How I Learned Patience In My Garden

I got poison ivy the other day. I’m highly susceptible and usually try to carefully avoid it. But there they are, the ugly red welts on my left wrist, above where the cuff of my garden gloves end. They itch, but I know not to scratch. I’ll treat them as best I can, and I understand that if I prevent their spread, eventually they will fade away. I just have to be patient.

Patience, however, is not a natural state for me. Culturally, we Americans are an impatient people. As part of the Baby-Boomer generation, I am not predisposed to wait for things, having been raised on television, where problems are typically resolved in a half-hour or hour. Biologically or genetically it would be safe to say that patience is not part of my DNA. My mother is one of the least patient people I know. We joke about it, but occasionally I get concerned when she tries to do something by herself when she should wait for help. “Hold on, Patience,” I joke. “Let me help you with that.”

But if my garden occasionally injures me, it also helps to teach me to be more patient. I’ve learned to wait for things to happen in their own time. Of course I’m impatient to get things started in the spring. I planted the tomatoes early and then had to protect them from frost this year. I’m eager to see the peonies bloom, because they get things started. After that, it’s best to bide your time and go with the flow. After all, when the mums start to bloom, it’s almost over, and I’m not a big fan of winter.

I do look forward to the unmatched taste of homegrown tomatoes and lettuce fresh from the garden. It’s nice to be able to add fresh herbs to whatever is cooking. These are highly practical purposes for a garden. It’s also nice to sit down with a cold beverage and just contemplate the natural beauty of the flowers. A friend of mine refers to his “Tranquillity Zone” and I know just what he means. Thankfully, I’ve learned how to sit down and do nothing once in a while.

But even as I sit, the weeds taunt me. Another friend and fellow gardener once told me that a weed is just a flower in the wrong place. It’s true, and I’m sure there’s a lesson in there somewhere, but just let me wander over and pluck that dandelion before it goes to seed. You see, the purpose of most hobbies is to keep you engaged in doing something. Gardening is a great hobby, because there’s always something to do, even if it’s sitting there just enjoying the view.

Another hobby of mine is writing. I don’t think I have all of the answers, but once in a while I feel the need to write things down in order to help me sort out my own feelings on whatever subject crosses my mind that day. I’m sure that I’ve annoyed people with my views. Others have let me know that they like what I’ve written. That makes me happy. It’s also good to keep in practice. What’s really nice is if you can turn your hobby into something that pays the bills. While I doubt that there’s much of a chance of me becoming a farmer, despite my love of growing things, I’d love to write a bestseller. Everything I’ve ever read by famous authors tells aspiring writers to be both persistent and patient. It takes time. Anything that is worthwhile usually does.

But for now I’ll just keep plugging away, hopefully some of you find this entertaining. If I’ve annoyed you, I apologize. If I presented a view that you hadn’t contemplated before that’s a good thing. Personally, I think that we need to change the way things work, or don’t work, in our country. But we’ll probably have to wait until things get worse before we decide to make them better. But for now I think I’ll get cleaned up, run some errands and finish up my work for the day. It will soon be time to mix a cocktail and head out to enjoy the peaceful bliss in the garden. I just have to be patient.

 OK, ONE LITTLE LESSON:




GOOD PLANT (hibiscus)

BAD PLANT (poison ivy)

Less Talk and More Action...Why Little Things Mean A Lot

Sunday’s newspaper included its standard weekly recap of major happenings in Congress, listing bills considered, outcomes of the vote, and how each of our local representatives cast their vote. Our House of Representatives had considered two major bills. I noted with interest that the votes were not strictly along party lines, including our own Congressional District’s Republican representative voting with the Democrats.

The more telling recap happened in the Senate. They too were trying to consider two bills. The result was the same each time. The Democrats had failed to garner enough votes to override a threatened filibuster by the Republicans. The end result was that nothing happened in the Senate. No bills were passed. No bills were even voted on. The votes taken on the proposed filibusters went strictly along party lines.

Now my first exposure to the filibuster came from Frank Capra’s famous film, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington. Young Jimmy Stewart uses the filibuster rule in an attempt to save the site for his planned boy’s camp, instead of letting it get flooded by an unneeded pork barrel dam project. It was already an old film when I first saw it on TV, but despite Capra’s typical schmaltzy techniques, it still ranks as a classic. I thought the filibuster was a great idea. One man could, if he had sufficient stamina, talk long enough to prevent a vote in the Senate. It seemed like a path to victory for the little guy.

But that’s not how the filibuster works these days. Now, forty-one Senators can agree that they will threaten to use a filibuster, and unless you can get sixty Senators to agree to bring the matter to a vote, no vote will be taken. The U.S. Senate is derisively known as “the place that bills go to die.”

In his recent book, The Clinton Tapes, author Taylor Branch describes newly elected President Bill Clinton’s meeting with the Senate’s leading Republican, Bob Dole. Clinton reached out to Dole and expressed his hope that they could work together for the benefit of the American people by passing needed legislation. Dole was frank with the former Arkansas State Governor, explaining that as head of the opposition party, his job was to see to it that Clinton would accomplish nothing. It would make him look bad in the eyes of the electorate, and help to return the Republicans to power. Must have been a brutal eye-opener to the young President.

Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid has come out in favor of changing the filibuster rule to require a simple majority (50 Senators) in order to get legislation to a vote. It’s a small change, but could have big results. According to Reid the biggest problem facing the Senate is that "We can't get legislation on the floor. We've tried very hard all different ways to move legislation in this body but for the first time in the history of the country, the number one issue in the Senate of the United States has been a procedural thing, how do we get on a bill, a motion to proceed to something. That has taken over the Senate and it needs to go away. We shouldn't have to do that anymore."

Currently, our airwaves are crowded with ads for the two men vying for the office of U.S. President. Criticism of our current President focuses on his inability to create more jobs. To be fair, the American Recovery and Investment Act of 2009, known more simply as the “Stimulus Package” did save and create jobs. One year after the stimulus, several independent macroeconomic firms, including Moody’s and HIS Global Insight, estimated that the stimulus saved or created 1.6 to 1.8 million jobs and forecast a total impact of 2.5 million jobs saved by the time the stimulus is completed. The Congressional Budget Office considered these estimates of jobs saved and created too conservative.

Some economists said that the stimulus was too small. In his excellent book The New Deal: a modern history, author Michael Hiltzik points out that despite all of the agencies and programs created by FDR, the only time that the economy really improved during the Great Depression was when Congress approved bonuses for WWI veterans, releasing millions of dollars into the economy. The problem wasn’t too much federal spending; the problem was that the pump wasn’t primed enough. Of course it required the massive military spending that funded WWII in order to finally bring us out of the Great Depression. I recommend reading this book for the historical perspective it provides in dealing with a major economic crisis.

In order to create more jobs, the President proposed a jobs bill. It has been blocked in the Senate by the Republican minority. Now the same party is screaming at the top of their lungs that the President isn’t doing enough to create jobs. Guess what? Our three branch democratic republic requires action by the legislature, not just the President. He can’t do it alone because he’s not an omnipotent dictator. What’s more, if Mitt Romney replaces him next year, he won’t be able to change things all by himself either.

Little things mean a lot. It’s a commonly used expression, and is often true. Right now, the one little thing that needs to be changed is the filibuster rule in the U.S. Senate. Write your Senators and let them know how you feel. After all, someone should try to do something to help.

Building Bridges Between Islands

Willard “Mitt” Romney dropped by our area yesterday, stopping at a private country club for a fund-raising dinner, where one could have an intimate dinner with the candidate for a contribution of $50,000. I wasn’t invited, but our local newspaper kindly printed his remarks in this morning’s paper. Having read them, I’m not sure this man really understands business, despite the undeniable fact that he’s made hundreds of millions in the world of U.S. capitalism. I say good for him, but I’m still not sure he understood how it all came about.

During his speech, Willard blasted his opponent’s recent remarks about entrepreneurship. President Obama had said: “If you were successful, somebody along the line gave you help. There was a great teacher somewhere in your life. Somebody helped to create this unbelievable American system that we have that allowed you to thrive. Somebody invested in roads and bridges…” You get the point, right? In his famous poem, John Donne said, “No man is an island,” a quote that has stood the test of time.

The newspaper reported that Romney was incredulous at the President’s remarks, saying, “It’s a shocking, shocking observation on his part of what he actually believes…what he’s saying is that Steve Jobs didn’t build Apple and Bill Gates didn’t build Microsoft and Henry Ford didn’t build Ford Motor Company. Ray Kroc didn’t build McDonalds. That Papa Johns didn’t build Papa Johns Pizza” (BTW Willard, the man’s name is John Schnatter, not “Papa Johns”). All fine examples of American entrepreneurship, but how about a little reality check.

For instance, Steve Jobs was a genius in areas of marketing and product design, but he wouldn’t have got his start without his good friend Steve Wozniack, who built the first couple of Apple Computers. Jobs lacked the engineering know how to do it. Bill Gates got his interest in computers at an early age when the Mothers Club at his exclusive prep school purchased a computer terminal and a block of computer time on General Electric’s mainframe computer. The little scamp found bugs in another company’s program that he and a few buddies exploited to get free computer time. How about a little shout-out to his parents for paying his tuition, the ladies in the Mother’s Club for their contribution, and the company that recognized the lad’s genius instead of having him arrested for stealing computer time?

Henry Ford did build a formidable automobile company, but he had help. Do you think the automobile would have become so popular if government entities hadn’t begun paving roads and building bridges? I believe that was the President’s point in part of his remarks. By the way, Ford is also credited with a philosophy known as "Fordism”: mass production of inexpensive goods coupled with high wages for workers. Ford had a global vision, with consumerism as the key to peace, something that the wealthy of our country seem to forget.

McDonald’s founder, Ray Kroc, road the wave of American suburbanization to fame and fortune. Of course, he was selling milkshake mixers to the McDonald brothers’ California restaurant when he spotted a good thing, and partnered with them, before buying them out. True, he’s the one that realized the potential and built his empire, but he had help. John Schnatter, the founder of Papa John’s Pizza, bought out the other owners of a bar that served pizza to start his empire. He too benefits from the nation’s roadways to deliver his products.

These fine examples of American know how have also faced criticism. Jobs has described himself as behaving like an asshole. Gates has been accused of trying to monopolize the software market. Ford was a meglomaniacal anti-Semite, while Kroc and Schnatter are accused of helping to super-size the American people and contributing to our health woes. No man is an island, but some of us are getting to be close in size.

Much of the rest of Romney’s speech that night rehashed his typical speaking points, including a promise to “increase economic freedom by reducing the burdens of regulations and repealing ‘Obamacare’” (which is modeled after his own health care plan that he signed into law as governor of Massachusetts). He also claims that his opponent has lost focus on the economy, and has implemented liberal ideas and pro-labor policies (you mean like Henry Ford’s famous $5 a day pay for workers that allowed him to sell more cars to his workers?). Oh yeah, don’t forget to transfer all of your money into gold or diamonds or something if Willard gets elected and starts reducing the burdens of regulations on banks. I don’t think we can survive another meltdown like the banking crisis of 2008.

So Mr. Romney fancies himself a self-made entrepreneurial genius whose business acumen is going to rescue our country from our past failings. But does he understand the difference between business and government? It doesn’t appear that he does. I personally don’t want my bridges and roads built only by businesses on a for-profit basis. Would we have a low cost bridge option, for McDonald’s employees for example, that may or may not fall into the river it spans, alongside a better built bridge option for rich people that can afford a higher fee to use it. Doesn’t sound like a rational idea, or the American Way for that matter.

So while you’re busy telling us where we went wrong Mr. R., it might be nice for you to thank some of the folks who helped you get to the podium. How about a shout-out to your folks for paying the tuition to your prep school, and Stanford, and BYU, and Harvard? How about saying thanks to the government entity that maintains the airport where your jet landed, and the ones that built and maintain the fine roads and bridges that took you to the private country club, so you can maintain a decent separation from the unwashed masses? While you’re at, don’t forget those greenskeepers that keep the golf course so nice and green during the drought. After all, it’s the least that any self-made man can do.

“ ... any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.. ” 
                                                                                       — John Donne, Meditation XVII

The Photograph (from Tales of New Canaan)

The policeman stepped off of the trolley, sharing a quiet joke with the conductor before he swung down to the dusty street. He had wanted to drive up in the department’s new Hupmobile auto, but the chief insisted that he needed the vehicle at his disposal today, and that was the end of that. The tavern was a regular stop for Officer Johnson, both on duty and off, but this afternoon he was seeking out someone specific, and was almost certain he knew where to find him.

Mike paused as entered the dim bar, stepping to the left of the doorway, so he wouldn’t be silhouetted against the light at his back and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darker interior. The smell of stale beer dominated the odors that hit him, that and the smell of sweaty men fresh from their shift at the plant, but the scent of pickled eggs and something better caught his attention as well. Ham he decided finally, fresh from the oven and sliced thick on warm rye for the hungry workers that needed something in their bellies so they could drink more beer.

The tables to his left were crowded at this time of day, as was the bar running the length of the right side of the narrow building. In the not so distant future this would be called “happy hour”, but the faces the policeman took in looked mostly relieved to have survived another day at the factory, hard set faces with vacant eyes lacking anything like joy. The factory was hot and noisy, a dangerous place, but it offered good jobs, and was growing. “Boss” Baughman was becoming wealthier than ever as he introduced new labor saving devices to the world, and with money came power.

The policeman shifted his nightstick to his rear hip as he approached the bar, catching the eye of the bartender. He touched his side pocket where he kept his .32 Colt revolver, which he had yet to need in the line of duty, but was glad to know was available. The Boss didn’t like to see the police of his city carrying firearms, and the Chief did whatever the Boss wanted, although Mike’s superior wasn’t an idealist. He wanted his men well equipped. Even if he preferred them to use their “heads before the hands” as he put it, a pistol in the pocket wasn’t a bad idea.

Mike had no trouble finding a spot at the bar, since everyone shifted aside to allow him access. They knew better than to draw the ire of the big German. A nickel was placed on the bar, as the bartender sat down a large mug of beer and gave him a sad smile. The nickel would still be there when he left, no matter how many beers he wanted.

“Mikey, my lad. Sorry to hear about your Daddy. He was a…good man,” the bartender had to search for the right words, and he knew Michael’s father hadn’t really been that good. “A hard man, but fair he was.”

“He’s with the angels now, Tim,” or not, he thought to himself, raising the mug to his lips. “But I’ll drink to his memory now,” he added as his bushy mustache made contact with the foam of his beer, and he allowed himself a big gulp that washed away the dust of the trolley ride north. The bartender joined him with his own mug of beer that was never far from his reach. “How’s the new location working out for you, Timmy? Doesn’t seem to have slowed business any,” he added, gazing around the room, searching for a particular face.

“Ay, business is good, and this place is larger, but I hated to move, and that’s the truth. I would have gladly stayed where I was, across from the plant and all, but when the boss says ‘go’ what’s a man to do?”

“A smart man says ‘yes sir’ and then inquires where he’s going. And you’re no fool, Tim. We all know that.” The policeman took another swig from his mug. “Have you seen the old spot lately? You would never know your bar and the other shops had ever been there now. The site’s been cleared and the new Music Hall is well underway. The Boss loves his concerts you know.”

The barman nodded sadly then refilled several mugs nearby, carefully collecting the nickels of the other men at the bar. “So what brings you to my establishment, lad? Is it business, or are you just a bit parched?” His brow furrowed and he stepped closer, “I’m not in any trouble, am I?”

Mike laughed and shook his head. “Now what kind of trouble would you be in, Tim? An upstanding citizen such as yourself.” The bartender’s relief erased the tension from his face. He knew better than to make waves in New Munich. “No, Timmy, this an official visit, of sorts. I’m looking for Pat O’Shea,” his voice was low, meant for the barkeep’s ears only, but aware that those nearby could hear as well. It was good to keep them all a bit on edge. It made his job that much easier.

Tim took the half-empty mug from Mike’s hand and rolled his eyes toward the far end of the bar as he topped it off, and set it on the bar, with the handle pointing toward the man in question. The policeman grabbed the mug, nodded his thanks, and headed toward the back of the room.

Patrick was a small man with a big mouth, and he was using it to its full potential, telling bawdy stories to the laughter of  his fellow factory men as the policeman stepped up behind him. “O’Shea,” he said, “I’ll be having a word with you.”

“Patrolman Johnson, belly-up to the bar, officer. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today, sir?” His words were lighthearted, but his face betrayed worry.

“It’s Patrol Captain Johnson,” Mike gave him a crooked smile, pushing his chest out to show the new brass badge, denoting his recent promotion. “And I think a table would suit us better. Grab your mug and follow me, lad.”

The little man did as he was told, and followed the Captain to the far side of the room. The tables were all occupied, but Mike noted an old man slouched over his beer mug sitting alone in the back. “We’ll be needing your table Davis,” he said quietly as he loomed over the old drunk.

“Piss off,” the wizened old man said to his mug, before raising his sleepy eyes in surprise to the large blue uniform standing before him. Mike didn’t give the geezer time to correct himself, instead kicking the legs of his chair back with the side of his boot.

“I said we need this table, Davis,” Mike informed him with a tone that begged no argument. “There’s room at he bar, old man,” he added, betraying a rare hint of kindness in a softer tone.

“OK, OK,” the old man staggered slowly to his feet and shuffled toward the bar, hoping he had enough money for a sandwich as well as another beer, but knowing which he’d choose if his funds proved insufficient.

“Sit,” Mike commanded as he took a seat with his back to the wall, setting his beer mug in front of him. Patrick grabbed the chair that Davis had been using and twisted it around, straddling it and laying his arms across the back of the chair, which was now in front. It wasn’t much, but he felt he needed as much between himself and the policeman as he could get.

“What’s this all about then, Patrol Captain,” giving a similar exaggeration to the promotion as Mike had.

“It’s not good news Pat, but I’ll get right to it. It’s time for you to move on.”

“Move on. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means what it sounds like laddie. Move on. Leave town. Pack your things and go.” Mike took a gulp of beer and regarded the smaller man from beneath his bushy eyebrows, wary of any type of negative response.

“But why?” he began to squirm, knowing he was doomed, but refusing to believe it yet. “I’ve broken no laws. I’m a good citizen. I got me a good job on the new suction sweeper line. Boss Baughman, the man himself, was down on the floor the other day. He said what I fine job I was doing and he even said he thinking of promoting me to foreman of the line. You can’t do this to me.”

“Listen you little Mick. I can do it, and I am doing it.”

“Aww, there’s no cause for that sort of thing. I’m not callin’ you a big Kraut, am I? Besides, I was born here in America. Albany, New York as a matter of fact. My people have been here for more’n sixty years.”

“No matter, Patrick. You’re movin’ on, don’t be doubting it. And I think you’ll find there will be no promotion at the plant. No more job either.”

“But I’ve been doing good. The Boss himself said…”

Michael cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Who do you think ordered this, you dumb Mick? I wouldn’t be here unless the Chief told me to be here. And he wouldn’t have told me unless the Boss told him. That’s the way things work in New Munich. You know it as well as I do. Move out now, before things get ugly.”

O’Shea still held out hope, after all, the Boss had recently praised his work, and he needed all of the skilled workers he could get. Men with nimble fingers and quick minds, like Patrick. “He wouldn’t sack me without reason. And he has no reason.”

“Apparently you didn’t pass the background check for your promotion, Pat.”

“What background check? I’ve done nothing wrong.” Pat was near tears, but he was far too proud to let the policeman see him cry.

“You borrowed money from the eye-ties, now didn’t you?” There was a criminal element, run by recent Sicilian immigrants, even at the fringes of peaceful little communities like New Munich. Loansharking was one of their primary businesses.  “Boss doesn’t go in for that sort of thing.”

“But I needed the money to pay for me Mother’s doctor bills. Where else could I get it? The banks wouldn’t lend me money without no collateral. The Boss don’t lend his workers money neither. What was I to do?”

“I don’t know, Pat, and I don’t care. I was told it’s time for you to leave town, and that’s going to happen,” the police captain spoke with the finality of absolute authority in his voice.

“Well, I might lose my job, but there’s plenty of work around here for a clever lad like me. I don’t want to leave. What if I don’t?” He had broken, but he wasn’t finished yet. “This is my home. Maybe I’ll open up my own saloon. Give old Tim a run for his money,” he nodded toward the bar.

“Think, laddie,” Mike tried to reason with the man. It was easier than taking him out back and beating him senseless; not that he wouldn’t eventually resort to that tactic if need forced his hand. “Who’s going to rent you the space? If Boss Baughman doesn’t own it, one of his friends does. And who are you going to borrow money from? Banks won’t lend you any, you said so yourself.”

“Well, I suppose there’s always the eye-talians, now ain’t there? I paid ‘em back full, with interest, too.”

 Michael noted the smug look on the little man’s face. It was a shame he was going to have to remove it. “They won’t want to be doing no more business with a police snitch, Patrick,” the officer shook his head sadly. “In fact, it would also be the best reason I can think of to leave town. I wouldn’t want to cross them fellows. I hear there’s more…” he paused a moment to come up with the proper term, “finality…to their solutions than anyone else’s.”

“I’m no police snitch,” Patrick replied, his anger rising. “How would they ever get that idea?”

He hadn’t wanted to do it, but as always, Mike did whatever he needed to do in order to get the job done. He believed in being one step ahead of everyone. It had earned him his recent promotion and he was certain that one day it would make him the Chief. “Have you ever heard the old saying that one picture is worth a thousand words, Patrick?” He reached inside his tunic as he spoke, producing a photograph from his inside pocket and laying it on the table.

Patrick’s smiling face looked back at him from the photo. A lipstick kiss was visible on his cheek, and the pretty young girl smiled next to him. “The girl. That’s the mystery lass from Saturday night. She liked me. Made me take her dancing, and pay for that picture, too. She ditched me before I could get her name.” A questioning look spread across his face. “Who is she?” But in that moment he already guessed the answer; he could see the similarity between the girl’s face and the face across the table from him.

“She’s a policeman’s sister,” Mike answered. “And believe me when I tell you, I’ll get this picture to those eye-talians if I have to. They won’t be happy that one of their good customers is ratting them out to the police.”

O’Shea bristled. “Ratted ‘em out about what? I didn’t do nothing!”

“Doesn’t matter, Patrick. I’ll find something, and they’ll find your body down by the tracks, with your pecker cut off and stuffed in your mouth. Don’t be a fool son. Listen to me. Leave town. I’ll give you a few days, but one way or another, you’ll be gone.”

Patrick’s shoulders sagged. He was a beaten man whose world had been turned upside down and inside out. He watched Johnson finish off his beer and rise from the table and barely heard him say, “You know what to do, don’t you, Patrick?”

The little man looked up. “Bastard,” he swore under his breath.

Michael smiled his sad smile. He’d let that remark pass this time, mostly because he recognized the truth in it. His sister hadn’t wanted to lead the poor boy on, to pretend to like O’Shea, and make him take her dancing. And then she told her brother that she really had enjoyed Pat’s company, and hated it when she had to sneak away without saying goodbye. She had used that same word to describe him too, but in the end they both did what they were told to do. It was the way of the world. The big men made the rules and drove the trolley. Everyone else knew enough to get on board behind them, or get crushed under the wheels.

Patrol Captain Johnson strolled toward the front door, looking toward the bartender with a nod and a smile. The barkeep gave him a salute with a half-empty mug and stopped to pick up his nickel from the bar.

A Good Book...and Risks Big & Small

I started reading a new book a few days ago. It was a bestseller, highly recommended, and apparently a favorite at my local library. At first I didn’t like it. It was quite different from the genres that I had read recently, and for a little while I considered putting it aside. There have been several occasions in recent months where I just couldn’t stand to finish a book, perhaps because of the subject matter or perhaps because the book was poorly written. There are many reasons to set aside a book. After all, our time is precious. We only have so much, and we never know just how much we have left.

In any event, I risked a few more hours on this book. As the story developed, the characters came to life for me and the plot gained my interest. Now I’m hooked. I’m glad I took the risk. I don’t know the final outcome of my decision at this point, but I’m content with my decision to give the book a chance.

It was an all-together different item concerning risk that caught my attention in the business section of my local paper this morning. I’ll get to it in a moment, but I would like to provide a little background first. Stick with me here, please take the chance, I’ll try not to disappoint you.

Up until recently I worked in a rural and relatively poor corner of my county. The people there were generally friendly, and even when I didn’t always agree with the opinions they shared with me, I took time to listen to their reasoning. They were mostly what could be described as “salt-of-the-earth” types, good-hearted and generous if not always prosperous. Of course there were idiots, tweakers, and others I didn’t care for, but they exist everywhere and I mostly just ignore them. But the vast majority of folks were decent people who needed a break to go their way. You see, his area has steadily been losing employment opportunities over the years.

Recently, they got a break. At least some of them did. The gas drillers came to town. More specifically, companies involved in obtaining natural gas through the process known as hydraulic fracturing, known generally as “fracking,” entered the market area and began buying leases enabling them to drill on many of the area farms. Many people got a nice chunk of money for their mineral rights, with the promise of more from royalties in the future.

Others in the area got a break of another sort. These companies began hiring people to work on the drilling sites. Believe me when I tell you, this area was in need of jobs and these were good paying jobs, and lots of people were getting work, directly and indirectly as well. I hoped for the best. Like I said, these guys needed a break, and it seemed that one was coming their way.

But if you haven’t figured it out yet, I will tell you that I’m somewhat of a skeptic. If you know me, perhaps this revelation isn’t a big shock. Anyway, these companies began a large advertising campaign explaining that their drilling process was safe, and that they planned to become a good neighbor and valuable member of the community. I maintained a hopeful stance and tried to bury my skepticism.

Now I understand a bit about how businesses work, and the purposes of advertising. It isn’t usually necessary to spend lots of money advertising something like milk. Milk is good and is good for you, and there isn’t a great deal of money spent to tell you that. But there is some money spent in that regard. On the other hand, much more money is spent advertising cigarettes (even though we no longer allow TV ads for them). Cigarettes are not good for you, and they’re only really good once you become addicted. Still not good for you though. They spend much more money advertising cigarettes than they do milk.

So the frackers’ advertising made me more wary, but I still held out hope. Sometimes, you just need to get the information out there, like with milk. Our community needed a break, and I was all for them getting one. Lots of people, including people that had earned my respect, told me that the process was generally safe, the technology had been refined, and the risks were minimal. Now I know that anytime we extract anything from the earth, there exist risks. However, I feel that we have to take certain risks in order to enjoy the level of civilization that we have come to expect. I’m not willing to do without electricity. I know that we can produce it through renewable sources, but until that technology is widespread, we need to burn fossil fuels to get electric. Natural gas is a cleaner fuel to use than coal, and I would like to see more gas used than coal, even if it will cost us some coal jobs in this area of the country.

Anyway, as I did more personal research on hydraulic fracturing, I grew more wary. There were lots of bad side effects, lots of potential problems, in short lots of things that go wrong. But I’m an equal opportunity skeptic, and my skepticism cuts both ways. As I said, I know that any time we extract things from the earth, there are risks. We have to take some of them. We have to assess the risks as accurately as possible and act in our best interests. I don’t believe everything I read, and you shouldn’t either. And as I said before, a good economic break was sorely needed in this area.

Which brings me back to this morning’s news story, as reported by The Associated Press, which said: “Nationwide Mutual Insurance Company has become the first major insurance company to say it won’t cover damage related to a gas drilling process that blasts chemical-laden water deep into the ground.” This is an insurance company, an expert in risk assessment, a company that will insure against monetary loss from a wide range of catastrophes that it knows will happen to some people, but not others. It has decided to no longer insure against fracking. Think about that, because it speaks volumes.

The article goes on to point out another important point: “It [referring to a leaked memo] said ‘prohibited risks’ apply to landowners who lease land for shale gas drilling and contractors involved in fracking operations, including those who haul water to and from drill sites.” That is an important point, and partly answers a question I had about why the drilling companies were willing to pay so much for mineral rights when the price of natural gas is at an historic low. It’s because the landowners are apparently shouldering some of the financial responsibility if something goes wrong.

Insurance companies are experts in risk. The reason that they don’t want to see the Affordable Care Act fully implemented, despite the fact that they helped write the law, is that among other things, the law requires them to insure people with pre-existing conditions. There is no risk assessment involved with people who already have an illness. The insurance companies know that they will be required to pay out, and it will cost them money. While I may think they’re being cold-blooded in my fuzzy little heart, that cold, calculating part of my business-trained brain fully comprehends their logic. No rational business willingly signs up to lose money (they may take a loss in the short run, counting on a large future gain, but generally speaking, no business wants to lose money).

In the case of fracking, the first major insurance company has stated that it is not willing to take the risk. Not take the risk at any price. That worries me. These guys aren’t tree-hugging liberals taking a stand for the environment. Not even close, they are trained in the ways of business and out to make a profit, as they should be. Others will probably join Nationwide, probably soon. We’ll see.

In the meantime, I will offer this small piece of advice to my old friends of southern Stark County who may have received a recent windfall from the sale of their mineral rights: DON’T SPEND ALL OF THE MONEY. You won’t be covered by insurance if something goes wrong. And if you haven’t already figured it out, the big gamblers, the ones that really understand the odds, are betting that it will.

Help...I'm Conflicted!

This morning’s newspaper featured the unsettling headline story of a man who called 911 in the early morning hours, and gave the dispatcher his address. The dispatcher, no doubt curious as to the reason for the call, asked what was going on. The caller answered (in what has been described as a rather “matter-of-fact” tone), “Well, I just strangled my girlfriend.” Seems they had been in bed together and an argument started. Apparently the caller ended it rather quickly and permanently. A friend of the victim described the perpetrator as a “psycho” and said she had “told her friend that he was going to kill her.”
Sounds like a sweet couple. He, of course, has been arrested. Bail is unlikely.

This brings us to my dilemma. What on earth should society do in this situation? I’ll tell you right now, I’m conflicted. From what little information is provided in the newspaper it seems likely that the guy will spend the rest of his life in jail, or perhaps an institution for the criminally insane. The cost to taxpayers will be significant whatever the outcome.

In the not too distant past, the outcome would be much different. After a perfunctory trial the man in question would be executed by the state. They would push the reset button of this defective human specimen. But in our modern world, we want to know how we as a society have failed this man, and how to make restitution for doing so. Did the killer lack sufficient education, especially concerning morality and proper social responses? I don’t know for sure, but I bet he is deficient in that regard. So the modern response is to institutionalize this killer and attempt to rehabilitate him. Does anyone really think that is going to happen in our under-funded state institutions?

Thus my dilemma: which is crueler, a swift and sure death, or a lifetime of confinement in a hell-on-earth environment? You see, I am opposed to a state-imposed death penalty on moral grounds. Essentially, my feeling is that if it is morally wrong for me to take another person’s life (and under most circumstances it surely is wrong), then why does the state possess the moral right to take a life in return (the moral right of the state is a gray area, the legal right exists in my state)? I know all of the arguments, pro and con, but I was raised with a strong Christian moral code, and whatever my feelings about organized religion, I believe more in the Golden Rule than in “an eye-for-an-eye”. But isn’t the “moral choice” in this case as bad or worse than the “old school” solution? Personally, I’m conflicted, and we haven’t even touched on the ever increasingly important economic aspect of the whole thing.

It’s been said that with age comes wisdom, and I am getting older. I’ve also tried to continuously enhance my education, largely through reading and exposing myself to a wide range of experiences. Yet it seems that the more I know, the more conflicted I become.

I’m conflicted over simple things in life. For instance, I like the low prices at Wal-Mart for a variety of items, such as shaving cream and razors. Yet I know that this company is squeezing out independent grocers (I’ve got a soft spot for family-owned grocery stores) and chain stores alike. I shudder at the thought of Wal-Mart’s lowest-common-denominator style of retailing dominating the market, and eventually taking advantage of the monopoly position it seeks. If I don’t like the store, should I shop there? I don’t know, because I’m conflicted.

Of course, I’m conflicted by larger issues as well. For example, I have met many people, old and young, who serve or have served in the armed forces of the United States. I have found them to be an admirable group of people, some of our finest citizens. They have now and have always had my wholehearted support. When Iraq invaded Kuwait, leading to our first Gulf War, I was outraged by Saddam's hubris, and generally supported the action taken, despite my dislike of military action as a solution. After the 9/11 attacks on our soil, I was incensed, like most Americans, and I longed for revenge.

However, it was here that my constant dilemma reared its ugly head again. Who should be the focus of our collective wrath? The perpetrators died along with their victims, yet those who planned and funded them remained. Despite my aversion to the “eye-for-an-eye” philosophy, I was content that as a nation we had to punish those responsible. The first time an attempt was made to bomb the World Trade Center in 1993 (rather unsuccessfully, but six people died and over 1000 were wounded), there was no military reprisal, only police investigations and eventual arrests. However, when it was announced that we were to go to war in Afghanistan, I became conflicted.

Afghanistan has been a wild country, fought over throughout history by everyone from Alexander the Great through the British Empire and the former Soviet Union. Oh and by the way, no one has ever completely tamed it. Rudyard Kipling wrote of a soldier’s prospects of combat there in his poem “The Young British Soldier” saying that it would be better for a soldier to kill himself than to be taken captive there. However, should we shy from our duty just because it is difficult? Our bravest patriots would shout “NO!” and I concur, and least in theory. And so we chose to go to war, not just in Afghanistan, but Iraq as well.

The result has been the overthrow of regimes that were considered undesirable by the majority of what passes for civilized countries in this world. But the wars have also resulted in a terrible toll of death and disfiguring wounds. Some specialists in the field have also speculated that the majority of our American and allied military personnel are returning home with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). It is a terrible price to pay with our youth, and of course leads to my personal conflict. As a nation, we have stated that it is our intention to withdraw our combat forces in the near future, with a new democracy left to govern in our absence.

That thought brings a conflict in my mind. Now I am also a major fan of democracy, and am thankful for our system of government, a democratically elected republic, with three primary branches of government featuring checks and balances. In concept I think it is the best system in the world, but I’ll get back to that. I also recognize that my view is inherently ethnocentric in nature. I cannot help but be influenced in my outlook by my own cultural experience. I am wary of trying to influence the rest of the world based on our culture’s way of doing things.

One of the prime necessities of a democracy, or a democratic republic, is a well-informed electorate. That condition implies a certain level of education. We don’t seem to be doing much in that regard before we pull out of Afghanistan. In fact, we really aren’t doing much in that regard here in our own country.

Our own government is changing from “one person one vote” to “one dollar one vote”. A recent Supreme Court ruling allows unlimited anonymous funding of Super-PACs, so-called political action committees, which have essentially become propaganda machines in support of whatever group funds them, left or right. Apparently our own electorate, the American voter, is influenced by the information, half-truths and outright lies spewed forth in the endless advertisements produced by these groups. I assume this to be the case, since it is doubtful that they would continue to spend the money without result. H.L. Mencken said that “no one ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public”, a quote that has been extended to include the intelligence of the American public. I have stated before that I think we need to better educate our people. I remain convinced at the necessity of education and personal growth.

A recent rerun on TV’s 60 Minutes detailed the actions of super-lobbyist Jack Abramoff, who was also the subject of the movie Casino Jack. He tells of the widespread buying of favors of our politicians. He is only one of many. If these stories don’t trouble you, you must have a significantly larger bank account than I do, or anyone else I know. These tales of political corruption lead to another of my personal conflicts: how can you love your country and your system of government, yet despise the people that you helped vote into office? What do you think?

Am I older and wiser…maybe, maybe not…I seem to be somewhat conflicted.

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier ~of~ the Queen! 
                                  -  Rudyard Kipling

The above was probably good advice for the young British soldier of his day, and perhaps the present day as well, but I think the following poem by Kipling offers a bit more hope:

If
If you can keep your head when all about you 
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; 
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, 
But make allowance for their doubting too; 
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, 
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, 
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating, 
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; 


If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; 
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; 
If you can meet with triumph and disaster 
And treat those two impostors just the same; 
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken 
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, 
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken, 
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools; 


If you can make one heap of all your winnings 
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, 
And lose, and start again at your beginnings 
And never breath a word about your loss; 
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew 
To serve your turn long after they are gone, 
And so hold on when there is nothing in you 
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on"; 


If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, 
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch; 
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; 
If all men count with you, but none too much; 
If you can fill the unforgiving minute 
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run - 
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, 
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

-  Rudyard Kipling

The Good Old Days...Or Not

People have begun to look at me like I’m crazy when I describe how things used to be when I was younger. I don’t really blame them because some of the things seem just so far-fetched. Take cigarette smoking for example. One of my earliest childhood memories is being in a doctor’s office with my mother and both of my older brothers. When the doctor finished his examination, he sat down and lit up a cigarette in his exam room, with three little kids sitting there. No one thought there was anything wrong with it.

My dad used to smoke in the car with my brothers and I all sitting in the backseat. Years later, I was discussing it with my brother, Gary, and we both recalled the nicotine rush we would get from the second hand smoke when he would first light up. We all worked at dad’s grocery store when we were just kids. The cigarette salesmen used to come in with pockets full of cash. They would buy all of the smokers working there a pack of cigarettes, even us kids (we started smoking young, since we already had a head start). I think I was about twelve years old when I received a pack from one of the salesmen. Talk about your merchants of death.

Smoking was ubiquitous; no one gave it a second thought. You could smoke walking down the aisle of the supermarket and no one mentioned it if you flicked ashes on the floor or ground out the butt when you finished. I remember going to lunch with four other guys from work one Saturday afternoon, and all of us lit a cigarette when we sat down. There wasn’t a no-smoking section either, it was acceptable to smoke anywhere in the restaurant, and no one made a peep. I can also remember visiting a friend in the hospital, I don’t think we were even old enough to drive at the time, or only one of us could. Three or four of us would crowd on his side of a double room, and we would all light up, including the patient. The poor guy on the other side of the room wouldn’t say a thing.

Recently, there was a TV show about air travel in the early 1960’s, Pan Am, which portrayed the time when the first commercial jets (Boeing 707s) went into service. It showed some people smoking in the airplanes, but I remarked to my mother that it didn’t seem realistic, since not enough people were smoking. She agreed, telling me that she thought she would pass-out from all the smoke (she’s never smoked) on a flight to Hawaii once. The series Mad Men comes closer to the reality of the situation, where everyone in the office is puffing away. I can recall being on a flight from Dallas to Chicago in the early ‘70’s. I was fifteen or sixteen, maybe even younger, but for some reason, I was flying alone. After the “No Smoking” light went off, just about everyone in the back sections of First Class and Coach (they had segregated smoking sections by then) lit up a smoke. There was an older gentleman seated next to me, probably in his 60’s, who asked me if  he could bum a smoke from me. He explained that he normally smoked a pipe, but the airlines didn’t let you smoke pipes or cigars on planes, only cigarettes.

What really blows the minds of younger people is when I tell them that the first year I was in college (1974-75), we were allowed to smoke in the classroom, during instruction. I remember more than one teacher bumming cigarettes from the students. After the first year, they made us smoke in the halls, before class. I can’t remember if it was during graduate school, or later, that they finally made everyone smoke outside.

So where is all this going, you may ask? Am I recommending a return to the wide-open days of yore? Of course not, given what we now know about smoking, it would be inconceivable to want to return to past ways. Yet as we make progress in other areas, there are those among us who would have us return to the “Good Old Days” for the sake of saving money, under that all-powerful guise of “creating jobs”. If we relax air and water quality standards, we’ll be able to create more jobs. Never mind that China is currently poisoning its entire domestic water supply in the name of manufacturing efficiency. If we lower the minimum wage (or eliminate it entirely---let the market decide) it will create more jobs. Should we do away with child labor laws as well? It’s been suggested, and it would create more jobs. Or are we content to buy our clothing from overseas, where some one else’s child made it?

The loudest current scream comes from those who would have us do away with the new Affordable Care Act, a mild attempt to create universal health care in the one remaining industrialized nation without it. “It is a job killer,” they argue. “We can’t afford it,” they warn. The weird thing is, they said the same thing when smoking bans started. They cried and fretted when President Nixon signed into law the bill that created the Environmental Protection Agency, leading to cleaner air and safer water. Historically, they also had bad things to say about child labor laws and minimum wage laws. Oh yeah, Social Security and Medicare gave them major hissy fits as well. I believe at the time they were labeled “Communism” and “the beginning of socialized medicine in the United States”, respectively.

I’m not a Communist, or even a Socialist, not even close. When I left business school with my MBA, I was a follower of the Chicago school of economics, where it was thought that free, unregulated markets worked best. Experience has taught me that we do need some regulation to hold back the negative aspects of unfettered greed. Refer to the economic meltdown of 2008 if you don’t agree. We could discuss it, but if you don’t believe it by now, I doubt if you’re susceptible to reason.

So, should we turn back the clock? Should we return to the glories of the good old days? Let me light up a smoke and…hack, hack…think about it.

Land of the Free, Home of the…Clueless

A few nights ago, my friend stopped by for a visit. He had been out to a sports bar for a couple of beers, and to see a cute bartender that he’s been enamored with for a while. He told me that they were showing one of those trivia games on one of their many TV monitors, since there just aren't enough sporting events happening on a Tuesday night in July. A question appeared asking who was the U.S. President during the American Civil War. He sarcastically joked to the bartender that they really picked a tough question. She looked up at it, read it, then told him that she didn't know the answer.

Initially, I laughed when he told me. I didn’t believe she was serious, or maybe my friend was setting up a joke. After all, you would have to be asleep in grammar school not to know about one of America’s most famous Presidents, and he’s told me the woman in question is around forty years old. Somewhere along the line, they made us memorize the Gettysburg Address. It’s a really short speech, but very memorable. It was a long time ago, but I mostly remember the speech, and certainly the reason behind it. But the bartender was serious, she didn’t know, and my friend was beside himself that she was that clueless. Unfortunately, after I realized he was serious, I didn’t have much trouble believing it.

I recently had the opportunity to work with some local high school students and recent graduates. I recall one young lady, I considered her reasonably bright, knew she was doing well in school, and we were talking about a recent trip she had taken with a school group to France and Spain. It seems that they were trying to find out something fairly simple from a guy in France, but he spoke no English. I don’t remember the exact problem, but I asked her if no one in the group could ask the question, which I then asked in French. It was something simple like: “Where’s the bathroom?” Now it had been around forty years since I took French in the seventh and eighth grade, but I’m pretty sure I phrased it correctly. It was a really basic question.

She looked at me and asked what I just said. She knew it was in French, but didn’t understand. I repeated it, slowly (my French teacher told me I had a terrible French accent-go figure, I’m from Ohio, she was Belgian by birth). She shook her head, and told me she didn’t speak French that well. “Wait a minute,” I protested, “didn’t you tell me you had four years of high school French, and you were in the French Club, and your group visited France last summer?”

She sadly nodded, but then explained that her French teacher had been a huge NASCAR fan, and all they had to do was to get him off on a tangent, discussing his favorite sport, and he would forget about teaching the subject that they were there to learn. Apparently it worked for four years straight. I was beside myself. That was just wrong.

Our economy used to be the best in the world. Our public education system was the envy of most countries. Opportunities abounded for our citizens. That is no longer the case, and if you’re wondering why, start with the basics. A country that does so little to prepare its young people for the future is bound to fail. History has shown us that all major societies, all of the world’s great empires, from Ancient Egypt through Alexander’s Greece, Imperial Rome, Portugal, Spain, the Dutch, and the United Kingdom, all of them, have fallen. The United States is on its way down.

The shortsighted way that we choose to educate the majority of our young people has to be a contributing factor. Of course, the argument has to be made that we cannot afford to spend more money on public education, and in some respects it is a valid argument. Especially considering that we have instructors more interested in pit stops and checkered flags than teaching what they are paid to teach.

So what is the answer? I have lots of opinions on a vast array of subjects, developed through careful reading, and listening, and devoting time to thinking about various issues. And I haven’t got the slightest idea what will work. What do you think?

I know we need to get rid of teachers that aren’t effective, but I’m generally opposed to firing teachers. I know we need to find a way to fund public schools better. Our current property tax basis has resulted in school districts that are vastly different in quality, and that bothers me. But I used to be comfortable with the idea that if you wanted better schools, you voted for higher property taxes to fund them, but now I feel that there’s a problem with that rationale. It breaks down over time. In a poor economy, no one feels compelled to vote for higher taxes. The children suffer, and no one cares.

There are those groups out there who would be happy to scrap the public education system altogether. Just do away with it. If you have kids, you pay to educate them as best you can, and that’s it. Of course these are the same folks who want to do away with Social Security and Medicare, too. I guess we could use all the extra tax money to fight a few more wars, and for sure there would be lots of kids who couldn’t afford an education looking for a job in the military. I think it might just create an ugly world.

Personally, I like the idea of a strong public education system, where even the less fortunate children at least have the opportunity to show the world that they have something special. I would hate to think that the next Steve Jobs, or Thomas Edison, or Dr. Christiaan Barnard, would just be sitting on the corner, wishing they could get a break. But a strong public education system requires a strong middle class of informed citizens. Ay, there’s the rub, as Shakespeare would say, because right now our middle class is deteriorating, and our electorate is not well informed.

So what’s it going to be? Shall we have a race to the bottom and may those who shoot straighter and faster win? I hope not. So, if you have an idea, share it. I know there’s at least a few people reading this, so share what you think. The situation demands a response. Don’t be just another clueless American.

Remembering Andy (And Advice From Fathers)

Andy Griffith died yesterday. He’s been called “everybody’s favorite sheriff” and was considered to have been an American icon. Andy was an actor and an entertainer. He had two very successful TV series, The Andy Griffith Show and Matlock, as well as several unsuccessful series, and various movie roles. He was never honored with an Emmy award for his acting (his co-star, Don Knotts playing Deputy Barney Fife, won five) probably because we all got the feeling that mostly Andy was playing himself and therefore not working that hard. He seemed like just a nice, honest guy. But if you’ve seen him playing some of his darker, bad guy roles, such as his first film, A Face in the Crowd, you realize that he could act. Perhaps even that it might not be a good idea to piss him off. Or, like most people, he may be a bit more complex than what you would suppose at first glance.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to bash him. I like Andy. I was never a big fan of Matlock, since it appealed to an older demographic, but growing up, we watched his show about the tranquil town of Mayberry all of the time. There were only three channels of TV shows back then, and we were just kids, so there wasn’t much alternative. Also, I’m not a huge fan of slapstick humor, and people being stupid generally bother me, whether they’re acting or not, and the show had lots of both. But it was also done very well, and that matters. Ron Howard, who played Opie, and went on to more fame and fortune as an actor, director and producer with an excellent grasp of our popular culture, attributed much of the show’s success to Andy’s grasp of how to do things well. He learned from Andy’s example and it taught him how to do things well.

For me, the things that made the show so good were the scenes with Andy and Opie together as father and son. Andy had such good advice, and he could deliver it without beating you over the head with it, more like making you realize it for yourself. I don’t think anyone I’ve ever known had a father like that. Mine is not the homey advice kind of guy, although I love him dearly and wouldn’t trade him for another. But the best piece of advice he gave me (that I can remember-and that might be the biggest problem) was this: Never bet the Three-B’s, the [Cleveland] Browns, the [Ohio State] Buckeyes and the [Canton McKinley High School] Bulldogs. It is very sound advice if you’re from the Canton area of Northeastern Ohio, since all three football teams have demonstrated a way of letting their fans down, especially when they’re supposed to win. But I never bet on football games, and it’s not really that useful of advice. Oh yeah, he did tell me another thing that’s really useful advice this time of year: be really careful with fireworks and don’t try to pick up a dud firecracker right away if it doesn’t go off. They’re words to live by.

The wisdom that Andy imparted to Opie, however, was the life changing kind, taught in the gentlest of ways, and we all knew that it would stick with the youngster forever. Probably it would be passed on to his own children, and even grandchildren, in a similarly kind and intelligent way. Very much unlike real life. I don’t know anyone who had a father like that. Some fathers did offer more advice to their children than mine offered to me, some gave even less. The problem is that when it comes time to give advice, we’re probably at an age when we are not inclined to listen, much less remember.

Andy’s real life son apparently had lots of issues, and died years ago from his problems with alcohol. On the other hand, Ron Howard has stated that he enjoyed a very helpful quasi-father-son relationship with Andy Griffith throughout his life, and went on to a hugely successful career. So in this case, art didn’t imitate life, it outdid life by a long shot.

So where does that leave us with Andy? He was talented, very good at what he did when it all came together, less than stellar when it didn’t. He was human, just like the rest of us, capable of making mistakes, and probably got it wrong more than once. But in the end, when it’s late at night and I can’t get to sleep, I’ll find a rerun of The Andy Griffith Show and hope it’s an episode where Andy teaches Opie about life. It isn’t a bad way to fall asleep, and beats most other reruns, old movies and infomercials every time. Also, it isn’t difficult to find a rerun of the show, since it has aired continuously since the original went off the air. So, in conclusion, I would say that we’ll miss you, Andy, but that’s not really right. What I should say is that we’ll be seeing you later, Andy. Rest in peace sir, a job well done.

 

Stop Sending Me Emails...You Big Baby!

One of my state’s U.S. Senators sent me an email the other day, after the Supreme Court’s ruling upholding the Affordable Care Act. Among other things, the message said:

“Regardless of the legal decision handed down yesterday, the fact remains that Washington-run health care is bad for patients and bad for the economic and fiscal health of our country.”

There are several things that bothered me about the email. For starters, I don’t think that the law in question will have our government running the health care system of the United States. The law requires that everyone have health insurance. Medicaid may subsidize low-income people who cannot afford to purchase private insurance, but for the most part private sector health insurance companies are involved. Perhaps the gentleman in question doesn’t have a firm grasp on the laws of our land. Makes one wonder how he got his current job (you know…making laws).

I am a student of history. I love reading about the past, of how and why things were done. I firmly believe that there is a tremendous amount of information about the past that we can use to better shape our future. Here’s a favorite quote (it’s more than 100 years old):

Progress, far from consisting in change, depends on retentiveness. When change is absolute there remains no being to improve and no direction is set for possible improvement: and when experience is not retained, as among savages, infancy is perpetual. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. In the first stage of life the mind is frivolous and easily distracted, it misses progress by failing in consecutiveness and persistence. This is the condition of children and barbarians, in which instinct has learned nothing from experience.
 George Santayana, The Life of Reason, Volume 1, 1905

History tells us that health care reform in this country has been championed by Presidents that include Teddy Roosevelt and Richard Nixon. I’m fairly certain the men in question were Republicans, although I doubt that today’s party would elect either one (TR was a reformer, apparently a dirty word now, and Nixon gave us the EPA…who can afford clean water and air?) The idea for the current health care reform law was proposed by the Heritage Foundation, a conservative think tank. A former state governor named Willard M. Romney used it as the basis for a health care reform law passed in his home state.  As a candidate for U.S. President, this same man now wants to abolish the federal version of the law. I don’t believe a coherent explanation has ever been given for this discrepancy.

The law was designed to alleviate the inherent inefficiency of our current system, because, among other things, the uninsured people of this country are using the hospital emergency room as their primary care physician. This, and related factors, leads to an unnecessary increase in health care costs.

Here’s a crazy thought (I’m full of them, having grown up in the ‘60’s): The ACA was a law passed by Congress, signed by the President, and upheld by the Supreme Court. Why doesn’t everyone sit back, take a deep breath, and see if maybe the law works? If it doesn’t, we can always change it, or get rid of it, later.

Now there was something else in this email that bothered me (Why this dude even bothers writing me boggles my mind. Sure as heck I’m not sending him any money). The sender implied that instead of supporting this unpopular law (proposed by his own party’s respected conservative think tank and passed by a majority vote in Congress) the President should be focusing on creating jobs. Um…maybe he forgot that the President’s Job Bill has been languishing before Congress (you know, where he works), held up by the sender’s party, because…why? Are they afraid it might work to create jobs and get the guy reelected…and keep them out of power for a little longer?

After all, we (thankfully) elect a President and a Congress to run our republic. Our President isn’t an omnipotent ruler who can snap his fingers and get things done. We have checks and balances. He’s done what he could, and now is waiting for Congress to act. Too bad they’re acting like idiots, or as Santayana would say…infants.