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Back in the 60s, one of the most common thing for us kids in high school to do after school was to âmake the dragâ. That meant riding around down east on Broadway until we got to Rayâs Drive In (pictured) which was one block east of Hailey. They had a way to turn in, and go through the parking lot so you could then get back on Broadway and go west to the Square.
Dear Editor,
I'd like to share with you my thoughts on Boston. The tragedy outlines many forgotten fundamental proofs. It doesn't matter how many laws you pass. Crime will happen. It doesn't matter how many protections you take. Harm can be done.
It doesn't matter how much safety procedures you have in place. Tragedy will find a way. You can use anything as your guardian shield. Law. Religion. Education. It doesn't matter. Atrocities WILL occur.
Terrorism: Noun: The use of violence and intimidation in the pursuit of political aims.
When tragedy strikes it is often times that people lose their faith in humanity. In incidents of our past this much is true. How many of us trembled when we felt our world stand still in horror when the towers fell? How many of us shook our heads in shame when a shooter took aim on patrons of a movie theater? How many of us felt our ground shake when a shooter opened fire on defenseless children?Â
Dear Editor,
We would like to express our sincerest and deepest gratitude for the outpouring of food, monetary support and uplifting thoughts and prayers during our time of great sorrow and loss. It is during those times we realize how truly blessed we are to be incorporated into such a great circle of family and friends. May God bless the lives of each and every one of you.
Recently I heard someone reporting that according to recent figures, one in five American children lives in poverty. Well, so much for winning the war on poverty. I wonder how many trillions of dollars we have wasted (and are still wasting) funding federal programs and their legions of drone bureaucrats, in order to lose the war on poverty.
When I was growing up, summer meant a pilgrimage to Moran for an extended visit with my maternal grandparents. Most of the year, we lived in a suburb of Cincinnati, with the conveniences of urban living â including garbage pickup. While Moran called itself a city (and still does, I believe) at least at that time, there was no provision for garbage disposal. My grandparents had a large concrete structure in the back yard, which resembled nothing as much as an immense beehive.
Different groups, from scouts to schools to fire departments and clubs have raised money through raffles and drawings for years. Periodically, someone becomes involved in whatever group governs them who questions whether or not these drawings are legal. Invariably, that results in a call to either the County or District attorney - - and the answer received is not always appreciated!
As I was growing up in the â60s, I was very happy when I got my first job at the Sweetwater Reporter as a route carrier. My mom was raising us kids and the money didnât get around very far, but with me having a job, I had planned to contribute to the family and hopefully make life better for all.
Something that happened recently, which I thought was pretty notable, was The Barackâs limousine, nicknamed âThe Beastâ (which I find very appropriate), breaking down in Israel. Truthfully, other than when this same car, or maybe one of its look alike copies was stuck on a sharply angled drive sometime back, I hadnât given the Presidential limo a lot of thought.
CNN on line recently ran an article concerning two World War II pilots. One had been returning to base in a badly torn B-17, his crew injured, dead and dying. The other was a German fighter pilot who saw the wounded aircraft and went after it. When he realized the condition of the crew, he took a protective stance and saw the Allied craft safe from German ground fire until close to safety â despite the fact that one more âkillâ would have made him an ace.
