A Cappella Summary | Pokémon Red & Blue

Ok, so for most of my readers, this video produced, arranged and performed by my talented son will not make a whole lot of sense. But to people of a certain age, this was part of the background soundtrack of life back in the 1990's. My son was and still is a huge gamer. I have often wished that I had had as profound an impact on him as these video games did! Now, he devotes time and energy to reimagine the video game tunes from 20 years ago as acapella music, then performs all the parts himself in his makeshift recording studio in his apartment. Even though I am unfamiliar with these songs, his versions of them blow me away. 

Hope you enjoy.

Voting in 2020

Everybody seems to be voting early. I see it all over Facebook, people posting photos of their little I Voted stickers. Nationwide we are being told that over 75 million of us have already cast our ballots. All of which means that if we discover over the next four or five days that one of these guys is in fact a serial killer...people who have already voted are basically screwed! But, far be it from me to criticize anyone for exercising the franchise at whatever time makes them happy. I have also heard several horror stories about five hour long lines and such. My son is particularly concerned about this, reasoning that the long lines will have the effect of disenfranchising many voters who won’t have the patience or can’t afford to miss time from work to stand in a five hour line to vote...so they will give up. Perhaps. I’m not convinced. I’ve seen Americans stand in line for days to buy everything from Springsteen tickets to the newest iPhone. 

Nevertheless, there seems to be incredible voter interest in the 2020 election and it looks like this might be the highest turnout in over a hundred years. For a variety of reasons this is either good or bad news for America. No matter the numbers I will be voting on Election Day, and not one second before. Part of it is simply old fashioned stubbornness. I have been voting on the designated Election Day in my country since 1976 when this newly minted high school graduate, freshly back from a wild adventure out west, walked into a voting booth, heart pounding, and pulled the lever for James Earl Carter for President of the United States. I had no idea what I was I was doing. My understanding of politics was severely limited by my lack of life experience and my still raging and interminable adolescence. Yet, the Constitution had granted me the right to vote on my 18th birthday, and I was determined to do my bit. I remember the feeling like it was yesterday. I walked out of that voting booth feeling like a man, proud of myself for some ill-defined reason. I also felt for the first time in my life like a...citizen.

I’ve cast some dumb votes in my life, lazy, uninformed votes. All my fault. I’ve also cast votes that I have been very proud of, votes that were well-researched and enthusiastically cast. But in every case the feeling has been the same...pride and gratitude.

I used to think that if my guy didn’t win all would be lost. Such is the price of passionate devotion to politics. Now, I’m much less consumed by doomsday fears. Nothing in my 45 plus years of voting has ever turned out as bad as I thought it would. Indeed, on several occasions things turned out surprisingly well when the other guy won, bestowing on me a dose of much needed humility. But I will not here disparage those passionate people who are terrified at the prospect of victory or defeat. I understand. It’s ok. It’s not my job to tell anyone how they should feel. None of my business.

So, on Election Day, I’ll be there in my socially distant line to vote. If I end up wasting all day standing in line it will be the fault of my own stubbornness. If I breeze through in 30 minutes or less I will resist the urge to brag. Either way, I will be paying close attention to those around me. I will take in the vibe of the thing with attention to every detail. Then, you can rest assured I will write about my experience here. I will want to remember everything about what it was like to vote in 2020. My grandkids at some point will ask me.

Unbelievable

An update on my friend...

Ok, there are times in life when things happen that cause you to doubt even the existence of God, let alone his goodness. On the other hand, sometimes you feel so close to him, his presence so palpable that you can’t imagine why anyone would deny his existence. Such is the life of faith, some days are better than others. With Pam Cole over the past 14 months I’ve experienced a lot of both. There have been days when her optimism and faithfulness have been about the most inspiring thing I’ve ever seen. But, then I will hear of some almost cruel turn in her condition, insults piled on top of injury, and it infuriates me. A few days ago I witnessed both the agony and the ecstasy of her journey in one fifteen minute text conversation.

She had been having a rough couple of weeks. Getting COVID had been a low point in a season of lows. It wiped her out physically while the isolation from her grandchildren had crushed her spirit. She had vented her frustration to me on several occasions. Since such venting has been extremely rare, I took note of it. So she wakes up one morning recently with a urinary tract infection, as if she needed one more damn thing to deal with. She tells me this very matter of factly, as if she thought it was totally the sort of thing she expected would happen to her, acting like it was no big deal. “What’s a little blood in the urine when you’re fighting cancer??” I said nothing, but in my heart a storm of anger was brewing. I’m thinking...Are you freaking kidding me, God?? I attempt to change the subject with, So, what do you have planned for today? Below, I paraphrase her answer...

“Nothing special...I’m gonna go to the store later to buy a couple of cards for some friends of mine who have cancer. There’s a lady who is a friend and client of mine who had cancer years ago and all of a sudden its come back, and a guy I went to high school with has lung and bone cancer. Both of them are gonna have trouble driving spouses all the way to Charlottesville and back for treatment so I was thinking I would send them some gas money...”

Then a bit later...

“Just trying to be a good steward. Feeling very annoyed today, Just getting over Covid and now a UTI. Never ending. So I really need to spread some cheer to some people today...I know the Lord loves me and that he cares for me. I know that he has a plan for all of this. Tired of being sick but it is what it is.”

Her last chemo treatment is this Friday. She will get to ring the bell at the treatment center up in Charlottesville. I would like to mark the occasion in a meaningful way. Many of you have been blessed by her story, by her lion hearted courage, good humor, and the power of her faith. If so, maybe you could send her a get well card, letting her know just how much of a blessing she has been. I will collect them at my office and then send them all to her in a box. Mail your cards to me at my office: 

Doug Dunnevant

3761 Westerre Parkway

Suite C

Richmond, Virginia 23233

Thank you in advance for your kindness.

If Men Were Angels...

If men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external or internal controls on government would be necessary.

James Madison, Federalist Papers.

So, today I get a visit from a guy from the Office of Supervisory Jurisdiction of my broker-dealer...my OSJ. He will be in my office to audit my books and records. He shows up once a year with his notepad and noses around through my stuff to make sure I’m not a crook. I must provide full access to all my checking accounts, business and personal, plus he gets to rummage through my client files looking for any irregularities. During the rest of the year my OSJ is the guy who calls me whenever I make a mistake on an application, or to ask me to explain my reasoning for something I submitted. He’s like a traffic cop who constantly walks around the building looking for someone double parked. You would think our relationship would be strained, but honestly, Herb is a good dude. The way I look at it is, Herb is the guy who’s job it is to insure that I don’t get into trouble. It would be a different story altogether if I was up to no good. If my business model was based on manipulation and exploitation of my client’s money, I would hate Herb. Herb would be my enemy, because I would have a lot to hide and if Herb were to find out about it I would be finished.

I mention this in conjunction with the quote from James Madison that has been banging around inside my head recently. If all financial advisors were angels Herb would be out of a job. Because men are as far from angels as it is possible to be, Herb’s job is secure, his future bright. It’s the same way with governments. Limited government guys like me have to concede the fact that the amount of limits its possible to place on governmental power in large part is restrained by how dark are the hearts of men. Since the behavior of mankind seems to darken by the day, governments continue to grow larger and more powerful.

But the flip side is also true. We are, in fact, decidedly not governed by angels. The men and women in power over us, with a few notable exceptions, are a despicable lot, the halls of power are lined with self-serving, double-dealing, power-hungry careerists who would sell the country down the river for a large enough campaign contribution. Their selfish ambitions and the power of their reach must therefore be constrained...placing this republic in a classic bind. At a time in history when government oversight over the affairs of men is needed more than ever, protection from government malfeasance and abuse has never been more necessary. There are only two solutions. Either the citizens of this country need to start behaving better, or we better elect better people to public office.

Keep this in mind as you go to the polls.

A Word About My Kids

Feeling a bit under the weather today, an uncooperative constitution being the term one uses when one isn’t in the mood to share details. Suffice it to say that with discretion being the better part of valor and all, I thought it wise to skip my shift at Hope Thrift today. Now it suddenly looks dark and menacing outside adding to the general since of foreboding that fills my house whenever I am here alone. I have found that the older I get the less comfortable I am without Pam. We don’t even have to be in the same room. I can be upstairs engrossed in a baseball game while she sits downstairs on the sofa working on organizing something, but just knowing she’s down there comforts me.  A few minutes ago Bernadette and Issac came home from a day of chores, which helped, but its not the same as when the Queen returns.

Reading back over that paragraph caused me to laugh at myself a bit. What a freaking wuss I have become. I could have edited out the less than manly man parts but, it is what it is. She’s my girl, man.

I’ve been thinking about my kids over the past couple of days. Patrick and Sarah, down in Nashville, and Kaitlin and Jon in Columbia. I can no longer delude myself with the notion that they are anything other than fully grown adults doing grownup things. We want to hold on to our old familiar understanding of our kids, we parents, because its comforting. Things were in many ways easier when they were under our full time care. Now, we are largely powerless. Not that they are in dire need of our help, they are all handling the chaos and staggering confusion of 2020 like seasoned veterans. It’s just that sometimes it troubles me when I realize that I can no longer shield them from the cruelties of life. For one thing, they would resent my interference if I did but secondly...I’m not there. Everything would be easier if they lived closer...even 50 miles away. If one of them got sick and they only lived 50 lousy miles away, Pam would be there with a hot pot of chicken soup in a New York minute. But the paths of their lives have taken them to different places in different states for now. So we fret about them from long distance. 

Honestly, there’s not much to fret about. My kids are bright, inventive, hard working adults. Are they perfect? No, neither are we. Neither are you. But for us, they are as close to perfect as it is possible to get without becoming narcissistic bores. One thing I never get from any of them is whining, although every single one of them have had reason to whine over the past few years. They face whatever obstacle is in their way and cast about for a solution. If it doesn’t get solved right away they stay at it, grinding away. So much for the lie that Millennials are a bunch of entitled brats living in their parent’s basements. And its not just my kids. Most of the kids I consorted with back in my Youth group days (millennials all) have grown up to be hard working, big hearted adults who just have more tattoos and drink better beer than my generation ever did.

We disagree on stuff, me and my kids. They are wrong-headed on some things, but they have shown me that I’ve been wrong-headed on my share of stuff too. But, if they disagree with me it’s my own fault. I’m the one who taught them how to think, not to believe everything that every Tom, Dick and Harry says, to question big shots who are in charge...except for dad. They have done so in spades. 

The Social Dilemma....gulp

For the past four days I have woken up at 4:30 in the morning. The first time, I was able eventually to fall back asleep. Since then, no such luck. I guess its part of the readjustment back into the real world after a month in Maine. Maybe it’s the stress that comes with the business I’m in, the World Series, or something I’m eating. Regardless, 4:30 AM is  remarkable for one thing, it is an unsuitable hour for human beings to be wide awake.

So, I find myself on the horns of a dilemma. I have suspected, deep within my soul, that the benefits of social media (which are considerable), are not worth its corrosive effects on the mind. Last night, Pam and I watched the new documentary on Netflix called The Social Dilemma, which should probably be reclassified as a horror movie, because the premise as well as the testimony of its many former tech insiders is as terrifying a thing as I have watched in a very long time. You spend the hour and a half it takes to get through The Social Dilemma and the first thing you want to do is cancel every social media account with your name on it...right now. But, I am not the sort of person who goes in for knee jerk reactions. I prefer to be calm when making big decisions, not under the sway of inflamed emotions. So, this morning I’m thinking clearly, having had time to digest what I learned. So, what’s my dilemma? 

I used to be on Twitter. It didn’t take long for me to realize what a cesspool of ignorance it is so I cancelled it a year and a half ago. I do have an Instagram account but don’t really know how it works. I’m not on Snapchat, Whatsup, TikTok or Pinterest. But I have been on Facebook since about 2007 or so and as it happens, Facebook is the primary villain of The Social Dilemma. I won’t get into the weeds of the algorithms at play here and the accusations of skullduggery behind them except to say that I fully acknowledge that I have been victimized, consciously and unconsciously. If you want to understand more about how your entire worldview, your understanding of “reality” is being manipulated by the weaponization of information on your newsfeed, watch The Social Dilemma. If you would rather remain willfully ignorant, I get it. Don’t bother.

My problem is that there are things about Facebook that I like and enjoy. It allows me to stay connected to an awful lot of people that otherwise I would have lost touch with completely. Having said that, I must confess that I enjoyed it more at the beginning when it was largely populated by much younger people, kids I had taught in Sunday School and the College class I used to teach at church. In recent years it has become overrun with boring older people...like me. Nevertheless, I check it out every single day. For one thing, it’s the place where I post this blog. Probably 75% of the people who read The Tempest find it on Facebook. If it weren’t for that, I would probably go ahead and pull the plug right now. Actually, if one of my super bright readers could clue me in on how I could post this blog using something besides Facebook without losing hundreds of readers, I’m all ears. For now, I’m reevaluating my use of social media. Just in case you guys wake up one morning and realize that its been a while since Dunnevant posted anything, You’ll have to actually visit http://doug-thetempest.blogspot.com/ to find me.

Cheaper Than Therapy...

Sometimes jokes do a better job of expressing truth than practically any other form of communication. For example:

How many Republicans does it take to change a lightbulb?

86. 12 to investigate Hillary Clinton’s involvement in the failure of the old bulb, 23 to deregulate the lightbulb business, and 51 to pass a tax credit for lightbulb changes.

Two. One to mix the martinis and one to call the electrician.

How many Democrats does it take to change a lightbulb?

17. One to change the bulb, six to talk about how wonderful it’s going to be when the new bulb is screwed in, and ten to demand increased funding for solar lighting research.

Five. One to screw it in, and the other four to screw it up.

What do you call someone in Congress who is honest, caring, and well-read?

A tourist.