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Hello, I'm a newbie here, just joined. I'm a 76 year old lifelong conservative. Never did the democrat in youth and conservative when an adult. Seriously fed up with the evil being propagated in America by the left. I served 8 years in the Army, and I've never been relieved of the oath I swore at enlistment.

Weekend vibes

Saturday.

Today, it means sleeping late, college football, cutting the grass, running errands, going out to dinner, or refusing to do a damn thing.

In much of the 19th-century American West, Saturday was different. If you lived miles outside town, you didn’t make the trip because you forgot milk. You planned for it.

During the school year, Saturday meant the kids were home. Sunday was overwhelmingly treated as the Sabbath, so Saturday was the day for shopping, hauling supplies, running errands, and taking advantage of those extra hands.

But going to town wasn’t just about chores, it was how you found out what the hell had happened all week. There was no television, radio, social media, or telephone in most homes. If you wanted local news, you went where the people were: the café, saloon, general store, post office, blacksmith shop, or anywhere else people gathered.

You learned who had gotten married, who was sick, who had died, whose cattle had wandered off or been hit by rustlers, whose crops were failing, who had been arrested, who killed whom, who had managed to make the marshal kill them, who was hiring, who was going broke, and who was already broke.

And, of course, there was gossip. I’m sure the men insisted they were exchanging important news while the women were gossiping, and I’m equally sure the women knew better.

An ordinary trip into town might involve one person. Saturday could bring the whole family. The kids helped with errands, Mom shopped and visited, and Dad conducted business, heard the news, perhaps disappeared into the saloon, and insisted whatever he was doing in there was absolutely necessary.

After a long week, Saturday meant something we’d recognize today: the weekend had arrived.

The horses are different and the roads are better, but we still want much the same things: get some things done, see some people, hear the news and gossip, eat something good, maybe have a drink, and let tomorrow’s problems wait until tomorrow.

Some things don’t change much.

Happy Saturday, folks.

— Jefferson Bartlett