Scary times

Halloween is just around the corner, complete with all of its ghosts, goblins, monsters and mayhem.

Sounds suspiciously like the pending midterm elections, doesn't it? Hmm. Maybe there's more relevance here between the two events than meets the eye.

We've been dealing with the mayhem for quite a while now. The benchmark date, of course, is the assault on the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2020 as President Trump watched approvingly of the chaos on television. I will suggest the mayhem actually began on Trump's Inauguration day, launched by his "American carnage" speech when, in fact, there was nothing close to carnage in the country. Turns out, his speech was a portend of things to come throughout his administration:

• The mishandling of Covid, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Americans.
• The denial of the results of a free and fair election.
• Tax breaks for the rich.
• Separation of families of immigrants at the border.
• Dismantling of environmental controls.
• Disparaging NATO, which consequently opened the door for Russia's invasion of Ukraine, which has ultimately led – directly and indirectly – to global inflation.
• Limiting voter rights.
• Taking away a woman's right for autonomy over her own body.
• Carnage.
  

The mayhem continues right up to Friday's attack on Paul Pelosi, the husband of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. Some Republicans have taken light of the attack (see Virginia Governor Glenn Youngkin, who heartlessly politicised the attack), which seems to be a standard reflection of Republicans' stance on political violence – unless it happens to them. It's repulsive to find humor in the physical attack of an 82-year-old man, resulting in a fractured skull, during a home invasion. Republican rhetoric on violence is incredibly transactional.

So now we're on the verge of the midterm elections. Republicans, eager to sow doubt of our democracy, are already claiming voter fraud in several states before ballots have even been counted. Here we go again.

Polling suggests races are neck-and-neck across the country, mostly due to what is perceived to be a poor economy, even though more jobs – 6.5 million – have been created than ever before. 

Under the current Democratic administration, legislative success in an evenly split Congress has been amazing: the Inflation Reduction Act alone puts a cap on prescription drugs at $2,000 a year; Medicare will pay $35 a month for insulin; and a minimum corporate tax rate to pay for it all (which is why the government needs 87,000 IRS workers to serve as accountants, not gun-bearing agents. Sheesh).

This administration has also improved health care for veterans; signed the CHIPS and Science Act to bring jobs back to the US; and action to address gun violence in this country.

So why would you vote against that? Wouldn't you be voting against your own best interests? Of course you would.

If the economy is your primary concern, keep in mind economies almost always eventually recover. Also keep in mind that the only useful tool in the box is to raise interest rates to control spending. There are no buttons a president can push to magically end inflation. The Great Depression of the 1930s eventually ended. So did the recession of the 1980s. 

But losing your democracy may be forever.

And that's pretty scary.

 

Picking Astros; pulling for Phillies

 I know. That headline above this blog makes absolutely no sense. Until it does.

It's like I'm trying to have it both ways on the eve of the World Series.

But let me explain.

As noted in an earlier blog, I've been a Phillies fan since at least 1964. I lived (and died) through the team's legendary late-season collapse that year, but I also celebrated World Series championships in 1980 and 2008. I bleed Phillies red (I guess we all do when you think about it. What a fan base).

The fact that the Phillies made it to the World Series, which begins Friday night in Houston, is nothing short of amazing. They are the sixth and final seed from Major League Baseball's new and expanded playoff system, and it's the only reason they're in the playoffs to begin with. They finished the regular season in third place in the NL East Division with a mediocre 87-75 record, qualified for the playoffs on the second to the last day of the year, and then got hot at exactly the right time by knocking off the Cardinals, Braves and Padres in the playoffs.

The Phillies are 9-2 in the postseason, which I suppose you could say improves their record to 96-77.

Meanwhile, the Astros are undefeated in the playoffs and won 106 games in the regular season to become the top seed from the American league.

The Astros have been hot all year long. They're built for the long haul and quite possibly for the postseason. They've been a very good team for at least five years, when they won their first World Series title in 2017 and added three more American League pennants since then. They are currently in the middle of a dynasty.

They have a manager, Dusty Baker, who is beloved and has won more than 2,000 games in a long and glorious career. But he's never managed a World Series winner. This makes him a sentimental favorite for many baseball insiders and fans.

On paper, Houston wins the statistical matchup, especially from their bullpen. Their starter on Friday, Justin Verlander, is favored to win the Cy Young Award. He'll go against Philly's Aaron Nola, who can be great on any given night – or not so great.

In the face of what could be a colossal mismatch – hey, the Astros just swept the Yankees, for crying out loud – the Phillies are just fun to watch. They can get massive home runs from bombers like Bryce Harper, Rhys Hoskins or Kyle Schwarber in one moment, or they can kick the ball around like an American Legion baseball team the next. Which is why they have to hit homers.

Houston is also seeking redemption, of sorts, for its sign-stealing scandal in 2017 when it beat the Los Angeles Dodgers in the World Series. It's a charge they can't quite shake, kind of like Tom Brady and the New England Patriots Deflate-gate and Spygate episodes, which will seemingly follow them for generations. 

Harper's two-run homer in the bottom of the eighth inning in the fifth game of the NLCS might be the most clutch homer I've ever seen from a Phillie, and that includes decades of watching Mike Schmidt hitting dingers. So there.

I think it's imperative that the Phillies get a split in one of their first two games in Houston, then bring the Series back to Philadelphia where they can feed off the fans for three games. If they can't get a split, it could be quick work by the Astros.

So my brain says the Astros win this thing in five. Maybe even four.

But my heart says the Phillies in seven, which means they have to win at least one game in Houston, and more likely, two. They have to stay hot. They have to be lucky. And they have to have heart.

Go Phillies.

 

My friends get married

Not everyone gets to come full circle in their winding journey through life.

My friend Donnie Roberts did, though.

 

Kay and Donnie perform their vows.

Yesterday. Righteously. At the Barbecue Festival. In front of hundreds of people.

Donnie married his longtime friend, Kay Gibson, on the Grand Stand Stage immediately following the opening ceremonies for the 38th Annual Barbecue Festival.

Full circle?

Donnie was the photographer for The Dispatch for nearly 30 years before his job was unceremoniously displaced in a bottom-line maneuver by the corporate ownership of Gannett/Gatehouse. But during those years, he documented every barbecue festival this town has had from his arrival in 1990 up until his job was eliminated in 2020.

That meant climbing up on the Main Stage for some iconic photographs of the festival's top performers, including acts like Montgomery Gentry and Darius Rucker, to name a few.

Sharing of the Sandwich.

But yesterday, the stage was his. He and Kay owned it for 20 minutes or so as Dr. Rev. Lee Jessup officiated. It was all theirs. It was wonderful. 

There were two really neat moments. The first came when Rev. Jessup asked Donnie if he would take Kay as his lawfully wedded wife. Donnie promptly cupped his hand around his mouth and emphatically proclaimed to the crowd, "I do!" No microphone was needed.

The second moment came when, after the "I do's" were done, Rev. Jessup presented them with a barbecue sandwich. Of course he did. Donnie and Kay each shared a bite at the same time, essentially sealing the deal. I'm not quite sure if eating a barbecue sandwich is a sacrament of the church, but it did seem like a version of holy communion in a festival where barbecue is considered sacrosanct. Good job.

Just an added note here. Kay has been my wife's hairdresser for nearly 40 years, so Kim has actually known Kay longer than I've known Donnie. It could be that Kim and I have known Donnie and Kay – collectively, at least – longer than anybody.

And so, our friends were married.

There was a nifty back story to all of this, too.

Years ago, Donnie served as the Maid, er, Man, er, Maid of Honor at the wedding of his good friend Whitney Brooks. Yesterday, Whitney reciprocated when she served as Donnie's Best Man, er, Woman, er, Man.

"When he asked me to be his best man," said Brooks, "I didn't think twice about it. Of course I would."

And so, the circle was made full.

 

Why they play the games

Okay. Those who know me know that I'm still floating a couple of feet off the ground after the sixth-seeded Philadelphia Phillies somehow eliminated the second-seeded Atlanta Braves in their best-of-5 National League Division Series Saturday with an 8-3 victory.

I manage the Phillies into the NLCS.

 That puts the Phillies in the National League Championship Series against the San Diego Padres, who are seemingly playing in a parallel baseball universe with the Phils. The fifth-seeded Padres knocked out the top-seeded Dodgers 5-3 last night with a five-run seventh inning eruption.

I've been a Phillies fan since 1963. That was the year we moved from East Hartford, CT. (where I was a 12-year-old Yankees fan) to Bethlehem, PA., (an hour outside of Philly), because Dad was entering into Moravian Theological Seminary to become a minister.

It wasn't hard for me to become a Phillies fan back then because in 1964, it looked like the team was on its way to winning a pennant – until it wasn't. The Phillies led the league for most of the season until their epic collapse in the final weeks, featuring a 10-game losing streak in their last 12 games. That's when I learned what it meant to be a Phillies fan.

In fact, about a decade or so ago, the Phillies became the first franchise of any sport to lose 10,000 total games in its history, dating back back to 1883 (which, in its defense, also makes it the longest existing single-city sports franchise in the country).

Anyway, the "Phold," as it's been called, has become a distant memory to us Phanatics, thanks to World Series championships in 1980 and 2008. But believe me, the "Phold" is still hiding there in the dark recesses of our thought processes, knowing disaster can strike at any moment. It's in our Phillies DNA.

(Notes: I was born in Allentown, PA., so, yes, I was born with the Philadelphia DNA in my system. It stays with me no matter where I live. Go Eagles. Go Flyers. Go Sixers).

This year has been a little different, though.

Major League Baseball expanded its playoff system this season with another level of competition, adding a third wild-card team. If it wasn't for that, the Phillies wouldn't even have qualified for the playoffs this year. They would have been just another third-place team with a mediocre 87-75 record in a 162-game season.

Think about that for a moment. Eighty-seven victories is only six games over .500. Meanwhile, teams like the Dodgers (111 victories), the Mets (101) and the Braves (101) were dominating the regular season. Atlanta, in fact, was on a path to defending the World Series championship that it won last year.

Then the playoffs arrived and we entered the realm of the mystical.

When baseball expanded and divided itself into divisional play, a new format was required to determine a league champion. So the playoffs were born in 1995. The playoffs provided a different kind of excitement and tension. A long season for those who qualified became a short season. And the playoffs extended the season from early October to mid-October.

There is an inherent weakness to the playoff system, however. The best team doesn't always win. Sometimes it's the team that's the hottest in that particular moment. Witness the Phillies (87 victories). Witness the Padres (89).

But you know what? I don't care. It's why we play the games. So now I'm rooting desperately for a team that fired its manager, Joe Giardi, two months into the season when they were 22-29. I'm rooting for a team that had the fourth-worst bullpen in the league. I'm rooting for a team that sometimes plays defense like it's playing with live hand grenades. I'm rooting for a team with one of the strangest names in sports.

I may smoke one of these if we win the World Series.

(OK, time for a break. I used to think "Phillies" was a bad cigar. I used to think, as a child, that the cigars were actually affiliated with the team, because the name "Phillies" was printed in block letters like many baseball teams use.

 Then, upon further investigation, I learned that cricket was very popular in the northeast states back in the 1860s, and Philadelphia had a team called "The Philadelphians." Try putting that on a uniform. Or in a headline. Somewhere along the way, between 1866 and 1883, the Philadelphians became the Phillies, which referred to a person who was a resident of Philadelphia. If that's true, then it's suddenly one of the most logical, appropriate and politically correct team name in sports.)

So here I am, still in a moment of shock because of my low expectations. I'm donning my Phillies cap again and alternating with wearing a couple of lucky Phillies related t-shirts. I'm still anxious because of 1964 but I'm still hopeful because of 1980 and 2008. I'm exchanging texts with several of my friends who live in Pennsylvania.

I'm ready to go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Th

Hershel Walker's GOP

After hearing the news that Georgia U.S. Senate candidate Hershel Walker – who's been running on a platform of being a staunch anti-abortionist – paid for his then girlfriend's abortion 11 years ago, I immediately thought, "Well, this is it for Herschel."

Then, seconds later, my cynicism kicked in.

According to recent polling, the race between Walker and incumbent Democrat Raphael Warnock is neck-and-neck. How can that be, I wondered?

Then I knew why. Almost immediately (everything is immediate these days), Republicans across the board rushed to Walker's defense: Ted Cruz, Marco Rubio, Ron Johnson, Newt Gingrich among others, all telling us how wonderful a Christian man Walker is and what a fine senator he'd make (even though he's had four children out of wedlock and has not helped in raising any of them; even though he's held a gun to his wife's head and threatened to blow her brains out; even though good American air is going to China to replace their polluted air; Walker thinks he's redeemed while he believes his opponent, an ordained Baptist minister, doesn't believe in redemption. Good senator material there, huh? Sheesh).

While we can question the motives and actions of members of either political major party, the Republican Party clearly has taken hypocrisy – as well as Big Lying, cheating, misdirection and grift – to new, unseen heights. And we see it happen in front of our eyes virtually every day.

And yet, the GOP fundraising increases. I don't get it. I understand the concept that we have retreated to our own political camps, I understand how new technology, like the Internet and various unchecked social media have warped the truth and elevated conspiracy theories. I don't understand why the Republican base accepts most of the nonsense we're hearing these days as political truth.

So when a barely functional illiterate (who, as Gingrich himself said, might have taken too many blows to the head back in the day as a football star for both Georgia and the NFL) takes the mic and tells you he has no idea why this woman is talking about an abortion he apparently paid for even though she has the receipt and get-well card that he signed, Republicans rush to his aid.

Apparently, they're going to vote Republican because daddy was a Republican, and Pawpaw was a Republican, and great Pawpaw was a Republican. That chain or lineage seems to be the only measure for casting a vote these days, and not the facts, nor the agenda, nor the ideas that might surface.

As one Yahoo! news story commenter noted about Walker: "Can anyone seriously see this man reading and understanding a tax bill, the provisions of an EPA regulation, the relative merits of buying one jet fighter vs. another, the options for combating drought in the Western watershed, proposed changes to social security or Medicare legislation? Please, can we get real here?"

Good questions, and questions that can be posed to any Republican – Hershel Walker's Republicans since they are supporting him party-wide – who won't give a straight answer. 

I think this country's democracy is at a crossroads as we head into the midterms. Many Republican candidates are election-result deniers – including several who are running for their crucial secretary of state position – who two years later still don't think Joe Biden is the legitimately-elected president; many still think the Jan. 6 insurgency at the Capitol were tourists on a lark; many believe in the Big Lie that Donald Trump is still the legitimate president without a shred of evidence of perceived voter fraud.

I'm not sure how to get past this absurdity. Well, yes I do. I've never advocated this before, but the only way to make sure that democracy as we have known it for the past 246 years is to vote a straight Democratic ticket, flaws and all. We have to purge the insane asylum. This is our chance. 

Maybe our last chance.

 

Four souls

Sometimes life just quietly steps up behind you and taps you on the shoulder when you least expect it. You know, when you're busy doing other things. We don't know why. We don't know when.

That's what life does.

Rodney Walser

 So, for the Wehrles, within a two-week period, we lost four friends, each on separate days.

About 10 days ago, Kim learned that her cousin's wife, Mary Wood Willard, passed away. She was 78.

I knew Mary mostly as an acquaintance who I'd see once a year during family reunions. Our conversations were usually brief, and always friendly. But for Kim, Mary was a vessel of memories as well as a connection as they climbed and explored the branches in their family tree together. Family was important to her.

"She was a very kind person, very sweet," Kim told me through moist eyes. "I always enjoyed her company."

Ken Coleman

One of the things Kim remembered about Mary "is what a great Southern cook she was." That may not seem like much at first glance, but we all have our talents. Some of them are hidden, some of them are taken for granted, and some of them define us. We all looked forward to seeing Mary.

We went to Mary's visitation last Saturday, which was also the day a neighbor on our block, Ken Coleman, suffered a heart attack. Ken, 83, passed the following day.

Ken was a soft-spoken fellow who almost always seemed to seek me out when we were at neighborhood functions. I think we actually met decades ago, back in the days when I was a sportswriter for The Dispatch and covered his daughter, Anna, who was a stellar tennis player for the Lexington Yellow Jackets and a force to reckon with statewide.

Steve Hinkle

 I knew at one time that Ken and his wife, Mary, operated a restaurant in town (I can still taste the chicken pie. Mmmm mmm), but I didn't know that before that, he ran the Ice Cream Well. That was before I arrived in Lexington and Kim said his place had the best French fries ever. She still misses them.

Whenever Ken found me, he'd take me aside and we'd talk about nearly anything that came to his mind – although it was likely sports – and ask my opinion on it. And I knew it wasn't just for conversation's sake because Ken was as sincere as they came. I could tell because of his smile. And his eyes.

I came to find out that he was a faithful reader of my blog and I took that as a big compliment. It let me know that some of my blogs ranged across generations.

Mary Wood Willard

A day or two later, Kim was perusing the laptop when, out of the blue, she asked me, "Did you know Steve Hinkle? Did he have anything to do with sports?"

Uh-oh. I had an idea where this was going. I went to where Kim was sitting and stood over her shoulder. And there, on the laptop, was Steve's picture, along with his obituary.

Steve was a longtime coach at North Davidson, especially football and golf, and since I was a sports writer for The Dispatch, we primarily dealt with each other on professional terms. I remember Steve as a straight shooter who never failed to answer my questions, whether his team won or lost. That's something a sports writer can appreciate.

Steve, 75, was also a high school basketball official and I'd occasionally see him at basketball games that I was covering. He always had a wave, a smile and a brief chat with me. That was nice.

But how come it takes an obituary to find out something new about somebody? I never knew he and I had the same birthday – February 12. That knowledge seemed to tighten the connection we had. I just couldn't share it with him when I found out.

The week already seemed to be relentlessly difficult, but a day later I got a text from a former colleague at NewBridge Bank (where I worked part-time after retiring from The Dispatch) informing me that Rodney Walser had passed. This was too much. Too much for one week. Too much to process.

Rodney was my supervisor at NewBridge, and you couldn't have asked to meet a nicer, calmer, collected person. The interesting thing about Rodney was that he came to what was then Lexington State Bank in 1990 straight after graduating from North Davidson. No college degree. No associate's degree. Just the smarts he carried in his brain.

And the best part was that his talent and abilities were recognized by the higher ups almost from the start. He worked for LSB/NewBridge for 27 years, becoming an assistant vice president and the supervisor of the Items Processing Department. I think he made life as easy as he could for the people in his department. At least, that's how I saw it. He was a natural leader.

When NewBridge began downsizing and reorganizing to become First National Bank, Rodney quickly found a job at Breeden Insurance, where he soon became the floor manager.

Rodney was a big man with a big heart, and everybody he met seemed to be drawn – almost inexorably – into his circle of friendship. It was shocking to me when he died, even more shocking to learn that he was only 50.

The question has been asked by songwriters and philosophers, from poets to pastors, "Does anyone know where the love of God goes?" 

It's been a tough week. I think the love of God goes silently from soul to soul, in our actions, in our interdependency on others, in our own love for what is dear to us. 

I think I know four souls who found that love.