No instant remedy for mental illness; no instant cure for Trumpism

From The Hill, (10/14/17): Psychologists march through NY to call for Trump's removal

Let's talk about President Trump's mental stability -- or lack thereof.

It's too easy to label Trump as crazy. He may be unstable. He may be dumb, as is old prof at The Wharton School called him the other day. He may be an asshole.

But the name-calling concerns those of us who deal with mental illness on a daily basis. I am a normal guy. But I do have a case of depression handed down by generations of Irish peasants. I live in the suicide capital of the nation. Depression has many roots.

Our daughter is severely mentally ill. As I write this, she is on a 72-hour psych hold at a Colorado hospital. She went in for an ECT treatment. The docs were alarmed by her mutterings during the treatment, so thought they should keep an eye on her through the weekend. This is not unusual. Millions of Americans get put on these holds every year. A mentally ill person might be brought into the local ER. Maybe he was sleeping in an alley. Maybe he was yelling obscenities at a policeman. Maybe she tried to commit suicide and someone intervened. Many reasons. Your local ER crew would tell you stories, if they could. Mental illness is a problem everywhere. Lest you think otherwise, here are some handy stats provided by the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill (NAMI):

Approximately 1 in 5 adults in the U.S.—43.8 million, or 18.5%—experiences mental illness in a given year.  

Approximately 1 in 25 adults in the U.S.—9.8 million, or 4.0%—experiences a serious mental illness in a given year that substantially interferes with or limits one or more major life activities. 

People in the throes of a mental health emergency may get held in one of the four mental health rooms at CRMC Hospital. They may be transferred to Behavioral Health at CRMC East. They may be held for 72 hours, as the law allows. They may be held longer. Some go to the Wyoming State Hospital in Evanston. Others are transferred to community mental health centers such as Wyoming Behavioral Institute in Casper. Others may go to a local halfway house managed by Peak Wellness. There are options. Families often are stuck trying to figure out the health care system, especially whether treatment is covered by insurance. Or not. For family members caught in the insurance maze, life may come to resemble some of the worst scenes from "Brazil" or a short story by Kafka. Our health insurance system is a nightmare. Trump and his cronies are making it worse. What can one say about an unhinged leader attempting to snatch insurance from the ill and mentally ill? You need to call on literary and celluloid references for something like this. We find ourselves in the midst of a cataclysm. We turn to poetry and books for solace and possibly some answers. This is a marvelous time for creative people. A bad time for the mentally ill.

Alas, art will not save us. Civic engagement is what's needed. Your mentally ill family member is too busy negotiating the health care maze to be much help. The rest of us need to act for ourselves and one other person that we care about. Speak up. Write letters. Go to city council meetings. Vote, please vote. We dug ourselves a hole. A "Snake Pit," if you will. A black hole. Darkness at noon. Bedlam. All these references apply to America's current unsettled state.

Let's not call Trump crazy. Our system has experienced a nervous breakdown. We are the cure.

The Summer of Love; the Winter of Our Discontent

I laughed when I saw the cover of the Aug./Sept. issue of AARP: The Magazine. Over a Peter Max original illustration was the header: "Celebrate the Summer of Love, 50th anniversary, 1967-2017."

I was almost as far away from San Francisco as a 16-year-old could get in the summer of 1967. In the waning days of summer, I was about to become a junior at Father Lopez Catholic High School in Daytona Beach, Florida.

That summer, my classmates thought that I was moving to a new life in Cincinnati, Ohio. My father was already in Cincy, crunching numbers at the General Electric Works. He moved as did so many others -- Florida's aerospace industry had come to a grinding halt.

But what about the moon landing, the one that was still two years in the future? Much of the prep work was finished. NASA and its many subcontractors (GE among them) didn't need all the engineers and statisticians and accountants that they had brought to Central Florida for the task. An engineer friend of my Dad was pumping gas. Others found tourist-industry jobs so they could continue to enjoy the splendors of The Sunshine State.

Two of my friends, Rob and Ann, had already decamped with their families to Schenectady, N.Y., another big base for GE, the one where Kurt Vonnegut once toiled in PR ("Deer in the Works"). Classmates had thrown us a going-away party. Good-bye and good luck!

I was registered to attend another Catholic high school, this one an all-boys school in Cincy that I was certain to hate. I was not a kid who made friends easily. I would not make the basketball team, as the new school was big and had a hot-shot varsity already in place. If I ever met any girls, Catholic or otherwise, they would ignore me. My good grades were due to take a nose dive and I was destined for failure. This was my dark side speaking, teen angst on overdrive. If I wrote poetry then -- and kept it -- it would be something to read. But I was a jock and a surfer and my type didn't write emo poems or any kind of poems. Or so I thought.

My mother worked at a local hospital and still had a two-year-old at home, along with eight other kids. We couldn't sell our house. All the buyers were on their way back north. Prices plummeted. My father said that he missed his wife Anna and his nine kids. Dad left me his 1960 Renault Dauphine so I could take my siblings to school and basketball practice and anywhere else they had to go. I was delighted to have a car and a license to go on the many dates I imagined that I would have.

After six months, my father surprised us all when he decided to leave GE and try to get a job in central Florida. My future was saved.

It wasn't easy for my father. He was a quiet man. I can imagine his life as a bookish professor or a secluded monk, a man without a huge family and all the pressures that brings. As a kid, he spent his time going to the library and building crystal radio sets in his basement. He wasn't a striver or a climber, which doomed him from the start in the corporate world. I know, as I spent five years as a corporate man, twenty-five years in government. I am an introvert but learned how to be a public person. I was tasked with supporting my family. I did that. But there always is a cost, and you may not know about it until you are retired.

My Dad returned to Florida late that summer. When school started, he was looking for a job. My mom worked as a nurse at a local hospital. We were together again.

What was life like in August 1967 for the average American big family? My parents never had enough money. Both worked, a rarity in 1967. Still, it was never enough. Most of the people we knew were in the same boat.

The Summer of Love? To us, hippies were an anomaly. I thought they were cool but their antics were foreign to me. Sex was dreamed of but an impossible dream, to take a line from a popular 1960s Broadway musical. We sweated and groped in the back seats of cars. There were public school girls who went all the way, or so the public school boys told us. But that wasn't for us.

Remember that this was pre-Disney Florida. Before the boom that caused the founding of dozens of fantasy worlds and caused everyone in Providence and Newark to relocate to Daytona and Sarasota. If it was a feature at Disney, it would be called "A Whole Different World World."

It's a Whole Different World World
It's a Whole Different World World
Segregated schools, no sex on the beaches
Swamps teeming with gators and leeches
It's a Whole Different World World after all

Don't get me wrong -- we admired those people engaging in unbridled sex and drug-taking in The Haight. We might have followed the lead of our parents and cursed those damn hippies. We were fascinated and jealous at the same time. It just seemed so foreign.

Happy 50th anniversary to all of you who engaged in the Summer of Love and lived to tell the tale.

Summer of '67. We all have our stories....

Music, fiction-out-loud, and the company of friends add to Eclipse Day 2017 in Casper

I joined a million-plus people watching the eclipse in Wyoming on Aug. 21.

I almost missed it. In 2015, when Casper began promoting Eclipse 2017, I thought it silly to plan so far ahead for an event that lasted two minutes.

I see now that Casper had the right idea. Wyoming’s “Second City” was right in the path of totality. Cheyenne, the Capital City, was not. When the eclipse passed my house in north Cheyenne, it would be 97 percent of full. As it turns out, that three percent meant a lot.

On Memorial Day weekend, Chris, Annie and I journeyed up to Guernsey State Park to find a good spot to view the eclipse. Campsites were already booked for eclipse weekend. We got on the waiting list. We also bought a day pass for Aug. 21. That was enough, I thought.

In June, Carolyn Deuel of Casper’s ARTCORE called and asked me to participate in the Music and Poetry series held at Metro Coffee Company. I was set to appear with a young musician, Ethan Hopkins, known around town as The Ukulele Kid. That sounded fun. I planned to read a chapter from my new novel set in 1919 Colorado. The Roaring Twenties was a boom time for ukuleles. Maybe Ethan would know a song from the era. Then Carolyn dropped the bomb, asking me to come up for the evening of Aug. 21. A new opportunity presented itself.

ARTCORE would put me up in a hotel as it always did. The bad news was there was no room at the inn. No room anywhere. She suggested that I arrange a home stay with one of my old pals in the arts world. I made many trips to Casper in the past 15 years. Many were planning sessions for the Casper College Literary Conference and the Equality State Book Festival that grew out of it. I grew close to many fine people in Casper who loved the book and the written word and an occasional beer at the old Wonder Bar. It takes a village, as a noble Democrat once said. It also takes a village to plan a big event such as a literary conference or book festival. I knew that, which was why it was such a treat to find a group who wanted to launch an event that would involve years of planning and last for only a few days. You know, something like an eclipse festival only with books.

This story has a happy ending. Chris and I stayed with our old friend, Liberal Twit of Casper. That’s not her real name, but one we use because she is a private person who spent most of her career at a college library and now spends retirement reading, studying history, and cooking.

I am Liberal Twit of Cheyenne. A Republican librarian gave us both that name when we objected to Lynne Cheney headlining our first book festival in 2006. Lynne is a Casper native who writes children’s books. She once ran the National Endowment for the Humanities in the noted swampland that Donald Trump threatened to drain. Dick also is from Casper. I think he wrote a book, “Into the Quagmire,” or something like that. The federal building in Casper is named after his federal self. So is the playing field of his old high school. We should name Iraq War Two after him too.

We two liberal twits have been causing trouble almost as long as the Iraq War has lasted. We believe we have worked in the fields of the Lord while Dick & Co. labored in one – or maybe all -- of the circles of Hell. That’s just the kind of thing you would expect a Liberal Twit to say.

Chris and I watched the eclipse in Liberal Twit’s backyard. It was very quiet. The moon gobbled the sun bit by bit. We watched through our ISO-approved eclipse glasses. The morning grew quieter as it grew darker. When the moon blotted out the sun we knew it was a cosmic event and not some sign of God’s wrath.  That’s what you get from working in libraries and arts councils and reading lots and lots of books. I am not a better than anyone else because of it, just different. I value that difference.

After the eclipse passed, we were all a bit bedazzled. It was cosmic, yes, but also spiritual.

That afternoon, I set out for downtown. My goal was to buy a Zak Pullen eclipse T-shirt. The festival was still humming downtown. I parked blocks away and walked to the new Daniel Street Plaza. A band played. Vendors vended. Beer purveyors purveyed (it was too early for me). I found Zak’s T-shirt but the vendor only had small sizes. Someone told me to go to the Nicolaysen Art Museum’s gift shop. I walked the six blocks on a hot afternoon. The Nick was closed for a private party – it’s usually closed on Mondays anyway. I returned to my car by way of the Second Street festival. The new plaza is a great spot for concerts and gatherings. Designers put in artificial turf instead of grass. It’s comfortable enough, but doesn’t the artificial stuff absorb heat during hot summer days? People were having a good time – that’s all that matters.

A band played at the Yellowstone Garage, a restaurant bar that I’ve never been in. This area is called the Yellowstone District. Old warehouses are now sites of bistros and ART 321, among other venues. Casper seems to be making more headway with its downtown than Cheyenne is with ours. Its work-in-progress seems further along than the one we got going on.

Ethan and I drew a good crowd for that night’s performance. Ethan’s entire family was on hand. They are a lively bunch and gave the show a jolt of energy. Ethan’s original music is wonderful – he’s already blazing a trail as a songwriter. He did some covers too.

All the chairs were filled by the time I got to the stage. Thirsty people wandered off the street and stuck around for music and poetry. Or prose, in my case. I read the first chapter of my novel-in-progress. The chapter has been worked over by me, my writing group, a writing friend, and me again. I even timed the delivery on my smartphone which, indeed, is very smart. People paid attention – that’s what you want, and all you can ask for.

After a beverage break, in which the espresso machine got rolling again, I read a short story from the anthology, “Blood, Water, Wind, and Stone: An anthology of Wyoming Writers.” The story, “George Running Poles,” is set in Riverton and features two Rez teens skipping school. One of them has a dark secret. You can find the anthology at your local bookstore or order it online from Sastrugi Press in Jackson.

The next morning, I dropped Chris off at the YMCA for a workout and I proceeded to The Nic to get my Pullen T-shirt. I got the last extra-large size. I then saw Aaron and Jenny Wuerker's exhibit of landscapes. I got a chance to meet them, too, as they were on hand to take down the show. Some of the big canvasses were going to exhibits in Denver; others return to the Wuerker's studio in Buffalo. 

It was a long drive home, but at least we avoided the gridlock on Eclipse Day. These were mostly day trippers from points south (Colorado) and many had to get back to their routines on Tuesday, which I did not. Over the course of the last week, I’ve heard tales of people taking eight to ten hours for what usually is a three-to-five-hour drive. Even those folks said that the eclipse was worth it.

And it was. 

This train is bound for glory -- maybe

Chris and I helped our city celebrate its 150th birthday this week.

One hundred and fifty years ago this summer, Col. Gen. Grenville Dodge staked out the city of Cheyenne on the windswept southeast Wyoming prairie. It featured Crow Creek and its consistent water supply lined with a few hardy trees. More importantly, it was right along the path that Union Pacific had chosen for its transcontinental railroad. The plains tribes already used the gangplank of the Laramie Range to cross the mountains. They followed the herds and the weather.  The railroad was just trying to link up with the Central Pacific on its way east from the West Coast.

Just as it did for native peoples, the Rocky Mountains presented one of the biggest challenges to the railroad. Terrain and weather presented problems. Cheyenne was founded in July and winter comes early. Cheyenne became a base to build the highest elevation section of the railroad, and base camp to build bridges to cross canyons. It spent more time as a Hell on Wheels site that any other railroad town.

Cheyenne still is a railroad town. It is the state capital. The intersection of two interstate highways. One of these -- I-80 -- follows the rails except when it comes to Elk Mountain, the most-closed section of interstate in the U.S. every winter. All of us who have done time driving I-80 curse the Elk Mountain stretch. Beautiful and scenic in July. Cringeworthy in January.

Cheyenne has lots of celebrate. It shouldn't be here, as the weather isn't the most temperate. Its tomato growers are a persistent bunch, always coming up with creative ways to plant and ripen our fruit in an 90-day growing season, even 100 or 110 during good years. We have to watch out for late frosts, early frosts, freezing winds in June that kill the flowers, July hail that rips the plants to shreds. Still, Cheyenne is home to a huge Master Gardeners program and, soon, the most impressive botanic gardens conservatory for a city of its size in the U.S.

Thus summer marks a milestone for Cheyenne. What will it look like in 150 years? I won't be around, but someone will be growing tomatoes in my neighborhood. It may be an android tending an indoor hydroponic set-up. But maybe not. Humans like to grow things. That's how we survived all of these years.

I can envision a dystopian version of our future. Since we are high and dry, many coastal Americans will flock here, possibly sparking a refugee crisis that alarms the U.N. Trump may start a nuclear war. That will wipe Cheyenne off the map as we are host to the largest assemblage of nuclear missiles in creation. Cheyenne may end up being a slave labor pool for oligarchs. Diseases may wipe out all humans, clearing the way for a generation of giant bugs such as those seen in "Starship Troopers," filmed back in Wyoming's heyday at Hell's Half Acre. Wyoming has a long relationship with the devil and his minions. Devils Tower, of course, and the original white man's name for Yellowstone, Colter's Hell.

Dystopian versions for the world are big right now. Perhaps that will continue. I tend to think that the future is a mix of Utopia/Dystopia. Just like the present. You can have a great party for your hometown even while a lunatic sits in the driver's seat. We don't know where this train is headed, or if we'll arrive safely. But darn it, we can party hearty along the way.

Happy birthday, Cheyenne!

UPDATE 8/13: When reading the Wyoming Tribune-Eagle's "Cheyenne at 150," I discovered that I had demoted Gen. Grenville Dodge to colonel. I corrected that mistake. Along the way, I researched Dodge and found him a fascinating character. I also wondered why there is no Dodge Street in Cheyenne. Many other people important to the city's founding have namesake streets. Why no Dodge?

We hear once again from Mitch McConnell's BFF

Nothing happened in Washington D.C. this week. Absolutely nothing.

I did receive a nice note from Sen./Dr. John  Barrasso, Mitch McConnell's BFF. More of the same gobbledygook. I reprint it here as a public service:

Dear Michael, 

Thank you for taking the time to contact me. I appreciate hearing your thoughts on health care. 

There is no question that there are significant challenges related to health care in our nation. During my time practicing medicine in Wyoming, I saw these problems firsthand through my own patients and their families. One of my top priorities in the Senate is improving the quality and lowering the cost of care for all patients. 

Right now, the country is engaged in a serious and important debate regarding the future of Obamacare. As I travel around Wyoming, family after family keep telling me they are paying much more and have fewer choices for health insurance since Obamacare passed. For some of these families, the cost of Obamacare is more than their mortgage and the high deductibles make it burden to actually see the doctor. For these folks, the law is clearly not working. I told these families I would vote to repeal this law -- I kept my promise. 

With that being said, Congress must do more than repeal this failed law. We need real reforms that will actually deliver on the promises made during the Obamacare debate. First, we must focus on lowering the cost of insurance and the cost of care. Since 2013, premiums in Wyoming are up 107%. This is simply not sustainable or affordable. Second, we need to give states back the authority to regulate health insurance. Simply put, Washington bureaucrats do not understand how care is delivered in Wyoming. Finally, we need to give patients more control over their health care dollars. Instead of sending more and more money to insurance companies, patients need to be empowered to choose the right care that works for their situation.

Thank you again for sharing your views with me. I value your input. 

John Barrasso, M.D.
United States Senator

BTW, Sen./Dr. Barrasso. You kept your promise. That's the problem. You kept your promise to try and dismantle Obamacare yet you offered no viable replacement. We will remember your promises -- and your actions -- at election time.

And just when have you been traveling around Wyoming. Where? You have not held a single town hall on this issue.

Looking for some post-ecliptic music and prose in Casper on Aug. 21?

Musician Ethan Hopkins and writer Mike Shay

I will be on stage with musician Ethan Hopkins on Eclipse Day, Aug. 21, 7:30 p.m., at Metro Coffee in Casper. This is the final outing of the summer for the "Music and Poetry" series sponsored by ARTCORE, Casper's vibrant local arts agency. The title is slightly misleading. I will be reading prose, not poetry, as I need many more words to express myself than the average (even above-average) poet. I will be reading from my novel-in-progress, "Zeppelins Over Denver," which has Wyoming characters in it but takes place in the Denver of 1919. I will share some excerpts here in the month or so leading up to the event. I also want to give you some tastes of Ethan's music. Take a look and listen of this vid clip from Ethan's web site: https://www.facebook.com/ethanhopkinsmusic/videos/1824071751243851/

Casper will be in the cone of totality for the solar eclipse. During the day, I will be somewhere in that cone of totality. But at night, I will be in the spotlight at Metro.

To get tix to the ARTCORE event, go to http://www.artcorewy.com/tickets.php. Also check out ARTCORE's upcoming season. Excellent, as always.

Denver Comic Con -- an unexpected place to find some good advice on literary fiction

Chris and I accompanied our Millennial daughter Annie to Denver Comic Con on Saturday.

"Accompanied" might be a bit of a stretch, since she ditched her Boomer parents as soon as it was feasible. This wasn't too hard as she already had her entrance ID so just got into the line surging toward the Colorado Convention Center. Chris had to find a shady spot to test her blood glucose levels while I searched for the "will call" window. I was on a mission to trade in my paper tickets for entrance badges. I walked around the entire Con Center which looks a bit like a starship at rest, one with a gigantic blue bear staring inside. It could be an alien bear, an anime bear, a bear that is also a shapeshifter, a perfect disguise for an "Aliens"-style alien, or one from "The Predator" series, or those rapacious aliens in "Independence Day" or "War of the Worlds."

The heat may have been getting to me. I kept yearning to be in the AC with a cool Brewt, the official beer of Comic Con from Breckenridge Brewery. But first, I had to crack the code that would let me inside. I located various long lines, none of which were the correct ones. I finally found the "will call" line when I saw others of the dispossessed using their paper tickets as fans. The line moved fast as it was mostly in the shade of one of the DCC's giant wings. Twenty minutes later, I had our badges and eventually located Chris and we finally were admitted to the inner sanctum.

I was unofficially the oldest person in the building. Even veteran actor Kate Mulgrew, whom we heard speak in the BellCo Theatre, is younger than me by a few years, if my arithmetic is correct. Captain Janeway has transformed herself into the dastardly prison den mother in "Orange is the New Black." Her Russian accent is pretty good, which may hold her in good stead with our new Overlord, Vlad Putin. Mulgrew is the oldest of eight in an Irish-Catholic family (I am the oldest of nine). That wasn't the only thing we had in common. She said that reading is the basis for success. She is working on her second book while ensconced in her house in Galway reading through the Irish masters: Joyce, Trevor, O'Brien. This summer, she is even tackling Proust, which earns her major brownie points in the literary world.

Janeway is still the only female captain in the long-running "Star Trek" series. She hears rumors that one of the top-ranking officers in the latest series (set to debut this fall) is female. But she is not the captain. Mulgrew is a big Hillary fan which automatically makes her a big non-fan of whatever alien life form now occupies the White House. That's as close as she got to politicking which, she said, speakers were warned to steer clear of. As if....

People watching was the best use of my time. So many cosplayers from so many different books and TV shows and movies. One person was dressed as the Lego captain. He must have been hot in there. Princess Leia continues to be popular, as are various Trek characters. Annie is a big "Doctor Who" fan and there were plenty of doctors and even a few Daleks. One of my faves was a hoodie-wearing Donnie Darko and the Big Scary Rabbit that haunts his life in the movie. We ran into some theatre friends from Cheyenne all costumed up, including two female Ghostbusters.

We lunched on soggy overpriced sandwiches. We went to one of the NASA panels that addressed "The Science of Star Trek." The speakers quizzed us on the feasibility of Trek items, including communicators, transporters and artificial intelligence. Communicators were an obvious yes but a big no on the molecule-rearranging transporter ever seeing the light of day. This dooms my dream of someday avoiding the drive from Cheyenne to Denver. I would trade the possibility of misplaced molecules with driving I-25 any day.

My day ended with an authors' track panel entitled "Start Short, Get Good." The five published panelists spoke of writing short stories as a way to break into the sci-fi lit world. Catherynne M. Valente, author of "The Orphan's Tales," said this: "It's always been a hustle to get short fiction published." And this: "It's a struggle to get people to read short stories who also are not aspiring writers." As a test, she had audience members raise their hands who read short stories -- the majority of us complied. Then she asks for a show of hands of aspiring writers -- many raised hands. That got a laugh.

This continues a theme that I have heard for decades at everything from national AWP conferences to Wyoming Writers, Inc., conferences to book festivals. The question is: Are you buying and reading the work of the authors you like? That patronage is crucial to the survival of small presses and literary magazines.

Michael Poore ("Up Jumps the Devil") spoke up for the survival of these small markets. He said that he publishes some of his "character-driven stuff" in the literary markets.

"Genre fiction has lots of rules," Poore said. "In a literary story, you can get away with more. People tell me that they read my stories but don't like stories that don't end."

That sounds like a great description if literary fiction -- stories that don't end. I remember my insurance salesman uncle saying that he liked my first book of stories but was surprised that they had no end. Slice of life. Minimalism. Whatever term you use, it's shorthand for literary fiction which doesn't always coexist with genre fiction. Poore, on the other hand, seems to live in both worlds. He has published stories in some of the best litmags (Agni, Glimmer Train, Fiction) and sci-fi mags such as Asimov's. His story "The Street of the House of the Sun," was selected for The Year's Best Nonrequired Reading 2012, edited by Dave Eggers.

So, by the end of the day, I at last has found my tribe. These panelists face the same challenges I do, which warmed the cockles of my heart and made me very, very thirsty.

I went in search of Brewt.

Our new overlords in the West will offer scads of jobs but little hope

Much wailing and gnashing of teeth lately about the state's brain drain.

No, we're not talking about the sinking IQ levels of WY GOP legislators. We're talking about the exodus of smart young people. The recent high school graduates. The grads of our community colleges and lone four-year state university. Some will establish lives in Wyoming. Most will depart for jobs and adventures in other states. other countries. Parents urge our young ones to fly from the nest. It's done with more than a little sadness accompanied by a dash of hope. People seek out jobs in metro areas, and Wyoming is sadly lacking in those. I read an article in The Denver Post that said local unemployment numbers were closing in on zero. Zero? Colorado's unemployment rate of 2.3 percent in April was the lowest in the nation for the second straight month.

In case your geography isn't up to snuff, Colorado borders Wyoming. The Colorado border is 13.9 highway miles from my front door. I can be in Old Town Fort Collins in 45 minutes, about the length of an average rush-hour commute in Denver. When my daughter Annie was living in Aurora, a Denver suburb, I could get to her house in less than two hours. My trips were made during retiree hours, between 9 a.m. and 3 p.m. on weekdays. I sometimes was trapped in evening traffic, which was no fun. Friday evening is the worst. Beware if it snows or hails. Denver traffic jams is how I discovered The Colorado Sound on 105.5 FM. Wonderful indie music with an emphasis on Colorado bands and no commercials.

There's a trade-off, see? Can't have low unemployment without high population. And you can't have low unemployment if your economy is heavily dependent on fossil fuel extraction. Good jobs abound when those industries prosper. Wyoming loses jobs and population when that sector goes south.

What about those jobs that used to be called "white collar?" We have them, mainly in government. Of course, our enlightened GOP legislators have responded to the downturn in the usual way -- cutting state government. Trump and his minions are doing the same on the federal level. Fewer jobs are the result. Americans looks elsewhere for work. We have no real tech sector, although there are some bright spots. Tourism continues to be hot, especially during this Total Eclipse year. But those sites and resources that cater to travelers are being hit by cutbacks. Entrepreneurs do their best to start small businesses and local bistros. But again, they are faced with declining population in the state that's already the sparsest populated in the U.S.

But there is one bright spot, according to Jim Dobson's June 10 article in Forbes, "The Shocking Doomsday Maps of the World and the Billionaire Escape Plans." Billionaires are buying up chunks of land in the Intermountain West. They are using the land as an escape from the coming apocalypse. Lest you think this land is mostly in resort areas such as Jackson and Aspen, think again. The buyers want farm land and acres for cattle grazing and accessible coal mines so they can be self-sufficient when the shit hits the fan (as shown in the article's accompanying maps). Who will do the work on these enclaves? You and me, the less affluent residents of the West. We will be like the serfs of old, farming the fields from dawn to dusk for the feudal lord. The menfolk and kidfolk will scrape coal from Powder River Basin mines and transport it by mule cart to the coal-burning private power plants which no longer have to worry about pollution controls. Our womenfolk will make and serve meals to the lord in his fortified castle. All of it will be guarded by a private security force trained in Iraq and Afghanistan and any other wars we can conjure up with in the next several hundred years.

So, there is hope for our sons and daughters and grandchildren. Jobs galore created by our new feudal overlords.

No hope but lots of jobs.

Republicans are aghast that anger rages in America

Republicans are aghast that someone would be so angry as to take a shot at Congressional reps practicing for a baseball game in Alexandria, Virginia.

I am aghast that they would be aghast at this turn of events.

Republicans and their Fox News mouthpiece have been stoking American anger for decades.  This led to the simmering stew of hatred that begat Trump.

A Republican rep says that America is "fraying around the edges" earlier this week on CBS This Morning. And who is responsible for that turn of events? A Bernie Sanders fan who was a little frayed around the edges, frayed enough to go shoot up a baseball field? He was angry. Many are angry. And they have guns.

What do these Republicans expect? They stoked grassroots anger for eight years during the Obama administration. And the recipients of this barrage of hate were not all Republicans. A fair number of Democrats and Independents watch Fox, listen to Rush Limbaugh, and voted for Trump.

So who's to blame? All of us. For inciting hatred and letting it slide -- or stoking it with snark. For not countering hatred with love and tolerance. For not doing something to make the world a better place.

I am as guilty as you are. I have been poking fun at conservatives online since 2005. For eight years, I assumed that we were a civilized nation with a minority of ignorant, regressive haters. I was smug. I made fun of those Obama haters who carried misspelled signs to Tea Party rallies. I even invented a character called Tea Party Slim, whom I imbued with the many TP utterings I heard at rallies and on the Internet.

All of that only stoked more hatred and resentment. Our leader, Barack Obama, provided an example for us to look up to. Meanwhile, he did little or nothing to stem the tide of resentment. Obama didn't fight hard enough for the America we wanted. Neither did I.

It's game on now. The enemy is obvious. Our government is trying to kill us and our planet. For the second time in my 66 years, I know who to fight. During Vietnam, my government wanted to kill all of its young men in pursuit of a rotten Cold War policy in Vietnam. Our government would rather kill its sons than admit it was wrong. That's why the trauma of Vietnam will never end. Let's hope Ken Burns informs us of the real reasons behind Vietnam this fall on PBS. I am not optimistic.

Now our government wants to maximize riches and marginalize the rest of us. We are on our way to be serfs, a return to the Dark Ages of Europe. Ironically, Europe is experiencing a golden age.

Response is to #Resist with the tools we have. We have wit and grit. #Resist on your own and with like-minded people. Marginalize those who urge violence. Many of those people are not our friends and may be insurgents in our midst. Now that an apparent anti-Trump person shot up a baseball field and some Republican reps, look for law enforcement to plant operatives in #Resist groups. It may have happened already. This sounds paranoid. Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean someone isn't following you. Read some of the first-hand account of the antiwar and Civil Rights movements. They often were the targets of COINTELPRO units of the FBI. They were provocateurs who knew that to turn a protest violent invited a violent response from the police. No better way to discredit dirty hippies than to show them getting beat up by the police. The 1968 Police Riot in Chicago was caused by those dirty hippies (and Yippies) that were getting bloodied by Mayor Daley's Finest. At least that's how Middle America saw it and turned to Tricky Dick and Kissinger for a solution for Vietnam.

You saw how that worked out.

Angry Americans have now turned to a spoiled rich boy who gets his way because the Republicans in Congress have fallen into lockstep behind him. Shame on them. Shame on us for letting it happen.

#Resist

Saturday morning round-up: Of betrayal, downed tree limbs and fractured history

BREAKING: Trump still president. the world mourns (and guffaws)

ON "THE KEEPERS" AND BETRAYAL: I have been trying to write about the Netflix docuseries "The Keepers" for the past week. I've written plenty but can't seem to plumb my true feelings on betrayal and the Catholic Church. In 1969, was a Baltimore nun murdered because she threatened to expose a priest and his police buddies for their sexual abuse of students at a Catholic girls school? I don't know the answer, as I've seen only two episodes of "The Keepers" and may not watch the remaining five. I have watched other true crime shows such as "The People vs. O.J., Simpson" and "Amanda Knox." I read hard-boiled detective novels by the score. "Chinatown" is one of my favorite movies. Want to talk about betrayal? "Forget it, Jake, it's Chinatown." The Keepers" has affected me in a strange way. The murder took place in the year I graduated from a Catholic high school. I recognize the nuns and priests and female students from their photos in the school annual. I know how we respected and feared the nuns and priests. I know the heavy hand of the hierarchy that raised me and how it still operated when dogged reporters blew the lid off of the Boston clergy abuse scandals (as seen in "Spotlight"). It could have happened at my school. It didn't, as far as I know. But that's only as far as I know. Forget it, Mike, it's not Chinatown -- it's the Catholic Church.

AFTER THE DELUGE: Note to the City of Cheyenne -- I still have tree limbs out front waiting to be picked up and shredded. The limbs came down in the big May 18-19 snowstorm, which dumped three feet of heavy, wet snow. Three big limbs detached from my elm. With a handsaw, I cut them into shorter lengths and dragged them to my front yard. Now I hear that the city may not get to them for several more weeks. The brush piles will make nice birthing centers for local rabbits. My cat already seeks shelter there and birds land and perch. I may soon turn it into a public work of art. If that happens, you won't be able to touch it due to my artistic license, which never expires.

BOOKS AND HISTORY: If you think our politics are dysfunctional, you should read history. Reading is FUN-damental. Tell that to our president. I am reading "The Proud Tower" by Barbara Tuchman. The subtitle, "A Portrait of the World Before the War, 1890-1914," speaks volumes. The world was a mess before The Great War and possessed all of the elements that led us into the carnage of 1914-1918. Even though the book is packed with names and details and is a bit daunting at times, tension trembles on each page because we know what is coming. The world sets up its own disaster. It is traumatized by the results. We know the antiwar poetry of Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon. But what propelled these British gentlemen to march off to battle, go home for shell-shock treatment, and then return, even when they suspected what the end would be? We are combative mammals that, apparently, never learn. If you think that we do, watch "War Machine" on Netflix. This recounts the reasons that we still are in Afghanistan, the "graveyard of empires."

DANCIN' ON THE PLAZA: Last night, Chris and I hung out at Depot Plaza with other music lovers to hear sounds from Soul-X and JJ and Wilito's Final Touch. Great music -- and free. Fun to dance to. We especially liked the Santana set by Final Touch. I moved around while Chris actually danced because she can. It was dark, so I felt secure that the crowd was not watching me but intent on the fine musicians on the lighted stage. This is summer, stuff we eagerly await all fall and winter and spring. Thanks to the Wyoming Tribune-Eagle for sponsoring Soul-X. Thanks for the organizers of the Cheyenne Hispanic Festival for bringing in Final Touch and other bands that will play at the plaza today. And thanks to the beer vendors, who staffed taps for the usual suspects and ones for Modelo, Stone IPA and New Belgium Watermelon/Lime ale.  Variety -- that's the ticket. I still have some beer tickets. See you next Friday.

Read it all -- you might be a winner on Jeopardy

The history teacher from Texas won the $100,000 Teachers' Challenge on Jeopardy last week. He clinched the championship because he knew that New Orleans was the U.S. city that dropped off the top-50 cities list but reappeared 10 years later. He permanently moved into first place the day before because he because he knew the author of a very famous book. This very famous book, written in 1936, is 1,037 pages long and the only novel published by the author in her lifetime. You won't find it on any literary lists, mainly because it is basically a southern romance. Not only that. If it doesn't exactly glorify the southern cause in The Civil War, it does portray members of the KKK as brave protectors of southern womanhood.

You know the answer: "Gone with the Wind" by Margaret Mitchell of Atlanta. A big potboiler of a book that was transformed into a big potboiler of a movie in 1939. The book sold well in its time, but it really took off when the star-studded movie came out. The movie is considered a classic. The book, not so much. That's probably why the two English teachers in the Jeopardy semifinals did not know the answer. They guessed Edith Wharton and Jane Austen. Very smart modern women who knew two members of the American Literary Canon. But didn't know a best-selling author who died too young when run over by a car in downtown Atlanta in 1949.

These two English teachers didn't know GWTW because schoolkids don't read it. I know why (see reasons above) but still, they are all missing out on something good. Have you ever read a big, fat, bloated novel? Of course you have. James Michener excelled at these. In "Hawaii," it takes the reader a 100 pages to get to the spot where human beings actually appear on ancient Hawaii. In "Centennial," set in my part of the country, the author takes his time reaching the arrival of Native Americans to pre-state Colorado and Wyoming. Neither of these books are part of the canon, although you might find both in history classes or, worse, in multicultural studies classes that exhibit books of "cultural appropriation."

Political correctness rears its ugly head.

My liberal self knows that the whole anti-PC movement is an excuse by racists to be racists, misogynists to be misogynists, Trump to be Trump, etc. Still, we are caught up in a ridiculous fight over who has the right to speak for who. Is it valid for a white writer such as myself to speak in the voice of a black woman or a Native American? Yes, because writers have the freedom to write from any POV, including non-human and intergalactic ones. What's that Harlan Ellison story told from the POV of a planet-exploring dog? Fantasy and sci-fi are filled with mythical characters who come alive in the hands of skilled writers. We live in an era of fantastic beasts and superheroes. Not enough of these writers are women or people of color. But that is changing, albeit slowly. The push is on for a balanced perspective, pushed by the country's changing demographics and tastes

But back to "Gone with the Wind." My grandfather Shay boasted that he read GWTW once a year. He was not  a Southerner but an Iowa farm boy who served in the Great War and came home to be a Denver insurance salesman for 60 years. My father was a GWTW fan, which is probably how I came upon the book, sitting forlornly in Dad's library after he and my mother finished with it. I was thrilled by the war narrative but rushed through the mushy stuff, hoping to find sex scenes, but in vain. Meanwhile, I was trying to get my hands on Terry Southern's "Candy." A copy was circulating through Sister Theresa's eighth grade class at Our Lady of Perpetual Chastity Grade School. The girls bogarted the book, which led to the ringleaders being discovered and forbidden from graduating with the class. Some of the boys read it too, although only the girls were punished. Catholic school was instructive in so many ways.

I knew that GWTW was the answer to the Jeopardy question.

"The English teachers will know that," said Chris.

"No they won't."

She seemed shocked when I was right. I told her about the status of GWTW on college campuses and in high school classrooms. At the same time, Mayor Mitch Landrieu had crews dismantling Confederate symbols around New Orleans. A week ago, alt-right demonstrators carrying torches (really guys, torches?) showed up to protect a statue of Robert E. Lee in Charlottesville, Virginia. Some guy drives around Cheyenne in a white pick-up flying a large confederate flag.

"The past is never dead. It's not even past."

So wrote William Faulkner in "Requiem for a Nun."

In the South -- and in some parts of Wyoming -- the past is present.

So public school teachers in California don't read and don't teach GWTW. So, the Cali school teacher on Jeopardy was an also-ran in the big Teachers' Challenge prize.

While all of the Cali population was not alive in 1865, about half of the state's population is now non-white. GWTW would hurt their feelings. But they will always miss out on a compelling story. They might know the movie but not Mitchell's language and style, which is a damn shame, my dear. They may be an English major at UW or Stanford. They will get to know Austen and Wharton, Toni Morrison and and Jame Baldwin, Sandra Cisneros and Flannery O'Connor.

I've read Michener and Michael Crichton and tons of thrillers and detective novels. I've read treacly romances and predictable Zane Grey westerns.

Read it all.

Don't limit your world. That's how we got into this mess.

"The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things" -- what will it be for Trump?

"The Seven Deadly Sins and the Four Last Things", painting by "Hieronymus Bosch" (disputed), Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8829283

How many days has Trump been in office? Only 100-something. It seems like a thousand. If it was a thousand -- we hope that day never comes -- we will all be dead or living on the streets. The policies put forth by Trump and his Republican minions amount to cruel and unusual punishment, which would be unconstitutional if we were imprisoned. How did we put our precious country into the hands of a madman? That's not entirely accurate -- and unkind toward those with mental illness. Trump may indeed be mentally ill. Or he might be one of those twisted leaders thrown up regularly by history.

Trump has many SM nicknames. Tweeter in Chief. Twitler, The Orange One. Twitler is a handy one as it evokes images of Herr Hitler. But then we are back to madmen again. Hitler was human, after all. My father's black and white photos showed him and his Signal Corps pals at Berchtesgaden in 1945. He also had photos of newly-liberated death camps. He knew what Hitler wrought. But, as he liked to say on occasion, "Even Hitler loved his dogs." Great quote from an accountant who loved to read actual books. It was too easy to label Hitler as a monster. He loved his dogs. Humans? Not so much.  Also, the quote is a cautionary tale for us kids. Sure, that person may love his/her dogs, but notice how they treat people. Is it with the same kind of affection? Or would they like to throw you into an oven?

My parents were kind. I've inherited their attitude toward people. I also like dogs and cats. I also am a fallible human being. I hate Trump as president because I believe he is unqualified. Would I like to toss him in an oven? No. Would I like to toss him out of office? Yes. I hate Trump because he favors inhuman policies toward me and my family. He is fallible in the way that all humans are fallible. They are born with original sin, as the catechism says. They also are subject to the failings of the Seven Deadly Sins:  Lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride.

Trump is a greedy bastard. He admits his lustful thoughts, or at least he admitted he did before Inauguration Day. Sloth -- too much golf? His political style shows much wrath. He envies Hillary Clinton's victory in the popular vote. Pride? Just look at his photos. And his figure exhibits gluttony, as do all of the photos showing him surrounded by gilded stuff, food included. His bloated body also shows signs of too much, too much.

Does this make Trump a monster? No, just human. Extravagantly human. Exorbitantly human. Does it make him president? Well, it did, according to the rules of the Electoral College.

Above is an illustration of the Seven Deadly Sins by artist Hieronymus Bosch.

Recently, Hieronymus Bosch became a script line in "Bosch" the Amazon Prime series. Actually, Bosch is always alive on the show and in Michael Connelly's Bosch detective novels. LAPD Detective Harry Bosch is known for taking shortcuts on the way to convicting the bad guys. The bad guys have failings in one or more of the Seven Deadly Sins. But so does Bosch. Is he a bad guy or good guy? When confronted by his partner, Bosch answers: "We do what we have to do."

The struggle is at the heart of most memorable detective novels and movies. Most novels, period. Sam Spade is having an affair with his partner's wife. His partner gets killed following up one of Spade's leads. Spade has to step in and find the killer which opens up "The Maltese Falcon," which contains most of the deadly sins. They are personified by the characters who show up in search of the falcon. Spade falls in love with Brigid O'Shaughnessy, the one who killed his partner -- Spade discovers this along the way. He turns in O'Shaughnessy and makes this confession:

"When a man's partner is killed, he's supposed to do something about it. It doesn't make any difference what you thought of him. He was your partner and you're supposed to do something about it. And it happens we're in the detective business. Well, when one of your organization gets killed, it's-it's bad business to let the killer get away with it, bad all around, bad for every detective everywhere." 

Bad for business. Nothing to do with right or wrong. We know it's just an excuse. Sam Spade is a cad. But he's also the avenging angel. He's somewhere in that Bosch illustration. As is Trump. As am I.

I have to sound a spoiler alert for the following.

I just finished watching the final episode of season three of "Bosch." It ends with Bosch sitting in the dark in an auditorium. At the podium, Mayor Ramos and Police Commission President Bradley Walker have just pinned the captain's bars on Irvin Irving. Walker, we have discovered through hours of binge watching, is guilty of the murder of Bosch's call-girl mother 30 years earlier. Bosch, we know from the look on his face and from reading many of Michael Connelly's novels, will get his revenge. He is the avenging angel. In the process, he may be cast into the fiery pit. By Captain Irving. By Walker. By L.A.'s notoriously fickle justice system. By Satan himself.

How will it end for Trump? Could it be one of "The Four Last Things?" They are

1. Death of the sinner
2. Judgment
3. Hell
4. Glory

Any one is possible.

God only knows.

Happy 35th anniversary, Christine Marie Shay

Chris and I made solemn vows 35 years ago today in Ormond Beach, FL. First, we got married. Second, we vowed to never smush cake in each other's faces. Third, we vowed to toast our good health as often as possible. So far, so good. Happy 35th anniversary to my beautiful wife.

We need more than sound and fury to defeat the GOP's cruel policies

Chris and I wore tutus to a local bar last Friday night.

Nobody beat us up. 

Our tutus were homemade from strips of tulle and, well, left a little bit to be desired. They were blue and black. We wore them over our jeans. Not as noticeable or as flamboyant as the pink tutus worn by others at Accomplice Brewing Company at the old train station. 

People all over Wyoming wore tutus to work and school and bars on Friday. It was in response to Sen. Mike Enzi's April 20 comments.  

This from the #LiveAndLetTutu Facebook page:

During a recent event at Greybull High School in Greybull, a sophomore courageously stood up to ask Senator Mike Enzi a question -- what he was doing to support LGBT youth in Wyoming? To which Senator Enzi responded, "I know a guy who wears a tutu and goes to bars on Friday night and is always surprised that he gets in fights. Well, he kind of asks for it." This message delivered directly to the youth of Wyoming sends the message that if you're bullied in high school things are NOT going to get better. His comments say that to find happiness you must leave Wyoming.

Patrick and Brian Harrington came up with the #LiveAndLetTutu theme and hashtag. They are creative people in Laramie, You may have seen Brian's excellent photos all over the place. On April 22, he took great shots of Laramie's March for Science. The two brothers are from Greybull. They know some of the stigma attached to people who are a bit different in any small town. That's why Enzi's remarks rankled me. It was if he was proclaiming that there was a correct way to be a Wyomingite and an incorrect one. Many incorrect ones. If you follow any of these paths, you will get your ass beat. Or worse. Remember Matthew Shepard.

This is an era when our differences define us more than our similarities. Too bad, since we have so many things in common. For 25 years, I traveled Wyoming promoting the arts. I met all kinds of people. We talked art and not politics. The two are intertwined, but most people in Wyoming what's best for their families. The arts and arts education mean a lot. I once saw a performance of "Annie Get Your Gun" at Greybull High School, the same one when Sen. Enzi made his comments. The whole town, it seemed, turned out that night. It was a high school performance so not all of the voices were stellar and a few lines were dropped. "Annie Get Your Gun" is a bit dated, what with its portrayal of Native Americans and women and the West. Still, any attempt at high school theatre must be applauded. Most schools in Wyoming still have art teachers but theatre teachers are in short supply. Plays are usually supervised by a local with theatre background or a faculty member who (as I did) played The Second Dead Man in a minimalist version of "Our Town."

An event such as #LiveAndLetTutu" features elements of protest and theatre. Protest is always partly theatre. Clever signs and outrageous costumes play a part. So do music and poetry, as in the recent March for Science in D.C., and our own homegrown one in Laramie.

Is protest as theatre effective? It helps us get our ya-yas out. It does nurture community. But it didn't stop the House GOP from passing the so-called American Health Care Act. The better name is Trumpcare. Or Ryancare. Or Tryancare. More creative challenges for us wordsmiths. The GOP has effectively taken over enough state houses to gerrymander the hell out of many states. Their voter suppression efforts have paid off -- for them, anyway. Margins can be thin when half the electorate stays home because you've made it too hard for them to vote. Or their brains have been turned to mush from too much Fox.

Trump & Company only understand one thing -- raw power. We shut them down by voting them out and changing the laws that feed the oligarchy. This won't be easy as we've grown complacent. The theatre of protest will have some effect. But without serious involvement, I am but

a poor player/That struts and frets his hour upon the stage/And then is heard no more: it is a tale/Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,/Signifying nothing.

Sound and Fury. We need more than that. Much more.

"No Human is Illegal" the theme of Cheyenne May Day march

Front page of this morning's Wyoming Tribune-Eagle

The WTE second-page jump header quoted Rev. Rodger McDaniel over a photo of me. This struggle is biblical in many ways. Love thy neighbor as oneself. Stuff like that. 

Artwork and protest signs complement each other at the May Day March in the Depot. The multimedia piece in the foreground is CylieAnn Erickson's "Executive Order 13769."

I was one of a hundred-plus souls who came out on a rainy Monday for the May Day March to Keep Families Together in Cheyenne.

Organized by Juntos, the march protested Trump & Company's cruel attempts to demonize people from Mexico or anywhere south of the border. Put it together with Trump's attempted Muslim ban and you have a set of racist policies that deserve protesting.

Juntos enlisted the arts as part of its rally. One of the organizers, Gonz Serrano, read his poetry to the crowd as it sought shelter post-march in the Cheyenne Depot. A high school mariachi band played. Laramie artist Adrienne Vetter worked with Juntos organizers to stage an art show. The arts both personalize and magnify the cause.

Before the poetry and music came the march. The goal was to carry a letter, signed by organizers, to Gov. Matt Mead. His HQ resides at the other end of  Capitol Ave., the route  followed by most marches in Cheyenne. Rally at the Depot Plaza and walk eight blocks to the capitol, usually with a police escort. The capitol complex will be under construction for three years. So we visited the governor at his temp HQ at the old Schraeder Funeral Home quarters on the corner of 24th and Carey.

A delegation, led by Juntos Director Antonio Serrano, left the march and walked inside to deliver the letter to the Gov. They returned a few minutes later with the news that the Gov was in meetings all day and couldn't meet with them. The crowd was not pleased. Since the goal was peaceful protest and not civil disobedience, we turned around and walked back to the Depot.

A sound system had been set up on the Depot stage. But rain and a bit of hail forced us inside. I pondered the largest artwork in the exhibit. CylieAnn Erickson's multi-media piece, "Executive Order 13769," featured a human-sized Statue of Liberty behind a chain-link fence. The artist had included cutouts of newspaper headlines on the subject. It included a snake-like lamp jutting from the panel far enough that I almost bonked my head on it. It appeared that the lamp worked and was meant to illuminate the assemblage.

Writers attempt to comprehend the deeper meanings behind an event, and not always successfully. Marches like this were held all over on this May Day. L.A. had a huge crowd with reps from more than 100 organizations and unions, including the Screen Actors Guild, which may go on strike soon. Why should I care about a Hollywood screenwriter making a lot more money than I ever did as a writer? Because they are fellow humans trying to make a living in an economic system that does not care if you live or die. You must fight for it. Just as these immigrants are doing. ICE agents bust into their homes and haul away family members. Schoolkids taunt Hispanic peers. Cruelty abounds. Trump and his minions lead the charge.

The headline on the news clip above speaks of the universal nature of this issue.

Biblical? Shakespearean? Historic? You could describe our current situation with any of those. Or find your own term. We need witnesses. In print. In art. In music.

Message to Sen. Mike Enzi: You are no help on the Senate HELP Committee

Received this letter from my U.S. Senator Mike Enzi today. It was a response to my postcard appeal back in March to Sen. Enzi, a member of the Senate Arts Caucus, to save funding for the National Endowment for the Arts, which Trump has targeted in his draft budget. Every time I receive a Congressional response, I frame it with  drawings of the human body in the excellent big-format book, "Wall Chart of Human Anatomy," 24 charts of "3D anatomy based on the National Library of Medicine's Visible Human Project." It's a very sciencey book which is appropriate due to  the hundreds of marches for science we had last weekend. Republicans have yet to show that they have human circulatory systems. 

I received a nice note from Sen. Enzi today. It was short, but I understand, as Sen. Enzi had an action-packed week advising Wyomingites the proper attire to wear (or not to wear) to a Wyoming bar. He was specific about the attire -- a tutu -- but not specific on which bar. It could be the railroaders bar in Bill or the cowboy bar in Cheyenne or the brewpub in a barn in Ten Sleep. He told high school students in Greybull that anyone who wears a tutu into a bar in Wyoming gets what he deserves. We know he was talking about Wyoming's Larry "Sissy" Goodwin, a heterosexual Wyoming man who wears women's clothes and has been beat up several times by drunks who don't think that Wyoming men should be walking around in tutus. Sissy and I have spoken at Democratic Party and union meetings. Sissy is quite a dresser.

So Sen. Enzi has been busy apologizing and, in turn, not apologizing.

So I will forgive the abruptness of his response. But I do want to deconstruct it as it includes some strange statements. Some non-explaining explanations, if you will. Maybe even some alternative facts.

Sen. Enzi points out that he is a member of the Senate Health, Education, Labor and Pensions (HELP) Committee. As such,

"I believe that the arts and humanities are an important part of a quality education for our children."

Who can argue with that? Children need the arts just like they need to breathe. But it's not just the children -- all of us need the arts. Republicans know that they can get into the least amount of trouble by saying they are for the children and education. If they said, "I love the arts for art's sake" at the local bar, they would be beat to a pulp. Or if they said they supported the rights of artists to artistic expression -- the same result. They might be spared if they said they supported their local arts councils which sponsor much-needed artistic performances in some of the smallest communities in the state. But then if they told the mugs at the bar that the money for these activities came from taxpayer dollars, they might object. Tax money shouldn't support the arts and artists. That's something they might say. Or this: The arts should be self-supporting. This is funny coming from a Wyoming taxpayer, who annually receives more in federal funding than they contribute.

Does anyone find it odd that the Senate has a committee called HELP? There might have been a time when Congress looked out for people's health care, public education, the rights of labor unions and the ability of seniors to support themselves after a lifetime of working. Those days are gone. If you need any proof, just take a look at the Repubs' latest healthcare legislation. None of us will get any HELP from this bill. Keep your eyes on Sen. Enzi's vote when it comes to the Senate. Let's see how much HELP he offers to his constituents. He was a foe of Obamacare and will probably gush over the latest cruel version of Trumpcare.

Here's another statement from Enzi's letter:

"In Washington, I am working to encourage people across the country to get more actively involved in the arts."

As James Baldwin once said, "I can't believe what you say, because I see what you do." This is a notable writer saying that "actions speak louder than words."

The statement that really got me riled was this one:

"As we celebrate the arts, culture, and humanities that are native to our land, we encourage our young people to learn about the past and develop their own artistic abilities."

What exactly are the "the arts, culture and humanities that are are native to our land?" You have to admit that the native artists who etched the petroglyphs were talented. Native artists to our land created beautiful baskets and pottery and jewelry. They built Mesa Verde in Colorado and the mounds in Indiana. The medicine wheel on the crest of the Big Horns.

Not sure that's what Sen. Enzi means. The man reads books and he attends arts events around the state. As a mayor, he energized the arts in Gillette. But his statement smacks of the Nativist mentality that got Trump elected. When they say native, they mean white men. White Protestants founded this nation, by God, and we are the native race. All those other cultures don't count. Witness the Arizona law that forbids schools to teach Latino culture. Are African-American art forms such as jazz and blues and hip-hop counted among the arts native to this land? Salsa dancing? Non-representational art created by New Yorkers and Coloradans and Wyomingites who may find their influences in art from Puerto Rico, Mexico, Zimbabwe, Japan, Iraq, or Ukraine?

The U.S., surprisingly enough, did not invent the arts and humanities. We come from many cultures, many lands, many religions. We all deserve to be heard and seen.

Sen. Enzi wraps up his letter with a cautionary note that "the president's budget is always just a starting point." OK, so get started and do something to ensure that arts and humanities thrive in these United States. Make a stand and say that you will no longer follow the voting patterns of the Republican right-wing kook caucus. Tell your constituents you will no longer follow Trump as he marches us off of a cliff.

HELP us!

And I leave you with this artistic image, which I thought was hilarious.

This from Wyoming Equality: LGBTQ friends and straight allies put a tutu on, we're going out!
Find a #ToLiveAndLetTutu party near you: https://goo.gl/IqdZQ6

Gary Snyder: "I pledge allegiance to the soil of Turtle Island"

Jane Hirshfield has teamed up with the Wick Poetry Center at Kent State University to form #poetsforscience which will commemorate this weekend's March for Science and Earth Day. Hirshfield will read her poem "On the Fifth Day" on Saturday's march in Washington, D.C. This poster is part of a series celebrating poetry and science and the environment. Gary Snyder's "Turtle Island" was my favorite poetry book in the 1970s and I took it with me on backpacking trips in the Rockies: "Ah to be alive/on a mid-September morn/fording a stream/barefoot, pants rolled up/holding boots, pack on,/sunshine, ice in the shallows,/northern rockies."

Trump Chicken asks: Where are Trump's missing tax returns?

The Trump Chump Chicken was the centerpiece of the Tax March rally today in Cheyenne. The building in the right background is IRS HQ. Some 150 rally attendees in Cheyenne, plus tens of thousands all over the country, request that Trump release his tax returns because we suspect shady dealings with Russia and almost any other entity on the planet. As one sign said, "No tax reform without tax returns." Creative people, creative signs. Next Saturday, April 22: March for Science in Laramie. Will you be there?

Tax Day Protest set for April 15 in Cheyenne

On Saturday, April 15, concerned citizens will gather in Cheyenne to protest Trump's refusal to release his tax returns. It's Tax Day, the day usually devoted to the wailing and gnashing of teeth over tax filing deadlines. This year, however, Tax Day is officially April 18 due to the weekend and Easter and. presumably, the traditional Easter Egg Roll at the White House, which Trump will emcee this year. Imagine that. If it doesn't go well, if the eggs are not rolled to his liking, expect another Tomahawk launch on Syria.

Why is it important for Trump to release his taxes? Because we need accountability and transparency from this man who has shown so little during his 70 years. Release your tax returns, now, Donald. Or remain the nefarious robber baron that we suspect you are. More info on the protest at https://www.facebook.com/events/1256681387753289/ The Cheyenne protest was highlighted in an April 4 article on CNN Money.

I will make a sign and march on April 15. Will it accomplish anything? If you mean: will Trump finally release his tax returns? No, he will not. We will announce our opposition to his crooked ways, experience camaraderie along the way. At the Women's March in January, I had fun and met the nicest people. New people, mainly, although I saw some old friends. These sorts of gatherings help hold us together as Trump and his minions try to divide us.

See you April 15 at 10 a.m. at IRS HQ, 5353 Yellowstone Rd,, Cheyenne. Bring a sign. If you don't have a sign, and would like to make one in the company of good people, come to the Unitarian Universalist Church, 3005 Thomes Ave, at 6 p.m. on April 14.

And those of you interested in protest and body art, the Wyoming Women March on Equality group also is hosting a "Nevertheless, She Persisted" tattoo party from noon to whenever on April 15 at T.R.I.B.E. Zoo, 1901 Central Ave. in downtown Cheyenne. T.R.I.B.E. artists will charge $75 for a "Nevertheless, She Persisted" tattoo, with $50 going to Planned Parenthood of the Rocky Mountains. The offer is good through May 15.

MIA: Barrasso, Cheney, Enzi

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