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By DR. GLENN MOLLETTE, Syndicated Columnist
To The Desert Independent

November 15, 2020

Joe Biden or Donald Trump will never visit me in my home, stand beside me at the funeral home or dance at my wedding. I will not be receiving any calls from either of them to pray for me during sickness or to check on how my children are doing. I probably will never sit in a room with them to visit, laugh and tell funny stories or just to hang out over a cup of coffee. I do not personally know either one. I welcome the opportunity to visit with either of them, but doubt it will happen.

I feel like I know them because I have seen them on television my entire life and heard them speak. I have been very emotional about them these last few months and felt very convicted about my vote. I have written words, spoken words and stood on the firing line for my candidate. Most importantly, I voted. I have also received my share of emails, and real mail from people just as adamant about their candidate, often expressed in very colorful words.

Sadly, over the last few months, I have seen people who, I have known for many years, take as strong or stronger stance than I've taken. The distance between us has grown farther and the climate colder. Acquaintances, life-friends, school buddies and even family.

Both of our candidates have campaigned in their own, and different ways. The issues have been heatedly debated and argued. As a nation, we have stressed ourselves to the max over these political candidates. And, while our vision for our nation has not changed, or our love and support for our preferred candidate has probably not dwindled, we must make a concerted effort to keep friends, family and the hopes and spirit of Thanksgiving alive.

As strongly as I feel about our nation and our leadership, I will not throw my friends and loved ones under the bus. My father was a Republican and my mother was a Democrat. They both voted and life went on. They were married for over 60 years. They did pretty well. They didn't divorce over an election or politics. I do not remember them even arguing about an election.

This election was important to all of us, but I'm not going to stab my mother in the back or cut my father's throat for Joe Biden or Donald Trump. By the same token, I have played sports with people all through school, sang in choirs, danced with friends, prayed and wept with people at hospitals and funerals, baptized thousands of young and old people alike. I'm not going to throw these people in the lake or smash somebody's car. I am not going to try to destroy somebody's business or life for Joe Biden or Donald Trump. Nor will I attend any Thanksgiving or other holiday meals refusing to be civil and gracious because of opposing political feelings and beliefs in the room. Why would any of us? For Joe Biden or Donald Trump? MORE

Home Country
Fiction by SLIM RANDLES
To The Desert Independent

Mickey Baker has owned The Strand – our local movie theater – since the new releases starred Virginia Mayo. The Strand, naturally, is an icon here. More than a few of our long-lasting marriages in the area began with a first date there. Most of us have consumed more than our share of Raisinettes and Jujubes while watching Duke Wayne whip the bad guys.

We know every inch of The Strand. We know where the rips are in the used-to-be blood-red carpet, which of the seats don’t fold all the way down, which seats are most secluded in case it’s a smooching date. It was ol’ Dud, back when he was about four feet tall, who discovered how to combine chewing gum and the lock on the back door to provide five-finger discounts for friends wanting to watch Victor Mature run around in a loincloth. The Strand, in other words, is a vital part of our past, if not of our lives today.

We seem to just go rent those tapes and disks now and stay home and watch the newer films when we feel like it, and that might be because we now appreciate being able to stop the action for an occasional bathroom break now and then.

Attendance at The Strand dropped dramatically when home entertainment really hit a lick. But Mickey fought back. He tried the free popcorn route for a while. All he charged for was the butter. Attendance didn’t really pick up, and the popcorn bill was … well, appreciable if not staggering.

Mickey now thinks he has the answer. He bought a disk player thingie that works on a big screen. Then he bought some old movies and lowered the price.

The first night he did this was a triple header, and we all turned out to see our old heroes vanquish Nazis, solve the bank robbery in Cactus Gulch, and find out who really killed the big-city mayor. We paid too much for popcorn, but who cares?

The Strand lives on, even if there is more gray hair there than at a Percheron horse show. Besides, when was the last time you saw The Duke standing 15-feet tall? MORE

Brought to you by A Cowboy’s Guide to Growing Up Right, from www.riograndebooks.com.