REFLECTIONS AND REALIZATIONS OF A SOUTHERNER AS THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA ENTERS ITS 243RD YEAR
Part I
July 1, 2018
This is the first part of a four-part offering consisting of my pseudo-philosophical meanderings concerning the current state of affairs in what still survives as the United States of America.
R. A. Schultz
I find it rather ironic that the last best hope for freedom in America today rests in the hands of a tough-as-nails New York City businessman / builder who doesn’t take sh!t from anybody. Donald J. Trump has turned international diplomacy on its ear, has radically changed the way the U. S. government does business, and has so frightened the corruption-as-usual crowd of the DC Swamp that they and their allies in the Make Believe Media have become completely deranged. Many of the moles left in place by the Kenyan prince are already bailing, realizing that time spent as a Swamp-enabler may not look all that good on a resume after all.
Before I venture further, please allow me to share some personal background: Both of my parents were born in New York City, but by a stroke of fate (I don’t believe in “luck,” but I DO believe in a merciful God, and have observed that He has a GREAT sense of humor!), I was born in Knoxville, Tennessee, on somewhat of a mountaintop, incidentally; specifically, Fort Sanders Hospital. Early on, I’ve been told, we shortly moved to south Florida, but the boom hadn’t started there yet, so my Yankee parents kidnapped me back north to New York City, and then on to an extended overseas adventure.
Just about the time I realized I’m American, which took place at an early age while we were living in Indonesia, I also realized I’m a Southerner by birth, and since then my Southern identity and my Southern sympathies have increased exponentially, principally as a result of my voracious reading habits (Since graduating from college, I’ve been good for at least three books a month, regardless of whatever else is going on around me).
This was just about the time that the Netherlands had decided that colonialism wasn’t such a hot idea after all and that its overseas holdings in the Far East, most of which had to be rescued from the Japanese Empire by United States troops, had become “deserving” of their freedom. On reflection, I have no doubt that skin color played a part in this decision. Many Indonesians likely preferred living under Japanese slave masters rather than lily-white Dutch slave masters, the end result bearing little consequential difference.
