To My Readers. . .

I've decided to suspend my blog for awhile.  I've come to realize that the loss of my beloved dog Cassidy has caused me to reassess who I am and what I'm doing.  He was, above all, a joyful creature who worked his way into the deepest part of my being.  His passing not only breaks my heart but also raises new challenges for me.

I'll be back in some form.  I may focus on the political parodies that I like to compose or I may find that a new presidential election--coming sooner than we think--will revive my interest in the Washington circus, which has become petty and uninspired.

In the meantime I thank you for your support these last three years, and I'll look forward to resuming my work soon.

In Memoriam

Cassidy

July 21, 1998 - July 1, 2013

Beloved Companion

Joyful Soul

From Nelson Mandela

"A nation should not be judged by how it treats its highest citizens, but its lowest ones."

Nursery Rhyme Nuptials

What a week at the Supreme Court.  One day we're down, the next day we're up.  Here's a ditty to celebrate the rulings on same-sex marriage.  Sing to the tune of "Jack and Jill" from Mother Goose Rhymes.

Joan and Jill
Went to the Hill
To see if they could marry.
Joan found out
There was no doubt
And so could Tom and Harry.

Life Lessons From the Garden

The news is too much these days, as we lurch from one screaming headline to another.  I prefer thinking about plants.  Here are some observations that have occurred to me over the years, as I've dug up weeds and divided bulbs, moved plants and thinned overgrowth.  You could consider these lessons about life, along the lines of All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten or Tuesdays With Morrie.  Here goes:

1.  Sometimes you have to cut off part of a plant for the whole to thrive.

2.  Sometimes you have to move a plant out of the spot--I mean--sunlight.

3.  Sometimes you have to move a plant to the other side of the yard.

4.  Sometimes you have to accept that plants will die no matter what you do.

5.  Sometimes you have to let the wind and the bees and the rain take over.

6.  Sometimes you can't dislodge a weed from the rock that protects it.

7.  Sometimes you can't tell the difference between a baby flower bud and a dying flower head.

8.  Sometimes you can't get a plant to grow straight.

9.  Sometimes you can't keep the deer away.

10.Sometimes you can't imagine what your efforts will yield.

Sky Over Chapel Hill

"The soul can split the sky in two and let the face of God shine through."

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

Deen Cuisine

It's hard not to move when Michael Jackson sings "Billie Jean," especially in this video as he performs the first moonwalk.  I thought of this song yesterday when I read that Southern cook Paula Deen had been dropped from the Food Network.  Anyone who cooks a cheeseburger sandwiched between two doughnuts deserves her own song.  Sing to the tune of "Billie Jean":

She was more like a cooking queen on the TV screen
I said don't mind, but what do you cook? I am the one
Who will eat all this junk that's prepared.
She said I am the one who will cook what I want on this show.

She told me her name was Paula Deen and she caused a scene
'Cause every head turned with eyes that dreamed of being the one
Who would eat all this junk that's prepared.

People always told her be careful of what you say
Don't go around making racist jokes
And Matt Lauer asked her to come down to his show
But she was too tired and cancelled her plans
Hey, hey, hey

Well, Paula Deen was dropped for good
She's just a girl who cooks with lots of bad stuff
Like sugar, cream, and fat
She cooks really bad stuff
With sugar, cream, and fat.

She cooks really bad stuff
With sugar, cream, and fat.

On Being Real

Sometimes when I see this rabbit outside,

I think about the Velveteen Rabbit and wonder what the "real" rabbits in our yard think of this sculptured imposter.  For as the Skin Horse in Margery Williams' The Velveteen Rabbit tells us, "You become.  It takes a long time.  That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.  Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby.  But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

I think my stone bunny is Real.

In Suburbia

On my morning walks in our neighborhood, I often notice sounds more than anything else. 

Here's what I don't like:

1. Lawn mowers, leaf blowers, and all varieties of yard noise makers

2. Car alarms

3. Unidentifiable animal sounds

4. Footsteps behind me

5. Dogs barking

Here's what I do like:

1. The calls of the mourning dove

2. The thwack of newspapers hitting their driveways

3. Airplanes overhead

 4. Children's voices

5. My dogs barking

Can't Stop Singing 'bout Those Unborn Babies

The House Judiciary Committee approved a bill this week, sponsored not surprisingly by the Republicans, called the Pain-Capable Unborn Child Protection Act.  What are these people thinking, if they're thinking at all?  Here's a song that might explain their mindset.  Sing to the tune of "I've Been Working on the Railroad":

We've been working on abortion
All the live-long day,
We've been working on abortion
Just to pass the time away.
Can't you hear the liberals moaning
Heaping on their endless scorn?
We'll pretend we cannot hear them
As we save the unborn.

Women don't you know?
Women don't you know?
Women don't you know that we're in charge?
Women don't you know?
Women don't you know?
Women we're in charge of you.

Someone's getting pregnant right now-ow
Someone's getting pregnant we know-oh-oh-oh
Someone's getting pregnant right now-ow
Someone who just couldn't say no.

We're singing
We'll save li'l embryos
We'll save li'l embryos-ohs-ohs-ohs
We'll save li'l embryos
Forgetting 'bout their mothers' woes.

Gastrolinguistics

When I recently had an episode of what seemed like acid reflux, I consulted the next morning with my primary care physician--the internet.  Lots of sites popped up with descriptions of symptoms, treatments, risk factors, and the like, but what interested me most were the words themselves--ugly and unpleasant.  As I've written before, the medical profession seems especially taken with nasty words.  Here are some new definitions for the words that constitute the world of acid reflux and its more serious counterpart, GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disorder):

GERD--A nickname for Gertrude

Acid reflux--A series of repetitive LSD trips

Dyspepsia--The act of dissing Pepsi in favor of Coke

Regurgitation--The recitation of Gregorian chants

Lower esophageal sphincter--the part of the sphinx where the human head meets the lion's body

Hiatal hernia--a shell necklace made by indigenous Hawaiians

Dysphasia--A phase of the moon when the earth is most distant from the sun

Barium swallow--A species of aerial-feeding birds native to the barrier islands of Virginia and North Carolina

Esophageal manometry--A measuring device used to determine the age of Aesop's Fables

Endoscopy--A close examination of "Endymion," a poem by John Keats

Who's Got a Secret?

I know I should be upset by the latest reports of government surveillance overreach, but I'm not.  Maybe I'm simply tired.  Maybe I've grown accustomed to the lack of privacy in our electronic world.  Maybe nothing surprises me anymore.

After all, as I'm typing this entry, advertisements pop up on my screen for products similar to ones I've recently bought.  Kroger sends me coupons for favorite groceries.  My medical records are online at Duke, no doubt available to lots of people who work there.  Privacy, if we ever had any, is a thing of the past.

Most of all, though, I think my reaction to this news is governed by my trust in President Obama.  If this disclosure were taking place under President Bush's watch, I'd be outraged.  So because it's happening now, does that make it OK?  No.

But I'd still like to hear a more nuanced discussion and analysis of the surveillance, rather than big headlines and angry denunciations.  I'd like to hear from knowledgeable, impartial experts, rather than from reporters--who aren't necessarily national security mavens.

Then maybe I'll form an opinion and not feel so worn down by the constant, instantaneous chatter of the press.

Wedding Plan Blues

"Wedding Bell Blues," written by Laura Nyro and produced by "The 5th Dimension," spent 3 weeks in 1969 in the #1 spot on the U. S. pop singles chart.  I thought of it this week when I was in the thick of wedding plans for my daughter Madeleine, referred to below as "Mad."  Here goes:

Mad, I love you so, I always will
I look at you and see the child born in May
Oh, but what a trip it is to plan your wedding day.
I am on the phone now making arrangements
Keeping track of details and all the payments
But nothing will stop me worrying 'til you marry him, Mad

I love you so, I always will
And in your voice I hear a choir of carousels
Oh, but are we ever gonna hear your wedding bells?
I am the one who is reading contracts and packets
Stealing myself to the sales pitch and to the rackets
But nothing will stop me worrying 'til you marry him, Mad

I love you so, I always will
And though devotion rules my heart I take no bows
But Mad are you ever gonna take those wedding vows?
Oh, come on Mad
Oh, come on Mad
Come on and marry him, Mad
I got the wedding plan blues
Please marry him, Mad
I got the wedding plan blues.

From the Garden. . .

The Leaning Tower of Yucca.

Mommy Bores

How much longer do we need to hash out the so-called "Mommy Wars"?  An article in yesterday's New York Times by Stephanie Coontz, "The Triumph of the Working Mother," argues correctly for more support for families whose mothers work outside the home, but in so doing the author employs the usual language of alienating one group of mothers from another.  The sub-title of the article says it all: "Those who stay at home report more sadness, anger and depression."

Why can't we recognize that what works for some doesn't work for others--and that this is OK?  Why do we have to keep proving that one side is better than the other, when no such dichotomy exists?

I will be glad when we no longer read such articles, whether they argue for or against staying home with children.  Or maybe I'll just wait for Daddy Wars, when men write endlessly--and always in a defensive tone--about why they do or don't work outside the home.

These are wars that nobody wins, so there's no point in fighting.  Give it up, and advocate instead for jobs for anyone who wants one and good, affordable childcare for all.  Those who choose instead to stay at home deserve the same respect as everyone else.

House at Chris Corner

Kenny Loggins wrote a lovely song called "House at Pooh Corner," which he performed in 1971 with Jim Messina.  (If you don't know it, click here for a delightful rendition--and a trip back in time.)  I thought of this song when I saw images of Barack Obama and Chris Christie at the Jersey shore again this week.  The two of them remind me of Christopher Robin and Pooh, who are celebrated in the song.  Unlike the original tune, my version is sung entirely from the point of view of the Pooh character, that is, Chris Christie:

Mr. Obama and I walked along
the New Jersey coast just this past week
Now that we're buddies we see eye to eye
On disasters and FEMA relief.
But I've wandered much farther this week than I should
From my GOP roots--it's my old neighborhood.

So help me if you can I've got to get
Back to the party that voted for me
You'd be surprised how the GOP feels
I'm now a traitor for sure
They'd like to show me the door.
Before the days of Mr. Obama and Chris.

Barack the Prez always knows what to do
When the people get hit by a storm
He came to Jersey with help and advice
And he always makes good on his word.
So I sent him away with a new teddy bear
He's my friend, after all, which I know is so rare.

So help me if you can I've got to get
Back to the party that voted for me
You'd be surprised how the GOP feels
I'm now a traitor for sure
They'd like to show me the door.
Before the days of Mr. Obama,
Before the days of Mr. Obama,
Back to the days of Chris.

April Showers Brought May Flowers

I've got lots of new plants in the yard this year.  Here's my verbena.  According to folk legend, it was used to stop the bleeding from Jesus' wounds when he was taken down from the cross.  It seems too lovely for such a sad use.

Whenever I see the name Gerbera daisy, I think of Gerber's Baby Food.  This is unfortunate, for this delightful plant ought not to generate such a mundane image.

The botanical name for the pincushion flower is scabiosa, which sounds like a disease.  We'll stick with pincushion.

Spirea is properly spelled spiraea.  It rhymes with Crimea, Korea, and Medea (according to the online Merriam-Webster Dictionary).  It has medicinal properties similar to aspirin, though an overdose could be fatal.

This Virginia Spiderwort looks like a wreath.  Native Americans used the plant to treat a host of maladies including insect bites, kidney trouble, stomach aches, cancer, and "female ailments and rupture."  I imagine our forebears produced these medicines more safely, simply, and cheaply than the pharmaceuticals that are foisted on us today.

Bacopa is supposed to improve your memory.  Dr. Oz recommends taking 150 mg per day, but Dr. Weil recommends crossword puzzles, reading, and other more rigorously-studied supplements.  If I could, I'd like to know what the Native Americans recommend; they seem more knowledgeable.

On Memorial Day. . .

. . . a fitting quote from Mark Twain:
"Patriotism is supporting your country all the time, and your government when it deserves it."

Tarmac Times

Yesterday I got to do something I haven't done in a long time--see someone off at the airport from inside the airlines gate.  Ever since September 11 we've had to drop people off--pull up to the curb, unload their bags, and speed away.  But since Miranda flew as an unaccompanied minor ("UMMMMMM," as we call her) to Boston last night, I was able to be with her until she boarded her plane.

Here's a song to celebrate the memory of old times at the airport.  Sing to the tune of Peter, Paul & Mary's "Leaving on a Jet Plane":

So your bags are packed, you're ready to go
I'm standing here inside the gate
Watching all the planes glide in and out
But they haven't called your row just yet
The pilot's smokin' a cigarette
Already I'm so sad to see you go.

So kiss me and smile for me
Turn around and wave at me
Let me know that you'll be back again
You're leavin' on that jet plane
The one that's on the tarmac now
I'll wait and watch you go.

There's so many times I dropped you off
When the TSA don't let you stop
I tell you now, they've changed everything
For we're all potential terrorists
With suspicious shoes and underwear
We're patted down, it's all too much to bear.

So kiss me and smile for me
Turn around and wave at me
Let me know that you'll be back again
You're leavin' on that jet plane
The one that's on the tarmac now
I'll wait and watch you go.

Minister in Chief

Not long after the Boston bombings a friend of mine was seeking theological wisdom to help process the attack.  When we both realized that neither her rabbi nor my minister had offered anything especially helpful, I suggested that she watch President Obama's comments on YouTube.  They were both thoughtful and profound, I told her.

I was reminded of this conversation when I listened to the president's response this week to the tornado in Oklahoma.  Once again, he offered spiritual solace not only to those directly involved but to all of us in the midst of tragedy.  Has he defined a new role for the presidency?

If so, he's good at it--which may account in part for his steady approval ratings.  His unusual equanimity rarely gives way.  That he can speak of the unspeakable time and again defuses some of the terror that accompanies these events.

Minister in Chief is probably not listed in the president's job description.  But this work done well makes all the difference.

A Dog's Life: Cassidy

"An animal's eyes. . .

. . . have the power to speak a great language."

- Martin Buber

Ants on the Move

When I told our electrician this week that I was battling ants, he replied, "Who isn't?"  I guess I'm not alone.  Here's a song about this latest invasion, a version of "The Ants Go Marching":

The ants go marching ten by ten, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching ten by ten, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching ten by ten
I see they're back in my house again
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching eight by eight, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching eight by eight, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching eight by eight
I set out traps that are filled with bait
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching six by six, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching six by six, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching six by six,
I smash two more with a ton of bricks
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching four by four, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching four by four, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching four by four
I think it's time to declare a war
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching two by two
I flush them both right down the loo
And they all go marching down to the ground to get out of my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

The ants go marching zero by zero, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching zero by zero, hurrah, hurrah,
The ants go marching zero by zero
I now declare myself a hero
'Til they all come marching up from the ground to get back in my way.
Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom.

May Monotony

The news this week, I'm sorry to say, isn't interesting to me.  I loved the photos of Chris Christie and Prince Harry, and Angelina Jolie's disclosure was provocative on many levels.  But otherwise, the reporting of this week's events--the IRS, the AP, Benghazi--seems overridden by hyperbole and distortion.  So I'm posting a picture of my columbine instead.

Mother's Day Mementoes

Flowers by Mark. . .

. . .  and face jug by Miranda.  Lucky me. 

The Royal Redhead

What's not to like about Prince Harry?  The pictures from Washington are delightful.  Here's a song to celebrate his visit--sing to the tune of that old summer camp song "Bingo":

There was a prince who came to town
And Harry was his name, Oh!
H  A  R  R  Y
H  A  R  R  Y
H  A  R  R  Y
And Harry was his name, Oh!

The locals oohed and aahed they did
As Harry toured the sites, Oh!
*  A  R  R  Y
*  A  R  R  Y
*  A  R  R  Y
And Harry was his name, Oh!

He toured the town with John McCain,
Two warriors together.
*  *  R  R  Y
*  *  R  R  Y
*  *  R  R  Y
and Harry was his name, Oh!

He and Michelle became fast friends,
They bonded at the White House.
*  *  *  R  Y
*  *  *  R  Y
*  *  *  R  Y
And Harry was his name, Oh!

He has his mother's charm, he does
In visits with the soldiers.
*  *  *  *  Y
*  *  *  *  Y
*  *  *  *  Y
And Harry was his name, Oh!

Americans like royalty
And Harry fits the bill, Oh!
*  *  *  *  *
*  *  *  *  *
*  *  *  *  *
And Harry was his name, Oh!

What's God Got To Do With It?

It's a good thing that Mark Sanford has God on his side.  In his acceptance speech Tuesday night, the former South Carolina governor told us that he was "saved by God's grace."  He wanted to "publicly acknowledge God's role in all of this," and he said that God spoke to him and said, "Not that you'll win but you'll learn."  Sanford spoke of a "God not just of second chances, but of third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth chances."

Uh-oh.  Sounds like we're in for more hikes on the Appalachian Trail.  A God of first and second chances is one thing, but after that you're on your own.

Or are you?  When you can so easily pull God out of a hat and wave your magic God wand, you can get away with anything.  Especially in the Bible Belt where God and sin go way back.  Sanford knows his constituents and knows his God talk, and God didn't let him down.

Springtime Magic

A song from my past:

"White coral bells upon a slender stalk,
Lilies of the valley deck my garden walk.
Oh, don't you wish that you could hear them ring?
That will happen only when the fairies sing."

They must be out again, those fairies, for I hear the bells tinkling in the breeze.

Sanford Saga

What can you say about former South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford, one of the creepier politicians in the news these days?  He should have exited quietly, following his North Carolina counterpart John Edwards.  But he didn't.

Here's James Taylor's lovely song "Carolina In My Mind," twisted into a tale of Sanford sleaze:

"In my mind I'm going to Carolina.  Can't you see Mark Sanford, can't you just see his soul mate?
And ain't it just like a guy like him to put his ego first?  Yes, I'm going to Carolina for some sleaze.

Jenny, she's the jilted wife, she just charged her ex with trespassing,
He was standing on her porch.
A cellphone flashlight in his hand has left him guilty, and he went to Carolina by mistake.

There ain't no doubt he should have walked the Appy Trail as he first claimed
'stead of meeting his soul mate.
And hey, babe, it's Argentina calling to him, but it's Carolina where he should have been.

So for now he's running in Carolina.  Can't you tell he's nutty?  Can't you just tell he's too loose?
And it ain't it just like this governor to run a rambling ad? 
It's the Alamo he thinks he's up against.

Going to Carolina for to win.  Yes, he'll win in Carolina in his mind.

A Dog's Life: Sundance

 Here's Sundance lying on a skirt I left on the floor one day. . .

. . . do clothes make the dog, or does dog make the clothes?

Decision Making 101

At the new George W. Bush Presidential Library and Museum, visitors to an interactive theater decide how they would respond to some of the challenges that faced the 43rd president.  Here's a slight twist to this game.  Pretend you are President Bush and choose in each case below the answer that best describes the action he took.

1. Terrorists primarily from Saudi Arabia and financed by operatives in Afghanistan destroy the World Trade Center in New York, killing 3,000 people.  In response, you decide to attack which of the following countries:

A. Germany

B. Zimbabwe

C. Iceland

D. Iraq

2. Once you decide to invade Iraq, you need to come up with an explanation for this unexpected move.  You invent the following scenario:

A. The Iraqi government is poised to land a manned space shuttle on Mars.

B. A group of Iraqi school children threatened publicly to throw 50 pairs of shoes (that once belonged to Imelda Marcos) at you.

C. Gold has been discovered near Basra.

D. Saddam Hussein has acquired weapons of mass destruction.

3. You begin to capture suspects in your so-called "War on Terror."  You take which of the following actions:

A. Read the prisoners their Miranda rights.

B. Appoint defense lawyers.

C. Reread the Geneva Convention.

D. Ignore the international ban on torture and set up secret detention sites.

4. A major hurricane devastates the Gulf Coast of the United States.  You act quickly in the following way:

A. Watch CNN's coverage of people stranded at the Superdome in New Orleans and wonder if the World Series is under way.

B. Watch Al Jazeera's coverage of Americans sleeping on luggage conveyors at the New Orleans airport and wonder if this isn't a third world country by mistake.

C. Watch NBC's coverage of the failure of the levees throughout the city and find yourself humming "American Pie"--"drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry/Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye/Singing this'll be the the day that I die."

D. Watch the mayhem below from the comfort of your private presidential helicopter--seemingly disengaged and uninterested.

5. As the hurricane devastation unfolds, you compliment which of your advisers in the following way:

A. "Dick, You're as close to Voldemort as they come."

B. "Condi, You play the piano beautifully."

C. "Rummy, Thank you for reminding us of both the known unknowns and the unknown unknowns."

D. "Brownie, you're doing a heck of a job."

If you answered "D" in each case, congratulations!  You've won a day's free pass to the George W. Bush Presidential Library and Museum in Dallas.

W

Here's a song in honor of the opening of the George W. Bush Presidential Library this week.  Sing to the tune of "Georgy Girl":

Hey there!  W!
Why is it that you don't seem so bad?
Is it 'cause we don't remember all
Of the harm you caused our country.

Hey there!  W!
Why have you been so ignored thus far?
Is it 'cause you left a mess that nobody can clean up?
You always seemed lighthearted, you never seemed too upset
With Dick and Rummy running the show, a little bit.

Hey there!  W!
There's a different side of you displayed
If we go to SMU and
Visit your new museum
The world will see a new W.

Don't cry, W!
Cheer up, W!

Lilly

Here's a break from last week's bad news.  Miranda took these pictures of her first childhood friend Lilly, who has Cornelia de Lange Syndrome, a genetic disorder with physical, medical, and cognitive symptoms.  Lilly rides every week at the North Carolina Therapeutic Riding Center, which provides equine therapy for kids with autism, learning disabilities, cerebral palsy, Down Syndrome, and other similar challenges.  On Saturday the kids competed in a horse show.

We didn't know whether Lilly would agree to ride that day, but here she is on her trusted horse Gigi:

 
The instructors and volunteers at the Center give hours of time to help deepen the children's lives:

Maybe the fake horse was easier to ride:

In the end what really mattered was this--Lilly wore pink boots to die for:

Such An American Tragedy

It's hard to get my mind around the events in Boston last week.  Both Monday's horrific bombings and Friday's violent conclusion hit close to home--even though we're 700 miles away.  Here's why I think these events felt so personal:

1. Most of us know someone who lives in Boston.

2. Marathons are a big part of our culture--our more wholesome culture, that is.  The Boston Marathon is like the 4th of July.

3. The bombings were so thoroughly photographed that, by the end of the day, the victims--both those who died and those who survived--almost became our friends.  They looked like people we knew.

4. The backwards baseball cap of the younger brother evoked the image of high school boys all over the country.

5. Backpacks are standard American gear.

6. Sean Collier, the MIT officer, was just sitting in his car doing his job; his shift was about to end.

7. The brothers spared the life of the guy whose car they hijacked.  If we'd played a starring role in this horror movie of all horror movies, wouldn't we have been cast as him?

8. Two brothers on a mission isn't hard to imagine.  We find ourselves hoping that Tamerlan lured his younger brother Dzhokhar into this diabolical scheme.  Then, we tell ourselves, this nightmare might make some sense.

9. In a video filmed by a woman who lives down the street from the Watertown shootout, you hear over 50 gunshot and explosive sounds--as well as dogs barking and birds chirping.

10. A 19-year-old curled up in a boat--Huckleberry Finn he ain't.

Relief

No song today.  Instead, gratitude that Madeleine and Daniel are safe in Boston and that so many people served their city with courage and dignity.  An awful week has come to an end.

America the Pitiful

The older I get the harder it is to accept the murder of children.  What kind of society doesn't take care of its kids, doing whatever it can to keep them safe?  The death of the little boy in Boston on Monday and the defeat of gun control measures last night have piled on top of each other, leaving me heartsick for all of us.  I keep thinking of John Crowe Ransom's poem "Bells for John Whiteside's Daughter," which captures the vitality of childhood abruptly cut off:

"There was such speed in her little body,   

And such lightness in her footfall,   

It is no wonder her brown study

Astonishes us all.

Her wars were bruited in our high window.   

We looked among orchard trees and beyond   

Where she took arms against her shadow,   

Or harried unto the pond

The lazy geese, like a snow cloud

Dripping their snow on the green grass,   

Tricking and stopping, sleepy and proud,   

Who cried in goose, Alas,

For the tireless heart within the little   

Lady with rod that made them rise

From their noon apple-dreams and scuttle   

Goose-fashion under the skies!

But now go the bells, and we are ready,   

In one house we are sternly stopped

To say we are vexed at her brown study,   

Lying so primly propped."

 

Vexed and astonished by the events of the week. What are we to make

of our callous country?

Tax Talk

Here's a vocabulary quiz in honor of tax day.  Choose the best definition from the options below.

1040
A. A nautical term of confirmation, as in "Over and out" or "OK."
B. A nontoxic cleaning agent.
C. The standard IRS form that individuals use to file their income tax returns.

Dual status alien
A. A bisexual Martian.
B. Two flying saucers attached together.
C. A tax status for individuals filing returns.

IRS
A. An Irish revolutionary organization.
B. An online dating service.
C. The Internal Revenue Service.

Head of household
A. What most American males think they are.
B. What most American males--in reality--aren't.
C. A filing status for individual taxpayers.

1099
A. The year of the Battle of Hastings.
B. A position from the Kama Sutra.
C. A form used to report a variety of taxable income.

Qualifying child
A. A child over the age of 8 who competes in the Olympic games.
B. A child under the age of 8 who secures early admission to Harvard.
C. A child of any age who meets certain IRS criteria and may provide tax benefits to a taxpayer.

Third party designee
A. The third person in a menage a trois.
B. The head of the Green Party USA.
C. A person authorized to discuss another person's tax return.

Did you guess "C" each time?  If so, you don't have to file your return today.  You've demonstrated superior understanding of the American tax code, for which your government thanks you.  Congratulations!  H & R Block wants you.

Sweet Congressman

With budget negotiations about to begin in Washington--in all their absurdity--I'm reminded of "Big Spender" from the musical Sweet Charity.  This song's about Paul Ryan:

The minute he walked in the House
I could see he was a man on a mission
A real cost cutter
Good looking, soulful eyes
Say wouldn't you like to know what's going on in his mind?

So let me get right to the point
He would give tax breaks to all the richest folks
Hey Paul Ryan
Spend a little dough on us.

From the East Wing

In the midst of all that Congressional noise of our legislators debating gun safety measures came the sane voice of the lady down the street--the First Lady, that is.  Here's what Michelle Obama said yesterday at a luncheon in Chicago:

"We can't stop all of the violence in the world, but if there is even one thing we can do, even one step we can take to save another child or another parent from the grief that's visited families like Hadiya's, and so many others here today, then don't we have an obligation to try?"

She's right.  Saving lives is the bottom line, however small the step might seem.  All of the other arguments we hear, particularly those of second amendment rights, simply don't rise to this level of moral import.

She's right.  We have an obligation to try.

Tax Time

Too
tired
to
type
today.

My Fair Neighbors

So this is a lighthearted reflection on the walks I take each morning in my neighborhood, where I pass people that I don't know very well.  We have a nodding acquaintance, you might say, and so I salute these fellow travelers of the dawn.  Sing to the tune of "On the Street Where You Live" from My Fair Lady:

I have often walked down this street before
And I see the same old neighbors as I saw before
There are dog walkers and the solo ones
Some who speak, some who nod, some who don't.
There are two nice guys, one is black one white
They are liberal Democrats and so I like them both
Others I can't tell if they're red or blue
But they're here on the street where I live.

And oh the curious feeling just to know so little at all
About these people I see now
Each day traverse the same path as the one I'm on.

People pass me by, they don't bother me
'Cause we're on the same old journey that we've always been
Let the time go by, I will care if I
Can't walk here on the street where I live.

A Dog's Life: Washington Waggers

Have you ever noticed that politicians look like dogs?  Take the quiz below and match the photographs with the following public figures: John Boehner, Michele Bachmann, Joe Biden, Nancy Pelosi, Dick Cheney, and Paul Ryan.  Answers appear at the end (though multiple interpretations are acceptable--except for the basset hound and the bull terrier).

A) Afghan hound:
          

B) Basset hound:

C) Toy fox terrier:

                     

D) Chinese crested:

          

E) Bull terrier:
                                                                                            

F) Collie:
                                                                            
Answers: A) Nancy Pelosi  B) John Boehner  C) Paul Ryan  D) Michele Bachmann  E) Dick Cheney  F) Joe Biden

Duke Gardens Reflections

 "And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything."

~ William Shakespeare, As You Like It

Gay Sera, Sera (Opus #2)

Yet another historic week for gay rights in America, for which my theme song is "Que Sera, Sera" or "Gay Sera, Sera."  Here's a new version to commemorate this week's hearings at the Supreme Court:

When the Court heard the marriage cases
Supporters rallied outside the hall
Colorful banners, humorous costumes
Just like a festive ball.

Gay sera, sera
Whatever will be will be,
The future's equality
Gay sera, sera.
What will be will be.

Seems that the usual strait-laced judges
Will rule the usual restrictive way
Creepy Scalia, cautious Alito,
Coke-drinking Clarence, too.

Gay sera, sera
Whatever will be will be,
The future's equality
Gay sera, sera.
What will be will be.

No matter what these judges do
Gay marriage is here and it will stay
Guys wearing black robes can't do much about
Who rolls with whom in hay.

Gay sera, sera
Whatever will be will be,
The future's equality
Gay sera, sera.
What will be will be.

Resurrection

Good news for those of you who occasionally doubt the events of Easter Sunday.  According to an item placed in The Butner Creedmoor News (NC), a "Visit With Jesus" was held this past Saturday at the First Baptist Church of Butner.  Pictures with Jesus were available for $3 each.

Take that, Doubting Thomas.

And happy Easter to all.

March Madness

My family tells me that brackets are all the rage, as the NCAA tournament eliminates one contender after another.  I've come up with my own bracket for a tournament called the PRPA--Problematic Republican Political Association.  As you'll see below, you choose from each pair the more objectionable politician and arrive at a winner.

John Boehner took my trophy, but you might come up with your own winner.  Give it a try and let me know who won your PRPA.

Rocky Mountain High

With North Carolina's political climate becoming more and more regressive, I find myself envying those who live in Colorado--where both gun safety and gay rights laws were passed this week.  Here's a song of celebration; sing to the tune of "Oklahoma":

COL-ORADO
Where the winds of change sweep through each day
Where the governor
Is not afraid
Of members of the NRA.

COL-ORADO
Where gay rights are a priority
Where the hate of yore
Is out the door
And the state respects humanity.

These laws should be laws of the land
Ones that all of the states should demand
So when we say
Yeow!  Aye-yip-aye-yo-ee-ay!
We're only saying
You're doing great, Colorado,
Colorado, hooray!

Helen Borus

Here's my helleborus. . .



. . . which reminds me of a story about my friend Mary.  When she started confirmation class at our church years ago, the minister met with both the kids and their parents at the first meeting.  In giving an overview of our theology, he said, "We're not a church that believes in hell and damnation."

Puzzled by this statement, Mary turned to her mother and whispered, "Helen who?"

So here's to Helen Damnation, whoever she is, and a plant that shares her etymology.

Pop Goes the Gun Shot

When someone shot off fire crackers in our neighborhood on Friday night, I thought the noise was gunfire.  I'd heard similar sounds earlier in the week and posted the concern to our online neighborhood forum--which triggered (pun intended) a host of responses.  Many people, like me, thought they'd heard gunfire.

The next day I ran into our neighbor who manages the forum.  It turns out he's had guns all his life, having received his first weapon when he was eight, and he still wasn't convinced that the sounds were fire crackers; in fact, he'd been pretty sure at the time that he'd heard gunfire.

Which made me wonder--if an experienced, long-time gun owner is no better than I at telling the difference between fire crackers and gun shots, how reliable is anyone's judgment about firearms?  We're led to believe that responsible gun owners are trained appropriately in handling weapons, but what does this really mean when something unexpected happens?

I don't think it means much.  When someone shoots a gun, the circumstances are rarely planned or orderly.  Chaos and confusion reign.  Imagine if all of us who heard gunfire Friday night raced out with our weapons to take matters in our own hands.  This is what the NRA envisions?

No thanks.  The fewer of us who wield these powerful machines, the better.  Support any and all restrictions; it's the only sane way forward.

Papal Parody

Our papal plot has come to an end, and so we sing one final song to the tune of "Don't Cry For Me, Argentina," from Evita:

Give us a pope, Argentina
The truth is we need a new way
To preach our message
Without distraction
Of crimes and scandal
You know what I mean.

We had to let it happen
We had to change
Couldn't keep the same old Euro popes
Blessing us from the window
Praying out in the sun
So we chose Francis
Hoping for sure that he'd clean up the mess
He's modest, impressing us all
We never expected him to.

Give us a pope, Argentina
The truth is we need a new way
To preach our message
Without distraction
Of crimes and scandal
You know what I mean.

A Dog's Life: Cassidy & Sundance

"We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. . .

"In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear.  They are not brethren, they are not underlings;

they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth."

- Henry Beston

The Color of Hate

No wonder the congregation at Durham's Judea Reform synagogue gasped when they heard the news.  North Carolina's Department of Transportation is requiring that drivers' licenses of undocumented workers be marked with a pink stripe.  Sound familiar?  Sort of like the yellows stars of David that Jews were made to wear during the Holocaust.

As the synagogue's Rabbi Friedman said,  "The amazing thing to me is that Governor McCrory would not have had the historical sensitivity to realize what this would evoke in people. . . Wasn't it so obvious?"

Apparently not.  McCrory thought he'd developed a compromise between those who didn't think these young adults--brought to America as children by their parents--should be allowed to drive at all and those who thought they should.  Another example of compromise gone wrong--where human rights are whittled down to nothingness.

That we have too many ignorant people in power, both locally and nationally, is an understatement.  The rest of us cannot back down.  We need to keep showing up--on election day, in churches, in our neighborhoods and work places.

Hate and ignorance run rampant---especially when painted pink--are a dangerous combination.

Go Cardinals!

Looks like we may have a new pope this time next week.  Until then, let's cheer on the process.  Here's a papal rendition of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game":

Take me out to the conclave
Take me out to the show
Find me a cardinal who's scandal-free
Restore my faith in the Holy See
Let me root, root, root for a new pope
For one who'll clean out the house
For we NEED MORE GOOD and less sin
In the VAT-I-CAN.

Papal Vocabulary

As the excitement builds and we await the election of a new pope, let's pause and test our knowledge of the words surrounding this historic event.  Choose the best definition from the options below:

College of Cardinals
A) A flock of red birds in Harvard Yard
B) A Catholic preparatory school in St. Louis, Missouri
C) The body of cardinals of the Roman Catholic Church

Holy See
A) A third, invisible eye in the back of a pope's head
B) An exclamation, as in "Holy cow" or "Holy Smoke"
C) The papal court

Papal bull
A) A small, bovine animal native to Papua, New Guinea
B) The intrusive, out-of-touch dictates announced periodically by the Vatican
C) A formal proclamation issued by the pope

Sedia gestatoria
A) An inflammation of the intestines
B) A sedimentary rock
C) A portable throne used to carry popes

Pontiff
A) A large dog that guarded the Ponte Vecchio in medieval Florence
B) A small, cargo-carrying vessel of the Venetian lagoon
C) The pope

Zucchetto
A) An Italian confection
B) A male prostitute
C) A small, round skullcap worn by Roman Catholic clerics

Antipope
A) The devil
B) A typical American Catholic
C) A person established as pope in opposition to the one canonically chosen

Conclave
A) A cylindrical tool used in welding
B) A mathematical concept of set theory
C) The assembly of cardinals for the election of a pope

Papal encyclical
A) An over-sized bicycle
B) A condensed encyclopedia
C) A papal letter addressed to the bishops of the Church

Triregnum
A) The three kings of the Christmas story
B) An ingredient in chewing gum
C) The papal tiara

If you guessed "C" each time, you have a seat awaiting you in the Sistine Chapel.   Congratulations!  Don't forget to wear your zucchetto, and if you're lucky, you might get carried out in a sedia gestatoria.

Southern Pride

So here is my camellia.  It's been on its own all these  years, never specially watered or fertilized or pruned or spoken to--and perhaps its slow growth reflects this neglect.  Nonetheless, now my camellia is glorious.  Perhaps I'm a southern gardener after all.

Medical Millionaires

Steven Brill's report in this week's Time magazine details the outrageous medical costs that are passed on to consumers.  Read it and weep.  In "Bitter Pill" he follows the money--to administrative salaries, expensive equipment, and old-fashioned price-gouging.  Here's a condensed version of the article, which you can sing to the tune of "How Much is that Doggie in the Window?":

How much is that gauze pad that I need now?
The one that the hospital bought
I think it's sold cheaper at a Walmart
But sadly I'm stuck here and caught.

The hospitals charge us what they feel like
For drugs and machines and lab work
Don't try to make sense of bills they send you
You'll end up by going berserk.

The doctors don't make the really big bucks
Consultants and drug makers do
Machines and equipment are real cash cows
Whose cash comes from me and from you.

So try not to ever, ever get sick
Don't land at the hospital's door
For if you are there for even one day
You'll end up by being quite poor.

Random Questions from the Week's News

Is Chris Christie becoming a Democrat?  (Answer: Possibly.)

Is Time magazine about to redirect the healthcare debate, with Stephen Brill's exhaustive cover story about the rip-off costs of American medicine?  (Answer: I hope so.)

Can Congressional Republicans become even more dysfunctional?  (Answer: Afraid so.)

Did the NC legislature really vote to refuse Medicaid expansion and to return $64 million in unspent grant money to the federal government?  (Answer: Incredibly, yes.)

When do the Cardinals arriving at the Vatican change into their red robes (and do they wear matching shoes)?  (Answer: You know the Vatican, "Mum's the word.")

I wish I was in the land of cotton. . .

. . . oh that's right, I already am.

And so are a lot of other people who, I think, are still working through the final vestiges of the Civil War.

Let me explain.

Following the president's State of the Union speech last month, a New York Times commentator said that the country's political climate has not been so polarized since the Civil War.  And in the month since that speech, the climate has grown even worse as the Republican party holds the rest of us hostage to its narrow, privileged platform--determined to defeat President Obama regardless of the cost.

Enter "Dixie": the 2012 electoral map that shows all of the old Confederacy, except for Virginia, as solidly red.  Call me whatever you want for raising the issue of race, but I think the election--and then, to top it off, the reelection--of a black man reignited the smoldering ashes of Atlanta, Richmond, and Gettysburg.  One hundred fifty years is not that long for a nation to recover from such a traumatic war--a war that was fought largely over the place of the black man and the states' rights to determine that place.

That a black man now sits at the top (with his black family living in that whitest of white houses) has taxed some people so much that they can only lash out--which is exactly what's happening.  And isn't the word "sequester" an interesting one as the focus of all the rage?  It sounds ominously like "secession" and means essentially the same thing as "segregation."

The writer of "Dixie" had it right: "Old times there are not forgotten."  Someday they will be, I feel certain.  But in the meantime, those who wish to remember are choosing to destroy whatever they can on their way down.

The Sky is Falling

After the asteroid exploded last week over Russia, conversations about how to protect ourselves dominated the airwaves.  I'm not sure such efforts would work.  Sing to the tune of The Beatles' "If I Fell":

If the sky fell in on you
Would you know just what to do
Unlike the dinosaurs
Who stood still and were destroyed
By a major asteroid
That fell from the sky.

If we build a giant shield
Can we be sure
We'll protect ourselves
From rocks that glow and streak so bright.

If we study space
Can we predict a hit
Such as Henny Penny did
In warning all her friends
'Cause if not we'll all be toast.
If the sky falls in on us.

Medical Malapropisms

January and February are big medical months for me, when I immerse myself in the world of doctors and dentists.  Though I find the language of medicine largely unappealing, yesterday I came upon the word "osteopenia" and realized that it was an unusually pretty word whose definition doesn't match the way it sounds.  So here are some proposed alternative definitions for words from my medical records, making the unpleasant perhaps a bit more pleasant:

Osteopenia--an island off the coast of Italy

Phlebotomist--a Medieval botanist

Mammographer--one who charts the migrations of whales

Bitewings--yellow-crested birds native to Belarus

Neoplasm--A premature baby platypus

Cecal polyps--Underwater caverns ringing the Galapagos

Carcinoma--Female Spanish filmmaker

Ileum--A Greek melodic tune

Mucosal--Of or pertaining to the coastline of Muscat

Atypical nevus--A blue star visible only in the southern hemisphere

Downton Doings

Now that Downton Abbey, Season 3, has come to an end, I have a few questions for Julian Fellowes.  A few missing puzzle pieces, you might say. . .

How is Gwen, the housemaid from Season 1, making out at her job with the telephone company?

Did Sir Richard Carlisle--Mary's fiance from Season 2--ever find a wife?

Has Sir Anthony Strallan--the guy who stiffed Edith in Season 3--recovered from such a high-profile faux pas?

Is there finally hope for Thomas (Seasons 1, 2 & 3)?

Why did John Bates' cell mate (Season 3) have it in for Bates?  (And by the way, please don't send anyone else to prison; it's too depressing.)

Does Dr. Clarkson (Seasons 1, 2 & 3) accept Blue Cross/Blue Shield?

Does Cora ever learn about O'Brien's treachery (soap episode, Season 1)?

Will Daisy ever really get out from under Mrs. Patmore (Seasons 1, 2 & 3)?

Does Ethel's "bastard" son Charlie stand a chance with that mean-spirited prig of a grandfather (Seasons 2 & 3)?

And will the Dowager Countess be the last one standing (Seasons 1, 2 & 3)?

Papal Pomp

This pope--I mean post--is irreverent, but I can't help it.  I love it when a new pope is chosen, especially the smoke that announces the election results.  It's the Medieval version of "one if by land, two if by sea."  Sing to the tune of "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes":

Popes, they will come and go
Johns and Pauls you know
At the Vatican
Where they dwell in sin
Who this time will win?

The Cardinals will meet
Taking each a seat
Voting by and by
Even when a tie
Smoke blows from on high.

So the bishops come into the town
To find a new pope for us
If they don't, the smoke blows very black
We are without a pope.

But, if the smoke is white
And it's very bright
Then there's a decree
A new pope to be
Smokin' Holy See.

Random Questions on the SOTU

I thought the President's speech on Tuesday night was excellent.  Just a few questions, though:

1. Did Joe Biden and John Boehner coordinate their purple and pink Easter ties?

2. Can we get a new Speaker of the House, if for no other reason than to have a more pleasant-looking person seated behind the President?

3. Isn't there something wrong with people who don't applaud the goal to educate all preschool-aged children in America?

4. Can we pay our legislators the minimum wage?

5. Is it me, or has Marco Rubio been over-hyped?

A Dog's Life: Barney

If you haven't yet seen the portrait that George W. Bush painted of his dog Barney, click here.  I had no idea that our former president had such artistic ability; the rendering of his beloved dog is unusually well done.  In releasing the portrait, President Bush also made a statement about Barney, who died not long ago:

"Barney and I enjoyed the outdoors.  He loved to accompany me when I fished for bass at the ranch. . . Barney was by my side during our eight years in the White House.  He never discussed politics and was always a faithful friend."

After so many years feeling at odds with President Bush, I've finally found common ground.  He hits the hallmarks of a friendship with a dog--faithful, silent companionship--emphasis especially on "silent."  How wonderful to have a friend who expects no discussion, no explanations, no clarification, no rebuttals.

He simply is.

Postal Privation

The Post Office announced this week that Saturday delivery--except for packages--will end in August.  Here's a song for all the people who still love to get their mail six days a week, based on The Beatles' "Please Mr. Postman" (originally produced by The Marvelettes):  

Wait, oh yes wait a minute mister postman
Wait, wait mister postman

Mister postman, look and see
About a Saturday delivery
I been used to mail all this time
Coming in to that box of mine.

There must be some word today
From the gov'ment so far away
Please mister postman look and see
About a Saturday delivery
I been getting all my mail this way
For years and years, you see,
Don't wanna change to no more letters
On that Saturday delivery.

Please mister postman, look and see
About a Saturday delivery
Please mister postman, please, please, please,
Tell me this is just another tease.

Please mister postman. . .

A Dog's Life: Sundance & Cassidy

From Walt Whitman--

"I think I could turn and live with the animals; they are so placid and self contained;
I stand and look at them long and long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition;

They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins;

They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God;
Not one is dissatisfied--not one is demented with the mania of owning things;

Not one kneels to another, nor his kind that lived thousands of years ago;
Not one is responsible or industrious over the whole earth."

Sniper Attack

Is there any more bizarre gun story than the one reported yesterday where a former Navy SEAL was shot and killed by a former veteran on a shooting range in Texas?  That Chris Kyle--the "Most Lethal Sniper in U.S. Military History," as he described himself--ended up as yet another victim of gun violence shows up the absurd and dangerous gun culture we embrace.  Look at the NRA myths that this story exposes:

Arming yourself makes you safe

Trained shooters can protect themselves (and others)

Recreational shooting is a harmless hobby

Background checks are unnecessary (Kyle's murderer suffered from mental illness)

We need only to read the news each day to see how disturbed our relationship is to guns.  When one of our best shooters is himself gunned down, things have obviously gone too far.

Hillary Salute

The British band Herman's Hermits released "I'm Henry the Eighth, I Am" in 1965, a song that stands out in my mind for its 3-syllable pronunciation of the word "Henry"--Hen/e/ry rather than Hen/ry.  I thought of this syllabication when I reflected on Hillary Clinton's resignation yesterday as Secretary of State.  Here's the new rendition:

I'm Hillary of State, I am,
Hillary of State, I am, I am,
I retired just the other day
Someone started a new PAC they say
To help me run for the President
To follow in the footsteps of old Bill
I would be the first girl in the job
Yes, sirree, that's me, that's Hill.

Second verse
Changed from the first.

I'm Hillary of State, I am,
Hillary of State, I am, I am,
I've been on the scene for years and years
Toughing out the scorn and all the jeers
But now I sit in the catbird seat
Confident, secure in who I am
All those old, white guys in Washington
Soon will have to call me Ma'am.

Victims

Yesterday's emails from gun safety groups implored me to watch Gabrielle Giffords' "inspiring" testimony before the Senate Judiciary Committee.  While I understand the use of this adjective as it describes her courage and perseverance, my adjective would be different: "heartbreaking"comes closer to the presentation I watched.  For this once lively, articulate Congresswoman from Arizona could barely read better than the children gunned down last month in Connecticut.

The victims of gun violence in America include many more than those who actually die each year.  Disabilities abound as lives are shattered every day.  Emotional trauma passes from one generation to the next in families destroyed by this scourge.  And communities are torn apart by the dangers of an armed society.

Whenever I'm asked to sign a gun safety petition, I always write in the comment section, "End the madness."  For this is what it is.  Our arrogance and stupidity are breathtaking--that we don't look to other countries as models, that we disregard the views of our police and public safety officers, and that we think the rights of gun owners supersede the safety of the rest of us.

Wayne LaPierre said yesterday that "it's time to throw an immediate blanket of security around our children" by installing armed security officers in schools.  How about throwing a blanket around guns instead, keeping them in as few hands as possible with strict regulations?

I for one would feel a lot safer.

The Garden in Winter

"Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius."
- Pietro Aretino

"When the bold branches
Bid farewell to rainbow leaves --
Welcome wool sweaters."
- B. Cybrill

"'Hear! Hear!' screamed the jay from a neighboring tree, where I had heard a tittering for some time, 'winter has a concentrated and nutty kernel, if you know where to look for it.'"
- Henry David Thoreau

We the People

This week the wind seemed to shift.  From President Obama's inaugural speech to Hillary Clinton's testimony to the Pentagon's lifted combat ban, progressives are no longer obsolete.  Bob Dylan must know how we feel.  Sing to the tune of "The Times They Are A-Changin'":

Come gather round people
Our time is at hand
A new breeze is blowin'
Across the whole land
Our president spoke
And he made a command
That it's time for us to start livin'
The words that our forefathers wrote long ago
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
Get out of the way
If you can't accept all
For the tent that's our country
Grows bigger
And the sooner you get it the better we'll be
For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn
The sides are made clear
Cling to the past
Source of all fear
Block out the noises
You don't want to hear
The old world is
Gradually fadin'
Freedom and rights always win in the end
For the times they are a-changin'.

And The Winner Is. . .

Yesterday's hearings on the attacks in Benghazi featured many aspiring actors.  Here are my Oscar winners:

The "Pontificating Attack Dog" Award to Rand Paul for puffing himself up as he blasted Secretary Clinton.

The "Grumpy, Tired Old Man" Award to John McCain for being exactly that.

The "Diplomat With Dignity" Award to Hillary Clinton for intelligence, clarity, and grace.

The "We Know Better Than You, Little Lady" Award to most of the Republicans, especially Senator Ron Johnson, Representative Joe Wilson, and Representative Dana Rohrabacher for their obnoxious denigration of Secretary Clinton.

The "Most Overstated and Irrelevant Part of the Story" Award to Susan Rice's appearances on the Sunday morning news shows, a red herring if there ever was one.

A Dog's Life: Cassidy

"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened."

- Anatole France

Clarence Thomas Speaks

In the midst of an historic week in Washington--as President Obama took on gun violence and the NRA--came this unrelated nugget: Clarence Thomas was heard speaking during a Supreme Court session, breaking seven years of silence.  Imagine.  As one of our more bizarre public figures, Thomas gets his own song today.  Sing to the tune of "Three Blind Mice":

One mute judge,
One mute judge,
Finally talked,
Finally talked.
The other day he told a joke,
We all were shocked that he really spoke,
This guy who's known for drinking a Coke
Is one mute judge.

At Long Last

The NRA and its supporters can wrap themselves in the second amendment all they want and stand on the wrong--and immoral--side of history.  President Obama and Vice President Biden have done what's right.

Leadership at last.

Binders Full of Statesmen

The various flaps over President Obama's cabinet picks are off the mark, I think.  I'm glad he chose John Kerry for Secretary of State (and not Susan Rice) and Chuck Hagel for Secretary of Defense (and not Michele Flournoy).  I'm also glad he's tapping Vice President Biden for major initiatives.  Why?  We live in extraordinary times and face extraordinary challenges, and we need larger-than-life people with lots of experience as public servants to do the work.  I'm only sorry we don't have more such people.

We especially don't have many women.  Hillary Clinton is one of the few right now who fit the description, and she has served impeccably.  Olympia Snow is another woman currently not in government who has the requisite stature and experience.

The fact is, we need people who are more than "really smart" or "really talented."  We need experienced statesmen and, where possible, stateswomen who have worked in government for decades and who understand Washington.

That the resulting selections are white men may be regrettable.  But if they can do the work, that's what really matters.

Joe Biden Rising

Here's to Joe Biden.  He's emerged as President Obama's best emissary and negotiator during both the fiscal cliff talks and now in discussions on gun violence.  Perhaps this development is a sign that the President will use the executive branch more in his second term rather than defer to our hapless Congress.

With the American folk song "Old Joe Clark" as our guide, we salute the Vice President (and hope that he continues to take charge--rather than the Congressional leaders who've gotten us nowhere):

Joe Biden he made a deal
With the other side,
Stepped into a big old mess
Of talks that had just died.

Hello Joe Biden
Good-bye Harry Reid,
Hello Joe Biden
It's time for you to lead.

Joe Biden he is our man
Taking on tough stuff,
Trying to enact a ban
'Cause we've had enough.

Hello Joe Biden
Good-bye Nancy P,
Hello Joe Biden
You now hold the key.

Joe Biden he listens well
Gets along with all,
Doesn't demonize his foes
Up and down the Mall.

Hello Joe Biden
Good-bye Mitch and John,
Hello Joe Biden
We're so glad you won.

Medical Malarkey

A headline on nytimes.com last night caught my attention: "Test for Cervical Cancer May Detect Other Types."  I clicked on the article eager to learn which cancers might now be treatable.  The news sounded promising.

I should have known better, for a few sentences later came the usual let-down: "But the research is early, years away from being used in medical practice, and there are caveats."

Sometimes I feel like telling medical researchers to keep their work to themselves until they have proven methods of treatment.  Such thoughts are ignorant, I realize, for disseminating information is crucial to advancing knowledge.  Nonetheless, we read these sorts of stories over and over again, raising false hopes for what's available now.

Medical research and its accompanying reporting are full of misleading, confusing information.  Take this recent one, for example.  After being told for years that most of us need to lose weight, we read in The Times that a "Study Suggests Lower Mortality Risk for Overweight People."  "Fat per se is not as bad as we thought," says one researcher, while another says, "We wouldn't want  people to think, 'Well, I can take a pass and gain more weight.'"

The contradictions are almost laughable.  It's hard to know what to do.  But continuing to view our medical profession as somehow holier than thou is misguided. 

I think the emperor wears no clothes.