Gator Country by Rebecca Renner - book review-five stars

 

BOOK REVIEW: FIVE STARS

Gator Country: Deception, Danger, and Alligators in the Everglades by Rebecca Renner

Gator Country is an in-depth look at the revolutionary transformation of Florida before and after Europeans turned this unique ecosystem upside down.

I personally witnessed it happen beginning in 1945 when the population was three million. My wife and I lived there for 22 years until the mid-1990s, and we wrote four books describing the monumental change while first living and cruising the waters, then engaged in ownership of income properties, and commercial shrimp fishing. We witnessed the change through two Arab oil embargoes and explosive population growth.

I found the book excellent; a great and informative read.

EXCERPTS

I would troll the creek for them, hoping to find the same magnificent gator that first lit up my imagination. But gators didn’t only pop up in the backyard ponds of my childhood. They took up residence everywhere in popular culture. In cartoons such as All Dogs Go to Heaven, fat and zany alligators provided comic relief. Although alligators can be dangerous, there is something in the way they move about the world, and especially in the way we react to them, that is inclined toward the slapstick.

Even in my hometown near Daytona Beach, it’s there. Just south, the Indian River Lagoon is embroiled in a decades-long fight to clean up Florida’s waterways. Once one of the most biodiverse estuaries in the Northern Hemisphere, boasting as many as forty-three hundred species of plants and animals, the lagoon is now dying. Nutrients from runoff have twisted the water composition. Algae took over, sparking a chain reaction that led to the most brutal manatee mortality event on record. More manatees died in the first three months of 2021 than in any other full year. Our love affair with lawns and golf courses is to blame. I was just as much part of the problem as any of my neighbors. It’s so easy to forget that our actions, no matter how small they seem, have environmental consequences. We defy nature, bending it to our will. That impulse is so prevalent in Western civilization that most of us have stopped noticing it at all. Nowhere is that animosity so clear as in the Everglades. For centuries, settlers have ripped up, paved, and drained the glades, and now we wonder why those ecosystems seem so irreparably broken that they’re poisoning us as we have done to them.

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The Dyslexic Advantage (Revised and Updated) by Eide, Brock - Book Review - Five Stars

 

BOOK REVIEW; FIVE STARS

The Dyslexic Advantage (Revised and Updated) Unlocking the Hidden Potential of the Dyslexic Brain by Eide, Brock

This book is about the kinds of individuals who are diagnosed with dyslexia: the types of minds they have, the ways they process information, and the things they do especially well. It’s not a book about something these individuals have. It’s about who they are.

We call these abilities the dyslexic advantage. While these features differ somewhat from person to person, they also form recognizable patterns—just like the different musical works of Mozart are distinguishable from one another, yet recognizably the work of the same composer.

Overlooking the talents that mature individuals with dyslexia characteristically display is like trying to understand caterpillars while ignoring the fact that they grow up to become butterflies.

EXCERPTS;

One day at work she was standing by her office window staring serenely out at the mountains while trying to let her mind “ease itself around a problem.” Her CFO walked by her door and looked in. All he could see was one of “his people” staring out the window, so he snapped at Sarah to get back to work. Sarah calmly replied, “You work in your way, I’ll work in mine. Now stop interrupting me.” Sarah later wrote of this episode: “What this CFO didn’t know was that staring into space is precisely how we work. It is our capacity to throw our brains into neutral and let connections assemble, that makes it possible for us to see connections that others can’t. We relax into the work.”

In this book that we’ve stated that tight mental focus and attention can inhibit creative connections.

I found that the evidence very much supported the idea that dyslexia is an exploratory specialization, which is oriented toward seeking the unknown.

Very bright dyslexic students may get by in the general classroom but fail to keep up in gifted or accelerated programs due to an inability to keep up with reading demands; or they may get by on a day-to-day basis, only to have their reading problems derail them on tests that are taken under time-limited conditions.

Poor outcomes are better interpreted as an indictment of our current failure to support there will still be students who do not read up to grade level (and many more who do not read up to the level of their general cognitive ability) by age nine, and we are currently failing to provide good educational alternatives for these students. It is also a serious mistake to conclude, as many somehow have, that reading progress can be achieved only up to age nine. This misunderstanding creates a “countdown to doomsday” mentality for reading instruction that is as misleading as it is harmful. The following egregious example, which appeared in a newspaper editorial, is one of many we could quote: “Children who do not learn to read and write by the end of third grade are likely doomed to school and life failure that can often lead to drug use and criminal behavior.” It is true that poorer outcomes of various sorts are statistically more likely for those who have not learned to read at grade level by age nine. However, these poor outcomes are better interpreted as an indictment of our current failure to support late-reading dyslexic learners than as proof of an inherent connection between poor decoding at age ten and an aptitude for social deviance. It is simply not true that students who have not learned to read by age nine cannot be successfully educated, even if their reading remains problematic. In fact, nearly all of the successful dyslexic persons profiled in this book did not read at grade level by age nine, and many could not read at all until well after that. Several of the most brilliant people profiled in this book have told us privately that they have still never read a single book cover to cover. Others like Vince Flynn and Kevin Horsley were well into their twenties before they tutored themselves into becoming skilled and voracious readers” and in Kevin’s case, the author of a book on speed-reading. And students like Jack Laws and Blake Charlton cited their dependence on text-to-speech readers and recorded books to keep up with reading. Simply providing better access to such assistive technologies for students who do not yet read as well as they think can prevent under performance due to an inability to access information from texts. As important as it is to improve reading ability, there is simply no good reason to deny access to assistive technologies for students whose performance is being hindered by their lack of skilled reading.

The primary difference is simply that for the dyslexic students, it is often a matter of success or failure, rather than a mere learning preference.

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The Drifter (A Peter Ash Novel) by Nick Petrie BOOK REVIEW - FIVE STARS

 

Book Review-Five Stars

The Drifter (A Peter Ash Novel) by Nick Petrie

This novel address the problems of combat vets suffering long term neurological problems that rendered them unfit to return to society and wrecked any chance at rehabilitation. This revealing and timely book clearly demonstrated the insanity of modern warfare.

Informative and excellent!

EXCERPTS;

He said he didn’t want to spend his life sitting at a desk.” She shook her head. “James never had trouble with motivation in his life. There was something wrong with him. I wanted him to talk to the VA, but he wouldn’t do that, either. He definitely wouldn’t talk to a therapist. He wouldn’t do anything. He slept all the time. I’d get home after working a double shift to find James asleep on the couch, a sink full of dirty dishes, and the boys glued to the Xbox without their supper. It went on for almost a year.”

Fatigue, anger, depression. These were classic symptoms of post-traumatic stress. And a traumatic brain injury, too. Peter knew it. Dinah knew it. Jimmy probably knew it, too. But that didn’t mean she could help him, or that he could help himself.

Peter thought about how Jimmy had made a point of saying please and thank you. Thanks for the coffee, brother. Please pass the hand grenades. It was funny, and Jimmy knew it, but he was serious about it, too, schooling the younger guys. A real man treats others with respect, and demands respect in return. It was an odd habit in a war zone, but because of Jimmy’s natural authority, it was also contagious. They had the politest platoon in the war. Maybe Jimmy was the polite kind of suicide. The kind who cleaned his apartment and paid his rent first. Because he didn’t want to inconvenience anyone.

The Marines had put a lot of effort into teaching him how to kill. They didn’t fuck around, they came right out and said it. Your job is to kill the enemy using any means at your disposal. And Peter was good at it. He’d had a lot of practice. He wasn’t complaining. He’d signed up for it. He’d wanted to serve his country. He was a goddamned Marine. He’d have that forever.

Veterans have double the rate of unemployment and homelessness as similar non-veterans. Then there’s bomb-blast brain injuries and PTSD, a lot of it undiagnosed. And the suicide rates are through the roof. The VA isn’t helping much. So we’ve got to help ourselves.”

I can’t stand those fucking money guys. Some sociologist did a study, did you hear about this? There are four times as many psychopaths in finance as in the general population. About the same percentage as in prisons.

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1123 Hard To Believe Facts: From the Creator of the Popular Trivia Website RaiseYourBrain.com - book review

 

BOOK REVIEW-FIVE STARS

1123 Hard To Believe Facts: From the Creator of the Popular Trivia Website RaiseYourBrain.com

An interesting, informative and enlightening read.

EXCERPTS:

Statistically, more African Americans are killed by police officers than by terrorists.

Most serial killers have personality disorders, such as paranoia, excessive rage, delusions of grandeur and not serious mental illnesses like schizophrenia.

For every ton of shrimps caught, 8 tons of other sea creatures are killed as collateral damage.

The inventor of the Geiger counter, Hans Geiger, became an ardent Nazi supporter and reportedly facilitated sending several fellow scientists to concentration camps.

In the period 1936-39, every second Red Army general was executed by Stalin.

Since 1960, the world has spent more money on arms each decade than all of the military expenses during the two world wars combined.

Male visitors with long hair were not admitted to Disneyland until the late 1960s.

More Russians (both civilians and military personnel) died during the siege of Leningrad alone than all British and American casualties combined (including civilians) during the whole of World War II.

In China, some pregnancy tests are sold together with a discount coupon for an abortion clinic.

The Dutch government pays for lap-dances and prostitutes for disabled people.

For every ton of shrimps caught, 8 tons of other sea creatures are killed as collateral damage.

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THE LAWLESS STATE OF FLORIDA

 

THE LAWLESS STATE OF FLORIDA

When Jane and I first moved to the State of Florida back in late 1972, the state had seven million residents and the Arab oil embargo was just starting to show its ugly financial effects.

Tourism was slowing and new construction of all kinds had come to a halt. Disney had picked a bad time to open its Orlando location and we were happy not to be actively in the labor market.

In those days Florida was still a laid-back outpost of America where you didn’t need a fishing license and liquor stores had drive-up windows where you could get your open beer in a “sippin-sack” or a mixed drink to drink as you legally clutched around town in your “pick-em-up-truck”.

The sleepy small downtown southern atmosphere was everywhere. Motor vehicles parked with open windows and their keys left in the ignition were the rule. In the stores you were politely addressed by a “yes sir” or “yes ma'm” and out on the road it was still customary to wave a greeting to everyone that you met.

Shortly things were to change and I have heard the blame put upon those “God damn Yankees”, but the drug culture, food stamps for everybody and more lawyers than the whole world could tolerate crammed into one state with lawsuit mania gone wild definitely did alter the status quo.

Soon the national franchise establishments out gunned all the mom and pop businesses and there would be no going back to the relaxed world of neighborhoods that were a community unto themselves.

Billboards sprung up along Florida’s highways touting this slogan; “SEE FLORIDA LIKE A NATIVE!” and the depiction below was looking down the barrel of a loaded revolver.

Out on highway 95 at the South Carolina border was an oversized billboard welcoming all south-bound traffic with this slogan; “YOU ARE ENTERING KKK TERRITORY”

Make no mistake about it, Yankee this is the “Heart of Dixie!”

By the early 1990’s little old laid back Saint Augustine, Florida with its 12,000 people had the dubious distinction of having 22 pages of lawyer ads in their local phonebook. The back cover of that phonebook featured a lawyer and his law firm that Jane and I had business dealings with that had an advertisement stating, “If your neighbor has done you wrong we will make it right”.

LAWYERS, ATTORNEYS AND ST. AUGUSTINE’S BOOMING NEW BUSINESS;

This isn’t exactly a money generating enterprise, just a money redistribution activity.

In the early 1970s when Jane and first arrived in the Sunshine State the population was 7 million residents and little old St. Augustine had just over 12,000.

We slowly became aware of a local business that didn’t at first seem to show any outward signs of industrial enterprise.

While thumbing through the St. Augustine phone book I had to do a double take and then start counting. The Yellow Pages had twenty pages plus the back cover of nothing but lawyers and their ads. This made me think…how could a small town like this possibly support and sustain this many lawyers?

Well, I soon began to see just how these money manipulators worked when I made my first visit to one of them for a land transaction. I was told right up front that I had big problems and that I really needed their service.

(I have to tell this lawyer joke here because it is so fitting; A man asks the lawyer how much he charges and the lawyer responds; $500.00 per question. The man shockingly says isn’t that a lot of money? The lawyer responds, yes, and what is your third question?)

This wasn’t a stagnant segment of the economy, quite to the contrary in the next twenty years the number of lawyers advertising in the St. Augustine phone book went from twenty to twenty-eight pages while the population of the state climbed to 17 million.

With this many lawyers the competition for the client buck became extraordinarily apparent while reading through the Yellow pages of the phone book.

(Here are just a few of those ads that I found innovative and amusing.)

This eye catching ad comes on strong; ACCIDENTS? HELP! Car*, Truck*, Slip and Fall*, Dog bites*, Injuries of all types. If you have been seriously injured or lost a loved one in an accident DUE to the carelessness of someone else. I would like to help you.

If you can’t come to our office we will be glad to come to you with 24 hour service 7 days a week. (Home delivery just like the pizza guy.)

This next one, a former criminal prosecutor lists a long catalog of specialties and ends his ad like this; 24 hour service/ major credit cards accepted! (If you have credit you are in.)

Get a load of this next attorney who right up front is bragging about influence peddling.

(If I am not mistaken, influence peddling used to be a criminal offence.)

“Former Deputy State Attorney and Chief Prosecutor.”

Here this next one is the ambulance chaser extraordinaire; Featuring “Serious Injury and Death Cases” this lawyer goes on to advertise home and hospital visits, 24 hour emergency service, Local, National and International cases. We Fly To Meet Your Needs!

Just like a good neighbor this next lawyer states up front that he is; “Here to Help” with no fee until a recovery is made…so, for piece of mind call now! Any type of injury from dog bites to bikes and machines to name a few are part of the long list. In small print on the bottom of the page was this disclaimer; (OUR FEE IS BASED ON A PERCENTAGE OF THE TOTAL RECOVERY AND IS COMPUTED BEFORE DEDUCTING OUT-OF-POCKET EXPENSES.

(A specialist); “Practice limited to: CAR ACCIDENTS” (No use being a Jack-of-all-trades when there is enough dough in this stuff!)

The variety of claims range from; “Personal Touch to accepts credit cards, certified, “We do it All!” and bankruptcy justice for our client…screw all the others? This “Specialist in extractions” claims to limit his practice to ten different categories including “breast implant cases and asbestos.

I loved seeing this featured word “HONEST”, could they possibly be casting mistrust and suspicion about the truthfulness of their competition?

Speaking of featured words this bankruptcy law office underlines for emphases; FREE OF CHARGE and goes on to list four categories of bankruptcy, Chapter 7…liquidation, 11 reorganization, 12 farmers plan and payment plan all with free initial consultation.

The ad photos in the Yellow pages say more than a thousand words could possibly say but here is my summarized interpretation of a few; With a beach bum hair-do and tight lips this guy says with his eyes; “I’m Tough”.

The photo of two bearded partners with the scale of justice prominently placed between them says; “trust us, we do it all”.

The woman with an eye-catching picture of a smile of innocence has trust and confidence beaming off the page…how could you not trust her?

The team photos give the impression that you will have the whole law firm pulling just for you. Then in court you shockingly find out just because they share the same roof doesn’t mean they are always on the same team.

The law firm lists three members but there are only two in the photo?

Hidden implications lurk in ads playing on personal greed and my read comes out differently than the printed word though I know that reading between the lines is a dangerous place to search for the truth. A bankruptcy specialist seems to say to me in his ad; “Screw everybody for your excesses and irresponsibility.

This ad from an out of town firm seems to say to me; Yah, we are out of town but what the hell, it pays to advertise.

I loved this header featured in one of the ads; “EXPERIENCED”. My first thoughts were; Experienced? Oh really? How long?

There was even a map accompanied by credit card logos that was supposed to entice the prospective client to just drop in the law office credit card in hand.

The phone book company’s lawyers must have had a hand in this little ad placed on each and every one of the 28 pages of attorney’s ads just to cover eventualities that could arise out of this group whose source of income came from expunging legal settlements of one kind or another. “The hiring of a lawyer is an important decision that should not be based solely upon advertisements. Before you decide, ask us to send you free written information about our qualifications and experience.”

As this old Spanish saying I love so much says; “A good lawyer makes a bad neighbor.”

If you were going to be in business in Florida you had better be fully aware of how to protect yourself from financial ruin. First you would need extensive liability insurance that had a policy value at least twice your net worth. In fact even if you weren’t in business you needed liability insurance to cover things as strange as a thief injuring himself during the act of robbing you in your own home. Next you had better have a good lawyer on a contingency that was ready to pull your feet out of the legal fire.

This Florida legal industry is one of the most entrenched, lucrative and competitive industries in the state.

Even all the doctors in the area combined had less than 20 pages of phone book ads probably because that in the end the lawyers wound up with all the loot.

Lawsuits against the medical profession made a whole state wide industry in itself and some doctors in St. Augustine actually got sued to the point that they were driven to financial rack and ruin so that they then had to cease and desist their practices.

A lawyer acquaintance of ours, Patrick R., was going in for surgery and we told him definitely not to let the doctors know that you are a lawyer. Patrick actually had a quizzical look on his face when he responded, “why not?” We said that the one thing that doctors absolutely unequivocally detest and despise are lawyers and what better time for a disgruntled doctor to do a little payback than when they had a lawyer under the knife.

The American trial by jury system was made to order for these slickster lawyers that could bamboozle the bucks for insane settlements and then throw in punitive damages to suck out every last cent.

I am still shaking my head at this one. A Florida woman sued a hospital for a million dollars and collected. She claimed that she had lost her psychic powers because of a hospital administered brain scan. If she was indeed a true psychic she would have known in advance of the outcome…right? Can you believe that a jury actually deliberated this one…and then gave her a million bucks!

***

Florida had the very best politicians that money could buy, land developers found new ways to snare prospective buyers with catchy names for their developments like “The Dunes” that was actually out in the woods far from any shore, “The Shores” far from any water, “The Heights” down in some marginally swampy low land and “St. Johns Woods” with nary a tree in sight.

If truth in advertising was the only sin of these developers it wouldn’t have been so bad but the new buyers usually wouldn’t find out for several years that there were no reinforcement rods in cement walls that began to crack and buckle or the roof blew away for lack of proper fasteners. But the eager Yankees would buy just about anything if the payment schedule was easy. And so they did as another land rush boom expansion picked up speed and momentum. Florida has this allure like the irresistible temptation of a gambling establishment. The jackpot is just another wager away, and the old adage once burned twice warned does not apply.

By the 1980’s we were beginning to see the first wave of this transition to lawlessness in the land of the fuzz-buster when our dinghy was stolen three different times.

The first time our distinctive dinghy was stolen we had our live-aboard boat Dursmirg anchored out in Matanzas Bay off of the City Yacht Pier in downtown St. Augustine. We had gone ashore leaving our very distinctive little dinghy that had our boat’s name, Dursmirg, painted on each side in one foot tall block letters plus on the stern was painted Bingy Dinghy I.

These thefts were in broad daylight in front of the City Yacht Pier crew that all knew us well and our strange little one-of-a-kind Bingy Dinghy.

We reported the theft to the marine patrol and in less than an hour our dinghy was returned and the thieves apprehended.

We were asked if we wanted to bring charges and I said, “Absolutely”.

Taking the tender of an anchored out boat is just like stealing a man’s horse in the desert. We lived aboard our anchored out boat and our dinghy was the only way home or to shore and yes, we were allergic to shark bites, so swimming in and out was out of the question!

Well, the young thieves father we knew slightly came to us irately furious stating that, “this was not stealing”.

Then I told him that as long as he had absolutely no concept of the law and property rights that the judge would just have to try to explain this matter to him, as I obviously could not.

Well that was just the beginning not just of the stealing and vandalism but also the national attitude that the victim could and would be damned.

After all this was “The Lawless State of Florida”.

It soon became apparent that it was a bigger offense to attempt to protect your own property than it was to be the burglar, who in many cases would sue and win judgments against the robbery victims for any bodily injuries incurred while in the act of committing the crime.

Florida had become “the land of the victim be damned”, with no recourses or restitution for the victims and of course with all the high-powered lawyers and bleeding heart juries it was far better to be rich and guilty than poor and innocent.

Jane and I worked hard to build our resources and try to make the world a better place.

By the mid 1980’s we had increased our holdings to include 640 feet of river frontage and a deep-water dock to accommodate our fleet that consisted of our 46-foot motor sailor Dursmirg and our commercial fishing trawler Secotan plus a number of smaller vessels that included our 26-foot Columbia sailboat El Barco.

In our last eight years living in Florida, we were broken into nine different times and vandalized. Two of those times I apprehended the thieves at gunpoint.

It became necessary to sleep with an automatic shotgun and pistol plus devise a silent system of burglar alarms.

My first alarms worked but didn’t catch the thieves. Using motion detectors connected to lights and a radio I would get light and sound that kept most burglars away. The occasional raccoon also was sent scrambling.

Later I became even more sophisticated with silent alarms and a sensitive intercom system.

A note here; because of the huge liability situation that property owners were put into while being victimized by thieves it was very important to have a complete and thorough knowledge of just what the legal ramifications would be under these numerous robbery circumstances so we had several intense discussions with our lawyer before we even attempted to defend our own property.

Here is some of the advice that our lawyer gave to us; “Number one was to never shoot the villain in the back, make sure that you are dispatching the intruder and not just wounding him with no more than three shots. If for some reason the intruder is outside be sure to drag him inside and last but not least put something in his hand …even a rolled up newspaper will do. Then next call me, (your lawyer) and don’t notify the police, I being your lawyer will take care of that”.

So, there you have the situation that the property owner was put in and the confidential advice from our lawyer. If the situation was handled differently the outcome could be disastrous and criminal charges might even be brought against the victimized property owner. The police department gave similar advice.

I discovered that my greatest asset when dealing with these thieving scoundrels was silence and surprise.

So, with no lights and my very best sneakers, (my bare feet), I would quietly creep out, with my loaded gun cocked and ready, stealthy in the shadows to appraise the situation; first fact finding, how many people would I be confronting?

Were they armed?

How aggressive were they and when could I get in position where I had them covered while I would have a protected position in order to carry out the open warfare that could easily ensue?

Then as Jane was at the same time tip toeing off silently to call the police, I waited for the precise moment to apprehend the thieves. Surprise is essential in this situation followed by a complete take-charge atmosphere. At the correct moment I would chamber the shotgun…an unmistakable sound and give the command: “Don’t move! Don’t even move!” The police would be there shortly especially when my wife informed them that her husband was holding suspects at gunpoint.

If I had been a violent type of person I certainly could have had my opportunities to blow these thieves out of existence but I did manage to turn them all over to the police at gun point so that whatever justice there was could then be carried out.

One of these incidents happened while our commercial fishing vessel, Secotan tied to our dock, was being boarded at 4 AM. Jane and I were sleeping aboard our boat Dursmirg also tied to the dock. The two vessels were tied stern to stern.

This was a particularly quiet early morning. There wasn’t even a whisper of breeze and the distant crash of ocean waves was just barely audible.

Only the occasional nocturnal sound of a hungry raccoon rummaging through the abundant oysters crunching and cracking in search of a meal could distinctively be heard.

Then the alarm was sounded!

Our ever vigilant nocturnal neighbors noisily let us know of the presence on an intruder.

Only those in tune with the special realm of wild aquatic natural tidal marsh would recognize these distinctive voices of nature.

First the clack-clack-clack of the great blue heron as he plumed his wings to take flight and almost simultaneously the little nearly obscure marsh grass dweller, the elusive marsh hen gave out its rat-a-tat-tat.

These were my signals to leap out of even the deepest sleep and spring into action.

Silence and stealth were my tactics. With a loaded automatic pistol in hand and ready for action bare foot and silent as a cat on the prowl and slinking through shadows fact finding first.

How many intruders were there?

What were they doing?

Were they armed and if so with what?

Then develop a strategy.

Next with cover for myself I would find the best moment.

We had in excess of $10,000 worth of electronics aboard our shrimp trawler which was evidently too big a temptation for our neighbor Harold.

Harold’s mother owned the largest commercial building in downtown Jacksonville, Florida and had lots of high priced lawyers to get her kleptomaniac son off the hook, but he still received six months probation, which was at least an acknowledgement of the crime being committed.

When the police arrived I turned Harold over to them and he proceeded to call me every dirty derogatory expletive laced name he could conger up.

I told Harold that if the judge bought his story it would be OK with me but he needed to tell the judge because I was pressing charges and I knew that stealing was just so much fun until he got caught.

Ironically after this incident a series of break-ins and robberies of marine electronics at the marina just up the river from us dried up.

Florida became a lawless place and glib tongued lawyers boasted of having perfect records of springing all drunken driving cases, grand theft auto wouldn’t even warrant one night in jail and the convenience stores were being held up 2, 3 and even four times every night.

It was like the thieves would take a number and wait their turn standing in line to get in to steal.

As I now think back over the years to my childhood I recall that my father always exceeded the speed limit when he drove and that was breaking the law. Well it soon became the standard thing to do especially when radar detectors almost became standard equipment in new cars in America. The law soon became a joke and little by little anything that could be gotten away with was acceptable.

Fuzz busters made a joke of the basic law, so where do you draw the line?

Sure America had its lawlessness; we were continuously being robbed while we were building our boat Dursmirg.

When we made our maiden voyage from Superior, Wisconsin to Florida we had three incidents of uninvited intruders. In Florida we had our dinghy stolen three different times but now the pace and frequency of robberies went wild. Was it the drug culture and all the criminal lawyers making an industry to exploit?

The Muslims are strict and swift with their form of justice and cutting off the hand of a thief and turning him lose or stoning to death instead of incarceration takes care of their problem then and there.

This is in many ways much more cost effective than lengthy prison sentences. New York City’s policy of zero tolerance completely reversed that city’s horrific crime problem and that could possibly be what is needed nationally if it ever becomes popular again to make lawlessness a criminal offense with no exceptions for the rich or influential.

I certainly hope that some overzealous and fanatical movement won’t take the law enforcement to the extremes of hand amputation.

For Jane and I sleeping with loaded guns and burglar alarms just wasn’t going to lend itself to a quality lifestyle so we headed to a peaceful out of the way spot with a tropical climate excellent for Jane’s health and where there was still police brutality against criminals. This is where a property owner could still defend his property and would even be commended for doing so.

On this crowded planet, law and order will continue to deteriorate as more and more disadvantaged people are on the outside of opportunity with no hope of ever bettering their condition.

It is easy for me to see that it wouldn’t take much prodding for some homeless and hungry child to pick up a gun and take what he wants.

If that was the only problem the solution would be simple but as I stated earlier drugs, lawlessness and complete apathy among other things have made this world a lot less harmonious and safe place to live in.

These problems could be solved without becoming fanatical, but human nature won’t make a change until some fanatical political leader riles the masses into a lynch-mob mentality and a fanatical solution seems like the only logical solution.

And so the radical fanatical pendulum must take its course again and again.

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What is Fascism?

 

WHAT IS FASCISM?

From Webster’s Third International Unabridged Dictionary;

Fascism; “any program for setting up a centralized autocratic national regime with severely nationalistic policies, exercising regimentation of industry, commerce and finance, rigid censorship and forcible suppression of opposition”.

The Thousand-year Reich in Germany only survived for twelve years under fascism.

Here is what war correspondent Eric Sevareid had to say after total immersion in WWII from start to finish in his monumental book, Not So Will A Dream:

“Now our Military Government officers were sorting out the sick and the healthy at the entryway, bringing water for them and dispatching trucks for bread and meat. The Germans clustered in large groups, watching the Americans’ every move and gesture. The woman’s legs were smeared with coal dust, and their hair straggled down over their unwashed faces while children blinked their eyes and clung to their mothers’ skirts. Despite this familiar situation of misery and starvation, a thing I had seen many times before, the relationship was not the normal one. It was conqueror and conquered, of course, but there was something else besides. You could see in their eyes. There were the sullen expressions of suspicion which one suspected, but there were other expressions, which revealed a deep, fixed indignation, which said: “This cannot happen to us.” There seemed to be a sheep like desire to do exactly as they were told, and yet an air of outraged dignity. When their burgomaster announced in a loud voice that the Americans would be unable to move back into their homes until the next day, a muttering ran through the crowd, there were drooping sneers on the faces of some of the young men and women, and one white haired grandmother burst into shrieks of despair and anger. Human misery is human misery, but I could not avoid a sudden feeling of detestation and incredulity. Millions of people in many lands were in the same condition, and worse, because of what the Germans had done. The starving dehumanized foreign workers were just down the road. The homes of these Germans, as we had verified, were stocked with food, warm clothes, new furniture, and radios. One could tell at ounce merely by looking into their faces that they had not the faintest sense of having done anything wrong, that they were utterly unable to grasp what had happened to them and their country, that they had been, were now, and would continue to be concerned only with themselves, unable even to imagine the suffering of others.

It could have been self-deceptive, but I had a profound feeling of having seen at a flash into the minds of a people who were different. As we drove back across the river I realized that a contradiction had been introduced into what had been a basic belief of mine: that all people are essentially the same, that all are capable of democracy and peace, that given bread and security they will have no desire to aggress upon others, that if all people are given bread and security long enough, wars will be impossible. Now I felt entirely unsure of the economic interpretation of political events. Whatever the overpowering logic of Marx and others, I had an uneasy feeling that the structure broke down where the Germans were concerned. It was difficult to put into words, but somehow they were different. They were not quite rational or normal in the realm of human relationships, in the procedures of social existence. There was an inexplicable knot in their souls. Their spirit was an ingrown one, not an outgoing one. Perhaps, as some said there was a loneliness in them, but if so it was a loneliness which neither we nor they could assuage on this world, this side of death. Had this generation of breast-beating and mysticism alone done this to them? I was not sure; I was inclined to feel it was a basic and permanent matter, and how outsiders-conquerors and others- were to go about altering this state of affairs I had no idea. The war we had poured upon the country had certainly altered Germany; I had yet to believe that it had altered the Germans.”

(So, that is what Eric Sevareid had to say about the Germans directly after the war.)

A quote from my wife Jane: “No politician can exist without a Krupp behind them!”

The German people as a whole are honest, hard working, law abiding, dedicated, and loyal to their leadership. When compared to all nationalities world wide they stack up near the very top in all of the above attributes.

Now America: “The home of the brave”

“The land of the free, with Liberty and Justice for ALL”

is under the jackboot of fascism.

Will it survive the dynasty?

In addition, if so, how long?

As America entered WWII, the slogan was; “Kill the Nazis” and that soon became; “Kill the Germans”.

So, it went from kill Castro to kill the “Cubans”, then; “kill the Viet Cong became kill the gooks”. Recently this became kill Ben Laden and that soon moved on to “kill the rag-heads”.

Who are the insurgents now?

Who are the imperialists?

Where is the evil empire?

America needs to take a long look in the mirror!

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Ship Captain's Daughter by Ann Michler Lewis-Book Review-Five Stars

 

BOOK REVIEW – FIVE STARS

Ship Captain's Daughter by Ann Michler Lewis 

This is the story of the author’s father Willis Carl Michler who sailed the Great Lakes for forty-seven years and was a captain of thirteen different ships.

The captain’s daughter wrote that he was “Drawn to the water and the big ships as a young man, he followed a dream of becoming a Great Lakes ship captain, and he and my mother and I lived it out together, in all its rich and varied and demanding dimensions.”

I grew up at the head of the Great Lakes in Superior, Wisconsin. Great Lakes freighters were a common sight. As a youth I was fascinated by the bum boats that supplied the supplied the ships crew with their daily needs while the ships were docked loading and unloading cargo. When I was still in high school I would take my parents speed boat out in the Duluth/Superior harbor and tie up to the bum boat where I could buy beer.

The captain’s daughter also enjoyed her experience of visiting the bum boats.

Here is a look at those Bum boats from the authors own experience.

"When I felt my first foot on the deck, I started to breathe again. He took my hand, and we made our way to the little door. Four steps down and, phew! The smell of sweet tobacco made me gag. I plugged my nose and hesitated, but the cheery calendar girls smiling and winking all around were very welcoming, not to mention the ladies on the covers of magazines on the book rack. Half of our ship’s crew was in there, talking and laughing, drinking beer and smoking and telling jokes. No other girls in there, that’s for sure! Dad quickly steered me around to the back, which was so crowded that I disappeared in between the cases of watches, bins of underwear and socks, boxes of birthday cards, bottles of perfume, razors, aftershave, and columns of cartons of Camels and Lucky Strikes. All sizes of transistor radios covered the walls from floor to ceiling. I noticed a whole section of cough medicines and a display of Brylcreem with a big cardboard picture of a man with curly dark brown hair and a blond woman with her hand behind his ear. What I liked best of all, though, were the boxes of candy and gum lined up in double rows in front of the cash register right next to the cigarette lighters. Behind the register stood Mr. Kaner, who was gruff, gravelly voiced, and kind of scary to a young customer like myself. He seemed to know everyone by name and was passing on the news from the last ship, where he had just seen a sailor who had previously been on our ship. When he saw me, his bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. I took a step backward, but he came around the counter, bent down, and made a big fuss over me, telling me that I was beautiful and that I had been brave to come down. Afterward, he took me over to the freezer and let me pick out a free ice cream bar. Dad bought a Dreamsicle for himself, and we said good-bye to Mr. Kaner and went out on deck to eat our treats.”

This book is an excellent look at the life of a Great Lakes ship captain’s family in the years when America was loved and envied. A great book!

More excerpts from Ship Captain's Daughter by Ann Michler Lewis

Father’s sailing career spanned the height of Great Lakes iron ore shipping, the lows of the Great Depression, World War II (during which time the sailors served the country as members of the Merchant Marine), the opening of the St. Lawrence Seaway, the advent of radar, and the development of the taconite trade. He sailed before the invention of computers, GPS, cell phones, email, and Skype—and before sailors could apply for summer vacations. When I was growing up, we relied on letters.

Today the ships that traverse the Great Lakes can be tracked on the internet. Many are twice the size of the freighters my dad first sailed, though at this writing, my father’s last command, the SS Herbert C.

Most people in Duluth welcomed spring. For our family, it was the beginning of the end, not only of winter, but also of our land time together. When the days grew longer and the ice on Lake Superior began to break up, Dad’s shipping orders were soon to come. Every day they didn’t was a relief.

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The Bohemian Flats: A Novel by Mary Relindes BOOK REVIEW- FIVE STARS

BOOK REVIEW: FIVE STARS

The Bohemian Flats: A Novel by Mary Relindes

An excellent book for the generations of immigrants who lost track of the historical divisions that precipitated wars and land grabs that continue to this day.

As a child born in 1940 my first recollections of WW ll was the slogan “Kill the Nazis” that turned into this: “Kill the Germans”. Ironically that war that ended in 1945 was the last war that America would win.

Historically speaking this well-written monumental book is a great eye opener.

Excerpts:

“There is nothing much for you and Albert here in Germany, being second and third sons. Nothing to inherit. You need to become more fluent in English. Albert is nearly there. Because when you become men, you will need to leave this country, leave Europe. It is America you must go to. There at least you will have the chance to find what the French call joie de vivre—the joy of life.”

He strolls through neighborhoods, rich, middle class, and working poor, seeing that the definition of each level remains the same. The rich have large and opulent houses set back from the road with large flower gardens and lawns, many gated to keep uninvited pedestrians out. The middle class have smaller but still comfortable houses, sitting on just enough of a lot to command some respectable grass frontage. The poor neighborhoods are like the Flats, a group of Minneapolis police officers are forcing an Indian family to leave the teepee they had pitched among the trees next to a sash and door company. He watches city workers dismantle the teepee, stack the lodge poles, and pile up the hides that covered them. The Indian family watches impassively but Raymundo recognizes the deep reserve of grief.

The Lutherans in Augsburg saw miracles as flamboyant displays of Catholic mysticism and a shameless way to peddle holy relics: something the Protestants had gotten rid of with the Reformation.

They had learned about the Peace of Augsburg agreement in 1555, allowing the two religions to coexist with uneasy duality.

“Do not tell me what is blasphemous!” “This discussion is clearly pointless,” Albert interjects. “We are withdrawing our sons from the school. My wife and I will teach them at home. Good day.” “Then they will be cast into ignorance,” the priest shouts as they walk away. Magdalena turns around. “I doubt that very much. It is you who is ignorant. Damnant quodnon intelligent.” The old priest stares at her. She reads his thoughts as though he has spoken. The Jew speaks Latin. He makes the sign of the cross with a shaking hand.

The Fox Lake people found the name of the church and school strange—Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow—and after seeing a man nailed to a crosshatch of logs inside, concluded that the Catholics were obsessed with sorrow, death, and punishment.

She thinks of Ernst Hasse, the founder of the Alldeutsche Verband—the Pan-German League—and what he said, published in an Augsburg newspaper in 1891. We want territory even if it belongs to foreigners, so that we may shape the future according to our needs. Her mother was horrified, her father disgusted.

They know now that the book that Raymond had sent to them—Northern Wisconsin: A Hand-book for the Homeseeker—was greatly exaggerated and full of outright lies in some parts.

It was a book that lured Joseph Weir to this part of Wisconsin. They have since learned that the lumber companies, after decimating the land of its timber, colluded in the lie so that they could unload what they considered worthless land onto to unsuspecting immigrants.

It upset them but did not deter them.

She is no longer in control of what happens, is no longer so safe from harm. There is a bigger world, a world in which people hate other people based on where they are from.

Father Boland is affected by the disturbing news but refuses to have his German parishioners bear the guilt of actions they are not a part of. Rather than destroy the books, he has put them in the rectory’s attic.

The number of German deserters has skyrocketed; more have given themselves up as prisoners, desperate for food and sick of fighting. Some of them are thrilled when Americans capture them. “I want to be a citizen of America,” a young private announced to Eberhard, his hands still in the air.

Even if he had the money, he fears what would happen in his absence if he left the front line of the battle. He also fears that a visit would ensnare him into becoming involved in the inevitable second war. And he won’t do that. He’s done his service. He won’t abandon the Flats again. Goddamn Hitler! he thinks. Goddamn Minneapolis!

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The Collaborator by Diane Armstrong Book Review-Five Stars

 

BOOK REVIEW FIVE STARS

The Collaborator by Diane Armstrong

The Collaborator is a captivating historical novel laced with factual incidents that build suspense while enticing you with apprehension. This fast moving story is spellbinding from beginning to end, edited with surprising twists and turns.

EXCERPTS;

She learns that in 1944 the Nazis invaded Hungary and disenfranchised the Jews with the co-operation of the government. Horrified, she tries to imagine a world where your government turns against you, where phones are disconnected, radios confiscated, car and bus travel forbidden, bank accounts frozen, and employment terminated. You wake up one day and discover that you are a despised nonperson in your own country. He knows that for most people, denying reality is preferable to confronting a disturbing truth.

One way or another, for noble motives or base ones, or merely from self-interest and the urge to survive, war turns us all into collaborators.

‘Everyone believes in peace in theory,’ he says quietly. ‘It’s the reality that’s the problem. For peace to take place, both parties have to want it, not just one.

We believe that if you wait for the other side to give in nothing will ever change. And if we let our government keep stealing Palestinian land and building more settlements, things will only get worse.’

They call themselves Israel First. They reckon we’re Palestinian collaborators, and threaten us with divine vengeance because we’re agitating for a two-state solution,’ he said. ‘They could be connected with the extremists who killed my grandfather, but even if they’re not, they might know something about Moshe Binsztok. Just tread carefully. They’re zealots with fundamentalist ideas and they don’t take kindly to opposing views.’

‘It’s like what George Bernard Shaw said about communism. If you’re not a communist when you’re young, you have no heart, but if you’re still a communist when you’re old, you have no brain.’

A point to ponder: When a slave finally over throws his master the first thing the freed slave does is go out and get himself a slave.

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November's Fury: The Deadly Great Lakes Hurricane of 1913 by Michel Schumacher-book Review-Five Stars

 

BOOK REVIEW - FIVE STARS

November's Fury: The Deadly Great Lakes Hurricane of 1913 by Michel Schumacher

I loved this fact-filled true story. My wife Jane and I have sailed the Great Lakes, their connecting rivers and locks to the Atlantic Ocean via the St. Lawrence Seaway. Our first voyage starting in Superior, Wisconsin, was on our home built and designed 46 foot sailing vessel Dursmirg. We have also transited the Atlantic, the St. Lawrence Seaway, and the Great Lakes by freighter.

We have witnessed in a November windstorm a large lake freighters broached sideways by a single wave through the Superior, Wisconsin, entry, and then miraculously straighten up in the blink of an eye to glide through the entry channel unscathed. That episode gave us everlasting nightmares.

EXCERPTS:

A “PERFECT STORM” on the Great Lakes, it would be the one that pounded the lakes from November 7 through November 10, 1913, leaving a wake of destruction unlike anything ever seen on freshwater at any point in recorded history. By the time the storm had blown out of the region, twelve boats had sunk, thirty-one more had been grounded on rocks or beaches, and dozens more were severely damaged. More than 250 men lost their lives. Eight boats, with their entire crews, were lost in a single day on Lake Huron alone.

Out on the lakes, hurricane-force winds built thirty- to forty-foot waves that mercilessly assaulted vessels unfortunate enough to be out on the water—

Similar weather conditions might revisit the lakes, but advances in science, technology, and communications have made it easier to stay out of harm’s way.

Larson described the sheer force generated by the kind of waves on Lakes Michigan and Superior and, later, Lake Huron: “A single cubic yard of water weighs about fifteen hundred pounds,” Larson wrote. “A wave fifty feet long and ten feet high has a static weight of over eighty thousand pounds. Moving at thirty miles an hour, it generates forward momentum of over two million pounds.”

The wind velocity on the open water vastly exceeded the velocities recorded on land.

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Northmen: The Viking Saga, 793–1241 by John Haywood BOOK REVIEW FIVE STARS

 

BOOK REVIEW - FIVE STARS

Northmen: The Viking Saga, 793–1241 by John Haywood

In Northmen thousands of questions are answered about this transitional period of the Viking era.

This stand alone group in Scandinavia before there were any defined borders were all considered Vikings and were under numerous tribal leaders that mostly went their separate ways.

John Hayward gives a great overview of the influence and impact that this all had.

Peaceful places have no history, and this place abounds in history.

Worthy of more than five stars.

EXCERPTS:

The Vikings were an unprecedented phenomenon in European history, not for any technological, military or cultural innovation that they contributed to–in most respects they were really rather backward and even their shipbuilding methods were conservative–but for the vast expanse of their horizons. No previous Europeans had ever seen so much of the world as the Vikings did. From their Scandinavian homelands, Vikings sailed east down the great rivers of Russia crossing the Black Sea to Constantinople and the Caspian Sea to reach Baghdad. In the west, Vikings even penetrated the Mediterranean to attack Italy and North Africa. Other Vikings crossed the Atlantic, leaving settlements along the way in the Faeroe Islands, Iceland and Greenland, to become the first Europeans known to have set foot in North America. It is these far-flung connections, and the daring spirit that created them, that give the Vikings their enduring appeal.

Medieval writers used ‘Viking’ specifically to describe someone who went í víking (plundering), that is a pirate, and not necessarily a Scandinavian one at that. The word is thought originally to have meant ‘men of the bays’, perhaps because that is where pirates lurked hoping to ambush an unwary merchant ship. Under the influence of national romanticism, however, ‘Viking’ became a synonym for ‘early medieval Scandinavian’ and the usage has stuck. It was also during this era that Vikings were equipped with their romantically barbaric, but historically inaccurate, horned helmets (the error originated in the mis-identification by early Antiquarians of Bronze Age horned helmets as Viking helmets). The helmets too have stuck in the popular imagination.

Archaeology uncovered evidence of peaceful Viking enterprise in the fields of crafts, trade, exploration and settlement, leading to a more balanced view of their lives.

It became impossible for them to find wives, they would have begun to drift away too, perhaps signing on as crew on the few ships that still came to Greenland. Only those who felt too old to start a new life would have remained and, with the young people gone, the extinction of the colony was just a matter of time. The last outpost of the Viking world may simply have died of old age.

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