Decorum (Haiku)

 

Your opinions

Should never be given first

And information  

Peace (Haiku)

 

Sometimes taken out

Hearing aids are optional

For peace and quiet

Saul Kentucky

 

Now let me see, it was July 4th, but I don't recall the exact year.  I could research the logbooks to find it but it really isn't pertinent to the story.  Suffice it to say that it was 1996.  We got up at a decently early hour, about 8 o'clock, and we had the day off.  Our office was closed for the holiday.

"Carola, let's go find Saul." Her reply, "Are you serious?"

It was before GPS; we had a Rand McNally Road Atlas for reference.  We set out for an obscure dot in Perry County, Kentucky. It was a pleasant day, summer, sunny, and not too awfully hot.  We followed the map but then things got a little confusing.  There were no signs that said Saul this way or that, nor indications of how many miles it was to there, nothing in the form of information signs.  So, I pulled into convenient store parking lot.  "Can you tell me how to get to Saul?"

"Go down the road to a big rock, turn left and it's up the road a short piece."

We did, and just after passing two very large, huge, rocks standing alongside the road, I thought, wow! And pulled up into a driveway.  There weren't many houses in the area, so don't think I had a lot of choices, I simply picked the most convenient, parked and went up onto the front porch; knock, knock.

"I'm looking for Saul?"  There was no emotion registered at all.  Completely neutral, she said to the interior of the house, "He's looking for Saul." A man came to the door, stood behind her, and said, "Go back to the road by the big rock and turn right." I said, "Thank you." and left without even trying to start a conversation.

At the road, I turned right and went up the hill.  Not very far up the road was a gas pump and convenience store.  I stopped in front, went in and asked again about Saul.  He said, "This is Saul."   There was nothing to indicate a town of any kind.  So I said, "I'm looking for Iree Bowling."  He said, "Iree lives up in the holler, take the first road on the right and go up about a quarter mile or so." 

I went up the road but must have missed it because there were no roads off to the right.  I pulled up into a driveway and knocked on another door.  A man answered.  I asked him about finding Iree Bowling.  He said go back to the road, head right, then take the road to the left and go about a quarter mile up into the holler.  Then he asked, "Are you in the needy business?  We're needy." I replied," We're not in the needy business anymore."

Off I went, and sho' nuff, there was a dirt lane off to the left.  We turned in and went to an old farmhouse.  I put the car in park and went up to the porch and knocked.

A woman answered and I asked if she knew Iree Bowling.  She said, "I'm her daughter, she's inside in the bed." I said, "How do you do? There's someone I'd like you to meet."  I waved to Carola, who was still in the car and motioned for her to come on up.  I introduced us to Iree and started to explain, showing her some letters.

She was amazed.  Carola had seen an article in a 1967 Sunday Parade magazine newspaper insert about Saul Kentucky and that the people there needed children's clothes.  She proceeded to find the source of the article, contacted him and he gave her the name and mailing address of Iree Bowling.  What followed was a lot of packages of clothes for kids, toys, and books.  Iree was good about thanking her for the help and wrote letters appreciating the goodness.

Iree's daughter took Carola into the house and to Iree's bedside, where they made their acquaintances.  I sat on at the porch outside with the son-in-law, Bascom.  He was about my age.  We told each other jokes.  Surprisingly enough, each of us had heard the other's jokes before.  That was amusing to both of us.

Iree's daughter, whose name escapes me, told us of a television crew that came through and recorded a documentary about them.  It was one of the Kennedy family’s daughters.  I'm talking the John F and Robert Kennedys here.  As a follow-up, when we got back to Louisville, I looked for it and found the book, American Hollow.  The book deals with the difficulty of getting out of the hollow.

We spent the entire afternoon there.  Talking about lots of different things, Iree's daughter showed us quilts she'd made.  There was also a curious arrangement of chairs in the yard.  They were set in an irregular line, not quite a semicircle, and although they were empty, I could tell they were used by gatherings of friends, probably to sing gospel music.  I had a vision of them filled with people, singing their hearts out.

We left Saul and made our way back to Louisville and were home before dark.  Carola felt somewhat fulfilled by the trip to Saul.  I didn't realize it at the time, but she continued the practice that her mother had, of sending care packages.  Rose, Carola's mother, regularly sent packages of essentials and little luxuries to her family after the devastation of Germany during WWII.  Like Iree's family, Rose's family never forgot the kindness.

Credo (Haiku)

 

In what I believe

Is not important to you

Important for me

And what I believe

Changes with experience

Hopefully improves

Respect (Haiku)

When one knows the rules

Then follows and abides them

 It is called respect

Time (Haiku)

 Time can be defined:

The passing of the present.

Measured as you will.

The Force (Haiku)

 

Imagination

The source of human power

Ideas from it

Imagination

From inspiration to fact

The force be with you

The Decline of St. Louis

There was a progression associated with St. Louis.  People from less fortunate circumstances came to St. Louis to get jobs.  These jobs were in manufacturing enterprises that were numerous there.  Whole families worked in the same company because the HR people knew that they were good workers.

They came from smaller towns in the region and even from foreign countries, because this was where the opportunities were.  As life progressed, some rose in the ranks of the company, or found better jobs in other companies.  They received higher wages and found a place in the newer developments, in the city at first and then in the county.  They left the older houses and neighborhoods behind as they were "movin' on up."

Their vacancies were filled by others who came to take the jobs that were opening because of promotions and turnover.  These newcomers came to reside in the houses that others left, and were more affordable, in the older neighborhoods.

Then they moved on, and a new wave came in.  This cycle was repeating continuously until the jobs went away.  It could have been "globalization" as in the NAFTA, where jobs went to Mexico, China, and other parts of the world.  Manufacturing moved away.  The waves of people stopped coming for work. Now they came for welfare.

Complicit in this scenario are the demands of the workers via their unions.  Higher wages and labor cost made the decision to relocate manufacturing easy to make. Why would I incur the higher cost of labor in St. Louis when I could relocate the work to areas that had significantly lower cost? 

The situation was obscured by the higher paying jobs that the better educated workforce could perform.  The bar was set too high for the entry-level manufacturers.  Older, lower rent houses and areas went without tenants, were not maintained, and became uninhabitable.

At first the void was filled by the welfare seekers, but eventually they, too, vacated the area.  So, now there are about 25,000 vacant lots and houses, and a large number of others on which structures nearing collapse are located.  The stream of new occupants dwindled away.

Could it be possible that the President's tariffs are a way of turning the tide back to where manufacturing will once again be a "draw" for people to come to St. Louis, build or rehabilitate houses that are affordable for working people to get started up the ladder. I say St. Louis but it could be true for all the rust-belt cities in the country, especially those North and East of St. Louis.

Blast from the Past

Just now, sitting here in my recliner, working the AM Sudoku puzzle, into my mind flooded a memory.  It was 8500 Oriole Avenue, Saint Louis, in the early summer. A motorcycle policeman was sitting on his cycle, in the street, off to the side in the shade of our sycamore tree.  

He was big, in uniform, with the addition of black shiny, leather leg protectors that covered his legs from the knees to the ankles.  They had silver buckles on adjusting straps at the top and bottom.

Several of us kids, we were all little, maybe 4 or 5 years old, gathered in a bunch around him.  We may have been asking him questions.  I think we must have been intrigued with this apparition, which none of us had seen before.

He remained there a while, observing the intersection.  Then, probably due to a lack of action, he kick-started his motorcycle and left.  We were impressed.  That was 80 plus years later, never before recalled.