Nov 3 Will Rogers Election help

 

Hayter Nov 3 Article

“Will Rogers on Elections?”

            Some of you are aware of the fact that Elsie and Faris Hayter had four sons and three daughters. I’m certain, that was not their intent. Parents with seven kids occasionally have to act their buns off pretending that they’re not showing favorites... as if Dennis didn’t know.

We each expected to get our fair share of whatever was going on. We didn’t enjoy the same TV programs, so, unless Dad was around, we had to bargain on what we would watch. When mom cooked fried chicken we each wanted a chicken breast. Unfortunately, hens only have two. Since mom never fried multiple chickens, she managed to carve up one chicken into pieces that only the Chinese could recognize. On occasion, Mom would try to trick us by slicing up a thigh to make it look like part of a breast. What a tricker mother.

Regardless, all seven of the Hayter kids got along fine in the sense that we generally fought with words, instead of fists. . We only had close encounters when one of us recognized that something wasn’t fair. As children, we thought we had fairness down to an art. We knew where the dividing line was on a candy bar, a bottle of pop, or a stay in the bathroom.  

            It is those squabbles over decision-making that can tear a family apart. And, that my friend, is a segue into today’s message which is, “Be nice both before and after the election.” At the moment there is little indication that that will be the case. One particular side in the election has vowed that if their candidate doesn’t win, the election will be unfair. And there will be riots in the streets until the issue is settled between both factions.

            Regardless, we all know that following the election, there will be a major split in the minds of the populace. This is not the first time there has been this much political disparity among us. When I started college in the fall of ’68, a presidential election between Richard Nixon and Vice President Hubert Humphrey, was in the works. (By the way, Humphrey was likely the only American ever named Hubert.)

During the campaign, Nixon said he had a plan to get us out of Vietnam, and that he would share his plan upon being elected. Humphrey had plans, but nothing good to say about Vietnam. Of course, the War in Vietnam was not the only issue, but it was a big one.

            Americans were going bonkers in the late ‘60s. If memory serves, riots took place in every city except Bristow, Oklahoma. For me, the greatest thing that came out of 1968 was a song written by Stephen Stills and sung by his group “Buffalo Springfield”. It was called “For What It’s Worth”. There are so many good lines in the lyrics, but one of my favorites was – “There’s battle lines being drawn, and nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong.”

            That’s where we are today… and, likely, will be for months or years to come. Both sides are apparently willing to fight and die for their right to be right. That’s what you call a battle that cannot be won.

            It’s a battle that calls for the person most qualified to settle such a dilemma. Fear not, I have chosen humorist, cowboy, showman, stage and movie actor, writer, roper, and all-together wise man, Will Rogers to calm things down. Rogers was born in Oologah, Oklahoma on November 4, 1879, which was 28 years before Oklahoma would join the Union.

It’s not possible to come up with a description of what Rogers did during his short time in life. He was involved in numerous projects but is mostly remembered for his comments on politics and societal discourse. Here are a few examples.

            Concerning politics, Rogers said, “Democrats are the only reason to vote for Republicans.” Then he turned around and said, “I don’t belong to any organized political party. I’m a Democrat.’”

            In his newspaper column, he once wrote, “I don’t make jokes. I just watch the government and report the facts.” -- Yep. The man found humor in practically everything. He once said, “The person who never makes a mistake must get tired of doing nothing.”

            Concerning World politics, Wills said, “Diplomacy is the art of saying ‘Nice doggie’ until you can find a rock.” The leaders of all countries have taken on that attitude, but Hitler was the best. There are numerous nations that he signed treaties with, only to turn around and invade each of them. Yet, the Germans loved what this particular Austrian had to say, so much so that they drowned out many of his ramblings.

            Concerning political leaders, Will Rogers once said, “We always want the best person to win an election. Unfortunately, the right person never runs.” What I consider to be the most accurate appraisal of elections is this quote of his, “Ignorance lies not in the things you don’t know, but in the things you know that aren’t so.”

And that my friend, is the reason one should never argue with a person who believes in a false truth. Today, both sides see that in the other. It’s one of those situations where nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong. That’s the one thing I’ve been stewing over for too long.

            Fortunately, this morning I received an email from a friend who, sensing my political concerns, wrote “Take heart and focus, my friend; God is forever.” – Yep, it’s time for a focus change. There’s no telling how long this attitude of ours will last. But, fortunately, it won’t last forever. But it would sure be helpful if we could satisfy one another’s fears sooner than later.

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hayter.mark@gmail.com

Oct 27 Sick

 

Hayter for Oct 27, 2024

“What a columnist might write while sick.”

            Do you have any idea how many articles I’ve written while sick? Well, I’ve done the math and have come up with 132 sick articles out of the 2244 that I’ve written. I’d borrow one of my old sick articles right now, but it would take the rest of the day for me to find one. I don’t remember ever using the word “sick” in the title of anything. Till now.

            So, what I’ve done here is laid the groundwork for today’s article which I’m titling. “What--“ Oh, you can see the title up at the top. Of course, I can’t write about something while pretending to be well. What do you think? – No comment? Okay, then I’m writing while feeling lousy.

            I don’t really know if what I caught has a name. Kay recently had something like it. Of course, she’s seldom as sick as I am. (You might keep that comment to yourself.) I don’t know the name of what I’ve got, but it’s probably got one. Maybe it’s COVID 87. My symptoms started with being tired, addle-brained, head achy, in possession of a sore throat, achy bones and muscles, a runny nose, and a cough that started at my feet and ended at the base of my throat. That, and I’m not really excited about going anywhere or carrying on a conversation.

            I have to sleep in the guest room because my coughing keeps both Kay and me awake. If not COVID it may be one of the 600 flu’s going around. I don’t know if I’m contagious, but I’m going to try to play racquetball with Brad tomorrow just to see if I can generate some energy. Bradford will be happy to hear I’m sick because I’ll be so much easier to beat. The big goof beats me most of the time, anyway. 

            The only common childhood sickness that I recall catching was chicken pox. After having the pox, I remember having small indention in my skin.  I haven’t noticed them lately, because I have collected so many other spots and indention's of late. I never got the mumps or the measles. I remember hoping I’d get the measles so I could skip school. If I recall, the mumps caused your neck to swell. I never had a fat neck. Don’t care for one now.

            I do not remember ever missing a day of school. I always got a perfect attendance award. I remember in junior high I broke my collarbone in P.E. and Mom had to pick me up at school and take me to the doctor. On the last day of school, when they handed out perfect attendance awards, they did not intend to give me one, because I missed half a day after my collarbone injury. But, Mrs. Speights, my math teacher, who just happened to go to the same church as my family, went to the office and told the Principal that I was denied perfect attendance due to an injury I acquired while at school. And I came back after I got a shoulder wrap. Mrs. Speights was a thoughtful lady. God knows that better than I do.

            Hold on, just a second. -- Kay’s wanting my attention. You might grab more coffee or a Dr Pepper. I’ll be back in a second.

“What is it sweet pea? -- Well that’s nice of you, but I’ll sleep in the guest room again tonight. Actually, it doesn’t matter what room, because I doubt I’ll sleep anyway. Right now I need to get a handful of cough drops. The readers didn’t say anything, but they’re bound to notice that I’m coughing a lot. – No worries. I’ll be through in just a bit. – Love you, too.”     

            Okay, is everybody back? Well, I lost a few of you. I more than understand. I wanted to share with you a story about the day when a horrible sickness spread across the campus of Stephen F. Austin University in Nacogdoches, TX.  I’m thinking it was the fall of 68. It happened on the Saturday of our Homecoming Football game. We were playing some college out of Louisiana.

Well, it turned out that on the Friday before the game or the morning of the big game, a third of the campus got sick as a dog. Or cat. Let’s use cats. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m not a cat man. They’re too proud to be sick. --  Anyway, the food prepared the evening before or the morning of the big game did a number on a bunch of us.  Johnny Sutton and his roommate Gary Glover, my brother Dennis, and I, each ate at the cafeteria closest to our dorm. And each of us got sick.

Johnny was the first. O’ the horror. Dennis drove to Brookshire Brothers and managed to buy the last jar of Kaopectate. It was too late to help Johnny. The boy lost everything he had eaten both the day before and the morning of the big game. The three who weren’t sick, left our adjoining rooms and sat on the brick wall looking over the football stadium.

Gary was the first to join Johnny. He just up and ran. I don’t know if Johnny was out of the restroom or not. I didn’t want to know. Eventually, it was Dennis’ turn. O’ the horror! I would get my turn after the game. My digestive system has always been weird.

Yes, my friend, it a was cool and lovely day, but it wasn’t a good day for a lot of us. Fortunately, that weekend the Lumberjack football players catered their meals. One thing is certain, there are some old SFA Alumni, spread out across this state and country, who remember that they were among the SFA Lumberjacks who got sick at homecoming in ‘68.  I have no remembrance of who won the game. While I didn’t really care at the time, now I’m curious. -- O’ the horror.

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Oct 20 Birds and Bees

 

Hayter for Oct 20, 2024

“It sure took a lot to get you here!”

Warning: If your child can read, and doesn’t have a hint about the birds and the bees, you may not want him to read this. Of course, I haven’t written this article yet, so you might want to wait for the ending of this thing before making your own decision.

I don’t remember when my Dad told me about the birds and the bees. I imagine I was about 10. I don’t even remember what he told me because, at the time, he was mad about having to spill the proverbial beans. – “Really, you don’t know? Oh, shoot! Well, pay attention because I’m only going to say this once.”

When Dad was angry, he was a fast talker. No time for any description of the what, where, when, or how steps of the process. Mom must’ve told him to do it. I imagine we were at the drive-in and an actor used a bad word, and I asked Mom what it meant. If she said, “Ask your daddy.” I would’ve answered, “Never mind.”

Dad ended up telling me the whole story faster than a speeding bullet. I understood it just enough to be embarrassed about it. Maybe not as much as Dad. At that moment I was determined to never get married. – To be honest, though, I think I could’ve handled it better had Dad not made up so many different names for things.

Okay, all of that sexual stuff was a segue into today’s topic, which is “What were the chances of you being born?” – If you never took biology, you may not understand the title.

I don’t care to get too specific about the topic, but you’re likely familiar with the male’s responsibility for babymaking. The guy, depending on his age, delivers from 100 million to 300 million sperm in one trip. With a 300 million sperm count, one-third will head where they’re supposed to. Another 100 million will go all over the place, except where they’re supposed to. And the final 100 million don’t go anywhere. They just hang around and make small talk. -- “Does anybody know why we’re here?” They’re completely out of it. At times I feel as if I may be the result of one of those final 100 million do-nothing-cells.

That aside, in the birthing process, the female contributes one egg that should accept one of the 100 million sperm knocking on or near the door. After allowing one of the sperm in the doorway. The fertilized egg will soon take on a biological name referencing what happens when 23 female chromosomes come together with 23 male chromosomes. It’s called a zygote. I tell you where it got its name, but it would’ve taken me another 30 minutes. The point is, you and I were once zygotes. Hey, it was a surprise to me, too.

After that, the cells start splitting until the entire conglomerate becomes a fetus… which will eventually become a human being. If any one particular cell bailed out and another took its place, the baby might turn out to be a different gender, with different talents, possibly including a never-dying desire to dance or bowl. 

 Elsie and Faris Hayter ended up with seven kiddos. Each of the boys looks a little bit alike. I remember the four of us were sitting on a brick wall that was holding back a deep stream when a young boy walked up and asked, “Are y’all twins?” Before that, I’d never seen the similarities

Each offspring will have a different personality and talent from the others… unless their father was a professional football player. The different physical health, eyesight, and foot size may be different. It all depends on which particular sperm from the 100 million won the race to the egg. The eyesight, foot size, brain capacity, taste in food, desire to read, be a biologist…  

The female egg contains 23 female chromosomes and the male carries 23 male chromosomes. When they meet up, they become 46 chromosomes which is called a zygote. And that my diligent reader, is how each of us got here. We were each once a zygote. And, like you, I don’t remember a thing about it.

The chance of you being a zygote was a few 100 million to one. But you made it. If any one step had been altered, like say, the 87,431,173rd sperm knocked you to the side and became the first sperm to reach the egg. Your sperm would have a short lifespan in a crowded area. The good news is, you would soon die as a sperm not chosen. And, you wouldn’t care, because you would never remember the way you were.

But, as it turned out for you, I believe the hand of God was involved in seeing that one particular egg picked one particular sperm to be a child with particular interests, talents, personalities, likes, dislikes, and looks. It goes all the way back to our time as a zygote. If we never made it to the zygote stage, our parents wouldn’t even know enough to care. – Why? Right, you never existed

If you happen to be reading this thing right now, you need to thank your mom for the use of 23 of her chromosomes and your dad for his 23. As a result, here you are. How do you feel about that? – Sorry for the zygotes that never formed? Get over it.           

PS: About whether or not you should let your child in on this story? Let me say this. If my dad had read this article to me, I still wouldn’t have known what he was talking about.

      

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