I Found Her Purse

(When I read the first draft of this story to my best editor, my wife Dena.. it disturbed her.  It’s the story of someone who made the news for a day, then was gone, and forgotten but to those responsible for handling her remains.  She also told me sometimes she wonders what kind of person I would have been, had I not witnessed and reported stories like this, and even more ghastly results of homicidal minds. I just don’t know. -df)

I found her purse.   

The woman was dead.  

I was already out of the station on another news assignment. I had fed in some sound clips, or an on-scene report from a story downtown that could be used in newscasts until I got back in the station.  The technology of the day did not allow studio quality sound to be transmitted back to the station.   The Internet was still an idea in some scientists brain.  So, we would come back in, process and write out stories, and turn them in to the anchor, complete with a four page carbon copy script.

Our news cars were equipped with two police scanners.   One was dedicated to all of the City of Atlanta’s emergency frequencies.  There were six “zones” of police operations to listen to, and one Atlanta Fire Bureau Frequency.   The second scanner was used to mainly listen to Dekalb County police and fire dispatch, and a few other counties in the metro Atlanta. 

I heard the call where police were sent to a location in east Atlanta.   There was a report of a woman’s body that had been found outside an apartment building. 

Officers found the woman’s nude body alongside a chain link fence adjacent to the two-story apartment building.   Homicide detectives quickly arrived.   This was the time before yellow crime scene tape.  Now, police quickly seal crime scene tape around an area, and nobody but officers are let in, or out.   Then, if we were extremely careful not to disturb anything, detectives would tolerate us standing close.  Courtesy and respect goes a long way in those circumstances.   Investigators knew that, I would cooperate with them, and if there was a clue or some evidence they needed to withhold, I would go along with it.   Often, they were details that only the killer, or killers would kniow,   and that would be of great value to homicide squad detectives as they interviewed suspects.

The woman had been there for a while- at least overnight. I didn’t pay much attention to the field exam of the remains.   There’s nothing to be gained for your news story by being close to that kind of thing.   The body can’t talk to anyone except to detectives looking at evidence.   Only the detectives and their bosses would talk “on the record”.  While I was waiting on someone to tell me what I already knew…that a woman’s nude body had been found in a vacant lot … and maybe a few other bits of information, I decided to poke around.  There was high grass and weeds along the chain link fence line.   

About 75 or a hundred feet away, I found a purse.   I remember to this day that it was a medium brown, medium sized pocketbook.   On the arm or in the hands of a woman you might see on the street… you wouldn’t notice it.  But it stood out there is the weeds.   Some other stuff was nearby…and looked like it had been thrown out as someone rifled the purse\. But I knew not to touch anything, and to watch where I walked.  But instead of walking away from the potential evidence, I hollered for an officer to come look at my discovery. 

Turns out, it was as I suspected, the victim’s purse. 

She was not a prominent citizen, or a media celebrity.   No doubt, the story of her death would be run for a few hours, then start sliding down the stack of stories until it disappeared.  I know officers would have eventually found the purse.  They always search a pretty wide radius around a crime scene, and yellow tape keeps shuffling feet, and sensational minds from mucking up the investigation.

And she was identified.    Police had a name to attach to the person left dead in the indignity and insult of being left naked, dead for anyone to sees until someone got there with a sheet to reclaim some reverence to the dead. 

A while later, I continued my 20-block trip back to WSB.   But that story stayed with me.  Maybe it was because I found some pieces of evidence  that probably would have been found anyway.  
What I did ponder for a while, was the question of what happens to someone to make them so able to leave a person naked and dead along a fence line.. 

The last time I checked on the story, the Medical Examiner was working to confirm her identity, and was searching for next-of-kin.    But the M.E. investigator told me that she would likely be buried in a pauper’s grave provided by Fulton County.  

Once upon a time, she was somebody’s baby, created in God’s image.  I wonder what happened between that time, and the day her body was found in those weeds.   

I never found out. 

Nobody Said He Couldn’t

This is a rough draft of one of the chapters in the book I’m writing. It hasn’t been seen by an editer…editor…yet.

Even a blind hog will run up on an acorn once-in-a-while.   I can remember two times when that statement rang true in the newsroom, and one time when a dedicated broadcast engineer was responsible for getting critical information to a hurting community.

WSB had a large newsroom.  Today, the size of that newsroom would be unheard of.   Typically, there would be a couple of early morning anchor/reporters, a mid-day anchor, and two, or three street/reporters who could work later hours, and a night-time anchor who would host “Thousandaire News” brought to by one of Georgia’s great financial institutions. We also had two or three newsroom assistants, who helped produce the newscasts. It was a 24/7 operation, every day of the week, including holidays. 

It was the Friday before Memorial Day, 1979…. About the middle of the day.   WSB Radio had several teletype machines, AP and UPI wire services with regular news updates, the “B” wires from both agencies… services that brought feature stories we used a jumping off stories for our own coverage and expanded news stories.   There was a teletype machine for the National Weather Service, and a teletype machine that handled dispatches for a syndicated newsroom, where clients could get their personal dispatches out to the public. 

That Friday afternoon, an American Airlines DC-10 started its takeoff roll from O’Hare National Airport.   It flew for about 13 seconds.    One of the engines on the DC-10 fell off.   It had been improperly slid back into the rack that held an engine on one of the wings. The plane got airborne…one wing tipped toward the sky…. and the big plane smacked the ground like a lawn dart.  

Newsman Richard Warner and I had seen the bulletin, and gone on-the-air with the first few details of the crash.   I also made sure the on-the-air show host knew about the crash.  In Atlanta’s busy aviation community there were standing orders at WSB, that in the event of an air crash making headlines, advertisements for some of the airlines would cease.  We kept a record of the number of the missed commercials, so “make good” spots could be scheduled.  

Somehow, I heard that the plane crashed into a mobile home park…namely, the Sunset Mobile Home Park.  This was long before internet information and digital research.   Instead, we kept telephone directories from the major cities in America, and kept large Rolodexes of contacts.  

After a few minutes, I got the number of the office at the mobile home park.   It was a long shot, but I dialed the number.  And one of the park’s managers came to the phone.  The man was obviously shaken from what he had just witnessed, but after I cleared some confusion about just who I was, and what I was asking, he agreed to record a brief interview.   The mobile home park manager kept his composure, and he described a hellish scene where there were bodies and pieces of airplane, all in flames.  He told us that he saw no survivors, and did not believe anyone could have survived the fireball.  After all, the plane had just taken off and was fueled-up. 

After the interview, I snatched the reel-to-reel tape off of the machine, and dashed into the edit booth.   One quick soundbite, then another, and another went on-the-air as we pulled pieces of the tape.  WSB was a national network affiliate, and we would often file stories we had enterprised.  From President Carter and his family to the Centers For Disease Control, to stories about major national politicians, we would send the stories to the network.  In return, reporters got a small talent fee.   So, we dutifully called the network in New York…. You’ll have to imagine the puzzlement at the network desk- Here was s station in Atlanta, bringing eyewitness interview information from Atlanta.  We understood their reluctance to accept our offer of sound…after all, it did sound a little off…an Atlanta station covering a Chicago story.    We had our fish to fry, so we went on with our business of providing news to Atlanta.   Later that day, the network called…editors had remembered our phone call, and now realized it was legit. 

Sometimes, we worked under instructions from radio geniuses who forgot more about the radio business than remembered it.   Their ideas propelled us into performance that could be described as doing excellence.  The bar was set very high, but not so high to make completing our assignment.   I always think of the word “excellence”

In 1977, I was working the un-enviable anchor schedule that had hourly newscasts from early Sunday morning into the afternoon.   Outside of crime stories and breaking news of fires and such, it was a very calm shift.   I’d often wrack my brain trying to think of someone to call and interview, or some story I could develop. 

Burt Lance was President Carter’s head of The Office Of Management And Budget.   But the director had resigned when a money scandal erupted.   Director Lance was a native of Gainesville, and he and his family lived in Atlanta.  I was reading the newspaper and teletype, scanning for ideas, and I found the OMB story had taken a new twist.   Nobody told me that you couldn’t call a member of The President’s staff on a Sunday morning.  I called the church the Lance family attended, to see what time the church usually let out…not the start, but the finish time.  Somehow the radio station had saved the Lance phone number in our Rolidex. For those of you who are too young to know what a Rolidex is, it’s a crank that turns small cards, in alphabetical order.   In our newsroom, we often put notes about the person’s address, or how to ask for them.   Eventually, Mr. Lance answered the phone.  He had just arrived home from church, and yes..he would answer questions about the new developments.   He was a very gracious gentleman, and I can’t help but think our station’s reputation for fairness helped him make the decision to be recorded without fear of some “gotcha” piece being done on him.   I didn’t tell Bert Lance, but I had circled pieces of the teletype copy and newspaper, to give me ideas of what I should ask.   
If I had been assigned that story, I would have been too intimidate to try it. 
It should be noted that later, Bert Lance was cleared of all allegations.  he would be cleared of all allegations. 

Most talk radio programs operate with a telephone screener or producer, and a host.   You can throw in three or four more people if you want to conjure up a big production team.   But two people can handle a talk show easily.   But one?   How could you screen your calls, and also take them on the air.   You couldn’t do that… it was impossible.  The mechanics alone were daunting.   But nobody told David Paul. 

David Paul had worked at a small radio station.   He wanted his own talk show on WSB Radio.   And it would be a serious new kind of format.   David Paul was a kind of shock-jock.   And he had some looney topics that brought out the bizarre in people.  I remember once, Paul was asking for anybody listening while taking a bath to call the station.   And folks did call… and splash their water and describe their bath tubs and soap.  The station hired him, but there was no budget for a control board operator/producer.   David did it all by himself.   I don’t think I ever told him that once I was walking down the corridor of the station, and I came across the program director at the same corner.   I, frankly, had my reservations that the show would be on very long.   But we stood and talked, and turned up the volume knob on the hallway speaker that brought the on-air signal to the hallway.  After watching for a minute, I marveled at how the young guy was screening his own calls during the commercial breaks.  I asked the boss how in the world could this guy manage all of that?  His reply was simple, and stuck with me. “Nobody told him he can’t.”

Maybe we do better, accomplish more, and see new ways of accomplishing things, when nobody says you can’t.   If I had to pick one broadcaster as the best example of that, it would not be someone on-the-air, it would be the former WIVK chief engineer Tim Berry.   

Here’s an example of Tim’s resourcefulness in helping us get the news out of a remote area…even after we were told several times that our goal was impossible.   A tornado had ripped through Morgan County.   It tore up the small community of Mossy Grove…then skipped over to Petros, home of the old and infamous Tennesseee State Prison.    The radio station that provided the area’s local news had been hit, and was off-the-air.   We found out people were listening to our WIVK signal, and our WOKI.  We were their source of information.  In the several early hours, I relied on sketchy cell phone service to file my reports, often simply holding the telephone up to the speaker of the Marantz tape recorder to bring voices from the scene of the deadly calamity. 

There was to be a news briefing in Petros the next morning.  And we expected a lot of information from state and local officials.   They were to talk about everything from Federal emergency money, to what the county planned to do with mountains of debris.   It was important details the community needed.   But the site of the tornado, and the briefing… was down in deep valleys and hollers.   Since our VHF radio transmitters worked on a straight line principle, there was no way we could ‘hit’ any of our receiving towers.  

Nobody told Tim that it was impossible.   We had a little bit of lead time in which to get the live equipment set.   And he had a plan.    From the site of the briefing, we would send the signal to Roosevelt Mountain nearby, and in Morgan County.  Roosevelt  mountain had a radio link that was line-of-sight with a receiver all the way in Sevier County on Bluff Mountain.   From there, the signal was bounced to one of our local towers in the Papermill Road area of Knoxville, and from there…to the radio station.  Patches had to be made ….where operators at the station had to physically place jumper cables into phone jacks to send the live signal to both stations simultaneously.   I received a Society of Professional Journalists Green Eyeshade Award for my work over three days. And I will always say my friend, Tim earned a large piece of those honors. To this day, it was one of the most incredible organizational feats I’ve seen in radio.  – Because nobody told him he couldn’t do it. 

I like to pass along stories where people have done crazy things to get their jobs done, from downed transmission towers, to working under horrible winter weather.  I was once the last news reporter on Georgia’s Tybee Island before it was closed because of an imminent hurricane landfall.   It wasn’t a glory “stand in the wind and report” assignment, it was a job to see what was happening, and describe as clear as I could see, what was happening.  

When I speak to young people, I like to relate stories like these.  I think they have a little more currency to change their mindset, rather than to just say “You can do anything you put your mind to.”
Fact of the matter is, you can do anything you put your mind to, and even think up a few things that nobody mentioned you coud not accomplish. 

The Guy After The Guy Who Just Got Fired

I’ve seen more firings than a boiler repairman.

Some of them were the end of a protracted season of disappointment in performance at the radio and TV stations where I worked. Others were just impulsive, dunderheaded moves by egotistical or inept managers. Some dismissals were needed, and others were long overdue. Broadcasting shares those traits with other industries. But that is where the similarity stops.

People who make their living on the television or radio live on a constant razor’s edge. To be sure, a small percentage of them have no-cut, long term contracts. Other broadcasters have contracts that mainly favor their employers, and are famous for non-compete clauses that prevent them from moving across town to another station, even when they are fired.

I’ve seen some strange departures. One reporter let go from his job got so angry that he tied his radio station blazer in knots, and threw it at me before he marched out the door, cursing. And that was a ‘for cause’ dismissal. Other workers were shame-marched out of the station, often with a box of their belongings. There were other dismissals where the worker was asked to turn in their id badge and keys, and told someone would go through their desk and ship them their personal property.

One time, I was doing traffic reports for an FM station, and suddenly the formats changed. At first, I thought maybe we were getting some interference from a station in another town. I tried calling the hot line, and nobody answered. I had to get back to the station before anybody would tell me what was going on. The format change happened when the manager walked into the studio with a new stack of cd’s. Surprise doesn’t really describe being on the air with a station one minute, and hearing an entirely different and unfamiliar station the next. Personnel changes happened, but fortunately, I dodged a career land mine because I had two other stations where I was on-the-air, and eventually was added back to the on-air staff at the changed station.

I think the most notorious firings I witnessed happened twice in my career.
My boss came to me early in the morning, and instructed me to quietly prepare a 9:00am newscast, and tell no-one. I did what I was told. I walked into the news announce booth at 8:55. Both times, when I came out of the booth at 9:07, the anchor scheduled to do that newscast had been let-go and led out of the building by security. One morning, just about the entire morning crew left the building.

That station had portrait photos of the on-the-air staff on the hallway walls. They were secured to the wall on velcro strips, so the photo would come down as the dismissed worker left. To the listener, those on-air people disappeared as if they were victims of an alien abduction.

That puts the guy-after-the-guy, or lady…. in a very strange position. They’re often warned not to mention their predecessor, and do not take any calls on the air that might result in the “what happened to” question being asked. I developed a theory, and I believe it has been verified time and time again. You don’t want to replace the lead-off batter. There are two reasons:

First, the management might hold you to an unrealistic set of goals, not based on you, but based on the perceived substandard performance of the person who had the job before you. There can be resentment, even if the audience didn’t like the personality…. They might be an idiot but they are … “my.. idiot.” The next on-air crew has an uphill battle to create a relationship and familiarity with the listener.   Managers might not be patient.   This is why I always counsel young people entering the industry to invest in inflatable furniture.

Morning show personalities come and go. When they go, folks are deprived of stability and, I believe, a kind of time-pacing where their audience knows what happens when, and what they should be doing in their morning routine, when they hear a particular segment on the radio.

Surely, University of Tennessee head coach Jeremy Pruitt had some idea that he was on the way out. The sound of un-reeling packing tape making moving boxes outside his office… maybe the business off declined to print any new business cards… or other signs particular to the athletic coaching industry. He and nine other staff members are on the way out at UT. And it smells to me like a housecleaning before the information leaks out on some serious NCAA violations, and cover-ups. But I’ll leave the reporting and commentary to my friend Jimmy Hyams on The Sports Animal 99.1 FM.

Athletic Director Philip Fulmer is retiring.. either caught up in the meat grinder of staff changes , or honestly having enough of work, and looking to spend some time with his family and friends. (I would tell him retirement is highly under-rated.)

In the coaching rotisserie that is The University Of Tennessee, the next person up will have an even harder job trying to re-build the image and athletic record.

They’ll be the guy,
after the guy, after the guy,
after the guy, after the guy.

Living Scared In A Pandemic

In only a few days, the number of deaths from the coronavirus pandemic will reach 400,000. More people have already died as a result of coronavirus than in any other pandemic in The United States, with the only exception being the ghastly 1918 influenza pandemic.

As I mark the grin milestones, I often hear “Yeah but, “Where are the flu numbers?” It’s been widely reported that because of masking, hand washing, and social distancing, the flu numbers are down significantly this year.

I’m waiting for my place in line, waiting on some semblance of protection from disease for the second time in my life. When I was a little boy, there was a girl who lived a couple of blocks away from my home on Ashland Avenue in Burlington. She could only walk with large leg braces and those crutches that had handles and metal bands for her arms. She was a survivor of polio. Other children who were ravaged by the disease could only survive in what was called an “iron lung”… only their neck and head sticking out of a machine that allowed them to live. Others died. Even though parents spoke about polio in hushed voices, we knew the score. Nobody knew of a way to prevent polio.

Then, the vaccines came. There were injections, and doses placed on sugar cubes. They were called the Salk, and the Sabin vaccines. And my parents made certain I was vaccinated pronto. The PTA organized vaccination clinics for the entire community at public schools. Doctors offices also had the vaccine.

There were lines, but not the thousand-car queues we are now experiencing. Announcement of available vaccine results in the website registration to open and close inside a half-hour. Recently, Knox County Health Department had to turn many people away from a vaccination site. They ran out of vaccine.

Rewind a few weeks, and note that the Administration’s goal was 21 million vaccinations by 2021. It was called Operation Warp Speed. That name will likely be derided in history as a cruel joke. HHS Secretary Azar told a reporter today the reason the number of vaccinations fell abysmally short of the goal, was the late delivery of the vaccine. That might be part of it, but I believe the largest part of the problem is the hodgepodge fruit salad of state policies on who is vaccinated when, and how.

We can only hope for a course correction when the Biden Administration takes over the fight against covid-19. But I don’t hold a lot of hope for a major improvement anytime soon. That’s because we learned this weekend that the government is out of vaccine. There are no reserve doses. It’s like needing an overcoat right now, only to find the wool used to make the coat is on back order.

Operation Warp Speed developed a covid vaccine in an unheard of short amount of time. I believe bureaucratic blundering and disorganization in the distribution chain led to expectations that could never be met. I don’t believe many of us ever thought we would reach a time where family members would drop off loved ones at the emergency room door, and have to leave them…alone…and sometimes to die.

So now, we wait on our turn. And me mourn those who could not survive the virus and its myriad complications. This time, it’s not the schoolgirl down the street, it’s the 65 plus neighbor who might be fighting for her life, on a ventilator, and away from any family contact.

You might have heard my story before, that I spent five days on a ventilator, suffering from acute respiratory failure following surgery, and as a result… had several years dealing with the way it left my lungs…and my mind.

There’s no doubt that the virus has its origins in China. How it got to The United States is a question for another day. Right now, I should be sufficient to worry about how governors, mayors, and health administrators deal with vaccinations in an orderly manner. Hospitals are doing what they can. Meanwhile, please wear a mask, (I often wear two masks, a cloth mask over my trusty N-95, keep your hands washed, and limit where you go.

My wife and I are relatively hermits. I pray to be spared from covid, and ask God to protect me and my family, and to heal others. I believe God can heal in an instant, and He also gave me the reasoning power to protect myself as much as I can.

The heartbreaking stories seem never-ending. I hope you’re working hard to keep from adding to the manuscript of this pandemic.

Handicapping The Possibility Of A Second Civil War

I was clicking around the Internet this afternoon, and came upon a post written by Damon Linker for “The Week”. Linker says he has been very reluctant in the past to comment about the possibility of a Second American Civil War, but the insurrection at The Capitol prompted him to outline the possibilities.

“How great is the risk of America going completely off the rails in the short-to-medium term? I wouldn’t want to bet big money on it. But the odds are improving all the time.”

-Damon Linker- “The Week”

I think, no matter your political persuasion, you should be worried. In his article, Linker outlines the types of civil wars, from the one we had in The United States, and many other conflicts. But he leaves out what I believe could be the fuse meant to ignite America into open civil strife- anarchists. They come in many flavors. Some want to hasten the breakdown of civil society so as to start a race war. There are others who just want to tear apart society in general.

You can see some of them in the videos of the insurrection at The Capitol. They are the ones who come ready for battle, willing to kill or be killed. I have no doubt in my own mind that some of the “anti” groups we have seen fomenting violence in other cities were represented in the mob that stormed into The Capitol. It was a grand adventure for them to insert themselves into the riot, and urge others on. I believe, as arrests mount, we will have proof of that opinion.

Does it not seem strange to you that we are even talking about a possible civil war, or open violence? It does to me. In my life, I have witnessed the assassination of one President, at least three attempts on other Presidents, and the resignation of another. There was a collective feeling of dread with each of those events.

In the previous century, anarchists carried out a successful attack on Wall Street, by detonating a buckboard loaded with dynamite on Wall Street. Two men were executed in connection with it, while others maintained their innocence. I’ll not argue the case here, but leave you with evidence that there have been people hell bent on destroying our democratic republic for a long time.

Our nation’s seat of government is about to be flooded with four times the number of troops in Afghanistan and Iraq combined. Large fences have been erected, even barbed wire place in some areas. We are fortifying our Capitol much like some two-bit, unstable government might have to do when power changes. And I have no doubt those images will be heavily used by our foreign enemies, exploited in propaganda, from videos to posters. Remember- they still chant “Death to America.” in some places.

I hope we can keep from sliding into cults of violence on both sides. The precious principles of civil order are at stake. And that order defines how we enjoy all of our additional, wonderful, freedoms.


The eyes have it.
The eyes of the people who stormed The Capitol in a full-on riot were wide and frenzied. They were going after anything and everything in the building. Lawmakers were rightfully scared for their life. Rightfully so.

From my experience as a reporter, and based on what I saw… the insurrectionists were separated into a couple of groups. First, there were folks who were whipped into riotous behavior. They came to march, holler, and demand a different outcome to our Presidential election. They were the ones with wide, searching, random eyes. Their actions were no less criminal than what the other eyes belied.

The other eyes were windows into the planning, tactics, and communications surrounding the riot. They were the organizers, an amalgam of white supremacists, conspiracy believers, those who are trying to hasten a second civil war, and anarchists. Police say they used sophisticated communication systems- something we have seen in other riots. They helped the leaders of the insurrection shape the spear that pierced the Capitol.

One rioter is seen trying to climb through the window into one of the legislative chambers. She falls backwards, mortally wounded by a law officer. Two Capitol Police officers were hurt. Two more people died of medical emergencies. And no telling how many others had serious injury.

There appeared to be thousands at the Capitol, but we need to remember that a vast number of people who showed up at the rally, left in peace. They hollered, clapped, and shouted – but kept what they did within the scope of the law. It was their right … from the First Amendment.

Now, there are more troops in Washington than there are in Afghanistan and Iraq. Read that sentence again. It’s scary. For the first time since The Civil War, National Guard members are inside The Capitol, guarding its safety, and the safety of people who work inside. These folks are your neighbor, your grocer, small business owner, teacher, and first responder.

All that in mind, and I ask you this-
Who will you sit with in church this weekend?
Not everybody goes to church, of course. But for those who do, how do we decide who sits where. Are pews roped off with signs that say “Trump Supporters Only”, or ” Voted for Biden? Sit in this row.”
Moreover, does Almighty God care? As a Christian, I worship a Savior who is named “The Prince Of Peace”, among other things. The empty Cross is all I need to find my way through this world, and although I don’t deserve it, Salvation is mine (and can be yours, too) no matter how I vote.

I can’t see how actions inside The Capitol could do anything but disappoint The Almighty. Of course, there was that time when Christ showed a coin with Ceasar’s image on it. He said there was government, and it should have its due… but showed witnesses there was a better way.

And this weekend, thousands upon thousands will gather. And, as we sit with social distancing and recite our Canons and prayers, we will sit together. Because that’s the way we are taught that its intended to be.

Peace. Sometimes very elusive, but still a noble goal


I’m over being criticized for posting factual information on coronavirus. I’ve really tried to make sure each story in which I provide a link is accurate. School, meeting, public event closures and changes are met with complaints that they are not necessary. Anecdotal evidence of covid cases or the impact of them are often criticized as disinformation from a liberal-leaning media. Most disturbing is the basic lack of respect indicated by people who steadfastly refuse to wear a mask…such a simple, cheap, and effective way to keep fine molecules from you…getting to the next person.Some brief explanations are in order:This is not a media cabal to help take over the nation. Covid is about to take over, and the health professionals we have hired to protect us, are doing their best. There might be blunders, and indications we hired the wrong people, but they are trying. Unfortunately, in this battle there are no participation rules. On the media- I am afraid most networks have liberal leaning management, producers, and editors. Some more than others. I believe the truth is somewhere between what the -commentators- on CNN say, and the -commenators- on Fox News have to say. Please notice I said commentators…show hosts who have an agenda and set out to prove it. We must look at those programs for what they are. So far as hard news is concerned, you have to learn the objective portions of a correspondent’s report. Take care to note facts, times, dates, and the comments of those interviewed. Too often, reporters will pick someone to interview …and raise the verity of their comments to the level of some expert on the topic being reported on. Yes, this takes work, but soon anyone can develop a sense of credibility when persons of standing in their field are interviewed, facts are correctly presented, and … a sense of when a news story just doesn’t ‘smell right’.I’ve tried to report on the covid virus without somehow twisting it into a political, anti Trump screed each time. And, according to some of you, I missed the mark. So, because I am very tired of having my objectivity called into question over basic facts on covid, and because some readers believe I am part of a weird cabal promoting something-or-other that has to do with a world-wide conspiracy, and because folks bull headedly insist I’m printing disinformation….You’re on your own. Do your own research. And I will give in. Since even the number of the sick can be disputed…I’ll only report the dead. I still think somebody needs to speak for them.

It’s Probably Worse Than We Think

Several years ago, I had the privilege of attending the FBI Citizens Academy. The classes expanded my knowledge of the agency, and some of the challenges our government faces in the effort to keep our secrets.. secret.
One class met at the Oak Ridge National Labs, in the building that houses one of the fastest computers in the world. Security was very tight. We were not permitted to drive onto the property- agents took us in shuttle vehicles. We were on a list of approved visitors, and had to show credentials to be able to enter the site. Obviously, no cameras or recorders, no usb sticks.. no nothing.
The computer was amazing. We met in a room with a screen the size of the side of my house… and it had striking detail. On the screen was an aerial photo of The Presidential Innaguration. And on that huge screen, you could easily see individual people…in a photo that ran the length of the Mall.
Later, there were speakers who briefed us on the scope of the FBI mission at Oak RIdge. The number of agents is classified. Many of the assignments are secret. But, in the light of the alleged Russian hacking of several American computer networks, I figured I would try to give you some idea of the extent our enemies work to compromise our military and industrial secrets. I’m going to be as general as I can, to protect anything that remains confidential in the ruse.
FIrst, China has long employed a factory like building in which scores of computer experts work night and day to exploit American soft spots in cyber security. But sometimes, it only takes human frailty to get inside.
We were shown transcripts of an email conversation between an operative in China ( or an effort by several assigned to the same case).
The target was a scientist in Oak Ridge, who worked on nuclear research and development.
The attacker was a “female”.
One day, the Oak Ridge expert received an e-mail… asking if it was the e-mail of the professor who published a paper titled ” [name not released]”. “Why yes’, came the answer … and the game was on.
Over a long period of time, the espionage continued, with messages of flattery and ingratiating statements. And conversation between the two apparently grew somewhat intimate.
Investigators believe the professor might have actually been talking to several people on the other end of the e-mail line. Possibly a supervisor or maybe a psychological operations officer advising them on how to lure their quarry.
Eventually, the nuclear professor’s sense of secrecy and mission completely collapsed, and he agreed to take a trip to China to meet his new soulmate.
That is when the FBI decided to intervene. Nobody could say what might have happened to the nuclear expert had he made the trip to China.
But his life collapsed in a shambles. He had a family here. ANd he lost his credentials and clearance to work at any national security job.
It was easy, and played on the most common currency in the world… the ego.
That’s a real story. I saw the transcript.
For a while, I worked as a subcontractor at Lockheed Corporation at Y-12. We were warned about using the computer, that there were tracking programs operating in real time, and investigators would often check the individual computers on a random basis, overnight. We were not told how the FBI was made wise to the effort to lure the expert to China.
That was several years ago. Technology changes every week, so I would imagine there are more sophisticated attacks mounted every day, plus the age-old Mata Hari lure.
My story is an account of what happened above ground. I would imagine the cyber attacks on the Internet and other avenues are legion. And if our government is telling us that it’s bad… it is probably worse.
As if 2020 didn’t have enough to worry us into the New Year.

A matter of courtesy and caution..

Please put me…on the bottom of your prayer list.
I have managed to dodge several doctor appointments by scheduling tele-visits, and organizing blood draws into one location.
But I can’t dodge Thursday morning’s appointment with the orthopedic surgeon.
I collapsed September 20th, and managed to cause a compound fracture of both lower left leg bones. I see the surgeon who screwed a rod to my knee and ankle. (I think this is my scheduled oil change and alignment appointment.)
The first month was easy- the rehab facility had me under quarantine, and I never left the room.
After that, it was home, and staying there. My three kids are extremely protectful. Kroger and Food City curbside has kept The Missus at a distance from crowds.
Before I fell, from March to
September 20th, I was careful. Now, with Tennessee ranking in the top three Covid numbers, I’m even more concerned and careful.
If you scroll through the Facebook
Pages, it won’t take long to find someone asking for prayer for a
loved one who is either fighting, or sadly succumbed to Covid. I’m
doing what I can to try and keep out of those two categories.
Here are some recommendations-
Be respectful of others. Wearing a mask has become a common courtesy to others.
Manage your exposure, mitigate your risks.
Wash your hands.
And, I know it’s the party season, but consider other ways to celebrate.
Sadly, the same goes for religious gatherings.
To some, those precautions might sound unreasonable, or even some kind of violation of civil rights. It’s really a matter of civil responsibility. It is not a political
act. This stuff doesn’t care who you are
I’m in a protected species. Older. Diabetic. Cancer survivor. Recent serious illness or injury.
I’m lucky to have family members who are healthy and helpful.
And I’m cautious….careful… and asking for your prayers, and your help.

a worrisome time

The other day, I posted on my Facebook page, an idea that it might be good if all of us set aside politics for five minutes, and prayed for our nation. It didn’t take long. The third comment down turned to politics, and the race was on. God was ushered to the back of the church, while a slew of comments argued Trump versus Biden. That worries me.

I remember some events in our history that unified our nation … for a minute or two. The most recent was the attacks on The Word Trade Center, and The Pentagon, and the crash of an airliner in Pennsylvania when hostages fought back.

The Kennedy Assassination was a time when the whole country stopped, watched, and mourned the death of our President. You get that? I said –our president. I have received many comments that indicate Joe Biden is not your president. After a slew of failed lawsuits, and certification of the vote by The Electoral College, it’s becoming more and more apparent that Joe Biden -is- your President-elect.

One person on my FB page posted a logo that proclaimed “Impeach Joe Biden”. He’s not even in office yet!

I’m afraid that our nation, our democratic republic is about to be strained beyond recovery. I have watched our nation as political upheaval has waxed and waned. We need times when the rhetoric calms, the fingers that have been pointed join the rest of that hand in work to make our nation strong, a handshake or two across the aisle to advance our nation, and a finger on the clasped or open hands of prayer.

It is indeed a worrisome time.

Over, and over, I see desperate requests for thoughts and prayers for loved ones who are very sick, possibly dying of COVID-19 Virus, yet I also see posts denying the seriousness of the pandemic. People defy recommendations to wear a mask… a simple act that prevents your germs from flying across the air to another person’s face. If nothing else…even if you don’t believe a mask helps, why is it such an imposition on your Constitutional rights to wear one as courtesy to the rest of the people around you? I simply do not understand the denial of the seriousness of the pandemic, when as many people are dying in one day, that died in the attack on The World Trade Center and Pentagon.

I have described my experience … five days on a ventilator, following surgery and acute respiratory failure. It was horrifying. I have dealt with PTSD around hospitals and clinics since that surgery in 2008. I’ve had a lot of life experience in scary things, but being on a ventilator is far ahead as the number one experience. Over the past twelve years, the trouble has diminished, but there are times when that experience floods back into my mind. It’s not something you want for yourself, or for anybody you care about. I wear a mask for me and for you. And, with the exception of a few trips to the store, and thirty-one days in a rehab center dealing with a broken leg, I have stayed inside this house. I like to go places, I like to drive my car, but I also like to live. As my dad once said “I’m not afraid to die, but if they’re making up a load today, I would just as soon not go.”

The famous founder of a huge restaurant chain once said the most important hamburger you buy, is the next one. You might transfer that thought to the most important crisis we face, is the next challenge to our democracy. Our enemies, and we do have enemies, are watching and taking note of how we deal with crisis. They .. not might… but will exploit any weak spots they can find in our physical structure, or the structure of our emotions of fear, distrust, treachery, and disruptions. And, as Americans, we are able to talk about our thoughts in an open forum, so be sure China and Russia have hidden armies studying what we say about ourselves.

I worry about the state of our news media. CNN and Fox seem to both have lost their way from the concept of fair coverage. I watch both, and I note headlines and so-called news shows that state false information or twisted stories to fit a particular narrative. Some so-called newscasters are unfair in their coverage, and in their “one-on-one” comments with the show hosts. We often look at entertainers for our daily news.

Corporate America has abandoned one of the most effective platforms for news- radio news. I’ll address this in another post… but for now, I’ll only write this short obituary for local radio news. Newspaper and television news departments have been gutted, as the business models push for more… for less. Some of the ideas for cutting costs would be laughable in another world. But in ours, it’s dangerous.

It might be a good time to turn our political activism to local politics. These elected people control the pavement on your streets, how money is spent for schools, how our community is policed, and how we present this place we love in the best light. Local politics have more day-to-day influence on us. And, in my view, those positions need more attention by our voters.

I believe in many respects, we are as divided as we were in the 1860’s… just over different issues. This summer and fall, we watched cities where neighborhoods were gripped with rioting led, in many instances, by anarchists. Would that we be as organized as some of these groups of street thugs.

If this post has seemed you to be more negative than I usually am, you read it right. This is a worrisome time in the history of The United States Of America. We are sick…physically and emotionally. We need to heal. And it starts with me… and you