Book Review: Tears for My Father

Title: Tears for My Father

Author: Tom Fugate

Date:

Publisher: Amazon

ISBN:

Length:

Illustrations: black-and-white photographs

Quote:

This is the blog of a dutiful son of a senile father, printed as a book. Tom Fugate invited comments from the older baby-boomers in Scott County, Virginia, who remember Principal Freddie Fugate. When I was in school he’d been promoted to Superintendent of Schools, succeeding a Mr. Elliott, whom I don’t remember personally either; children don’t spend much time with the Superintendent of Schools. I heard of both superintendents as just more of the bores who didn’t believe children ought to be able to work ahead of grade level, so I didn’t want to meet either of them and, so far as I remember, never had to do.

But when my natural sister was homeschooled her progress tests were administered by Superintendent Fugate. Not inclined to work ahead of grade level in any subject, she grumbled in a letter that public school students didn’t have to pass those tests to stay in public school. I remember sending her a new paper doll book (about the only thing she and I did together was dress paper dolls) with a letter from the dolls, stipulating that they wanted to be study mascots. “We like to study. We like to get those lessons DONE! We hear that some sort of Superintendent of Fudge, or something like that, does not think you are a good enough student to learn things on your own. We think that Superintendent of Fudge is full of walnuts.” It got the intended laugh, and may have helped the child pass the tests. Homeschooling was new and threatening for the older public school staff, but Superintendent Fugate was, as his son says in this book, a law-abiding man, and my natural sister was able to get through her homeschool and private school years, even a term in college, without having her hearing loss built up into a disability.

Tom Fugate deplores the loss of some of the local history in which his family figure. I can’t add much to that either; his ancestors didn’t live near enough to mine for the family stories to overlap. In the strict sense of the term they were indeed gentlemen and –women.

One thing Tom Fugate does explain is that his father’s name was originally “Feddie” Jackson Fugate. People “corrected” this unusual name to the more common name, Freddie, and Mr. Fugate let them.

For those who don’t remember Superintendent Fugate at all this book is just another sad little testimony to the misery of Alzheimer’s Disease. The stereotype of the patient who is glad to see a relative, then asks a few minutes later who the person is, acquires additional poignancy from the detail that such a patient may forget how to turn over in bed. It would be nice if memoirs of this disease could tell us how it might be prevented. So far they do not. It’s only by comparing what this book and similar ones tell me about people who develop Alzheimer’s Disease, and what I’ve read in, e.g., Prevention and The Washington Post about people who don’t, that I come away with an insight—for whatever it may turn out to be worth. But here it is.

For me, empathy is checked, early in the book, by the indirect but unmistakable statements that I’m not reading about fellow HSPs. Everyone is supposed to think and feel the same way. Any alternative is "not normal" and no alternative to "normal" is an improvement. I’ve heard things like this spoken in real life, and I’ve learned. They can reflect a deliberate blunting of perceptivity, a sort of emotional self-mutilation. More usually they reflect a lack of perceptivity. I prefer not to talk about anything at all personal or emotional with people who think this way, because, although many of them make it an article of faith that everybody has similar “feelings,” in fact whatever emotional reactions they have seem closer to what I've observed in cows and chickens than to what I've felt or observed among friends and family. Grief, among my kind of people, can draw people together in an agreement to treat each other’s grieving process as “special.” Grief, among this kind of people, is a trigger for their master emotion of hostility. No useful purpose is served by activating hostility. Anything at all is likely to set them off so it’s better to avoid speaking to them or looking at them than to try to compromise with the ones who also suffer from extroversion by participating in their “greeting” displays. This is the case in all situations, not only those that involve grieving. 

It’s ironic for me to note that although my elders, each in their own way, deplored the snobbery of the old feudal system, I grew up thinking of people who recognized the “specialness” of the raw emotions of grief as “gentle” people, and of those who did not as “churlish” or “common.” And to some extent there does still seem to be a socioeconomic class marker, although bourgeois types (the type who become social workers) who emote about emotions don’t show much more understanding of complex emotions, or much less underlying hostility, than Fugate here blurts out. But, as the social workers show, you can put emotionally underdeveloped people through “sensitivity training” but you can’t make them perceive or feel much beyond that default-to-hostility. People develop High Sensory Perceptivity or else they do not; people who do are in some ways an elite minority, Real Princesses or Princes. It has nothing to do with money. Many HSPs' only wealth is their neurological development.

As Fugate observes, one reason why Alzheimer’s Disease is poorly understood is that medicine has only recently advanced to a level that keeps people who develop this disease alive long enough to observe how they suffer from it. But if there is a way to avert or avoid this disease, it may be this: HSPs seldom seem to get Alzheimer’s Disease. (Brain damage, yes.) Alzheimer’s Disease seems, according to recent studies—which are new and inconclusive and very much a way of whistling in the dark—to develop in the brains of people who grunt and snarl and become hostile when confronted with new information (“Huh, if that were true I would have known about it already”) or with other people’s feelings (“Huh! They think that makes them special? I’ve (been ill/disabled, bereaved, rejected, frustrated) too!”). HSP brains consider new information, recognize the subtleties of emotions, and otherwise remain more flexible (“plastic”) than the brains of the non-HSPs who show that surly, churlish reaction. This makes it seem to some researchers that HSP brains age like non-HSP brains, albeit more slowly, but—theoretically at least—work around the physical damage ssociated with Alzheimer’s Disease in non-HSPs.

Did Superintendent Fugate believe that all children ought to fit one “norm” because he was genetically doomed not to develop the plasticity of a brain that becomes "wise” in old age, or did he become senile in old age because he believed in “normality”? Perhaps some day we’ll know. His generation were known as the Silent Generation because they were conditioned to fear all imagination, all complex (individual) emotion, all quirkiness of any kind. McCarthyism was only the tip of an iceberg. They suppressed memories and nuances and speculations in the name of maintaining complete and constant “contact with reality” and, later on, they lost all contact with reality altogether.

Whether people can stop the grunting and snarling, or the mindless grinning and chattering, and train themselves to think and feel and imagine, remains to be learned. In any case we can at least be aware, when we see that mental short-circuiting that blocks out new information or complex emotion: this is the behavior of a brain that’s predisposed to rot.

One can understand why someone who was christened “Feddie” might prefer “Freddie,” but perhaps, if the Feddies and Thurleys (not Shirleys) and Li-pings (not Lees) of this world insist on using their unusual given names or perhaps taking new ones, that’s a sign that they’ll become wise elders rather than senile ones. Long convoluted thoughts may seem to have more in common with “crazy” artistic styles than truncated, repetitious, stereotyped thoughts have, but long convoluted thoughts are in fact characteristic of healthy, long-lived brains. It is actually safer to keep learning and thinking of new possibilities than it is to lock down into efforts to think only "normal" thoughts.

What else can be learned from this book, besides the sad fact that Superintendent Fugate developed Alzheimer's Disease? It could very easily have been a longer book. While working to meet a minimum word count for this expression of grief, Tom Fugate forgot to add the formal biography taken from the public record. Principals' and school superintendents' work is administrative; they advise teachers, mediate between teachers and parents, but don't directly teach the children. Nevertheless, during the Fugate administration, our schools moved away from ranking students' progress relative to others and toward simple percentage scoring. If ten students answer ten out of ten questions right, then even if there are only ten students in the class, all ten scored 100% and are A students. 

This policy served us well; it shaped then-new Gate City High School, especially, into "State Trophy High." In academic as well as athletic competitions, we traditionally outscore bigger, richer, better funded schools. (It's not true that "Blue Devils" who fail to bring home a trophy are dropped into the Devil's Bathtub. I would know. Anyway, despite the chill and current, most people who dive into the Devil's Bathtub pop out alive.) You don't expect that in a town that has two business streets, each less than a half-mile long, students who take "preppy" courses are going to be prepared for Ivy League universities, students will be selected to attend international conferences, students will regularly be invited to spend a week in Washington--that it will be considered necessary to drill middle school students on what to say if they meet the First Family, because that might happen. During Freddie Fugate's administration, that sort of thing was normal at Gate City. There was no drug problem, either, and though there were students who got married while in high school (to classmates, or to older people who were not yet considered pedophiles), very few students became single parents while in high school. The discipline and determination observed at all the county's schools were known all across the State. There is always controversy about individual administrative decisions but, on the whole, the Fugate administration presided over some extraordinarily good, small, low-funded schools.

Men of Superintendent Fugate's age expected history to judge them by their job performance. So let it be remembered that, whatever that generation got wrong, Freddie Fugate worked his way up to a responsible, high-profile job, and he did that job well. 

HUD's Plan to Herd Americans Into Slums

Tom DeWeese's e-mail contained links. Google suspects that the site to which one of those links led has been hacked; it looks as if that may be the case. So, instead of posting possibly bad links on the Link Log, I'll post some key selections from the e-mail:

[DeWeese quoted this bit from a "National Mortgage" site:]

"

The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) is the subject of a class action lawsuit that claims its Note Sale Program has created a disproportionately discriminatory impact on New York City’s African-American homeowners.

The lawsuit, which was filed last week by MFY Legal Services Inc. and Emery Celli Brinckerhoff & Abady LLP, alleges that HUD sold approximately 1,000 delinquent Federal Housing Agency (FHA) mortgages in New York City to private investors without informing the homeowners and without alerting these homeowners that they would no longer have the basic due process protections of an FHA mortgage. The lawsuit cites cases of mortgages being sold even as the homeowner was in the process of receiving a loan modification.

The lawsuit also presents data that determined the mortgages being sold off in HUD’s Note Sale Program were primarily on residences in predominantly African-American neighborhoods, particularly southeast Queens and east Brooklyn. HUD’s next Note Sale is scheduled for Sept. 14.

“Homeownership is the principal way that families of color accumulate wealth,” said Diane Houk, of Emery Celli Brinckerhoff & Abady. “It is stunning that HUD, whose mission is to affirmatively further fair housing for all Americans, would carry out a program with a disparate and destabilizing effect on African-American communities.”
"

[And this bit was actually written by Kathleen Marquardt:]

"

What is social engineering? According to Social Engineering.org, it is influence, manipulation, elicitation, info gathering, psychology, science, profiling, communications modeling, facial expressions, body language, art, misdirection, pretexting, emotional hijacking, rapport.

What is Smart Growth? According to Rosa Koire at Democrats against UN Agenda 21.com: “Redevelopment is a tool used to further the Agenda 21 vision of remaking America's cities. With redevelopment, cities have the right to take property by eminent domain---against the will of the property owner, and give it or sell it to a private developer. By declaring an area of town 'blighted' (and in some cities over 90% of the city area has been declared blighted) the property taxes in that area can be diverted away from the General Fund. This constriction of available funds is impoverishing the cities, forcing them to offer less and less services, and reducing your standard of living. They'll be telling you that it's better, however, since they've put in nice street lights and colored paving. The money gets redirected into the Redevelopment Agency and handed out to favored developers building low-income housing and mixed use. 

Smart Growth. Cities have had thousands of condos built in the redevelopment areas and are telling you that you are terrible for wanting your own yard, for wanting privacy, for not wanting to be dictated to by a Condo Homeowner's Association Board, for being anti-social, for not going along to get along, for not moving into a cramped apartment downtown where they can use your property taxes for paying off that huge bond debt. But it's not working, and you don't want to move in there. So they have to make you.”

And HUD is the ATM through which the PTB (powers-that-be) first maneuver cities, counties, and even states into submitting to the globalist control, then pull the strings to eventually force them into Regional Planning.

Once Regional Planning is in effect in most communities, our elected officials will be eliminated and the regions will be run by globally appointed stakeholders. To see what the regions for the US will be, go to america2050 and look under ‘maps.’ In case you think this might be benign, the site states: “In the coming years America 2050 will continue to provide leadership on regional planning and major infrastructure priorities in the nation, including integrating water and energy planning with land use considerations and developing recommendations for the transition to a new presidential administration in 2013.”

As Tom said last month in “Listen this time or HUD will destroy your city,”

For twenty years we opponents of Agenda 21 and Smart Growth have warned of the dangers of taking these HUD grants. We were ignored and called conspiracy nuts. The result now is that HUD has taken the gloves off. There is no longer a pretense that any kind of local control over spending the grant money exists. HUD now controls your community. Property rights are dead, property values are dying, and the local officials you elected to guide your community have been rendered irrelevant by HUD mobsters who have come back to collect.

Also last month, Smart Growth America announced they are going to start targeting rural areas for regional control even though those residing in rural areas are going to be driven into the cities. So why do they bother with Smart Growth in the sticks? Add redistribution of wealth to their goals:

A new program to help rural places use smart growth strategies

“Smart growth strategies can help small towns build durable local economies, reduce public costs, and preserve the features that make them unique. And reinvesting in existing places can actually be even more impactful in smaller communities than in big cities. Small communities have fewer financial resources to work with, so even modest efforts to reduce costs—or generate more revenue—by growing in different ways can make a big difference.”

"

These comments apparently come from Tom DeWeese himself:

"

DESPITE DENIALS, HUD DOES CONTROL LOCAL ZONING

“‘It is important to note, however, that while zoning and land use are generally local matters, when local zoning or land use practices violate the Fair Housing Act, they become a Federal concern…”’ Federal Register July 16, 2015

As per John Anthony, an expert on the AFFH:

• “HUD contends they leave planning and zoning to local communities. AFFH is merely a ’planned framework’ that provides ‘nationwide uniformity and consistency for fair housing.’
• “First, HUD requires each applicant for CDBG and other grants, to complete an Assessment of Fair Housing, to identify all “contributing factors” to discrimination.
• “Next, the applicant submits a plan to HUD detailing how they will eliminate the “contributing factors” and foster integrated, balanced lifestyles.
• “Then, HUD can accept the plan, ask for modifications or reject it. If accepted, the jurisdiction receives funding and begins plan implementation.

“This sounds straightforward. But, there is a ‘catch.’

• “AFFH requires that civil rights groups, affordable housing developers and/or other civic activist organizations participate in creating the plan that defines and resolves potential areas of discrimination.
• “The applicant also signs an agreement to take no actions ‘materially inconsistent with its obligation to affirmatively further fair housing.’

If the community receives the grant money and decides to ignore one potential area of discrimination because of current zoning restrictions or voters’ choices, and instead focus on another, they are now vulnerable to lawsuits for failure meet their obligation to AFFH.”

"

So what does all this mean, in plain English? Well, consider Scott County, Virginia. The county's existing financial commitments are reportedly "forcing" a property tax hike. Most of us will grumble and pay higher taxes, as we've done so many times before. Some people will lose their homes. Oh, never fear, HUD is here to hold out funding to that otherwise absurd idea of building a new housing project on the site of the Friday Market in Gate City! A grant has already been handed out! Of course, the able-bodied people in Scott County would rather die than move into a housing project. (Wouldn't I? Wouldn't you?) And nearly all the old-age pensioners already living in our existing housing project look White, although some of them used to have black hair and would still have copper-toned skin if they spent more time outdoors. So HUD can carry out their plan of relocating...they'll say "blackandhispanic," in their discriminatory and deeply anti-Black and anti-Hispanic way, but they'll mean worst-case ghetto-type welfare cheats...into Gate City, just for the purpose of destroying what really does make us want to live here, in the name of "preserving" the physical, geographical features that make Scott County "unique." Then when they've ruined whatever we have in the way of a community, they can sell our lovely scenery to China, or whatever may be left of Europe, or whoever else may be the highest bidder.

Is there a way to stop this? There is, but it won't be popular with welfare cheats or their enablers. I have a name for it: "Not a thread nor a shoe latchet." Just say no to the funding. Force those who want to re-colonize Scott County to fight for it. Force those who want to be part of our community and its decisions to invest in Scott County, in a legitimate fair-trade-based way, before they can whisper a hint.

Do we have enough common sense and fortitude to do this? I'm not optimistic. Then again, the Cherokee Nation had good reasons not to be optimistic in the early nineteenth century...and yet...here I am, within an hour's walk from the border point where that ancestral Reid from Scotland married that ancestral member of the Ani Godagewi who was commemorated (via mistranslation) by changing the family name to "Reed." My family can say no to "funding" for "programs" and "projects." Can yours?

Morgan Griffith's Office Hours

One year, this web site received and posted Congressman Griffith's "Travelling Office Hours" for the month of July, in response to some Tea Party types who sent out e-mails asking people "Where's your Congressman?" We've not done this every year. We will, however, note that residents of Scott and Wise Counties who want to talk live to someone from our Congressman's office still have time to do that.

"

July 19, 2016

Carroll County:   10:00 am – 12:00 pm
Carroll County Administration Building
Board of Supervisors Room
605 – 1 Pine Street
Hillsville, VA

Floyd County:   2:00 pm – 4:00 pm
Floyd Town Hall
134 Wilson Street
Floyd, VA

July 20, 2016

Henry County:   10:00 am – 12:00 pm
Bassett Historical Society
3964 Fairystone Parkway
Bassett, VA

Bland County:   10:00 am – 12:00 pm
Bland County Courthouse
Admin. Office Room 200
612 Main Street
Bland, VA

Wythe County:   2:00 pm – 4:00 pm
Wythe County Sheriff’s Office
Conference Room
245 South 4th Street
Wytheville, VA

Patrick County:   2:00 pm – 4:00 pm
Patrick County Administration Building
Conference Room
106 Rucker Street
Stuart, VA

July 21, 2016

Alleghany County:   10:00 am – 12:00 pm
Clifton Forge Library
Conference Room
535 Church Street
Clifton Forge, VA

Scott County:   10:00 am – 12:00 pm
Community Services Building
Community Room
190 Beech Street
Gate City, VA

Roanoke County:   2:00 pm – 4:00 pm
Roanoke Library Hollins Branch
6624 Peters Creek Road
Roanoke, VA

Wise County:   2:00 pm – 4:00 pm
Big Stone Gap Federal Courthouse
3rd Floor Room 303
322 Wood Avenue E
Big Stone Gap, VA

** Please contact the Christiansburg Office at 540-381-5671 

or the Abingdon Office at 276-525-1405 with any questions.

"

Tim Kaine's Staff Live in Dungannon

During offline periods, I have fun, but I miss a lot of the news. Can youall believe I'm just now reading about the Orlando disaster? Yes. Anyway, this e-mail from the office of Senator Kaine came in just after I logged off last week. Those who want to talk to his staff face to face may still have time to drive to Dungannon now.

"

As Senator, I want to ensure that my staff and constituent services are as accessible as possible to all Virginians. That's why we hold "Kaine Connects" office hours across the Commonwealth so you can meet one-on-one with members of my staff, ask questions and get assistance on issues of concern in your hometown.

On Tuesday, June 14, 2016, my staff will host Kaine Connects office hours at the Old Depot in Dungannon. My staff will be available from 2:00 PM to 4:00 PM. I encourage you to RSVP by clicking here for the point of contact, but walk in appointments are also honored.

Although I can't be there in person, this is a terrific opportunity to get personalized and undivided attention from my staff.

Scott County Old Depot
18933 Veternas Memorial Highway
Dungannon, VA 24245
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
2:00 PM - 4:00 PM

For more information on upcoming Kaine Connects, click here. 

"

Tomorrow: Kaine Connects in Duffield

This is the first time I've actually opened my own web site all week, Gentle Readers, as distinct from scheduling the daily book post. It's practically impossible to use my e-mail on this computer, the Sickly Snail; Yahoo's latest bells and whistles freeze this computer for a minute or more between every single blasted mouse click. So, with due apologies, some other correspondents' content will show up when I'm at a more functional computer. Due to the timing, this note from Senator Tim Kaine needs to show up now--should've been posted on Monday, if I'd been here on Monday.

From U.S. Senator Tim Kaine: 

"

As Senator, I want to ensure that my staff and constituent services are as accessible as possible to all Virginians. That's why we hold "Kaine Connects" office hours across the Commonwealth so you can meet with members of my staff, ask questions and get assistance in your hometown.

On Thursday, June 25, a member of my staff will host Kaine Connects office hours at the LENOWISCO Planning District Commission in Duffield. My staff will be available from 3:00 PM to 4:30 PM. I encourage you to make an appointment by clicking here for the point of contact, but you are always welcome to stop by.

LENOWISCO Planning District Commission
372 Technology Trail Ln Suite 101
Duffield, VA 24244

For more information on upcoming Kaine Connects, click here.

Sincerely,

Senator Tim Kaine "

Book/Record Reaction: Music of Coal

Reading and Listening to Music of Coal

        
Author/producer: Jack Wright 

Date: 2007 

Publisher: Lonesome Pine Office on Youth (www.lpoy.org)

ISBN: none, but click here to see it on Amazon

Length: 68 pages (book), over 2 hours (recorded music)

Quote: “Few occupational traditions...have inspired more songs than coal.”)

        
Music of Coal was one new album of music I wanted to listen to, and review, when it came out. I didn’t, because the music was published on CD’s only. I bought LPs and LP players, cassettes and cassette players, and then I took a vow that I wasn’t going to spend any more money on yet another musical gimmick whose manufacturer wouldn’t even be able to make routine repairs on the thing ten years later. So I had to wait for someone whose new car came with a CD player to find this album and share it with a car pool, while we were driving through some of the scenery photographed in the book. It was quite a thought-provoking experience.

        
This document was meant to inform readers and listeners more than to entertain them. Two hours of coal mine songs, many of which were written to report bad news, can become depressing. Some of the songs were written by miners who say they like their jobs; probably most of them mean they like being able to live close to their rural roots, but Merle Travis famously had another explanation: “It will form as a habit...like a drunkard his wine, a man will have lust for the lure of the mine.” 

        
Here are the thoughts I noted while reading and listening:

       
1. The album begins with “Down in a coal mine, underneath the ground,” and mentions that this was a British song that came to the U.S. via vaudeville theatre. The version on the album was performed by the Edison Orchestra, as a march, and includes only the chorus (there were five verses). Coal mine bosses were known to have organized brass bands, which presumably would have imitated this performance, but the record doesn’t include any of them.

        
2. A picture of Lancashire pit lasses does not belong next to the song by Sara and Maybelle Carter. Women had no place in the Virginia mines until the 1970s, when some women imagined that working in coal mines would be “liberating.” Originally the intention of banning all females from all coal mines was to end the abuse of women and children, as documented in British coal mines, where smaller workers were sometimes wanted but were expected to work harder for lower wages. As mining became more mechanized, some bosses continued to refuse to hire women out of fear that sooner or later some male laborer would make either a joke or a flirtatious “pass” at a woman, who would claim to have been insulted, and there’d be a fight. There are legends of cross-dressing women who worked in Virginia coal mines in the early twentieth century; I have not seen documentation.

        
3. Nimrod Workman claimed that water seeped into the mine and “I...come outside and my clothes would be wet...and they would freeze into ice. My wife would build up a fire and it would take me a time to get my clothes thawed up to where I could get them off.” Is this possible? Yes. Coal miners adapted to constant 55-degree damp by wearing lots of layers. If the inside layers of clothing are thick and sturdy, the outside layers can freeze without the person being frostbitten. Kentucky, like Virginia, does have days like that, though not in every year.

        
4. All coal miners were black; according to photos some of the coal camps were so well integrated that it’s hard to tell which miners were Black, underneath the coal dust, and which were White. There are practically no African-Americans in coal communities today. I once commented on this to one of the older generation in Appalachia and was told, “There used to be some Black people around here. I suppose they’ve all moved away...don’t remember the last time I saw any of them.”

5. A photo-op showing Franklin D. Roosevelt allegedly greeting a miner, whose face looks black, is interesting. FDR is beaming and reaching out to shake someone’s hand. So is the miner. They do not, however, appear to be reaching toward each other’s hands.

        
6. Apart from the vintage of the cars in a picture from about 1950, Main Street in Appalachia hasn’t changed much.

        
7. Around her 70^th birthday, Jean Ritchie’s voice had only grown higher and sweeter than ever. Her rendition of “The L&N Don’t Stop Here Any More” was still fine.

        
8. Many early coal mining songs were composed, sung, and sponsored by the unions, which later became as corrupt as the bosses the unions had been formed to fight. Some unions were led by Socialists and, while their party was overt and legal, by Communists. Sure enough, this album contains a song in which folk singers attempt, without much success, to berate “the dirty capitalist system” in two-part harmony. Nobody's heard that on the radio.

        
9. The photo of the widow and four orphans Fisher, of Kentucky, taken after Tommy Fisher and 24 other men died in 1943, will remind some readers of Neil Gaiman’s Coraline. Were their eyes all dilated by some drug they’d been given “for the shock”? Did someone poke holes in the original snapshot with a pin?

        
10. Carter Stanley’s performance of “Daddy Don’t Go to the Mines” is here remixed with harmony by his daughter, Jeannie, who was four years old when he died. You can tell she’s spent a lot of time singing along with the records he left her.

        
11. The car in which I was listening to the CD's passed the ruins of a settlement called Derby. According to this book, it was the site of an explosion in 1934; seventeen miners dead, 74 trapped underground for hours (they nearly had to swim out). A broadside verse was composed shortly afterward, but not recorded until 2006. A note on a copy of the lyrics said that it was composed to the tune “Picture on the Wall.” I never heard the story or the song. A major news event in Wise County was not necessarily of much interest in Scott County. This has not changed.

        
12. Billy Edd Wheeler claims that he’s seldom able to sing his song of coal-camp nostalgia: “It’s been a long time since I’ve been home, but I’m not going back soon...The town’s all gone, it’s gone away. The people are straw the wind has blown away...How could anybody know that the next year or so, We would all be traveling over mountain and plain, Tryin’ to plant our roots again.” The coal camps have disappeared. A friend of my mother’s, one of the lucky coal-camp children who’d married well and found something better than the Bonny Blue coal camp where she was born, wanted to show Mother where she’d grown up; they weren’t even allowed to drive past the site of her home. 

        
13. Ron Short claims that in West Virginia miners who wore red bandanas, who fought in an armed rebellion against mine “operators” and eventually federal troops, were called “rednecks” and made that name a term of pride. I never heard that story either.

        
14. “Sixteen Tons” was first recorded by Merle Travis, then made a hit by Ernie Ford, but on this record it’s performed by some youngster called Ned Beatty. His version passes over the original first verse, “Some people say a man is made out of mud. A poor man is made out of muscle and blood,” to focus on the reason why a Gate City man might have to take a job in a mine: “I was born one mornin’ it was drizzlin’ rain. Fightin’ and trouble are my middle name.” In communities closer to the mines, a coal mine might have been among the first places a young man looked for a job, but in my home town the mines were where a man went if he was really desperate...as it might be because he had a record for "fightin' and trouble."

        
15. By and large the book that accompanies the albums manages to remember that Appalachia is one town, and there are others. Nevertheless, on page 51: “A.J. Roach...speaks from his roots in Appalachia. Raised in the hollows of Scott County, Virginia...” Appalachia is in Wise County.

        
16. A.J. Roach’s song is entitled “Black Lung.” It makes me wonder why no miner photographed in work gear, in this book, has a face mask. 

        
17. And I’m not sure in what part of Scott County A.J. Roach’s grandfather “was—like most men in my area of Virginia—a coal miner.” Wise and Lee County men were coal miners. Scott County had an active coal mine in the early half of the twentieth century, but even while it existed that mine never employed most of the men even in one town. Roach is not a Gate City name so my guess would be that this grandfather lived somewhere closer to the coal mines. Possibly he was from Appalachia.

        
18. In 1992, deep in a mine outside Norton, some idiot lighted a cigarette. “Many of his co-workers might have survived if that small explosion hadn’t kicked up a  cloud of coal dust that also ignited...and the fireball that developed spread to every part of the mine at about 600 m.p.h...Coal companies are cited for dust violations far more often than any other problem.” Hmph. What about violations of laws against smoking in other people’s place of employment?!

        
19. Some kid from East Tennessee State University made up a song about a disaster in the Coeburn mine: “Twenty men saw their Maker’s face.” There was no disaster in the Coeburn mine. The compilers of this album wanted the song, and apparently were able to get it cheaper than either of the authentic versions of “Sixteen Tons,” so they went to the trouble of digging up the detail that another mine, “about three miles from Coeburn,” had two explosions, in 1907 and 1910, and a total of nineteen miners were killed. Hmph, again.

        

20. Between 2005, when Jack Wright and friends started compiling this book and record, and 2007, when Music of Coal was published, 64 miners died in the U.S. alone. In China, it was reported that 4746 miners died in 2006 alone. There is still (although that song is not included in this collection) blood on the coal.

As documented in this collection, some people still work in coal mines, and still want to. Some people speculate, "They wouldn't do well in other jobs." Some coal miners have, like our inactive member Adayahi, done quite well in other jobs. There are no easy answers, but this collection may provide as much emotional insight into the situation as most of us are ever going to get. People who belong here will do, and do without, a lot of things in order to stay here.

Music of Coal was originally sold as a fundraiser for charity, and its value has gone up not down since its release. This web site will offer it as a Fair Trade Book (with CD's). The best price we can offer will be $80 for the set + $5 for shipping, and if you send that amount to salolianigodagewi @ yahoo.com we'll send the Lonesome Pine Office on Youth $8.50. 

Blazing Daze in Duffield, Virginia

About a year ago I posted on my Blogspot that I'd been "Dazed in Duffield." For those who don't remember, Duffield is the name of a town where many people in my part of the world have worked, and Duffield Daze is the name of the annual Town Festival where these people get together to catch up, listen to music, buy and sell junk, trade or just admire antique cars, and occasionally succumb to heat exhaustion.

Last year, I hadn't felt likely to succumb to heat exhaustion, but my face must have been showing some effects of the heat because an old acquaintance mistook me for my mother.

Well...last Saturday was very warm and humid, and I didn't have a lot of money to throw around and seriously considered giving Duffield Daze a miss this year. Then at the last minute someone called and invited me to fill an empty seat in a car. I walked out to meet this car. I kept walking, because I find walking easier to tolerate than standing. I walked for an hour and a half. This car had an empty seat in it because some dear old person was ill, and the person's young relative, who was driving, wasn't feeling very good either.

Needless to say, we missed the parade. We heard a passable live band playing Nashville-type music. We saw the antique cars. They are always a sight. The company that sponsors antique car shows in this part of the world frowns on "garage princesses" and encourages prizes to be awarded to old cars that are still actually rolling around on local roads, at least once or twice a year. Some of these cars are sixty or eighty years old, and sometimes their shells really are about to fall apart, but if you're on the road before the car show you'll see them actually running on the highway.

A Chamber of Commerce booth was handing out free styrofoam cups of ice-cold water. I took a cup with me as I walked around the field where vendors were lined up around the children's rides and inflatable "bounce house." The sun was blazing through the steamy air by now. Vendors were sitting under shades, fanning themselves.

The next to last vendor on the last row was Tree and Tra. Both of them and another helper were doing a brisk trade, mostly in one-dollar and two-dollar souvenir items, sitting under their shade with their iced drinks.

As I approached their booth I heard an older couple, who were the very last vendor on the row, talking about going for cold water. This couple had tried to economize. They had set their wares, just yard sale stuff, out on a table in the sun, and they were sitting in their truck with the doors open. I saw the man head off toward the water dispensers, and then I saw the woman collapse on the seat of the truck. She was taken to the hospital in Kingsport by helicopter. The word went around that she had had a heart attack.

The Scott County Life Saving Crew now have a helicopter to rush people to the hospital in. I have mixed feelings about this helicopter. Last winter the Cat Sanctuary's oldest volunteer, Oogesti, became ill while walking up the road above the Cat Sanctuary. When I found him he thought he'd be fine if he rested a few minutes; a few minutes passed, a neighbor came out to check on him, and Oogesti consented to let the Life Saving Crew be called. They sent for their helicopter. Another neighbor came out to see if she could do anything, and she and I drove to the hospital while Oogesti and the young men checking his vital signs flew...and I waited at the hospital for nineteen minutes before the helicopter landed. I think the helicopter is like other expensive luxuries. People are tempted to use these things when it would be more practical to use something simpler, just to justify the expense of having the luxuries.

Anyway, if residents of Scott County talk about having seen black helicopters, these days, they probably have. The Life Saving Crew's rescue chopper is painted in a combination of colors seldom found in nature. NASCAR fans of a certain age might be reminded of Dale Jarrett's car. The helicopter is almost a fluorescent green above, and true, glossy black below.

Sobered by the old lady's accident, but confident that she was in good hands, the rest of the crowd went on with the festival. I accepted an invitation to explore a new bookstore with a man who...since small-town types don't recognize that men and women can be friends, unless they're related, I'm glad to be able to tell them is some sort of distant cousin. I'm not sure exactly how distant, but people usually guess he's my brother, by looking at us. He is almost exactly two years older than I am. He is not the eldest child in his family. He had nearly lost an uncle on Friday and, on Saturday, was stressed and frazzled.

So he and I went into this bookstore, which deserves a Bubble all to itself, and someone coming into the store out of the bright sun looked at me and said, "Oh, you were with [his name], weren't you...are you his mother?"

I may never go to Duffield Daze again...

Justice for Jason Byrns (Who Tried to Kill Jamie Lawson)

Not exactly news any more, but since overseas readers didn't see it in the newspaper, this web site officially reacts to the last installment in the Jamie Lawson story.

On June 21, the Kingsport Times-News' front-page report of Jason Byrns' trial might have been intended to provoke reactions: "A Tennessee man...failed to have his sentence reduced Friday during a hearing in Scott County (Virginia) court. Jason T. Byrns, 33, of Kingsport, appeared in court after filing a motion to have his 60-year prison sentence reduced on the grounds the punishment was too harsh."

Well, just for the exercise, we could try it the other way round. "Hypothetical J. Doe, of Gate City (Virginia), appeared in the Kingsport court..." Or "H.J. Doe, of Gate City, appeared in the Scott County court..." Or "H.J. Doe, of Kingsport, appeared in the Kingsport court..." Or whatever jurisdictions you care to name. This web site maintains that Byrns was stupid even to bother filing the motion.

We are talking about a drug dealer who was apparently trying to evade arrest, conviction, and most likely a fine and a week or a month in jail when he crossed the Virginia line and found a police roadblock waiting for him there. Apparently guided by some sort of inner demons, Byrns stomped the gas pedal and roared into Scott County as fast as his vehicle would go, deliberately swerving to intimidate pedestrians, fellow motorists, and five other traffic officers. State Trooper Jamie Lawson had been assigned the duty of stopping Byrns, and Byrns rammed Lawson's police car seven times, at speeds estimated to be between 50 and 70 miles per hour (in a residential neighborhood), before he finally shoved the police car into another vehicle parked beside the road. Lawson spent weeks in an expensive specialized hospital unit; the partial disability resulting from damage to his spine is expected to be permanent.

Too harsh, he whined? I know a few Kingsport men who might be persuaded to teach Byrns what "harsh" means...There is no serious dispute that anyone who would rather commit murder than pay a fine should be kept off the streets for as long as there is any chance of his attempting to operate a motor vehicle. Sixty years, starting from age 33, sounds about right. The question is whether the taxpayers can reasonably be asked to feed something like Byrns for sixty years.

On the purely theoretical assumption that, although the Times-News hasn't mentioned it, Byrns may have a relative somewhere who is praying that Byrns may be capable of some sort of spiritual experience, revival, rehabilitation, the development of a human mind that understands why it's better to spend a few weeks in jail than it is to commit murder, the law does require the taxpayers of Virginia to feed Jason Byrns for up to sixty years. There might be some reasonable debate about whether that is "too harsh."

Jamie Lawson was trying to protect people from a homicidal maniac, and he may never "walk free" from pain again. If Jason Byrns never walks out from behind the razor-wire fence again, it appears to me that, to the extent that humans are capable of doing justice, justice has been done.

Morgan Griffith on National Forest Land

More from Congressman Griffith's E-Newsletter:

"

Trees for Schools – An Update

Over a century ago, the federal government promised rural communities that it would actively manage forest land to the communities’ benefit, historically sharing around 25 percent of revenues from timber harvests with rural counties that contain National Forest Land.  This money could be used in lieu of revenue these communities might otherwise have received from property taxes if the land were not owned by the federal government, and could be used to fund schools, teachers, police officers, etc.  Recipients of these funds within the Ninth District of Virginia include the following counties: Alleghany, Bland, Carroll, Craig, Dickenson, Giles, Grayson, Lee, Montgomery, Pulaski, Roanoke, Scott, Smyth, Tazewell, Washington, Wise, and Wythe.

Due to federal regulations and environmental lawsuits, however, the Forest Service over the years has reduced the amount of federal forest land being timbered.  In my opinion, this not only has destroyed jobs and deprived rural communities of needed revenue, but also is poor forest management, making the land more susceptible to invasive species and wildfires.  Tragically, the House Natural Resources Committee states that wildfires burned 9.3 million acres last year alone.

Badly needed is a long-term solution to improve forest health and management, fulfill the federal government’s promise to rural communities, and grow jobs.  To that end, the House Natural Resources Committee over the last several months has worked to advance H.R. 1526, the Restoring Healthy Forests for Healthy Communities Act.  This legislation would promote responsible timber production, improve state and local involvement, and restore the federal government’s commitment to rural communities.  This should mean more money for Southwest Virginia localities.

I am an original cosponsor of this legislation, which recently passed the House with my support.  Similar legislation recently passed the Senate.  I will continue monitoring the progress of this legislation, and working to promote healthier forests and get residents of the Ninth District’s rural communities back to work.

As always, if you have questions, concerns, or comments, feel free to call my Abingdon office at 276-525-1405 or my Christiansburg office at 540-381-5671.  To reach my office by email, please visit my website at www.morgangriffith.house.gov."

Comment from PK: Do I have questions and concerns? Mercy. I have so many questions and concerns that I can't see any way to learn enough to make an intelligent comment. Will other Virginians please, please, please pick up this one?

Dazed in Duffield (With Update)

So I went to Duffield Daze, as promised, and came home feeling...dazed.

It was a nice little Town Festival offering good clean fun. Kids bouncing and squeaking in the inflatable Bounce House. Smells of frying funnel cakes and baking pizzas and sizzling burgers. Brass-heavy marching bands. Sizzling sun. Kids wandering around whimpering "Mom," mothers dashing around calling kids' names. Old friends catching up on the news. Old acquaintances who weren't really friends fencing with lethal verbal weapons. Token prizes given to fundraisers for churches and charities. Fire engines. Republicans. Lots and lots of Shriners. Giant pumpkins, friendly farm animals, fudge and souvenir T-shirts.

I wanted to go to at least the Saturday morning parade, the Friday night street dance, and one or two of the Saturday afternoon concerts. My preference would of course have been to go with my Significant Other, if the usual problem-child problems hadn't come up. They did. Going with my old Duffield flea market partner seemed even more likely to be problematic, since he's pushing age ninety by now. Duffield Daze is largely for and about senior citizens. The big awning and chairs provided for them are close to the parade judges' stand. And it wasn't really all that hot; one of those days when it's not the heat, it's the humidity. Nevertheless...

I went to the Friday night street dance with a relative. I thought that in a Baptist-dominated community a street dance might be amusing. You know the old joke about the Baptist couple who started kissing, and one of them pulled away and said, "Sit down! Somebody might think we're dancing!" In real life, little kids hop and skip around, and the adults tap their feet, wave their fans, and occasionally even sway with the beat--just a little bit--always providing that you can't tell for sure whether they're holding a coin between their knees. Seventh-Day Adventists, such as Grandma Bonnie Peters, march to toe-tapping tunes, and I would've enjoyed the dance more if people had marched. Nobody did. A few young ladies rocked their babies to the beat.

In previous years I watched the Saturday morning parade from the front of the building that used to house the indoor flea market, where I used to have a booth. This year I thought it would be fun to stand out on the street and try to snap a few pictures. I quickly abandoned this idea because every time I took out the digital camera somebody threw candy at me. Then when I was not holding up a camera, some people in the parade all but said out loud, "What's an adult doing, standing on the street like the children begging for candy." People on one float made a point of throwing candy at the children and souvenir pens and pencils at the adults on the street. People on a couple of other floats made a point of turning their backs to me and a few other adults as they threw candy to kids on the other side of the street. I didn't see any adults asking for candy, although I saw adults picking up what was thrown at us, and didn't see a lot of candy left on the street for the horses to step on. I did get the impression that some of the most interesting people in the parade didn't want to be photographed, so I respected their preferences.

Also standing in photo-snapping range was a gentleman from Clinchport, who may not look as old as my parents, but is. He and his wife also used to work at the Duffield flea market. He and I waved, but didn't speak, because I could just imagine his wife sitting in the shade, hearing that this man was down on the street talking to another woman. He was standing about ten yards away from me. So of course, around the middle of the parade, a smart aleck who shall be nameless here walked past me and ostentatiously handed him three favors. Good clean small-town joking, except that my experience with 70-year-old women has given me an impression that none of them ever thinks that sort of joke is funny. I have to say that the man from Clinchport had done nothing to deserve that.

Well, the most interesting person in the parade (sorry, Republicans) was Marshal Sabrina Holland. What's interesting about her is that she has lived for forty years with spina bifida. People my age and older learned the phrase "spina bifida" as implying "not likely to live even ten years, or want to," so although those who keep up with medical news knew that this is no longer necessarily true, the existence of an adult with spina bifida in Scott County was a source of surprise and wonderment to many. I'll admit that I wanted to snap a photo of her, and her friends and supporters seemed to want me not to snap one.

The parade included all the standard features. Veterans, R.O.T.C., beauty queens, high school bands, fire engines, horses--fewer horses than I'd expected in rural Virginia. At least three separate Shrines contributed fundraising acts featuring clowns, bagpipes, and stunt vehicles. Two or three dozen antique cars and trucks, including a solid-rust farm truck with a sign advising people to honk if anything fell off, were actually driven through the parade to the bank that hosted the antique car show.

In some years there have been Democratic Party floats. This year there was only a Republican Party float, and I have to admit I didn't clearly see the Republicans on board. I recognized the Kilgores, of course, because they were marching beside the float and handing out miniature coal buckets as souvenirs. This made it harder to focus on less familiar faces farther away. A sign on the side of the float said "Obenshain," but whether it was identifying Candidate Obenshain as present, or merely expressing support for his campaign, I still don't know.

Some people think the most interesting part of a parade are the floats and acts that advertise churches and charities. The "Rolling Thunder" motorcycle club rode slowly, and relatively quietly, in formation. The Lee Smith Singers were on a float, encouraging people to sing along with old familiar gospel songs. Some unimaginative floats represented schools and teams by simply hauling a few students through the parade; a group of cheerleaders did at least demonstrate a simple cheer while they sat in the sun. A prize was awarded to an "Autism Awareness" float that featured two giant jigsaw puzzle pieces that didn't fit together. One church float portrayed Moses in the bulrushes (a cute little girl holding a doll) and one portrayed Jesus calming the storm (a boy in what looked like a recycled Halloween witch's wig).

A well-earned prize went to the Speers Ferry church, who portrayed the act of giving cups of water to people in Christ's name. They enacted this corporal work of mercy so diligently that I think everybody who was in town got at least two little bottles of chilled water. It's entirely possible that this stunt might have averted a heart attack somewhere in the crowd.

An act that garnered lots of laughs and popular support was a hunting club whose members rode all-terrain vehicles, apparently chasing a "Deer With Attitude," which was of course a man in an inflatable costume. Since they came near the end of the parade, I cut through the crowd and reached the shelter in time to see the Deer With Attitude pretending to charge at other paraders. This has been known to happen when adorable little fawns grow up into adult male deer without a healthy fear of humans, and shows why we should never try to make pets of deer.

However, instead of watching the prize winners I started looking for my old flea market partner. He did not seem to be sitting with friends, reminiscing, as I'd expected. He was sitting at the end of a row of chairs and was no longer even in the shade. He and I got up and bought snacks. We found a couple of seats side by side in the shade, but as two older ladies were moving toward the seats, neither of us felt like sitting down. We remained standing, the ladies paused to make full eye contact as they conversed, and a couple of middle school kids plopped down in the chairs.

Due to his hearing loss my buddy didn't mind sitting in the shade by himself while an excessively amplified band performed. I found it easier to enjoy the music while wandering around among the vendors' booths. No restrictions had been applied to the vendors, although charity fundraisers, artists and crafters, and flea market booths had been grouped separately. Having been supplied with a few dollars for the express purpose of encouraging vendors and charities, I spread them around, made a few donations, and scored some vintage goodies. I was thinking of my Significant Other: I spent more money on vintage hardware than on vintage books.

Then I realized that, although it was a nice Town Festival as Town Festivals go, this Saturday was not going to be my day, when I ran into one of my sisters' little friends. Of course I didn't recognize her; she's all grown up. And although she salvaged herself by exhibiting total confusion about which member of the clan I might be, her first guess was that I might be...my mother!

Right...I had been out in the heat for four hours. My extended family includes several black-haired beauties who look enough alike to confuse people we've not seen for twenty years. Most people, I suppose, try to err on the side of flattery and guess that the one they're talking to is one of the younger and prettier members of the family. In my mid-forties I don't really try to look twenty-one any more, although some people claim, in more pleasant weather, that I do. And my mother is often described by comparison with Elizabeth Taylor, and kept her black hair and youthful face for a remarkably long time. But I really don't believe that, even on a hot day, I look...seventy-eight?

So I went home, feeling dazed.

...That was how I intended to end this post when I started typing it last week. Yes, it really has taken me a week to type this report, in between reading, answering, and sharing yourall's e-mail and now apparently another hacking. It's not been a very nice week, either. Some sort of little "summer cold" has been going around. When hardier people don't notice a minor disease going around at all, and less healthy people get pneumonia and go to the hospital, I become peevish and pessimistic...and you should all be glad I didn't post the other things I was thinking. Grandma Bonnie Peters has been diagnosed with "walking pneumonia," Oogesti has spent some days home in bed, one sponsor spent the whole weekend home in bed, and now that I know I'm an immune carrier I've been avoiding Adayahi...e-friends are the only friends with whom I've been in contact all week. Let's hope this coming week will be more pleasant.

UPDATE: Because this post reflects, among other things, my concern about whether the sponsor who went to Duffield Daze with me had a good time, this person wants me to mention that he says it was the most fun he's had all summer.

Serious Fun at Duffield Daze

In efforts to encourage the right sort of tourism, the towns in the western tip of Virginia are investing increasing amounts of ingenuity in Town Festivals.

Our U.S. readers--who aren't even a solid majority this week, according to the computer, but I trust that means that a lot of you are enjoying vacations from the Internet--seem awfully concerned about politics. About 75% of the e-mail we get consists of political alerts, petitions, and an occasional outburst of "Throw'em all out" from someone who's just too disgruntled to come up with a positive plan of his own. All this passionate political intensity is valuable during actual campaigns, but I have to wonder whether some correspondents ever rest. Constant agitating may be harmful to your health. Some correspondents sound downright hypertensive.

So for these correspondents, may I remind you that politics has its lighter side. Community activity does not always involve marching or demonstrating or writing fervent letters. It also involves doing some sort of useful work, however profitable it may or may not be, that keeps you and any children you may have off welfare. And it also involves using your influence on the community, however large or small that may be, by supporting your neighbors when you agree that what they are doing is good and public-spirited. It does, seriously, involve shopping at local businesses when you're ready to buy something. And it does involve enjoying Town Festivals. Wave and smile at acquaintances, buy T-shirts, cheer at parades...these things are part of the civic duties of citizens as well as politicians.

Gate City has had a major annual Town Festival since at least the 1970s, although the official name, the timing, and the focus of celebration are in a process of transition. (My parents used to support the Tobacco Festival, halfheartedly; I wouldn't mind supporting a celebration of football games and tailgate parties, which is what we're trying to shift toward, but I can't imagine celebrating anything that involves beer.) Kingsport's Fun Fest started in the 1980s. Duffield Daze started one year later; Nickelsville's festival is a new thing.

This year, Nickelsville's festival fell on a weekend when I wasn't feeling festive, and Kingsport's Fun Fest caught so much rain that it was hard to imagine anybody feeling festive...so it's pleasant to report clear signals for Duffield Daze.

Duffield, Virginia, was originally a rural neighborhood a little too far away to be part of Clinchport. In the late twentieth century Duffield built up an "Industrial Park" with a few factories and office buildings. After the 1977 flood, Clinchport shrank down to a riverfront park lined with a few houses and bait shops, and the post office moved to Duffield, but most of the people who get mail through the Duffield post office don't live in the town itself. Although the "Industrial Park" is still growing and still offers day jobs to a few hundred people who do and don't live in Duffield, the town claims only 91 full-time residents. This population count increases by over 1000% during Duffield Daze, when students' groups, veterans' groups, social clubs, and relatives of members of these, along with people who work in Duffield and people who used to live or work there, converge on the town.

There is plenty of room for all these visitors. Duffield has always had a lot of green space. During Duffield Daze a few acres of green space are covered with amusement park rides, open-air vendors, and street dances, but this leaves plenty of space for people to stroll around. People need to stroll around, to shift between listening to well-amplified outdoor concerts and conversing with old acquaintances.

Duffield used to have quite a nice indoor flea market, where I used to work. An effort to liven up the market by piping in commercial radio may have made the market more entertaining for a few retirees who weren't concerned about paying their rent so much as just hanging out together, but it demonstrably reduced the number of actual shoppers, so those of us who needed to pay our rent from actual sales found it necessary to move on. A few years later, when the retirees really retired, the building closed. Oh, well...it was fun, and it's fun to go back and reminisce during Duffield Daze. There is still some chance that some of those retirees will be able to come out for the occasion.

So this year I will definitely be at Duffield Daze; the question is, at which events, with which sponsors of this web site. I mention this partly because Duffield is such a small town...yes, my Significant Other has been a sponsor, and may be one of the sponsors with whom I'll be seen this weekend, but this web site is not just a personal blog and my attendance of events won't be just personal dates. I may go to some things with other men (yes, they're relatives); I may go to some things with women. Either way, business and politics will be involved, even though the primary purpose of Duffield Daze is good clean wholesome fun.

T-shirts? Meh...this year's official Duffield Daze T-shirt is not my color, but if somebody buys me one I'll wear it. That is, after all, sort of the point. Kenny Fannon wouldn't like for me to describe supporting "his" festival as charity--that would be the Salvation Army, for which he's raised funds too--but it is about boosting the community's local economy. There's not a lot of room for chicanery in really small Town Festivals. You know which legitimate businesses are involved; you buy souvenirs in aid of the ones you respect.

"Businesses in a town with 91 permanent residents? That would be the convenience store, the bank, and...?" No, that's the funny thing about Duffield. What's based in the Industrial Park has changed from year to year but some nationally marketed products are made in Duffield, alongside the more local industries like the lumberyard (and a selection of convenience stores and fast-food outlets, 'cos all those laborers go out for lunch). Carhartt coveralls aren't, any more. Computers aren't, yet, although that's been planned and discussed for years. Tempur-Pedic mattresses are made in Duffield.

Grandma Bonnie Peters Goes to Nickelsville UPDATE

Over the weekend Nickelsville, Virginia, had a Town Festival. A parade, with floats and marching bands. Multiple concerts. Benefit bingo games. Outdoor craft market. Door prizes from here to Knoxville.

I said to Grandma Bonnie Peters, who is a grandma and almost but not quite old enough to be mine, "We ought to go to this and write about it...if only because I wailed last winter about how dangerous the Copper Creek Bridge was, and people out there in cyberspace need to know that the bridge has been repaired and is quite safe now. Just a little bit, well, thrilling. But at least it has two lanes, no snow, and the pavement has been resurfaced."

"That needs to be on the Internet," she agreed. "But do we really want to spend three days at a Town Festival?"

I agreed that maybe three days of a Town Festival was more for kids, or couples, or maybe tourists, than for people who had Real Jobs to do. In a write-up I drafted but did not post here, I'd noted that you could spend most of all three "Nickelsville Days" being entertained in Nickelsville, if you really wanted to. Starting, of course, with Friday Market in Gate City, you could then move on to Friday Afternoon Market in Nickelsville. Between the towns, you'd want to make a brief detour to take in the Creation Kingdom Zoo. (Fair disclosure: the web page didn't work for me just now as well as GBP said it worked for her.) Then in the evening the concerts would begin, and then on Saturday morning you'd go to the picnic breakfast, parade, and so on. But how much would you need to be paid to spend three whole days being entertained?

Well, I had a couple of jobs to wrap up on Friday, thanks just the same. However, some children GBP knows in Tennessee got hold of this itinerary, and on Friday they turned up in GBP's driveway, with their mother, demanding a local guide to the Zoo.

"So where is the write-up?" I said.

"My computer isn't working and my hand still gets tired easily and I had my Real Job to do," GBP said, "but we liked the Zoo. It was almost like visiting a farm, only with more unusual animals. The kids have been to Knoxville," which foreign readers may not know is a city known for its zoo, "and they liked the Creation Kingdom Zoo. They have a web site where you can see pictures of all the animals."

As of today I can't, but I'll take her word for it.

UPDATE: Next day, same computer center, different terminal, the web site works fine. As a sample, here are the rules for a kid-friendly zoo...

"

It is our responsibility to make sure that all of our guests and residents remain safe at all times. Creation Kingdom Zoo is known for going the extra mile to make sure you get great views and photos while not making the animals uncomfortable. We respectfully ask that you follow these rules.

 

Never, ever trust Dexter the monkey. He is a total thief with no shame.

 

Do not tell Dexter where you live.

 

Never cross over any barrier to get closer to an animal.

 

Do not throw anything at the animals and this includes food.

 

No outside food or drinks will be alllowed in the habitat areas.

 

No drink straws are permitted.

 

Do not let small children stand on fences or go under them.

 

Rope barriers are not designed to hold weight. Do not sit on these.

 

Be sure to keep an eye on your little ones at all times.

 

Our zoo is set on terrain that is sloped. Please watch your step.

 

You may feel free to give designated animals food purchased at the gift shop.

 

Some animals may come close enough to touch. Do so at your own risk.

 

No outside animals are permitted in the zoo, other than approved service dogs.

 

Do not let the birds climb on you. They may steal from you and also bite.

 

Please place trash in designated containers.

 

Report any safety issues or rude guests to the staff at the front gate.

 

Have fun at all times or we will tell Dexter where you live.

"

Ride for Jamie Lawson: CCL Action Alert

Calling all Constitutional Civil Libertarians (my e-friends from Freedom Connector). You never have to do anything as a group, and I don't invite you to do anything as a group every year, but this is the sort of thing Constitutional Civil Libertarians will probably want to do.

Recap: Back in April, the sleepy Mayberry-like streets of Gate City, Virginia, were the scene of a real high-speed car chase as a drug dealer from Tennessee idiotically tried to evade local law enforcement. Having no idea where he was going, he almost trapped himself on a dead-end road, then went into rat-in-trap mode and tried to ram his way through the converging police cars as he headed back to Tennessee. He knocked a state police cruiser into a parked truck. Jamie Lawson was the State Trooper inside this cruiser. At last report Trooper Lawson was making good progress, but was still in pain, in an expensive hospital in Atlanta.

A local bank has been collecting donations to help the Lawson family, but some people wanted a livelier way to express their feelings about local police officers and out-of-state drug dealers. These people have scheduled a Benefit Ride for Jamie Lawson, to begin in the parking lot of Gate City High School at 2 p.m. on the second day of June. Police cars and motorcycles will be escorting a procession of private vehicles through Scott County. Riders will pay for tickets to win door prizes donated by local businesses. Drawings will be conducted, and door prizes distributed, along the way.

Specific information about routes and prizes remains undisclosed...partly because the list is growing. It should be quite a parade.

Since this web site does not generally recommend unnecessary use of motor vehicles, I want to affirm here that this web site thinks a Benefit Ride is a valid reason to drive. Of course, there's no reason to overdo things. I think we should get a van, or vans, or even a bus, and pack it. The more people in the fewer vehicles, the better.

The idea of hanging a sign identifying Constitutional Civil Libertarians on the back of a van has crossed my mind. That's as far as the idea can go, with me, since I don't own a van. As a statement this might call attention to the disparity between libertarians (who may think some laws should be revised, but think existing laws should be obeyed) and barbarians. If someone out there has a suitable van and would like to make this statement, let me know; I'll publicize the statement and, if you have room, ride in the van.

On Behalf of the American Policy Center

Patricia Evans shares e-mails from Tom DeWeese:

"UPDATE from Tom DeWeese, President American Policy Center http://americanpolicy.org/

We are succeeding in pushing the issue of Agenda 21 into the main stream of the political debate. And today, there are battles waging in every single state and almost every city and rural community. Local and county governments, city council members and county commissioners are taking steps to introduce legislation to stop Agenda 21 and Sustainable Development policies. And the planners, Nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) and self proclaimed “stakeholders” are pulling out all the big guns to defeat us and keep their strangle hold over our communities and private property.

Here’s just one example of a fire that American Policy Center helped to start and local activists have brought to victory.

This is the first time in the nation that a National Heritage Area has been stopped and local control preserved. This is a major victory!!!

• In southwest Virginia, local activists have won an astounding victory as they became the first in the nation to stop the establishment of a National Heritage Area (NHA). The Crooked Road NHA was to be enforced in 19 counties, with special interests being funded by the National Park Service, giving them power to trample on property rights and stop development of the area.

I traveled to this very rural area last year to speak against the NHA and to teach local activists how to fight back against this Agenda 21-- inspired corruption machine. Read "National Heritage Areas: The Land Grabs Continue" here http://americanpolicy.org/2012/10/11/national-heritage-areas-the-land-grabs-continue/ And it worked. Step by step, county by county, these active leaders stood up to powerful special interests and persuaded county governments to reject the Crooked Road NHA. Just days ago, the forces behind the effort announced that they were ending their drive to establish the NHA.

Please show our appreciation for all that Tom DeWeese and American Policy Center did in helping us win this battle!!! Please click here to make a contribution to APC. We must help keep this organization strong and working for us!

More from Tom DeWeese
President, American Policy Center

Just a couple of weeks ago I was released from the hospital and am now resting at home. I had emergency surgery on my stomach in an extremely rare condition. I was in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) listed as critical for four days.

The doctors tell me that it will be a couple of months before I am able to resume my full schedule of activities, including writing, travel and speaking, and radio and TV interviews.

Unfortunately I’ve been forced to cancel several speeches, including Maryland, Ohio, Arlington, Virginia, and Delaware. That hurts, because new battles have opened in all of those critical states. Activists are asking for my help to organize.

But my small, dedicated staff and I are doing the best we can to keep the American Policy Center’s (APC) vital programs running.

This is a critical time for APC and our battle to stop Agenda 21 and I urgently need your help – more than ever.

As you know, we are winning some battles around the nation as more and more Americans are becoming aware of Agenda 21 and its dangers.

Even as Republicans and Conservatives have lost battle after battle in Congress and in the courts, APC and those fighting Agenda 21 are scoring victories in our local communities and state legislatures.

After so many years of being ignored on the Agenda 21 issue, it’s amazing to see what is happening.

We are succeeding in pushing the issue of Agenda 21 into the main stream of the political debate.

And today, there are battles waging in every single state and almost every city and rural community.

And the planners, Nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) and self proclaimed “stakeholders” are pulling out all the big guns to defeat us and keep their strangle hold over our communities and private property.

Here’s just one example of a fire that APC helped to start and local activists have brought to victory.

• In South West Virginia, local activists have won an astounding victory as they became the first in the nation to stop the establishment of a National Heritage Area (NHA). The Crooked Road NHA was to be enforced in 19 counties, with special interests being funded by the National Park Service, giving them power to trample on property rights and stop development of the area.

I traveled to this very rural area last year to speak against the NHA and to teach local activists how to fight back against this Agenda 21-- inspired corruption machine. And it worked. Step by step, county by county, these active leaders stood up to powerful special interests and persuaded county governments to reject the Crooked Road NHA. Just days ago, the forces behind the effort announced that they were ending their drive to establish the NHA.
This is the first time in the nation that a NHA has been stopped and local control preserved. This is a major victory!!!

• At least ten state legislatures, including Nebraska, Washington, Michigan, Indiana, Virginia, Tennessee, and Maine have joined Alabama to pass state laws to stop the spread of Agenda 21. Some passed, some didn’t. But the battles are engaged and not going away!

• The same thing is happening in more and more local and county governments, where city council members and county commissioners are also taking steps to introduce legislation to stop Agenda 21 and Sustainable Development policies.

These are just a small sampling if the massive battles that are being waged in local communities across the nation.
In almost every case I have been directly or indirectly involved, providing assistance, suggestions for language and so forth. In other cases, the activists and elected officials are using APC materials to educate and organize opposition.
In the past month, APC has distributed almost 2,000 copies of our new booklet, “Agenda 21 and How to Stop It.” It is proving to be one of the most valuable tools we have ever designed in this fight.
Our extensive “Stop Agenda 21 Action Kit” is being used by several hundred activists. For example, one activist in Ohio used the kit to create a seminar to teach others about Agenda 21 and how to stop it.
And I can’t keep APC’s DVDs, flyers, and books in stock.
This is all the good news. I’m thrilled with such success. There is no denying that APC is the recognized leader in this battle. Everyone is looking to me to help them organize.
BUT………………………………
My hospitalization has cost APC dearly.
Not only has it slowed our momentum to create more tools for fighting back, it has taken me off the road and the air ways. Critical projects I was working on just before being stricken have been delayed.
But the worst part is this.
In my absence, APC’s vital funding has nearly dried up. I haven’t been there to oversee and guide our fund raising effort.
Right now, APC’s bank account is at the lowest level in our history. I must find a way to turn this around – and fast.
It’s bad enough that I am temporarily sidelined and unable to travel and speak, but to shut off or delay any of APC’s programs, right in the middle of the greatest successes in APC’s 26 year history, will be a disaster.
My small staff is hanging with me as best they can. But time is growing very short. I must turn this funding shortage around right away – or I fear disaster for APC.
This is an emergency. I have no one to turn to but you.
May I ask you to come to my aid with an emergency contribution today?
Please click here to make an emergency contribution to APC. It will give me the immediate funds I need to keep APC’s doors open and our vital programs running.
I know everyone is hurting in this economy. But APC is wining battles like no other group in the nation. We are the one bright spot in the battle against Obama and his oppressive Sustainable Development policies. We are winning on the local level.
But all of that could come to a crashing halt if APC is unable to continue.
Please, I couldn’t be more serious with you. My financial crisis is very real and could damage APC’s successful efforts to stop Agenda 21. Please help!
  Sincerely,
Tom DeWeese
President


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"Educate and inform the whole mass of the people. They are the only sure reliance for the preservation of our liberty." - Thomas Jefferson Virginia Tea Party Patriots www.virginiateapartypatriots.com Danville Patriots http://danvillepatriots.com/ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyqTlje8RxQ "