Project Update #1

I have no idea what time she came to bed last night. She was in the midst of this...on a mission. Despite being stiff and sore, she did take a break from her labor to go to her normal Wednesday night yoga class. I provided Q barbecue takeout for dinner and made sure she got some onion rings. She will be back at it today while I'm at work.

My wife...doing the jobs that most Americans won't do.

Lucy is not amused. She seems particularly annoyed by the presence in the foyer of these two wing backed chairs which were formerly in the corners of our dining room...

Consequently, she spent most of yesterday upstairs, unwilling or unable to deal with the new, modernistic feng shui of the foyer. Lucy doesn't do well with avant guard decorating concepts. And don't even get her started on the gigantic plastic bag that's covering the bookcase!!

Tune in again tomorrow for the latest on....the project!

The Wondrous Example of Harry Truman

Here's a question for your consideration this morning...How do career politicians become insanely rich? 

In America, we don't pay our politicians a ton of money. A United States senator, for example earns $174,000 a year...not exactly slave wages, but compared to most CEOs, professional athletes and entertainers, it amounts to a rounding error. The Secretary of State earns $186,600. The President of the United States gets paid $400,000. Yes, I know that the benefits are quite nice what with an otherworldly pension plan etc... But still, compared to the private sector, the owner of a reasonably successful small business in this country can earn more than the President of the United States. This is as it should be. So, the question remains...how is it that a guy like Harry Reid comes to Congress in 1982 as a man of modest means, never earns more than $194,000 a year, but now is worth over 10 million dollars? Savvy investing, I guess. But let's not pick on Harry. He's got a lot of company on the rags to riches gravy train that is public service. Even short timers who come to Washington, serve a couple of terms as a Congressman, then land of job as a lobbyist with some consulting firm, end up as millionaires. I'm not talking about the guys and gals who were already rich before they went into the politics racket because there are plenty of them on both sides of the aisle. No, no...I'm asking about the relatively normal folks who go to Washington and suddenly develope the Midas touch when it comes to their personal fortunes. It's uncanny.

Leave it to our poorest President, Harry Truman, to explain this phenomenon. Old Harry entered the White House without two nickels to rub together and left it the same way. As an Ex-President, he received not one dime of pension except for his $112.56 monthly army pension. He was given no secretarial allowance, no expense money of any kind and was forced to move back into his not very elegant family home. He refused to cash in on his status as a former President in any way: 

"I could never lend myself to any transaction, however respectable," Truman later wrote, "that would commercialize on the prestige and dignity of the office of the presidency." 

Luxuriate over the simple, decent goodness of that statement for a minute, and notice how exotic it sounds to 21st century ears. 

" An honest public servant cannot become rich in politics."

...oh, but Harry, the dishonest ones sure can!

The Project Begins....

The stage is set here at the Dunnevant house. The wife has cleared out the paint store. Bed Bath and Beyond on Broad street threw a party for its employees after she cleaned them out. Now it's time for the work to begin. 

Upstairs, in the hallway in front of the Palladian window, there is a staging area where she has unloaded all of the painting gear. Downstairs, all of the decorating finery is piled on the dining room table, new curtain rods stacked in the corner. For the next couple of days my library will be off limits. I can't wait to see how Lucy reacts to all of this mayhem. Ordinarily she isn't keen on anything that disturbs the status quo. We'll see.

I will provide you with pictures of the progress she makes. Yes, I said she. I'm sure you have noticed that I have not used words like...us or we when describing this project. That's because for my wife, this sort of thing isn't something that she feels she can risk by offering me any significant roll. She subscribes to the theory that if you want something done right, you do it yourself. My painting skills fall into the category of a ....not worth it sort of risk. I remember once when she let me use the roller on the ceiling of some room she was painting, after her arms gave out. I'm absolutely positive that as soon as I left the room she went back and touched everything up. It's not that she's a diva when it comes to painting. Let's just say that for Pam there are two ways to paint properly...her way and the wrong way! The thing is...when she's finished and you see the place, you realize that she's right!

Winston Churchill and Donald Trump.

Jerry Falwell Jr., President of Liberty University has written an Op-Ed for the Washington Post that touts Donald Trump as the "Churchillian Leader that we need"....

"We are at a crossroads where our first priority must be saving our nation. We need a leader with qualities that resemble those of Winston Churchill, and I believe that leader is Donald Trump. As Churchill did, Trump possesses the resolve to put his country first and to never give up in a world that is increasingly hostile to our values."

Vs.

Stuff they have in common...

1. They both had five children. Although, I think it's fair to say that since Trump is only 70 and currently on only his third wife, chances are very good that he will pass Mr. Churchill in this department. Winston's marriage to Clementine lasted 57 years. Donald Trump's second marriage lasted almost 57 months.

2. They both had rich Dad's.

3. They were both best selling authors. Winston Churchill won the Nobel Prize for literature for the first volume of his history of World War II, The Gathering Storm. The Nobel letter states that he won the prize not only for his seminal history, but also for "brilliant oratory in defending exalted human values." Donald Trump hired a ghost writer to write The Art of the Deal, for which somehow he failed to win the Nobel Prize for Economics.

Stuff they kind of have in common...

1. Winston Churchill served in the military from 1895-1924, serving in places as far flung as India, Cuba and South Africa. Once, while serving as a war correspondent for the South Africa Morning Post, he was captured by the enemy. He somehow managed to escape their custody, return to London as a hero and write a best selling book about his experiences.

Donald Trump attended high school at New York Military Academy where he got to get his picture taken in this cool uniform...

Unfortunately for the country, a chronic case of shin splints prohibited him from fighting in Vietnam.

2. Winston Churchill was first elected to the House of Commons at age 26, serving in that body continuously for 64 years. In his time as a public servant he held numerous Ministerial positions, including but not limited to the following...

President of the Board of Trade

Home Secretary

First Lord of the Admiralty

Secretary of State for War

Chancellor of the Exchequer 

First Lord of the Treasury

Prime Minister 1940-1945, 1951-1955

Donald Trump built this...

Donald Trump has his own cologne...

And his own collection of neckwear...

In Churchill's spare time, he was an accomplished painter...

Donald Trump starred in a reality television show.

So, as you can see, Winston Churchill and Donald Trump are indeed a lot alike. They are practically brothers. 

My First Seven Jobs

Remember a couple of months ago when this social media meme started going around where people were listing their first seven jobs? Yeah...me neither. That's not entirely true. I do remember seeing a few of them, but I didn't give it much thought...like those insipid things that pop up that say...If you love your sister, cut and paste this onto your wall. If you don't a hundred people in Kenya will die. Well, this morning, out of nowhere some woman on my Twitter feed yelled at the world..."Stop posting your first seven jobs! It just serves to illustrate your privilege!!"

Ok, this is where the social justice warriors lose me. What in the Sam Hill is she talking about? Is employment a privilege? Is the fact that someone may have actually had seven jobs evidence of their whiteness? Would she rather we were all on the public dole? Well, because it so upsets social justice warriors...I think it's time that I published my first seven jobs.

1. 1973. Age 15. I got my first summer job working for A.A. Walsh, a residential construction company which built single family homes in Hanover County. My job was to pick up trash on the job site and carry armfuls of lumber to the carpenters. I made the minimum wage of 1973...$1.60 an hour. The first paycheck I ever earned in my life was like $58. I felt like Thurston Howell III.

2. 1974. Age 16. With the help of my brother-in-law Bill Schwartz, (family privilege), I got a summer job with the State Fair of Virginia. Amoung other things, my job was to clean out horse stalls. Since the removal of dump truck loads of horse crap by the shovelfull was a more refined skill, my pay jumped to $2.75 an hour. I was well on my way to being part of the oppressor class!

3. 1975. Age 17. I can't for the life of me remember the name of the company, but I worked the summer as a construction laborer building the Southern States store on Broad Street just down from Parham Road. That was the summer where we had like five days in a row of temperatures above 100 degrees. Two of my buddies passed out from the heat while digging a footer. Good times.

4. 1976 Age 18. I got my first post-high school job as a warehouseman at Lowe's hardware on Broad Street, downtown Richmond. I worked every overtime hour they would give me and saved every dime so I could finance a cross country back-packing trip with my best friend, Al Thomason. I can't remember what the pay was...probably $3.00 an hour...$4.50 for overtime.

5. 1977-1981. All of my college years were made possible by the job I got with a material handling company at the Hanover Industrial Airpark called Trefz and Steenburgh. I worked 30 hours a week in the warehouse, mostly building wooden pallets and installing shelving and pallet racks. I started at the minimum wage and by the time I graduated, they were paying me a salary of $18,000 to be a territory salesman for them. Couldn't have made it through University of Richmond without that job. After graduating from college I learned my first lesson in the downside risks inherent in capitalism. T&S declared bankruptcy, leaving me jobless and out $5000 in unpaid commission that I never recovered.

6. 1981- 2000. I went to work for Life of Virginia in life insurance sales. I took a cut in pay to $16,000, and only took the job in desperation after the humiliation of having to collect my first and last unemployment check of $358. I figured I would work for Life of Virginia while I looked for something else. To my astonishment, I found that I actually liked the work, despite the fact that after three years, my $16000 salary went away and I was totally on my own. Don't produce? Don't eat.

7. 2001- present. Got tired of working for someone else. I determined to work for myself and see if I could make it on my own. Most terrifying decision I've ever made...but one of the best, although honestly, my boss can sometimes be a real jerk. How much do I make now? None of your business.

So, it turns out that I've had exactly seven jobs. How about that? Was I privileged to have those seven jobs? You bet I was. Any job is a privilege. Did the fact that I got those jobs as opposed to some equally deserving minority mean that I should feel guilty about my life's work? You're kidding me, right? My job history is certainly nothing to shout from the rooftops...kinda hard to feel superior to anybody while shoveling horse manure in 95 degree heat...but neither is it something to be ashamed of. 

Watch Out!!! My Wife Has a Plan...

It's that time of year again. Vacations are over, it's too hot and sticky outside to do anything fun...so it's time for my wife to turn her attention to home decor. A couple of summers ago it was painting the family room and kitchen. This year she is more ambitious than ever. She has determined that she must paint my library and the dining room, and completely redo our bedroom. Actually, that's the wrong choice of words...since our bedroom has never been done in the first place. The paint on the walls in there came with the house 17 years ago. Nevertheless, I was greeted yesterday afternoon by my wife lugging in armful after armful of decorating stuff from the car. She had hit the mother load at both Khol's and Bed, Bath and Beyond. It was an impressive haul. There were curtains, curtain rods, throw pillow covers for the chairs in the library, and the Holy Grail of bedroom decoration...the coveted comforter set. Today she is off to buy the paint and painting supplies.

You guys should see her when she gets on one of these decorating binges. Honestly, it's adorable. There is a gleam in her eye, a bounce in her step. She's transformed into the Energizer bunny! Then she starts peppering me with the questions...

Pam: I was thinking that we could hang these panels in here. The shiny grey color really brings out the design of the pillow covers, and once I paint, the rooms will flow together much better, don't you think?

Me: Yes.

Pam: But, now that I look at it in this light I'm not sure it's the right shade of blue. Of course, we just have to get rid of the wing back chairs in the dining room, or we could always have them recovered. I wonder how much Cathy paid to have those chairs at your office redone? Could you ask her tomorrow?

Me: Yes.

Pam: Our bedroom is going to be a monster to paint. But, I just love the new comforter! The colors are perfect, although I worry that they might be too bright in the daylight. What do you think?

Me: Yes.

Pam: I think if I can buy the paint tomorrow, I might be able to paint the library and the dining room this weekend and be finished by Sunday evening. Of course, the bedroom and bathroom upstairs will take forever to finish. Oh, and we will need to buy new light fixtures for our bedroom. I will be so glad to be rid of that hideous ceiling fan, and won't it be awesome to have more light in that room?

Me: Yes. Awesome.

Pam: Oh, did I show you the rugs and towels I found at Bed, Bath, and Beyond for the bathroom? They match the comforter perfectly! But I hate the way they make you use a different coupon for each item you buy! So frustrating!! 

Me: The nerve of those people...

Pam: I do worry about what Lucy's paws are going to do to this new comforter. You know, I've half a mind to use my 30% off coupon and just buy a second comforter as a back up in case her paws eventually wear this one out. What do you think?

Me. Yes. Just in case...

You will notice a pattern in our discourse on the topic of home decor. My job is to say as little as possible. I don't want to do anything that might sow seeds of doubt into her mind. Once she makes a decision about this sort of stuff she is a dynamo of determined and focused energy, the enemy of which is self doubt. This system works perfectly because I truly have no opinion on matters of style around my house...except for my library, which I was allowed to pick out. The truth is, if she came home with lime green paisley-print throw pillows I would probably go along with it....

Pam: I've decided that what our foyer needs is a velvet Elvis portrait where that hideous Thomas Kinkaid is hanging. What do you think?

Me: Yes.

See, if it was up to me, our family room would probably feature a sofa-sized painting of Dogs Playing Poker, so having Pam in charge of all things aesthetic is the right move. 

Black Lives Matter vs. Elvis

AP-Memphis, Tenn.

As Elvis Week draws to a close, this city lets loose a giant sigh of relief that no violence broke out despite the promises from the Black Lives Matter organization to, "shut down Graceland." Several news media outlets had hyped the possible confrontation between the fledgling civil rights organization and the tens of thousands of Elvis Presley fans who gather here each year to commemorate the singer's death. Instead, a few hundred protesters gathered outside the entrance to Graceland and peacefully spoke to this reporter about how Elvis is the perfect symbol of what is wrong with white America.

Kareem Lewis, local BLM spokesman, explained that although he owned a couple of Elvis records himself and actually "kinda liked his sound," Elvis still was nothing more than an "appropriating rich white cracker."

Reporter: But why Graceland? Why come to Memphis?

Lewis: Well, one, for the money...two, for the show.

Reporter: Money? I don't understand.

Lewis: Read the paper, son! Didn't you hear that we just scored 100 million in cash from guilty white liberals up north? For that kind of money, we gotta put on a show! You know..a little less conversation, a little more action, dog.

Reporter: I have noticed that this demonstration has been remarkably peaceful...

Lewis: That was our theme for the week...don't be cruel.

While the Black Lives Matters protesters were on their best behavior, part of the peace was insured by a massive police presence in the area surrounding the Graceland compound. This reporter has never seen so many policemen in one place in all of my time in Memphis. Police seemed to outnumber the protesters by at least two to one. I asked Captain Goudol Beau about the overwhelming police presence...

Reporter: Captain Beau, for such a small demonstration, this sure seems like a lot of cops...

Captain Beau: This ain't all of them neither, we've got another 100 officers positioned in case there's trouble.

Reporter: Where?

Captain Beau: ...in the ghetto.

Reporter: What would you say to people who might call this a provocative overreaction?

Captain Beau: I would say that they have...suspicious minds. You know, the people of Memphis are an easy going bunch. We can put up with a lot. You can burn our house, steal our car. Hell, you can even drink our liquor from an old fruit jar! I mean, you can do anything you want to do to us...just don't mess with Elvis.

Reporter: Well Captain Beau, I must congratulate you and your men for the tremendous restraint you have shown today.

Captain Beau: A very wise man once said...only fools rush in.

I thought that Kareem Lewis might have a different perspective on police behavior so I asked him whether his people had been treated well.

Lewis: You know, I've got to admit that these Memphis pigs have been alright. I mean, we were expecting them to knock us down, stomp on our face...slander our name all over the place. We all figured by now we would be all shook up. But it's like we've got a good luck charm or something.

So, after a very long, hot and violent summer, the nation finally experiences a peaceful civil rights demonstration in the Deep South. In Memphis there were no burning grocery stores, just burning love.

Perhaps there's hope that race relations will thaw. Perhaps there won't be a blue Christmas after all.