No Comprendo!

Posted on March 17, 2024 by Marty Ryan

“Get your number two pencils out. Nothing else, just your number two pencils.” At that point the nun teaching the class would go to the child who was never prepared for anything and take away his ink pen, or other pencil, or other writing instrument that was unauthorized to complete the Iowa Test of Basic Skills [ITBS] ‘score card.’ Sharpies had not been invented, yet.

Most students in Iowa, and across the nation might be familiar with the ITBS. “The ITBS tests are designed for kindergarten through 8th grade students and include nine themes: vocabulary, word analysis, listening, reading comprehension, language, math, social studies, science, and sources of information.”

I can remember Sister Williametta being very proud of me that I scored in the ninety-ninth percentile of the social studies category, and above ninety in every other category – except reading comprehension. My scores on reading comprehension were in the thirties. As of this day, I can’t imagine how that could happen. But I have a theory.

In order to complete the math questions about a train leaving Philadelphia at 3:00 pm traveling west at 50 mph, and a train leaving St. Louis at 5:00 pm traveling east at 40 mph, etc., you have to comprehend what the question is seeking and produce the correct answer. I aced those questions that require some comprehension. So why did I not do well in comprehension?

The New York Times recently posted a few new questions of the recently revised SAT exam. It’s all digital now. I got around SAT testing by taking a class here, a college class there, and a college class in between. When it came time for entrance exam it was obvious that I could achieve at the college level. So, I accepted the challenge to try a few questions on the part of the exam that the NY Times provided. I failed comprehension.

There have been people who insist that I may have ADHD, ADD, or obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). I have never been diagnosed with any of the mental deficiencies, but I probably have or still experience symptoms of each. Although I am not a behavioral health professional [thank God], I do believe the low scores on comprehension have something to do with one or more of those three mental disorders. So what? I manage to enjoy life.

Give me something challenging that doesn’t have to do with mechanical tinkering and I will try to work on it, like the trains above. But comprehend some boring story in which I’m given a sentence or two. Forget it. Boring! Often, I can see where two answers appear to be the same.

I haven’t changed much since 7th grade. Oh, I can comprehend what I write, or read a book and comprehend the storyline. However, I continue to procrastinate, get lost in thoughts, and move to a different task before finishing another.

By the way, if you think the answer to the train question is Indianapolis, you could be correct. But I would need more information, such as: how many stops did each train make? Each must have had to switch crews, refuel, wait for a coal train (coal trains have priority), or switch boxcars on a siding before reaching their respective destination. I always thought of those possibilities.

Don’t think too much. And “get that eraser out of your mouth!”

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Garbage Day

Posted on March 11, 2024 by Stephanie Fawkes-Lee

National Football League quarterback Kirk Cousins is leaving the Minnesota Vikings after signing a contract with the Atlanta Falcons for 4-years and $180 million dollars with $100 million of it guaranteed. It’s quite a contract. He had stated earlier in the year that the money wasn’t important to him, he had enough money. I mistook him to mean he possessed a loyalty to the team and the players.

Loyalty, like integrity, is a thing of the past. I realized the slow death of these outdated values almost thirty years ago when the garbage removal company called and sent threatening letters to me about a nonexistent garbage bin after I sold my home in Plymouth, Minnesota. At that time, garbage removal was done by private contractors. We and many of our neighbors contracted with Randy’s Sanitation. A competitor offered the neighborhood 3 weeks of free garbage removal along with a new blue garbage bin that rolled to the curb. My neighbors all took the bait and the neighborhood was soon littered with shiny new bins on garbage day. Now Randy’s was a family-owned business who had given us excellent service, so I remained loyal to them and learned to live with my old, beat-up, store-bought bin that I dragged to the end of the driveway come rain, snow or dark of night.

Time passed and Randy’s decided to fight back and wooed some of my neighbors back with their own shiny brown garbage bins that rolled to the curb. Since I was already a customer, the new bin was never offered to me. This didn’t bother me, but it took far too long to convince Randy’s that I wasn’t moving away with one of their promotional bins, I had simply been a loyal and clearly unappreciated customer.

Maybe loyalty just isn’t sexy when compared to the seven deadly sins. Lust, gluttony, sloth, wrath, envy, pride and greed are even enjoyable to say. You can really sink your teeth into enunciating them versus the drab loyalty and integrity. So, I understand Cousins forfeiting loyalty and giving into greed. It’s so very tempting.

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A Retired Ritual

Posted on March 7, 2024 by Marty Ryan

Some traditions vanish before you think to tell your children about them. On the other hand, I doubt very much that my children or grandchildren would be interested in hearing about the anachronistic ritual of a chivaree. [Alteration of the French word charivari, with a Latin root meaning “headache.”]

I participated in one chivaree, or shivaree as it’s spelled in some backwater regions of the country. I barely remember it. Mom got a few of us kids and passed out pots, pans, kettles, or anything metal along with a metal spoon, and herded us two blocks south to a basement house. We banged on those metal kitchen cookware instruments as loud as we could. I must have been very young because I don’t remember who the newly-wed couple was.

What I do remember is that the couple who were being serenaded by our racket were just married, and mom called it a chivaree. That is the first and last time I was ever involved in such a ritualistic, yet enthralling, activity.

A chivaree was a traditional custom in the Midwest, the hills of the Carolinas, and parts of New England in the 19th century, and it continued into the first part of the 20th century. I may have attended the final chivaree in the early 1950s.

“Shivaree is defined as ‘a loud and purposely frightening community party, forced upon newlyweds a short time after their wedding.’” It often took place around midnight, or at least after dark, and besides the banging of pots and pans, guns were fired into the air and people pounded on the windows. The one I attended was in the evening, probably right after the sun set and there were no guns.

The couple subjected to the chivaree are expected to invite all the revelers in for alcoholic drinks and candy for the kids. I don’t recall getting any candy, but I can guarantee that the adults with us kids that night partied hardy, while the kids were sent home.

Depending upon where you lived a chivaree might be called “bellings,” “hornings,” or “serenades.” But the tradition is similar in all instances.

I can’t imagine you could successfully chivaree some couple in today’s world. Try that in a suburban atmosphere. We already know that the activity in an urban area would have you in handcuffs before the couple could make it to the door to ask you to keep it down. If everyone in a small town was in on the secret, it might work out, but I wouldn’t count on it.

“The merits of a shivaree were numerous. Everyone in the community participated-young and old, male and female. The newlyweds certainly met their neighbors in a friendly if raucous manner and were, in turn, properly initiated into the community. Another important feature of the custom was the collective good cheer and feeling of community everyone shared.”

The ritual often began a little after the happy couple had turned off the lights on their wedding night, or shortly thereafter.

Considering all the old-time rituals that have died out through the years, I’m glad that this one disappeared. Or did it.

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First Book Report in 60 Years

Posted on February 28, 2024 by Marty Ryan

Book reports are something for grade school students, specifically seventh and eighth-graders. The last book report I probably wrote was about a book that I thoroughly enjoyed. I had checked a book out of the St. Ann’s Grade School library that was a true story about a physician who helped a man heal his stomach wound, the result of an accidental shooting that put a hole in the victim’s stomach. The descriptive images within that book remain within the parameters of my memory, although slightly askew. Nonetheless, this is my stab at a book report since grade school.

TITLE: The Fisherman

AUTHOR: John Langan. Langan lives with his wife, children and pets in the Hudson River Valley, east of the Catskill Mountains.

PUBLICATION DATE: June 30, 2016

Written in the first person, The Fisherman is a story within a story.

Abe is an employee of IBM in Poughkeepsie, NY. He had a wonderful but brief marriage to Marie. She developed cancer and died. Overcome with grief, Abe takes up fishing. The sport leads him to several locations throughout the Middle Hudson River area, particularly around Woodstock and the Ashokan Reservoir.

A coworker of Abe, Dan, experienced a terrible tragedy when his wife and two sons were killed in an accident at an intersection without a traffic light. Although a traffic light was installed after the crash, Dan continued to sit at the intersection and stare at the scene where the accident occurred.

Abe invites Dan to go fishing with him, thinking that the experience may help Dan in the same way it helped him. He didn’t think Dan would take him up on the offer, but to his surprise, Dan readily accepted the invitation. After fishing the usual places in the area, Dan said that he wanted to try their luck at Dutchman’s Creek, a rather obscure fleck on the map.

On a rainy Saturday morning they ventured out to fish in the creek. They stopped at a diner and had breakfast. Howard, the diner’s owner, came out to refill coffee cups and struck up a conversation with them. He told the story of Dutchman’s Creek as it was told to him by a woman who lived through an eerie era of the building of the Ashokan Reservoir in the early 1900s. The story within the story as it was told to Howard was about the horror and troubles surrounding the labor camps, especially as it pertained to a man known as Der Fisher.

There is something strange about Dutchman’s Creek, and it all pertains to the story Howard related to Abe and Dan. The creek has magical elements, and while Dan is taken in, Abe maintains his wits, even with extreme difficulty.

When Gregg gave me this book for Christmas, I was skeptical. However, the writing is superb, the story – both of them – is thrilling, and the genre is similar to Stephen King and Dean Koontz, but at the same time, different. It’s a dark thriller.

Laird Barron, author of X’s for Eyes, says the “The Fisherman is an epic, yet intimate, horror novel. . .. What you get is A River Runs Through It . . . Straight to hell.” I could not top that description.

John Langan’s descriptive writing gives your imagination free reign to feel the action and see the events as they occur. You can believe you are a part of the story – both of them.

***

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By the dawn’s early light

Posted on February 19, 2024 by Marty Ryan

The Iowa Legislature is often a source of frustration and agony for many who follow the process, and particularly for those involved in the process. But it can also be a source of great entertainment as long as you don’t take things too seriously.

For instance, a bill that addresses persons selected by the general assembly to represent Iowa at the “convention called by the United States Congress to propose amendments to the United States Constitution” in accordance with Article V, has begun to move in the House Committee on State Government. Last year, the bill was moved out of committee but failed to be debated on the floor of the House. What is strange about this bill is that one of the lobbyists is Rick Santorum. Yes! That Rick Santorum, representing the Convention of States Action, has declared in support of the bill. On the other end of the lobbying spectrum, declared against passage of the bill, is the Iowa Minutemen Civil Defense Corp, in addition to the Iowa Chapter of the Sierra Club. Strange bedfellows, indeed.

The so-called purpose of the Article V convention is to take power away from the federal government and give more control to the states and local government. Speaking of local control, this general assembly has been pretty consistent in its efforts to squash local control. Amendments to Iowa’s Constitution, Amendment Twenty-Five (municipal home rule adopted in the 1960s) and Amendment Thirty-Seven (county home rule adopted in the late 1970s) have been ignored in several bills, one of which is a bill to reinstate the death penalty.

Supposedly, assuming that county attorneys in Iowa’s largest counties are affiliated with the Democratic Party, Senate Study Bill 3085, a bill reestablishing the death penalty in Iowa, provides that “when in the attorney general’s judgment, the interest of the state requires the attorney general to intervene on behalf of the county attorney,” the attorney general will prosecute the case, but there is no mention in the bill that the attorney general, or even the state, will assume the costs of the prosecution. The expense will remain the responsibility of the county. The hypocrisy in this Legislature is immense.

Upon having several laws questioned as to their constitutionality, some legislators have filed amicus curiae (friend of the court) briefs in certain lawsuits to defend their legislation actions, or reactions. There is a system of checks and balances involved in our three separate and distinct divisions of government, but the judicial branch is considered the little sister who needs guidance in the eyes of legislators “who make the law.” There is a study bill that would require a plaintiff to provide “notice to the general assembly in actions regarding the constitutionality of a statute.”

You can understand why the general assembly wants to be aware of lawsuits challenging the constitutionality of laws made by the lawmakers. The Iowa and U.S. Constitutions get in the way of the Ten Commandments. A bill that would require public school students to sing at least one verse of the National Anthem every day, study the anthem, and the history of it, had a discussion by a subcommittee. It may not see the light of day, or if you prefer, the dawn’s early light, but it doesn’t apply to private school students. They have the First Commandment.

And now that your attention is tuned in to religion, a subcommittee meeting was held on the definition of “woman.” Although the chairperson of the meeting was mum on the purpose for this necessary description in Iowa law (“Woman” means an adult female human), a woman at the meeting said that “God has made the definition of a woman clear through both special relations, scripture, and general revelation creation.” Amber Williams, an Iowa resident said “He made her, then made him. Male and female, he created them.” Obviously, Ms. Williams has not consulted the biblical Book of Genesis where God made man first and called him Adam, and then made woman from Adam’s rib.

Staying on the subject of religion, students must need religious guidance, and just about anyone will justify this need. A bill that passed out of a subcommittee would allow schools to employ without salary or remuneration a chaplain (not to be confused with Charlie Chaplin, who would seem to be a better alternative – kids need humor, too). The chaplain does not need to “have a license, endorsement, certification, authorization or statement of recognition issued by the board of educational examiners.” But if you’re thinking that this would be some sort of cool job where you could dress in black and talk to students freely, beware. The position does require a background check.

The amusement and entertainment provided by the Iowa Legislature is free of charge to watch. If the governor is not speaking, seats are available without reservations. The cost of this enjoyment comes when you check your rights at the basement door.

***

This article first appeared in the February 2024 issue of the Prairie Progressive. The Prairie Progressive is Iowa’s oldest progressive newsletter, founded by Jeff Cox in 1986.
It is funded entirely by subscriptions from our readers. Editor: Dave Leshtz.

$15 for a 1-year subscription. Order form on the link above.

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The Grace of God

Posted on February 13, 2024 by Marty Ryan

The Des Moines River flows about a third of a mile east of our house. Between the house and the river is a street, a recreational trail, and a levee. On the other side of the levee is a housing development. Well, not really. There are several homeless camps up and down the river, and by my estimate the population of homeless residents is growing at an exponential rate.

We walk on that recreational trail as much as possible. Stephanie will walk between two and six miles a day, and I’ll walk two miles three to five times a week. Sometimes we walk the first mile together; sometimes we don’t. After the first mile, homeless camps are nonexistent.

Walking together on a very nice day last week, we noticed a pile of what appeared to be trash along the trail. I jokingly told Stephanie I was going to rummage through it and see what I could find that we might be able to use. I didn’t see Stephanie’s eyes, but I’m sure they were rolling.

I turned around at the one-mile marker to complete the two-mile circuit while Stephanie went on to cover a few more miles. When I approached the pile of “stuff” along the way back there were two people standing around it. The man was loading things up in a wheeled cart that resembled a modified garbage cart. The woman, in pajama bottoms, an open coat that seemed buttonless, and rings coming out of her nose, mouth, lip, ears, and maybe other places I couldn’t see, hollered at their dog who was coming out to greet me.

“She won’t hurt you!” The woman let me know that the dog’s bark was way fiercer than its bite. The white mixed-terrier was carefully checking me out and moving around in a circle seeking my backside. The woman came closer and picked up the dog. I set my fist out for the dog to smell, and we became friends instantly. The woman began talking about the dog and then dogs in general and I thought she was going to pull out a PowerPoint from the trash to go along with her presentation. I had to interrupt her.

“Is that ‘stuff’ yours?” I asked. She told me it was, so I asked the inevitable: “Are you moving.” Again, I was correct. I didn’t find out where they were moving to or from, but I assumed they had been ejected from the land owned by the Tai Dam Village. The Village is owned by the immigrants that were welcomed to Iowa by the late former Governor Bob Ray. The land north of our neighborhood was purchased by the Tai Dam People[1] because it reminded them of their homeland.

One indication that led me to believe they were kicked off the property was the new addition of “No Trespassing” signs displayed along the western edge of the trail. The eastern side of the trail is managed by the Army Corp of Engineers, Rock Island Regulatory District. Both sides of the trail have adequate forest that provides some shelter from the elements for homeless residents.

The homeless camps off the trail north of our home appear to be extremely secluded and neat, compared to the homeless camps off the trail south of our home. The southern camps are littered with trash, often strewn about in an area that could consume half of an acre. The homeless are not scary per se, and most keep to themselves. Those living north of us will often nod or say hello. Those living south seem to be more reserved, and if you say anything at all to them, they seem to hurry off.

An intersection south of us is a busy one, with two main thoroughfares of the city meeting. Most days you will find at least one person standing on the median with a cardboard sign informing you that they are homeless. Sometimes they will indicate that they are a veteran, “anything will help,” and “God Bless.” During peak hours of the day, you may see three people panhandling at a position on all three medians.

It’s a sad world, but many of them appear to be reasonably content. However, the evidence of depression is overwhelming. You’ll notice that sleeping is the way of life. When you do spot someone outside their tent, or cardboard house, every possession they own is stuffed into a bicycle baby trailer being towed by a bicycle; an act to indicate that they trust no one! It’s the one reason they are not willing to spend the night in a shelter.

What’s the point here? Homeless people are criticized by ‘normal people’ who basically don’t understand why someone would want to sleep in a tent in the woods when the temperatures are below freezing, and in some cases, below zero. Why don’t they get a job?

Many homeless people do not want interference from the outside. Mental health, physical health, and the lack of financial stability are factors that keep these campers from socializing with the rest of us. Authority and authority figures may be frowned upon, but those I have come in contact with have some of the most respect for just about anyone who communicates with them, and doesn’t shame them with indignity, police included.

My religious upbringing has brought me to accept them for what they are. “For I was hungry and you gave Me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave Me something to drink, I was a stranger and you took Me in.” I’m not going to take a stranger in, but I really am beginning to see the homeless as a real part of human life.

“But for the grace of God, go I.”

[1] In 1975, when the Communists took over Laos, the Tai Dam fled to Thailand to seek asylum.  From Thailand, 12,000 Tai Dam were resettled in France, Canada, Australia, and the United States.

Led and encouraged by Governor Robert D. Ray, the citizens of Iowa sponsored 1500 Tai Dam as refugees in 1975-76.  Since then, our population in the United States has grown to 10,000.  Eighty percent of us remain united in the state of Iowa.  https://www.taistudiescenter.org/tai-dam/

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