My Olympic Fashion Commentary

I am so psyched. I get to do something today I haven't done in over a month...yard work!! That's right, I love yard work, cutting the grass, trimming the lawn, gathering up sticks and debris, and ridding the back yard of Lucy's bowel movements. Oh...and the fact that it's going to be hot and humid out today makes it even better because it means I will be a smelly, sweating mess after I'm done, virtually guaranteeing that I will have shed at least two pounds. Win, win.

But before I get at it, a word about the opening ceremonies of the 2016 Olympics. I watched maybe fifteen minutes of the thing. Pam, my Olympics-loving wife, sat firmly ensconced on the sofa, fully intending to watch from start to finish. I discovered this morning that she didn't even make it to the D's of the parade of nations before falling into a coma, meaning that she missed this...

Not bad. The guy holding the flag is a dead ringer for Michael Phelps...no wait...

But for 2016 the winner of the sharpest look goes to the Aussies hands down. 

.

...and I don't even like seer sucker that much, but somehow the Austrailians looked awesome in it.

Ok, that's my first and last fashion commentary. 

My Immigrant Encounter

Yesterday it was time for a haircut. Unlike my wife, I'm not very particular who cuts my hair. I usually go to one of those "guys only" places and roll the dice. It's a different girl every month practically, but they all seem capable so what the heck, right? Well, yesterday I got a new stylist...Anna.

Anna shook my hand and introduced herself with a timid, whispering voice. Her smile seemed forced and cautious. She was Hispanic. Her English was fine but she spoke with a thick accent. Making small talk, I observed that she must be new since I had never seen her before. "Yes...I am new. Would you like the MVP?" 

Anna stood out like a sore thumb. Unlike the usual loud, flirtatious banter common at a where guys get their hair cut, her attempts at conversation were whispered, polite and careful. Mostly she went about her business with single-minded concentration. There was an odd sadness about her. Still, she practiced her craft with great gentleness and care. It was a great haircut.

When I went to pay, I entered a more generous than usual tip in the gratuity line of the ticket. When I gave it to her and she saw it, she actually lifted a hand to her mouth in astonishment, looked at me with tears in her eyes and whispered the word...gracias.

The subject of immigration is a lightning rod issue nowadays, although for millions of people like me the issue isn't immigration itself, but rather...illegal immigration, which is no mere distinction without a difference. I have no idea whether Anna is an immigrant or an illegal immigrant. I would assume that since she has a job and speaks English, she is probably here legally. If not, then my first instinct would be to find the owner  and throw the book at him/her! In my opinion, the real villains in the illegal immigration saga are the employers who hire them. As for Anna, well that's where I get mushy. Even if she is here illegally, I have a hard time working up any indignation towards her. When I met her, she was in hour seven of a ten hour shift. She looked exhausted and lost, and yet she smiled and did her job with great care and skill. It's very hard not to root for someone like Anna. 

Of course, the cynical reader might point out that perhaps I would feel differently about the Anna's of the world if they were all trained investment advisors, competing in my business, willing to work for half the fee. True. But, to compete in my line of work, Anna would have to be here legally. There are just too many federal paperwork requirements in the investment world to overcome without proper documentation. Still, it's a valid point. But, as a human being with a beating heart, I suppose I have a gigantic weak spot for anyone willing to leave hearth and home to come to America seeking a better life. I want Anna to make it, and I'm not interested in throwing her on a bus and sending her back where she came from arbitrarily. But, while my heart beats, it doesn't bleed. We are a nation of laws and we must enforce them. Opening the borders to all comers, no questions asked is national suicide...hence the problem.

The solution has to contain elements of both the rule of law and enlightened compassion. Crafting that solution will require people of good will, intelligence and imagination in the halls of power.

Good luck with that.

What to Watch For on Inauguration Day

With every passing day it becomes more clear that on Inauguration Day 2017, Hillary Clinton will be taking the oath of office. I take no delight in pointing out the fact that I have been writing this for over a year now. But, it didn't take superhuman powers of observation to see how this all was going to work out, just a healthy level of skepticism. Still, the most disturbing part of her victory will be the fact that it will, for her, validate a lifetime of lying. When she places her hand on the Bible in John Robert's hand on that cold Janurary morning she will be smiling inside, secure in the knowledge that all of her machinations, all of the deceit, disingenuous maneuvering, and influence peddling was all worth it, that in fact, honesty, transparency and fair dealing are for chumps. She will have ridden a life long wave of lawless narcissism straight to the top of Mt. Olympus and from her perch she will look down upon all of the little people with freshly energized contempt. She will gloat over all of those who questioned her ethics, all of those who warned of her soulless appetite for power, of her complete lack of defining principles other than self preservation. She will think about all of those who made fun of her appearance back in college. She will think about the Lewinski humiliation, the humiliation of having to work for Barack Obama. She will think about those insufferable Benghazi parents, she will picture the faces all of those Bernie Sanders kids with their self righteous anger and contempt. Now where are they, she will think as she says, "I, Hillary Rodham Clinton, do solemnly swear," I'll tell you where they are, she will think, they are back to their miserable pedestrian lives, and I am where I deserve to be...President of the United States. 

Hillary Clinton is about to be exultant over all of her enemies, real and imagined, forever driving a nail in the coffin of the concept of personal integrity.

....and the most horrifying part of it all is, it will probably beat the alternative.

Favorite Photographs From Maine

I have complied my favorite pictures from Maine. It was difficult to sort through the hundreds of them taken while we were there, but these are the best...

When you tell people that the lakes in Maine are clear...this is what you're talking about.

How much is this memory worth?

A full moon rising over the lake at nightfall.

Just me and the ducks...

The view from Mt. Battie. That's the gorgeous town of Camden and Camden Harbor.

Patrick and Sarah kayaking on Hobbs Pond.

The whole gang after an Eco-cruise of Penobscot bay where we saw scenes like this...

And this...

Perhaps the most beautiful small town library in the country...

Made even more beautiful with these people standing in front of it.

A two minute drive from Camden and a mere twenty minutes from Hobbs Pond...the Atlantic Ocean.

Meanwhile, back at the lake, I couldn't possibly fish without Lucy...

I had just jumped into the lake and there was Lucy getting more air than I did, coming in after me.

My kids, enjoying River Ducks ice cream. What could I do? They had been good that day!

My two best girls on the float...

Perfect shot of Lucy. What in the world was she thinking, looking at such a place for the first time?

A Top Ten List No Nation Wants To Be On

Oman

Iraq 

Saudi Arabia

India

Malaysia

Ethiopia

Libya

Sudan

Mexico

Algeria

Whenever you see any of these nations in the news it's usually because someone has whipped out an AK-47 or machete and slaughtered a bunch of people. Sometimes it's because someone has blown themselves up at a crowded market, or driven an explosive-laden truck into a police station or something. You hardly ever see a headline about one of these countries announcing an exciting new vacation resort being built. No international conferences chose these countries for their annual meetings. Neither do celebrities choose to build exotic getaway homes there. Why?

At first glance one might say...poverty. Well, yes, some of these countries are quite poor, but not all of them. India does quite well in spots. Saudi Arabia has plenty of wealth. A second look might suggest the scourge of radical Islam. But, the last time I looked, there weren't a lot of Muslims in Mexico. So, why do so many terrible things happen in these countries? 

ANSWER: This is a list of the ten hottest nations on the face of the earth.

I dare say that if my wife lived in the Sudan and had to shop for groceries in an outdoor market in 110 degree heat, it wouldn't be long before she too would be sporting a bomb vest!! Everyone who knows Pam assumes her to be the kindest most loving person they know...an observation which is generally true, but let the air conditioner go on the fritz around here and it's like I'm sharing the house with a cross between Jack the Ripper and Charles Manson. So, when she casually responded in Maine to news of a murderous rampaging truck driver in Nice, France with a plaintive plea, "Why can't these people just come to Maine?"...she wasn't far from the truth.

So, as we soldier on through the rest of this brutal summer weather, let us say a prayer for the unfortunate souls who reside in places like Kuala Lumpur. And the next time horrible news comes to us from places which feature scenery like this....

...lets not be too quick to judge!

Heat...I had almost forgotten

This morning, for the first time in quite a while, I dressed for work...white dress shirt, dress pants, dress shoes and a tie. I left my house and walked to my car in the garage, started it, turned on the air conditioner and drove to my office. It was 8:00 am when I arrived. The short walk from the car to the office door wasn't too bad, a little muggy, but not so bad. At noon, I walked outside of my air conditioned office towards my car and was welcomed back to Short Pump properly. The air was heavy and damp. The power of the wall of heat that faced me on my short walk was staggering. But, I reminded myself that having been gone the entire month of July, I had missed the worst of it. Today was what passes for a cool spell to my beleaguered Short Pumpians, the high temperature only expected to reach 90.

But then...I reached my car.

My Cadillac CDS had spent the past four hours sitting in the sun, soaking it all in on a spongy blacktop. When I opened the door and got inside it was like...it was as if...I need to give this some thought. How to describe the heat coming at you from the inside of a car in Short Pump...in August?

Picture a Malaysian whore house... in the midst of a power outage... at 4 o'clock in the afternoon...in the middle of monsoon season.

How about the prospect of hopping an empty cattle car and laying on the metal floor with the doors closed as you inch your way down the tracks outside of Bangalor, India in April.

Imagine you're unlucky enough to be a woman in Saudi Arabia and are forced onto a chain gang laying asphalt dressed in a full body hijab.

Ok...maybe not as bad as that, but after being in Maine for a month, it was pretty awful.

Good to be back...

Made it back to dear old Short Pump at 2:30 this afternoon. Have spent the past few hours getting reacquainted with my house. It seems bigger somehow, but the yard feels smaller. Lucy was quite surprised to be back. It was as if she never expected to ever come back here...and she was fine with that. But now that she's back, she's a very happy dog.

The mail had been collected by the US Postal Service all month, and delivered to us in a double grocery bag. Took me thirty minutes to sort through it all. Based on my consumption behavior over the past thirty days, the marketing colossus which is the American banking industry saw fit to send me no less than eleven credit card offers. I took surprising joy in ripping all of them up. There were several bills and a few checks so, some good, some bad.

It will be the same tomorrow at work, some good, some bad. It was actually that way in Maine too...more good than bad but still a bit of both. Such is life. Our month on Hobbs Pond was a delight, a treasure trove of memories that can never be taken from us, making them even more valuable as years go by. But every one of them was made possible by the very mundane things done here in Short Pump, the work, the day to day.

So, I don't despair at returning here. I miss Maine. I count the days until I can go back. But I will never resent the here and now or wish it would pass. Tomorrow I get to go back to work to make it all happen again. I have missed the people there. They are every bit the blessings to me that the loons on the lake have been. Come to think of it...I get to be surrounded by loons all year!

Pam is at Martins replenishing the shelves. Lucy is happily asleep on her sofa spot, and I am writing this in my library while listening to a live performance by Duke Ellington...Take the A-Train...

Good to be back...