I’m filling up with so much Christmas spirit that I can almost wish the Republican members of the House of Representatives a Merry Christmas. They have certainly given all of us a wonderful present: a tax increase of $1000, plus delayed unemployment benefits and pissed off a lot of doctors by delaying Medicare payments in the process. I hope that smiley elf called John Boehner is kept busy chasing the recalcitrants down and working on selling the compromise extension package. What a great group of misguided non-thinkers!
Ohio State got a nice present from the N.C.A.A. in adding more scholarship losses and no bowl game in 2012. I can’t waste too many crocodile tears on them. Urban is going to have to perform a lot of Urban renewal, it would appear, especially in recruiting.
A special chorus of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” should be sung to Newt Gingrich for redefining the Palestinians as a “contrived people”. Funny, I thought they had been around a few thousand years, but what do I know?
And special kudos to Mitt Romney, the political equivalent of Fred Astaire or Bojangles Robinson---the best tap dancer on the political stage.
And maybe I should include the whole Republican candidates’ debates: wholesome entertainment for the family. It makes a great puppet show featuring Punch and Judy beating on each other in the form of Rick Parry and Ron Paul---and then using Newt as the target. Michele Bachmann makes a great Scarecrow, or is it the Wicked Witch of the West?
One thing for sure---these politicos know how to keep us on our toes or on the edge of our seats. May Santa’s reindeers crap on them on the way back to the North Pole.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
'TIS THE SEASON...
'Tis the season to be jolly, and all those good things of the Yuletide. We are preparing for the invasion of family: three of our four children with two spouses and four of six grandchildren. Needless to say, we have a houseful plus a condo full!
It is frantic but fun. Our three daughters take over the cooking and planning, taking pressure off my wife, who deserves a break after fifty-eight years of family Christmases. Actually, my daughters have been doing so the last few years, but now my wife welcomes the help and to have other people in charge. And this year we have a new family member: my eldest granddaughter's new husband, Tim, who will be a welcome addition.
We cram a lot into the days they are here. Naturally, the girls want to soak up the sun and get in a lot of beachtime. Our condo is right on the beach of the Gulf of Mexico only 120 feet from the water. The grandaughters spent their holidays here and have grown up with the kids of other condo owners, so it's old home week. The boys, son-in-laws and grandsons, love to go to a sports bar called the "Lazy Flamingo", noted for their Mesquite-grilled grouper sandwiches,. to-die-for seasoned French Fries, raw or fried oysters,spicy Conch Chowder and a plethora of beers.
We also go out for dinner a few times. We usually go out on a pontoon boat where we tour the waterways and islands around us. The sons-in-law have developed a tradition of doing a Seafood Feast Night where they purchase a wide variety of oysters, clams and other seafood goodies, including sometimes the product of successful deep sea fishing, which they prepare and serve.
As I say, it's frantic but fun---and what a holiday season should be---a chance for family to mingle and share the good times.
And that's what I wish all of you. Laissez les bons temps rouler,as they say in Louisiana. Happy holidays with good times, and let's hope a better New Year for the world.
It is frantic but fun. Our three daughters take over the cooking and planning, taking pressure off my wife, who deserves a break after fifty-eight years of family Christmases. Actually, my daughters have been doing so the last few years, but now my wife welcomes the help and to have other people in charge. And this year we have a new family member: my eldest granddaughter's new husband, Tim, who will be a welcome addition.
We cram a lot into the days they are here. Naturally, the girls want to soak up the sun and get in a lot of beachtime. Our condo is right on the beach of the Gulf of Mexico only 120 feet from the water. The grandaughters spent their holidays here and have grown up with the kids of other condo owners, so it's old home week. The boys, son-in-laws and grandsons, love to go to a sports bar called the "Lazy Flamingo", noted for their Mesquite-grilled grouper sandwiches,. to-die-for seasoned French Fries, raw or fried oysters,spicy Conch Chowder and a plethora of beers.
We also go out for dinner a few times. We usually go out on a pontoon boat where we tour the waterways and islands around us. The sons-in-law have developed a tradition of doing a Seafood Feast Night where they purchase a wide variety of oysters, clams and other seafood goodies, including sometimes the product of successful deep sea fishing, which they prepare and serve.
As I say, it's frantic but fun---and what a holiday season should be---a chance for family to mingle and share the good times.
And that's what I wish all of you. Laissez les bons temps rouler,as they say in Louisiana. Happy holidays with good times, and let's hope a better New Year for the world.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
ECONOMICS 101 OR MAYBE 102
“So we are isolated, are we? Cut off, locked out of the room, left on the sidelines, cast out of the inner core – and any other baleful metaphors you can think of. Well, Britain has stood alone before, as I recall, and we defended the idea of democracy in Europe then, too. But we need not get romantically heroic about it. We just have to ask ourselves: what is it exactly that we are outside of? A burning building? With only our triple-A credit rating and our competitive financial industry to console us?
What just happened, after all? We jumped off a bus that was hurtling toward a brick wall. When it eventually crashes, the driver(s) of the bus – who will survive, this being a metaphorical bus – will probably blame us, claiming that if it had not been for our failure to co-operate, the wall might have evaporated. The crash, when it comes, will be truly dreadful, and all the more tragic because a delusional European elite refused to accept its inevitability.”
These are the words of a very talented and incisive political commentator in U.K. named Janet Daly whom I have admired for a long time. She is American by birth, graduated from Berkeley as a flaming liberal, went to England in 1965 and morphed into a political analyst and commentator on the right. She is very bright and insightful, and the above lengthy quotation is part of her take on the euro crisis and Britain’s veto of the proposed new treaty.
Most Americans don’t give a damn about the euro---but, judging by the market reaction, they should., because it is affecting our financial world and economy, as well.
Back in the early nineties when the concept of the United States of Europe was born and the resultant establishment of a common European currency, the euro, the U.K. chose to be part of the European Economic Community (the E.E.C.) as a trading partner for obvious economic reasons but opted out of accepting the euro as currency. When Tony Blair was Prime Minister, he was very pro-European and wanted to push U.K. into making the euro the currency of U.K. and entering into full partnership in the E.E.C. One of the few sensible things Gordon Brown as Chancellor of the Exchequer (like Secretary of the Treasury) did was to resist this idea and stayed with the pound sterling as the currency. He was not so sensible when he became Prime Minister, and England is still paying the price of the mountain of debt he accumulated, necessitating the austere fiscal policy under which they operate today.
David Cameron, the current Prime Minister had the courage to face reality and reject the new E.E.C. treaty where strict financial controls and sanctions for failure are part of the proposed treaty. If he had not rejected it, I might add, he would have probably been drawn and quartered by his own Tory party! But the point is, he did so, to his credit.
Janet Daly has hit the mark right on in her column: Europe is a runaway bus heading for disaster. Yes, they may exercise some financial controls to stop profligate economies from running amok, but they have not addressed the question of growth and economic stimulation. (Does this sound vaguely familiar?) Austerity will be the order of the day, but it will not cure the matter of kick-starting the economy to get things rolling with work and jobs. I think it is going to get messy.
So, take heart, people, we have lots of company in this chaotic economic world. We don’t have an exclusive on problems; in fact, next to Europe, we look pretty damned good. I recall the old adage: “In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.” I guess we’re the one-eyed jack.
What just happened, after all? We jumped off a bus that was hurtling toward a brick wall. When it eventually crashes, the driver(s) of the bus – who will survive, this being a metaphorical bus – will probably blame us, claiming that if it had not been for our failure to co-operate, the wall might have evaporated. The crash, when it comes, will be truly dreadful, and all the more tragic because a delusional European elite refused to accept its inevitability.”
These are the words of a very talented and incisive political commentator in U.K. named Janet Daly whom I have admired for a long time. She is American by birth, graduated from Berkeley as a flaming liberal, went to England in 1965 and morphed into a political analyst and commentator on the right. She is very bright and insightful, and the above lengthy quotation is part of her take on the euro crisis and Britain’s veto of the proposed new treaty.
Most Americans don’t give a damn about the euro---but, judging by the market reaction, they should., because it is affecting our financial world and economy, as well.
Back in the early nineties when the concept of the United States of Europe was born and the resultant establishment of a common European currency, the euro, the U.K. chose to be part of the European Economic Community (the E.E.C.) as a trading partner for obvious economic reasons but opted out of accepting the euro as currency. When Tony Blair was Prime Minister, he was very pro-European and wanted to push U.K. into making the euro the currency of U.K. and entering into full partnership in the E.E.C. One of the few sensible things Gordon Brown as Chancellor of the Exchequer (like Secretary of the Treasury) did was to resist this idea and stayed with the pound sterling as the currency. He was not so sensible when he became Prime Minister, and England is still paying the price of the mountain of debt he accumulated, necessitating the austere fiscal policy under which they operate today.
David Cameron, the current Prime Minister had the courage to face reality and reject the new E.E.C. treaty where strict financial controls and sanctions for failure are part of the proposed treaty. If he had not rejected it, I might add, he would have probably been drawn and quartered by his own Tory party! But the point is, he did so, to his credit.
Janet Daly has hit the mark right on in her column: Europe is a runaway bus heading for disaster. Yes, they may exercise some financial controls to stop profligate economies from running amok, but they have not addressed the question of growth and economic stimulation. (Does this sound vaguely familiar?) Austerity will be the order of the day, but it will not cure the matter of kick-starting the economy to get things rolling with work and jobs. I think it is going to get messy.
So, take heart, people, we have lots of company in this chaotic economic world. We don’t have an exclusive on problems; in fact, next to Europe, we look pretty damned good. I recall the old adage: “In the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.” I guess we’re the one-eyed jack.
Monday, December 12, 2011
A SHAGGY DOG STORY
I really miss not having a dog around. We haven't had one since I retired in 1995 due to the fact that spending three months of the summer in England isn't good or convenient for the dog or the owners. But now I don't think we'll be traveling that long or far.
For as long as I can remember when I was young we had dogs around the house. Where I was raised in Ohio, we had 24 acres, so it was ideal for kids and dogs. At one point, when I was eleven, we had ten dogs, and they never tried to kill each other.
The oldest was a black dachshund named Youser who was smart as a whip and greedy to the same degree. He would sit up on his haunches at the dinner table (back in the olden times when families sat and had dinner together), begging for a morsel. One time my middle brother teased him for a good five minutes before giving him a bite, and Youser never wavered. When Youser died at age ten in 1943, my father called my middle brother and me at our prep school in Pennsylvania to tell us. Youser was family.
The second was Sonia, a beautiful Great Dane bitch with the disposition of a lamb. She weighed about 180 pounds and was brindle-colored with unclipped ears. She used to race to meet the paper boy on his bicycle. If he was a new one, he would be ready to change his underwear at the sight of this behemoth hurtling toward him. Then she would sniff and lick his hand. Sonia was a lover, not a fighter and always a kid at heart. I remember playing in the snow with friends where we were chasing each other in a game of tag, and Sonia got in the act, leaped up on me, stealing the knit cap off my head and running away. looking over her shoulder at my prostrate body in the snow. Unfortunately, she either was poisoned or ate something that did so, and she died young.
The third was Rip, a black and white Cocker Spaniel, who was loveable but totally stupid, a characteristic many Cockers share from too much inbreeding. His main joy in life was to get thoroughy wet and then run through the woods and collect as many burrs as possible in his fur. I bet I spent hours detaching these burrs from his matted hide while he looked lovingly and gratefully at me, after which he would run outside and repeat the process.
Numbers four through nine were Bedlington Terriers, the English breed that look like lambs. Petzel was the name of the mother, and my father had her mated, and she whelped five male puppies. We gave away three to friends in another part of the country and kept two. They barely made it a year when they were shot by the police answering a complaint from a farmer-neighbor, a reclusive old bastard who claimed they were hurting his sheep. What doubtless happened was they ran into his yard and were chasing and playing with the sheep, and the sheep, stupid as always, would simply roll on the ground and be helpless. We were pretty pissed off at the police for a good while.
Number ten was shortlived in terms of residing with us, named Buck, a liver and white spotted Pointer who was three. Dad decided it would be nice to have a hunting dog available. but there was one small problem: this dog hated and would bite anyone except Dad and me, for some unknown reason. The other dogs shied away from him, as well. As you can imagine Buck didn't live here any more for long.
In our own time as parents, my wife and I had a series of dogs, usually one a time, although back in the sixties we did have two a couple of times. we had a wonderful Wirehaired Fox Terrier named Yankee---I believe we got him around the fourth of July; hence, the choice of names. He was stolen. Then we had another, Wirehair, Tigerlily, who got hit by a car.
Then we had two Minature Poodles, ChouChou and Brioche. ChouChou got hit by a car, survived but had her brain ratttled. My brother had a male poodle, so his kids and mine thought it would be a great idea to have a family wedding between our poodles. My son, about eight, was the priest, and my two daughters and a girl cousin were bridesmaids, while two male cousins were ushers. the service was held in our basement. With both families seated in this "chapel", the bride came down the aisle and must have been a bit overwrought, as she squatted to crap.
Then we had Duke, a big and lovable Alsatian hybrid, He also got poisoned, perhaps by some putrified carcass,who knows? He was a clown and ate for three. He was joined by another brown Minature Poodle, Charlie Brown, acquired in 1969 from an old friend. Charlie was everyone's favorite. He had an undershot jaw and crooked bite so that, even when his mouth was closed, you saw a small protuberance of teeth on his left side. Charlie fancied himself as a great hunter, and his rasping bark filled the air as he futilely chased squirrels and rabbits around the neighborhood. He was also very independent and showed affection only when he was in the mood. As he aged---he lived to 15---he mellowed out and became very warm. Like so many dogs, his greatest pleasure was riding in the front seat next to me with his head out the window. In his last two years he had seizures and had to be medicated daily. Finally in 1984 he could not fight the good fight, and I had him put down. I was alone in the house at the time with my wife in Florida and my kids grown or away at college, and I spent a weekend alone grieving, not going out of the house. I still keep his picture by my computer.
The last dog was Red, an Irish Setter bitch, whom my middle daughter had obtained through an ex-boyfriend, and she gave him to us to keep when Red was four in 1984. She was an endearing airhead who would wander off and be missing for a day or two until someone would call, having noted her name and phone on her collar, to say Red was in their house. One time we had two days of heavy rain and Red was missing. Sure enough, I received a call; the man heard my voice and called me by name, and I recognized his voice as an old friend from our church. In her last years I believe Red had a series of mini-strokes which slightly affected her gait. She used to sleep in the basement in her own bed, One summer night a huge thunderstorm with lots of lightning scared the hell out of her, and she raced up the stairs where the basement door must have been ajar, tore down the hall to our bedroom and jumped in-between my wife and me in our king-sized bed, making a perfect landing, whimpering and shaking as we consoled her. We used to drive to Toledo to stay with a daughter and family, and Red would spend part of the trip in the backseat, standing with her head resting on my shoulder while I drove. My granddaughter reminded me that my son, in Red's older years, on occasions would take some auburn dye and paint Red's whiskers to hide the grey! After I retired in October of 1995, we departed a month later for Florida and left her with my step-mother, who loved her dearly. In less than a month we got a call that Red had died.
So, that's my canine history. After sixteen years, maybe we're ready again. Then again, you have to be careful on an island with crocodiles. Many stories abound of dogs lost that way. We'll have to ponder this one awhile.
For as long as I can remember when I was young we had dogs around the house. Where I was raised in Ohio, we had 24 acres, so it was ideal for kids and dogs. At one point, when I was eleven, we had ten dogs, and they never tried to kill each other.
The oldest was a black dachshund named Youser who was smart as a whip and greedy to the same degree. He would sit up on his haunches at the dinner table (back in the olden times when families sat and had dinner together), begging for a morsel. One time my middle brother teased him for a good five minutes before giving him a bite, and Youser never wavered. When Youser died at age ten in 1943, my father called my middle brother and me at our prep school in Pennsylvania to tell us. Youser was family.
The second was Sonia, a beautiful Great Dane bitch with the disposition of a lamb. She weighed about 180 pounds and was brindle-colored with unclipped ears. She used to race to meet the paper boy on his bicycle. If he was a new one, he would be ready to change his underwear at the sight of this behemoth hurtling toward him. Then she would sniff and lick his hand. Sonia was a lover, not a fighter and always a kid at heart. I remember playing in the snow with friends where we were chasing each other in a game of tag, and Sonia got in the act, leaped up on me, stealing the knit cap off my head and running away. looking over her shoulder at my prostrate body in the snow. Unfortunately, she either was poisoned or ate something that did so, and she died young.
The third was Rip, a black and white Cocker Spaniel, who was loveable but totally stupid, a characteristic many Cockers share from too much inbreeding. His main joy in life was to get thoroughy wet and then run through the woods and collect as many burrs as possible in his fur. I bet I spent hours detaching these burrs from his matted hide while he looked lovingly and gratefully at me, after which he would run outside and repeat the process.
Numbers four through nine were Bedlington Terriers, the English breed that look like lambs. Petzel was the name of the mother, and my father had her mated, and she whelped five male puppies. We gave away three to friends in another part of the country and kept two. They barely made it a year when they were shot by the police answering a complaint from a farmer-neighbor, a reclusive old bastard who claimed they were hurting his sheep. What doubtless happened was they ran into his yard and were chasing and playing with the sheep, and the sheep, stupid as always, would simply roll on the ground and be helpless. We were pretty pissed off at the police for a good while.
Number ten was shortlived in terms of residing with us, named Buck, a liver and white spotted Pointer who was three. Dad decided it would be nice to have a hunting dog available. but there was one small problem: this dog hated and would bite anyone except Dad and me, for some unknown reason. The other dogs shied away from him, as well. As you can imagine Buck didn't live here any more for long.
In our own time as parents, my wife and I had a series of dogs, usually one a time, although back in the sixties we did have two a couple of times. we had a wonderful Wirehaired Fox Terrier named Yankee---I believe we got him around the fourth of July; hence, the choice of names. He was stolen. Then we had another, Wirehair, Tigerlily, who got hit by a car.
Then we had two Minature Poodles, ChouChou and Brioche. ChouChou got hit by a car, survived but had her brain ratttled. My brother had a male poodle, so his kids and mine thought it would be a great idea to have a family wedding between our poodles. My son, about eight, was the priest, and my two daughters and a girl cousin were bridesmaids, while two male cousins were ushers. the service was held in our basement. With both families seated in this "chapel", the bride came down the aisle and must have been a bit overwrought, as she squatted to crap.
Then we had Duke, a big and lovable Alsatian hybrid, He also got poisoned, perhaps by some putrified carcass,who knows? He was a clown and ate for three. He was joined by another brown Minature Poodle, Charlie Brown, acquired in 1969 from an old friend. Charlie was everyone's favorite. He had an undershot jaw and crooked bite so that, even when his mouth was closed, you saw a small protuberance of teeth on his left side. Charlie fancied himself as a great hunter, and his rasping bark filled the air as he futilely chased squirrels and rabbits around the neighborhood. He was also very independent and showed affection only when he was in the mood. As he aged---he lived to 15---he mellowed out and became very warm. Like so many dogs, his greatest pleasure was riding in the front seat next to me with his head out the window. In his last two years he had seizures and had to be medicated daily. Finally in 1984 he could not fight the good fight, and I had him put down. I was alone in the house at the time with my wife in Florida and my kids grown or away at college, and I spent a weekend alone grieving, not going out of the house. I still keep his picture by my computer.
The last dog was Red, an Irish Setter bitch, whom my middle daughter had obtained through an ex-boyfriend, and she gave him to us to keep when Red was four in 1984. She was an endearing airhead who would wander off and be missing for a day or two until someone would call, having noted her name and phone on her collar, to say Red was in their house. One time we had two days of heavy rain and Red was missing. Sure enough, I received a call; the man heard my voice and called me by name, and I recognized his voice as an old friend from our church. In her last years I believe Red had a series of mini-strokes which slightly affected her gait. She used to sleep in the basement in her own bed, One summer night a huge thunderstorm with lots of lightning scared the hell out of her, and she raced up the stairs where the basement door must have been ajar, tore down the hall to our bedroom and jumped in-between my wife and me in our king-sized bed, making a perfect landing, whimpering and shaking as we consoled her. We used to drive to Toledo to stay with a daughter and family, and Red would spend part of the trip in the backseat, standing with her head resting on my shoulder while I drove. My granddaughter reminded me that my son, in Red's older years, on occasions would take some auburn dye and paint Red's whiskers to hide the grey! After I retired in October of 1995, we departed a month later for Florida and left her with my step-mother, who loved her dearly. In less than a month we got a call that Red had died.
So, that's my canine history. After sixteen years, maybe we're ready again. Then again, you have to be careful on an island with crocodiles. Many stories abound of dogs lost that way. We'll have to ponder this one awhile.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
A MODEST PROPOSAL
After incessant months of campaign rhetoric I am compelled to comment, because I know we have almost a year more of such persiflage, hyperbole and just plain bullshit to endure before the 2012 elections. I think it a tragic waste of time, talent and treasure to endure this lengthy political rite of passage every two to four years. I realize that the candidates need to perform, to show off their expertise (or lack thereof), and to attempt to convince the voters of their unique qualifications for office. It is particularly painful when a Presidential election is at hand. The Republican debates are a case in point; how long must we suffer this process of self-expression to be followed by an interminable series of primaries.
I believe we are the only nation in the world to make the Presidential electoral process last almost two years. Of course, I should admit, a lot of the world does not have an electoral process, so we should be grateful for this manifestation of democracy in action. In the U.K. and France, for example, the electoral process takes no more than three months. Now I realize, geographically, we have a much greater area and population to cover, but surely we could do it in, say, nine months. After all, nine months is the normal gestation period, so it would be reasonable, if you can whelp in that time, to produce a winning candidate in that time from that great womb of politics. Think of the time and money we could save, not to mention the peace and quiet we could anticipate by this abridged process.
Another thing, while I’m on a roll: why not push for an amendment to the Constitution to lengthen the term in the House of Representatives from two to four years? In reality, members of the House spend one year working (reputedly) and the second year running for office, in reality. Maybe this way we could get three good years out of their legislative effort.
I don’t want to set the world on fire, as the old song says, but I would like to start a small bonfire under the pants of our political candidates. I believe it would restore some reasonableness to the process and free up time for achieving the end game of politics called governing and enacting legislation. Do you remember that process? I think I do, barely.
I believe we are the only nation in the world to make the Presidential electoral process last almost two years. Of course, I should admit, a lot of the world does not have an electoral process, so we should be grateful for this manifestation of democracy in action. In the U.K. and France, for example, the electoral process takes no more than three months. Now I realize, geographically, we have a much greater area and population to cover, but surely we could do it in, say, nine months. After all, nine months is the normal gestation period, so it would be reasonable, if you can whelp in that time, to produce a winning candidate in that time from that great womb of politics. Think of the time and money we could save, not to mention the peace and quiet we could anticipate by this abridged process.
Another thing, while I’m on a roll: why not push for an amendment to the Constitution to lengthen the term in the House of Representatives from two to four years? In reality, members of the House spend one year working (reputedly) and the second year running for office, in reality. Maybe this way we could get three good years out of their legislative effort.
I don’t want to set the world on fire, as the old song says, but I would like to start a small bonfire under the pants of our political candidates. I believe it would restore some reasonableness to the process and free up time for achieving the end game of politics called governing and enacting legislation. Do you remember that process? I think I do, barely.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
IN MEMORIAM: JERRY STEEGE
All of us here are mourning the loss of a dear friend, Harrison "Jerry" Steege, who died last Wednesday from the ravages of pulmonary fibrosis at 79. He had suffered from this malady for some years, but it was only within the last two years that it really affected his lifestyle where he was dependent on his tank of portable oxygen and living in a home which contained a network of tubes connected to his oxygen supply.
Jerry was truly the proverbial man of many parts. He was an Internist, a doctor in the Philadelphia area for many years. At some point many years ago in his medical career, he became an ardent Christian---not a lip service "I-go-to-church-every-Sunday" type of Christian but one whose life was infused and activated by a faith that motivated his every action. He was not sanctimonious: he had a great sense of humor leavening his lifestyle. I'm sure his compassionate manner, reinforced by his faith, must have been a source of comfort to his patients.
He was active in Faith Alive, an evangelical force within the Christian churches and often traveled to many cities to stimulate faith in action at Faith Alive meetings in a wide variety of churches. He was an articulate and inspiring speaker who could discuss his faith without embarrassment and with total sincerity. He did not wear his faith on his sleeve; it was woven into the fabric of the man.
He was also the possessor of a superb bass voice and was active in Philadelphia and here on Sanibel Island and the Fort Myers area in singing groups. In our church choir he was the anchor as well as our chief soloist. Earlier this year he finally had to give up singing because the demands on his breathing were excessive, and he could not sustain his voice. Our choir suffered a great loss. As a tenor in this choir, I was always reassured to hear his deep voice beside or behind me. He also "warmed us up" before choir rehearsals where his deep knowlege of singing techniques worked to improve our sound.
He also these last three years has been the guiding force behind a group of men in our church,called the Men's Ministry, who meet twice a month for an early light breakfast at 7:30 a.m., and then each member takes a turn presenting a program, after which we break into groups to discuss the program and then report our conclusions. Jerry kept us together and was our great communicator in reminding us of meetings and who was the speaker and who was responsible to bring the food that week. We sometimes as a group go on a retreat, and Jerry was always there with pertinent insights and unfailing good cheer.
Anyone who came into contact with Jerry Steege knew that him as an extraordinary and gifted man. Anyone who knew him was touched by him. Our hearts go out to his wonderful wife, Christine, and his family. We have lost a great man. God has regained one of His best creations.
Jerry was truly the proverbial man of many parts. He was an Internist, a doctor in the Philadelphia area for many years. At some point many years ago in his medical career, he became an ardent Christian---not a lip service "I-go-to-church-every-Sunday" type of Christian but one whose life was infused and activated by a faith that motivated his every action. He was not sanctimonious: he had a great sense of humor leavening his lifestyle. I'm sure his compassionate manner, reinforced by his faith, must have been a source of comfort to his patients.
He was active in Faith Alive, an evangelical force within the Christian churches and often traveled to many cities to stimulate faith in action at Faith Alive meetings in a wide variety of churches. He was an articulate and inspiring speaker who could discuss his faith without embarrassment and with total sincerity. He did not wear his faith on his sleeve; it was woven into the fabric of the man.
He was also the possessor of a superb bass voice and was active in Philadelphia and here on Sanibel Island and the Fort Myers area in singing groups. In our church choir he was the anchor as well as our chief soloist. Earlier this year he finally had to give up singing because the demands on his breathing were excessive, and he could not sustain his voice. Our choir suffered a great loss. As a tenor in this choir, I was always reassured to hear his deep voice beside or behind me. He also "warmed us up" before choir rehearsals where his deep knowlege of singing techniques worked to improve our sound.
He also these last three years has been the guiding force behind a group of men in our church,called the Men's Ministry, who meet twice a month for an early light breakfast at 7:30 a.m., and then each member takes a turn presenting a program, after which we break into groups to discuss the program and then report our conclusions. Jerry kept us together and was our great communicator in reminding us of meetings and who was the speaker and who was responsible to bring the food that week. We sometimes as a group go on a retreat, and Jerry was always there with pertinent insights and unfailing good cheer.
Anyone who came into contact with Jerry Steege knew that him as an extraordinary and gifted man. Anyone who knew him was touched by him. Our hearts go out to his wonderful wife, Christine, and his family. We have lost a great man. God has regained one of His best creations.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
E.O.M. SPORTING RUMINATIONS
Well, sports fans, it’s been quite a month, I must say.
First, we had the Battle of the Titans. L.S.U. vs. Bama in a boring game, unless you enjoy war in the trenches as represented by two superb defenses.
Then we end the month with L.S.U. putting on a show of offense, after sleeping through the first quarter and falling behind 14-0 but waking up in time to wallop Arkansas 41-17 and authoritatively establish their unanimous choice as #1.
In between several major contenders fell by the wayside with Oklahoma losing twice, Oklahoma State once, Boise State down one and Stanford falling to Oregon. Now all we need is for Georgia to beat L.S.U. next Saturday to totally muddy the waters for the B.C.S.
The Big Ten finally sorted itself out to two contenders who meet next Saturday: Wisconsin vs. Michigan State. The Michigan-Ohio State turned, much to my surprise, into a doozie; I expected the Wolverines to rout them. But the two best teams are meeting for the title.
Will a B.C.S. title game between L.S.U. and Alabama be a scoring fest next time?
In other sports, basketball is off to a roaring start with a host of good collegiate teams getting warmed up. And UConn getting knocked off---what an early season shocker! In the meantime, the N.B.A. finally sorts itself out and will have a good part of a season. Baseball, surprise of surprises, reaches a long-term agreement quickly. David Stern better check to see what they were smoking.
Roger Federer, the old man at thirty, reels off seventeen straight matches to win three tourneys, including the year-ending prestigious ATP Tennis Championship where the top eight point finishers play off in a round robin format----and Roger doesn’t lose a match and is back at number three in the world. Plus he crushed his old nemesis, Rafa Nadal, en route to the title, 6-3, 6-0!
And the N.F.L., to say the least, has been lively. The Packers continue to be the class of the league, but I think someone will knock ‘em off before the end of the regular season. Aaron Rodgers is in some kind of nirvana as a quarterback with his unreal q.b. rating. New Orleans seems to be shaping up, while Houston is showing real class. The Niners continue to surprise while the Chargers disappoint. I don’t think the Brady Brunch will make it all the way in spite of Tom’s usual outstanding credentials. And Tim Tebow is living proof of the power of prayer. Dallas seems to be the Kardiac Kids. Pittsburgh has got its work cut out, particularly after so many injuries, trying to stop the Ravens. And my Browns continue only improving by millimeters---not enough. The Lions better put Suh on a tranquilizer. Sanchez finally had a good day for the Jets but maybe too late. The Giants are doubtful unless they reach new heights in December.
December and the New Year will keep us on our toes. Who will do what to whom? It’ll be fun finding out.
First, we had the Battle of the Titans. L.S.U. vs. Bama in a boring game, unless you enjoy war in the trenches as represented by two superb defenses.
Then we end the month with L.S.U. putting on a show of offense, after sleeping through the first quarter and falling behind 14-0 but waking up in time to wallop Arkansas 41-17 and authoritatively establish their unanimous choice as #1.
In between several major contenders fell by the wayside with Oklahoma losing twice, Oklahoma State once, Boise State down one and Stanford falling to Oregon. Now all we need is for Georgia to beat L.S.U. next Saturday to totally muddy the waters for the B.C.S.
The Big Ten finally sorted itself out to two contenders who meet next Saturday: Wisconsin vs. Michigan State. The Michigan-Ohio State turned, much to my surprise, into a doozie; I expected the Wolverines to rout them. But the two best teams are meeting for the title.
Will a B.C.S. title game between L.S.U. and Alabama be a scoring fest next time?
In other sports, basketball is off to a roaring start with a host of good collegiate teams getting warmed up. And UConn getting knocked off---what an early season shocker! In the meantime, the N.B.A. finally sorts itself out and will have a good part of a season. Baseball, surprise of surprises, reaches a long-term agreement quickly. David Stern better check to see what they were smoking.
Roger Federer, the old man at thirty, reels off seventeen straight matches to win three tourneys, including the year-ending prestigious ATP Tennis Championship where the top eight point finishers play off in a round robin format----and Roger doesn’t lose a match and is back at number three in the world. Plus he crushed his old nemesis, Rafa Nadal, en route to the title, 6-3, 6-0!
And the N.F.L., to say the least, has been lively. The Packers continue to be the class of the league, but I think someone will knock ‘em off before the end of the regular season. Aaron Rodgers is in some kind of nirvana as a quarterback with his unreal q.b. rating. New Orleans seems to be shaping up, while Houston is showing real class. The Niners continue to surprise while the Chargers disappoint. I don’t think the Brady Brunch will make it all the way in spite of Tom’s usual outstanding credentials. And Tim Tebow is living proof of the power of prayer. Dallas seems to be the Kardiac Kids. Pittsburgh has got its work cut out, particularly after so many injuries, trying to stop the Ravens. And my Browns continue only improving by millimeters---not enough. The Lions better put Suh on a tranquilizer. Sanchez finally had a good day for the Jets but maybe too late. The Giants are doubtful unless they reach new heights in December.
December and the New Year will keep us on our toes. Who will do what to whom? It’ll be fun finding out.
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