WHO Am I?

Let's start at my beginning in an era that most denizens of the twenty-first century know of only from history. The great depression lingered on waiting for World War II. Horses still plodded the fields. Some farmers, including my grandfathers, still planted and harvested crops by hand. My parents earned their living from their country general store at a wide spot in the road that took root along a minor railroad. Almost at the moment Hitler launched World War II, I was born in the living quarters which were a part of that store.

Two gasoline engines in the garage generated electricity to run the meat cooler for the store and provide light. My mother cooked with a kerosene range in summer, and a coal stove in winter. Another coal stove in the dining room provide enough heat to warm that room and the adjoining bed room. At night the warmth ceased. Our only water supply was a flowing well by the back door. It could better be called a trickling well. It took 15 or 20 minutes to fill a pail.

By the time of my earliest memories, my grandfather was nearing 70. He still walked the fields behind his horse drawn implements. He planted corn one hill at a time with a hand planter. First, Grandpa, with someone to assist him, carried a pole with four chains dragging, back and forth across the field to mark where the rows would be planted. At harvest time he cut the corn one hill at a time and put it into shocks to dry. Later, he husked the ears one at a time. All of this, and much more, had to be accomplished between morning and evening milkings. What was it like to put in 12 hours of hard work and still have to milk the cows by hand?

Six years after my birth I walked down a dusty gravel road to the corner schoolhouse nestled in the maples. I joined about 45 other children distributed over nine grades. During four of my first five school years, the teacher and her husband lived in an old gray trailer parked beside the school. Travel trailers and motor homes today exceed the size of that abode. These modern toys also provide amenities that 1940's homes never saw.

In fifth grade the school grew to two rooms. The battle over spending $10,000 to build the second room, and to add such luxuries as inside plumbing, split the community. Fifth grade was my most productive year in school. Up to Christmas I attended school half days because the second room was not completed on schedule. Imagine that, a government project wasn't completed on schedule. Due to the shortage of class time the teacher urged us to proceed at our own pace, rather than waiting for him to catch up in class. This inspired such competition between the students that most of us actually completed our books. In other years the last quarter or more of most of our books only took up space.

After eighth grade I boarded the red, white and blue school bus for the 10 mile ride to high school. About a month later one of the new fangled yellow and black buses replaced the aging patriotic bus. Four years later I graduated near the top of my class. My nine years in the often crowded country school seems not to have stunted my development. The truth is that the interaction between students at different levels stimulated learning. Sixty years later some schools are rediscovering the advantages of abandoning lock step education. Other schools seek only to increase the rigidity.

My interest in math and bridges led me to the civil engineering program at Michigan State University. Long before I graduated I was well aware that I didn't want to be an engineer. Most engineering classes bored me to sleep. I usually managed to wake up long enough to take the exams. On one occasion I made an incredibly ridiculous mistake on an exam. The instructor wrote a note on my paper suggesting that perhaps I was now sleeping in exams too. A couple of years at the Michigan State Highway Department confirmed my feelings about engineering.

While Goldwater campaigned for the presidency, I moved to Ann Arbor and began law school at the University of Michigan. I didn't find law quite as boring as engineering. I stayed awake most of the time and graduated with honors.

After two years practicing with a small firm in Jackson, Michigan and teaching business law, I joined the legal department of one of the nations largest utility companies. It was there I discovered that what some call the practice of law can be as boring as engineering classes. There is a definite advantage to getting paid for boredom rather than paying to be bored. To keep life interesting I bought a farm. For several years I tilled 160 acres in my spare time. Farming is quite compatible with corporate law. Cleaning up after corporate executives involves shoveling the same stuff I cleaned out of box stalls on the farm. The only difference is that corporate officers produce more of it. Still, they are amateurs compared to government bureaucrats.

Before turning to farming to break the boredom, I served as a school board member and president. The final drive to eliminate meaningful local control of schools was under way. The schools were caught in a pincer between the teachers union and absentee government bureaucrats. Those four years were anything but boring.

During my later years at the utility company I took up writing. It was at least as stimulating as farming, and it didn't matter if it rained. Also, the computer broke down far less often than the tractor and combine.

In June of 1991 my employer announced an early retirement program with the qualifying age reduced to include anyone who was 53 by July 1. My birthday is June 30. I squeaked in by one day. Some said it was an omen. It was an opportunity too good to pass up. Two years later "Thoughts, Ramblings and Observations" began its run that is now in its 18^th year (including a one year break).

In the simpler world of horses and one room schools that shaped my younger years, most people worked for a living, and most children lived with a two parent family (one male and one female). Most people were literate. Crime was a non problem compared to now.

The generation that bore the brunt of World War II began to question the traditions and standards by which they were raised. In the '60s their children did more than question. Can anyone doubt that we lost something when we cast aside the old order? Few, if any, know why the old order worked as well as it did. We expanded the rooms of our civilization by tearing out walls. Unfortunately some of those walls were providing essential support for the structure. If we don't mend the fabric of our civilization, our down hill ride is going to have a most unpleasant ending.

I don't claim to have a list of answers. Before answers come questions. So far most of our so called leaders aren't even asking the right questions. My experiences that span the fault line of civilization, provide a vantage point denied to most among us. I seek to call attention to changes good and bad as seen from where I live. It is my desire to share my perspective in the hope that it will help others to obtain a better view of where we are, how we got here, and where we are headed. We all must fan the sparks of imagination and creativity. We must be inspired to break the bonds of myths and shortsightedness that bind us to the toboggan we now ride toward a new Dark Age.

(The above is only slightly edited from the original posted 15 years ago.)