President Dwight D. Eisenhower and the automobile manufacturers – was created by the Federal-Aid Highway Act of 1956.   The system today consists of 46,876 miles of multi-lane highways criscrossing our country.  Fort Wayne has Interstate 69 bypassing it on the west and the north edges, and the fairly new 469 Bypass on the south and the east sides.

I have traveled throughout a good part of this country by vehicle – 40 of 50 states – most of it by interstate highways.  I like to travel by myself because it gives me time to think.  It gives me time to look and gawk as I travel – no obligatory conversation or small talk.  And, it gives me time to sing to my CDs.

In my travels I have gone through almost every major city in the United States, either skirting around on a bypass or heading through the heart of the city.  A couple of weeks ago, I drove to Sebring, Florida, to the home of my oldest son and daughter-in-law.  Besides the fact that I am getting too old for 2300-mile round-trip journeys, I find myself getting more annoyed at the Interstate system.

I remember reading quite some time ago during the debate over Harrison Square that at one time a public referendum was held as to whether or not an interstate should go through Fort Wayne – similar to the likes of Dayton, Ohio (or many other cities for that matter).

I have to tell you, after this latest trip, I am extrememly glad that an interstate did not make its way through Fort Wayne.  I took the route through Ohio beginning with U.S. 33 and picking up Interstate 75 at Sydney, Ohio.  Then south to Cincy and across the mighty Ohio river and on to Lexington and Knoxville, through the gentle hills with the roads cut through the stratified hillsides.

I stopped in Marietta, Georgia, for my free Choice Rewards night (nice – a free hotel room).

The next morning I girded myself for my battle with Atlanta.  See, I have this absolute anxiety issue with Atlanta.  I have been through it and around it numerous times in my travels, and I guess it must have been a bad experience way back when – which I can’t even remember now – that has made my life a living nightmare when I approach Atlanta.

I don’t have a GPS and won’t get one (see my post on how technology is dumbing us down).  I use a good old-fashioned map and internet maps – hmm, okay – I guess I do cheat some.  I decided to cut right through Atlanta and take my chances.  I am not sure whether Atlanta has straightened up or I have mellowed, but I actually slid threw very easily – 6 to 8 lanes of traffic and all.

I had it made from that point on – with one small exception.  Once I got to a certain point in Florida, I took Highway 27 out of Ocala and made my way to Sebring.  Highway 27 is a four-lane highway and is becoming built up to the point of maximization and to the point where traffic creeps slowly along.  As I drove, I had to wonder how much more the State of Florida could handle in population and construction growth.

I had a wonderful visit in Sebring and watched an amazing sunset over Lake Jackson, which I captured on my cell phone to bring home with me – a little bit of Florida at my fingertips.  I also went to Lake Istokpoga, which is the fifth largest lake in Florida.   While my love is rivers, any time I am around water, I am happy as a clam.  I decided to bypass Atlanta on my way home with the notion that I would take Interstate 65 into southern Indiana and visit the restored West Baden Springs Hotel.

Lake Istokpoga

I also had planned on my trip homeward to try to see some manatees in the Tampa – St. Pete area.  Unfortunately, they had moved out to the gulf coastal areas since the waters had become warmer.  I had been privileged to see manatees years earlier when I lived in Florida for a short period of time.  If you ever are able to see them, I hope you will understand my awe and wonder.  I will just have to wait until it gets colder and then try to see them in the power plant inlets where the warm water is discharged and they huddle during the winter months.

Tampa Bay

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As I headed toward Tallahassee and into southern Georgia, I ran into some major early evening storms.  Traveling alone has its pluses, but it also is scary to confront volatile weather conditions.  I contemplated pulling off the highway as the rain pummeled my windshield, and I was held to a creep of  about 15 miles per hour.  Semis were still passing me, which made me even more nervous.

I kept anxiously watching the sky to my west for a clearing – I know the south is known for its quick storms and tempestuous weather conditions, especially in the summer months.  The sky finally cleared, and I headed northwest toward Alabama.  I wasn’t sure how far I would get, but I was determined to at least make it into Alabama.

As dusk started falling, I debated on whether to drive as far as I could until dark or to stop while it was light.  As I said, I am getting older and traveling wears me out, so the stopping earlier won out.  I pulled in at a Quality Inn in Ozark, Alabama, and checked in.  The heat was unbearable as I unloaded my things from my truck, but the room was air-conditioned, and I soon cooled off.

The next morning I took off heading northwest toward Montgomery and Birmingham.  As I drove northward, I wondered where and how to find the Birmingham jail that housed Martin Luther King, Jr. and gave rise to his famous “Letter from a Birmingham Jail”.   I have books in my library about slavery and the struggle for civil rights – one book is titled “Selma, Lord, Selma”, and I saw the signs to Selma on my way northward.   Even driving the interstate which was in its infancy during the struggle for civil rights gave me chills.

I thought about how those who believed in equality were killed for that very notion – how they struggled against the centuries of injustice of deciding the worth of a person based on skin color.  The highways must have been a sight to see – thousands of marchers, shoulder to shoulder, standing and marching for the true meaning of  the phrase put forth in our Declaration of Independence that  “all men are created equal and endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights.”

As I traveled into Tennessee and then Kentucky, I knew I was running behind and would not get to West Baden Springs to see the historical hotel which had the country’s largest free-spanning dome until 1963.

West Baden Springs Hotel - photo credit West Baden Springs

The interstates do not allow the luxury of finding these historic treasures – they are meant to shoot the traveler quickly by on the road to the next stop.  I take them, and in doing so, I miss the backroads and the history of our country unless  I make a concerted effort to locate a site of historical note.

So, as I approached Allen County and Fort Wayne, I found myself grateful that the interstate did not come through Fort Wayne.  Interstates do not bring people to a city; they take people past a city.  Interstates are meant to provide ease of travel and a fleeting glimpse of the cities they traverse and bypass.

No thank you.  I will take the quiet and the peace of downtown Fort Wayne any day to the flurry of the interstates.  It may take us longer to bring back the inner core, but when we do, it will be because we want it, and we will not be bypassed.

THE FALLACY OF REUSABLE TOTES

The concept of the reusable tote is good in theory; however, in reality, reusable totes are no better than the plastic bags they are meant to replace.  And, here is why.  Check out the labels to see where the totes are made.  I have been taking stock of these totes lately, and they are made in China.

My first inkling that this was the case was when I began looking at all those free totes I receive as gifts to recognize my generosity when I donate.   I donate to a number of groups such as World Wildlife Fund, Earthjustice, and Defenders of Wildlife.  One of the perks that is generally given when one donates is a tote or some type of item that may be fairly inexpensive.   In order to give these items, the cost must be negligible.

I guess it didn’t dawn on me to check the tags for quite some time, but when I did, I found that all these free gifts were made in China.  So I got to thinking that if these items were made in China, where are all those nice looking totes made that are being touted by the mega stores as an alternative to the plastic bags?

So, as I was waiting in line at the West State Scott’s a few night’s ago, I looked at the tags.  The totes are made in China.  One might ask – so what?  Here is the dichotomy:  the totes are to replace plastic bags which are hazardous to the environment.  Yet, by requesting hundreds of thousands of the totes made in China, the corporations are contributing to the destruction of the environment – just in another part of the world.

So, while everyone here who buys one of these totes feels great about helping our environment, the production of these totes is destructive to the environment in another part of the world.  Chinese workers make .44 cents on the hour and the air and water are horribly polluted.

I guess the choice to buy one of those totes doesn’t carry with it a guarantee of environmental friendliness to the developing nations of the world.  So the next time you are tempted to purchase one of the Chinese-made totes to replace the plastic sacks – stop and think about just whose environment is being saved and whose environment is being destroyed.

Misnamed "Echo Friendly" tote - made in China

DEVELOPING NATIONS WANT THEIR TURN TO TRASH THE ENVIRONMENT

The G-8, meeting this week in Italy, ran into a spot of trouble when the developing nations of the world – primarily China and India – and the already-industrialized nations failed to reach an agreement on specific cuts in heat-trapping gases by 2050, undercutting an effort to build a global consensus to fight climate change.

In what is an “it’s our turn now” attitude, China and India failed to agree on specific targets to cut global greenhouse gas emissions by 50 percent by mid-century, and emissions from the most advanced economies by 80 percent.  The developing countries’ stubborness may be understandable given that they have only just begun to figure out how to exploit their environments to get the most from their resources.

Pollution in China

Since exploitation of the developing countries is occurring from outside forces – ah, namely global corporations – how about tamping down the ability of those multinationals to do business in the developing countries.

I find the solution pretty simple.  If the multinationals and U.S. corporations want to do business in these newly developing nations, then tax them for the destruction they are aiding and abetting. The U.S. mega-giants know exactly what they are doing – or they wouldn’t have shipped their factories and jobs overseas.

Perhaps in addition to corproate social responsibility in the United States, it is time to enforce global responsibility.  After all, if corporations want all the profit from exploiting developing nations and their workforces, they should also shoulder the burden of what havoc they are wreaking.

PALIN WALKS OUT ON ALASKA

In a move that surprised almost everyone – save perhaps her family – Sarah Palin announced that she wanted to save Alaska from the horrible prospect of a  “lame-duck” governor.   Perhaps Palin does not understand the term lame duck.  Lame ducks are those politicians who are at the end of a last term either due to term limits (governors and presidents) or to an election defeat by the opposition.  A lame duck is on his or her way out of office.

Indiana’s governor, Mitch Daniels, qualifies as a lame duck since he cannot run again in 2012.  Representatives and Senators who are defeated in November elections are lame ducks until they leave office in January.  But that doesn’t mean authentic lame ducks stop working on behalf of their constituents.  Palin is no lame duck – unless you consider her own decision not to run as making her a forced lame duck.  But she took care of that by announcing that she would exit the governor’s office 16 months ahead of schedule.

As to her excuse of how she has been treated by the media – come on – it’s politics.  She put herself in the public spotlight with her acceptance of the vice presidential slot last year.  Perhaps she doesn’t quite remember the years and years of trashing and battering Hillary Clinton has taken at the hands of the conservative press and Republican talking heads.  Yet, Hillary is still standing.

Palin’s press conference is worthy of watching just to listen to the excuses she has contrived for her flight from office.  Her rambling, disjointed performance leaves one shaking the head and wondering just what she is hiding.  The statement runs on and on for a little over 7 painful minutes as Palin flits from one subject to another with little or no coherence among the topics.

And, one final thought on Palin’s use of the point guard analogy – she likened her position to that of a point guard who knows when to pass the ball.  Got news for you, Sarah, point guards may know when to pass the ball, but they don’t pass it and then walk off the court.  You are no point guard, Sarah Palin.

RAISED BED GARDENING

I have gardened now for about 40 years – typically the old-fashioned way plowing up ground and planting directly into the soil.  This year, I am trying something different – raised bed gardening.  My back yard in West Central is pretty small, but one of my friends and her husband have a huge backyard.

So, with my gardening experience and their backyard, we decided to plant a garden.  We debated for a while about whether to plow up the yard or to try using raised beds, which are popular because they are easy to care for.  We finally decided on the raised beds.

The initial expense is more than the traditional method of simply plowing up a space and planting vegetables and plants.  We purchased lengths of pine, cut them to length, painted them with weather-resistant paint, put them together, and anchored the completed boxes in the ground in a nice, sunny location.

But that wasn’t the end of it.  We then had dirt brought in – 4 cubic yards – and had to fill the four boxes.  We planted a variety of items:  onions, lettuce, cabbage, spinach, cucumbers, tomatoes, corn, squash, and beans.  So far we have had plenty of lettuce, but with the summer heat, the lettuce is about done.  Everything is growing at an amazing pace.

I have to say that I really like the raised beds – they are much easier to tend than a plowed garden.  I had gardened the old-fashioned way all my life and for many years had a 5-horsepower tiller. It was a great tiller, but it was big and hard to maneuver.   But when my boys were little, I gardened to can and freeze our food, and I needed a huge space.

The raised beds are more compact and are suitable for smaller yields.  The only downside I can see is the initial cost and work to put the “boxes” together and fill them with dirt.  Once done, though, the boxes will last for many years.

While we are hoping to have enough surplus to put some up for the winter, the yield isn’t meant to be the same as a traditional, large garden.  But, boy, I sure am looking forward to the rest of the garden-fresh vegetables, in particular, the tomatoes.  Nothing like a fresh tomato!

Raised bed with corn, cucumbers, and squash (our largest bed at 8' by 8')

Rasied bed with lettuce (almost done), onions, and cabbage

Raised bed with pole beans and bush beans

Raised bed with my favorite - tomatoes

We are so thrilled with our first effort that we are already looking ahead to expanding our project for next year.  More beds, more healthy, home-grown veggies.  Could anything be better?

PHARMACEUTICAL BEHEMOTHS BIG WINNERS WITH “MOTHERS ACT ”

For those out there who dislike government – whether at a minimal level or an all out invasion – you should really ramp up on this Act.  Of course, before I write about this, let me make this disclaimer: some will find this Act entirely appropriate – after all it is aimed at diagnosing mental illness and protecting the innocent life of the newborn.

Again, let me provide just a smidgen of my background.  My mother suffered from paranoid schizophrenia – as far as could be accurately diagnosed back in the mid ’40s.   She was treated by using insulin shock therapy or, medically, Insulin Coma Therapy (ICT).  ICT is similar to electro shock therapy.  In addition to the ICT, she was also kept on several medications – and, to be honest, I couldn’t begin to tell you what they were.

When we – my brother and I – were very little, mom spent six months in the Richmond mental institution.  We spent the better part of our growing up years and our adult years in the shadow of mental illness.

I learned to know when Mom was going “downhill” – for lack of a better word.  She would start closing all the curtains to darken the house.  We would come home from school to a dim world of light.  I knew when the curtains slammed shut that it wouldn’t be long before Mom went to the hospital again.  She would be gone for a couple of weeks and then come home – seemingly better.  But there wasn’t much in those days that could be done, so her life was a cycle of hospitalization, good days, and then a slow descent into darkness.

The illness culminated in her failed attempt at suicide by overdose when I was 12 and my brother was 10 1/2.  I will never forget the medics putting her onto a stretcher, my brother and I crying, and my Dad telling us to say goodbye because we were never going to see her again.  But she did come home, and she appeared to gain a semblance of control over her mental illness.  She still suffered episodes of darkness and hospitalization, but she never tried to commit suicide again.

I understand that mental illness is serious – I grew up with it.  But the “Mothers Act” – as Congress has decided to label it – is pure patriarchal nonsense and a home run for the pharmaceutical companies.  Typically pharmaceutical companies have given overwhelmingly to Republicans to protect their interests.  But with the 2006 election cycle, pharmaceutical giants figured out where their bread would be buttered and began to bribe donate heavily to Democratic candidates.

In the latest coup for the big druggies, the House of Representatives passed the Mothers Act on March 30, 2009.  The vote – 391 yeas, 8 nays, and 32 nonvoters – is astounding in that with little fanfare or publicity, the House has now sent to the Senate for a vote, legislation that is totally unnecessary and fraught with the potential for abuse.  All nine of Indiana’s representatives voted in favor of the bill.

The following is a primary section:

SEC. 101. EXPANSION AND INTENSIFICATION OF ACTIVITIES.

(a) Continuation of Activities- The Secretary is encouraged to continue activities on postpartum conditions.

(b) Programs for Postpartum Conditions- In carrying out subsection (a), the Secretary is encouraged to continue research to expand the understanding of the causes of, and treatments for, postpartum conditions. Activities under such subsection shall include conducting and supporting the following:

(1) Basic research concerning the etiology and causes of the conditions.

(2) Epidemiological studies to address the frequency and natural history of the conditions and the differences among racial and ethnic groups with respect to the conditions.

(3) The development of improved screening and diagnostic techniques.

(4) Clinical research for the development and evaluation of new treatments.

(5) Information and education programs for health care professionals and the public, which may include a coordinated national campaign to increase the awareness and knowledge of postpartum conditions. Activities under such a national campaign may–

(A) include public service announcements through television, radio, and other means; and

(B) focus on–

(i) raising awareness about screening;

(ii) educating new mothers and their families about postpartum conditions to promote earlier diagnosis and treatment; and

(iii) ensuring that such education includes complete information concerning postpartum conditions, including its symptoms, methods of coping with the illness, and treatment resources.

Of course the Act is the result of the coverage and exploitation of the 2001 death of Melanie Blocker-Stokes, who jumped to her death shortly after her daughter’s birth, allegedly suffering from postpartum depression.  In several different sessions of Congress, the same bill that just passed was introduced and failed.

However this session – with enough lobbying and donations from the medical industry and pharmaceutical companies – the Act passed its first hurdle.   Now it goes to the Senate.  If the Senate passes it, President Obama will have the opportunity to sign it or reject it.

The Act is ludicrous.  Postpartum depression is real – but only about 1 or 2 per 1000 women suffer from it.  Even those 1 or 2 do not ultimately lead to the death of the mother or the death of the child.  What the Act will do is to increase screening and medicating of pregnant mothers.   The problem is that the screening is relevant after the woman becomes pregnant.

That means that – assuming some type of mental instability is detected – the pregnant mother will be put on a prescription medication.  Today, it is common procedure to instruct women in the dangers of smoking and drinking during pregnancy yet the Act would lead to prescribing powerful and dangerous prescription drugs to the pregnant mother.

Chalk another victory up for the pharmaceutical companies and a loss for mothers, in general.

THE COMING COTTON CRISIS

“WHEN ONE TUGS AT A SINGLE THING IN NATURE, HE FINDS IT ATTACHED TO THE REST OF THE WORLD”

John Muir had it right. Everything is connected – despite corporate powers that would have you think differently.  Everything we do and every step we take impacts some other fragment of our world. We are tied together in a string that is never ending.

I get up early – 5:00 a.m. – even on weekends.  On Saturday morning, two of my favorite programs are the U.S Farm Report at 6:00 a.m. and This Week in Agribusiness at 7:00.  Why? Here is a little background before I get to the importance of cotton and crops and connections.

My great-grandfather was a farmer.  But that was back in the days of hand-gathering of eggs, hand-milking of cows, the storing of milk in spring houses, wood burning stoves, rising at 3:00 a.m., breakfasts that were feasts, and the good old out house.

Grandpa Brewer – I am German on both sides of my family – would take me out to the old hen house to gather eggs.  I was so little, and I remember walking into the old rickety hen house with him – all confident that I would be able to do this.  It smelled acrid – ammonia – and there were all these clucking, ugly looking hens.  He would tell me to just slide my hand under the hen and pull the egg out.  I would try, but the hen would peck me, and I would jerk my hand out and wimper,  from both fear and disappointment.

I will never forget, Grandpa always said to me, “Girlie – he always called me “girlie” – you just have to do it this way – they won’t hurt you.”  And then, he would slide his weathered, brown hand under the chicken and pull out an egg.  The chicken didn’t even make a sound or try to peck him.  I never could figure it out.

And, man, I hated that out house.  I would almost subject myself to a burst bladder before I would get  up in the dead of night and troop out there to that old-fashioned “port-a-potty.”  I was scared to death – it was a dark woods – at night – with noises.

But I loved my sleeping quarters – no air conditioning in those days.  I would climb up the old wood stairs to the second floor, and I would climb into a bed covered with a down-filled comforter.  And, I would sink and sink.  The down-filled comforters would swallow me up.  To this day, I have never felt such a comforting feeling of security and lightness and softness.

And I loved the spring house.  It was a dark, cool place with a small rippling, bubbling slice of cold crick running through it.  I barely remember its contents but the wooden shelves were lined with jars of canned goods and the milk was sunk deep into the little path of water that ran through it.  My great-grandfather didn’t believe in becoming “modern”  although he finally caved and got indoor plumbing and refrigeration.  But he never gave up on his old wood cook stove.  To the day he died at 93, he cooked with that huge, black, cast-iron giant that lived in his kitchen.

He milked his one cow, he slopped his hogs, he gathered his eggs, he raised his vegetables, he hooked up his one horse to his sleigh to gather wood.  We would go out in the winter and gather wood and load it onto the sleigh, and his faithful horse would haul us all back to the house. We were cold; we were tired; but we were elated that we had come home with wood for the cook stove and the old fireplace.

And the breakfasts, unbelieveable.  We had a table that groaned with food – sausage and gravy and biscuits, eggs, pancakes, sausage, potatoes, sorghum molasses, home churned butter, and so many other things.  That is where I began my love affair with sorghum molasses.  It isn’t molasses; it is molasses cut with sugar syrup.

There is nothing better than home made biscuits – hot from the wood burning stove – and sorghum molasses mixed with butter spread on the hot biscuits – melting into the flaky biscuit.

During the depression, my Grandfather and Grandmother lived with him.  My Grandpa on my mother’s side was a Baptist minister but times were hard, and they needed the farm to survive.  Farming kept many alive through the Depression.  Good, simple, and hardworking people.

Now, to the connection between cotton and farming and the attachment to the rest of the world.  The south has been known for cotton production.  But cotton is no longer king of the Mississippi delta.  The southern states are starting to look like the Midwest.

Photo Credit:  Wikipedia

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The Agriculture Department estimates that 8.8 million acres of cotton will be planted in the United States this year, down 7 percent from 2008 and 42 percent from 2006.  It will be the lowest cotton acreage since 1983, an anomalous year when farmers cut acreage after a string of bountiful harvests that created a surplus.  Nowhere has the slump been greater than in Mississippi, where farmers decreased their cotton planting to 365,000 acres in 2008, from 1.2 million acres in 2006.

The decrease in cotton production is due to the increasing demand for corn needed for ethanol production.  So the southern states are converting cotton producing acreage to corn producing acreage.  And, fewer acres of cotton means an ever-increasing reliance on foreign producers of textile products and continued loss of American jobs to outsourcing.

Cotton, once king in the south,is now fast becoming a secondary citizen.  And, just like John Muir said,”WHEN ONE TUGS AT A SINGLE THING IN NATURE, HE FINDS IT ATTACHED TO THE REST OF THE WORLD.”

We tug at alternative fuel production and we impact the value of crops related to ethanol production, which, in turn, makes it more valuable to plant corn instead of cotton, which, in turn, simply decreases cotton production for clothing, which, in turn, increases reliance on foreign textile products – more goods from foreign countries – more outsourcing of American jobs.

We are connected, and everything we do is connected to something else.

“THE ARC OF THE MORAL UNIVERSE IS LONG, BUT IT BENDS TOWARD JUSTICE”

President Obama responded to the Iranian crisis by aptly quoting Martin Luther King:

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

The universe will always bend toward justice – it may be a long trek and it will inevitably cost millions of lives, it will result in brutal, vicious, and unspeakable crimes against humanity, and it will wreak destruction and havoc on nations and it will show no mercy in its struggle to survive, but it will, sooner or later, survive, and it will bend toward justice. I fervently pray for Iran that it is sooner.

I am cautiously and optimistically watching the events in Iran.  I remember the days of the American ally, the Shah of Iran, who was deposed in 1979 in the Islamic Revolution – a revolution which thrust Iran back into the hard line policies of the Ayatollahs and the denigration and subjugation of women.

My sons were not old enough to really be interested in this event.  But I well remember seeing the Shah of Iran – right or wrong – an American ally, propped up by American interests – being deposed and sent into exile.  In those days, Iran was our “friend”, our “ally.”

The Islamic Revolution of 1979 was quick, and it surprised the West and its allies.  Just as this current uprising has been quick and has surprised the world with its ferocity and its tenacity.  Mir Hossein Mousavi – leader of the movement – is ready for martyrdom, and he understands that his life may be offered up as testimony to his beliefs.  He knows, just as Benizir Bhutto knew, just as Burmese activist Aung San Suu Ky knows, that there are causes that are just and right and are worth the ultimate sacrifice.

Am I espousing ethnocentricity at this point?  Yes, I am.  I believe that people should be free, but it should be of their own choice and making – such as is occurring now in Iran.  I believe that according to the Declaration of Independence “that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”  That the word “men” now includes all genders and all races and all ethnicities.

Sooner or later, the people will rise against tyranny that is in place.   Sooner or later it truly is “power to the people.”  Sooner or later, the people arise and throw off the yoke of tyranny.

I remember the taking of 52 Americans for 444 days beginning on November 4, 1979, and ending seconds after Ronald Reagan assumed the presidency on January 20, 1981.  President Carter’s ill-fated attempt to rescue the hostages prevented him from a second term.  Who can doubt that if his rescue attempt had been successful, he would have won a second term?

Am I also espousing the rights and dignities of women?  Yes, I am.  The world should not support and encourage the second-class citizenship of women.  Women are not property – women are human beings and deserve to be treated with the same respect and dignity that are accorded to men.

So I anxiously await the outcome because I know at the very root of all justice is the ability of the people to rise up and claim what is rightfully theirs – equality, justice, and freedom.

SIGN, SIGN, EVERYWHERE A SIGN – AHH, MY FAVORITE SIGN

I love traveling, but lately, I haven’t traveled the way I used to travel.  I have been to 40 of the 50 states with virtually all of my travels on my own, playing the radio or the CD player, and talking to myself – yes, I talk to myself – does that really surprise anyone? Oh, and, by the way, I answer myself, too.

I can’t imagine traveling with anyone.  I like not having to answer to another person.  I can stop when I want, eat when I want, and do what I want.  I can drift off the beaten path and wander if I want.  While the interstates certainly make travel fast and easy, they also make one miss so many quaint and beautiful sights.

Last week I took a trip to Cincinnati to attend a corporate meeting – not far – about a three and a half hour drive.  I got up at 4:00 a.m. on Wednesday morning, and packed a few things.  Not  many, though, because I was only going to be gone over night, staying at my son and daughter-in-law’s on the way home to see them and my grand kids.

My route of travel was to take 33 south out of Fort Wayne, through Decatur and into Ohio, pick up Ohio State Road 29 outside St. Marys, Ohio, and then hop onto Interstate 75 at Sydney, Ohio.

As I left my home in the early morning hours, I thought what a wonderful feeling it is to take off in the early morning hours, the balmy summer air stirring slightly with a gentle touch against the face, pulling into the gas station for a cup of freshly-brewed morning coffee, and then on the road with the sun just hinting with its rosy glowing beams of light that it was anxiously awaiting the proper moment to show its rising face in the eastern sky.

I always allow myself about 30 minutes of  “get lost” time, and it was a good thing I did.  No problem getting to Cincinnati, but I am not very familiar with downtown Cincinnati itself.  I had prepared my route beforehand, and, as I deftly wove my way through the inner parts of Cincinnati following my Google map, I thought I had it made.  The last direction was to turn on Eden Park Drive – and the instructions showed that it was totally close to my exit from Reading Road.

And, it was – and, I missed it.  If you have ever missed a turnoff on these highway mazes, you will understand the panic I felt at that point.  It was 9:30 a.m., and my meeting started at 10:00 a.m. – hence my relief that I had my “get lost” time.  As I was forced up onto another clover leaf, I started thinking of options.  I drove down a street and stopped a pedestrian to see if she knew where to go.  No – she didn’t.

I knew that if I could just find Interstate 71, I would probably – I say probably because I had no clue – be okay.  I managed to locate the exit I wanted, but as I missed that turnoff also, I saw that it was on my right and lower down.  So, unless I wanted to drive over the side of a freeway and nosedive down about 30 feet, I wasn’t going to get onto it.  I quickly doubled back and found the right exit.  I pulled into the parking lot just on time and made it to my meeting.

On my way back, I stayed all night with my daughter-in-law and my four grand kids.  My son was on the road, so I missed seeing him.  He travels extensively in his job, and he is a wonderful provider, but I know it has to be hard on him to be gone so much.

I had such a wonderful time.  My daughter-in-law is a great cook and mother.    They have a home in the country – a huge old brick home that has been restored, lying in the gentle rolling hills of southern Ohio.   The windows are open at night with the air wafting through – something I miss here in the city.

I found out how naive and dangerous leaving my windows open at night could be – three years ago this August, I surprised a burgler coming through my screen in my dining room, and, he, ever the macho character he surely was, reacted to my screaming and carrying on by fleeing – thank God because he had cut the screen with a knife.  I certainly would have been no match for a burgler with a knife.

My windows haven’t been open at night since, and I now have an alarm system.  So, so sad!  I miss that trust of people that I used to have.

As I slept at their home that night, I was anxious; I worried that someone would come through the open screen windows.   The fear of that happening will never leave me no matter how much time will pass and where I am – I am still scared.   But, of course, I worried for no reason – nothing happened; I awoke in the morning with all still asleep in the early morning quiet and the air peaceful and warm.  I left quietly without waking anyone.

As I traveled home, I thought about what a great trip I had.  I enjoyed my business meeting, but, more than that, I enjoyed seeing my family and spending a few hours with them.

As is the case with every trip I have taken, I couldn’t wait to see the Indiana state line.  That sign, that wonderful sign, is what makes coming home so special to me.  It is what makes my travels so special to me.   My favorite sign through all my travels is this one below.  I stopped at the Ohio-Indiana state line to take this picture – one that I had always kept putting off taking.

No matter where I roam, this will be my favorite sign.

And, this is will forever be my favorite song.

MY SHOPPING TRIP TO CHINA … AND HONDURAS … AND THAILAND … AND PAKISTAN

This past week I had to do some clothes shopping – something I really hate to do.  I had an event to attend on Saturday night, so I thought I would buy something new to wear since I don’t have a lot of fancy clothes.  I was also out of my favorite perfume “Angel” which I usually buy at Macy’s.  Perfume is one of the few items I will fork over full price to buy.  But even then, I look for boxed sets which will usually include additional items for a special price.  But, I digress.

I hate going to Glenbrook Mall, but Macy’s and my perfume are there, so I started at Macy’s.  The clothes section is before the perfume section, so I started browsing through dresses, skirts, and other assorted apparel.  Of course, as I always do, I looked at the tags to see where the products were made.   My peering at the tags took me through a journey to far off places that I will probably never get to see – China, Thailand, Honduras, Mexico, Vietnam, Pakistan, India, and on and on.

I did not find one – not one – clothing item made in the U.S.A.  But what is even more appalling is that many of these dresses, skirts, and apparel items were still marked up at ridiculous prices – $140 – $200 – and they were from countries that pay a meager .44 cents an hour to workers.  Talk about a profit margin.

Photo Credit:  Google Images

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I simply got madder and madder.  I went to the perfume section, bought my once-yearly perfume supply, and left – thinking maybe a stroll through J.C. Penney’s would be better.  I couldn’t have been more wrong.  Again, all the clothing items were made in foreign countries.  A new J.C. Penney product line – erroneously named “American Living” – is made in China.  I ended up buying some jewelry and a new hat to go with an old outfit – all items made in China.

On my way back home, I stopped at Walgreens to pick up some make up items – all made in other countries with the exception of a lone Cover Girl product.  It was actually made in the United States.

People, look around.  Take time to pick up items and look at the tags and labels.  The corporate box stores have become nothing more than retail outlets for foreign nations.

The corporations have shipped job after job overseas for the sake of pure greed.  So when raving capitalists start shuddering at protectionism and start bullying the public with threats that protectionism will lead to jobs leaving this country, I have to laugh.

Go to Lowes, Home Depot, and all the other stores.  The shelves are lined with products from almost every country other than the United States.  The corporate powers-that-be have certainly done a snow job on the American consumer.  By threatening to take jobs overseas if protectionism rears its head, the corporations manipulate and instill fear into us.

But, sad to say, it really is too late for the American worker.  Taking a trip overseas is as simple as visiting your local big-name retailers.   Foreign workers are exploited for pennies, foreign environments are decimated to produce cheap products, and corporations get richer and richer – all at the expense of the American worker.  Our nation has become one big giant retail outlet for the rest of the world, and corporations are laughing all the way to the bank.