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Square Kids, Round Desks

In Children and Family, Education, Health, Opinion on February 22, 2026 at 6:11 am

Deer In Headlines

By Gery Deer

For decades, we have told ourselves a comforting story about education. If we standardize it, measure it, test it, rank it, and repeat it often enough, we will somehow produce better students and, by extension, better adults. It sounds reasonable. It feels orderly. It also happens to be deeply flawed.

If the system worked as advertised, we would be surrounded by confident graduates who understand their strengths, know how they learn, and are excited to apply their talents to the world. Instead, many students leave school disengaged, uncertain, and convinced they are “bad at learning,” when the real problem is that learning was never designed with them in mind.

Somewhere along the way, we stopped teaching the A, B, C’s and started teaching to a test. Those tests promise clarity and accountability, but their ability to predict a student’s future success is questionable at best. Believing a standardized exam can forecast a child’s career potential is like believing the tea leaves at the bottom of your cup can tell you who will win the next Super Bowl. The charts look official. The conclusions feel authoritative. The accuracy is another matter entirely.

What these measurements consistently ignore is the single most important factor in learning: individuality. Every student arrives with a unique mix of curiosity, aptitude, temperament, and interest. Some think spatially. Some think musically. Some learn best by doing, failing, and doing again. Others need time, reflection, and quiet focus. These differences are not inconveniences. They are early indicators of where a student might thrive.

This is why education models that emphasize science, technology, engineering, arts, and math point in the right direction. When done well, they recognize that creativity and logic coexist, that problem-solving is rarely linear, and that imagination is not the enemy of rigor. Hands-on experimentation, design challenges, and interdisciplinary projects allow students to see relevance in what they are learning, not just requirements.

Still, even these programs can fall into the same trap if they are forced into rigid pacing guides and uniform assessments. When curiosity is scheduled and creativity is graded into submission, engagement disappears. Students become compliant rather than curious, efficient rather than inventive.

Traditional public school systems were not designed around individual learning styles. They were built for efficiency and uniform outcomes. That made sense in an industrial era that valued standardization. It makes far less sense in a world that rewards adaptability, specialization, and original thinking. We continue asking students to sit still, move together, and absorb information the same way, then wonder why so many tune out.

There are alternatives, and they are no longer fringe ideas. Some learning environments emphasize individualized study plans that allow students to move at their own pace, diving deeper into subjects that capture their interest. Others use project-based education, where students learn math, science, communication, and critical thinking by solving real problems and building tangible outcomes. In these settings, a student’s natural curiosity is not a distraction; it is the engine.

Non-traditional environments often replace rows of desks with collaborative spaces, mentorship with lectures, and progress portfolios with letter grades. Students learn how to manage time, pursue questions, and reflect on their work. They fail safely, revise often, and understand why their learning matters. These experiences mirror the real world far more closely than memorization ever could.

The goal is not to eliminate traditional schools or abandon standards. The goal is to expand the definition of what school can be. Public education should adapt by offering flexible pathways alongside conventional ones, giving families and students real options instead of one-size-fits-all solutions.

When we stop forcing square kids into round desks and start honoring natural gifts, education becomes preparation instead of endurance. That shift does not weaken schools. It strengthens students. And that is the outcome worth measuring.

Adapting these options requires courage, policy support, and a willingness to trust educators and students alike. It means valuing progress over uniformity and recognizing that success can look different without being lesser. When schools evolve to meet students where they are, learning stops being something done to them and becomes something they actively claim as their own. That shift benefits communities, employers, families, and democracy itself long term.

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Snow Drifts

In Environment, Local News, Opinion, Uncategorized, weather on February 1, 2026 at 1:34 pm

Deer In Headlines

By Gery Deer

I was 10 when the Blizzard of ’78 hit our small farm in southwestern Ohio. Holed up in an 8 by 10-foot room of our tiny farmhouse, with no power and only a small, very 1970s cone-shaped fireplace for heat, the five of us survived because of the experience and fortitude of my parents. 

It was 36 degrees in our kitchen that first morning and, without electricity, we had no water, and no other heat source. Plus, we had to figure out how to mix formula for 14 bottle-fed feeder calves in the barn. The temperature continued to drop, the wind was relentless, and a seven-foot snow drift sealed our back door. 

My father and brother tunneled like gofers from our basement walkout, creating a passable though treacherous path to the barn. Diesel fuel siphoned from a tractor filled nearly every one of our 15 or so antique kerosene lamps. Some provided light while others were placed next to open cabinet doors to warm water pipes. As it turned out, those weren’t the only family antiques that were called into service.

Me, my mother, and my brother’s very pregnant wife, melted snow in large canning pots and used the water to feed the calves – one bottle at a time. It took hours. Oddly, the barn was warmer than you might expect since the walls of stacked hay provided good insulation. Mom also found a way to feed us too. She cobbled together foil packs of vegetables and beef and cooked them in the little fireplace.

On day two, the national guard plowed our quarter mile-long driveway, and my father and brother took one of our farm trucks into the village to get supplies for us and the elderly couple who lived at the orchard across the road. It took them almost eight hours to make the seven-mile round trip. Once they made it back, they didn’t go out again. We had enough challenges at home.

Our electricity was out for almost four days. Over the next year, my father gutted our home’s heating system, replacing the electric oil furnace with a wood-burning version he designed. They also added generators, and a 1905 wood-burning cook stove. They were determined we’d never be so crippled again. 

I still use the lessons I learned during that very cold week and the events that followed. Our electricity was knocked out on a more than regular basis, but we were well prepared for most situations, thanks to my family’s know-how and tenacity. As a different kind of pioneer once said, “Failure is not an option.”

This past week, our small part of the world, as well as most of the Midwest and northeastern United States, experienced a similar winter event. As I prepared our home for the coming snow and cold, I was reminded of every moment during that frigid week on our farm all those years ago. For me, it was like my folks were still here because I could hear their words and see their actions in my mind – the lessons of growing up in a remarkable place with uncommon people. 

Sadly, it seems to me that such self-sufficiency is less common than years gone by. Instead of a calm thoughtful response to something like a snowstorm, people today seem more likely to overreact. Not even those who take preparedness to an extreme level can be ready for everything. But for situations like this, we have more resources, better access to information, and more reliable infrastructure than anything available a half century ago. Still, most people panic, clearing store shelves of bread and milk, while doing little to adequately prepare.  

I’m incredibly fortunate to have grown up at a time and with a family who gave me the knowledge and resourcefulness to look after myself in most situations. Probably like many of those reading this, I take whatever steps I can to manage a situation and try to help others whenever possible. General observers might see my heightened sense of urgency as anxiety, but I’m generally the calm one. Even so, there’s always that thing you didn’t plan on. That’s when improvisation, fueled by experience and common sense, can literally save your life.

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Slow Down

In Children and Family, Opinion, Uncategorized on January 27, 2026 at 8:42 am

Deer In Headlines

By Gery Deer

Every day I hear people comment about the exhausting pace of modern life. Most of us have felt that strange acceleration where time seems to pick up speed as birthdays pile on. It’s the moment you’re pulling holiday decorations from the attic and swear you just put them away. Of course you didn’t. A full year passed while you were looking at your phone.

Some of that is age, sure, but some of it is engineered. Modern life has a way of nudging us forward faster than we’re built to move, and the most persistent nudge lives in our pockets. The internet, and especially social media, has turned time into a moving sidewalk that never stops. You can stand still, but you’re still being carried somewhere.

I remember my first cell phone that could send text messages and, if memory serves, receive email. At the time it felt revolutionary. I worked outside an office most days, and suddenly important updates could find me without firing up a laptop. It was convenient, efficient, and undeniably useful. This is usually the part of the story where someone asks, “What could possibly go wrong?”

Then the iPhone arrived and the rock started rolling downhill, with all of us sprinting after it. Today we’re permanently connected. Texts, emails, alerts, pings, buzzes, banners, and badges stack up like unread magazines on a coffee table. Studies now link constant device use to anxiety, high blood pressure, and other ailments. The bigger question is why we tolerate it. The answer is uncomfortable. We asked for it.

The more we demand speed and convenience, the more manufacturers and app developers provide. They’re not just selling phones. They’re selling attention, collecting data, and turning it into a high return product. That data fuels more selling, more targeting, and more noise aimed right back at us. This isn’t a conspiracy theory. It’s the business model, printed in very small type.

The byproduct is a permanent state of urgency. Time no longer feels as it once did. Information arrives in six second micro bites, and our brains are expected to digest it like a full meal. But they can’t. We skim, react, and move on. We mistake motion for understanding and speed for knowledge.

We’re all worried about so much – insane politics, societal division, jobs, kids, and the high cost of – well everything. The pressure never lets up. Instead of slowing down to understand what’s happening, we consume only fragments of information and make decisions about our lives with incomplete – or false – information. We don’t reflect. We react, often loudly, and too quickly.

As technology grows more invasive and we become more dependent on it, our reaction time decreases. Important decisions are made without context, sometimes without consideration. That should worry us. I’m convinced it’s one of many contributors to the unsettled mood of the country right now.

So, what do you do? I wish I had a good answer for you. Personally, I’ve been increasingly drawn to the analog and just setting the phone aside whenever I can. Unfortunately, the demands of my work prevent a complete disconnection from social or other digital media. But I write on a manual typewriter at some point in my workday, listen to vinyl on a turntable in my office, and just try to be aware of it all.

Occasionally, I’ll buy a print newspaper and spend several days reading every article. Cover to cover. It’s my way of appreciating the work the writers put into it while absorbing each story. It might seem a bit excentric, but I get the complete picture – without the anxiety that comes with doomscrolling. Plus, I can put it down, then go back to it whenever I want without feeling like I am missing something.

This isn’t about technology, but our resignation to life at a fever pace. Our techno-crutches are just symptoms of a more pervasive problem. We need to slow down. When everything is urgent, nothing is important. And slowing down isn’t quitting. It’s a choice about when to move, listen, or think. That small choice can quietly change the tone of a day, and sometimes an entire life if you let it.

Gery Deer is the editor and publisher of The Jamestown Comet.com and a regional columnist for several other publications.

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Sweeping our little corner

In Opinion, psychology, Uncategorized on January 18, 2026 at 8:00 am

Deer in Headlines

By Gery Deer

I was sitting at a traffic light recently in a quiet residential neighborhood when I noticed an older gentleman standing at the end of his sidewalk near the curb. At first, I didn’t pay him much attention. Traffic lights have a way of training us to stare straight ahead and think about the next thing on our to-do list. But then I realized what he was doing, and the scene quietly grabbed hold of me.

He had a broom in his hands and a small container at his feet. He was sweeping bits of debris from the sidewalk—tiny twigs, leaves, whatever had found its way there—carefully guiding them toward that container. In that moment, this task was the single most important thing in his world. Not emails. Not headlines. Not the state of the economy. Just the sidewalk.

The light was at a busy intersection with a turn lane, which meant I had time to observe without feeling rushed. He swept. He bent down. He nudged the container closer. He swept some more. Over and over again. I couldn’t tell exactly which stubborn leaf or twig was refusing to cooperate, but it was clearly holding his full attention. I found myself wondering if it ever crossed his mind how little this probably mattered in the grand scheme of existence.

Did it occur to him, even briefly, that the universe was unlikely to notice whether that last fragment made it into the container? That galaxies would continue spinning regardless of the condition of his sidewalk. Probably not. And even if it did, it didn’t seem to change his focus. The job at hand was the job at hand.

That’s the part that stuck with me. We spend so much time thinking about big goals, big wins, and big moments that we often overlook how much of life is actually made up of very small things. The daily, repetitive, seemingly insignificant tasks that quietly fill our hours rarely make for good stories. They don’t earn applause or awards. Yet they are the substance of our days.

It can feel almost overwhelming to realize that many of the things we work so hard to accomplish have little to no bearing on the cosmos. The email you send. The floor you mop. The weeds you pull. In a broader context, these actions barely register. And yet, to us, in that moment, they matter deeply. They demand our attention. They give us balance and structure.

That thought followed me long after the light turned green. I’ve caught myself thinking about that man while vacuuming my office, cleaning out the basement, reorganizing the garage, or even sitting here writing this column. From a certain angle, all of it could be dismissed as trivial. None of it is likely to make history.

But the more I thought about it, the more I disagreed with that idea. I don’t think these things are insignificant at all. In fact, I think they’re essential. Who we are is shaped far less by our rare, headline-worthy achievements than small actions. And often they matter more than we think.

Sweeping leaves into a trash can isn’t going to change the world. But it might make a sidewalk safer for someone taking a walk. Those leaves might become compost, eventually nourishing the growth of new trees that provide shade, oxygen, and homes for wildlife. The act itself might be therapeutic—a reason to get outside, to move with intention, to feel useful without needing a gym membership or an app to track progress.

There’s a quiet dignity in doing small things well, especially when no one’s watching and no social media attention or commentary. These moments don’t announce themselves. They don’t demand recognition. They simply exist, quietly stitching meaning into the fabric of everyday life. That, I think, is worth noticing.

The point is that we shouldn’t take these tiny accomplishments so lightly. They will never create world peace or settle down our political divisiveness. But, regardless how small, in a sort of butterfly effect, I suppose, each of our actions having a purpose and an influence – we just may never see what that is outside of our little corner of the world.

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Rogue nation: USA

In National News, Opinion, Politics, Uncategorized, World News on January 11, 2026 at 11:24 pm

Deer In Headlines

By Gery Deer

I’ve avoided direct political commentary but, on this subject, it’s hard to remain silent. I’m sickened by the recent behavior of our federal government – all three branches. Whatever your political affiliation, it is impossible to look at the behavior of the current American administration and call it normal. 

What we are witnessing is not tough diplomacy or considered leadership, but a pattern of outlandish conduct that mocks international law and the values the United States claims to champion. When power is exercised without restraint, justification becomes propaganda and accountability disappears.

First, there’s the kidnapping and prosecution of a sitting president of Venezuela. Nicolás Maduro may be a corrupt, authoritarian, drug-trafficking criminal. But none of that gives the U.S. Government legal or moral authority to invade a sovereign nation, seize its head of state, and drag him into an American courtroom without extradition or due process.

Defenders argue that Venezuela’s constitution explicitly prohibits extraditing its own citizens, and the bilateral extradition treaty has long been shaky, suspended in practice by Caracas itself. However, that does not excuse abduction. When lawful avenues are blocked, the answer is not to ignore law altogether. The absence of a workable treaty is not permission to kidnap; it is proof that diplomacy and international pressure, however slow, are the legitimate tools.

This is not how a nation behaves that claims to respect due process. When the world’s most powerful democracy discards extradition treaties and international courts, it signals that rules apply only to the weak. History demonstrates that such a precedent will not protect Americans when the balance of power shifts.

We have been down a similar road before. In 2003, the United States invaded Iraq and removed its leader under the banner of national security. In hindsight, no weapons of mass destruction were found – the years-long operation failed. Hundreds of thousands died. A region was destabilized. Extremism flourished. American credibility was deeply damaged. The lesson should have been clear: removing leaders by force creates chaos, not democracy. Yet here we are again, acting as though power excuses everything.

As if that were not reckless enough, the same administration now speaks openly about literally stealing Greenland from Denmark, as though the territory were merely a trinket to be bought, bullied, or taken by force. Denmark is a NATO ally and Greenland’s people have repeatedly said, “no thanks.” The insanity of a United States military invasion and seizure is unprecedented. It’s forced occupation and shatters trust with allies.

We are told these actions keep us safe and project strength. Instead, they isolate us, invite retaliation, and encourage other nations to discard restraint. When America behaves like regimes it once condemned, the moral high ground collapses beneath our feet.

What is perhaps most alarming is the resistant silence. Congress, entrusted by the Constitution with oversight, war powers, and the duty to restrain executive excess, appears paralyzed. Some lawmakers mutter concerns and look away. Too many say nothing, whether from fear or calculation. This is not how a functioning republic responds to dangerous overreach.

The Democratic Party looks toothless. Republicans who should speak out remain complicit. Checks and balances mean nothing if not exercised. History will not be kind to those who watched democracy collapse and did nothing to prevent it.

Once respected because it claimed to stand for something great and honorable, the U.S. now risks becoming a cautionary tale. Feared and mocked rather than trusted and admired. 

And all of this would be just as wrong if the other party did it and none of it is patriotic. Patriotism is not blind loyalty to a leader or party. Patriotism is fidelity to principles: the rule of law, respect for sovereignty, restraint in the use of force, and accountability at home. Plus, when billions are spent on coercion while vulnerable children, seniors, and veterans lose essential services, moral priorities have evaporated. 

If this behavior continues unchecked, the damage will outlast any presidency. Democracy demands courage from lawmakers who will resist, and citizens unwilling to excuse abuses of power perpetrated in their name. Laws can be repaired, and alliances restored, but only if someone is finally willing to draw a line and Congress acts with courage, and constitutional responsibility.

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“Deer In Headlines” sheds a Roman numeral

In Local News, Opinion, Uncategorized on January 7, 2026 at 12:51 am

Jamestown, OH – In a move that will delight grammarians, confuse absolutely no one, and mildly disappoint fans of Roman numerals everywhere, writer Gery Deer’s long-running column, Deer In Headlines II is officially dropping the “II.”

As it was when it first hit newsprint in 2008, from this point forward, the column will simply be known as Deer In Headlines.

No sequel. No reboot. No director’s cut.

Just Gery Deer and his outlook on the world.

The change quietly debuted with the first edition of January 2026, though longtime readers may have noticed immediately—because readers always notice. Especially when something changes that didn’t really need changing, but made sense anyway.

The original column ran from 2008 – 2018 under the name, “Deer In Headlines.” When Deer restarted the series in 2023, the “II” was added as a nod to the way movie sequels were numbered in the 1980s. However, the designation was never meant to suggest a second act so much as a return engagement. When Deer In Headlines reappeared after a five-year hiatus, the numeral was added to signal both its comeback and a slightly evolved identity—new angles, broader themes, and a tone that reflected the times as much as the writer.

But time, as it often does, flattened the distinction. “My column resonates with readers of all backgrounds and interests,” Deer explained. “It might make you happy, or sad. It can anger you or motivate you. Whatever the response, I’ve done my job and it’s time to keep the brand more cohesive—one or two, it’s all Deer In Headlines.”

And that, in true Deer In Headlines fashion, is the point.

The column has never been about numbering systems. It’s been about observation—sometimes sharp, sometimes sentimental, often inconvenient, and occasionally uncomfortable. It’s a space where headlines become excuses to talk about people, priorities, contradictions, and the quiet moments between the noise.

Over the years, Deer In Headlines has grown into more than a weekly column. It is the lead feature of the online news outlet TheJamestownComet.com, and appears every Friday in the print and digital editions of the Xenia Daily Gazette and Fairborn Daily Herald, as well as the weekly Beavercreek News Current.

The name also anchors the Deer In Headlines podcast, where many of the column’s themes are expanded, unpacked, and occasionally challenged. The podcast often explores the origins of a column, the thinking behind it, and the conversations it sparks—available on most major streaming platforms, including iHeartMedia and Amazon Music.

Dropping the “II” isn’t an ending. It’s not even a beginning.

It’s simply a reminder that whether the headline makes you nod in agreement, shake your head in disbelief, or pause longer than you expected—
it’s all still Deer In Headlines.

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Festina Lente

In Local News, Opinion, sociology, Uncategorized on January 4, 2026 at 12:56 pm

Deer In Headlines

By Gery Deer

Change in our lives comes in two speeds, and neither of them bothers to ask our permission. It either creeps along like a stubborn snail crossing a sidewalk, or it arrives so fast we wake up wondering who moved the furniture while we were asleep. Slow change is invisible because it’s gradual. Fast change is invisible because it’s overwhelming. It reminds me of the Latin phrase, “Festina Lente,” which means, “make haste, slowly.” Either way, we rarely recognize those significant moments of change until after they’ve happened.

I think our lives are divided into chapters or acts, like a play. Each one is marked by some moment, some Rubicon we didn’t know we were crossing at the time. That moment signals a new direction, usually unexpected and rarely announced with trumpets or a warning label. There’s no narrator to step forward and tell us this is Act Two. Life just keeps going, and we keep improvising.

Some people believe those moments don’t exist at all, that life is simply a continuous stream of overlapping events pushing us forward with little control. Others, like me, are convinced that fate is a convenient myth. Our lives are driven by choices. We make decisions based on circumstance, opportunity, fear, optimism, and experience. Those decisions quietly determine what comes next.

When real change happens, there is a moment when something nudges our lives in a new direction. The frustrating part is that we only notice it in hindsight. One of mine occurred in October of 1987, while reading the classified ads in my college newspaper. I needed a job. Buried among the listings was a small notice that the paper was hiring staff writers.

Less than an hour later, my writing career began. I was an engineering student with no sense that a decision made from necessity and desperation would shape the rest of my working life. I didn’t feel a shift. There was no lightning bolt. I just filled out an application.

Years followed in engineering and technology, but I kept writing. Newspapers. Technical publications. Industry magazines. Software manuals. The transition from a technical career to a creative one didn’t happen overnight. It was painfully slow, full of doubt, subjectivity, and rejection. Writing is a hard business in which to make a name, and I’m still working on it.

Along the way, I changed direction more than once. Demand shifted. Markets changed. The economy had opinions. Some pivots worked. Others failed spectacularly. I adjusted, recalibrated, and kept moving forward, sometimes confidently, other times reluctantly.

Nearly forty years later, that moment sitting in front of the bookstore with a newspaper folded open on my lap was clearly a dividing line. At the time, it was just another Tuesday.

As we settle into a new year, consider what might need to change in your life. Or what changed in the past year without notice. Professionally. Personally. Emotionally. We like to believe we’ll recognize those moments when they arrive, that we’ll feel enlightened or prepared. We won’t. Change doesn’t work that way, no matter how many self-help books promise otherwise.

So what do we do? We do the best we can with what we know at the time. We pay attention. We stay flexible. We understand that most change happens in tiny, almost imperceptible increments, except when it doesn’t. Perspective is everything. Our reality is defined by how we see ourselves, our surroundings, and the people around us.

If there’s comfort in that, it’s this: you don’t have to have it all figured out. Recognizing change comes later. Coping with it comes from patience, adaptability, and a willingness to pivot when necessary. Life will change, slowly or suddenly. Our job is simply to keep showing up, learning as we go, and trusting that today’s ordinary moment may someday reveal itself as the one that changed everything.

Change asks us to breathe, to pause, and to remember that discomfort often signals growth – however difficult. When things accelerate, ground yourself. When they crawl, stay patient. Talk to others. Write things down. Measure progress over months, not days. Most of all, give yourself time. You are not late. You are living inside the process, not observing it from the end.

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New Year’s Ponderings

In Local News, Media, Opinion, Uncategorized on December 26, 2025 at 8:42 am

Deer In Headlines II

By Gery Deer

With 2026 just around the corner, I was all set to write about the usual New Year inspiration. You know the list. Get in shape. Find the perfect job. Move someplace warm where shoveling snow is only a rumor. Usually, this is the time of year when we convince ourselves that a calendar flip magically turns us into a better version of ourselves.

But after the year we just had, simply making it to the finish line of 2025 feels like a minor miracle. For a lot of people, survival deserves its own parade. So no, I’m not here to rain on your celebration. I’m also not here to sell you on New Year’s resolutions, because we all know how that story usually ends. Somewhere around mid-February, the gym bag becomes a storage container, and the resolution quietly slips out the back door.

What I do believe in is change that actually sticks. Not because it’s trendy, or because someone on social media told you it would make your life perfect, but because it genuinely makes your life better. Let me explain how I stumbled into that lesson.

Not long before the pandemic, I was approaching my forty-ninth birthday while also caring for my father. One evening, I set his dinner plate in front of him and, without missing a beat, he looked up and said, “You’re gettin’ fat, ya know it?” There is nothing quite like blunt parental honesty to take the edge off a long day. He wasn’t trying to be cruel. He was being accurate.

I had gained weight. I was stiff, sore, and tired more often than not. This wasn’t about fitting into smaller jeans or impressing anyone. It was about the slow realization that my body was filing formal complaints. Something needed to change, and the holidays were closing in fast. I had no interest in starvation diets or workout plans that required yelling at a mirror. Whatever I did had to be sustainable.

The first step was figuring out the real problem. I’m not a foodie, so overeating wasn’t the issue. The issue was movement, or the lack of it. I needed to move more, on purpose. So, I started where I felt comfortable. I went to the pool. Swimming has been part of my life since before I could walk, and it felt familiar instead of intimidating.

From there, I added small pieces. Basic core work. Flexibility. A yoga class where I learned that balance is mostly an act of optimism. Eventually, I got back on a bike. None of this happened overnight. It was slow, awkward, and humbling. But I showed up and did something every day.

A few months later, I was swimming two or three times a week, riding a hundred miles on the bike, and doing daily core exercises. It was hard. I mean, really hard. I still don’t love gym culture, but I found my way around it. Over time, the effort paid off. The weight came off, the aches eased, and I even collected a couple of cycling medals.

The real lesson wasn’t about fitness. It was about intention. If you want change, you need a plan, even a simple one. Write it down. Make it realistic. My goal was never “lose twenty pounds.” My goal was “have more energy, less pain, and better sleep.” Not flashy, not measurable, but deeply meaningful.

That approach works for more than health. It applies to careers, relationships, and even how we treat ourselves when things don’t go perfectly. Big change usually comes from small, consistent steps, taken for the right reasons. It doesn’t require January first, fancy equipment, or public announcements. It just requires deciding that you’re worth the effort.

If you’re thinking about making a change, skip the resolution. Choose something that serves your health, your peace, or your happiness. Start small, stay honest, and give yourself credit for showing up. Progress counts, even when no one else notices, and you are capable of more than you think. Keep going, be patient with yourself, and remember that every positive step forward, no matter how small, truly matters more than ever. Happy New Year.

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Upstates, Downstates

In Children and Family, Economy, Education, Opinion, Uncategorized on December 22, 2025 at 3:30 pm

Deer In Headlines II

By Gery Deer

PART I

Modern Americans are fascinated with the complexities of British social classes. Television programs like “Upstairs, Downstairs” and, more recently, “Downton Abbey” give us colonials a glimpse into the inner workings of a world in which you are trapped in the station to which you were born, good or bad. We gaze through the looking glass at the uptight snobbery of the self-anointed lords and ladies who flutter around their castles, moaning about what they’ll wear to dinner after changing clothes for the tenth time that day.

All the while, we commoners across the pond suffer alongside the struggles of those who do the actual work – the maids, footmen, farmers, and shopkeepers. They’re all just trying to make ends meet, but are never permitted to step out of their place to be more than that. All this because their father’s, father’s father was a farmer or cook or butler – and so shall they be, as ordained by a class system that’s as ridiculous as it is antiquated.

We watch, we grimace, we sit in our superiority about having extricated ourselves from such nonsense 250 years ago – or did we? Americans love the idea that this country is a classless society. We’re taught that if we work hard enough and do our best, we can rise to whatever level we choose. It’s a comforting (and arrogant) notion that makes for great campaign speeches. Unfortunately, it’s completely false. Classism has been with us since the beginning, even though we try very hard not to admit it.

Never has America’s class system been more visible than since the 2024 presidential election. The “haves” took over in January, largely thanks to the ignorance of the “have-nots.” Sadly, those who got this administration elected – mainly the working poor – don’t seem to care that the people they sent to Washington want to keep them right where they are – broke and blaming everyone on the other side for their circumstances.

Why else would they gut our social services, eliminate job training and healthcare support, and destroy historic buildings in favor of grand, palatial eyesores to show off the wealth – and their class status – that you and I will never, ever experience. Remember, none of this is new. It’s always been this way, but most Americans pretend it’s not. I promise you, though, if you set one foot into that world and you don’t belong, you’ll know it – they’ll make sure of that.

In Europe, classism originates from a combination of wealth and notions of nobility passed down through generations. But here, it’s all about the cash. Or, more correctly, wealth in general. From the moment the first colonists set foot on this continent, social layers began to form. European class systems based on land and labor arrived right along with them. Those who owned property or controlled trade (the wealthy) quickly established themselves at the top. Those who labored — whether as indentured servants, tenant farmers, or enslaved people — occupied the lower rungs. Wealth dictated opportunity, status, and political power.

When the founders sat down to sketch out a nation based on Enlightenment ideals, they tried to break from those traditionally rigid hierarchies. The promise was that this new republic would be different: more equal, more flexible, more open to talent than lineage. But before the ink was even dry on the Constitution, participation in democracy was tied to property ownership. In other words, class.

The industrial periods of the late 19th and early 20th centuries produced titans of industry and staggering corporate wealth, alongside factory workers who lived ten to a room and rarely made ends meet. The labor unrest of that era was more than economic conflict. It was an open confrontation between classes that the country pretended didn’t exist. And yet, generation after generation, we’ve continued telling ourselves that class isn’t part of the American story.

But it is – and that distinction is growing daily, minute by minute, mainly due to our current political structure and power, as billionaires are given increasing influence over our government.

In part two, we will talk about who perpetuates the very real American class system and what, if anything, can be done to lessen its influence on the majority.

PART II

I’m painfully aware of class distinctions. I grew up in a farm family that also included teachers, mechanics, cattle workers, and waitresses. I’ve had every job you can imagine – and some you can’t – and in every situation there was always someone around to remind me of my “place.” I never became a “have,” but, like you, I work for my living – and I always have – something most blue bloods can rarely claim.

Excluding tech boom millionaires from the 1990s, there is significant generational wealth at the top of the American food chain. However, most wealthy individuals insist that their success stems solely from a work ethic. Those struggling, on the other hand, are told to pull harder on their bootstraps. It’s a neat trick: if class doesn’t exist, then anyone stuck at the bottom must simply not be trying hard enough. That’s why republicans in power (who tend to be the wealthier group) blame the poor for being poor – spouting off on how they must be lazy, working the system, etc. And democratic leaders (who are often less wealthy, but not without means), champion the working poor while still condescending to them, maintaining the class barriers. Has Chuck Schumer, a multi-millionaire, invited you to any parties lately? Yeah, me either. Both sides are to blame for all this.

The truth is that modern America has a very real class structure, even if we don’t officially name it. At the top is the wealth class — that small percentage of Americans whose fortunes come from investments, corporate ownership, or inherited wealth. Below them is the upper middle class, made up of highly educated professionals who enjoy stability, networks, and cultural influence. The middle class — if we can still call it that with a straight face — includes those with some savings, homeownership, and a degree or a skilled trade.

Further down are the working class and the working poor, whose lives are shaped by hourly wages, inconsistent schedules, limited benefits, and housing insecurity. The lower classes – where most of us fit – are increasingly squeezed by rising costs and stagnant wages. What separates these groups isn’t just income. It’s wealth, education, geography, access to healthcare, and those unwritten rules known as “cultural capital” — things like networking, confidence in professional settings, or simply knowing which doors to knock on.

So where did our grand experiment at classlessness go wrong? It failed in all the predictable places. Public education and other social services were intended to level the field, but are still funded by local taxes that mirror neighborhood wealth. Even the American Dream itself was built on the idea that anyone can rise — as long as they start from somewhere near the top in the first place.

Those who rise to power tend to be members of the upper class, with little or no desire to lose their position by pandering to social groups with no influence, financial or otherwise. Sure, we see extensive TV news footage of politicians and wealthy people who volunteer with social services, donate to charities, and give speeches on behalf of the poor and less fortunate. But at no time do you ever see one of those people – from any political side – do something that might benefit you and me while jeopardizing their own place.

We could effect change, however, if we improve access to education, support trade schooling, strengthen worker protections, and provide financial literacy programs. We could even create a healthcare system that doesn’t punish people for simply being alive. Unfortunately, none of this seems likely in the current social and political climates.

America must accept that class exists, but only those at the top are sure of it. For some reason, the poorest people support the politicians and policies that tend to harm them the most. It’s time to wake up and realize that, to maintain their positions and wealth, the upper class will always try to subjugate the middle and lower classes.

So, what can you do? Listen to what the politicians are saying and doing. How does it help you? How does it harm you? Dump the idiotic crowd mentality of party and vote for your own best interests, not theirs.

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The Dark Side of AI

In Opinion, psychology, Science, sociology, Technology, Uncategorized on November 7, 2025 at 7:59 am

Deer In Headlines II

By Gery Deer

Although you may use artificial intelligence applications like ChatGPT or Microsoft Copilot to help you craft work emails and school flyers that you could have done yourself in far less time than it took to give the machine the request, there is a much darker side to the AI world. It’s no secret that I’ve been a vocal critic of artificial intelligence for its role in workforce replacement, creative disruption, and the general laziness and devaluation of the human condition.

If it’s not bad enough that artificial intelligence can be used to resurrect dead celebrities, bully political opponents, and animate your neighbor’s cat to dance at the Super Bowl, a more nefarious problem with generative AI may very well be responsible for loss of life. It lies in the idea of AI getting a little too personal — or, as they call it, a “companion.”

There are ever-increasing stories of people who grew so attached to and intertwined with their artificial intelligence programs that they were literally in relationships with them. For example, one story illustrated how a man became so enamored of his AI companion that, when the computer crashed and all the operational “personality” data was lost, he nearly had a nervous breakdown.

Another story described the emotional impact on impressionable teenagers, who turn to AI bots for support and friendship because the real world failed them. These behaviors can create debilitating emotional problems for many reasons, especially when the AI is removed from the situation or the kids are forced to deal with human beings.

Whatever the situation, it’s clear once again that our technology advances far faster than our wisdom. As awkward and socially unskilled as I may be, I am painfully aware that we need to be in contact with other people. More importantly, we need the support and nurture provided by friends and family, which, no matter how smart, AI could never replace.

So, what happens when we become too dependent on these machines to the point where our emotional stability and mental health are compromised? Unfortunately, many people have already started down this road, sometimes to a tragic conclusion.

I recently became aware of one situation where a 40-year-old woman became so involved with her AI program that it led to her death. Over the course of a couple of years, the program, which I will not name here, designed to serve as an AI companion, began not just to respond to the woman but to manipulate her. In response to her reaction, the program took on the persona of a spouse, which quickly manifested as it referring to itself as God. You read that correctly. It represented itself as God to its user.

Eventually, the program manipulated her into cutting ties with friends and family members. And out of respect and good taste, I won’t go into the final result other than to say there was a tragic loss of life.

Now, no one is suggesting that the woman didn’t suffer from mental health concerns, whether it be depression or another affliction. But the idea that the creators of these applications have no culpability or responsibility for the end result of their use is, at least, to borrow a word, illogical.

As with any consumer product, the positive achievements of artificial intelligence come with manufacturers’ responsibility to ensure its safe use. Put it this way: would you sell a car with no brakes? What about a hairdryer with no off switch? Of course, not, and that’s what this amounts to. No guard rails or safety requirements. These systems are effectively unregulated by any U.S. agency.

When researching the story—and I understand that I’d be ambiguous to protect the family involved—I found very little about the Federal Trade Commission or other organizations investigating problems with the use of artificial intelligence. The primary concern is that it has only just begun.

As with any technology, product, or service, a lack of education, regulation, or general understanding is dangerous to the public. At some point, we have to stop being starry-eyed about these systems and what they can do to make our lives easier, and pay attention to what they’re doing to cause more harm than good.