Thursday, June 9, 2022

The Last Time We Had A Constitutional Crisis

Tonight is the first night the investigation hearings into the coup attempt on January 6, 2021 will be televised on prime-time TV.  I am hoping to be able to watch the whole thing with TB.  The Rethuglicans have been doing back flips trying to spread false information, to distract and to deflect.  They’re probably scared to death about what will be revealed.

 

My question is: will anything be done about it?

 

There was another period of time in which a President committed illegal acts to circumvent an election.  On June 17, 1972 a security guard working across the street from the Watergate Office Building in Washington D.C. saw some suspicious behavior going on and called the police.  The police arrested some very inept burglars broke into the Democratic National Headquarters, located inside the Watergate.

 

I’d finished up my junior year of high school and we’d just suffered a great deal of flooding and damage from Tropical Storm Agnes, downgraded from a hurricane.  We had days and days of intense rain, and the rivers and streams overflowed their banks and flooded parts of Baltimore and surrounding counties.  In fact, my last days of school were cancelled because there were fears that the nearby Loch Raven Dam would give way.  Anyway, I was more impacted by Agnes than I was about whatever shenanigans went on at the Watergate.

 

Slowly but surely, though, a conspiracy began to unravel.  The Justice Department was investigating the five idiots, called “The Plumbers”.  The most effective journalists to bring the sordid story to the public were Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein of the Washington Post.  They had an unnamed source that advised them to “follow the money”, which led them to the Committee to Re-Elect the President.  Originally it was known by the acronym CRP but as the investigation progressed, it became known as CREEP.

 

President Nixon denied any wrongdoing from the get-go.  It was those crazy Plumbers.  “I am not a crook,” he declared.  However, there were enough questions and concerns that the House and then the Senate began to look into what had happened.  During the summer of 1972, I watched the Senate Watergate hearings faithfully.

 

The committee was chaired by elderly Senator Sam Ervin, a folksy Southern gentleman who could be funny but stern whenever appropriate.  The co-chair was Senator Howard Baker of Tennessee.  Senator Baker came up with the question on everyone’s minds: “What did the President know and when did he know it?”

 

There were some remarkable, memorable witnesses.  John Dean dropped the big bombshell that not only did President Nixon know about the break-in, he actively participated in the coverup after the Plumbers were arrested.  Dean was so young then, stoic and mostly stony-faced, as he recounted meetings with Nixon, Attorney General Mitchell, aides Bob Haldeman and John Ehrlichman and others in which they discussed how to make it all go away.

 

But Watergate wouldn’t go away.

 

Haldeman and Ehrlichman, nicknamed Herdleman, refused to turn on the President.  They were defiant, as I remember.

 

And then Alexander Butterfield was interviewed.  The Minority Counsel, Republican Fred Thompson, asked Butterfield if he was aware of any listening devices in the Oval Office.  There was a slight pause, Butterfield blinked, and then said yes. 

 

That blew everything wide open.  The White House was subpoenaed for the tapes; President Nixon and staff stonewalled.  When the tapes were finally turned over, there was a crucial 18-minute gap in one of the recordings.  Nixon’s loyal secretary, Rosemary Woods, tried to cover for her boss for posing for a picture to show how it could happen.  The picture was so ridiculous it was almost funny.

 

Still, President Nixon was determined not to resign.  In Congress, both the Democrats and the Republicans agreed this could not stand and began to move together to impeach Nixon.  Nixon did not want to be impeached and so he resigned on August 9, 1974.  Vice-President Gerald Ford took office and pardoned Nixon, saying he wanted to spare the country from more trauma.  He wasn’t re-elected.

 

By the end of it all, I was thoroughly disgusted and disappointed in President Nixon.  He’d accomplished much with foreign policy in spite of being and unpopular man at home.  I learned that he was a vindictive, paranoid man who kept an enemies’ list.  He was a flawed, pathetic law breaker.  There hasn’t been one like him until 45.

In 1972-74, there was bi-partisanship in Congress.  During the hearings, the Republicans on the committee stuck up for the President initially but at the end of the sorry mess, they were ready for Nixon to get out.

 

I wish I could say the same about that formerly glorious Grand Old Party but I can’t.  They have become a pack of greedy, cold-hearted, and downright evil butt kissers of a former (hate to say it) president who ended up a traitor because he couldn’t accept he’d lost the election.

 

So.  We’ll see if there are any consequences this time.

One Act Of Compassion

Today, my History website mentioned that on June 8, 1972, Senator Shirley Chisholm visited Governor George Wallace after he’d been shot five times.  Yes, I remember the incident.  I was still living in Baltimore with my parents and brother.  Governor Wallace was running for President again.  He ran in 1968 and won six southern states.

He sure did.  From everything I’d heard and seen about him, he was a detestable racist, a white supremacist.  In 1968, the year RFK was assassinated, Wallace was running on an anti-segregation platform, promising to reverse all the recent desegregation.  I clearly remembered the images of him standing in the doorway to the University of Alabama to prevent black students from entering.  I found him to be ugly in appearance and sick in his soul, thoroughly disgusted.

He came to Laurel, Maryland to campaign.  Laurel was a good 30 miles or so from Baltimore.  He was in the Laurel Plaza shopping center greeting people and shaking hands.  There was a bunch of people there.  I don’t know if they were all supporters or not.  A man named Arthur Bremer shot him 5 times, paralyzing him for the rest of his life.  His campaign for the presidency ended, and Richard Nixon ended up winning the 1972 election.

Shirley Chisholm was totally different than George Wallace.  I knew that she was the first black woman to be elected to Congress.  In 1972, I knew she was a liberal while Wallace was a segregationist populist.  She represented a district in New York and then became the first woman to run for President in 1972.  She was an early childhood educator and while she served in Congress, much of her focus was on getting food and nutrition assistance for the poor.

In spite of their political and personal views, Shirley Chisholm visited George Wallace while he was recuperating in Holy Cross Hospital.  It threw me.  Why would she visit him when he believed that people of color were inferior?  It’s because she had compassion and human decency.  What happened to Wallace was horrible and she wouldn’t want something like that happen to anyone.

Wallace cried.  After he recovered, he announced he’d become born again and scaled back on his racist views.  He even supported Chisolm’s bill to give domestic workers the minimum wage.  With his support, enough of the southern legislators in Congress helped get the bill passed.

One unexpected act of compassion means so much.  

 

Monday, June 6, 2022

Mass Shootings: Live With It?

 Today is the anniversary of the Allies invasion of Normandy in 1944.  I remember the 50th anniversary and feeling amazed by how many years had passed.  In two years, it’ll be 80 years.  I saw “The Longest Day” when I was a kid in the 60s.  I thought it was a great movie but not too long ago, when I saw it again, I was saddened at all the lives lost.  My first dh Rich and I went to see “Saving Private Ryan” when we took a weekend vacation in 1998 or 99.  I couldn’t sit through the whole movie.  It was just too realistic.  I couldn’t handle the blood and gore.

Those rifles the soldiers used then weren’t like the automatics we have today but they were heavy duty and meant to kill people.  The automatic rifles some people like aren’t meant for hunting or protection.  Those weapons are to kill a lot of people fast, inflicting devastating and mutilating damage on the human body.

This morning I read an opinion piece by one of the surviving students from the Columbine High School massacre back in 1999.  I’d heard of mass shootings before but they were usually associated with organized crime hits.  These weren’t hardened hit men.  They were misfit teens who went into their school and started shooting.  They killed themselves.   The carnage was shocking.  We were all horrified by this awful tragedy but too soon it was forgotten. It was just one of those once in a lifetime things, right?

Wrong.  This is a list of school shootings since Columbine. https://www.usnews.com/news/us/articles/2022-05-24/a-look-at-some-of-the-deadliest-us-school-shootings They just list the deadliest, which killed 169 children.  This only happens in this country.  Other countries have sensible gun laws and the number one killer of children is not gun violence.  But here, in the US, gun violence kills more kids than car accidents.  It kills more kids than cancer.  The statistic is absolutely monstrous.

Craig Nelson wrote the column about gun violence and surviving Columbine.  He was 17 years old then and recalled the trauma of friends being killed while he and other classmates hid.  Now he is the father of four children and this could likely happen again and to one of his children. 

That’s because, lately, it seems mass shootings have become the “new norm”.  You don’t know if it’ll happen at the grocery store or the movies or a clinic or a mall or a concert or a church or a parking lot or night club … you don’t know where and when the next one will happen.  It’s bad enough the Rethuglicans refuse to do anything about gun control reform.  Now there’s a new poll:  almost half of the formerly respectable Republicans think we have to just live with mass shootings.

My brain is exploding.  My brain is being overloaded with: shock, disbelief, outrage.  I think those people need to see pictures of the Alverde kids and Buffalo seniors who were killed with those vicious, deadly AR-15s.  Completely mind boggling.

Mr. Nelson had suggestions about what we can do instead of just sitting on our hands, shaking our heads.

This has to be politicized.  Those of us who are tired of children being shot up in schools and people of color being slaughtered at churches and grocery stores need to get up and use our voices.  Join a protest march.  Go to your local government council meeting.  Call your senators.  Call your representative.  Volunteer to help elect people who will be willing to make a change.  If we sit back and do nothing, it’s like condoning gun violence.

Mass shootings, the new norm?  Is that who we are?  Is that who we want to be? Check out Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_mass_shootings_in_the_United_States

Mr. Nelson’s opinion piece: https://www.nbcnews.com/think/opinion/survived-columbine-school-shooting-watched-uvalde-repeat-cycle-death-rcna31338?cid=eml_nbn_20220605&user_email=13660bfeb26f12d44f84b122ca5ed8d5f1acd1ca439a25e7fe835ee487c11d11&%243p=e_sailthru&_branch_match_id=897534115306322423&utm_medium=Email%20Sailthru&_branch_referrer=H4sIAAAAAAAAAzVO7WrEIBB8GvvPJH4klxaOUij3GkHXzSlnVPxI6NvX%2Figss8PszjC21lQ%2BxjFoCHiVQaU0eBdeo0ifhEuR7rgV5Xy1ub11IWb3dEH5rWV%2Ft39mIr4If%2FS5rmv4j4F4dKXantR3TC64GDorLZ%2FuREMh%2BnZoF5AWsDF6WjpWF570UhVs%2F2in8gZpxoSqUvgBj9R0ammGoAQTYiXiAc4Q8Y2H34IOG584n5ZpJnxpBfOGR6%2Fe70wsy6R31HzZGTdS7qvUjHNQM5rVzDtTYBgoKd4Vn%2FG24ypmRLnegDHD2C9Kxm%2BmJgEAAA%3D%3D

Sunday, June 5, 2022

Remembering Senator Robert F. Kennedy

The History Channel website reminds me that it was this day in 1968 that Sirhan Sirhan caught up with Senator Robert F. Kennedy in the kitchen of the Ambassador Hotel and shot him in the head.  I came down the stairs the next morning and, just as had happened with Rev. King’s assassination, I heard the news on the morning news.  Reporters said that Senator Kennedy was still alive but in grave condition and that his pregnant wife, Ethel, was at his side.

My heart started pounding.  Not again!  I still remembered the trauma of President Kennedy’s assassination.  As I did in April, I went into the dining room where my parents were eating and mouthed to them what had happened.  They were shocked and we all went back into the living room to watch the coverage until it was time for me to leave for school.

I would say I’d become “woke” after Reverend King’s assassination and had become interested in political news.  I began following Senator Kennedy’s campaign; he was speaking to a crowd of African Americans when the news came about Rev. King.  His grief and comforting words helped people stay calm.  I liked his message.  I liked that he seemed to be for regular people, white and of color, and not just rich folks like himself.  I thought he might be able to bring the bloody war in Viet Nam to a close.  Senator Kennedy was a candidate of hope.

I prayed and prayed so hard that God would save him.  Maybe that head wound wasn’t as terrible as his brother’s had been.  Our country really needed him, please, God.  But that wound had been a lethal one and he died on June 6th.  I was heart-broken.  I didn’t blame God; I blamed the gunman, Sirhan Sirhan.  And I was angry at the impulsive decision Senator Kennedy made to go through the kitchen instead of the way he was supposed to go.

If he had lived to become President, how different our lives would have been!

 

Saturday, June 4, 2022

Shared Post Written By Uvalde Mom

 This was on my Facebook News Feed this morning.  There are hashtags at the end so maybe it originated on Twitter.

"Sharing: This was heartbreaking to read but important we ALL hear her words and feel her pain. Maybe then people will fight to get assault rifles banned. At least I hope so.

Written by one of the #Uvalde victims moms:

The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.
She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich. I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know? Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work?  Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.
She will never experience having a cavity. 
She will never experience having a cavity filled.
The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last? 
These are the things they don’t tell us.
Which of her friends did she see die before her? 
Hannah? 
Emily?
Both?
Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform? 
She just earned a Fire Safety patch. What if it got ruined?
There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?
She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.  We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.
None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.
There will be no spelling test on Friday.
Because there is no one to give it.
And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:
I will never know at what age she would have started her period.
I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.
(Or if they would have come in crooked.)
I will never know who she spoke to last.  Was it the teacher?  Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?
She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive.  She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.
“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so
Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”
Did the killer ever see Encanto? 
Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn? 
What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?
If so, what flavor? 
Cinnamon?
Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them?  Or did he drive in silence?
Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot? 
Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?
These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.
Clothes I never need to fold again.
Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.
How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser? 
I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.
It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed her name in the card.  Should I cross it out?
That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will. 
The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?
It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.
A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.
A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.
A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.
Now there will be no more keychains to attach.
No more trophies.
Surely they can’t throw it out? Would they throw them all out? 19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school?  Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life? 

These are the things someone else knows:
The moment the semiautomatic rifle was put into his hands--was “Bring Me a Higher Love” playing in the gun store? “Get off my Cloud” by the Rolling Stones? Maybe it was Elton John’s “Rocket Man.” 
Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?
not my problem my kids are grown and out of school
Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat
Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed
Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.
I beg the world:
Pay attention to what’s screaming today, or be forced to endure the silence that follows.

#gunviolenceawareness
#MoreGunsIsNotTheAnswer
#BanAssaultWeapons
#WeaponsOfWar
#CiviliansDoNotNeedWeaponsOfWar
#AmericanEpidemic
#CallYourLegislators #CallAllElected
#GVP #gunviolenceprevention"



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