Get the word out
I had the privilege of riding my bicycle with Mike Darby twice — around Lake Tahoe and for his sponsored Tour de Hope ride. He was a gentle man who was always smiling and was there to help anyone who needed it. He will be greatly missed.
My question is this: Why did it take four murders for this threat to be broadcast everywhere? (May 23, 3A, “Idea of a KC serial killer is ‘not even on the radar yet,’ police say”)
If after one tragic murder this had been so widely aired, perhaps the other three victims would have walked their dogs somewhere else. When does the critical mass of people murdered in the same place warrant the attention it garnered after Darby’s murder?
Perhaps if he had known more about the other murders, he would have been able to attend the event that honored him the day after he was murdered.
As we approach Memorial Day, we should pause and reflect on the meaning and inspiration of the Liberty Memorial.
Although it now is the site of the National World War I Memorial and Museum, it was at its inception a memorial to liberty — thus its name. It is a memorial to the sacrifices made for liberty, to serve as an inspiration to the future of liberty and peace.
To quote its architect, Harold Van Buren Magonigle: “Therefore this memorial shaft signifies: The Flame of Inspiration, guarded by the spirits of Honor, Courage, Patriotism and Sacrifice, burning forever upon an altar-high erected in the skies, a pillar of cloud by day, a pillar of fire by night, to lead men out of the bondage of strife into the promised land of Peace and the blessings of peace.”
I hope this year that officials at the memorial will allow its steam to rise by day as people gather Sunday for Celebration at the Station and continue, as it has in the past, to provide the flame by night as Kansas City celebrates and honors the sacrifices made for liberty.
I have felt conflicted about replacing Kansas City International Airport. I remember when it opened and have enjoyed the convenience. But after spending five hours there last Friday, I realize it’s now a dowdy, user-unfriendly dinosaur.
I stood multiple times in 25-minute lines, stood at the gate because all the chairs were filled, sat on the plane for an hour until my flight was canceled and then stood in line again to find another flight.
Nothing was available that day or the next. I waited 50 minutes at the American Airlines carousel to retrieve my checked bag. With no chair in sight, I sat on the floor.
I heard comments such as, “This is a zoo — no, a jungle,” and “We are in a third-world city.”
Although my flight was announced as canceled, a man showed me on his phone that it had been rescheduled for three hours later. Conversation about trust followed.
I trekked with my bag to get in line to ask the overwhelmed ticket agents. It was longer than before.
Totally zapped at age 81, I called for a cab and sat on the cement outside waiting to go home. I missed my grandson’s graduation.
Mayor Sly James, continue your efforts for a new terminal. You have my support.
Why do moderate Republicans, who represent what is left of the soul of the old GOP, continue to support party extremists in pouring manure on President Donald Trump’s actions in the vain hope that something beautiful will grow?
Work for it
There is an ancient story about a Chinese emperor who showered gold coins on his peasants from his high tower in an effort to end a revolt against his corrupt officials and tax collectors. Rich men, who were carried in covered boxes, got out and tried to push the peasants out of the way to gather up the coins. They couldn’t pick them up because they had been heated on coals and burned their hands. The peasants, whose hands were calloused by a lifetime of hard work, could pick them up without pain.
In third grade, there were a few rich kids who always came with candy in their pockets. They would pass it out on the playground to their favorites, who would feel obligated to do whatever they wanted: Bully this kid, take that kid’s backpack, extort lunch money — even lie for them.
When the teacher got wise to the scam, she put the kibosh on it posthaste. When it came time at recess to choose guys you wanted on your team, nobody would pick the “Candy Kids” or their sweet-tooth flunkies.