?`s and ANNEswers

Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

Flood Alert

We live on the St. Joe River. Usually it’s a benign presence about thirty feet from our back door. But in the last couple days it’s become a threat, if not to life as we know it then at least to everything we have stored in our lower level.

A foot of snow that melted almost overnight followed by torrential rain caused this situation. The river is overflowing its bank and seeking places to flood. It starts with seeking the lowest level of land, filling that up, and then climbing higher.

Fortunately, our house is built on the highest point of our property, while the side lot to the east is the lowest point. This means it’s currently flooded as the river overflows its bank and seeks equilibrium. This morning about a foot of our east lot was flooded; this evening, it’s entirely under water. It’s pretty scary, because when the lowest points are filled the river rises to the next higher points. That would be our flower beds around the house. After that, it’s the house itself.

The last flood that inundated this area was in 1983. We didn’t live here then, but we’ve learned that you needed a rowboat to get around. I have three kayaks hung on the garage ceiling, but I certainly hope I don’t have to use a single one. Cross your fingers!

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After New Hampshire

The second state to weigh in held its primary yesterday. Judging from the results, it’s going to be a long spring. Anybody who is interested has probably already learned the results, so I have other observations to ponder.

The efficacy of entrance and exit polls, for example. I’ve come to the conclusion these polls hold little value, except for CNN and Fox News, that offer 24/7 commentary and must fill all those airwave minutes. My solution to this is to have CNN and Fox on only part of each day. I mentioned this to Earl who said, “Yes, but think of the advertising revenues that would be lost.” He has a point, except if there were a shorter broadcasting day there would be less need for such revenues.

As a child, I remember television stations going off the air at various hours in the night. Anyone with insomnia was invited to watch the test pattern that was shown until the station returned to the air the next day. I suspect there were fewer insomniacs back then, and I think there is merit in returning to this approach to avoid innocuous drivel from air-headed reporters.

Another issue I have: the presidential race is so wide open that no candidate is truly going to be representative. Take the Democrats. There are three front runners, one of which won Iowa and the other which won New Hampshire. The third will probably win one of the upcoming states. So, at this point in time, regardless of which candidate wins he or she really represents about a third of the Democratic votes. The other two thirds may have to swallow hard to vote along party lines. This isn’t an overwhelming victory for any candidate.

Then there’s the candidates’ assessments of their individual situations. Each has been guilty of saying something like, “This is only one state; we’re in it for the long haul; and we’re going to win.” Maybe this spurs supporters to excitement, but the last part of this exhortation may or may not come to pass. I’ve always been a believer in setting the expectations at a reasonable level and then exceeding them, instead of claiming victory before the final vote is cast. I guess I haven’t arrived in the twenty-first century yet.

Finally, I’m tired of adjectives, and I’ve only been engaged in the sport of politics since January 2. But such phrases as “explosive comeback,” “upset,” and “clear lead” are way over the top for me. Clinton’s showing in New Hampshire may not have been what the pundits predicted, but I don’t think it can be categorized as either “explosive” or a “comeback.” I wish, along with limits on campaign funding and the number of months candidates can campaign, there was a third rule. It would be that no superlative adjective could ever be used. Which means that one of my sentences early in this commentary would say that “. . . I think there is merit in returning to this approach to avoid drivel from reporters.”

I’m willing to start campaign reform by cutting out adjectives if everyone else is.

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Good Times

Earl was cleaning out some boxes recently and came across three postcards I’d sent him a decade ago. I’d gone to France to visit some long-time friends and kept him apprised of our activities from time to time.

The first one showed a photograph of Montmarte, the Bohemian area of Paris, and said: “Having a cappuccino in an outdoor cafй. Veronique and I are going to museums and cafes and churches today. We walk everywhere. Tomorrow we leave for Toulon, in the south of France, where she and her family live. She was surprised that I brought so much luggage. Miss you, A.”

The second one revealed the craggy face of a soldier in the French Foreign Legion. Only in France, it’s called La Legion Etrangere, the Strange Legion. Knowing of Earl’s interest in these mercenaries for hire, I wrote: “We are traveling all over the south of France. They drive very fast here — 100 miles an hour is the speed limit. It’s as if a horde of wild mice inhabit the roads. Yesterday, believe it or not, we went to the headquarters of the French Foreign Legion. I signed you up. You report to Algiers. I’ll meet you there. Love, A.”

Finally, the last post card featured Monte Rognosa, a sun-drenched mountain between France and Italy. We had ventured over it, in spite of my fear of heights. I wrote: “Bernard, Eliane, and I crossed this mountain into Italy this morning. I found a house for your daughter and a great cappuccino cafй for us. You are in my thoughts. Love, A.”

This brief travelogue brought back many memories, so I taped the postcards to my office door (which doubles as a bulletin board). The happy part is that Earl and I are still together and have shared many trips in the past ten years. The sad part is that I’ve seen Veronique, Bernard, and Eliane only once since then.

Looking at the French solder makes me think I’ll try to get in touch with them.

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Conservative vs. Liberal

A lengthy article in today’s local newspaper used the term “conservative Christian” several times. One interviewee, for example, said, “If conservative Christians get excited about a candidate and come out and vote . . . they’re a force to be reckoned with.”

I have no objection to any group getting out the vote, regardless of whether or not I agree with its members’ position. But the article did make me wonder just what a conservative Christian stood for and if there was such a thing as a liberal Christian. I went to the Internet to learn more.

According to one source, a Christian is a religious person who believes Jesus is the Christ and who is a member of a Christian denomination. It was the term given to the early followers of Jesus by the Greeks or Romans (The source isn’t sure which.). A conservative is one who prefers traditional ways of life and does not seek change. One source called conservatives narrow-minded, but I suspect there is a bias there. On the other hand, a liberal is one who wants to see the social order change and who is not as bound by tradition.

How do these two words attach to the word ‘Christian’? Obviously, we read about conservative Christians all the time, but we rarely read about liberal Christians. It’s as if they don’t exist. But I submit one can be liberal and be a Christian. In fact, in many ways, Jesus was the first liberal Christian.

Wasn’t it He who said, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”? And, “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.”

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Freezer Frenzy

The presidential candidates are on to New Hampshire for a blitz between now and Tuesday evening’s voting. In honor of that state, I’ve decided to clean out our two freezers over the next few days. These two things might seem unrelated; but it’s a symbolic gesture. It’s cold in New Hampshire, and residents there will soon have their say. No matter who wins, it will be out with the old and in with the new come November. It will be out with the old before we buy anything new for our freezers too.

I’m not particularly familiar with New Hampshire, although I studied the current weather conditions at www.nhliving.com before making the statement that New Hampshire is cold this time of year. Unlike some candidates, I don’t want to be accused of outrageous comments without verifiable evidence.

Nashua is 31 degrees; Manchester is 33; Salem also 33, Portsmouth, 32, and the lowest point Conway is 22. Some of these names ring a bell in the far recesses of my memory dating back to my grade school study of the Revolutionary War. I hope today’s visionaries have as much fervor as their forbearers did. But I digress . . .

My freezer is a repository of vegetables that were parboiled last summer and flash-frozen for winter’s meals, mystery meat carefully wrapped in foil so that the contents are unknowable, and hot dog buns that have languished since a picnic in 2006. It is definitely time to throw the old out. I’m also discarding their cronies: store-bought Texas toast, Midwestern beef (or should I say “bull”), and NY strip steaks.

My pantry is another case in point; but there are plenty of primaries left after New Hampshire, so I’m relegating that project to the next one, which happens to be my own State of Michigan. By Super Tuesday, not only will I be informed but I’ll also have an immaculate kitchen.

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Thoughts the Morning After

Barack Obama and Mike Huckabee won in Iowa last night, although I can’t say theirs were decisive victories. I know they want to think that, and maybe the media promotes it; but let’s put the Democratic and Republican caucuses in perspective.

It was estimated that between 120 thousand and 150 thousand Democrats would participate, while 80 to 90 thousand Republicans would do the same. I haven’t read the actual numbers for the turnout, but it did seem that attendance ran high.

Here’s the thing. As of 2006, approximately 2.9 million people claimed Iowa as home. Of those residents, approximately 23.8 percent were under the age of eighteen and not eligible to caucus. That left 2.2 million. Now if both Democratic and Republican turnouts were at the high end of the original estimates, it means that little more than ten percent of the population affected the outcome. I wouldn’t call this decisive.

What I would say is that those who voted seemed to want younger leaders, candidates who pride themselves on being outside the Washington Beltway’s political influence. Obama is forty-seven, Huckabee is fifty-two. Maybe candidates who were born before 1950 better think about this.

New Hampshire’s primary is next. For the record — and I researched the U.S. Census Bureau for all statistics in this blog — that state’s 2006 estimated population was 1.3 million, with approximately 22.6 percent of those residents under 18 years of age. That leaves a little over a million people who could go to the primary on January 8. Regardless of whom they vote for, I hope more than ten percent — even more than twenty percent — show up. A decisive victory would have more meaning if more people were involved.

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Politically Astute

Nobody can call me politically astute; in fact, I’ve spent most of 2007 trying to avoid any discussions, debates, or debacles that reek of politics. But, with the Iowa caucus being held tomorrow, it’s time to become an educated voter. No, I’m not planning to visit Des Moines and participate; rather, I told myself about ten months ago that on January second I would take off the blinders I’ve deliberately worn and spend time learning about the candidates, their ideas, and — perhaps most significantly — their voting or vetoing records.

Earl frequently says that past behavior is a good indicator of future performance, and I agree. My mother often quoted the phrase, “What you do speaks so loudly, I cannot hear what you are saying.” Usually she said this when I had done something she disapproved of and was trying to apologize.

In this day of over-the-top rhetoric and in-your-face confrontation, I’m thinking these two sayings apply. It isn’t really about what the candidates promise in the heat of the race as it is about what they’ve done after other victories. Besides, with negative campaigning becoming a hallmark of political advertising, we hardly learn what the candidates themselves really stand for. I mean REALLY stand for.

To show up as an educated voter in November, I’ve decided to first refine where I stand on such issues as education, the war in Iraq, the economy, illegal immigration, and the family (This list is not exhaustive, only representative). Then I plan to study the candidates and vote for the one whose past performance suggests a match with my thinking. I have the feeling that some of the candidates want the process to be the other way around. They want to tell me what the “right” thing to think is.

I’m not sure which is the politically astute way — theirs or mine — but I’ve spent many hours with my blinders on trying to decide what to do when I removed them. This is what I came up with, and now that January 2, 2008 is here I plan to begin.

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Happy New Year

This is my first blog for 2008. Earl and I spent New Year’s Eve with old friends. (I’m talking how long I’ve know them here; not their ages.) We’ve ushered in the New Year with them before, so there was reminiscing not only about what we did this past year, but also what we did in years past.

“Do you remember when our kids were young?” I asked Noreen. “We’d fix dinner for everyone at one of our houses, then put the kids to bed and stay up until midnight playing pinochle.” Noreen nodded and smiled. Of course she remembered.

Come to think of it, this get-together wasn’t so different. Except that the kids grew up. The four of us played dominoes instead of pinochle, and I — as usual — was the Greatest Loser. (I’m talking worst score here; not my personal style.) And we counted down the final seconds of the old year with Dick Clark.

As for 2007, here are some things I remember. Tahiti is wet in January, but that didn’t stop Mark, Adaire, Earl, and me from having a wondering time. My son’s company moved from one location to another. It seemed as if it went on forever. Some candidates began running for President last March. They’re still running. Kevin and I saw Eric Clapton together. Keith and I visited Graceland; Earl and I visited a bison preserve. We made our annual Thanksgiving visit to relatives in Denver. I got close to nature communing with Porky the Squirrel, catching a b-i-g fish, and swimming with Nemo the dolphin. I bought a fast car. So far it and I haven’t gotten a speeding ticket.

What I remember most, however, is that everyone on both Earl’s and my sides of our family laughed hard and long when we were together. It didn’t matter if there were only a few of us or the whole gang. Laughter filled our year. I’ve never thought about it before, but maybe that’s what people mean when they wish each other “Happy New Year.”

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Unexpected Gift

I visited my local jeweler today because the stone in the ring he’d created recently seemed loose. He agreed that it was. In addition, he offered to clean all the rings I’d worn into his shop, a service he does each time I visit him.

This time I’d worn the diamond that my stepfather gave my mother when they became engaged. It’s a half-carat stone in a Tiffany setting, not the largest of my ring collection, but still certainly one to treasure. Chuck cleaned it and then studied the diamond under magnification.

“That’s a beautiful stone,” he said; and he should know. “There’s also an inscription on the band.”

I hadn’t known this before, so I asked that he tell me what it said. “It’s worn,” he said. “But I’ll try.” It took a couple tries, the final one under increased magnification.

“It says ‘Ollie-Pat 1967,” Chuck finally deciphered. I smiled. It was shorthand for the fact that my stepfather Ollie and my mother Pat married in 1967, forty years ago. Since then, both have passed away; and I’m left with only memories, like the diamond he gave her.

Yet, at this time of year, it seems like a special gift that Chuck could read the engraving inside the band enclosing the diamond. It makes me feel closer to my mother and stepfather. So I say, “Merry Christmas Ollie and Pat,” wherever you are!

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Life, Updated

Three years ago (October 27, 2004) I wrote an essay titled “Life, According to Sweatshirts” which reviewed some of the sayings that can be found on sweatshirts and proposed the idea that we can learn something about life in general by studying them, as well as learn something about the convictions of the people wearing those shirts.

I haven’t let this idea go. In fact, a recent catalog offers new sayings that I like and want to enjoy without buying every sweatshirt involved. Imagine a black sweatshirt with the following sayings:

Life is short: Read fast. Librarians: The thin blue line between you and the FBI. Mathlete. Some days it’s not even worth chewing through the restraints. Everything I needed to know I learned from the Three Stooges. Musicians Duet Better. If you’re telekinetic and you know it, raise your hand.

My favorite sweatshirt, however, is the one that says “They say I have A.D.D. but they just don’t understand. Oh, Look! A Chicken!”

My life-partner, Earl, could probably have been the poster child for A.D.D., had he been born forty years later. By then, there was an understanding of what A.D.D. was, even if there was no solution. But in Earl’s day, there was no understanding; so he probably tried the patience of his parents, every teacher he encountered, and possibly every boss. That said, Earl has accomplished much in spite of his A.D.D.

Which leads me to believe that while sweatshirts offer profound wisdom, one must take their words with a grain of salt.

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