Southern Observer - Featured Column

Southern Observer
By John Brock

After the 1890 US census was published, historian Frederick Jackson Turner noted that nearly all Americans no longer lived on the frontier. Most of the United States had been claimed. He took to musing about how this would affect the nation and came up with his “Frontier Thesis”.

His reasoning was that America was founded and was sustained by the frontier, therefore, the frontier shaped America and not the other way around as many observers claimed. Turner concluded that the face, character, quality of life, etc., of America had been created by a, heretofore, unlimited frontier. For the entire European-based history of North America, whenever one’s fortune was in doubt, one merely moved westward toward free/cheap land and opportunity. But now the frontier had run out, Americans would have to look in a different direction for the fulfillment of their destinies. They had “mined” the frontier out and would now have to direct their exploitation elsewhere.

Turner concluded that Americans, now that the frontier was “used up”, would turn to government for their good fortune. They would exploit (“mine”) the US government. History has proved him correct.

Some observers scoffed and it took another 40 years before they became true believers of Turner’s prediction. By the 1930s Great Depression and the advent of Roosevelt’s “New Deal”, most Americans had started looking to government to fulfill their collective and individual desires. Previously, the “unfortunate” in the community were taken care of by families, church, the local community, etc., but with widespread economic depression abounding, the government accommodated by promising to take care of us all – eventually, from womb to tomb. A new federalism was born and has flourished almost unabated since.

It soon became not just the poor who were the beneficiaries of government largesse but everybody (including business and industry) as they all clamored to get their fair share at the public trough. Supply/demand or need no longer ultimately dictated costs, price supports, wages, interest rates, importation, etc. – government now did!

We were left with two very different philosophies still in contention today. One wants to expand American’s dependence on the federal government even more by creating new, bigger and “better” social programs and oversight. The other side wants to curb government dependence and allow Americans to keep more of the fruits of their own labors via tax reductions, less regulation, etc. This seems fair enough since families, today, who are working two jobs to get ahead, are paying as much as a whopping 40% of their gross income for taxes of one sort or another as well as supporting government regulatory programs.

Now that the Federal Government’s resources are being depleted, Americans have discovered new entities to “mine” – namely, corporate America. Another “golden goose?” Even Frederick Jackson Turner was not clever enough to predict this one. We are starting to mine big business, whose astuteness and financial risk through the years has given us jobs, industries and our wealth via the unique American system of Free Enterprise. Now, we want to kill that goose as well while taking its last golden egg. What then? Government cannot create wealth. Only individual human toil can do so. Government can only redistribute wealth and manipulate it until its house of cards comes tumbling down.

If you doubt that corporate America has been discovered as the new source of exploitation, just take a look at the multi-BILLION dollar lawsuits that have taken place and are taking place. The tobacco industry alone has provided mega-billions of dollars to governments and individuals with more to follow. How can an industry that for two generations has been regulated into disclosing on their packaging and in their ads: “hazardous to your health - can cause cancer, heart disease, birth defects, DEATH, etc.” be held accountable for people voluntarily using their product? Beats me but courts are awarding mega-dollars. Insurance companies, pharmaceutical companies and the health industry, including doctors, have been targets for years.

One can hardly pick up a magazine or newspaper without seeing a solicitation from a legal firm seeking participants in a class action suit against various industries.

Also at jeopardy for “free money” is the automobile industry. Big bucks have been awarded to parties injured by drunks and careless drivers, but, who pays for these awards? Not the drunks or the negligent, irresponsible drivers but the automobile manufacturer whose products, like tobacco, have been approved for sale to the public. This, of course, means that you and I will bear the burden with additional product costs and insurance. Who’s next? You can bet the alcohol industry has to be spending sleepless nights.

This wealth redistribution will continue as long as there are lawyers and greedy “victims” looking for a buck (I can’t wait until it’s the Lawyer’s turn to be exploited); the public will “mine” whatever target comes into their sights.

When we have tapped out all of the “mines” and the shaft is empty, what happens then? Well, the former purveyors of another failed economy, the communists, will have been proved right all along - we will have destroyed ourselves from within.

I fear there are not enough Americans left with the will to stop this foolishness.

Most conscientious Americans will grouse about it. Give lip service in objection to it but I don’t think we will do a damned thing to stop it – everybody greedily wants their share of the loot.

And that’s sad for our children and grandchildren who will be left with no goose; no egg just an empty nest.

Southern Observer
By John Brock

I have to admit to at least one non-Southern element in my life. Unlike most Southerners, I am “goal” oriented while most of my kinsmen are “process” directed. I enjoy getting the job done or getting to my destination. Most Southerners, while they may enjoy the goal, they enjoy the process equally. Their life is much more leisurely and comfortable than mine. I envy them.

A few can do both. Take my wife for instance:

As an artist she finds equal pleasure in the journey and the destination. She can go on a trip, undertake a task or paint a picture with equal enjoyment of both the journey and the destination. She enjoys the process as well as the goal.

Psychologists tell us that people live and work for different reasons. Some for utter enjoyment. Others work for money while many work for recognition but most work for a combination of both. Frankly, I work just to get through!

I love finishing a task.

Because I am a goal-oriented person, while my wife is a process directed person, she enjoys life better than I do. She enjoys the journey. I, on the other hand, enjoy getting to my destination.

Several years ago, this came into sharp focus when we drove to the West Coast and back. It was a trip of over 7,500 highway miles of sheer pleasure for her but an ordeal for me. She was enjoying the trip. I was working hard at getting halfway and then anxiously looking forward to turning around and heading home. Oh, I enjoyed the trip and saw many interesting things along the way, but not like my wife did. She marveled at every moment - every sight along the way. I could think only of how many miles we had covered today and how close that put us to getting back home. Sense of place is something I do share with other Southerners – we all like to go home again.

My wife, on the other hand, enjoys stopping and smelling the roses. I wish I could.

She says the next time we take a long trip; we’re going on a tour bus. I suppose she is right to insist that this will be the only way I might relax on a trip.

We have been to Europe a number of times. I enjoyed it except for the flying. I am glad we went but do I want to go back? I don’t think so. I feel about another trip out of the country exactly how I feel about coon hunting. I’ve already been.

My wife can enjoy several processes at the same time. She can talk on the phone, fold the laundry and watch television simultaneously. She amazes me how she can wrap Christmas presents, watch television and carry on a conversation concurrently. I have to do one task at a time because it is impossible for me to share my concentration among several projects. During the past Christmas season, she tried to enlist my help in wrapping presents while carrying on a conversation with me. I just couldn’t do it. I have to do one or the other separately — not at the same time.

I finally figured out how to get out of doing things more fitting for an artist than for someone like me. Whenever I didn’t want to do a particular task, I would do a sloppy job (which wasn’t hard) and soon, very soon, she insisted on doing the whole thing herself. I found that the same principle applies to dishwashing, cooking, house-cleaning, etc. And besides, she enjoys the process so much I don’t feel guilty. I do not like to rob her of her pleasures in life.

After I retired, I thought it only fair that since I didn’t have to get up and go to work each day, I should help out around the house. I tried. Honestly, I really tried but I just could not enjoy the process. I was a man on a mission - that mission was to get through - to reach my goal. Consequently, my wife complained that I was doing my tasks too hurriedly and therefore, too sloppily. I just have not been able to enjoy the process of housework. My wife on the other hand can make an adventure out of just about anything. She is definitely a process-oriented person

So, we have made a deal. She enjoys the process and I enjoy her finished efforts.

My wife is away this week and will not be reading this column, so, let’s don’t tell her our little secret. After all, we wouldn’t want to destroy her next process adventure. Thanks.
—

Southern Observer
By John Brock

I have always feared it would someday come to pass. Now, it’s actually happened — the inmates are in charge of the asylum. Very little in the news surprises me these days. Idiots seem to garner all of the coverage. Here are but a few examples gleaned from the pages of recent media offerings:

APES HUMAN?
At a time in history when the “personhood” of an unborn child is being devalued, a group of animal rights nuts are seeking laws to provide for the “personhood” of apes. You heard me correctly. Austrian animal activists want chimps to be declared persons to protect the rights of monkeys all around the globe. As Europe goes, can the US be far behind?

The animal rights crazies want a 26-year-old male chimpanzee legally declared “a person.” As such he would be entitled to “basic rights” ordinarily assigned to authentic humans. A judge has ruled against the first petition but the case is being appealed. In the meantime, Spain’s parliament is considering a national law that would extend “fundamental moral and legal” rights to apes. I suppose snakes, camels and sheep are next on the humanization roster.

Then what? Intermarriage with humans? Voting rights? Where will it all lead? Who can tell? Only a few years ago, most Americans thought the right for folks of the same sex to be married beyond comprehension. But, even that’s legal in a few states today. Human/monkey nuptials in the offing? Who will get custody of “Cheetah” if they divorce? Do animals have a right to abortion?

ON-SCREEN SMOKING
Smoking by actors on movie screens has come under attack by the Motion Picture Association of America which dictates movie ratings. Gone are the days of Bogey and Becall with smokes hanging from their lips. On-screen smoking will earn a film a more restricted rating (N-13 for nicotine?) because the movie moguls want to protect our young folks from the evils of smoking.

This might be a good cause but the elimination of cigarettes on the screen still leaves adulterous sex, abortion, explicit sexual promiscuity, drug activity, and let’s don’t forget the ever-present alcoholic drink on the silver screen. All of these practices will remain intact. But smoking? No-sir-ree. The movie crazies are at it again.

TERM “MASTER” VERBOTEN
Some building contractors and real estate folks have decided that the term “Master Bedroom or Suite” is too “politically incorrect” for describing the main bedroom and the term “Owner’s Suite” is coming into vogue.

It seems that the word “master” has bad vibes for women and some black Americans. My, my, another word that must be eliminated from the English language to accommodate political correctness. Absurd? You bet.

What’s next? Can we no longer use the words: Mastermind, master key, Master of Arts degree, master of ceremonies, or masterpiece? Come on. Give us a break. Words are words and we shouldn’t tamper with perfectly descriptive, traditional terms.

TARGETING LAWNMOWERS
If you have driven down the highway with an eighteen-wheeler belching clouds of black smoke in your face, then you just might be outraged that the Environmental Protection Agency is going after the pollution created by your lawnmower even as the behemoths continue spewing their black sin along our highways.

The federal agency has declared that any walk-behind or riding lawnmower of less than 25 horsepower must be equipped with catalytic converters just like your automobile. This will make home mowers more expensive because catalytic converters are laced with precious metals costing hundreds if not thousands of dollars per ounce. The catalytic-equipped mowers will also be less efficient while the trucking juggernauts continue down the Interstate unabated. Nutty? You’d better believe it. But that’s the rationale today of the politically correct – the eighteen-wheeler might be transporting a gorilla to its nuptials with a real human primate, therefore, it’s OK.

$60,000 MATTRESS
Baby Boomers are adding a new twist to the price of a “good night’s sleep.” New ultra-deluxe bedding costing more than a college education, a luxury automobile or a starter home is being scooped up by boomers with more money than brains.

A Swedish bed company has launched a new mattress product called “Vividus,” which is Latin for “full of life,” that will retail for $59,750. The bedding is made of latex, memory foam, silk, cashmere, lamb’s wool and horse hair. Horse hair! I thought that went out with Duncan Fife sofas.

The company has sold only a dozen of the high-priced mattresses. Wonder why. Could it possibly be that most folks are getting a good night’s sleep on a mattress costing only a few hundred dollars. As I said, the inmates are in charge of the asylum.

These are only a few of the insane shenanigans of the devout brainless. But idiotic ideas will always be with us as long as there is a substantial portion of the world’s population willing to be suckered into any wacky notion.

It’s official. Citadel graduates can now become “Alumni Forever.”

The college has joined a number of schools providing for alumni, or at least their cremated ashes, to be forever enshrined on campus. The school has announced plans to build a columbarium in the lower part of the college’s bell tower. For those of you, like I, who are unschooled in the parlance of stashing ashes of the deceased, a columbarium is a niche for a funeral urn containing the remains of the cremated dead. The Citadel will make available 400 “niches” for those wanting to give a whole new meaning to the term “Student Body.”

No purchase price has been announced but the new ashes-to-ashes depository will be dedicated in November at the school’s appropriately named, “Homecoming.” In making the announcement last week, The Citadel joins numerous other colleges and universities that also offer an opportunity for a final “Homecoming.”

Once upon a time in the South, when a person died, the remains were taken to the funeral parlor for “preparation” and then returned home to rest in state in the (ironically termed) “living room” where family members mourned for a day or two. The departed was then taken to the church and burial was likely in the cemetery next to the church – “just as God intended,” my grandmother would declare. A few private family cemeteries were maintained.

The only time you ever heard of someone being cremated was when an illegal liquor still inadvertently blew up or when a fireworks factory exploded.

But now, colleges and universities have found a new money source from the dead and their families by providing final resting places for the departed loved ones on the campus of their Alma Mater. Wonder how long it will take for the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) to sue to offer the same opportunity to non-graduates based on “equal protection under the law?” Do corpses have civil rights?

At more and more institutions, alumni can find their eternal resting places in the same environment where they first experienced keg parties, panty raids and other fraternity/sorority frivolities. And the college walks away with a few bucks to help run the store.

Some of these final resting places take the form of cemeteries but more and more pre-dead alumni are opting for “Memorial Gardens” where the deceased’s ashes can be stored. It seems that laws governing burials are not as stringent for ashes as for whole bodies.

This kind of homecoming is not exactly what I had in mind when I left college. If it catches on, we can surely become “Alumni Forever” just as those Alma Mater songs exalt.

Official at colleges say it’s a trend driven by baby boomers, who are seeking a greater sense of meaning and connection in their lives. The director of alumni relations at one college, explains, “People today are moving around the country all the time. They may have no sense of home, but they have fond memories of college and a sense of belonging there.”

“Homecoming Eternal” is even being practiced clandestinely. Duke University officials report that small mounds of ashes have mysteriously appeared in formal gardens on campus during the dark of night. The Blue Devil made ‘em do it, I suppose.

If you are contemplating a final resting place at your old school, it’s going to cost you, of course. University of Virginia, alumni can purchase a $1,400 vault in the campus columbarium. It can run into the thousands at some universities.

Now that the practice has caught on in South Carolina you can rest assured, if there is a buck to be made, other schools will follow suit.

Can’t you just imagine “homecoming” at Clemson as they get into the alumni planting business. They already have a prime appropriately named burial spot. They call it “Death Valley”.

Who knows? A brand new rivalry may develop with the University of South Carolina Gamecocks to see which school can plant the most alumni in the stadium end-zone at half time.

I can’t wait for the premier edition of “US News & World Report” designating the “Best Colleges to be Buried at.” Or “The 10 Best Colleges to be Caught Dead in.” Opportunities for advancement of the new custom are limitless. Just imaging college advertisements hawking: “We not only want to be your first college choice – we want to be your last one, too”.

And how about those Clemson jerseys emblazoned with, “Grandpa was buried at Death Valley and all I got was this lousy Tiger T-Shirt.”

The promotional possibilities are unlimited.

Growing old presents its own unique set of problems, but none more troublesome than forgetfulness. It is quite bothersome when one starts up a set of stairs and comes to a landing, suddenly not remembering whether you were going up or coming down. It’s equally disconcerting pondering if that doctor’s appointment was on the 11thh at 4 o’clock or the 4th at 11 o’clock.

They tell us that as we age we sometimes forget to drink liquids. I wish this was true for eating as well because I have noticed no difference in my food intake and my weight has tended to increase with each year of longevity.

I often do forget to drink enough water. With advancing age, we tend to lose our reflex notion of thirst. I have found this to be the case and I try to drink water every time I can think of it. But, there’s that old bugaboo of failing memory again. I forget that I forgot.

Anyway, I read that a large glass of water in the morning can restore about two or three points to your IQ. They say that dehydration, which is likely to be present upon arising in the morning; can actually cause your intelligence to suffer. Eureka! I thought I was just getting stupider. Not just thirsty.

This was quite a revelation to me and I attacked the newly-discovered, water-drinking practice with gusto. I started drinking a 10-12 ounce glass of water each morning upon rising. At least, on the mornings that I could remember to do so. That old memory problem again.

Sure enough! I found that in just a few minutes after a large glass of water, I felt smarter and could reason better.

I need all of the help that I can get when it comes to raising my intelligence quotient. (Just ask some of my readers). So, I reasoned that if one glass of water could raise my IQ by two or three points then two glasses would elevate it by four to six points; three glasses by six to nine digits and so on.

So, I gave it a try and was finally up to about five glass of water at a sitting. Man, was I beginning to feel smart. In fact, I got so intelligent that I was finally able to reason that I had an important decision to make:

I could continue to become smarter and smarter with my elevated water-induced IQ or I could spend the rest of each day in the bathroom. What’s the use of a genius IQ if you can’t leave the toilet?

I opted to drop back to one glass of water upon arising in the morning. Perhaps just a two or three point advantage in my IQ would be enough to get me through old age.

I don’t know why the “more is better” concept didn’t work in this case. But then I remembered my late father-in-law and his lawn fertilizer experience.

That dear old man truly loved his yard and he worked diligently to have one of the finest looking yards in town.

I’ll never forget the time he found a new lawn fertilizer with elevated nitrogen content. He gave it a try. He was one to try out anything new that came along in television advertising, be it nasal sprays, make-your-life-easier gadgets or lawn fertilizer.

Sure enough, the fertilizer turned his lawn grass green as the lush hills of Ireland. He reasoned if a little fertilizer could bring about such a dramatic improvement, then two bags would be twice as good. Perhaps three or four bags even better.

Poor soul, he succumbed to the more-is-better philosophy and killed his entire beautiful lawn before Memorial Day.

So, I suppose more is not always better when it comes to glasses of water or fertilizer. But, I can offer an example of what will work. I’m an eternal optimist and my life-long companion, Barbara, sometimes leans toward the pessimistic side of life. Her glass is often half empty while mine is always half full. We have lived our years together with both halves combining to create a life that has always been full to overflowing. Not too much, not too little but JUST Right.

In fact, we will have been together for fifty-two years next July.

It has worked out so well that if we make it to July, we plan to be married! Just kidding. Our glasses were joined in Holy Matrimony almost fifty-two years ago and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Well, perhaps there has been a thing or two that I would have changed but I forget what they are.

Maybe a glass or two of water will help me remember.