RRN Online Volume 287

December 01 '01

Volume 287

Terrorism Keeping A Proper Perspective

My mother was a worrier. Though now deceased a dozen years, her worries live on in the life of my sister. Sarah has us all dying by the hands of unknown terrorists be it anthrax, smallpox, or other dread disease. When a newspaper mysteriously appeared in my sister's driveway, she left it there a week or more.

When I asked her about it, she exclaimed, "I don't subscribe to a paper. I don't know where it came from, and for all I know it could be laced with anthrax bacteria."

While I am of the notion that my sister was just putting off the job of tidying her driveway, I suppose she voiced some of her true feelings. Either way, it lay there until I carelessly shredded it with my lawnmower a week before Thanksgiving. I was mulching leaves and had all but forgotten about the yellowed newspaper lying in the drive. The confetti that emerged looked like that produced by a paper shredder, but if it were laced with anthrax, I've suffered none of the symptoms of the disease. I could have properly disposed of the newspaper ten times over in the same amount of time it took me to clean up the mess, and before I finished the chore I must have had as many regrets for not doing so.

I may die by the hands of terrorists before this article is printed, but I will continue to live my life in much the same fashion as I did before the attacks on Sept. 11^th. In my way of thinking, too many persons have been influenced by the news media with the results being something of a bunker mentality. You know, barricade oneself from the world and nurture the seeds of suspicion and doubt regardless how trivial a threat may be.

In Pontotoc, I recently watched a postal worker gather the mail from a drop-off box on governmental property and could not help notice she wore latex gloves and a small mask over her nose, one similar to those we see used by surgical staff. I supposed she was complying with new regulations and said nothing about her unusual garb. Yet, I reasoned there will be more persons to suffer latex poisoning from wearing gloves during the course of a year than will die from anthrax.

In the days and weeks following the aforementioned attacks, a lot has been written concerning America's will to retaliate. Some of the material has been passed around through emailed correspondences. I've read prayers, petitions, heart-warming speeches, and viewed a host of humorous retaliatory cartoons. However, of all that I've read, the following most appealed to my sense of humor and my perspective on how to react to terrorism. It came unsigned, but with a flavor characteristic of a true Texan.

TERRORISM - WHAT IS THAT?

I get a big laugh at the dialogue of Osama bin Laden, the Taliban, politicians, and the news media. They say terrorists will hit us again in the oncoming weeks and months. What a joke! You have a better chance of getting killed on Interstate 35E than by a terrorist.

Osama has probably seen 100 degree plus summers in Afghanistan, but he doesn't have fire ants to go with it. If he did he wouldn't be sleeping on the ground in his cave. He talks of pain and suffering he is going to inflict on us. He doesn't know what pain is until he gets kicked by a green-broke, two year-old colt in a freezing rain.

Germ warfare? Texas ticks will give you Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever and Lime disease, blister beetles kill your horse, green bugs destroy a wheat crop, and termites eat your house. Anthrax has killed Texas cattle for over 125 years. What's new? Our prairie dogs carry the plague, armadillos carry leprosy, and our bats and skunks carry rabies. We have rattlesnakes, copperheads, and water moccasins. Ho hum.

They talk of gas and biological warfare. They have never pulled in behind a cattle truck while its raining, or ridden in the front seat of a pick-up between two cowboys after they have just eaten a big bowl of Texas Red Beans.

Texas ain't for sissies! We have posted signs all over the state that say, "Don't mess with Texas!" Osama, consider yourself warned!

Contributed to RRN by Ed Dandridge

Readers Respond Potpourri

Some readers are more prone to provide this writer with a verbal reaction to an article rather than put their thoughts on paper. These are appreciated equally as well, though my memory is a poor substitute for the written word. In the past two weeks, the following are a sampling.

"I read all your articles, but there was one, and I guess you know which one I'm talking about, that I thought went a little too far," stated my good friend Joel Hale as he sat on the bank while watching Jim Hess and me fishing.

Knowing that some folks, even regular readers of this newsletter, don't share my point of view, I was prepared to hear that I had crossed a line. Perhaps it was a political point of view, a religious or church matter over which we differed, or something else that Joel had kept to himself while waiting for an opportune moment to divulge them; all were among the thoughts that raced through my mind.

"And what might that be, Joel?" I asked.

"It was when you wrote about toilet paper," he responded. "Why, I told Shirley she couldn't read that article," laughed Joel.

In his own good-natured way, Joel ribbed me for addressing a subject so base as how folks tend to a personal and hygienic need. Joel went on to share some of his past personal experiences related to the subject, but he left me wondering if he really disapproved of the article or if he merely saw it as an opportunity to have some fun at my expense.

Some folks take their religion seriously and more so those events that happen in their local church. As I was about to enter the sanctuary at FBC, two Sundays ago, two male ushers and a lone female, stood near a back entrance to the sanctuary proper. I asked Patsy Patterson if she was ushering, and she quickly laughed off my question and informed me she was waiting for someone.

One of the men, an RRN subscriber, commented that if FBC were to begin using women ushers, then I'd have another FBC "innovation" to write about. Thus, without more being said, that comment was also hard to discern as favorable, unfavorable, or indifferent. Nonetheless, I'm certain I would have something to say about women ushers. Right now, the role of women in the church is not as limited as that of women controlled by the radical Islamic Taliban, but women at FBC are subjected to an archaic, fundamentalistic interpretation of New Testament scripture.

In a similar vein, when Jim Hess and I were fishing, Jim told Joel Hale that he recently phoned me to find out if I were still a member at First Baptist Church, because one week he read where I suggested the church needed to move if it wanted to grow the membership, and a few weeks later I had written concerning my dislike for non-traditional services.

Joel laughed heartily and gave his thoughts on my distaste for the last "Come & See" Sunday. "I saw him get up and leave that Sunday morning, then the next Sunday when I looked out [of the choir loft] and saw him, I said, 'Dang, he's back!'"

Unlike the prior ribbing, this time, I had no doubt that Joel was kidding me.

Bing Crausby and David Naugher each bent my ear at church and expressed their appreciation for the "True Heroes" article, and Opal Austin phoned me after she read the same to provide some details I had forgotten about her brother, Wayne Ferguson. She said that Wayne never drank before the war, but his experiences on Iwo Jima and other islands where fighting was intense were life-changing events for him.

"He came back to America hating the "Japs," and when he got drunk, his hatred was intense. Once an enemy soldier disguised himself as a GI, infiltrated Wayne's camp, and blew himself up, killing several of Wayne's friends in the process. The few men that were left ran short of rations before help arrived, and they had to live off the rice they found in the packs of dead Japanese soldiers. They lived on nothing but rice for two weeks. He was a strong, handsome man, before the war. He said he got something called "jungle rot" while he was on the islands…he was never the same after he came home."

Linda Ball Reeves sent an email stating her appreciation of the same article, " Wayne, Just wanted to let you know how much I appreciated, The Boys of Iwo Jima. I'm saving it for our grandsons - 13 and 14 years old…I will also share this with my brother-in-law who is a Vietnam Veteran."

I ran short of space last week and did not mention that I had some familiarity with the account of the flag raising on Iwo Jima. I had learned of Ira Hayes through a couple of TV documentaries of his life and was strongly influenced by the lyrics sung by Johnny Cash. If I remember correctly, the chorus was sung and the verses were spoken.

Ballad of Ira Hayes ©
written by
Peter LaFarge

CHORUS:
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian
Nor the Marine that went to war

Gather round me people there's a story I would tell
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
From the land of the Pima Indian
A proud and noble band
Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land

Down the ditches for a thousand years
The water grew Ira's peoples' crops
'Till the white man stole the water rights
And the sparklin' water stopped

Now Ira's folks were hungry
And their land grew crops of weeds
When war came, Ira volunteered
And forgot the white man's greed

CHORUS:

There they battled up Iwo Jima's hill,
Two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived
To walk back down again

And when the fight was over
And when Old Glory raised
Among the men who held it high
Was the Indian, Ira Hayes

CHORUS:

Ira returned a hero
Celebrated through the land
He was wined and speeched and honored;
Everybody shook his hand

But he was just a Pima Indian
No water, no crops, no chance
At home nobody cared what Ira'd done
And when did the Indians dance

CHORUS:

Then Ira started drinkin' hard;
Jail was often his home
They'd let him raise the flag and lower it
like you'd throw a dog a bone!

He died drunk one mornin'
Alone in the land he fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch
Was a grave for Ira Hayes

CHORUS:

Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes
But his land is just as dry
And his ghost is lyin' thirsty
In the ditch where Ira died

Christmas Memories Submit Yours

It's that time of year again. It's time for Ridge Rider News to call upon the readership to submit Christmas memories for publication during the month of December. In the past four years, several readers have submitted one or more memories. I've contributed more than my share as well. In fact, I'm not certain there is more than one more Christmas memory I've left to recall.

I would encourage all readers to give this request some thought. Submissions do not have to be grammatically error free. There are qualified proofreaders on staff, capable of "touching up" an article. Submissions need not be lengthy; the sort most often ascribed to this writer.

Submissions need not be limited to the childhood experiences of the writer. In fact, my remaining memorable Christmas revolves around my two children. Therefore, don your "memory" hats and put your thoughts on paper. The deadline for contributions is Saturday, December 8^th.

Bodock Beau Turkeys Reindeer & Marriage

Thanks for the following reader contributions in that there may be something for young and old alike to enjoy.

Do they get any bigger?

A lady was shopping for a turkey in a grocery store and after pawing through the freezer section and growing dissatisfied with the small ones that were left, she turned to the stock boy and asked
snippishly, "Don't these turkeys get any bigger?"

To which he calmly replied, "No ma'am. They're dead!"

Submitted by Gwen Cottrell

Santa's Reindeer

According to the Alaska Department of Fish and game, while both male and female reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year, male reindeer droptheir antlers at the beginning of winter, usually late November to mid-December. Female reindeer retain their antlers till after they give birth in the spring.

Therefore, according to every historical rendition depicting Santa's reindeer, every single one of them, from Rudolph to Blitzen ...had to be a girl. We should've known. Only women would be able to drag a fat man in a red velvet suit all around the world in one night, and not get lost.

Submitted by Dena Kimbrell

Marriage In Heaven

On their way to get married, a young couple are involved in a fatal car accident. The couple find themselves sitting outside the Pearly Gateswaiting for St. Peter to process them into Heaven. While waiting, they begin to wonder: Could they possibly get married in Heaven? When St. Peter shows up, they asked him.

St. Peter states, " I don't know. This is the first time anyone has asked. Let me go find out," and he leaves.

The couple sat and waited for an answer......for a couple of months. While they waited, they discussed the IF they were allowed to get married in Heaven, SHOULD they get married, what with the eternal aspect of it all.

"What if it doesn't work?" they wonder, " Are we stuck together FOREVER?"

After yet another month, St. Peter finally returns, looking somewhat bedraggled.

"Yes," he informs the couple, "you can get married in Heaven."

"Great!" said the couple, "But we were just wondering, what if things don't work out. Could we also get a divorce in Heaven?"

St. Peter, red-faced with anger, slams his clipboard onto the ground.

"What's wrong?' asked the frightened couple.

"OH, COME ON" St. Peter shouts, "It took me three months to find a priest up here! Do you have ANY idea how long it'll take me to find a lawyer?"

Submitted by Ed Dandridge