Fish and Visitors

I had a headmaster back in the Jurassic period who used to send the girls off on holiday breaks with the admonition that "fish and visitors smell after three days." I later learned that this was one of Ben Franklin's aphorisms, but at the time, it seemed pretty original to my 16 year old mind. And it's probably telling that I remember very little else about the headmaster--I'm sure he offered other lessons besides that one, but they didn't stick.

Our house is full of young men. They come and go, leaving in their wake a drift of debris--books, socks, empty soda cans. Apart from that exasperating trait, it's wonderful to have them. And in a few days, our lives will be quiet and dull once more. And while they have been here for more than three days, they don't smell yet. They may be slobs, but they take showers.

Christmas letter

I enjoy getting Christmas letters from friends and family. It's fun to hear from people you don't see very frequently, and be reminded about why you like them. However, many of the letters I receive are filled with lengthy descriptions about children's sporting, academic, and artistic accomplishments. All interesting, but maybe too much information for my already overwhelmed little brain.

The gold standard in Christmas letters was established by my dad's stepfather, Ray W. Tobey. A schoolmaster from darkest Maine, Ray was a curmudgeonly Yankee who somehow got himself appointed to teach the offspring of the famous and monied in Connecticut. His Christmas letters were models of economy, elegance, and, if you had a really strong microscope, humor. Usually no more than one or two short paragraphs, the letters mentioned in passing his limited travels, visits from his wife's children and granchildren, and the natural world around his 19th century farmhouse. The letters were printed, without typos, on glossy paper from a local job printer, and always included a small black and white photo of the farm, the huge pine tree, or some other local landmark. That was it.

Ray is long gone, as is the pine tree. But I unconsciously compare every Christmas letter I receive to those he sent. And is that a bad legacy? As we say in Minnesota, it could be worse...

Snow!

Luis is in hog heaven. It snowed about an inch this afternoon, and he had his first snowball fight in the parking lot at a shopping mall. He thinks it is beautiful, and so it is.

Braces, just in time for the holiday season

Poor Joe High School. Today he got braces on his teeth for the second time. They are blue metal, and really hurt. The first effort was when he was much younger, the idea being that if you did it early you could avoid the full metal jacket later on. It was not to be. Poor Joe has a cross bite, ihnerited from yours truly.

Back in the day, something like a cross bite was not usually corrected unless it looked terrible. So my teeth are as nature made them.

And, there's been a cultural shift. Nowadays, nice middle class families don't just strive to give the kids a good education and some foundational backbone with which to face life. A well equipped child not only needs a college degree, but straight teeth, clear skin, waxed eyebrows, and a manicure. I suspect that the orthodontists' lobby spends hours or days at its annual conference figuring out which guilt buttons it can press.

And it works. At the ortho's office, children of immigrants whose mothers are dressed in the hijab are waiting to have their jaws expanded. Talk about acculturation....

Holiday prep, or how to avoid reality

It's discouraging. There is no snow, Joe College Grad won't be home until December 24 ("those tickets are so expensive, Mom"), and the Current Occupant seems to have no idea of the hole he has dug for us and for the world.

The CO even had a way out--the Iraq Study Group--but chose to dismiss their recommendations out of hand. I feel as if we are in an episode of the Twilight Zone or a Greek tragedy. I'm waiting for the big recognition scene, when Hamlet or Lear or George realizes what he's done and throws himself to the wolves waiting in the snow outside the White House.

But I forgot. There is no snow because of global warming. And that is just one more thing that GWB chooses to ignore. When the curtain finally comes down on this amazing period of history, the Current Occupant will still have no idea how he has disappointed his audience. He had the biggest stage in the world, and he used it to show cartoons.

Snow Expectations

There is no snow in Minnesota. And that's not because it's too cold to snow. It's because of global warming. Every winter has started later, been warmer, and ended sooner than the last. The years of -30 -degrees and three feet of snow until May have vanished. Instead of the average 7 inches of snow in November, we had none. Zilch. Nada.

Our Mexican student, Luis, is very disappointed. He has been waiting for it to snow since the beginning of November. I keep telling him, "Any day now." And the days roll by, with no snow, and 45 -degree temps. Even that is cold for Luis. But, it would be nice if he had some snow to compensate for the temperature.

No-show senators, Sumner, Kennedy, and Johnson

Appparently nine senators have been no-shows at the Capitol since the 1940's because of ill-health or discouragement. I would love to be in the Senate historian David Ritchie's office right now, digging up the dirt on those nine guys who didn't show up to work in the period since WWII.

The first thing the researchers had to do, of course, is determine how far back to go. They clearly didn't go back as far as 1856, when Senator Charles Sumner of Massachusetts (yes, folks, of Sumner Tunnel fame) was beaten to unconsciousness by a member of the House from South Carolina who sought revenge for Sumner's allegedly insulting remarks about his uncle (or cousin in some accounts) Senator Andrew Butler. Sumner did not return to the Senate until 1859, when he again took the abolitionist cause. Some years later, another Massachusetts senator, John F. Kennedy, took a lengthy leave of absence from the Senate to recuperate from his ongoing back problems.

So, Senator Johnson is in good company. I don't think the Senate Republicans should revisit those Committee assignments any time soon.

Minneapolis Public Library leadership problems

There is a lot of breast-beating going on about the financial straits of the Minneapolis Public Library. The library has been playing chicken with the citizens of Minneapolis, planning to close three marginal branches in order to keep the rest of the system functioning. This strategy has worked pretty well; the library now has the attention of the community, the mayor, and of city hall. There will be a bail-out vote on Monday.

The blame for the financial situation that caused this sorry state of affairs has been assigned to the city council, the Republican governor and his cuts in local government aid, and the mayor, who believes, without much basis, that Minneapolis has too many libraries. There are some who blame the Library Board for being ineffective. There is plenty of blame to go around, and there is justification for all the assignments.

However, no one has talked about the responsibility of the library staff over the years for the current problems of the library. Before I say more, here's a bit of truth in advertising: I used to be one of those staff members before being "laid off" in January of 2005. And when I say staff, I am talking about the leadership of the library. The rank and file staff are, by and large, devoted to the library and hard working.

The selection of administrators and directors for the library has been characterized by mishandled searches, unclear goals, and hidden agendas among library Board members that obscure the need for strong leadership. As a result, there has been no director in many years who has been a strong advocate for public libraries. Recent directors, including the current one, have been bureaucrats, exemplars of the Peter Principle, and ambitious folks who used MPL as a stepping stone for bigger, better, things. None of them has been able to articulate effectively why we need public libraries and why we as a community should support them. Instead, the library has relied for support on lots of heart-warming stories that are doubtless true, but are really only anecdotal, rather than systemic, descriptions of the role libraries should play in a civil society.

Without leadership that is able to get the message out in a compelling way, any effort put into keeping Southeast, Roosevelt, and Webber Park branches open is only a stop gap measure. Such efforts do not address the leadership problem at the Minneapolis Public Library. This problem is one of the root causes of its financial difficulties. But it's also the elephant in the living room.

Flyover land

When I use the term "flyover land" it carries with it primarily geographic connotations. Flyover land is the Midwest, however you care to define it. Flyover land has red states and blue states, more or less equally. It is also associated in the popular mind (read the coastal mind) with many things that are not true, such as excessive religiosity, conservative politics, devotion to the military, etc., etc. You do find these things in flyover land, as in anywhere else. But they are here because of small towns and rural settings, not because they are in the midwest. All of these characteristics are more pronounced the further south you go, because the further south you go there are fewer big cities. Big cities are the antidote to conservative politics and the baggage carried by those who are its blind adherents.

Other people apparently use the term to denigrate the residents of the small-town and rural Midwest and Mountain west. I use it to describe the vast open spaces where the NWA planes don't land. Some people use it to refer to the place in the US where people use cream of mushroom soup as a binder for everything (that may be correct). Flyover land people may be conservative, and they may like cream of mushroom soup, but recent elections show us that this part of the country, however defined, is not homogenous. And that's a good thing.

South High Boys Swimming

It's starting again. The Minnesota high school boys swimming season is upon us. Joe High School, king of the 500 free, has turned into a monster, and goes to every practice. He is energized by the appearance of new swimmers, some of whom are quite good.

Keith Ellison and his consitutional oath

Keith Ellison, newly elected congessional representative from the MN 5th district, and the first Muslim to serve in Congress, plans to take his oath of office on the Qur'an. This has sparked outrage from the folks who haven't figured out that there is more than one way to be American. These people fear that the republic will crumble should Keith exercise his right. As Keith observed, atheists and agnostics are protected. Why not Muslims?

If people are really exercised about this, why not offer everyone an opportunity to swear on the Cosntitution? That's what it's all about, isn't it? But the flaming radical talking heads seem to have forgotten that, as they and their pals in the current administration seem to have forgotten many things about who we are and what used to make us great. For them, there is only one way to be an American, and that is their way. Amazingly, one commentator blogged that allowing Keith to exercise his right would do more damage to the United States than 911. Wow!

Even with all the warts of our system, the fact that someone like Keith can get elected, even from a never-vote-republican district like this one, speaks well for our future and badly for those who would like to turn us into a norte americana banana republic.

James A. Baker: not just for Florida anymore

I do find it interesting that people seem to be giving the Current Occupant a free ride on the James Baker appearance. This is probably because JB is more or less smart and politically aware, having served a number of Republican pols over the years. This seems, to us in the hinterlands, as a major improvement. You can hear the folks in flyover land whispering, "Well, at least there's someone in DC who knows the score." We feel this way because it's so apparent that the Current Occupant doesn't know the score, or even that there is a score. As Garrison said in today's column, the CO has the attention span of a 12-year old. Frankly, even 12-year olds with ADD have a better attention span.

Anyway, here we are, giving the Current Occupant a free ride because James A. Baker has flown to the rescue at the behest of Poppy. Have we forgotten already that it was JB who engineered the "election" in 2000 in Florida? Not so fast, folks. Let's keep on paying attention. We're not out of the woods just becuse the Dems won Congress.

Pie for breakfast

In Vermont, a Yankee is someone who eats pie for breakfast--EB White

Thanksgiving is a great holiday. There are no presents to buy, no decorations to dig out of the attic, and no need to answer the December-long question from well-meaning folks, "Are you ready yet?" While there can be great production values in a Thanksgiving operation, you can also lie around all day in your PJs or go out to dinner (if you can find an open restaurant) without it seeming to be a major federal crime. Of course, having lots of food, especially pie, makes it seem more festive.

But the really festive part of Thanksgiving is the aftermath. And I'm not talking about the shopping spree that retailers want you to undertake. I'm talking about leftovers. They start with pie on Friday morning. I make Thanksgiving pies with Friday morning in mind. The best pies for Friday morning breakfast are fruit pies, although anything will do in a pinch. As a pie-crust challenged cook (I don't use Crisco, so I'm doomed to failure), I focus on the fillings and take perverse pride in the very "home-made" look of the crusts. Today I had apple pie. The crust had kind of fallen apart, making the concoction into a kind of apple crumble. It was very good, going well with the French Roast coffee OLGS had made. If there's any left tomorrow, which I doubt, I'll have the blueberry.

And I've already blown my goal of gaining no weight during the holidays--I was going to just drink coffee all day today, with maybe a little side order of carrot sticks.

The secret of Michele Bachman

Michele Bachmann has been lauded in the STRIB as a fahionista. She is being compared favorably to the Nancy Pelosi-Hilary Clinton types who wear tailored pants suits and try to blend in. Michele does not blend in. She wears strappy high heals, upswept, artfully disarranged hair, and not the most modest of necklines. This, apparently, is part of Michele's campaign to bring back old fashioned femininity. "Since I was a little girl, I either wore my mother's high heels or aspired to wear high heels," gushed Michele in the Strib. The Strib piece notes that some fans call her "Senator Eye-Candy." A Strib columnist observed on election night, " She was dressed as though she'd been elected Homecoming Queen."

What was totally amazing in this article was the bit about her husband (the one who told her to run for Congress)and his shopping trip to Saks or NM--he came back with a slinky white dress with a jacket, which, Michele said, "I just slipped ...on." Listen, ladies. Would you let your husband go shopping for a major item of clothing for you without being present? This just confirms my very strong belief that Michele is not able to make decisions on her own. It doesn't bode well for the MN 6th district. But it will be interesting to see how official Washington greats Michele. She does look terrific for 50. Dorian Gray, anyone?

The color of purple, or Minnesota gets more blue

I wasn't going to say anything. I was just going to switch back to postings about teenagers, cats, and the Minneapolis Public Schools. But this has been a great week. American people awakened from their long slumber, looked around, and wondered what had happened. And they voted.

Not all is rosy. Some of the Dems elected are only slightly different from the Republicans they beat except for their opposition to the war in Iraq. And Dems now need to get stuff done that actually benefits the citizenry. This will be difficult when the Current Occupant has his veto pen out, wedded to his program of benefitting his friends at Haliburton, the pharmaceutical lobby, and people with enormous incomes. We'll see what they can do.

In Minnesota, the joy was somewhat muffled because our Republican governor, no-new-taxes Pawlenty, squeaked to re-election. And Michele Bachmann, the nut case we love to hate, also won in the MN 6th district. Not totally surprising, given the population of that district and the amount of outside money poured in, but disappointing. But, despite that, Minnesota is now more blue than purple. Even for the color blind, this is good news.

Houston, Texas, and the country mouse

It's not often that I feel like a hick from the country. I've lived in New York, have visited DC frequently, and usually feel as if I'm dressed appropriately and am using the correct fork. However, I went to Houston this week. And felt like the poor relation from the outback. The women dress. Really dress. And they shop. And they wear LOTS of jewelry. And they shop some more.

Of course, the good part about Houston is that everyone is friendly and polite. That goes a long way. But I still can't forgive them, and the state at large, for giving us the Current Occupant, no mater how chastened he appears at present. They really should have stuck to shopping. The world would be a better place.

Garrison kicks butt

You go, Garrison. Today in your weekly newspaper column, The Old Scout , you refer to the Current Occupant and his gang as merging "blithering corruption with murderous incompetence." I couldn't have said it better myself. Garrison's words were part of a persuasive essay on the joys of retirement, especially as they apply to Bush, Rove, and Cheney.

My papa, who is old and frail, is still very much aware what has happened to the country he served in WWII. His goal in his own retirement was to live long enough to see the Red Sox win the World Series. That has happened. So now he's on a roll: his plan is to live long enough to see the Bushies go back to the place from whence they came. If Bush took Garrison's advice and retired, my father could set himself yet another task--to see the Red Sox win twice in his lifetime. I'm not betting on either Bush or the Red Sox to do the right thing, but I am betting on my father and his cohort to do all they can to throw the bums out on Tuesday.

Vote early and often

If you need some relief from the relentlessness of the current drive to unseat the Bushies and all their works, take a peak at Edwin O'Conner's 1956 book, The Last Hurrah. Loosely based on the life of James Michael Curley, perennial mayor of Boston, governor, representative, and jailbird, the book will make you laugh until you cry, and cry until you laugh.

And "vote early and often" is actually from a campaign song for Curley. That's what we need right now--a campaign song. I just can't decide which of our great pols it should feature. There are so many who would be perfect subjects.

Romania and USCIS

In the wake of 911, our government no longer represents the people. It represents itself, and that is quite different. Here's a case in point:

My church, a large Unitarian Universalist congregation in St. Paul, has a partner relationship with a Unitarian village in Romania. Our tradition is to bring people here every other year. We have brought the minister of the Transylvanian village church, and an elderly couple who had never been on an airplane until they visited us in 2002. We had hoped to bring two younger couples to visit us this year. Guess what: they were turned down by USCIS (United States Citizenship and Immigration Service) after travelling over the mountains to the US Consultate in Bucharest. Because they did not have "compelling" (USCIS language, not mine) reasons to return to Romania, the two couples were denied visas.

What is "compelling"? You might well ask. These folks are substantial village citizens, church-goers, land owners, and parents. This was not enough for the United States, which apparently fears that these Romanians will become a drain on the body politic. On appeal, the USCIS reversed itself, offering a compromise. The two women can come to the US, leaving their menfolk behind, adding to the existing hostages--children, the farm animals, the house, the barn, the parents, and the jobs.

Is this retalliation for the Romanian president having the temerity to ask the US to drop visia requirements? Whatever the reason, this is pretty sad. But they are coming, which is great. I hope we can show them that not all US citizens are afraid and that our present government's fearmongering is not representative.

John Kerry does it again

Come on, John. Why give in to the fearful Democrats, and the incessant marketing of the Bushies? Tell it like it is, which is that what you said about being stuck in Iraq is nothing compared to the "weapons of mass destruction", "yellowcake" and the rest of the bald lies that have come out of this administration.

You don't need to pander to these guys. You don't tell jokes very well, but are you so weak in the knees that you can't stand up to idiots? You know, and I know, that picking on you is an act of desperation. Why not just toss it back at them and hope it explodes?

Dick and Harry

I went to a Halloween party this weekend. The prize costume was a two man show, one dressed up as Dick Cheney in full hunting gear, the other as the hapless Harry Whittington, complete with buckshot all over his face.

And Dick Cheney is the guy who is telling anyone who will listen that if we allow the Congress to slide in the direction of the Dems, the terrorists will win. Doesn't this sound a little desperate? I thought, silly me, that the possibility of changing your government peacefully was one of those blessings of democracy that we were trying to impose on the Iraqi people. I must have misunderstood ....maybe I have buckshot in my ears and don't know it.

Michele Bachmann

It feels like such a cliche to pick on Michele Bachmann. Nevertheless, the voters in the Minnesota 6th District need to think about whether they really want a representative in Washington who relies on her husband (and through him, God), to tell her what to do, what to think, and how to be. She, my friends, is not an independent thinker, capable of evaluating the current Washington nuttiness through any lens at all, let alone her own understanding of the needs of the MN 6th.

Both Michele and her husband, Marcus, have degrees from institutions such as Regent University or Oral Roberts U. These institutions, among other things, are known for their allegiance to a fairly particular and pecular variety of Christianity (I'm being polite here). I have to wonder, for example, what the Oral Roberts natural history museum features. Surely there are no displays illustrating geologic time, as, according to folks like Michele and her classmates, there is no such thing. Another telling feature of Oral Roberts is that, according to their web site, 572 applicants of the 594 who applied were accepted. This is not a selective institution.

But this is really not important, just illustrative of Michele's background. What is important is that Michele is apparently incapable of thinking for herself. Her husband told her to go to law school, study tax law (which apparently she hated), take in foster children, run for the MN House, and then run for the US Senate, changing quickly to the House of Representatives when it became apparent that Mark Kennedy was the annointed one for Dayton's soon-to-be-vacant Senate seat. She may not be able to think for herself, but boy, is she flexible.

And Michele still has a chance, at least if you read the tea leaves, or the national republicans coming to her aid. Laura Bush, Cheney, Norm Coleman, etc. But, sadly for Michele, not the Current Occupant himself. Apparently Michele has the hots for cheerleader in chief. The Current Occupant, says Michele, is "buff".

Hey, 6th District. Let's not make Minnesota a laughing stock. Vote for Patty Wetterling.

Woof, Woof, or Norm Coleman chases the stick

I used to think that Tony Blair was the ultimate lap dog, doing whatever his master in DC wanted in order to receive treats and lovin'. But Norm Coleman is an even better model. He is the darling of the RNC, because he comes from a blue state (sort of), and even used to be a Democrat (sort of), and pro-choice (sort of). But ol' Norm has religion (sort of). Today in the Strib, he was shown to have floated a "don't let all the states become California" measure to stop individual states from taking a stand on carbon emissions and, by extension, global warming. Nuts, but, given his current willingness to follow along two steps behind his master, fetching sticks and chasing random squirrels, not surprising.

But I do think Norm's tail has not felt the Minnesota change in the wind. The RNC has pulled out of Minnesota, except for the Michelle Bachman-Patty Wetterling race. Michelle is the kind of right-winger we secular humanists (haven't heard that for a while, have you) love to hate. Anti-choice, anti-public schools, anti-gay, anti-immigrant, Michelle stands only for turning back the clock to about 1880. And she still has a chance, in a district that is consistently Republican and a tough slog for any Democrat. So the RNC is in there fighting. But they don't seem to be bringing Norm in to stump for her. As the Strib observed today, Michelle is genuinely nuts, whereas Norm is only nuts because that's what his master wants. It's a head shaker--what happened to this nice Jewish boy from Queens?

Minnesota weather and liberal politics

It's snowing in Minnesota, or at least parts of it. This is not typical, although we denizens of the North Star State certainly pride ourselves on our harsh weather and our ability to tolerate it. We often exaggerate how cold it gets. It makes us feel important, unusual, unique. Certain pundits think that the weather, and our traditionally liberal politics (more or less), are linked. So here's the question: is the fact that MN is now seen in some quarters as a purple state, rather than a blue state, a consequence of global warming? The warmer we get, the less liberal? You wouldn't believe there is such a thing as global warming today--it's 35 degrees, with a 40 MPH "breeze". This may bode well for the DFL candidates for Congress, as long as it stays cold. If there's Indian summer, watch out....

Congressman Foley and sexual harassment

Poor Congressman Foley. But nobody gets what is going on. I find myself infuriated that this matter now seems to be about everything except the kitchen sink. The pundits talk about pedophillia, predatory behavior, and who knew what when. This last is the most on target, but everyone still misses the point.

What Congressman Foley did was sexual harassment. I'm no lawyer, but I believe that sexual harassment is when someone in a position of power requests sexual favors in an explicit or implicit quid pro quo. Teachers (you'll get an A), clergy (I won't tell your parents), employers (you say you want a corner office?), or congress persons (would you like to meet the President?). Co-workers and managers (i.e., Dennis Hastert) can be liable for sexual harassment even if they didn't do anything themselves, but allowed someone else to continue to harass employees, students, or pages. Both harassment, and allowing harassment, are in violation of federal employment law.

I'm so sick of people focusing on Congressman Foley's homosexuality, or the morality of his behavior, or the general tone of Congress. That has nothing to do with this. It's harassment, and Hastert should get out while the getting is good. It happened on his watch, he knew about it, and he did nothing. Whew!

Alan Fine and the Star Tribune

How dumb does the current gang of thieves think we are? Here's a knee slapper, or exhibit A. Alan Fine is the Republican candidate for Minnesota's fifth district, and a guy without a prayer. He thus can sling mud wherever it might stick, helping other Republican candidates for public office. He is now full of righteous anger because the Star Tribune revealed that he had an expunged domestic violence record. And Alan, of course, has been leading the charge against the DFL candidate Keith Ellison for his unpaid parking tickets. Character, says Alan, matters.

Now I may be dumb, but I ain't stupid. I do believe that parking tickets are qualitatively different from domestic violence charges. The hypocrisy of the GOP is seemingly unbounded. It's apprently OK for them to get away with stuff that is a tear in the fabric of our national moral psyche if done by Democrats. When you set yourself up as the party of righteousness, you have to expect that folks will take pot shots. It goes with the territory. So, Alan, if you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen. And, Star Tribune, keep on keeping on. More cliches later.

PS Take a look at Alan's web site. He's for (gasp) world peace! He appears to be starting off with a bang.

Foleygate and the Star Tribune

The Minneapolis Star Tribune, lovingly known to locals as the Strib, carries a horrible column by Jonah Goldberg, son of Lucienne Goldberg, the eminence grise behind the Monica affair during those halcion days of yore. Anyway, the Strib should be ashamed to run his stuff, but they, like every other quasi-liberal media outlet, pander like crazy.

Case in point. Today, ol' Jonah went on a rampage about the hypocrisy of Democrats, who, he believes, allowed Bill, Gary Stubbs, and other ghosts of a bygone era to get off scott free (censure? impeachment? scott free?), while taking poor Mr. Foley to the cleaners. I think Jonah missed the point. I don't remember that the Democrats campaigned on their so-called family values, their hatred for gays, or their religiosity. The Republicans did that. So, when they are hoist on their own petard, the GOP and their holier-than-thou supporters resoundingly deserve the label of hypocrite. There are certainly hypocrites in this story, but they ain't Dems. Take that mote out of your eye, Jonah. And Strib, stop wasting ink.

Minneapolis school conferences

It's school conference time in Minneapolis. It probably is where you live, too. Joe College Grad, who is teaching first grade in the Bronx, reported that he had sandwiched in parent-teacher conferences in between the high holy days and Columbus day. Apparently few parents attended.

That's not the case at Minneapolis South High, where I'm doing PT conferences for the third time. Most of the teachers are now familiar faces, and there are lots of middle aged parents milling around, learning that little Sean or Nick or Emily is doing very well.

And that's the problem with PT conferences, of course. The families who should come don't. Kids who have marginal school performance often have families who are diengaged from their school life. And it's easy to become disengaged. Now that I have kid #3 at South High, Joe High School, I feel as if I know the ropes. I don't pay as much attention to details as I did 8 years ago, when Joe College Grad hit South with a bang.

But education is the pre-eminent value in our family, so my disengagement probably registers as over-involvement on some meters. But what really struck me this time was that all the teachers are old, over 50. And that, of course, is the result of the funding scene in Minneapolis for schools. There is no money for teachers, and only the most senior have been able to hold on to their jobs.

And while there is some benefit to having a teacher who really knows what he or she is doing, there is also some benefit to having fresh perspective, energy, and gratitude for the job. And there is really major benefit to having enough teachers that you don't have to have 38 kids in a French II class. That is really disgraceful, and any Republican who tells you otherwise should have to teach that class for a week, although I suspect that they won't know French....

Logan Airport

I've been flying in and out of Logan for around 45 years. From my first solo trip to England, at age 16, to an unknown number of trips from MSP to Boston, Logan airport is either the destination or the departure venue. And, throughout all those years, it has always been under construction. Always.

Today, Terminal C (or was it B)--anyway, the US Airways terminal--seemed totally inaccessible because of massive sidewalk construction activities. Fortunately, NWA flies out of terminal E, which is the international terminal. During the day, NWA is one of the few airlines operating, making terminal E actually pleasant (the international airways perk up in the late afternoon). And it's no longer under construction, although it was for at least five years.

Apparently huge airports never cease their self-improvement activities. This constant effort to rearrange the landscape resulted in the Big Dig, an effort to streamline Boston's terrible roadway system that certainly helped fuel stereotypes about Boston drivers. Unfortunately, the Big Dig collapsed, killing a motorist, and causing the thing to shut down. The result, of course, was more construction on the tunnels that lead to the airport. As of today, the tunnel is still closed west-bound, forcing tourists onto the streets of South Boston. I do believe that the Boston economy requires major construction projects to stay alive. So even if Logan airport were cement-truck-free, there would still be massive disruption just getting to the place. There has to be serious government-funded construction activity at all times in Beantown. Right now, visitors to Boston who pick up rental cars at Logan are treated to a view of South Boston's industrial wasteland as they circle around the disabled tunnel. And I love it. Logan is my home. Just like Tom Hanks in Terminal.

Civilization and its discontents, Minneapolis-style

Yesterday afternoon was unpleasant. First, I went to Radio Shack. It's a tiny storefront in a down-at-the-heels strip mall. It was crowded, and there were three clerks, all girls around 16 or 17. I was working on my transaction, returning something, when a guy somewhat younger than I rushed in, went to the back of the store, and quickly came to the counter where I was standing.

"Excuse me, but you look like you're about finished here. Do you have a box of 50 CDs rather than 25 CDs?" We were not finished, as I had just started telling the clerk why I was returning the phone headset (my el-cheapo cell phone didn't recognize it.)

My body language or glance must have conveyed my irritation, as the man said, "Are you enjoying this beautiful day?" I turned to him in some puzzlement, as it was pouring, and I wondered who he was talking to. I grunted, and he persisted. "You know, I sacrificed so that you could enjoy this beautiful day. You should thank God for me every day."

He stared at me very aggressively, and I said, "Oh?"

"Yes," he went on, "I gave up my youth so that you could enjoy this gorgeous day."

I responded, "Oh, and when was that?"

"In Vietnam, " he said. "And you are alive and standing here on this beautiful day because of me."

I said, "Well, it's great that we're both alive." That clearly was not the response he wanted, but he kept staring at me. The teenage clerk was staring at him.

And here's the deal: I was not going to engage him on the mechanics of Vietnam, and how his presence or absence there had little to do with me. And, I didn't believe he had actually been there, unless he enlisted at a very young age. He was too young. But, the young clerk really couldn't deal with him and me, so I drifted away, resolving never to come back to that Radio Shack, even though it's the closest to my house. He was nuts. And he wore a pimp hat. But he had clearly fixed on that ploy to get people my age to do his bidding. It worked.

I got in the car and headed to the food co-op, stewing. Right behind me were some teenagers in a low-rider truck with the woofers at top volume. The pavement shook, and I heard the scatalogical lyrics of the song very clearly, even though my windows were closed. "I hope they go deaf," was my uncharitable thought.

Then I arrived at the food co-op. It was crowded, they were stocking the shelves, and I scowled at everyone, irritated by the self-righteous appearance of all the 40-somethings who were filling their carts with organic this and fair-trade that. My cart was similar, but, of course, I was not self-righteous. I fumed at the folks who somehow didn't sense I was right behind them and move over. I made my purchases and left.

Then I went to the liquor store. The tiny parking lot, which holds about eight cars, had three SUVs taking 1.5 spaces each. I had to wait to park. "People should not be allowed to purchase these things in the city. They accomplish nothing, and they are used for commuting, trips to the store, and anything you could use a Toyota Pirus for," I ranted to myself. I don't own a Toyota Prius, but my cars usually get more than 5 mpg. I finally parked, got my bottle of wine, and left. Someone was waiting for my space. The SUVs were still there--I suspect the drivers were not shopping at the liquor store.

Finally driving home, I fumed and sulked. Several of the streets were under construction, with huge ruts, and "Road Closed" signs. People did not know how to navigate these single lane streets. I fumed some more, believing that I had now figured out why people move to the suburbs. But I hadn't--not yet. At first I thought I had succumbed to right wing mania, and my dearly held liberal views and live-and-let live attitudes had finally cracked under the strain. But the enthnicity of all the offending folks varied, and included several of my own persuasion. Finally, after brooding about it for a while, a light flashed.

All of these incidents were caused partly by someone else's thoughtlessness and being human, in other words, self-centered. But, in the suburbs, there would be so much room that being thoughtless would not have been remarkable. There would have been a clerk to deal with the Vietnam guy at Radio Shack. The teenagers with the super sound system would have been able to pass me. The coop's aisles would not have been crowded. The liquor store would have had a bigger parking lot. In other words, they could have all been incredibly rude, and it would not have bothered me, because I wouldn't have experienced it. I would have just have continued to do my own thing, secure in my own little bubble, without outside intrusion. We not only need to learn to live together, but to do it in very tight circumstances. Density matters.

Why blog?

Because this isn't a political blog, but a collection of my musings, I try not to write about only one thing. And, to be honest, writing about the current unpleasantness in Washington and the world would be too utterly depressing if it were full time work. And my entries are sporadic, anyway, and outrages happen in DC more than daily. I just couldn't keep up.

Blogs have been around since 1994, but took off in 1998. There are now approximately 60 million blogs out there in the ether, representing people venting, telling their personal stories, providing political commentary, and displaying pix of their cats. Why do we feel the need to send our precious words into cyberspace? Is it like sending a probe to Mars, hoping that something interesting will come back with the space craft? I admit to enjoying trying to figure out who is reading my stuff based on the records in the site meter. I have regular readers in Missouri, Masachusets, and, of course, Minneapolis, although the Minnie readers could just come to the house and ask me. But the anonymity of reading someone's diary at a distance, with no chance of getting caught, is a pretty cool feature of modern life. But, of course, with site meter I can catch you.

Minnesota strikes again

My depression about 9/11--not the event itself, but the constant chewing it over five years later--has been lifted by the election in the Minnesota DFL (read Democratic) primary of Keith Ellison, an African American and a Muslim, to represent the party in the November election for the 5th Congressional district in this state. Keith is an anti-war progressive whose campaign slogan was "everybody counts". He reminds people of Paul Wellstone. He will win in November, because a Republican cannot win in the 5th Minnesota. He will be the first Muslim in the US Congress.

Did I ever say that I live in a bubble? When stuff like this happens, I'm proud to be from the North Star state, despite Jesse Ventura (I actually liked him for a while), Tim Pawlenty, and Norm Coleman. These last two give flyover land a really bad name, making us just a poorer, flatter, and less interesting outpost of northern Virginia. You don't need two of those. But the election of Keith Ellison bodes well for keeping us in the forefront of blue state culture. Huzzaa!

Bully Pulpit

Garrison, I take it all back. You can make all the jokes you want about Unitarians. Your weekly column in the Star Tribune, The Old Scout, suggested that the Current Occupant of the White House is a shallow jingoistic fool with a small rigid agenda and little knowledge of the world. People must say things like this, and say them loudly. You have a large fan base across the nation, people view you with (sometimes misplaced) nostalgia, and you have lots of print and broadcast vehicles. Use them to effect change. Use them to tell the truth about the boy from Texas. People listen, and you have nothing to loose.

And, being made fun of is probably not the end of the world. Tell those Unitarian jokes. Some of them are pretty funny.

Democracy Now!

Last night OLGS and I went to hear Amy Goodman, doyenne of the community radio show Democracy Now!, speak at a fundraiser for local Twin Cities Pacifica radio outlet KFAI. Amy was really, really, articulate, and a great storyteller. She was pushing a new book, Static, and told lots of tales from that book and from the radio show. Despite her Harvard education, or maybe because of it, she speaks in a way that is accessible yet still moving and compelling. Politicians, take note.

What bothered me about the event was not the speaker, but the audience. Everyone--about 500 people--had grey hair, pot bellies, and hearing aids. Where were the young people? One could say that they were not able to afford the $10 admission charge on a Friday night, having better stuff to do.

The other thing, of course, is that people under 35 are not radio people, whereas we geezers are. But Democracy Now! streams on the web, is available on public access cable, and on Link TV--all outlets which are available to the folks who should be our leaders in the very near future.

Does this mean that young people don't care? That they are so disillusioned by our current political disaster that they tune out, or, at best, act locally? Anyway, Amy was preaching to the choir, to people who already agree with her, and not to the people who should be hearing her. Are aging hippies, old potsmokers, and granola crunching types the only ones who care what is happening to our country? Say it ain't so.

Back to school

Another year has come and gone. I measure the passage of time by the turning of the year in September, rather than in January. From early childhood on, my calendar was the academic one. But there are lots of other ways of marking the passage of time and the changing seasons. There are religious calendars, and until the industrial era (sort of), the Gregorian calendar followed the Christian one, with the beginning of the year, or its end, somewhere around Easter, depending. There is the fiscal calendar, which begins in July or October or January, depending. The Jewish New Year takes place in September or October, depending. Chinese New Year, the Hindu New Year, and other festivals marking the new year take place sometime in January. It depends.

Here in flyover land, and mandated by state law, public schools cannot start until after Labor Day, when the State Fair is over and all the resorts have closed for the season and there is no longer any need for cheap, teenage labor. But private schools, whose students apparently don't need to work at the State Fair, usually return before that sacred date. Of course, there are places in the US--Aroostook County, Maine, for example--where school starts at the beginning of August and then stops so that all available hands can work the potato harvest or bring in the hay or whatever. And then it restarts again, and kids return to the classroom, or become fishing guides, or drop out. Depending.

Somali drivers' ed

On my way to work, I pass by the Minneapolis K-8 school that Joe College and Joe High School attended. Most public schools, especially in cash-strapped inner city districts, look pretty bleak in the summer, with weeds growing in the sidewalks, and torn posters flapping from the fence and pillars. And Anne Sullivan Communication Center, or ASCC, has all of these signs of neglect. But there's a bit of excitement in the adjacent the parking lot. It's been turned into an ad-hoc practice driving course, with gallon milk jugs and flags marking the edges and turns.

Who uses this driving course? I've never actually stopped to investigate, so I can't be 100% certain. However, it appears to be a place where Somali women learn to drive. Watched by their menfolk, they slowly cruise around the school parking lot. The men stand around, smoking and chatting. Of course, once school starts, the lot will be full of cars, and the driving lessons will end. But for now, it's pretty cool to watch the ingenuity of our latest group of immigrants.

Current Occupant needs to file a change of address

The poor boy on Pennsylvania Avenue (or is he in Crawford right now?) needs a little reality check. Declaring victory in the Israel-Lebanon thing, he made himself look even more clueless, or truthless, than usual. Every newspaper and media outlet was stating with unusual clarity that there was no winner in the Israeli invasion of Lebanon (except maybe Fox, but I don't watch that. But the Current Occupant blithely stated otherwise, continuing his (and ol' Karl's) pattern of government by proclamation. They clearly believe that if you make definite statements, even if they are clearly incorrect, and make them often enough, you'll change reality. Didn't someone try this in Germany in the 1930s?

Speaking in tongues

The news from Lebanon and Israel is much easier to take when it's written in Franch. Le Monde refers to what English-speakers call the Middle East as Le Proche-Orient, or the Near East, which has enough whiff of anachronism to make it paletable. But even with my limited ability to read Le Monde en Francais (enhanced, BTW, by the wonderful on-line translators) the news is grim. And I have this horrible vision of members of the fanatical wing of the religious right rubbing their hands in glee and hoping that that Armageddon has come at last. And the rest of us just sit here....

Elderly cat, part deux

Got a vet who says that as long as we're willing to pump kitty antibiotics into her, Judy the Cat will live. So, we're on the job. Every month for a week, we fill her full of bug-crushing meds, then watch her gradually slide down hill until the next month, when we start the routine again. Sounds brutal, but she actually seems a lot better. But giving her the antibiotics, especially when she's in suspicious mode and won't eat anything, is a two-person job. Even with her reduced weight and strength, she fights. So, OLGS holds her down on the kitchen counter, strategically positioned on top of the Star-Tribune sports pages, and keeps those deadly front paws in a manly grip. I load up the syringe, pry open her jaws, and shoot the stuff into her mouth. A successful encounter is when only half of it dribbles onto the pix of the latest Vikings scandal. There are better ways, but this works for us. I hope it works for her.

Elderly cat

What to do about a very old cat who won't eat? She appears congested, and seems to have difficulty picking up food in her mouth. We've taken her to the vet, and she has responded to antibiotic shots and liquid. But once the meds have worn off, she's back to the frail, skinny, ratty coat look.

She is very picky. She likes grilled organic chicken, cut up very fine, and crummy cheddar cheese (the orange kind), also cut up fine. She drinks evaporated milk. She spurns cheap tuna, except she drinks the liquid when you first open the can. Even very expensive canned cat food, such as Iams, does not appear to be on her approved diet. She no longer likes milk or cream.

But she still goes outside, hunkering down under the car even on the hottest days. It's probably safe there.

Why do we let her suffer? I don't know if she is suffering. And, I promised Joe College Grad that I would try to keep her alive until he gets home, which will be this week. Maybe he'll have the magic touch. At least he can take her to the vet for another shot of antibiotics.

Working 50 hours

Not so many postings recently--in order to pay for the European extravaganza, I'm working again. Not very gainfully, but when you're laid off in middle age, finding another position at the same level is nigh on to impossible. So, it's four ten hour days at one place, and one 10 hour day at another. Both employers probably get shortchanged on occasion.

Working two or three jobs to sustain the American Dream is not uncommon. OLGS has consulting gigs, summer school, and many other oppotunities to earn more money. I don't know any academic who doesn't take advantage of this.

Our long hours allow us to take European vacations, buy coffee at $9.00/pound, and live in a big house--a beat-up house, but a palace nevertheless--and represent a choice. I don't complain, and both jobs are fun and interesting. But, there are so many Americans who have to work two and three horrible jobs, at minimum wage, simply to keep a place to live and feed their kids. They have no choice. And because our pals in Washington are slaves to corporate lobbyists, the situation of those truly hardworking folks is probably not going to get any better. It's shameful that we are represented by these clowns who have somehow convinced at least some of the American people that we have absolutely no obligation, and that there's no cost. to having a resentful, economically fearful, underclass. Shameful.

So I don't whine too much, but I post less frequently.

Nicknames

Everyone knows that George W. Bush loves to assign nicknames to his friends, associates, and enemies. And the rest of us have returned the favor. Some of the nicknames are pretty nasty, reflecting negatively on the president's intellectual capacity. My favorite today, both funny and telling, is Current Occupant, as in "Al Gore or Current Occupant". Makes one think, yes?

Disabled access in Minneapolis

Generally speaking, Minneapolis, and Minnesota, are fairly proactive when it comes to providing access for the disabled (and complying with the law). However, sometimes there are some real headshakers. My current favorite is Seven Corners Parking near the University of Minnesota law school. At the pedestrian exit there are a number of handicapped parking spaces, and a nice wheelchair ramp leading to the exit door. However, when you go through the door, there is no elevator--just a rather nasty stairwell. There is probably another way out that could be used by folks in wheelchairs, but, let's use some common sense, too. Watch this space for more local puzzles on the topic.

Terror vs. terrorism

An insight into our prime leader's use of the word "terror": I used to think that this was a personal, untreatable tick, like his inability to pronounce the word nuclear. However, I now know that his use, and his commandeering, of the word "terror" is very deliberate, and right in line with his other efforts to scare the American people into supporting his policies.

Simply put, terror is what an individual feels. Terrorism is what someone else does. Thus, using the word "terror", instead of terrorism, transfers the action from those who bomb cafes or checkpoints in Iraq to people in the heartland who become sitting ducks, not just for terrorists (highly improbable), but for the fear (or terror) they engender. It is in Bush's interest to allow terrorism to persist, because that supports the existence of terror among the American people.

Very clever. But, as a previous president once noted, the only thing we have to fear is fear itself. And, thanks to Bush's use of the word "terror", and other mechanisms designed to scare the people, Roosevelt's pronouncement has now come to pass. But we know that our current prime leader doesn't know much history, so why should we be surprised at his craven use of words to instill fear, and thus support for him? He'll do whatever it takes.

Portugal

Since it's been almost a month since Joe High School, OLGS, and I returned from Scotland via Portugal, it seems appropriate to note that Portugal is wonderful. On the Algarve, it's rather touristy, full of Brits and Germans. There are so many Brits that there is a weekly newspaper for British expats. But it's a low key kind of tourism, at least in Salema, where we stayed. The Algarve is full of beautiful beaches. And in May, it was neither too hot nor too crowded. I suspect that changes. But the beach was lovely, the dark brown faces of the fishermen were the same as they were thirty years ago, and the food and drink were great. Be adventurous. Try octopus. I did, and it tastes like nothing at all except the broth in which it's cooked. And, the climate is Mediterranean dry, which means that permanent minor allergies caused by oak trees, maple trees, and all other kinds of northern climate flora, are gone. I didn't realize it until we returned to the land of the oak tree, but there are significant health beneifts to visiting Portugal. I'll proably have to return.

Prairie Home Companion

Despite my earlier posts criticizing GK for his anti-Unitarian jokes, I have to give the guy his due. First, he had Molly Ivins, one of my great heroes, on PHC last night. And she was funny, quick, and dead-on when talking about the prime leader GWB and the rest of his strange tree. As she (or someone equally smart) fantasized recently, you have to think that George H.W. and Babs are sitting around the pool, drinking whiskey sours, and wondering whether they should have used the smart one instead.

And then this afternoon we went to see the Prairie Home Companion movie--most enjoyable. Meryl Streep sings very nicely, and Woody Harrelson and John C. Riley were terrific as Dusty and Lefty. And, thankfully, director Robert Altman took out the bits from PHC that don't work so well, such as the ketchup song and English major jokes. It was nice to see all the radio business again, even though it wasn't live.

So, I have to say it, GK (with help from Robert Altman) has probably made being a midwesterner acceptable to those on the coasts. But, we don't want to be too acceptable--then we won't be midwesterners.

Minneapolis beggars

This is not a rant about begging and its effect on the community and on those who beg. Rather, this is a rant about beggars who use the same line over and over again. I realize that they ask thousands of people, and can't remember who they hit on last month, last week, or even yesterday. But if they at least moved the base of operations around, they would lower the risk of irritating people who were asked just a short time ago.

Example one: the gal at the bus stop at 5th and Nicollet. One summer morning, she approached me, reeking of alcohol, and asked for 50 cents "to get to work", implying that she already had the rest of the fare. I gave it to her. The next day, on the same corner, at the same time, she hit me again, although the second time she was seeking 60 cents. When I said that I had given yesterday, she turned away before I'd even finished speaking.

Example two: A guy in the Rainbow Foods parking lot at Lake and Minnehaha. He had a kid along, about 10 or 12, and asked for gas money so he could get back to the rez. I gave him some money. Today (six months later), he got me again, in the Rainbow parking lot. I recognized him not because of his story, which was now gas money to visit his mother, but because of the kid. Again, the instant I said no, he turned away.

Why does this bug me? Maybe because I believe the stories, which focus on a one time emergency that needs to be addressed. These folks want you to think they are not career panhandlers. And then, when I see them again, I am reminded that folks with a good story are essentially the same as those who wait at Interstate exit ramps. But I bet they feel superior and more enterprising. I probably would.

The issues are huge--substance abuse, lack of services for the mentally ill, reduction in homeless shelters, and everything else that seems to follow the Republicans wherever they win. And then there are the folks who worry about the impact that begging, homelessness, and public intoxication have on tourism. And my irritation means nothing to those I turn down because I'm irritated. They just go on to the next person. But if they were a little more creative, I probably wouldn't turn them down.

And the police solution, licensing, has even made it to Saturday Night Live. Now that's the big time.

Midtown Global Market--Minneapolis

Today was the grand opening of the Midtown Global Market in Minneapolis's midtown area. The building, formerly a huge Sears, with a tower, has been reborn, in a fairly short space of time, as a mixed use development with condos, lofts, office space, and an international food court. No Burger King or Wendy's allowed--only local entrepreneurs. There is a wide range of Mexican, African, and Asian food, with a few ethnic gift shops thrown in. There were huge numbers of people, music, free flowers, and a lovely day. I hope this endeavor really takes off. You Twin Cities types may remember St. Anthony Main, the shopping center that occupied some old warehouse buildings in NE Minneapolis. It lasted about 12 years or so, after a burst of great popularity, and now rents itself out as space for artists and office--a sad comedown. The Midtown Global Market is more centrally located than St. Anthony Main,with many bus lines stopping at the door. That should give it some legs. My only hope is that it doesn't drive out the other businesses on Lake Street.

OLGS and I looked at the lofts. As such things go, they aren't horribly expensive. But they are really dark, with only corner units having more than one window. If we abandon the single family house mode of living, it will be for a place with more, not less, light.

Last bratwurst before America

Don't laugh. On the Cabo de Sao Vicente, about as far west in Portugal as you can go without being in the Azores, there's a hotdog stand. Well, a bratwurst stand, for all the German tourists that swarm around the outpost of Prince Henry the Navigator (he actually preferred other parts of the Algarve--too windy here). There are lots of poncho, sweater, and other vendors along the path to the fort, and if you say nothing, they will address you in German. And the letzte bratwurst vor Amerika is really, really,good. I haven't enjoyed one so much since OLGS took me to a Brewers game back in the dark ages, circa 1973. I believe the Brewers won that day.

Memo to Garrison re Unitarians

Hey GK,

What's with the constant Unitarian-bashing? You did it again last night, making fun of those who talk about the "journey". Frankly, I'd rather be in in the company of those who are unafraid to admit they don't have all the answers, and are not required to believe six impossible things before breakfast (sorry, Lewis). But, I, and my Unitarian co-religionists, don't bray about our distaste for your type of certainty on national radio. We don't make fun of those who recite the Nicene Creed every Sunday.

A little factoid for you. Did you know that in the 19th century, US Episcopalians and Unitarians were joined at the hip, fighting the good fight against sabbatarianism, prohibitionism, evangelicalism, and the other movements that, then and now, threaten the fabric of our republic? Perhaps if we spent our energies doing that now, together, rather than making fun of each other on the national airwaves, there might be a little traction in the struggle against those whose stated desire is to turn us into a theocracy. A theocracy would not be good for you. It would not be good for those who think they want it.

So, next time you have a cute little joke about a Unitarian walking into a bar, try to resist. So-called liberal Christians are even more endangered than Unitarians, though they don't yet know it. They might be the target of a new generation of radio show gurus. Think about it.

No more churches

Looing back at the Scotland posts of the blog, it appears that the highlights of the trip for me were all the churches we visited. And, they are great--you get architecture, music, spirituality (maybe), and quiet all rolled up in a nice package. But right now European churches are more places of tourist visitation than of worship and contemplation. In this they are very dfferent from US religious buildings--as a highly religious nation, up there with various Islamic countries in terms of per capita religious observance, we use our churches for services and close them the remainder of the time. Kind of different--in UK churches with lots of visitors--St. Paul's, London, for example--they try to keep tourists out during services, or require you to attend to get gawking time. Churches are museums, monuments to ancient times, and viewed as such by the majority of the population, few of whom are observant. Welcome back to the US, where we have ugly churches and lots of religious fervor. I'm going to avoid both for a while.

Bye-bye Scotland

Leaving Scotland for a week of R & R in Portugal was kind of an anticlimax--we had to return to Edinburgh get the plane to MSP. And we departed flying steerage, aka Ryanair. Ryanair is a Dublin-based low-cost airline. They keep costs down by skimping on a few triffles, such as jetways, free sodas, and desk staff at checkin, which, consequently, takes about 1.5 hours just to get a boarding pass. And then there's the mess at the Dublin airport, which was not built to handle the volume of people now passing through. And, Ryanair forces you to go through Dublin customs in order to get a second boarding pass for the next leg of your trip--you cannot do through bookings. In other words, do not take Ryanair unless you're really desperate. And they make Northwest/KLM seem almost luxurious by comparison.

Evensong at St. Mary's Cathedral

We went to sung evensong at St. Mary's Cathedral in Edinburgh. They sing evensong every day, which is pretty amazing. St. Mary's is a typical 19th century pile with an endowment that allows it to provide choral scholarships to the choir school, and they allow girls to sing, which apparently is a big deal. Anyway, evensong on the day we went was pretty much plainsong with a very short choral anthem and the Magnificat song chorally. The congregation consisted of six people. I saw only one girl in the choir.

Rosslyn Chapel

On a rainy day, OLGS, Joe High School, and I took the bus to Rosslyn Chapel. Now famous as the one of the many locations in the Dan Brown book, The Da Vinci Code, the chapel is also noted for its exuberant decoration. And it is amazing. Most European churches, abbeys, etc., have some decoration. At Rosslyn, every available space is decorated. And since Oliver Cromwell didn't make it to Rosslyn, the stuff is all there.

As a site for visitors, it's too small a space to allow for careful inspection of the carvings that made it famous. And currently, the chapel has a metal canopy over it to dry it out--500 years of Scottish weather have left their mark. It kind of lessens the exterior impact of the place, which has a car park, a gift shop, and two pubs less than 100 metres from the chapel.

A local farmer has set up an honor shop right outside the property where he peddles his notion of the Da Vinci Code--50p for Da Vinci Bullshit--bags of cow manure. And I may agree with him, but it won't stop me from seeing the movie.

A grand day out

On a sunny and warm day, the three faculty spouses took a little jaunt to Crieff and points north in the Highlands. Although it was all quite lovely, the Scots drive very fast on B roads. which are the equivalent of a county road in Minnesota--and B roads are not straight, unlike county roads in Minnesota. Concentrating on scenery becomes secondary when you are contemplating your imminent death off a cliff.

The highlight of the day for me was a visit to the first lending library in Scotland, housed in an 18th century structure perched very close to the riverbank. The library was closed, but the setting was beautiful. There was a chapel on the site, stripped to the rafters, but with the remains of frescoes on the ceiling. You reach the site down a dirt road, past an abandoned chicken farm, suddenly coming upon huge yew trees surrounding the chapel and its graveyard. It was all quite magical--must have been the shock of the sunlight. And, when we returned to Dalkeith somewhat later than we thought, the students were all buzzing that we were MIA. In a small community, anything is grist for the mill.

Farewell to the sheep

The sheep, whose numbers grew after lambing season, were transfered to another pasture. Sheep are hard on grass, and need to be moved periodically to allow the grass to recover. I was relieved, as they all disappeared shortly before Easter; I thought they had a date with mint jelly and potatoes and was glad to find the mystery of their absence was easily solved.

They were replaced, a few weeks later, by two huge, retired, Edinburgh police horses. We named them Ed I and Ed II, and OLGS fed them apples every morning. They were clearly a pair. One day, when Ed I was removed from the pasture, Ed II went beserk. Normally very quiet and slow moving, Ed II galloped around the pasture at top speed, neighing loudly. This was an impressive performance, as Ed II was the bigger of the two, and at full speed rather scary. He went back to his regular placid behavior when Ed I returned. We never figured out whether Ed II was afraid that his pal had been taken from him, or irritated that he didn't get to leave, too.

Bluebells of Scotland

On the first warm and sunny day in May, I went for a walk in the woods around the 3000 acre Buccleuch estate (the Duke is allegedly the largest landowner in Scotland). Used by the Wisconsin in Scotland program for 20 years, the estate is full of lovely paths, trails, and lush countryside. Even though there's little sun in Scotland, the constant drizzle makes up for this, at least horticulturally. For example, the current five day forecast for Edinburgh indicates a significant chance of rain four out of five days, with the fifth being cloudly. And, believe it or not, this makes it bearable. Otherwise Scotland would be grey, cold, and barren. But a walk in the woods on a warm and sunny May day is proof that the weather gods can be kind occasionally.

More Scottish Museums

Museums in Scotland are usually well done, and quite often free. For example, the National Portrait Gallery has a well selected collection of portraits of Scots through the ages. The National Gallery is a collection of European high-spot paintings, with Titians, Tintorettos, Van Dykes, Rubens, Reynolds, Gainsboroughs, etc., dripping from the walls. In both cases the museums are accessible, with well-written labels and interesting display techniques. If they seem a bit shabby around the edges, put that down to the high levels of visitation and their status as free attractions. A good value.

Bowes Castle

Bowes Castle is a low-key attraction, not to be confused with the Bowes Museum, a huge, chateau-like structure intended to bring European high-spot painting to the masses of County Durham. We prefer the low-key stuff, and walked to the unattended castle in the dusk, with clouds of rooks circling overhead. The path takes you through the church yard, over (or around) a fence, and there you are. The castle is really just a keep, according to Joe High School. But you can enter the main courtyard, which wasn't all that big, and imagine 30 soldiers guarding or keeping tabs on the surrounding hills. There are signs requesting visitors to not climb the walls, and Joe reluctantly obliged. Then we strolled back to the Ancient Unicorn for dinner. My kind of outing--no crowds, picturesque scenery, and a good pub within easy walking distance.

Barnard Castle

An afternoon visit to Barnard Castle--a bustling market town with impressive castle ruins. The stones in the structure were carted off to build nearby Raby Castle, also open to the public. We did not attend, having overdosed on stately homes at Alnwick. OLGS, Joe High School and I had a picnic of sorts (primarily cream cakes, a rather strange Brit construct) on the grounds of the castle and then Joe High School literally climbed the walls while his parents took advantage of the sun. I tried not to watch, and it was probably not something encouraged by English Heritage. But he had lots of fun, and then went shopping on the high for gifts for his Minnesota pals. OLGS and I had tea in a tea shop that was standing room only. I do like these small market towns with all their retail therapy and their one historic attraction. It made a lovely outing, even if the camera batteries died without recording Joe's castle climbing activities.

Durham Cathedral

Durham Cathedral is billed as the best example of Norman architecture in the world--and it is indeed pretty cool. There are massive pillars--6.5 metres--to hold up the vaulted ceiling, with each pair of pillars in the nave having a differet type of decoration. St. Cuthbert and the Venerable Bede are entombed here. There is a tower that the intrepid can climb for a small fee. Parts of Harry Potter were filmed here (although Durham does not show up on the film locations map--see link). And, despite the many visitors on a Bank Holiday Saturday, the place retains the feeling of a place of worhip, no small trick given the size of the place and the hordes of tourists.

The city center is impossible to navigate by car, and the city fathers have prescribed a car park on the edge of town with a shuttle bus that takes you right to the cathedral (as well as Durham University and Durham Castle). In addition to being a cathedral town, and a university town, Durham is a market town, and there are interesting-looking shops and pubs, as well as an open-air market, in the area surrounding the cathedral. It's nice and low-key.

Hexham Abbey

A lovely surprise en route to Hadrian's Wall--the market town of Hexham with prosperous shops, terrible traffic, a very helpful tourist info. office, and the 7th century abbey. While most of the structure is 13th century, the crypt is indeed 7th century. There are some cool features--the monks stairs, a number of Saxon carvings, tombs with ancient knights atop, and a general air of recycling. For example, the baptismal font is probably Roman, with a cover made in the 18th century from 15th century wood. The monks stairs are now used by the choir to process for services. In short, nothing goes to waste at Hexham. And they have choral evensong on Sundays during term time.

Chester's Fort on Hadrian's Wall

A cold visit to Hadrian's Wall. I got the feeling I was at this same site 20 years ago. It's certainly possible. The Romans knew how to pick 'em--Chester's Fort is on a high bluff overlooking the North Tyne and the bridge they built to cross it. Anyone know why the Romans abandoned Hadrian's Wall, and, ultimately, Britain, leaving the remaining soldiers to melt into the surrounding countryside and become Brits? Or why they thought Britain was worth conquering in the first place? It was a long way from home, the resources were not obvious, and the tribute extracted from the subject population probably did not equal the cost of maintaining garrisons across the island. But maybe the Romans, like the rest of us, were seduced by England's green and pleasant land.