Speaking of voices in the wilderness

I sometimes wonder why I keep reading our local paper's letters to the editor, when they aggravate me so. After the recent election my relief that we were not entirely turned over to conservative and/or tea party candidates was drowned out by the whining of those who didn't get what they wanted in California. Letters and columns of disgust at our socialist, "statist  workforce and dependancy class" who "simply outvoted the productive class." Um, I am socially liberal, and work more than full time, and work very hard, thank you...and not for the state, thanks. This middle class as victim is getting on my last nerve.  I am middle class, folks. It is not exclusive to the politically conservative. I cannot and will not vote for someone who would outlaw abortion and prevent gay marriage. I presume such social concerns are at least part of what kept Carly Fiorina from being elected over Barbara Boxer, who is  unabashedly socially liberal.

Worse than the above letters was the flat out statement that the Senate Minority Leader made, without the least hesitation, that the first goal was to make sure that the President was a one term president. He and his colleagues are more concerned stopping anything from being accomplished, and showing us who is in charge now, than attempting any co-operation to do the work of the people. Did no one learn from the mistakes that the Dems made when they "took over?" The bullying? The take no prisoners attitude? They pushed, the Republicans did all they could to make sure nothing that they pushed for got done. Does no one notice where this has gotten us? I truly believe it was more the disgust with all of that, than anything else, that got the bum's rush on so many.

The minute President Obama was elected, the whining and wailing and ranting began. Socialist, facist, nanny state. Anger that the government was going to get into everyone's life. Yet they would control the most personal issues like marriage and choice over abortion. And the viciousness of the attacks on those they feel threatened by, be they illegal immigrants, "leftists" or those who wish same sex marriage, is just dismaying. I often despair of just who I am surrounded by in this County.  Now that much of the country voted a conservative majority in, they hiss that we in California are clueless because we did not vote in their choice of candidate. Worse than that is the attitude that the working people were outvoted by the indolent. The arrogance of it is so very gauling. Then I read the one or two letters who sound an awful lot like me, and shouted a hurrah over my morning paper. I am not the only voice piping up in this angry wilderness. I guess we best stick around and keep writing.

Small but mighty

I have set a new personal record for the smallest airport I have ever flown into. My previous record was the one in Yuma, AZ , a city that has a special place in my heart, as my parents eloped there, over 60 years ago. The airport there has four gates, which are actually doors. Whichever one is open when you land, that's the one you go in. The desk crew moves over to check you in through the gate when you depart. However, my new smallest airport ever is  the one in Prescott, AZ, to which only Great Lakes Airlines flies. There are a few flights a day, but only one to and from CA per day, from Ontario. The girls downstairs who check your bag in, are the ones that are up at the gate in Ontario. The co-pilot is standing at the foot of the stairs when you board. There is no attendant, as least not on this route. It is only an 18 seat plane ("every seat is both a window and an aisle.")  When you get to Prescott, you land near a building which resembles a post office from the outside, and  a house from the inside.  Inside there is not a baggage claim conveyor. There is a door inside which the luggage is placed. There is a fireplace which enhances its resemblance to a house, and I think it has fewer square feet than my small house does. The Hertz counter is a cubbyhole with a desk and a very nice young lady who runs down the street to fill the car up. When you return you just leave the car out front ("we'll find it!") . When time for departure comes, the same guy checks you in, take your bag, opens the one door to the field, and loads your luggage in after you go through security. That is small. Oh, and no gift shop. Yuma has one.  Prescott does have a six stool, three booth lunch counter with the nicest ladies in the world running it. Everyone at this airport are the nicest I have met, including the TSA agents, who outnumbered the passengers. Big time it ain't but big-hearted it is. Oh , and the flight itself is a hoot. Not particularly rough, though noisier than a commercial jet, as it is a twin engine turbo prop. I know I am dating myself when I say it reminds me of my childhood TV watching, and hearing the announcer call out "Skyyyyy Kiiinng!!"  Look it up on imdb.com. 0 : )