So, last Tuesday evening — Primary Election Day — I was at Smokey Joe’s Cigar Lounge, known the world-wide, having my usual Tuesday stogie and a beverage with some of the smartest guys I know and yet despite enjoying myself, I felt like the retired horse that pulled the fire wagon when there was an alarm going. I had an itch, a feeling that I should be in the fray.
I really get tired of people claiming they have lost their “freedoms” during liberal administrations such as Biden/Harris.
It’s interesting — and frustrating — how memory works. I forget why I walked into the kitchen to get something and once I get there I have no idea what my mission was about. Inevitably I have to walk out of the room and walk back into it to dislodge the thought from some closed part of my brain. And yet a whole flood of memories about events from years ago bubble up to the surface.
To be clear, I have never been in favor of violence being a change agent in politics. I did not post anything gleeful about the attempted assassination of Donald Trump, because I was not happy that once again someone has decided to affect a political race with a bullet.
As I write this column the Springfield Jazz and Roots Festival is just a few days away. It will draw thousands of people to downtown Springfield — as long as the weather holds — making a sizable economic development impact on the region through restaurant and hotel use.
When I first lived in Springfield from 1957 to 1962, I attended kindergarten, first and second grades. I remember the school days starting for the first and second grades with the Pledge of Allegiance, singing a patriotic song and then a prayer, often accompanied with a reading from the Bible.