Category Archives: A Pocket of Resistance

An Evening: Reflection

It  was mostly a day of old man preventive maintenance.

Tuesdays are trash days, and is my habit, i arose early, did my routine to-dos, and took out the trash. i went from my dermatology check (all’s fine for a change), had a crown put back in, and…oh yeh, i took a nap. i did a little organizing and some preps for my trip back home. Maureen cooked some superb tilapia and a new cole slaw. i sat down and watched about ten minutes of Kentucky drubbing Vanderbilt in my favorite gymnasium of all time, switched to “Who Shot Liberty Valence,” but since i already knew the answer as i have watched this movie about two dozen times, after a while i turned that off as well.

Maureen was reading, sitting on the love seat with her legs up and Dakota in her lap. She occasionally watched the ball game (i’ve succeeded into turning her into a baseball fan beyond my wildest dreams, but she is only half interested in Vanderbilt basketball: i think  that will change if i ever get her to a regular season game in Memorial Gymnasium), and as a movie aficionado sans westerns, she wasn’t thrilled with Liberty or his shooter.

Before our supper, which is nearly all ways on dinner trays in the family room, i started a fire. It was borderline too warm, but i professed feeling a bit chilled as an excuse. i also know fire in the hearth days are numbered and i can never have enough. i have reported earlier how i was once known in early October in the Southwest corner to open up windows and turn on a floor fan or two in order for it to be cool enough to start a fire.

Maureen put up the cooking stuff and i washed the dishes. i added a couple of eucalyptus logs (they burn as well as oak and the smell is delightful) and stoked the fire. i sat back in my chair (i still don’t and never will have my recliner; designer wife thinks they are ugly and don’t fit with the decor; i don’t care and like recliners, have resigned myself to my fate, and laugh when i can make fun of her for not having one) and turned on Handel’s “Water Music” and a book.

When i play “Water Music,” which is often, i always think of two things as it begins. i picture myself on a plush barge with Henry VIII punting down the Thames with another barge attached alongside with the orchestra performing the piece. And i think of my daughter Blythe’s wedding. She chose excerpts from Handel’s work for her music and instead of the traditional “Here Comes the Bride” for her walk to the altar, the horn section of “Water Music” was played — okay, i don’t remember the section so now i will have to look it up again, but that’s okay as it means i have to listen to the whole thing again today — and her Daddy still beams thinking of Blythe, Jason, and her music.

i am well into the book. It’s “The Slavish Shore” by Jeffrey L. Amestoy. The biography was recommended to me by Dennis Smith, a good friend and retired history teacher. Dennis and i were talking at a party toward the end of last year when we discovered we were both big fans of Richard Henry Dana, Jr. and his book “Two Years Before the Mast.” Alan Hicks and i hardly ever get together without discussing some aspect of Dana’s 1834-36 sailing adventure from Boston to the west coast and back. Dennis recommended Amestoy’s story of Dana. i bought one for myself, my brother-in-law, and of course, Alan and his family.

It is a good book. Dennis was correct.

And it was about as pleasant an evening as i can recall. Quiet. Fire in the fireplace. Handel’s “Water Music” wafting in the air. Maureen and the cat. Reading. Thinking about all the good things in this world, and how lucky i am to be where i am and who i’m with, and somehow Crosby, Stills, and Nash’s “Our House” flashes into my mind:

I’ll light the fire
You put the flowers in the vase that you bought today

Staring at the fire for hours and hours while I listen to you
Play your love songs all night long for me, only for me…
Such a cozy room…
Our house is a very, very, very fine house with two cats in the yard
Life used to be so hard
Now everything is easy ’cause of you…

I’ll light the fire while you place the flowers in the vase that you bought today.

And you know what? Old ain’t so bad.

One Fantastic Woman

i have always loved women. Put them on a pedestal. Been really close to many. And i must say in spite of difficulties with a few who have no use for me, i still care for all of them.

There are special ones of course.

But there is one in addition to Maureen, my wife, who is extra, extra special to me. We met in 1963. She was a freshman at Vanderbilt. i was a sophomore. Our relationship has been very serious at times, and very platonic at others. Through it all, even during long periods when we lost contact, we have always been friends. Even when we had relationships with others, we remained close.

Susan Butterfield Brooks is happily married to a wonderful man, Mike Brooks. They are both long time Atlanta denizens. They fit well together.

She and Maureen are good friends.

Susan and i, at least from my side, are about as special friends as two people could get. i treasure her thoughts, her inputs for me, her fun, her integrity, and…well hell, i could go on for about forever. She’s that special of a friend for me. Yeh, i think they invented that word “platonic” for us.

So Mike, give her a kiss for me and treat her well today.

And Susan, Happy Birthday, and thank you for being a fantastic woman and even better friend for essentially forever.

Thoughts After Reading an Evan Hunter Novel

When i finished the book last night, i sat down and began writing this with the intent to email it to my immediate family. This morning when i sat down at this infernal machine again, i decided i would like all of my family and friends to have access to it. i changed it a little, added a little, and…here it is:

I did not read The Blackboard Jungle. I saw the movie shortly after it came out in 1955. It was Sidney Poitier’s breakout film starring Glenn Ford. It was also disturbing to me for many different reasons. I did not realize until tonight it was written by Evan Hunter.

I did read Far from the Sea. i finished it tonight. It was equally disturbing for me for many different reasons than The Blackboard Jungle movie.

I am not recommending any of you, especially Blythe, Jason, Sarah, Maureen, or even later Sam read it. That should be your choice, and Blythe, knowing your dislike of sad endings you so well expressed after i got you to read Hemmingway’s Farewell to Arms, i don’t think you should consider it at all. The ending is not exactly sad, but the ending is more along the lines of the feelings i got at the end of The Graduate.

How did i get to this point?

Well, i read a ton of the 87th precinct police novels, which Evan Hunter, nee Salvatore Albert Lombino, wrote under the pen name Ed McBain, wrote and wrote and wrote (He wrote an astonishing 100 novels under that pen name). It was a long time ago, but i read at least a dozen of the crime novels. I liked his stuff. When i learned he wrote more “serious” fiction, i read his novel under the name of Evan Hunter. I don’t remember the novel, not even the name but i was impressed. Sometime around then, i bought Far from the Sea and put it in my library. Over two months ago, i pulled it out of the bookshelf.

♦       ♦          ♦

Reading again. You see i have been dormant in my reading for quite some time. There were always other things to do, which seemed so much more important at the time. And to be truthful, it hurt to read or re-read the authors i once loved to read: Hemmingway, Fitzgerald, Twain, Greene, Wouk, Doctorow, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Tolkein, and my two favorites Faulkner and Warren, because i was writing more and knew instantly with each sentence read, i would never achieve their incredible talent for writing. So i sort of quit, one, two, possibly three a year. But i wrote a lot.

You see, when i retired i had for years been building my library. I would hate to think, as my mother worried over and over again, how much money i spent on books, music, and sports, both participating and watching with the two last spending activities. It was a chunk, enough to feed the poor in a small third world country. But i have a magnificent library for me now. It’s behind me as i write, or most of it. The Durant’s histories, the Harvard Classics, The Franklin Library collection, sports, leadership, management, religions, politics, Navy, history, philosophy. When i retired…er, completed my Navy active duty service the day Sarah was born in 1989, i planned to read them all, and more. Haven’t got there yet, but hell, it’s only been twenty-nine years and counting. But i have been working and writing a lot…and playing golf and exercising and watching sports and going to symphonies and going to plays (no, not many movies: i watch my old favorites on television occasionally). Excuses.

So as this old age thing started catching up with me, i vowed to myself to stop with the excuses and get back to the reading i loved. After all, i did love it and still do. Just haven’t done it. So i have read three books this month and starting on my fourth.

♦       ♦          ♦

This one, Hunter’s Far from the Sea, has been difficult. First off, i didn’t like it. i didn’t like any of the characters. i did not like the premise. i did not like the plot. i didn’t like the focus on sex. i almost put it back in the bookshelf several times, but that would have betrayed my oath to myself, so i plodded. Just a little over half way through, i discovered i couldn’t put it away for a while, couldn’t quit thinking about it when i did. It was still difficult to read. i still did not like much about it. i could put it down, but i began to go back to it in shorter and shorter times in between. Two days after turning seventy-five, i sat down and read for more than two hours, a new record for the old me, and finished around 2230.

As i said, i felt like i felt at the end of “The Graduate.” Only it seemed so much more personal.

Hunter had a lot to say to me. i didn’t want to hear it but i did and it finally made sense. It was really a happy ending after what i thought was the denouement. But it didn’t feel like a happy ending.

It was powerful, and if i hadn’t read it and know what i know now, i would read it. i got a lot out of it for me. Personally.

And after all, that is really what reading is all about, isn’t it.

I’m still not recommending you read it.

Night Watch

Begun last night; finished tonight:

No, i wasn’t on a ship, but it felt a little like it. Like the evening watch, 2000 to 2400.

i had read about tonight’s lunar eclipse. i have seen several partial eclipses in my time. i’ve been around a number of solar eclipses, but never saw much sense in looking at a light so powerful it could ruin my eyes, even with filters or  pinholes in cardboard or whatever. i’m a little shy on the eclipse viewing scale, so i thought i would check this one out.

i left my chair by the hearth and a warm fire and wandered into the night. As with standing watches back in my day, i turned off the lights. Darken ship. Night vision. i had binoculars, not as heavy or as powerful as the olive green ones which used to hang around my neck, but it sort of felt like those other days. i was dressed warm enough for what is call cold in the Southwest corner: mid-fifties. i had on a tee shirt under a blue chambray cotton shirt — ahh, the best working uniform a sailor ever had, so we ditched them for all sorts of less useful things but the coveralls and who would want to dress like a submariner? Over the shirt, i had pulled on a green hoodie. It made me think of the best jacket ever made: the Navy’s drab olive green foul weather jacket. Oh, how i have often wished it had been part of my personal seabag, not an issue for ship wear. i could have used one about a gazillion times since i left the sea.

Earlier, the weather prognosticators had predicted rain, which meant cloudy skies, which meant this would be a bust. The rain however slid north as it often does. The clouds were thin and sparse. Looking up at the full moon, i knew i would be okay on that point. The bright beauty of the super full moon rises just a tad south of dead east in this neck of the woods and climbs in an arc diagonally over our home. It would be at about a sixty or seventy degree angle south by southeast  from our back yard when the eclipse occurred, perfect to view from the uncovered patio at the back of our yard proper. In this neck of the woods, when it would occur, the moon would be smack dab in the middle of the constellation Cancer the crab. The twins, Gemini would be at 11:00 from both on the direction clock of the sky.

i was out early. It looked like there was a stray wisp of a cloud covering the bottom of the moon. Initially, i was disappointed until i realized it was the shadow of the earth. The eclipse was beginning. i sat from around 2220 until around 2250, in a patio chair, not the captain’s chair on the starboard side, mind you, but in the XO’s chair on the port side, my ultimate, final location. Appropriately. Maureen and Sarah wandered in an out. It takes patience to watch an eclipse and for a rare time in my life, patience was in my approach. Sarah brought out my telescope Maureen gave me one Christmas, which i vow to use prolifically each year and either give up because of the complexity or my clumsiness or simply never get to it. We could not get the big scope to work. Now i have another to-do on my list. We shared the two sets of binoculars for…oh, about ten minutes.

They went inside around 2240. i remained a while, looking skyward, looking at the heavens, checking Castor and Pollux, the twins of Gemini, before returning my gaze to the darkening moon. It was not “blood red” here, but i could make out a tint of red.

No matter. As i peered at the heavens, i was taken back to being at sea, on the bridge of a ship with a star to navigate by and then further back when the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, and probably every other group of humans in the world at the time, without our seemingly limitless knowledge (Remember: Mose Allison intoned, “…I’ve been sitting around thinking about ultimate knowledge and such//The smartest man in the whole round world really don’t know that much//Well ain’t that just like living, blame it on your wife/Ain’t that just like living – what ever happened to real life?) and those folks back thousand of years ago awed by the vastness of the universe they didn’t know, making their sense of it.

And, as i did on the rushing Cumberland River in a fishing boat, then so many times at sea, and letting the petrified chunks of wood roll through my fingers as my nine-year old daughter Blythe frolicked in the Petrified Forest, and in the Christmas Eve service when they sing “Silent Night” with the lights off and each of the congregation holding candles aloft, i got this feeling inside, warm and calm, not induced, not invoked by someone else, but there: peace.

And wondering: why, oh why can’t we rise above our pettiness, our selfishness, our need for confirmation of our worth at the expense of others when we are so insignificant in so many ways, yet so much a part of this whole thing far beyond what we can discern even now with all of the knowledge we have gained along with (“the smartest man in the whole round world,” we really don’t know that much. And the thing that separates us from the animals and all else is this idea of humanity, going beyond the instinctual self preservation to be humane, kind to others, true justice seeking.

And it matters not, i think as i go inside in the chill of the night as the eclipse begins to wane. It has to be me, or you if you prefer, who chooses to live in the spirit of what i felt, a oneness in the vastness of it all, a mariner with his stars and his Cancer and his Gemini and his star to navigate by, to live as well as one can, knowing what is right deep inside just as the feeling that i felt then and now.

It is time to be human, real, kind, in peace.

The Celebration of Three Quarters of a Century Is Over

For 75, it was a good day.

Southwest corner weather has been like old Southwest corner weather. i used to say sometime between November and March, we would have thirty days of rain and cloudy weather with enough of our typical 8 out of 10 rated weather to keep us satisfied. That has not been the case in the last five or six years or so. Now, we’ve been into about three weeks of that old time winter weather but a mild Santa Ana crept back in for our Friday Morning Golf (FMG: since it’s been happening since 1991, it has acquired its own acronym) and the beauty of San Diego winter weather remained for my birthday. Symbolic? i think not. After all these years, i remain amazed at how our green time of the year is January and February. By March , the hills and open areas are beginning to turn brown again and pretty much stay that way the rest of the year. Yesterday every time i would look at the hills, i would think of my father who, like me, always marveled at the green of Southwest corner winter.

We had lunch with our nephew Mike Boase at City Taco in old La Mesa, a wonderful hole-in-the-wall diner, looking like it might be a chain but isn’t, with unique and extremely good tacos of all sorts, great sides, an outdoor sitting area in the back, and, of course, Pacifico Beer, my favorite from all of those from South of the Border although the memory of my father and father-in-law taking a break with me and enjoying Dox Equis Amber out of my long gone half refrigerator just for beer in the garage puts Dos Equis right up there. We had a delightful conversation and catching up with Mike, a good soul. As with many others, i vowed to make such get togethers more frequent.

Then we met Sarah at the Zoo. And in the middle of Africa Rocks with the baboons having a group fight in the background, my daughter Blythe and grandson Sam conversed with us via Facetime, the highlight of my day.

The zoo, my long time favorite place to go, was right up there on the good of the day. We covered at least five miles and it seemed nearly all of the animals were to be seen rather than hiding from sight as many do during daytime visits. The San Diego Zoo has been a mainstay in my world since i first came here to live in 1975. i took Blythe there every chance i had. Later, when Blythe stayed in Texas, the zoo was always at the top of our lists when she visited. Sarah and i began our treks in the early nineties. She is now an aficionado and is pretty much our tour guide when we go.  And in addition to marveling at the beauty of the beasts, i have many memories to wander through my mind about special times there.

We finished our day at The Rose. It has become our go to place for special occasions, birthdays and anniversaries. Superb cooking, superb wine offerings, superb atmosphere, and superb customer service. We sit at the bar. They even gave us a special berry and apple tart topped by homemade strawberry ice cream gratis with a candle on top.

i came home to televised sports and an early bedtime.

It was a wonderful day for an old man.

This morning, they were forecasting rain moving in by late afternoon, pretty much assuring we won’t be able to observe the “Super Blood Moon” lunar eclipse this evening.” Too bad. It would have been a good end to a birthday weekend.

So it is time to move on. It is time for the next quarter of a century or however long i last. i plan to be a little bit different: doing all i can do and not doing things i shouldn’t, recognize my limitations and my possibilities, leaving my grandson, not to brag about my accomplishments (which seem pretty average to me right now) but to give him some examples of living from which he might learn something to do or something to not do — i will not tell him those things: that is for him and his parents to figure out.

And you know what?

Life goes on.

Letting Go

It’s different, this letting go thing.

i mean, i’m 75, three-quarters of a century old. Today.

It’s time to do what i think i should do for the rest of my life. Part of that is letting go.

For example, this was originally a long, long post detailing a whole bunch of stuff that i think is important, why i think it’s important and with long-winded explanations. This was supposed to be my epilogue on reaching what i consider officially old age. It kept growing. i finally recognized it would not have much impact, only allow me to blow off steam and feel good about me. This is pretty close to, excuse the French, bullshit. i tossed it.

A whole bunch of people my age spend a lot of time grousing about how much better they are than the younger generations because of the way they, the older ones like me, grew up. Balderdash. After all, who raised those who grew up later: the grousers. And the world is a whole lot different now, not better or worse unless we make it. Our time doesn’t apply.

And folks of all ages are out witch hunting, Victorian style, policing what we say, how we act, finding everything wrong with everyone else, both sides, drawing lines in the sand because everyone knows they are right, everyone else is wrong, winner take all, no quarter, change everything to benefit ME.

That’s why, by the way, i use lower case for “i.” If i were to capitalize a pronoun it would be “You” or “Us.”

In elementary school, i was taught the Communists believed the ends justified the means and we believed in the ends could not justify the means. We were taught to do it right. That is the one thing we should have maintained, but didn’t.

i’m just sort of tired of it all. You can have it. i don’t want it.

So folks, it’s my time to let go. i am not likely to make it to the century mark. My physical and mental skills are declining. So i’m gonna write what i want to write and do what i want to do as long as i can do it, and hopefully give some people some things to think about in a positive way.

After all, i can do what i want to do. i’ve been around three-quarters of a century. i deserve that for myself.

Happy Birthday, old man.


After my post, “A Different Take” about “The Wall.” i have received several comments from friends who are for building the wall. Their reasons vary but all are logically thought out. i also discussed this with my golfing buddies yesterday after our round (beer, of course, included).

i think my most salient point from that post is a grossly underestimated cost (in many ways). In my latest discussion with my friend Jane Couch Boyer, we considered the problem again. Below is a redacted version of that exchange after Jane sent me a video of the Texas Attorney General claiming his statistics show El Paso’s wall works because of high crime rates in Ciudad Juarez and a huge decrease in crime rates in El Paso.

Hmm, statistics from very political Republicans. Hmm, i’ve seen similar “statistics” claims of just the opposite from very political Democrats. So i’m not going to argue political statistics period. After i watched that video, here is our discussion (Thanks, Jane):

No, they (border walls) don’t. They intimidate. They get the fervor up. We have the technology to keep anyone from crossing the border illegally much more effectively and much less expensive than a wall. Satellites, GPS, drones, video systems, and weapons that can immediately eliminate illegal entry. This (the wall) is a purely political position, once endorsed by the Democrats and opposed by the Republicans. If we want to stop illegal entry, then give me and a couple of my SEAL and SPAWAR friends (and one very savvy former Army artillery guy who was at the cutting edge of using the available technology above) the mandate with no restrictions and we can do it.

I like your solution. Do you think a couple of you could cover the entire border?

i suspect it would take about a hundred of us. But if it became a government project, it would require an additional five or six thousand.

Just sayin’…


Salt and pepper. Sugar and spice. Ham and eggs. Hot and cold. Left and right. Biscuits and gravy. Bogey and Bacall. Abbot and Costello. Burns and Allen. Lewis and Martin. Roy and Dale and Trigger and Bullet.

And then there are my couples, two folks who hooked up and have, not only stayed together, but have become as much of a match as the pairs listed above. There is no way i could list all of those i know, but here are some who stand out in my mind:

My folks: She told her mother when she was a sophomore-to-be in high school who she was going to marry. He was in bib jeans, no shirt, walking home to Spring Street after helping his father doing daily maintenance at Lebanon High School. She was visiting her mother. Granny was working 24-7 as a nurse, or what we now call a care-giver, in a home on North Cumberland Street, east side. As he was walking down the hill approaching the house, she tugged at her mother and had her come to the porch. As he walked by, she told her mother that was the man she was going to marry. Six years later, she did. They were not rich, far from it. He was working at Hankins and Smith by 1938, a mechanic if not already the shop supervisor for $13 a week. She had taken a job as a teller for Commerce Union Bank for $22 a month. She also was helping several businesses with their book keeping to supplement their incomes. They never stopped working. They did all right by my measure. They never stopped loving. And they were complimentary to each other’s expertise and their personalities. Yeh, they are tops on my couples list.

My daughter Blythe and her husband Jason Gander. i said it when i made my toast at the reception after their wedding they had the best chance of anyone i knew to matching her grandparents as a couple. They are doing pretty well at it. She met him when she was visiting us in the Southwest Corner. He was a sailor, an aviation boatswainmate on the USS Tripoli. They fooled around for a couple of years after he got out and went back to Kansas, but apparently, he couldn’t stand it and moved to Austin to be with her. It worked. They have an amazing son, Sam, my grandson.

Then there’s Eddie and Brenda Callis. High school sweethearts. Lasted a long time. They play gin rummy every day. She is still winning. They take care of a lot of people in many ways. Brenda is the daughter of my father’s boss, later partner. We’ve known each other a long time, even longer than either of us have known Eddie. No matter. They are rather spectacular.

Henry and Brenda Harding. Married late. Didn’t matter. They have a relationship as strong, if not stronger than anyone i know. i met Henry at our Christening several years ago. Feel like i know him like a brother. Heck, he is my other brother. Every time i see them, which is far too infrequently, i marvel at the strength of their relationship.

Marty and Linda Linville. They too were high school sweethearts, marrying while he was going to college and playing football. Long lasting. Strong. i smile every Friday morning when i see Marty park before our Friday morning golf round. He calls her to see how she is doing and to let her know he got there safely.

Pete and Nancy Toennies. i really can’t tell who made which decision. They are synergistic. Met out here when Pete was a new Navy SEAL and she was a nurse. He’s from New York City. She is from Southwest Tennessee/Northwest Mississippi and the Florida panhandle. Doesn’t matter. Perfect.

There are many others. i won’t go into my thoughts about Maureen and some goofy guy. i’ve pretty well covered that and undoubtedly will do so again. Although we were later: she was 33; i was approaching 40. Been a pretty amazing ride these last 35 years.

The impetus in writing about couples is one other set of them. Thinking about these two set me off about considering couples.

Buddy and Beverly Phillips. Buddy fell in love with Beverly sometime around junior high, i think if not earlier. He waited patiently for several years. He was rewarded. It does not matter how long they have been married (it’s a long time). When i see them, it makes me feel warm inside. The world got something right when they matched up.

Beverly has been having some health problems again. She beat it the first time. With the strength of their love, i’m thinking she’s going to beat it again. That would make me feel better. After all, they are a couple. A real perfect couple.


No Starry Night, Only Calm

After i wrote my last, i promise, post about our country’s challenges, i fired up the “egg” grill knock off. Maureen and i, in a rare moment, collaborated on our halibut dinner. She did the tough stuff: the gourmet sauce and magic butter dish for the fish, the asparagus, and of course, another of her incredible salads, along with the bread she somehow finds to match a meal perfectly.


i monitored the grill, greased up what was necessary, turned on my iPod bluetooth for old time music, and waited patiently in what we call in paradise weather as cold (about sixty degrees), finally putting the fish on the grill for a few moments.

i turned on my “Sky Guide” to study the heavens’ constellations, planets, and stars as the charcoal fired up to fish cooking level. There were high clouds in anticipation of a front coming through tomorrow. The starry constellations were obscure. i could not find Venus, but i found Mars. It was dim below the waxing crescent moon. Directly underneath was my ensign…er, flag at the crest of our hill. i could barely make out the stars and stripes, vowing to add some more light. It was a pleasing feeling to look up at it and forward to whatever happens next:









A Different Take

Recently, i exchanged FB messages with a close friend from back home. Jane Couch Boyer now lives in Philadelphia. She’s a huge Philadelphia Flyer fan, and from our exchanges, i believe she leans toward conservative. She is also a well-thought person who seeks facts for her decision making. i like her a lot.

i planned to copy that exchange here and received Jane’s permission to do so. i wrote a fairly long piece explaining my thoughts.

i tossed it, the explanation and our message exchange.

You see, i am once again caught in the middle. i see the need and even the logic of the more reasonable arguments on both sides of “The Wall” issue.

i will not make my opinion about the politics of the situation public. i will be more than willing to have a one-on-one discussion on the subject with anyone who is reasonable and will listen to other’s opinions with an open mind. Like Jane.

But i am out of that business and almost forgot.

So my argument is not political.

i am only addressing what seems obvious to me.

Here is what i think about the whole brouhaha which is causing much more bad of everything than it’s worth:

A “Wall” will not keep the bad guys out. They have proven they will figure out a way to do their dirty deeds.

A “Wall” will not come close to costing $5 Billion. Having some experience on both sides of government contracting, the cost will be at least three to five times that figure.

And personally, the idea of a wall brings to my mind another wall in Germany. Yes, it was to keep people in, not out, but the idea of creating a symbol of limiting personal freedom is objectionable to me.

There are good reasons for and against “The Wall.” i can see the logic of both.

And folks, i’m within days of living here three-quarters of a century. i’m tired of rigidity. i’m sad my friends can’t communicate and resolve real problems when both have good points.

And i want to live the rest of my life living a good life, not reacting to the crazy, illogical current state of politics.

i plan to do that. Thank you, Jane for allowing me to consider the situation and review my opinion. For everyone else:

Have at it.