Getting on a plane and blowing town tomorrow. Way overdue. Will be jammed up for the foreseeable future with family bidness, my catchup work with a highly alliterative consumer protection organization and my initial foray into the banking world.
See you in September!
It's all good. Really good.
Talk amongst yourself until I get back.
Thursday, August 09, 2012
Sunday, August 05, 2012
My Sunday Feeling
I got a message from a friend the other day. She has a kid over at the eStem charter school downtown. She told me that they had an assembly over there last year where the kids were addressed by a woman identified as "Alexis from Texas." She was dressed in a bridal gown for some reason and, as I understand it, she held herself out as a 40 year old virgin while she addressed the assembly on the virtues of abstinence.
My friend asked me if this sort of presentation was "taboo." I guess by taboo she meant an unconstitutional injection of religion into a public school.
The first thing I did was google the words "alexis texas." What popped up were many sites devoted to the body of work (pardon the expression) of a porn actress named "Alexis Texas." Acting strictly in the interests of journalism as I was and also in order to provide my friend with accurate information I took in some of Alexis' art. For about 2 hours.
Just kidding.
Anyway, if indeed Alexis Texas is the altar ego of Alexis from Texas then I fear that a massive fraud was perpetrated on the Little Rock Public Schools. I mean massive, as a cursory review of her work would lead the casual reviewer to the inescapable conclusion that Alexis Texas is as much a virgin as I am a harpsichordist. Unless, of course, she would utilize the technical defense that in some cultures certain acts, acts that were extravagantly displayed in the videos, are not considered violative of the virginal state. And I will leave it at that.
However, as much as it would amuse me to be proven wrong on this, I think the safer bet is that Alexis from Texas does not supplement her lecture fees by acting in porn films. Which leads us to my friend's tamer question of whether such a lecture is "taboo."
Well, I wasn't there and I don't know what was presented. But I don't think an abstinence lecture necessarily violates the 1st Amendment despite the fact that this is a big deal for evangelical types who are not above sneaking their brand of Christianity into a public schoolhouse whenever the opportunity presents itself. According to them. sex education is pornography. Which is bullshit. Alexis Texas , who may or may not be Alexis from Texas, is pornography. Sex education is, well, education. While I don't disagree that young kids don't need to be fooling around, such a lecture is not sex education. And the manner in which this particular talk was presented seems pretty stupid to me.
A grown woman lecturing in a bridal gown is pretty campy. Her claim to be a virgin is pretty much neither provable or disprovable, at least from the perspective of a gentleman who tends to keep knowledge of such matters to himself. And what kinda signal does this get up send anyway? I mean, everybody knows that the average bride is gonna get her some as soon as the gown hits the hotel room floor. And doesn't a person need some sort of baseline knowledge of such matters married or otherwise?
So while I don't think, from what little I know about the show that day at eStem, that the presentation was "taboo" or "illegal." But it did sound more than a little silly. And it didn't sound like much useful useful info got put out during the assembly. Abstinence only lectures are ineffective. Kids are kids. They will experiment. They will play with fire. They need to know facts. This kind of campy nonsense is no substitute for that. Which kinda irks me as a taxpayer.
But, really, if anybody can prove that Alexis Texas and her allegedly abstinent quasi-namesake are the same person please drop me a line. LRSD needs to get its money back.
My friend asked me if this sort of presentation was "taboo." I guess by taboo she meant an unconstitutional injection of religion into a public school.
The first thing I did was google the words "alexis texas." What popped up were many sites devoted to the body of work (pardon the expression) of a porn actress named "Alexis Texas." Acting strictly in the interests of journalism as I was and also in order to provide my friend with accurate information I took in some of Alexis' art. For about 2 hours.
Just kidding.
Anyway, if indeed Alexis Texas is the altar ego of Alexis from Texas then I fear that a massive fraud was perpetrated on the Little Rock Public Schools. I mean massive, as a cursory review of her work would lead the casual reviewer to the inescapable conclusion that Alexis Texas is as much a virgin as I am a harpsichordist. Unless, of course, she would utilize the technical defense that in some cultures certain acts, acts that were extravagantly displayed in the videos, are not considered violative of the virginal state. And I will leave it at that.
However, as much as it would amuse me to be proven wrong on this, I think the safer bet is that Alexis from Texas does not supplement her lecture fees by acting in porn films. Which leads us to my friend's tamer question of whether such a lecture is "taboo."
Well, I wasn't there and I don't know what was presented. But I don't think an abstinence lecture necessarily violates the 1st Amendment despite the fact that this is a big deal for evangelical types who are not above sneaking their brand of Christianity into a public schoolhouse whenever the opportunity presents itself. According to them. sex education is pornography. Which is bullshit. Alexis Texas , who may or may not be Alexis from Texas, is pornography. Sex education is, well, education. While I don't disagree that young kids don't need to be fooling around, such a lecture is not sex education. And the manner in which this particular talk was presented seems pretty stupid to me.
A grown woman lecturing in a bridal gown is pretty campy. Her claim to be a virgin is pretty much neither provable or disprovable, at least from the perspective of a gentleman who tends to keep knowledge of such matters to himself. And what kinda signal does this get up send anyway? I mean, everybody knows that the average bride is gonna get her some as soon as the gown hits the hotel room floor. And doesn't a person need some sort of baseline knowledge of such matters married or otherwise?
So while I don't think, from what little I know about the show that day at eStem, that the presentation was "taboo" or "illegal." But it did sound more than a little silly. And it didn't sound like much useful useful info got put out during the assembly. Abstinence only lectures are ineffective. Kids are kids. They will experiment. They will play with fire. They need to know facts. This kind of campy nonsense is no substitute for that. Which kinda irks me as a taxpayer.
But, really, if anybody can prove that Alexis Texas and her allegedly abstinent quasi-namesake are the same person please drop me a line. LRSD needs to get its money back.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
My Sunday Feeling
Last Friday I had the privilege of judging a debate at the local university. My friend Pam, who invited me, is part of the English as Second Language (ESL) Department over there and the debaters were all foreign kids, mostly African and Middle Eastern to my eye and ear. I suppose the idea of having them debate is to make them use their new language skills to argue their respective points before an audience while under time pressure. Good idea. This is hard enough to do when English is your first language.
The format was the British debating style. In the one I judged, one team (or House) had the position that censorship of the media was crucial to society and national security. The other House argued that censorship was a violation of the 1st Amendment and always impermissible. And off they went.
As was to be expected, some of the debaters were better than others. But both Houses were well prepared and earnestly went about their work. As the debate went on it became pretty clear that neither side had a real good grasp on what the 1st Amendment really is or does. For instance, one of the 1st Amendment debaters pointed out that both journalist Daniel Pearl and Martin Luther King died in places where governments were trying to suppress their views.
Now this was a false equivalence of the highest order and I was disappointed that nobody on (in?) the other House didn't knock it out of the park. But you also got the impression upon occasion as they went at it that both Houses thought that the 1st Amendment governs speech between individuals. Which it does not.
As I told the group in my remarks afterwards, the 1st Amendment only concerns itself with action by the government. As I told them, "If I am typing a letter to the editor about why I hate the Governor of Arkansas, and Pam (she was handy) kicks my door in and grabs my laptop, she is being mean and maybe I need to quit being friends with her. But she's not violating my rights. If the cops do it, they are violating my rights under the 1st Amendment. Because under the 1st Amendment I have the right to send a letter to the editor expressing my opinion, whatever it may be, about the Governor of Arkansas. And nobody in the government can stop me."
But the young debaters shouldn't feel badly on this score. Lots of folks get this wrong. Like some people who support the position of Chick Fil-A's CEO against gay marriage. As Gentle Reader may know, folks in the LBGT community (look it up as you really should know what this means by now) have organized a boycott of Chick Fil-A because of its stance on the issue. This has resonated with many people. Indeed, the mayors of the cities of Boston and Chicago have told CFA to take its business elsewhere.
And some folks on the Christian right have come to Chick Fil-A's defense in response to the boycott. Indeed, on August 1st our own Mike Huckabee and Billy Graham will go get some chicken during "Support Chick Fil-A Day." Or something. Which is fine.
What isn't fine, are some of the comments I have seen that equate the boycott of the business with "intolerance" or with a violation of the CEO's rights under the 1st Amendment.
Which is, of course, complete and utter nonsense.
As I have said before, I am free to spend my money whenever and wherever I choose. For whatever reason I choose to do it. The fact that I tend not to patronize businesses whose stated corporate values I do not share is not intolerance on my part. It's how I choose to spend my money. If I go into the local Chick Fil-A with an assault rifle and light the place up, that's an act of intolerance. If I stand across the street with a bullhorn and hurl vile epithets at its customers, that's an act of intolerance. Where I choose to spend my money is my business and my business alone. And besides, it's pretty damn hard to commit an act of intolerance if nobody knows about it. At least it's not a very effective one.
Secondly, the notion that Chick Fil-A is some kind of victim here is laughable. If they are they did it to themselves. When companies take polarizing stances, there is always some kind of response from consumers and interest groups. At least in the short haul. They didn't see this coming? If they didn't they are idiots.
Finally, as demonstrated above, the boycott violates nobodies constitutional rights. Nobody in the government has forced the CEO to retract his remarks. He is still free to stick to his guns. Folks are free to continue to get their yardbird at Chick Fil-A 7 days a week if they like. Wait. Make that 6. They are closed on Sundays.
And I am free to spend my money as I see fit. Because it's my money And if I choose not to patronize a certain business it's not because I am intolerant. It's my money. It's my business.
It's really not much more complicated or sinister than that. Really it's not.
The format was the British debating style. In the one I judged, one team (or House) had the position that censorship of the media was crucial to society and national security. The other House argued that censorship was a violation of the 1st Amendment and always impermissible. And off they went.
As was to be expected, some of the debaters were better than others. But both Houses were well prepared and earnestly went about their work. As the debate went on it became pretty clear that neither side had a real good grasp on what the 1st Amendment really is or does. For instance, one of the 1st Amendment debaters pointed out that both journalist Daniel Pearl and Martin Luther King died in places where governments were trying to suppress their views.
Now this was a false equivalence of the highest order and I was disappointed that nobody on (in?) the other House didn't knock it out of the park. But you also got the impression upon occasion as they went at it that both Houses thought that the 1st Amendment governs speech between individuals. Which it does not.
As I told the group in my remarks afterwards, the 1st Amendment only concerns itself with action by the government. As I told them, "If I am typing a letter to the editor about why I hate the Governor of Arkansas, and Pam (she was handy) kicks my door in and grabs my laptop, she is being mean and maybe I need to quit being friends with her. But she's not violating my rights. If the cops do it, they are violating my rights under the 1st Amendment. Because under the 1st Amendment I have the right to send a letter to the editor expressing my opinion, whatever it may be, about the Governor of Arkansas. And nobody in the government can stop me."
But the young debaters shouldn't feel badly on this score. Lots of folks get this wrong. Like some people who support the position of Chick Fil-A's CEO against gay marriage. As Gentle Reader may know, folks in the LBGT community (look it up as you really should know what this means by now) have organized a boycott of Chick Fil-A because of its stance on the issue. This has resonated with many people. Indeed, the mayors of the cities of Boston and Chicago have told CFA to take its business elsewhere.
And some folks on the Christian right have come to Chick Fil-A's defense in response to the boycott. Indeed, on August 1st our own Mike Huckabee and Billy Graham will go get some chicken during "Support Chick Fil-A Day." Or something. Which is fine.
What isn't fine, are some of the comments I have seen that equate the boycott of the business with "intolerance" or with a violation of the CEO's rights under the 1st Amendment.
Which is, of course, complete and utter nonsense.
As I have said before, I am free to spend my money whenever and wherever I choose. For whatever reason I choose to do it. The fact that I tend not to patronize businesses whose stated corporate values I do not share is not intolerance on my part. It's how I choose to spend my money. If I go into the local Chick Fil-A with an assault rifle and light the place up, that's an act of intolerance. If I stand across the street with a bullhorn and hurl vile epithets at its customers, that's an act of intolerance. Where I choose to spend my money is my business and my business alone. And besides, it's pretty damn hard to commit an act of intolerance if nobody knows about it. At least it's not a very effective one.
Secondly, the notion that Chick Fil-A is some kind of victim here is laughable. If they are they did it to themselves. When companies take polarizing stances, there is always some kind of response from consumers and interest groups. At least in the short haul. They didn't see this coming? If they didn't they are idiots.
Finally, as demonstrated above, the boycott violates nobodies constitutional rights. Nobody in the government has forced the CEO to retract his remarks. He is still free to stick to his guns. Folks are free to continue to get their yardbird at Chick Fil-A 7 days a week if they like. Wait. Make that 6. They are closed on Sundays.
And I am free to spend my money as I see fit. Because it's my money And if I choose not to patronize a certain business it's not because I am intolerant. It's my money. It's my business.
It's really not much more complicated or sinister than that. Really it's not.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Today's Wally About the Absence of Bobby Petrino from the SEC Media Day
Upon keeping things in perspective: "His crime last spring doesn't compare to Joe Paterno's or even Jim Tressel's"
Upon making stuff up I," Petrino is in the process of picking up the pieces of his life and putting them back together."
Upon "Hey! Thanks for sharing" : "Reportedly( Yes. "Reportedly") he and his wife are together, living in an apartment on a golf course in Rogers, They apparently (Yes. "Apparently.) are seen at Mass every Sunday."
Upon making stuff up II while musing on the limits of humility: " Probably what Petrino needed even more than a dose of humbleness (Yes. "Humbleness") was good old fashioned family time. "
Upon making stuff up III: " Most likely, Petrino will have to take a step back, maybe go out West, back to his roots."
The sports zeitgeist has suggested that Bobby Petrino may be back at Arkansas after a sufficient display of humbleness. And maybe Wally has his finger in the wind after completely blowing this story. I don't know. I am just speculating. Which is different from making stuff up.
In closing, let's keep things in perspective.
Petrino's "crime last spring doesn't compare to Joe Paterno's or even Jim Tressel's."
Or even Jim Tressel's.
There you have it.
Upon making stuff up I," Petrino is in the process of picking up the pieces of his life and putting them back together."
Upon "Hey! Thanks for sharing" : "Reportedly( Yes. "Reportedly") he and his wife are together, living in an apartment on a golf course in Rogers, They apparently (Yes. "Apparently.) are seen at Mass every Sunday."
Upon making stuff up II while musing on the limits of humility: " Probably what Petrino needed even more than a dose of humbleness (Yes. "Humbleness") was good old fashioned family time. "
Upon making stuff up III: " Most likely, Petrino will have to take a step back, maybe go out West, back to his roots."
The sports zeitgeist has suggested that Bobby Petrino may be back at Arkansas after a sufficient display of humbleness. And maybe Wally has his finger in the wind after completely blowing this story. I don't know. I am just speculating. Which is different from making stuff up.
In closing, let's keep things in perspective.
Petrino's "crime last spring doesn't compare to Joe Paterno's or even Jim Tressel's."
Or even Jim Tressel's.
There you have it.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Same As The Old Boss
"If you find yourself in a situation where the athletic culture is taking precedence over the academic culture than a variety of bad things can occur."
NCAA President Mark Emmert
OK. Penn State had it comin'. I think most folks can agree to that. At least most folks not in State College, Pennsylvania where there are still those trapped in the mystical tug of Nittany Lion football. But as we gaze over the smoking rubble that is Penn State football in the wake of the bomb that the NCAA dropped on it yesterday, it is only fitting that we consider the larger implications of the sanctions for Division I athletics.
And the immediate conclusion is "not much."
The NCAA's Executive Committee clearly intended these sanctions to be a shot across the bow. As Oregon State's Ed Ray said at yesterday's press conference concerning the Penn State sanctions, " The message is the presidents and the chancellors are in charge."
Really?
Don't look now gentlemen, but down heah in the SEC football is driving the culture everywhere but Vanderbilt and Kentucky. Has been for years. And the Commodores, after an unexpected brush with competence last season, are getting itchy. And things aren't that much different on some campuses in the Big 10, Big 12 and PAC whatever the hell it is now.
Frank Zappa once said something along the lines of "World War III will never start in Los Angeles. There's too much real estate involved."
Same here with DI football. If they think what they did to Penn State is going to change the culture of big time football, they're on crack. There's too much real estate involved. The dreaded "lack of institutional control" is going on at more "member institutions" than they even know or want to know. Now, to be sure such lack of institutional control is not covering up horrific criminal behavior as was the case at Penn State. Penn State was the problem from hell. And still there are those in State College who disbelieve the Freeh report, who still defend Joe Paterno.
The tail has wagged the dog far too long at some places. And now they are going to a playoff system. Why? Money. Pure and simple.
The presidents and chancellors are in charge? Yeah right.
I can think of one probable effect of this whole stinking mess.
Betcha nobody erects another statue to honor a living football coach anytime soon. Depending on the scale of the piece, it can be a bitch to find a place to store the damn thing if you have to tear it down.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
My Sunday Feeling
Caroline McCormick and I didn't get off to the greatest start in the world. I had gone to visit Don and Karin at the old house in Birmingham. I slept on a hide-a-bed in the living room. I had just awakened when I heard the sound of tiny feet coming down the staircase. Little Caroline saw me as I sat up in the bed.
She ran away screaming.
We got past it.
Caroline and her husband Reese Ornellas were in town Friday and Saturday. They left San Francisco en route to our Nation's Capitol where Caroline will start medical school at Georgetown in a couple of weeks. Reese, whom I met for the first time is an earnest sort who will teach literacy to 3rd graders at a charter school there. He clearly dotes on Caroline. I approve.
Caroline texted me last week and told me that they were coming through town and said they wanted to see me. She calls me Arthur Paul. Mr. Erxleben used to address me thusly as well as some of the guys at Wright, Lindsey and Jennings. Caroline's old man called me and said that they had been camping their way across the country from San Francisco and could they crash over here. Absolutely.
I guess I hadn't seen Caroline in 10 years. Neither one of us could really remember. But as you can see, she's all grown up now, boy.
I remember her parent's wedding in Birmingham. I drove the Impala that I had bought for 300 bucks from Uncle Howard to Jackson to pick up Hugh. We stopped for lunch at a pizza joint in Meridian. I bought the Pizza and Hugh popped for the pitcher of beer. Neither one of us had a net worth of more than 50 bucks back in those days.
That was a long time ago. Hugh's dead. I'm semi-retired.
And Caroline is going to med school.
Caroline wanted to see Hillcrest because Don had said how much he liked it here. We would have walked but it was 108. People from San Francisco aren't wired for 108. Hell, I'm not sure that I am. Anyway, we went down Kavanaugh, through Stift Station on Downtown. We drove past the Federal Building. Caroline asked me to point out my window to her. Nobody has ever asked me to do that before.
We went to the Clinton Library, through the River Market, and into Argenta. Little Rock seemed "cool" to them. I told Caroline that when her Dad first visited me around 1986 or so there wasn't a damn thing to do in this town. Other than to go out and get into trouble. Which we did. You can still get into trouble around here. But it is no longer your best option. Unless you are a knucklehead.
I showed them the Miracle League field. They were impressed by the swing for the wheelchair kids and the special slide with rollers. Never seen anything like that. And that was the grand tour.
Caroline is a vegan. So I scouted ahead for sustenance before they got here. Turns out that the Brazilian place down the road has a good selection of vegan entrees as well as sensible fare for people like Reese and myself. She was pleasantly surprised and grateful that she didn't have to "mix and match" as she put it. My friend Carrey from Catholic High came over and introduced herself. Buzz, one of my little lawyer friends, did likewise.
"That's the guy you were telling us about?" Caroline asked. "The guy down the street from you who practices law out of his house?"
"That's him."
"Wow."
Wow?
I found vegan cupcakes of all damn things on my scouting trip earlier in the week. They make the icing out of tofu. Son of a bitch. I love the girl but eating this kinda crap just ain't right. Be that as it may, off to Rosalia's bakery we went for breakfast on Saturday.
"Is this your daughter?" the girl behind the counter asked.
"Might as well be," I replied.
They met my friend Susie who introduced them to the dog she found at a truck stop and named "Good Buddy." She told Caroline his birthday is "10-4." At the Farmer's Market they met my Baptist preacher golfing buddy Randy, associate minister Carolyn and the Mayor of Little Rock.
"Guys, meet the Mayor of Little Rock," I said for the first time in my life. It sounded funny coming out of my mouth. I guess I never thought that a guy like me would be personally acquainted with the mayor of any place bigger than Bixby, Oklahoma.
All of the folks at the Farmers Market spoke highly of me. Or as honestly of me as they could in the shadow of Pulaski Heights Baptist Church.
I was surprised to feel something like sadness as Reese packed up the Prius as they prepared to get back on the road. I'm not around young people much anymore and I enjoyed their energy and perspective. I enjoyed paying for everything. I enjoyed seeing my buddy Don in his daughter's face. I enjoyed talking about baseball with Reese. I enjoyed showing them around and introducing them to my friends. It was weird. I didn't want them to go.
"You have water?"
"Thanks, but we have plenty of bottled water in the car," Reese said. We shook hands.
Caroline hugged me.
"Now you call me if y'all run into a jam out there. I mean it."
"We will," she said.
"Text me when you get to your mom's."
"I will. I promise."
"I love you, Honey"
"I love you too," she said as I kissed her scalp.
"You take of yourself, Arthur Paul."
"I will. I promise."
They hung a right on Van Buren and soon California tags were receding South in search of the interstate.
I'll take care of myself, Honey. I will. I promise.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
My Sunday Feeling
I ran into my friend Patty at the Farmer's Market in front of Pulaski Heights Baptist Church this morning. Patty teaches Gifted and Talented in a local Junior High. Hadn't seen her in awhile. She is from Philadelphia where her 94 year old Mom still lives. 94. God bless her.
Naturally, the Penn State story had been much on her mind, especially since she thought for awhile that she had grown up with Tim Curley, the Athletic Director that got canned and indicted. Wrong Tim Curley. She actually follows this blog and has followed the posts about the horrorshow in the place formerly known as Happy Valley. She was particularly intrigued by my suggestion that Penn State might have taken a different path if there had been more women in authority there. We stood underneath the entrance of the old church and talked while we watched it rain.
"I think you may be on to something there," she said. "Men just don't get it. Or, rather some men don't."
"What's there not to get?" I said. " I mean, even if there's no sexual assault going on, there's something just really squirrelly about a grown man being in a shower with a little boy after hours. Hell, I will not touch a child outside of the presence of an adult. He was in a shower with a kid."
" I know. Any woman would have been horrified by this news and heads would have rolled. But here's another take on it."
"Yeah?"
"You know, I'll bet none of these guys ever taught school."
"Not following."
" When you're a schoolteacher you are trained not to touch a kid, not to be behind closed doors with a kid. Stuff like that. Now I can't help giving hugs even though I'm not supposed to do it but that's just me. But when you teach at the secondary level you have to know the rules and you develop a radar about this stuff that obviously nobody had at Penn State."
She looked out at the rain for a moment.
"Can you imagine what those poor boys..." she said.
"No," I said cutting her off. "No frame of reference for it. Biggest lie in the world is contained in the phrase 'I know how you feel' unless you really do."
"Ya know," she said. " I had one of my former students come see me last Spring. She had just graduated from Fayetteville and moved back to Little Rock."
"Yeah?"
"She's a writer. She wanted to show me a story that she had written. It was about a girl who was a victim of date rape."
"I hope it wasn't autobiographical."
"I'm afraid it was. She told me about how the experience caused her to plunge into a severe depression. She couldn't sleep. She almost had to drop out of school."
"That's just awful."
" Yeah, she couldn't even bring herself to tell her mother about it until fairly recently. And it happened over 2 years ago."
"Wow. Poor kid."
"Think of those poor boys. What must have been going through their minds at the time? This has got to still impact their lives. It has to."
"I can't imagine."
"Neither can I."
"And here's something else," I said. "Where the hell was Mrs. Sandusky all this time? What would your response be if I told you that I'm going to make our basement a playroom and invite kids from the foundation..."
"Most of which were already troubled," she said.
"For sleepovers and stuff. You would be good with that, right?"
"Of course not! And about that time I would be thinking I was married to a lunatic. Although it sounds like she had a screw loose as well. And here's another thing. Guys like Sandusky makes it harder for people like us who like working with kids."
"One of the questions on cross was 'How's your hearing Mrs. Sandusky?'"
She let that sink in.
"This is making me ill. I need to buy some stuff and get back home. Need to quit thinking about this stuff. Which is gonna be hard to do back when I go home to see Mom Monday morning."
Patty's mom is still pretty sharp. Still lives in the home. Still pretty self sufficient. She writes a poem every Christmas. It is a cherished tradition for their family. This year's poem came early to Patty's mom this year. Woke her up at 2 in the morning the other night.
94. God bless her.
My advise to Patty? Don't look at a sports page while you're in Philly. Don't listen to sports radio.
Give yourself over instead to your Mom and this year's Christmas poem.
Give yourself over to love. And to being safe. Because safety is an illusion in some places.
Naturally, the Penn State story had been much on her mind, especially since she thought for awhile that she had grown up with Tim Curley, the Athletic Director that got canned and indicted. Wrong Tim Curley. She actually follows this blog and has followed the posts about the horrorshow in the place formerly known as Happy Valley. She was particularly intrigued by my suggestion that Penn State might have taken a different path if there had been more women in authority there. We stood underneath the entrance of the old church and talked while we watched it rain.
"I think you may be on to something there," she said. "Men just don't get it. Or, rather some men don't."
"What's there not to get?" I said. " I mean, even if there's no sexual assault going on, there's something just really squirrelly about a grown man being in a shower with a little boy after hours. Hell, I will not touch a child outside of the presence of an adult. He was in a shower with a kid."
" I know. Any woman would have been horrified by this news and heads would have rolled. But here's another take on it."
"Yeah?"
"You know, I'll bet none of these guys ever taught school."
"Not following."
" When you're a schoolteacher you are trained not to touch a kid, not to be behind closed doors with a kid. Stuff like that. Now I can't help giving hugs even though I'm not supposed to do it but that's just me. But when you teach at the secondary level you have to know the rules and you develop a radar about this stuff that obviously nobody had at Penn State."
She looked out at the rain for a moment.
"Can you imagine what those poor boys..." she said.
"No," I said cutting her off. "No frame of reference for it. Biggest lie in the world is contained in the phrase 'I know how you feel' unless you really do."
"Ya know," she said. " I had one of my former students come see me last Spring. She had just graduated from Fayetteville and moved back to Little Rock."
"Yeah?"
"She's a writer. She wanted to show me a story that she had written. It was about a girl who was a victim of date rape."
"I hope it wasn't autobiographical."
"I'm afraid it was. She told me about how the experience caused her to plunge into a severe depression. She couldn't sleep. She almost had to drop out of school."
"That's just awful."
" Yeah, she couldn't even bring herself to tell her mother about it until fairly recently. And it happened over 2 years ago."
"Wow. Poor kid."
"Think of those poor boys. What must have been going through their minds at the time? This has got to still impact their lives. It has to."
"I can't imagine."
"Neither can I."
"And here's something else," I said. "Where the hell was Mrs. Sandusky all this time? What would your response be if I told you that I'm going to make our basement a playroom and invite kids from the foundation..."
"Most of which were already troubled," she said.
"For sleepovers and stuff. You would be good with that, right?"
"Of course not! And about that time I would be thinking I was married to a lunatic. Although it sounds like she had a screw loose as well. And here's another thing. Guys like Sandusky makes it harder for people like us who like working with kids."
"One of the questions on cross was 'How's your hearing Mrs. Sandusky?'"
She let that sink in.
"This is making me ill. I need to buy some stuff and get back home. Need to quit thinking about this stuff. Which is gonna be hard to do back when I go home to see Mom Monday morning."
Patty's mom is still pretty sharp. Still lives in the home. Still pretty self sufficient. She writes a poem every Christmas. It is a cherished tradition for their family. This year's poem came early to Patty's mom this year. Woke her up at 2 in the morning the other night.
94. God bless her.
My advise to Patty? Don't look at a sports page while you're in Philly. Don't listen to sports radio.
Give yourself over instead to your Mom and this year's Christmas poem.
Give yourself over to love. And to being safe. Because safety is an illusion in some places.
Friday, July 13, 2012
The Worst Thing Ever
"It is more reasonable to conclude that, in order to avoid the consequence of bad publicity, the most powerful leaders at the university-Spanier, Schulz, Paterno and Curley-repeatedly concealed critical facts relating to Sandusky's child abuse from authorities, the university's board of trustees, the Penn State community and the community at large."
Hon. Louis Freeh in the press conference about his report on the Penn State scandal
Bad publicity. They failed to turn over a child molester because they feared bad pub. All those little boys, most of them from troubled backgrounds to begin with, were violated because those who knew failed to turn Jerry Sandusky over to law enforcement before the turn of the century.
Last night I ran into one of my Miracle League kids and her Dad at the store. K gave me a big hug around my waist. K has a communication disorder. She would make the perfect victim as would many of those kids. And I am ever mindful of the almost sacred trust that is reposed in me by the parents, the League and the system every Saturday that I go out to Miracle League field.
So, here is the the thing that I cannot reconcile, that I cannot wrap my mind around.
Why, for Christ's sake, did nobody report seeing Jerry Sandusky after hours in the shower with a child? On what planet in the known universe is this behavior not excruciatingly suspicious?
They were afraid of bad publicity. All those poor little terrified boys.
I'm going to go out on a limb here. But it's my limb. It is my guess that the child abuse scandals at both Penn State and in the Roman Catholic Church would have been less likely if there had been women in positions of power in both institutions. If for no other reason than women have the babies around here. I don't know of any woman in my life that would not have thrown herself between Sandusky and that little boy in the shower. And if a woman had been in charge at Penn State when the news of his squirrelly behavior hit her desk, my best guess is that the sounds of sirens would have followed shortly thereafter.
Bad publicity. All those poor little boys.
Joe Paterno wrote a letter that was not published until recently. He said that the scandal is not properly understood as a "football scandal." To which I say, "Stay dead, Joe."
Here is a simple way to look at it. If the coach is running the Athletic Department and/or the school it is what the NCAA refers to as a "lack of institutional control." We do not know but we may strongly infer that the Athletic Director decided not to turn Sandusky over @ 2003 or so after speaking to Joe Paterno. And they failed to follow the law and conspired to keep these criminal acts quiet for fear of bad publicity which we may also infer would work a disadvantage in recruiting.
"You sure you want to go play there Son? Kids get fucked in the shower there. We don't allow that kinda shit here at Northwestern."
Yeah. I can totally see that.
But you know what? It doesn't matter.
The men mention in Judge Freeh's report, men at the highest level of authority at Penn State, suborned criminal acts despicably committed upon innocent children to save the program. No, it's not Dave Bliss paying players at Baylor. It's not Jim Tressel looking the other way at Ohio State's players were selling memorabilia. It's not Miami and Oklahoma being, well, Miami and Oklahoma. It is not the usual violations that the NCAA selectively enforces.
This one is off the charts. It is the worst thing ever in the long and occasionally tawdry history of Division I football. It is beyond the patina of hypocrisy that allows those who know better to suspend disbelief on Saturday in order to pretend that most of these guys are really student-athletes.
It is the Worst. Thing. Ever. And it was allowed to happen due to a lack of institutional control. Seems pretty simple to my admittedly simple mind.
All of those poor little boys. Sacrificed because powerful men thought bad PR was even worse than the rape of a child. Penn State has forfeited the right to participate in football for the foreseeable future.
And if the NCAA, or the Big Ten, or both, don't step in, then we really will know what's more important.
Won't we?
Sunday, July 08, 2012
My Sunday Feeling
Jimmy Connors had not been retired for very long when he called his first Wimbledon for NBC. Sitting at Centre Court on that day, wrapped in a blanket, was the extremely elderly British tennis legend Fred Perry. Dick Engberg, I believe it was, pointed out that Mr. Perry was the greatest British player in history.
To which Jimbo helpfully replied, "He's still the best one they've got." For which he caught unshirted hell from the British press.
On Friday, Scotsman Andy Murray managed to make what passes for British tennis history by being the first male subject of the Crown to make the Gentleman's Final at Wimbledon since Mr. Perry did it in 1936. Up until then the burden of ending this Cubsian draught fell upon English serve and volleyer Tim Henman who managed to reach the semi-finals in 2001 and 2002. It is for him that "Henman Hill," the grassy hill outside the stadium upon which thousands sit and watch the matches onscreen, is named. "Gentleman Tim" was a gamer but he was too slight a figure to consistently impose his will at the net.
As for Murray, he has always had plenty of game. He just had something of a reputation as a mama's boy and a head case. Prior to this year's Wimbledon, he hired Ivan Lendl as his coach. Lendl, who had something of a reputation for being being pretty much evil seemed to me to be a curious choice at first. Ivan Lendl was noticably inept on grass during his playing career. Wimbledon was the only one of the Grand Slams that he did not win. Indeed, he famously remarked that he was "allergic" to grass despite being an avid golfer. Which is played on, well, you know. To me hiring Ivan Lendl to coach grass court tennis is like unto hiring Shaquille O'Neal to teach free throw shooting.
But maybe that is not what Lendl is imparting to the hot-headed young Scot. Lendl has been quoted as saying something along the lines of, " It is better to be happy after you are a champion. It is hard to be a champion when you are happy first." And Lendl always played as if he had a mad on. He never shied away from trying to hit his opponents that dared to come in on his buggy whip forehand or tarried too long at the net when he hit an overhead. He wasn't as hated as Jimbo or Junior but he was right up there.
You now hear commentators talk about Murray's "focus" and "demeanor" two words that you rarely heard mentioned in the same sentence as the phrase "Andy Murray." And it was that focus and intensity that got him through a scary quarter-final against Spanish grinder David Ferrer. And for his trouble he gets to play 6 time Wimbledon champ Roger Federer, who completely dismantled Novac Djokovic in his semifinals.
And I wouldn't miss it for the world. This is why we watch sports.
There will be Union Jacks waved by the fans at Centre Court. You will hear drunks singing "God Save the Queen" and bagpipers playing "Scotland the Brave" out on Henman's Hill. Hell, if I was Elizabeth Rex I think I would make myself available for this one. The Emerald Isle can run itself for a day, Ma'am.
Ivan Lendl has put some steel in his boy's spine. Will that and the full throated support of the UK be enough to beat Federer? Doubtful. Murray will be a tough out under the circumstances but Federer may be the greatest grass court player in the history of the game. Murray's got a puncher's chance but that's about it.
Which is almost beside the point. I'm a Cubs fan. I enjoy a close walk with utter futility. A British subject is playing for the Gentlemen's Championship for the first time since 1936.
Like I said, I wouldn't miss this for the world. This is why we watch sports.
Wednesday, July 04, 2012
Saturday, June 30, 2012
AWOL
The literary world will once again heave a heavy sigh but there will be no My Sunday Feeling tomorrow as I will be out of town.
Talk among yourself until I get back.
Talk among yourself until I get back.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Why Would I Lie About That?
I ordered something to eat at the rolling Mexican food place-a taqueria?-outside the wine place I like out in West Little Rock.
As the kid-maybe 10-was writing down my order he asked me a question.
"Senor, have you ever seen an Anaconda?"
"In person? No."
"They can eat big rats and small dogs even."
" Do I remind you of an Anaconda?" Could be. I still hold a license to practice law.
"No Senor," the kid said. "I'm just studying them and I think it's interesting. I get bored taking down orders for Mama and I like to talk to customers."
I told him that was OK and that I would see him in a minute after I had bought my groceries at the liquor store.
When I returned to the rolling restaurant there was a lady standing there looking at the menu on the side of the van. She is wearing a smock as would a worker in a nursing home or some other useful profession.
"Excuse me, " she said. " Have you eaten here before?"
"Yeah," I said. "It's great."
"Well, I live in Southwest Little Rock. These kind of places are all over there. They are all good. "
"Whereabouts?"
"Mabelvale. Over by the ball park."
" Little Oaks? Played Little League and Babe Ruth there. Was baptized at Mabelvale United Methodist."
" You're kidding! "
I extend my hand.
"My name is Paul, ma'am"
"My name is Carla," she says." Your shirt says Hendrix. You went to Hendrix? And you're from Mabelvale?"
"Yes ma'am," I said. " And my law degree also says I'm from Mablevale, Arkansas."
"Really?"
"Why would I lie about that?"
"Well I guess you wouldn't," she said turning back to the menu. " How are the burritos?"
"Don't know. Good luck. I bet they're good. I have to go now."
"Nobody's from Mabelvale," she said.
"Nobody but you and me," was my reply. And I walked away.
I swear to God this happened tonight.
As the kid-maybe 10-was writing down my order he asked me a question.
"Senor, have you ever seen an Anaconda?"
"In person? No."
"They can eat big rats and small dogs even."
" Do I remind you of an Anaconda?" Could be. I still hold a license to practice law.
"No Senor," the kid said. "I'm just studying them and I think it's interesting. I get bored taking down orders for Mama and I like to talk to customers."
I told him that was OK and that I would see him in a minute after I had bought my groceries at the liquor store.
When I returned to the rolling restaurant there was a lady standing there looking at the menu on the side of the van. She is wearing a smock as would a worker in a nursing home or some other useful profession.
"Excuse me, " she said. " Have you eaten here before?"
"Yeah," I said. "It's great."
"Well, I live in Southwest Little Rock. These kind of places are all over there. They are all good. "
"Whereabouts?"
"Mabelvale. Over by the ball park."
" Little Oaks? Played Little League and Babe Ruth there. Was baptized at Mabelvale United Methodist."
" You're kidding! "
I extend my hand.
"My name is Paul, ma'am"
"My name is Carla," she says." Your shirt says Hendrix. You went to Hendrix? And you're from Mabelvale?"
"Yes ma'am," I said. " And my law degree also says I'm from Mablevale, Arkansas."
"Really?"
"Why would I lie about that?"
"Well I guess you wouldn't," she said turning back to the menu. " How are the burritos?"
"Don't know. Good luck. I bet they're good. I have to go now."
"Nobody's from Mabelvale," she said.
"Nobody but you and me," was my reply. And I walked away.
I swear to God this happened tonight.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
My Sunday Feeling
"Sexually attracted, you know, I, I enjoy young people. I,I, love to be around them. No, I'm not sexually attracted to little boys."
Thus was the organ recital Jerry Sandusky gave to Bob Costas last year in response to the simple question of whether he was sexually attracted to little boys.
You ask me the question "Why do you help out at Miracle League?" you would hear me say, "I enjoy being around the kids." You ask me if I am sexually attracted to them and you will wake up in the hospital. But, then again, it's pretty black and white with me and everybody else I associate with.
The Bob Costas interview was when I, and I suspect the whole sane world, knew that Sandusky was a creep. He just wasn't a convicted creep at the time.
He is now, Brother. Last night the jury came back and convicted him of 45 of 48 counts of sexually assaulting 10 boys over the last 15 years.
He got off light.
I understand stealing. I understand burglary. I understand cooking the books. I understand selling drugs. I wouldn't do those things but I at least have a frame of reference for them.
I don't get sex offenders. And I reeeeeaaalllly don't get adults that do kids. Their brains are deeply unhinged in a way I cannot fathom.
My friend Peter bought me lunch the other day. A defendant he was about to sue up and died on him. He and the lawyer for the decedent's insurer moved the Court to have me named as Special Receiver for Service of Process or some shit. For this he was buying me lunch. I work cheap.
Anyway, I had expressed my exasperation as to why Sandusky was evidently hell-bent on going to trial. As the old saying goes in the criminal world, when you get charged with that many offenses of the same nature, "Boy, you know you done at least one of them." Same here. Why drag yourself and your family through the shame and degradation? Why cruelly force these young men to relive these unspeakable acts? Especially when you know you "done at least one of them."
Peter is an old prosecutor and he still does a little criminal defense. Mostly of the knucklehead variety. Peter's take on it was interesting.
"Here's the deal with child molesters Pablo," he said. " in the fucked up way Sandusky's brain operates, he probably doesn't think he did anything all that bad. He probably thinks he helped those kids out more than he hurt them. Anybody who is that delusional probably thinks that the jury will see it his way."
Which, as it turned out, was crazy.
And now there will be hell to pay. Sandusky will spend the rest of his life in isolation. This could be a long time depending on whether he accidentally runs across the wrong con. One who has nothing to lose. Or he may kill himself. He supposedly is on "suicide watch." This is not surprising. There must be nothing worse for a man with such juvenile and twisted ego needs to have limits placed on his behavior.
The former athletic director and another official are charged with perjuring themselves before the Grand Jury. The FBI is poking around as is the United States Department of Education. Penn State will get sued as will Joe Paterno's estate. The new President and Athletic Director will get to spend the next couple of years in the company of lawyers.
"Happy Valley" indeed.
If there is any lesson to be taken away from this exceedingly sordid and heartbreaking tale it is that there are monsters among us in all walks of life. They burrow into otherwise good and honorable professions. They are clergy. They are teachers. They are coaches. As a society, we have to be hyper vigilant about their presence among us. And we should give aid and sustained comfort to their victims. We should applaud their bravery when they name names and give voice to the unspeakable horror visited upon them.
In short, we should never forget that this can happen again. Because there are monsters among us. Monsters like Jerry Sandusky who rightly figured that the system would give him a pass because it did for years.
As for me and my friends at Miracle League? Yeah. We like to be around the kids.
And we can't let the Jerry Sanduskys of this world ruin it for us.
Want to make something of it?
Sunday, June 17, 2012
My Sunday Feeling
Could there have been anything more heart-rending than the testimony of the young men at the trial of former Penn State Defensive Coordinator Jerry Sandusky who is charged with molesting numerous young boys? The witnesses, now adults, bravely, and at great emotional cost to themselves, took the stand and described in vivid and graphic detail what Sandusky is accused of doing to them when they were kids.
The prosecution put Mike McQueary on the stand last week to testify about what he saw one night in the shower in the Penn State locker room. McQueary was an assistant coach there at the time. He testified that he saw Sandusky raping a young boy. He said that he slammed a locker door hard to let Sandusky know he was there. But that's all that he did.
"Physically, [I] didn't physically remove the young boy from the shower or punch Jerry out," he testified.
Why not?
"I was extremely frustrated and flushed," he testified. "Once I saw them separated, it's safe to assume I assumed it was over. I've said repeatedly I didn't do anything to stop it. Its been well publicized."
My buddy Don asked a pretty simple question. Again, why not?
McQueary's not a bad guy. He reported the incident to Head Coach Joe Paterno who, following protocol advised the Athletic Director. He then told his story to the Athletic Director and the Vice President in charge of the campus police. Who did nothing. Anybody that got hurt by Sandusky after the incident in the shower that night, that's not on McQueary.
The sporting press has been full of arm chair psychology about that night in the locker room. Most of them don't fault McQueary for not intervening because "none of us know what we would do if we were in the same position as he."
Which is bullshit. I know what I would have done. Don knows what he would have done. And nobody has ever mentioned either of us alongside the phrase "physical bravery."
You pull the attacker off the kid. You tell the kid to run. If the attacker fights you, well, bad for you. Most likely if McQueary had intervened Sandusky would have run away. Fine. The cops would have known where to find him. You get a towel or blanket to cover the kid. You comfort him without touching him and you assure him that he is safe. You don't touch him to let him know that you are different than the bad man that hurt him. You also don't touch him because his body is basically a crime scene and he will have to be examined by a doctor with a rape kit.
And you call 911. You frigging call 911.
It is a no-brainer to me. And it is a no-brainer to just about anybody I know.
Meanwhile, back in Court, Sandusky's lawyers won a ruling that will let them put on an expert who will testify that Sandusky has a "histrionic personality disorder." Their theory, as I understand it, is that the disorder caused him to seek the affection and companionship of young boys while not necessarily grooming them to be victims of molestation. Talk about your thin lines.
Well, I'm not exactly Mr. Criminal Defense Lawyer but gooooood luck with that. The problem with such "diminished capacity" defenses is that they are rarely successful. And that's because they are interposed to explain a defendant's behavior. In other words, since they can't refute the facts, they will use this in an attempt to explain away the facts. As I have said, "good luck."
But what the hell. From what I can tell they don't have much else going for them. It's not like he has an alibi. It's not like it's normal for a grown man to shower with young boys. It's not like they can put Sandusky on the stand. He's too stupid and squirrelly to stand up to cross-examination.
But who cares about him?
This whole sorry situation represents a massive institutional failure on the part of Penn State University to protect the weak and the vulnerable. It is easily the worst scandal to have visited college sports.
And I will have to believe that Mike McQueary will kick himself all the way to the grave because he didn't "punch Jerry out."
Sunday, June 10, 2012
My Sunday Feeling
Yesterday was Mother's Birthday. I'm thinking that she would have been 86 or 87. But I don't recall what year she was born. I almost forgot her birthday altogether but my friend Jennifer was kind enough to remind me and to tell me she was thinking of me. That was nice. She didn't have to do that. I am always grateful for small kindnesses extended my way. I seem to get a lot of them and I am not at all sure that I deserve half of what I get.
I have been getting a few "How are you doing?" type messages and there are a lot of kind posts on Facebook. Again, my life is abundant with small kindnesses. And I am grateful for each one. So. How am I doing? This is how I'm doing. Pretty good. I've lived a lot of life in the last couple of years. Some good, some not so good. But we are on a definite upward arc.
Granted, yesterday had a strange feel to it. It wasn't sad exactly. Rather, it was-for lack of any other phrase that I can someone forth right now-sweetly poignant. It wasn't grief and it wasn't nostalgia. It was somewhere at the intersection between the two. I guess her birthday provided me with the occasion to look back at the last years of her life and to reflect upon how much I time I spent taking care of her, paying her bills, driving her to the doctor and visiting with staff. Sometimes it felt like a second job.
And even though toward the end of her life as the dementia more fully engulfed her mind Mother didn't know the difference between her birthday and Easter Sunday, I always went to see her on her birthday. Typically, I would bring her flowers. Mother loved flowers and I would never cease to marvel at how, though she occasionally didn't fully appreciate just who had borne her the flowers she held in her hand, she could name each of the various ones. Pretty much up until the end her love of flowers remained hard wired in her head.
And I say all of this by long winded way of explaining that it feels odd not to be able to wish my Mother a happy birthday. Christmas-who cares?-and Mother's Day was almost as big a pain in the ass as Valentine's Day. And the day of her death the last two Decembers didn't really affect me all that much. She suffered greatly. Death, under the circumstances, is merciful. But not being able to wish somebody a happy birthday on this day really has bothered me.
I discovered yesterday on Facebook (where else?) that my Baptist preacher golfing buddy shares a birthday with my Mom. I am not an overly sentimental man and I am not typically given over to magical thinking. But I find it oddly comforting that I still have somebody I can celebrate this day with. Maybe it is because we humans find comfort and meaning in symbols and rituals. Hey, it's worked for the Catholics, Episcopalians and Orthodox for centuries.
Or maybe it's because when you are little birthdays are really big deals and remain thus until after you can drive a car and/or legally buy a drink. And your Mom always made a cake and invited your friends over. In any event, why fight it?
As you may recall, my friend Michele has recently joined me in the Motherless Adults club. It was in that vein yesterday that she suggested that I get a piece of cake and in that way celebrate Mom's life. This is why I love Michele Walter. Because buying a piece of cake would have never occurred to me in a million years. As Michele said, "That's what I'm here for." Again, a kindness bestowed.
I don't have much of a sweet tooth. I have a gin tooth. But I used to take Mother oatmeal cookies from Starbucks. They are soft and Mother could tear them with her hands and swallow them easily. I would take one for me and one for her. And we would eat them together in her room at the nursing home. So yesterday I bought myself an oatmeal cookie from Starbucks in remembrance of my Mom.
Happy Birthday, Mother! And Happy Birthday, Randy!
And thank God for small kindnesses.
I have been getting a few "How are you doing?" type messages and there are a lot of kind posts on Facebook. Again, my life is abundant with small kindnesses. And I am grateful for each one. So. How am I doing? This is how I'm doing. Pretty good. I've lived a lot of life in the last couple of years. Some good, some not so good. But we are on a definite upward arc.
Granted, yesterday had a strange feel to it. It wasn't sad exactly. Rather, it was-for lack of any other phrase that I can someone forth right now-sweetly poignant. It wasn't grief and it wasn't nostalgia. It was somewhere at the intersection between the two. I guess her birthday provided me with the occasion to look back at the last years of her life and to reflect upon how much I time I spent taking care of her, paying her bills, driving her to the doctor and visiting with staff. Sometimes it felt like a second job.
And even though toward the end of her life as the dementia more fully engulfed her mind Mother didn't know the difference between her birthday and Easter Sunday, I always went to see her on her birthday. Typically, I would bring her flowers. Mother loved flowers and I would never cease to marvel at how, though she occasionally didn't fully appreciate just who had borne her the flowers she held in her hand, she could name each of the various ones. Pretty much up until the end her love of flowers remained hard wired in her head.
And I say all of this by long winded way of explaining that it feels odd not to be able to wish my Mother a happy birthday. Christmas-who cares?-and Mother's Day was almost as big a pain in the ass as Valentine's Day. And the day of her death the last two Decembers didn't really affect me all that much. She suffered greatly. Death, under the circumstances, is merciful. But not being able to wish somebody a happy birthday on this day really has bothered me.
I discovered yesterday on Facebook (where else?) that my Baptist preacher golfing buddy shares a birthday with my Mom. I am not an overly sentimental man and I am not typically given over to magical thinking. But I find it oddly comforting that I still have somebody I can celebrate this day with. Maybe it is because we humans find comfort and meaning in symbols and rituals. Hey, it's worked for the Catholics, Episcopalians and Orthodox for centuries.
Or maybe it's because when you are little birthdays are really big deals and remain thus until after you can drive a car and/or legally buy a drink. And your Mom always made a cake and invited your friends over. In any event, why fight it?
As you may recall, my friend Michele has recently joined me in the Motherless Adults club. It was in that vein yesterday that she suggested that I get a piece of cake and in that way celebrate Mom's life. This is why I love Michele Walter. Because buying a piece of cake would have never occurred to me in a million years. As Michele said, "That's what I'm here for." Again, a kindness bestowed.
I don't have much of a sweet tooth. I have a gin tooth. But I used to take Mother oatmeal cookies from Starbucks. They are soft and Mother could tear them with her hands and swallow them easily. I would take one for me and one for her. And we would eat them together in her room at the nursing home. So yesterday I bought myself an oatmeal cookie from Starbucks in remembrance of my Mom.
Happy Birthday, Mother! And Happy Birthday, Randy!
And thank God for small kindnesses.
Sunday, June 03, 2012
My Sunday Feeling
There are times when events occur that makes one wonder whether they are a by-product of the national zeitgeist or whether they are more accurately understood instead as mere localized stupidity.
Last week, a 4 year old Mormon boy-or more accurately a little boy born of Mormon parents-was denied admission to pre-school (I guess) at Little Rock Christian Academy. The parents were upset and went to the press. The reporter interviewed a member of the Board. A lady named Carla Emanuel, who evidently is of some prominence socially seeing as how her picture coincidentally graced the cover of a local magazine the same time as the interview took place.
"It's very, very sneaky when people come in especially in elementary and junior high grades where the kids are [sic] very influenced. It's frightening how quickly things can get turned around," she said. "They are called to do that, which is fine. But then start a Mormon school," she said.
And if we need further proof that Ms. Emanuel does not possess a "Gee, Maybe I Better Shut Up" alarm in her head, she went on make the informed and theologically nuanced observation that "I don't believe they ("they" being the Mormons we may safely assume) will go to Heaven."
A more paranoid and profoundly stupid remark can scarcely be imagined. Don't believe me? Then let us parse it further.
"It's very, very sneaky when people come in..." What's sneaky about it? I'm sure the kid's parents filed an application with the school just like everybody else. They evidently didn't lie on the application either. And what "people" are she referring to? She didn't mention the Mormons by name. Jews have historically been accused of sneakiness. Or maybe she doesn't like Unitarians.
And it is evidently the height of sneakiness when "people" try to come in to "elementary and junior high grades where the kids are [sic]very influenced." But that's not what happened here. The kid was trying to get into pre-school. While it is not uncommon for paranoids to get their facts wrong, this one, like Barack Obama not really being born in the United States, is not even close.
"It's frightening how quickly things can get turned around." Really? Has it ever happened before? Did the kids at LRCA start making reference en masse to the "Holy Ghost" and asking for martinis for breakfast the last time an Episcopalian child was admitted there? And are they so insecure about their own faith out there that the presence of a 4 year old Mormon is a threat?
And finally, "They are called to do that, which is fine. But then start a Mormon school." I assume she means that Mormons are called to proselytize. Which is not only "fine"it's true. But again, the kid in question is 4. Even Jesus didn't confound the Elders in the Temple until he was older.
Now the question I had momentarily is whether the kerfuffle over at LRCA has anything to do with the larger question burning its way through some quarters as to whether Mormonism (for lack of a better word) is so outside the stream of American religious experience that it will hurt Mitt Romney politically. There are a considerable number of people that do not believe that Mormons are Christians. Or as noted theologian Carla Emanuel put it, they ain't going to Heaven. That would be 6 million of them in the United States alone. Each and every one of them consigned to Perdition by a member of the Board at LRCA.
I may be wrong but I don't believe that I know any Mormons. If I do, they have chosen, much to my considerable relief, to keep it to themselves. But I can certainly believe that they are Christians if for no other reason than they tend to display outward and visible signs of the faith such as hard work, thrift, devotion to family, clean and moral living and charity. However, I also fully believe that Joseph Smith was a con artist of the first water who was in it for the money and the chicks as much as anything. And while I am exceedingly tolerant of the religious persuasions of others, I find some Mormon beliefs such as baptism by proxy and how Smith came to receive the revelation from the Angel Moroni to be utter hooey. Finally, while I probably don't think of end time theology very much, I can say that I do not believe for 5 minutes that the Second Coming of Jesus will occur in Missouri.
But being a Mormon doesn't disqualify Mitt Romney from the highest office in the land because the Constitution forbids a religious test for Public Office, although you wouldn't know it from the debate during the Republican primaries. And I believe upon further reflection that the recent unpleasantness here in town has little to do with the larger national debate. From what little we know now, it is just a local bit of ugliness.
Mitt Romney's faith does not disqualify him from the Presidency. But it evidently would disqualify his grand kids from admittance to Little Rock Christian Academy.
Last week, a 4 year old Mormon boy-or more accurately a little boy born of Mormon parents-was denied admission to pre-school (I guess) at Little Rock Christian Academy. The parents were upset and went to the press. The reporter interviewed a member of the Board. A lady named Carla Emanuel, who evidently is of some prominence socially seeing as how her picture coincidentally graced the cover of a local magazine the same time as the interview took place.
"It's very, very sneaky when people come in especially in elementary and junior high grades where the kids are [sic] very influenced. It's frightening how quickly things can get turned around," she said. "They are called to do that, which is fine. But then start a Mormon school," she said.
And if we need further proof that Ms. Emanuel does not possess a "Gee, Maybe I Better Shut Up" alarm in her head, she went on make the informed and theologically nuanced observation that "I don't believe they ("they" being the Mormons we may safely assume) will go to Heaven."
A more paranoid and profoundly stupid remark can scarcely be imagined. Don't believe me? Then let us parse it further.
"It's very, very sneaky when people come in..." What's sneaky about it? I'm sure the kid's parents filed an application with the school just like everybody else. They evidently didn't lie on the application either. And what "people" are she referring to? She didn't mention the Mormons by name. Jews have historically been accused of sneakiness. Or maybe she doesn't like Unitarians.
And it is evidently the height of sneakiness when "people" try to come in to "elementary and junior high grades where the kids are [sic]very influenced." But that's not what happened here. The kid was trying to get into pre-school. While it is not uncommon for paranoids to get their facts wrong, this one, like Barack Obama not really being born in the United States, is not even close.
"It's frightening how quickly things can get turned around." Really? Has it ever happened before? Did the kids at LRCA start making reference en masse to the "Holy Ghost" and asking for martinis for breakfast the last time an Episcopalian child was admitted there? And are they so insecure about their own faith out there that the presence of a 4 year old Mormon is a threat?
And finally, "They are called to do that, which is fine. But then start a Mormon school." I assume she means that Mormons are called to proselytize. Which is not only "fine"it's true. But again, the kid in question is 4. Even Jesus didn't confound the Elders in the Temple until he was older.
Now the question I had momentarily is whether the kerfuffle over at LRCA has anything to do with the larger question burning its way through some quarters as to whether Mormonism (for lack of a better word) is so outside the stream of American religious experience that it will hurt Mitt Romney politically. There are a considerable number of people that do not believe that Mormons are Christians. Or as noted theologian Carla Emanuel put it, they ain't going to Heaven. That would be 6 million of them in the United States alone. Each and every one of them consigned to Perdition by a member of the Board at LRCA.
I may be wrong but I don't believe that I know any Mormons. If I do, they have chosen, much to my considerable relief, to keep it to themselves. But I can certainly believe that they are Christians if for no other reason than they tend to display outward and visible signs of the faith such as hard work, thrift, devotion to family, clean and moral living and charity. However, I also fully believe that Joseph Smith was a con artist of the first water who was in it for the money and the chicks as much as anything. And while I am exceedingly tolerant of the religious persuasions of others, I find some Mormon beliefs such as baptism by proxy and how Smith came to receive the revelation from the Angel Moroni to be utter hooey. Finally, while I probably don't think of end time theology very much, I can say that I do not believe for 5 minutes that the Second Coming of Jesus will occur in Missouri.
But being a Mormon doesn't disqualify Mitt Romney from the highest office in the land because the Constitution forbids a religious test for Public Office, although you wouldn't know it from the debate during the Republican primaries. And I believe upon further reflection that the recent unpleasantness here in town has little to do with the larger national debate. From what little we know now, it is just a local bit of ugliness.
Mitt Romney's faith does not disqualify him from the Presidency. But it evidently would disqualify his grand kids from admittance to Little Rock Christian Academy.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
My Sunday Feeling
My friend Michele joined the club yesterday. It's a club nobody wants to join but can't avoid. Michele's Mother died yesterday. Her Mom was only 58. Which means she had to have been pretty young when her daughter made her debut on this planet.
I have known Michele for-what?-15 years or so by now. I first met her when I allegedly assisted her and DOJ's Environmental Defense Section in a couple of wetlands cases back in the late Nineties. A tall thin Nebraskan, we hit it off immediately primarily over our shared love of beer and sports. She and I have kept up over the years. This is despite the fact that she thinks I should go vegan like her. And she"s kind of a pain in the ass about it.
My favorite story-or one of them anyway- about her is when the devastating tornadoes came through downtown Little Rock in 2002 or so. She called me the first thing the morning after to see if I was OK. I assured her that I was fine and I told her how much I appreciated the call.
"I lived in a trailer park when I was little," she said, "I know how scary tornadoes can be."
While it is true that only in America can a person go from a trailer park to the Department of Justice, it is equally true that Michele's trip was made easier by the loving example of her Mom.
She talked about her Mom a lot. Which brings me to another Michele story. She approved of my participation in Miracle League which for the uninitiated is a baseball league for disabled people. Michele's mom coached her softball team.
"Heck," she told me. Like I said, she is from Nebraska. She says "heck" a lot. "We had disabled kids on the team. Mom insisted on letting them play." Which was pretty unusual twenty something years ago.
This is an interesting time of life. More of my friends are now joining me in the club as we say farewell to our parents. I have recently said goodbye to one of my best friends. There will be others as year succeeds to year as the old hymn goes.
They say losing a Mother is the hardest. I don't know about that. That may be romantic nonsense. Losing my Mom was not traumatic in the sense that my mother suffered greatly. Death put an end to that. And our relationship, especially in the last 10 years of her life, was that of guardian-ward as much as anything. So I don't miss her as a parent or as a companion. But I find myself thinking of her from time to time. And I still kick myself over some ways that I feel that I did not serve her as well as I might have. I don't think that will ever end. At least not until they stick my earthly remains in the wall at the Methodist church down the road.
It will be far harder on Michele. I don't know what happened but her Mother's death was unexpected. And she didn't just lose a parent. She lost a young Mother, her best friend and "everyone's 2nd Mom" as she put it on Facebook. One doesn't easily get over that level of heartbreak. Not easily at all.
I tried to call her but the message went to voice mail. The text that followed a little later said, " Plane just landed and got your voice mail. Will be in touch soon. I love you too."
You know where to find me Honey. And welcome-I guess- to the club. You can come sit right here by me. I want to hear more stories about your Mom.
I have known Michele for-what?-15 years or so by now. I first met her when I allegedly assisted her and DOJ's Environmental Defense Section in a couple of wetlands cases back in the late Nineties. A tall thin Nebraskan, we hit it off immediately primarily over our shared love of beer and sports. She and I have kept up over the years. This is despite the fact that she thinks I should go vegan like her. And she"s kind of a pain in the ass about it.
My favorite story-or one of them anyway- about her is when the devastating tornadoes came through downtown Little Rock in 2002 or so. She called me the first thing the morning after to see if I was OK. I assured her that I was fine and I told her how much I appreciated the call.
"I lived in a trailer park when I was little," she said, "I know how scary tornadoes can be."
While it is true that only in America can a person go from a trailer park to the Department of Justice, it is equally true that Michele's trip was made easier by the loving example of her Mom.
She talked about her Mom a lot. Which brings me to another Michele story. She approved of my participation in Miracle League which for the uninitiated is a baseball league for disabled people. Michele's mom coached her softball team.
"Heck," she told me. Like I said, she is from Nebraska. She says "heck" a lot. "We had disabled kids on the team. Mom insisted on letting them play." Which was pretty unusual twenty something years ago.
This is an interesting time of life. More of my friends are now joining me in the club as we say farewell to our parents. I have recently said goodbye to one of my best friends. There will be others as year succeeds to year as the old hymn goes.
They say losing a Mother is the hardest. I don't know about that. That may be romantic nonsense. Losing my Mom was not traumatic in the sense that my mother suffered greatly. Death put an end to that. And our relationship, especially in the last 10 years of her life, was that of guardian-ward as much as anything. So I don't miss her as a parent or as a companion. But I find myself thinking of her from time to time. And I still kick myself over some ways that I feel that I did not serve her as well as I might have. I don't think that will ever end. At least not until they stick my earthly remains in the wall at the Methodist church down the road.
It will be far harder on Michele. I don't know what happened but her Mother's death was unexpected. And she didn't just lose a parent. She lost a young Mother, her best friend and "everyone's 2nd Mom" as she put it on Facebook. One doesn't easily get over that level of heartbreak. Not easily at all.
I tried to call her but the message went to voice mail. The text that followed a little later said, " Plane just landed and got your voice mail. Will be in touch soon. I love you too."
You know where to find me Honey. And welcome-I guess- to the club. You can come sit right here by me. I want to hear more stories about your Mom.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
My Sunday Feeling
As some of you may recall, financial matters interest me. It's not that I have any money to speak of. I am not a wealthy man by any stretch of the imagination. But I can meet the bankruptcy code's definition of solvency. It's not much. But I can do it.
Like many people, I just kinda fell into what became my life's work. I got hired right before the bankruptcy lawyer left. Hence, I became the bankruptcy lawyer. And I practiced bankruptcy law for many years. I have litigated with and against various lending institutions. Over time, I came to develop a keen interest in how individuals and institutions make decisions about money and finance. This is partially why a local consumer group with a highly alliterative name hired me as a consultant.
As the line in the song by Adele goes, "People are crazy. People say crazy things." They especially say crazy things about money and taxes. Especially during an election year. Just a couple of weeks ago my friend Jennifer felt led to render a disquisition on Facebook about tax policy, of all goddamn things, for lack of a better title. While it is not known what set her off specifically, she was in high dudgeon against the nutbar notion that "Taxation is Theft."
And she rightly pointed out that while we are all entitled to our opinion in this regard, the government has to pay for police, and filling potholes and raising armies etc somehow. These things have to be done. Most of the police powers of the states and towns cannot be privatized. The good and useful things that are necessary for our security and for domestic tranquility are paid for by our taxes. Indeed, I started to join her discussion by quoting Oliver Wendell Holmes's (I think it was) famous dictum that "Taxes are the price we pay for civilization." But she was on a roll and I have learned to stay out of her way at these times.
In his column Thursday about the Euro crisis, particularly as it pertains to Greece. the New York Times's Paul Krugman made an observation about the difference between the Euro crisis and the financial meltdown of our own. (By the way, the chapter on Greece in Michael Lewis's excellent book about about the global financial crisis called "Boomerang" is entitled "They Invented Math.")It's pretty simple. A retiree in Florida was still getting her Social Security checks and still had access to Medicare despite the fact that our economy had gone to hell in a bucket. Her Greek counterpart has no such assurance from her government. Here's the column here: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/18/opinion/krugman-apocalypse-fairly-soon.html?hp
I hadn't really thought about it precisely in those terms. But he is correct. Most people in this country still believe that there is some sort of social contract between the government and you and me. When I call 911, I expect somebody to answer. I expect the police or the fire department to come. I expect to have my garbage picked up. Pick your favorite service. That's because I pay taxes so that government can provide these services.
Here's another angle. Greeks are starting to withdraw their money from the banks. It's not a full blown run on the banks yet. Krugman refers to it as more of a "jog" on the banks. A jog on the banks would not even happen in this country. A run on a bank is the nightmare scenario. That is why the FDIC tries to take a over failing bank long before folks start showing up with suitcases and pillowcases seeking to withdraw all the cash they have on deposit. The FDIC takes it over. Sends the Officers packing and opens the bank the day after it is put into receivership. Representatives are there to reassure the depositors that their money is safe. And thus the crisis is typically averted.
Although the banks pay a fee for FDIC insurance, when it comes down to it the depositors' money is backed by the Full Faith and Credit of the United States Government. I wouldn't trust the government, such as it is, of Italy with a wet match. Isn't guaranteeing the stability of the banking system a cultural good in and of itself? And let's leave the latest debacle with JP Morgan out of it. JP Morgan can handle a 5 billion dollar hickey. Indeed, its stock will probably head South which will create what is referred to in the investment game as a "buying opportunity." Ironic, non?
My larger point is this. We are going to hear lots of crazy things about money and taxes in the months to come. Arguments concerning government programs and the what constitutes the wisest use of tax proceeds have been around since Alexander Hamilton floated debt obligations to fund the Revolutionary Army. Twas ever thus.
But taxation isn't theft. It's the price we pay to keep the Social Security checks going through hell and high water. It's the price we pay to take banks away from idiots. It is the price we pay for democracy. It's the price we pay for not being Greece, Italy and Spain.
And to you stalwarts that spout what the Internet informs you was written by Ayn Rand, you recipients of regularly delivered mail who evidently expect water to magically appear when you turn the tap, to you I ask, "This is a bad thing, how?"
Like many people, I just kinda fell into what became my life's work. I got hired right before the bankruptcy lawyer left. Hence, I became the bankruptcy lawyer. And I practiced bankruptcy law for many years. I have litigated with and against various lending institutions. Over time, I came to develop a keen interest in how individuals and institutions make decisions about money and finance. This is partially why a local consumer group with a highly alliterative name hired me as a consultant.
As the line in the song by Adele goes, "People are crazy. People say crazy things." They especially say crazy things about money and taxes. Especially during an election year. Just a couple of weeks ago my friend Jennifer felt led to render a disquisition on Facebook about tax policy, of all goddamn things, for lack of a better title. While it is not known what set her off specifically, she was in high dudgeon against the nutbar notion that "Taxation is Theft."
And she rightly pointed out that while we are all entitled to our opinion in this regard, the government has to pay for police, and filling potholes and raising armies etc somehow. These things have to be done. Most of the police powers of the states and towns cannot be privatized. The good and useful things that are necessary for our security and for domestic tranquility are paid for by our taxes. Indeed, I started to join her discussion by quoting Oliver Wendell Holmes's (I think it was) famous dictum that "Taxes are the price we pay for civilization." But she was on a roll and I have learned to stay out of her way at these times.
In his column Thursday about the Euro crisis, particularly as it pertains to Greece. the New York Times's Paul Krugman made an observation about the difference between the Euro crisis and the financial meltdown of our own. (By the way, the chapter on Greece in Michael Lewis's excellent book about about the global financial crisis called "Boomerang" is entitled "They Invented Math.")It's pretty simple. A retiree in Florida was still getting her Social Security checks and still had access to Medicare despite the fact that our economy had gone to hell in a bucket. Her Greek counterpart has no such assurance from her government. Here's the column here: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/18/opinion/krugman-apocalypse-fairly-soon.html?hp
I hadn't really thought about it precisely in those terms. But he is correct. Most people in this country still believe that there is some sort of social contract between the government and you and me. When I call 911, I expect somebody to answer. I expect the police or the fire department to come. I expect to have my garbage picked up. Pick your favorite service. That's because I pay taxes so that government can provide these services.
Here's another angle. Greeks are starting to withdraw their money from the banks. It's not a full blown run on the banks yet. Krugman refers to it as more of a "jog" on the banks. A jog on the banks would not even happen in this country. A run on a bank is the nightmare scenario. That is why the FDIC tries to take a over failing bank long before folks start showing up with suitcases and pillowcases seeking to withdraw all the cash they have on deposit. The FDIC takes it over. Sends the Officers packing and opens the bank the day after it is put into receivership. Representatives are there to reassure the depositors that their money is safe. And thus the crisis is typically averted.
Although the banks pay a fee for FDIC insurance, when it comes down to it the depositors' money is backed by the Full Faith and Credit of the United States Government. I wouldn't trust the government, such as it is, of Italy with a wet match. Isn't guaranteeing the stability of the banking system a cultural good in and of itself? And let's leave the latest debacle with JP Morgan out of it. JP Morgan can handle a 5 billion dollar hickey. Indeed, its stock will probably head South which will create what is referred to in the investment game as a "buying opportunity." Ironic, non?
My larger point is this. We are going to hear lots of crazy things about money and taxes in the months to come. Arguments concerning government programs and the what constitutes the wisest use of tax proceeds have been around since Alexander Hamilton floated debt obligations to fund the Revolutionary Army. Twas ever thus.
But taxation isn't theft. It's the price we pay to keep the Social Security checks going through hell and high water. It's the price we pay to take banks away from idiots. It is the price we pay for democracy. It's the price we pay for not being Greece, Italy and Spain.
And to you stalwarts that spout what the Internet informs you was written by Ayn Rand, you recipients of regularly delivered mail who evidently expect water to magically appear when you turn the tap, to you I ask, "This is a bad thing, how?"
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