Harrison J. Goldin, Longtime New York City Comptroller, Dies at 90
Harrison J. Goldin, Longtime New York City Comptroller, Dies at 90
Harrison J. Goldin, who served as New York City’s comptroller for 16 years and was pivotal in steering the city through its near-bankruptcy in the 1970s, his death was reported on September 16th, 2024. He was 90.
A Harvard Law School graduate, Goldin was a driving force in New York politics from the late 1960s through the 1980s. Goldin, who won the election to become New York City’s comptroller in 1973, and his tenure coincided with one of the city’s most challenging financial crises. Goldin, then-Mayor Abraham Beame, and others worked tirelessly to restructure the city’s finances, helping to avert fiscal collapse. He was instrumental in negotiating critical deals with creditors and introducing reforms that put the city on a path toward financial recovery.
Goldin’s unwavering commitment to public finance and his no-nonsense approach earned him a reputation as a watchdog for the public purse. He initiated audits of city agencies and pushed for greater transparency and efficiency in government spending, leaving an indelible mark on the comptroller’s office. Even amid New York’s darkest financial days, Goldin remained steady, advocating for long-term solutions over short-term fixes, inspiring all with his steadfast commitment.
Harrison Golden
Before his time as comptroller, Goldin was a New York State Senator, championing civil rights, education reform, and fair housing policies. His political career reflected his deep commitment to social justice, a value he carried throughout his public service and one that we can all appreciate.
Following his departure from public office in 1989, Goldin transitioned to private law practice, consulting on financial matters and representing high-profile clients. He remained a respected voice in financial and legal circles despite stepping back from the political spotlight.
Goldin leaves behind many family and friends who remember him as a dedicated public servant, a passionate advocate for New Yorkers, and a loving father and grandfather.
His contributions to the city’s financial recovery will long stand, as New York owes much of its financial resilience to the groundwork he helped lay during its most difficult times. We are grateful for his service and dedication.
Five years ago, on September 15, 2019, after about a six-week hiatus during the summer, I wrote a Facebook post that started:
“Many thanks to all of you who have reached out to see if I’m okay. I am, indeed (aside from having been on the losing end of an encounter with a yellow jacket this afternoon!). I’ve been moving, setting up house, and finishing the new book. Am back and ready to write, but now everything seems like such a dumpster fire it’s very hard to know where to start. So how about a general overview of how things at the White House look to me, today….”
I wrote a review of Trump’s apparent mental decline amidst his faltering presidency, stonewalling of investigations of potential criminal activity by him or his associates, stacking of the courts, and attempting to use the power of the government to help his 2020 reelection.
Then I noted that the chair of the House Intelligence Committee, Representative Adam Schiff (D-CA), had written a letter to the acting director of national intelligence, Joseph Maguire, on Friday, September 13, telling Maguire he knew that a whistleblower had filed a complaint with the inspector general of the intelligence community, who had deemed the complaint “credible” and “urgent.” This meant that the complaint was supposed to be sent on to the House Intelligence Committee. But, rather than sending it to the House as the law required, Maguire had withheld it. Schiff’s letter told Maguire that he’d better hand it over. Schiff speculated that Maguire was covering up evidence of crimes by the president or his closest advisors.
And I added: “None of this would fly in America if the Senate, controlled by Majority Leader Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, were not aiding and abetting him.”
“This is the story of a dictator on the rise,” I wrote, “taking control of formerly independent branches of government, and using the power of his office to amass power.”
Readers swamped me with questions. So I wrote another post answering them and trying to explain the news, which began breaking at a breathtaking pace.
And so these Letters from an American were born.
In the five years since then, the details of the Ukraine scandal—the secret behind the whistleblower complaint in Schiff’s letter—revealed that then-president Trump was running his own private foreign policy to strong-arm Ukraine into helping his reelection campaign. That effort brought to light more of the story of Russian support for Trump’s 2016 campaign, which until Russia’s February 2022 invasion of Ukraine seemed to be in exchange for lifting sanctions the Obama administration imposed against Russia after Russia invaded Ukraine in 2014.
The February 2022 invasion brought renewed attention to the Mariupol Plan, confirmed by Trump’s 2016 campaign advisor Paul Manafort, that Russia expected a Trump administration to permit Russian president Vladimir Putin to take over eastern Ukraine.
The Ukraine scandal of 2019 led to Trump’s first impeachment trial for abuse of power and obstruction of Congress, then his acquittal on those charges and his subsequent purge of career government officials, whom he replaced with Trump loyalists.
Then, on February 7, just two days after Senate Republicans acquitted him, Trump picked up the phone and called veteran journalist Bob Woodward to tell him there was a deadly new virus spreading around the world. It was airborne, he explained, and was five times “more deadly than even your strenuous flus.” “This is deadly stuff,” he said. He would not share that information with other Americans, though, continuing to play down the virus in hopes of protecting the economy.
More than a million of us did not live through the ensuing pandemic.
We have, though, lived through the attempts of the former president to rig the 2020 election, the determination of American voters to make their voices heard, the Black Lives Matter protests after the murder of George Floyd, the election of Democrat Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris, and the subsequent refusal of Trump and his loyalists to accept Biden’s win.
And we have lived through the unthinkable: an attack on the U.S. Capitol by a mob determined to overrule the results of an election and install their own candidate in the White House. For the first time in our history, the peaceful transfer of power was broken. Republican senators saved Trump again in his second impeachment trial, and rather than disappearing after the inauguration of President Biden, Trump doubled down on the Big Lie that he had been the true winner of the 2020 presidential election.
We have seen the attempts of Biden and the Democratic-controlled Congress to move America past this dark moment by making coronavirus vaccines widely available and passing landmark legislation to rebuild the economy. The American Rescue Plan, the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law, the CHIPS and Science Act, and the Inflation Reduction Act spurred the economy to become the strongest in the world, proving that the tested policy of investing in ordinary Americans worked far better than post-1980 neoliberalism ever did. After Republicans took control of the House in 2023, we saw them paralyze Congress with infighting that led them, for the first time in history, to throw out their own speaker, Kevin McCarthy (R-CA).
We have watched as the Supreme Court, stacked by Trump with religious extremists, has worked to undermine the proven system in place before 1981. It took away the doctrine that required courts to defer to government agencies’ reasonable regulations and opened the way for big business to challenge those regulations before right-wing judges. It ended affirmative action in colleges and universities, and it overturned the 1973 Roe v. Wade decision recognizing the constitutional right to abortion.
And then we watched the Supreme Court hand down the stunning decision of July 1, 2024, that overturned the fundamental principle of the United States of America that no one is above the law. In Donald J. Trump v. U.S., the Supreme Court ruled that a president could not be prosecuted for crimes committed as part of his official duties.
We saw the reactionary authoritarianism of the former president’s supporters grow stronger. In Republican-dominated states across the country, legislatures passed laws to suppress Democratic voting and to put the counting of votes into partisan hands. Trump solidified control over the Republican Party and tightened his ties to far-right authoritarians and white supremacists. Republicans nominated him to be their presidential candidate in 2024 to advance policies outlined in Project 2025 that would concentrate power in the president and impose religious nationalism on the country. Trump chose as his running mate religious extremist Ohio senator J.D. Vance, putting in line for the presidency a man whose entire career in elected office consisted of the eighteen months he had served in the Senate.
In that first letter five years ago, I wrote: “So what do those of us who love American democracy do? Make noise. Take up oxygen…. Defend what is great about this nation: its people, and their willingness to innovate, work, and protect each other. Making America great has never been about hatred or destruction or the aggregation of wealth at the very top; it has always been about building good lives for everyone on the principle of self-determination. While we have never been perfect, our democracy is a far better option than the autocratic oligarchy Trump is imposing on us.”
And we have made noise, and we have taken up oxygen. All across the country, people have stepped up to defend our democracy from those who are open about their plans to destroy it and install a dictator. Democrats and Republicans as well as people previously unaligned, we have reiterated why democracy matters, and in this election where the issue is not policy differences but the very survival of our democracy, we are working to elect Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris and her running mate, Minnesota governor Tim Walz.
If you are tired from the last five years, you have earned the right to be.
And yet, you are still here, reading.
I write these letters because I love America. I am staunchly committed to the principle of human self-determination for people of all races, genders, abilities, and ethnicities, and I believe that American democracy could be the form of government that comes closest to bringing that principle to reality. And I know that achieving that equality depends on a government shaped by fact-based debate rather than by extremist ideology and false narratives.
And so I write.
But I have come to understand that I am simply the translator for the sentiments shared by millions of people who are finding each other and giving voice to the principles of democracy. Your steadfast interest, curiosity, critical thinking, and especially your kindness—to me and to one another—illustrate that we have not only the power, but also the passion, to reinvent our nation.
To those who read these letters, send tips, proofread, criticize, comment, argue, worry, cheer, award medals (!), and support me and one another: I thank you for bringing me along on this wild, unexpected, exhausting, and exhilarating journey.
Richardson has authored seven books on history and politics. In 2019, Richardson started publishing Letters from an American, a nightly newsletter that chronicles current events in the larger context of American history.[3] The newsletter accrued over one million subscribers, making her, as of December 2020, the most successful individual author of a paid publication on Substack.[4 (see more click here)
Today, ultra-processed foods dominate the American food supply, making up over half of an American adult’s diet and two-thirds of an American child’s diet despite links to poor health.
Even as those numbers are likely to increase, and food technology develops at lightning speed, U.S. agencies have seemed to lag behind in updating the rules that regulate these foods compared to other countries.
CBS Reports examines why ultra-processed foods have become so pervasive in the American diet – and what filling the gaps in federal regulation can do to ensure Americans are fed and healthy.
Watch Ultra Processed: How Food Tech Consumed the American Diet on CBS News, Paramount+ or by downloading the free CBS News App.
Earline S. Rogers, a distinguished American politician and lifelong education and civil rights advocate, passed away on September 5, 2024, at 89. Rogers dedicatedly served the people of Indiana for over thirty years, first in the Indiana House of Representatives from 1982 to 1990 and then in the Indiana State Senate, representing District 3 from 1990 through 2016.
As a proud member of the Democratic Party and the Indiana Black Legislative Caucus, she championed legislative efforts to support education, working families, and her beloved community of Gary, Indiana.
Born on December 20, 1934, Earline Rogers was a trailblazer from an early age. She earned her Bachelor’s (1957) and Master’s (1971) degrees from Indiana University, Bloomington.
Her career began as an educator in the Gary Community School Corporation, where Earline made a lasting impact by [specific impact]. Her passion for public service led her to the Gary City Council, where she served as a member and President from 1980 to 1982.
Rogers made history with her election to the Indiana House of Representatives in 1982. During her tenure, she spearheaded [specific achievements] and continued to rise, later serving as Minority Whip during her tenure in the Indiana Senate. She was a strong and tireless voice on numerous committees, including Appropriations, Homeland Security, and Transportation, and as the Ranking Minority Member on the Education and Career Development and Family and Children Services committees.
Throughout her career, she was known for improving education and advocating for students, always believing in the power of knowledge to empower and transform lives.
2016, after more than 30 years of public service, Rogers retired from political life, choosing not to seek re-election. Earline’s dedication and influence will continue to shape and inspire future generations through the laws she helped shape and the generations of students she inspired.
Earline Rogers leaves a legacy of courage, compassion, and commitment to public service. Her unwavering dedication to her community, particularly her profound belief in the importance of education as the key to progress and equality, will continue to inspire and connect us all.
She leaves behind a legacy of strength, integrity, and kindness that earned her the respect and admiration of her family, friends, and countless colleagues. Her memory will shine brightly forever in the hearts of those who knew her and the lives she touched throughout her incredible life.
Tom Richardson awoke one ordinary morning with an extraordinary conviction: he was the sole individual of significance. He did not consider himself to be isolated—others still surrounded him. However, in his perception, they were merely silhouettes, existing solely to fulfill his desires, frustrations, and caprices. The needs, emotions, and experiences of all others were simply ambient noise, inconsequential to the grand narrative of his existence. In this self-centered realm, Tom stood as the sole inhabitant, a solitary monarch in a realm of his own creation.
Tom was entitled, cutting to the front of lines, talking over people in meetings, and driving through red lights without hesitation. He believed the world should move at his pace, bulldozing through daily interactions with unchecked arrogance.
At work, Tom’s behavior was incredibly disruptive. His coworkers noticed how he monopolized conversations during meetings, often interrupting others and steering the discussions towards his own agenda. He frequently dismissed ideas he did not like, making it challenging for his colleagues to express their opinions freely. Additionally, Tom had a habit of taking credit for work he had not done, which created a toxic environment of mistrust and resentment among the team. His colleague Melissa, in particular, had spent months pouring her energy and creativity into a project, only to watch Tom take the spotlight during the presentation without acknowledging her contributions. Her face burned with frustration and disappointment, but Tom was already basking in the praise, completely unaware—or uncaring—of the hurt he had caused. As a result of his actions, the morale of the team suffered, productivity decreased, and valuable talent began seeking opportunities elsewhere. The tangible consequences of Tom’s behavior were felt deeply by those around him, and the weight of his actions continued to impact the work environment.
Outside the office, Tom’s interactions were just as callous. In a crowded coffee shop, he snapped at the barista for taking too long with his order. When the woman in front of him politely asked if she could move ahead to grab her drink, Tom scoffed and said, “Wait your turn, like the rest of us.” It never occurred to him that her child was crying in the car outside or that her day might unravel.
In relationships, Tom’s selfishness is all-consuming. His girlfriend, Kate, was initially patient, excusing his behavior as stress. However, as time passed, she realized that Tom’s wants and needs dictated every conversation, every plan, and every moment they shared.
“Can we ever do something I want?”
she asked one evening. Tom shrugged, dismissing her words as if they were background noise.
“It is not that important,”
he replied, flipping through the TV channels as she sat beside him, feeling smaller every second.
The world began to push back.
At work, Melissa and other colleagues stopped inviting Tom to meetings. His input was more a hindrance than a help. Projects moved more smoothly without his constant interruptions. The team thrived in his absence, but Tom remained blissfully unaware, believing that his exclusion was a sign of jealousy or resentment, never his behavior.
On the streets, strangers grew cold. People who once offered pleasantries started to avoid him. The barista, usually polite despite his rudeness, began greeting him with silent, stony indifference. Tom, of course, assumed they were having bad days.
“Not my problem,” ––– he muttered each time.
At home, Kate left. Her final words echoed through their now-empty apartment:
“You do not see me, Tom. Tom, never will you see me!.”
Tom stood in the doorway, confused and angry, unable to comprehend why she was so upset. As far as he was concerned, everything had been fine—because everything had always been about him.
However, despite the growing distance between him and the world, Tom did not connect the dots. The problem, as far as he was concerned, was not him. It was everyone else. Why didn’t people understand that he was in charge of his life? Why didn’t they see that his needs were urgent, his time valuable, his presence essential? His self-centeredness was creating a chasm between him and the rest of the world, a gap that was widening with each passing day.
The final straw came one quiet evening. Tom sat in a restaurant, dining alone —–– a common occurrence now. He waved the waiter over impatiently, complaining about the wait for his meal. The waiter, a man in his late fifties with graying hair and tired eyes, looked at Tom and sighed.
“You are not the only person in the world, you know,” the waiter said softly, his voice edged with exhaustion. “You act like we are all here just for you, but we are not.”
Tom bristled at the remark, ready to retort with something biting to remind the man of his place. However, the waiter’s words hung in the air momentarily, their truth unsettled. The weight of his words, heavy with truth, began to sink in, stirring something deep within Tom.
For the first time in a long time, Tom looked around. The restaurant was filled with people—couples sharing meals, families laughing, servers rushing between tables. Each of them had their own stories, struggles, and lives. They were not shadows. They were not here for him. They were living their own lives, just as vivid and real as his.
The weight of it settled on Tom like a cold wave. For years, he had moved through the world as if it were his stage, oblivious to the people around him. He had interrupted their lives, stepped over their feelings, and demanded their attention without a second thought. He had bulldozed his way through, never considering the damage he left behind.
And then, in a moment that would change his life, he saw it. For the first time, Tom indeed saw the world around him, not as a stage for his performance, but as a rich tapestry of lives, each as important as his own.
Tom left the restaurant without finishing his meal, the waiter’s words echoing in his mind. As he walked down the street, past people he had never noticed, a strange feeling stirred in him—something akin to humility, though he would not have called it that. It was a shift in his attitude and his perception of the world.
The world did not revolve around him—it never had. Perhaps, for the first time in his life, Tom realized just how much he had lost because of it.
As just as he did, not expecting for it to happen, Jesus Christ popped in and said he is going to vote for Kamala Harris!
The GOP, particularly their latest pick as Trump’s potential successor, keeps asking why Kamala Harris hasn’t accomplished everything she claims she’ll do if elected.
As Vice President, Harris’s role isn’t to set policy but to support the President’s mission. Over the past four years, that mission has centered on recovering from Trump’s administration’s chaos. Trump’s mishandling of the COVID-19 pandemic blindsided the nation, but despite these challenges, the Biden-Harris administration has worked tirelessly to put Americans back to work and rebuild neglected institutions.
It’s important to understand that any proposed initiatives by the President or Vice President require funding and legislation, which starts in the GOP-controlled House. Bipartisan cooperation is crucial, but the current House struggles to agree on leadership, let alone budgeting and legislation. The GOP’s track record in these areas is questionable at best. Blaming someone and then withholding their ability is classic GOP.
It is why many of Harris’s proposed measures are likely to gain traction during the first two years of her potential administration when a Democratic majority in both the Senate and House is more likely.
If critics want to question what Harris should have already accomplished, they should first focus on sponsoring and passing the necessary legislation. Only then can Harris take the steps needed to fulfill her promises.
In a time of intense political enthusiasm, the nation’s largest city braced for the Democratic National Convention. The convention was monumental, drawing over 200,000 people, including fervent supporters, passionate protestors, and those harboring darker intentions. The city’s population swelled, and the number of people and calls for service pushed authorities’ abilities, as law enforcement officers from seven neighboring states were called to ensure the safety of all in attendance.
The Convention Management needed two massive arenas to accommodate the influx of attendees, all eager to witness the nomination of their party’s candidate. Security was tight, with officers meticulously screening everyone entering the venues. Despite the thorough checks, the atmosphere was tense; no one knew what might happen as the evening unfolded.
As the convention began, volunteers handed out bracelets and necklaces designed to light up in vibrant shades of blue and pink. These accessories, when activated, blinked with a strobe-like effect, adding to the electric atmosphere. However, as the lights flashed rapidly, the joy turned into panic. For some, the blinking lights triggered seizures, turning the arena into a scene of chaos as over five hundred attendees began convulsing.
The sudden medical emergency overwhelmed the official responders. But amid the turmoil, a few quick-thinking attendees with first responder training stepped in, helping to manage the situation. They guided others in assisting the stricken, and together, they stabilized the crisis without needing additional outside help.
Realizing the cause of the seizures, the speaker at the podium urged the crowd to switch their bracelets and necklaces to a steady glow or to turn them off altogether. As the crowd complied, the flashing lights faded, and calm returned to the arena.
But a new and more sinister threat emerged just as the situation seemed to be under control. An embittered and desperate opposing candidate had managed to slip into the venue through a back door. Claiming he had a scheduled meeting with his Democratic opponent, he bypassed security and found his way to a room intended for the candidate.
Unbeknownst to him, the candidate wasn’t there that evening. Instead, a former First Lady entered the room, unaware of the intruder’s presence. As she closed the door behind her, the man, believing he was facing his political rival, prepared to attack. But before he could strike, the former First Lady, trained in Krav Maga, swiftly neutralized him. In a matter of seconds, the would-be attacker was subdued, left crying, and defeated on the floor.
He didn’t know the incident was captured on a security camera, complete with audio. The footage revealed his violent intentions, his use of racist slurs, and his plan to kill who he thought was his opponent. The video also showed the failure of both his and her security teams to prevent the breach, highlighting the danger she faced.
Despite the overwhelming evidence, the authorities neither arrested nor questioned the intruder. Instead, the former First Lady, a Black woman, was detained and interrogated as if she were the aggressor. It wasn’t until the security footage was reviewed that the truth was undeniable: she had acted in self-defense against a deliberate attack.
A week later, authorities showed the video to the public. The opposing campaign scrambled to make excuses, suggesting that the former First Lady should have chosen a different dressing room and their candidate had every right to be where he was. But the damage was done. The public, especially the supporters of the former First Lady and her candidate, were galvanized. They were more determined than ever to prevent such evil from reaching the Oval Office.
Ultimately, what began as a night of political celebration became a defining moment in the campaign. One woman’s bravery, coupled with the quick thinking of ordinary citizens, may have saved her life and the nation’s future.
On August 6, 2024 Heather Cox Richardson wrote on Substack the following entry, it was to the point and told exactly what people should know about Tim Walz. He is a decent human being. Who has done a number of things in life. Some of those things came at making human decisions. Fallible to a point, he may be. Who isn’t? Heather’s writing begins next –––
Today Vice President Kamala Harris named her choice for her vice presidential running mate: Governor Tim Walz of Minnesota. Walz grew up in rural Nebraska. He enlisted in the Army National Guard when he was 17 and served for 24 years, retiring in 2005 as a command sergeant major, making him the highest-ranking enlisted soldier ever to serve in Congress, according to the House Committee on Veterans’ Affairs.
He went to college with the educational benefits afforded him thanks to his service in the Army, and graduated from Chadron (Nebraska) State College. From 1989 to 1990, he taught at a high school in China, then became a social studies teacher in Alliance, Nebraska, where he met fellow teacher Gwen Whipple, who became his wife. They moved to Minnesota, where they both continued teaching and had two children, Hope and Gus, through IVF.
Walz became the faculty advisor for the school’s gay-straight alliance organization at the same time that he coached the high-school football team from a 0–27 record to a state championship. The advisor “really needed to be the football coach, who was the soldier and was straight and was married,” Walz said in 2018.
Walz ran for Congress in 2005 after some of his students were asked to leave a rally for George W. Bush because one of them had a sticker for Democratic presidential nominee John Kerry. Walz won and served in Congress for twelve years, sitting on the House Agriculture Committee, the Transportation and Infrastructure Committee, and the Committee on Veterans’ Affairs.
Voters elected Walz to the Minnesota state house in 2018, and in his second term they gave him a slim majority in the state legislature. With that support, Walz signed into law protections for abortion rights, supported gender-affirming care, and legalized the recreational use of marijuana. He signed into law gun safety legislation and protections for voting rights, and pushed for action to combat climate change and to promote renewable energy.
Strong tax revenues and spending cuts gave the state a $17.6 billion surplus, and the Democrats under Walz used the money not to cut taxes, as Republicans wanted, but to invest in education, fund free breakfast and lunch for schoolchildren, make tuition free at the state’s public colleges for students whose families earned less than $80,000 a year, and invest in paid family and medical leave and health insurance coverage regardless of immigration status.
While MAGA Republicans are already trying to define Walz as “far left,” his votes in Congress put him pretty squarely in the middle. His work with Lieutenant Governor Peggy Flanagan to expand technology production and infrastructure funding in the state was rewarded in 2023, when Minnesota knocked Texas out of the top five states for business. The CNBC rating looked at 86 indicators in 10 categories, including the workforce, infrastructure, health, and business friendliness.
Walz checks a number of boxes for the 2024 election, most notably that he hails from near the battleground states of Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania and comes across as a normal, nice guy. He favors unions, workers’ rights, and a $15 minimum wage. He is also the person who coined the phrase that took away the dangerous overtones of today’s MAGA Republicans by dubbing them “weird.” As a student of his said: “In politics he’s good at calling out B.S. without getting nasty or too down in the dirt…. It’s the kind of common sense he showed as a coach: practical and kinda goofy.”
Walz is also a symbol of an important resetting of the Democratic Party. He has been unapologetic about his popular programs. On Sunday, July 28, when CNN’s Jake Tapper listed some of Walz’s policies and asked if they made Walz vulnerable to Trump calling him a “big government liberal,” Walz joked that he was, indeed, a “monster.”
“Kids are eating and having full bellies so they can go learn, and women are making their own health care decisions, and we’re a top five business state, and we also rank in the top three of happiness…. The fact of the matter is,” where Democratic policies are implemented, “quality of life is higher, the economies are better…educational attainment is better. So yeah, my kids are going to eat here, and you’re going to have a chance to go to college, and you’re going to have an opportunity to live where we’re working on reducing carbon emissions. Oh, and by the way, you’re going to have personal incomes that are higher, and you’re going to have health insurance. So if that’s where they want to label me, I’m more than happy to take the label.”
Right-wing reactionary politicians have claimed to represent ordinary Americans since the time of the passage of the Voting Rights Act—on August 6, 1965, exactly 59 years ago today—by insisting that a government that works for communities is a “socialist” plan to elevate undeserving women and racial, ethnic, and gender minorities at the expense of hardworking white men.
Historically, though, rural America has quite often been the heart of the country’s progressive politics, and the Midwest has had a central place in that progressivism. Walz reintegrates that history with today’s Democratic Party.
That reintegration has left the Republicans flatfooted. Trump and J.D. Vance expected to continue their posturing as champions of the common man, but on that front the credentials of a New York real estate developer who inherited millions of dollars and of a Yale-educated venture capitalist pale next to a Nebraska-born schoolteacher. Bryan Metzger, politics reporter at Business Insider, pointed out that J.D. Vance tried to hit Walz as a “San Francisco-style liberal,” but while Vance lived in San Francisco as a venture capitalist between 2013 and 2017, Walz went to San Francisco for the first time just last month.
Head writer and producer of A Closer Look at Late Night with Seth Meyers Sal Gentile summed up Walz’s progressive politics and community vibe when he wrote on social media: “Tim Walz will expand free school lunches, raise the minimum wage, make it easier to unionize, fix your [carburetor], replace the old wiring in your basement, spray that wasp’s nest under the deck, install a new spring for your garage door and put a new chain on your lawnmower.”
Vice President Harris had a very deep bench from which to choose a running mate, but her choice of Walz seems to have been widely popular. Representatives Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York and Joe Manchin of West Virginia, who are usually on opposite sides of the party, both praised the choice, prompting Ocasio-Cortez to post: “Dems in disconcerting levels of array.”
Harris and Walz held their first rally together tonight in Philadelphia, where Pennsylvania governor Josh Shapiro, who had been a top contender for the vice presidential slot, fired up the crowd. “Each of us has a responsibility to get off the sidelines, to get in the game, and to do our part,” he said. “Are you ready to do your part? Are you ready to form a more perfect union? Are you ready to build an America where no matter what you look like, where you come from, who you love, or who you pray to, that this will be a place for you? And are you ready to look the next president of the United States in the eye and say, ‘Hello, Madam President?’ I am too, so let’s get to work!”
Pennsylvania is a crucial state, and Shapiro issued a statement offering his “enthusiastic support” to the ticket. He pledged “to work to unite Pennsylvanians behind my friends Kamala Harris and Tim Walz and defeat Donald Trump.”
The tides of change swept through every street, home, and heart in the nation’s heart. It was an era marked by uncertainty and tension as a rising conservative movement began to reshape the very fabric of society. The once-balanced scales of politics now tipped heavily in favor of those who believed in tradition, order, and a return to what they called “the good old days.”
~ Emma Caldwell, a liberal activist and journalist, sat in her small apartment, the glow of her laptop illuminating her worried face. She had spent years fighting for progress—campaigning for equal rights, environmental protection, and social justice. But now, every headline seemed to bring another blow to the causes she held dear, intensifying the urgency of her mission.
~
The latest news was the most disturbing yet: a proposed amendment to the constitution that would severely restrict freedom of speech and assembly, effectively silencing dissent and opposition. Emma’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she typed out an article, her words mixing passion and desperation. She knew that getting the truth out was more important than ever.
Across town, in a grand office overlooking the city, Senator Marcus Reid, a leading figure in the conservative movement, reviewed the day’s agenda. He believed sincerely in his cause, convinced the country had lost its way in a maze of liberal policies and needed to return to its core values. To him, the changes were necessary, even if they were painful.
As the days passed, protests erupted across the nation. Streets filled with a sea of faces—young and old, united by a shared fear of losing their rights. Emma was among them, her camera capturing the raw emotions of the crowd. She interviewed people from all walks of life: the single mother worried about her children’s future, the college student anxious about the loss of academic freedom, the elderly couple who had fought for civil rights decades ago and now saw history repeating itself.
Despite the growing unrest, the conservative agenda pushed forward relentlessly. The lawmakers passed laws at a dizzying pace, each chipping away at the freedoms many had taken for granted. These laws included [specific laws], which directly affected [specific groups of people]. The country seemed to be spiraling into a new era of authoritarianism, and the hope that once burned brightly in the hearts of liberals began to dim.
Emma found herself at a crossroads. Her work was censored, and her voice was stifled by the very government she had once trusted to protect her freedoms. But she refused to give up. Gathering a small group of like-minded individuals, she formed an underground network dedicated to preserving and disseminating information. Their determination was a silent but powerful force, inspiring others with their unwavering resolve.
Senator Reid, now one of the most powerful men in the country, began to sense the growing resistance. He dismissed it at first, confident that his vision was the right path. However, as the underground movement gained momentum, Senator Reid realized that silencing dissent was more complex than passing laws. The human spirit, he discovered, was not so quickly subdued. One evening, Emma received a message from an anonymous source—a high-ranking government official who had grown disillusioned with the conservative regime. The source provided her with classified documents detailing the administration’s plans to tighten their grip on power further.
These documents revealed [specific details], a dangerous revelation, but Emma knew it was the spark needed to ignite a more significant movement.
She leaked the documents to the public with the help of her network. The revelations shook the country, and the streets again filled with protesters. This time, their numbers were more significant, and their resolve was more robust, demonstrating the potential impact of collective action. The conservative government, facing unprecedented pressure, began to falter.
Senator Reid watched as the country he had tried to reshape slipped from his grasp. He had underestimated the people’s power and ability to unite and fight for their rights. As the conservative movement began to crumble, a new era of political awakening dawned.
Emma stood on the capitol’s steps, her camera in hand, capturing the momentous events unfolding before her. She knew the battle was far from over, but she felt a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long while. The changing times had tested the nation’s spirit, but in the end, its people’s resilience and determination prevailed.
It was the end of October, and the nation seemed to be in a state of distraction, unaware of the critical choice before them. Two men were vying for the highest office in the land, each bringing with him a starkly different vision for the future. The contrast between their characters and intentions was as clear as day, yet the people’s attention was elsewhere. The urgency of the situation was palpable, but the people were yet to realize the gravity of their decision.
The first candidate was an elder statesman, a man whose career in public service spanned decades. He had held nearly every elected position imaginable, from local government to the halls of Congress. His dedication to the country was unwavering, a testament to his deep-seated patriotism. His life’s work, a reflection of his commitment to protecting the essence of the country he loved, was a beacon of trust and reliability for the nation.
In stark contrast stood the second candidate, a man whose motives were as transparent as they were troubling. Self-serving and careless, he made no secret of his intentions. He openly declared that, if elected, he would rule with an iron fist, punishing his enemies and consolidating power from day one. His rhetoric was filled with hate, yet the people, weary of the same old political games, dismissed his threats as mere bluster. This transparency, however, should have been a warning sign, a call for vigilance in the face of such extremism.
The campaign’s intensity grew as the days turned into weeks, yet the nation’s focus remained elsewhere. Perhaps it was the fatigue of constant political turmoil or the distractions of everyday life, but the electorate seemed indifferent, almost numb. They laughed off the second candidate’s tirades, convinced that such extremism could never take root in their democracy.
Election day arrived, and with it, a shocking outcome. The self-serving, hateful man had won. The people who had laughed at his threats now watched in stunned silence as he took the oath of office. His promises of dictatorship were not idle threats; they were his blueprint for governance, a reality that had suddenly come to pass. This was not just the result of one man’s ambition, but a collective decision made by the electorate.
From the very first day, the new President began to reshape the government to suit his whims. He targeted his opponents with a vengeance, using the full power of his office to silence dissent. Civil liberties and democratic institutions were eroded and undermined. The press, once the people’s watchdog, was muzzled. The judiciary, a bulwark against tyranny, was co-opted. His actions, such as [specific actions], tightened his authoritarian grip and spread fear like wildfire.
The oldest-ever President, now retired, watched in horror as the nation he had served so faithfully became dismantled piece by piece. His warnings had gone unheeded, his life’s work seemingly undone in months. Once so dismissive of the threat, the people found themselves powerless to stop the descent into chaos. The retired President, too, felt the weight of his powerlessness, a stark contrast to his years of service and influence.
It was the end of the nation, an Ending which the country could have avoided.nation. An Ending that could have been avoided.
Before the presidential debates on Thursday, posts from supporters of President Biden are getting noticed. President Biden is getting noticed for his comment on the second anniversary of the revocation of ROE vs. Wade, a process that he says is caused by Donald Donald Trump.
BREAKING: Lady Gaga just delivered one of the most powerful rebukes of Donald Trump this year. It’s safe to say that Lady Gaga will be supporting President Biden. Retweet so all Americans see this. pic.twitter.com/JbUip7jNNn
There Is A Giant Difference Between The Two. When You Vote – It Is For Freedom!
Former President Donald Trump was widely mocked after claiming to a crowd of supporters that he has “wounds all over my body” that they could see if he took his shirt off.
Trump delivered the keynote address at the “Road to Majority” conference in Washington, D.C., organized by the conservative Christian political advocacy group, Faith and Freedom Coalition, on Saturday.
For example, Presidents Abraham Lincoln, James Garfield, William McKinley, and John F. Kennedy were assassinated while still in office.
Notably, Ronald Reagan was the victim of an attempted assassination in 1981 when a bullet fired by John Hinckley Jr. shot him in the underarm, broke one of his ribs, and punctured one of his lungs, causing significant internal bleeding. Reagan went on to serve two terms in office.
In one of the more oddball moments in American history, Andrew Jackson in 1835 was attacked by an unemployed house painter whose pistols misfired—and promptly beat his failed assassin with his walking cane.
And it is perhaps darkly comic that Theodore Roosevelt survived a 1912 assassination attempt after the assassin’s bullet became lodged in a folded copy of a speech Roosevelt was carrying in his breast pocket at the time.
By contrast, Trump has never been in a similar position. Nor has he ever served in combat or sustained any wounds whatsoever considering he infamously dodged the Vietnam War draft by claiming he had bone spurs in his foot (a fact he has periodically downplayed).
Mudslinging, once the most reprehensible act a political contestant could commit, was a behavior that branded the perpetrator as untrustworthy, someone respectable voters would never support. These were the days when community bonds were robust. Neighbors were familiar faces, and the widow down the street was always checked on. People went out of their way to support a friend’s business, driven by loyalty and the value of relationships.
Courtesy was not just a virtue, it was a way of life. You didn’t honk at the car ahead for hesitating at a stop sign, and everyone, regardless of race, was treated with respect. You honored their facilities at sporting events in neighboring towns, expecting the same respect in return during your homecoming games. These were the values that held our society together, and their erosion is a cause for concern.
Winning an election was once a sign of trust in the democratic process. It meant the elected individual would represent the community, county, state, or nation for their term. There was no need for your parents to rally the neighbors, seeking to punish those who voted differently or to overturn the results. They trusted the process and the enduring truth. However, today, this trust has seemingly eroded, and the need for reflection and change in our political and social interactions is more pressing than ever.
Today, it seems that the aim is not just to win, but to annihilate the opponent’s life and reputation.
The city of Riverton never slept, nor did Detectives Jake Harris and Sam O’Reilly. Partners for over a decade roamed the nocturnal streets with the kind of synergy only best friends could muster. Their squad car, an unremarkable blue-and-white cruiser, was a beacon of hope for some and a symbol of fear for others.
Jake, with his gruff exterior and piercing blue eyes, was the kind of cop who could read a crime scene like a book. Sam, a lean figure with a quick wit and a knack for defusing tense situations, complemented Jake perfectly. Together, they led the department in felony arrests, arriving at calls faster than anyone else and building relationships with the community that others could only dream of.
One brisk autumn night, their radio crackled to life with a call that made their hearts race: an armed robbery in progress at the 24-hour diner on 5th and Maple. Without a word, Jake hit the lights and sirens, and they sped through the dimly lit streets. They arrived in just under three minutes, a record even for them.
The diner was eerily quiet as they approached, save for the distant hum of neon lights. Inside, a masked man brandished a gun, demanding cash from the terrified cashier. Jake motioned for Sam to flank the back entrance while he took the front.
Jake entered slowly, his voice calm but authoritative. ––––
“Riverton PD, drop the weapon and come out with your hands up.”
The gunman whipped around, eyes wide with panic.
“Stay back! I’ll shoot!”
From the rear, Sam’s voice cut through the tension.
“No, you won’t. You don’t want to hurt anyone. Put the gun down, and we can talk.”
The gunman’s grip on the weapon faltered. In that split second, Jake lunged forward, disarming him with a swift, practiced motion. Sam was at his side instantly, cuffing the man and guiding him to the squad car.
As they processed the scene, the cashier, a young woman named Maria, approached them with tears in her eyes.
“Thank you. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come.”
Jake gave her a reassuring nod. “Just doing our job, ma’am.”
The rest of the night was a blur of paperwork and patrols. But their most memorable interaction came just before dawn. While cruising through a quieter part of town, they spotted a boy sitting alone on a bench, clutching a backpack to his chest. They pulled over, and Sam approached him gently.
“Hey there, buddy. Everything alright?”
The boy, who couldn’t have been more than ten, looked up with tear-streaked cheeks.
“I ran away from home. My parents are always fighting.”
Sam sat next to him, listening with the patience of a father and says –––
“I get it, kid. Sometimes, home can be tough. But running away won’t solve anything. Let’s get you back home and see if we can help sort things out.”
Jake contacted the boy’s parents while Sam spoke with him. The sun was peeking over the horizon when they returned the boy home. Now more worried than angry, the parents hugged their son tightly and thanked the officers.
As they drove back to the station, Jake glanced over at Sam, sighs then says –––
“Another night, another set of stories, huh?”
Sam chuckled. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
In Riverton, one could become a legend in the shadows, and for Jake and Sam, every night was another chance to protect and serve, forging connections and fighting crime in ways that others could only admire.
Earl’s Service Station was well known in town. It had to be. It was on the corner of Broadway and Main, downtown. Everybody in the city went to get their cars serviced, and the gasoline tank filled up there; they had to; it was the only gas station in the small town. Working in a gas station, Earl or his son Skip would wash the windows of cars while they were filling up. They would still be trying to scrub the bugs off the windshield on warm summer nights, long after the gas had clicked off.
Cars that didn’t need gas would pull in, and without being asked, he would get out to work on their windshield cleaning with squeegees and sponges. It was on the house because Earl had a “full service” operation. When you bought gasoline there, anytime you stopped in, you got service. Everyone knew that you didn’t have to purchase gasoline for the service. Earl provided the work because that was the reputation of his business.
It was the 1960s, and business ran steadily through the 1970s. However, as the 1980s crept in, a truckstop up the road near the big highway had put in giant tanks that held truckloads of fuel and could undersell Earl. It was self-serve, and the drivers had to clean their windshields. They’d have to check their oil and steering fluid, but now, all that didn’t matter.
Earl still had enough local customers and monthly charge accounts to keep his business open; repairing flat tires and selling accessories like windshield wipers, fluid, and antifreeze would keep him afloat. And it did through to the time he retired and handed the business over to his son Skip, who had been working in his father’s station since he was out of high school.
Skip noticed changes over the years, something more than people going to the big station up the road; the cars coming into the service station didn’t have bugs on the windshield. He had watched a television program a month or two earlier and remembered hearing about the windshield phenomenon.
It had a more scientific explanation, but Skip explained it to a group of local coffee drinkers as locals began noticing changes in their community due to the unnecessary killing of insects using insecticides that are too potent for their intended uses. The next phase would change the growth of trees in the region, which could harbor diseases that would wipe out other natural grasses and trees known to the area.
The coffee drinkers howled insults at Skip –––
Skip, you are the gasoline island science professor.
Another said,
Yeah, just like the professor on Giggi’s Island or whatever they named that old show.
The coffee drinkers had a good laugh on Skip’s behalf and left it at that. Skip went on about his business, knowing he was on to something. A few days passed, and an agent from the county’s local university agriculture extension program came into the service station for refueling. Skip introduced himself and said ––
Hey, do you have anything to do with bugs where you work?
The agent said –––
I do. I am responsible for a survey we do every Spring, Summer, Fall, and Winter. We have traps about twenty-five miles outside town and collect and count insects. See their type, how many, where they came from, and if they are locals or travelers. Why do you ask?
Skip replied –––
Windshields. There are hardly any bugs on windshields these days. When I was growing up, it took forever to scrub them off; now, there are hardly any.
The Agent replied –––
It is because of insecticides. The bugs are getting killed off in masses, and they are not coming back. When they do, it kills everything down the line and up the line. It just goes on and on!
The agent’s words hit Skip like a ton of bricks. The number of insects was plummeting drastically, and it was a catastrophe in the making. Without insects, entire food chains would collapse. No crops would get pollinated, leading to a scarcity of food for birds, amphibians, reptiles, and even us. The ripple effect was clear-as the frogs die off, the animals that feed on them would also perish, leading to a devastating impact on the entire ecosystem.
Skip said,
WOW! Such a chain of events is indeed a catastrophe; no one knows about it because all attention is focused on global warming.
The agent told Skip,
Well, only some of the attention. We are trying to educate farmers and homeowners living in rural areas about how to use insecticides and pleading with people not to kill off bee colonies. Plus, quit killing insects. We need them, ants and all, to survive. Remember, the insects will die off with global warming affecting them too; they can’t live where their habitat is changing and are no longer welcoming to their living conditions. It isn’t just the insecticides that we are dealing with. Some areas are turning into deserts; others are seeing floods, and others are experiencing storms like never before. These extreme weather events are all linked to global warming, which is also contributing to the decline of insects.
Skip told the agent that he had tried explaining the issue to his buddies at the coffee shop; however, they didn’t think he knew what he was talking about. The agent said you were right and good for you! I am interviewing with the local media. Tell your friends to watch for it this weekend.
On Sunday morning, Skip stopped at the local cafe for coffee with the crew. As he walked in, everyone began cheering.
“There’s the man” There’s Mr Smarts!”
It wasn’t until Skip sat down that he learned that the Agriculture Agent had referred to him in the interview as what an alert citizen was representative of; he had noticed the changes in his environment and said something.
An ‘alert citizen’ is someone who is observant and proactive in reporting changes in their environment, like Skip. Something so great caused the local agency to alert farmers to stop using all level 1 and 2 pesticides.
At least until the Extension Service looked into the lack of insects in the region. The news article then explained the importance of insects to the livelihood of all living creatures, just as the agent and Skip had talked about.
Fred and Matilda had been retired for over ten years. They had passed their silver years and were entering their golden years. Both had begun to experience forgetfulness, which was not severe but inconvenient. Fred would forget his wallet when he left home to go to town, or Matilda would forget to put extra tissues in her purse. She needed them to keep her nose wiped due to spring’s seasonal allergy season.
Today, Fred and Matilda left their modest bungalow midcentury home on East Kiowa Street in Corprol, Oklahoma. They traveled thirty miles to see the couple’s son nearby. Due to Fred’s’ safe’ driving, the drive should take just over fifty minutes. He never exceeded fifty miles an hour and usually kept their ’53 Chevrolet Coup topped at 45 miles per hour. Matilda was known for always talking to Fred when he was driving. She never shut up.
Matilda would say to him –––
“Fred, ease to the left, honey; now go back to the right and watch it. Oh no—a car is coming! Now, someone is behind us. Wait, a car is approaching us; I think the guy behind us will pass us.“
Fred and Matilda’s son, Bill, looked at the clock at 1:00 PM. His parents should have been at his place at 11:00 AM. He thought they stopped by their old farm and got lost in time, recalling days when they had lived in the farming area for more than forty years, and everyone knew them. Even so, the people from those days mainly had moved on just as they had. So, it was unusual to find a two-hour distraction without calling him to let him know they would be delayed.
Matilda, a constant verbal navigational bird, was a familiar presence to Fred. Her chatter, a constant companion during their drives, was a source of comfort to him. He had grown accustomed to her voice, finding solace in the sound. Fred’s driving was noticeably worse when she wasn’t there, a testament to her voice’s role in his life.
At 3:00 PM, Bill was beside himself. Where were Fred and Matilda? He called their home to make sure they had not decided to go back home and make the trip another day; the phone just rang and rang. He called Fred’s and Matilda’s cell phones, but no one answered. Bill decided it was time to notify authorities.
Bill called the Ninekakh Police Department, and Officer Nadine Smith answered. Nadine had a strong ‘Okie” accent and a sweet demeanor.
“Ninekakh Police Department, Officer Smith, Who can I help today?”
Bill was stunned by the sweetness and tone of Nadine’s voice and how comfortable she made him feel just by answering the call he had placed. Bill said –––
“Hi, my name is Bill Roth. My parents, Fred and Matilda Roth, are late getting to my home outside Singer; they were driving here from Corprol.”
Knowing Bill was concerned and having met the Roths several times, Nadine knew they were not the type to disappear carelessly. Nadine asked –––
“Bill, honey, how old are your parents? Do you know what they are driving, and do you have any identification to help find them? And what were they doing today?”
Bill was quick to answer –––
My parents are driving a blue 53 Chevrolet Coupe two-door in their mid-70s. They were moving from Corpral to Singer to visit me today. They might have stopped by the old farm to remember old times, but I don’t know. They have never really been this late. Fred always wears grey pants, a white shirt, and a baseball cap, and Matilda usually wears a dress, blue or gray, that extends below the knee, with flat shoes; they both have gray hair. They quit taking photographs twenty years ago because both said it made them look like they were aging to get new pictures taken. They won’t even stand still for someone to get them in a cell phone, selfie-type picture.”
Nadine, taking a deep breath, said –––
Wow! Thank you. That is a whole lot of information, but it isn’t. I will get out and look at the highway between the two towns for them and any side roads. Also, I’ll put this out on the radio for other departments to be on the lookout for. Meanwhile, I suggest you stay where you are if they arrive at your place or call you.
Bill was a nervous wreck. Thoughts raced through his mind of where they could be, what could have happened, and then who could have taken them or could they have been robbed. They could have been running off the road by another driver in a road rage incident. Bill remembered the time he got lost hiking with friends and how much worry it brought his parents. He thought to himself, ‘Payback is hell!’ Exhausted from thinking, Bill yells out loud –
“At least they knew where to start looking for me. I was out hiking, and they had a starting point. Hell, I don’t have a clue where these two old farts are!”
As Nadine was patrolling from the Ninekah Sheriff’s Department heading south toward Corprol, she saw a roadside melon and vegetable sales stand, the type set up to sell from the back of an old truck. She pulled over and talked to the farmer who was selling his goods and asked if he had seen anyone matching the description of Fred and Matilda.
“Yep, I saw them! They were two feisty people. For their age, I was surprised.
Nadine surprised that her luck had paid off, asked the farmer what he meant, and he replied –––
“Well, this young guy was here too, and he had one of those cell phones out taking pictures of him and his girlfriend; it could have been his boyfriend. I couldn’t tell by looking. Anyway, he got a picture of the two older people and told them he hoped he and his sweety could be just like them when they got to be antique. And that is when all hell broke loose. The older adults didn’t want those pictures going anywhere. The young couple took off, and the others left behind them. I never saw two older adults driving like that. They were laying rubber.
Nadine called Bill and told him what the farmer told her, and Bill, in a chilling voice, responded,
“Christ, it’s Christmas 2015 all over again. They did the same thing when someone took a photo of them in the background at a convenience store on Christmas Eve of 2015. We saw them again in February. The family of the people who took the photos still hasn’t seen their people. The last report anyone ever heard was that they were trying to outrun an old couple driving a Blue 53 Chevy Coupe.”
Officer Nadine Smith ––– Adam 851 Clear from report at 1700 hours, 15 miles south of Singer, on Highway 41, clear.
Dispatch to Smith, Affirmative, 1700 hours, KMH 253.
Officer Smith drove to Bill’s home, where she discovered a blue 53 Chevrolet Coupe appearing to stick out of an outbuilding on the property. She went to Bill’s Door and rang the bell. When he answered, she asked if his parents had been in contact. He said they had not.
Smith asked Bill to walk out and look at the car in the shed, which, to his surprise, was his parents’ vehicle.
How did they get past me? And where are they now?
Fred and Matilda, in their enthusiastic but forgetful state, had indeed managed to return home unnoticed. Bill and Officer Smith, both puzzled and concerned, carefully approached the shed where the car was parked. The vehicle, though covered, was the distinctive blue ’53 Chevrolet Coupe.
“Bill, stay behind me,”
Officer Smith instructed, her hand resting on her holster just in case.
“Let’s check inside,” Bill suggested.
Together, they slowly lifted the cover off the car, revealing it entirely. The sight brought a mix of relief and confusion to Bill’s face. The vehicle looked unscathed as if a chauffeur had driven the couple from a leisurely trip.
As they peered into the car, they noticed the keys were still in the ignition, and Matilda’s purse was on the passenger seat. But there were no signs of Fred and Matilda themselves.
“Where could they have gone?“
Bill murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
Officer Smith walked around the shed, looking for any further clues. Just then, they heard a faint, familiar sound coming from the back of the house. Following the noise, they discovered Fred and Matilda sitting on a swing in the backyard, calmly chatting and sipping on lemonade.
“Dad! Mom! What on earth happened?”
Bill exclaimed, running towards them.
Fred looked up, somewhat surprised but pleased to see his son.
“Oh, Bill, there you are! We were wondering when you’d find us.”
With a serene smile, Matilda added,
“We decided to take a little detour to the old farm, but then we thought we’d better come back home when it started getting late. We didn’t want to worry you.”
Torn between relief and frustration, Bill tried to keep his voice steady.
“Why didn’t you call me? We’ve been worried sick!”
Fred scratched his head, looking a bit sheepish.
“Well, son, we did mean to call you, but then Matilda realized she left her phone at home, and mine ran out of battery. By the time we returned, we were so tired we just sat down for a rest.”
Upon witnessing the heartfelt reunion, Officer Smith felt a wave of relief wash over her.
“Mr. and Mrs. Roth, it’s good to see you’re both safe. You gave us quite a scare.”
Ever the apologetic, Matilda said,
“We’re sorry, dear. We didn’t mean to cause any trouble. We’ll be more careful next time.”
Fred nodded in agreement.
“Yes, we’ll charge the phone next time and keep it with us.”
Bill sighed deeply, his worry slowly dissipating.
“Just glad you’re both okay. Next time, please, let’s avoid any more detours.”
Fred chuckled. “Deal. How about we all go inside and have some of Matilda’s famous apple pie? It’s been a long day.”
As they walked back into the house, Bill couldn’t help but feel grateful for the small blessings—his parents were safe, and despite their forgetfulness, they still had their spirited sense of adventure. It was another reminder of how precious these moments were, even when they came with a bit of worry.
Harrison, a young boy with a mop of unruly hair, was not yet old enough to attend the local school with his siblings. For that, he was delighted. The thought of shuffling off to a gloomy classroom with many kids making noise and a teacher telling him what to do was a nightmare. He’d rather be where he was, in his dad’s bustling barber shop, sitting high on the shoeshine chair overlooking the men sitting and waiting for a haircut. His dad, a tall and burly man with a booming voice, had three barber chairs, but he was the lone barber in the shop and wanted to keep it that way. The two extra chairs were great for the overflow customers who missed their chance to sit in one of the chairs against the wall. Harrison, always curious, wanted to ask the group if they were getting haircuts for a Sunday funeral, which usually draws such a crowd to his dad’s shop. But he didn’t dare ask such a question, knowing his father would object.
An older gentleman sitting in one of the chairs waiting for his turn in the barber’s chair spoke up –––
“There’s a grand parade coming down Main Street this afternoon, right in front of your shop, Harrison. The Governor and a Star Baseball Player from the Yankees are expected to ride in the banker’s convertible Cadillac. It’s going to be quite a spectacle,”
the man in the chair shared, his voice filled with anticipation.
Only Harrison’s dad remarked,
“I guess they’ll have to do it without my help; I have hair to cut.”
His dad’s voice was dry, and his humor was just as much, and the tone in which he laid out the line caused those waiting for a haircut to laugh. He pulled the towel from around the neck of the main sitting in his chair, removed the barber cape covering him, shook it out, and said –––
That’ll be a buck! Next!
Harrison watched as the man in the chair, a middle-aged man with a kind smile and a twinkle in his eye, smiled and handed his dad a crisp dollar bill. They exchanged pleasantries, their voices filled with warmth and familiarity, before the man stepped down from the chair, revealing a fresh, neatly trimmed haircut. As the man left the shop, the doorbell jingled behind him, the sound echoing in the empty space.
The following customer shuffled forward, settling into the vacated barber chair. He was a tall, lanky man with a worn-out cowboy hat perched atop his head, his face weathered and etched with lines of a life spent outdoors. Harrison recognized him as Mr. Jenkins, the ranch owner just outside town, a man known for his quiet wisdom and his love for his horses.
“Hey there, Mr. Jenkins,”
Harrison’s dad greeted warmly, draping the striped barber cape around his shoulders.
“What’ll it be today?”
Mr. Jenkins leaned back in the chair, adjusting his hat slightly.
“Well, I reckon I need a trim for the Missus’s birthday dinner tonight. Can’t be looking like a tumbleweed on such an occasion,”
He chuckled.
Harrison grinned from his perch on the shoeshine chair, enjoying the banter between his dad and Mr. Jenkins. As his dad began clipping away at Mr. Jenkins’ hair, the old rancher glanced over at Harrison with a twinkle in his eye.
“You excited about that parade, son?”
he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
Harrison nodded eagerly.
“Sure am, Mr. Jenkins! I heard the Governor and a Yankees player will be there.”
Mr. Jenkins chuckled, nodding in agreement.
“Yep, quite the spectacle, I reckon. But you know what they say, Harrison, sometimes the best show in town ain’t the one with the fanciest floats. There’s more to this parade than meets the eye,”
Mr. Jenkins said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mystery. His words hung in the air, leaving Harrison with a sense of intrigue and a thousand questions.
Harrison furrowed his brow, intrigued by Mr. Jenkins’ cryptic comment. Before he could inquire further, his dad finished the haircut, removing the barber cape with a flourish.
“All set, Mr. Jenkins. That’ll be a buck,”
He said with a grin.
Mr. Jenkins handed over the payment with a tip, tipping his hat to Harrison and his dad before heading out the door confidently.
Harrison’s dad turned to him with a smile.
“Well, son, it’s your turn to shine. How about you polish those shoes while I tidy up here?”
Harrison’s heart raced with excitement as he reached for the Polish brush, his mind buzzing with anticipation for the parade and Mr. Jenkins’s mysterious words. He couldn’t help but wonder what the old rancher meant. Was there something more to this parade than just a grand spectacle? Little did he know, this ordinary day in the barbershop would soon become an extraordinary adventure he would never forget.
After Mr. Jenkins left the barber shop, Harrison’s dad glanced at the clock on the wall and realized it was almost time for the parade. With a quick sweep of the broom, he tidied up the shop and then turned to Harrison with a grin.
“Looks like we’ve got a front-row seat, son. Let’s go see what all the fuss is about,”
He said, grabbing his coat from the hook by the door.
Excitedly, Harrison followed his dad outside, his steps quick and light. He joined the growing crowd lining Main Street, his eyes scanning the area for the best view of the parade route. The air was charged with anticipation as people jostled for the best view of the parade route. Harrison’s heart raced with excitement as he tried to catch a glimpse of the Governor and the Yankees player, his eyes darting from one end of the street to the other.
Harrison’s eyes widened with wonder as the first drumbeats echoed in the distance, signaling the parade’s approach. The air was filled with the scent of freshly popped popcorn and cotton candy, and the sound of children’s laughter mingled with the lively tunes played by the marching bands. Colorful floats adorned with balloons and streamers rolled by in a kaleidoscope of colors. Marching bands played lively tunes, their music filling the air. Costumed performers danced along the street, their movements a blur of energy and excitement.
But amidst the fanfare, Harrison noticed something unusual. At the back of the parade, a group of riders on horseback trotted along, their faces obscured by bandanas, their horses sleek and powerful. They were followed by a wagon covered in a tarp, pulled by a team of sturdy horses. The air around them seemed to crackle with an energy different from the rest of the parade, a sense of mystery and intrigue. Harrison couldn’t help but wonder who they were and what they were doing in the parade.
Curiosity piqued, Harrison tugged on his dad’s sleeve.
Unable to suppress his curiosity, Harrison tugged on his dad’s sleeve, his eyes fixed on the enigmatic riders. His voice was filled with a mix of excitement and intrigue as he asked his dad about them.
He asked, pointing to the mysterious riders.
His dad frowned, scanning the procession.
“I’m not sure, son. They don’t look like part of the official parade.”
Just as the parade climaxed, a sudden turn of events caught Harrison’s attention. A wagon, covered in a mysterious tarp, veered off the parade route, rumbling down a side street.
Instinctively, Harrison’s dad grabbed his hand, his expression grave.
With a sense of foreboding, Harrison’s dad grabbed his hand, his expression grave.
“Stay close, Harrison. Something doesn’t seem right here,”
he said, his voice filled with concern.
With a sense of foreboding, Harrison and his dad followed the wagon, their footsteps echoing through the side streets and alleyways. The sound of the parade grew fainter with each turn, replaced by the distant hum of the town. Eventually, they emerged into a deserted square on the outskirts of town, where the wagon had come to a stop.
As they approached cautiously, they heard muffled voices and metal clinking. Peering around a corner, Harrison’s heart raced as he witnessed a group of masked figures unloading crates from the wagon, their faces twisted in sinister determination.
Harrison realized that the mysterious riders were thieves and were about to commit a robbery right under the town’s nose.
Harrison’s dad pulled him back into the shadows without hesitation, his eyes darting urgently.
“We need to get help, son. Stay here and stay quiet. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Harrison’s mind raced with fear and adrenaline as his dad sprinted into the night. Alone in the darkness, he knew he was the only one who could stop the thieves and save his town from disaster.
Summoning his courage, Harrison crept closer to the scene, his heart pounding. Little did he know, this chance encounter at his dad’s barbershop would thrust him into the heart of an adventure filled with danger, bravery, and the true meaning of heroism.
As Harrison watched the thieves unload their crates in the deserted square, he knew he had to act fast. With a steely resolve, he devised a plan to thwart the robbery and protect his town.
Silently, Harrison slipped through the shadows, keeping his movements as quiet as possible. Drawing upon the skills he had learned from listening to his dad’s stories of bravery and courage, he maneuvered closer to the thieves, carefully avoiding detection.
Harrison quickly glanced around the square and spotted a stack of crates nearby. Acting swiftly, he grabbed a handful of pebbles from the ground and began to hurl them toward the crates, creating a diversion.
The thieves, startled by the sudden noise, turned towards the sound, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons. Seizing the opportunity, Harrison sprang into action, darting towards the wagon with lightning speed.
With a burst of adrenaline, Harrison leaped onto the back of the wagon, his heart pounding in his chest. Ignoring the shouts of the thieves behind him, he frantically searched for something to use as a weapon.
His eyes fell upon a coil of rope lying in the corner of the wagon. Without hesitation, Harrison grabbed the rope and began to lash out at the thieves, swinging it with all his might.
Caught off guard by Harrison’s unexpected attack, the thieves stumbled backward, their faces contorted with shock and surprise. Sensing their momentary confusion, Harrison seized the opportunity to disarm them, knocking their weapons out of their hands with well-aimed blows.
As the tide of the battle turned in his favor, Harrison felt a surge of triumph and adrenaline coursing through his veins. With a determined resolve, he fought with all his strength, refusing to back down in the face of danger.
In the end, it was Harrison’s bravery and quick thinking that saved the day. With the help of his dad and the townspeople, he apprehended the thieves and prevented the robbery from taking place.
As he stood victorious in the square, surrounded by cheers and applause from the grateful townsfolk, Harrison knew that he had discovered the true meaning of heroism. And though his adventure had been filled with danger and peril, it had also taught him the importance of courage, resilience, and the power of standing up for what is right.
George was a happy-go-lucky sort of kid. His father raised quarter horses, and together, they were buddies. They go nearly everywhere together. George and his father’s friend Maynord, an older gentleman, probably a few years older than George’s father, spoiled George, treating him especially grandly. George didn’t emphasize the letter ‘s’ in some of his words, and some words he would say might need to be clarified. His father was known as a horseman and stern man, yet respected by most people, eyebrows raised to the bible-toting folks.
Maynord had a grown daughter who had already left home, but he and his wife had never had a son. With George, Maynord had the time of his life. As did George. The two were better buddies than Maynord, and George’s father became. But George would never say that to his father. Maynord treated George to parades, cheeseburgers, and ice cream cones and even got him a dog. George named the pooch, Ryder after Maynord’s last name.
The two looked forward to Friday and Saturday nights. That is when George’s dad would take George and Maynord to auction barns in nearby cities where horses were sold. There, they would watch the many horses come through the sale ring, and the owners talk them up, saying how great of an animal the horse is, and try to sell it for top dollar. Of course, George’s father had always arrived before the auction to watch the horses lead in so he could see how they handled it and whether they were challenging to work with in getting to holding pens. He could also see if any auction workers tried to ride the horses before entering the sale ring and if the horses handled well. There were always little mishaps in the sale ring, a rider losing his grip and falling off, or a horse doing what the owner said it would not do. Or donkeys would be brought in, which always made George and Maynord laugh. They would jokingly suggest George’s father buy several to go with his quarter horses. The biggest thrill of the sales barn adventures was the cafe located within; that is where, halfway through, George and Maynord would slip away and eat cheeseburgers and drink soda pop.
The horse sales, as George and his father referred to them, caused the problem. Maynord didn’t help with the situation because he referred to the auctions as horse sales. And he had never referred to the auctioning of horses as anything else.
It was in the classroom one Monday morning when the third-grade teacher asked the class for each student to stand and say what the most fun activity they took part in over the weekend was. The town had just had a fair, and the teacher expected the students to explain their actions while visiting the celebration. And that is what the students did until coming to George.
George stood and said –––
“My dad and our friend Maynord took me to the city horse sale, and my dad bought two.
While George was speaking about horses, the teacher heard ‘whore sale.’
The teacher said –––
“George, you went where, and your dad what?”
George replied –––
“My dad took me to a horse sale and bought two. His friend Maynord helped with one of them. They made me watch from the pickup.”
The teacher, turning pale, said –
“George, stop talking; that is enough! Class, that is enough of what we enjoyed this weekend. I will have George explain what he did to the principal.”
George was perplexed. Hasn’t anyone ever watched a horse being sold and loaded into a livestock trailer? Why would the principal need to hear about it? Indeed, he knows about people selling horses.
In the office, the principal was being informed by the teacher about what she had heard and how terrible it was that this father and his friend had taken an 8-year-old boy to whore house and had him watch the goings on with two women. The principal then asked George what exactly did you say to your teacher?
Which George explained –––
“I just told her ––– My dad, Maynord, and I went to a horse sale, where my dad bought two horses. They made me get in the pickup and watch them while loading the horses so I wouldn’t get hurt or in the way. There have been days, I have even held on to some guys horse when he had too many to handle. But I didn’t get to explain it in such detail because the teacher told me to stop talking before I could tell more about what I was talking about. We go to horse sales every weekend. I don’t know what the big deal is!”
The principal and now the school’s superintendent were both in the office. Their faces were beet red, and they were trying to keep from laughing. The teacher, now understanding the situation, felt overreactive and apologizing.
Meanwhile, George is confused and asks everyone in the room –––
“Haven’t you all ever heard of horse sales? Horse sales? Horse Sales! A Place where a man can sell his horse? My dad, Maynord and I go to them every Friday and Saturday night, you should come with us and see what it is all about. If you get bored with the horse sale, you can get a cheeseburger, as I sometimes do. I don’t understand what this is all about just because I told my story about going to the horse sale with my dad and Maynord.”
George’s dad, the town barber, was called and told of the situation. He later held court in his barber’s chair with his shop’s regulars. There, they had the bursts of laughter the school officials experienced.
Leaving the office, it was the loudest laughter George can ever remember hearing to this date. It wasn’t until he was older did he understand the rhyming of the words between horse and whores and how it could sound to others when saying to them –––
“You are headed to a horse sale to see what you can find.”
Kick off Pride month with a 5-day festival celebrating our community’s legacy and exciting contemporary stories Showcasing film premieres, filmmaker Q&A’s, and social events May 30 – June 3, 2024
NewFest Pride has it all — premieres of the year’s most anticipated queer films, conversations, parties and outdoor screenings! Check out the full lineup below.
Get A Pass
Membership Plus Members + above get free Virtual Passes.
A HOUSE IS NOT A DISCO (Opening Night Film & Party)
Dir. Brian J. Smith
A compelling, lovingly-captured portrait of Fire Island as queer paradise that sees past and present blur within the iconic beach town as it celebrates its collective legacy and redefines itself for a modern era.
Ticket includes entrance to Opening Night Party at Slate.
MY OLD ASS
Dir. Megan Park
In this fresh coming-of-age story, an 18th birthday mushroom trip brings free-spirited Elliott (Maisy Stella) face-to-face with her wisecracking 39-year-old self (Aubrey Plaza).
HAZE
Dir. Matthew Fifer
A young journalist returns home to investigate the unsolved deaths at an abandoned psychiatric center in this eerie, evocative psychological thriller from writer/director Matthew Fifer (CICADA)
CLOSE TO YOU
Dir. Dominic Savage
Producer and co-writer Elliot Page stars in this emotionally observant drama about returning home as yourself and finding hope in potentially rekindled relationships
FANTASMAS (Episodes 1 & 2)
Dir. Julio Torres
A delightfully wry new series from the imagination of creator, star, writer, and director Julio Torres (LOS ESPOOKYS, PROBLEMISTA)
THE QUEEN OF MY DREAMS
Dir. Fawzia Mirza
Grad student Azra feels worlds apart from her seemingly rigid mother yet uncovers their unexpected connections on a trip to Pakistan in this vibrant festival favorite (TIFF, SXSW) from writer/director Fawzia Mirza. Ticket comes with entrance to Women’s Afternoon Out pre-screening reception
SEBASTIAN
Dir. Mikko Mäkelä
A freelance writer and aspiring novelist on his way to ostensible success in London’s cultural spheres finds a different kind of exhilaration as a sex worker in this Sundance sensation.
AM I OK?
Dirs. Tig Notaro & Stephanie Allynne
Dakota Johnson stars in this uplifting comedy from co-directors Tig Notaro & Stephanie Allynne about self-discovery, life changes, and friendship.
BLACK QUEER PRIDE SHORTS WITH VIMEO
Join NewFest & Vimeo for a celebratory short film showcase by and about Black LGBTQ+ lives, joys, and experiences.
COMING AROUND
Dir. Sandra Itäinen
A young queer woman stands at a crossroads with her devout Muslim mother in a clash between identity and tradition.
THE SUMMER WITH CARMEN
Dir. Zacharias Mavroeidis
While enjoying a day at a clothing-optional queer beach, an aspiring filmmaker and their handsome friend collaborate on a screenplay in this whimsical summer treat.
WE’RE HERE (Season 4 Finale)
Dir. Peter LoGreco
Join NewFest and HBO for an advance screening of the Season Four finale, followed by an exclusive virtual conversation with creators and cast.
TRIXIE MOTEL: DRAG ME HOME (Series Premiere)
Tune in for an advance screening + exclusive virtual Q&A as Trixie and her partner David explore and design a dream home fit for two!
TO WONG FOO, THANKS FOR EVERYTHING! JULIE NEWMAR (Outdoor Screening)
Kick off NewFest’s new partnership with Universal Pictures – “Pride Summer Movie Nights at Rockefeller Center”
IN-PERSON + STREAMING VIP All Access Pass — $185 Discount for NewFest Members All in-person screenings and events (including Opening Night Film & Party, and Women’s Afternoon Out) and virtual screenings. Early access to theater and reserved seats. Learn how to fulfill passes here.
IN–PERSON Individual Film Ticket – $19.50 Discount for NewFest Members In-Person access to a single screening. Does not include A HOUSE IS NOT A DISCO or Women’s Afternoon Out Tickets.
Opening Night Film + Party Ticket – $50 Discount for NewFest Members In-Person access to the Opening Night Film A HOUSE IS NOT A DISCO and the following party.
In-Person All Access Pass — $115 Discount for NewFest Members Includes all in-person screenings, including Opening Night Film & Party, and Women’s Afternoon Out. Learn how to fulfill passes here.
STREAMING Virtual Pass — $30 Discount for NewFest Members Virtual access to select screenings. Does not include in-person Q&A’s, however there are a select number of virtual Q&A’s available. All films screening virtually are available May 30 at 12 PM EST through June 3 at 11:59 PM EST. Streaming anywhere in the United States. Individual tickets are only available for WE’RE HERE and TRIXIE MOTEL: DRAG ME HOME.
Not too long ago, in the quaint town of Willowbrook, there were three inseparable friends: Alex, Maya, and Jake. They worked at the same bustling marketing firm, where Mondays were universally dreaded. However, these three had a secret pact to evade the Monday blues.
On Monday morning, as the sun peeked through the curtains, Alex, the creative genius of the trio, concocted a plan over breakfast. “Guys, I’ve got it! Let’s go on a spontaneous road trip!” Alex exclaimed, a mischievous glint in their eyes.
Maya, the adventurous spirit, beamed with liberation. “Yes! Let’s break free from the chains of mundane Mondays and create unforgettable memories instead!”
“Guys, I’ve got it! Let’s go on a spontaneous road trip!”
Jake, the pragmatic one, hesitated momentarily before a smile spread across his face. “Alright, but let’s make it epic.”
With that, they hastily packed their bags, loaded the car, and set off on an impromptu adventure. They drove through winding country roads, the sun’s golden rays filtering through the lush green trees, belting out their favorite tunes, stopping only for roadside attractions and delectable diners.
As they reached the picturesque town of Willow Grove, they stumbled upon a quaint bed and breakfast nestled amidst rolling hills. The owner, an eccentric but kind-hearted elderly lady named Mrs. Maple, welcomed them with open arms. “You must be tired from your journey,” she said, her eyes twinkling with warmth. “Come in, I’ve prepared some fresh lemonade.”
“We’re on the run from Mondays,” Maya confessed with a wink, and Mrs. Maple chuckled knowingly. “Well then, you’ve come to the right place, my dears. Here, every day feels like a Sunday.”
Their days were filled with laughter, exploration, and newfound friendships. They hiked through lush forests, discovering hidden waterfalls and secret clearings. They picnicked by sparkling streams, the sound of the water providing a soothing backdrop to their conversations. And they shared stories under the starry night sky, the twinkling lights above mirroring the joy in their hearts.
Meanwhile, back at the office, their absence raised eyebrows, but their colleagues couldn’t help but envy their spontaneous escapade. As they stepped back into the familiar hustle and bustle, a mix of nostalgia and determination filled their hearts. They were ready to face the challenges of the week, armed with the memories of their adventure and the strength of their friendship.
As the sun dipped below the horizon on Friday evening, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Alex, Maya, and Jake reluctantly bid farewell to Willow Grove. With hearts full of memories and souls rejuvenated, they returned home just in time for the weekend.
And though Monday morning loomed on the horizon, they faced it with a newfound resilience, bolstered by the strength of their friendship. They knew that with friendship and adventure, they could conquer anything—even the dreaded Mondays.
Fire Station 12 stood proudly in the heart of the bustling city, a symbol of protection and service. Named in honor of the fusion of Fire Stations 1 and 2, it held a legacy of bravery and dedication within its walls. At its helm was Hank, the seasoned veteran who had witnessed the evolution of firefighting firsthand.
Hank’s connection to the station ran deep, rooted in the early days when he and the Little Red Fire Truck epitomized heroism. Together, they had faced the fiercest blazes and emerged victorious, earning the community’s admiration. But as time passed, the dynamics shifted, and modernization took hold.
The Little Red Fire Truck, once a beacon of hope, now stood relegated to parades and backup duty. Hank, too, found himself on the sidelines more often, overshadowed by the younger firefighters and their state-of-the-art equipment. Yet, his dedication to the station never wavered.
Fate intervened on a warm afternoon when grass fires raged, and the station buzzed with activity. A desperate call for help echoed through the halls, signaling a mother and child trapped in a burning home. Hank knew he had to act swiftly with the other firefighters tied up on distant calls.
Without hesitation, he usurped the Little Red Fire Truck, a solitary figure against the backdrop of chaos. Ignoring protocol, he raced through the streets, the vintage engine roaring with renewed purpose. Upon Hank’s arrival at the scene, flames licked at the sky, and a crowd gathered, helpless.
Undeterred, Hank sprang into action, orchestrating a daring rescue. With precision born of experience, he deployed the aging truck’s capabilities, tapping into its reservoir of courage and resilience. Hank ventured into the inferno as the flames danced menacingly, emerging triumphant with the mother and child in tow.
The neighborhood erupted in cheers, and the world took notice, captivated by the spectacle of one man and his faithful companion defying the odds. Unbeknownst to Hank, his courage had transcended local acclaim, sparking a global wave of admiration.
But amidst the accolades, Hank remained grounded, his focus unwavering. As he extinguished the last embers of the blaze, a familiar figure approached – the Fire Chief, a mix of pride and relief etched on his face.
In a candid moment, the Chief revealed the bureaucratic hurdles that had hindered the station’s effectiveness, expressing a wish for more like Hank and his beloved Little Red Fire Truck. Yet, Hank, ever humble, pondered the Chief’s words, grappling with the shifting landscape of firefighting.
In the quiet moments that followed, as Hank bid farewell to another day of service, he found solace in the familiar embrace of the Little Red Fire Truck. With a promise to uphold its legacy, he embarked on the journey home, the echoes of the day’s heroics lingering in his heart.
For Hank, retirement loomed on the horizon, a bittersweet inevitability. But as long as the Little Red Fire Truck stood by his side, he knew their legacy would endure, a testament to the timeless virtues of courage, camaraderie, and unwavering resolve.
When a child gets lost in the forest a mother’s wisdom saves the day!
Once upon a time, in a small town located far away from the big cities between rolling hills and lush forests, there lived a young child named Alex. With their adventurous spirit, Alex was always eager to explore the world around them. But one sunny day, their curiosity led them into a problematic situation.
Alex ventured into the woods near their home on a warm summer afternoon. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, and the sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting a dappled pattern on the forest floor. With a sense of excitement bubbling inside them, they wandered deeper and deeper into the dense foliage, chasing after the fluttering wings of butterflies and the rustling of unseen creatures.
As the hours passed, Alex became utterly lost in the enchanting beauty of the forest. But as the sun began to dip below the horizon, panic started to set in. They realized they had strayed too far from home and had no idea which direction to go.
Frightened and alone, Alex’s heart raced in their chest. They called for help, their voice echoing through the trees. But there was no response, just the eerie silence of the forest at dusk. Tears welled up in their eyes as they sank to the ground, feeling a mix of hopelessness and fear.
Meanwhile, in the town, Sarah’s worry had transformed into a fierce determination. When her child didn’t return home at their usual time, she didn’t hesitate. She rallied a group of neighbors and friends, her unwavering love for Alex fueling their efforts.
With flashlights and determination in their hearts, they combed through the woods, calling out Alex’s name. Hours passed with no sign of the lost child, and fear gnawed at Sarah’s heart. Her worry turned into a desperate ache, her determination fueling her every step.
Just as she was beginning to lose hope, Sarah heard a faint cry in the distance. With renewed energy, she followed the sound, pushing through the underbrush until she stumbled upon a clearing where Alex sat, trembling and exhausted.
Relief washed over Sarah like a tidal wave as she rushed to her child’s side, her heart bursting with joy. Tears of happiness streamed down her cheeks as she whispered words of comfort and love, her voice a soothing balm to Alex’s trembling form.
Wrapped in their mother’s arms, Alex felt safe and protected, knowing that no matter their adventures, their mother would always be there to guide them home. And on that fateful day, Sarah’s unwavering love and determination saved Alex’s life, proving that a mother’s love knows no bounds. In the aftermath, they both learned the importance of staying close and the strength of their bond.
In a secluded cabin, nestled far from the clamor of the town, lived a gentle old soul, known to few but revered by those who understood her quiet strength. Her days were marked by solitude, yet she celebrated holidays and cherished moments as if surrounded by a bustling family. Her resilience was legendary, a testament to the indomitable spirit that dwelled within her.
Despite her solitude, the townsfolk viewed her with a mixture of curiosity and bemusement, dismissing her as a bit eccentric but harmless nonetheless. It wasn’t until a bashful young boy crossed paths with her that her story began to unfold.
In hushed tones, she confided in the boy, recounting a past filled with love, loss, and unspoken. She spoke of a time when her life brimmed with joy, her husband and sons by her side, their laughter echoing through the valley. But the ravages of war tore her family asunder, leaving her to weather the storms of sorrow alone.
With tears glistening in her eyes, she revealed the heart-wrenching fate of each beloved member lost to the cruel whims of fate. Her husband, called to duty in the Great War, her two sons spirited away by the tempest of World War II, and finally, her youngest, whose untimely demise on a desolate road robbed her of closure.
As the boy listened, his heart heavy with empathy, he dared to pose a question that lingered unspoken in the air. What if there was another, a grandson perhaps, who carried the legacy of her lost kin?
The old lady’s incredulous gaze met his, disbelief mingling with hope in her weary eyes. And then, like a beacon in the darkness, came the revelation – the grandson, lost to her for decades, now stood before her, a living link to the family she had mourned for so long.
With trembling hands and a heart brimming with emotion, she embraced the truth that had eluded her for years. In that moment, amidst tears of joy and disbelief, the lonely cabin was transformed into a haven of love and reunion.
As the boy revealed his identity, a grandson born from the ashes of tragedy and hope, the old lady’s heart swelled with a newfound sense of belonging. For in him, she found not just a descendant, but a beacon of love and remembrance, a testament to the enduring bonds of family.
And so, on that hallowed Mother’s Day, amidst the whispers of the past and the promise of the future, the little old lady found solace in the embrace of her newfound kin, her lost loved ones forever immortalized in the cherished memories they had left behind.
She told the boy the story of the little old lady who lived in a secluded cabin far from the bustling road. Few in the town knew she had her people, for she seemed self-sufficient. She would celebrate alone on holidays and special occasions, just as if she had a house full of family. Her resilience was a sight to behold, a testament to the strength of her spirit.
The townspeople thought she was a bit looney. But she didn’t bother a soul, so they let her be. One day, a shy young boy befriended the lady, and they began to talk. The lady told the boy about a world before when she had a husband and three sons. Her husband had brought her to the valley and began a farm here; she had helped toil the soil. Soon, she gave birth to a son, then another, and by year six, there would be a third son on the farm. Their happiness halted when the Government called the husband away to fight in World War I; she said she got letters from him up until the day she didn’t.
“He got killed somewhere over there. They never told me exactly where just in France on a battlefield.
The boys took care of the farming and made a good go of it, helping take care of the livestock and bringing income in that would pay for living expenses and build savings for the family, the little old lady explained to the boy. Then, when everything was going so well again, the Government called again and took two of my boys; it was World War II. They were gung-ho to go over there, promising me they would be back and bring a wife with them. Kidding me, they were going to share the wife. Sadly, I got the news on the same day they both died. Iwo Jima, why did they send them both into there? Didn’t they know? Didn’t someone care? I guess not!”
–– the little old lady said, still wiping tears away after all this time.
The young boy wondered why she was alone and thought maybe the last son had grown up and gone away and never returned. He didn’t want to ask. But the little old lady continued talking.
“My last son, the last one I had to hold on to, was working the farm and doing well, and I thought maybe he would be what we had dreamed of making this place be. But he was driving home from town and saw a young couple who appeared to have broken down on the side of the road. They were miles away from anyone, and if he didn’t stop, they could have died out there alone, so he stopped to help. As he was giving them a hand, they shot and robbed him, taking a One Dollar bill from his wallet, one that he carried for good luck, and a buckeye that he kept in his left pocket. Then, he rolled him over in a ditch like trash and took off in both cars.”
The young boy had tears in his eyes, thinking of the little old lady’s pain. She continued her story, –––
“He never came home. I knew something was wrong. I called the sheriff, and he came out and said he didn’t come home. Days later, they found his car in another state. A man on a tractor discovered his body about a month later. They said it was his. I never got to see him. Not one of my men got a decent send-off because of the way they died. I don’t know if I deserve one, either. I have stayed here, hoping that maybe everything they told me was wrong. And maybe someday, my husband and boys would come back to me. But no one has ever shown up.”
The young man quietly asked the little old lady, ‘ What if a grandson showed up? ‘ The little old lady, stunned, asked, ‘What you say?’ The young man said, ‘What if a grandson appeared instead?’
The little old lady replied, “I’d be damned because not one of my boys had been with a woman!”
The young man told the little old lady, “Well, one of them had, and you just found out about it now! One of your boys in the war that disappeared also had just married his sweetheart way ‘over there.’ She happened to be carrying his child when he had to go to Iwo Jima and got killed. And, he was going to call and tell you that if it weren’t for that battle getting him killed, you would have known about being a grandmother more than 20 years ago. After my mother died, I found pictures and details about my dad and where he is from and tracked him to you, so I know now that you are my family.
With a tear rolling down her cheek, the little old lady quietly says –––
“Well, one of them found a way to return on Mother’s Day.”
In the quiet corners of her home, Sarah sat her mind adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions. Her mother, once vibrant and robust, now frail and in need of constant care, sat in the living room, a mere shadow of her former self. It had been a long and arduous journey, filled with sleepless nights and endless worry. But now, Sarah faced the most challenging decision of all – the decision to place her mother in a nursing home.
“Mom, I need to talk to you about something important!”
“What is it Dear” Her Mother Asked?
The idea had lingered in Sarah’s mind for months, whispered in hushed tones by concerned family members and well-meaning friends. Each time, she pushed it away, unwilling to confront the reality of the situwation. But as her mother’s needs grew more demanding, Sarah knew she could no longer ignore the inevitable.
With a heavy heart, Sarah approached her mother, her hands trembling with uncertainty. “Mom,” she began softly, “I need to talk to you about something important.”
Her mother looked up, her eyes clouded with confusion. “What is it, dear?” she asked, her voice tinged with worry.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah explained the situation as gently as possible. She spoke of the challenges they faced and the toll it was taking on them. She spoke of the nursing home – a place where her mother could receive the round-the-clock care she needed, where she would be safe and well looked after.
Her mother listened quietly, her expression unreadable. When Sarah finished, there was a long silence, broken only by the clock ticking on the wall.
Finally, her mother spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I understand, dear,” she said, her words heavy with resignation. “I know you’re doing what’s best for me.”
Tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes as she embraced her mother tightly. “I love you, Mom,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.
“I love you too, dear,” her mother replied, returning the embrace with feeble arms.
In the following days, Sarah worked tirelessly to find the perfect nursing home for her mother. She visited countless facilities, asking questions, taking notes, and carefully weighing her options. When she finally found the right one—a place that felt warm and inviting, with caring staff and a peaceful atmosphere—she knew she had made the right choice.
On the day of the move, Sarah held her mother’s hand tightly as they walked through the doors of the nursing home together. There were tears and moments of doubt, but through it all, Sarah remained steadfast in her decision.
As she watched her mother settle into her new surroundings, Sarah felt a sense of relief wash over her. It wasn’t an easy decision, nor one she had ever imagined having to make, but in the end, it was the right one – for both her and her mother.
And as she kissed her mother goodbye, promising to visit often and never forget her, Sarah knew that, even though their journey had taken an unexpected turn, they would face it together, with love and understanding guiding their way.
For all anyone knew, it was just another day. The sun was rising and appeared to be sunny, with average temperatures warming to 75 degrees by midafternoon, with a light wind from the south. That was the weather forecast everyone heard to start the day, as it echoed from speakers in the downtown square broadcasting from the local radio station KBAD. Topping the news from KBAD included a report concerning a house fire, two auto accidents, and a lost dog report. The station did not broadcast national news because the management felt it included more divisive material for the community and the station’s audience. KBAD’s motto promoted the station and its fans as * Kindhearted * Brilliant * Ambitious and * Devoted! It had a unique frequency on the AM Dial at 1000.0khz AM and 100.0mhz FM. The frequency identifier permitted those who wish to find it an easy way to remember its location on the radio dial. Operating by remote control authorization from the Federal Communications Commission, KBAD’s radio tower stood in two separate locations. The FM Broadcast Transmitter and Antenna broadcast on the same tower as many of the local television stations’ antenna services towers near the edge of town. The AM Broadcast Transmitter was with three directional towers west of the city on a hill that permitted the station to fluctuate power between sunrise – sunset – sunrise hours. The AM station reduced power during the daytime, and the signal with increased power would reach a different area than at night. The night signal could reach several states.
The day was unfolding as usual, with one of our regular radio programs in full swing. Suddenly, in the midst of a phone-in segment, a caller made a startling revelation –––
“Do you people know that there is a guy hanging from your radio tower west of town? He is just dangling there.”
The Host was surprised by the caller comment and replied
Sir, this is a live show. Please, this is not a time for pranks.
The caller shot back. – The caller’s voice was urgent, his words cutting through the airwaves.
‘This is not a joke,’ he insisted. ‘There’s a man, about three-fourths of the way up your middle tower, hanging upside down. You need to get him help.’
The Host, with urgency in his voice, told listeners
We take this seriously; our station manager and engineer are coming to the tower, and emergency responders are responding.
The Host then suggested that the caller should have notified 911 before calling the radio station first.
The man hanging upside down had been hired as a contractor to change the red blinking lights once a year to make sure that it met FCC requirements. On his way up, he experienced a fatal heart attack. He was tied off and had his safety gear on, which prevented him from falling when he could not continue climbing or descent. Due to how high he was, a specialized team of climbers had to be dispatched from over three hundred miles away to go to the scene and create a plan to lower him. It took over 24 hours to get the man to the ground safely.
In the picturesque fusion of a town that captures the charm of Mayberry and the boundless frontier of Star Trek, two hearts found a love that defies time and space. Meet Ben and Steve, a couple whose love story is as enchanting as it is enduring—a beacon of hope and resilience that inspires all who witness it.
Ben and Steve
Steve, whose eyes sparkle like the constellations he admires, has always been a dreamer, casting his gaze toward the heavens with wonder and curiosity. On the other hand, Ben embodies justice and bravery, fearlessly chasing down thieves and reclaiming stolen cars. His badge shines brightly as a symbol of his commitment to protecting others.
Their worlds may seem galaxies apart, with Steve whispering messages to the cosmos through his microphone and Ben upholding the law with unwavering dedication. Still, these very differences make their love story so captivating. United by a love transcending boundaries, they lean on each other, their bond unbreakable, and their passion ever-growing.
Their love story began over four decades ago, a chance encounter that set the stage for a lifetime of shared dreams and unwavering commitment. Fourteen years ago, they leaped into matrimony, not just as a legal union but as a testament to their enduring love and resilience. In the face of uncertainty, it was a promise that their love would remain steadfast and accurate, and no matter what challenges lay ahead or rights that might be under threat, they would forever be united.
As the years have passed, their love has only grown stronger. They still greet each day with breakfast together, their laughter and companionship a testament to their enduring friendship and love. When future generations look back, marveling at how they managed to keep the flame of love alive for so long, the answer will be simple: it’s because of Ben and Steve and their unwavering passion and commitment to each other.
So, here’s to the kisses shared and the laughter exchanged, the dreams dreamed, and the challenges overcome. Their happiness is a daily reminder of the power of love, a beautiful reality that reminds us all to believe in the magic of true love. Cheers to Ben and Steve, whose love story inspires and enchants us all, proving that true love is timeless and everlasting.
This election isn’t about pitting the young against the old. It’s about ensuring that Gen Z and Millennials, who constitute a significant third of our nation’s population, have representation that mirrors their presence.
David Hogg Leaders We Deserve PBS Interview
Although remembered as older, numerous influential leaders initiated their activism in their youth. We aim to support these leaders—like John Lewis, who embarked on a mission for vital change at a young age and became one of our country’s most pivotal and influential leaders.
Our goal is straightforward: elect more youthful leaders capable of introducing fresh perspectives into our government.
Numerous barriers have historically prevented young people from entering public service and achieving the representation they deserve. Those who support America for all should make every effort to assist young candidates in overcoming these obstacles.
Visit Leaders We Deserve
After the setbacks of 2016, the 2018 blue wave brought the Democratic Party a renewed recognition of the influence young voters wield. In 2020, Joe Biden’s election, which was largely driven by the substantial turnout from Millennial and Gen Z voters, showcased the power of youthful participation. Your voice matters, and your vote can shape the course of our nation.
Vist The Post On Leaders We Deserve Winning!
In 2022, young voters reaffirmed their electoral influence, thwarting the anticipated “red wave.” Emerging young leaders like Justin Jones in Tennessee and Maxwell Frost in Florida gained prominence. Groups like “Leaders We Deserve” also celebrated their first endorsement success with Nadarius Clark’s election in Virginia.
Listen To Interviewof radio interview
The benefits of electing young leaders extend beyond Gen Z and Millennials; they enrich the nation and shape our future. Commencing political involvement at a young age capitalizes on time, making it a potent political ally. Gen Z’s potential longevity in Capitol Hill eclipses many, underscoring the urgency of their ascent to power. The time to act is now.
If you resonate with a mission and aspire to bolster the election of deserving leaders in 2024 and beyond, please act to support feasible campaigns like “Leaders We Deserve” to support their endeavors or find a campaign that will help elect a Democratic Candidate to office.
A Vote For Trump Is A Vote Against Democracy! Remember, Vote Blue When You Do!
My household has always maintained a relatively liberal understanding of the country’s homeless situation. We disagree with outlawing their right to exist and have a place to live and shelter. They are, after all, doing the best they can with the current housing, employment, transportation, or other issues they face. Let them be!
That is what our stance has been all along, until we went out to breakfast this past weekend and the police department was herding a group along the main boulevard we take to our restaurant. They appeared to be the characters you don’t want to run into in a dark alley at night—or daytime, for that matter. For Christ’s sake, were they planning to put roots down behind our neighborhood. We have a wall around the place, but salespeople always jump in and try to knock on doors. We have security but are not the type that can handle these characters. Every winter, we have a homeless troupe that typically arrives and camps near a river, but they are the same people every year, and they are like the snowbirds who flow in and out of the area from the north. These new homeless characters were of a family we never experienced before.
And that is what is scaring so many in America. The police found a suitable place for the troupe to travel on to, and there were no more sights of them after that initial spotting. But that is different for many in the country. These homeless populations inundate their communities, and it is an issue they have never before had to face. What if they are following suit? How many more will come? What problems will they bring with them? Will the property values deflate wherever they plant a stake? Jesus, are they diseased?
California has spent billions of dollars trying to fix its homeless problem and has failed to find a solution. The issue is greater there now than ever. Affordable housing remains unobtainable to those needing it. California is asking people to build tiny homes in their backyards, garages, wherever there is space, and make them available to house people. The problem is, if folks don’t want them in their alleys, will they want them in their garages?
Locally in Phoenix, Arizona. My husband hired an unhoused person years ago and knew she was, although she had not disclosed so on her introduction form. He worked with her schedule to make sure she kept her employment, and within six months, she was able to get a studio apartment, moving from her car. She then told him. He said he knew all along, and that is why he had worked so hard to keep her going, and she turned out to be one of the best employees. Such an example may not be the case with every person, but it is an example of how we can attribute ourselves to improving the situation one person at a time.
While feeling uneasy about sudden changes in your community is natural, it’s important to remember that homelessness is not a choice for many people. They often face a variety of challenges, including mental health issues, substance abuse, lack of affordable housing, and unemployment, which can contribute to their situation.
As for the broader issue of homelessness, it’s clear that a comprehensive and compassionate approach is needed to address the root causes and provide effective solutions. This approach may include increasing access to affordable housing, expanding mental health and addiction services, and providing job training and employment opportunities for homeless individuals.
The Supreme Court now has the issue, and the Lord only knows what they will come up with. But no doubt Texas will pass a law ordering the execution of all homeless people after 30 days of being homeless.
Joe Biden has taken 382 vacation days off to date. That equates to over one full year on vacation out of 3 years as US president. Is he the most ineffective US president in history?
Answered by Benjamin via benandsteve.com
We take your word it was 382. I need President Biden’s schedule to confirm such details. Since the job is 24/7, 365 days a year, you never have any privacy, nor a day without less than twenty interruptions, even when on vacation. The vacation days alone don’t necessarily reflect a president’s effort. Being president is a demanding job that comes with its own set of challenges and responsibilities. While the president must take breaks and maintain a work-life balance, one should consider the number of vacation days in the broader context of one president over another president’s performance, decision-making, and leadership.
Every presidency has challenges and circumstances, and comparing one president’s vacation days to another does not give a comprehensive view of their effectiveness. When evaluating a presidency’s effectiveness, it’s also essential to consider the accomplishments, policies enacted, and challenges faced.
The information provided may be more accurate or presented better to portray a specific narrative. It’s always a good idea to fact-check information and consider multiple perspectives before forming an opinion.
For a fact, here’s what Biden didn’t do:
He never only started his work days around 11 am or 11:3AM, crisis or not.
Never made an ass out of himself on a global stage.
Never has had disregards to promises made during his campaign.
He Never has been impeached.
Biden didn’t get impeached a second time.
Biden never had to survive a Senate trial that most senators later – admit that they should’ve voted and should’ve been guilty.
Biden didn’t get indicted – FOUR TIMES.
It wasn’t Biden who tried overturning the People’s Will in the 2020 *Election by inciting an insurrection!
No Biden didn’t call the Georgia Secretary of State and attempt to *Strong arm him into creating 12,000 more votes in his favor.
Biden didn’t take papers from the national archives and refuse to return them to the United States Government. Going as far as to tell employees to hide the location of the boxes that contained them from authorities. Then, he agreed to return them and never did so. Then, having the stated allegations recorded on the video camera and denying it was real, lying to the FBI (also a crime.)
The list of things President Biden never did could go on, but it would be easier if you tuned into Court TV Monday through Friday.
Those are the differences you can make between Biden and Trump, which is just the start!
The documentary “1946: The Mistranslation That Shifted a Culture” delves into a controversial and thought-provoking topic that challenges conventional beliefs about the Bible and homosexuality. Directed by Sharon “Rocky” Roggio, the film examines the claim that the Bible originally did not mention homosexuality and that references to it were added due to mistranslation and misunderstanding of ancient Greek terms.
The film highlights the work of Christian scholars who delve into forgotten archives at Yale University to uncover the origins of this mistranslation. It argues that conservative Christians began to propagate this mistranslation in the 1970s to scapegoat the LGBTQ+ community and oppose their growing liberation movement.
Roggio, who identifies as a lesbian and is the daughter of an evangelical minister, engages in dialogues with her father throughout the film, attempting to find common ground and challenge his beliefs about homosexuality being a sin. This personal narrative adds depth and emotion to the documentary, as it explores the complexities of faith, identity, and acceptance within a family divided by differing views on sexuality and religion.
The documentary sheds light on the potential harm caused by misunderstandings and misinterpretations of religious texts, highlighting the real-world consequences faced by LGBTQ+ individuals who have been marginalized, discriminated against, and even persecuted due to these beliefs.
Overall, “1946: The Mistranslation That Shifted a Culture” offers a compelling perspective on a contentious issue, urging viewers to question and reevaluate long-held beliefs and encouraging dialogue, understanding, and acceptance.
Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender National Hotline 1-888-843-4564. “The Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender National Hotline provide telephone and email peer-counseling, as well as factual information and local resources for cities and towns across the United States.
Indeed, the economic conditions at the end of Trump’s term were challenging due to the pandemic, and Biden inherited an economy facing significant headwinds. The pandemic’s impact on the economy was unprecedented, affecting employment, consumption, and global demand.
However, public perception and political narratives often prioritize certain aspects of an administration’s performance while downplaying others. People’s opinions become shaped by various factors, including media coverage, partisan affiliation, personal experiences, and messaging from political leaders.
Trump had shut down the United States of America, a fact that nearly every American forgets today. They need to remember the closed stores, the empty shelves, the closed restaurants, the doctor’s office that had to refuse patients, hospitals that were so full no one could visit, and nursing homes where loved ones had to stand outside and wave to loved ones from the street, and Funeral Homes so full they were using rental refrigerator trucks to store bodies—the toilet paper shortages. That was Trump’s Administration. Biden had to clean it up. He received much blame for what must occur to get the nation back on track. But he got to work, and the country got back to life.
Here are a few points to consider when thinking about why public opinion might differ between Trump and Biden regarding the economy:
Partisan Bias: Political affiliations can heavily influence people’s views on the economy. Republicans may be more inclined to credit Trump for positive economic developments during his term and blame external factors like the pandemic for any downturns. Conversely, Democrats may be more critical of Trump’s handling of the economy and more forgiving of the challenges Biden faced upon taking office.
Messaging and Framing: Political leaders and media outlets shape public opinion. How economic data and policies get reported can influence people’s perceptions of the economy’s performance. Trump was known for touting positive economic indicators during his term, influencing public perception despite the broader challenges.
Another significant factor that shapes public opinion on the economy is personal experience. People’s direct economic situations, such as job loss, financial hardship, or financial gains, can profoundly impact their views. For instance, someone who experienced a job loss or financial hardship during Trump’s term might have a negative view of his economic policies. Conversely, if someone benefited from tax cuts or saw their investments grow, they might have a more positive perception. Complexity of Economic Issues: Economic conditions are influenced by a multitude of factors, including global trends, monetary policy, fiscal policy, and more. It can be challenging for the average person to parse through these complexities and assign credit or blame to a particular administration accurately.
In conclusion, public opinion on the economy is multifaceted, and partisan biases could dominate messaging, personal experiences, and the complexity of economic issues. While the data presented paints a challenging economic picture at the end of Trump’s term, public perception is by broader factors. And it is conveniently forgotten!
When A Law Maker Takes Amen Corner To The People’s House
In a scene straight out of a dystopian movie about America’s collapse into christofascism, here’s a video of Arizona State Senator Anthony Kern and his group of anti-abortion zealots on their hand and knees in the the AZ State House Chamber of the state capital, engaging in tongues-praying for the reinstatement of a near-total abortion ban from 1864.
Image is not that of any person appearing in report.
Kern — a former code enforcement officer who was fired for lying and “string of other disciplinary problems” — can be seen on the carpet with his gang of extremists circled around the Arizona state seal in the carpet, babbling fervently for divine intervention to resurrect a Civil War-era law.
As Public affairs strategist Tony Cani points out, the real kicker is that they didn’t even need to pray; the groundwork for this moment had been meticulously laid out years prior.
That sounds like a striking and controversial scene, blending elements of politics, religion, and history. The image you’ve painted paints a vivid picture of the tensions surrounding issues like abortion and the intersection of religion and politics in American society.
It’s always concerning when political figures engage in such public displays of religious fervor to push a specific agenda, especially when it involves legislation that could significantly impact people’s lives. The blending of state and religious symbols in a governmental chamber can raise questions about the separation of church and state, a foundational principle in the United States.
The fact that Senator Anthony Kern has a history of disciplinary problems adds another layer of complexity to the situation. It raises questions about his credibility and the motivations behind such a public and symbolic act.
Tony Cani’s observation about the groundwork being laid out years prior underscores the idea that these moments are often carefully orchestrated for maximum impact. It highlights the strategic nature of political theater and the lengths to which some will go to advance their agenda.
It’s essential for citizens to remain informed and critically evaluate these actions, ensuring that decisions made by elected officials are in the best interest of all constituents and uphold the principles of democracy and justice.
One could bring up a valid point about the intersection of religion and politics, especially when politicians use religious displays as a means to appear more righteous or to gain public support for their agenda. The scripture from Matthew 6:5-8 that is mentioned highlights the importance of sincerity and humility in religious practice, cautioning against performative acts of piety.
When politicians engage in public displays of religious fervor, it can raise questions about their sincerity and motivations. Are they genuinely acting out of religious conviction, or are they using religion as a tool to advance their political goals? The line between genuine faith and political opportunism can become blurred, leading to skepticism and mistrust among the public.
It’s essential for voters and citizens to be discerning and critical of such displays, ensuring that they hold their elected officials accountable for their actions and motivations. Blind acceptance of religious or political rhetoric without critical evaluation can lead to the exploitation of faith for political gain.
Ultimately, the misuse of religion for political purposes can undermine the true essence of faith, which should be centered on love, compassion, and genuine connection with the divine, rather than on power, control, or political advantage.
Florida has a new law that is designed to fill prisons.
‘We will catch you and we will prosecute you’: Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis is cracking down on retail theft – how he’ll ‘distinguish’ the state from ‘lawless jurisdictions’ https://t.co/ksBOXG9D7V via @flipboard
— benandstevecom Galaxy8News (@benandstevecom) April 17, 2024
Commercial Incarceration Facilities Prospering In Florida. Investments in private prisons contracted with Florida show favor with new laws designed to provide continous population on a rotational basis.
The growth and prosperity of commercial incarceration facilities in Florida have been a topic of debate and concern for many. Investments in private prisons have indeed increased in recent years, and this growth can be attributed to several factors, including new laws and policies that aim to maintain a steady population within these facilities.
One of the key issues often raised regarding private prisons is the potential conflict of interest that arises when profit motives intersect with the administration of justice. Critics argue that the financial incentives associated with running a for-profit prison may lead to practices that prioritize cost-cutting over the well-being and rehabilitation of inmates.
Proponents of private prisons, on the other hand, argue that these facilities can operate more efficiently than their public counterparts, potentially saving taxpayer money. They also point to contractual agreements that often include occupancy guarantees, ensuring a consistent revenue stream for investors.
However, concerns persist about the quality of care and services provided in private prisons, as well as the potential for abuse and neglect. Reports of overcrowding, inadequate medical care, and safety issues have raised alarm bells among advocates for criminal justice reform.
In Florida, the state has entered into contracts with private prison companies to house a portion of its inmate population. With new laws designed to ensure a continuous flow of inmates into these facilities, investors in private prisons may see this as a lucrative opportunity for growth.
It’s essential to approach the topic of private prisons with a critical lens, considering both the potential benefits and drawbacks associated with their operation. As the debate continues, policymakers, advocates, and stakeholders must work together to ensure that any expansion of private prisons prioritizes public safety, justice, and the well-being of inmates.
I recently sat down and tackled a project I had avoided for years. It involved a collection of hundreds of photos of my family. Photos, as far as I can tell, ever since the invention of the camera. Family members I knew, knew of, or who had died before I was born, all there staring back at me. I recollected many of the stories told to me by my grandparents, dad, and mother. So, with these stories, I want to begin sharing some photos with my regular mix of information. There are several already posted at benandsteve.com on the home page. You will also find updates on other pages on the site. ✌️🏼
And surprisingly, some are not too far from the truth.
The sometimes accurate, sometimes outlandish clippings were shared on X by Paul Fairie, a researcher at the University of Calgary.
One that’s very recognisable is the city of the future.
‘Automobiles travelling on speedways through the centre of town’, ‘ever-moving sidewalks’ and ‘motorcars increasing and multiplying indefinitely’ all definitely came true.
Less so is the idea that those multiplying cars would bring about the extinction of the horse.
This prediction is no where near true (Picture: X/ @paulisci)
Last year, a YouGov poll found that more than a quarter of people in the UK have tattoos. We reckon this one has come true, as it was anticipated that ‘debutantes will dye their skin all the colours of the rainbow’, with an expectation that hair would follow suit, much like a ‘Victorian debutante concealed her personality under voluminous hoops and draperies’.
And pity those listening to the radio in 1924, when it was pretty dull apparently, because in another prediction, it was said ‘Americans will laugh at radios’. For 2024, it’s not just radio that bringing the LOLs, but also podcasts, which continue to soar in popularity.
Many Americans do laugh at something like a radio (Picture: X/@paulisci)
One that’s pretty much there is a longer life expectancy, where we would live to be 100 years old, and 75 years would be considered as young.
Two that definitely came true are blocks of flats that are 100 stories tall, and family albums made of videos instead of photographs.
A prediction that sadly hasn’t hit the mark – ‘movies will bring about world peace’ as people will establish a brotherhood but Hollywood has not yet accomplished a universal language or eliminated conflict from the civilised world.
And while adorably optimistic, that is far from the most outlandish.
Hollywood has not yet created a movie that brings world peace (Picture: X/@paulisci)
Some of the stranger predictions involve beds flinging children out of bed in the morning, people hopping from planet to planet as easily as we soar through the sky now (we wish), flying clothes and men’s legs withering away from underuse, Wall-E style.
Men do not live Wall-E style (Picture: X/@paulisci)
Oh, and diamond engagement rings should have lost their allure by now, being replaced with hundreds of pounds of sugar.
And surprisingly, some are not too far from the truth.
The sometimes accurate, sometimes outlandish clippings were shared on X by Paul Fairie, a researcher at the University of Calgary.
One that’s very recognisable is the city of the future.
‘Automobiles travelling on speedways through the centre of town’, ‘ever-moving sidewalks’ and ‘motorcars increasing and multiplying indefinitely’ all definitely came true.
Less so is the idea that those multiplying cars would bring about the extinction of the horse.
This prediction is no where near true (Picture: X/ @paulisci)
Last year, a YouGov poll found that more than a quarter of people in the UK have tattoos. We reckon this one has come true, as it was anticipated that ‘debutantes will dye their skin all the colours of the rainbow’, with an expectation that hair would follow suit, much like a ‘Victorian debutante concealed her personality under voluminous hoops and draperies’.
And pity those listening to the radio in 1924, when it was pretty dull apparently, because in another prediction, it was said ‘Americans will laugh at radios’. For 2024, it’s not just radio that bringing the LOLs, but also podcasts, which continue to soar in popularity.
Many Americans do laugh at something like a radio (Picture: X/@paulisci)
One that’s pretty much there is a longer life expectancy, where we would live to be 100 years old, and 75 years would be considered as young.
Two that definitely came true are blocks of flats that are 100 stories tall, and family albums made of videos instead of photographs.
A prediction that sadly hasn’t hit the mark – ‘movies will bring about world peace’ as people will establish a brotherhood but Hollywood has not yet accomplished a universal language or eliminated conflict from the civilised world.
And while adorably optimistic, that is far from the most outlandish.
Hollywood has not yet created a movie that brings world peace (Picture: X/@paulisci)
Some of the stranger predictions involve beds flinging children out of bed in the morning, people hopping from planet to planet as easily as we soar through the sky now (we wish), flying clothes and men’s legs withering away from underuse, Wall-E style.
Men do not live Wall-E style (Picture: X/@paulisci)
Oh, and diamond engagement rings should have lost their allure by now, being replaced with hundreds of pounds of sugar.
Billy Idol was doing a cover of “Mony Mony“…a song written and performed originally by Tommy James and the Shondells in 1968. The meaning of MonyMony is simply…Mutual of New York Insurance Company. M-O-N-Y.
Tommy James explained in an interview: “Originally, we did the track without a song. And the idea was to create a party rock record; in 1968 that was pretty much of a throwback to the early ’60s. Nobody was making party rock records really in 1968, those big-drum-California-sun-what-I-sing-money-type songs. And so I wanted to do a party rock record.
And we went in the studio, and we pasted this thing together out of drums here, and a guitar riff here. It was called sound surgery, and we finally put it together in probably a month. We had most of the words to the song, but we still had no title. And it’s just driving us nuts, because we’re looking for like a ‘Sloopy’ or some crazy name – it had to be a two-syllable girl’s name that was memorable and silly and kind of stupid sounding. So we knew what kind of a word we had, it’s just that everything we came up with sounded so bad. So Ritchie Cordell, my songwriting partner and I, are up in my apartment up at 888 Eighth Avenue in New York. And finally we get disgusted, we throw our guitars down, we go out on the terrace, we light up a cigarette, and we look up into the sky. And the first thing our eyes fall on is the Mutual of New York Insurance Company. M-O-N-Y. True story. With a dollar sign in the middle of the O, and it gave you the time and the temperature.
I had looked at this thing for years, and it was sitting there looking me right in the face. We saw this at the same time, and we both just started laughing. We said, ‘That’s perfect! What could be more perfect than that?’ Mony, M-O-N-Y, Mutual of New York. And so we must have laughed for about ten minutes, and that became the title of the song.”
The Story Of My Grandparents May Hold Guiding Strengths For Us Today
(gifted clock)
The story of my grandparents’ union goes back to August 10th, 1910. They wed on the Caddo and Washita County Line near where SH-152 is today, West of Cobb Creek. On that day, my grandfather, Benjamin Harrison Groff I., known as “Pop,” and my grandmother, Florence Lula McElroy, known as “Mom,” received a clock from Pop’s brother-in-law and sister, John and Laura Alice Groff Dowty. A piece of further history, Pop’s father was born in Switzerland, and Mom’s Father came into the world in Louisianna before its statehood.
It was in 1908 that Florence traveled with some of her siblings to the area to visit her brother Jim, who had married into the McLemore family. While visiting, she met Benjamin and fell in love; in those days, Ben was to ask her father for a hand in marriage before asking the bride. But Florence’s father was in that 3-state area of Texas, Oklahoma, and Arkansas and unable to travel due to his age. Economically, the to-be groom could not travel to the area. So, the agreement was that the bride’s oldest brother, John, would come to Eakly and consider Benjamin’s request for her hand in marriage. And John rode a horse from far southeast Oklahoma to Eakly, Oklahoma, for the request. The answer must have been yes because they wed.
Mom’s family lived in Southwest Arkansas, Southeast Oklahoma, and parts of Northeast Texas. They were within rock-throwing distance, and they never knew which state they were in. Her father was a Baptist preacher who led a fire and brimstone ministry and led by strict rule. He had fought in the Civil War, but on which side I never knew. The only answer I ever got was, “he fought on the right side.” There were twelve kids in the McElroy family. Some of them were dead by old age when I was born in 1963.
Groff BARN
The Groff family migrated from Illinois, where Pop’s father was a farmer. He was known for having a huge barn in the community. It is one of the only to have been built by his sons and stands without a single piece of iron or nail. The Groff Barn built by Ulrich Groff and his sons remained put together using carpentry skills Ulrich Groff’s father taught him from the old land as late as 2000.
Above a rowdy bunch together the Groff Brothers who built the all wood barn in Illinois, in the 1800s.
OTIS GROFF
in 1905 two sons, Otis and Benjamin, took advantage of the opening of land in Oklahoma and claimed property west of Cobb Creek, north of SH-152 and Highway 58. It was then known as 41 Highway and Alfalfa Road. The brothers built two homes; Benjamin’s was on the property where, over sixty-five years later, the baseball player from Eakly, Michael Moore, and his family would live. It is the same home where the couple, Mom and Pop, would later raise three children and adopt another unofficially, taking in others in need. The father of the boys, Ulrich, came to Oklahoma, but word was he was afraid of being attacked by Indians, so he went back to Illinois.
(Mom & Pop Wedding Day)
On the day of their wedding, sitting in a buggy along a dirt road west of Cobb Creek, a photographer was on hand to record an image of the couple, and then John Dowty handed them a new clock he had bought from a hardware store in Eakly. To keep their love from running out of time. The clock remained in their home, ticking every day since.
The couple had three children: Bennie Ulridge, Dortha Eliouse, and JD.
JD GROFF 14YOA. 1936
My dad, JD, is named after John Dowty. But the Mom and Pop wished to honor a man known as either Big John Dowty or Uncle John Dowty by using just the two initials, without an abbreviation. It sometimes appeared as a curse for my dad because he would go through life telling people who placed periods with J and D that they had incorrectly spelled his name. I have heard him say, “It’s two letters, and you mess it up!”
Ben H. ‘Pop’ Groff I
The Clock: Even after retiring from their farm and moving to town, they took the clock, which remained essential to their lives. It remained running, being cleaned at a clock repair once, only when Mom and Pop watched over the repair man like hawks. When they passed, it came to my parent’s home, where it sat on the fireplace mantel and went silent. When the day came for our family to sell our homeplace, I retrieved the clock and brought it to Arizona. My first task was to clean it. It keeps time great. It is picky and must be balanced, and its ticker has to be ‘set’ at just the right spot, or it will stop. It is picky about the key turning the spring up tight. The springs are old. So it is like an old violin and has to be handled with kid gloves. The wood is brittle and old, and the design is very ornate. It may not be to the liking of every modern setting. But, it is over one hundred years old and dear. And it holds many hours of memories of sitting at my grandparents, hearing its tick-tock, listening to their stories, worries, and hopes for the day.
Mom & Pop Groff
The older people were our glue. They would hold yearly family reunions after the harvest had ended. Celebrate every holiday grandly and make weekends and summers the most incredible escapes. Plus, they oozed with class and style. The character and morals they possessed are qualities sorely missed and that are needed today as we try to soar in this world of divided opinions.
When Good Guys And Gals Still Finished First. They Were Made To.
JD Groff & his Horse My Molly’s Reed
My dad was known for doing such things unselfishly. He had a reputation throughout Western Oklahoma as a trustworthy horseman and businessman. I found this article while going through clippings. I discovered that it had been stored in an attic at my parent’s home after my mother sold it to move in with relatives due to her age. I was born in 1963 and have never heard this story. I had listened to my grandmother speak of a story in national newspapers about my dad helping a man, but I thought it had something to do with his being in World War II. He never spoke much of the past and only looked to the future. Something that I became used to and have often found myself doing until I found boxes of memories that took me into the lives of my parents and grandparents and a life that I am proud of bragging about.
(The following piece was first presented on Quora when a question was poised by a Trump supporter.)
I’m a little perplexed by your attitude here – why does it need to be so adversarial?
Let’s be straight here, though: Democrats don’t want to stop you voting for whoever you please. That’s the nature of a democracy: everybody gets a voice, and you can use that voice as you see fit. If you want to vote for Donald Trump, go right ahead – just know that you’re telling us quite a bit about yourself when you make that choice, and it’s not a positive one.
This is the part, I suspect, that some Republicans don’t understand. Democrats largely wouldn’t want to stop you from voting, although we can’t say the same for Republicans, because they do want to stop people voting, judging by all the state-level attempts at voter suppression. What we want is for you to stop making such god-awful decisions when you do vote. We want you to pick someone that raises your aspirations and wants something better for you, rather than the lowest common denominator.
We get it: you want to “own the libs”, and you want someone that will aggressively go after those people who don’t agree with you. I can understand that: you guys don’t like your lifestyle or beliefs being challenged, and when you feel that way, you probably feel under threat, and the response some will take in that situation is to lash out. You’re letting people like Donald Trump do that on your behalf.
Problem is, when you make decisions like that, you’re only thinking about yourself or your local bubble, rather than what’s best for everyone. The United States isn’t a religious, social or political monoculture: it’s an inclusive society that has a diverse range of beliefs, opinions and choices. Any effective government exists not to promote just the well-being of a single group (e.g. white ‘conservative’ Christians), but rather to promote what’s best for everybody.
Your choices aren’t something I’d consider laudable: I won’t stop you making them, because you have to let people make mistakes in order to learn from them. But you’re out of your mind if you don’t think I won’t advocate better choices, or at least encourage you to see your mistakes for what they are.
So, by all means, vote for Donald Trump if you must, but recognise that I’ll disagree with your choice, and encourage you to make better ones. When I look at who to vote for, I’ll always aim for the person who has higher aspirations for the country, for who has a clear desire to break past partisan bickering and legislative logjam, and aim to do what’s best for everyone, including you. You and I both know that Donald Trump is mostly out there to do what’s best for himself, and that you’re okay with that provided he hurts those you don’t agree with.
Just remember that these things have a way of backfiring. You put an aggressive, adversarial and ignorant President into office, particularly one known for cheating, philandering and lying his ass off, and it’s only a matter of time before he turns against you, particularly if he doesn’t feel the need for you anymore.
I think you can do better. Actually, I think you must do better. That’s what being a “true American” is all about, after all: striving towards something that was better than what came before it. It’s rather worrying that too many Americans have forgotten that.
BENANDSTEVEDOTCOM THE INSTAGRAM.COM PAGE
INFORMATION AND MORE THAT MAY BE USEFUL IN DAILY LIFE.
We are glad you found benandsteve.com —- this post brings you to a site where you can learn more about different individuals born into this world trying to find normalcy. I often call it “Being Straight In A Gay World!” For so many, they are forced not to live their true selves. And lies are sometimes fatal.
For hoots and to offer you relief from the hard-hitting info and news, we sometimes find pieces to keep a chuckle in the heart from deep inside the benandsteve.com files.
Live on!
Benjamin
You know why I am Gay? Because God Made Me That Way, or That’s The Way The Genes Flow. And It’s NObody’s Damn Business But Mind. You HEAR!
SCOOBY DOO! Looks Like Someone Is Going To Get A Scooby Snack!
Every day, anti-trans rhetoric is spreading and becoming more virulent. Conservative forces in statehouses across America are pushing bills that would strip trans people of rights, including access to vital medical care. In some places, these laws have already passed. This is all part of a concerted, coordinated effort, as Madison Pauly’s reporting shows. Paul
WHEN ANYONE GETS DENIED A RIGHT AFFORDED TO ANOTHER, WHETHER THE REASON FOR WITHHOLDING IS CIVIL OR PRIVILEGED, IT’S DENIAL TO ALL. BECAUSE IT IS A NEED FOR MANY – THAT – THE FEW ARE TOO PREJUDICED EVER TO UNDERSTAND.
About Gays And Why Laws, Book Bans, School Boards, And Other Restrictions Attempting To Bash And Attempted Genocide Against Queer Peoples Won’t Stop More People From Increasing The Populations In The LGBTQI Community!
We all remember that day. It may be a Spring afternoon following a light rain shower, with flowers peaking from beneath their winter hiding place for a first glimpse of the season’s sun. There we sit. We were pondering between the two choices. Will we be straight or gay? Surely everyone remembers that day, for if it is a choice, everyone faces the same options. You can choose both, they say. That needs to be clarified.
To be or not to be, when we were teens, first discovering who we were, for some, it was challenging to accept, and it took years for those who grew up in communities that were closed-minded and set to one way of life to finally get into their head that they were who they are and not who others expected them to be. They had tried to take the path of least resistance and attempted to take the straight route, not given another choice. But every piece of their biological body screamed at them, telling them something wasn’t right. They were misleading others, lying every minute of their life, and never being their true selves. They either had to leave and be their authentic self or die. Some tried to marry, but after a period, the inner madness kept them from carrying on, and their either killed themselves, came out and took the hell and damnation from the small communities in which they lived, or packed up and disappeared. Many may have turned to alcohol or drugs, appearing to believe it was better to be an addict than what they felt was their true self. If they were lucky, they met their soul mate and were rescued from the prison that so many are forced into by a society that is cruel and judgmental of others. Fortunately for others, they meet their lifemates just out of high school. They seem to know how to manage the world around them and find a world to live and operate in a life they would have otherwise missed out on, creating long-term relationships and being grateful things turned out as they do. They would not have wished to miss on so much love and so many adventures.
Forty-one years later, another couple still see simple rights afforded to their neighbors, rights that are threatened to be stripped from them by bigoted and power-hungry maga-republicans. So a question is asked to these groups suggesting they can kill off the gays. When did they choose to be straight? And, why is allowing this couple to live in peace so bad?
All the books, movies, and internet sites in the world may get banned; however, that will not stop the same amount of new homosexual and bisexual men and women from populating the earth each year. Some evil act does not make them. They are born, just like the couple you are reading about.Just like you!
One couple originates from small towns in Western Oklahoma. Growing up, they were never acquainted with gay anything. Both were church-attending, straight-laced lads all the way. Still, each began slowly dying from living in a suppressive community that had conditioned them to believe they were the worst people on the earth and were going to Hell. That worked until they met after high school and finally began to breathe life through one another. It took a lifetime to overcome the damage God-fearing sermons placed on them. They chose to move to a larger city and begin to grow privately, not making themselves the center attraction of life, but their community knew they coupled. As life continued, so did their love and energy, and now they live in a retirement community. But their rights are under threat daily. Because their property, retirement, and physical and fiscal security are in danger by daily threats of changing laws and bigotry. Research has discovered there should be signs on every front door of any religious establishment reading “for entertainment purposes only, because it does not produce a benefit for the community as a whole, just for the few!”
So When Did You Choose Your Sexual Preference?
And To Screw With It Would Cause Extinction!
This passionate talk from Dr. James O’Keefe, MD, gives us a deeply personal and fascinating insight into why homosexuality is a necessary and instrumental cog in nature’s perfection.
Research shows those making up the LGBTQI Communities are responsible for keeping the human race alive.
So When Did You Decide? When Did You Make Your Decision On Who To Be?
LGBTQI? It Is Natures Response To Maintaining The Magic Balance In Life – And To Screw With It Would Cause Extinction.
Maintaining The Magic Balance In Life
For those desiring more proof that the existence of gays is “born” to history and that the members of the LGBTQI Community do not simply choose to be Gay, this history lesson may help if you are an individual with a mind with enough room to learn new and factual information.
Another way to arrive at the understanding of whether LGBTQI members are born or are made of people choosing a lifestyle, ask yourself when you decided to be heterosexual (straight). What day did you choose between the options available and determine what life you wanted? Then consider who would ever pick a life where their being would face prejudices, denial of employment, housing, and services if they had a choice not to have to face the constant bigotry bashing them daily.
If you believe in a Higher Authority, a God. If this is your premise and you still object to these beings walking the earth, take it up with Him. When you do, if you believe scripture, consider Genesis 1:26-28, which announces that human beings are unique and all are in the image of God.
§Then God said, 'Let us make man in our image, according to our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the sky and the cattle and over all the earth. Genesis 1:26-28
IF HE IS TRUE. AND THERE IS AN ALMIGHTY. AND HE DID SOMETHING WRONG IN DESIGNING CERTAIN INDIVIDUALS TO BE DIFFERENT. THEN YOU SHOULD TELL HIM HE IS WRONG!
Viewing the windows to the right will allow the Facebook Posting to open so the original content can be read.
Remember It…The Day You Decided!
This Is Not A Paid Advertisement
If you are God Fearing, then this message is for you!–Our supposed sins will not send you to Hell. But God will ask about yours, i.e., judging others, planting seeds of strife. So the sins you commit are the only ones you should be concerned with. We are fine in answering to the top, should there be anything to comment on. You take care of your side of the street. We will tend to ours!
A Note From Benjamin
