Saul Alinsky American Politics and the 9 Principles of Journalism

5/7/2020

 

Saul Alinsky American Politics and the 9 Principles of Journalism

 

My purpose is to inject common sense into a profession that has literally gone off the rails faster than a speeding locomotive (look it up – a smoke billowing Choo Choo).  My training if you will was high school and college level English and I must admit I wasn’t that good either. However I would never go on record peddling some of the garbage that shows up regularly on cable news, television or the internet.

 

I could care less if the reporter is just chasing stories so long as the story is being reported accurately and in a timely manner. As a general rule most of the reporting is done with strict professionalism and the story line is one that captures the intended audience. There is however what I’ll refer to as the 1%ers who couldn’t report a dog leaving a doghouse without messing it up completely.

 

Beginning with President Donald J. Trump injecting himself into American politics Democratic politicians have encouraged, even egging on America’s leftist media in a spectacle worthy of late night comedy. Often it’s not even that good. It seems like graduates from college and university journalism classes have labored under the incompetent teachings of professors and adjuncts who fail to teach standards for Journalists resulting in lowering the bar so that a snake’s belly could vault over it. While watching the news or a presidential briefing I have often asked myself how that happened.

 

This is not a conspiracy theory by any stretch of the imagination but it began when Saul Alinsky’s published his book Rules for Radicals that almost went unnoticed except for young Hillary Diane Rodham. Her infatuation led to her interviewing Alinsky and writing her thesis on his teachings. I have no doubt his influence on her was life changing. Her entering into politics would take her into the highest office of the land and into the White House as FLOTUS Hillary Rodham Clinton many years later.

 

A young Barry Sotoro would also be impacted on Alinsky’s teachings and infused with radical teachings of the American Communist Party and Indonesian Islamic extremist teachings he too as Barack Obama would land in the very same White House although the path would be completely different.

 

I venture to say that an active community organizer moved Chicago politics of the Democratic Party through the Illinois state senate and into the US Senate and galvanizing Legislative Democrats, putting wings to their feet as they fought for radical change in government.

 

The media as a whole became agents of change or as some would say useful idiots. Alinsky tactics listed in his Rules for Power called for identifying, isolating and attacking a target making it personal and using truth, fiction and ridicule thereby forcing the target, primarily politicians, not being able to withstand the continual verbal assaults will usually capitulate.

 

What has become lost are the ethics or principles of journalism. So much so that reporters fancy themselves as the experts in the world of journalistic professionalism.  When stroked by political operatives and leaked sensitive political information it is not uncommon to forget the rules.

 

Journalists become like a pack of wild dogs. They feed on blood, often their own. Over the past 4 years we have seen yo-yo journalism, sprinting from one crisis to another. First it was gun violence, then caravans of illegals headed for the southern border, mixed in were sexual allegations and character assassinations and political hit pieces shifting attention of the American public to non-consequential and ill prepared incidents. From the unproven Russian Collusion narrative, to the Ukrainian/Trump Impeachment narrative the media reporters and journalists acted like sharks in a feeding frenzy. The food of choice in 2020 is COVID-19 and smearing the official US response.

 

Whether it’s the Coronavirus Task Force Briefings or official White House Press Briefings many of the media are not there to gather or report the news they see themselves as some sort of Robin Hood super hero aimed at playing on each and every word uttered from the mouth of the President. I call that petty journalism (loosely).

 

There is a fine line that separates journalists from everyone else and I will refer to it as the 9 Principles of Journalism.

 

Adapted from this www.MattJDuffy.Com article.

http://mattjduffy.com/2013/05/the-9-principles-of-journalism-for-the-ipiwoco2013/

 

1) Journalism’s first obligation is to the truth.

2) Its first loyalty is to citizens.

3) Its essence is a discipline of verification.

4) Its practitioners must maintain an independence from those they cover.

5) It must serve as an independent monitor of power.

6) It must provide a forum for public criticism and compromise.

7) It must strive to make the significant interesting and relevant.

8) It must keep the news comprehensive and proportional.

9) Its practitioners must be allowed to exercise their personal conscience.

 

I urge those in the journalistic profession to refresh themselves on what makes good journalism and what does not. You are or you’re not! – I am the Real Truckmaster!

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When is politics just too much?

5-7-2020

 

When is politics just too much?

 

The great white hope of the Democratic Party is the persona of Joe Biden former Vice President, former Senator and lifelong Democrat from the great state of Delaware. His presidential campaign is based on hope and change. He hopes he will be reelected so he can change America back to the grandeur of the Obama presidency.

 

Grandpa Joe is demonstrating not his political prowess or his acute knowledge of world affairs but in my opinion clear signs of Alzheimer and advanced stage of dementia. He should be pulled aside by family, friends and medical professionals and protected, not put on a political stage and milked like a cow. This is clearly a case of elder abuse of the highest magnitude.

 

Politics breed strange bedfellows. Out of the abundance of Democratic hopefuls who each claimed to be “The Only One” qualified to beat President Donald Trump and take back the White House they are lined up behind the only one not to fold saying “Pick Me”! They have been exposed to political power and know that should they end up on the winning ticket it will be a short stretch to enact the 25th Amendment immediately after the inauguration of #46 for mental incompetency.

 

The Biden political legacy is that fraught with public displays of inappropriate behavior from a lifetime of public disservice. Keeping him in the political limelight is just plain wrong. Democratic Americans are like sheep heading to the slaughter house. They ignore the signs all around them as they feed upon the hatred of those who do not “follow the rules” of the Democratic Party. To all you Democrats who keep pouring gasoline on this bonfire I say SHAME, SHAME ON YOU! – I am the Real Truckmaster!

 

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Blame It On Corona

5-6-2020

 

Blame It On Corona

 

Have you seen the reports of dairy farmers dumping milk, egg producing farms smashing eggs and vegetable farms plowing under their fields all because of COVID-19? It sounds unbelievable because when you go into the grocery store eggs and poultry are limited per purchase, pork and beef are as well and milk and vegetable prices are rather low for consumer purchases. That is going on not only here in the US but in Canada as well. So what’s going on? Who’s behind it?

 

Ranchers are being told to prevent cows from producing milk, reduce pig herds and more because of the Coronavirus is making it harder for farmers to sell their products. I’m no expert and neither are others who raise the question WHY?

 

Have people suddenly begun eating less? – I think not.

 

Are restaurants no longer preparing and serving meals? – Everywhere we have meals to go.

 

What about land prices? Is there a soon to be flood of small farms and ranches going under? If so who is standing in the wings waiting to snatch up these soon to be available properties?

 

What’s happening in Mexico, South America, Europe, and Asia and throughout the civilized world?

 

First we have the Corona affecting virtually the entire world. Economies have shut down with few exceptions. In the US we have a nation that has been shut down and now state after state are starting to open up only to be faced with a lack of necessary food products. I’m not an alarmist but ALARM, ALARM, ALARM bells are going off in my head!

 

A recent report gave reference to a high percentage of stock shares of major meat processing plants are owned by China.

 

Let that sink in!

 

Americans have been pushed into a corner and soon it will be time to come out swinging. Am I ready? Are you ready?

 

China has leveraged itself into the European Union’s 5G market and that threatens our national security. The Defense Department is prepares to move Americas military intelligence assets away from the 5G foreign influence. We have 5G all over the place here at in the US, so does that mean that OUR 5G networks tie into those of China? Will pulling the plug on 5G result in a tremendous sucking sound as the internet goes down the vortex of a black hole?

 

We maybe should seriously begin looking at China and the origins of the SARS-Cov-2 (COVID-19) after all it all started with the Wuhan Virus, right? – I am the Real Truckmaster!

 

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Born in the Wrong Era

5-6-2020

 

Born in the Wrong Era

 

Were you or someone you know just born in the wrong century? They should have been riding with Jesse James or Daniel Boone or maybe Davy Crockett? For me that someone is my brother Jess. I write this lovingly as a tribute to one of my favorite brothers who I’ve always felt was born in the wrong era. To many he’s known as dad, grandpa, uncle, cousin or plain old Jess. I’m glad he wasn’t born in an earlier era or we might have missed the wilder parts of life.

 

As kids the four Wilson boys were a tight knit group. It was like putting a bobcat in a gunnysack and there was always someone poking that gunnysack – that’d be Jess. We had lots of squabbles which ended up at times resembling a dogpile with Jerry, Johnnie, and Jesse and of course me (someone had to get to the top of the pile) it wasn’t always easy.

 

I’d have to say Jess never took the road less traveled. In fact you might even say he made his own way, quite often at his own expense. Jess loved being outdoors. He thrived and survived in the wilderness areas of Idaho and Oregon or wherever the trail took him.

 

I can only scratch the surface recounting his running days of herding sheep as he evaded the law after escaping St. Anthony Juvenile Detention Center in Southern Idaho only to be caught and taken back.

 

Jess liked to tinker with stuff. He used to ride an old Indian motorcycle which had a suicide shift. On at least one occasion he had someone pull him, on an old gravel road trying to get it started.

 

Another completely unrelated time Jess rode into Homedale leather and all, headed straight back to the john to relieve himself and frightened the sole occupant inside so bad that guy took off running out of the place for dear life. Jess came out a bit later and as he was fixing to leave he came face to face with a huge Guamanian police officer. As best as I remember Jess stopped, looked up at him and thought to himself, “Why not”? Jess took a swing at the cop and doesn’t remember much else except being in the slammer (a pattern you might say)?

 

Actually Jess is a mountain man at 5’8” or thereabouts depending on how he puts his boots on. Jess has worked as a truck driver, lumberjack and plain old trapper, hunter and mushroom picker. He’s had more bodily ailments and broken bones than anyone has a right to survive.

 

Jess lives in the mountains around Ola, Idaho just an hour’s drive north of Boise with his wife Diane and however many kids and grandkids at times as many as he can cram into his place. On the lighter side Jess is a musician and song writer. He can jump on a piano or guitar and I often wonder if he plays logs and trees while out traipsing through the woods? One of his songs that seemed to capture the little ones is called “Empty Bucket”.

 

Jess can make you laugh, cry and wanna run and hide. He can sing, shoot and holler with the best of them. One time Jess was trying to figure out how to secure his rifle to the mirror-arm of his little pickup. I asked him what he was doing? (Notice I already said what he was doing, right?) Jess looked at me as he was working and said he received his handicapped hunting permit so he could hunt from the car. Jess was so laid up at the time he could barely walk. Mystified I asked him, “Who’s gonna carry your game to the car if you get one?” He looked at me and said “I never thought of that”. That’s my brother, my little brother Jess. He has a whole passel of kids (all grown now) and a mess of grandkids that keep him from becoming bored.

 

Did I say that Jess likes to tinker with things? He used to fix dad’s lawnmowers so dad could set up in the front yard or out by the road and sell used lawnmowers. Jess fixed em and dad sold em. All too often dad had to take em back and get Jess to fix em again and again.

 

More recently my youngest brother Jered done went and wrecked his pickup truck on the roads outside of Ola or Sweet. The other guy smacked into him so hard the insurance company just wrote it off as a total loss. Jered got a newer truck and guess who bought the totaled truck – yup Jess! Jess found that bondo or some version of super glue worked on mending the transmission so he could drive it. I don’t know if it worked long term, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Jess wouldn’t find a way to take the transmission out of a Ford Falcon and make it work on an F250 truck!

 

Just so you don’t get any ideas that Jess has done kicked the bucket. He didn’t or I’d a heard it all the way here in Colorado. No Jess is very much alive and kicking, just not as fast or hard as he used to. I’m a figuring that Jess is gonna have himself a birthday on the 13th of May and he still has a long way to go before he exceeds the speed limit on I-80.

 

Jess used to talk about moving to Alaska where there weren’t so many people and the government didn’t control you! (Ha – Ha – Ha) Yah Right!

 

I wish Jess a HAPPY BIRTHDAY as he turns 69 years old. – You’re older brother – the Real Truckmaster!

 

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The Heart Attack (Updated)

'Your diet is so bad that your arteries are all blocked, but the angioplasty should open things up and get the maple syrup flowing again.'

5-4-2020

 

The Heart Attack

(Updated)

 

I just read a post from an old army buddy and FB friend Galen Slatter who recently went thru a heart attack, the angioplasty and is back home. This got me to thinking about my time in the hospital.

 

My tale of woe happened just 3 days before my 49th birthday way back in 1998, I had taken our dog to the groomer up the street for a haircut. Back at home I grabbed a cup of coffee and went into my home travel agency office in the basement. I’m not sure how much time elapsed but I began feeling pain in my chest. It was like a brick was being pressed down really hard so I went through the steps to shut down my computer (the correct way), then I walked into my wife’s home beauty salon clutching my chest.

 

She too one look at me and asked if I was ok as I was white as a ghost? She left her customer to let herself out and lock up. We live about 2 minutes away from Peterson AFB. I was clutching my chest, while she drove through the gate to the USAF hospital that had recently downgraded to a clinic. As we parked and began to get out of the car we spotted this huge sign over the old ER entry way, “NO EMERGENCY ROOM”.

 

We were helped inside by an active duty airman on crutches and as we went thru the doorway he hollered “This man’s having a heart attack”! (That’s what I managed to tell him on the way in.)

 

From out of nowhere (or everywhere) there were doctors, nurses and corpsmen all over me, getting me on a gurney, checking my pulse, asking lots of questions and then one of them got on the phone and CALLED 911. Like What?

 

Why would a hospital (er clinic) call 911? Aren’t they the subject matter experts in this kind of thing?

 

My wife’s primary doctor was there. He kept asking me questions, ie: do I have high blood pressure. I told him no, my wife has high blood pressure, somebody keep an eye on her!

 

The doctor began giving me some little tablets (Nitro) which didn’t do a thing.

 

Soon an ambulance arrived (hence the 911 call) and I was whisked away at given more of those little tablets, nothing. We made it to a local hospital where my pastor was waiting inside the ER entrance.

 

A cardiac surgeon came out of the elevator and away we went upstairs and into the operating room. I was awake as they ran the angioplasty thingy thru the artery and up to the blockage and inserted a stint. Offhand I don’t remember the numbers but they were something like 99% blockage on one side, I’m not sure about the other side, although I could go into my records to see the actual numbers.

 

Well after the blockage was cleared the pain stopped. They inserted a stent and I thought good now I can go home now. I told the ER nurse I was ready to go home, but no the doctor wanted to keep me in the hospital for observation for a couple of nights before releasing me.

 

It’s was a good thing I went into the ICU and later that evening I began getting hungry. The nurse was able to get an apple and it tasted real good. I’m not sure how long, but an hour or so I exploded. Vomiting up applesauce, apple parts and apple bits all over my ICU suite. I’m sure the nurses on duty weren’t pleased with their new patient.

 

I finally settled down to sleep and awoke with a sort of wet, sticky feeling somewhere near my nether regions. So I pressed that red button and the nurse popped in. She appeared a bit irritated like I took her away from something important as she asked what I needed.

 

I asked her if I was supposed to be wet and sticky. She pulled away the sheet and panicked. While she climbed up on the bed she shouted for backup. She was applying pressure to the femoral artery (where the angioplasty had been inserted). It seems that the tourniquet had come loose and I had begun to bleed out. Made me glad that I was still in the hospital.

 

They moved me into a recovery room the next day and night, plenty of time for my family to come visit. One of my two grandkids at the time was about 4 years old, asked me if the doctor took out my heart. I told him YES, papa has no heart. Then told him no everything was ok.

 

Surprise, surprise my mom and dad drove up from Boise, Idaho. I was surprised because they had trouble with the altitude at 6000 feet. They stayed for a few days to insure I would be ok. I was working at a teleconference company so I asked my mom drive me over to the company so I could let them know I would be out of work for a couple of weeks – doctor’s orders.

 

When I walked into the call center my supervisor saw me and asked why I was there? I told her something like don’t you have me on a call this hour? Not funny. Anyway I told her about the doctor’s orders and she said she knew already.

 

It seems one of my daughters called and told her about my heart attack and would be out for a couple of weeks.

 

Well as you can probably tell I survived and didn’t lose my Wilson sense of humor, thank goodness or the next 23 years would have been a bust. – I am the Real Truckmaster!

 

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Say No to MADE IN CHINA – Really?

No to Made in China

5-2-2020

 

Say No to MADE IN CHINA – Really?

 

People say the CORONAVIRUS is the only thing that China has made that lasted. What about the Great Wall of China, I think it’s been around at least longer than the 2010 Karate Kid movie with Jackie Chan and Jaden Smith.

 

When I hear “Don’t buy it if it says “Made in China” I say – YEAH”! Then I chuckle to myself and say do they really know what they’re saying, probably not? I mean it sounds good and it will surely punish China for springing that nasty virus on us and on the world around us. However we don’t really know what or how much of a product is made in China now do we?

 

I liken it to holding a nail while someone else hits it with a hammer. Who’s really being punished the one steading the nail or holding the hammer?

 

Think about it.

 

We’ve come to realize that over a relatively short period of time our government has removed the requirement for country of origin on product labeling because it produces an unfair advantage for products produced in the USA over those made elsewhere.

 

Recently we’ve been made aware that China produces a huge quantity of our prescription medications and I don’t think it is stamped on each pill or packaging material either.

 

Go to your favorite store like Walmart, Target, K-Mart, Dollar Tree, Family Dollar or Dollar General and look to see how many products are made here in the good old USA? Let me know how that pans out for you? Try ordering something online and chances are it was imported from or ordered directly from factories in China.

 

Now we had this discussion several years ago about automobiles. We don’t yet import any from China, but we did from Japan for a long time. Now we manufacture many models right here in the USA with brand names like Toyota, Honda, Hyundai, Fiat and Mercedes. Trouble is many of them are assembled in Canada or Mexico too.

 

So if we want to protect ourselves from buying a Chinese made American flag we’d stand a better chance of looking for a snowball in the inferno of hades.  Don’t go through your house looking for Made in China or you’d probably just end up with an empty house.

 

I’d say do your due diligence and seek out products made in USA and begin replacing those made elsewhere, but take your time about it. It wasn’t that long ago when Made in USA wasn’t a good thing. Workers did only what was required to get a paycheck. Quality was not a priority. Look at the US Post Office or airline baggage handlers – how often do they misplace things or fail to deliver but still continue working there? Someone once said when you do a job make it good enough to put your name on it showing the world you’re proud of your work. Men have stamped their name on an idea well before it was trendy. Look around and tell me who knows the actual name of Inspector #12? – I am the Real Truckmaster!

 

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Where Does Your Rubber Meet the Road?

flat tire 2

5-3-2020

 

Where Does Your Rubber Meet the Road?

 

Time for a little self-reflection, long haul truckers and bikers know it’s important to keep the shiny side up and the rubber side down. Bikers say it’s the journey not the destination and truckers deliver the goods. There is a lot more than meets the eye and all too often we are just too busy to stop and smell the roses (Thanks Mac Davis).

 

Football players know to get that pigskin across the goal because winning is everything as they seek that trophy and the coveted Super Bowl ring. It takes lots of practice to hone the skills and develop the stamina needed to make it, yet not everyone does. There are winners and losers in every game.

 

Students know a diploma or certificate is their goal at every level from kindergarten to graduate or trade school. Every test measures their level of understanding against themselves and their peers.

 

Emergency medical technicians and other first responders know their actions so often determine the outcome in the struggle for life over death. It is never just a routine stop or call for law enforcement, being prepared for the unexpected is always necessary.

 

Soldiers know that freedom is never free. They lay their lives on the line at home or abroad and on the field of battle to accomplish the mission so they can return to family and friends.

 

Parents know that family is important and every child is a gift from almighty God, the creator of life. Their hopes and dreams become our hope for a brighter future. May they learn from the mistakes of the past and press on toward the high calling that God has placed on their lives. Every soul is important to God and every life matters.

 

As you travel the highway of life remember that every job is important. Every task is to be done right. Every step is a step forward. Never travel back over the road to regret. There are no second chances to make a first impression and that water under the bridge washes into a gateway of possibilities for someone else. What is important to you? Where does your rubber meet the road? – I am the Real Truckmaster!

 

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Forgotten Soldiers

Forgotten Soldiers

 

It was August 2013 after joining a Vietnam Veterans forum online that I wrote an article explaining the plight American military personnel stationed in Thailand during the Vietnam War came face to face with after the war and in the years since. I entitled the article “The Insignificant and Unknown of the Vietnam War”. Needless to say someone took offense to my article and went so far as to accuse me of stolen valor by calling me a wannabe and I should be ashamed of wearing the ribbons. For those who were there and those who read the hit job on me it was just a tip of the iceberg. I didn’t write something to elicit empathy, sympathy or a kind warm fuzzy by someone reading the article. So let me delve into that pit one more time and hopefully calmer heads will prevail.

 

America went to war in the “Second Indochina Conflict” or dubbed by the Vietnamese as “The American War” we called it the “Vietnam War”. Like many of my brothers and sisters in arms who answered the call we went, we served and we came home to a country that had completely changed. Many can relate to what happened after 9/11 or more recently after COVID-19 as the country headed into a new era.

 

Back in the 60s and 70s we came home to hippies, drugs and wild orgies sweeping across America. Many of us missed being part of that, but came home to an “in-your-face” hostile environment. We were verbally assaulted, spit on. Instead of returning as conquering heroes for doing our duty for our country, we were made to feel like second class citizens.

 

For Thailand Veterans of the Vietnam War we had another battle altogether. We were truly the insignificant and unknown participants of the Vietnam War. Many in country Vietnam veterans only knew of Bangkok when they went on R & R. Had they been stationed in Thailand they would have seen a totally different side of the war. For us there was no R & R. We were there for a 12 month tour (same as in Vietnam) and we were hard charging all the time 24/7/365. Most of us were the support troops doing paperwork, shuffling forms, processing payrolls and conducting personnel actions for everyone in our individual units, including the flight crews flying combat missions out of Royal Thai Air Force Bases, across the fence and into the skies over Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia.

 

Some of us traversed unknown territory over primitive unfinished roadways hauling ammunition, explosive devices (bombs), beer, sodas, toilet paper, construction supplies and refrigerated products out of cold storage warehouses. If it was requested through the supply system we delivered it.

 

We conducted military training for mechanics, truck drivers and aircraft pilots for Royal Thai and Laotian personnel so they too could join in the fight against communism. Every job mattered and none were too small or too large. Many of us extended our 12 month tour as a way of insuring that supplies would continue to be delivered in spite of unit being constantly understrength. I served in Thailand from February 1968 until July 1970 then went back home and into a culture I did not know or enjoy.

 

I didn’t plan on a life in the military but I chose to return to active duty and what I found was the acceptance of my Thailand service by my fellow soldiers was completely lacking. As the drawdown of military forces in Southeast Asia was in full swing in the early 1970s I soon found myself in units being reactivated after combat tours in Vietnam. Some of the personnel were Vietnam veterans while others were fresh out of advanced training.

 

During a uniform inspection I was chastised for not wearing a combat patch on my dress uniform with my Vietnam ribbons. That was when I began to see a dividing line between those who were in country and those who were not. I hate to break it to them but I was in country, just not Vietnam. I soon learned not to talk about my Thailand service unless it was with someone who had been there and done that and had the shirt.

 

Later in my career my unit was preparing for an impending military action into a country I had been stationed in after Thailand. I was told that because I had no combat experience I would be entrusted with unit personnel who were not being deployed. It’s even possible that lack of combat experience affected my promotions.

 

You see in the military it’s not so much about location as it is about the job. Everyone is trained to be an infantryman first and a specialist second. A support becomes a combat support and functioning regardless of the environment is as important as shooting a weapon and taking up a defensive position.

 

After more than 22 years of active duty in countries around the globe doing what must be done to accomplish the mission having someone who spent maybe 3 years in the military with 12 months of combat experience chastise me for putting on my uniform or wearing my authorized awards and decorations does not phase me.

 

It’s hard to believe that I’ve been retired longer than I was on active duty and I’m still fighting this battle, but this time it’s a battle with my own government. It seems that while in Southeast Asia in the 1960s and 1970s exposed me to various herbicides which began to noticeably attack my body several years after leaving active duty. Over time it became more apparent and so much so that I began having medical issues attributed to herbicide exposure. My battle is for the VA to recognize my exposure for treatment and compensation. The VA says that because I didn’t have “boots-on-the-ground” in Vietnam I must prove I had duty “at or near the perimeter” of a military base and I must also show proof that I was exposed to herbicides and at a specific base.

 

Sometimes I feel that us Forgotten Soldiers are supposed to lie down, shut up and simply fade away! – I am the Real Truckmaster!

 

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Case of Mistaken Identity

57109895_433815940718338_7609589941407842304_n2

5-1-2020

 

Case of Mistaken Identity

 

I thought it appropriate to start off the new month of May with stories of mistaken identity. People have a tendency to look at you and say you look just like your mom or dad while some think you are an actor or somebody important. Let me say right up front that you are somebody important. God created only 1 of you and nobody else will do. I personally have never been mistaken for a movie star or a famous public figure but I have been mistaken as to who I really was and looks can be deceiving.

 

In my senior year of high school I went to school with my Uncle Gary. When asked if we were related (we were both the same age and seniors) they always thought we were cousins. I don’t know that I ever got that point across?

 

While in the Army stationed in Colorado I had taken a trip to Idaho to go hunting with the folks. I followed them as we wound up, around and through the mountains in Idaho arriving at the campsite just as it was getting dark. My brother Jess had stepped out to talk with the folks and I guess I had run a bit behind. As I approached the van stopped in the middle of the road Jess saw me coming and told dad to pull over so this pickup could get by. I was military and carried Idaho plates so he didn’t recognize me or my vehicle. Dad said that’s just your brother Joe behind us.

 

There was the time when I came to visit the folks in Boise and often it was to take mom or dad to a doctor appointment. One time mom had a followup with her primary doctor and I drove her to the hospital. I dropped her off at the main entrance and met her up at the 2nd or 3rd floor where her doctor’s office was. She was sitting down as I got to the waiting room. Shortly they called her for the check in procedure and then took her back to a room to wait for the doctor. A nurse came to me in the waiting room and said I could come back to where my wife was and wait with her for the doctor. As we went back I told her that was not my wife, but my mom.

 

Several times I’d come to Boise to visit the folks and inevitably I’d go see dad in rehab. Quite often a nurse or attendant would ask if we were related. I’d either say he was my brother or they named him after me. Then dad would say that’s my oldest boy from Colorado. We’d really throw them off when my brothers Jess and Jered would show up, because we didn’t look anything alike (I don’t wear a beard well). One of us would cop a Wilson joke and we’d all laugh!

 

Mom didn’t always agree with our jokes either. Especially, when we were in the other room all talking about how as kids we were angels. She’d let out a holler “No You Weren’t” that kept us rolling on the floor laughing. I’d tell her, “Maw, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

 

Probably the last laugh was when we were young, growing up together in and around Homedale, Idaho where mom had went to school. We’d go into a store and someone would ask whose kids she was babysitting? She’d say I’m not babysitting these are my boys. By age 21 she had 4 boys 1 redhead and 3 blondes.

 

That red-headed stepchild joke didn’t always set well with me and those blond jokes probably didn’t set well with my brothers either. One time that I know of my brother Jess got stopped by ICE because they thought he was illegal, but no he was just a Wilson.

 

It’s times like these when I miss mom, dad and brother John – RIP guys, Until we meet again. For the rest of us we meet online or on the phone every now and again. Love you guys! – I am the Real Truckmaster!

 

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Patriots and Patriotism

4-30-2020

 

Patriots and Patriotism

 

I’m reminded that patriots are both born and made and love our Country, its flag and the Constitution come in all sizes and political persuasions. Above all we give thanks to God for it is his grace that our nation exists. The Word of God is the basis for our Constitution that declares everyone is created equal and endowed with certain unalienable rights given not by a state or a federal government, but by almighty God. One can be a patriot without shoving it down someone else’s throat. Patriotism is infectiously displaying love for one’s country and all that it stands for.

 

Symbolically in the United States we celebrate the birth of our nation every 4th of July.  Traditionally there are parades, fireworks and hotdogs at public parks across our great nation. It is a time of showing off the Red, White and Blue; the stars and stripes and paying tribute to our first responders and to our military that protect us and our freedoms every day.

 

It is not necessary to have been in the military to be patriotic, yet everyone who has served in the military overseas comes to appreciate seeing the Stars and Stripes waving above a military compound or an American Embassy in a foreign land. President John F. Kennedy once said “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country”.

 

The Land of Opportunity is what draws immigrants from across the globe for the opportunity to live the American dream. They come for a better life for themselves and their families in a land where hard work and freedom brings happiness.

 

We’ve been afforded a new focus because of the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020. We’ve seen how private industry and public office can come together and do the seemingly impossible. Let us not waste the opportunity we’ve been given.

 

Politics is a chicken with a left wing and a right wing, at the end of the day it’s still a chicken.

 

This is a presidential election year that comes about every 4 years. Don’t listen to the hype from either political aisle. Take lightly what is broadcast over the airwaves or across the internet. Think about what’s important to you, freedom – to worship God; protect and raise a family; start a business; or to travel? There are those who promise the moon yet are unable to deliver; who threaten to impose restrictions by altering or ignoring the rights guaranteed under the Constitution. Don’t be fooled.

 

As American citizens one of the basic rights we cherish is the right to vote, to make our voices heard and not that of a political party. Be sure to cast your vote for the candidate that represents YOU best. It’s not about political party it’s about you, your family and the American dream. Let your voice be heard and your vote count. – I am the Real Truckmaster!

 

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