In 2006 Democrats made an assault on the high moral ground and Speaker Pelosi vowed to crush the “Republican culture of corruption.” By that time the 2008 Presidential campaign was in full swing and I can only surmise that those now in the White House never got the memo.
So now we have a tax cheat (brilliant, but still…) overseeing the IRS, another who will not take over Health and Human Services, a pay-for-play Governor who will not get to be Commerce Secretary, a Chief Performance Officer who will not get to perform, and, oh yes, the former Governor of Illinois who did what Illinois politicians have been doing since Statehood but got caught doing it. Gives new meaning to “Yes we can.” And our new President asks us to emulate the principles and ethics of his Administration. Now in the case of Secretary Geithner, does that mean….?
Hold on, sputters the left, “you guys on the right were just as bad.” Precisely! But when those who fancy themselves morally superior are found with their mitts in the public cookie jar, it can be particularly embarrassing. Good and evil are not the exclusive prevue of the left and right respectively, and those who so profess are morally bankrupt.
Funny how transgressions of the right are always sleaze while slips on the left are “inadvertent.”
#####
The RAM is on the block! Located in a building constructed in 1889, the Red Ram Restaurant and Saloon is a Georgetown institution, anchor of commercial 6th Street, kitty-corner from (en face de) Hotel de Paris, 19th century haute maison and now museum. Absent financial rescue it will be auctioned on the courthouse steps in mid-March. Actually the two other bar-restaurants in town – the Raven Hill Mining Company and Mother’s Tavern are also for sale and the once proud Alpine Inn – site of the original town train depot – stands empty. There are two bistrots in Georgetown – the Euro and the new Prague – both Czech!, and an assortment of coffee spots led by The Happy Cooker. Georgetown may appear busted, but it has been weathering boom-bust cycles since the gold and silver mining days. We will survive!
#####
The house Stimulus Package that passed without a single Republican vote is taken by many as proof positive of either moral courage or craven indifference. Whatever. But it will contribute mightily to the eventual transfer in ownership of the economy from Bush to Obama. Success will rightfully accrue to the new Administration and failure will be more difficult to hang on the old.
Buffoons like Limbaugh who want the Administration to fail (and the trailing Coulters who tried to say he really didn’t mean it) are (almost) beyond belief. The radical left’s active promotion of failure in Iraq (General Betrayus!) in order to embarrass Bush was unspeakably evil. Current efforts from the opposite direction are no less so.
Let me be clear (to coin a new White House phrase) and make no mistake (another) {LMBC/MNM}: I believe that conservative, democratic, capitalist, private enterprise principles are the best hope for our future, but if other tenets achieve positive and productive goals I will embrace them. How could any responsible citizen do otherwise?
#####
In December there was a mini brouhaha when a C-SPAN talking head asked liberal blogger and journalist Anna Marie Cox to define conservatism and she stuttered and sputtered. A bit like asking a moose to pilot an F-16, dontcha think?
As a public service I enumerate here my own foundations of a conservative philosophy:
1. limited government
2. individual liberty
3. traditional values
4. private enterprise capitalism
5. strong national defense
One and three are problematic and much debated even within conservative circles. Four is currently under siege notwithstanding its considerable success in the 8 decades since the great depression. Five is mocked by those with short memories, including my French friends who, in its absence would be munching weisswurst instead of le chien chaud and replacing circonflexes (^) with umlauts (Ü).
But the greatest of these is Two. It seems that most every day some insidious force chips away at my right to fall on my face, feel foolish for a moment, then pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again. Hilary Clinton’s village is closing in on me. Now LMBC and MNM, I am neither hermit nor anarchist but I do value the much ballyhooed American Dream. When you remove or dilute the ability to soar or plummet, you diminish the human spirit, a condition abundantly obvious on the faces of all who exist where freedom does not.
#####
Rhetoric lives! Despite genuine attempts to reach across Party and philosophical lines, our new President still refers in almost every public utterance to “the crisis I inherited from the previous Administration,” with nary a mention of the previous Congress’ piece of that nasty puzzle. In fact, during most of 2008 the President’s approval rating (“low 30’s, worst in history”) was a tag line in virtually every media release and political speech. Not true by the way, both Truman and Nixon sunk lower, and history is rehabilitating both, Nixon modestly and Truman substantially.
But virtually no mention of Congress’ rating plummeting to an historic low, south of 10% as the 2008 election approached. Oh, and by the way, care to guess who had the highest Presidential rating in history, not once but twice? You got it, the dreaded “W,” followed by Truman. Are we fickle or what?
#####
Recent habanera communications from some conservative readers prompted a re-reading of my recent posts, and confirmed that I do appear to have achieved the exalted status of offending virtually every segment of the political and social spectrum at one time or another. I was wondering what that warm glow was. I had assumed it was just a random je ne sais quoi, but now I know better.
And this serves as a fairly accurate gauge of amity. When comity persists after you have said something alien to the beliefs of an acquaintance, you can have some confidence that a bond exists which transcends political prejudice and partisan beliefs. Others fall eerily silent.
…the adventure continues and next time I may have a new mountain perspective…
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
2009-03 GEORGETOWN
Georgetown from the Guanella Pass road, I-70 to the left, the lake at the far end... Click to enlarge.January is dead in Georgetown, when the traffic dwindles to cross country truckers and weekend Denver skiers heading to and from Loveland, Keystone, Breckenridge, Vail, and A-Basin. And most of those pass by, stopping only for gas and a potty break at the Valero. But at least once a season, I-70 on one or both sides of the tunnel is closed for hours by accidents or up to several days by inclemency, turning the village into a bustling metropolis of misanthropes cursing the same Mother Nature they previously lauded for coating the slopes with glorious powder. I’ve yet to witness such a transformation, and contemplate renting out my living room floor to a gaggle of nubile coeds desperate for shelter. I also contemplate winning the lottery, peace on earth, and smaller government.
#####
Faithful and attentive readers will recall that a favorite subject of my pillory is Garrison Keillor. His early works were sparsely witty, with smiles found every few pages and good yuks few and far between. As an avid reader of his work, I can attest that as he has become “progressively” vile in his political rhetoric, he has improved the frequency and quality of his wit. Both Wobegon Boy and Pontoon were droll pleasures, and his latest, Liberty, should not be attempted in public places lest the reader become an object of concern through unsuccessful containment of excessive mirth (this from one who rarely succumbs to jocularity). The juxtaposition of hatred and glee might make a fitting PhD thesis for a budding sociologist.
#####
Finding Liberty on the library shelf produced a confounding moment as I couldn’t for the life of me remember if I had previously read it. The cover looked vaguely familiar. No matter. I realized some time ago, while searching for positive aspects of aging, that there can be a silver lining in the cloud of advancing maturity. It first occurred when, around page 85 of Mayle’s “A Year in Provence,” something seemed vaguely familiar. Alas, I had read it several years before, yet it provided near virginal pleasure in the reiteration. I have since re-read all of his work with but rare and occasional twinges of recollection, and am about to embark on a third go-round. I anticipate that I will soon be able to acquire a complete library of a half-dozen volumes that I will periodically recycle through my brain with great joy. As I truly enjoy just one in a dozen or so books I read, the near certainty of a pleasurable repeat of a previously enjoyed but entirely forgotten work will bring great comfort as autumn proceeds into winter.
#####
I wonder if the disintegration of the American family began with the introduction of the automatic dishwasher into the American kitchen. We used to eat as a family, then wash the dishes together, or more precisely Mom and the kids. Dad had the dinner table, asking piercing questions about the day at school and checking on chores assigned. Then Mom and kids repaired to the kitchen sink and put a human face on things, subtly redirecting assignments, advising on life and love, and promising to explain the difference between acute and obtuse triangles. Or have I been watching too many “Leave it to Beaver” reruns?
#####
With the stroke of a pen less than 24-hours on the job, our new President has “closed” Guantanamo. Well, not quite. He has “promised” closure within one year. Credit should come at the completion of a task, not the beginning. It occurs that a lion's share of the credit for the much ballyhooed change should accrue to the American people, who have by and large moved beyond several hundred years of intolerance and made a decision based on hope and promise rather than prejudice and color. That credit should rightly transfer to our new President, but only upon achievement. The European model takes credit for good intentions; Americans have traditionally rewarded accomplishment.
#####
Since Letterman made “lists” so popular I have gone off the concept. But while surfing my 26-channel TV universe, I came upon “10 heroes for 2008”, including a father-son duo, while traveling I-70 in my current hometown of Georgetown, CO, were so impressed by the steep canyons (some exceeding 60 decrees) they pulled over and went for a climb. Predictably they stumbled, fell a frightening distance, and the 9-year old son, finding his father bleeding and incoherent, used a cell phone to call 911. Having no idea where he was, he guided rescue teams by telling dispatchers when he heard their sirens. For this someone bestowed upon him hero status.
I have long been disturbed by the evolving definition of heroism. I would rather have awarded the appellation to rescue crews that risked their lives to bring them to safety. I do know with certainty that I would hang “Stupidest Person of the Year” on the dad.
#####
After near record high temperatures, it is finally snowing again. For those from other parts of our diverse planet who might find themselves in the high country, I provide as a public service local snowfall terminology:
Less than 6”: flurries
6” to 12”: dusting
12” to 18”: covering
18” to 24”: snow
Greater than 24”: dump
...the adventure continues as I dig further into the history, culture, and sociology of my current home...
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
2009-02 GEORGETOWN
An historic day, and one would hope seminal as well, predictive of more genial times ahead. The day is reminiscent of January 20, 1981, when another President destined for greatness took the reins from an extremely unpopular predecessor. Would that our new leader enjoy the success of our 40th President, and the world prosper under him as it did nearly three decades ago.
An historic day, not perhaps in the words of Oprah Winfree “the best day in the history of the world.” The birth of Christ, July 4, 1776, and Columbus’ first glimpse of the Americas come to mind, but an historic day indeed. A day for pride, for hope, for reflection on both our progress and our promise.
And yet, George Washington was assigned a single military aide at his Inauguration, whom he dismissed as unnecessary. So near and yet so far.
The obvious cordiality among the incoming and departing Presidents and the First Ladies, and the warm embraces exchanged by Bush 41, Barbara, Hilary, and Bill Clinton. Then an MSNBC commercial break promoting Keith Olbermann’s upcoming program urging criminal prosecution of Bush, Cheney, and their aides for war crimes. So near and yet so far. Sad that great promise cannot seem, even for a moment, to overshadow intense hatred.
#####
On the stroke of noon the nation greeted a new President, yet at 12:06:23, with a simple “so help me God,” we reached the watershed. And now the hard work begins. Someone who counts such things has noted that our new President in his campaign made more promises that our past 3 Presidents combined. It is certainly a time for promises, many and great. But as not all can be fulfilled, prioritization becomes more than an abstract concept. As governing begins, so does the process of making difficult choices, which will tell us much about political courage.
Perhaps no better example exists, floating high behind the legislative floodgates, than the misnamed “Employee Free Choice Act” which would remove the secret ballot from union organizing elections. It will be swiftly considered by the House of Representatives as an acknowledged and unapologetic payoff for unwavering union support, and will be a powerful indicator of whether the call to great national purpose truly heralds an era of positive change or is simply another in a depressingly long string of empty promises and steely partisanship.
If the process is flawed, it should indeed be fixed. But it should not be trashed by removing one of the great cornerstones of egalitarianism. After a week of ceremony glorifying the greatness of America, the strength of its founding principles, and the enduring durability of its traditions, to cast aside a keystone of American democracy will be telling indeed. President Obama was elected by secret ballot, likewise all 535 members of Congress who will decide this matter. To suggest that the ACT will redress unfair tactics perpetrated by American business but will not be replaced by unfair tactics on the part of American Unions is not naïve but crass.
A case can be made, though surely rejected by many, that some actions of these past 8 years, however flawed, were the reaction of a nation in shock after the first devastating attack from beyond our shores. We did some bad things based on good intentions but flawed reasoning. And as we now move to correct injustices and mistakes, will we commit others of the same stripe and form. We’ll see.
#####
And a sobering footnote to a glorious day as the Dow Jones Industrials dropped 332 points. Fat cats getting theirs, it might be suggested, but those who fail to recognize that Wall Street and Main Street are indeed joined at the hip will feel pain not of their own making, but searing and intense nonetheless.
As the Nation’s Capital shivers in near zero wind-chill, the adventure continues under deep blue sky, brilliant sunshine, and near record high temperatures…
An historic day, not perhaps in the words of Oprah Winfree “the best day in the history of the world.” The birth of Christ, July 4, 1776, and Columbus’ first glimpse of the Americas come to mind, but an historic day indeed. A day for pride, for hope, for reflection on both our progress and our promise.
And yet, George Washington was assigned a single military aide at his Inauguration, whom he dismissed as unnecessary. So near and yet so far.
The obvious cordiality among the incoming and departing Presidents and the First Ladies, and the warm embraces exchanged by Bush 41, Barbara, Hilary, and Bill Clinton. Then an MSNBC commercial break promoting Keith Olbermann’s upcoming program urging criminal prosecution of Bush, Cheney, and their aides for war crimes. So near and yet so far. Sad that great promise cannot seem, even for a moment, to overshadow intense hatred.
#####
On the stroke of noon the nation greeted a new President, yet at 12:06:23, with a simple “so help me God,” we reached the watershed. And now the hard work begins. Someone who counts such things has noted that our new President in his campaign made more promises that our past 3 Presidents combined. It is certainly a time for promises, many and great. But as not all can be fulfilled, prioritization becomes more than an abstract concept. As governing begins, so does the process of making difficult choices, which will tell us much about political courage.
Perhaps no better example exists, floating high behind the legislative floodgates, than the misnamed “Employee Free Choice Act” which would remove the secret ballot from union organizing elections. It will be swiftly considered by the House of Representatives as an acknowledged and unapologetic payoff for unwavering union support, and will be a powerful indicator of whether the call to great national purpose truly heralds an era of positive change or is simply another in a depressingly long string of empty promises and steely partisanship.
If the process is flawed, it should indeed be fixed. But it should not be trashed by removing one of the great cornerstones of egalitarianism. After a week of ceremony glorifying the greatness of America, the strength of its founding principles, and the enduring durability of its traditions, to cast aside a keystone of American democracy will be telling indeed. President Obama was elected by secret ballot, likewise all 535 members of Congress who will decide this matter. To suggest that the ACT will redress unfair tactics perpetrated by American business but will not be replaced by unfair tactics on the part of American Unions is not naïve but crass.
A case can be made, though surely rejected by many, that some actions of these past 8 years, however flawed, were the reaction of a nation in shock after the first devastating attack from beyond our shores. We did some bad things based on good intentions but flawed reasoning. And as we now move to correct injustices and mistakes, will we commit others of the same stripe and form. We’ll see.
#####
And a sobering footnote to a glorious day as the Dow Jones Industrials dropped 332 points. Fat cats getting theirs, it might be suggested, but those who fail to recognize that Wall Street and Main Street are indeed joined at the hip will feel pain not of their own making, but searing and intense nonetheless.
As the Nation’s Capital shivers in near zero wind-chill, the adventure continues under deep blue sky, brilliant sunshine, and near record high temperatures…
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
2009-01 GEORGETOWN
Holiday malaise has kept me from the Blogosphere for a bit, but judging from the absence of outcry from my readership I assume all are muddling through despite the dearth of witty pearls and droll commentary.
And the alert will note that I have belatedly realized that I can include pictures, all from before the holidays when we were graced with snow. The "busy" street scene is from the Christmas market. Most days you can walk down the middle without fear of vehicular mayhem. Click to enlarge.
#####
Boredom has increased my interest in local commerce, and perusal of the local Help Wanted Ads led me to the following: (a) at the local, highly acclaimed community school, “experienced Pre-School teachers, $8-$9/hour”, and (b) at the local motel, “maids/housekeepers, $11 - $13/hour.” Depressing but no surprise that we value clean toilets and hospital corners over the education of our children. Could that be why we have so many more day laborers than innovators?
#####
My new president continues to make impressive pronouncements, propose stratospheric (if vague) solutions, and surround himself with bright stars and few ideologues, which is already eliciting anguished wails from the left. The plethora of memorabilia on the market is astounding, particularly since so few substantive memories have yet been created. Coins with JFK and BHO side-by-side, sneakers that by some accounts are outselling Air-Jordans, and now a call for an official holiday in his name. It occurs that even Jesus had to perform the odd miracle before he was awarded December 25th.
My own expectations remain elevated. Pols traditionally spend political capital on furthering their partisan agendas. At this early point at least it appears that Barack Obama is cashing his in on the quest for national unity. His expressed “inclination” not to prosecute Bush and Cheney for war crimes, the one great dream of the radical left, is already elevating Pepto Bismol sales to record levels.
I suggested sometime back that the new Chief Executive was likely to receive more heat from the left than the right. From Rick Warren to Robert Gates and Hilary Clinton, to hedges on exiting Iraq, taxing the rich, and closing Guantanamo, our new leader is learning as does every President that there is more than a subtle difference between elocution and execution.
The fear is always that a leader’s heart will refuse to pump blood to his brain, and common sense for the common good with go the way of the 2008 economy. So far, at least, we appear to have a pragmatist, and although it causes some pain in the admission, a pragmatic liberal can sometimes be preferable to a blind conservative. Recent Chief Executive pragmatists include Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton. Good company!
And by the way, I have always been proud to wear the badge of conservatism, while it appears that liberals in their shame have now shed their appellation in favor of the more politically-correct sounding “progressive.” What was it Shakespeare said about a rose? Proud noveau-progressives are undoubtedly too young to remember the 1960s motto of the quintessential American beacon of private enterprise and its spokesman Ronald Reagan: “At General Electric, Progress is our Most Important Product”.
#####
My life these days is so dependent on Mother Nature that I should be immune to surprise, yet any celestial institution that can cut a surgical path reducing one residence to rubble while leaving neighbors left and right untouched deserves both admiration and respect. I am barely 10 miles east of the Continental Divide (landmarked by the Eisenhower Tunnel) and the streets of Georgetown are void of snow. Silverthorne, just 10 miles west of the Divide sports 12-foot high drifts in its parking lots and a consistent cover of white – replenished almost daily – that will conceal asphalt until mid-spring.
I long ago discovered that I love snow and hate cold and especially wind, although the east coast damp chill that seeps into bones is infinitely more insidious than its dry counterpart of the west. A cold Paris drizzle can wither the spirit while crisp Colorado nights are bracing and bring comfort. Of course the debilitating Gallic dank drives the populace into warm cafes, toasty bistros, and dreamily olfactory restos. It’s an ill French wind that blows no good, and I have as many happy memories of shedding a winter chill with a “Cotes du Rhone chambray” and a confit de canard as I do of August romps in the Jardin Luxembourg and sweltering in long summer lines at the Louvre or the Musee Hotel de Ville.
#####
Governor Jindal of Louisiana may be a rising star on the national political scene, but he erred grievously in allowing his minions to cancel a proposed disaster response contract that promised me lucrative employ in the land where les bon temps rouler. And so it looks as though I will be stuck in paradise for some time to come, unremunerated but content.
…the adventure, propelled by a howling Chinook wind, whistles through the trees …
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
GORGETOWN/BOZEMAN 001
On rare occasions we stumble serendipitously upon the truly special -- seminal moments, priceless glimpses. Less so for me, as I am notoriously anti-social, quite likely to politely refuse social invitations and never known to wangle same.
But several days past I was invited to a private (privileged but not exclusive) Christmas gathering at the Hamill House in Georgetown, a historic structure built in 1867 and named for its second owner, a British silver mining magnate.
A brisk walk (in truth a labored hobble) in sub-zero weather to the House and what at first appeared to be the quintessential mind-bending cocktail gathering. But the scene quickly warmed with traditionally garbed madrigal singers from the local high school – what some teens do in lieu of drugs – and an enthusiastic if less than philharmonic brass ensemble.
St. Nicholas arrived in traditional regalia, looking more like a Greek Orthodox priest than our modern Santa Clause. Lights dimmed and there followed the lighting of a 12’ Christmas tree, with real candles by an acolyte’s candlestick, the first by an octogenarian who told of the candle she lit in the same room as a 5 year-old, several others in memory of departed local historical figures and firefighters who gave their lives saving residents from fire and pestilence, another for deployed military. Then a particularly poignant offering for the fathers and mothers who sacrificed their sons and daughters in order that we might all remain free.
There followed a reading of “The Night Before Christmas” by a 6 year old in whispered tones that none could hear but all appreciated. Several additional Carols by the madrigals, and just before we departed a local historianne in hushed voice showed me (why me I cannot say) a dark corner where the 1930s restoration team had secretly left their initials. “Not one in 50 of the locals know about this,” she said, “and I suspect a majority of Historical Society members are also unaware.” An insignificant item perhaps, but a Christmas gift I will not soon forget.
Christmas wishes all around, and we dispersed into the night. I walked home under a moon CNN later informed me was the fullest in 20-some years. A friend reading my previous BLOGS commented that I might have found my home. I surely have found “a” home. The final resting place is yet to be defined.
#####
Year’s end is of course a time for reflection, analysis of the past year and contemplation of the next. Year 2008 brought copious quantities of hope and anguish. The anguish will surely subside and the hope has yet to be fulfilled. Let us trust that Will’s Law of Survival holds: when the world is in the toilet, hold on, it MAY get worse but it WILL get better. The converse is that when the world is all roses and sweet cream, enjoy it to the fullest, as it will not last.
#####
Departed snowy Colorado, leaving behind a foot of snow and zero degree temps. Arrived in Montana to find 18” and -10 degrees. But the warmth of family more than compensates for Mother Nature’s cold breath.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
But several days past I was invited to a private (privileged but not exclusive) Christmas gathering at the Hamill House in Georgetown, a historic structure built in 1867 and named for its second owner, a British silver mining magnate.
A brisk walk (in truth a labored hobble) in sub-zero weather to the House and what at first appeared to be the quintessential mind-bending cocktail gathering. But the scene quickly warmed with traditionally garbed madrigal singers from the local high school – what some teens do in lieu of drugs – and an enthusiastic if less than philharmonic brass ensemble.
St. Nicholas arrived in traditional regalia, looking more like a Greek Orthodox priest than our modern Santa Clause. Lights dimmed and there followed the lighting of a 12’ Christmas tree, with real candles by an acolyte’s candlestick, the first by an octogenarian who told of the candle she lit in the same room as a 5 year-old, several others in memory of departed local historical figures and firefighters who gave their lives saving residents from fire and pestilence, another for deployed military. Then a particularly poignant offering for the fathers and mothers who sacrificed their sons and daughters in order that we might all remain free.
There followed a reading of “The Night Before Christmas” by a 6 year old in whispered tones that none could hear but all appreciated. Several additional Carols by the madrigals, and just before we departed a local historianne in hushed voice showed me (why me I cannot say) a dark corner where the 1930s restoration team had secretly left their initials. “Not one in 50 of the locals know about this,” she said, “and I suspect a majority of Historical Society members are also unaware.” An insignificant item perhaps, but a Christmas gift I will not soon forget.
Christmas wishes all around, and we dispersed into the night. I walked home under a moon CNN later informed me was the fullest in 20-some years. A friend reading my previous BLOGS commented that I might have found my home. I surely have found “a” home. The final resting place is yet to be defined.
#####
Year’s end is of course a time for reflection, analysis of the past year and contemplation of the next. Year 2008 brought copious quantities of hope and anguish. The anguish will surely subside and the hope has yet to be fulfilled. Let us trust that Will’s Law of Survival holds: when the world is in the toilet, hold on, it MAY get worse but it WILL get better. The converse is that when the world is all roses and sweet cream, enjoy it to the fullest, as it will not last.
#####
Departed snowy Colorado, leaving behind a foot of snow and zero degree temps. Arrived in Montana to find 18” and -10 degrees. But the warmth of family more than compensates for Mother Nature’s cold breath.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
GEORGETOWN 002
The Georgetown Christmas Market – note that it is not a “holiday,” “winter solstice,” or “year-end” market – was a truly festive event. I was instrumental in the vending of some $5,250 of wieners and sliders (mini White Castle-ish burgers), coffee, hot chocolate, and spiced cider, for the benefit of the local Community Center. The crowd came largely from Denver, and judging from the number of inquiries whether the hot dogs were “pure beef, not pork,” I gather that those who keep Kosher were not put off by religious implications. There were few African Americans and Muslims, but one Burka-clad young woman with a delightful smile wished me Merry Christmas. I don’t know exactly why that made me feel so good, but it did. She obviously was enjoying my season as surely as I might take pleasure in a Sedar, Kwanza celebration, or Ramadan gathering.
#####
Weather has been delightful with an 8” snow day followed by several of sun and relative warmth, where white streets return to asphalt and the cycle repeats. Loveland Ski area is pristine and uncluttered, at least on weekdays when my midweek season pass is valid. The plan has been to arrive early and be among the very first to enjoy groomed runs while the few other hardy souls nearby seek the powder my ancient legs abhor. That worked well until earlier this week when I played “67 year old idiot pretending to be a 25 year old hotdog”, bruised a muscle and now hobble about in abject contrition. The family Kenesiologist consulted long distance suggests that absent any further sportive lunacy I should be back slopeside in a week or so.
#####
I know it must be right-wing paranoia obsessing over alleged media bias, but I have noticed a strong tendency of the media to highlight the party affiliation or political leanings of Republican/conservative miscreants, while ignoring or burying those of Democrats/liberals. The Associated Press story that broke concerning Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich’s arrest on corruption charges mentioned that he was a Democrat only in paragraph nine. Googling stories on such malefactors as Congressman Duke Cunningham or Alaska Senator Ted Stevens invariably lead with the word “Republican” or better yet, “Conservative Republican.”
Before the 2006 election, Speaker Pelosi waxed long and loud over Democrat pledges to clear Washington of Republican corruption. Little outrage was expressed over Louisiana Congressman Jefferson’s stash of $100,000 in cash in his freezer (he was not censured by his Party, and it took the people of Louisiana to turn him out), and countless other examples of Democrat malfeasance.
A consistent theme of this Blog has been that good and evil, right and wrong, sincerity and cynicism, et. al., exist in both mainstream parties, in all political circles, and at every social strata. Yet I am consistently provoked by academic luminaries, social sophisticates, Hollywood personalities, and liberals of every stripe who maintain with haughty certitude that they lay exclusive claim to high moral ground. Horse pucky!
#####
As I traveled dark night into day some weeks ago, I was reminded of my departure from Galveston earlier this year. I caught the 2am ferry to the Bolivar Peninsula (me and a 50’s-something pickup driven by a chap who looked like he bought it new as a retirement gift to himself). Then along the Gulf road (which no longer exists courtesy of hurricane Ike) swinging due north toward the metropolis of Winnie and Interstate 10 east.
All alone on a narrow country road in a pitch black world until someone came up fast behind, attached themselves to my bumper, bright lights reflecting off my rearview. After several miles I slowed down. He did also. My subsequent acceleration was matched with exactitude. The lady in my GPS told me it was 38 miles to Winnie. I thought she sounded concerned.
A random thought left a tight grip on the wheel as I imagined myself as a young black man returning from college with 2 friends zonked in the back seat, or with my wife cradling our sleeping baby. The image of liquored-up good-ole-boys fondling shotguns in the back of manure-encrusted pickups certainly lingers, and is a favorite of those who sip a crisp chardonnay and smirk at anyone with sunburned arms and fingernails concealing dirt. While such frightening images exist and should never be forgotten, they are somehow never equated with gangs of color that control inner-city neighborhoods and prey on innocents who wander across their imaginary boundaries. Sadly, hate knows no border, and can be found in every corner of our world. Those who believe it exists only on the other side of the philosophical tracks fan its flames as surely as those who roam the streets.
My appendage hung close and as we approached the lights of Winnie and the single track gave way to a four-lane, I hugged right and he swung left. At a stoplight under a street light I spied a geezer, older it seemed than I, and clearly no threat. No harm, no foul, but a ton of perspiration.
#####
Some months ago in pre-dawn darkness (I used to say running, then it was jogging, now just limping along) I was flagged by two husky individuals who asked if I had any money. I slowed long enough to suggest that I did not work out with the family fortune strapped to my back, then continued on, picking up the pace just a bit. They did not pursue. But such chance encounters do tend to focus the mind.
I have a friend whose philosophy is that if accosted, immediately give up whatever is demanded. She has family members who have experienced some unpleasant confrontations, this in a location that prides itself on the security of its citizenry, certainly in comparison to the mean streets of America. Your wallet is not worth your life, I believe she would say. But I wonder in such a situation when you hand over your tangible belongings you also forfeit your humanity? Of course I have no idea how I would react in such a hostile situation, but I do hope that I would emerge with my dignity intact.
#####
About 15” and still snowing this morning. The temperature today will not reach double digits, and as the wind in Georgetown can routinely reach 50 MPH, folks don’t much mention the wind chill factor. They simply stay indoors or bundle up and accept Mother Nature without whine or whimper. Christmas lights abound and will be judged this week. The many small bridges that cross Clear Creek and its several tributaries sport lights and holiday greenery. Gives one a warm feeling despite the harshest winter blast.
…the adventure is at speed and gaining momentum…
#####
Weather has been delightful with an 8” snow day followed by several of sun and relative warmth, where white streets return to asphalt and the cycle repeats. Loveland Ski area is pristine and uncluttered, at least on weekdays when my midweek season pass is valid. The plan has been to arrive early and be among the very first to enjoy groomed runs while the few other hardy souls nearby seek the powder my ancient legs abhor. That worked well until earlier this week when I played “67 year old idiot pretending to be a 25 year old hotdog”, bruised a muscle and now hobble about in abject contrition. The family Kenesiologist consulted long distance suggests that absent any further sportive lunacy I should be back slopeside in a week or so.
#####
I know it must be right-wing paranoia obsessing over alleged media bias, but I have noticed a strong tendency of the media to highlight the party affiliation or political leanings of Republican/conservative miscreants, while ignoring or burying those of Democrats/liberals. The Associated Press story that broke concerning Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich’s arrest on corruption charges mentioned that he was a Democrat only in paragraph nine. Googling stories on such malefactors as Congressman Duke Cunningham or Alaska Senator Ted Stevens invariably lead with the word “Republican” or better yet, “Conservative Republican.”
Before the 2006 election, Speaker Pelosi waxed long and loud over Democrat pledges to clear Washington of Republican corruption. Little outrage was expressed over Louisiana Congressman Jefferson’s stash of $100,000 in cash in his freezer (he was not censured by his Party, and it took the people of Louisiana to turn him out), and countless other examples of Democrat malfeasance.
A consistent theme of this Blog has been that good and evil, right and wrong, sincerity and cynicism, et. al., exist in both mainstream parties, in all political circles, and at every social strata. Yet I am consistently provoked by academic luminaries, social sophisticates, Hollywood personalities, and liberals of every stripe who maintain with haughty certitude that they lay exclusive claim to high moral ground. Horse pucky!
#####
As I traveled dark night into day some weeks ago, I was reminded of my departure from Galveston earlier this year. I caught the 2am ferry to the Bolivar Peninsula (me and a 50’s-something pickup driven by a chap who looked like he bought it new as a retirement gift to himself). Then along the Gulf road (which no longer exists courtesy of hurricane Ike) swinging due north toward the metropolis of Winnie and Interstate 10 east.
All alone on a narrow country road in a pitch black world until someone came up fast behind, attached themselves to my bumper, bright lights reflecting off my rearview. After several miles I slowed down. He did also. My subsequent acceleration was matched with exactitude. The lady in my GPS told me it was 38 miles to Winnie. I thought she sounded concerned.
A random thought left a tight grip on the wheel as I imagined myself as a young black man returning from college with 2 friends zonked in the back seat, or with my wife cradling our sleeping baby. The image of liquored-up good-ole-boys fondling shotguns in the back of manure-encrusted pickups certainly lingers, and is a favorite of those who sip a crisp chardonnay and smirk at anyone with sunburned arms and fingernails concealing dirt. While such frightening images exist and should never be forgotten, they are somehow never equated with gangs of color that control inner-city neighborhoods and prey on innocents who wander across their imaginary boundaries. Sadly, hate knows no border, and can be found in every corner of our world. Those who believe it exists only on the other side of the philosophical tracks fan its flames as surely as those who roam the streets.
My appendage hung close and as we approached the lights of Winnie and the single track gave way to a four-lane, I hugged right and he swung left. At a stoplight under a street light I spied a geezer, older it seemed than I, and clearly no threat. No harm, no foul, but a ton of perspiration.
#####
Some months ago in pre-dawn darkness (I used to say running, then it was jogging, now just limping along) I was flagged by two husky individuals who asked if I had any money. I slowed long enough to suggest that I did not work out with the family fortune strapped to my back, then continued on, picking up the pace just a bit. They did not pursue. But such chance encounters do tend to focus the mind.
I have a friend whose philosophy is that if accosted, immediately give up whatever is demanded. She has family members who have experienced some unpleasant confrontations, this in a location that prides itself on the security of its citizenry, certainly in comparison to the mean streets of America. Your wallet is not worth your life, I believe she would say. But I wonder in such a situation when you hand over your tangible belongings you also forfeit your humanity? Of course I have no idea how I would react in such a hostile situation, but I do hope that I would emerge with my dignity intact.
#####
About 15” and still snowing this morning. The temperature today will not reach double digits, and as the wind in Georgetown can routinely reach 50 MPH, folks don’t much mention the wind chill factor. They simply stay indoors or bundle up and accept Mother Nature without whine or whimper. Christmas lights abound and will be judged this week. The many small bridges that cross Clear Creek and its several tributaries sport lights and holiday greenery. Gives one a warm feeling despite the harshest winter blast.
…the adventure is at speed and gaining momentum…
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
GEORGETOWN 001
I’m never so content as when I rise before 3am on a crisp morning, leave a bed I have occupied for 6 hours and never will again, wake the night clerk to check out, enter a dark Interstate occupied only by the occasional trucker, find an Oldies station circa 1955, and settle in for a 12+ hour haul. I soon become a Pip or the 4th Vandella supplying Gladys Knight or Martha backup in the “shoo-whop-a-doo” style that defined my youth. The occasional refrain will recall a scene some 5 decades gone – slow dancing with Madelyn Hatz at the Friday night dance, slow dancing with Sandy Smith at the Holy Cross dance, slow dancing with Ruthie Bennett. I lost my interest in dancing when the slow variety ceased currency.
When the station finally fades and static overwhelms the music, I listen as long as possible, and lament the loss of a friend as I reluctantly begin the search for a new strong signal.
At this time of year, rural stations play genuine Christmas carols, not the cutesy tunes that commercialize and secularize the season. At truck stops and rural “filling stations” young girls and old men don white-trimmed red Santa caps, smile and say “Merry Christmas” without guilt. It evokes warm feelings, feelings that don’t come along as often as I recall they used to.
#####
An Econo Lodge in Greenville, IL and next door Mabry’s (10% discount for hotel guests, excluding alcohol and specials). A Belgian framboise on tap, and not a single lite beer! Trendy city Sports Bars and yuppie watering holes feature Miller Genuine Draft (in a bottle, of course), 4 lite beers and Becks or Heinekens. But more and more I run into out-of-the-way spots that feature real beer, like the Keg & Barrel in Hattiesburg, MS with 79 world brews on tap, or Cooter Brown’s near Tulane in New Orleans with over 100 in the keg and some 300+ in bottles. Grimbergen Doppel draught. Yum.
#####
The trip west passed uneventfully until about 5am on November 29, east of Limon, CO on the last leg of the journey. Wet road and snow flurries caused me to back off the accelerator, but all of a sudden I was traveling southeast while the road was paved in a northwesterly direction. Black Ice is something we hear about and are on the lookout for a patch thereof, but in this instance the entire roadway was so anointed.
Even 30 MPH in 4 wheel drive was a challenge, and over the next hour I passed at least a dozen wrecks, some just catawampus off the road, several overturned, all attended by the efficient Colorado State Police and local Rescue Squads. Near Denver the road became snowpacked, a condition certain to drive the Washington, DC driver round-the-bend, but a blessing on the plains of middle America. Traction of any stripe is your friend.
#####
As the first rays of light crossed the morning sky, I caught a majestic “V” of geese on the wing, and suddenly the lead peeled off and drifted to the back, while another took the leadership role. I wondered if this was some sort of Union guaranteed rest period, and whether those in the back could catch a NASCAR-like draft from their harder worker brethren (or sistern) farther front. The kind of sight that makes me smile.
#####
Georgetown (the former mining town in Colorado, not the inside-the-Beltway cocktail party haunt of progressive sophisticates), is home to 1,344 brave souls and now, one eastern immigrant. It sits surrounded by mountains some 10 miles from the Eisenhower Tunnel that insures year round transcontinental travel on all but the nastiest of blizzard days. Loveland ski area, the anti-Aspen of the Centennial State is 10 miles away, the stomping ground of down-home skiers and snowboarders with nary a socialite in sight. I join them tomorrow.
Georgetown has 4 restaurants (American, Mexican, Chinese, and Czech!), 3 Motels, 2 gas stations, and Mothers, a local bar in the finest Wild West tradition (happy hour PBR's for $1.50). No Golden Arches, no martini bars, and the lone gallery features “Western” art. I am home! Ensconced in a delightful apartment at the rear of a curio shop, one block from the main (and only) drag. In the mid 1800s the town was famous for its gold and silver mines. Today it achieves some notoriety when I-70 west of the Eisenhower Tunnel is closed due to blizzard, blowing snow, or avalanche threat. Population can near double and beds become coveted possessions that stranded tourists scramble for, and (say the locals) occasionally become aggressive over.
#####
While securing my membership card at the exceptionally well-appointed local library, I spied a hand-written plea for help at the upcoming Christmas Market. My response evoked a quick and passionate reaction from the volunteer organizer who lamented his annual agony over securing organizational support. “You are in luck,” I enthused. “I have a long and successful history of managing events large and small.” “Can you cook and sell hot dogs?” he asked. I assured him I could learn. My shift begins at 10am this Saturday.
…the adventure is back on track…
When the station finally fades and static overwhelms the music, I listen as long as possible, and lament the loss of a friend as I reluctantly begin the search for a new strong signal.
At this time of year, rural stations play genuine Christmas carols, not the cutesy tunes that commercialize and secularize the season. At truck stops and rural “filling stations” young girls and old men don white-trimmed red Santa caps, smile and say “Merry Christmas” without guilt. It evokes warm feelings, feelings that don’t come along as often as I recall they used to.
#####
An Econo Lodge in Greenville, IL and next door Mabry’s (10% discount for hotel guests, excluding alcohol and specials). A Belgian framboise on tap, and not a single lite beer! Trendy city Sports Bars and yuppie watering holes feature Miller Genuine Draft (in a bottle, of course), 4 lite beers and Becks or Heinekens. But more and more I run into out-of-the-way spots that feature real beer, like the Keg & Barrel in Hattiesburg, MS with 79 world brews on tap, or Cooter Brown’s near Tulane in New Orleans with over 100 in the keg and some 300+ in bottles. Grimbergen Doppel draught. Yum.
#####
The trip west passed uneventfully until about 5am on November 29, east of Limon, CO on the last leg of the journey. Wet road and snow flurries caused me to back off the accelerator, but all of a sudden I was traveling southeast while the road was paved in a northwesterly direction. Black Ice is something we hear about and are on the lookout for a patch thereof, but in this instance the entire roadway was so anointed.
Even 30 MPH in 4 wheel drive was a challenge, and over the next hour I passed at least a dozen wrecks, some just catawampus off the road, several overturned, all attended by the efficient Colorado State Police and local Rescue Squads. Near Denver the road became snowpacked, a condition certain to drive the Washington, DC driver round-the-bend, but a blessing on the plains of middle America. Traction of any stripe is your friend.
#####
As the first rays of light crossed the morning sky, I caught a majestic “V” of geese on the wing, and suddenly the lead peeled off and drifted to the back, while another took the leadership role. I wondered if this was some sort of Union guaranteed rest period, and whether those in the back could catch a NASCAR-like draft from their harder worker brethren (or sistern) farther front. The kind of sight that makes me smile.
#####
Georgetown (the former mining town in Colorado, not the inside-the-Beltway cocktail party haunt of progressive sophisticates), is home to 1,344 brave souls and now, one eastern immigrant. It sits surrounded by mountains some 10 miles from the Eisenhower Tunnel that insures year round transcontinental travel on all but the nastiest of blizzard days. Loveland ski area, the anti-Aspen of the Centennial State is 10 miles away, the stomping ground of down-home skiers and snowboarders with nary a socialite in sight. I join them tomorrow.
Georgetown has 4 restaurants (American, Mexican, Chinese, and Czech!), 3 Motels, 2 gas stations, and Mothers, a local bar in the finest Wild West tradition (happy hour PBR's for $1.50). No Golden Arches, no martini bars, and the lone gallery features “Western” art. I am home! Ensconced in a delightful apartment at the rear of a curio shop, one block from the main (and only) drag. In the mid 1800s the town was famous for its gold and silver mines. Today it achieves some notoriety when I-70 west of the Eisenhower Tunnel is closed due to blizzard, blowing snow, or avalanche threat. Population can near double and beds become coveted possessions that stranded tourists scramble for, and (say the locals) occasionally become aggressive over.
#####
While securing my membership card at the exceptionally well-appointed local library, I spied a hand-written plea for help at the upcoming Christmas Market. My response evoked a quick and passionate reaction from the volunteer organizer who lamented his annual agony over securing organizational support. “You are in luck,” I enthused. “I have a long and successful history of managing events large and small.” “Can you cook and sell hot dogs?” he asked. I assured him I could learn. My shift begins at 10am this Saturday.
…the adventure is back on track…
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