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DOCUMENTS


The Tentacle


October 14, 2014

Never Say Never, Kemosabe

Harry M. Covert

Since colleagues have pretty well explained and detailed all the issues of the Frederick County political and Ebola matters in recent days, perhaps a re-visit to the matter of names is appropriate.

 

Most people of any political persuasion in all probability have made up their minds, but the candidates must be given credit for continuing their crusades for the hearts and minds of good citizens.

 

The weekend past began with a houseful at the Kiwanis Club of Frederick breakfast at Homewood at Crumland Farms on Willow Road. The good people enjoyed a first-class feast. A pleasure to be amidst the smiles, happy talk and handshakes, including a few kisses.

 

I deigned not to gravitate to the Colorfest up the road in Thurmont. The 100,000 attendees or so didn’t miss me and I avoided the traffic jams. Of course, it was my loss. Instead I was purloined to the widescreen antics of college sports and the baseball venues.

 

The latter brought to mind that all of the political talks about the bad economy are foolishness, leg-pulling and scare tactics. Scanning the collegiate stadiums of supposed amateur sports, and then the filled baseball stadia of the big boys, the money is flowing everywhere. During the statistical reports of announcers’ constant prattling about the “great athletic plays” and the “great kids,” then the success of four-seam, cutters, sliders and curve balls, the bulletin arrived on the iPhone, the U.S. was kicking in $400 million to rebuild Gaza for the Palestinians.

 

Where’s all this cash coming from? That’s easy – the American taxpayer. Suckers again.

 

On Sunday the millionaire players and mostly billionaire owners of the National Football League teams were raking in more dollars as patrons donned expensive partisan shirts and hats and all kinds of riotous signs. For the record Maryland’s own Baltimore Ravens enjoyed an extra ordinary day in Florida’s Tampa Bay. Maryland’s other team, the Washington Redskins, suffered in Arizona. Outside of the gate in Phoenix, a small group of professional complainers again grumbled about the Redskins’ name.

 

Redskins’ owner Dan Snyder said he would never change the name. Now, my mama always told me “never say never because the day will come when you will.”

 

Hopefully Mr. Snyder, courting the majority of Indians and counting the growing shekels of his franchise, will hang tough. It’s getting a bit ridiculous; if you’re gonna get offended, get offended by something important. Remember the tearful advertisement with Iron Eyes Cody? Yes we all want to keep America beautiful. “Iron Eyes” was born in Louisiana and was 100 percent Italian. For the record his real name, Espera Oscar de Corti. He had a good career in the movies playing Indians. He died at age 94 on January 4, 1999.

 

At an early age I learned that “stick and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me,” that is, of course, if you hear words like “you’re under arrest,” “guilty as charged” or “I hate you.”

 

The story goes that an Army sergeant applied to change his name in court. His name was an Indian moniker, Vincent Wolfguts. The clerk asked what new name he wanted. “Robert.” Now my father, a man of honesty and veracity, affirmed this as a fact. I believe him to this day.

 

An area radio broadcaster recently suggested the Redskins change the name to Redskin Potatoes. For short they would become the Skins. Witty, for sure. Don’t forget “never go into a battle of wits half-armed.”

 

In conclusion, Kemosabe, perhaps the Skins could figure a way to win a few games. Probably be next year, though.

 

hmcovert@gmail.com

 



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