Those durn rocks … grrrr!

I spoke too soon. Shame on me.

I had thought I had dodged a bullet because the seal-coating operation under way in my southwest Amarillo neighborhood wouldn’t affect me much because of our rear-entry driveway. And I said as much in an earlier post on this blog.

Well … I was wrong. I went brain-dead and forgot about the street behind our house from which we enter the alley that leads to our driveway and garage.

I went home last night and found that gritty asphalt-covered gravel all over the street behind our house. It splattered the undercarriage of my car.

Then, this morning, I awoke early (as usual) and headed down the alley for my morning workout. Then it happened.

The car began howling from a noise underneath. I guess some of the seal-coated rocks had gotten into the brakes, causing that hideous whining sound.

At least that’s what I hope happened.

Amarillo streetscaping takes shape

A notice was hanging on our front door the other day. It was from Amarillo street department, telling us to prepare ourselves for a slight inconvenience this week. The city is going to lay down some seal coating, which comprises asphalt-covered pebbles.

I mention this because I heard this past week some faint grumbling from residents in the Estacado neighborhood near where we live. Their streets have been treated already and the residents don’t like it. The gravel gets kicked up onto their driveways, sidewalks and it gathers along the curb. Plus, some folks have said, the gravel plays havoc with their vehicles’ undercarriage.

Knowing about the grumbling, and having just received the notice, I took a brief walk Saturday morning along my street — which is all of two blocks long. It has cul-de-sacs on both ends and I joke all the time that the only people who drive on our street either (a) want to be there or (b) are hopelessly lost. I walked to one end of the street, then to the other. I looked for flaws in the pavement. I didn’t find any.

Indeed, the city just laid down some asphalt just about three, maybe four, years ago.

I know what the city’s response is to the gripes: Laying this coating down protects the street; if we don’t do it, City Hall officials say, the pavement will buckle, crack and will be harder on our vehicles.

But here’s the saving grace: We live in a neighborhood with rear-entry driveways. I don’t have to drive on this nasty stuff while it’s settling.

But the current street surface in front of my house looks to be in nearly mint condition. I’m still wondering why the city needs to do it so soon after the previous work on it.

Hiroshima, 65 years later

Let’s say you’re the president of the United States. You’ve been in office just a few weeks, having replaced a beloved man who had served for 12 years; he had just taken the oath for his fourth term before he died of a cerebral hemorrhage.

Then your braintrust comes to you and says, “Mr. President, we want to tell you about something. There’s this project out in New Mexico we’ve been working on that we think is going to end the war — quickly.” You agree to take a look at the information on this secret matter, called the Manhattan Project.

Then you learn about a very big bomb that can kill tens of thousands of people in an instant. You ponder what you have just learned for a few moments and then say, “OK, let’s do it. We have to end this war before we kill many more thousands of our guys and possibly millions of theirs.”

That was the situation facing President Harry Truman in mid-1945. He didn’t know about The Bomb until he took office. Then, 65 years ago today, he ordered a B-29 Stratofortress to take off for Japan. It carried a single explosive. The plane, piloted by Army Air Force Col. Paul Tibbetts, dropped the bomb on Hiroshima. Three days later, a second bomb fell on Nagasaki. And just a few days after that, Japan threw up the white flag of surrender.

The war was over.

I have a particular stake in this event. My father was in the Philippines at the time preparing — along with hundreds of thousands of other servicemen — to invade the Japanese homeland. Dad had seen his share of combat already in the Mediterranean theater — North Africa, Sicily and Italy. His naval duty put him in harm’s way countless times.

I cannot say this with absolute certainty, but given all he had seen in the Med, it well might have been that Dad’s number would have been up had the United States invaded Japan. All the conventional wisdom on the planet at the time suggested that perhaps millions of people would have died in the attempt to subdue the Japanese. Were that the case, and he met his end, well … that would have precluded yours truly from ever entering this world.

Dad survived. He came home, got married — on Aug. 24, 1946 — and started his family.

I have owed President Truman my gratitude ever since for stiffening his backbone and making the toughest decision of his life.

We can debate until we run out of breath over the rightness of the decision. As the son of someone who stood at the gates of hell preparing for the fight of his life, I have no particular interest in such an intellectual exercise. My interests in what President Truman did are more, um, personal.

Thank you, Mr. President.

Who cares about this milestone?

Alex Rodriguez hit his 600th career home run Wednesday and what does he get? A collective yawn from the sporting public, unless you live in and around New York City.

Is there any surprise? Of course not.

A-Rod has admitted using steroids back when he played for the Texas Rangers. Well, he’s hitting dingers for the New York Yankees these days. He became only the seventh player in major league history to pass the 600-HR mark, but no one seems to care.

He cheated to get there.

I recall the day when such a milestone created almost a national holiday. Willie Mays hit No. 600 and we stopped in awe. Hank Aaron’s 600th and then his 700th career HRs were cause for dancing in the streets.

These days? Big deal. A-Rod’s 600th is seen by millions of fans as just another home run.

I used to truly root for Rodriguez to break Barry Bonds’ career home run mark of 762. But that was before he admitted to using ‘roids — after denying it for many years prior to that.

Now? I don’t give a rip.

Wait’ll next time — maybe

To no one’s surprise, certainly not mine, my jury summons ended with a recorded phone message last night that told me I need not report this morning to the Randall County Justice Center.

All jurors summoned for duty were excused until the next time we’re called for duty, the recorded message said.

Call me out to lunch, but I have been waiting for years to serve on a trial jury. I keep getting these directives to report for jury duty, but far more often than not the litigants all settle before these cases go to trial.

Once, not long after moving to Amarillo, I did get a summons and reported for duty in Canyon. I sat in a jury impaneling room for most of the morning. In walked then-47th District Judge David Gleason, who thanked us for taking time out of our day to report for duty. He then told us are services were no longer required.

Drat!

I still got paid $6 for my half day of “work” on behalf of the state’s criminal justice system.

I’m hoping my moment will arrive — one of these days.

How about this question, governor?

http://www.foxnews.com/on-air/fox-news-sunday/#/v/4299765/sarah-palin-on-fns/?playlist_id=86913

Check out the link here. It shows former half-term Alaska Gov. Sarah “Barracuda” Palin declare that President Obama lacks the “cojones” to enforce federal immigration law.

Her appearance on Fox News Sunday was interesting as well in the question that the show’s host, Chris Wallace, didn’t ask her to follow up on her statement about the president’s manhood.

Imagine this question:

“Governor, you say that President Obama isn’t man enough to enforce federal immigration law. But in fairness, governor, this illegal immigration crisis didn’t begin with the current president. His immediate predecessor, George W. Bush, faced the same problem. So did his predecessors: Bill Clinton, George H.W. Bush, Ronald Reagan, Jimmy Carter, Gerald Ford, Richard Nixon, Lyndon Johnson, you name ’em. This list covers both political parties. Did these men lack the same qualities you say is lacking in the current president?”

Jury duty calls — maybe

Jury duty awaits me … at least I hope it does.

But I’m not holding my breath.

I got a summons the other day from Randall County District Clerk Jo Carter’s office. I’ve been assigned a juror number and a panel number. I’m going to call the clerk’s office this afternoon, after 5, to see if I need to report Tuesday to the County Justice Center in Canyon. They might cancel the whole thing, which has happened the past few times I’ve been summoned for jury duty.

Unlike many of us, I actually want to serve on a jury. District and county clerks all across Texas lament the no-show rate of those called for jury duty. Their gripe is an understandable one, given that they are charged with summoning citizens to perform this important rite of citizenship. But some of us don’t take it seriously enough.

I’m not placing myself on some pedestal here. It’s just that I’ve always wanted to serve on a trial jury just because the process always has fascinated me. Do the jurors argue among themselves? How do they reach a unanimous verdict? What kind of arm-twisting goes on?

However, I’ve found that my occupation often precludes such an event from occurring. I guess journalists are considered “too knowledgeable” about certain cases to qualify them for a spot on an actual civil or criminal trial jury.

Well, I’ll hope for the best when the time comes later today. And in my case, the “best” means realistically that I’ll report for duty — even if it means I’ll likely get disqualified.

Barbs from the left and the right

Do you ever have one of those days?

I recently had one of them … in which I wondered how two people with vastly different political philosophies can sound so astoundingly alike.

Two contributors to our Opinion page have been sniping at me in private. They’re both Amarillo residents. One of them is an arch-conservative; the other one is an ultra-liberal. I’ve had friendly relations — off and on — with both of them over many years.

The righty recently accused me of pandering to the left. He said I set a different standard for his submissions than I do for others of the liberal persuasion; I am stricter with him than with the lefties, he said. He said the newspaper’s Opinion page tilts too far to the left, at which point I informed him that conservative columnists outnumber liberals week in and week out. At this moment, the righty and I are on good terms. But that could change.

As for the lefty gadfly, he says I pander to the right-wing “nut jobs” in Amarillo. He, too, says I set a different standard for him than I do for those on the right. He accuses the aforementioned righty of having some kind of “hold” on me. The lefty vows to meet with me only in the presence of a third party, which he identifies as either a “lawyer or a priest.” We are on unfriendly terms at the moment.

I told the righty that he sounds just like the lefty in his gripes with the way I do my job. I said the two of them are “mirror images of each other.” He asked me, “We both can’t be right. Which one of us is right?” My answer: I don’t know, or care.

I’ve told the lefty the same thing, that he sounds just like the guy at the other end of the spectrum. I don’t think he believes me.

So, the way I look at it, if both of these polar opposites think ill of me, I must be doing something right.

There. I feel better already.

Where have you been, Kinky?

I miss Kinky Friedman.

I just heard him tell a TV interviewer that the nation’s first order of business is to secure the border. True enough. But then the humorist, author and former Texas gubernatorial candidate — he ran for governor in 2006 as an independent candidate — went a step further.

He opposes building a fence along the southern border, an idea getting some traction among Republicans. Why not build a fence? “The way things are going in this country,” Friedman said, “we may want to get out.”

Looking ’em in the eye

Randall County Tax Assessor-Collector Sharon Hollingsworth wanted her employees to look their “bosses” right in the eye when they talk to them.

So what did the county do? It elevated the floor behind the counter at the tax office to — shall we say — level the playing field.

The tax office is in newly remodeled digs across the street from its old digs next to the 1909 Courthouse building. The North Annex will be razed as soon as crews remove asbestos. The new tax office, on the second floor of what used to be the DA’s office and the county jail, is shiny and new.

It also features an elevated floor that puts tax office employees at eye level with constituents who come to pay their taxes, renew their auto registration — or complain about their tax bill. In the old office, customers stood over employees, which Hollingsworth hinted was a bit intimidating for tax office staffers, especially if a taxpayer became agitated.

The new office is much more customer- and employee-friendly.

And when we’re talking about the public’s tax money, every little bit of comfort helps all around.

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