Blah blah Ginger

We celebrate the wrong things

2009-07-04T11:43:00.006-04:00

This past week, it was announced that US forces were finally pulling out of major Iraqi cities for good, as part of the steady drawdown of troops, preparatory to leaving the country entirely in the next two years. This should have been a cause of great public notice, and, I would think, a celebration. American men and women of our armed forces are going to come home in greater numbers. Our presence in a country where we probably never should have been in the first place is being lessened. The Iraqi people are getting their nation back. This is great news!

Unfortunately, the story of the American combat pullback from Baghdad was seventh on the list of news stories behind the death of Michael Jackson, the speculation on the cause of death of Michael Jackson, the outpouring of shock and grief and adulation for Michael Jackson, the debate over which drugs Michael Jackson may or may not have been taking, the plans for his memorial service and whether or not fans would be able to score tickets for said memorial service.

Let's be realistic here. This is a man who produced an enviable string of hit songs and electrifying performances in his fifty years (I thought "Thriller" was a great video, myself). However, he was also a clearly troubled soul. It's obvious to everyone now that he suffered from a nearly debilitating, and ultimately fatal, addiction to painkillers, including a drug that is so sedating it's used to intentionally create intravenously induced comas. He had this medication in his HOUSE. His increasingly bizarre stretch of plastic surgeries appeared to cause his face to nearly collapse on itself. This is not a person who ever had a firm grasp on what the rest of us would call reality. To call him freakish would do a great disservice to freaks everywhere, both living and dead. And how shall we say this next part delicately? Michael Jackson was a pedophile.

But that's what was being celebrated, and that's where I gnash my teeth. The Martin Luther King Holiday is treated as an extra day off in January, rather than a chance to reflect on the contributions of one of the greatest Americans of the 20th century. He was our Nelson Mandela; a man who's wisdom, decency and inner strength, as well has his extraordinary words, transcended the petty meanness, bigotry and hatred of his day, and showed everyone around him what the words of the Declaration of Independence really meant. Thomas Jefferson wrote that "we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness". It took Abraham Lincoln, then Dr. King a century later, to bring those words to meaning. I wish we celebrated Dr. King and his remarkable legacy every year with the same zeal and devotion that Michael Jackson has been given in the past week.

Manny Ramirez returned to the Los Angeles Dodgers' lineup yesterday. Thousands of Dodger fans showed up at Petco Park in San Diego, with Manny's trademark bandannas and dreadlocks, to welcome him back with a fanaticism of a long lost rock star. Like the late Mr. Jackson, Manny was always a unique and undeniable talent. He's arguably the greatest run-producing machine of his generation. At the same time, he's the worst possible man to hold up as a role model. He plays with indifference, a complete lack of hustle and focus, and indeed utter scorn for what matters in the game. Personal integrity is of no interest to him. The reason he's returning to the Dodgers is he just finished serving a 50 game suspension from Major League Baseball after being caught using performance enhancing drugs. This isn't "rumored" use, he tested positive. Manny cheated. And Dodgers fans are welcoming him back as a conquering hero. In the words of CBS Sports columnist Scott Miller, "Despicable. Absolutely, positively downright despicable."

Accountability seems not to exist much anymore. Like it or not, public figures such as Michael Jackson and Manny Ramirez become role models by virtue of their fame, and when they behave in a way that, if it were your child, you'd be horrified, the truth should be spoken.

Today, I celebrate the greatness of America and her citizens, the everyday heroes who protect our borders, mothers and fathers and grandparents who strive to raise their kids in a safe and loving environment, and the freedoms expressed in our founding documents, embodied by the honest, good works of people who do the right thing, day in and day out. Play the game right, fight for what's good about America, and speak up for your freedoms, but don't condone the behavior of those with whom you wouldn't want to watch the fireworks with your children sitting nearby. Celebrate with a full heart and clear conscience. And drive safely.

Life moves pretty fast

2009-06-20T08:02:00.002-04:00

...you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
Quick. What movie was that from? Anybody? Anybody? Gold star for all who immediately answered “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off”.

The line’s been resonating with me, and it’s becoming increasingly apparent that lately, it's true. I wrote in a previous post that when my job was eliminated, I not only didn’t panic, but I had a distinct sensation that I’d land on my feet, or as my late grandmother liked to say, fall forward. In fact, there’s been a persistent little voice that’s been saying “hey, it’s their loss, dude, not yours. They’re going to come looking for you again sometime and you’ll be long gone, happy as a clam elsewhere. Too bad, so sad”. (We won’t get into a deep analysis of the Voices and the inner conversations we have in this post, ok? Perhaps another time).

So back to my point: Ferris was, and is correct. I’ve had some time to work on getting my resume in order – an ongoing work in progress, and my third floor office in shape – ditto. The dogs are happy to have daddy home during the day for extra walkies and the occasional snuggle, and P likes that I can take care of nagging little errands like food shopping, CVS, etc so she doesn’t have to worry about them on a time-compressed rush hour. It’s fun to have time to cook dinner, as well. P has always been, and continues to be the most incredible partner a man could ask for, and a day doesn’t go by that I don’t remind myself I’m the luckiest guy I know.

I’m very pleased to say that prospects are already appearing and preliminary interviews (plural) have begun. Confidence breeds confidence, so when you get one organization expressing serious interest, followed by another, that makes each day so much easier. I’ve found myself quite busy every day, from before 9 to after 6, returning calls and emails, researching people and companies, networking with friends and checking items off the to-do list. No tv, no naps and no “it’s 2;00, I’m going to call it a day”.

The new laptop is on its way. I’m very excited about that. Since my time at Cybersmith, I’ve always advised folks in the market for a new computer to get the biggest, most overhorsepowered, fastest system they can afford, since the technology will be speeding past them so fast it won’t be long before they’re overtaken by the most basic, entry level units. I followed my own advice, and I think my new Dell notebook will be a pretty decent thoroughbred for a little while. It won’t have a resource crippling encryption program that would slow it to the crawling speed of a maimed narcoleptic, and the battery will last more than 20 minutes. I’m proceeding on the assumption that in time it might need to house a sizeable database that will suck up all available RAM, so in the meantime it should be plenty capable of handling lesser chores. The color will be business black.

What never ceases to humble me is how wonderfully supportive and helpful my friends and former colleagues have remained. Lots of leads, good ideas, offers to make introductions to potential prospects and a number of great recommendations, some of which were even factually accurate! Again, thank you thank you thank you to everyone, and keep the good wishes pouring in. Karma matters.

Starting the new reality

2009-06-10T12:44:00.006-04:00

First off, I want to give a huge, warm and grateful virtual hug to everyone who has written, called, emailed, texted and been so very supportive in the past week. This transition to whatever is coming next has already taught me some valuable lessons, including how very blessed I am to have family, friends and former coworkers who care so much. Thank you thank you thank you. By the way, please don’t stop reaching out. This is a marathon, not a sprint, and nobody can finish a long race without support.

Secondly, to answer the most often asked question, I’m really ok. Yes, it sucks to lose your job, but it’s happened to me before, it’ll likely happen again, and as much as it feels like a punch to the solar plexus, I know it’s not the end of the world. I’m already hard at work figuring out what’s next and how to get there. Networking, resume revisions, networking, planning, networking, strategizing, networking and a little more networking. Last night, I was given a phenomenal gift for which I’m not sure I have adequate words. I met more than two dozen friends from my now-former office in Waltham for drinks, appetizers and a lot of laughs. I received a card and a very generous gift, but the real present was sitting with my buddies one last time as a group. The way I had always characterized the company (back when it was something other than what’s it’s become more recently) was a “Three Musketeers” organization: all for one and one for all. For all kinds of reasons that aren’t relevant here, it isn’t that anymore. This group represented what made me so very proud to be there. I was part of a phenomenal team, not just of smart, dedicated and talented people (though they were all of that, to be sure). I enjoyed being with everyone. Difficult meetings, lunch, dinner, travel, client work, it was all better because of who I worked with. Of course I’ll miss my clients and the work, but it’s the coworkers that mattered most. Last night was a bittersweet reminder, but one that I’ll treasure always.

So I’ve got a new, improved resume (want to see it? Let me know and I’ll send it to you), a revised linkedin.com profile, replete with a growing garden of recommendations http://www.linkedin.com/in/davidsgreene29 , and I’m in the market for a new laptop, since although I am very much enjoying my third floor office at home, I fully expect to continue to be a road warrior in the next incarnation, and the laptop I had been using didn’t belong to me, so it had to stay when I left. Someone should probably tell the new recipient that the battery only lasts about 20 minutes. That’ll suck, but hey, it’s an SEP now (Somebody Else’s Problem…go read the five books of Douglas Adams’ Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy trilogy for the background on that).

In the meantime, along with taking advantage of new quality time with P and the dogs, I’m using this opportunity to pursue a couple things I’ve always wanted to spend more time on: writing and community service. I believe that everyone has a book inside them, waiting to get out. Not everyone’s will be a best seller, but the process of exploration through writing has always allowed me to distill inchoate emotions into something more substantive and, for me, meaningful. Don’t ask what the book will be about. I have no idea yet. It might not even be a book. Perhaps freelance writing, where I could earn tens or even dozens of dollars. Don’t rush me, sonny. You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles. (Thank you, Billy Crystal)

The community service jones goes back to my time in Washington, DC in the early 90’s. My AmeriCorps experience put the hook in me, and other than a couple summers of coaching Babe Ruth league baseball in Waltham, I haven’t had nearly enough opportunities to scratch that itch. That ends now. I’m looking into a few different local organizations, including the local Boys and Girls Club and a Special Olympics event next month. I’m sure I’ll find more. Dr. King hit the nail on the head “Everybody can be great because anybody can serve”. I’ve had the desire, now I have the time. No reason not to, I say. Besides, who knows where it will lead?

So that’s the latest update. Stay tuned, and please don’t stop the good wishes and positive thoughts. As my dear friend Myndi likes to say “It’s all good”.

One day the axe just fell

2009-06-02T18:30:00.003-04:00

My position was eliminated. That’s how I was told I was suddenly unemployed. No longer the most senior of my little group in Professional Services. Gone. Today. There’s no good way to tell someone that they’re out of a job, though my now-former VP did his job the best he could, and the way that he was supposed to. My now-former boss was on the phone, as was an HR person from our main office in Pennsylvania. “Your position has been eliminated”. Takes a minute to sink in. Sorry, Charlie. Thanks for the four-plus years, three dozen clients, eight major user community conventions and god knows how many road trips. You have until 5pm today. That’s actually far better than “we need to escort you from the building right now”. I’ve seen that happen at other places. This was done with some sense of humanity, which can’t be discounted. I had time to clean out my desk, take personal files off my work laptop, and say goodbye to friends and coworkers. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.

Everyone saw it coming, in a general sense. When your business is working with clients who are doing charitable fundraising and everything remotely related to money, charity and disposable income has just dried up like a mirage in the Sahara, there’s an inevitable trickle down effect to all concerned. The fact that I had just finished a long, difficult project didn’t matter. For the foreseeable future, I wasn’t going to be doing a whole lot to earn my keep. It also didn’t matter that I personally had no control over what gets sold and handed to me to work on.

It was a great four-plus years. Wonderful coworkers, great clients, interesting software, fascinating industry. The company had some issues to be sure, but doesn’t every organization? It didn’t detract from the bottom line, which was that I loved my job, right up to the moment that I was told I no longer had one.

The good news is that friends, coworkers, former coworkers, and even people in the industry have already started to appear out of the woodwork with good wishes, virtual (and real) hugs, and even possible leads. In the short term, I think it very likely that I’ll be doing training and consulting on a contracting basis. Long term, I’m not sure. I do know the universe’s machinery seems to be kicking into motion, and gears are turning. I don’t know how it'll turn out quite yet, but I’m not as devastated as I might otherwise be. You see, I’ve been laid off before, and in vastly stranger and scarier circumstances than today. My mom is fond of saying that you always have options, and my dad likes to say that everything happens for a reason. And they’re pretty damn smart. There is good news: P is very well employed, and the health insurance is through her company. My car’s paid off, and hers will be as of this month. And I have to simply believe, however naively, that this is going to work out. It has every other time I’ve been laid off, and I’m far more credentialed now, with more contacts and more experience. Then again, this is a lousy climate in which to hunt for a job.

Perhaps the first order of business will be a glass of red wine and some Chinese food. That's what Jews do. When the going gets tough, have an eggroll. The rest will sort itself out after that.

Stay tuned for coming episodes in the saga.

The Kindle Conundrum

2009-05-29T16:10:00.003-04:00

I have a complex relationship with technology. Of course I'm a software trainer by day, so workwise I'm pretty well lost without my laptop. The online universe remains the main conduit to the world for my job and the basis for my primary methods of communication with a goodly chunk (though certainly not all) of my personal life. Parents, family and friends who may be miles or continents away are mere clicks away whenever I want. The cell phone, iPod, laptop and GPS aren’t luxuries anymore. They’re parts of living in the society now. I’ve got two blogs of my own, I belong to a few social networking sites, and P and I text each other far more often than we speak on the phone.

At the same time, though some of the complaints of a marauding reliance on all things electronic may sound like the nonsensical ravings of fuddy duddy luddites, they aren’t necessarily off base. If you think about it, many of us are losing the art of face to face conversation, forgetting the importance and charm of writing a proper note and the appreciation of curling up with a good book. That brings me to my present dilemma: I can’t decide whether or not to get a Kindle. You’re familiar with Kindles, right? The Kindle is amazon.com’s ultra-cool, sleek, amazingly well-designed e-book reader. Amazon.com introduced its first version of the Kindle in November of 2007. They’re on version 3 now. The Kindle’s screen doesn’t look like a monitor so much as it looks exactly like ink on paper. The device is about as thick as a pencil and lighter than your average paperback. It has free, built-in internet access, and can store more than 1,500 books. You also get instant access to periodicals, newspapers, blogs, you name it. You can annotate, bookmark, browse new amazon.com offerings and download from a selection of hundreds of thousands of titles nearly instantly. The reader is $360. There’s a newer, large format edition, optimized for textbooks and full-face newspapers that retails for about $100 more. Titles are around $10 per download. The initial investment is a tad steep, but after that, it’s well worth it. The money isn’t the issue.

I’ve held one of these babies in my hand. It’s sexy as hell. There’s no other word for it. The thing just feels perfect. Light but solid, balanced and intuitively laid out. I’ve polled friends who have them, and everyone I’ve asked who owns a Kindle swears by it. They wouldn’t leave home without it, which for me is the point since much of my book reading takes place when I’m on the road, and lightening my carry on load is always key. So why don’t I own one yet? That’s the tricky part. For all my comfort with and reliance on technology, I’m not an early adopter. I don’t get gadgets for the sake of gadgetry. I’ve got a terrific cell phone which I love (and it’s a texting monster), but I don’t own a blackberry or an iPhone, and I’m not part of the twitterati. To paraphrase Seinfeld, not that there’s anything wrong with them, they’re just not me.

My problem with the Kindle has nothing to do with the Kindle per se. I love books. I enjoy the old fashioned ritual of book reading. I like checking out the cover art, and reading the marketing blurb on the back cover. I love taking the measure of a book in a store, holding it in my hand, feeling its weight, and determining whether this feels like a book I want to read. I love the ritual of reading, holding the book in my hands, turning the page, tucking my boarding pass in the back and using old boarding passes as bookmarks. I like picking it up partway through and assessing from the bookmark's position how much further I have to go to completion, and I still get a frisson of satisfaction mixed with loss when I read a book’s last lines and put it down, chalking it up once and for all in the mental read-cover-to-cover column. I admire bookshelves. Strictly speaking they're nothing but storage space, but they also tell stories in and of themselves. Although we still have a dozen boxes of books in our basement that never got unpacked when we moved to Maynard almost three years ago, I like having them, storage or not. There’s a ritual to book reading that the electronic screen can’t replicate, even a screen as admittedly great as the Kindle’s. Sony has a very good e-book reader, as do others (a coworker just got a Sony), but if I were to get an electronic reader, it would definitely be the Kindle. However, that remains an if.

The ritual of newspaper reading was easy to get over, as I have no problem reading newspapers online (I do it every day). Somehow, books are different for me. Perhaps I’ll splurge some day and take the plunge into e-bookland, but for now, I’m still conflicted enough that for the time being, I’ll stick with the actual pages, and eschew the virtual ones. I'm sure I'll break down someday, but in the meantime, if you'll excuse me, I have a paperback to finish.

Elections have consequences

2009-05-28T22:33:00.002-04:00

Elections have consequences. Judge Sonia Sotomayor will be confirmed as the first Hispanic Justice of the US Supreme Court. There’s no mystery or suspense to that statement, and there’s nothing that anyone can do to stop it, short of Judge Sotomayor withdrawing her nomination. Let’s assume that’s unlikely. What I don’t understand is why any Republicans are bothering to put up such an ugly fight. She’s eminently qualified, unlike Harriet Miers, who stands with G. Harold Carswell as one of the most laughable nominations in the history of the court. Judge Sotomayor is a classic American success story, working her way up from difficult beginnings in the Bronx to Yale Law School, the Federal Appellate Bench, and now the lifetime appointment above all lifetime appointments.

I frankly don’t understand the logic of opposing her with the ferocity we're starting to see already. To begin with, it’s pointless. There’s not a damn thing that Senate Republicans can do to hold up the nomination, since thanks to November’s electoral landslide, they don’t have the numbers. In fact, they’ll have a tough time even stopping debate. I'm bad at math and even I can figure it out. Secondly, getting too overanxious could backfire badly with the Hispanic community. Alienating another constituency isn’t a good idea when they desperately need to find someone willing to vote for their candidates in 2010. Pissing off Hispanics won't help win Florida. And third, President Obama is himself a constitutional scholar. After eight years of a man who can't spell constitution without his vice president's help, complaining about Judge Sotomayor represents the height of hypocrisy.

My take is that the reality is finally settling in with Chairman Limbaugh and the endangered, intellectually challenged base of the GOP who appear not to hear the big red clue phone ringing. Their ticket was laughed off the map in November’s election, and their numbers dwindled to near-irrelevant levels on both sides of Capitol Hill. To make matters worse, a senior Republican Senator decided he’d had enough and jumped off the sinking ship, preferring to get picked up by an enemy lifeboat. Now, when the maddeningly popular, embarrassingly eloquent and uncommonly effective President nominates a perfectly good candidate for the Supreme Court, even though saying “let’s live to fight another day” is the logical course of action, the right-wing spin cycle deems her to be unworthy, using epithets such as “America deserves better” and “racist” (that’s from both Chairman Limbaugh and Newt Gingrich). Being politically impotent seems not to be good enough. Now, they’re revealing themselves to be utterly tone deaf as well. We’ll see this play a couple more times over the next four years, and each one will have a different main character, but the same ending: a qualified candidate for the Supreme Court is nominated, gets vilified by the loony right, is called nasty names, then receives easy confirmation and ascends the marble steps to be seated on the Court.

So if yelling and screaming like a petulant toddler will be a futile endeavor from the start, why bother wasting the hot air? Face it, conservatives, you lost. Elections have consequences.

Arlen Specter jumps off the RNC Titanic

2009-04-28T19:32:00.006-04:00

Arlen Specter became a Democrat today, but he really hasn’t changed much over the years, honest. This is a basically conservative man who authored the Warren Commission’s Magic Bullet theory. He’s very strongly pro gun-rights. He’s pretty well opposed to same-sex marriage, though he supports civil unions, which is the classic “I want to have it both ways” stance. He’s pro choice and very progressive on environmental issues, but he’s the same guy who unmercifully badgered Professor Anita Hill during Clarence Thomas’s Supreme Court confirmation hearings, and accused her of “flat-out” perjury. And Senator Specter also voted against the confirmation of Judge Robert Bork and voted to acquit President Clinton in his impeachment hearing before the Senate. Senator Specter’s made a career of straddling the fence and thumbing his nose at party orthodoxy if he couldn’t stomach it. He’s a somewhat less frootbatty version of Joe Lieberman, and an unwarheroish version of John McCain. He’s annoyed Republicans almost as much as he’s annoyed Democrats. In other words, he’s a middle of the road moderate. The last straw was his vote in support of President Obama’s stimulus package. That rankled the party, and conservatives in Pennsylvania. Specter didn’t care. He can’t be pigeonholed. Back in the day, he was considered a conservative, but as he stayed put, the party moved so far to the right of him that Specter has recently found himself feeling aligned more with colleagues such as former Senators (and former Republicans) Jim Jeffords of Vermont and Lowell Weicker of Connecticut. In other words, the Republican wing of the Democratic Party.

There’s no room for Jeffords, Weicker and Specter anymore in a meaner, colder, and far smaller GOP ruled by Rush Limbaugh and Dick Cheney. Ronald Reagan would be seriously pissed off today, and I’m betting Bob Dole is right now. Not at Specter so much as the party that gave him no other option.

David Frum, the former Bush adviser and Republican strategist, said this morning after Specter’s announcement: "The Specter defection is too severe a catastrophe to qualify as a "wake-up call." His defection is the thing we needed the wake-up call to warn us against! For a long time, the loudest and most powerful voices in the conservative world have told us that people like Specter aren't real Republicans -- that they don't belong in the party. Now he's gone, and with him the last Republican leverage within any of the elected branches of government. For years, many in the conservative world have wished for an ideologically purer GOP. Their wish has been granted. Happy?"

I’ve said this before: the GOP is skidding into irrelevance and legislative impotence. They’ve spent so much time and effort pandering to their core constituency that now that’s all that’s left. It’s no longer a big tent. Today, it’s a rickety lean-to. McCain’s choice of Governor Caribou Barbie gave him no inroads in the country’s moderate center that would have helped in states like Ohio and Pennsylvania, as well as North Carolina and New Mexico.

I welcome the new, greater tent, even if it includes someone with whom I often disagree. We’re a party that has room for both Arlen Specter and Ted Kennedy. Exchanges of ideas will help everyone. Specter won’t always vote with the Democratic caucus, nor should he. We don’t demand party rigidity, just a commitment to making things better. I’m glad Senator Specter feels wanted now. It should be an abject lesson to his former colleagues, but I’m sure it won’t be. The American people told them in November they have no clothes. They didn’t get it. Arlen Specter’s given them the same message today. Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell’s response to Specter’s defection? “It’s a threat to the country”. No it’s not, it’s a threat to the Republican party. The two aren’t synonymous, and never were. Rush Limbaugh’s reaction? “Take John McCain and his daughter with you”. Ok, the more the merrier! I’d be glad to have them. I like Meghan McCain. She’s adorable and interesting. She has ideas, she questions and thinks independently of those around her. Sounds like a Democrat in the making to me. The one response that seems to be entirely absent from the right wing today was “We have a problem”. I say keep on keeping on, Republicans! The rest of us will be just fine without you.

_____________________________________________

On a completely separate note, I empathize with all the terrified people in lower Manhattan yesterday who were buzzed by the backup Air Force One in the service of the world’s dumbest photo opportunity. The stunt was inexcusable and insensitive, and had I been there, I’d have gone tachycardic, too. Freaked out New Yorkers who are sent back into grief counseling and suffer relapses of PTSD should have the White House Military Office, who ordered that horribly misguided flight, pay their medical and psychiatric bills. It’s nice to know that even in a new, more enlightened administration, the Department of Defense remains as tone deaf as ever. The outfit that brought you “An Army of One”, “It’s not just a job, it’s an adventure” and “Don’t ask, don’t tell” hit another homer with “Let’s buzz New York City. They won’t mind.” I can’t be the only one who wishes he was there when President Obama called his military officer in and said “Would you like to explain precisely what you were thinking when you decided to terrify millions of New Yorkers just to take a few pictures of the Statue of Liberty? How would you like to be the new military protocol officer in Juneau? That’ll give you a perfect opportunity to ponder all the meanings of the words ‘Boy, did I fuck that up’.”

A pleasant evening at the lyric little bandbox

2009-04-26T15:18:00.011-04:00

Last Thursday, my friend Amy and I attended a special event at Fenway Park that consisted of a VIP tour of all the premium event spaces (suites, Green Monster, right field deck, luxury boxes) and a swanky reception in the EMC Club that featured a Q&A with Red Sox assistant general manager Jed Hoyer.

First, there was the view from the suite on the third base side:

This was higher and a little closer than the view I had when I saw the Red Sox roar back against the Orioles a week ago.

From there, we walked around to the Green Monster Seats.

From there, we descended the stairs, and found ourselves on the center field warning track. By that I actually do mean ON the track.

Oh, I should have mentioned we were offered beer and wine, so I'm holding a glass of red wine there. Amy spotted a sunflower seed on the red clay, and picked it up. When I told her that that little seed could have been in Jacoby Ellsbury's mouth the day before, she vowed never to let it go.

Then, up to the right field roof deck, then around the park to the uberexpensive luxury boxes behind home plate. The following shot is from the "Legends Suite", where you can take in a game with a special guest, who on any given night might be Dwight Evans, Fred Lynn, Jim Rice, Dennis Eckersley, or whomever else happens to be in town that night:

Finally, we walked down the hall to the EMC Club, which boasts its own complete, dedicated kitchen, just for EMC Club guests. The club space is decorated with historic Silver Slugger, Gold Glove, Cy Young and MVP awards given to Red Sox players over the years, along with American League championship trophies and a dozen plasma and LCD TV's. The seats directly outside the EMC Club are pretty good, too.

We also got to spend a few minutes with these cool trophies they had hanging around

Jed Hoyer came by and offered some opinions on kids who will soon be ready to come up to Boston (Daniel Bard, Michael Bowden, Junichi Tazawa, Lars Anderson) as well as other topics (missing Manny, what the trading deadline philosophy will be, etc).

We were there from about 5:30 to about 9pm, and headed home, knowing the next time the sun rose on the lyric little bandbox of a ballpark, as John Updike famously called it, it would be playing host to the latest chapter of the Red Sox - Yankees rivalry. I'm sure I'll be back to Fenway again this year as a paying customer, but Thursday was a definite treat. If you have $5-10k available to spend for a once in a lifetime sporting experience, I highly recommend seeing it in style at baseball's version of the Sistine Chapel. Unless you're a Yankee fan, you won't regret it. Conversely, if you are a Yankee fan, you don't deserve it.

Dead Irish Writers

2009-04-20T19:49:00.004-04:00

Aaron Sorkin’s 7-season masterwork "The West Wing" can still teach us important lessons, even three years after it was retired by NBC. In season 3’s episode Dead Irish Writers, the British Ambassador, Lord John Marbury, pleads with the White House to deny Brendan McGann, the Sinn Fein representative, the right to come to the US and meet with the President. The argument is that Sinn Fein, as a wing of the IRA, is a discredited, outlawed terrorist organization, and shouldn’t be given the platform they seek. Toby Ziegler, President Bartlet’s Director of Communications, reasons that Marbury has it wrong, and that it is America’s responsibility to help the UK with an intractable problem they can’t solve themselves.

TOBY

So wouldn't you say we were doing you a favor?

MARBURY

By intervening?

TOBY

That’s the act of a friend. What is left to do but talk? What could be better
for that wounded place than sitting down and talking? What is better than sitting
down and talking?

MARBURY

Not to talk to Brendan McGann.

TOBY

We can't choose who.

MARBURY

Of course, you can't.

TOBY

Then what can we do but talk to him?

MARBURY

Nothing. You must talk to him.

TOBY

What?

MARBURY

Toby, despite appearances, I do have lucid moments, and I know that England is...
running out of turns in this particular... but as, uh, Ambassador to Her Majesty's
Government, I must tell you that...

TOBY

Brendan McGann cannot come to the White House.

MARBURY

Yes.

TOBY

[beat] Understood, Mr. Ambassador.

That fictional exchange is instructive for everyone watching the news today. I’m not talking about Her Majesty’s government and the Troubles in Ireland. I’m talking about the US and Iran, the US and Venezuela, and the US and North Korea. One of the loudest, and frankly most ignorant knocks against then candidate Obama during the campaign was the insistence that his pledge to negotiate with American enemies was somehow treasonous or wrong or a sign of weakness. That was the catastrophic folly of a failed presidency still being adhered to by a cadre of people who simply don’t have the foggiest idea what they’re talking about.

The only way to keep international relations from devolving into multilateral war and universal mistrust is to talk to one another. In fact, there’s a term for this behavior. We call it “diplomacy”. It’s understandable that Americans are unfamiliar with the concept, since it hasn’t been practiced with any seriousness since the turn of the millennium. The unwillingness to engage in serious diplomacy has succeeded in creating worldwide suspicion and enmity toward the United States.

This stops with the Obama Administraion. We will never have a hope of normalizing relations with anyone if we’re not even willing to talk about our areas of philosophical disagreement. The US and Venezuela have long standing economic and cultural ties, and you know what? Hugo Chavez doesn’t want to be our enemy so much as he simply wants to be heard and treated like a head of state, which he is, like it or not. We don’t get to choose who we talk to. Same with Iran. Ahmedinejad (Maureen Dowd calls him I’m a Dinner Jacket) might be an utterly obnoxious, 3 face cards short of a full deck, dangerous impediment to peace in the Middle East who wants Israel blown off the map (and who’s already hosted a symposium on why the Holocaust wasn’t so bad, I know), but having someone keeping lines of communications open with Iran might well be the only thing standing between us and the next major world crisis. If nobody else will talk to them, then we have to be the grownups and do it. Even if we’ve been behaving like petulant, entitled, spoiled children in the recent past, it’s never too late to do the right thing.

That’s the lesson to be drawn from the West Wing, from the recent Americas summit in Trinidad, and from the new thinking in Washington. Republicans like Newt Gingrich, who should know better, and Senator John Ensign of Nevada, who can’t be assumed to have that much sense, don’t understand the bigger picture. It’s our responsibility to be mature and admit that sometimes, we make mistakes too. 2000 to 2008 was a long, almost unending serious of errors and missteps. Jack Cafferty of CNN is off base in saying we’re rushing things. We’re not moving too fast. Why delay? The sooner we open a dialog, not just with Iran and Venezuela, but also with Cuba and anyone else who will talk to us again since Shrub’s departure, the sooner we can show the world that there’s an intelligent, reasonable statesman in the White House again, and it’s ok to take the United States seriously as a superpower once more.

Playing Whack a Mole

2009-04-04T15:04:00.006-04:00

Iowa’s Supreme Court has ruled that anti-same sex marriage laws are unconstitutional, joining their brethren courts in Massachusetts, Connecticut and California in coming to the same conclusion. California has temporarily returned to the Dark Ages with the passage of Proposition 8 in November, but the importance of Friday’s Iowa ruling remains huge.

Iowa’s a flyover state. It’s not a lily livered bastion of New England liberalism, nor is it a hippie hotbed, freaky deaky, hemp loving homeland like California. Iowa’s an ultra sensible, Big Ten rooting, People magazine reading, John Deere riding, steak and potatoes eating chunk of flat, no nonsense America. Iowa doesn’t have the Hollywood sign, Rodeo Drive, Fairfield County or the People’s Republics of either Berkeley or Cambridge. Iowa’s got grain silos. Iowa’s big employers include Maytag, Con Agra and Cargill.

Friday’s ruling was confirmation of what my friend Stephanie Vardavas posted online yesterday: It’s all about righteousness, and righteousness is like Whack-A-Mole: you can beat it down all you want, but it will always pop up somewhere else, maybe where you weren't expecting it. Maybe even in Iowa. Since the Bay State started doing the right thing in 2004, the world didn’t suddenly stop spinning, nor did the laws of gravity cease being in force just because women were permitted licenses to marry women, or men to marry men. Life went on. Communities weren’t disrupted. The fabric of society didn’t pull apart at the seams.

In fact, I would posit that endorsing gay and lesbian marriage has been an absolute good here in the northeast. Same sex marriage has been legal in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts since 2004. In the past five years, the Red Sox have won not one but two World Series, the Patriots have won two Super Bowls, and the Boston Celtics claimed their 17^th NBA title. Same sex marriage has been legal in Connecticut since this past November. This weekend, both the University of Connecticut’s men’s and women’s basketball teams are in their respective NCAA Final Fours, and the Lady Huskies are unbeaten. As far as I’m concerned, gay marriage is the greatest thing to happen to New England since someone figured out that lobsters are edible. In fact, it’s entirely possible that what happened in Iowa yesterday was nothing more than a naked ploy to give the University of Iowa Hawkeyes their first BCS football championship. If that’s what it takes, then I salute them on their crafty cleverness.

Seriously, this is a simple conversation about human rights. Gay men and lesbian women are seeking their fulfillment of the time honored American promise of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Their opponents are of a recognized type, a group I call The Haters. The people who oppose same sex marriage are the same people who opposed the abolition of slavery, who rallied against allowing women and minorities the right to vote and the integration of public schools, restaurants and public transportation. The Haters have always used the same antiquated, pathetic arguments. Choose whichever one you like:

It violates God’s law. An oldie, but a goodie

It’s not how our society is supposed to work, because, of course, the Haters know from Divine revelation what is proper, and you don’t.

America as we know it will cease to exist. I haven’t figured out why this is a bad thing, but the Haters are convinced that rights are a zero sum game. If you grant something to someone, the Haters have consequently lost that much.

“They”, meaning the bad people who are demanding such outrageous rights, don’t deserve and can’t handle the weighty responsibilities and privileges they seek (this hasn’t worked yet, but gets recycled anyway).

These arguments were just as specious, wrongheaded and ignorant in 1861, 1919, 1954 and 1965 as they are today. In the case of marriage, it seems to me that the thing that endangers marriage the most is divorce. If those pesky gays and lesbians come up with a solution for divorce, it’ll all have been worth it just for that.

Just an aside for the good people in California. Take it from a New Englander who’s seen the truth up close. Massachusetts has celebrated FIVE victory parades since 2004. You know what this means? Let me spell it out for you: until you get Prop 8 repealed, I can guarantee you that the Raiders, Niners, Chargers, Warriors, Clippers, Lakers, A’s, Giants, Dodgers, Angels and Padres aren’t going to win a goddamn thing.

Never forget

2009-03-31T22:02:00.002-04:00

A week ago, I received an email from my mother about a piece that aired on “60 Minutes” in December of 2006. It detailed a landmark event in German history: the opening of Nazi era files stored in the small town of Bad Arolsen. Fifty million pages of documents reside on 16 miles of shelves. For the first time, these records, detailing the fate of countless millions of Holocaust victims, are now open for public viewing. The Holocaust wasn’t the only 20^th century genocide, and as we all know, it wasn’t the last. What it was, though, was the best documented of them all. The Shoah, as it’s known in Hebrew, wasn’t a secret. In fact, the reason we know so much about it today is that Hitler’s regime was fanatical about cataloguing each and every detail, down to precisely how much Zyklon B gas was necessary to suffocate a group of humans in an enclosed space. They were methodical and efficient as well as ruthless. The documentation at Bad Arolsen and elsewhere (including Israel) is how we know today that the numbers aren’t fabricated or imagined. Eleven million souls lost their lives in the Final Solution. Nearly half, or six million, were Jews. The numbers aren’t up for debate, any more than the objective truth that this was the signal embodiment of evil in the midst of the most lethal conflict in world history. Far more Russians died during the war, but Stalin didn’t set out with the declared intent to destroy an entire race. Hitler did.

Nevertheless, more than 60 years later, Holocaust deniers still profess that it was all a big hoax, a myth, or maybe just a gross over exaggeration. Pope Benedict lifted an excommunication order on Cardinal Richard Williamson, even though Williamson insists that nobody was ever gassed by the Nazis, and that the number of victims was only 200,000-300,000, not six million. Actually, there was no Holocaust, according to this Prince of the Church. We Jews made it all up. But wait, there’s more. He’s also on record as saying that Protestants take their orders from the Devil. Did you know that? Yes, it seems Dick Cheney is now busy telling Protestants worldwide what to do. At least he’s keeping busy. The entire thinking world was appalled by the revelations of Williamson’s words, and even much of the church (including the Pope, strangely) has been spending the past month furiously backpedaling. Why Williamson hasn’t been booted from the church is beyond me, but that’s neither here nor there. Iran has hosted a symposium on how the Shoah never happened, or at the very least, was vastly overstated. Dozens and dozens of holocaust denying websites are out there (perhaps many more). It’s a sickening society of flat earthers.

Elie Wiesel said we must never forget, because it can always happen again. On smaller, but still catastrophic scales, it already has. In alphabetical order, the world has seen genocides in Bosnia, Burundi, Cambodia, Darfur, Eritrea, and so on and so on. Quick quiz: How many of the genocides I just named took place before World War II? None. We’ve learned nothing. Allowing people to deny the holocaust is tantamount to shaming the memories of all those who suffered, whether they lived through it or not. There will never come a time when it's ok to not talk about it, to not tell the story, and to not remember.

So how does a society prevent such staggering inhumanity? By not dehumanizing others, and by continually retelling the stories of those that have taken place. Thursday, April 9 marks the beginning of Passover. Tuesday, April 21 is Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day. Those two holidays are inexorably linked. The importance of Passover has very little to do with coming up with creative ways to eat nearly inedible baked goods or horseradish. Passover is all about the re-telling of the saga of Jewish slavery under Egyptian rule, followed by exodus and redemption. The story of Yom Hashoah is surviving a calculated, methodically organized genocide and the subsequent creation of a Jewish homeland that has survived against all odds for the past 61 years. Never forget, and never let anyone deny. That is the lesson of Bad Arolsen, Cardinal Williamson.

Walking in the woods on a sunny spring day

2009-03-15T16:55:00.015-04:00

Last weekend it was sunny and in the 50’s each day. Monday, it snowed. This weekend, it was again gorgeous, even warmer than last weekend. We’re hoping that this time, it really does portend the imminent arrival of a glorious New England spring. Today, I took Cami and Harry for a wonderful walk around the trails of Mount Misery in Lincoln, MA. Mt. Misery is a gorgeous mini-forest of hilly, hemlock conservation land, with views of the Sudbury River and a wide, meandering pond. All the trees are still bare, and it will be far more beautiful once everything is leafed out, but there's still a stark, chilly beauty to the area.

The kids love all the trails we take them to. Although they’ve been to Mt. Misery a dozen times, this was their first time on this particular trail, and they scampered around as if they owned the place. Taking them for walks, even if it’s just around the neighborhood, is a centering experience, and also great fun, since it’s such a joyful treat for them to be out and about.

Here's Cami picking up messages left by other dogs, with the shadow of my phone visible in the lower right.

Here's Harry, looking pensive and serious, but in fact he had just heard something, and was sniffing the air, being his typical alert self.

Back at home, I fired up the Weber grill for the first time this year. Love that charcoal! While I was working on the burgers, the kids relaxed in the yard. Here's Cami, watching over her queendom.

And Harry watching the grill, which had to smell especially enticing, loaded with cooking burgers.

But you have no idea how exhausting it is being adorable.

As we say all the time, they are the bestest babies.

Two for the price of one

2009-03-11T19:15:00.016-04:00

Most loyal blahblahginger readers have met my wife. Some even attended our memorable wedding 7 ½ years ago. Many people, including her coworkers in Concord, shorten her name to P. I generally call her “sweetie”, but refer to her often in print as P or The Amazing P.

What many blahblahginger readers don’t know about is the other side of the woman you all know as P. This isn't going to be a post about Sybil or the Three Faces of Eve. However, I have found I’m not only married to P, but also to (and really adore) Perry Desmond-Davies. Those of you at the wedding in 2001 got a glimpse of Perry. She’s the one who sang Al Green’s classic "Let’s Stay Together". She looks exactly like P, but there are clear differences between the two. P’s a homebody. She’d really prefer to stay home and snuggle with the dogs, feed the birds or putter around her garden. Perry wants to go out, see her friends, and sing her remarkable songs to appreciative audiences. She's cultivated and nurtured her, as she'd be the first to call it, "street cred". There's a whole posse of colleagues and admirers out there in the metrowest acoustic community who listen to, encourage, and on occasion, even sing alongside Perry. I've gotten to know a bunch of them, and their talent is incredible. Ellen and Jake, Kim, Marc, John, Al, Patti, Dan, etc. Check out their sites. They all boast an amazing array of skills (and they're all heartwarmingly wonderful people, too) A small taste of Perry's own eye-popping talent can be found here. While most of the cuts on Perry's website paint a picture of downbeat moods and tough topics, you have to see her in concert, where, if you're lucky, you might be treated to "Damn Happy Song", one of her recently written and currently most-requested tunes, which isn't complete without full audience kazoo participation She’s in the studio this year, working hard on her next album. Meanwhile, P and I are working hard to keep Perry in guitar strings and studio production time. Now, Perry has a few, let's say quirky traits that are endemic to the singing crowd, I believe. I never know if I'll hear her humming her own tunes, since more often around the house she might be doing *her* operatic version of the University of Oklahoma's fight song or ZZ Top's classic "Legs". Hey, at least the dogs and I are never bored!

Earlier this week, I was speaking with Kim, one of Perry's closest musical friends, about the unusual duality of real vs. musical performing life. She confirmed that what I was talking about wasn't my imagination at all, and Kim was amazed that I called her "laid back", which she may be in the musical world, but nowhere else in her life. There's a personal echo for me in this. My personality while conducting training is significantly different in key ways when compared to my everyday behavior in the world. When I have a roomful of clients in front of me, it's the one (and only) place where I'm exceedingly patient, and in fact have little to no ego. While I'm in charge of what's going on in the training room, I don't need to be the one imparting wisdom, and I long ago understood that training's far more powerful when it's synergistic; the users boost and support each other as much as I'm helping and informing them. For Perry, her defining characteristic isn't her laid back nature or ego or lack thereof. She's far more outward facing and less risk averse than P, and that fascinates me. As an open mic host, she's got a welcoming and nurturing vibe that draws both the experienced musicians and novices alike, knowing they'll be in a comfortable performing space.

I'm not just Perry's biggest fan. When I'm home and able to attend her gigs, I also enjoy being a roadie, which means transporting the equipment and distributing kazoos. Hey, it's tough work. Some nights there are two guitars!

We all have creative outlets. I write, she sings. It works out well. I'm looking forward to the CD Release Party!

The importance of the 4th R

2009-02-27T19:12:00.005-05:00

I’m constantly seeing these news stories about studies yielding official, published results such as “scientists say beer gets people drunk” or “Placing your hand on a hot stove leads to significant burns”. The latest “well, duh!” study is summarized in this New York Times article. If you don’t care to read it, it essentially says that it’s good for kids to have time outside during the school day, particularly recess. I obviously missed my calling. I should have listened to whomever it was that urged me to learn how to write grant applications so I could get paid to run studies that come out with “it’s good to run and play” as an end result. I don’t know who it was that told me to write grants, of course, because I was too busy enjoying games at recess.

Honestly, was there ever a better time during the school day than 10:15-10:30am and 2:15-2:30pm? I may have had trouble with math, and initially typing (though I got better with that over time), but I’m telling you, I nailed recess. Ask any of my classmates from grade school. They’ll tell you. I was a recess monster. Kickball, tag, spin the bottle, I could do it all. (Spin the Bottle isn’t being discussed in this post, sorry. Move along, nothing to see here) And I was good. I would trace the beginning of the plateau in my grade school career to the loss of recess. Who the hell determined we were too old for recess, anyway?

So tell me, if recess is so very important in childhood development, why can’t we continue to take advantage of its benefits after we’ve allegedly grown up? What the hell is wrong with a recess break or two during a hard work day? “Sorry, I can’t stay for the rest of this meeting, Tom. I need to go outside and kick a big red ball around the patio a bit. I’ll be back in about 15 or so. In fact, you wanna come along? We could use another. No? You sure? Ok, your loss. Carry on.” Wouldn’t you feel invigorated and more productive, ready to tackle that client project, surgery or complex sales proposal after getting the blood pumping with a quick run around the building’s front lawn? And I don’t mean those wimpy “I’m going to go for a walk down the driveway with little blue weights in my hands”. That’s not being sociable. That’s just running away while looking determined. Recess should be a group activity, dammit. Call it team bonding. C'mon, admit it: most of your company’s meetings are mind numbing wastes of time, aren’t they? Of course they are. A 15 minute game of red light-green light would be far better than a two hour meeting to talk about whether or not you should schedule another 3 hour meeting next week. You know I’m right. Exercise, fresh air, promoting social skills, what’s not to like? All in favor? All opposed? Motion carries. There. All settled.
Later, we’ll discuss the merits of nap time.

A swing and a miss by the rookie

2009-02-26T15:12:00.007-05:00

I thought President Obama’s first speech to a joint session of Congress (technically, it wasn’t considered a State of the Union address) was brilliant. It showed vision, laid the groundwork for the administration’s priorities, and involved bold thinking tempered by the realities of the moment. I was especially heartened by his insistence on a new sense of accountability as well as his call for a renewed commitment to National Service. Calling on citizens to pitch in and give back is a helluva lot more productive than telling people to go on vacation, which was Shrub’s response to 9/11. What surprised me the most, though, was what happened after the speech. I thought the GOP made a brilliant decision to give Louisiana governor Bobby Jindal the spotlight in delivering the response.

If the Republican party is smart, Jindal should be considered the frontrunner for the 2012 nomination. He’s bright, articulate, and shows that there were far better options available to John McCain for his VP pick. Only one unforeseen glitch: in his big chance to introduce himself to millions of Americans on Tuesday, Jindal spit the bit. I had seen him in interviews before. He’s very good, but on Tuesday night he bombed, badly. He looked stilted, nervous, and strangely, like someone who had never seen a teleprompter before. He had an odd rictus grin on his face, as if someone had said to him the instant before he went on air “whatever you do, don’t stop smiling, or a family of ravenous bears will eat you right here as you’re talking”.

Then there was the speech itself. I have absolutely no doubt that within the $800 billion plan signed into law by President Obama, there are countless examples of bad pork and gratuitous spending. It's inevitable. Unfortunately, the examples Jindal picked didn’t qualify. He belittled two spending initiatives, each of which are not just worthy, but vitally important to millions of Americans, though not necessarily as many in Louisiana. Governor Jindal ridiculed $300 million to purchase new government vehicles. Well, governor, that’s important because it’s going to save hundreds of millions, if not billions of dollars in fuel and upkeep costs. Fuel efficiency has never mattered to the Federal government in their auto fleets (just spend some time around Capitol Hill or the Pentagon and you’ll see what I mean), and now it will. Cars that get 15-19 mpg are hideously wasteful, and they’re going to be replaced by fleets of more fuel efficient vehicles, including hybrids, thereby more than doubling gas efficiency in some cases. That’s important, don’t you think?

Where Jindal inexplicably shot himself in the foot was his whining about $140 million for volcano monitoring. While I appreciate that Louisiana doesn’t have volcanoes, surely Bobby Jindal has heard of the states of Alaska and Hawai’i, both of which are home to very active volcanoes. In fact, both have volcanoes that either are already or could literally blow at any time (Mount Redoubt in Alaska and Kilauea and Mauna Loa in Hawaii). If Governor Jindal doesn’t think volcanoes are a big deal, he should talk to people who were present the last time Mt. St. Helens in Washington State, Mt. Pinatubo in the Phillipines, or the Soufriere Hills Volcano in Montserrat erupted. Kilauea is erupting now (albeit quietly), as we speak. When Mauna Loa, also on Hawai’i’s Big Island, blows its top, there’s the significant possibility that millions of Americans, Japanese, Australians and New Zealanders will experience a very, very bad day indeed. So this money isn’t being frittered away. As Marianne Guffanti, a volcano researcher at the U.S. Geological Survey, said, "We don't throw the money down the crater of the volcano and watch it burn up." The money is for new and replacement equipment that has the real chance to save American lives, as well as those in countries around the world. Mt. Redoubt isn’t far from Anchorage, and while I’d love nothing more than to see Sarah Palin covered in 6-12 feet of boiling hot pyroclastic flow, the rest of Anchorage is well worth our efforts on their behalf (maybe not so much Ted Stevens). Mt. St. Helens is still considered quite active, and we all remember what happened the last time it erupted.

The message Jindal kept hammering home was “we can solve our own problems just fine, and we don’t need to spend all this money to have the Federal Government do it”. Well how did that whole solving our own problems deal work out over the past decade, Governor? With Shrub in office and a Republican Congress most of the time, nothing was solved. Tuesday night was a prime opportunity for the GOP to show that it has a clue in how to be the opposition party, and they swung and missed, looking extremely silly in the process.

I would posit that even considering Iraq, the Bush Administration's single most egregious failure was its abysmal, nearly criminal neglect of the Gulf coast since Katrina. Now THERE'S something Bobby Jindal should know about. In his speech, Jindal even made the point that nobody was helping, when a president from his own party was largely at fault. You can't have it both ways, governor. If the government HAD assisted as it should have under President Obama's predecessor, ironically, you wouldn't have had one of the key elements of your speech, which is that you can't rely on the government to help. This was a case when you needed it, and it failed in spectacular fashion. Take your pick, Governor. I'd much rather have had the good people of Louisiana and Mississippi helped sufficiently and have us NOT become the laughing stock of the civilized world. Giving George Bush credit for doing something right would have been a small price to pay, honest.

So now imagine that it's 2017. Governor Jindal is now President Jindal, and ohmygod, we're caught by surprise when, one sunny Hawaiian day, Mauna Loa erupts explosively, spewing lava and poisonous sulfuric gases dozens of miles straight up and sideways, destroying a quarter of the Big Island, and in so doing triggering an enormous tsunami that sweeps across the Pacific Ocean, drowning hundreds of thousands of unsuspecting men, women and children on three continents, with no warning. How did that happen, people ask. Sadly, back in 2009, the relative pittance being requested for funding of updated volcano monitoring equipment was rejected, in part because then-Governor Jindal mocked the spending in his first major nationally televised address. As a result, scientists in Hawai'i and around the world were left flatfooted and had no way of knowing that the eruption was imminent. Not enough monitoring equipment, no warning. Thousands dead and billions in damages, all because a rookie governor's calculation that targeting a much-needed Presidential economic initiative would score points in red states. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it? Tuesday night's statesmanlike performances by President Obama and amateur hour address by Bobby Jindal might signal that the GOP will need to adjust to being irrelevant for the foreseeable future.

Come On, People

2009-02-21T21:46:00.002-05:00

It took just a shade under a month. The New York Post, that bastion of journalistic integrity and editorial evenhandedness, published an obviously inflammatory, subtly racist cartoon relating the bizarre story of the 200 pound chimpanzee who was shot dead after going berserk with President Obama’s recently signed $800 billion stimulus package. In the same week, Attorney General Eric Holder, the nation’s first African American to lead the Justice Department, said in a speech that when it comes to matters of race, Americans have historically been, and continue to be, a “nation of cowards”.

President Obama took the oath of office a month ago, and now it’s time to restart the discussion of race in America. The loud left wing, led by the Reverend Al Sharpton, wants the New York Post to fire the cartoonist. The GOP and the political right have kept their collective mouths firmly shut. They don’t want to get within a zip code of this discussion. It seems nobody’s quite sure what to say about Attorney General Holder’s no holds barred address.

As for me, I couldn’t agree with Mr. Holder more. He’s absolutely, 100% correct. Since our founding, we as a country have had as much stomach for frank discussions of race as we’ve had for the adoption of the metric system, and for largely the same reasons: both problems are considered far too scary, too complicated and would involve a dauntingly improbable cascade of brutally honest discussions about why this wasn’t addressed in an adult fashion generations ago.

Electing an African American to the Oval Office doesn’t negate centuries of poor behavior any more than building a new skyscraper in lower Manhattan negates what took place on September 11. The problems surrounding race relations are a network of one to many relationships, to borrow database-speak. White America can’t even be honest with itself enough to unflinchingly confront the realities surrounding our treatment of other Caucasians, such as the Irish and Jews, much less our historic brutalization of Native Americans, Asians and Hispanic populations. In recent years, Bill Cosby, Alvin Poussaint and other African Americans (including now-President Obama) have stood up and said, to quote Cosby and Poussaint “Come on, people!.” They’ve exhorted the African American community to stop accepting poor behavior, lower graduation and higher crime rates as just the way things are. Cosby essentially said the community needs to grow up and take responsibility for its own behavior, and buy into the American dream as its own, in all its facets.

The Native American community may never be made whole for what was done to them almost starting at the instant that the first white man landed on their shores. Our sins include but are not limited to: taking away their lands, forcing them into ghettos, feeding them alcohol in a misguided attempt to “civilize” them and thoroughly disrespecting their heritage, along with belittling their rituals and even appearance. It should be pointed out that the last few points continue to this day: Anyone want to take a good hard look at the traditional logo of the Cleveland Indians? Before you say I should lighten up because the Indians have been a part of baseball since 1915, just imagine if there was a Major League team called the New York Jews, with a logo of a guy with a big, sharp nose, a prayer shawl and payas. I don’t even want to contemplate the African American or Asian analog of this. Gaudy, fabulously wealthy casinos don’t balance the scales. We still have a lot to answer for.

The discussions we need haven’t started yet. I’m not sure when they ever will. As for the New York Post cartoon, I don’t want the cartoonist fired. Let him keep writing. The best way to confront hateful speech is to show it for what it is. Don’t hide it. To shut him down would violate the critical point behind the First Amendment. A cartoon that’s in objectively poor taste can’t be, and shouldn’t be shut down, any more than KKK parades or horrid, anti-semitic screeds by paranoid morons who believe that Jews control world banking and secretly pull the strings behind all important government decisions (seriously, if that were the case, don’t you think we could have found someone better than Joe Lieberman?). Crackpots and the vast population of the ignorant (also known as Rush Limbaugh fans) will believe what they will. You can’t have a battle of wits with an unarmed man, so don’t bother.

So what’s my point? I’ll quote Dr. William Cosby: Come on, people. At long last, let’s be honest, and call bigotry and narrow-minded, human rights-denying behavior what it is. When some nitwit is questioning whether Barack Obama “is really an American citizen”, that’s bigotry. There’s no other word for it. When couples are denied the right to marry because “the bible says they shouldn’t”, that’s bigotry, disguised in the garb of a moral argument.

We’ll never undo what happened in our tangled, aggrieved past. We’ll never be able to apologize enough for slavery, for our destruction of Native American culture or our silence and inaction on the Holocaust or what was done to Japanese Americans in World War II. But from here on in, we should finally, at long last, be a country of grownups, not cowards. Come on, people.

Lincoln's 200th Birthday

2009-02-12T21:15:00.003-05:00

Today is the 200th anniversary of Abraham Lincoln’s birth. Of all the historical, political, military and human rights figures I’ve studied throughout history, Lincoln is my foremost role model, and my idea of the greatest American. More books have been written about Lincoln than anyone in recorded history, other than Jesus. Lincoln was born (literally) dirt poor, and had almost no formal education, yet he rose by his own skills and gifts to become a successful attorney and the savior of the Union. He was our country’s greatest orator, yet at the time his most memorable speeches weren’t widely appreciated. Lincoln freed the slaves and was to be known as “The Great Emancipator”, yet his primary goal at the outset of the war had nothing to do with slavery. The only thing that mattered to him initially was preservation of an increasingly shredded Union. He suffered much of his life from debilitating depression, and endured a turbulent marriage to a seriously mentally ill woman. Today, Mary Todd Lincoln would be treated for bipolar disorder. Together they grieved the loss of two of their children, one of whom died in the White House during the Civil War. Lincoln was the war’s most towering hero, yet became its last martyr, never living to see a healed Union.

Two hundred years after his birth, and 144 years after his death, the healing, inspiring words President Lincoln delivered in a remote corner of Pennsylvania on a chilly November afternoon crystallized the meaning behind the unquantifiable tragedy and horrors his countrymen were enduring. Moreover, he explained in just 267 words why men were slaughtering each other on their own soil, and why the entire catastrophe mattered. Today, his words still carry a power equaled neither before nor since.

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground.

The brave men, living and dead who struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us--that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion--that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation under God shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.

The New Obama Court

2009-02-08T11:54:00.006-05:00

US Supreme Court Associate Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. In spite of the tremendous gains in cancer research and treatment in the past few decades, pancreatic cancer remains one of the remaining “uh oh, you’re in extremely deep trouble now” diagnoses. The five year survival rate is less than five percent. Justice Ginsburg will need to step down from the court, and probably sooner than later.

Coming into office, President Obama expected that he would likely be nominating two new Justices, to replace John Paul Stevens (who, nominated by President Ford, is the longest serving justice and the oldest at 88 years old) and David Souter, who has made no secret of his dislike of all things Washington and desire to return home to New Hampshire. Souter may well retire before Stevens, but now Justice Ginsburg is headed to the front of the line.

So who’s next? No matter who’s nominated, the ideological balance of the court isn’t going to change right away: the three probable outgoing Justices all tilt to varying degrees to the left. In terms of new nominees, the smart money in Washington is being wagered on two eminently qualified women currently on the Federal Appeals level: Sonia Sotomayor, who serves on the Federal Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit, and Diane Wood, who serves on the Seventh Circuit. Judge Sotomayor is Hispanic, which would be a plus, and Judge Wood was a professor at the University of Chicago Law School alongside President Obama. Familiarity helps.

While both women are presumptive choices, there are other, less obvious picks to consider. I’d toss two names into the ring of possibility: Governor Deval Patrick of Massachusetts and Delegate Eleanor Holmes Norton of the District of Columbia. While we haven’t seen nominees for the Court lacking judicial experience in the recent past, there’s a long history of such people having distinguished, and indeed pivotal roles on the Court. Since 1900, none of the following Justices had ever served as a judge before their nominations: William Rehnquist, Byron White, Earl Warren, Robert Jackson, William Douglas, Felix Frankfurter and Louis Brandeis. So, both Patrick and Norton would be in august company. Both are African American, but that’s hardly the most important element for each one’s potential candidacy. Governor Patrick, like President Obama, is a Chicago native and also a graduate of Harvard Law School. He served as the Assistant Attorney General for Civil Rights in the Janet Reno-led Justice Department in the Clinton Administration. It’s not entirely outrageous to hope that Justice Patrick could become a latter day Thurgood Marshall.

Way back in the early days of the Clinton Administration, scuttlebutt around Washington whispered the name of Eleanor Holmes Norton as a possible Supreme Court pick. Delegate Norton (the District of Columbia doesn’t have an actual Congressperson, because it’s not a state) has been representing the Disrict of Columbia in Congress since 1990. She’s a Yale College and Law School grad. In 1964, she travelled to Mississippi as part of Freedom Summer, and worked alongside some of the great civil rights pioneers: Medgar Evers, John Lewis, James Forman and of course Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. In the 1970's, Ms. Norton served in the Carter Administration as the first female head of the US Equal Employment Opportunity Commission.

My point is that with the very real likelihood of nominating replacements to a third of the Supreme Court in his first term, President Obama can remold the Court's liberal base for the next generation. Although unlikely, if the gods smile on him and either swing vote Anthony Kennedy or Scalia lapdog Clarence Thomas steps down, we would see a vastly reshaped court. I suppose it's too much to hope that Antonin Scalia is going anywhere. Besides, conservatives need to have their own firm champion on the Court, so assume Scalia stays. That said, winning an election carries consequences. I've always felt that one of the most important of these is a president's ability to shape the judiciary. It's a tantalizing and satisfying wish of mine that Barack Obama, the first African American editor of the Harvard Law Review and a distinguished Constitutional Law Professor at the University of Chicago, will have a substantive and long-term impact on the Supreme Court, and in so doing make a real difference in the lives of Americans for decades to come, even after his term in office has long expired.

Walking down Pennsylvania Avenue

2009-02-03T21:51:00.005-05:00

Washington DC to me is as familiar as the town where I grew up. Coming back feels like slipping into an old pair of comfortable jeans. When you’re in the District, it’s impossible not to notice the Washington Monument, since it’s the tallest structure in town. I revisit the Lincoln Memorial every chance I get, and I like to glance at the Capitol from the other end of the Mall. Nevertheless, as many times as I’ve been in DC since I last lived here, I’ve completely avoided the 1500-1700 blocks of Pennsylvania Avenue. Tonight, though, I walked by the White House.

Oh, it’s the same building it was in the early 1990’s when I worked a few blocks away, but when Shrub lived there, the place felt oily. I couldn’t look at the White House without feelings ranging from sadness to shame to outright fury. Tonight, it looked different. Tonight, it’s a proud address. It holds an occupant worthy of its history and all it stands for.

The Eisenhower Building next door (I knew it as the OEOB), the real headquarters of the executive branch of government, still looks like a hideously over-decorated birthday cake, looming beside the much smaller executive mansion. In its own way, it’s a grand, decidedly out of place palace. I think it would fit perfectly in Paris. In Washington, it looks odd.

What’s most reassuring is that with history made, the life of government goes on. A new cabinet is nominated. Most are confirmed, some aren’t. Twas always thus. Every administration has had its failed nominations, because there’s never time to sufficiently vet the complete background of every single nominee. Losing Tom Daschle for HHS sucks, but Kimba Wood, John Tower, Linda Chavez and plenty more before Senator Daschle either failed confirmation or were withdrawn for all kinds of reasons, good, bad and ugly. Things have a way of working out. With the Obama cabinet, it really is historic. We’ll be up to at least three Republicans serving the new president. Instead of a token member of the other party (Bill Cohen as Clinton’s Sec’y of Defense and Norman Mineta as Bush’s Sec’y of Transportation), President Obama has gone the distance. To find the right GOP members he’s needed, he’s reached out not to the military (Robert Gates for Sec’y of Defense), the House of Representatives to name Ray LaHood (R-ILL) to lead the Department of Transportation and now the Senate to name Judd Gregg (R-NH) at Commerce.

Ray LaHood was one of the leaders of the Republican team during Bill Clinton’s impeachment, and even though New Hampshire governor John Lynch is a Democrat, he’s going to nominate a Republican to replace Judd Gregg in the Senate. The reason may sound strange, because it’s so damn civilized and reasonable: The GOP’s numbers in the Senate shouldn’t suffer just because Gregg has been asked to serve his president. Something really, really strange is happening in Washington: the President is far more interested in getting problems solved and appointing the best possible people to serve in his cabinet than he is in waving the Democrat party flag and rubbing the GOP’s nose in the obvious fact that they got completely destroyed in November’s election.

Ideology is irrelevant now. For this new administration, scoring political points is considered juvenile. “We don’t have the time or patience for this crap, folks. We need to behave like grownup Americans, not score-keeping partisans”, President Obama is saying. “Play your reindeer games some other time. If I think Judd Gregg will do the best job as Commerce Secretary, I have no problem throwing Senate Republicans a bone and giving them a GOP replacement for him. Fair’s fair.”

Fair’s fair. What a concept. Yes, the mansion at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue is worth saluting these days.

Back on the east coast

2009-01-30T19:40:00.005-05:00

Twenty six hours, five time zones, four flights, a completely changed itinerary, about 50 degrees in temperature later, dad and I made it from the Big Island to the Big Chill. I've posted the last batch of pictures on flickr.com, including dolphins and flowers and stairs, oh my!
Here's a small taste of what's in the latest upload:

Go to my photostream on flickr to see the rest. I'm dsg29. Or just use the link above.

A few summary thoughts:

This was the most improbable, and certainly one of the best vacations I've ever taken. Dad and I got along incredibly well, which wasn't something I had ever questioned, but still was great. Never a cross word (or even a thought). Dad's always the one who wants to drive, literally and figuratively. For 10 days, though, he was a very contented passenger and tourist. I made the reservations, and he relished not being in charge of anything. Meanwhile, I thoroughly enjoyed the "just us" time, and seeing extraordinary sights with him, or just relaxing, reading novels on the hotel balcony.
We both got rather spoiled: Kona coffee, the world's best pineapple, mango, and of course, an unrivaled climate. Dunkin' Donuts coffee is going to be rendered tasteless in comparison, and I won't get into how freakin' cold it feels at home now.
We both saw that Hawai'i tourism is being hit by the bad economy: I saw vastly fewer guests at the hotel in Waikiki than I had expected. Of the three sights we saw on the Big Island that required reservations with a tour company, one (a flight over the Kohala Coast waterfalls) was cancelled due to insufficient attendance. The helicopter held four passengers, and they couldn't afford to fly with just the two of us. On another flight, the one over Kilauea volcano, dad and I were not only the only passengers, but ours was the only flight all day. The newspapers in Hawaii have been talking for sometime about the lower tourism numbers as compared to the past number of years. From first hand experience, we can attest that to say business is down is an understatement. I hope things pick up for everyone in the Aloha State. We did our part!
In spite of the wonderful time, I'm so happy to be home. I missed P, I missed Cami and Harry and I missed my bed. I did NOT miss the freakin' cold, snow and ice.

As hard as it is to believe, I get back on a plane on Tuesday, to our newly-changed nation's capital. The merry-go-round begins anew.

Aloha.

We'll be comin' 'round the mountain

2009-01-28T02:57:00.012-05:00

What follows is a précis of what dad and I did for most of yesterday: at about 3pm, we were in a little, upscale, outdoor strip mall, when we were picked up by a group in a van that holds about a dozen passengers. The van then traveled up a series of narrow, rutted, only semi-paved roads, some lined with potholes, to a small cabin at about 9,200 feet above the Hilton Waikoloa where we’ve been since Friday. At this cabin, we had exactly enough time to use the restrooms and eat a mediocre (though warm) box lunch for dinner, and chug down a bottle of water. From there, we took a series of even worse roads up to 13,600 feet, where it was bitter cold, with windchills around 0 degrees, (possibly colder, I didn’t ask), and, by the way, where the air held 40% less oxygen than we were used to. We froze our butts off up there for about a half hour, then took the same nasty roads back to the cabin, where we (thankfully) got to use the restrooms again before we were herded into the vans again, to drive a couple hundred feet to a spot where we could stand in the freezing cold for another hour and a half doing very little more than looking at stars. That was followed by the return trip down more of the same substandard roads to our hotel. Now the important part: it is almost certainly going to be one of the major highlights of the trip for both of us.

The whole tour was run by Mauna Kea Summit Adventures. The 13,600 foot level was just a little past a collection of the greatest deep space observatories built and paid for by countries ranging from the US to Canada, the UK, Japan and France, and staffed by the foremost astronomers from around the world. The famous pair of Keck Obervatories are on Mauna Kea, along with Japan’s new Subaru and the CFH (Canada-France-University of Hawai’i) Observatories.

That's Subaru on the left, the Keck twins in the middle, and the Gemini Observatory on the right.

From close to the summit, we saw a sunset I’ll never, ever forget.

From that altitude, well above the clouds, the sky is crystal clear. So clear, in fact, that looking to the northwest we could see the top of the island of Maui, some 88 miles away from us.

See the two poles in the ground? Look at the one on the left. At its point, just to the right of that: that's the island of Maui. Even more amazing was that to the east, as the sun was setting to the west, I could take a picture of Mauna Kea’s own shadow reflected on nearby mountains.

Our time at the Summit was magical, almost mystical. We were literally in rare air, standing in, what Hawaiians say is the home of the gods. It was humbling and awe-inspiring. Endlessly educational, as well. We learned that Mauna Kea is still very much an active volcano, and although it isn't currently erupting, it still could (and very likely will) very soon, geologically-speaking. However, it should be noted that Kilauea is erupting now, and Mauna Loa could be more active even sooner than Mauna Kea. It's a very, very active island indeed.

Also, in the past year scientists have started to detect an unusually loud static-like signal coming from a distant galaxy that they've never heard before. They have no idea what it is, but it's unusual, and everyone's paying attention to it now. My hunch is Michael Jackson's home planet is calling him home. Did I mention we were cold? There's snow on Mauna Kea, and for damn good reason: for the first time in a week, dad and I were as cold as all of you on the east coast have been, perhaps colder. The air temperatures were well below zero, and the wind was fierce. We appreciated the heavy winter parkas and gloves that each of us wore, courtesy of our guide Richard. Those came in handy. I had a polartec fleece jacket with me that added another layer, so I was comfy. Dad was just plain cold.

At the summit, dad and I witnessed the observatories opening their big windows for the evening’s studies of the galaxies.

We couldn’t stay at the summit, for a bunch of reasons, not the least of which was that we weren’t allowed past sunset: the scientists own the summit all night. They pay thousands of dollars and reserve their precious time at the telescopes months or years in advance. Also, we had a date with the tour company’s own fancy 11”, computer guided telescopes back at the 9,200 foot level.

At high altitude, you’re told to drink lots of water to replenish your blood’s oxygen supply. Excellent advice, except that also means that the more water you drink, the more you’ll need a bathroom, and soon. The restroom break at the Ellison Onizuka Center at 9,200 feet was most welcomed. For space buffs, the name should be familiar. Ellison Onizuka was NASA’s first Hawaiian born astronaut. He went into space on Discovery in 1985 and was killed in the Challenger accident in 1986. I thought it fitting that Hawai’i’s gateway station to the stars, and by extension, the galaxies, was named for a son of Hawai’i and a true hero.

After relieving our bladders, we were treated to an expert tour through the heavens, under crystal clear (though still cold) conditions. Constellations that are blurry or barely visible near sea level in the urban, light-polluted northeast jump out at you under an astonishing blanket of stars on perfect, dark-sky Mauna Kea. I can recognize Orion's Belt, but I've never seen the stars that comprise his dagger and shield with the naked eye. Through the telescope, we saw clusters, star "nurseries" and other details that awed us. A nice cup of hot cocoa and a macadamia cookie later, and we were back on the van, headed down the bumpy mountain roads, returned to sea level at Waikoloa.

If you are ever on the Big Island, by all means see the waterfalls, volcano eruptions, world class golf courses and black sand beaches, but do not do not do NOT miss the opportunity to see the sun, mountains and heavens from the top of one the greatest peaks in the world. Coming to the Big Island was worth it for me when I saw molten lava by plane. Last night, though, might have been the highlight of the trip for both dad and myself. When you do see Mauna Kea, you have to call the folks we went with. http://www.maunakea.com/ You won't be disappointed, I promise. They were outstanding, from when I made the reservation to when the van dropped us off at the end of the night.

We head home tomorrow, back to the cold and, I hear, lots of snow. No matter. Dad and I have tremendous memories of a great vacation, one that was worth the time away from home, expense and painfully long flights both ways. Just like the fall of 2006 when I was here with P, the only words that express my emotions at this incredible trip are mahalo nui loa
Thank you.

At a loss for words above the mouth of the beast

2009-01-25T03:37:00.003-05:00

I've spent the better part of 44 years practicing the use of the right words. I know lots of words. Vocabulary is good. There are times, however, when anyone's vaunted literary skills are put to arduous tests, such as describing the cataclysmic destruction of Indonesia, New Orleans or the American financial and automobile industries. The first time I saw the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, or the moment I tried to thank my wife for planning and executing a surprise trip to Paris.

Now today, I'm supposed to describe the feeling of seeing a live volcano for the first time. I'm not sure I can do it. I'll be brutally honest here: witnessing Kilauea's lava flow with my own eyes was my single most selfish reason for booking this trip in the first place. Taking dad along just gave me the excuse I needed to induce "awww"'s from others and in so doing justify the ridiculous expense of the whole thing. I can start by thanking my sister in law Suzanne and brother Steve for treating dad to today's plane ride over the south side of the Big Island. Also, Island Hoppers Tours as well as our pilot JR for taking us.

Anything you want to know about Kilauea Volcano you can find here, courtesy of the US Geological Survey. Pretty pictures and interesting stories are nice, but you need to see something with your own eyes to get how incredible it is. I felt that way about the Eiffel Tower, and certainly about Kilauea. It's Mother Nature at her rawest and most naked. The massive plumes of smoke that are constantly billowing from the main vent (called the Pu'u O'o vent -- four syllables, pronounced Pooh-oo, Oh-oh, with the dashes functioning like the stop between the syllables of uh oh) look pretty, but they're extremely lethal sulfuric clouds given off by the molten rock as it hits the air. The orange lava we spotted in multiple spots is literally molten rock. It's glowing at over 2,200 degrees fahrenheit, and it melts everything it would ever encounter in its path, including villages, trees, cars and houses, which it has done repeatedly in its history while man has lived on the Big Island. The lava has wiped the land black in multiple places on the southern half of the island. Not just Kilauea, but also Mauna Loa as well, which stopped erupting in the late 1800's, but is going to be restarting sometime in the very near future, geologically speaking. In fact, there's a nasty, jagged, visible fault line in the land between Mauna Loa's territory and Kilauea. It's about as dramatically easy to spot as the San Andreas fault in California, and it's responsible, along with the volcanoes themselves, of all the constant earthquakes this island gets.

It's dramatic. It's raw. It's happening right there, less than 15oo feet below our tiny little 4-passenger Cessna, and it's a combination of molten, boiling lava and poisonous gas and smoke. Basically, it's freakin' cool.

I took dozens of pictures today: dolphins and other fun stuff from the hotel as well as lots of pictures from our flight. It's going to take time to go through them all, but the first handful is visible here on flickr. I'll post more when I have a chance, most likely after we get back.

Coming events before we leave Wednesday will include a helicopter trip over the Big Island's famous waterfalls and a tour to the peak of Mauna Kea (Observatories 'R' Us). It's late now, a little after 4 in the morning, east coast time, so I'll sign off.

Aloha

A Whole Different Place

2009-01-24T02:57:00.004-05:00

Friday afternoon, dad and I took the short 35 minute flight from Oahu to the Big Island. We landed at the Kona airport, on the west coast of the island. Right away you see that this isn’t Oahu in any way, shape or form. To begin with, the Kona airport isn’t much more than a small strip with a tiny, almost totally open air “terminal”. Secondly, the soil all around us is black. I don’t mean dark brown or red, like the oxidized dirt of the Dole plantation on Oahu. I mean black. This really is volcano country, and it’s unmistakably different than anything else I’ve ever seen. Leaving the airport and heading north on Queen Ka’ahunamanu Highway, also known as Rt. 19, I was dumbfounded with the vista on all sides. It’s a mass of uneven, sometimes rolling, sometimes craggy jet black rock and dirt. The terrain hits your eye at crazy angles. The ground slopes away, down, sideways and upwards in ways that can make it very difficult to judge distances, or even discern if I was looking at earth or sky. Sometimes the hills will appear to disappear into the clouds, and so I felt like I was in some sort of very strange, giant, naturally lit funhouse. I couldn’t call it a moonscape, because it’s not all black. There’s vegetation, ranging from dusty beige to a brilliant, verdant carpet of green as we moved north toward the hotel in Waikoloa.

Turning off Rt. 19, we entered a whole different realm: large resort after larger resort, finally culminating in the Hilton Waikoloa, which can only be described as immense. It’s Disneyesque in size and breadth, and only a hair less touristy. On its website, it dubs itself "a once in a lifetime island getaway". That's actually an understatement. I'll get to that in a second. My Hilton Honors points merited us a room upgrade, free breakfast each day and two bottles of water. They inexplicably made a big deal out of the last part, as if I was supposed to jump up and down and clap my hands gleefully. "Whee! Free water!"

My mom would detest the place on sight, not because of the free water, but because of the resort's size, and also because of the complex’s over the top commercial nature. It caters to groups and families as well as weddings and getaways. In all fairness, nothing in Hawaii is specifically designed for a middle aged guy and his dad, so you take what you can get. The Hilton Waikoloa, needless to say, is very, very different from the Outrigger Hotel where we stayed in Oahu (which I highly recommend, by the way. I'd go back there anyime I visit Waikiki). I’m not sure if my dad likes our new digs on the Big Island or not, but I’m getting a kick out of its completely unselfconscious, brazenly craven attempt to be everything to everyone. There’s a giant lagoon, replete with enormous swimming turtles and dolphins. There are at least three or four different large to enormous guest complexes, each with their own restaurants, shops and attractions. To get to each of them, you have a choice of a modern tram, not unlike Disney World’s monorail, or a Venetian-style, rather elegant motor launch that takes a circuitous route around the lagoons from one building to the next. This resort sprawls over 60 acres, and it's no moonscape. It's lush. It's manicured. There's foliage everywhere, including flowers I can't name. There are a couple golf courses, amphitheaters, a bunch of tennis courts, and I’m not sure what else because we only checked in around 5pm, and there wasn’t time to see even a fraction of the whole place. I do know there’s a very large (I can’t tell how large) serpentine swimming pool that has waterfalls, adjacent saunas, and for all I know, Gila Monsters to entertain the kids. We’ll investigate this tomorrow and report back. It’s all too much of a muchness, as a dear, late family member was fond of saying. We were only here for about an hour of sunlight before witnessing another gorgeous Hawaiian sunset. I didn’t even have time for pictures today, sorry. I promise more are coming in the days to come. Perhaps I can capture some sense of what I've described in pictures. I sure as hell hope so, or else you'll think I'm just making this shit up.

Tomorrow’s main event is chapter 1 of the Stuff That David Has Been Dying To See, namely a two hour flight in a small Cessna (cue mom and P saying in unison “we did NOT need to know that part”) to the southeast corner of the island, over and past Kilauea, to see the lava flow into the sea. Dad’s only doing this because I’ve already paid for the tour. The day after, we’re driving to Volcanoes National Park to see Kilauea up close and personal. I’m so excited I can’t tell you, but I’ll do my best to find the words when it’s time.

Aloha

Sunsets over the Pacific

2009-01-23T02:59:00.006-05:00

When you live on the east coast, it's hard to really appreciate how staggeringly beautiful a sunset can be until you either visit the west coast or, even better, the Hawaiian islands. Each night I've been here I've made every effort to be on the beach, drinking in the sublime beauty of the sun setting over the Pacific.

The days are great, of course. Today, we drove up and around the north shore of Oahu, which included a visit to the Dole pineapple plantation, Sunset Beach, wonderful shrimp from one of Kahuku's legendary "shrimp trucks", and the staggering beauty of Oahu's rugged mountain ranges.

Those pictures and more are visible here on flickr. We also had another terrific dinner, but it's still the sunsets I love the most. Tomorrow, we say goodbye to Oahu and take a short flight to the Big Island. This is the part of the vacation I've been looking forward to the most. Volcanos (Kilauea and Mauna Kea), here we come!

Aloha.

Back to Pearl

2009-01-21T22:05:00.003-05:00

This was not a trip that I ever anticipated doing twice. Once you've seen Pearl Harbor, you can't forget it, and I wouldn't have returned if I had not wanted to accompany dad's only pilgrimage to see the USS Arizona Memorial in Pearl Harbor.

The 20 minute movie in the visitor center, prior to the trip to the Memorial, shook him up more than I (and I'm sure he) realized it might. The short trip on the Navy launch over to the Memorial is one I remembered, as I wasn't sure the first time I was there how I'd feel. However, once I stepped onto the dock today in front of the white, sculpted deck, the awe and reverence hit full blast again. It's an eternally powerful experience, and seeing it for the second time didn't dampen the feeling. Dad was duly moved, as I knew he would be. Unlike me, he was alive on December 7, 1941, and he experienced the shock and grief of the tragedy, as well as its immediate aftermath, plunging the nation into a long, tough war. I took more pictures today, and they're visible here. We also saw the Battleship Missouri, which is still an impressive sight.

Oahu is always the classic cosmopolitan playground, but it's so important to appreciate it from all its angles. There's the legendary strip of Waikiki, the majesty of Diamond Head (I am NOT climbing it again!), and also the important history embodied in Pearl Harbor. This piece of the island is as much a part of its heritage as King Kamehameha and the Dole pineapple plantation, which we'll see tomorrow. By the way, the Dole plantation is located on King Kamehameha Highway, which nearly parallels the island's northern coast. That's a drive I could nearly every day and not get tired of it. I've been told, and I believe, that that's where you see the true Oahu, without the noise and congestion of Honolulu and Waikiki.

In the morning, I'm having breakfast with a client. Really. It's not a work visit. They're the folks I came out to work with in 2006, and I wanted to see them. After that, the North Shore, the Banzai Pipeline, pineapple and macadamia heaven awaits.