Whistle While You Work

I sit pondering the wisdom of the passage of the ban on "Don't Ask, Don't Tell". Not because I disagree. I just don't think implementation has been thought through yet. Then there is the pork laden Omnibus Bill that is the Democrats' Christmas gift to us. I've never received a slap in the face from a contemptuous body of people before. And you wonder why our cards say "Baah Humbug"!

So I turn to a lighter note. Well, sort of. It is, on occasion nice to hear about a person so happy he breaks out in song. There is a Salvation Army bell ringer at Fred Meyer's who sings carols. He is a joy to behold. I hope he never tries to yodel.

What has that to do with anything? It seems a man in Austria did just that as he was mowing his lawn. By his own admission it was because he was in a great mood. It seems his next door neighbors are Muslim and were in the middle of prayers when he began. Being rash, they immediately thought he was mocking them by imitating the call to prayer!

I've heard yodeling and I've heard the call to prayer. I detect not even a hint of similarity. Maybe I have a tin ear.

All good sense completely disappeared when a judge fined him 800 Euros because he could have been mocking them. Could is the key here!

I'm sorry. This isn't really a fluff piece. It shows just how paranoid the world is becoming. The Muslims automatically thinking they're being mocked. And a judge fining the not so happy yodeler for something he could have intended. It's insanity!

On second thought, I'd like to hear the bell ringer yodel a carol. It would be a hoot. But it wouldn't sound like one.  Even if it did, would an Owl sue?

Another Casualty Of War

He was hailed as "the best and the brightest", Richard Holbrooke. He wanted to be Secretary of State. If indeed he was the best and the brightest perhaps the post should have been his. It was his calling.

He served this country in the area of foreign policy whenever a Democrat held the Presidency. He did it with toughness and determination. What more could we ask of a public servant? He was a warrior.

He was also a casualty of war. The current war. Though not by an IED or rifle fire, he was killed, never-the-less, by the war. Wars. All of them since Vietnam accumulating in his system until, at 69, his constitution could no longer handle the stress. Frustration, fatigue.

He was the strength in what appears to be shaky foreign policy.  Where the President may appear weak to our adversaries, they know they had to face Holbrooke across the table. He was not warm and fuzzy.  No push over there.

His death leaves a huge hole in our negotiating abilities.  Who will take his place?  Who has the stature and, more importantly, the ability and skill to fill his shoes?  Should we prepare for the Taliban and al Qaeda to test our mettle?  I'd not be surprised.

Whether or not he had a premonition that he might not survive his surgery, I do not know.  But when he told his Pakistani surgeon, before he was sedated, that the war must end, it could not have been more clear how he felt.

It's bad enough we're wasting a generation of young soldiers in a battle with no end.  If it's now to the point of taking the same toll on those on the diplomatic side, perhaps it's time to listen.

When Is Enough Enough?

It's difficult to feel sorry for Bernie Madoff, the man who is serving 150 years for having swindled thousands of people of their life savings.  I cannot help, however, having compassion for what he must now be feeling.  The suicide of his son. Consequences can't hit much closer to home than that!

I am disturbed by the reasons why Mark Madoff chose to take his life.  I cannot imagine the pressures he must have felt, being judged guilty  of some unproven crime merely for being a son. The final straw for him seems to have come after learning the court appointed bankruptcy trustee had sued three of his children.

Mark Madoff had four children.  Two with a former wife, ages 16 an 18, and two with his current wife.  Two and four.  Just which three were sued?

I make no apologies for what the elder Madoff did, but it seems to me the bankruptcy trustee is a bit over zealous in his quixotic search for justice.  When people who have not officially been accused of anything are driven to suicide and children are sued, something is amiss.

Bernie Madoff  was caught and found guilty.  He is serving a horrendous price for a 72 year old man.  The monies lost will never be recovered.  Is this type of hounding not criminal in and of itself?  How many more must be ruined or driven beyond before "justice" is served?

Families ~ The End Of An Era?

Ekalaka, MT

We received a card from one of Hub's cousins yesterday. Her Mom was his Aunt.  One of 12 kids. Hub's Mom was the second youngest. With the card was the annual newsletter. I'm not big on newsletters; I've never, ever written one nor expect I ever will.  But when received I do read them.

This particular one struck me as particularly poignant.  How many of us hail from families consisting of 12 kids ~ unless competing for a reality show! There are so many relatives I've never been able to keep track.  We often test ourselves just trying to remember the original twelve!

This cousin and her husband have just left the ranch where they lived for 50 years. To move into town. Into the house that had been her grandmother's and her parent's among others.  Wow.  The house itself must be a treasure trove of history.

I've been reflecting on all the stories I've heard over the years about the ranch in Ekalaka.  I've never been there but have been promised the trip.  An outpost in south eastern Montana where paved roads are rare.

I've heard the stories about the family from Ottumwa, Iowa making the trek west.  Growing up in the sod hut on the prairie.  The stuff of western legend.  Lonesome Dove country.  In truth. The nearest town of any size being Miles City where in the movie Gus died.

The letter told news of family I didn't even know existed.  It told of the reunion held this past summer and gave dates for the 2011 event.  It told of those who have left us. Ah, yes, those who have left us.  Hub is one of the three youngest children of those original dozen and just left his 60s behind.

As I read about more and more people foregoing marriage, the number of children born out of wedlock and the distances now common among family members, I wonder what will become of family as a unit.  As a support mechanism.  It doesn't bode well for the future.

One day someone will find a letter such as the one I now have and wonder what it must have been like.  Having all those people about, helping one another with chores, the tough times, the sorrow, the triumphs, the good cheer - especially around the holidays when families used to gather.

What will be the reality of their times? It might be like my own reality when I set a Christmas table glistening with antique cut glass and sterling silver and wondering what it was like when such was used for more occasions than merely Christmas!  What must it have been like in the days of sleigh rides and snow men.  Harder to be sure but maybe, in it's way, far more rewarding.  It was the era of families.

Our Great Northwest Trek

At the far reaches of Vancouver Island sits the small community of Port McNeill, known mostly to fishermen and yachters who stop over to replenish and refuel on their way to or from Alaska. It is also home to Just Art, a gallery with some of the best Northwest Coast Indian Art to be found.

Over our years of collecting we've become friends with Ron Fraser, the owner. He has been a treasure trove of fine pieces. It helps that he is a hop, skip and jump away from the Fort Rupert Reserve, home to some of the best of the Kwaguilth artists. Having grown up and gone to school with many of them hasn't hurt! The idealness of his situation is that he is there and often gets first crack at the work before the artists have to head for Vancouver, Victoria and beyond.

One such piece is why we took this trip. For months Ron has been trying to sell us a spectacular sun. He couldn't say enough about it. Not having been to Canada for several years, we decided to go have a look just for the heck of it. Our hang up was where to place it without having to strip the house bare or add an addition. Neither is in the game plan.

Off we went early Monday. The weather was cooperative and we even made the 3:15 ferry to Nanaimo, a totally unexpected break. Then mother nature decided to let loose. We retired with it pouring. We awoke to it pouring. The further north we went the harder it rained. I must say I have never driven through anything like it. I should say Hub hadn't. It poured the whole time we were in Port McNeill. Poured!

Funny, we had gone the distance to look at a sun! Well, Ron was right. The piece is spectacular. We searched our souls and our heads as to where it might go. It is the type of piece, for a collector, you'll see but once. We went on our way promising to do some more measuring.

And still it was pouring. All the way back to Nanaimo! We were exhausted.

We no sooner walked into the house and dropped our bags when we looked at each other and agreed there was no way. We were crestfallen. The house, however, is what it is!

We laughed though. There may be a consolation piece waiting in the wings. While there, Mervyn Child brought in a newly completed totem. I think he knew we were coming. Ahem. Because Hub has wanted one for awhile now. This one. This one tells the story of a young boy who makes a deal with raven to gift him with the power to envision the weather! Maybe that's the piece we're meant to have and our next "parade" will not be rained upon!