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Posts published in “Day: June 3, 2021”

Who are they?


A commentary from Darrell Kerby, from Bonners Ferry, Idaho.

Who are these people? Where did they come from?  

Now, most of our new citizens that have immigrated to our beautiful North Idaho are not the subject of this writing. Only a few of them who believe and have self-anointed themselves as our saviors are being discussed here.
When did they decide to take advantage of our friendly accepting nature to exploit and take over and politically control where we were born and live, our beautiful North Idaho? North Idaho’s accepting nature has been turned against us by these new people who have run for political office as Republicans, were voted into office because of our own complacency of either not voting or not taking the time to learn who they were.

Today these recently minted elected officials now believe they have garnered enough power to begin to expel locally grown and raised Republicans from our party by calling them names like non-Republicans or RINOs (Republicans in name only). Well, it’s high time those of us who have buried loved ones for generations in the hallowed soil of our home ground to stand up and make our statement that enough is enough.

Recently a group of these newly minted radicals who are trying to co-opt our party have come out to smear one of our own locally home grown veteran heroes who we elected as our state senator, Jim Woodward. His alleged crime? Using his brain when he votes. He actually doesn’t listen to the organization that is being used as a shadow government known as the Idaho Freedom Foundation, a Boise-based lobbying organization that has set itself up as judge and jury for anyone who has the audacity to vote against their radical will.

Our Republican Party has never been against public education, has never been about preventing efficiency in emergency response to wide-spread disasters in our state. Our Republican Party has never been racist, or tolerant of radical white supremacy groups, or individuals who advocate violence against our state and nation. It’s time to call them out for who they are.

Let’s look at who Jim Woodward really is. A decorated veteran who was born and raised in Bonners Ferry. He attended and graduated from the University of Idaho, willingly put his life on the line to protect our freedoms by serving in our Armed forces and due to his high IQ and intellectual intelligence raised to the level of being entrusted with the most powerful weapon that has ever existed, a Trident submarine. Jim literally was trusted with the keys to launching nuclear weapons. Today, he started and owns a successful construction business home based in Bonner County where he also is raising his family. Jim’s ability to reason and understand complex issues has placed him as one of Idaho’s most respected leaders.
His personal adherence to our local North Idaho moral values and his proven strength of functioning under extreme stress has allowed him to stand up to the bullying tactics used by the “Idaho Freedom Foundation.“

It is time for all of us who value the lifestyle and freedoms that we all grew up with here in North Idaho to reject the agenda of these radical newcomers. While we are naturally accepting and willing to provide people a lot of slack when they arrive, we are also willing to tighten that slack when we see it clearly abused.

Darrell Kerby is a former mayor of Bonners Ferry.



Wars kill, and somehow that death in battle is more hallowed than another. Service should be honored. The ones who live through a war might have lost something vital too. As we remember the wartime fallen this Memorial Day, let us also remember the harm we cause when we pursue mortal conflict.

My father was no flag waving patriot, though he was a Republican. World War II found him nearing the end of his college time at Oregon State. He paid for his tuition bussing tables at a frat house and spinning ropes to entertain dudes in Sun Valley. He enlisted because he knew otherwise, he’d be drafted, and maybe through enlistment he could become an officer. Their pay was better.

But he wouldn’t tell me about it. I was a third grader, drawing pictures of tanks and bombers, reading American Heritage books about every war I could. I even asked him about the medals I heard he’d gotten.

“Dad, what’s a Purple Heart for?”

He pulled on his Pall Mall and shook his head.

“How did you get yours?”

He looked away and held a long pause. “Shrapnel in my butt. Million-dollar wound they called it.” I had seen the divot in his buttock when he got out of the bath.

“How about the Bronze Star? What was that for?”

Here he shook his head even stronger and looked up and away. “They gave those to everybody.”

I tried many times to ask him about war, fighting, getting shot at or shooting at others. He would tell me nothing.

Maybe I just didn’t know how to ask my old man in a way he could relate to. Maybe it was my distance from him he felt, his only son. Maybe he was born with too much shame.

His birth was in a tent out by the creek because his dad’s family wouldn’t allow the woman/girl his father married six months before his birth into their respectable house.

Or maybe the war had damaged him, and he just couldn’t share that pain. I will never know.

Maybe it was the shame I felt, when the teacher asked, “What does your father do?” and I answered as I had been told, “He’s self-employed.” Because I couldn’t say he played poker for money and didn’t pay taxes on his winnings. He didn’t know anything about Libertarians, but Republican was as close as he could get fifty years ago.

I grew into my teen age years and my disrespect grew. Mark Twain talked about how the teenage son sees his father for a fool. Twain says the son marvels that the old man can learn so much as the son matures. But it was much later I grew to respect him; too late.

I was arguing with a friend about inherited intelligence. “Look at our family. My two sisters were valedictorians in high school classes for 400+, and I was salutatorian in a class of 500+, and my parents were pretty average.”

He smirked. “Are you sure?”

I can’t be.

Dad was very complex, even though he was a Republican.

Maybe it was when he beat me time and again in Scrabble that I saw him differently. Maybe it was when he was so tender with my daughters, and I didn’t remember that tenderness that my sight changed. I don’t know.

His drinking faded. His business failures did not burden me though I believe he carried them. And the war experience might have explained how we had to be so careful waking him up. Mom would say, “Dinners ready, go wake your dad.” And I, the youngest would have to.

“Dad!” I would call from the doorway. If I had to touch him, I knew to step back because he would lash out violently.

Wars kill. Wars main. Wars harm. Let us remember.