STEEL PENCIL NEWS REVIEW

MAY 19, 2026

VOLUME 148

CURRENT NEWS FROM A CENTER-RIGHT PERSPECTIVE, WITH A DASH OF PATRIOTISM.

INDEPENDENCE DAY PARADE CIRCA 1955. A SCENE FROM MY IMAGINATION.

WHAT I AM SEEING AND HOW IT MAKES ME FEEL ABOUT MY COUNTRY RIGHT NOW

How I view the world was undoubtedly shaped by being born in 1941, watching my family and people around me deal with the seriousness of the most consequential war since the Revolutionary War. Then living through the social revolution of the sixties and seventies. People of my age group, have a mindset like no other. That said, we are disappearing daily from old age, and old age-related diseases. If you are part of a high school alumni group that you keep in touch with, you are very aware of your mortality.

I created the picture above because it is very indicative of the place where I grew up. What you see in the picture are people, mostly of European descent, gathered peacefully, expressing their love for our great nation, their families and communities. The only freak shows you saw in those days were the ones that came to town with the carnivals.

I’m not naive, there have always been people who were “different” and gay folks have been around since the beginning of time. When I was growing up, gays, lesbians and otherwise strange folk kept a low profile, it was not a good idea to be too open, it could be dangerous. So, there were always people that you would consider a sub-culture, even though on the surface it all looked serene and peaceful.

So, by now, you are probably asking, what is the point. My point is, although all of the same stuff was going on then, that is going on now, the mainstream culture made it clear what it would tolerate and what it wouldn’t. I absolutely do not condone violence against others, but in order for a society to exist in a peaceful and orderly manner, restraint must be exercised by everyone. The majority of society did not agree with the alternative life styles, didn’t want their children exposed to it. The folks that lived the alternative lives, needed to be aware of that, and respect the majorities wishes. That is the formula for people of different stripes to coexist. Simple. Key word “respect”.

RESPECT; NOT MUCH OF IT LEFT

Let’s start at the bottom and work our way up to understand what has happened to that wonderful word “respect”. It all starts in the family home, that is the birthplace of respect. It starts with the parents. The mom and dad have a solemn duty to exhibit respect for each other, along with expressing their love for one another. They must make certain the offspring respect and show their love for one another as well. Love and respect are the most important lessons children can be taught. It determines the way they treat others they come in contact with, in the future. Secondly, and equally important is the respect for authority. The children need to be aware that mom and dad are in charge, period, not debatable. Parents need to stand firm from the time the child is born until that child leaves home. This is the formula for raising children that are able to navigate life more successfully. A parent’s weakness in exhibition of authority, creates problems later, that can be impossible to deal with.

Schools in my day were rife with authority figures. If you got out of line at school, you were punished in any number of ways, plus you had to answer to your parents. You were hit with a “double whammy”. Not a pleasant experience. When you were graded for your work, it was an honest grade. If you weren’t performing your work, you received a failing grade. Another experience that you didn’t want to go through. Also, if you failed, your peers looked down on you, another unpleasant experience. So, if you wanted to be able to walk with your head held high, you towed the line. Another valuable lesson for living a successful life.

Then, sometime in the sixties, a horrible thing happened. The traditional family started to disappear, and they went soft on the kiddos. That was the beginning of the end for respect. It was all downhill after that. The pictures below are the result.

So, this is all the result of failed families, failed public education, failed institutions of higher learning and failing to hold people accountable for their actions. The inmates have taken over the asylum. I don’t give a rat’s ass what you are, who you sleep with, what you do with your genitals, just keep it to yourself. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re a vegan, or a vegetarian. I ain’t none of those things, and I ain’t never gonna be any of those things. So don’t try to sell me on the fact that you’re somehow superior to me, a straight white, Christian male. Keep that shit to yourselves.

I respect my fellow man, and try my best not to be offensive and disrespectful of my neighbor. I respect everyone’s property, their rights to be who and what they are. Just don’t burden me with your mental illness bullshit.

We are living in the best damn country on the planet you are given the right to be who and what you want to be. In spite of this, we have a growing number of folks that express extreme hatred for the nation and 95% of its inhabitants. I sincerely believe if you feel this way, you need to pack up your shit and find somewhere else to live. I’m totally happy here, and you are causing me to be unhappy seeing your sorry asses. I can say this with absolute pride, my family took up residence in America in 1700 and we have been here ever since. Old glory is my flag, United States is my home. I might be 85 years old but I’m still a damn good shot, and I’m willing to defend the Republic and all of its glory. If you don’t like it, you can kiss my old wrinkly ass.

God bless America, God bless our President. Stay safe, stay vigilant. stay free.

VERITAS VINCIT ~ LIVE FREE OR DIE

STEEL PENCIL CHRISTMAS

DECEMBER 23, 2025

VOLUME ONE

First of all, that picture isn’t me or any of my family members, just a photo I grabbed off the internet. Why not an authentic photo? Because I’m too dang lazy to climb up in the loft and go through old photo albums. I seem to get lazier the older I get. Last night after dinner, my dog and I retired to the big recliner, and I promptly went to sleep and woke up about 10:00 pm. There just ain’t nothin’ like a big ol’ recliner and a warm doggie. Now this wasn’t the smartest move, because by the time I actually went to bed I was wide awake. Aren’t you supposed to get smarter the older you get? Well, I don’t think it’s working on me.

I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that it’s Christmas again already. It seems like it was only last week we were camping on the coast enjoying the wonderful pacific northwest summer. This year has been a blur; it’s like our lives are on “fast forward”. We don’t have any family anywhere close, they all bailed out for the southwest and sunshine. Left the old timers up here in the mucky wet, cold weather. That said it’s a little hard to really catch the Christmas spirit with no youngins around. So, the last few days, I have been doing a little reminiscing about Christmases we had when I was a youngin.

Men go through four phases of life. 1. You believe in Santa Clause 2. You no longer believe in Santa Clause 3. You become Santa Clause 4. You look like Santa Clause. I don’t remember when I figured out my dad was really Santa, but we still carried on the tradition of opening gifts on Christmas morning as long as I lived in my parent’s home. I carried on the tradition with my own family until my kids got married. It’s a wonderful tradition, so many wonderful memories from those days.

This is where I have to honor my parents. My father was an orphan, parents died when he was about 10 years old. Ran away from the orphans home at 16. Pretty loosely connected family from the hills of southeastern Oklahoma. Real deal red necks. He never looked back, was on his own from 16 years old on. Met my mom when he was nineteen, married her at twenty. She was eighteen.

My mom’s family was fairly large, four sisters, two brothers. They lived in a two-room shanty with no running water. Pure poverty. Father was an alcoholic, died from alcoholism in 1942. Whatever money the family had, he drank it. My grandmother lived in that house until her death sometime in the late 60’s. She had bed, a radio, an above floor heater, a kitchen stove, refrigerator and a table. I remember a small table by her easy chair. She probably had four dresses and a couple of pair of shoes when she died. In spite of having virtually nothing, she had a wonderful attitude, and a sweet personality until the day she died. The woman never owned a bathtub or an automobile.

In spite of their childhoods, my parents were about as good as they come. My dad was rock steady in every way. My mom was a loving, caring, hardworking housewife that looked after her kids like they were pure gold. I can remember her staying by my side when I was sick with the normal childhood diseases like mumps, measles, chicken pox, and all of my other childhood ailments. Likewise with my older sisters. Love and laughter was present in our home around the clock.

As you can see, my parents took their jobs very seriously. They made sure every holiday was a fun family event. But they went the extra mile to make sure Christmas was special. My mom and sisters would make candy and cookies for several days before Christmas, my mom and dad would buy an assortment of nuts and fruits to munch on during holidays. My dad was a good marksman, and always brought home a large turkey from the “turkey shoot”. (look it up)

This may sound like we were a wealthy family. Nope! My dad was a welder in a boiler shop, my mom was a homemaker. My mom was a very frugal homemaker. She saved what little money she had throughout the year, so her family could have a nice Christmas. Not an elaborate Christmas, but ample. The gifts although simple and not expensive were cherished treasures. Christmas was pure magic in our home. The weeks leading up to Christmas were exciting and filled with anticipation. And we always visited my granny in her little, tiny house with her little, tiny Christmas tree.

As old people, our Christmases may be a lot quieter, and a little different, but we have wonderful memories of times past, and lot of close friends with similar lives. We are going to have Christmas dinner with some our dear friends and my grandson from Seattle, so it’s going to be another memorable Christmas for the books. Lot’s of love and laughter, and good food.

I sincerely hope all of you have a joyous Christmas holiday, and a wonderful New Year. God bless you all.

VERITAS VINCIT ~ LIVE FREE OR DIE

THE VIEW FROM ST. CHARLES

APRIL 5, 2025

VOLUME 64

FEELING GRATEFUL TODAY

I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about the past. I have a very active life in the present. I have a friend that literally lives in the past. When you sit and talk with him, he has dozens of pictures on his phone from his days as a young man working as a construction carpenter. I avoid getting into conversations with him, so I don’t have to see his pictures for the 50th time. He’s a nice enough guy but damn he’s boring. All old guys like to reminisce about how things used to be, but you have to find new people to tell your stories to. You’ve obviously heard the saying; “The older I get, the better I was”.

That said, sometimes something triggers my mind that takes me back. That happened this morning when I was reading a news article about Tina Louise. She was the glamour girl on the TV sitcom “Gilligan’s Island”. Wow, her life as a child was a sad story. By the way, not to make you feel really old, but she just celebrated her 91st birthday.

It caused me to reflect on my own childhood, which by the way was unquestionably the best years of my life. That’s how it should be. Your childhood should be the best years of your life. Your body is brand new, everything works great, you can run as fast as you can for as far as you can, rest ten minutes and do it again. The best part is there is no residual pain for the next three days. You lay your tired little body down in bed, go to sleep immediately, and don’t wake up until sunrise. You didn’t have to get up and pee three times.

Every single day of my life while living in my parents’ home (with the rare exception of my mom being ill) I woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking and coffee brewing. How great is that. I got dressed went to the kitchen and mom had four or five menu items I could choose from. During the school year she would help me get ready, give me a hug and kiss, and send me on my way. She just made it impossible for me to have a bad attitude, while filling me with gratitude. I loved and adored my mom.

I rarely saw my dad in the mornings, he had already left for work. My special time with my dad came later in the day. I would walk up to the intersection about a block north of our house and wait for him. He would pull over and stop, I would climb onto the running board of the car, he would put his arm around me to keep me from falling off. When we got to the house, he would open his lunch box and give me a Hostess cupcake he saved for me. Just a simple little ritual that created a cherished memory.

My mom had an established dinner hour (called supper back then). It wasn’t optional. It happened the same time every day except Sunday. You were expected to be there, your face and hands washed. It as a serious event. Talking was kept to a minimum. Fun and laughter were reserved for after supper. If you acted out during supper, you were seriously reprimanded.

Holidays were celebrated with vigor in the family home. My father was blue collar worker, with a modest income, and my mom was a homemaker. So, my parents obviously didn’t have a large disposable income. That didn’t stop them from creating really fun holiday events. We would get together with aunts, uncles, and cousins. the ladies would cook up some great food, the men made homemade ice cream, and we played until we were exhausted.

Summer vacations were always on a river or lake. My dad was an avid fisherman, and my mom would cook up his daily catch. Of course, the trips to and from in my dad’s 1930’s and 1940’s cars were always and adventure as well. One terribly stormy night coming home from the lake, our 1937 Plymouth quit running as we came into a small town. My dad nursed it to a garage and got it repaired. While it was being repaired, a tornado came very close to the town. The truck and auto repair shop was in a tin covered building. My mom got all of us kids and we sat under a semi-truck inside the garage until the storm passed. The wind, rain and hail pounding down on that tin building was terrifying.

Kids today have dozens of electronic devices available to them for entertainment. We had TV and radio. We didn’t have a TV until I was nine years old. The only thing on it that I wanted to see was the western movies on Sunday afternoon. We actually interacted as a family during the evening hours, talking and playing games. Working on hobby projects, doing jig saw puzzles. Simple stuff, but fun. Summertime on the front porch drinking iced tea and listening to my dad’s stories about his early years we heard countless times but somehow never got old.

Both of my parents have been gone for a long time now. I don’t think I conveyed the message very well of how much I appreciated what they did for me. As a matter of fact, I know I didn’t, and I regret that. If you’re fortunate enough to have a living parent or two, and they provided you with a happy childhood, and supported your endeavors no matter how crazy, let them know you appreciate it and love them for it.

Tag: family