Freshmen

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been noticing all the pictures of moms and dads dropping their kids off at college. There’s usually a shot of Dad carrying boxes or Mom sitting on a newly made bed with the freshman. Every room looks the same to me. Every room exactly like Kaitlin’s room at Cedarville and Patrick’s at Belmont all those years ago. . .cleaner than it will ever be again. The smiles on everyone’s faces look strained and fragile, as if the slightest breeze could drift by and transform them into pools of tears. For the kids, it’s mostly nerves at so momentous a chapter of their life story being newly written. For the parents, I see the Herculean effort being put into those smiles. They want so much to be optimistic and supportive. . .when what they really want to do is grieve the end of something. But, that will have to wait, at least for the car ride home.

For Pam and me the car ride home was nearly unbearable. Cedarville was seven hours away, Nashville nine hours away. That’s a lot of grieving. I remember that first year we dropped Patrick off at Belmont being the worst of all move-in days, since it meant the dawn of our empty nest years. That particular nine hour drive would take us back to an empty house. I had barely pulled out of the parking lot when I decided that we should pull over onto a side street and sit for a minute to gather ourselves. It didn’t work. Pam cried all the way to Knoxville. The first two weeks back home felt like a wake. The silence in the house was deafening. Our first sit down meal as empty-nesters featured Pam abruptly leaving the table after the blessing!

But eventually we discovered that an empty nest wasn’t all bad. The emptiness ushered in a new freedom. To our profound relief, we discovered the happy news that after 20 years of raising two kids, we were still in love with each other. Our affection for each other had managed to survive the grueling ordeal of parenting, no small feat. So, our children weren’t the only ones having new chapters written. 

Still, although your kids ultimately leave your home, they never leave your heart. The worry that has been your constant companion since the day they were born doesn’t go anywhere. You still fret about everything that happens to them. They get a new job and you worry if they will lose it. They get married and you worry if they will be happy. You wonder if either of them will ever move back to Virginia. You wonder when that first grandchild will come. You don’t even want to think about how much you will worry once he/she does!

All of this is good and proper. Change is what makes life interesting. Nothing is eternal except our love for them. Everything else a crapshoot. 

And that freshman, tentatively smiling for the camera? You won’t even recognize them on graduation day.

Beware The New Killer in the Kitchen

I recently read a scholarly article that made the case that we are currently living in the most peaceful time in the entire history of the world. That may be true, but that doesn’t mean that modern life isn’t without grave dangers. Sometimes, those dangers are an unintended consequence of what we euphemistically call...progress. For example, in our panicked rush to save the planet we have unleashed a new and deadly killer into our midst...

That’s right, metal straws. In our zeal to eliminate waste, to cleanse landfills of billions of one-use plastic straws, some wise guy came up with the idea of metal straws. My wife fell for them hook, line and sinker...

And while the concept is good, it’s always the unintended consequence, the potential for misuse that winds up biting you in the backside. Take this ghastly story, for example...

BOURNEMOUTH, England – A retired jockey died when she fell onto an eco-friendly metal drinking straw which impaled her eye, an inquest heard.

Elena Struthers-Gardner, 60, who was known as "Lena," suffered brain injuries in the accident at her home in Broadstone, England.

She was carrying a mason-jar style drinking glass with a screw-top lid in her kitchen when she collapsed. The 10-inch stainless steel straw entered her left eye socket and pierced her brain.

Her death has led to a coroner warning that metal drinking straws should never be used with a lid that fixes them in place, and “great care should be taken” while using them.

This poor woman was minding her own business, basking in the serenity of her well earned retirement from horse racing, when she suffered her tragic end at the hands of her metal straw, a possibility that the metal straw manufacturer surely knew was inevitable. Was there a product warning on the straw advising users to refrain from falling forward and being impaled through the eye? No. And even if there were, who would have the eyesight necessary to read such tiny print? Certainly not 60 year old retired jockeys.

Question: Have you ever heard a coroner warm anyone to take “great care” when using a plastic straw? I think not. In the old days, we didn’t need to walk around on pins and needles while sipping our sweet tea from Tervis Tumblers lest we get run through the eye with our straw! We all know not to run with scissors, but I suppose now it’s going to be...don’t run with scissors or walk with straws.

Is this really progress? 

Our Black Sheep

It’s what every family fears. The call in the middle of the night. The gut-wrenching panic that swells up and constricts the throat at the sound of the State Trooper’s voice. That feeling of impending doom when you see the squad car pull up in front of the house and the officers solemnly walking up the driveway. You have felt this day coming all of your life. It has been your nightmare, constantly in the back of your mind. You have always known that it would come to this. Every family has one, you tell yourself. It’s nobody’s fault, you remind everyone. You still love her despite the years of rebellion, acting out, and foolishness. But all along you’ve known that she would finally go too far and the long arm of the law would reach through the madness and administer justice. Yesterday, it finally happened. Our beloved Christina Garland finally went too far...and had the brazen gall to broadcast her sins on Facebook:

Christina: I accidentally ended up in the EZ-Pass-only lane on the Powhite Parkway tonight and could not get over to the cash lane in time! What am I supposed to do? Whom do I call? Are they going to fine me??

“Accidentally” indeed! This is a lifelong pattern of defiance. First it was innocent enough . . .refusing to come out from under the table at dinner time, failing to sharpen borrowed pencils before returning them to their rightful owners. . .and now this!!

Nobody thinks it will happen to them. Everybody thinks that it’s other families who have the problem child, that surely one so devoutly raised and nurtured would be able to resist a life of wanton crime and depravity. But, I am here to tell you that if it can happen to our Christina, it can happen to anyone. 

Thoughts and prayers would be greatly appreciated in this, our hour of need.

Hong Kong v. Chinese Communism

In case you haven’t noticed, Hong Kong is a hot mess. When the British handed the city back over to the Chinese Communists in 1997, it was only a matter of time before the free people of Hong Kong would collide with the authoritarian government on the mainland. The first protests came in 2003, then another wave in 2014. Now, with this extradition bill gambit by the Communists in Beijing, the citizens of this vibrant and democratic city have apparently found the straw sent to break their backs. As of this morning, thousands of protesters are still occupying the second busiest air port in the world, and the patience of the autocrats in power seems near its end.

When President Obama failed to wholeheartedly come out in rapturous support of the Arab Spring back in 2011, he was widely criticized for his inadequate response. I defended him at the time. Now, Trump is being criticized for his tepid support for the protesters, accused of being more concerned with getting a trade deal with the Chi-Coms than defending freedom and democracy. Now, I write in his defense. Actually, it’s his job to get a trade deal with the Chinese. It’s not his job to defend democracy around the world.

Sure, if I had to pick a side here, I’m all in on the protesters. In a perfect world we would throw everything, including the kitchen sink, at the Chinese government. Who wouldn’t prefer the triumph of free people over tyranny? But, we do not live in a perfect world. We live in a world of interconnected trade, and interconnected interests. Our desired response is limited by our inability to project power at will and without consequence. For those asking for more from Trump, a more forceful defense of freedom and democracy, let me paint you a picture.

If these protests continue much longer, and I find no evidence that they won’t, the thugs in Beijing will revert to what they know best. Does anyone remember Tiananmen Square? Yes, at some point very soon, the Chi-Coms will send in the heat. When they do, and there are tanks and armored personnel carriers rumbling through the streets, how are we exactly supposed to support democracy then? Send in the First Armored Division? Launch WWIII over Hong Kong democracy, defending one of the most opulent cities in the world? As much as I loathe the Chinese Communists...this is their problem. How many times in the past fifty years have we gotten into trouble by playing the roll of the World’s Policeman? 

What I support is minding our own business as a nation. The list of things I object to when it comes to the current occupant of the White House is a mile long, but insufficient support for Hong Kong democracy isn’t one of the them.

Boob Tube Guy

For those of you who don’t live around here, you are probably not aware of Boob Tube Guy...

For the second time in six months, a neighborhood in Short Pump has awoken to discover old school television sets deposited on their doorsteps. The mastermind behind the mischief wears a hollowed out TV set over his head, and sometimes poses for the cameras. I use the male pronoun here although Boob Tube Guy could very well be a woman. Whenever he or she strikes, all the local news rooms cover the story, each of them posing the intriguing question...why??

What is the point? Why would someone go to the trouble of traipsing around in the middle of the night delivering obsolete television sets to random upscale communities in Richmond’s West End? I have come up with some working theories for your consideration.

1. These are nothing more than college kids with too much time on their hands, doing what college kids have always done when bored.

The problem with this theory is..I believe that this latest incident occurred before most local universities had opened for business. Also, we’re talking nearly 30 television sets. Where did a bunch of kids get their hands on that many sets?

2. This is a television repair man who’s business is on the rocks, making a statement about excess. West Enders, with their constant need for more and bigger no longer have televisions repaired, they just buy new ones. Boob Tube Guy is protesting consumerism.

I don’t know...does this dude look like a malcontent? There is a certain whimsical quality to this prank, with his TV helmet and posing for the security cameras. He just doesn’t strike me as an idealist.

3. He is actually the ultimate Good Samaritan, handing out vintage tube televisions to households most likely to have big flat screens hanging in their living rooms. Boob Tube Guy knows that these new age smart screens are being used by the Dark State to spy on us, so he is striking a blow for privacy.

...but, he’s wearing a TV on his head. 

4. He’s just a fun-loving practical joker who gets a kick out of pulling everybody’s chain and getting himself on the nightly news.

I think we have a winner.

I, for one, love Boob Tube Guy. He’s a guy who has an active imagination, a sense of fun, and a commitment to quality. Have you noticed how he places each set in the exact middle of each porch? He doesn’t just slap it down all cockeyed and cattywompus. No, he takes care to place it dead center of the porch. This man has pride of ownership. If he’s going to commit Tomfoolery, he’s going to do it right. And another thing...he isn’t hurting anyone. Everyone gets a good chuckle out of it, the cops come out and load them up and take them away, and we are left talking about something besides politics.

All Hail Boob Tube Guy!!

Stupid Nature

Last night, the family gathered over at my sister’s house for lasagna. Linda had been ill during Beach Week, if you recall, and missed her night to fix dinner for all of us...so she decided to make amends by cooking the meal she had planned to cook at the beach. Yes, my sister is a saint.

The meal was fabulous and after dessert we all decided to sit out on the deck and chat. Soon, I was regaling everyone with dad jokes and the kids were romping around in the yard. The whole thing looked like an advertisement that might have appeared in the Saturday Evening Post in the 1950’s. Then...stupid nature happened.

It was a delightful evening, temperature in the low 70’s, low humidity, and thanks to the Mosquito Authority...blood-sucking pest-free. Then, Linda decided to take Evelyn down to the little kids playhouse thing that Bill installed years ago to entertain the grandkids. It features a little treehouse thing with a slide. For reasons that now escape me, I decided that what Linda and Evelyn needed at that moment was Uncle Doug acting as the slide troll. No, as a matter of fact, I do not know why I do such things...especially where Evelyn is concerned, since she has a decidedly mixed view of her uncle—part fascination, part fear, part—what tha?? Be that as it may, there I was kneeling down under the slide, preparing for my performance as...the troll...when I became aware of excruciating pain.

I had angered a freshly built nest of these hideous creatures, and one of them had come out to meet my troll challenge. He had affixed himself to the pinky of my left hand and was stabbing it with diabolical vigor. Try as I might to shake the beast off, he hung on, injecting me with poison. I finally managed to flick him away only to have him sting my right index finger before beating his hasty retreat. Now, the full effect of all of the stinging was brought home to bare on both of my hands. It’s probably been 50 years since I’ve been stung by a wasp. I had forgotten just how painful they are. Linda ran me into the house and before I knew what was happening, she had both fingers covered in a solution of water and baking soda and had instructed me to keep both hands elevated. So now my hands were slathered with white goo and my arms raised skyward like a crazed Pentecostal at a healing service! 

Luckily, I’m not allergic. Although both fingers started to swell, and the pain lasted several hours, this morning all is well.

Stupid nature!!

Jeffrey Epstein

For the life of me, I have not been able to summon a single molecule of sympathy for the death of my fellow human being, Jeffrey Epstein. The alleged billionaire, who seemed to be in the perceived influence business, rather than an actual business, and made his money by...er..uh...nobody really knows how or even how much money he made. What we do know is that Jeffrey Epstein was a horrible person who recruited underage girls for his own servicing, then provided them for the sexual gratification of a bushel basket full of very powerful men from both sides of the political aisle. In other words, he was the rich man’s pimp. The list of alleged Johns includes some familiar names...Former New Mexico Governor and frequent talking head Bill Richardson, smarty-pants lawyer Alan Dershowitz, Prince Andrew, former Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell, and of course former President Bill Clinton, a four time passenger on Epstein’s famous private jet, The Lolita Express. Even the current occupant of the White House appears on the passenger manifest from 1997...but in fairness, that was back when he was just your basic garden variety skirt-chasing adulterer, and before he found Jesus and the keys to the Oval Office.

So yeah...he’s dead now, by highly suspicious means. Whenever a man with that much damning information on so many powerful men turns up dead, it is perfectly natural to question the official suicide narrative. Within thirty minutes of the news breaking, the internet meme curators were having a field day...

Yes...this is hilarious. But any attempt to paint this as a partisan issue are doomed to failure. Once we make it through the 2000 pages of unsealed garbage that was dumped onto the public record over the weekend, the carnage from this thing will be a Who’s Who of powerful and well connected...men, and probably a few women. There will be plenty of Democrats, plenty of Republicans, and plenty of non-political members of America’s social elite. As if we needed reminding...this mess will once again serve to illustrate just how corrupting money and power remain.

The sad part about all of this? Because of Mr. Epstein’s death, almost all of these scumbags will get off scot-free. Whether he jumped or was pushed, not only did Jeffrey Epstein cheat the hangman for himself, but he cheated the hangman for all of his customers too.

How convenient.