This horde of goofs…

Obviously, Ellen and Reid can go their way on all things with a clear conscience. They already do, and they don’t need their old man for that. Still, there’s nothing wrong with prodding them toward a little humanity in all things, unlike the dug-in stonewallers in Washington, D.C. Humanity starts at home.

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March 4, 2013

Ellen/Reid: I’m not sure what to think about all this sequester stuff. It’s just deflating. When I was younger, in fact even not that many years ago, at least both sides could belly up to the compromise table and get something done. I think they had the benefit of the larger populace in mind. Now it all seems to be governed by party affiliation. Way too much posturing and PR. Personally, I think the Republicans are the worse for it. They are just so mean spirited – guns, health care, gutting public education, clinging to social issues that have no bearing on jobs or productivity, hammering down on immigrants who only want a better life, etc. I’m all for fiscal responsibility and the like, but holy smokes. Amazing they are based on the party of Lincoln, the author of the Emancipation Proclamation.

Page four of the Emancipation Proclamation. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s even worse down here. The GOP in North Carolina is just a bunch of zealots. They swung into power and they are making the most of it. In only one example, the state’s legal authorities have said that a class of immigrants can drive and should be issued licenses, but in their wisdom, the creeps in Raleigh have decreed that the licenses for these new drivers will be pink and carry such wording as “No legal status.” Pretty soon they’ll push through fracking for what is, at best, a few years of natural gas but at great risk of polluting our ground water. They are just a bunch of redneck nuts. A gracious, caring Lord must be turning the other way as he watches this horde of goofs. We get what we deserve.  And trust me, we are getting it but good.

On with life…

A dichotomy was at work within the family in the last week.  It turns out both are celebrations of differing times of life.

My uncle, Henry Andersen, a renown Presbyterian minister and one of those uncles that you could really get to like, passed away on Labor Day.  This coming weekend his children and other relatives, admirers and past congregants gather in Portland, Oregon to celebrate Hank and all that he meant to whole generations of people.

Then there’s Emma.  The celebration around this little wonder started in May and shows no signs of stopping yet.

Emma is ready and rarin’ to go the Minnesota State Fair with mom and dad.

She giggles at peek-a-boo, tries ever so hard to talk, and is a jolt of household energy (even if she insists on playtime during Ellen’s supposed off-hours between midnight and 5 a.m.).

One dedicated, fruitful life of service draws to a close while another enters the fifth month of her new adventure.  Getting on with life, it seems.

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Ellen and Reid probably opened envelopes with this letter over the weekend:

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September 4, 2012

Ellen/Reid: It’s tough deal with my uncle Henry but in other ways a good thing in that whatever suffering he experienced was over.  He was just a plain and simple good guy.  Lived his life as he preached it.  You would suppose that might make things easier for his family but it never is.  He was always fair and decent and we always seemed to get along pretty well.  It is amazing how fast things can turn; healthy and vibrant one moment, then the precipitous fall.  But Tom said things were peaceful at the end.  Henry had been under hospice care for only four days, and in some ways that is a blessing.  Even in his state, Henry was insistent on coming down to see both your grandparents in their failing moments.  Your uncle and I will go to Portland.  I will head out Thursday the 13^th.  Not sure when Ralph will make it.  Probably about that time, too.  Mary was an absolute rock through all of this.  She handled it very gracefully and was a pillar of strength.  I’m glad you both had a chance to experience Henry in the last couple of years.

The Democratic convention is in town.  As much as I’d like to get downtown (or Uptown as the locals call it) for some of the action I will more than likely stay at home and watch on TV and read the paper.  That’s a little too much activity for this guy not to mention all the security.  We walked the golf course yesterday and saw the big military grade helicopters doing their thing very close to the course.  Some sort of dress rehearsal.  I like that the convention is here; good for the city and state although the GOP’s self-described “attack” troops are in town, too.  It’s a good thing they don’t call them “Truth Squads” since that would be stretching it a bit.

Reid, I’d go with your mom’s Calphalon.  That is pretty good cookware and will more than get you and Liz by in your squeezed little space.  You have to be able to cook and every meal in will save you money and increase your together time by that much more.  Food prep is a fairly social time and there’s nothing wrong with that.  We rode to breakfast yesterday morning to a little dive across the border in South Carolina, and there was a table of adults and kids a few feet away.  Three of the adults and two of the kids were on their mobile devices.  It’s whack if you ask me.  The art of conversation takes a nose dive when you see that happening – but Felicia and I both check our ‘smart’ phones when we’re out.

I’m going in tonight to an after-hours orthopedic place to get my right elbow checked out.  It just hasn’t been right since it got smacked in Wyoming and continues to be puffy and very sore.  They may have to drain it.  It’s hard to place my elbow on a table, it is that sore.  I don’t know what the hell happened.  I didn’t realize backpacking was such a contact sport.  We went to a post-Bridger reunion the other night with Tom and Richard and it was great seeing all the photos and reliving the perilous moments (i.e. eating overcooked or distinctly non-flavorful food, blisters and other assorted ow-ies, etc.).

Ellen, I love how Emma is displaying her personality.  She is going to be a handful.  She is working so hard to talk.  Once she finds her vocabulary, her babbling will be non-stop so watch out.  Nothing wrong with that, however.  I’ll have to change my screensaver with one of the new updated shots of her smiling and trying to talk.  Wish I could see the little charmer more often.

Okay, enough already.  Keep the text messages coming, and the photos, too.  Reid, send me some solid dates for Christmas, and I will get your ticket.  Just don’t’ expect it to be First Class.

The line is drawn, however, on environmental issues…

Rarely is anything ever written on these pages with an overt political bend.  How the kids ultimately vote or who they side with is their business.

For the record, I am a centrist Democrat who does think Obama has gotten the wrong end of credit for the current economic lethargy.  My preference is to pay attention to Warren Buffett‘s economic opinions given that his brain power is considerably more than my own.  Considerably more as in light-years more.  (I’d love for him to answer the question “For each year in the economic doldrums, how many years does it take to recover?”  If he wants to, he can figure in the prior eight years of economic malfeasance of the then-in-power party.)

The line is drawn, however, on environmental issues.  The climate deniers and coal junkies and those who look the other way at environmental indiscretions (for the sake of “jobs”, don’t you know) are selling out the long term for no assurance of short term gains on any front – jobs, energy independence, etc.  When you have a spare moment, Google Pinedale, Wyoming and smog.  Case in point.

So it is that every so often I will remind Ellen and Reid that it is our collective responsibility to the Emma’s and the generations to come to be, to quote the venerable Successful Farming magazine from a couple of decades ago,  good “stewards of the land.”

While I care much about those things that have people out of work or fetter businesses, when it comes to preserving our chunk of space, there can be no compromise.  Protect it now or lose it.  Sure, I have only one vote, but those who run afoul of securing our earthly future won’t get it.

Here is last week’s letter to my two.

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August 13, 2012

Ellen/Reid: Reid, it’s great having you home on this side of the pond.  Not that your British hosts were not ever so gracious, but it’s always nice to be back in the friendly confines.  Now London can get back to its normal drab self with the Olympics gone and foreigners heading to the airports.  Their rain can return too.  You came back just in time for a mean-spirited and divisive political campaign.  Politics as usual.

The Observer ran a small editorial from me last week about while I agree with the GOP on certain issues there is steadfast reluctance to vote Republican as long as the polarizing nitwits continue backsliding on environmental issues, but so far there have been no rebuttals.  That means everyone agreed or they thought it was too mundane and inconsequential.  Probably the latter.  Mundane and inconsequential are my specialties.  Jeez, if we can’t protect what we have for the Emma’s and subsequent other grandchildren out there, what will we protect?  It only figures that since so many GOPers are science deniers as well as public school doubters, we’ll have to school ‘em all over again.  Oh, to be the teacher with a ruler in his/her hands to whack ‘em on the knuckles, or, better yet, upside the head.

Reid, I am okay with you and Liz cohabitating.  Some time ago there was an article about how the vast majority of couples test those waters, and that seems fine enough.  I can’t think of any particular doctrines you are violating.  Just be sure you keep up your end of the bathroom and kitchen cleaning and you’ll be all right.  Those are lines that can’t be crossed.  Liz’ standards will become your new standards.  It will be a wholly new experience but that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

My ribs are well on the road to recovery.  Sleeping is easier now.  Sitting for extended periods is a bit of an issue but my guess is another 10 days and things will be back to normal.  I walked 18 holes yesterday pushing my cart and am no worse for wear.  I milked the woe-is-me rib malady to the hilt with Felicia but she’s wising up to that ruse now.  It was good there for a little while when it came to fetching another cup of coffee or retrieving a beer.

I laughed out loud at the shot of Emma sacked out on your laps on the plane home from Michigan.  You have to hand it to the girl, she can sleep anywhere at any time.  It’s a gift.  We should all be so lucky.  Can’t wait to see her again.  On that point, what are holiday plans for you guys?  The door is always open here in NC – hint, hint – but will understand if you have other plans since there are forces other than me tugging at your shirttails, too.

If you do venture down here, it would give me enough time to replace the air conditioner.  It went down for the count on Friday, and there has been no call from the repair company.  I’m afraid a whole new unit is in order.  The old beast was a contractor grade unit, meaning it was not top-of-the-line, and it had likely reached the end of its useful life.  So the fans in the condo are on full trying to circulate the warm air.  Knock on wood, but to this point the temperatures haven’t been totally unbearable.  The units on either side of my place have some insulating value and I’ve keep the shades down.  Ellen, you and Tim added a bathroom, kitchen and master suite, and I’ll keep pace with a new air conditioner.  When it’s on, it will be cranked down all the way to mark its debut.

Okay, I’m outta time and outta here.  Glad you’re back Reid, and Ellen, keep the videos and photos of Emma coming this way.  Adds spice to my otherwise drab existence.

Far removed from travel…

Henry gets an early morning hug and goodbye from Ellen before she heads to her teaching job. Ellen and Tim are in the midst of a bathroom addition before the arrival of their little one.

We have returned from Santa Fe no worse for the wear.  Ellen and Reid will read all about it in the next couple of days as it is a substantial part of the letter to them to be mailed later today.  Here’s hoping the note arrives at Reid’s place before he hops a jet to India for a couple of weeks of international adventure.

I’m no travel writer by any stretch, but Santa Fe is a worthwhile place for a long weekend if you like turquoise and mountains, good food and good drink (all of which we consumed in quantity).  Felicia and I did the touristy things that out-of-staters are expected to do but we managed to push the envelope in a couple of other interesting ways related to the outdoor life.

Last week’s letter to Ellen and Reid, however, is far removed from travel.  It touched a lot of different bases closer to home.

Here is that letter.

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February 6, 2012

Ellen/Reid: By this time next week we’ll have been to Santa Fe and back.  Looking forward to it.  Why someone would opt to go to a winter destination in the winter is a failing on my part.  If we were skiers it would be one thing but we’re not.  It’ll be okay I guess.  There’s something to getting on the plane and into your seat and simply getting out of town that is good.  My camera is on the fritz so don’t expect too many photos.  Maybe a cell phone pic now and then.  Reid, we still need your itinerary.

You can’t believe all the GOP vitriol that is going on down here.  Honestly, and it can’t be stated any other way, they have become the party of hatred and intolerance.  I’m fine with job growth and green business and the like and might even be tempted to vote for a Republican now and again who even half way engaged in civil discourse, but holy smokes if you could read the paper down here (as for watching Fox Faux News, no) you’d see the tonal quality of the right wing is darn near nuclear.  I’m half intent on writing something to the Observer to the effect that 1) bin Laden is dead, 2) unemployment has fallen to 8+%, 3) we’re out of Iraq (a tragically goofy war to start with), 4) 64% of manufacturers report adding workers, 5) housing is beginning tepid upward movement and 6) foreign oil imports are down.  I just don’t get this utter hatred on the part of zealots.  How the Republicans have members among anyone in the middle class is just beyond me.  Maybe Newt is onto something with his idea of colonizing the moon and usurping it as the 51^st state.  The problem is it won’t start soon enough.  If we could speed that up, we could ship those folks up there.  But that would be akin to that old joke about attorneys: what do you call 5,000 lawyers at the bottom of the sea?  A good start.

Felicia spotted a coyote behind the house yesterday while I was on my way to Caldwell.  I wish I could’ve seen it.  Maybe it dined on one of the several feral cats that prey on the birds that a bunch of the neighbors and I are trying to feed.  People are upset down here that coyotes are poaching their cats and little dogs.  Solution: keep your *&%(# cats and what passes for mini-dogs inside the house.  Coyotes eat what is available.  The blue birds are out back this morning scoping out the nesting box, and the chickadees are in an uproar about it.  My money is on the chickadees muscling the bigger blue birds out of the way (just like they did last year).

Number 62 occurs on Wednesday.  Just another day on the calendar, in my view.  Age is nothing more than an arbitrary number and will be so again this year.  Sure, the return image is skewed a little bit when I look in the mirror, but I will still flaunt it by golfing and riding the Harley and taking walks and fly fishing and just doing things.  Your uncle doesn’t seem overly upset about it although we have been prone to talking about when to take Social Security, etc.  There are a couple of bones I’ll toss toward age.  A little memory juice wouldn’t be such a bad thing.  The other thing I have to owe up to is getting a pair, or two, of full time glasses.  My vision is going to hell.  I just can’t seem to distinguish things as well as even a year or two ago.  Maybe that’s what stops me from seeing the handwriting on the wall.  That’s a joke, too.

I went to a book writer’s seminar last week and found it enlightening.  Enlightening as in I have no clue how to get started let alone finding a publisher or marketing the thing.  I have yet to come across a writer who doesn’t think their topic isn’t the best thing since sliced bread or bottled water.  One of the two speakers encouraged us to take a hard, dispassionate look at the market for our manuscripts.  If we can’t forthrightly admit that the potential pool of buyers isn’t oceanic (my term), then perhaps we should just self-publish a few copies for family and friends.  There’s something to that.  If you have thoughts on that, I’m all ears.