One Man's Journey - Grandpa My Guide

My Grandpa Thomas Adolph King - My Hero

With my own father, I could never connect with his journey. He mostly journeyed away from his own father's legacy and from his home town, which for a headstrong over-active male in the late 40s was anywhere but his one-church college town and the faith of his father. He was more influenced by his mother and his mother's people who were more like him. Impulsive, stubborn, prideful Scots-Indians. His father (my grandfather) was a quiet hard-working studious man who deferred to my strong-willed grandmother in almost all things. We grandkids loved him, but looked to my grandmother for any decisions about family matters. She was the axis about which we all rotated. She was for my dad too. He looked to the rowdy, disruptive McClure clan for his example rather than to his strong, quiet father, the culmination of a line of schoolteachers, preachers and farmers for his guides.  

Grandpa & Dad

He later came to respect my grandfather, but by then he'd been to prison, fought a lifetime addiction to tobacco and alcohol (all things his own dad's family heartily disapproved of). In Grandpa's family 3 of the 4 siblings left their father's faith and went a-roving in the manner of my grandmother's clan, although the girls especially were always respectful and loving with their quiet, patient father. But it was my powerful grandmother who, in spite of her tacit acceptance of her adopted faith, remained independent of the King family culture and very much bound to the culture in which she'd grown up. This was despite her old wounds at how she was treated by her own clan.

My grandfather was my de facto male mentor. My Dad abandoned my Mom and his 3 kids when I was five. My grandfather, however, never wavered in his love for us. We remained close to Grandpa and by association, to my stern Scots grandmother.  My father went his own way, pursuing his own goals and dreams and left us largely to the care of others. I forgave him as I got older, though my grandmother could never figure out what Dad had done that I should forgive him for it. Mom remarried and I never really bonded with my step father though I learned to appreciate him. He was from somewhere else and on some other journey that did not include me. With my 4 half siblings by him, and my Dad's two kids and step daughter by the woman he got pregnant and ran off with, there were 10 of us total, divided between two widely separated houses. At the age of 52, Dad had a heart attack (he was a 4 pack a day smoker), fell off the wagon (AA for 15 years), and my step-mother ambushed him when he came home from work drunk one day. She shot him through the chest with his own shotgun. Dad's journey ended on the floor of his living room while my step-mom waited for him to die before calling 911.

I felt sorry for Dad. I wrote a poem for his funeral in which I said, "He was a fisherman, in a world unkind to fishermen some times." I'm not sure why I wrote that, but it seemed right to me somehow. His legacy was never mine. Unlike Abram's father, mine did not settle. He went off on his own way. Neither father figure had been the sort I was able to make a legacy journey with. I needed to complete my own journey. I chose my own father figures to guide me. My paternal grandpa was the first of all.  My maternal grandpa left my mother and grandmother when she was young to run off with a younger model and left behind an abandoned family that, thanks to my maternal grandmother, remained true to our faith. Her children scattered like missionaries from Texas to California. Grampie lived his own life, much like my Dad did, aloof and distant from his kids. Visiting my Grampie Bell was like a visit to a foreign country. I recognized few of the characteristics of the home and the family I loved and grew up with.

I read books and chose male mentors to model how to be a man and a father.  King Arthur, Robin Hood, Captain Blood, Captain Horatio Hornblower and others. They all shared one thing. They were men on a mission. They fought with stubborn honor and integrity for what they believed was right. They were leaders and wise ones and that's what I attempted to be. My Uncle Bobby, a pastor and church leader was an influence. He stood for what was right, even when he had to oppose powerful church leaders he believed were doing wrong to the churches that were his job to care for and defend.  

Mom the way I
remember her best.

I have to mention my mother here in speaking of my journey to manhood. She was a tough prairie bird, raised on the High Plains in New Mexico. She was an athlete, gymnast and the kindest person I know. She was the perfect Mom for boys who were hyper, inquisitive and short on attention span for most things. She gave me books early. I found I could focus on those and became a voracious reader, one of the reasons so many of my male role models were fictitious characters. She let my brother and I run free, but with very clear limits. She wasn't very tall, but the woman could swing a belt when need be and believe me there were lots of times when it needed to be. Her endless patience and unflagging quiet support was as much an influence on how I turned out as a man as any of the actual men in my life, if not more.

As a result of all the good examples of faith, patience and tenacity, I've gone down with more than one ship in my time. I don't regret a single one. Often what seemed like failures at the time were doors to something else God wanted me to do.  I worked with abused, mentally ill and neglected children, people with disabilities, seniors, low income families, youth groups - basically anyone that seemed to need a defender.  I am deeply grateful to all of the people and organizations that have stepped up to aid me in my fight over the years. I especially am grateful to all of you, to Kathy, Fred and Dawn, Sheila and Glenn, Sam and Mark, Hutch and the others who have  befriended me, helped and guided me and showed me how to do what I was able to do right up until I couldn't do it anymore. From you guys I learned much. With your help, I was able to do some real good for real people. I'm kind of proud of that.

I'm still teaching on occasion (most recently night ESL classes with Chinese kids). I'm physically disabled with crippling arthritis from abusing my muscles and bones over the years. I always felt I was on a mission from God. Some of that may have come from having missed receiving any kind of legacy journey or direction from my father and from who I chose as my role models. From my Grandpa King, I got patience and devotion to my own family. From King Arthur I received a willingness to use might for right even though you may only get that "one brief shining moment" out of the struggle before it all collapses around you. From Robin Hood, I learned that just because someone has power, they aren't necessarily worthy of your obedience. You can do what is right in spite of them. I once got an angry letter from a very important person over one of my crusades. I've always been rather proud of that. Captain Blood, went to war on his own hook, because he refused to be slave to a tyrant. Captain Hornblower appealed to me because he was a smart leader who made the system work despite it's fundamental flaws and because of who he was - in the heat of battle, cool-headed and courageous. In the eleven Hornblower books, CS Forester, the author, traced the growth and career of Horatio Hornblower from midshipman to admiral. I learned much about leadership that I was able to apply in my own career.

From my sweet wife, I learned order. She helped me by bringing her formidable organizational skills and her stunning competence at everything she put her hand to. She kept me going through good times and bad. She taught me to enjoy life when things were going well and to pray hard and endure when they weren't.

To all hose friends who helped me, stood by me or gave me an "attaboy" as they passed along the way, I say, "Keep up the good work." Folk like all of you play an essential role in keeping all those knights in dull and dented armor going out there on the front lines in the war on apathy, indifference, poverty, ignorance, and self-righteousness. God bless you for that.

© 2020 by Tom King

Does Anyone Else Have a Dream?

I was watching an episode of Right Angle the other day.  In it, Bill Whittle pointed out that America is the only nation in the world that has a dream.  There is no Chinese Dream, no Italian Dream, no British Dream, no Russian dream not even an Indian Dream in a land where mysticism rules. There is only The American Dream.

You could define the American Dream as having the opportunity to work hard, build something for yourself that is yours and nobody else's, to raise a family and to have some fun along the way. That's pretty much it. It's a plain and simple dream, but it's only possible in a nation where the state serves its people rather than the people serving the state. Even the one nation closest in philosophy to our own - Great Britain - It is by charter a nation which grants civil rights to it's people. Actually the queen is technically the one who bestows the blessings of liberty on her people.

In America, we the people let some duly elected officials pretend to be in charge of us, but in the end there's not a one of them we cannot depose without violence, bloodshed or even a great big effort. All we have to do is vote out any of the bums we don't like. I rather think we don't do that often enough, but it's there if one of them gets too big for his or her britches and pisses us off!

There is only one other nation that I can think of that can be said to have a coherent dream. Their dream is very similar to the American Dream. That nation is Mexico and their dream is to get across the border into America and have the opportunity to work hard, build something for themselves that is theirs and nobody else's, to raise a family and to have some fun along the way. That's pretty much their dream and it's a carbon copy of our own.

I love the scene above from "Born in East LA". Wouldn't it be grand if all these guys were educated, English-speaking, Republicans. And one day Democrats were to look up to see thousands of Mexicans with job prospects, green cards and and the autobiography of Ronald Reagan tucked under their arms, coming over the hills and already signed up to vote Republican! It might look something like this. If it didn't I would certainly organize something like this just to get them all in the mood to be an American!!!!

I think we should get organized and let everyone of those folks who dream of America come on in. Not illegally, but legally. If they are not doing well in Mexico, we should provide a way for them to learn the English language. Perhaps we could host free pre-migration English language classes in our embassies and consulates all over Mexico. Offer online or correspondence classes so that at least everyone who crosses has a basic education and maybe some technical certification so they can get a job. If Mexico is going to bleed off its surplus population, let's help them do that, only let's take the best of their people, the ones that were born Americans in their hearts, even though they might have grown up oppressed and impoverished. We need people with a work ethic, who are willing to work at it.

Heck, we could even trade some hard-working Mexicans for some of these worthless snowflakes of ours that are a drag on the system. Set them on the beaches in Cancun and put them on the "no-fly" list so they can't get back. It would be a kind of exchange student program. We take one Hispanic immigrant and we drop off a snowflake in his or her place. One rule though. If the immigrants don't learn anything they go back home (or in the case of the snowflakes, if they don't learn anything they stay there).

The Republican Party should offer potential Mexican immigrants to the US an orientation program in consulates in the border towns and at the immigration check points. The classes would explain how we share their values of family, the sanctity of life, freedom of religion and opportunity. Can you imagine what a howl we'd hear from our leftist friends in the Democrat Party?  We should just do it quietly and don't tell Pelosi and Schumer until we've imported a couple of million or so Republican Hispanic immigrants and it's too late.

We might even get Ted Cruz and Dan Crenshaw elected president and vice-president. It could happen. Bring some muy macho into the White House. We should at least write a bill and some funding to create real live freedom loving, fire-breathing, educated and trained out of the folk Everett McKinley Dirksen called "your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free..." Several dozen teachers assigned to our embassies and consulates in Central America could generate for us an ambitious, hard-working shot in the arm for our culture which day by day is being degraded by progressivism trained lazy victim culture. We are getting some of that kick in the economic pants from stray born-to-be Americans coming from India and China and other places where they have schools worth their salt. What fun that would be if we could help our Mexican neighbors, who dream even more desperately of coming to el Norte, to find their way to the home that should be theirs!

© by Tom King

Jazz Up Your Resume When You Go Job-Hunting After CoVid-19

© 2020 by Tom King

Chinese Grandmas Spring Into Action

As some of you know, I teach English language classes to Chinese kids at night. Lately, I've had a very full schedule. The coronavirus is sweeping through China and the schools are closed all over. The kids are restless because their parents are keeping them inside all day. I'm making more money than I did last year as more and more parents are putting their kids in online classes like mine. Some seem to be putting their kids in classes for punishment. Those are always fun classes. Anyway the group classes are particularly exciting and by the end of the night, I'm pretty well pooped out.

Working with the kids, I find they are pretty spooked. Because they can't leave the house, the schools are pretty much all shut down throughout February, and they have limited contact with their peers in real-time, the kids are very much aware that something bad is happening. I have to be careful not to encourage them to talk about it lest I fall afoul of Chinese authorities.

So how are two-income Chinese families taking care of the little ones while they are at work? Daycare's are terrifying and leaving them altogether with a friend exposes them to the same threats as they can't be sure someone entering the friend's home isn't infected.

Into the breach springs the Chinese grandmas. When you think of grandmas in America, you think of kindly white-haired ladies who spoil their grandkids shamelessly. But these ladies who have moved in with their children to care for the grandkids are by no means American grandmas. Based on what I get from the kids in bits and pieces, Chinese grandmas tend to be tough, no-nonsense taskmasters. Some of the kids are a bit afraid of them. I've also noticed that my late evening classes have stopped altogether. Apparently grandma makes the kids go to bed earlier than Mom and Dad did.

All that said, these stiff-spined seniors are doing their bit to prevent the spread of this hideous disease among Chinese kids. It's pretty scary out there and the kids know it. One of my 4 year olds told me yesterday, "All Chinese people sick!" when he was telling me how he had to stay inside the house all day. It's indicative of the seriousness of the outbreak that children who are being protected from the news by their parents, still have picked up on the seriousness of the epidemic. Stories coming out of Communist China tell of hundreds of bodies a day coming through hospital morgues - far more than the 500-800 deaths being reported by the Chinese politburo. One of my children told me the virus came from people eating bugs and bats and "bad things". Evidently the kids are being warned to be careful what they eat. That story has been poo-pooed by some leftist pundits lately, but apparently it's a rumor being spread across China enough that the kids have picked it up.

The fact that schools across China are closed all this month according to the kids, gives you an idea of how bad it is. Chinese schools don't do snow days or close for anything more than national holidays, and then rather reluctantly. You should see the homework these guys take home on holidays!

Whether the disease breaks loose or not, especially among the youth of China, might just depend on this army of tough women and their tenacity in keeping their descendants safely corralled until the emergency is over.

God bless those brave Chinese grandmas!

© 2019 by Tom King