
How did this happen?
I don't entirely agree with those who say Hollywood has groomed us for this. There have been plenty of black presidents in movies and television during the past 20 years or so. Morgan Freeman played one in the movie Deep Impact. The TV drama 24 always seems to elect a black president. Even the child actor Sammy Davis Jr. had once played an eight year old President Rufus Jones way back in the early days of cinema. Oh, and then there is my favorite, President Duane Elizondo Moutain Dew Herbert Comacho (below) in the hilarious futuristic, Idiocracy. If you haven't seen
Idiocracy, add it to your netflix queue today.

Norman Lear's fueds between Archie Bunker and his neighbor, George Jefferson in the long running sitcom
All in the Family probably had more to do with Obama's election than 24 or Deep Impact. If some movies and sitcoms helped, other shows probably had potential to hurt a black man's chances of getting elected. Hollywood probably cancels itself out. Wouldn't guys like Fifty Cent and Flavor Flav negate the more positive influence of black characters played by Morgan Freeman or Bill Cosby? ---which begs the question why does
DL Hughley even have a show?
Come to think of it, Sir Isaac Newton could have predicted Obama's election. Remember the third law of Physics? Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Eight years of GW's moronic "you're either with us or against us" policies are what elected Barack Obama. Recently, many have asked what will be George Bush's legacy? The answer is simple. The election of Barack Obama is George W. Bush's legacy. Instead of a dimwit divider, we've got an intellegent uniter as a President. According to Newton's law, we can predict Obama will remain in the White House for the next 20 years or so.
This great moment in American History causes me to reflect upon my youth on a farm in western PA. Like the butterfly that changed the course of a hurricane half a world away, maybe Mom and Dad had all those years ago, started
a little something when they adopted my youngest sisters, a Canadian Indian daughter, Lana; and later a Korean daughter, Judy Mi Yung. Bringing a Canadian Indian into Jordan Township and into an all white school district forced our little corner of rural America to welcome other races into the community. Of course, Lana and Judy were only two teaspoons of water added to the great white ocean. And I cannot ignore the fact that 30 years later, McCain handedly won Jordan Township ---and Clearfield County. But Obama easily won Pennsylvania, despite predictions to the contrary, by Governor Rendell and Congressman John Murtha, that a black man couldn't win here. Murtha even called his own constituency, western PA, a rural and backward place populated with uneducated bigots, racists and rednecks.
There may have been plenty, but I really don't recall many instances of overt racism against Lana or Judy. Lana came along a few years earlier, and probably had to deal with the ignorance more than Judy. I think there were a few elementary school teachers who treated Lana a little differently. A first grade teacher, Mrs. Hughes comes first to mind, but it has been so long that my memory fails to come up with specifics. Mom or Lana might be able to remember. Any additional input here would be greatly appreciated.

There were a few little things though, like the way our elderly neighbor, Harold Parks used to refer to Lana as "the little coon girl". I remember he used to tease me about how I liked to play in the ditch across the road. Suzanne and Lana used to come along too. After a rain it was most fun, floating little sticks through the "big rapids" all the way to Stone Creek. I suspect Harold was amused by the fact that we were splashing around in the same water to which his septic system leached, but that's another story.
Harold's referring to Lana with such colorful language came not out of hatred or racism, so much as it probably came from the discomfort with the idea, that in all his 75 or 80 years, Harold never had to interact with anyone of a different color than his own. Through no doing of his own, Harold's world had been de-segregrated, and he never even had to get on a bus.
Like many western Pennsylvanians, Harold had worked as a coal miner. He spent a significant percentage of his daylite hours lugging shovels and picks and props through the dangerous, damp, cold and dark underground shafts. Many of his spare hours were probably spent scrubbing the black dust off his skin. How can anyone hold a grudge against someone whose lungs sucked coal dust so to heat the homes of his fellow man? He may have been a redneck, but he was no racist. Harold was such a fan of the Pittsburgh Pirates, (the
only team in MLB history to field a team completely with minority players. Maybe then manager Danny Murtaugh helped to elect President Obama?), that he nicknamed his grandson, "Chico"---the same name Pirate announcer Bob Prince had given to Hall of Famer, Roberto Clemente. I suspect he thought it was a pretty neat thing to have Lana, an American Indian living next door. I like to think he and his wife Helen jabbered away with Sunday visitors over coffee, tea and those chalk flavored pink bismuth candies they used to eat. "Oh, just let me tell you about the adorable little coon who moved in next door. When she comes outside to play in the ditch, you can see her from our house! "
Years later, during Harrisburg Farm Show week, at Grandpap's annual Pennsylvania Potato Growers banquet , I remember sitting around a large round table set with white table cloth and a confounding arrangement of silverware. I don't remember who was there exactly, but Grandma, Grandpap, Aunt Dorothy, Suzanne and Lana were there I am pretty sure. Gladys and Norman and their boys may have been there too. Seating arrangements were that we shared the table with a few other potato growers. As an ice breaker, Grandpap prompted Lana, who was probably about seven years old at the time, "Tell them what you are." I've often thought about that day, and wondered why Grandpap felt obligated to explain the color of Lana's skin. Was prompting a little girl to explain to a group of adult strangers, why her skin was darker than theirs, a politically incorrect thing to do? I contend it was just the opposite.
"I'm an Indian," Lana muttered shyly.
I give good credit to Grandpap who wanted to teach Lana to speak proudly of her heritage. He knew more about native Americans than what he gathered from 17 seasons of Gunsmoke Monday nights. On potato deliveries with him, he shared plenty of stories about the Osceola Indians, and he often talked about the other local Indian settlements in Chinclacamoose (now Clearfield) and arrow heads he found plowing in the meadow. Grandpap had insisted that Lana tell the world that she was indeed "an Indian," because he was also proud of her heritage, and proud to have his fellow potato farmers welcome her to the table. Thinking back to the banquet, most of us probably sympathized with Lana during what seemed an awkward moment. But, I think it was the right thing to do. I wish I could remember the responses of those other potato farmers who shared the table with us. I'm sure they were congenial, but probably strange for them too.
As far as Judy's run-ins with ignorance go, I can only recall that the school district figured that if a six year old couldn't speak English, she must have been mentally handicapped. So they enrolled her in remedial education classes and signed her up for the Special Olympics. Everyone was happy when she faired quite well in the competitions against genuinely handicapped children from other schools.
About the only other thing I remember from those days was that Judy was mean to our dogs, presumably because she believed they should have been tied up at a meat market, rather than running free or welcomed into the house. I also recall that Judy liked to sing
My Darling Clementine in Korean.
If you wonder why this post seems to have gone aimlessly on from President Obama to Comacho to Danny Murtaugh to Harold Parks and Flavor Flav, I'll use the excuse and remind my dear reader, that the butterfly effect is based in chaos theory, and is highly sensitive to location and natural conditions of the time. I'm not a mathematician, so I cannot explain it, but to say that we are all connected and even the McCain stronghold of Jordan township can play, and has played a part in the change.
PPU SOFTBALL NOTEBOOK and Adeu to Updike:
Natika's been selling Pizzas and cookie dough to earn money for her softball Spring training trip to Florida next month. Thanks to everyone who purchased she can afford to go. This should be an exciting season for her, as she enters the year as the fourth outfielder. With only three upperclasswomen, and several freshmen girls vying for the starting outfield positions, this should be an exciting season for Natika, as she enters the season as the fourth outfielder. Her speed and excellent defensive skills should help get her into a lot more games than last year. Her roommate and best friend Lindsey is the star shortstop. Together they work out regularly in the batting cages. Natika claims her hitting has improved a great deal. I spoke to her earlier this week, and she is very confident of earning a starting position.
For my money, John Updike was the best writing stylist of our time. I liked
Poorhouse Fair,
Rabbit Run,
Rabbit is Rich, and more recently
The Terrorist.
The Ex-Basketball Player is one of my favorite poems. He also penned a
memorable essay about Ted Williams homerun in his final at bat. I was sad to learn of this great genius from Pennsylvania's passing from lung cancer this week.