New Tricks for an Old Dog

After due consideration it seemed appropriate that I make a few cosmetic changes to my blog to more accurately represent what I do on these pages.  It also serves to modernize (I hope) the mechanisms by which you may follow my ruminations.  I have added the option to follow this blog via email subscription, and I'm pretty sure I've enabled an rss feed via Atom or possibly Google--maybe both.  Not being a full-on techno guy, and more of a do-it-yourself-er, the results remain untested for the moment.

In the meantime, you may anticipate upcoming blogs with teasers like, We've Been Here Before, my take on some of the political histrionics in the run-up to the 2012 election.  (Sigh heavily, yes, it is already that time again.).  Also on the horizon, reviews of three books:  the debut books, How Faithful A Heart, by Lynette Erwin, Law of Attraction by Allison Leotta and the latest thriller by Robert Dugoni, Murder One.

Somewhere in the midst of all this I will carve out some time to promote my own novel, due for release soon entitled Island Dawn.  Plus I may even write a short story or two to post on these pages.  Something I haven't done in some time and is quite overdue.

Take heart, readers.  There is more coming soon, I promise!

'Bodily Harm' Book Review

A government official has a horrifying and murderous encounter with a mysterious assassin in China--and gets an assignment he dares not defy.

David Sloane, dubbed by the media as 'The Lawyer Who Never Loses', is in a hurry.  He's overdue in court--where he is about to win again--but doesn't feel at ease about the likely outcome.  A grubby young man, smelling of alcohol, accosts Sloane on the streets of Seattle, forcing a slim file on him, which he contends explains why the Doctor, whose career is about to end with the verdict, isn't responsible for the death of the child of Sloane's clients.

"The doctor did not kill that boy."

Sloane stopped.  Pedestrians maneuvered to avoid him.  Walking back to the curb, Sloane saw that the man held a photocopy of an article from The Seattle Times reporting on the medical malpractice case.

"How would you know that?"  Sloane asked.

"Because I did."

With that, Robert Dugoni has set the hook deeply with his novel Bodily Harm.

The action moves with breakneck speed as the attorney that has everything go his way professionally, soon finds his personal life in wreckage as this high-octane story of desperation in lofty corporate offices becomes interwoven with money, politics, murder and government agencies.  As with previous novels by Dugoni, this work really reaches beyond the conventional thriller as he stretches his literary lead over the work of Turow and Grisham.

It's not often I feel engaged by the literary merits of a thriller.  Too often they are paint-by-the-numbers formula pieces.  Bodily Harm though, like Wrongful Death, Damage Control and The Jury Master preceding it ( and previously mentioned on the pages of this blog), have that intangible quality of plausibility to them.  While you are irresistibly turning each page to see what's next, you can well imagine how these things could actually happen.

The characters are finely drawn.  The relationships are deeply felt by this reader, and the tragedies and triumphs resonate with real emotion.  In the end as the dust is settling and David Sloane emerges victorious yet anything but unscathed, he is left with one question:  "When does it stop hurting?"

You'll have to read the book to get the answer, but you better hurry--his next, 'Murder One' is set for release in early June, and I, for one, can't wait.

Forget being the 'heir apparent' to Scott Turow or John Grisham.  Robert Dugoni has re-defined the legal thriller and is in a class by himself.  Long live the new King!

Nothing In Moderation-How To Kill the Republican Party

From time to time in these posts I comment on the state of politics as I see them.  Long-time readers know I consider myself a conservative and a Republican.  I have, however, been increasingly alarmed by a lack of common sense by the far right, and have expressed my dismay that leadership has become an oxymoronic term within the party.  Having said that, I stood by my party (though not necessarily it's candidates) until now.

It has become clear since the mid-term elections that the agenda of the conservative right-wing is to form a cabal of business titans, ambitious office seekers and ultra-conservative Christian groups to systematically disassemble most of the economic and social gains for the middle and lower class populations of the U.S. in the twentieth century.  Preying on the susceptability of one-issue, or poorly informed voters and ginning up fear tactics--while blithely ignoring their own culpability in the current economic hardships--the Republican party has begun an assault on moderation that is sure to kill it in the long run.  Given their 'druthers, many of these people would eliminate unions, pensions, Social Security, Medicare, funding for the arts and abortion anywhere, anytime, for any reason.  This is the to-do list right now, having accomplished that they will move on to reducing or eliminating taxes on business, with an emphasis on big businesses.  Bigger the business-lower the taxes.  Don't think so?  Follow this link:  Tax Holiday for Big Business?

These are not moderate, or even conservative views, really.  There is no inherent conflict between fiscal conservatism and union bargaining.  Have we forgotten the lesson of the Good Samaritan?  We can, and should do what we are able to do as individuals, but not forsake those of lesser fortune simply because they are financially inconvenient to society just now.  Issues of human rights belong in the public discourse to the extent that all humans living in the U.S. should enjoy the freedoms and protections of the Constitution, not just those that subscribe to my particular point of view.  People of good faith and conscience can agree to disagree.  That is vital to the free flow of ideas and critical to finding constructive ways forward without disenfranchising opposition.

The assault has been under way for some time.  Thirty years ago, if you intended to run as a Republican for high office you had to be vetted by the Christian right.  What was your stance on abortion?  What about gays and lesbians?  School prayer?  You better drink the Kool-Aid and sign on or you had no active chance of advancing your candidacy.  Since then the requirements have tightened into a noose.  I stand in amazement that there is no sense of irony that the only unforgivable sin is to differ in opinion.

If you were nominated to a U.S. Federal judgeship the chances were similarly bleak for advancement if you had ever ruled on, commented in public or written a term paper in school on any or all of these and other issues.  As I write this thousands of position remain unfilled, the nominees blocked without even a committee review by some Senator acting as a 'watchdog' (read:  lapdog)  for the Christian Coalition or some other lobbying group.  If it is one thing a conservative pol knows, it's which side of the bread is buttered with campaign money.

Perhaps the most distressing aspect of this onslaught has been the dogged determination not to be deterred by facts.  I have seen, read and heard more mischaracterizations, misdirections, disinformation campaigns, whispered innuendos and downright damnable lies in the last three years then in the forty or so previous years I have been watching and thinking about politics.  And that includes, Bush, Clinton and Nixon.

Right now we have a President hobbled by the notion that there is compromise out there, just waiting to be hammered out with reasonable, moderate Republicans.  Respectfully, Mr. President, you are wrong.  From the grass-roots to the Capitol Dome the offensive against reasonableness is being pushed forward by a cynical and increasingly delusional conservative party.  Consensus building and bi-partisanship are given lip service, but in truth are seen as signs of weakness to be exploited.  It is time, Sir, in the words of a famous Republican, to just say no.

So here is what I say to my former Republican brethren:  Kill the party if you must, I shall not come along.  You have thrown down the gauntlet of extremism, I shall not pick it up.  You seek to crush moderation, I shall, starting today, resist.

Things Presidential, and otherwise

It has been some time since I posted anything, Lord knows it's not for lack of topics.  The elections, the shootings, the books read, meals consumed, family visited, the working vacation to research sites in Oregon, Idaho, Wyoming and Montana, and life and the living thereof have all presented ample opportunity for blog posts.  The lack of same amounts to a mea culpa: 

1.     I've been busy.

2.     I've been lazy.

Take your pick--both apply.  But during this hiatus some thoughts have been banging around inside my skull that have finally taken adequate form to merit a posting.

It occurred to me recently, while reflecting on recent U.S. Presidents, that there has not been a Vietnam-era military general elected to the office, and further, there will not be one.  Their opportunity has passed.  The last General Officer elected to the presidency was Eisenhower.  Before that we have to go back to Benjamin Harrison and the election of 1888 to find a general-to-president election.  In all, we've had nine Chief Executives with General Officer standing prior to their political elevation.  

That notwithstanding, there have been very few presidents with no military experience at all.  Most of those were Founding Fathers, and they were a little busy with other things during the Revolutionary War.  Some, while not in the at-war military, were Secretaries of War, state Governors acting as Commander-in-Chief for state militias (later the National Guard) or served during peacetime eras.  Our current president and Andrew Johnson (a tailor by trade before becoming Vice-President to Lincoln)  have no military background or service at all.  Among presidents most have been General Officers, Governors and attorneys.  Only one had a Phd; Woodrow Wilson.  

Our military generals became presidents mostly in the 19th century.  War veterans from 1812 and the Civil War filled 7 of the 15 presidential spots between 1829 and 1893.  There were no presidents from the U.S. military general ranks from the Spanish-American war (Teddy Roosevelt barely made Colonel, but was the Under Secretary of the Navy before the war, was briefly Governor of New York, and as VP, ascended to the White House upon the assassination of McKinley.  Incidentally, it was TR that had the West Wing added to the People's House.)  There were also none from the first World War.  Blackjack Pershing was pushed to run in the 1920 election, but he demurred active campaigning with the cryptic pronouncement that he "wouldn't decline to serve" if the people wanted him.  The party opted for a more active candidate, selecting Warren G. Harding, now regarded as one of the worst presidents in U.S. history.

So what has this little presidential history lesson suggested to me?  We like to reward our war heroes (even if they weren't generals) with high political office.  In fact, until recently, it was unthinkable that a viable candidate could arise from the ranks of those with no military experience .  I think Korea started the trend away from military commanders and Vietnam essentially codified that trend.  

What do those conflicts have in common.  We didn't win.  Voters like winners.  Voters reward winners.  The Baby Boomers were the first generation to see war relatively unfiltered, and they didn't like what they saw.  Gen X was the first to see war in real-time via satellite from Iraq in Desert Storm.  They didn't like what they saw, but were careful to separate the soldier doing his duty, from the CINC sending them off to war.  Gen Next is seeing Iraq and Afghanistan the same way, but with the addition of internet feeds and blogs from active duty soldiers under fire.  Even in the face of provocation as extreme as 9-11, we don't much like what we see, but are a bit befuddled about what to do about it.  It seems to have a surreal 'we broke it, so we have to fix it' adhesive quality to it.

We won't 'win' in Iraq.  At best we will leave behind a shaky, fractured government riven with sectarian violence and likely unable-in the long term-to survive as a democracy.  We won't win in Afghanistan.  No one ever has historically.  About the best we can hope for is to do less damage when we leave than we did when we abandoned Vietnam.  The result will likely be similar.  We will pack up, declare victory, and ship out, leaving the Afghani people to their own devices.

Since the end of WWII no military conflict of significance has ended with a clear victory for the U.S.  Even Desert Storm, while a rout to be sure, seemed to be unfinished business.  Short of an all-out-conflict, which is less and less likely in this internet interconnected world, large land mass armies will become increasingly obsolete and fewer military heroes will emerge from the ranks of generals. 

The elections of Bill Clinton, George W. Bush and Barack Obama have demonstrated to me that the era of rewarding military veterans-high ranking or otherwise-has ceased to be an important yardstick in selecting our political leader.  Clinton, a little-known southern governor faced down a WWII hero from the Senate leadership and defeated Bob Dole.  John Kerry, though intellectually better prepared to be president lost to another southern governor.  Kerry, a decorated Vietnam vet was defeated as much because he was a Vietnam vet as anything else.  George jockeyed a fighter plane in the Air National Guard under the watchful eye of his highly placed father.  John McCain, a bonafide POW hero of the southeast Asian conflict had his campaign run off the rails by erratic decision making and a mortal self-inflicted wound as a running mate.  Barack Obama never served in the military and was outspoken against the war in Iraq.

In my estimation, it seems likely that a century or more may have passed before we elect another war general as President of the United States.  For now, at least, Eisenhower was the last of that breed.  New skills are needed in a new century.  But I'll leave you with some hopeful tidbits from two presidents past; one of great note who was a general officer and hero of the War of 1812, and one from perhaps the least significant presidency in our history.

“Any man worth his salt will stick up for what he believes right, but it takes a slightly better man to acknowledge instantly and without reservation that he is in error.” Andrew Jackson, 7th POTUS

“Nothing brings out the lower traits of human nature like office-seeking. Men of good character and impulses are betrayed by it into all sorts of meanness.” Millard Fillmore 12th POTUS

Duck Soup & Dead Bodies

 This is a potpourri posting of reviews for things totally unrelated, but which gave me pleasure, and by inference, may give you pleasure as well, should you choose to partake of any of the opportunities described herein.

Food

Persistence pays.  I have been advocating for duck pho on the menu at Soy House for a long time, and my persistence has come to fruition, sort of.  After weeks of tinkering with the recipe, they finally introduced it to the menu.  As their unique and delicious pizza was in the beginning, this item is an 'experiment', for now.  You need to ask for it, and it isn't available every day--yet.  I suggested they make a Facebook post on days it is on the menu, and trust me, you will want to try this.  This pho, like all of their soup offerings begins with it's own broth.  Most restaurants (including a lot of very pricey haute cuisine joints that should know better)  use a 'base' as a short-cut for broth or stock.  Imagine that little bullion cube from the red or green can on steroids and you get the idea.  Not so at Soy House.  I have actually seen  roasted bones heading for the stock pot for the beef pho, and each broth is carefully constructed for fabulous flavor to enhance the principal ingredient in a given dish.  This duck is delish, full of rich but nuanced flavor.  Served on the side is fresh lime, jalapeno slices, mung bean sprouts and leaf lettuce (instead of Thai basil, which isn't really suited to this soup). Made with your choice of rice or egg noodles (get the egg noodles, they work with the flavor profiles better) this is a must-try for lovers of pho.

Now, let's take a moment to ponder the humble duck, and dispel a couple of the myths surrounding the eating of same:

1.  Duck is gamey.

     WILD duck can be a little-or even a lot-gamey, but farm-raised duck is just a rich tasting dark poultry meat.  It can, and should, be served medium rare when prepared as a grilled duck breast, something you dare not do with chicken.  But grilled, smoked, marinated or roasted, it opens up your taste buds to a bevy of palate pleasing classics of cuisine.  Don't be afraid, embrace your adventurous tendencies.  Order the duck-forget the veal.

2.  Duck is fatty.

      The muscle meat of duck is nearly fat-free.  Ducks and geese reserve almost all of their fat in their skin, which is what makes rendering out the fat possible, and yields--when done correctly--a fabulous taste, and far less fat and calories than the generic burger and fries you have no problem pounding down for a quick lunch.  What little fat remains become about the best flavor-transport mechanism every designed by nature.  Eat the skin, it's tasty!

Their innovative Vietnamese influenced pizza made it to the regular menu (read my review in an earlier post Mason Jar Madness ) after a long introduction period, and I remain hopeful the same will be true for the duck pho.  Asian cusine without duck somewhere on the menu is like BBQ without ribs.  You can do it, but something important is missing.

FILM

'RED' is entirely implausible and predictable to a fault, and yet it has an irresistible element of big explosion, high body count, wry comedy and an almost believable May-September romance element to it that I found fun.  Bear in mind, this will not be laden with statuette nominations from the Academy, nor will it get much notice from snooty reviewers, but people of a certain age and gender (male boomers, for instance) will not feel cheated.  There is lots of Wile E. Coyote v Roadrunner violence, just enough CG to be entertaining and a star-studded passel of cast members with their tongues planted firmly in their cheeks while delivering their lines.  The locations are interesting enough, mostly edited in from second-unit-no-principals-in-sight footage, and enough shell casings are scattered to keep an armorer reloading for about five years.  This is 'Space Cowboys' recast in CIA garb.  Great movie making?  Not so much.  A lot of fun for men of a certain age (and the women who love them)?  You bet.  It was for me, anyway.

Fatalities  (ok, I couldn't come up with a decent alliterative for the last book I read, so sue me.)

Damage Control by Robert Dugoni.  Bob is quickly becoming one of my favorite contemporary authors.  Mostly writing legal thrillers, his characters and situations--while sensational and intense, as a thriller should be--also have a ring of truth to them.  Dialogue is natural, plot lines flow evenly, leading to a crescendo of action with a finely crafted resolution leaving the reader fulfilled.  This is not an easy task, so as a writer myself, when I encounter it, I particularly enjoy quality .
Damage Control is Dugoni's second book of fiction and yes, yours truly, ever behind the curve, is commenting on a book published four years ago.  There are two reasons for this:  One, I opted to start at the beginning of his series when I gave a brief thumbs up to Jury Master in an earlier post, Reading to write right, right?  I met Bob at a book signing and writer's discussion sponsored by the Pacific Northwest Writers Association, to which we both belong.  He was signing his latest, Wrongful Death, (a shiny new copy of which awaits my attention) and I was a boy on a budget, so it was paperback for me.
Two, I wanted to try reading a thriller on my new Nook e-reader, and again, being on a budget it was the perfect choice.  $7.99 for the download, forever available to me, and not an inch of already groaning bookshelf space occupied.  I finished the last hundred pages of the book during a two-hour back up at the Canadian border waiting to get back into the U.S.  I won't spend any time recounting plot details or characters, that was done by the NY Times years ago, I'll just say I was fully engaged by the book, enjoyed it for what it was--a diverting drama full of the requisite protagonists in peril, dead bodies piling up and mischief and malfeasance in high places.  It was a great read and, after all, isn't that what most writers hope for when they put their babies out for the world?  Thanks, Bob.  Keep 'em coming.

       

Why Liberals Fail

After the primary a few weeks ago I was chatting with a liberal friend about the post-election washout of candidates.  I imagined out loud that since her candidate had not advanced, she would be supporting the Democratic candidate that had moved on to the general election.

"No," was the firm reply.  "He voted to fund the war [in Iraq & Afghanistan].  I can't support that.  I have to vote my conscience.  I am for peace, I will write in the name of my [failed] candidate, and vote for him."

"So," I said, "you will cast a ballot that indirectly favors the candidate whose party started the war under false pretenses.  The party that offered no apology or even reasonable excuse for same, whose executive leadership created a torture camp in Cuba and under whose lack of supervision crashed the most vital economy in the world?"

"I have to vote my conscience."  End of discussion.

This is why liberals fail.  It is a political truism that liberals fall in love; conservatives fall in line.  My friend has fallen in love with the candidate and been blinded to the forest by a single tree.  This phenomenon has had many names over the political years:  Peace & Freedom, Green, Progressives, the Mary Janes and others of a similar splinter mentality.  They, and others like them, succumb to the siren song of the 'protest vote', somehow imagining that those votes will be seen with all seriousness in Washington or at the state and local level at least.  They are correct in one assumption:  They will be seen all right, and promptly dismissed as a constituency that can, and will, be ignored.

As a group, liberals have an astonishingly short collective memory.  Only one election cycle ago the most diverse group of voters in my living history accomplished what many believed impossible; they elected an avowed liberal black man to the Presidency of the United States of America.  With him they swept into power a huge Congressional majority of Dems and between them--in spite of fierce and almost unanimous opposition from Republicans--managed to enact some of the most important fiscal and social legislation in half a century.

But, alas, Barack Obama proved to be human.  He didn't march into office and sweep away 220 years of political bickering with a single blow.  Don't Ask-Don't Tell still lingers, as do dozens of left and far left honey-dos.  The agenda is incomplete and you are an impatient and fickle crowd.  You liberals have lost your understanding of the power of incremental-ism.  Like children, you want it all now, or you will sulk in your room.

Republicans are counting on this.  The RNC is collecting and spending hundreds of millions of dollars on candidates, that in any other cycle, wouldn't merit a one line obit buried deep in the political pages.  They hold their noses, open their checkbooks and fall in line.  Most of the mainstream Republicans seeking election, or re-election, are espousing views they cynically don't believe themselves, in order to appeal to a general anxiety amongst the electorate.

And you are letting it happen.  You are so busy feeling sorry for yourself that the entire country isn't on board with your goals, that you have fallen into a malaise, that in just a few weeks, threatens to undo what you worked so hard to achieve.  If you are disillusioned and frustrated now, imagine how eviscerated you will feel when a cadre of elected representatives come into power that have the avowed goals of re-instituting school prayer, rolling back abortion rights, eliminating Social Security and Medicare, trying to deport millions of undocumented aliens and expanding tax cuts and deregulation to the wealthiest companies and individuals in the country. Don't be misled, these are the central tenants of their governing philosophy.

As a moderate Republican, sidelined by my own party, I find myself watching this slow-motion train wreck in the liberal wing with horror.  Oddly, the best hope I, and millions of center-righters like me, have of regaining the reigns of a GOP careening madly out of control to the reactionary right, is a united liberal front.  If you throw up your hands and walk away from the process it may be two generations before equilibrium can be restored, and reclaiming sanity in governance likely won't return in my lifetime.

Think about this; after the dust has settled from the upcoming election, states will begin the process of reapportionment and redistricting.  It is a little-understood, but critically important, constitutional process that affects the makeup of the House of Representatives and subsequently influences elections not just for ten years, till the next census, but for a generation or more, as Members become the ruling class, and re-election becomes a foregone conclusion for 90% of those running.

I'm trying to regain control of my party one blog at a time, but liberals, I need your help.  Don't screw this up, get out the vote.

Moderate Republicans and Independents are counting on you.

Ironic, no?

I have been absent from this blog for some time now.  Not from lack of material, or even desire, but initially from a balky computer which was finally retired and replaced, and lately as the result of pressing family considerations.  I don't, as a general rule, do a lot of writing about personal matters on these pages, though I do see fit from time to time to make an exception.  This is one of those occasions.  

On September 7th my father-in-law was called home from the frailties of this corporeal life.  While at 93 years of age and having suffered a broken hip barely a month before, his release was not wholly unexpected, it was nonetheless an occasion of great loss for the family and friends who had the privilege of knowing Jack Brown.  For those who are interested in a description of the ceremony honoring Jack, please follow this link, http://notdrowninganymore.blogspot.com/2010/09/life-remembered.html 
to my son's blog.  It has been requested by some that I post my remarks for the occasion.  To honor Jack's memory, my comments are posted below.

I met Nancy on a December 12^th.  I had been invited to a holiday party by a business associate.  We arriving unannounced at her home, I was tagging along with her date for the evening.  Unannounced, because we all lived in Central California, where in the winter if three people sneezed simultaneously while it was raining the power or the phones went out.  In this case it was the phones.  For you younger folks, this was before the internet & personal computers, phones still had cords, and the keypads only had numbers and no color touch screens or cameras.

Our first official date was on December 17^th, and on December 19^th I put her and her three children on the train in San Jose, ultimately headed for Florence, Oregon where they would spend Christmas with her parents, Jack and Dorothy.  They returned December 29^th.  By the second week in January we were engaged to be married, scheduled for late June.  That was nearly 28 years ago.   

I tell you that story so I can tell you this one.  In mid-February Omi and Opa as they are affectionately known, contrived the flimsy pretense of bringing a used sofa to their daughter.  Of course, it made perfect sense, drive nearly 1,300 miles round trip in the dead of winter to deliver a piece of furniture that $50 would have purchased locally.

Although they never admitted it, I’ve long suspected that a thorough inspection of this son-in-law in waiting, that had so completely swept their daughter off her feet, was the true object of this odyssey.

By any measure, Jack Brown was a big man.  6’5” tall, size 14 feet, that gravelly, baritone voice, firm handshake and welcoming hug.  I was more than a little nervous, I’ll admit, but as we talked, I discovered he had a way of putting people at ease.  We shared interests in baseball and fishing.  We could talk about politics from differing points of view without rancor.  He listened thoughtfully; spoke respectfully with someone less than half his age.  He laughed at my jokes.  A deep, rumbling laugh that revealed his great sense of humor:  And finally, he asked the question, ‘Do you love my daughter?’

I told him the truth-then and now; ‘Yes, I do; with every beat of my heart.’

We sat silently for a while as he contemplated.  Finally he said, ‘Then welcome to the family, son.’  It was that simple.  He took me at my word, gave me the benefit of the doubt, and just like that I was swept into this remarkable family.

I'm a small-town, conservative, adoptee from Idaho, mostly self-educated being embraced by a liberal, college educated California family.  I owned guns, they owned ukuleles.  My genetic family consisted of a few names on a sheet of paper yellow with age.  Their family history can be traced back centuries to the clan McDougal in Scotland.  But the patriarch, with a firm handshake and a six word sentence invited me into the warp and weft of the tapestry of his family-my family.

Over these years it has been my great privilege to know Jack Brown. His generosity, his wise counsel, his unconditional love and affection and most of all his leadership by example will be sorely missed.  Ever the educator, he taught me that the stature of a man isn’t measured in feet and inches, but in tolerance and forbearance, grace and kindness, and courage and respect.  Jack is standing tall in the presence of God now, and with his permission I’ll close with this:

Rewarded in Heaven is Jack.

Kudos from life, he’ll not lack.

For a goodly long time,

He enjoyed a good rhyme,

And now, he’ll be watching our back.

It should be noted that Jack was famous for his limericks, sometimes composed on the spot, and always displaying his humor and affection for the target of his poetry.  In many ways he was the father I yearned for at an intellectual level.  Intelligent, thoughtful and conversant with the diversities and dilemmas of life, and always ready to lend an ear (if you spoke loud enough) and offer his advice when asked.

I will miss much, but most of all his unconditional love and affection for everyone he could touch in his remarkable life.  Fare thee well, Dad.

Techno Blues

For the last month I have been dealing with technologically fatal problems with my old computer.  After a great gnashing of teeth, and a considerable financial expenditure, this problem should resolve itself by the end of this week.  My new computer should be up and running with mind-numbing speed (far outstripping my capacity to utilize same) and I should be back in the rumination business forthwith.

It's not that I haven't had anything to say, I just lacked the ability to make the posts.  Thanks to all my faithful, and casual, followers for your patience.  I'll be back soon.

Warts And All

Last night I watched an awards show.  Not a glitzy Hollywood production (although there is a tragic connection to that fabled city of dreams), but a PBS presentation of the Library of Congress Gershwin Prize for Popular Songwriting.

Onstage, Sir Paul McCartney-son of a midwife and jazz musician-from humble beginnings in Liverpool, England became the third recipient of a prize named for the Brooklyn-born son of Russian -Jewish emigrants who fled pogroms in their homeland for the promise of a new chance in America.

George died tragically young-at the height of his compositional powers and popularity-from a brain tumor, in Hollywood at the Cedars-Sinai Hospital on Fountain Boulevard.  He was thirty seven years old.

Stevie Wonder-second winner of the prize last year-was born blind in Saginaw, Michigan-the product of a broken home in a racially charged era.  He performed 'Ebony & Ivory' with Sir Paul, who had written the song as a duet specifically for the two of them.

The evening was filled with high profile musicians performing McCartney's songs, him singing a few of his own, and even Jerry Seinfeld poking some gentle (and very funny) ribs.

All-in-all, it was very entertaining, and the sort of thing that makes me think about who we are and what we have become as Americans.  And how far we have yet to go to perfect this union.

Imagine, the first bi-racial President of the United States, presenting an Englishman with the most prestigious popular music award America has to offer.  An award named for a Russian Jew, George (and his lyricist brother, Ira) children of an immigrant family.    Onstage was the blind boy from Saginaw with family roots in slavery in Dixie.  

The first honoree was the Newark-born son of Hungarian immigrants.  His name is Paul Simon.

We have come so far, yet the road is longer still.  The immigration debate will go forward, let's hope the policies to come don't lead us to a darker past, best left to the dustbin of history.

Still though, last night I was reminded again just how great it is to be an American.  Warts and all.

I'm sorry, so sorry....

...are the opening lyrics to a classic country-western song, and express my sentiments for the lengthy delay since my last posting.

 In my defense, I have been crazy busy in the month of July, and August looks pretty jammed too, but I will have more pithy-ness in the future, I promise.  As soon as I finish repair projects, editing projects, video projects, and a performance doing the announcing and foley (sound effects) in a re-creation of an old radio drama.

 Then in August, I get really busy.