OPINION
Wallowa.com
Wednesday, February 16, 2022
A5
IT’S ABOUT
HEALTH AND
WELLNESS
Ann Bloom
Beef IS what’s
for dinner —
checking out
its beneﬁ ts
N
o one in America needs to ask
what’s for dinner. It’s beef,
right?
Beef is the most popular meat on
American dinner tables, according
to meat specialty websites. In 2018,
Americans consumed 57 pounds of
beef, almost a pound a week. It’s no
longer just for dinner, though. Reci-
pes featuring beef, in many forms, can
be found in dishes for breakfast and
lunch, too.
February is National Beef Month.
Beef has appeared in the lexicon of
American advertising several times.
Many people remember Clara Pel-
ler and her “Where’s the beef?” com-
mercial for Wendy’s restaurant back
in 1984. Then, in 1992, “Beef. It’s
what’s for dinner,” was launched
by the National Livestock and Meat
Board to promote the consumption of
beef.
“Beef is categorized as a red meat,”
writes Atli Arnarson, Ph.D., “a term
used for the meat of mammals which
contains higher amounts of iron than
poultry or ﬁ sh.”
A Healthline.com contributor, he
writes that fresh, lean beef is rich in
various vitamins and minerals espe-
cially iron and zinc. Therefore, beef is
recommended as part of a healthy diet.
Beef is composed of protein and
varying amounts of fat. The protein
content of lean cooked beef is 26%-
27%. It contains all nine essential
amino acids needed for the growth
and maintenance of the body. Meat
is one of the most complete dietary
sources of protein.
Beef contains varying amounts of
fat which contributes to ﬂ avor and cal-
orie content. It also contains B vita-
mins, zinc, iron, and niacin (a B
vitamin).
The U.S. Department of Agricul-
ture’s deﬁ nition of a lean cut of beef
is a 3.5-ounce serving that contains
less than 10 grams total fat. The Mayo
Clinic website lists lean cuts cited
by the USDA as round roast, bot-
tom round roast, and top sirloin steak
among others.
There are eight main, sometimes
referred to as primal, cuts of beef.
These eight primal cuts are divided
into more than 60 subprimal cuts,
according to certiﬁ edangusbeef.com.
The cuts are the brisket, shank, rib,
loin, round, chuck, ﬂ ank and short
plate.
Beef may be prepared several ways
including grilling, broiling, stir frying,
roasting and baking. Muscle usage
during the life of the animal, marbling,
bones and other factors all contribute
to the ﬂ avor and texture of each cut of
meat. Marbling is the white fat streak-
ing that runs through the meat. It is
what also contributes to the tenderness
of the cut of meat.
According to the website, frugalc-
ity.com, less tender cuts of meat such
as cuts from the chuck or round like
chuck roast and round steak beneﬁ t
from marinades and slow cooking in
the oven or in a slow cooker to tender-
ize them. The most expensive cut of
beef is the ﬁ let mignon, a cut of meat
taken from the tenderloin’s narrower
end. This muscle is not used much
during the steer’s life and is very ten-
der. Another tender cut is the New
York strip steak.
Beef can be frozen for six months
to a year if properly wrapped. Thaw-
ing and refreezing is not recom-
mended as this aﬀ ects the texture and
quality of the meat.
Meat should be stored in the cold-
est part of the refrigerator and can be
kept there until ready for use, usually
two to three days. It should be kept
in a plastic bag on the lowest shelf to
avoid the potential of raw meat juices
coming into contact with other food.
Meat should be thawed in the refrig-
erator, not on a kitchen counter. Meat
left at room temperature invites bac-
teria growth which can cause a food-
borne illness.
Clara Peller no longer wonders
where’s the beef, but Sam Elliott is
still telling us that beef is what’s for
dinner.
For more information and recipes
featuring beef, visit www.foodhero.
org to see what you can make for din-
ner … or lunch ... or breakfast, using
beef.
———
Ann Bloom lives in Enterprise and
has worked for the OSU Extension Ser-
vice for 15 years as a nutrition educa-
tor. She studied journalism and educa-
tion at Washington State University.
‘The code will always go through’
WALLOWA
COUNTY
VETERANS
CORNER
Jack James
M
ission: To highlight some of the
awesome veterans in this county,
and as a form of education to the
general public and reminder of the service,
sacriﬁ ce, and sometimes fun of duty in the
U.S. Military Services. Wallowa County has
approximately 7,000 residents; more than
1,000 of them are veterans. They are your
friends, neighbors, workers, and co-workers.
Please take a moment and get to know them.
Remember — “Support the Troops” and
remember the veterans.
Ron “Stormy” Burns, of Joseph
— “The code will always go
through” (quote from Stormy)
“I learned Morse code when I was 14
years old,” Stormy said. Also, “The trouble
with my Navy job was that I
loved it!”
Ron was a communi-
cations technician/radio-
man. His job entailed listen-
ing to our country’s enemies’
Morse code, translating it and
passing it up the Navy chain
Burns
of command to higher head-
quarters, to include directly
to the Joint Chiefs of Staﬀ at the Pentagon and
U.S. Capitol. Ron loves to poke fun at the fact
that he also worked almost directly for the
National Security Agency as well (the NSA
being our country’s lead agency in communi-
cations and communications intercept).
Ron says, “NSA really means No Such
Agency and/or Never Say Anything.” (No
doubt the NSA will be calling Ron about this
article).
Ron “Stormy” Burns joined the Navy in
1952 and retired in 1973 as a chief petty oﬃ -
cer (E-7) — 20 years of almost consecu-
tive service. He did have one break in ser-
vice for about six months, when he got out
of the Navy and went to work for a newspa-
per. However, after a small work accident,
Ron’s immediate boss told him that he should
go back in the Navy — so he did! He missed
and loved it anyway. Service and sacriﬁ ce
was already in Ron’s blood and DNA; his
father was a career U.S. Coast Guard Oﬃ cer.
As such, Ron was born in Portland, Oregon,
but remembers moving to and living in Ket-
chikan, Alaska, and Marysville, California.
Things always seem to happen for a reason
and Ron is a big fan of “destiny” in a person’s
life. It started right from beginning for Ron’s
military career. He distinctly remembers
going to the Military Entrance Processing Sta-
tion in Seattle, Washington, from Marysville
with 11 other young men. When they arrived
and got oﬀ the bus, they were told to line up
(all 12 of them) and told to count oﬀ by fours;
i.e. one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four.
Ron had intended to join the Coast Guard
(just like Dad), however destiny overrode and
all the “fours” were assigned to go into the
Navy. Ron was a “four.” Bam! His career in
the Navy started.
Family life. Yes, you are allowed to get
married and have a family while in the mil-
itary. Ron met his wife-to-be, Shirley, when
they were the only two people to show up
for choir practice at their high school. Ron
remembers it being a rainy evening (proba-
bly why no one else showed up for the choir
practice) and it was “love at ﬁ rst sight.” Shir-
ley’s father was a preacher. Ron had to “toe-
the-line” even before he joined the military!
In other words, stand straight and tall, don’t
you wiggle, don’t you move. No hanky-panky
stuﬀ there, mister. Seven children later (ﬁ ve
boys and two girls), a wonderful woman and
married life ended when Shirley passed away
in 1991.
While in the Navy, Ron and his family
moved around the nation and world. From
San Diego, California, to Yokohama, Japan,
to Adak, Alaska, to Maryland, to Elmen-
dorf, Alaska, just to name a few duty stations.
Ron also remembers being assigned to Adak,
and being told that his family could join him
sooner if he “volunteered” to help ﬁ x up and
paint his home on the base. So, he did.
Back to the future, and/or destiny. Remem-
ber, Ron learned Morse code while in elemen-
tary school and high school, pretty much on
his own when he was 14 years old. He was a
little upset when the Navy sent him to radio
“code school” to learn Morse code. After all,
he already knew it. But of course, not “The
Navy way.” Ron remembers the chief instruc-
tor waking him up in class and being angry
with this new recruit falling asleep while prac-
ticing code. But the instructor would also be
astounded, because while asleep, Ron would
and could copy the code in his sleep perfectly.
It was already in his blood and DNA, just like
the service and sacriﬁ ce that he had inherited
from his father.
Ron “Stormy” Burns attributes his whole
life to destiny and God’s grace and interven-
tion. From knowing “the code,” to marriage
to his love at ﬁ rst sight, to the Navy, duty sta-
tions and doing a full and honorable career in
the Navy. Stormy — NSA should really mean
“Navy Still Angry” at you leaving the ser-
vice. God bless and remember — the code
will always go through, thanks to you, Stormy
Burns.
Post Script: No doubt at this juncture
the reader is probably wondering how Ron
“Stormy” Burns got the nickname “Stormy.”
Well, shipmate — it is just another thing Ron
inherited from his father (Ralph Burns) who
was a career Coast Guard oﬃ cer as men-
tioned previously, and he had a dynamic char-
acter/personality, as such his crews would
sometimes (in private of course) refer to him
as “Stormy.” Hence, at some point in time in
Ron’s Navy career he also adopted the nick-
name “Stormy.” (But not exactly for the same
reason as good old Dad.)
———
Jack James is a 35-year veteran of the
U.S. Navy and serves as a veterans service
oﬃ cer with the Disabled American Veterans
organization.
Inside the Klavern — fear and loyalty
MAIN STREET
Rich Wandschneider
“I
nside the Klavern” is a book pub-
lished in 1999. The subtitle is “The
Secret History of a Ku Klux Klan of
the 1920s.” The place is La Grande, Oregon.
In January of 1968, Colon R. Eberhard, an
86-year-old “former state legislator, school
board commissioner and Masonic lodge
master of La Grande,” was fatally injured by
a car while crossing the street. When the con-
tents of his safe were processed for probate,
an unlabeled folder containing 200 pages of
minutes and commentary of the La Grande
KKK was found along with, but separate
from, 63 years of the respected attorney’s
legal ﬁ les. They covered the years 1922-24,
beginning in May, making it almost exactly
100 years ago that the La Grande klavern
started business.
The stash remained in the hands of a local
lawyer, was looked at and copied by another
lawyer — who was Catholic — before being
turned over to the Oregon Historical Soci-
ety. The copy made its way into the hands of
a reporter at the La Grande Observer in the
mid 1980s, and a surviving Klan member
was interviewed for a story.
I have vague memories of hearing about
the La Grande Klan, and remember clearly
Lola Hopkins, a Protestant Johnson who
married Catholic Joe Hopkins, telling me
about a cross burning outside of Enterprise.
And, more recently, there is the story, told by
Maxville Heritage Interpretive Center direc-
tor Gwen Trice, of a Klansmen visit to Max-
ville. The white superviser told the robed vis-
itors that he knew exactly who they were
under their white hoods, and that they had
better get on home, which they did.
More recently, Rick Swart told me that in
his last months as editor of the Chieftain, he
had begun a ﬁ le on local, Wallowa County,
activities of the Klan. He didn’t know where
the ﬁ le was now, but the conversation with
him and his mention of the book reignited
my interest.
I ordered it, and have been making my
way through a series of clipped messages
about patriotism, Prohibition, public school
education and camaraderie among the La
Grande Klansmen and those from neighbor-
ing klaverns in Baker, Pendleton and Elgin.
There is a lot about titles, robes, initiations,
helping the sick and downtrodden and about
the evils of drink and Catholicism.
Negroes, Jews, Asians, the Irish and new
immigrants all come in for criticism, but it
is the Catholics who were the spurs in La
Grande Klansmen’s sides. Catholics man-
aged one of the town’s banks, a few busi-
nesses, including Herman’s lunch counter,
and had insinuated themselves into the public
school — while educating their own children
in parochial schools.
The original KKK had risen and fallen
after the Civil War, was revived again in
1915 in Georgia, and spread rapidly across
the country. Oregon was particularly fer-
tile Klan land, with big chapters in Medford,
Eugene and Portland, and a governor, Walter
Pierce, who might have been a member but
was surely sympathetic to the Klan. He was
a La Grande-area farmer, and spoke at La
Grande Klan meetings, where he was called
a “Klansman.” The library at Eastern Oregon
University is named after him.
The gist of things in La Grande was that
200-300 members met frequently and pat-
ted each other’s backs, shamed people who
patronized the German Catholic butcher and
joined with others across the state to help
elect Pierce and pass an education bill which
made “public” education, aimed squarely at
Catholic schools, compulsory.
Members were noted by occupation.
There were mechanics and farmers, insur-
ance agents, barbers, railroad workers and
ministers. The mainline Protestant churches
were heavily involved, as were the Masons.
What the men shared was fears, which they
assuaged with loyalty. The minutes are mun-
dane. They don’t exude hate, but show fears
and applaud the loyalties of members.
In 1922, recent and present fears were
many: World War I must have taken relatives
of those La Grande Klansman; the commu-
nists had taken Russia and had a strong U.S.
presence; the country had suﬀ ered through
the ﬂ u pandemic of 1917-18; the Temper-
ance movement led to the 18th Amendment
and Prohibition; and a new, urban, fast “jazz
age,” which ﬂ aunted prohibition and conven-
tion, was on the rise.
Loyalty was solidarity and comfort. It was
helping widows, buying hay for a down-and-
out farmer, wearing the same white gowns
and repeating the same oaths — and distrust-
ing the same things: alcohol, Asians and,
especially, Catholics, only 7% of the 1920s
Oregon population, but “others” whose cus-
toms of worship and places of origin were
foreign, who’d been accused of fomenting
the Cayuse Indians against the Whitmans,
who had parochial schools where they pro-
mulgated their own ideologies.
It’s tempting to catalog today’s fears —
of pandemic, immigrants, government and,
most seriously, a shrinking white majority,
against those of 100 years ago.
———
Rich Wandschneider is the director of
the Josephy Library of Western History and
Culture.