We Need Vince Lombardi in our School System

This is a modification of a rant I published a few years ago

A bit far fetched, but here is a thought. One of the reasons education in America is falling behind is that children are no longer driven to succeed, but rather just to pass. They are taught to pass tests, not necessarily to learn. They are shown over and over that just passing is enough. They now graduate from each level of school from kindergarten to college in the somewhat misdirected theory that, because so many will not graduate from college or high school, they are graduated from middle school to show they have accomplished something. Kids are given trophies for participating, not excelling. Score isn't kept in little kids' games because we don't want them to dote on winning.

Mediocrity is seen as the goal.  The goal we are teaching isn't to be the best you can be, but only be good enough to get the prize - that's my definition of mediocrity."

If Coach Vince Lombardi was running NASCAR, the standings after last Sunday's race in Arizona would be:

1. Brad Keselowski with 6 wins

2. Joey Logano  5 wins

3. Kevin Harvick 4 wins

    Jeff Gordon 4 wins

    Dale Earnhardt 4 wins

    Jimmie Johnson 4 wins

4. Carl Edwards 2 wins

5. Six drivers, each with 1 win

6.  Ryan Newman, and 5 other drivers without a win all season

Instead, NASCAR in all its wisdom, gives points for so many different things that Lombardi's philosophy of "Winning isn't everything, it's the only thing" goes completely out the window.

Here's the current NASCAR standings:

1.  Denny Hamlin who only scored one win all season

2.  Joey Logano with 5 wins

3.  Ryan Newman with absolutely no wins all season

4.  Kevin Harvick with 4 wins

Note:  While all the other drivers will be on the starting grid for the final race, only the top four are competing for the season championship.  No wonder our kids aren't driven to succeed.  Keselowski, the driver with the most wins isn't eligible for the championship while Newman, without a win on his record all year is in third place and could conceivably win it all.    "See kiddies, if you play safe and finish well you, too, can become rich and famous. Don't worry about winning, that's too risky."

Ode to Joy

In the 1970's, I spent three years in Berlin, behind the Iron Curtain. Berlin was more or less an island, surrounded by a wall, insulated from those who would live free but who lived where they could not. I took this photograph in 1977, mostly because I was perplexed at the difference in dates. I figured Herr Urban was a victim of the wall, but that those who put up the signs didn't really know when he died.



The story is well known in Berlin. Herr Urban lived with his wife on Bernauer Strasse on the line between East and West Berlin. In August of 1961, the East Berlin authorities began construction on a wall and fences to prevent residents of the East from moving across town, or, as in Urban's case, across the street, to the West. Urban and his wife were frightened at the prospect of living in the socialist German Democratic Republic, so on August 19th, they rigged a rope at the window of their second floor apartment and used it to lower themselves to the street and freedom. Both fell, were injured, and were taken to the hospital in West Berlin. Unfortunately, Herr Urban contracted pneumonia and died in the hospital, but he died on September 9, 1961, having lived in freedom less than a month.

There are many, many more stories of those who perished while trying to escape, as well as even more who escaped successfully.   We who live in a free country, cannot possibly imagine what it would take to drive a person to leave his home, escape if you will, because freedom there is no longer a possibility.

In November, 2014, the free city of Berlin celebrated the 25th anniversary of the wall coming down. Angela Merkel, the Chancellor of Germany, who, though born in the west, was raised in East Germany presided over the ceremony, and the Berlin Staatskapelle Orchestra played "Ode to Joy" from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, which, until researching for facts just this evening, I did not know is the anthem of the European Union.

Ode to Joy.  A song dedicated to happiness.  The freedom which we take for granted in our country has been such a strong magnet to those who do not have it that they would risk life and limb to get it. 

Ode to Joy.  Amazing.

Open Letter to President Obama and the Joint Chiefs of Staff

President Obama, General Dempsey, General Odierno, General Dunford, Admiral Greeniert, General Welsh, General Grass

Gentlemen, I am not blessed with a law degree, I did not graduate from Annapolis, West Point or the Air Force Academy.  I have not attended any of the war colleges.  The highest military school I attended was the USAF Senior NCO Academy nearly thirty years ago.

I am blessed, however, with a view of history that appears to be unique, at least compared to you who lead our nation's military.

I remember WWII, vaguely to be sure, but there are certain things that are vivid.   I remember living in a tenement near my father's job in the war industry.  I remember my parents using coupons to buy certain foodstuffs, gasoline, tires, and nylon stockings.   I remember the sighs of happiness when victory was announced over Germany and Japan.

I remember Korea only slightly better, but the lack of a victory meant no happiness except for those Soldiers, Sailors, Marines and Airmen who came home.  Now, nearly sixty years after the declared truce, we still maintain an enormous military presence on the Korean peninsula lest the North Koreans decide to resume the battle.

I distinctly remember Vietnam.  I spent a year there maintaining tactical radars and dodging incoming artillery, mortars, and rockets.  Our role in Vietnam was said to be designed to prevent a communist takeover of South Vietnam, but when we declared peace in 1973 and pulled our troops out, the North Vietnamese were victorious in less than two years.

I certainly remember the first Gulf War that we were on the verge of winning when suddenly we declared victory and came home, leaving Saddam Hussein in power in Iraq in 1991.

The Iraq war is also clear in my memory.  We went after Saddam Hussein in the aftermath of the 911 attacks, ostensibly because he was still maintaining a considerable stockpile of "weapons of mass destruction," which, for some reason, the national press took to mean only nuclear weapons despite the 1988 slaughter of thousands of Kurds with chemical weapons.  Hussein was pulled out of a hole in the ground, tried by an Iraqi court, convicted and hanged.  The war dragged on and finally the President pulled our troops out, or perhaps they just came home on their own, as he seems to be wavering on what role he really played.

The war in Afghanistan dragged on from 2001 until 2013.  While Osama Ben Laden was killed, beheading the Taliban did little to stop them from continuing to wage war, but in 2013, we pulled out our army.  Just recently, our marines were pulled out.  The war in Afghanistan is still active and the Taliban is still a force.

So I remember a little about WWII and Korea and substantially more about other wars in which American forces have been deployed.  We, and that includes our allies, won WWII, but it was a hard-fought battle in which the resources of this great nation were put to work to defeat our enemies.  Manufacturing, agriculture, and petroleum products were limited to the population in order to win that great war.  We went after the enemy in several major campaigns, North Africa, Italy, France, and Germany in the west, and across the Pacific aiming for Japan in the east.

Since the end of that great war, we have bombed our enemies from the skies and fought them in places like the Chosin Reservoir, the Pusan Perimeter, Inchon, Ia Drang, Khe Sanh, Hue, Baghdad, Mosul, Najaf, Kabul, Kandahar, and Tora Bora.   With the exception of those locations in South Korea that we are still protecting 60 years later, every single one of these places is either under the control of our former enemies, or in increasing danger.

What is different?  In WWII, we had objectives and when those objectives were met, we didn't pull out and let the enemy back in, we held on.  Then we set new objectives, met them, and so on until Germany and Japan capitulated.  Even then we didn't pull out and come home.  We stayed and helped our former enemies build new nations.  In this huge war, the American people were tasked to participate.  They were subjected to rationing like has never been seen since.

In all the other wars, the American people were only aware of hardship if one of their family participated in the war.  The home front did not exist.

If we want to clear the world if ISIS/ISIL, now is the time now to recognize the need to wage war as we did in WWII.  Establish objectives.  Establish beachheads on the Persian Gulf, the Red Sea and the Mediterranean Sea and enter the Middle East with enough power to annihilate ISIS/ISIL and don't stop until they no longer exist.  Yes, there will be an enormous losses of civilian and military.

The longer you wait, the harder the job will be.  Remember the Nazis?  If we had intervened in 1938 with the power that we used in 1944, the war would have been over much faster.  If we wait another four years like we did in Europe, the ISIS/ISIL forces will be that much harder to defeat.

Most important, you must have the full participation of the American people.  Steel and petroleum must be directed towards the war effort.  Agriculture must be used to support the war effort.  Shipping and other transportation must be used in the war effort.  In short, you must create a home front as was created to win WWII.

Remembering Swede

In July of 1968, I returned from Vietnam with an assignment to go to Fortuna Air Force Station, North Dakota. My family and I drove a circuitous route from Denver through Kansas, Nebraska, Iowa, and South Dakota, then up through western North Dakota, arriving in the village of Fortuna on a Thursday afternoon. We got a room at Lee's Motel, and in the morning, I went out to the radar base to sign in and find out about housing. We were in luck. A house in town was coming available the next Wednesday. I took it, sight unseen.

On Saturday, I took some letters up to the post office to mail. The postmaster, a friendly sort of fellow, stuck his hand out through the little window and said, "I hear we are going to be neighbors. I'm Swede Benson."

I didn't know it at the time, but that friendly grin would stick with me for many years to come. He told me about Fortuna, and what living was like in that part of the world. As I got ready to leave, he stopped me and said, "When your movers come, take your kids across the street to my daughter. She'll watch them while you get moved in."

Back at the motel, I told my wife what he'd said and we both agreed that it would be better not to take Shannon and John to a total stranger, but on Wednesday, the moving truck was there before nine o'clock and about 9:30, a tall pretty teenager walked into the yard and said, "Hi. I'm Diane. I'll keep your kids while you get settled." Not only did she keep them all day, she kept them that night as well.

Later that fall, my pay got screwed up and I wasn't going to get a real paycheck for six weeks or so. One Saturday, Swede came across the street and asked if he could talk to me outside. He told me he knew we were having some trouble, so he'd made credit arrangements for us at the gas station and the grocery store. Then he said, "I've got a little money set aside. I can let you have $500 if you need it."

A man I'd known for two months or so was making an offer like that.

We managed to get through our monetary woes without making use of the credit or having to borrow Swede's money, but I never forgot the offer.

My son John was four years old when we met the Bensons. Little, white haired, and cocky, he and Swede really hit it off. John was proud to say his name in full, John Francis McNamara the Second, and he'd introduce himself that way to everyone he'd meet.

When my marriage broke up, Swede asked me to join them in the Fortuna AFS mixed doubles bowling league. I reminded him that I no longer had a wife, he said that Diane would be the fourth. We ended up in first place in the the league.

Swede put my on his curling team and taught me the rudiments of the game. I was doing pretty well until my knee went out on me and I had to quit. As I am writing this, I'm recuperating from surgery on that very same knee, some forty-six years later.

Swede took me golfing once - at Dr Mainprize Park in Saskatchewan. It was he, Don, Red Wilson, and me. It was the only time I've ever played the game.

I left Fortuna in 1970, but in 1972, I returned to North Dakota for a second Peace Garden State tour, this time at the radar station near Max, south of Minot. One summer day, I decided to revisit Fortuna. I drove straight to the Benson home only to find them loading in the car to go on a trip. We chatted for a while, and then they left and I drove out to the base, then back to town to Doug and Bonnie Grote's Roam Inn where I saw some friends.

I never did get back to Fortuna and moved on with my Air Force career, but I carried fond memories of Swede, Stella, Don, Diane, Joel, Rich and Mary and mentioned them often when I'd get to talking about North Dakota.   

One day in the 1990's, I Googled Fortuna, ND and got a hit on the Fortuna Curling Club. I sent them a note and got a response from someone who said his mother thought she remembered my name and that he'd see if anyone else knew me. A short time later, I got an e-mail from Diane saying "Hi, old friend." Later that year she and a friend and their daughters and their friends visited Washington, DC. I lived in suburban Maryland at the time, so I met them for dinner one night. It was Easter and the places I knew in the vicinity of their hotel were all closed, but we finally found a sports bar open. Heck of a place to take teenage girls, but they seemed to have a good time.

In 2005, my wife and I drove from Georgia to Fortuna for an Air Force reunion. At the picnic in the little park, I spotted Stella, so I stopped her. She knew me, but when we went up to Swede, he drew a blank until Stella reminded him about the little white-haired boy who lived across the street so many years before. Swede's eyes lit up and with that grin, said, "John Francis McNamara the Second."

I've never enjoyed a picnic in a park as much as I enjoyed that one. Donald and Mary were there as well as Diane and her husband. Finally, Swede got around to asking me about my golf game. I was embarrassed to tell him that the only time in my life that I'd played had been with him and Red and Donald.

Richard "Swede" Benson passed away yesterday. My eyes got damp when I read the note.  The world lost an awfully good man, but what memories he's left for us who knew him.  That grin and handshake, those quiet offers of help, and the things he'd do for his friends, neighbors, and those of us who would only be in his life a short time, the men and women from the radar base.

Rest in peace, Swede, and please give Stella and Mary a hug from me.

Things I Remember

The family telephone on the wall (later on a table) in the hallway.

The family camera, a Kodak box Brownie, in a desk drawer in the living room

The family radio (and later TV) in the living room

The family games, all stored in their original boxes in a drawer upstairs.

Note:  These first four are no longer "family" things as they are now available on personal electronics.   I wonder if that is part of the cause of the way our society is slipping away.

The family car, parked in the garage unless Dad was at work.

The family vacation, perhaps a day at Morse Museum, or an afternoon at Mascoma Lake or Crystal Lake

Fishing Bloods Brook and being disdainful of the little stocked trout with white meat, but keeping them anyway.

Hanging around the garage, being impressed with the FWD, and Eddie Fitzgerald's wrecked LaSalle.

The family pew, always the very same one in the Congregational Church

The family get together, usually at my grandparent's big farm house.

Going to a two room, eight grade school - the big kids (4th graders) had the window aisle and I so wanted to be a big kid and sit along those windows.  Eventually, I did, but the very next year, I was in the other room and along the wall side.  Tsk.

Things I Don't Understand

Liquor Laws

1. A Maryland German restaurant that could serve beer and wine, was prevented by law from serving spirits because there was a church next door.
2. A Maryland Greek restaurant applied for a one-time permit to sell alcoholic beverages under a tent in the parking lot as part of a fiesta.  They were turned down by the Alcohol Beverage Control  folks who said they'd have no means of controlling who actually would be drinking.  That same ABC Board had approved drive-through service at liquor stores all over the county.
3. A parent in Georgia was against serving alcohol in restaurants on Sunday because she wanted to have one day of the week when she and her family could eat out without the children being exposed to alcohol. That was in the same general area where bars are known world-wide for the musicians they've spawned and billboards hawking beer and spirits blot the countryside. 
4. A law that prevents the sale of alcoholic beverages within so many feet of a church.  In one jurisdiction it is as close as 100 feet, in another, it is 1,600 feet.  In some jurisdictions, it is measured as a radius, as in the prohibition on liquor sales within a circle with a radius of 300' from the church.   In another, the distance is measured in the distance it would take to walk from the front door of the church to the front door of the establishment wishing to sell liquor.  
5. In Massachusetts, it is apparently OK to sell alcohol near a church unless the church objects.  
6. In Kansas, alcohol sales are permitted on Sunday, but not on Christmas or Easter.
7. In Louisiana, there is no state-imposed opening or closing time, so there are a number of places that sell alcohol but need no lock on the door. 
8. In New Hampshire, bottled spirits are only sold in state-owned stores, which may be placed (and often are) in highway rest areas.
9. In North Dakota, sale of any alcoholic beverage are prohibited after 6 PM Christmas Eve until 12 PM the day after Christmas, unless that day is a Sunday on which all sales are prohibited.
10. Monroe County, Tennessee, where Jack Daniels whiskey is produced, is totally dry.  
11. Puerto Rico prohibits the sale of alcohol during elections and hurricane emergencies. 
12. In Germany, minors at age 14 are permitted to possess and consume wine and beer as long as they are with a parent, at age 16, they are permitted to drink wine and beer without a parent, and at age 18, they may drink it all, and often do.
13. The minimum drinking age in Portugal is 16, but there is no minimum age in Jamaica.
14. The first Kentucky whiskey was made by a Baptist minister.
15.  Several states prohibit the sale of alcoholic beverages on Thanksgiving, a day set aside each year to be thankful for many things and as a means of celebrating that first Thanksgiving Feast at which there was beer, brandy, gin, and wine to drink.

The first time I was ever in Saskatchewan, I tried to drink Canada dry.

Smugness Isn't Becoming

I'm a New Hampshireman, born and raised in the Upper Valley.  I live in Georgia now, less by choice than by happenstance.  The lady I met and fell in love with had a family here, so they were added to my family.  I've often noted in my writings that southerners seem to have some sort of inferiority complex, thinking that northerners consider them dumb and poor hillbillies, or worse, rednecks with guns but no class.  I've tried to assuage those feeling by commenting on my own experiences growing up, in which we acknowledged that the south existed, but rarely ever thought about southerners in any way.  That is, until one summer in the late 1950s or perhaps early 60s, a young lady from Georgia spent her summer in our midst.  Cute as a button, golden hair, a curvy figure certain to earn attention, a mouth full of braces, and the cutest drawl you ever heard.  Yankee boys were beside themselves seeking to gain her favor, or at least to hear a "y'all" from those carmine lips.

But I digress.  The reason for this post is because the city of Atlanta and its environs has been under attack lately for the way an ice storm paralyzed the city.  This is written as sort of an answer to those attacks.

Lets create a scenario - fairly warm weather, temps in the 50's, not unusual for NH in October or early November.  Then 8 hours of freezing rain followed by sleet covering warm pavement up and down the Twin State Valley's roads and highways.  The rain washes away any preparatory mixture that may have been spread, then as sleet begins to gather, it creates a frozen mixture as much as an inch thick on some surfaces.  Traffic heading west on the I-89 bridge over the Connecticut River jams because several semi’s have come to a stop across all lanes, including the breakdown lane, totally unable to gain any traction.  Eastbound traffic on that same bridge has an even worse problem.

Two semis have jack-knifed along the exit lane to Rt12A South, jamming an SUV with a family of six into the bridge rail, killing one and maiming others.   Other vehicles become involved due to their inability to stop.  DOT trucks with plows and loads of salt and sand are unable to do their job because they too are stuck in the backup.  Vehicles that got through before the traffic completely stopped and all stuck on the highway rising up from the valley.

Benton Hill in Lebanon has dozens of cars and trucks in mostly minor crashes, but a semi was unable to slow down on Seminary Hill and has crashed into the Seminary Hill Plaza, taking out a power pole and electricity to the area, as well as demolishing a clinic. In the middle of all that, a young woman is giving birth to the baby she’d been planning to bring into the world at APD Hospital. No traffic can get up the hill from White River Junction into West Lebanon due to ice.  The Ledyard Bridge has lost a ball when an out of control Jeep with a Dartmouth parking sticker crashed into the base at nearly full speed.

Coles Hill on Rt 120 is clogged with an overturned semi, and cars are parked at the bottom of Meriden Hill to which there is no access from any direction.

Now, add the approximate working population of Metropolitan Boston, all of whom were advised to go home to the suburbs in the middle of the storm.  Add school buses into the mix.  Add four-wheel drive trucks whose drivers knew they could go better than ordinary cars, but forgot that those things don't stop any better on ice.

OK, so that's a bit far fetched.  Ya think?  Atlanta didn't think it would happen, either.  Oh, two days later, traffic was flowing well down here, too.

Remember those rains that flooded roads, washed out bridges, and left at least one town isolated from the rest of the world for a while?  Southerners didn't laugh at you all then.  Don't be too smug.  It isn't becoming.