Ol’ Mister Bill spent the greatest share of the weekend, and all of last week, working for my wife on an estate sale, so I hope you didn’t come here today expecting another 1000-worder like last Friday’s post. Those things don’t write themselves, you know.
Besides, the only thing new we know for sure is that the Chief Executive of the United States of America is another couple of ratchets closer to being frog-walked out of the White House, hopefully in cuffs. (Thank you, James Comey. You are forgiven that little pre-election boner. But, one thing … think about how much easier your life would be right now had you just kept your mouth shut about Anthony Weiners lap top.)
So what I’m going to do is throw a couple of illustrations on the blog just to say I did something, and call it good. However, there is one thing I want to mention. It is specific to the people of Boise—or any other town facing the possibility of having its peace and quiet shredded by some marvelous new military technology being installed right next door—so all you international cats an East Coast hipsters might want to move onto your next Internet stop. Or, you might want to read it, especially if your community is being considered as a base for some airplane that rattles your eyeballs loose whenever it takes off.
I’m addressing this to Mayor Bieter, plus any/and every official—civic, military and otherwise—who will ultimately be in on the decision to allow those F-35s to be planted a mere six miles (give or take) from the center of the most populous city in the state. Tell me, er, Dave … would it be too much to ask that the citizens of Boise—and surrounding communities, I assume—were allowed a dose of what they’re in for before the final decision is made? I’m only talking about a day—maybe even a half a day—of three or four of the planes in question taking off, landing, flying overhead in pairs, whatever they would be doing during normal operations should they be stationed at Gowen Field.
And the entire city should be in on it. They should fly to the south, the east, west and north. Every neighborhood should get a taste of what those closest to the runway will be living with. It’s only fair. Decent towns don’t crap on one neighborhood just to bring a few extra dollars to the business district.
Then, after that day of testing—or half day … whatever—there should be a reasonable period for Boiseans to think it over and let their opinions be known. As it is, it feels like we’re being asked to allow a stranger to come live in our house, and for an indefinite stay, without knowing much about him. Like taking in a foreign exchange student who might turn out to be from some country where cannibalism is an accepted way of getting to know people.
Oh, and let’s not fall back on that tired old bromide about how deafening jet roar is “the sound of Freedom.” It might behoove Boiseans to remember that peace and quiet are just as much the sound of Freedom as a sonic boom.