Feeling fat?
I guess everyone’s feel a bit fat these days.
Losing a friend
It’s been tough here without Margo. She was such a good dog and good friend. I remember when I’d get sick and have to go to the emergency room, how she’d come protect me, sit with her body against mine, until the ambulance came. I miss her.
We leave for Germany on the 14th. I’m really looking forward to that and to seeing more of the towns and cities there. Also the Czech Republic has found a place in my heart. We really want to go back there, to an area so beautiful, Mark Twain used to bring his family there, as did so many others, both good and evil.
The Myanmar (Burma) cyclone has created a tragedy upon a tragedy. The country, long ill-ruled, has recently be the provice of a military junta. And now this. The U.S. Navy is standing by, ready to pour help and aid into the country, but the junta won’t give permission. A suspected 100,000 people may be dead, perhaps more. Very sad.
Margo’s gone
The vet came to the house at 4:30 p.m. and put Margo to sleep. He took her away, wrapped in a sheet, because we knew that burying her on the property would be to much constancy of reminder. This has hit me so much harder than I had thought it would and I’m still reeling from it. So is Dalia but she’s been more quiet about it, probably for my sake.
I got up before 6 a.m. and went to the store and bought her a new toy and cookies, then played with her outside for as long as I could. I had to go to bed because I’d been up all night, so Dalia took over playing with her.
We were both there when the doctor did his thing. I go hrough stages of feeling guilty, of seeing her there meeting a new person she didn’t even get to know, who she would have liked, and suddenly the world went strange on her and she fell asleep, her right lip sagged from the pull of gravity and her tongue slipped out of her mouth. We were killing her. Assassinating her. Doing it for her own good, before things became too painful for her; doing it for us, so we would have to worry every day about her while we were in Europe. Doing it. Making the conscious decision, and the follow-up actions to kill the best friend we have.
We immediately came to Reno and got a room for two nights. Dalia is skipping two days of school. She need distractions. So do I but I can’t find them. She’s being so brave, but hurting so much. We can neither do anything for the other. Except understand, understand we didn’t mean to do a wrong thing, we don’t think we did a wrong thing. Yet it feels so wrong. Why?
I took her food and water bowls away from their place so that when we get home, I won’t have to look at them and remember. But I’ll look at the empty place by the refrigerator where they were and remember.
It’s morning now on 5.2.2008. I didn’t sleep well at all. Took a lot of meds but it didn’t help. Remembering. Even dreaming, when I’d doze off. The good. The most recent bad.
I don’t know if I’ll ever stop asking myself if we did the right thing, at the right time.
My eyes hurt from crying so much.
8:00 a.m. I’m crying now.
Margo’s gone.
Never got to eat all her cookies.
She never got to play with her new toy.
Have I never felt grief before? I certainly have never felt this.
Going back to Europe
Click to enlargeMARIANSKE LAZNE, Czech Republic
We bought our tickets to Europe online tonight and will be leaving May 14. Be gone through the first week of August. We’re really anxious to get back over there. I want to spend a couple of weeks in the Czech Republic, if we can. And we have Eurorail for Germany and Austria. We may get to eastern France, and possibly, norther Italy.
It will be wonderful to get back into the flow of history, the evidences of all the amazing things humans have been able to achieve, albeit that some of them were costly in lives and tragic in so many ways. There are lessons to be learned, both of peace and of war.
Days of thunder
I talked to Dalia three times today. She picked up Camilla at the airport and all is well. She’ll be home tomorrow, late.
Margo must have heard thunder or an explosion because she came to me this afternoon, shivering and terrified, and she stayed that way for a long time. Her eyes were not only changed from the illness, they were wild with fear and her tremor was uncontrollable and inconsolable.
As she hears sounds I don’t, I hear the sounds of a coming storm of another sort. Three years ago, I felt mid-2009 would be a bad time. That distant thunder grows louder.
Reno quake swarm
Click to enlargeRENO SKYLINE
We’re a couple of hours from Reno and it’s where we do our major shopping. Reno’s grown into a huge, attractive city. It’s located a the north end of the Great Basin, at about 4,000 feet above sea level.
The last couple of days, there have been swarms of earthquakes and aftershocks there, nothing serious enough to hurt anyone, but a lot of stuff shaken of shelves in stores.
Nevada is the third most seismically active state in the U.S., following California and Alaska. Geology was one of my favorite subjects when I tried to go back to college. If I had another life, I’d like to live it as a geologist. The Earth is a constantly changing, unpredictable work of natural art, a minuscule fragment of the unending multiverse.
Me and Margo
(Click to enlarge)
Dalia went to the City today, to spend the weekend with her father, and two sisters, one of whom arrives from Germany today.
Margo’s not up for the trip so I stayed home with her, to spend as much time as I can with my friend. She sleeps a lot because of the pain, but her eyes are still clear and she can still out-stare anyone in the house. In her mind, she’s still a puppy. If there was such a thing as mind over matter, she would live for ever.
Walking on water
(Click to enlarge)
Environment: USN training.
Situation: Dive training, free-dive evolution.
Equipment: Fins, snorkel, and mask. (Okay, wise ass, swim trunks, too.)
Location: Redacted (general area, Caribbean).
Distance from shore: one-quarter mile.
Depth: 30 feet down, in 60 feet of water.
Dive partner: Name redacted. Barn-tough, rope-muscled, bright-red-headed Midwestern team partner.
Situation: While we were diving, a sunfish joined us. Sunfish weigh up to 2,200 pounds, and are harmless, and mostly feed on jellyfish (which makes them a friend). However, when one swims along-side you unexpectedly, as this one did, it looks like the moon fell in the ocean and grew a mouth and wings. Huge. That’s a small way of putting it.
I can accurately report that I was startled, and, at first, mildly frightened, but quickly was honored to share the sea with such a noble creature. On the other hand, I could swear that my partner ran all the way back to shore, because, when I surfaced to discuss the incident with him, a red haze of a cartoonish trailing light hung above the water, and he was standing on the beach. Sweet, red-headed Jesus.
Margo
Margo is not feeling well and that makes us both very sad.
Friend
My friend, Bob, stopped by last night. What a guy. Career Navy, w/ top clearance; second career as CHP officer; Ham operator; helps people all over town. Straight as an arrow, honest as they come. A privilege to know him.
Nice, quiet, productive day
The title should say it all. There is a general sense of peace at the house today. Dalia is devouring a huge book that she can’t put down. I’m downloading all the latest Linux distributions, to check them out, though I can hardly see how any could be any better than Ubuntu. It’s cooler today and the forecast calls for more of the same, through Sunday.
I did my exercises: treadmill, stairstepper, free weights, crunches. Have lost two more pounds. My back in getting stronger. There is still a lot of pain in places, like the back (damaged disks), the right knee (no cartilige), the neck (damaged disks), but overall, I feel great. The trick is to try to learn to live with each new level of pain.
Each day is a gift. I know now that I have friends, many of whom I’ve pushed away during my illness, some of whom hang in there, others, new. I’m grateful that my children are all well. And I’m blessed with Dalia, who is so gifted, in so many ways.
To all of those out there who have known me in the various stages of my life: I love you.
Spring, for a day
Last night in Reno, in prep for a day at the hospital. Spring in the Biggest Little City on Earth. Lovely.
But, better still, I got an “A” on all my medical tests and am as good to go at a soon-to-be 66 can be.
Back att home, meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Dalia’s favorite and, by stars, she does it well. I’m am so full of fun and food I need a nap, but it’s almost bedtime.
While, in Reno, I talked to my sweet/funny daughter, PattiJo, and we laughed, enjoyed not solving any problem, and felt all the good stuff a father should feel.
Over the weekend, our day of Spring ends and the cold/wind returns. Global something-or-other.
The Czechs’ appreciation
(Click on photo to enlarge)
Attached is a photo I took while we were in what was formerly known as Marienbad, Czech Republic, now returned to its Czech name, Marianske Lazne, a beautiful spa town, one of the madman Hitler’s favorite get-aways. The park in which this monument stands is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, vast rolling lawns, beautiful tree-lined paths, and numerous fountains.
Conspicuous by its position is this simple monument to Gen. George Patton. It is very touching to see it there.
It is also touching to know that the Czech Republic, new to NATO, has recently committed even more troops to the fight against terrorism in Afghanistan, as they promised they would.
When one travels through the Czech Republic, one can’t help but be impressed by the indomitable nature of these peoples, their staunchness to their principles, their interweaving webs of cooperation and friendship, developed over decades, as survival networks. Most do many jobs in order to make a living. Other than in Prague, the land and the people still work to recover, though Prague, two hours away from Marianske Lazne, is thriving, and completely untouched by WWII bombs.
Before the Nazis, before the Communists, people from all over the world traveled to this region because of its beauty and temperament. Mark Twain would take his family there, and he wrote prodigiously about it. It was a time when he could relax and play the observer, rather than be plagued by the celebrity that followed him.
The Czechs have fought long and hard for their freedom. It has been one of my proudest moments to go to that country and give a small, silent salute to these proud people.
And I can say with certainty that they, unlike so many others in the world for whom Americans have bled, do remember, and do appreciate our contributions.
Lovely Spring Day
It’s a lovely Spring day here in Q. Only a month until we leave for Europe again, this time, to stay longer. I’m so looking forward to that. Here, in the U.S., we’re in a block of time; there, one feels as though one is part of the stream of history, amidst it, part of time itself.
Dalia has been doing fantastically well at the college. Here papers are a joy to read, particularly her assessments of each Shakespeare play, as they are assigned. She has the capacity for deep human assets and has found her voice to express them.
I miss my children. I hear from them, but I still miss them. It’s a function of getting old, I suppose. I’ll be 66 in May and feel pretty good, considering how I’ve felt in past, in no small measure to the efforts of some exceptional VA doctors. But the system has slowed so much, and I’m no longer the person I was at 18. (And that’s really a good thing.)
Life is good, full of possibilities.
The “me” generation
We know we are in the midst of the “Me” generation when publishers report that significantly more memoirs were submitted to publishers this year than were submitted novels.
China sneaks around the world
It looks like the Chinese are going to be the first Olympics host to try to sneak the Olympic Torch around the world. Maybe we’re about the see (or not see) the world’s first Covert Olympics.
Older posts, from now-closed Web site
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Global unpredictability
We’ve had sunny days, but nights are cold, leaving frost in the mornings, and not allow enough time for all the glaciers to melt. My hope for global warming has been dashed against the reality that nature is unpredictable, more like a teenager than a helpful aunt. The helpful aunt would have said, “Here, dearie, here’s a nice blanket and some chicken soup.” The teenage contrarian, on the other hand, when told it was warm outside, would quickly don her ski clothes.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Sleeping in
I slept till 2:30 p.m. today! I know, I was up till 4, but that usually means 10 a.m. for my entrance into daylight. Must have been sleepy. Or I’m getting old. Or lazy. Staying up tonight for a while to watch worthless movies and reconsider McCain v. Clinton. John v. Hillary. You think?
Sort of questioning my relevance these days. I guess I live in the past so much because, like I said, in the past I was relevant. Believe it or not. And if not, I don’t really care. Because if you know me, you don’t really know me.
Not being rude, just real.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Sunshine
We’ve been having sunshine for the past couple of days, but the glaciers that have formed in the yards and along all the curbs are receding an an exceedingly slow pace. Nothing yet to encourage me to go dance amongst the Springtime flowers. More to the point, the closer to the stove, the better.
I was able to purchase a hard drive for my ailing laptop and install it. After re-installing Linux on it, all is well and useful again.
By the way, if I’d installed any version of Windows on it, it would have taken two days. With Linux, including all the tweaks, I have perfection within an hour.
Bulletin: DO NOT UPGRADE TO WINDOWS VISTA! It sucks!
Sunday, February 24, 2008
I didn’t write this but I wish I had
Here’s a rather good comment that I happen to believe, from an unusual source. It’s the beginning of a set of movie reviews about American embassies, written by D. Maass , on Film.com:
“As a red-blooded American, I have a secret chamber in my heart reserved for nations that declare independence. The geo-political circumstances might be slightly beyond my grasp, but I’ve always got a few metaphorical sparklers within arms. How can I not be in love with these lines from our own Declaration of Independence?
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
So, when Kosovo declared independence from Serbia this week, my heart beat a little faster, my steps sprung a little bouncier. But then, when, 150,000 Serbian protesters rioted at the US Embassy in Belgrade and a few “thugs” lit our embassy on fire, I realized that it’s exactly this kind attitude of mine that inspires that kind of violence.
It’s a strange paradox of values for me. But one thing I’m solid on: supporting our ambassadors and Foreign Service officials. They’re risking their lives at the front lines of the diplomatic war for peace and harmony.”
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Bad hard drive
The hard drive went out on my relatively new laptop, the little Vaio I bought in Germany at the military PX. Not the military’s fault or the PX’s, either. The box has been running hot ever since I got it but I thought maybe it was just the way they worked. Besides, it’s cold outside and I didn’t mind having it warm my lap.
But it bought the farm tonight. Too bad I only have five or six other backups. Yeah, I know, I’m computer crazy, but if you leave out the word “computer,” you’re also accurate.
Joining the club
It’s my understanding that the entire upper half of the U.S. in receiving the dubious gift of snowflakes at this time. We are. Again. The glacier that is our yard hadn’t even melted yet and here we are with a deceptive soft blanket of new snow on top of the icebergs.
Hey, I hear that an old classmate, Gary Convis, has retired to live less than two hours from Q, in Truckee. I’ll bet he’s up to his Class of ‘60 butt in show. That’s on top of the infamous Donner Pass, where, when you get hungry, you eat your friend. Well, someone did, once upon a time. Now, Truckee is a stone’s throw from our favorite town, Reno, and is amidst a number of ski lodges. Also less than an hour from Lake Tahoe. Congrats, Gary. Ya done good.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
PattiJo’s good heart
My daughter, PattiJo, had some symptoms that might have indicated cardiac problems, but a thorough testing process (thank you, daughter, for doing it!) has revealed she has a good and strong heart.
They enjoyed their trip to the Caribbean so much she said their current “five-year plan” might be up for reconsideration. The tropics are appealing to her and her husband Jerry.
I had a wonderful, long, and very important (to me) conversation with my daughter, Sandy, on Saturday. We must have talked for an hour, though I didn’t time it, and I came away from it feeling closer to her than I have in a long time. She is happy and has found a real help-mate in life, a man she calls the most “moral” person she’s ever met. I agree. Orvil is a real man, a man who makes a commitment and sticks with it, with love and honor.
One of the great rewards of life is to see your children happy.
The Glacier
The sun has been out for over a week and yet the snow lingers. Here, in the low humidity, there is little water to see when snow actually melts. The piles on the lawns and streets become imperceptibly smaller as days move on, but this week, they may be supplemented by more snow.
I hope it doesn’t snow too much. I have an appointment with my psychiatrist Friday in Oakland. This brilliant doctor has kept me alive and has helped to make the last part of my life the best part. I continue to need his help to dig myself from under the debris of war.
Dalia has written two amazing papers for her classes at the community college, where she is taking a full load for fun this semester. One, on “The Taming of the Shrew,” rates Kate as a potential “Cosmo” girl, using quizzes from several of the magazines. Another, and assignment, is an interview with one of her classmates that is not only well-written, it is full of a kind of humanity that may open unknown doors for the student himself.
I’m very proud of her.
I talked to my sister Jo Anne today. She is such a magnificent human being. She has strengths that are absent in me but that I admire so much. One of her current projects, now that she’s retired, is tracing our genealogy, using the latest tools of DNA. If anyone can unravel the puzzle of our ancestry, she can.
Dalia got an “A”
Did I mention Dalia’s gone back to school at the community college? She’s taking a full load, more or less just for fun. One of the classes is Spanish. Here first test was today, in Spanish. She got an “A,” and she was as excited as I can imagine she was as a child.
She loves to learn and she’s patient, but she’s also very smart. I won’t talk IQ, but it’s high.
There’s nothing she can’t do. Except hurt people.
I’m proud of her. Very proud.
Still sick
I’m still sick. And am having a reaction to the oral steroids. Can’t sleep well. Jittery and emotional. Well, emotional’s not unusual.
Friends
For a long time now, I haven’t known how to tell friend from foe. I am always uncertain about friends. I am constantly checking. There’s a reason. I misjudged an enemy once.
I have a friend now. His name is Bob. I’m pretty sure he’s a friend. If he’s not, it’s my fault.
It didn’t snow
The big news here is that it didn’t snow yesterday. We have snow and ice piled high everywhere. Today there is even some sun, though it’s still below freezing out there. I think the snow’s going to be around, even if it doesn’t snow again, for a long time. This is one of the worst winters in history up here in the Sierras. I can’t wait for spring
Emergency Room
Yesterday, I spent most of the day in the emergency room of the VA hospital in Reno. My breathing had gotten so bad, I, and they, were afraid I had pneumonia. But I didn’t. And my heart checked out okay. The problem is that I have a fibrosis of the lungs called interstitial lung disorder, a hardening of the openings of the lung sacks. It’s probably caused by my asthma, and six separate pneumonias over the years. That makes it difficult for the lung sacks to discharge their contents. And when I have a respiratory infection, as I do, things get worse. So I’m on antibiotics, steroids, and three-times-a-day inhalation therapy.
Dalia helped me through all this, and stuck with me all the way. Since I take so many medications that slow my reactions, I no longer trust myself driving, so she does all the driving, which made for a long day for her, because she’d had school all morning. (More about that in another post)
I met some wonderful, exceedingly competent people in the emergency room and they treated me as though I was the only person there, when, in fact, every room, and the hall, was full. But that’s the way the VA treats their patients.
That is why the VA is the best health care system in the world. They take care of millions of people, and they do it at a cost of $1,500 per year less than MediCare can. And believe me when I say that VA is infinitely better than MediCare.
I worked hard for my government. And now they’re fulfilling their promise and working hard for me.
Opiate or Appetizer?
My wife and I recently read together an essay that postulated the reading of non-literary books could be considered involvement with an opiate. I disagree with this thesis by first asking: Who chooses what is literature? Next, I wonder if this kind of casual, “non-literary” reading is a “opiate,” or an “appetizer.”
A book become you, and you become it, says Toni Morrison. You agree with it, you argue with it, you rejoice, you are sad. And it sits upon the bookshelf, a friend, to be called upon, time and time again.
Reading, finding words that fit, define the previously undefined. Reading expands expression by expanding vocabulary, and most important, the usable vocabulary. Reading, according to brain scans, produces the nearest equivalent to real experience. This would seem to indicate that any reading is capable of being good.
Furthermore, one can’t judge for one’s self what kind of book hone has read until one has not only read that book, but others. It is with books as it is in music: the classics are in the eye and ear of the beholder.
George Bernard Shaw copiously read detective novels on a park bench, when he took a break from working. Toni Morrison reads mystery novels in her spare time. There are many other examples of great thinkers who devour what we have come to call “quick reads,” as a form of relaxation that is much more suitable than, say, watching TV, or playing the Internet with sales full of vapidity.
The mind, just as the body, craves variety to sustain its health. Caviar and foie gras, in a steady diet, would create illness, just as constant exposure to someone else’s idea of classics would stupefy and stagnate the mind.
Even popcorn and chocolate have their place in the human diet and heart — as do their literary equivalents — in the reading habits of a balanced intellectual being.
Snow of every kind
The old story about Eskimos having so many words for snow? I think we’ve had every damn one of them. Fine snow, fat snow, wet snow, dry snow, and all the degrees of wet/dry, fat/fine snow in between.
The only kind we haven’t had is Stop! snow. It’s cold, never above freezing, boring white, icy, slippery, and I’m continuously c-c-c-cold. Speaking of which, Dalia has a cold, I’m getting a cold. I wheeze like a cheap accordion. At night I wake up wondering if the garbage truck is picking up the cans and the noise is just me trying to breathe.
And now, friends are sending me links to videos that suggest I might not look good naked anymore.
But if you think I’m going to try to prove them wrong in this weather, fagedaboudit. Nobody sees me without layers of clothing until summer.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
The Stardust of Neil Gaiman
The movie, “Stardust,” is taken from the novel of one of my favorite writers, Neil Gaiman. Neil wrote another magical book cum movie, “MirrorMask.” Those few who saw MirrorMask were enthralled by it. I can’t go to the movies, but I’m anxious for the day I can see Stardust.
And if Neil needs more credentials, he also wrote the screenplay for “Beowulf.”
But he snagged me a long time ago with novels like “American Gods,” “Anasi Boys,” and “Coraline,” a children’s-style book that is also being brought to the screen, starring Dakota Fanning. He also writes the illustrated novel series, “Sandman.”
And when he collaborated with Terry Pratchett, to write the novel “Good Omens,” the result was one of the funniest novels I’ve ever read (Pratchett is a satirical genius who work rest easily on that plateau I reserve for The Best Writers).
Without being specific
There are reasons I read lots of history books and spy novels. There are reasons I identify with movie characters who are the lonely, misbegotten men who try to untangle the webs they woven. It’s too late to do anything about it, but it might not be too late to understand it, for all the good it will do.
Spies are the interfaces between countries, the real interfaces, not the diplomatic word-mincers who parrot the pipe dreams of ever peace-pleading president or out-gunned two-bit tyrant. Each spy takes an oath to lie, cheat, steal, and to break the laws of other sovereign nations. So why is what they do so perplexing to people who are eager to point their gnarled finger and shout, “J’accuse!”?
Spies give peace a chance. So do diplomats. That’s why so many diplomats are spies.
Nailed by an ice age
We are held in the vicegrips of a minimalist Ice Age here on Magic Mountain in Mellow Valley. No day has exceeded the freezing point, nor has there been a 24-hour period in which some small amount of snow hasn’t fallen.
Most of my joints have nails in them and I have writer’s cramps from writing heating fuel bill checks. I long for Global Warming. Or at least Regional.
Needed: atonement for not having read Atonement
I wonder how many people will see “Atonement,” never having read the book? Ian McEwan is simply brilliant.
So many people, so little time
So many people have attended art school or an art appreciation class, so many people make photographs and the cameras are so good, and there are so many people on the planet from so many countries, it becomes clear, just by what can be seen on the Net, that people understand art now, take good pictures, and select such nice things, art is no longer the haven of the elitist, the rabbit hole down which you can jump to save your bored soul.
The trend is to put pictures on blogs or Web sites and even on news sources. The more pictures, the fewer words needed, they seem to say. Words are vanishing.
It’s masochistic to try to be the best at anything these days. Hemingway had it easy, what with five billion fewer people to compete with him. But if more and more people come to rely on pictures, perhaps writing will return as an esoteric art form in which the depraved can once again find succor.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Caribbean Blues
Daughter Patti called today, excited, having just taken a picture of a barracuda. She and mate are there on business/pleasure. I was once there on business. Join military; insert here.
She noted the “real” Treasure Island,” the “real” Gilligan’s Island. The one thing about which I’m certain: her excitement, first time seeing the Caribbean blues. Travel = new thoughts. New thought expand us. Can’t wait till she sends me the picture of the barracuda.
In the beginning
“We are that strange species that constructs artifacts intended to counter the natural flow of forgetting.”
William Gibson
I resign. It’s Zebra Spring.
We have Spring. Zebra streaks of snow linger on higher mountain slopes and nights are still cold. I am told I’m impatient for Spring’s comfort. Impatients is a luxury of youth. Old men like me should cherish time, every tick of our arbitrary clock.
All the weary, cold moments of Winter, when my joints ached and my lungs gurgled, I hovered over the photos of our trip to Germany and the Czech Republic, their warmth of memories good company on the bleakest nights and frigid mornings.
I am so tired of trying to do my part in the war that so many of you despise, some of you don’t believe is going on. I can’t, nor can any of my bother and sister warriors, tell you want it is like, what we feel, because some of us still don’t know how we feel. But most of us still honor the oath we took, to do everything, include die, to protect the most remarkable accomplishment of humanity, the Constitution. Having said that, it’s not evil or wrong that you don’t understand. It’s just lonely for us.
But I am so tired of fighting, it’s time to retire my mind, long after my Honorable Discharge was granted. I want to relax my grip on the knife, the pistol, the rifle, the code books, the operations. The memories will stay, but I must relinquish my duty station. People better than I will take over the responsibilities.
I am all of them, and they grant me the privilege of continuing to be one of them, because every one of them is me.
So no more parroting the press and trying to impress into the minds of people that there is more to this that they are seeing on TV, more to it than they are being allowed by the press to know. The press has been irresponsible, biased, and have put the lives of my brothers and sister in arms in danger and they have compromised secrets that jeopardized lives and cost government treasure. They have prolonged the war by being more on the side of the enemy than on the side of the people who are fighting it.
I resign. Would you willing to be take my place, your cause and mine, our country.
Hearing from old friends
The high school class of which I was a part is in the process of planning a reunion, the 50th. I’ve been hearing from, and writing to, a number of high school friends, and nothing could make me happier. Our generation was, by all accounts, a unique one, full of innovations we handed off to the next generation. I’m proud to be a part of the Class of ‘60.
Friday, we drove to Oakland, where I had one of my regular meetings with the brilliant VA psychiatrist who has handled my case for almost a decade. A humble man, it is difficult to thank him for all he has done and continues to do. I’m proud of my service to my country, but it was not done without some ugly residue. He is the best guide I could have, down a long dark tunnel, toward the ever-brightening end.
The nightime Space Shuttle Endeavour has just lifted off. Every time I watch this process, I am never less thrilled. These were the dreams of our generation, to live on a safe earth and to explore space. The earth is far from safe and space has barely been penetrated. But our generation has not lost its dreams. It will all happen, but perhaps not in our alloted time in this miracle called our life.
Freedom and news
Having once been a long-time part of media — specifically, news media — I’d like to comment on the current state of those who present us the views we ultimately adopt about our country and the world.
“Gotcha” journalism.
“Tusk-tusk” journalism.
If-it-bleeds-it-leads journalism.
“Hit-piece” journalism.
Slanted journalism.
“Told-you-so” journalism.
“Ratings-driven” journalism.
All of these descriptives of the new, cynical kinds of journalism of today apply much more than what was once the pinnacle goal of new: objective journalism.
It seems that once news media admitted that it couldn’t be absolutely objective, it stopped trying to be objective at all.
News, for the most part, is no longer news, it is conjecture. Prognostication. Crystal-balling, with the hope that you’re right and the other crystal balls are wrong, to further your career.
Freedom of the press is a requirement of a free people, so long as the press tells truth, to the extent it is able to find it. And so long as it tries to find the truth when it is not available.
Regardless of political affiliation — John McCain’s defense is not the objective of these thoughts — one can see an example of how bad the press has become by reading the recent New York Times story about John McCain.
The New York Times was once one of the reliable places to pursue truth, but this article — and other within the Times’ recent history — is so poorly formulated as to not be worthy of even a high school newspaper. In fact, I have read high school newspapers that do better jobs of separating truth from innuendo, rumor, and unsubstantiated claims.
What kind of freedom will this country possess if the best of our media are no longer trustworthy sources of information? In a world as complex as ours, clarity is mandatory. It might be too late, but it seems to be a responsibility of ours, as a free people, to at least try to demand that the press return to the telling of truth, and to turn its collective back on the ratings-drive, advertising-driven, politically-motivated free-for-all that has become our daily newspaper and television sources of information.