Best Damn Column Yet, Mo

I quote liberally from "Phony Myths" as follows:

"Karl Rove was impressed with Barack Obama when he first met him. But now he sees him as a 'coolly arrogant' elitist.

"This was Rove’s take on Obama to Republicans at the Capitol Hill Club Monday, according to Christianne Klein of ABC News:

"'Even if you never met him, you know this guy. He’s the guy at the country club with the beautiful date, holding a martini and a cigarette that stands against the wall and makes snide comments about everyone who passes by.'

"Actually, that sounds more like W. [EDITOR'S NOTE: Indeed it does. Especially in the howler, "...and a cigarette that stands against the wall..." If Turd Blossom had said, "and a cigarette, while standing against the wall..." Sounds like Our Tinpot Dictator's murder of English, among of course the least of his 4,000 + crimes of murder, is rubbing off on TB. But Editor digresses. Let Mo continue.]

"The cheap populism is really rich coming from Karl Rove. When was the last time he kicked back with a corncob pipe to watch professional wrestling?

"Rove is trying to spin his myths, as he used to do with such devastating effect, but it won’t work this time. The absurd spectacle of rich white conservatives trying to paint Obama as a watercress sandwich with the crust cut off seems ugly and fake.

"Obama can be aloof and dismissive at times, and he’s certainly self-regarding, carrying the aura of the Ivy faculty club. But isn’t that better than the aura of the country clubs that tried to keep out blacks? It’s ironic, and maybe inevitable, that the first African-American nominee comes across as a prince of privilege. He is, as Leon Wieseltier of The New Republic wrote, not the seed but the flower of the civil rights movement.

"Unlike W., Obama doesn’t have a chip on his shoulder and he doesn’t make a lot of snarky remarks. He tries to stay on a positive keel and see things from the other person’s point of view.

"He’s not Richie Rich, saved time and again by Daddy’s influence and Daddy’s friends, the one who got waved into Yale and Harvard and cushy business deals, who drank too much and snickered at the intellectuals and gave them snide nicknames.

"Obama is the outsider who never really knew his dad and who grew up in modest circumstances, the kid who had to work hard to charm whites and build a life with blacks and step up to the smarty-pants set.

"He might be smoking, but it would be at a cafe, hunched over a New York Times, an Atlantic magazine, his MacBook and some organic fruit-flavored tea, listening to Bob Dylan’s 'Blood on the Tracks' on his iPod.

"Rove was doing a variation on the old William Buckley line: 'I would rather be governed by the first 2,000 names in the Boston telephone book than by the 2,000 members of the Harvard faculty.'

"Conservatives love playing this little game, acting as if the 'elite' Democratic candidates are not in touch with people like themselves, even though the guys doing the attacking — like Rove, Limbaugh, O’Reilly and Hannity — are wealthy and cosseted.

"Haven’t we had enough of this hypocritical comedy of people in the elite disowning their social status for political purposes? The Bushes had to move all the way to Texas from Greenwich to make their blue blood appear more red.

"Everyone who ever became president was in the elite one way or another, including Andrew Jackson.

"Rove and Co. are nervous because they see that Obama, in rejecting public financing, is not going to be a chump, like some past Democratic candidates.

"For some of Obama’s critics, it’s a breathtaking bit of fungible principles, as though Gandhi suddenly donned a Dolce & Gabbana, or Dolce & Mahatma, loincloth.

"But even as the Republicans limn him as John Kerry, as someone who is too haughty and too 'foreign,' Obama is determined not to repeat what Kerry thinks was a big mistake: not having enough money to compete against the Republicans in 2004.

"Charlie Black crassly argued in Fortune that a terrorist attack would 'be a big advantage' for John McCain. And what’s scary is, Black is the smartest adviser McCain’s got.

"It’s hard to believe that if Americans get attacked after all these years of getting strip-searched at the airport, they’re going to be filled with confidence at the performance of the Republicans on national security. And at least Obama wants to catch Osama and doesn’t think he’s getting his directions on war from 'a higher Father.'

"Rove’s mythmaking about Obama won’t fly. If he means that Obama has brains, what’s wrong with that? If he means that Obama is successful, what’s wrong with that? If he means that Obama has education and intellectual sophistication, what’s wrong with that?

"Many of Obama’s traits are the traits that people in the population aspire to.

"It looks as if Rove is on the verge of realizing his dream of creating a permanent position for the Republicans.

"Unfortunately for him, it’s in the minority."

[Editor e-mailed her as follows: "Mo, I'm in love with you! Great column! At last!"]

Update

Although I haven't done anything so noble with my "economic stimulus" check as this lady, I certainly liked the idea.

Note that to my blog I have added the link to the new "Fight the Smears" page at the Obama site, a kind of countermeasure to dirty campaigning -- simply direct rebuttals to outright lying -- that would have been useful since the Willie Horton days of the Dukakis campaign.

Along with the other link that is the Fox News watchdog, debunking their nonstop lies, smears, and innuendo, thus I attempt to do my little bit to disabuse people of some of the buggering of the truth that is out there.

It's damned little, but I try to practice Rule 62, which is not to take myself too seriously. Which reminds me: I used the word "innuendo" above. Do you know what an innuendo is?

Sure you do. It's an Italian suppository. In-you-endo!

Back to the serious for a moment. The very fine journalist, Tim Russert, passed away suddenly this afternoon. Why is it that the good ones always leave us too soon?

Cheerio, mate.

Before I Turn into a Pumpkin

Boob tube is off, fan whispering, Rosie sewing, Rudy sacked out on couch waiting to go sack out in his bed. We watched "Lilies of the Field," the delightfully sappy movie about an African-American guy who builds a chapel for German nuns with the help of several Arizona Chicanos. And with the help of Jesus, of course. (That's pronounced Hay-soose, of course.) It's the movie in which Sid has the nuns singing "Ay-ay-ay-men!" "See the little baby! Lyin' in a manger...") It's convincing! Just like in the movies!

Two guys who turned out to be high school friends of Amanda removed two ailing trees from our lot today. Double the sunshine now, and I'm going to plant some nice trees to replace the one in front. The guys, Ryan and Jason, did a great job.

My neighbor (who I'd thought ill of at times) found a hubcap for me and placed it on the car. Nice kids. They'll be leaving soon. He's going to manage a store in Nap Town.

Good to see Natalie's posts.

Politics and my frat, Alpha Alpha: those continue to be the principal activities.

Love to all.

I feel myself turning orange ... Poof!

Waiting Until June 20, I Guess -- Or Later?

Senator Clinton said she will continue her campaign "until there is a nominee." I flinch every time she wins a primary and she is likely to win two more (Kentucky and West Virginia) and I am superstitious and cautious about counting chickens before they're hatched. But the media are now calling Barack Obama "the presumptive nominee." The double-digit win in North Carolina and the narrow "defeat"* in Indiana clinched the nomination for him, they say. I will withhold rejoicing until he is nominated.

*As for my part in the Indiana results -- well, Jefferson County went 66% for Hillary. Guess my campaigning was not all that fruitful.

Obama Rally in Nap Town

My friends and family -- for it is you for whom I write this blog -- last night three friends and I went to the Obama rally in Indianapolis. I said I could become an Obama rally junkie. It was a positive experience. Senator Obama did not trash anybody or call anybody names or ridicule or belittle or threaten anybody. He said what he intends to do as president. It was an uplifting experience for me and I think for my friends. He asked us to vote today out of hope, not fear. That is just what I am going to do. God bless all who read this. I hope by writing this blog I can "appeal to your better angels." Amen.

Campaign Worker

This is a first for me: knocking on doors, "cold calls," to pitch for my candidate. I agreed to do so on two days for four hours each. Today, Saturday, was my first stint, and I've been anxious about it for days. I had two medical procedures this week (one up my nose and one up my anus) and they left me rather wrung out and I've had trouble walking because of a heel spur, and I am old and out of shape. In other words, I just didn't know if I would be able to do it today or not. Besides that, would I encounter hostility? Insults? Tirades? Even threats?

I woke very early this morning as I usually do when something is coming up and it's brewing inside me but I managed to get back to sleep until almost nine. I got ready and showed up at the home of a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer, Emeka (this one second generation -- he was born in Nigeria to parents who were both PCVs and given an Ibo name), where I met with a handful of volunteers. I knew Emeka and his wife Jill; Bert, who is also a returned PCV; Bert's wife, Alice, who I worked with at the local newspaper nearly forty years ago and also at the state hospital for several years; and Jerry Y., a master librarian. We met on the upstairs screened back porch of Emeka and Jill's house on West Third Street, with Springdale Cemetery and the green hills to the north as a view. It was breezy and had rained last night and at the moment my khaki cotton twill Chicago commuters' jacket with a short-sleeved shirt felt good. All of those I mentioned and others, including a woman of 81, chattered excitedly as we gathered and had coffee before work. One lady said some very religious people were going to vote against Baron Hill because he had endorsed Barack Obama. Tsk, tsk.

A young woman named Lauren, who is to graduate this year from Indiana University of Pennsylvania, who worked as a volunteer in the Keystone State, and who has been promoted to a paid worker, gave us our walking beats, with specific names and addresses. My assignment was in the vicinity of Wal-Mart, in apartments on Ovo Drive (in back of Head Start) and in the subsidized Windridge apartments, and also on Bellaire, Crestwood, and Cedarwood Drives, all in upper Madison.

I put a round Obama sticker on my shirt and headed off hopefully in my 265K beater with the Obama '08 magnets on the trunk and sans one hubcap (owing to the big doe who hit me a couple of months ago). Might pass for a non-elitist except for the car's Japanese provenance and its excellent gas mileage. (Settle down!)

First person I saw in the Ovo Drive apartment compound was a young hero getting out of a Jeep Cherokee. I asked him for directions and then, "Are you registered?" He said he wasn't because of the "fools," clarifying he meant the two Democratic candidates. He said he is a Republican and would vote for McCain. OK. Will this be hard going?

I found the first apartment and no one was at home. Then the second: a young woman, neatly attired, perhaps a little overly made up (unneeded given her lovely face) promptly answered, a little girl by her side. She said she was registered and was going to vote for Obama, smiling sweetly and reassuringly. Bingo! I told her she was the very first person I'd ever contacted as a campaign volunteer. Which was true. (Oh right. An old coot like you? You've been doing this for 200 years. Or so I speculate she was thinking.)

In these hardscrabble housing places I found that many people were not at home and many had moved. Some buildings were dirtier than others; stair handrails were sticky, floors grimy and littered. Most who answered were in their twenties and early thirties, mostly women. One young man answered from behind the door, "Who is it?" I laughed and said, "I'm not a cop. Or a salesman or a bill collector." He opened the door and said, "How can I help you?" I stated my business and gave him the Obama flyer, although he was not the person on my list. She didn't live there anymore.

I knocked on every door on the list and either met somebody and pitched to them or marked "not at home" on my sheet. I forgot to leave flyers at the places where I got no answer. I finished just before noon, listening at length to a sixtyish woman who launched a diatribe about the immorality of the Clintons and "this black-white thing with Obama." I asked her (just a hint of challenge in my voice) what she meant by the "black-white thing." But I knew what she meant. I said that she had a clear choice in McCain. We'd always had white men in the office and she could vote for a white man again. Happily I told her I had to meet somebody for lunch and got the hell out of there. I flashed a phony smile as I turned on my heel and left. Bitch.

At Frisch's, over lunch Jerry Y. and I discussed our excellent adventures of the morning. He'd gotten into all kinds of discussions about gay people and whether Barack was a Muslim (thanks for the "madrassa" shit, Sean Hannity et al.) and all kinds of convoluted stuff. He said as a librarian, he was inclined to give people answers when they asked questions. Except that as a psychologist (erstwhile), I am aware that sometimes people aren't really asking questions for which they are seeking information but instead asking questions they think they already know the answers to in order to confront you. We had a good lunch and good fellowship and went back out for two more hours.

This time I went to the other side of Michigan Road, where individual family dwellings are, and puzzled out the house-numbering of the three streets of Bellaire, Cedarwood, and Crestwood, parking the car and walking. The sun had steadily fought its way out of the clouds and it was warm and pretty. People working and sitting outside were friendly. My heel is a little sore now but not as bad as it has been. It's getting better. I probably saw 35 people all day and fewer than ten said they were Obama supporters, yet I regard that as really worthwhile: in baseball, batting .300 is good. Might even win you the title some years.

I saw a man my age who has been a teacher at Shawe and who tragically lost a leg (both legs?) to cancer and reminded him we had played baseball under the bridge over fifty years ago. Of the Shawe kids, I said, "They really love you, Jim." And I did too. And he is going to vote for Obama! So is his son, who lives in Nap Town and was there for the weekend. (The son, incidentally, favors one of my favorite comedians, Chris Elliott, though I doubt he'd be flattered).

Returned to "campaign headquarters" at Emeka's, where folks were unwinding and finishing up lunches of delicious chicken. I had one piece and a fruit jar of water and it was a great second lunch. I hadn't completed my list and promised to get back to it on Monday, and will try to phone people I couldn't reach in person.

It occurred to me as I was making my rounds in the morning that I felt like I was on something of a religious quest, and I said the best prayer I could for what I would like to see happen and what I believe would be best for our nation and the world to happen.

I left Emeka's and came home and tried to crash but couldn't. Tonight we went to Hanover College to meet with Baron Hill and Lee Hamilton, who have both endorsed Obama. They spoke confidently of this good young man as presidential, "commander in chief and leader of the free world," to use Lee's words. Baron was the most eloquent I have ever heard him, and I told him so. He beamed. Lee said that Obama has been dismissed by his opponents for "just words," but Lee said that all our good presidents were notable for their uplifting words as well as their deeds. (Writing now, it occurs to me that there's satire pointing up truths in Letterman's "Great Moments in Presidential Speeches.")

Rosie and I left there and ate too much pizza* and came home.

It's been a good day. Amen.

*Oh yes! While we were at the pizza joint the table next to us filled up with 30-something guys. "Medium," a silly drama about a clairvoyant who is always sitting bolt upright in bed waking from some portentous nightmare, was on the boob tube. One of the guys went to the TV and started surfing, looking for what turned out to be a pro BB game (Orlando-Detroit?). While he was going through 40 channels or so, he caught -- you guessed it -- the Reverend Jeremiah Wright in his dashiki chopping the air and swearing "God damn America!" from the pulpit. This was Saturday night at nine o'clock.

Will it never die?

Not until Barack finishes his second term in 2017!

In the meantime, thank God for TV remotes! Thank God for classical music and walks in the fresh air and sunshine, and good conversation and all our other blessings.

Amen.

Take a Rain Check on That, Clark

Mo, you're right: Wright is not only a "wackadoodle," he is a flaming egotist who has himself discredited all his learned and compassionate talk with Bill Moyers last Friday. He is not only saying "God damn America" in the abstract, he is saying "God damn America and everybody in it who doesn't recognize me as the supreme last word on the black church in America and God damn Barack Obama the politician," even though Obama has been the best hope for America as a presidential candidate who has had a real chance to take us at last in a direction we all hunger for.

I've seen a press conference in which Barack reluctantly denounced Wright's barnstorming tour of egotism of the last few days, and it's clear that the infantile behavior of the man has taken a lot of fight out of Barack. I know why. Barack said this:

"I have spent my entire adult life trying to bridge the gap between different kinds of people. That's in my DNA, trying to promote mutual understanding to insist that we all share common hopes and common dreams as Americans and as human beings. That's who I am, that's what I believe, and that's what this campaign has been about."

I fear that those words are going to be this good man's epitaph. I wish it were not so but I don't believe in miracles the way I once did.

Two other African-Americans, Gene Robertson in the Washington post and Bob Herbert in the New York Times, have said that Reverend Wright does not speak for them or for most of the black community but for himself. E.J. Dionne in the Post said that the campaign has shrunk from a great to a small one.

Small campaigns for small people. The chickens have come home to roost, indeed. The press eats this shit up and we eat it up. We get what we deserve.

Footnote: By the way, even though I damn Wright for his wackadoodle behavior, I believe that he has been rendered wacky by the endless loop sound-bite of his sermons that have dismissed and caricatured the man. In his shoes I think I'd do the same thing he has done. The chickens have come home to roost. R.I.P.

The Media Strike Again

Mo, Dear Mo, you are as shallow as the 24/7 Fixed Noise people when all you get out of -- or all you choose to report of -- Reverend Wright's interview by Bill Moyers is that he totally damned Barack -- or so you would like to leave the impression he did, by lifting the sound bite about sic semper "politicians" -- and ignoring everything else. But he's a "wackadoodle" -- isn't he? -- so you can dismiss all he said and all that was reported of the distinguished life of this intelligent, learned, righteous, patriotic man. And by the way, I saw Barack in person a few days ago and he was bubbly as ever. I noted you commented on his clothes. At least no earth tones. Hillary get her pantsuits from Penney's? Where does McCain get his clothes? Navy surplus? Get a life, Mo. Be relevant. I know you can.

Irked but hoping the best is yet to come,
J.T. Evans

Also, Elizabeth Edwards (yes, wife of Senator John Edwards) had an excellent op-ed worth one's attention. It was about the lame-brained media's inability to investigate and report on things of vital interest to the citizens of this nation.

Reverend Wright with Bill Moyers

Here is the transcript of the interview of the Reverend Jeremiah Wright by Bill Moyers on the April 25th airing of Bill Moyers' journal. Please read it. This good, learned, righteous, patriotic man is an asset to Barack Obama, not a liability. His words were inspiring to me.

Reply to a Loved One about the Town Hall Meeting

Glad you enjoyed the post. I enjoyed writing it and am grateful for the response I got. I wish there were a downtown office in Madison where I could go and volunteer for Barack twelve hours a day. It felt really wonderful to be there with the people. It was a time of peace and harmony and joy. I'm glad I went.

I think Barack very much wants to take the high road and he is, as he says, kept from doing so by "distractions." He's taking a lot of hits right now from the media, who think they are being "fair and balanced" because the Clintons have accused them of being easy on him and hard on them. The Clintons are like Bobby Knight, who was always yelling at and intimidating the refs to try to influence their calls.

I mentioned the race of people at the gathering and I was thinking about it. The population of Indiana is 9% black, which is less than the total national proportion, which is maybe 12% now, and I guessed that maybe 20-30% of the folks at the town hall meeting were black, and there might have been more than that. Yes, I am very aware of race, and I think it's time we integrated this land and got together and did away with all the irrelevant nonsense. The media are shit-stirrers (note my mention of Chris Matthews, one of the worst) and are trying to see problems and divisions where none exist -- so they will have something to talk about between commercials. If you want to know how I feel about race, read the speech that Barack wrote, or better yet, watch and listen to it. I loved Barack when he defended the Reverend Wright, saying, "I can no more disown him than I can disown the African-American community." That was what a "mensch" -- a good, moral, courageous person -- would do. Honestly, I believe all the other candidates of recent times -- especially Hillary Clinton -- would disown a friend and mentor, who had been damned in one endlessly aired sound-bite which distorted and misrepresented the truth, and would disown him in a New York minute. At least for the public record.

A Face in the Crowd

4/23/2008. Half-past ten. In the midst of the Obama crowd. I'm glad I came. Festive. Maybe it's time to party at last!

The place is filling up, the gym at IU Southeast in New Albany. Got here soon after nine o'clock and a long queue had already formed in the parking lot. I got in line and soon a Courier-Journal reporter interviewed a lady next to me and then me. Finally! My first ink in the C-J, maybe. She asked me if Barack might do something which would ensure my vote. My reply: "Choose Lee Hamilton for Vice President or Secretary of State."

Stood two hours in the bright, increasingly warm sun. Quite pleasant, but glad I had my hat because my hair is getting thin at the crown of my scalp, as Mandy warned me last year.

Visited with a couple probably in their mid-fifties, white, who were probably of my ilk: watchers of Countdown, among other things. The woman particularly disliked Hillary. She asked me if I would vote for Hillary should the old girl get the nomination instead of Barack and I said I would -- given the truly gruesome alternative -- but would be damned unhappy about it. I hope the question soon becomes moot. [*See below.]

Gorgeous spring day. The doors stand open and people keep filing in. Redbud blooms are splendid this year. A corridor of redbud runs along Indiana Road 3 for miles before it reaches Charlestown. It just so happens that a detour has routed traffic along it on the route to the Falls Cities. I gobbled up the eye candy en route to the town hall meeting this morning. A joy I can't describe, let alone explain.

Young woman with a tot, both of them sitting on the asphalt, give me a bottle of water. I offer to pay her but she refuses. Came here without sense enough to have brought even a drink. Haven't broken fast today and I hope I'm not one of those unfortunates to pass out. I DOUBT IT: I can live on my fat for six months.

All kinds of people, all sizes and shapes and colors. Young, old, black, white. Plenty of older whites like me. Couple of kids from Corydon in the lot: one confesses he ditched today. I say I won't tell. Field trips are educational too. They ask us to save their place while they go smoke. I say I will if they quit. They promise. It's at the top of their list. I reflect that my step-grandson, Bee Jay, couldn't spell politics until Barack. Now he's informed on the issues and talks animatedly about them. (He's a father now, Rosie a great-grandmother -- Magnolia Reid Elles, "Maggie," b. 2008-April-05.)

Haven't seen anyone from Madison. Not surprised and not greatly disappointed. Sure the Democrats there all fell in love with Hillary when they saw her knocking back a shot and a beer and talking guns and shit. She's just one of the boys with her $109 million last year. Of course I'm an elitist. Don't deny it. I stand apart in pity and look at real men vote against their economic interests because the Republicans AND HILLARY distract them with ... distractions. They take the bait every time. It is really, really sad.

Well, if Barack doesn't win we're going to be *Bushed!* again by one or the other of his opponents for the foreseeable future. They will be whores to the special interests in a way I believe Barack will not. God help us.

***

Woke at 6:55 by the alarm clock, a rare experience. Was able to get my e-ticket printed. Had tea with milk and sugar, and poured some coffee to take with me but didn't remember to drink any of it until I was almost here and it was cold. Got away c. eight and took the detour (356 & 203 & 3) back to 62, then came across the Lee H. Hamilton Hwy & I was here.

Several vendors were selling T-shirts and campaign buttons. Noble-poor, I bought none, although there were some neat ones. One or two people were campaigning for themselves, one a Libertarian. His son gave me a pencil. I thanked him.

Lots of security. A cop outside had a German shepherd to sniff bombs or whatever but he (she) looked too happy and playful to help much. I see one secret service guy with his spiral white cord behind his left ear. He too seems amiable and not menacing. Went through metal detectors, like at the airport.

Many good-looking women of all ages. That's always a plus for me. Particularly struck by a pink-complexioned blonde, Scandinavian looks, perfect, traipsing around trying to sign up volunteers. I ask her if she's a Democrat. She says, "I'm a liberal Democrat." I say I am too and tell her I wish there were more like her at Hanover College. "Maybe they're beginning to wake up and smell the coffee," I say. "I hope so," she says, and smiles.

I guess the only person I will recognize as soon as I see him will be Barack. Suppose it's just as well. I visit with a tall, well-built African-American man, with generous gray in his hair and a Bible and a Daily Bread devotional booklet. He has a front tooth with a silver cap. He is a minister. He asks me if I have a church home. I talk about my religious journey. He listens and does not judge. I like him and am sure the feeling is mutual. He is informed on the issues and is committed to Barack.

It's 11:18 and they're still coming into this gym and there's a good bit of room yet, although the really choice seats are pretty well gone. Hell, I could have had a good breakfast and taken my time.

I think I've seen only one Latino -- Latina, actually, young, nearby. Many African-Americans. And of course the TV yakkers (morons all) will say that that is the reason for Barack's appeal.

It just now occurs that a perfect person to have come with me today would have been Warnie. Wish I'd thought of him before now.

Actually, I think the "Latina" is Asian.

Enough. Enough of the electioneering. Leave that to Chris Matthews and the rest of the morons. What will be, will be.

CNN & the locals are here to televise. Rock music playing on the p.a. Sounds good. But no Jimmy Smith. Barack and Michelle probably don't listen to Jimmy Smith. Would they not know who he is?** Chicago? Highly educated? Active in the community? I'd bet even money they do know who he is.

**[There was an organ rendition of "America" playing and I said to the pastor that I'd like to hear it by Jimmy Smith. He didn't know who Jimmy Smith was! I asked the girl beside me, black, if she knew who Jimmy Smith was. She didn't. I have a lot to learn myself. A white girl in front was half-in on the chatter and she didn't know either. I got a laugh from them all by standing up and yelling "Does anybody here know who Jimmy Smith is?" I didn't really "yell," just pretended to, cupping my hands around my mouth like a megaphone. The white girl said she'd like it if John Mellencamp were here to warm up the crowd. (He has been for both Hillary and Barack.) Everybody knew who John Mellencamp was. And I'm sure the pastor more nearly my age would know Motown names if I mentioned them (except I don't know very many).] Excuse this digression, which I added later.

I didn't write any more after that, i.e. at IUS, in my spiral-bound notebook with my fountain pen. Had no intention to when my main man showed.

He did, and the buildup was exciting. He had an adoring crowd and he did great. The particulars are in the C-J story I mentioned above. His talk was not directed at trashing Hillary. He mentioned her as his opponent in the primary but he is already focusing on John McCain's shortcomings and he was convincing. He answered questions fully and clearly. He looked and sounded presidential to me. It was a great experience for this old Peace Corpse, reminiscent of the youthful excitement we felt when JFK was in his glory. I long for my lost youth and would like to be a tireless campaign worker for "the skinny kid with the funny name."

* One sour note. An editorial in the New York Times on April 23rd, "The Low Road to Victory," needs attention paid to it. It speaks for itself.

Bumper Stickers and Sound Bites. And Games

I find others who put an idea I have much better than I can and present it to you, gentle reader. I like the blog by Stanley Fish, Think Again, which appears in the New York Times from time to time, and I particularly like what he wrote yesterday, which I quote (too extensively) from:

"It is not my job either to defend or repudiate every statement made by someone I know. Neither my integrity nor my life’s work depend on my clearing myself of suspicions provoked by the words of others. ...

"In politics, and in much of the rest of life, being held responsible for your own words comes with the territory. Once you’ve opened your big mouth, others have a perfect right to ask, 'Do you really mean that?' or 'What did you mean by that?' or 'If you say that, would you also say…?' ... But why should you be held responsible for words spoken by someone else ...?

"Yet this is the position we routinely place our public figures in. The demand that Barack Obama denounce and renounce his pastor, who delivered himself of sentiments a million miles from anything Obama has ever said, is only the latest and most publicized example. ...

"This denouncing and renouncing game is simply not serious. It is a media-staged theater, produced not in response to genuine concerns – no one thinks that Obama is unpatriotic or that Clinton is a racist or that McCain is a right-wing bigot – but in response to the needs of a news cycle. First you do the outrage (did you see what X said?), then you put the question to the candidate (do you hereby denounce and renounce?), then you have a debate on the answer (Did he go far enough? Has she shut her husband up?), and then you do endless polls that quickly become the basis of a new round.

"Meanwhile, the things the candidates themselves are saying about really important matters – war, the economy, health care, the environment – are put on the back-burner until the side show is over, though the odds are that a new one will start up immediately. ...

"...Usually we denounce our opponents, not our friends or associates or loved ones (unless we are living in a totalitarian state where denunciations are offered as proof of loyalty). So it seems overly dramatic to denounce a supporter because he or she has uttered an opinion you find distasteful. Better to say something mild and nuanced – I don’t agree with that, but I’m not going to turn my back on someone because of a few unfortunate remarks – and get on with the real business at hand.

"That is what Obama did in his justly praised speech. He rejected Reverend Wright’s rants against the United States and against the white power-structure, but he refused to reject the man to whom he had looked for spiritual guidance. And he deplored the tendency 'to pounce' on every 'gaffe,' because, he said, if we continue to do that, we’ll just be 'talking about some other distraction, and then another one, and then another one.'

"The odd thing is that the press that produces these distractions and the populace that consumes them really believe they are discussing issues and participating in genuine political dialogue. But in fact they have abandoned genuine political dialogue and have committed themselves to a conversation that differs only in subject matter from conversations about Eliot Spitzer’s and David Paterson’s sex lives. It’s not politics; it’s titillation clothed in political garb.

"We should collectively denounce and renounce denouncing and renouncing."

Thanks to Stanley Fish for another attempt to reason with us as adults. (Barack's attempt was the first.)

Five Years and 4,000 U.S. Military Deaths in Iraq

It is patriotic to observe, lament, and publish these grim milestones. I love my country, friends. This war is hurting our country.

Barack Obama In His Own Words

"We the people, in order to form a more perfect union."

Two hundred and twenty one years ago, in a hall that still stands across the street, a group of men gathered and, with these simple words, launched America's improbable experiment in democracy. Farmers and scholars; statesmen and patriots who had traveled across an ocean to escape tyranny and persecution finally made real their declaration of independence at a Philadelphia convention that lasted through the spring of 1787.

The document they produced was eventually signed but ultimately unfinished. It was stained by this nation's original sin of slavery, a question that divided the colonies and brought the convention to a stalemate until the founders chose to allow the slave trade to continue for at least twenty more years, and to leave any final resolution to future generations.

Of course, the answer to the slavery question was already embedded within our Constitution - a Constitution that had at its very core the ideal of equal citizenship under the law; a Constitution that promised its people liberty, and justice, and a union that could be and should be perfected over time.

And yet words on a parchment would not be enough to deliver slaves from bondage, or provide men and women of every color and creed their full rights and obligations as citizens of the United States. What would be needed were Americans in successive generations who were willing to do their part - through protests and struggle, on the streets and in the courts, through a civil war and civil disobedience and always at great risk - to narrow that gap between the promise of our ideals and the reality of their time.

This was one of the tasks we set forth at the beginning of this campaign - to continue the long march of those who came before us, a march for a more just, more equal, more free, more caring and more prosperous America. I chose to run for the presidency at this moment in history because I believe deeply that we cannot solve the challenges of our time unless we solve them together - unless we perfect our union by understanding that we may have different stories, but we hold common hopes; that we may not look the same and we may not have come from the same place, but we all want to move in the same direction - towards a better future for our children and our grandchildren.

This belief comes from my unyielding faith in the decency and generosity of the American people. But it also comes from my own American story.

I am the son of a black man from Kenya and a white woman from Kansas. I was raised with the help of a white grandfather who survived a Depression to serve in Patton's Army during World War II and a white grandmother who worked on a bomber assembly line at Fort Leavenworth while he was overseas. I've gone to some of the best schools in America and lived in one of the world's poorest nations. I am married to a black American who carries within her the blood of slaves and slaveowners - an inheritance we pass on to our two precious daughters. I have brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, uncles and cousins, of every race and every hue, scattered across three continents, and for as long as I live, I will never forget that in no other country on Earth is my story even possible.

It's a story that hasn't made me the most conventional candidate. But it is a story that has seared into my genetic makeup the idea that this nation is more than the sum of its parts - that out of many, we are truly one.

Throughout the first year of this campaign, against all predictions to the contrary, we saw how hungry the American people were for this message of unity. Despite the temptation to view my candidacy through a purely racial lens, we won commanding victories in states with some of the whitest populations in the country. In South Carolina, where the Confederate Flag still flies, we built a powerful coalition of African Americans and white Americans.

This is not to say that race has not been an issue in the campaign. At various stages in the campaign, some commentators have deemed me either "too black" or "not black enough." We saw racial tensions bubble to the surface during the week before the South Carolina primary. The press has scoured every exit poll for the latest evidence of racial polarization, not just in terms of white and black, but black and brown as well.

And yet, it has only been in the last couple of weeks that the discussion of race in this campaign has taken a particularly divisive turn.

On one end of the spectrum, we've heard the implication that my candidacy is somehow an exercise in affirmative action; that it's based solely on the desire of wide-eyed liberals to purchase racial reconciliation on the cheap. On the other end, we've heard my former pastor, Reverend Jeremiah Wright, use incendiary language to express views that have the potential not only to widen the racial divide, but views that denigrate both the greatness and the goodness of our nation; that rightly offend white and black alike.

I have already condemned, in unequivocal terms, the statements of Reverend Wright that have caused such controversy. For some, nagging questions remain. Did I know him to be an occasionally fierce critic of American domestic and foreign policy? Of course. Did I ever hear him make remarks that could be considered controversial while I sat in church? Yes. Did I strongly disagree with many of his political views? Absolutely - just as I'm sure many of you have heard remarks from your pastors, priests, or rabbis with which you strongly disagreed.

But the remarks that have caused this recent firestorm weren't simply controversial. They weren't simply a religious leader's effort to speak out against perceived injustice. Instead, they expressed a profoundly distorted view of this country - a view that sees white racism as endemic, and that elevates what is wrong with America above all that we know is right with America; a view that sees the conflicts in the Middle East as rooted primarily in the actions of stalwart allies like Israel, instead of emanating from the perverse and hateful ideologies of radical Islam.

As such, Reverend Wright's comments were not only wrong but divisive, divisive at a time when we need unity; racially charged at a time when we need to come together to solve a set of monumental problems - two wars, a terrorist threat, a falling economy, a chronic health care crisis and potentially devastating climate change; problems that are neither black or white or Latino or Asian, but rather problems that confront us all.

Given my background, my politics, and my professed values and ideals, there will no doubt be those for whom my statements of condemnation are not enough. Why associate myself with Reverend Wright in the first place, they may ask? Why not join another church? And I confess that if all that I knew of Reverend Wright were the snippets of those sermons that have run in an endless loop on the television and You Tube, or if Trinity United Church of Christ conformed to the caricatures being peddled by some commentators, there is no doubt that I would react in much the same way

But the truth is, that isn't all that I know of the man. The man I met more than twenty years ago is a man who helped introduce me to my Christian faith, a man who spoke to me about our obligations to love one another; to care for the sick and lift up the poor. He is a man who served his country as a U.S. Marine; who has studied and lectured at some of the finest universities and seminaries in the country, and who for over thirty years led a church that serves the community by doing God's work here on Earth - by housing the homeless, ministering to the needy, providing day care services and scholarships and prison ministries, and reaching out to those suffering from HIV/AIDS.

In my first book, Dreams From My Father, I described the experience of my first service at Trinity:

"People began to shout, to rise from their seats and clap and cry out, a forceful wind carrying the reverend's voice up into the rafters....And in that single note - hope! - I heard something else; at the foot of that cross, inside the thousands of churches across the city, I imagined the stories of ordinary black people merging with the stories of David and Goliath, Moses and Pharaoh, the Christians in the lion's den, Ezekiel's field of dry bones. Those stories - of survival, and freedom, and hope - became our story, my story; the blood that had spilled was our blood, the tears our tears; until this black church, on this bright day, seemed once more a vessel carrying the story of a people into future generations and into a larger world. Our trials and triumphs became at once unique and universal, black and more than black; in chronicling our journey, the stories and songs gave us a means to reclaim memories that we didn't need to feel shame about...memories that all people might study and cherish - and with which we could start to rebuild."

That has been my experience at Trinity. Like other predominantly black churches across the country, Trinity embodies the black community in its entirety - the doctor and the welfare mom, the model student and the former gang-banger. Like other black churches, Trinity's services are full of raucous laughter and sometimes bawdy humor. They are full of dancing, clapping, screaming and shouting that may seem jarring to the untrained ear. The church contains in full the kindness and cruelty, the fierce intelligence and the shocking ignorance, the struggles and successes, the love and yes, the bitterness and bias that make up the black experience in America.

And this helps explain, perhaps, my relationship with Reverend Wright. As imperfect as he may be, he has been like family to me. He strengthened my faith, officiated my wedding, and baptized my children. Not once in my conversations with him have I heard him talk about any ethnic group in derogatory terms, or treat whites with whom he interacted with anything but courtesy and respect. He contains within him the contradictions - the good and the bad - of the community that he has served diligently for so many years.

I can no more disown him than I can disown the black community. I can no more disown him than I can my white grandmother - a woman who helped raise me, a woman who sacrificed again and again for me, a woman who loves me as much as she loves anything in this world, but a woman who once confessed her fear of black men who passed by her on the street, and who on more than one occasion has uttered racial or ethnic stereotypes that made me cringe.

These people are a part of me. And they are a part of America, this country that I love.

Some will see this as an attempt to justify or excuse comments that are simply inexcusable. I can assure you it is not. I suppose the politically safe thing would be to move on from this episode and just hope that it fades into the woodwork. We can dismiss Reverend Wright as a crank or a demagogue, just as some have dismissed Geraldine Ferraro, in the aftermath of her recent statements, as harboring some deep-seated racial bias.

But race is an issue that I believe this nation cannot afford to ignore right now. We would be making the same mistake that Reverend Wright made in his offending sermons about America - to simplify and stereotype and amplify the negative to the point that it distorts reality.

The fact is that the comments that have been made and the issues that have surfaced over the last few weeks reflect the complexities of race in this country that we've never really worked through - a part of our union that we have yet to perfect. And if we walk away now, if we simply retreat into our respective corners, we will never be able to come together and solve challenges like health care, or education, or the need to find good jobs for every American.

Understanding this reality requires a reminder of how we arrived at this point. As William Faulkner once wrote, "The past isn't dead and buried. In fact, it isn't even past." We do not need to recite here the history of racial injustice in this country. But we do need to remind ourselves that so many of the disparities that exist in the African-American community today can be directly traced to inequalities passed on from an earlier generation that suffered under the brutal legacy of slavery and Jim Crow.

Segregated schools were, and are, inferior schools; we still haven't fixed them, fifty years after Brown v. Board of Education, and the inferior education they provided, then and now, helps explain the pervasive achievement gap between today's black and white students.

Legalized discrimination - where blacks were prevented, often through violence, from owning property, or loans were not granted to African-American business owners, or black homeowners could not access FHA mortgages, or blacks were excluded from unions, or the police force, or fire departments - meant that black families could not amass any meaningful wealth to bequeath to future generations. That history helps explain the wealth and income gap between black and white, and the concentrated pockets of poverty that persists in so many of today's urban and rural communities.

A lack of economic opportunity among black men, and the shame and frustration that came from not being able to provide for one's family, contributed to the erosion of black families - a problem that welfare policies for many years may have worsened. And the lack of basic services in so many urban black neighborhoods - parks for kids to play in, police walking the beat, regular garbage pick-up and building code enforcement - all helped create a cycle of violence, blight and neglect that continue to haunt us.

This is the reality in which Reverend Wright and other African-Americans of his generation grew up. They came of age in the late fifties and early sixties, a time when segregation was still the law of the land and opportunity was systematically constricted. What's remarkable is not how many failed in the face of discrimination, but rather how many men and women overcame the odds; how many were able to make a way out of no way for those like me who would come after them.

But for all those who scratched and clawed their way to get a piece of the American Dream, there were many who didn't make it - those who were ultimately defeated, in one way or another, by discrimination. That legacy of defeat was passed on to future generations - those young men and increasingly young women who we see standing on street corners or languishing in our prisons, without hope or prospects for the future. Even for those blacks who did make it, questions of race, and racism, continue to define their worldview in fundamental ways. For the men and women of Reverend Wright's generation, the memories of humiliation and doubt and fear have not gone away; nor has the anger and the bitterness of those years. That anger may not get expressed in public, in front of white co-workers or white friends. But it does find voice in the barbershop or around the kitchen table. At times, that anger is exploited by politicians, to gin up votes along racial lines, or to make up for a politician's own failings.

And occasionally it finds voice in the church on Sunday morning, in the pulpit and in the pews. The fact that so many people are surprised to hear that anger in some of Reverend Wright's sermons simply reminds us of the old truism that the most segregated hour in American life occurs on Sunday morning. That anger is not always productive; indeed, all too often it distracts attention from solving real problems; it keeps us from squarely facing our own complicity in our condition, and prevents the African-American community from forging the alliances it needs to bring about real change. But the anger is real; it is powerful; and to simply wish it away, to condemn it without understanding its roots, only serves to widen the chasm of misunderstanding that exists between the races.

In fact, a similar anger exists within segments of the white community. Most working- and middle-class white Americans don't feel that they have been particularly privileged by their race. Their experience is the immigrant experience - as far as they're concerned, no one's handed them anything, they've built it from scratch. They've worked hard all their lives, many times only to see their jobs shipped overseas or their pension dumped after a lifetime of labor. They are anxious about their futures, and feel their dreams slipping away; in an era of stagnant wages and global competition, opportunity comes to be seen as a zero sum game, in which your dreams come at my expense. So when they are told to bus their children to a school across town; when they hear that an African American is getting an advantage in landing a good job or a spot in a good college because of an injustice that they themselves never committed; when they're told that their fears about crime in urban neighborhoods are somehow prejudiced, resentment builds over time.

Like the anger within the black community, these resentments aren't always expressed in polite company. But they have helped shape the political landscape for at least a generation. Anger over welfare and affirmative action helped forge the Reagan Coalition. Politicians routinely exploited fears of crime for their own electoral ends. Talk show hosts and conservative commentators built entire careers unmasking bogus claims of racism while dismissing legitimate discussions of racial injustice and inequality as mere political correctness or reverse racism.

Just as black anger often proved counterproductive, so have these white resentments distracted attention from the real culprits of the middle class squeeze - a corporate culture rife with inside dealing, questionable accounting practices, and short-term greed; a Washington dominated by lobbyists and special interests; economic policies that favor the few over the many. And yet, to wish away the resentments of white Americans, to label them as misguided or even racist, without recognizing they are grounded in legitimate concerns - this too widens the racial divide, and blocks the path to understanding.

This is where we are right now. It's a racial stalemate we've been stuck in for years. Contrary to the claims of some of my critics, black and white, I have never been so naive as to believe that we can get beyond our racial divisions in a single election cycle, or with a single candidacy - particularly a candidacy as imperfect as my own.

But I have asserted a firm conviction - a conviction rooted in my faith in God and my faith in the American people - that working together we can move beyond some of our old racial wounds, and that in fact we have no choice if we are to continue on the path of a more perfect union.

For the African-American community, that path means embracing the burdens of our past without becoming victims of our past. It means continuing to insist on a full measure of justice in every aspect of American life. But it also means binding our particular grievances - for better health care, and better schools, and better jobs - to the larger aspirations of all Americans -- the white woman struggling to break the glass ceiling, the white man whose been laid off, the immigrant trying to feed his family. And it means taking full responsibility for own lives - by demanding more from our fathers, and spending more time with our children, and reading to them, and teaching them that while they may face challenges and discrimination in their own lives, they must never succumb to despair or cynicism; they must always believe that they can write their own destiny.

Ironically, this quintessentially American - and yes, conservative - notion of self-help found frequent expression in Reverend Wright's sermons. But what my former pastor too often failed to understand is that embarking on a program of self-help also requires a belief that society can change.

The profound mistake of Reverend Wright's sermons is not that he spoke about racism in our society. It's that he spoke as if our society was static; as if no progress has been made; as if this country - a country that has made it possible for one of his own members to run for the highest office in the land and build a coalition of white and black; Latino and Asian, rich and poor, young and old -- is still irrevocably bound to a tragic past. But what we know -- what we have seen - is that America can change. That is the true genius of this nation. What we have already achieved gives us hope - the audacity to hope - for what we can and must achieve tomorrow.

In the white community, the path to a more perfect union means acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination - and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past - are real and must be addressed. Not just with words, but with deeds - by investing in our schools and our communities; by enforcing our civil rights laws and ensuring fairness in our criminal justice system; by providing this generation with ladders of opportunity that were unavailable for previous generations. It requires all Americans to realize that your dreams do not have to come at the expense of my dreams; that investing in the health, welfare, and education of black and brown and white children will ultimately help all of America prosper.

In the end, then, what is called for is nothing more, and nothing less, than what all the world's great religions demand - that we do unto others as we would have them do unto us. Let us be our brother's keeper, Scripture tells us. Let us be our sister's keeper. Let us find that common stake we all have in one another, and let our politics reflect that spirit as well.

For we have a choice in this country. We can accept a politics that breeds division, and conflict, and cynicism. We can tackle race only as spectacle - as we did in the OJ trial - or in the wake of tragedy, as we did in the aftermath of Katrina - or as fodder for the nightly news. We can play Reverend Wright's sermons on every channel, every day and talk about them from now until the election, and make the only question in this campaign whether or not the American people think that I somehow believe or sympathize with his most offensive words. We can pounce on some gaffe by a Hillary supporter as evidence that she's playing the race card, or we can speculate on whether white men will all flock to John McCain in the general election regardless of his policies.

We can do that.

But if we do, I can tell you that in the next election, we'll be talking about some other distraction. And then another one. And then another one. And nothing will change.

That is one option. Or, at this moment, in this election, we can come together and say, "Not this time." This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can't learn; that those kids who don't look like us are somebody else's problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st century economy. Not this time.

This time we want to talk about how the lines in the Emergency Room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care; who don't have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together.

This time we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life. This time we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn't look like you might take your job; it's that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit.

This time we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together, and fight together, and bleed together under the same proud flag. We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that never should've been authorized and never should've been waged, and we want to talk about how we'll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned.

I would not be running for President if I didn't believe with all my heart that this is what the vast majority of Americans want for this country. This union may never be perfect, but generation after generation has shown that it can always be perfected. And today, whenever I find myself feeling doubtful or cynical about this possibility, what gives me the most hope is the next generation - the young people whose attitudes and beliefs and openness to change have already made history in this election.

There is one story in particularly that I'd like to leave you with today - a story I told when I had the great honor of speaking on Dr. King's birthday at his home church, Ebenezer Baptist, in Atlanta.

There is a young, twenty-three year old white woman named Ashley Baia who organized for our campaign in Florence, South Carolina. She had been working to organize a mostly African-American community since the beginning of this campaign, and one day she was at a roundtable discussion where everyone went around telling their story and why they were there.

And Ashley said that when she was nine years old, her mother got cancer. And because she had to miss days of work, she was let go and lost her health care. They had to file for bankruptcy, and that's when Ashley decided that she had to do something to help her mom.

She knew that food was one of their most expensive costs, and so Ashley convinced her mother that what she really liked and really wanted to eat more than anything else was mustard and relish sandwiches. Because that was the cheapest way to eat.

She did this for a year until her mom got better, and she told everyone at the roundtable that the reason she joined our campaign was so that she could help the millions of other children in the country who want and need to help their parents too.

Now Ashley might have made a different choice. Perhaps somebody told her along the way that the source of her mother's problems were blacks who were on welfare and too lazy to work, or Hispanics who were coming into the country illegally. But she didn't. She sought out allies in her fight against injustice.

Anyway, Ashley finishes her story and then goes around the room and asks everyone else why they're supporting the campaign. They all have different stories and reasons. Many bring up a specific issue. And finally they come to this elderly black man who's been sitting there quietly the entire time. And Ashley asks him why he's there. And he does not bring up a specific issue. He does not say health care or the economy. He does not say education or the war. He does not say that he was there because of Barack Obama. He simply says to everyone in the room, "I am here because of Ashley."

"I'm here because of Ashley." By itself, that single moment of recognition between that young white girl and that old black man is not enough. It is not enough to give health care to the sick, or jobs to the jobless, or education to our children.

But it is where we start. It is where our union grows stronger. And as so many generations have come to realize over the course of the two-hundred and twenty one years since a band of patriots signed that document in Philadelphia, that is where the perfection begins.

Barack Obama's Speech Today

Barack Obama connected with the fat pitch of race in America and knocked it out of the park. He gave a speech in Philadelphia this morning that was similar to the keynote speech he gave at the Democratic national convention in 2004, calling for unifying all of us, and this time it was through his leadership as the next president. Although the speech was as nearly perfect as any I’ve heard in decades, I’m sure the hate-jocks will immediately begin trashing it and belittling it and twisting what it said into something ugly and false. But for a few minutes, anyway, I will bask in the sunshine this speech has cast in an otherwise gloomy day. Thanks to the flawed but good Jeremiah Wright for once again providing Barack with the context for standing for unification – which is why we all ought to be voting for Barack Obama. Amen.

An Immodest Proposal

Since Hillary's pillory of Barack (that all he has done is make a speech, while she and McCain are commander-in-chief material and Barack is not -- oh yes, and he is not a Muslim AS FAR AS I KNOW), I propose that Hillary drop out of the campaign for Democratic nominee and ask McCain to be his VP running mate. Mr. McCain, Mrs. Clinton, we don't want your warring ways. And more of the other Bush ways.

A Little Victory for the Good Guys

A Democrat, Bill Foster, a "soft-spoken scientist," won in a special election to the House of Representatives yesterday. He defeated Republican Jim Oberweis, a dairy big businessman. The District that Foster will now represent is Illinois's 14th, including the cities of Aurora and Elgin.

The 14th was vacated by Dennis Hastert, former Speaker of the House, who will be remembered for his indifference to the monkeyshines of Mark Foley, the pedophile who virtually publicly hit on pages while purportedly championing their interests on a Congressional committee.

The "Fighting Fourteenth," as Stephen Colbert would call it, is a bulwark of good old well-heeled Midwestern conservatism. Foster's victory was characterized as an "upset." I hope that cloistered conservatives everywhere are at last getting upset with the business as usual that we have seen for the last seven years.

Being Snowed

We had the biggest snowstorm we've had in years yesterday and overnight. Much to my surprise and pleasure, the sun came out, it's warmed up, and voila! the street is now clear. Think I might be able to go to a meeting tonight, thus treating cabin fever.

Gary Hart (once a Senator and candidate for President) wrote a column in the Huffington Post, "Breaking the Final Rule," in which he said this:

"It will come as a surprise to many people that there are rules in politics. Most of those rules are unwritten and are based on common understandings, acceptable practices, and the best interest of the political party a candidate seeks to lead. One of those rules is this: Do not provide ammunition to the opposition party that can be used to destroy your party's nominee (my italics). This is a hyper-truth where the presidential contest is concerned.

"By saying that only she and John McCain are qualified to lead the country, particularly in times of crisis, Hillary Clinton has broken that rule, severely damaged the Democratic candidate who may well be the party's nominee, and, perhaps most ominously, revealed the unlimited lengths to which she will go to achieve power (my italics). She has essentially said that the Democratic party deserves to lose unless it nominates her."

What happened to the candidate who said she was "honored" to be on the same stage with Senator Obama? What happened to putting the nation and the Democratic party first -- not her own ambition?

On Electing Barack Obama President

Highlights from

Barack Obama: The Man I Know
by George Stevens Jr.
in The Huffington Post

Mr. Stevens, an award-winning TV producer and writer, met Obama in 2003 when the latter was campaigning for the United States Senate.

"I went home that night and told my wife that I had met an exceptional man. It had something to do with the way he listened, the look in his eyes, the easy smile. He was there to meet people and raise money, but nothing would distract him from whomever he was talking to at a particular moment. ...

"He was relaxed and centered as he evaluated his prospects; he sought the advice of people he respected; he assessed the obstacles and the work that would have to be accomplished; and he made his decision. Then he put together a staff and a campaign team, and began to enlist followers, much like the community organizer he once was in Chicago. The new kid on the block raised more money than the incumbent Clinton organization that was able to call on political resources developed over a decade. ...

"I saw him last fall when he remained thirty points behind in the national polls and the press was nearly unanimous in saying that the "rock star," as they had dubbed him, was a flash in the pan. Some of his supporters were discouraged and the pundits were insisting that he must attack Senator Clinton directly. ... He promised that he would be "making distinctions" between himself and Senator Clinton, but that to attack her personally would undercut the underlying theme of his campaign which was to put the politics of polarization and division behind us. ...

"Over the past four years, I have observed in him a consistency that earns confidence. He is thoughtful, courteous and humorous, yet he leaves no doubt that, while being a good listener, he will shape his own thinking and fight for what he believes in. He makes me believe that we can be the country we want to be, that we can solve the intractable problems that have divided us, that we can enlist the youth of America to help build our future, that we can be respected again in the eyes of the world -- and, yes, that we can have a president who will call us to the high ground, and ask us to ask ourselves, once again, not what our country can do for us but what we can do for our country."

Herbert, Collins, and Waterston. And this Blogger.

Bob Herbert's NY Times column today said a lot about the Clinton-Obama phenomenon (try pronouncing that, and note that I have put the two surnames in alphabetical order). Namely that it is good news for all that the contenders are dialing down the invective and getting people thinking that two attractive candidates on the same ticket could be twice as compelling to voters as one, and not tearing each other up so badly that the Gruesome Old Party wins again, this time by default.

But Bob also reminded us that the GOP is still out there in the parking lot doing one-arm pushups when it comes to dirty tricks:

"Anyone who thinks the Democrats are a lock to win in November has somehow forgotten about Karl Rove, the right-wing radio network, the hanging chads of 2000, the Swift boat debacle, the intimidation of black voters in Florida, the long lines of Democratic voters standing forlornly in the rain in Ohio, and on and on."

Gail Collins is one of my new favorite columnists. She has wit that is not nihilistic like Mo Dowd's. I lift this from today's column:

Q. "I am an independent and looking for a president with integrity. Should I vote for John McCain or Barack Obama?

[A.] "Didn’t we all swear to stop picking the candidate who would be most fun to go on a picnic with? You’re torn between the guy who’s been against the war from the beginning and the guy who’s willing to stay in Iraq for 100 years? Between the guy who wants to pay for a $50 billion-a-year health care program by eliminating tax cuts for the wealthy, and the guy who wants to keep the tax cuts and pay for them by cutting the budget? Get a grip."

There are other questions and answers worth reading there. Take a look.

Law and Order has a new D.A. He is "Jack McCoy," played by Sam Waterston. "Arthur Branch" is out. And so is Fred Thompson. Oh la! And Sam is doing comic spots on Stewart's "Daily Show." Kind of rubbing it in. It works for me, when the butt is a lobbyist turned actor turned senator turned actor turned presidential candidate.

Finally, commentary from this writer on a Clinton-Obama ticket. I think that if Obama is nominated for POTUS, he'll ask Hillary, because he is an idealist. If Hillary gets the nod, she'll ask somebody like Evan Bayh, because she is a pragmatist. Barack will not do anything to get elected, but Hillary will. That's all.

Obama '08

Ron,

I guess we must have some telepathy. After reading the NYT columns today by Gary Wills, Frank Rich, Bob Herbert, and Caroline Kennedy (q.v.), I contacted the official Obama website and made a token contribution (all my contributions are token at this stage), and I am throwing my wholehearted support behind Barack. I will work for him in the campaign. "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose," as Janis sang, and we have no way to go but up from this quagmire. I am fed up with the Clintons, agreeing with Wills that too many cooks spoil the broth, and there's just nobody else. And I have always liked Barack. (His nickname, by the way, is Barry.) I think he is as qualified as any candidate. Unless some others enter the field he's it for me. I'm thinking of people of the stature of George McGovern, and there aren't many of those left. I will of course vote for Barack in the primary and hope and pray for the chance to vote for him in November. Considering that I joined the Peace Corps mainly because I was inspired by the idealism and hope that Jack Kennedy, the upstart young president of that day, provided, I don't think I could consider anyone else at this latter day of my life.

So, Ron, Senator Obama is my political fave too! Here's hoping and praying!

Peace, JT

My Family = Fun

Really enjoying the family blogging, what with the interior monologue on the debate, bitch slapping (!), exotic cuisine, and whatnot. Lying in bed with the "splint" (a sort of boot -- no, Donna, it doesn't have a high heel) on my foot to help the heel spur (doing so, so). And Celine Dion is indeed "fucking amazing," AK!

Saw my cousin Charles Evans again tonight and plan to pick him up for lunch at Our Best in Smithfield, Kentucky. He doesn't have a phone -- he says it is an "unnecessary inconvenience" -- so I'll take my chances on finding him at home one day next week. He lives somewhere between Sligo and the Ohio River, I think. (You laugh at the name Sligo? It's named after County Sligo, Ireland, the home of the poet W.B. Yeats, the originator of "slouching toward" that became a catchy allusion for TV talking heads and book titles by nobodies for a while.) As old-fashioned as "Sug" is, I think it'd be proper to get to his place by buckboard and a team of mules, but he actually drove off from the meeting tonight in a late-model pickup truck. I'll bet at home he even has electric lights!

9 Days In: Happy 2008!

Glad Dave had his beard shaved off ... Inadvertently I'm now at 93 for 93 ... Jon certainly hasn't lost it: the only way to look at these jokers is through the lens of his satire ... I lean to Barack (pleased with Iowa) but will take Hillary (not disappointed with NH): anything but GOP: the two of them would make a great ticket ... Don't have the post-holiday blahs: am over the holiday blahs and feel great ... Glad for my musical family, guitar, drums, whatever; I've learned the first verse of "Love Changes Everything" and sing it while I'm driving ... Have had a yearning to ski Snow Basin again: still recall the last day I skied in Utah (with Niece Jeanie) and didn't fall down once! ... Vet says Rudy is in great shape for a senior canine citizen ... My sponsor Leo gave me a 3-month token tonight: it's green: it goes well in my pocket with the 25-year coin, which is lacquered navy blue and gold: I'm proud of both ... Saw the podiatrist today about my heel spur and he gave me a "splint" to wear at night and an exercise plan and I think I'm going to be walking again by spring ...

Love Changes Everything

Our friend Tracy gave me a really nice Xmas gift: a boxed set of 3 CDs of music by Andrew Lloyd Weber. It contains the song "Love Changes Everything" from the show Aspects of Love (1989). The lyrics are by Don Black and Charles Hart and can be found at this link. I listened to the song yesterday while I was reading Dr. Bob and the Good Oldtimers, a biography of one of the two co-founders of Alcoholics Anonymous. This wonderful man, Dr. Bob Smith, after his salvation from alcoholism, lived what he said AA was about: "love and service." I thought that the song, just as it is, would make an excellent one for any Christian (or other religious) worship service: "Nothing in the world can ever be the same." Once again, too, I've been captured by the eloquence and charm of the writing of Frederick Buechner in his book of daily meditations, Listening to Your Life. I recall a story by Mary Flannery O'Connor titled "Everything That Rises Must Converge," and things lately have been rising and converging and it's been a good day, a good autumn and beginning of winter. Happy Holidays and God bless.

Snow, Sort Of

Was going to the jail in New Albany this morning to visit a guy who got himself on the TV news for trying to snatch a purse. Won't go into that, but headed out on the road this morning, being assured by the weathercasters that the snow would change to rain and roads wouldn't be slick. The roads were slick. There was ice on 62. I didn't feel safe doing more than 35, and of course the TFMs were fishtailing and sliding around to my front, rear, and side, so I said hell with it and came back home. The roads did clear later in the day. We're supposed to have more snow/sleet/rain/whatever I think they call it a "wintry mix" tonight. Was able to get out tonight for a while. That lovely effect of ice on tree branches pervaded and I hope there'll be maybe a little sun tomorrow or Monday to give us some winter wonderland. (Nostalgia for the music of Leroy Anderson led me recently to purchase an album with "Sleighride," "Blue Tango," "Buglers' Holiday," and all those wonderful, lighthearted instrumental works that prefigured my love of classical music in its present form.)

Nick Robinson, one of those kids I played baseball under the bridge with over half a century ago, died. He was 67. He was a nice kid and grew up to be a good man who spent all his life in this town. A lot of my childhood pals have passed: Hambone Handlon, Butch Stoner, Hubie (Chuck) Linville ... I hope it's OK to mention their names here. I honor their memory.

And Rosie just informed me that her cousin Orville died this afternoon. And just as she said it, Rudy jumped up on the footrest beside me and snuggled against me, as he did with Orville the day he was last here. In memoriam.

Muddling Through

Late to bed tonight because of two naps today: feeling punk from the third week of a cold. One of those that's mild enough not to be laid up but strong enough to make you drag around more than usual. Have a shoulder muscle that's tensed up, so going to physical therapy in the morning to get it unknotted. We've had two weather reports of late: (1) cloudy and (2) rain. It's raining tonight. Winter solstice is on Saturday December 22 at 1:38 a.m. Short days. I've been too busy to give in to my SAD. Way it ought to be every winter! Busy helping friends Sam and Mike and David and they're helping me. Leo and Bernie and Tom and Howard and Dennis and Irene -- yes, a woman! -- are helping me with my lifelong malady -- and I think I'm helping them. Irene is a dear, dear girl who doesn't know how helpful she has been because she thinks she's a beginner but her humility is that of a saint. Afraid we lost Earl. He was going to his hometown and I hope he got there. He didn't answer or return my call. I took him to task for always taking and never giving. I should have said that doing just that has been my failing too. I made it sound too much like preaching. My pal Van De Graaf is on in the next room and I can't hear what he's saying but I can barely hear the music, which is good. This evening, went to the little town of New Marion and after the meeting drove to Versailles because I was afraid I'd run out of gas before I got back home; filled up the tank and paid for it with a credit card. Buying things on credit is entirely too easy. Have the fan on in the bedroom. Rudy is in his bed and shifts from time to time and the wicker squeaks. That and the susurrus of the fan and the music in the next room. And the sash of the window has started to bump in the wind that has come up. Now there's Pete's baritone voice again. It's a nice time of darkness and calm. Goodnight.

Writer's Block?

My passion when I started this blog was the interface between religion and politics. I am still passionate about the subject but I don't feel that I have much to offer readers. The likelihood of influencing anybody one way or the other is minuscule. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. A clause about courage follows and then another about wisdom in that petition. Don't feel all that courageous or wise these days but I'll settle for serene.

Because of activities every night which I refer to with the shorthand "90/90," I haven't watched Countdown with Keith Olbermann for many nights. I taped one recently showing the mendacity and hypocrisy of a certain official and watched it later but my heart wasn't much in it. Pointing out the mendacity and hypocrisy of said official doesn't change anything. We're enmired in the dung until -- when? I don't want to think about it. And nobody else does either.

We've had a plethora of fatuous Christmas movies on the Hallmark Channel. Here's one called Meet the Santas, starring, among others, Armin Shimerman, not in his "Quark the Ferengi" getup but with his semi-baldness reminding me of someone I used to go to lunch with at my last job.

Goodnight.

Paul K., 1942-2007

Lost a good and dear friend this past Saturday. We had a memorial service for him tonight. He might have said, "It's not about Paul," because he was one to always place himself in the background. It's strikingly apropos that our devotional for this very day was about not placing ourselves in the "limelight" as we try to serve others. But it was truly about Paul tonight: I hope it was all right with him just this once, if he were -- or in fact was -- observing us from the other side. He helped me more than I or perhaps he could have imagined with his simple words, "I don't have any answers" combined with "I'm here."

I miss him. I'm going to try to carry on the way he has carried on ever since I've known him. He was a mensch.

Ad Hoc Genealogy

Visiting casually with a man this morning who belongs to my club. He's from Kentucky, is almost 78, is a retired farmer and works with, of all things, mules, for amusement. Belongs to some kind of association that raises them, trains them to work, for show, etc.

"What is your last name?" I asked.

"Evans," he said.

"Well, what was your father's name?"

"Perry," he said.

"Was your mother's name Gladys?"

"Yep."

"Well, I'll be danged! We're cousins, then."

I told him Perry came to my dad's funeral in 1968. Perry died at age 92, Charles (that's his proper name, although he has the nickname "Sug" as in sugar) told me. Charles -- "Sug" -- has a brother we called "Pee Wee." I'd incorrectly recalled that Perry and Gladys (and Sug and Pee Wee and Toad -- love those nicknames -- Toad was merely a play on Theodore -- and a sister whose name I've forgotten) lived near Crestwood, Kentucky, but the nearest town was actually Smithfield, where there is a wonderful restaurant called "Our Best." Sug told me that Pee Wee lives close to the original family farm, which was sold when Perry and Gladys died.

I also told him that in the early 1970s, my son John, his MaMa, and I visited Perry and Gladys at their farm, c. 200 acres. Perry took John and me for a tractor ride across his land and we visited the cattle herd. I saw that one of the Charolais cows was a bull, and I said, "Do you think it's safe to get off the tractor?"

Perry laughed and said that he'd never had a mean bull and this one was no exception. Indeed, the big fellow looked up at us for a moment and continued grazing, obviously wishing us no harm. We did keep our distance. Sug laughed and said they'd had no troubles with bulls but there was one mean cow they'd had and she had charged Sug when he was dealing with her calf. They sold her.

Sug invited me to come visit Pee Wee with him and I think I will do just that. We will have fun.

Sug also told me that he had a female relative who married a man named Bowyer, and that is another lost name of interest in my genealogical quest, so I may be able to get some more information about my roots.

I told Sug that our common (?) great-great grandfather was also named Charles and that he'd been born in 1791, had married Lena Palmer (b. 1791) in Cynthiana, Kentucky, and had then moved to the Providence District of Trimble County, Kentucky. Charles ended his days, apparently, living with his son and my great-grandfather James T. Evans (the CSA Orphan Brigade corporal) there, and that was where my grandfather, Tom (John Thomas) Evans, grew up.

It's kind of like detective work and it's pretty exciting.

More Potpourri...

"Cats are natural enemies of reptiles" (overheard on boob tube)...Reminds me of autumn last year when Miss Graypussy was boxing (with her declawed paws) at a blacksnake in the neighbor's yard and the blacksnake was taking it personally, coiled and striking back (not defanged, I surmise)...Ally Sheedy looks a little ate-up -- but she's not wearing makeup (courageous) and it's been a while since The Breakfast Club, when she was 23 (she's 45 now)...On Thanksgiving Day when I was about 15 I hunted birds one cold, clear morning with cousin/friend Johnny Henry on his grandfather's farm, i.e. I went with him, not shooting a gun as he did...A few years later at Fort Leonard Wood he won a sharpshooter medal in basic training, I "boloed" (didn't qualify) because I fired too many "Maggie's drawers" (missed the target altogether)...But I hit a water-snake in the head twice with BBs from Greg Peddie's gun from his dad's boat as we trolled up the Flat Rock River...Damn thing just flinched and kept on swimming parallel to us, like a little dragon...I heard the BB hit Snakey's leathery head both times...Got some holiday home-made pimiento cheese spread and we ate some of it tonight -- yummy! now that's "rushing the season" I don't mind...saw a house and grounds with glaring, garish Xmas lights on US 31 Thursday...not ready for it yet...breakfast meeting tomorrow -- will take some doughnuts...after a hiatus from Netflix we resumed with a revisit to Hill Street Blues...had forgotten how chaotic and over-the-top and absurd it was! loved it!...NYPD Blue was much slicker...A Vevay man, an Army sergeant, was killed this week in Iraq...oh yeah, between the no-draft and the mercenaries, we forgot about that atrocity for a little while, didn't we?...just add another yellow magnet to your car...

On Probation as a Daily Columnist?

Seems like the best I've been able to do is about every other day...My favorite character in The Asphalt Jungle is Sam Jaffe as the German mastermind criminal who makes daring robberies but never carries a gun...Had a good day Friday, putting up a Venetian blind and curtain rod, reading further in You Can't Make Me Angry by Dr. Paul O., attending a rehab meeting in which I complimented Irene for her talk and her marvelous turnaround from her sickness as of two years ago, and having a nice phone visit with the Bebe...Joined an online discussion group moderated by a newfound friend who lives in Richmond, Indiana...Also found an old friend who lives in Richmond; met him in California in 1967 and he has now been continuously sober for over 50 years!...Friend Kevin got a promotion and raise at his work...Leaves have mostly fallen and in the morning must begin to mulch them...Recently watched first four episodes of Hill Street Blues on DVD...Got the theme-song from iTunes and we've been listening to it...Still savoring the great brief visit with Ed Begley Jr., who is a Democrat, vegan, and teetotaler, and a mensch...Glad I stayed in town tonight instead of going to Columbus, otherwise wouldn't have heard Irene...Bach harpsichord sonata on Beethoven Satellite Network right now -- Van De Graaff, my friend...Must get to bed goodnight...

Dropping Names

Ed Begley Jr.

He lectured at Hanover College tonight on saving the environment. Asked what he thought about nuclear power he said, "We have the best nuclear reactor in the world. It's 93 million miles away. It's called the sun." (Applause.)

He worked with Arnold Schwarzenegger on an environmental issue and did the best impression of the Govinator I've heard when he re-created a session that Arnold had with Orrin Hatch. (Applause for that too.)

I got to visit with Ed for a couple of minutes afterward. He said he's making a movie about the Florida recount of 2000. I said "Ooh! That'll be great!" Then I whispered, "I'm a Democrat too."

"Good man," he said.

He is too.

"Why Do We Have to Keep Killing One Another?"

Just watched Bill Moyers' Journal, which featured author Thomas Cahill. Bill interviewed him about capital punishment, in particular. Cahill talked about our cruelty to one another over the centuries, citing public executions for sport, among other things. The three biggest offending nations in the world are China, Saudi Arabia, and the United States. Think about that.

Once again I was reminded of the gruesome place that is Huntsville, Texas -- the capital punishment capital of the United States. Once again I say that my first and foremost reason for opposing George W. Bush was his cruelty in presiding over that state's practice, never granting clemency to anyone. And I have heard over and over the uttered belief of people that Bush is a good Christian. Some of those people sport bumper stickers with the words, "Christians aren't perfect -- just forgiven." ("Forgive us our debts AS WE FORGIVE OUR DEBTORS." -- from The Lord's Prayer)

Once Cahill said, "Why do we have to keep killing one another?" Our differences are so petty. Protestants and Catholics? Shiites and Sunnis? Pakistanis and Indians? Muslims and Jews? Why can't we accept differences, tolerate them, overlook faults, take the log out of our own eye before taking the mote out of another's, help one another to make it through the world without starving and suffering? Why can't we forgive one another?

Comment On -- Well, God. OK?

Yesterday I requested a book I'd seen discussed in the New York Times blog, Think Again, by Stanley Fish. The post was "Suffering, Evil, and the Existence of God." This morning I withdrew the request of the library to obtain Antony Flew's There Is a God: How the World's Most Notorious Atheist Changed his Mind. I did so because it appears that Flew suffers from senile dementia and was exploited by his co-author, Roy Abraham Varghese, the ghost-writer of much of the text that, when interviewed, Flew was not able to recognize or recall. I didn't want to ask the library to obtain a book that is, as far as I am concerned, a hoax, in the same way that I would have not asked for the book by James Frey about his treatment for drug dependence at Hazelden, which was shown to be a pack of lies and did more harm than good to people who are seeking the truth about escaping the evil of alcoholism.

In the same way, I think tricking an addled old man into signing off on little more than a tendentious rather than a purportedly rational argument for the existence of a First Cause is unscrupulous and, whereas I don't want books burned or otherwise suppressed, I'll leave it up to somebody else to request the book.

This is really hard work, trying to puzzle out what I believe about God, as we call "Him." First, define your terms, JT. What do I mean when I say "God"? I mean the creator of the material universe: the macrocosm and the microcosm that we are aware of, as well as all that we are unaware of: the force or entity that caused the Big Bang or whatever started it all and the one that was there before the Big Bang. "Before" and "after" being constructs of our mortal understanding of "time."

It can be neither disproved nor proved, but I believe -- and this is my article of faith, part of my personal catechism -- that this ineffable vastness and complexity and orderliness did not occur by "accident." I believe in a "first cause." We pipsqueaks don't even have the wherewithal to "prove" that. It's just my notion, my inclination -- my hunch. And I'll never know one way or the other. I guess.

It is all such a mystery.

Cerulean Sky, Luminous Pearly Clouds, Russet Leaves

I love autumn once again. Today was an exemplary day. Sunny, crisp, vigorous. Voted and -- hot diggety damn! -- Tim Armstrong won! Madison has a Democratic mayor for the first time in a long, long while. The guy has absolutely no experience. But it was time for a change. After voting, in the gym of Anderson Elementary School, went to the library and got books and DVDs.

Also requested a book that I learned about on the New York Times blog by Stanley Fish, this post with the title, "Suffering, Evil, and the Existence of God." The book of interest is There Is a God: How the World’s Most Notorious Atheist Changed His Mind, by Antony Flew.

I also wanted to obtain another book (Bart D. Ehrman, God’s Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question – Why We Suffer) wrestling with the conundrum of God's attributed benevolence and omnipotence in the face of evil. Epicurus wrote: “Is God willing to prevent evil but not able? Then he is impotent. Is he able but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Whence, then, evil.” I learned a new word: "theodicy," meaning "the defense of God’s omnipotence and goodness in view of the existence of evil." I can see why they call defenders of the faith "apologists." Ehrman's book will be available in February 2008.

Made two CDs from new music I recently imported. I especially love the organ toccatas by Jongen, Widor, and J.S. Bach. (Psst! It's too easy to buy music from iTunes!)

No new comedy shows tonight because of the writers' strike, so will watch some of Countdown, which I taped.

Eight Minutes to Deadline

Beating the clock to get my story in print: I actually did that for newspapers in Franklin, LaPorte, and Madison, Indiana! I kept getting interrupted, but I could have been an honest-to-god reporter for a living. So my blog post will be on time. Piece o' cake.

30 Posts in 30 Days, By Gum

This blogging thing is a piece o' cake! I can write something, some drivel daily, I who wanted to be a newspaper columnist? (Along with all my other pipe dreams?) Does a cat have a meow?

At just after six, EST (we returned to slow time), the sun was down, but amber light at the western horizon graduated into light blue as I raised my eyes toward the zenith, viewing it here from the bay window. Now the mini-blinds are closed, soft lights are on, and we're watching Shark, which doesn't take a lot of effort. I liked the sundown, of course, and I like being on the same time as the adjacent counties in Kentucky, Jeffersonville, Vevay, Louisville, Cincinnati, and Indianapolis. Before DST, the only one of those we were on the same time with was Indianapolis. Which utterly ignores us. Southern Indiana! Onward and upward!

OK, I accept the challenge!

Blog a day for a month, huh? Hmm. Words, that's about all I have to offer. Fair enough. So here goes. It sure is good to see some posts again from the family.

Just finished rereading Getting Better: Inside Alcoholics Anonymous by Nan Robertson, first published in 1988. I'll let the book speak for itself, should anyone care to read it. I will comment on the edition of the book, namely an Authors Guild backinprint.com edition. It's a paperback, excellently bound and printed. I'm also rereading Not-God: A History of Alcoholics Anonymous by Ernest Kurtz, and for the first time, You Can't Make Me Angry, by Dr. Paul O. The latter, although aimed at members of AA and Al-Anon, is of general interest, and enlightening as well as good-humored.

I'm also finishing reading A Woman in Charge, a biography of Hillary Clinton, by Carl Bernstein. I believe she stands a good chance of being the woman in charge starting in 2009, and although I cringe at her continuing to make pacts with the devil in order to tread lightly on that part of the electorate she needs to get to the Oval Office, I have high hopes that she will make a decent president, which, it goes without saying, this country sorely needs.