Why Can't Our Congresswoman hold a public meeting?

I certainly understand that, after the tragedy in AZ, security is to be considered.  First, if we had a functioning mental health system in this country, there would be fewer tragedies of that sort.  Second, we must not let events of that nature destroy our democratic republic. Lastly, there are methods of holding public meetings with adequate security precautions.

The real underlying reason this Congressional district has not seen public meetings is that the Congresswoman is aware enough of the real world to understand that Congress, in general, is not held in high esteem.  If we add to that her allegiance to the Far Right and her dislike of cogent ideas, she just doesn't feel at home any more in this area, I think.  The common people are altogether too common.

I recently moved here from the Midwest for personal reasons.  I had the occasion to attend county fairs in rural Kansas.  I watched as civic leaders engaged in friendly arguments, trying to be the first person to bid on the champion animal raised by a 4H youngster.  To me, this seems the best place to support that entrepreneurial spirit we hear Right Wingers espouse.  These young people select an animal, buy feed, keep records, care for the animal, and look forward to a profit when they sell.  It is about as pure a form of capitalism as one may hope to find.  And the civic leaders of those Kansas communities recognize that. They make certain the animal brings a premium to reward those youngsters for their hard work.

More recently, I attended a similar event in Southwest Washington.  I was not really surprised that our Congressperson had no presence there, let alone did she attend.  At auction time, I watched as the champion pig was offered for auction.  There were no civic organizations, no politicians there clamoring to bid.  I bought the animal at a fair price, at best.  I wished someone had bid against me.

It seems that those folks on the right should put up or shut up.

To the point, our Congresswoman does not want to hear alternatives.  She is of the opinion that, if one keeps an open mind, someone may put ideas in it.  Hubert Humphrey said something to the effect that the moral test of government is the manner in which it treats those at the dawn of life, the children, those in the shadows of life, the disabled, and those at the twilight of life, the aged.  Our Congresswoman doesn't adhere to such a philosophy. There are viable options that will be equitably painful for all.  She does not want to hear them.  There is no data to support many of the concepts she holds true.  Often, the data proves just the opposite. She does not care.

Here's Why I Can't Be a Republican, No Matter How Hard I Try

I have read of polls indicating that wealthy people are sure that they are wealthy because of something they did.  In short, they earned the right to their wealth.  While such an attitude is to be expected, factual analysis shows that the best path to riches is to be born to the right parents.

Some years ago, I happened to become acquainted with a scion of Dallas nobility.  Coincidentally his ancestor, who had accumulated the wealth long ago, came from my little home town.  It was there he began his fortune.  He was a teamster, in the day that teamsters drove teams of mules or other draft animals.  He freighted supplies across the prairie.  Since the team knew the routes, the trips were boring.  To pass the time, this fellow read law books.  Eventually, he passed the bar exam and set up a law practice.  Because his few clients had little or no cash, he was forced to take items in trade.  Low on the list were the mineral rights to farms.  The farmers thought little of signing away something they viewed as worthless.  The lawyer could do no better, so he took what he could get.

Decades later, oil became an important commodity and those mineral rights were the basis for a huge fortune. There was really no great foresight or strategy.  It just happened. Ol' Buck built a fine brick mansion which came to be known as "Ol' Red".  He then fathered a substantial number of children.  Those children did the same.  And so on.

The first generation of offspring all inherited fabulous sums of money.  Most all of them did typically Texas-sized things.  One bought an island and added it to his sizable ranch.  One built an amusement park to rival Disneyland.

After a generation or two, the fortune was diluted from the level of fabulous to perhaps substantial.  Still, there was enough so that the children went to the right schools.  In Dallas, for the boys, that was St. Mark's Prep and, for most, the college that all wealthy Dallasites consider the best in the world, Southern Methodist University.  As an aside, I would mention that SMU once deigned to play my rinky-dink regional university in basketball, probably as a joke.  That was the only college b'ball game I ever attended at which all the co-eds supporting the opposing team wore full length minks and pearl chokers!  To the point, the third and fourth generation descendants of Ol' Buck went to the best schools and made all the right connections.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I had scraped together enough money to make a down payment on a decrepit fishing cabin near a wonderful natural lake in East Texas.  It was there I ran into Shane, I'll call him. Shane had also made a down payment on a little less decrepit cabin nearby.  We began to go fishing together.  That gave us time to talk. He liked to spend time with me and hear stories of the little town his family called home but no longer lived in.

Shane was at the time embroiled in a tempestuous relationship with the granddaughter of  the fellow that owned nearly every warehouse in Dallas County, and many other counties.  One evening, she got mad and threatened to drive back to Dallas alone.  Shane went to her Jeep Grand Cherokee and  ripped all the wires he could from beneath the dash.  He walked to the lake and threw the bundle as far as he could throw.  The young lady went to a neighbor and paid to be driven to the nearest sizable airport.  There, Granddaddy's corporate jet swooped down and flew her the twenty minutes back to Big D.

Shane fancied himself a restaurateur.  He had started several dives along Greenville Avenue in Dallas.  All of them had failed, it seemed.  I knew from my dealings with him that he was just as broke as I was, if not more so.  I eventually got the courage to ask him how he was able to live a luxurious lifestyle with rich women, luxury cars, trips to Aspen and the Riviera, and a mansion in Highland Park.

He freely admitted he was broke as a twelve year old mule.  The secret, he confided, was his background and social network.  Shane told me he would come up with some crazy idea for an eatery and bar.  He would then pull out the Rolodex.  He would call twenty of his old friends from St. Mark's and/or SMU.  The validity, or even sanity, of the idea had no bearing on the deal.  Each friend was good for twenty-five grand, no questions asked.  Thus funded with a half-million bucks, he would proceed to develop the concept, paying himself a healthy salary in the process.  Eventually, he sold or closed the beanery, since he did not enjoy running the places.  If there was any profit, it was returned to investors.  If not, everybody had enjoyed being  a big shot owner of a trendy bistro and got a tax write-off.  He had done this several times and had not gone very deep in the Rolodex, at all. Finally, as he grew older, Shane established a successful eatery and settled down to run it.

I was reminded of the days shortly after my graduation from Rinky-Dink U.  Armed with a degree in Finance and a very conservative outlook, I made the rounds to every bank in Dallas County.  I got every answer but yes.

One bank VP with French cuffs and gold links told me, "You would not be able to live on what we pay."

Undaunted, I pressed on to the suburbs.  Finally, a fellow in Duncanville took me in his private office and leveled with me.

"Around here, you will find all the banks are only interested in fellows with the right background, right schools, right fraternities, you know."  I went to my car and sat in the hot Texas sun for a long time before driving home to my new wife.

Eventually, I walked into a downtown Dallas life insurance headquarters.  To my surprise, the personnel officer was a native of my little home town.  His father owned the picture show there.  In short order, I was hired into a position for which I was completely unqualified.  Coincidentally, that was where I saw Ronald Reagan.  The Gipper, lately governor of California, came to beg from the owner of the insurance company so he could run for President.

Thus, my real education began.  Without the connections, I could get nowhere.  With connections, I got places I did not belong.

Sour grapes?  By the bushel!  That does not change the relevance of all this.

The relevance of all this, in my opinion, rests in the current political craziness. Poll after poll tells us that there are so many people who have been lulled into the belief that they, and they alone, have earned and deserve health, wealth, and privilege because their forebears earned it for them.  Those of us that have never inherited, and will never inherit, a penny don't see it that way.  History has shown us that situations such as exist today will ultimately culminate in a fair redistribution of resources.  Then the process will start all over again.  The variable is the level of pain and violence that must happen in order for it to take place.  MacArthur led the troops against the Bonus Army.  Dr. King gave his life for change.

Let us hope that reason prevails, and soon.