The Retired Army Judge Advocates met this month in Indianapolis. Would you believe we had 108 people at the meeting? Not bad for such a select group. Each member was an Army lawyer who served at least 20 years and then retired. So, did we have 108 retired Army Jags? Of course not. The wives, widows and close friends make up a large portion of the group. That is probably why it is successful.
Steve and Pauline Lancaster hosted the group and it couldn’t have gone more smoothly. Next year, we return to Charlottesville, Virginia, the home of the Army lawyer, and the following year, it’s Big D. The main portion of our business meeting (which never lasts over 10 minutes) is to announce future RAJA sites. You talk about an organization with clearly defined goals.
Usually The Judge Advocate General and the Commandant of the JAG School (it now has a new name, but who cares) come to our meeting and update us on the Corps and the School. This year, both of them had daughters graduating from high school that weekend and could not attend. So, Major General Butch Tate, The Deputy Judge Advocate General and former Commandant came and gave both presentations. He was outstanding. He is also one of the funniest guys I’ve heard speak in quite a while.
Of course, Zane Finkelstein continued to interrupt Butch with questions and comments, some more relevant that others. Butch shot him down time after time. But Zane obliviously continued. I like to hear my voice too. But I try to be my own counsel at times like that. On my note pad, I wrote over and over, “KYMS.” That stands for “keep your mouth shut.” Even then I have trouble being quiet.
In Butch’s slide presentation, he showed a picture of his wife with their new dog. He explained that the dog was the reason Lynn had not joined him at RAJA. It seems they adopted a 12 year old rescue dog and Lynn did not want to put the elderly pet in the kennel. As Butch was closing his two hour presentation, Joe Ross raised his hand. Butch, in his humorous way said, “Joe, I’m right in the middle of my closing which I expect will become emotional. Is your question really necessary?” Joe responded, “I was just wondering if Lynn could come next year and you could stay with the dog.”
Butch mentioned that the Army JAG Corps had 1700 applications this year for 200 selections. Good numbers even when discounted for the bad economy. As soon as he mentioned accessions, I flashed back to the accessions board I sat on with General “Big Daddy” Williams. It was back in about 1977 and we were reviewing the applications of law students who wanted to become Army Jags. I remember one file I reviewed that included an invitation to attend an event at the local yacht club. I thought the invitation had been inadvertently placed in the file. But on the next page was a picture of our applicant and his girl friend standing in front of the yacht club! Big smiles. We concluded that he must have gotten his applications mixed up and we received the one meant for Navy Jag.
One of the files I looked at was just tops. He was an Army ROTC scholarship student who had been deferred through law school. His law school grades at Berkeley were excellent. The only problem with the file was he had his picture taken in a tye-dye tee shirt. Big Daddy, who had already reviewed the file, on a scale of 5 to 1, had given him a zero. I looked at the file again and the only thing wrong was the tee shirt. I finally said to Big Daddy, ‘You know Sir, since he goes to Berkeley, he may be a conformist and just dressed in the uniform of the day.” General Williams looked at me and paused. Then he said, “Jack, this young man is trying to tell you something and you are not listening.” So he joined our yacht club invitee in the trash pile.
Oh, prior to going to RAJA, I called my credit card provider to let them know where I would be, so they wouldn’t pull the plug on me. And, my credit card worked the entire trip. Isn’t life grand?
We had a great time at RAJA, but by writing about it, I have raised a troubling question. Does anyone really believe that being invited to a yacht club function makes them a better applicant for the JAG Corps?
The Judge Says
One of the reasons I started writing this blog was so I would have a repository for things I had already written. That’s why you can find Christmas poems going back to the 80’s. I also wrote a column in the Fort Riley POST when I was the Staff Judge Advocate for the 1st Infantry Division and Fort Riley. I wrote a column every week and it was great fun. I tried to plug in a little legal education (at a very mundane level), pride in the Division and Post and a little humor. I called the column, “The Judge Says.”
After I had been doing this for a little over a year, General Hugh Overholt, The Judge Advocate General of the Army, showed up for our annual inspection and presented me with the Forces Command “4th Estate Award” for writing the best column in an Army paper. I’m may be overstating the significance of the award. So sue me.
So I am going to feed in Judge Says columns under the category, “The Judge Says.” I also wrote comumns in Germany when I was the V Corps SJA. I entitled the Column, “From the Corps.” It was originally entitled it “From the Corps Rear.” The SJA office was located at the rear of the Corps, but I was convinced that I should drop rear out of the title. I guess there were no prizes for originality of thought. I may stick the “From the Corps” articles under “The Judge Says” or come up with a new category. I don’t want to make such a weighty decision at this time. Here it is. Enjoy.
*** Tuesday, we had the ground breaking for the new NCO Club. And while I wasn’t there, I’ll bet I can tell you what happened. I’ll bet General Partain and probably CSM Dyess each with a shovel, dug into the virgin soil where the new NCO Club will soon stand. How do I know this? ‘Cause that’s how it is supposed to be done.
The reason I am mentioning this is because, in 1973 (or 4, things are beginning to get fuzzy), I observed the craziest ground breaking ceremony ever. It was the new JAG School in Charlottesville, VA. The Commandant couldn’t get The Judge Advocate General down from DC at the time construction was ready to start, so he decided to wait till a later date when a lot of big wigs could be present. Well, by the time of the ground breaking, the foundation had been dug and the basement concrete had been poured. You ain’t heard nothing yet.
On the day of the ceremony it was raining. We were all loaded on buses (mandatory formation), but we were heading in the wrong direction. It seems that because of the muddy conditions, the ceremony was to be held inside at a different location. As I took my seat at the Red Cross Training Center, I noticed up on the stage, a sand box full of dirt. Now, I’m flexible (there’s a fine line between being flexible and wishy-washy) and I think I could have gone along with the late ceremony inside the wrong location as long as the dirt had come from the construction site (Heaven knows they had lots of dirt laying around). But when I found out the dirt had been purchased from a local nursery, I slid down in my seat hoping no one would see me. On three occasions, I denied being present and, even later, claimed ignorance of the whole affair. I was convinced the building had been conceived out of wedlock. But, even with this dubious beginning, the JAG School has turned out to be a fantastic building. Each one of my lawyers has studied military law at the school.
The bit about the JAG School doesn’t have a lot to do with the point I want to make. That is that Fort Riley and the Big Red One are pointed in the right direction – a new NCO Club that will bring back some of the traditions of the Army. Soldiers at Fort Riley are doing a lot of things right and we need to build on that pride. We are the best.
That brings me to another pet peeve – dissatisfiers (that’s a 75 cent word that means those things that hack you off). If we sat down and thought about the things that we are unhappy about, we could make a long list, and the more we wrote the more unhappy we would become. And there are turkeys around that do just that.
Don’t get caught up in the game of negative thinking. I knew a captain and his wife who were unhappy at Fort Carson, Hawaii and every other post they were assigned. And they loved to talk about how miserable they were. The Fort Riley community has a tremendous amount of energy and good things are happening. Get involved and contribute.
I Don’t Own a Credit Card, It Owns Me!
I am having trouble keeping up with this computer driven world. Credit cards have been around long enough that I couldn’t conceive how they could become a problem. Not for old conservative Ish. By using a credit card, I don’t have to carry around a lot of cash. Then, pay them off each month and I’m golden. NOT.
I started hearing late last year that some of the players on my high school baseball team wanted to hold a reunion. We are talking about the 1950’s. And, it happened. On Saturday, April 24, 2010, East Side High baseball players from 1954, 55, 56 and 57 met at the Collinsville Recreation Center to regale each other with long dormant memories. I counted about 18 players. No, we didn’t chose up sides. Nobody even brought a ball or a glove. But a scrapbook or two jogged a few memories. After 55 years, the stories definitely get better. The reunion was low key, but great.
We stayed in O’Fallon, Illinois with Carole’s mom. On Friday, I ducked out the back of the apartment complex to visit Schnucks Market. I bought a gallon of milk and four “D” batteries. I paid with my Visa card. All went smoothly. Why wouldn’t it? The next day I slipped over to Schnucks for a bucket of chicken and my Visa card was denied! I ran it through four times before the clerk explained that the machine recognized the card, but it was being denied. That is so embarrassing. You feel like everyone in the store has stopped what they are doing and are staring at you. I whipped out a wad of twenties, displaying as much cash as I could and paid for the chicken.
As soon as the chicken was sequestered, I called Visa. Eventually, after convincing them that I was the card holder, they advised me that their records indicated fraud or a stolen card. I assured them I had the card. We went over our purchases for the last three days. They were mundane charges that one makes when traveling from Virginia to Illinois. What is suspicious about eating at Cracker Barrel?
The Visa representative had no authority to reactivate my card. I’m 650 miles from home and some computer, which is unhappy with my travels, has shut down my card. I was transferred to Visa Security. After again identifying myself to their satisfaction and going over my recent transactions, they agreed to reactivate my card. I was further told that I needed to contact the Pentagon Federal Credit Union (my Visa carrier) and let them know I was traveling. And, in the future, contact them before I leave the state. Otherwise, the sophisticated computer system will track me down and shut me down.
I called PFCU. The woman wanted my PIN number. I do have a PIN number. It is in a ledger back in Springfield, Virginia. She advised me that there was another way to identify me. It consisted of a series of computer generated questions that only I (the true card holder) would be able to answer. I answered two of the first three correctly. Not good enough. The computer generated questions had a better memory that I had. I didn’t do as well on the next three questions. I only got one right. Finally after answering the first two questions correctly, she asked me to identify the state in which Sandy Rice was living. I passed. This permitted me to tell them that I was traveling and would be for a couple more days. I presume this information was fed into the security computer so it wouldn’t get excited when I charged a motel bill in Beckley, West Virginia.
So our next trip is at the end of the month. I will have to call PFCU and tell them where we are going to be and on what days. What I want to know is who is working for whom? This crosses my mind every time a check out clerk is explaining to me what I need to do to process my credit card through the machine. Didn’t they used to do that for us?
On my next trip, I am now fearful I will have car trouble and be late getting to the Kentucky State line.
My Crepe Myrtle Tree
In the Army, you never stay anywhere very long. You receive orders, perhaps move to a post and are assigned to quarters. And, that is your “temporary home.” Sorry Carrie. You might plant flowers. But as for trees or shrubs, what’s there is what you get.
Our first permanent assignment (which means more than six months) was Fort Hood, Texas. After waiting almost a year, we were assigned to quarters on Newton Court, right across from the Officers Club. After spending three years in law school in a cramped apartment, this house seemed enormous. The dining room was large enough to play ping pong. We didn’t have any dining room furniture, so we bought a ping pong table.
The yard had lots of vegetation. The back border of our yard consisted of pomegranate bushes – ten to twelve. The fruit was so bitter that you couldn’t eat it. But, at the left front corner of the house was a kumquat tree. The fruit from that tree tasted like nectar for the gods. I would lose myself under that tree, picking, peeling and devouring the precious fruit. The next and last year in those quarters resulted in no fruit. A late frost wiped out the buds. I have bought kumquats, but they never tasted as sweet as the ones hanging from that tree.
In 1990, I retired from the Army and we bought a not-so-temporary home. We have lived in it for the last twenty years. At the corner where the driveway meets the sidewalk to our front door, we have a crepe myrtle tree. The first thing we noticed was that the pinkish red blooms were enormous. Some were almost as large as a soccer ball. We looked around the neighborhood and found that there were bigger crepe myrtles. There were also more robust crepe myrtles, but none had blooms as large as ours. We hoped this would not lead to bloom envy.
Our pride was dashed with the first good thunderstorm. Many of the branches were broken and most of the rest of the tree was practically on the ground. As soon as it stopped raining, I rushed out and cut off the broken branches and shook the other blooms to remove the weight of the water. I ended up with petals all over me. Next, I tied up the remaining branches like they were public enemy # 1. This kept the tree upright, but with the next storm, many of the branches snapped.
The tree became an obsession of ours. Rope, rope and more rope. Carole observed that Fort Myer had a large number of crepe myrtles and each winter they would cut them off at about two feet. So we did that for a few years. Each year the tree grew about the same height, with the same enormous blooms and the same wet weather results. I bought more rope.
One year, we had an extremely severe winter and lost some shrubs. I thought the crepe myrtle was toast. Crepe myrtles get started late in the spring. I didn’t realize that and since everything else was green, I figured our crepe myrtle had croaked. I cut it all the way to the ground. I am telling you it did not look alive.
By June, it was shooting out of the ground like a weed. It wasn’t quite as tall as previous years, but it still had its beautiful over sized blooms. I had to use a lighter weight rope that year.
About three years ago, Carole came up with an article in Southern Living entitled, “Stop! Don’t Chop!” It gave a blow by blow accounting of how to cut and shape your crepe myrtle. The article gave credit to a brochure from the Spartanburg Men’s Garden Club. You probably were wondering what the Spartanburg men were doing when it wasn’t NASCAR season. Well, they are trimming their crepe myrtles.
Anyway, I’m into my third season of following their advice. But I still had to deal with these gynormous blooms. As things will happen, all the stars lined up a year ago. Just as the blooms were at their peak (and before a storm), we were having stone edging placed around the house. Tom Hardy, our landscaper, looked at the crepe myrtle and said, “You know, you need to remove some of those blooms off of the branches or you will have trouble when it rains.” Duh!
He pointed at a branch with three large blooms and said I should cut off one or two. There it was, the answer I had never considered. It never crossed my feeble mind to whack off some of the blooms. It was truly hard to do, at first. But, it worked. I may have had one branch snap last year, but that is real progress.
I actually put on my calendar for the first of February to trim the crepe myrtle. Well, it is still waiting to be trimmed. I couldn’t get to it in February because of the damn snow. There is still time.
The Mail Pile
We arrived home on February 5th from our two week Panama Canal cruise. We ducked in right before the second monstrous snow storm wiped out Washington, D.C. It wasn’t easy, but we made it home, picked up our dog and were protected against whatever Mother Nature wanted to throw at us.
We sat at the kitchen table and stared at two weeks of mail. It was well over a foot high. Then it struck me. It might be interesting to see what kind of mail one received over a two- week hiatus. I knew it wasn’t going to be exciting, but it might be interesting.
Carole starts by sorting the mail. She takes out the bills and her stuff (coupons and magazines) and I get the rest. Weight wise, I get 90% of the mail. Quality wise – 3%.
I noted that on February 1st, we received our Christmas card from Carrie (the Weird) Baker. This was really early for her. I hoped everything was OK. Usually the card arrives so late, you are not sure whether it’s late or early. We won’t be able to complain to Carrie about our snow, because she lives in Rapid City, South Dakota.
At Fort Riley, I was a member (and for what seemed forever, the miserable Secretary) of the Ancient and Honorable Order of Lion Tamers (AHOLT). This gaggle had no social redeeming value. But each year, we took a picture of ourselves and the miserable Secretary mailed it out to all previous members as our Christmas card. We made great effort to mail it out before St. Patrick’s Day.
I was convinced that I would have more credit card solicitations than anything else. I was wrong. I only had two. I guess they have given up on me. The big winner was charitable solicitations. If I ever gave a buck to a charitable organization, it never forgot me. In fact, the Alzheimer’s Association sends me something every month. I guess they figure if I’m concerned about Alzheimer’s, maybe I won’t remember that I have already given.
Right behind charitable solicitations are political solicitations. In weak moments, I have contributed to both political parties Consequently, I have made both of their mailing lists. Do you know what? I think the same people write the material for both parties. “The other party (be it Dems or Reps) is part of an evil plot to destroy our country.” The only way I can save the Free World is to send money. It is really tough carrying this awesome responsibility.
Then there’s the mail where they want to sell you stuff. A store closing sale. Cars at bargain prices. Membership at the Smithsonian. Insurance solicitations. Oh yes, let’s not forget lawn care. I haven’t seen my lawn in three months.
I received two letters from brokers who want to take Carole and me to dinner. Isn’t that nice? We don’t even know them and they want to take us to dinner. Maybe they are lonely. I’m torn, but not that torn.
Golf Magazine wants me to renew my subscription. What they don’t realize is that each year I go to the D.C. Golf Expo out by Dulles Airport and, as part of the entrance fee (which is quite low), I get a year’s free subscription to Golf Magazine. There is a slight glitch this year. It was to be held on the 5th, 6th and 7th of February when nobody could get out of their driveway. The Golf Expo was snowed out. But if it ain’t free, I don’t want it.
As I am wrapping up this list, I want to mention that I received three golf brochures from Myrtle Beach. I am convinced that there are only two types of people at Myrtle Beach, golfers and those who mail out golf brochures. I wonder if they could include a free subscription to Golf Magazine.
Now the US Postal Service is talking about not delivering on Saturday because they lost billions last year. That would mean that I would have to wait the entire weekend to get my Alzheimer’s’ solicitation. By Monday, I may not remember whether I have already donated.
And Then It Snowed, and Snowed and Snowed
If you would have asked me last fall about winters in Washington, DC, I would have told you that they really aren’t bad. My theory, while not scientific (or even accurate) is that the Blue Ridge Mountains seem to break up whatever is coming at us. Heavy snows seem to go to our North. Then, I would mention that I bought a snow blower about five years ago and never used it the first three years. This year, all hell broke loose.
Carole and I are planners. So we started planning our Christmas party in February 2009. For any number of years, we had a party every year. Then, about ten years back, we went to every other year. In February 2009, we hadn’t had a party in five years and to my surprise, Carole wanted to have another party. We sat down and made a list of what needed to be done each month. For example, outdoor lights needed to go up in October. All indoor decorations had to be completed by November so that Carole could start cooking in December. Cooking is a major project. I actually had the tree up and decorated before Thanksgiving.
The party is always the Saturday before Christmas. So, December 19th was the day. We invited over 100 people. We are like the airlines, we overbook. But through the years, we have acquired so many dear friends that it is hard to know where to stop. There’s military friends and Carole’s crew of volunteers from the Fort Myer Thrift Shop. There’s the neighbors and the Arent Foxers. And, of course, my golf buddies. We figured somewhere between 60 and 70 would come. To our surprise, about 85 RSVP’d that they were coming. I began moving furniture around so that there would be room for three more bodies here and four over there. On Thursday night, I grilled five marinated flank steaks. That morning, we picked up a 12 pound Honey Baked ham.
On Friday night, the snow started falling and by noon on Saturday, we had about 14 inches. The entire area was paralyzed. For your information, DC can’t handle two inches of snow. Schools are shut down when there is a hint of snow in the forecast. I told Carole that at least the storm didn’t leave us in doubt. Our daughter, Missy, flew in on Friday for the party and Christmas. That gave us something to be thankful for. So, did we have a party? You bet. We had those invited neighbors who could walk come over. There were about 15 of us and we had plenty to eat and drink and eat and drink.
We didn’t have room in the refrigerator for all the left overs. But, with the cold weather, we filled up the garage. Did I mention the 22 pound turkey we were thawing out for Christmas eve? Even though we had food everywhere, Carole decided to fix the bird for us and Missy’s family (Terry and the two kids, Tyler and Kristin, came in on Tuesday). It was probably the right decision because what were the two of us going to do with a 22 pound bird? Also, Carole likes left over turkey.
Well, the marinated flank steaks were to die for and we ate them every other day (the other days we had ham). Christmas is especially good with family around.
Late in January, we flew to San Diego for a two week cruise through the Panama Canal. I will tell you about the cruise another day. We were to arrive at Fort Lauderdale on Friday, February 5th. Our return flights took us through Charlotte and into Dulles International arriving at 9:00 PM.
During the cruise, the CNN picked up by the ship was the international version. This was really great if you wanted to know the weather in Helsinki or who won the latest cricket match. So it wasn’t until we arrived at Fort Lauderdale and CNN transitioned to the US version that we found out that DC was getting ready for another snow of the decade. How depressing. Neither of us even wanted to eat breakfast. While we were unaware, our flight had been canceled the night before. United notified us on our home phone.
Well, we scooted out to the airport and checked out our options. Our first good omen came when we noticed that our overweight bags couldn’t be weighed because the scale at our counter was broken. There were two earlier flights to DC. There was one leaving very shortly to Charlotte and then to Dulles arriving at 3:00 PM. The other was a direct flight to Reagan that would get us in at 2:00 PM Our car was at a Fairfield Inn out by Dulles, but we weren’t willing to roll the dice in Charlotte. We opted for the direct flight to Reagan and were actually on the ground at 2:00 PM. Home at 2:30 and had picked up our dog, Nikki, from the kennel by 4:30. Then, we hunkered down for 20 more inches.
We didn’t see a snow plow until late Monday afternoon. But, with two good size snow blowers and a lot of good neighbor spirit, we cleared driveways and the street on Sunday. Then, on Monday, my neighbor, Jim Vancini and I drove out to Dulles and dug out my other car. That’s right, no garage. Jim found some jumper cables and we were in business. The battery in my new Infiniti could not believe I had left it out in the snow for two and a half weeks. I guess they don’t go camping over in Japan. I was thinking, if I had purchased a Lexus, it might have taken off by itself.
So, we got the cars tucked away and here comes the three-pete blizzard of this winter. Tuesday and Wednesday, we had white-out conditions with snow and wind whipping around at 35 mph. So, so much for the Blue Ridge Mountain theory. The weatherman was explaining some sort of circular motion up in the air between land and sea that was causing us to be wiped out. I have decided that global warming is a bunch of crap. Hey, Al Gore, go home and turn out some lights and leave the rest of us alone.
Twenty Questions
Bill Grenard is a high school friend. That would not seem unusual until you realize that after graduation, we both moved away and didn’t see each other until our 50th high school reunion. In fact, we didn’t hang around much in high school because he was a brainy kid and I was a jock. About the only thing we had in common was being math wizards.
Well, as you do at reunions, we spent some time catching each other up on what had happened in the last 50 years and found that we had quite a bit in common. We have kept in touch over the last three plus years.
Shortly before Christmas, he told me that rather than have family members provide him with traditional gifts, he was asking them to write twenty or so questions. These are not questions to be answered. He got the idea from a book by Padgett Powell entitled, “The Interogative Mood: a Novel?.” The book is made up entirely of questions. He provided me with examples from the book and then provided some questions from him. I told him I would send him twenty questions for Christmas.
Below, you will find some of Powell’s questions, some of Bill’s questions and my Christmas gift to Bill. If this inspires you to comment with twenty or so questions, great. If you decide it is a stupid idea and pass, I will understand.
I liked Bill’s questions better that Powell’s. And, to no one’s surprise, I liked my questions best of all!
Some of Powell’s questions:
Do you do yard sales? Are you happy with your teeth? Do you in general trust or mistrust earnestness? Do you attend parades? Do you gamble? Do you like pull candy? Have you any weapons on you at the moment? Would you buy a pearl choker? Are you important? Do you have any skin disabilities such as eczema or psoriasis? Can you envision saying seriously to someone, “You just holler for help, and I’ll come arunnin’ “? Do you like to use terms like “triangulation” and “extrapolation” when not speaking mathematically? Are you bold, would you say? Can you count in languages other than your mother tongue? Would you like for your life to be more, or less, dangerous than it is? Have you ever experienced any sort of hernia?
Is baseball all it’s cracked up to be? Do people stink, mostly? Is there life on other planets, or after death on this one, as it were? Do you like stalling for time? Can you lob a grenade accurately, would you think? Are there interstices in your character? Is it hard for you to resist the demands of whiny people? Have you ever wound an armature for an electric motor? Do you know precisely what a chilblain is? Do you bite your tongue or grind your teeth at night? Have you ever witnessed any credible sign of ghosts?
(I think that is enough. As I said, I thought Bill’s questions were better.)
Some of Bill Grenard’s questions:
Do you think that the older a person is, the better judgment they have, or does each person exhibit about the same level of good or poor judgment throughout the adult life? What does the word deuteronomy mean? Do you think people who live in a hilly area are in general more mentally unsettled than those that live in a flat area? Have you ever used the word “morsel” conversationally?
Seeing that the latest mountain bikes have 24 or 27 speeds; do you think this is just about right, overkill, or would 48 or 54 speeds be even better? Do you find that you take pleasure in the successes of underlings, but successes of your peers make you feel bad, at least for a brief time? Would you rather have a parakeet or a turtle for a pet? What would change you mind on that? Would you rather be a cross-country truck driver or a cross-country bus driver?
Do you think there is, in aggregate, a greater amount of talented, high-quality TV programming now that we have 600 channels than when we had just a dozen or so? Doesn’t it seem that Eeyore is clinically depressed and Pooh is suffering from early-onset Alzheimer’s? How much do TV sets playing in grocery stores enhance your shopping experience? If you think that people living in hilly areas are more unstable mentally, do you think it is because mentally unstable people tend to move to hilly areas, or is it just that living in a hilly area provides a dimension of variability that people in flat areas don’t experience and that makes them a little less stable? If you lived in a flat area and wanted to ride around the neighborhood, how many speed would you want on you bicycle?
If you think people have about the same level of judgment throughout their life, should we lower the minimum age for President to 21? Do you feel that people are subjected to more distractions, say ten or fifteen years ago, and if you do, how do you square this with reports that productivity has continuously increased over the time period? Do you feel that if the Eeyore character had been a regular on Mr. Rogers, the show would have been much too depressing for small children to watch, or would the children who watched it have just turned out to be very quiet and sort of whiny?
My Christmas present questions: (You will notice that I write shorter questions and don’t go through the folly of deciding what constitutes a paragraph.)
Is Chap Stick a necessity? How does my dog always know what time it is? When are the Vietnam veterans going to be welcomed home? Why do the American people believe candidates who make outrageous promises and then ignore the fact when they don’t keep them? Can you dress for success on a nudist beach? Is a stitch in time better that receiving a penny for you thoughts? Is Tiger making his own decisions or is he receiving wise counsel and ignoring it? Why is it difficult for people to admit that they like fruit cake? Is golf a game or a sickness? What’s so great about a White Christmas? What ever happened to Pong? Why did the lower enlisted man in financial trouble have a color TV, when I couldn’t afford one? Who are the Jones anyway? Would there be more or less strife in the world if everyone spoke the same language? Why should anyone select the cartoon character Snoopy to be their hero? Is chess a game or a sickness? Is there any reality in a reality TV show? If there is water on the Moon, will the cheese go bad? Why do they make tooth paste containers so that you can’t get the last of the tooth paste? Would Yo-Yo Mah be such a memorable cellist if his name were Joe Schwartz?
Congressman Gerry Connolly
An Open Letter to Congressman Gerry Connolly, 11th District, Virginia
Dear Congressman Connolly:
A few days back, I received in the mail a six-page brochure from you entitled, “A Progress Report from Congressman Gerry Connolly.” It was an expensive glossy brochure with color pictures of you on four pages. I thought, if this is how you want to spend your campaign money, that’s your business.
Then I noticed in the fine print on the last page the following, “This mailing was prepared, published and mailed at taxpayer expense.” I am furious. I don’t understand how you, in good conscience, can spend our money to make yourself look good. Shame on you. You could have published your report on plain white paper with black and white photos (if necessary) and saved the taxpayers thousands of dollars. I plan on holding on to the brochure so that I can show people I talk to that you are being a spendthrift with our money.
Also, please consider losing the mustache. Every time I see you smile, it reminds me of the dastardly villain who is tying the poor helpless damsel to the railroad track. In my own mind, I see the poor helpless damsel as our health care program that you have already tied to the track.
If you intend to send out any more expensive glossy, color photo reports, please remove me from your mailing list.
Sincerely,
Paul J. Rice
11th District Voter
A Special Christmas – 2009
As many of you know, each year I write a Christmas poem. When I started out, I was posting a number of them from previous years. Well, I am current and for the first time, I think I am going to post this year’s poem two days before Old Saint Nick arrives. Ho, Ho, Ho.
Merry Christmas to all of you.
A Special Christmas – 2009
In the year of our Lord, two thousand and nine,
I put pen to paper and hoist a stein.
It’s time to report on a special year,
Fifty years joined, a lofty tier.
So young for fifty, someone should delve,
OK, we admit it, we were only twelve.
With kids and grandkids, we shipped off to
A neat way to celebrate, Right? I ask ya?
Missy, Terry and Kristin made it, but were late,
They finally got their luggage, when we docked at Icy Strait.
The table seated twelve, but we had one more,
So we snatched an additional chair, and had fun galore.
We loved to watch the glaciers, and were startled by the whales,
We came home excited and exhausted, with many glorious tales.
It’s a party year, after four without,
And it always rains hardest, after a drought.
Preparations started way back in September,
And the tree has been up since I can’t remember.
But it’s all worth it, it’s where the road ends,
Surrounded at Christmas, by family and friends.
Blanche and Mary are in their nineties, but they won’t pitch a hissy,
They just want to remind us, old age is not for a sissy.
Blanche needs her oxygen, so she brings along her tank,
Mary’s broken hip’s repaired, there’s Karen and doctors to thank.
Disney in January and lessons at Ledbetter Golf,
Jack’s working on his swing, oh please do not scoff.
Financially it all worked out, you really can’t beat that,
For David’s paying Jack, not to wear his hat!
RAJA in
Party with old friends, now that’s a celebration.
We toured the city wide and saw some devastation,
But things are coming back, that’s the revelation.
Out in
Waited till the nest was empty, but never lost sight of the key.
Grant’s stepping out into the cruel world, two jobs worth of perspiration.
Missy’s recovering from a rear-ender, it’s been a lengthy struggle,
But she’s coming to our party, school and flights she’ll have to juggle.
Terry’s driving them up for Christmas, togetherness is really keen.
It’s not just the Army that suffers through the test.
Another bump in transition from job to career,
It’s tough on the family, but
Josh is studying at Radford and Little Jack is quite the sport,
Found himself a girlfriend, shortly after we left port.
So much we have to be thankful for, each year brings us joy,
But it’s friends and family that count the most, they cause us to buoy.
So with blessings to everyone, and a life full of cheer,
Merry Christmas to all and a Happy New Year!
The Nobel Peace Prize in a Cracker Jack Box
Yesterday, I listened to Barack Obama accept the Nobel Peace Prize. I don’t understand why he was selected. I guess other countries and societies have their agendas too. But, I was delighted that during his speech, he didn’t apologize for the conduct of the United States. Then, I thought, we have really sunk pretty low when I’m delighted that the President of the United States didn’t insult our country in his remarks.
I liked what he said about justifying war. Whoever wrote his speech did a nice job. And President Obama is excellent at reading speeches. He also does an excellent job at Christmas tree lightings and Easter egg rolls. It kind of made me wish we had a government like Germany where the president merely officiates at functions. I would sleep better at night if I knew Obama was devoting all his energy toward the next state dinner.
But, if Obama was just the titular head and someone else was the chancellor or prime minister, who would that be? Some of the possible answers were so scary (Reed, Pelosi) that I gave up on the whole idea. Did I ever in my wildest dream think I would get to the place where Hillary Clinton looked good?