A & W's 2017

Yes, the A and W's that day in 2017

They went to talk about life all those years they’d seen. 

Since they’d left high school back in Sixty-Eight

And see old friends, hearin’ tales, small and great

In Mesa Arizona they did congregate.

It wasn’t just the Cubs they came to celebrate,

But more likely the stories they would hear told

About lives filled with some new things, some old.

Like gray hairs on Crowls, Sheehan and Beans

Not looking much like themselves as teens.

And then just look at Dirk, Erik and Denny

Among those guys there were changes plenty,

It's just right now I can't think of any.

But, oh there were laughs and stories many.

First, Denny, whose efforts drew us all here,

To the Cubs’ training camp he made us all steer.

Persuasive as always, “we can do it” he insisted.

With that kind of effort, who could have resisted.

Erik wrote he’d handsomely matured

About handsome we’ll just have to take his word.

Maturity’s in question, he’s ridden that bike

Way longer, we’re sure than his wife would like.

We have one guy who loves to talk politics.

Sayin’ those right-wingers are up to their old tricks

Tellin’ us Socialists are the only wise owls

Yep, it sure is nice to see old Crowls.

 Way too long since we’ve seen Bob Sheehan

Up in Sioux City, a good grandpa he’s bein’

About those Cubs he cares not one iota

He’s probably closer to Minnesota.

We’ve all heard a lot about Ol‘ Durk

In Saratoga Springs, the summers he did work

Now retired, there he sits on his kiester,

Says he loves it ‘cept when there’s a Nor’Easter.

Bremner was there from the Eastern Shore,

You might be wondering, just what he wore.

Well, of course, he wore his L.L. Bean’s

What else would serve as good blue jeans

For a guy that they once nicknamed Beans?

Don’t forget Jim Kane and Old Ralph Scafuri,

Ralph worked in hospitals, and Jim before a jury.

Ralph became a doctor, specializing in joints. 

Jim, a lawyer, knows the law’s finer points.

Did you know today they both live in Arizona?

Don’t you think that’s too close to Terry Francona?

And here’s a toast to Tony, John and Eddie

Who left this earth before we were ready,

And to Erik, the Bag and Good Old Hags

We wish they could’ve packed their bags

To join us here in Mesa, hot and sweaty.

Travel Bans, Big Plans, Eagles and Beagles

We’ve Got A Plan

It was at first the president’s grand plan,

It would start out as just a temporary ban

We’ll have the people who Enforce Immigration and Customs

 Just stop all the bad ones, but that’s where the rub comes.

‘Cause how can ICE decide who to welcome or to ban?

And the courts started sayin' "not just anybody can."

But Isn’t Immigration A Kind Of Two-Way Street?

Two ways, it turns out, humanity steadily flows.

So shutting off the current caused a great many woes

It seems you need to know more than one’s birth nation

Or else your choices can cause much consternation.

You see “vetting a process” is not just bein’ on your toes.

Alas, these are families, not just friends or foes.

And What About Those That Are Already Here?

Oh that’s just a simple thing, the costs are minimal

We’ll only send away those that did something criminal

Whoa, but what about “innocent ‘til proven guil-a-ty”

Only the courts have that responsibility

Now all kinds of people crowd ‘round the airport terminal

Not just friends but others whose bonds are familial. 

How Do We Know Who is A Criminal Now?

If crossing the border paperless is not strictly legal,

And a criminal’s one who’s done something illegal.

Then all illegals they find will now be deported

Is the President’s intent here being distorted?

Should our “strength and freedom” evoke the Bald Eagle,

Or is it more like Snoopy the Speechless Beagle?

Just a Couple of Suggestions from a Regular Newspaper Reader

Dear Mr. Editor:

I’d appreciate it very much if you would just hear me out on a couple of suggestions I just want to share with you.

Suggestion 1.  Provide Separate Coverage: 

If you could, Dear Editor, please offer a separate section to cover “Trump News.”  Therein, you might disclose the latest “scandal,” the late-night “Tweets” from the politicians and the other elites like actors, artists, celebrities-celebrated-for- something-we-no-longer-recall, and slanted editorials masquerading as journalism on the subject of Donald Trump.  

Suggestion 2.  Offer Some Traditional Journalism: 

Also, if you can, train some new hires as “journalists.”  Yes, reporters who uphold the principles of the American Society of Newspaper Editors (ASNE) as contained in the ASNE Statement of Principles. 

Interesting piece of work, this Statement of Principles is.  Among other things it includes the following:

In Article I Responsibility “The primary purpose of gathering and distributing news and opinion is to serve the general welfare by informing the people and enabling them to make judgments on the issues of the time.”

It goes on to state in Article IV, “Every effort must be made to assure that the news content is accurate, free from bias and in context, and that all sides are presented fairly.”  Hmmm, I like the sound of that.

Next, Article V Impartiality advises that, while there is nothing that requires “the press to be unquestioning or to refrain from editorial expression. Sound practice, however, demands a clear distinction for the reader between news reports and opinion. Articles that contain opinion or personal interpretation should be clearly identified.”

Lastly, Article V Fair Play requires that “Journalists should respect the rights of people involved in the news, observe the common standards of decency and stand accountable to the public for the fairness and accuracy of their news reports.”

If you could include the work of these “newly trained” new hires in a small section called “Traditional Journalism.” You know, the kind that allows the reader make up his own mind and is both accurate and unbiased.  And, if it’s not too much to ask, let it be impartial—clearly separating reporting of events from editorial opinion—and observe common decency.  And, while I understand just how difficult it would be (and this is why I ask for only a smallish section of your paper), stand accountable for the accuracy of what you say. 

Go ahead and devote the rest of your paper to “celebrity news,” and the latest foibles of Donald Trump and his friends and family.  One more thing, I like what you’ve done with sports—providing a “Scoreboard” that is separate from the latest scandal about sports endorsements, drug use, ridiculous monetary compensation practices, and “celebrity sports news.”  Now this may just be a personal preference, but if you could make the Scoreboard the first page of the sports section, followed by regular columns from a few knowledgeable sports commentators with a sense of humor—WOW! Would I ever like your paper!  (I know, I know, I promised to only offer two suggestions and this sports thing is probably a third one altogether.  Sorry.)   Thanks for listening, even though you probably felt the urge to edit the dickens out of this one from the start.  

Your Subscriber and Reader of Some Parts of Your Paper,

Me

Smokey Robinson Knows What He's Talking About

This year, politicians have created an entirely new approach to the old saw that goes something like this--"How do you know when a politician is lying?"  Oh, that's easy--whenever you see their lips move."  

"Say one thing and do another" has become-"say both things and keep everybody guessing."  With help from our fading memory skills, they can assert that--whatever they actually do--they told us the truth, conveniently ignoring the opposite statement either made by the same person at another time, or that voiced by a representative or subordinate of theirs.

Most of the latter statements arise when the speaker is saying whatever will please the particular audience they are addressing.  The former, it's hard to say.  Apparently this new development also pleases the media, whose spokespersons gleefully report the latest contradiction.  However, they have had to re-learn the lesson about not calling the statements that are, either inconsistent with earlier statements or with the actual facts, “lies."  Use another term, you all, you don't know what was in the mind of the person uttering said statement.  They might only be "inconsistencies," or "contradictions," "misstatements" or "errors."     

In the U. S., it breeds further mistrust of government.  In other countries, who knows?  But seriously, how can this keep up?

Short of an epidemic of senility, amnesia or apathy driven by the obvious one-sidedness of all the media--whether left or right, I don't see how this can go on.  I mean a single gathering of people at the Boeing plant in North Carolina actually produces three different descriptions.  One side views this as no more than a "campaign-like" appearance, where the President returns to the campaign rally persona people liked so well last year.  From another's viewpoint, it was merely a celebration of the creation of new jobs, boosting the area's economy, led by a President happy to have some good news to talk about.  From still another view, it was a show that people in North Carolina still love Trump, even as his administration has hit some bumps in the road as it has tried to get things off the ground.  Oh, and yet there is a 4th viewpoint, this was viewed as a gathering of those who opposed unions, celebrating the almost annual vote rejecting union representation a few weeks ago.  Come on people, report the event and then describe some of the views expressed by those in attendance--don't just portray it from one narrow viewpoint.  

There's another view on these practices--and it all revolves around smoke as a metaphor for speech, e.g., a person misrepresenting the truth or true intent can be said to be blowing smoke.   This next one applies to international relations and I think it can involve smoke, we are sending mixed signals to our friends and our foes.  Looking at the smoke signals they are sending, especially when amplified with smoke and mirrors can be confusing.  It might lead you to ask, what have they been smoking?  Or, like me, you may be experiencing again what it's like when, as the venerable Smokey Robinson put it "the smoke gets in your eyes."   Ok, that was a little "smoke" of my own.  It was really the Platters who recorded it, it just seemed like it might fit.  Blowing a little smoke really, Ain't That Peculiar? (and that last question is really a song that Smokey wrote for Marvin Gaye)

  

   

Do You Subscribe To Unsubscribing?

This morning I unsubscribed from seventeen (17) mailing lists.  This is the second time I have been so mean as to unsubscribe from many of these same devoted correspondents.  Last time, some (a very, very few, I am disappointed to report) were unable to overcome the pain of my stinging rejection, and have not returned.  Others left, but mysteriously returned a couple of months later.  Just letting bygones be bygones, I guess.  Several, I am almost certain, never left.  Now, the nuclear option would be to change my email address and simply disconnect myself entirely.  The trouble with taking that approach is nearly one half of the one hundred twenty-five passwords of which I keep track have an email address as their "User ID."  Now you know--I actually do keep a list (not on my computer) of my various identities with the web sites of the world.  Going to all of those web sites to determine how (or if) I can change my user ID (not password, mind you--user ID) sounds even more boring than unsubscribing to umpteen newsletters/ad messages.

Back to that written list of ID's and passwords--yes, an enterprising burglar could break in and steal all those passwords and my identity.  It seems funny to me that growing up, the only identities I heard about were "secret identities" that Superman, Batman and Spiderman  (and, not to be sexist--Superwoman, Wonder Woman and Supergirl), etc. had assumed, presumably so they could have a little privacy themselves.  Now we all have "identities," which we are expected to keep "secret."  I'm starting to feel pretty important, having a "secret identity."  Is superhero status in my future, or (unbeknownst to me) is it already here? (Hello, i am Unsubscriberman, and no, I don't like the nickname Unsub--that's a fancy name for a suspect on lots of police shows ...)?  

But I've gotten off track.  This was about unsuccessful unsubscribing to which I am unaccustomed.  Until now, I, unsuspecting--as you probably are--had assumed my correspondents would not be so uncooperative (ugh!).  I am giving all of them another chance to drop out of my correspondents list.  My guess is they don't care.  Heck, I'm dumping them anyway, so what do they care what I think of them?  Maybe they don't realize I am on my way to becoming a superhero.

The Place I'm In

The Place I'm In

I live in a place that seems odd to me, if to no one else.  People have flocked here for just over twenty years, which may not seem like a long time to you, but if you do the math this phenomenon began in the century  previous to this one.  I know that doesn't quite sound right, but neither did "the previous century" or "the last century" or "the prior century."  

Either way, it was longer ago than you might have thought.  To my eyes, where they have been flocking to for the past three or four years, the houses resemble each other so much that they almost always bring to mind the lyric from Pete Seeger's cover of "Little Boxes, which was written by Malvina Reynolds even further back in that century I was talking about." The lyric goes on about those "Little Boxes, which were "...all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same."  While some might observe that the Hardi-Plank cement siding that covers all of the houses here, which is made of  a fiber cement that is a composite material made of sand, cement and cellulose fibers is the closest thing to "tacky-tacky" they have ever seen, my brain associates them with the phrase "and they all look just the same."  

It doesn't bother most residents.  They can see it when the sales person drives them around here to show them available lots, and they buy regardless.  It's not that I am looking down my nose at these folks--I bought here, too.  But there's a sameness that seemed to grow as the hundreds of houses built since I moved in a little over a year were occupied (by people all of a "certain age.").  Pete Seeger was singing to these people just as he sang to me back in 1968.  

Each time I drive along the highway leading past this place, I am reminded of a lament I heard from many folks raised in the South.  They waxed nostalgic about the bountiful swamps that lay along both sides of the road in these parts until they were all drained and filled to be used for "homogeneous pine plantations."  Me, I'm a latecomer here and I mourn the loss of the pine plantations replaced by all these little boxes.  (Please note that I resisted the temptation to say I "pined for" the days of those plantations--I guess I didn't resist it after all now).  

Inside the walls of this place (it is surrounded by berms rising above eye level, and the roads in are guarded by manned and unmanned entry gates), there are quite a few odd things, but I won't try to describe them all.  I'll just share today's simple sight.  As we drove home from visiting the beautiful May River to inoculate ourselves against the sameness here, I once again saw just a few of the hundreds of dog owners in this place.  There are so many you might think that a dog is offered as an option available in every model of house here.  I see these folks all walking their dogs, which stop whenever they please--whether it's to lie down to scratch their backs, or relieving themselves to mark some territory, or to do that one thing that signals the end of their trek for the day--taking a poop.  Immediately thereafter you see the owner bending down to pick it up in a plastic bag (ultimately the most immediate, if not most common, form of recycling of said bags), while the dog watches proudly and sniffs, as if to say "pretty good sh-t, huh?"  

Ah, just another marvelous facet of the place I'm in.