Every year, I make a list of the things I read – books, long articles, graphic novels – and share them. Hopefully, you will find something interesting to read here and expand your mind.
To make it easier in case you don’t like one type of reading, I created sections for each type of reading and then listed in the order I read them.
On November 4, 2017, a letter to the editor from local resident John Gable spurred controversy in our town. It was vitriolic. I wrote about how we are better than this. Many of my friends and acquaintances would not agree with the racism, bigotry, and general hate of the “other” that has been occurring in the country.
But those feelings of hate have always been there, under the surface, and it’s rising. Apparently, we aren’t better than this and we need to talk about it.
I woke up to my community in despair on Saturday. A letter to the editor in the local paper, the paper where I work at as a reporter, was causing a stir.
The letter, which many people have spread, can be seen below in the screenshot from the Scotts Bluff County Democrats. It is full of hate and ignorance. Its words make me want to leave this town, but I have spent two days thinking about where to go from here.
Let’s just get this out of the way. Papa John’s isn’t proper pizza. Neither is Pizza Hut or Domino’s, or Godfather’s. Don’t even get me started on the abomination that is Valentinos. They wouldn’t know Italian food if it smacked them in the face.
Sam and Louie’s comes close but they don’t have that great morning after taste that proper New York pizza does. Domino’s Brooklyn Style is similar to proper pizza but isn’t quite there. So, until there is a Star Trek transporter that can get me to the Caldor Plaza so I can pick up some Colandrea Pizza, I rarely eat pizza out here in the hinterlands of western Nebraska.
Far too many people are caught up in speculation about the end of the world. While we are doing a good job at ignoring actual climate change, the hurricanes currently ravaging parts of Earth are not the end of the world, nor do they have anything to do with Jesus Christ, the book of Revelation, or any other such nonsense. Yet, in a letter to the editor to the Star-Herald, a reader thinks that is exactly what is happening.
Every year, thousands of libraries across the nation celebrate Banned Books Week. The week highlights books that have been challenged in some way because someone didn’t like the content within. They feel compelled to make sure no one else can discover the stories within its pages solely because they did not like the content.
This year, the top ten books on the American Library Association’s list have been challenged for a variety of reasons, including, profanity. They all have been challenged due to something LGBT related.
Halfway around the world, most people have probably never heard of Banned books week, but they know the value of knowledge. Last week, ABC News in Australia reported that thousands of books from the Mosul university library were rescued after Daesh destroyed the library.
At the World Trade Center memorial in New York City, roses of different colors are placed in a person’s name each year on their birthday.
In the 1980s and 1990s, whenever you went to the airport, your family and friends went with you to the gate. They would embarrass you with hugs and kisses before you began your journey down the gangway and into the plane.
The cockpit door was sometimes open. People could drop in on long flights and get a quick tour. I once watched the sun rise from the cockpit.
Then, on September 11, 2001, everything changed. We gave into the fear of an attack on our country.
On a bright, sunny morning when President George W. Bush told us “you’re either with us or you’re against us,” I knew our fate was sealed. In that moment, I became “against us.”
The road wasn’t as busy as I had thought it would be at 5 a.m. I suppose it’s because several people traveled up to agate Fossil Beds National Monument the night before and many more came later in the day.
About 10 miles before the park, cars, trucks and RVs dotted the sides of the road. They were all out of state vehicles. Most were pulled off the road and parked against fences. The fences are to keep livestock in. It doesn’t mean it’s free land to park your car or pitch your tent. But they did so anyway.
It angered me in a way. It’s great that people travel from places far away to see an eclipse at a great site, but disrespecting others and their land rubs me the wrong way.
Later in the day, I heard one gentleman say, “We’re so far out in the middle of nowhere, the owners, if there even are any, probably wouldn’t have seen us anyway.”
I was wearing my Star-Herald polo shirt and I was working. I chose to let that comment go. I also didn’t want it to ruin my day.
I turned into the park. The rangers smiled as they saw me. My day was already better. This is a photo essay of my day. I wrote two stories for the Star-Herald, took more than 700 photographs, met some new people, and experienced a phenomenal event.
If you walk into a newsroom on any given day, you’ll see people banging away on their keyboards. Some are swearing their computer is too slow. Others are jamming the keys so fast, you’re amazed at the words that come across the screen.
The Star-Herald on Saturday is mostly empty. There’s a reporter and two people on the copy desk. Sometimes, the Special Projects Editor is there, too.
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