Every now and then I bring you up-to-date regarding the woodpeckers who inhabit a dead palm next to our house, the best view of which is from the powder room whose window is right next to the palm. Well, there have been some changes made.
A couple of weeks ago we noticed a strange small brown object attached to the right side of the tree, as we view it from the powder room. We could not figure what it was: we even got binoculars, but they were too strong for a tree that close and did not help. Then, a few nights ago, we had friends who are great birders here for dinner, and they looked and determined that this new object is a small screech owl.
Every evening the owl disappears but is back attached to the tree in the morning. Of course, owls are nocturnal and out doing their thing at night. But I had not seen the woodpeckers or even heard them greet me when I go out early to get the paper, so I figured perhaps the owl had scared them away.
Then this morning, as I went out to get the paper, I heard that familiar drumming sound on the roof and looked up to see the pecker, who then greeted me. As I came back up the steps, the woodpecker flew to her nest on the lower portion of the front of the tree, poked around a bit and then went in her hole. Prior to her entering the hole, I stood for a few seconds watching her, and she simply went about her business.
So, I'm happy to report, it's business as usual in the neighborhood---but now we are politically correct with a multi-ethnic dwellong. Ain't democracy great?
And, while I've got your attention, have a wonderful Easter. We will have two daughters and a granddaughter with us, which makes it extra-special. And we hope yours is, too!
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
POLITICS AS USUAL
The political landscape is starting to heat up slightly as presidential candidates start making noises. The early showing of "The Donald" Trump does not surprise me, as he manages to stir the pot and grab attention with his "birther" obsession with Obama's legitimacy as a citizen. Americans often get suckered by these petty potboilers who press the right nerves or stir up the frustrations and resentments stored up by many. The Donald wraps up those stirrings of the discontented in a nice little bombastic package that has something for everybody with a bitch or gripe.
We love simple answers to complex problems: the simpler and catchier the key phrase, the more they eat it up. We refuse to admit---or don't want to take the time and effort to find out---that most of our real problems don't lend themselves to one-sentence solutions.
Sometimes I feel like Diogenes of ancient Greece, going around searching with his lamp for an honest man. In the political clime of today, with so many complex problems, most of us are overwhelmed, and few politicians have the courage or balls to deal honestly with the real problems. One conservative I do respect (although I do not always agree with him) is Mitch McDaniel, the Governor of Indiana, who at least faces and tries to deal with fiscal problems. He comes close to calling his shots straight.
So brace yourself. We're going to hear a lot of furious words, resonant and babbling, but with little real attempts to find honest solutions.
It's the beginning of the silly season. Look at Arizona: they're leading the way to Kooksville. It happens every four years and sometimes more often.
We love simple answers to complex problems: the simpler and catchier the key phrase, the more they eat it up. We refuse to admit---or don't want to take the time and effort to find out---that most of our real problems don't lend themselves to one-sentence solutions.
Sometimes I feel like Diogenes of ancient Greece, going around searching with his lamp for an honest man. In the political clime of today, with so many complex problems, most of us are overwhelmed, and few politicians have the courage or balls to deal honestly with the real problems. One conservative I do respect (although I do not always agree with him) is Mitch McDaniel, the Governor of Indiana, who at least faces and tries to deal with fiscal problems. He comes close to calling his shots straight.
So brace yourself. We're going to hear a lot of furious words, resonant and babbling, but with little real attempts to find honest solutions.
It's the beginning of the silly season. Look at Arizona: they're leading the way to Kooksville. It happens every four years and sometimes more often.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
A FALL FROM GRACE
The whole Barry Bonds trial was really a fiasco. We all know in our hearts that he was guilty of using steroids, but proving it under the legal system is another matter. In a democracy we bend over backwards to protect individual rights and the presumption of innocence until proven guilty, but sometimes the system misfires or misfunctions because the burden of proof depends too much on hearsay evidence or is too difficult to prove absolutely.
If you think Barry Bonds never knowingly put steroids into his body, step forward and I will put a dollar under your pillow tonight for the tooth fairy and, while I'm at it, sell you preferred shares in the Brooklyn Bridge.
At least the government succeeded in making the obstruction charge stick. I hope it is enough to keep the asterisks on his records and to keep him out of the Hall of Fame.
Barry Bonds was a brilliant talent and a leadpipe cinch to make the Hall of Fame, until his ego got in the way and he just could not stand to leave the home run record in Hank Aaron's drug-free hands. Resultingly, he became the sports equivalent of The Incredible Hulk in order to take this title.
As I said sometime ago in an earlier blog, being a nice guy is not a prerequisite for the Hall of Fame---look at Ty Cobb,a really nasty piece of work, from all reports. I'm even for allowing Pete Rose in, now that he has admitted his gambling, and he was far from lovable. But Barry Bonds, even if he falls on his knees and admits his sins. should never be allowed in the Hall because he did not earn the right to be there legitimately or legally. When you stuff your body with steroids and thereby artificially enhance performance. you are dead meat as fas I am concerned.
Aristotle defined tragedy as the fall of a man of high estate from grace. In the sports world, Barry Bonds is truly a tragic figure.
If you think Barry Bonds never knowingly put steroids into his body, step forward and I will put a dollar under your pillow tonight for the tooth fairy and, while I'm at it, sell you preferred shares in the Brooklyn Bridge.
At least the government succeeded in making the obstruction charge stick. I hope it is enough to keep the asterisks on his records and to keep him out of the Hall of Fame.
Barry Bonds was a brilliant talent and a leadpipe cinch to make the Hall of Fame, until his ego got in the way and he just could not stand to leave the home run record in Hank Aaron's drug-free hands. Resultingly, he became the sports equivalent of The Incredible Hulk in order to take this title.
As I said sometime ago in an earlier blog, being a nice guy is not a prerequisite for the Hall of Fame---look at Ty Cobb,a really nasty piece of work, from all reports. I'm even for allowing Pete Rose in, now that he has admitted his gambling, and he was far from lovable. But Barry Bonds, even if he falls on his knees and admits his sins. should never be allowed in the Hall because he did not earn the right to be there legitimately or legally. When you stuff your body with steroids and thereby artificially enhance performance. you are dead meat as fas I am concerned.
Aristotle defined tragedy as the fall of a man of high estate from grace. In the sports world, Barry Bonds is truly a tragic figure.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
A REAL ONE-LINER
I'm at an age where one reminisces a lot, or younger family ask about things back in "the dark ages". when I was young. My wife reminded me of a beauty, one of the classic put-downs of my salad days.
I graduated from prep school, The Hill School in Pottstown PA, in June of 1945 just as World War II was over in Europe and, two months later, would be over in the Pacific as well. The war was still on in June of '45, so I figured I would accelerate and start in college right away that summer and have some credits under my belt before I was drafted in the Army. (As fate would have it, the war ended in August, and I didn't go into the Army until Korea time in 1950.) I was accepted at Princeton, In the meantime, my prep school roommate and staunch friend took the summer off, and then in the regular fall term entered Princeton. He was the one who had talked me into attending Princeton: I had been accepted also at Harvard, but Bob talked me into being with him.
Bob and I had come out of the strict almost monastic milieu of prep schools, in these days modeled on the British "public" schools system where discipline and austerity were supposed to be character-building. Personally, I think they only succeeded in making us hornier and ready to raise hell. I made it to my Junior year at Princeton before they caught up with me and kicked me out, saying I should go home and mature a bit and then they would reconsider my readmittance if I showed the proper maturity and contrition. Before they nailed me, however, Bob, who always was smarter than I, goofed off and got kicked out after his first term.
We got the news just prior to our going home for spring vacation. We huddled together and came up with a brilliant strategy where Bob would deliver an impassioned speech in defense of his record, promising to mend his ways if given a second chance. We wrote the speech together; he practiced delivering this speech while I watched critically. Finally the big day arrived, and he got an interview with the Dean of the college, Francis R.B. Godolphin, whose nickname, for obvious ironic reasons, was "Smiley".
Bob appeared at Dean Godolphin's office, filled with fire and zeal, ready to launch into his passionate defense. He entered the Dean's office and fired his opening salvo: "Dean Godolphin, I know I've made a bad mistake". The dean never changed from his stern and stoic visage and quickly replied' "Bad? Heh-heh, fatal!"
Bob's speech flew out the window, and he left the office totally crestfallen and mumbling to himself.
You have to give Smiley Godolphin credit---what a one-liner put-down!
P.S. I went on to graduate from Hamilton College and got low honor grades. Bob went on to Brown (he was from Providence RI and his family had connections) and graduated SUMMA CUM LAUDE, then got his Masters and Phd. in Psychology from Harvard and at one time taught at Cambridge in England. He died twenty years ago tragically of a brain tumor.
I graduated from prep school, The Hill School in Pottstown PA, in June of 1945 just as World War II was over in Europe and, two months later, would be over in the Pacific as well. The war was still on in June of '45, so I figured I would accelerate and start in college right away that summer and have some credits under my belt before I was drafted in the Army. (As fate would have it, the war ended in August, and I didn't go into the Army until Korea time in 1950.) I was accepted at Princeton, In the meantime, my prep school roommate and staunch friend took the summer off, and then in the regular fall term entered Princeton. He was the one who had talked me into attending Princeton: I had been accepted also at Harvard, but Bob talked me into being with him.
Bob and I had come out of the strict almost monastic milieu of prep schools, in these days modeled on the British "public" schools system where discipline and austerity were supposed to be character-building. Personally, I think they only succeeded in making us hornier and ready to raise hell. I made it to my Junior year at Princeton before they caught up with me and kicked me out, saying I should go home and mature a bit and then they would reconsider my readmittance if I showed the proper maturity and contrition. Before they nailed me, however, Bob, who always was smarter than I, goofed off and got kicked out after his first term.
We got the news just prior to our going home for spring vacation. We huddled together and came up with a brilliant strategy where Bob would deliver an impassioned speech in defense of his record, promising to mend his ways if given a second chance. We wrote the speech together; he practiced delivering this speech while I watched critically. Finally the big day arrived, and he got an interview with the Dean of the college, Francis R.B. Godolphin, whose nickname, for obvious ironic reasons, was "Smiley".
Bob appeared at Dean Godolphin's office, filled with fire and zeal, ready to launch into his passionate defense. He entered the Dean's office and fired his opening salvo: "Dean Godolphin, I know I've made a bad mistake". The dean never changed from his stern and stoic visage and quickly replied' "Bad? Heh-heh, fatal!"
Bob's speech flew out the window, and he left the office totally crestfallen and mumbling to himself.
You have to give Smiley Godolphin credit---what a one-liner put-down!
P.S. I went on to graduate from Hamilton College and got low honor grades. Bob went on to Brown (he was from Providence RI and his family had connections) and graduated SUMMA CUM LAUDE, then got his Masters and Phd. in Psychology from Harvard and at one time taught at Cambridge in England. He died twenty years ago tragically of a brain tumor.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
RING ROUND THE MOON
I read an hilarious blog today from Bill Boggs (billyann-journal.blogspot.com) in poetic form about the glory days of outhouses---and, wow, did this trigger a memory.
Many years ago, back in the Dark Ages when I was twelve or so, my father took my two brothers and me fishing in northern Michigan. We stayed in a wonderful log cabin that had water but the plumbing was "out back".
I had never used a privy before, and it was a single holer. but, being a smart and logical kid, I quickly figured it out. I carefully spread that white powder around the hole of the seat and then sat down and did my business.
Shortly thereafter, I wondered why my butt was burning, and it got worse as the day progressed. That night, when I undressed, my oldest brother commented, "What the heck is wrong with your butt---you've got a red ring around it." My father came over and took a look and quickly hit on the solution. "Did you get some of that lime on your rear when you put it down the hole?" I then confessed that I had put it around the hole, not in the hole.
I heard about that one for years!
Many years ago, back in the Dark Ages when I was twelve or so, my father took my two brothers and me fishing in northern Michigan. We stayed in a wonderful log cabin that had water but the plumbing was "out back".
I had never used a privy before, and it was a single holer. but, being a smart and logical kid, I quickly figured it out. I carefully spread that white powder around the hole of the seat and then sat down and did my business.
Shortly thereafter, I wondered why my butt was burning, and it got worse as the day progressed. That night, when I undressed, my oldest brother commented, "What the heck is wrong with your butt---you've got a red ring around it." My father came over and took a look and quickly hit on the solution. "Did you get some of that lime on your rear when you put it down the hole?" I then confessed that I had put it around the hole, not in the hole.
I heard about that one for years!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
FISCAL CHICKEN
Ain't politics wonderful? Watching John Boehner and Barack Obama duking it out in the main bout, with plenty of preliminary bouts between other politicos, on the federal budget. It's the old game of chicken: one pushes the other to the edge of the cliff. In the meantime, we spectators sit there and watch, wondering if we will have an operative government or will Washington shut down for a few days.
I almost feel sorry for John Boehner (but only with crocodile tears) as he tries to play a balancing act between responsible Republicans and the Tea Party wackos who keep pushing him for more and more cuts and less and less government---the proverbial rock and a hard place.
OK, we all agree we have to get a handle on the deficit, but the other part of that rock and a hard place is the need to stimulate the economy and create jobs. First things first. since I'm dealing in proverbs, and the revival of the economy comes first.
But we are going to continue to play chicken with lots of sonorous soundbites from both sides: "sound and fury, signifying nothing." It's the way the game is played, folks.
I hope I'm wrong, but i think the government will close for a few days. Occasionally, though, politicos surprise me---not often---and do the right thing.
Stay tuned.
I almost feel sorry for John Boehner (but only with crocodile tears) as he tries to play a balancing act between responsible Republicans and the Tea Party wackos who keep pushing him for more and more cuts and less and less government---the proverbial rock and a hard place.
OK, we all agree we have to get a handle on the deficit, but the other part of that rock and a hard place is the need to stimulate the economy and create jobs. First things first. since I'm dealing in proverbs, and the revival of the economy comes first.
But we are going to continue to play chicken with lots of sonorous soundbites from both sides: "sound and fury, signifying nothing." It's the way the game is played, folks.
I hope I'm wrong, but i think the government will close for a few days. Occasionally, though, politicos surprise me---not often---and do the right thing.
Stay tuned.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
DAVID VS. DAVID
What a wild and chaotic March Madness we experienced! Who would have thunk it: a number 8 versus a number 11 seed for all the marbles!
My midwestern blood emerged as I rooted for the Butler Bulldogs. My eldest granddaughter will probably write me out of her life, as she is engaged to a guy originally from Connecticut, and she did not approve of my choice. (Come football season, her heart belongs to Ohio State, while her fiance roots for Notre Dame, so all will not be pure bliss and harmony.)
UConn deserved the title, playing unbelievable defense in a title game with the lowest total points in years. it was not David vs. Goliath: it was two Davids duking it out. The iconoclast in me likes to see the mighty toppled and witness two underdogs competing for the title.
I have always been an Ohio State fan, and I was shocked when that great club was upset by Kentucky. I must admit, I am also getting a bit fed up with the hypocrisy of major sports, prime example of which are the Buckeyes and their Godfearing coach, Jim Tressel. UConn, with five talented freshmen, looks like they will be around for awhile. Basketball has so many surprises these days one never knows who is suddenly going to energe from obscurity at the propitious moment to demand attention.
That is the essence of the joy of sports.
My midwestern blood emerged as I rooted for the Butler Bulldogs. My eldest granddaughter will probably write me out of her life, as she is engaged to a guy originally from Connecticut, and she did not approve of my choice. (Come football season, her heart belongs to Ohio State, while her fiance roots for Notre Dame, so all will not be pure bliss and harmony.)
UConn deserved the title, playing unbelievable defense in a title game with the lowest total points in years. it was not David vs. Goliath: it was two Davids duking it out. The iconoclast in me likes to see the mighty toppled and witness two underdogs competing for the title.
I have always been an Ohio State fan, and I was shocked when that great club was upset by Kentucky. I must admit, I am also getting a bit fed up with the hypocrisy of major sports, prime example of which are the Buckeyes and their Godfearing coach, Jim Tressel. UConn, with five talented freshmen, looks like they will be around for awhile. Basketball has so many surprises these days one never knows who is suddenly going to energe from obscurity at the propitious moment to demand attention.
That is the essence of the joy of sports.
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