…the land of the free and the home of the brave

 

Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock, or only read “People” magazine, you’ve heard that today is the one year anniversary of the transfer of sovereignty in Iraq. I was commenting on this at the office this morning and was bemoaning the fact that our mono-syllabic commander and chief seems to be somewhat “murky” concerning an exit strategy. One of my dear Republican friends made this comment: “Mark, your problem is that you simply aren’t patriotic.”

 

That’s quite an indictment, and it begs the question; “what is patriotism?”

 

The work of the first federal congress from 1789 to 1791 has been referred to as the “birthing of our nation.” I think the analogy of our nation being our collective child is quite apropos. From an historical comparison to the lifespan of other nations, our “child” would be an adolescent; a big, hulking, behemoth of an adolescent, but a teenager none the less.

 

How do you show love to your teenager? Do you correct them when they are wrong, or do you ignore their behavior? Do you try to guide them toward being a productive and responsible adult or do you simply “rubber stamp” every decision they make and adopt the belief that your adolescent is incapable of making a mistake?

 

Somewhere along the way, the notion has been adopted that it is wrong to question the decisions our leaders make, that America is incapable of doing anything wrong, and that patriotism is displayed only by mindlessly following the status quo like lemmings to our deaths.

 

I remember this sentiment being displayed during the Vietnam War with the “America, love it or leave it” bumper stickers. By “love” it meant, “blindly support the war.” It’s happening again. I saw a bumper sticker the other day that read “Our troops don’t need your opinion, they need your prayers.” I don’t disagree that our troops need our prayers, but the very definition of democracy is the freedom to express our opinion, even if it’s an unpopular one.

 

A person who never tries to correct their child would be considered a negligent parent, perhaps even an abusive one. Yet anyone who points to national behavior that they believe is a mistake is “simply unpatriotic.” Has our nation ever made a mistake? Looking through the lens of history we can point to problems like slavery, civil rights, and prisoner internment during WWII…those are only a few. Is the war in Iraq a mistake? I honestly don’t know, but we can be sure that history will tell. 

 

Am I unpatriotic? I asked my friend if he can name all the current cabinet members, if he has voted in every presidential election since he was old enough to vote, if he could even name our Oklahoma senators. I can say yes to all of the above, he couldn’t say yes to any of them, and I’m unpatriotic?

 

I love my country, and I intend to continue to try and be the best parent I can be, and that means voicing my opinion when I think we are headed in the wrong direction. As far as I’m concerned, that makes me a patriot.

DIZZY, MY HEAD IS SPINNING, LIKE A WHIRLPOOL IT NEVER ENDS…

 

Political Spin – It’s been in existence ever since George Washington uttered these famous words; “I cannot tell a lie, I did NOT have sex with that cherry tree.”

 

I certainly understand the need for political spin. We all need to put the best light on a bad situation from time to time. However, there are times where the level of spin that comes out of Washington would put one of our Oklahoma tornados to shame.

 

I read an article today about the release of Senator Robert C. Byrd’s memoir; “Robert C. Byrd: Child of the Appalachian Coalfields.” Let me begin by saying that I admire Byrd. He is a conservative Democrat who is poised to become the longest serving senator in history next June. My son was the recipient of the Robert C. Byrd academic scholarship all four years he was in college, so I actually owe a slightly less emaciated pocketbook to Byrd’s legacy. In his memoir, however, he talks about the one scandal that has plagued his career for the past 40 years - the year he served as an “Exalted Cyclops” in the KKK.  This is where spin reaches Tilt-A-Whirl proportions.

Byrd says his time in the Klan was ”an extraordinarily foolish mistake.” However, he goes on to say that he never resented blacks, Catholics or Jews; he simply failed to ”examine the full meaning and impact of the ugly prejudice behind the positive, pro-American veneer.”

So…are we to believe that he joined the KKK because it sounded like the Boy Scouts and that he didn’t really realize it was a violent, ugly, racist organization? PUUULLLLEEEEZZZZE!  I would have more respect for him if he simply stated the truth which is probably closer to “time, maturity, and experience have taught me that my early views concerning race were wrong, inexcuseable, and immoral, but at that time I just thought it would be fun to go lynch me a few black men.”

I’m beginning to think, however, that Washington might be on to something. If spin is OK for a Washington politician, why shouldn’t we civilians use the same level of spin in our daily lives? With that in mind, I offer some possible ways to use “Washington Spin” to defend situations that people might find themselves in from time to time.

For the child who comes home with an “F” on his report card, I suggest:

“An ‘F’ on my report card is not an indication of failure. In fact, it is a personal statement regarding the inaccuracy of standard grading practices as they relate to the actual progress of my fellow students. Studies indicate that current grading practices discriminate against African-American and Hispanic students as well as give skewed results on the progress of both gifted and marginal students. My ‘F’ is a testament to my social consciousness and my belief that any fellow students who receive an ‘F’ should not be judged for it, or should it adversely affect their sense of self esteem.”

For the alcoholic who falls off the wagon, I suggest:

“My recent return to a life-style marked by the over-consumption of alcohol should not be interpreted as a socially irresponsible act. In fact, while doing stock market research, I discovered that my period of sobriety actually had a negative impact on the stock price of the Thunderbird Wine Company. Dips in stock prices often necessitate the restructuring of an organization which can result in the loss of jobs. The loss of jobs, in turn, has a negative impact on the entire U.S. economy. Therefore, my return to alcoholism should be seen as an act of economic responsibility.”

For the husband who gets caught fooling around, I suggest:

“Sweetheart, the recent evening I spent at the Shady Lanes Motor Inn with the new girl from the office pool should not be construed as a betrayal of our wedding vows. I was actually doing hands-on research into Freud’s Psychosexual Stages of Development as it relates to 22 year old girls so that I might better understand your development history from 20 years ago. I did this in order to be a more understanding, empathetic, and responsive husband. There’s no need to thank me, that’s just the kind of guy I am.”

Spin…if it’s good enough for an 87 year old Senator, its good enough for me.

WAR OF THE WORDS

 

It’s no secret that men and women communicate differently.  That fact, however, was dramatically illustrated for me earlier today.

 

I was standing in line waiting to get on a flight from St. Louis to Louisville when the two women who were standing behind me struck up a conversation. From their exchange it was apparent that they were complete strangers. The conversation began when one of the women remarked about how much she liked the other woman’s purse. The purse owner remarked that she had actually made her purse and had a business in which she made purses for other women. This ignited an extremely animated discussion that continued as they proceeded down the jet way behind me.

 

I’ve taken this particular flight at least 50 times. From take off to touch down the flight only takes 36 minutes. I was planning on judiciously using this time by taking a 36 minute nap. This was not to be, because Chatty Cathy and her friend Verbal Vera sat down directly behind me. I tried my best to tune out their conversation, but I couldn’t do it. It was like witnessing an accident that you really don’t want to look at, but can’t your eyes off of. In the space of that brief 36 minutes the following topics were covered:

 

• The purse maker gave a detailed accounting of her family history and every event in her life leading up to her decision to make purses for a living.
  
• The purse admirer was looking for a purse to take on her upcoming honeymoon which led to a detailed history of her courtship with her fiancé, the manner in which he proposed, all current wedding plans, and her uneasy relationship with her mother-in-law to be.
  
• The purse maker was able to commiserate because she was in her second marriage and she felt her first marriage had failed partially because she was unable to get along with her mother-in-law.
  
• The purse admirer admitted that this would actually be her second marriage as well which led to a detailed accounting of all the reasons her first marriage failed.
  
• Etc, Etc, Etc, ad nauseum.

 

The sheer number of words they managed to speak in this brief period of time was unfathomable. I can only describe it as verbal diarrhea.  I sat there with my eyes closed trying to pretend to be oblivious to their conversation, but I was actually thinking “how can these two women, who have never met each other, be willing to share this level of intimate details about their lives?”  I have male friends that I’ve known since college to whom I would not divulge what my favorite color is because, frankly, that kind of information is simply a little too personal.

 

I did manage to have a meaningful exchange with another male passenger. The gentlemen directly across the aisle from me was also trying to sleep but was unable too because of the verbal onslaught going on behind me. He glanced over at me at one point and we grunted at each other. I dare say that our grunts conveyed as much meaningful information as the entirety of their conversation.

 

I’m purposely being silly. I truly believe that men would be well served if we attempted to be more verbal with the women in our lives, and if we learned to listen beyond the words to the emotion and intent behind them.  I’m afraid I don’t have any magic formula for facilitating this, however.

 

If you have any ideas, grunt at me and let me know.

WITH THIS RING…

 

The wedding has come and gone and it was as beautiful as everyone dreamed it would be. I don’t have any pictures of the actual ceremony yet, but I thought I’d post a few from the rehearsal dinner and the reception. I’ll post more about the wedding soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had the rehearsal dinner at the pool house

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A little pool house peck

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First dance at the reception

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let them eat cake

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One of the few wedding toasts in history with multiple literary references

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last dance

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I just got back from helping move them to Austin, TX, where, of course, they have a third floor apartment, and 4,980 boxes of books. My body hurts so bad at the moment that it’s painful to even type. I’ll post more about the wedding when I’ve recovered.

I realize it’s been awhile since I’ve posted. I did a whirlwind tour of six cites last week, and my son’s wedding is this week so I’m short on “posting time.”  For those of you who read about my trip to New York, I’m happy to report that I didn’t “decorate” a single taxi cab or airline seat on last week’s trip. I’ll be posting soon about my final acclimation into the ranks of those experiencing empty nest syndrome.

EDIT: I just came back from a meeting with my son and his fiance and the pastor of the church they are getting married at. I’m “joint-officiating” the ceremony with this pastor. He is doing the “liturgical” stuff and I’m doing the homily and the vows, pronouncement, etc. For those of you who know what my favorite movie is (which also happens to be my son’s favorite movie), it’s going to take everything in my power not to start the homily with “MAWAAGGEE”.