The death of George Floyd, a black man, should not have happened. The white officer who knelt on his neck for nearly nine minutes is rightfully charged with murder and will have his day in court. The other three officers who failed to respond to Floyd’s calls for help will have to live with those consequences as well.
“You can pay me now,” said the man on the 1970 television commercial for Fram oil filters, “or you can pay him later,” pointing to the mechanic rebuilding an engine.”
That TV ad first aired 50 years ago; the message is a part of our consciousness today. That pay-now-or-pay-later line applies to what I believe is one of the two most under-reported stories of our time: The business of local journalism is endangered, and it matters.
Women have a ways to go for equal pay
The Equal Pay Act was passed in 1963, but despite this federal law, the gender pay gap still exists over 50 years later. Tuesday, March 31, the American Association of University Women (AAUW)-Algona branch planned to mark the day that the average woman finally, in 15 months, makes the same amount as her male counterpart does in 12 months. However, the COVID-19 pandemic made it impossible to do our usual Equal Pay Day activities.
The relationship between government and the governed is a delicate arrangement, even in the best of times.
Government wants us to pay our taxes. It wants us to obey its laws and directives. Citizens, in turn, expect certain things from government, things like good schools, parks, law enforcement and protection of the public health and safety.
Trust and accountability are key elements in this arrangement between government and the governed.
Just when I couldn’t be surprised more by society’s level of ignorance with regard to citizens’ relationship with their governments, I once again get knocked off my chair.
Documenting the Present, the second part of the Kossuth County Historical Society’s motto, is taken very seriously. It is one of the goals of the society to make the present be preserved for generations to come.
A way to do that is by encouraging people to consider donating items to the society before tossing them out. Although limited to items that are 50 years old with a connection to Kossuth County, there are probably a lot of meaningful, historic items that are being trashed.
125 Years Ago –
Over at Denison a man named Gregory sued the Northwestern for $1,900 damages for putting him off the train. He brought a dog with him and the conductor put both off. The court now holds that he had no right to bring the dog, and that the company is not liable.
Read more items from Out of the Past in the June 4 edition of the Kossuth County Advance.
Remember two weeks ago I wrote about my disastrous attempt to patch my leaky birdbath? I was conquered by an evil entity called Flextape, which also conquered three pairs of my good scissors.
That our nation will lose more than 100,000 to COVID-19 is a human disaster. It already has killed more people in a few months than die annually from the flu. The problem with COVID-19 is it is so contagious. Though Kossuth County, as of Tuesday, had just seven confirmed cases, we would be foolish to think there are not more – many more.
The COVID-19 pandemic has magnified many problems in our country. One of the most glaring is the disappearance of local journalism. While people are increasingly turning to local journalists for information on how the pandemic is impacting their communities, advertisers are cutting their budgets to account for an economy in rapid decline. This means newspapers that were struggling to get by now face the prospect of being shuttered entirely.
Anytime a person reads a novel steeped in magic realism, a suspension of disbelief is required. When a magic realism novel is an urban fantasy filled with werebirds, werewolves and vampires, it requires a very open mind.
I finished last week’s column by stating that the 1918 flu pandemic had reached Kossuth County around the first of October and that the illnesses and deaths had begun to mount.
Rural Iowans have done a tremendous job of social distancing and reacting to the requests of the state and federal governments when it comes to the COVID-19 coronavirus – or we’ve just been lucky.
When I was growing up on my great-grandfather’s farm east of Lone Rock, numerous times during my youth my great-grandparents, Karl and Olga Ewoldt, talked about surviving the flu pandemic of 1918. At one point during that period, both of them, plus their daughters, Elva, my great-aunt; and Ella, my grandmother, all contracted the flu at the same time.
I had a wrestling match last week with something called Flextape. I lost. Furthermore, I also lost three pairs of scissors and my temper.
Flextape is the devil’s invention.
It all started with a leaky birdbath. Last year, I managed to repair the leaks with some kind of caulking. It held all summer, but alas, this year the birdbath leaked like the proverbial sieve.
Read the rest of Molly's Ink Spots in the May 21 Advance.
