Another Nine Digits

Preface:

Back in early 2002, I wrote a piece defending Bush’s decision to bomb Iraq. However, if you were to take a look at that piece, you will clearly see I was opposed to that action, but assumed that a bumbling Bush had accidentally cut off all other viable choices. Silly me. As history unfolds, it appears Bush may turn out to be the Dick Van Dyke of the White House. Do you remember how Dick used to trip over the ottoman? Every trip, bump of fall was so perfectly clumsy, it was hard to believe it was in the script.

However, having been opposed to the action, I was still among those who were repeating the mantra,”I support our troops.” And if “our troops” didn’t include those with stars on their shoulders, I likely still would.

Today:

I was listening to Imus on the radio this morning. Well, actually I was listening to Howard Stern, but he went into a long commercial set so I switched over. By the way, Ed Bradley is interviewing Howard about his move to subscription radio on 60 Minutes this Sunday. Even if you don’t care for Howard, this should be a good piece. But I digress.

Imus is bantering with a Washington reporter (sorry I didn’t catch her name) who is talking about the breaking news. Seems the Pentagon has a consultant that takes stories written by US servicemen, translates them, and plants them in Iraqi newspapers. Come to find out, the Pentagon even owns a radio station and a newspaper there. No big surprise. Certainly information is key to controlling the political environment. Our on media has been “influenced” significantly in recent years. It is a defendable strategy.

What caught me is that this Republican spin doctor has a $100 million dollar contract. Nine digits! Now, if he were really that good at covert operations, perhaps there would be justification for a significant price tag. I am sure those incidental expenses can add up. But if he were that good, how come I am hearing about him on the radio? His operation is toast.

Notice I did use the word, “Republican.” I believe it is important to point out that this job was not posted on the bulletin board. There was no bid process. The Pentagon reached for an operative within and created a line item that makes the $200 hammers look like a bargain. The administration most likely picked the operative. A Democratic administration would probably have done the same.

I am not objecting to the strategy. Although I personally feel this is a less win-able war that Viet Nam ever was – and probably less justifiable - I understand the military complex is charged with waging it. My objection is that there appears to be total disregard for cost control. These career militants have never had to make a profit. For a country so proud of its business acumen, our military is run like a teenager with a pocket full of daddy’s credit cards. But the shame is, the names on those credit cards belong to our children and our grandchildren.

The price of gas at the pump has come down a lot in the last month - but the true cost of oil has never been higher. Instead of paying at the pump, we have charged it - transferred it to the National Debt.

Over the next 20 – 30 years, literally trillions of dollars will be passed to the next generation. They are going to need it!

Sparky

Note to my kids: Don’t bother getting in that line for a share of the trillions. They are not being divided evenly – or according to need!
posted by Sparky 9:38 AM

Thursday, July 21, 2005

A few weeks back, a "stay-at-home mom" friend of many years changed direction. Some of our mutual friends didn't get it. The action and the reactions prompted my writing the following in her honor:



Armor All

High above the dirt and sweat
A castle nobly surveys the terrain
Wherein resides a perfect family
Inconvenience - their closest call to pain

Her entry two suits of armor sport
One proven worthy in battles large and small
The other finely fashioned – never tested
Dusted often – yet n’er to leave the hall.

Each day the king to battle calmly goes
Each night returns his victory banners flown
Each day the queen remembers squirish days
When she too trained for dragons yet unknown.

None of castle fair could understand
How queen could shed the weight of jewels and crowns
Slip into armor rusty from disuse
Gone now to champion unnamed towns.
posted by Sparky 5:37 PM

Friday, October 08, 2004

Florida Bigots Hide Behind Hood

The KKK was once very visible across Florida. The familiar white hood disguised the perpetrators of injustice against blacks and those who cared about their rights. We are so fortunate to have that period in our past... or do we?

The familiar white hood has given way to a much less recognized but even more feared - Glenda Hood. Appointed by Governor Bush, coincidentally brother to President Bush, Hood has gone about her role of overseeing the upcoming elections with great care - making sure that a maximum number of people, particularly blacks, will not successfully register, and if registered, will not vote.

In the 2000 election, the world focused on the hanging chads which affected a few hundred votes, while thousands were thwarted in their attempt to be counted. In Jacksonville alone, several votes were thrown out, primarily form heavily black precincts, due to a very confusing ballot that had candidates for one office on two separate pages with no attempt to call attention. If you voted on both pages, which several THOUSAND did, you vote was disqualified.

In many locations, voters would show up at the polls, only to find out they had been transferred to another, unfamiliar polling place even though they had not moved. Others had polling places moved altogether without adequate information on how to find them. May went home in disgust.

And there there were the rural panhandle counties where "random highway roadblocks" were set up to do vehicle checks - on election day - between predominantly black rural communities and their polling place.

"Wait a minute! You are talking history. Those problems have been corrected. You are just a sore looser."

Florida has converted to electronic voting machines. No longer can you cast two votes for the same office. This is an improvement. However, these machines have no paper backup. There is no way to re-examine the results. All we can do is compare the number of votes with the number of voters - which does not guarantee anything - and there is no recourse.

There are already several lawsuits in state and federal court against Glenda Hood, all with a common theme - she is doing everything within her power - and beyond - to thwart registration and to make voting more difficult. Hmmm. Seems that getting the most voters to come out and cast a vote is only one way to win a Florida election.

Now I need to back off. I do not really believe the current administration is trying to deprive black voters of their rights. Not at all. They only want to deprive black Democrats of their rights. In a state where over 80% of black voters are registered Democrats, chances are pretty good 4 out of 5 votes you deny were intended for the D column.

Take a look at Republican stronghold Duval County (Jacksonville). The Assistant Supervisor of Elections, acting for the Director who has had heart trouble, has denied every proposed accommodation. He has one polling place for early voting where most urban areas have over 10 - and that one is downtown in an area with virtually no parking, far from the neighborhoods of the voters in question. His belligerence is just one overt indication that this election is stacked. He is also disqualifying a huge number of new registrations for very minor imperfections in their completion - days after the deadline to register so they cannot be corrected.

"This is the kind of rhetoric we usually hear from losers after the election. Getting a head start?"

No, I am giving a heads up. The Republican administration in Tallahassee is aggressively working this election - tilting the playing field. Now is the time to take notice. Now is the time to point the spotlight so the honest Republicans can see what their brethren are up to.

If you have read some of my stuff, I am not enamored with the Democratic ticket. I am, however, enamored with the democratic process. If nothing changes, both will be dealt a serious blow here next month. It will not be a death blow. This is still the best system in the world. But with our help, it can get better.

Glenda Hood is not the problem. She is the hired help. We all need to take a good look at those behind the Hood. These are the ones who divide. Public service is for the common good. We all need to work for a time when the common good is principle, not a slogan. For when those responsible for conducting an election go about their business with the intention of disenfranchising one voter, they disenfranchise all of us. And it doesn't matter whether that one vote is for or against your candidate, for we are all in this system together. When we agree to abide by majority rule, that presupposes we welcome the majority to vote.

Contrary opinions sent to my email - sclark@complus.net - will be posted here.



posted by Sparky 1:43 PM

Monday, September 20, 2004

Mail Call

Recently I offered a group of friends the opportunity to ask any question about life, provided they were prepared to read the answer. I had one taker. She wrote quite the thoughtful question with several parts. Following is a slightly modified version of my response, revisited here because it addresses questions shared by many, often in silence. I begin by establishing a basic viewpoint:


Come with me to the beginning, assuming there was a beginning. That is another subject. WE are the power that is creating planet earth and other things – but for today, planet earth. WE are the creative force, which goes by many names, not material here.

So WE create a variety of interdependent plants and animals, one of which is people – either through creation or evolution – no matter. Why? Why create people? Does the world need people to exist? No. Are they an important link in the food chain? No. Do WE need them to accomplish something for US? No. WE can create anything WE want without them.

Then why this species? Does there have to be a reason? If the answer is “No,” then there is no answer for your questions. People are just another form of ant with no mission, other than to propagate and have more ants, and to nurture and defend the ants already in the colony. So let’s assume the answer is “Yes,” there is a reason.

Let’s try sport. WE create people to form into teams and compete against one another. People are like football, a spectator sport. WE are the spectator. Lame idea - unworthy of OUR creative powers. The teams are grossly uneven and don’t even play by the same rules. What purpose is there in that?

Let’s try personal competition. Let’s have a giant power grab and see who rises to the top. Why, there’s Bill Gates… and Adolph Hitler… and Julius Caesar… and George Steinbrenner… and many others. So what? Did WE create people so they could climb to the top of the people pile? Nope. It just does not measure up to the design quality WE have built into all the rest of nature.

What if WE create people with varying abilities, environments, birthright advantages, sexual orientations – WE just make them all different and let each compete to be the best he or she can possibly be. Much better plan, but incredibly unworthy or OUR attention.

But what if WE put a piece of OURSELF in each of these people so WE could observe who WE are. By placing OURSELF in countless different abilities and situations WE could see US. That would be worth doing.

Now we have a purpose, but for this to work, none of these people can totally understand what WE are about. That would change the game, so to speak. So instead, WE let them use their individual and/or collective talents to determine who they are and why they are. In the process, they will create their own games. It is reasonable to assume some; possibly most will see the games as their reason for being. They will get caught up in the games, and in fact, become the games.

But some, maybe only a few, maybe all eventually, will realize that their only purpose as people is to seek – who they are. All the rest of “the game” is their playing field – the world, the society, the monetary system, the grasping of possessions, the creature comforts – all tools for discovery. It is important none of the people have the ability to see the whole. WE are the whole, invisible and ever-present.

Now to answer her questions:

If you feel that something is missing in your life... or maybe not exactly missing, but you feel there could be more, but you are not entirely sure what it is...

You have choices. Ignore the feeling. Live with it. Seek to understand. Relax and allow yourself to be comfortable with who you are. And more – many more choices, from which you can select none or several – change when you change. The feeling is part of who you are. You can fight it or embrace it as a gift.

if you feel so many creative ideas bubbling just under the surface of your mind, but you can never get close enough to unleash them

Perhaps you may want to focus at times. You might choose one to the exclusion of others and investigate that bubble. You may use all of your life force on one bubble – or try each bubble – or any combination. You choose. Try viewing your condition as “with bubbles,” but the price of your gift is that you cannot grasp all at once. There are others who sense few bubbles – some none at all.

if certain songs bring tears to your eyes but no one seems to understand why, if poetry wakes a very special feeling inside you, but you cannot find a way to let it out

Many times, fears (and tears) are triggers. The stimulus itself is of little note. For you, it triggers a previous unresolved thought/feeling/action. Embrace the tears. Let them speak to you. Do not expect others to understand. They do not have the pieces to the puzzle. You have the pieces. When you are ready to put them together, you will. Until then, you will have the opportunity of tears.

The finding a way thing is a bit different. You “cannot find a way to let them out,” by definition. As long as you believe you cannot, you cannot. If you want to, you cannot. Wanting is the same as not doing. Once you believe you can, you can. It is that simple, but not easy. You can.

if you long to lose yourself in magical stories, only to find they are not real

People lose themselves in magical stories. It can be a peaceful place, but the price is often loss of ability to function independently. Take heart. No one else lives totally within your story. You are unique in all the universe. In that way you are lost in your own magical story. Much of that story is created solely by you. Parts are created by group thought. Still other parts were set in motion for you to interface with.

Everybody wants to run away sometimes. It is buried in your “fight or flight gene.” The feeling of wanting to “lose yourself in magical stories” is a natural avoidance of things painful in your story. Face the pain. What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.

if you sometimes want to scream with joy because you caught a glimpse of the true wild passion of life

“The true wild passion of life” does not come to you like the lottery. It is not a win or lose. It is not the same for all. Life is not a private party with windows where you to look in but but you cannot open the door. Life is a participation sport - internal and eternal.

If you were to take a motor trip around Europe and never look outside the car, the value of the trip would be lost to you. If you were to take in all that came to view, but did not tend to the car, your trip would be cut short when the car failed. Life is a blend of internal and external. You may find the wild passion when your internal and external become as one.

but it disappears again, leaving you all empty –

The ebb and flow is the tide in all life cycles. Any elation is likely to be followed by a feeling of loss, often referred to as emptiness. You could opt for avoiding elation. You could paint your world with shades of gray, never daring to enjoy red or blue, certainly not crimson or aquamarine.

Or you might also choose to embrace "empty." Empty is the recognition that something you valued has changed. It also means you are alive to experience more passions - and more empties. There can be several of each going on at the same time, sharing space but not canceling each other out. That is why people can laugh at funerals. The sadness is not displaced by the laughter. But it can help to remember other passions while we are focused in the empty. The inability to feel empty is death.

When you reach the heights of a wild passion, enjoy it to the fullest. Pay not a moment's homage to the emptiness which may follow. When you look down, you have already stated to fall.

what do you do?

Be.

Focus when you can on discovering who you are. Embrace the pleasures and the pains of the body, but do not be the body. You have a body, but you are so much more. Trust your inner self. Do what feels right for you. You are not responsible for how others react to you, but you are responsible for how you treat yourself.

Your body is in your keeping. You can loan it for another’s pleasure, just as you can borrow another’s for your own. But no one, even in marriage is entitled to another. Even in slavery, a person has choices.

Peace is a choice. Peace is neither an action nor an in-action. It is a feeling you will know from time to time – glimpse if you will. Your human condition will lure you away. But you can choose it again… and again! Peace can be exhilarating or exhausting. Peace can be found in choices of commission or omission. But it is always in the choices.

Do not want peace. Be peace. Do not want love. Be love. Life is not a pass-fail test. There is no finish line, no final buzzer. There are no winners or losers. Life is an opportunity to discover who you are – or not.

You ask many questions. I am honored to provide the answers that work for me. However, you may find more insight from the questions you choose to ask than from the answers others offer. When you pan for gold, most is worthless rock. Keep asking questions, but also answer questions. I have clarified me answering you.

Be.

posted by Sparky 2:25 PM

Friday, September 10, 2004

Everybody's born. Everybody dies. The middle part is choices.

Everybody knows, "everybody dies." Then we go about our lives as though we were invincible. "Everybody" does not mean "everybody else." During my checkered career, I have had the opportunity to participate in starting two Hospice programs. When working with dying people, it is reasonable to project that physical pain would be the primary concern. It is important, but physical pain is the easy part. Drugs and alternative therapies are marvelous. But there is no drug for regret.

One of those far eastern religions addresses the concept that everything is already broken. Then, when we experience that breaking, we can better accept and move on. We say, "No use crying over spilled milk," but the western concept of accumulation is so interlaced with the pain of unprepared loss. Even those under the western influence who grasp the concept of stuff breaking, still have difficulty with the concept of people breaking. We are so taught that a person is defined by his body.

Once the concept of our own mortality becomes real, we can make better choices. That doesn't mean we do.

"OK, Spark. Where are you going with this?"

In my years with hospice, I learned a lot from those with short life expectancies about what is important -looking backward. The sins of commission tend to be forgivable, but we carry with us our sins of omission. It is in all the things we didn't do that we find our greatest sadness. Further, that list of things rarely includes stuff or money - its all about relationships.

'II still don't get it."

Today, we Floridians are once again in "hurricane preparation mode." Even as we go through the motions of acting calm and organized, we are worried about our stuff, even though "it is already broken." In the process we may get surly, even rude - and certainly impatient with others, even those we love most, over virtually insignificant things. Our wispy veil of calm is easily displaced - and replaced by activity, not necessarily rooted in reason.

We have choices. We can be nice to each other. We can care about and for each other. We can focus and calmly move through this, or calmly not. We can scurry around in a flash of activity, or we can do important things well and the less important possibly not at all.

Common reference talks of hurricane Ivan as "Ivan the Terrible." But he is also "Ivan the teacher." And the lesson of Ivan is not in what he does, but in how we act. Every hour has the potential to be my finest hour... and yours.

Everybody's born. Everybody dies. Everything is already broken.

Minimize sins of omission. Make care-full choices.

posted by Sparky 1:14 PM

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Hurricanes, Elections and other Florida Disasters

So what’s new in Hurricanes? As best we know, they have been a part of the weather as long as we have been having weather. But there is something new: Information Technology. Computer models tell us, a week in advance sometimes, where these giant storms will go, how fast they will move, how fast the winds will be in relation to any particular eye at any particular moment. Of course they are wrong 99% of the time, give or take. Several different experts with several different computer simulators report their projected courses, then constantly adjust those projections based on updated data, so they all are 100% accurate in retrospect.

Ah, but give those statistics to “THE MEDIA” and we have sufficient reason for 24 hour hype, and coincidentally, 24 hour advertising. Local stations compete for the best coverage – which means the most disastrous video. Between repeating the published warnings to stay indoors, they concentrate on storm pictures sent in by staff and viewers alike who are out in the storms creating their own 15 minutes of fame.

They tell you when the police are being called in from their beats for personal safety. Hmmm. I wonder who needs that information? Could it be – the proverbial looters? And what is a looter: a common thief at an uncommon time.

But none of this is the tragedy. The tragedy is in believing the reports. Hurricane Charley was less than 50 miles from Charlotte Harbor – but the models had him going north. Over a million people moved to avoid his wrath. Most moved right into the places he chose to visit. He went northeast, catching unprepared locals and visitors alike, lulled to complacent sleep by confident storm experts and all their charts.

Following Charley three weeks later, sister Frances stayed quite close to the computer models, except for two tiny details – she was fat and she sat down, refusing to move on. Some of her least impacted areas lie within the computer-documented path of her eye, while communities hundreds of miles from her course experienced extensive damage.

Meanwhile television stations were competing for Emmies or whatever they compete for, bringing us “uninterrupted coverage.” Viewed from a distance, like say, Denver, the relentless hype could have been a bit comical. However, close up, it was more like yelling fire in a theatre. Locals, preparing as best they could for the ballyhooed smite of nature, were constantly exposed to extrapolated horrors. One sign blowing down quickly became the centerpiece for a doomsday prognosis – and if it was of sufficient viewing quality – wouldl play over and over… and over. Anyone remember the Watts Riots where the same police car burned for days and the same thugs broke the same windows? Those reporters took up meteorology.

Back to the looters - One extremely lucky cameraman caught one unlucky looter in the act. I know because I saw that footage at least 10 times on at least three different stations. Were the truth known, my guess is that crime statistics in any of the communities impacted were inversely proportional to the severity of the weather. Central Florida likely hasn’t had a day of less crime in decades. Only the least professional of our wayward brethren braved the storms to knock over their local 7 Eleven.

But there is crime – and it is on television – and it is heralded in Robin Hood-esque fashion. The great rescuers of the downtrodden enter: the Red Cross and FEMA. The Red Cross is everywhere in the media asking for our support. The cynic in me arrises when their fine print promises 10% of donations earmarked for a particular disaster will be used for that disaster. Did they learn nothing from 9-11?

But the Red Cross is amateur night compared to our federal friends, FEMA, under the direction of, of course, G. W. Now the advance hype will tell you that FEMA is going to kiss it and make it all better. Nowhere in their promising do they tell you they are here with government loans, and then only for the uninsured or severely underinsured. But under pressure, FEMA will share their plan to provide some grants to those who don’t qualify for loans and who have no insurance. Whew, I feel better.

Now lets be FEMA for a moment – if I qualify you for the loan, you owe me dearly and nearly forever. If I refuse to loan you money, I have to give it to you. Hmmm. There likely is somewhere here in Florida, a few who cannot qualify for a FEMA loan. Fortunately for FEMA, those people are too proud – or too dumb to ask for the free money.

Meanwhile, the under publicized Salvation Army is out quietly helping day and night, as they always do, giving away everything they have. Having worked for the Salvation Army – twice – I can tell you they are human, but squandering resources is not one of their weaknesses. If you send $1 for hurricane relief, $1 will go for hurricane relief. Not one penny will flow up the organization chart. In fact, local units everywhere will join with regional and national components to send manpower and other resources right out of their operating budgets to make the relief program work.

Meanwhile, G. W. is parading around like Robin Hood, “helping” millions of Floridians create more debt, knowing they won’t feel the sting until after the election! Now that is a plan even the campaign strategists could not have dreamed up. The heartland of central Florida, where G.W. would have lost in 2000 were his brother not in control of the election process, is temporarily grateful for the help that will bury them. Even those capable of repaying and balancing other commitments will be saddled with higher interest on credit cards and everything else as their credit score plummets.

Can Kerry carry Florida? For the first time since Florida hung Chad, I see the possibility that G. W. can win here in November. That, my friends, is the real Florida disaster.

While the occasional looter grabs a few bucks - and runs, G.W. steals the future from millions – and runs!

posted by Sparky 7:57 PM

Monday, August 23, 2004

Rooney Tunes

Today I received an email, which follows. My first reaction was the elicited response shared by the author of the email. “Right on!” Andy Rooney is a world-class commentator. His editorials are sharp, sometimes caustic, and well thought through. His string of sound bite statements have such a compelling momentum. Hitler was good at that.

Once given distance from the impact of his style and clarity, I find myself at odds with this cartoon-ish approach to complex issues. Enjoy the following. I’ll be back!


Right on, Andy Rooney! Andy Rooney said on 60 minutes a few weeks back: (for those of you that don't know Andy Rooney, he is an 82 year old US TV commentator)

I don't think being a minority makes you a victim of anything except numbers. The only things I can think of that are truly discriminatory are things like the United Negro College Fund, Jet Magazine, Black Entertainment Television, and Miss Black America. Try to have things like the United Caucasian College Fund, Cloud Magazine, White Entertainment Television, or Miss White America; and see what happens. Jesse Jackson will be knocking down your door. Guns do not make you a killer. I think killing makes you a killer. You can kill someone with a baseball bat or a car, but no one is trying to ban you from driving to the ball game.I believe they are called the Boy Scouts for a reason, that is why there are no girls allowed. Girls belong in the Girl Scouts! ARE YOU LISTENING MARTHA BURKE?I think that if you feel homosexuality is wrong, it is not a phobia, it is an opinion.I have the right "NOT" to be tolerant of others because they are different, weird, or tick me off.When 70% of the people who get arrested are black, in cities where 70% of the population is black, that is not racial profiling, it is the Law of Probability.I believe that if you are selling me a milk shake, a pack of cigarettes, a newspaper or a hotel room, you must do it in English! As a matter of fact, if you want to be an American citizen, you should have to speak English!My father and grandfather didn't die in vain so you can leave the countries you were born in to come over and disrespect ours. I think the police should have every right to shoot your sorry self if you threaten them after they tell you to stop. If you can't understand the word "freeze" or "stop" in English, see the above lines.I don't think just because you were not born in this country, you are qualified for any special loan programs, government sponsored bank loans or tax breaks, etc., so you can open a hotel, coffee shop, trinket store, or any other business.We did not go to the aid of certain foreign countries and risk our lives in wars to defend their freedoms, so that decades later they could come over here and tell us our constitution is a living document; and open to their interpretations.I don't hate the rich. I don't pity the poor I know pro wrestling is fake, but so are movies and television. That doesn't stop you from watching them.I think Bill Gates has every right to keep every penny he made and continue to make more. If it ticks you off, go and invent the next operating system that's better, and put your name on the building. Ask your buddy that invented the Internet to help you. (Al)It doesn't take a whole village to raise a child right, but it does take a parent to stand up to the kid; and smack their little behinds when necessary, and say "NO!"I think tattoos and piercing are fine if you want them, but please don't pretend they are a political statement. And, please, stay home until that new lip ring heals. I don't want to look at your ugly infected mouth as you serve me French fries!I am sick of "Political Correctness." I know a lot of black people, and not a single one of them was born in Africa; so how can they be "African-Americans"? Besides, Africa is a continent. I don't go around saying I am a European-American because my great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather was from Europe. I am proud to be from America and nowhere else.And if you don't like my point of view, tough. DON'T PASS IT ON!!



Fascinating! Excellent craftsmanship!

Unfortunately, Andy, you have taken the simplistic road. Of course there should be no need for a United Negro College Fund, or a Miss Black America contest. Perhaps you live in a community where all children have the same opportunities, but the history of our country speaks otherwise. There is no balance in your protest.

No other immigrant group had the pleasure of slavery to mutilate its cultural roots. The organizations you redicule may have fallen short of their noble purposes, but were they not created to provide the bootstraps Rooney-esque thinkers believe we can all pull ourselves up by? Come on, Andy. Jet magazine grew out of a vacuum. Black success stories remained silent and black society was never in danger of making the local papers – virtually anywhere, not just in the common focal point, the Deep South [which is another myth, but I digress.]

I want to come back, but let’s jump ahead. Your comment on 70% arrested are black in a 70% black community totally avoids the arrest problem. Here in Florida for example, over half of the prison inmates are of the black persuasion, over double the ratio you cite. And the sad thing is that the Andys of this country are contributing to the problem. The Law of Probability says that you do not nor would you live in an area where you were a minority. You just stand back and point. there are real problems and real reasons why arrest patterns are as they are.

Guns! Guns make little people feel big. Guns change the balance of power. Guns allow the minority to illicit fear in the majority. Guns permit cowards to become killers. Guns make our streets unsafe. Guns turn concerned community citizens into hermits. Guns destroy community, not because they are “bad” inventions, but because you, Andy, and your friends in thought are unwilling to control whose hands hold these guns.

Boy Scouts. I was a Boy Scout. I worked for the Boy Scouts. Andy, the Boy Scouts of the 1950’s are a vestige of your memory. Sociaty has changed. Scouting has changed. It has urbanized and refocused. The programs for older scouts are increasingly career oriented. Most scouts, boy or girl, have never spent one night in a tent in the woods, built a campfire or dug a latrine. Get over it. Most of what scouts do today can be done just fine in mixed company.

But there is a bigger problem, Andy. Your generation, and then mine, sat by and watched the collapse of the school experience as a developer of socialization skills. “Values” education has been stripped from the hands of our educators, much like a fumbled football, except that no one is jumping on the loose ball. Scouting still teaches values, but with lessons that could be so much more beneficial if they were learned in mixed company by more kids – both of which would happen if you let them all in. Our boys grow up knowing exactly how to go hunting or fishing with the guys, but increasingly settle their inter-gender differences with violence. Do you suppose structured hetero-activity during a formative time with quality adult leadership who have the potential to command appropriate behavior could lead to better inter-gender relationships?

There is so much more, but let’s wrap this up with English. Of course, all of us English speaking people favor one language. It even makes sense, BUT it takes preferential treatment to offer quality programs – and preferential programs are something you stand strongly against. We expect kids from wherever to enter our schools, compete successfully on standardized tests, learn all the lessons AND become proficient in English while the other two-thirds of their day is conducted in another language. Yes, we would love to have “one language, under God.” It is so simple to wish it so. It is so difficult to make it so.
A playing field looks so much more level when you are the one with the advantage. Mr. Rooney, your cartoon approach to major problems is entertaining. Your points of view are simple and succinct – and without realistic potential. Thanks to your Rooney Tunes for this entertaining respite from reality.

posted by Sparky 2:17 PM

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Gimmie that ole time religion!

Approximately 380,000 residents of Pinellas County, Florida (St Petersburg, Clearwater) choked the three evacuation routes Thursday and Friday in preparation for Hurricane Charley. The communities up and down the barrier island beaches went dark as Progress Energy shut down some of it's shoreline generating capacity in anticipation of a storm surge, projected between 5 and 15 feet.

Charley stayed true to form, powering through the Caribbean, then turning Northward on cue, cutting across Cuba and staying within feet of his computer-projected path, drawing a direct bead on Tampa Bay. Local television programming gave way to 24 hour weather as remaining residents gathered around televisions... when they weren't out scavenging water, batteries, plywood and non-perishable items. Tampa Bay had not taken a direct hit since the 30's, but there could be no doubt that it was time.

Charley had other plans. Crossing Cuba as Category 2 Hurricane, he jumped immediately to a Category 3 and continued on his anticipated encounter with the 2.4 million Tampa Bay area residents and his rendezvous with the Tampa Bay Bucs first pre-season game, slowing only slightly, to synchronize his pace with opening kick-off Friday night. Pushing due North, Charley following the course projection line on the weather map, much like the long awaited Florida Bullet Train on a shiny new rail.

Then, more like an open-field runner, he gave a little stutter step and bolted to the Northeast, cutting a new pass through North Captiva Island and breaking into the clear of Charlotte Harbor with a burst that earned him a Category 4 strength rating. Choosing not to take on the prepared Tampa Bay area, he instead pounded the unsuspecting retirement cities of Punta Gorda and Port Charlotte, raged on through Arcadia, Lake Wales and a hundred sleepy towns most have never heard of, ran over Orlando and kicked sand in the face of Daytona Beach as he exited triumphantly into the Atlantic, still a Category 1 Hurricane despite crossing hundreds of land miles. Ironically, a large percentage of the 380,000 evacuees were hunkered down in motels directly along Charley's unsuspected path.

Charley left behind a field of injured players. Over a million people lost electric service, some of whom will be yet another week in the dark. So far, 17 deaths are on his scoreboard, still with areas yet to be reached due to downed trees. Hard hit Polk County (Lakeland, Winter Haven, Bartow) was the largest producer of oranges, but probably not this year, as a large quantity if un-ripened fruit lays strewn across the countryside, in some places still attached to the trees that were no match for his sustained winds and tornadoes. Insurance companies, FIMA and individual resources will share his rumored $11 billion signing bonus.

The Central Florida Chamber of Commerce has been busy with damage repair of its own, fighting feverishly to play down the destruction at the Orlando Airport and surrounding region, in an attempt to salvage what is left of a normally great international tourist month. A community normally clamoring for media attention is suddenly reclusive.

Most of those evacuated have limped back into paradise, a totally unscathed Pinellas County, where there is almost business as usual... almost because the people have changed. Seeing the devastation 80 miles South has certainly brought religion to those previously storm agnostic. Residents are everywhere building little alters to the storm gods in the form of trucks filled with sacrificial water and other post-storm supplies, bound for our less fortunate neighbors an hour and a half down I-75. Supplies are sent on their way with prayers, silently hoping these offerings will somehow protect us from our neighbors' fates.

posted by Sparky 10:13 AM

Friday, August 06, 2004

Election 2004

I recently watched a rerun of a West Wing episode. I admit I am only recently acquainted with West Wing, thanks to the marvel of recording technology. Anyway, you may have seen it. It is the episode of the mid-term election. With all the efforts of the White House and millions of dollars, the net result in the congressional seats up of challenge was no change. In this episode, Toby is possessed with hate groups, and frustrated by the White House's inability to do something about them.

As the staff gather late at night to share a beer, the episode ends with a toast by Toby, "God Bless America." At the height of their frustration, these characters were able to see that we still have much to appreciate.

Perhaps when all the name-calling and the ballot recounting is behind us, we will once again be able to focus on what is good. Perhaps. In the interim, we are in for what is building up to be the nastiest Presidential campaign ever.

Just this morning, John McCain is on the front page of our paper asking the Bush leadership (his own group) to condemn an add about to run in some states, basically calling John Kerry a fraud and his military record a contrived sham. The campaign leadership declined to do so. Why?

That's a big question. Why? Could it be because they cannot beat him on the issues? Could it be because they believe it is true? Sadly, no. It is because it works.

"You gotta be kidding me! You are just crying because your guy is under attack. They would not run an ad like that if there were no truth to it. I didn't see your article when Michael Moore's movie came out. Could it be the shoe was on the other foot?"

Let me clarify. I am a registered Democrat. I see a need for basic health care for all, for quality public education and for special programs to help those who are unable to take care of themselves due to physical and/or mental difficulties. But I am a 60s Democrat. John Kerry is far from ideal in my book.

John and George are virtually the same in my mind, and I contend, in the minds of many, perhaps even the majority of eligible voters. I have some convergence with both, more so than they do each other. But I support John Kerry for one over-riding reason: we have and will maintain a Republican Congress. With a Republican Congress, America needs a Democrat White House for balance. Just as we see on West Wing, the balance is where we are truly represented. It is where positions are moderated.

"You have gone far a field this time, buddy. Show me how you are going to put this all together."

American politics, an animal like no other, has evolved (mutated if you will) into 30 second attacks. The issues, as important as they are, don't sell, won't sell, can't sell. There are too many issues, any one of which is too complex to present in a television commercial. And those commercials are not out there preaching to the choir. Those already committed one way or the other based on issues are not going to be swayed. It is the undecided that determine elections, and yes, they really exist.

But before you start thinking this is a small group, think again. True, there are a few who plan to vote but haven't decided who to vote for. But there is a huge group, probably a majority of registered voters, who on August 6th, 2004, are not internally committed to vote in November. Some of those already have a bias toward one candidate or the other, but are not sufficiently interested or do not feel significant and may not vote. Then there is another group who do not feel good about either guy and don't care. And then there is yet another group who, for whatever reason, drift up to election day not giving much thought at all to the whole process, some of whom still will vote because a friend showed up at work with an "I voted" sticker, because a buddy made a crack at the bar last night, or for some other equally random reason.

It is those undecideds who will determine the outcome of this election - with their votes or with their absence at the voting booth. It is these people the pollsters and advisors tell us will be swayed by a personal attack. They won't be evaluating which candidate has the better plan for Medicare drug coverage. They do not understand the impact of a tax cut on the economy. They cannot be expected to sort out which one will be better for them personally or for the country. The candidate's image will get him elected - or not. The people who will choose the next President are under-educated on the issues and under-informed on the actual duties and powers of the Presidency - as are we all.

But their votes count one time... just like yours... just like mine. And out of this chaotic voting system arises the best place there has ever been to raise your children and to follow your dreams. As flawed as it is, the United States is, in 2004, truly the land of opportunity. As great as it is for those who succeed, it is also a great place to fail ? or to end up in the middle. With all of its problems, it is the best, and it has the potential to get even better.

On this one, I'm with Toby. "God Bless America!"

posted by Sparky 4:12 PM

Friday, December 05, 2003

Interlude

I interrupt my normal political programming for an important message:

Grandkids!

I could stop right there - but I won't!

Last night I could not have been more proud. I invited Maritza (14) to sell raffle tickets at Tampa BayWatch's 10th Anniversary Party. She was the party! In the process of selling a ton of tickets, she endeared herself to everyone. As she captured their attention with her engaging smile, she gracefully slid into their hearts and their wallets, extracting an endless parade of smiles and twenties.

Some regret the maturing of their children... and especially their grandchildren - because of what they perceive it says about them. I am proud that my kids are more successful than I, and even more delighted to see the next generation emerging for their day at the fair.

It would be a bold-faced lie to say that I am ready to roll over. I am however, content in the knowledge that, watching the blossoming of my grandchildren, I have seen the future - and it is good!
posted by Sparky 4:57 PM

Wednesday, August 13, 2003

People I cannot stand, and why I stand behind them

What to Hillary Clinton and Kobe Bryant have in common? Hmmmm. Well, for one thing, my support.

I don’t like Hillary Clinton. I find her a political opportunist from a long way back, reaching a peak as a carpetbagger Senator representing my old home state, New York. She has never appeared to me to be sincere, gracious,, or even friendly. She certainly isn’t on my list of would be friends. But…America needs, and Hillary can deliver… a moderate voice in the White House. At this point, she is the only electable moderate voice on the horizon – unless Arnold decides to run for President. Is she my first choice? Not by a country mile, but my first choices don’t command the vote.

In my old age I have chosen to allow a touch of pragmatism to seep in – and with it came preferring to elect a mediocre moderate President than a contemptuous conservative one. Polarization is fine for ice caps, but it is tearing at the fiber of our union. I am truly sorry that Hillary is the only alternative on the horizon, but I support her candidacy as currently the only viable alternative.

“So what,” you may ask, “does Hillary’s insurgency for President have to do with Kobe’s insurgency for personal gratification?”

Let’s be clear. Kobe Bryant is a superstar on the basketball court. Off the court, he displays the arrogance often found among the nouveaux riche. He splashes his way around, showing little concern for others. He chose to marry and he chooses not to honor that contract. He is a horrid role model, which doesn’t seem to faze him in the least. In short, I am not inviting him over any time soon.

However, just because he is a jerk does not mean he should fall victim to a legal battle of such circumstances. His reputation for being a jerk is not unknown. The young lady in question knew who he was, knew it was late at night and knew she was venturing into a potentially sexual situation - willingly. Any post-pubescent boy or girl could tell you what the possibilities were once that door was closed.

Come on! She went to his room prepared for a sexual encounter. It may or may not have coincided with whatever fantasy she took with her. The same could be said for him. But the reason there is a legal case today is because of who was behind that door - not because of what went on there.

Justice cannot be served. From the privacy of a bedroom both chose to share come two conflicting stories – two stories that would never have been even heard had it not been for his visibility – and wealth. The scales of justice were not used in weighing the relative merits of pursuing this case.

Was the girl raped? Possibly. Was she any match for this huge athlete in his prime? Not a chance. If she said “no,” is he obligated to stop? Unquestionably. But she is obligated to say “no” before – not after – and certainly not days after.

Baring a recording or an ear witness,the situation remains his word against hers. His word deserves no special weight – but neither does hers. Our freedom is protected by a legal system designed to place the burden of proof on the accuser. This case thus far does not carry that burden.

So, I support Kobe and Hillary, because our way of life is best preserved through their prevailing in their separate battles. Will they be better people if they win? I fear not – but we will.

posted by Sparky 5:00 PM

Friday, February 21, 2003

On the Map

What do you have to do to get recognition for your community? Host a Super Bowl? Been there! Twice! Win a Super Bowl? Been there too. Bring in cruise ships? Rebuild downtown nightlife? Buy millions in travel advertising? Done all those. Still, most Americans would have great difficulty identifying Tampa Bay on their Rand-McNally.

Finally, we have made the big time! Thanks to the actions of an esteemed University of South Florida professor, all eyes are on Tampa Bay. Seems said professor, Sami Al-Arian, has been singled out by Homeland Security as THE head of terrorist activity in America. OK, they used other words – Palestinian Islamic Jihad, but that’s how it comes across on the national news and in most of the country’s newspapers.

Now that does not mean they get it right. No, ambitious reporters, short of research staff apparently, still thing The University of South Florida is in South Florida. Oh well. They can’t all get it right. But most have figured out that our own USF has been and still is the focal point of domestic Islamic terrorist activity.

Sami has done what the PR gurus and millions a year have been unable to do. Thanks to him, everyone, well with the possible exception of those who watch the Osbornes on television, knows where we are. Tampa Bay has made the big time!

Perhaps we need another parade! That’s it! Drag out the recently refurbished Gasparilla floats. Bring out the high school bands. We finally have an international celebrity in our midst. Well, in our midst may be a stretch, as he is currently the houseguest of Uncle Sam, but no matter. The national media have focused here. Over the next several weeks, Tampa Bay will be receiving more attention than years of advertising and activity could muster. What to take any bets that Presidential hopeful, Senator Bob Graham is winging his way Tampa in hopes of being tied to the bust in the minds of American voters? If not, he needs a new campaign manager!

Wait a bombthreat minute! This is no cause for celebration. This is awful. You are a little twisted on this one!

Oh, really? For centuries, we Americans have marked our geography this way. Boston – Tea Party. Chicago – Al Capone. Los Angeles – Watts Riots or Rodney King. New York – Twin Towers collapse. Tampa – Islamic Terrorists. Gettysburg – bloody battlefield. Dallas – Kennedy shot. Kansas City – where is Kansas City? Or Phoenix, Portland, Boise, Cleveland, Pittsburgh,
Raleigh, Green Bay? Even Atlanta is a mystery to the majority.

Al-Arian's value as a map marker is enhanced even more by his ongoing battle with USF. As a tenured professor, he has lived over two years on paid leave while the administration fights for the right to fire him, stongly opposed at every turn by the faculty union leadership. This makes great spin-off news when the terrorist thing is quiet. Meanwhile, his $67,500 salary continues to flow, potentially to fund more suicide bombers. Thank you, USF. This is a small price to pay for the column inches it will generate.

Even our weather got a media boost. References to Sami's arrest on a nearly 80 degree cloudless day cemented the image of Tampa Bay in the minds of frostbit northerners digging out of the season's heaviest snowfall. No matter that he got arrected in the pre-dawn hours.

History book authors take note. We prefer to be called Tampa Bay – home of famed terrorist Sami Al-Arian, and, by the way, a pretty decent tourist destination.

posted by Sparky 10:56 AM

Friday, January 31, 2003

Hemmingway, Mailer & Me

Currently, I am reading “To Have and Have Not,” one of what I assume to be Hemmingway’s lesser works, as it is rarely mentioned when his name come up. Ernie has a confident grace in his simplistic chronological presentation of a hapless charter boat captain. I can picture him sitting at Sloppy Joe’s telling this story, speaking to whomever happened to listen. In his tone – a very subtle attitude: ” I am going to tell this story because I want to. I’ ll include whatever strikes my fancy, as I am telling it first of all for my own amusement. If you care to listen, fine. If not, it makes no difference to me.” He is comfortable with his talent and just kinda lays it out there for us to appreciate – or not.

Norman Mailer is a Hemmingway-esque icon with one slight difference. He lives. Today, on his eightieth birthday, he tells the tale of his writing career in a style not dissimilar to Hemmingway at Sloppu Joe's. In a recent interview he offered, “The only fun in working images is that, as you elaborate on them, they always turn out either better or worse than you had hoped. The alternative is to say the same thing you’ve been saying over and over.” Clearly, he writes for an audience of one... and others if they care to read. No matter.

OK, I can see the connection between Mailer and Hemmingway, but where do you fit in?

I, like Mailer and Hemmingway, write primarily to please me. Oh, to be sure, I would be delighted to have my work on the best seller lists, but the motivator remains personal enjoyment. If you care to hear my stories, fine. I am sometimes disalppointed, but occasionally fascinated by the stories as they unfold. It is the potential of an occasional tear, or a rush of adrenaline, or a warm fuzzy that arises as I write that pushes me back to the keyboard again and again.

A published friend of mine writes her books in their entirety before sharing them with a publisher or , as of late, agent. Then she submits an outline. “Too may could be wonderful books go to press mediocre because they are written under pressure.”

If you were in a position to retire, would you write full time?

No. I would, set sail aboard “Second Wind” for ports immaterial. But you can be sure I would have a laptop at the helm, and dead air would be a welcome visitor.


posted by Sparky 1:24 PM

Tuesday, January 21, 2003

Movin' On!

Old Dad has done it again. Moved that is. We have gone and bought what will some day be a 1972 36' Guflstar motorsailor. That is to say, we bought a TRASHED Gulfstar.

How trashed?

Remember when you were a kid and you set out to build a backyard fort? This dream structure turned out to be a collection of nails surrounded by whatever could be scrounged in the neighborhood. Well, that is a reasonable comparable to the structure a previous owner used to cover the center cockpit.

In keeping with the exterior decor, The salon reveals an apartment size gas range flanked by a chest freezer. In order to free up space for these enhancements, two thirds of the forward head was cut away - two-thirds mind you. That left the sink amd pieces of the bulkhead with the bathroom white panels. The dining booth is sandwiched between the bulkhead to the engineroom and the mini-closed - almost big enough in any direction to accommodate a hanger and tall enough for shorts.

The aft birth yells "work in progress." the half built nav. station replaces the the half dismantled guest quarters. The forward V-berth is in pretty good shape, with an excellent view of the anchor locker, as the doors to the locker need attention.

In fact, the overall look is that of This Old House - the "before" pictures.

So why did you buy what could kindly be called a "project boat?"

Because it was there? Actually, this sweetheart of a boat, which we have affectionately named, "Second Wind," has all the right features: Big inside, floats (heavy fiberglass), restorable low hours engine, CHEAP. In sailable, saleable condition, this year and model goes in the mid-thirty thousand range. Having invested slightly over 10% of her future value, we can make major revisions and still be rightside up when it is time to sell. Those of you who know Nancy, know she would have wanted to redo everything anyway. With "Second Wind," its not an option!

There isn't much of the interior for which the word "restore" generates anything but chuckles. We will be designing and building an interior. However, the topside (once the shack is gone) needs few repairs other that paint and teakwork. The main is missing, but the mast and roller boom are in good shape, as is the roller furling jib. She'll need a nose job, as someone has liberated her bow sprit, and eventually the hatches will want replacing. OK, the cockpit wiring is screwed up and she needs cushions, bimini, dodger and more to make her presentable, but that's the fun part! And to think, when the guys got me a comercial sewing machine for Christmas, they thought it was to fix up their boats!

By the way, we also moved to a condo next to the marina. I figure I will save literally weeks in travel time over the next few months.

If you have an urge to go sailing, I suggest you volunteer to crew for Russ aboard "Shaman" or Bob on "Hale Kai." "Second Wind" will be indisposed during her make-over. But next year, there will be some serious cruising going on!


posted by Sparky 1:58 PM

Wednesday, October 30, 2002

Political Unrest

Do you remember your mother teaching you, "If you can't say something nice about somebody, don't say anything?" Is it just me, or are you too frazzled by the barrage of political announcements that make out certain candidates to be less than human? Many of these are so negative the the candidate running the commercial doesn't even identify himself.

"Oh, no. Those are not run by the candidate. They are run by independent community organizations."

Yeah, right.

Now I know the reason these ads are run is because they work. It may be the only way to let the voting polulation know what the opponent is for or against, who funds her campaign, and how many constituents he has raped and pillaged. Problem is, many of these ads have distorted the truth beyond any posible recognition.

When your candidate is lambasted, you sit in your living room crying foul, but are you crying foul when your favorite son is taking cheap shots at the challenger? Each year the claims get more outrageous. It seems like the person who can lie loudest and best, wins.

This year, Florida's incumbant governor, Jeb Bush started with a substantial lead. However, Bill McBride has made a close race out of it. Because it appears so close, Jeb's brother is stumping this weekend here in Tampa Bay. He has been here before, as has his wife, his mother and his father. Fine. No problem. That's using positive advantages. But yesterday I saw a 30 second news clip on Bay News 9 (cable news) that ran every hour all evening, so I got a chance to look at what he was saying. In the thirty seconds, of "news" he took four shots at McBride. One of those shots was saying McBride was spending just as much as he was on this campaign. FOUL! Bush has the largest election till in state history, in addition to which he has Air Force One and occupant helping out little brother while he happens to be in town. This is a classic matchup with big money interests vs. the people - and the edge goes with the money.

"Breath easy old man. In a few days it will be over."

That's where you are wrong. The people have been so bombarded with garbage about all the candidates, the confidence in our leadership - in Tallahassee and in Washington - is weakened, if not totally broken. When you see outbursts of political unrest, it would be folly to believe these are isolated situations. A large portion of the population distrust the word of their representatives. That segment is getting larger and more frustrated.

There is a revolution brewing which cuts across party lines. I believe, at least in Florida, there is room for an honest politician to run and win on a "positive principles" platform. There are enough of us so sick of the slimy characters we have to choose from that we would elect a person of character, regardless of party affiliation.

Unfortunately, this political unrest carries over to government employees. Those who face the front line lack of respect are the police and firefighters. Look for more conflicts to break out - but the roots of those conflicts grow deep, fertilized very well this time of year.

We are headed into winter, the dormant period - but with the thaw of Spring there will come internal strife. I wish it otherwise, but I believe increased outlash is coming - against our elected officials, their laws and their representatives within easy reach.


posted by Sparky 3:43 PM

Tuesday, October 08, 2002

Health vs. Hardware

A majority of Americans say that the nation's economy is in its worst shape in nearly a decade and that President Bush and Congressional leaders are spending too much time talking about Iraq while neglecting problems at home, according to the latest New York Times/CBS News poll.

The poll found signs of economic distress that cut across party and geographic lines. Nearly half of all Americans are worried that they or someone in their household will be out of a job within a year. NYTIMES 10/07/02


Who cares about the economy? The obvious answer is “everybody.” As per usual, the obvious answer is also wrong. As much as political and media leaders would like us to believe otherwise, most of us are very provincial. If I am getting paid and my friends are not out of work, life is pretty good. The stock market can do whatever. It is of little consequence to the majority who have no investments in the market.

“Well then old man, if it isn’t the economy, what is it that underlies the general feeling of non-prosperity?”

Wonderful question! The answer is primary healthcare. The biggest downside risk to any non-megabucks family is major illness. It is the keenly honed double-edged blade that cuts into the family assets and the family income with one clean swipe. Today, fewer workers have healthcare coverage than at any time since the post-WWII boom. Many of those who have coverage will be quick to tell you that their co-pay is higher and their coverage is lower than in years past.

Unemployment, once the biggest economic downside risk, moved down on the list to make room for health crisis as the biggest financial worry Americans face today. One family member’s trip to the hospital can wipe out all the family gains for the year, sometimes many years.

“Why then, do we not see more politicians waving the healthcare banner?”

President Bill Clinton championed a healthcare safety net. President Clinton narrowly avoided impeachment. Since his public whipping, politicians avoid the healthcare crisis if they seriously seek election. The reason is simple. The problem is too enormous to address without seriously restructuring the national economic system. The tax structure would have to change.
I have already talked about the brilliant maneuvering in Congress, which allowed both sides of the isle to vote for Medicare prescription coverage without it passing. The one area where both parties agree is that the true cost of healthcare is staggering.

“Well, if the government doesn’t pay and private insurance doesn’t pay, and the individual cannot afford to pay, who does?”

Some healthcare crises go unanswered. People die. Others are passed on to the next generation or absorbed by all of us. The next generation pays with their non-forthcoming inheritance. The “family farm” is traded for healthcare. What is not covered is passed along to the bankruptcy courts or absolved at death. Either way, that bad debt is booked as a business expense and converted into higher prices for those still paying.

“Let’s go back to the premise that Americans are concerned about the economy. What about that?”

Americans are concerned about their ability to provide for themselves and their families. Even though there is no finite supply of resources, the ability of the individual to access those resources and to protect themselves from catastrophic loss of these resources is tougher today than for at least two previous generations. If that is what you call the economy, fine. But the government and the media seem to believe the economy reflects the finances of industry and the stock market. Both of those can be healthy while the people lose their family farms.

Before you ask, the answer is reform. Limit the tort system to manage physician liability settlements. Then manage rates through a regionally adjusted Medicare schedule, which will apply to all patients. Since 70% of health care dollars flow through seniors, this is realistic. Offer tax advantages to employers who provide healthcare benefits, Reduce the risk to insurance companies through government supervised reinsurance pools.

Once the healthcare package is on the mend, increase military spending. We are going to spend the money either intimidating advocaries or fighting brush wars. I prefer intimidation. It is hard to carry a big stick when you don’t have one. Portray us with a big brother’s conviction in the world market. Give the President a big enough saber to rattle that worldwide terrorism will have serious consequences. Then call bluffs.

“So… what is the price tag for all this spending?”

Virtually nothing. A revitalized economy will produce the tax dollars necessary to pay for most of these changes. Trim a few social programs and – bingo – a balanced budget. Increase deductibility of philanthropy and require better documentation. Philanthropy will increase more than enough to cover reduced federal programs.

“If this is so simple, why don’t we already have it?”

Territorialism. Liberals want to provide healthcare with decreased military spending. Conservatives want to buy military might with healthcare dollars. The country needs both. When we have the prospect of retaining the family farm, we are much more inclined to protect it.

One more piece. At least for the near term, we need to capture more tax dollars from those who have them – the mega-income residents; movie stars, sports figures and corporate executives who receive $1 million or more in salary and benefits. Tax deferred income in the current year, with a recapture provision for non-payment. The impact on the treasury will pale in comparison to the lift in nationalism. America will once again be the land of the free and the home of the brave – freed from the fear of health care costs and brave with the courage of adequate military muscle to protect that freedom.

posted by Sparky 4:06 PM

Thursday, September 12, 2002

These Colors Don't Run!

Well, we all tuned in. The day that replaced Veterans' Day, Memorial Day and the 4th of July, September 11, 2002 is now television history.

You mean 2001, don't you?

Well... no. Nine-Eleven, as we have come to call it, remains a national tragedy, and a galvanizing force in America. Yesterday yielded a television producer's dream. From the archive's came the most beautiful clips of tragedy, expertly sliced and diced, some even set to music. We watched more blends and fades than the average producer incorporates in a month of programming. The close of one of these art shows focused down on a little girl, probably about three. The announcer, in somber tone, tells us this little one sums it up best. Then we zoomed in as she said, "Sad. It's very sad."

NO!!! That three year old cannot possibly come to that conclusion. She's three! If her whole family had been wiped out last year, we could understand her saying, "I'm cold," or "I'm thirsty," or "Pick me up!" This is a child actor, granted, probably an amateur. She delivered her carefully scripted line, a closing cameo for a national broadcast finale. I hope some family member captured her debut.
For me, this anonymous little girl summed up the entire day of telecasts; the world's finest and longest editorial competition. We subjected ourselves to a day of Pulitzer Prizes waiting to happen. "Sad. It's very sad."

The 20,000 people who stood out on Bayshore Boulevard in Tampa in the driving rain holding flags...and each other - cheering the jet fighters as they flew over, cheering the fire fighters as they marched by - these people understood. The families holding up pictures of those they lost last year - these people understood. For them, yesterday was a holiday, a day of resolution, an expression of mutual support. In a celebration transcending its participants, thousands shared a memory for a lifetime. Fortunately for them, they experienced a day unedited, unscripted, real.

Nine Eleven will show up as a watershed day in American History, a magical moment in time. Yesterday yielded a remake of American Idol on a grander scale, Americans casting their ballots with their remotes instead of their mice. Are the networks committed to a sequel? Yes. The ratings command it. "Sad. It's very sad."

"These colors don't run," but the videos will - over... and over... and over.

posted by Sparky 9:56 AM

Tuesday, September 10, 2002

Holliday or Hollicost

Tomorrow marks a very special day in American History. It could mark two. Here we teeter on the brink of attacking Iraq, this time basically alone. On this occasion, I write a note that is very unsettling, especially to me.

America Right or Wrong

It is absolutely unrealistic for the "average American" to know what is going on in Iraq. Our government tells us they are building weapons of mass destruction. Our government tells us they are scouring the world to buy atomic bomb components. Is it the truth? Probably so.

World War II was well underway. President Roosevelt, was being pressured into bringing the US into the war. He made speeches and attempted to affect change. When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, the time for talk was over.

Back in the 60's, then President Kennedy faced Missile installations in Cuba. He set up the embargo and turned back Russian ships. No shots were fired, but it is the same saber rattling we are hearing today. When one rattles one must be prepared to follow through. Plunging us into a war at that point would have been awful, but not as bad as if we had waited for the missile installations to be completed.

Today, as we rattle, we bring worldwide attention to the events presumably happening in Iraq. But we have drawn the line in the sand. That government is not going to be permitted to proceed in the direction of assembling nuclear weapons. The rattle is loud... and so far ignored. This can only lead to violence.

As a peace freak, I will be the first to say that war sucks. However, war is inevitable if Iraq will not change course. Is our course a popular one? No. Do we want to place troops at risk? Of course not. But the President, who I voted against, is in the position with maximum information and the backing of the people to make a decision.

Absent change in actions in Iraq, we will act forcefully. It's the American Way. Could it be that we, the public are misinformed? Possibly. But chances are, with today's technology and access to intelligence, we are getting it from different sources. We are fast approaching our last resort, hopefully while we still have resorts scattered along the beaches and elsewhere.

Wait? For what? Until a daycare in DesMoines gets nerve gassed? Until Ohio is considered the Northeast? I think not. Waiting carries with it more risk than attacking. As a non-violent person, it pains me to say, given the available information, it's time!


posted by Sparky 2:16 PM

Friday, August 30, 2002

Happy Holidays?

Following are two recent poems. One is in keeping with the season. The other is in response to a quote shared with me by a writer/friend The quote was not unlike a gauntlet, which I hath nobly taken up!

"Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese."
-- G. K. Chesterton

Before we cut to the cheese, a thoughtful reflection:


Labor Day /Day Labor

Ders sumpin dat I gotsta says
bout dese friggin holly daze.

Youse guys dat sits in fancy clothes
gittin paid ta pick yur nose

and shuffle stuff from stack to stack
doin nut'n till boss come back

while us dat busts our butts outside
gots no place dat we can hide

and when da pay boss cums around
we’d best got shovels in da ground,

taks a minit if yas can
to think kindly on da man

dat digs and sweats hard every day
ta earn da cash dats in yo pay.

Spose we asks fer paid daze too.
Boss say “Whatsa matta you!”

“I pays you fer de daze ya werks
Don’t like? Ders a line a jerks

who’ll werk dis hard fer half da pay.”
“OK, boss, whate’er you say.”

So when dem holly daze come sup
wes gets no pay, jest sucks it up

cuz dems of us dat werks ta eat
don’t find daze off as sucha treat.

Cheesy Cheese

Of all the cheeses
the cheesiest is
that yellow gunk
they call Cheese Whiz.

Convenient to store
it'll last forever.
Often requested?
Virtually never!

Artificial everything,
that's their plan-
there's not much real
except the can.

It has no zing
it has no bite
but a clear first choice
for a tough food fight.

In four thousand two
digging through our junk
archeologists find
these cans of gunk.

Their museums all
will proudly display:
cheese -don't cut,
don't spread, just spray!

Why then in sales
is Cheese Whiz king?
Chalk it up
to marketing!




posted by Sparky 3:13 PM

Oops!

A little item in the New York Times today talks of the coming release of the fine by the World Trade Organization against, of all people, us! A mere $4 billion! The US has already pled guilty to unfair international trade practices, but thaought a billion would be a more appropriate fine for this infraction.

Seems a couple years ago, we past a law giving corporations the ability to avoid certain taxes on exported goods. I didn't hear about that law. Chances are, you didn't either. What it does is effectively let US corporations compete in foreign markets, matching their untaxed goods against locally produced taxed goods. Duh! Like nobody was going to notice? During the approximately two years before the law was replaced this summer, American companies saved an estimated $4.7 billion in taxes.

Let me see.... hmmm... If companies save $4.7 billion and the government pays $4 billion, that means that on average, the individual American taxpayer just got screwed! Correct me if I'm wrong, but not only did our collective tax income take a hit, but we also picked up an additional minor expense. Does this sound like a plan to help big business at the expense of the individual? You decide. Looks like an "Oops" to me.

Meanwhile, in Detroit, a judge threw out a sexual harrassment charge against Ford Motor Company. The company claimed, and the judge agreed, that leaking information that the individual in question had been convicted on previous sexual harrassment charges somehow made it impossible to seat a jury to try this case. Hmmm. That's a new one. Can't be tried if the general public has reason to believe you are guilty.

Coincidentally, the judge declined the plantiff's request for him to step aside because his campaign manager was from the same law firm that was representing Ford in this case. Do you see any problem with this scenerio? Could be another "Oops!"

In "unrelated news," right here in Tampa Bay, a judge, who was out of town at a conference (meaning traveling at our expense) was charged with making unwanted advances on a couple of women, including inproper contact and attempting to force entry into their hotel room. He accepted no-contest censure from the judicial review board for public intoxication. Those women probably feel fully vindicated now, knowing he was drunk and all. Sounds like sexual agression is OK if you have been drinking. What do you think? "Oops?"

OK, old man. Interesting stories, but what is the connection?

Oh, maybe there isn't any. But I can't help thinking about the economic boom we were enjoying up till two years ago. The national debt was going in the right direction. The stock market was going in the right direction. It seems to me, even civil rights were going in the right direction. But an elected official in a high place had a private consensual affair and we decided to make some changes. He tried to hide it. Why, morality needed to be restored to our country. We wanted a government with higher principles. What do you think? In my book, "OOPS!!"
posted by Sparky 10:06 AM

Friday, August 16, 2002

Amber Alert Feared Kidnapped!

As any good businessperson knows, when you have a product of service where demand exceeds supply, you should kill the product so you don’t have delivery problems. If you can’t kill the product altogether, modify it sufficiently to decrease demand.

Whoa, old timer! I don’t know what business school you went to, but something seems a tad bit off here.

Well, seems our political leaders are making a decisions based on just that principle. I was just reading in the New York Times how government and law enforcement officials are concerned that the recent success of the Amber Alert program is creating too much demand. Modifications are being considered to more narrowly restrict the circumstances under which a kidnapped child can be considered for Amber Alert status. According to the article, here is their rationale:

Law enforcement officials and advocates for missing children say that using the alerts too frequently would dull their sense of urgency and make it less likely that a community would snap into action.

Sorry guys. I don’t buy it. I don’t believe the American people will ever consider kidnapped children passé. Imagine, your child has just been kidnapped and the local police officer on duty isn’t sure your situation satisfies the criteria to activate the system. By the time you find someone to appeal to and get the decision overruled, you are planning a funeral.

"That first three hours is the life expectancy of a lot of the abducted children," said Chief Deputy Sheriff Jim Willett in Tarrant County, Tex., where the Amber Alert was created in 1996 after Amber Hagerman of Arlington was killed. "There's a lot of pressure on us, you can imagine, to use the Amber Alert in cases for which it was not designed.”

Not designed? Well, Sheriff Willett, we can help you. Place the alert. My child’s been stolen! You can turn it off in a few hours, as chances are, my unlocated child is another statistic. Finding the kidnapper after my child is dead may go in the books as a crime solved, but the system still failed. Three hours is not much time. Precious minutes and hours needlessly slip away as the system decides anything. Creating more restrictive criteria will only delay and immasculate our Amber Alert system, even for those "lucky kids" who get placed in the system, hours too late.

True, there are going to be times that it is activated inappropriately. But the system works. I would be hard pressed to identify a community situation more in need of our attention than kidnapped children. The only way we can effectively become involved is if those who know of the kidnapping, share the information. If sharing too often turns out to dilute the effectiveness, than we can work on ways to fix that problem.

There are those who try to use the pictures on milk cartons to say the program will become mundane and will lose its ability to work because you and I would learn to ignore it. I’m willing to take that chance. Perhaps some day another system will have to take its place. So. What’s your point? As technology evolves, there will be better systems. I hope we use them. For now, let’s make the best use of the tools we have that are working to save today's children.

Certainly, there were those long ago who said, “Let’s limit the use of stop signs to intersections where we know we have accidents. If we use too many, people will ignore them.” Stop signs have been improved, but have not become passé. Every day people stop at stop signs, even though they stopped there many times and no one was coming. Does it prevent all intersection accidents? Of course not. And Amber Alert isn't going to save all children. However, iIf you issued an Amber Alert every day, I'm betting most of us would pay attention every day.

If you are concerned that Amber Alert is inadequate to handle all types of kidnapped children, work on improving the system. Meanwhile, use the one tool we have that is clearly working.

My young grandchildren will not ride in my car without a seatbelt (and for some, a car seat). Is it because I have a lot of wrecks? Not at all. Its because seat belts save lives. Better safe than sorry. Well guys, Amber Alert saves lives. Better safe than sorry.

posted by Sparky 12:04 PM

Thursday, August 08, 2002

"Star light, star bright...."

In response to a query from one of my writing groups recently, I was prompted to draft the following:



ON WISHES

by Old Dad


To wish is to admit defeat;

To want is to resign the lack thereof.

Arise and have -

Assume your future true

while the present drags you there.



If you were to believe, as I do, that we create our own worlds, then....

Whoa, partner. Did you say "worlds" with the emphasis on "s?"

Well, yes. Each of us lives in our own world.

I thought that was what you were saying. If we are in different worlds, how come we run into each other so often?

Of course, you know that we don't actually run into each other. Your collection of space and mine never actually "touch." but that's another story. As I write, I am looking out my window. Were you sitting next to me, looking out the window, we would not see the same things. You might see beautiful blue skies, picturing lying at the beach. I may see ugly blue skies, picturing my new plants withering for lack of rain. But more likely, I will see the bug walking across the window, or something totally outside your "world."

We have a lot to say about the makeup of our own worlds. You can choose the music, the people, the lighting, quite easily. you can choose what is important. You can choose how you are going to react physically and mentally to your manipulated environment.

Can we go back to the poem? Are you really saying that to wish is to not have?

Of course. Nobody wishes for what they have. A wish, by definition, is a picture of your world the way it is not. Stay with me. "I wish I were in Paris." The universe satisfies this completely. You are someplace other than Paris, just as you chose. Now try, "I am going to Paris in the springtime, when it drizzles." Now you have direction, but difficult to create - still fuzzy. "When you wake up on April 1, 2003, I will already be standing under the Eiffel Tower waiting for the elevator." This is truth. This will happen, if you believe it. You will plan for it, because you know it is true. All the forces of the universe will get you there. It is true.

OK. I am a millionaire.

Nope. You wish you were a millionaire. Your words are empty. There is nothing behind them. Every cell of your body is denying your words. Your mind is saying you will have to scrape to make your car payment. If you bought the winning lottery ticket, you would lose it. Everything you are assumes you will not be a millionaire, and the universe is using all of its resources to see that you are not disappointed.

So, how does the present drag me there?"

When you are aligned with a condition in the future, your present is also attuned to hear, see, feel, know the forces that will help you get there. What was always there, you will see. What you used to crave, you will not even realize you no longer desire. Once the future is certain, the present leads firmly in that direction.

Do you believe that is true?

Absolutely and without exception. You and I are at the least derivatives of the universe, and at best, One. And as Voltaire said through his spokesman Pangloss, "This is the best of all possible worlds."



posted by Sparky 3:06 PM

Monday, July 29, 2002

Everybody Wins! [except the old people]

Last week, the Senate addressed legislation to provide prescription insurance for Medicare recipients. Would you believe, every Senator voted in favor of the coverage!

This is great! When does coverage begin?

Well... It's not that simple. It seems there were two bills - naturally, a Democrat and Republican version. Voting pretty much followed party lines. One got 50 votes, the other 48, or there abouts.

Well, 50 votes should be enough. What happened?

Any bill that is going to create a deficit in the budget needs 60% to pass. So you see, every Senator can go back home and tell grandma and grandpa that they supported the medication bill, but those lousy [opposition party] Senators killed it. Once again, our represenatives have acted in our best interest, both providing for seniors and protecting the budget.

If you will recall, both Presidential candidates promised a medication benefit. It has been nearly two years since that election. Many thousands of voters who went to the polls in November 2000 will never live to see the #1 Medicare issue resolved. Everybody says they want it. Everybody votes for it. It just doesn't happen. Meanwhile, back in Washington....


posted by Sparky 11:58 AM

Tuesday, July 09, 2002

Economic Forecast - Cloudy, 70% Chance of Rain

In his New York Times article this morning, "Levi's Shifts Into a Lower Gear," Stuart Elliott goes to great length in explaining the Levi's market strategy for their low rise jeans. A product available "everywhere" for women, they have been available almost nowhere for men... until now. Levi's concept of setting the trend, not following it, will be everywhere in print and electronic media. Perhaps you have already seen it. Seems we are going to have the pleasure of exploring the male anatomy below the navel much as we have with the young ladies.

Now, mind you, I am not complaining about fashion, or the exposed abdomens. If you can show them at the beach, why not at the mall? Much like the beach, however, many forgo flattering attire for more skin, even if that skin surrounds an excess of Big Macs.

No matter what you think of the exposed anatomy, the "waistline" is definitely headed lower, creating even more canvas for the budding artists with dyes and needles... and of course, let us not forget the jewelers. But that is still not the point.

A well established economic barometer has been the hemline. When the hemline goes up, the economy goes down. Problem is, American youth, male and female wear few skirts. The fashion industry, and Levi's in particular has the solution: If you can't raise the hem, lower the waistline!

So, my friends, much as I would love to be telling you to jump into the market, the economy is about to take off, I would hate to see you caught with your pants down, so to speak. When you start to see covered navels in the fashion mags again, it will be time to cover your losses in the market. Until then, stay with the boreing, dividend paying recession resistent investments - and don't send your kids to Target with a credit card! You may get less than you're paying for! [Good news! When your kids complain their pants are too short, just tell them to pull 'em down!]

Special note to those holding depressed portfolios: Newton never said, "What goes down, must come up!" Quality investments have traditionally recovered losses over time. Speculative investments vary widely. "Hold on if you can" may be bad advice, depending on what you are holding. When everything is going up, everybody picks winning strategies. Look around for advisors, managers, or funds that have been winning since last October. These are your new best friends!

Special note on Levi's: In February, Levi's cut their US production capacity from 6 plants to 1, moving most remaining US manufacturing overseas. Their one remaining US plant in San Antonio has a modest pay scale by US standards, and has bi-lingual supervisors to accomodate recent arrivals from Mexico. Levi's may just be the financialbarometer we need. They seem to be making significant accommodations to economic situations.

Hot tip: If you want to know what a stock is worth (as opposed to what you paid for it, check what the insiders are selling at (available on Yahoo and other services). Then deduct several percent for fees and stuff. If the CEO and other major stockholders are willing to sell at 20, is it likely the stock is headed for 30? Just wondering!



posted by Sparky 12:11 PM

Tuesday, June 25, 2002

Supreme Court Gets It!

A few days ago, I shared with you the idea the the Supreme Court is off task. So it is only fair that I compliment the justices for their decision yesterday that only the jury could impose a death penalty. This seems totally consistent with the "trial by peers" concept. Hopefully, the Court will have reason in the future to extrapolate this decision to non-capital offenses where judges impose penalties.

"Now wait a minute. You mean to tell me that judges should be bound by the sentence recommendations of the jury?"

Well.... yes! Provided the recommendation of the jury is within the extablished parameters of the law, their decision should stand. The role of the judge was designed to be the facilitator that assures that the proceedings flow according to law.

"But that violates a long tradition of judging in this country!

Yes! Better late than never!


posted by Sparky 3:59 PM

No Sweat

In "Let Them Sweat" Mr. Kristoff, and subsequently his discussion partners agree on the assumption that the US attitude toward sweat shops is somehow based on the welfare of the workers, the protection of the environment, or some other altruistic prupose. If only that were true.

US history is repleat with examples of foreign affairs based on devine self-interest. If the sweatshops were producing a product under miserable conditions that was net more expensive than products produced domestically, there would be no issue. Politicians would be happy to leave the governing of other countries to local leadership. However, when those products arrive at Home Depot or WalMart at rediculously low prices, then, and only then, do we become concerned about the human rights and environment issues.

In generations past, government was able to accomplish economic support for domestic industry, and support the government, by taxing such products to obtain balance. In today's political arena, we need to develop more "public scrutiny friendly" methods of turning the economic spread between our countries into a positive.

If our agenda really is to improve the quality of life in other countries or to preserve aspects of the environment, we are merely puffing to tell other countries how to operate. Better we should use our economic resources, gained at point of entry or point of sale, to create economic incentives for change. That is, of course, assuming we want to affect change.
posted by Sparky 3:43 PM

Friday, June 21, 2002

Supreme Court Justices Don't Get It!

Following is an excerpt (lifted from yesterday's AP story carried in the New York Times) which gives the rational of this august body with regard to executing mentally retarded murderers. Take a look:

Of the 38 states that have a death penalty, 18 now prohibit executing the retarded, up from 2 when the court last considered the question in 1989. This "dramatic shift in the state legislative landscape," especially when anticrime legislation is extremely popular, "provides powerful evidence that today our society views mentally retarded offenders as categorically less culpable than the average criminal," Justice John Paul Stevens wrote for the 6-to-3 majority

I don't mid sharing that I am against the death penalty, if for no other reason than is is an economic nightmare! We warehouse death row inmates for years, pay for their appeals, and eventually zap them. Life in prison with no parole seems a viable economic alternative, and possibly more humane in the process.

Butr I was disturbed at the ruling of the Supreme Court based on a shift in public opinion, rather than the law. Oh, sure, they cite a shift in the tenor of state laws, but their charge is to uphold the federal law, based on the Constitution and stuff like that. If they are going to take into account public opinion, how about ruling that 7 mile per hour over the posted speed limit isn't really speeding, or that claiming undocumentable deduction of your income tax is now legal - because everybody does it!

I am ordinarily delighted when the Supreme Court actually gives the little guy the break the founding fathers intended in the Bill of Rights. i remain extremely disappointed, not on their present decision, but thier lack of legal basis for that decision!
posted by Sparky 11:44 AM

Monday, June 10, 2002

Harvard Admissions Reps Don't Get It!

Not to be outdone by the inept faculty, Harvard admissions is considering accepting students who have already accepted early admissions at another college.

OK. Let's face it. Harvard is Harvard and the rest aren't. Whether of not the change in practice is legal, it violates the intent of the agreement among colleges to respect the others' contracts. If Harvard continues in this direction, a major war is brewing.

It is much like what happens if one airline unilaterally changes their reservation system. Everybody suffers. Suppose Princeton offers 500 early admissions per year, blocking out those positions in the freshman class, turning down subsequent applicants based on full enrollment. Those applicants now go elsewhere and get accepted. Later in the season, 50 of their early admissions students, who have contracted to attend Princeton in return for the guaranteed space, pull out. Can Princeton simply go back and enroll the 50 best applicants they had turned away? It will never happen. Commitments have been made. Students have gone public with their college choices. It could take several hundred offers to fill the 50 slots at a late date - an expensive proposition resulting in a watered down freshman class.

"Now you have gone too far, old man. What ever happened to freedom of choice?"

When you go out to buy a car, you have freedom of choice. But when you write up the contract and the car is delivered to you, it is a bit late to say you want to change your mind. The law provides you three days to back out. Then it is yours. And rightfully so. You have accepted deliver on that product. They cannot sell it to someone else, even if they have a more qualified buyer come along, A business deal is a business deal. College early enrollment is a business deal. It may not be ideal, but it was put in place to solve a problem.

Back in the good old days (the sixties), students were encouraged to apply to several schools, collect up the acceptances, and then pick one. The problem was, colleges could not manage the system. When they "accepted' applicants, they would have to way over-book because they knew a significant number would drop away. This created a hardship on the college system, which as been successfully, if not perfectly, reducing this problem for decades.

I can see it now: Maw and Paw University is pleased to announce that you have been selected for early enrollment. Please send your $10,000 reservation fee by next week Tuesday or the offer is withdrawn in favor of another student. In the event you attend, the $10,000 will be applied toward tuition or other fees you incur. If you do not attend, thank you for the contribution.

No, Harvard will not have a problem enrolling students. In fact, they may offer special consideration to applicants holding an early acceptance for another university. Its a business right? Well... yes, but it is a self-regulated business, which may end up with external regulation if the major players cannot agree. In this case, one player is suggesting a unilateral rules change. the change is not in the best interest of the higher education system. They may be forcing the creation of an academic NCAA type organization to patrol the playing field. Nobody wants that, and Harvard can obviate the need. Let's hope they see the big picture... and care!

posted by Sparky 3:52 PM

Thursday, May 23, 2002

Big Brother ain't so big, after all!

I love the New York times. Thay have people everywhere and they manage to be on top of the top stories. Sometimes, like today, they are standing too close. The missed the story that will "unfold," probably tomorrow.

By now you have heard, seen, and read all you want to know about Gary Condit's aide. I know she had a name, but you and I know there is no missing person story that hangs on for a year unless it is related to a "player." The headline omits her name, as have I.

Anyway, the NYT runs a lengthy article about how she was found in a remote part of Rock Creek Park, discovered by a man walking his dog. There was no indication of any attempt to bury the body. Her bones were "scattered", apparently done by animals, and her clothes were "nearby." Although the autopsy is yet to be done, experts are saying the body could have been placed there later, but probably not!

"OK. I'll bite. What does this have to do with Big Brother?"

If the young lady has been reposing in her altogether, decomposing in the park, just 4 miles from her home, where do you suppose those hundreds of police with pooches were looking? In the middle of the road? I am sure you recall weeks of national news coverage - the all out search of (Duh!) Rock Creek Park.

Now I may be premature. The spin doctors may be able to recover. When they realize the body was right under their best noses, a story may come forward "conclusively proving" that the body was not there. I can script it now.

NBC reporter: "Officer Krupke, what light can you shed on the recent discovery of the Congressman's Aide in Rock Creek Park?"
Officer Krupke in uniform with panting dog at his side: "Ma'am, Bruno and I were assigned to the sector where the alleged Aide was discovered. He and I stood on that very spot last year. We covered that whole sector. There was no body there then, ma'am. That's for sure."
NBC reporter: "Well, Officer Krupke, how do you suppose she got there?" (Normal dumb followup question to stretch airtime)
Officer Krupke: "Well, ma'am, if I was trying to hide a body, I'd probably put it where I knew they had already quit looking."

So watch for the above story. In the interim, don't be too terribly concerned about the awesome abilities of Big Brother, who can't even find a dead girl in the park where they are concentrating their search.

posted by Sparky 4:18 PM

Wednesday, May 22, 2002

Harvard professors don't get it!

In the New York Times today is an article, Harvard Faculty Votes to Put the Excellence Back in the A. This is proof positive that thinking gets distorted in the ivory (or in this case ivy) tower.

First of all, this "unanimous decision" was by voice vote in a open meeting with less than a third of the faculty present, likely the junior faculty still fighting for tenure, for whom attendance is mandatory.

Second, although this is the New York Times account and not official minutes, there is no indication of any heated discussion. A voice vote with a unanimous outcome is not normally associated with a serious philosophical discussion among noted thinkers. I chuckle at the following:

Ms. Pedersen [Dean of Undergraduate Studies] and two other deans openly agonized that the changes could backfire. In putting a cap on the number of students permitted to earn honors, they fretted, they might discourage students from taking intellectual risks like writing a senior thesis or taking a challenging course.

"Agonized?" "Could backfire?" It is a little late, Dr. Pendersen. [Interesting the NYT refers to her as "Ms."] Where were your dissenting votes? Looks like a shallow protest for those in your positions of responsibility.

Third, there is no rationale offered for why the change is necessary or how it will improve education, or even what was wrong with the old system.

So let's take a look at it the way Old Dad sees it:

Harvard University has been for generations the university of universities, the standard of excellence, the standard bearer for academia - in short, the undisputed heavyweight champion of the academic ring. Changes at Harvard are noticed and widely emulated.

Only the very top students get admitted. Most are Valedictorians (or close) and excel in other areas as well. They head off to Harvard expecting a quality education in a competitive atmosphere. Many plan, and should, to continue beyond the bachelor's level. The standards are incredibly tough, but the system has evolved to the point where some 90% of the student body graduate with "some kind of honors." I for one would expect no less, given the assemblage of ability they attract.

First blush may tell you the 90% is way too high. Apparently these bright young Harvard faculty came to that conclusion. It is the same kind of mentality that says half of a company's employees are substandard and should be treated accordingly, even though the business is thriving. Businesses, at least those that know anything about human motivation, have learned that this system sucks. It's the "survival in the jungle" method - the slowest natives get eaten by the lions, no matter how fast they run! There is no standard - just beat others. If all else fails, trip your buddy!

Imagine if your local school board got together and decided, "Since 50% of our entering freshmen, don't graduate, we need to fail 50% of our honor students. That will be fair for everybody." Sound stupid? Yup!

"Wait a minute. That's not what they are saying at Harvard. They just want their honors to have more meaning."

Meaning to whom? To the graduate who doesn't get into med school because she chose to compete with the best instead of being a leader at a less rigorous university? I think not. Meaning to the general public? The general public has no idea what is going on and doesn't care. Meaning to their colleagues? Well... maybe we are on to something here. Those who already have a sticker on their diploma from Harvard, now in prime positions around the country, including college faculty - including many sitting in that room voting - just got a retroactive promotion. No one will remember when the system changed. They just perceptually moved from the top 90% to the top 50%.

Well, the Harvard faculty, blessed with the world's fastest natives as undergraduates, has just turned them loose in the jungle. No matter how well they train and how fast they run, half are going to be eaten by the lions. That's the collective wisdom of the pompous creeps who already got into graduate schools, got their PhDs, and landed prime professorships - under the system they just threw out. Meanwhile, blissfully niave young sprinters, with all their high school gold medals around their necks, believing they will be training to be the best they can be at the world's most esteemed training facility, are about to be dropped in the academic jungle. They will soon discover there are now lions lurking in the ivy.

Meanwhile, other natives, fast in their own right, will attend other quality universities, gather the honors, and land the limited grad school slots formerly occupied by Harvard alums. The grand leveling of education has finally impacted number 1. No longer will parents aspire to send their prized offspring to Harvard. At least those parents who can read between the lies of college admissions reps will see that their $100,000 plus investment may actually be handicapping their children in their chosen fields.

"You must think Harvard professors are stupid. Certainly they have thought through the consequences of their actions."

Probably. At least some have. Crippling half of their undergraduate charges apparently is not their concern. Some may think they have just raised the bar for academic excellence. In fact, they just hid the bar. They, in their wisdom, will decide where the bar should be after the competition closes. They have made their own academic standards relative.

The truth likely is, sadly, many of those in that room don't really want to teach. At the very least, they don't want to teach "little people". Small graduate courses might be OK, as long as they only have to teach one or, at the most, two classes. They want to write their novels, textbooks and the like. The want to consult or do research. They enjoy the groveling both on and off campus that comes with wearing the Harvard robe. Putting up with undergraduate children is the dues they pay on the way to tenure. Those who understand, know that a lot of innocent kids just got screwed. Likely, the assembled faculty's collective response is, "Oh well."

I started with the premise, "This is proof positive that thinking gets distorted in the ivory (or in this case ivy) tower." Generations of Harvard gray matter have collaborated to evolve a system challenging the brightest of individuals to excel. But today's generation of Harvard professor resembles those of generations past as much as today's collection of pro baseball players resembles their predecessors. It may look like the same game, but the motivations have very much changed. The mantle of responsibility has been passed along, to the benefit of the recipients, but to the detriment of the rest of us. Change happens. This change does not yield a net gain.

"Why do you care? Did the earth shake? Does this mark the end of civilization as we know it?"

Well, yes. The product of our model university is about to change, and not for the better (in my view). There is a new unprinted standard for academic ethics. Those who graduate with honors from the new Harvard will have developed incredible skills in the area of tripping their buddies. This may produce a sharper lawyer, but it will not produce a better person. Harvard "competitors" will likely follow this lead. Ultimately, the entire education system will be impacted in known and unknown ways.

Today, changes that used to take generations now take months. We will all feel the shock waves of this apparently innocuous decision. The New York Times and I recognize that something major just happened at that private gathering in Boston. The impact will be felt. Society as we know it, just changed. Temporary glitches, like the World Trade Center tragedy, pale in long-term impact to the action of these two hundred educator wannabes who obviously have no world view from their cloister in the tower... or can see, but don't care.




posted by Sparky 2:30 PM

Monday, May 13, 2002

sclark@complus.net & other stuff

Thanks to the marvels of technology, Old Dad receives email! About 100 times a day! Twice! I get them at work. Then I go home and get them again. Actually, it was my choice to set it up this way. It gives me the option to handle the personal stuff at home and the business at work. Pretty spiffy, n'est pas?

Anyway, though it may sound like complaining, I thought I was getting pretty darned good at deleting all the stuff I didn't want and all the stuff I didn't want where I was - that is till I had the opportunity to observe Dr. Clark (son Russ) go through his mail. There are three card monty (not to be confused with full monty) dealers that move slower than Russ through mail. I didn't know whether to be proud or humbled by this slight of delete exposition. He can sort tag and clean his inbox faster while I am still looking for "control" "A" "delete"!

Which brings me to the point. Having earned the "Old" part of my "Old Dad" moniker, I have a tendency to actually read what I receive in my inbox. Feedback doesn't have to be kind to be good. So if you have a hankering to send out something you would actually like read, feel free to send it my way.

Now, on to the other stuff -

Yesterday, Nancy's three skinny sons surprised her with a fat boy. Hey, I don't make this stuff up. I just spit it back out. A "Fat Boy" is an ingenious combination of bent pipe, bungee chord and wheels that nestles over the nose of a kayak, turning it instantly into a hand drawn cart. Being the designated hand drawer, I nonetheless greatly appreciate the gift, as it gave us the ability to go kayaking in the Gulf yesterday. Kayaking in the surf is fun! Landing is like surfing. You just get up to speed and ride on in. There were likely many beach dwellers wondering if these old folks were on speed, but no matter. A trip and a half. Thanks guys!

I am in the early stages of writing a novel! "Too good to be true." I hear you thinking. Well, Random House hasn't sent a retainer or anything (is there still a Random House?) so I am churning out tidbits, but it is interesting. If you would like to be in it, let me know. Better yet, if you don't want to be in it, let me know! Otherwise, keep a lookout for yourself at a bookstore near you!

Well, that's the other stuff! Remember to opt out if you are so inclined!





posted by Sparky 4:35 PM

Wednesday, April 24, 2002

Listen to the Sunset


Last weekend we were camping in a little park on Siesta Key (near Sarasota, Florida). Sunset was due about 8 p.m. About 7:30, campers started filtering out onto the beach. Kids were playing in the gentle surf. A dad was trying to engineer pictures of this natural event. Another was overheard, "If only a sailboat would cross the horizon and a gull would fly by, this would make a great picture."

But most were content to watch as the sun approached the water and the sky announced the sun's pending departure with its array of colors in transition. Spoiled somewhat by a frequent dose of beautiful sunsets, I nonetheless was enjoying the serenity of this typical performance.


As the sun mades its final silent blip and sank beyond the horizon, a spontaneous round of applause followed. The eclectic collection signifies approval. And in that moment, differences faded as we expressed a common appreciation for the gift of natural beauty.

The play was over. The kids were extracted from the surf. The cameras were carefully stowed. The audience filtered back to their respective transitory homes. Throughout this day, and into the night, we ventured to this very beach, each with our own agendas. But this trip we were one.

The run continues. Tonight the play resumes. Scheduled long ago, there are still prime tickets available. And though the transitory colors may feature different hues, and though the faces change, the play remains. And when the silent blip prompts spontaneous applause, it rings out not for the picture, but the artist. And though the play shows daily variations, the significant change is within the audience.

Those who say there is no answered prayer have never really listened to the sunset.

posted by Sparky 11:31 AM

Thursday, April 18, 2002

Old Dad, the Futurist

[light bulb] Now I understand!

e-Learning is currently focused on business training and other end users who can afford to buy packages from the e-Learning software companies. The applications for higher education are still a small part of the market. The “thinkers,” cloistered in academic pockets (universities) are currently maintaining their distance, not unlike the monks of the middle ages, choosing to ignore Gutenberg.

However, e-Learning is coming to public and private education in a BIG way. The New York Times reports today that the Philadelphia Public School System has been divided up into seven pieces and has been parceled out to private operators. This may not be the first but certainly the biggest move today to make public education work. Some might call that tending to the business of education. The single biggest cost of education is teachers. [That is unless you count transportation, but that's another story.] Private operators, in an attempt to drive down per pupil costs, will turn to e-Learning as a viable tool - at first in conjunction with the classroom teacher - but eventually as the medium of choice for conveying lessons.

Being nearly 56, and many years beyond the PTA stage, this doesn't affect me nearly as much as the next two generations. During the "transition" there will be many decisions made regarding philosophical and content issues, with our without your input. Your children, especially the youngest will be the guinea pigs for new systems, some of which likely will fail. Home schooling, with the aid of e-Learning providers, will explode. Your grandchildren will have the option of never darkening a school threshold - and the choice may not be their own.

Education is already international in a primitive sort of way. But you are going to see kids, little kids, from all over the world e-rolled at the best US elementary schools. Geographical barriers will melt away; accept for currency issues, which will be one of the tougher logistic problems, especially fixed vs. fluid exchange rate tuition. The only currently likely non-English speaking competitors on the horizon are 3: Germany and Japan for current technical prowess, and China for its mammoth needs.

Ironically, cutting edge disciplines, like computer fields, who have made possible the development of e-Learning, may well trail in the use of this tool because the content is updated so frequently. But ultimately, the changing learning modalities of our youngsters will drag the die-hard “hands on” educators kicking and screaming into what will soon be the main stream.

“But wait a minute. You seem to be overlooking the relationship value in the pupil-teacher relationship.”

Oh, are you referring to the parenting part of the current teacher’s job description? Well then, you are right. But it seems to me that the nurturing role may be an option we cannot afford. It doesn’t exist in all education systems around the world and, contrary to “Little House of the Prairie” images, did not exist to any extent here before WWII.

“But what about discipline? Who will see to it that children stay on task and do their work?”

Believe it or not, parents. Children will progress at their own rate. The classes will be taught by the best of the best. Most will want to attack school much like they attack video games. But for those who choose to dawdle, parents will be reminded by their daily electronic report card that Johnny blew off school today. Grading will include not only achievement and grade level, but comparison to the norm for children of similar age and academic ability. When Johnny starts slipping, everyone will know - immediately. School monitors (formerly teachers) will receive daily electronic reports on their charges, which may result in that tried and true motivator, Parent-Teacher Conferences! Trust me, students will stay on task!

“OK, bright boy. What about the hands on stuff? There’s everything from building blocks to musical instruments. What about handwriting and art? And what about science experiments?”

Some of the best artwork today is produced digitally. Handwriting can be recognized and interpreted on the simplest of palm pilots, presenting little challenge to an e-Learning environment. And they tell me many science experiments are now simulated digitally for cost and safety reasons. But there will still be a place for hands-on learning, and there will be much more time for such activities, at least for those who stay on task.

“So what makes you think parents will stand for these changes?”

The education system changes every day. How much control do parents have now. There may be a small percentage of “gap kids” for whom the system works poorly. But most will learn more, faster, with cost savings to the parents, schools and law enforcement. The swell of public outcry will be at best, a ripple.

In the early 50’s the Town of Perinton formed “Fairport Central Schools.” They bought a bunch of buses, closed the one-room school houses, and brought the kids to town. There was one elementary school and one high school. This was duplicated across the country. School systems grew up. School Boards hired Superintendents to administer a complete package. Teachers increasingly became specialists, no longer teaching several grades in the same room. Revolutionary change - minimal resistance.

In our town, a new high school was built. Because of growth, the old high school became a junior high school. No resistance. Seventh and eighth graders had their own building, not by design but by necessity. This also happened nationwide. Some were 6-8 grades, some 7-9, depending on space available It took a generation to determine the error of placing large numbers of adolescents together in this manner.

MY senior year in high school (1963-64), I took a “programmed learning” solid geometry course. As I recall, there were 6 of us who went to an empty classroom one period a day and worked in our notebooks. A concept was introduced, followed by problems to work. We scored ourselves. If the grade was high enough, you skipped to the next section. If not, you did another lesson on the same concept. We talked some, but mostly we pushed each other. We all passed the final with good grades… and had a great time in the process! There was no teacher assigned. If we had questions, we had a time slot to go see the chair of the math department. This rarely happened.

“So, what’s your point?”

That was nearly 40 years ago. This “over-night sensation”, e-Learning, has deep roots. Successful roots. Technology has replaced the primitive notebooks of the 60’s and a maturing concept is about to take over. It’s about time! At the same time were producing substandard results with junior high schools. They are disappearing. It's also about time!

“Let me ask again. What’s your point?”

Control. Who will take control of the technology and the content? Fortunes are at stake. So are principles. Junior high schools were economically sound, but turned out to be educationally deficient. Who will control the decisions? Educators? Accountants? Computer technicians? Politicians? Stockholders? Who will step up to lead while the leadership role is still accepting applications? In a leadership vacuum, the best never arise to the top, but we all get sucked along! If those who care about education don't give leadership to e-Learning now, other interests will.


posted by Sparky 2:30 PM

Tuesday, April 16, 2002

On Peace

I belong to several Internet writers' groups. Recently, a member of one of those groups posted a poem related to the current situation in the Middle East. A relatively heated discussion ensued. In response, I penned the following -

Inspired by current discussions, here's a little ditty I call:

WORLD PIECE

As long as there are victors
there will be victims.

As long as there are aggressors
there will be retribution.

Two wrongs never make a right
but two rights often yield a wrong.

The answer is so simple
yet so incredibly difficult.

To love one who loves you
can at times be tough.

To love one who killed your sister
favors the inconceivable.

Some would say even God gave up
and with Noah started over.

Love is not a bargaining chit.
Purchased it is worthless.
Unencumbered, priceless.

Who will be the first?
Who will forgive the unforgivable?
Who will trust the untrustworthy?
Who will love the unlovable?

We each control World Peace in our own World Piece.

"Tell me, how many cheeks must turn?"

Every one.

"Yeah, right. And who's to go first?"

Everyone.

"And what's Plan B?"

Ask Noah.




If, as I believe, we are both separate and the same, what we do to each other we do to ourselves, it is in each of our best interest to Love each other unilaterally and unequivocally. Some of us are easier to love than others, but that doesn't matter.

"OK. Now you've done it. What about terrorists? What about the criminally insane? Do we just love them and let them continue their destructive ways?"

Do we just love our children and let them break the dishes? When our body manufactures cancer, do we just love it? Or do we treat it, hopefully in such a way as to eliminate the threat to the rest of our body. We cut it out or otherwise neutralize it. Sometimes we also neutralize "innocent" cells. Sometimes, in our primitive ways, the treatment is more hazardous than the disease. When we as the body human discover a cancer that threatens to destroy us, we do likewise - decisively with compassion, hopefully with minimal peripheral damage.

"Does not evil threaten to overthrow the good in us, individually and collectively?"

I personally do not support the existence of evil, so, for me this is a non-question.
"Is there enough time to work for world peace before we blow each other up?"

Since I believe time is a method created to break down Now into bite sized pieces, and that there is only one Now, peace can only be Now or not Now.

"You're so weird!"

Yes we are.
posted by Sparky 12:53 PM

Thursday, March 21, 2002

One wore Blue and one wore Gray



Recently God and I were bouncing around the concepts of adversarial vs. collegial.

“Hold it right there, buddy. Where do you get off implying that you and God are equals? I just don’t think God has to bounce anything around with you!”


Whatever. Anyway, as I was saying….



“Not so fast, slippery one. Let’s deal with the bouncing thing first!”



Moving right along, we were….



“Stop! Explain yourself.”



Peace. As you may know, God is everywhere, all the time, no exceptions. Have you ever heard someone say,” I must have been behind the door when God handed out brains.” That dog don’t hunt. God was behind the door too. The innate talents we have, in fact all of our heredity, is as it should be. You and I are not identical, only equal. How we develop and what we do with our talents is more internally guided.

“There you go again! Can’t you ever just stay with one subject?”



Time out. Let me ask you a question. Do you suppose you could drop the adversarial role for a few minutes and work with me here?



“Well… OK. But I still want to understand your opening statement.”



We’ll get to it. Can we agree that God is everywhere, all the time?


“Basically yes. Sometimes, even most of the time, we sail along not conscious of God’s presence.”


Exactly! But does our consciousness effect God’s presence? Can we affect that presence merely by not being aware of it?



“Of course not! We can’t tell God where to be and where not to.”


So we are together so far. Now, which part of God is present, right here - right now.



“Which part? You mean a finger or eyelid or something? That’s ridiculous! You can’t split up God into body parts!”



Then, would you say the God is totally here?



“Yes. Yes, I would. God is here, totally.”


And there?

“And there, totally. God can be, and is, everywhere, all the time, totally.”



Now, as you know, I am not convinced that time exists, but for now, lets use the concept. At this very moment God is surrounding both of us.


“Yes, at this moment and every moment.”



So what about within us? Is God also inside us, or does God kind of get out of the way as we pass?



“Well…. you got me. I guess so. If God is everywhere, then that includes inside us.”



Exactly, so, when I am conscious of God’s presence and I am bouncing an idea around in my head, God is a part of that event. Therefore, God and I are bouncing it around.


“I think there may be some semantics going on here, but I understand your concept. Now, where were you headed with the adversarial vs. collegial thing?”


If you notice our conversation, we started out adversarial. We did not agree, for whatever reason. The “natural tendency” is to fight it out. That’s the way with much of life, from the crucial to the incidental issues. We have our opinions and are ready to do battle. We think in terms of right and wrong - black and white - good and bad.



Think of it like the Civil War. Remember that song from the sixties:



“Two brothers on their way-
One wore Blue and one wore Gray.”



Both sides thought they were right, making the other wrong. So they killed each other. In retrospect, neither was right nor wrong. They had different data and different experiences that lead them to conflicting conclusions. They chose up teams and fought it out - to the death for many. Did it settle anything? Little if anything.



Did we learn anything from their bloodshed? Little if anything. We still “resolve” differences by force, using whatever tools of destruction we have at our disposal - words, fists, law suits. We seem to prefer win-lose results over win-win.


So, God and I were bouncing around the idea that cooperation may be a more useful tool than conflict. And since, virtually nothing is “black or white.” there is little to be gained fighting over “blue or gray” issues.



“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?”



If you want the truth, no. As we have progressed through this discussion, God and I have bounced around our responses. No rewrites (other than spell check). What you see is what we collaborated.



Now comes the big leap. If God is in you and in me, when I strike out at you, I hit God. It’s like David Letterman taking a poke at Mike Tyson. One could get hurt. Certainly there is little to be gained.



And if you would like to go the final step with me, you and I are not separate and distinct. When I swing at you, I hit me, for though we are separate, we are One. Two brothers, on our way - One wears Blue and One wears Gray.

posted by Sparky 4:08 PM

Monday, March 18, 2002

In loco parentis

After I posted last week (see below) I got to thinking. Now I have been told that thinking can be a good thing. My grandfather was prone to say, "Make sure brain is in gear before putting mouth in motion." I wonder why he kept saying that to me.

Anyway, I was thinking, what was the intent of the board when they decided to issue a "Values Statement." I decided to take a look and see if, in fact, I had missed something . In fact I did. Let's take a look:

Miami is a scholarly community whose members believe that a liberal education is grounded in qualities of character as well as of intellect. This begs to be broken down

Miami is a scholarly community - This is true by definition, one of my favorite techniques. Good start, but look out from here!
whose members - Who is a member? Board? Staff. Faculty? Students? Alumni? Some or all of the above? I guess we are supposed to know - or not.
believe that - Wow! All members believe the same thing. Amazing!
a liberal education - Certainly they didn't proof read this. Even if this were true, which of course it isn't, they couldn't say so... not and plan on future support from the State of Ohio.
is grounded in qualities of character, as well as intellect. Huh? Measuing intellect is questionable. Determining character is a real crap shoot. Speaking of crap, sentence one fits.

We respect the dignity of other persons, the rights and property of others, and the right of others to hold and express disparate beliefs. - This is the disclaimer sentence. It says we are not responsible for the words or actions of our members. Blame them individually.

We believe in honesty, integrity and the importance of moral conduct. - How nice. Does each incoming student and faculty member receive a morality handbook? No? Maybe they each come with their own ideas on these areas, because they are DIVERSE!

We defend the freedom of inquiry that is the heart of learning and combine that freedom with the exercise of judgment and the acceptance of personal responsibility. - I think this means, mom and dad, that when your daughter gets pregnant, the young man of "disparate beliefs" (or despirate, I'm not sure) will do "the right thing." Of course, only he knows what the right thing is, but don't blame the university. Oh, and, by the way, if one of our faculty should act in a manner not depicted in our promotional materials, they are just exercising their "freedom of inquiry." We wouldn't want to stiffle freedom, after all.

So... what's missing? What ever happened to affordable education? What about preparation for a career? What about a safe, secure environment? And where does it say, "Our sports teams will have winning records or we will fire the coaches?" Ah, but at least the coaches have a chance because it also doesn't say, every student will have to meet certain academic standards. Whew!

When I attended Miami, "in loco parentis" was in the catalog. Basically, it meant we will continue the parenting of your child as if he or she were our own. It was the basis on which women dorms - where all undergraduate women lived - had a curfew. You remember - women's dorms where boys (after all, we were boys) did not tread, except twice a year on dorm open house days - NOT NIGHTS.

"Hey," you say, "Mother Miami aint your mother any more!"

I believe the board said that. But they chose college speak and labeled it Miami's values statement!



posted by Sparky 3:02 PM

Friday, March 15, 2002

Hmmmm.

I enjoyed 4 wonderful years at Miami University in sleepy Oxford, Ohio. Off the beaten path and without cars for undergraduate residents (legal that is, but that’s another story), Miami created an oasis where adolescents could dabble in intellectual and social pursuits. It was a wonderful time - in our country’s history - in my life.

I ask your indulgence while we stand together. Join if if you like as I sing my alma mater:

Old Miami, New Miami Original verses by A.H. Upham

Old Miami from thy hillcrest,
Thou hast watched the decades roll,
While thy sons have quested from thee,
Sturdy hearted, pure of soul.

Aging in thy simple splendor,
Thou the calm and they the storm;
Thou didst give them joy in conquest,
Strength from thee sustained their arm.

Now of late thyself envigored,
Larger usefulness awaits;
Hosts assemble for thy blessing,
Youth and maiden throng thy gate.

Thou shalt stand a constant beacon,
Crimson tow'rs against the sky;
Men shall ever seek thy guiding,
Pow'r like thine shall never die.

Chorus (between each verse and at end)

Old Miami! New Miami!
Days of old and days to be;
Weave the story of thy glory,
Our Miami, here's to thee!

You may be seated. Works for me. Apparently, there were those who felt compelled to improve on old man Upham’s work.

Additional verses added April 1989 (solicited from alumni, students, faculty, staff):

Our Miami, alma mater,
Ages old yet ever new;
Sons and daughters from your hillcrest,
Roam the world, yet ne'er leave you.

You've embraced the generations,
Men and women, young and old,
Of all races, from all nations,
And your glory will be told.

Though the years may bring their changes,
Your bright lamp will ever burn,
Giving wisdom, truth, and knowledge
To each one who comes to learn.

Our Miami, you were founded
In our nation's early days;
Now we join with generations
In this song of love and praise.

Now old man Upham lived before the day of “PC” and tended to use male instead of gender-neutral phrases, except for the “youth and maiden” reference. I understand why some wanted to add the inclusive language. OK. I don’t need it, but it is non-offensive.

Then, a couple weeks ago, along came the following:

Miami’s values statement
Miami’s board of trustees adopted the following values statement at its Feb. 8 meeting.

"Miami is a scholarly community whose members believe that a liberal education is grounded in qualities of character as well as of intellect. We respect the dignity of other persons, the rights and property of others, and the right of others to hold and express disparate beliefs. We believe in honesty, integrity and the importance of moral conduct. We defend the freedom of inquiry that is the heart of learning and combine that freedom with the exercise of judgment and the acceptance of personal responsibility."

It leads me to wonder if said board has ever read the alma mater. Or if they have ever heard that sage advice, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” Try to imagine how many meetings and how may drafts resulted in these exact words, apparently saying nothing new to the few who might ever read such a statement.

But look what crept in here: “liberal education,” “character,” “respect,” “moral conduct,” “personal responsibility,” just to spot the most obvious. Miami’s values statement doesn’t define any values. Oh, sure, it says values exist and you otta have ‘em. But what are they and who decides and do they decide what the values are before you come there or do they wait till something happens and then decide that was a violation of “Miami values.” This looks to me like a bunch of rich old board members disavowing any responsibility for anything that happens on campus.

The Miami values to me, and I would suggest to most graduates, are the memories. We knew nothing of boards of directors and their liability issues. The old Miami of the 60’s (1860’s or 1960’s) didn’t need a values statement, nor does the new Miami of the 00’s. Everything we need is in the alma mater, and old man Upham did just fine creating a values legacy for all of us.

posted by Sparky 4:38 PM

Tuesday, February 26, 2002

These are the best of posts. These are the worst of posts.

There are many who would say that I have an opinion on everything. I number these among family, close friends... sometimes both. Yes, I am blessed with the ability to form an opinion, often on the barest minimum of data. There are those who would marvel at the "gift."

It has come time to "unveil" the secret of the opinion. What better place to hold such an auspicious event than Old Dad, the nearly world famous blog which has set some remarkable standards in its brief history, the most notable being least number of hits in a single month! So here it is - the secret of the opinion.

If you are a sailor, or navigator of any type, you are likely familiar with the term, "apparent wind." This is the direction the wind appears to be blowing. If the boat were traveling west at 5 knots in still air, the wind would appear to be out of the west at 5 knots. [Some sailors have difficulty with this concept, since this would require motoring - a cardinal sin amongst true sailors.] Setting the same course, but with the wind out of the north at 5 knots, the "apparent wind" would be out of the northwest at X knots. Those of you who can add vectors, go for it. The point is, apparent wind exists only in the experience of the sailor.

"C'mon, Old Dad. How about drifting back to the subject at hand?"

Patience. Each of us travels through the sea of life, so to speak, at different speeds and in different directions. We "experience" winds, currents, etc. as they appear from our vessel. Whether we are more or less aware of these forces, they impact our perceptions of "truth." Whether or not there is one real truth, several independent truths, or a network of interrelated truths, what we "see" are apparent truths, often called opinions.

Having buffeted [not to be confused with Buffeted for all you Parrot Heads out there] about on the sea of life these many years [another apparent concept], I have made as little progress as most at determining truths, but I have become adept at verbalizing my apparent truths - opinions.

Now those of you who muddled through geometry may vaguely recall the vocabulary of axioms, postulates, theorems and proofs. These refer to guessing what is true about a given situation. Then going about establishing whether of not it is true. The truth doesn't change. It is you that changes as you go through the steps of discovery. Ah, but here comes the good part! Sometimes you get the "wrong" answer! It is still true for you. You just proved it, but the data was wrong or your chose an errant step and voila - wrong truth. Until something changes, internally or externally, the position you have established is your truth. Whether you boldly raise your hand and volunteer to put your work on the blackboard, or meekly slouch in your seat, hoping someone else will get chosen, you have established the truth.

Life is geometry. There are a lot of angles to every situation. Sometimes you have all the data and still arrive at the wrong truth. Other times you have terribly insufficient information and come to a great conclusion. Opinions all. All are right, from the perspective and experience of the holder. Some choose to hide in their seats. Some doubt themselves and are always looking for more angles. I'll take my chances at the blackboard!

Oh yeah. One more thing. The Teacher whispers in my ear. Can't say as I am always sensitive to the gentle messages, but they are there. And, yeah, you can hear them too. Sometimes the Teacher speaks in tongues - yours... and mine. And sometimes, if you listen really closely, you will be amazed to hear truth flowing from your own lips.

And that's the truth, according to Old Dad.

posted by Sparky 2:46 PM

Friday, February 22, 2002

A percolation

I belong to a couple internet groups, one of which is prone to "percolations." That is where one member will post a quote, an idea, or a list of words, and others springboard into their own creative writing style, be it prose, poetry, whatever. Following is an example of one such "perc" and the poem it spawned. The perc, and the title, which I have added after the fact is:

> We climbed the depths of Olympus
> and gods old, new, ancient and young
> knew and cared nothing of our sacrifice
> only that we came empty handed.

The Gold in Years

This is to be our virgin year
no weights yet hung upon our necks
and yet with visions backed by heartfelt tones
we enter not to honor but depose.

Will they be ready, these gods old and young?
Their destiny from birth was cast to this.
To reign but brief, their transitory time
until at last to commentators go.

For what you ask would drive us onward so?
To scrap for scraps of metal as we do?
For just one moment, knowing we are gods
our graven images cast in Wheaties stone.

Five rings our vision since birth or before
we share this youthful commonality:
Of all those born within our sphere this age
to be a god, to stand tall and alone.

And what of those ensconced in lofty dreams
committing all and in their fleeting hour
fall short, concede to lesser heights
to wear the label "also ran?"

They too have visions fulfilled not today
few will return to take their deferred throne.
Post disappointment, most move on
to quests, to spawn, to raise up future gods.

As eyes mature and disappointment fades
their tunnel vision which has brought them here
flares out exposing newfound zones
where other gods compete for other gold.

Is there a message left here by the gods?
What does it say, when with abandon each
digs deep within for his one finest hour
to carry forth, to place him on his throne?

There is in each of us a god
and ample thrones to go around
should we but quest to find each who we are
gods are we all till commentators go.

What gold, you ask, is measure to this quest?
What possible reward merits such toil?
To wear the scrap "retired" with a smile.
The music? Grandkids' heartfelt tones!


Should you like to consider joining such a group, I would be delighted to introduce you as my guest, or allow you to lurk for a time, observing others creative efforts. Let me know: sclark@complus.net.

posted by Sparky 9:07 AM

Wednesday, February 13, 2002

Pop shared wisdom after all

When I was to be married, he took me aside for some father - son advice: “You are certainly a man,” he said, “but will never be man enough to handle more than one woman at a time. So make darned sure you are done with this one before you start up with another!”

The advice seemed silly at the time. I was, after all, about to make a permanent commitment. But as the years have passed, I have watched friend after friend “play around” with casual or not so casual interludes. They are all divorced now. Some remarried. Some of those divorced again.

Armed with this as yet latent wisdom, I wandered from time to time into the path of temptation - and each time I asked myself. “Is it over? Are you sure you are done with this relationship?" And each time the answer came back "NO!”

Still, from time to time, my mind has wondered what it would be like to be dating again, not as a teen but in my fifties. One evening I allowed my mind to wander off, remembering bits and pieces of my bachelor youth, extrapolated forward in time and imagining my awakening in another’s chamber. Come with me to that morning, listen carefully, and you may hear the “Silent Echoes.”

Silent Echoes

Pastels suggesting lilacs wrapped in stretchy lace -
you lie upon the floor where you awake.

But now I wonder if the day before
in fancy packaging you lounged
until my friend in anticipation
of last night did pick you out
to decorate her warmth?

Or did she stash you months ago
in hopes of needing you
she knew not when? And when I called
was drawn to search you out
in hopes the dining might lead to something more?

Or have you danced this floor show times before
and will again open
for audiences to me unknown?

Speak not!
For in your silence dwells
the secrets cherished in the mystery
that mind can never figure out
which leads a heart to want, and then to grow.

Last night was magical from moment one.
If there be mirrors, wires or the like-
Your silence grants me transitory truth:
Heaven captured me last night!
Till proven otherwise, tis so.

And in your silence rests your immortality.
Tho she and I may blend eternally
or ne’er again share tastes or smells.
Still… your echo permeates my soul.


Do thoughts like this one draw me closer to the edge? Is the day near when the crashing "NO!" may slip to "maybe" and on to "why not?" No. In fact, the opposite is true. While the mental interlude is not unlike a movie that entertains an hour or two. When I emerge into the light of now, the words that Pop shared so long ago resound, and on in love I go.
posted by Sparky 4:21 PM

Thursday, January 31, 2002

January Reflections

I was looking back over some of my earlier writings and found several that have yet to see weblight. Written over a 5 year period, I can hear the voice change form piece to piece (not in chronological order). So here we go:

God is Deaf

Pray.
We teach our young.
We beseech our old.
“Talk to God!”

What kind of impotent omnipotent do we personify
that would need my words to know my heart?

We live in constant Jeopardy.
The answers are within us

If only we could hear the questions.

Listen… be still… and Know.

Grandpas

The term “Grandpa” once spoken only with the utmost love and respect
for two gray haired, balding gentlemen whose wisdom washed freely over me –
Is a term I share – but briefly now as three others press in line.

Oh, for sure there is no clamoring – no restless troops conspiring overthrow.
They cannot even know how soon their turns will come.

When looking o’r the family tree, there are no “grandpas” in the midst.
Just stalwart folk who planted hopes and dreams
which grew and bloomed and went to seed again.

And having done my share of planting and born the pain of growing –
I find my pleasure in the seed… again.


if I were YOU
[this was written with center justification - which is beyond me for today]

advice
more appreciated by the donor than the done to
may be - maybe -
self-talk from the soul.

linear thought restrains our souls
marching ever forward
as though we knew where forward will be.

come play with me
for I am YOU
recycled if you will in time and space
returned to learn the lessons overlooked.


for I am YOU
at least in part
our eyes perceive no mirror as we pass
our spirits see - when we permit -
we are at once
both separate and the same.


Speeding up hill

"Over the hill" they say in jest
To those who find no humor.

The joke is on those who too late understand
That life is the fuel that powers spirits to new heights.

Time is ultimately relative and inversely proportional to life -
The more you value life, the faster time erodes.

The ultimate compression of time is death
When spirits swallow and embrace alternate dimensions.

"And where is God?"
God is.


Twixt Here and There

Somewhere…
was it Seventh Grade?
Upon us basic truth bestowed.

A straight line,
the shortest distance between two points!

Truth deceives us.
For buried in the “shortest” lies “the best”
implying quickest, most efficient, much preferred.

So it would be in space that had no time,
but forever bends the space twixt here and there.


Forever clouds our sighting “there”
so as we mark our straight and narrow course
we wander on in time as it appears.

The shortest distance over time is death.
Twixt here and there is life.

In the algebra of life -
“There” minus “twixt” equals nothing.


Grandpeople

I sit admiring pictures of my grandkids all
So neatly mounted on my office wall
And know my love for them is bottomless
Yet I get grumpy if they make a mess.

Time has stiffened more of me
Than ankle, finger, wrist and knee.
How fortunate the young adjust
Unfettered by a hardening crust.

One of the miracles born in love -
Grands and kids - like hand and glove.

Chiseled in the Mist
[This was written years ago about good friend that haven’t seen since college, who clearly sought my attention but I never dated. My loss.]

Is life too short to blow away a day?
To laugh at life and revel in the now?

Alas, I fear we teach our young too well
(since time gone by eluded us somehow)
that they must strive, excel and grow so fast
their tender time a victim - mostly missed.

And from the mist that was our tender time
comes images of that which almost was.
Of quests... of loves... of springtime breezes fresh
with steel bonds, time melted and are gone.

Is life too short to blow away a day?
Here comes one - have I forgotten how?

This morning on the way to work
as poets bantered on the radio
I realized it had been near a year
since I wrote a poem from the heart.

This was a fine year in many ways.
My “accomplishments” could fill volumes
if somewhere there were motivation
to capture them in that way.

But where are the volumes which represent my growth?
No, not forgotten. Just gently set aside.

So here in this moment I steal away
from that which time and place dictate I do.
To wander backward in the mist
extending heart in hopes to touch again.

If history is, as some will say,
our choice of memories from the past-
then you are history my dear
a pristine visage, chiseled in the mist.

Is life too short to blow away a day?
Will there be life again before I die?
If so, is not today the day?
If not, from whence will future memories come?


Wax Philosophical

When I was somewhere six to eight
My grandpa would deliberate
with his weather eye in focus
(or maybe it was hocus-pocus)
teaching how to wax a ski
as though an expert I would be.

Now days those who slide on snow
Forget ski wax of long ago.


“Congoleum should shine,” she said.
Words my siblings came to dread
As kind sweet mother in her haste
With stripper, bucket, rags and paste
Scurried us outside the door
as she prepared to wax the floor.

Today’s floors come with built in gleam
No longer buffed with self-esteem.


The smell of Simonize was sad
Because it meant we’d lost our dad
at least for most of Saturday
when we had hoped he’d time to play
which of course he planned to do
when auto polishing was through.

Auto wash with waxy sprays
replaced to sweat of Saturdays.


Technology dealt blows to wax
like buggy whips and carpet tacks
leaving time for you and me
to ponder on philosophy -
To lead our idle minds in thought
Of what we need and what we ought.

Saved by television in a wink
we stare without the need to think.


First Kiss

I can’t really say when I fell in love with her. Sometimes I can recall the first time I saw her… sitting by a camp fire at my very first function. But then again, I don’t think I remember seeing her at all that night. I know I saw her because she recalls it so vividly that I can close my eyes and see it. But I was really a mess that weekend, having just driven from New Jersey to Ohio - half floating, half asleep on at the wheel.

But I can’t forget the first time I kissed her! It was New Year's Eve! How romantic, right? Wrong. I went alone to the New Year's Eve party. Hey, I was young, just out of college, on top of the world - I was somebody! Did I want a date? Well, yeah. But I hadn’t met anyone I wanted to date. Not at least that I can recall. Oh, I remember the girl I had spotted at the burger king. She filled her uniform very well. I do believe that’s how I spotted her. I never spoke to her and never really wanted to. Well that’s a lie. I wasn’t ever very good at meeting girls, probably because my hormones worked a whole lot better than my tongue.

But let’s get back to the kiss. Nancy was separated. She had two beautiful boys, 2 and 4 months. Her husband was an Assistant Scoutmaster. I didn’t know why he was because he had no kids in scouting. I guessed it was because his friend Fred was the Scoutmaster. Or maybe it was because he loved camping. Anyway, I had been over to their house a couple times before they separated and knew they weren’t getting along that well. It wasn’t till New Year's Eve that I learned they were divorcing. I didn’t know why… and didn’t want to.

Anyway, going alone to a New Year's Eve party was OK for a while. Then I started drinking. At mid-night I kissed a few people (I think). Just social stuff. As the party was winding down, Nancy was there and I was there and I wanted to walk her home - what, maybe half a block. Before we even left the party we were at her door. She invited me in. OK. The baby sitter went home - maybe she walked him(?) home. Maybe I did. Somehow we ended up sitting on her couch.

We weren’t there too long when her not yet ex-husband showed up at the door. He sounded drunk (like I would have known). She didn’t want to answer so we slid down on the floor where he couldn’t see us. Eventually he went away. We spent some time together on the floor. Now even my mind is jumping ahead.

It was wonderful! We talked, about what I don't recall . We kissed, I know! We cuddled. I went home. You were expecting maybe something racier? Hey, I was Boy Scout, remember? This was pretty scandalous for 1969… and pretty fantastic!

In August we married. August 23rd, 1969. It was one of the proudest days of my life - that almost didn’t happen. But that’s another story.

Well, there they are. In reviewing, I deleted one, not because I don't like it, but because it is a whimsical fiction piece and didn't seem to fit today. Maybe next month!

posted by Sparky 3:32 PM

Friday, January 04, 2002

It was a very good year

When Frank Sinatra sang about his life "... as vintage wine from fine old mellow kegs," he was measuring his life against his relationships. I remember thinking years ago, "There is so much more to life than this. How can he overlook all that's happening in the world, nationally, or locally for that matter?"

Well, let's take a look at 2001:

Randy has established himself in a fine career path in Neuromuscular Pain Management. What with his clients and his seminars, his time is much in demand. And he moved a mile down the road from us! OK. He moved first, but we now live close together and get to see each other a lot more. This is his first real apartment - very nice. In fact, one of his friends said he either was gay or his mother decorated the place. I guess that's a complement! He won the double crown - both the traditional Thanksgiving and Christmas Golf Classics fought out each year by the Menozzi and Clark clans. But don't think there is any family loyalty here - it is each duffer for himself! [And then there was the blind date....]

Bob and family are doing well. Bob, of course, is consumed by his CIO duties at JSA Healthcare, but not too busy to take flying lessons. I had the privilege of going along on one of his lessons. One is the operative number. But Bob is in seventh heaven. Meanwhile, the rest of his family has not been sitting idly by.

Mari has turned their nice country home into a showplace! I didn't know she was a artist, but everywhere you look, are creative touches - from the horse on the fence by the horseshoe court to the brick around the pool, everything is tastefully and uniquely put together. She has the Home & Garden touch. (Well, I'm not totally sure about the chicken on the diving board.)

Ahmy has continued in college and become a manager at Denny’s... and is a mere shadow of his former self. Oh, he is still in the 6'6"+ category, but has dropped about 100 pounds, and has been seen in the company of a delightful person of the feminine persuasion - Ty. I wonder if the two are connected? He is still the biggest one in the family, but not by much.

Adam is catching up fast. He has cleared 6'4" and is more than a bit proud of his new blue Mustang. Well, it's new to him but about as old as Bob. They make a classic pair. But then, Adam and Lindsey make a classic pair too. Could there be a love triangle developing?

Speaking of developing, Maritza is still months from her 13th birthday, but surely doesn't look like it. "Stunning" is the word Nancy uses. I'm sure the boys at Adams Middle School have their own vocabulary. Fortunately, she shows little interest in taking on a boyfriend. (Fortunate especially for Bob who may be adding a shotgun to his collection of toys. It may not be electronic like his other toys, but it has certain communication value.) Maritza is into cheerleading. And what a competition we went to - teams and teams - hundreds of girls for 6 to 16, with a sound system that broke twice... stalling the program for over an hour. And speaking of stalls, only one ladies room! This miracle of an event was second only to the one with the seven fishes.


Russ' family has also been busy. Dr. Russ is knee deep in grant proposals as his return to part-time teaching a Georgia Tech is evolving into computer research. As busy as he is becoming, he still found plenty of time for the kids and several weeks to spend on "Shaman." Most of this year's sailing has been of the day-sail nature with one trip to Sarasota. Now he is playing tweak the teak, a sport appreciated by seasoned sailors.

If you can be a soccer mom when none of the kids play soccer, than Karen is one. Now that there are three youngin's, she has discovered more directions to be pulled in. But she is still keeping her taxing job - preparing tax returns in season... which starts even as we speak.

Anna is a champion! Her softball team went all the way. The chatter from these 7 year olds was incessant! But they also hit the ball well. I had the privilege of watching her grow as a ball player. But she is many talented, as she continues with her dance endeavors and, of course, school.

Sydney is fast emerging from Anna's shadow. She too dances and plays softball - but because she wants to. Her age group doesn't keep score, but the intensity is still there. Both she and Anna have hidden talents that are being drawn out by the Karaoke machine they got for Christmas. Sydney is emerging in her rightful role as the middle child.

What can I say about David? To quote David - "Unh." He hasn't much of a vocabulary, but manages to use this one sound to get everything he wants. He walks! And walks... and walks some more. Nothing is safe. Randy is teaching him to play soccer, but he shows an early preference for throwing.

And as for Nancy, she did it! She resigned from Concorde Career Institute... again... sort of. In 2000 she resigned, only to accept another full time position. This time, she left to start her own business teaching CPR and other health related courses at adult living facilities and other health based settings. Well, so far Concorde is her most frequent customer, but plans are in the works to decrease their dependency on her. She has discovered there is still life out here - out from under the Concorde Cloud.

And finally, as for me, I am the lucky one. I have had the wonderful opportunity to observe and occasionally play a part in each of these sagas. I have no trouble looking back and agreeing with Frank, "... from the brim to the dregs, it was a very good year!"






posted by Sparky 3:22 PM

Thursday, December 06, 2001

All I want for Christmas...

I remember Christmas morning. Ward and I would wait at the top of the as yet unfinished staircase - waiting for the signal that it was OK to come down. We knew that it was "stockings only" before breakfast. Funny, I don't remember much about breakfast. Then we would attack the tree, tearing through in minutes what must have been many nights of maticulous wrapping. Toward the end of this ritual, Mom would slowly open the gifts Ward and I had bought at Aunt Helen's Gift Studio next door. She was always so surprised and equally pleased with the gifts we each had selected. [It would be many years before I would learn she had picked them out before Aunt Helen let us select them.]

"Equal" was important to her. We always had the same number of presents, Ward and I. If we didn't get exactly the same thing, there were comparable presents that cost about the same and were of relatively equal importance in our lives....


And so the day began... one year about the same as any other.

But all too soon, the pronouncement would come. "Time to get ready to go to the lake." The lake, of course, meant Grandma and Grandpa Ward's place on Canandaigua Lake. In the summertime we would go there at least one day every weekend. But after Labor Day, the trips would be less frequent. We still loved to go. Chances were always good that one or more sets of cousins would be there, and for sure, we would find Aunt Barb.

Aunt Barb. Clearly the caboose, she was several years younger than her two sisters and brother. Having never married, she lived in a succession of modest apartments, supported by coloring pictures. Remember when portraits were taken in cepia tones, later to be covered with light to heavy oils? Aunt Barb. Like clockwork, Friday night found her on the road to the lake, and to her apartment over the breezeway. Whether she was making crafts, reading magazines, or watching old movies on TV, she would drop what she was doing, or better yet, invite us to join her. She probably wasn't a very happy person overall, but she always made us happy to see her.

One year she took Ward and I to the studio where she worked to have our picture taken. Was I disappointed when the pictures appeared at Christmas! Where was the split rail fence the photographer talked about, and where was my cowboy hat, boots and stuff. I was totally convinced Ward and I would be cowboys in the picture. Other than that, the pictures were excellent - all sizes -hand colored with a ton of skill and even more love. That picture would be around today if Mom were.

Anyway, back to the ritual. Aunt Barb always had the most beautiful packages. With every edge was crisply creased, each package was secured with a hand-made bow, each prettier than the last. Family would carefully unwrap her gifts and save the wrappings to use the next year, No lie. She could flat make any scarf or shirt look special. The last couple weeks before Christmas, Aunt Barb's bedroom was off limits to us kids, making the wait even harder. She would still come out and play with us, but "The door stays shut!"

Before the Thruway was built, we always went through Victorand on to downtown Canandaiguabefore turning onto West Lake Road. I guess the back of the car was loaded with stuff, but I don't know how it got there. It wasn't for me anyway. The trip was probably beautiful that time of year, but Ward and I would not notice, each playing with one of our presents (probably select by Mom for this occasion). But when we turned down the lane, all eyes would be straining, looking for familiar cars in "No Man's Land," seeing if we were the first to arrive. Dad (who would come to be called "Pop" in later years) would drive us up as close as possible for unloading, before positioning his Chevy (it was always a Chevy) out of the way but where he could get out when we were ready to go. There were to be lots of cars. Always lots of cars.

When we arrived at the lake, the house would already smell of Christmas. Grandma had been cooking since early morning. Whichever of my Aunts that arrived ahead of us would be in the kitchen "pitching in." The men would gather to set up the Dunkin Fife table with all the leaves, as well as a mishmash of card tables and other flat furniture to accomodate 20 - 30 of us, depending on the year. Then they would be ordered to disappear by the kitchen commander.

Aunt Barb's gifts would already be under the tree when we arrived. To be sure, there would be others, but there was no mistaking hers. Grandma and Grandpa were inclined to give money. I don't recall how much. It probably varied by year, but never by family. Everyone was treated the same.

On arrival, each family would add to the growing pile of presents. In later years, families would draw names, but Aunt Barb never drew. She would have something for everybody. I don't recall any of the gifts I received at the lake over the years... at least none that I recognized as gifts at the time - like the smell of Christmas, the oyster dressing, and the chaotic ritual that was family.

Either Uncle Erwin or Aunt Barb would "play Santa." Grandma and Grandpa would sit in "their chairs" as gifts were each delivered, opened one at a time (for what seemed like hours), and passed around for everyone to see. I never understood how Grandma and Grandpa could look so happy just watching grown kids, grandkids and a smattering of others open presents.

Sometime after dinner, the pronouncement would echo up thestairs, "Last call for the Clark bus!" The lights along West Lake Road would be especially bright and beautiful. The rest is less clear. There was nothing quite like sleeping in the Chevy on Christmas Night.

So, anticipating Christmas, 2001, I have been working on my Christmas List:

good health for those I love
the joy of Christmas in their eyes

I sure hope I get everything on my list!
posted by Sparky 2:24 PM

Thursday, November 29, 2001

Time!

For someone who is as yet unconvinced that time is linear, it would seem contradictory to plead that I don't have enough time to create a decent blog entry. Forturately, since things are seldom as they appear, "seem" doesn't matter.

The golf tournament went great.

Kettle season is well underway.

I gotta go... again!
posted by Sparky 3:57 PM

Thursday, October 25, 2001

You just don't get it!

Quick note:

Did you notice the recent acknowledgement of the "formidable opponent?" Yes, that could have been Tony Dungy and more coach speak after losing yet another win-able game. But no - that quote was Rumsfeld/Powell. You know, the two headed voice for "Truth... Justice... and the American Way." Now don't get me wrong. I have a flag on the porch and I am greatly concerned for those affected, infected and afflicted. I just don't see rhetoric and bombs as the best way to counteract terrorism (although they have had a devastating effect on tourism!).

Now to the real stuff:

I love you!

Wait a minute. How can you say you love me? You don't even know who is reading this! Don't just throw the "I love you" stuff around. It's people like you that strip the true meaning from those precious words!

Oh, really? First of all, I have a pretty good idea who reads my blog. And I am incredibly lax in verbalizing with close family, and almost never with friends, but in fact, I love you all. Each is special.

But let's suppose for a moment that you are totally unknown to me - a surfer who happened upon Old Dad. WELCOME. Send me an email at sclark@complus.net.

Somebody once said, "Love one another." At least that is a loose translation. I don't think he meant love your family, or love your friends, or even love the people you know. Those seem like the easy ones. I have never seen a translation that says "Love the easy ones" or "Love those who love you back."

Now those of you who know me, know that I am not sold on this time being linear thing. Nor would I be one to jump all over you if you were to say that we are one, or that we are all part of the same spirit. If that were so, then to love you would be to love myself, and visa versa. Works for me!

Wait a minute! Your are getting altogether too serious and philosophical for the Old Dad I know!

Not to worry. This to shall pass! If you take life seriously, you just don't get it!

posted by Sparky 3:51 PM

Tuesday, October 16, 2001

Stealth Bomber vs. Anthrax

Think about it. We hit them where it hurts. They hit us where it hurts.

The question isn't "Who is winning?"

The question is, "Who is losing less?"

At the moment, I'd say advantage them.
posted by Sparky 5:05 PM

Wednesday, October 03, 2001

Just when you thought is was safe to buy Super Bowl tickets...

Like the Bucs of old, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.

Now if you listen to the same old "coach-speak" you will soon discover that "we played a great game but under performed on a few key plays."

WRONG! The play calling stinks. Offensively... defensively... special teams... cheerleaders - it doesn't matter. Don't take any chances. Play conservatively - boring - and BAD JUDGEMENT. Now the 50-yard play that set up the winning touchdown for the Vikings was a fluke. We had triple coverage. We beat him to the ball. It was an unlucky bounce that fell in his hands. OK. No crying here.

But with a minute to go, what call would you call? Could it be, THE SAME QUARTERBACK SNEAK THAT BEAT US LAST YEAR!?! DAH. I can hear the Vikings coach on the sideline. "Our only decent running back is injured. The field is too small down here near the goal line to spring a receiver free. Dante has great feet. Let's Sneak. Yeah, that's it! A quarterback sneak. We'll catch 'em off guard!"

'It's only football," I can hear you saying.

Not so. Football may be interesting to watch, but it is still business... not unlike yours and mine. We gather resources, manipulate them, and produce a product or service. Some, like the Bucs, are exquisite at gathering resources, only to produce an inconsistent product. You likely and I surely do not have the resources, nor are there millions of people watching, but we can produce the best possible product with the resources at our disposal, resources including our developed skills and natural talents.

"You don't understand, old man. Football doesn't emulate real life. It is 60 minutes, once a week for 16 weeks. There has to be a winner and a loser. Nothing is produced. No service is provided. It's just a game... you know, entertainment."

Oh, really? Let's go down to the stadium this Sunday and be entertained as Bucs play a game with the Packers. Um, where do you suppose we get tickets? We can put down a deposit (non-interest bearing) and maybe in a few years we will have a shot at buying season tickets. Then we can look forward to hunting a parking place for $15 or more. Of course, we will want to wear appropriate hats, shirts, jackets, etc., all of which have registered logos. And don't forget the beer and the nachos. It's all business.

"You forget, I can watch for free on television."

Free? What television? The $2000 entertainment machine you bought so you could get a bigger, better picture of your free entertainment? And just how much are advertisers willing to pay so that you can watch for free? Millions? I think so... because you are going to go buy their products (which incidentally have the cost of advertising built into the retail pricing structure).

"So, what is your point? If football is such a driving force in the economy and everybody is making money, what is all the fuss over?"

Well, not everybody makes the money, but that's not even the point. We are subliminally saying, repetitively to millions, that mediocre performance is OK. That if you do well most of the time, we’ll be understanding when you do produce a half-ass product. It’s acceptable to produce a few shoddy tires that blow out and kill people, as long as most of them are well built. It’s fine to sell furniture with termites, as long as most of the product is termite free. It’s OK if only a little potato salad is rancid, as long as the tuna and the three bean are edible. We are educating ourselves to accept... even to deliver... inconsistent quality.

"While you are ranting on about the Bucs, maybe you should take a better look at yourself. Perhaps you are getting away with producing inconstant work."

I know.

posted by Sparky 8:54 AM

Tuesday, September 25, 2001

When does the war start, Daddy?

9-11-01 is a day for the record books. Of course, there will be many record books with many interpretations of what happened and why. History, as you will recall, is "... what we choose to remember about the past." In case you missed any of the events of the day, they reran continuously for over a week - first on every channel - then only on the news channels - finally in summary form.

Did you notice that the event was almost instantly named "Attack on America." The television clan of the media family led the way. As time lapsed, the story grew it's own breadth. The side-band stories began to appear. For example, if you are a channel surfer, you may have seen 50 different interviews with health care professionals commenting on the lack of injured - yet we had the largest one-week blood drive in the history of the world. [Where is all that blood anyway?]

You saw President Bush acclaimed for his decisive leadership in this time of crisis. [You know, the guy who sneaked into the White House amidst cries of "foul," some of which were of substance.] He gave what may be the second best speech by a sitting president to date. I have saved room for President Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. Parts of President Kennedy's Inaugural Address were magnificent - nearly perfect sound bites in content, presentation and impact, but the overall speech doesn't hold up. Bush's speech was written masterfully. Not only did it reach his constituency - it is by and large translatable without much room for misinterpretation. The presentation itself would have garnered a B+ in a freshman speech class. On several occasions he milked the applause. His facial expressions were almost in sync with the content - much better than he had done to date. The tie was perfect. Over all, this may have been his finest hour.

But what about the war? The NFL is back in action after a week's "vacation,” the cost of which is already higher than the total amount donated by the American people - and still rising. The "fall season" may not suffer the delay, since "we" are staying home in droves - empty malls, empty hotels, empty airlines and empty restaurants. Instant layoffs hit several industries. The "market" did not panic last week. It responded to the real fact that the economy is worth substantially less than it was two weeks ago in the collective minds of consumers. Once again, perception is reality.

BUT WHAT ABOUT THE WAR? The war has been brewing since WWII. It is an economic war - a competition for wealth and power, which are pretty much interchangeable. It is not unlike a bunch of neighborhood kids who build teams and alliances based on current needs, only to change teams whenever the situation suggests. It looked for a while like the Japanese had it together. They found a way to compete head to head in a variety of world markets. But over the long haul, it seems to be the oil interests who have sustained wealth/power, and it is an oil interest financed strike that smites the US economy yet another time. [Have we forgotten the oil shortage during the Nixon era? Or the numerous artificially induced spikes in oil process that cost every sector of our existence?]

This week, the administration has publicly acknowledged the economic war with a financial retaliation, be it little and late. But the good news is that we have finally seen the enemy who has been sniping at us for decades.

We have flexed our military muscle once again, but this time with the perspective that the flexing - which creates jobs - is probably more valuable than any strike by the military machine.

I believe it was John Paul Jones who first said, “We have not yet begun to fight!” Maybe it was Patrick Henry. Somebody help me out. Anyway, this week President Bush said it again - not so succinctly but clearly. The gist is, "We will immasculate you economically." The first time, it was a turning point in a war. Let’s hope history repeats itself.

The fronts are obscure to the untrained eye, but the war escalates nonetheless. When does the war start? Its been with us for a long time.

Note: There is no intent here to diminish the loss of lives and property. They were tragic and apparently senseless casualties of war. Let us hope there are no similar acts ahead. But we can do more than hope - we can learn to play the game. We just decided to play - and we will play to win!



posted by Sparky 11:59 AM

Monday, September 24, 2001

One very important non-event!

We just returned from a whirlwind weekend surrounding David's first birthday. [The nearly 1100 miles was much more pleasant with co-pilot Randy to share the miles and miles of miles and miles.] Chances are, if you are reading this Blog, you weren't there. You missed two dynamite softball games. Sydney's team (girls 6 and under) was a trip. Russ volunteered to coach third base. After one inning, the coach replaced him with a more experienced coach (probably 12 years old). Russ took it well. [In fairness, holding Sydney up at third when she could have scored made little difference in the scope of life!]

Anna's team (girls 7-8) was clearly more experienced. Although this age group doesn't keep score, they count strikes and outs. Anna got two hits and a sacrifice! But the real difference between these teams was the chatter. This team never shut up. They had special dugout cheers as well as the more traditional "swing batter" banter we all know and love.

David stood up very well under the pressure. First, he woke up to two sets of grandparents competing for his attention, all of whom were upstaged by Uncle Randy teaching him how to play soccer - both standing and sitting! Then he endured not one but two baseball games with not even a whimper. Finally, at his crankiest time of day, the house filled up with about a zillion kids and their parents. The parents played pass the baby while the kids ran everywhere (and Russ' place has a lot of wheres). With exhaustion approaching, David was finally allowed to attack the mountain of packages - which, with the help of many willing fingers, were flashed before his eyes and whisked away to make way for the next toy he couldn't focus on. FINALLY, David was perched in his highchair and presented with the traditional cake. He managed many hands full of frosting and several precocious poses before declaring the event adjourned.

So, from this narrative, you are thinking, "He is pretty negative on this birthday party thing!" Not so fast oh great conclusion jumper! O contraire! There is nothing more worthwhile than being a part of family traditions, especially the ones that sound frivolous on paper... for the value is not in the substance, but in the sharing. Any reason, or lack thereof, that causes family and friends to get together, is a better reason than most of us have for most of what we do with the rest of our lives.

If you missed the party, then you missed "What is it, Lassie?"... and you missed Russ trying to turn the train off... and you missed the world's finest carved watermelon fruit basket... and you missed the tying of shoes together. You missed the burnt-burgers and the ice cream that thought is was a rock. You missed the great ping-pong challenge and the "things in the hair-a-thon." You missed a room full of family cheering on the quasi first step (recognizable only to a grandparent).

If you missed it, there is good news. The next excuse for a non-event is already in the making. You'll recognize it. It’s the gathering that you don't really want to go to and wouldn't have missed it for the world. I'll see you there!



posted by Sparky 4:58 PM

Friday, September 07, 2001

Passages

New experiences abound! Sometimes, its time to sample. Lately, we've been gorging!

Discovery Cove

Months ago we made the reservation to go swim with the dolphins. Tres fris. [Has little to do with three french fries, but there is a connection.] Dixie is our new dolphin friend. She's 28 and retired from a performing career at Sea World Florida. I would link you to a picture, but my brother hasn't posted it yet!

The first thing you notice on arrival - other than the gorgeous folliage - is the parking. No lot people pointing you around in the traditional theme park lot parade. No tram to drop you closer but not near the entrance. Just park where you want to and walk up to the huge double doors which you open yourself. Once inside you walk up to one of several couters (no waiting) where the host finds you in the computer and takes your picture for your ID pass. The pass is encoded so you can charge to your credit card - eliminating any need to cart money around with you.

That's it! On a theme park scale of 1-10 it is a solid 8.5 (which is as high as it goes without free passes). I don't want to spoil the day for those still planning to go. If you want to know more about the dolphins, rays, tropical reef, fresh water river, tropical birds, exotic plants or gormet food, email me.

Final Touch Finale

Our houseboat and home for the past three years, Final Touch, has been sold! Yes, believe it! By Sunday, we will be totally out. She has been a great experience, and a facilitator of things to come. Will we miss her? Sure. But it was the right choice, once again.

"So where will you go?" you ask.

We are retiring to a senior (over 55) mobile home park.

"What!?! You? A mobile home park?"

We absolutely fell into a fantastic situation. Here in Pinellas there is one mobile home community on the gulf beaches - Parsley's on the Gulf. The unit we bought is a little smaller than our houseboat - which is going in the right direction. We plan to live aboard a sailboat one day. This will help us further shed unneeded stuff. But more importantly, it was virtually free! Come January (with a little interim work) we will be able to double our investment, as these units on the beach sell very well in season.

Retirement?

Well, sort of. This move also creates the window of opportunity for Nancy to move on from her current suppressor... er... supervisor and start her own small business. We have talked about it for months. Today we move forward!

So, you see, this is a time of passages. Both energizing and intimidating, these combined changes chart a new course for us! So, rather than speculate on the future, we are heading out to create it! Come on! Let's get moving!




posted by Sparky 4:33 PM

Wednesday, August 22, 2001

On Happiness

I stumbled upon the following quote:

“It is pretty hard to tell what does bring happiness; poverty and wealth have both failed.” - Kin Hubbard

This begs the question... you know... so here it is:

Happiness is hereditary. You are born with it. It’s just that, over time, it can get obscured by all that “important stuff.” Left unutilized, it withers.

Eventually, most of us sense a lack of happiness and set out on safari - searching through the wilds of hobbies, relationships, career paths - occasionally catching a glimpse of a what appears to be happiness. Some veteran hunters stumble onto the path of internal exploration, but still it eludes them.

Happiness is too simple to be grasped by the complicated mind. The act of looking precludes finding. Loosen the shroud of “important stuff” and happiness bursts forth.

And so, my wish for today is:

May you allow happiness to overwhelm your human condition.



posted by Sparky 11:55 AM

Friday, August 10, 2001

Jelly Beans & Christmas Trees

Things were different in the 50's.

Every winter, Troop 209 would sell Christmas Trees. The first year I had no idea where the trees came from. But the following fall, I remember going with some of the guys to a farm where we cut trees and hauled them to the location where the farmer tied them up with a twine machine - the forerunner of the mesh that smushes trees for shipping today. Then, a few weeks before Christmas, an old Army tent would spring up across the street from the church where we met. This was the signal that the tree sale was upon us.

We didn't really have shoppers. People came to buy trees. I remember one year, we had a terribly shaped tree, so one of the now anonymous adults cut off the branches to sell as sprigs - always a hot item. Well, we thought it was a hysterical idea to put the bare trunk out for sale. We called it the beatnik tree. Dobbie Gillis was a hot TV program, and we could picture Maynard G. Crebbs stopping by our lot and falling in love with this tree. Christmas week, somebody bought it! I wish I would have been on duty that day!

Selling Christmas trees was COLD, COLD fun!

Then, about a month before Easter, we would take order sheets around the neighborhood to presell jellybeans. The weekend before Easter, we would all gather at our troop meeting room in the church basement to bag the beans. That's right, we bought them in bulk and bagged them ourselves. In earlier years, we tied the bags closed. Later on we bought a heat sealer. Then we had a week to deliver the beans. Today, of course, no one would buy boy packed beans.

I was just in the men's room. With your eyes closed, you would have thought you were in that church basement the week before Easter. I could imagine the tables covered with bags of jellybeans. My mouth watered for just one of the red ones - they were the best. It was a special moment... call it a flashback flush. [I didn't eat anything.]

posted by Sparky 2:36 PM

Thursday, August 09, 2001

Stay Tuned

I just got off the phone with the service manager [see yesterday's blog]. To be fair, he did call back last night a 7:00. Since E.J. (my service writer) said I would be called before they closed at 6:00 and because we had been using my cell phone, it never occurred to me I should be sitting by my home phone at 7:00. At least he called. So, to make a long story medium, I have a appointment to meet with the service manager and his "sound guy" at 9:00 next Tuesday. That’s better than I expected. Stay Tuned!

Speaking of tunes, I awoke yesterday to a remake of Roger Miller's "Little Green Apples." This guy (not the sound guy) had a good voice and a slower rendition - a totally fresh song. So I went through a recap of Roger Miller favorites as I went through my morning ritual. [Morning ritual details available if you are into that kind of thing.] Remembering Roger Miller brought back visuals of a happy time, rug rats and all.

Rant Warning!

After nearly three weeks, I received back from the printer the proof of a brochure. Misspelled words - 4 different type styles - added text - a total rework. Awful. Because of our relationship with the printer, I will have to handle this diplomatically. Arrr! [End of rant. You may now return to your previous condition.] After considerable consternation, I eliminated any reference to "normal condition," as that may be asking too much of some of my readers. You know who you are.

Some weeks or months ago, someone on Ward Lane asked a bunch of questions, including: Storms - cool or scary? Last night Nancy and I strolled out to the sea wall and watched an electrical storm out over Tampa Bay. Way cool!

Lunchtime endeth. Arrr!

posted by Sparky 1:09 PM

Wednesday, August 08, 2001

The Sign of the Dolphin

Yesterday was incredible! Dolphin everywhere - swimming so close that you literally had to hang over the side to see them! For maybe 15 minutes these ballerinas of the sea encircled the Clark family as silently Shaman drifted across Tampa Bay. You shudda oughta been there. I shudda oughta been there! Don’t you hate it when life happens, just at the wrong time!

But life wasn't so bad yesterday. I passed my captain's tests! Yea!! My status has changed from captain wannabe to captain soontobe. The Coast Guard office in Miami will be issuing my license any day (two weeks - two months).

Although Nancy and I missed out on the dolphin experience yesterday, we have one scheduled for our anniversary. On August 25th, we will be easing ourselves into the "sea" at Discovery Cove to swim with the dolphins!

It is always a trip when the Atlanta Clarks find their way to St. Pete. David, at 10 months, wants to walk. He will grab your fingers, pull himself up, and take off. Now, don't try to hold on to him. He will do the holding, thank you. He is quick to tell you if you mess up your part. He can also throw a ball with reasonable accuracy.

Intense in Tents II

Friday was Russ' and Karen's anniversary. We got the kids! I do believe our evening with them was better than the dinner and movie, but, oh well. We made big plans. After Russ and Karen picked up David (who isn't quite ready for the overnight thing) we got busy. The coffee table had to go to make room for the pop-up tent we erected in the salon (no, not saloon). In went the sleeping bags and on went the "Blues Clues Sleep-Over" video! The next thing I knew, it was 7 a.m. and there were two extra munchkins in bed with us! (They slept in the tent, but couldn't resist a little early morning bouncing and tickling!) Then, back to the tent where they dined on a breakfast of Fruit Loops. What a life!

Odds & Ends

We did go sailing on Saturday and saw a few dolphins. It looked at first like we would get dumped on, but it turned into a great sailing day. While Nancy was at the helm, we hit 7.6 knots - a new record! She was flying high!

Last night a near record crowd packed the Tropicana Dome as the Yankees took on our Tampa Bay Devil Rays. It was a somber sight to see the throng exiting. It seems the Rays won. The saddest part is that the Yankees draw more fans than the Rays!

Speaking of sad, Tony Dungy should shut down training camp immediately. Every day brings another injury. It seems the Bucs will not have to cut down to 53 this year. We are instead utilizing natural selection. This was supposed to be a Super Bowl year!

[As we speak, I am on hold - you'll see.] The air conditioning in the Sebring quit blowing cold. Fortunately (I thought), it is still under warrantee. Sooo, I set an appointment for Monday. "Might be ready today," they said. Yeah, right. I just got back from picking it up [It is now Wednesday afternoon]. It blows really cold, but the AM radio barely works. The FM is fine and, if you turn it all the way up, you can hear the AM stations through the static. I figure there is something wrong with the antenna, so I turned around and went back. When I got the service writer to call the guy who worked on the car, he said it is fine. With some coaxing, he got in and started up the car. The FM worked fine - the AM not at all (inside garage). "Needs a tuner." The service writer concurred. "The antenna has to be fine or the FM wouldn't work. You need a tuner. We didn't break it." [No longer on hold, I was once cut off and once transferred to voice mail.] "I'll have the service manager call you. He's in a meeting." That was two hours ago. While sitting fuming in my office, I called two stereo shops. In each case, I indicated the problem, but said, "the AM suddenly deteriorated." One said that it sounds like a bad antenna. The other said he would start by hooking up another antenna, as that is most likely the problem. So what do you think? Will he call before he runs my check to the bank? I don't think I'll wait it out. Time to dial again.... Stay tuned!

posted by Sparky 4:21 PM

Tuesday, July 31, 2001

Intense in Tents

How could I read of Wendy's brave camping experience(July 29th entry), and not think back to backyards long ago?

I was a member of the Fox Patrol, but the troop wasn't going camping, so Tommy Rogers and I cooked up an excuse to camp out in his back yard. We consumed most of the afternoon pitching the tent and gathering the necessary supplies - you know, sleeping bags, flashlights, cookies, drinks, more cookies - and the most important item - my portable radio! Then we went home for supper. After all, this wasn't a cook-out!

We gathered, all two of us, about 7:00 pm - before the bugs came out. After playing a little catch and getting rid of his little brother, Tommy and I retired to our tent to rough it for the night. But this was no ordinary night! If you have seen the made for TV movie, "1961" then you can begin to share the excitement. It was actually 1958, but the Yankees were a similar, exciting lot. And tonight the game would be on the radio. With no one to tell us to "shut it off at 9 o'clock," we settled in, cookies in hand, prepared to consume the whole game! Icons even then, names like Whitey, Moose, Cletus and of course Roger and Mickey caromed around the tent, adding to the excitement of just being out there. I fell asleep somewhere along about the 8th inning. The Yankees won. There was really no need in recalling the falling asleep part when I bragged to my friends about the campout with the Yankees!

Oh, there are other stories. I may come back to them. But the toughest camping lesson had to do with camping in the snow. How come I would freeze, and our leaders would pop out in the morning, apparently toasty warm? So, what was their secret? Sleep naked! At first I was a non-believer, but when I actually gave in and tried their advice, it worked! At night I would climb into my sleeping bag wearing DRY clothes, and shed them all. The underwear goes to the bottom of the bag. The outerwear goes between the sleeping bag and the air mattress. (No belts or stuff in the pockets.) The bag absorbs all the moisture, not unlike Huggies do for babies. Well, somewhat unlike. Don't pee in the bag. I slept warm, and woke up to warm dry clothes, which were donned before crawling out in the morning.

Now as I got older - much older, I learned of other techniques involving pooling body heat. But zipping sleeping bags together can lead to problems far bigger than a little chill, especially if you combine the techniques. This works best if you have a mutual understanding of the purpose of so cohabitating. Otherwise, it can still get pretty cold in there. Remember, bears hibernate in the cold, but manage to wake up with cubs!

And speaking of the Cubs, there goes Fred McGrif. He was having a great season with the Rays, but I can't blame him for accepting the offer. Who wants to play ball, possibly his final season, in the middle of a fire sale?

And speaking of sales, Stein Mart had 50% off their Keeler Bay shirts (and other stuff) Saturday. I did well!

Well, time to go. Blog on dudes and dudettes!

posted by Sparky 11:17 AM

Following are two poems written by lighthouses. I was blessed to be their medium of expression

Revisiting

My Purpose is in Your Passing

I know not from whence you came
and though your destination near,
I go not with you.

I am here to ease your burden...
to offer stability as you mark your final course.

Though many pass, I stand alone -
The light that guides, in comfort...
home.

(unknown lighthouse)



188 and Counting


Who remembers those who said
my useful days had past?
Nine decades plus my steadfast watch
o’r sailing ships (for whom I hold a special glow)
and naval forces ominous.

They built another at my feet
twixt here and shore where he still stands
boldly beaconing ships who pass...
and pass no longer knowing me.

But others come by bike and bus and car
to climb my steps and listen as I share
of times gone by... and somehow yet to come.

My beacon days, done well and put to rest
On crystal nights eight miles was my reach.
Today I signal tourists who,
in search of fun, catch sight of eras past.

George Washington with vision far
who gave me life thru stroke of quill
envisioned not these thirty thousand plus
who yearly count my steps well worn.

One eighty-eight they conquer as they climb
sheading misconceptions as the go
history seeping in to displace sweat expelled.

Young ones come and blithely go...
Some to return with children of their own.
My light bends now...
as round the world it glows.


Old Cape Henry Light

The following is as the title implies, based on having seen a movie. Last time I checked it is still in Blockbuster.

On Fresh Horses, the Movie

Nearly thirty years have past
since last we shared in taste and smell delight.
Yet how I felt that final day
came rushing back to me last night.

I came to town for fun I thought
but unbeknownst to even me
in hopes of seeing you again.
See you I did… in agony.

Walking South to unknown fare
past campus dorms to private housing’s zone
careless in dress perhaps deliberate
weighted by more than clothes and books alone.

Though seeming slighter than I would recall,
The one I loved with every nerve and bone
moved much heavier than before
with burdens now to me unknown.

As I slouched motionless nearby
my heart leaped forth while body held its seat.
I could not speak or laugh or cry…
for then I knew our auras would not meet.

Twas last I feigned at mending broken past.
My life went on - I dated, moved and married.
Five grandkids later and all that lead me here
still I denied the pain so deftly buried.

Until last night - last night I lounged alone
(for reasons to entwined to tell)
I watched and munched and laughed and cried
And finally understood the hell…

The hell surpressed these years so well
came welling back as though no moment past.
As credits role the “hero’’ nearly cries.
I understand his pain… and mine… at last.

With anchor set in college soil
My ship has sailed constrained these many years.
Today the tether has at last released,
The anchor weighed, buoyed up on antique tears.

This morning's paper featured an article about the many faces of Jane Fonda. I took a look at a couple of Janes in this duet:

Jane

See Jane.
See Jane smile.
See Jane smile at Dick.
See Dick smile at Jane.
Run Jane run.
Too late Jane.
Jane likes Dick.

Me Tarzan!
I’m Jane. Its so nice to meet you, Tarzan. Have you always lived here in the jungle? It’s so beautiful! But how do you survive way out here?
Me Tarzan… you Jane!
Yes! Isn’t it exciting! I mean, being rescued after all these years! Having the opportunity to return to civilization! The whole world will be opening up to you. You have so much to learn.
Tarzan like Jane!
I like you too, Tarzan. You are so… unspoiled. I can’t wait to take you back home.
Tarzan take Jane home!
Oh, Tarzan!


I may be repeating myself, but then, its all about...

Communication

Did ever you wonder of all questions asked,
the most commonly fitting reply?
Is it “yes?” Or “no?” “Wait a minute, I’ll ask?”
“Right away sir?” “No problem?” “I’ll try?”

I’ve run businesses, task forces, groups and committees,
Heard kids, and now new grandkids fuss.
And it seems to me that the majority
of inquiries can be answered thus:

“I don’t know... and it doesn’t matter!”
Tis impudent, you say.
Well yes... and no... well actually
it’s profound in it’s own gutsy way.

“I don’t know” even what you are asking
though I’ve heard individual tones.
For the question aroused in your neurons
rarely reaches my inner ear bones.

Not to mention your true motivation
for querying me this way.
Do you really seek information or
are just grabbing for something to say?

“It doesn’t matter” may sound haughty
but is honest, you’ll have to agree.
The responses I’ve formulated
mean far less to you than to me.

In fact, research shows that most people
in their routines of day to day
spend most of their conversing efforts
on the words they’re next planning to say.

So you see thou your words chosen wisely -
meant to catch, or demean, or to flatter
generate an appropriate, though glib response:
“I don’t know... and it doesn’t matter.”

How long did it take for cleaver old me
to contrive this ridiculous rhyme?
“You don’t know... and it doesn’t matter!”
Be gone then! Quit wasting my time!


Enought thought for one day!

posted by Sparky 12:00 AM

Monday, July 30, 2001

Full Sun

It finally happened. Somebody took our cabana! Mild breeze, clear sky, gorgeous water... and somebody took our cabana!

Understand, there are cabanas stretching as far as the eye can see toward John's Pass, not unlike a train, just begining to fill, whose engine can only be imagined off in the distance. But our cabana is the caboose, situated at the south end of the Treasure Island public beach, facing southwest - so that there are no other cabanas in sight. Many times we have rented a cabana - always this one.

We got an early start, but by the time we swung by Boat U.S. (thanks Randy for the gift certificate) and drove to the beach, it was already 10:00! When we arrived, there she laid. Probably an attractive young woman - years ago - she sported a shiny, orangish-red two piece, not overly skimpy, suit. Not her first trip to the beach, this year or for several previous, she is likely younger than a first glance may suggest. And younger would she look, were her current shape encased in youthful skin.

As best I could tell, her only foray into "our cabana" was to drag the chaise out and across the front. There she flopped with book in hand, occasionally flipping, like an automatic burger on the broiler. At 12:30, she gathered her belongs and sauntered off, already well sauteed - a good hour before old man Taylor, the cabana magnate, made his way to our end of the train.

Although we settled for another, relocating to "our cabana" following her departure was well worth the minor inconvenience.

Had we foregone relocation, I might not have noticed "white float's" arrival. Not a newcomer to the beach either, she arrived with purpose. Sporting a black-banded straw hat, chosen to accessorize her black two-piece, she carried a small bag, a fold-up chaise, and a white foam float, also accented with a black band. She abandoned the hat in favor of headphones and settled in to enjoy the sun. I thought nothing further of her till, as we negotiated gentle waves on our trusty pink noodles, she drifted by... face down atop her float... topless. As hard as she worked at drifting amilessly in and out, the subtle action apparently didn't evoke the desired reaction. So she returned to her waiting chaise for a brief respite, only to don her straw hat for a little beach trolling. To North a thousand yards or so... and back... and on to South, with a little less purpose in her step. Chagrined, she gathered bag, then chair, then float - and floated off - to troll elsewhere's my guess.

Now just because I didn't say anything, does't mean I didn't notice. Treasure Island is an exceptionally deep beach. Crossing the dune line (to be) on the boardwalk from the parking lot, you cannot help notice how far it still is to the water. The more you are carrying, the farther it is. But yesterday you couldn't help but notice the couple that chose to settle in a good 30' to the side as you leave the boardwalk for the trek across the sand. Lazy? Just looking to catch a few rays? Don't like the water? Oh well - they probably want to be alone. But when I went to Subway much later, there they still were. More obvious now, she is positioned on her back, he hovering nearby, but not so close as to obscure the view of her "enhanced" figure. By my return, they had struck another, equally revealing pose. I believe they were enjoying the stares more than the rays. And on this final exposure, I couldn't help but wonder if this were not her work clothes... more or less.

Then there was the old man surf fishing, standing in ankle deep water, in a very populated section, seemingly oblivious to the danger of his sport. The young adults who anchored their jetboat well inside the swim buoy, which they used as base camp for their jet ski trips also added danger, the kind often unnoticed until a crisis happens.

This day there were a smattering of kids: The four girls that almost accomplished a pyramid. The little tike with his Little Tyke dump truck just standing there near the waterline, half crying, half screaming about apparently nothing, obviously not getting the response he was working so diligently for. The pre-teen boy who just couldn't throw a spiral like his older brother or his uncle. The pre-school girl who couldn't coax her mother out of the cabana. The two girls obviously humoring their Sunday Dad by letting him take them for "a fun day at the beach."

But it was not kids' day at the beach... or the surf fisher's... or the jet-teens'. This day the show belonged to "shiny suit," "white float" and the "silacone twins!"

There's nothing like a full sun Sunday at the beach!

Notes regarding previous blogs: "One if by land, two if by sea" is from "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere," the Edmond Fitzgerald sank (in case you meant to ask) because the crew didn't fasten all the hatch cover bolts [They would probably feel foolish today, that is if anybody survived], and if you want to know what is the next best thing to a sea anchor, ask Wendy, who is back in full blog.


posted by Sparky 3:33 PM

Friday, July 27, 2001

Full Moon

Any good sailor can tell you when the next full moon will be. Unfortunately, not everyone is a sailor. Some people seem to think they can act out any day of the month. Take Wendy for example. Wendy, my blog mentor, who usually has such thought provoking and compelling entries, has taken to a cat theme, of all things! Now I understand cat attendants (sometimes called cat owners by those who don't) can wax philosophical about their feline companions (stretch). But, sorry Wendy, the last couple of entries have been wax free. Full moon.

Take the people in my office. Full moon. If I told more, You wouldn't believe it anyway. Let's just say, disfunctional is totally inadequite to describe these last couple days!

On to a good stuff interlude! Randy is in route to Philadelphia to assist with a seminar. I looked up the hotel on the internet - not shabby! His practice is booming!

Russ and family will be down next Wednesday for "a last summer sail before school starts." You know he has such a strenuous schedule, what with teaching TWO classes and all. We are looking forward to the grand-kids... and their parients!

Back to the moon....

And then there is Florida politics. Full Moon all month long. The courts just convicted two nude dancers in Tampa and fined them $350 each for violating the 6 foot rule. Now let's see... how many lap dances does it take to pay a $350 fine? Meanwhile, the Tampa Mayor is keeping the state-of-the-art surveillance cameras in Ybor City to spot known criminals. Score so far - 0. But then, the locals have difficulty arresting people when they know whaere they work and live. What makes us think that they will actually catch someone if they do spot them with the cameras? Oh yes. Katherine Harris (of Florida election fame) is not announcing her plans to run for Congress from the Sarasota area until after her vacation. What suspense. Meanwhile, the natural gas pipeline is progressing nicely across "protected" wetlands. Full moon - extra bright.

We don't have anything planned this weekend, which starts... NOW!



posted by Sparky 5:40 PM

Thursday, July 26, 2001

One if by land... two if by sea

Where have I heard that before?

Anyway, obviously the right answer it two!

Sea School was fantastic! Thanks to those who made it possible. [You know who you are.] I learned stuff I didn't know I didn't know. I was scheduled to take my exam today, but had to postpone till August 7 because of a meeting that moved into my space. I'll be more careful protecting the 7th.

Basic rules of boating:

1. Stay in the boat.
2. Keep the water out of the boat.
3. See 1 & 2

Do you remember the Edmund Fitzgerald? It is the grist of a great song, but why did it sink? If you want the details, attend Sea School... or ask me. I'm easy.

Do you how to "heave to?" William F. Buckley does a great presentation on his video. No sailor should leave the sight of land without this valuable knowledge.

What do you do when you need a sea anchor when you don't have one?

Keep a sharp weather eye....


posted by Sparky 4:27 PM

Friday, July 13, 2001

A blog a day keeps the doctor away.


Let's continue:

Sea School -

Tomorrow it begins! For the next 9 days, I will be in school working toward my Captain's License. That's 9-6 on weekends and 6-10:30 weekdays. If nothing else, it made me get my First Aid and CPR certifications. Hey, who knows? Maybe some day your will see Captain Sparky on the nearly world famous Tampa Bay Duckboat Tours! [There are other reasons to get a license.}

Maritza -

Bob's youngest, Maritza, knows how to pick friends! She is currently cruising toward the Bahamas aboard her friends' family yacht. I used friends' because they are three sisters - a 14 and 2 12s. I told the 14 she looks like Allie McGraw and she had no idea who I was talking about. That's not scary. The scary part is I told Bob this story and he said, "Who's Allie McGraw?" So tell me your favorite Allie McGraw story and I'll give you Maritza's travelogue when she returns.

Adham

Adham's got a girl friend! Her name is Allie. (She doesn't know Allie McGraw either.) But they met at the bowling alley. {no bowling alley jokes at this time.] Adham his no trouble attracting attention. He is nearly 16, incredibly handsome, about 6'4", blonde, clean cut.

David -

David is incredibly handsome too. He is 9 months and also tall (for his age). He has no trouble attracting attention either.


Hmmm. All smart, attractive grandkids! I wonder where they get it from? Could it be, they get it from... Old Dad!

posted by Sparky 3:32 PM

To blog... or not to blog. That is the Question!

Good blogs make good neighbors.

A blog in time saves nine.

Blog on, dude!

And so it goes. So much is happening, has happened, etc. Lets hit the highlights:

Mr. Snuggles -

Yes, I miss him. Daily I can see the many reasons we did the right thing for him and for us. But I still miss him!

Blues Clues Live!

You haven't lived until you have taken your granddaughters to see Steve, Blue, Side Table Drawer, Thinking Chair and all their friends in live performance. Take a touch of Sesame Street, Barney, and Captain Kangaroo - and there you have it. But the magic of the event was reflected brilliantly in their eyes! [Try not to think about the money. Its outrageous, but so is a concert ticket now days.]

Sailing Tampa Bay

As you probably know (expecially if you are Russ) that Russ moved Shaman to the St. Pete Municipal Marina, just a short dinghy ride from our houseboat. I thought sailing Tampa Bay might be dull. KNOT! (That's a nautical pun.) Good wind, plenty to look at, tankers - all the essentials of a great day on the water... and easy access!

OOPS! I'm late for a meeting!


posted by Sparky 1:34 PM

Tuesday, July 10, 2001

It happened again!

This is my third post today! When I attempted to publish the first one, it disappeared! It was then I discovered the 6/19 post was in my history but not on the site. I fixed that and posted again - which also disappeared. Each one gets shorter! Let's see where this goes.... AND AGAIN!!!


posted by Sparky 4:48 PM

Tuesday, June 19, 2001

Why is it, when you decide to "Do what is right" it doesn't always feel good?

We (Nancy and I) had had several discussions about his whining. It seems Mr. Snuggles, as he grew older, grew less content with spending long hours alone. Last week, I set out on the unpleasant task of finding him a new home. Eleven would-be new parents called. After screening interviews, I selected a couple to meet Mr. Snuggles last Friday night. FORTUNATELY, they cancelled. I went back over my list and called the Livingstones. After indicating they would love to meet Mr. Snuggles, he and I gathered up his stuff and went for a ride.

The Livingstones turned out better than perfect! A few months ago, they lost a St. Bernard to old age. While thy would have loved to have another, Mr.L can no longer lift, limiting dog-size to whatever Mrs. L can pick up. Enter Mr. Snuggles. An instant hit, Snugs took to them immediately - and they to him. For about an hour, we talked while Snugs played and licked and ran round the house, only to come charging back every time he heard his name. Still a nervous parent, I suggested we get him familiar with the back yard, which he promptly labeled as his very own.

["Yard" isn't fair. There is a fence on both sides, but none in the back, as the house opens out on a beautiful finger of Boca Ciega Bay. At the end of the dock a 30' Freedom sits stately, waiting for church members to come for a day on the water. When they could no longer sail, the Livingstones donated the boat to their church, loaning them the slip for ease of use. Two 10' stripes of grass frame the swimming pool, with a jacuzzi tucked over in the corner.]

Back inside, and significantly lighter, Snugs continued his acclimation. The house is laid out in two large circles. From the front door, you proceed straight back thrugh the dining area to the family room. Then you can choose to turn right and circle back through the living room or left through the bedrooms - either returning you to the front for another circle. The architect could not have designed a better Snugs racetrack!

Today I talked with Mr. L. Snugs is doing great! He is learning to drop the toy so you can throw it again - a behavior that never happened at our house. He sleeps through the night - and no wonder! He gets to run and play all day.

It is a tremendous comfort to know the Mr. Snuggles has landed in puppy heaven-on-earth. Placing him there was the right thing to do - for him and for the Livingstones.

I still miss him.
posted by Sparky 2:24 PM

Monday, June 11, 2001

Have I told you about Mr. Snuggles?

I thought not. Still a puppy (just a few days younger than grandson David), he is a Bijon, so named "Mr. Snuggles" because Old Dad quickly tired of people saying "Isn't she cute!" [The "Snuggles" part is because he looks like one of those Snuggles hand puppets.] Now the cute part is reasonably accurate. His new best friend is whoever is new. When we go across the parking lot to the park, he makes friends easily. But a new friend can be paying him 100% attention only to be dumped in favor of another new person walking within leash-range. Once ignored by the new person, he will rebound to the old new friend like a yoyo.

Indoors, Mr. Snuggles [a.k.a. Snugs] likes to fetch. He will select "toy of the day" from his toy box... actually, he may get out several. Your job is to throw the object. He will race after said object, often capturing in still in motion, and bound back ready for the next mission. One problem. He doesn't have the letting go thing down yet, so there may be a tug-o-war tucked in between throws. [We don't play this game in the park because he likes people more than toys.]

Well, it finally happened. Snugs was guarding the houseboat roof when the entourage arrived for dinner on Tuesday. Too many new faces all at once had Snugs dancing along the edge. A paw slipped over the edge. Snugs gave a push in the direction of the dock. His front paws made the transition, but alas, the rest of his 9-pound body came up short, dragging him tail-first for his first swim. Quick action by Russ and Old Dad had him netted and whisked away to the bathtub for a rinse and dry. [Meanwhile dinner preparation got off schedule and the french fries arrived with dessert. The dessert was Village Inn pies, so the fries were mostly ignored.]

Back to Mr. Snuggles. The books say he should be a wonderful companion - a lap dog when you want one - playful when you are ready. Snugs hasn't read the books. That, or he has dyslexia. He plays and he lap sits - when he is ready. And he is apt to let you know when you are not on his schedule.

Take last night for example. On second thought, let's not. We'll just say it wasn't one of his finer moments and leave it at that. He is about the cutest puppy you ever saw, which may be the only reason he isn't familiar with the Humane Society today! I'll keep you posted.

posted by Sparky 1:32 PM

Monday, June 04, 2001

Imagine an archery competition. The stakes are say, approximately enormous. So you go out and find the best marksman you can find. Your expert shows up for the competition to see about a hundred targets of all sizes and shapes. Unfortunately, your marksman doesn't know what target to shoot for. You may win, but the odds are against you!

I saw a box ad in the local paper for the Executive Director position for the newly merged, Greater Tampa Bay United Way. The writer was clearly an expert (probably the HR Director for a major company) who wrote clearly, advertising excellent salary, bonus for performance, and generous relocation package. Undoubtedly the commmittee will interview some of the best UW professionals from everywhere... except here... and will get the best that money can buy. Of course, then the learning curve will start, so if he or she survives, say, three years, the community may reap some benefit - may not. Oh, well!

On to the news of the day:

You shudda been there!

Imagine sailing up the channel wing and wing (that's with the jib out on one side and main out on the other - a rather tricky manuever for sailing down wind). Dolphins everywhere - at least a couple dozen. The kids (all sizes) were captivated.

Anyway, we sailed up the channel with power boats of all shapes and sizes providing "entertainment" - and wakes - made a starboard cut into the marina channel, took the dogleg to port, approached the marina, again wing and wing straight down wind, eased to the starboard side of the marina channel, took in the jib, took a hard cut to port and settled into an open slip like veteran sailors! Remember, Shaman doesn't go on the roof of your car. At 43' plus bow and stern "stuff," and weighing multiple tons, she is capable of crunching pilings, boats, docks, or anything else in her path.

This adventure was enjoyed (to varying degrees) by a captain and crew of 14 - some seasoned, some definitely not! Four had never been sailing. Start with Captain Russ and his regular crew (Karen, Anna, Sydney & David). Add Karen's parents and their grandson, Dustin. Of course, Old Dad and Nancy came or there would be no blog. Add to the mix Bob, Mari, Maritza and her friend Sophie. (I learned Sophie, who looks and acts remarkably like Maritza, has a lot of best friends... but that's another story.)

Anyway, we went out approximately on time. Because the wind was light, we decided to anchor off the Don CeSar for a swim. While most frollicked, Captain Russ decided to take a stress test. With fins and mask, he went about working on the bottom of the boat. He must have bleached out in the water, as he had no color upon his return on board. Nurse Nancy went to work on the Captain while we motor-sailed home. Nearing the mouth of the channel, we experience a temporary loss of power. A quick trip below was followed by shutting down the diesel. You know the rest of the story!

Follow-up: Russ is fine. The engine problems appear to have been transitory. Dustin has caught 7 fish since the trip. Sydney got lots of stuff for her birthday. David likes lunch meat better than carrots. Monday finds most of the fateful crew back in their normal routines (normal being relative). And the essence of another tale of the sea is maturing. You shudda been there!




posted by Sparky 3:04 PM

Thursday, May 31, 2001

Finally:

Equal Rights!
Did you ever notice
equal rights
are more equal for some than for others?

“Equal” means
the advantage is barely noticeable
to those who have it.

Thank goodness the government protects us!

There is no more age discrimination
(but you may be “overqualified”).

Equal Employment Opportunity is great
(until you get passed over to meet a quota)!

Why is there always a longer line
at the “Ladies Room?”

Why do red cars
get more tickets?

But, its better now.
Even our language is politically correct.
Today’s generation is sensitive to everyone’s needs.

Right!
Have you ever seen
a left-handed mouse?

Truth is:
”equal” only exists in a vacuum.
(And we know the vacuum is far from gender-neutral!)

You can’t be fair -
But you can always care.

Oh, that’s so cute! You oughtta be a righter!

I do believe
I’ve just received
a left-handed compliment!

Hey Russ! I finally found it!

They Are Coming!

Not a gull in sight that day
as we sat, stale bread in hand.
“My help, Pepa,” she squealed with glee
as she released both fists at once
from dock to ripples far below.

“Where the birds, Pepa?” she asked,
confident that I would know,
not noticing her dancing crumbs,
tenderized by salty brine,
as minnows darted all around.

My soft reply, “They’ll be here soon -
But look! Your bread is feeding fish!”
Glancing down, then up at me,
she saw no fish, nor had she need
as with her trusting eyes she said:


-----They are coming
---------- this I know.
-----My Pepa said it....
------------------ It is so!


And just that fast I understood
the awesome rush that God must feel
when one in love or desperation
accepts His word without the slightest
semblance of substantiation.

They came. Of course they came.
First one... then twelve...
then more than fit her panarama,
her eyes sparkling with wonder...
Not at their coming, but their glory.

A joy now lost to those of us
who in our self-sufficiency
see only what we can explain.
Our eyes a glimmer now and then
but full of wonder... no.


Oh to walk that dock once more
in little feet with saucer eyes.
To absolutely know within
That all the answers, patiently,
await only my asking.

T’was there my grandpa nurtured me,
unaware of lessons taught.
And now as “Pepa,” thinking I would teach,
have come to grow in trust again,
for Grandpa loves us steadfastly.

So as I gazed into those eyes
which love and trust beyond a doubt,
a bubbling jarred my stable faith...
after many years remission...
surging through my veins once more.

I ask, What bait might I cast
to bring them here from whence they hide?
Tis angels now I long to see,
to sense the breeze upon my face
from silent pounding of their wings.

“No earthly bait can you employ
which angels draw, cajole, produce.
But should you cast your fears and doubts
in confidence for them to share -”
His soft reply - “they’ll be here soon.”


-----They are coming
---------- this I know.
-----My Pepa said it....
-------------------- It is so!



posted by Sparky 6:17 PM

Let's get it over with. I fell off the dock. Looking back, it really is a humorous picture - an old live-aboard veteran flailing futilely as he ungraceously plumets into the sea. The dinghy only weighs 68 pounds, so what was I doing standing on the rub board edge instead of the concrete dock. The dinghy was nearly out of the water anyway when I decided to improve my leverage. It cost me a perfectly good Bucs hat, a little skin off my leg and a chunk of pride. Fortunately, I had the presence of mind to close my eyes, thus preserving the contact lenses for the next adventure.

"Now," you ask, "why were you taking your dinghy out of the water?"

That's the funny part - it was't my dinghy. You see, Russ asked us to watch for a dinghy to hang behind Shaman. We found this great deal on an Avon, complete with a 9.9 Yamaha motor. You might picture Nancy and me wrestling this 10'3'' inflatable off the roof of our van. But no! The seller delivered it and launched it for us in our marina! He even checked it out to make sure it ran properly and threw in a couple life preservers to make it legal.

So there I am with Russ' dinghy tied behind my boat. Any of you who are familiar with salt water know that you can't leave a boat in salt water unless it has antifouling bottom paint, or it becomes a barnacle condo in a few days. So, being the "responsible dad" (and because Nancy hinted boldly) I decided to put the dinghy on our upper deck. This is where you came in! [It is currently on the upper deck, where it will rest comfortably until claimed by it's rightful owner!]

This is where I go out. But before I go, let me say it again. Thanks Wendy! If you would like to see what a veteran blogger can do, click here to visitWENDing.com that Wendy updates religiously... well, regularly... well, whenever! At least when she updates, she has something to say!

posted by Sparky 5:12 PM

I know! I never should have used battle of the head. For those who may as yet be landlubbers, the head is the necessary room on a boat. Not to say that Russ may not have other head battles to fight, I was referring to his replumbing the head on Shaman (his sailboat).

Thanks Wendy!

If the above copy is right justified, it is due to the genious of niece Wendy. If, on the other hand, it isn't, please substitute "thanks anyway" for "thanks!"
posted by Sparky 4:13 PM

Tuesday, May 29, 2001

Ok - it didn't work. So, if you will, imagine the paragraph below starting with "This is an entry..." is center justified, followed by a paragraph right justified. "brother" is in Broadway text. "or not" is in Forte. All of this was lost when I attempted to write a blog in my web publishing software and drop it in here. So, use your imagination (and if you know how to make this bloody thing work, email me!).
posted by Sparky 3:52 PM

This is a test. This is only a test. If this were a real emergency, you would be advised to log onto the blog of a more experienced blogger.

This is an entry
unlike any other
designed to figure out
without a lot of bother
which functions can be published
and which ones that I druther
not use at all, at least until
consulting with my brother.

While we test the limits of
this tool with which I’m playing,
the need to know what’s left (or not)
should go without the saying.

The “the” of course being a filler word, inserted to make the meter work, not to be confused with content [not that it matters much, since content is pretty well lacking anyway]!

posted by Sparky 3:38 PM

Tuesday, May 22, 2001

Russ arrived first. After fighting the battle of the head, and coming out behind, he was ready to shower and settle in for dinner. While he was in the shower, Bob appeared at the gate (he now being the only Clark sibling without a gate key). [We'll fix that.] They did the normal catch-up stuff (not to be confused with ketchup stuff [remember the Burger King experience of '76?]). Anyway, shortly thereafter, Randy joined us and we all attacked the chicken and yellow rice.

But let's go back a couple of weeks when Nancy and I were out garage saleing. She spotted a Dr. Seuss trivia game which she just had to have. Well, out came the game, turning last night's casual rooftop dining experience into The Great Seuss Challenge. The gameboard was discarded, as the instructions looked far too formidable. Instead, Nancy read what turned out to be rather obscure toungue-twisting questions while the guys tried to look like they knew the answers. After they had picked on mom for her Seuss pronunciations, they split up the cards and took turns - whoever answered the question right got to ask the next question. The casual dinner evolved into a three hour Seuss-a-thon, which occasionally included passersby.

As it turns out, each of the guys had a handicapping factor: Randy, the youngest, is closest to Seuss reading age. Russ currently has Seuss consuming critters at home, having several volumes well burned into short-term memory. Bob, as it turns out, was at Universal Studios on Sunday at none other than Seussland!

When all the Grinches and Whos and Its and Feet were put to rest, the nod went to Russ as Seussmaster. However, Bob expressed his sincere appreciation because the evening had given him the opportunity to "get in touch with his inner Seuss" ... and Mr. Snuggles went to bed very tired!

It was a very good night!
posted by Sparky 4:10 PM

Friday, May 18, 2001

links open windows

Well, if you had bet the farm on everything being in place at 6 pm - don't sell the tractor - you won! I picked up the remaining printing at 5 pm and everything was in place well before the doors opened at 6. ("Well" meaning more than 10 minutes.)

It was definitely a B+ evening. The reception started slow, but when there is no alcohol, who is in a hurry? Dinner was served shortly after 7. The closing was right at 9. In between, most everyone said, and or did, as was planned. The keynote address was good, but not outstanding. The Annual Report had no misspelled words. Unfortunately, the black and white proof did not reflect the color choices of the designer, which were definitely the colors I chose, but not in the locations I requested in the instructions. Where he got a little fancy with gradation, some of the text is less readable than in the proof. Another B+. Oh, well. Would you like a copy? Email me at sclark@complus.net.

Hey! As I write, son Russ is wending (not to be confused with WENDing) down I-75. We're all gathering about 9 pm at Randy's apartment to unload the entertainment center - you know, the one that didn't fit in Russ's gazillion sq. ft. house. (To be fair, it fit fine in the basement – or in the kids’ tree house for that matter - just not in the living room.)

Anyway, that's just the beginning. The party resumes Saturday (after garage saleing of course) at Russ's boat for a Lazy Jack Party! Now if you are not a blow boat fanatic, chances are you are picturing a little Jack Daniels punch and some Jimmy Buffet music. Well, they may come too, but to visualize a Lazy Jack Party, picture a Barn Razing Party, sailboat style. We will gather to install Lazy Jacks.

What are Lazy Jacks, you ask? Great question! Picture several lines (that's rope that's gone to sea) attached at various points on both sides of the boom (that's the heavy bar at the bottom of the mainsail which hurts when it hits you). Now imagine taking those lines and climbing up the mast (about 2/3 of the way to the top) and running them through pulleys - which you attach - and back down to the deck. While sailing, these lines are left loose so they don't interfere with the billowing wing-shape of the sail. But when it comes time to lower the sail, the Lazy Jack lines are tightened, forming kind of a slot to guide the sail into a neat stack on top of the boom. Voila! (French for Bingo! Right on, Dude! Cool Beans!) Hence, "Lazy" as in "lazy," "Jack" as in "Russell JACK Clark." OK, so maybe it was some other Jack, but you get the picture.

Anyway, the video instructions indicate installation is a 2-hour project. Any guesses? [Hint: Nancy is packing a lunch capable of sustaining the marina for several days.]

Sunday we are going sailing! Nuf said!

Monday night the stalwart crew (plus Bob and Mari who are conveniently in Orlando this weekend) will reassemble on the roof of our houseboat to drink rum, Michelob Light and other suitable adult beverages, munch and tell tales of the sea, reminiscent of the "dayes of yore." [They sure spelled funny back then.]

And as the tales wane and the sun cracks the horizon Tuesday, Russ will shove off for his homeport and life in the land of sunshine will return to normal (which ain't that bad, folks)!

Drop back next week and I’ll share some of the tales… that is if the adult beverages don’t compromise my recollection!

posted by Sparky 4:25 PM

Tuesday, May 15, 2001

At 6:00 pm today, the doors will open for the Salvation Army's Annual Civic Banquet. About 250 business and community leaders will be arriving for what promises to be a fine evening.

Well, I have run one side of the program. The other side is on hold, waiting to see if one of the speakers is going to confirm. The person who put the "hold" order in place has left the building with an unknown return plan.

That's OK. The Annual Report which was to be delivered yesterday is now due "... sometime later today. You may have to pick it up. We'll let you know." But then, that really doesn't matter because the brochures, gift cards and envelopes are also delayed and will also be available sometime today.

Meanwhile, the volunteers who are setting up the banquet hall "will be ready for the printed materials at 2:30. Please make sure they are here."

Hmmm. I have been kicking around non-profit organizations for some 32 years now. Not much has changed - except me. I have come to understand that this is normal. I think I'll go look for a snack and get prepared for the last minute - which obviously is when everything happens anyway.

Reporters say this type of event has no news value. I disagree. The mere fact that one can happen at all has to be right next to "walking on water" on the Top Ten Miracles list.

By the way, it is now 12:15. Anybody want to bet everything will be in place at 6:00?
posted by Sparky 12:21 PM

Tuesday, May 08, 2001

Do you know how, sometimes there are things you should do, but you put them off for a long time, and then when you eventually do whatever it was, you find it was quick and easy, and you wish you had done it long ago?

Well, let me tell you about Mr. Dan.

But the story really begins with Randy's new job with the St. John Clinic. Paul St. John, as it turns out, is very well known in neuro-muscular massage circles. He travels all over the country teaching neuro-muscular massage techniques. Randy had attended several of these seminars and, when he learned of a position opening in the clinic, agressively pursued the position. [If you haven't caught Randy at Busch Gardens, its too late!]

Anyway, Randy is really into this new gig, and has been gently bugging me to do something about my short leg. So... yesterday I went for an x-ray, got measured by Randy and went to see Mr. Dan, the shoe repair man. In actuality, the original Mr. Dan yielded to his son, who in turn, relinquished the business to his son (not named Dan). None the less, this guy is an artist. He chose my Rockports for the initial treatment. The 20mm wedge is virtually weightless! In less than an hour and $28.50 later, he changed my life! I am walking better with less foot pain. I know I will reap many benefits in the future.

As you might expect, I am beginning to experience pains, particularly under my shoulder blade, as my body responds to the pressure differentials caused by walking and standing normally. But it is a good pain, knowing my bones are headed back where they belong. And if the pain gets stronger, I know a very competent massage therapist!
posted by Sparky 3:07 PM

Tuesday, May 01, 2001

When we looked out the window by the laundry chute, I thought I could see the pine grove mom was pointing out to me. It appeared to be slightly to the right of Knickerbocker Hill (which I learned years later was actually over near Pittsford). This stand of pines was to be our destination for our May Day Picnic! What a beautiful, warm Spring Day for such a glorious outing!

Over the years, May Day has marked many things - Russian Memorial Day, Wicken celebrations, the end of the semester in college - but none so special as the endurance march (maybe as much as a mile) to that magical May Day Picnic. Down to the "Dead STOP End" sign where pavement gave way to tire paths. Out across the corn field, not yet planted. Over a farm bridge and down a path that meandered through waist high weeds, FINALLY terminating at the edge of the giant pine forest. Did others go that day? Probably. But what I remember is the incredibly long walk, the towering trees... and Mom.

Happy May Day, Mom.
posted by Sparky 11:44 AM

Wednesday, April 25, 2001

[Note: There are two separate entries combined below - the last one first.]

I just can't let Secretary's Day get away without sharing the following ditty, again from 1996. While the steps of logging on have changed, the message is still the same. See if you agree with:

ON BEING AN EXECUTIVE ASSISTANT

[unlock]
Start
Programs
Office 95
Microsoft Word

And so it starts.
Another day of processing.
Other peoples ideas…
-- rough as they may be
waiting to be input
never asking for my input
-- but with out it what good would their output … be.

That’s it! “B”!

If I were asked to grade it
that’s what I’d give this stuff.
It really isn’t awful
but not nearly good enough
to let it past the front stoop
and out into the fray.
It takes my touch to transform
this pile of “B’s” to “A’s”!
[OK Poette Extrordinaire -
don’t give up your day job.]

No one asked me to edit… only type.

Meetings, lunches, “important stuff”
is what they do all day.
(And sometimes I wonder if “all day”
is a concept known only to me.)

They come and go,,, and in between
dash off this stuff -
which almost represents our business
the way they think it does.

Between paydays they blow
more than they value me.

By the way,
I also make coffee.

Spell check
Print
Save as
Close
Shut down
[lock]

I think I’ll call in sick tomorrow.

Did you remember Secretary's Day?

posted by Sparky 11:33 PM

Well, thank you all who offered words... ranging from acclaim to outrage. In response to popular demand (mine) here is the next group of bedtime stories. I am having difficulty getting the proper line spacing. I have placed dashes at the beginning of lines indicating a tab should be there. (Somebody email me the secret to tabbing.) If you would like a properly spaced copy for your collection, e-mail me.

Now I have been advised to spread these out more, and there are a limited supply in my archives, but I prefer the "Throw it at the wall and see what sticks" method of selection. [Those on the outrage end of the spectrum may want to skip "The Fine Art of Trolling"] So get your wall ready. Here they come!

MIND GAMES

Was there a time when all was right
-- yet you knew your bubble soon would burst?

And when it did you were surprised... then hurt...
-- then depressed about your loss so dear?


The needle of your very wish came true.
-- You believed it done and it was so.

The human mind forgets more than it knows
-- and in passing... molds reality.

POST-PARENTUM

The sound of the refrigerator shutting off
-- yields to the thik thok from the kitchen wall.

I listen for more cheerful sounds ....
-- Nothing.

Oh for the crying babies
-- or for the bedtime stories
---- or for the nights when they were late but didn’t call
------ or for the promises on report card day
or for the marathon phone calls to no one in particular

They are grown now.... Now I groan
-- too often over nothing.

The silence keeps me up at night
-- approaching morning from a groggy sleep little bed.
The TV blaring is no match
-- for the overpowering silence of this house
which once rocked
-- till life was vacuumed out
through the clock on the kitchen wall.

What replaces the burden of parenthood?
---- Nothing.


REEFING POINTS

There are old men who sail,
and then, there are old sailors.

Old men who sail are always ready
to cast a line or offer some friendly advice.

Old sailors know. And after you get to know them,
May share a trick or two. May not.


THE FINE ART OF TROLLING
a.k.a. the angler

Just perched there -
a seasoned angler
-- motionless with purpose.
Casual.
-- Content.

Her blouse curled slightly open
just enough to catch attention
with wispy fragile lace
barely perceptible…
-- but to the lustful eye.

There could be no mistaking
but that the patterned appendeges
must be garter tethered, snaps lurking
-- barely obscured by the hemline
which schooched upward ever slightly,
-- apparently by incidental motion.

The toy-like purse
-- with capacity ample
to tote a variety of feminine gear
-- dangles precariously near
to be worked more deftly than a jig
which would ward off any catch
--were it not presenting such tantalizing bait.

Conservation mindful -
--catch and release her motis.
Luring them in … throwing them back…
in quest of one worth mounting
-- oft' settling for dinner.

The adventure of this night will pale
to the tale of tomorrow.

Well, there you have 'em. No way of tellin' what may roll off my fingers next time. [Russ, I'm still looking for your item.]
posted by Sparky 3:36 PM

Sunday, April 22, 2001

As best I can figure, I wrote this in 1996:

One Old Man

For years now the tale's been told
Of a man quite determined and bold
Who organized folks
to help out the blokes
who were forced to live out in the cold.

It was love, or compassion, or caring
That made him so forceful and daring
That red tape was busted
And street folks were trusted
With shelter and food for the sharing.

Many years now have passed since he parted
But just look at the programs he started.
He died, so they say
All wrinkled and gray
Folks still follow the course that he charted.

He was never tempted to cash in
On random acts of compassion
Each gentle a session -
His whole life a lesson
You can do more by lovin' than thrashin'


The old man does have a name. Got a guess who it is? Send it to me! In contrast, here is:

The Maven

Once upon a platform standing
with speech writers smoothly handing
double talk and platitudes to spout and make opinions soar -
Stands a man in Dior fashion
Spieling with a kind of passion
Reminiscent of the great ones, politicians gone before.

Gone are smoke filled rooms of dealing
With each faction there appealing
For a platform which will shore up his constituency more -
Polls and surveys analyzing
PR firms are synthesizing
Images that public hearing, will adhere to and adore.

“No new taxes!” “Cut the spending!”
Sound bytes that are never ending
Come across the TV screen where Tide and Windex went before -
“Vote for me” the message peeling
“Send that liberal scoundrel reeling!”
“Life will be near Shangrila-ish. You will worry nevermore!”

“Tough on crime!” “Crack welfare’s platter!”
Said enough will come to matter
Even though the deep set problems for solutions still implore -
Get elected. That’s the mission.
After which we’ll all go fishin’
While the public asks for favors, favors we will then ignore.

Once in office our tune changes
As a spokesman rearranges
Issues, quotes and commentary, setting up another four -
Advocaries all around us
Stir up mud and make a big fuss
Hoping that the public outcry will ring loudly, “Nevermore!”

And for those of you who have ventured this far, one of my personal favorite observations:

FRATERNAL TWINS

Was it Dior who first gave view
to bras and panties shown in sets?
Which is meant to favor other?
And is anybody fooled?
Oh sure they are of species “underwear”
but otherwise have little commonality.

The bra is structural in nature (though hardly natural at all)
formed to enhance, restrain or otherwise misguide
the wandering eye of suitors possible.
With stays and straps that pull and push
mere body parts into a welcome sign.

Tis the role of the bra, sometimes formidable task
to tell the world (or at least the male half)
That herein rests forbidden fruit
to be desired but likely never tasted.

While stays and straps do pull and push
not far away the tender tush
needs no heavy duty prodding.

The panties’ reason for existence
at least in fashion terms is more
for adding just a touch of intrigue
for the viewer singular
who needs no encouragement.

Their destiny ( the bedroom floor)
is oft determined long before
they are first seen by mortal man
and seen but briefly - then discarded
though not forgotten
not considered more.

So bras and panties come in sets
but if you listen carefully
In soft discordance they will sing:
“Look, just don’t touch!”
“Touch, don’t just look!”

That's all for tonight. Sleep fast!









posted by Sparky 11:31 PM

Friday, April 20, 2001

Good evening and welcome to the beginning of what may be a meaningless journey. Then again, who knows what mighty morsel might escape through these yet nimble fingers?

I cannot possibly proceed without first crediting my blog-model, and coincidentally niece, Wendy, who can be found at www.WENDing.com. She recently celebrated her first annibloggery.

Over the years, I have written a number of poems which, if the mood strikes me (and I can locate them) I will share. They occasionally rhyme, capture wierd views on minute subjects, and generally entertain - mostly me.

So wander on back here from time to time. Life is too short to miss out on the irrelevant.
posted by Sparky 10:34 PM