In a roundabout way, a response to Kelly Scoles’ letter:

Hi Kelly,

American politics are increasingly toxic to me these days. It seems the world has gone mad, with the US the trendsetter in that madness. Alarms signaling the approach of a supremely catastrophic war are abundant, with the West only half awake to the alert. When the despairing British General Cornwallis surrendered to Washington at Yorktown (1781), he ordered his band to play “The World Turned Upside Down.” He couldn’t understand how the British army could lose the battle to a ragtag, upstart colony like the future United States. A new rendition of that song may be appropriate for us now, as the American Republic dissolves itself in the Woke regimen of historically suicidal policies, foreign and domestic. After 140 years of normal, psychologically sound, spiritually healthy, and constitutionally successful history, our national normality has been rejected and transformed into a Progressive, radically Liberal, atheistic political spittoon. Yes, I meant it to be disgusting.

We are in the eye of a devilish political typhoon, still naïve about reality and accepting the most obvious lies; getting through it without life preservers is the challenge, and to Judeo-Christian believers the only “preserver” is our religious faith. Non-believers? They accept oblivion quietly. But we’re shackled together.

I’m off again on a religious polemic mostly because I can. However, in this darkening hour I found some solace in a report of Ukrainian recruits heading to their first fight “praying their rosaries.” That is supernatural faith overcoming natural fear. God bless them all.

But, Kelly, I have no stomach for a discussion of those 877 pages of Heritage Foundation’s “Mandate for Leadership 2025.” On your recommendation I did read a small part of it. Sounds like a wonderful plan! What kind of a plan has the Democratic Party given us? We’re all familiar with its border plan (15 million later). And we know about inflation, and no fracking, and transgenderism, pro Hamas, defund the police, pornography in schools, and the insane Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI) plans. Forget the spittoon, I need a vomitorium.

I also need some relief from depressing subjects, and I’m happy to report my daughter supplied me with such a gift today, through a book in the mail. The title: “Eccentrics, Heroes, and Cutthroats of Old Berkeley” by Richard Schwartz. A fabulous read, not the least because the first chapter is devoted to my great Uncle, Martin Murrey Dunn. I was named after Martin Joseph Dunn, one of his sons.

Beautifully written, I’m proud of this immigrant ancestor’s substantial contribution to our great nation. “He emigrated from Kilkenny, Ireland, [1851, in his mid-twenties] to New York, and two years later set out for California”. This complements the story of my great-grandfather James Leonard’s contributions to Ventura County, before it was a county. I have, however, always questioned why we should be “proud” of things we have had nothing to do with. But I am.

Dunn became many things after purchasing his 160 acres of farmland, including a “leading expert at raising a certain type of horse – the offspring of Percheron workhorses bred with racing stallions. The resulting breed was stocky, intelligent, and long-winded” as fire horses. Many fire departments came to Dunn for their station horses. Schwartz provides fascinating details about the fire department horses. An especially heartwarming story of one horse, Dave, bred by Dunn, working as a fire horse for years, finally retired and was sold as a merchant horse. On his last trip with his new owner, passing the Dunn ranch, Dave, trailing his wagon, broke from his rope tie, recognized Dunn, trotted over and nuzzled him. Dunn bought Dave back from the new owner and Dave spent the rest of his life in quiet repose on the ranch.

Martin Dunn passed away in1904. He was very successful in many areas, including farming, horse breeding, and real estate. His three daughters became teachers and his four sons, doctors and dentists. Uncle Martin was a dentist. After his death, his wife, Matilda Dunn, moved to 380 Bellevue Street in Oakland.

“It seems fitting to imagine Martin Murrey Dunn and Dave the fire horse in an ethereal pasture rubbing faces in celebration of their good lives lived in the peaceful and magical land of southeast Berkeley.” My mother always fondly remembered “Uncle Martin” [Joseph] Dunn.

The Dunn mansion was replaced by a Safeway Market much later. I visited it’s overgrown remnants during leave as a recruit from Fort Ord – now also gone.

Thank you, daughter Kate, for sending this glorious book to me. Thanks Richard Schwartz for writing it so beautifully!