Legal Advice Sought On Possible Class Action Lawsuit !!!!

TRYING TO MAKE BAD NEWS WEAR A HAPPY FACE. (ADDED: THIS POST IS SOME OF MY DRY HUMOR. SORRY IF I GOT SOME FOLKS UPSET!!!  ) 

My brother, Gary, and I talk about every day. Today, after talking about our 97 year Dad, I mentioned watching Al Roker, Today Show, this morning standing in the wind, waves and storm caused by Hurricane Sandy. Al seemed to relish this perfect storm with so much potential for destruction. He may have been thinking about an Emmy award for dumbest weather report in history!!!!

Our discussion turned to the violent punishment dealt out while attending PCHS. I told Gary it did not bother me too much to see justice administered, but what did bother me was the fact the teachers seemed to enjoy beating down students. (To be fair--not all teachers acted like potential WWE stars!)  Gary remarked he did recall a silly smirk on one teacher's face as he beat a student to the floor. The teacher in question here allegedly experienced some post-teaching severe mental issues. No one will ever know if his classroom beatings had any connection to his own alleged bizzare and anti-social behavior. Please do not ask me any questions about this very regretable situation!

If you are reading this Post you probably know exactly what I am talking about.

Here's where I solicit your help. If you have a "slip and fall" , "ambulance chasing", "contingency only"lawyer in your family, please ask if there is a statute of limitations on teachers beating up students. I realize most of the teachers have crossed into eternity. So too have some of the victims. However, witnesses do remain and estates of deceased teachers involved in the beatings may be at risk, IF the statute of limitations has not run out. Compounding the problem is no physical proof remains. However, emotional trauma that has lasted a lifetime may have been caused. Also, the families of deceased beat down students deserve some sort of compensation. I strongly suspect the families of deceased beat down students have heard of the horrific and unrestrained justice that was frequently administered at PCHS!

   

We may have an opportunity to give a whole new meaning to a CLASS ACTION LAWSUIT !!!!!!!!

Recent Letter Prinited in Shawnee News-Star

You may find the following interesting. It is MY opinion. I do feel very strongly about these issues.

October 24, 2012

Shawnee News-Star

Letters to the Editor:

My Thesaurus does not contain words that are strong enough to express my anger and disbelief over the recent revelation concerning the Benghazi timeline.

Allegedly, members of the US Intelligence Community, Pentagon, and the White House were aware of the seven hour battle that led to the death of our ambassador and three other U.S. citizens. Real time video, phone calls, and emails leave no doubt this was a well coordinated terrorist attack against the United States owned land, property and citizens at Benghazi. Also, allegedly, a U.S. drone was flying over the incident. Information about possible drone armaments has not been revealed in the public press. U.S. airpower resources were within an hour of Benghazi.

When the smoke cleared, four Americans were dead, the ambassador had been raped, (apparently the location of these four was provided by Libyan guards we had hired to protect our people and property) our embassy was ransacked, secret documents compromised, and American international prestige damaged—perhaps beyond repair.

Many, many other details are coming forth that clearly show that the immediate official response of a spontaneous riot over an internet video were not only wrong, but intentionally substituted for the truth.

As a U.S. citizen I ask at what terror threshold do we defend our people and property?  As a retired military member I ask what ever happened to “leave no one behind” doctrine? As grandfather of a soon to be 18 year old grandson what do I tell him about post high school military options?

This incident transcends the elections in November. It strikes at the heart of who we are as a nation and how important are American lives lost to terrorism. In case you have forgotten—this incident happened on September 11, 2012!

Glenn C. Peck

Shawnee 

More Lessons Learned On Recent Trip to Indiana

Sometimes a lot can be learned by looking at where you started. Our recent trip to Indiana reminded me again of how Blessed I have been in my life to know, love, and be loved, by some very special people.

If you are reading this Post, chances are very good you have played a significant role in my life. Please accept my heart felt thanks.

It is my sincere hope and prayer that you will continue to be a Blessing and be Blest in return.

JUST ONE MORE CAST !

     JUST ONE MORE CAST!

Fishing, like Life, always yearns for another cast
The Sun is rapidly setting---Daylight will not last

Promise of bigger things just seem a bit farther out
Next bend of the river is the prize catch no doubt

Since break of dawn through sunshine and rain
Fishing inoculates against all heartache and pain 

Fishing is different than a stringer of the dead
It's life with hopes, snags, no fear and no dread

I am hearing my name whispered from the shore
"Lord, I'm coming; please let me cast one more." 

                              ----Glenn C. Peck
                                    10-25-12
   

"Hey, it's good to be back home again." ---John Denver

This is a revision to the first Post by this title. The revision is being made at the request of one of our readers. While I stand by the first Post, I am changing the Post in the interest of domestic harmony!

ON OUR RECENT TRIP TO COLUMBUS AND NORTH VERNON SEVERAL PEOPLE ASKED WHY WE CAME FROM OKLAHOMA TO INDIANA? Here's my reply:

"We came to participate in the Five-Day International Mime Convention. After about five minutes the convention broke up because no one had any thing to say!!!!" We spent the rest of the time visiting friends and family.

Yes, I said that!

Quick snapshots of our brief stay in Hoosier Land:

1. Thanks for the calls and visits. Fifty plus years doesn't seem that long ago. Well, it does in the morning! Sorry to learn of the passing of some very dear friends.

2.Yes, I recall very well the Fall Hayrides at PCHS.  

3. Columbus: It has become New York City West. My wife loved it. I didn't. What's up with the design of the Wal-Mart store by I-65? The selection of East Coast items is huge. Just color me Country. I've seen all of the big cities in twenty years of USAF duty to last a lifetime.

4. Nashville, IN: Gatlinburg, TN with Birkenstock shoes. No provocative, sensual T-Shirts. Lots of artists just getting by in Nashville. Super money being made by others. One lot there recently sold for 3.5 million dollars. Bought two cases of apple butter. We give some as Christmas gifts.

Fall Foliage: Brown Co beats Vermont. I have seen them both in October. Grass in Oklahoma is more brown than green. The golf courses still have green grass. The well kept yards in Indiana are very beautiful. Hoosiers have always taken great pride in their yards.

5. North Vernon: Still a bedroom community for Seymour and Columbus. Very hard to get around when the high school lets out. Almost as many eating spots as people!

At 97, my Dad is like a Timex watch--Still ticking.


6.. Clean Cars: Most IN cars very clean. In OK dust and Red Dirt cover many. There are more pickup trucks in OK than cars. In Pottawatomie County we have more miles of gravel roads than paved roads.

7. Conclusion: Enjoyed the visits/call. Probably will not be back until that dreaded call comes.

              "Way down yonder in the Indian Nation
                I rode my pony on the reservation
                In those Oklahoma Hills where I belong
                The cowboy's life is my occupation
                In those Oklahoma Hills where I belong"

                      --- Country Singer Hank Thompson

A SIMPLE LIFE

  

           A Simple Life

At the end of the life's uncertain day
what will the people around you say?

He knew every joke, just loads of fun
just a Good 'Ol Boy, a real fine chum!

He could clear the bar, he loved to fight
but no one knew he couldn't sleep at night

And others whose name few ever knew
lived right and served; which one are you?

                     ----Glenn C. Peck , 10-11-12
  

AN AWESOME THOUGHT FROM ROBERT SERVICE

Robert Service, like all great poets, can say much with few words. Are you ready?

Just Think !

By Robert W. Service 1874–1958

Just think! some night the stars will gleam

   Upon a cold, grey stone,

And trace a name with silver beam,

   And lo! ’twill be your own.

That night is speeding on to greet

   Your epitaphic rhyme.

You life is but a little beat

   Within the heart of Time.

A little gain, a little pain,

   A laugh, lest you may moan;

A little blame, a little fame,

   A star-gleam on a stone.  (Emphasis Mine)  

BEST KNOWN OF ROBERT SERVICE'S POEMS

Only those who have experienced the bitter cold of the North and have felt life had jilted them can truly appreciate this best known poem of Robert Service:

The Shooting of Dan McGrew

By Robert W. Service 1874–1958

A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon;

The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a jag-time tune;

Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,

And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the lady that's known as Lou.

When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and the glare, (I experienced -45 )

There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.

He looked like a man with a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse,

Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house.

There was none could place the stranger's face, though we searched ourselves for a clue;

But we drank his health, and the last to drink was Dangerous Dan McGrew.

There's men that somehow just grip your eyes, and hold them hard like a spell;

And such was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell;

With a face most hair, and the dreary stare of a dog whose day is done,

As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and the drops fell one by one.

Then I got to figgering who he was, and wondering what he'd do,

And I turned my head — and there watching him was the lady that's known as Lou.

His eyes went rubbering round the room, and he seemed in a kind of daze,

Till at last that old piano fell in the way of his wandering gaze.

The rag-time kid was having a drink; there was no one else on the stool,

So the stranger stumbles across the room, and flops down there like a fool.

In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;

Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands — my God! but that man could play.

Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,

And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear;

With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,

A half-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;

While high overhead, green, yellow and red, the North Lights swept in bars? —

Then you've a haunch what the music meant. . . hunger and night and the stars.

And hunger not of the belly kind, that's banished with bacon and beans,

But the gnawing hunger of lonely men for a home and all that it means;

For a fireside far from the cares that are, four walls and a roof above;

But oh! so cramful of cosy joy, and crowned with a woman's love —

A woman dearer than all the world, and true as Heaven is true —

(God! how ghastly she looks through her rouge, — the lady that's known as Lou.)

Then on a sudden the music changed, so soft that you scarce could hear;

But you felt that your life had been looted clean of all that it once held dear;

That someone had stolen the woman you loved; that her love was a devil's lie;

That your guts were gone, and the best for you was to crawl away and die.

'Twas the crowning cry of a heart's despair, and it thrilled you through and through —

"I guess I'll make it a spread misere", said Dangerous Dan McGrew.

The music almost died away ... then it burst like a pent-up flood;

And it seemed to say, "Repay, repay," and my eyes were blind with blood.

The thought came back of an ancient wrong, and it stung like a frozen lash,

And the lust awoke to kill, to kill ... then the music stopped with a crash,

And the stranger turned, and his eyes they burned in a most peculiar way;

In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;

Then his lips went in in a kind of grin, and he spoke, and his voice was calm,

And "Boys," says he, "you don't know me, and none of you care a damn;

But I want to state, and my words are straight, and I'll bet my poke they're true,

That one of you is a hound of hell. . .and that one is Dan McGrew."  (Emphasis Mine)

Then I ducked my head, and the lights went out, and two guns blazed in the dark,

And a woman screamed, and the lights went up, and two men lay stiff and stark.

Pitched on his head, and pumped full of lead, was Dangerous Dan McGrew,

While the man from the creeks lay clutched to the breast of the lady that's known as Lou.

These are the simple facts of the case, and I guess I ought to know.

They say that the stranger was crazed with "hooch," and I'm not denying it's so.

I'm not so wise as the lawyer guys, but strictly between us two —

The woman that kissed him and — pinched his poke — was the lady that's known as Lou. 

THIS POEM MAY BE JUST FOR YOU--The Quitter

Robert Service always strikes a nerve with me.. How about you old classmate friend of mine? Stay in the fight! The next corner may have the victory!

The Quitter

When you're lost in the Wild, and you're scared as a child,
And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you're sore as a boil, it's according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and . . . die.
But the Code of a Man says: "Fight all you can,"
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it's easy to blow . . .
It's the hell-served-for-breakfast that's hard.  (Emphasis Mine)

"You're sick of the game!" Well, now, that's a shame.
You're young and you're brave and you're bright.
"You've had a raw deal!" I know -- but don't squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It's the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don't be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it's so easy to quit:
It's the keeping-your-chin-up that's hard.

It's easy to cry that you're beaten -- and die;
It's easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope's out of sight --
Why, that's the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try -- it's dead easy to die,
It's the keeping-on-living that's hard. 

Robert William Service

FIRST POEM I MEMORIZED AT LOVETT Grade School

Robert Service is an unsung master of rhyme. His poems about the Yukon Territory are priceless. "The Cremation of Sam McGee" is my all time favorite of his. We had a chance to visit Service's log cabin in Dawson, Yukon Territory. Here's the best of the best---in my opinion.

The Cremation of Sam McGee

By Robert W. Service 1874–1958

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

      By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

      That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

      But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

      I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows.

Why he left his home in the South to roam 'round the Pole, God only knows.

He was always cold, but the land of gold seemed to hold him like a spell;

Though he'd often say in his homely way that "he'd sooner live in hell."

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.

Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold it stabbed like a driven nail.

If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn't see;

It wasn't much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight in our robes beneath the snow,

And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead were dancing heel and toe,

He turned to me, and "Cap," says he, "I'll cash in this trip, I guess;

And if I do, I'm asking that you won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no; then he says with a sort of moan:

"It's the cursèd cold, and it's got right hold till I'm chilled clean through to the bone.

Yet 'tain't being dead—it's my awful dread of the icy grave that pains;

So I want you to swear that, foul or fair, you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed, so I swore I would not fail;

And we started on at the streak of dawn; but God! he looked ghastly pale.

He crouched on the sleigh, and he raved all day of his home in Tennessee;

And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death, and I hurried, horror-driven,

With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid, because of a promise given;

It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say: "You may tax your brawn and brains,

But you promised true, and it's up to you to cremate those last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid, and the trail has its own stern code. (Emphasis Mine)

In the days to come, though my lips were dumb, in my heart how I cursed that load.

In the long, long night, by the lone firelight, while the huskies, round in a ring,

Howled out their woes to the homeless snows— O God! how I loathed the thing.

And every day that quiet clay seemed to heavy and heavier grow;

And on I went, though the dogs were spent and the grub was getting low;

The trail was bad, and I felt half mad, but I swore I would not give in;

And I'd often sing to the hateful thing, and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay;

It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the "Alice May."

And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum;

Then "Here," said I, with a sudden cry, "is my cre-ma-tor-eum."

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor, and I lit the boiler fire;

Some coal I found that was lying around, and I heaped the fuel higher;

The flames just soared, and the furnace roared—such a blaze you seldom see;

And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like to hear him sizzle so;

And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled, and the wind began to blow.

It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled down my cheeks, and I don't know why;

And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;

But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;

I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.

I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;

And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.

It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—

Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

There are strange things done in the midnight sun

      By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

      That would make your blood run cold;

The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,

      But the queerest they ever did see

Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge

      I cremated Sam McGee.

CAN'T YOU TAKE A JOKE ?????

My wife of almost 50 years recently took exception to some fun I directed toward her.

I asked, "Can't you take a joke?"

She looked straight at me and said, "I did !"

The More She ChangesThe More She Remains The Same!

She wore change like a well earned badge of honor.

Time had etched shallow wrinkles in random rows upon her face.

Her neck which was once so Cleopatra - like had enlarged some and was dotted here and there with small moles and skin tags.

Her brown hair was now snow white; yet, each hair remained in the same place over the many years.

Her beautiful nose could have launched a thousand ships. Now it had sunspots and some light brown moles.

Her voice was a bit subdued but remained purposeful and direct.

The lips of this lovely woman required little lipstick. They framed an infectious smile. Now a few vertical lines found a home on her lips. Her smile never dimmed.

The twinkle and occasional winking of her eyes has never changed. Love, Hope and Compassion radiates with the same illumination as ever before.

Age has not conquered her---she has conquered age! 

                                   ---Glenn C. Peck

THE GAME! THE GAME! THE GAME!

WHEN GENERAL DOUGLAS MACARTHUR GAVE HIS FAREWELL SPEECH TO THE CADETS AT WEST POINT, HE SPOKE WITHOUT NOTES OR A TELEPROMPTER; HE CHALLENGED THE MEMBERS OF THE CADET CORPS TO ALWAYS MAKE DUTY, HONOR AND COUNTRY THE REASON FOR SERVING IN THE MILITARY.

HE CONCLUDED HIS SPEECH BY SAYING THAT WHEN HE CROSSED THE RIVER OF DEATH HIS LAST THOUGHTS WOULD BE OF THE CORPS, THE CORPS, THE CORPS. THIS FINAL SPEECH CONCLUDED A CAREER OF OVER 60 YEAR.

I saw the movie "Hoosiers" for the umpteenth time tonight. Hickory (Milan in real life) will always be a part of my memory, if God wills. It is presumption of the worst sort to know my last thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, I will recall again the greatest basketball game ever played. Milan Indians 32 and Muncie Central Bearcats 30.  Indiana 1954 State Basketball Champs! Where were you when this game was played?

IN CASE YOU ARE INTERESTED !!!

My Dad is 97 and my wife's Dad is 91. We have not seen them for seven years. Oct 16-18 I can be reached on my cell phone 405-830-8359. 

Might even have a large DQ malt! 

LOVE IN THE AUTUMN YEARS

Yes, this homemade poem is way off the path. However, warm autumn days does strange things to me.

                LOVE IN THE AUTUMN YEARS  

Rush and Hush quietly surrender to Slow and Know

Hallway pictures brightly echo of love from long ago

Once whispered words now fill all rooms in the house

Today, all day, joy is celebrated with my loving spouse 

Kisses are slower, longer; statistically maybe the last

Caresses are fashioned by experience, and not too fast

Our love is always work in progress, never completed

Each chapter our very own and never to be repeated                   

                                             ---- Glenn C. Peck