Dear UF: No donations for you until Gov D is gone

Feb. 17. 2026

TO:             University of Florida Annual Giving Program

FROM:       Michael T. Shay

RE:             Gator Nation Stand Up and Holler Giving Day

I am a proud Florida Gator, class of ’76. I have donated to UF when the budget will allow. I’m retired now and the budget allows but I am not donating and there is one reason for that: Interference in UF by Gov. Ron DeSantis and the GOP-run Florida State Legislature.

It is alarming to see the search for a UF president go on and on as we await DeSantis’s choice to rule the state’s flagship university, my alma mater. These right-wing politicos take their order from the Trump wing of the GOP and it has led to disaster on the national and international scenes.

So today, on the eve of Giving Day, looking at Mr. 2-Bits’ tie pinned to the bulletin board above my PC, I decline to donate until DeSantis and his MAGA goons are gone. Instead, I donated $25 to the Independent Florida Alligator. Their reporters are on the case and I will continue to follow the Alligator with interest and with whatever support I can send their way.

I leave you with this:

Two-bits, four-bits, six-bits, a dollar

All for an independent UF stand up and holler!

The crowd cheers.

Editor's Note: Read the Alligator's latest story on the unending UF presidential search.

Author Michael Connelly delves into Florida experience for next streaming series

Michael Connelly, best-selling author and UF and Independent Florida Alligator alum is now writing about his days as a reporter in Daytona Beach in the 1980s. He’s also writing about his time covering crime in Fort Lauderdale which includes forays into the South Florida cocaine wars.

I met Connelly in the first part of this century at the Los Angeles Times Book Festival. I came to town for the Wyoming Arts Council to meet with colleagues at WESTAF, our regional arts organization. Now Creative West, it keeps track of the MAGA attacks on the arts funding world through its Action Center. 

I waited in a long line to meet Connelly at the L.A. Bookfest at UCLA and he signed two books because I wore my Gators cap. The Gator connection led him to take a book tour detour to Wyoming a few years later and many fans turned out.

The first Connelly novel I read was "The Poet" (1996) because it was a mystery about poetry (I thought) and it's set among the two Denver newspapers I once worked for. From 1978-82, I was writing in-depth articles about prep football, college hockey, and the Coors Classic cycling race. After that, I was managing editor and columnist for Up the Creek weekly which had its origins covering rec softball leagues and wet T-shirt contests at Glendale singles bars. I still have clips if you’re looking for something to read about the halcyon days of the 80s.  

In The Poet, Jack McEvoy is a crime reporter for The Rocky. When his twin brother Sean, a Denver homicide detective, is murdered. McEvoy pursues the story. He finds  his brother’s murder was staged, and uncovers a pedophile ring which leads to other murders committee by a serial killer known as The Poet because he features Poe in his killings. I was impressed. I read more and now have quite a collection. The book won 1997 awards from the Mystery Writers of America and the Independent Mystery Booksellers Association. 

When I moved to Denver in 1978, the RMN and Post were battling for readers. The Post won the fight.  

When I met Connelly in L.A., I asked if he ever made it to Wyoming. His answer, as I suspected, was no. I asked if he might take a 100-mile detour from his next Denver book stop if we could find funding for a presentation, reading, and book signing in Cheyenne, Wyoming’s oft-neglected capital city. He put me in touch with his agent and the YMCA Writers Voice chapter wrote a grant and brought him to town. An SRO crowd came to the Y’s meeting room where an arts exhibit arranged by my wife Chris was on display. A great time was had by all. Barnes & Noble sold a lot of books.

That meeting room is now forever empty. The Cheyenne Family YMCA closed its doors for good yesterday. No more swimming pool. No more creaky weight machines. No more Writers Voice.

I send whatever I can to arts organizations in Wyoming, Florida, and elsewhere. I will report on some of those entities in the coming months. The anti-arts savagery shown by Trump and his minions have taken a big bite out of the creative industry. Not surprising since arts and arts education were prime targets of Project 2025.

I hear from poet and performer M.L. Liebler in Detroit that “all of our programs getting money from the NEA has collapsed.” Medical research funding has also been hit: “All research on cancer has been halted.”

In "Untamed," the most ferocious animal in our national parks is not the bear

I finished watching "Untamed" last night. It's a limited series on Netflix starring Eric Bana, Sam Neil, Lily Santiago, and Rosemarie DeWitt, and a great supporting cast. It's set in Yosemite National Park. Shots of El Capitan and other familiar landmarks are blended into the narrative filmed in British Columbia. We again see a series set in the wild landscapes of the U.S. and filmed elsewhere, usually Canada, Trump's imaginary 51st state. The landscapes are gorgeous to look at and made me miss Wyoming and Colorado. The peaks. the trails winding through forests, the sparkling waters of the creeks. Even the ranger unis made me ache for the West. Rangers were our friends, men and women who welcomed us to the parks,  delivered campfire chats, and kept things orderly. 

I give high marks to "Untamed," its grim storyline and fine acting. It involved me for some five hours. Child abduction. drug-dealing, missing Native American women, murder, and treachery play roles. That is sometimes offset by sheer grandeur. But one  thought I came away with was: is this what we've become? We live harsh lives and are harsh with each other. Was it always this way or is it all grim now?

One more thing. Humans can be more savage than predatory animals. That was brought out in the first episode by fearsome roar of a grizzly at a cabin door. Lions and tigers and bears! But humans remain the deadliest animal. First scene. Climbers scaling El Capitan. It is a long way down, a dangerous business this rock climbing. Just as the top climber bangs a spike into the rocks, he looks up and sees a body falling toward him. The body snags the rope and pulls down the climbers but they don't fall. We see a close-up of the body. It is a young woman, clothes ripped, dead eyes stare up. We know the mystery. Did she jump or was she pushed? 

It's worth watching. Some scenes stay with me. One takes place in the morgue where the dead woman's (Lucy Cook) body is being stored while park investigators try to discover her identity. National Park Service Investigative Branch Ranger Kyle Turner (Bana) and his new assistant, former L.A. cop Naya Vasquez,  try to solve it. There follows lots of creepiness but the scene that lingers is in the morgue. Turner finds a cellphone hidden in the dead woman's backpack. It needs a photo I.D. to open. He takes it to the morgue and requests a picture of the corpse's face. No dice. The eyes have to be open. The morgue tech puts drops in the eyes to make them open unnaturally. Phone still won't open. The morgue tech says hydrogen peroxide has been known to bring life back to dead skin, warm it so it registers for the camera. He brushes it on the cheeks. Bama takes another photo and it works, the phone is unlocked and we're on the way to a resolution or so we think. I was left with the image of Lucy Cook, dead, again staring up, asking "why did you forsake me?"

The New York Times' Mike Hale reviewed the show. The reviewer's main takeaway was the show's bad timing. So who has time to pursue killers when DOGE cuts leave nobody to clean the bathrooms or break up Yellowstone bear jams? Good point. 

An accompanying NYT story tells of the few remaining park employees being tasked by the Trump regime with removing comments that "disparage America" from monuments, trail signs, and printed material. Our sins against black slaves and native peoples are being purged from the public records. If this sounds Orwellian to you, you've read Orwell and you're dead-on. The Know Nothings have won. The South has risen again. And we're all up Shit's Creek, somewhere out in the American wilderness.

Post #3,999

H.L. Mencken predicted it, Hunter S. Thompson would have nailed it

Baltimore's H.L. Mencken may have been the most quotable of newspaper reporters. Some comments are crass and insensitive. Others dug deep into the heart of darkness. Here's one:

On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.

You may know Mencken by his Broadway/Hollywood persona -- E.K. Hornbeck, the cranky cynical reporter in "Inherit the Wind." Here he is blasting attorney Henry Drummond (a.k.a. Clarence Darrow) who is representing the defendant in the Scopes Monkey Trial. Hornbeck is the devil sitting on Drummond's world-weary shoulders. Here's how Hornbeck sees it:

Looks like you're going out in a blaze of glory counselor. You were pretty impressive for a while there today, Henry. "Your Honor, after a while you'll be setting man against man, creed against creed" etc, etc, ad nauseam unquote. AHH, Henry! why don't you wake up? Darwin was Wrong! Man's still an ape. His creed still a totem pole. When he first achieved the upright position he took a look at the stars... thought they were something to eat. When he couldn't reach them, he thought they were groceries belonging to a bigger creature... that's how Jehovah was born.

I would love to hear Mencken on Trump & Co. And Hunter S. Thompson, the Sage of Woody Creek, Colo., where are you when we need you?

I guess it's just us. Just little ol' us.

Dear Florida Legislators: Don't monkey around with our state parks

The Sunday Outlook section in the March 2 News-Journal included an editorial by the USA Today Network-Florida Opinion Group. Header: "Support legislation to restrict future development in Florida's parks." An excerpt: "Floridians don't want to see their state parks spoiled by excessive clearing, paving, and building." There was an outcry last year when someone in state government leaked a plan "to put hotels, golf courses, pickleball courts and other development in nine targeted state parks." That plan disappeared but now there's a bill threatening state parks in the Florida Legislature. So USA Today staff requested letters, op-eds, and photos "to remind lawmakers that they should vote to protect some of our most prized assets."

They asked. I responded with this op-ed:

Save Florida State Parks

The road known now as The Loop was uncrowded when our family first visited Tomoka State Park in September 1964. Two adults, eight kids, and a dog crowded into a Ford Falcon station wagon and made the drive along a tree-shrouded road to the park. We grew up in Colorado where you drive to a park through wide-open vistas until you get to your mountain destination where the trees were. This was a different kind of experience, almost magical. It was jungle full of snakes, alligators and armadillos.

We were kids on that first visit 61 years ago, We romped around the park. Mom warned us about snakes and we didn’t hear anything she said because we were busy playing. We went down to the Tomoka River and looked for rocks to skip along the shore but found none. But we saw turtles and imagined giant gators around the bend in the river. We knew there were creatures called sea cows under the tannin-infused river water.

What a place. “The Legend of Chief Tomokie” statue was still in fine form in ’64. Built by noted sculptor Fred Dana Marsh in 1957, the legend was based on one invented by the daughter of the founder of The Halifax Journal. I thought it was amazing, impressed that Florida had Indians too, most of them long-dead from the civilizing effects of white explorers and settlers. Over time, my brothers and I camped with our father in Tomoka and we ventured out there with our Boy Scout troop that met in Ormond’s First Methodist Church. We eventually saw many snakes and gators. Florida wildlife was amazing. The following summer, when my brother Dan and I went to our first Scout summer camp at La-No-Che near Paisley, we were told to watch out for water moccasins dropping into our canoes from the Spanish Moss-draped cypress trees. To a teen, what could be cooler than that?

Over the years, I’ve camped in Juniper Springs, O’Leno, and Sebastian Inlet state parks. I’ve floated the iconic Ichetucknee, canoed the Withlacoochee (Crooked River), and cruised the Wakulla. We spent our honeymoon on a scuba trip to John Pennekamp Coral Reef. It all fed my love of nature. When I graduated from UF and returned West for a job, my wife and I spent all of our spare time in Colorado and Wyoming state and national parks. We shared these experiences with our children; they are stored in memories and photo albums.

My wife and I returned to Ormond Beach in August. One of our first trips was to Tomoka State Park. Retired and disabled from a bad fall, I get around on an electric scooter. Much of Tomoka was accessible to me. I rode my scooter down the road to the dilapidated Tomokie statue but then got stuck in the sand. Two young mountain bikers pushed me out. They were there to ride the trails. We retreated to The Outpost near the boat launch area and drank lemonade. We listened to the birds and watched boats navigate the river. We enjoyed the day and vowed to return. We will continue doing so as long as it remains a state park and doesn’t morph into some raucous Disney-style resort.

Our daughter moved to Ormond Beach in January. A Wyoming native, she’s already explored Tomoka, viewed the manatees at Blue Spring State Park, and taken a scenic cruise on the St. Johns.

I send an appeal to the Florida Legislature. Do not despoil our great state parks with golf courses, pickleball courts, and tourist lodges. We have enough of those elsewhere. Leave us the Great Outdoors, our sacred spaces.

"All the President's Men" meant one thing in the 1970s and an absurdly different one in 2025

I watched "All the President's Men" on TCM Monday night, and not for the first time. A fantastic political thriller in which the good guys win.

In 2025 Trumplandia, "All the President's Men" seems, well, how do I say this? Quaint? Outdated? Just more Boomer nostalgia?

Yet, the GOP's 1970s illegal activities against the Democrats were both real and disgusting. 

But when compared with Trump's 2025 crimes against America, well, the old depredation looks mild.

Nixon and pals took great pains to cover up their misdeeds. All the lying tied them in knots of denial. They couldn't keep it quiet because real journalists from real newspapers and networks kept doing their jobs. And elected Democrats AND especially Republicans remembered their oaths of office.

The difference with Trump and his MAGA minions? They tell us their misdeeds and do them openly. Trump and Musk brag about them. Their backers spent millions outlining their plans in Project 2025. It was all there for us to read. Journalists were not around to awaken the slumbering multitudes. The New York Times could not do it alone. The Washington Post was a lost cause. Metropolitan dailies had been run into the ground by hedge fund babies. And the GOP was not in thrall to "Fearless Leader."

I was a young man of 21 when the Watergate break-in happened. That November was the first time I voted in national elections at a little church on Boston's Beacon Hill. I voted for McGovern as did many in Massachusetts that day. 

Fat lot of good it did us. Draft-age men were turning out to vote for The Peace Candidate in the hopes that this rural Dem from the West would stop feeding us into the Vietnam meat-grinder. It was odd that this heroic World War 2 veteran would be the peacenik on the ticket but that was the case. Nixon served but he wasn't piloting a B-24 bomber dodging flak and Messerschmitts over Germany. In ATPM, the 1972 elections play out in the background on TV screens.  During that campaign, Nixon worked behind the scenes to manipulate the Paris Peace Talks. His skullduggery extended the war.

But Nixon and his henchmen came tumbling down, thanks to media and the actions of Democrats and Republicans in Congress. This didn't cause us to run for Congress but it did cause many of us to go into journalism. Up-and-coming Woodwards and Bernsteins were everywhere. 

I was an English major during my years at UF but I did take a journalism course and worked for UF Information Services and The Independent Florida Alligator student paper. We knew that the truth could bring down warmongers and slimy political operatives

But America is a big place and soon we learned that the whims of the populace are unpredictable. And here we are now. Old, disabled, and stunned. That describes me. 

But Americans are waking up and speaking out. We donated to Josh Weil, the Democrat running for the House in Florida District 6, a post held previously by a Trump flunky. We donated to the Democratic Party's campaign to stymie Trump's Project 2025 rampage. 

I will not shop on Amazon on Feb. 28 because of Bezos's collaboration with Trump (damn I've spent a lot of money on Amazon). Other businesses are being boycotted for the day. Money is what MAGA understands so hit 'em where it hurts.

Breaking: Daytona Evening News 08/16/1972: All heck breaks out in Miami

Reading the Daytona Beach Evening News: City Final. Price 10 cents.

Some interesting headlines:

Youthful and Elderly Protesters Join in ‘Gripes’ on Nixon Policies

After Haggling Aplenty, Campsite Finally Slated to Open Thursday

Askew Orders 15 Pct. Increase in Welfare

Argentine Leftists Stage Wild Jailbreak-Hijacking

Speaking of Hijacks…Airlines Find Subject Less Than Amusing

Display ad placed by a consortium of local banks in bottom left corner has an illustration of a man reclining in an easy chair in front of a TV set. He is smoking a cigar and holding a highball. The text: 

Pro and college football, the World Series, coming up. This little guy has it made. How about you? We’ll finance your color TV. Fact is, we’ll finance the adjustable lounge chair. You finance the cool drink. Have a nice day – have a colorful fall.

Dateline: August 16, 1972

It’s going to be hot and sticky with a high temp of 88 and humidity at 82. Ocean temp: 78.

Welcome to Daytona Beach 53 years ago.

The newspaper is yellowed but you can still see the track marks on the margins from the printing press. It’s a big broadsheet, a size you no longer see. Newspapers have downsized and disappeared.

I was 21 and hitching across America with my girlfriend. We were in Utah or Colorado – I didn’t keep a journal then so I can’t be sure. Wherever I was, I probably wasn’t reading the morning or evening papers. I was reading “Travels with Charley” by John Steinbeck who wrote it to reconnect with America. “I did not know my own country,” he wrote.  I was aware that Republicans were conventioneering in Miami and there were protests going on. I didn’t know that Vietnam Veterans Against the War members were there and we would be hearing more from them later. I didn’t know that a gonzo reporter named Hunter S. Thompson was covering the fracas and would be famous for his “Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ’72.”

As were so many others, I was out there looking for America. I found it too. It was wonderful and exciting. My favorite summer. I had no clue who Ron Kovic was and what he was experiencing in his heart and on the streets of Miami. I didn’t yet know the name of Scott Camil and the Gainesville Eight were not yet named the Gainesville Eight. I thought I knew a lot but I knew nothing but how much fun it was to be 21 and traveling with a beautiful woman and free of the Selective Service Draft. We met and partied with other young people on the road. It was glorious.

I did read part of this morning’s Daytona Beach News-Journal. I skipped the headlines because I didn’t want to see them. Yes, it’s Martin Luther King, Jr., Day, a day which I used to spend marching for Martin. It also is another day that I am ignoring. I would rather read above the cute Welsh Corgi named Taco that Palm Coast police take along as a therapy dog. Nice photo – one lovable dog. I did look at the weather. It’s going to be cold, folks, surprisingly cold for Florida. I looked up at my big TV. It’s a nice one, Roku HD4. I am not turning it on today. Not protesting in any park but I’ve done that many times. We put on some fine Inauguration Day protests in 2017 and 2018. More than 1,000 people came to our Jan. 21, 2017, Wyoming Women’s March protest in tiny Cheyenne, Wyoming. People I knew from Laramie and Casper and Fort Collins were there. I made my famous almost-salt-free chili for the post-protest feed. We plugged in so many crockpots at the Cheyenne Historic Depot that the power went out. Despite the downer reason for the protest, a fine time was had by all. Local TV and newspaper covered the event. Lots of photos on our cellphone cameras. I will share one with you if I can find it in my photo cache.

I’m returning to my newspaper. In 1972, Volusia County had six A&P stores and now there are none. In 1972, I could buy a loaf of white bread for 22 cents and a pound of coffee for 69 cents. A pack of frozen waffles was 10 cents and a big box of Sugar Frosted Flakes sold for 55 cents (Everyday Low Price!). No prices are listed for eggs but they were cheap, I know that, maybe as cheap as they’re going to be starting today. I can’t wait.

P.S.: You might wonder why I was reading a 1972 newspaper. It was included in a packet of stuff sent to me by my sister who is downsizing and cleaning decades of storage from her house. She knows I’m a history buff who writes about arcane stuff.

It can't happen here! Oh yes it can!

Susan Stubson of Casper has been writing Wyoming-based op-ed columns for many years. Most have to do with her family and her husband Tim who once was a state legislator and ran unsuccessfully for a Wyoming's lone U.S. House seat in 2016. Susan is a fine pianist and I've been on hand to hear her perform. She once sat on the board of the Wyoming Arts Council where I worked for 25 years. You could not find a more determined advocate of the arts and arts education. 

Sunday's New York Times op-ed section featured a column by Susan, "What Christian Nationalism Has Done to My State and My Faith is a Sin." It takes guts to write a column like this for the most Liberal of Mainstream Media. She could have written it for my modest blog and a few Wyomingites, liberals mostly, would have read it and nodded their heads. But a NYT op-ed -- that gets attention. This is an era when getting attention from Christian Nationalists is a dangerous proposition.

She opens her column with an anecdote from her husband's 2016 campaign:

I first saw it while working the rope line at a monster-truck rally during the 2016 campaign by my husband, Tim, for Wyoming’s lone congressional seat. As Tim and I and our boys made our way down the line, shaking hands and passing out campaign material, a burly man wearing a “God bless America” T-shirt and a cross around his neck said something like, “He’s got my vote if he keeps those [epithet] out of office,” using a racial slur. What followed was an uncomfortable master class in racism and xenophobia as the man decanted the reasons our country is going down the tubes. God bless America.

Those of us paying attention during the 2016 presidential election had similar experiences, especially if you were active in the Republican Party. But it goes way beyond that. Those "God, Guns, Trump" signs still adorn pick-up bumpers in the Wyoming capital of Cheyenne. We are 180 highway miles from the Stubson's city of Casper. We are rivals and different in many ways but Susan's description of WYO GOP antics was on full display here during the legislative session. I refer you to WyoFile's coverage of the session to get insight on the debacle.

Read Susan's column and despair. The problem of Christian Nationalism is right out there in the open. Trump turned religion and hate into commodities, one being trumpeted by those who ban books and drag shows across the country. It is magnified when you live in a rural state such as Wyoming. Doesn't have to be that way but that's the course Republicans decided to follow. Wyoming Rev. Rodger McDaniel wondered on Facebook recently if Florida wasn't the Berlin of the 1930s. You know the one, the creeping evil theatre-goers experience when they go to "Cabaret." If you know your history, you see how it happened -- one tiny bite at a time. Fascism isn't a special-effects movie monster -- it's your preacher or priest, your neighbor, your cousin. 

“When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross.”

This quote has been attributed to Nobel-Prize-winning writer Sinclair Lewis but researchers do not vouch for the exact attribution. But it’s worth repeating in these times. For more of Lewis’s biting critique of life in the U.S., look up some of his other quotes or read “Babbitt,” “Main Street,” or "It Can't Happen Here." For some strange reason, this last one about a dystopian America shot up the bestseller charts after the 2016 election. 

Miami Herald drops a word bomb on Florida governor

From today's article in the Business Insider piece about a Miami Herald op-ed about Florida Governor Ron DeSantis and his "Christian Nationalist shtick:”

"The governor's Christian nationalist shtick only separates us," the paper says, adding that Democrats should "counter it more boldly and bring back into their tent voters who feel that, on the issues of religion and faith, the party has nothing to say to them." Read entire article at Business Insider.

I would send you to the full Miami Herald but it has a very sturdy paywall. I already subscribe to several notable newspapers and the Herald is one but not now. Also, it sometimes drops the paywall in emergencies such as killer hurricanes. So stay tuned...

So shtick is the word of the day. You've probably heard it thousands of times. It’s from the Yiddish: Shtik, schtick, shtick, schtick. It means a “bit” or “bits of business” and usually pertains to a performance such as the one delivered to his Trumpian base every day by DeSantis.

Here are precise definitions:

Cambridge Dictionary: a particular ability or behaviour that someone has and that they are well known for (note the U.K. spelling)

Free Dictionary: An entertainment routine or gimmick.

Definitions.net: A contrived and often used bit of business that a performer uses to steal attention

All apply. I suppose you can catch the Governor’s shtick on his official web site. I just couldn’t bear to look.

Wyoming Tribune-Eagle reports on racist behavior in Cheyenne

It was a cringe-worthy headline above the fold in Saturday's Wyoming Tribune-Eagle: 

Air Force base leaders speak out against COMMUNITY RACISM

Yes, that last part was all caps and for good reason. Cheyenne's Warren AFB is home of the 90th Missile Wing and scores of nukes. Like most military bases, it’s self-contained to a certain extent but its airmen and airwomen and civilian employees interact with the community. 

Those interactions, lately, have been nasty. Missile Wing Commander Col. Catherine Barrington called for a meeting with community leaders after Black Air Force families reported racist incidents.

USAF dependents attend K-12 schools located around the county. Many are African-American because, well, it's the United States Air Force and not the Wyoming Air Force. As such, it is made up of young men and women from all over the U.S. and the world. Many have experienced multiple overseas deployments to far-flung bases and war zones. Some have been called racist epithets and discriminated against because of their color in Cheyenne, the place I call home.

The worst local offender reported in the article seems to be McCormick Junior High. This doesn’t surprise me as our daughter was terribly bullied when she attended McCormick. Its students tend to be white and from the mostly prosperous north side of the city where I still live. This doesn’t prevent them from being bullies and racists. 

[Col.] Barrington explained that multiple students have been bullied and called racial slurs at McCormick Junior High. A ninth-grade girl got off the bus the first day of the school year and was immediately called the N-word more than one time.

The girl opted to attend Cheyenne Virtual School rather than to be in this nest of vipers. Others were bullied and called racial slurs which led to fights where black students were suspended and fined. 

One wonders where these 13-year-olds might have learned such behavior. Look to the racist behavior of parents, those people you see at Trump rallies and ranting about Critical Race Theory and face masks at school board meetings. There are consequences for such loathsome behavior.

It's not only school children. One uniformed Black airman bought a gun at a local shop. When he returned in civvies to get the gun serviced, the proprietor said she didn’t have time to serve him.

“Other airmen have also experienced this,” said Warren's Command Chief Master Sergeant Nicholas Taylor. “And when they went in to buy ammunition, they would not sell ammunition to airmen of color at all. So they had to ask their Caucasian counterparts to go in and buy ammunition on behalf of them.”

Let’s be clear – in Cheyenne, we live at the intersection of Guns & Ammo. We have a couple dozen stores and pawn shops where you can buy shootin' irons. We have at least two outdoor firing ranges and one indoors. On Sundays, you can hear the Warren security detachment’s firearm drills. I would venture that everyone in my neighborhood owns at least one firearm. It’s not unusual to see gun stickers on front doors that read “This home protected by Smith & Wesson;” similar four-wheel-oriented stickers adorn pickups. Lest you think only conservatives own guns, you obviously don’t know any Wyoming Democrats. The Second Amendment is religion here, even among heathen Liberals.

So, when you hear that a Black airman cannot buy bullets in a Cheyenne shop when his latest deployment may have placed him armed with a fully-loaded taxpayer-funded weapon in a war zone, you have to say WTF or something similar.

James Peebles also spoke at the public meeting. He’s the director of the Sankofa African Heritage Awareness, Inc., in Cheyenne. His organization conducts seminars about systemic racism, the history of slavery, and the civil rights struggles. All things we desperately need to know about if racist behavior is to stop. Timely subjects during Black History Month.

Peebles described watching the social dynamic in Cheyenne change, with Black families leaving after experiencing racism. There also has been pandemic-driven anti-Asian rhetoric in the past five years.

After a recent ugly incident, Peebles added that “the last year was the first time he even questioned his safety here after living in Cheyenne for 12 years.”

Thanks to reporter Jasmine Hall for covering this meeting and a big thanks to the Wyoming Tribune-Eagle for featuring it so prominently. We need our newspapers to show us when our neighbors behave badly.

Nursing home signs should read: Welcome to the Titanic. There are no lifeboats

I don't always read the AARP Bulletin. It's a good publication with lots of helpful info for retirees like me. But, you know, there are books and the Internet and football and writing and "Queen's Gambit" on Netflix. 

This issue of the Bulletin carried a red banner crying SPECIAL EDITION and below that this header: "Covid-19 & Nursing Homes: An American Tragedy." It grabbed me because my stepmother died of Covid in a Florida long-term care facility. And I have been reading other articles on the subject since March and have been shocked with how many people my own age have died. I am 69 now but next week is my birthday and people in their 70s and 80s with underlying conditions are most vulnerable. I soon will be in that cohort.

This comes from the WyoFile weekly pandemic report, 12/11/20:

The Wyoming DOH has reported 321 Covid-19 deaths. That includes 128 in November, the most of any month so far. Many of these have been related to long-term care facilities. Wyoming now ranks third in the country for its rate of nursing-home-related deaths, the Casper Star-Tribune reports.

So there's that. And this subhead from the Bulletin:

In one of the most devastating health debacles in our nation's history, some 54,000 residents and workers in long-term care facilities died of causes related to the coronavirus within four months of the first known infection.

The article spans the 18 weeks from Feb. 29 and the first death in a Seattle nursing home to June 22. The best things are personal stories of patients, family members and health-care workers. Cami Nedleigh relates the story of her mother, Geneva Wood, a resident of the Life Care Center of Kirkland, Wash. Wood went into Life Care in late January to recover from a stroke. She was supposed to be released in early March but fell and broke her hip the last week of February. She stayed in Life Care. 

This from Wood: 

My roommate was coughing. Everybody was saying bronchitis. The I got a cough and could barely breathe. Thought it was pneumonia. I remember them saying I had a 102 fever. I guess I didn't know enough to be scared.

And Nedleigh: 

Mom got better, thankfully. She's a tough old Texas broad. But Mom's roommate didn't make it.

The article conjures scenes of chaos and bravery. In the first week of March, 27 of 108 residents and 25 of the 180 staff had the virus. And nobody really knew what it was and how to treat it. This led to many deaths.

Timothy Killian (Life Care spokesman): We all grew up with these movies about pandemics, in which the government vans swoop in and take control. As the situation escalated and the facility went into lockdown and people started dying. I kept expecting some type of coordinated response, but we saw nothing of that nature.

The facility, of course, gets some of the blame. Killian had obviously seen "Contagion" and "Outbreak." In the latter film, a monkey has the virus and ends up in a California small-town pet shop and starts spreading the virus. The commanding general of the national response team won't act because he knows the virus came from an Army bioweapons lab. Epidemiologists Dustin Hoffman and Renee Russo sneak into the site and start doing their good deeds while the evil general (the usually heroic Morgan Freeman) makes plans to seal off the town and bomb it to destroy the evidence. The most memorable scene takes place in the town's packed movie theater. A virus carrier coughs and we see spit flying around the room in slow motion, landing in people's mouths. Aw hell no, you might say. And you'd be right. 

It hits a bit close to home. Covid carriers were still going to movies in March and spreading the virus to seatmates. Asymptomatic carriers were going out to crowded bars and attending parties. The virus was in pandemic heaven, latching on to many new human hosts and spreading which is what viruses do.

You can read parts of the Bulletin story at the AARP web site. Kudos to David Hochman and contributors for the story. It appears just as the FDA approves the Pfizer vaccine and hope emerges. That doesn't help the many dead and dying in the U.S., almost 300,000 at last count, with a 16 percent fatality rate in long-term facilities. Compare this to the total U.S. fatality rate is 2.3 percent. 

This final quote is from Judith Regan, a publishing executive whose father, Leo Regan, is a resident of the Long Island State Veterans Home, site of 32 deaths:

The residents and staff are being led to slaughter. He is on the Titanic, but there are no lifeboats.

Op-ed: Wyoming native argues for survival of the University of Wyoming Creative Writing Program

I don’t subscribe to our local newspaper, the Wyoming Tribune Eagle. I am not boycotting it for political reasons or because I was the subject of an investigative report that portrayed me as a dirty dog. I just can’t access its content online unless I subscribe. Headlines I can read. Obituaries too. But not news, sports and op-ed which are my favorite sections.

I bought a copy today because it featured an op-ed by a former coworker at the Wyoming Arts Council. Linda Coatney wrote, “Finding my voice included endangered UW writing program.” She traced her evolution as a writer from a 10-year-old poet to a shy high school writer to creative writing workshops at Casper College to enrollment in UW’s master’s degree program in creative writing. And now that program is slated for demolition by the UW Board of Trustees. Why? Because our wingnut legislature failed to plan for a future where the state cannot depend on oil-gas-coal revenue due to the fact that fossil fuels’ day in the sun has set. If only we could have seen this coming.

Read Linda’s column for a stout-hearted defense of the program. Buy the Dec. 3 edition and turn to page A7. She may let me repost the column here once it plays out on the printed page. I am a print guy after a career as a newspaper reporter and editor and stints as a corporate editor, much of that time at the Arts Council. I write in a journal. I read books. I once was a paperboy and so was my son.

I also write for Wyoming’s online newspaper, WyoFile, and keep this blog which will celebrate its 20^th anniversary on Blogger in January. A few days ago I blogged about the UW situation. To read, go here.

The UW Creative Writing Program is tiny when compared to engineering and business and geology. That doesn’t make it any less important when it’s time to cut budgets. In fact, it may be more important to a state that is trying to leap into the 21^st century after spending so much time in the previous one. The creative economy was a major topic during my 25 years at the Arts Council. I like to think that I played a small part in making that a reality and not a dream. It takes time, of course, and Covid-19 showed us how vulnerable the collaborative arts can be. Pandemic precautions have shut down concert venues, theatres, arts conferences, art galleries, author readings and just about anything else that powers America’s arts and entertainment businesses. Artists and arts presenters have found clever ways to promote their work online and even in-person with creative masks and appropriate social-distancing.

Go read Linda’s op-ed and send your thoughts to UW. Or comment here and I will pass it along.

The week in pandemic news

I wish I could report to you that the pandemic is over. Alas--

Wyoming Dept. of Health, Nov. 14: Seventeen more Coronavirus-related deaths reported.

WyoFile weekly report:

Wyoming reached a critical point in its battle with COVID-19 this week as patient loads overwhelmed hospitals, healthcare workers and contact tracers, prompting the governor to announce plans to tighten health orders for the first time since spring.

Casper Star-Tribune, Nov. 15: Daily Wyoming coronavirus update: 613 new cases, 206 new recoveries (firewall)

Gillette News-Record, Nov. 13: County health officials ask Gordon for mask mandate

AP News, Nov. 13: Wyoming Governor: 'Knuckleheads' behind Covid-19 resurgence

Wyoming Daily News, Nov. 13: Wyoming Governor won't implement mask mandate

When faced with knuckleheads spreading a lethal virus: "We don't need no stinkin' masks."

Go to the Covid-10 Information page to find the Wyoming Testing Location Finder. Chris tested last week after she and some other staffers were sent home after a possible workplace exposure. She was negative. Took less than 72 hours to get results. She is now in quarantine for 14 days. We hope to see her again for Thanksgiving. 

How to stop "the greatest threat to American democracy since World War II"

Just 16 days to the most important election of my time. 

My voting timeline stretches back to 1972 -- 48 years. In 1972 in Boston, I cast my presidential vote for George McGovern. He didn't win. Nixon did, and you know what happened next.  

I've voted for other candidates who came up short in the Electoral College. I've also voted for people who ended up in the White House. Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, Barack Obama. Pretty good record. Carter deserved a second term but Reagan swarmed the airwaves with his smarmy lies and he prevailed. I also voted for Hilary Clinton in 2016, my first vote for a woman as president. She polled more votes -- almost 3 million. But GOP gerrymandering and voter suppression, coupled with Hilary's flawed campaign strategy, doomed us to four years of Donald Trump via the Electoral College. 

The New York Times editorial board today outlined all the reasons we need to get rid of Trump. Read it for yourself, if you can get past the paywall. I subscribe because I need a newspaper of record to prove that we lived through the past four years. I could pay for other newspapers that would be almost as good: Washington Post, Miami Herald, L.A. Times. I like The Denver Post for its Colorado and regional coverage. The sports section used to be excellent. Cheyenne boasts of having the Capital City paper in the Wyoming Tribune-Eagle. I read it occasionally. I used to subscribe. My son delivered it through the freezing early morning hours of Cheyenne's long winters. Its legislative coverage is good and it does interview candidates leading up to elections. It covers Cheyenne Frontier Days like a Pendleton blanket. But day-to-day, it doesn't have the heft of a NYT and other big-city dailies. 

The NYT covers Trump with as much objectivity as it can. Its liberal bias is a given, although it's not always liberal in outlook. If you read today's Trump piece, you get a complete rundown of Trump's failures (a long list) and excellent reasons to vote him out. It's not as entertaining as reading QAnon posts, listening to Rush Limbaugh, or watching Fox News. Entertaining yet sickening at the same time. 

The Times board op-ed header was "End Our National Crisis." Here's the lede:

Donald Trump's re-election campaign poses the greatest threat to American democracy since World War II.

The piece goes on to list his transgressions, which are legion, and supplies good talking points to counter your crazy uncle's crackpot theories should you be able to gather with family for Thanksgiving. By Turkey Day, the election will be over but maybe not decided. Trump will not guarantee a peaceful transition. Gerrymandering and voter suppression continue. Trump asked his bully boys to come to the polls and intimidate voters which translates in Trumpspeak to "voters of color." One could almost feel as if this was an election in a Third World dictatorship in which U.N. election referees need to be called in. Jimmy Carter's election crews can't cover every polling place but they could try. Our county clerk has called for more election judges because most judges are closer in age to Jimmy Carter than to Kamala Harris. Many have been frightened away by Covid and threats from Nazis.

I've been an election judge, back when I I was a youthful chap in my 50s and early 60s. It would be much better to have a slate of young folks at the polls to report suppression tactics. I was a poll watcher back in the day, too, looking over the shoulders of judges to make sure they followed the rules. The Wyoming Democratic Party has put out a call for poll watcher trainings held virtually Mondays and Thursdays at 7 p.m. Get more info at the WDP web site or on its Facebook page.

Get out and vote and encourage others to vote. Pray or cross your fingers or chant for a return to sanity with Democrats in charge of the White House, Senate and House. We are going to need all the help we can get with the courts clogged with Trump flunkies and the Supreme Court in the hands of right-wing extremists.

"Meet John Doe" -- a 79-year-old movie has something to say about 2020

I watched Frank Capra's "Meet John Doe" Friday night on Turner Classic Movies. I've seen it before but not in the Trump era. I see it now with new eyes. It's a story about decency. A hackneyed subject, boring even. But a lively tale in the hands of director Frank Capra.

If you don't know the 1941 movie, here's a synopsis. After the credits roll over scenes of Depression America, the film opens with a workman taking a jackhammer to a chiseled stone logo: "The Bulletin: A Free Press Means a Free People." It's replaced by a shiny new metal sign: "The New Bulletin: A Streamlined Paper for a Streamlined Era." 

Cut to the newsroom. An officious young clerk strolls in, points at each expendable employee, whistles, makes the universal cutthroat sign across his neck, and clucks his tongue. The somber looks on faces reveals the awful truth -- that they are now cast loose into The Great Depression with no real safety net. 

Mitchell is one of them. But she is not going to take this lying down. She marches into the editor's office and pleads for her job, saying she will take a pay cut from $30 to $20. Editor Henry Connell is a grizzled old school editor brought in to make the paper, now owned by millionaire businessman D.B. Norton, more exciting and more "streamlined." He has no patience and no job for Stanwyck and shoos her from the office, reminding her to write her final column before she leaves.

What comes next? It's a Capra-style exploration of celebrity, greed, patriotism and fascism. It was released in 1941, almost two years into the war and just a few months before Pearl Harbor. An unsettled time, maybe as angst-ridden as 2020. As the plot unfolds, I had Trump on my mind. Couldn't help it. And I kept contrasting Capra's worldview and the one that emerged after the 2016 presidential election.

In the movie, Mitchell's parting newspaper column is a fake letter from a John Doe who rails against society's ills and says he will make his point by jumping off the city hall building on Christmas Eve. An editor, who's also been fired, comes to Mitchell and says her column is two sticks short. She hands him to new column and he runs with it. When printed, the column causes an uproar. The competing newspaper calls it a fake. Mitchell is rehired at a higher salary and told to produce John Doe. She finds a washed-up pitcher named Long John Willoughby (Gary Cooper) who bums around the country with The Colonel (Walter Brennan). Mitchell persuades Willoughby to be Doe and the plot thickens.

Doe takes to the role. He eats regularly and has money. The Colonel warns him of "the heelots," those heels who just want your money. The Colonel is the voice of reason to Doe's aw-shucks naivite. He urges Doe to flee before it's too late. But Doe is stuck -- he likes the attention and having money ain't a bad thing either. Meanwhile, Norton gets his hooks into Mitchell as Doe warms to his role until a radio appearance pushes him over the edge and he flees with The Colonel. Doe is recognized at a diner and the crowds swarm to see him. He sees that he, as John Doe, has made an impact. He returns to the city and forms hundreds of John Doe Clubs, financed by Norton.

Norton is the stand-in for every fascist ascendant in the 1930s and 40s. He issues orders. He has his own paramilitary force (Norton's Troopers). He feels that the country is going to hell in a handbasket and needs a strong hand to restore order. His ultimate goal is to transform all those members of John Doe Clubs into compliant voters. But Doe, Mitchell and Connell rally to stymie Norton's plans. That's a spoiler but, if you know Capra films, that's how they end. Decent people win, the grifters lose.

Which brings us to the America in 2020. Decent people are everywhere. They heal the sick, feed the hungry, help their neighbors.

The indecent are always with us. Perhaps we just notice them more in our time of greatest need. Trump, of course, is Indecent American No. 1. Just the other day he was asked was about Rep. John Lewis's contributions to society. He replied that they weren't so great, that Lewis didn't show up for Trump's 2017 inauguration. He wasn't alone of course -- many thousands had something better to do on 1/20/17. Trump didn't even bother to attend Lewis's farewell at the Capitol Building Rotunda.

Everything is about Trump all of the time. He has his own band of Norton's Troopers. They were out in force the night that Trump decided to go to a church he had never attended to hold up a bible. Donald's Troopers tear-gassed and beat down peaceful protesters.Then Trump's Troopers traveled to Portland to do their dirty work. 

In the years leading up to Pearl Harbor, the U.S. had its own problem with fascists. The German-American Bund (America's Nazi Party) had thousands of members. Some 20,000 of them showed up for a rally at Madison Square Garden on Feb. 20, 1939. Bund members battled with protesters outside the Garden. Trump's pop probably said "there was good people on both sides." The Bund supported Hitler and his thugs, possibly history's most indecent group although there are a lot of contenders.

We need decency in film. Not the National Legion of Decency version. The Catholic org rated films and condemned some, telling Catholics that seeing one was a mortal sin and would send you straight to H-E-L-L. To teens in the 1960s, it was a handy guide for those films we just had to see. Censorship tends to backfire on the censor. We youngsters were also keen on reading banned books. I'm no youngster now but I always check the banned books lists to make sure I've read them. It's the decent thing to do.

You can watch "Meet John Doe" on YouTube. For a story about pre-war conflicts between Nazis and protesters in New York City, read Irwin Shaw's short story "Sailor off the Bremen." 

COVID-19 highlights lowlights are in the headlines

Some days, I get up and stare at the coronavirus news on my smartphone screen. I can access every news source on the planet and, even though most of them have paywalls, many allow me to read the headers and sometimes a bit of the story. Here are some lowlights from today:

New York Times:  With Virus Response, Governors Face Unending and Very Public Test

Denver Post: More Colorado families consider online education as COVID-19 risks look over upcoming school year

Reuters: Coronavirus cases hit 13 million, WHO sounds alarm

Miami Herald: This iconic Miami Beach hotel recently reopened. Coronavirus is making it close again

Wyoming Tribune Eagle: UW confirms a person working on campus contracted virus

And this: UW expects substantial enrollment decline

Toronto Star: Canadian snowbirds in flux as insurance firms deny them COVID coverage – but there is a solution

TrialSite News (Italy): University of Padua Vo Study: One Possible Hypothesis of How to Contain COVID-19

The Jakarta Post: Hong Kong Book Fair postponed amid spike in coronavirus cases

CNN: Trump turns on Fauci as disaster grows

Fox News: Local governments weigh tax hikes to plug coronavirus-induced shortfalls

The news is dismal on this Monday morning. It was dismal yesterday and the day before. The U.S., especially, is seeing spikes in the South and West. A sputtering economy tried to roar again but many leaders, even some Republican ones, on backtracking on their open strategies. The Atlanta mayor, a Democrat, has been diagnosed with the virus and is slowing its reopening which has made the Republican governor very mad. When I say mad I mean angry, although both apply in this case. Florida’s governor. A Trump ass-kisser, is moving ahead full speed on reopening. He plans to get school open next month, saying that if Wal-Mart can open so can schools. U.S. Education Secretary DeVos, a Trump flunky, tells communities to get kids back in school OR ELSE!

This could be a tragicomedy but it’s real. Very real. The Johns Hopkins University coronavirus tracking site lists more than 3 million U.S. cases and 135-plus thousand deaths. New cases are at 24,000 and climbing as it’s early yet.

Trump fiddles as the U.S. burns.

Chris and I are both high-risk and are staying home. I wear a mask when I do go out to the grocery store or fast-food drive-ups. Hunkering down is still SOP for us.

Good luck, wherever you are.

Hospital stories on Nurse Appreciation Day

On the one side, you have Trump and his narcissistic minions.

On the other, you have nurses.

I align myself with nurses. They are on the front lines of the fight against coronavirus. They run toward the danger and, thanks to the Trump administration's incompetence, lack the necessary PPE to keep COVID-19 at bay.

Today is Nurse Appreciation Day and it launches National Nurses Week which ends on Florence Nightingale's birthday on May 12. They should be celebrated everywhere and every time. Mostly nurses are taken for granted until we are gasping for breath with COVID-19 or, in my case, from a heart attack.

I lie in the hospital bed in the ER. I am hooked up to oxygen and poked and prodded by doctors and nurses and techs. Chris is with me so she holds my hand when she can. When she can't and the nurses are tending to me, I feel a strange sense of calm.

I see my mother's face in theirs. She was a nurse from 21 to her early death at 59. Tomorrow, May 7, is her birthday. Happy 95th birthday, Mom. She took care of strangers and she nursed her family. I was born in December of 1950 at Denver's Mercy Hospital. Mom trained there at the tail end of the war thanks to the U.S. Navy and the Sisters of Mercy. She worked there when I was born. Later she joked that she was working the night I was born and took off a few minutes to deliver me and then was back at her job. The truth is that Mom took a week off to chill in the hospital after each birth. It was important the first time out with me. It was even more crucial in the 1960s when she had 5-6 kids at home and needed a break as the new ones arrived.

She could have been the poster child for nurses' week. We came to her for our miseries. As a nursing supervisor at a Florida hospital, staff members came to her to unburden themselves. For awhile, I was both -- son and employee. A university dropout with a low draft lottery number, I figured that I would surf and work as I waited for the inevitable. I worked an as orderly or nursing assistant, now known as Certified Nurse Assistants (CNA). People actually go to school for this now and I'm glad of it. Me and my coworkers got OJT. The nurses were patient and, at times, stern. There were a couple nurses we didn't challenge. We didn't mess with Mom, either, although her management style was more encouragement than stern lectures.

I do admit here and now that sometimes, taking temps and inserting catheters, I was a bit stoned. When my coworkers Jim and Sharon picked me up at  6:45 a.m., a smoke cloud greeted me when I opened the car door. When we abandoned the car for work ten minutes later, the cloud followed us inside. It's a wonder we never were caught. We tried to cover up our shenanigans with after-shave and perfume. One day I heard a nurse proclaim that she always liked Jim to work at her station because he always smelled so good. A blend of Jamaican herb and Hai Karate. I can still smell it 49 years later.

My youthful indiscretions faded at my next job as orderly. I worked the graveyard shift at Shriners' Burns Institute in Boston. It was a serious place. All patients were children under 18 who had sustained bad burns. House fires, electrocutions, accidents, and, yes, child abuse. The staff of nurses and nursing assistants were all young and energetic even at 3 a.m. Some of the NAs were enrolled in nursing school. My girlfriend Sharon (the same Sharon) was making plans to return to school, this time for a nursing degree. I was thrilled when the nursing supervisor brought me into her office one day and offered me a nursing school scholarship paid for by the hospital. I was doing good work, she said. I thanked her and said I would think about it. It felt good to be noticed. I talked about it with Sharon and on long-distance calls with Mom from the corner pizza parlor (we didn't have a phone). But I already knew my answer. My practical side urged me to do it. But I was just beginning to explore my creative side.

I blame it on the Boston Phoenix and The Real Paper. Both were distributed weekly on Boston streets I always snagged both of them and read them from cover to cover before I settled into my daytime sleep. The writing, at turns, was spectacular and sloppy. The subjects tended to revolve around the counterculture which is where I placed myself. Music, books, politics, wacko cults and conspiracy theories. I also liked reading Boston's daily papers. They were in their heyday in 1972 and 1973. Dynamic political coverage and great sports sections. But they ignored most of the topics the Phoenix reveled in.

The alternative press ruined me. I wanted to be a writer. Nursing was a great calling and would provide a steady income. Maybe my girlfriend and I could attend the same nursing school and work at the same Boston hospital..

But I wanted something else. I quit my job, returned to Florida, and went back to school as an English major. Write and teach, teach and write. That was what I wanted to do and that is mainly what I did.

Mom is just one generation of nurses in the family. My grandmother, Florence Green Shay, was an army nurse in World War I and two of my sisters are nurses. Another sister works at a Florida hospice center. I am so glad that nurses are getting their due during this plague. Let's keep them safe and pay them what they deserve. .

A dry spell comes into the life of every blogger

It's been more than a month since I posted here. I guess I could say that I'm in the midst of a dry spell. That wouldn't be accurate. I've written some blog posts on healthcare and politics that bored me so much I couldn't finish. So, I turned my attention elsewhere. wrote five feature articles for Artscapes Magazine. I started a piece for Studio Wyoming Review on Wyofile. I revamped the last section of my historical novel and almost finished it. I discovered halfway through the last section that the narrative didn't make sense in its present form. Maybe I should have waited until I actually finished because finishing is the goal. But no -- I had to be different. I do have most of a final chapter, my third attempt. I have read about other authors who begin the book and write the final chapter so they know where they're going. Those are the same writers who outline the book before they write. They're called plotters.

Writers like me are called pantsers because we write "by the seat of their pants," making up the story as we go along. I believe I'm in that group due to my early training in daily and weekly newspapers. Sports reporting, especially, makes writers write down what they know because there is 20 minutes to deadline. It's a handy way to learn writing as you always have the score to fall back on. "Cheyenne Central shellacked Cheyenne South Friday night 52-0 to cinch its record at 10-1 and win a trip to the high school boys' football regional playoffs." All the 5Ws are in there. I used fun action verbs -- shellacked and cinch -- that aren't usually seen elsewhere in daily news writing except in election season. That lede gives you a gateway into the rest of the story that you will keep writing until time is up. Often the ending can trail off into noweheresville as you throw in stats or add a lame quote from the winning coach or quarterback. You're finished. On to the next game!

Ledes aren't always easy to come by in feature writing. You're lucky if some attention-grabbing quote or fact can be fished out of your notes. You really have to dig sometimes, depending on the pizazz of the interviewee. In fiction, I usually start with an image. In my novel, I wanted to put my two main characters on a train together. Nothing too exciting about a passenger rail car in 1919 Colorado, although there are train fans out there who might disagree. My characters, however, are so different that they clash in interesting ways that might (you never know) lead to romance somewhere in the middle of the book. It works for me. No telling if it will grab the interest of editors.

I began writing this because writing is something I am invested in. Not so politics and healthcare. I love to read and talk about those topics. Debate them, too, as long as its a two-sided contest. But tackling these topics rally requires some research. The Internet is key to that. I know which sources to turn to for facts and which to turn to for snark. I like both, so sometimes I turn to opinion pieces in newspapers such as the New York Times, Washington Post, and the Miami Herald. Carl Hiaasen of the Herald is the best columnist in the USA. I also look to conservatives mouthpieces such as the Wall Street Journal, Forbes, and others. For liberal snark, you can't beat Wonkette. I often wonder where Hunter S. Thompson would have plied his trade on the WWW. The Trump Era was made for him.

In conclusion, let me state that I needed to write and post something that interests me so I can move on to the next things. Finishing the novel. Watching the NFL conference finals. Eating lunch.

See you in the funny papers.

Part IX: The Way We Worked: Things To Do In Denver When You're Alive

Where do you look for work when you're new to Denver?

Ski shop? Sure. Colorado was crazy for skiing in 1978 and it was affordable too. Every Friday, Denverites piled into their big American cars and raced up the hill to big American ski areas such Vail and Breckenridge and Aspen. These skiers needed gear and there were plenty of places to get it. People flocked to the Gart Brothers Sportscastle on South Broadway. You could get anything sports-oriented there. Buy a new tennis racket and try it out on the rooftop tennis court. Test drive golf clubs at the driving range or skis on the ski machine. Gart Brothers always was hiring but preferred sales people with a sports background.

So, instead of working at a castle, Chris worked a few blocks down Broadway at a storefront selling ski equipment from a failed business. Neal, one of my father's Regis College buddies, owned the store. He put her to work, even though she had no ski experience, had lived most of her life in semi-tropical army bases in exotic locales such as Atlanta and Ethiopia. Colorado's Rocky Mountains were new territory as was sizing ski boots for bargain hunters with stinky feet. 

Colorado, then as now, was a place where young people came to mingle with other young people in the great outdoors. Denver, especially, was and is a sports town. My cousins were crazy for the Broncos, a formerly hapless NFL team that had played in its first Super Bowl in January '78. When they weren't cycling or kayaking or hiking or jogging or skiing, Denverites watched the Broncos. 

No surprise, then, that Chris and I both found ourselves in the sports biz. I covered high school sports for The Denver Post. I was part of the crew of correspondents that traveled the state, reporting on the exploits of the Brush Beetdiggers, Fort Collins Lambkins, East High Angels, and Monte Vista Demons (Colorado high schools go way beyond "Bulldogs" when it comes to mascots). Our charge was to chronicle each game, get the score right, and spell correctly the names of the standout athletes. This last one was important. Upset parents usually went right to the sports editor with complaints. He didn't like complaints. Check spellings, he'd say. And spare me the deathless prose -- save that for your novel. The joke was the every reporter had a novel a-brewing in his bottom drawer, right next to the pint of rotgut whiskey.

One night at a staff party at the downtown Holiday Inn, Denver Nuggets General Manager Bob King chatted with Chris and found out that she was looking for a new job. The conversation probably went something like this:

Chris: I work at a ski shop. I don't know anything about skiing.
Bob: What do you know about basketball?
Chris: Nothing
Bob: How would you like to work for the Nuggets?
Chris: When do I start?

Chris worked in the Nuggets front office for two years. She had the use of a pair of season tickets. I couldn't make much use of them because I worked most of the nights that the Nuggets played. My cousins were free on weekends so they went to the games while I watched 5-foot-4 girls play roundball in Evergreen and Colorado Springs. I sometimes filed my stories on ancient fax machines. When those didn't work, I called and dictated my stories from remote locations to meet the 11 p.m. deadline. On other nights, I covered hockey or wrestling or anything else that might sell newspaper subscriptions. I covered racketball, tennis, cycling, baseball, and motocross during my three years at the Post.

Meanwhile, Chris assisted the Nuggets through a winning with future Hall-of-Famers Dan Issel, Charlie Scott and David Thompson. It was a pleasure to watch Issel mix it up with Kareem Abdul Jabbar. Kareem was the superior athlete. But Issel made up for it in sheer grit. Nobody could fly like "Skywalker" Thompson. In a search for other highs, he almost sabotaged a brilliant career with his yen for cocaine.

In 1981, I landed a job as managing editor of a lifestyle weekly called Up the Creek. Chris grew tired of the sports world and switched to banking. Two of my sisters moved to Denver and worked as nurses. The cold got to them and they returned to Florida. Chris and I both entertained thoughts of moving back to Florida. Friends and family lived so far away. Chris's mother was diagnosed with cancer in 1980 and she made many trips back to Daytona. We were young and didn't mind taking cheap red-eye flights out of Denver's Stapleton for weddings and reunions and eventually funerals.

In retirement, we ask ourselves many questions. Looking back, what would I have done differently? There were scores of alternative lives I could have lived. One of a fiction writer's jobs is writing about alternative worlds, lives different from mine.

I still write fiction. Making stuff up satisfies a need in me. While I worked through various jobs, I kept writing. I have journals going back to 1972. I've published one book of short fiction, published a number of stories and essays in magazines and anthologies. I have posted weekly on my blog since 2005. I have written thousands of words, maybe millions. I am sure that I spent the 10,000 hours that Malcolm Gladwell in Outliers said I needed to be an expert in my field. Expertise did not lead to Stephen King-style publishing success. Still, I write. 

I had a number of jobs in the second half of my working life. Two of them managed to consume 30 years in the blink of an eye. I will write about them in upcoming posts. 

The gulf between the empty states and the crowded states gets wider all the time

The Oct. 9 New York Times featured an op-ed give-and-take between liberal columnist Gail Collins and conservative Bret Stephens. It was prompted by the recent dust-up between Dems and Repubs over the future of the Supreme Court. The column had one section that bears repeating because it concerns Cheyenne and Wyoming. The majority of  Wyomingites do not read the NYT because the majority of Wyomingites are Trump supporters and Trump consistently bashes the paper as "the failing New York Times" and "fake news." Instead, these readers get their reportage from the always reliable Fox and the always unbiased Breitbart site. As a public service. I repeat the exchange below. To red the entire column, go to https://www.nytimes.com/2018/10/09/opinion/trump-kavanaugh-blasey-ford.html

Gail: That leads me to one of my constant preoccupations: the way this country is organized to disenfranchise urban voters and empower people from rural areas. The 59 million people in California and New York are going to elect Democratic senators. But they’ll be completely canceled out if the less than two million people in Wyoming and Montana decide to go Republican. 

Bret: There you go again, Gail, making the case for democracy. I’m still a republican (even if no longer a Republican), so I’m for sticking with the original design. How about all those blue state voters moving to Kansas or Wyoming instead?

Gail: Instead of “Let them eat cake,” it’d be “Let them move to Cheyenne?” There’s a gulf between the empty states and the crowded states that goes beyond geography.

As a 25-year resident of Cheyenne, Wyoming, this exchange tickled me. My town was mentioned in the NYT, which happens rarely. The conservative writer (with tongue in cheek, methinks) says that blue state voters should move to red states such as mine, thus watering down the yayhoo vote and saving the republic. The liberal pins down the issue when she says that "a gulf between the empty states and the crowded states that goes beyond geography?" Indeed. That span is wider than the Gulf of Mexico, wider than any gulf I can think of.

As a liberal blogger in a red state, I agree with Bret -- let those blue voters leave the comfy environs of Brooklyn and Berkeley and move to Cheyenne. Our small coterie of Democrats welcomes them. Our city of 65,000 needs to grow. Our county, one of 23, used to have the best representation of Dems in the state legislature. No more. 2016 took care of that. Republicans all voted R and Democrats stayed home. Gerrymandered districts helped, of course, the most recent ridiculous changes occurring in 2010 and more to come in 2020 as our legislature is even more right-wing crazy than it was in 2010. And don't forget about the Russians.

That's one of the main problems. As rural lawmakers propose more wackadoodle legislation, the more bad publicity we get and the less likely it becomes that free-thinking liberals want to move here. Expect more bills that restrict voting, LGBTQ equality, protest, birth control, abortion, etc. They will come up with laws that more severely punish marijuana users. Since there are only a few women in the legislature, expect more anti-women votes. But lest you think they are only against everything, the Republican majority will come up with bills promoting oil, coal and gas and the right to bear arms in almost anyplace you damn please.

The irony here, is that Republicans bemoan the fact that their grown children take their educations and put them to use in Denver, Palo Alto and Atlanta. That's where the good jobs are. That's where other young people live and play. Those cities, as Gail infers, is the geography in which young people choose to live. They may want to be close to family, but with the money they make, they can travel to Cheyenne for our Frontier Days extravaganza every July. They can take part in a family reunion, share their success stories, and play cowboy for ten days. Then they go back to their crowded, exciting, liberal cities. From there, they can monitor the boneheaded moves of our legislature and be glad that they escaped such a benighted place. It seems that legislators don't understand how quickly their dumb quotes zoom around the world. We have the Internet now and a 24-hour news cycle. Dumbassery knows no boundaries.

Why do I live in Cheyenne? I came for a job in the arts and stayed. My wife loves her job. Our friends are wonderful people. Surprisingly enough, there is much to do and more events all of the time. And if it's not happening here, it is in Fort Collins or Greeley and Denver, the purplish-blue state that begins 11 miles from my front door. They have right-wing kooks in Colorado too, but there are enough liberals, some home-grown and some imported, to negate their bad influences. Colorado, too, has the disconnect between urban and rural. Five rural northern Colorado counties threatened a secede a few years ago when the legislature voted to restrict gun rights and oil drilling. Rural residents blame Denver for all of the bad stuff. Denver blames their country cousins for all of the bad stuff. I keep close tabs on all of this because I am a second-generation Denverite and my son is third-generation. My daughter was born in Cheyenne but recently made her way to L.A. and Chicago and Salt Lake City and Denver before gravitating back here.

Blue staters are not going to pick up and move to Cheyenne or Casper just to bring some balance to the equation. Red staters will remain in their small towns, come hell or high water (or hurricanes). The gulf between us gets bigger and we all suffer for it.

Where will it end?