Monthly Archives: January 2025

Four Years and a Day

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On television yesterday, I heard comments alluding to January 6, 2021. The usual cast of characters, but that’s neither here nor there. It was wrong to compare January 6 to September 11, 2001, December 7, 1941, WWII as a whole, the Holocaust, and slavery.

There is no comparison to an attack on the country that kills over 2000 using planes as flying missiles without warning. It is not even close to four jetliners turned into flying missiles, hitting three buildings and another location, resulting in the death of 2977 Americans; 2403 killed in a sneak attack on Pearl Harbor; 419,000 Americans in WWII; 6M-11,000,000 during the Holocaust. Slavery is more difficult because of the about 12.5 million from Africa; 388,000 were brought to the now United States. The death rate was 14.5%, so to America, the number is 56,260.

One person died as a direct result of violence on January 6, 2021. Using the other events as a comparison is illogical. As the scale, what is known as J6 was a small riot.

It wasn’t just the media. Certain politicians joined in giving divisive speeches, blaming then-President Trump and, in some cases, those who supported him. It’s been called an insurrection even though, to my knowledge, no one was armed, no one has been charged with insurrection, and by definition, it wasn’t one.

Were the actions of January 6 justified? No. Without wanting to sound like a whataboutism, was the 2020 summer of rioting resulting in death and destruction an insurrection or rioting? After all, there was much more death and destruction.

Yesterday could have been a time of healing. Unfortunately, it wasn’t, as it did not seem to be a goal. I used the word divisive because it is. It may also be a diversion to how poorly the country is doing or how well it will do in the future.

This should serve as a lesson for everyone.

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With each new policy from Biden by the stroke of his pen, Democrats seem to be increasingly undermining their credibility. It’s becoming clear how damaging Biden and his administration’s actions are, revealing their readiness to block the reforms and changes that align with the American public’s desires.

Ultimately, they are showing their true intentions, seemingly unconcerned with the nation’s well-being. They have no intention of shifting from this path of obstruction, even if it leads to further harm in the future.

 

 

 

55

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Fifty-five years ago, a 59-year-old man drove east on State Route 82 on a cold, windy, and snowy night. The lines on the roadway weren’t visible. Coming from the opposite was a younger man.

The older man was returning from Cleveland after visiting relatives, where he shared drinks and stories. The younger man was returning home from college and had stopped at a bar called Ernie’s to relax and enjoy a few drinks.

At close to 10:00 p.m., they would meet on a curve just west of Bissell Road. Due to road conditions and poor visibility, both vehicles rounded the curve left of center. In an instant of time, a moment so short it can only be called an infinitesimal interval in time, whose passage is instantaneous. But in that time, lives end, and those left behind are forever changed.

I’ve written about my grandfather before, and I could speak of his virtues and vices here, and he certainly had both, but another time.

On that Monday night, I was 17 in bed listening to my clock radio. I didn’t hear the phone ring, but I could hear the shrieks outside my room. Trying to listen to music angered me to the point of getting up, opening my bedroom door, and, unusual for me at home, yelling to demand an answer to what was going on. That’s when I learned my grandfather was dead, and the sounds I heard were the screams of pain of his daughter, my mom when the news was received.

The medical reports indicated my grandfather may have suffered a heart attack just before the cars collided, but it wasn’t conclusive. The only thing that could be conclusive was he died that night, as did another man.

I had a close bond with my grandfather. I’ve always felt it was closer than anyone else in the family, but it’s unfair to say it as a fact. Still, though, I believe it. A significant change for me was moving in with my grandmother, who lived upstairs at his namesake, Andy’s Bar. I would finish out my junior and senior years there.

The move left me without parental supervision when I needed it. My curfew was now 2:30 a.m., and I would meet it, but school and attendance suffered. It’s also a time when temptation leads the young to take on risky behavior, and the lack of guidance only exacerbates what you can call venturesome or dangerous activity. As I stated toward the top, the lives of others can change; mine did.