Month: August 2014

When I was a child in Lumberton, NC (ages 5-11), I often left home after breakfast, and did not return until lunch … sometimes until supper. I played all over our neighborhood, and occasionally beyond. I swam in the swift-flowing Lumber River, and in water moccasin-infested White Lake and Lake Waccamaw. I went fishing on Scarborough’s pond without a life vest. I rode my bike without a helmet, attached pieces of line to the handlebars to simulate horse’s reins, and often rode behind the DDT truck in its cloud of oily insecticide spray. I smoked “rabbit tobacco” and played with my green army men (occasionally setting brush fires to better simulate a combat environment) .

We moved to Greensboro, NC in 1959. Our house sat in the middle of Mr. Benjamin’s cow pasture. I played with the estate caretaker’s son Bill in the field, and wandered through the woods — sometimes all day — accompanied by my faithful dachshund. I smoked real tobacco, and drank liquor when I could get it, with a definite preference for “corn”. I hunted and fished on my own, or with a friend, often trading my services shooting crows out of a cornfield in exchange for hunting privileges. Old Mr. Case’s wife would feed me country ham from the smokehouse and scratch biscuits off her wood stove.

If I were to do today at 8 or 12 what I did back then at those ages, I would be hauled in by Child Protective Services and my parents would be indicted. My parents were strict, God-fearing Southern Democrats of the highest moral standing, and they saw to it that we knew right from wrong, and acted accordingly. Yes, I transgressed, but never without guilt and at least an attempt to do better. It is not as though they did not care; they just knew that children need to be taught how to behave, and then be given the opportunity to learn from and act on that teaching.

Our modern era has produced in our society the belief that risk is not a part of life, rather something to be controlled by government, acting to protect us from every possible bad outcome. Government, so far removed from us by comparison, cannot function as a parent. It does not take a village — much less a nation — to raise a child.

Reference [caution: Faux News alert!] : Student Punished for Saying “Bless you” [link broken, sorry — trust me, it was there]

Reference: Punishing Independence

Yes, my blog name has changed. Yes, it is a shameless homage. Yes, there is a purpose.

After years of writing about all kinds of subjects that many other people address also — many far better than I — it finally occurred to me that part of my lack of ‘success’ (measured in terms of readership and feedback, neither of which are very good bellwethers) might be attributed to scope.

In the ‘political’ area, I have spent a lot of time talking about issues of the day in general (global) terms. In the future, I shall endeavor to think, act, and write more locally in the belief that any change we might actually bring about must come from the ground up.

This is the reason for the name change (well, that and it’s just a serendipitous play on words). One of many things that I have come to realize after reading more from John Taylor of Caroline, VA is that even though I knew all along that our ‘federal’ system was particularly corrupt, and that all governments conform to Lord Acton’s warning, while I may offer insight into the woes from the Maryland fever swamp, I have no real means of correcting even the least of them. On the other hand, I might be able to make a personal change on which I can build. From personal to local, from local to county, from county to state, from state to federal … at least in theory.

Regardless of how much I actually accomplish, at least I’ll stay in my own wheelhouse, writing about things that affect me personally, and things from my life that relate to larger issues. We shall see how it goes.

So settle back, and let’s see where this iteration takes us.