Lucy in the Rain

I wake up to the sound of rain. I glance at the clock and notice that I have overslept by an hour. It is 36 degrees outside. My backyard is a muddy, soupie quagmire by now and soon Lucy will need to go out for her morning constitutional. It is January the 12th, 67 days until Spring. It is a Monday. Beautiful.

Four million Frenchmen gathered in the streets over the weekend for a giant show of solidarity against terrorism. Among the throngs were many prominent heads of State. The Obama administration is being roundly criticized this morning for failing to send anyone other than the Ambassador to France to attend the rally. I disagree for a variety of reasons.

First, I don't recall world leaders all showing up in New York City for a Kumbaya parade after 9/11. I have nothing against these types of demonstrations, but frankly, they just aren't my style. Emotional gatherings featuring mass-produced "Je Suis Charlie" signs might make the people of France feel better and that's good, but as a matter of policy, it accomplishes absolutely nothing. France is still teeming with angry, radicalized Muslims and the next violent, nonsensical attack on innocents is coming sooner rather than later. Secondly, Obama was in a classic catch 22 here. If he hops on a plane and flies over to Paris and appears in the front of the line of world leaders he would get criticized for grandstanding, for attempting to make it all about him, of simply trying to create a grand optic. If he sent Joe Biden instead, he would have run the risk that old Joe would have said something stupid..."Hey Angela, what does a guy gotta do to get a croissant around here?" So, the President decided to keep everyone home and he gets hammered for it. That's fine with me. Being President is all about being damned if you do and damned if you don't. I suppose he could have sent John Kerry, our very French-looking Secretary of State, but no telling what old Lurch might have done or said. No, I support the President on this one.

Lucy is laying on the rug by the back door staring at me. It's as if she knows that she needs to go do her business but she knows how gross it is outside. She's got that look that says, "I wonder how long I can hold it?" I better not let her find out. So I will put on my raincoat, get the leash and a fresh poop bag and walk out into the front yard in the pouring rain watching Lucy go through her elaborate voyage of discovery, searching for the ideal, perfectly positioned six inch square of real estate worthy of her prodigious morning bowel movement. She will not be rushed by the elements. If anything, it takes her even longer in the rain. Of course, probably 99% of dog owners would be using an umbrella in times like these. Not me. My oversized black and white Titleist umbrella is far too horrifying for my Lucy. She couldn't possibly be expected to relax enough to perform her morning toilette with so menacing an object over my head. So, when finally she is done, both of us will be soaked.

Despite it all, I so completely love this dog. I love every eccentric, jumpy, neurotic, adorable inch of her. Crazy dog!

All Is Not Lost

Last night, on a whim, Pam and I went to see "Mame" at the old Empire Theatre downtown. First we had a fabulous dinner at Tarrants, then walked the block or so to the newly named Virginia Repertory Theatre. Because it was all so last minute our seats were in the balcony and the second we wedged ourselves into them I knew that I wouldn't last two minutes. My knees were rubbing against the back of the seat in front of me and we were in the middle of a row. In my nightmares, I saw a very large man reeking of cigarettes pouring himself into the seat beside me, trapping me for the duration. Quickly, I spied two lone seats all by themselves in a small cove above the stairwell in the farthest corner of the place. I made some excuse to Pam and beat a hasty retreat to claim them. I hadn't been gone two minutes when the huge, cigarette-smoking beast of a man and his two large friends arrived as if on cue. I texted Pam from our newly absconded seats. The relief on her face was palpable! The usher with the clipboard cut us a sideways glance with a knowing smile that we found out after the show was because she thought Pam was the mother of the child star in the cast! Crisis averted.

The show was wonderful. Although the actress who played Mame was an understudy,( I assume the lead actress was ill ), she did a masterful job. I remembered several of the songs from the movie version I had seen years ago. They were clever and fun. The actors were good, not great. The orchestra was superb.

It's always the same thing when I attend a concert. It started back at Godwin High School when I would listen to choirs led by Sherri Matthews. Since then there have been a stream of productions great and small that have featured my son; Nashville Symphony performances of Beethoven, Dr. Entsminger's Chamber Singers, countless other concerts from the Belmont Beltones to Handel at Carnegie Hall. I aways leave the theatre feeling better about life. Although we all live in a world that is full of despair, pain and cruelty, and at times it's tempting to believe that we are doomed...we are also capable of incredible beauty. The same world that gives us hatred and starvation, also gives us Bach. It is the most comforting, life affirming thing in the world to sit down for two hours and listen to talented men and women perform beautiful works of art. It reminds me that all is not lost.

A New Entitlement

Yesterday, while aboard Air Force One, President Obama took the opportunity to announce a new entitlement, free community college education. Alrighty then.

The proposal was short on details, like how much it was actually going to cost the taxpayers, only that the cost would be “significant” and be shared with the states who would be required to pick up 25% of the unstated cost. Here are the details that were provided:

The program would be offered to “students of any age” who were “willing to work for it” and were able to maintain a 2.5 GPA, be enrolled at least “half time” and make “steady progress” toward their degree. In order for community colleges to participate in this program they must adopt, “promising and evidence-based institutional reforms.” The President estimated that the plan could benefit up to 9 million students.

Several questions leap to the inquisitive mind:

1.     What does “willing to work for it” mean exactly? How many hours a week? What kind of job? Will someone be required to provide these jobs?

2.     What does, “steady progress” mean with respects to qualification for this program?

3.     Since this program is open to “students of any age” and will not be needs tested, is it possible that the primary beneficiaries wind up being the middle and even upper classes, and not the needy? Especially since the needy are already qualified for Pell grants?

4.     Does the requirement that State run community colleges adopt “promising and evidence-based institutional reforms” amount to an unconstitutional overstep by the Federal government which does not have jurisdiction over the educational institutions of the States? And, what are these “evidence-based institutional reforms” of which the President speaks?

5.     Since our nation currently has amassed 18 trillion in debt and still is running a dangerous annual accounts deficit, where exactly will the money for this new entitlement come from?

Ok, whenever any President or any politician for that matter introduces a new spending program, my default position is usually intense skepticism. The reason for this should be self-evident, (see large intimidating number in #5 above). However, since even a broken clock is right twice a day, a thinking person should not dismiss every proposal out of hand. For example, while I might object to transforming a college education into an entitlement on the grounds that A. we are broke, and B. this is no business of the Federal government, I must confess that there are far dumber things to spend money on that giving a deserving kid a shot at a decent education. So, maybe I could be persuaded to support this under a couple of conditions:

1.     Full financial disclosure before any votes are cast. None of this 3000 page crap that we have to pass before we can find out what’s in it.

2.     A dollar for dollar exchange of another government program for this one. For example, let’s say that it is determined by the wise men at the CBO that this thing is going to cost 100 billion. It would then be the job of the proponents of “free college education” to find a 100 billion dollar federal program, or a combination of several smaller programs that add up to 100 billion to eliminate, (I would suggest the Small Business Administration and the Commerce Department for starters).

Yes, I’m aware that the State of Tennessee already has a program very much like the President’s and that’s great since the States are where these initiatives should be coming from. And yes, I’m aware that college is free for all in Germany and much of Europe. But the fact that Europe does something does not necessarily imbue it with the ability to end all debate. Europe has its own financial time bombs, many of which make that large, intimidating number in #5 look like child’s play, and many of which might very well be the result of such a profligate welfare apparatus. However, as a reasonable man, I am willing to entertain this particular idea knowing full well that when it comes to Federal programs, an awful lot can go wrong.

I'M OFFENDED!!!"

There’s a new craze in America, a new pastime. It’s all the rage and equally popular in every demographic. Whites and blacks, conservatives and liberals, gays and straights, the religious and agnostic alike, something has finally come along to unite us….being offended.

Taking offense has become the new morning cup of coffee for vast swaths of America, from the heartland to Manhattan. It is the great conversation ender. All one has to say when confronted with something disagreeable is, “I’m offended by that,” and all debate grinds to a halt. It affords its speaker immense stature as a member of the growing legion of the aggrieved, those delicate souls of the put upon generation. Only this generation encompasses everyone at every age.

TLC offers up a reality show called, “My Husband Is Not Gay” about several Mormon men who despite being happily married, confess to being attracted to other men, and before you can say “Ellen DeGeneres” a press conference is called by GLAAD announcing their grievances accompanied by a petition with 80,000 names demanding that TLC pull the show.

Meanwhile, the parent organization, One Million Moms was busy being shocked and revolted by a Disney offering, Good Luck Charlie, because of the appearance of a same sex couple. A boycott is in the works.

Yesterday in Paris a couple of radicalized Muslims who were offended by irreverent cartoons responded by storming the offices of the offending publication and murdering 12 employees in cold blood, so at least the American strain of the offense bug isn’t quite as violent as the European variety.

Over the past few months I have seen published accounts of a heavenly host of the gravely offended. White people offended by Al Sharpton, black people offended by Donald Sterling. There was even a giant, outdoor crowd offence demonstration when a crowd of NYPD officers turned their backs on their mayor, so deep was their collective emotional scarring.

But, lest you think that your humble correspondent is immune, think again. There are a long list of things and people who offend the hell out of me. What follows is a brief list of just a few:

I AM OFFENDED BY:

1.     Reality television. Any family who agrees to introduce cameras into their home so the rest of us can be entertained by either their dysfunction, celebrity or both is beneath contempt and offends every fiber of my being.

2.      The Westboro Baptist Church. These hateful bastards are the ones who show up at funerals with the most vile, illiterate signs speaking cruelly of the dead, all in the name of Christianity.

3.     Rap music lyrics

4.     Rap music

5.     Rap musicians

6.     Donald Trump

Fortunately, as an American, there exists a remedy for #1. I never, ever watch reality television. That way I am only offended that so many others do. As far as #2 goes, the hateful bilge that proceeds out of their mouths is protected speech by virtue of the First Amendment. Inasmuch, I must learn to live with it. Numbers 3, 4, and 5 I also have the privilege of filtering out of my life by choosing not to listen. I hold similar power over #6 by never watching any television show that features his buffoonish face and toxic hair, and never, ever voting for him for President.

I feel the need to point out the fact that if something offends me it bestows upon me no special rights or privileges. The proper response should be something along the lines of, “So what?!” Life is a complicated, contentious thing. Not everything suits me, not everyone agrees with me, and that’s perfectly fine. Would I prefer it if people were nicer and more agreeable? Yes. Would I prefer if people with whom I profoundly disagree would just shut the heck up? Yes. Will that ever happen? Not in a million lifetimes. My only alternative to perpetual indigestion is to develop a thicker skin, and learn how to shrug my shoulders while saying, “oh well…”

Eleven Dead in Paris

The news from Paris this morning is horrible. The offices of a satirical magazine were attacked by heavily armed men killing 11 people. The pictures are disturbing. Free people everywhere are united in support of the French people and freedom of the press. The story is still developing as I write these words so further details may emerge that will clarify the issues here. Right now it appears that this particular publication, Charlie Hebdo, may have been targeted for its frequent publication of irreverent cartoons featuring the Prophet Muhammad. The weekly describes itself as, among other things, strongly anti religious and says it reflects, " all components of left wing pluralism, and even abstainers."

From the sound of it, this is not a magazine I would care to read, me being somewhat religious and decidedly not left wing, however they do have my respect and admiration for having the guts to actually publish satire aimed at Islam, the world's untouchable religion. I've always found it galling how Christianity and Christians are routinely mocked by Hollywood, while Islam almost always gets a pass.  There may be occasional and rare exceptions, but generally speaking, it's open season on bible-thumpers. I love going to the Onion website because I'm always entertained, but I can count on one hand the number of articles I have seen sending up Islam compared to the almost daily drubbing that Christianity sustains. But, that's fine. It's satire, and that's part of the fun. Still, the primary reason Islam gets treated with kid gloves is because of attacks like this. Islamic terrorists have sent a clear message to every newspaper in the world that if you cast the Prophet in a bad light, they will come after you. Largely, it has worked, but apparently not on this hardy band of Frenchmen. I salute them and mourn their deaths.

I shouldn't even say this, but in all candor, I couldn't help laughing a bit at one particular detail of this still breaking story. I shouldn't be laughing at anything having to do with such news I freely admit. I am clearly a terrible human being. However, when I read that during the assault, two French policemen arrived on bicycles, and after realizing that the attackers were heavily armed...FLED THE SCENE, well, the irony was just too much. What's it been now, seventy years? Some things never change I suppose!

My Dad's Wisdom

When you write a book, especially one about your parents, it occurs to you what a terribly mediocre writer you actually are. In one sense I'm quite proud of Finishing Well, but in another I'm disappointed. There was so much more I could have said, should have said about them. Reading back through the finished product is an exercise in frustration. How could I have possibly not mentioned my Mother's beautiful alto voice, the way it would carry through the house on hot summer evenings? How could I have failed to pass along all of the little pieces of advice my Dad gave me along the way? But what's done is done. Many of you have bought a copy and for this I am grateful.

Still, over the past week or so I have had cause to think about Dad. My son and I have had a couple of long text message discussions recently about various things and it has occurred to me that Dad and I never had  a similarly long conversation in our entire time together. Perhaps it was a generational thing. Men born in the 1920's weren't big talkers for one thing, so Dad and I had short, terse exchanges mostly, until the end when he was sick and would talk for hours. But when he did speak to me about important things there was always a distinctly different quality to his voice. He would clear his throat and look off into the distance before offering some piece of advice like, " no matter how bad a day you've had, everything feels better after a hot shower."

There were lots of those one line nuggets of wisdom. I haven't talked to Donnie about this but I'd be willing to bet that he heard the same ones I did:

" Anything worth doing is worth doing well."
" You always feel better after a hair cut."
" Shaving is like working. If you don't do it every day, you're a bum."
" It's not how you start a thing, it's how you finish that counts."
" There's nothing worse than a quitter."

Then there were the surprising, out of nowhere asides that he would offer, many of which would stagger me. I remember once when Kaitlin was just a baby, he was over the house for some sort of gathering and he sat next to me on the sofa where I was giving her a bottle. He very casually leans over and says, " you know that Kaitlin will learn how to be treated by men by the way she sees you treat her Mother." Whoa.

I so wish he had said more, but that wasn't him. It wasn't his generation. I much prefer how Patrick and I talk about practically everything. But there's a problem with that too. I want to pass along wisdom to my kids, not just opinions and jokes. I want the stuff I say to them to count for something. I want them to remember me for something besides wit, sarcasm, and a libertarian streak. I don't want them to remember me as merely a theological Christian, but one who actually lived a life that more closely resembled the Sermon on the Mount, than some Roberts Rules of order version of doctrine. In other words, I want them to think of me as I think of my father, as a wise man.

Back to Work

The long slumbering holiday is over. Back to work. Good.

Listen, I enjoy time off as much as the next guy, but this Christmas/New Years thing is just too much. I feel like I haven't done anything productive in a month. I've put on five pounds and my routine has been destroyed by inactivity. It's times like these when I realize that I will never be able to retire. The pressure of having to make a living, the neccesity of having to accomplish something, while troublesome at times, provides the challenge of life. Without it, boredom reins. Although I certainly wouldn't mind being rich, being one of the idle rich would kill me.

Speaking of the idle rich, my wife couldn't possibly have let the holiday season leave us without one last extravagant, over the top event. Last night's Downton Abbey season five premier saw Pam in the kitchen from 2 o'clock in the afternoon until showtime preparing an English tea party extravaganza. As is our tradition, the Fort's came over to watch the show, so there she was doing her very best Ina Garten impression. Our fine china made an appearance. There were place cards identifying the various delectables; cucumber sandwiches, egg salad sandwiches, scones with homemade whipped cream and blackberry jam. On another counter was the tea pot wrapped in a towel, just like Leigh Ann taught her, with delicate cups from the china cabinet. Of course the milk had to be poured into the cups before the tea, lest bruising should take place. Everybody knows that, right? Naturally, Lizzy had seconds.

The show didn't disappoint. It seldom does. This fact continually amazes and confounds me. If you had told me five years ago that I would freely and enthusiastically sit down every Sunday night to watch a television show about an insanely rich family of British monarchists I would have told you
that you were crazy and probably asked, " What, are they really attractive and naked?" After all, my
favorite television fare usually involves violence and suspense, Band of Brothers and Breaking Bad come to mind. But there I was last night glued to my seat, riveted by the trials and tribulations of the Crawleys and their downstairs servants.

 The Mother Country lives!