What were they thinking?

Posted on March 5, 2025 by Marty Ryan

This blog was written a little over two years ago as an op-ed. The newspaper to which it was submitted rejected it. Now that the Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives has recommended members of Congress cancel and never reschedule town hall meetings, this essay has more meaning.

The Iowa Capitol Press Association canceled its annual legislative preview forum earlier this week when Iowa Governor Kim Reynolds, House Speaker Pat Grassley, and Iowa Senate Majority Leader Jack Whitver rejected the ICPA’s invitation to participate in the event that has been held over the past twenty years without incident.

The ICPA should have continued to schedule the event without the unreliable Republicans. There is another faction of the Ninetieth General Assembly that has participated in the past – the minority party, otherwise called Democrats.

Canceling the event because the party in power refuses to be confronted by questions that might be tough to answer is ceding power to power. The Republicans win again. At the rate things are going in Iowa we’re about to face the edge of state-run press. There are hints of it already when you read the newspaper and see the media release by the governor’s office the day before printed in toto.

The media has more power than it recognizes. Hold the legislative preview forum with Democratic leadership from each chamber. Surely, they have something to say. Perhaps it’s time to hear the other side, even if it has an extremely small opportunity to have its ideas enacted. Empty chair debates have been going on for at least 100 years.

Burton K. Wheeler, Progressive vice-presidential nominee in 1924 addressed a packed room in Des Moines.

“You people have a right to know how a candidate for President stands on issues, and so far President Coolidge has not told you where he stands on anything… so I am going to call him before you tonight and ask him to take this chair and tell me where he stands.” People in the auditorium began to crane their necks to see if Coolidge really was somewhere on the premises. I pulled a vacant chair and addressed it as though it had an occupant. “President Coolidge,” I began, “tell us where you stand on Prohibition.” I went on with rhetorical questions in this vein, pausing after each for a short period. Then I wound up: “There, my friends, is the usual silence that emanates from the White House.”

There is a possibility that the media may once again be able to question Republicans without relying on media releases. Reporters should wander out into the rotunda and talk to lobbyists, visitors, and anyone else out there. A serious outside-the-box suggestion would be to randomly call a constituent or two, or more, in a legislator’s district to receive an indication of how a lawmaker’s voters feel about the person.

Slowly, like a frog sitting in a pot of cold water, the media in this state is waiting for the pot to boil. Waiting for those in power to determine when they might talk to reporters is not going to happen with the status quo.

Journalists in the ICPA membership should not be afraid that the governor and the legislature might not cooperate with the media if the ICPA extends coverage to those not in power, the minority, certain lobbyists, constituents, and readership.

What’s the worse that happen? Losing selected parking outside the Capitol?

***

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Irritations II

Posted on February 21, 2025 by Marty Ryan

This blog was posted in September of 2019. Supposedly, nothing has changed – NOTHING!

As I get older, I notice that I am becoming one of those old people that I despised as a young boy.  There are several things that piss me off, and I think I should jot them down.  You may be able to empathize.

Drivers

Certain drivers drive me crazy.  Okay, maybe all drivers drive me crazy.  Why am I the only decent automobile driver out there?

The driver that pisses me off more than others is the guy who speeds up in the inner lane to pass me, cuts over to my lane, and slows to a complete stop before making a right turn.  That goes for the guy that makes a left turn when he passed me in the right lane.

In second place is the person who is in front of me at a stop light.  The light turns green and they sit there.  They may be reading a text or email, or just day dreaming.  Honking is almost a self-irritant (I don’t like honking horns, either – especially the Honk, Honk, Honk of a car that is being stolen – never).  The minute the person in front of you takes off, the propulsion is that of a rocket.  You never see them again, until you get to the next stop light.

Third place is the tailgater who finally speeds around you, fingering you as he goes by, and two miles up the road he’s next to you at the same stoplight.  I have been taught not to taunt.  He could have a gun.

This category could be pages, so I have decided to make it part of a series.

Shopping

“Did you find everything you need?”  I often say “no” whether I did or not.  The answer is always an amazing.  “Oh!”  As the clerk continues to scan items.  Many retailers have taught the clerk what to ask, but never gave the minimum wage earner a lesson on what to do if someone answers anything but “yes”.

An occasional bright clerk may call the manager over, or direct you to the courtesy counter.  When you discover that – yes, they are out of that product – the conditioned reply is: “We’ll have it in the morning.”  The next time I get that answer I’m going to have them deliver it to me.  I don’t feel like I have to return to the same store in the morning, spending about a dollar in gas, when I might save 20 cents on the out-of-stock item.  Better yet, I think I’ll tell the manager that I’ll just stop at the competitor’s store down the street and pick it up there.

Grocery stores hire many high school students.  Those students have been taught to converse with the customer.  My desire is for the student-clerk to pay attention to what they are doing.  “That tomato juice is on sale for 79¢.”  “Oh”, she says.  “Is it in the ad?”  I think employees should be required to read the advertisements before their shift starts (and get paid for it) each week the store begins a new week of discounts.  At the least, people working in a department, like meats or produce, should have a comprehensive idea of what is on sale in their respective departments during a given week.

“Do you have big plans for the weekend?”  That question from a teenager was suggested by management to keep up a conversation with the customer.  One of these days I want to respond with: “Well, that depends.  What are you doing on Saturday night?”  I would probably get arrested.

Television Commercials with old songs

It began with a pickup commercial years ago in which Chevy used Bob Segar’s ‘Like a Rock’.  I once liked that song.  Chevy drove it into my brain so much I now despise it.  Applebee’s is using a popular song now.  And Ford is attempting to ruin every Queen song I’ve ever loved – which was all of them.

Lectures with a Q & A

I don’t attend many lectures anymore, and maybe it’s because I get irritated at people who stand up during the Q & A at the end and give a 6-minute description of something that happened in their life to relate to the lecturer’s subject (even though it’s a stretch to make the comparison).  It usually ends by having the lecturer asking if the person standing has a question.  It’s bad enough when the commenter says ‘no’ and sits down or wraps it up.  It’s a 10 on the Pain Scale when the person stumbles over trying to come up with a question.

Overturning the Tables at the Temple

Store managers that allow nonprofit groups to solicit outside the store’s doors should be fired.  I don’t appreciate being greeted by a mob of Girl Scouts asking if I want to buy overpriced cookies.  I lie and tell them that I buy them from my daughter.  So what if my daughter is 40-years-old.  The scouts’ moms are reaching that age.  And aren’t they the cookie pushers with the idea to hassle store customers going in and coming out of the store?

The Knights of Columbus want to give me a Tootsie Roll.  Yeah!  “Here, have a 5 oz. roll of guilt.  It’s free!”  Sure, it is.  If you happen to be Roman Catholic that guilt of turning it down and not contributing will last through your death bed and into the first 4 days of purgatory.

You may like eating the free nibbles at COSTCO and in the grocery stores, but I stay away.  It’s not that I reject free food, it’s the problem of cluttering up the aisle while pretending to think the tiny sample is the greatest thing since sliced bread, even though the sampler doesn’t buy the product. I hate to be one of those aisle cloggers.  I have to get ahead of you in the check out.

What do you like, Marty?

I like kids.  They can make you laugh more than most comedians.

We live next to a licensed day care center.  The facility has about 50 kids, from infants to 12-year-olds.  If you can remember watching the Art Linkletter show back in the 60s, you can relate to what I get almost every day.

Stephanie and I watched a dog overnight for a friend a few weeks ago.  Four or five children came running up to the fence.  “What’s its name?”  They were all asking.  “Zoe,” I said, and kept on walking.  All of the children in the group began yelling, “Bye, doggie!!”

Even though the children can keep me laughing, they can also keep me humble.  One of the teachers suggested the kids say “Hi” to the neighbor.  “Hi, old man!”

Crap.  I’ve become that old man I never wanted to be.

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Not even close

Posted on February 8, 2025 by Marty Ryan

I was reading a book entitled Unidentified Woman #15 by David Housewright [First Down and Out Books June 2020 – Copyright @ 2015].  The featured character, Roosevelt McKenzie, ponders the fact that a Minneapolis Star-Tribune “article dealt more with the manhunt involving eight squads, one ambulance, and one fire truck than the actual shooting.”  About that time, it was barely audible, but I heard the “whoop” of the beginning of a police car’s siren.  Next, I saw the blue and red lights blinking in my window.  I got up off my chair and went to the front door window to see a man down on my neighbor’s yard with two other men hovering over him.

The police cruiser pulled up to the curb and an officer got out of the car and scurried to the scene.  It was across the street, and I had a very good view of what was taking place, but I had no idea what had happened.  Did the guy fall on the ice?  Did he have a heart attack?  All I could see was his back.  He was wearing a white T-shirt, and he was lying on the ground on his left side, his knees bent slightly.

Before it was over, there were seven Des Moines squads, one ambulance, and a paddy wagon.  No firetruck.  So, after reading the passage in the book, I assumed the guy must have committed murder.  Not even close.

Before the first squad pulled up, two men were standing over the person on the ground.  They were not in uniform, so I figured they were good Samaritans.  Not even close.  After reading the Des Moines Police Case Summary Report (PCSR), I discover that the two men were bounty hunters working for a bail bondsman.  They had identified themselves to the police officer as “fugitive recovery agents.”

We sat outside on the stoop watching the action.  Stephanie could hear some of the conversations.  I didn’t have my hearing aids in my ears and couldn’t hear anything.  Police kept shining a light in the suspect’s eyes, and the paramedics from the Des Moines Rescue Ambulance were paying attention, as well.  The PCSR emphasizes that the suspect was pepper sprayed and handcuffed by the two vigilantes.  Both sides indicated so.  He ran a little over a block with his hands cuffed behind his back and pepper spray in his eyes.  He was tackled by one of the bounty hunters.  They were hovering over him like a hunter might stand proudly over his prey.

The presence of police power was overwhelming.  Even though it was an arrogant display of flashing lights and blue uniforms all over the place, the suspect was charged with trespass, interference with official acts, and possession of drug paraphernalia, all simple misdemeanors.  Compare how many squads show up in the inner ring suburb of Little Canada [in Minneapolis] for a murder to how many show up for three simple misdemeanors in Des Moines, Iowa.

Enough of the crying liberal in me.  There are several problems with what we witnessed.  In addition to the descriptions above (wanna-be police, more emergency vehicles and personnel than necessary), I looked into the suspect.  He is a 40-year-old Black male with a history of trespass, interference with official acts, and other misdemeanors.  He has one class “C” felony on his rap sheet, but he served no prison time because of The Pandemic. His only crime this particular night was walking into an apartment building when he was told to stay out.

This past week, we had a double murder occur at the far end of the block. Understandably, there were about seven police patrol cars on the street, along with the fire truck and ambulance. It was obvious from the media release that it was a murder/suicide without actually saying it. Also, the ambulance left the neighborhood without lights or sirens.

The following night, we heard the “whoop” of a police car siren, and saw a vehicle pull to the side of the road [M.L. King Jr. Blvd] about 150 feet from our house. Pretty soon, there were more than seven police cars on the block, not including the paddy wagon. There was no fire truck or ambulance at this scene.

Police had what appeared to be their weapons out, but it was hard to see in the dark. One by one, three young men exited the vehicle with their hands on their heads, walking backwards about 20 feet toward the officers at the rear of the car. Officers handcuffed each of them at the front of the patrol car. We saw an officer pop the trunk and look into it with his flashlight. Another opened the passenger door and shined the flashlight into the interior. Eventually, police vehicles left the street and the driveways until only one was left to watch over the impoundable car until it could be towed.

The following morning, I searched for the cause of the previous night’s entertainment. The driver of the vehicle allegedly “disobeyed a traffic control signal” and began to elude law enforcement. The driver was the only one of three detained for processing at the jail. He was released at 10:00 am the following morning, about twelve hours after being held in the pokey.

Last November, the neighborhood was again inundated with emergency vehicles when a young woman hanged herself in the woods on the other side of the levee.

With all this recent activity, you would think we live in a dangerous neighborhood. That’s debatable. Our neighbors are wonderful, decent, and welcoming residents. Our immediate neighbors represent a melting pot of people from different countries, backgrounds, and cultures. Not one of those incidents mentioned above had anything to do with the people who live in this neighborhood, with the exception of the murder/suicide. Trouble drives, runs, and walks into the neighborhood. Trouble does not exist in this neighborhood; it tends to drift into it.

***

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The Oasis

Posted on February 2, 2025 by Marty Ryan

I got friends in low places
Where the whiskey drowns
And the beer chases my blues away
And I’ll be okay
Yeah, I’m not big on social graces
Think I’ll slip on down to the Oasis

Friends in low places – Garth Brooks

Country music is not my genre, but there are songs that can fit in the Country category and the Rock Category simultaneously. Music by The Marshall Tucker Band comes to mind. But one country song I could not avoid while living in Crawford County, Iowa, was Friends In Low Places.

Long before Garth Brooks recorded one of his most famous songs, the Oasis in Denison, Iowa, was exactly what Brooks described in his song. I have written about this bar previously at https://iowappa.com/?p=1898:

We pulled in the Oasis parking lot (Yes, in Denison, Iowa, there is a bar called the Oasis, and it was there long before Garth Brooks wrote his famous song Friends In Low Places).  Once inside, Homer went to the bar while Norton and I sat at a table in the darkest part of the bar.  Homer came to the table with three beers.  I drank that beer with no problem.  Besides Millie, the bartender, we were the only people in the bar.  Millie is another story for a future blog.

Recently, I discovered that the Oasis has closed “permanently.” The Oasis was along Highway 30 in Denison, and Highway 30 was my route to and from work. I stopped there often on my way home, but never on the way to work. I did encounter a few people who did stop there prior to their work shift, but not me.

If I could describe The Oasis as I knew it in the 1970s through 1980s, I would say it was similar to “Cheers,” but with a country flavor. It had its bartender Coach in Millie. Millie was tending bar when I was served in the 1960s, and she was still there when I left Denison in the early 1990s. There was a joke that when the bar sold, she went with it, like all the fixtures.

One afternoon, Byron, my co-worker, and I got off work early and decided to have a beer. We walked into The Oasis and sat at the bar. We were the only two customers in the establishment at the time. Millie was cleaning the big mirror behind the various bottles of liquor on the backside of the bar. I have never seen anyone clean the same spot over and over and over again like it took her that day. After several minutes, one of us asked (nicely, I should add) if we could get a couple of beers. She didn’t stop cleaning for a second, but said: “Can’t you see I’m busy!” And we waited a few more minutes until she was done cleaning the mirror and put away all her cleaning supplies, washed her hands, placed her hands on her hips and said, “what do you want?” We were regulars. She knew we wanted a can of Pabst and a bottle of Bud Lite. But that was Millie.

We weren’t the only regulars. There was LaDelle and Butch; Jerry and his wife; Marv; Pappi, the owner; Roger; the two businessmen next door; sometimes Chappy; and many more that would make the list go on and on.

One occasional customer would come in on a mid-afternoon and order two Pepsi’s. He pulled out a chair on one side of the square table and walked to the other side where he sat. Millie would bring the two Pepsi’s (after a number of visits she would greet him at the table with two Pepsi’s before he even ordered), and place one in front of him and the other in front of the vacant chair on the opposite side of the table from him. He would continue to talk to the invisible person on the other side of the table, and from time-to-time he could become quite hostile toward his guest. But they never got into a fight.

Late one night, when I was working the night shift, I came in and ordered a beer. I sat down with Gale and visited for the duration of that beer. As I was about to order another, Gale said that I shouldn’t drive home. He would drive my car to Vail and have Pappi pick him up and drive him back to Denison. I never argued. I wonder to this day what made them think I was drunk. It could be that they were used to me coming in around 5:00 pm rather than 10:30 pm. It doesn’t hurt to refrain from arguing with drunks and fools.

When I noticed last month that the Oasis was ‘permanently’ closed, I figured Millie retired and could not be replaced, or she went to that mirror-washing place in paradise. What would Denison’s Oasis be without Millie?

***

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Home Safety

Posted on January 16, 2025 by Stephanie Fawkes-Lee

A young Des Moines police officer who was helping us with a racoon issue hadn’t yet been indoctrinated into how to handle the perception of crime in our neighborhood. He asked us point blank, “Do you hear gun fire at night?” My day starts around 3:00 a.m., so gunfire occurs regularly, sometimes within the neighborhood, but also across the street where a paved trail system winds along a wooded area by the Des Moines River and poaching runs rampant. We have the luxury to lock the doors, pull the blinds, stay away from the windows and stick earbuds in to drown out the potential threat. Others aren’t so fortunate.

At our neighborhood association meeting, the appointed Des Moines community police officer gave an update on recent crime activity. There had been a domestic stabbing and a fatal gang related shooting. Even though both of these tragedies happened only a block away, they were targeted violent deaths. The presentation was delivered to reassure the audience that we needn’t be concerned for our safety or property values. Some didn’t buy into this message. Long-term residents sold their homes to investors to convert into rentals.

Flashing lights greeted us on our walk a short time ago. The usual police car and fire trucks were joined with the coroner and criminal investigation vans. The vehicles were parked at the entrance to the Tai Dam Village, which borders part of the Trestle to Trestle Trail in our neighborhood. Although the vehicles were running, there were no occupants and no way to find out what happened. So, we ordered an incident report from the Des Moines Police Department. 

It stated that a homeless woman was walking in the woods, going to a homeless camp when she noticed a female hanging from a tree. She called the police with someone else’s phone, because she did not have one. 

Officers located the female in the woods hanging from a tree. The female was hanging by her neck with a rope tied to a branch. Medics and ME were called and declared the female deceased. IDENT was called and processed the scene. ME and IDENT didn’t notice anything suspicious about the suicide. ME took possession of the body. The deceased female had no ID on her person and was not able to be identified. 

The incident occurred on 11/04/2024 at 13:51 and the case was closed on 11/05/2024.

The victim was Elizabeth Sue Phillips. According to her obituary, she enjoyed styling hair, going on walks, converting new items out of old ones, and spending time with friends and family, including her children, nieces and nephews. She also left behind a grandchild, “Although she left us too soon, Elizabeth’s memory will live on in the hearts of those who knew and loved her. She will be remembered for her vibrant personality and contagious laughter.”

Given Elizabeth’s hobbies, it made more sense for her to choose a different form of suicide. Hanging is violent. Men prefer it along with fatal gunshots. Women tend to prefer slicing wrists or swallowing a bottle of pills. What wasn’t in the police report was Elizabeth’s activities before her death. 

She had visited a campsite just down the trail from where her body was found. It was one of a number of encampments that lay scattered along the banks of the Des Moines River. Mary, who lives in a tent with her veteran husband and a lovely dog described the events leading up to the hanging. Although they are labeled as homeless camps, these are complex communities of survivors. Mary described how Elizabeth had visited their camp with a known unsavory male character. Food is shared with fellow survivors and that was the first and last time Mary saw Elizabeth. The night before she died, a loud truck was heard driving down the trail in the direction of the hanging tree. Mary and her husband chose to remain in the safety of their tent. Their dog scares away the wild animals that pose a threat. Nothing can protect against the persistent gunfire or an unidentified vehicle that invades their otherwise peaceful existence. Mary carries doubts about the circumstances of Elizabeth’s death. She also understands why members of these closely knit communities may simply give up, tired of living in fear.

The government plays a key role in disrupting their feeling of safety and security. Periodic signs are posted along the trail with maps outlining where and when they will infiltrate and take down these encampments or homes. It’s a Wac-A-Mole game. As one campsite is destroyed, another one pops up. Mary’s campsite is now gone. Although I look for her along the trail on my daily walk, the only thing left is the memory of the pain, fear and resignation that she carries.  

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“I’ve had it!”

Posted on January 10, 2025 by Marty Ryan

Since I was a young boy growing up in west-central Iowa, I have been a fan of several sports. Baseball has always been my favorite, and football has been a close second. Not anymore. After watching the Minnesota Vikings vs. the Detroit Lions football game on NBC last Sunday night, I have made a choice to back away from football.

The officiating was the worst I’ve seen in a professional setting. At times, it was difficult to determine who was making the calls, the men in striped shirts, the replay assist, officials in New York, or bookmakers in Las Vegas.

An obvious penalty of “intentional grounding,” wherein the quarterback just throws the ball out of his hands without a targeted and eligible teammate in the vicinity, was not called because the officials claimed there was an eligible receiver in the area. Not only was a potential receiver not in the immediate area, but the football also bounced off a lineman – an ineligible receiver – and the ensuing penalty would have been “a five-yard penalty and loss of down.” Making the situation worse was the fact that this misdemeanor occurred while the Detroit quarterback was in his own end zone. Had the violation been called correctly, the outcome would have been different, and it would have given the Vikings a fair advantage when they needed it.

The bad calls didn’t end there. Detroit moved the ball close to a first down. The officials called the movement short of a first down and ruled the play was fourth down with inches to go. Somewhere out of nowhere came a ruling that the player with the ball did in fact gain enough yardage to be credited with a first down. The “out of nowhere” was a replay assist. Where in hell was the replay assist in the previous incident? 

In recent years, football broadcasters have had the enjoyment of utilizing retired officials who sit in the booth with them, or are tuned in to the broadcast remotely to comment on questionable calls. During the Vikings-Lions game the official was often critical of the calls, particularly calls of pass interference by the Lions’ defensive players. It was frustrating, especially since Detroit’s coach Don Campbell has in the past indicated that his team would commit violations because the officials couldn’t possibly call a penalty on every one of them.

Howard Cosell, the lawyer/journalist/broadcaster of Monday Night Football on ABC in the 1970s and early 80s and noteworthy fight announcer, said, “I’ve had it,” as he walked away from professional boxing. Cosell made me think about boxing and how brutal it can be. Why do we as a civilized society get excited about two individuals beating the blood out of each other? However, Cosell stopped announcing boxing matches (except those with which he was under contract to announce), because he felt the sport needed reform to instill stronger, stricter safety regulations, a rating system based in integrity and federal oversight.

It seems that football now needs federal oversight, given how gambling interests have permeated the sport. Sports commentators used to pick which team they thought would win the game. Now they pick using gambling jargon, for example point spreads. Advertising during pregame shows and during games heavily promote gambling. With so much gambling money attached to the outcome of these games, corruption should be expected. Maybe it will get so bad that the government will need to intervene, but probably not in my lifetime. 

So, for now, I will continue to cheer for my Chiefs going to yet another Super Bowl and am getting excited for baseball season to begin. Go Royals!

***

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