Independence Day

As an exercise in contrasts think for a moment of the political atmosphere that prevailed on and around July 4, 1776. Now compare that image with today’s political atmosphere. Do you see a startling difference? If you don’t, shame on you! You haven’t been paying attention. In 1776 noble and self-sacrificing men and women were struggling desperately to throw off the shackles of tyranny and establish liberty in America. Today a great many of our political leaders, Republicans and Democrats alike, are doing just the reverse. They are taking away those hard-won liberties and replacing them with an ever-growing number of stifling federal bureaucracies and agencies, each one accompanied by a chocking array of incomprehensible regulations and controls. And while they are doing it, they keep insisting that the expensive and bloated new government they are creating for us is our dearest friend, something not to be feared but rather an innocuous power that wants only to do what is best for us. But think about it. Is being innocuous really an inherent and fundamental trait of government? George Washington certainly didn’t think so. “Government,” wrote Washington, “is not reason, it is not eloquence, it is force; like fire, a troublesome servant and a fearful master.” That is why our Founding Fathers wisely wrote a constitution setting forth clearly defined limits on the power of government. That is why they created a form of government that distributed and balanced those carefully defined powers among three separate branches. They knew that governments, if not carefully watched and restrained, are likely to become mischievous and dangerous. Especially if all power is permitted to fall into the hands of one person or an elite few. Most surely we believe governments should on occasion provide help for their citizens. But if we the people are to continue being the strong backbone of our republic and remain free, as the Founders envisioned us to be, we must resist every government intrusion into our lives, especially those that come to us disguised as a helping hand. For every time we accept unsolicited and unneeded assistance from the government we are empowering it and weakening ourselves. And if we don’t stop, one day we will find ourselves overwhelmed by it. On this Fourth of July I challenge each of you to make your country stronger and better by becoming a stronger and better citizen, a citizen who can look after him or herself, as well as one who can look after those he or she is responsible for. If you are willing to do that, you will be exhibiting the finest and best qualities of a true patriot. And little by little, if we all work together, we can reestablish those cherished and hard-won liberties the Founders always wanted us to have. Happy Independence Day!

The Good Las Vegan

A certain man went down to Las Vegas from Bakersfield. And while en route he was crowded off I-15 east of Barstow by a wild carload of drug-crazed punks. They stripped him of his jewelry and credit cards, beat him to a bloody pulp, and then drove off in his maroon Chevy Malibu, leaving him half dead in the white '86 Corolla they had stolen only minutes before in Victorville.

By chance there came along a certain ultra-liberal democrat on his way to a Hillary Clinton rally at a posh Las Vegas hotel, and when he saw the battered old Corolla and the bleeding man inside, he slowed down his bright yellow Hummer and said conceitedly to himself: "Look what eight years of George W. Bush has done to this country. It's time we had an administration in Washington that cares about people." And then he passed by on the other side.

And likewise, a social worker from the Bay Area with a masters degree in public administration from Berkeley, when she was at the place, stopped her blazing red Mustang convertible and looked on him. "What a shame," she said sympathetically to herself. "I surely wish I could help this pitiful man but I am not authorized to dispense state or federal welfare funds outside Marin County." And then she passed by on the other side.

But a certain twice-divorced blackjack dealer from Las Vegas, who scarcely had made it through high school and was poorly instructed in the principles of humanism, as he was journeying homeward after a weekend of debauchery with some chicks from Santa Monica, he came to where the wounded man was, and when he saw him, he had compassion on him.

And he went to him, and bound his wounds, pouring into them some SPF 30 sunscreen and a little Jack Daniels, all that was left over from his misspent weekend at the beach, and placed him in his own '93 Grand Cherokee with torn seat covers and brought him to a seedy motel in Barstow, and took care of him.

And on the morrow, when he departed, he took out two Jacksons and a Lincoln, every cent that remained of the rent money he had imprudently taken with him to California, and gave them to the motel clerk, and said unto him: "Take care of him, and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee." And the unshaven and scruffy motel clerk rolled his bloodshot eyes and said blandly: "Yeah, sure. Whatever, dude."

Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was the neighbor unto him who fell among the drug-crazed punks?

Paths

Each of us commences our earthly existence and journey at a precise time and place. From that time and place we move inexorably onward through a series of ups and downs and twists and turns--some fascinating, some frightful--to our ultimate destiny, an event that also will be marked by a specific time and place. The interval, be it long or short, between beginning and end is called our lifetime. And though our beginning point in time and space is predetermined for us by choices our parents made, there is inevitably a moment when we begin making choices for ourselves, a point where we start selecting our own path in life. And this path, whether carefully or carelessly chosen, will unavoidably carry us across the paths of many others, some good and some not so good, and convey us to our ultimate fate. It has been said that if you could follow a person's path backwards, from the end to the beginning, and look at all the spots where he chose a certain fork over another, you would see that there really was only one place he could have ended up. So please take heed my dear friends, especially my young friends. Be wise and thoughtful in choosing your path, for if you are, the trip through life can be, despite the occasional disappointments and heartaches common to all, surprisingly beautiful and even breathtaking at times. And when you arrive at your final stop, wherever and whenever that might be, it will be the serene and natural conclusion to a worthwhile and lovely journey.

Separation Anxiety

A number of years ago, in a distant time some of you may not remember, a troubled magazine writer suffering from unresolved childhood fears wrote an article in which he described Highway 50 in central Nevada as "the loneliest road in America." When we who live along this delightful and enchanting route first learned of his smug and shallow assessment, we were damned insulted, but now the more enlightened among us are gradually beginning to realize that the poor man was profoundly disturbed and probably just couldn't help himself. Although debate among practicing psychologists persists to this day, and perhaps always will, most of the ones with licenses agree that because he could find no bustling 5th Avenues or glittering Hollywood Boulevards along the way to mollify his deeply rooted and neurotic feelings of isolation he concluded that he was lonely. In his sick and depraved mind he was confusing stark beauty and wide-open spaces with loneliness, which leads us now to believe he possessed a morbidly exaggerated sense of the role crowds and bright lights play in promoting feelings of acceptance and inclusion. Today we understand and sympathize with this anguished man and realize that he should no longer be held accountable for his regrettable remarks. After all, viewed through the lens of his twisted mind, things must have looked a lot different to him than they do to us normal people who live here in Nevada.

Divisive Forces and Elements

Something as massive and strong as a rock can be split by seemingly negligible forces and elements. It takes only one small fissure, one small crack, to provide an opening through which these divisive forces and elements may enter the rock and begin their destructive work. And once inside, if nothing is done to arrest that ruinous process, the rock, mighty as it may be, will ultimately split and break. In some ways a society is like a rock. It may be prodigious, strong and sound. But if one small crack develops within it, and nothing is done to repair the crack, forces and elements that once seemed insignificant and harmless can enter into it, and over time, destroy it. A society, however, differs from a rock in one important respect. A society is made up of living organisms, human beings, and is therefore itself a living organism. And as such, unlike a rock, it is capable of taking corrective action. It can fix itself--if it has a mind to.

The Science of Letting Things Go

In order to success-fully set a fine and useful structure upon the downhill road to dilapi-dation and ruin, one must possess a plan, a strategy, and a high level of single-mindedness and dedication. One can leave nothing to chance in such a virtuous and gratifying enterprise. He must render himself totally and utterly oblivious to even the most glaring signs of decay and deterioration, and be willing to resist and forsake any natural inclinations to patch or mend. But even so, he must retain a keen appreciation for the smallest details, for ignoring a loose shingle here and a broken hinge there can pay rich dividends over time, as illustrated in this photo. Obviously the man who has so painstakingly neglected this charming old barn and hay derrick knows a few things about the largely misunderstood and often maligned science of letting things go. Our hats go off to him for his farsightedness, adroitness and perserverance. His sterling example of what can be accomplished by setting ambition aside and exercising a little patience is an inspiration to all of us.

Rugged Mountains and Wild Horses

Over the course of a man's life he may pause from time to time to reflect upon what has changed and what has remained the same. In the summer of 1960, on a dusty, dry lake bed east of Dayton, Nevada, a sweaty and uncomfortable Hollywood film crew was filming scenes for a movie to be entitled "The Misfits." The actors involved in those scenes were Clark Gable, Marilyn Monroe, Montgomery Clift and Eli Wallach. The action in these sequences called for the male stars and their stuntmen counterparts to rope several wild horses from a moving flatbed truck and then wrestle them to the ground and secure their legs. In these scenes, in the immediate background, are bare foothills, and behind these hills are higher, more rugged peaks. Yesterday, out of a serendipitous sense of idle curiosity, I stopped at that dry lake bed to look around. Forty-eight years had come and gone since that notable group of talented actors and their equally famous director John Huston had worked there. Who can say how many whirling dust devils have swept dizzily across that flat and barren desert floor in that almost half a century? Or how many dark and ominous thunderstorms have hammered and pounded unrelentingly upon its bleak and forbidding surface? Yet, in all that long passage of time, little had changed. Everything that was important was still there. Only the flighty and insubstantial aura of Hollywood had fled away, like a tumbleweed driven by the fickle whims of the desert wind. Surprisingly, on the northern edge of the lake bed, in an area of dry grass and scrub brush, were seven wild horses; and they were not phantoms, they were real. And behind them were those majestic hills and peaks, exactly as they appeared in the movie, not looking one day older than they did forty-eight years ago. If they had a little white upon their heads, it was only because the winter's snow had not all melted away. I was but a backward and empty-headed boy, barely on the threshold of adolescence, when that transient film crew passed through our remote part of the world. But I well remember the excitement their brief visit caused and the fanfare that accompanied it. How consoling and comforting it was yesterday though, after all those many years, to pause where Hollywood royalty once had stood, and to reflect upon the fact that there still are some things a man can count on, even if they come down to a few ordinary things like rugged mountains and wild horses.