Heads I win, Tails....I Was Never Here.

I’m fifty years old. Big deal, right? A lot of people are, or have been, or will be fifty years old. But recently, I realized that if one little event 107 years ago had gone just a little bit differently, I would never have seen fifty, or forty, or 10, or anything. This little event that had such a great bearing on my life had the same bearing on my father’s life, my grandfather’s life, and my kids’ lives. So what was this little event? A coin toss. And the implications of that coin toss will go through my mind every time I am called on to make a decision by choosing between heads and tails while a coin goes flipping through the air.

As the story goes, My great Grandfather and his younger brother were middle-aged bachelors who lived next door to each other on family land in Saybrook Connecticut. Because they were confirmed bachelors, and thrifty New Englanders, they shared a cleaning woman. One day, the cleaning woman, whose name I should probably know but don’t, died unexpectedly. Now, she left behind the typical cleaning lady stuff, a feather duster, a bucket of soapy water, and an 18 year old daughter. My great grandfather and his brother, being concerned gentlemen, decided that the right thing to do would be to honor the memory of their cleaning woman by marrying her daughter, thereby caring for her.

The question of who would actually marry her was best settled, they decided, by the flip of a coin. Now I don’t know if it was a single flip or best two out of three, but the result was that my great grandfather married the young woman who, one would hope, had some sort of say in the matter. The reason I say that I should probably know the name of the dead cleaning woman is because she was my great-great grandmother.

So, in 1890 at the age of fifty, my great grand father was well on his way to being the last of his line, the last of my line. If that coin had taken one half spin more or less, my grandfather, father, me, and my kids, along with aunts, uncles, cousins, etc., would never have existed. Any effect or influence that we have had, good or bad, would have been lost. There is something a bit humbling about knowing that your very existence was dependent on the way a man called a coin toss 107 years ago… I’m sure glad he lost!

"Chaiyya Chaiyya" - A.R. Rahman and Don Black

"Chaiyya Chaiyya" - A.R. Rahman and Don Black: "1. Chaiyya Chaiyya - A.R. Rahman and Don Black


"

A Vacation for Lame Duck and Lame Dick

It has been a tough few months for the White House. Being criticized for the numerous scandals, and watching so many political allies and supporters indicted (or shot) must take an tremendous amount of energy. Top that off with an approval rating that, if you exclude members of the Bush clan and people working in the Oil industry, must barely enter into double digits and I think everyone would agree that the President and VP could use a good break. I know that the president gets a lot of criticism for taking more vacation time than any other president in recent memory, but what other president has tried to spread democracy to the Middle East. Hey, this is a part of the world where a cartoon can cause weeks of riots and death. It's hard to imagine that the foundations of democracy, like Freedom of Speech for example, are going to be received there with cheering and flowers the way our troops were in Iraq. If Bush is going to democratize the world in his last three years, he is going to need all the rest he can get. He is, after all, a lame duck.
Cheney will also need to be well rested because his credibility is pretty battered after almost offing his friend and Republican money guy. If he is going to regain any credibility, even if only with his own party, it is going to take a lot of energy. He is, you might say, a lame Dick.
Although it is hard to imagine any legislators but those in the reddest of red states wanting these two around before the mid-term election, they may need to be in campaign mode over the next few months. They should be refreshed and ready to go just in case.
I don't think that pulling weeds on his ranch or riding his bicycle past hordes of protesters is really going to do it for the president. He needs to go some place where he can work off some aggression. What is better for working out aggression than shooting things? I think it would be a great idea if he went hunting with the vice president. Yeah, that could be the best thing for him and for the American people. Hey Dick, since I’d like to do my part for the American people, if you take the president hunting the drinks are on me.

Scooter and Shooter

Guns Don't Shoot People; Dick Cheney Shoots People

In an effort to prove that the Bush Administration is firmly in support of both the 2nd Amendment and tort reform, Dick Cheney exercised his right to bear arms by shooting a lawyer. Back when he selected himself as Bush's running mate the news agencies all agreed that Cheney would lend some "gravitas" to the campaign. It seems that lately there is more of the "grave" to Cheney than gravitas and by now it should be clear to most intelligent people that Dick Cheney is a horrible person.
The five deferments he received during the Vietnam War so that he could continue a mediocre academic career were just the first clue to a life that has been all about looking out for number one. What ever happened to the days when we could at least pretend that our public servants had some noble calling to foster the common good? Like too many of our politicians, Cheney is the perfect poster children for rampant self-interest. Everything he and his boss have done in office, from the obsene tax cuts for the rich to misrepresentation of the situation in Iraq, have been calculated to increase the wealth and power of themselves and their pals. The private hunting ground where, out of shape, rich, white guys can shoot nearly tame birds is the perfect metaphor for the world Cheney wants.
Wrong as it might be for those of us members of the proletariate to find satisfaction in a hunting accident, there is something of poetic justice in the thought of members of the over-privileged class turning guns on each other. I am sure it must have been tramatic for big Dick though. I have little doubt that as the army of doctors who stand watch over our vice-president's inadequate heart were rushing to the aid of the fallen sportsman, an army of spin-doctors who stand watch over our vice-president's inadequate spirit were just as busy. Oh, to be a fly on the wall when the conversations about how to handle this delicate situation were being made. There are certainly some questions that need to be answered. Why did it take so long for the news to get out? Would the White House even have let the news out if they hadn't been asked about it first? But really, is there anyone out there who actually needs these questions answered?

Will there be a wing for Cliff Notes At the George W Bush Library?

Does anyone else find it strange that former presidents are always honored with libraries after their terms are over? What do most presidents have to do with libraries anyway? Several presidents, most notably the current occupant of 1500 Pennsylvania Avenue, don't seem to have read many books. he Bush library fund has already garnered $200 million; that's about $1million for every page he's read in his life.
Certainly even some of our better read presidents would more appropriately lend their names to things other than libraries; the Bill Clinton Hooters comes to mind. Shouldn't, after all, this honor say something meaningful about the president's personality? Wouldn't Gerald Ford rather have a golf course named after him, or Jimmy Carter a homeless shelter. Maybe Ronald Reagan could be memorialized with an Alzheimers Center, or perhaps an Alzheimers center (sorry, cheap joke.) The highest tribute, of course, would be to find something that was particularly indicative of that president's administration. They kind of got it right when they named the Kennedy space center after the president who was the most responsible for our taking the lead in the race to the moon. And the interstate highway system seems a fitting tribute to Ike. Unfortunately, given his economic record, the homeless shelter might still be most appropriate for Carter. I guess the question would be "What could possibly be the most fitting tribute to Dubyah?" Considering the enormous amount of money that will be raised, a library seems a waste of resources for a president who won't even read a newspaper.
But what will be the one thing about his administration that will most need memorializing. Nothing to do with education. His hideous "No Child Left Behind" program would preclude that.
And although it might be appropriate, naming a village of cardboard shelters for the poor after him would be unfair to Herbert Hoover, a man who worked hard for that honor.
So the question remains, "What would be the most appropriate tribute to George W. Bush?" Wait a minute. I've got it. How about a cemetery?

An eye for an eye or two for a dollar.

I had been pretty negligent about having my eyes checked over the past several years. More specifically, I hadn't had a real eye exam since I out processed from the Navy fifteen years ago. There are a lot of reasons to have regular eye exams, and the only reason I hadn't was that I didn't get around to making an appointment. Finally I did and I went to the the exam. I did pretty well on the eye charts. Despite using some weak reading glasses, my 48 year-old eyes cruised through the check-up. Then came the look inside. The doctor noticed a scratch on my right retina. He gave me an explanation of what he thought it might be and told me that, even though he was 95% sure it was nothing, I should have it checked out by a specialist. He made the appointment for me and sent me on my way.
Now, I don't consider myself an alarmist, but 95% sure meant that he was 5% unsure. And 95% nothing was 5% something. For the three weeks up to the appointment with the specialist I kept telling myself it was nothing and kept imagining it was something. I would walk around with my right eye closed to see just how much I needed that depth perception deal anyway. I even pictured myself with an eyepatch, but that look soon included a wooden leg an a parrot as well, which seemed the wrong way to go for a high school English teacher, except of course when reading Treasure Island.
When the specialist examined my eye he said that the scar was really two contusions that had been there for a long time, possibly since my childhood. He asked if I could remember any trauma to my eye when I was a child. I didn't have to think too hard. Four decades earlier I had done some trauma to my eye. some incredibly stupid trauma. It was in the basement of Tim Bonnets house in Edina Minnesota where I was an eight-year old sharpshooter with a mission to assassinate an unsuspecting plastic soldier. I got the victim in the middle of the BB gun's sight and fired. Unfortunately, while looking through the sight I failed to notice the rock wall behind the enemy soldier. No sooner had I pulled the trigger than the ricocheting BB hit me square in the eye. The soldier escaped un scathed.
Despite the fact that my eye hurt for what seemed like years afterward, especially in the bright sunlight, I never told my mother about the incident until a week ago. She asked me if I had ever told my father, and I told her I hadn't told anyone. She asked me if I had told Tim's parents, and I told her again that I hadn't told anyone. She asked me why I hadn't told anyone and I told her that, even at eight years-old, I knew what I had done was really stupid.
The positive thing that came out of this whole thing was that the ophthalmic photographer who took pictures of the retinas of my eyes is an artist who has some pretty neat art based on retinas, a little weird, but kind of cool. Check out the link for PJ Saine.