
“I have pleaded (labor’s) case, not in the quavering tones of a feeble mendicant asking alms, but in the thundering voice of the captain of a mighty host, demanding the rights to which free men are entitled.”

“I have pleaded (labor’s) case, not in the quavering tones of a feeble mendicant asking alms, but in the thundering voice of the captain of a mighty host, demanding the rights to which free men are entitled.”

The photo above shows a landline desk phone my parents got some 30 years ago beside a cell phone I got in 2017. One of them died a long, slow, painful death, and the other is still functioning fully and completely. Anyone older than 30 surely can figure out which is which.
I got my first cell phone in October 2001. At the time only about half of all households in the U.S. had at least one cell phone. They were commonly associated with business professionals and the elite. Now it seems everyone and their pets own such a device. Since 2001 I’ve gone through at least 5 cell phones. To put things in perspective, I still have a digital clock/radio my parents bought me in 1978, and it’s been functioning ever since.
My truck is 20 years old. That’s the longest I’ve ever had a vehicle, and I find it somewhat surprising. Products of almost any kind in recent years just don’t seem to last too long. That a cell phone would crash faster than Donald Trump’s economic plans says quite a bit about the companies that build these devices.
No wonder American consumers are cynical!
But I now feel it’s a corporate conspiracy. Large companies now deliberately make products with a finite lifespan; therefore, people have to buy replacements or repair their current items. I guess it’s a scheme devised to keep people financially destitute.
Or maybe it’s just that too much of these things are made overseas where workers don’t really give a shit how they put it together.
Regardless, it’s amazing what consumers have to do now to remain viable members of society.
Filed under Essays

As this Independence Day weekend comes to a close, I have to say I’m still proud to have been born and raised in this country. Admittedly it’s been difficult to feel that way in recent years. My paternal ancestry in Texas actually extends back to the 1580s, when a branch of the De La Garza clan joined other Spaniards established homes in the southern part of the state. My Indian ancestors, of course, were in this same region millennia ago.
I remember America’s Bicentennial very clearly. I was 12 and became swept up in the excitement of that summer’s festivities. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the U.S. came together as no one expected. The Watergate crisis had left our nation with an incredible distrust in our elected leaders, and we had slinked our way out of the Vietnam conflict the previous year. Along with oil embargoes and energy crises from a few years later and the swine flu scare, it had become tough to feel pride in this country.
But all of that seemed to melt away with the summer heat, as America basked in its own glory. Watching vintage ships off the east coast remains an especially poignant memory. I can never forget that summer and how it made everyone feel.
I just don’t feel that same level of exuberance now. I know I’ve become cynical – something that seems natural with age. But in the half century since the Bicentennial a few things look familiar. We have a Republican president; we’ve come out of some disastrous wars; we’ve had a severe economic downturn and a pandemic that made swine flu look like a brief head cold.
I often wonder how foreigners look at Americans, although I’m not too concerned with what others think. Again – an effect of aging, albeit a positive one.
Despite such anxiety, I’m still glad to be here and be living in this country. I just don’t want to give up on it and for what it stands.
Filed under News