Posted on September 18, 2008
It’s been a while since I’ve blogged political, but that doesn’t mean the political scene hasn’t deserved comment. It means I’m still thinking things over. I’m thinking about Sarah Palin for instance.
I’m thinking how I should be proud that a woman is running for Veep. I’m thinking how she gave a stellar performance with her acceptance speech at the Republican National Convention in Minneapolis a couple weeks ago. And how she’s electrified the current media scene.
But the truth is . . . I can’t get excited. Or enrolled. In fact, I can’t get beyond her nasally tone of voice, her bobbing head, her one-liners delivery.
I realize these are superficial qualities if she is really a good candidate. But then the focus on pit bulls and lipstick and pigs and Hollywood partisanship is also superficial. So is the fact that all the candidates occasionally make a slip of the tongue that the other party capitalizes on. Or that they’re so busy slamming each other in commercials that it reeks of lunacy. It all belongs in a Las Vegas comedy act.
In the past three days, the market has lost almost a thousand points. Major companies in America have lost not only assets but credibility. The government is lending more and more at the taxpayer’s expense. None of this is superficial. Yet I haven’t heard a serious word about the state of the economy from anyone, shrill voice or no.
Which means that I’d listen to anyone with the voice of an angel or the voice of a bandsaw, if he or she could offer a viable way to dig out of today’s hole.
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Posted on September 17, 2008
My son, Kevin, turned forty on September 11. He’s never been particularly attached to birthday celebrations, so I wasn’t sure what to do about the occasion. In the end, I honored it by sending his girlfriend and him to a special, all expenses paid concert this past July.
But as August edged into September I wondered what Kevin was planning for his actual fortieth birthday. Was there to be a party with university colleagues and members of his band? Were he and his girlfriend going out for a private dinner? Was there a surprise in the offing?
By phoning his girlfriend, I learned none of these activities was planned. So then I called and asked Kevin if he wanted his brother, his brother’s partner, and me to come to Fargo and take him to dinner. He didn’t waste a second in responding, and his response was so out of character that I took it for real.
You see, “Awesome” usually isn’t in Kevin’s daily vocabulary. Neither are the efusive emails I’ve received since that phone call.
So we made plans and showed up on September 11 as the tribute to those fallen in the Twin Towers took place. Our celebration of life wasn’t meant to demean theirs. But my son laid claim to the date long before terrorists did, and he’ll never again be able to celebrate without the shadow of their actions falling across his day.
It was a week ago tonight I packed for this event. Since then life has intervened at a whirlwind rate as we all returned to our specific lives. Yet, another thank-you email from Kevin today reminded me how important it is to bring our separate lives together to celebrate family events.
We’re an academic, an almost ready for Social Security mom, and two entrepreneurs who squeeze twenty-six hours of work into a twenty-four hour day. We live hundreds of miles from each other. We sometimes don’t understand what the other is about. But for two days in Fargo last week, we remembered we were also family.
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Posted on September 16, 2008
My son Keith, his partner Chris, and I had occasion this past weekend to spend time in the Minneapolis-St. Paul Airport (MSP) on our way to see Keith’s brother, Kevin, who was celebrating his fortieth birthday. It made me think of all the airports I’ve been in recently. Truthfully, I like MSP the best.
It’s comfortable; there are lounge chairs — really comfy lounge chairs — in many locations. It’s quiet; most of the floor is carpeted to mute the noise of roller bags. It’s upscale; there is a mini-mall inside with more than just the usual fast food places to eat.
Additionally, I found a lounge on the second floor, above the usual airport din, where real stretch-out couches and lounge chairs invite people who are serious about being quiet. It was called the “Quiet Lounge.” Reading is allowed, but there’s no cell phones, no chatting, no loud gum chewing. Were I trapped in MSP in a crippling snow storm, that’s where I’d hide.
For the fun of it, here are my impressions of other airports I’ve passed through in the past year or so.
Denver – strictest security; plan extra time to remove most of your clothing. Atlanta – craziest layout; plan extra time to get from one terminal to another. Philadelphia – Most helpful security personnel. (This really doesn’t say much!) Tahiti – quaint but efficient. Tahiti Nui Airlines, however, takes first place for service. Detroit – best remodeling effort with a tram to move passengers from one gate to another and an amazing water display.
Cincinnati – most original boarding system. Call it the herd approach. Savannah – most patriotic, as passengers and guests stand and applaud when a serviceperson in uniform passes. South Bend – most unpredictable. Don’t have your plane get cancelled on a Notre Dame football weekend because you’ll have no other options. Winnipeg – most utilitarian. Fargo – Cutest small town airport, due to a current remodeling effort.
We all know flying isn’t what it used to be. The planes are packed because there are fewer flights, the seats are close together, and the amenities are non-existent. So maybe the new criterion in choosing an airline is the airport you have to deal with. If so, don’t go anywhere near Chicago’s O’Hare. Unless you’re a masochist.
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Posted on September 15, 2008
Time flies . . . I remember my great Aunt Cel saying that when I was a youngster and thought the only time that flew was play time. Other time dragged.
But somewhere in the course of my own life, I began to understand. I don’t know exactly when that was, but one day I woke and realized how many years had passed while I wasn’t paying attention. I had been busy with children and a home and a half-time career. I grabbed solace in a book on the run, fretted over bills, attended children’s activities while the days sped by. Back then there wasn’t time to appreciate them.
Now my children are approaching middle age (What does that make me?); I’ve had more money than month for a long time; and my career is still half-time, although it isn’t the freelance writing career I had for a quarter century. I’m now a financial manager. Go figure.
So just when did I notice that time flies? I think it was after life’s struggles became less prominent in my day-to-day existence, after it was less about happiness and more about satisfaction, less about achievement and more about appreciation.
Maybe it’s one of the benefits of growing older. There’s time to value the sunrise, green grass in September, the fact that if the stock market tanks you can still survive, the voice of an old friend, family photos that span decades, beauty in a piece of music. Each day is a pearl on an endless necklace of them, each to be fingered lovingly before moving on.
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Posted on September 8, 2008
Today I’m returning to regular piano lessons, which have been somewhat discombobulated over the summer what with traveling and holidays that fall on Monday and traveling some more.
I’m currently getting to know the key called C# major. It’s got four sharps: F, G, C, D, which for the uninitiated means there are a lot of black keys involved. I’m working on a blues piece, and I really like blues. Which is compensation for all those sharps to remember.
Piano is a difficult instrument. Maybe others are too, but I have no first-hand experience with them. However, I have seven years’ worth of lessons and practicing and playing with my instrument, and this qualifies me as a late intermediate student. I’ll say I’m late!
At times I think about giving up, since learning piano is hard at this age. But what I’ve spent in terms of time and energy and money and — yes — even the price of a Kawai grand piano urges me on when I slump.
There are approximately 32 major and minor keys. The simplest is C major, which has no black keys involved. From there, each key adds a black key or two or three etc. So when you get to studying C# major you’re way beyond the usual pale. Looking at it that way, I’m well along the way.
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Posted on September 7, 2008
A few days ago Earl and I saw “Jersey Boys,” the musical based on the lives of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. It has already won the Tony in its category, so the show doesn’t need my accolades to increase attendance. Yet, I’m compelled to comment.
Most of the “action” takes place in the nineteen sixties. During those years I graduated from university, married, maybe even grew up. I listened faithfully to radio all along the way. In fact, I’d been listening to radio faithfully since 1954, when Tennessee Ernie Ford’s rendition of “Sixteen Tons” hit the number one spot on the charts. I’ve been listening ever since.
So, of course, I remember Frankie and his friends. The falsetto voice that was their trademark can’t be missed. “Jersey Boys” makes great use of it. And, while the “story” is told in dialogue, the real story is the music that member Bob Guardio and others wrote for the group.
The dialogue is dense with drama: time in prison, struggling as musicians, laundering money, having affairs, a hint of possible mob involvement, the death from drugs of a beloved daughter — while, at the same time, the group is changing the sound of popular music itself.
I left the theater wondering if all the incidents packed into the “story” part were as true as the lyrics to all the songs the Four Seasons recorded. So I went to Google® to see what I could find out. The songs were there, but I found little information about some of the story line. One of the original Four Seasons, Bob Guardio, was involved in creating “Jersey Boys,” so maybe he had inside information. Or maybe creative license was called upon.
No matter. “Jersey Boys” is wonderful if you grew up in that era. It’s wonderful if you didn’t too.
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Posted on September 6, 2008
Prior to the start of the Democratic National Convention in Denver I decided I would watch both it and the Republican National Convention the same amount of time, hour for hour. It’s the same belief in learning about both sides of any important issue that also prompted me to program one conservative and one liberal radio station in my car. It also makes me listen to both classical music and Creedence Clearwater Revival.
So far, I can hardly stand to listen to either the right or the left on radio for more than thirty seconds, but the conventions held my interest these past two weeks. So much so, that I stopped blogging during the RNC. This is not to be construed that I liked that convention better or thought those speeches more spellbinding. It does mean I’m coming out from under my rock and getting interested in the campaign for president once again. (I had been glad when the Olympics knocked our race off center stage.) It also means there’s work to be done.
I realize that national conventions are about preaching to the choir, about rallying the troops already aligned with your cause, about getting those stragglers whom you think should be in the fold to comply. I never understood this before these past two conventions.
But after seeing how the Clintons were given air time in the hope that their eighteen million supporters would vote Democratic, I get it. After see how McCain chose someone completely out of left field to appeal to a certain base of the GOP, I get it.
The thing is: I didn’t get much substance from either convention. Only promises to stop our dependence on foreign oil, to cut taxes, to revamp health care. The “How” piece of it was noticeably missing.
So the work that’s left to do isn’t about the candidates spouting their favorite phrases. It’s about my digging and digging some more into what they really believe on the issues involved. It’s what we should all do if we want to be informed voters. The pity is, probably most people will vote on the basis of sounds bites instead of sound research.
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Posted on August 31, 2008
Calendar-wise, I know summer sticks around for another three weeks, but I’ve always thought that Labor Day, which is tomorrow, ends the season. Maybe it’s because school starts again, which means the weather always gets hot but then turns. Maybe it’s because I see our flowers and shrubs and trees weighted under the blooms of the past weeks and begin to let go. Maybe it’s only a mental construction.
Regardless, I turn to reminiscing about the faded summer. What did we do? What will we remember down the road?
For me, the most overriding thing was the weather. It was absolutely spectacular here in southwestern Michigan and reminded me of a song from Lerner and Lowe’s musical “Camelot.” Words to the song describe how “July and August cannot be too hot” and “The rain may never fall till after sundown.” It was that way this summer at River House.
It’s odd for me to say weather was the most memorable thing, but it impacts all other things. Good weather makes them more special; bad weather forces the event itself to be special. Given the great weather we had this summer, the other events I’ll remember are our trip to go fishing in northern Saskatchewan (which also had remarkable weather while we were there), our own home’s wonderful foliage, and a family reunion just up the road in Saugatuck.
We had our home up for sale, but so far haven’t had a serious offer. No matter. It isn’t as if we are dying to leave. We would like to downsize, but if that’s not possible then this is the place I want to be. I will say farewell to summer tomorrow, look forward to the colors that are autumn, and batten the hatches for what the Farmer’s Almanac describes as a winter colder and snowier than usual. It’s a fair price to pay for the summer of 2008.
Posted on August 28, 2008
There are a lot of coincidences here; yet I wonder if they really are coincidental. I’m referring to the final night of the Democratic National Convention in Denver, Colorado. The one taking place tonight in Invesco Stadium, which holds approximately 75,000 fans.
It seems to me that this convention was strategically placed after the summer Olympics in China (Who would be watching Denver during the Games?), and before Labor Day. Was it a fluke that Obama’s acceptance speech was slated for the exact anniversary of Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech forty-five years ago. I think not.
We can say Obama’s resume is slight in accomplishments and that he’s running on charisma. I wouldn’t necessarily disagree. At the same time, this is the man who derailed a sure-shot Hillary Clinton from the White House race, who commandeered thousands upon thousands of people to register and join his camp, who might — tonight — provide a solid plan for implementing his dreams. I look forward to this last bit of politics.
Regardless, I’ve found these past four days to be fascinating. Mostly theatre, little reality. Preaching to the choir. I wrote previously that I wished the conventions would be cancelled, since the presumptive nominees on both side were already at it tooth and nail. However, after watching the past four days I see that the convention isn’t so much about the general public as it is making sure those inside the party are all in line with the presidential candidate. It’s the inside version of caucuses and primaries leading to a swell of support that warns the Republicans on the other side.
Hillary and Bill did their share; Teddy Kennedy and Joe Biden did theirs. So did the homage to Martin Luther King Jr. It remains to Barack Obama to live up to the advance billing. His speech is a mere six minutes away. The time in now.
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Posted on August 27, 2008
This is Day Three of the Democratic National Convention, and I just finished watching former President Clinton speak. I wondered what he would do, given his desire for the limelight and his penchant for being unmanageable. In the end, however, he delivered what was expected in terms of creating party unity for the campaign ahead.
I wasn’t sure he would rise to the occasion, so I admire him for it. I’m not a huge Clinton fan, but credit is due where credit is due. Whether he and his wife campaign vigorously for Obama is another question, but at least Democrats can leave Denver feeling some sense of unity. In the weeks to come, if the Clintons can put money where their mouths are, it would be a very good thing for the party.
Where I live, things don’t get hoppin’ until after 10:00 PM, so I didn’t see Biden’s speech or the talking heads’ summaries of the night’s activities. I’ve learned that Obama’s acceptance speech is slated for 10:00 PM tomorrow night, so I’ll be in the same position of starting out strong in the beginning but opting for bedtime before it’s over.
The only good thing about this is that I’ve promised myself that I’ll watch the Republican National Convention, hour for hour, for the same amount of time I’ve allotted the Democrats. It won’t be hard, because that convention is only one time zone away while Denver was two. If John McCain, doesn’t lull me to sleep, I’ll probably stay awake for his entire acceptance speech.
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