When I was 6 years old, I confused the word "inaugeration" with "assassination". I couldn't understand why Nixon would attend his own inaugeration. Mom straightened that out for me. If you recall, assassination was a hot topic on the news in those days.
In keeping up with my blog reading, I saw that one blogger was heading to DC for Bush's inaugeration and was going to wear a t-shirt emblazoned with the initials "FUGWB" I remember my first beer.
Yes, it's really impressive to tell the President of the United States "fuck you", let's face it, I flipped off Bill Clinton every time I saw him on TV after 1996.
This particular blogger was steamed because the POTUS is against gay marriage. I say to her, and to others who disagree with the POTUS (whether it is Bush, Clinton, Nixon, etc) "Run for congress." In fact "Run for congress as a Republican".
Am I nuts?
No. If you want to make changes in our country, you need to subvert and convert. To borrow from an old "West Wing" plotline, if 2 million gun control advocates joined the NRA and called for a vote at the next convention, what will happen?
As a supporter of same sex marriage (SSM as I call it), I think it's time to make a rational strategy. First of all, you have to understand your opponents and their shopworn arguments. Someday, when I run for congress, I hope someone asks me where I stand on SSM. Here's my answer:
Thanks for asking me that question. Now watch how artfully I dodge your question with several questions of my own. Who cares where I stand on SSM? Don't my positions on healthcare, social security, education and taxes have a greater impact on the day-to-day lives of my constituents than who is qualified for marriage? Shouldn't the question be "What's my position on marriage?" Where should I draw the line? If I'm against SSM, shouldn't I be even more against infidelity, abuse and divorce? Where is the line drawn? Is it okay for a man and a woman to be married if only for convenience but it's not okay for a woman and a woman to be married because they are committed to each other forever? It is somehow okay for a man to beat his wife as if she were chattel but it is not okay for a couple of men to be legally recognized as a family? Is it just fine for a woman to engage in extramarital affairs and still be considered as a "married"woman, with all the "respect" and "privileges" that are somehow accorded on her as such? If I'm against SSM because it is somehow "not right", shouldn't I be more opposed to all the horrible things that some heterosexual couples foist upon each other? I'm for MARRIAGE.
It's so much more fun to jump into the pool of rhetoric and quote biblical passages, spit out hate speech, and talk about how much more better you are than "those people". But I wonder if the people who are afraid of SSM would be welcome to a culture that outlaws divorce, infidelity and abuse. "Gosh, we can't outlaw divorce. We should be allowed to be MARRIED TO WHOEVER WE WANT TO BE MARRIED TO."
Anyway, this is a rant is actually about the pointlessness of wearing t-shirts that say "fuck you" to the POTUS. If you want to to change his mind, you have to exert a lot more effort. Wearing a T-Shirt that intimates an expletive doesn't get your point across, sister. All you are doing is giving the people who are against your position more reason to be against your position. "See those awful lesbians, they're telling the president to fuck off".
If you are interested in making SSM a real issue and not a martyr, then let's commit to put a real face on the issue. Let's show the non-believers that REAL people are REALLY impacted, and that these REAL people are entitled to the rights that we all enjoy. Telling the large number of people who are against you that they are idiots isn't going to cut it.
Friday, January 21, 2005
Monday, January 17, 2005
Pride before a fall
My wife was asked to join a group of local gals who host a monthly card game. Not Poker, sadly. It's a game called "Bunco" and I have no idea how it works. All I know is that the few times Jill has "subbed" for a regular player in another group, she has enjoyed it for the most part. As of Friday night, she is now officially in a Bunco group, and we'll be hosting a Bunco game at our home in March.
With the exception of one or two others in this group, the women live in large homes outside of town. That's not to say that I (or we) are any less financially capable than the others, rather we have chosen (after years of grueling self-examination) that living in our modest home and paying it off soon is more important than having a large house on an acre+ of land and waiting an additional 15 years to own it. Of course, I fully expect Jill to decide that now that she's hosting Bunco, why don't we plop down an additional $150,000 and upgrade to a larger home...quick, before March 11.
Jill isn't superficial. For the last three years I wrestled with the idea that the size and cost of my home should reflect my level of career success. We have the money, why not? Jill has always reined me in. However, in the last couple months, she has become embroiled in a personal struggle. If we (meaning me at this moment, but we collectively over the next 15 years) are working so hard to earn this really nice paycheck, shouldn't we have the digs that reflect it? Afterall, real estate is the best investment you can make, right? We looked at a few larger homes and even made an offer on one, but the seller was a little nutso and wouldn't look at our offer until we sold our house.
I was surprised and amused that Jill was wrestling with this. I had always perceived her as immune to this type of materialism. So, more grueling self-examination is called for. You know the kind of self-examination I'm talking about. Like a double-amputee checking himself for testicular cancer. It hurts to check, even if you don't find anything.
As of RIGHT NOW, our position is that we stay in our house and spend our money on travel and fun things. Things can change, though, so I'm trying to keep an open mind.
With the exception of one or two others in this group, the women live in large homes outside of town. That's not to say that I (or we) are any less financially capable than the others, rather we have chosen (after years of grueling self-examination) that living in our modest home and paying it off soon is more important than having a large house on an acre+ of land and waiting an additional 15 years to own it. Of course, I fully expect Jill to decide that now that she's hosting Bunco, why don't we plop down an additional $150,000 and upgrade to a larger home...quick, before March 11.
Jill isn't superficial. For the last three years I wrestled with the idea that the size and cost of my home should reflect my level of career success. We have the money, why not? Jill has always reined me in. However, in the last couple months, she has become embroiled in a personal struggle. If we (meaning me at this moment, but we collectively over the next 15 years) are working so hard to earn this really nice paycheck, shouldn't we have the digs that reflect it? Afterall, real estate is the best investment you can make, right? We looked at a few larger homes and even made an offer on one, but the seller was a little nutso and wouldn't look at our offer until we sold our house.
I was surprised and amused that Jill was wrestling with this. I had always perceived her as immune to this type of materialism. So, more grueling self-examination is called for. You know the kind of self-examination I'm talking about. Like a double-amputee checking himself for testicular cancer. It hurts to check, even if you don't find anything.
As of RIGHT NOW, our position is that we stay in our house and spend our money on travel and fun things. Things can change, though, so I'm trying to keep an open mind.
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Kiss Me Under the Beemer Keys
I don't know about you, but I've detected a recurrent theme in some holiday gift advertising.
Many ads that I've seen and heard directed at men seem to point to some subtle sexual payoff from the recipient. Jewelry especially.
The most disturbing of these is a TV commercial showing couples seeming smooching under some mistletoe. In actuality, the man is holding a set of car keys above the woman's head, and it seems as though she is providing these meaningful kisses in return for the man handing her the keys.
I guess women have changed. If my wife has given me sex in return for a gift, I'm not aware of it. I've always had to work much harder for it (hahaha, that was a joke).
Many ads that I've seen and heard directed at men seem to point to some subtle sexual payoff from the recipient. Jewelry especially.
The most disturbing of these is a TV commercial showing couples seeming smooching under some mistletoe. In actuality, the man is holding a set of car keys above the woman's head, and it seems as though she is providing these meaningful kisses in return for the man handing her the keys.
I guess women have changed. If my wife has given me sex in return for a gift, I'm not aware of it. I've always had to work much harder for it (hahaha, that was a joke).
Thursday, December 09, 2004
The (blog) Women in My Life
frog www.betweenthelakes.blogspot.com
flea www.buggydoo.blogspot.com
mimi www.smartypants.dairyland.com
emlin www.emlin.blogspot.com
dooce www.dooce.com
If I can't get a book deal for each of them, how about one book deal for all of them?
frog and flea are at crossroads.
frog is emotionally frazzled; so many things have happened in her life this year. Yet, she has made it through, a testament to her depth of character and spirit. The older brother in me wishes I could be her older brother.
flea is financially frazzled. Business is not going well, and based on her posts over the last 2 months, the hounds are at the gates. The business savant in me wishes I could fix her business problems.
As you read the blogs of these fine writers, it is difficult to not feel sympathy, empathy, and affection for these people, these women who not only entertain me, but touch my heart.
frog especially. God, if I had a magic wand, I would wave it for her. I have faith, however, that she will find the comfort she needs. I mentioned that she has character and spirit.
(note to loyal (and probably only) reader James: to me, frog reminds me of how rae jean would be. Which is actually a positive thing to say).
Just a few thoughts about these "other women" in my life.
flea www.buggydoo.blogspot.com
mimi www.smartypants.dairyland.com
emlin www.emlin.blogspot.com
dooce www.dooce.com
If I can't get a book deal for each of them, how about one book deal for all of them?
frog and flea are at crossroads.
frog is emotionally frazzled; so many things have happened in her life this year. Yet, she has made it through, a testament to her depth of character and spirit. The older brother in me wishes I could be her older brother.
flea is financially frazzled. Business is not going well, and based on her posts over the last 2 months, the hounds are at the gates. The business savant in me wishes I could fix her business problems.
As you read the blogs of these fine writers, it is difficult to not feel sympathy, empathy, and affection for these people, these women who not only entertain me, but touch my heart.
frog especially. God, if I had a magic wand, I would wave it for her. I have faith, however, that she will find the comfort she needs. I mentioned that she has character and spirit.
(note to loyal (and probably only) reader James: to me, frog reminds me of how rae jean would be. Which is actually a positive thing to say).
Just a few thoughts about these "other women" in my life.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
This is the usual cornball, hopeless romantic stuff that you’ve come to expect from me. I have long since resigned from the Order of Hopeless Romantics, but every now and then I have to blow off a little steam.
Reflecting on My First Kiss
I may be off a week or so, but after 25 years, who cares. I checked the calendar, and it seems to me that this happened on a Saturday night not long after Thanksgiving when the holiday movies were in the theaters1.
I was 17, and experiencing a great deal of angst because I had still not experienced my first kiss. I had been dating Elsie (who was very stunning at our 20 year class reunion, by the way) up until the very night of my 17th birthday. After dating her for 6 months or so, I thought it was time to have a grown-up kiss. She was emphatic that it was not. I was humiliated and discouraged2. I took this as a sign that we should break up.
Linda and I were pals, so I had confided the situation to her. Lo and behold, we started dating a little while later (like the next week). More than anything, I’m guessing that she just wanted to help me past this problem. I was quite smitten with her. I had had a crush3 on her since freshman year when we rode the same bus. She wore braces at the time, and I often thought about what her smile would look like when they came off. I was a Yankee with a horrible complexion and Yankee clothes4. And absolutely no self-confidence. None. Nunca. Zip. Zero.
Perhaps a sense of humor.
Anyhow, we’d been dating for a couple of weeks. You know, going to the movies. That was the extent of my dating capabilities at that time. I really liked her. We would flirt with the idea of smooching. I was so pathetically frightened by the idea of screwing up that even though we would sit in my car in a secluded area, ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING WOULD HAPPEN. It was just a matter of time before she lost patience and pronounced me to be the loser that I, in fact, was.
But one night, after watching the classic Electric Horseman with Robert Redford, Jane Fonda and Willie Nelson (“My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys” was the title track) she issued me an ultimatum: Kiss me or kiss me good-bye.
When faced with difficult decisions, I’ve prided myself on making the correct choice. In no time at all, she brought me up to speed on the whole kissing issue5. As it turned out, my angst was misdirected, and it turns out that Elsie was the psycho, not me.
Now, after 25 years, I’d like to thank Linda for her patience and guidance. It remains a memorable experience for me6.
1 Actually, I’m sure she has little recollection of this event because she wasn’t nearly as screwed up as I was.
2 And yes, I am such a rat bastard that when I saw Elsie at the reunion and saw that she was 8 months pregnant with her 4th or 5th child, it took every ounce of my being not to quip, “I see you must finally be French Kissing”.
3 Okay, I had a crush on every girl, but that’s my problem.
4 I mean, come on…the platform shoes and the Starsky & Hutch sweater? You know, the oversized cardigan with the sash? I loved that sweater. I got beat up the first (and last) time I wore it to school.
5 Now, I realize her husband, Joe, is probably reading this, too. For the record, let me just say that I got my first kiss at seventeen, and lost my virginity7 at twenty-three8. I didn’t move forward from kissing until I was in college, and I had to travel several counties away to accomplish that.
6 And yes, I was a complete ass9 to break up with her. I was caving in to my jealous buddies. I was 17, remember?
7 And no, I won't post a detailed account of that event in February of 2010.
8 And if you thought my first kiss was angst-ridden, you should have seen me that night. Well, maybe not.
9 After careful reflection, I stand by my use of the word “ass”. Linda and I were not destined to grow old together, but she should have dumped me when she was good and ready.
Reflecting on My First Kiss
I may be off a week or so, but after 25 years, who cares. I checked the calendar, and it seems to me that this happened on a Saturday night not long after Thanksgiving when the holiday movies were in the theaters1.
I was 17, and experiencing a great deal of angst because I had still not experienced my first kiss. I had been dating Elsie (who was very stunning at our 20 year class reunion, by the way) up until the very night of my 17th birthday. After dating her for 6 months or so, I thought it was time to have a grown-up kiss. She was emphatic that it was not. I was humiliated and discouraged2. I took this as a sign that we should break up.
Linda and I were pals, so I had confided the situation to her. Lo and behold, we started dating a little while later (like the next week). More than anything, I’m guessing that she just wanted to help me past this problem. I was quite smitten with her. I had had a crush3 on her since freshman year when we rode the same bus. She wore braces at the time, and I often thought about what her smile would look like when they came off. I was a Yankee with a horrible complexion and Yankee clothes4. And absolutely no self-confidence. None. Nunca. Zip. Zero.
Perhaps a sense of humor.
Anyhow, we’d been dating for a couple of weeks. You know, going to the movies. That was the extent of my dating capabilities at that time. I really liked her. We would flirt with the idea of smooching. I was so pathetically frightened by the idea of screwing up that even though we would sit in my car in a secluded area, ABSOLUTLEY NOTHING WOULD HAPPEN. It was just a matter of time before she lost patience and pronounced me to be the loser that I, in fact, was.
But one night, after watching the classic Electric Horseman with Robert Redford, Jane Fonda and Willie Nelson (“My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys” was the title track) she issued me an ultimatum: Kiss me or kiss me good-bye.
When faced with difficult decisions, I’ve prided myself on making the correct choice. In no time at all, she brought me up to speed on the whole kissing issue5. As it turned out, my angst was misdirected, and it turns out that Elsie was the psycho, not me.
Now, after 25 years, I’d like to thank Linda for her patience and guidance. It remains a memorable experience for me6.
1 Actually, I’m sure she has little recollection of this event because she wasn’t nearly as screwed up as I was.
2 And yes, I am such a rat bastard that when I saw Elsie at the reunion and saw that she was 8 months pregnant with her 4th or 5th child, it took every ounce of my being not to quip, “I see you must finally be French Kissing”.
3 Okay, I had a crush on every girl, but that’s my problem.
4 I mean, come on…the platform shoes and the Starsky & Hutch sweater? You know, the oversized cardigan with the sash? I loved that sweater. I got beat up the first (and last) time I wore it to school.
5 Now, I realize her husband, Joe, is probably reading this, too. For the record, let me just say that I got my first kiss at seventeen, and lost my virginity7 at twenty-three8. I didn’t move forward from kissing until I was in college, and I had to travel several counties away to accomplish that.
6 And yes, I was a complete ass9 to break up with her. I was caving in to my jealous buddies. I was 17, remember?
7 And no, I won't post a detailed account of that event in February of 2010.
8 And if you thought my first kiss was angst-ridden, you should have seen me that night. Well, maybe not.
9 After careful reflection, I stand by my use of the word “ass”. Linda and I were not destined to grow old together, but she should have dumped me when she was good and ready.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Timeline
I'm flat-out stealing this from frog. Hey, something has to spur my creative process.
25 years ago: Age 17. Started dating Linda, who at some point would grant me the pleasure of my first kiss. She was a great kisser. I was a late bloomer. She played flute. I have since learned that woodwind players are great kissers. The Iran Hostage Crisis dominated the news. Played guitar all the time. Lots of angst about girls in general (I was 17...and as I said, a late bloomer).
20 years ago: Started dating Nita. Loved her lots. She has a MA in English, and just graduated from nursing school in 2004. I haven't spoken to her in a long time. Her mom and mine passed away about the same time, but she doesn't know that. Writing songs with James (then known as Jim) nonstop. When not in class, played guitar all the time. Drank lots of beer.
15 years ago: Married Jill. Love her even more than Nita and Linda (and Lori, too). First Thanksgiving together. Probably spent at her mom's. My parents moved to Indiana. Worked a job that I hated with my very being. Not happy with that aspect of my life at all. Very happy to be married.
10 years ago: Working on starting a family with Jill. Won't have results for another 17 months. Still working in industry that I despised, but taking Real Estate classes. Jill went to Maui (paid by work, the lucky dog) and I went to Austin. Best 32nd birthday ever.
5 years ago: Jill pregnant with 2nd and last child, due in March. Live in Jill's hometown with daughter and dog. Mom has cancer. Working my favorite job ever. Lions Club, Education Foundation, lots of civic pride.
3 years ago: Mom passed away previous year. Kicking ass in Afghanistan (not me, but my country). Love my job. Rocky spots in relationships, but no one is quitting, which is a good thing. Love my daughter and son. Dog's with Mom.
1 year ago: Everyone in family is happy. Wife and I are thrilled. Work is great. I'm a flippin' success. City Council. New dog.
This year: This is a wonderful time. Kids are great. Can't live without them. The dog is wonderful. Jill is wonderful. Work is still great. My side of the family is falling apart, but if you pour just enough gas on the bridge, it burns quickly and doesn't hurt as much.
Yesterday: Not a 10, but a good day, anyway. Getting excited about the holidays for the first time in a long time.
Today: Working a light schedule, then taking my son to The Incredibles. Can't wait.
Tomorrow: Thanksgiving! I will truly be thankful. Nephews will be there. Now that they both live out of town, it is a wonderful thing to see them at family gatherings. Football, family, and hopefully a good bottle of wine. Followed by all night poker. This is truly happiness.
I know some people for whom Thanksgiving is passing by this year. I'm sorry for them, and wish I could fix all of their problems. I do know, however, that things can improve for everyone if you are just willing to reach for it.
Easy for me to say, anyway.
25 years ago: Age 17. Started dating Linda, who at some point would grant me the pleasure of my first kiss. She was a great kisser. I was a late bloomer. She played flute. I have since learned that woodwind players are great kissers. The Iran Hostage Crisis dominated the news. Played guitar all the time. Lots of angst about girls in general (I was 17...and as I said, a late bloomer).
20 years ago: Started dating Nita. Loved her lots. She has a MA in English, and just graduated from nursing school in 2004. I haven't spoken to her in a long time. Her mom and mine passed away about the same time, but she doesn't know that. Writing songs with James (then known as Jim) nonstop. When not in class, played guitar all the time. Drank lots of beer.
15 years ago: Married Jill. Love her even more than Nita and Linda (and Lori, too). First Thanksgiving together. Probably spent at her mom's. My parents moved to Indiana. Worked a job that I hated with my very being. Not happy with that aspect of my life at all. Very happy to be married.
10 years ago: Working on starting a family with Jill. Won't have results for another 17 months. Still working in industry that I despised, but taking Real Estate classes. Jill went to Maui (paid by work, the lucky dog) and I went to Austin. Best 32nd birthday ever.
5 years ago: Jill pregnant with 2nd and last child, due in March. Live in Jill's hometown with daughter and dog. Mom has cancer. Working my favorite job ever. Lions Club, Education Foundation, lots of civic pride.
3 years ago: Mom passed away previous year. Kicking ass in Afghanistan (not me, but my country). Love my job. Rocky spots in relationships, but no one is quitting, which is a good thing. Love my daughter and son. Dog's with Mom.
1 year ago: Everyone in family is happy. Wife and I are thrilled. Work is great. I'm a flippin' success. City Council. New dog.
This year: This is a wonderful time. Kids are great. Can't live without them. The dog is wonderful. Jill is wonderful. Work is still great. My side of the family is falling apart, but if you pour just enough gas on the bridge, it burns quickly and doesn't hurt as much.
Yesterday: Not a 10, but a good day, anyway. Getting excited about the holidays for the first time in a long time.
Today: Working a light schedule, then taking my son to The Incredibles. Can't wait.
Tomorrow: Thanksgiving! I will truly be thankful. Nephews will be there. Now that they both live out of town, it is a wonderful thing to see them at family gatherings. Football, family, and hopefully a good bottle of wine. Followed by all night poker. This is truly happiness.
I know some people for whom Thanksgiving is passing by this year. I'm sorry for them, and wish I could fix all of their problems. I do know, however, that things can improve for everyone if you are just willing to reach for it.
Easy for me to say, anyway.
Friday, November 12, 2004
Scott Peterson
Yep, Guilty
The principle of Parsimony states that the simplest explanation is usually correct.
Even if there was some elaborate scheme to frame Scotty boy, he deserves jailtime, if not the death penalty, for being so goddamned stupid.
He defines Darwinism.
The principle of Parsimony states that the simplest explanation is usually correct.
Even if there was some elaborate scheme to frame Scotty boy, he deserves jailtime, if not the death penalty, for being so goddamned stupid.
He defines Darwinism.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Auto Update
I have not been blamed for the demise of my car.
In fact, I was given my choice of colors for the new one, which arrives Friday.
It's hard to be mad at someone for not treating you right when they finally do treat you right.
This is an open apology to most of my co-workers who put up with my pointless rage about how company cars are doled out. As one said, I am better than that.
I don't apologize to the under-producer who got a new car before I did. I will continue to bury that clueless prick. So there.
In fact, I was given my choice of colors for the new one, which arrives Friday.
It's hard to be mad at someone for not treating you right when they finally do treat you right.
This is an open apology to most of my co-workers who put up with my pointless rage about how company cars are doled out. As one said, I am better than that.
I don't apologize to the under-producer who got a new car before I did. I will continue to bury that clueless prick. So there.
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
And now, it's one week later
I've let the dust setttle from election day. While I'm pleased at the results from a national standpoint, I was not happy with the interpretation that it was some sort of statement about morals that the president was re-elected. Especially the Wednesday morning whining by the Democratic Party that the Gay Marriage issue killed them at the polls.
In 10 out of 11 states (Utah being the exception) the votes supporting a ban on Gay marriage (or SSM as I call it - see earlier posts supporting SSM) outnumbered votes for Bush. This would be an indication that those voting for Kerry crossed over some line to vote against SSM. Which tells me that the Presidential issue and the SSM issue were not as closely linked as the whiners would have you believe. It is not the fault of Gay Americans that John Kerry is not the president. It would be John Kerry's fault.
We still have a long way to go to improve the Equality Factor in our country.
And to re-iterate from my earlier post: If Christians, heterosexuals, etc want to keep marriage "sacred" for themselves, they need to quit divorcing, philandering, and otherwise disrespecting the institution.
From the "You can lead a horse to water but you can't kick it in the ass" Department:
For the past 3 years, my company car has had a coolant leak that usually manifested itself druing the winter months. I had brought this to the attention of the operations manager many times, as well as our company mechanic. Their solution has been to pour more coolant into the radiator. The leak had become progressively worse, and I expressed my concern that perhaps one day, in the middle of nowhere, the radiator would become empty and I would somehow ruin the engine. The response to my concern was the same as before...pour more coolant into the radiator.
This morning, I blew the engine. Dumb fuckers will probably blame me for it.
In 10 out of 11 states (Utah being the exception) the votes supporting a ban on Gay marriage (or SSM as I call it - see earlier posts supporting SSM) outnumbered votes for Bush. This would be an indication that those voting for Kerry crossed over some line to vote against SSM. Which tells me that the Presidential issue and the SSM issue were not as closely linked as the whiners would have you believe. It is not the fault of Gay Americans that John Kerry is not the president. It would be John Kerry's fault.
We still have a long way to go to improve the Equality Factor in our country.
And to re-iterate from my earlier post: If Christians, heterosexuals, etc want to keep marriage "sacred" for themselves, they need to quit divorcing, philandering, and otherwise disrespecting the institution.
From the "You can lead a horse to water but you can't kick it in the ass" Department:
For the past 3 years, my company car has had a coolant leak that usually manifested itself druing the winter months. I had brought this to the attention of the operations manager many times, as well as our company mechanic. Their solution has been to pour more coolant into the radiator. The leak had become progressively worse, and I expressed my concern that perhaps one day, in the middle of nowhere, the radiator would become empty and I would somehow ruin the engine. The response to my concern was the same as before...pour more coolant into the radiator.
This morning, I blew the engine. Dumb fuckers will probably blame me for it.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Finally, Election Day is here
Voted at 6:20am. Thanked all the poll workers, as I always do. Crossing my fingers that the results, however they end up, are decisive.
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Four years is a very short long time
Four years ago today was the last time that I think my mother recognized me. It was her birthday, her 62nd, and she had been slowly dying of the lung cancer that was diagnosed 5 years before. She fought so hard. She made it through that day, and then declined precipitously and passed away three days later.
I remember sitting by her bedside on her birthday, praying an entire rosary. She could not see me, but she responded to my words by moving her eyebrows. I took that to be a sign that she knew I was there, but then again, it could have been gas.
There she lay, all 60 pounds of what was left of her. Slowly starving, barely breathing. She'd been like that since just after Labor Day, and my father was falling apart, waiting for her to die.
In the four years since her birthday, my kids have grown up to be wonderful children. My marriage is much better than it was. My father is starting to move on. The sad image of her in that bed is fading, being replaced by memories of the glorious mother I remember her to be.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
I remember sitting by her bedside on her birthday, praying an entire rosary. She could not see me, but she responded to my words by moving her eyebrows. I took that to be a sign that she knew I was there, but then again, it could have been gas.
There she lay, all 60 pounds of what was left of her. Slowly starving, barely breathing. She'd been like that since just after Labor Day, and my father was falling apart, waiting for her to die.
In the four years since her birthday, my kids have grown up to be wonderful children. My marriage is much better than it was. My father is starting to move on. The sad image of her in that bed is fading, being replaced by memories of the glorious mother I remember her to be.
Happy Birthday, Mom.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Big Doin's in the Small Town
I'm putting my pre-election angst on hold for a couple of days so I can enjoy the weekend. Uber-Neighbors Tom and Wendy are hosting their second annual Pumpkin Carving party for the folks in our circle tonight. Yes, I know, no drinking until AFTER the pumpkins are carved.
After pumpkins, and after the kids go to bed, I will head over to Brother-inlaw #1's house to play poker. Normally, a poker fest lasts until well after 4am, but we're calling it quits at midnight because most of the participants (but not I, this year) will be heading off to Evanston for Family Day at Northwestern. Beloved Nephew#2 (they are all beloved nephews) has had a challenging quarter (self-inflicted, by the way), and I'm sure he's looking forward to seeing his parents, Grandpa, Uncle Dan (Brother in-law #3), etc.
(In case all my brother-inlaws are reading, your number is based on your age, not your level of favor, I've been blessed with great B-IL's)
B-IL1 and I, who work at the same company, are hoping to convince B-IL3 to join us. He'd be perfect at what we are making lots of money doing. The water is warm, so jump in.
Saturday brings haircuts for Sonny and I, followed by a football game to watch Princess do her cheerleading thing. After the game, Wifey and Wendy (of uber-neighbor fame) will visit the craft show(s) in Sycamore, home of the Pumpkin Fest.
Sunday is a luncheon for our departing priest, and then we're hosting various local relatives to watch Football until Trick or Treat time comes.
A full weekend, and I intend to enjoy it.
The following was written in full knowledge that if the Terrorists are going to do something heinous, it will be done in the next 96 hours.
After pumpkins, and after the kids go to bed, I will head over to Brother-inlaw #1's house to play poker. Normally, a poker fest lasts until well after 4am, but we're calling it quits at midnight because most of the participants (but not I, this year) will be heading off to Evanston for Family Day at Northwestern. Beloved Nephew#2 (they are all beloved nephews) has had a challenging quarter (self-inflicted, by the way), and I'm sure he's looking forward to seeing his parents, Grandpa, Uncle Dan (Brother in-law #3), etc.
(In case all my brother-inlaws are reading, your number is based on your age, not your level of favor, I've been blessed with great B-IL's)
B-IL1 and I, who work at the same company, are hoping to convince B-IL3 to join us. He'd be perfect at what we are making lots of money doing. The water is warm, so jump in.
Saturday brings haircuts for Sonny and I, followed by a football game to watch Princess do her cheerleading thing. After the game, Wifey and Wendy (of uber-neighbor fame) will visit the craft show(s) in Sycamore, home of the Pumpkin Fest.
Sunday is a luncheon for our departing priest, and then we're hosting various local relatives to watch Football until Trick or Treat time comes.
A full weekend, and I intend to enjoy it.
The following was written in full knowledge that if the Terrorists are going to do something heinous, it will be done in the next 96 hours.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
One More Week!
Rhetoric is a shit sandwich.
My fervent hope is that the election results in a landslide for either candidate. I'm tired.
Vote.
And then stop your bitching. Deal with it. We're all in this together.
My fervent hope is that the election results in a landslide for either candidate. I'm tired.
Vote.
And then stop your bitching. Deal with it. We're all in this together.
Friday, September 24, 2004
When inspiration hits...
I have to leave in 10 minutes to train developmentally disabled adults how to operate fire extinguishers (which is another posting entirely). I just read another wonderful post by flea at One Good Thing (www.buggydoo.blogspot.com) and am now inspired to write a quick couch-disposal story.
When my wife and I got married, 90% of the furniture we owned was hand-me-down or otherwise second (or third) hand. We did buy a new bedroom suite from Sears (not wanting to start our married life in debt, we bought a cheap set) . About a year into our marriage, we decided to take the plunge inot living room furnishings by purchasing a sofa and love seat set.
The set was blue and puffy. It was hard to move in and out of the apartment, townhouse, and two homes we've lived in since 1989. The sofa had reclining capabilities on each end, which made it great place to sit, but very heavy to move. It wore very well through 2 kids and 2 dogs, various illnesses, and all of the moves. It still was a great place to sit or lay down, but it's bulky design really overwhelmed our living room.
This year, after 14 years of service, we decided to buy a new sofa and loveseat. My small thrifty side hates to part with possessions that are still functional and in good condition, but the set was too heavy to try to take it downstairs, and we just needed a change. To dispose of "old blue", we hauled the set to my in-laws garage sale (Thanks, good neighbor Tom) and priced it to sell. I had no intention of taking it back home. In fact, I joked about hauling it into the alley and setting it ablaze if no one purchased it.
A young woman came to the garage sale and marvelled at the set. She called her husband and told him about our rock bottom price. She was so happy to get the OK to plunk down $85 for both pieces.
As she left, she said "I am so happy! My old set is falling apart, it's really junky. We've had it for FOURTEEN YEARS".
It's amazing how 14 years can be lived. Whether it be pride of ownership, or just plain overprotectiveness, we managed to keep our first sofa set in good condition throughout the years. I'll be thrilled to get 14 years out of the new set.
When my wife and I got married, 90% of the furniture we owned was hand-me-down or otherwise second (or third) hand. We did buy a new bedroom suite from Sears (not wanting to start our married life in debt, we bought a cheap set) . About a year into our marriage, we decided to take the plunge inot living room furnishings by purchasing a sofa and love seat set.
The set was blue and puffy. It was hard to move in and out of the apartment, townhouse, and two homes we've lived in since 1989. The sofa had reclining capabilities on each end, which made it great place to sit, but very heavy to move. It wore very well through 2 kids and 2 dogs, various illnesses, and all of the moves. It still was a great place to sit or lay down, but it's bulky design really overwhelmed our living room.
This year, after 14 years of service, we decided to buy a new sofa and loveseat. My small thrifty side hates to part with possessions that are still functional and in good condition, but the set was too heavy to try to take it downstairs, and we just needed a change. To dispose of "old blue", we hauled the set to my in-laws garage sale (Thanks, good neighbor Tom) and priced it to sell. I had no intention of taking it back home. In fact, I joked about hauling it into the alley and setting it ablaze if no one purchased it.
A young woman came to the garage sale and marvelled at the set. She called her husband and told him about our rock bottom price. She was so happy to get the OK to plunk down $85 for both pieces.
As she left, she said "I am so happy! My old set is falling apart, it's really junky. We've had it for FOURTEEN YEARS".
It's amazing how 14 years can be lived. Whether it be pride of ownership, or just plain overprotectiveness, we managed to keep our first sofa set in good condition throughout the years. I'll be thrilled to get 14 years out of the new set.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Yeah, Sure
Note to Dan Rather: Anyone can say "I'm sorry"; but it takes a real man (or journalist, or whatever) to say, "Mr President, I'm sorry".
I am an equal opportunity critic:
Listening to Mr Bush defend his war policies yesterday, he quoted Mr Kerry's position several times. After each quote, the audience made huge gasps, sighs, and other over-the-top groans to show their disdain of Mr Kerry's position. Enough of the groaning...it make you appear "lambish". It's like those girls at the People's Choice Awards (I wish they'd call me. Lyle Lovett should win one of those awards, and then not show up to accept it) who shriek when a cutie pie actor walks on stage.
Remember the RINO's? Republican in Name Only's? The only thing worse than that are the Knee-jerk Republicans that blindly support whoever runs as a Republican (yes this is a vailed shot at the Keyes supporters out there).
Meanwhile, our Governor just destroyed the state education board (yippee) only to replace it with his lackeys (not-so-much yippee).
Note to Al-Queda: Take the masks off and behead your captives like real men. Schmucks.
(I changed my post to read "Schmucks" instead of a more crude perjorative. My mother would not appreciate my use of the original word.)
I am an equal opportunity critic:
Listening to Mr Bush defend his war policies yesterday, he quoted Mr Kerry's position several times. After each quote, the audience made huge gasps, sighs, and other over-the-top groans to show their disdain of Mr Kerry's position. Enough of the groaning...it make you appear "lambish". It's like those girls at the People's Choice Awards (I wish they'd call me. Lyle Lovett should win one of those awards, and then not show up to accept it) who shriek when a cutie pie actor walks on stage.
Remember the RINO's? Republican in Name Only's? The only thing worse than that are the Knee-jerk Republicans that blindly support whoever runs as a Republican (yes this is a vailed shot at the Keyes supporters out there).
Meanwhile, our Governor just destroyed the state education board (yippee) only to replace it with his lackeys (not-so-much yippee).
Note to Al-Queda: Take the masks off and behead your captives like real men. Schmucks.
(I changed my post to read "Schmucks" instead of a more crude perjorative. My mother would not appreciate my use of the original word.)
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Longtime, no hear
I received a new laptop at work, and it has taken about a month to get all the bugs out. So after a 4 weeek hiatus, I've returned to the 'blogwaves, ready to rant.
In the wake of the Jack Ryan near-sex scandal (where he didn't have any sex to be scandalous about, he only wanted to have scandalous sex), Republicans in Illinois could not find anyone with enough stones to run against the Undefeatable Barack Obama. I offered, but no one would respond to my e-mails. The state party leadership looked high and low, and higher and lower, and decided to ask Alan Keyes, erstwhile presidential candidate and radio talk show host from Maryland, if he would run for senate in Illinois. Forgetting, of course, that Alan Keyes took Hillary Clinton to task for "carpetbagging" in New York in 2000.
I guess the state party muckety mucks thought that if they ran an African-American candidate against Obama (who is an actual African American - his father was born on the continent and his mother is from the US) it might confuse all the Democratic voters--or at least take race out of the race. The strategy was simple: Expose Obama's extreme positions with a candidate with a conservative pedigree.
This strategy has failed because as it turns out, Mr. Keyes' positions on many campaign issues are even more extreme that Mr. Obama's! One of the first topics that Keyes threw out for consideration was slave reparations...I guess to challange Obama's "street cred". The problem is that Obama is not the descendant of former slaves (see note above) so he doesn't have a dog in the fight. Slavery was heinous...who can argue that? Mr. Keyes said that an income tax moritorium on slave descendants wouldn't cost the taxpayers any money. A rather short-sighted position, given that in order to make up for the taxes not paid by slave descendants, more taxes would have to be paid by others...costing something to the remaining tax payers. And who would pay the extra taxes? Probably the wealthy Republicans that Keyes is trying to represent.
Keyes has moved his campaign toward the far, far, far right--espousing theories about divine retribution against gay marriage, abortion, sidewalk spitting, and failure to use turn signals. We have yet to hear him address the issues that are important to flyover Illinoisans -- namely taxes, jobs, education, and domestic security.
It is nice to have "big thoughts" about morality and spirituality, but Maslow tells us that we need to address lower pyramid ideas first. Thanks to the economy and terrorism, our state (and our country) can no longer afford to focus on high-minded ideals. We need to work, eat, and have a safe place to live. Show me a candidate who will address these issues, and that candidate will earn my vote.
In the wake of the Jack Ryan near-sex scandal (where he didn't have any sex to be scandalous about, he only wanted to have scandalous sex), Republicans in Illinois could not find anyone with enough stones to run against the Undefeatable Barack Obama. I offered, but no one would respond to my e-mails. The state party leadership looked high and low, and higher and lower, and decided to ask Alan Keyes, erstwhile presidential candidate and radio talk show host from Maryland, if he would run for senate in Illinois. Forgetting, of course, that Alan Keyes took Hillary Clinton to task for "carpetbagging" in New York in 2000.
I guess the state party muckety mucks thought that if they ran an African-American candidate against Obama (who is an actual African American - his father was born on the continent and his mother is from the US) it might confuse all the Democratic voters--or at least take race out of the race. The strategy was simple: Expose Obama's extreme positions with a candidate with a conservative pedigree.
This strategy has failed because as it turns out, Mr. Keyes' positions on many campaign issues are even more extreme that Mr. Obama's! One of the first topics that Keyes threw out for consideration was slave reparations...I guess to challange Obama's "street cred". The problem is that Obama is not the descendant of former slaves (see note above) so he doesn't have a dog in the fight. Slavery was heinous...who can argue that? Mr. Keyes said that an income tax moritorium on slave descendants wouldn't cost the taxpayers any money. A rather short-sighted position, given that in order to make up for the taxes not paid by slave descendants, more taxes would have to be paid by others...costing something to the remaining tax payers. And who would pay the extra taxes? Probably the wealthy Republicans that Keyes is trying to represent.
Keyes has moved his campaign toward the far, far, far right--espousing theories about divine retribution against gay marriage, abortion, sidewalk spitting, and failure to use turn signals. We have yet to hear him address the issues that are important to flyover Illinoisans -- namely taxes, jobs, education, and domestic security.
It is nice to have "big thoughts" about morality and spirituality, but Maslow tells us that we need to address lower pyramid ideas first. Thanks to the economy and terrorism, our state (and our country) can no longer afford to focus on high-minded ideals. We need to work, eat, and have a safe place to live. Show me a candidate who will address these issues, and that candidate will earn my vote.
Monday, August 16, 2004
The Dog Days
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.
Our parish priest is retiring soon. He is a good man, and a friend to my family and to our community. He was with us for 5 years and managed to befriend many and tick off a few. Parish priests in our diocese are usually older, evidently young priests aspire to missionary work and the mean streets. We'll miss him.
Dad might be getting better, it's hard to tell. His galpal, who has done a great job of helping him during this time, seems to want to point fingers and assess blame for his condition. I'm more concerned on recovery than blame. My sister is taking him to a follow-up appointment tomorrow and she will ask many, many questions about what we are to expect with his recovery. He still isn't sharp, yet. I think it's time for the children to take control of his aftercare. Aftercare by committee.
Even if you are a big-time liberal, don't you think Michael Moore is just a bit over the top? If you are focusing on the "7 minutes" issue from the movie, you are missing the big picture. CRITICAL THINKING ALERT!! Hindsight is 20/20. Give me something I can work with that actually points to negligence.
Remember, 40-50,000 were supposed to be in those buildings. Whatever action plan that was or was not in place saved all but 4,000. Still a huge price to pay, but it could have been much worse. I don't see the point in politicizing the issue. If you'd like to, then consider this: how can the policies of a 250 day old administraition be 100% accountable after 8 or 12 or 20 years of bad policy and poor decision making? It seems that people are blaming the dutch boy for not putting enough fingers in the dike. (insert your own lame lesbian joke here) The holes were there already.
Coming soon to this blog: My rant on the Illinois Republican Party's negligence in convincing Alan Keyes to run for senate. ugh! And I'm a Republican.
Our parish priest is retiring soon. He is a good man, and a friend to my family and to our community. He was with us for 5 years and managed to befriend many and tick off a few. Parish priests in our diocese are usually older, evidently young priests aspire to missionary work and the mean streets. We'll miss him.
Dad might be getting better, it's hard to tell. His galpal, who has done a great job of helping him during this time, seems to want to point fingers and assess blame for his condition. I'm more concerned on recovery than blame. My sister is taking him to a follow-up appointment tomorrow and she will ask many, many questions about what we are to expect with his recovery. He still isn't sharp, yet. I think it's time for the children to take control of his aftercare. Aftercare by committee.
Even if you are a big-time liberal, don't you think Michael Moore is just a bit over the top? If you are focusing on the "7 minutes" issue from the movie, you are missing the big picture. CRITICAL THINKING ALERT!! Hindsight is 20/20. Give me something I can work with that actually points to negligence.
Remember, 40-50,000 were supposed to be in those buildings. Whatever action plan that was or was not in place saved all but 4,000. Still a huge price to pay, but it could have been much worse. I don't see the point in politicizing the issue. If you'd like to, then consider this: how can the policies of a 250 day old administraition be 100% accountable after 8 or 12 or 20 years of bad policy and poor decision making? It seems that people are blaming the dutch boy for not putting enough fingers in the dike. (insert your own lame lesbian joke here) The holes were there already.
Coming soon to this blog: My rant on the Illinois Republican Party's negligence in convincing Alan Keyes to run for senate. ugh! And I'm a Republican.
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
Autonomy and Clint Eastwood
To some extent, we all wish for the autonomy to live life on our own terms. Achieving this comes at some cost.
About 18 months ago, my widowed father decided that it was time to move from the lake house where he and my mother lived out her last days. The nearest offspring lived about 80 miles away, and the rest of us live about 200 miles away. We were hoping that my Dad would move closer to one of the kids. There are a number of reasons for this: at least one of my siblings wanted more attention, one wanted less, one probably didn't care, and I wanted convenient access in the event of illness or emergency. I'm the pragmatic one.
Well, Dad decided that he couldn't move any closer to anyone. That is his decision. He has always isolated himself from the rest of his family (nuclear and otherwise) for reasons of his own. It gives him the independence that he craves.
Since June 23, he has managed to visit most every hospital in Northern Indiana, due to a gall bladder problem. The gall bladder itself is no longer a problem, it was removed. Sadly, he is now suffering from one of those wonderful hospital-borne infections that almost took his life last week. And this is where the desire to self-isolate and be autonomous creates a problem.
A man has to know his limitations. Autonomy is wonderful if you truly don't need anyone. Perhaps his need for emotional independence obscured the reality that his health would require some family member to be nearby to help him.
My desire to be the "good son" has been hampered by geography. I want to be there for him, but I cannot. This is the worst time of year for me work-wise, and I have a family of my own that needs me, too. I had to step in to help when my Mom was dying, and it pushed my family life to the brink.
Trying to cope with not only his illness, but the kookiness of my siblings in trying to deal with the kookiness has been difficult. The important news is that he should recover in time, and is otherwise healthy for someone with his vast array of ailments. It's tough getting old.
I'd like to think that I'm the only "normal" sibling; but I suspect that is not the case. One sibling is starved for attention, the attention she thinks (and is probably right) that she deserved as a child and never received. The other sister has given up on getting any attention. Dad just won't make the effort. I call my brother "Fredo Corleone". Fredo sat on the curb and cried while his father lay on the street after being shot.
The attention-seeker has jumped in and taken charge. She is the most capable from a logistics standpoint: she does not have a job and her children are old enough to get take care of day to day issues. Sadly, she is the least capable in dealing with crises. She told me (with a straight face) when the Dr told her that my Dad may have congestive heart failure, that she "just couldn't deal with that, it would be too much to bear". Gosh, imagine how my Dad would have to deal with it. It's all about her. Her. Her.
(yes, I know this posting is all about me, me, me. But's it's MY post.)
Anyway, she will take charge, and remind everyone at every opportunity that she has. And that she will single-handedly cure my Father of all his ailments, and that no one stepped up to help her.
Perhaps know I understand why Dad has chosen his isolated life.
About 18 months ago, my widowed father decided that it was time to move from the lake house where he and my mother lived out her last days. The nearest offspring lived about 80 miles away, and the rest of us live about 200 miles away. We were hoping that my Dad would move closer to one of the kids. There are a number of reasons for this: at least one of my siblings wanted more attention, one wanted less, one probably didn't care, and I wanted convenient access in the event of illness or emergency. I'm the pragmatic one.
Well, Dad decided that he couldn't move any closer to anyone. That is his decision. He has always isolated himself from the rest of his family (nuclear and otherwise) for reasons of his own. It gives him the independence that he craves.
Since June 23, he has managed to visit most every hospital in Northern Indiana, due to a gall bladder problem. The gall bladder itself is no longer a problem, it was removed. Sadly, he is now suffering from one of those wonderful hospital-borne infections that almost took his life last week. And this is where the desire to self-isolate and be autonomous creates a problem.
A man has to know his limitations. Autonomy is wonderful if you truly don't need anyone. Perhaps his need for emotional independence obscured the reality that his health would require some family member to be nearby to help him.
My desire to be the "good son" has been hampered by geography. I want to be there for him, but I cannot. This is the worst time of year for me work-wise, and I have a family of my own that needs me, too. I had to step in to help when my Mom was dying, and it pushed my family life to the brink.
Trying to cope with not only his illness, but the kookiness of my siblings in trying to deal with the kookiness has been difficult. The important news is that he should recover in time, and is otherwise healthy for someone with his vast array of ailments. It's tough getting old.
I'd like to think that I'm the only "normal" sibling; but I suspect that is not the case. One sibling is starved for attention, the attention she thinks (and is probably right) that she deserved as a child and never received. The other sister has given up on getting any attention. Dad just won't make the effort. I call my brother "Fredo Corleone". Fredo sat on the curb and cried while his father lay on the street after being shot.
The attention-seeker has jumped in and taken charge. She is the most capable from a logistics standpoint: she does not have a job and her children are old enough to get take care of day to day issues. Sadly, she is the least capable in dealing with crises. She told me (with a straight face) when the Dr told her that my Dad may have congestive heart failure, that she "just couldn't deal with that, it would be too much to bear". Gosh, imagine how my Dad would have to deal with it. It's all about her. Her. Her.
(yes, I know this posting is all about me, me, me. But's it's MY post.)
Anyway, she will take charge, and remind everyone at every opportunity that she has. And that she will single-handedly cure my Father of all his ailments, and that no one stepped up to help her.
Perhaps know I understand why Dad has chosen his isolated life.
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