Donuts that are pretty as a picture

Donuts!

Haven’t given them much thought the past couple decades. They once were a regular morning feature, coffee and donuts. You know it was a good day -- or a long meeting was ahead -- when greeted with a box of donuts when you walked into work. Sugar and flour never tasted so good. Therein lies the problem. Carbs and sugar are not on my diabetic wife Chris's menu. Carbs, butter, and cooking oil led to my heart attack in 2013.

But I ate a donut this morning. They were cooked by The Donut Shop in Cheyenne. Most people know it by its pink exterior paint festooned with multicolored donut varieties. Daughter Annie, the artist, was so taken with the place’s color scheme that she created a painting in the place’s image. When it was finished, she framed it and we trundled it over to the Southside shop. There’s a café on one side and a Dollar General across the street. Donuts are in the display cases when it opens at 5 a.m. This means that the owners are up earlier to cook. Chris worked at a donut shop for a brief time. It was one of her three jobs. She was in the shop at 5 a.m. and the cook had already been there for hours. She worked the morning rush and then went home.

The Donut Shop won a 2022 “Best of Cheyenne” award and the framed plaque hangs in the dining room that has a half-dozen tables.  Bonnie the owner says she will hang Annie’s painting for all to see. We ordered a dozen donuts. Bonnie wanted to pay for them but we insisted on paying our own way. Many struggling artists have traded their work for food. Those times could be ahead for Annie. This was not one of those times.

The golden glazed donut I ate was delicious. Nostalgia in a box. Annie and I each took one and brought the rest downtown to the PrideFest committee readying the plaza for the afternoon event. Son Kevin is on the committee and built the stage. He’s also on the security team that’s a must for any Pride Month event this year what with all the right-wing loonies on the loose. Donuts might be a great peace offering in tumultuous times. This might be one of those times.

Donuts!

Just what are the origins of that tuna casserole my Mom used to make?

CBS Sunday Morning was all about food and drink. An historic Mexican cafe in San Bernardino, a Yemini coffee speakeasy, the origin of Ranch dressing, the rise and fall of NYC Automats, the art of making Italian Orecchiette pasta, the refined tongues of taste testers, and so on.

It caused me to think about my food traditions. I have none. I cook Mexican enchiladas, Asian stir-fry, Kansas City-style barbecue, U.S.-style Thanksgiving dinner. Typical American diet, right -- a sampler of cuisine from elsewhere. Or a smorgasbord, a Swedish type of cafeteria that was a thing back in the 1950s. Because Americans come from everywhere, so does our food. 

I should have Irish-American foodways. If only I knew what those were. Corned beef and cabbage? Irish oatmeal? Irish Stew? Rashers? Soda bread? Guinness-infused desserts? Irish coffee? 

No idea. My mother passed along recipes for Jello molds and tuna casserole. My father made his Scots-Irish mother's spaghetti and meatballs. One could live off of that I suppose, but would you want to?

The anti-tuna-casserole stance involves a bit of food snobbery. I began to think of my Mom in the kitchen, faced with the hungry stares of her many children, and I realized that a couple cans of tuna, a can of cream of mushroom soup, a dash of milk, and a handful of corn flakes for crunchiness made dinner for eight for a few bucks. All she needed was a can opener and a stove (no microwaves yet). Many "homemakers" of the 1950s faced the same challenge. Bless you Mom. Sorry I made such a fuss. 

I Googled tuna casserole recipes and there are thousands. Still. Heather Arndt Anderson wrote a witty "Brief History of the Tuna Casserole" for Taste Magazine. In it, she traces the origins of the dish to a traditional German noodles and fish casserole. The first recipes in the U.S. show up in the 1930s. It started in the Pacific Northwest and then migrated to Middle America. Modern conveniences such as COMS and canned Charley the Tuna was all that was needed to feed hungry groups of fledgling Baby Boomers. That led eventually to Tuna Helper and a recipe for tuna casserole that's "not for wimps." 

As an American, I come from nowhere and I leave no food traditions for my offspring. A sad state of affairs. My daughter Annie will help me cook Thanksgiving dinner. The recipe is a 16-pound roasted turkey, mashed potatoes and turkey gravy, stuffing, green bean casserole, and pumpkin pie. I bought cranberry sauce but use it on my turkey sandwiches. I like sweet potatoes but the family does not. I have a childhood memory of my Aunt Ellen's sweet potato casserole topped with marshmallows. It was a revelation -- marshmallows on taters? What wondrous world is this? I brought the recipe home to my mom but she never made it. I never have either. 

My parents and my wife's parents were meat and potato people. Who could blame them? Growing up in the 1930s, they were lucky to eat regularly. The Depression cast a pall on my parents' generation. That's why food companies found a willing populace for beef roasts, hamburgers, hot dogs, and, eventually, TV dinners. What miracle is this, an entire meal in an aluminum tray? Mystery meat, whipped potatoes, green beans, and an apple crisp dessert hot enough to burn away the roof of your mouth. We loved them. Mostly, though, we lived on casseroles, macaroni/cheese, hot dogs and burgers. Cereal for breakfast. Baloney sandwiches for lunch. 

I continue these non-traditions. Sure, I try new things from other cultures but keep returning to the tried-and-true. We eat a lot of stews and chilis in the cold months, many kinds of salads in the summer. But if I was asked about traditional foods, I would draw a blank. Why do I cook chicken on the gas grill? Why do I use a certain marinade? When I make Irish stew, how Irish is it really? Research shows that stew is a catch-all for whatever you have around the house. Hobos cook Irish stew from veggies they scrounge in the fields. Who invented the chili  make and why? I cook Italian sausages made in Boulder, Colorado. How Italian are they anyway? The Tex-Mex dishes I make are not the same ones you find in El Paso and Mexico City. I do not like corned beef and cabbage and have no ideas about its origins. The most Irish thing I imbibe is beer, usually stouts like Guinness which is made in Dublin and now in a Baltimore brewery. 

Now I'm rambling. But the same question remains: what am I eating and why? One of the reports on CBS today was about the rise of plant-based diets. Vegan and vegetarian restaurants have been a thing for awhile but there's a rise in popularity. You can assemble a vegan meal at most restaurants in Cheyenne but there isn't an all-vegan one. Closest WYO vegetarian restaurant is Sweet Melissa's in Laramie and quite a few in Fort Collins.

I do not want to go vegan but I do grow vegetables and eat them. Fruits, too, but all of mine comes from Colorado, California, and Texas. I eat less red meat but I eat a lot of chicken. There's a company called Daring Foods making veggie-based chicken and I plan to try it if I can find it in Wyoming stores. Tabitha Brown grew up in the meatcentric South but now is vegan and wrote a vegan cookbook, "Feeding the Soul." Her reasons for changing her diet is to stop chronic pan and fatigue. A very good reason. My heart condition makes it crucial to cut down on bad cholesterol and its tendency to cause inflammation that upsets the heart. 

My goal is modest. Replace a few meat-based meals with plant-based. Some practice Meatless Mondays which sounds reasonable. Alliterative, too. I also want to track the origins of the food I eat. I like to lose myself in the maze of research. It's habit-forming. Like bacon.

Where does one get Micro Kale and Wasabi Arugula in the midst of ski season?

We move our lives indoors as frost and snow shuts down another outdoor growing season in Cheyenne. Yesterday, I plucked all of my tomatoes and brought them inside to finish ripening. I found some purple pod beans lurking in the foliage. I snipped off my basil, oregano, and rosemary and stored them in the freezer. I'll use them in sauces throughout the winter. 

This is usually a somber day for me. Winter is coming! October through March is when I spend more time thinking about gardening than actually gardening. What grew well this year and what am I going to tackle in 2022? Thing is, much growing has moved inside. Locals have built small backyard greenhouses. Some of us take advantage of big south-facing windows to continue the process during the dreary months, just as our rooftop solar panels reach out to the sun dipping into the southern latitudes.

Just read an Inc. Magazine article about vertical farming operations around the U.S. Former industrial sites in New Jersey and Pennsylvania have been transformed into hydroponic farms. Vertical Harvest in Jackson grows greens and tomatoes year-round in its three-story farm built on a strip of land adjacent to the city parking garage. Teton County visionaries found this unused bit of land, a rarity in Jackson, and then planned, funded, and built VH. Now, according to the Inc. article, it's going nationwide with facilities planned for Westbrook, Maine, and North Philadelphia, Penn. VH's mission from its early days was to employ people with developmental disabilities, which they are doing, a mission VH promotes on its packaged produce: "Sustainably produced by community members with different abilities." 

This fascinates me. I am a gardener and cook. My daughter has "different abilities." I volunteer at the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens. Botany is not my trade -- writing is -- but I've always been interested in growing things. I'm moderately tech-savvy but am intrigued with ways that tech can change ways we grow our food. Computers, efficient L.E.D. lights, and robotics are feeding what Inc. calls "the future of the $5 trillion agriculture industry." Outdoor gardening has its thrills but also drawbacks in hail, pests, and diseases. So-called urban farming impacts all of this. It also addresses climate change variables: hurricanes, deluges, drought, massive wildfires. In southeast Wyoming, we look forward to this week's snow because the summer and early fall have been so dry. Meanwhile, Northern Italy last week was swamped with almost 30 inches of rain in a 12-hour storm. 

The Inc. article wraps with mention of a book by botanist Stefano Mancuso, "The Revolutionary Genius of Plants." Mancuso posits that not only have humans been nurturing plants for some 10,000 years, but "plants have brought us along on their evolutionary journey, employing us as a means of transportation." Now we bring them inside, away from most of their pests and plagues, and refine them along the way. A photo in the article shows Irving Fain, Bowery Farms founder, behind a crop of wasabi arugula. Some diners already consider arugula pungent, but a wasabi mix? Holy moly. Some crops are brand new and some are being resurrected from the dustbin of history. 

Tech and business brainiacs are in the mix with Micro Kale and Beet Greens. Lots of start-up dough is going into these projects. "Geeks and quants" are involved, says Inc., and I think I know a geek when I see one but a quant? That's what the Internet is for. According to Investopedia, it comes from "quantitative (quant) trading" which "involves the use of algorithms and programs to identify and capitalize on available trading opportunities." Quants do this. They read pubs such as Poets and Quants which, as far as I can tell, has more to do with the latter than the former. Bowery's Fain might be a quant as he says this: "The question for me is, can tech generate scalable opportunities and an exponential increase in outcomes." 

It's a good question. There's another way to put it:

Salad on table/Where to find arugula/That inflames the tongue

Just asking for a poet friend.

A prelude to fall this weekend at Cheyenne Botanic Gardens Harvest Festival

I'm volunteering Saturday afternoon at the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens front desk. The place will be hopping with the annual Heirlooms and Blooms Harvest Market from 10 a.m.-5 p.m. (noon to 4 on Sunday). This is the Gardens' first big event since the advent of Covid. Supposed to be a nice day. The farmers' market and the Shawn Dubie Memorial Rodeo happens Saturday at Frontier Park so it should be a lively day in the neighborhood. Drop by the front desk between noon and 3 and say hi. 

From the CBG press release:

CHEYENNE – Don’t wait for the chill of the holiday season to start shopping for your loved ones or yourself! 

Join the Cheyenne Botanic Gardens, 710 S. Lions Park Dr., for an expanded indoor/outdoor harvest market at the most bountiful and beautiful time of year at the Gardens! This two-day event, on Saturday, Sept. 11, from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. and Sunday, Sept. 12 from 12 p.m. to 4 p.m., will have a variety of regionally made gifts from artists and craftsmen selling everything from home decor, woodworking, art and jewelry, dog treats, baked goods, apparel, and so much more! 

Make it an outing for the whole family and enjoy some delicious food from our food vendors, and activities for the kids! Admission is free, so come and enjoy the lush surroundings of the Gardens as you get ahead of your Fall decorating and Holiday shopping! 

Additional free parking is available across the street in Frontier Days Lot C. 

FMI: Aaron Summers, 307-637-6458.

P.S. Cheyenne writer Barb Gorges will be on hand from 11 a.m.-1 p.m. Saturday and noon-4 p.m. Sunday to sign her books, "Cheyenne Garden Gossip" and "Cheyenne Birds by the Month."

Meadowlarks, cabbage burgers, and Pine Bluffs experiences a nuke boom (the good kind)

So this is Nebraska

So this is Nebraska. A Sunday

afternoon; July. Driving along

with your hand out squeezing the air,

a meadowlark waiting on every post.

Third stanza of a poem by Ted Kooser of Nebraska, one-time U.S. Poet Laureate to the Library of Congress. To hear him read the poem, prefaced with a short description of why he wrote it, go to  Poetry Foundation. To read in full, go to So this is Nebraska

I heard Kooser read this poem aloud along with other work at a Wyoming Writers, Inc., conference a few years ago. He's a short and unassuming man. You can't say the same adjectives for his poetry. His work tells stories of life in the Great Plains, Nebraska mainly. The poems are simple in construction but you can find worlds in "a meadowlark waiting on every post."

I traveled from Cheyenne to Nebraska last week, my first visit since before Covid-19 struck. It was a short visit. Family visitors who had never been to Nebraska wanted to see it, step foot in a foreign place. I told them Nebraska stories, how Chris and I got trapped in Kimball during a spring blizzard when lightning veined the sky and I skidded through mushy snow a foot deep on I-80 before snagging the last hotel room barely 60 miles from home. I gathered my family one spring break day and met friends from Lincoln in Red Cloud, Nebraska, home of Willa Cather. An odd choice for spring break if you're not an admirer of Cather and her work. But our friends got into the spirit of the day. The kids played in the playground while we toured Cather's old home undergoing restoration (I snagged a 100-year-old board) and poked around the library which checks out books, videos, and cake pans. Chris and I walked the quiet autumn streets of Lincoln, campus lights twinkling in the distance. I remarked that it took a victory by the visiting CU Buffaloes over the Mighty Cornhuskers to bring the silence of a graveyard to the capital city. 

We drove through Pine Bluffs and past the border into Nebraska. "Looks a lot like Wyoming," Eileen said.

We pull off at Bushnell. I glide to a stop on the paved road which probably morphs into a gravel road. Next to the sign for Bushnell (No Services!), with farm equipment clattering down the road, prairie grass waving in the hot wind, I read them Kooser's poem. Looking back, I should have dialed up the poet reading his work. His voice matches the scenery.

I hear traffic zipping down the interstate. Thousands pass this way every day bound for somewhere else. Those who do get off at this interchange take bio breaks and tend to a crying child. No need to seek succor in Bushnell (No Services). Winter winds or weather might cause high-profile vehicles to pull over. But a truck stop is just seven miles away across the border so why stop here? I can easily conjure a winter day near Bushnell because I have experienced them near Torrington and Muddy Gap and Sinclair and Meeteetse. 

But today it is summer and it's beautiful.

We get back in the car and stop for lunch at Sadie's. A big weekend ahead for the town with Texas Trail Days. A parade, rodeo, concerts and a mud volleyball tourney. I order a cabbage burger because I never see that on any restaurant menus. Only time I've eaten one was at Germans-from-Russia events that feature the Dutch Hop Polka. 

We tour the Texas Trail Museum and find out that we just missed the brief stop of UP's rebuilt Big Boy steam locomotive as it began its cross-country travels. We tour the gigantic Virgin Mary statue at the east end of town, and then the archaeological dig site on the way back to Cheyenne.

A school teacher tending the info booth at the rest area tells us that there isn't a single apartment or house to rent or buy in Pine Bluffs. The town expects an influx of workers set to begin the first phase of the renovation of the area's nuke missile sites. This is part of a multi-year $3 billion project to bring our "nuclear deterrent" up to 21st century requirements. Nobody ever talks about the "peace dividend" anymore. That's so late-20th century. Not sure what the nukes can do to help the Afghans about to regress into the 5th century. The Taliban, it seems, are not impressed with our nuclear might lurking in burrows on the prairie.

Behind a shelterbelt of cedars, 

top-deep in hollyhocks, pollen and bees,

a pickup kicks its fender off

and settles back to read the clouds.

Democrats hold Chili Cook-off Fundraiser Nov. 14 in Cheyenne

When I tell people that I make a killer no-sodium-added red chili, they are dubious. To compare, your average canned chili on grocery stores shelves packs a thousand kilotons of sodium, maybe more. And I've eaten my share, no doubt contributing to my 2013 widow-maker heart attack. Most recipes don't skip on the salt. So I took it as a challenge to make good-tasting chili sans salt. That means salt such as that found in nature and that found in cans of beans, chopped tomatoes, tomato paste, etc. If I was a more dedicated cook, I would use fresh ingredients. Soak the beans overnight (without salt). Use my own tomatoes, onions and peppers. Butcher my own meat.

But I'm not. When you think about it, it's easier today to be a lazy cook that ever before. My local Albertson's stocks salt-free cans of nearly everything. Low-sodium foods, too, such as Amy's Kitchen soups and some Progresso offerings that for some unknown reason are always on the bottom shelf. The Salt Lobby -- handmaiden to the Illuminati!

I use fresh herbs and a variety of spices to exorcise the blandness of the saltless. People like it. So I'm making a batch of it for the Nov. 14 events explained below. At past events, cooks have brought in vegetarian, vegan, beef, chicken, turkey, and varieties of green chili. While I have not followed this path, a few cooks add fire to their recipes causing watery eyes and much munching of chips, tortillas and cornbread. Not for the weak-hearted! And neither is being a Democrat in the reddest state in the union.

Read on...

Democrats hold Nov. 14 Chili Cook-off fundraiser at IBEW Hall

The Laramie County Democratic Grassroots Coalition invites you to a Chili Cook-off Fundraiser on Thursday, Nov. 14, 6-8 p.m. at the IBEW Local 415 Hall, 810 Fremont Ave., Cheyenne. Tickets are $15.

Attendees may enter their homemade food items in three categories: chili, salsa, and dessert. You can enter one, two or all three categories. Vote tickets will be available at the door for $1 or six for $5. Framed certificates will be awarded to the winners. People can also bring other side dishes.

The LCDGC planning committee will provide all the condiments for the chili, homemade cornbread, and beverages including iced tea, lemonade and coffee.

LCDGC will raffle a bottle of Maker’s Mark Whiskey. Tickets will be $5, 5 for $20. Must be 21 to win. There also will be a 50/50 raffle.

The night’s speakers include Ben Rowland, president of the Laramie County Democrats, and Rep. Sara Burlingame. There will be time for any Democrat who has announced a 2020 campaign.

All proceeds from the night’s event go to Democratic Party candidates running in the 2020 election.

For more information, contact Michael Shay, 307-241-2903, or go to laramiecountydemocrats.org 

Democrats' Sept. 8 fund-raiser features cake walk, garden tour

We'll save you a seat in Joe's Garden. 

Help us celebrate the final days of summer at the Laramie County Democrats Grassroots Coalition’s garden party and cake walk on Sunday, Sept. 8, 1-3 p.m. at Joe’s Garden, 3626 Dover Road, Cheyenne.

Light hors d’ouevres and desserts, as well as iced tea and lemonade, will be served. Attendees are invited to bring a cake to donate to the cake walk. Joe Corrigan will conduct tours of his award-winning garden and give tips for next year’s growing season.

Admission is $15. All proceeds go to local Democratic Party candidates running for office in the 2020 election. Come out Sept. 8 to meet and mingle with your fellow Democrats.

FMI: Mike Shay, 307-241-2903.

Part III: The Way Mike Worked -- Never Take Your Eyes off of the Cash Box

My first and only job on the beach lasted one day.

I walked from our family's house on Hartford Avenue to a float stand near the Daytona Beach Boardwalk. A couple miles. Daytona is known for its hard-packed beaches that you can drive on. A float stand exists every half mile or so. They offered most items needed by a vacationing family in 1965 Florida: inflated rubber rafts, umbrellas and beach chairs. You rent by the hour or the day. Mom and Dad sit under the umbrella's shade as the kids ride the waves and try not to drown. Lifeguards are spaced in red towers every few hundred yards to keep an eye out.

My float stand was owned by a crusty old codger who probably was in his 40s when this 15-year-old worked for him. Can't remember his name, probably Bob. He wore shorts and his skin was the color and texture of cured leather. A no-nonsense guy with a few employees my age,  We were tasked with charging the tourists (cash only in those days) and setting up their equipment. Most customers were in pretty good spirits --they were on vacation after all -- although many were still a bit jangled after a two-day drive from Detroit in an un-air-conditioned station wagon with six yelping kids. We were tolerant of their gruffness and stupid questions. Is the beach open at night? Any sharks in the water? Where can I buy suntan lotion?

We were happy to answer in the least snarky way possible. Later, we could make fun of them. That was a hobby of anyone who worked on the beach. Plus-sized men and women in too-small bathing suits, their skin so white you knew they would end up in the ER burn unit by the end of the day. We knew better, or thought we did. Here in the 21st century, I spend an inordinate amount of time at the dermatologist checking on my sun-damaged skin.

Bob was a taskmaster. He taught me the ropes and turned me loose with customers. His cardinal rule was "Never take your eyes off of the cash box."  You rent the gear, stash the cash box, and help the tourists set up. We had a device like a big corkscrew to dig holes in the hard sand for umbrellas. A typically busy summer day. Many high school girls to ogle. Many grumpy parents to assuage. At one point, I left to install an umbrella and returned to find the cash box missing. Uh oh. I frantically searched for it. Bob came up and asked what I was doing. I told him. Concern creased his face. "What's rule number one?" he asked. "Never take your eyes off the cash box." My fellow helpers looked on with bemusement. After Bob let me search for a few minutes, he finally reached under a beach chair and produced the metal box. "Let that be a lesson to you." So my task was clear -- at the point of paranoia -- never take my eyes off of the cash box. I didn't know it at the time but my fate was sealed. At quitting time, Bob paid me what I'm sure was a princely sum for 1965 and told me I was fired. "What's rule number one?" I was tempted to say, "Never curse at a leathery old man who tricks you." But I didn't. I just took the money and headed home.

The sand heats up by the end of the day. Although my feet were as leathery as Bob's face -- barefoot is the usual summer state-of-being -- I walked through the shallows. I scattered the shore birds, watched the sand fleas dig into the sand. I watched older teens power their muscle cars down the beach. If I had thought about it, I might have stopped and looked behind me, watch as the waves obliterated my footprints. My life, already, was being born and was disappearing. I had walked on this beach dozens of times and would walk on it hundreds more. I was here with my parents and brothers and sisters. That first day, just moved from Colorado, with my mother shouting at us not to go out too far as a hurricane was coming. I walked the beach with my Irish grandfather, Me, hung over from my brother's bachelor party. my 80-year-old grandfather outpacing me, leaving behind shoe prints from the black Oxfords he wore. I ran the beach. Bicycled it. Played Frisbee on it. Walked it with girls from Kentucky I just met and a hometown girl who would eventually be my wife. I walked the beach in a February chill, taking a break from my dying father's bedside. My kids' footprints are down there, too, during our rare visits to Florida from Out West. Our family's Irish setter Shannon, her paw prints as she chased the gulls and sandpipers, the animal control officer hot on her trail.

All those footprints.

On that June day in 1965, I contemplated the lesson of the day: don't work for a jerk. I knew that my parents would not be pleased. They weren't, just urged me that night to find another job. I did. The following week, I was a new busboy at the Village Inn Pancake House and Kentucky Fried Chicken Restaurant. I worked pancakes and chicken all through high school. More about that later...

Women's March Wyoming organizing update

The Women's March Wyoming is set for 10 a.m. on Saturday, Jan. 20, in Cheyenne. Gather at the Depot Plaza, march to the State Capitol, where surprises await, and then march back to Depot Plaza for speakers. This year, organizers have arranged for a super-duper sound system that will allow you to hang on the words of every speaker -- and we have some great ones.

Starting at about 11:30 a.m., the WMW food committee will dish up hot and cold luncheon items, including desserts and beverages. We will have vegetarian items and possibly some gluten-free selections. Feel free to bring your favorite pot-luck food item. You can drop it off inside before the march. Food committee solicits crockpot items, such as chili, stew or soup, but keep in mind that our crockpot extravaganza at last year's march blew some circuits at the Depot. Pizza and sandwiches always welcome, as are casseroles in cloth food warmers, which can be pink or any other cool color. We also welcome brownies and cookies and other assorted desserts.

If you are interested in being a part of the organizing committee, feel free to attend the next meeting on Sunday, Jan. 7, 1 p.m., in the library's third-floor Sunflower Room.

If you are a crafty person and wish to make buttons and pussy hats to sell at the march, assemble from 5:30-8:30 p.m., on Wednesday, Jan. 3, at a location to be announced. Update: Location is Danielmark's Brewing downtown.  Go to the Facebook page for more info.

Wordsmiths are invited to the Wines & Signs March Prep Party on Friday, Jan. 19, at 5:30 p.m., at the UU Church in Cheyenne. BYOB or BYOW. Also, snacks.

Imagine a worse health care bill than the one drafted by the U.S. Senate's Cruel Thirteen

All my life, I have been sending missives off into the void. I have sent chatty letters off to family and friends -- rarely do they get answered. I send complaint letters that end up in someone's circular file. This prepared my for life as a fiction writer, where many fictions are sent off and few return. It also prepared me for life as a blogger. Many posts, few comments, although I do get some amusing spam. 

So when someone answers a letter I am impressed. It takes some effort to put thoughts down on paper or computer, even if it's bullshit. Today I received an e-mail in letter form from Wyoming Sen. John Barrasso, M.D. The letter writer is cool, calm and collected. Not Barrasso, probably, but a staffer. D.C. staffers usually are competent overachievers, college grads who seek to make a mark on the world. I admire their pluck, their ability to make a living in pricey and super-competitive D.C. 

I am including Barrasso's letter here. It's about the health care issue and it deserves to be read. As we know, the "discussion draft" was written by thirteen male Republican senators from red states. Two, Barrasso and Mike Enzi, are from Wyoming. This tells you something right away about the bill.  It does not represent the mainstream of American thought but an aging, white, wealthy fringe group. No surprise that the bill represents a reactionary view of America and Americans. 

I live in Wyoming's largest city (pop. 65,000) in the state's largest county (pop. about 96,000). The entire state has about 580,000 people, mostly white. We are considered a rural state, a "pioneer state" when it comes to federal grantmaking. When I was a grant writer, I often played up the fact that the state has more antelope than humans. The feds always gave us bonus points for that. Not that they wanted antelope to benefit from taxpayer funds. Coastal folks just need a bit of help understanding life without a coffee shop on every corner and sweaty bodies crowded into subway trains. 

If you really wanted to write a health care bill that represented the true needs of Americans, you would convene a committee that represented the U.S. demographic. It would be kind of like the demographic I saw yesterday at the Food Bank for Larimer County in Fort Collins. My daughter's friend had just been kicked out of her apartment. Her husband works but hasn't been paid in months. They have a nine-month-old boy, a smart, cute kid who started life as a premie but is catching up fast. I was in town so I drove her and her son to the food bank. She doesn't have a car. 

At the food bank, I saw an aging hippie, a Hispanic man bent from scoliosis, a young black mother pushing two kids in a shopping cart, three young people who looked like college students. There were lots of white people, most of them without the same means to wealth as Barrasso and Enzi and Mitch McConnell.  They were hungry. Their kids were hungry. Many looked to have health issues. 

Wonder what kind of health care legislation they would draft? Would it cut off access to health care for millions like them? Would it slash Medicaid to benefit the super-rich? 

Lest you think I have some rosy view of poverty, that it ennobles people and would cause them to write benevolent legislation for their fellow humans, think again. If you put thirteen of these food bank patrons into a closed room and demanded them to write a health care bill, they might come up with something terrible, such as death camps for gays or gilded mansions for themselves and screw everyone else. Remember, some of these people voted for Trump. 

But this imaginary committee's legislation cannot be worse than the one drafted by The Cruel Thirteen. A new poll reports that only 17 percent of Americans approve of the Senate bill. That's almost as low as Congress's approval rating.

Did my daughter's friend get food for her baby? The bank was out of formula but had jars of baby food. She was happy to show off a container of blackberries that looked fresh and didn't have any mold on them. Cheese and bread and canned veggies. Nothing great but her family won't starve as it looks for another place to live in Trump's America. 

Anyway, here is Sen. Barrasso's letter. The url of the pdf has a strange title: https://www.budget.senate.gov/imo/media/doc/BetterCareReconcilistionAct.6.26.17.pdf. It's a bona fide link and takes you to all 145 pages of this monstrosity. But why "Reconcilistion" rather than "Reconciliation?" Make of it what you will:

Dear Michael,  

Thank you for taking the time to contact me about health care. It is good to hear from you.  

There are serious challenges facing health care in our nation. When Obamacare was being considered in 2009, Americans were promised that the law would give patients more choices and lower costs. This has not occurred.  

Instead, folks in Wyoming are down to just a single insurance company willing to sell Obamacare policies. Our state also has some of the highest insurance rates in the country. Our experience in Wyoming is not unique. Across the county insurance companies are fleeing the individual insurance market and prices continue to skyrocket.  

Congress must act soon before patients are left with no ability to purchase coverage. The Senate is hearing from all sides about the best ways to address the significant problems in health care. In particular, I am committed to improving care for people living in rural communities and protecting patients with preexisting conditions.  

You can review the complete Senate health care discussion draft here: https://www.budget.senate.gov/imo/media/doc/BetterCareReconcilistionAct.6.26.17.pdf. In the coming weeks, the Senate will also have an open amendment process, where Senators can bring forward their best ideas to improve this legislation 

Once more, thank you for contacting me. I appreciate hearing your thoughts and comments about this important issue. 

John Barrasso, M.D. 

Election season heats up -- and goes green -- in Laramie County

House Minority Leader Mary Throne addresses the "Get Your Green On" Democrats about some of  the Republican craziness that transpired during the most recent legislative session. 

Pat Lauber leads the food line as committee member Ken Trowbridge points out the goodies. 

Ryan Greene's campaign express from Rock Springs stopped at the Laramie County event to do some politicking. and eating. Greene, center, is the only Democrat running for Wyoming's lone U.S. House seat.  

Had a terrific time last night at the Laramie County Democrats’ “Get Your Green On” fund-raiser. Lots of funds raised for 2016 Dem candidates in Laramie County – stay tuned for numbers. This Irish-American never knew that corned beef and cabbage could be so popular. Only leftovers were a few leaves of cabbage and remnants of carrots and potatoes. C’mon Dems, eat your veggies! I noticed you had no problem paying $5 for Katherine Van Dell’s gourmet pina colada cupcakes. Cupcakes are vegetables, right? Each cupcake bought entered an attendee in a 50/50 raffle, won by Phyllis Bloomberg. All for the cause!

The big treat last night was seeing so many new faces ready to sign up and defeat these whackadoodle Republicans embarrassing the state in every legislative session. We also heard from the lone Democrat running for Wyoming’s lone U.S. Houser seat. Ryan Greene is a Rock Springs native and he brought his entourage with him to promote his 23-county get-acquainted tour around the state. Next stop after Cheyenne – a meeting in Lusk with Niobrara County’s flour Democrats. Plenty of room for growth! Greene works in the state’s energy industry and concerned, as we all are, about the downturn in the coal and natural gas industries. Greene is a father of two and a certified pipe welder and promoter of unions, which is fitting for someone from Wyoming’s union stronghold of Sweetwater County. As the candidate notes in his flyer, it’s been 40 years since Wyoming sent a Democrat to Washington, D.C. That was another Sweetwater County favorite son – Tino Roncalio. I met Rep. Roncalio while working on an oral history of the state’s World War II veterans. I also interviewed the very colorful politician for a 30^th anniversary booklet for the Wyoming Arts Council. Get more info about Ryan Greene’s campaign at www.ryaangreene16.com.

A few words about the plight of Democrats in Wyoming. As union jobs have been driven from this “Right to Work” state, Democratic Party numbers have dropped precipitously and so has our ability to elect Dems to the legislature. Gerrymandering hasn’t helped either. Our 11 Dems in the legislature are a feisty bunch. Notable is minority leader Rep. Mary Throne. The Gillette native (now Cheyenne resident) brings the same kind of fight to law-making as she did with her recent breast cancer battle. Such passion! She has to run again this year, as our reps have to mix it up on the campaign trail every two years. I’ll be writing more about the campaigns as the political scene begins to heat up this spring and summer.

The Laramie County Democrats Grassroots Coalition does some amazing work. Our six-member fund-raising committee has put together some great events this past year. This group raised $10,000 for county candidates in 2012. Our goal this year is $15,000. We are two-thirds of the way there. If you wish to be part of the effort without the bother of eating cupcakes, donate at http://www.laramiecountydemocrats.org/. If you want to do your bit by eating and making merry at a FUNdraiser, pencil in May 7 on your calendar. This is Dem Derby Day in Wyoming. We expect a big crowd of concerned citizens to gamble and drink mint juleps for a good cause. We also hope for nice weather, but a little bit of spring snow and wind has never stopped us before. To keep up to date, read this blog and visit the keen Laramie County Democrats web site. The site is maintained by Hawai'i native Shayna Lonoaea Alexander.  She brought her considerable skills to Cheyenne when she heard that the surf in Cheyenne is bitchin’ and there are more Democrats in Laramie County than on Maui. OK, so she was misinformed. But we love it that she made it to the Equality State.

And start getting your outfit ready for Derby Day. Big, floppy hats! Fancy dresses! Warm and fuzzy feelings all over!

Democrats hold a "Get Your Green On" bash just in time for St. Patrick's Day

A typical St. Patrick's Day celebration in Cheyenne

What do you think of when St. Patrick's Day rolls around?

Toasting your friends with green beer. Wearing green. Toasting your family with a shot of Irish whiskey. Eating corned beef and cabbage. Substituting Irish Coffee for your latte in the a.m. Singing when "Irish Eyes are Crying" and/or "Danny Boy" at the local pub after a few beers and a few shots. Attending a St. Patrick's Day Parade, such as the one in downtown Denver this Saturday. 

If you even do a few of these things on St. Patrick's Day, it can be called a success. That's how Americans celebrate the holiday that honors the patron saint of Ireland. I guess you could also take some time out to drive the snakes out of your town or county, as legend tells us that St. Patrick did for all of Ireland. The tale is a metaphor. Substitute pagans for snakes and you get the idea. St. Patrick, a Christian, drove the pagans out of Ireland. It hasn't been the same since.

Before I get too far along, I want to let my readers know about this:

The Laramie Coiunty Democrats Grassroots Coalition (LCDGC) is holding a "Get Your Green On" celebration on Sunday, March 13, 5-8 p.m., in the community room at the Cheyenne Family YMCA. The Grassroots Coalition will provide corned beef and cabbage with soda bread. Gourmet cupcakes will be available for purchase with a chance to win a "Pot of Gold." Enjoy the entertainment, which may consist of local legend Michael O'Shea playing ditties on his Irish flute. Hear horror stories about the recently completed Wyoming Legislature, as witnessed by some of our local representatives (Charles Scott: "We don't need no stinkin' Medicaid expansion!"). Be sure to wear green. Prizes awarded for the best costumes. Bring a friend and your greenbacks. Suggested donation $15. Proceeds go to Democrats in Laramie County running for office in 2016.

So, wear green if you are Irish. Wear green if you aren't Irish. Green can also stand in for the greenies among us, and I'm not stalking about those people from Colorado, although you too are welcome. We have amongst us those who are going green in a big way, replacing coal with solar, wind, and geothermal. Some of us are trading in our gas guzzlers for electric vehicles that we plug in and recharge overnight. So, your costume may be a wind turbine, or possibly a Nissan Leaf auto body. Earth Day is right around the corner and it's the Democrats who are showing the way to clean energy. Green also can stand for those "Mr. Greenjeans" gardeners we have in Cheyenne. If you can grow a garden at 6,200 feet in Cheyenne or 7,200 feet in Laramie, you can grow a garden anywhere. Hats off to all of you, who may come dressed as a broccoli, green bean, zucchini or any other green growing thing.

BTW, the Laramie County Democratic Grassroots Coalition is the FUNdraising arm of the Laramie County Democrats. We had a blast, and raised more than $1,000 at the January POTluck FUNdraiser at Joe's house in Cheyenne. We hope to keep the money rolling in for Democrats, as we have seen the damage that can be done by a veto-proof Republican legislature. It ain't pretty. Our Dem friends in the House and Senate need some allies.

See you on March 13. Get your green on!

Directions to the YMCA: The YMCA is not accessible via Lincolnway. To reach the Y's parking lot, you have to approach from Logan Avenue via 18th Street -- it's on your left. Or you can come via 19th Street (one-way) and take a right on Alexander or via 20th Street (one-way) and take a left on Alexander. The Community Room is at the south end of the Y parking lot. If you have a GPS, use it.

Dems hold POTluck FUNdraiser Jan. 31 in Cheyenne

This invitation comes from Kathleen Petersen, president of the Laramie County Democratic Grassroots Coalition: 

The Laramie County Democratic Grassroots Coalition is sponsoring a POTluck FUNdraiser to kick off the election year of 2016. It will be on Sunday, January 31, from 5-8 p.m. at 3626 Dover Road, Cheyenne.  

Bring your signature food dish to enter into a contest to win GREAT prizes, which include three months membership at the YMCA, a free haircut by Joe Corrigan or a bottle of wine. The winners will be decided by attendees buying tickets to vote on their favorite dish. There will also be a 50/50 raffle.  

Our local legislators will bring us current legislative information, and a representative from NORML Wyoming will do a presentation about the petition initiative for medical marijuana (the petition will be available for signing).  

Grassroots Executive Board members will provide the desserts, which include their own special brownies. Also, if you haven't joined the Grassroots Coalition for this year, bring your membership money.

If you need a ride to the event, or need further information, contact Kathleen, 307-421-4496. Plan to come out and start our new year off right. 

See you Sunday, Jan. 31, It promises to be a fun and fact filled evening.

Low-sodium chili could be the key to turning Wyoming blue

On or about Jan. 2, 2013, I began considering sodium.

Didn't pay particular attention to it until my heart stopped functioning properly.

"Cut down on the salt," the cardiologists said.

"I don't put salt on my food," I replied.

They told me that salt is everywhere. In processed food -- all that stuff in the center aisles of your local grocery store. Frozen foods too.

"Frozen foods?" I asked. "Pizza and TV dinners and lasagna don't need salt."

"Check the labels," the docs advised.

Due to my wife's diabetes, I check labels for sugar and carbs. Sodium hadn't been a big concern. Until the widowmaker brought me to the ER and the attention of the cardio unit.

They halted my congestive heart failure and installed a stent. Put me on a cardiac diet. For a week, the nutritionist in the hospital kitchen told me what I couldn't have more often that she agreed with my dietary choices. Once I was out and about again, wandering the aisles of King Soopers, I read some amazing horror stories on food labels. Hormel Chili with beans, one of my faves, contained 990 mg. of sodium for one-cup serving. That meant that a can of chili, warmed up in the microwave and served during the Broncos game, gave me almost 500 mg of sodium more than the 1,500 mg. daily intake recommended by cardiologists. Throw in some "saltines" and cheese and beer and soon I was at the average of 3,400 mg. of sodium ingested daily by Americans.

That was a shocker. But prowling the frozen foods aisles was really enlightening. Those big pot pies are one of my guilty pleasures. I loved them as a kid. But they are loaded with sodium. Why? Freezing preserves the food, so salt and MSG are not necessary. One can only assume it's for the taste. We Americans love our salt! And what about the salt lobby? Is there some branch of The Illuminati that loads us with salt, making us compliant, water-logged, obese drones ready to do the bidding of this secret cabal? Get on this, Dan Brown!

Face it, our industrial food system is still stuck in mom's 1955 kitchen. Our families were so happy to be rid of the Depression and the world war, that we would do anything to have three squares a day. Salt was a celebrated part of the Great American Diet. Hell, the East Germans and the Chinese were starving. We got all Henry Ford on our food system. Mom and Dad showered us with mac and cheese and rump roasts and hot dogs and Wonder Bread and Hostess Twinkies.

Do I blame them? Hell no. All my mom got for Christmas during the 1930s was an orange and a handful of walnuts. Was she concerned with a little bit of salt? Hell no. She was happy to be feeding her kids -- all nine of them. They all grew up to be strapping lads and lassies, me included. I kept eating as if it was 1955 right up until my LAD artery got clogged and I went in for a Roto Rooter job.

So what is a 64-year-old American man supposed to do about food? Eat less. Eat right. Exercise more. Nothing I didn't already know. Then I didn't really, did I? I opted for the easy solution. Pizza and Big Macs and those big plates of food they serve you at every restaurant, especially here in Wyoming and my other home places in the South. I love all that barbecue and chicken-fried steak and burgers and ice cream. But I want to stick around for awhile. That doesn't mean that I, as a creative cook, can't come up with solutions.

Taste my chili -- please! I make a low-sodium chili that is not bad. I am not going to win any prizes at the chili cook-off. But I don't care about that. I just want it to taste good and get some appreciation from my friends and colleagues. You will not unduly tax your heart when eating my chili! I can make that boast.

I'm making a batch today in my slow cooker. I made some last week for the Broncos game and the chili was better than the game, especially when you consider the lackluster performance by Peyton Manning. I kept some as a starter dose for this weekend's chili/salsa/dessert fund-raiser put on by the Laramie County Democrats, which is Sunday, Oct. 25, from 6-8 p.m. Wyoming Democrats must pay attention to our longevity. There are so few of us that we can't stand to lose anyone to heart failure. I'm doing my part by cutting back on the sodium. A lowered heart rate might allow us to once again clinch a majority in both houses of the state legislature by 2050, the year I turn 100. Combine longevity with an influx of young immigrants eager to make their way in Wyoming's very creative atmosphere, and you have Democrats galore. You say that you can't move to Wyoming due to too many right-wing dingbats in the legislature? They can't live forever, especially when you consider the average Wyomingite's salt-laden diet. Be patient.

Today, low-sodium chili. Tomorrow, the world or, at least, WYO.

BTW, do I have a recipe? Not really. My only goal is to keep the sodium content below 350 mg. per one-cup serving, which is what nutritional guidelines recommend for all foods. That is approximately one-third of the Hormel Chili variety I referenced above. It's about one-half of the levels in Hormel low-sodium chili with beans.

That's progress!

Sunday barbecue with the Democrats

The Laramie County Democrats held a fund-raiser and barbecue this afternoon at AB Camping on College Drive, also home to a nifty diner. The food was delicious as always. I keep telling Chris that we have to get out to the diner some evening and try the ribs. She agrees, but for some reason we haven't done it.

Lee Filer arranged the shindig. He's friends with the owners and they aren't necessarily Democrats but friendship goes a long way in these parts. They give us the space for free and only charge us costs for the food. Pretty cool. Thanks AB Camping!

We listened to a few speeches, ate barbecue and cake, drank iced tea. Rep. Mary Throne commented that her Republican colleagues in the legislature are so negative. She urged us to stay positive as we get out and spread the Democratic Party brand. I had to think. How often am I positive and how often am I negative? About equal measure, I'd say. I write often about positive trends in my community and in Wyoming. The rise of farmer's markets and locally grown food and handmade arts and crafts. The state's music renaissance. The push for equality for all. I post about great people doing great things.

I tear down the opposition with regularity. They deserve the snark.

Or do they?

A hot day -- we don't get to 90 degrees very often. But the good conversation and great food make me forget about the heat. I keep thinking about how my reactions to hot weather has changed. I used to play softball all day and drink beer all night during central Florida summers. Went to the beach, too. Spent many hours in bodies of water, salt and fresh. I feel at home in the water and on dry land.

I'm a Democrat on dry land Wyoming. Outnumbered and -- obviously -- outgunned. I've been in that boat in other states, too. Florida. Colorado, although it helped that I was a Denverite. There's a cachet to being a minority liberal in a majority conservative state. Election days are always tough, but hope abides. We work hard for our issues and candidates but the "R" Know Nothing factor is tough to beat at the polls.

I read a NYT article this morning that Pres. Obama will announce a new energy plan tomorrow at the White House. It places restrictions on coal-burning power plants and stresses renewable energy sources. The Republicans will scream bloody murder, as they always do. King Coal will be around for awhile yet, but its days are numbered. All the Republicans can do is whine and obstruct. They have no new ideas. The presidential candidates keep trying to out-crazy one another. That's what seems to get votes on the Republican side. Thursday night's first so-called debate should be a hoot.

Farmer's markets are for fresh produce -- and for dithering

The drive from Palisade, Colorado, to the Cheyenne Farmer's Market is eight hours.

I'm glad that Red Fox Run Orchards made the trip for the first time. Juicy peaches. Tree-ripened. The vendor tells me that most growers pick their peaches green because it's easier. He lets them ripen on the tree so they taste better. My daughter Annie and I ask for a sample. He plucks two peaches out of a "Palisades Peaches" box. He rinses them off and hands them over with a couple paper towels. "You'll need these -- they're juicy." I look at the whole peach. Most vendors cut off a slice and hand it over. Not this guy. I bite. Juice dribbles down my chin. The paper towel comes in handy.

I buy a large bag. "Keep them in a refrigerator for a week -- they'll keep fresh," says the vendor. I always thought that putting peaches in the fridge was a no-no. But it makes sense if they're already ripe.

I thank him. Grab my peaches and my "This Side of Paradise" canvas bag Annie and I walk on to the next table. At the farmer's market, I gather produce and stories. Food has stories, as do I. I don't take it as far as the characters on "Portlandia," who want to know the name and background of the free range chicken they're about the eat. But I ask every vendor where they're from, as it usually carries a story. The young man selling roasted chilis is from Wellington and drives up to Cheyenne every weekday to wire new houses as an electrician. He's roasting and selling chilis on weekends. Building Cheyenne during the week. He rattled off the names of housing developments going up around the county. One on Four Mile Road. A big apartment complex on Fox Farm Road. He's working at The Pointe just north of us, wiring two to three houses a week.

The family-run Canning Crows from Cheyenne does what you'd expect from the name. Well, their goods are in jars but when people talk about preserving harvests they usually says they are "canning" cukes and tomatoes. Not "jarring," which is what it really is. It is jarring to me when they say canning. I buy a jar of Soldier Jam. "You can tell we're a military family," says the vendor with a smile. She points to a loaf of bread. "Survival Bread," she says. "My son was deployed." She tells me that a quarter of every sale of Soldier Jam goes to send jam to GIs overseas. "Or they can come by and pick it up here," she adds. I buy a jar of Soldier Jam and a loaf of Survival Bread. I also buy a big jar of dill pickles because I am a pickle fanatic. Dill pickle brine has loads of salt so after my heart attack, I cut back. Does pickling demand salt? A question for the Internet. I look forward to my lunch of bread and jam and pickles.

My dithering drives Annie crazy. She's 22 and prone to action. I tell her that farmer's markets are for lingering and conversation and learning about foods. The vendors have at least some interest in their products, or they wouldn't be here. They also are making a living. I can tell when my dithering makes them impatient. So I pay and move on. The coffee lady from Fort Collins sells me some nitro dark roast for my iced coffee. The last time I had nitro it was Odell's Cutthroat Porter from behind the bar at Peppermill's. The porter had a nice head on it. The coffee did not, which kind of surprised me. But it was tasty with some Half & Half and sugar.

We end of morning by buying some Colorado corn, although it seems early for corn. We get some local salsa and then head home to snack.

Ireland's Great Hunger lives on

"Skibbereen 1847" by Cork artist James Mahony (1810–1879), commissioned by The Illustrated London News, 1847

I have never been hungry enough to eat grass or old shoe leather.

Ireland's Great Hunger starved a million Irish and sent many packing for America. Some starved and sickened along the way in the so-called coffin ships. Those left at home ate anything they could find. Many starved anyway.

Our English overlords stood by and did nothing. They did import corn to Ireland but none of the starvelings could afford it. Some relief came from unexpected sources. Knowing what it was like to starve on "The Trail of Tears," Cherokees in Oklahoma sent food to the Irish. The Turks did too.

A mythology builds up around any earth-shaking event that causes the diaspora of hundreds of thousands of people. The Irish have immortalized the Great Hunger in song and story and art. Family stories, too. My own Shay relatives left Ireland for the U.S. in 1847. They farmed in New England and then moved to Iowa, where they prospered. They may have hungered and thirsted through the years, when drought and pestilence visited the Iowa City area. But they were never threatened with starvation of the type they faced in Ireland.

Even amidst prosperity, does the Great Hunger linger within us?

According to an article on the Irish Central web site:

Irish historian Oonagh Walsh believes that the Great Hunger triggered a higher rate of mental illness among later generations, including both those who stayed in Ireland and those who emigrated. 

She believes that severe nutritional deprivation between 1845-1850 caused "epigenetic change." Here's more:

Epigenetics is the study of changes in gene expression. These do not necessarily involve changes to the genetic code, but the effects may persist for several generations. Walsh estimated that the impact from epigenetic change from the Great Hunger lasted for a century and a half.  

Walsh’s research is still at an early stage, but she expects to see a correlation between the high rates of mental illness and the effects of maternal starvation. She also thinks there may be a connection between the Great Hunger and cardiovascular and other diseases.

Just think about this a bit. We all know that mental and physical traits can "run in a family." Red hair, height, odd behavior. Remember Aunt Clara? We had to keep her in the attic -- she thought she was the Queen of Sheba.

What if our genes, damaged by cataclysmic hunger, contributed to Aunt Clara's delusions?

Researchers have been busily studying the causes of mental illness for generations. Genetics play a role. Trauma, too, as in PTSD. And what is starvation if not a major trauma, as important as war or torture or physical abuse?

Walsh has also researched the dramatic growth in Irish lunatic asylums in the 19th century. The first was built a dozen years before the potato famine. But it continued well into the latter part of the century, along with increased patient populations. They included those with behavior problems as well as "lunatics at large." Families stashed their problem children in the asylums; Aunt Clara too. Husbands stashed inconvenient wives in asylums, freeing them to marry a newfound love interest.

The U.S. built asylums, too. Many are now closed, the sites of horrendous treatment of patients, torture and murder. Others grew up as medications and treatment options improved.

The Wyoming State Hospital in Evanston opened in 1887, three years before statehood, and was first called the Wyoming Insane Asylum. I don't have to imagine "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" scenes or strait jackets and padded rooms and lobotomies -- I'm sure all of that happened there as it did at other asylums, from Ken Kesey's Oregon State Hospital to the notorious Trenton State Hospital in New Jersey. Society's cast-offs are always treated badly.

We are now enlightened. We have super-drugs for the mentally ill. Our treatment has gone beyond shock therapy and mind-numbing drugs. We are stardust. We are golden.

If only that were true.

Anyone with a mentally ill family member knows the challenges of finding the right treatments. This isn't a problem faced only by rural states such as Wyoming. It is a problem everywhere.

It is refreshing to see researchers such as Oonagh Walsh dig deeper into the origins of mental illness. Perhaps my grandfathers' depression was due to being shell-shocked in World War I. Perhaps it was part of the epigenetic change inflicted on his Irish forebears. That doesn't help him, as he's long gone. But it might help me, an aging Irish-American who also suffers from depression.

It may also help my daughter, who's had major struggles with her mental illness since she was 14. She now is a patient as the place formerly known as the Wyoming Insane Asylum. Her parents are now trying to help her in any way we can. Some of that is practical parental involvement. We are strong advocates for our daughter. Knowledge is part of that. We more we know, the better.

And this is what feeds my imagination: the vision of a starving mother in 1847 scouring the fields of County Cork for a few grains of barley. Her future depends on it. She may starve, but the memory of it will last for generations.    

Some final words about Mental Health Awareness Week

I could not let Mental Health Awareness Week go by without commenting.

The week, promoted by the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), was a week filled with a flurry of social media posts, including a series of images (see one above). Thursday, Oct. 9, was National Depression Screening Day. I’ve already had mine – several in fact -- and depression was located in various regions of my body – my heart, my celebral cortex, my Islets of Langerhans. I take meds for it, see my psychiatrist every six months and my therapist every week. I work out at the YMCA every other day and eat right.

Last weekend I made chili for the Broncos game. This is not a recommended treatment for depression. Following the Broncos may even cause depression – the jury’s still out. I make my own chili because I love chili and the store-bought variety comes with tons of salt. Too much salt causes my heart to work harder to get rid of fluid build-up. An overworked heart negates the medication I take to keep it calm and reliable. An overworked heart may go into a fatal arrhythmia and would cause my ICD to kick in which, in turn, would cause me to flop around on the floor like a fish. Depression would follow, as would stares of passers-by.

Homemade chili, you see, can ease both heart disease and depression. Mine features lots of pepper slices and tomatoes, our planet’s super-food. No-salt-added tomato sauce. It’s meaty with the lowest-fat hamburger I can find. Flavoring is a problem that no amount of Mrs. Dash, cumin, and chili power can remedy. Our taste buds are primed for salt and lots of it. We need some salt as our body’s origins are in the briny deep. I’m still working on that part of the chili challenge.

It’s not that easy to get the same attention for mental illness as is given to heart disease. I’m pleased that heart disease gets lots of attention and much funding. I might not be alive if that were not the case. I am pleased that my local hospital has a spiffy new cancer center and that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Everyone wears pink, even NFL players and cowboys (at least they do every summer at the CFD Rodeo's "Tough enough to wear pink" day). As for the NFL -- those were some bitchin’ pink cleats that the Houston and Indy players were wearing on Thursday Night Football. Good game, too.

I didn’t spy many green ribbons or green shoes this week. As I said, social media lit up with references to depression and schizophrenia and bipolar. USA Today did a series on mental illness and suicide. Nice job – I read it all. Shocking stats revealed that 40,000 Americans killed themselves last year. It’s shocking enough that an average of 22 military veterans take their lives daily. But to really be shocked, you have to read their stories. Many don’t get any help at all, or the right kind of help. But many do and still kill themselves. Many civilians with mental illnesses don’t get any help at all, or can’t afford it, or don’t get the proper treatments. They jump off bridges or shoot themselves or OD on pills with alarming regularity. Does that mean it’s hopeless? No, but people who feel hopeless may not get help because of the stigma attached to mental illness or the “cowboy up” mentality that we have in Wyoming and other western states. “Cowboy up” is not a helpful response to someone who needs help. “Tough it out” or “lighten up” – also not helpful responses. But you can’t really blame people. If they haven’t experienced a mental health challenge themselves or with a friend or family members, they may be clueless.

I walk around with an Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator in my chest. My wife Chris walks around with an insulin pump on her hip. We often get into lively discussions with people with heart disease and diabetes. We compare experiences and devices. Growing old, it seems, is filled with these types of conversations. Having a heart attack gives you carte blanche to bore everyone silly with your story.

Want to stop a lively conversation in its tracks? Bring up mental illness. Chris was at a community gathering this week and was having a good old time talking to old friends about her meter and my ICD. Lots of people have encounters with heart abnormalities and blood sugar levels. But when they asked about our daughter -- let's call her Margaret -- and Chris told them she was in a mental health treatment center, the conversation stopped. Crickets chirped. Tumbleweeds rolled through the room. The friends excused themselves and Chris was left standing there, an intriguing story hanging from her lips.

Too bad they didn’t stick around to hear the story. Margaret has received a variety of diagnoses. Bipolar. Borderline personal disorder, with and without bipolar. Severe depression. She’s a cutter too, you see, which usually freaks out the uninitiated. It freaked me out when I first found out about it. She’s used knives, box cutters, razors and even broken glass to carve a topo map of scars on her arms and legs and stomach. It’s a constant reminder of her traumas. It will always be a reminder to her as the challenges she faced as a teen and young woman. She may arrive at a place where she can live with her mental illness, maybe even outgrow the worst symptoms. But she’ll always have the scars. When she’s 63 as I am now, her grandchildren may ask, “Grandma, where did you get those scars?” She can tell any story she wants, as grandparents do. But I have a feeling she will share the truth. That may help them somewhere down the line. This mental illness runs in our family, you see, and DNA has a funny way of replicating itself. Science may come up with answers. Better, more targeted drugs with fewer side-effects. Better and more widely available therapy. Less stigma. Empathy breaking out all over.

Meanwhile, there are social media images to post and blogs to write. Chili warms on the stove. Life is a series of little treatments, tiny steps, unexpected laughter. Sorrow awaits you around every turn. Be aware.      

June 11 bash for Dameione Cameron raises money and awareness

We attended a campaign launch party last night for Dameione Cameron. He's running as a Democrat for Senate District 7. There were a fair number of Republicans at this Dem bash, which is always a good sign in a state where Repubs outnumber Dems two-to-one or possibly even more. The crowd was also younger than usual, with an average age somewhere in the 40s. I represent the upper end of the scale. The younger cohort wandered through the crowd, signing up unsuspecting people for volunteer duty. The energy was palpable, as were the the trays of wings (spicy and not-so), bowls of watermelon and coolers filled with good beer. This was fitting for a candidate whose origins are in the Carolina low country, a practicing attorney who runs -- with Troy Rumpf, his partner of 18 years -- the best restaurant in Cheyenne, the Morris House Bistro. The Air Force brought the candidate to Cheyenne and he stayed on for the adventure, although the Clemson grad gets back to the low country as often as he can -- especially in the winter.

One interesting side note -- Dameione, Troy and the Morris House Bistro are sponsoring a little invitation-only soiree next week that leads into the Wyoming Brewer's Festival, which I and hundreds of my fellow beer lovers will attend next weekend at the Depot Plaza. The Morris House Bistro party will team up craft beers with craft foods, which is as it should be. Make mine shrimp and grits with Ellie's Brown Ale or a bomber of The Reverend from Avery Brewing in Boulder.

Cameron does not have a challenger in the Democratic primary. In the general election, he'll be running against Republican Leslie Nutting, whose name sums it up. 

Volunteer!

Vote!

Laramie County Democrats hold 2014 campaign kick-off June 1

The Laramie County Democrats will hold its 2014 campaign kick-off on Sunday, June 1, 2-5 p.m. All the action will take place in the pavilion at A&B Camping, 1503 W. College Ave., Cheyenne.

Any of you who know the barbecue at A&B will want to come out for the pulled pork, beef and brisket. Stay to meet the Dem candidates, some of whom will be making their first public appearance that features bbq and beer: Mike Wieland, HD9, Gaylan Wright, HD10 and Dameione Cameron, SD44. Incumbents include Rep. Mary Throne, HD11, Rep. Ken Esquibel, HD41, Rep. James Byrd, HD44 and Rep. Lee Filer HD12, our co-sponsor for the event.

Tickets are $15 per person, with children ages 6-10 $10 and 5-and-under free. This is a fund-raiser, so I encourage you to buy tickets early and often to support those who work for science education, the arts, economic development, health care for everyone, renewable resources and all other sensible and human-friendly policies.

I have a few tickets sitting beside my home computer. Leave a comment and tell me how many you want. You can buy tix on-site but we'd like to get a head count in advance so we don't run out of grub.

See you at the kick-off.