By Patrick F. Cannon

I was watching an interesting program on the Science Channel about the reopening of a four-hundred-year-old mine in England’s County of  Cornwall. It seems the ancient mine, which once produced copper and tin, is now known to contain Lithium, a key element in modern battery production. When the program was over, there was a promo for an upcoming feature on the continuing search for Bigfoot, or Sasquatch, if you prefer the scientific moniker.

            In case you have missed it, Bigfoot is a giant, human- like creature that roams the forests of our great Northwest, often sighted by hiking scientists, but so far never captured. Occasionally, a lucky hiker spots one and takes a murky photo or video of it. They seem to be about 8 feet tall, proportioned like a human (decidedly not like an ape or bear), covered in hair, and looking quizzically at the camera wielder. None, at least so far, has waved, or sauntered over to say howdy.

            You would think, given our modern tracking devices, we would have long since been able to corner one and toss a net over him, but no luck so far. Nor have our friends and fellow scientists in the distant Himalayas, where a similar creature called the Abominable Snowman (scientific name: Yeti) is said to roam. They may be related, but the Yeti has white fur, no doubt a climatic adaptation, like the Polar Bear or the Snowshoe Rabbit.

Failure to catch one of the creatures has not dissuaded the intrepid scientists, who seemingly will continue their searches so long as the Science Channel keeps supporting their efforts. We also have this and other channels to thank for not giving up hope that one day they will capture a life form from outer space.   

Of course, there have been numerous books, movies and television shows that present us with a little green man or two. Who can forget the charming ET? Sometimes they even look like John Lithgow, to fool us into thinking they’re just like us (heaven forbid). I’ve lost count of the number of folks who have been abducted and held against their will in a flying saucer or dinner plate. After hurtling through the cosmos and visiting strange and wonderful planets, the captives are released to warn us to mend our ways or suffer unimaginable woe.

Now, the universe is really big, and its vastness might include planets that can, like ours, support life in some form. Apparently, there are scientists sending messages through the ether in hope someone out there will hear them and respond. I’m sorry to say, so far only silence. I have no problem with them continuing to keep trying if it doesn’t cost too much.

Many of your fellow citizens believe that little green men have managed to reach our planet, and they’re being studied at a remote place in Nevada called “Area 51.” The government claims it’s a secret facility for testing advanced aircraft, but they would say that, wouldn’t they? Or at least according to the conspiracy theorists who have found their own niche on the Science and other “reality” channels. On the surface, the aircraft testing claim seems plausible, but what happens underground?

Could the government be breeding more little green people? If so, to what end? Are they way smarter than us? Could they solve the mystery of what goes on in Donald Trump’s brain? Or explain the popularity of the Avocado? Or – and I know this is a stretch – explain to me what was wrong with the old math?

Copyright 2025, Patrick F. Cannon

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By Patrick F. Cannon

Maybe it worked for you, but using the excuse “but Johnny did it too” never worked for me when I got caught breaking the rules when I was a kid. But, as we know, the concept dies hard.

            Wrong is wrong, no matter who does the deed. Former President Biden giving a pardon to his son Hunter, and preemptive pardons to the rest of his family, was wrong. His son Hunter was found guilty by a jury of his peers and would almost certainly have had to spend time in jail. Many fathers and mothers have seen their sons do time for breaking the law and would have loved to wave the magic pardon-power wand. No dice for them though.

            Biden also pardoned many who served or were serving long sentences for minor drug offences that under current law would be much shorter. I have no problem with that, or with preemptively giving pardons to former Trump officials who have since gained his ire, among them former chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Miley, and former national security advisor John Bolton. (In a typical show of vindictiveness, President Trump has also taken away their security details, despite (or because of?) an ongoing threat from Iran.)

            But what President Trump did in either pardoning or commuting the sentences of all 1583 January 6 rioters was also wrong, but on a larger scale, and for more serious offences. Now, I’ve heard people claim those folks were just peaceful protestors. Bullshit. I watched the events live. As it happened. In living color. I saw the police being trampled and beaten. Many of the members of Congress who fled for their lives now pretend it didn’t happen. That tells you all you need to know about today’s politicians. If there is a single Republican politician who has condemned the pardons, please tell me. On the other hand, some Democrats did rightly condemn Biden for pardoning his son.

            It’s past time for eliminating the president’s pardon power. The abuses are getting more numerous and egregious. Our criminal justice system, while imperfect, works well in most cases. To eliminate the pardon power would require a constitutional amendment, a very, very difficult proposition. Of the roughly 11,000 that have been proposed in our history, only 27 have been approved.

            But as the abuses mount, we should at least start the process.

Copyright 2025, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

Back in August, during my failed run for president, I proposed a few sensible ideas for cutting the Federal budget. It included mandating that every department cut their discretionary budget by five percent a year each year for at least four years. This would force them to decide what was actuallly important for the taxpayer, and what clearly wasn’t. In addition, I suggested that all the food, housing and other anti-poverty programs be consolidated and that those eligible receive only one check.

            Now that Donald Trump is president again and has loosed the likes of Elon Musk and Vivek Ramaswamy on a trembling bureaucracy to force them to cut trillions from the budget, I have an idea which would be symbolic of their sincerity. Since Musk does business with the government, a noble gesture would be for him to discount his bills by a similar five percent! And not only him, but all the other companies who have gotten rich at our expense!

            Let’s take the Department of Defense as an example. Of their total budget of $820 billion, a company like Lockheed Martin pockets $64 billion. Surely, they could afford to give the poor taxpayer a mere $3.2 billion rebate. Raytheon could kick in $2 billion, Northrup Grumman $1.75 billion (I could go on, but you get the idea). You may not be aware of this, but Musk’s Space X alone does nearly a billion dollars a year business with NASA, and he may well have contracts with other agencies.

            Jeff Bezos’ Amazon does business with all levels of government, local, state, and Federal. He has also entered the space rocket business, so no doubt he will be doing business with NASA (maybe he already does). And President Trump’s new buddy, Mark Zuckerberg, is also a major government contractor.

            Now, their wealth is subject to the vagaries of the stock markets, but Musk is the world’s richest man, worth roughly $250 billion; Bezos has nearly $200 billion in assets; and Zuckerberg a mere $180 billion.

            If they put their money where their mouths are, they could set a fine example of patriotism by offering us (our taxes pay for all this) that five percent discount. If they did, how could companies like Boeing, Lockheed Martin, Raytheon, General Dynamics, Northrup Grumman, and the other major contractors not follow suit?

            I’m reminded of the wealthy corporate executives who went to Washington during World Wat II to assist in the war effort. They were of course paid for their efforts – and handsome $1  a year (nearly $20 in today’s dough!).  I’m sure Mssrs. Musk, Bezos, and Zuckerberg are no less patriotic?  

Copyright 2025, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

It’s interesting that I can remember the lyrics to songs from my youth – even stupid and silly ones – when I have forgotten poems I once could recite. It proves, I think, the theory that musical melody is an aid to memory. The success of music therapy in treating Alzheimer’s patients is only one example.

            I once knew many poems by heart, written by poets as diverse as Shakespeare, Poe, Keats, Coleridge, Whitman, Frost and Eliot. One special favorite was “To His Coy Mistress,” by the 17^th Century English poet and politician Andrew Marvell (1621-1678). Here are a few lines from various parts of the 46-line poem:

             Had we but world enough and time,

            Your coyness, lady, would be no crime.

            We would sit down, and think which way

            To walk, and pass our long love’s day…

            But at my back,  I always hear

            Time’s winged chariot hurrying near.

            And yonder all before us lie

            Deserts of vast eternity…

            The grave’s a fine and private place,

            But none, I think, do there embrace.

            Marvel managed to live to 57, which was about 20 years beyond the average life expectancy in England then. He wrote the poem when he was about 30 years old, when he would certainly have lost young friends and relatives to maladies that would now be easily cured. So, the urgency of seizing any chance for love was understandable.

            In the same vein is this short poem by the 12^th Century Persian poet Omar Khayyam (translated by Edward FitzGerald):

            Come fill the cup,

            For in the fires of Spring

            Your winter garment of repentance fling.

            The bird of time has but a little way to flutter,

            And the bird is on the wing.

            No matter what our age, it’s a good idea never to lose that urgency. I’ll be 87 soon, and I would hate to wake up in the morning with nothing to do. For example, the essay you’re now reading: it’s number 477 of a weekly series that started in the Fall of 2015,  and when Thursday rolls around, I’d better have one ready – and, so far, I have. Obviously, as Hemingway said about his short stories, “there are some good ones and some bum ones.” But I know every week has a Thursday. Sorry for the bum ones.

            Since 2004, I have always been working on a book. All of them were about Chicago architecture; and have been graced by the great photos of my partner and friend, Jim Caulfield. We are just now starting on number nine, which will explore in detail Frank Lloyd Wright’s Robie House in Chicago, one of the masterpieces of modern architecture. It should be out in the Spring of 2026, when I’ll be 88. Not to worry, though. The historian and social critic Jacques Barzin (1907-2012) published his magnificent work, From Dawn to Decadence, when he was 93 (and published his last work at 99!).

            Finally, and not strictly related, I was reading the obituary of the British novelist David Lodge, who died at 89 on New Year’s Day. I’ve never read any of his books, but something in the obit caught my eye. In one of his novels, the protagonist visits the local registry office to advise them that his father has died. He notices a list on the computer with the heading “Death Menu.” Later, he reflects: “I keep thinking of that header on the registry office computer screen, Death Menu, and wondered whimsically if such a thing were offered, like the a la carte in a restaurant, by the Angel of Death, what one would choose. Something painless, obviously, but not so sudden that you would not have time to take it in,  to say goodbye to life, to hold it in your hand, as it were, and let it go.”

Copyright 2025, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

The United States Steel Corporation, once dominant in its industry, has been in talks with Nippon Steel of Japan. Nippon would buy US Steel, invest substantially to modernize its surviving plants, and permit it to keep its legendary name and Pittsburgh headquarters. The merger is supported by most of the politicians where US Steel does business, by economists and by many of the folks in the affected communities. But not  the Steelworkers Union, who don’t trust the Japanese to keep their promises.

Spouting some blather about US Steel being too important to fall into the hands of foreigners, President Biden has nixed the deal, which may well kill it. It’s a perfect example of cutting off your nose to spite your face. Japan, after all, is our closest ally in Asia, and Nippon Steel is prepared to make significant investments in modernizing US Steel’s plants and equipment. By this logic, we should force the Japanese to close their US auto assembly plants, which in 2023 produced 3.7 million vehicles with American workers. And how about those Korean companies that produced 625,000; or our German allies at 350,000? It was a purely political decision by a lame-duck president, presumably to protect the jobs of Pennsylvania union members, in a swing state. How many union jobs were at stake? Four thousand for all plants, in a company that once had 340,000 union members. And it’s debatable how many actually voted for Biden!

            I write about this in the week after New Years because – although now long in the past – my family was intimately involved in the steel industry. My mother’s father, Frank Donnelly, was general foreman – the top operations manager – for the Edgar Thompson Works of US Steel in Braddock, Pennsylvania when he retired just before World War II began. Because of the war, he was called back, finally retiring again when the war ended.  His son, Paul, would eventually hold the same position.

            Paul was the only son. Of my mother’s five surviving sisters (one died young), two were married to steelworkers. Both had trades – my Uncle Jack Rogers was a pipefitter, and Uncle Vernal Goldstrohm, an electrician. I don’t know, but I expect they became tradesmen instead of laborers through family influence. My Uncle Harry Suttman managed a scrap-metal company, which later employed my Uncle John Ratesic. The company existed primarily to feed scrap metal to the local mills. I’m not sure if my Uncle Frank Orzulak worked in the steel industry. My mother even worked for the Navy in the last years of the war testing steel produced for ships.

            In the next generation, only my cousin Jim Goldstrohm and I out of 21 cousins worked for US Steel. He worked at the same Edgar Thompson Works as his grandfather and father, and indeed retired from there. I worked in the 100-inch mill office at the Homestead Works from July to October 1956, when I moved to Chicago after my mother’s death.

            Interestingly, the Edgar Thompson Works survives, even though it was the oldest of the US Steel mills. The only other area plant still operating is the Irwin Works. When I worked at Homestead, US Steel also had mills in Pittsburgh, Braddock, Duquesne, and McKeesport on the Monongahela River (the so-called Mon Valley), and Ambridge and Aliquippa on the Ohio River. The Jones and Laughlin Steel Company also had a major mill in Pittsburgh, and there were numerous other steel-related companies up and down the rivers.

            US Steel reached its peak in the 1950s, as did Pittsburgh. Then, the decline began. American steel companies failed to invest in modern technologies, which European and Japanese producers were forced to do, as their plants had been destroyed during the war. Higher American wages added to the problem. From producing as much steel as the rest of the world combined at the end of World War II, the US is now behind China, India, and Japan in the rankings. As a result, Pittsburgh’s population declined from 677,000 in 1950 to 303,000 in 2020.

            Although I moved away in 1956, I have visited Pittsburgh regularly since then, often to visit my late brother Pete, who loved Pittsburgh with all his heart. But even he left for a short time in the early 1960s when it was nearly impossible to find work. Believe me, the tough times were bad. But the city survived and is now much more livable. You can breathe the air and see the Sun! And the unemployment rate in October was 3.3 percent, below the national average and far below the Chicago area’s 5.8 percent. And the Steeler’s actually win football games on a regular basis! Maybe it’s time to move back?

Copyright 2025, Patrick F. Cannon

Journal of What?

By Patrick F. Cannon

New Year’s Day or not, I always start the day by reading the Chicago Tribune. Although now just a shadow of its former self, old habits die hard. I’ve regularly read a morning paper for some 70 years, even when I was in the Army in the early 1960s. Among the dailies I’ve started the day with, in addition to the Trib, are the Chicago Sun-Times, Atlanta Constitution, Los Angeles Times, and the Paris edition of the New York Herald-Tribune (when the Army posted me to France).

            Over the years, I’ve always found something to balance the general gloom. New Year’s Day 2025 was no different. In a feature called “People’s Pharmacy,” someone asked if there was any risk of infection from using a bidet. Until I spent the weekend in a hotel in LaRochelle, France with some Army buddies in the early 1960s, I had been unaware of the existence of this sanitary appliance. When I inspected the ensuite facilities in our room, I discovered what looked at first like a toilet without a seat. “What’s this?”,  I asked. One of my fellow soldiers who had been in France much longer than I told me it was a bidet and explained its purpose.

            I was puzzled by this, as in those days the French seemed unconcerned about most body odors. My more sophisticated pal said he thought it had to do with sex. While the French didn’t seem to mind a bit of underarm miasma, they liked their privates to be pristine when they did the naughty.

            As you may know, bidets are catching on in this country. A warm stream of water squirting on your nether regions is both sanitary and somehow pleasurable. New bathrooms are now often equipped with bidets, and you can  have your current toilet retrofitted with a seat that does the same thing for a bit less dough. But are they truly sanitary?

            According to (and I’ve been sneaking up on this!) the Journal of the Anus, Rectum and Colon, it can be a problem, but easily rectified by regular cleaning of the system. I can only imagine what else appears in this eminent journal. But if you’re interested, it’s a quarterly publication of the Japan Society of Coloproctology. While published in Japan, it’s board includes members from around the world. If you visit their web site, I’m sure you can get a subscription.

            I found that you can update your existing toilet with a bidet seat. While a basic model can be had for as little as $150, the top-of-the-line model runs about $400. Since it can be programmed, and heats the water, this might be a wise investment. Of course, you may be the cold shower type. If so, you can save a buck!

            So, Happy New Year! You might want to resolve to read the daily newspaper. Imagine what you might learn!

Copyright 2025, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

In many English-speaking countries, December 26 is celebrated as Boxing Day. Despite its name, it wasn’t a day to watch pugilists ply their trade. Originally, it was a day off for servants who had to serve their betters on Christmas Day. They would then get the next day off to celebrate with their own families, often  being given a “box” of goodies to take along.

            It never caught on here, because Americans never thought of themselves as doomed to be members of a servant class, or their employers didn’t think they deserved a day off. Anyway, if you’re reading this on December 26, Happy Boxing Day. And I’m sure you have many empty present boxes to deal with.

            Today, I’m reminded that this is the third Christmas since my darling Jeanette died. She loved it intensely. On Christmas Eve, we would spend the evening with the families of one or the other of her sisters, Gerri, and Mary. We always had to leave in time for Jeanette to sing at Midnight Mass at St. Cartherine/St. Lucy in Oak Park. We would then host Christmas Day for my family.

            Even though she’s gone, these traditions have continued. I spent Christmas Eve this year at the home of one of my sister-in-law Mary’s daughters, Beth, and her husband Ken. The families of Mary’s other three daughters were also there. I have known most of them for more than 35 years, attended their weddings, and am now meeting their grandchildren!

            Yesterday, I made my usual New York Strip Roast. My nieces, who often came with their families, now spend the holidays at their Florida homes. My son Patrick also lives in Florida, and usually comes for Thanksgiving (we’ll visit him in early March). So, we added a new family. My daughter Beth’s husband Boyd’s brother Bart Klingler and wife Lisa, who just moved from Seattle to Milwaukee, joined us, as did their son Riley and his friend Kerry, who live in Chicago. Boyd’s sister Cathy was on duty as a nurse, so couldn’t make it, but did attend the Klingler family Christmas Eve soiree in Milwaukee! It does get hectic!

            I count myself lucky, especially when I think about all the people whose circumstances mean that they spend the Holidays alone. For that reason, many people actually dread the coming of the holidays. Thanks to my many families, I’m not one of them.

Copyright 2024, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

A majority of my fellow Americans, in their wisdom, chose Donald J. Trump to be their president. I didn’t vote for him (or that other candidate either), but I feel I should do my part to make his tenure in office both successful and profitable.

            Past presidents have been reluctant to generate outside income while in office, waiting to cash in until their term or terms of office are over. They can then raise big bucks for the monuments to their egos called “Presidential Libraries.” Another reliable source of income is paid speaking engagements; and, of course, there’s that old standby, the memoir. They can also generate big bucks as “consultants” to major corporations. Trump, of course, is impatient. He is unique is using the office to generate income in the here and now.

            He has sold his image and likeness for royalty payments for products including (this is by no means a complete list): hats, t-shirts, calendars, Christmas ornaments, candy bars, bobble heads, talking pens, watches, gold shoes, whiskey glasses, cologne, socks, mugs of various kinds, commemorative coins, and action figures (you know, like G.I. Joe). And let’s not forget all those Trump Towers that blot the world’s landscape.

            Nevertheless, there are other opportunities for Trump to profit from his office, and I humbly offer these. First, wouldn’t it be nice to get a personal birthday message from the leader of the free world?  As we know, he has an aversion to actual work, but for enough dough he might be willing to stop watching Fox News long enough to record birthday greetings for $10,000 a shot to wealthy acolytes. Something like this should be welcome: “Hello Joe, this is your great president, Donald Trump, wishing you a very happy birthday. Together, we can Make America Great Again. On this joyful day, don’t forget to visit my web site to find great gifts for you and yours.”

            As we know, he has tasked his great friend, Elon Musk, to find ways to make the government more efficient. Wouldn’t it be great if Elon thanked him by coming out with a new Tesla, Trump Edition? I don’t know if hood ornaments are legal anymore, but I’m sure a Trump National Highway Traffic Safety Administration would make an exception for one that shows the president’s famous profile, with golden locks blowing in the wind!

            There must be some clothier – maybe Ralph Lauren – who could market the “Trump Look.” For everyday business wear, it could include the inevitable navy-blue suit, white shirt, and extra-long red tie. On the golf course (a Trump property always), he favors the pants from one of his blue suits, and a white polo shirt to emphasize his pot belly. Ralph could have his famous polo logo on one side and the Trump logo on the other (but larger, of course). Speaking of golf, many accessories are already available, including an easy-erase pencil for facility in changing your score.

            But the ultimate would be a photo of you and President Trump in the oval office. Now, heads of state and other poohbahs get this gratis, but there’s no reason he couldn’t offer this privilege to more average folk for, say, $25,000 a pop (for one 8×10, signed, and eight wallet size). Or, for the athletically inclined, for $50,000 you could actually play a round of golf with club champion Trump and get to take as many mulligans as he does.

            Finally, I’m sure you’ve noticed that Jeff Bezos of Amazon has joined the Trump bandwagon, even preventing his Washington Post from endorsing Kamela Harris. And no wonder. If you go to the Amazon site and search “Trump,” you’ll find a cornucopia of goodies that profit both Jeff and his new buddy Trump. Of course, the real reason the super-rich are lining up for Trump is simple: he’s promised to lower their taxes. For that, they’re more than happy to put on  his t-shirts and don that “MAGA” cap. After all, the county may be going broke, but you can’t have too many billions!

Copyright 2024, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

Well, another year has passed, so I thought I’d bring you all up to date on the family as the holidays approach. As usual, there wasn’t a dull moment. First the bad news: old Uncle Abner won’t be with us this year – once again, the Parole Board turned him down. He didn’t help his case this time when he got caught running a dice game behind the mangles in the laundry.

            I guess he’ll have to serve the full sentence, unless he gets smart and lets the screws win once in a while. But heck, he’ll only be 70 when he gets out. If he watches his health, he ought to be able to enjoy some of the cash he has stashed away. He still refuses to tell me where it’s hid, despite me telling him inflation is eating away at it, and I’d be happy to invest it for him. Oh, well, he’s as cantankerous as ever. The color did drain from his face when I told him Amazon was building a new distribution center on that flat land near Dismal Creek.

            Daisy Mae is pregnant again. Not sure who the father is this time either. As you know, all her kids look just a little different. I call them the rainbow coalition. She’s a worker though. Took an online course in beauty culture, using money borrowed from the government. She says no one every pays off them loans, so it’s like a free education. Aren’t these young folks smart? Anyway, she’s got everyone in the holler sporting green, red, purple, or pink hair (even yours truly).  

            As you know, young Georgie is in the army. He made it all the way to corporal before he got busted back to private for drinking on duty. At least they didn’t give him a dishonorable discharge like his brother Amos. I guess they treat drunkenness and attempted murder differently.

            You probably heard that Aunt Nellie got married again. You kinda lose track, but I think this might be number seven. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that her former husbands all died suddenly.  At least they all left her some money. Maybe she’ll have better luck this time. Last year’s new husband looked healthy enough, but I guess he was on the clumsy side; he managed to fall off the balcony in that luxury Miami condo he bought her as a wedding present. Her new hubby is the building maintenance man, so that should be handy for her.

            I’m proud that the family remains on the cutting edge of social change. Cousin Charlie announced that he was changing his name to Charlene. Guess we’ll all have to bone up on our pronouns. I suggested to Charlene that the beard might be considered odd for a lady, but he’s (she’s?) quite fond of it, reminding me that the carnival that comes through town still features a bearded lady. So, it looks like a career change might be in the offing too.

            I’m sure you’ve seen all the media stories about son Ralphie. As you know, he’s the only member of the family to graduate from college – and Harvard no less. He’d already graduated by the time they found out he’d phonied up his transcripts and ACT scores to get in, and by then were too embarrassed to go public. Ralphie says the trick is to get in. After that you don’t have to do much, since they think you’re already smart enough.

            Anyway, Ralphie’s now got the record for the greatest Ponzi scheme in history. Unlike old Madoff, he got away to Russia with the dough before it was discovered, so all that education sure paid off.  That picture of him and Putin riding those white horses bare-chested made all the papers. Funny though, when we tried to get a passport to visit him, we got turned down. I complained to our congressman, and he told me he was surprised too, since he thought they would be happy to see us leave the country. Not sure what he meant by that. Anyway, we might not need to go to Russia. Ralphie tells me  he’s being considered for a pardon by incoming President Trump and may also be in line for Secretary of Defense if that fella Hegseth gets shot down.

            I hope you won’t believe that story about wife Rosie being found naked with the preacher. She told me it was just a new way of praying; something about going back to the innocence of Adam and Eve before they ate the apple. She said it made her feel so good she might try it again.

            As for me, my run for Congress didn’t work out so good. I thought for sure having former President Trump’s endorsement would do the trick, but those crooked Democrats foiled me by going to the polls and voting. I was wrongly criticized for not having any political experience, which I thought was a plus. I also thought it was unfair to bring up those accusations of sexual misconduct, especially since the statute of limitations had already expired.

            Anyway, if the once and future president of the United States can play grab (censored), why not your humble servant? I guess I’ll just have to go back to selling used cars salvaged from the recent hurricanes. I always hate to see stuff go to waste. Of course, if my new book, Hillbilly Theology, takes off like my publisher thinks it might, I understand a senate seat might come open!

            My brother Caleb says he won’t be attending any of the family’s Christmas gatherings this year. Says he can’t afford to, since he claims I borrowed $5,000 from him some years back and never paid him back. He’s the eldest you know, and it’s sad to see his memory starting to fail him.

            Well, that’s all for this year. You have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. As for me, I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for Yokum family.

Copyright 2024, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

Although he rarely agreed with him on strategic issues, Britain’s World War II Chief of the Imperial General Staff, Alan Brooke, was impressed by General George C. Marshall’s “grandeur of character.” In another context, he called him “a great gentleman.” He was, numerous historians believe, one of the greatest public servants this country has ever produced.

            From the time he was commissioned as a second lieutenant of infantry in 1902 until his final retirement as secretary of defense in 1951, Marshall served the country in a variety of ways, most notably as Army chief of staff from 1939 to 1945. By the end of the war, he had directly commanded  11.2 million men and women in the Army and Air Corps. As chairman of the Chiefs of Staff Committee, that number rose to 16 million.

            When the war ended, he was ready to retire and turn his duties over to General Dwight Eisenhower. As he said then, he wished nothing more than to spend time with his family and his garden. But after just a few months, President Truman asked him to act as a special envoy to China in an effort to prevent its takeover by the Communists. He was doomed to failure, primarily because of the corruption of the Nationalist government under Chiang Kai-shek.

            In 1947, Truman asked him to become Secretary of State. During his tenure, what came to be known as the Marshall Plan helped Europe rebuild from the war’s devastation (and save at least Western Europe form Russian domination), for which he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1953. When he left the State Department in 1949, he served in the less onerous positions of head of the American Red Cross, and as chairman of the American Battle Monuments Commission. But his country was not yet willing to let him retire. He was appointed Secretary of Defense in September 1950, and finally retired from public service in the following September. He died in 1959, having been given at least 8 years to tend his garden.

            Marshall was born in Uniontown, Pennsylvania in 1880. His father was a distant relation to  Chief Justice John Marshall. His father’s career had its difficulties, and you could say that George grew up in genteel poverty. Throughout his youth, he held a variety of jobs. Because he always wished to have a military career, he followed his elder brother to the Virginia Military Institute, since he would have been unlikely to get an appointment to West Point due to his spotty academic record.

            He was a captain with 15 years of service when we entered World War I. Before the war was over, he had been promoted to Colonel and served as an operations officer under General Pershing. After the war, he became a captain again, reaching the rank of colonel again only in 1933, in an Army where promotion to that rank came only with seniority. With war approaching, his abilities caused rapid promotion, and he became Chief of Staff over the heads of many senior officers. He desperately wanted to be supreme commander of the invasion of France in 1944, but the job went to Eisenhower because FDR said he couldn’t sleep nights without Marshall in Washington. As usual, Marshall didn’t complain.

            I tell you all this because George Marshall represented the caliber of people who once served in the president’s cabinet. Here are some others who have served during my lifetime: Dean Acheson, John Foster Dulles, George Schultz, Colin Powell, Madeleine Albright,  Averel Harriman, Tom Clark, Henry Kissinger and Colin Powell. While I may not have agreed with their policies, I never questioned their qualifications for office.

You may want to think about George Marshall and these other cabinet members of both parties as you study the lives and careers of the men and women the current president-elect  has decided are worthy to represent you and the United States.  Some are clearly qualified. As for the rest…

Copyright 2024, Patrick F. Cannon