Scanners

When I was a kid, a favorite uncle gave me a police scanner radio for my birthday.

I grew up in a small town, and that radio gave me an audio window into the goings on in a lot of the towns around ours, as well as our own spread.

Crimes, traffic stops, fire calls, ambulance calls, and even a couple of security company radio centers provided hours of interest and fascination.

When I first got it, I couldn’t savvy much of what was being transmitted.

There were too many channels, too much radio traffic, and a lot of static to deal with, not to mention some kind of funny 10-codes they used to relay information.

Some channels were different towns, some were police, some were fire, some were both, depending on how their radio systems were set up.

It was just one big stew of audio, with no clear messages for me to hear.

To me, that radio was plenty good for makin' noise, just not so good for making sound.

A few weeks later, my uncle asked me how I was liking the radio, and since I was too young to understand “political correctness”, I honestly told him I couldn’t understand what all those transmissions were saying.

Fortunately, he understood my frustration, and spent some time teaching me how to use the controls on the scanner.

He showed me how I could listen to a variety of channels, or focus only on one or two, depending on what information I was trying to get.

He showed me that the most important control on the radio was something called the “squelch”.

The squelch could be adjusted to control the sensitivity of the reception of the radio.

Set it too low, and everything, including static and noise, was heard.

Set it higher, and weaker messages got missed.

Set it too high, and only the loudest messages got through.

As a citizen, you are a scanner that serves a vital and valuable purpose: to keep your ownself  in tune with the messages from your government and the media.

How many channels or sources do you monitor?

How often do you monitor new ones?

Who or what serves as your “squelch”?

How high do you have that squelch level set?

Are you listening to all the noise, or are you focusing on the most critical messages?

Are you filtering out all but the loudest, most powerful messages, and missing important but weaker ones?

Are you listening to all the available channels, or only a pre-selected few?

Scanners work best and provide the most information when they are not set the same way all the time.

I know of no safe depository of the ultimate powers of the society but the people themselves; and if we think them not enlightened enough to exercise their control with a wholesome discretion, the remedy is not to take it from them but to inform their discretion. --- Thomas Jefferson

Code of the West

Live each day with courage.

Take pride in your work.

Always finish what you start.

Do what has to be done.

Be tough, but fair.

When you make a promise, keep it.

Ride for the brand.

Talk less and say more.

Remember that some things aren't for sale.

Know where to draw the line.


Nobody can acquire honor by doing what is wrong.  --- Thomas Jefferson

Cast Iron Pot

This time of year there’s a heap of cookin’ goin on around the ranch. Be needin’ lots of vittles to feed everybody comin’ from far and wide.

Near everywhere you look there’s cast iron pots heatin’ over the fire. Yep, we still use the old style, cast iron, heavyweight pots for our cookin’.

Lots of folks have moved on from cast iron, gravitatin’ to aluminum, stainless steel, or even that slippery stuff, Teflon. But there’s just somethin’ ‘bout the way food tastes from an old cast iron pot.

Maybe it’s ‘cause they ain’t easy to work with. Ya gotta take care of ‘em, maintain ‘em, season ‘em.

All the good ones start off with being seasoned. Heated real hot, then coated with lard or bacon fat (the real stuff, not that low cholesterol crap everybody uses nowadays!), then heated again for a long while.

Heatin’ it like that for a couple of hours tempers the metal, and gives a tough coating that resists the bad stuff.

And, it weeds out the inferior product. If it’s gonna crack, it’ll crack during the tempering, instead of when it’s bein’ used for somethin’ important.

Seasonin’ makes certain your fat don’t end up in the fire, dontcha know.

Properly seasoned, a cast iron pot has a non-stick surface that no modern substitute coating can match.

The best cast iron pots have been around for years, seasoned and re-seasoned by repeated exposure to the heat of the fire. They just seem to get tougher and tougher each time.

Well seasoned cast iron pots have a unique ability to retain and disburse heat. They even out the hot spots, keepin’ things from getting’ outta hand.

Yep, they’re heavy. But that’s ‘cause they have a decent amount of substance to them. Substance that keeps ‘em from bending any time the heat is applied. Substance that keeps ‘em solid even when they’ve been banged around a bit.

That kind of dependability and durability makes those old cast iron pots highly valued by people who know their stuff.

In this oldtimer’s view, we need more cast iron type people than all these Teflon-types tryin’ to run things into the ground.

By three methods we may learn wisdom: first, by reflection, which is noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third, by experience, which is the most bitter. --- Confusius

Thanksgiving

Ya know, it's dadblamed amazin'.

Not that gobble day is here already, but that there's some folks who only say thanks once a year.

Only a country with more of what you need than you can ever use could reduce its gratitude to a single day. Only when people are dead sure of havin' everything we need can there be an absence of appreciation for what we have.

Now I've ridden enough miles to know that not everyone enjoys the same level of material wealth. That the heels of some folks boots are worn down farther than some others.

But I do know that every American enjoys the important stuff.

Life.   Liberty.   The pursuit of happiness.

Freedom.

Elements so basic and fundamental to our existence as Americans that most folks rarely ponder them, or consider what it takes to keep 'em.

Hangin' my spurs in Las Vegas provides some interesting contrasts... it's what them city slickers call a "juxtaposition".

On the one hand, luxury and over-the-top plenty is as close as the nearest megaresort.

Massive buffets, fountains in the desert, replicas of cities far away. All available for one and all. Created with no expense spared for us to enjoy.

On the other hand, there's the constant scream of fighter jets coming or going from Nellis and Creech Air Force bases. America’s young airmen training and practicing the skills it takes to insure our ability to enjoy and pass on that plenty. Sparing no expense, including the ultimate sacrifice, to insure we continue to enjoy our freedoms.

Just contemplatin' those two different definitions of "sparing no expense" should make ya sit a little taller in the saddle.

In these times, it’s easy for folks to use Thanksgiving as a way to bulk up for that shopping marathon known as Black Friday.

Hopefully, family, friends, and loved ones will be around your campfire. And maybe one will offer a brief prayer of Thanksgiving before the chuck wagon gets demolished.

Some hands will pause, and give thanks for those who have served, or are serving, in our armed forces around the world. The ones who do what they must do so that we can do what we wish to do. They are living proof that God has clearly blessed America.

But somewhere between the beans and the pie, take a moment and give thanks for a group most have long forgotten.

Seventy four folks who created the opportunity we all enjoy today. Seventy four wranglers representing thirteen colonies at the first Constitutional Convention.

A ragtag bunch of commoners who, through the grace of God, created the most important document in the history of man.

The Constitution of the United States.

A contentious group of patriots who were able to come to fundamental agreement on what this country should be, and create a document that says how to keep it that way even centuries later.

A document that lays out specific, fundamental principles essential to a free citizenry. A document that clearly separates the United States from every other country on the planet.

 Created by patriots who risked much so that we may have much.

And this cowpoke thanks God they did.

We have enjoyed so much freedom for so long that we are perhaps in danger of forgetting how much blood it cost to establish the Bill of Rights. ~Felix Frankfurter

"There must be more to life than having everything." Maurice Sendak

Just Wanted You To Know

Just wanted to let you know.

Thought you should hear it direct from the horse’s mouth, so to speak (although there are some who insist it’s comin’ from the other end of the horse).

I’m a racist.

Now unlike most folks today, what get all uppity and politically correct and knot their knickers when someone calls them that, I’m actually pretty damned proud of it.

I wasn’t always a racist.

Seems I became one about the time Obama started running for office.

I was a lot of things ‘fore racist.

Once, I was just an American that watched and evaluated what was happening in his country, and when I disagreed with it, said so.

Back then, some called people like me the “loyal opposition”.

When Jimmy Carter, a white peanut rancher from Georgia, gave away the Panama Canal, I thought it was stupid, and said so.

He was a Dem and a Lib, and I’m not. So, I was “the opposing party”.

When Bill Clinton tried to convince us all that something that even kids know is sex wasn’t, I said he was stupid.

Since I said so, I was now part of the “vast right wing conspiracy”.

When George bush the elder said “Read my lips” and then raised taxes anyway, I said he was stupid, and became a “disaffected Republican”.

But tellingly, I weren’t called racist for saying these white men were stupid.

Neither were any of my colored friends (hey, it’s called the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People…. I didn’t name it) who thought and said the same things.

But like I said, I watch and evaluate what goes on in my country. Regardless of who’s holding the reins.

When Obama became a candidate for President, after serving only a little more than two years in the US Senate (elected November 2, 2004, declared as a presidential candidate February 10, 2007), I said it was stupid, because he didn’t have any significant experience at a national level, and because he hadn’t been a Senator long enough to have a voting history.

Hell, he didn’t even have any dust on his hat or scuffs on his boots.

When, during the campaign, Obama’s pastor, Jeremiah Wright, was exposed as a lunatic, I said Obama’s explanation of being unaware of Wright’s statements was stupid.

After his election, I called many of his appointments, actions, policies and initiatives stupid. And, as time goes on, it becomes apparent that maybe this oldtimer knew what he was talking about.

But in Obama’s case, unlike with Carter, Clinton, Bush, or anyone before, I’m no longer the “loyal opposition”, or a “disaffected Republican”, or even a member of the “vast right wing conspiracy”.

Nope. I’m a racist.

Hell, up to now, I never thought stupid was a race, even though there’s a bunch of people tryin’ to finish in first place, if ya know what I mean.

I thought race was based on somebody’s ethnicity. On the color of their hide.

Not what was in their head. Or what they did.

I thought those were called character or integrity or some other old time thing.

But obviously, I was guilty of some wrong thinkin’. ‘Cause now I got a whole bunch of folks tellin’ me I’m racist.

Black folks.

White folks.

A whole passel of folks sayin’ that I can’t disagree with Obama without it bein’ ‘cause of the color of his skin.

That he should get a pass on his stupid words, stupid acts, and stupid policies. That I either shouldn’t notice, or shouldn’t speak out.

According to these folks, the only reason Obama’s doing stupid things and saying stupid things, and following stupid paths, is because he’s not white.

I guess they’re sayin’ he’s stupid ‘cause he’s black.

Which I guess means that all colored people are stupid.

That, I reckon means that it’s not about character or ideas or principles, but about the color of someone’s skin.

Which, up to now, I always thought was the definition of racism.

Again, more wrong thinkin’, I reckon.

But since I’m now a racist, I figure it’s probably somethin’ I should try to do well. Do it the best I can.

It’s the cowboy way.

So I’m gonna give ya some words on other stuff as well.

As a racist, I’m thinkin’ that anybody that’s one of them “hyphenated Americans” is stupid. I don’t much care whether it’s Irish-American, Afro-American, Latin-American, or Left Handed-American.

You’re here? You’re living in this country? You’re an American.

And if you’re not here legally, you’re not an American or an “undocumented worker”. You’re an illegal. You’re breaking the law, and that makes you a criminal. So cowboy up and if you want to be a hyphenated American, be honest and call yourself a “criminal-American” or an “illegal-American”.

If you’re an American, and have been for more than a month, then you don’t get to have your special rules. You play by the same rules as every other American.

You don’t get to have a “National Association for the Advancement of Colored People”. I don’t get to have a “National Association for the Advancement of White People”. Try becoming truly integrated and working for the advancement of all Americans.

You don’t get to have a “United Negro College Fund”. I don’t get to have a “United White College Fund”. “A mind is a terrible thing to waste” no matter what color the packaging is.

You don’t get to have a “Black Congressional Caucus”. A “White Congressional Caucus” wouldn’t be tolerated. Play by the same rules as all Americans.

If you want to be here, be an American. Learn the language. Become part of the culture.

Our country’s great strength has always been the melding of cultures of our population. Bringing the strengths of each individual into our country, into our society.

Becoming integrated based on ability and effort, not segregated by skin color or place of birth.

Great Americans like Martin Luther King and Abraham Lincoln risked much to give you the opportunity to become fully integrated.

Stop trying to reverse their efforts through self-imposed segregation, regardless of your country of origin or ethnic heritage.

Stupid ideas and stupid actions are not the exclusive property of any race. They’re stupid because they’re stupid, not because the person sayin’ them is white, black, or purple.

But what do I know? I’m a racist.

Just thought you should know.

Some Americans need hyphens in their names, because only part of them has come over; but when the whole man has come over, heart and thought and all, the hyphen drops of its own weight out of his name. --- Woodrow Wilson.

We Need A Hero

I grew up in a time of reading books, listening to radio, and at some point watching television.

In a time when America was in the midst of a boisterous economic celebration of a World War II victory, and an ongoing flow of ordinary men who had done heroic things was reintegrating into the fabric of this country’s society.

We could fix, build, or invent anything. If it worked, it was ours.

As a child, I watched these people, and read about or listened to their fictional counterparts like the Lone Ranger, Dick Tracy, and others.

The fictional heroes and the real heroes shared some common characteristics. Honor. Loyalty. Bravery. Dependability. Judgment. Modesty.

As my childhood friends became equally enamored with these heroes, we all tried to emulate those characteristics.

Finding someone to play the villain was always many times harder than finding someone to be the hero.

Our parents used this aspiration to generally help keep us in line. In yesterday’s version of today’s “What would Jesus do?”, we were frequently asked if Roy or Gene or Hoppy would be proud of our behavior. Bringing disgrace on a hero can be a strong motivator to shape up.

But as we grew older things changed, as they always do. Electronic media, anxious for an instant story, gave up objective journalism for sensationalism, and reported untoward things about our heroes. Some deserved, some simply blatantly unfounded character assassination.

Wiggle room was now a factor when the question about Roy, Gene, and Hoppy was asked. It wasn’t such a great motivator any more.

Some also learned that occasionally, you didn’t really need to be a hero, as much as to be brave enough to claim to be one. One of the kids in my neighborhood was given a special day for discovering a house fire and getting everyone out of the house. He was a major town celebrity, until the local fire chief and police chief pulled him out of school one day and charged him with arson.

But at that point, heroes were still letting other people award them the title based on their actions.

At some point, some wannabe hero got impatient. Uncertain. Concerned.

Worried that if somehow he was able to actually do something heroic, people might not notice.

The motivation for being a hero went from doing the right thing to getting the right credit.

And getting the credit right.

In a single generation, we’ve moved from ordinary men, doing extraordinary things, because it was the right thing to do …… to less than ordinary men claiming to be doing (or going to do) marginally ordinary things, because it creates celebrity and media attention.

From modest honor to media whores.

From a President that refused to accept sole credit for the demise of the Soviet Union and the fall of the Berlin Wall …… to a President who is already claiming credit for the success of a stimulus program where only 10% of the stimulus has been spent, and who is already claiming that only he has the wisdom, talent, and ordination to determine who gets what kinds of healthcare.

It appears the line between having character and being one isn’t quite as narrow as has been presumed.

In my 40’s, I had the pleasure of meeting Doane Hoag, a name unfamiliar to most all but the hardest core Lone Ranger Fans. To them, Doane was legendary.

His name appeared on every Lone Ranger radio script, and most of the subsequent television scripts. He was the head writer for the Lone Ranger show.

I asked him what made the Lone Ranger special, why he was such an enduring hero.

He said that the Lone Ranger was consistent with heroes throughout time: he approached everything with common sense and a steadfast sense of values.

Common sense and a steadfast sense of values. Two things typically lacking in the media whore culture of the celebrity driven population.

But the same two things that most Americans still use to deal with their personal, everyday issues.

Even the media whores revert to common sense and a steadfast sense of values when it has major impact for them personally. When the pain threshold gets high enough. Or the risk becomes too great.

If that weren’t true, why wouldn’t Congress jump into the same health insurance program they are trying to force us into?

If that weren’t true, why wouldn’t they send their kids to public schools?

If that weren’t true, why would they be adding government employees when businesses small and large are facing difficult times?

I submit it’s the same reason the kid in school let his fire rescue go all the way to a town celebration. Self preservation.

He knew, and they know, that once their false heroism is uncovered, they will be shunned worse than a rustler caught breaking the cowboy code.

I sincerely hope that Roy, Gene and Hoppy are still watching over us.

That we are still actively blessed by the leadership imparted to us by Benjamin, Thomas, Ronald, and Newt.

Please God, send us a hero.

We’re well into the third reel, and the heroine is tied to the tracks.

The townsfolk are gathering a lynch mob.

The rest of us are praying that our hero is just keeping his powder dry, observing from a high ridge, with a fiery horse.

Hi Ho Silver!

Aspire rather to be a hero than merely appear one. -- Baltasar Gracian