MAY 22 - MAY 28, 1999
MAY 28, 1999
Let's Sue England!
Good morning. It is 3:33 A.M. There is a nearly
full moon in the western sky and it is 43.0 degrees. Today is the beginning of the
Memorial Day Weekend and it looks like it is going to be a good one, too.
I had an interesting week. I was lost and then I was found. I was
on vacation and then I was not on vacation - I was at a Communities that Care Conference
meeting with other counties as well as people from the Netherlands and Australia.
Even in my absence I seem to keep making headlines. On
Tuesday Jim Buck ran a story reminiscent of the Dick and Jane Series we all learned to
read with when we were in the first grade.
"Did you see Bud?" He asked Jim Weaver.
Jim Weaver said: "No. I haven't seen Bud."
"Audrey Irons said she called Bud, but Bud was not at
home." (Which Audrey says she never said. Did Jim tell a fib?)
On and on the article went, but no one saw Bud. See Jane
jump! See Dick run! Where is Bud?
Then there are the letters to the Editor. Marty admitted that she
violated her rule for publishing letters from frequent writers (do we get frequent pen
miles?) more than once every thirty days when she put the one in from that moron
yesterday. He was in just before May 10th or so, and, speaking of morons, there is
evidently another one waiting in the wings from Jay Chapman when his thirty days expires.
Hell, Marty! Don't make us wait. Go for it! Someone like Mr.
Chapman, as intelligent as he is, and considering he stubbornly cost the Solid Waste
Authority an estimated $350,000 in savings on a bond issue, he needs to be heard. Who
knows what he wants to do now! Don't make us wait any longer than we have to.
Anyway, Communities that Care is a fine concept. It is a
prevention program that I put McKean County in and have managed to bring us about $200,000
so far - give or take $15 to $20 grand either way. It is aimed at Juvenile Delinquency before
it starts. Pretty interesting concept seeing what happened in
Littleton, Colorado a month ago! We've been involved since 1997.
In the meantime, by merging their process into our Family Centers
concept, our programs are already reaching and impacting all of our children, not just the
ones who are already identified as problems.This is evidenced by our successful Teen
Councils and our Peer Mentoring Groups. As over 20 counties networked and shared successes
and failures alike, McKean County was there and stood tall among the best. We can
thank good people like Lee Sizemore and Sue Howard to mention a few for that!
As with all conferences, there are those times when the
networking stops and the interacting begins. Wednesday night at the hotel bar was one of
those times.
I had napped and got a bit of a late start. Members of our group
came in and out with only the hard core positioning themselves at the far end of the bar.
Chris, a young man who is studying Sociology on a Graduate level, was tending bar. I met
him the night before and was impressed with his insight into the problems that
Pennsylvania, as whole body, faces. (That's another column.) Finally there were seven or
so of us and the topic of conversation shifted to one of those bar room no no's. Gun
Control.
Not counting Chris, who was the moderator and referee, there were
two women and five men. One of the women was a lady named Gina Fiske from the State of
Victoria, Melbourne, Australia. She's the one who started the trouble.
"We don't understand your need to own guns,"
she said to me.
At that point, trying not to incite the situation any farther
than it had already gone, I itemized each and every fire arm that I could remember I
owned.
"My loward!" she exclaiming in a heavy Aussie
accent. "That's just ludicrous! Why do you think you need all of those
firearms?" she asked.
"Because they are there and I can!" I said smugly
wrapping myself in the perfect defense of any gun owner - The Second Amendment.
I took the time to recite it for her, word for word, pausing at
certain key points, knowing full well that I was getting invisible credits from Charleton
Heston and Tom Sellick as I did.
She was incredulous. "We come from the same
beginnings," she tried to explain to me. "We started out as a British Colony the
same as America did. We don't have any Second Amendment. I don't understand why you need
one," she said.
That was when it came to me.
In a manner of speaking, Gina Fiske of Melbourne, Australia was
totally correct. We had the same beginning except for one thing. We threw off the rule of
the bloody and oppressive Britts! We fought a revolution so we wouldn't have to name
our cites and our states after some frumpy old woman who was a rich as Bill Gates.
We didn't want to be a colony of anyone who drank tea because we
knew full well, even then, coffee was as American as apple pie. We were going to be coffee
drinkers. That's why we put the tea in Boston Harbor and refused to buy their stupid
stamps. The war was on!
"Australia," I pointed out to Gina Fiske; "Was a
nation of convicts almost from the beginning. They'd been caught. They were the dumb
criminals. Americans, on the other hand, were the criminals who got away. Look at the
Puritans. When the English told them that they couldn't burn witches in the practice of
their religion, the got on the Mayflower and came over here and kept doing it.
American," I insisted. "Were far more intelligent criminals than the Australians
and when push came to shove, when it came down to tea or coffee, we were going to fight.
The Aussies didn't."
And we won, too!
"In winning," I told her. "Americans had an
inherent distrust for government. Any government! It didn't make any difference. We hated
them all even though we recognized that they were necessary evils. For that reason our
founding fathers wrestled with the problem of how to insure that no government ever got
the upper hand like old King George had done. In those wrestling matches and as a
result of them, we got our Bill of Rights.
One of those rights was and is The Right to Keep and Bear
Arms: The Second Amendment to the Constitution
of the United States.
"That," I told Gina Fiske. "Is the reason
so many of us have and keep so many firearms."
Gina wasn't buying it. Neither was Lee, who was the
second half of the two person delegation from McKean County.
The argument kept going on. Nothing I could say seemed to change
the minds of the two women from opposite ends of the globe, not to mention hemispheres,
too. As much as distance may have separated them, they were of like minds and
thoughts. They were inflexible and not nearly as open minded as the five of us who
were attempting to shed the light of day on their narrow line of thinking.
Out of frustration I decided the only course of action
that seemed logical.
We should sue England!
It really is their fault. If they wouldn't have been such
tyrants back in !771 - 1776, we never would have fought a revolution against them. the
fact exists that they were tyrants and because they were and we never would trust a
government again, we needed our Second Amendment with our right to Keep and Bear Arms. It
is all their fault and instead of suing the gun manufacturers, we should sue the British
Crown as an Imperial Nation who, for unknown reasons, failed to fulfill its responsibility
to its Colony (America) and force it to rebel and begin a path that led to where we are
today, the best armed populace in the history of the world!
It's their fault and we should sue.
But, being realistic about the whole thing, just like my
father-in-law, George Walter, always says: "If they'd just pay us what they owe us
from World War I and II, none of us would ever have to work another day the rest of our
lives."
There isn't much chance of that ever happening, but it does make
more sense than suing gun manufacturers.
Comment on this article at rdhedbud@penn.com.
An to Gina and anyone else from the land down under - Gadday mates!
May 27, 1999
Good morning. It is 5:12 A.M.
Sitting at the bar in the Rainbow Inn on a Saturday night is peaceful enough. The
dinner crowd comes in all smiles in anticipation of a good meal. I wave to the people I
know and unless they come over to me, I leave them alone. They are there to have a good
meal, not jaw with me. Generally, unless they have something to say, it is usually just
hello when they enter and goodbye when they leave. Really, that’s good. I can’t
sound stupid unless I open my mouth. This past Saturday night was exactly like that until
those two Indians came in just after nine.
I always know I am in trouble when Chief Cornplanter comes in carrying a newspaper. It
is even more trouble when he has Red Jacket with him. Just from the scowl on
Cornplanter’s face, I could tell my peaceful Saturday night was over.
Cornplanter and Red Jacket are always gentlemen and have the best of manners. Before
approaching me at the bar, they both paid their respects to Aunt Rose, who was sipping
coffee at her table. Then they said hello to Sharyn and discussed briefly the good weather
we were having so early in the year. Red Jacket commented that he remembered a snow storm
on this very date just over a hundred years ago. Then they got around to me.
"What does this mean?" Cornplanter demanded of me.
"It means I am going to be on the ballot as a Democrat," I answered.
"No, not that," the Chief said. "The story next to it. The one about the
environmental groups targeting Willamette. What does that mean?"
I had forgotten how much involved the chief had been in land usage. We had spent many
hours discussing how things came to be the way they are. We have hashed over and over how
there are good points to the way they have developed and many bad points. The chief as he
is very ready to point out, is an authority. According to him, he knows more than any of
the parties on either side of the issue of how the forest is to be used. Really, who am I
to dispute that?
As I prepared to be a politician for once, Cornplanter went right on.
"These are the people who make paper. They provide jobs and do a valuable service
to the people of the world. Am I wrong when I say that?" the chief asked.
"No, you’re not wrong," I said. Before I could continue, Red Jacket
added his two cents worth.
"It’s not about the service that they do," he said. "It is about
the damage that they do at the same time."
"Hey," Cornplanter said. "Just like my old friend, Jeremiah Morrison
used to say: You can’t make corn meal without grinding up the corn. What are they
doing that is so bad?"
Cornplanter had been busy waving his copy of Saturday’s Bradford Era around in my
face. I took the newspaper from him and went to the story.
"These two groups, The Allegheny Defense Project and PROACT, want the state of
Pennsylvania to prohibit Willamette from doing business here any more."
"Why?" Cornplanter asked again. "What have they done that is so
bad?"
Once more, Red Jacket spoke up. "They are poisoning the air when they make
paper," he said. "The white men in Washington and in Harrisburg have passed laws
against it. You aren’t allowed to poison the air any more."
"Then they ought to lock you up," Cornplanter said to Red Jacket. "You
stunk up the whole truck……."
"Not like that," Red Jacket said. "Look! Read the article," he said
to Cornplanter. He took the paper out of my hand and gave it back to the chief.
Cornplanter took the paper and began to read.
"It says that they were in violation of certain environmental regulations and they
corrected the problem. What is so bad about that?"
"Well, it seems they violated the law again, or were being singled out by the
Federal
Government for the same thing the state singled them out for. It really isn’t all
that clear except for the fact that this guy, Linzey, keeps filing with the Attorney
General."
Cornplanter looked at me. "Is he the same Attorney General that you call a sissy
and Elmer Fudd?"
"Yes," I admitted. "That’s him."
Cornplanter laughed. " This is a no brainer. The Attorney General is inspired by
politics, not what’s right. Willamette has nothing to worry about. Even if these
people really had broken major laws, unless this Attorney General fellow could make some
political hay out of it, he won’t touch this with a twenty-one and a half spruce
tree. A year or so from now Willamette will make a generous donation to his political fund
to be elected governor and that will be that. He’ll treat these two groups like the
kooks that they really are."
Red Jacket took exception to Cornplanter calling the two groups kooks. "Think
about what you are saying," he demanded. "Read the story! You don’t have to
agree with everything these people say to see their point on the issue they are making
now. Look!"
Red Jacket began reading from the paper.
"Linzey’s letter says that ‘the EPA has declared that the Johnsonburg
mill does not have a valid emissions permit and is violating the Clean Air Act every day
it continues to operate."
Red Jacket looked up and waited for a response. Cornplanter said nothing. He kept
reading.
"The letter continues to say ‘We believe that these emissions constitute an
imminent, serious, and credible risk to the citizens of Johnsonburg and the surrounding
environment.’ What do you think of that?"
"You can’t make cornmeal without grinding up the corn," he answered.
"What?" Red Jacket asked.
"You heard me," Cornplanter said. "So what? Has anyone died from
this?"
Red Jacket was obviously frustrated at Cornplanter’s indifference. "It’s
going to take someone to die before you care about this company poisoning the air? Is that
what you are telling me? You don’t care any more than that?"
Cornplanter was almost smug as he stood his ground with the fellow war chief.
"Basically, yes," he admitted.
"Why that is the most absurd thing I have ever heard you say. You are the man that
the Mohawk called a woman because you moved your entire village to safety in Tionesta
rather than stand and fight them and endanger the women and children. You are the man who
has always done the best for his people even at the risk to your own safety and good name.
Why now after all these years are you so apathetic and uncaring? What has happened to
you?"
Cornplanter crooked his head in an odd way. I noticed it immediately. It was as if he
was shrugging his shoulders except he was using his head. It was a strange gesture for the
old chief. It keyed me in to what he was about to say just may be very significant.
"This Allegheny Defense Project, these are the same people who are shutting down
the logging in the National Forest." He knew the answer but he still looked at me for
confirmation.
"Yes," I said. "They’re the ones."
"These people don’t care who they hurt," he said. "What’s
happening in Kane already now that the cutting in the forest has been stopped? People are
already starting to suffer. They depend on the work to be able to feed their families. Now
the work has stopped. What are they supposed to do?"
No one answered. Cornplanter continued.
"I had the first logging company in this area. The Quakers and I went into
business. They built my saw mill for me and we shared the money. I used the money from
cutting the hemlocks to build schools for my people. Because of that money, many of our
brightest young men got to go to Philadelphia and learn in the best schools and come back
to teach their people what they learned. Good things came out of cutting the trees. They
still do."
"Cornplanter went on. "The forest today is different from the forest we had
then. Those were giant hemlock trees. They were hundreds of years old. Nothing grew in
that forest because the trees blocked the sunlight. It wasn’t a good forest like this
one and it is good only because we cut the old one down. We cut it down twice and each
time it grows back better than what it was the time before. Each time it comes back it
does with more animals and game. What is bad about that? What is bad about cutting down
dead trees?
"These people are really missing what goes on here. Black Cherry trees are not
like hemlocks. They don’t live forever. They rot from the inside out and then they
fall down. Once they start to rot they aren’t any good to anyone. What are you
supposed to do with a rotten tree? I just don’t understand what is in their
heads."
"That’s just one issue," Red Jacket said. "The issue about the
poison in the air is totally different one. What about that?"
"What about it?" Cornplanter asked back. "The one issue takes over in
place of the other one. I can’t support these people for clean air when they are
hurting people and their children in a much more immediate and direct way than putting
chemicals into the air. I am sure that they have the best of intentions, but they
don’t have the right to ruin an entire town just because they don’t want trees
to be cut down. No," Cornplanter said. "I can’t go along with them.
It’s as simple as that."
The two Indians were at odds. It wasn’t the first time and I am sure it would not
be the last. Fortunately for me, I wasn’t forced to take a stand. If I had been, Red
Jacket would have been disappointed. I side with Cornplanter on this one.
Comment on this article at rdhedbud@penn.com.
MAY 26, 1999
Here I am
Good morning. Judging from yesterday's headline, I guess Jim Buck
missed me. Maybe Larry Stratton is the only commissioner allowed to take time off, too.
Funny how everyone forgets and strange how people don't look at desk calendars,
either. In March I had told everyone that once I voted on May 18th Sharyn and I were going
away. Sharyn took vacation. (The hospital isn't like the Court House where people just
decide the day before and don't show up.) She asked for it well in advance. We made
reservations and we made plans. When Mr. Stratton announced that he was going on another
missionary trip I saw no reason to change my plans to take the next week and a half off.
However, when I was told that the week of May 24 - May 28 was crucial for the
funding of the Family Centers, I did change my plans. At the risk of being less than
humble, it was crucial that I attend the conference that I am at this very moment.
It's pretty obvious that Family Centers don't get votes. Mr. Buck who is now
desperately seeking Bud accused us of teaching welfare women to cook shrimp scampi.
Nonetheless, Terry Tessina and I developed the countywide concept in the spring of
1996 and a whole lot of arm twisting, begging, and bargaining brought Mr. Stratton and Mr.
Weaver around to give their tentative support. Still, when there was a problem, when
someone's toes were stepped on, when an empire was placed in danger, when anything
happened, it was and still is my responsibility to keep things on track and solve the
problem.
That I've done, and I have done it well. I have no
apologies and no regrets. Even when Era writer George Petrisek smelled
mouthwash on my breath and accused me of drinking (which was a blatant falsehood) at a
family center, I stayed the course and the program went forward. Why?
Because it works! It teaches children who are parents how
to deal with their own children. The schools used to do that but now with School
Teachers' contracts and Building Programs and everything except education, our
young adults are somehow cheated and not
taught the need lessons in living. That is not only a shame, it is a travesty.
Today I am here to see that our funding stays in place
and the centers stay open one more year.
Really, almost everyone admits that Smethport was a pretty dull
place before I came on the scene. It was so because no one knew what was going on.
As a result the county nearly went bankrupt. Which brings me around
to something else I do that also doesn't get votes. Write Budgets that balance and are
fiscally sound without ever raising taxes.
What would The Era do without me? Last year I
had more headlines than Bill Clinton and I never had an intern named Monica.
Believe me, I am no politician. If I was I never would have
tackled some of the issues I did. I would have told the people what they wanted to hear,
not what they needed to know. I always felt that is what's wrong in Harrisburg and
Washington. We always find out after the fact, not in advance. Our
representatives represent the party and not us. We count least when we should count
most. The people be damned! Let them pay more taxes.
Still, when I said something, it was news and it was never
forgotten. My issues were permanent, not frivolous like Animal Bashing or Low Level
Nuclear Waste Dumps. Even after I am gone the issues will still remain and Mr. Bucks
successors will point to the fact that Harold Beck told us so and it happened.
Jim Buck didn't care one bit that there was no quorum at
the Monday meeting. He could care less that there won't be a meeting for a whole
month either. The people don't care either. It is news when I am not present.
That is the only significance.
What he really wants are my comments on first losing and
then winning the election.
Fred Gallup, the slime ball attorney who represents the Bradford
Area School District, said it best in his short but sweet letter to the editor on
Thursday, May 20th. "Democracy works!" Ecky, my
drinking buddy from the Bradford Hotel also put it pretty good: "Bud Beck his own
worst enemy." Personally, I would have used a comma after my name but who can blame The
Era for poor punctuation when they can't even use spell check properly.
I come from a politically mixed family. My mother
is a Democrat and my father was a Republican. Her family has been and still is a
long line of union workers (Auto Workers, Coal Miners, Electrical Workers) and my dad,
before becoming a police officer was a Teamster. I grew up with 15 month long
strikes and families scratching just to survive and never making back what they lost with
what they gained. The unions today don't understand what came before them and the
sacrifices that were made for them. Non-union workers don't understand that what
they have they got on the backs of the unions. I am no novice when it comes to the
working man. I not only understand, I appreciate what goes on. I see the
inequities but like everyone else, don't have any answers. I can only write about
them which is more that what most do. Think about it!
It is very unlikely that when Mr. Buck reads this, or is told of
this, that I will get the same ink that I got when I was nowhere to be found. I
still haven't answered the questions that are burning in him. I just found out that
I am in Court on June 2nd. I guess I should take some time and prepare. In the meantime, I
am alive and well and tending to the business of McKean County just as I always have. Have
a good day.
Comment on this article at rdhedbud@penn.com.
MAY 25, 1999
The lighter side of things
Good morning. It is 5:35 A.M.
I am told that the Bradford Area School District has proposed raising taxes by
4 mills effective July 1, 1999.
Now what is the increase for? Is it for George Evans so he can have a new car?
Maybe it is so George can get an office and stop working out of his own home. Good
work if you can get it. Roll out of bed, check the news, have a cup of coffee, and kick
back and see what statements you have to make today. Just so the check keeps coming in,
who cares?
Oh well, enough of that. From our buddy Chris McGonnell we received this:
Subject: Kind of like the old "who's on first" with a twist.....
Costello: Hey, Abbott!
Abbott: Yes, Lou?
Costello: I just got my first computer.
Abbott: That's great, Lou. What did you get?
Costello: A Pentium II-266, with 40 Megs of RAM, a 2.1 Gig hard drive, and a
24X CD-ROM.
Abbott: That's terrific, Lou.
Costello: But I don't know what any of it means!
Abbott: You will in time.
Costello: That's exactly why I'm here to see you.
Abbott: Oh?
Costello: I heard that you're a real computer expert.
Abbott: Well, I don't know ...
Costello: Yes-sir-EE. You know your stuff. And you're going to train me.
Abbott: Really?
Costello: Uh huh. And I am here for my first lesson.
Abbott: O.K. Lou. What do want to know?
Costello: I am having no problem turning it on, but I heard that you should be very
careful how you turn it off.
Abbott: That's true.
Costello: So, here I am working on my new computer and I want to turn it off. What do I
do?
Abbott: Well, first you press the Start button, and then ...
Costello: No, I told you I want to turn it off.
Abbott: I know, you press the Start button ...
Costello: Wait a second. I want to turn it Off. I know how to start it. So tell me ...
Abbott: I did.
Costello: When?
Abbott: When I told you to press the Start button.
Costello: Why should I press the Start button?
Abbott: To shut off the computer.
Costello: I press Start to stop?
Abbott: Well, Start doesn't actually stop the computer.
Costello: I knew it! So what do I press?
Abbott: Start.
Costello: Start what?
Abbott: Start button.
Costello: Start button to do what?
Abbott: Shut down.
Costello: You don't have to get rude!
Abbott: No, no, no! That's not what I meant.
Costello: Then say what you mean.
Abbott: To shut down the computer, press ...
Costello: Don't say, "Start!"
Abbott: Then what do you want me to say?
Costello: Look, if I want to turn off the computer, I am willing to press the Stop button,
the End button and Cease and Desist button, but no one in their right mind presses the
Start to Stop.
Abbott: But that's what you do.
Costello: And you probably Go at Stop signs, and Stop at green lights.
Abbott: Don't be ridiculous!
Costello: I'm being ridiculous? Well, I think it's about time we started
this conversation.
Abbott: What are you talking about?
Costello: I am starting this conversation right now. Good-bye.
Kind of like dealing with the school board, isn't it?
Comment on this article at rdhedbud@penn.com.
MAY 24, 1999
Asbestos and apathy
Good morning. It is 56.1 degrees at 5:45 A.M. Just so there is no
question, it is who you think it is writing this column and this is no canned
presentation. It is live before this studio audience so to speak.
The internet is an interesting place. It is a mirror of what is happening
in the world. It gives us an untold amount of information, maybe sometimes more than
what we really need. Still, it is an excellent way to communicate and an excellent way to
reach people with a message or entertainment.
However, that does depend on where you live and the particular audience for whom you
perform.
While internet readership of this column climbs daily, it has certainly peaked
here in my home county. Even my attempts to publish this page as the printed version
of The Mountain Laurel Review seem to have failed. Perhaps a daily dose of
me just may have been a little too much.
My mother-in-law recently told me that she like the old magazine better.
My brother asked me where The Cornplanter Chronicles were.
A lady in The Downbeat Restaurant was still reading an issue that was two months old.
She didn't have time to keep up with the volume of material I was producing.
As much as I tried not to change, and I didn't, the magazine did. The
smaller print made it difficult and often next to impossible to differentiate between
Letters and my writing. That individual part of the magazine ceased to exist.
The magazine was no longer entertaining and informative, it was just informative.
The magazine became too tedious for our audience to read. They had better things to do
with their time. I had forgotten my major premise of making a story just long enough to
make it through a person's daily function. (That's putting it as best I can without
belaboring the point.)
My enemies at The Bradford Era and the radio station had it all over me. While
I had to actually write, they had headlines and one liners. While I showed respect
for the intelligence of my readers; they had disdain and scorn. They treated them as
ignoramuses and in many times, in the heat of living their lives, gave the manipulators of
the news exactly what they wanted and expected.
The asbestos issue is a perfect example.
The Bradford Era and radio station WESB-AM have not reported the full story of
the asbestos at Bradford Area High School. In the light of evidence and people
prepared to give sworn testimony, they looked the other way. Why?
The answer is buried in the paragraph I just wrote.
My enemies at The Bradford Era and the radio station had it all over me. While
I had to actually write, they had headlines and one liners. While I showed respect
for the intelligence of my readers; they had disdain and scorn. They treated them as
ignoramuses and in many times, in the heat of living their lives, gave the manipulators of
the news exactly what they wanted and expected.
They gave them the apathy that the media expected! They all lived down to the
lowest expectations of the very people who have always manipulated and used them. They
proved them right and me wrong.
Tonight is a School Board Meeting. Tonight the School Board will vote to raise school
taxes to an all time record high. Tonight no one will voice any objection. Why?
The band needs money.
The track team needs money.
The baseball team needs money.
And, if anyone objects to the increase, the first things to be cut will be the
extra-curricular activities.
It is unlikely that anyone will bring up the asbestos issue. That was
handled at the last meeting; and while the little fish hooks of asbestos just may be
imbedded in the bodies of the band members and the track team, not to mention the rest of
the student body, the money for new uniforms will take center stage.
While the young bodies of the children may be trying to expel the invisible
particles of asbestos that they may have unknowingly ingested as they took in air, their
parents will be too busy to attend the School Board Meeting and demand answers. They will
be at home watching television. For them the asbestos issue is dead and will only mildly
complain when the new tax bills arrive in July.
The people don't care and the media knows it.
They have known about it for a long time, too. They can stir the people up for a moment
or two, but not longer than that. Prime time television or a softball game or whatever is
more important than things that they openly admit they have no control over.
What are they supposed to do about their children being exposed to asbestos? All of us
were exposed at one time or another is the standard answer. And that's right, and that
just may be why so many of us have all these unexplained cancers that we are slowly dying
of.
It is easier to ignore what happened than to demand accountability. It's
easier to worry about what you are going to make for dinner tonight than what health
problem is now in the future of your teenage child. It is just easier to pretend that I am
full of crap and none of this ever happened. Yes. It is just easier.
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MAY 22 - 23, 1999
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