Sugar Creek Publishing

IN DEFENSE OF COMMON SENSE
# 148

May 27, 2013

“Memorial Day”

May 27, 2013. Dawn creeps across the horizon on the east coast of America. Shadows fall, shading the lawns of uncounted cemeteries large and small, urban and rural, well kept or sadly overgrown. Those markers not only cast a shadow in terms of light, but also of conscience.

For every time we rise to check on a child or grandchild, to go to work, to breakfast with a mate in retirement years, to leave our homes to visit with the sick or serve our churches our freedom to do so rests in the hallowed ground of each and every one of our veterans’ graves.

For some, rest came after many years. Among the World War II generation, many clamber onto planes for an “Honor Flight” to the World War II Memorial in Washington, D.C. Yet, we lose more and more of them daily. Their numbers shrink and one day we will find that only a few remain. Few talk about their experiences and must be encouraged to make videotapes so that generations yet unborn will know a bit about them.

I believe that these men and women stay silent for basic reasons. They believe that they simply did their jobs. They do not see themselves as special people. They also do not want to relive the events that took lives of comrades within feet of them. They must have asked why they survived and so many others died. The bitter fruit of total victory is not total acceptance. How does one accept finality of that sort? I do not think it is possible.

Returning from the Pacific Theater and the European Theater of Operations, the injured and the physically unscathed walked into the arms of loving families. Those without families basked in the respect of friends and neighbors of their parents. Don’t forget how many young men lied about their age and enlisted below the age of 18. A number of Pearl Harbor survivors were only 17. They were just boys.

Boys in terms of bodies, but men in terms of patriotism and determination. My parents lost uncles and fathers in World War I. It was not, as termed, “the war to end all wars.” Oh, if it only had been.

Years passed and my parents lost their peers in World War II. One of my father’s friends was a pilot and went down on D-Day over the beaches of France during the largest invasion the world had ever seen.

More of my parents’ friends died in Korea. Our troops are still there, forming the only barrier to the insanity awash in the north where, incidentally, a night satellite photo shows only scattered lights. Their people live in the darkness of tyranny accompanying a lack of electricity.

More years passed. Then, my parents watched in anguish as folks their age lost children (my peers) in Vietnam. Mike DeBusk was just such a loss. He was a big guy and I’m sure a credit to the U.S. Marine Corps.

Wars morphed into hideous conflicts with no clear victory, only enforced peace at peril 24/7.

More years… Iraq invaded Kuwait and the United States, with the help of NATO, came to the aid of the small Middle Eastern oil kingdom. That said to be over, our military settled into an uneasy quasi-peace. Some saw the threat that would spread if Saddam Hussein were to remain in power, but troops cut short the march to Baghdad.

The twisted beliefs of Muslim radicals spread throughout the planet like weeds in a garden. Years passed.

September 11, 2001. Our world collapsed with the Twin Towers as Americans and foreigners alike lost family and friends in the first attack on our homeland since a small force landed on an Alaskan island during World War II.

For the first time since Pearl Harbor, a heinous, unprovoked attack on the United States prompted young men and older men alike to enlist in the military to defend their beloved country.

Once again, war robbed wives of husbands, husbands of wives, children of parents, parents of children, churches of worshippers, National Guard units of dedicated members.

Young men lost in war spark such emotion in those left behind, whether family or perfect strangers. Such deaths are such a waste. Who will ever know what those lives would have brought forth?

Yet, for so many others, death came with a bullet, a bomb, an ambush, in a foxhole, in a plane crash, a ship sinking, a submarine imploding deep beneath the sea, in forests, in deserts, and some in lands so inhospitable as to defy description to those who did not experience it. Still others met death in captivity, more often than not victims of horrendous torture and mental anguish. It is to these, both men and women, that we owe our allegiance, our respect and unending gratitude.

Unending? Yes. Unending. Their sacrifice has no end, for the end does not come with death. For those who had no chance to live out a long and happy life, we pledge that they will never be forgotten.

The Gold Star Mothers participate in projects that aid those who do come home, but injured badly. They lost their sons, but they will not abandon those soldiers who need their support. They honor their sons by their loving kindness to the wounded.

Wounded Warriors Project comes to the aid of the injured service member and helps family caregivers with incredible challenges. If you can, help them. While the press sets aside time on Memorial Day to mention the military men and women who died in the service of their country, I vow not to allow myself to think of them on only one day of the year.

To many of us, Memorial Day is a perpetual celebration of unimaginable sacrifice. We cannot bury the sacrifice with the dead. We must raise it as a mission that will not end.

As those shadows fall across our landscape in military or civilian cemeteries dating from the Revolutionary War to current conflicts and whether those shadows fall from stones marked with a Cross, a Star of David, or devoid of any faith designation, they are not a pall, they are a reminder that we all cast a shadow with our lives. Theirs is a shadow of conscience. Where is ours?

May our sense of conscience come out of the shadows and vow to make this a finer nation. We need more than lip service one day a year. We need steely resolve. Perpetual vigilance yields perpetual freedom — but freedom that comes at a high cost. Think about it.

IN DEFENSE OF COMMON SENSE
By Hetty Gray

# 147

May 21, 2013

“Baron Down”

It hasn’t been that many years ago that there was no way for anyone to convince me that the age of robber barons was history. The difference is that the identity has changed from one of private persons to that of government officials.

If there is one entity that strikes fear in any American, despite income level, it is the IRS. There is no better time to demand a fair tax and the dissolution of the IRS than now when we find that the agency systematically targeted groups opposed to the agenda of a first-term president seeking reelection.

It cannot be a coincidence that a 27-month push to deny tax-exempt status and 501C4 status for people moving against a growing and overreaching government preceded the 2012 presidential election.

If, as it seems, records attest to the fact that people involved in the targeted groups were also audited during that time, the die is cast that this was no ordinary work of “rogue agents” in Cincinnati.

If you know anything about government service, you realize that no underling can do anything without an order. My question — and that of all of you – is just who gave the order to weed out groups with “patriot”, “tea party”, “freedom”, or similar words in their titles in the application process.

Add to this the regularity of “I don’t know” as a standard answer from those testifying before Congress and you are left agape at the incredulity of the whole situation. If, in fact, the high officials brought to testify before key committees in Washington do know “nothing,” then we are brought to only one conclusion — and it’s not pretty.

Nobody knows anything about “Fast and Furious”. Nobody knows anything about Benghazi. Nobody knows anything about IRS targeting conservative groups over more than two years. The Attorney General doesn’t know anything about the DOJ going after a reporter and naming him “criminal co-conspirator”. Nobody can produce any letter of recusal or statement of it by the AG.

The robber barons have new identities. They rob us of more than money. They wield power over our very lives — our national security, our privacy, our finances, — and if Lois Lerner doesn’t lose her job and we don’t abolish the IRS –– our most private medical information and “yea or nay” to what care we can access from our doctors.

We cannot stand back and allow this to happen without complaint and outrage. Push your representatives in Washington to demand change and pass a fair tax. One less agency equates to one less threat. It’s time we removed the IRS. It’s time for us to put down the tyrannical robber baron.
Our cry? “Baron Down!”

The label of “do nothing” affixed to our Congress by the current occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is akin to the kettle calling the pot black. Why?
He leads a “know nothing” administration. The combination of head of state that gets his information from the newspapers flies in the face of common sense. If this is true, he can save us money and fire his entire staff. They sure aren’t doing their jobs! If parents refuse to take “I don’t know” from children, how can we accept that answer from those who lead us?

One other seminal question begs an answer. How can powerful government agencies run well if those heading those agencies know nothing? Well, the answer affirms what we see today. They run, but they run amok.

Think about it.

IN DEFENSE OF COMMON SENSE
By Hetty Gray

#146

“Dangers of Complacency”

It has been a difficult week for all Americans as they watched Boston deal with an unimaginable terrorist attack. Suddenly, today’s history shouted not “The British are coming,” but “The terrorists are here!”

Awakening on a Sunday, it is unfathomable to us that any religion can espouse killing innocent people to further belief. It begs a question and underscores the fact that the very freedoms we cherish put us at risk in a dangerous world.

Dr. Zuhdi Jasser’s is a voice that many Americans never hear. A valued contributor on FOX News Channel, he is appalled that there is no outcry from Muslims across the nation. The silence is deafening. He appealed to peaceful followers of Islam to step forward and demand an end to the violence.

The constant coverage of the Boston Bombing should prod each of us to take the threat seriously. Moreover, there is a terrible reality to our lives in this country. The very freedoms that we cherish put us at risk in a very dangerous world.

Envy and greed are prime motivators. When mixed with extremist religious beliefs, the result is mayhem. I recall a column written shortly after 9/11. I felt then, as I do now, that a nationwide series of timed attacks in ordinary places of business and sports venues would wreak havoc.

If we are lucky — and that is a question in itself — the Boston Marathon Bombing is not the precursor to more attacks. Urging one another to be vigilant is but a first step. Internalizing the threat without a degree of panic looms as a serious way of life now.

Israel knows the game. We hear lawyers scream “profiling” as if it were a curse word. Israelis profile everybody. Not only do they search belongings, they interview El Al passengers and consider body language and all manner of behaviors that telegraph danger.

The fact that someone had a bomb in his shoe initiated shoe removal at all airports, body searches for hidden explosives, and cost millions of man-hours of productivity for business people and wasted vacation time for travelers as all of them endured the delays.

Don’t tolerate commentators describing the Boston Bombers as “boys.” They weren’t “boys,” folks. They were men hell bent on killing innocent people to further a mindset that Islam should rule the world. Trained by a cadre of people who use women and children as shields, they shine as prime examples of evil.

Our troops protect women and children. Theirs sacrifice them without a second thought. Remember that these men came as youngsters with their families and we gave them political asylum. With that designation comes monetary help. We funded this family and were repaid with an attack of unprecedented horror.

So long as we allow the government to soft pedal the profiling, we ask for more Bostons. Take a lesson from Israel. Take the offense. Don’t sit back and wait for another attack. Terror is a form of power play that fuels importance in small-minded people. It attracts advocates among us. What better way to get at the American psyche than to recruit from among our citizens.

To believe that all Muslims are terrorists is false, yet many are Muslim. That fact alone should bring pressure to bear on the religion as a whole and its leadership.

Hate crimes are more than bent thought processes. They are a calling to those who wish to end the American way of life. Control is at the core of such movements. To allow them to gain even a small amount of control is to cede to their tactics. Fear is their friend. We must counter that fear with resolve.

Think about what the two of them did on Monday. They sauntered down the sidewalk attired casually — all the while intending to murder innocents. The younger bomber placed a bomb behind eight-year-old Martin Richard then calmly walked away. Martin died. His little sister Jane lost a leg. His mother Denise was severely injured. Dad Bill and older brother Henry were not hurt. Pray for that family and the families of Krystle Campbell and Lü Lingzi. No family deserved this. Don’t forget Sean Collier’s family. He died in the line of duty, and I’m sure that MIT never expected one of their own to die at the hands of terrorists. Such is the atmosphere in America today.

We listen to those in Washington bantering about “separation of church and state,” and yet the terrorists’ mosque received $225,000 in tax subsidy. What’s behind that? I wonder if Massachusetts will answer that question in the coming days? Any idea that a Protestant, Catholic, or Jewish house of worship had the same chance at government money?

Sorry to be cynical, but my comment would be “Fat chance!”

Wake up and smell the coffee folks. Monday is one day away. We will go about our business as usual, but it should be anything but usual. We cannot dive back into a life of complacency.

Sadly, our society is at great risk. We must push ahead to insure our safety and that of our fellow citizens. It is time that we begin to live with a different view. We are at risk and we need to be vigilant.

I always encourage readers to thank members of the armed services when encountered on the street. I now, with a great deal of apology, add our men in blue — policemen, firemen, and members of the FBI, CIA and other agencies that put their lives on the line to keep us safe. Thanks to all of you! Take a moment to thank them. They deserve it.

Again, the question surfaces. We give incoming immigrants every avenue for success. We do not discriminate against their belief systems and welcome their houses of worship. Shouldn’t they harbor some responsibility for the actions of a few? Why aren’t their leaders speaking out against this? Given their freedom in this country, where is the Muslim community in America? Think about it.

IN DEFENSE OF COMMON SENSE
By Hetty Gray

#146

“Dangers of Complacency”

It has been a difficult week for all Americans as they watched Boston deal with an unimaginable terrorist attack. Suddenly, today’s history shouted not “The British are coming,” but “The terrorists are here!”

Awakening on a Sunday, it is unfathomable to us that any religion can espouse killing innocent people to further belief. It begs a question and underscores the fact that the very freedoms we cherish put us at risk in a dangerous world.

Dr. Zuhdi Jasser’s is a voice that many Americans never hear. A valued contributor on FOX News Channel, he is appalled that there is no outcry from Muslims across the nation. The silence is deafening. He appealed to peaceful followers of Islam to step forward and demand an end to the violence.

The constant coverage of the Boston Bombing should prod each of us to take the threat seriously. Moreover, there is a terrible reality to our lives in this country. The very freedoms that we cherish put us at risk in a very dangerous world.

Envy and greed are prime motivators. When mixed with extremist religious beliefs, the result is mayhem. I recall a column written shortly after 9/11. I felt then, as I do now, that a nationwide series of timed attacks in ordinary places of business and sports venues would wreak havoc.

If we are lucky — and that is a question in itself — the Boston Marathon Bombing is not the precursor to more attacks. Urging one another to be vigilant is but a first step. Internalizing the threat without a degree of panic looms as a serious way of life now.

Israel knows the game. We hear lawyers scream “profiling” as if it were a curse word. Israelis profile everybody. Not only do they search belongings, they interview El Al passengers and consider body language and all manner of behaviors that telegraph danger.

The fact that someone had a bomb in his shoe initiated shoe removal at all airports, body searches for hidden explosives, and cost millions of man-hours of productivity for business people and wasted vacation time for travelers as all of them endured the delays.

Don’t tolerate commentators describing the Boston Bombers as “boys.” They weren’t “boys,” folks. They were men hell bent on killing innocent people to further a mindset that Islam should rule the world. Trained by a cadre of people who use women and children as shields, they shine as prime examples of evil.

Our troops protect women and children. Theirs sacrifice them without a second thought. Remember that these men came as youngsters with their families and we gave them political asylum. With that designation comes monetary help. We funded this family and were repaid with an attack of unprecedented horror.

So long as we allow the government to soft pedal the profiling, we ask for more Bostons. Take a lesson from Israel. Take the offense. Don’t sit back and wait for another attack. Terror is a form of power play that fuels importance in small-minded people. It attracts advocates among us. What better way to get at the American psyche than to recruit from among our citizens.

To believe that all Muslims are terrorists is false, yet many are Muslim. That fact alone should bring pressure to bear on the religion as a whole and its leadership.

Hate crimes are more than bent thought processes. They are a calling to those who wish to end the American way of life. Control is at the core of such movements. To allow them to gain even a small amount of control is to cede to their tactics. Fear is their friend. We must counter that fear with resolve.

Think about what the two of them did on Monday. They sauntered down the sidewalk attired casually — all the while intending to murder innocents. The younger bomber placed a bomb behind eight-year-old Martin Richard then calmly walked away. Martin died. His little sister Jane lost a leg. His mother Denise was severely injured. Dad Bill and older brother Henry were not hurt. Pray for that family and the families of Krystle Campbell and Lü Lingzi. No family deserved this. Don’t forget Sean Collier’s family. He died in the line of duty, and I’m sure that MIT never expected one of their own to die at the hands of terrorists. Such is the atmosphere in America today.

We listen to those in Washington bantering about “separation of church and state,” and yet the terrorists’ mosque received $225,000 in tax subsidy. What’s behind that? I wonder if Massachusetts will answer that question in the coming days? Any idea that a Protestant, Catholic, or Jewish house of worship had the same chance at government money?

Sorry to be cynical, but my comment would be “Fat chance!”

Wake up and smell the coffee folks. Monday is one day away. We will go about our business as usual, but it should be anything but usual. We cannot dive back into a life of complacency.

Sadly, our society is at great risk. We must push ahead to insure our safety and that of our fellow citizens. It is time that we begin to live with a different view. We are at risk and we need to be vigilant.

I always encourage readers to thank members of the armed services when encountered on the street. I now, with a great deal of apology, add our men in blue — policemen, firemen, and members of the FBI, CIA and other agencies that put their lives on the line to keep us safe. Thanks to all of you! Take a moment to thank them. They deserve it.

Again, the question surfaces. We give incoming immigrants every avenue for success. We do not discriminate against their belief systems and welcome their houses of worship. Shouldn’t they harbor some responsibility for the actions of a few? Why aren’t their leaders speaking out against this? Given their freedom in this country, where is the Muslim community in America? Think about it.

IN DEFENSE OF COMMON SENSE
By Hetty Gray

# 144

“Twilight Zone?”

Sometimes I feel as if I have been sent through some sort of time bend and find myself in the purview of Rod Serling.

I suppose that only someone over 55 would feel the same. I certainly fit that bill, since another two years will find me hitting the seventy mark.

The sense of propriety lived and shown by our Founding Fathers is not only ailing, it is in terminal condition. News outlets highlight the prurient and neglect the larger issues of the day, choosing instead to stand aside and watch as the country slips into the abyss of tolerance.

Once, the statement, “I won’t tolerate that” was heard night after night in households across the nation in exchanges between parents and children. Children toed the mark and rules not only existed, but parents enforced them. Promiscuity was taboo, as was sexual activity among teens. Sex belonged in marriage, and the occasional slip into out-of-wedlock pregnancy was handled far differently. Girls simply disappeared and returned months later, and the progeny placed into a secure adoptive home.

In the 1960s, while segregation was the rule in many areas of the country, the Negro family was alive and well. More than 95% of all black families consisted of father, mother and children. Many claim that the incredibly strong cohesion stemmed from the fact that so many families were torn asunder during the era of slavery. Not only is that understandable, it is a testament to the importance of marriage.

Church was a foundation to the Negro community and much of their music is so familiar to Americans that the genesis of the tunes is lost. They are American music. Ah, so true! Spirituals not only caught the ear of the America, they also touched its heart.

I anguish over the countless babies that have been aborted in the name of women’s reproductive rights. For those of us who believe that life begins at conception, abortion is nothing short of murder.

Consider the widely ignored trial of the Philadelphia doctor who deliberately terminated live babies during late-term abortion procedures. Contrast this nearly invisible media response to one where a serial killer of small children stands trial. Is this Gosnell person any different?

I wonder what those stalwart, long-suffering folks would think if they could see the conditions today when a high percentage of black children are born into homes without fathers? I wonder what they would say to the young people who seek escape in drugs and aberrant behavior? I don’t restrict the problems to the black community, because it is far wider in scope and envelops every ethnicity.

The sad story is that generation after generation will grow up without a father in the home. Role models so strong in the past now dissolve into sports heroes, and those who live wholesome lives are rare.

Pray for our nation. When government condones handing out the “morning after pill” to girls as young as fifteen without parental knowledge, what is next? I shudder to consider that at all.

Each morning brings a new day, but so many of those days are such disappointments to those of us who believe that the America we love is dying. Courage is the ability to face down evil and do the right thing. Courage is not coming out of a bigger and bigger closet and flaunting homosexuality. Privacy is privacy. If some people feel that they need to live that lifestyle, let them do it — but in private.

I do not know what it will take to change course, but I pray that God will give us the guidance we need. He is there for us. We have only to ask. Think about it.

IN DEFENSE OF COMMON SENSE
By Hetty Gray

# 143

April 21, 2013

“Dangerous Complacency”

Monday we sat aghast at yet another Islamic attack took the lives and shattered the bodies of innocent people. “Yet another?” You bet. The Fort Hood massacre wasn’t a case of workplace violence. The perpetrator was heard screaming “Allah Akbar” as he systematically mowed down cohorts.

But should this incident sparked shock? I think not. Patience on the terrorists’ part is not balanced by vigorous vigilance on ours. Because we live in a free society where people can move around at will, it is hard to internalize the mindset of awareness that the growing threat requires.

This has been a hard week for all of us — individually and corporately. The cry of “The British are coming” is eclipsed by the “Islamic terrorists are here.” Yet, we should not be surprised.

Our very character welcomes others. We are not, by nature, a suspicious society. However, of necessity, that is changing. Questions arise about how we monitor activities of a movement that shelters itself behind religion.

As we move to houses of worship across the nation, it is hard to internalize a creed that preaches death to non-believers and eternal reward for murderers. Yet, as we hear from the grisly “last videos” of suicide bombers, this is reality for perhaps tens of thousands of Islamists around the world.

I seldom write on a Sunday, but this week demands it. Shocking as it may seem Boston gave a $225,000 tax subsidy to the mosque attended by the terrorist duo. This shocks most of us because we constantly hear the bantering of “separation of church and state.” I wonder if a Protestant, Catholic, or Jewish congregation was afforded the same funding. Being the cynic that I am, my response is “Fat Chance!”

Fear of being judged intolerant allows extremists in Islam to make headway into areas that most of us deem outside the boundaries separating government and religious institutions.

Where is the wider Islamic community in all this? Dr. Zuhdi Jasser is a spokesperson that most viewers never hear. A valued contributor to FOX News Channel, this morning he pled for peace loving Muslims to step forward and decry the actions of the Boston Bombers.

Moreover, don’t listen to some commentators describe these two brothers as “boys.” The likes of them aren’t boys, they are men hell bent on killing others. The younger of the two cavalierly placed a bomb behind eight-year-old Martin Richard. He died. His little sister Jane lost a leg and his mother Denise suffered grave injuries. Thankfully, father Bill and older brother Henry were not hurt.

We cannot let their loss and the loss of both Krystle Campbell and Lü Lingzi dim as we go about our everyday activities — and Sean Collier was murdered in squad car as he guarded the MIT Campus in Boston. His loss is especially bitter to law enforcement on every American campus.

I remember vividly a column I wrote shortly after 9/11. As I reflect on its content, it is even more important to restate. It is not unreasonable to envision a nationwide series of small attacks in ordinary places of business or sports venues timed to strike fear into all of us.

Feeling safe is at the heart of our lives. We know of areas that are patently unsafe and we avoid them. We teach our children to avoid them. We warm newcomers to avoid them. Yet, the specter of violence as we go about our daily business and travel back and forth to work is alien to us.

We have allowed immigrants to this country to practice their religions freely for centuries. We welcome their houses of worship into our cities and towns and do not discriminate. Tolerating their silence is encouraging more of the violence and hatred, yet nobody in our government says a word.

As you pause to consider how religion impacts your life, I urge you to remember what faith in God imparts. What comes to mind are love and life. We love life. Knowing that it is not finite, we try to make every day count. The very idea that a faith would espouse death and mayhem is more than we can internalize. The question of the day is where is the wider Muslim community in this nation? Think about it. Complacency won’t answer it.

IN DEFENSE OF COMMON SENSE
By Hetty Gray

#142

April 8, 2013

“Underfoot”

I apologize for the long hiatus with the between column postings. It only took a millisecond to me to come to grips with the sobering statistic that heart disease is not solely a male problem. My problem is small in the wider scope of things and requires no immediate action. Monitoring will suffice until a decision is made to correct a faulty valve. Had it not been for a bout with pneumonia and the sharp intuition of a Michigan family physician, my problem would have gone undiagnosed. Thank goodness for his talent.

Scanning the web recently, I came across a map of the USA showing the counties from coast to coast that, over the past decade, have shown a marked increase in death rates over birth rates.

Speaking from personal experience, one section of the country encompassing two counties, young people continue to leave home to seek opportunities elsewhere — giving up everything and everyone they know in order to earn a living. As a result, communities and entire counties begin to mimic their mortality rates: they die.

We spend half the year in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, parts of which are identified as “Renaissance Zones”, so designated because of the demise of a number of industries. One large former employer is mining. You cannot imagine the excitement in the Western UP of Michigan as a result of Wisconsin Governor Scott Walker signing a bill to authorize mining in the northern part of bordering Wisconsin.

Michigan’s adjoining Ontonagon and Gogebic counties are far different now than they were twenty years ago when we first came to the area. Copper Mining was king and a local mine employed between 1500 and 2000 people in three shifts. When the mine closed several years ago, countless families were set adrift financially.

I remember standing in a restaurant parking lot one evening in White Pine, Michigan. Men and women stood about embracing and saying their “good-byes” as a high number of miners pulled up roots and moved to Colorado for a viable job. The mine that closed was the largest in the nation, and the area itself has been known for copper for centuries.

Just two years ago, the last paper facility on the Great Lakes closed in Ontonagon, Michigan — the county in which we have our cabin. A small town lost 300 jobs. Local stores closed. A large chain store pulled out, leaving the remaining residents with a 75-mile-plus drive one way to a comparable retailer. Thankfully, some local concerns survived. The bank is holding on, as are a few restaurants and shops. The one blessing is a large IGA grocery that anchors the community.

You need to understand that this plant did not process pulp into paper. It manufactured shipping boxes — those familiar brown cardboard boxes we see unloaded from trucks and planes or find in our mailboxes or on our porches.

Located along beautiful Lake Superior, Ontonagon is a lovely town, and to see it suffer so badly, grieves all who know it well. Why did it close? Word has it that environmentalists pushed to see that no paper plant survived. The fact that the plant made cardboard boxes and did not process paper at all, but simply turned it into a marketable product, didn’t matter to the “greenies” pushing for its closure. Bottom line? Those jobs are no more. There has been talk of reviving the facility in some form, but the bleak choice may be that the buildings will be scrapped. How sad.

Logging still comprises a sector of the economy in the Northwoods, but not to the extent that it did when millions of board feet shipped on the Great Lakes and fueled widespread construction in many states during the earl 19th and 20th centuries. That resource towered overhead. It still does.

Yet another source goes ignored by those who ally with so-called “progressive” politicians hell bent on seeing us relegated to small cars and smaller lives. We are walking on it.

Many of the younger men in this area commute for hundreds of miles west to North Dakota to drive trucks in the fracking fields. They bunk together in rented homes or maintain long-term arrangements with motels and rooming houses. They commute every few weeks, sacrificing greatly to support their families. They didn’t sit home drawing unemployment. They recognized opportunity and sought it out.

I heard a statistic the other day that shocked me. I knew domestic energy held a lot of advantage over imported sources, but I didn’t realize that it was so large. We accrue 10% benefit of every dollar on imported sources, but 80-90% on domestic ones. Why, then, do we allow our leaders to limit us to imported fossil fuels? We have enough natural gas to power our trucks and cars without enriching countries that love our money but would like nothing more than to see us die as a nation.

Today America not only hosts “The Big Five oil companies” (BP, Chevron, Conoco Philips, ExxonMobil, and Shell), but also contributes mightily to their success.

Once, scores of small and large American oil companies dotted our landscape. Many of the smaller ones are gone, swallowed up in mergers and buy-outs, yet some survive. Chevron remains an American company, headquartered in San Ramon, California. Sunoco hails from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and Exxon-Mobil — a direct descendant of John D. Rockefeller’s Standard Oil) began in 1999 as a merger of Exxon and Mobil Oil companies — claims Texas as its home. Conoco Phillips maintains a Houston headquarters,

Yet, foreign nations reap tremendous profits from us. Replacing the once-healthy American companies is BP (British Petroleum). Add Citgo (Venezuela) — now there is a friend, folks — and we simply add to foreign coffers every time we visit a gas station and fill up our vehicles. Considering the hostility in the Middle East, this is not a good idea! This is not to say that we should penalize American ownership of those franchises, but the specter of enriching foreign companies should merit some thought.

And what of our domestic resources? Well, drilling bans hamper oil fields from Alaska to both coasts and the Gulf of Mexico. A postage stamp size piece of Alaskan real estate (ANWR) holds great promise. According to ANWR’s website, geologists agree that the Coastal Plain has the nation’s best geologic prospects for major new onshore oil discoveries. And its geographical footprint? ANWR constitutes 0.0506% of Alaska’s land mass. That’s less than half of one percent. Yet, the naysayers scream “NO!”

Animals thrive beneath the above ground pipeline traversing Alaska, much to the embarrassment of the “animals rights” people who told us that entire species would disappear if the pipeline were built. So much for that idea!

The Department of Interior’s 1987 resource evaluation of ANWR’s Coastal Plain states there is a 95% chance that a ‘super field’ with 500 million barrels would be discovered. DOW also estimates that there exists a mean of 3.5 billion barrels, and a 5% chance that a large Prudhoe Bay type discovery would be made. This is nothing to sneeze at, yet the persistent “environmentalists” continue the bantering. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to go back to my bicycle.

In an article by Kevin Doran and Adam Reed, the United States has won the lottery on natural gas. The most recent estimates (2012) by the Energy Information Administration, the U.S. has some 2,214 trillion cubic feet cubic feet of technically recoverable natural gas — enough to satisfy all of our natural gas demands for the next century at current consumption levels. The extraction of shale gas, enabled by technological advances such as hydrofracturing (this is what we know as “fracking”) and horizontal drilling, has led the way in creating this largely unforeseen cornucopia. Domestic natural gas is now a cheaper fuel for electricity generation than coal — long our go-to fuel for power around the clock — and emits roughly half the greenhouse gas emissions.

Of course, stumbling blocks will occur, but isn’t it better to use what we have than buy from a volatile Middle East that turns its back on terrorists who threaten to destroy us?

When threatened with progress and huge amounts of fossil fuels available here at home, the opposition turns from common sense to the courts. It is probable, given the liberal slant of many judges, fracking opponents will make some headway — but at the expense of the public.

Had our judiciary held such views at our founding, the population would be relegated to land east of the Appalachians. No railroad would have breached those mountains and eventually connected the east and west coasts. No highways would curve through the nation. Some species would have been threatened. It is all so inane.

Every time you hear the environmental groups predicting horrific outcomes if the nation undertakes a step to improve the lives of the public at large, remember the motive underlying their incessant push.

I believe, as do many others, that these groups view people as the enemy. They hold that animals have more rights than people. People should exist as best they can without the aid of fossil fuels. Perhaps those who press such a cause should consider how they would survive. If animals come first, then what happens to the food chain? Frankly, I can’t see them hunting or fishing for protein or farming — but their assault on farming is an entirely separate issue. Our future lurks, not simply in the soil, but beneath. Think about it.

IN DEFENSE OF COMMON SENSE
By Hetty Gray

# 141

“Reflections”

February 20, 2013
POSTED TWO MONTHS LATE DUE TO ILLNESS – SORRY, READERS!

Winter has a rhythm all its own. Days seem to drag or fly, depending on your activity level; yet, even in degrees, mood seems to run our lives.

Many in the Midwest flee to the southern states to spend the winter, seeking solace on the beaches, across the golf courses, or rocking gently on inland lakes. Still more strive to hone sailing skills or to catch that really big fish.

Thankfully, not everyone ends up in the same location. If they were, congestion would be the least of their problems.

For us, and others of same mind, winter landscapes beckon. Snow covered trails host snowmobilers of all ages and cross-country ski venues tug at the heartstrings of those who grew up with Nordic heritage. Another popular vacation treat is a ride on a sleek dogsled.

Whether you dip your toes in the sand or slip them into sturdy, cold-resistant boots, a winter break from the daily grind may be just what the proverbial doctor ordered.

Recently, welcome snows fell on the northern Michigan landscape and not any too soon for beleaguered resort or restaurant owners. For the people who rely on about 10-12 weeks activity for the bulk of their annual receipts, a low snowfall can spend doom or bankruptcy.

For all the talk about climate change, one must look at the larger picture. Had there NOT been a warming period, the Great Lakes would not exist and the mountains of Michigan’s scenic Upper Peninsula would soar higher than the West’s Rockies! Since we have, in those great bodies of water, 20% of the world’s fresh water supply, a warming period can be a good thing.

Man has only at his command his intelligence and ingenuity. Mother Nature has far more in her war chest. Consider for a moment that one major volcanic eruption could change the world climate in a heartbeat and you may come to doubt the movement launched upon us by some in leadership.

Recall, please, that those pushing the global warming dangers are the same group pushing global cooling in the 1970s. Other than being a great moneymaker for a few at the top, the movement has produced more than a few dissenters. Sadly, for them, the media focus on the pro-warming crowd crushes the thousands of scientists that challenge the alleged danger.

I don’t know about you, but my teachers gave me a bit of wisdom that holds pretty steady in an uncertain world. It harkens back to Shakespeare and a well-known quote, “Me thinks she doth protest too much.” When you have a weak point, you do not welcome opposing views.

The jet stream affects North American weather in all seasons, and it is interesting that it has swung south this season bringing surprising snows to places such as El Paso, Texas. I doubt if the global warmers can blame man for that. Oh, for a moment I forgot. They blame man for everything. I wonder if that mindset bothers them when they use all the modern conveniences resulting from man’s innovation. I doubt it.

The very people criticizing the use of fossil fuels fly around in private jets with consumption that outstrips an entire contingent of private vehicles. Oh, another lapse… The rules only hold for us, not them.

As you bask in the climate of choice this winter, take a moment to reflect. Every change in climate is a form of weather. Weather changes from season to season and is cyclical. Winter fades into spring. For some of you, that wait can’t be short enough.

It would be nice to reflect back on times when common sense ruled. Perhaps — when the sputtering flame of global warming has extinguished its spark and the populace has wearied of funding inane enterprises in the name of saving the planet — someone will begin to see our world for what it is: an amazing landscapes and virtual miracles of creation that offer man opportunities only limited by his imagination. Until then, those of us who yearn for more cogent thought processes at the top of the leadership chain must suffer through the interim.

IN DEFENSE OF COMMON SENSE
By Hetty Gray

# 140

“Sad and Glad”

February 5, 2013
POSTED TWO MONTHS LATE DUE TO ILLNESS – SORRY!

For all the hype issued forth before the event, the exorbitant cost of Super Bowl Commercials hawking all kinds of consumer goods was eclipsed by a tasteful memoir featuring Paul Harvey and the forgotten 2% of the populace: the American farmers. Congratulations to Chrysler for their excellent commentary on behalf of their product as a tribute to the men and women who feed us — not to mention a good part of the world.

The Budweiser Clydesdales always hit the target. The episode with the foal growing up and spotting his owner alongside a parade route and then running down the street to find him was one of the best! The other memorable beer ad featured everyone wearing black in a restaurant or bar serving adult beverages, but the cast of characters was behaving nicely. That’s more than I can say for some of the others in the obscenely priced ads.

Aside from that piece, two were also not over the top. Hyundai, Volkswagen, and “Got Milk” were not only funny, but also to the point. On the other side of the equation, it serves as justice if the sponsors of the following commercials lose more customers than they could hope to gain.

For those of us Butler fans, it was a thrill to spot a “24” on a Butler jersey among other photos highlighting the number 24.

Audi should be ashamed of itself. Focused was a teenage boy with no respect for authority (using the principal’s parking space and smiling about it), acting like a boor on the dance floor by grabbing a teenage girl, and then — sporting a black eye from her date — happily speeding away in his parents’ car. My, my, isn’t that special? (Shades of The Church Lady!) If that weren’t enough, enter a high profile woman race driver and the bottom f the barrel when it comes to an ad.

Perhaps GoDaddy.com doesn’t know how many small children watch the Super Bowl game and its attendant advertising. The whole scenario was erotic and unnecessary — filmed to shock more than to inform. If this is their business plan, it is a poorly devised one. Then we have Hardee’s, a firm with excellent food. What possessed them to follow in the footsteps of Carl’s Jr. of California? Oh, sorry about that, Sara Underwood did both commercials. These ads were not only disrespectful but illustrate how shallow public relations people have become.

The last time I saw someone like Sara Underwood on the beach, the fare was more like a cool tall one and a salad. Downing food like that does not lead to a figure like hers, folks. Take a look at the customers in a burger joint next time you go. See a lot of girls with figures like Sara Underwood? Hardly.

And then there’s Oreo. Egad! As if it weren’t enough to lose Twinkies to a union disagreement. Now, Oreos — a tradition in many homes over generations — stoops to a commercial in which adults turn over tables like spoiled brats and destroy a library. Oh, I forgot. These computer geeks who devise these commercials don’t need libraries. They just upload books to their devices.

Well, I hope they are left TO their devices.

Don’t these people realize that they influence small children? Maybe they do. Maybe they are cultivating future customers. How sad. Yet the game left me glad, too.

As to specifics, nobody will know if the outcome would have been different minus the 30-minute-plus power failure interruption. Yet, it is what it is. I had no dog in the hunt, as they say. The smile after the game was reserved for the Tuohy family and Michael Oher who hail from Old Miss and were the featured family in Sandra Bullock’s heartwarming film “The Blind Side.”

Who says that dreams don’t come true? Oh, I know that huge amounts of money go toward the Super Bowl every year, but competition also fuels the coffers of the host city and instills a sense of pride in fans. I spite of that, it remains an American tradition that commands a huge audience and equal enthusiasm for the sport of football. Not for the faint of heart, it meshes critical decision-making and athletic ability. Would that our politicians at least use the former. Think about it.

IN DEFENSE OF COMMON SENSE
By Hetty Gray

# 139

“Prayer — A Journey”

February 11, 2013

I am a big believer in prayer. I know I must have prayed for small favors when I was a child, but as I grew to womanhood and became a wife and mother, my prayers changed.

In the middle 1960s, I watched my country torn apart by racial violence. I remember two photos vividly. The first was a group of small black girls walking to Sunday school. As I recall, a church explosion had cost precious lives. My family prayed to see all people live freely and share the American dream together.

As background, let me state a fact. My community was an oasis in that sea of unrest. Oh, there were undoubtedly small incidences of prejudice and disrespect, but — on the whole — our town and its county remained peaceful. Given that, I am sure the homes of our Negro friends and neighbors harbored uneasy feelings.

When I was five, my father hired someone to help at his woodworking business and lend a hand with heavy work in the garage and in the yard. The teenager’s name was Lawrence Brown, and he endeared himself to the entire family in short order. I can still see him walking down the driveway, full of enthusiasm and a disarming smile.

Lawrence died a few years back, but I didn’t know in time to go to the calling. Because he had moved to Cincinnati, we lost track of him. He was such a kind person, and my folks never gave race a second thought.

When I was eight, we moved to Florida, where we lived for the better part of two years. It was 1952. One day my father took me Food Fair in North Miami. As we neared the entry, a man and his children stepped off the sidewalk for us. My father stopped in his tracks and said, “You don’t have to do that for me, son.” The man smiled and glanced around at the others on the street. He replied, “That’s good of you, but I need to.” I looked up at my father, and the man slid on by, kids in tow. As he passed my father, he whispered, “Thank you sir. That means a lot.”

Once back in the car, my father stressed how wrong it was for folks to be treated hat way. I had seen the signs. I knew what he meant, and it took years for society to change such treatment.

Papa always put things simply. Here’s one statement I’ve never forgotten. “You didn’t choose who you were born, and neither did anyone else.” How true that is.

When I was a teenager, the phone rang and it was a man who wanted to apply for a job at the factory where my father was plant manager. Papa told him to come to the plant early the next morning. The man hesitated and then he said that he there was something my father needed to know.

You see, he explained “I’m colored.” “Oh,” Papa replied, “what do you mean?” The man said “Well, I’m a Negro, you know, I’m brown.” I can still see the look on Papa’s face as he continued to talk with that man. His voice was soft and gentle.

“I’m sure you glad you told me, because if you had showed up purple or green or something, I’m not sure how I what I would have done.” Later,
Papa told Mama he heard a sigh of relief in the man’s voice. And what happened? Papa hired him. Papa liked him. Papa respected him. They respected one another.

Armed with that upbringing, I set out into the world to work on my own. Because I graduated from high school at 16, I worked and went to college at night. My first job was, in many ways, my most interesting. At 18 I took a job at Larue Carter Hospital, a short-term mental hospital on the west side of
“The Medical Center.” Our secretarial pool typed up medical histories and consultations for medical students of the IU Medical School. My coworkers were lovely women, and most were black. Two were talented seamstresses. I know my sewing, too, because my grandmother was the best seamstress in my hometown and maintained quite a clientele among the town’s ladies.

It took a little while for the women to feel comfortable around me, but soon we got along as if we had been lifelong friends. Lunch chats among us were lively, and the hospital cafeteria offered really good food. I know that picking
favorites is frowned upon, but I had one at work. I will never forget her, and even today, I can close my eyes and see her face.

Her name was Omilee Chandler, and I would be tickled pink if I could see her again. She lived in a two-story frame home close to where the IU Natatorium now stands. Her mother was wheelchair bound and her brother was in the Navy. He sent money home to his family on a regular basis. Omilee’s mother was a very nice. I know because I went to their home one evening

My plan to attend a concert at Clowes Hall did not enough time to drive home, change clothes, and make it on time. A night student at Butler, I loved performances in that beautiful acoustic wonder of a building.

I was curious about Omilee’s home, and I was a bit nervous as I left the parking lot and headed about two blocks south. The neighborhood was quiet and lined with houses of similar size and shape, but theirs was neater than most. The wide boards on the front porch were cleanly swept. The windows sparkled. As I parked the car and walked toward the steps, a lace curtain parted in one of the front windows. A frail hand withdrew when I knocked on the door. Omilee greeted me and led me to a room where I could change. The house was spotless and it was clear that it was also full of love.

On a daily basis, Omilee would awaken early and see to her mother, fix lunch and place it on a low icebox shelf, and head for work. After that day, I never saw her mother again. It was easy to see how close the two of them were. It could not have been easy for Omilee, but her cheerfulness was contagious.

Omilee was single at the time, and I sometimes wonder if she ever found a man who appreciated her for the woman she was. I hope so. Odds were high that she knew peers who were domestic workers. I can’t prove it, but there were smart girls among them, too. Due to circumstance, they had no chance to go on to college or trade school. I paid my own way and went at night, but even that opportunity would have been very rare for those girls.

On a personal level, in my younger years, I often visited with women in my own community who worked in the “big houses” around town. Inevitably, I would be at a party and gravitated to the kitchen, where I chatted with ladies I consider some of the best cooks I ever knew! What’s more, I would spot them in the grocery stores, downtown at the big three-story hardware store and at the high school basketball games. My church, The First Presbyterian Church, sat about a block away from Second Baptist, the local black church.

It’s important to note that the first local black church was built in the 1800s through the efforts of the white community. Townsfolk came together with fund-raisers and dinners in order for their neighbors to have a house of worship to call their own. Many of those early Negro residents came from Kentucky, and they found in Shelby County not only a largely peaceful atmosphere, but also welcoming wider community. A world away from the Old South, such small towns among the Midwestern states proved life-changing to the newcomers. Christian values came first, ethnicity second.

The work opportunities were not only restricted to working for others, either. I cite the local tailor shop, owned and run by the same black family for nearly a hundred years. A community fixture, the shop and its personnel are well respected for dependable, excellent service and fine work.

At the heart of our county’s welcome was love for one’s fellow man. Face it, if you find yourself in dire straits and a hand reaches to pull you up, it makes no difference the color of that hand.

For those of you familiar with my first book, Net Prophet – The Bill Garrett Story, it is not news that our local high school posed no threat to its Negro (the term of the time) students. I am proud of my town and, even though isolated cases of bias and unjust actions may be found, I respect the record of its people over time.

Each domestic workingwoman in my town was a person you would have enjoyed. In this Black History Month, it is incumbent on those of us who witnessed the changes forged from segregation through integration to shout from the rooftops that each person deserves judgment solely on merit.

As I end this column, I must focus on a special lady who worked for many years as a domestic in Indianapolis in the home of parents of a dear friend. Sadly, I met her when she was nearly retirement age, so I caught just a glimpse of her wit and a taste of her culinary expertise. Her name was Epsie Mae and she made the best chicken salad in the western hemisphere! Her soft, gentle voice made you feel so good when you walked into that elegant house. My friend considered her family, and I’m sure Epsie Mae felt the same.

There was ease about her — an elegance honed over a lifetime. To me, she was more than an employee in that large home. She wore many hat — the picture of kindness… a marvelous cook… an expert in child-rearing…. Her work was not only honorable and highly appreciated, but — in the case of my friend’s family — well compensated.

Epsie Mae loved those folks, and they loved her. From childhood, the family children adored her. That special relationship was based on trust and confidence, of course, but it went further than that. It was based on love. I wonder if today’s staffers working among the “big houses” in Indianapolis share that kind of a relationship. When Epsie Mae died, a part of my friend’s family died with her. Such was their bond.

Happily, we now recognize black women in their success and we number them among our nation’s most successful professionals. Today’s black women have come a long way from the domestic jobs exposed in the movie “The Help.” Yet, the characters in that film have a lot to teach us.

If you haven’t watched it, do. Even in harsh times, faith served them well. Their journey etches yet another chapter into our American story. Faith was central to their lives. They prayed. They prayed a lot. If you haven’t prayed lately, why not do it? Prayer is journey — and one without equal.

As for me, as a Christian, my prayer today is that we — as a people and as a nation — not only seek but also achieve the peace God offers us and that we encourage others, regardless of their background, a hand up. We won’t regret it. Remember that Golden Rule. We are all God’s children. Think about it.