Tech Killed the Pony Express

One hundred sixty-five years ago on this date in 1860, the Pony Express launched its first mail run from St. Joseph, Missouri, to Sacramento, California, covering 1,900 miles in about 10 days—a feat that slashed communication time across the U.S. just before the Civil War.

It relied on young riders who swapped horses at 157 relay stations and braved blizzards, bandits, and attacks by Native tribes to deliver 34,753 letters over 18 months, losing only one bag across 616,000 miles.

Starting with 49 letters and newspapers, including Lincoln’s inaugural address, it charged $5 per half-ounce and used 400+ horses, but it bled money—$200,000 to start, $7 million today, and no profit. The service ran 308 trips until October 24, 1861, when the transcontinental telegraph ended its reign, leaving riders jobless two days later.

It was a romantic piece of Western history, but little more. By the way, a few months ago, a person sent me a letter from Columbus, a distance of 151 miles. It took the USPS 10 days to get the letter to me. The Pony Express would have taken less than a day, and even during my mountain hiking days, I could have beaten the USPS.

 

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Forever Young

 

“They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green,”– Psalms 92:14 (NIV)

Psalm 92:14 is an encouraging reminder that growth, vitality, and purpose need not fade with age. It offers comfort to those who fear growing older might limit their ability to contribute or flourish.

But in faith, we have a spiritual timelessness where one continues to bear “fruit.” I think it refers to the qualities we associate with age, such as wisdom and perhaps influence.

We know when it speaks of staying “fresh and green.” It would be a renewed purpose and energy, opposite the normal decline associated with aging. For me, it’s like being in November, maybe even December, of my life, but with a promise that my remaining time can be meaningful and rewarding.

Have a blessed Sunday
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National Vietnam War Veterans Day- March 29th

 

 

National Vietnam War Veterans Day- March 29th
Welcome Home

Addendum: 3-29-2025
To Vietnam War Veterans: Your courage amid chaos, your sacrifice amid a divided nation, and your unwavering duty to the country shine as a testament to honor. On this Vietnam Veterans Day, we salute you—heroes of a hard-fought era, forever etched in America’s story. Thank you.
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This day was first recognized by proclamation in 2012 and subsequently by an Act signed by the President in 2017. March 29 was chosen as National Vietnam War Veterans Day because on March 29, 1973, Military Assistance Command, Vietnam was disbanded, and the last U.S. combat troops left the Republic of Vietnam.

Please don’t tell me we lost the war or that it wasn’t worth it. You would be deprecating those who sacrificed, and the sacrifice was great.

More than 58,000 young men and women lost their lives there. This includes three from a little town in Ohio called Mantua, including a friend known to all as Bobby Zoller. In addition, more than 300,000 were physically wounded in Vietnam. It’s estimated that 75,000 were left severely disabled from their physical wounds.

There are also the emotional scars of battle. We call it PTSD. The numbers aren’t precisely known, but the range is 15% of those serving to as many as 30% have gone through the tortuous journey of PTSD at some point. When you consider 2.7 million served, well, do the math.

This day was created in 2017 “to give Americans the opportunity to say ‘Welcome Home’ to a group of veterans who never got the reception they deserved when they returned to the United States.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joe Frazier, Muhammad Ali, and George Foreman

 

Step into the ring with Joe Frazier, Muhammad Ali, and George Foreman—three fighters who dominated boxing’s golden era in the 1970s. Epic, brutal showdowns tie together their legacies.

Joe, to me, was the toughest of the trio—a relentless bulldog who’d chew through anything. He proved it in 1971’s “Fight of the Century,” flooring Ali and handing “The Greatest” with his first loss.

But then came Foreman. George turned Joe into a human punching back, knocking him down six times in two rounds in 1973. Yet Frazier kept rising back to his feet, a testament to his grit.

Then there’s Ali, the dazzling king of the ring, a slick-talking genius who didn’t just fight—he put on a show. I’d argue he’s “The Greatest” for a damn good reason: he danced circles around foes, then faced Foreman in 1974’s “Rumble in the Jungle.”

Ali let George punch himself out before dropping him in the eighth round. He then took on Frazier in a trilogy for the ages, winning two of three, his jab sharp, and proving he could take a punch. Ali died in 2016, but boxing fans still remember his lightning-fast magic in the ring.

George? A wrecking ball with sledgehammer fists—68 knockouts in 76 wins say it all. Polished? Not in my book. He was raw and unrefined, but I believe if he had tougher fights before the Ali fight, he might’ve stayed on his feet longer in Zaire. Still, I wouldn’t bet on him winning.

Foreman’s takes twists wilder: humbled by Ali, he quit in ’77, then came back a decade later, snagging the title at 45 in 1994—oldest champ ever. By the time he passed yesterday, March 21, 2025, at 76, he’d turned teddy bear—funny, lovable, hawking grills, and preaching peace.

All gone now. Frazier’s grit, Ali’s magic, Foreman’s redemption—a legacy so colossal I feel damn lucky to have lived it.

 

 

 

 

 

Holly Near, My Parents, and Me

When I saw this in my Facebook memories yesterday, it sparked two thoughts. First, it reminded me of how my parents—especially my dad—taught me to debate. Starting around age 13 or 14, my dad and I would pick a current event, take a stance on whether it was good or bad, and argue it out. One of us would start, and the other had to take the opposite side. It was a fantastic way to learn debate, even if it meant defending a position I didn’t always agree with. We did this every Sunday until I graduated high school and then occasionally for about 35 years until my mom passed away.

Sundays made sense for it, I suppose. As a family, we’d watch the news shows, wrapping up with 60 Minutes in the evening, and there was always the massive Sunday paper to draw from. I tried the same exercise with my daughter and, later, my stepdaughter. It worked better with my daughter, though I know she hated it—I suspect they both did.

Second, it brought to mind an interview I did with Holly Near for the campus newspaper at Kent State. Looking back, her quote struck me as ironic given her history, but she was spot on. All parents should do this with their kids. Just don’t be surprised if they resent you for it.