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Dr. Herb Ruhs & grandson
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We tell ourselves it didn't happen
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by Herb Ruhs, MD, Unknown News July 19, 2008
I just now returned from our public pool and witnessed a prime
example of why our nation is going down the tubes. My five year old
grandson and another small boy were playing happily with some small
beach balls. Then some rowdy fourteenish boys entered the pool and
took the balls away from the small children and started throwing them
wildly. The lifeguard told them to stop throwing them and said
nothing about giving them back to the little ones. The big boys shortly lost interest in the balls, whereupon the small boys quickly
recovered them. Shortly thereafter I witnessed the somewhat larger
of the small |
boys aggressively take the balls away from my grandson.
At this point I intervened with the lifeguard who merely told the small boys that they should share the toys. When I explained to the
lifeguard about the teenagers taking the toys from the little kids
and she claimed not to have seen it, a somewhat specious claim since
there were only six people in the pool the whole time, an elderly man
who was barely moving, the two small boys and the three teenagers. I
actually believe that she failed to take notice of the abusive
behavior of the teenagers. Something common skips notice. That is
what our society is like these days.
You can take my word for it or you can just write me
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off as a
curmudgeon. However, fifty years ago the same scene would have
likely either not occurred (bullying of little kids tended to occur
out of sight of adults) or at least some adult would likely have
noticed and intervened. Thirty years ago at least the lifeguard was
likely to have intervened. Now no-one tends to intervene because
everyone is cowed by the thugs. An adult responsibly intervening
could likely end up having to deal with a thug in uniform called in
by some avenging parent. Not worth the risk.
I saw the sea change in the early eighties. I tend to blame the
leadership. People like the actor/president, who's name shall not be
mentioned, who informed the nation that the rules had changed, the
laws no longer protected the little people, the new principle was, in
his words "caveat emptor." The literal translation from the Latin is
"Let the buyer beware," but his meaning, as has become more and more
clear was "Let the little people beware." Of course one could argue
that it was the people who changed and he-who-shall-not-be-named was
a result of a rising mean spiritedness in the general population
rather than a cause. There may be some chicken and eggedness, but I
don't there is much. The US population was, and is, so passive, so
suggestible, so fully propagandized and indoctrinated that it is hard
to visualize how they, we, could be the cause of anything. We have
been led here to our fate by our TVs.
From my writing people make the mistake of thinking of me as a
radical. Honest mistake. These days being a conservative with
integrity is to be seen as being a radical. I am actually a very law
and order type, a supporter of tradition. I am perhaps deserve the
label of radical feminist. I am dubious about universal suffrage
that includes men. I am not a moralist, however. I could care less
what people do with each others genitals as long as they don't make
me watch. I am even less interested in what people smoke or ingest as
long as they leave others alone. I am however a starched collar
believer in the power of public morals of other sorts. And for
Universe's sake, leave the poor mothers alone to work things out with
their fetuses. Not only am I deeply conservative in the same way that
Karen Kwiatkowski describes herself as being conservative, as a
defender of the ideals of the first Americans , my
deepest nature is probably as a cop. Maybe it is the Irish in me. I
am related to a few cops. Like most cop nature types I feel a deep
outrage toward injustice and have nothing but contempt for the might-
makes-right, caveat emptor types that dominate our society these
days. I don't like anyone being roughed up. Especially by a cop.
Perhaps my most satisfying job was when I was chosen to be the
unofficial campus cop for my small college. Goddard College had, at
that point (1965), about two hundred and fifty students and fifty
faculty. We were stuck way out in the Vermont woods. My job was to
investigate possible crimes, car theft, threats, petty thefts,
irresponsible distribution of dangerous drugs, and so forth, so as to
prevent the official cops from becoming involved on campus. Best job
I ever had, best job I ever did. Most interesting also. I was
always able to effect restitution and recovery to everyone's
satisfaction. The most fun I had was when a syphilis outbreak
occurred and the Community Government asked me to do the case
finding. Imagine walking around interrogating people about their
sexual contacts and writing it all down in a little black book that
diagramed the whole nasty network of contacts for the entire
college. Everyone trusted, everyone was treated, and I never told
who was sleeping with who. Satisfying.
One of the fundamental differences in today's world is that it is not
safe for honest cops anymore. The poster child for honest cop is
Mike Ruppert of "From the Wilderness" fame. I just read sadly
that Mike suffered from what sounds like a severe poisoning. In his
most recent communication Mike reports that he is doing well and
still committed to never doing investigative journalism again. Mike
writes, "COINTELPRO is and was always a program designed to be out of
sight and not deciphered." Gangsters don't forget and they don't
forgive those that give them trouble." Courageous soldiers carry
wounds of war. I wish him well and I hope, in his case they do forget.
My grandfather, Edward Carr, was an example of this. He was running
a speakeasy for the Chicago mob back in the thirties. The mob was
after him for something, skimming?. The family story was always that
he was visiting with his friends with the concrete shoes at the
bottom of the Calumet Canal. Actually, he had not been as dead as
reported. We learned this a few years ago from a probate
announcement in a Pennsylvania paper. Turns out that he ran. He had
gone to McKee's Port, PA, changed his name and become an ambulance
driver. He lived out a very long life. This illuminated for me the
mystery of my step grandfather, an awful German named Herbert. My
sainted grandmother couldn't very well have skipped having Edward
declared dead after seven years. That would have put the mob back on
Edward's trail. Nor could she have married someone nice. That would
have been disloyal to Edward. Hence Herbert. My grandmother was a
conscientious bigamist. The part I hate is being called Herbert
Uggh. Please, compassion dictates that I am always called only
herb. I really should be called Edward since I was the first
grandson of a conventional Irish family.
Did Gary Webb really commit suicide? Was Chauncey Bailey shot dead
with a shotgun in broad daylight on an Oakland street over some
personal beef? Honest cops and honest investigators have gotten the
message over and over again I think.
© by the author.
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