Netlets for Wednesday, Nov. 12

"Minnesota Mischief," a Wall Street Journal editorial reprinted on the Star Tribune's Opinion Exchange blog today, is amazingly irresponsible and partisan. It repeats unsubstantiated and false Coleman campaign assertions of impropriety in the finalization of the certified vote numbers. And for what? For nothing.

The certified vote count results do not matter, and have not mattered since the narrow gap between Al Franken and Norm Coleman votes became apparent, and the law mandated a recount. Even if the certified numbers had changed to show a Franken lead, the only numbers that matter at this point are the recount numbers. So there was and is no motive for Franken supporters to engage in "mischief."

The only vote count that matters is the recount vote. This slanderous editorial is an irresponsible and unnecessary airing of the Strib's anti-Franken laundry. Shame on you.

ROBERT ALBERTI, MINNEAPOLIS

Now that this election cycle is finally over, I sincerely hope that a majority of the voters of the United States remember the themes fear that were a part of this election, as we will hear them again in four years.

What voters in the next election will find is that all of the things that they were to fear about those who were running for office were not things to fear at all. No one is going to turn us to socialism, no one in Congress is "anti-American," no one is going to take away guns, no one is a "sleeper" Muslim. Liberals are not "godless"; Conservatives are not "fascists."

If we can remember these themes, then if four years we won't have to say, "I heard that (insert a candidates name) wants to (insert an absurd idea) when they get elected. If we can remember that, then we can all begin to vote based on the issues and ideas, not on the themes that the candidates want us believe. And the "Joe the Plumbers" of this world will be what they actually are, not what a candidate wants them to be.

JOHN STIGMAN, OSAKIS, MINN.

Twenty-some years ago Minnesota approved gambling. The proceeds, as I recall, were to go to such things as parks, environment and green space. When the legislators saw the pile of money that came in, they decided that it was too much to use for such mundane purposes and legislated to use it for other things.

While the just-passed Legacy Amendment proceeds supposedly must be used for the stated purposes, if you believe Legislatures will be able to keep their fingers out of a $300 million a year kitty, you just haven't seen enough Legislatures. There will be some wonderfully creative ways to "assure" clean water that one can't, in his wildest imagination, connect to that purpose. The "art" uses will be even more bizarre.

DALE VANDER LINDEN, DELANO

The Star Tribune photo showing Katie McWatt, Matthew Little and Josie Johnson under the headline "I never thought I would see this" (Nov. 5) captures the essence of President-elect Obama's victory. As one who traveled alongside of these three to the 1963 March on Washington and helped fight the good civil rights battles of those days, I could never have the same inner feelings that Katie, Matthew and Josie experienced at the moment the picture was taken. What a beautiful sight!

MAX FALLEK, ST. LOUIS PARK

The earliest years of my life, learning to walk and talk, were spent in a brownstone fourplex, a couple of blocks from Plymouth and Lyndale in north Minneapolis. We didn't have a sand box, but the cinder pile of spent coal in the back provided a play area for us. Many people of color lived in a neighborhood north of us along Broadway. My mother taught me that they were to be called "gentle people." These were the days when George Mikan was the tallest player in the NBA, Jackie Robinson, Satchell Paige and Luke Easter were the only African-American players in the major leagues, and the American Bowling Congress had not yet opened the membership door to black bowlers.

In the '50s, my family moved to Hopkins, and growing into the exploratory age, my friends and I located the two dumps in the city. There was the Red Owl dump, full of plywood and pallet wood great for making treehouses. The Hopkins city dump had myriad treasures. We once got an old bicycle frame, pedals and sprockets, a couple of wheels with only a few spokes missing, and with a couple of bucks at the hardware store we added tires, a few bolts, and a lot of chain oil and rebuilt a bike. Add a clothespin and a Bill Tuttle baseball card and we could make it sound like a motor bike.

Meanwhile, a young boy in Hawaii had plenty of sand to play in, but was not blessed with the spent coal cinders because the tropical sun was all that was needed for warmth. And an older gentleman in the warm sunshine of our southern states, had a dream.

A little older and us poor but honest white kids found we could earn money picking raspberries or carrying golf bags at the local country club. Once a couple of black kids came to the caddy shack but they were turned away. The caddy master said he already had enough caddies, but we knew it was a lie. We knew the real reason, but we were 13 and our opinion didn't matter. In 1967, my old Plymouth and Lyndale neighborhood was ravaged by protests and rioting. I didn't agree with the methods, but I did sympathize with the cause. Later I was drafted and spent several months working at the Army Hospital in Fort Campbell, Ky., about 40 miles north of Nashville, Tenn., and about 200 miles from Memphis. I had many new friends of all races and creeds who each were serving our country as best they could. It was there in April of 1968 that I came to really understand the ugliness of racism. Many of my aforementioned black friends wouldn't speak to me for weeks after that dark April 4 day in Tennessee.

Some wounds take time to heal, and I'm not sure if this one ever totally will. But as we have upgraded ourselves from the city dump in Hopkins, and the playgrounds of sand and cinders, to the high speed Internet of today, we find ourselves 40 years later welcoming Barack Obama and his message of change, ironically to the "White" house. He will take the oath of office just five days before the 80th birthday of the man who had the dream. As for me, I never would have dreamed in my lifetime that the United States would elect a president with a bowling average of 37. God Bless America.

DOUG BURNIKEL, BROOKLYN PARK