Daily Blues & Views

Don Erath had two sons about 6 years apart.  He settles in the San Fernando Valley post-WWII as did thousands from all over the country.  Don was an honest man who had a strong sense of community service.  That's why he became an LA cop and volunteered to be the Scoutmaster of his sons Boy Scout troop.  He was supported by a longtime scout assistant Scoutmaster called Buck.  Buck Flatt was his full name.  It sounded more like a campground.  Buck had 3 sons.  An older son in his mid-20s and a pair of twins, Dean and Dale about 12 years old.  Dean was a consummate young Boy Scout.  His twin, Dean, was what we then referred to as "mentally retarded."  His mental disabilities did not hinder Dean in his ability and desire to be a Scout.  He just couldn't attain many of the other skills necessary to rise through the ranks from Tenderfoot to Eagle.  We all loved Dean and most of the other troop members felt empathy for him. ...

The newscaster said the Boy Scouts of American were in bankruptcy.  Given recent events, I wondered if he meant financial or moral bankruptcy.  Turns out it's both.  The court cases connected to a swirling amount of abuse cases seem to have done in the venerable organization.  I guess that means Boy's Life magazine is no more too.  It probably went the way of magazines already. Most guys I know probably have had some memory as a Boy Scout.  Most of us, I think, have more positive recollections rather than trauma.  But as Clay Risen points out, in a recent op-ed piece in the New York Times, the Boy Scouts may be gone, but scouting remains.  All the skills and experiences connected to camping, nature study, and community service still survive.  Now, I suppose, we will have an inclusive organization that gives young people, male and female and non-binary those same opportunities and experiences.  My time as a Boy Scout was lifechanging....

I saw an ad for census takers today.  A nice-looking young fella pictured with the official US Government Census taker's briefcase/portfolio on his shoulder was smiling like he'd just landed his dream job.  It is an important job, to be sure, but hardly a dream. I was reminded of my direct experience assisting an official census taker yers ago.  The job is as problematic as it is crucial.  Like our elections, the census is subject to questionable procedures. The year was 1970.  My girlfriend at the time, Kim, had come down to Houston, Texas from her social work job in Chicago to spend the remaining weeks of my tenure as a VISTA Volunteer before we took our VW Bus to New York and then across the country from coast to coast as I awaited my fate with the draft. Kim saw an ad for census takers in the city of Houston and figured it'd be a good temporary job as well as a way to make a few bucks of travel money.  She tested well and was soon outfitted with all ...

Valentine's day is rapidly becoming a dreaded holiday.  Is it the obligation or the routine that makes people dread February 14.  Perhaps it's the timing.  Remember those little cartoon-like Valentine cards we used to trade in elementary school?  So much easier then. As I look back on my romance history the regrets and mistakes, the successes and surprises, it occurs to me that the ones who I walked with for only a short time (or never) deserve a poem too.  Most of us have had people try to fix us up with someone who they thought would be a good match, only to wonder if our well-meaning friends really knew us at all. I hear that this day can be difficult for many people because it underscores their loneliness. It need not be that way. A valentine for those that never were For the slight attractions, And the duly warned, For the blind dates never seen, Our mutual friends meant well. Time heals with humor too. For the one who couldn't rec...

Last week I lost my friend and colleague.  I heard that she was ready to move on and that she notified those close to her she made the decision.  Bonnie loved and appreciated food.  Sometimes too much, but her decision to not eat anymore signaled her final decision. Last week I found two photos and posted them on social media.  One was from a river raft trip a bunch of us made back in 1979 on the American River in Northern California.  It was immediately after we completed the second leg of the trip.  There we are standing next to our guide against the big raft that took us through those rapids.  We are exhausted, but feeling pure joy.  Bonnie has the biggest grin of anyone. The second picture is from the early 1980s.  The school where we taught was having a "good friends" photo contest.  Students were invited to submit photos with their best friends.  As I recall, one of the yearbook photographers suggested that teachers enter ...

We know we're in the middle of dynamic social change.  We know the impact of technology in the last few decades.  Our daily lives have changed in so many ways and we credit ourselves with being able to keep up with how things are done.  Small but crucial victories. At some point it all adds up and we find ourselves wondering what happened to things like newspapers, shopping centers, our favorite brands, and even how we get from point A to point B. We know that the internet we embraced, the one that was supposed to bring us closer together, has unfortunately done the opposite.  We are reeling.  Trying to find some balance before our lives are ripped open to a vulnerability we can barely comprehend. It's always an unexpected revelation to return to a place where you previously lived in another state.  I often compare it to a lifelike dream.  There you are going down familiar streets but the configuration of things has changed.  Some streets are n...