A Tribute to Moo Moo Jackson

September 28, 2009
NOTE; This was written as originally dated but since then Moo Moo's father passed away so I am updating the story.

A good friend of mine died this morning. I was fortunate to have known him for several years. He was a diabetic as well as an idiopathic epileptic, who had to take insulin each morning and each evening. But he didn’t mind. He looked forward to his injections because he knew that was when he would be allowed to eat. We spent hours keeping each other company although our conversations didn’t amount to much. I guess we didn’t have very much in common. He came to me bearing the name “Moo Moo”, and I jokingly added the name Jackson. 

My dad sometimes called me Moo Moo Jackson when I was a child, so I felt obligated to share it with him. Yes, I’m sad today. What else can I say. I don’t even have a picture to remember him by. No doubt, I’ll eventually lose more good friends, I have several that I’ll probably outlive, But death is a part of living, you can’t have one without the other, we all must eventually die. We can only mourn our loss, shed tears of sorrow and go on living as best we can without that particular friend. 

In case you are wondering about Moo Moo, He was my eleven year old pet cat. I still have his fourteen year old father, Smokey, and a female cat who won’t give her age, named Ling Ling. And I have three dogs left. Yes, I’ll no doubt be shedding tears of sorrow again in time. I hope it's not too soon.

Smokey the Cat

It's four years later now and Moo Moo's father and my good friend Smokey passed away from old age. He just began to get weaker and one day he went to that eternal sleep in my arms. It was a sad day for me for he was my constant companion. He slept on my arm every night and never disturbed me until he was sure I was awake.

At my age I have had many pets. My back yard has become a pet cemetery of sorts. I have very little room for many more. My friends Midnight, Abigail, Tammy, Lady, Chip, Moo Moo, Precious, Rambo, Pookie and others whose names escape me right now are all buried there.

In the last 40 years I have owned or been owned by many animal friends and have had a great fondness for all of them. Things I have learned from my pets are that when you own small animals as pets, you become part of their family.

Grandma's Kitchen

The old cook stove.

I was born into a family of farmers way back in 1937. My earliest memories are of farm life and especially grandma’s kitchen. Grandma’s kitchen was the central most part of the house. It was where everyone started their day and came back to at lunchtime and the end of the day. 

Everyone old enough was given farm chores to do and stayed busy tending the crops, milking and feeding the cows. It seems that most of the entire year was spent with some kind of chore that needed doing and everyone knew what their chores were.

Coal fired heater.

Some chores for younger children were to walk through the crops and use a hoe to chop out the weeds and loosen the soil so the roots would be able to get more water and air. Someone had to clean the mule’s Jack's barn and put down fresh hay from the hay loft for him to sleep in. 

Grandpa had a blacksmith shop where he repaired his farming implements and plows and other things that needed mending. He was quite skilled with his hands as far as repairing things.

The Old Outhouse

The old white farmhouse trimmed in green was not insulated back in the thirties and forties so in the winter it was really cold in the wintertime. Grandma’s house had three kinds of heat in the early morning. The fireplace in the sitting room, sometimes referred to as a parlor, a coal fired small stove in one corner of the kitchen and the wood cook stove on the other side. I slept under so many of grandma’s home-made quilts I could not turn over at night. When I woke up those cold winter mornings, I would grab my clothes, run to the kitchen and get behind the big wood cook stove where it was warm to dress.

World War I well pump

On the farm, we had no running water or indoor plumbing. Everyone except grandma was expected to use the outhouse. Toilet paper either was not yet invented or was hard to come by because we used an old Sears’s catalog. Grandma, being the lady of the house had a chamber pot in the bedroom which someone had to take to the outhouse and empty it every morning. That was a chore I was glad I did not have.

I had the pleasant task of feeding the chickens and gathering the eggs. That was a fun job and easy for me. I would take a bag of corn and scatter it on the ground in and the chickens would come running. I would then get a basket and go into the hen house to gather the eggs.
The first order of the day before I woke up, someone would build a fire in the cook stove and the small coal burning stove. While the cook stove was heating up a large kettle of water was placed on the coal burning stove for washing dishes after everyone ate. This particular part of farm life took place every day, summer or winter.

Bread hutch.

One of the young boys would go to the well and pump enough water to last through at least noon. It was someone’s job to keep the house well supplied with water. The water was kept in an oak bucket on the back porch with a dipper hanging from a nail to drink from when you got thirsty. While the stove was getting hot, grandma would go to her bread hutch and make a big batch of biscuits. She would sift flour into her big wooden bowl and ad baking powder and lard, then kneed the dough until it was just right for rolling out on a flat wooden board with her rolling pin.

The old ice box.

The family was fairly large so the table was long and had a bench for the young’uns on the back side. Grandpa sat at the head of the table and grandma sat at the other end. There were chairs on the other side for the older children.

After breakfast everyone would disappear, off to do their morning chores except for the younger daughter whose job it was to help grandma clean up the kitchen and get prepared for the noon meal. The whole process started all over again. 

The wood cook stove was re-stoked for the heat to get back up to cooking temperature and grandma would choose which vegetables from the garden she would cook. Everyone in the field would put their tools down right where they were working so they could remember where to restart their chores and return to the kitchen for the noon meal. After that the process started over for the evening meal. It seemed as if grandma's job was never done.

Grandpa and Jack the mule.

My main job was playing in the corn rows and sometimes I picked pole beans which grew on the corn stalks. I sometimes went into the hayloft and played in the hay. It was great fun being raised on a farm but I now realize how much hard work went into farming. There is so much to learn about what to plant, when to plant, when to harvest and keep something growing nearly year-round.

Grandpa made money selling his crops, milk, butter and eggs to the local market. He and Jack the mule would load up the wagon once a week and head to the nearby market where he would sell his produce. For the 1940’s, he made a pretty good living as well as kept his family well fed.

To My Friends in Connecticut and Maryland

To my friends in Connecticut. I was re-reading my copy of the Constitution and Bill of Rights today and found some interesting facts about rights.

The Second Amendment of The Bill of Rights written in 1764, most everyone already knows pretty well: 

“A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.”

Article 1, Section 9, paragraph 3 of the Bill of Rights has a one sentence clause, which is not superseded by the Constitution, states: 

“No bill of Attainder or ex post facto shall be passed.”

For those without a dictionary, Attainder means: 

“confiscation of rights or property”

Ex post facto means: 

“events that have already occurred as well as to subsequent events that will occur in the future.”

So by that set of laws on the books in our nation’s capital no one can take away your right to bear arms nor your arms which are your property.

Bureau of Land Management -vs-Cliven Bundy

The government continues to overstep its bounds more and more under this administration. We live under Constitutional Law but we have dozens of Bureaus who write hundreds of “Regulations” under which we are to abide. I for one, am fed up with federal “Bureaus” telling us how we can live our lives. 

The fiasco of the Bureau of Land Management started in Nevada against Cliven Bundy may not end well. Even though Newsweek reported that the U.S. had ended its standoff after about a thousand protesters showed up in support of Bundy. 

To quote Newsweek: “Anti-government groups, right-wing politicians and armed gun-rights advocates camped around Bundy’s ranch to support him in a standoff that tapped into long-simmering anger in Nevada and other Western states, where vast tracts of land are owned and governed by federal agencies.” The BLM was sent there to round up 1,000 head of cattle. How many were actually rounded up is unknown. They did give the Bundys back 320 of their cattle after being backed down by a large force of protesters and a television crew which eventually showed up to film the event.

Now I protest the term “right-wing” politicians or anything. The term “right-wing” has a way being translated as Bible thumping, gun toting racists for political reasons. Gun toting, yes, I carry a gun, I carry a Bible and I am not racist. I believe, as Martin Luther King said “a man should be judged by his character, not by the color of his skin. Turning the other cheek is well past in this day and age of government tyranny. Our fastest time for a police to get to me is more than 20 minutes so I am alone with any assailant for at least 20 minutes and by then he has done his harm to me and gone. The police then can only write a report after they ask a dozen questions. I know that because my house what shot twice by some nuts driving through my neighborhood shooting just for the fun of it. The police said that without a license and make of the car they would probably never find them. By the time we got out the front door they were gone and the police couldn’t do anything. 

But I digress. The Washington Free Beacon reported earlier that the BLM “will not say if they have euthanatized any of Bundy’s cows in the roundup” “Amy Lueders, the Nevada state director for the BLM, said in a conference call Thursday evening that the agency does have a ‘protocol’ but would not release any numbers for animals they have found dead or that they have euthhized.” “So, we do have a protocol in terms of when we would euthanize animals,” she said. “But we don’t have ay answers at this time in terms of numbers.” Considering that BLM brought in back hoes, one can only assume they were there to bury dead cows when they killed “euthanatized” them. 

The animals were being herded using helicopters and this is calving season so many mother cows with calves became separated. The calves separated from their mothers, by natural instinct would go into hiding and if their mothers are not free to find them they will die of starvation.

According to BLM, 352 cows were herded into a holding area. Their original plan was to round up 1000 cattle. I have also read unsubstantiated reports that more than 200 cows were put down, euthanatized is the word BLM used, I think the word should be “killed”. I believe the number is probably higher due the lying nature of our political leaders and their appointees. 

In my opinion, I believe the cattle were shot by Rangers who were unfamiliar with the proper way of herding cattle. One report I read said the cattle made threatening moves toward the Rangers trying to herd them into the holding area. Being raised on a farm, I know cattle have to be herded in a friendly, non threatening manner or they will turn on you. Some Rangers supposedly were attacked by the cattle so they euthanatized, “killed” them for their natural instinct to threaten anyone trying to herd them without necessary experience.  Leuders said, “We will euthanize an animal during the impoundment if they exhibit dangerous characteristics, threatening the health and safety of the employees.” 

Darn right, if cattle do not know you and you approach them in an unfamiliar manner they will try to ram you, that’s why they have horns on their head ─ for self-defense. Unless you are a cowboy and can lasso them and take them down to the ground, tie their, then the only way to “euthanize” a cow is to shoot it in the head. I doubt if any of the Rangers were cowboys and knew nothing of how to handle cattle.

Over two hundred armed Rangers, including snipers, along with K-9 units were deployed using brutal force against the protesters who rushed to the Bundy family’s aid. The force, included the use of Tasers on some of the protesters. K9 dogs were allowed to get within inches of protesters but no dog bites were reported. One fifty-seven year old lady with grandchildren was thrown to the ground for trying to video the fracas with her cell phone. But it was only after a television cameraman and reporter showed up did the rangers begin to disperse. Bad publicity would be detrimental to what they were doing.

There is a lot more I could write that was gleaned from reading the various news reports but my main point is that I believe the force behind all this government control is the more likely the “Green” movement. They pretend to be concerned over a Mojave Desert tortoise which they claim is an endangered species. They’re never mentioned in any article but their reputation of having farms and private lands rights infringed on by some federal bureau because of something totally outside of their desire to protect "mother earth and all its inhabitants from mankind". Only recently, a farmer dug a small farm pond on his land and it suddenly was declared a marshland. He was penalized and told his pond (marshland) was now under the government marshland control.

My point: This government is out of control. The Constitution means nothing to them. They rule on a whim, and it seems that their whims change pretty much daily. Reportedly this excursion into Nevada costs taxpayers three million dollars all because Cliven Bundy owes the agency one million in taxes and penalties for allowing his cattle to graze on federal land. The Bundy family has been raising cattle on this ranch since 1870 and just now the government decides to force him to pay the one million dollars in fines and taxes. He decided to protest this outrageous taxation policy of the government. So the government agency decided it was worth the three million just to show him the government means business. 

The arrival of about a thousand armed militia men arriving from all parts of the United States has made the government stand down. Yes, at this day and age the second amendment is causing men from all over the United States to form militias. That is supposed to be kept hush hush but its out of the bag now. The government for now will stand down but. Yes, the government will stand down for now but I seriously doubt if they will stand down for long. It is not in their nature to accept defeat from a taxpayer. 

And besides that, I had much rather have steak on my dinner plate than Mojave Dessert Turtle.

Theory of Relativity 40 Years Later

Having spent many years traveling around the world while serving in the Military Service, I recently returned the a town near where I spent the first six years of my childhood to settle down and enjoy a more relaxed middle life. Now was the perfect opportunity to visit places which had been only a memory for so long. Places that were so dear to me back when I was discovering such amazing things as caterpillars, butterflies, bumble bees and June bugs.

Grandpa, as I remembered, had a big farm with a cow, a horse, a pasture, a big lake, chickens, a big house and a large field that was almost always planted in something. I spent many happy hours there chasing butterflies and June bugs or throwing rocks into the lake. I especially liked going to the barn to watch the evening milking. I was never awake early enough for the morning milking. I always carried my little tin cup with me to get it filled with milk, warm and fresh from the cow. The only farm chores I was allowed to help with were feeding the chickens, gathering eggs and picking tomatoes. "Only the red ones please." grandma would say.

Dobson's General Store and Post Office, where grandpa went to get his mail and buy just about everything else he needed, was only a short distance from my grandpa's farm. It was a huge place with great long shelves and tables lined up creating long aisles. There was a huge pot-bellied stove right in the middle-most part of the store where the local men would sit around on cold, rainy days talking about farming, politics and playing checkers.

The tables were always stacked high with overalls, socks, brogans, shirts, shoes, bolts of cloth and just about any thing people needed back then. The shelves were stacked with assorted canned goods, sugar, flour, salt and other food items. A glass-covered case of pocket knives was conspicuously displayed on the front counter next to the huge cash register (The kind with large numbers that popped up in a glass window on top.) The huge glass cookie and candy jars with their shiny tin lids were placed on a shelf behind the cash register well out of reach but not out of sight.

In the rear of the store to the right were nails, hammers, saws, chains, hinges and all manner of hardware items for repairing almost anything around the farm that was broken. Hanging from the ceilings and walls were plow points, harnesses and all those amazing implements used for tilling the soil, as well as lanterns, like the one grandpa carried to the barn to see how to milk before sunrise. The left rear corner of the store was caged-in and served as the post office.
I visited what was once my grandpa's farm and found that while not much had changed, somehow everything looked different. The fir st thing that caught my eye was the lake. To my amazement it seemed much smaller. It was more a farm pond than it was the lake of my childhood memory. The pasture seemed smaller too, as did the field that once produced an abundance of fresh vegetables. The big house that my grandparents lived in now looked very much like and ordinary six room frame house painted white.

A mile up the road I found Dobson's General Store still standing and to my amazement, open for business, I stopped and went inside and see what it was like now. I immediately recognized the elderly lady behind the now modern checkout counter as Mr. Dobson's daughter even though she was now grey-haired and 40 years older. After reminding her whose grandson I was, she remembered me. We talked at length about the days gone by and as we talked, I surveyed the interior of the store, comparing what I was now seeing with memories I had filed away in the archives of my mind 40 years ago. Nothing inside the store was as I remembered. All the farm implements were gone, the post office was gone, the tables stacked high with clothing articles were gone, and the building that a six-year-old could get lost in was now filled with pre-packed quick food items relevant to the 1980, stacked on modern shelves or hung from pegboards. The pot-bellied stove was gone, having been replaced by central heat and cooling. The store seemed much smaller somehow although I'm sure it wasn’t. I could now stand at the front counter and survey the entire store. Somehow the world of my childhood memories had gotten smaller.

I sat quietly in the evening hours of that day, contemplating all that I had seen. I was unable to think of a reasonable explanation for the difference between what I remembered and what I had seen. I began to wonder if it could possibly be true. Is the size of the world relative to the age and physical size of the person viewing it? Could it just be possible that Einstein was so caught up in his theory of relativity that he overlooked another important fact, that the size of the world is relative to the size of the individual viewing it?

Turkey or Eagle, That Was The Question

On July 4th, 1776, the Continental Congress appointed a committee made up of Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and Benjamin Franklin to select a design for an official national seal. None of the designs suggested were acceptable. Benjamin Franklin said the turkey should be our national symbol because at the time he thought it was only native to the United States. Lady Liberty holding a shield of the 13 colonies was suggested but then rejected. 

The Alaskan Bald Eagle

It was William Barton, a Philadelphia artist who produced a new design that included a golden eagle. The golden eagle was rejected because it flew over England. Then the great bald eagle, which became our national bird was selected and accepted thinking that it was native to North America. It was not until much later they discovered it also is found in Canada and parts of South America.

Benjamin Franklin objected to the bald eagle on the grounds that it was an aggressive bird which would take food from lesser eagles and falcons rather than fend for itself. He was apparently not aware that the great bald eagle is an aggressive hunter which dives down on small rodents and animals on the ground grabbing them in their claws, carrying them to their nests to consume them and share them with their young.

As a patriotic American, I love the beauty of the bald eagle and think that our founding fathers made a great choice for our national symbol. 

The American Flag and Cinco de Mayo

Mexicans, for political or economic reasons, should be glad to become Americans “Citizens”. These foreigners should be required to forsake their ties to their homeland. If they are set on becoming anything less than citizens they should be required to leave and return to their homeland where they have freedom to celebrate their independence from France. Cinco de Mayo is not really their Independence Day. Their real day of Independence is September 16th. Cinco de Mayo is a Holiday  which commemorates the victory of the Mexican Militia over the French Army at The Battle Of Puebla in 1862.Their Cinco de Mayo is of no consequence to American citizens. If th

Fort McHenry Flag of 1812

e immigrants, legal or illegal want to hold on to their Cinco de Mayo and be offended by the American flag then they truly have no interest in truly becoming Americans and leave voluntarily or be deported. 

All other immigrants, Italians, Irish, Dutch, et al before them became citizens of the United States and accepted the American flag as their own and swore loyalty to it. As American citizens we celebrate the fourth of July as our independence day. If the Mexican find it in their hearts to cling to Cinco de Mayo as their day of independence and find the American Flag offensive, they don’t belong here. Make me and thousands of other Americans happy by sending them back to the land they hold so sacred and let them try and reclaim it and celebrate all of its holidays there. There is no room here for an alien, legal or not who clings to his “homeland‘s celebrations” and finds the American flag offensive.

I am repeating myself but I would like to end with a quote from Theodore Roosevelt in 1907:

"In the first place, we should insist that if the immigrant who comes here in good faith becomes an American and assimilates himself to us, he shall be treated on an exact equality with everyone else, for it is an outrage to discriminate against any such man because of creed, or birthplace, or origin. But this is predicated upon the person's becoming in every facet an American, and nothing but an American...There can be no divided allegiance here. Any man who says he is an American, but something else also, isn't an American at all. We have room for but one flag, the American flag... We have room for but one language here, and that is the English language... and we have room for but one sole loyalty and that is a loyalty to the American people." — Theodore Roosevelt 1907

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