Two Questions for Governor Abbott--and a bit of history

This is not a political post. I’m not attacking Governor Abbott or anyone else, but I am sincerely puzzled by two things I’ve been seeing on Facebook a lot.

The first is the new law limiting suits by communities and dollar amount against big corporations for pollution. With climate change and the environment one of the major concerns in this country and the world, I cannot see any advantage to this except protection of big corporations—and endangerment to the everyday Texans our state government is supposed to protect. I wish Governor Abbott would tell us his thinking when he signed this law—you know, transparency in government and all that.  I genuinely want to know, because it sounds like a disaster in the making to me. Once again, I am disturbed by what we do to Mother Earth in the name of greed.

The second questions has to do with all this gold bullion being stashed away to back Texas currency. What Texas currency? As far as I know we don’t have our own money. Does this hark back to Reconstruction when some Texans wanted to secede? I’ve heard that it’s a first step toward secession. Then I’ve also heard that the gold is safely stored in a New York bank, Why New York? If we’re stashing it, why not in Texas? If it’s an asset, why don’t we use it to help the poor with housing, medical costs, food, etc. Or schools?

The whole idea of secession has been around since we first became a state back in 1845, but today it make me shudder. Does anyone know the story of Van Zandt County’s secession? After the Civil War, that county decided to withdraw from the Union and from Texas. General Phil Sheridan was in charge of Texas during Reconstruction, and he stormed troops north to Van Zandt County to tell those misled farmers they couldn’t do that. But the farmers used a Revolutionary War tactic—they hid in trees and took potshots at the troops in formation as they marched up the road—and then turned around and retreated.

The citizens of Van Zandt County retired to Canton where they built a big bonfire and got out the little brown jug. Late that night, Sheridan’s troops surrounded the town, put all the men in a stockade where they kept them one long cold, wet winter. When spring came and the ground was muddy, the prisoners could push the poles of the stockade apart. One by one they disappeared into the night. Some never returned to Van Zandt County. I think it’s a cautionary tale.

Can’t resists getting in a plug: you can read all about it in Luke and the Van Zandt County War, winner of the best juvenile award for the year from the Texas Institute of Letters. Available from TCU Press, Texas A&M Press, or Amazon. Yeah, I wrote it. Maybe I should send the governor a copy—ya’ think?

If the guv answers my questions, I’ll be sure to let you know.

A quiet, empty house

I'm feeling a little pensive tonight. My house is quiet and empty after having Jacob here for three days. Even Sophie has chosen to be outside instead of in with me. Jacob's gone to visit his grandparents in Coppell--they are so much better than I am about taking him to football practice and the like. He'll have a good time, and it's good that he's there, but I miss him. He was all dressed up this morning because his class was going to Bass Hall to see a performance of the Nutcracker. At the last moment, he decided against his tie (it was a different shade of red, and I thought the decision wise). I did not make him tuck his shirt in, as his parents would have--I think it looks dorky. The hardest part of having him was making sure he was fed, dressed, teeth brushed, (who cares about that curly mop?) and out the door on time--the school is across the street and I watch until he gets to the crossing guard.
We had good moments in our three days--I realized he's spoiled and wants to eat out every night. We went to the Grill one night and to Lucile's another. Last night he was distinctly disappointed when I said we were staying home--but he settled for scrambled eggs (I almost made an omelet because I turned away for a moment too long). At Lucile's he wanted to taste lobster, so I gave him one tiny bite from my pot pie. He tasted it and announced next time he would order lobster (this child has a supreme disregard for cost). When I asked if he wanted another tiny bite, he said no thank you. Doesn't bode well for a future order of lobster.
Tonight for my solitary dinner I made salmon cakes (a favorite of mine--eating them is enhanced by anticipation of a sandwich with mayo and lemon tomorrow) and zucchini vegetti. A friend gave me a spiral thing that turns vegetables into spaghetti--I sauté the zucchini with a bit of butter-flavored olive oil, salt and pepper. A good dinner--and I could read while I ate.
Tonight I read a seasonal letter from a fellow Guppy that really resonated with me. She quoted Ursula Le Guin who predicted hard times are coming, times in which we will need artists and writers while we live in the grip of capitalism. But she reminded human resistance can change things, and change often begins in art. "The name of our beautiful reward is not profit. It is freedom."
The writer of the message went on to say the two things she thought most important are to take care of our planet and not pollute it--sometimes I think we're already too late in coming to that conclusion, but it is so vital. And we need to see all people on our planet as equally human. I wanted to rise up and cheer, though these are two cardinal principles that are being trodden into the dirt right now. It all reminded me of William Faulkner's speech (when we all thought that atomic bombs would wipe life from the planet). Faulkner believed that man would not only survive but will prevail. I have to believe that too, just as I have to believe that Le Guin is right--we need artists and writers in our lives now.
It makes me wonder if what I write is frivolous--and there's a bit of me that vows to change that.
Okay, pensive mood over.

What's wrong with the world--well, one thing

A friend called today and during the conversation mentioned that he'd had a bite from a gas company about a lease on his acreage southwest of Fort Worth. It was, he said, sweet money. The problem was where to put pads so they and the trucks didn't disturb his road and his house. Then he said, without hearing his own irony, that if you drive through Johnson County it's a wasteland because of all the pads.
I said fracking would pollute his land and deplete our already compromised water supply--this is a rancher who frequently bemoans the lack of rain. Somehow I forgot to mention earthquakes, but I finished with a pronouncement: fracking, already banned in some places, should be universally banned.
"Yeah, well it ain't gonna happen. There's too much money in it."
"And that," I pronounced grandly, "is what's wrong with the world."
From the other end I heard, "Maybeso. Bye."
I was reminded of the late great author Elmer Kelton who, talking of the drought of the 1930s, said our grandfathers didn't know what forces they were unleashing when they plowed up the thick sod of the prairie to build huts and plant crops. The trouble today is we know. Scientists have warned about pollution from fracking, the use of endangered water supply, and I believe studies are still out about earthquakes but some are convinced it's no coincidence that we have them so often in areas where drilling is common to excessive.
I truly believe that the earth is a gift to us, and these days we abuse that gift terribly by fracking, by pouring endless miles of cement on its surface so that it can't breathe, by clear-cutting forests. All in our quenchless thirst for money. And I think it will all come home to haunt us.
We have people around the world who are working tirelessly to be "green," to cultivate nature, and respect the earth. And we have people who are just as busily working to destroy it for their own profit.
Not sure what my next rant will be but that's the one for today.

Our artifical world

Maybe it's because I'm getting old and I remember the "good old days," but lately I've really been worried about the artificial world we live in. Not much is left to nature these days, and yet I firmly believe that grand old lady knows what she's doing. This isn't a new thought for me, but it hit home when I saw where someone--probably a nutrition authority--said we do not eat food any more. We eat "food-like products." I am truly alarmed by GMOs but even more so by pre-packed, pre-prepared foods which must have a jillion preservatives in them. "Just add water, heat and serve." No thank you. Most of it tastes like cardboard. But there are some foolers. I love ranch dressing, especially the powdered kind you mix with buttermilk and mayonnaise for salad dressing or mayonnaise and sour cream for a dip. These days I make my own ranch flavoring out of fresh herbs or relatively fresh dry ones. I also make my own taco seasoning. I don't buy chicken nuggets for my grandson any more--they aren't chicken but "by-products" and when I buy him hot dogs (which he loves) I get Oscar Meyer Select which the label says is pure chicken or turkey or beef. Hope I'm not being gullible on that one. Sometimes I can't escape using Velveeta because of its melting qualities, but it's a rare day. I'm thinking of making my own mayonnaise though right now I'm using Duke's, which my gluten- and dairy-free friend recommended. I don't buy margarine but stick with real butter and try to be cautious about the amount (though I do love it). I don't buy low-fat dairy products since someone pointed out to me if they take the fat out they have to put something else in to compensate. And I wish I could afford all organic vegetables and fruit--but I try for locally grown, and I think there are some products that you really should buy organic--berries, for instance. And apples.
Cleaning products pollute our world terribly, and some include ingredients that can do all kinds of damage--bug sprays for instance. I have an infestation of moths right now, which really upsets Jacob. He wants me to hire an exterminator, and I explained that I wasn't going to spray my house with poison for a few moths. When I do need an exterminator, I call a company that uses only organic products. Except with rats--I had a rat problem last summer, and when I asked how they get rid of rats organically, the representative said flatly, "We don't. There's no way." The internet though has tons of recipes for home-made, effective, organic cleaning products--many with good old white vinegar.
I have long had my own superstition about all the concrete with which we are covering Mother Earth. I think the earth needs room to breathe, and yet we building multi-story structures and parking lots and slowly but surely getting rid of all open space--and all the plants and trees that destroy carbon dioxide and help create fresh oxygen for us to breathe. Whenever I fly over the American West and see the vast open land, I'm a bit reassured. But I think sometime we will be called to account for what we do to the land and the environment. And don't ask me about strip mining in the Alaskan wilderness or the Keystone Pipeline.
Finally, in my litany of worries, I think so many of us are overmedicated. My doctor found a certain medication threw off my electrolytes, so when I took another medicine to correct that, I developed digestive problems. I really like my doctor, but I want to say to him, "Don't you think my body is trying to tell us something." Don't get me wrong--I appreciate modern medicine for the most part--if I didn't take the hypertensive, anti-cholesterol pills and others, I would not be as healthy as I am for my age. But yoga also contributes a great deal--and is a natural remedy..
The whole point of all this rambling is "Quit messing with Mother Nature." When I hear Senator John Cornyn urge Texans to keep the EPA out of Texas I see red. I hope next fall we can get a Congress who will pay attention to pollution, climate change, and the damage we are doing to ourselves and our world--and forget kowtowing to coal mining, the gas industry and fracking, the oil industry, and others.