Amy McManus

Apathy: A Campaign Story

2011-11-09T16:35:00.000-08:00

‎"God forbid we should ever be twenty years without such a rebellion. The people cannot be all, and always, well informed. The part which is wrong will be discontented, in proportion to the importance of the facts they misconceive. If they remain quiet under such misconceptions, it is lethargy, the forerunner of death to the public liberty.... And what country can preserve its liberties, if its rulers are not warned from time to time, that this people preserve the spirit of resistance?" Thomas Jefferson

“Remaining quiet leads to lethargy.” This could certainly be summed up in one word: apathy.

Apathy is defined by Webster’s as “lack of feeling or emotion; impassiveness, lack of interest or concern; indifference.” Jefferson is arguing that the apex of this apathy occurs at around twenty years. An interesting number. Why not five? Or ten? Or thirty? Something to be said here. A little over twenty years also happens to be the number of years that the Democrats have had virtually complete control over the City of Hornell.

This city made history merely in the fact that the position of Alderman was contested in nine of ten wards. Not one race or two, but nine. The “spirit of resistance” has indeed come to Hornell. But then again, “the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.”

In my own ward, for example, only 100 of 353 registered voters came out to make their voice heard. In spite of the words of support, the signs, the “I’m sick of this/that/the other, we need a change,” I had about a dozen of these voters just sit home. In spite of phone calls. In spite of reassurances. One lady said to me, “Oh, voting is today? I’m out of town.” Really? Just decided it was a nice day for a road trip? What happened to your interest? Your eagerness? Your passion for change? Now that’s apathy.

But what causes voter apathy?

I sincerely believe it’s caused by two things. One is that nasty, nagging sense that “no one will listen.” You vote your conscience; vote for the candidate you believe will represent you best. And they lose. Or they win and nothing changes. How often can this happen (say, twenty years or so?) when a voter just thinks “the hell with it. It makes no difference. Why bother?” A non-incumbent win requires something akin to what can only be called polite badgering. The Democrats did it very well.

One constituent of mine, an Independent voter, jokingly described our efforts to get her to vote as “Constituency Stalking.” Clever. And true.

Secondly, I think in our consumer driven society, Americans have become soft. As long as we have our television, our remote, our car (or 2 or 3 TV’s or cars), we’re happy. As long as I have money in my pocket, all is well in the world. We complain about the Mayor or the condition of the streets or imply corruption or talk about how there’s no dialogue. But the reality is these are just words. We are just venting and whining. We’re very good at it.

We’re not very good at getting off our recliner and spending ten minutes actually doing something about it.

It should be noted that in the wards where a Republican-backed candidate won or performed extremely well, the voter turn-out was very high. Now add to this the twenty years of experience the Democratic machine has had in politics. Sweet-sounding, grandmotherly callers, union backing…real foot soldiers to put the pressure on to “vote for Democrats” or else…well, bad things might happen (said with a whisper). City workers will be fired (how many of us know Republicans who switch to Democrat so they can get a government job?), the elderly will starve in their homes because the bus didn’t make it to their residence, house fires will not be put out because the evil G.O.P. cut Public Safety…on and on it goes. The usual mantra of complete untruths.

Or, as in my case, those who ask questions are called “troublemakers.”

Well, we can’t have any of those kinds of people in public office.

I give credit to my opponent, who, while not a single person I talked to early in the campaign even knew who he was, obviously pursued a more aggressive campaign than I did (with a little help from his friends) and handily won. As far as I can tell, he ran a clean campaign and from all accounts is a consummate gentleman.

My experience with apathy is not anecdotal. I think of another G.O.P.-backed candidate (this person actually won), who shared with me the “lethargy” in his ward. Neighbors, friends and people who have lived on his street for many, many years assured him of their support. “Put a sign in my yard…yeah, let’s do this!” He, too, after phone calls and follow-ups, found out that these “weak in the flesh” people just…you guessed it...sat home.

Yawn.

Still, the victories that occurred in Hornell on November 8th cannot be underestimated. In a heavily Democratic town, three Republicans worked so hard that they were able to break through the apathy, the lethargy, the indifference that leads to “death to the public liberty.” John Buckley, Randy Harkenrider, and Jim Bassage are outstanding individuals who will do great things. John Frungillo came so very close…talk about every vote counting!

The best thing that happened throughout the campaign was meeting these candidates and the Hornell G.O.P. Committee members. They are the finest group of people I’ve ever met. During a time when you realize your friends may be …well, not very friendly; during a time when I realized there were very few people I could trust, during the time that I was the brunt of jokes and hostility by basement bloggers and the recipient of an insulting, anonymous letter by an elitist coward, I also found a group of people that I could trust completely. A group of people who are loyal, honest, hard-working, talented, and intelligent.

And I consider each one of them a friend.

Thank you, John Frungillo, Brendan Smith, Randy Harkenrider, Linda McHale, Joe Flansburg, John Buckley, Joe Duffy, and Jim Bassage. I hope we can continue to work together to change this city for the better.

As the recently departed Father Kanka used to say, “Carry on bravely.”

F.O.I.L. UPDATE 3

2011-09-14T08:52:00.000-07:00

The machinations continue. Below is my letter to C.O.O.G. regarding the City's latest "denial" er, um, "non-response." Whatever you want to call it. It is a nine page document in total, so here's an edited version of Page one :

"Please find the enclosed documents below concerning one of my recent F.O.I.L. requests to the City of Hornell via Clerk Barb Parrot. Please note that you have in your possession another appeal to a denial regarding one aspect of this request (bank signature cards, you will see the references in the emails). The City has now refused to respond to a clarification that they themselves asked for. I am hereby asking for an advisory opinion regarding this recent denial/non-response.
In summation, I have once withdrawn and replaced by clarifying and narrowing down size and scope due to a request for remittance of $4375. I have clarified twice (not including one clarification on bank signature cards) due to specific questions asked by the Clerk. The Clerk’s recent refusal to acknowledge my last communication to her is that: “there has been too much back and forth.”
I have offered to pay staff or any individual for the amount of time it would take to get these documents to me electronically. They, in turn, have offered me nothing unless I send thousands of dollars. Please also note that the Clerk states: “the records you are requesting do not exist in electronic form.” One day later, the City Chamberlain, who is in charge of these accounts, stated the exact opposite.*
I have included quotations from the Evening Tribune only to direct your attention to obvious misrepresentations. If you look at all of the exchanges below, you can see that I was responding very specifically to a question that Clerk Perrott asked of me. My response was a clarification that she herself asked for. They have definitely not “already responded” to my last request.
Given [public] statements [by the Mayor], as well as the fact that I have seen with my own eyes monthly “electronic” registers from the city’s accounting program that show actual expenditures and revenue from and for each account (which they provide to the Common Council members twice per month), it is my contention that the Clerk and Mayor are definitely not making a reasonable effort to find common ground where the documents I seek can be provided."

*Evening Tribune Article August 31, 2011: “Chamberlain Pelych confirmed these accounts are available in the city’s MicroFunds accounting program, and that they could be sent electronically, per Mikolajczyk’s request…money is allocated to each department…records could be sent electronically.”

Note: C.O.O.G. is overloaded with appeals right now, and it could take a few months for them to respond. No matter. Even if the City wins this battle, I'm not giving up the fight.

F.O.I.L. UPDATE 2

2011-09-09T11:57:00.000-07:00

As of this writing, the City is 24 hours past due on getting me a response to my 2nd F.O.I.L. request (sent Sept. 1).. Labor Day not included :)

F.O.I.L. UPDATE

2011-09-09T05:34:00.000-07:00

September 9 2011

I received a letter from the City on Thursday September 8th. Apparently Labor Day didn’t count. Sorry, I don’t work for the government so I forgot it was a holiday. Common mistake.

They have reverted back to snail mail ($.44 a pop--way to use taxpayer dollars wisely), and waited all of the five days to send me three sentences (NOTE advisory opinion from COOG: “The amendments clearly are intended to prohibit entities from unnecessarily delaying disclosure. They are not intended to permit agencies to wait until the fifth business day following the receipt of a request).

The first sentence stated their receipt of my request. The second two were as follows:

“The City does not maintain or possess the records you requested. The bank signature cards are the property of Steuben Trust and are kept on file there.”

Again, I will quote from COOG: A record is "any information kept, held, filed, produced, reproduced by, with or for an agency in any physical form whatsoever including, but not limited to, reports, statements, examinations, memoranda, opinions, folders, files, books, manuals, pamphlets, forms, papers, designs, drawings, maps, photos, letters, microfilms, computer tapes or discs, rules, regulations or codes."

Cleary a bank signature card is a “paper” that is “kept, held or filed” at Steuben Trust Bank “for” the City of Hornell.

I have filed an appeal to my denial with the state. I could be completely wrong on this. But it’s worth pursuing.

According to the Clerk, my requests are “abnormal.”

Worse things have been said about me.

Game on.

A F.O.I.L. SAGA: My Story

2011-09-07T11:31:00.000-07:00

Well…it’s been interesting, to say the least.

First, a crash courses on F.O.I.L. [NOTE : I am no expert, these are just some basics to help the reader understand the series of events]:
1) Stands for “Freedom of Information Laws”
2) Emailed F.O.I.L. requests are completely valid according to NYS C.O.O.G.
3) NYS C.O.O.G. = New York State Committee on Open Government
4) Entities have 5 business days to respond
5) Electronic copies of records are the preferred method of transference (more efficient and less costly, more on that later)
6) No “reason” is needed to make a F.O.I.L. request
7) Requests can be broad or specific

My first F.O.I.L. request was big and bold: records for the past 5 years. Understanding that this was quite an expansive demand, I saw this whole process as a negotiation. I was gauging their reaction, and was willing to adapt. What is most interesting about the responses I have gotten is how the city is showcasing either definitive ineptitude or complete obfuscation. You be the judge. Here’s the timeline:

Tuesday, August 23—Requested 5 years’ worth of copied records for check registers, cash receipts, cash disbursements, billing records for Hornell ambulance, and bank signature cards. This request included the following statement: “If [they] cannot be emailed…please advise me of the actual cost of copying all records (paper or copied to CD) before filling request and we can discuss payment and a retrieval date/time.” This is obviously a recommendation that the records be provided electronically in some manner.

Thursday, August 24—The City Clerk responded to my emailed request with a mailed letter. The gist of it? Due to the “sheer magnitude and volume of the request,” I would have to send $4,375. Included in the letter was their assertion that patient names/health related data would have to be redacted from the ambulance bills. Um, yeah. There was no acknowledgment, mention, or response to my request for electronic records. There was also no response to my request for bank signature cards.

Friday, August 26—I sent a 2nd letter with a change in number of years (decreased) and some clarifications. Here is what was requested: “electronic copy of check registers for the past 2 years. This includes but is not limited to: accounting or computer software program files that are a ‘virtual’ check register, or scanned copies of paper check registers, electronic copy of billing records for Hornell Ambulance for the past 2 years, and a copy of bank signature cards.” I also offered to provide the city with a flash/storage drive.

*Note this from advisory opinions at the C.O.O.G website: [The cost of such action shall be ] an amount equal to the hourly salary attributed to the lowest paid agency employee who has the necessary skill required to prepare a copy of the requested record…and the actual cost of the storage devices. It is our view that if an agency has the ability to scan records in order to transmit them via email and doing so will not involve any effort additional to an alternative method of responding, it is required to do so.”

Saturday, August 28—On local radio, the Mayor of Hornell stated the following: due to the “sheer magnitude and volume of the request…” (I wonder how long they can beat that phrase to death), it could not be “answered quickly…[she cannot] expect a quick turn around.” I never expressed those sentiments. “The people charged with that type of thing,” he continued, “have other jobs to do.” I’m pretty sure C.O.O.G. would not accept that as a valid reason for denial. “We have many accounts,” the Mayor said. That’s right. And I asked for all of them. “It’s going to have to be on our schedule, not theirs.” Again, I never put a timetable on my request. The last few nuggets in this interview? “We don’t have the technology to provide anything electronically,” as well as mentioning, of course HIPAA, which had already been addressed. In summation: the city does not have the capability to transmit any of those records to me electronically. My response was that all the city needs is a scanner.

Wednesday, August 31—The City Clerk responded to my second request with an email (I guess they realized at this point that I was not going to drop it and that it would be frugal to not waste stamps): “We do not have ‘check registers,’ so to speak. If you let me know what you are looking for, we can figure out what report you need.” Strange. I did not ask for a report. She added, “Are you looking for each individual bill or a monthly total of how much is billed?” Was I not clear? Copy of billing records for Hornell Ambulance. No request for a report or a total or a list. Just the bills, please. And the bank signature cards? Finally a response: “these are kept on file at Steuben Trust Bank so you need to contact them for this item.” Lastly: “the records you are requesting do not exist in electronic form,” and to remit $1250. The Mayor was also reported by the local newspaper as saying the following: “We don’t have check registers, we use abstracts.” Irrelevant.

Wednesday, August 31—I send a third clarification: “When I say ‘electronic copies of check registers’ I am speaking of any check register or ledger that is electronically available via your MicroFunds accounting program (these are easily converted to PDF and can be put onto a disc or storage drive). Director Freeman has stated: ‘software, because it is reflective of information in a physical form, constitutes a “record” that falls within the coverage of the Freedom of Information Law…If electronic information can be extracted or generated (my emphasis) with reasonable effort, I believe that that an agency must follow the more reasonable and less costly and labor intensive course of action.’ If this is not possible I would like an explanation. I also offer an alternative route: scanned copies of registers/ledgers that can be converted to PDF and put onto a disc or storage drive. You are required to offer me the electronic versions of these files and include a cost for the time it would take (not cost for paper copies or ink) an employee to scan these items, if this task takes longer than two hours. I am defining “check register” or “ledger” as any and all transactions that involve the exchange of money: deposits into the account as well as checks from the accounts. You would like specific accounts for the above request. I am requesting records for the last two years of: Executive Account, Fire Department Account, and Ambulance Account. As far as the ambulance bills are concerned, I am requesting all bills for the last two years. As mentioned before, you are required to offer me electronic versions of these files (scanned to a CD or storage device) with, of courses, redactions of personal information."

Thursday, September 1—in the local newspaper, the City Chamberlain responds: “…these accounts are available in the city’s MicroFund accounting program and could be sent electronically per [her] request.” HUH? Did they just realize they have an accounting program? Did they just find a scanner hiding in a dust-covered box in a storage room? Did they finally understand what I was asking for because I had to define what a “check register” is? Does the Mayor not know how the Chamberlain does her job? Or have they finally just been backed into a corner that they can’t get out of? The Chamberlain continued, “the accounts only show money spent, not money coming in…the money allocated to each department…is not physically there, it’s all on paper.” Really? So I guess I’ll have to ask for general deposit records into all accounts in order to see the money coming in and…Wait, didn’t I already do that in my very first request?

Thursday, September 1—I had to send another request to the city RE, bank signature cards: “You indicated that you do not have, on hand, such copies at City Hall, and that I could request those records from Steuben Trust Bank. [I have been informed by an executive at the bank that they are] prohibited by law from giving me that information. Therefore, I am asking you to get copies of those signature cards from Steuben Trust for ALL city bank accounts. You may forward scanned copies of those documents to [my] email.”

Wednesday, September 7th —The 5th and final day the city has to reply to the above request. No response. They have until Thursday to respond to the letter dated August 31. I will post their responses as soon as I receive them.

The city claims that the redactions that need to be done to the ambulance bills cannot be done electronically. Are the bills all done by hand? Unlikely. Aren’t the bills on a computer program/file? Likely. Is there not a single employee in all of city hall that knows how to change/remove cells in an Excel program or convert a file to PDF? Does no one know how to do anything but print things out and use black-out marker on them? I don’t have answers to those questions.
I have been told that I am “welcome” to come in to city hall and “look” at records. Except for the ambulance bills, of course, due to privacy.

So here’s the real story: the average citizen who makes F.O.I.L. requests needs to take off from work to go into city hall during their business hours OR pay thousands of dollars to exercise their rights. And these people are supposed to be fans of the working class.

Lastly, on a lighter note, the Mayor misspoke on the radio and called my request a “complaint.” An innocent faux pas? Freudian slip? Just an interesting aside.

The Mayor has said that his is the “most transparent administration in the history of Hornell,” and that he is “not looking to fight with anybody.”

The proof is in the pudding.
Stay tuned…

Voting in the 29th...

2010-10-26T16:06:00.000-07:00

Here we are again in a mid-term election with the usual suspects. Two major candidates—one a medical collections lawyer and the other a kid who has less real-life experience than the average voter in the 29th.

We all talk about how the government is filled with elitists with little in common with the folks. We talk about how the parties are too similar. We talk about how the committees, lobbyists, and PACs have too much sway. We talk about how the country is headed in the wrong direction.

And this is the best the two parties have to offer?

Well, not really. We really do have a choice.

Janice Volk.

Janice has worked hard these last several months traveling and speaking to the constituents in our huge district. She is thoughtful, honest, hard-working, and most represents the average worker, parent, grandparent, and citizen in our area. She has been dismissed by some because she is a “Write-In” candidate. Why? Because they “can’t win?” Hardly.

The famous South Carolina Senator and Governor Strom Thurmond won as a “Write-In” Candidate for Congress in 1954 (he was a Democrat at the time). Charlie Wilson (D) became a Congressman after his successful “Write-in” campaign in Ohio in 2006. “Write-In” Candidate for Governor of Alaska Lisa Murkowski (R) is reportedly in a “dead-heat” race with her Democratic opponent, frightening the Election Commission into considering “banning” these kind of candidates. Herbert Hoover, FDR, Eisenhower, Nixon, JFK? They ALL won primaries as “Write-In” candidates. While the history of “Write-In” candidates indicates a definite uphill battle, there are hundreds of “Write-In” candidates (U.S. record numbers) running for office this November. They are hardly unqualified.

It’s time we think outside the box. When we sit in that little booth, pencil in hand, there’s no commissioner, party head, or lobbyist there to tell us how to vote. We need to stop thinking about “splitting the vote” or “taking down” other party. Our Republic’s future is at stake. We simply can’t trust people who promise not to raise taxes and then turn around and raise taxes. We simply can’t trust people who, while our district faces the toughest economic times since the Depression, insert “Green Energy” into every other sentence.

Jan is a pilot, an alpaca farmer, an expert in health care administration, and a former security officer. She’s also a 100% pro-life Christian, a Mom, a gun-rights advocate, and has a common sense approach to governing. She is truly the ONLY viable choice for representation in the 29th District. Visit her website at www.janiceforcongress.com. Write her in and make more history.

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of...Words

2010-01-21T14:08:00.000-08:00

Abortion defenders find themselves arguing a difficult case when it comes to negligent homicide of the unborn.

"They were in my arms. I was holding them, these perfectly formed, beautiful babies. For Vermont to say they were not human, not children...I was amazed." [photo here, interview here]

Whether conservative or liberal, Republican or Democrat, pro-choice or pro-life, these words should give every American pause.

Patricia Blair was driving home with her husband and children last August when a stoned twenty-two-year-old crossed the median and hit her vehicle head-on. She and her husband were injured and taken to the hospital, where Patricia was told she needed surgery to deliver her two six-month-old unborn twins. Suffering from placenta abruptio, a condition where the placenta peels away from the uterine wall, thereby denying the fetus oxygen, one of her babies' heartbeat had already stopped, and doctors told her the other baby's best chance was to get her out as quickly as possible via caesarean section. Patricia woke up and was told that she'd lost both of her babies.

Her grief was about to be compounded in ways she never imagined: the police blotter and news accounts said there were "no fatalities." Although the driver of the other vehicle was to be charged with gross negligence (and other drug-related charges) for the injuries Blair and her husband received, her children, Harley and Kaleb, were nonentities according to the state of Vermont. What could have changed that?

Words.

Current Vermont law states that in order for a fetus to be considered anything more than a fetus, it must be breathing. Likewise, the statutory definition of an "illegal abortion" in Vermont reads that someone must "willfully administer" anything with "intent" to procure a miscarriage. Whether or not the fetus is "wanted" or "unwanted" -- the still-famous mantra used by the pro-abortion movement -- also has no bearing on whether or not an injustice has occurred. The unborn child of a woman who intends to get an abortion apparently receives just as much (or just as little) protection as the unborn child of a woman who nurtures that child, loves that child, and names that child.

Breathing. Willful. Intent. Wanted. Unwanted.

Words were supposed to mean things in the The Unborn Victims of Violence Act of 2004 as well, and those who opposed it moved quickly to make certain that statements could not be misconstrued. Senator Dianne Feinstein (D-CA) and Congresswoman Zoe Lofgren (D-CA) offered "single-victim substitute" proposals. Their solution? Criminal penalties for an "interruption to the normal course of the pregnancy," a suggestion also made by a state senator who wanted to help Patricia Blair. She was not exactly impressed.

"So there's no difference if the interruption kills my babies or my babies live? The state does everything in its power to make sure my baby is healthy -- insurance, food, and all sorts of assistance. They want your baby to be healthy, but don't care if your baby dies."

Likewise in New York State, where you can receive heaping amounts of subsidies for your "wanted" child, legislators want to make certain that if your wife, girlfriend, daughter, or sister is assaulted, resulting in the death of her unborn child, the violent criminal would face a minimal increase in penalties. How? The proposed and now tabled Reproductive Health Act seeks to change the current wording in homicide law. At present, the killing of an "unborn child" after twenty-four weeks of pregnancy is homicide. But under a separate statutory provision presented in RHA, a "person" that is the victim of a homicide is defined as a "human being who has been born and is alive." The act also would declare that termination of the pregnancy without consent or a criminal act, such as driving while under the influence, constitutes a "serious physical injury" to the woman, a term that is already used in New York State insurance laws. How comforting. The consequences for causing a child's death -- a wanted, loved, named child who is mourned by family, friends, and community -- can be addressed only via lawsuits.

Person. Injury. Interruption. Single-victim.

Vermont State Senator Vince Illuzzi (R-Essex-Orleans) joined Patricia's battle. Though he considers himself pro-choice, this month he sponsored S.175, the Fetus As A Victim Act, or Fetal Homicide Bill. Its basic tenet is that a fetus be treated as a victim under state homicide law if the death results from a DUI and/or grossly negligent operation of a motor vehicle. In spite of being oh-so-very careful with the wording of the bill ("[it] shall not apply to acts performed during an abortion ... or to acts committed by a pregnant woman toward her own unborn child"), pro-abortion representatives such as Rachel Weston (D-Chittenden-3-3) are reeling with the usual concerns that this bill could "erode" a woman's right to choose. She claimed that the bill could have "unintended consequences on women's health."

I'm wondering if Weston considered the "unintended consequence" of getting into a car while high, slamming into a car loaded with kids, and killing two babies?

"I called the local Planned Parenthood...I've always thought I was pro-choice. They told me they couldn't get involved because it might affect "women's choices." My choice was taken from me against my will. I'm the most non-political person in the world, but when things happen to you, you do what you have to do and learn what you have to learn. Because I do not want any other mother to experience this. Ever."

The pro-abortion feminist needs to ask herself the question: Is this really a place where I want to be? A place where a perceived constitutional guarantee, a supposed health care right, a virtual sacrament to every child-bearing female in the world, has to be argued not with biology, philosophy, theology, or even law, but with childish semantics akin to Clinton's infamous "it depends on what the meaning of the word 'is' is"?

The most eloquent statements come not from the politicians or lawyers, but from women like Patricia Blair who are just living their lives, raising families, and finding themselves unwillingly enmeshed in a political battle because of...words. The first female presidential candidate, Victoria Woodhull, said these words:

"The rights of children as individuals begin while yet they remain the fetus ... Every woman knows that if she were free, she would never bear an unwished-for child, nor think of murdering one before its birth."

It has now been thirty-seven years since Roe v. Wade. With thirty-five states having similar statues as the federal Unborn Victims of Violence Act, can the remaining fifteen (such as Vermont and New York) truly declare that the women who reside in those states are free?

How the Hell has it Come to This?

2009-08-07T16:14:00.000-07:00

AMY MCMANUS' SITE
Watching the news anymore is unadulterated chastisement. Why do I allow myself to be punished with bombardments such as our tax dollars promoting pornography, a shadow government of forty-plus members (and counting) hiding behind the equally dubious term “czar,” concerned citizens being called “extremists,” and advisors to our President claiming that our economic woes are over because Google searches for “economic depression” have gone down?
Add into the mix the blasted commercials that, despite my most valiant efforts, have been cemented to memory. Better. New. Improved. Convenient. Look younger, stronger, sexier. Buy now, pay later. A pill, cream, lotion, spray for every miniscule discomfort.
Are these the things that now define the United States?
I think therefore I consume. I consume, therefore I am in need. I am in need, therefore someone else should take care of me.
Our country is, indeed, going to Hell in a hand-basket.
I look at my children and wonder what kind of future they will have, more importantly, what kind of choices they will have in determining their future, and I wonder how on earth things have gotten so utterly out of control.
We hear about FDR—yeah, that’s when it all started. That damned New Deal.
Really?
How about further back? Wilson? Teddy Roosevelt?
Not so much.
Since the inception of this nation, man has been pulled into the direction of a more progressive republic. Hamilton feared anarchy and promoted a strong federal government, Jefferson feared tyranny and promoted decentralization. Both concepts were essentially embraced by the Constitution with the hopes of providing necessary equilibrium, and both concepts have continually been battling against each other these last two centuries.
Mankind has always argued with itself. It has also continually fought its baser desires—lust, rage, dishonesty. What is different now is that our politicians have become both the anarchists (creating laws but not following them, ignoring their judges/constituents) and the tyrants (think Salary Czar and Federal Reserve Chairman). With capitalism and technological advances beyond our imagination, the worst of these desires, sloth, has married another devil, arrogance. Seeming to work separately and pretending to abhor each other, they conspire together to devise distinct and detailed mechanisms to “transform America.”
Laziness is, unfortunately, inherent. We overcome this instinct by the fact that we are hungry and thirsty and cold. Therefore, moved by our distress, we follow the urgings of our God-given intellect and do something amazing.
We work.
We dig ditches. We design buildings. We write and paint and run cash registers and take care of our children.
Then, moved by God-given compassion, we find ourselves assisting others. Assisting those who perhaps are not as driven, not as emotionally well adjusted, not as energetic. All the while surpassing our own dreams of what we thought we were capable of because we find that the sense of achievement, that sigh at the end of the day, rejuvenates us in such a way that work becomes a part of who we are, not just something we do.
There are those producers who allow an ugliness to creep in, a prickling sentiment that they are better than their neighbors. Well-educated. More refined. Ambitious. These producers, these people who once regarded work as a means to benefit the self (and the self’s family), become convinced that it is unjust that they have succeeded. Guilt—not the sort of true shame that comes from doing something wrong but a false humility brought about by fellow elitists and entertainers—becomes the impetus that leads them to believe that the power they have attained (honestly or deceptively), must be used to help their fellow man.
They then enjoin themselves to the political class and embark on a seemingly altruistic plan: to force fellow workers to dig ditches, design buildings, write, paint and run cash registers for the sole purpose of helping said fellow humans.
But soon the satisfied pleasure attained through the non-work of these former producers becomes a euphoric drunkenness that must be sated on deeper, more sinister levels.
Fueled by consumerism, those who are subjected to the political class begin to confuse need with want. When those wants are not fulfilled this group of subjects feel helpless. Those who have finally been helped end up becoming dependent.
And the Patricians, their ability to generate an item of worth long forgotten, toss aside all veneers of law, faith, and common sense to embark on turning the Plebeians into slaves.
For it is in slavery that the politician’s own, newfound laziness and ubiquitous arrogance find the fruition of power.
These individuals of power, these limbs on a rotting tree of oligarchy, are entrenched not only in our government (how many millionaires does it take to not read a bill?), but in our churches (social justice=ministerial laziness), our schools (2+2=5), and our media (Obama is “above the world—sort of God”).
And we, the “still-producing,” are frozen where we stand in our homes and workplaces because we’re afraid to speak our mind.
Racists! Nutjobs!
Abraham Lincoln, who saw the best and the worst in the American citizen, put it this way:

"Beavers build houses; but they build them in nowise differently, or better now, than they did, five thousand years ago. Ants, and honey-bees, provide food for winter; but just in the same way they did, when Solomon referred the sluggard to them as patterns of prudence. Man is not the only animal who labors; but he is the only one who improves his workmanship."

Nothing the government does “improves workmanship.” Our leaders are most certainly not interested in improving our lives. Their vision is simple: retain their own power through the enslavement of the pseudo-citizen.
And so here we are.
Rome may not be burning, but the sparks are flying, the coals are smoldering, and soon we may well fall.
Unless the producers show some testicular moxy and say enough is enough.

Amy McManus
amycmcmanus@google.net
Hornell, NY

Ghana blog

2009-07-22T11:38:00.000-07:00

AMY MCMANUS' WEBSITE
I am pleased to write you this after returning from the Upper West Region of Ghana, Africa with two youths and two other adults. I thank you all for your prayers regarding our safety and health on the trip. I especially thank all of the donors and benefactors who helped make this trip possible. Although it is difficult to find words to describe the amazing journey we took, I shall try to impart to you some of the main events and the feelings they evoked.
I need to first thank Father Peter for hosting us and being our protector, guide, and friend as we traveled across the country of Ghana. Any of us who know Father Peter—his warmth, his humor, his generosity, would find all of those traits expanded as we watched his personality overflow in his home country. He is a remarkable man and our love for him increased exponentially with each passing day. On behalf of my fellow travelers, I say to Father Peter, “barka!”
This kind of trip is difficult physically, mentally, and emotionally. Nearly all of us had several bouts of heat exhaustion, stomach issues, and severe carsickness. The word “infrastructure” has taken on a whole new meaning for me. It is the source of any economic hardship or triumph in the country. There are few traffic lights in the cities. Imagine the chaos of leaving Ralph Wilson stadium after a Bills game, multiply it by ten thousand, and add about five people per car to account for the vendors who weave in and out of traffic trying to sell their wares. This is what you experience when entering or exiting the capital city of Accra. Likewise a trip to the north that for us would take about eight hours took fourteen hours on one occasion and eighteen on another. 90% of the roads in the north country are dirt and filled with enormous potholes. In hindsight this hardship was necessary in order to experience, even partially, what the average Ghanaian undergoes on a daily basis. The phrase first used by Fr. Peter (a long, humorous story!) of “more or less” became our motto, as any traveling done in Ghana cannot be timed accurately. There are too many factors to take in, and out of necessity one had to learn the art of patience immediately. “How long before we get to Damango, Father?” “Four Hours.” “More or less?” Laughter and a nod. “More or less.”
Our first twenty-four hours were spent in the city, and after the day-long journey north we met Father Cyracus Tang, pastor of Our Lady of the Nativity, his assistant Father James (a gentle soul who lovingly nursed one of us suffering from heat exhaustion for nearly two hours the following day), and various seminarians and staff. We were warmly greeted by the standard Ghanaian “You are welcome,” fed, and escorted to our guest house (a ten minute drive).
Our first welcome at the presbytery (rectory) was an emotional experience. I found myself weeping as I thanked them for welcoming us…within the first few days their loving hearts had already touched me deeply. Father Peter, ever wise, exhorted each of us to come out of our comfort zones and reach out in conversation with each other. There had been much staring and hesitancy—fear mixed with excitement on both sides and his instructions were needed. We were able to take the leap and shared stories about America, our families, and our Faith. Their incredible smiles, sense of humor, intellect, and friendliness quickly melted away any anxiety we had been feeling. We were presented with traditional goat soup—an honor and an indication that you are “most welcome.”
Through the entire week, we were taken care of by Peter and Francisca Kuuire. Peter was our ever-faithful landlord who made sure the generator was on to run our fans, the transportation was on its way, and that much-loved items such as popcorn were occasionally delivered! A sweet man devoted to his parish, humble and jovial “Mr. Peter” was a joy.
Personally I can say I learned the most about this country through Francisca—who through much hardship and life-changing events remains faithful to God and is an exemplary model of the Ghanaian woman’s typical dedication to serving others with self-sacrifice. Many of the women keep their emotions in check, but as we we were leaving, she held my hand and I could see unshed tears in her eyes. She adopted Hannah and Chris as her children, and I declared her as my sister. It is amazing that one human being can love another human being with such intensity after only one week. Her daughter, Rita, came home from college for holiday within a few days of our visit, and we were able to begin a great friendship with her. Rita called a few days ago…Francisca unfortunately ended up in the hospital shortly after we left, stricken with Malaria. She is recovering but please keep her in your prayers.
In those first few days, we met the elders and chiefs of the surrounding villages. We were given a gift (again a goat!) and warmly greeted. Most notably, one of the elders said to me, “I have nothing to give you, no bread, no rice, no goat. I am happy to even have shoes. All I can give you is my faith. I am nothing, but today I am thinking, who am I that God would bless me with your presence here? Praised be to God.” I could not help but think of Elizabeth, greeting Mary: “Who am I that the Mother of my Lord should come to me?” When I returned to our room that evening I wept.
Mono-theism and Christianity are infused into Ghanaian culture. In Kumasi or Accra, you see shops called “Jesus Saves Beauty Salon” or “God Forgives Auto Parts.” It is religious freedom in its purest form, with no lobbying groups or governing agencies forcing political correctness or separation of church and state. Even the country’s official 50 Year Anniversary logo had the Ashanti symbol for “Except for God” imbedded in the “0.” This symbol could be seen in clothing, furniture, our room key rings—nearly everywhere. It means everything is nothing, except for God. It encompasses perfectly the Ghanaian heart.
Each day towards evening we were taken to different villages to be officially welcomed by the people. We were greeted with traditional song and dance, and each venue became more and more elaborate. Most notably, a group of girls at Pisie from the Children of Mary sang a song called “Empty Hands.” To sum it up, the people in these remote villages come to visitors with nothing to give but their love for God and each other. Again several of us were moved to tears. They may indeed
have empty hands, but their hearts are full—so full that their love overflowed into our hearts. More gifts followed: two hens, a rooster, eggs, gourd pottery and spoons, an altar cloth, and another goat. We especially enjoyed the Bawa dancers and the xylophone.
The first Mass we attended was a funeral. Thousands of villagers gathered in a field to mourn a sixty-year old woman who had perished suddenly from an asthma attack. Fr. Cyracus delivered a twenty-minute homily in the heat of midday sun. Fr. Cyracus is a passionate man—exuberant laughter and conversation are his hallmarks. Therefore, though he spoke in Dagaare, his preaching moved us deeply. You could sense in his voice that he was challenging his parishioners. You laughed when the listeners laughed. You could feel his love for God and his people. I found myself crying (as did another traveling companion) and we told him how much he inspired us. “You understood it?” “No, not a word!” More laughter.
Our welcoming Mass was incredible—you have not heard true worship music until you have participated in an African Mass—trumpets, xylophones, drums and singing with eerily beautiful harmonies with 1,000+ parishioners! Yet very reverent with a lot of bowing and incense. And the beauty of being Catholic is that even though not a word of it was in English, we could follow the Mass parts and place our hearts and minds into each prayer and song. Chris Walsh and Hannah Mikolajczyk were altar servers—Hannah being the first female server in the history of the parish. This was a great honor and she was very moved by the experience. Fr. Cyracus said, “when you come back, you will see girls on the altar, and it will all be because of you!” We were introduced to the parishioners at the conclusion of Mass, and afterwards were greeted by hundreds.
Life in the north country is rife with hardship. The agricultural communities had not gotten the rain they needed (this was also why the heat was unusually intolerable for us) and all they could do was pray that God would give them relief. Most of the villagers are up before 5AM and work in the heat until sunset, about 6:30PM. They toil for the most basic needs, and use everything with little waste. They thank God for their “abundant” blessings and get up the next day to start all over again. It was difficult to return home and see all of our “stuff.” I wonder who is better off…the physically impoverished or the spiritually impoverished? America is a great country, but as I told the group as they sent us off, if we had the hearts of Ghanaians, we could be immensely better.
I cannot underestimate the beauty of the children! They are joyous, faith-filled, generous, and strong physically and mentally. The Ghanaian education system, most especially the Catholic schools in the north country, is exceptional, far exceeding our own. At first the intense looks the people gave us (we were told some of them had never seen a white person, at least not up that close!) were disarming, but once you smiled or waved, their faces exploded into huge, toothy grins that would soften the hardest of hearts. The people have African birth names but are also given beautiful Christian (“known as”) names. We met some of the village boys: Polycarp, Felix, Brunus, Virtus, Virgil, Alex, David, and Isidore. And the girls: Isidore’s older sister, Sweet Irene and her baby Teresa, cousins and neighbors Charity, Agnes, Josephina, Evelyn, baby Francisca, and Benice. Benice, taken in by Francisca so she could go to school, had a beautiful singing voice but is very shy (and stubborn, Francisca told us!). She finally sang for me briefly with Irene accompanying, on our last day—a song about Jesus, of course.
Our send off with the Pastor, priests, seminarians, elders, staff, and sisters took its toll emotionally. Each group’s spokesperson gave heartfelt thanks and Fr. Peter implored each of us to build on this relationship and to continue to grow as co-disciples of Christ. We were given more gifts: beautiful, hand-made clothing and another altar cloth. Tears were shed, more goat soup was eaten (or attempted to eat!), laughter was abundant, we stepped inside for dinner, and then…
…it finally rained.
“God is good,” I said.
“All the time,” Rita added.
This visit was most certainly not about Americans bringing mission to Ghana. It was about the Ghanaians bringing mission to us. Due to their humility, they would deny this, but I can assure you we feel it most immensely. Any material riches we have are far surpassed by the spiritual and emotional riches of the people of Ko, Nandom, Pisie, and the surrounding communities. I wished I could bring each and every one of them back with me. With this trip and Fr. Peter’s blessing, I would like to adopt Our Lady of the Nativity in Ko as our sister Parish. I hope this is the beginning of a long and strong relationship where we are able to communicate regularly with the people of the north and establish connections that enable us to assist them materially. Most importantly, we can allow them to assist us spiritually. I can assure you that each of us can learn much from them—in ways we never imagined possible.
Finally I would like to say to all of our new friends: Francisca, Fr. Cyracus, Fr. James, Doris (the cook), Peter, Rita, Romulus, Elvis and his Father, Nicodemus, Andrus, Presca, Fernanda, the chiefs and elders, Sr. Johanna, Sr. Rosemary and the sisters, Francis, Fr. Jacob, Roland, Luke, Noel, Fr. Richard (ministering in South Africa whom we traveled with), Fr. Carlus, my hero Dr. Dekabo, Fr. Sylvester and Fr. Peter C. (thanks for the American food!), everyone else we came to contact with, with apologies for not remembering specific names, and with much love—Baaki, our saintly driver, whom I was finally convinced was actually human only when I hugged him and found him to be more than spirit,
BARKA, BARKA, BARKA!

Ghana pics

2009-07-22T11:26:00.000-07:00

AMY MCMANUS' WEBSITE

Ghana 2

2009-07-22T11:19:00.000-07:00

AMY MCMANUS' WEBSITE
At the near-conclusion of our mission trip to West Africa, I had to be taken to the hospital in a major city of Ghana this past July 2009. Anyone who really wants universal health care needs to spend time in the hospital of a developing country.
Firstly, thank God my Pastor's brother-in-law is a doctor of internal medicine at said hospital. He met us there at 3AM, but not through the regular emergency or registration doors. We entered the hospital through a seldom-used lobby (not a soul in sight) and the doctor escorted me to the elevator and up to the second floor surgical unit, where he literally looked through doors to find me a bed. Although they did not tell me directly, I strongly suspect that they basically snuck me in. As an American not registered with their health care, it is probable that I would have either been turned away or would have waited for hours (as long as 24, I was told).
I was in severe pain so was unable to really take in what was around me, but as I recovered I was able to walk around and observe the conditions.
I can honestly say that the care I received was excellent insofar as vitals checked, pain relief given, record-keeping, concern of the staff, etc. But I can also say that it is generally known that they practice very conservative medicine by necessity. To keep costs down, there is not a lot of testing—I had no bloodwork done and the only test I received was a sonogram performed in a room that appeared to have double duty as storage. Cost cutting is also evident aesthetically—it was not exactly the cleanest of places. No private bath, most patients were being cared for in an open room (looked like it could hold about 30 people, I counted 15). Upon arrival, I was given a roll of toilet paper and a liter of water and told to "pay now." Through clenched teeth I referred the woman to my Pastor out in the hall. There were no wastebaskets—had to walk down to the hall to throw out some tissues in a trash can at the corner of a room. You can imagine what that looked like. Not very sanitary. Not private at all, either.
Since I had experienced this medical issue before, I was able to tell the doctor what I thought was going on (ruptured, bleeding ovarian cyst). My hospital-mate, Stella, and a medical student were surprised I had not been given a laparoscopy. I did not tell them that I “knew” the doctor. I’m surmising that a laparoscopy may actually be a cheaper, quicker way to diagnose, rather than performing half a dozen tests such as MRI’s, bloodwork, or CAT scans.
Thankfully I recovered within 48 hours. But here's the best part: they did not want me to leave until I paid the bill. A man stood at the door and would not allow me and my companions to exit. Meanwhile, my pastor and his sister (the doc's wife), were in a very austere room with what I thought was a very frightening-looking man, "arranging payment." I assured the "guard" that my "benefactor" was taking care of the bill at that very moment. I batted my eyelashes a bit, and he let me go...I believe the blond hair, green eyes and pale skin helped. Ghanaians are fascinated with "abroni," white people.
Long and short of it is that my pastor and his brother paid my bill—I wept tears of joy upon hearing this—they are generous Catholics but I can honestly say that there must have been some pressure and concern on their parts. My insurance company has assured me that if I submit a copy of the bill, I can eventually remit payment to this caring, brave, and thorough doctor in Ghana.
I can honestly say that as far as the people and the medicine are concerned, I have no issues with the basic health care I received. However when you add everything else, such as the fact that I may have been given special treatment (a realization that actually pains me and gratifies me at the same time), it is most certainly not what Americans are used to nor what we deserve, being the premiere medical provider of the world. It is a way to bring the health of millions of people up to a very basic level in order to lift the general prosperity. I attended a funeral for a woman who died of an asthma attack at age 60. You can see how a country cannot "develop" when its health is so poor. However, it is not really “free.” Even the insured need a huge wad of cash to get "released.” They have to separately pay for anesthesia, food, toilet paper, water, drugs, and bring their own pillow & sheet. Many Ghanaians in the north do not bother with applying for the insurance, as it requires a day’s travel to Accra with fee and documentation—a traveling expense that they simply cannot afford. Having witnessed the poverty in Ghana, I can understand why a young country would want to fund universal health care.
But we are not West Africa. I adore the Ghanaian people, and they deserve better. So would we in America. I have personally experienced what I know we'd become if we had universal health care. Reform from within, forget this massive entitlement.
Incidentally we were in Ghana while the Obamas were there. I was so looking forward to escaping him. Bummer. I'd really like to see how Michele Obama would fair were she in my shoes. Ghanaians love him...'til I tell them about him. Yes I have done my global duty. More on that later.
I guess God wanted me to experience more of the Ghanaian people—their faith, kindness, and good humor—and to look at an issue with a fresh eye. I have changed my mind about the concept of universal health insurance. But not about universal health insurance for America. No way.