Fake News is Propaganda by Any Other Name

It shouldn’t be any surprise that Joseph Goebbels, Adolf Hitler’s Propaganda Minister’s credited with saying, “A lie told once remains a lie but a lie told a thousand times becomes the truth.”

The quote is highly reflective of our fake-news media. And the irony is that it’s a form of soft-propaganda because it’s been repeated so often we have come to think of the ‘lie becoming the truth,’ as being true.

During the late 60s and early 70s we were constantly fed stories that proved that the people marching, protesting and violently demonstrating in the streets across the U.S. not only had the right, but were righteous because of whatever cause they were espousing. However, the real under pinning to any and all of these made-for-news events was simply a defiance of authority.

Eventually, these same violent demonstrators, protestors and marchers grew up to become the gatekeepers to that very same institutional authority they sought to defy. As the threat to our national security intensified and our sense of liberty faded, these same people have attempted to create a slowly-rising utopian society.

And for the last eight-years, that creation seemed to be coming to fruition. But, as every man and woman, educated in the ways of liberty, understands that Utopia on earth cannot exist – and the closest human kind has every come to this dream is through the U.S. Constitution.

We’re now watching the same thing happen as the fake-news media peddles its soft-propaganda, electronically celebrating the people exercising their righteous indignation at authority. From clamoring for shared the wealth, stopping police on Black violence, to advocating for abortion and battling a supposed Muslim immigration ban, we are witnessing our nation being torn apart by a power that doesn’t exist except through the will of the people.

It’s time to recognize this ‘style of journalism,’ for what it really is and to call it by its real name – propaganda — and to begin countering it with the truth.

Banning Muslims isn’t a Trump Thing Only

It’s not jus’ the news media that’s ‘fake,’ so is the Democratic Party. After all, for all its purported indignation over the so-called “Muslim ban” one would think they’ve never supported such a thing. But then, that’s where the ‘fakery,’ comes in.

In 2011, the Obama Administration stopped processing Iraqi refugee requests for six months after discovering that Waad Ramadan Alwan and Mohammed Shareef Hammadi, two known al Qaeda-Iraq terrorists, had entered the U.S. as refugees. In fact, Alwan had built bombs in Iraq that killed U.S. soldiers and still he made it into the U.S.

The State Department, which Hillary Clinton led at that time, was in charge of refugee requests when the ban was imposed. Given the fact that the majority of the population in Iraq is Muslim — this is a Muslim ban — like the one President Trump recently signed temporarily halting immigration from Syria and other countries.

Simply put, the Democrats, through Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, supported a ban against refugees from a Muslim country before, but the media with it’s marching and protesting allies in the streets and judges in the courthouse, are doing their best to keep this fact hidden.

The Fake Battle over the Southern Wall

In May of 2011, then-President Obama proclaimed ‘completed’ a security fence along the border between the U.S. and Mexico  Yet, there are records indicating that the fence was not finished and that the monies to be used for that construction were spent elsewhere.

This research comes on the heels of President Trump ‘ordering,’ Congress to build the wall. His ‘ordering’ of Congress appeared on the surface as unconstitutional, but after learning a few obscure facts behind Trump’s Executive Order, it is completely valid and in line with the U.S. Constitution.

Over 10 years ago – October 26, 2006 to be exact – Congress passed and George Bush signed into law, the ‘Secure Fence Act,’ creating funding for a 700-mile long fence along that same border. So far, the Government Accounting Office hasn’t been able to answer what became of the $1.2 billion that Congress authorized to build it.

Finally, no one, including Democrats, Republicans or the media, brought up the 2006 Act during the run-up to the Presidential election. Instead the Washington D.C. power-elites and their cronies created the false narrative that Trump is a ‘racist’ and a ‘bigot,’ all the while knowing that this act existed.

We’ve been lied to again and cannot let down our guard now — or ever!

DHS and the Two-Party Veep Creep

The two-party system is not in the U.S. Constitution, and they are not a part of the federal government. Rather they are a private corporate club, and to actually become a card-carrying member, you must pay to join.

This means that the primary gathering and the election are nothing more than a paid get-together for factions within the political parties to lobby and push for one candidate over another. Finally, there is absolutely nothing about this that is constitutional.

On the other hand, the Electoral College is in the U.S. Constitution. It’s designed as a check and balance against the possibility of any political party gaining autocratic control over the election system and it’s supposed to keep that power within the wheelhouse of the States.

But now the federal government wants to take control of the election system through an unconstitutional agency borne out of fear and a desire for security over liberty. The Department of Homeland Security has issued a policy change denoting the system as a part of the U.S. ‘infrastructure,’ which DHS wants to ‘protect.’

Finally, we haven’t had a truly constitutional presidential or vice-presidential election in this nation since before Franklin Delano Roosevelt. And no, the U.S. Constitution was not changed allowing this to happen – Congress simply ignored its duty and it has never reverted back since FDR.

On nine occasions in our nation’s history, the Vice-President has assumed the Presidency. This means should this happen now, that person will have been elected via a political party structure and not the pure-will of the people, making the Constitution’s checks and balances ‘null-and-void.’

It is time to abolish the two-party system, the DHS and return the Vice-President’s election to its constitutional origin.

The Fostering Hand

“True liberty needs a fostering hand.” – Federal Farmer #8

Little attention’s being paid to the confirmation hearings.  They have become nothing more than a rubber stamp process, a mere formality, but they are constitutionally necessarily.

Such hearings are a part of the checks and balances built into the U.S. Constitution and without them the Executive branch becomes an oligarchy. This is what happened throughout the Obama Administration, where time and again nominees were given a pass by the Senate.

Over the years the American people have come to believe that every nominee proffered by the administration must emulate the ideology of the President. This couldn’t be farther from the truth, as each nominee should be dedicated to liberty first as described in our Constitution.

Our liberty – our grandchildren and their grandchildren’s liberty – depends on our duty to stay alert to the application of the Constitution. Liberty needs teaching from generation to generation, if not in public and private school, then at home as the Progressive media will continue to obfuscate the truth.

Executive Orders Be Damned!

It’s disheartening to watch the same pattern continue from one administration to the next as President Trump appears to waste Legislative governance in favor of Executive Orders and Actions. This isn’t what the American people voted for.

Certainly the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) should be ignored. The TPP is not really an agreement as mush as it is an unconstitutionally negotiated treaty that has never been ratified by a two-thirds majority of the Senate.

Furthermore, the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action, better known as the Iranian nuclear deal has never been ratified either. And it doesn’t matter how many Senators signed a letter sent to Iran claiming Obama was within his purview to negotiate an ‘Executive Agreement,’ because such terminology isn’t in the U.S. Constitution.

As for the Affordable Healthcare Act, better known as Obamacare, it will take some extra work by Congress to unwind the boondoggle. Since having been ratified by the Senate, it’ll have to pass that way again for it to be completely dismantle it.

On the upside, there is a way to ‘slay this Progressive dragon,’ and that’s by using the U.S. Constitution against its Judicial support. Since The supreme Court decided it is a tax, and created in the Senate and not the House, where ALL bills dealing with taxation must originate, the law can and should be held fully unconstitutional.

There will be even more work needed when it comes to the 23-year old North American Free Trade Agreement, or NAFTA. First, NAFTA will need to be renegotiated, then ratified a second time by the Senate.

But what is most troubling is the signing of an Executive Action for the construction of a security wall along the U.S.’s southern border. It would have been better for President Trump to direct Congress to write and pass a single-paged bill ready for his signature.

Our Constitutional Republic is in grave-peril and the Trump administration needs to move away from all these newly-minted Executive Orders and Actions and allow the U.S. Constitution to work for the American people and for Liberty, not the oligarchs of the recent past.

Apathy is the Wolf at the Door

Part of me wants to expose all the ‘Nasty Women” who stepped on stage during protests aimed at disrupting the Progressive media’s coverage of President Trump’s inaugural celebration and first actions taken after entering the White House, but that’s was they want – the distraction. Instead I choose to ignore the distractions and deceivers and press onward, upward and toward liberty.

By my accounting, the danger isn’t necessarily in the distraction or the deceivers – rather it lies with the apathetic. So, what does ‘apathy,’ mean? It is a lack of interest, enthusiasm, concern, indifference, unresponsiveness, impassivity, dispassion, lethargy and languor to state a few.

This is a warning from God to those who fall under one of these many descriptive terms:

“I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”

— Revelation 3:15-16

At the same time God says in Zephaniah 1:12 —

“At that time I will search Jerusalem with lamps and punish those who are complacent, who are like wine left on its dregs, who think, ‘The Lord will do nothing, either good or bad.’”

Because He will do as he has promised in Hosea 4:6 —

“(M)y people are destroyed from lack of knowledge. Because you have rejected knowledge, I also reject you as my priests, because you have ignored the law of your God, I also will ignore your children.”

And if being ignored isn’t enough to get your apathy in check, consider the fact that God has spoken, saying:

“If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them.”

— James 4:17

The time is now to stop hiding from the reality that your nation needs you  — Liberty calls in a frail voice after eight-years of suborned injury to our U.S. Constitution. If you don’t wish to stand in defense of Liberty for yourself, then consider your children, your grandchildren and their grandchildren.

You are the cornerstone upon which Liberty survives or parishes.

How to Fire a Senator

 

In 1912, Theodore Roosevelt, a Progressive Republican, wrongly forwarded the idea that the constant recalling of U.S. Senators by State’s in which they represented, creating temporary vacancies, was slowing down the federal process. So, he called for the U.S. Constitution to be amended, creating the ‘popular’ vote for federal Senator’s as we know it today.

Prior to this new amendment, the Seventeenth to be exact, Senators were appointed directly by their State’s Legislature. Because they were appointed, they were also subject to immediate recall.

Because of ‘immediate recall,’ most Senator’s were forced to conduct the State’s business and the people’s business. If a Senator failed to meet the State’s expectations then they were fired, sent packing and a new Senator, one that would do the people and the states bidding, was appointed.

In essence, the appointed Senator did not have the luxury of meeting full-time with lobbyists as they were constantly being scrutinized by their State’s Legislature, who in turn was under the watchful eye of the State’s Citizenry. This is another example of the ‘checks and balances’ the founders, so ingeniously created and enshrined in the U.S. Constitution.

Without this check and balance system in place, we are now subjected to six-year terms of soft tyranny. The first of these is the fact that professional politician’s return and return and return with the help of their cronies, though they’ve done little to forward their State’s objectives within the framework of the U.S. Constitution.

Worse yet, is the soft tyranny of what is known as ‘crony capitalism.’ Time and again, the newly minted-Senator goes to Washington D.C. in a near financial ruin, only to emerge a few years later as a millionaire while the people of the State reap no benefit from his work and he cannot be stopped because the State lacks control over him or her.

The only way to put a stop to these ‘legalized’ abuses is to repeal the Seventeenth Amendment and reinstate Article I, §3, Clauses 1 and 2 of the U.S. Constitution, under which Senators were elected by State Legislatures. This way, instead of finding ways to enrich themselves and their cronies, they will be forced to answer to their employer, We the People.

 

 

Name Tag

Last night, Mary and I celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary by going out to dinner. It wasn’t anything fancy mind you, jus’ a place where we could sit, be waited on and enjoy a good meal.

Our server was excellent. He was engaging and even had water right there even before Mary asked which rarely happens anymore.

As we were ordering, my OCD got the best of me and I had to interrupt him. I pointed out that his name tag was upside down, making it difficult to read.

He immediately stopped what he was doing and fixed it – which made me feel better. As he did he explained that he thought he had lost it because he couldn’t find it before leaving home. However, he discovered it in his locker when he got to work and quickly pinned it on without checking himself in the mirror.

There it was – a trigger to an old memory that really has no bearing anywhere other than to say it happened. The word ‘mirror,’ did it for me.

It was late-summer 1979 and I was in the U.S. Air Force at the time. My office was near the front entrance of the Warren Hospital in Cheyenne, Wyoming.

Why I was walking back to my office from the Flight Surgeons’ office, I don’t recall. But what I do remember is seeing my commanding officer seriously eyeballing-balling a Staff Sergeant who had jus’ come in out of the rain.

He had removed his rain coat and was simply standing in the foyer, looking lost. I intercepted him before Captain Covill could say anything to him.

“Ah, there you are,” I stated loudly, “come with me.”

The sergeant’s face crumpled into a serious state of puzzlement as he followed me into my office and into the interior room that wasn’t being used at the moment.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

“No,” I answered, “but my CO was getting ready to jump your ass because your name tag is on the wrong side.”

He looked down at his right pocket then to his left and exclaimed, “Oh shit!”

Without any prompting he began removing the tag to correct the problem. I could see his hands shaking uncontrollably as he fumbled with his shirt buttons, so I stepped up to help.

We got the situation corrected in no time and as we did he explained, “My wife is here, having our first child and I’m a little lost this morning.”

“No problem, Sarge,” I smiled, “I’ll escort you to the maternity ward once you’re buttoned up and ready.”

As we walked down the hallway to the ward, I could feel Covill’s hard stare burning a hole into me. I smiled all the way.

One Hairy Tale

Recently, a friend of mine sent me a story out of Orick, California, which is about 15 miles from my home town of Klamath. It brought to mind a memory of an event I experienced from my childhood.

It’s never been a secret with me that I’ve held a fascination with Bigfoot. It started as a very young kid, hearing tales from guy’s like Sandy Sanderson, who was a member of the Yurok Indian Tribe.

Later, I would have a chance to meet up with the legend and have my own tale to tell. Most of my time was spent alone as a kid, I don’t know why, but it was.

One day I was off in the woods south of High Prairie Creek and jus’ east of the trailer park of the same name. In the far distance I could hear the sound of the traffic as it raced by on U.S. 101.

As I recall it, I was simply exploring and wasting time playing with my ever present pocket knife. It was nothing at the time for me to be off playing in the forest as it was very different time in the world.

Suddenly, the cows that usually grazed in the pasture on the far side of the creek took off in a panicked run. This was followed by the mad dashing horses that also spent time in the same field.

I stopped to see what had spooked them.

As I looked around, I saw him. He was walking with a quick pace between the edge of the woods and the old barn nearby.

I felt a sudden fear and couldn’t breath as he looked over at me.

He was silent as he moved through the yellowing grass and never slowed down. This all happened in less than half-a-minute (my best guess all these years later.)

He disappeared into the bushes jus’ beyond the barn. As soon as he was gone I took off at in a mad dash to the trailer park. I wanted to be near people and civilization.

Later that night Mom washed my mouth out with soap for telling lies.

Another Ten-Year Flood Hits Northern Nevada

The rain came shortly after dark, replacing the snow showers from two-days before. Now the entire Truckee Meadows region braced for major flooding.

It wasn’t until after 2 pm that I ventured out. I had been at home monitoring the ditch in our backyard, and one I felt it wasn’t going to wash over I felt it was okay to leave for a few hours.

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Immediately, I found myself halted. Flooding had consumed the intersection of Pyramid Highway and Eagle Canyon Drive, the roadways I generally use to exit our neighborhood.

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The Nevada Department of Transportation trucks were halting traffic from turning right from Eagle Canyon onto Pyramid because of a blockage in one of the overflow pipes that were recently installed. I had to turn back and use Richard Springs Blvd. to David James Blvd. to get to Pyramid.

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Once in town I stopped at Paradise Park. Many of the old timers who recall when there wasn’t a park at the corner of Oddie Blvd and El Rancho Drive say that the area was always a flood plain and they one could tell how back an event would be by how much water collected in the basin.

Half of the park was underwater – I’d say that’s fairly bad.

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My next stop was in the parking lot of the former Siena Hotel-Casino between Lake and Center Streets in Reno. Yes, there are signs posted that no one is to park in the lot, but I took a chance anyway.

The Truckee River was a creamy brown and swift moving. It had come up to within a couple of feet of the older bridges, like the Center Street Bridge and the Sierra Street Bridge to the west.

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Reno’s newest bridge, built a couple of years ago, replacing the one that had been there since 1905, was holding its own. The river had plenty of clearance beneath, exactly as designed.

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Across the river from the Siena is a reserved looking building belonging to the AT&T Telephone Company; their doors barricaded with ten layers of sandbags.

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Walking across the street into the plaza, where the iron-worked “Believe” sculpture is on display I saw people in rain gear, umbrellas and cell phones scurrying about. Each one, like me, hoping to memorialize this year’s event in some personal way.

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Over head the Washoe County Sheriff’s Office’s RAVEN helicopter buzzed; no doubt looking for any possible trouble in the areas west of downtown as their streets began to fill with water.

In Southern California they’re called ‘Lookie-loo’s.” Here in Nevada, we refer to them as the curious and they lined up along the new Virginia Street Bridge to get a good view of the raging Truckee.

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A few more steps west and I found myself along the Plaza on the River. Here there were even more people as well as the camera crews to the three major TV news stations in the area.

Standing there for about 15 minutes, I watched as the water climbed the steps leading to the plaza. Since it was growing dark by then, and with the water creeping it way up each step, I decided it was time to vacate the area before being directed to by law enforcement or fire-fighters.

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Thankful to find my wet and chilled self seated in my truck, I decided to head east on Mill Street to see how far I could get before having to turn around. As I learned I could get all the way to McCarran Blvd., where Mill ends, but I had to turn around because of major flooding in the industrial section of Sparks.

Turning north on Rock Blvd, I stopped in the overpass and took a couple more pictures. One of the river itself, the other, a shot of the foot path that is usually 10 to 11 feet above the river bank, but which was now covered in muddy, brown water.

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With the sun quickly ducking below the Sierra, I continued north on Rock and back into Spanish Springs and home. While there was much flooding to be seen at the time as the snow continues to melt and the rains to fall.

After living here for 30-plus years, I’ve learned that the Truckee River will jump its banks every 10 years no matter what sort of flood mitigation man completes; it’s simply a matter of nature.

Icicles and Sunshine

Following a couple of night and days of cold, in this case below 10-degrees, it has been pleasant to feel some warmth on my exposed skin. Though there were still some high clouds, the sun managed to filter down giving the landscape of our backyard a slight glow.

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Grabbing my camera, I snapped a couple of pictures of what had once been a pristine five-inch layer of snow. But now, the dogs were dashing about enjoying the change of weather.

At least in the snow – you are able to figure out where and where not to step.

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Our neighbor’s have a beautiful plant that has volunteered itself to our yard by growing underneath the fence line. And though I’ve been told the name of the plant at least three times, I can never remember it when called upon.

Its orange-red buds remain while the rest of the plant has gone bare of leaves. These same buds look brilliant under a thick blanket of snow and even more brilliant with a wisp of sunshine reflecting off of them.

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Some even have icicles hanging from them.

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Looking at other plants in our yard, it was hard not to notice the ice that had frozen around the rose bushes, encasing each branch in a massive glazed chunk.

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Furthermore, the iron workings that surround my wife’s rose garden was also sheathed in a crystalline coating of once thawed-now frozen snow.

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By nightfall, rain clouds replaced the high clouds and the warmth had evaporated into the darkness. In it’s place came a heavy drizzle, which followed shortly by winds and an eight-hour long shower.

This is the perfect recipe for a flood — for which the entirety of Northeastern Nevada is now assembling against. I’m hoping it will be a flood like the one in 1986 – not 1997 and 2005.

Candy Boxes

Many times random memories, without a real beginning or an end, pop into my head and I write them down with the hope that they’ll form into something more meaningful. Many times though, they don’t and I’m left with nothing more than a scrap of papers with a few words scratched on it, collecting dust.

No more, I’m going to plain-old have it out from this point forward. This morning, as I was cleaning the kitchen counter, I opened the See’s box that had been there since Christmas morning.

Inside were five pieces of chocolate candies, each laced with a helping of almonds. I removed the candies and placed them in a dish on the counter, and proceeded to throw the now-empty box away.

As I did this, I thought, “This would make a wonderful pen and pencil holder.”

Jus’ a fast as the thought came to mind, I laughed and said, “No it wouldn’t – it’s not metal.”

With that my mind was off and running…

The first time I ever had a piece of See’s candy was in 1982. My girlfriend at the time, Cathy, had gone to Los Angeles with her mother to visit her grandma and she brought back a couple of boxes.

And though I have never been one for a lot of candy, it tasted marvelous. Unfortunately, I called the boxes of goodies a ‘Sampler,’ for which I caught hell, because See’s was not like “Whitman’s’ which had ‘commoner’ written all over it.

As a kid, we had Whitman’s Samplers every Christmas. It was a box filled with special treats that everyone could enjoy.

Even more special was a box of Russell Stover’s candies, on which my dad had been raised at Christmas time. The boxes we received were generally two-times the size of the Sampler and that made it all the more special to our family.

Being a strange child, I wasn’t as enthusiastic about the candy as I was about the container it came in. And for me, the Sampler ranked supreme as it was often delivered in a tin – perfect for pens and pencils.

I warned you – this tale had no particular ending or real beginning.

The Flood of 1997

A rainstorm that hit the region on December 30 and lasted until January 3 unleashed the Flood of 1997, the most devastating flood that Northern Nevada, Eastern California and Southern Oregon had seen in nearly a half century, wreaking devastation on communities while claiming two lives.

It was supposed to be my day off, but by mid-afternoon I was at work coordinating drivers and vehicles to help with the evacuation of people trapped in the flood zone as the Truckee River jumped its banks. This wasn’t how I had envisioned spending the first day of January.

Prior to this, I’d been on the phone with Kyle’s mother. Slightly panicked, she was in the process of leaving her and her husband’s home in Talent, Oregon because of the flooding they were experiencing.

As we were talking, the neighbor’s home slipped off its foundation and into the nearby Bear Creek. I told her to grab up her valuables and to get out immediately, that everything else can be replaced.

She, her husband, Kyle’s brother and his sister escaped to safety. As for Kyle, who was only four at the time, he was with Mary and me at the time. I should have known that this was only the beginning of a larger, longer and exhausting event.

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After establishing a command point at 85 Keystone, some four blocks from where the river was raging, we had pulled nine-people to safety who found themselves being flooded out along Riverside Drive. The street runs between Booth and Ralston, along the river.

While we were loading folks up to move them away from the danger, the Reno Fire Department was engaged in a rescue of at least ten kayakers who thought the flooding Truckee would make a wonderful play ground. What made is so dangerous is the fact that the water was racing out of Lake Tahoe at about 2,200 cubic feet per second – 17 feet high, five feet above flood stage and carrying with it bits of houses, entire cars and parts of the upstream forest.

Around 11 p.m., I had only two drivers standing-by to help with evacuations and I sent the dispatchers home for the night. Shortly after that the Reno Police closed down Mill Street east of U.S. 395 as well as Longley Lane and Rock Blvd. That told me that Reno-Tahoe International Airport was now underwater.

I didn’t leave until 3 a.m., only to return by 8 a.m.

The following day, I had a smaller team of drivers staged on Keystone again awaiting directions. By that time, we had learned that the Sparks industrial area was under five-foot of water and that one of CitiLift’s major client, High Sierra Industries, south of the Rattlesnake Mountain area was also underwater.

Eventually, I was instructed to move our command point to Second and Winter Streets. We had watched all morning long as the river slowly crept towards us, damaging one business after another, never quite reaching our newly established safe-zone.

It was about 11 a.m. when I got a call from a RFD Battalion Chief. He told me that they needed us to caravan to Swope Middle School where the Sierra Chapter of the American Cross had established an evacuation center. Evidently, some of the evacuees reported the odor of gas.

Within five minutes, I had vehicles lined up and waiting for our escort, an RPD Humvee. When we drove up across the street from the school, over four-dozen people were milling about in the school yard.

For the first and only time during the entire three-day ordeal I had to “pull rank and take name” as some fool was standing in front of the school puffing away on a cigarette. When I asked him to put the cigarette out, he told me where to stick it, further informing me that he was in charge of his people and that I had no say in the matter.

Fortunately, the police officer that had escorted our caravan to the school instructed the guy that I was indeed in-charge and I only had to say the word, and a ride free-of-charge could be arranged to the local lock-up. The officer pointed out that the situation to him was no longer a shelter or gas leak problem, but a transportation problem, thus leaving me to call the shots.

The man immediately snuffed his butt out and said nothing more. Secretly, I was happy he didn’t call mine or the officers bluff.

First, we loaded everyone who was able to walk. Some of them argued that they didn’t want to go and were told the same thing – which again ended any arguing. Since we had only one person using a wheel chair, I rolled him into my smaller van.

We moved to a designated point two blocks away to await the all-clear. A minute after the word came down that we could return to the school; a man in one of the vehicles suffered a heart attack.

Since we had an ambulance from REMSA in tow, they were able to being treatment of the man and get him to the hospital. Come to find out he’s been suffering chest pains since the night before. He survived the heart attack.

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The most harrowing event took place when we were summoned to a trailer park off of Dickerson Road, where an evacuation would become a rescue. When we arrived, the police were gathered about 100-feet from a trailer that had an elderly woman standing, frantically waving at them from the doorway.

Checking in, I learned they were waiting for the Swift Water Rescue Team to arrive and help pull her to safety. As we watched, the trailer’s wooden steps were swept away, causing the woman to panic worse than she had been.

Before long the trailer began shifting from it’s foundation. We didn’t have time to wait for the team and since we had the a high-clearance vehicle, I decided it was ‘now or never,’ when it came to getting the woman out of the trailer.

“If you don’t want to do this,” I told the driver, “you don’t have to. Jus’ get out of the seat and I’ll do it, okay?”

Without hesitation, he closed the doors to the vehicle, rolled down his side window, slipped the van into gear and slowly drove forward. He already had a plan in his head and it was the same as mine.

The water pushed the van back and forth, but failed to cause it to float, which was the biggest concern we had. Should the van begin to lose traction, we would have been force to back away and watch as tragedy took shape.

The driver (whose name I cannot remember) positioned the van as close to the door way as he could. He then leaned out the window and grabbed the woman by the arms and jerked into the window.

I initially had him by his pants belt to keep him anchored, next thing I know, I had her in my arms as we spilled onto the floor of the vehicle.

Without hesitation, the driver released the emergency brake, pulled the gear lever into reverse and backed out the way we had come in. As we reached safety, the woman’s trailer was struck by a log the size of telephone, causing the trailer to buckle, twist, roll-over and vanish into the muddy waters.

The woman, wet, and shivering from both fright and cold was taken to the hospital, where she was treated for shock and exposure. The driver and I returned to our assigned command post, knowing we’d done the right thing despite of the risk to ourselves and the van.

We caught real hell from the police, who wanted to arrest the pair of us for endangering our lives as we had.

Shortly after 5 p.m., January 2, we were released from our duty and we all returned to the yard. By the next day, the once swollen Truckee had slipped back between its banks and the clean up began for the towns and burghs affected by the flooding.

The following couple of days I attended several meetings meant to debrief those who had participated in the emergency and wrote ‘thank you’ notes to the businesses that supported my drivers as well as awarded certificated to those who helped in the evacuations. Much to my surprise and pleasure, nearly three months later I was given a certificate by my bosses, thanking me.

Today, exactly two-decades later, the weather forecast is sunny and a high of 42 for the in the Reno/Sparks area.