Odd Week

What a strange week. There are times in life when, like the pretty nurse in Penny Lane, you feel as if you're in a play. It's as if you're the central character in a production of some importance, but you don't know your lines. That was me this week. It wasn't all bad. I wrote a very nice piece of profitable business, on which I will no doubt pay my fair share of taxes, confirming my reputation as a prodigious provider for my family. But the rest of the week was odd.

For reasons not entirely clear to me I have been in charge of telephones and Internet service at my business. When we built the place I drew the short straw and was assigned the job of finding a phone system, and then arranging for Internet and phone service. It isn't possible for anyone to be more ill-suited for such a task. I'm a creative thinker, a writer. My intelligence has always been limited to literature, music and history. Mathematics and the hard sciences leave me cold. I can't fix anything mechanical, never have cared a whit about what's under the hood of my car, that sort of thing. Anyway, in my roll as "the phone guy", I have been looking to consolidate all three services ( phone, Internet, and cable) with one provider, which, I was assured, would save us nearly $400 per month. Yesterday was "installation day". I knew I was in trouble withing 5 minutes of their arrival when the technician took one look into the phone closet, then asked me.."Who's your IT guy?"

ME:  Um..we don't have an IT guy. But if we did he would probably be me.

TECH GUY: Well, who do you get your data feeds from?

ME: Data feeds?..Wha..?

TECH GUY: You've got some sort of hybrid analog/ electrical system here and I need to have someone who can wire your router, and coordinate the transfer of your IP address into this new interface, so your network will work properly.

ME:.....but I just wanted a new phone service so I could save $400 a month. Hybrid..eh what?


It went on like this for ten minutes or so, me speaking halting English, he speaking very confident and rapid-fire Klingon. Ultimately I had to call the whole thing off because the girl who gave me the money saving quote failed to pick up on the fact that we needed 12 lines, not 5. So, all was for naught.Four hours of my life that I will never get back were spent feeling like a complete moron.


Then I stumble upon the "Life Of Julia" web slide show put out by the Obama campaign which illustrates in cartoon form the wondrous benevolence of Barack Obama's policies on the life of a composite woman named Julia from age 3 all the way to age 67...or as Clement Atllee would say, from "cradle to grave". It was an astonishing thing to watch. Julia enters Kindergarten fully prepared only because of the existence of "Head Start". She then does well in school and doesn't get fat only because of new nutritional requirements on school lunches mandated by government. When Julia becomes of a sexually active age she gets free birth control from her government health care plan so she can "concentrate on her life without worry". When Julia graduates from college her minimal student loans have a low affordable interest rate only because of the moderating hand of government price controls. When Julia decides to "have a child" ( no husband appears in this narrative ) she has prenatal tests performed and receives quality medical care only because of the wonders of Obamacare. etc.. etc.. No mention is made of how much any of this costs or who is paying for it. The striking thing about Julia is the fact that she doesn't resemble any of the women I have known in my life. This child seems totally bereft of Independence. Every accomplishment in her life is presented as a consequence of the existence of a paternalistic, caring government. The one thing Julia does that shows even the slightest bit of initiative..starting a web-based business, was only possible because she got a loan from the Small Business Administration. As I watched the slide show this disturbing thought came to me. The very fact that someone at team Obama thought that this was a good and persuasive  thing, that this would attract voters rather than repulse them gave me a chill. Fifty years ago, no self respecting Democrat would portray women in this way, as helpless, fragile flowers who without the lifelong intervention of a compassionate and all-knowing government, would wither on the vine of life. But, today, I live in a country where this kind of government is celebrated and promoted in slick graphics on the website of the President of the United States for all the world to see.

To top off my week I went to the doctor for a check-up. The news wasn't the greatest I've ever had at a doctor's office. On the way home I turn on the radio to hear that Elizabeth Warren, democratic candidate for the senate from Massachusetts, had listed her race as American Indian on her application to Harvard to improve her chances of acceptance and promotion at that fine institution. Evidence of her racial heritage consisted of the fact that her great grandfather had "high cheek-bones", and that her great, great, great, great grandfather married a woman who put Cherokee on a marriage license application in the 1800's making Ms. Warren 1/32nd American Indian. Ms. Warren,  meet Julia.

I believe that cloud that descended over my mood this week is what the Psychiatrists call.."alienation".

Freedom of the Press...Overrated

As is my custom at 6:30 in the morning, I scanned my computer screen for news headlines. Here are just a few that greeted me on Thursday, the 3rd of May, 2012:

"Blind Man Exposes Himself...at Association For The Blind"

"Homeowners Association Sues Returning Vet Over Backyard Swing Set"

" Computer Glich Summons 1,200 For Jury Duty, Causing Massive Traffic Jam"

"Man Attempts Robbery With Underwear On Head"

It's time to admit it..Freedom of the Press is overrated. In fact, I believe that this country would benefit greatly from a total news blackout for say, a month. I nominate August. It's hot, and most people are at the beach anyway. Seriously, what has a "free" press gotten us? The Today show. Matt Lauer, with his 20 million dollar salary asking George Clooney why more people don't love Obama. The New York Times, the alleged newspaper of record, hasn't endorsed a Republican candidate since, I don't know..Teddy Roosevelt, and yet still insists that it is politically unbiased. Fox News, where amazingly, every journalists they have ever hired to read the news just happens to have blond hair and a great rack.

What do we as citizens gain from all this news anyway? Thanks to the 24/7 news cycle, we have virtually unlimited access to information on everything from the price of cotton in India to what Lindsey Lohan threw up for dinner last night...to what end? Are we better informed than say, a typical housewife in 1963 who's hometown  had one newspaper, and although her TV could only pick up two channels, she never missed Walter Cronkite reading the news every night? How on earth did she survive without instantaneous access to the daily tracking polls measuring President Kennedy's reelection chances? For heavens' sake, how could she possibly have made an "informed" decision without knowing that he was swimming naked with Marilyn Monroe in the White House pool?

Freedom of the press..ppsssht...how about freedom FROM the press? Every year when I go on vacation, I have a rule. My only source of news can be the local paper from where ever I happen to be. In Maine, I'm treated to the Lewiston Sun Journal. In Key West it's the Key West Citizen. Myrtle Beach offers up the North Myrtle Beach Times. Each of these fine papers offers everything I need to be properly informed...local weather, and a quality sports page with easy to find box scores. I turn off CNN,  FOX,  ABC, NBC, CBS, MSNBC, CNBC...and after a couple of weeks, my IQ has risen 10 points. My attitude about my country, the world, and my place in it improves exponentially with each day that I am not treated to every gory detail of it's sorry state. So, it turns out that Ignorance is not only bliss, it's also healthy.

A Night Out With The Siblings

I have an older brother and two older sisters. That makes me the youngest. They are all wonderful people. But last night I did something with them that I can't ever remember doing...ever. No, we didn't all read Shakespeare together..we went out to dinner complete with spouses and everything. There were no kids or grand kids. Our parents weren't there either. There were menus and waitresses...the whole nine yards. We weren't celebrating anyone's birthday, no three day weekend was involved. We simply picked a Ruby Tuesday's in Fredericksburg so Donnie wouldn't have to drive so far, and met for dinner.

It's not that we never eat a meal together. We probably are all together for meals a dozen times a year or more, but it's always at Mom's, or Linda's and it usually involves birthdays and is almost always on a Sunday after church. This time we were seated in the bar. It was really quite shocking. I half expected my Mother to suddenly appear to scold us for eating a meal in such close proximity to alcohol.

Donnie was late, having driven all the way from Maryland still in his postal service uniform since he worked all day. As he walked in we all yelled.."NORM!!" We had decided to meet to discuss some family business, but soon it was just a typical Dunnevant get together. After ordering appetizers, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. When I returned I asked, "What did I miss?" Linda answered, "Nothing. Paula just got in an altercation with a drunk over there for using foul language." There would be no more bathroom breaks for me. This was going to be a fun night!

Although no adult beverages were consumed, our fellow patrons would be forgiven for thinking otherwise. We Dunnevants talk at a rather high decibel level about even the most benign subject. So, as the discussions proceeded into politics we were in full-throat-ed shout-mode. We talked about Obama, a Chinese postal worker who brings his lunch to work everyday in a midsized suitcase, the miracle that is the Washington Nationals' 14-6 record, and someone Donnie works with named "Avis Davis, NOT Mavis".

The seating arrangement was strategic. The four siblings were in the middle with out-law spouses on the perimeter. As we began to talk business, Ron and Pam would lean in towards the center so as to better hear the conversation. Bill refused to be distracted from the giant rack of ribs he had ordered and showed no interest in joining in the conversation except when he abruptly asked me, " You gonna eat that pickle?"

After an hour or so of discussion and in response to my blogpost about Martin's having ruined Ukrops, Donnie pointed out that the same thing had happened in Maryland to his favorite grocery store. It had been bought out by a Norwegian company with the  phonetically challenged name of Ahold....with the "d" being notoriously silent. Hilarity quickly ensued as all of us took turns using the company name in creative sentences like..."Where do you work?..Oh I work for the "ahol" down the street!" And so on... This went on for another 30 minutes since we all had to wait for Bill to eat the three desserts he had ordered. By the time he downed the last bite of Apple Brown Betty, our ribs were sore from laughter, and we all were wondering how come it had taken us so long to plan a night like this.

I tipped our long-suffering waitress generously.

Local Woman Is Last To Admit That Martin's Sucks

SHORT PUMP,VA--  Beth Orinstein, of Wyndham became the very last grocery shopper in the west end to realize that Martin's really does suck late Thursday afternoon after it took her 20 minutes to find a jar of olives. While all of her family and friends had come to the conclusion months earlier that Martin's wasn't fit to carry Ukrop's jock-strap, Beth had stubbornly held on to the hope that Martin's wouldn't turn out to be a crushing disappointment.

"I just wanted to give them a chance, you know?" Mrs. Orinstein said as she tried to steady herself with a mint-chocolate milk shake at Chick-fila. " I guess everyone dealt with the death of Ukrops differently. I just couldn't bring myself to accept that they had been bought, so I just pretended that nothing would change. After all, they didn't take away my rainbow cookies and White House rolls..how bad would it be?"

Mrs. Orinstein, a mother of three growing boys, was delighted back in February of 2009 when the only noticeable changes in her Short Pump Crossings store seemed to be the hideous nuclear waste green uniforms the employees were forced to wear. The still friendly, if somewhat embarrassed workers still took her groceries to the car for her. Her favorite Ukrops meals to go were available for her to buy at the last minute for dinner on those days when she fell asleep on the sofa watching the Young and the Restless. But gradually Beth began to notice the subtle changes, and soon she went into full denial.

"I just couldn't deal with the sense of loss, the relentless disappointment. So I guess I just pretended not to notice when they totally re-arranged all of the aisles in the most annoying way possible. It's like one day I could have shopped for a week's worth of groceries in thirty minuets with a blind fold on , and suddenly it takes me ten minutes to find the condiment aisle."

As Beth stares out the window, her eyes begin to fill with tears and her hands start manically working the straw of her shake. Keeping alive false hope for two years has clearly taken a toll. I ask her to describe the olive incident in more detail, but she just sighs heavily.

" Like everyone else, I have to admit that it did bother me when they took down the "Let's All Go To Church This Sunday" painting. I mean, I don't actually attend church, but it always made me feel better when I saw that thing hanging up there. And yes, it was annoying when every time I needed something on a Sunday I had to go to that dreadful Food Lion. And, there was something endearing about having to stop by Krogers to buy beer and wine on the way home. But today, I just wanted to buy a bottle of olives for God's sake!! What moron thinks to put olives on the baking aisle?!"

As her frustration begins to pour out in torrents now, other Chick-fila customers start to notice, and begin to nod their heads sympathetically, their expressions a mixture of understanding, sadness and anger. " Of course, I suppose I should have asked Mr. Creepy Customer Help-Guy where they were, but then he would have followed me around trying to make conversation for an hour! I want olives, I don't want to make a new friend!! And what's with the grocery carts full of discount wine and beer everywhere?! WE GET IT...you sell hooch! Oh, and how about that tacky seasonal aisle they added, with all that kitschy plastic junk that you used to have to go to Walmart to buy?? One day I look up and an entire wide aisle is devoted to crap that costs less than a dollar. Seriously, the next time there's snow in the forecast..to hell with it..I'm staying home!" As we got up to leave, teary-eyed customers stood and applauded, a scene worthy of a Frank Capra movie.

I thanked her for the interview and being willing to admit that she was the last hold-out, the last person in Short Pump to understand the complete community devastation that the arrival of Martin's has visited upon us. In the half-empty parking lot, she stood beside her Yukon Denali for a photograph. When I got back to the office I tried to reach an official at Martin's for  comment. No one in management agreed to be interviewed for this article, but an anonymous low level purchase agent did admit that the transition has been more difficult than company officials had expected saying only, "For what it's worth, we underestimated the bitchiness of our customers."

In a related item, officials at Bill's Barbecue, Pleasants Hardware, Ben Franklin, The White House of the Confederacy, the Coliseum, and each statue on Monument Avenue all have denied that they are the targets of hostile takeover bids by a consortium in New Jersey.

The Fifth Commandment

I've been thinking about the Fifth Commandment a lot lately. "Honor thy father and thy mother..". What does it mean? When I was a child it's meaning was clear. My parents were the authority in my life. They fed me, clothed me, and provided a roof over my head. My mother, through the pain of childbirth, brought me into this world. My father taught me right from wrong, the value of hard work. They both instilled in me a feeling of well-being, that I was loved and cared for. My job was simple. "Honor thy father and thy mother". That meant no back talk, do what I was told, show them proper respect, try not to embarrass them in public.

Now, I'm a father. I have two kids whose job it is to honor me. They do so in amazing ways too numerous to list here, but in summary, they never back talk me, they follow my suggestions, for the most part, and they have never embarrassed me in public or private. On the contrary, I am always eager to inform people that Patrick and Kaitlin are, in fact, my children, if for no other reason than to see the shocked expressions on their faces when they realize that someone as goofy as me could have produced kids with such intellect and refinement.

But, although I am a father, I am still a son. My parents are both in their eighties. They have reached a hard season, a time of  struggle, a time of need. How to honor them? How much time is the proper amount of time to qualify as suitably honoring? What is the correct amount of deference I should show to them when their ideas and wishes are the wrong ones? In the past two years it has occurred to me that it's very much easier to honor your parents when they are happy and healthy. When pain comes, bringing anger and fear with it, honor becomes illusive.

Declining health and the inexorable march of time often conspire with each other to rob us of our dignity. Our parents become entirely different people than the ones who raised us. But I find in scripture no dispensation from the fifth commandment, no time limit, no bail out provision. So, I must find the middle ground between telling them hard truths that they don't want to hear, and giving them the respect that they still are owed. I must honor the commitments I have made in my own life while still finding time to be there for them.

The odd thing about this is that there are two conflicting truths doing battle within me. The first truth is that I have not done enough to fully honor my parents during these years of pain. The second truth is that no matter what I do in the future, it will never be enough to satisfy them.

And still I'm left with the clear and plain words from the second chapter of Exodus.."Honor thy father and thy mother, that your days may be long upon the land that the Lord thy God is giving you." I just pray that my days aren't too terribly long.

Rainy Sundays and the "Church Decision"

It's Sunday morning. Overnight a cold front moved in from the west and spread low clouds and a soft cold rain. Looks like it's going to rain steadily all day. Pam is making pancakes. The prospect of church attendance hangs precariously, like the sword of Damocles, over our heads. Soon a decision will have to be made. Do we submit ourselves to the discipline of our faith and not forsake the gathering of ourselves together in worship(as is the habit of some)? Or do we give in to the overpowering desire for an uninterrupted day of domestic bliss, including but not limited to, eating, reading and relaxation? Sensing the spiritual tension, Pam has dialed up Christian music on Pandora.

Perhaps if we listen to worship songs in the background all day this will serve to mitigate the damage. Or maybe the dulcet tones of The Old Rugged Cross will only make us feel more guilt. We could always tune in to channel 12 and watch the service on television. Yes, our church is televised and has been continuously for something like a thousand years, a source of great pride for our Media Ministry. But watching your own church on television from the comfort of your sofa in your pajamas brings very little comfort. You see all of your friends in their nice clothes, friends who did the right thing and made it to church. They might be bored, they might be day-dreaming about being at the beach, they might be thinking about where they will go to lunch afterwards instead of listening to the Pastor's sermon, but they are there, and that's the important thing.

To help the decision making process, it always helps to do a Ben Franklin close. You know..that thing you do by making a list of the positives and negatives on a sheet of paper? Ok here goes...

CHURCH ATTENDANCE POSITIVES:

1. Spiritual pride that comes with the knowledge that you overcame the sin of laziness.

2. Unique benefits of the group dynamic of actually being there as opposed to watching on TV.

3. Stirring music with lyrics that tell the story of our faith, and the comfort that comes from hearing the voices of others.

4. Fellowship of  close circle of dear friends.

5. Inspiration drawn from a powerful and relevant sermon drawn from scripture and the hard crucible of life lived fully engaged in the 21st century.

6. Lunch with friends afterwards.


STAYING AT HOME POSITIVES:

1. Being in your pajamas until it's time for lunch.

2. The possibility of an unplanned nap.

3. Having time to read, think and write uninterrupted by plans.

4. Freedom to indulge wild hair of everything from gardening to house cleaning.


CHURCH ATTENDANCE NEGATIVES:

1. Boredom and annoying predictability of liturgy.

2. Having to sit in a pew for over an hour.

3. Having to endure the occasional, mind-numbingly juvenile lyrics of what passes for "praise-music".

4. Trying to ascertain what possible relevance the sermon might have to what I face on Monday.


STAYING AT HOME NEGATIVES:


1. Guilt

2. The nagging feeling that I'm missing something vitally important.

3. Guilt

4. Guilt


Ok, so that about covers it. It's now 8:54. Decision time is roughly 30 minutes away. T-minus 29 minutes and counting actually. Pam says "We should probably go." As usual, she is right. See ya at church.

Prepare To Be Jealous

My kids got me the coolest birthday present ever. I've been proudly showing it off at the office. Everyone is jealous that they don't have one, although they don't admit it. Instead, they throw their hands up, look at me with perplexed fascination and say something snarky like..."What, are you 12 years old?!"..which is code for, "that's the most awesome thing ever and I wish I could get away with having one of those babies on MY desk!" Here's a picture of it in all it's awesomeness sitting menacingly atop my printer...

Its called the USB Desktop Missile Launcher. It plugs into the USB slot on your computer and from there I can access its awesome camera display and pick my targets (unsuspecting fellow workers who happen to wander into my office). I simply press the arrow keys to line up the coordinates and then I press the space bar and it fires a nerf-like projectile with stunning speed and accuracy. If that's not enough, the firing of the missile is accompanied by an amazing sound effect of explosions which serves to further startle the victim. I have to say that it has been quite a while since I have received such a practical and useful present. It's the gift that keeps on giving. I have only scratched the surface of the manifold capabilities of the DML. It says in the manual that I can activate attack mode via Skype! So, as long as my computer is on, I could initiate a launch sequence from the comfort of my home office via skype. Now, this is why America is the greatest country ever. We keep coming up with amazing products like this. Uh..wait..says the danged thing is assembled in China.