Elegy for a tom cat

Tom the cat died yesterday. The heat, his advanced age, and his off-the-charts hyperthyroidism got the better of him. His last few days were miserable. He now rests under a huge white impatiens plant in the flower bed where he spent most of his last summer days and nights, curled up on the wood chips in the shade.

He was a noble beast, huge in his prime, with a lion's big head and powerful shoulders. In his youth he was impetuous, taking on fights that always left him with wounds in his flanks, which some might see as evidence of cowardice, but that I saw as proof of his innate common sense. When he was outnumbered or outgunned, he ran.

He was never a great hunter, leaving that chore, as do his big cat cousins, to his sister. He guarded the perimeter of our house, fending off marauding visitors from across the street in endless stare-downs and with an inch-by-inch plan of attack that wore them down. At times he was more like a dog, wanting to be with people, following them around and begging for love. And he was more accepting than his sister when we took in a stray during a -30 degree spell one January. He was happy to ignore the interloper as long as the gravy train was still running in his direction. Until his last months, when his voice failed him, he had a loud croak that sounded like a cross between a Siamese and a crow. It was unmistakable.

He was a great cat who gave us 16 years of cat loyalty. In a species not known for this, at least among dog lovers, that's really something.

Sweet Sixteen

Remember the summer you were 16? I don't. Was that the summer I went to England by myself, or was it the summer before? Did I visit any of my out of town friends? Can't remember. And I suspect Joe High School won't either. What has he done this summer?

1. Been to swim practice twice.
2. Taken the classroom part of driver's ed.
3. Expanded his living space to two rooms, now that Luis has returned to Mexico.
4. Taken care of a couple of cats, plants, etc., for pay.
5. Lost his bike lock, rendering him immobile.
6. Gotten his ear pierced.
7. Bought the last Harry Potter at midnight on July 21st.

Looking at the list, it strikes me that he is probably typical, although maybe a bit more slothful than some. He is poised on the cusp of adulthood, but still reads Harry Potter. Of course, as soon as he's done, I'm going to read it, too. Just because I can't remember my youth doesn't mean I don't want to revisit it.

College Frenzy

It's started. Joe High School got his results from the AP tests he took this year--one in Chemistry, the other in US History. While we don't brag here at Domestic Tranquility, suffice it to say that he could use the scores for credit or exemption from prerequisites at Columbia or Princeton or Stanford. However, there's the little problem of his GPA in an inner city high school.

Pillsbury Hall, U of M

And an old friend is bringing his kid to check out a couple of local lights in the private college pantheon--Macalester and Carleton. Both good schools. But Joe, with a GPA barely scraping the top 15%, would probably not get in to either, despite the AP test results. These aren't the golden key they once were. But maybe lightening will strike. And it doesn't stop my bursting with pride at my baby's achievement.

Boomer blues

So much going on. Elderly dad not doing so well. Elderly mom coping, but exhausted. Young adult children need money, apparently supporting friends. Enabling sandwich generation parents wondering what to do. Anxiety producing times, but a story duplicated by the millions across the country as baby boomers finally come to grips with reality.

But what's truly amazing is the behavior of the two chief boomers, George and Dick. How can any sane person think that war with Iran would be a good thing, let alone something we could actually win? How does anyone accept with a straight face the juggling that is Dick's characterization of his position as VP not being part of the executive branch? How can one see George as anything more than a cardboard suit when he supports his master's maneuverings in public? And how can anyone see the commutation of ol' Scooter's sentence as anything more than payback for keeping mum?

And this was very, very clever. Scooter was not pardoned, and his conviction is being appealed. This means that he will not be able to testify before Congress for some time--maybe through 2008, because of the pending appeal. If everything goes correctly for George and Dick, the wheels of justice will grind exceeding slow. And the two chief boomers will leave their offices having avoided the reckoning that is surely theirs. It's enough to make one hope that Armageddon is real.

And it's clear from their actions and speach that Mutt and Jeff smoked a little too much wacky weed in those wonderful days gone by. We know that George indulged. We now have pretty clear evidence that Dick was a pothead too, leaving him with only a few brain cells to use to function as Veep. Too bad he didn't smoke more.

Minneapolis vigilantes and taggers

Don't think that all Minnesotans are nice. Exhibit A: Joe High School and about six of his friends, some on bikes and one in a car, parked bikes and car on East River Terrance and went to explore the abandoned box cars that sit on a railroad siding nearby. They left the bikes for a long time, moving on to other parts of the neighborhood. When they returned, the bikes were immobilized by padlocks through the gears. Both bikes and car had threatening notes suggesting that the kids were graffiti artists and gang members and that the note writer had pictures and license plate numbers. Joe is not a tagger--he can barely hold a pencil, let alone manipulate a spray can or fat marker. And there is nothing in the city ordinances that encourages individual citizens to act by targeting relatively innocent teens.

I was furious. Second precinct cops would not cut the locks, as the bike rack was on private property belong to St. Frances Cabrini church. Local neighborhood leaders shook their heads and reminded me that graffiti was a problem in that part of the neighborhood. The church administrator was unaware of any their neighbors taking matters into their own hands. The second precinct community liaison officer was not too surprised, partly because she knew about the neighborhood graffiti problem. But she did want to see the note, leading me to believe that maybe she had an idea. But I doubt it.

In addition to the inconvenience of Joe having his bike unavailable, this cost me work time and $20.00 for bolt cutters after our less sturdy ones broke. And then there are the threatening notes. Stay tuned. This ain't over.

And, lest you think that Minnesota is a totally blue state, remember the past. There's a history of vigilante action in this region that goes back to the beginning and continues to this day. That may be why no one seems especially surprised at or concerned with Joe's predicament.

Gratia Countryman and the Minneapolis Public Library

There was an op-ed piece in the Strib a few days ago by John Gonyou, singing the praises of Depression-era librarian Gratia Countryman. Gratia, the director of the Minneapolis Public Library (MPL) for many years, was unhampered by bureaucrats, unions, and, it seems, city government. She saw a need and she met it. The pull-back from Gratia's expansionist activities began as early as the 1950's, when MPL no longer provided deposit collections for public schools.

Although it would be wonderful to operate public libraries, and MPL in particular, in the spirit of Gratia, John Gonyou's piece is one more bit of romantic thinking about the state of public libraries in 2007. To put it bluntly, librarians missed the boat at least a decade ago, resisting the free, uncontrolled, and unevaluated information provided by the Internet. Because we abdicated management of the information explosion to the technies, the opportunity passed us by. At MPL, we insisted on purchasing obscure print business directories of foreign countries, such as Argentina, that were never used, perpetuating the just-in-case mentality that pervaded collecting at MPL. This is one example of the kind of thinking that contributed to the downfall of a great institution that was stuck in the past.

While being able to point to the existence of a comprehensive business collection, or the activities of an activist librarian like Gratia Countryman, is wonderful, it doesn't pay the bills. The librarians at Minneapolis Public Library committed the great sin of many public servants--we thought we knew better. We didn't.

Cat food, or there's something wrong with this picture

Judy the cat has made a remarkable comeback. It may be that she's getting her meds on a regular basis. But I think it's the shrimp. OLGS buys her the cheap frozen shrimp, chops it up, and squirts a dose of medicine on top. She laps it up. But think about it. Thousands of teenage girls in Bangladesh or similar spots labor over these tidbits. They never dream that the the little luxuries they're preparing will become the lifeblood of an elderly black cat in flyover land.

Minneapolis Public Library merger

The Governor

Let's see if I understand this correctly: RT Ryback, Minnapple's photogenic mayor, has been pushing the merger between Hennepin County Library and the Minneapolis Public Library systems, not because it will lead to an improvement in service for the citizens of Minneapolis, but because it will get the entire issue of MPL off his back. RT has demonstrated, in a variety of areas, that pushing the problem onto someone else is preferable to dealing with it. The current merger talks are just another bit of proof.

The Mayor

Anyway, the merger will cost $4 million. Does RT step up to the plate, offering any material support for the merger that he has been pushing? Nope. The gov., Mr. I-Might-be-Vice President-Some-Day Pawlenty, vetoed this, apparently because it gave no tax breaks to any of his friends in big business. So it's back to the drawing board, with RT put in the spotlight anyway. He only likes that spotlight when he turns it on himself. But let's give the guy credit. He has put himself in a good position to be the savior of the deal, the mayor on the white horse. And if he can pull this off, more power to him. This could be a legacy building effort, and RT would do well to pay attention and make this happen.

Post-Secondary Options in Minneapolis

Joe High School did not get into the University of Minnesota as a 10th grader, an admission that is theoretically possible. The U noted that neither his GPA or class rank fit the profile of admitted high school students. Things have changed. Joe College Grad, who was admitted to the U as junior eight years ago, had similar stats. The difference is that far more kids now apply to this high school program, known as PSEO (or some variation on this acronym, which stands for Post Secondary Education Option). And I bet they apply in larger numbers at least in part because public schools just don't have what they need. In the era of Pawlenty and his gang of tax-hating Republicans, the public schools in this state are shameful for a place that touts itself as an education state.

Anyway, that's why Joe wanted to go to the U--he wants to take AP Physics, which is no longer offered at Minneapolis South. He'll have to come up with a Plan B. Blaming his failure to get into the U entirely on Pawlenty is probably a bit unfair, but is entirely fair to blame the gov for the increasingly limited selection of course options at Minneapolis South.

Al Gore: Quixotic?

Heard Al on the radio tonight. He was pushing his new book, The Assault on Reason. Al may be stiff and wooden, but he is still a breath of fresh air. He spoke in complete sentences, making every word count. He skillfully danced around the interviewer's suggestion that he was calling Current Occupant a liar. And he used words like quixotic.

Although CO probably doesn't know the meaning of that word, and wouldn't use it if he did, it could apply to him if he actually had any whimsy about him. But he doesn't. We are locked in a trial by fire and sand organized by ideologues who are unable to say why we are getting blown up in the desert. They have dug us a hole so deep that no one can figure out how to climb out. That is not quixotic. That's stupid.

Wolfie

Unbelievable! One of the main promoters of the disaster in Iraq, Paul Wolfowitz, has been brought down (finally) by penny-ante corruption. The fact that in some countries he might be considered a war criminal is unimportant. But cronyism--now that's serious.

And the pronouncements by Current Occupant on the matter reinforce my impression that loyalty to one's friends is the most important value, even if those friends are venial, arrogant, and corrupt. Heckuva job.

Boston and points west

Another trip, this time to Boston to visit the old folks. My frequent flyer miles on NWA are getting up there. And, speaking of NWA, Terminal E at Logan, into which Northwest flies, is almost complete. It's only been 15 years.

Signs of the times: on the Massachusetts Turnpike, there are notices every quarter mile announcing the forthcoming toll booths, with an exhortation to provide correct change. However, the signs neglect to tell you the amount of the toll. Am I missing something? Or is this yet another example of "If you have to ask, you don't belong here?"

Ground Zero from the 37th floor

Another trip to New York, this time courtesy of those nice folks in Eagan, where I was accomodated at a fine Hilton hotel abutting Ground Zero. From the 37th floor, the hole in the ground was filled with little ants, toy PATH trains, and Tonka trucks pointlessly moving earth around in anticipation of another monument to capitalism.

And that is the point. Current Occupant shamelessly used the events of September 11, 2001, to give himself a free ride for the next four years, telling lies, invoking false memories, and playing to the worst in the American psyche. We are better than this, and should not be goaded into war by toys and by boys like the Current Occupant who play with them. The number who want to play with him is diminishing, but he does have all the marbles, so there are some who will continue to play just to stay in the game, engaging in the military-industrial equivalent of tearing the wings off flies.

Joe College Grad visited briefly, after telling me he was not feeling well and was going to bed. I returned from a lovely evening with the client to find, like Goldilocks, that someone was sleeping in my bed, watching my TV, and eating from my minibar. He was feverish and should not have come, but it was great to see him. He's counting the days until his gig at PS107 ends. Getting through the University of Chicago in four years is nothing compared to the challenge of teaching in the NYC public schools.

It is easy to focus on the personal and local, ignoring the damage we have wrought throughout the world. But when I remember those middle class Iraquis who are living in squalor in Syria, and whose dreams for their own children are now unattainable, it doesn't bear thinking about. They don't have the luxury we do, of ignoring the disaster that is the Middle East, complaining about the price of gas, and scheming to get our kids into Duke. This is not a game to them, and it should not be to us.

Film Festival

No posts for days and days. Elderly cat is stable, Michele Bachmann is quiet, and Current Occupant is on his downward spiral, rumored to be drinking and begging Laura to stay. Life in cube land continues to be boring. Spring has come to Gotham-on-the-Prairie. In short, not much is happening.

And then, along comes the Minneapolis St. Paul International Film Festival. Apart from the fact there are no screenings in St. Paul, the title says it all. There's a nice array of movies at different film palaces around town. Some of the films will be in general release before long, while others would never otherwise be seen.

There does seem to be a large number of Norwegian films. Given where and who we are, AND the presence of a Norwegian consulate in Minneapolis, AND that said consultate was the sponsor of several of the screenings, this is probably not surprising. However, the lack of African films is pretty remarkable. They have an entire semester class devoted to African film at the University going on right now. In fact, Joe College is (allegedly) taking the class. There are clearly African films available that are worthy of study. But not many of them made the cut in Minneapolis. Given that this area is home to a large East African refugee/immigrant population, including the largest Somali population in the US, it might make sense to include more African films. As we all know, the flood of Norwegian immigrants ended sometime prior to the Boer War....note to Minnesota Film Arts for next year: remember where you are.

So far we've seen German and French comedies. Our next outing will be to a Romanian movie on Friday. That will probably be it, given our lack of time to spend hours each day in a movie theater, enticing though that may sound. And that's undoubtedly why most of the congregation at the screenings appears to be of retirement age....they don't have to get up the next morning.

Private industry--a view from inside cubeland

Let's talk about paternalistic employers. To be specific, let's discuss a large publishing firm in suburban St. Paul. You know the one I mean--the one that is trying to get tax breaks from the City of Eagan to expand its "campus", using the carrot of more jobs, and the stick of pulling up stakes and moving to Podunk, OK.

Don't get me wrong. It's not a bad place to work, as private industry employers go. However, the pay stinks, they are continually upping the production expectations, and the physical environment is something out of Dilbert--miles and miles of cubes and a party-hearty atmosphere among the 20-somethings that make up the bulk of the workforce. I wear headphones cranked up to top volume. Losing a bit of hearing is a small price to pay for not being forced to listen to 10 no-doubt fascinating conversations at once.

Anyway, this organization, number 55 on Computerworld's Best Places to Work in IT, possibly to compensate for its shortcomings, offers its employees lots of little perks. There's the free fruit on Tuesdays and Thursdays. There's the turkey at Thanksgiving. There's the free coffee, milk, and tea. There are the subsidized cafeterias, with each day's lunch menu published on the company web site so you can make your dining selection before you get in line. There's the in-house Carribou Coffee, reputed to be the busiest one in the Twin Cities. There's the dry cleaning pickup. There is the subsidized health club membership. There are the discounted Twins tickets. There's the ability to purchase Word software for $20. And on, and on.

But, since most of us do not take advantage of these perks to make up for the paltry pay, there is really only one good thing about this organization, at least from the point of view of a lowly writer like myself. And that is that everyone is smart. Everyone. And that makes those conversations by the metaphorical water cooler, or the ones I don my headphones to drown out, very interesting. And that is indeed worth the price of admission--almost.