Tuesday, October 28, 2008

I'll be in the bunker 'til it's over

I just got finished running all my traps. The CNN electoral map. The poll of polls poll. HuffPo. WaPo. Stanley Fish.

It looks like Obama has a clear field for the rest of the week. Even Joe Scarborough said there is no way McCain can win. Barak would have to lose and it would take an "October Surprise" of historic proportions for that to happen.

That's what scares me. Democrats have this way of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory (does anyone remember 2000? 2004?) and they (we) seem pretty good at it. In fact, this election has been ours to lose from the beginning. For a while there (April, May), we seemed determined to self destruct.

For the last few weeks, Tia and I have stayed in the safety and comfort of the echo chamber. You know, the liberal, elite media ... the outlets mentioned above plus Salon.com, NYT, MSNBC prime time (Chris, Rachel and Keith; Keith may be a blow hard but he's OUR blow hard), Jon and Steven.

From now through next Tuesday, I'm going to be very careful that no unauthorized (considering our sources, perhaps I should use air quotes here) news source finds its way into our home.

We'll just stay in the bunker 'til it's all over.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Did Alcoa really benefit Milam County?

I just finished reading Cameron Mayor David Barkemeyer's effusive praise of Alcoa in the Oct. 23 issue of The Cameron Herald. I mean no disrespect to the mayor or to his opinion of Alcoa's impact on Milam County because, in may ways, he's absolutely correct.

However, not everything that company did was beneficial. Defining a company's legacy in strictly economic terms often overlooks less tangible costs.

Yes. Many Milam County residents earned good money working in the smelter and a lot of locals owe their moderately comfortable retirement checks to Alcoa. But, an unusually high percentage of them were exposed to toxic levels of asbestos and other poisons, and many of those have contracted fatal lung cancer — despite the fact that Alcoa knew in the early 1950s that asbestos exposure could have all sorts of ugly side effects.

I'll also grant that the presence of Alcoa had a positive impact on our tax base and, without that tax revenue, some of our governments will have trouble providing essential services. On the other hand, for the vast majority of those 50 years in Milam County, Alcoa polluted our land, our water and our air. Our children will pay those environmental costs, whatever they turn out to be.

And, sure ... Alcoa spent a lot of money on parks, grants, athletic fields, schools and what have you. By some standards, they poured a small fortune into Milam County. But, they also made a lot of money. Make no mistake, the money they handed out (and paid out in the form of salaries and taxes) was a pittance compared to the amount of money they made off their Rockdale operations.

In the end, Alcoa showed its true nature — as big companies like this will do. Under the cover of a spat with Luminant (the company they sold their generating capacity to) and a national economy in flames, they simply abandoned a community that had been its faithful partner for over 50 years.

I wonder who got the best of that deal? I'll lay odds that it wasn't us.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Celebrating 13 years of that good old pine box commitment


I sometimes joke that we got married on Oct. 22, 1995 because the Cowboys had a bye and we could probably get most of our families to attend.

We did announce our intentions to wed rather suddenly and with very short notice (how quickly can you get married in Texas? Marry her now before she changes her mind!) so the fact that America's Team didn't dominate Sunday's tube probably helped with attendance that afternoon at the VFW Hall near Lake Belton.

It wasn't a big crowd. Maybe 30, 35 people, mostly family. My kids, hers. Mom couldn't make it from Pueblo in time and brother Daniel was stuck delivering the Sunday San Antonio Express News but both of Tia Rae's parents were there. So were all her siblings. So did Dad and my brother, Eddie and a double-handful of important friends and colleagues.

It was emotional, we all had a good cry. Beers were consumed. So was a table-full of donated barbecue. Later, we noted that the bingo signs were in just about all the decent photos of the event. One wit noted the propriety of the location, as this represented a second swing at that pine box commitment for both of us; we were both veterans of the wars.

So, maybe that's why it was no big deal when she suggested we not make a big deal out of our anniversary this year. Frankly, we try to celebrate our commitment to each other every day — at least, in some fashion.

In fact, we're doing a lot, right now. We're remodeling the house and that's soaking up just about all our money and excess energy. We're going to New York City the weekend before Christmas (in lieu of Christmas presents) and that pretty much wiped out the few shillings we had left.

Further, we usually "buy something for the house" rather than going overboard with nights on the town or gooey gifts; rather, we save that sort of thing for Christmas and birthday.

Still, the day must be marked. Thirteen years may not seem all that long a time to be married, but, in these later days, it's still worth noting. Okay, a high school buddy just reminded me that she's been married 25 years (all to the same guy! Go figure!) and a local couple, with whom we share a love of fine food and wine, spades, community theater and Longhorn football (and basketball and baseball), will soon celebrate their 35th. So, I acknowledge that there are many couples our age who've figured it out.

No, 13 years isn't all that long a time to be married. Just a lifetime ... and no time at all.

She calls me her kite-flyer and she's my kite. Fellow travelers in more ways than one. Best friends. Lovers.

Happy anniversary, sweetheart! Thank you for being you!

The Ragged Edge: Despite absence, teaching continues

Note: This column was published in February 3, 2005 in the Cameron Herald.

One of my earliest clear memories of my father is of the time I decided, in first grade, that I didn't need to go to school.

I walked to school every morning - I know I'm dating myself when I say that I grew up in a time when a first-grader could safely walk to school but there it is - and just decided to stop and play behind the railroad tracks that ran between our house and the school. That's where Dad found me.

He was probably frustrated with his first-born and likely scared to death but I don't remember him being too angry or upset. We spent the rest of the day at his office where I played with the memo graph machine (one of my favorite pieces of old office equipment) and generally made a nuisance of myself trying to help him put out the church bulletin.

I don't know how I came to the erroneous conclusion that I didn't need to go to school. Skipping school was not really an option for other first-graders but I don't remember much cognitive dissonance over the event. Since I wasn't really a model student but was given to daydreaming and inattention to my schoolwork, I suspect I avoided school that morning out of a dread about my grades. In fact, I remember a very serious conversation with Mrs. Sessions, my principal, after that. She attended the church where my Dad preached and I think lived down the street from us. She was a nice woman but that visit was scary and I stopped having trouble with my grades.

But while that is the only clear memory of Mrs. Sessions, it is one of many I have of my father. Like how he tried to keep 20 or 30-cents in his pockets on Sunday mornings.

After church services were over, Dad waited in the Narthex to speak with members of the congregation as they exited. My brothers and I always showed up for money for the soda machine. We were sorely agitated those Sunday mornings when he forgot. I know he was often annoyed with us because we could be pretty bratty.

We drank Grape Nehi. Well, sometimes my younger brother would drink Orange Nehi but he was a nonconformist. I'd drink Orange only if the machine was out of Grape. Later, that particular brother rooted for the Redskins and the Vikings while the rest of us rooted for the Cowboys. I think he did it on purpose. He's still sort of contrary that way.

Dad was usually pretty tolerant of our mischief, until we got in the car. He tried very hard to be patient with us but he had three sons, four years apart and he and Mom liked to Go Places. Like Harlingen and Odessa and Kingsville and Shreveport and St. Louis.

We didn't make it very easy for him and he occasionally lost his cool when we sat in the back seat and taunted each other mile after mile after mile (Are we there yet? Stop touching me!).

I've been thinking about my Dad for the last couple of weeks. I now realize that I should have paid more attention to my memories of him. I'd have been a lot better prepared for my own children. As it is, I've recalled these memories a bit late. My oldest children already think they are adult and that teenage girl is generally hopeless (alas, she already loves puns).

But, it demonstrates that your parents have a lot to teach you, even when they re no longer around.

Monday, Jan. 31 was the second anniversary of his death. Last Friday, I took a detour coming home from Sealy so I could visit his grave in that little Czech cemetery near Dime Box. It's kind of odd - but not at all wrong - to see his strong Saxon name mixed in with the Kovars and the Mareks and the Hrnicrs. He spent nearly 20 years ministering to some of those people and that's where he wanted us to bury him so we did.

It's a pretty site, on the top of a low hill near the church. Even when the winter leaches all colors but brown out of the landscape, there's a beauty to that hillside.

He still has much to teach me, even though he's gone.

I miss him.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Not for the faint of heart


We're remodeling our home.

Tia says that we're just redec-orating but I don't buy it. Sure, we've re-painted just about every room in the house in the last couple of months. Does new carpet count as redecorating? How 'bout DIY laminate floors?

Oh, and we ripped out the wall between the dining room and the living room. And the ceiling in the living room so, really, there's a new ceiling, too.

Is that remodeling or redecorating?

Whatever ... we're doing it, mostly ourselves. And, it looks like there's a light at the end of the tunnel. Hopefully, we'll finish up the dining room next weekend then all we'll have left is laying the floor int he dining room and kitchen and installing thresholds and quarter-round in, well, nearly all the rooms.

Still a lot of work, I know, but we can actually sweep the floor and expect it to stay moderately clean for more than an hour or so. Further, we're no longer living in a 24-hour construction zone.

And one day, if we're very, very good and very, very diligent, we'll actually finish.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Can McCain find honor?

We were in the liberal echo chamber last night and saw the video of an embarrassed John McCain forced to defend Barak Obama.

He should be embarrassed.

Gawd, I hope he figures out what's been happening at his rallies. His silence condones the tone of these terrified hate mongers, and it looks like they are all who attend any more.

Baltimore Sun editorial yesterday said what I wrote below, but did it much better.

Have a little shame

It shouldn't surprise me, I suppose. After all, I live in rural Texas.

But, when an election official in my hometown told me that an awful lot of folks who identify themselves with the Democratic Party simply could not bring themselves to vote for a black man, I was taken aback. And disappointed.

After all, we've gotten past all that, haven’t we? Haven't we?

Well, perhaps I'm just naïve … because we haven't.

Many of these people should know better — should, at the very least, feel a little shame for uttering those words out loud ... and, I cleaned the statement up a bit for consumption in a family newspaper.

But, I suspect too many of them feel it's perfectly natural to distrust a black man in power, though I'm at a loss to explain why anyone should feel this way.

Over the last couple of months, I've wanted to look at my conservative friends (and I have many of them), pat them gently on the cheek and, in my best baby-talk voice, ask, "What's the matter, does the mean black man scare you?"

I think he does. I think Barak Obama’s obvious intelligence, grace and poise terrifies an awful lot of rural Texans. His very existence challenges the prejudices they learned growing up, then perpetuated at their own kitchen tables.

This week, I got an email from another close (conservative) friend bemoaning the fact that, unless the stories about his “character and past associations” don’t surface soon, Obama will win the election.

He may not have meant it that way but those are code words for “the color of his skin.”

It also appears to be the only real topic at the most recent rallies for the Republican presidential ticket. They can’t talk about the economy or the war so they indulge in race baiting. My friends, that’s plain scary.

No, I’ve heard neither John McCain nor Sarah Palin actually say the words “terrorist,” or “black man” or “Obama” in the same sentence but the angry vitriol spewing from those attending the rallies is enough to make sane people fear violence. And that neither of the candidates (and that would be John McCain, the war hero, and/or Sarah Palin, the devote Christian) slapped down those bigots yelling the racist and discriminatory slogans is unprecedented. Even the conservative arm of the mainstream media is appalled.

Desperation will allow otherwise reasonable people to commit heinous things but McCain’s lack of a reaction is tantamount to encouragement. When the ostensibly reasonable people at the top of the ticket of a major national political party tacitly encourage race-baiting and violent language toward any ethnic group, it won’t be long until we see actual acts of violence toward that ethnic group. Especially in places like rural Texas where we’re not even a couple of generations removed from Jim Crow and the mob.

I’d expect this from the tattered remains of Strom Thurmond’s Dixiecrat party, or from supporters of Gov. George Wallace’s aborted presidential run, not from someone like John McCain. Is he really so desperate?

It’s one thing to disagree with a politician’s stand on the issues. Frankly, if you’re really paying attention, you won’t agree fully with everything ANY politician says … if you do, you’re lying to yourself or that politician is lying to you.

Further, it’s perfectly acceptable to vote against a politician you disagree with — heck, I could make the argument that it’s your civic duty to get out and actively campaign against the candidate.

But, have the decency to admit to yourself, if to no one else, why you’ll cast your vote the way you will.

And, if that reason has more to do with the color of a person’s skin than it does with that person’s political philosophy, be very ashamed.