Blog Archives

Straight Outta Oelwein

2/28/2020

A lot of you guys probably weren't aware that I was in a very successful gangsta rap, hip-hip trio in the mid-to-late 90s called "Cracka Rhymes."

Our Soulja shit was all over the charts. Toured with Biggie and Tupac. Puffy, Dre and Jay-Z all said they felt threatened by us. Em once said we were his biggest influence when he was laying down "8 Mile."

We'd drop some serious mic, bang some beeotches, put a cap in your ass and get home just in time to milk the damn cows.

Creative differences ended it, along with multiple paternity lawsuits and a copyright snafu over some sampling, and we parted ways just before we were gonna go global.

These were the boys in my hood.

Get out our cage.

0 Comments

Teachers are losers, or so I’ve heard

2/27/2020

3 Comments

Charles City Press, 2-27-20

If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.

A teacher taught me that. A loser teacher.

I’m admittedly biased toward teachers. I’m married to one, after all — a damn good one. Also, my parents were teachers. My grandfather taught in a one-room schoolhouse before becoming a principal. So did a great-grandfather who I never knew, but whose name was given to me.

My sister chose to become an educator. So did five aunts and uncles, and more cousins than I can count.

I love teachers. But when it was my turn to choose what I wanted to do, I chose writing, and ended up a journalist. I did not want to teach — from what I had seen, teaching was way too tough, way too challenging for me. I did not have that kind of commitment.

Last year, during a political rally in El Paso, Texas, President Trump’s son — Donald Trump Jr. — took to the podium to speak on behalf of his daddy.

“I love seeing some young conservatives because I know it’s not easy,” he told the crowd. “Keep up that fight. Bring it to your schools. You don’t have to be indoctrinated by these loser teachers that are trying to sell you on socialism from birth. You don’t have to do it. Because you can think for yourselves. They can’t.”

That’s right. Teachers are losers. Teachers can’t think for themselves. Teachers are socialists, who are indoctrinating their students. Teachers need to be fought.

The audience response — cheers and thunderous applause. Teachers are now an enemy to President Trump’s base, just like journalists, with our fake news. Enemies of the state, as the president once said.

I cover the Charles City School District, and am in contact with several teachers and administrators here on a regular basis. I can tell you that although I have an admitted personal bias toward teachers — I like them — it doesn’t necessarily influence my coverage.

Although I prefer to write stories that highlight positive things in the community, I am obligated to write the facts. Not all news is good news. Stay tuned. Watch this space.

However, to make educators villains, to call them losers, to imply that they are indoctrinating socialism — that’s absurd and outrageous. And actually, it’s absurd and outrageous to do that to any group of human beings. It’s a shameful thing for the son of the president of the United States to say, in any context.

U.S. Sen. Charles Grassley visited Charles City High School last week, and took questions from the students. Tough questions. Informed questions. The students weren’t intimidated by him — but they were polite and respectful. These students were inspired by teachers.

Several Charles City High School wrestlers and bowlers recently competed at state tournaments, and represented the community well. I imagine their teachers had something to do with their success.

The Charles City FFA program was recently highlighted on these pages. Their accomplishments are unprecedented. One of their teachers was recently nominated to be ag educator of the year — in his 36th year of teaching. He doesn’t seem like a loser to me. He doesn’t seem like a socialist. I believe he can think for himself.

A few hundred people enjoyed the CCHS vocal POPs concert last week, which featured students with beautiful voices — directed by teachers. Organized by teachers. And when the cord that opens the heavy, big red curtain broke, a couple of teachers opened and closed it by hand all night. What a bunch of losers.

The CCHS group speech team sent five events to state recently. They’re talented kids. I think their teachers might have helped.

There’s a food pantry at the high school now. Students collect food and other items to help classmates in need. The school district’s Project RISE has students mentoring other students, troubled students, at-risk students, kids contending with issues some of us can’t imagine. These programs were inspired by teachers. Loser teachers?

By the way, I also would like to remind Donald Trump Jr. that nationwide, several teachers have literally taken bullets for their students in recent years. They have protected children who aren’t their own with their lives.

Would you do that? I’m not so sure I would have that kind of courage. Would Donald Trump Jr.?

The fact of the matter is, despite all the loser teachers in the district, students in Charles City are offered 23 advanced placement courses, more than 85 percent are involved in extracurricular activities, nearly 80 percent pursue secondary education and more than 97 percent graduate from high school.

The Charles City School District’s stated vision is to “engage, inspire and empower students and staff in order to maximize learning.” Its mission statement is, “regardless of who you are or what your story is, you can learn and be loved here.”
Regardless. That means anyone.

That means the best and the brightest, as well as the most challenged and at-risk. The rich, as well as the poor.

“Regardless” includes everyone. Even the losers.

Even people like Donald Trump Jr. could learn and be loved here.

3 Comments

Old Friends

2/20/2020

0 Comments

Inhale the wonder, breathe out, keep going

2/6/2020

1 Comment

Charles City Press, 2-6-20

When I was finishing up a phone call with my surgeon the other day, I said something that sounded strange to me immediately afterwards.

“See you Friday,” I said.

It seemed strange because I said it so naturally, as though we were making plans together. It was as if I was picking him up Friday so we could go fishing, or to go watch a ball game or a movie, or build a shed or something.

I decided that I’m getting to know my surgeon too well — he’s becoming too familiar to me.

He really isn’t though. I actually don’t know all that much about him, just that he seems like a nice guy who has a talent for cutting me open and taking bad things out of me, which is what we’ve got planned together for Friday.

We’re planning on killing some cancer together.

As some of you know, and many of you don’t, I’ve been fighting cancer for almost four years now. I had major surgery in 2016 and several months of recovery and chemotherapy, and after a fight for my life, I was clean for almost two years.

Some cancer popped up again about a year ago. I got some more chemo, then had surgery in August, then had more chemo through the end of last year.

Scans last week and earlier this week showed that, although we took care of the cancer we were trying to get rid of, there are some spots of cancer growing on my liver that we didn’t see before, because they were obstructed from view. We see it now.

We need to get that crap out of there right away. I will be getting a chunk of my liver removed, maybe some other procedures if necessary.

It’s me, my surgeon and his brilliant ensemble, all together again for another sequel. Get your tickets now, seats are limited.

I have to admit that for the first motion picture four years ago, I was pretty scared. This kind of thing was unknown to me, and it was pretty risky surgery. I managed to fight through it and keep breathing, with help from God, family, friends, and doctors and nurses.

Today I’m scared again, not because of the unknown, because I’m used to this. I’m scared of what I know. I’m scared that this will be the new normal for me, that this kind of thing will be something I have to regularly do, every year, every few months.

It will become like going on a fishing trip, or to a ball game or a movie, or building a shed.

I’m scared that this kind of thing will be all too familiar to me.

In some ways, however, my seemingly perpetual fight with cancer has been a blessing for me.

My wife, my daughters, sister, parents, family, friends, co-workers and acquaintances — and sometimes total strangers — have all been squarely in my corner and have given me the kind of moral and emotional support I never could have imagined.

The smartest thing I’ve done in this life is surround myself with good people. I’ve become closer to all of them since cancer.

I’ve reignited relationships with long lost friends, and tried to support some of them through their own battles with cancer, and battles with all the other things in this world that are conspiring to destroy us.

American author and poet Charles Bukowski is credited with once saying, “We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”
That’s what I’ve tried to do for the last four years. I’ve tried to make Death tremble at the thought of laying its hand on me.

But as Death trembles, the reality of survival is also a fear. I feel bad for my wife. No matter how successful the surgery and my recovery is, she will lose the husband she knows for a little while. There will be some sick, tired and crabby guy sitting in my chair, sleeping in my spot next to her for an unspecified amount of time.

My kids, my parents my friends — they’re fighting this with me — this is putting them through hell. Sometimes I feel like I’ve let them down by not beating this once and for all.
Hopefully, this surgery is only going to put me out of commission for a couple weeks. You probably won’t be seeing my byline here for that while. Good vibes, warm thoughts, and sincere prayers are always appreciated.

Also appreciated — take care of yourselves. Get checked, get scanned, take preventative measures. Catch it early — it is so much easier to take care of it when you do.
Also, donate to cancer charities, sponsor a child who’s fighting cancer, help others.

Support local families with members fighting cancer. I don’t mean just with your money — although money is good if you have some to spare — sometimes just a kind word or a note can go a long way, and helps more than you know.

Let’s all kill some cancer together, or at least ease the pain it causes us all.

And please remember this — something that I once said, a couple years ago, as I was riding in the car and looking at a beautiful winter morning sundog in the eastern sky.

The world is full of wonder. Sometimes you need to inhale it, hold it in a while, just listen to how it makes you feel.

Breathe out.

Reflect and keep going ...

1 Comment

Straight Outta Oelwein

Teachers are losers, or so I’ve heard

Old Friends

Inhale the wonder, breathe out, keep going

IowaScribe

Archives