Category: People

Cult Confessions

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Dr. Frank-N-Furter

Somewhere it has been said that the deaths’ of the famous come in threes. That might be, so the passing of Dolly Parton (singer/songwriter, actress), Tim Curry (singer/actor), Jay Maisel (photographer), and Yayoi Kusama (artist) in the latter part of this month has given me some pause.

I know, that’s four famous lost lives.

Although I met Dolly Parton in an exciting moment backstage at the 1978 Ohio State Fair in the form of a brief “hello” and handshake, it is the passing of Tim Curry which moves me the most—in particular his role as Dr. Frank-N-Furter in The Rocky Horror Picture Show (RHPS).

The movie came out in 1975, and flopped. However, upon being released to home video outlets, it broke out just like Dr. Frank-N-Furter throwing off his cape in the early minutes of the movie. As it gained more popularity, movie houses all over the country started showing the film at midnight on the weekends. According to one source, “By the late 1970s, it became a symbol of sexual liberation and self-acceptance, resonating with audiences during that era.”

I was late to the party when it came to attending those midnight, weekend screenings of RHPS. My first viewing of the flick came in the late 70s or very early 80s—probably 1979 or 1980 when I was visiting my family in Ohio between semesters of my undergraduate studies at Arizona State University. The friends that I grew up with in Akron introduced me to the movie one Saturday night in nearby Kent—home of Kent State University.

Sure, it was a bit outrageous in my first viewing since my chums failed to truly explain the movie’s plot before attending, but it was one of those, “Oh Morgan, you’ve got to see this movie!” The reason why I say it was only “a bit outrageous” was that the film wasn’t a stretch from attending the two Queen concerts during my high school years featuring the band’s flamboyant front-man Freddie Mercury. Tim Curry as Dr. Frank-N-Furter in drag was simply an exaggerated version of Mercury. Curry once said, “It was part of the sexual revolution, really. Experiment was in the air and it was palpable. I gave them permission to be who they discovered they wanted to be. I’m proud of that.” I can’t say the film changed any of us, but we were certainly beguiled every time we attended.

To be clear, we were typical Midwestern, straight young men who all came from working, middle-class families—mom’s at home and dad’s at work as tire factory workers, surveyors, plumbers, or mail carriers. And every time I was back for a visit, we’d head to Kent for another midnight screening of the film followed up by a visit to whatever all-night diner we could find in Kent or somewhere along the way home.

For whatever it’s worth, although we saw the movie on countless occasions over some ten years, we were never the fans/groupies who dressed up as RHPS characters, but we were tickled that others were because that made attending all that more exciting, dare I say, “delicious?” However, I think there was one occasion when we brought some toast and rice with us. I’ve always said that Dr. Strangelove is my favorite movie of all time, but I’m confident that I’ve viewed RHPS more… even more than The Wizard of Oz.

I really can’t articulate why we went to this movie so often. If I had to answer the question today, I would chalk it up to the costume imagery of the movie and, for sure, the soundtrack. We were certainly aware of the undertones of homo/bi-sexuality, but whatever discussions we had on this topic, it wasn’t something we obsessed over. Perhaps we were simply a little too naive when it came to anything beyond matters of the heterosexual. For me the film’s music and imagery equaled Jesus Christ Superstar—another film and soundtrack of our youth. Whether it’s The Time Warp, or Sweet Transvestite, I assure you I know all the words to both songs. They are both on one of my Spotify playlists.

In recalling these memories, I have to wonder how this movie would be received today by the same demographic… in places like Akron, or better yet, Powell, Wyoming. One part of me thinks it would be viewed as anything but artistic in its music and costume design. In a time when Christian nationalism is mainstream-to-widespread, my hunch is it would be viewed as lewd and downright wicked. Though I don’t recall, I’m sure there were those back then who viewed it in the same light, but not our little band of straight, young men.

On the surface there would seem to be a great contrast between Dolly Parton and Tim Curry. Yet, beyond the stage, studios, and movie sets, I suspect they had much more in common. Have you ever heard some of Dolly Parton’s off color jokes? I’d even go as far and bet that Parton herself viewed The Rocky Horror Picture Show and loved it.

Don’t get strung out by the way I look.
Don’t judge a book by its cover.
I’m not much of a man by the light of day,
but by night I’m one hell of a lover!
—Dr. Frank-N-Furter

Do-Gooders On Parade

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It’s not too unusual to name inanimate things after those who helped make them happen… think Carnegie Hall, Mercedes Benz Stadium, Guggenheim Museum, or the upcoming completion of the Bill and Melinda Gates Mega Data Center (ha, just kidding on that last one, but it’s not a reach). Of course, those examples are of the grandest scale, but it happens at all levels, including right here at our local college in podunk, Powell, Wyoming.

At Northwest College, there is certainly nothing unique in how they roll out their financial donors for display at any given place on campus. I’ve seen this at other institutions, but maybe not quite as pronounced as it is with this little junior college in Northwest Wyoming.

Most recently there is the new Student Center and it is littered with plaques/signs mentioning the generous giving regarding some of Powell’s finest… you know, the most affluent citizens and businesses. For example, there’s the “Majorie Fryer Wilder Fireplace,” the “Cummins Veteran’s Lounge,” and there’s even a “Jim Vogt Family Overlook” which is a bunch of chairs on the second floor of the Student Center overlooking the main mall. Keep in mind, this is just one building I’m talking about here. Further, there’s the “Big Horn Federal Gallery Wall,” the “Bill and Karen Hayes Study Room,” and of course the “Bonner Family Dining Plaza.” Hell, it just wouldn’t be a Northwest College building if it didn’t have the name Bonner splattered on some plaque, panel, or wall in a prominent location. 

When I see these kind of displays, it makes me even less enthusiastic to give. It reminds me of those do-gooder lists that were posted in grade school that had gold stars next to student names for various accomplishments in the classroom. Kathy Murphy’s name would have a gazillion stars by her name and then on the same list there was Gary Wade’s name with only two stars—neither was gold, and only hand-drawn by the teacher with a Bic disposable pen. I remember wondering how Gary felt to see his name on that list compared to everyone else.

In pondering this, I’m reminded of those sponsorships that show up on professional team uniforms and the renaming of stadiums/arenas after banks and big corporations. The University of Wyoming is one of the few holdouts to this trend, clinging fast to their football stadium’s name of War Memorial Stadium. I wonder how much longer can they hold out before some big oil corporation throws enough money at the school to change the venue’s name. America and its money obsession… what a country!

It’s no secret that I’ve never been much of a donor to the NWC cause. I’d like to think that the compensation I received matched the effort I put in over those 33 years. I know there were some who gave more effort and others who coasted through during their entire tenure, but I feel that the college and I are square. Whatever money I’ve given back to the college, I’ve done it anonymously and in modest amounts. My favorite mode of giving has always been informal—an occasional large tip to the baristas at the coffee counter in the student center, including an extra $5 with my popcorn or candy at the concession stand for athletic events, and paying art students a little extra over their asking price when purchasing their works.

My objective here is not to embarrass or ridicule those who have made significant contributions that resulted in their names permanently bonded to a building for everyone to see. I suspect many of them don’t care if their name is on any given placard or not. My question is simple: What does seeing those names do for the average, low-to-middle income citizen (myself included here) who hasn’t given or can’t give due to financial shortcomings? Is it suppose to inspire us to do the same, or does it just make for a public acknowledgement of those who have and those who have not? In short, it smacks of elitism. Whatever happened to giving anonymously—when did that go out of style? Imagine coming upon a panel or wall with numerous listings of “anonymous” only—yet still including the different sizes of each based on the amount given. How refreshing would that be? Perhaps institutions like Northwest College believe that the posting of names is actually encouraging of other potential donors. Yet in my case, it’s a huge turnoff. 

Given all the do-gooders listed just in the new student center, I have a modest request: How much money is required of me to have a small plaque installed with my name on it (including my years of service) above one of the many mens’ urinals on campus?

Just one, that’s all I ask.

So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. —Matthew 6:2–5

Postscript: While Northwest College is preparing to introduce a new convoluted (and likely expensive) marketing campaign that doesn’t include changing its name to “Yellowstone College,” Laramie County Community College, President Joe Schaffer announced plans to recommend changing the school’s name to Wyoming State College. The proposal goes to the Board of Trustees for a formal vote on September 16, 2026, with an official transition target date of July 1, 2027, if approved.

Why the Change is Proposed…
• Better Recognition: Research showed the current county-specific name limits recruitment and causes confusion outside the immediate region.
• Broader Reach: Leaders aim to attract more students across state lines and boost long-term enrollment.
• Strategic Growth: The update removes geographic barriers while keeping the core mission, local commitment, and Golden Eagles mascot intact.

4-Way Stops: I’ve Had It

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I’m a little late to the party here, but I’ve recently been listening to the podcast titled I’ve Had It hosted by Jennifer Welch and Angie “Pumps” Sullivan. Although they get into a lot of political shit, there is nothing too sacred that can’t be dressed down on their program. Recently they’ve slammed oblivious cell phone talkers/walkers, misbehaving children in public places, and manly-labeled products for insecure men who need validation of their masculinity.

I suspect the reason I love listening to these two Oklahoma-raised women is the title of their podcast could easily be the title of this blog because when I sit down to write something here, it’s pretty much me coming to that moment of, “I’ve had it with this or that.”

In the spirit of Welch and Sullivan, I thought I’d do a little of my own I’ve Had It in this post—hopefully as well as any 65-year-old White dude can pull it off.

Living in a small Wyoming town, it’s safe to say that most folk here are conservative—very conservative in my opinion… as in outright stupid conservative just for the sake of being a conservative. Without any doubt, White MAGA has a solid foothold in Powell, Wyoming and throughout Park County which includes the tourist-based town of Cody.

It’s common to hear various leaders and high-profile members of Powell talk about how friendly it is here. I suspect there’s some truth in it, but after living here for over 30 years, there’s a little more to this friendliness than just pure unadulterated congeniality.

My suspicion is rooted in one continuous experience I have in this town on any given day—it’s the dreaded four-way stop sign intersections.

As a regular cyclist around town (and occasional driver) there are numerous four-way stop intersections throughout this town. Given how “nice” people are in Powell, Wyoming, if you’re on a bicycle, they typically wave you on even if they arrive at the intersection well before you. And that’s the part that gets me.

As a bicycle commuter, I am observant of the rules of the road which apply to both cars and bicycles, including the proper protocol for a four-way stop sign. There’s nothing worse than being on my bike approaching a four-way that has a vehicle already stopped. Instead of proceeding through the intersection as I’m clearly slowing down in my approach, these Powell do-gooders will stay there and watch me come to a stop. And after I have stopped, they do that Powell thing and wave me on even though they were there way before I arrived. I call it “The Powell Standoff.”

So, consider it safe to say, I’ve had it with this Dudley-Do-Right shit. No doubt and in their defense, they would likely tell anyone that they are simply being kind to the cyclists, but I’m not buying it. If they had simply proceeded through the stop sign after coming to a complete halt, thus establishing the right-of-way, I would have only had to slow down as they proceeded through the intersection.

And here’s my theory… I don’t think they wave me through because they are being nice. I think their over-the-top Anita Bryantness is simply a ruse for being nosey so they can see who the crazy libtard is on a bicycle when it’s barely above freezing outside—because liberals are the only ones who really ride bikes around here beyond the summer months.

I can feel their indifferent stares as I proceed slowly through the intersection, only because I had to come to a complete stop waiting on them. If they had just followed the rule, both parties would have been through the intersection sans a “Powell Stand-Off.” If you’re a pedestrian, it’s almost worse because they have that much longer to stare at you as you cross any given intersection where you might be—it doesn’t even have to be a four way or a pedestrian crossing! Their facial expressions say they are doing you a big favor, but inside they just want to mow you down—reduced to a giant grease spot on the asphalt.

Lastly, I know there are other bike riders in this town that think it’s their right to blow through stop signs because they are on a bicycle. I suppose this could be another occasion for Powell drivers to hesitate at a four-way. However, these lawless cyclists give other riders like me a bad look. So my advice to drivers who encounter bike-riders who ignore the rules of the road is to simply run them over when they go flying through stop signs.

So much for being nice.

The United States and Low-Hanging Fruit

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South Park’s Pete Hegseth

As disturbing as everything to do with President Trump can be, there is a certain consolation when it comes to his utter incompetence, deceit, cruelty, and narcissism—to name only a few. I suspect that is how the late-night talk shows and other comedians must see it. There’s so much rich material when it comes to his stupidity and public speaking appearances, one doesn’t have to work very hard to make a joke of him, and often those jokes are the plain truth.

All of this certainly applies to his “illustrious” staff as well. I mean, really, just pick any one of them and there’s an entire new chapter of satire to be written. 

Of those staff members, it’s hard to overlook Secretary of Defense… I mean War, Pete Hegseth (a.k.a., Warlord Hegseth). You could say he’s been my latest political muse since the United States attacked Iran. The excitement he has for the war and reporting on the war is akin to a high school girl that made the cheerleading squad. If I didn’t know better, this might be the most sexual thing that’s ever happened to him. Not that I would want to witness it, but I would bet his most profound erections in life have “emerged” with the commencement of this “war.” It’s possible that his wife is one of the most sexually frustrated married women in America right now. Consider it safe to say that Hegseth must have been deprived of playing “Army” as an adolescent. 

OK, that’s about as low as I’ll go here, but there’s more to discuss.

The Trump administration has often reminded me of a quote I learned long ago that starts out like this: “He who knows not, and knows not he knows not, he is a fool. Shun him.” I mean, that is Pete Hegseth in a nutshell. When I think of Hegseth, I’m reminded of that great Disney classic, Fantasia. Hegseth is Mickey Mouse as the “Sorcerer’s Apprentice,”incompetent, foolish, and totally in over his head. Worst of all, Hegseth appears to have no clue regarding the consequences of his actions. He’s intoxicated by the power that has been given to him as he pours gasoline on the fires he and Trump have started. However, in this version, the sorcerer is nowhere to be found to arrest the developing disaster.

A former ROTC commander of Hegseth’s alma mater, Princeton, once said of Hegseth, “His nomination (as Secretary of Defense) is an embarrassment and a disgrace to all who have served, or will serve.” One doesn’t have to know about war, or national defense, or military tactics to know that Hegseth is in way over his head.

Recently, I heard him bragging about the sinking of an Iranian ship (IRIS Dena) in the Indian Ocean—nowhere near war-torn Iran. Hegseth quipped in a press conference about the sinking of various Iranian ships, “The Iranian Navy rests at the bottom of the Persian Gulf. Combat ineffective, decimated, destroyed, defeated. Pick your adjective.” In the case of the Dena, it was a destroyer-size ship that was in route back to Iran following the ceremonial 2026 Fleet Review in India. Along with that, the crew participated in other events including the Indian Ocean Naval Symposium—hardly events associated with preparing for battle. The Dena could have been sunk anywhere and at any time if it had posed any kind of real threat. This was just a case of low-hanging fruit for Hegseth and his goons in the “War” Department—very much akin to their comrades at ICE and the bullying, injuring, and killing of unarmed American citizens.

There’s been a formidable amount of conflicting information for why this war was started by the United States. In the days leading up to the war, Trump’s “special envoy” Steve Witkoff claimed that Iran was “probably a week away” from having nuclear bomb-making material. Then during his rambling State of the Union address, Trump said Iran would soon have the ability to strike the United States with an intercontinental ballistic missile. All of this, of course, contradicted his own claims eight months earlier that Iran’s nuclear capabilities were “obliterated.” Following military action, Secretary of State Marco Rubio claimed that Iran posed an imminent threat as a result of imminent attacks from Israel—making it sound as if Israel was dictating the conditions of military action for the United States. Finally Trump went on record to say that Iran was going to launch preemptive strikes against the US on its own. One can’t help but to be reminded of George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, and Colin Powell’s false alarms regarding Iraq’s “weapons of mass destruction.” Does the United States really need to repeat that huge cluster-fuck… and so soon?

I have another theory about the rationale behind this war that is as good as the buffoon in charge: This war is sponsored by all the weapons manufacturers to “test” their products in a nearly risk-free environment—given that Iran is hardly a challenge when it comes to their military prowess. Again, another case of going after low-hanging fruit—a hallmark of this administration.

Mass Diversity not Deportation

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Standing in the U.S. Customs and Border Protection line at the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport (MSP) after my flight back from Paris, I couldn’t help but think of Donald Trump’s consistent message about mass deportation of immigrants if he is elected again.

Upon arrival, the passengers of all international flights were funneled into one big room where their passports (and visas?) were processed. But, it wasn’t one giant line for all as we were immediately separated by the type of passport we possessed. If you had a U.S. Passport, you queued up in one line, if you held a passport from another country, you queued up in a different line. It’s worth noting here that the U.S. Passport line had at least four agents processing passports while the “other passports” line had only one, which struck me as a bad look from a public relations standpoint.

At some point in the hour-plus wait to have my passport processed with all the other passengers, I found myself looking around the room (as anyone would do) and suddenly became aware of the similarities between the two separate lines. As anyone would expect, the “other passports” line had a great diversity of characters—people of color, different religions based on their clothing, and probably even a diversity when it comes to socio-economic status. But, here’s the thing… the line I was standing in was every bit as diverse—so much, you truly couldn’t tell the two apart.

I wanted to snap a photo of the room and send it to those like Donald Trump or his running mate, J.D. Vance, but didn’t want to give the security folk in such a no-nonsense area of the airport a reason to pull me aside as a suspicious person. With that photo, I would have simply included some wise-crack message like, “You’re too late, they’re already citizens.”

In short, our country has always been about being a great melting pot—that has always been one of its strengths. So, why in the hell are some of us cheering on Trump when he says he wants to implement the country’s largest deportation program this country has ever seen?

Looking around the room at the variety of people present—especially in the U.S. Passports line—I had an overwhelming sense of pride. Yet, if Trump or Vance had been standing next to me, they would have been disgusted. And, there are few things more un-American than that.

A Quick Note to Nancy Mace

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Sadly, Nancy Mace is the
best South Carolina can do.

The following was sent to U.S. Representative Nancy Mace of South Carolina:

I just listened to your interview on NPR, and I was struck by how rude you were to the journalist interviewing you—noting how many times you interrupted her before she could even complete her question to you. I just sat there shaking my head in disbelief. Your interview seems especially cringe-worthy knowing you have a master’s degree in journalism and mass media. Obviously it must have been a “participation degree” instead of anything associated with earning the degree.

Further, you indicated how almost every problem in this country is on the current President’s lap. It was ridiculous and all I could think was, “Yeah, she must represent all those dumbed-down, knuckle-dragging racist of South Carolina. All you accomplished in the interview was throwing out the usual red meat like Donald Trump and the nightly Fox News line-up.

In short, you are what’s wrong with this country… full of yourself arrogance, disrespectful toward other professionals, self-centeredness, and unquestionable stupidity.

The Return of Brittney Griner

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Brittney Griner is finally free from her Russian captors. Although many Americans are happy about this, there appears to be just as many who are not—including some tool-turned-psuedo-journalist named Benny Johnson.

Benny and his ilk think Griner should still be in Russia instead of former U.S. Marine, Paul Whelan, who has been painted by Johnson as a patriotic Marine who loves his country. 

If we look deeper into the character of Paul Whelan, we’ll find he’s not all that red-white-and-blue—certainly not a “John Rambo” as they’d like us to believe.

For one, Whelan is a citizen in three other countries—Canada (his birthplace), the United Kingdom and the Irish Republic. Secondly, although he did serve in the U.S. Marine Corp and was part of two tours in Iraq, he was ultimately discharged from the Marines for bad conduct on larceny—writing bad checks and stealing Social Security numbers.

He’s hardly a patriot, certainly not a hero by anyone’s definition. Yet, Benny Johnson and company will always choose a White dude over a Black woman, an obedient member of the military over an outspoken athlete, a straight guy over a lesbian—even if that straight, White, member of the military is a swindler.

Benny Johnson’s bullshit tweet.

Simply put, Whelan is another grifter who once wore a Marine uniform. Further, the other countries where he holds a passport aren’t making much noise over his Russian detention either.  The truth is Griner is a much greater asset, an inspiration to all young women, an activist, and a great athlete.

Lastly, if Whelan is truly the patriot that Benny Johnson says he is, surely Whelan is good to know that Griner went home before him. That’s what military people sign up for—to serve, protect, and sacrifice if needed. Besides, trading Whelan for the Russian gun-runner Viktor Bout would truly have been a bad trade.

More on Whelan HERE.

Low-Rent, Supreme Court Martydom

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Young lesbian couple celebrating their marriage in front of their friends. —marieclaire.com.au

Lorie Smith of “303 Creative” somewhere in Colorado is a graphic artist/designer who specializes in websites, graphics, social media, and marketing. No doubt, she is one of several hundred businesses in Colorado who offer such services. So, to get herself more noticed, she has decided to take a different approach to promoting herself rather than the usual, good-old-fashioned hard work method.

Here’s her plan: Smith doesn’t want to do wedding websites for same sex couples because according to her faith, she doesn’t believe in same-sex marriages and is afraid the State of Colorado will force her to do such. “I want to design for weddings that are consistent with my faith,” Smith said. So, before any same-sex couples even ask her to create a website for them, she is going to the Supreme Court and challenging this possible scenario before it ever materializes.

Yeah, right… Smith is just another individual to add to the growing list of pollyanna, look-at-me, attention-needy whores who believes that her hang-ups and her problems should belong to everyone else—think cake decorator, Jack Phillips of Masterpiece Cakeshop (also in Colorado), or the Kentucky County Clerk, Kim Davis, who refused to issue marriage license to same-sex couples because of her faith.

Snake-Oil Salesman, Kenneth Copeland

You know, I don’t want to do graphic design for asshole politicians like Donald Trump or any of his cronies because I want to do graphic design for projects that are consistent with my ethics, my morals, or my faith. Yet, I’m not going to the Supreme Court and asking them to excuse me from working for such people should they ever come calling. I don’t want to do family portraits for brainwashed, evangelical families who attend churches run by snake-oil salesmen like Joel Osteen or Kenneth Copeland because I want to do graphic design for projects that are consistent with my ethics, my morals, or my faith. Yet, I’m not going to the Supreme Court and asking them to excuse me from working for such people should they ever come calling.

Good God, Lorie Smith must think she’s the only web designer in all of Colorado—possibly the entire country or world. Talk about a needy and over-inflated ego.

There’s a simple solution to Smith’s problem that graphic designers, artists, printers and other businesses have been practicing for years when it comes to not taking on jobs that are of no interest to an “artist” like herself—and surely she knows it too (unless she really is that stupid).

You don’t want to do a job for a same-sex couple? OK, just tell them you’re really slammed with other work and you can’t take on any other jobs at this time. You don’t want to do work for a known White supremacy group, tell them you’re working on a huge project for the Southern Poverty Law Center (if you want to add a little spice to the conversation) and you’re not sure when you could get to their project.

Whether right or wrong, ethical or unethical, businesses have been turning down work for years—and for all kinds of reasons. Yet, Smith seems to insist that her business “ethics” be put out there for the entire country to know about. Lorie Smith is the epitome of a drama-queen, dime-store martyr.

Most business operations avoid being too political, too religious, too anything because they typically want as much business as they can get. But, there are those customers who are undesirable for whatever reason—some reasons more legit than others. Maybe they don’t pay their bills on time, maybe they aren’t pleasant to work with, maybe they own a bar or a strip joint, maybe they are a lawyer, or maybe there is simply something about them that you don’t like as soon as they walk into the room. The great thing about being in business, you don’t have to be bluntly truthful in turning down any client that seeks you out. You can simply decline a job because you’re busy, and (in making them feel good as they walk out the door) suggest someone else who might be a good alternative for their project.

Of course, those like Lorie Smith like to wear their values, their ethics, their religion, and whatever else you can think of on their sleeve for the whole world to see. Lorie Smith’s faith and morals are as sickening sweet as Masterpiece Cakeshop’s wedding cakes.

If only someone would set up another marketing/graphic design operation next door or across the street from Smith with a banner that says, “We Welcome Same-Sex Wedding Clients.”

Beyond an Everyday Failure

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A World Without Borders

The other day, I put together a list of things I needed to accomplish for a trip into town—you know, errands.

Most important was a visit to Costco and to have a meander in some of the Fairbanks charity shops. I also considered finding a new place to have lunch and perhaps consider an early afternoon movie.

It’s a little over 20 miles from the house to Fairbanks, so I always put a list together to make sure I get as much bang for my buck—especially when gas is well over five dollars per gallon.

After driving all the way into town and making it to the Salvation Army thrift shop,  I realized my wallet wasn’t with me (but my phone was) and I had only been in the store for a couple of minutes. I was dead in the water as far as achieving the goals for my excursion into town. In short, my jaunt into town was a total failure resulting only in a waste of precious time and fuel.

So, home I went thinking I would just get an early start on the second part of my day—weeding the garden. I couldn’t bring myself to return to the house and retrieve my wallet and then do it all again. I felt as if a little self-imposed punishment was needed. Besides, when I do this back home, it usually relates to forgetting something that is work related, but in those instances, we’re only talking about getting back on my bicycle and riding the one-third of a mile back to the house to correct my forgetfulness.

So, one might be saying to themselves about now, this seems like a pretty innocuous event to even write about here; and perhaps it is. However, the following day I made sure I had everything I needed and made the drive again—successfully completing all of my objectives (sans lunch and a movie).

Coming home, I started thinking about the previous failed trip. Anytime I do-something-for-nothing (as I like to call such events), I start thinking about everything that transpired and challenge myself to find something that might have been meaningful in my folly… you know, a message or lesson that perhaps the universe was attempting to convey to me that I initially didn’t note.

All I could think about was the Fresh Air story on the radio coming home. Terry Gross was interviewing Kelly Lytle Hernández discussing her new book Bad Mexicans: Race, Empire, and Revolution in the Borderlands. It was very engaging as I drove home—making me forget my forgetfulness—and realizing this was a bit of American history that I’d never, ever heard about in any of my history-related formal education courses. Here I was, almost 62-years-old and I was learning about something that we should all know.

Without getting too much into it, I’ll just say here for the reader, that Hernández’s book is about Ricardo Flores Magón and his magonistas that played a pivotal role in early days of the Mexican Revolution that started in 1910, including the role our government played in the event’s outcomes and the impact it had on our country.

So, upon realizing what that non-productive round-trip was really about, I purchased the book and have added it to my growing summer-reading list.

All I can say is that the next time you “drop the ball” regarding some task or objective you’re out to complete, look around you, there might be something else there worth picking up.