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George Kapus

A SOCIALIST AMERICA?

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How would you like it if the name of our nation changed overnight to: United Socialist Republik of Amerika, or USRA? That’s what Bernie Sanders wants, and he’s calling for a Socialist revolution.

No creativity, no innovation, and NO freedom, just confiscation, disillusionment and death, is what Socialism/Communism brings, and I will explain to you how it works in reality; not in the delusional world conjured up by the false prophets of the Socialist theology. The name itself is an oxymoron. There is nothing social about Socialism as it has been peddled for the past hundred years. Unfortunately, if you’ve come out of our educational system in the past twenty or thirty years, and you’ve been spoon-fed the marvels of this heinous system of governance without being told of its blood-soaked history, you will follow Comrade Sanders, just like the poor children who followed the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

“How in Hades can this this guy (me) claim to know anything about Socialism?” You might ask.

Well, I’ll tell you. I am one of those lucky people who managed to survive both National Socialism (Nazism) and Soviet Socialism (Communism). I was born in 1942, in Budapest, Hungary. Within the next two years, Hitler highjacked our government and forced the hand of our Governor Miklós Horty to join him in his quest for world domination. When Horty decided to attempt to extricate himself from the conflict, by contacting the allies, Hitler had his son kidnapped, and eventually killed. When Horty still resisted, Hitler had him arrested and sent to Berlin for trial and punishment; more than likely, execution. Some of his followers stopped the train somewhere in Austria and after a brief skirmish with the Nazi death squad, they freed him and secreted him away to Spain, where he lived until his death on February 9, 1957.

Ferenc Szálasi, leader of the Arrow Cross party, was designated by Hitler to take Horty’s place and do his bidding until Hitler and his Nazis were forced to leave Hungary in April 1945. Szálasi was captured by U.S. troops in Germany, then was returned to Hungary, where he was sentenced to death by the People’s Tribunal and promptly executed.

In the meantime, as Hitler was fleeing Budapest with his tail between his legs, Joseph Stalin took over Hungary with a one-million-man army. This was right around early spring of 1945. So, for a few days, we lived under the dictatorship of the two biggest butchers in European history. I say only, because by the end of February of that year, my folks decided that it was time to ‘get out of Dodge’ well, Budapest, until the war would wind down. My father, at the time, guestimated ‘two to three months, maybe six’. He didn’t at the time realize, how wrong he had been.

Now, here’s the kicker. Everybody knows that Hitler was a bad man, and we all still talk about him. The ‘Butcher of Berlin’ sent 7 million Jews to their maker, with an additional million and a half to two million folks of other beliefs and nationalities, that just didn’t happen to agree with his policies.

To the ‘good’ Germans of the time, he promised everything, as soon as he conquered the world and got rid of all the unwanted troublemakers. Now, did you know that all little German children were inducted into the Hitlerjugend or Hitler Youth. They marched up and down the streets of Germany in their little brown shirts and proclaimed that they would save the planet by planting trees and saving the environment, all the while, sending their neighbors to the gas-chambers and turning their parents in to the Gestapo for maligning the Führer. And what was this bloody tyrant, a National Socialist! One more thing: under Nazism (or National Socialism) the first thing you lost was the right to own a gun, and the second, the right to speak your mind.

Now, perhaps because he was the commander of one of the Allies, during WWII, Josef Stalin’s name doesn’t come up as frequently when speaking of blood-thirsty dictators, and yet, his score of sending innocent souls to the afterlife is estimated to be somewhere between 28 and 60 million. The reason for the vague numbers is, it was difficult to track, how many had gotten buried in mass graves; and there were many mass graves found. Stalin’s Soviet administration destroyed the economy, educational system and government of all east European countries under the USSR’s (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics) umbrella. My country of birth, Hungary, was one of those countries left gasping for freedom for almost 50 years. Speaking of slavery: being under the boot of the Communist Empire was the worst case of slavery. You were a slave in your own home; your own country. Just ask any of the people who escaped from Eastern Block countries, what Communist slavery was like.

Here are some of the benefits afforded to those we left behind. All private property was seized; you no longer owned the home you used to own and lived in. Your business now belonged to the Socialist state. All businesses, banks, even toy stores, now belonged to the Socialist state. The national transportation system, the trolleys and buses were in disrepair and stopped running on time. Your personal freedom now belonged to the state. You had better watch your mouth and your ideas, because if the Socialist State didn’t agree with them, you went to prison, or the meatgrinder at the edge of the Danube River. Even your correspondence was censored. If the agents of the state didn’t like what they read, the AVH or Állam Védelmi Hatóság (State Protection Authority) sent you to prison; if your opinion was really bad, you were sent to Siberia. One more thing: under Soviet Socialism (or Communism) the first thing you lost was the right to own a gun, and the second, the right to have a voice. Sound familiar?

My uncle and aunt lived in a nice big house with their three children until 1946, when the newly elected comrade mayor of their town decided to redistribute housing, by removing them from the house that their family had owned for a hundred years and relocating them in the caretakers one-bedroom bungalow, so the mayor could move several freeloading party acolytes into the big house. Of course, everything my relatives owned, now belonged to the good party members, who promptly took possession and went out and sold all the valuables and objet-d’arts, such as paintings and sculptures. So, my relatives not only lost their house but also their valuables, furnishings and other assorted belongings. It was lucky that we had managed to escape, as my mother’s restaurant became state-owned as well.

A newspaper reporter named Gabor my father knew, decided to stay behind in Budapest to report on the coming events. As Communism slowly inserted its tentacles in every aspect of daily life of the Hungarian people, Gabor started writing about the events, until one day he got called into the publisher’s office and advised to tone it down. “It is alright to mention that things aren’t going the way we’d like them to, but we are still in a rebuilding process with the help of our Soviet liberators,” the publisher told him. “You should write about all the progress we are making, rather than criticizing things that haven’t yet been accomplished.” He wrote a book on the situation, entitled Beyond the Stalin Line. He was arrested by Soviet authorities in the autumn of 1945 and sentenced to death for basically telling the truth. Following numerous machinations by the Soviet Central Committee, he actually spent 15 years in Siberia.

Could any of you have survived 15 years in a forced-labor camp in Siberia? Approximately 30 million enemy soldiers were sent to the gulags of Siberia. Over one-fourth of the prisoners banished there, died; more than half, never returned, their fate unknown. It is hard to get an exact count, as Stalin didn’t want the rest of the world to know how many folks he had snuffed out.

*****

Would someone out there, care to explain why Cubans by the thousands tried to escape from the Soviet-style paradise created by Fidel Castro? Do you even know what happened to the many that got caught trying? They are still languishing in prison. 

If you’ve been listening to the news lately, you must have heard of the events in Venezuela. In the anti-government rioting, the death toll has now risen above 100 while several hundred have been imprisoned by the Socialist government under Nicolás Maduro, following his second inauguration. Whether Venezuela can ever again become a democracy, all depends on the outcome of the current turmoil. It seems that everywhere Socialism has tried to get a foothold, chaos and death have followed. Our best wishes to the people of Venezuela!

Here’s a very important question to consider in light of what’s going on in Washington DC: do you really want Socialism? Do you really want the United States to look like the Soviet Union or Communist China, or perhaps Venezuela, maybe even Cuba? Then, go right ahead and vote for people like crazy Bernie Sanders, or Coocoo-Ocasio-Cortez and your Socialist dreams will come true. Free everything to everyone. All your homes and businesses will be taken over by the government.

Greenpeace Founder, Patrick Moore, @EcoSenseNow, recently tweeted the following in reply to Ocasio-Cortez’s proposal: Pompous little twit. You don’t have a plan to grow food for 8 billion people without fossil fuels or get the food into the cities. Horses? If fossil fuels were banned every tree in the world would be cut down for fuel for cooking and heating. You would bring about mass death.

As for AOC’s “Green New Deal,” here is a little factoid about Earth: it is approximately 4.5 Billion years old. Think about how many times the climate has changed in that time period; gotten hotter and then colder. And, all without our help. Us humans aren’t as all-powerful as some of us on the left believe!

As the Left is preparing a full-frontal attack on our Constitution and trying to convert our system of government to more closely resemble Russia’s Communism, the first thing they are working on taking away is our right to own a gun, and the second, our right to have a voice, or the Freedom of Speech. Sound familiar?

******

Everywhere Socialism has been tried, it has failed miserably, killing millions in the process. Hitler’s National Socialism cost the lives of 7 to 9 million souls. Stalin’s Soviet Socialism eliminated between 28 and 60 million. Mao-Tze-Dung’s Chinese Communism took care of ridding the planet of over 60 million inhabitants. The lucky survivors of these murderous regimes had their lives destroyed in numerous other ways as well.

Why do you think that millions of people from all over the world have emigrated to the United States and are still trying to get in? Why do you think that another massive caravan is heading for our southern border? Because until now, The United States has been the land of freedom and opportunity. Our system may not be perfect, but it’s the best in the world today. Don’t let the goo-goo eyed Socialists turn our country into a Socialist nightmare. We don’t need to try Socialism to figure out that it doesn’t work. Millions have already done it for us. Socialism is the absolute enemy of the American way of life!

Somebody once asked me “Can’t you say anything good about Socialism or Communism?” I had to honestly reply, “Yes, I do. It was great when it finally chocked on its own vomit of lies!”

Who Created the Creators?

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In my article that appeared in the January 2019 issue of ALIVE Magazine, entitled Where Did Humans Come From? I offered some possible answers to that question. Several people have approached me after reading the article and commented “What you wrote, was very interesting and kind of made me think.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“But then,” they went on, “where do you think that the creators who created us came from?”

I had no simple answer for them. I told them, it was complicated, and I would write something about it in a future issue. I didn’t want them to think that I didn’t know. Actually, I myself hadn’t thought about it for some time, so I decided to get back to my sources and do a little digging.

Many hardcore religious believers do not want anybody to dissect the bible or any other holy scriptures. In light of modern day understanding, the traditional explanations of biblical personages interacting with divine beings who had mysteriously arrived from the heavens, riding on whirlwinds, golden boats or chariots, or flaming dragons, would more likely be interpreted today as a “close encounter of the third kind” with extraterrestrials.

Not having the technological understanding or vocabulary of today’s space travel vehicles and capabilities, those ancient writers had to rely on creating vivid, archaic imagery to describe those apparitions and encounters.

Most of us today have seen the flights of the space shuttle or Saturn rockets lifting off for a flight to the moon. We see jet planes flying overhead, and many of us have travelled in them. We have seen spaceships in movies and some of us may even have observed a UFO, you know, an Unidentified Flying Object, also known as a Flying Saucer, in person or on TV in the X-Files. We don’t need to create any sort of imagery to explain what we may be observing.

Now, some of the events in various holy writings date back three to five or maybe even ten thousand years. The divine entities from the past being written about, obviously had the technology that made their space vehicles possible; ergo, they had to have been more advanced than us. And, in most cases, they had to have come from someplace else, other than planet Earth. And yet, had they tried to explain the technology to the earthlings of the time, those earthlings would not have understood a word. To them, it may even have sounded like holy or magical utterances.

Interestingly enough, I have found that some debunkers claim that NO other intelligent life exists anywhere out there, in the whole Universe; therefore, UFOs are not real, and no ancient aliens ever existed. It is unfortunate that these folks, just sit around in their underwear, in their parents’ basement, and probably don’t believe what Carl Sagan, or Einstein or Werner Von Braun have postulated about the possibility of the universe teeming with life. They actually believe that all of us humans, animals, in fact all living things that exist on planet earth, all come from the earth, because they claim that there is no scientific evidence to prove otherwise. My opinion: they have closed minds and have probably never ventured outside their parents’ basements. Maybe, they’ve never even seen a jet?! My philosophy is: if you keep an open mind, you’ll be amazed at what you can learn!

Think about this: According to Wikipedia, there are about one hundred billion galaxies in the known universe, on the order of 100,000 in our local supercluster alone, and an estimated number of about one to two trillion in all of the observable universe. There are about 400 billion stars in our own galaxy, the Milky Way (not the candy bar). Since astronomers have been studying the data from the Kepler Space Mission, they have guestimated that there could be as many as 40 billion Earth-like planets orbiting Sun-like stars and red dwarfs in the Milky Way; 11 billion of which may be orbiting Sun-like stars. So, the question for you is: with the possibility of billions and billions of planets just like ours, wouldn’t you think that we might just have a couple of them with humanoid inhabitants out there, in our planetary neighborhood? Why would God waste all that real estate and only plant some humans in his own image, on only one lonely ball of mud?

Even the folks at the usually closed-mouthed and close-minded (for a space exploration organization) NASA, have now admitted that we might run into extraterrestrials in the next twenty years. I actually believe they are here now. Some have actually been caught at our southern border, along with other Illegal Aliens (a little humor).

Let’s see where all this knowledge might take us.

As I indicated in my January treatise, the creator who set up the biodome in the Middle East and created Adam and Eve through genetic engineering, was a flesh and blood, divine humanoid being of superior intelligence, who came to Earth, to populate it with modern Homo Sapiens. Adam and Eve had two sons, Cain and Abel; and you know the rest of the story. However, there were already other humanoid beings inhabiting the general area of the biblical garden of Eden, where they built cities and ran their own commerce. Where did these beings come from? Were they perhaps created in a similar fashion, in an Eden-like environment and then sent out to multiply like Adam and Eve, by another Lord Creator? And, where did their creator or creators come from? Were they competing creators?

After I wrote my January article, a blurb appeared in my favorite alternate science and other esoteric topics magazine, Atlantis Rising, informing readers to check out the UK Express website for an article entitled “Secret CIA documents claim evidence for Martian race wiped out by environment disaster.” Sound familiar? What I learned from this article was that a secret project co-sponsored by the CIA and the Department of Defense entitled Stargate Project, started in 1978, enlisted a team of “Remote Viewers,” to use their ability of Extra Sensory Perception or telekinesis, second sight or remote viewing, to look into the past history of the planet Mars. For those of you who haven’t heard of the term, remote viewing is the ability to view at a distance, other parts of your surroundings. The very developed operatives can see any part of the world and even other parts of the universe at any specified time.  

According to these clairvoyants, an alien race lived on Mars and was wiped out by an enormous environmental catastrophe several millions of years ago (Remember what I wrote in my original article?). Some of the Remote Viewers spoke of seeing tall pyramids as well as humanoids fighting against the oncoming disaster, and the final collapse of the Martian civilization. There are individuals out there (me among them) who believe that the Viking Lander took photographs of a face-like feature on Mars, which NASA actually tried to hide, by modifying the pixilation of the image and claiming that it was just a natural feature. Since then, other “manmade” features have been discovered, lending credence to the possibility of the existence of an advanced civilization inhabiting the red planet in the distant past. The secret files from this experiment which lasted until 1999, even suggests that the first humans on Earth may have been the descendants of that Martian race. So, did the creator of the human race come from Mars to set up the biodome called Eden? Was their commander “Lord Creator,” or as his new creations called him, “God?”

I recently discovered some fascinating information in the Book of Mormon, regarding the (possible) home planet of God; sort of. This comes from the Book of Abraham, which according to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, came from translations of papyri discovered in Egyptian catacombs. They are attributed to Abraham, having written them while living in Egypt. They are of course not included in any of the Judeo-Christian Bibles or other writings. What I also discovered is that some in the Mormon religion (perhaps all?) believe in their divine pantheon being made up of extraterrestrial divine beings. Sort of an outer-space-based religion?

Abraham writes of dialogues with God, in which he is told by the Lord, from which planet He (God/Lord, Jehovah) came from. Mormon theologians agree that Abraham was told by God that he came from the planet Kolob in the constellation Cancer. Kolob means “the First Creation” which is “nearest to the celestial, or the residence of God.”

The actual passage comes from the Book of Abraham, chapter 3, verse 3, and goes as follows: And the Lord said unto me: These are the governing ones; and the name of the great one is Kolob, because it is near unto me, for I am the Lord thy God: I have set this one to govern all those which belong to the same order as that upon which thou standest. God goes on and explains to Abraham that Kolob was created first and Earth was created much later on. He also tells Abraham that one day for God on Kolob is equal to 1000 years on the planet that he (Abraham) was standing on—Earth.

I would like to add some clarification to the above information. In some of the writings that I have read, Kolob is considered a planet, purple in color, in others a star. However, whether it be a planet or a star, Abraham is told that it is the place that God’s throne is nearest, or actually located on. In other writings on the topic, there is mention of God having brother gods, who may also have created other worlds and other human beings. In the prequel to this article, I brought up my confusion about the land of Nod, east of Eden that Cain wandered into, and met and mated with suitable females. This new information (to me, anyway) may explain how that could have happened. Did brother gods run similar programs as “God” in the land of Nod and possibly other lands and maybe even other planets?

There are instances in the Judeo-Christian Bible, of other heavenly beings visiting Earth from up there (outer-space) travelling in nuts and bolt, high-tech flying vehicles. The best such instance (s) is a series of encounters which are explicitly described by the prophet Ezekiel. He should have been a reporter. He was very observant. He goes on about describing in minute details, using as precise and descriptive a vocabulary of his time, what he encountered; what these objects looked like, what sounds they made and how it made him feel after he was flown about and redeposited on terra firma.

Ezekiel tells us of being brought in the presence of the Lord (God, the Commander of the space vehicle) who sat in a magnificent throne.

Have you ever seen the pilot’s seats in the cockpit of a jetliner, surrounded by electronic gadgetry, with beeping sounds and blinking and flashing instrument lights, reminiscent of precious jewels? That could have been what gave Ezekiel the impression of a magnificent, bejeweled throne. The humanoid beings he interacted with at these encounters, instructed him to tell his people everything he had seen and heard. So, these extraterrestrial beings weren’t trying to hide anything. They probably also knew that no one would believe poor Ezekiel. Whether Ezekiel ever presented his people with the facts of his encounters or not, he doesn’t explicitly tell us. Over a period of some twenty-five years, Ezekiel experienced at least four of these encounters with extraterrestrial visitors. That is what we are aware of, because those are the four encounters that Ezekiel had documented.

If you would like to get a deeper, technical understanding of Ezekiel’s experiences, you may want to read an excellent book by Josef F. Blumrich The Spaceships of Ezekiel. Blumrich designed airplanes since the late 1930s in Germany, until he got transferred to NASA, following WWII.

Blumrich originally set out to prove that Eric von Däniken (author of Chariots of the Gods) was full of baloney when he claimed that the prophet Ezekiel had had encounters with extraterrestrial beings, and actually rode in their very strange space vehicle(s). After carefully studying the words of Ezekiel, Blumrich had to eat his own words, as he had to admit that what von Däniken had been saying actually made a lot of sense. So Blumrich, reinterpreting Ezekiel’s writings, designed a space vehicle following the information gathered therein, that turned out to be a shuttle of sorts that was used by the divine beings to travel back and forth from a mothership orbiting earth, and to flit around while interacting with the earthlings. This book is well-worth the read.

I have now given you some possible answers to the question, “Who were the creators, where they might have come from, and how did they get around while on Earth?”

Here are some final thoughts. The universe is between 11 and 14 billion years old, as determined by people a lot smarter than yours truly. If you look at the complexity of its makeup and the shear number of galaxies and stars, surrounded by billions and billions of planets, you will see that there is a good possibility for a purposeful design; that most of us may not yet understand. Possibly, never will. The possibility of some of those many planets being inhabited by beings not unlike us, in various stages of development (evolving) is infinite. I personally believe that a supreme and divine entity was at work to create it all. Some of us may call Him “God.”

Divine Intervention?

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I have lived through a handful of incidents that could have closed the book called My Life but for the intervention of an all-powerful and divine entity, who according to my mother, was looking out for me. She would tell me, “HE saved your life.” Of course, she meant God. We often use terms like “I just got lucky” when we manage to live through some event, that we shouldn’t have. But, think about it, was it really luck or, was it possibly, Divine Intervention?

Here are a handful of stories, three of which happened when I was very young and there wasn’t anything I could have done to extricate myself from the situations. The last story happened much later in my life, when I should have known better than to get in that situation in the first place.

My mother and father told me this one, because I had no memory of it. Way, way back in 1943, at about eighteen months of age, I got very sick. I had a terrible cough and a fever. Nasty gooey stuff was oozing from my nose and mouth. My parents didn’t know what to do, so they took me to the Budapest Children’s Hospital, which at the time, luckily for them, was only a few blocks from our flat. We had no car. So, they bundled me up and carried me to see my doctor. It took him very little time to diagnose what was ailing me. It was Diphtheria. You more than likely have never heard of this nasty disease, unless you are in my age group or have read about it in a medical publication.

It’s a nasty, infectious disease caused by the bacteria Corynebacterium diphtheriae. The infection started in my nose and quickly spread to my throat and down into my lungs. The toxins forming were destroying all the healthy tissue in their path and were causing an ugly green-grey membrane to form all over every orifice and surface of my air passages, producing even more toxins.

As this nasty goop spread through my throat and windpipe, I was experiencing great difficulty breathing. The doctor informed my parents that I couldn’t be laid down in my crib because once in a flat position, I would most certainly choke to death. Hence, until the antitoxins and antibiotics would take effect, my mother and father had to hold me in an upright position in their arms and walk me back and forth throughout our tiny apartment for something like forty-eight hours straight, in order to keep me from falling asleep and choking.

The doctor had offered them to leave me at the Children’s Hospital, so that the nurses could do all the walking, but mom and dad didn’t want to entrust my well-being to anybody else. Following the forty-eight-hour period, and regular administration of the prescribed medication, the infection started to slowly break up and my parents told me (years later) that I started breathing a little easier. But even after I started looking and feeling better, my mother was still afraid to lay me down for fear that something might happen. After about a week, with the last dose of the medication, the infection went away. Fortunately for me and for the folks, I recovered as is obvious by my telling you this story.

My folks told me, years later, that after the ordeal, I slept for what seemed like a week, with my mother frequently checking in on me to make certain that I was still breathing. I owe both mom and dad a big one, just for those first forty-eight hours. According to them however, quite a few children still perished from this dreaded disease because some parents were slow in taking their children to the doctor’s or simply ignored the symptoms until it was too late. My mother firmly believed that a divine hand had interceded on my behalf, which is why I recovered.

I had barely recovered from my bout with Diphtheria, when I had another medical emergency which landed me in the hospital. On his way back from the Russian Front, my father had bought a beautiful icon, which is a religious artifact done in gold and framed in a gilded, inlaid wooden frame with glass in front. My parents had decided to move it from its former location and to hang it above my crib so that the saint pictured therein, and the golden angels would watch over me.

They should have known better by this time, that I was a curious little bugger, and perhaps the icon should have been hung a bit higher up on the wall. They thought that it was out of my reach. I however, had discovered that my reach was slowly getting longer. I could grab knick-knacks off the ornate little table next to the crib and bounce them off the floor; and so, my mother moved the little table farther away. With that challenge out of my reach, I started exploring other possibilities. The icon finally hooked me. I just had to check it out, up close, but it was just too high, I thought. For a while, I ignored it.

Then one day, I figured out this new maneuver. By raising one leg all the way up and over the top rail of the crib, I got a little lift. Very ingenious, I thought, with a sneaky little smile on my chubby face. Now, I speculated, if this maneuver gives me enough of a boost, I might just reach my goal, a very close examination of the golden icon. It was so pretty and shiny and I wanted to check out the angels and the saint, very closely. No harm in that, right?

As the folks were sitting on the divan (couch), relaxing and listening to the radio, I made my move without much fanfare, sort of nonchalantly. After a few disappointing slips, my leg was finally hooked across the rail. The next thing, my hand was stretching and reaching for the icon. With a little grunt and one extra push of my diaper-wrapped heiny, I was finally able to touch it. With another grunt and a final push, I hooked the frame with my little fingers and dislodged it completely.

The icon came crashing down on the edge of the crib, along with yours truly and we ended up in a heap of broken glass and the icon separating from the frame and me coming eyeball to eyeball with the saint and the golden angels pictured therein. I let out a blood curdling scream (I was told) which made my mother and father jump up from the divan and rush to the crib. They could see that not only had the icon broken apart and there were glass shards all over my crib, but a jagged shard was stuck in the top of my skull. I was bleeding profusely (I was told) and screaming at the top of my lungs. They literally ran me to the hospital.

When they told me the story years later, my parents said that I had been lucky that the glass hadn’t pierced my thin skull and all I had needed was but a few tiny stitches. Which brings me to my puzzlement when on occasion I had been called ‘thick skulled’ or ‘hard headed.’ Now which one was it, thin skull or thick skull? But I digress. To this day, if I softly run my finger along the ridge of my skull, I can still feel the inch-and-a-half or so scar from 1944. For the second time in a very short period of my life, my mother said that God’s angel has kept that glass shard from going all the way into my little brain.

By the way, my parents had the icon restored to its former appearance after the incident and hung it back up on a totally different wall, far, far away from my crib. It was one of the items my father regretted leaving behind when we had to leave Hungary. It would have taken up too much space in either suitcase they packed with essentials. Besides, they had firmly believed that in a few weeks’ time, the war would be over, and we’d be back home…

•••

As Hitler and his minions were chased out of Budapest, Stalin was moving in with a million-men army to take over. While this was happening, my parents decided that it was time to get out.

A few days later, in the last days of February 1945, we became part of a long column of refugees heading for the Austrian border and safety. Somewhere, along the way, on a road skirting the Danube River which at this time of the year was swollen and roaring along in a muddy, gray fury, our column was unable to avoid the bombardment of a small industrial town by Russian bombers.

Our column was forced to head for cover under the trees along the sloping banks of the Danube where quite a bit of snow and slush still covered the ground. My mother had been carrying me at the time because I had gotten tired of walking. My father was carrying our belongings and had lagged a bit behind. Oftentimes when the going was slow, I and all the other smaller kids were allowed to toddle alongside our parents to give them a bit of a break; until us wee-people started whining.

On this particular occasion, my mother had picked me up to stop the complaining. Nobody really knew what the planes were bombing. By this time, they had pretty much destroyed all bridges, supply lines and factories. There wasn’t much left of this little town but great big mounds of busted masonry, splintered wood and chunks of cement. Then again, maybe the Russian pilots didn’t want to run out of fuel, so they just dumped their load (of bombs), as they were often accused of doing. Who knew?

The Russian Tupolev Tu-2, twin-engine bombers got very close to the road we had been following. The column broke up; everyone scattering for cover in all directions. Russian pilots had been known for strafing anything that moved on the ground, be it soldiers or grandmothers with little children. They later claimed, believe it or not, that they couldn’t tell civilians and military apart from way up there. Through the smoke, dust and stench of metal and explosives from all the bombs, people were desperately looking for safe places to hide.

As my mother was running for cover under the trees along the bank which dropped toward the river, the blasts kept going off in all directions, rocking the ground underneath her feet and adding to the thick haze and the stench. She was holding me as tightly as she could, me in my big fur-lined coat when she slipped in the slush and the concussion ripped me right out of her arms as she fell.

I was sent flying and bouncing down the steep bank toward the swollen, swiftly flowing muddy, bloody river. She of course let out a scream, terrified that I would keep on hurtling right into the gray fury to drown.

My father, who had dropped the load he had been carrying as he himself had hit the ground, scrambled to his feet and took off after my mother. They were both slipping and sliding in the muck while ripping their clothing and getting all scratched up on the bramble and brush. They later told me that all they could do was watch me sliding and bouncing downhill. They were certain that I would end up plunging into the turgid, mucky waters.

Someone “up there” must have been watching over me. As I kept sliding and bouncing along the snowy river bank toward oblivion, my descent was suddenly halted. A rather large boulder, very close to the edge of the surging turbid waters, stopped my progress. Others hadn’t been so lucky. Some ended up in the river and had to be pulled out by brave men and women on the slippery banks; while some went under and succumbed to the treacherous swirling waters.

When my folks finally got to me, my mother said that I was laughing like this had been some sort of a whacky carnival ride. I was completely unhurt. The worst thing that had happened was my face was smeared with muck. Here I must interject a small factoid: my mother was a clean-freak. She had always kept me spotlessly clean.

So, the very first thing she did was to pull out her handkerchief, wet it with her mouth and start furiously cleaning my face. This is what my dad told me, every time he retold this story. The other thing I want to remind you of is, this happened in late February and as I said, it was still rather frosty. There was still snow and slush all over the place, so my folks had me bundled up. I was actually wearing this thick large fur winter coat which was called a Bunda in Hungarian. As it was a couple sizes too big, it went down to the top of my shoes and was topped off with a fur hat made of the same hide, tied under my chin. This getup made me look like I belonged to some lost Eskimos tribe, way up North Pole way; Nanook Kapus at your service.

With all that padding, no wonder I hadn’t felt a thing.

My mother thought for sure that it had been divine intervention that saved my life that day. I on the other hand firmly believe that it was that very large boulder; however, I never challenged what she wanted to believe. Anyway, how did that big chunk of the lithosphere; you know, a rock, just happen to be there, in that exact spot? You know, this time, she might just have been right. But whatever it was, I am here writing the story about it. Amen!

This last mishap took place in the Spring of 1966. I was now married. My youngest daughter had been born just a couple of months prior and we were moving from cramped quarters in Berkeley, to a nice house in Oakland that a good friend of my parents had offered to rent to us, for a very reasonable amount; would you believe $100 a month. Most importantly, my girls Christina and Gizella would have a nice yard to play in, when they got a little older. And, Saint Augustine church and school, were right across the street; which they both eventually attended.

My brother-in-law Charlie and I had rented a trailer for the move. We had boxed up all our belongings and made several trips back and forth between Berkeley and Oakland. When we had unloaded the last box at our new abode, Charlie and I were going to return the trailer to the rental company and stop off for a couple beers at our nearest watering hole, on Telegraph Ave., in Oakland. In retrospect, that might have been our first mistake.

We were both overheated in our t-shirts after all the loading and unloading and were enjoying a couple of brewskies. Suddenly, one of us—it might have been me—said “You wanna drive up to Tahoe and try our luck?” Why, I don’t know. So, after we finished our second beer, we got into Charlie’s 1959 Black Dodge Charger and after filling up at the Richfield gas station across the street, we headed for Ashby and the Bayshore highway. In 1966, the freeway part only went a couple miles past Richmond. After that, if I remember correctly, it was mostly two-lanes, all the way to Sacramento.

We were rolling along at a good clip, while listening to the latest hits on KEWB. Back in those days, Highway 50, which took you to Lake Tahoe, didn’t bypass Sacramento, in fact, you had to drive through town for a couple miles. At some point, before we left the city, Charlie said, “I’m getting tired, why don’t you drive the rest of the way?”

We left Sacto city limit and KEWB with me at the helm. I was watching the speedometer and we were cruising right along with no problems. As we got to the Sierra foothills, traffic had thinned out considerably as this was midweek. Pretty soon, I was navigating the twisty-windy road up the west face of the Sierras in the final thirty to forty miles to North Shore. Before I forget, back in those days, because there were no freeways, traffic moved a lot slower. So, as we had left Oakland at around four in the afternoon, by the time I started my ascent of the Sierra, it had slowly gotten darker and, it got overcast. I turned on the headlights. Also, remember, back in Oakland, the spring weather had blessed us with a balmy seventy-degree temperature, which is why we were wearing t-shirts. Half way up our climb, I noticed snow on the side of the road and under and around the trees. Pretty soon, there was a thin layer of the white stuff on the road surface. The charger had no chains on. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t even noticed a sign indicating that chains would be required. So, I slowed down a bit and started paying a lot more attention at how slick the surface of the roadway had gotten. Charlie was snoozing peacefully in the passenger seat and my eyes were on the road and my hands were holding the steering wheel a little tighter.

Up to this point, I could only see headlights a couple of miles behind us, down the serpentine, and no tail lights at all ahead of us. We were climbing higher and higher on the twisting road until I passed the sign saying, “Echo Summit – 7,377 ft.” Just as I glanced at the sign, a red light popped up, right in front of the Charger.

Out of nowhere, this car had suddenly appeared in front us. I slammed on the brakes. Not a smart thing to do on slick road surfaces. Instead of sliding to a halt, the Charger started spinning around like a top, right to the edge of roadway. As we’re spinning, Charlie suddenly woke up. “What the Hell is going on?” he exclaimed.

“Some idiot slammed his brakes on, right in front of us,” I blurted, as the Charger had slowed the spin down and came to halt, pointing in the wrong direction and very close to the edge of a 2000 ft drop. I broke out in a sweat and my heart was racing. Of course, by this time, the car in front, had disappeared.

“I better drive the rest of the way,” Charlie grumbled.

In my short 24 years on planet Earth, this was the second time that I had involuntarily gotten this close to the edge of the precipice, literally. Remember earlier, in 1945, when I almost ended up in the broiling Danube river? This time as well, it all could have ended at the bottom of the canyon, maybe in the Truckee river, except that this time, I really believed it had been divine intervention that had prevented it.

As Charlie drove down the other side of the Sierra toward the “Y,” where highway 50 splits, with one branch going North and the other South, he practically shouted, “I was having this nice dream, the next thing I see was a two-thousand-foot drop and the bottom of the canyon sliding by. I thought for sure we were goners.”

Nothing memorable happened after that. We got to Harrah’s casino and we both played Blackjack, until we ran out money. It was lucky that we had filled the tank on the Charger because all we had left in our pockets was small change. And way back then, neither of us had any credit cards. By 2 am, we were on our way back home, with our tails between our legs. We were trying to figure out what story were going to tell our wives. See, we had told them about getting a couple of beers after we returned the trailers, and both of the sisters knew that it shouldn’t have taken this long. We had some “splaining” to do…

Now, allow me to go back to the beginning, momentarily. We escaped from Budapest at the end of February 1945. A couple of years later, we found out from a friend who had stayed behind, that within a couple days of our departure, the four-story building we lived in, was leveled. I saw first- hand, the pile of rubble that was left, on a visit to Budapest in 2008.

Believe or not, I am certain that a higher power exists that looks after all of us. Call it God or whatever you wish. But the next time you make it through some horrific experience; think about it. It might just have been Divine Intervention, and maybe just say, Thank you God!

Where Did We Come From?

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Did you ever wonder where humans came from? I don’t mean the thing about mommy and daddy getting together and making babies, because they love each other. No, my question is deeper and more complex. For instance, has the Earth always had human inhabitants, Homo Sapiens and did we originate on Earth, or did we come from somewhere else? In high school and college, the teachers and professors always mentioned a missing link in our evolution, as though there was no direct connection with any of our supposed predecessors. Is that because, there really is no direct connection; only genetic manipulation? Perhaps, whoever created us (modern man) took the DNA from a Neanderthal, or Denisovan or other bipedal hominid, and the result was us. Let’s look at some of the creation stories and see which one you might agree with, or not.

Why, just the other day, this nice woman asked me: “Don’t you believe in evolution?”

I blurted out, “No, I don’t!” However, I had erroneously assumed that she was asking about Charles Darwin and his theory that all species of life have descended over a very long period of time from a common single-cell ancestor. And no, I don’t believe that. I do believe that as a species, we have evolved, and we keep evolving, to higher levels of intelligence, spirituality and physicality. But, think about it. What happened to the dinosaurs? It has also been discovered by scientists that some five hundred million or so years ago, dozens of new complex species appeared on the scene, seemingly out of nowhere, without any apparent, gradual evolutionary steps, the way Charles Darwin had postulated; basically, without any ancestors of kind. Just like that, magically there they were, as though some unknown super intelligence had made them appear out of some mysterious genetic laboratory. This is one of the reasons why I decided to take a closer look at some of the possibilities for how humans might have appeared on the scene.

One hypothesis bandied about is called Panspermia. It originated in the 5th century BCE when the Greek philosopher Anaxagoras brought it up in a conversation with his fellow Greek philosophers, who first thought he was talking about some sort of eating disorder; anorexia. He tried to explain to his colleagues, “Panspermia, not anorexia. Anaxagoras is my name; oy veh!” (just kidding). The idea faded and wasn’t brought up until 1834, by a Swedish chemist named Jöns Jacob Berzelius, who thought it was something new. Apparently, he was the only one still interested in Panspermia. So, the theory lay dormant until 1871, when it caught the interest of William Thomson, 1st Baron Kelvin, a Scots-Irish mathematical physicist and engineer. He fiddled with the theory until in 1905, Svante Arrhenius took interest. Over the years, many more scientific minds picked up on Panspermia as a possible delivery system of living organisms all over the universe; sort of a cosmic Amazon.com. Today, there are still a ton of Panspermia believers, but no real proof.

Before we go any further, here’s a brief definition of Panspermia, as I understand it: Life exists (existed) throughout the universe, floating around in a dormant state, being blown about by solar winds until it found a suitable environment to grow in and evolve. Some of the scientists believe that this is how life got started on planet Earth, including human beings. Mind you, according to Panspermia theorists, if life evolved on Earth, it would also have evolved on millions of other planets with similar environments, all over the universe. (Ref. 1)

Of course, there are still those in the scientific community who firmly believe that we evolved from some unknown single-cell organisms, some 3 billion years ago. They, however, cannot explain, where these organisms came from, and how some organism evolved into humans, some into alligators, and some into deranged, yapping chihuahuas.

In his book On the Origins of Species in 1859, Charles Darwin postulated that humankind started out as apes and over billions of years evolved into Homo Sapiens. Over the past hundred-plus years, this theory has been shot full of holes. For instance, evidence has popped up all over the world that Modern Man had had interactions with Neanderthals, and of course apes. As a matter of fact, footprints of Modern Man have been discovered alongside dinosaur footprints; pushing back even further the timeline for the appearance of Modern Man. This means that (we) humans, or Homo Sapiens couldn’t have evolved from Neanderthals, Denisovans, Homo Erectus, or apes, because humans lived right alongside them.

When still in high school, I asked my teacher this question, as the Darwin theory was being discussed: “Mr. Johnson, if we evolved from apes, why are there still apes around?” Mr. Johnson couldn’t satisfactorily answer my question.

Here is another interesting theory explaining humanities origins, unique to Russia: Cosmism, which was the name given to a philosophical and cultural movement started in the early 20th century. In it, proponents believed in humanity’s origins being from the Cosmos. It is somewhat similar to Panspermia, but not exactly the same. These scholarly individuals did their best to research any alien presence on our planet that would lead them to find evidence and prove their theory. They tried to make every effort to try and return to the Cosmos, hence the USSR’s strong determination to win the space race. The interesting part of Cosmism was that it somehow connected the rise and fall of the Soviet Socialist Empire with its interest in ancient civilizations. Many Russians firmly believed, and some still do, that ancient aliens visited our planet, and more specifically visited throughout Russia’s enormous territory, much of which is still uninhabited. This is also why the Soviets have always been interested in UFOs. Yet, the Soviet government also did its best to identify, silence and imprison Russian intellectuals who dared research and believe in Cosmism and extraterrestrials, as opposed to Communism.

Unfortunately, Cosmism succumbed to Communism, because as they said in the USSR, a good communist does not believe in Cosmism or God; only Communism.

In late 1991, Communism succumbed to its own cancer. It is unfortunate that Cosmism was not allowed to thrive and therefore we were never able to discover, where specifically in the cosmos, did humanity originate; was it from just some floating particles, or actual upright human beings. Perhaps, the theory will get resurrected, now that Communism no longer controls thinking (in Russia anyway). (Ref. 2)

We will now look at the Biblical story of the creation of the first humans. Since my father was a Calvinist (Protestant) and my mother a Roman Catholic, I got to attend both catechism and Sunday school. This is how I learned that, in the Bible, in Genesis, we are told that Adam and Eve were the first humans created by God (Yahweh) and deposited into a paradise, called Eden. Adam and Eve were told by God, not to eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, which they did, by listening to a snake.

For disobeying God, they were banished from Eden. So, while wandering around aimlessly, Adam and Eve had two children, both boys. One was named Cain and the other Abel. Cain became a farmer and Abel became a shepherd. The sons both made sacrifices to God for providing their crops, but Abel’s sacrifice (of meat) was God’s favorite. Being jealous of his brother, Cain the farmer killed Abel, whereupon God punished Cain to a life of wandering. “Cain then dwelt in the land of Nod, east of Eden where he built a city, he called E-noch, after his son whom he fathered to start a line of descendants beginning with him (Enoch)”. (Ref 3)

It was never satisfactorily explained to me, how, if Adam and Eve were the first two humans, and they had two sons, named Cain and Abel, and there were no other females around, and Cain then killed Abel out of jealousy, and was punished by being condemned to a life of wandering, that somehow, he came upon the land of Nod, where he built a city and fathered numerous descendants. With whom? If he was one of four original humans, who were the creatures living in Nod that he could have mated with and father all those children? Where did all the lovely females come from? There must have been other people living nearby, not created by God? Please, explain. Also, what was The Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, and why exactly were Adam and Eve kicked out of Eden? I’ll have some thoughts on that later.

Here’s another interesting concept, which was developed by the scholarly author and researcher, Zecharia Sitchin, in a series of books that begin with the Twelfth Planet. In this book, Mr. Sitchin, who understood several ancient languages, postulates that according to his research in decoding ancient tablets and writings, modern humans were originally created some 450,000 years ago, to serve as a slave-like workforce to extract gold, for the Annunaki who were the inhabitants of the planet Nibiru. According to the story, the atmosphere of their planet was in dire need of repair, and apparently, gold was the solution. So, Nibiru is a planet with a strange, elongated, elliptical orbit, almost perpendicular to the orbit of the rest of the planets in our solar system. Nibiru enters our solar system, approximately every 3,600 years.

The name Annunaki translates as those who from the heavens came (Extraterrestrials?) and they are considered mythological deities by mainstream academia. However, Zecharia Sitchin presents a very compelling case in his books for the Annunaki being flesh and blood humanoid extraterrestrial travelers who came to our planet on a real mission. To accomplish their goal of extracting as much gold as possible, they needed a workforce.

According to his interpretation, the hominids on planet Earth, at the time of their arrival, were incapable of communicating and carrying out tasks, such as extracting gold. This forced the Annunaki to do some manipulations with the genes of these earthly bipedal hominids, to turn them into obedient, intelligent workers (slaves). In other words, they conducted some genetic manipulations. The head geneticist Inanna, goddess of love, fertility, and warfare, did her thing, and the result was the first worker humans. As these workers evolved over several generations, the Annunaki became aware of the rather attractive human females, and not having enough females on the crew aboard their spaceship, and being far away from home for several years, they decided to canoodle with these new human females; and there was a lot of canoodling. The result was Modern Humans, or human-Annunaki hybrids; smarter, stronger and more attractive than their predecessors. (Ref 4)

A variation on the theme of the Annunaki, believed by some Ancient Alien Theorists is simply that extraterrestrials in their UFOs are the ones who brought the first humans to Earth, and that they periodically come back to check on the humans’ evolution and occasionally do some tweaking of our genetic code. Which is why, we have seen so many stories about UFOs zooming around the skies of planet Earth. Even Navy jet pilots have caught these hypersonic vehicles zipping around at super high speeds, doing the kinds of aerobatics that would kill a human pilot.

Now, if you think that this is a new phenomenon, think twice. There is strong evidence in art, ancient lore, old sculptures, even on coinage of strange round objects flying around the sky, that are apparently not from Earth. Evidence can also be found all over the planet, recorded as petroglyphs on rocky outcrops, dating back hundreds and maybe thousands of years, showing strange humanoid creatures and flying machines. So, our creator/observers have been around for quite some time.

Whoever created our ancestors and whatever they were, the humans of planet Earth always considered their creators gods and goddesses, because they came from “up-there,” from above the clouds—from heaven. Since they were descending from the sky, in most instances with a lot of thunder, fire and lightning, they had to be gods.

Because underdeveloped humans, who had never seen advanced technological creations such as flying machines, could find no other explanation, those beings had to be divine—gods—and therefore had to be worshiped and even feared. After all, those were the gods that had created them, so they could most certainly exterminate them if they wished.

I have given you several origin stories, however, none of them have been proven so far. In some cases, we are told that there is no need for (scientific) proof; we simply must believe because it has been written so. In other cases, we are told that the geniuses in the mainstream scientific community believe they have the answers; they just don’t agree on which is the right answer. In other words, they don’t know either; although some insist that they do.

Many years ago, I heard this fascinating presentation of a unique origin theory: somewhere around about two to three million years ago, Mars lost its atmosphere and water in some sort of catastrophic event. The presenter explained that Mars, at the time, was very Earth-like. It was very plausible that human-like hominids inhabited Mars and had evolved to a scientific and technological level that allowed them to predict this oncoming disaster that would destroy their planet, in sufficient time that they came up with a plan to save, at least some of the inhabitants. They had to have been studying our solar system, looking for a suitable planet to escape to, and discovered that planet Earth was very Mars-like. They sent teams of astronauts on scouting missions to Earth and found an area that looked suitable for their purposes. They then set up a safe environment in an area that was defined by the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, known to us as Mesopotamia. They began sending teams of scientists and workers, to set up a base camp and build a bio-dome with living quarters and food production facilities. As time was running out, they began transferring spaceship-loads of Martians, to occupy the newly created facilities. Unfortunately, the catastrophe hit, destroying the atmosphere and the Martian civilization before they could all be saved. The new arrivals were to live and multiply in this specially created environment until there was need to expand their territory due to a growing population.

Wait a minute. Doesn’t that sound familiar? Isn’t that similar to what Elon Musk and Space-X intend to do on Mars? Send astronauts and scientists, build facilities and populate them with Earthlings (without the global catastrophe, of course). That would almost be like returning the Martians to Mars! So, the Martians, they could be us… (Ref 5)

Many cultures, all over the Earth believe that we humans were created by divine beings—gods who had come here from somewhere in the heavens: the firmament, outer space. In India, China, Egypt, South America and in the Southwest of the United States, there are myths of space faring heavenly beings descending from the sky in flaming chariots, golden disks and fiery dragons, roaring and belching smoke, and creating the first man, then teaching mankind how to build, raise animals and grow crops. These divine beings would interact with their creation until they could be left on their own; but always promising to return at some time in the future. If these cultures all believe that these are not myths, but actual events, recorded, remembered and passed down generation to generation, who are we to say “it ain’t so?”

New evidence about Humanity’s origins is being discovered on an almost daily basis, with the advent of new infrared imaging, radar technology, and via the use of satellite imagery. We are discovering that we have all been wrong about how long Modern Humans, Homo Sapiens have been roaming planet Earth. And, one of these days, we will be told, which of the above theories will answer the question: where did we come from? But I have a funny feeling, it may be a combination of all the above.

What do you think?

REFERENCES

Ref 1: I have read about Panspermia in various publications, including Atlantis Rising Magazine.

Ref 2: Cosmism was a topic touched upon in an Ancient Aliens video, regarding the Soviet Union’s secret interest in UFOs and Extraterrestrials.

Ref 3: The story of Cain and Abel fascinated me, so I checked it out in the King James version of the Bible, pub. 2009, in La Sainte Bible, Version Synodale, Pub. 1952 – My Ecole de Dimanche (Sunday school in France) Bible, and finally in Unger’s Bible Dictionary, Pub. 1987. They all tell basically the same tale, and none have a satisfactory explanation for the Land of Nod, to the east of Eden.

Ref 4: The Annunaki creating Modern Man, came from my reading a series of books by Zecharia Sitchin. The first volume being: The Twelfth Planet, dealing with creation.

Ref 5: I attended a couple of lectures on the topic of the destruction of the Planet Mars, some forty years ago. I summed up as best as I could, the information I remembered. 

Rediscovering Ronald Reagan… at The Reagan Library-Museum

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My wife Bonnie was waving an American flag and I had just removed my Fedora and was waving wildly at the cheering crowd below, surrounding Airforce One as we stepped out of the Boeing 707, with cameras flashing as photographers were jockeying to take our photographs. I had just won the election and become the seventy-fifth president of the United States. It almost felt real. Wait! Rewind the tape. This was just a day dream I had gotten lost in, looking down from Airforce One, as we exited the jet following our tour. This particular aircraft had flown seven U.S. presidents, all around the world, while in service.

President Nixon was the first. Then came Ford, Jimmy Carter, President Reagan, H. W. Bush, Bill Clinton, and finally George W. Bush.

The Boeing 707 was designated as Airforce One (when the President is onboard), and SAM 27000 (with no presidential occupant) and was accepted into the Air Force to shuttle U.S. presidents to and from their destinations, from 1972 to 1990. It flew President Reagan over 660,000 miles – to 26 foreign countries and 46 U.S. states. SAM 27000 was decommissioned in 2001, then disassembled over a period of several weeks, and subsequently transported in pieces to the partially completed Ronald Reagan Presidential Library and Museum. There, the aircraft was painstakingly reassembled in ten weeks, while the rest of the Airforce One Pavilion was being completed around it. Once completed, it was hoisted onto pedestals, secured, painted and polished over a period of five weeks to be ready for the formal opening of the Pavilion to the public on October 24, 2005.

So, no, I hadn’t won any election and there was no cheering crowd as my wife and I emerged from our interior tour, to be photographed by a professional photographer, who, by the way, instructed us on how to pose for our special picture. “Wave with your right hand and your wife, with her left hand,” she instructed us, “while she holds the American flag in her right.” However, with that old fedora on my head, I thought I looked very un-presidential, more like a dork having his picture taken.

“Do you mind,” I said, “if I wave my hat in my right hand, like I actually won the election?” “It’s your picture,” she replied. So, I did, and the rest is history. We then proceeded to stand in line, which at this time of day was still rather short, and we had a similar picture taken on the steps of Marine One, the presidential helicopter, operated by the Marine Corps. That picture came out great as well.

Before I go on any further, I had better explain where we were and how we got there. My daughter Christina, Teen for short, and her husband Doug, treated both sides of the family, that would be Doug’sparents Jim and Cile, and Bonnie and me, to a group outing to Santa Barbara. We stayed at a very nice little hotel, close to the hub of activity, with quite a nice,complimentary buffet breakfast. This was to be our base of operation as we were going to visit the Santa Barbara Mission and the shopping district, in addition to the Reagan Presidential Library and Museum.

To me, the Reagan Library in Simi Valley, was the special treat. I had been a fan of Reagan’s since his movie cowboy days. I had voted for him in the California gubernatorial elections, as well as both of his presidential runs. He had been my favorite president. He may also have been the very first U.S. president who truly understood the cancer that was threatening to take over the free world: Communism. President Reagan was looking forward to a future without a Communist threat and in his meetings with Premier Gorbachev, he felt that Communism was on its last leg.

Our destination, the Reagan Library, was but a skip and a hop from our Santa Barbara hotel; actually, about 63 miles. The final stretch being a long, winding two-lane road up the side of a mountain rising out of Simi valley, lined with banners depicting all the United States presidents from Washington to Trump, welcoming and guiding visitors to the top of this 900(or so)-foot mountain that the library sits on.

We got an early start and arrived in Simi Valley at about 10 AM. Along the winding road, there are several parking lots with signs indicating that a shuttle will pick you up, if you park in any one of them. We of course decided to try our luck and drive to the top to see what the parking situation was like. As it turned out, we had gotten there early enough so that there was still plenty of parking available. We got a spot just a couple of hundred feet from the entrance to the library and the life-sized, bronze statue of the man who became president, welcoming visitors with an outstretched right hand and holding his cowboy hat in the other.

As I mentioned, the Library sits on top of the hill and covers 29 acres of the three-hundred-acre site. From far away, it truly gives the illusion of Reagan’s Shining City on a Hill, especially at night. You can take a guided tour, a self-guided tour with earbuds that plug-in at every exhibit, or go on your own and follow your nose, from room to room, exhibit to exhibit, until you wind your way down to the Airforce One Pavilion over looking the valley.

We all decided to take the tour on our own, at our own pace, taking time to study as much of the exhibits as we were interested in. Bonnie and I sat in on several of the videos that were playing in the little theaters along the tour route. We sat in on some of President Reagan’s famous speeches, at his inaugurations, at some press conferences with world leaders, at his meetings with Gorbachev, and of course, his famous declaration at the Brandenburg Gate, when his words “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!” generated such raucous ovation by the West-Berliners that it could be heard on the other side of the wall, even though the East Berlin security forces had been ordered to keep the East Berliners away from that spot. There is a life-sized scene of bronze statues of both President Reagan and Premier Gorbachev, depicting them at their Washington summit; well worth seeing.

We followed a narrow labyrinth depicting what the Berlin wall neighborhood would have looked like, before it was finally torn down. Of course, this isn’t the real deal. It’s just an exhibit made to look like the Berlin Wall. However, out front on the Ruwe Terrace, there is an actual four to five-foot-wide by about nine to ten-foot-high section of concrete, cut out of the actual Berlin Wall, with all the graffiti untouched. I saw it. I touched it. It looks much better here, as an exhibit then it did in Berlin, used as a means of separating families and friends, and controlled by machine-gun toting communist troops with trained guard dogs.

We took our time, and we listened and learned all about the life and accomplishments of the 40th President of the United States, from his birth on February 6, 1911, his years as a lifeguard which began in 1926 at age 15, the years at Eureka College, from 1928, to his graduation in 1932. Soon after his graduation from college, Reagan became asports announcer on the radio until, in 1937 he went on a trip to Los Angeles, to cover the Chicago Cubs. Next thing he knew, he had been discovered by a talent agent and soon began making money in the movies; making them, that is. You might remember (if you’re old enough) the now famous line “Win one for the Gipper” that Reagan uttered in the movie Knute Rockne, All American, in 1940, about a young, dying football player’s last request to his team.

Of course, Bedtime for Bonzo is the 1951 movie that the opposition (Dems) liked to link Reagan to, while reminding folks that he was nothing more than an actor. How little those Dema really know, eh? Reagan made a number of what were considered B-Movies and several rather good Westerns, that my mother and I would go see, while we still lived in France, during our DISPLACED(title of my book) years.

You can not only learn about all his movies, but they are all (well, almost all) available on DVD, in the museum gift shop.

We slowly made our way through Reagan’s Actors Guild presidency, the House Unamerican Activities Committee (HUAC) Hearings on the Communists trying to take over Hollywood, in 1947 (It looks like it took them until the new millennium to succeed).

From 1953 to 1962, Ronald Reagan hosted the General Electric Theater. Did you know that, in 1964, Reagan took over hosting of Death Valley Days, from Stanley Andrews, who had been hosting the show since 1952? Reagan hosted the show until 1965. This was his last stint in show business as he plunged into politics, and in 1966, Ronald Reagan beat Pat Brown, you know, Jerry Brown’s daddy, in that year’s California gubernatorial election, in a landslide.

Following two terms as California governor, Reagan remained in politics. Finally, in 1980, he beat Jimmy Carter in a landslide and was sworn in as the 40th President of the United States on January20, 1981. There is so much material, videos, photographs and mementoes, from his eight years as president that you need to go and explore for yourself. There were four summits with Gorbachev, his Peace Through Strength, RebuildingAmerica, the Reagan Ranch and Camp David, and of course, barely settled in, his near-death encounter with a gun-wielding young man.

John W. Hinkley Jr. was a deranged young man, who was born to a wealthy family. He became obsessed with Jodie Foster (the actress) and tried to get her attention by trying to assassinate President Reagan on March 30, 1981 in Washington, D.C. He managed to wound President Reagan when one of the bullets ricocheted and hit him in the chest. During his attack, Hinkley also managed to wound a police officer, a Secret Service agent while critically injuring President Reagan’sPress Secretary, James Brady, who unfortunately died from complications of his injuries, some 33 years later.

The final insult to all his victims came in 2016, when Hinkley was released from the mental institution that he had been transferred to, from prison, to live with his aging mother. Upon his release, the prosecutor stated, “I don’t think that anybody who tries to nullify a national election with a bullet should ever have been walking free, no matter what their mental state.” This whole story is told along with the gun Hinkley used, photographs, videos, and other items, all at this particular exhibit.

The Reagans spent a lot of their retirement years at Rancho del Cielo, or Ranch of the Sky, a 688-acre ranch located atop the Santa Ynez Mountain range north-west of Santa Barbara. While still in the employ of the United States taxpayers, the ranch was the vacation home for President and Nancy Reagan. Some special international visitors, such as Mikhail Gorbachev, the Soviet Premier, were treated to Western living by being invited to the ranch. You will also see pictures of the eighty- year-old former president chopping wood and riding his horse on the ranch; just a more casual side of our former president.

Our next stop on our library tour was the full-sized reproduction of the Oval Office, from the days when President Reagan occupied the White House. It is furnished as it had been during the Reagan years. If you have never been to Washington D.C. and seen the Oval Office there, this one, at the Reagan Library looks just like it, and is easier to get to. In the exhibit next door, you’ll find photographs and other relics depicting life in and around Washington D.C.

If you think that everything at the Reagan Library is Republican in nature, you are mistaken. For instance, when we visited, there was on display, a huge collection of all the broches that President Clinton’s Secretary of state, Madeleine Albright, wore during all her years on the job. There are also photographs, video footage, and other mementoes of President Reagan’s friendly nemesis, the Speaker of the House, Tip O’Neill. You can’t miss this exhibit as it occupies a good-size corner of the museum, and it’s on the way to the Airforce One Pavilion, where we were able to check out the various modes of transportation for President Reagan, by jet, limousines and Helicopter. This is also where we had our photographs taken on Airforce One and Marine One.

I never met Ronald Reagan in person, but after spending that day at the Reagan Library, I felt like I knew him as well as the guy who lives next door. So, whether you remember President Reagan with respect and even fondness, or you don’t, take the time to go down to Simi valley and visit this marvelous, nay, magnificent repository of historical information. As a matter of fact, take your junior high to high school age kids, and even younger, to let them experience history. They would probably learn more history in one day at the Reagan Library, then they would in a whole semester in school. Besides, they would get a chance to tour a presidential jet and helicopter and check out an F-14 Tomcat Fighter Jet, parked right outside the library.

After the museum, we took a stroll in the fabulous, lush garden surrounding it, where you’ll find a replica of the White House Rose Garden, the Gipper’s Grove and of course the jagged concrete slab from the Berlin Wall. We also paid our respects at the Memorial Site, where both President Reagan and the First lady, Nancy Reagan were laid to rest. 

Last, but not least, it would be remiss on my part if I failed to mention that we sat down for a sandwich and a beer at the Ronald Reagan Pub, looking out of the 70-plus-foot plate-glass front of the Airforce One pavilion, overlooking the valley. The Ronald Reagan Pub is an actual Irish pub from Ballyporeen, Ireland, where president Reagan stopped in for a pint, on a visit to Ireland. It was disassembled, shipped over and reassembled in the Airforce One pavilion where it serves sandwiches, snacks and cold, cold beer—after all that walking we did, that beer hit the spot. And,don’t you be worried none, they do serve soft-drinks for the wee lads and lassies.

Here is some additional information of interest: at the time of our visit, there was on loan, an enormous exhibit on the Titanic; you know, the ship that sank after hitting an iceberg. It was set up in a roomall its own and was fantastic but is no longer there. However, new exhibits are periodically brought in to replace the ones leaving. This year (2018) the exhibit happens to be about Pompeii, the city in Italy that was destroyed and buried by an eruption of Mount Vesuvius, a big, bad volcano, in AD 79, in the south of Italy, not very far from modern day Naples. This is something that Bonnie and I had to travel to Italy to see, but this year, you get to see it at the Reagan Library in Simi Valley, California. One of these days, I might even write about our visit there. Just drive on down to the Reagan Library and explore history and you’ll get to see the Pompeii exhibit as well.

A trip to the Reagan Library would make a very nice Christmas present for someone who might be a history junky, like a dad or a grandpa, or old Uncle Joe…

For more information, go to reaganlibrary.gov.

Where has Civility Gone?

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Civility is supposed to be exemplified by how our leaders, the people in power, the people on top, the professors, teachers, and civic leaders behave. When teachers are preaching of a coming civil war and encourage their students to resist the current, duly elected government; when liberal, activist, delusional, elected officials tell their followers to go out and harass people they disagree with; when restaurant owners refuse to serve customers simply because they disagree with their politics, civility has been kicked to the curb.

In my humble opinion, these disgusting individuals have no place in a civil society, let alone in a leadership position, and maybe, just maybe, they should be kicked to the curb.

Where has all the civility gone, a long, long time ago? It’s a pretty good question to ask in light of the nasty hatchet job—I mean hearings—we witnessed, to prevent a new candidate from getting to the Supreme Court. When I first started watching these proceedings, I thought I was watching an episode of the Spanish Inquisition. Any moment, I expected to see some dark and dingy torture chamber, where Friar Cory ‘Spartacus’ de Torquemada Booker and his Holiness, Senior Friar, Ricardo Durbin, along with Mother Superior Diana, the Lamb of Mary, Feinstein, Sister Kamala Harris of the Sacramento Convent, Sister “Mazie’ Amazing Hirono of the Hawaiian Convent, all as pure as driven snow, were going to strap the candidate to a rack and tear him limb from limb, lest he confessed to a dastardly deed that he denies committing. All the while, torturing in public the poor confused accuser who was only trying to bring light to a harrowing experience that she couldn’t totally remember.

Then, there were the rabid followers outside with pitchforks and signs, indicating that if the Inquisitors couldn’t do their tasks, they were ready to crucify the candidate… and, perhaps, even the accuser; because by God, somebody had to be found guilty. You think I’m being funny, don’t you? Well, I am, because if I thought about this whole thing in a serious manner, I would be disgusted.
Well actually, I am disgusted.

Has anybody ever asked Holier Than Thou Cory Booker about his sexual misconduct? Maybe he should have been investigated before getting elected. But I guess, the right is more passive and civil. Has anybody ever asked Richard ‘Dick’ Durbin, how he became a millionaire, since he’s supposed to be working for the common folks, and I know, we don’t pay him a lot. Likewise, for ‘Leaking’ Diane Feinstein, who should be asked how she and her husband become multi-millionaires? Oh wait, didn’t she push through legislation that allowed her husband to “rake in the dough?” Why hasn’t she ever been investigated? Oh wait, I know why. It’s because the opposition party isn’t as nasty and cruel, perhaps even deranged, as Cory’s, Dick’s, Kamala’s, Mazie’s and Diane’s party.

Isn’t the Senate of the United States of America supposed to have a code of ethics and conduct; rules for the questioning potential Supreme Court Justices? Aren’t all the Senators on the committee supposed to behave in a civil manner and respect everyone’s rights, including the accuser and the accused? Because, by simply being accused of something, doesn’t necessarily mean that you are guilty, until sufficient evidence and first-hand witness accounts have been presented to make the case. And, just because someone has accused you of something, it doesn’t necessarily make it so.

After listening to these hearings for unending hours, then watching the pundits on various national TV channels, dissect, reconstitute and regurgitate everything that had been said, to make their own version of the story, I still did not hear any such evidence that would convince me to convict. So, something nasty happened to this poor victim. She was uncertain of specific details. None of the witnesses could corroborate her story, one hundred percent. But it appears that it was enough for the Liberal Inquisition and their sycophant media partners to not only condemn the candidate, but to also toss all aging white men in the mix as though they were all guilty, simply by being old and white.

Tell me, where has all the civility gone?

When Sonia Maria Sotomayor was appointed by President Barack Obama in May 2009 as an Associate Justice to the Supreme Court of the United States, by August 2009, she had been confirmed, by a bi-partisan vote, without any theatrics, and certainly none of the visceral mob attack that the current candidate had to go through. Not only that, but she became the first Justice of Hispanic descent and the first Latina on the Supreme Court, even though, she was a liberal. I guess, the Republicans were a lot more civil, than the Democrat party.

Here’s another example of how candidates for the Supreme court should be treated; fairly and civilly, by both parties. Ruth Bader Ginsburg was appointed to the Supreme Court of the United States by President Bill Clinton and took her oath of office on August 10, 1993. She was the second female justice of just four, to be confirmed to the court. She is one of the most liberal justices on the court and has not shied away from expressing her leftist views in her decisions and to the media. BTW, did you know that Ginsberg was a lawyer for the ACLU? According to some legal experts, this alone should have disqualified her from serving on the Supreme Court. However, the Republicans didn’t want to play dirty, like the opposition usually does, so, unlike the Democrats, they didn’t make a fuss and call her names, they simply confirmed her. I guess, Republicans were a lot more civil.

Also, hats off to Senator Susan Collins for not only being civil, but courageous in adding her support to the Supreme Court candidate, with an eloquent speech that took some guts, in light of the hatred and caustic liberal attack on the candidate’s character; in fact, an attack aimed at his family and supporters as well.

Enough with judges and lawyers, where has civility gone in everyday life?

A couple days ago, I heard on the radio that some swastikas have been painted on a synagogue in Indiana, of all places. As a matter of fact, in the past couple months, a number of them have appeared on Jewish places of worship and even businesses, across the United states.
This is a good place to repeat my question: where has all the civility gone in everyday life?

I mean swastikas, really? Have all these half-wits already forgotten what World War II was all about? Did none of these people ever go to school and learn about the U.S. military fighting Hitler’s Nazi Stormtroopers? Of course, I don’t believe that these people even know what NAZI stands for: The National Socialists of WWII Germany. You know, the ones that sent 7 to 8 million souls to their Maker. Haven’t these illiterate clowns had enough of that murderous belief system? When will they ever learn? I suppose when hatred clouds your judgement, it’s hard to see the truth. So maybe, these hating zombies, will just never learn. Well, there’s my answer: they’re zombies. They’re at least brain-dead and have no soul. How could they be civil?

Here’s a good one: where has all the civility gone on our streets and highways?
A few weeks ago, I was driving down Clayton Road in Concord, going home after bowling, when I was nearing a shopping center parking lot. I was following several vehicles as I got near the entrance of the lot and could see an individual in a pickup truck, getting ready to jump into the flow of traffic, holding a large cup of java in his right hand. Traffic was moving at a good clip, so I figured, in no way was that individual going to be stupid enough to cut into the flow, right in front of me. I was wrong! I had given this individual, way too much credit. When I had first spotted the pickup, I had assumed it was a guy. As the truck flashed in front of me and I had to slam my brakes on while losing my baseball cap, I was almost rear-ended. That’s when realization hit, that I had almost been dispatched to the junkyard of souls and vehicles by an individual of the female persuasion.

As the pickup jumped in front me, I caught a glimpse of a rather elderly female, cigarette dangling from her lips, Frappuccino in her right fist and steering her vehicle with her left hand. My screeching tires attracted almost as much attention as the pickup which clipped the sidewalk and almost nailed a couple of pedestrians who had turned to see what all the hullabaloo and tire screeching, and brake squealing was all about. When the pickup finally straightened its course, she floored it and took off in a cloud of smoke, from her exhaust and the driver side window. After a quick word of thanks to the Big Guy above, I drove home, still a bit shaken. I’m almost certain, the driver couldn’t even have spelled civility, let alone practice it.

Here are a few more examples of lack of civility; heck, add a lack of logic and common sense.
A couple walks into a coffee shop. They’re not talking to each other. They are texting; probably not to each other. But, you never know. As they get to the counter, they momentarily lift their noses out of the cellphone’s range to order. They sit down at a table by a window. At this point, I’m thinking, maybe they’ll pocket their device and start communicating with each other. No, their noses are back in the direction of their electronic communicators. They lift their heads to look at their order as it is delivered, without any acknowledgement, and return to texting. They munch on their bran muffins without saying a word to each other and keep texting, until it’s time to leave. They exit the coffee shop together. One turns right. The other turns left. No words are exchanged. I’m thinking: they didn’t even realize that they had sat together and had a muffin and a latte or a Mochaccino with low-fat soy-almond milk. They probably didn’t even know each other; but, how could they? They never looked up long enough from their electronic device to really know what was going on. Was that un-civil or uncivilized? How about clueless?

Since November is the month for Thanksgiving, let’s give thanks for having the civility to not do any of the stupid things I have listed above and pray for all the knuckleheads out there that insist on cutting you off in traffic, that text while they’re driving, that text while sitting across from each other in a restaurant, and the drivers who insist on showing their affection for their pets by holding them in their laps while operating a motor vehicle.

And how about trying to be more civil with each other—even with strangers? And once the elections are over, let’s try to understand why our best friends voted the way they did and not necessarily the way we wish they had. After all, we are still living in what is supposed to be a civilized and free country, where we don’t have to agree with each other on everything—not even the choice for a new Supreme Court Justice.

Also, don’t forget to give special thanks for, and to whoever cooks that wonderful Thanksgiving dinner that you just got invited to. And pray that civility returns to our society.

Blood & Death in Budapest

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This year will be the 62nd anniversary of the Hungarian Revolt of 1956, so, I thought that I should share with everyone, what happens when Socialism goes awry. Hungary has had her share of invaders and tyrants but had somehow, always managed to survive—but not without bloodshed and death.

In 1956, the people rose up to again try to shed the chokehold of a very powerful and suffocating totalitarian dictatorship, the Soviet Socialist regime. This brief moment of bravado by a small, upstart nation, lasted only for a couple weeks, from about October 23 until about November 10, 1956. But for that brief moment in time, the people, everyday folks, students, the elite, and even the military, slapped the big red bear in the snout and told him, they’d had enough. Before I can get into my story, I have to explain what and who started the whole concept of Socialism being good for the people and where it went wrong.

“Religion is the opium of the people” declared German philosopher Karl Marx (May 5, 1818 – March 14, 1883) on his way to founding Marxism, along with his pal Friedrich Engels. Frequently, people have misinterpreted the saying as “Religion is the opiate of the masses” which is incorrect. In German, the statement goes as follows “Die Religion… ist das Opium des Volkes.” The point that I’m making here is that Marx sympathetically analyzed religion as a relief-giving drug to people in distress—mostly workers and the lower classes—just as opium-based drugs would give relief to injured or physically distressed people. Marx was not necessarily criticizing religion but was actually explaining the need for having “Opium” for the people; something to relieve the pains of the drudgery of the everyday workaday world.

His proposed social transformational ideology would eventually become the ideology of the Communist Party of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics as well as all international communist parties. After Lenin put his two-kopek’s worth into the philosophical mix, it became known as Marxism-Leninism. Why Engels’ name was omitted from the mix, I haven’t a clue.

While the philosophy of Marxism-Leninism may sound great on paper, it never got translated into a workable system in real life. What Marx and later on, his comrades proposed was to abolish Capitalism and transform it into Socialism, where members of the working class became the ruling class, under the tutelage of professional socialist revolutionaries, like Stalin. Once this process was realized, the dictatorship of the proletariat determined the direction of the socialist state. However, there was always to be a big dog (or bear) running the show. The one individual who had ultimate power over all the little, revolutionary, proletariat dictators-in-waiting—the Biggest of the Big comrades—was Joseph Stalin. He did appear to have supreme power, however, even he was terminated by a secret cabal or supreme council of nameless, faceless comrades that pulled the strings of the big Socialist puppets.

Just for your information, here is the succession of Supreme Comrades, or Chairman of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR: Lenin was the first in 1922 and lasted only two years before he died in office in 1924 and Comrade Stalin took over the very next day. Stalin, the mass-murderer, lasted from 1924 until his death in 1953, under suspicious circumstances. Next in line was Georgy Malenkov who only lasted about six months and was deposed by Nikita Khrushchev who was in charge from 1953 to 1964 when he was forcibly removed from office and was sent to the funny farm where he died in 1971—all the while being persona-non-grata to the Soviet people with his name being removed from the list of Soviet heroes. Khrushchev was followed by Leonid Brezhnev who ruled from 1964 to his death in 1982. The next one was Yuri Andropov who ran the USSR from 1982 until his death in 1984. He was followed by Konstantin Chernenko who was in charge from 1984 to his death in 1985. Mikhail Gorbachev ran the Soviet Socialist Empire from 1985 to 1991, when he resigned, and the Soviet Union was, for all intents and purposes, dissolved. Some guy name Gennady Yanayev tried to engineer a coup-d’état on August 19, 1991 but lasted only until August 21, 1991. Nobody’s heard from him since.

One interesting bit of information coming out of this is, all the Supreme leaders of the Soviet Union apparently died in office—some under unexplainable circumstances—except for Khrushchev who went cuckoo, and Gorbachev, who knew when to pull out.

I lived through these successions, in Europe until 1956, when we immigrated to the US. In Europe, we had to study all this in our World History class. Here in the USA, we all followed, very closely, the expansion of the USSR, through the media.

As my main theme is the 1956 Hungarian Revolt or Revolution, Nikita Khrushchev was the designated Soviet Socialist mass-murderer because, although not all the evil done to the Hungarian people was done on his watch and with his approval, he happened to be in charge. Stalin, the evil bastard, was long dead, but his elimination of millions (28 – 60 million) of Soviet and Eastern Bloc citizens including Hungarians, from the face of the earth, was not forgotten.

Let me go back to the beginning, for a moment. Old Karl Marx was sort of right, when he declared that people needed an opium, except, all he was doing was replacing Religion with Socialism as the new Opiate. Either can be considered habit forming.
One last point: Marx, Engels and Adolph Hitler were all German philosophers dabbling in defining Socialism. Marx and Engels branched out into Communism and Hitler chose Nazism; two different forms of Socialism for sure; but both just as deadly!

•••

Hungary was on the losing side of the war, having been unable to shed the link to Adolph Hitler and the mass-murderer of over 7 million innocents. To reward my country for her failure, we were forced under the oversight of Soviet Socialist dictator supreme, Joseph Stalin, or Büdös KurvaJóska (yo-sh-ka the damned stinking whore) was about as civil a nickname that I could repeat. To make certain that no one could breach the boundaries of the Soviet Bloc countries, Stalin’s invading forces and their minions surrounded them with an Iron Curtain, made up of twenty-foot-high barbed wire fences, with strategically placed machine gun turrets and patrolled by sub-machine gun toting Soviet military patrols accompanied by killer dogs. There were grumblings in the Eastern Bloc for years, but it all came to head for Hungarians in the 1950s.

On October 23, 1956, Budapest, was again being brutalized by the Marxist-Leninist government, under directions from Moscow. Having had enough, people took to the streets and demanded that their voices be heard. Hungarian students had compiled a list of sixteen policy demands to be presented to the Soviet-backed, Hungarian Communist government.

The document containing these sixteen demands was a de facto declaration of independence from the Soviet Union and covered the following issues:

1) The removal of all Soviet troops from Hungary.
2) Party elections via secret ballots.
3) Creation of a new government under the direction of Imre Nagy.
4) A people’s tribunal to try all those individuals responsible for Hungary’s political and economic ruins.
5) That secret ballot general elections be held.
6) That political equivalence with other Eastern bloc countries and a non-interference agreement with them would be negotiated.
7) The Economic planning and reorganization of Hungary by specialists in Economics and Finance.
8) Fair foreign trade agreements must be reached, including the inventory and sale of Hungarian Uranium deposits to be returned under the nation’s control.
9) Revision of industry norms and adjustment of salaries according to job classification.
10) Equal treatment of farms and rational distribution of farm products.
11) Return and repatriation of all WWII prisoners from the Soviet Union and other foreign countries.
12) Freedom of speech and expression and a free press.
13) Removal of Stalin’s statue and replacement by heroes of the 1848-49 Revolution. 14) New uniforms for the military as well as return to the old Hungarian national emblems and traditions.
15) Declaration of solidarity by the Hungarian students for the students of Warsaw, Poland in their fight for their nation’s independence.
16) A national youth parliament to be held on October 27, in Budapest, representing the entire nation’s youth.

Over 100,000 unarmed demonstrators marched through the streets to Radio Budapest. There, they were hoping to present their grievances on the air. Instead, the group carrying the petition was surrounded by government security forces known as AVO (State Protection Forces), basically communist thugs, and dragged inside the radio station. Eventually, the crowd that had gathered outside, had grown to over 200,000 and demanded the release of the detained students. Instead of negotiating, the security forces opened fire on the unarmed protestors.

Close to a hundred protestors were killed and many more wounded according to some of the people that I have spoken to over the years. This act of savagery so enraged the crowd that they vowed to return, this time, armed and ready to fight back.

Thus, began the 1956 Hungarian Uprising (Sometimes called the Hungarian Revolution or Revolt of 1956).
Imre Nagy, the Prime Minister and puppet of Moscow, though a devout Communist party acolyte, actually agreed with the rebels in regard to somewhat more autonomy for his country. Unfortunately, his vacillation caused him to be deposed by the Soviet hierarchy and whisked away to Moscow.

For just about two weeks, the rebels meted out some well-deserved punishment on the AVO which was closely associated with the KGB and the Soviet occupying forces. Factions of the Hungarian Military which ran somewhat independently of the Soviets, sided with the rebels, turning over loads of weapons and ammunitions, and even tanks. When it all started, most rebels had to rely on old WWII weapons, hunting rifles and even BB-guns; mainly because, the first thing the Nazis did, was disarm the populace. Then came the commies and they confiscated all the WWII weapons they could find. Hungary could have used an NRA to fight for gun rights! Then again, the Communist government would probably have made them disappear.

For a brief moment, newly armed by the Hungarian Military, it looked like the revolution might just succeed. Many in the Hungarian military joined the fight on the side of the rebels while the rest stood down and refused to engage. The Soviets Socialist masters however, would not have any of that; letting these upstarts succeed might embolden the rest of the Soviet bloc countries and what a mess that would cause for the mighty Red Bear! So, they called in several hundred tanks from their Mongolian divisions who ruthlessly mowed down the rebels and eventually put an end to the uprising that might just have succeeded.
By around November 10, it was all but over. Retribution would have to wait.

•••

Cardinal Mindszenty who had been the leader of the Catholic Church in Hungary since October 1945 had been imprisoned by the Communists since 1949. He had been imprisoned by the pro-Nazi regime during World War II for his opposition to fascism. After WWII, he was again prosecuted, this time for his opposition to Communism. He was tortured and sentenced to life in prison by the Hungarian Socialist government. The whole world condemned his treatment. The United Nations even passed a resolution, however ineffective; just a lot of words. He languished in prison until the 1956 uprising when he was freed by the rebels and granted asylum in the United States embassy in Budapest. In 1971, the Hungarian Socialist government relented and finally and formally allowed him to leave.

I had the honor of meeting the man when he came to San Francisco to visit a large Hungarian gathering in his honor, in the summer of 1972 and was able to take a couple of photographs of the brave Cardinal.

We all loved and respected this man for the valiant way he had withstood his horrific treatment at the hands of the Communists and his own countrymen during WWII, and his choice of staying at US Embassy in Budapest until his country would be free.
He died in exile in Vienna Austria, in 1975.

•••

The final tally for the revolt was about twenty-eight hundred freedom fighters killed. An estimated thirteen thousand were wounded. Interim Prime Minister Imre Nagy, Defense Minister Pál (Paul) Maléter were among the 230-350 participants in the uprising, who were put on trial and summarily executed. By the time it was all over, an estimated 200,000 had fled across the border into Austria. A number of the refugees ended up in the United States and many made it all the way to the San Francisco Bay Area which already had a sizeable Hungarian immigrant population who had been coming here since the turn of the century; that would be the twentieth century.
I was not in Budapest in 1956.

I cannot even imagine how I would have felt had I been living in my city of birth, at the time. I had just turned fourteen in April of 1956, but I already understood what had become of my country. I wouldn’t have hesitated to throw in with the rebels and tossed a few Molotov Cocktails at the Soviet T34 and T85 tanks. I would probably even have helped the rebels hang a few AVO officers. With any luck at all, I might have made it out alive and escaped to the West with those 200,000 and crossed into Austria over the Bridge at Andau. But it’s very possible that I might have been one of those 2800 brave souls who died for freedom in the streets of my Budapest.

There was no organized effort to go over there and fight with the rebels, because it was all over before anything could have been done. However, we went about collecting money and clothing, even at Trinity Methodist Church in Berkeley, where my parents worked. I even chipped in helping as an interpreter, since no one at the church spoke Hungarian and the newcomers didn’t speak a lick of English. That’s the best I could do since at the time, I didn’t have a lot of money myself.

This is truly an all-too-brief synopsis of the events that took place between October 23 and November 10, 1956. People in the Free world watched in horror and agonized over the events that flickered daily in 56 shades of grey on all the available Bay Area TV channels. There wasn’t much that the free world was willing to do but analyze, sympathize and summarize. There wasn’t much that we, as Hungarian Refugees ourselves, could do. We all knew too well that the inevitable was going to happen again: that Budapest was again bloodied and battered and soon the mighty Soviet Socialist Empire would be in charge, just like before.

The 1956 uprising did unintentionally, start a movement to put an end to the chokehold a totalitarian socialist dictatorship like the Soviet Union had over Eastern Europe. That’s the beauty of a movement, once it gets started, it keeps going forward, however slowly at times until it reaches its goal. It took a while for this movement to get to that point and succeed. But as the United States, in the person of Ronald Reagan, finally got behind the movement with his now famous declaration of June 12, 1987 in Berlin, when he boldly shouted “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall” which brought about the beginning of the end of the Soviet Socialist Empire. Unfortunately, it took several more years for the Red Bear to finally remove its bloody claws from Eastern Europe.

I had to choke back tears just thinking about the brave populace that had dared to stand up against their unelected Soviet Socialist masters backed by several hundred Mongolian tanks, with the equivalent of bb-guns and Molotov-cocktails, with the rest of the world watching it all unfold on TV while stuffing their faces with Chee-tos and ding-dongs.

On a personal note: my aunt and uncle, as well their five children, were all stripped of their property, their jobs and their homes, with no compensation from the Hungarian Socialist state. They eventually moved away to different environs, where they basically lived as paupers, with occasional help from my mother in form of postal money orders. Some of the relatives were actually tossed into some dingy socialist jail, from where, some never returned. If you don’t believe me, talk to some eastern European emigrants; they’ll tell you.

And let’s not forget, as long as there are dictators like Vladimir Putin and the Brothers Castro, Socialism in one form or another will rear its ugly head, and that’s not a safe thing for Russians, Cubans, Ukrainians, Hungarians, or even Americans.

I wrote the following verses a few years ago, to memorialize the brave 1956 Freedom Fighters. Please note, in case you didn’t know: Magyar stands for Hungarian and Himnusz is what the Hungarian national anthem is called.

FREEDOM WAS WITHIN THEIR GRASP
A Ballad of the 1956 Hungarian Freedom Fighters

As I was lounging in my favorite chair
Checking out the happenings on the air
When suddenly the babbling talking head
Was handed a piece of paper that he read

The murky black and white TV displayed
Destroyed buildings as people escaped
Tanks were blasting with flashes and booms
Sending peaceful marchers to their doom

A hundred thousand Magyar faces
Singing the Himnusz of the ages
Were trudging forward to the radio station
To present the demands for their nation

Like thunderbolts from an angry God,
Mowed the protestors as they forward pawed
Many were killed, and more were maimed
As the red masters’ stooges reloaded and aimed

The number of demands was but sixteen
The reply of the red stooges was obscene
The stooges’ eyes and ears must have been closed
The heart within their chest was frozen cold

It all started as a peaceful protest
But soon it turned to bloodshed in Budapest
Marchers came unarmed to the confrontation
They’d now have to cook-up a revolution

For a dozen glorious days, they fought and bled
The red star from the Magyar flags was ripped
Soldiers and generals joined their ranks
The red masters responded with Mongolian tanks

The end came very swiftly, so they retreated
No mercy was given to the freedom fighters
As alone stood the Magyar, again defeated
The world applauded it as good theater

Wiping away angry tears, they pleaded
Can you please help us, they repeated?
Is anybody listening, help US, they cried
And just like before, the Magyar died

But for those glorious dozen days
The Russians and AVOs were made to pay
A clear message to the red masters was delivered
Nineteen fifty-six, will always be remembered

Hopelessly wiping angry tears away
In desperation they had tried to change
The world’s opinion to their way
But when the radio went silent, nobody came

Freedom had been within their grasp
Always so elusive as in the past
The Freedom Fighters could almost taste it
With help from the West, they would have made it

Just as it began, so quickly it ended
Thousands had died, and hundreds executed
Hundreds of thousands emigrated
There won’t be freedom till the Reds are defeated

High up in the sky by the Warriors’ trail
God of the Magyar, please do not fail
To remove the yokes and rip away the chains
Do not ever let us be slaves again.

AFTERTHOUGHT
The following may explain why Socialism/Communism is not thriving all over the globe and is on its last leg in Cuba; one can only hope.
There has been a lot of talk lately all over TV and radio, as well as print media about the horrors of bullying. You may think it silly, but the ultimate way of bullying people is to force them to live under Socialism/Communism, because once they have promised to give everyone, everything for free and they can’t deliver, they are forced to bully you into submission or make you disappear from the face of the planet, whether you like it or not.

So, to fight bullying, make certain that no socialist ever gets a foothold on US soil.

Mother Lode Country

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It’s Not That Far Away…
I am of course talking about some wonderful places to visit, right here, in Northern California, within two to two and a half hours of driving, that will take you back in time to the days of cowboys, outlaws, and gold fever; the Mother Lode country. This is the place where gold was discovered, back in 1848 and caused the California Gold Rush, on January 24 of that year, when James Marshall stumbled on some gold nuggets at Sutter’s Mill in Coloma. Marshall’s discovery brought over 300,000 folks to the Sierras, mostly gold hungry miners. But of course, along with them, came some not-so-nice folks, like outlaws, gamblers, and shady ladies of questionable repute, to relieve the poor miners of their new-found wealth.

A hundred and seventy years later, a number of these little old towns have survived the gold rush and remained on the map and in business, as weekend gateway destinations, where you can pan for gold flakes, visit museums, take pictures of old barns, and sample anything from shi-shi Haute-cuisine to good old-fashioned California cooking. And, if you like the taste of wine, there are more than enough vineyards in the Mother Lode country, to satisfy your oenophilic curiosity (from Greek oinos = wine + phile or lover of).

I’m certain that most of you have heard of spelunking. But, just in case you haven’t, it means “exploring caves.” And, there are several caves to explore in the area. Guided tours are offered at some of the most fascinating caves you’ll ever get to see, and all within driving distance. If you’ve never been underground to see what Mother Nature has created below the surface of our planet, you are really missing something.

Then, there are the big trees, the Giant Sequoias. Oh, before I go on any further, let me tell you about a recent trip we took to the Mother Lode and all the fun and interesting things I was able to squeeze into four days and three nights; with the family, of course.

There are a number of charming little towns in gold rush country, with names like Copperopolis, Jamestown, Sonora, Angels camp, Pioneer, Volcano, Sutter Creek, and too many others to name them all. For our trip, we drove to Murphys. It’s a rather simple drive—so long as you pay attention to road signs. As far as the map goes, it’s almost a straight shot from Contra Costa County along State Route or Highway 4, all the way to Murphys. The reason I said to pay attention to road signs is that on the map, the route looks almost straight, but it’s actually a winding, twisting, and turning road in places; but it will get you to Murphys or any other destination along Highway 49, aka the Mother Lode Highway.

According to the 2010 census, Murphys has a population of 2,213. The downtown district, running along Main Street, is roughly one mile and a quarter long, from the Highway 4 turnoff to the very last business on the street, the Val de Vino Winery. We stayed in Murphy’s at rather nice, three-bedroom vacation rental, with a shaded backyard and a small swimming pool. So, this was our base of operation. From there, we took several day trips.

One day, half of our crew took a short drive down to the New Melones Reservoir and rented a speed boat to race around the lake and get cooled off in some shady cove. They took a picnic basket with sandwiches and beer and had a jolly time getting some sun and splashing in the lake until they had to get back to meet the rest of us for dinner.

We ate dinner at a shi-shi haute-cuisine restaurant where reservations were required, even on a Tuesday evening. There was, however, live entertainment, and the dishes were truly unique. It was so different, it was almost like Alchemy. There are, of course, a number of great restaurants in Murphys that we’ve tried before, catering to a variety of tastes. There’s even one called Hillbillies.

One day, we all took a short drive and visited the Ironstone Winery, just a few miles from Murphys, to sample some of their special creations and buy a few bottles for later enjoyment. Of course, since I’m not a real oenophile; I was more interested in the winery’s old west museum, which also happens to exhibit the world’s largest crystalline leaf gold sample, weighing in at an impressive 44 pounds. You can view this amazing creation of mother nature in a special vault, inside the museum. I was told that since crystalline specimens are extremely rare, they have been sold for as much as $6,000.00 per ounce. You can understand why this chunk of yellow stuff is kept in a vault.

Following our visit, I went down to Murphys Creek and kicked some sand around, hoping to stumble on some golden nuggets; alas all I came up with is handful of plain old rocks. According to an article I read several years ago about gold mining in the Mother Lode, all the digging, panning, sluicing and hydraulic mining have only recovered about 10 to 15% of the gold in them, there hills.

Speaking of hills, there are caves in them there hills as well. There are several in the area, with guided tours that last for about an hour. There is the Moaning Cavern at Vallecito, the Sutter Gold Mine at Sutter Creek, The California Cavern at Mountain ranch, the Boyden Cavern at King’s Canyon National Park, the Mercer cavern at Murphys and the Black Chasm Cavern, which we explored, at Volcano. We took the guided tour along with about twenty curious tourists and were treated to a visual extravaganza. A series of sturdy stairs take you down and twist around formation-covered walls. You’ll see stalactites and helictites share space with flowstones, and even catch a glimpse of a bright, turquoise lake at the bottom of the chasm, from a platform suspended about 70 feet above. Everything is well lit, and the tour moves through at a safe and leisurely pace. There are a few spots where you have to actually duck to get through a tight opening or even lean back to negotiate the oddly-shaped passages. If you’re claustrophobic, this may be an experience you may wish to avoid. And, although I’m not too crazy about tight places myself, I truly I enjoyed the visual experience. And, I’ve got a few great shots to prove it.

My favorite side-trip of all was to the Calaveras Big Trees. That day, when half of our crew went boating, the rest of us went up to walk among the giants—giant Sequoias, that is. Until you’ve seen them up close, you wouldn’t believe that trees of this size truly exist. It’s like coming face to face with a dinosaur. The first time I ever saw a Sequoiadendron giganteum or Giant Sequoia, I couldn’t believe my eyes; that something that huge was possible. They grow to almost 300 feet tall. Some of the oldest, which would make them between 1800 and 2700 years old—yes, you read that right—are as wide at the base as a two-lane highway. There is even one that had a tunnel cut through it way back in the early 1900s, that you could drive a car through (although they no longer allow visitors to actually drive through).

We wandered around the gentle slope of the North Grove, where there are about a mile and a half of paths that allow you to check out about 150 of these giants, up close and at a leisurely pace. Since our time was a bit limited, we went for the easier route. But, my recommendation is, if you want to see more of these wonderful giants, spend at least four hours there and walk around the trails of both the North Grove and the South Grove, and check out the famous names some of these giants have been given. I would also recommend that you make the visit when the weather is a bit cooler, like in September, or next spring. We were there recently, when the temperature rarely dropped below one hundred degrees.

You can also camp and picnic at the Calaveras Big Trees State Park, which is located right on Highway 4, just a couple miles past Arnold, California—not named after the former governor.

I thought I’d throw in an extra bit of eye-opening information for you, these giant trees can only be found in one place on all of planet earth, and that is, on the slopes of the Sierra Nevada’s California side at elevations of between 5000 and 8000 feet. How about that?

You would think that after all the stuff we did, we never had a chance to relax, but some of us even got into the pool, and moi, I had time for a couple of naps. We took a couple of walks down Main street and checked out some of the little shops along the way, as well as Murphys Old Timers Museum and a couple of winery tasting rooms, right there on Main street. One day, we even stopped off at the Murphys Hotel for lunch. However, dressed like spelunkers in shorts and t-shirts, we decided to eat in the bar instead of the white table cloth dining room. We had some yummy sandwiches and cold beer. There’s nothing quite like ice cold beer on a very hot day!

This was one fun trip—one even made on just one tank of gas; no planes, no trains, just automobiles!

Meet S.I.R.

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YOU’RE RETIRED AND YOU’RE A GUY. WHAT DO YOU DO? I’LL TELL YOU

I thought I’d write about something more fun than taxes and border walls—something for old guys like me to do. I’m going to Reno in August for a big bowling tournament. Last year, we had 180 bowlers show up. I placed in a couple of the categories. In the B-category, I came in 1st in the singles competition and in the doubles, my partner and I placed second. We both came away with some moolah. So, it was not only fun, but turned out to be profitable as well. Before I get ahead of myself, let me tell you how I got to go bowling in Reno, in the first place.

Several years ago, I joined an organization that I didn’t even know existed, until my friend Ron invited me to be a guest at one of their luncheon get-togethers. This organization has but a couple of qualifying requirements: One, you have to be a guy, and two, you have to be able to attend the monthly luncheon meetings. You don’t have to pay any dues—only for a once-a-month luncheon, that you are required to attend at least six times a year. Since I joined, I haven’t missed one, because I enjoy getting together with my fellow retirees; my old buddies.

I know what you’re going to say; “What a boring bunch; getting together for lunch, once a month; big whoop-ti-doo!” I can tell you, the luncheons are just the beginning, and, they’re never boring. While we get to eat a great meal, served by a very pleasant and capable staff, at a great location, we get to listen to interesting presentations on varied topics of common interest. At theses luncheons, we also get reports from several activities chairmen, on upcoming events and results from previous events, like bowling, golfing, bocce leagues, and so on.

Did I mention that there were activities you can sign up for? I’m an avid bowler; not necessarily a great one, but, I do like to bowl. So, I joined our bowling league. Do you like golfing? If you do, you’ll love this group. You can golf your tee off. There are a number of other activities you can sign-up for and you only have to pay for the particular activity you want to participate in. And, just so that you won’t think that you always have to leave your sweetie at home, there are a number of events you can bring a date to that are organized to be enjoyed by couples.

We have a beautiful Christmas luncheon, a summer BBQ, a couple of Chicken and Bingo evenings (that would be a fried chicken dinner followed by bingo, until all the prizes are given away) as well as periodic dine outs to sample the cuisine of area restaurants.

Before I get too far ahead of myself with all the fun stuff, I had better introduce you to this great organization; my organization: SIR. That acronym stands for Sons In Retirement; hence the 2nd qualifier: you should be retired but you could get away with being partially-retired if you have the time to be active in the organization, but, as the first qualifier states, you have to be a son—in other words, a guy.

I bet you thought that the SIR acronym stood for some sort of snooty, shi-shi codeword for a bunch of swells. In SIR, we have doctors, lawyers and Italian chefs (you know, guys who create Italian dishes) as well as bottle washers. We’re all equal, and the tie that binds us is the fact that we have all worked for decades, and now we just want to get together and socialize a little and enjoy our time together.

SIR is like an oak tree—a giant oak tree—with many, many branches, all over this area. As a matter of fact, there are around a hundred and twenty branches. So, wherever you live in Northern California, you’ll find a local chapter of SIR. Actually, the branches in Northern California extend from Bakersfield to the Oregon border and from Lake Tahoe to the Pacific Ocean.

I belong to SIR Branch 19, a.k.a., John Muir Branch and we meet the first Thursday of the month for our Luncheon and speaker, at the Oakhurst Country Club. We couldn’t have picked a more beautiful spot for our meetings and our hosts take excellent care of us at our luncheons. As I mentioned earlier, we don’t just get together to eat, we have a number of great activities. At branch 19, here are some of the activities you could be participating in: golf, bowling, bocce, travel, bridge, poker, walking, hiking, computer technology, dining out, wine tasting, investing, and one of the latest activities started by yours truly and my buddy John Carl: DATE, which is an acronym for Discussing Ancient Technology & Engineering. We even throw an occasional UFO into the discussion or talk about who’ll get humans to Mars first; Elon Musk’s Space-X, NASA, or the Ruskies. And of course, we’re always interested in new ideas for activities, so if you have one, come and join us and tell us all about your idea.

From our branch’s official statement: “Membership is open to men, regardless of age, race, color or religion. We are an all-volunteer organization, so our members need to help out when called upon. SIR supports NO outside causes or interests. We prohibit discussions of politics and religion, soliciting or selling anything to any member.”

“Our member expectations are few. Have the free time, be a friendly, sociable guy, participate in our luncheons and activities, and introduce others to SIR, so they can join in the fun.”

The whole concept is very simple, really; “Improve the lives of our members through fun activities and events while making friends for life”. And, you can never have enough good friends.

In September, our new bowling season will be starting up at Clayton Valley Bowl, as well as our DATE program which takes place after Bowling on the second Wednesday of every month. So, if you’re a bowler, come and check out Branch 19 and meet the guys that make it all happen. It’s one decision you won’t regret. So, I might be seeing you at Clayton valley Bowl and our September luncheon at Oakhurst Country Club, and maybe even at our DATE meeting. At our September DATE meeting, we will view and discuss a film entitled TESLA, Visionary or Madman, which was originally shown on PBS.

As stated earlier, “Our mission is to improve the lives of our members, through fun activities and events while making friends for life”.
If you’d like to learn more about our branch and our activities, you can contact us at sirbranch19@gmail.com or call us 925.338.1996 or better yet, you can visit us on the web at www.sir19.org. For other branches in your area, look up Sons In Retirement or www.sirinc.org on the web.

Just remember: “In SIR, there are no strangers.”

Render unto Sacramento

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Nothing in life is certain but death and taxes, is a saying attributed to old Ben Franklin. Actually, taxes have been around for quite some time. The Sumerians collected taxes and kept meticulous records of these collections, right around 4000 BC. The Ancient Chinese collected taxes as well as the Ancient Egyptians and of course, the Romans.

So, why that title, you ask. It was my lame attempt at comparing Sacramento to Caesar’s Rome, because, Rome’s taxation philosophy was as convoluted as Sacramento’s is. In Rome, everything depended on which Caesar was in charge and how much money he needed to finance the building of roads and bridges, maintain his legions and insure the safety and security of the citizens. Caesar’s Rome and Sacramento are very much alike in the way revenue is generated. As in Rome, over two thousand years ago, Sacramento levies taxes on wealth, personal property, commerce, and whatever else the legislature deems necessary; such as vehicles of all sorts (chariots?).

The Governor of California and his legislative band of merry men have found clever ways to syphon tax dollars right out of our pockets, without much fanfare, so that most of us aren’t even aware of how our hard-earned dollars are slipping away.

Just recently, Sacramento came up with a new means of relieving us of more of our hard-earned dollars. It’s called the TIF or Transportation Improvement Fee. Did you notice how Sacramento didn’t call TIF a TAX, rather it’s called a fee. It should really have been called STIF because we’re getting stiffed. I had not heard of TIF before, so I had to look it up on the web. What this scheme does is, first, it raises our annual vehicle registration fees by $25 to $175 per year, depending on the value of our vehicle, and second, it increases the taxes on gasoline by twelve cents per gallon. I didn’t see this TIF coming. Some of you probably did.

I happened upon this clever, little scheme because my vehicle license renewal fee came due, just this past May (2018). To my surprise, as my vehicle had gotten older, instead of my renewal fee coming down, as it used to in the past, it started going up. I asked, “but why?” So, I did some more digging.

I drive a thirteen-year-old Ford Sport Trac (a cross between a Ford Explorer SUV and a pickup truck), which I happen to like but Ford no longer makes. Which is a story for another day. Anyway, here are some actual figures for you, so you can see what I’m talking about. In 2016, I paid $188 for my renewal. In 2017, my cost went up to $198; but I didn’t squawk.  However, this year (2018) it jumped up to $226. “What’s the big deal?” you might ask, “so, you pay 28 bucks more.” You’d be right. By itself, that $28 jump doesn’t mean much. It doesn’t even pay for a dinner for two at your local greasy spoon diner. However, if you add that to other changes in taxation, it may just start shedding some light on why your pocketbook seems to be getting thinner. And of course, if my Sport Trac lasts another ten years, I’ll be paying more for my renewal fee than the vehicle will be worth.

So that I can drive my Sport Trac, I have to fill the gas tank about twice a month, with around 20 gallons of fuel. We Californians are paying, we are told, around 71.9 cents per gallon in taxes; but with all that SCT (Sacramento Creative Taxation) we’re actually paying a lot more. Here is a breakdown of the taxes we pay on every gallon of gas we put in our vehicles: 39.5 cents (and possibly going up) for state excise tax, 30-42 cents for sales tax, depending on which community and county we live in, 10 cents for cap and trade fee (that’s a tax on top of a tax) and 18.4 cents federal excise tax, for a grand total of between 97.4 cents and $1.09 per gallon. So, if you notice your per gallon of gas cost go up, it’s not always because of the dastardly oil companies; sometimes it’s uncle Sacto.

To put it simply, even if we take the lowest stated total tax of 71.9 cents per gallon of gas and I buy 20 gallons, $14.38 go to the various taxes, each time I fill my gas tank. And, 39.5 cents per gallon of that is California’s excise tax. Total minimum taxes on my gas purchase for the year amounts to around $345. Of that, Sacramento gets $7.90 every time I fill-up. For the year, that makes another $189.60 in tax dollars that go to Sacramento.

What is all this extra revenue supposed to fund, you ask? The Governor promised that the 12 cent-raise in gasoline tax, would all go toward maintaining and repairing our decrepit roadways and bridges. If you’ve driven any distance lately, you must have come to the realization that our street and highway surfaces are in bad need of repair as it appears that not much has been spent for maintenance, for years. So where exactly is all that money going to?

The official word from the Governor’s office is that all this revenue, around $52 billion over a ten-year period, was to be used for the state’s deteriorating roads and bridges, and nothing else. However, according to some observers, about 30% of the new revenue is already being diverted by the party in charge, for pet projects in their own districts that have little or nothing to do with rehabilitating the roadways and bridges for our vehicles.

Apparently, Sacramento can use these funds acquired under SB1 ‘as long as they all deal in some form or other with transportation needs in general’ even though not directly with repairing roads and bridges. They’re pretty clever in Sacramento! Somehow, they always manage to misdirect our attention and explain away some of the backhanded ways in which our gas tax dollars are being misused.

Here’s a good example: CALPERS, or California’s Public Employee’s Retirement System, the nation’s largest public pension fund is in trouble, and has been for years. The governor was hoping to raise gas taxes by as much as a whopping 42% (remember, that is not 42 cents per gallon), to make up for all the funds lost due to poor management and impotent investment practices. Some of the current gas tax revenue, might be diverted into CALPERS to reconcile some of the losses.

According to some interpretations, SB1 supposedly allows some of the revenue to be used for the construction of the California High Speed Rail System which has been eating up cash faster than a California wildfire. Of course, this project has nothing to do with fixing roads or bridges. So, anyway you cut it, Sacramento can do pretty much what it wants with some of that gas tax money, as long as they have a clever way of disguising the explanation.

According to various sources, between 4 and 5 million Californians have left the Golden State in the past ten years, to be replaced by 3 to 4 million people from other states, Mexico and other foreign countries, for a net loss of about 1 million. That means, 1 million less taxpayers in California. Most of those residents have in fact left because of the skyrocketing cost of housing and living, in addition to excessive taxation. I have personally talked to several former Californians who have moved out of the Golden State, and are now living in Reno and Tahoe, Nevada. A most recent escapee from California we’ve known for a dozen years, couldn’t afford housing here and left for Arizona. A couple of others moved to Oregon of all places. They all cited soaring cost of housing and excessive taxes.

California now basically has three economic classes: 1-The Ultra-Rich, 2-the Working/Middle Class and 3-the Poor, or those in need of assistance, working or not. And guess what? 1 and 2 pay for all the assistance that 3 gets.

In addition to the gas tax, which is one of the highest in the nation, Californians now have the new, elevated vehicle renewal fees (not taxes?). Add to that, the California Income tax, with rates ranging from 1% for very low incomes, all the way to 13.3% for the Ultra-Rich, one of the highest sales taxes in the nation at 7.25%, with additional local taxes added (Sales tax in Concord = 8.750, Danville = 8.250). Finally, we have property tax. The rate happens to be one of the lowest in the country, with an average of 0.74%. However, due to soaring home prices, it has turned into quite a hefty chunk of change out of our pockets, twice a year.

Adding it all up you can see that California is in fact hitting us tax-wise from all sides. Isn’t it interesting that somebody came up with a Proposition 69 on the June ballot, to ensure that the money you and I approve for transportation projects, will really, truly be used for transportation projects only and will not be used as some of slush fund to be spent by Sacramento politicians on their pet projects? You probably don’t even want to know how much money Sacramento spends on the 3 million illegal emigrants and their 1.1 million American born children; which also happens to come out of our pockets.

And before I forget, driving along highway 24 and merging to I-680, I saw the signs indicating where the “Toll Lane” begins. That’s what I had forgotten: we pay tolls, when we cross any of the bridges across the San Francisco Bay, and the latest Sacramento invention, Toll Lanes. We’ve been paying toll on the bridges since they were built. Some of you might not even remember a quarter toll, to cross the Bay Bridge; yes, twenty-five cents. The new toll on the very same bridge is now $6.00, 5:00 am to 10:00 am and 3:00 pm to 7:00 pm, $5.00 on weekends and $4.00 at other hours. The Bay Area Toll Authority Oversight Committee or BATAOC, unanimously voted to put on the June ballot a raise in tolls to $9.00 for the Bay Bridge and $8.00 for all other bridges. Isn’t it interesting how this tax is called a TOLL. There you go again Sacramento; playing with words! If you work in the city, I’m sure it will add a bit to your driving costs. But hey, they’ve made it easy for us. It’s called FasTrak and, you can now use it in the Toll Lanes. And guess what? Rome had toll roads. Unfortunately for Caesar, they didn’t have FasTrak.

Please try to remember, this is just my opinion: we are paying way too much in taxes, fees and whatever else you want to call it, and Sacramento politicians are just too carefree with where and how, they spend it. Now, if in your opinion, we are not paying enough in taxes, bless your heart, you may voluntarily contribute to Rome’s folly… pardon me, Sacramento’s folly to your heart’s content. As far as I’m concerned, the Golden State is fast losing her luster, thanks to Sacramento greed and mismanagement. I just hope that California doesn’t go under, like Rome and become just another sorry state.

 

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