Run Away Another Day

Up here, the Old Place is the best place to get away from it all.  We are way back in the woods, on a big lake, everybody knows everybody, and except for sugar, flour, and coffee, we are all self-sustaining. Even so, people still ask me, "Col. Jim, is there any crime up here?" My reply is pretty much the same as everyone else's, "Back in the day, we had a couple of bad'uns come up here thinking to lay low. . . But don't you worry, no one'll ever find their bodies." Yep, the area around the lake is a safe place, and we guard our safety jealously... but wisely.  Here then is an example of wisely. 

Before I was born, my young cousin Clyde Barrow and his girlfriend Bonnie Parker found their way to the lake and knocked on my grandfather's door. The Old Place looked almost exactly like it does today. By a strange coincidence, both MaMie and Pop were at the lake. Pop was fishing, so MaMie opened the door. Of course, she immediately recognized her cousin and, knowing she was in no danger, invited him in and put on the kettle. While Bonnie went around to the outhouse, the two cousins had a chat. Now, without sliding out of facts and into speculation, we all know that the couple left the Old Place uninjured. So, Col. Jim, what's it got to do with safety?

Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow were not serial killers, and they were not crazed mass murderers. Most of the people with whom they crossed paths parted amicably enough, even some members of local law enforcement. During their short criminal lives, the two developed the reputation of not harming those who were cordial to them or who, at worst, stepped aside. These, let us call them, "non-victims" were mostly plain small-town country folks who went to church twice a week, always welcomed strangers, and left their doors unlocked. It would never have occurred to these people to be rude or unwelcoming. The odd thing is, neither would it have occurred to Bonnie or Clyde. So, Col. Jim, what's it got to do with safety?

As we all know, lately the world has become like a "Riots Are Us Convention." Remember, modern rioters are not just regular folks who have had their temper stirred up. They are part of an organized group, bent on terrorism, and here's the scary part: most of them have been paid to be there. This is not your traditional mob mentality. This is a methodical, dedicated cult like group. The apparent emotion is well-rehearsed Gaslighting.

If you are unfortunate enough to find yourself in the middle of such an event, blend in.  Fight, and I do not care how many black belts you have in Wa Rang Go, you will lose. Keep your head up and eyes averted, smile. (I am one of you.)  If pushed, step aside, move slowly yet deliberately, and get clear of the area. If you approach a LEO, keep your hands in plain sight and raised. (I am not a threat to you, officer.)  Before you know it, you are safe.

Oh, so what happened to Bonnie and Clyde?  They had coffee and some of MaMie's homemade pecan pie. She hugged their necks and admonished them both to be careful and look out for each other.  The two desperados departed... and within three hours, were dead.  Sometimes you get the bear, and sometimes the bear gets you. 

Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place, I am, Col. Jim.

How to Feather a Better "Cuckoo's Nest"

Up here at the Old Place, we always considered ourselves off the beaten path. It keeps friendships close and worries far away.  Around here, if you have a problem, you tell Ruth, she tells everybody else, brings it out in the open, no more problem. One afternoon, in late June 1959, I was at the General Store with Mom and Dad. Mom was picking up a can of coffee while Dad and Ruth discussed the depredations of our honorable Governor.  I was on the front porch enjoying some root beer stick candy.  All at once, in a cloud of dust, this big black Cadillac limousine pulled up out of the blue. The back door flew open, and out tumbled one half-empty bottle of Old Tennishoes followed by the stocking feet of one Earl K. Long, Governor of Louisiana.  (Partially as a result of political rascallry, Earl found himself committed to the state mental hospital in Jackson, Louisiana. It did not help that several well-known Pros claimed that the Governor paid extra to keep his boots on or that he once took a shotgun to his lawnmower!) He ultimately “escaped” and, after carousing his way across three states, somehow found himself face to face with yours truly, then a plucky three-year-old.  Even back then, I loved cars, so I got up off the porch, hopped down the steps and picked up the shiny bottle. Long climbed to his feet, looked me square in the eye, and declared, “Good job, boy, that's the best damn bottle rescue I've ever seen!  Here’s a hundred dollars!”  To everyone's astonishment, Earl forked over a crisp C note. As "crazy" as all this sounds, you just sorta have to love a fella like that. So, Col. Jim, what's it got to do with safety?

Over the years, the old Colonel has learned a thing or two about mental health concerns, one being fundraising.   I can tell you working people donate in very specific ways, to very specific causes. Illnesses, diseases, syndromes, and ailments all have their supporters and detractors, as do mental health challenges. When I was growing up, there were “insane asylums,” with cute, funny nicknames like “nut house” or “booby hatch.” This sort of disparagement did not help. Now, after years of study, hard, thankless, and sometimes dangerous work, the stigma attached to mental illness...is still there. Thus, the cycle continues, with underfunded mental health facilities, undertrained medical professionals, and lawyers who choose the easy way out, incarceration rather than productive treatment. 

In the midst of all this apathy and ignorance, the left-leaning Hollywood and the mainstream media began to glorify serial murderers and cop killers. There was money to be made rebranding self-serving political causes out of mass shootings, riots, and abortions. The objective of the left has been to make credible the belief that persons who committed such atrocities were somehow… perfectly justified, normal, healthy folk, who were only “expressing their feelings.”  The fact that these behaviors were themselves the result of mental illness, tragically, only served to compound the fear. "Temporary Insanity" has even been used as a device to keep criminals out of jail. In this kind of environment, what hope does any person have with genuine mental challenges?

Comparison and contrast. 

For most of its existence, the medical profession has been primarily tasked with curing illness and disease, repairing injuries, and thwarting death. The safety profession has always been tasked with preventing illness, injury, and death in the first place!  Both professions have done significant research, improving life and reducing risk.  Each has its own laws and statutes.  Yes, illness and disease can not always be cured, injuries can not always be repaired, but they CAN all be prevented. (Think well before you argue this point.)

Cause and Effect

So why is a mental illness so often treated as though it were contagious?  We all learned the basic causes of physical health issues: virus, bacteria, something we ate or drank, sharp objects, falls, bees and wasps, and temperature extremes. The reason, or as we in the Safety profession refer to as the "Root Cause," of why mental illness presents no such clear instrument of cause is a lack of understanding brought on by insufficient training.

We also learned the basic symptoms of physical health issues: a cough, sneeze, headaches and muscle aches, nausea, vomiting, cuts and bruises, stings, and burns. Symptoms of mental illness, however, may appear no different from those with which we are already familiar; primary symptoms require very specific training to even notice. Ignorance of this fact results in the current misunderstanding of the extant behaviors.

For example, there are many reasons why people hurt others intentionally: Love, Hate, Greed, Power, Arrogance, Selfishness, Neglect, Distraction, and sometimes just plain old laziness. Instances of a person with mental illness frightening, injuring, or even killing another person are more often not intentional. This leads to misinterpretation, which leads to fear and incarceration in facilities unsuited to addressing mental illness.

So, if we know all of this, why can we not prevent it?  You are not going to like this, folks, it is because unless people have a family member experiencing serious mental issues. . . it is someone else's problem.  Seems crazy, no?  BTW, I kept the $100 bill.

Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place, I am, Col. Jim.

Does Safety Prepare Us for the Afterlife?

Up here at the Old Place, we are what some would call “God-fearing people.”  Fear, meaning, implicit trust in God’s Divine Providence, not the kind of fear that can manifest itself when we are exposed to the appearance of supernatural beings such as angels and saints, or apparitions of the dead. The assumption is that these are sent at the behest of a “supreme being,” God. Without getting into religion, there are three ways to consider the concept of a supreme being: 1. There is one supreme being; 2. There are many supreme beings.  3. There are no supreme beings.

 #1. There Is One Supreme Being:

Pick up the Holy Bible and turn to Exodus, where God introduces Himself to Moses. When Moses asks God, “When they shall say to me, ‘What is his name?’  What shall I say unto them?”  God replies, “I AM THAT I AM.”  The importance placed on that phrase, as God uses it to identify Himself in the burning bush, stems from the Hebrew conception of monotheism, that God exists by Himself for Himself, and is the uncreated Creator who is independent of any concept, force, or entity; therefore, "I am who am" (before, present, and ongoing).

 #2. There Are Many Supreme Beings:

Primitive man espoused the belief in many supreme beings based on the magnificence and power demonstrated by nature: thunder, lightning, earthquakes, the scorching of the sun, and the fury of the sea. We know them as Zeus, Apollo, Helios, and Poseidon. They even called the planet “Mother Earth” because, like a woman, the planet brought forth life.  This concept is rare in modern culture.

 #3. There Are No Supreme Beings:

Many people are raised in this belief by their parents. Others turned to this belief and away from belief in God because of a significant event in their lives.  God somehow failed to live up to their expectations of what any all-powerful supreme being should have done…not “could” have done. These "atheists" often make a very public god out of empirical evidence, a smoke screen they privately ignore. The irony is that despite a total lack of empirical evidence, most avowed atheists do seem to believe in the likelihood of other intelligent life out there in the vastness of the cosmos, just not a supreme being who created the whole thing.

It is noteworthy that there are currently no earthly religions that deny the possibility of “life out there,” so at least we agree on something. To suggest that we are alone is best left to an old quote from Star Trek by Mr. Spock.  “There are other forms of intelligence on earth, doctor.  Only human arrogance would assume the message must be meant for man.”  To wit, only human arrogance would assume homo-sapiens are the only intelligent life form in the universe.

Humans, so far, can not create supreme beings, but often make gods of things.  The concept of a god is all about perception and control. A child looks up to his or her parents as if they were gods.  They provide all wants and heal all ills.  To a student, their teacher or a professor is like a god, one who can change their entire future with one grade. To a working adult, their boss is like a god, nuff said. The wealthy sometimes cast themselves as gods by becoming drunk on power, because they can give themselves everything they desire. The unimpeachable hypocrisy of the atheist is that they embrace all these concepts and thus forgo any interest in the safety of salvation.

So, Col. Jim, what’s it got to do with Safety? Safety is about First Order Thinking, the prevention of undesired loss… a plan to maintain life.  Safety is also an action closely tied to Second Order Thinking, intentionally following a plan for managing the consequences that come after the first step in a process. For people, the first step is life, and this is where safety comes in. Life is a process that can result in a near-infinite number of consequences, all of which can end in death, even before birth. Broken down into its simplest form, the second step then is that period in our existence after our life is over.  To accomplish this, I recommend a simple system created by my friend Col. Eric Bertolet, “Work safe, Play safe, Live safe, and Love safe.”

Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place, I am, Col. Jim.

Respect: A Young Man's Toughest Challenge

    Spring is settling in up here at the Old Place.  Perhaps a bit more slowly than we would like, but Mother Nature is a patient lady.  I had decided to clean out last year's squirrel nests up in the attic. I figured they would get in there anyway, so why not give 'um a nice clean room!  I was coming down with the last load when Ruth stopped by with my mail. Ruth's store is the RFD drop for any local post. There was a note from a fella I had not heard from in years, a real blast from the past. It was short and sweet, like the old woman's dance, "Heard about your 'Night Job.' It might be a good time to share what Dad said the first time you met.  F."  I think so too.

    One summer, my friend Bill "The Wild Buffalo" Bowlus and I went to an all-boys water skiing camp in North Carolina. The owner was a no-nonsense Christian named George Pickering. During lunch one day in our second week, a middle-aged gentleman with what I call "Preacher Hair" came in and sat down with us. His conversation was light, and he spoke with us, not to us. The man was Mr. Pickering's best friend, the Rev. Billy Graham! As a young boy, I found some really creative ways to screw up.  Being a young boy, aspiring for manhood, I realized there was a "next" level opportunity sitting two feet away.  I plucked up my courage.

     "What's on your mind, Jim?"
     "Sir, do you have a son?"  Good lord, how pitiful.  I have the chance to probe the mind of Billy 'Freakin' Graham, and THAT's the best I could do?
     "Yes, I do, his name is Franklin," he replied.
     "Does he ever get in trouble?" I felt my ancestors roaring in laughter!
     "He sure does," he said with a laugh. "But is that really what you want to ask?"
     "No, sir," I said.
     "What about some advice that I gave my own son, Franklin?" he offered.
     "That'd be great," I replied, feeling not unlike a fool.
     "As a young man," he began, "be respectful of others. Especially those you disagree with or do not like, and even more especially with women and girls."

It was not the great earth-moving revelation I was expecting, but it did start something. Other boys' questions were posed and answered in a genuine, man-to-man fashion.  Lunch ended, hands were shaken, and we drifted off toward the lake to let our lunch settle. It was not until later that night, when we had fallen exhausted into our bunks, that I began musing on the great man's words to me.  At the time, I was devouring my way through one of Robert E. Howard's Conan the Barbarian novels. Conan swung a huge sword and, like my old friend Tarzan, was a man's man! The two also shared an almost naive trust in their friends and deep respect for women. Here again was that nugget Rev. Graham offered me during lunch. From that day on, I tried to follow his example.

    Then, years later, came an event that made Graham's advice resonate like the clear sound of a distant bell. It was during the Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky incident, and Rev. Graham was on Larry King. . .

     "I train my staff to avoid potential situations like this," said Graham. "When any of our male ministers are meeting with a female parishioner, the office door stays fully open. If this is not possible, one of our female confidential assistants will be inside the office also. If we are meeting outside the office, the same rules apply."
     Liberal Larry huffed a little and replied, "I think most people would call that draconian, Reverend."
     "Old-fashioned perhaps," replied Graham. "But effective and proper. Not only do you protect yourself, but you also show respect for the girl or woman you are meeting with."
     I realize that this idea is narrowly focused on the male of the species, as it should be.  As men, God gave us the responsibility for the spiritual health of our immediate family. In modern society, this responsibility naturally extends to the workplace. But take caution, young men, some women do not wish to be treated differently from men, and when it suits their agenda, will say anything. Well, "if wishes were fishes, would we not all cast nets?"

Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place, I am, Col. Jim

Who Owns the Earth?

Up here at the Old Place, we take great pains to keep the area around the lake and the creek that passes through it as pristine as when it was first discovered. The trees and undergrowth around the lake flourish, and the animals go about their lives as if people were not even here. A few descendants of the original Native American, "Dinea," still live nearby as well. Legally, the parcel is in Catahoula Parish but who owns this tiny piece of land is a carefully guarded secret.

So, old, tired planet Earth, have you ever thought about who it belongs to? Humans, of course. Oh, I do not know, does ownership of a celestial ecosystem even require what we so arrogantly call “sentience?” Maybe the animals own the earth, or the plants and the rocks? Nah, it's people. Religious people, like the Jews or the Buddhists, perhaps the Islams? It could be Hindus or even Zarathustras that own the earth. The atheists live on the earth, but they don't want it, and it certainly does not belong to us Christians. I look at it this way, depending on who you ask, the earth is either millions or billions of years old, "so arguing over who owns it is kind of like two fleas arguing over the dog they live on."1.  This quote from Australian actor/producer Paul Hogan started me thinking. Australia's "aborigines" see the earth as their mother, so maybe they own it. When the Europeans arrived, they were astounded to learn that, without ever having met a Judeo-Christian before, the aboriginal people instinctively knew that humans were stewards of the land, not its owners. Whoa now, all you socialists just settle down for a second. Another word for Stewardship is Responsibility. . . uh oh. So, Col. Jim, what's it got to do with Safety?

History will likely chronicle the 20th Century as the age where humans once and for all legally accepted that ownership of their planet was divided among many countries, but gave up their responsibility for the planet as a whole. Oh sure, there have been areas of the planet that peoples of the world referred to as "their" countries, but until the formation of the League of Nations in 1919, no one had been willing to, apparently, bind themselves to legal boundaries. The interesting part, however, will be seeing which chronicle will be believed?

People have been successful at rewriting history for millennia, mainly to make "their side" look better. Sadly, despite herculean efforts taken to keep an accurate record, that part of the earth's history, not lost to the sands of time, has been perverted beyond recognition. It is, to say the least, fantasy; it is to say the most, perjury!

For the last 2,000 years, the only unbiased factual accounting of world history has been maintained by the faithful. That is to say, the world's religions, those with a belief in an afterlife, anyway. These religions, technically, have no ax to grind. However, if the behavior of religions in modern times has taught us anything, it is that every one of them is grinding away anyhow.  Sadly, this "grinding" has resulted in a desire, almost an obsession, really, to use violence and coercion to force people to join their religion or to be executed.

In conclusion, the only religion, wishing no one harm and having no designs on the planet, is, of course Christianity. Please note: I did not leave the Jews out by chance but by design. The Jews are the only humans indigenous to Earth who are born with a religion. The rest of us are born pagan and must choose from the plethora of religions available. According to God's law, as set down in the Tora and the Talmud, Jews must have designs on the planet or at least that part of the planet that was given to them by God Himself, the Holy Land, Israel.

So, back to our topic question, Who Owns the Earth?  According to the laws of men, many people own bits and pieces of the Earth. If we follow Judeo-Christian law, a strong case can be made that the Jewish People own the Earth.  Remember that word, "Stewardship?" When the king is away, his Steward is responsible for the kingdom. The Steward holds the scepter but sits not on the throne. Rather, he sits on a plain hard chair set a few steps below the empty throne.  Hard so that he does not become overly comfortable. When the king returns, the Steward is Responsible for giving the king an accounting of the events, judgments, profits, and losses that occurred in the king's absence. If the king is satisfied, the Steward will be rewarded. . . If not, well, he is the king with the power of life and death over all his subjects.  Who Owns the Earth?  I believe we have settled that question.

Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place, I am, Col. Jim.


1. Paul Hogan, Crocodile Dundee

The Final Storm

Up here at the Old Place, we have finished all of our hurricane preparations. Anything that could be picked up or blown away has been brought inside or tied down. The shutters are closed and their covers are in place. The generator has been tested at full load, the tank is full and there is plenty of extra fuel. There is a small tintype of Our Lady of Prompt Succor, the patron saint of Louisiana, hanging over the front door. The miracles surrounding her veneration are manifest during times of greatest threat: the sparing of the Ursuline convent during the great New Orleans fire of 1812, the sparing of the city during the Battle of New Orleans three years later and (Katrina notwithstanding) the sparing of New Orleans from hurricanes for over 200 years. So, Col. Jim, what's it got to do with Safety?

A storm is upon us, my family, and friends. It is, to paraphrase H.G. Wells, a storm that is vast, cold, and unsympathetic. It is a storm of devastation, wrought of greed, lust, and a thirst for power over anyone who even wishes in his heart to stop it. This is not a storm of wind or rain, hail or flood. This is a storm perpetrated by domestic terrorists with propaganda, subterfuge, and prevarication on a scale never before seen in the history of the world and it is here, now in our own country.

Who are these terrorists? In his book, The Art of War, the author, Sun Tzu extols us to, “know your enemy," and we do. Their names, faces, even their locations are well known to us all. Many of them we see every day in our very homes. 'This simplifies matters' you say; 'we know the face of our enemy!' The face. . .  Sun Tzu outlined 17 signs to help us to know our enemy. These included: Signs of Exhaustion, Thirst, or Hunger; Fear; Eminent Retreat; Poor Leadership; Manipulation; and Advantage. These are all good things for the warrior to know before the battle is joined.

What of those of us who do not see ourselves as warriors? Note, I do not mean those who are afraid or even those who may run away. No, fear and retreat are both things for which the prudent warrior plans. I speak rather of the Spiritual Warrior, whose sword is the word of God; whose shield is the Holy Spirit, whose battle cry is a prayer, and whose commander is Jesus Christ. 

An army must be able to communicate effectively and it is here that the intercession of Our Lady of Prompt Succor comes to bear. This is a storm as sure as any that has come ashore from the gulf and the prayers of Our Lady of Prompt Succor on our behalf are proven. Inspired by this confidence we fly to our patron and implore her assistance as we pray:

Oh Dear Lord and merciful Father, through the intercession of Our Lady of Prompt Succor, extend Your salvation so generously lavished on the citizens of Louisiana to the entire peoples of the United States of America. We who are even now under threat of a storm with intent so terrible that it could devastate this great nation so long ago consecrated to Thee. We beseech Thee to bring comfort for the living, rescue for the lost, and peaceful rest for those whom you have called home. Amen.

Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place I am, Col. Jim.

Another Green Initiative

Up here at the Old Place, most of the children are grandchildren, not all but most. When summer rolls around, the bangs and hisses of bottle rocket wars and young 'uns playing army resound through the woods around the lake. (No cell phones here.) So when an article popped up about a six-year-old Arkansas girl with an idea to honor our military, we noticed. The youngster's name is Vivian, and Miss Viv is being praised for her initiative in requesting that toymakers add Green Army Women to their packages of little toy soldiers. Vivian sent a letter to several toymakers explaining why this was important to her. You see, Vivian's close friend has a mother who is in the Army.  When Vivian realized that all of the green toy soldiers in the packs were men, she realized that her friend's mom and all the other women soldiers needed to be represented as well.

  

I showed the article to Ruth, our retired Marine who runs the general store. She dashed off a letter to Vivian herself and learned that, apparently, young Vivian is one heck of a recruiter. From now on, female soldiers will be included in at least some little green armies. Well done, Miss Vivian!

  

So Col. Jim, what's it got to do with safety? It is about preserving life. While I like the idea of adding little green plastic women to bags of toy soldiers, out there in the real world, women in the line of fire have been a reality for some time. I personally know women in three branches of our armed forces. Geri was trained to teach instrument flying to Navy nuggets during Vietnam. Rose Ann, a now-retired US Army ground pounder, did two tours in Afghanistan and two in Iraq; Liz, a Naval Aviator, flew F-14s in the first Gulf War; our own Ruth taught combat arms in the Marines, "Step" flies rescue choppers for the Coast Guard. Now, make no mistake, I am proud to be beholding to our military personnel and am grateful for the peace and freedoms their service affords me and my family. Thank you, ladies, thank you for your service!

Safety, just this. The fact that there are Ladies out there on that wall in the freezing snow, the scalding sun, or on a pitching deck ready to die, for me, frankly, makes the ole Colonel feel as though he has failed at something. Maybe it is the dad in me, or maybe it is just the natural male compulsion to want to shelter and protect our girls. I don't know. I do know that the call to serve comes from deep inside, "down where you keep your guts, boy!" 1. I imagine it is similar to the call one receives to the religious life. Man or woman, that call is extremely personal and cannot be denied.

  

In trying to resolve this in my heart, it has always puzzled me that God chose to create Adam first. So what difference did that make? Only this, for the first and only time, in the history of creation, God caused another person, Eve, to be brought forth (Born?) of a male! From that point forward, women have been God's vessel with whom He shared His power to create another human being. The man was created to defend the family from predators, to slay the deer, and to carve out the cave. The woman was created to make that cave a home, a haven from the outside world, a place to rest, to bear and raise children in safety. The female was then given life in order to create life, not destroy it. Her safety must be paramount.

  

Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place, I am, Col. Jim.

1. The movie, Iron Eagle

Walls: God's, Nature's and Ours

Up here at the Old Place, we believe in walls. There are fences to keep livestock from wandering.  Our houses and businesses have walls, but that is mainly to keep out the varmits! We do not lock doors cuz we are too well-mannered to just walk in without an invite. Of course, there was that one time when young Timmy McCardle was riding his bike when he heard a commotion up in Ruth's house. Concerned, Tim went in to see, "if I could help," and walked in on Ruth and her gentleman friend. According to Tim, "they was wrasslin' on the kitchen counter, and Ms. Ruth was a holdin' her own.". . . Oookay!

Walls are a hot topic these days, and safety, of course, plays a big part. If we think about walls rationally rather than emotionally, they are easy things to understand. A wall is a place, thing, or action that provides a separation between two or more things. Walls can provide seclusion, security, or safety. They can delineate locations, be part of a memorial, or merely be an architectural statement. In fact, other than the former Berlin Wall and the old Soviet Gulag, a researcher would be hard-pressed to find any walls with a nefarious purpose.  As the saying goes, "Strong fences make for good neighbors," and a fence is just a wall you can see through, or "A locked door keeps an honest man honest." No one will argue with either of these statements, even a thief locks his door. 

Now, Nature abhors walls but tolerates them. Why is that, do you suppose? Walls require a great deal of energy and materials to build and maintain, or they will fail. At the simplest level, some plants create walls. They grow in circles or even produce secretions that are toxic to other plants. Some animals stand in circles facing outward with their young in the middle for protection. Other animals dig holes, build nests, or live in caves. Think of the constructions of dirt daubers or honey bees. Two or more species only coexist without walls when the benefits of their association outweigh the liabilities. Walls, then, are a normal and natural part of life.

With all this evidence, a wall on our southern border should be an easy sell. The error occurs when we contrast the security of a country with the security of private property. The Socialist sees nothing wrong with allowing everyone into their country without permission, while the Communist will let you in, but once you are in, they will not let you leave!  Oddly enough, neither would allow strangers into their home without permission. This well illustrates how both concepts are contrary to nature.

From a Catholic perspective, our Church leaders say that with southern border walls, we abrogate our responsibility to aid our fellow man. Jesus said, "For as much as you do to the least of my people, that you do unto me." Jesus went on to say, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." We have changed that to "What goes around, comes around." There is little doubt that many of the people congregating on our southern border are in need.  A need of their own making?  Perhaps, but does that even matter? . . . Hmm.  In fact, the Vicar of Christ on Earth (the Pope) himself lives in a walled city, but with seven narrow, ungated portals that allow free but manageable access 24/7.  (The media ignores this fact.)

So, Col. Jim, what's it got to do with safety? In the safety business, we say, "Plan Your Work and Work Your Plan."  What the media calls "Hispanic Exodus" seems to have no plan...or does it? From day one of THIS exodus, Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs took over.  Along the way, the people foraged for food, medical attention, shelter, transportation, clothing, and, selectively, other people's possessions to sell or barter. There is no reason to expect this to change if the USA throws open its borders. The Israelites wandered the desert for 40 years, with nothing but faith in God. He gave them manna and Moses, and lest we forget, saved the Israelites using...that's right, a WALL of water.

Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place, I am, Col. Jim

The Safety Certification Boondoggle

Up here at the Old Place, we value a person's experience and abilities. We never ask for certifications and only occasionally a license or badge. Perhaps we are too trusting, but since we all open carry, there is little incentive for rascalry.  Today, the ole colonel has a question: how many of you folks have a license or a certification? We pretty much all have a driver's license and some of us, myself included, are certainly certifiable. Okay, okay. No, what I am asking about are professional licenses and certifications. With the exception of medical and legal personnel, as well as engineers and architects most so-called "certifications" are based on achieving a certain score on a test given by the certifying company. Some certifications do require the candidate to have completed certain prerequisites before they are allowed to take the test: a certain level of education (GPA usually does not matter nor does the major), number of years experience (again, it usually does not matter in which profession that experience was gained) and in some cases an additional certification. Take safety for example. There are no fewer than a dozen "certifications" from an equal number of companies. Some of these companies are themselves, "certified" to provide these certifications, by some other company. Many however are mere "certification mills." Keep in mind, the only oversight is provided by the certifying certifier. Okay, Col. Jim, so What's It Got to do with Safety?

Back around the turn of the century, I taught the Basic Orientation Plus (BOP) over at the Safety Council.  BOP is a six-hour safety course required for everyone who wants to work in our local chemical and refining industries. One day a genuine, no-foolin' Certified Safety Professional (CSP) showed up. He was not happy and had complained to several plant managers and our own CEO. He demanded that he be allowed to just take the test. After being told no, he grudgingly paid up and sat down. He so disrupted the class with his questions and opinions, that I pulled him aside during the first break. Rather than berate him for his rudeness and insensitivity to his fellow students, I offered him a suggestion. Stay for the class, take the test, I could not change that, then write a critique, including all the incorrect information he noticed and send it to me in an email. Guess what?  He shut up, copiously took notes, passed the test with an 80% and yep; he emailed me his notes.  He found 39 errors in the BOP presentation. 

So, what does all this say about Mr. CSP?  Is he a rude jerk. . . pretty much. Could he run a safety program? Maybe. Does being able to pass the toughest safety certification test there is mean you will make a great safetyman? Well, it means nothing, except that he could pass a test.  Oh, are you wondering how many of the 39 errors he was right about, not even one . . . not even one.

Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place I am, Col. Jim

White After Labor Day is Good for You, In Moderation

Up here at the Old Place most folks keep a seasonal schedule.  The new year starts on Labor Day and ends on August 31st.  We hold autumn to be the start of the new year because of college football. Sure, the "Boys of Summer," still have two months to go, but even they would not start the new year in March. The start of college football season is a confirmation of expectations. The months of recruiting and the promises implied at the spring game are brought to a conclusion, for good or ill. So why do we leave a couple of days at the start of September? I suppose it is just to finish up summer. The Old Colonel uses those days to change his clothes: pastel shirts, white linen and seersucker suits join white buck shoes Monet' and sailboat ties in retirement until spring. The reds, oranges, browns (And purples) are starched and wait patiently to be ironed. So, what's it got to do with safety?

The annual ritual of change comforts and reassures. It invests us with a feeling of solidarity and gives us something to look forward to, even when there is little else. Autumn paints our homes and ourselves with the colors of changing leaves and of course, in purple and gold. Straw, Indian corn and pumpkins find their way into our preparation rooms while an ambush of anything striped turns the den into a Bengal tiger's hunting ground. The tailgating gear is pulled out, the giant "Gumbo" pot is wire brushed and the butane tank refilled. Almost any excuse will do to buy that three foot spoon with "LSU" molded into its handle.

October settles in, and the prep room is emptied of its autumnal fruits and veggies. The works join pale skeletons, and freckle-faced, gingham-clad scarecrows on the mist-covered veranda. Dark trappings of the "Wizarding World" take on a second life as witches, ghosts, and giant spiders inculcate their blacks and greens into the mix!

Before you know it, pumpkins magically transform themselves into Thanksgiving pies, and earthy colors steal away with the ghosts and mist. Red poinsettias and green garlands herald the start of Advent, soon to spread joy-filled wings across the lake. Children rake up piles of dry leaves only to leap laughing and scattering into their midst. Tired witches and wizards, now in Muggle clothing, ply their brooms against multicolored detritus covering the sidewalks. 

Sure, white is okay if you are trying to stay cool, but does not the tie-dye change the white shirt for the better?  Do not purple and gold stripes make a plain white shirt into an LSU jersey?  Does not a fat man in a red velvet suit, trimmed in white, make us all feel like children again?  A little bit of white does go a long way, or would you rather shovel sneaux?

Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place, I am, Col. Jim

Spiritual PPE

The denizens are aging up here at the Old Place.  Some like a fine whiskey slowly mellowing to perfection, others like a favorite pair of shoes becoming softer and more comfortable. Our values were forged in the old days, by the old ways.  All perfect, proper ladies and gentlemen. . . oh, not hardly. We have someone who drinks too much. We have someone who went to prison, oh, all right, he was the assistant warden. We even have one Weather Underground radical who is hiding out. Look, I make "magic" wands.  We are eclectic.

How is it then that all these so-called "pedophile priests" are Catholic?  The obvious answer is that priests are, after all, pretty much exclusively a Catholic thing. However, if you change the moniker from Catholic priest to Christian minister, well, gee whiz, there just do not seem to be any pedophiles among any other Christian leaders, at least no reports of any by ABC, CBS, NBC, CNN, BBC, or PMS-NBC. (Local news? There are plenty, but none on big media.) Here is the telling part: there has not been one report of any Islamic imam, Sikh, Shinto, or Buddhist pedophile on any of the Big Cs, only Catholic priests, hmm.  Are Catholic priests really the only ones?  Now, why do you think that is?  If you wanted to ruin someone's reputation, undermine their character, bring down their business, and destroy their lives, what would you do? Easy, get some dissatisfied group or person, real or imagined (Islam, Radicalized women, LGBTQ, etc.) to make an accusation, then get the help of the wealthiest, most powerful people on earth, the Big Cs TV news media.

Think about it, how do you beat the biggest gang on the block?  You subvert their leaders. Start rumors, tell stories, and get their followers to become suspicious and doubt their ability to lead. Then you get one to turn on them, and before you know it, the leaders and the gang are down. Where is the best place to punch? The head, of course.  A sniper shoots the head, not the body.

History tells us that every other Christian "church" (45,000 by last count) was formed by someone who became dissatisfied with the church of which they were already a member. "I'll teach them a lesson. I've had a revelation from God. I'll start my OWN church." How does Satan tap into this dissatisfaction?  He wants to destroy Christ's Church on earth and send everyone to hell, so what does he do? He whispers in the ears of priests and bishops. "God understands confession, but you must first protect the church." Satan subverts some of Christ's Catholic priesthood, undermines their character, destroys the flock's trust, and thereby their faith in the shepherds. Satan wants everyone to abandon Christ's Church in favor of any of the scattered, weaker ones. Satan is not going to waste time with the weaker flocks. He is going to bring down the Royal Priesthood of Catholic shepherds that have protected the flock from the wolves for 2,000 years! So, what's it got to do with safety? 

If we abandon the bride and her shepherds (Our Personal Safety) to Satan, then damnation (Injury and Death) becomes "quicker, easier, and more seductive." The Catholic Church is our Spiritual PPE. Right now, it is Christ's yoke (Safety Plan) that is easy, His burden (Safety Compliance) that is light.

Now Woa-Up, Wait a minute!  Before you burn up your keyboard, this is not a defense of the disgusting and criminal actions of pedophiles and their protectors. This is not a Catholic problem, it is not a Liberal problem or an LGBTQ problem, it is a problem of people, imperfect, sinful people... all people. Like the Ice Man said, "Maverick, it's not your flying, it's your attitude. You may not like the people you fly with; they may not like you, but whose side are you on?"

Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place, I am Col. Jim

Here’s To The Good Old Ways

It is the start of a new year on the calendar.  I have often felt that time stands still up here at the Old Place.  Pretty much everyone keeps to the old ways, the good old ways.  We have a general store, run by a retired Marine.  It also serves as the post office and first point of contact for strangers to the area, usually lost because their navigation app was inscrutable.  Older, and more able to appreciate the good old ways, we welcome them as long lost friends.  Our police department is a park ranger station whose “Major Crimes Division” handles nothing more exotic than a band of masked marauders cavorting about in someone’s attic.  (Raccoons)  So, it came as a surprise when at 6:00am on December 31^st my short wave radio began to crackle; it was Ruth.

            “Mornin’ Colonel,” she said, “Sorry to bother you, but you have an overseas telephone call.”

“Really, at six in the morning, now that’s strange Gunny,” I replied.

“Oh that’s not the best part,” Ruth chuckled.  “Despite all our travels, this call is from the one place neither you nor I have never been to before.”

“I’m listening,” said I.

There was a brief pause from Ruth, then, “Come on over.”

This was intriguing.  I went out, hopped in the old Tornio and drove to the store.  As I walked in, I could smell the coffee.  Ruth put a big mug, laced with real cream and sugar, in front of me, and went off to unlock the front door.

            “Hello?”

The heavily accented Micronesian voice on the other end replied, “Kukuri Menaái Ririki maiia Kiribati*, Colonel Jim!”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” I replied, “but it’s not New Years day yet,” or was it?  I began to think and to muse.  Kiribati was a name I had not heard in a long time.  Long before MaryHannah was born, way before I met Melinda, indeed while I was still in short pants, Sister Claire Germane had taught our 2^nd grade class about time zones.  This phone call was from the future!

It is now, almost 18 hours later, on a chilly New Year’s Eve night.  Folks across the globe are partying their way through the waning hours of 2017.  The Old Colonel is curled up under a Biederlac in front of the fire.  Audrey and Molly are in my lap as usual while the gliders bark and glide around the Old Place and throw bottle caps, a cute but noisy ruckus.  I sat there and contemplated how this day had begun and what I should learn from it.  I had received a call from the future, but if so, then the other person had placed a call to the past!  We all know that it is possible to go back in time Einstein proved it, in theory.  So all I had to do was take a phone call from Kiribati and all of sudden I was much more clever than Einstein.  This was fantastic!  I could go back in time, back to the good old ways. . . .  WOAH hoss, not so fast.  When I received that call at 6:00am on December 31, 2017, from the tiny island of Kiribati in the Pacific Ocean, there it was already January 1, 2018.  How?  Kiribati rests astride the International Date Line on the opposite side of the world.  On one side today, on the other side, tomorrow!  Disappointed?  Don’t be.  We have an entirely new year full of new days and new months, to live, to learn, to share, to love.   

Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place I am, Col. Jim.

* Happy New Year from Kiribati.

Farewell to Mr. Rog

Good Saturday morning my friends.  My name is Col. Jim and this is my Old Place.  This time of year, there is plenty of time for reflection up here at the Old Place.  The days are cool and cloudy and the woods are somehow quieter. Today, I am reading from a thin, blue binder and remembering an old friend.  The author paints a vision of a young sailor standing on the smoking, listing deck of a US destroyer.  A Japanese torpedo has just blown off their stern leaving the ship, dead in the water in the middle of a major sea battle and taking 19 of his shipmates to their deaths.  I could almost smell the cordite and hear the explosions.  As I close the binder, I see a patch glued to the front of it depicting a leaping Wild Indian shooting a bow and arrow.  The arrow is pointed down.  I like to believe that is because he is shooting at that Japanese submarine, the preferred prey of our WWII destroyers. That patch is the unit insignia of Destroyer Squadron 23, “The Little Beavers” activated on May 11, 1943.  Under the command of Commodore Arleigh “31 Knot” Burke, DESRON 23 earned a Presidential Unit Citation fighting 22 engagements while destroying a Japanese cruiser, nine destroyers, one submarine, several smaller ships, and approximately 30 aircraft.  That young sailor was a small, “Foote Note,” if you will,  among the many young men who served.  Wilbur V. Rogers was not even old enough to drink when with seabag hoisted over his shoulder he gazed up the gang way toward the USS Foote, the ship that would be his home for the next two years.  Rog served in the Main Battery Director targeting enemy aircraft with the deadly twin 44 mm cannons.  As Rog shared, his sea stories his shipmates and their lives and battles came alive!  “James, you could get those guns to fire together or to alternate.  I never liked it when they fired together.  If I could get them firing alternately that meant there was always lead in the air!”  As Rog told me about what history calls, the Battle of Empress of Augusta Bay, I felt like I was there. “It was 3 O’Clock in the morning and we had just executed a hard left turn to come up on the starboard quarter of the USS Converse. A minute later a Japanese torpedo struck us at an angle behind the aft 5 inch gun mount.  We were making 31-knots and immediately went dead in the water.  All we could do was watch as our stern section drifted away, turned slowly and began to sink.”  Ultimately, the USS Foote was repaired and returned to the war taking Rog and his crew mates to the siege called, “Okinawa’s Ring of Tin.”  So, you ask, what’s it got to do with safety?  When one thinks of the sacrifices made by our military and their families, the answer to that question becomes clear.  

34 years ago, my father-in-law, Charlie Munley, introduced me to his best friend, yep, it was Rog.  At the time  Rog was working for Marathon Oil, a company known for it’s safety program.  As we got to know each other Mr. Rog gradually became the grandfather I never had.  Rog took me on personal guided tours of our USS Kidd, also a Fletcher class destroyer and of course took the time to point out all of the “safety” features.  This story is over long and a very difficult one for me to end.  “We all get old if we live long enough,” Rog once said.  Well I guess that’s true.  Rog was the last surviving crewman of the USS Foote and as such, according to US Navy tradition, has the right to be called, “USS Foote.”  Today I learned that at 92 years, USS Foote had passed away.  He is now reunited with our mighty God and with his sweet Ona Vee. To say that I will miss him is not enough.  Rog’s life, his character and his patriotism are a testament to what is good about our country and why we should fight to keep it that way.  So rather than mourn, let this be my prayer, for all of us who remain, “Fair winds and following seas” shipmate!  Until we meet again.  Sitting in a rocker at the Old Place, I am Col. Jim.

Social Media: Love It, Leave It or Use It.

Up here at the Old Place we know how to use things. When you have to hit something, you use a hammer, not a wrench. When you want to go fishing, you do not drive ole Fezzie (tractor) into the lake, you hop in the boat and if someone needs a hand, we usually give them two!  The other day, Hannah said that she was thinking of quitting FB and going back to, "the lost art of letter writing." I know how she is feeling. The same thing used to gnaw at me sometimes. Hannah even gave up social media completely for lent this year.  What a gal!  A break from anything can be a good idea. It allows you to step back and reassess.  Social media. . . well, I believe that requires a different approach.

First, ask yourself, 'Why do I use social media?'  There are lots of reasons:

1. Personal: Keeping up with old friends and making new ones, in other words, being sociable.

2. Special Interests for Fun: Cars (You knew that would be first.), Sugar Gliders, Dogs, Food, Sports, Travel, Hobbies, Home repair.

3. Special Interest Practical: Professional networking, Promoting your business, Buying and Selling.

4. BATTLE!:  If you have seen the movie, Michael, you will understand the reference. This is for your politics and causes.

1 and 2 can mix, 1, 2 and 3 could mix but should not, and 4 should never mix with anything.  

I believe the thing to do with social media is to use IT, instead of letting IT use us. Take FB for example, if I see something I want to comment on, I start my own thread and see where it goes. I also look at a responder's profile and personal FB page before replying to them. If I find things that make me realize there is no point in including them, I delete them from the thread and block them. Of the ones you leave on the thread, if they go Kujo on you STOP and dump them, fast!  Do not let them pollute the waters with their poisons. The cool part is, YOU can still comment on their stuff if YOU want to, otherwise, put 'um in File 13.  (TIP:  If you do not respond directly, they will not be able to defeat your Block.)

Finally, remember, the church wants us to be an evangelist for the faith. Pappa Frances is Tweeting all the time for us to do this with love.  Here then is simple a process to follow when using social media:

1. Pray for God's grace to guide you. 

2. Read and reread your post for content. 

3. Read and reread your post for grammar and spelling. 

4. Post ONLY if you want to entertain or to make a positive difference in the lives of your readers. 

5. Never post to get "it" off your chest. You may feel better at first but not for the long haul.

So, What's It Got to Do With Safety?  

Keeping your business and personal life as separate as possible will keep the two from interfering with each other to your grief. You can apologize for a gaff made face to face, but a gaff on social media can explode, hurt or anger hundreds, cost you friendships, your job, even your professional standing.  Then, there goes your blood pressure!  Or you could slide on up to the Old Place, grab a cold drink, pour yourself into rocker (they are available) and work the crossword in the paper.  That's what I'm doing, sitting in a rocker at the Old Place, I am, Col. Jim.