THE COMING COTTON CRISIS

“WHEN ONE TUGS AT A SINGLE THING IN NATURE, HE FINDS IT ATTACHED TO THE REST OF THE WORLD”

John Muir had it right. Everything is connected – despite corporate powers that would have you think differently.  Everything we do and every step we take impacts some other fragment of our world. We are tied together in a string that is never ending.

I get up early – 5:00 a.m. – even on weekends.  On Saturday morning, two of my favorite programs are the U.S Farm Report at 6:00 a.m. and This Week in Agribusiness at 7:00.  Why? Here is a little background before I get to the importance of cotton and crops and connections.

My great-grandfather was a farmer.  But that was back in the days of hand-gathering of eggs, hand-milking of cows, the storing of milk in spring houses, wood burning stoves, rising at 3:00 a.m., breakfasts that were feasts, and the good old out house.

Grandpa Brewer – I am German on both sides of my family – would take me out to the old hen house to gather eggs.  I was so little, and I remember walking into the old rickety hen house with him – all confident that I would be able to do this.  It smelled acrid – ammonia – and there were all these clucking, ugly looking hens.  He would tell me to just slide my hand under the hen and pull the egg out.  I would try, but the hen would peck me, and I would jerk my hand out and wimper,  from both fear and disappointment.

I will never forget, Grandpa always said to me, “Girlie – he always called me “girlie” – you just have to do it this way – they won’t hurt you.”  And then, he would slide his weathered, brown hand under the chicken and pull out an egg.  The chicken didn’t even make a sound or try to peck him.  I never could figure it out.

And, man, I hated that out house.  I would almost subject myself to a burst bladder before I would get  up in the dead of night and troop out there to that old-fashioned “port-a-potty.”  I was scared to death – it was a dark woods – at night – with noises.

But I loved my sleeping quarters – no air conditioning in those days.  I would climb up the old wood stairs to the second floor, and I would climb into a bed covered with a down-filled comforter.  And, I would sink and sink.  The down-filled comforters would swallow me up.  To this day, I have never felt such a comforting feeling of security and lightness and softness.

And I loved the spring house.  It was a dark, cool place with a small rippling, bubbling slice of cold crick running through it.  I barely remember its contents but the wooden shelves were lined with jars of canned goods and the milk was sunk deep into the little path of water that ran through it.  My great-grandfather didn’t believe in becoming “modern”  although he finally caved and got indoor plumbing and refrigeration.  But he never gave up on his old wood cook stove.  To the day he died at 93, he cooked with that huge, black, cast-iron giant that lived in his kitchen.

He milked his one cow, he slopped his hogs, he gathered his eggs, he raised his vegetables, he hooked up his one horse to his sleigh to gather wood.  We would go out in the winter and gather wood and load it onto the sleigh, and his faithful horse would haul us all back to the house. We were cold; we were tired; but we were elated that we had come home with wood for the cook stove and the old fireplace.

And the breakfasts, unbelieveable.  We had a table that groaned with food – sausage and gravy and biscuits, eggs, pancakes, sausage, potatoes, sorghum molasses, home churned butter, and so many other things.  That is where I began my love affair with sorghum molasses.  It isn’t molasses; it is molasses cut with sugar syrup.

There is nothing better than home made biscuits – hot from the wood burning stove – and sorghum molasses mixed with butter spread on the hot biscuits – melting into the flaky biscuit.

During the depression, my Grandfather and Grandmother lived with him.  My Grandpa on my mother’s side was a Baptist minister but times were hard, and they needed the farm to survive.  Farming kept many alive through the Depression.  Good, simple, and hardworking people.

Now, to the connection between cotton and farming and the attachment to the rest of the world.  The south has been known for cotton production.  But cotton is no longer king of the Mississippi delta.  The southern states are starting to look like the Midwest.

Photo Credit:  Wikipedia

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The Agriculture Department estimates that 8.8 million acres of cotton will be planted in the United States this year, down 7 percent from 2008 and 42 percent from 2006.  It will be the lowest cotton acreage since 1983, an anomalous year when farmers cut acreage after a string of bountiful harvests that created a surplus.  Nowhere has the slump been greater than in Mississippi, where farmers decreased their cotton planting to 365,000 acres in 2008, from 1.2 million acres in 2006.

The decrease in cotton production is due to the increasing demand for corn needed for ethanol production.  So the southern states are converting cotton producing acreage to corn producing acreage.  And, fewer acres of cotton means an ever-increasing reliance on foreign producers of textile products and continued loss of American jobs to outsourcing.

Cotton, once king in the south,is now fast becoming a secondary citizen.  And, just like John Muir said,”WHEN ONE TUGS AT A SINGLE THING IN NATURE, HE FINDS IT ATTACHED TO THE REST OF THE WORLD.”

We tug at alternative fuel production and we impact the value of crops related to ethanol production, which, in turn, makes it more valuable to plant corn instead of cotton, which, in turn, simply decreases cotton production for clothing, which, in turn, increases reliance on foreign textile products – more goods from foreign countries – more outsourcing of American jobs.

We are connected, and everything we do is connected to something else.

“THE ARC OF THE MORAL UNIVERSE IS LONG, BUT IT BENDS TOWARD JUSTICE”

President Obama responded to the Iranian crisis by aptly quoting Martin Luther King:

“The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

The universe will always bend toward justice – it may be a long trek and it will inevitably cost millions of lives, it will result in brutal, vicious, and unspeakable crimes against humanity, and it will wreak destruction and havoc on nations and it will show no mercy in its struggle to survive, but it will, sooner or later, survive, and it will bend toward justice. I fervently pray for Iran that it is sooner.

I am cautiously and optimistically watching the events in Iran.  I remember the days of the American ally, the Shah of Iran, who was deposed in 1979 in the Islamic Revolution – a revolution which thrust Iran back into the hard line policies of the Ayatollahs and the denigration and subjugation of women.

My sons were not old enough to really be interested in this event.  But I well remember seeing the Shah of Iran – right or wrong – an American ally, propped up by American interests – being deposed and sent into exile.  In those days, Iran was our “friend”, our “ally.”

The Islamic Revolution of 1979 was quick, and it surprised the West and its allies.  Just as this current uprising has been quick and has surprised the world with its ferocity and its tenacity.  Mir Hossein Mousavi – leader of the movement – is ready for martyrdom, and he understands that his life may be offered up as testimony to his beliefs.  He knows, just as Benizir Bhutto knew, just as Burmese activist Aung San Suu Ky knows, that there are causes that are just and right and are worth the ultimate sacrifice.

Am I espousing ethnocentricity at this point?  Yes, I am.  I believe that people should be free, but it should be of their own choice and making – such as is occurring now in Iran.  I believe that according to the Declaration of Independence “that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”  That the word “men” now includes all genders and all races and all ethnicities.

Sooner or later, the people will rise against tyranny that is in place.   Sooner or later it truly is “power to the people.”  Sooner or later, the people arise and throw off the yoke of tyranny.

I remember the taking of 52 Americans for 444 days beginning on November 4, 1979, and ending seconds after Ronald Reagan assumed the presidency on January 20, 1981.  President Carter’s ill-fated attempt to rescue the hostages prevented him from a second term.  Who can doubt that if his rescue attempt had been successful, he would have won a second term?

Am I also espousing the rights and dignities of women?  Yes, I am.  The world should not support and encourage the second-class citizenship of women.  Women are not property – women are human beings and deserve to be treated with the same respect and dignity that are accorded to men.

So I anxiously await the outcome because I know at the very root of all justice is the ability of the people to rise up and claim what is rightfully theirs – equality, justice, and freedom.

SIGN, SIGN, EVERYWHERE A SIGN – AHH, MY FAVORITE SIGN

I love traveling, but lately, I haven’t traveled the way I used to travel.  I have been to 40 of the 50 states with virtually all of my travels on my own, playing the radio or the CD player, and talking to myself – yes, I talk to myself – does that really surprise anyone? Oh, and, by the way, I answer myself, too.

I can’t imagine traveling with anyone.  I like not having to answer to another person.  I can stop when I want, eat when I want, and do what I want.  I can drift off the beaten path and wander if I want.  While the interstates certainly make travel fast and easy, they also make one miss so many quaint and beautiful sights.

Last week I took a trip to Cincinnati to attend a corporate meeting – not far – about a three and a half hour drive.  I got up at 4:00 a.m. on Wednesday morning, and packed a few things.  Not  many, though, because I was only going to be gone over night, staying at my son and daughter-in-law’s on the way home to see them and my grand kids.

My route of travel was to take 33 south out of Fort Wayne, through Decatur and into Ohio, pick up Ohio State Road 29 outside St. Marys, Ohio, and then hop onto Interstate 75 at Sydney, Ohio.

As I left my home in the early morning hours, I thought what a wonderful feeling it is to take off in the early morning hours, the balmy summer air stirring slightly with a gentle touch against the face, pulling into the gas station for a cup of freshly-brewed morning coffee, and then on the road with the sun just hinting with its rosy glowing beams of light that it was anxiously awaiting the proper moment to show its rising face in the eastern sky.

I always allow myself about 30 minutes of  “get lost” time, and it was a good thing I did.  No problem getting to Cincinnati, but I am not very familiar with downtown Cincinnati itself.  I had prepared my route beforehand, and, as I deftly wove my way through the inner parts of Cincinnati following my Google map, I thought I had it made.  The last direction was to turn on Eden Park Drive – and the instructions showed that it was totally close to my exit from Reading Road.

And, it was – and, I missed it.  If you have ever missed a turnoff on these highway mazes, you will understand the panic I felt at that point.  It was 9:30 a.m., and my meeting started at 10:00 a.m. – hence my relief that I had my “get lost” time.  As I was forced up onto another clover leaf, I started thinking of options.  I drove down a street and stopped a pedestrian to see if she knew where to go.  No – she didn’t.

I knew that if I could just find Interstate 71, I would probably – I say probably because I had no clue – be okay.  I managed to locate the exit I wanted, but as I missed that turnoff also, I saw that it was on my right and lower down.  So, unless I wanted to drive over the side of a freeway and nosedive down about 30 feet, I wasn’t going to get onto it.  I quickly doubled back and found the right exit.  I pulled into the parking lot just on time and made it to my meeting.

On my way back, I stayed all night with my daughter-in-law and my four grand kids.  My son was on the road, so I missed seeing him.  He travels extensively in his job, and he is a wonderful provider, but I know it has to be hard on him to be gone so much.

I had such a wonderful time.  My daughter-in-law is a great cook and mother.    They have a home in the country – a huge old brick home that has been restored, lying in the gentle rolling hills of southern Ohio.   The windows are open at night with the air wafting through – something I miss here in the city.

I found out how naive and dangerous leaving my windows open at night could be – three years ago this August, I surprised a burgler coming through my screen in my dining room, and, he, ever the macho character he surely was, reacted to my screaming and carrying on by fleeing – thank God because he had cut the screen with a knife.  I certainly would have been no match for a burgler with a knife.

My windows haven’t been open at night since, and I now have an alarm system.  So, so sad!  I miss that trust of people that I used to have.

As I slept at their home that night, I was anxious; I worried that someone would come through the open screen windows.   The fear of that happening will never leave me no matter how much time will pass and where I am – I am still scared.   But, of course, I worried for no reason – nothing happened; I awoke in the morning with all still asleep in the early morning quiet and the air peaceful and warm.  I left quietly without waking anyone.

As I traveled home, I thought about what a great trip I had.  I enjoyed my business meeting, but, more than that, I enjoyed seeing my family and spending a few hours with them.

As is the case with every trip I have taken, I couldn’t wait to see the Indiana state line.  That sign, that wonderful sign, is what makes coming home so special to me.  It is what makes my travels so special to me.   My favorite sign through all my travels is this one below.  I stopped at the Ohio-Indiana state line to take this picture – one that I had always kept putting off taking.

No matter where I roam, this will be my favorite sign.

And, this is will forever be my favorite song.

MY SHOPPING TRIP TO CHINA … AND HONDURAS … AND THAILAND … AND PAKISTAN

This past week I had to do some clothes shopping – something I really hate to do.  I had an event to attend on Saturday night, so I thought I would buy something new to wear since I don’t have a lot of fancy clothes.  I was also out of my favorite perfume “Angel” which I usually buy at Macy’s.  Perfume is one of the few items I will fork over full price to buy.  But even then, I look for boxed sets which will usually include additional items for a special price.  But, I digress.

I hate going to Glenbrook Mall, but Macy’s and my perfume are there, so I started at Macy’s.  The clothes section is before the perfume section, so I started browsing through dresses, skirts, and other assorted apparel.  Of course, as I always do, I looked at the tags to see where the products were made.   My peering at the tags took me through a journey to far off places that I will probably never get to see – China, Thailand, Honduras, Mexico, Vietnam, Pakistan, India, and on and on.

I did not find one – not one – clothing item made in the U.S.A.  But what is even more appalling is that many of these dresses, skirts, and apparel items were still marked up at ridiculous prices – $140 – $200 – and they were from countries that pay a meager .44 cents an hour to workers.  Talk about a profit margin.

Photo Credit:  Google Images

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I simply got madder and madder.  I went to the perfume section, bought my once-yearly perfume supply, and left – thinking maybe a stroll through J.C. Penney’s would be better.  I couldn’t have been more wrong.  Again, all the clothing items were made in foreign countries.  A new J.C. Penney product line – erroneously named “American Living” – is made in China.  I ended up buying some jewelry and a new hat to go with an old outfit – all items made in China.

On my way back home, I stopped at Walgreens to pick up some make up items – all made in other countries with the exception of a lone Cover Girl product.  It was actually made in the United States.

People, look around.  Take time to pick up items and look at the tags and labels.  The corporate box stores have become nothing more than retail outlets for foreign nations.

The corporations have shipped job after job overseas for the sake of pure greed.  So when raving capitalists start shuddering at protectionism and start bullying the public with threats that protectionism will lead to jobs leaving this country, I have to laugh.

Go to Lowes, Home Depot, and all the other stores.  The shelves are lined with products from almost every country other than the United States.  The corporate powers-that-be have certainly done a snow job on the American consumer.  By threatening to take jobs overseas if protectionism rears its head, the corporations manipulate and instill fear into us.

But, sad to say, it really is too late for the American worker.  Taking a trip overseas is as simple as visiting your local big-name retailers.   Foreign workers are exploited for pennies, foreign environments are decimated to produce cheap products, and corporations get richer and richer – all at the expense of the American worker.  Our nation has become one big giant retail outlet for the rest of the world, and corporations are laughing all the way to the bank.

DANIELS THE WHINER – RATHER THAN INSPIRE, DANIELS TRASHES BABY BOOMERS

Daniels can’t think of too much positive to say since he has been pretty much non-existent this year during Indiana’s legislative session.   So at Butler University’s recent graduation at which he gave a speech, he decided to trash the “Boomer” generation with a mea culpa of  “don’t be like us.”

Photo Credit:  Indy.com (Alan Petersime)

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Oh, come on.  It really is time now – 40 years later – to get over blaming Boomers.  I have heard ad nauseum for decades now how the Boomers have ruined the world.  It really gets old – especially when it isn’t true.  Since my generation of the 1960s, two more generations have entered the world’s stage – and have done quite a bit to mess things up.  These youngsters are also called the “me” generations.

Those born in the 1970s have been dubbed Generation X (born to the Baby Boomers) and those born in the 1980s and 1990s have been dubbed Generation Y (Echo Boomers).  Both of these groups are today’s young people, those who also have been accused of being selfish and taking for granted that the self comes first.

But since Daniels is having a tough time in his home state legislative endeavors, he has decided to deflect attention from the real shape of Indiana’s finances and jump on the old saw that the Boomers really messed things up.  And, wow, he actually believes he has the power to seek forgiveness by saying “we’re sorry – don’t be like us.”

If he thought he would get rave reviews, he was wrong.  Many disliked his negative tone and felt his speech belonged in a different venue.  Some felt it was simply a “put-off.”  I guess Daniels decided not to follow the old adage that “if you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything.”

But ya got give the guy credit – at least he stayed true to his character:  nothing to say, so cry and whine and find a scapegoat for his lack of inspiring advice.

BOTTLES ARE FOR BABIES

Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink ;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

The above is from the “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.  Ah, how horrible to be surrounded by a sea of water – salt water – and nary a drop to salve the parched throat.

But today, water is available in many “forms” – from the tap to the most beautiful bottles containing the liquid necessity.  But bottles are for babies.  Bottles are not for adults.  Bottles are not for the containment of water.  But the notion that bottled water is “pure” and tap water is, well, less than pure, has driven the sales of this precious liquid.

The truth is that bottled water is no better than tap water.  Of course, if we all acknowledged that and stopped buying those cutesy bottles, an entire segment of an industry would be decimated.  But if you really care about the environment and you don’t like to be duped, here are five reasons not to buy into the bottled water frenzy:

1.  Bottled water isn’t a good value

Take, for instance, Pepsi’s Aquafina or Coca-Cola’s Dasani bottled water. Both are sold in 20 ounce sizes and can be purchased from vending machines alongside soft drinks — and at the same price. Assuming you can find a $1 machine, that works out to 5 cents an ounce. These two brands are essentially filtered tap water, bottled close to their distribution point. Most municipal water costs less than one cent per gallon.

Now consider another widely-sold liquid: gasoline. It has to be pumped out of the ground in the form of crude oil, shipped to a refinery (often halfway across the world), and shipped again to your local filling station.

In the U.S., the average price per gallon is hovering around $3. There are 128 ounces in a gallon, which puts the current price of gasoline at fraction over 2 cents an ounce.

And that’s why there’s no shortage of companies which want to get into the business. In terms of price versus production cost, bottled water puts Big Oil to shame.

2.  No healthier than tap water

In theory, bottled water in the United States falls under the regulatory authority of the Food and Drug Administration. In practice, about 70 percent of bottled water never crosses state lines for sale, making it exempt from FDA oversight.

On the other hand, water systems in the developed world are well-regulated. In the U.S., for instance, municipal water falls under the purview of the Environmental Protection Agency, and is regularly inspected for bacteria and toxic chemicals. Want to know how your community scores? Check out the Environmental Working Group’s National Tap Water Database.

While public safety groups correctly point out that many municipal water systems are aging and there remain hundreds of chemical contaminants for which no standards have been established, there’s very little empirical evidence which suggests bottled water is any cleaner or better for you than its tap equivalent.

3.  Bottled water means garbage

Bottled water produces up to 1.5 million tons of plastic waste per year. According to Food and Water Watch, that plastic requires up to 47 million gallons of oil per year to produce. And while the plastic used to bottle beverages is of high quality and in demand by recyclers, over 80 percent of plastic bottles are simply thrown away.

That assumes empty bottles actually make it to a garbage can. Plastic waste is now at such a volume that vast eddies of current-bound plastic trash now spin endlessly in the world’s major oceans. This represents a great risk to marine life, killing birds and fish which mistake our garbage for food.

Thanks to its slow decay rate, the vast majority of all plastics ever produced still exist — somewhere.

4.  Bottled water means less attention to public systems

Many people drink bottled water because they don’t like the taste of their local tap water, or because they question its safety.

This is like running around with a slow leak in your tire, topping it off every few days rather than taking it to be patched. Only the very affluent can afford to switch their water consumption to bottled sources. Once distanced from public systems, these consumers have little incentive to support bond issues and other methods of upgrading municipal water treatment.

There’s plenty of need. In California, for example, the American Society of Civil Engineers estimated the requirement of $17.5 billion in improvements to the state’s drinking water infrastructure as recently as 2005. In the same year, the state lost 222 million gallons of drinkable water to leaky pipes.

5.  The corporatization of water

In the documentary film Thirst, authors Alan Snitow and Deborah Kaufman demonstrated the rapid worldwide privatization of municipal water supplies, and the effect these purchases are having on local economies.

Water is being called the “Blue Gold” of the 21st century. Thanks to increasing urbanization and population, shifting climates, and industrial pollution, fresh water is becoming humanity’s most precious resource.

Multinational corporations are stepping in to purchase groundwater and distribution rights wherever they can, and the bottled water industry is an important component in their drive to commoditize what many feel is a basic human right: the access to safe and affordable water.

So the next time you peruse the bottled water isle in the grocery store, stop and think about just why you are adding it to your cart.  Is it to look “tres chique”?  Is it to – hmm, I guess there is no other reason.

MY FIRST FREEDOM OF INFORMATION ACT REQUEST

I filed my first Freedom of Information Act request – better known as an “FOIA”  request – asking for information about Thieme Drive and the City’s plans to destroy it.

I received a couple of calls from a city attorney to clarify a couple of items, but other than that, I haven’t heard about the materials I requested.  Of course, those who read my blog know how much I love this small, little corner of the world and how much I loathe the City’s attempts to tear down the river environment and erect an ugly, concrete wall.

As far as I am concerned, the City is responsible for the increased flooding in my area.  After the completion of an extensive wall that was erected to protect the Nebraska neighborhood from flooding, this area began to flood more frequently.  How do I know?  Well, I have lived here now for 14 years, and, since the 2001 completion of the Nebraska Wall, this small “cup” area has flooded five times in six years:  July 2003, June 2004, January 2005, February 2008, and March 2009.

Of course, the City personnel simply tell me I am not an engineer so I really have no understanding of river dynamics.  But I do have common sense, and common sense tells me that if you wall off water from spreading out in one area where it has typically gone, it will seek an open and lower level to spread out. Unfortunately, that is now my area.

The City keeps slapping up short-sighted flood measures such as berms, levees, and walls, and, with each one , it marches toward the destruction of Thieme Drive – an historical drive named after Fort Wayne entrepreneur Theodore Thieme, and which is probably the last river drive left in Fort Wayne.

So, I will see what I get from my first FOIA.  And, believe me, I will certainly let you know via my blog.

REPUBLICANS PLAIN BIGOTED – AND PLAIN SCARED

So far the Republicans have failed to instill in the American public a fear of Sonia Sotomayor.   But I have faith that they will keep trying.  However, as the public is introduced to Sotomayor, the Republicans will become more and more enraged that their bigoted tactics just aren’t going to work.

Rather than look at Sotomayor’s judicial work, the Republicans would prefer to hammer and yammer about comments she made years ago as evidence that she will be unable to keep an open and judicious mind while sitting on the high court.  Well, for those who really are interested in her judicial leanings instead of old comments, the SCOTUS  blog has an analysis of her appellate court decisions.

The analysis is eyeopening in that it contradicts the Republican picture of an out-of-control, left-wing, screaming Hispanic woman who just happens to be a justice.  So let’s begin with some race cases – the area that so frightens the ‘Publicans.  In the 96 race-related cases in which Sotomayor  has been involved, Sotomayor REJECTED THE CLAIM OF DISCRIMINATION roughly 78 times.  She and the panel agreed with the claim of discrimination only 10 times.

Of the 10 cases favoring claims of discrimination, 9 were unanimous – meaning Sotomayor wasn’t alone in her rejection of the claims.  Of the 9, in 7, the unanimous panel included at least one Republican.  Judge Sotomayor rejected claims of discrimination by a margin of 8-1 – truly something the ‘Publlicans don’t want to hear, let alone acknowledge.

In sum, in an eleven-year career on the Second Circuit, Judge Sotomayor participated in approximately 100 panel decisions involving questions of race and has disagreed with her colleagues a total of four times.  Wowee!  Four times.  Given her record, it really is absurd and unfounded to say that Judge Sotomayor has allowed race to infect her decisionmaking.

Photo credit:  Wikipedia

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So just exactly what is it that the bigoted and scared Republicans want?  Could it be that they won’t be happy until the high Court is once again all male and all white?  Poor ‘Publicans, this must just be more than they can take.  But it really is about time that the center moderate Republicans of this nation woke up and stopped letting the party right-wingers a la Limbaugh the Loser control their thoughts and minds by instilling fear of virtually everything.

Bigoted and scared – not a pleasant position for the Republicans to occupy.  But one which they apparently enjoy!

SOTOMAYOR CRITICS – IT’S OKAY IF CONSERVATIVES ARE ACTIVISTS AND HAVE EMPATHY

With all the squawking going on about Justice Sotomayor’s past statements, the din must have numbed the minds of the conservatives who have forgotten that some justices in their own party have held pretty much the same views as Justice Sotomayor.  So here are  just a couple of reminders – blasts from the past if you will – about what some Republican justices have said about the very same issues for which Sotomayor is now being crucified.

Recall, Sotomayor said the following:

The saw is that if you’re going into academia, you’re going to teach, or as Judge Lucero just said, public interest law, all of the legal defense funds out there, they’re looking for people with court of appeals experience, because it is — court of appeals is where policy is made. And I know — and I know this is on tape and I should never say that because we don’t make law, I know.

And, she was on tape, so, of course, the comment has now become fodder for the howling right-wing of the party led by its titular head, Limbaugh the Loser.

But here is the shocker, some justices on the Supreme Court have said the same thing and enshrined it into their judicial decisions. Like, say, noted leftist jurist Antonin Scalia, who, in the majority opinion of the 2002 case Republican Party of Minnesota v. White, 536 U.S. 765, wrote:

This complete separation of the judiciary from the enterprise of “representative government” might have some truth in those countries where judges neither make law themselves nor set aside the laws enacted by the legislature. It is not a true picture of the American system. Not only do state-court judges possess the power to “make” common law, but they have the immense power to shape the States’ constitutions as well. See, e.g., Baker v. State, 170 Vt. 194, 744 A. 2d 864 (1999). Which is precisely why the election of state judges became popular.

Photo Credit:  AP photo on Huffington Post

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Additionally, Sotomayor’s critics are up in arms over the fact that she has admitted that her ethnic background has an affect on her decision making process.  As it turns out, her statements are very similar to those made by Justice Sam Alito during his Senate confirmation hearing:

ALITO: Senator, I tried to in my opening statement, I tried to provide a little picture of who I am as a human being and how my background and my experiences have shaped me and brought me to this point. … And that’s why I went into that in my opening statement. Because when a case comes before me involving, let’s say, someone who is an immigrant — and we get an awful lot of immigration cases and naturalization cases — I can’t help but think of my own ancestors, because it wasn’t that long ago when they were in that position. [...]

And that goes down the line. When I get a case about discrimination, I have to think about people in my own family who suffered discrimination because of their ethnic background or because of religion or because of gender. And I do take that into account.

But, of course, these hypocritical lapses by Scalia and Alito are perfectly acceptable to the harping right wing since they were made by Republican conservatives.  Apparently Scalia and Alito haven’t gotten the memo that justices don’t make policy or let their backgrounds affect their views.

Ah, but what can you expext from a party that just doesn’t get it.  The whining and gnashing of teeth won’t do any good – especially when members of their own feel the same way Sotomayor feels and have expressed those same views publicly.

EVERYDAY HERO – JASON SCHECHTERLE

Several years ago as I was surfing the web, I came across a truly amazing story of a young, 28-year-old, Phoenix  officer who was horribly burned in a crash involving a taxi cab driver who, while driving, suffered a seizure.  On that fateful evening in March 2001, Officer Jason Schechterle’s Crown Victoria was stopped at a light.   A speeding taxi – piloted by a driver who was suffering a seizure – struck the officer’s car from behind at a speed approaching 100 miles an hour.

The Crown Victoria burst into a ball of flame, and the officer was trapped inside secured by his seat belt.  But, a Phoenix fire truck was nearby and responded to the  accident; the crew worked feverishly to free the officer.  As the fire fighters pulled the young officer from the crushed and still burning vehicle they wondered if they had done him a favor.

Fellow officers gathered at the Maricopa Medical Center.  Doctors, who had been home getting ready for bed, began to assemble expecting the arrival of a burn patient with possible third degree burns.  When Officer Schechterle was wheeled in, the doctors were stunned at his condition.  The burns were much worse than they had anticipated.

The doctors had to work in a stifling environment – 90 degrees to offset the loss of body heat that is attendant with severe burn cases as the blackened and dead skin is removed.  Fluid oozes from the body and the once-protective layers of skin no longer encase muscles and bones.

The officer’s face and head were destroyed by fourth degree burns – the likes of which the doctors had never seen.  As the doctors continued to remove layer after layer of skin, they began to realize that the result would be to leave the officer with no living tissue and literally no face.  But they continued with the knowledge that it was the only way to give the officer a fighting chance to survice.  In the morning, the doctors looked at what was left:  gone were the eyelids, the eyebrows, most of the nose and the ears.  He had no cheeks or forehead, no skin whatsoever.

As Officer Schechterle slowly regained his strength and began his road to recovery, he struggled with the reality that he would never be that young officer again.  But he and his wife knew that while he had lost his facial identity, he had gained a new role in life.   Today he speaks to burn victims and works on behalf of charitable organizations, inspiring others by his own struggle and survival.

Photo Credit:  www.uslawman.com

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Photo Credit:  Google Images

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And just why have I written about this officer?  Sometimes when we – and I include myself – struggle with our own physical difficulties, we need reminded of the heroes out there who have shown courage and spirit beyond compare.

In the morning I wake up in pain, and in the evening I go to bed in pain.  My hips were dislocated at birth, and, by the age of five, I had undergone three surgeries – one on each knee and one to insert a stainless steel pin in my right hip.  The other hip was “popped” back into place.  And to add to the hip dislocation, I was born with only partial hip shelves.

By the age of six, I had spent 20 months in body casts.  When those were removed I had to learn to walk again, and I had to wear  a knee brace for months – sometimes aided by crutches.  And, I had to go to physical therapy three times a week at the Lutheran Hospital in Fort Wayne for months and months.  Children can be cruel at young ages, and I remember being called names.

My parents had no one to help with me because in those days polio was a scare, and the neighbors and others that Mom and Dad knew were convinced that I had polio and was contagious, so they avoided being around me.

So, every now and then when I begin to feel sorry for myself – wishing I could have just one day without pain before I die, I go out onto the web, and I revisit Officer Schechterle’s struggle.  I find after re-reading his struggle, that his courage as well as others who have suffered much more than I, reinforce just how fortunate I am.

We need these heroes in our lives – to ground us and to give us hope and faith and to inspire us to do better and to accept those circumstances that we have been dealt.  I choose to remind myself of Officer Schecterle’s fight, but there are dozens if not hundreds out there who are heroes – we just need to find them.