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Hey, Pampa, What’s for Supper?

Margie and I are having two of my best friends, Christine and Susan, over for dinner tonight. Here’s the fare (from left) shrimp pasta with sesame oil, dill/cucumber yogurt, peanuts, peppers and spices; specialty tomatoes with cucumbers, asparagus and lemon; Indian spinach; and curry  chicken breast. There is also a lovely fresh raisin/cinnamon bread in the oven and herbal green iced tea.

Susan, Margie and Christine prepare for the feast.
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Bernie: Trump Wants To Be Emperor

Yes, Bernie can smile.

“What he wants is to end up as leader of a nation that has moved a significant degree towards authoritarianism; where the president of the United States has extraordinary powers, far more than our constitution has provided for.” –Bernie Sanders on Donald Trump

Reporter Ed Pilkington of one of the world’s best newspapers, The Guardian of Manchester, England, had a piece Friday on Bernie Sanders that stands as a warning to the American people about their president.

Bernie, for many people–including this one–is the voice of reason in an unreasonable age, a man who says the emperor has no clothes at a level where even Trump’s supporters listen because they trust and respect Sanders. He’s a 75-year-old plain-spoken socialist who has been in the U.S. Senate for many years, always telling the truth, rarely being noticed until Trump and Clinton came along.

Sanders was one of the major casualties of this most recent presidential election, probably the most crooked in American history (and we really know how to run crooked elections) and maybe the first where the outcome was in the hands of an arch-enemy outside our borders.

Sanders is blunt in his assessment: “These are very scary times for the people of the United States, and … for the whole world. We have a president who is a pathological liar. Trump lies all of the time. He lies in order to undermine the foundations of American democracy.”

That Trump’s entire presidency is based on overthrowing the government of the United States and installing himself as Fuehrer is clear to all but the most ardent Trump supporters–the ones who would have passionately given the straight-armed salute in 1933.

Many of Trump’s “supporters” admit that their vote for him was more against the status-quo, against Hillary Clinton, against lying, cheating and stealing by government officials. But what they did was to institutionalize that corruption and bring it out into the clear light of day.

Trump goes to no length at all to hide his efforts to enrich himself with the office of the presidency; he has made no effort to honor tradition in his appointments or his executive orders. He takes lavish vacations at his own resorts and charges us millions of dollars for them. He maintains a home in NYCity that must be guarded night and day (because his wife doesn’t live with him) and that is paid for by New Yorkers.

He is systematically supporting the destruction of the environment, the elimination of government sponsored health care for the population, protections for workers, a livable wage, free and open elections, equality for all our citizens, respect for citizens of other lands.

Sanders sees an opening: “When Republicans now are literally afraid to hold public meetings – some of them are arguing, ‘Oh my God, we are afraid of security issues!’ – that tells me they know that the American people are prepared to stand up and fight.” We’re seeing that in the 6th and 9th Districts of the U.S. House where Bob Goodlatte and Morgan Griffith are hiding under their beds, doing everything possible to avoid meeting with their constituents–many of whom are furious.

Sanders says bluntly: “In moments of crisis, what has happened, time and time again … people [of the U.S.] have stood up and fought back. So despair is absolutely not an option.”

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Photos: A Quiet, Uneventful St. Paddy’s Parade

Little Paddys enjoy their day in the sun.
Beth Deel on stilts.

It was St. Patrick’s Day a little early this year and that was just about the most significant news at a (thankfully) uneventful parade, the first from Downtown Roanoke Inc. in a while.

There was reason to celebrate today because Roanoke’s popular parade was recently rated as the 8th best in the entire country. Didn’t look that way today with a crowd that seemed both down and unenthusiastic.

Maybe it was the weather. After a February that felt more like April, this parade began at 11 a.m. with temperatures in the 30s and a steady wind to keep the sun’s warmth at a minimum.

Still, it was a parade–one Roanoke likes a lot–and there was plenty of fun amid the commercialism.

For the first time in a while, the presence of the Confederate battle flag proved a non-issue, mostly because nobody sought to make it a spectacle (see previous post).

Every year at this time, I miss my grandgirl, Madeline, because this was her parade. She was born March 17, 2005 and always thought the parade was for her (I assured her it was).

Happy birthday, Maddie. Your goodie is on the way.

Even the beer is Irish.
Tu-tus and red hair.
Hi, dog.
The Irishman with no face.
Gussied up in green.
Political statement? Who knows?
Redhead of the day.
Tailgating is legal at St. Patrick’s Parade.
Five minutes before parade and crowd was light.
It felt like early March.
Drum major.
Only her hairdresser knows for sure.
Hey, you’re on TV!
Stacked watchers.
VT cameraman walks past the assembled crowd.
The judges seemed to be having a good time.
What’s a parade without Kazim?
You take the high road and I’ll take the low road …
Sneaking a peek.
Even the homeless are welcome.
Bang the drum slowly …
This Buchanan kilt is my family’s. Ugly, huh?
My friend Anne Sampson makes a face at her photo.
There’s a baby in there.
These two skipped the parade in favor of lunch.
Little beauty queens scramble …
… to get in their convertible seats …
… and smile.
Mom and the kids had a good time.
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Photos: Rebels Ride in Parade (Quietly)

There was one Confederate battle flag in the parade and it was not out of place.

The Roanoke Valley’s 8th-ranked nationally St. Patrick’s Day Parade went off without a flap about the presence of the Confederate battle flag today, which is something of an accomplishment. The 28th Infantry of the Sons of Confederate Veterans had a modest presence (and just one battle flag) in the parade and all was quiet.

The flag had become a major issue in Downtown Roanoke Inc.’s (the sponsor) Christmas parade in 2016 with some renegades on horseback causing a stir and bringing out the police. All was quiet today, though and the display, three guys marching and a three old people riding in costume on a float behind a pickup truck, was definitely there.

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Photos: One More Time for the Roanoke Valley Vikings

These Viking princesses are authentic, even with the lipstick (below).

The Vikings of the Roanoke Valley were once again a big attraction at Roanoke’s St. Patrick’s Day Parade, but it looks like this will be the last time. Jeffrey Rigdon, who heads the group, said earlier today that participation has become a political game he doesn’t want to play.

That leads back to the Christmas Parade when the Vikings were asked to take part, says my old pal, in order to negate the entrance of a rogue Civil War group–which marched anyway. Jeff says he felt like Downtown Roanoke Inc. used him to help keep that group out.

Jeff Rigdon, my pal.

In any case, the Vikings are the group that adopted my grandgirl Madeline a few years ago and led us all to begin calling the parade the “St. Maddie’s Day Parade,” since Maddie thought it was thrown for her.

It was good to see Jeff and to hear that his special wife Charisse and their baby are back in town and getting ready to set up housekeeping again.

Madeline rode the ship many times.
Yes, Vikings kiss.
Chain mail and blue eyes.
An authentic Scandinavian look.
Dude looks like a football player.
Ready for battle.
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This Is Your President, In His Own Words

A group called the Halt Action Group, noting Donald Trump’s comment on National Woman’s Day a couple of days ago, has created a poster that probably better expresses Trump’s true intent toward women. It is reproduced here as a reminder of what a Renaissance man Trump truly is.

The poster was created by painter Marilyn Minter, curator Alison Gingeras and graffiti artist KATSU.

 

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If This is Winter, I’ll Take It

The forecast for Sunday in Roanoke: Snow. The forecast for today: Cherry blossoms in my back yard.

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Writers and ‘Real Fake News,” an Essay

Hayleigh Worgan and Sandee McGlaunn act out Dwayne Yancey’s play.

Tonight’s Words3 readings at the Roanoke Symphony facility in downtown offered an opportunity for writers to tell what they know of Roanoke–in any way they wanted.

And they did: poetry, prose, theater and my essay called “Real Fake News.” There was some pretty good stuff, whether Dwayne Yancey’s play-lette on the Mill Mountain Star, cancer survivor Sandee McGlaun’s touching remembrance “Fall, in Love,” Amanda Wright’s poetry or magazine editor Hayleigh Worgam’s contribution from her book.

I’m going to give you my essay because I like it; it’s funny’; it’s topical; it’s true (mostly); it’s irreverent; and it’s my blog. Here goes:

That’s me reading this.

Real Fake News

By Dan Smith

There was a time when newspaper reporters had a good time, when newsrooms were smoky, loud, vulgar and full of practical jokes. Reporters weren’t job-scared and profits ran around 15 percent. The president didn’t believe we were a threat to democracy and nobody even contemplated fake news—well, almost nobody.

I worked in one of those newspapers in downtown Roanoke, on the corner of Campbell Ave. and First Street. This was the morning Roanoke Times, counter to its sister Roanoke World-News, the evening paper. Circulation was about 100,000 in the morning and 35,000 or 40,000 in the evening. Our papers—and I worked for both of them—hit most of the doorsteps in Roanoke and environs and even went well into the coal fields and up the Shenandoah Valley. People liked us, liked to bitch about us, liked to read us with their coffee in the morning.

Writer Dwayne Yancey acting cool.

I began in the sports department, joining 10 other reporters at The Times who had served time at the Asheville Citizen-Times, which was earning a reputation as a farm club for the Roanoke paper. It was also in my hometown. The fraternity was pretty intense among us and it made adjusting to another city easy, though it would not have been difficult in any case, since that was the nature of reporters then. They were not anal retentive.

The sports department was an especially jovial place, busy at night and on game nights, furious. Tuesdays and Fridays during basketball season and Fridays during football season would wind us all up and we’d put out four editions—each different—in about two hours, filled with high school game results. Saturdays, we did college sports pretty much the same way, except that a lot of the reports came from AP, our own staff writers or college PR departments phoning us. I was often on the desk, taking those reports and writing them at a brisk pace. Fridays, I was the prep editor and most often covered a game, rushed back to write it if it wasn’t out of town, then manned the phones, writing 10 to 15 more shorter reports.

When the rush ended, we were all happy-talk exhausted and probably needed a beer, which we couldn’t have. That’s where the practical jokes started.

It was probably the late fall of 1972 or ’73 when the first one happened. High school basketball season had just begun and I suggested we call in a fake game to the Citizen-Times. I was fresh enough out of there to remember who was who and what might be believable. I suggested to Newton Spencer, a copy editor and layout guy, that he be the coach at North Carolina School for the Deaf calling in its game with Drexel High School—both about 40 miles from Asheville—and that this game was to be a shutout. Shutouts don’t happen in basketball, but we were going to do invent one anyway.

Cara Modisett introduces the program.

Newton made up a bunch of names for the box score—each funnier than the last and not a one of them believable: Doug Out, Tank Topper, Andy One, Shot Blocker, and on and one. The score was 42-0, NCSD and the game had no fouls for either team. Newton took on the personae of the deaf school coach and even affected the speech pattern of one who might have been born deaf. It never occurred to the young reporter in Asheville that they were talking on the phone and that the coach likely would not have been able to hear him if he’d been a real coach and a real deaf person.

Newton said the guy taking the call was beside himself with excitement and took down Newton’s quotes like he was talking to the governor. About five of us were in the background in Roanoke snickering almost uncontrollably as Newton said, “Yes, sir, this is our first shutout in years. Drexel played a great game and we’re really impressed with their outstanding players and their coach’s game plan. Good people over there. Our boys played their butts off, but we got some things we need to work on with our defense.”

Amanda Wright reads her poem.

The next night, I called my brother in Asheville and asked if he’d seen the report on the shutout and he hadn’t, so we figured somebody in the department checked and found out the story was made up. Sunday evening when I got to work, there was a message that my brother called. Paul said, “That damn story was the lead in Sunday’s sports section. Apparently, you called it in too late for them to make the home edition Saturday, so it ran all four editions Sunday. I can’t believe you guys. Don’t you have jobs?”

‘Course, we’re all in the floor, but Newton called us around him saying, “Shut up a minute. We can’t say anything about this. We’ll all get fired.” And we didn’t. For years. But we did it again in the spring.

Hayleigh Worgan reads from her book.

This time, we called in the resignation of the Salem Pirates manager to WSLS television and a sports editor named Larry, whose last name escapes me. I remember him as the very definition of a dweeb: short, pudgy, balding, high voice, excitable, lots of green and yellow plaid.

We called Larry at 10:55, five minutes before the news aired at 11. Again Newton was on the phone as the Pirates’ PR guy. “Sorry to call so late, but this just happened,” he said urgently. “John Lipon was so pissed off at our loss tonight that he quit. He’s not even riding the team bus back to Salem.” The team was in Kinston for a three-game series and we reported it had just lost the third straight, this one 15-0. Lipon was something of a hothead—and a good manager—so this was not beyond the realm of the possible.

Newton hung up at 11 o’clock on the nose and Larry had his story. The whole sports department raced out to the news room where there were three TVs—all on different local 11 o’clock news shows—and we gathered around the middle one where the opening music was playing and the camera showed the three anchors, news, weather and sports. It zoomed in on the news guy who announced in dulcet tones, “Tonight’s lead story is from sports, where there are big doin’s from Kinston, North Carolina. What do you have, Larry?”

Larry’s bald head filled the screen and his high adolescent voice says, “Well, Mel, as everybody knows, the Salem Pirates are locked in a losing streak and tonight they lost 15-0 to the powerful Kinston Indians, a team often accused of planting ringers in this class A league. But that’s not the big news. Following the game, Pirates manager John Lipon walked off the field, got into a car and drove off after telling the general manager he was done. More later in the newscast.” We were beside ourselves, causing quite a ruckus in the newsroom. The assistant managing editor, Ed Freakley, yelled, “Would you children get back to the toy store and keep it down!”

Fifteen minutes later, when his segment began, we were gathered at the TV again. Larry didn’t mention the Pirates, Lipon or anything else about Salem baseball. Once again, the whole sports department, in unison, fell over on the floor, howling and holding our sides.

Channel 10 Larry never mentioned the incident again, not even to correct it. I guess he figured nobody was paying attention. And maybe they weren’t. Fake news hadn’t been invented yet.

 

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Warner Comeback Based on Russia Investigation

Virginia Sen. Mark Warner

Sen. Mark Warner of Virginia, whose star rose brilliantly a few years ago, then took a nosedive about 2014, seems to be on the rise again. The NYTimes has a piece today detailing the reasons for that new interest in the centrist Democrat–one of two representing Virginia–here.

Warner is the top Democrat on a Senate committee looking into Russian spying and attempts at influencing the Trump election (it appears with Trump’s help). If he is successful, that elusive run for the presidency could well be revived. If he fails, re-election to the Senate might be problematic.

I’ve known Mark for a long time and he’s a bulldog when it comes to getting what he wants, even in an institution as hide-bound and slow as the Senate. He’s facing a committee chairman who openly and loudly supports Trump, but Mark has a tendency to make friends with the enemy and I see that as the case here. It will be interesting to see how much influence he has in a Congress totally controlled by the opposition party.

Virginia colleague Sen. Tim Kaine is quoted as saying, “I’ve never seen him seized by a responsibility as much as he is now. He’s a man on a mission.”

Warner calls the current crusade “probably the most important thing I’ve done in public life.”

I hope he succeeds. Our form of government could well hinge on it.

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The Kaine-Holton Tradition Continues

Woody Kaine

Woody Kaine, the son of Virginia Senator (and VP nominee last year) Tim Kaine, has been arrested for rioting at an anti-Trump event (March4Trump) and daddy is proud of his young’un. As he should be.

The Kaines and Holtons of Virginia are a notable family on a number of levels. You know about Kaine and his wondrous wife, Anne, the Virginia Secretary of Education and may remember that Linwood Holton (for whom Woody is named) was a Republican governor back when Republicans were still Americans. Linwood sent his children to newly-integrated public schools in the 1970s and opposed nutjob Republican gubernatorial candidates like Oliver North later.

Tim Kaine is quoted by the Washington Post as saying, “We love that our three children have their own views and concerns about current political issues. They fully understand the responsibility to express those concerns peacefully.” Tim’s brother Nat is a Marine and his sister Annella is in college. They are all sharp and independent.

From the video I’ve seen, the “riot” was hardly that and I’ve seen (and been in) real riots. This was more of a disagreeable dust-up with cops pretending we live in a police state.

Some years ago, when my son was in college and was serving his second year as president of his fraternity, the national governing board of Delta Tau Delta got pissed off at him because he thought there were far more important goals (like helping freshmen adjust to college, working in the community) for the frat to be involved in than homecoming floats. The governing board disagreed and fired Evan. Most of the fraternity left with my son. I was never more proud of him. I love it when kids spit in the face of unreasonable authority.