Recurrent Training

Snow! For the last six weeks we have had cold and overcast, broken up by a few nice sunny days but not much snow. A lot of us had forgotten about it entirely.

Well it is back, with a vengeance. We should have known we were not home free. After all, it is still February. March, too, is open season for snow; even in April we can catch a little snow in the first week or ten days. People were becoming accustomed to not having snow and even beginning to look at these snow-free days as a birthright.

This episode was well documented, having been part of meteorological discussions on TV since at least Wednesday. And the forecasters were dead-on, with an inch and a half already on the ground by 06:00 when I went out to try to identify where the Star had come to rest. Arriving at work two hours later, I noticed the cars in our lot had a good four inches accumulated on the hoods and roofs. Their owners had dutifully reported between 2:30 and 4:00 A.M. before the storm really got rolling. What we have now, at noon, must be some new snow and some blowing snow for we have about five inches down with significant snow in the air and maybe 1,500 feet visibility. Although accumulation seems to be less it is still coming down, and the radar shows we have a couple of hours to go.

The airport has been a mess all day. The planes are coming and going well enough but require de-icing, and are running delayed. Some airlines have more airplanes to de-ice than space to do it efficiently, crowding the ramp and clogging traffic. Nothing gets done quickly and safety outranks timeliness. I am sure there will be passengers unimpressed with that mantra when they miss their connections in Chicago or Atlanta. Probably the same ones will piss and moan about almost anything, custom-designing their whines to blend with their surroundings, oblivious to the conditions.

Citizens of Missouri, Kansas and Oklahoma require an occasional refresher course in winter. The season can run wet or dry for a while and then reverse itself, having lulled everyone into a routine before bitch-slapping us all back to attention. I guess this is one of the days we will have Mother Nature's hand prints on our cheeks, but it's all just part of the charm of the Midwest.

Greasing it up with pork fat.

Tuesday evening during his address to Congress, the President alluded, with just a hint of a whine, that he had inherited a deficit from the previous administration. This is true, he did. I am trying to imagine what modern president has not inherited a deficit from his predecessor. They all have. But in response to this shortfall, the President and Congress propose, in concert, to create a deficit many, many times larger for which my grandchildren will be obligated to pay.

My friends in power always feel like a healthy spending of government funds is the best response regardless of the condition of the economy. Recession? Spend and raise taxes. Prosperity? Spend, and raise taxes. War? Spend and raise taxes. Peace? Let's spend some money and consider a tax increase.

It seems to me we have left the fat kid guarding the pie.

The speed and mock fear with which the Stimulus Package was rammed through Congress strikes me that it is full of nothing but pure pork. There was a healthy lack of debate. There was a complete lack of GOP input (not that they would have reined in the stampede), it having been drafted by Governess Pelosi herself. There was an utter lack of anyone who had actually read the bill. You can bet anything clearing Congressional hurdles that fast is something that none of the Democrats or the President himself care to have reviewed by the Little Ranger or any of his friends.

"Oh no," they say. "No pork in this bill. Not at all."

Oink. Money for community development is not a stimulation of the economy. It is a repayment of political debt to an interest group, but the powers not only won't defend a decision like that--they make no comment on it at all, as if it is non-existent. Oink. There is money for a fleet of new cars for the government, which may make the Big Three happy but once the money is spent it won't continue to grow the economy. At least the people working in the Health and Human Services offices will have nicer rides.. Oink. There are infrastructure, road and bridge projects, but again, one-time bursts of prosperity. Once the project is complete and the funds are expended, the stimulation ripple stops. The economic pond will once again be smooth as glass. Oink. This is merely what has leaked out so far. Oink, oink, oink.

Strangely Kansas City does not stand to benefit from much of this spending. Word on the street is that maybe one road improvement project may be undertaken as a result. I say 'strangely' because the Mayor was completely in the tank for Obama from the git-go. Maybe the Obama camp figures Funk and Squit are an embarrassment and are thus counseling the Governor to steer the money away from this end of the state. If the Missouri money is spent closer to St. Louis, would the citizens of Illinois be more likely realize a benefit to themselves? Oink. (Don't tell me you don't get the Illinois connection.) I'm just sayin'.

The President and his minions have littered their communications with "crisis" and "dire" and "depression" and "emergency." They continue to paint this recession as the worst of times since the 1930's (ignoring the fun times back between 1777 and 1981, but Jimmy Carter was in charge then, and, again: embarrassing.) It is indeed bad times for those unemployed, and for their families. But we aren't getting much positive from Washington. I think they want us to be miserable and fearful, perhaps supposing we all will lift our woeful eyes to the politicians there pleading for salvation.

Hell, they are the same people that caused this recession, kicking it off with loose lending policies over at Fannie and Freddie. It will have to run its course, as it always does, before we come back. And we will come back. I just feel bad for the people who truly have been hurt by losing their jobs. I feel much less bad for the people making $80,000 a year who bought $400,000 homes just because they could get a loan. And much less bad for the bank that loaned to them.

Suggestion: Go to church for salvation. And find a skinny kid to protect the desserts.

Bear Lake!

Come with me for a trip west. You can drive and I will navigate. We will take I-70 west out of Kansas City, through Topeka, Salina, Hayes, Colby, Goodland, Limon and into Denver. When you hit I-25, follow it up to the exit for Colorado Highway 66. Take 66 west to US 36 and go all the way up St. Vrain canyon, through Estes Park into Rocky Mountain National Park. Just past the entrance you hang a left onto Bear Lake Road. Ride it all the way up to the Ranger Station at the end. Hike the final 50 or so yards to the head of the trail at the edge of a small lake hemmed in by forest and rock. You have arrived.

You will not be sorry. This almost-700-mile trek has taken you to one of the most beautiful places (my opinion, for what that is worth) in the United States that you will ever see. In the summer it is a sparkling, fragrant, peaceful high-country lake. The water is clear and cold, catching the morning light like diamonds. The air is cool but you are always warm in the sun. The long, early shadows contrast with the sunlight on verdant mountainsides crowded with fir, spruce and Ponderosa pines. At 9,400 feet, you sense you are in a different environment; in someone else's house. Sounds are muffled, and tourists are strangely quiet. They actually speak in hushed tones as though in church.

To some of us it is a holy experience. Under a flawless blue sky the lake gleams and the breeze rushes through the pine needles. A hike around the lake trail alternates shade and sun. You come upon Golden-Mantled Ground Squirrels (often mistaken for Chipmunks) and the Chipmunks themselves. Both entertain you hoping for a peanut or some seeds which the Park strictly forbids them to do, just as they forbid you from feeding them. Ducks occasionally call at the lake, and trout can be seen darting around the rocks close to shore. And always you are blanketed in the silence of the mountains. Silence is in the thick stands of Aspen and on the trail and on the water. The silence is as loud as the fresh pines are fragrant.

Towering over the lake, the noble grey stone face of Hallet's Peak basks in the full sun. Next to it is the bare summit of Flattop Mountain and in between is a small glacier. The rich emerald of the trees with the bright blue sky and smooth grey of the rocks are set into crystal sharpness by the contrasting shadows. But you are not welcome indefinitely. You are constantly reminded of the harshness of the place. Signs warn of sudden weather changes, and the danger of lightening. Posted warnings declare the hazard of cougar attacks. In some years, even in August, snow beside the trail speaks quietly to you of the closeness of winter up here near the timberline.

Right now I suspect there are few visitors. Bear Lake is probably frozen and the evergreens are set against a thick white cover of snow. But the sunshine and blue sky are there to make it glow when the sun is high enough. It will be inhospitably cold. As beautiful as the winter scene may be, Bear is best enjoyed in the summer as a sanctuary from flatland heat. The colors are spectacular. The climate is perfect and you have some time out of your life to be close to the lake and even closer to its Creator.

The trip back home is on the same roads, just reversed. The moment we leave we start counting down to our next return. Don't be in hurry. Take your time and enjoy the ride. And stop in Colby at the Petro truck stop; they have a Baskin-Robbins ice cream counter. Not scenic like the lake but also cool and refreshing. It is your reward for having to go back to the hot, humid prairie.

Let them smile and shut up.

Sadly the time draws near for the Academy Awards. I say "sadly" because we have been bombed over the last fortnight with increasingly detailed information concerning the public and personal lives of the motion picture icons selected as "nominees." I say "sadly" because the hype wore thin a long time ago for me; it is similar to the political campaign which recently ended in November, which took on an odd rock-star persona. No doubt I am alone in this, but it is not significant at all who wins "Best Supporting Actress" this year (or any year) and I just don't care!

I don't feel that pressing issues are denied coverage at the expense of Oscar-mania. It is that I feel the amount of news time and non-news time devoted to the subject tends to convince some of the great unwashed that movie stars are the great and wise of our time. They take on heroic stature. They are incessantly interviewed about their lives, their loves, the roles they portray and the futures of their careers. Stars are consulted regarding their views of modern mores and their political opinions. Sightings of these people at restaurants and celebrations are reported as newsworthy events with the same energy that would be appropriate announcing a cancer cure.

Some stars believe the hype themselves. They make pronouncements on the issues of the day, having been insulated from the real life of real people by money, publicists and adoring fans. They flaunt convention by ignoring mainstream religious values, by living together and bearing children without the benefit of marriage and by changing partners in these enterprises with astounding rapidity. Yet they are celebrated for their glamour and leadership, perhaps feeling that fame somehow also confers wisdom and authority on themselves .

Hold on. Some of this goes way back with celebrities. Gable and Lombard defied convention in the thirties as Brad and Angelina do today. Nothing really new here, but it is the intensity of the worship that is remarkable to me.

Rarely are the characters of these folks intensely examined. They are glossed up by the media machine but seldom are these icons subjected to an honest examination of who they are and never are they held accountable. Few serve in the armed services. Many have had (or still have) substance abuse problems. Legions of stars are popular for their outspoken criticism of our own country but we are never informed of their qualifications to make such judgments. Did they even graduate from high school? Did they study political science? Did they lose a loved one in the World Trade Center? Are they firmly grounded in life itself? Do they form their opinions in the quiet luxury of their Gulfstream, or have they ever flown economy on USAirways?

So I can't do it. I can't watch the Oscars this year, just as I haven't for the last few. One more self-righteous rant during an acceptance speech may put me into an apoplectic fit. Another snotty ad-libbed comment in defiance of the war, or in support of Hamas will topple me into incontinence.

But just as the election ended, this is just about over for awhile.

The Awesome Threesome

One fun thing about getting a little older is grandchildren. I have three; Rob, Annie and Steve, shown here with their mom. Rob is the poster-boy good kid. (Well, he does have a little mean streak in him when it comes to dealing with his younger brother Steve but otherwise he is very trustworthy and responsible--especially for a five year old.) He is a sports nut who loves baseball, football, hockey, basketball, even golf. The ones he doesn't like are the ones he doesn't know about yet. Not being especially large isn't a handicap because he has amazing skills, and I think he will do well in the sports on which he chooses to concentrate. Rob is clever, helpful and very smart. He has learned to do odd jobs around the house for money which he saves, shares with the church, and uses to buy the things he wanted but didn't get for Christmas!

Steve is the kid you must follow if you spot him with a screwdriver. He likes to get into things. He is very much into what Steve wants to do and greatly less so with what others want him to do. He regards school as an encroachment on his personal time and resists efforts for him to consider it "fun." Steve is a smart kid, and knew colors, letters, numbers and simple math very early on. I hope his learning curve continues upward at the same rate, but sometimes he knows too much. Like when he wrote the alphabet out--correctly--on the kitchen wall with a permanent marker, an epistle he ended with "Mommy," thus sparing himself banishment to the desert. But he is truly a sweet kid. His eyes twinkle, often with happiness and occasionally with anticipation.

Then there is Annie, just barely a year old. Her favorite thing to do is eat, followed by emptying out a purse left on the floor. She runs everywhere. Still a mama's girl, she is beginning to tolerate me for brief encounters. Her brothers love her but she truly loves the dog as much as them, and I think it is mutual. Like a cat, she sleeps about 18 hours a day so we have to be quick to spend a few moments with her. Also like a cat, she does not care to be managed. She is a bit of a princess, and has a staff rather than parents. I can't wait for her to be able to talk. I think we will have fun conversations, especially about Grammy.

All three of them are pretty well suited to each other. I hope they all grow closer as they get older and are not just family but friends as well. With so many children often found lacking in life skills it is good to see at least three of them off to a good start. They must have good parents?

On the right track

I like to photograph railroad stations. Probably you will have very few people tell you that in the course of your life but it is just part of my lifelong interest in trains.

Stations are declining in numbers these days. I will usually go out for a two or three day trip with my camera to get shots of the ones that are still extant. It takes a bit of planning but it's fun--for me anyway--to get out of the city and back to my rural roots. I covered much of Kansas, Missouri, Iowa, Nebraska and Oklahoma, even poking my nose into Colorado, New Mexico and Texas.

Some of the appeal is the thrill of the hunt. Some of it is standing on a crumbling brick platform looking up the tracks. I imagine the headlight of the Chief or the California Limited glowing in the distance with the passengers gathering, and the post office truck pulling up with the outbound mail. It's easy to do; the ghosts are all there.

Part of it is also simply enjoying the serenity of the country. There is seldom freeway noise or the cry of a police siren. You can smell freshly cut hay and the good earth itself. I miss these things a lot.

So here are a few shots; I will post some from time to time. These are from my trip last September. The weather was almost perfect for three solid days.

This is the little Santa Fe depot at Alden, Kans. It was built in 1879, and now sits 50 feet away from the tracks serving as a community museum.











This is the 1903 Santa Fe depot in Garden City, Kan. It has recently been beautifully renovated and is the Amtrak and bus depot. Many famous trains called at this station over the years.











This tiny building is the depot at Cedar, Kan., in the northwest part of the state. The town of Cedar itself is tiny but once was a stop of a branch line of the Missouri Pacific. The tracks are gone and the depot sits in the town park.

This is a trackside view of the depot at Beloit, Kan. Beloit is a medium sized town in north central Kansas and is an important farming and ranching community, and they have always had a state prison. Other than for storage, it appears to be unused. That is sad, for the MoPac built eye appeal and durability into station buildings here and all over Kansas.

This is a view of the Union Pacific station at Topeka, also used by the Rock Island. Railroads liked to show off a little in the state capitals and to a lesser extent, in county seats and other important regional cities. This building is a community center now.

Let my people go.

A sure sign of becoming an Old Fart is reflecting on differences between us as kids and the current crop. A few of us were discussing how much more time off from school today's students seem to have. When I was a kid in elementary school--and junior high, too--holidays and other time off from school was rare. And I loved being out. I was not one of these overachieving kids who was all about school.

At some point lost to memory, the authorities felt school should start in the last week of August. I know those people all worked in air-conditioned offices. I know that because if they were sweating in classrooms like we were they, like me, would have been thinking only of the Labor Day Monday holiday. To a fifth-grader, that week or ten days waiting for the Big Friday was an eternity. And it came and went like Sherman through Georgia. Just one extra day off. Boom.

Kansas allowed us all the first Thursday and Friday in November off while the teachers all went to meetings of some mysterious nature. [We never found out what they talked about in those meetings. I always assumed they concerned helping teachers turn the screws down on us a little more for the rest of the year, now that they knew our names--or at least knew us by smell.] That was usually a great four-day weekend because the days were still warm, often so that you didn't need a jacket to be outdoors.

Once back inside the walls I instantly became consumed with the anticipation of the Thanksgiving break. The three weeks drug by painfully but at last we were dismissed on Wednesday afternoon. I was usually so excited about being school-free that it never occurred to me that I had to come back on the following Monday. The ensuing Sunday night was torture.

After the shock of resuming class, I took refuge in thoughts of Christmas Vacation [always capitalized, to me.] I would begin counting the days down on a calendar until school was out. Vacation was rarely more than 10 or 11 days but that was huge. Just being out that long was as important as Christmas itself. I can remember laying awake wondering what it would be like to walk out the door triumphantly on the last day, and by golly, it was something in life that actually lived up to the hype--second only to the last day of the school year in May. Leaving school that last afternoon, I was Halsey sailing into Tokyo Bay. I was Washington accepting the sword at Yorktown. It was a great moment.

But then came the hammer. Going back on January 2nd, or 3rd, or 4th was devastating, far worse than Monday after Thanksgiving. There was nothing, absolutely nothing on the horizon until Easter. A long, dark tunnel with three unbroken months of school. In those days there was no time off for Martin Luther King's birthday, or President's day. No Spring break. In our small town, no events of interest awaiting. Months of cold and grey skies lay ahead, but never even enough snow for a snow day. Life was reduced to going to school, taking out the trash, and as much television as possible to ease the pain.

Finally, we would be freed on Thursday before Easter for a four-day break. In Kansas, "Easter" and "Tornado Season" are usually synonymous so I was never assured of a quiet break but off was off. And we were off.

From then on, I knew I could make it. The days were longer and began to warm. We could be outdoors after school. The freedom of light jackets replaced the restrictions of heavy parkas. Even the teachers were weakening. And each day got us closer to the magic day in May when we picked up our report cards and told everyone good-bye for the summer. Yes, SUMMER! What comes around goes around. And I am sure there was some Old Fart watching me riding my bike downtown on a summer afternoon to visit Dad at his office, thinking to himself that kids sure had a lot of time off from school.

Who do I see about this?

The girls in the dispatch office always have a celebrity magazine laying around; People, Us, In Touch and their ilk. I just perused one, and I swear, some of those people must exist only to be in celebrity magazines. They don't show up in mainstream anything. They don't sing or act--well or at all. They don't host TV shows or tell jokes. They are of questionable athletic ability. With no visible talents, why, why, WHY are these people famous?

Of course I exaggerate. Some of them are in obscure cable TV shows. Some have an obscure album in the backwater of the music business. Others have appeared briefly in some ill-advised cinematic endeavor. Still yet others have modeled clothing, or a notable lack of it, and caught the eye of an aggressive public relations operative.

I call it the Paris Syndrome, honoring their queen: Paris Hilton. I know I am not breaking new ground here but she slipped into the public eye doing nothing more adept than attending the parties of her rich, young, obnoxious peers. Once the eye focused, we learned she can't sing or act, and has no credentials as a political analyst. Neither has she displayed a simple ability to drive a car, which passed her briefly into the custody of Los Angeles corrections authorities. Unlike other budding young female icons, she isn't even particularly attractive.

Paris Syndrome peoples' real profession is a liberal spending of their -- or their parents' -- money. Money for dance clubs with $20 beers, money for parties, money for travel to parties often conducted in foreign countries and money for overpriced, ugly designer clothes. None of them seem to add any value to society beyond posing for photos.

So my guess is they really don't care about acting or singing or working to create their own fame, as much as to have fame just find them. With the profusion of Entertainment Tonight and her sisters on television, and the urban-phonebook sized stack of celebrity periodicals it is incresingly more likely to be found. Paris was found. They found such superstars as Andrea Bowen, Audrina Partridge and Seth Green.

Who?

Dormant, but not dead

Yesterday was Lincoln's birthday. Is this still the "dead of winter," as my mother used to say? Why is it called that? Yes, everything is dead. Or at least dormant. But January seemed more like "dead" with its near-zero temperatures and the blanching of the snow upon the landscape. This month we have had several mild days and only a little precipitation. Today it has become cloudy and cold again; at least it is not below freezing.

Today is the day we first catch a glimmer of the light at the end of the tunnel. And today major league baseball pitchers and catchers are allowed to officially report for Spring training. In less than two weeks they will be engaged in playing baseball. The season is beginning its long journey which concludes more than eight months hence when the World Series is finished. A lot can happen in that time. This is one of life's punctuation points when I tend to consider what is ahead.

What will be different by then? Will the Stimulus have stimulated us? Will I still have a job? Will America still be attack-free? One can run through all kinds of mental scenarios respecting what could have transpired by the time the last Series game is over. I guess it is the frailty and uncertainty of life itself that makes me wonder. Maybe it is the quiet overcast days that lend themselves to that mood. But here in the "dead" of the season, in the tunnel, there is that light way up ahead.

And where there is light there is life, after all.

Top Five

Lists are fun to make and compare. I suppose every man has a list of his five or ten most beautiful famous women. So here is my top five, with a few pre-requisites. I decided they all have to be over 35 with no visible tattoos or piercings. That way they are at least a little enduring. I also decided to exclude any women with whom I am personally acquainted. They are all much more beautiful anyway and don't have the financial resources to provide publicists, nip-and-tuck surgeons, personal trainers, personal assistants to do stressful things, makeup artists, chauffeurs and bodyguards, etc., all of whom keep celebrities looking great in one way or another.

Anyway here they are:

1. Alisyn Camerota, host on "Fox and Friends" Fox News morning show. Not sure who she is? Watch sometime early on a weekday. She is a real, actual person with a family and no scandals, messy public divorces or pictures circulating of her getting out of a car not wearing underwear. Very clever, lots of personality, always classy.

2. Jennifer Aniston, actress. She makes the list on the power of her looks alone, but I suspect she must be a little difficult with whom to be in a relationship. But c'mon, what woman wouldn't want to look like that?

3. Heather Locklear, actress. My first wife. One of the most stable Hollywood types until a few months ago. Something happened and she wound up with a DUI. The thing that struck me was that in her mug shot (which was of course plastered on every celebrity magazine cover) she looked better than most women you see on TV who have had hours of hair and makeup work.

4. Leeza Gibbons, talk-show host. She used to do play-by-play for the Miss Universe contests and was more glamorous than most of the contestants. She had her own show for a while, and always looks and acts classy.

5. Cindy Crawford, model. Yep, she still has it.

I wouldn't trade for any of them. We have our battle scars and quirks and we've earned them all. I have it made. And save yourself the trouble of telling me Amy Winehouse should have been on the list.

God helps those who help themselves...

I just have to get this off my chest.

The President was in Florida Tuesday morning promoting his "Porkulus" stimulus plan. At the end of his presentation I guess he opened it up for Q and A. What I heard embarrassed me . These are my fellow Americans.

Listening on the radio, I heard three people address the Chief Executive. The first, a woman,was in tears because she didn't have a large enough car, and she had lost her home. She really didn't have a question so much as to simply display her tearful misery to the President and all who would care to listen. She begged him for help. Who could not have empathy for this woman, but you wonder if she had used any of the state services available to people in dire straits.


The next speaker didn't think it was right that he is laid off from his $3000+-a-month job and only receives $1100 from Florida in unemployment compensation. He felt the federal government should make up the difference so he could continue to draw full salary, presumably while not engaging in work. He sounded a little indignant about it. He was far and away the most disturbing of the three.

The last speaker of note was Julio, a college student. He had worked at McDonald's for over four years and wondered how he could get "better benefits." I wondered how he worked at Mickey D's for that long and wasn't a manager, with good pay and all kinds of benefits. He wanted to be in broadcasting; unfortunately he was barely able to communicate his thoughts at all. His syntax was so poor that I really wasn't sure what he said. I guess he could work for CBS news. I heard a local station offered him an internship. Good luck, Julio.

I wonder what the President must have thought. He was gracious and kindly, but to hear these people--only one of whom was truly destitute--warming up for Jerry Springer had to give him pause. They were all wanting him, the government, anyone really, to make things better for them. What seemed lacking was any interest in or evidence of helping themselves. I have been unemployed. It's a humbling experience. But you try not to make it everyone else's problem too, and look for a way to right yourself.


In January, 1961, President Kennedy exhorted us in his inaugural address to "Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country." It inspired, and still inspires, many. Could no one in Fort Meyers have stood up to say they would enlist in the Army or plant a garden or register with Social Services or turn off the TV and look for a job? They didn't, and I was embarrassed for us all.

Who scheduled this thing?

Last night President Obama held his first televised news conference, just as ABC's "The Bachelor" and CBS' string of Monday night sitcoms were due to air. I thought he seemed a little uncomfortable. Not for any trepidation of reporters, but maybe he knew he was delaying "Bachelor" for an hour and that my wife had been silently cursing his name since she realized what had happened. She has only a few "must-see" shows; "Bachelor," "Grey's Anatomy," and perhaps "Private Practice." More than once I have felt her wrath when I failed to record one of these when she had a meeting at work during Prime Time.

Of course all did see "Bachelor" jack around with the lives of the oddly-motivated young women in question but the President may be getting a letter.

If the Q-and-A session had been a little meatier it would have been a more meaningful experience. This isn't the President's fault. The White House press corps tossed him a load of softball questions, which is about typical of today's newsmen and women. Not one of them really challenged him about the pork in the so-called stimulus package. If someone had asked why is there $4 billion in there for ACORN to assist with "neighborhood development," and how does that stimulate the economy, I might have taken their efforts more seriously.

But President Obama won't be required by a weak fourth estate to justify anything. The ultimate nonsense question came from an effeminate little fellow from the Huffington Post who, almost in a fit of pique, demanded to know if the new administration would pursue criminal charges against individuals of the Bush 43 presidency. To his credit, the President said in essence, "get over it and get on with life."

Huffington is the journalistic equivalent of the obnoxious little kid who was routinely de-pantsed after school. They make a lot of noise indignantly taunting anyone to the right of Lenin. It is recognized as anything but objective, except by the other press institutions who must let it continue to exist because they are amused by it. But Huffington is rarely a player in national affairs.

With the straightest of faces the President said there are "no earmarks" in the stimulus bill, and urged its passing. If only they could have got him to admit there are indeed earmarks there that will not stimulate anything--even just one pork chop--it might have been possible for me to take the whole thing seriously. So they are either lazy, very subjective, or not very bright. Or all three. I have a little insight here, I was a journalism major; I can see clearly what the press corps is up to. Or not up to.

And how does the President figure it won't pass the Senate? There are enough "RINO" senators to easily put it through. Maybe, just maybe, he was concerned it wouldn't pass if he knew women across the country were angered to action because he held up "The Bachelor" for an hour!

What is wrong with Minneapolis anyway?

Apparently metropolitan Kansas City, Missouri, is one of the least desirable cities to which people might choose to move. A new study [who paid for this one?] has polled people who want to move from their present city and asked them which locations they consider most desirable. We are fifth up from the bottom in a list of 50 or so. Only Minneapolis, Cleveland, Cincinnati and Detroit are considered worse places to which one could relocate.

This raises all kinds of questions--
Is it the weather; hot summers, chilling winters and the annual tornado fest? [Also no tidal waves or earthquakes.]
Is it the 'cowtown' image? [No cow poop on my boots.]
Is it the lack of mountains, beaches or national parks? [And lack of touristas?]
Is it the do-nothing City Council and the Funk-and-Squit show at City Hall? [Hard to argue this one.]
Is it the hi-crime city center? [Yeah, where else is crime this rampant?]
Could it be disdain for stereotyped Midwest overall-wearing bible-thumping, plain-speaking rednecks? [Talk about prejudice...]

Probably all of the above and more. I think there is a prejudice against us Midwesterners in the east- and west-coast dominated media. We often seem to be the national retarded child kept in the basement, a source of great civic embarrassment of which little is spoken and of which little is inquired. Unless of course the President and staff are looking for a place to store the Gitmo terrorists, figuring they will die on their own of boredom once installed in cells at Fort Leavenworth.

Well here is hoping we have the last laugh. Homes are most reasonable here. Gasoline is most reasonable here. Starbucks is on every corner. Good restaurants are everywhere [you know, even the uppity kind with $35-dinners displaying lots of white plate and few edibles which are so popular in trendy Greenwich Village and Marin County.] The mountains and the Gulf are a long day's drive at hand. The air is fresh and we have four distinct seasons. In 90 short minutes you can stand in the majestic silence of the Flint Hills or at the edge of the Ozarks, by yourself on a gravel road truly away from it all.

So this is a good poll for us. DON'T MOVE HERE! Stay in Santa Barbara, Austin and Boston. I mean, gee, the rush hour already lasts from 0730 to 0815. Let's not add another 10 minutes to it. And, hey, have some tender corn-finished Connecticut beef for dinner tonight!

Now if only we could start over with the Mayor and City Council...

Methinks he doth protest too much.

My wife toils as a fund raiser for a parochial high school. She is good at it and respected in her circles for her efforts. One of her duties is to maintain alumni data and hear their concerns. On occasion, she is just amazed at what people will do.

Most of the alums are supportive and have good memories of a very positive high school experience. But she got a call the other day from an alum of some years distant, angry and demanding to know why he hadn't been notified of his class reunion. He challenged her with "Why is it all I ever hear from you is 'give us money, give us money'? I am close to telling you to remove me from your mailing list."

She explained that the reunions were handled by people from each class, not directly by the school. And seizing the moment she told him that he had indeed received notice of many alumni social events to which everyone was invited to participate--some of them after football games, at anniversaries of the school's founding, at the annual campaign celebration, at commemorative masses, at the school golf tournament; even invited to mail in personal news to publish in the quarterly newsletter. "You have been invited to join in all of those things," she said to this fellow who lives right here in town. "And we don't ask for money at most of them."

The man was unmoved, snarling that he indeed must be omitted from further mailings. She complied, but later, on a whim, looked him up in the school's gift records.

He had never given a dime to the school. Not one red cent.

Everyone has a first day

OK, here goes. This is my first posting.

Today is February 5th. I was ever so happy to wave goodbye to January this year. It was cold -- yeah, I know it is supposed to be cold in north Missouri in January but it seemed colder than usual. My younger daughter was in a car wreck, but thankfully she is fine. Her car, which she loved, is totaled. [I have to admit I liked it too.] And we got the new President for whom I did not vote. You have to like the guy just for wanting the job, but I really hope he doesn't follow through on some of the things he said he would do. But that is a discussion for another time.

The bleakest aspect of January wasn't the snow or the grey clouds but the loss of one John Cherne. John died Jan. 27th, still a young man at 66 years old. He had been the TWA station manager here in Kansas City for many years, having worked his way up from the ramp. John was a big bear of a man, and a Type A personality. You never had to wonder what he was thinking or what he thought of what you had just done. He was quick to let you know. While I didn't work for TWA, I did work for companies that brought me into contact with him so I knew all about him. He roared at his employees when they misbehaved or erred, which was often. Some resented him but most knew that he was a good-hearted fellow with a short fuse and an imposing posture. He was equally hard on fuelers, the FAA, and particularly the City Aviation Department, which is the airport 'landlord.' None escaped his wrath; he discriminated against no one. But he always had a good word for me or a funny story or a choice description about the latest gaffe from the City or TWA., and I genuinely liked the man.

After TWA was consumed by American Airlines, the TWA managers were forced out. John quickly became the local manager for Delta Global Service, telling me every time I saw him what a great experience DGS was compared to TWA. Gone was the union/management bickering, the lack of corporate leadership, the antics of employees that made the airplanes run late or not at all -- and the failing of the company itself. Not dealing with all of that comforted him and I am glad he enjoyed his last few years at DGS.

Few of those who worked with him realized how generous he was with his time at St. Therese Church, as a volunteer at the hospital or in years past with Scouting. He really loved his family and was there for them. He knew everyone, befriended many and believe me, they all showed up at his wake.

I remember when my dad died one of my grandfather's friends told me "God takes the good people when they are young." Perhaps that is the case. I think those of us who knew John are all a little richer for having known him.

So I am glad to put January in the rear-view mirror. February gets us a little closer to Spring, and how can that be bad?