FREE MONEY IS NOT FREE

Back in the Hippie Days of the late sixties and early seventies, there was a saying: Free Love is not Free. This was in response to a society that had embraced the concept of free love. Living together without marriage, which had once been scandalous, was now accepted as the norm. But the older generation wagged their finger and warned against so much sexual freedom. They had a point, because unmarried women still kept getting pregnant, and there was an explosion of STDs. Today, we have a new type of freedom to worry about. A government that’s borrowing wildly to print money, writing stimulus checks every few months, and rewarding those who choose not to work with generous unemployment benefits. But it seems we’re about to learn our lesson: Free Money Is Not Free.

Have you been to the grocery store lately? Supposedly, prices have increased a mere 5%. I don’t know who’s pumping out those figures, but here’s an example: A month ago, I could buy a low calorie frozen dinner for $2.29 cents. Today, that same product was on the shelves with a price tag of $3.59. At the home improvement store, floor covering I bought last year has increased from 54 cents a square foot to 89 cents. To me, these and numerous other price increases are closer to 40%.. All this free money has pumped up demand, creating a scarcity for goods and services..

Free Money is not Free. The feds don't know what will happen with inflation — Free Money is not free. The feds are blowing smoke when they say high inflation will not last.

I don’t know where the fed is coming from. First, Secretary of the Treasury, Janet Yellen. says inflation is “good” for the country. Then, she’s comforts us by predicting that it’s only temporary and prices will soon go back down. I say this lady is blowing smoke , along with Federal Reserve chairman Jerome Powell. They are basing their predictions on events that occurred in previous administrations. None of them have ever been though a pandemic like COVID-19, and they have no more idea of what is going to happen to prices than you and me. .

As a matter of fact, I think the average, middle class consumer has a better handle on the future of our economy that they do, because we’re driving to appointments, going to grocery stores, and buying home improvement items on a day to day basis. We, the ordinary tax payers are paying more for everything because all this free money has created such a high demand. Eventually, taxes will go up to pay for the free money , and so will interest rates. Ordinary people will find they are struggling to pay their bills every month. Many businesses will fail and unemployment will increase.

According to Fortune Magazine, “The economic lockdown, and the gigantic new spending enacted to combat it, brings the day of reckoning far closer. By borrowing multiple trillions at a pace never before seen, the U.S. is endangering the sterling credit that makes Treasuries and the dollar the safest of havens for global investors. It is likely that within the next decade, the U.S. will need to impose monumental tax increases. What America’s leaders aren’t saying is that it’s the middle-class Americans working today, the autoworkers, nurses, and deli owners, and not just their future generations, who’’ll foot most of the bill.”

Free Money Isn’t Free.

June 16, 2021June 16, 2021

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO CHARISMA?

Decades ago, charisma was a popular word. The first time I ever saw a charismatic politician was when I lived in Chicago. President Dwight Eisenhower came to town in 1960, and over one million people stood in the streets to cheer him on. I happened to be in the front row when he drove by, sitting atop a convertible seat. Just for a moment, our eyes met. A shiver ran through my entire body. He was old and white haired. But with his brilliant blue eyes, robust coloring and warm smile, the man radiated charisma.

What is charisma? The dictionary describes it as a compelling attractiveness or charm that can inspire devotion in others.

A lot of presidents haven’t had it. Nixon, Carter, Johnson and Bush were good speakers, but they didn’t have that spark. John Kennedy had it. He was young, handsome, and inspiring when he said: “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.”

Ronald Reagan had it. When his enemies attacked him, he didn’t get mad. Just smiled and said, “there you go again.” I don’t remember him ever calling his opponents bad names. He was just the gipper. Smiling, confident, unflappable.

Barack Obama had it. All you had to do was read his book, “Dreams From My Father” to know he was sensitive, empathetic, inspiring, and yes, charismatic.

In 2008, they started holding workshops that could teach people how to be charismatic. But the truth is, charisma is hard to teach. I think it’s something a person is born with.

Fast forward to the present day. A lot of people compared Trump to Reagan. But Trump doesn’t have charisma. Trump is an entertainer. He’s funny and dynamic, but when he starts the name calling, it’s over. Charismatic people don’t run people down; they lift you up on eagle’s wings. Our current president Biden is affable and pleasant, but he doesn’t make your heart swell when he delivers a speech.

Our country is in desperate need of a presidential candidate who has charisma. There has to be someone out there who can charm and inspire us to loftier goals.

Whatever happened to charisma?

June 11, 2021June 11, 2021

YOU NEED A FRIEND IN YOUR PLUMBER

Of all the tradespeople you employ to help maintain your home, the plumber may be the most important. Plumbing emergencies are the most critical of any that occur . Yes, you need your lawn mowed, but it can wait a day or two if it rains. If your heat or air conditioning goes down, you can usually stay cool or warm for awhile until the repairman can get there. But a broken pipe or sewage back up can’t wait. That’s when you need a friend in your plumber. You want someone who will get there within the hour.

When I was a child growing up in the post depression years, men in our neighborhood didn’t call plumbers. They were expected to know how to fix a leaky faucet or pipe.. I’m sure I never saw a plumber in our house. But I do remember my poor father struggling with hardware and manuals in all day attempts to fix whatever plumbing emergency had occurred. Sometimes, he called on a neighbor or friend for advice, which was freely given. Men helped each other, and some knew more than others. .

Our country cousins didn’t worry at all about plumbing. They used an outhouse and a chamber pot for their toilet needs. There was a pump for water outside and one in the kitchen. Bathing didn’t include showers or bathtubs. One simply heated gallons of water for the weekly Saturday night bath in a metal tub. And when weather permitted, there was always the creek for bathing.

Now, in our 21st century homes, we have all sorts of plumbing emergencies. Flooding due to a failed sump pump, burst pipe, sewer back up, or water shut off valve failure, can cause significant damage and is a safety concern. Consequently, it’s important to cultivate a good relationship with a reliable plumber. If you’re juggling bills at the end of the month, pay him first. When he’s in your home, call him by name and treat him with respect. . If you’re a good customer, he’ll be there for you in a crisis. You really need a friend in your plumber.

June 7, 2021June 7, 2021

A BABY IS STARING AT YOU

Last week, I came face to face with a baby who was born during the pandemic. Couldn’t have been more than 7 or 8 months. Sitting in a grocery cart, wearing nothing but a diaper. Was he/she scared or timid? Neither one. The baby was staring at me with wide open eyes. I stopped and smiled, afraid that would trigger some tears. But the child didn’t bat an eye or move a muscle. Just kept staring. I had never seen a baby look at me so intently before, and I’ve been around many grandkids. Then, it occurred to me. I was maskless, for the first time in 15 months. The baby wasn’t used to seeing naked faces at the grocery store. And since most of the other customers were wearing masks, he was fascinated. Now that masks are no longer mandatory in public, you may find that a baby is staring at you.

Baby is staring at you. He hasn't seen anyone without a mask since he was born. — Baby is staring at you because he hasn’t seen anyone without a mask out in public until now.

Most public places now have signs saying, “you need not wear a mask if you’ve been vaccinated.” About half the grownups in this town have received the vaccine, but a lot of them are still wearing masks. Which means that little kids won’t find them very interesting. I, for one, was happy to discard the mask the minute our governor said it was okay.

A couple of days later, I went to a meeting with a group that hadn’t met since March of 2020. Outside the private club, a little girl stood at the back door. Probably a child of one of the employees. She looked about eight or nine. . Once again, I was surprised at her friendliness. Kids that age don’t usually notices seniors. But when I got out of my car and smiled at her, she wanted to talk. She said she was with her aunt, who was working inside. That may seem strange, unless you’ve been to a country where it’s common for people to bring children to work. But the point is, she seemed hungry for some type of social interaction. Especially with a person whose face was visible.

You have to wonder how it’s been for kids during this pandemic. So isolated that the only faces they see are at home with family. But if they can see you smile, they may smile back. And there’s nothing so heartwarming as that. Be happy if a baby is staring at you.

June 4, 2021June 5, 2021

SCOTUS OK’D VIOLENT VIDEO GAMES

Politicians are always arguing about the pros and cons of gun control. Every time there’s a mass shooting, the pressure ramps up to increase legislation. I have to agree. Why in the world would any normal human being need an assault weapon in order to get through life? On the other hand, people have always had guns in this country. It’s how the West was won, as the saying goes. But we didn’t always have video games. In the year 2011, the United States Supreme Court ruled that any regulation of the content of video games violated freedom of speech. Consequently, in the past ten years, mass shootings have tripled in this country. It’s obvious: Scotus OK’d violent video games –and it was a bad decision.

This week, a 14 year old girl broke into a Florida home, and used the owners assault weapon to open fire on sheriff’s deputies. Her 12 year old accomplice later told investigators that the 14-year-old had said, “I’m gonna roll this down like GTA,” referring to the video game Grand Theft Auto.

An international study published in 2018 looked at more than 17,000 adolescents, ages nine to 14, over a period of 4 years.. They found that playing violent video games led to increased physical aggression over time. . High levels of violent video game exposure are linked to delinquency, fighting at school and during free play periods, and violent criminal behavior.

Scotus ok'd violent video games and it was a mistake — Scotus ok’d violent video games in 2011. Since then, mass shootings have tripled.

In 2017, the American Psychological Task Force on Violent Media found that violent video game exposure increases aggressive thought and behaviors. Such games can also desensitize people to violence. The longer that children watch these games. the more likely they are to have aggressive behaviors, thoughts, and feelings. In addition, they show less empathy and understanding of others.

The ruling made by the United States Supreme Court in regard to the regulation of Video Games was made in 2011. That was then, and this is now. It’s time for them to go back and look at the evidence. Their decision has resulted in a tripling of mass shootings in the United States. The court shouldn’t have ok’d unregulated, violent video games.

June 2, 2021June 2, 2021

WHO WILL VISIT YOUR GRAVE?

Graveyards have always fascinated me. Most of them will take you centuries back into history. My grandfather supervised the cemetery near his farm for many years, so it was a place I visited many times as a child. We even had picnics there. Positioned at the bottom of a hill, overlooked by towering trees, it was serene and fragrant with the smell of country grasses. Many of my ancestors were buried there, including a great great Uncle Ren White, who’d served in the Civil War. I still make the annual Memorial Day pilgrimage to put flowers on my family gravestones, but find it sad that so many graves appear to be forgotten. Who will visit your grave? Or will you even have one?

Most people who pass away in this century will not have a traditional burial. It’s estimated that by the year 2040, 80% of us will choose cremation. Most will not have a gravestone to visit, although some will chose to have their ashes buried in a cemetery next to their spouse or family members who preceded them in death.

But even if you do have a gravestone, it’s no guarantee anyone will come to visit it on Memorial Day. Many people are actually afraid of cemeteries, and will avoid them at all costs. That’s because cemeteries remind them of their own mortality.

Who will visit your grave? 80% of people are cremated now. — Who Wil Visit Your Grave? Cemeteries are a place of peace for some, and fear of mortality for others.

And yet, for me, as the only remaining member of my immediate family, a flood of memories stream into my consciousness at the gravesites: My oldest sister braiding my hair and reading Grimm’s fairy tales to me. Middle sister, blonde and giggly, yet kind enough to let me into her bed on the nights when I was scared. Her twin brother’s ashes are up in Michigan, but I remember him buying me shoes with his paper route money. My mother’s wonderful cooking, and Daddy taking us to the fireworks and the beach all summer long.

I feel the tears coming on, and try to distract myself. They no longer allow flower planting at the cemetery, but they let my Grandpa’s 100 year old peonies continue to bloom every year. To this day, I’m a sucker for peonies.

So yes, I’m one of those people who love to visit the cemetery. And I’m not alone. There’s always someone visiting a grave when we enter the driveway. And many graves have fresh decorations on Memorial Day. Driving away , out onto the crowded highway, I feel refreshed and restored. Just for a while, I’ve had my family back again—if only in my heart.

May 31, 2021June 1, 2021

IN HONOR OF THE MISSING PILOT

On Memorial Day, we still see a few WWII veterans at ceremonies commemorating those who served. My husband and I were were both children of that era, and our lives were forever changed. We remember rationing, air raid drills, and uncles who went to war, some of whom did not return. Several years ago, my husband published his memoir, A Preacher Called Sinn, and devoted several chapters to that historic period. One of his most vivid memories centers around the Bruning Air Force base that sprang up near his family farm in Nebraska. As a result, It changed the local economy, and brought the war close to home. Especially on the day when he found a young man who had parachuted to his death. In honor of the missing pilot who lost his life , I’m sharing chapter 6 from my husband’s memoir:

THE MISSING PILOT

Less than a week after the Bruning Air Base was finished, the Army Air Corps moved in and began their maneuvers. Our chimney was a turning point for B-19 liberators on their sorties. The roar of airplane engines hammered the once quiet skies, swooping down to frighten the chickens and spook the cattle. When Grandpa and I went into town so he could play cards, the men talked incessantly about the war effort. I didn’t want to say it out loud, but it seemed to me that the evils of Mussolini and Hitler had actually made things better for the folks in Thayer County. The stores around the courthouse square, once struggling for survival, were crowded with customers. New shops and restaurants opened up, and they added an extra shift at the bakery.

One warm afternoon in September, I looked up North across the pasture and saw my cousins on two small ponies galloping toward our house. Having finished my chores, I ran out to greet Herb and Irvin. They were short robust boys whose pink cheeks glowed with innocence and good health

. “What shall we do today?” I asked, hoping each of them would offer me a turn to ride, as they usually did

. “We’re collecting milkweed pods,” Irvin announced. “You want to help?” The boys jumped to the ground, tied up the ponies, and produced a burlap onion bag. I looked at the dirty bag, feeling a rush of disappointment.

“What do we care about some old weeds?”

Irvin shot me a look. “Not weeds. Pods. It’s for the war. They use the silk inside the pods to make flotation devices. We might save a pilot’s life if we do this.”

Reluctantly, I trailed after them. The wind across the prairie scratched our eyes, and the prickly pods stung my fingers. I collected more pods than the two of them together. As we searched the brush and weeds alongside the road, I remembered the time when all we could hear on a Sunday afternoon was the mooing of cows and the honking of geese. Now, aircraft droned overhead, and the roads were clogged with convoy trucks.

An approaching jeep rumbled along the road in a cloud of dust and jerked to a stop. “What you boys up to?” asked one of the men.

“Collecting pods,” I replied.

The soldier in the driver’s seat tapped me on the shoulder. “We need your help. It’s urgent.”

I felt a stir of inner excitement. ‘Sure, what do you want us to do?”

“We’re looking for some wounded men.”

“They’re missing?” My pulse quickened. Had the war come right here to Thayer County? There had been worry we might be invaded when the government built the air base.

The soldier nodded. “Yes, one of our B-19’s lost an engine and the men bailed out. They could be hurt. You three boys spread out and see if you can find them, and have your folks call the base if you do.”

I took charge. “You go thataway,” I told Irvin, pointing to the tree row at the edge of their farm. “And you, Herb, go down toward the river. I’ll head for the pasture behind Grandpa’s house.”

Search planes thundered overhead, casting huge terrifying shadows across the land. At first, I ran so fast my lungs were on fire. But soon, I slowed down to catch my breath as I approached a field where stalks of wheat stood brown and ripe in the blazing sun. I imaged myself actively engaged in a military operation, feeling important and yet afraid of what I might find.

I saw it then: a flash of white blowing in the wind, the parachute billowing out like a tablecloth. My heart sped up as I saw the familiar drab green fatigues on the twisted body of a man lying on his side next to the fencepost.

My hands trembled. The guy must be in terrible pain. I had witnessed gory farm accidents and seen cows in agony during childbirth, and hated that gut wrenching feeling of helplessness in the face of suffering.

My knees went weak as I sank to the ground. The airman’s cap had come undone; his coppery hair gleamed like a new penny against the crusted earth. Upon the ghostly pallor of his face, his lips were dark as blueberries. His half opened eyes looked toward heaven. When I gasped his long thin fingers, they felt clammy as a Blue River Catfish.

They told us later he had broken his neck when he hit the fencepost.

That evening, there was leftover fried chicken for Sunday supper, but no one was hungry. I picked at my food as we sat around the big oak kitchen table. I wondered if the pilot had brothers and sisters, and thought of how terrible his parents would feel when they heard about their son’s fatal accident. I knew that someday I might have to go in the service, and hoped I would have the courage to face death in a place far from home

As if reading my thoughts, Mom touched my hand. “Don’t you worry, Son,” she said. “We’re going to win this war real soon, and after that, we’ll all live in peace. There won’t be any more wars in your lifetime.”

A PREACHER CALLED SINN is available on AMAZON @ http://bit.ly/1HOFqpG