Getting Married – Intuition

28 Sunday Aug 2022

Harnessing the N quality of your personality. The Intuitive part.

(https://www.16personalities.com/free-personality-test – a free test.)

Many of you have taken the Meyers-Briggs personality test. If so, you may have scored an N on your test which is a measure of your intuitive ability. Again, this is not a ‘mother’ quality, necessarily. Good mothers probably have a fair amount of this quality; however, so do gamblers, lawyers, negotiators, stock brokers, real estate agents, salespeople and general con artists. But, I am not suggesting that anyone become a con artist!!!! However, your intuitive skills and abilities are very important in inter-relationships with others, especially men.

Aagain, in relationships with men we frequently have to let go of the skills, abilities and go-to places that are so familiar. The Guide, the Counselor, the Helper, the Nurse and the Mother roles feel familiar and safe. Like a heavy winter coat, we need to take off that coat and bring forth other skills and abilities that are there, maybe latent, or underdeveloped. That said, we don’t have to stand naked and shivering in the cold light of day, there are other supports to be developed which we will discuss more in later chapters.

What is my job here if it not nurse, helper, guide, counselor and helpful Hannah?

What is my job in this dating game if it is not these familiar roles? Think of it like a light spring coat, in my mind, it is multi-colored with shades of green and other spring colors. You can imagine your coat anyway you want.

Your job is to listen and absorb information. Then to be open to your own feelings and reactions;, not to guide, counsel, improve, inform, redirect, help, the other person. Your job is to take care of you. If you do establish a relationship, there may be time to be the helper, to an extent, but regardless, you should never act as the man’s mother unless you want an adult child on your hands.

So, you are having a conversation with a man and you think, I might be interested! You may find yourself slipping into a fantasy about the potential of the relationship with hearts and flowers, la-la-la. Give yourself a mental slap, get back into the now and pay attention to what he is saying.

What is he saying? Talking about the ex-wife, the ex-girlfriends, what happened in the relationship (s), relationships with parents, brothers, sisters, friends, co-workers and others? How does he feel about family, friends and work? Is he happy or unhappy? Is he successful or not, even in relationship according to his own value set. Success does not necessarily mean a big house and a fast car. A man may feel contented with an apartment or condo and a used car. If he is in a serene place with children, ex’s, family, job and his own body, he may a person with room in his life for a relationship.

Pushmi-Pullyu

They had no tail, but a head at each end, and sharp horns on each head. They were very shy and terribly hard to catch. The… men get most of their animals by sneaking up behind them while they are not looking. But you could not do this with the pushmi–pullyu — because no matter which way you came towards him, he was always facing you. [The Story of Doctor Dolittle](Lofting, 1920.)

Every relationship has push and pull components. You push, he pulls – he pushes and you pull. Your job is to use your intuitive self and your 6^th sense to recognize these natural back and forth pulls in the relationship.

Particularly in the beginning of a possible relationship, you need to recognize the point at which the man either advances or he pulls away.

Wow! Oh, my God! He is pulling away! Hit the panic button and the red lights are flashing!!!!!! What now????????

Don’t chase.

The more you chase, the faster he will run the other direction. This is the time when you pull into yourself, center yourself, do your meditation and let go and relax.

How Can I Miss you if you Never Go Away? (1969) Dan Hicks and his Hot Licks.

We can utilize our intuitive sense to feel that the man is pulling away. We can be intuitive but we are not mind readers. We don’t know exactly what the man is thinking during this phase. Too often, as women, we conclude that it has something to do with us. We are too tall, too short, too fat, too skinny, too smart, too stupid, too educated or not educated enough, too rich or too poor. We are less than in some terms and that is why he is leaving.

Stop. You don’t know that and stop trying to figure it out. Refer back to the paragraph about men and their fears. The man may be reacting to the fears in his head and it may have little to do with you. However, that said, chasing after the man like a hungry carnivore looking for lunch will not dispel his fears. More the opposite.

What now?

Let go. Trust in whatever Higher Power that you believe in that things will work out the way they should. Relax and focus on you and not him.

This is the time to do You work and take your focus completely off him. Relax that grip you feel in both hands. Relationships are a process. You must let him process his feelings. He may like you, he may like spending time with you. However, like is not love. It can be the beginnings of love or not. He might like you, sense that you have feelings for him and pull away because he a) doesn’t want to lead you on or b) doesn’t want to get tangled up in a relationship, any relationship or c) he doesn’t love you, knows it and wants to cut his losses. Lastly, he may be confused about his feelings for you and distance can be the great clarifier. As he has distance, he is able to sort his feelings out and determine if he wants to reconnect or to disconnect. Either way, you are going to need to be accepting of his decision. The last thing you want is being trapped in a relationship with a man who feels trapped.

Allow the man time. He knows how to reach you. Let him reconnect, if that is what he wants on his own time schedule. If he doesn’t…oh well, sigh. If he does…whee! Imagine your surprise and delight when he re-enters your life and you didn’t have to do anything except sit there!

So, while you are contemplating your navel, feeling down and a little sorry for yourself, contemplate something else. How many times have you been pursued by men you had absolutely no interest in? And have they been relentless and obnoxious in their pursuit? Have you had to take steps to avoid certain men? All the time thinking to yourself, why is it always the ones I have no interest in?????? Maybe that is the point. Men frequently want the very thing they can’t have. The more you say no (and mean it) the harder they pursue.

So, are we playing games here? Not really. Games require work and effort instead of relaxing, letting go and allowing ‘the game’ to unfold without controlling, manipulating, coaxing, threatening, demanding, following, and all other activities that are so time consuming and fatiguing.

We let go and work on the Me inside.

Romantic you:

Your favorite movies are: The Proposal (Ryan Reynolds, Sandra Bullock), The Notebook (Sandra Bullock, Keanu Reeves), Somewhere in Time, and the list goes on. Your favorite books are all things: HEA (Happily Ever After), you wanted to be Cinderella when you were a kid, your favorite colors are pink or red, you love Valentine’s Day and Christmas (shades of red and pink).

You believe in happily ever after; however, it doesn’t quite seem to be coming true for you. Hmm. How can some women catch the brass ring and others not? What is the difference?

Sometimes it is luck. Sometimes timing. Sometimes, our pickers are a little bent and we tend to pick Mr. Wrong, again and again. Sigh. I want off this terrible merry-go-round she says. Is it possible? It is possible but it does take some work.

Meditation, friends, family, exercise, diet and having a life. Being the best you.

Skills and Hobbies

One of my favorite hobbies is social dancing. Unfortunately, due to Covid, most of us were not able to participate in this sport for some time. Gradually, as people become vaccinated, more people are returning to the dance floor.

I want to talk about one young lady who caught my eye several times. Young, in her twenties, she is not very tall, maybe 5’3” and slim. Not a pretty face either, one might describe it as ‘interesting,’ but certainly not beautiful. She dyed her hair a deep red color and usually spends a lot of time on the dance floor when she is there.

Why? This young lady is a very good dancer and makes a good dance partner. She has clearly been at it awhile and the men are pleased to dance with her. Now, has she gotten a husband/boyfriend off the dance floors? I have no idea. But I do know that she was having a lot of fun while in the studio and probably left feeling good about herself.

Isn’t that the point? Claiming the prize (a man) needs to stop being the all-encompassing motive for our activities. And, by the way, good for her!

The very opposite of that attitude is one held by a close friend of mine. A woman my age who has given up on diet and exercise. Again, why?

According to her, since she has given up on relationships (romantic) there is no need to exercise. Because, of course, the only reason ever exercise is to secure a man, right? My friend has steadily gained weight over the years and is miserable.

We all want relationships, otherwise, why read this book? However, the eye on the prize thinking has to change. We don’t get it together to get a man and then quit. (What is Mr. Wonderful going to think about us then?) We take responsibility for ourselves and our bodies and stop whining about it. Our lives and existence do not have to be, nor should be, all about ‘getting a man.’

More Rental Poverty

24 Sunday Jul 2022

Posted by webbywriter1 in Uncategorized

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I went out the other evening to do a spot of grocery shopping. There is a Dollar Tree store in this parking lot. As I pulled into the driveway, I paused and had to look again to be sure what I was seeing. There was a half naked man behind the Dollar Tree, using the side of the dumpster as a toilet. Then, he was trying to clean himself up with whatever he had available.

The emotions of surprise, shock, disgust all flood my mind. I went and got my items and drove out the same way. The man was still out there, doing what ever.

It is a black eye on our society where people are doing things like this public. This a middle-class neighborhood and I have never in my life seen things like this before. The homeless population grows by the day. The City refuses to fund public toilets because they ‘cost too much money.’ How much are things like this costing us in depreciating the value of our neighborhoods, creating filth, disease and mess that some unhappy worker will have to clean up?

The unemployment and housing crisis in this town is threatening to bring all of us to our knees. We need to address to cause of much of this. Covid of course is out there; however, the escalating cost of housing is outstripping most other problems. We need to try to grasp the fact that commercial real estate transactions have crippled our economy and that goes back to the recession on 2008. The fact that some people get rich while others go into the toilet is not helping. Why do you think that many extremely rich people are moving to New Zealand and remote islands off the coast of Africa? Maybe they remember their history lessons about the French Revolution and want to get out of the way. Here are more articles about the effects that commercial real estate have had and are having on our economy.

Domino Effect: Market Research

2017 – Andrew from DJA, Sacramento “…(we do) careful market research to deliver fair prices….in relation to the area.” (Retrieved from the Internet, 2022.)

What this phrase ‘careful market research’ means is that property management companies do market research for the area where their rentals are located. If you remember your statistics or math classes; the rental prices from a geographical area are gathered, (example – one bed room apartments,) the prices of all units are added and then divided by the total number of units to give the average market price for units in that zip code. This appears to be a fair system, until….one owner raises his price, then another does and another and, so on. In a domino effect, as more and more owners raise their prices, this same system therefore creates a rising average price. And this is whether or not the rise in prices is truly justified or not. For example, as seen in recently rising cost of gasoline and other inflationary costs.

Landlords are never required to give an accounting to their tenants for the increased rent and the reasons for it. They simply raise the rent and justify the cost with such market research tools that support their case.

An antidote to rising prices can be that potential renters, when they see a property that they like, when presented with the usual twenty page lease agreement containing endless Thou Shalt Not clauses, add one of their own stating “It is agreed between the parties that a rental increase of not more than (3-6%) shall attach each year.” When the rental company tells the potential renter ‘we can’t do that’ the renter can say, ‘and I can’t rent from you.’ If enough people did that, it would help curb the mad-dog escalating system that is now in place.

Recession of 2008

MARKETS INTERNATIONAL MARKETS

The Great Recession

THE INVESTOPEDIA TEAM

Updated May 26, 2022

Reviewed by

MICHAEL J BOYLE

Fact checked by

AMANDA BELLUCCO-CHATHAM

What Was the Great Recession?

The Great Recession was the sharp decline in economic activity during the late 2000s. It is considered the most significant downturn since the Great Depression. The term “Great Recession” applies to both the U.S. recession, officially lasting from December 2007 to June 2009, and the ensuing global recession in 2009.

The economic slump began when the U.S. housing market went from boom to bust, and large amounts of mortgage-backed securities (MBS) and derivatives lost significant value.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

The Great Recession refers to the economic downturn from 2007 to 2009 after the bursting of the U.S. housing bubble and the global financial crisis.
The Great Recession was the most severe economic recession in the United States since the Great Depression of the 1930s.
In response to the Great Recession, unprecedented fiscal, monetary, and regulatory policy was unleashed by federal authorities, which some, but not all, credit with the subsequent recovery.

Understanding the Great Recession

The term “Great Recession” is a play on the term “Great Depression”. An official depression occurred during the 1930s and featured a gross domestic product (GDP) decline of more than 10% and an unemployment rate that at one point reached 25%.

While no explicit criteria exist to differentiate a depression from a severe recession, there is a near consensus among economists that the downturn of the late-2000s, was not a depression. During the Great Recession, U.S. GDP declined by 0.3% in 2008 and 2.8% in 2009, while unemployment briefly reached 10%. However, the event is unquestionably the worst economic downturn in the intervening years.

https://www.investopedia.com/terms/g/great-recession.asp#:~:text=The%20credit%20markets%20that%20had,Bear%20Stearns%20in%20March%202008.

According to a 2011 report by the Financial Crisis Inquiry Commission, the Great Recession was avoidable. The appointees, which included six Democrats and four Republicans, cited several key contributing factors that they claimed led to the downturn.2

First, the report identified failure on the part of the government to regulate the financial industry. This failure to regulate included the Fed’s inability to curb toxic mortgage lending.

Next, there were too many financial firms taking on too much risk. The shadow banking system, which included investment firms, grew to rival the depository banking system but was not under the same scrutiny or regulation. When the shadow banking system failed, the outcome affected the flow of credit to consumers and businesses.3

Other causes identified in the report included excessive borrowing by consumers and corporations and lawmakers who were not able to fully understand the collapsing financial system. This created asset bubbles, especially in the housing market as mortgages were extended at low interest rates to unqualified borrowers who could not repay them. This caused housing prices to fall and left many other homeowners underwater. This, in turn, severely impacted the market for mortgage-backed securities (MBS) held by banks and other institutional investment companies.

______________________________________________________________________________

Conclusion: this country has gone through a fantastic financial drought caused primarily by the housing and mortgage lending industries. People have lost jobs, money, retirement funds, the where withal to live and some, their lives.

Once again, the tail that wags the dog, the commercial real estate industry is spreading its tentacles throughout this state. The end result will be systems in place that consistently raise the cost of living to the point it is unaffordable to the average person. People give up saving money, taking vacations, repairing their cars and teeth. The owners increase in wealth and power and exert increasing control and pressure on the economy. While sitting in their Cadillac Escalades, making appointments on cell phones that affect the lives of the ‘common people’ who they have neither a connect to nor any care for. Essential, the middle-class and our way of life rots under the heel of designer boots.

The solution to these problems is for individual cities to be given the authority to place a cap on the percent increase per year, allowed to landlords. An increase that is in line with the ordinary increases in salaries would be fair. Since most salaries increase per year by about 3 to 3.5%, so should rents. It is understandable that inflation this last year has out stripped those amounts, but why should renters be responsible for those numbers? An investment company with $20,000,000 in assets can better afford to take the ‘hit’ of inflation than the renter who has less than $2,000 in the bank. Pressure needs to be put on lawmakers in the State capital to make this a priority issue.

It is time to take back the economy from commercial real estate interests. This dog needs a muzzle.

7/17/22 cew

Roe vs Wade: The Worm Turns

28 Tuesday Jun 2022

Posted by webbywriter1 in dating, FRIENDSHIP, kids, marriage, romance, teenagers, Uncategorized

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ROE VS WADE: THE WORM TURNS

Thirty years ago when I was pregnant I was very amazed at the responses, unexpected, that I received from any number of people. I learned that in pregnancy, somehow the whole world seems to own you.

Firstly, I got a referral to an OBGYN from the medical board and went in for a visit. After suffering for 30 minutes with an older male doctor cracking jokes about sex and older women, I had to go to the counter and speak to the nurse. I did that, got my brochures and was told that “pregnancy was a disease” and I needed to treat it like that. Shocked, I rapidly found another doctor.

I was getting my hair cut at an inexpensive salon. The young man cutting my hair told me he thought I was too old to have a baby. I should have reported him to his boss, instead I changed salons. At an outdoor gathering/barbeque with ‘friends”, a friend advised me that ‘she knew someone who could help me out of my problem.’ I looked at her like the Angel of Death and quickly moved away. In addition to that remark, other ‘friends’ (mostly male) worked hard to make me feel ashamed and embarrassed about my condition. Because I was 38 years old and not 18 years old; I was not embarrassed, I got angry, finally.

Recently, when that baby turned 30 and got married, I was again faced with some similar comments. The baby, now a young lady, was engaged to a fella who got a job offer overseas. He could go but she couldn’t go unless they were married. So, the engagement was followed quickly by marriage.

I shared this good news with a ‘friend.’ Her first response was “Did she have to get married?” Unless you have lived under a rock for the last 50 years, you understand that translates into “Was she pregnant and they had to get married?” In other words, my daughter isn’t good enough to get a guy without being pregnant. A year and a half later, I’m still not a grandmother. I am also not talking to that ‘friend’ much these days.

Since I’m the age that I am; I can remember the days before Roe and the days after Roe. I have known girls who ‘had to get married’ and I have known girls who gave up babies for adoption. In addition to that, I have known women who have gotten pregnant and have been ordered by husbands and boyfriends to get an abortion. I have known the ones who resisted the man’s wishes and said “No, I’m having this baby.” Also, those who buckled under the man’s pressure and got the abortion. Guess who, after all these years, are the happiest and the most unhappy? Spoiler alert, the women who stuck up for themselves and their babies are the happiest.

So, what does this all mean? After centuries of men having children whether they wanted to or not and often more children than they wanted; we have situations where men are not getting the children they want. Women are using birth control, the birth rate has dropped dramatically. Add in abortion rights, the number of unwanted children around has dropped to almost nothing. The worm has turned. Men are having to take responsibility for wanting to have children. They are having to ask, for the very first time ever, asking the woman to please carry their children. How different is that?

Famous couples that broke up over the child issue: Here are three very famous couples that broke up and then remarried, apparently over the child/childless issue. Bruce Springsteen and Julianne Phillips; they got a divorce when she wanted to focus on her career. He remarried Patti Scialfa and has three children now. Ryan Reynolds and Scarlett Johanssen, they got a divorce and he remarried Blake Lively and they have three children. Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston; they got a divorce, he remarried Angelina Joie. They have 3 adopted children and 3 natural children.

My feeling is that if there are 3 very famous couples who have broken up over this issue, there are probably hundreds and hundreds of other couples who have broken up over the very same issues.

For hundreds of years, girls who ‘got into trouble’ were sent away to homes for unwed mothers to have their babies and then shamed into giving their babies up for adoption. These numbers of unwed mothers and ‘unwanted’ babies, at least in this country, have dropped to almost zero. I personally know of couples who are unable to conceive. Couples who desperately want children and are faced with a country where ‘free’ babies are virtually impossible to find. I have seen couples suffer through fertility clinics, surrogate mother scams and painful adoption proceedings.

Roe v Wade will make a lot of people very unhappy. The one sector of our population who are heaving a secret sigh are married couples looking to adopt a baby. I don’t know, maybe the universe is calling out for more babies.

As a society we need to consider why it is that so many young women of childbearing ages don’t want to have children. Why? Is it just the cost? Well, the cost is of course part, but not all. Could it be that we are still caught up in the shame-blame cycles of shaming and blaming pregnant women for their ‘condition’? Do we ever consider that men (of all ages) use women to satisfy their sexual needs? Does it take two generations of women refusing to bear children for men to finally realize that, yes, they too want children? It’s like a thousand country western songs, you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.

Pregnancy is not a curse or a disease. It is a gift. A lot more people need to start thinking that way. If you don’t believe me, sit down and have a chat with a childless couple. If we supported women and their children more as a society more, maybe there wouldn’t be such a rush to the abortion clinics.

The end.

Cew 6/22

U.S. Customs and Border Patrol Commissioner Pulled from Tucson Police.

19 Sunday Jun 2022

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Senate approves Tucson police Chief Chris Magnus to take over as CBP Commissioner

Tucson City Council taps Deputy Chief Chad Kasmar to lead the city’s police department

Chris Magnus was approved by the Senate to become commissioner of U.S. Customs and Border Protection.(Cronkite News)

By KOLD News 13 Staff

Published: Dec. 7, 2021 at 4:22 PM MST

TUCSON, Ariz. (KOLD News 13) – In an 50-47 vote Tuesday, the Senate approved Tucson police Chief Chris Magnus to take over as commissioner of U.S. Customs and Border Protection.

Magnus was hired as TPD’s leader in 2016 when Roberto Villaseñor retired.

“I congratulate Chief Magnus on his appointment and am grateful for his dedicated service and contributions to our community. I look forward to working together with the Commissioner on key issues affecting Southern Arizona,” Tucson Mayor Regina Romero was quoted as saying in a news release.

As head of the TPD, he had more than 1,100 employees. As CBP commissioner, he will lead a 60,000-worker department.

President Joe Biden in April nominated Magnus for the position, citing his “lengthy career” in law enforcement and experience working in a border state.

“In Tucson, Magnus implemented de-escalation training, sentinel event review processes, and programs to promote officer health and wellness. Because of Tucson’s proximity to the border, he has extensive experience in addressing immigration issues,” read a statement from the White House.

But the nomination was held up for months and things didn’t kick back up until early November.

Magnus has spent more than four decades working in public safety. He began working as a dispatcher and paramedic in his native Lansing, Michigan before becoming a sheriff’s deputy.

He became chief of the Fargo Police Department in North Dakota in 1999 and took over as police chief in Richmond, California, in 2006.

The Tucson City Council on Tuesday, Dec. 7, unanimously approved Tucson Deputy Chief Chad Kasmar to take over as chief.(City of Tucson)

Also on Tuesday, the Tucson City Council unanimously approved the promotion of Deputy Chief Chad Kasmar to take over for Magnus. The position went into effect immediately.

“During his 21-year career at the Tucson Police Department, Chad Kasmar has earned the respect of our Tucson community as well as fellow officers. Chad has proven himself to be a collaborator who sees public safety through a holistic lens and shares my vision of Community Safety, Health, and Wellness,” Romero said.

Kasmar has been a member of the Tucson Police Department since 2000, and was promoted to Deputy Chief in 2016.

He is a graduate of Amphitheater Public Schools and the University of Arizona and has spent time in several divisions with the TPD. Most recently, Kasmar served as the interim director at 911 Communications.

Romero says she will ask Kasmar to go on a “listening tour” with community members to further develop his goals for the department.

________________________________________________________________

The world will be watching to see how this new command fairs with these never ending and contenscious border problems.

Russian Must not be Humiliated in Ukraine says Emmanuel Macron, French President

14 Tuesday Jun 2022

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French president says door must be left open to allow for improvement in diplomatic relations after war

Russia-Ukraine war: latest updates

Macron has said Vladimir Putin made a ‘historic and fundamental’ error in invading Ukraine. Photograph: Julien de Rosa/EPA

Dan Sabbagh in Kyiv The Guardian

Sat 4 Jun 2022 10.54 EDT

Russia must not be humiliated in Ukraine, Emmanuel Macron has said, to allow an improvement in diplomatic relations between the west and Moscow whenever the war comes to an end.

The French president said his Russian counterpart, Vladimir Putin, had made a “historic and fundamental” error in invading Ukraine, but that nevertheless a wider escalation in hostilities had to be avoided.

Giving an interview to a group of regional newspapers in his home country, Macron said: “We must not humiliate Russia so that the day the fighting stops, we can build a way out through diplomatic channels.”

The role of France was to be that of “a mediating power”, the president added, saying he had put “time and energy” into ensuring the conflict did not escalate into a wider war, including negotiating with the Russian president.

“I have lost count of the conversations I have had with Vladimir Putin since December,” Macron said. They amounted to 100 hours’ worth, he added, which were “at the request of” Ukraine’s president, Volodymyr Zelenskiy.

Macron has consistently sought to engage directly with Putin and has repeatedly called for a ceasefire in the conflict, including on an 80-minute phone call at the end of last month with the Russian leader and the German chancellor, Olaf Scholz.

That has led to periodic accusations that the French leader wants Ukraine to make concessions to secure a peace agreement, although the Élysée Palace says any peace agreement must be negotiated between Putin and Zelenskiy, showing “due respect for the sovereignty and territorial integrity of Ukraine”.

None of the discussions, however, appear to have borne fruit. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine passed the 100-day mark on Friday, with little sign of the war ending amid heavy fighting in the eastern city of Sievierodonetsk.

Macron said he believed Putin had “isolated himself” and did not know what to do next. “Isolating oneself is one thing, but being able to get out of it is a difficult path,” the French president added.

House Votes Yea on raising Age to 21 for Purchase of Assault Rifles.

09 Thursday Jun 2022

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NEWSWEEK

House Votes ‘Yea’ on Raising Age to 21 for Purchase of Assault Rifles

BY JAKE THOMAS ON 6/8/22 AT 6:37 PM EDT

Watch: House Votes ‘Yea’ On Raising Age To 21 For Purchase Of Assault Rifles

The House of Representatives has approved legislation in favor of raising the age to purchase a military-style rifle, like the one used in Uvalde, Texas, to 21.

Lawmakers voted 228-199 to include the provision in a package of gun control measures approved earlier by the House Judiciary Committee. The vote comes in response to pressure for Congress to respond to a string of mass shootings, including a massacre at Robb Elementary School on May 24 in Uvalde. While the measure passed with some Republican support, it faces an uncertain future in the evenly divided Senate.

The House of Representatives voted 228-199 in favor of a provision raising the age to buy military-style guns to 21. Here, Representative Raja Krishnamoorthi, an Illinois Democrat, speaks to the House Oversight and Reform Committee following testimony about gun violence on June 8, 2022, in Washington, D.C.

Representative Anthony Brown, the Maryland Democrat who authored the provision, said on the House floor that shooters in massacres in Uvalde, Buffalo, New York, Florida’s Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School and others were committed by males under age 21.

“Right now, you must be 21 in this country to buy a handgun, and you only need to be 18 years old to buy a semiautomatic rifle capable of committing unspeakable tragedies,” Brown said on the floor. “I served in the military. I trained with these weapons. I know what they can do. These weapons of war have no place in our neighborhoods, let alone in the hands of an untrained 18-year-old boy.”

While he said the legislation wouldn’t stop the country’s gun violence problem, it would be worth it if it “can save one life or one community from this carnage.”

ADVERTISING

Title I of the Protecting Our Kids Act prohibits federally licensed federal gun dealers from selling to anyone under the age of 21 any “semiautomatic centerfire rifle or semiautomatic centerfire shotgun that has, or has the capacity to accept, an ammunition feeding device with a capacity exceeding 5 rounds.”

……………………………………………….

Will Humble of the AZ Public Health Association also supports background checks on individuals, a three day waiting period and would perfer that we raise the age to buy these weapons to 25 years. Although he recognizes this is not likely to happen; he indicates the 3 day waiting period will help reduce the number of suicides and the background checks will help reduce the number of homicides.

Action definitely needs to be taken. There is a big difference between the militia men of 1776 and the assault rifles of today. cew

Arizona settlement with Johnson and Johnson – Opioids

09 Thursday Jun 2022

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Johnson & Johnson and Distributors Settlements

In August 2021, Attorney General Mark Brnovich announced his office has conditionally signed on to a proposed $26 billion national settlement with Cardinal, McKesson, and AmerisourceBergen – the nation’s three major pharmaceutical distributors – and Johnson & Johnson, which manufactured and marketed opioids. Final details, including a critical mass of states and political subdivisions nationally, are necessary to finalize the settlement.

If finalized, Arizona as a whole would receive up to $549 million from the settlement and the money would be used for opioid treatment, prevention, and education, in compliance with the One Arizona Plan, described above. Read more on the One Arizona Plan.

Funding Overview:

Nationally, the three distributors (Cardinal, McKesson, and AmerisourceBergen) collectively will pay up to $21 billion over 18 years.
Nationally, Johnson & Johnson will pay up to $5 billion over nine years with up to $3.7 billion paid during the first three years.
The total funding distributed will be determined by the overall degree of participation by both litigating and non-litigating state and local governments.
After attorneys’ fees and costs, the money is to be spent on opioid treatment and prevention.
Arizona’s share of the national funding has been determined by an agreement among the states using a formula that takes into account the impact of the crisis on the state and the population of the state.

Injunctive Relief Overview:

The 10-year agreement also requires Cardinal, McKesson, and AmerisourceBergen to:
- Establish a centralized independent clearinghouse to provide all three distributors and state regulators with aggregated data and analytics about where drugs are going and how often, eliminating blind spots in the current systems used by distributors.
- Use data-driven systems to detect suspicious opioid orders from customer pharmacies.
- Terminate customer pharmacies’ ability to receive shipments, and report those companies to state regulators, when they show certain signs of diversion.
- Prohibit shipping of and report suspicious opioid orders.
- Prohibit sales staff from influencing decisions related to identifying suspicious opioid orders.
- Require senior corporate officials to engage in regular oversight of anti-diversion efforts.
The 10-year agreement requires Johnson & Johnson to:
- Stop selling opioids.
- Not fund or provide grants to third parties for promoting opioids.
- Not lobby on activities related to opioids.
- Share clinical trial data under the Yale University Open Data Access Project.

In order for the multistate settlement to be finalized, a critical mass of participating states and local governments will need to sign on.

The text of the full proposed Johnson & Johnson and Distributors’ settlements can be found on the settlement administrator’s website.

Important information for counties, cities, and towns: The national settlement administrator will mail additional information and voting instructions on the proposed Johnson & Johnson and Distributors settlements to Arizona counties, cities, and towns beginning the week of September 20, 2021.

Other AGO Opioids Actions

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Pony – Part II

08 Wednesday Jun 2022

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Youth

Azim’s shoulders sagged and he laid the comb back on its shelf.

“Tomorrow, Flower.” He had named her himself. Flower or Flower of the Desert he was to call her.

The next day, Azim bolted his breakfast, splashed water on his face and got through morning prayers with one eye on the door. The moment they were done, he ran out the door, two green apples bulging in his pockets.

He ran for the barn and carefully unwound the rope tie and ran to his horse. Sal-gal was slowly munching again. Azim could see that Mohammad had already been in the barn and left a small wooden stool there with oats on the top. Sal was eating the oats.

Azim grabbed the comb again and started on her tail. It was a worse mess than her mane, if that was possible. Sal ignored him and only kicked lightly once when he pulled an obnoxious burr out. Azim murmured to her and she flicked her tail and turned to look at him once. Then, she went back to her oats like he wasn’t there.

Azim just could not bear to leave her so he stayed, puttering about. Later, Salim also showed up. During the day, various people from the village, curious about the new arrival, showed up to see. Salim became the unofficial tour guide and told the story over and over again about how the pony had been found in the desert by his father, close to the railway tracks.

They all wanted to know about the rider of the pony. There were many long looks and shakings of the heads.

Azim’s mother and sister’s tended the soldier night and day for nearly a weak. The young man was very, very sick.

By the third day, Azim kept after his father that Flower needed fresh air and exercise. It was a buoyant Azim and Salim who, after Mohammad fitted the bit back in Sal’s mouth, were allowed to lead her around the village. People came out to look at her and admire. She was such a beauty.

After she had been cleaned thoroughly with water, Mohammad got out some of his special oils.

“These are from my horse who died. You remember him don’t you, Salim?” Mohammad asked his son. Salim nodded. “Yeah, I miss him, every day.”

The man gazed into the distance, remembering. He allowed the boys to brush the oils into her coat and hooves. Now, clean and with a lightly oiled sheen, Sal-gal gleamed in all her chestnut glory. The mane was clean as well as her tail.

Azim’s sisters got into the act and got some wildflowers to put in the horse’s mane. He thought it was silly, but they insisted.

“It’s a girl,” they said to him. “Girls wear flowers.” He grimaced but allowed it.

Each morning, mother had allowed him two hard apples for Flower and then, to his amazement, a couple of carrots were added. Ali raced to the barn and fed Flower by hand stroking her forelock and murmuring to her. #

On the fourth day, mother came out of the bedroom and spoke to his father.

“The fever has broken. I think he will be alright now. He is young and healthy.”

Omar nodded to her and went out to find Mohammad. The two men met and walked to the edge of the village.

“He’s a soldier,” Omar told his friend.

“Yes, from the military camp,” Mohammad replied. “French?”

“No, English, I think. He was muttering in English,” Omar said.

The two men nodded.

“We have to take him back.” They both nodded. “And the horse.” Omar glanced sideways at his friend knowing full well the man’s love of horses.

There was a pause.

“I am sorry, Omar, the boy…”

“The boy will live. There will be other horses,” Omar picked his words carefully.

“Well, yes.” Mohammad thought about his own ancient animal, recently deceased. “Of course, other horses …” He paused thinking. “You will tell him?”

“Yes, we can go to the camp together? Take the boys?”

“Yes, I think they would like that,” Mohammad sounded resigned.

Sadly, Omar returned home. He would have to talk to his son. #

That evening, Omar left the barn. Azim was inside crying. Omar decided to leave the boy for a while. There was nothing else to be done.

He got home. Fatima looked at him. “He’ll be okay,” he told her. “He just needs some time.”

Fatima took a bowl of soup from the kitchen and walked it back to the bedroom. The soldier could almost sit up by himself now. She would feed him a little soup.

Later that evening, Omar and Fatima walked quietly to the barn. Omar opened the door and they peeked in. Azim was asleep, curled up in the straw next to his horse. Sal-gal stood with her head down, she was close to the boy and they saw her reach over and nuzzle him once. As quietly as they came, they closed the door and left. #

The next day, early, Omar, Mohammad, Azim, and Salim got ready for their trip. It was decided that they would all travel together to the military compound. The expensive leather saddle had been cleaned, oiled and scrubbed until it shone. The silver buckles and points gleamed in the early morning sun.

Mohammad, who was considered the best rider in the village, had the honor of riding Sal-gal/Flower. Azim would ride in the saddle behind him. Omar and Salim would follow, each on the smaller village donkeys. Azim’s mother and sisters had prepared food for the trip. Leather flasks of water were filled up. Dates and raisins were in little pouches, falafel and goat cheese were in another pouch.

One would think they would be gone three days. In truth, the compound was only about twenty miles away. The men were sure they would be there before late afternoon. Sal-gal responded to her new rider like the champ she was and obeyed commands that Mohammad fearfully gave her. The two got used to each other after a few miles. Soon, it wasn’t just Azim who regretted this trip, Mohammad was having second thoughts about giving this excellent pony back to the British.

“If we just made the soldier disappear, who would know? I could keep this beautiful horse. I need to speak to Omar again.” Mohammad’s thoughts whirled like angry animals through his head.

Midday, the group rested, and Azim led Flower to the watering hole and stroked her neck. He murmured to her and picked tiny bits out of her mane. She nuzzled him and he held onto her head. Silent tears began to run down his cheeks. Omar came over and put an arm on his son’s shoulders. One little tear fell down his cheek too. Azim laid down close to his pony and closed his eyes.

He was awakened by the sound of arguing. He looked over and saw his father and Mohammad having a heated discussion several yards away. Mohammad was waving his arms and gesturing toward Flower. His father, arms crossed over his chest just kept shaking his head no. Finally, Mohammad walked away, clearly fuming with his arms stuck akimbo on his hips. Azim closed his eyes again. #

By late afternoon, the odd group were entering the gates of the military compound. A British guard on duty sent for the Arabic interpreter. The soldiers at the gate were instantly suspicious of village people bringing in what was obviously a pony belonging to one of their junior officers.

Much rapid-fire conversation commenced and one of the guards silently took the reins of Sal-gal from Omar. Azim still stayed glued to the horses’ side.

“We need to take this to the commander, toute suite,” the one guard said to the other.

The entire group, Sal-gal, donkeys, et. al, proceeded through the camp to a small whitewashed building at the far side of the gate.

Mohammad thought to himself, Maybe they’ll be so grateful for what we have done, they’ll give us the horse as a reward! He was to be disappointed.

The interpreter went with one of the soldiers and the others stood outside. When the village men started to climb the steps, the soldier put his hand out to stop them.

“Wait here,” he told them.

The two men and the two boys waited. There was the sound of conversation inside. In a few moments, a big man, dressed a lot like the soldier in Fatima’s bedroom came out. He had dark hair and a thin mustache. He was imposing and looked very no-nonsense. A younger man, in the same dress, was with him.

“What’s all this?” His eyebrows went up.

More rapid-fire conversation.

“I believe they are Bedouin’s sir. From a local village. They found a soldier.”

“Lt. Nelson, you think?” The older man asked.

His aide de camp nodded.

“He’s been missing for days.”

“Looks like he fell ill, sir.” The aide told the commander in a low voice. “They found him unconscious.”

“They did, did they?” Was the commander’s reply. He began walking down the steps followed closely by his aide de camp.

The men understood nothing the commander said to them. The interpreter began babbling to them. At this point, the villagers all nodded their collective heads up and down rapidly.

“Ah,” the Commander commented and walked over to Sal-gal.

He walked around the pony, looking at her face, picking up her feet, looking at those. He circled the pony entirely and patted her on the neck.

“And you took care of his horse, too?”

More interpreting, much more nodding of the heads.

“Well,” the commander looked back at his assistant, “she looks to be in pretty good shape. Better, actually,” he laughed. “Better I think than when Nelson was taking care of her. Ha!” He smoothed his mustache.

“And you still have him? Nelson, I mean?” The commander asked.

More translating and more nodding of heads.

“Well then,” the commander turned and looked at his aide, “I guess we’ll have to go get him.” The aide nodded.

“But,” the Commander looked at the sky, “getting late. And, it seems to me these gentlemen have rendered a service to the British Army. Not in a case of conflict, of course, but in rescuing both a junior officer and his,” he stopped to give Sal-gal a little pat, “his very valuable Army property. Tom, let’s invite these men in for some food and drink and start this trip tomorrow morning.”

The aide de camp talked to the interpreter who gave the message to the villagers who looked uncertainly around. With some deal of coaxing, the men ascended the steps and were led to the mess hall in the same building.

Tom, the aide de camp came over to his boss and whispered, “The boy wants to go with the horse.”

“What?”

“The boy,” Tom pointed, “wants to go with the horse.”

“Ah, I see.” The commander looked over at the skinny kid standing next to Sal-gal’s reins. He could easily read the forlorn look. “Okay, Tom, tell the stable master I said it was okay. Take the kid a plate of something.”

Tom nodded to Azim and waved for the boy to follow him. Tom handed the reins to the kid who clutched them in his fist. The two walked silently to the stables. #

Later, dinner was served, and the villagers took off their shoes and left them at the door. There were snickers and asides from the men who came into eat. They received the parental glare from their chief. In a few moments, the aide de camp clinked his glass with a spoon. The commander stood up.

“Ah, yes. I would like to say, men, that my guests,” he cast a gimlet eye on the assembled troops, “my guests, here are from the local village a few miles from here. It appears a few days ago, from what I understand, Lt. Nelson, out on patrol was struck with some kind of fever, fell from his horse, and was rescued by these men.” He waved in their direction. “He has been taken to their village and nursed back to health. For these things, we need to thank them.” The commander began to applaud, and his troops quickly joined in.

The villagers practically blushed and bowed many times. The interpreter was busy telling them what was said. The men even ate some of the food offered to them.

After dinner, the commander summoned Tom over.

“Where’s that kid?”

Tom jerked his head. “He’s still in the stable, sir.”

“Hum,” the commander nodded. “Entertain our guests if you would Tom and get them a place to sleep for the night.”

Tom nodded and turned to the interpreter again.

The commander got up and walked outside. It was another starry night in the desert, the full moon had passed, and a half moon hung in the sky. A light breeze stirred the desert sand and he could smell jasmine faintly in the air. He lit a cigar.

Quietly for such a big man, he approached the stables and went in.

The stable master was in his cramped little office finishing up some paperwork.

“The boy?” the commander asked.

The master jerked his head to the back of the stable.

The commander walked back and came to the last stall and stopped. There, Sal-gal was standing, her saddle and reins were off, and she was contentedly munching hay. The skinny kid he had seen before had an old wire brush in one hand and was stroking down her side. He was talking to the pony in a low voice and occasionally she would whinny back.

The commander had his cigar in one hand and puffed on it thoughtfully. He stood there a few moments. The kid never seemed to notice him.

I wonder, he thought to himself, turned and left.

He went back to the main building and back to the camp mess. The villagers were being served tiny cups of coffee by the interpreter. Apparently, from his own private stock. They all seemed to be relaxed now and enjoying themselves.

The commander sat down a little distance away and waved to his aide. The younger man separated himself and came up.

“Sir?”

“Ah, Tom. Um…tell the interpreter to tell the men,” he gestured loosely at the group, “that we might need the services of a water boy in the stable.”

Tom ogled at his boss a moment. “A water boy, sir? We’ve never had…”

“Tell him, Tom.” The older man puffed on his cigar.

Tom turned, went, and sat down next to the interpreter and started speaking. There commenced a great deal of conversation and waving of hands. This went on for some minutes. Tom got up and went back to his boss.

“They say it depends completely on the mother. She cannot lose her oldest son.”

“Right, tell them there is very little money involved, mostly room and board but the boy will be able to work with the horses every day. Maybe learn to ride.” The commander puffed some more.

Tom went back and conveyed the message. More conversation and waving of hands. The villagers did not look directly at the commander but confided their comments to the interpreter and Tom.

Tom came back. “They will have to go home to discuss it.”

“Understood,” the commander said. He got up and bowed. “Salaam.”

The villagers bowed to him in return, “Salaam,” they all said. #

The next day, two jeeps and several British soldiers followed the directions given to them by the interpreter and Omar, the father of Azim. As a treat, they let the kid ride in the jeep, and he helped point the way. Azim held his face into the wind and grinned the whole way home, hair whipping in his face.

On the return trip, Mohammad rode one of the donkeys. Perhaps Allah will be very good to us and the soldier will get sick again and die this time. He smiled broadly at the thought.

In a few hours, they were able to locate the village. Omar led them to Junior Officer Nelson who was now well enough to walk.

At the village, numerous thank yous were exchanged on both sides. The mother and sisters all kissed Nelson on the cheek and pressed gifts of dates, nuts, and raisins into his hands. He turned red from the attention and got stiffly into the back of the jeep.

More bowing occurred. Tom, aide de camp, separated himself from the others and dragged the interpreter into the house of Omar and Fatima. They conveyed the offer from the Commander again. Fatima looked stunned and just stared at her husband.

Tom nodded, bowed, and said. “Your decision, ma’am, of course.” With that he turned and left the tiny plaster house followed by the interpreter.

Getting back in the jeep he turned to Nelson. “Well, soldier, you have had quite the ride, sir.”

A wan Nelson, holding his side, nodded briefly. In a cloud of dust, the two jeeps drove off. #

One month later, the commander walked into the stable.

“Mr. Gleason let me present your new stable boy. This is Azim.”

Azim stepped forward timidly and bowed.

“Do he speak any English, sir?”

“Not a word, not a drop.”

“Well, sir …”

“We talked about this, Gleason. He’s a sharp lad, he’ll pick it up quick and any real problems, ask the interpreter.”

“Ah, sir …”

“Good for public relations, Gleason. You’re doing your part. Plus,” the commander turned to leave, “he is a whiz with horses.”

“Oh, well,” the older man sighed. “Okay, kid …” Gleason looked at the skinny kid in front of him, “we are going to show you the shovel. That’s s-h-o-v-e-l. Understand?”

Azim bounced on his toes and nodded his head furiously.

Gleason showed him the shovel and the bucket. Azim got to work immediately.

When Gleason shuffled back to his office, muttering, Azim, stopped, peeked around the corner and tip toed down the to last stall. There were two green apples in his pockets.

“Flower,” he said.

There was a whinny.

Finis    -    النهاية
Read more of Courtney’s writing in:
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Pony

08 Wednesday Jun 2022

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He sat in the saddle. The sun beat down. He was sweating even under his hat. He took it off and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. He almost wiped it against his uniform sleeve, but the thought of long hours trying to keep it clean in this dust and dirt bowl…

The dizziness came back. What in the heck was in that beer? Second Lieutenant Nelson swayed in the saddle. He stuck his hat back on his head. Sal-gal, his quarter horse, sensing something, whinnied at him. He patted her sleek, golden-brown neck.

“You’re right, Sal. We need to get back to camp. Won’t do to be out past curfew.” Nelson pulled her reins and she walked a few steps in the hard scrabble sand.

The dizziness came back, only worse. Nelson was sweating even more now and there was a pounding in his ears. His head was killing him, and he was bending over now, low over the saddle. Sal-gal stopped.

Clutching the saddle horn, Nelson felt the darkness overwhelm him. Still holding the reins in one hand, he slowly fell from the saddle. One boot was caught in the stirrup. He managed to pull his foot out of the boot before he completely passed out.

Sal-gal stood patiently next to her master. There was a little scrub grass close to the railway tracks and she moved over and started munching.

The bright desert sun was starting to descend in the sky. Two men dressed in striped cotton gowns with wrapped turbans on their heads, were using the railway ties as a walkway. They were busy chatting in Arabic and taking a walk before the evening meal.

Twilight was settling but one of the men spotted the horse standing motionless by the side of the tracks. The two started running toward the quarter horse shouting expletives.

“What son of a donkey would leave a nice horse like that out here alone?”

They ran toward Sal-gal who stood calmly and finally saw the young soldier lying in the sand. They ran to him. He was unconscious and very hot. One of the men retrieved the long leather boot from the ground where it had fallen. Together, the two of them lifted the young man up and pushed him over, facedown across his horse’s saddle.

They turned around, a goggle with speculation and led Sal-gal and her master back to their village. As they came into the village, heads began to pop out with a myriad of questions. Who is he, where is he from? The two men, Omar, and Mohammad waved the questions off and led the pony to Omar’s small home. Numerous hands came to help them lift and pull the young man off the saddle and into Omar’s dwelling. His wife turned from dinner and exclaimed, a hand over her mouth.

“He is sick, mother,” Omar said to her in Arabic.

Pointing with a long wooden spoon, she directed the men to the main bedroom, where they laid Nelson on a low bed.

Fatima put down the spoon and leaned over the young man.

“Undo the jacket,” she commanded her husband.

They carefully unbuttoned the brown light-wool jacket with its high collar and metal buttons. Omar undid the wide brown leather belt and laid it aside. He had to pull the leather strap from around the man’s chest to get it off him.

“He’s burning up,” Fatima told her husband. She yelled at the girls to bring her rags and cold water. They did and Fatima wrung the water out of the first rag. Carefully, she began to wipe the dirt and dust off the young man’s face. Dinner, for the moment, was forgotten.

Mohammad still stood outside holding Sal-gal with one hand. Omar came and spoke to him briefly.

“Can we put her in your barn? The man is very sick.”

With some reluctance, Mohammad agreed and started to lead the pony away.

“Can I help, father?” Azim, Omar’s oldest son, eagerly pulled at his father’s sleeve.

Omar smiled down in the dim light at his son, the one who always loved animals.

“Yes, of course, my son. Go.” Omar turned and went back inside his dwelling. Azim scampered after Mohammad and the pony.

In the small barn, Mohammad undid the buckle from under Sal’s belly. He and Azim carefully pulled the saddle off the pony’s back. Mohammad placed the saddle with care on the ground. He ran a hand over the smooth, tooled leather, admiring the silver metalwork.

“She needs water,” he told the boy.

Azim gathered up the reins and led Sal to the water trough where she began to drink heavily.

“Hum,” Mohammad said, “this is a very fine horse. We have hay. Maybe some oats for her too.” Azim was still holding the reins while Sal drank. The boy was mesmerized.

“She is the most beautiful horse I have ever seen,” he said dreamily.

“Yes, yes. Very fine. We need to get those reins off her.” Mohammad was a little impatient. His dinner waited.

Sal had a good drink. Mohammad approached her cautiously, and gradually lifted the leather head piece off from her ears and then pulled the metal bit from her mouth. He hung them from a peg.

“She needs to eat. And she is dirty and needs to be brushed down. You want to do that?” he asked the boy already knowing the answer.

Azim jumped up and down.

“Alright then. I will send my son and he will show you where everything is. And whatever you do, do not leave the door open for her to get out. Can you do that?”

Azim looked stricken. “No, no. I will guard her with my life.”

Mohammad almost laughed. “Well, hopefully it doesn’t come to that. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Keep the door shut.”

Mohammad had put a light rope around Sal’s neck with a hand lead. Azim got her over to the hay pile and she began to munch contentedly.

In a few minutes, Mohammad and his oldest son were back. They pulled out the grooming comb, brush and a small pail with cold water and rags. Mohammad left them with more admonishments about shutting the door behind themselves. The boys got to work with the rags and water.

Azim took the rag and gently wiped Sal’s face to get off the dust. She blinked at him with her big eyes and long lashes and kept eating. He started to talk to her in Arabic and stroke her mane.

The other boy began working the flanks.

“She is as dirty as a donkey,” he exclaimed.

“Don’t say that, she’s no donkey.”

“Okay, okay, Azim. No more remarks about your new girlfriend, okay?”

Azim didn’t even hear him. He was busy with the grooming brush and was working Sal’s entire side getting out the dirt. When the water was dirty, he picked up the pail and headed for the door.

“I’ll be right back.”

The other boy nodded at him. Azim made sure the door was completely closed. He threw the dirty water to the side and ran for the well.

The moon was rising in the sky and was bright, casting a clear light on the village square. Azim did something he usually would not be caught dead doing, he gathered the well bucket and pulled up water for his little pail. This was woman’s work, but at the moment, he didn’t care. He filled up his pail and walking as fast as he could go, without spilling, he got back to the barn. Setting the bucket down, he opened the door, put the bucket in and pulled the door shut behind himself.

Salim, the other boy was still there.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of this. I hardly had any dinner. I think I’ll go. You?”

Azim shook his head, ignoring the growls from his own stomach.

“Alright then. She’s all yours. See you tomorrow.” Salim left.

Azim waited until he was gone then went and double checked that the door was shut. He finished with Sal’s flanks and got out the broad toothed comb and began on her mane. There were bits of weed and brush tangled in her hair. He carefully picked them out speaking to her in a low voice. He had worked for an hour when his father came in.

“Oh, doesn’t she look good!” Omar exclaimed. “Much better. Yes, she’s very beautiful.”

Azim’s eyes gleamed up at his father.

Omar patted his son on the shoulder. “Good work. But, my son, mother says you need to come home now. Tomorrow is another day. And, no dinner yet, yes?”

Azim’s shoulders sagged and he laid the comb back on its shelf.

Continue to Part II

Danny Davies, Train Conductor Pt II

06 Monday Jun 2022

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Crime fiction

     The next day, after seeing the kid again with the bag of Mexican food, Danny was on the Sacto-south loop coming back through the capital at about dusk. They stopped in front of the station and Danny peered out. Once again, he could see what looked very much like dim light coming from a far window in the red-brick warehouse next to the train tracks.

     He got a bee in his bonnet. He went to find the Frump.

     “Look,” he said to him confidentially, “it’s one stop away from Davis and I want to get off in Sacramento to go do some shopping.”

      Franklin looked pained. “You know they don’t like it when we do stuff like that, Dan. You’ll get me in trouble.”

    “Come on Franklin, I’m good for it.” Danny pleaded his case. “I’ll make it up with some yard duty tomorrow, promise.”

     The Frump heaved his large belly around some and sighed. “Promise?”

     “Promise, I swear,” Danny replied, holding up his scout’s honor fingers.

     “Ah, well,” the man sighed, “I’ll cover for you, don’t make a habit of this.”

     Danny shook his head, no. Grabbing his backpack, he jumped off the train, quickly stuffing his cap and other paraphernalia into the bag.

     He shouldered the bag and sauntered through the train station stopping for a hot coffee and a bag of chips. He waved a salute to a couple of girls at the station who knew him. They both giggled and waved back at him. He walked out of the front of the station and stood awhile to get his bearings.

     The locations looked a little different from this angle. He decided the warehouse was out the front and to his right a block or two. He started walking and veered right. The streets here were not in the best of shape, a lot of cracks in the sidewalks and places where the old trees had pulled the sidewalk up. Obviously, no one had bothered to get them repaired. There weren’t too many bums in this area of the street for which Danny was glad, he didn’t want to be seen by anyone, in case someone asked questions.

     It took him about five minutes to get to the front parking lot of the old warehouse. The asphalt was faded with cracks and potholes everywhere. Weeds were trying hard to reclaim the land but half of them were dried out and brown. There was an ancient metal fence around the property with the gate was sagging open. Danny gained access easily.

     He had by this time finished his coffee and chips and stuck the remains quietly into his bag. Loose gravel covered the broken asphalt and he tried to make as little noise as possible as he approached the building. He couldn’t see any signs of life.

     Quietly he moved around to the side of the building. The place had a gloomy, empty feeling to it. The early twilight was descending and a light breeze played with his dark, curly hair on his neck. He could hear absolutely nothing.

     Danny kept walking and occasionally peeked in the windows, searching for the source of the light he had seen. The dirt and grime was so bad he couldn’t see much. Finally, he came upon a small side door with little window panes above the door handle.

     Pulling pulled a handkerchief from his backpack, he wound it around his hand. With one quick ‘pop’, he knocked out the bottom pane. Carefully he stuck his hand through the pane and slowly opened the door. Working hard to avoid stepping on the broken glass inside, he found himself in what appeared to have been an old mini-kitchen, maybe for workers to have coffee or eat lunch.

     The light dimmed the further he went into the building. He entered a large, gloomy space that looked like a packing area of sorts for manufacturing. At the far end of the building where the metal roll-up doors were, he could see stacks of boxes. These looked new.

     Still hearing nothing, he worked his way back to the rear of the big room. The boxes were all about 2’ x 3′ wide and stacked on top of each other. They were all fairly new with a bunch of writing on the side. He examined the writing – Spanish. He could easily see where the dust had been disturbed all around the boxes and leading to the doors. It looked like they might been moved here by truck. On the side were heavy wooden shelves and he could see several used containers of food from a fast-food take out place. Mama Rosas was printed on an empty bag.

Maybe that was why that kid was here, he thought to himself, delivering dinner to someone.

     He went over to the boxes and found they were sealed with packing tape. It looked like from the picture on the side they were packages of kitchen baking soda. He saw one box that had been opened and he went over and poked his nose in. Boxes and boxes of light orange boxes were stacked inside advertising the benefits of Salvo’s Home Baking Soda. Danny was mystified.

     Why ship out boxes of Mexican baking soda here, was the duty or tax on this stuff that high? He shook his head. It made no sense. He picked up a box and shook it and could feel the heavy powder moving back and forth inside.

     I wonder, he thought. He pulled out his old Navy multi-purpose knife and got out the smallest, thinnest blade. He slipped it carefully into the top edge of the box, hoping that it would look like an accidental cut from packing. Making a thin slice, he shook some powder in his hand. He licked one finger and tasted a tiny bit of the powder. Phew! He spit it out, cocaine! No doubt about it. He was putting the box back into the cardboard box when he heard a noise in front of the metal roll-up door. Someone was coming!

     He shoved the soda back into the box and ripped his shoes off so he wouldn’t make any noise running through the warehouse. He beat it back to the little door, slipped his shoes back on and crept out of the door. He ducked down and worked his way back to the front of the building keeping below the level of the windows.

     It was dark by now but there was no other way off the property other than the front gate. The back of the lot faced the train tracks and there was no through way. He got to the corner of the building and with his heart in his mouth, peeked around the corner.

     Surprise, surprise. Mr. Teardrop was standing behind a black pickup truck and unloading more boxes into the warehouse. He was working with another guy and they were talking to each other in Spanish. His fancy clothes were gone and he was working in a black t-shirt, the same black pants and the cowboy boots.

     Danny sucked in his breath and waited until both of them were busy in the warehouse with boxes. He moved quickly to the fence and kept to the shadows while he beat a path out of the lot and back to the station. He felt sure they had not seen him.

     Back at the station he jumped on the next train to Davis and finally relaxed into a seat. He realized his heart was pounding. His instincts about this guy were right and he still didn’t want to have a mano-a-mano conflict with the dude. God knows what he would pull out of one of those boots. A little shiver went down Danny’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was excitement or fear. Ah, well, he looked forward to getting home.

     Next morning he was in the watch commander’s office getting chewed out.

     “You did what! When, while on duty! Tell me you are kidding me.”

     Roosevelt, the watch commander, an overweight middle-aged man of about fifty was getting progressively redder and redder in the face.

     “What would make you even contemplate doing such a stupid thing?” he demanded.

     Danny put his hands up in an imploring manner. “He has been riding this same train for months and never seems to have the usual stuff with him that most people carry and he always gets off at the same stop.”

     “He doesn’t carry the usual stuff, the usual stuff!” Commander Roosevelt seemed to be speechless. “Well, maybe we can match him up with my wife someday. She carries enough stuff for three people!”

     Daniel Davies sat quietly, his hands folded in his lap. He had given his report of what he had found and the suspicions he had been having for some time. It was up to the commander now. The train company had been transporting this guy back and forth to his drug drop now for several months.

     “You know what you are like, Davis?” the commander asked belligerently.

     “No sir,” was the reply.

     “You are like that ball of lint under my bed that keeps rolling around and collects other pieces of lint and just keeps getting bigger and bigger.”

     “Yes, sir,” was the reply.

     “That and a royal pain in my ass, is what you are.” Commander clutched his coffee cup so hard Danny was afraid he was going to break it. The man sat there in a brown study for several minutes.

     “Ok, this is what we will do,” he finally spoke. “You will call the LAPD and get hold of the drug division and get hold of a detective, someone with some authority. Got me?” he said with hostility. “You will make your report to them and then ask them what it is they want us to do. Thereafter, I want you to fill out your incident, report to me with their recommendations, and I want it back on my desk by morning, am I clear?”

     “Absolutely sir,” Danny replied.

     “And don’t go off doing anything else dumb on company time because I am the one who will have to fill out the report and I hate filling out reports. Right!”
     “Right sir.” Danny grabbed his cap and practically backed out of the room into the door which the secretary had just opened.
     “And what’s wrong with you?” she wanted to know. Danny didn’t answer and kept going.                                                                                                                                                                                                                          #
     Danny made his report to LAPD and was assigned to Detective Sergeant Terrence Dillon.
“So, did you actually see this guy, you made eye contact with him yourself?” Dillon wanted to know.
     “Yep, several times actually. He would end up in my train cars somehow over and over again and then always get off at the Sacramento station.”

     “So, you called me, why?” was Dillon’s question.

     “The seat designation indicates he got onboard at the Los Angeles train depot and that is your area.”

     “True, true,” Dillon replied. Danny didn’t mention the news conference he had just seen on the TV the week before.

     “You know this guy’s name?”

     “No, I don’t but I know how we can get it.”

     “I’m listening,” the detective said.

     Danny told him the plan.

     “You think you can do this without making him suspicious? I don’t want any dead conductors on my case.”

     “I think so,” Danny told him of the surveillance projects he had done in the Navy. The detective seemed impressed.

     The next day, Danny had his report done and typed up and on the commander’s desk. Roosevelt came in with his first cup of coffee and scowled but said nothing and said down heavily in his swivel chair. He picked up the report and read and Danny sat and waited.

     “Ok, so this is what he wants you to do right?”

     “That is it, get the guy’s name.”

     “Damn it, Davies,” the commander huffed. “Can you do this without getting into any fights with this guy?”

     “Absolutely sir, no problem,” was the calm response.

     “I don’t like it but take Franklin to be your backup man and no cowboy stuff, right!”

     “Right sir, no cowboys, just a little info and that’s it.”

     The commander huffed, and wiped the coffee off his walrus style mustache.

     “Call me as soon as you get it.”

     “Will do, sir.”

      Danny got hold of the Frump and gave him the skinny on operation Teardrop.

     “No kid,” Franklin looked amazed. “Cocaine?”

    Danny confirmed it.

    “Wow, drugs on the train. I never.”

    “Anyway, Franklin, you understand what we are going to do right?”

     Frumpy gulped, “Got it. We will be on the lookout for Tear Drop and if he is not in your car, I or another conductor will call you on the walkie-talkie and you will come and punch the tickets for the car where he is sitting.”

     “Right,” said Danny. “Don’t bother talking to him or trying to engage with him or he will get suspicious and jump the train.”

     Frumpy nodded nervously, “No engagements, got it.”

    Danny laughed and hit his friend on the shoulder, “I’ll be doing all the tough stuff, relax.”

     The Frump didn’t look relaxed a bit.                                                                     #                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   It was two days later that Danny got the call from Franklin. “He’s up here dude.”

     “On my way,” was the curt response.

     He started at the front of the cabin as he always did and slowly made his way back to Tear Drop, not rushing, not in a hurry and talking to the passengers as usual. He got to Tear Drop and paused and reached up to the card above the seat and frowned.

     “Hum,” he said thoughtfully, “sorry, sir, looks like I may have to check your ticket one more time. You don’t mind?” and he smiled the big smile.

     “No esta problema, man,” the Hispanic guy replied. “Whatever you want, you got it, heh?” He pulled the ticket out of the back pocket of his jeans and smiled so his gold tooth showed.

     Danny scanned the ticket with the meter machine and it clicked that the memory had taken.

     “Gracias senor,” he nodded cordially and handed back the ticket.

     The man smiled again and put his ticket away. “De nada.”

     Danny moved on and collected the rest of the tickets from the remaining passengers. As soon as he was done with the car he made his way without haste to the downstairs mini office and pulled up the meter memory.

     “Jose Gonzalez Gonzalez. Original at least,” he said to Frumpy.

    “You got it, right?” whispered a nervous Ted.

   “Yes, I got it.” Danny smacked his partner on the shoulder. “Relax.”

     He got on the phone and called the commander and gave all the details on when, where and how the ticket was purchased and the man’s name.

“Ok,” Roosevelt replied. “We’ll get on it to get his id info. And remember, smart college boy, no funny stuff with this guy. He sounds dangerous.” Danny promised to be good and hung up the phone.

It was then up to the two of them to go back to their jobs just like nothing had ever happened.                                                                         #

     It was two weeks later that the Commander called Davies back into his office.
He appeared and his boss waved him to a chair without ceremony. He sat down, crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap.

    “Okay,” the Commander said as though they were continuing a conversation.

    “Here’s this.” He handed over a letter from the Sacramento Police Department and it was a Witness Request form addressed to David Daniel Davies c/o of Pacific Railroad Company requesting his attendance at a suspect lineup.

     “So,” Roosevelt huffed, “they want you to go.”

     “Okay,” Danny replied.

     “I think you should take Franklin too since he also saw the guy.”

     “Okay,” said Danny slowly waiting for what else was coming.

    “Davies,” the Commander started. “Davies…I’m not happy about this.”

   “We were just doing our duty sir,” Danny said sincerely.

     “I don’t care,” replied Roosevelt, “this guy is a Mexican National, a professional criminal. Damn it, the passport he gave our people was fake!”
     Danny nodded.

     “Someone could have gotten hurt with all this nonsense,” the Commander seemed to be running out of steam.

     “People were getting hurt sir,” Danny’s said quietly. “They were selling top grade cocaine out of that warehouse. Lots of people get hurt with that stuff.”

     Roosevelt stroked his mustache and avoided eye contact. “Well…” He seemed to be hunting for something to add to what he had already said. “In the future can you just try to keep your nose out of other people’s business? Try?”

      “Yes sir,” Danny got up to go and almost gave a military style salute but stopped himself in time. Instead he gave a short quasi-salute and left.                                                                                    #

     Later that evening, Danny and Frumpy were lingering at the entrance of Lupe’s. They were trying to figure out how to tie up the Frumps cocker spaniel so they could go in the restaurant.      “I told you not to bring the dog,” Danny was irritable.      “She misses me,” the Frump countered with a pout.      Suddenly, the front door swung open and the cook came out and walked over to Danny.

     “Is okay man, I talk to her.”

     “Her?” Danny was confused.

     “My cousin, Randi. The one you got you eye on all the time.”

     “I, I, I never….” Danny was stumbling around in his own defense.

     “Is okay, Man. I tell her you too old for her and plus,” he leaned really close, “and you gay.”

     “What, what…..where did you get that from?” Danny was really starting to get annoyed now.

     The cook pointed his finger down at Frumpy, Frumpy’s cocker spaniel and then shrugged his shoulders like to say “The facts speak for themselves.”

     Danny’s mouth was still open when the cook turned to go back in the kitchen. “Is okay, man, you know. Is a new day.” He winked at Danny and disappeared.

     Danny was mumbling to himself when he went in and sat down. Randi appeared and carefully laid down a menu in front of him.

     “And what will you two be having tonight, sir?” she asked quite formally.
     Danny sighed and opened the menu. The End

Read more of Courtney’s writing in:
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