King Tut meets 2020 (and what I’ve learned)

I really wanted to write something wise and insightful about 2020. I would like to be that guy, you know the guy who people read and think, “Gee, I wish I was as wise and insightful.”

If you’ve made it past the first paragraph and still looking for something wise and insightful, you might want to jump back to the last site you were on and click on the link that says, “You won’t believe number 12” or “Gut Doctor says to throw out this vegetable immediately.” I got nothing, well pretty much nothing except for this flashback …


It was 1977, Tutmania was in full swing at the Field Museum in Chicago, as “The Treasures of King Tutankhamun” (the boy king of Egypt 3000 years earlier) came through town, breaking attendance records and adding millions of dollars to the city’s tourist trade and Mrs. Poppy and I were there to contribute our few dollars. We were newly married, we were naive, did not have much money, but we were on a mission to see the King Tut exhibit. Mind you, this was pre-internet, pre-GPS, we headed to Chicago without much of a plan, but armed with a AAA roadmap, some cash in my wallet, and cruising up I-55 in a lime-green AMC Gremlin …what could go wrong?


Not having reservations was a big mistake and not arriving until after dark didn’t help. After multiple failed attempts and many “No Vacancy” signs later we ended up at a luxury high-rise hotel on Lakeshore Drive.

We got a room.

It was a fabulous room with an incredible view of downtown Chicago. It also used up half of our budget for the entire trip. We retreated the next morning to a seedy little motel in a less than desirable part of town, but we persevered, toured other museums, and prepared for our date with King Tut.

We got up early and headed to the Field Museum, waited in our first line to get a number and approximate time for the second line (four or five hours later). Don’t remember what we did during those waiting hours, but I’m pretty sure my bladder was a lot stronger back then. Our time finally came and we were ushered in. It was worth the wait. The artistry, the engineering, the craftsmanship, the beauty of each ancient artifact was incredible. And I had a minor epiphany.

Those ancient Egyptians were just as intelligent as we were in 1977 (or now), maybe even more intelligent in some cases. We are all on version “Humanity 1.0,” sure our technology has changed, modern humanity does most things a lot faster, but not necessarily better. Humanity as an aggregate does not change that much over the millenniums. We have our up years and our down years. 2020 seems like a big deal to us now, because we are living it, it’s on our doorstep. I believe history will weigh 2020 as a middling year, certainly not our best and certainly not our worst.

I do believe though that 2020 gave us a little dose of steroids that amplified our personalities and natures. The politicians who were power-hungry and over-reaching in 2019 became just a little more power-hungry and over-reaching in 2020. The first responders who put their lives on the line last year, did so again this year, but with the added threat of an unseen enemy. Those humans who were prone to be selfish and self-centered the year before now had a horde of toilet paper in their basement. Fortunately, I believe those who were selfless and self-sacrificing also got a little boost this year.

Where does this leave us in 2021?

The transition from 2020 to 2021 is just another rotation of our planet, not much will change. A different year, a different U.S. president will not change us. And if you are looking to politicians, celebrities, and social media influencers for guidance, you are looking in all the wrong places, because they will always be working under the same operating system of “Humanity 1.0.”

If you are looking for guidance, if you are looking for hope, look to the One who wrote the software. Over the millenniums, despite our best attempts at self-destruction, we continue to bumble along, covered by Grace … and that won’t change in 2021.

Peace Poppy

The Death of Michael Brown, My Revelation of the Media, Tomorrows Election and My Faith in America

Our family lived in Ferguson for over 30 years. Most of those years even residents of St. Louis could not have found us on a map. That changed and we became one of the most famous or infamous cities in the nation if not the world.

I first heard of Michael Brown’s death not on the news, Facebook, or any other social media outlet, but in aisle 2 of what was then Ferguson’s Shop N Save. I was wheeling my cart down the aisle when I encountered a very agitated African-American woman who was telling another lady about someone who had been shot in the back 9 times by the police. (This is not about the accuracy of the lady’s account or the now disproven, “Hands Up, Don’t Shoot” scenario … bear with me.)

There was nothing I really needed in aisle 2, so I just backtracked and went down aisle 3. Of course by that time the agitated lady had circled around into aisle 3 and was still waxing on. After a few moments, she saw me, realized she was blocking the aisle, flashed me a smile said, “Sorry, ” and moved her cart over.

It was an epiphany for me.

By any normal standard … our dress, the contents of our shopping carts, our age, we were not on the same socio-economic strata, we were just two souls looking to buy some groceries. As a beyond mid-aged white male, I understood that I was not the focus of her frustration and anger, it went beyond that and beyond what I could truly grasp.

It went downhill from there.

“Ferguson” became clickbait. It was my first exposure to the lack of accuracy (or caring) by the media. I remember in particular, an article posted by some financial blog (who I won’t mention) whose 15 minutes of fame was claiming that a big part of Ferguson’s problems was the lack of banking facilities, even though there were several within walking distance of my house (I’m not making this up).

The picture at the top of this post is a prime example, a group of NYC students who found the means to fly into Ferguson for a night, tell us of our shortcomings, then fly home the next day to their privileged communities.

What does all this have to do with tomorrow’s election and my faith in America.

It’s simple, if I take an inventory of the people I know and come in contact with, in Ferguson or now in Imperial Missouri, they may not be in sync with me politically, they may not share my tastes in music or food, they may even like Cheese Whiz, but they want good things for their families, they want safety and security, they want fairness and justice and a better tomorrow. They do not want to riot or loot, and this gives me hope.

Peace, Poppy

One last editorial comment … my biggest disappointment has been with the media, who now doesn’t even pretend to be unbiased (on either side). RIP Walter Cronkite.