Some “professional critics” are doubtless chagrined by J. K. Rowling saying in a recent interview: “How we react to death, how much we fear it. In many ways, all of my characters are defined by their attitude to death.”

It is good Rowling said this for the record because critics are often those without an original thought or the talent to do the things they criticize. Ray Bradbury was quite rightly incensed by the supposed literary critics telling him what he really meant in “Fahrenheit 451” as though they were better qualified to tell him what he really meant. And how many people will use a remark when addressing someone seeming not to realize they are telling the other person what that person “really” thinks and believes, or worse, what they should think or believe.

How many a great writer and artist must turn over in their graves if they knew how some critics and university professors are telling others what these great writers and artists “really meant.” At least Bradbury and Rowling are alive to set them straight about what they meant. Most others are not so fortunate.

While I greatly appreciate the genius of Rowling and the enormous contribution she has made in stirring the imagination of so many children, encouraging the rightful domain of magic and fantasy belonging to children I would never have presumed to tell her what she really meant in her stories. I am just grateful she is speaking out about what she really meant rather than leaving this to the critics.

Life and death are the two greatest mysteries confronting humankind. Science cannot define either of these apart from “something” animates the clay, and that same something departs at death. Perhaps Oscar the Cat could explain it, but “meow” doesn’t translate into human speech. However, Rowling’s comment concerning an “attitude to death” certainly speaks directly to the issue, and it is not an issue we can avoid since we will all die; and in many ways our lives are defined by our attitude to death. It would be trite to reply it’s our attitude to life that really counts, since life is not permanent. Death is. And it will be our attitude to death that defines our attitude to life. For some it is “eat, drink, and be merry,” for others it may take the form of asceticism or religious beliefs. But it is an attitude to death that predominates even among those that practice the Golden Rule, the belief that to live well toward others is to die well.

A lady friend and I got into a conversation yesterday when the subject of the USS Indianapolis came up. She had just seen the Discovery Channel episode of this tragedy and was deeply moved by it. But the really striking thing to me had always been the fact that if the ship had been sunk on its way to Tinnian Island that atomic bomb would not have been delivered. The loss of hundreds of lives compared to the many thousands that were to die as a result of that bomb, who can make sense of such seeming contradictions to any “value” of life? I’m left wondering, who is keeping score?

Henry Thoreau commented on the profligacy of life, that Nature would spread thousands of seeds knowing the most would die but some few would survive to carry on. But it’s a most uncomfortable thought that God may be so profligate of human life in the same manner. “Not a sparrow falls to the ground” comforts my mind, but Nature red in tooth and claw, the wars of men, the untold millions that seem to be born to no other purpose but suffering and dying give me pause to wonder.

I have real confidence in the beginning chapters of Genesis; that behind the fables are the facts that gave birth to the stories. But the only conclusion so far to my mind is we can’t expect God to intervene in the things that are our responsibility, whether it is the safety and welfare of children, the care of our planet, the wars of men or whatever. And it is our attitude to death that defines us and will determine how we live our lives in respect to those things that are, after all, human responsibility.

As I’ve said many times, I want more on TV news about rescuing baby ducks, more scenes of people interacting and being kind to animals. But at the same time I admit to the oddity of such a thing is the fact more people seem to respond to the kindness shown animals than to children. Now why is that? I have my opinion, including my thoughts there are monsters among us in human guise preying on women and children, but it is grounded in philosophical speculation and theological theory and I have written books about this. Normal people with a normal kindly disposition toward animals are appalled and outraged by a football player fighting dogs, but let’s see at least the same degree of outrage toward the monsters preying on children.

Suffice it to say the scenes of baby ducks being rescued and restored to momma duck catches more viewer attention than stories about children. The Aflac Duck, for example, was a stroke of advertising genius; and many prefer commercials that have interaction between people and animals. But even as I write of this, there is no denying the attraction of evil that sells more newspapers than rescuing baby ducks or being kind to children.

While some politicians profess to believe in God, their actions seem most often to give the lie to any professions of faith. But I suppose the MSM thinks it is a subject the present crop of WH contenders needs to be grilled about; not that anyone expects an honest answer to the question, it just seems like the thing to do for those in the media. However, when it comes to Hollywood the most honesty is reflected by those in the business admitting more of them believe in the Devil than in God. If you ask whether they believe in God the answers are generally “Yes, No,” or the agnostic position of “I don’t know if there is a God, there may or may not be.” But when you ask about the Devil, the answer is generally in the affirmative. The cynical may respond this is only reasonable since most of Hollywood, as with politicians, appears to be sold out to the Devil.

My position has been that unlike politicians and tyrants, good people do not want power and authority over others; good people do not seek fame and fortune for the sake of narcissism. On this basis, it does seem the Devil makes the better offer to many people that have looked about the world and the mess and decided it is, after all, more sensible to believe in the Devil than in God.

Whatever one’s opinion about the matter, no one can legitimately deny the wicked seem to prosper while honesty seems to be for chumps; and perhaps the MSM fixation on celebrity makes its own contribution to this. Who really gets more press, the Dudley Doright’s or the sinners? As Walt Kelly pointed out, there is nothing plain about sin, it is fancy. And people are far more interested in the things that sell papers, which are fancy sin, destruction, the macabre, not the boy and girl scouts. Hollywood certainly understands this, as did Tom Lehrer when it comes to “Smut.”

In my opinion, honest people are quick to admit of the various temptations surrounding, but unlike the dishonest and hypocrites do not easily give in to temptation; they choose to resist, and in doing so try to fulfill what the Bible distinguishes between the children of God and the children of the Devil. And given the record of evil and abuse it is admittedly far easier to believe in a Devil that delights in rewarding the wicked, delights in the torture and murder of children than a benevolent deity intervening on their behalf.

Like any discussion of the supernatural it is all in the area of speculation. It is when people make claims based only on beliefs we find trouble. Bush claims God was on his side in going to war, but I’m far more inclined to believing the Devil made him do it. But I continue to believe good people will do good and bad people will do bad; that the Golden Rule separates between the two. And good or bad their works, not their words, declare the truth.

For example, I want the present crop of presidential contenders to answer real questions about the welfare of children, not lip-service. Questions about the war, about healthcare, all questions should be subservient to the question of what is to be done for the children of America and their future. And I mean the children of America first! Not those of other nations! Just as America cannot be trusted to do what is right for other nations if it does not do what is right here first, neither can an America be trusted that professes a concern for children in other parts of the world while children in America suffer! And a socialist America, an open borders America, a “Press one for English” America cannot do what is best for our own children.

But no amount of optimism can discount the fact, as proven throughout history, the wicked prosper. How would politicians and despots survive otherwise? And whatever the beliefs, few would disagree America is now in such a firm grasp of wickedness on the part of our leadership I don’t see any light at the end of the tunnel.

It may be God has his “elect,” and perhaps this makes him deaf to the cries of tortured and murdered children. There may be guardian angels, but they seem highly selective about who they guard. Still, I believe only because it seems easier for me to believe than not. I want to believe because I find comfort in believing. Nevertheless, the legitimate questions remain. And I believe honest people struggle with these questions.

Now that Oscar the Cat has been making national news for his uncanny ability to sense death, some calling Oscar “Grim Kitty,” though staff at that hospice in Rhode Island are quick to point out he comforts those near the end, I have been keeping a closer eye on the resident pussycat here at my place. My friend Mike Turner and I have long suspected this cat of being a furry extraterrestrial, and people who know cats don’t totally discount the idea of their being aliens, and the many cultures throughout the ages according supernatural status to cats is well known.

Dogs and cats especially often seem to sense the moods of their human companions to quite an extraordinary degree, and the stories are legion concerning this. The ability of animals in many instances to sense and respond to many things of which humans are not capable continue to prove fascinating, and at times an exciting area of scientific research. In view of much of this research it is difficult to determine just how much of human intelligence might be ascribed to animals, and in many cases we are rightly uneasy thinking the animals we raise and slaughter for food might be sentient beings having more than just the lowest level of perception, but capable of some human-like conscious, cognitive thoughts, or like dolphins and some others even self-awareness.

Many of you know the jokes about trying to stare down a cat, like the strip showing Jon attempting to do this with Garfield. For cat cognizanti you may have tried this yourself, but whether you have or not dogs and cats show marked intelligence in their eyes; and oftentimes uncomfortably so. Cartoonists have long been able to ascribe human characteristics to animals. Where would Disney have been otherwise, and what would Charles Schultz have been without Snoopy?

For those of us who care about our pets we like to believe they understand us, that they understand our moods and respond more like friends than simply animals. The problem is that vast chasm between warm and fuzzy, and nature red in tooth and claw. You simply do not make “friends” of sharks, bears, lions, and tigers, and anyone that thinks otherwise and wants one of these as a “pet” has to be short of brain cells notwithstanding all the warm and fuzzy anecdotes.

Certainly animals of all types can be trained to do things out of character for them. In an age past C. H. Spurgeon compared women preachers with a dog that had been trained to walk upright on its hind legs. He said it was not surprising the dog did it badly; but why would it do so at all? Wait a moment ladies; note I said this comment by Spurgeon was “in an age past.” Well, to hear some preachers today maybe not so far past.

Observers of animals in their natural environments soon realize that as with human beings not all are equal, and not all are predictable. In the meantime, perhaps those of us fond of our pussycats just might want to show them a little more respect. Who knows but what Mike Turner and I might be on to something?

How much better off David Crisp would have been to have heeded my advice, bought the Padre Hotel and turned it into a world class “gentlemen’s club,” you know, a cathouse rivaling anything in Las Vegas or San Francisco. At the time I was writing about this I’m sure David was aware of this rare opportunity to put Bakersfield on the map. Alas, he was not farsighted enough to understand the merit of my suggestion, and just look at the trouble he is in now. As it turned out, David had enough brains to scam people out of relatively paltry sums of money working his small-minded version of a Ponzi scheme, but not enough brains to be a true visionary. And so, I’ve written Donald Trump to see if he might be interested.

There is one thing that may turn Trump off to my suggestion concerning the Padre Hotel; the mention of Bakersfield. I know he thinks location, location, location. And I have no illusions about what images are conjured up in people’s minds at the name Bakersfield. After all, despite my Ph. D. I’ve encountered a few problems with people associating my birthplace of Weedpatch with Al Capp’s Dogpatch; both euphonic, lyrical names that pleasingly roll off the tongue, but Bakersfield? The Bakersfield Californian did a really bang-up job exposing Crisp, but where is the paper touting my own vision for the Padre, my vision for what this could do for Bakersfield? Strangely silent. But what reasonable person could fail to see how such a thing would put real meaning in the motto “Life as it should be.”

However, when I wrote an article questioning whether marijuana is now Kern County’s real cash crop few dared respond to that. But as the noose tightens around the quasi-legal dispensaries statewide we have to wonder where the money trail leads for a failed and phony “war on drugs?” But you know, I have written about this for so many years now it just doesn’t seem to be worth the effort any longer. If I’m going to tilt at windmills, I would like to leave a Quixotic legacy of my vision for making my hometown of Bakersfield the envy of merely pretentious people that roll their eyes over any mention of Btown by my continuing to suggest to the city fathers that turning the Padre into a world class pleasure palace is the right thing to do.

I deign to say if a poll were taken most people would agree politicians are whores. But in my opinion this is demeaning and degrading to “working girls,” since there is really no honest comparison. Politicians treat elected office as a license to steal; they enjoy the drugs and prostitutes they treat as perks coming with election all the while denying such things to We the People. We even see celebrities facing charges that politicians routinely escape.

There is no denying the hypocrisy of the whole thing. Neither is there any motive but money in denying We the People the same perks like drugs and prostitutes politicians demand as though they were the only truly privileged class in America. But then, I remind myself that one of the benefits of old age and having no empire to protect is being able to speak my mind. No one has to listen. But now honestly; what real argument can be made against my suggestion for the Padre? At the very least, considering the recent firestorm over Councilman Couch, wouldn’t it be fun to bring the matter up before the city fathers?

For those at least mildly interested in my proposal for the Padre, here is a brief recap of a few things I wrote to justify my position:

January 21, 2007

A kindly word for the “working girl”

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

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

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

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

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

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

January 22, 2007

Why not a “gentlemen’s club” in Bakersfield?

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

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

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

Many of us had imaginary friends when we were children, and many of us had a favorite doll or stuffed animal as in “Calvin and Hobbes,” some of us had several, with whom we would carry on conversations. Some of us would talk to a favorite pet, and many carry this into adulthood. The old maid talks to her pet cat, and so do the old fellows like me. In my case, I have found the resident cat to be without conversational skill; nevertheless I still speak to it, and when I look at her and ask “Feed the cat?” I do get a positive response, a soft “meow.” However, that’s as far as any dialogue with the cat goes.

Few of us have the good fortune of a “Harvey” as a companion, and most of us quite reasonably have our doubts about those adults claiming to have the benefits of an invisible companion. And while there are innumerable claims for “manifestations” of ghosts, I have yet to see one. I have a real ambivalence about this, not being quite certain I really want or do not want to be the beneficiary such a manifestation. While I believe I live with ghosts, I haven’t any idea if this is true, or, for that matter, just what form my departed loved ones and friends have taken since their departure.

The realities of life are difficult to deal with, and at times some of us need our invisible friends. It is a reality that counterfeiting is such a problem many businesses will not accept one-hundred dollar bills in order to lessen the loss. Document fraud and identity theft are real and ugly, growing realities. I think I can be forgiven for times when I believe the cat understands these things better than those in our government.

So I consider the ghosts of my loved ones and friends to be understanding of me. It is my belief they know me thoroughly in a way not possible to our loved ones and friends still inhabiting mortal bodies. And oftentimes I have been prevented from doing something wrong not because I fear God may be there waiting to punish me either now or later at some assize, but because I have loved ones I do not want to hurt. In most ways, I suppose this a better rule for moral behavior than any system of religion.

Existentially Emerson might have been correct, but perhaps the world is only a stage and all of us only players upon that stage? Perhaps nothing is real except my own mind, this fire of life in a mortal body that transcribes everything and everyone I see from phantasmagoria to my perception of reality? This much I believe; for too many life is a living hell on earth, a seeming lunatic asylum with the chief lunatics running the asylum, an asylum where evil seems to predominate and there is room for believing the “Monsters of the Id” are more than the stuff of SciFi, and only occasionally do the better angels of humankind prevail.

I am not going to judge those who believe “The play’s the thing.” But I do wonder what is it that compels some to strive to play a role of fantasy? Do they live such fantasies in their own minds? Psychologists and psychiatrists, our contemporary witch doctors and shamans, expend enormous amounts of time “explaining” the attraction of stage and film to so many wishing to play a role. And it is not always out of the desire for fame and fortune, not even the desire for attention but sometimes the need is to simply escape from reality.

It is quite normal for children to engage in fantasies just as the children in “To Kill A Mockingbird” made up a game about Boo Radley, acting out parts of the story they had invented about this neighborhood boogeyman. But as the Apostle Paul pointed out, when he was a child he thought, acted and spoke as a child, but when he became a man he put away childish things. And I suppose most of understand the difference between childishness and being a child. Paul did not intend a discourse on the fantasies of children carried into the realm of adulthood and was fully knowledgeable of the Greek and Roman stage given to much more than fantasies, and none would disagree the world would be impoverished without Shakespeare; and few would want to give up the marvelous fantasies of Hollywood like the great musicals. But in looking at last year’s crop of Oscar nominees it seemed Hollywood has painted itself into a corner, and having been raised on the great films of time past I cannot but feel a certain sad melancholy about the low estate to which this great American institution has fallen.

Children like Scout, Jem, and Dill enjoy the “theater” they invent for themselves, they enjoy a lively imagination in which all things are possible, things of fairy tales and magic come to life. The world would be a dreary place without the laughter and imagination of children giving life to the fairy tales and magic properly the domain of childhood. Still, as Paul pointed out there is a difference between those things the proper domain of childhood and childishness. We want children to be children, we want adults to be adults. Where Hollywood has departed from being a great American institution is in becoming “childish.” In too many ways what Hollywood has engaged in is throwing childish tantrums, demanding attention be given the demands of the spoiled brat, the kind of child no one wants around them.

The result of this spoiled brat and its tantrums is people staying away from theaters in droves. There is no more “Here’s lookin’ at you kid,” no more “bright, golden haze on the meadow,” but a self-absorbed, spoiled brat demanding attention be given its childish version of “reality.” And it seems the MSM is fixated on a very shallow celebrity rather than hard news. It is almost as though the realities have become so monumentally bad the MSM simply cannot cope with them.

This reminds me of the book of Job in the Old Testament, which is thought by some to be the most ancient text in the OT, dealing with issues from the most distant past of human history. It is from this ancient story we have the thought Jesus emphasized that Satan holds dominion over the kingdoms of the world, but that his rule is doomed in the end to failure. This is cold comfort to those like abused, tortured and murdered children, to the innocent suffering from the wars of men. But there is little from Hollywood about this story of Job, except in passing. And I doubt there will be a musical version of the story.

What drew Americans to the Silver Screen in time past, what made Hollywood successful was largely the desire to escape the ugly realities of life. As an art form, Hollywood used to give us that kind of escape from ugly realties. We had the great books delving into the dark side of humankind, but it didn’t take Hollywood long to explore this as well. But the advantage of a book is being able to lay it aside and come back to it in our own time. And while Hollywood has produced acclaimed “masterpieces” delving into the dark side, it is those great films in which virtue prevails, in which there is great beauty and hope lifting people up from their often lives of quiet desperation, too often lives lived with ugly realities from which the Silver Screen granted some respite and surcease of sorrows that made Hollywood an American institution, and I miss that Hollywood.

Whatever the “reality,” I believe the ghosts of my loved ones and friends gone on before me understand. I believe their “angels” know my thoughts, I believe we have spiritual communion though I neither see nor hear them. I find comfort in believing this, and while far from original thinking, but quite the contrary, my most fervent hope is to rejoin these loved ones and friends when I pass away. I can only hope in the words of Scripture that if this happens “all tears will be wiped away.”

People have every right to envy those of us able to live here in the Kern River Valley. Clean air and water, no pollution or heavy traffic, all the amenities close at hand. Surrounded by beautiful mountains, the Kern River flowing from up north into Isabella Lake where the fishing is terrific, and beautiful, pristine trout streams like Bull Run Creek nearby. Adding to the attraction is the lack of graffiti and no gang warfare over drug turf.

But recalling the area before the lake went in when the Kern River flowed unrestricted through the valley, when Isabella had a population of about 35 and Kernville 115, when the whole of the Sequoia National Forest was my personal area to explore, hunt, and fish hardly ever seeing another person was living a life as a boy that now seems a fairy tale. At that, despite the small population at the time there were enough characters out of Peyton Place and those like the “mad scientist” of Isabella to make social life interesting, and the local gossip was more therapeutic than malicious, akin to the communal washdays and quilting parties I recall from my childhood in Little Oklahoma, southeast Bakersfield.

However, there is a looming disaster here in “Paradise.” In the beautiful Sequoia National Forest portion of Kern County the marijuana plantations are threatening the peace and quiet of this part of the world. Recently: “About 11 remote growing areas were found during an aerial search of public lands in the Sequoia National Forest; in fact the entire operation had to be by helicopter. In a 2 day mission The Major Violators Unit of the Kern County Sheriff’s Department hauled more than $100,000,000 worth and almost 45,000 pounds of marijuana out of the Kern County mountains. The operation was so large, the Sheriff was assisted by Bakersfield Police, Bureau of Land Management, US Forestry and a Department of Justice task force called CAMP, the Campaign Against Marijuana Planting. Neil Cuthbert is with the California Department of Justice and part of the CAMP task force, he says they make every effort to closely integrate the marijuana eradication with their investigations. He says the job can also be very dangerous, from 1994 he says there has been at least one shooting a year during a marijuana raid.”

While there can be no doubt the Mexican drug cartels are behind this foreign invasion and assault on our national forest, neither is there any doubt such a thing could not possibly be done without the cooperation of our own state and federal government, despite the claims of some in government agencies. For years I have advocated for the legalization of marijuana, and the continued opposition to this from state and federal government means there are too many politicians bought from the profits of keeping it illegal. It comes down to the comparison between organized crime and our government operating from the same motive of profits. Invariably you will find “cooperation” between the two when it suits their profit motive, as in the government giving amnesty to drug smugglers for their testimony against border patrol agents attempting to do their jobs. This is no different than the tyranny of Bush treating the Oval Office as his throne from which he issues edicts designed to protect the rich and powerful.

But political correctness denies We the People a voice. To even mention illegal aliens are a problem is to be denounced by a few with screaming voices attempting to drown out reason with shouts of “Racist!” This is nothing less than sinister. When you find the same people damning Bush while supporting illegal aliens you know there is something sinister at the basis of this.

The fact that a relatively minuscule number of illegal aliens finds so many of the rich and powerful supporting them has to have some sinister motive, much in the way of counterfeiting. Just the other day, a friend sent me an article he had written on economics in which he used a quote from me back in 1960: “If you planned to print up a batch of counterfeit money, you wouldn’t print triangular bills on orange paper with a picture of Bob Hope on the front.”

While I had said this in regard to the various sects and cults masquerading as being “Christian,” he went on at length using the quote to elaborate on his theme of economic philosophy. But I was surprised that I recalled what I had said in 1960 as though it were only a short time ago; a seeming characteristic of advanced years.

Those supporting this illegal invasion from Mexico are only counterfeits of real Americans. But the very same people so quick to denounce Bush and his administration while supporting illegal aliens seem not to notice their hypocrisy. Illegal aliens have never had more support from any president in our history. And for those damning Bush while at the same time supporting the illegal invasion of America by Mexico at taxpayer expense is to say the least extraordinary, if not hypocritical. But they remain counterfeit Americans, to paraphrase Theodore Roosevelt, not the real thing. And as Jesus pointed out, Satan is not divided against himself else his house would fall. But not a few dupes seem complicit in Bush’s (the Devil’s?) tyrannical work, attempting to deny Americans have any rights as citizens of a sovereign nation to our heritage, culture, language, and secure borders. In the meantime, the phony “war on drugs” will continue while politicians and their corporate masters reap the profits, here in Kern County and elsewhere.

Now for those of you who continue to want to explore the glory and grandeur of our national forest here in Kern County, the pristine trout streams and other wonders our county has to offer be sure you go well-armed. It is no longer the bears and mountain lions you must be prepared for, but the marijuana “farmers.” And I will continue to enjoy the rare privilege of living where the water and air are clean, where there is no graffiti, drive-bys or gang warfare over drug turf. Don’t you folks in the “big city” wish you could have it so good? Don’t you wonder why you can’t?

When it comes to odd couples, the relationship between Benjamin Franklin and George Whitefield immediately comes to mind. In Franklin we find the preeminent pragmatist, and in Whitefield the preeminent religionist. Despite the seeming contradiction, Franklin did recognize the need for the social function of religion in society. But he would not be brought under the sway of any religious system of belief. However, Franklin and Whitefield were great friends and when the evangelist wrote Franklin of an impending visit, Franklin responded offering the hospitality of his own home to Whitefield. The evangelist in turn wrote Franklin a warm letter of thanks and acceptance “in the name of Jesus.” Franklin immediately replied that his offer of hospitality was not in the name of Jesus, but in the name of friendship.

During my years of theological studies and preaching, this story about Franklin and Whitefield would sometimes come to mind as I would reflect on Franklin’s refusal to accommodate his friend’s attempt to obligate Franklin in the name of Jesus. But to give due credit to Franklin for his wisdom one must also give him credit for making the distinction between what is done in the name of religion, and what is done simply out of a good heart. It is a distinction many of those holding firm religious beliefs are too often either unable or unwilling to make.

It isn’t a system whether religious or political that determines if a person is good or bad; it is as the ancient Egyptians and others concluded the “weighing of the heart” that determines this. Willy Wonka’s machine determined whether the egg was good or bad, and calling someone a good or bad egg though antiquated does express the truth of the matter. So no matter what the beliefs, is the person’s heart right or not, are they a good or bad egg is what really counts. Oh, well, we all know this don’t we. So what’s the point?

If a relationship is only a matter of shared beliefs rather than one of the heart it is doomed, and will undoubtedly be betrayed. While we think of Judas betraying Jesus for money, eventually it was his heart that condemned him so that he went out and hanged himself because he had betrayed the innocent. Some see this as an act of repentance, of contrition and expiation in which Judas found redemption, but only at the price of his own life; blood for blood.

But do even the good eggs, those with a good heart need reminding of what is right and what is wrong? I think so. I have a large sign in front of my place declaring in large capital letters: IT SHOULDN’T HURT TO BE A CHILD! Does any good person need reminding of such a thing? Yes. Several good people have taken the trouble to stop by and thank me for this reminder, sharing with me such a reminder has caused them to stop and think before lashing out in anger at one of their children. It was while discussing this with an elderly friend, an agnostic Jew who had lived through Hitler’s Germany I asked her whether it might have helped for the good people at the time to have signs in their windows “It shouldn’t hurt to be a Jew,” if this might have made a difference? She thought for a moment then answered, “By the time it might have helped it was too late. Besides, apart from the professions Jews stayed pretty much to themselves. We have often made ourselves targets of prejudice by refusing to assimilate, and this made its own contribution to the disaster of Hitler.”

It’s a story as old as human history, “When in Rome...,” but one that continues to be as true today as it ever was; and no amount of touted “cultural diversity” well lessen the truth of the matter. A pinch of this and a dash of that might lend flavor, but no one will eat a dish consisting only of mixed spices, each making its own demands for attention from the palate. The best chefs know what dishes require what spices, but will never allow the spices to overcome the meal. Like too much salt, when the spices become more than enhancing the dish is ruined notwithstanding the distinction Jesus made.

Where is the “meal” in “Press one for English,” ballots printed in foreign tongues, welfare for illegal aliens and their burden to schools, law enforcement, jails, prisons, unsecured borders inviting terrorism? We the People are being force-fed Spanish as though this were a spice, something the proponents of slave labor and open borders tout as a flavor enhancing ingredient rather than something that is ruining the whole dish. The English language has more than enough variety to enhance any “meal” without need of condiments, though the occasional foreign word or phrase may not be out of place. Don’t let the pretenders to knowledge in any way denigrate English unless they are equally willing and qualified to denounce Shakespeare as an unabashed “plagiarist.”

The lunacy of the situation is allowing the proponents of this illegal invasion from Mexico acting as though every illegal alien that makes it into America has the same rights and privileges as We the People! Let these lunatics go to Mexico and make the same demands there as illegal aliens before hypocritically pretending to be “preachers of righteousness.” This is not a question of whether the invaders, which by definition they are in fact, are good or bad people. It is a question of whether any nation can continue to follow the path our leaders are taking America and survive as a sovereign nation. Logic dictates these same people agitating for illegal aliens and Spanish would declare me a “bad egg” if I was a Mexican living in that nation and demanding foreigners wanting to live there learn Spanish.

It is wrong for our leaders to ignore the great majority of Americans for the sake of slave labor and profits. But unlike good people who only require a reminder once in a while, our leaders are determined to ignore all reminders of what is right and what is wrong. However, this is all a moot point since our leadership cannot even track legal visa holders, has no idea of where millions of foreigners are legal and illegal, and it would seem only that terrorist nuclear bomb going off at LAX or in DC will prompt the required action by our government. Even now as I write we are being told that was a steam pipe explosion in NYC. But was it? Well, whatever the truth, unlike the Warren and 9/11 Commissions there will be no hiding a terrorist nuclear explosion.

Should that bomb go off my continued fear is that like Hitler’s Germany the pendulum will swing far, far to the other extreme. And in that case, no amount of Constitutional “adjustments” will save the millions that overnight will become hunted and rounded up in America. And unlike religion which is a matter of beliefs, it will be America’s survival as a nation that will determine the action taken, there will be no questions about the rights of individuals, no habeas corpus, no asking for translators and interpreters, the only question will be one of survival. There is too much truth to Thoreau’s observation the civilized man is only a more knowledgeable savage.

In 1957 Walt Kelly gave his opinion of writing for TV. Albert reads something Bear has written and tells him “Stuff like that on the TEEVY will make you a million.” To which Bear replies, “NO! NO! I can always rob graves.”

Walt’s low opinion of writing for TV was shared by many of us who read books and were of the radio generation. In fact, many of the comic books and strips of the 30s and 40s evidenced a literacy and command of the English language long since forgotten. These days, it seems children are seldom told to “look it up” referring to a dictionary. In fact, where is the vocabulary being used now that challenges anyone to “look it up.”

Whether in literature or journalism classes, writing to a target audience of readers is a necessity. The concept is to communicate, not obfuscate. But over the past few decades the standards have been lowered so abysmally it would appear the “target audience” is considered very nearly illiterate whether in the print or electronic media, confirming the criticism and concerns of those like Walt Kelly, Ray Bradbury, and Harper Lee.

Those with a few decades of experience reading newspapers have noted the decline in writing ability and vocabulary. Even a friend of many years that used to write book reviews for the Wall Street Journal finally quit in disgust. It wasn’t that his own standards of literacy were so high; it was the standards for the WSJ were being increasingly lowered. Knowing this to be true, my question became where the bottom of such a thing was to be found? Of this we were both knowledgeable from the early 60s: Proper writing was no longer being taught in the universities and their product schools of America.

Adding to the woes of an increasingly illiterate America is the escalating poor quality of reporting the news in both print and electronic media. But at least the print media has this going for it; there is no mind-numbing noise accompanying too many news channels that seem to be vying with Hollywood productions in which it is assumed that without such noise rivaling rock stars that would sterilize frogs and salamanders at a far distance they can’t get the attention of viewers.

Then, there is the matter of America being held captive to political correctness resulting in a dumbing down of the truth in the print media as effectively as any amount of noxious, even injurious noise to be found on TV. And in some cases, Jack Nicholson’s “You can’t handle the truth” has its place. I used to have a friend at the L.A. Times that did not seem able to handle the truth concerning his church.

As the magnitude of perversion in the Roman Church in Los Angeles continues to unfold, I’m reminded of the friendly relationship and correspondence I used to enjoy with a prominent L.A. Times columnist until I brought up the subject of priests molesting children. At the time the problem was getting a lot of press due to exposing this back east, but I cautioned this man that in all probability it would be discovered his own Cardinal Mahony would also be exposed in due course. Having been so deeply involved with the research into cases of molested children for years, and knowing the Roman Church so well personally by experience I knew the L.A. Archdiocese had to be harboring a large number of molesting priests.

From the L.A. Times: Parishioners across the sprawling Los Angeles Archdiocese responded with relief, support and a measure of worry Sunday to news that the church will pay $660 million to victims of clergy sexual abuse, the largest payout to date in the nationwide Roman Catholic molestation crisis. But some also angrily blamed Cardinal Roger M. Mahony for failing to reach a settlement in the local cases years earlier... “I’m furious,” said Robert Sotelo, a retired West Covina electrician, after hearing Mahony celebrate Mass at the downtown Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels. “Why did he take so long?” But Bigay also said he believed the church and its leadership had been at fault for years in attempting to hide the growing abuse problem by quietly moving troubled priests from one parish to another. “I hope they learned their lesson,” he said. “Now we know that it’s out in the open.”

I’m not naïve to the fact there is no way the L.A. Times will demand the ouster of the pervert-enabling and pervert-shielding Mahony. “Why did he take so long?” The problem of pervert priests in the Roman Church molesting children has a history of centuries, and it isn’t as though it were some recently discovered phenomenon. That the various popes of the church including the present one have not taken the needed action against this pernicious and most heinous of acts against children that has been a persistent and growing problem throughout the world speaks volumes about the attitude of the Roman Church concerning such a thing. I found myself asking time and again; where are the excommunications of such monsters preying on children? They were conspicuous by the absence of such action being taken. On the contrary, as is now being publicized such molesting monsters are “traditionally” sent off to other churches where they continue to prey on children.

Hospitals get rid of bad doctors by giving them glowing recommendations with the proviso they go elsewhere. Schools get rid of bad administrators, and in many cases bad teachers, by the same mechanism. And the Roman Church operates in such insular secrecy, much as that of hospitals and schools, that the magnitude of the crimes against children is never really known.

We the People are acutely aware our entire government from the top down including many federal and state agencies operates in the same manner of secrecy and “taking care of their own” as the Roman Church, hospitals, and schools. As to the universities of America, the various “secret societies” and intelligence agencies pale by comparison when it comes to operating in secret. And the utter lack of any accountability on the part of universities enables them to continue operating in secrecy, successfully stifling any voices within the ranks raised in opposition. And just as the Roman Church is infamous for harboring its perverted priests, in the same manner the universities harbor their own perverts and all those opposed to any standards of moral behavior and speech. It is no wonder the ACLU is the handmaiden to the universities, being itself a product of the universities.

Many will find it curious, at the least, why so many millions continue supporting the Roman Church when their offerings and donations by the hundreds of millions of dollars are not being used for the intended purpose, but going to the victims of perverted priests of the church. One reason is the utter naiveté of those like the parishioner quoted “I hope they learned their lesson... Now we know that it’s out in the open.”

The naiveté of such a statement is obvious. The Roman Church will continue to do “business as usual” as it has for centuries so long as it is supported by those who believe their church is the right church. Years ago as I was discussing the subject of evolution and creation with a colleague who was a biology professor he paused and said, “If I could only believe as I once did.” He went on to explain how he missed the mysteries, the candles and incense, the liturgies and prayers, the confessional, all of which comprised the comfort he used to find in such things.

While I did not mention it at the time, these were the things Sinclair Lewis had Frank Shallard asking for. But the priest denied these to Frank unless he would accept all the teachings of the church as well, something Frank found he was unable to do. And because he could not accept such teachings, he was denied the consolations religion would otherwise offer him. But does it have to amount to this, that Roman Catholics must accept perversion among the priests of the church in order to have their religion? But if our own government has so little concern for children it refuses to make children a national priority, providing children substantive protection by federal law with national application, the Roman Church certainly cannot be expected to change its ways. There is a certain kind of evil, a seeming inevitability of such evil perpetrated against children that finds a safe harbor in too many of the institutions of men, whether political or religious.

If you have lived long enough to make a qualitative analysis of the subject you realize what passes for commercial humor in America has changed considerably over the past decades, and now it is much safer to engage in the lowest form of what some consider “humor” than what is truly humorous about the human species; and for good reason. America and the rest of the world has become very dangerous, and even gallows humor were it acceptable would not be able to make us feel safer; much in the manner of Thoreau’s comment concerning economics, while it may lend itself to levity it cannot so easily be disposed.

A major factor in the loss of real humor in America has its basis in the words of the Psalmist, “I said in my haste all men are liars.” I recall a preacher years ago commenting on the words of the Psalmist concluding, “You know folks, I haven’t been in any hurry about it, I’ve taken a lot of time to think this over, and I still think all men are liars.”

There is no doubt in my mind Sam Clemens was the most gifted, natural born liar with which this poor, tired old earth has ever been blessed. Not a day goes by that I’m not reminded of the debt America owes this champion of the tall tale, the “stretchers” Sam would tell for the sake of laughter benefiting untold millions of people. Even today this master of the English language and humor continues to be paid homage by millions throughout the world. But the distinction is always there between a lie told to do harm or take advantage, and those told whether for the sake of a tall tale or when one has no choice but to lie.

Which shall it be; keep your friends, keep your job, or speak your mind and to thine own self be true? This much is certain, as little Scout pointed out one must lie under certain circumstances. But it is a personal responsibility to discriminate as to when one must lie and when one must not. And just to the degree we find ourselves making allowances for lying or telling the truth, to that degree we define our own character, all the while acknowledging the fact that one must lie under certain circumstances, just as good manners, proper speech and etiquette are the socially approved method by which civilized people are able to congregate without coming to blows. It was for this reason the champion of the tall tale cautioned one must present their personal opinions carefully perfumed and barbered for the public. And it remains there are three subjects you do not bring up in a bar: Politics, Religion, and the Civil War.

But while Sam was the consummate master of humor, there is no disputing his genius for such humor had its basis in the very darkest of human experiences and emotions, as with all great works of humor exemplified by the Greeks and later by Shakespeare, so much so that he considered death the only pure and unalloyed gift of God. Far from being merely the clown laughing outwardly while crying inwardly, Sam wrote from the depths of human despair; that he was able to turn the tables on such despair of humankind, believing like Franklin it was not worthy of surviving, and laugh at himself while poking fun at others and the human condition was, in my opinion, nothing short of miraculous, his own peculiar spark of divinity.

As Harper Lee so well pointed out, real writers are compelled to write. So long as they write, they live; and they live to write; they could as well stop breathing as to stop writing. It is therefore no wonder that such real writers are also compelled to tell the truth in so many instances when a well-crafted lie might serve them better. Where Sam had the advantage, a product of his singular and unique genius for humor, was being able to plumb the dark side for his well crafted lies that served truth in the end.

Walt Kelly was a gifted humorist, and as such pointed out we should not take life too seriously, since it’s in no wise permanent. Such a point of view one would think should result in honesty. But the real honesty to be found in the best of humor begins with being honest with yourself. To the extent one is dishonest with themselves, to that extent they will find themselves being dishonest with others.

Politicians and the MSM suffer mightily from a lack of both humor and honesty. Emerson had long ago noted no one would become a politician had they a choice of some noble occupation, and I have concluded the same thing holds true for most of those involved with the MSM. How many of these, do you suppose, are really honest with themselves? It’s as though the “professionals” in government and the media have concluded of We the People in the words of Jack Nicholson “You can’t handle the truth!” Perhaps if we were ever told the truth we could put the lie to such a conclusion. But given the track record of politicians and those in the media I hold no hope of this ever happening.

Granted in an America held in bondage to politically correct speech there is no room for any discussion of the truth that does not degenerate into labeling and name-calling it comes down to lying in order to protect one’s rice bowl. Which shall it be; keep your friends, keep your job, or speak your mind and to thine own self be true?

Americans haven’t lost their sense of humor, but the very best of humor has its basis in the truth. And it is this loss of truth I blame for the lack of genuine humor in America, humor that is not degraded by meanness, perversion, or a pernicious attempt to harm or take advantage.

Luther may have been enlightened by “The just shall live by his faith,” but he wasn’t ignorant of the responsibility of such a thing evidenced by the works of faith. And Christianity thereafter began the arduous process of becoming a civilized religion, one that eventually gave rise to the very best of the arts and sciences despite the many obstructions and abuses along the way, and in some cases still ongoing. A case in point being the abuse of the Christian religion by President Bush, a professing “believer.” However, Bush is far more representative of the tyranny of religion as opposed to the Scriptural “liberty in Christ.”

The sinister secrecy of the Bush administration has its roots, I believe, in the assassination of JFK. From the moment that Carcano Carbine was displayed for the world to view as the touted weapon of choice by a supposed “expert,” Oswald, as a weapons expert myself and even owning one of these guns at the time as a curiosity piece because it was known to be the worst of military issue firearms used during WWII, I knew we were being lied to by our government. But why? If you have studied all the available documents and theories surrounding the assassination one thing is clear: JFK and his brother RFK had made enough enemies throughout the whole spectrum of government, banking and corporate interests, organized crime and intelligence agencies to seal their doom.

Certainly I want to see Bush and Cheney impeached, I want them brought to trial and convicted for their crimes. But as I have already noted several times, the same witch’s brew of interests that wanted JFK and RFK dead continues to infest Congress. There is not likely to be any impeachment because there are too many in Congress that dare not expose themselves. It is all for the most part like the Warren and 9/11 Commissions nothing but a charade to protect the same interests that sealed the fate of John and Robert Kennedy. Bush, Cheney, and Rove know this; and because they know this they can afford to act with impunity making their contribution to what America is being forced to endure today, a virtual Federal Triune Dictatorship under the rule of which We the People have little recourse. Despite the Internet, the MSM continues in thrall to politicians and their corporate masters.

But whatever one’s thoughts on the subject, it cannot be legitimately denied that a government that refuses to secure our own borders for the sake of slave labor and corporate profits, that wages protracted wars for the benefit of a very few without any benefit to We the People, but on the contrary is making America a pariah among the nations of the world, can only be viewed in the most sinister way. Being the President of the United States, holding the most powerful office of the most powerful nation in the world, it is obvious someone like Bush could not possibly be the right person for this position. Nevertheless, there he is; and that alone is enough for me to believe there is more to this sinister dictatorship in America than politics alone can account for; which is why I consider elements of the occult at work in this.

Regardless the positions of wealth, power, and education we find people involved with the occult. And not surprising since even the most wealthy, powerful, and well educated know they will die. As a result some become concerned about finding meaning beyond that of their physical existence, and when traditional religious beliefs are not sufficient for them they resort to oftentimes bizarre beliefs and practices.

It is relatively easy to ignore the extravagant claims for religion, those of the pope, for example, that he alone speaks for God and it is either believe and follow the pope or go to hell. The pope is far from being alone in his delusion; but no matter what the religion or representative, when anyone tells me they speak for God I immediately consign them to that class of persons not worth my time. Over the decades of my life I have formed some beliefs that can easily be construed as “religious,” though I do not consider them as such, but it would not cross my mind to attempt forcing these beliefs on any others. However, this requires separating beliefs from facts, the spiritual from the physical; a difficult task for most of us who believe there is a very real spiritual dimension to our lives.

While I have known some good people that live their lives according to the precepts of the Gospel, that put the Golden Rule into practice by their lives, I have known too many others for whom their religion is a kind of rabbit’s foot, a totem rather than pure religion as defined by Scripture. There are some that believe preaching at others at every opportunity is pleasing Jesus, not knowing all they are doing apart from being obnoxious is trying to put Jesus in their debt by their “faithful witness.” And these have their counterparts in all religious systems.

However, to use the word “sinister” does have theological implications, some of which are relatively benign, but others like those of Bush of enormously malevolent, malignant magnitude affecting all of us. When any man whether the pope or Bush declares God speaks to them rational people have just cause for alarm. For example, if the pope were more concerned about ridding his church of pervert priests preying on children he might have more credibility ex cathedra. But to deny protecting children to the utmost of his ability, all the while nodding agreement to what many of us suppose must be the closest to the heart of God, children, puts the lie to all his good intentions. And when Bush orders the deaths of so many innocent civilians and American troops all the while refusing to secure our borders for the obvious purpose of advancing a personal agenda of power and wealth this puts the lie to any of his pronounced “concerns” about terrorism or for America and We the People.

The Scripture has it that “faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” So if the just, the children of God live by their faith according to Scripture irrespective of religion or no religion their lives will declare this “living faith.” But it is not enough for anyone to say they have such faith while denying their part in being accountable for allowing evil to have its way; it is not enough to preach you have hope while denying access for hope to others. While faith without works is dead, being alone, so with hope without justification by works, and simply telling me to smile and just keep hoping things will work out is at the most charitable naïve in the extreme, when not downright insulting to my intelligence. There are just too many “Be warmed and filled” people, preaching a gospel of “positivism” while ignoring their part in confronting evil for what it is.

However, the problem is historical; a history of humankind where it is abundantly evident good people do not want or seek power and authority over others. This leaves a vacuum for the very worst of humankind seizing power and authority. Franklin recognized the problem leading to his dismal assessment of providing a republic if it could be kept. Reputedly the wisest man of his time and knowing human nature so well, I very much doubt Franklin believed such a republic could be kept; and the present leadership of America certainly confirms the doubt.

Every day we are forced to confront the evil of some monster in human guise raping, torturing and murdering a child somewhere. Some get national attention, and some do not. Years ago I wrote of the need for children becoming a national priority, both in safety from monsters and in the education of children. Someone recently said in respect to the safety of children from monsters what is needed to get the ears of politicians is “national outrage!” But over the years I have come to realize this is not likely to happen. The very evil that refuses the ears and silences those in positions of power in our government is the same evil that suppresses the cries of the children being raped, tortured and murdered. And if the most innocent of victims in America have no voice that will be heard by our government, nothing but that word “sinister” suffices for me by way of explanation.

It really doesn’t matter to me whether a person has any beliefs of a religious or occult nature, what really matters is whether those in positions of power and authority have such beliefs and use these to justify their most heinous actions against others, whether the fanatics of Islam or any that profess to believe God warrants their actions to do harm to those that refuse to obey such “servants of God.” My part is to resist the Devil by whatever definition wherever he is to be found. And if the facts of JFK and 9/11 have been withheld from the light of day, if those like Bush and Muslim fanatics are holding millions in bondage to tyranny and fear one can only speculate what other forces of darkness are at work.

The real genius of Harper Lee was her being able to recapture so vividly the world she describes through the eyes of the children. She so very accurately recreates this world and makes it live in such a way as to nearly be a joke on adults that didn’t realize, as Capote later noted, they were reading a children’s book. But in fact, Harper Lee was so successful in recreating that world she knew as a child, so successful in reliving it as a child, I believe she said in effect “Goodbye cruel world,” and retreated back into that early childhood world as the one truly happy place she knew and understood so well.

But while Harper Lee so well understood girls, she could not be expected to understand boys nearly as well. There is a great gulf fixed between the two that in some respects cannot be crossed. It was enough that she understood girls well enough to be able to portray boys as realistically as she did. This came to me when I shared a particular chapter of my largely autobiographical novel about two children growing up in WWII Bakersfield with a young woman who told me, “I had forgotten what it was like to be a little girl.” It was a most humbling moment.

However, in addition to my two beautiful daughters Diana and Karen who taught me the best and truest things I would ever learn about girls and women, a few of you men may have had a Charlie Brown experience like his with the little red haired girl. Charles Schulz understood how a boy can be reduced to blathering idiocy by such a girl. Remember when Charlie Brown found the pencil the little girl had dropped on the playground and he discovered it had the marks from her teeth and he exclaimed rapturously “She’s human!” If you don’t understand Charlie Brown’s reaction, you have never met an angel. When I was a boy selling garden seed and Cloverine Salve door-to-door in order to earn my Daisy Red Ryder Carbine I met such an angel.

A girl answered the door.

She was beautiful! Astoundingly so! I had never seen a girl as beautiful!

“Yes?” she asked softly and pleasantly with a faint smile.

Her voice matched her beauty; it was musical, like that I imagined of an angel. She was wearing a white frock with small pink roses embroidered on it. The short sleeves were puffed and trimmed with lace. Long, fine, shining light auburn hair hung down nearly to her waist and curled slightly at the end.

But her eyes! They were the most striking thing about her. I had never seen eyes like hers before! They were a beautiful violet; shaded by the longest lashes I had ever seen on a girl. But those eyes; they seemed like they knew what you were thinking!

Not to worry, the sight of her and the music of her voice suddenly and inexplicably made me incapable of coherent thought. Having suddenly lost my mind and being reduced to idiocy I found myself blushing and stammering something to the effect, I hoped, that Doctor Mathison had sent me to see Pastor Samuels. To my dismay and immense relief I must have made myself miraculously intelligible because she asked, “Oh, and what is your name?”

I stammered out another message to the effect, I think, that my name was Donnie Bradden. But I couldn’t be sure. Somehow I was having trouble remembering my name. There was something definitely wrong with my brain. Maybe I was going to have another one of those episodes that caused me to put the snake down Ella May’s collar so long ago? I fervently hoped not, not in front of this indescribably beautiful girl!

But with that slight, faint smile and soft musical voice she asked me to wait a moment while she went to get her father, the pastor. I breathed a huge sigh of relief at this. I wasn’t sure what her father was going to be like but I was certain I would be able to at least talk right to him. At least I was reasonably sure he would be human. No mere girl as beautiful as the one who answered the door could be so; she had to be some kind of angel.

Only then was I suddenly and unaccountably self-conscious about the way I was dressed. Now I had on clean, belted Levi’s instead of my usual bib overalls. I was wearing a clean shirt, my hands and fingernails were clean, my hair was combed and I had on my good tennis shoes. Grandma had tutored me well in being presentable as a salesman. Yet I was suddenly very uncomfortably aware of the way I was dressed...

As I left, I tried to think of something else in order to get my mind off her. Thinking of her was both uncomfortable and pleasing at the same time. And I didn’t like things like this that I didn’t understand. But I didn’t want to stop thinking about her. And that was uncomfortable because I didn’t understand it. It suddenly occurred to me that no girl had ever caused me to be so mixed up in my mind. I didn’t understand how I felt about this either. Good? Bad? No use… I simply didn’t understand.

One thing was certain; I was going to be better dressed the next time I called even though the thought of going back strangely frightened me. Still, the mystery of the angel was one of such fascination I knew I had to go back. I needed to understand and make sense of my confusion. There was always an explanation for mysteries, I believed.

Shaking my head and trying to get my mind back on track, I considered the added mystery of my clothes. And it was a kind of mystery. But one that surely had an easier explanation than that of the mystery of the little angel. But somehow the clothes had a bearing on the mystery of her as well. Now, that was an interesting thought … maybe even a clue?...

While the novel required I go back in time like Harper Lee, one of the lessons taught by Jean to Donnie was the truth of what I had been told by my great-grandmother and grandmother: “Girls were meant by God to be a civilizing influence on boys.” I recall my kind of resenting this because I didn’t think I was uncivilized; I had been taught good manners and knew to be respectful to my elders and so on, just what about me as a boy was in need of any civilizing influence from a mere girl?

But Jean did civilize Donnie in ways no grownup could possibly do or explain. In time he would learn how to dress for a girl, how to speak correctly and pay attention to the many things boys are inclined to think unimportant until they meet an angel. And as Donnie later considered the mystery of the little angel, he thought perhaps there would be more civilized boys if there were more angels like Jean, and as they grew to be women those like Jean would result in more civilized men. And just maybe, the problem with things like wars and so many other things wrong was there were not enough angels in the world.

How quickly adults seem to forget the depth of thought of which children are capable. Harper Lee had not forgotten, and neither had I. Donnie and Jean were only twelve years old, but already their thoughts were deeply profound as they struggle for answers to very complex questions of life and about each other. And over these many decades of life, I still believe as Donnie the world needs more angels like Jean with their civilizing influence on boys and men.

Emerson had pointed to the danger of sharing your most intimate thoughts in what you believed to be the most beautiful of words with anyone else, seeking their approval, only to have this “treasure” treated as of no consequence. And true enough, in my own experience as a writer and author this is a quick way to lose a friend by telling them honestly what you think of their writing. What people are usually seeking is approval, not honest criticism. Many times I have refused to read something from friends asking “What do you think of this?” I refer them to the many services provided writers where an objective evaluation of their writing can be had for a fee. I may still lose a friend, but this remains sound counsel for those that want an honest and objective opinion of their work.

But writing in America throughout has fallen on hard times, as anyone truly literate in the great works of literature knows. It is with justification I have said mine is the last generation of the great writers of America.

My having been raised with the great literature of Western Civilization and like Harper Lee among natural story tellers of a past generation, primarily southerners of the Dust Bowl migration, it seems natural I would become a writer and author. But as a teacher I found my background in story telling played an important role; there was hardly a situation I had to deal with concerning my classes some story would come to mind to make and emphasize a point. Perhaps some of this skill in story telling is in my genes from my Cherokee ancestors as well. Much as the most ancient of poets, my Indian ancestors cultivated their story tellers, their poets, and honored them because this was how those things of greatest importance were passed on from generation to generation.

By the time I began attending college, I came face to face with the facts of Harper Lee’s criticism of the universities no longer teaching writing. I became intimately acquainted with the truth of her criticism, and have written much about this, including my critique of Ms. Lee’s literary masterpiece considered by some including me “the novel of the century” in which I elaborate somewhat on her reasons for never writing again. But in sum, “To Kill A Mockingbird” might well be considered the epitaph for writing in America. One commentator reflecting my own thought believed Ms. Lee considered trying any further to advance writing in America would only be “spitting into the wind.”

In the only interview Harper Lee gave in 1964 she stated in respect to writing: “There’s no substitute for the love of language, for the beauty of an English sentence. There’s no substitute for struggling, if a struggle is needed, to make an English sentence as beautiful as it should be... We really have no tradition of criticism. (Here we go, back to tradition.) The thing that has made it worse is the mass media—television, radio—that dominate time with less than a full creative effort. Reading gets confined to a quick grab for the latest best seller as the commuter dashes for the train. I think the American public is the worst-informed public in the world about its own literature. We have few journals that begin to compare with English periodicals like The Spectator and The Economist. But then, books are published in England in a more leisurely fashion, and the judgments on them are better simply for that. In general, American criticism is in a very poor state, and I think it always will be...

Ray Bradbury recently emphasizing his novel “Fahrenheit 451” was not about censorship, but expressed his concern about TV supplanting reading and writing, the danger TV posed to a literary class in America anticipated Harper Lee’s own concerns. The further death knell emphasizing my comment about Harper Lee’s epitaph “There’s no substitute for the love of language, for the beauty of an English sentence” has been the rampant political correctness that has betrayed the beauty of the English language to Bush and other lovers of slave labor in America touting Spanish, as though this were equal in any way to the language of Shakespeare and the great works of literature in English. Merely quoting Ms. Lee’s comment now is to open yourself to the howls of “racism!” by those with an agenda of denigrating the language of Shakespeare and all great writers of the English language and opposing making English our national language by law.

The utterly inane shallowness of the media including that of the news in both print and TV with a fixation on celebrity, the sheer lack of writing skills evidencing a lack of love for language on the part of newspaper columnists throughout is a reflection of Ray Bradbury and Harper Lee’s concern and criticism. That there has not been a novel the equal of TKM since is commentary enough to prove the point.

Affectation, pretentiousness, these will never take the place of having mastered the discipline of writing, the ability to convey complex thoughts in written expression with the intention of communicating rather than seeking approval of your prose. The cautionary words of Sam Clemens, Faulkner, Lewis, and Harper Lee continue to hold true in respect to writing. Refusing these eventually the greatness that was once the English language became merely tawdry, in too many cases trash reflecting Thoreau’s criticism “... a cloth-o’-silver slut, To have her train borne up, and her soul trail in the dirt.” Only now it is the English language itself that has been made to serve the cause of slavery, no longer the language of freedom and the most noble thoughts of men and women finding expression, but fallen to “a cloth-o’-silver slut” pretending to be other than what it is in fact, too often pretense and affectation in lieu of the real love and mastery of the English language.

Much in the manner of Nathaniel asking Philip “Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?” poking fun at various places like Bakersfield is a time-honored function of the “literary set,” and writers like Sinclair Lewis did this with real artistry. Just the mention of my hometown is enough to cause titters among those in places like San Francisco, and while living there it seemed a sacred obligation on my part to punctuate the conversations at various cocktail parties with mentioning my birthplace of Weedpatch, which the doctor noted on my birth certificate was “near Bakersfield.” And while my mention of Weedpatch would elicit real interest among the literary set, no doubt because of the similarity to Al Capp’s “Dogpatch” that even the literati had to acknowledge, it was the mention of Bakersfield that caused the rolling of eyes and tittering remarks.

But beyond pricking the balloons of pompous asses by mentioning my “humble origin” to those that considered anyone with a Ph. D. being born in Weedpatch (near Bakersfield) as an insulting effrontery to the educated classes, to those that feel themselves superior by accident of birth or later choices of geography like San Francisco, there is a need to accept the fact that throughout the San Joaquin Valley there are the substantial drawbacks like world class air pollution and a preponderance of non-English speaking people that cannot make any contribution to raising the standards of culture in places like Bakersfield and Fresno. Nor can Bakersfield easily escape either its past or being more readily associated with Buck Owens and the Crystal Palace rather than our museums, book stores and art galleries.

So it was that in all seriousness I suggested the Padre Hotel be made into a world-class “gentleman’s club,” something to outshine any pleasure palace to be found in places like Las Vegas. I gave my reasons for believing this should be done, and it would certainly give Bakersfield real stature and shut the mouths of detractors in places like San Francisco. But alas, my sound judgment and reasoning has thus far fallen on deaf ears. What politicians continue to believe to be their private domain concerning prostitution and drugs coming with elected office continues to be denied ordinary citizens.

While Kern County has come far since the impact of the Dust Bowl days, none of us a product of those sincere and honest people that settled here would want to deny our heritage of the best of civilized manners and speech representative of the southerners like my maternal grandfather John B. Caldwell that came here back then. However, the music that became known as the “Bakersfield Sound” in those early days would be foresworn by those whose pretentiousness would deny such a thing.

As radios played throughout Bakersfield we children would often pick up some of the lyrics that went with the catchy tunes being played. And because the producers were not always circumspect in the choice of programming, some of these songs had lyrics that did not fit the moral code of our elders. But then, the catchy jingles on radio advertising things like Dr. Pepper, Pepsi Cola, and Shredded Ralston were often intermixed with the music programming and some of this apparently went unnoticed by many of the adults.

While I was attending Mt. Vernon Elementary during the early 40s the school was having a talent show. As one of the better singers at school I was volunteered by my teacher to sing in front of the whole school. She had a few selections for me to choose from like “Red River Valley” but none of them seemed to hit me quite right. They just didn’t fit my mood. Bakersfield radio stations carried many good musical programs and I was always listening to music from the radio, the church, and mom’s records, and I had memorized many of these songs. As a result I had an extensive repertoire of widely diverse songs and decided to do one of my own favorites. But I failed to share this decision with the teacher. And so it was that the principal, teachers, pupils, members of the PTA and others were treated to my rendition of that great and famous ballad popular in Bakersfield at the time: “Cold Icy Fingers.”<