(A pre-election note regarding NY City: The far left of the Democrat Party is drooling over the more than likely prospect that a democratic socialist with clear Islamic ties is poised to assume power as the mayor of a once great but quickly declining city. As others have warned far more eloquently than I could, when you (Democrats, I mean you) invite the Third World into a country without borders this is what you get. I've heard that some 50 percent of NY city dwellers are from somewhere else, and obviously these folks will vote for that which closely approximates their core values -- or they're just swallowing promises of "tax the rich and get free stuff." As goes New York City next week, so goes the rest of NY eventually, and then the rest of the nation, should California and other pathetically progressive states latch on to this madness. Sharia Law (look it up) already seems to be making inroads into American society, absolutely in opposition to our constitutional freedoms and rights, and with the help of outside and inside influences the possibility of utter chaos in the streets one day is not a nightmarish fantasy. In NYC the obvious choice for mayor is Curtis Sliwa, but in panic mode the nevertheless execrable Andrew Cuomo should be the winner. But neither is likely to take the NY mayoral oath of office, pushed aside as they probably will be by a presumed Marxist-socialist-radical Islamic philosophy destined to threaten all that we hold dear. Trouble is, a large segment of NYC voters either don't have a clue -- or they do, and if that's the case we're in terrible jeopardy.)
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We've long bemoaned society's estrangement from letters written specifically and personally from one sender to one receiver. Instead, the computer has replaced the personality of an individually targeted word, and simply by directing a digital device to send the exact same letter to thousands with only names and addresses added, those receiving such documents often falsely believe they're receiving the personal touch.
As a kid, one Christmas in the early sixties I received a basic manual typewriter as a gift and as years passed I used that marvelous instrument to pound out letter after letter to government representatives and others in my quest to raise public interest in the UFO issue. Yes, there would be other typewriters and when, as an adult, I could actually purchase a couple of IBM Selectric typewriters I was literally in keyboard heaven. Unfortunately, in so many ways, the computer sprung into use and my previous existence requiring ink to be imbedded on an actual sheet of paper as I typed character by character was shattered all to hell.
And so it had been in the sixties and even into the seventies that I could typewrite a letter, stick it into an envelope, add a stamp and mail it off, confident of a response in kind. As readers of this blog, you know only too well of my "correspondence flood," as I've posted oh so many scans of letters received, particularly in the earliest years of these entries.
On one occasion, when one could write any congressional rep in the country and get a reply (now, of course, we're pretty much confined to communication with our own representatives, especially when e-mail is used), I wrote the late Illinois Senator Everett McKinley Dirksen. Admired and respected throughout Congress, Dirksen was noted as a pretty fair orator with a voice commanding, yet as smooth as warm butter at a summer's day picnic. Indeed, my mother, not particularly intrigued by politics but certainly aware of the country's historical foundations loved Dirksen's voice.
Nor did Dirksen let his vocal talents go to waste. In the sixties he joined with a record company to produce his LP album, "Gallant Men," a recorded version of American history events read by Dirksen himself. I was actually unaware of the LP until a fellow Air Force airman and I visited a department store one afternoon and as I thumbed through their record section I became aware of its presence. Marc saw the record, too. "My dad would sure like to have that," he remarked. Hmm. Should I turn it over to him as a gesture of kindness? Wouldn't it be the Christian thing to do, I wondered for a moment?
No, I decided to risk burning in hell and insisted I was keeping the album, and I did. I hope Marc found another copy, but it surely wouldn't happen at this store because their records appeared to be a mix of cast-offs -- new and sealed, but apparently not popular in regular record stores. Sorry Marc, I loved you like a brother. . .
But -- Dirksen. The point is, I sent a self-typed letter and received one back. Some secretary had to sit down at a typewriter and bang out real words intended for one person, moi! No form letter intended for the masses, no wordy campaign speech woven around my reason for writing, no bull crap. What I received back was exactly the answer I needed and nothing more 0-- with a signature! At that time, I don't know that autopens were in fashion, so either I had a letter signed by the senator himself or by a trusted office secretary authorized to do so. In any case, the letter seemed real, warm and to the point. No more!
Yes, it would have been great if Dirksen had taken another step and brought the UFO issue up in the Senate -- but maybe he or his office communicated with other officials as a result, leading to further interest in the future (I'm trying not to picture the Colorado UFO study disaster as a fruit of my labor. . .). Actually, if you dig up a copy (or visit the NICAP tribute site -- see my link) of NICAP's "UFO Evidence" report, given to every member of Congress in 1964, you will find a section devoted to numerous comments about UFOs by congressional members. If only they had formed a powerful coalition then -- though it is amazing that several modern congressional folk have finally taken UFOs seriously and into the conference room.
Nonetheless, I so miss those earlier days of friendly interpersonal communication via the post office, pretty much lacking a hidden agenda. If we anticipate something better from artificial intelligence and the magic of computer chips, I fear we shall be profoundly disappointed. Then again, it's quite true that if one never had something in the first place they tend not to notice its departure from long ago.
