Archive / July, 2014

Talking and Spending Without Relief



By Harry M. Covert

For the first time in a few days I wasn’t awakened in the early morning hours at 2:30, 2:45 and 3 o’clock by missile alerts from the latest iPhone APP. I don’t know what APP stands for but it works, at least until the battery runs out of juice. I figured that finally the bombings from Gaza to Israel had stopped and all was well in that part of the world. I was certainly wrong this time. The phone was simply dead and the adapter cord wouldn’t recharge. Once the computer technicians discovered cracker crumbs had somehow plugged up the connection and the charge increased, the alerts resumed much to my chagrin.… Read More

Closing the Welcome Mat?

‘South of the Border Down Mexico Way’

By Harry M. Covert

         Can there be any doubt the matter of illegal aliens, now described as undocumented people, continues to exacerbate and befuddle governments all over the place?

            The awful situation “south of the border down Mexico way” is gaining by leaps and bounds. The men and women policing and patrolling the borders have the toughest and thankless jobs; there’s no relief in sight.

            It’s not going to get better. Whether healthy or not, the influx effects everybody and no one should be surprised to find various locales feeding and housing the “runaways.”

Read More

Just another Day in Jail

Benghazi Tragedy Now U.S. Territory

Ahmed Abu Khatallah’s New Home

By Harry M. Covert

A L E X A N D R I A, Va.

Once again, the William G. Truesdale Detention Center in Alexandria provides the best housing and security for another alleged international terrorist. The word alleged must be used here in fairness before a federal court criminal trial steals all the headlines.

From the moment Ahmed Abu Khatallah was grabbed, I mean captured, by military commandos in Libya on the night of June 15-16, there was little or no doubt the 43-year-old would find a new home on Mill Road, Alexandria.

Read More

Miss Martin and Lou Gehrig

Doppleganger, The Iliad. The Iron Man

Eeling in East Harlem

By Harry M. Covert

N E W P O R T  N E W S, V a.

Usually on Thursdays in the spring, Miss Martin read Homer’s Iliad to her sixth graders at John W. Daniel School. The windows were raised and we little tykes hoped a breeze would flow through the room. We didn’t have air conditioning in 1950.

Miss Martin favored white tee-shirts all the time and looked exactly like Benjamin Franklin. No kidding. When I look at a $100 bill today, I see her staring right at me.… Read More