My daughter will now be a single mother. Her husband, the father of my granddaughter, has moved back to his father's house a couple hours away. His limitations, the source of my concern from the beginning of my daughter's relationship with him, led to the separation. In my opinion, he's just not ready to grow up. And I'm not sure it's really his fault. There is a good deal of evidence that there haven't been any grownups in his family in a couple of generations. When a kid grows up with an absent, alcoholic father and a drug addicted mother, neither of whom have ever worked regularly or finished high school, and the church was nowhere to be found in their lives, there just never was much hope.
On the good side, my granddaughter's parents were married. That makes a difference to me, and will, one day, to her, too. And at the time my daughter came home with her baby, she would never have come without the boy. And she needed to come home. So we made the effort, held our breath, and hoped and prayed for a different outcome, but here we are.
The update: our baby has passed 10 pounds. She is now 21 inches long. She smiles constantly, and laughs out loud often at all of us goofy people who make funny faces at her and speak to her in peculiar tones of voice. She especially thinks that her Aunt Em is the funniest human being on the face of the earth. My daughter is working full time, not something to be taken for granted in this economy. They are under our roof, with all of the necessities of life available to them.
There is only one problem: every now and then, the baby goes to visit with her birth grandmother, and when she's gone, none of us know what to do with ourselves. Kaly has become the center of the universe, and her schedule seems to regulate us more than it does her. Even the in-laws come searching when Shannon hasn't showed up for good night baby kisses by a certain hour. We all just sort of sit around forlorn until she is back home. She really is that much fun. And we are all-this whole crazy clan that comprises my family-thankful for the incredible blessing that is having Sara and Kaly home with us.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
One of Those Calls
When you do what I do, and it's 8:00 on Sunday night, and you're at a gathering with your entire family, and your phone rings, it is never a good thing.
It certainly wasn't last Sunday night.
There had been an accident. One of my parishoners was being air-lifted to The Med. Her whole family is in our church, very fine, pillar of the congregation-type people. We all gathered at the hospital. The doctor came in, and as gently as he could, he told her family and friends that she had been in full arrest when she arrived, and even though they tried for a half hour, they never got any response.
An old man from a distant state had made a mistake. He pulled out onto the wrong side of the divided highway that runs through our community. It was a head-on crash at highway speed. The two drivers were killed. Two passengers, the man's wife and my member's son, were spared with scrapes and bruises.
Alicia was 39. Her husband suffers from Multiple Sclerosis. Their children are 12 and 7. Her dad has been in and out of the hospital with heart problems as long as I've known them.
Do I even need to say that it isn't supposed to go like this? Parents should never have to bury their children. Pre-teens aren't supposed to have do deal with this kind of situation. A young husband isn't supposed to have to deal with his illness and his children's future without his partner.
But here we are.
Our Baptist-dominated religious culture wants to say that it's just God's plan. He needed another angel, or it was just her time. My tradition doesn't buy that. We don't see God killing a young woman and an old man to fill seats in the choir. We often hear that we must accept it, and not question and surely not be angry with God. Have you read the Bible? Ever hear of the Exodus? You know, the whole "we'd have been better off to stay slaves in Egypt than be brought out here to die of hunger!" Or, "thirst!" And yet, God was with them and provided what they needed.
I'm not very happy with The Boss right now. But I'm confident that God is big enough to love me through this, and all of Alicia's family that feels about like I do, only much, much worse.
We have a funeral tomorrow afternoon. I'm still struggling for what to say to this family about what's happened to them.
We'll all do our best. And somehow, even if none of us can see how right now, God will be at work, tomorrow and in the days to come, to bring something good out of this awful, awful situation.
It certainly wasn't last Sunday night.
There had been an accident. One of my parishoners was being air-lifted to The Med. Her whole family is in our church, very fine, pillar of the congregation-type people. We all gathered at the hospital. The doctor came in, and as gently as he could, he told her family and friends that she had been in full arrest when she arrived, and even though they tried for a half hour, they never got any response.
An old man from a distant state had made a mistake. He pulled out onto the wrong side of the divided highway that runs through our community. It was a head-on crash at highway speed. The two drivers were killed. Two passengers, the man's wife and my member's son, were spared with scrapes and bruises.
Alicia was 39. Her husband suffers from Multiple Sclerosis. Their children are 12 and 7. Her dad has been in and out of the hospital with heart problems as long as I've known them.
Do I even need to say that it isn't supposed to go like this? Parents should never have to bury their children. Pre-teens aren't supposed to have do deal with this kind of situation. A young husband isn't supposed to have to deal with his illness and his children's future without his partner.
But here we are.
Our Baptist-dominated religious culture wants to say that it's just God's plan. He needed another angel, or it was just her time. My tradition doesn't buy that. We don't see God killing a young woman and an old man to fill seats in the choir. We often hear that we must accept it, and not question and surely not be angry with God. Have you read the Bible? Ever hear of the Exodus? You know, the whole "we'd have been better off to stay slaves in Egypt than be brought out here to die of hunger!" Or, "thirst!" And yet, God was with them and provided what they needed.
I'm not very happy with The Boss right now. But I'm confident that God is big enough to love me through this, and all of Alicia's family that feels about like I do, only much, much worse.
We have a funeral tomorrow afternoon. I'm still struggling for what to say to this family about what's happened to them.
We'll all do our best. And somehow, even if none of us can see how right now, God will be at work, tomorrow and in the days to come, to bring something good out of this awful, awful situation.
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Insomnia's Little Playground
Will Shortz, if that is his real name, is the Crossword Editor for The Old Grey Lady, and puzzlemaster for Liane Hansen's Weekend Edition on Sunday mornings. (Note: my wife would include that my evaluation of the prospects of any given Sunday rest entirely on whether or not Ms. Hansen is at her appointed microphone or away on some specious member station visit with people who don't need her nearly as much as do we who are lurching toward functionality at an unholy hour that was surely not chosen by the God who loves us for the gathering of his people-I fault Paul, and we'd obviously have better attendance if we started after the NFL games were through rather than just as they're starting, but I digress from my digression-we need Liane to guide us smoothly to our alert states, somewhere between the shower and the car. Enough with the member station visits, already!)
Mr. Shortz is also the party responsible, if not for the introduction, then certainly for the popularization of the Japanese number puzzle, Sudoku, in the good ol' US of A. And therein lies my gratitude.
What would a committed insomniac do in this 21st Century without Sudoku? One shudders to consider. Just knowing that those little grids of nine innings-I mean blocks-are there, with their three outs-I mean rows-of mini-grids, where everything is ordered, logical, timeless...just like baseball........oh, pardon my reverie.
I have an enormous appreciation for the Japanese people. They love our national game even more than we do. (No, not the NFL-I didn't say our idolatrous national religion!). They love Bill Murray as proved in Lost in Translation. And they have given occupation to the sleepless everywhere, via Sudoku!
And don't tell anyone, but on a couple of recent nights, a puzzle from a level of skill marked "Insane" actually put me out! God bless you, Puzzle-sans!
Mr. Shortz is also the party responsible, if not for the introduction, then certainly for the popularization of the Japanese number puzzle, Sudoku, in the good ol' US of A. And therein lies my gratitude.
What would a committed insomniac do in this 21st Century without Sudoku? One shudders to consider. Just knowing that those little grids of nine innings-I mean blocks-are there, with their three outs-I mean rows-of mini-grids, where everything is ordered, logical, timeless...just like baseball........oh, pardon my reverie.
I have an enormous appreciation for the Japanese people. They love our national game even more than we do. (No, not the NFL-I didn't say our idolatrous national religion!). They love Bill Murray as proved in Lost in Translation. And they have given occupation to the sleepless everywhere, via Sudoku!
And don't tell anyone, but on a couple of recent nights, a puzzle from a level of skill marked "Insane" actually put me out! God bless you, Puzzle-sans!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
A Professional Perplex
The year is off to a remarkable start, unlike any other I've had in 24 years under appointment. At the seventh Sunday of the year we have six new members. And those six new members have brought 5 children with them. And we have four more adults and 5 children with them lined up for the next couple of weeks. And this year's confirmation class is looking like it will be 17 strong. That's looking hard at 27 new members (17 professions of faith) and 10 for the prep roll by Pentecost (May 31). And our giving in the new year is way, way ahead of last year. Way ahead.
Obviously, anyone could leap to the perfectly logical conclusion that the fabulous preaching, worship leading and teaching that is being done by the pastor explains everything. Sounds right to me. But that's been going on for 3 1/2 years here. Seriously, what gives? The Economy? Most of these newcomers are not as susceptible to the whims of this recession as are a good many others. Fear? If so, they are putting up one hell of a good front.
A more mature colleague (thanks, Dad!) advised to stop trying to explain it and just enjoy it. Maybe the best advice I've received in a long time. But I'm a "why" guy.
They aren't abandoning some other congregation that's in trouble: they are three Southern Baptists, a UM who's a Navy man fresh from Guam, two Lutherans, another UM getting out of the city for our bedroom community, a third UM-a retiree from Iowa, and two long-time in and outs who now want to be officially in. They aren't one age group or economic level. They just all want to be part of our church.
I can't figure it out, but it is, indeed, fun!
Obviously, anyone could leap to the perfectly logical conclusion that the fabulous preaching, worship leading and teaching that is being done by the pastor explains everything. Sounds right to me. But that's been going on for 3 1/2 years here. Seriously, what gives? The Economy? Most of these newcomers are not as susceptible to the whims of this recession as are a good many others. Fear? If so, they are putting up one hell of a good front.
A more mature colleague (thanks, Dad!) advised to stop trying to explain it and just enjoy it. Maybe the best advice I've received in a long time. But I'm a "why" guy.
They aren't abandoning some other congregation that's in trouble: they are three Southern Baptists, a UM who's a Navy man fresh from Guam, two Lutherans, another UM getting out of the city for our bedroom community, a third UM-a retiree from Iowa, and two long-time in and outs who now want to be officially in. They aren't one age group or economic level. They just all want to be part of our church.
I can't figure it out, but it is, indeed, fun!
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Discrimination is Real, But Not Here
Elgin Baylor has filed suit against the NBA and the Los Angeles Clippers, alleging racial and age discrimination.
As both Clippers fans on planet Earth know, Baylor was, for 22 years, the General Manager of the Clips. Donald Sterling, renowned filthy rich tightwad owner of said NBA franchise, acted as something of a pioneer, naming an African-American as GM of a big 4 Major League Sports franchise in 1986. Evidence suggests that Sterling might have felt that Baylor, briefly an NBA head coach with no executive experience, would be less expensive than other, more established basketball execs. Whatever Sterling's motivation, there weren't many blacks serving at that level of the NBA in the mid-1980's.
1986-7 Clippers: 12-70, sixth place
1987-8 Clippers: 17-65, sixth place
1988-9 Clippers: 21-61, seventh place
1989-0 Clippers: 30-52, sixth place
1990-1 Clippers: 31-51, sixth place
Baylor's first five years on the job indicated modest improvement. All the way up to twenty games under .500! Still, Sterling kept him on.
1991-2 Clippers: 45-37, fifth place; lost in the first round of the playoffs
1992-3 Clippers: 41-41, fourth place; lost in the first round of the playoffs
1993-4 Clippers: 27-55, seventh place
1994-5 Clippers: 17-65, seventh place
1995-6 Clippers: 29-53, seventh place
Years six through 10 of the Baylor regime actually saw two, very brief, playoff appearances, but unhappy with that taste of incredible success, Elgin quickly oversaw the Clips return to form. Still, with the two first-round playoff failures, this period marks the most successful part of Baylor's oversight. Need it be pointed out that even with two postseason trips, this time still saw less than two full seasons of victories, and more than three full seasons of defeats?
1996-7 Clippers: 36-46, fifth place
1997-8 Clippers: 17-65, seventh place
1998-9 Clippers: 9-41, seventh place
1999-0 Clippers: 15-67, seventh place
2000-1 Clippers: 31-51, sixth place
108 wins, 270 losses in this spectacular term. The only bright spot: 32 games were not played during the 1998-1999 season, due to a lockout.
2001-2 Clippers: 39-43, fifth place
2002-3 Clippers: 27-55, seventh place
2003-4 Clippers: 28-54, seventh place
2004-5 Clippers: 37-45, third place
2005-6 Clippers: 47-35, second place; lost in playoffs' Western Conference semi-finals (more accurately known as the second round)
Baylor celebrated his 20th season as Clips' GM with his third playoff appearance. This, in the NBA, where every team with breathing bodies (Grizzlies, anyone?) is allowed into the playoffs every year!
2006-7 Clippers: 40-42, fourth place
2007-8 Clippers: 23-59, fifth place
The last two seasons of Baylor modeled his entire career as an executive: one season just below mediocre, the other utterly atrocious.
The only lawsuit that should be filed here is one on behalf of whoever it is that buys tickets to Clippers' games, questioning the mental competence of Mr. Sterling. Elgin Baylor's record of accomplishment in 22 years as the General Manager of the Los Angeles Clippers was 619-1153. Mr. Baylor claims to have been underpaid for his tenure with the Clippers. If he made a dollar, he was overpaid. His suit alleges racism and ageism led to his firing. His lawyers must have never seen an NBA record book.
Elgin Baylor departed from the Clippers on October 8, 2008. It should have happened twenty years earlier.
As both Clippers fans on planet Earth know, Baylor was, for 22 years, the General Manager of the Clips. Donald Sterling, renowned filthy rich tightwad owner of said NBA franchise, acted as something of a pioneer, naming an African-American as GM of a big 4 Major League Sports franchise in 1986. Evidence suggests that Sterling might have felt that Baylor, briefly an NBA head coach with no executive experience, would be less expensive than other, more established basketball execs. Whatever Sterling's motivation, there weren't many blacks serving at that level of the NBA in the mid-1980's.
1986-7 Clippers: 12-70, sixth place
1987-8 Clippers: 17-65, sixth place
1988-9 Clippers: 21-61, seventh place
1989-0 Clippers: 30-52, sixth place
1990-1 Clippers: 31-51, sixth place
Baylor's first five years on the job indicated modest improvement. All the way up to twenty games under .500! Still, Sterling kept him on.
1991-2 Clippers: 45-37, fifth place; lost in the first round of the playoffs
1992-3 Clippers: 41-41, fourth place; lost in the first round of the playoffs
1993-4 Clippers: 27-55, seventh place
1994-5 Clippers: 17-65, seventh place
1995-6 Clippers: 29-53, seventh place
Years six through 10 of the Baylor regime actually saw two, very brief, playoff appearances, but unhappy with that taste of incredible success, Elgin quickly oversaw the Clips return to form. Still, with the two first-round playoff failures, this period marks the most successful part of Baylor's oversight. Need it be pointed out that even with two postseason trips, this time still saw less than two full seasons of victories, and more than three full seasons of defeats?
1996-7 Clippers: 36-46, fifth place
1997-8 Clippers: 17-65, seventh place
1998-9 Clippers: 9-41, seventh place
1999-0 Clippers: 15-67, seventh place
2000-1 Clippers: 31-51, sixth place
108 wins, 270 losses in this spectacular term. The only bright spot: 32 games were not played during the 1998-1999 season, due to a lockout.
2001-2 Clippers: 39-43, fifth place
2002-3 Clippers: 27-55, seventh place
2003-4 Clippers: 28-54, seventh place
2004-5 Clippers: 37-45, third place
2005-6 Clippers: 47-35, second place; lost in playoffs' Western Conference semi-finals (more accurately known as the second round)
Baylor celebrated his 20th season as Clips' GM with his third playoff appearance. This, in the NBA, where every team with breathing bodies (Grizzlies, anyone?) is allowed into the playoffs every year!
2006-7 Clippers: 40-42, fourth place
2007-8 Clippers: 23-59, fifth place
The last two seasons of Baylor modeled his entire career as an executive: one season just below mediocre, the other utterly atrocious.
The only lawsuit that should be filed here is one on behalf of whoever it is that buys tickets to Clippers' games, questioning the mental competence of Mr. Sterling. Elgin Baylor's record of accomplishment in 22 years as the General Manager of the Los Angeles Clippers was 619-1153. Mr. Baylor claims to have been underpaid for his tenure with the Clippers. If he made a dollar, he was overpaid. His suit alleges racism and ageism led to his firing. His lawyers must have never seen an NBA record book.
Elgin Baylor departed from the Clippers on October 8, 2008. It should have happened twenty years earlier.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Well Now; Where to Begin?
I thought about just stopping when my long-standing prayers were answered at noon on January 20.
Naaaaaaaaaaaah!
Truth be told, life got hectic about then. Or a little before.
Did I mention that I have a new granddaughter? I thought I might have.
But then, said granddaughter's mom called to ask if they could come home. All three of them.
Did I mention that we weren't moving in the traditional line on this expanding family thing?
I didn't see that I could have my granddaughter and her unmarried parents living as though they were married under my roof. I shared that with my daughter and her significant other.
They understood.
They agreed.
They shared that they wanted very much to get married. And not, they said, simply because they needed a better place to be with their baby.
My daughter's mother told her she couldn't come home to her house. Said she'd be better off to stay in Lexington. Where they were about to be evicted from their Section 8 trailer. Oh, and by the way, she said they shouldn't get married, either.
Fortunately, none of us pay much attention to what their mother says.
So we planned a wedding in about five days. My wife, my mother and my younger daughter made Sara's day as special as was humanly possible. A friend of two dear friends produced as fabulous a wedding cake as I've ever seen, for an absurdly modest fee. Diana, you're the best; I'll be in your debt for the rest of my life. My partner in leading worship played the piano. Debbie, there's an awful lot I couldn't do without you! And Shannon, Nana and Emily took it from there.
The only problem with Sara's wedding is that Emily saw what we can put together in five days. Her wedding is three years off. She expects planning and execution in accordance with the extra time, God help us!
Then, it was only a matter of whether Sara's grandfathers would make it through conducting the ceremony, and whether I would get the words out in response to that satanic question, "Who gives his little girl to some guy, for him to take care of her instead of you, Dad?"
Oh, you guys who only have sons are such cowards.
I got the words out, somewhat strangled, but audible.
And my first baby became a Mrs. Only 25 days after becoming a Mom. Hey, we got it all done!
They moved in on Sunday night.
The current makeup of our humble abode: Kaly, 4 weeks yesterday; Emily, 20 years next week; Bryan (Mr. Sara), 21 in March; Sara, 22; Me, 48; Shannon, 50; Louise (Shannon's Mom), 85; Bill (Mr. Louise), 86.
I read that that goof in California who had the litter of 8 when she already had 6 more kids wants corporate sponsorships, a book deal, and to sell her movie rights. Whatever. I just want to know when our reality show will start filming. It is by far the most interesting household I've ever been a part of. You wouldn't believe.
Or maybe you would.
All I know is that my older daughter and her little family now have enough to eat, plenty of heat and as much safety as any of us can reasonably expect. And every morning and every night for as long as this lasts (which won't be nearly long enough), I get to hold/feed/change/play with my granddaughter.
And I'd take twice as many people in my house to get that little fringe benefit.
I spent most of January crying and begging The Boss to do something about this situation. I was sure that I'd never get to see Kaly, or Sara...sure I had lost them forever.
Thanks, Boss! For this and so much more, over so very long a time. I feel like I owe you, but I've read the manual. So I'll just offer you the same thanks as over the last 22-plus years: I'll be the best Dad I can, with your help and guidance. Only now, I'll throw in being the best Granddaddy possible, too.
Naaaaaaaaaaaah!
Truth be told, life got hectic about then. Or a little before.
Did I mention that I have a new granddaughter? I thought I might have.
But then, said granddaughter's mom called to ask if they could come home. All three of them.
Did I mention that we weren't moving in the traditional line on this expanding family thing?
I didn't see that I could have my granddaughter and her unmarried parents living as though they were married under my roof. I shared that with my daughter and her significant other.
They understood.
They agreed.
They shared that they wanted very much to get married. And not, they said, simply because they needed a better place to be with their baby.
My daughter's mother told her she couldn't come home to her house. Said she'd be better off to stay in Lexington. Where they were about to be evicted from their Section 8 trailer. Oh, and by the way, she said they shouldn't get married, either.
Fortunately, none of us pay much attention to what their mother says.
So we planned a wedding in about five days. My wife, my mother and my younger daughter made Sara's day as special as was humanly possible. A friend of two dear friends produced as fabulous a wedding cake as I've ever seen, for an absurdly modest fee. Diana, you're the best; I'll be in your debt for the rest of my life. My partner in leading worship played the piano. Debbie, there's an awful lot I couldn't do without you! And Shannon, Nana and Emily took it from there.
The only problem with Sara's wedding is that Emily saw what we can put together in five days. Her wedding is three years off. She expects planning and execution in accordance with the extra time, God help us!
Then, it was only a matter of whether Sara's grandfathers would make it through conducting the ceremony, and whether I would get the words out in response to that satanic question, "Who gives his little girl to some guy, for him to take care of her instead of you, Dad?"
Oh, you guys who only have sons are such cowards.
I got the words out, somewhat strangled, but audible.
And my first baby became a Mrs. Only 25 days after becoming a Mom. Hey, we got it all done!
They moved in on Sunday night.
The current makeup of our humble abode: Kaly, 4 weeks yesterday; Emily, 20 years next week; Bryan (Mr. Sara), 21 in March; Sara, 22; Me, 48; Shannon, 50; Louise (Shannon's Mom), 85; Bill (Mr. Louise), 86.
I read that that goof in California who had the litter of 8 when she already had 6 more kids wants corporate sponsorships, a book deal, and to sell her movie rights. Whatever. I just want to know when our reality show will start filming. It is by far the most interesting household I've ever been a part of. You wouldn't believe.
Or maybe you would.
All I know is that my older daughter and her little family now have enough to eat, plenty of heat and as much safety as any of us can reasonably expect. And every morning and every night for as long as this lasts (which won't be nearly long enough), I get to hold/feed/change/play with my granddaughter.
And I'd take twice as many people in my house to get that little fringe benefit.
I spent most of January crying and begging The Boss to do something about this situation. I was sure that I'd never get to see Kaly, or Sara...sure I had lost them forever.
Thanks, Boss! For this and so much more, over so very long a time. I feel like I owe you, but I've read the manual. So I'll just offer you the same thanks as over the last 22-plus years: I'll be the best Dad I can, with your help and guidance. Only now, I'll throw in being the best Granddaddy possible, too.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Our Long National Nightmare is Over!
So long, Goober!
Adios, Dr. Strangelove!
Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, we're all, finally, after eight long years, free at last!
Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, we're all, finally, after eight long years, free at last!
12 Hours and Counting: The Final Bush Bash Forever!
Shortly, Barack Obama will stand on the dais at the United States Capitol and be sworn in as the 44th President of the United States.
A little while later, George W. Bush will make the one and only positive contribution to our country of his pathetic life: he will get the hell out of Dodge! Not since Richard Milhous Nixon left his slime trail out the back of the White House to the helipad has an American leader left in such disgrace. Almost 80% of the American people now recognize that the current occupier (in every sense of the term) of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue has been a complete and utter failure. To the other, just over 20%, I can only pose the question Frazier Crane put to Cliff at Cheers: "What color is the sky in your world?"
Goober has declared that whether or not we have agreed with his decisions, we must acknowledge that he has made them. Yessiree! The Dark Sith Lord Cheney has proclaimed one last time that if we just knew what he knows, it would all make sense to us. Guess we're still just too damned stupid to get it, huh Dick? Has an American official ever been more appropriately named?
My greatest consolation at this moment of momentous change: my new granddaughter will have no recollection of the embarassment of having those two men, one evil beyond comprehension, the other too stupid to know how bad he really is, as the leaders of our badly, badly damaged nation.
You may rest assured, however, that her grandfather will see to it that she knows the story of the election, inauguration and administration of a highly intelligent man of great integrity who carries the incredibly heavy burden of cleaning out the horribly fouled stall that those two horses' asses have left us.
May God forgive the United States of America for the last eight atrocious years.
And may God guide and protect President Barack Obama for the next eight years.
A little while later, George W. Bush will make the one and only positive contribution to our country of his pathetic life: he will get the hell out of Dodge! Not since Richard Milhous Nixon left his slime trail out the back of the White House to the helipad has an American leader left in such disgrace. Almost 80% of the American people now recognize that the current occupier (in every sense of the term) of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue has been a complete and utter failure. To the other, just over 20%, I can only pose the question Frazier Crane put to Cliff at Cheers: "What color is the sky in your world?"
Goober has declared that whether or not we have agreed with his decisions, we must acknowledge that he has made them. Yessiree! The Dark Sith Lord Cheney has proclaimed one last time that if we just knew what he knows, it would all make sense to us. Guess we're still just too damned stupid to get it, huh Dick? Has an American official ever been more appropriately named?
My greatest consolation at this moment of momentous change: my new granddaughter will have no recollection of the embarassment of having those two men, one evil beyond comprehension, the other too stupid to know how bad he really is, as the leaders of our badly, badly damaged nation.
You may rest assured, however, that her grandfather will see to it that she knows the story of the election, inauguration and administration of a highly intelligent man of great integrity who carries the incredibly heavy burden of cleaning out the horribly fouled stall that those two horses' asses have left us.
May God forgive the United States of America for the last eight atrocious years.
And may God guide and protect President Barack Obama for the next eight years.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Let the Buffoon Go Home Already! Final Bush Bashes, Pt. 2
There is no number of exit interviews that will make George II warm and fuzzy. His only service to the country has been to improve the collective recollection of Jimmy Carter. Carter, by the way, is the genuine Christian disciple that Bush has pretended to be.
There is no way that any final press conferences are going to mine some sort of hidden wisdom that will explain these last eight, dreadful years. Bush has no wisdom. He has proved that over, and over, and over, in every move The Decider has made.
The man is an inarticulate buffoon. He has done all that could be done to destroy every single thing that is good and valuable about this country. He is a murderer, worse than bin Laden. He is arrogant. He is totally unreflective. He is smug. He has ruined the name of this good country throughout the world. He has bankrupted the nation.
And he has done it all in the name of Jesus.
There is a special rung of hell for those who claim to know, but fail to embody anything resembling the Christian faith. George W. Bush will occupy that special place.
It seems at this point that the transition has gone on forever. Barack Obama has a horrific job in front of him.
The good news is that he is not George Bush.
That means, by absolute and total default, that he will be an improvement.
There is no way that any final press conferences are going to mine some sort of hidden wisdom that will explain these last eight, dreadful years. Bush has no wisdom. He has proved that over, and over, and over, in every move The Decider has made.
The man is an inarticulate buffoon. He has done all that could be done to destroy every single thing that is good and valuable about this country. He is a murderer, worse than bin Laden. He is arrogant. He is totally unreflective. He is smug. He has ruined the name of this good country throughout the world. He has bankrupted the nation.
And he has done it all in the name of Jesus.
There is a special rung of hell for those who claim to know, but fail to embody anything resembling the Christian faith. George W. Bush will occupy that special place.
It seems at this point that the transition has gone on forever. Barack Obama has a horrific job in front of him.
The good news is that he is not George Bush.
That means, by absolute and total default, that he will be an improvement.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
WOW! Or, Your Humble Blogger Becomes a Grandfather
This is Kaly.
This is Kaly with her mom.
This is Kaly with her mom and her grandfather.
This is Kaly with her grandmother.
This is Kaly with her great-grandmother.
This is Kaly with her great-grandfather.
This is Kaly with her grandfather again.
This is Kaly with her mom and her Auntie Em.
No kidding!
This is Kaly with her great-uncle.
This is Kaly with her great-aunt.
This is Kaly with her other great-aunt.
This is Kaly with her grandfather again.
Kaly likes her grandfather.
Kaly's grandfather likes having the blog. It lets him choose the pictures!
Kaly's family is glad she's here.
Finally!
ps. Kaly's grandfather knows how to use a computer. Sadly, the Blogger people don't. Sorry about the pathetic arbitrary spaces between photos and captions.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Final Bush Bashes: 34 Days Until the End of an Error
The administration found over $700 billion for the financial institutions. And were devious enough to tie any oversight to assets sold at auction. Which none of the financial institutions are doing. Result: free money! Free to be spent on "retreats" or corporate jets or bonuses to incompetents or any other damned thing striking the fancy of these bozos.
But now Detroit needs help.
Tennessee's junior Senator materialized long enough to propose that any money for the auto makers should include a requirement that the United Auto Workers' members should be forced to take wage cuts to the level of the car plants in the south. Was there ever a clearer statement of the constituency of the modern Republican party?
Citizens whose addresses are on Wall Street, whose bonuses range up to 8 figures (not even counting salaries and stock options), who are getting $700 Billion, are free to answer only to consciences that they apparently don't have. But actual American workers, people who sweat for a living and whose earnings are figured by the hour, have to accept a major hit to see $15 billion in assistance for their companies. That's less than four months of Iraq war money, compared to right at 13 1/2 years of Iraq war money for the financial boys. (I apologize for the math error previously posted. I errantly figured the time at $1 billion per day, when the correct figure is $1 billion per week spent in Iraq. I should never do math in public.) Which also points out that much of this financial/economic crisis/credit crunch has its roots in that godawful war. But I digress.
The Bushies are taking one last run at rewarding the Pioneers, and one last slap at people who have to work. They want to use the "Right to Work" states as the standard. What a fabulous bit of doublespeak that one is! "Right to Work" laws have nothing to do with anyone working. They have only to do with protecting employers from lawsuits when they dismiss people for whatever excuse strikes the Boss' fancy. "Right to Work" laws are political payoffs from people who took sums of money (in campaign contributions) that would make the Illinois Governor blush, directly to the people who made those payoffs. Quid pro quo? You bet your ass!
George W. Bush believes that the United Auto Workers' leadership should sell out their membership, and tie them to the wages of the south's working poor. Hey, they might pull it off. These are the same people who have convinced us rebels that those nasty unions would be an awful thing to get involved with, way down here in Dixie. Yeah, I can see the reasoning. Those terrible unions might get some folks some better wages, overtime pay for overtime worked, better health care, better pensions, safer working conditions...I can see why we'd want to keep them unions out of here!
I saw Phil Silvers on an old What's My Line rerun the other night. They were talking about his old show Sgt. Bilko. We're now watching the last stand of the Commander-in-Chief-Bilker. And we're all the bilkees.
And he didn't even buy us dinner first.
But now Detroit needs help.
Tennessee's junior Senator materialized long enough to propose that any money for the auto makers should include a requirement that the United Auto Workers' members should be forced to take wage cuts to the level of the car plants in the south. Was there ever a clearer statement of the constituency of the modern Republican party?
Citizens whose addresses are on Wall Street, whose bonuses range up to 8 figures (not even counting salaries and stock options), who are getting $700 Billion, are free to answer only to consciences that they apparently don't have. But actual American workers, people who sweat for a living and whose earnings are figured by the hour, have to accept a major hit to see $15 billion in assistance for their companies. That's less than four months of Iraq war money, compared to right at 13 1/2 years of Iraq war money for the financial boys. (I apologize for the math error previously posted. I errantly figured the time at $1 billion per day, when the correct figure is $1 billion per week spent in Iraq. I should never do math in public.) Which also points out that much of this financial/economic crisis/credit crunch has its roots in that godawful war. But I digress.
The Bushies are taking one last run at rewarding the Pioneers, and one last slap at people who have to work. They want to use the "Right to Work" states as the standard. What a fabulous bit of doublespeak that one is! "Right to Work" laws have nothing to do with anyone working. They have only to do with protecting employers from lawsuits when they dismiss people for whatever excuse strikes the Boss' fancy. "Right to Work" laws are political payoffs from people who took sums of money (in campaign contributions) that would make the Illinois Governor blush, directly to the people who made those payoffs. Quid pro quo? You bet your ass!
George W. Bush believes that the United Auto Workers' leadership should sell out their membership, and tie them to the wages of the south's working poor. Hey, they might pull it off. These are the same people who have convinced us rebels that those nasty unions would be an awful thing to get involved with, way down here in Dixie. Yeah, I can see the reasoning. Those terrible unions might get some folks some better wages, overtime pay for overtime worked, better health care, better pensions, safer working conditions...I can see why we'd want to keep them unions out of here!
I saw Phil Silvers on an old What's My Line rerun the other night. They were talking about his old show Sgt. Bilko. We're now watching the last stand of the Commander-in-Chief-Bilker. And we're all the bilkees.
And he didn't even buy us dinner first.
Sensible Sox
Boston Red Sox owner John Henry distributed an email tonight, notifying members of the Boston media that the Sox' pursuit of Mark Teixeira has ended. The message made it plain that when agent Scott Boras, the son of Satan, told Red Sox ownership and management that he had in hand multiple better offers than the 8 years at $184 million that Mr. Henry had put on the table, the Red Sox solons walked.
Bravo!
Hurrah!
Three Cheers!
It looks to me like Mr. Henry brought a whole pile of big old Iraqi-type shoes to throw at the head of Scott Boras, the son of Satan. And I couldn't be prouder!
The claim by Boras, the son of Satan, indicates that someone/s are proposing more years, or more than $23 million per season for the switch-hitting first baseman, late of the Angels. Go ahead, big boy: take it. God bless. And don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!
Either Boras, the son of Satan, is lying again (which is my bet, as his lips were surely moving), or other Major League teams have lost their minds.
The Sox know how risky an eight year deal is. Look up Ramirez, Manny. The Sox know how risky those kinds of dollars are. Look up Drew, J.D. They found their line, stuck to it, and I now have more respect for Theo Epstein, John Henry, Tom Werner and, yes, even Larry Lucchino, than I have ever had before.
We told Scott Boras, the son of Satan, to stick it.
All of baseball needs to tell Scott Boras, the son of Satan, to stick it, permanently.
He, the son of Satan, is feeling his oats after watching Greg Genske get Sabathia's contract, and Darek Braunecker get AJ Burnett's, from the Steinbrenner boys, and figured the Red Sox would be easy prey to manipulate in the ever more expensive game of keeping up with the pinstripes. Not so much. Not this time.
No one except the Yankees can afford to be wrong at those years for those dollars. Even the Red Sox, Mets, Dodgers and Angels would be crippled for years by a contract of that value that didn't produce for the length of the deal.
Scotty, the son of Satan, thought he could play us. If he was bluffing, and calls back, I would reduce the offer by one year and $40 million. And if he doesn't immediately accept, I'd cut it again in 15 minutes.
It is high time that baseball makes it clear to this megalomaniac that he doesn't own the game, he is not bigger than the game, and he will not run the game.
And if, indeed, the Yankees have offered 10 years at $300 million, I hope they sign Tex, and then give Manny an identical deal, and, heck, give Derek Lowe 10 years while you're at it. And then, as your team continues to age and pay people who are broken down for not playing, we'll keep winning World Series with players we draft and develop.
Sorry, Tex. You'd have enjoyed getting a ring next year.
And I'm perfectly delighted to go to war with Mike Lowell and Kevin Youkilis.
Bravo!
Hurrah!
Three Cheers!
It looks to me like Mr. Henry brought a whole pile of big old Iraqi-type shoes to throw at the head of Scott Boras, the son of Satan. And I couldn't be prouder!
The claim by Boras, the son of Satan, indicates that someone/s are proposing more years, or more than $23 million per season for the switch-hitting first baseman, late of the Angels. Go ahead, big boy: take it. God bless. And don't let the door hit you in the ass on your way out!
Either Boras, the son of Satan, is lying again (which is my bet, as his lips were surely moving), or other Major League teams have lost their minds.
The Sox know how risky an eight year deal is. Look up Ramirez, Manny. The Sox know how risky those kinds of dollars are. Look up Drew, J.D. They found their line, stuck to it, and I now have more respect for Theo Epstein, John Henry, Tom Werner and, yes, even Larry Lucchino, than I have ever had before.
We told Scott Boras, the son of Satan, to stick it.
All of baseball needs to tell Scott Boras, the son of Satan, to stick it, permanently.
He, the son of Satan, is feeling his oats after watching Greg Genske get Sabathia's contract, and Darek Braunecker get AJ Burnett's, from the Steinbrenner boys, and figured the Red Sox would be easy prey to manipulate in the ever more expensive game of keeping up with the pinstripes. Not so much. Not this time.
No one except the Yankees can afford to be wrong at those years for those dollars. Even the Red Sox, Mets, Dodgers and Angels would be crippled for years by a contract of that value that didn't produce for the length of the deal.
Scotty, the son of Satan, thought he could play us. If he was bluffing, and calls back, I would reduce the offer by one year and $40 million. And if he doesn't immediately accept, I'd cut it again in 15 minutes.
It is high time that baseball makes it clear to this megalomaniac that he doesn't own the game, he is not bigger than the game, and he will not run the game.
And if, indeed, the Yankees have offered 10 years at $300 million, I hope they sign Tex, and then give Manny an identical deal, and, heck, give Derek Lowe 10 years while you're at it. And then, as your team continues to age and pay people who are broken down for not playing, we'll keep winning World Series with players we draft and develop.
Sorry, Tex. You'd have enjoyed getting a ring next year.
And I'm perfectly delighted to go to war with Mike Lowell and Kevin Youkilis.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Thanks, Yankees!
The Bronx Money Machine has saved the next few years, five specifically, for the Atlanta Braves. Save the "It's not about the money" crap for another day, please: after the Braves offered AJ Burnett $80 million for 5 years, the Yankees bought him for a mere $2.5 million more. Not, mind you, $2.5 million more per season. $2.5 million more over 5 seasons.
Anybody want to try to make the case that $500,000 at that level covers the difference in the cost, and quality, of living between NYC and Hotlanta?
Didn't think so.
But this isn't a loss for the Braves. It is a chance to spend their money reasonably and responsibly on players who can, again, reasonably be expected to perform for the length of the deal. Five years of Mr. Burnett is six DL trips, minimum. And he's aging.
Five years for Burnett makes sense only for the Yankees, for they are the only team in Major League Baseball who can erase that expensive a mistake and never miss a beat.
Count your blessings, Braves' GM Frank Wren! The Steinbrenner boys saved your hide.
Anybody want to try to make the case that $500,000 at that level covers the difference in the cost, and quality, of living between NYC and Hotlanta?
Didn't think so.
But this isn't a loss for the Braves. It is a chance to spend their money reasonably and responsibly on players who can, again, reasonably be expected to perform for the length of the deal. Five years of Mr. Burnett is six DL trips, minimum. And he's aging.
Five years for Burnett makes sense only for the Yankees, for they are the only team in Major League Baseball who can erase that expensive a mistake and never miss a beat.
Count your blessings, Braves' GM Frank Wren! The Steinbrenner boys saved your hide.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Braves New World?
The Atlanta Braves had a couple of cups of coffee with success between their mid-60's move from Milwaukee and the 1986 change that made them the best franchise in Major League Baseball, but for most of that time they were terrible.
After the 1985 season, former manager Bobby Cox left the Toronto Blue Jays to return as the Braves' General Manager. He drafted or traded for Tom Glavine, John Smoltz, Chipper Jones, Jeff Blauser, David Justice, Mark Lemke, Mark Wohlers, Steve Avery and Ron Gant, among others. These players were the foundation for the tremendous run that began in 1991, with General Manager Cox having hired himself to take over as field Manager, clearing the way for Ted Turner to recruit John Schuerholz to follow Cox as GM. Their partnership produced an unprecedented run of success in all of professional sport.
The Braves seemed, at times, ruthless in their decision making. Cox had traded the beloved two-time MVP Dale Murphy to clear the way for David Justice to play. The Cox-Schuerholz team allowed future Hall of Famers Tom Glavine and Greg Maddux to leave when they were adjudged too old and/or too expensive to continue with the team. Ron Gant was banished in, seemingly, the prime of his career. He never had another season to match his Braves success. They dealt quickly and harshly with those who disrupted the clubhouse. They acted swiftly to make trades that made the difference (Fred McGriff) and spent what was necessary to succeed (Glavine, Maddux, Smoltz, the Jones Boys, Andres Galarraga). But their trades were rarely reckless, and their spending was almost always on sure things.
Cox remains in the dugout, but John Schuerholz moved from General Manager to Team President before the 2008 season. Frank Wren was promoted to GM.
The tale may soon be told on Mr. Wren's administration.
The Braves have offered A.J. Burnett a five year, $80 million contract to take over as their ace.
In the 2008-2009 hot stove period, no one in their right mind would ever consider giving Kerry Wood a five year starter's deal for that kind of money. The reports are that Wood is on the verge of a contract with the Cleveland Indians that would pay him $20 million for two years to close. That seems reasonable, as Wood had a good year closing for the Cubs in 2008. His innings were limited as a closer. His career-long injury problems were kept to a minimum. The longest he was down was due to a reported blister problem.
Burnett is six months older than Kerry Wood. And if you compare their career statistics, leaving out 2008, as Wood closed, and Burnett had what, in all likelihood, will prove to be his career year, you find some very interesting comparisons:
Burnett: 69-66, 176 starts, 1155 IP, 988 h, 483 ER, 482 bb, 1047 k, 3.76 ERA
Wood: 72-57, 178 starts, 1128.2 IP, 875 h, 461 ER, 546 bb, 1299 k, 3.68 ERA
Wood has been, marginally at most points, the better pitcher. The tragedy of Kerry Wood, as most fans know, has been the 12 trips to the disabled list. But A.J. Burnett has been on the DL 10 times. Each has had a lost season: 2006 for Wood, 2003 for Burnett. They so closely mirror one another that they each had 4 starts in their lost campaign.
Frank Wren thinks he knows something that no one else, other than the money-means-nothing-to-us New York Yankees, knows.
He better be right, because if he's not, he's going to be saddled with a contract that will cripple the Braves for the next half-decade.
After the 1985 season, former manager Bobby Cox left the Toronto Blue Jays to return as the Braves' General Manager. He drafted or traded for Tom Glavine, John Smoltz, Chipper Jones, Jeff Blauser, David Justice, Mark Lemke, Mark Wohlers, Steve Avery and Ron Gant, among others. These players were the foundation for the tremendous run that began in 1991, with General Manager Cox having hired himself to take over as field Manager, clearing the way for Ted Turner to recruit John Schuerholz to follow Cox as GM. Their partnership produced an unprecedented run of success in all of professional sport.
The Braves seemed, at times, ruthless in their decision making. Cox had traded the beloved two-time MVP Dale Murphy to clear the way for David Justice to play. The Cox-Schuerholz team allowed future Hall of Famers Tom Glavine and Greg Maddux to leave when they were adjudged too old and/or too expensive to continue with the team. Ron Gant was banished in, seemingly, the prime of his career. He never had another season to match his Braves success. They dealt quickly and harshly with those who disrupted the clubhouse. They acted swiftly to make trades that made the difference (Fred McGriff) and spent what was necessary to succeed (Glavine, Maddux, Smoltz, the Jones Boys, Andres Galarraga). But their trades were rarely reckless, and their spending was almost always on sure things.
Cox remains in the dugout, but John Schuerholz moved from General Manager to Team President before the 2008 season. Frank Wren was promoted to GM.
The tale may soon be told on Mr. Wren's administration.
The Braves have offered A.J. Burnett a five year, $80 million contract to take over as their ace.
In the 2008-2009 hot stove period, no one in their right mind would ever consider giving Kerry Wood a five year starter's deal for that kind of money. The reports are that Wood is on the verge of a contract with the Cleveland Indians that would pay him $20 million for two years to close. That seems reasonable, as Wood had a good year closing for the Cubs in 2008. His innings were limited as a closer. His career-long injury problems were kept to a minimum. The longest he was down was due to a reported blister problem.
Burnett is six months older than Kerry Wood. And if you compare their career statistics, leaving out 2008, as Wood closed, and Burnett had what, in all likelihood, will prove to be his career year, you find some very interesting comparisons:
Burnett: 69-66, 176 starts, 1155 IP, 988 h, 483 ER, 482 bb, 1047 k, 3.76 ERA
Wood: 72-57, 178 starts, 1128.2 IP, 875 h, 461 ER, 546 bb, 1299 k, 3.68 ERA
Wood has been, marginally at most points, the better pitcher. The tragedy of Kerry Wood, as most fans know, has been the 12 trips to the disabled list. But A.J. Burnett has been on the DL 10 times. Each has had a lost season: 2006 for Wood, 2003 for Burnett. They so closely mirror one another that they each had 4 starts in their lost campaign.
Frank Wren thinks he knows something that no one else, other than the money-means-nothing-to-us New York Yankees, knows.
He better be right, because if he's not, he's going to be saddled with a contract that will cripple the Braves for the next half-decade.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
Time Heals All Wounds...But This One: 28
I usually turn on the Monday Night Football game. Not tonight.
I usually look at the poster on my wall. Not today.
I often turn the radio up when a certain artist's songs come on. Not right now.
John Lennon died 28 years ago today. Howard Cosell informed the nation during Monday Night Football. Stations go out of their way to play John's music on this date. Yoko issues statements about John's legacy. People hold candlelight vigils.
I don't need it.
I can't take it.
I missed the Beatles. The Kennedys and King were dead by the time I knew the world. But John was The Guy.
John mattered. His opinions and following scared Nixon. There was no more honorable position in my early political awareness than "Nixon Enemy." He scared them so badly they tried to throw him out of the country. The Supreme Court, back when they used to make good decisions, wouldn't let them. It was cool to look up to John. He wasn't embarassing. Ever. Not even on the "Lost Weekend." He spent it with Harry Nilsson, for crying out loud. Don't get cooler than that.
What would John have written about Iraq? How would he have lent his voice to the protest over Bush's destruction of our civil liberties? How might he have shared the move to grandparenting, the new millenium, Obama's election or his ever-growing love for Yoko?
It's too hard, still too painful to think about.
I don't understand, and don't intend to understand, how any person, even a crazy one, can take another life. It just doesn't make sense. But why did it have to be John? Of all the people just taking up space, why the most creative, most powerful, most vibrant figure of his generation, or any since?
28...38...108...I don't need it. I'd like to take December 8 off the calendar. Just eradicate it.
If only that could give him back to us.
I usually look at the poster on my wall. Not today.
I often turn the radio up when a certain artist's songs come on. Not right now.
John Lennon died 28 years ago today. Howard Cosell informed the nation during Monday Night Football. Stations go out of their way to play John's music on this date. Yoko issues statements about John's legacy. People hold candlelight vigils.
I don't need it.
I can't take it.
I missed the Beatles. The Kennedys and King were dead by the time I knew the world. But John was The Guy.
John mattered. His opinions and following scared Nixon. There was no more honorable position in my early political awareness than "Nixon Enemy." He scared them so badly they tried to throw him out of the country. The Supreme Court, back when they used to make good decisions, wouldn't let them. It was cool to look up to John. He wasn't embarassing. Ever. Not even on the "Lost Weekend." He spent it with Harry Nilsson, for crying out loud. Don't get cooler than that.
What would John have written about Iraq? How would he have lent his voice to the protest over Bush's destruction of our civil liberties? How might he have shared the move to grandparenting, the new millenium, Obama's election or his ever-growing love for Yoko?
It's too hard, still too painful to think about.
I don't understand, and don't intend to understand, how any person, even a crazy one, can take another life. It just doesn't make sense. But why did it have to be John? Of all the people just taking up space, why the most creative, most powerful, most vibrant figure of his generation, or any since?
28...38...108...I don't need it. I'd like to take December 8 off the calendar. Just eradicate it.
If only that could give him back to us.
Monday, December 08, 2008
Alma Mater, What's the Matter?
Our college is in trouble.
They need the churches of our little conference to pony up on the plus-side of $500,000 to meet December payroll and get them to the first of the year. Or else.
Let's look back.
In 1982, the Board of Trustees ended a 20-year presidency at the college. It was probably time, but was difficult anyway. Those things always are. (Full disclosure: the man who left the presidency in 1982 became my father-in-law in 2002.) At that point, the college had an 8-figure endowment. They brought in a very, very fine man, who had been a very, very fine Dean at one of our sister institutions. As President of our school, he had been a very fine dean. Decent man, but bland doesn't begin to cover it.
When that term ended, early, the Board wanted someone dynamic and visionary. So they allowed themselves to be played like so many Stradivari, and hired one of the nation's great con men. He spent his time and the College's money chartering planes to China, making donations to Asian institutions which would bestow honorary doctorates upon him, and attempting to remove faculty and staff who asked questions about his shenanigans. Which the Board of Trustees allowed him to continue.
Finally, sobriety returned, and the con man was sent on his way.
Next, another good Dean, the best of the post-1982 group, but a Dean nonetheless.
Finally, Fred Zuker arrived. Fred beautified the campus. He developed a neighborhood association. He got the city to close some streets bounding the campus, so everybody felt safer. Fred's a friendly guy. So he brought some friends with him. And one of them, assigned to the Financial Aid office, handed out bushel baskets full of financial aid that the college did not have. The President fiddled while Rome burned. Now, he's gone too.
And so is the endowment.
The college received just short of $400,000 from the Conference in 2007. It was scheduled to receive a like amount in 2008, and is approved for the same number in 2009. At a time when only 82% of the total apportionment is being paid across the Conference. And, while I haven't seen this year's figures, I'd bet the farm I don't have that it will be lower this year. Bad economy, anyone?
This is a tough time to be in the charitable giving business.
With a few members having lost jobs, others being concerned about possible layoffs, and everyone anxious about where this economic mess will end up, my church's accounts are down for the year. But we still paid our apportionments in full. Yes, that's paid, because my people are such stewards of their United Methodist identity that they make payments monthly, January through October, to satisfy their apportionment in 10 months. No credit to me; that's the way they've done it for years.
Few of our churches perform like mine. Most of those that will pay 100% by the end of the year are scrambling right now to raise the necessary funds. And an ever-increasing number of them will not pay 100%. Some only dream, nostalgically, of reaching that mark.
We are also working right now to support some of our institutions that care for the needy. UM Neighborhood Centers is scrambling to keep the wolf from the door, as is Reelfoot Rural Ministry. The elderly housing agency has jettisoned the poorest of their residences; cost too much to do ministry there, don't you know.
And in the middle of all of this, our college wants help.
It costs $25,000 for one year for one student to attend our college. Let that soak in for a moment.
What percentage of the families that are about to be asked to give to the college can afford to send their children to school there? (More disclosure: I have a step-son in school there. Through a lot of Aid, and by the skin of our teeth, financially. My daughter attends the University of Memphis.) How many underprivileged kids is this church-related college educating? Who, exactly, are they serving in 2008?
I do not relish the idea of losing the college. (Final disclosure: I am an alum, as is my wife, her brother and my parents. My grandfather chaired the Board of Trustees in the late 50' and early 60's. I am grateful for what the college has done for our families.) But I also do not like being told that we, across the Conference, have to produce for the college north of a half-million dollars, on top of a $400,000 apportionment, at a time when most of us are being badgered to pay every nickel in apportionments possible, we're scraping everywhere we can for donations of food, toys and winter clothing for the needy, and, I suspect, most of us in the clergy are foregoing even the cost of living adjustment that would merely keep us even with last year.
The US Constitution does not guarantee CITI Group, AIG or Lehman Brothers the right to run their businesses into the ground with the expectation that the American public would bail them out of holes of their own making afterward. Nor are GM, Ford and Chrysler guaranteed the right to make terrible automobiles, treat their workers as expensive nuisances, and fight every environment-friendly proposal that ever came down the pike, and, again, be bailed out of holes of their own making afterward.
In a like manner, the United Methodist Book of Discipline does not guarantee the Lambuth College Board of Trustees the right to mismanage the school for more than a generation, and expect the churches to then fix their self-inflicted problems for them.
Like the decisions being made in Washington right now, our leaders may choose to obligate us for those bad decisions. But there is one difference that should be noted: the folk in Washington can tell the country how they are going to spend our money, and at least until the next election, there's not one thing we can do about it. On the other hand, there is absolutely no way whatsoever to dictate to those people in the pews that they should bail out the college for 26 years of bad decisions.
They need the churches of our little conference to pony up on the plus-side of $500,000 to meet December payroll and get them to the first of the year. Or else.
Let's look back.
In 1982, the Board of Trustees ended a 20-year presidency at the college. It was probably time, but was difficult anyway. Those things always are. (Full disclosure: the man who left the presidency in 1982 became my father-in-law in 2002.) At that point, the college had an 8-figure endowment. They brought in a very, very fine man, who had been a very, very fine Dean at one of our sister institutions. As President of our school, he had been a very fine dean. Decent man, but bland doesn't begin to cover it.
When that term ended, early, the Board wanted someone dynamic and visionary. So they allowed themselves to be played like so many Stradivari, and hired one of the nation's great con men. He spent his time and the College's money chartering planes to China, making donations to Asian institutions which would bestow honorary doctorates upon him, and attempting to remove faculty and staff who asked questions about his shenanigans. Which the Board of Trustees allowed him to continue.
Finally, sobriety returned, and the con man was sent on his way.
Next, another good Dean, the best of the post-1982 group, but a Dean nonetheless.
Finally, Fred Zuker arrived. Fred beautified the campus. He developed a neighborhood association. He got the city to close some streets bounding the campus, so everybody felt safer. Fred's a friendly guy. So he brought some friends with him. And one of them, assigned to the Financial Aid office, handed out bushel baskets full of financial aid that the college did not have. The President fiddled while Rome burned. Now, he's gone too.
And so is the endowment.
The college received just short of $400,000 from the Conference in 2007. It was scheduled to receive a like amount in 2008, and is approved for the same number in 2009. At a time when only 82% of the total apportionment is being paid across the Conference. And, while I haven't seen this year's figures, I'd bet the farm I don't have that it will be lower this year. Bad economy, anyone?
This is a tough time to be in the charitable giving business.
With a few members having lost jobs, others being concerned about possible layoffs, and everyone anxious about where this economic mess will end up, my church's accounts are down for the year. But we still paid our apportionments in full. Yes, that's paid, because my people are such stewards of their United Methodist identity that they make payments monthly, January through October, to satisfy their apportionment in 10 months. No credit to me; that's the way they've done it for years.
Few of our churches perform like mine. Most of those that will pay 100% by the end of the year are scrambling right now to raise the necessary funds. And an ever-increasing number of them will not pay 100%. Some only dream, nostalgically, of reaching that mark.
We are also working right now to support some of our institutions that care for the needy. UM Neighborhood Centers is scrambling to keep the wolf from the door, as is Reelfoot Rural Ministry. The elderly housing agency has jettisoned the poorest of their residences; cost too much to do ministry there, don't you know.
And in the middle of all of this, our college wants help.
It costs $25,000 for one year for one student to attend our college. Let that soak in for a moment.
What percentage of the families that are about to be asked to give to the college can afford to send their children to school there? (More disclosure: I have a step-son in school there. Through a lot of Aid, and by the skin of our teeth, financially. My daughter attends the University of Memphis.) How many underprivileged kids is this church-related college educating? Who, exactly, are they serving in 2008?
I do not relish the idea of losing the college. (Final disclosure: I am an alum, as is my wife, her brother and my parents. My grandfather chaired the Board of Trustees in the late 50' and early 60's. I am grateful for what the college has done for our families.) But I also do not like being told that we, across the Conference, have to produce for the college north of a half-million dollars, on top of a $400,000 apportionment, at a time when most of us are being badgered to pay every nickel in apportionments possible, we're scraping everywhere we can for donations of food, toys and winter clothing for the needy, and, I suspect, most of us in the clergy are foregoing even the cost of living adjustment that would merely keep us even with last year.
The US Constitution does not guarantee CITI Group, AIG or Lehman Brothers the right to run their businesses into the ground with the expectation that the American public would bail them out of holes of their own making afterward. Nor are GM, Ford and Chrysler guaranteed the right to make terrible automobiles, treat their workers as expensive nuisances, and fight every environment-friendly proposal that ever came down the pike, and, again, be bailed out of holes of their own making afterward.
In a like manner, the United Methodist Book of Discipline does not guarantee the Lambuth College Board of Trustees the right to mismanage the school for more than a generation, and expect the churches to then fix their self-inflicted problems for them.
Like the decisions being made in Washington right now, our leaders may choose to obligate us for those bad decisions. But there is one difference that should be noted: the folk in Washington can tell the country how they are going to spend our money, and at least until the next election, there's not one thing we can do about it. On the other hand, there is absolutely no way whatsoever to dictate to those people in the pews that they should bail out the college for 26 years of bad decisions.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Why the Happiness?
Dustin Pedroia and Tito Francona are overjoyed because of:A) Pedroia's 2007 AL Rookie of the Year Award
B) Winning the 2007 World Series
C) Pedroia's 2008 Gold Glove Award
D) Pedroia's 2008 Silver Slugger Award
E) Pedroia's 2008 AL MVP Award
F) The 6 year (with an option for 2015) contract that the Sox and their Mighty Mite have agreed to today
Answer: All of the above, but especially F!
Monday, December 01, 2008
OK, Now the Truth
I really, really tried to think happy thoughts (see previous post). Like it would help tonight. I may be fooling everybody else. But I'm not fooling me.
Or, at least, not my migraine.
I don't know where these things came from. Neither of my parents are headache sufferers. But as long as I can remember, they come. Changes in the weather. Too much caffeine. Too little. Certain foods, some known to me that I strenuously avoid; others, most certainly, still a mystery. Too little sleep. That last one is murder for a notorious insomniac. The triggers are many, and scattered around through life like little land mines, just waiting for the weight of a footstep.
I stepped on one today.
I'm not even sure which one(s).
That prescription does me no good. Sometimes, when I am awake and recognize the onset, the Excedrin Migraine Strength can mute them a bit. But I have to take it right at the beginning; if the thing gets hold of me, nothing stops it but sleep, and lots of it.
Sleep didn't work today.
If you care about me and get scared over this next part, don't worry. I'm not contemplating. But I do understand why some of the miserable wretches I've read about who have these things go on for a month or longer kill themselves. My worst have lasted about a week. I've had a kidney stone. Didn't hurt like this. I've cut off the end of a finger. No comparison. I've been through a divorce. Not even close, although I don't seem to get as many of them since the end of that marriage.
I can't make the childbirth comparison, obviously, but that's the only thing I can even imagine outpacing this little joy.
The incapacitating nature of the migraine reveals human character to us sufferers. There are, actually, two kinds of people after all: those who get migraines, and those who don't. Those who get them are always, always, always sympathetic to others who know the plight. And those who don't are just as uniformly indifferent to a person in the throes of one.
Our kitchen sink is 50 feet from our bed, through two walls and a door. The drip in that sink sounds like a bass drum surrounding my head when a migraine is in process. The tick of my wife's batter operated clock-on the far wall of our bathroom-sounds like the Sixty Minutes watch amplified by Led Zeppelin's old speaker arrangement. Light-the slightest light, like the clock on the cable box, the "on" light on The Roommate's breathing machine, the alarm clock on the dimmest setting-are spears jammed repeatedly into the eyeball that fronts that particular version of the migraine. Sometimes they are accompanied by violent nausea and flashes of light that are visible only to the one with the headache.
Such has been today.
But tomorrow's another day...
Or, at least, not my migraine.
I don't know where these things came from. Neither of my parents are headache sufferers. But as long as I can remember, they come. Changes in the weather. Too much caffeine. Too little. Certain foods, some known to me that I strenuously avoid; others, most certainly, still a mystery. Too little sleep. That last one is murder for a notorious insomniac. The triggers are many, and scattered around through life like little land mines, just waiting for the weight of a footstep.
I stepped on one today.
I'm not even sure which one(s).
That prescription does me no good. Sometimes, when I am awake and recognize the onset, the Excedrin Migraine Strength can mute them a bit. But I have to take it right at the beginning; if the thing gets hold of me, nothing stops it but sleep, and lots of it.
Sleep didn't work today.
If you care about me and get scared over this next part, don't worry. I'm not contemplating. But I do understand why some of the miserable wretches I've read about who have these things go on for a month or longer kill themselves. My worst have lasted about a week. I've had a kidney stone. Didn't hurt like this. I've cut off the end of a finger. No comparison. I've been through a divorce. Not even close, although I don't seem to get as many of them since the end of that marriage.
I can't make the childbirth comparison, obviously, but that's the only thing I can even imagine outpacing this little joy.
The incapacitating nature of the migraine reveals human character to us sufferers. There are, actually, two kinds of people after all: those who get migraines, and those who don't. Those who get them are always, always, always sympathetic to others who know the plight. And those who don't are just as uniformly indifferent to a person in the throes of one.
Our kitchen sink is 50 feet from our bed, through two walls and a door. The drip in that sink sounds like a bass drum surrounding my head when a migraine is in process. The tick of my wife's batter operated clock-on the far wall of our bathroom-sounds like the Sixty Minutes watch amplified by Led Zeppelin's old speaker arrangement. Light-the slightest light, like the clock on the cable box, the "on" light on The Roommate's breathing machine, the alarm clock on the dimmest setting-are spears jammed repeatedly into the eyeball that fronts that particular version of the migraine. Sometimes they are accompanied by violent nausea and flashes of light that are visible only to the one with the headache.
Such has been today.
But tomorrow's another day...
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