THOUGHTS IN BRIEF OR AT LENGTH ...
December 6, 2005
CLOSING THE BARN DOOR
Much like in his delayed response to victims of Hurricane Katrina this summer, President Bush has finally noticed something that should have been obvious in his war on terrorism.
Our borders are far from being secure, and one can't help but wonder how many potential terrorists and other enemies of the United States have already crossed the border between Mexico and the U.S. since Sept. 11, 2001.
More than four years after the world changed forever with the terrorist attacks on New York City and Washington, DC, the president recently took a brief tour of the border, not even getting out of his vehicle except for a photo opportunity with the Border Patrol and to proclaim that some degree of security and law enforcement would be enhanced there.
Any estimate of illegal aliens who have come to this country by way of Mexico would probably be inaccurate since no one really knows, but the numbers are obviously high.
Look around many communities in the U.S., particularly in the South and in Florida (where residents don't consider themselves to be a Southern state). The Mexican population in the U.S. has increased many times over, working in jobs that American whites and blacks seem to think they are too good to do.
Most are probably here illegally. Many likely want to work and achive the "American Dream," while those who don't want to work often engage in criminal activities. And what is amazing is that little seems to have been done in regard to this matter.
Bush even wants to allow work privileges for these folks for a certain period of time, seeming to condone the influx that impacts our already suffering social and health programs.
The disturbing fact is that if so many Mexicans can cross the border without being noticed or caught, what is to stop those who would like to do serious damage to the U.S. from doing the same thing? How many terrorist cells might there already be here who eluded the publicized security measures we all know so much about?
It's like the proverbial closing of the barn door after the animals have gone.
One would think that one of the first things that our leaders would have done after that horrible day in 2001 would be to increase the numbers of those patrolling our borders, both north and south. It seems that an effective measure would have been to station U.S. troops at strategic points along the entire border and give them the same authority that our soldiers in Iraq have at checkpoints there.
Yes, the numbers of military people might be large, but likely wouldn't approach the numbers now on the ground in Iraq, trying valiantly to win a war that has no end in sight.
Indeed, using some of our armed forces to protect our borders would be costly -- but probably cheaper than the battle in Iraq has been. Too, the number of potential casualties would be minimal in comparison.
This is not to insult our Border Patrol. Those folks are doing the best they can with what they've got, and the proposed increased technology to detect intruders from the south will be some help. However, nothing can replace human presence, and citizens of the entire country would probably sleep better at night that our troops would be on American soil, in our own airspace and in the waters along our shores.
If Mexicans or people from any other country want to be U.S. citizens, living and working here in peace, they should do it legally. They could still do the so-called menial jobs if they wanted -- and they would be needed -- and have the comfort of being legitimate.
Most Americans wouldn't mind. Business people are obviously content to sell out their businesses to foreign interests anyway, and many might even be eager to join them in low-paying jobs as companies in the United States fire or lay off more and more employees, giving their jobs to folks overseas who don't -- or can't -- demand a lot of pay.
Perhaps we can't really blame the president and his administration for closing the barn door after the inhabitants had already gone elsewhere. After all, our complacency and lack of interest allowed them to do it. And still there are only a few voices to indicate that some people have noticed and would like to see something done to have America be America again.
Sheep don't worry about borders or security or much of anything else -- until they realize they've been sheared and have been led into the slaugherhouse.
---- (c) 2005, Toney Atkins
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November 20, 2005
Events of the past week in particular, as well as during all that has happened since my 62nd birthday on Jan. 2, 2005, are prompting me to begin writing a real journal or diary or whatever one might call it. Some of the things about which I will write will include experiences on all levels of my life and will be expressed as I saw or experienced them. In most cases, I will change names to protect the guilty. If you know me, you will likely see yourself along the way as this progresses ... and I hope to use this avenue as an outline for what I laughingly call my future "Great American Novel."
Since my decision to start this adventure in writing happens to be at 6:40 a.m. and I haven't slept since yesterday, the actual odes will begin to appear here after some sleep and thereafter as inspiration spurs me.
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November 20, 2005
REMEMBERING CHARLES W. CHERRY
A year of dramatic changes in my life actually began in November of 2004 with the death of Charles W. Cherry Sr.
The news of his passing sent shock waves through the Daytona Times office as well as throughout the Daytona Beach community. It was common knowledge that he had battled serious health problems for more than a year, and it had been months since he had come to the office on a regular basis, although he continued to attend most meetings of the Daytona Beach City Commission, where he was in his fifth term in the Zone 6 seat.
I was stunned when starting work that morning, a little more than a week before Thanksgiving, I was tipped that Hospice had been called to his home. We were later to learn that he had taken a sudden turn for the worse the previous evening. He left this life surrounded by family and friends.
His passing, at least briefly, was almost as controversial as his life as a community and civil rights leader had been. His son, Charles Cherry II, known to most of us as "Chuck," came into the office to officially inform the staff and to make the public announcement on his radio station, WPUL-AM 1590.
About half way through the program, in which callers were telephoning their sympathies to the radio station as well as practically ringing all the phones off their hooks in the newspaper office, a city employee stormed in, confronted me and demanded to know why the Daytona Beach city government hadn't been notified before the news was broadcast on radio. He was very upset, but that was the manner in which the grieving family wanted the announcement to be made.
I was kept busy answering calls and gathering comments of tribute for one of the news story I would write about Mr. Cherry's accomplished life, highlighted by his battle for civil rights on the local, Florida state and national levels.
I had talked to Mr. Cherry on the phone only several days before. He had just gotten out of the hospital and sounded rather robust, as I had always known him, and in good spirits. He commended the job I was doing and definitely took me by surprise when he said, "We've got to give you a raise. You're running the place, aren't you?" The conversation continued on a personal level with some insights as to his plans for the future.
Needless to say, I didn't get the raise, but I appreciated the thought. At the time, we were going through some turmoil among our small staff and, as assistant editor, I had to deal with office personalities as well as write stories, edit stories and help with layout, while dealing with the public and fighting deadlines.
Over the nearly 15 consecutive years that I had worked for Mr. Cherry, I learned a lot about him, his family and, mostly, the black community and its problems as well as its triumphs.
He first hired me back in 1987, admittedly to a little surprise on my part. The Daytona Times is a black-owned and operated newspaper and I am white. Color wasn't an issue for me, and it apparently wasn't for him. He said then, and was to say many times later, that I was fair in my reporting about him and issues in the black community when I worked for the city's mainstream newspaper. (I had left that job after my blood pressure started going through the roof and doctors were telling me to slow down.)
After a few months, I was offered a better paying job at a daily paper on the other side of the county and took it. After a year or so, I returned to my home state and worked for a paper there.
On a trip back to Daytona in the early 90s, I dropped a letter in the front door slot of the Times office, indicating that I would like to return if needed. About a month later, Mr. Cherry called my Georgia home and asked me where I was -- that he assumed I was coming back. Come back, I did, and went to work immediately.
It was then that I began one of the most exciting phases of my journalistic experience. Mr. Cherry gave me a great deal of freedom of expression, along with the responsibility of editing most if not all of what went into the paper. The pay was always lower than what I could have gotten at most other newspapers, but I enjoyed what I was doing at the Times and writing about issues that other news media wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole.
Greeted with suspicion from some in the black community, I gradually earned their respect, and I consider many who live there -- from the average man on the street to ministers to civil rights leaders to politicians, you name it -- to be among my best friends. I was to find that many blacks would help me in a heartbeat when white acquaintances wouldn't, probably, if the truth be known, they resented and disrespected me for working for Mr. Cherry and the Daytona Times. Mr. Cherry was rarely given his just due by the white community and even many in the black neighborhoods, although he was fighting for the rights of all.
Mr. Cherry helped me through some rough times. I admired and respected him. To work for and with him was a privilege and an honor I'll never forget.
His death had a greater impact on me than I might have anticipated. As I approached a time when I could take early retirement, the fire inside me was burning me out. There were so many stories about the black community I felt needed to be told. (Some of these issues are addressed in stories on www.toneyatkins.com/ ) But after Mr. Cherry died, practically working as the only in-house writer for the paper, in addition to editing and other duties, I began to feel overwhelmed by it all. Health problems were surfacing. I suffered a painful back injury. Yes, early retirement was in order.
A year later, I still feel a void that Mr. Cherry once filled in my life with his presence. He was an important man to society, to politics, to the fight for an end to prejudice, to his family and to many in the community who suddenly had no new outstanding black leader to turn to when Mr. Cherry died.
I miss him and hope that Mrs. Cherry, Cassandra, Chuck and the others know that the prayers of many, including myself, are still with them.
Mr. Charles W. Cherry Sr. made his marks. He will not be forgotten. And I'm proud to have known and worked for and with him.
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November 21, 2005
PONDERING THINGS TO COME:
A journal or diary is usually a day-to-day recording of events to reflect back upon at a later time. This particular journal will probably often go back in forth in time to events and remembrances as they come to me at a particular time as I sit down to write.
I know that in the days, weeks and months to come, I will recall things that I wish I had included in a certain item when I wrote it. I haven't quite decided how to do that, but I'm certain that I will come up with a way to make a story complete.
Some of the remembrances I plan to include on these pages include stories about (1) the most beautiful and truest friend I've ever had; (2) a dearly loved cousin from the "other side of the lake" who fought and won many battles from childhood to adulthood and, with determination, hard work and love, made it to a happy place and a wonderful house on a hill; (3) going behind the scenes at the newspapers for which I worked, the drama and the melodrama, featuring some of the finest people I ever knew; (4) undercurrents of life in the city of the "World's Most Famous Beach" and the changing tides there; (5) the almost fantasy world of karaoke and the often colorful but all-too-human characters who inhabit it; (6) the real reasons I walked out the doors of organized religion but kept my faith; (7) my years of teaching in the classroom and the teriffic kids I remember and wonder about; (8) the story of the greatest love of my life; plus (8) investigating my father's death and nagging questions about the way the Veteran's Administration and other doctors handled his case over the past few years, in the hospitals and even after his passing. (i.e. Why did it take so long for a major problem to be found, and why did he deteriorate so rapidly after first being admitted to a hospital?)
As anyone who knows me can tell you, some folks may be happy, some may be inspired and others may be VERY angry as entries in this journal appear in my pursuit for truth, love and peace on many levels. I can assure you that nothing will be designed to hurt anyone ... unless the truth hurts.
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