I live in a rural area, and we have a mailbox that is shared with eight other users. It’s located down the street on a corner with a main roadway to make is easier for the mailmen to deliver the mail. The box had a slot where we could place outgoing mail to be picked up. Some dirt bag thought there might be something of value in the outgoing mail slot so he got out his tire iron and made a total mess of the slot. The Post Office, in its wisdom, sent out a handyman who welded the slot shut, rendering it useless to the dirt bags and good citizen users alike.

Colin Kaepernick has chosen to boycott the National Anthem at football games in order to foster an issue he personally believes in. Several other sports celebrities have followed suit by taking a knee, raising a fist, or pouting on the sidelines. None of the teams have the balls to tell their millionaire employees that the National Anthem at a team sponsored football game is sacred and not to be messed with. The teams, down deep, I’m sure, feel that the antics are disrespectful to everyone; the media, televising the travesties, down deep, know that it is the wrong thing these people are doing. So what is their solution to the problem? Of Course, stop televising the National Anthem. My wife and I were watching football this Sunday, and she said to me. “Hon, isn’t it a shame that the Anthem is no longer played at the games? I really miss that.” “It’s simple dear”, I said, “The law abiding citizen is always the one that suffers for our inability to call a spade a spade, and punish the wrong-doers”.

Responsible gun owners are another good example of this same sort of thing. People, unwilling to deal with criminals always look to punish the innocent first. However, I was happy to read that Megan Rapinoe has been dropped from the USA Team Roster. Spitting on your employer is a no-no.

At my age I get very concerned when an Era ends, and yesterday an Era ended for me. I worshiped Arnold Palmer. He was a winner, he was a great golfer (in spite of his swing), and above all he was a marvelous human being.

When I was discharged from the Navy in 1960, at age 21, I began my college career, and also took up the game of golf. I was never really great, nor consistant, but in my prime I could go around most courses under 82. My greatest golf story was when two of my golfing buddies and I played Pebble Beach. For the first four holes I carded birdie, birdie, eagle, birdie (five under). I came out of the fifth hole even and went for 115 pops that fateful day. I wiffed my first T shot playing with my father-in-law to be, who was an All-American basketball player, and a pretty solid golfer. I couldn’t find a hero in myself on the golf course, so I looked to Arnie.

Arnold Palmer won 62 tournaments during his career on the PGA Tour. Widely considered one of the greatest golfers of all-time, Palmer captured seven majors that included four Masters wins from 1958 to 1964 and two British Open titles. He never won the PGA, which haunted him his entire career from 1958 to the day-before-yesterday.

I remember joining Arnies Army and following him whenever he came to town to play. One day in 1966, at the Olympic Club in San Francisco, Palmers twosome was waiting for the groups ahead, he was 10 feet from me, and I said to him, “Arnie, I think you got this one today.” He gave me a big smile and walked over to me. We actually chatted for about two minutes, he thanked me for my support and walked back to his ball. He took a swing; that God aweful, loopy, flat, three-quarter swing, of his; and whacked the ball still to the pin. He characteristically hitched up his pants, turned and winked at me and strode off. I’ll miss you Arnie.

ROME IS BURNING

I remember, 2008, as if it was yesterday; President Obama, his wife and children walking out on stage after his election. He looked like a deer in the headlights. The Rev. Jesse Jackson, Oprah, Al Sharpton and many other African-American notables looked on with tears in their eyes. I believed, in that moment, that the tears were tears of joy, of “lifted oppression” and of hope.

Sitting here, nearly eight years later I wonder what the hell happened. Obama, the first African-American President was, in that moment, given everything he needed to attain the elusive goal of healing racism in the United States. You would think that would have been the uppermost thought in his mind as he strolled out on the stage, waving, smiling and posing. What a legacy that would have been; equal to our 14th President.

“He could have been my son”(BO on Trayvon Martin); “For the first time in my life I am proud of my country because it feels like hope is making a comeback”(MO 2/18/2008); “She’s a typical white person” (BO referring to his grandmother); “The motivations of the shooter remind us that racism remains a blight that we have to combat together”(BO on the Charleston Shootings); “The situation in Ferguson speaks to broader challenges we still face as a nation including the mistrust between law enforcement and communities of color”(BO on Ferguson). He speaks of combat, challenge and hope, but does nothing.

I waited, with the rest of America, for Obama to roll up his sleeves and end racism once and for all, and instead he issues statement after statement pushing the divide further and further apart. Why did Obama allow a decorated police officer in Ferguson to lose his career to a 400LB bully who obviously was out of control and a threat. Why did he go to Charleston and condole the suffering in complete privacy; did he not think that the rest of us, white, yellow and brown might want him; as our leader’ to comiserate for us as well.

He has never understood that he is the President of all of us, the hope of all of us, the strength of all of us. Instead he chose to polarize, politicize, and intellectualize. I have never really understood why, and he continues til today. Rome is burning.