?`s and ANNEswers

Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

Thankful

Earl and I just returned from our annual trek to Denver, Colorado, to visit my aunt and uncle and their grown children. And their children’s children. We’ve gone there for Thanksgiving for the past several years . . . I’ve lost count. And for some of those years my own son, Kevin, has joined the festivities. So it’s something of a family reunion from my perspective.

We had a wonderful time, even though all of us are aging and less capable than in years past. But that’s only on the physical level. On the mental level and even more on the humor level, we are still completely intact.

The time we spent in Denver was punctuated with intellectual discussion and ribald humor. It always is. It was punctuated with dialogue between the conservatives and the liberals among us. It always is. It was also punctuated with simply silly commentary (read The Onion here.) where both sides of the political spectrum issued loud guffaws in agreement. And maybe that was the best part.

I believe my family survives political, economic, and social dissent because we laugh not only at the current political situation but also at ourselves. We disagree and poke fun of another’s political point of view. We give and take. And in the end, especially at Thanksgiving, we appreciate coming together to recognize we are a family with a common history but also with disparate ideas. For that, I am thankful.

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Notre Dame Football

Earl has tickets to various Notre Dame home games, one of them being the Saturday before Thanksgiving, today, when the weather is iffy at best. It’s deep into November and anything is possible.

Today a foot of snow was not only possible but actual. Even if laborers removed the snow from the seats, they could only push it to the row in front of the seats. So it was question of whether your butt or your ankles would be snow-covered.

I opted for neither. Instead my plan was to approach Earl with the proposition that I, who doesn’t really like football, would sit in our family room with him during the game and act enthusiastically. I would cheer when appropriate; I would also boo when appropriate.

Additionally, I would prepare a meal fit for a king (spare ribs, baked sweet potatoes, fabulous salad) and serve it at half-time, so that Earl could save money by not taking me to dinner after the game. He could also save on parking.

Earl heard me out and agreed to my terms. It’s a good thing I have a lot of ironing, because that’s what I’ll be doing while I hold up my end of the bargain. At least my feet and butt will be warm.

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Limbo Land

The word ‘limbo’ has a variety of theological connotations, but I prefer a more general take. According to one statement in Wikipedia (It also gives credence to the religious points of view), limbo is any status where a person or project is held up and nothing can be done.

That describes me for the past week. I’ve been detained, held up, unavailable . . . and it has been absolutely wonderful. Even though the weather disappointed, the stock market disappointed more, and the state of the economy disappointed the most, I had a wonderful week.

Maybe I’m living in my own world, but I don’t think so. I’m living in limbo, where I haven’t had a lot of pressing engagements or commitments, where I can enjoy nature, where I can take an afternoon nap without worrying about deadlines if the mood strikes. Where all my pressing projects have been held up.

Actually this lull in my life this is due to the fact that this is a slow time of year in my job. Everyone else who works with me at Fred Flare, Inc. is scurrying around, but my busy time is the first quarter of the New Year, not the last quarter of the old. So I fade out, relax, do my Christmas shopping with no stress, and enjoy limbo. I recommend it as a way to rev one’s personal engine, take stock, and generally gather energy for when the proverbial other shoe drops.

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Black Friday

Even though I work for an online retail company, the significance of Black Friday was lost on me until recently. Whenever I heard the term, it reminded me of the famous Black Tuesday of October 29, 1929 when the stock market crashed. (Hmmm!) Unemployment soared (Double hmmm!), and the world sank into depression. (Triple hmmm!) So I couldn’t understand why the day after Thanksgiving was called Black Friday.

I was aware that traditionally many people start their holiday shopping on that day. I knew traffic in all kinds of stores is brisk with retailers doing everything in their power to attract customers. They decorate their establishments for Christmas in October. They spend big bucks on advance advertising, open early on Black Friday, and offer deep discounts.

But I didn’t make the connection that Black Friday got its name because it signals that period of the year when retailers’ bottom lines move from red to black. When many companies begin to see money in their coffers and the sales of the previous eleven months pale by comparison. So, in this case, black stands for profitable, something that is desirable, instead of something that is bleak.

I’m crossing my fingers that this year’s BF holds true to form.

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My Favorite Noise

Earl and I have different work habits. He likes both the radio and the television on as he hunches over the computer in his office. He likes them loud too. Doesn’t want to miss anything. In fact, if I’m away from the house I’m apt to return and find all three televisions on and turned to the same channel.

Me? I hardly watch television, much less have it as a companion while I work. I listen to the radio only in my car and find solitude the best way to get my work done. Even the chirping of the birds that live in the tree outside my window can be a distraction.

This morning Earl left the house around eight, and since then I’ve been basking in the quietness. The TVs all stare blankly at me. The annoying AOL voice that says “You’ve got mail” is mute. So is the telephone. There are no timers dinging, no dishwasher whooshing, no clothes dryer beeping. Only the occasion sound of warm air escaping from the heating system.

It won’t last, because the man who mows our lawn will be by soon for one last clean-up. He has got to have the loudest equipment and has been known to work directly under my office window when I’m on a conference call or trying to balance a budget. Then I’ll hear the sound of a car radio coming down the street and know that Earl is home.

But for this morning, I’ve truly enjoyed my favorite noise: Silence.

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Order in the Universe

I am often amazed at the way things fit together in this world. For instance, every time I purchase coffee in a to-go cup, that cup fits handily in the cup holder in my car. It doesn’t seem to matter where I buy the coffee or what model car I’m driving. Obviously, car manufacturers and paper product manufacturers talked with each other about this.

I suspect those who build trucks talk with those who build bridges, so that the trucks are able to pass under without shaving their roofs off. It doesn’t seem to matter if the bridge is in Arizona or New Hampshire; truckers are confident they can get where they’re going in one piece.

Furniture manufacturers probably talk with those who make doors to insure their product will fit through various openings. Zipper producers check in with clothing designers to know how many inches zippers should be. Gas pumps fit into gas tanks with ease even though they’re probably made by different companies.

So what I don’t understand is this: why can’t clothing designers agree on the meaning of small, medium, large, and extra-large?

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Tuning Out

It’s been a week since Barack Obama won the election for President of the United States. That night I called all my Democratic friends and reveled with them in his win via telephone lines. (I live with a Republican, so glee was not a mutual emotion at my house.)

At the same time, I’m also on media overload. So I’ve turned off the TV and only glanced at newspaper headlines that exclaim Rahm Emmanuel was named Chief of Staff, the first President-elect press conference was held, and the Obamas and Bushes met in cordial fashion. The thing is these are normal occurrences under the circumstances, and I don’t need or want to examine them under the eye of the relentless media microscope. My hope is that we are not going to be treated to a version of “Obama’s first November 12 as President-Elect,” “Obama’s first November 13 as President-Elect,” “Obama’s first . . . this; first that.”

Then tonight I read an article about how the 46 percent of our nation who voted for John McCain might be reacting like I am, only for a different reason. The article was based on interviews with McCain voters in Chicago, Obama’s home town, so they probably are subjected to a double dose of Obama-mania. And they want to tune out. They want to move on. I understand.

Their angst reminds me that I felt the same way in 2000 and 2004 as I do now. Only this time I’m on the winning side. Go figure.

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Veteran’s Day

My bank is closed today and the local newspaper announced a ceremony on the bluff at the Korean War Memorial to honor that war’s veterans. So, even though this holiday doesn’t seem to have the recognition of others, I know in subtle ways it’s Veteran’s Day.

We hear often how World War II’s vets, dubbed by Tom Brokaw the “greatest generation,” are passing away at alarming speed. It’s a function of the passing of time. At just last week I saw an article about the death of one of the world’s last World War I veterans. Again, time ran out.

I don’t have any statistics about how many veterans of all our wars are still living; I’m not sure I want to know. I do know the two World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, Afghanistan, and Iraq have certainly provided members for local VFWs for almost a century. The current situation, in particular, has done a remarkable job of swelling the eligibility lists for veterans’ organizations.

If we have to engage in war, I’m willing to have organizations exist that support returning veterans. At the same time, I’d love to see such organizations disappear altogether as a function of time because no new veterans were “minted” by the government’s foreign policies.

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Where Is Alma Jones?

When I was in grammar school, there were two African American students in my grade: Alma Jones and Gabrielle Jacquet. I didn’t spend a lot of time playing with either girl, as I had my own circle of friends; and pre-teens were a cliquish bunch even back then.

But I thought of Alma and Gabrielle this morning as I rang up my dear friend Carol, who shares my memories from that era. She also shares my political point of view today.

Of course, we were both excited that Barack Obama had won the Presidency. We’d talked about this for months; watched TV shows; devoured reading material; and kept our fingers crossed. We listened to debates and participated in a few ourselves.

Carol and I are of the age that literally grew up in the years where African Americans were called Negroes and sat in the back of the bus. As young adults we witnessed the strikes and marches of the civil rights movement. To this day, we remember exactly where we were when President Kennedy was assassinated. And when Dr. Martin Luther King was too.

So even though both of us are white, we were filled with emotion about seeing an African American attain the highest office of our land because for most of our lives this was not possible. “I wonder where Alma Jones is,” I said to Carol. She knew what I meant.

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Thoughts on Election Eve

As people continue to vote, I’m worried. Of course, I’m worried that my candidate might not be the winner. But mostly I’m worried about the emotional pitch of this campaign and that, no matter who wins, a good percentage of the electorate will be mad. We’ve been through hanging chads and registration requirements and accusations of stolen victories. We’ve been through blaming the media, the other party, the President.

In the process, we’ve become emotionally over-the-top as an electorate. I find it unattractive. It doesn’t strike me as in the best interests of democracy, where everyone who is eligible has a vote but then accepts the winner, regardless of whether it is the person one voted for.

First of all, our country has weathered every President’s term of office, regardless of whether that person was a “great” President or not. Four to eight years cannot undo what has been accomplished in the close to 250 years since we gained our independence.

In fact, four to eight years is a stretch. Let’s assume Obama wins and Congress goes Democratic. He really has only two years to make a mark, because the Republicans will be intent on making gains. If Obama and the Democrats don’t do well, the mid-term elections have the possibility of changing the composition of Congress, just as they did two years ago. I hope this realization lowers peoples’ anger quotients.

If McCain wins, he will probably have to work with a Democratic Congress. One possible benefit of this is that it provides a greater sense of checks and balances than if Obama wins. It may also provide for greater stalemate. Two years from now McCain would still be President, but how he and Congress work together could affect the mid-term Congressional races and victories.

That’s the wonderful way with our system. We can’t get too out of whack. So if anyone is angry about tonight’s outcome, he or she only has to get involved and look to the next two years. There are no dynasties here.

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