The last inmates left in January 2012, and now the 150-year-old Nevada State Prison is officially removed from operation. The decommissioning ceremony was held on the prison grounds in Carson City and was the first time the public had the opportunity to walk the grounds and see the cell blocks that at one time housed up to 800 inmates.

There’s little argument about the place the old prison holds in Nevada history and in the crowd were many who had strong connections with the place.  Denver Dickerson’s grandfather served twice as its warden, dying in 1925 on the grounds in what was the warden’s residence.

“I just felt since it played such an important part in our family’s history, I should be here,” Dickerson told KOLO-TV News.

The prison was established in 1862 by the Nevada Territorial Legislature at the site of the Warm Springs Hotel, located east of Carson City in Nevada Territory. The legislature had been leasing the hotel from Abraham Curry and using the prison quarry to provide stone material for the Nevada State Capitol.

The territorial legislature acquired the hotel along with 20 acres of land from Curry, in 1864, who was appointed the first warden of the prison. In October of that year, Nevada became a state and the newly written constitution established that the Lieutenant Governor of Nevada also functioned as the ex-officio warden of the prison.

A blaze destroyed the original building in 1867.  Four-years later, a major portion of the prison burned down and was rebuilt with inmate labor and stone from the on-site quarry.

Lieutenant Governor Frank Denver was seriously injured in 1871 during a prison break involving 27 inmates. A year later, Denver refused to concede the prison to Pressly C. Hyman, who had been appointed the new warden under legislation and Governor Lewis R. Bradley sent troops in 1873 to force Denver to surrender the post.

As odd as it might sound today — with the legalization of gaming in Nevada — the prison allowed inmates to gamble in what was called the Bull Pen. Officials set up the casino in 1932, closing it 25-years later in 1967.

The prison was expanded in 1964 and operated as a maximum security facility until 1989, when Ely State Prison was opened to fulfill that function. The prison still houses Nevada’s execution chamber, though no executions are imminent, and the state’s license plate factory will remain there for now.

Closing the prison was debated for years until the last inmates were transferred in January. Officials claimed bringing the aging building up to code would have cost $30 million, and moving inmates to newer, more efficient penitentiaries is expected to save half that amount over the two-year budget cycle.

No decision has been made on what will become of the building.

For years I’ve suffered from the need to belong. It started when I was a child in grade school and in some cases rears its ugly head today.

At both Margaret Keating School and again at Del Norte High, I never felt like I belonged. In fact I often believed I was jus’ outside the circle even when it came to activities I was good at.

Worst of it is that I never out-and-out discussed these feeling – which I consider negative – with anyone. Therefore I don’t actually know if others have got through this or not, though I have my suspicions many have and still do.

Do you?

For me the need has been terrible and I’ve acted extremely superficially. For instance I joined the group ‘Vietnam Veterans of America’ as an associate member. The only personal connection I have to the Vietnam War is my father’s service.

I left the organization after only a few meetings having learned I didn’t belong.

Furthermore, I joined the ‘Civil Air Patrol.’ I was a member of the ‘Nevada Air Wing’ for nearly four-years and yet never truly felt I was a part of the organization.

It continued as I joined the ‘Cold Springs Volunteer Fire Department.’ That lasted about four years as I struggled to perfect my first aid and CPR teaching, followed by earning my instructorship in Emergency Medicine.

And speaking of that – I taught at ‘Truckee Meadows Community College’ for about a year only to discover — it was a fairly closed-society that I didn’t really belong in. Add to this — working as a paid instructor for the ‘American Red Cross’ for ten-years — which got me no further in my career.

Later — for fun — I joined the ranks of the ‘Comstock Civil War Re-enactors’ as the groups Chaplain. That lasted about three years before I grew tired of the politics and in-fighting among members and was eventually chased away by an angry Aunt.

That’s a touchy subject for another time.

It was about that time that it occurred to me – I don’t NEED to belong to anything – I was acting on my WANTS. Instead I realized I needed to finally be honest with myself and focus on my NEEDS.

And as I continue my life’s journey — I’m learning I still feel the WANT to belong — but instead I find I NEED only my family, friends, church and work. It’s all part of being a work in progress.

A historic marker displayed on the front of Dayton’s Odeon Hall claims Ulysses S. Grant spoke from the balcony of the building.  And while the pages of Nevada newspapers were filled with reports on Grant’s visit — he never spoke in Dayton.

The Lyon County Times in its November 1st, 1879 issue noted, “General Grant…passed through Dayton…He did not stop or pause…but hastened to Sutro…and General Grant spoke a few words.”

The Lyon County Times continues that had Grant stopped in Dayton the residents “would have given him one of those receptions which have made the country famous, which in war times earned it the name of the banner Republican county of the state…”

The former president spent three days making speeches in Virginia City and taking photographs, touring the mines, and traveling the length of the recently completed Sutro Tunnel. He and his wife boarded the V&T train October 29th bound for Reno on their way home to Galena, Illinois, never to return to Nevada again.

Things got crazy-weird around the house this afternoon. I was taking a nap when the dogs suddenly went nuts.

Before I could respond to their barking, I heard our front doorknob jiggling back and forth – followed by someone messing with the dead bolt.

I concluded someone was trying to break into the house.

After trying to see who was at the door and having no luck, I pulled my rifle off the wall and cranked one into the chamber. Then I stood back a couple of feet – ready to shoot.

As a small back story to this situation – over the weekend two young males were recorded on surveillance footage kicking in doors and running away. This has happen three times that I’ve learned of in the last two days.

While standing there aiming my rifle – the noise stopped and I could hear voices as they spoke to one another. I looked outside and saw it was two kids about 12 or 13 years of age and they were talking with my next door neighbor.

Quickly, I opened the front door and shouted to the young boy closest to me. “Do I know you?”

He answered. “No.”

I then asked, “Do you know me?”

Again he answered, “No.”

“Then why are you trying to get into my house?” I asked.

“We found your key,” the boy answered as he stepped up onto the front porch, “And we wanted to see if you were home.”

It was at that moment he saw the rifle I had in my hand. He came to a sudden stop as he stared at it.

“Yeah, you could have gotten yourself killed,” I stated as flatly as I could.

I could hear my heart pounding as I realized what I had jus’ done.

Then I told him and his friend about what has been happening around the area. I also did my best to explain the fact that entering a person’s home — even if you have a key in hand – is illegal.

The thought of him gaining entry and the idea of how horrible the outcome could have been leaves me with a sickening feeling in the middle of my gut.

Though it’s long after midnight — I’m up having a snack. Two egg sandwiches and a hot lemonade spiked with ‘Sailor Jerry’s Rum.” It’s a meal that can’t be beat considering how early or late one might believe it to be.

Much of my day was spent on my own. My wife was at work while our housemate was off helping a friend move.

I ended up in mid-town Reno taking pictures of murals — something I’ve been mistakenly calling graffiti.

It’s always amazes me that I cab find art where ever I go and in much of what I see. I’m even more amazed when I manage to capture a picture that I can call my own work.

More than taking photo’s occurred as well — and soon you’ll know why my lemonade’s laced.

For the third time in my life, I was hit by a moving vehicle. And for the third time — I walked away virtually unscathed.

It happened as I was crossing Virginia Street near Lulu’s Chic Boutique jus’ north of Arroyo. I looked both way and even waited for some cars traveling north ob Virginia to pass by.

After stepping out into the road I watched as two cars heading south failed to stop for me as I walked through the cross walk. I wasn’t sure if the third car was going to stop or not.

It did — but the truck I saw pull up to the stop sign across the street from me decided to go when the third car did stop. I saw the hood of the truck out of the left periphery of my eye and prepared for the worst.

The driver of the truck managed to stop in time and not run me over. However the bumper smacked into me and I banged up my left arm pretty good on the hood of his truck.

He apologized for not seeing me and nearly running me over. I let him off the hook with, “It’s okay, accidents happen,” because I thought the dude was going to burst out in tears.

I’m jus’ now beginning to feel the pain.

Ingredients:
1/2 cup chopped SPAM
1/3 cup chopped fresh pineapple
1/4 cup butter or margarine
½ cup milk
4-eggs
Salt and pepper

Directions:
Cook SPAM and pineapple in butter until glazed.
Blend in eggs.
Cook over low heat, folding SPAM and pineapple into eggs.
Serve while still hot.

Question: When is it “racist” to call a group of African-American females, “Black?”

Answer: When they’re being excessively noisy.

In a recent tweet, Associated Students Union of Nevada Senator Spenser Blank wrote, “These girls are being so loud in the library…oh wait, they’re Black.” The electronic message was disclosed in a University of Nevada, Reno campus newsletter published by the secret society, “Keys and Coffins.”

The disclosure led to Blanks resignation from the school’s governmental body. Furthermore it’s opened him up to criticism by members of the student body, the Associated Students Union, and UNR’s President Marc Johnson not to mention the local press.

Since political correctness means minimizing social and institutional offense in occupational, gender, racial, cultural, sexual orientation, religion, beliefs or ideologies, disability, and age-related contexts  — why is no one’s upset he pointed out they were females?

It was quick visit from President Obama as he sat down at the dining room table with a Reno couple. He came to town after an overnight visit at actor George Clooney’s home where he raked in nearly $15 million, a record for a single fundraiser.

Guests paid $40,000 to attend and included Robert Downey Jr., Barbra Streisand and her husband James Brolin, Jack Black, Salma Hayek, Tobey Maguire and Stacy Keibler. It’s a stark contrast with Obama’s visit to highlight the plight of struggling homeowners in Nevada.

During the scheduled visit he had a private conversation with Valerie and Paul Keller to discuss their refinancing situation as they had been ‘upside down,’ on their mortgage. Then after talking with the Kellers, Obama took the opportunity to blasted the GOP — saying Republicans had no new ideas and weren’t willing to work with him.

“They think that all we can do are try the things that have been done in the past — things that they’ve tried in the past. So they want to cut more taxes, especially for the wealthiest Americans,” the President said. “They want to cut back on the rules that we put in place for banks and financial institutions. They’ve said that they want to let the housing market hit bottom, and just hope for the best.”

Meanwhile Nevada’s Lt. Governor Brian Krowlicki pointed out that discussing home refinancing is not addressing the real issue — which are jobs.

“I appreciate the fact the president is coming to town and sitting the living room with the Kellers but it’s not going to solve our problems,” Krolicki said during a brief conference call ahead of Obama’s visit.

Congressman Mark Amodei  was also part of the same conference call, adding, “There are several projects that are no brainers.  It’s like the Yerington Mine Bill Project, 800 hundred jobs on the ground at no cost to the government with no cultural or environmental issues.”

But for me — the most telling thing to come out of President Obama’s visit with the Kellers is that when asked, Valerie Keller says she’s still undecided about who she’s voting for in the upcoming Presidential election this November.

“I’m leaning, but undecided,” she says tells KOLO-TV’s Ed Pearce, “I’m still watching the economy.”

Talk about kicked in the crotch! I mean what’s a popular President gotta do to earn the vote of a commoner?

Time and again I’m reminded we don’t always get what we want, but we always get what we need. This lesson was re-enforced once more – this time by the sound the leaves make as they flitter-flit in the breeze.

The gentle rustling noises came to me as I sat outback of my home, soaking up sun and recuperating from over-exercising my worn-out body. I heard amid the light snapping of those leaves the realization that I am and never will be anything more than what I am.

This caused me to look about and see how everything I’ve worked to develop such as my house, with its worn and weathered siding, needing a fresh coat of paint and nails pounded back in to the weeds that manage to grow strong in my otherwise manicured lawn. All that I saw has deteriorated and needs the human touch to stay in usable order as an organized society desires.

Then it dawned on me that the tree I sat under – with a little water and a change of season – has again transformed itself into something bright and friendly. It needs no intervention from me – or from anyone for that matter.

These things I’ve observed tell me that I am insignificant – that all men are insignificant — especially in the face of nature, which is God’s expression on earth. It’s the kind of reminder I needed.

Whistling – someone was whistling and as far as I knew – I was the only person in the radio station. I set my coffee down and continued from the newsroom down the long hallway towards the front office.

Whoever was whistling stayed ahead of me – as if they knew what direction I’d be walking. By the time I passed by the reception area and into the inner offices, the whistling seemed to be coming from the kitchen.

I stopped and listened – realizing the whistling had gone silent.

And even though it was now quiet, I continued through the building hoping to find whomever was making the noise. I found no-one.

About two-hours later, jus’ as I was heading for the backdoor and the parking lot where my truck was parked, I heard my name. It sounded like a male voice.

This caused me to stop in my tracks. I listened for further sound – but nothing came.

So I went back to the newsroom and asked my co-worker, Matt, if he’d shouted my name. I could tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t even before he told me, “No.”

Instead of returning to the inner office area, I decided to go out the side door and around to where my truck sat. I’d had enough of what or whoever it was playing tricks on me.