Big Decision

This blog made a ghastly error recently by allowing National Dog Day to go by without comment. It was this past Sunday, August 26. What could I possibly have been thinking?

You all know of my love of dogs, in particular  Golden retrievers, and specifically...Miss Lucy...

   

You also know that of all of our Goldens, Lucy has been and remains the most...er, unique. She is a bundle of energy, athleticism, and beauty with more nervous ticks than a guy with Tourette’s after three cups of coffee. Therein lies a dilemma. Because she is so high maintenance and such a drama queen, my wife and I are at odds over whether or not to take her to Maine with us in two weeks. I am in favor of it. Pam is not. A decision must be made soon. Here are the entirely valid arguments Pam makes for her position:

1. When you have a dog with you for three weeks, it limits what kind of side trips you can take since you can’t leave Lucy in a strange house (or any house really) for longer than about five hours.

2. Although Lucy loves the lake and delights in swimming and retrieving all sorts of things, she cannot be trusted to not take off into the deep woods or a neighbor’s cabin on a whim...unleashed dogs being a huge no-no in our rental agreement. 

3. It’s one thing when Lucy gets freaked out during a thunder storm and pees on a rug here at home...another thing entirely when she does it in an expensive rental home.

4. Despite the fact that Lucy is an awesome traveler, more well behaved, in fact, than I am on long trips...traveling with her makes finding a hotel mid-trip much more difficult. There aren’t as many dog friendly hotels as you might think.

5. Leaving her alone in a strange house for even short trips into town makes Pam nervous. What if there’s a loud sound and she goes crazy? What if she starts barking and disturbing others?

All of these are valid arguments.

My counter arguments are mostly emotional.

1. I miss her too much if we are apart for three weeks.

2. SHE LOVES THE LAKE...

  

3. She’s a great snuggle buddy...

So, as you can see, my wife has the better argument. What shall we do? I welcome your input.

Just A Thought...

Here’s a thought for your consideration this morning.

Back in the days before the internet, if you were of a mind to attack someone’s character you had essentially two options...gossip or the U.S. Postal Service. I am speaking here of normal people trying to bring down a neighbor, not celebrities and politicians who have always had the media at their disposal. If you really had grown to despise Joe down the street, you could start talking him down behind his back with the well chosen phrase or half truth...gossip being as ancient a tool for this purpose as is known to man. But, if you wanted to step up your game you could type a poison pen letter and make copies of it, stuff them in envelopes, take them to the post office and send them to everyone in the neighborhood with no return address. Back in the day, someone actually did this to my Dad when he was the pastor of Winn’s Baptist Church. We never found out who sent them, but they did a lot of damage. But, each of these methods take time and planning. They take a certain meticulousness and premeditation.

Not so anymore.

Now, with one careless and casual click of the mouse, you can destroy a reputation. Facebook, Twitter, online chat rooms and the like offer everyone an anonymous microphone.

I don’t know about you, but I much prefer the days when character assassination was a retail business.

One Less Patriot

I don’t remember an awful lot about my high school years. But I do remember one assembly like it was yesterday. We had all gathered in the gym to hear a man speak. He was a navy pilot from Virginia who had been shot down in Vietnam and spent years in a POW camp being tortured by his barbaric captors. His name was Paul Galanti. I listened to him tell a sanitized version of what must have been a hellish nightmare. He spoke of what it means to devote yourself to something greater than comfort. As a seventeen year old kid, I’m not sure I understood it all. How could I? 

I thought of Paul Galanti when the news came yesterday of John McCain’s passing. Few of us are ever asked to make such a sacrifice for our country. Every man wonders whether or not he would hold up under similar pressures. Would I have the courage? Or, would I break and grovel for mercy? I am supremely grateful that I never had to find out.

I bought John McCain’s memoir, Faith of Our Father’s, practically the day it went on sale. It took me barely three days to finish it. It was horrible. It forced the reader to confront the absolute worst of human character, man’s inhumanity to man. Anyone who survived such an ordeal would be forgiven for becoming bitter and angry, for spending the rest of their lives in a mad rage at the world. But, John McCain spent the rest of his life serving his country in the best way he knew how. To listen to his colleagues from both sides of the aisle testify to his character is a rare and beautiful thing.

I was never a huge McCain fan politically. I found his maverick schtick a bit tiring at times. But the one thing about the Senator that I always respected was this...the man was hard wired to put his country first. I may have disagreed with some of his conclusions, but I never doubted that he came to those conclusions out of a sincere desire to do what was best for his country...not himself. And really...in politics, what more can we ask of our leaders? We are never going to agree on everything, but is it too much to ask that our political class endeavor to advance what is best for America rather than what is best for the Democrat or Republican Party? In other words, I’m looking for...patriots.

In 2018 it has come to this...I only want one thing from politicians...devotion to the country instead of themselves or their party. With the passing of John McCain, there is one less such politician.

My Life’s Work

Put a group of ten strangers in a room for thirty minutes and the most popular question that will be asked by practically everyone of them is...So, what do you do? I have always had a difficult time coming up with a satisfying answer to this question. I know what they want to know... what do you do for a living? Even that question is hard to answer directly. Financial planner? Investment advisor? Financial services provider? I could say something like...I work with people so they can retire without ending up on food stamps...or, even better...I make sure that if my clients get hit by a bus, their families won’t get thrown out onto the streets...or...i make sure that my clients don’t outlive their money. All true, but unsatisfying, primarily because I am much more than what I do for a living...and so are you.

Don’t get me wrong, our jobs, the source of our livelihood, is an important part of who we are. But it’s not the only part, or even the most important part of our lives. So, what is? Well, it might be different things for different people. But for me, the answer is simple...

     

This is my life’s work.

The problem with answering the question, What do you do? with your occupation is that it assumes that the best way to describe yourself is how you make money rather than why you make money. 

 Men and women have struggled to answer two big time questions since the dawn of time...Who am I...and..Why am I here? I don’t claim to have all the answers, but I at least have a clue. First, my faith suggests to me that I am to have a relationship with my creator. Further, because of my faith and it’s teachings, I have a pretty good idea of how I am to treat other people...with charity, compassion and grace. Slow to anger and quick to forgive. But secondly, when Pam and I were lucky enough to have children, my purpose on this earth became crystal clear to me. The clarity of that moment has never faded. My job was to raise my kids up to be the very best people they could possibly be, to be better, in fact, than I was. Of course, to accomplish this would take no small amount of...cash. So yes, hard work, putting in the hours was necessary. But, only up to a point. 

Please don’t misunderstand my point here. I am not claiming that I was a perfect father or even that my two kids are perfect kids. All of us have weaknesses and shortcomings. But, I would like to give some unsolicited advice to any young fathers out there who may be reading this. Don’t fall for the lie that making more money equals being a better parent, that providing for them is more important than being with them. If I could sum up what I know about parenting in one phrase it would be...don’t miss the play, be at the game, show up at the concert. Actually...that’s three phrases, but you get the point. Sure, you might give up a chance to make more money, but when your kids look up and see their Dad cheering them on...there isn’t enough money in the world, man. 

So, the next time you’re at a party and someone asks you, what do you do? Whip out your cellphone and show them a picture of your kids.

Here, say proudly, this is what I do.

A Proper Ending To Dad Joke Week

So, today brings to a close a week long homage to Dad Jokes and bad puns which I hope you have all found entertaining. Even if you haven’t, I’ve enjoyed them...and that’s the important thing. But, I’ve needed a proper sendoff, a joke that captures the spirit of this effort to distract us all from the dumpster fire that is 2018 America. I think I’ve found it...

A pirate walked into a bar and sat down for a drink.

The bartender asked, "Gee you look awful, are you feeling okay?"

"I feel fine, why do you ask?," said the pirate.

"Well your leg is half missing, you have a wooden peg leg!"

"Arrr that happened a few years back, cannonball came right through the ship and took out me leg."

The bartender looked down at the pirate's hand, "But your hand, it's a hook! How did that happen?"

"Arrr well I was in a sword fight and he got me left hand, but I feel okay now."

"Okay, but how about your eye? You have an eye patch on it!"

"Arrr well just a few days ago I was looking up and a seagull pooped right in me eye."

The bartender, slightly confused asked, "How did that put out your eye?"

The pirate raised his arm, "It was me first day with the hook..."

The Smell of Progress

I visited San Francisco once. Took the wife and kids. Beautiful city. My son spent the first week of his Honeymoon in the area. By all accounts, they had a great time.

But there’s something...rotten... in Frisco.

This beautiful city has benefitted greatly from its proximity to Silicon Valley. The coffers have swollen so much at City Hall, it’s annual operating budget is now over 11 billion dollars. And from the smell of things, it looks like they will need every dime of it.

San Francisco is perhaps the most progressive demographic in all of America. It’s government has enjoyed virtually unanimous one party as well as one ideology rule for most of my lifetime, and with such hegemony of thought comes the occasional overreach. Sometimes, the government there just lets it’s progressive freak flag fly...like a while back when the powers that be decided to de-criminalize public defecation.

Ivan P. Freely, Assistant to the Under-Secretary of Homeless Affairs, explained the new policy this way:

These are merely basic, ordinary bodily functions, no different than sneezing, or coughing. When we make it illegal for the homeless to urinate or defecate in public, we are guilty of elitism, of enforcing our homeowner-centric ethos on the dispossessed.

Unfortunately, the burgeoning homeless population of the city has taken San Francisco up on its new libertine attitude towards public sanitation. Now, the cost of cleaning up the mess has been, er...piling up.

That’s twenty pounds of fresh human waste, deposited on a public sidewalk, collected by some very brave volunteers. But, public minded volunteerism has its limits. So, the city government...flush...with cash, has decided to hire five elite sanitation engineers to deal with the growing public health implications of 7,000 people using public sidewalks as an open latrine. Here is an actual photograph of them in action. And no, I am NOT making this up...

Before you jump to the obvious conclusion that you have finally discovered the absolute worst job in America, you better sit down. The annual compensation for these public servants is...$184,000. It’s hard to begrudge these poop policemen their outrageous pay packages though. How much would you demand to be paid to literally shovel shit all day? But, that’s not all. San Francisco, being a city fully in the throws of the power of government spending to cure every ill, recently announced an even more ambitious plan to deal with the number one and number two problem...

• A $72.5 million-a-year street cleaning budget
• $12 million a year on what essentially have become housekeeping services for homeless encampments
• $2.8 million for a Hot Spots crew to wash down the camps and remove any biohazards
• $2.3 million for street steam cleaners
• $3.1 million for the Pit Stop portable toilets
• $364,000 for a four-member needle team
• An additional $700,000 set aside for a 10-member, needle cleanup squad, complete with it’s own minivan

Unless my math deceives me, that’s almost 100 million dollars. According to the city, San Francisco has roughly 7,000 homeless citizens. So, the city could write every homeless person a check for over $14,000 a year with the cash they are spending to....clean up after them.

Homelessness is no laughing matter. Neither is encephalitis and typhoid fever.  Far be it from me to advise a city as Progressive as the City By The Bay, but I’m thinking they better wipe out this problem sooner rather than later. The long suffering property tax-payers out there might eventually get tired of having this problem dumped on them.

But, on the other hand, at $184,000 a year to shovel crap...who says the government can’t create good paying jobs??

In a rare moment of candor, Assitant to the Under-Secretary of Homeless Affairs, I. P. Freely, did acknowledge the difficulties associated with being a self-described Mecca for the homeless...

Sure. Compassion isn’t easy. This sanitation problem is a tough one. We were offered several competing ideas of how to fix it but none of them is guaranteed to come out right in the end.. 

In other words...it’s a crapshoot.

What To Do?

Bad news is back...with a vengeance.

The horrific grand jury report out of Pennsylvania detailing over 1,000 sexually violated victims at the hands of over 300 Catholic priests is a gut punch to any person of faith. I am not a Catholic. But this news comes as a blow to all Christians. Indeed, it is a devastating indictment of organized religion, that men, ostensibly called out and set apart to serve God, would use their power in such a vile and despicable way. As I have read the various accounts of this story, it occurs to me that this is but one state. Nearly 10 percent of the priests in that state were involved in this abomination. To do the math of extrapolation is a sickening project.

It is easy to fall into despair at such news, especially when you understand that this story fits easily into the pattern of our day. We have been buffeted day after day with stories that have rocked our faith in the great institutions of our nation and civilization. A short list of those institutions that have taken a beating of late would include...

-the news media

-the FBI

-the NFL

-Congress

-the Presidency

-the constitution 

-truth

-men

-and now...#metoo women

The prudent and imminently logical approach would be to assume that everyone out there is a lying, cheating, self serving hypocrite. That way, you would no longer be disappointed by the next betrayal. But, prudence and logic can only get a person so far. 

Of course, some have become activists of some kind or another, choosing to fight this thing or that thing. Others have just become angry and cynical, turning inward, withdrawing from the mess. Neither of these options appeal to me. First, activism only seems to feed anger and resentment. Nobody is persuading anyone of anything. Activism merely places you in a tribe of like minded people where your anger and resentment can be fed and nurtured. Cynicism takes you out of the fight altogether, and moreover..is a horrible way to live. I read a great piece in the New York Times the other day that made the case that, at the end of the day, we love our political anger, because righteous indignation has always been a comfort in confusing times. So, what to do?

You will have noticed lately that both my blogs and my social media commentary have been riddled through with diabolically corny Dad Jokes. Yes, I confess and declare my guilt. But, when I look at the running back and forth on Twitter and Facebook, I’m thinking that a few cringe-worthy puns couldn’t possibly hurt, and may very well help to lower the temperature. The interesting thing I’ve noticed about your response to these pathetic attempts at humor is that people from a wide variety of political and religious views seem to agree that they are, in fact, pathetic. Bad jokes seem to unite people. Apparently, Republicans and Democrats both find themselves laughing at jokes which are so bad, they’re good. So, even if it’s for the briefest of moments, if by posting a few jokes I can bring the warring factions together for five minutes to share a reluctant laugh...I’ll take it.

Whistling past the graveyard? Rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic? Perhaps. But...we all have a job to do.

...What lies at the bottom of the ocean and twitches?

A nervous wreck.

...I am terrified of elevators.

I’m going to take steps to avoid them

...Have you heard of the band 1023MB?

They haven’t got a gig yet.