Thanks, Adam and Phil


As we contemplated a foot of new snow covering our "nothing-should-really-be-this-long-and-wide" driveway, two wonderful things happened.


Our good neighbor Adam appeared with his snow blower to clear most of the white stuff.


Puxatawney Phil appeared above ground to forecast an early spring.


Thanks, guys. We needed help . . . and hope.

Bad Strategy, Lefties


Ultra-liberal Democrats over the past several months have focused on discrediting Sarah Palin, while she busily cashes in on her popularity with the Tea Party by promoting a profitable book, appearing on her own television show, collecting paychecks from Fox News, and accepting hefty public appearance fees.


Actually, any sort of liberal nowadays is either a Democrat or an Independent. When relics such as Senator Olympia Snowe move on, which will be soon, there will be no place in the Republican Party for anyone who is not a conservative of one stripe or another. Already, there is darn little room for the more moderate conservatives.


What a change from the days of my youth. The Republican Party was born in Wisconsin (at Ripon). I also was born in Wisconsin. My progressive Republican parents hated any government waste of taxpayer dollars, and they had equal disdain for the Democratic Party, especially its members of Congress from the “solid South” who fought vigorously against civil rights legislation. My parents backed public education, anti-trust legislation, and tolerance of all in religious matters, including those who had no religious beliefs.


We seem to have turned 180 degrees. Republicans started the trend that has given us the biggest federal government deficits in history. They have blocked, or tried to block, any advances in social justice. They have undermined public education with policies designed to aid alternatives. They have removed restrictions on business consolidations, thus curtailing the very competition they give lip service to. Conservative religions are A-OK with the GOP, but those with other views are vilified as un-American.


Democrats, who earlier included our worst bigots, nominated an African-American for president. They restricted government excesses and produced the only federal budget surpluses in recent years. They more recently passed legislation to restore some semblance of control over financial institutions that were running amok and nearly caused a world-wide depression with their actions. They back many social programs abhorred by conservative religionists. Sixty years ago, most members of conservative Christian churches were Democrats.


And now, the Democrats, last haven for liberals in our society, are making a big mistake. They are trying to remove Sarah Palin from the political arena with all manner of criticism at every opportunity. If they’re smart, they’ll rethink that activity.


Sarah Palin is the best thing that has happened to the Democratic Party in a long time. Liberals should stop demonizing her. They need her as a Republican candidate for President in 2012.


There is nothing to stop Palin from running for the Republican nomination except the liberals’ attack strategy. She has enough Tea Party followers to make her a candidate. She can be stopped only if the Demos succeed in portraying her as totally without qualifications to the extent that a large number of the less-rabid conservatives oppose her.


If Palin stays in the running and loses the nomination fight, which is likely, her campaign will have fractured the Republican Party, probably guaranteeing a Democratic victory. What if, against the odds, she were to win the nomination?


Can you image Sarah Palin in a nationally televised debate with Barack Obama? Poor Ms. Palin would look silly when squaring off face-to-face with Mr. Obama to discuss policy issues.


There are more independents, like me, than either Democrats or Republicans. I can tell you right now how most of us would vote after watching the spectacle of Palin trying to match wits with Obama. The vast majority would not favor Mama Grizzly.

Staying Power

I watched in disbelief as Chicago Bears quarterback Jay Cutler stood on the sidelines nursing a sore leg while his team dropped the National Football Conference title game to the Packers yesterday.


Like Cutler, I suffered a leg injury just before the end of the first half. My left ankle cramped up as I jumped off the sofa when the Packers made a key defensive stop.


Nevertheless, I managed to hobble to the kitchen for another glass of wine to sustain me through the second half. A little leg injury wasn’t going to keep me out of a title game.

A Sort-of Hometown Hero


I should have puffed up with pride when a photo of a ferocious-looking footballer appeared in the University of Wisconsin alumni magazine with this caption: “Mike Webster as a Badger: the Tomahawk, Wisconsin, native was drafted by the Pittsburgh Steelers in 1974 and played seventeen seasons in the NFL . . .”


Like all small communities, my hometown hasn’t produced a big crop of famous people, so a legitimate hero means a lot. The trouble here is that referring to the man who became known as “Iron Mike” for stellar play that took him to four Super Bowl victories and a berth in the NFL Hall of Fame as a “Tomahawk native” is stretching things.


Webster’s parents were potato farmers north of Tomahawk, but Mike went to school and played high school football at Rhinelander, which is about 18 miles from my hometown. The Rhinelander High School stadium is named for him.


Although he ranks right at the top in discussions of the best center ever to play pro football, the sport did not treat Webster well. He suffered numerous head traumas, was hooked on painkillers by the time he retired, had bouts of amnesia, depression, and dementia, and died while still a young man. His family sued the NFL for disability payments in 2006 and won a $1 million judgment.

The lawsuit and attendant news stories did much to raise the level of concern about effects of concussions on athletes. The topic is on the front-burner today throughout the sports world.


The Webster family saw to it that Mike made a contribution to the cause of better protection for athletes. After he died, his brain was sent to the University of Pittsburgh. There, a pathologist did an autopsy resulting in the first diagnosis of CTE, a condition caused by years of absorbing blows to the head. That made Webster the first NFL player to receive that diagnosis, a research breakthrough upon which others are building as they study effects of repeated jolts to the head and how to prevent the damage.


Webster’s posthumous contribution may turn out to be his finest. He became a hero, hometown or not, once again after he died.


The pro football anti-heroes right now are the greedy owners trying to convince the players’ union to agree to expand the schedule by two for a total of 18 games. This is unconscionable with ample scientific evidence in hand that damage from repeated head-knocking is cumulative.


My favorite club, the Green Bay Packers, is a nonprofit corporation and thus has no greedy owner. We small-fry shareholders should be watching closely on this one to see what position our representatives take. Clearly, the players’ health should be the top priority.

Beck, Right and Wrong

Ultra-conservative television commentator Glenn Beck got the big idea right last week. But he stumbled badly on some of the key points in his analysis.


Beck was right on when he attacked the Congressional leaders who arranged a reading of the Constitution and then left out significant parts. Among the omissions were the original article that declared slaves equivalent to three-fifths of a vote and the amendment that forced Prohibition upon the land.


Beck said the sponsors of the reading were “cowards” for allowing the omissions “because they didn’t want to offend anybody.” I think descriptors such as “misguided” or “stupid” might have been better fits.


The whole concept of the reading was ridiculous. The representatives must take an oath to uphold the Constitution and many ran on platforms in the recent elections pledging to follow it literally, so we might assume they had a glimmering of an idea about what it says. The fact that only a couple dozen stayed around for the conclusion of the wasted hour and a half of reading testifies to that.


The sponsors of the reading did not exactly rewrite history, but they certainly twisted it seriously with the omissions. Any sort of historical revisionism is deplorable, whether it covers up the fact of slavery in our nation or takes the form of censorship of textbooks in Texas. Whether Beck was correct or not in charging there was an element of “political correctness” in the Congressional action, I stand with him in condemning revisionism for any reason.


An earlier news report said a publisher was in the process of issuing a “cleansed” version of Mark Twain’s classic “Huckleberry Finn.” More than one student of American literature believes this book is among the greatest American novels. Why? Because Twain was the first to abandon the stilted formal English of earlier novelists and have his characters speak the language as common people of the day did.


So now a publisher intends to rewrite the sentences in which Huck calls his friend Jim a nigger? Rubbish, I say. Not one word should be altered.


To wind up his tirade against the Congressional leaders, Beck obsessed about the value of the Constitution: “this document is great for one reason: they left in the scars.”


Poppycock. Our Constitution is great because of the foresight of its authors in creating a government with checks and balances and guarantees of basic freedoms that is flexible enough to accommodate changes in society, yet has kept would-be religious or political dictators from seizing control of our nation for more than 200 years. Scars have nothing to do with it.

Our Promise 

The right mix for the USA


                                                                   
A Cocktail Party
Pledge



The American Cocktail Party pledges, in all our activities, to vigorously argue against the policies of our opponents. We promise, however, to refrain from personal attacks on those who do not agree with us. We will discuss programs and proposals, not personal characteristics, and avoid inflammatory language and symbolism.

Now if the leaders of both traditional political parties and commentators on radio and television would join us in this pledge, maybe, just maybe, there would be no more Tucson massacres.

(Our best wishes for a speedy recovery to fellow blogger Ashleigh Burrows, who was shot three times by the perpetrator of the Tucson crimes.)

The Consistent Mystery


Every New Years Day, I look forward to two things. Gifts and good wishes from family are one. A birthday greeting from John “Jake” Jirschele is the other.


Once again, the family came through. So did Jake, at about 8 a.m. on January 1.


Jake Jirschele lived a couple of blocks up the street from my childhood home in Tomahawk, Wisconsin. He was in the class behind mine in high school. I haven’t seen him for about 50 years, but I remember him well. Obviously, he remembers something about me very well.


Jake was consistent, as I recall. He stroked every shot as hard as possible in Spike’s Pool Hall, whether it was a long one or a four-inch “gimmee.” He made a lot of them, and bounced a few cue balls off the walls in the process. He fired off shots from outside the circle (three-pointers nowadays) with reckless abandon on the basketball court. He made a few of them. When he itched, he invariably scratched. Where? Well, we won’t go into that.


When it comes to my birthdays, Jake has been equally consistent for a long time. We connected to the Internet as soon as that became possible. Early on, we added Jake’s addy to our list and knew he had ours, but we rarely corresponded. The first New Years Day we could receive e-mail, to my surprise, Jake sent me a happy birthday message.


How did he know? The first greetings arrived many years before my birth date became readily available to the world through this Blog and, more recently, via Facebook. Jake has remembered the big day every year—probably about 15 times—since his first message. Each time I ask him how he knew New Years Day was my birthday. He has never answered the question. Either he has a very long memory or a well-maintained calendar.


The Jirschele birthday message always includes wishes for good fortune in the year ahead. We’re planning on making those wishes come true.


Everything here is Jake, Jake.


For you youngsters, that saying is said to have become popular in the 1920s and still was heard often during my teenage years. “Everything is Jake” means “everything is OK.” I hope it applies to John Jirschele as well as to our present situation and our prospects for 2011. Maybe Jake will even answer my question this year.

Take Heart, Fellow Geezers

I’m not so sure all those experts who claim fully mature adults develop short-term memory losses are correct.

When I was 17, my high school baseball team traveled 20 miles to play one of our big rivals. Upon arriving, a frantic search revealed I had forgotten my catcher’s mitt


My son just phoned. He bought some herring to serve yesterday while we celebrated New Years Day at his place. It’s a family tradition. He forgot to serve the herring during the seven hours we spent together.


After all, it’s not a catastrophe to forget a few things at any age. I borrowed another guy’s mitt for the baseball game, and although that didn't work out so well at least I didn't have to rely on my bare hands.

We’re going to our son’s house in a couple of hours to snack on the herring. Some forgetfulness doesn’t spoil much of anything; it just extends the celebration.




The right mix for the USA

To Your               

Good
Health   

A Cocktail Party
Progress Report 
                          
The Cocktail Party platform committee is working diligently on a national health care position statement. So far, the members have been unable to reach a consensus. What’s new about that, when health care is the topic?

The committee, however, has announced one important bit of progress. It has adopted a slogan for the health plank:

“Of all things that won’t cure a cold, martinis are best.”

Here’s to you—Happy New Year!

Be Happy, Don’t Worry

‘Tis the season when many contemplate wondrous births and the mystery of death and what may happen then. So it seems appropriate to offer up a few thoughts.

Most people I know have no reason to fear death. If there is an afterlife and they are ushered into heaven, they’ll be pleasantly surprised. If there is no afterlife, it won’t matter.

The odds are different for the few who seem to have dedicated their lives to behaving badly. They might do well to worry a bit.

Whatever you believe about your inevitable departure, the geezer hopes you will put aside any concerns about it and enjoy a very Merry Christmas.

What Power (?)

Geez, just days after my post urging Congress to repeal the "don't ask, don't tell" policy on gays in the military, Congress actually did that.


Unfortunately, no evidence indicates that any members of Congress read Cocktail Party opinions. One library board member does, though. Does that count?

Open the Closet Door

A Cocktail Party Position

Opponents of the military’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy toward gay servicemen and women are trying to ram through repeal legislation during the dying days of this Congress. The Cocktail Party hopes they succeed.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell” is bad policy. The American public recognizes that, as poll after poll shows a growing body of opinion that all our citizens deserve equal treatment under the law. Recent polls show most military personnel hold the same view, although some, primarily in the Army and Marines, disagree.

The policy was different, and more unfair, when the Cocktail Party chairman served in the U.S. Army in the late 1950s. At that time, any member, or potential member, of the military could be asked about their sexual orientation. An admission of homosexuality kept the individual from enlisting in the service or resulted in a speedy dishonorable discharge.

The 1950s policy apparently was effective in keeping “queers,” “homos,” or “dykes” (today’s “gays” sounds much more civil) out of the military, or deeply hidden within it. Your party chairman served nearly two years in a huge unit (850 enlisted men) in the Sergeant Major’s office, where just about everything was known about everyone. Not a single man was discharged for gay conduct or admitting to being gay. No one was even suspected of being gay.

A WAC battery right down the street was home to several hundred women. The old soldiers among the men claimed that most of the older enlisted women and many WAC officers were lesbians. Your chairman never saw or heard of any concrete evidence to back up those assertions. Certainly, there was plenty of evidence that a large number of the younger WACs were straight. Pregnancy discharges were fairly common, and intimate boy-girl conduct was commonplace.

No doubt gays have served in our armed forces throughout history, but they had to stay deep within the closet to continue their careers. The prospect of immediate discharge, or worse, must have been a constant nightmare for them. In the 1950s, a gay soldier would have been shunned by his comrades at best, and probably would have been subjected to physical violence in many units. Then, he would have been discharged.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” adopted during the Clinton administration years, made service by gays at least more possible and safer. But, this is 2010, not 1955 or 1995. It’s a good thing that attitudes and policy have changed on the side of justice, but now the policy needs to change once again to match current public attitudes and meet ethical standards.

The Cocktail Party firmly believes it is morally wrong and indefensible for any human being to be forced to lie, or worse, to live a lie, to have the opportunity to begin or continue any career, including military service.

Showing Your (?) Colors

Those with a sharp eye will recognize a Bucky Badger and University of Wisconsin “W” adorning son Lee’s apron pocket as he and fiancée Karen took a photo op break from preparing this year’s Thanksgiving dinner.

With Wisconsin on a football roll toward the Rose Bowl, the UW emblem was only fitting. What didn’t fit is that Lee is a University of Minnesota grad. I gave him the apron a few years back.

It was a retaliation gift. Lee had presented me with two Golden Gopher golf sweaters and a cap. The cap had a big Minnesota rhomboid emblem. I tried, not very successfully, to make the cap work to my advantage.

My golfing partners in Utah had no idea what the block “M” represented, and when they asked I informed them it stood for “Money,” and that’s what I intended to win during that day’s round. The theory was my brazen statement might rattle opponents and negatively affect their games. Of course, once they saw me play a few holes any edge I had acquired evaporated.

When Lee was a Minnesota student, Sandy and I would journey to the Twin Cities for U of M-UW football games. Lee visited Madison with us when the games were played there. He went one up in the family rivalry one year when he lulled me into trusting him to buy the Madison tickets. Our seats were right next to the Minnesota band. The proximity to the loud “Here’s to the U or M” guys had the desired effect of drowning out my feeble “U rah rahs” for Wisconsin.

Karen is a Purdue University grad. She’s not big on football rivalries, and thus takes a more adult approach by wearing an apron devoid of school colors. However, if she decides to pull some sort of sophomoric stunt on the geezer, she may qualify for her very own Bucky Badger apron, or perhaps a nice chef’s hat with a cardinal “W.”

Economics vs. Common Sense

A Cocktail Party Analysis

One of the least publicized, but most onerous, provisions of the Obama-Republicans compromise on tax legislation is the item that would reduce social security tax withholding by two percent throughout 2011. This sounds like a winner for American workers. It’s a potentially huge loser.

The tax holiday was recommended by economists, according to news reports, as a very effective way to quickly pump money into our struggling economy, thus creating jobs. That could possibly be correct, although it would be easy to find a bevy of economists holding other views. The old adage usually holds true—“If you laid all the economists in the world end-to-end, each would point in a different direction.”

In this case, the Obama economists have only theory in their corner, as economists often do. They have no real proof that this kind of pump priming will create or preserve any jobs. In this case, if those who favor this tax holiday have a sound argument for their position, we have yet to hear it. It would be a quick injection of spending power into the economy, that’s all. It surely would create some profits for businesses. Anything else is conjecture.

What Obama’s advisors and he are ignoring is the bigger picture. They say the $120 billion or so cost of this gift to working people will be repaid to the social security trust fund from “other general revenues.” Truth is, we have no “other general revenues” available to pay much of anything back. Our public treasury is trillions of dollars in the red, and projected to be so for many years into the future.

The social security trust fund at the moment is in the black. It has large reserves invested in special U.S. Treasury bonds. But, the treasury must make good on those bonds not many years from now, when annual social security payments begin to exceed payroll taxes collected to support them. At that point, social security starts going broke, and many years from now would become able to provide only a fraction of today's benefits. That’s just what the guys who negotiated with Obama want. They want to kill social security.

Do you believe that a year from now there will be a rising groundswell of public opinion for the government to take money away from all working people by restoring social security payroll taxes to current levels? Damn right there won’t. It would be political suicide. Once this gift is made, it will be very difficult to take it back.

The fact is that Social Security financing would be much less solid, a welcome development for those who want to destroy the system. They would use that as an excuse to privatize the system; that eventually would kill it. Gambling in the stock market with funds that now go into the social security trust fund offers no safety, and social security was designed to be a safety net.

Common sense says the temporary “gift” to workers should be dropped from the tax settlement. It is bad public policy that would endanger the future of social security, a truly successful insurance program that allows millions of worthy American citizens to live out their lives with a measure of dignity.

The Cocktail Party strongly recommends that this smelly part of the tax compromise be poured down the drain.

Angels Among Us

Wealthy Americans for years have bestowed gifts of higher education on individuals and groups of students whose families’ modest means could not finance college attendance. I know of two such situations from my teen years in Tomahawk, Wisconsin. The work of financial angels in each case got similar results, but the details of how help was given were quite different.

Tom Higgins was a classmate and good friend who probably was the best basketball player in the history of our high school. In one game, against a school with three times the enrollment of ours, Higgins scored 46 points while the entire opposing team had 44. He was twice named to the all-conference team as a center, although he usually played guard or forward, which he could do equally well.

Higgins was slightly above average as a student. He worked hard in school, but academic scholarships would have been beyond his reach. Attendance out-of-state at an excellent university would have been well beyond the financial reach of his family.

A prosperous Notre Dame alumnus made sure Higgins attended his school. The alum, coincidently, lived in Merrill. The Merrill High School team was the one Higgins single-handedly outscored. The alum paid all of Higgins’ school expenses not covered by his athletic scholarship. “All” meant every single thing, including costs of clothing and transportation from school to home during breaks. When Higgins thought he had met the girl of his dreams (as it turned out, she wasn't the one), the sponsor financed a beautiful diamond engagement ring.

The alum’s good work was far from anonymous. Before Higgins left to enroll at Notre Dame, his sponsor threw a party at his Merrill home for anyone the basketball star wanted to invite. I was among the invitees, but I couldn’t attend. Those who did said it was a big, grand, and probably very expensive party.

As a freshman, Higgins was the sixth man on the Notre Dame varsity basketball team playing guard. He was on the squad again during his sophomore year. But then, for reasons unknown to me, he dropped out of the basketball program. His angel, however, didn’t drop out. He continued his financial support until Higgins graduated. Higgins had a successful business career; he became a vice president of a firm operating in the Green Bay area.

Higgins died while a fairly young man, which is why I feel free to write about his personal situation. The other classmate I knew who had an educational angel is very much alive, and I think he might be embarrassed if I identified him. So I’ll call him Sam.

Sam was an above-average student who was serious about hitting the books. Sam’s family was no more prosperous that Higgins’ and Sam had no chance of any financial help with higher education expenses from relatives.

A Tomahawk businessman, who insisted on anonymity, paid most of the expenses, including out-of-state tuition, for Sam to attend a well-regarded university in a Midwestern state. Sam graduated in four years and enjoyed a long and successful career in a technical field.

The businessman had no direct connection to Sam or Sam’s family. He just learned of a deserving young man and stepped in to make sure Sam had an opportunity for advanced education. I know the identity of the angel, because my father was well-acquainted with him. Dad slipped once and told our little family about the educational sponsorship. None of us ever revealed the identity of the angel, and I won’t now.

The two angels from my youth did good things. I’m sure there have been many individuals like them in other places. But when we moved to southwestern Michigan, I learned how educational angels can accomplish incredible things when they decide to combine their efforts.

Their work is called The Kalamazoo Promise.

Five years ago, a group of anonymous donors, assisted by a local educator, launched a program that provides free tuition to any public college or university in Michigan for qualified graduates of Kalamazoo public schools.

To date, the unidentified angels have given $21 million dollars. Individual gifts can cover tuition for a full four years. They can range from a smaller percentage of total costs up to 100 percent, depending on how long the student’s family has resided within the school district. Students must perform satisfactorily to qualify, and if they do, they must maintain 2.0 grade point averages in college to continue in the program.

Results of the promises kept have been little short of amazing. Since 2006, the first school year for Promise students, some 1,900 high school grads have begun receiving advanced educations most would not have been unable to afford. Fifty-six have graduated with bachelor’s degrees.

The majority of tuition money has gone to the University of Michigan, Michigan State University, and Western Michigan University, but 15 schools are eligible, and Promise students now are attending 14 of them.

The students are graduates of Kalamazoo’s two public high schools and three alternative schools. Unlike many other school districts in Michigan, especially urban districts, enrollment in Kalamazoo schools is increasing. Educators report significant strengthening, year by year, of a college-going culture. Advanced Placement enrollment has increased by 71 percent in the past two years, and the rate is even higher for African-American and Hispanic students.

Observers say the Promise has changed the entire culture in the Kalamazoo public school system virtually overnight. Every student who performs satisfactorily has a chance to go on for higher education. Students are working for, and taking advantage of, the opportunity. Eighty-five percent of eligible white students have used the Promise. Eighty-four percent of eligible African-American students have.

No one claims the Promise is a cure-all for improvement in the public schools, but it brings hope. Children who never could have considered higher education now routinely make it their goal. That seems to be a cornerstone anchoring many other programs for positive change in the schools.

The Kalamazoo Promise structure (for details, go to http://www.kalamazoopromise.com/) is adaptable to other districts, and similar programs have begun to spring up around the U.S. Some are supported by tax dollars; some are financed by various combinations of individual and business donations. Some are public-private partnerships. All promise hope.

Great things can happen when angels flock together.

Look Out, Turkey

In Jerry Kramer’s Farewell to Football, the author describes a gridiron invention claimed by his fellow guard Fuzzy Thurston. The Green Bay Packers were thrashed by the Detroit Lions in a contest on Thanksgiving Day, 1962. One reason for the beating was a lack of effective pass blocking, especially by guards Kramer and Thurston.

The Lions sacked quarterback Bart Starr 11 times, a league record. After the debacle, Thurston joked that he and Kramer had invented the “lookout” block. He said throughout the game the guards would make unsuccessful attempts to block charging opponents, and then yell, “Look out, Bart.”

Well, maybe Thurston and Kramer launched the first lookout blocks in the National Football League, but they certainly were not the first players to use the term. A pair of high school gridders practiced a version of the “lookout” 10 years earlier.

In 1952, I played right guard and my pal Gordy Newborg was the right tackle for the Tomahawk Hatchets, a Wisconsin high school team somewhat less renowned than the Packers, and not nearly as fearsome as its name implies. Newborg intensely disliked one of our halfbacks. I wasn’t too fond of the guy, either. During most practice scrimmages, the back usually managed to infuriate Newborg and antagonize me in one way or another.

When that happened, Newborg nudged me as we broke the huddle after the halfback’s number was called. He whispered, “Let “em in.” We would fake blocks, turn, and yell, “Lookout.” The “play” usually resulted in two hefty defensemen bashing our mouthy halfback before he could get under way.

Hair-splitters may claim that the ineffective Klade-Newborg blocks were intentional, and therefore not the same as the Kramer-Thurston “lookouts.” That’s true. If the Packers had known of the Tomahawk play, perhaps they would have yelled, “Sorry, Bart; Lookout,” to better define their modification of our invention.

One thing’s for sure, they didn’t yell, “Happy Thanksgiving,” but that’s my shout to you today.

In Grateful Memory

Sp. Shane Ahmed (U.S. Army), 31, Chesterfield Township, Michigan. Killed November 14 in Afghanistan. Buried today at Fort Custer National Cemetery.

Practice What You . . .

Only two restaurants within a five-mile radius of our home provide what we would consider fairly elegant dining. Establishments offering fast-food and down-home meals abound.

One of the latter, a “Big Boy,” is a favorite of the locals. It features hearty fare and generous portions at reasonable prices. We go there sometimes when I get an overwhelming urge to forsake my usual healthy morning stuff for a traditional bacon and eggs breakfast. The “Big Boy” crew excels at whipping up tasty breakfast dishes.

During our visits, we have noticed an unusually large number of mature adults among the clientele. Not all are there for breakfast; our observations of order deliveries indicate great variety in what the elder diners consume.

During our latest visit, Sandy reminded me of a recent post (Oct. 7, “Ya Gotta Know When to Play ‘Em) advising readers not to be bashful about requesting discounts. She asked if “Big Boy” offered any. I confessed I’d never asked, but said I was sure they did not. “Ask anyway,” Sandy advised me in one of those wifely tones that is not to be ignored.

When our waitress stopped by, I said, “I’ve noticed a lot of old people in here. Any chance you have senior discounts?”

That got a giggle as she appeared to quickly correlate her estimate of my age with my comment about older customers. It also got a surprise positive response. “You belong to the Big Boy Seniors Club, don’t you?”

“What’s that?”

“Oh, club members get a punch card. Every time you have a meal here we stamp your card. When the card is full after ten visits, the next meal is free.”

Assuming geezers last long enough to make it to ten meals, that sounded like a 10 per cent discount to me. Ten per cent reductions are among my favorites.

The restaurant manager was working the cash register that day. “What do I have to do to get a senior punch card?” I asked.

“Hold out your hand,” he said.

“Can each of us have one?”

He plopped Sandy’s card on top of the one he had placed in my palm. Both were stamped with the date.

It’s a good idea to ask about discounts—and it’s not a bad idea to practice what you preach.

In Grateful Memory

Pfc. Shane M. Reifert (U.S. Army), 23, Marine City, Michigan. Killed in an attack in Afghanistan, November 6, 2010.

The Commander Salutes Some of Us

The national commander of the American Legion, Jimmie L. Foster, is:

a. An expert at flip-flopping.

b. A man with a very short memory.

Or,

c. A blatant liar.

Just in time for Veteran’s Day 2010, my local paper published a lengthy letter from Foster under the headline “American Legion Strives to Represent All Veterans.”

Headlines sometimes misrepresent stories they introduce; however, in the fifth paragraph of his letter, Foster said, “. . . from its inception, the Legion always has maintained that a veteran is a veteran.”

Bullshit!

As the Geezer pointed out last Veteran’s Day (11/12/09 and 11/16/09 Posts), the Legion denies membership to several million honorably discharged veterans because they did not serve during the Legion’s definitions of “wartime.” I am one of those. My two years of honorable service (1958-1960) in the U.S. Army don’t mean a thing to the American Legion. Neither would 20 years of service by a Marine whose enlistment ended on Dec. 6, 1941. How ridiculous is that?

Was I not exposed to danger when men in my unit were returning from service as “advisors” in Laos and Cambodia, even though officially we were not at war in Southeast Asia? I could have been sent just as they were. One sergeant in my unit gave a speech at a class I attended in which he described how he directed artillery fire onto the Chinese mainland. When’s the last time we were at war with China? Was my hypothetical pre-World War II vet never at risk during two decades of service in which he pledged to serve his country however and wherever he was ordered to do so?

Perhaps Foster just forgot the facts for a moment. Two paragraphs later, he said, “If you honorably served our country during wartime (emphasis added), you have a home in the Legion, period.”

Hum, he must suddenly have remembered the Legion’s membership rules. Or, more likely, he knew them all along and just tossed in the corrected definition because the thrust of his message was not to reconcile with veterans like me who the Legion sees as “second class,” but to try to recruit women and minority “wartime” vets, whom the Legion tended to ignore for many years.

Foster could spearhead a drive to correct the injustice of the irrelevant dates of service restrictions. Because the Legion is suffering significant membership declines, such an effort by the organization’s leader would have a high chance of success. Don’t count on him doing that. Many Legionnaires, some of whom served much of their active duty time in the Officer’s Club, are not eager to have their heroic images sullied by allowing any second-class vets into their club now.

Foster concluded his letter with the final insult to what the Legion perceives to be second-class veterans:

“On this Veterans Day, let us thank God for the gift of freedom made possible by those who served our nation with honor, courage, and commitment in our armed forces during all wars (my emphasis; he uses the Legion’s definitions here, no doubt, again ignoring the Cold War period) that enabled so many of them to earn that coveted title of an ‘American veteran.’”

How nice of him to imply that we “peacetime” vets are not veterans at all and did not serve with honor, courage, or commitment. Whatever Foster is, a., b., c. or something else, I will not salute him today. But I will salute ALL my fellow veterans, regardless of gender, color, or dates of service.


Thank you for your honorable service, my comrades.

Who’s Team?

Claims by Dallas Cowboys’ fans supported by many television announcers that the Texas club is “America’s Team” long have rankled Green Bay Packers’ fans.

We think our 100,000 stockholders spread across the nation entitle us to that title. We also think many more people in many places without an ownership stake root for the Green and Gold week after week, seeing our heros as the classic small-town guys up against the big-city slickers.

The fact that the Cowboys have notched so many victories against the Packers rankles even more. It just didn’t seem fair that our hired guns were out maneuvered so often by theirs, and it happened more than once in recent years when playoff advancement was at stake.

Sandy and I have not been south of the border for some time, but we once were frequent visitors. Cowboys’ uniform replica shirts and t-shirts were everywhere. Mexican youths seldom were seen in clothing featuring Packers’ insignia. We never met a Packers’ stockholder in Mexico, except for fellow tourists.

It’s doubtful the situation has changed much, although there probably are some residual green and gold number 4’s still hanging around in Cabo, Cozumel, and points in between. Most Packers’ fans have disowned that guy, anyway, so shirts honoring Old No. 4 shouldn't count.

After Sunday night’s 45-7 thrashing in Green Bay of the boys from Texas is it fair to say “America’s Team” finally crushed “Mexico’s Team?”

How sweet it was.

Swept

It was a clean sweep. Not a single Cocktail Party candidate prevailed in Tuesday’s elections. This was not the stunning setback some may think. The party did not back any candidates.

Never fear. The Cocktail Party (see 8/5/2010 Post, "Coffee, Tea, or . . . ) is merely saving its ammunition for the big one—Campaign 2012. The presidential race started about five minutes after the polls closed in most places and even earlier in some places.

We believe millions of those eligible voters who failed to exercise one of the great privileges of American citizenship and did not bother to cast a ballot in the midterm election include many closet Cocktail Partiers who heeded this wisdom from Kin Hubbard:

“We’d all like to vote for the best man, but he’s never a candidate.”

The Cocktail Party will rectify this situation as we plod toward November 2, 2012. We will develop a strong slate of candidates. Along the way, we will be staking out positions on important matters in words that cannot possibly be misunderstood.

We will create some unique proposals, but also borrow thoughts from others just as we lifted the Hubbard quotation for a website titled “Time Goes By.” We may or may not credit those we steal ideas from.

We expect to glean very few useful thoughts from current members of Congress or those who belong to other political parties.

Still Undefeated

The records of only two pseudo lawyers are known to me—mine and that of William Shatner, who portrayed the zany attorney Denny Crane in “Boston Legal” on network television.

My memoir, Days With The Dads, included a tale about my 2007 triumph in small claims court as a representative of our homeowners association. I won by uttering a couple of sentences after the defendant failed to show up. Nevertheless, I concluded that real attorneys earn their keep, and announced my retirement from matters legal with an unbeaten record—one for one.

Shatner was retired when the network cancelled “Boston Legal” after six seasons. We find few television programs worth watching once nowadays, and none except this one worth viewing twice. Currently, we are enjoying reruns of the comedy show.

Denny Crane famously enhances his legal legend at every opportunity by loudly intoning his own name. Through usually strange machinations, he claims to have won every case in his long career. After each victory, he proclaims:

“Denny Crane . . . Still Undefeated.”

I came out of retirement as a pseudo attorney two years ago when our first property tax bill showed an assessed value nearly $40,000 higher than what we paid for our new home in Michigan. Sandy and I appeared before the township tax review board to protest. We thought we had a great case, including photos and documents and a carefully rehearsed presentation. The board members listened politely and then curtly rejected our claim in their decision letter.

That sent me to the Michigan Tax Tribunal with an appeal of the board’s decision. Taking the action was a bit scary. Aren’t tribunal decisions known to be followed by firing squads? In this case, the frightening part turned out to be the paperwork and the length of the process. I had to send a brief of my argument with supporting documents, and then wait more than a year to gain a hearing.

During the wait, our township surprised just about everybody by announcing a 17 per cent reduction in 2010 assessments for most residential property, including ours. I fired off a copy of my letter from the assessor to the tribunal with an amended argument that this action constituted on admission by the township that the tax review board was dead wrong in denying my 2009 claim.

Minutes before my appointment to plead our case before the tax tribunal, our assessor called my name in the courthouse hallway. She was accompanied by a tribunal judge.

“I apologize,” the assessor said. “You shouldn’t have had to make the trip here. You were supposed to get a letter, but something when wrong. I reviewed your case, and you are right in all respects, especially in light of what happened with the general tax reduction. You’ll be getting a refund check after we calculate your corrected rates.”

The check will be nice, but once again, folks, legal work ain’t easy for those whose only encounters with the bar were to order refreshments. So I am officially retiring from the courtroom scene (including hallways) once again, but I do so with pride:

“Dick Klade . . . Still Undefeated.”

In Grateful Memory

Spc. Joseph T. Prentler (U.S. Army), 20, Fenwick, Michigan. Killed by a terrorist bomb, Afghanistan, October 4, 2010.

The Fatty Factories

Agreement seems general that Americans are getting fatter, posing significant health problems that negatively impact the overly plump ones and our society in many ways. Perhaps most distressing are numbers for school-age youths.

We are told 10 million youngsters ages 6-19 are overweight, and a good many of them are obese. A recent study indicates the number of overweight kids in each class increases as the students grow older.

Recently, I had an opportunity to chat with the local superintendent of schools, and the talk turned to high school athletics. The superintendent said she was very pleased that week to have hired a well-qualified athletic director. I said I wondered why a high school needed a full-time athletic director.

It turned out I was a dinosaur on the subject. The local school district and the one in my hometown are roughly the same size. When I was a student (1949-53) the entire sports program in the Tomahawk, Wisconsin, district consisted of high school boys’ football, basketball, and baseball, plus small intramural basketball programs for boys and girls. The Plainwell, Michigan, schools superintendent said her district sponsors 72 team sports! She was right; Plainwell needs an athletic director.

Assuming this dramatic increase in the number of organized sports activities over a half-century reflects national trends, something doesn’t add up. Why the dramatic increase in the number of fat kids at the same time?

It is possible that junk food diets, more prevalent today than when I was growing up, contribute more to the national overweight problem than does a lack of exercise. However, health professionals are in agreement that both good diet and exercise practices are needed to develop and maintain healthy lifestyles.

One factor may be a decline in physical education training. A 2008 study by the Center for Education Policy found many schools cutting back on physical education because of financial pressures or curriculum priorities for other types of instruction.

Another study, reported in 2007 by the Centers for Disease Control, found 22 percent of schools had no physical education courses at all. Only 3.8 percent of U.S. elementary schools, 7.9 percent of middle schools, and 2.1 percent of high schools offered daily physical education classes for the entire school year.

If school boards are serious about doing their part to help slim students down, they might get serious about slimming down the number of team sport offerings.

Many team sports allow only a few students to participate. The cost savings of eliminating some of them could finance physical education programs for all students. Information on good eating habits ought to be included in the instruction.

Easily Identifiable

The University of Wisconsin colors are cardinal and white. Ohio State University’s colors are red and gray. Thus it was no surprise when announcers for Saturday’s nationally televised football game between the two rivals several times described the scene at Camp Randall Stadium in Madison as a “sea of red.”

Old fraternity pal Thor Thorsen was among the 81,000 spectators. He phoned fellow Sigma Nu Bob Hirsch just before the game started.

Thor said, "You won't have any trouble spotting me at the game if you're watching on TV. I'm wearing a red shirt."

Sorry, Martyrs

I’ve just seen some rather startling statistics showing increasing sexual activity world-wide among teenagers and even pre-teens.

If present trends continue, soon one powerful motivation no longer will be available to recruit Muslim terrorists.

It won’t be possible to find 70 virgins in heaven.

In Grateful Memory

Sgt. Anthony D. Matteoni (USMC), 22, Union City, Michigan. Killed in combat, Afghanistan, October 1, 2010.

Ya Gotta Know When to Play 'Em

In an entertaining post, blogger Joared (her site is “Along the Way”) told of a twinge of embarrassment when she played the age card to get her air conditioner fixed promptly during a southern California heat wave. I once was reluctant about asking for senior and other favors. Not any more.

Some 20 years ago, I snorted in disbelief when told a friend had joined the oldsters at the Golden Hours Senior Center in Ogden, Utah, the day after she turned 50. Our friend’s husband was a retired Marine Corps colonel, who was collecting a hefty stipend every month courtesy of Uncle Sam. In addition, he had collected an even heftier sum a few years earlier as the sole beneficiary of his wealthy mother’s will.

Our pal was resolute. She said she saw no reason not to take advantage of free lunches (a $2.00 donation was suggested, but not required) and numerous other perks available at or through the Senior Center. “After all,” she said, “I’m now officially a senior, and I deserve what I can get.”

Our friend was right. We’re not regulars at senior centers, but we have learned not to hold back when playing the age card or other special cards we hold will produce a winner. Discounts and freebies are all around us, and there’s no reason not to take advantage of them.

Although chains often aren’t the finest eateries, we many years ago became fond of several menu items and the atmosphere in Applebee’s restaurants. Last year, I was amazed to hear an elderly lady at an adjacent table ask for the senior discount. The waitress said, “Sure,” and knocked 10 percent off the tab. Applebee’s had provided a 10 percent senior discount for all the years we’d eaten there, but they never advertised it. You had to ask for it. Now that we’re in the know, I ask every time.

Lowe’s offers a 10 percent discount on Memorial Day and Veteran's Day to all veterans, and at all times to active service people. Home Depot matches the perk. But, again, vets must request the discount and they may have to show some evidence of their service. We’re remodeling our home and improving the landscaping. We’ve saved hundreds of dollars with those discounts.

If a little junk food is in order, Wendy’s is one place to get it. You can go there and pay the regular prices, which most do, or, at least here in Michigan, you can first visit a web site (www.MichiganWendys.com) and get coupons that will cut your burger tab in half. And, if you’re a senior and ask for it, you can get a drink for pennies and get a free refill as often as you go back.

If you have a personal hang up about asking for a discount, try a little humor to put yourself at ease. My favorite tactic is: “I know you find it hard to believe I’m a senior. But I am. Do you have a senior discount?” That almost always brings on a smile, and occasionally nets a discount I wasn’t expecting. The world can use more smiles, and we can use more discounts.

It pays to be alert and do a little detective work. My local newspaper published a story on utility costs. Buried near the end was a brief description of a Senior Citizen Electric Credit of $3.00 per month if the household head is over age 65. I checked out the company’s web page and learned to my surprise that no income levels were involved, and I was eligible. It took 10 minutes to make a phone call and sign up.

The bad news is I missed $63 in credits that could have been mine had I been on the ball and checked out utility perks when we moved here. However, figuring we will gain $36 over the next year, I took Sandy to lunch in celebration—at Applebees using a senior discount, of course.

“Ask and it shall be given you. Seek and ye shall find.”

Good biblical advice. And on a more secular note, when you’re dealt a handful of aces—play them!

The Cocktail Party is Tolerant

A misguided Salt Lake Tribune reporter recently suggested to a local representative of the liberal Coffee Party that the organization might do better in the Beehive State if it changed its name to “The Postum Party” or something similar. The Coffee Partier acknowledged his small group had caved in to local pressure when it provided mostly fruit punch and water at its first meeting.

Although coffee is served almost everywhere in Utah, sipping the stimulating beverage is contrary to the “Word of Wisdom,” and therefore strongly discouraged by the Mormon Church. The usual Cocktail Party refreshments fall into the same category. We cannot expect a surge in Cocktail Party membership in Utah.

On this issue, the Cocktail Party stance is clear and firm. We will not consider name changes that detract from the essence of our mission statement: “To serve the people of the United States by creating an excellent blend of good government and personal freedom.” We assert that “Cocktail Party” strongly reinforces the “blend” concept, and therefore is entirely appropriate for us. We refuse to pander to other viewpoints merely to recruit a few members.

The Cocktail Party, however, is tolerant of all. When attending meetings, you may bring your own bottle, or bottles, of anything you choose. We provide hot water as well as hot air, so you can whip up a nice cup of hot chocolate or an exotic tea if you like. Or, you can mix a hot toddy. It’s your choice entirely.

Cocktail Partiers value individual freedom. We think what people drink is irrelevant to what is in their heads and hearts, unless, of course, they fuzzy up their mental and physical processes with too much of the good stuff.

Sideline Humor

In 1964, I assumed much good humor was to be found in sports.

When my publisher at the Wisconsin Rapids Tribune decreed I would write a weekly column on subjects of my choice, I decided to end each offering with a sports joke. Some national stories were available from a news service we subscribed to. I was sure I could find enough humor in and around local sporting events to fill in any blanks and end my column with a rib-tickler every Wednesday.

I was overly optimistic. Despite efforts by many comics and writers, there really weren’t all that many good sports jokes around. After a couple of months, I dropped the “leave ‘em laughing every Wednesday” strategy for want of material. That dearth of sports witticisms hasn’t changed much in the ensuing 45 years. But on Sunday morning, I think I “heard a good one lately.”

I was telling a dedicated Detroit Lions fan of my intent to root hard for the local favorites that day, for two reasons: (1) my beloved Packers were idle, and (2) the Lions were playing the Vikings. Minnesota would be led by an aged quarterback named Favre, who readers of this blog may know is not one of my favorite guys.

“Didn’t you hear the news this morning?” the Lions’ booster asked. “They’ve renamed the team. From now on, the Lions will be known as the Detroit Possums. It makes sense. They play dead at home, and get killed on the road.”

He said it; I didn’t. The “Possums” played true to form that afternoon. They suffered their 22nd consecutive loss on the road, which ran their record to 40 losses against just 3 wins since the midpoint of the 2007 season.

Even a joke at the Lions’ expense eases the pro football pain around here.

In Grateful Memory

Senior Airman James Hansen, Athens, Michigan. Killed in an explosion, Iraq, September 15, 2010

On a Clear Day

Mike Hathaway, who I worked with in the Forest Service’s Eastern Regional Office before he became Supervisor of the Nicolet National Forest in Wisconsin, recently sent along an entertaining list of fun phrases. The statements were created for Lexophiles, people who are lovers of words. Lexophiles favor wordplay when they try to create a bit of humor.

The phrase that tickled me most was the first one on the list:

“I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger. Then it hit me.”

Another item on the list, although a bit more of a groaner, reminded me of a story:

“When the smog lifts in Los Angeles, U.C.L.A.”

Smog obscures the landscape in several other places out West. I lived in one (Ogden, Utah) and occasionally traveled to another (Missoula, Montana) on Forest Service business.

Missoula was one of my favorite cities to visit. I liked the friendly people who lived there and the generally easy-going ambiance of the small city. However, temperature inversions often could blanket Missoula with thick fog mixed with air pollutants, creating dense soup very much like the more-famous L.A. smog. It happened fairly often.

Jim Blaisdell, an Assistant Station Director when I worked at the Intermountain Research Station, was in considerable demand as a master of ceremonies for special occasions. He had a dry wit and a talent for using it inventively. Blaisdell had worked in Missoula early in his career.

A visitor from Montana to Station Headquarters learned of Blaisdell’s earlier assignment and asked how he had liked living in Missoula. Blaisdell said, “Well, we lived there almost six years. One morning the fog lifted and we found out it was a pretty nice place."

Instant Legality

About four years ago, the genealogy bug bit. My modest response to the itch was to google around a little on the Internet to see if any Klades would turn up in Germany or thereabouts. One did—a resident of Bremerhaven, a principal port city.

That was especially interesting, because family lore held that Grandma and Grandpa Klade both sailed from Bremerhaven to America in the mid-1800s. They did not emigrate together, however. They met and married in Wisconsin.

My German e-mail contact’s husband was a Klade who grew up in Austria. That also was interesting, because no American Klades I knew ever mentioned any Austrian Klades. The wife wrote to me because her husband was not fluent in English. She did very well with the language, and we exchanged many messages before the cyberlink was broken. Her address stopped functioning; I never learned why or was able to reestablish the contact.

We failed to establish any links between the American Klades I knew about and the Central European variety. Toward the end of that exploration, I asked about access to documents in Bremerhaven that might provide some details about the early days of my grandfather and grandmother. “Are you sure you want to do that?” my pen pal asked.

She said the local Prince who reigned over the area that now includes Bremerhaven decided to empty as many of his prison cells as possible to save money. He turned robbers, rapists, murderers, and other unsavory characters loose if they would agree to sail to America and never come back. To smooth the way, the Prince provided phony birth certificates and other documents. Many young German men, who violated laws by avoiding military service, joined the jail birds. Often, they used fake identities to get out of Prussia, Bavaria, or other Germanic countries and into the U.S.

“A lot of German-Americans were criminals,” my contact said. “There’s no assurance your relatives weren’t among them.”

We are a nation of all types of immigrants. Slave ships delivered many. Indentured servants stayed once they worked off the costs of their passage. Many fled political or religious persecution or economic deprivation. And, the official stamp on questionable documents at Ellis Island instantly converted many of our ancestors from illegal to legal arrivals.

Perhaps a dash of humility would be in order to temper some of the current intemperate rantings about illegals.

No Words Came

It was the ninth anniversary of 9/11. I was not feeling well. I was late getting out in the rain to properly display my flag to honor 3,000 innocent people killed by a gang of thugs.

I spent some time standing in the drizzle looking at Old Glory dripping raindrops like tears.

I tried to write some memorable words to say how I felt. Nothing came.

I took a photo as the rain let up. It will have to do.

A Total Jerk

Terry Jones is pastor of a 30-member, off-beat Christian church in Florida who intends to burn copies of the Koran on Saturday in remembrance of the 9/11 attacks on the U.S. Jones, who has been called a “dangerous fanatic” by members of a church he founded earlier in Europe, certainly is that. He also is a total jerk.

Of course, our Constitution allows Jones to burn Korans as long as he does it within the context of applicable laws and regulations. Jones has ignored the procedural part of the free-speech freedom. He intends to proceed despite the fact that local authorities rejected his request for a burning permit.

The list of those who have urged Jones to back off is impressive. Sarah Palin called his plan “an unnecessary provocation.” Secretary of State Hillary Clinton deplored the idea, and a member of her department called it “un-American.” General David Petraeus said the book-burning could “endanger our troops and the entire operation in Afghanistan.” The Pope condemned the plan from the Vatican. Other Christian and Jewish religious leaders world-wide have implored Jones to cancel the Koran burning.

Jones, at least at the moment, says he will go ahead anyway. One reason he gives for burning a book 1.5 billion people consider holy is to “honor the souls” of 9/11 victims. Does he include the souls of 59 innocent Muslims killed in the attacks by the jihadists?

Jones says he fully supports our troops, and is distressed that his action may endanger them, although he will go ahead anyway. Do those he supports include the 15,000 Muslims currently serving their country in the U.S. Armed Forces? It seems unlikely this poor excuse for a Christian will find a way to honor and insult those brave men and women at the same time.

Cocktail Party Explodes

Just a month ago, the Great American Cocktail Party was launched right here (“Coffee, Tea, or . . . “ posted 8/5). Membership has quadrupled in the few weeks since the organization unfurled its banner.

And there, folks, you have two examples of what to expect lots of in the weeks ahead as we move toward Election Day in November. Many think we can’t get there fast enough.

The headline is designed to get your attention and compel you to read what promises to be an interesting item. The problem is, it has little to do with the actual story. This sort of sensationalism has been raised to a fine art by reprehensible rags like the National Enquirer, a “junk journalism” publication many of today’s internet authors and radio and television script readers seem to have adopted as their model.

Cocktail Party membership indeed has quadrupled. The deception here is one of omission. Membership was on the low side to begin with.

With a little practice, one could become expert at phony headlining and statistical manipulation. That could earn a lucrative job as a talk show host. And, if the editorial black arts were practiced adroitly with charts and graphs accompanied by raving and ranting, the perpetrator could become a famous television commentator.

Although the body politic may have been under whelmed by formation of the Cocktail Party, a few individuals were whelmed to some extent. Bill Hamilton, who retired as national head of publishing in the U.S. Forest Service, signed on and even suggested a motto for the fledgling party:

“A politician should have a pimp for a brother, so he’d have someone to look up to.”

Hamilton, a stickler for accuracy, was quick to point out that this statement originally chastised editors, not politicians. It appeared in "The Portable Curmudgeon," by Jon Winokur, 1987.

As an ex-editor, I winced upon learning that. However, considering the number of “editors” who love to conjure up sensational headlines and story lines and let all sorts of phony statistical usage and analyses get into print and on the airways, perhaps the slap was deserved.

They Also Suggested

The recent (7/22) post, “Let Me Suggest,” an uncomplimentary review of the Geezer’s experiences with suggestion systems, brought a flurry of reports from retired U.S. Forest Service folks about their unsatisfying encounters with the organization’s system.

Malcolm Furniss, entomologist and Project Leader, Intermountain Research Station, said he remembered the system as “Mickey Mouse.” He recalled receiving three $25 suggestion awards over a lengthy career, but said the ideas were so insignificant he can’t remember what they were. Furniss also recalled an associate getting an award for suggesting that employees should save paper clips.

Al Groncki, State and Private Forestry in the California Region, said he devised a form to make it easy for those considering retirement to analyze their financial situation. The calculations could be complex. His suggestion was adopted for national use. Why are we not surprised to learn the award was for $25? Groncki said he doubts today the form or references to it could be found within the Forest Service. Years ago, Groncki used the form to help out in an important personnel matter, so he thinks the government got its $25 worth.

At higher levels, sound suggestions could be ignored. Larry Lassen, who served as Station Director at the Southern and Intermountain Research Stations, said in his latter years with the Forest Service he frequently suggested that national meetings of Regional Foresters and Station and State and Private Forestry Area Directors (RF&Ds) should be less frequent, could have substantially shorter agendas, and ought to involve fewer individuals.

During Lassen’s career, the RF&D group numbered 20. Various others were invited to give presentations or just sit in for a while. I was drafted to help provide support for one RF&D meeting in Salt Lake City. Four of us devoted nearly two full days to routine support, and the number of individuals in the meeting room was 30 or more most of the time.

Of his frequent suggestions during critiques that the meetings be scaled down, Lassen says, “Alas, it seemed that the number of meetings increased and the number of non-RF&Ds increased.”

Tom Harlan, long-time Public Affairs Officer who retired as an Assistant Director in the national office, gets my vote for the best story. Harlan began by offering the opinion that employee suggestion awards “have to be in the most dysfunctional category of the public sector.”

Harlan recalled an incident from his early days in the 1960s at the Rogue River National Forest in Oregon:

"An employee got tired of having mops and brooms and other cleaning equipment thrown all over the broom closet. So he filed an employee suggestion that hooks be installed on the wall so the implements could be hung from them (he got a cash award for the idea).


"About a year later, the same employee made a suggestion that the hooks be removed from the walls because people kept gouging their heads on them. So the hooks were removed, and the employee received another cash award."

“How’s that for a great system?” Harlan asks.

How, indeed?

My blog post ventured into the private sector with some criticism of suggestion arrangements at Borgess Medical Center in Kalamazoo. The result was a prompt phone call from a gentleman in Customer Service at the hospital who had read the post. He apologized for the original failure of hospital staff to call me, and solicited my ideas about the suggestion system.

The phone call was a very nice response to my complaint. I was especially pleased that no mention of $25 was made.

Two Dumbs Don’t Make a Smart

Just because you can open your mouth doesn’t mean you should. Often, that's not smart. Just because you can erect a building where a whole lot of people don’t want it doesn’t mean you should. Usually, that's not smart.

Our President is an excellent speaker, but once in a while it appears his mouth starts working before the idea is fully developed. Such was the case that added fuel to The Great Mosque Controversy.

Barack Obama could have stayed out of the whole matter, which would have been smart. Instead, he uttered a basic truth one day—that we have religious freedom in the United States and we should defend it—and qualified the statement the next day—he was not going to make a value judgment about whether or not religious freedom should be exercised by building a mosque in downtown New York City near the 9/11 attack site.

Taken out of context as I’ve just done, the two statements seem harmless. But the context is that a significant number (20 percent or so) of Americans believe two falsehoods about Obama. They think he was not born in the U.S. (he was born in the State of Hawaii) and that he is a Muslim (he was baptized by a United Church of Christ minister more than 20 years ago, and regularly reads the Bible). Despite the truth of the matters, anything Obama says or does to reinforce either of those unfounded beliefs damages him and his political associates.

The rest of the context is that a very large number of Americans are suspicious about Muslim beliefs and intentions. After all, that was not a group of Seventh Day Adventists who launched attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. Those are not roving bands of Baptists killing our young men and women in Iraq and Afghanistan.

American Muslims could best counteract the distrust by assuming activist roles in the fight against terrorists and speaking out against them at every opportunity. That would demonstrate their good intentions to their fellow Americans. Building a mosque near the 9/11 site would have the opposite effect. The intent certainly is not to exacerbate Judeo-Christian ill will. The reality is it would do just that, and the mere idea already has done so.

It seems fair to say American Muslims can expect more sympathy and tolerance from a government controlled by Democrats than one dominated by Republicans. The New York Muslim group shot themselves in the foot with the mosque proposal. They handed the right wingers in the GOP in issue they will use to their advantage in November election campaigns. The mosque issue will help energize GOP activists, and give party candidates some votes from independents they might otherwise not have received.

Although he was morally and ethically correct with his first statement and sensible with the second, Obama hurt his party’s chances in the Congressional elections by elevating the discussion to center stage when he chose to make presidential comments about the issue in the manner he did.

Dumb and dumb.