The Finnish Champion

I know a Finnish track and field champion and while I kicked about Finland one summer, I met him. He asked me if I would help him and his son retrieve some wood in their Toyota van. I welcomed the work after a few weeks of leisure.

He drove me to a house on the edge of town and when we got out of his car, he said, 'Here.' And I took a pair of gloves.

The champion's son was already there so we walked to meet him. He stood at the edge of the forest looking down an embankment.

He pointed to the house behind us. 'This man cut the tree. But it fell there.' And the son pointed down the hill. 'If we move the tree, I get it. Free.' The business arrangement sounded fine to me.

We set to work limbing the tree and cutting it into movable lengths. Fascinated, I watched them use rope to lift the tree and bull it up the hill. Eventually, the Toyota van sagged with the weight of the wood and he got his tree.

Free.

'Sauna?' The champion asked me.

'Kylla.' I replied.

I followed him to the other side of the house to the sauna which sat at the river's edge.

Inside, I passed kindling and tinder to the champion who built a roaring fire in no time. Soon we sat in the hot sauna easing the pain from our aching muscles.

'Teach me Finn.' I asked of the champion.

'Watch.' The champion threw water on the rocks. 'Vesi hyrry.'

I tried, 'Vessi hooroo.'

'No!' The champion got louder. 'Vesi hyrry.'

Again, 'Vessi hewroo.'

Frustrated, the champion bellowed, 'Vesi hyrry!'

Meekly, 'Vessi hoorew.'

Dismayed, the champion and I silently took more steam. I watched the water disappear into the air and whispered, 'Vesi hyrry.'

Victorious, the champion cried, 'Yes!'

Personal To Do List

One bedroom in my 3-bedroom house is covered in wall-to-wall papers and other sundry junk. I made two feet of headway into cleaning the mess tonight.

Just as I stopped for the night, I found my personal to do list from three or four years ago.

Be ok with yourself.
Realize that you fit with everyone somewhere in the middle.
Respect yourself.
Respect others.
Respect what others have to say.
It's ok to be afraid.
Use the Internet less.
Be honest more.
Love.
Identify stress accurately.
Admit defeat, tomorrow will come.
Be good to yourself.
Seek truth.
Hope for clarity.
Be patient.
Play. Don't win or lose.
Love yourself.
Understand anxiety and its causes.
Ask for help.

The 2 AM Pasta Salad Mishap

I see a recipe arrive in my inbox for a pasta salad for the pot-luck end-of-season coaching development meeting tonight.

Cool! On the way to my girlfriend's house last night, I buy ingredients, and set them aside after I arrive.

After dinner, we sit on her sofa and talk. She gently nudges me and says, 'You need to start the pasta salad.'

I reply, 'I need a few minutes to relax, process, and maybe even cry given the political events this week.'

She smirks a little, but mirth turns into empathy as tears briefly stream down my cheeks.

She whispers, 'Ok. Time for the pasta salad.'

We move to the kitchen and I realize that my sister is chatting with me so I leave briefly and my girlfriend continues preparing the salad. I finish chatting and I see that she made two cups of a wonderful salad dressing. The ingredients are prepared and the salad dressing lathers the salad in a big stainless steel bowl.

'I'm staying at your parent's house tonight. Do they have enough room in their fridge?'

She hands me the phone to call and her dad answers, 'Sure. There's a small fridge downstairs that you can empty the beer out of. Replace the beer in the morning.'

She smiles, 'That's what I thought that he would say.'

We return to the sofa and time escapes us before it's clear that I have to leave. I arrive at her parent's house at 2:00 AM and I creep silently into their house so that I do not disturb them.

I see the college-dorm fridge on a table and open the door. The short shelf is way too short for the steel bowl. I think of my options while I move the beer out of the fridge.

I know what I'll do!

I'll tip the bowl on its side.

So I do.

The weight of the salad strains against the saran wrap cover and I see the dark, savory salad dressing dripping down the fridge.

Uh oh!

My weary brain searches for a solution. I can't bang around upstairs for paper-towel.

My socks!

I take one of my socks and sop up the salad dressing that dripped from the fridge onto the table.

I sigh. Disaster averted. Now what do I do with the salad?

Bags. I need food storage bags. So that means that I have to bang around in the kitchen after all.

So I creep upstairs through the silent house and furtively search through the cupboards and drawers to find, finally! Storage bags!

Spoon.

I need a spoon. So I take a teaspoon and tip-toe downstairs to the salad bowl, bags in hand.

Eventually, I transfer the salad to the bags, tie them and return the salad to the fridge.

I shrug.

Oh well.

I take my other sock and sop up the remaining dressing from the floor of the fridge and place the salad safely in the cold box.

And then after once again creeping up two stairways, dropping my cellphone, stumbling once or twice, I reach their spare bedroom and sleep.

US Presidential Election

The excitement buzzing at the polling place yesterday was tangible. The heaviness in my heart was, too, while I carried my empty ballot, voted, and cast my choice into the pool.

So today my hopeful passion for a McCain-Palin victory is gone and in the aftermath, I will soon have a US President that I will never trust.

Perhaps liberals and Democrats have the same negative feeling about Bush and perhaps these feelings were the only political capital needed to sway the goofy popular vote.

The loudest message during the campaign was, 'See that guy? Yeah, Bush. I'm not anything like him. Vote for me!'

A close friend opined that people in Massachusetts would rather vote for a dead tree than anyone resembling a Bushie.

The victor is completely unlike Bush. It's true. And the pit of my stomach boils out of love and concern for America.

Until I know an answer, my concerned curiosity is unswayed regarding the simple citizenship of our new President. Was he born in Kenya and registered in Hawaii? Does his Presidency violate the simplest requirement set forth in our US Constitution?

I will never trust him because of this and all of the reasons listed previously in my posts.

So it is time to watch and to pay attention and perhaps use our American political system, while we still have it, to fight for the freedoms that are key to our fine nation.

I could start simply by asking:

Who paid for his ego bath last night as he celebrated his victory among throngs of enraptured followers?

As a taxpayer, I certainly hope that my federal taxes did not.

Is it too much to ask for a humble, frugal celebration in the time of economic decline or dare I say depression?

Question of Character

During the Keller at Large segment on WBZ radio today, Jon Keller said simply, 'The US Presidential election is coming down to a question of character.'

0 used his money to pay for a 30-minute infomercial last night. McCain is traveling by bus to campaign throughout northern Ohio.

0's character:
- family man
- foggy residency (I would really like to know, is he a US Citizen?)
- unexplained gaps in his personal history
- former cocaine user?
- associates with anti-Americans
- associates with anarchists
- unable to provide specifics on anything
- shows empathy, but little else

McCain's character:
- family man
- patriotic to a fault
- lives by blunt honesty
- 4th generation US military man
- scrappy fighter
- maverick
- loves America

So let's set the question of character against the failing world-wide economy. Things are bad, and they're going to get worse.

When the long, cold winter hits (either this year or next) and our fellow Americans are cold and hungry, would you rather have a US President standing by you who launched his campaign (but doesn't admit it anymore) from the living room of an anarchist (Bill Ayres)?

Or would you rather have McCain standing by you, who sacrificed his body as a POW because he refused to become political capital for the enemy and furthermore, encouraged his fellow Americans with smiles and hand gestures to keep up the good fight. Afterwards, the beatings doubled.

I have no clue who 0 will sell us out to when his money runs out and times get tough. But I know that McCain will give every ounce of his resources and energy to the America that I also know and love.

Playing the 'Follow the Money' Game

I played the 'follow the money game' last night as it relates to national politics.

In business, to winnow truth from an unclear political situation, the follow the money game reveals who has resources, influence, and power and who stands to profit the most from any action.

Time and time again, I hear the media explain that 0 wants to prop up the middle class by taking money from the rich. And then I consider how much money 0 raised to spend dominating the media outlets and cause a frenzy among his supporters.

My mom said eloquently, 'I don't believe that his money comes in $5 and $20 donations.'

Neither do I.

Gobs and gobs of money means that someone who is rich gave it up.

But does any reasonable person buy this sales pitch:

"Oooh...you're rich! Since you are rich, give me your money to elect me! And then after I get elected, I'll take the rest of your money and give it away!"

I believe that many rich people live vacant, lonely lives; but I never thought of them as fools.

So who would gain by giving 0 money?

The only place that I know of that has gobs of money from decades of profit is China.

China?

Dumbfounded, I blinked as I discussed these topics with my mother last night.

Towards the end of our conversation, I said quietly, 'It would be so much different if the situation wasn't real. But it is real.'

She simply nodded and we looked to the floor.

Conscience Versus Media Bias

I write for a living and there are flashes of time where I doubt the words that I pen.

With my technical writing, I have to carefully consider each word and step in procedures because revenue and livelihood hang in the balance.

So I relate intimately to an article by Michael S. Malone that is posted on ABCNews.com. The article explains the writer's journalistic experience and contrasts his humble integrity against the travesty of media bias in our current US Presidential election.

Media's Presidential Bias and Decline, by Michael S. Malone

If you are kind enough to read my words, you see clearly where my heart lies in the current US Presidential election. But I accept a future that goes contrary to my bias and one that is unknown, with silver-linings that are obscure in the moment, but do not appear for years. I want McCain to win: pure and simple. What is meant to happen will and I simply have my pen and a single vote.

However, the media bias as Malone describes corrupts the entire process. Our US Constitution guarantees us the right to vote and we should be able to trust the media to present balanced information so that we can judiciously exercise our right.

Time is winding down on the election and my last desperate thought is that my fellow Americans will put pen to ballot and be served by conscience to choose a candidate based on merits rather than a focused bias in the media.

Since the merits of the candidates are unclear and clouded, I have to trust conscience to sway the balance in our heart of hearts.

Because as ink touches paper, conscience ultimately decides.

Politics on the School Bus

The school bus was pulsing with energy from 39 people in our soccer program. The bus lumbered along towards Foxboro and a NE Revolution soccer game after we wrapped up our local soccer season earlier in the day.

Another coach and I sat together, weary. We wrapped up one of the most rewarding, yet trying seasons and talked intermittently as we rested during the bus ride.

As you know, US Presidential politics have been on my mind lately and I explored many points of view as demonstrated in my blog postings. As the bus moved, eventually our discussion turned to politics.

The other coach explained that he is a conservative Democrat and I am a moderate Republican.

His point: the government is too big for one person, the US President, to make a big difference.

My counter point (that I thought of later): then why are liberals so concerned about Bush?

He respected my point of view and I his. We explored corruption in upper management. We discussed social issues like abortion. He explained his odd track record of the anti-vote where he always votes for the loser in a US Presidential race.

The bus full of soccer enthusiasts saw the stadium lit up as we approached the parking lot.

He turns, 'Tim. Listen, you do know that 0 is going be elected, right?'

'Yes.'

'And you do know that he will be assassinated, right?'

'Yes, I thought of that, too.'

And we both shrugged a little and looked into an uncertain future.

Family Growth

My sister Amy delivered twin boys today. Their names are Michael David Koukkari and Colin Douglas Koukkari. Michael was born 5 pounds 9 ounces, and Colin 5 pounds 1 ounce.

Michael had some issues with blood sugar so he's getting some special care, but otherwise mother and sons are doing well. I coached a soccer game tonight so I couldn't see them, but I plan to see them tomorrow night.

Vacancies

I rarely see the birds in the houses that my niece designed, but the year went well.



I hope to see my tenants again next spring.

Now I see the communist allegation in action

**update**

After thinking about this post more, my ideas reflect how I felt the night of the presidential debate, but I see many inaccuracies and leaps of logic that I would need to research to be confident in.

I'm worried about the state of the economy in the world. I don't see 0 as a person who can solve our problems as you undoubtedly see clearly in my opinions.

The root of the problem in my opinion, is not corruption in the upper echelon of capitalism's management; but in the very fabric of unchecked materialism in our society. We as a whole careened wildly from basic needs into satisfying unrealistic wants.

And what is happening, in my opinion, is a social correction as much as an economic correction. We are adjusting to a more common and realistic lifestyle.

As my friend Derek researched in the belly of the beast in lower-Manhattan. Things are bad now, and they're going to get a lot worse. Along that line, we need the best and the brightest fully engaged to ease the transition to a more fundamental economy.

Rather than beat down the guys at the top, let's leave them alone so that they can do their job.

**end of update**

During the debate tonight, I heard a comment in 0's opening remarks that sent a stream of dominoes falling in my thoughts and helped me understand the poisonous nature of the communist influence in 0's upbringing.

'We have to hold the big CEOs accountable and in my opinion fire them!'

I'll circle back to my reaction to this comment after I relate the statement to my experience in business.

My job is temporarily difficult. Three levels of management are giving mixed messages for the direction of our writing team. My mission is clear, but only internally because of my values, that I am going to produce world-class information for our customers.

Like any good capitalist, I evaluate my resources, identify the challenges, identify the needs of the consumer, roll up my sleeves and get to work.

Things line up easily in my thoughts until I get to the internal challenges. To get permission and support, how do I reconcile the the mixed messages from three levels of management?

Do I stay loyal to my direct manager? Do I cater to my second line? Or shoot for the moon and trust my third line and work to his constraints?

I don't know. Usually I just follow my inner guide and hope for the best, knowing full well that any task cannot satisfy all three people and I'll get pressure. Maybe even a good business-style whooping. And I think about all of this often. What do I do?

Chaos.

But notice. Where is the customer in this?

I'm too busy fighting internal battles to keep the customer in mind.

How efficient is this?

Luckily in my job, my fourth line manager, the CEO, is someone that I trust. He speaks plainly. He sets a clear vision that I relate to directly. I know exactly how to do my part to satisfy the vision.

In fact, last spring, he stood before the corporation and smiled saying, 'I have done this a couple of times before with similar businesses and we're going to grow the business to 2 billion dollars.'

Trust. How refreshing.

The CEO is very likely independently wealthy and in my opinion he earned every penny during his career. He has charisma, establishes trust, and has a proven track record. He's even transparent and it's easy to see how he is growing the business.

But wait, 0 said that we'll have to fire this guy and certainly people in his cohort. He's obviously doing something very, very bad to me, my family, and my community.

Let's go with the idea that my CEO is fired for a minute, Suppose that he's gone and my third-line manager gets promoted to CEO. When the old CEO is fired, I lose my comfort until my third-line finds his feet as a CEO. Or maybe he doesn't. Maybe he declines the promotion so that he can focus on what he does well.

So we'll go out into the market to find another charismatic CEO with a strong track record. There are plenty of them who are unemployed after 0 fired them all.

Interesting.

None of them want the job. Because if they succeed, they're going to get fired. If they take the job, the physical, emotional, and intellectual sacrifices that they make will not be rewarded financially because 0 took their financial incentive away, too.

I'll never be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I suspect that the CEO's are taking regular people jobs. They're packing boxes in some non-descript warehouse at the level that 0 wants for everyone.

Where does this leave me? Focusing on endless internal battles and skirmishes while the needs of the customer fade away.

From the Merriam Webster online dictionary:
Communism: a system in which goods are owned in common and are available to all as needed

With 0 at the helm, do you see, as I do, how everyone is equal when the CEOs are tucked safely away in the warehouse and we all just work in chaos without leadership?

The poisonous communist influence during 0's upbringing is crystal clear to me after I heard him debate McCain tonight.

Dangerous.

I hope that the majority of Americans see what I see.

Windfall

After several weeks of not going, I walked down to the brook yesterday and was surprised to see a windfall.



Lightning struck a different, equally sized white pine last summer and now this.

I'm trying to figure out how to harvest the windfall.

Continuing Direct Welfare

Perhaps I repeat, but I see a train wreck approaching. So I'll tell the tale again, winding through history and ending with presidential politics.

The first textile mills in the United States were in New Ipswich and downriver in Greenville.



In the late 1800s, Greenville boomed and had enough economic clout that a small portion of Mason was carved out and Greenville became its own town. Neighborhoods with urban density sprung up to house the mill workers.

The water power was perfect for the mills. Business and life was good.






The citizens decided that the railway should not pass through the town and was diverted to Fitchburg. Fitchburg boomed. Greenville declined.

Time marched onward. The dense population in Greenville found fewer jobs in the mills so the citizens traveled out of town for work. Less money flowed in Greenville.

The New Hampshire property tax system penalized Greenville because there simply was not enough land to tax. Tax rates increased.

Due to the urban population density, state and federal law dictated that Greenville provide city services such as sewage and water to all its residents. Costs soared. Taxes increased.

Time marched onwards and the mills went dormant so the economic basis withered away. A food processing mill started. Some other businesses appeared, but all the money was largely outside of the diminutive town borders.

Greenville joined Mason and New Ipswich to form a regional school system named Mascenic. Since property taxes fuel the state and local coffers, the tax rate in Greenville was higher than New Ipswich and Mason. There simply isn't enough land.

I own property in New Ipswich and the majority of my taxes pay for the Mascenic school system. My taxes subsidize Greenville since the town is a depressed town. What does this mean? Without the Greenville subsidy, my tax rate would be a few points, a few hundred dollars less annually.

I know the teachers, curriculum, administration, and the children at Mascenic. I interact with the parents of the elementary and middle-school aged children through the local soccer program. In 1989, I graduated as valedictorian from Mascenic.

The Greenville subsidy of a few hundred dollars each year only makes sense.

Annually, I inspect the Mascenic budget report so I know that my brother-in-law who teaches at Mascenic is accurate when he says, 'Mascenic may not offer a world class education, but everything is solid. And the community is surely getting a bargain.'

Mascenic routinely rates towards the bottom in New Hampshire in per student-capita spending.

My direct subsidy helps the community that I love. This is, in my opinion, the perfect welfare system.

This relates to my deep fear on a national level. I am deathly afraid that if McCain-Palin loses, the democratic regime will pervert this perfect system.

They will take more of my money in Federal taxes and attempt to subsidize communities in equal need throughout the country and world.

But the system is not perfect on a national bureaucratic scale, as it is on my local level. The possibility for corruption and waste is vast. Who has the energy and calling to inspect money flowing to far-away places?

The less money that I have, sent into a far away, un-inspectable destination, means the less property that I can own locally. And my local subsidy dries up.

The problem doesn't go away, but perhaps the citizens of Greenville will. Or if they stay, I and like-minded people will need to solve the subsidy problem despite the federal government.

I desperately hope that McCain-Palin wins the upcoming election.

*giggle* Wave! *giggle*

The morning air is crisp now and I drive over one of a never ending string of hills on my way to work.

I grimace because over the hilltop, I see yellow.

It's a school bus and I'm first in line behind them.

The angle of the sun illuminates the parents and their small children who look both ways and the children furtively cross the street to the bus.

The older kids in the back of the bus are rowdy.

Soon I catch their attention and a pack of kids stare at me wide-eyed.

A girl kneels on the last seat and impulsively waves.

I grin and my fingers on the steering wheel fan into a wave.

Inside the bus, I see an eruption of waving as my movement breaks their boredom!

I smile at the enthusiastic kids waving and waving at me.

I open my fingers again to wave as I shift slowly through the gears as I travel at the pace of the bus.

I smile and they all smile back.

Time and Consumables

Briefly, I have to dump a recurring thought here.

I walk into the kitchenette, dispense a cup of water into a paper cup, drink, and toss the paper cup into the trash.

How very American!

However, oftentimes, I take a little mental time travel related to our consumable lifestyle.

Imagine for a moment, that the cup is made of paper, the paper was made of a tree, the tree was in a forest for decades before it was harvested.

So with a flick of the wrist, I fulfilled the purpose of all that time and energy. Water to lips. Drink. Discard. Move on.

Would we be better off if we ease ourselves away from such a consumable lifestyle?

I know that I should, but only intermittently do I carry a ceramic mug to drink water. And I should extend this to using a metal spoon that I wash after I eat oatmeal at work.

The silver lining to the upturn of fuel prices is that we all have to think more and more about this and not simply take a mental time travel from time to time as an intellectual exercise.

Imagine how much more efficient our world would be if we each make a small effort in this area.

Where did the water go, eh?

'So where do the drains on the pool deck go?' Tristan asks as we sit alongside the pool in a Days Inn in Sudbury, Canada.

'There's a surge tank below the deck with a pump in it. The water drains into the surge tank and the pump replenishes the water into the pool.'

Tristan nods.

'So if 30 fat guys jump into the pool, the water goes into the surge tank until they get out. This way the water level remains the same.'

Our conversation drifts off and four college-age couples giggle and mill around the changing rooms and sauna.

I turn to Tristan, 'You going to swim?'

'No, it's too cold.'

I suspect that he's concealing a smile.

'Cannonball.' I say smiling at him, looking from him to the water in the small kidney bean shaped pool.

He frowns his dissent.

A college-age girl peeks into the men's changing room to yell at a boy in the shower. She lets the door slam and heads to the sauna.

'Oh, c'mon. Cannonball!' I push Tristan harder. He's a big boy. A cannonball would be funny!

He frowns again.

The men's dressing door room opens and a shaggy, blond college age kid emerges and mills around the pool deck.

'C'mon. Cannonball. Or are you waiting for an audience?'

Frown.

I smirk at him.

He jumps up and runs toward the pool, jumping, rotating, and plunging his large body into the water.

BOOM!

A column of water shoots up and sprays the ceiling. Waves roll over the pool edge onto the deck.

I start laughing and Tristan bobs up for air, laughing.

The shaggy, blond Canadian boy laughs too and ask simply, 'Where did the water go, eh?'

Tristan pulls himself out of the water onto the flooded deck, water swirling into the surge tank drains.

We're laughing.

The sauna door opens and a girl comes out to ask what happened. The shaggy blond boy talks quietly to her and I nudge Tristan.

'You got an audience, do it again!'

Four steps, he launches toward the pool, rotates perfectly again.

BOOM!

The water sprays the ceiling again in front of an even bigger audience.

Soon the entire sauna empties as Tristan emerges, dripping from the pool. A couple and their young son are trying to get into the pool house.

The girls interest peaks and they urge Tristan to do another cannonball. I up the ante and appeal to his sense of responsibility, 'Quick before you influence the kid trying to get in here. Someone hold the door!'

Laughing, giggling, Tristan once again darts towards the pool, jumps, and rotates perfectly.

BOOM!

Water again sprays the ceiling, waves churning violently in the pool, and I dart over to rescue his clothes on the increasingly wet pool deck.

I look at Tristan as he sits again. We're both laughing until we double over and tears well in our eyes.

My Heroes

We have a new wave of co-workers in manufacturing, the contractors, in the office.

Moments ago, I brewed a cup of tea in our small kitchen, and my heroes, the contractors, were sitting around the coffee table on their break.

The Asian woman asks emphatically of an Indian woman, 'Tell me, what do you want for your children? You realize that there is a huge difference between wants and needs, right? We all want a nice car, we all want a nice house, we all want; but what do we really need?'

The lively debate continued as my tea brewed, steaming in my cup.

Another woman offers, 'When my grandson came along, he became the most important thing in my life. The world can blow up, but as long as I have my grandson, I don't care.'

An Indian woman offered her point of view, and the man at the table chimed in, too.

The Asian said, 'But in my country there are so many people who do not get off their ass. They just sit there and don't realize that they need to work for a living.'

I smiled and my heart swelled, but returned to sadness because I am afraid of how few in my engineering and business cohort have such clarity on the wants versus needs debate. Again, refer to my other posts of how the media poisons us, but I digress.

My mind neatly fit this vignette in the kitchen into other stories that I glean from our manufacturing staff, my heroes. I talk to the Vietnamese man who just purchased solar panels and started taking scientific data from it so that he can build his business based on science. Perfect.

After work one day we stood in the entryway and he proudly showed me the design for his business. In halted, unsmooth English, he explained that his brother-in-law in Vietnam has a manufacturing house with 400 workers and all he has to do is open the pipeline for solar equipment. But he has to get the data first.

Furthermore, he explained how the solar panels harvest photons from the sun.

He'll be a millionaire someday, and soon.

I see so many people in my economic cohort that miss the vibrant life of my heroes. We count calories and debate the merits of our 401(k) investment strategy. We calculate our green potential and our carbon footprint because the media tells us so.

But my heroes are here among us. They debate. They explore. They live. They care because they have nothing else, but the true American dream. They are finding their way to explore, grow within, and celebrate the American freedoms.

I joke about this often by saying simply, 'I never want to go too far away from the bottom deck of the Titanic.'

The Sentimental Chicken

Earlier today, I walked with my semi-retired co-worker to a conference room and we chatted casually. When it was my turn to share, I reflected on the family picnic and processing chickens.

As usual with the elderly set, his eyes lit up and he listened intently to the details of my chicken story. Most elderly people that I talk to share their own sentimental stories of raising chickens. And so did my co-worker retell the tale of headless chickens running around during his childhood.

I mentioned this elsewhere in my blog, but it is worth repeating that the general American, shrink-wrapped lifestyle is moving us away from a more common history. It's great to share with the elderly, but at the same time, a bit sad that such an integral part of daily life is slipping away.

The Family Picnic - 2008

When we were done and the well water smelled of New Hampshire granite, my brother-in-law walked up the slope saying, 'If this were my house, digging a hole that deep would have taken me hours.'

I smiled as I hosed down the area that we had processed chickens at sunrise. 'My property is good for digging holes.'

Prior to this, we processed four broilers and while I cleaned them inside, he dispatched my hen-beating rooster with a .22. The overall work was simple today and one of the broilers had, as I suspected, some type of birth defect as evidenced by a short neck and a curved torso.

I saved the chicken livers for my friend to make pate (I look forward to tasting it) and I also look forward to a chicken dinner at the picnic later today.

I expect over 80 people since my first cousin once removed is getting married next weekend. I think that many additional people will come to the picnic who will be enjoying the whole week for a late-summer vacation.

When I associate with people at work or in my volunteer efforts, my lifestyle both amuses and shocks people. Some people cannot see me as a farmer responsible for raising some of my own food. And others wonder if having 80 of my relatives here for a picnic is a good thing or a bad thing.

I smile.

Usually the Family Picnic is the best day of the year.

***update***

The day didn't disappoint.



Although, as most of us huddled under canopies during a ten-minute rain shower, I asked my second-eldest aunt, 'Do you remember a time when a Family Picnic was rained out?'

Without even blinking, she replied. 'No never.'

Political Thinking: tax cuts and consumerism

During my ride into work, I tried to think about work. I really did. But my thoughts wandered into some political thinking.

The following topics need research, but I do not want to lose the theories. I think more and more about politics lately for some reason.

Several weeks ago, someone sent me an e-mail with a comparison of income and savings before and after the Bush tax cuts. The numbers were staggering.

I pay $10 to $15K USD in taxes a year. If Obama wins and repeals the tax cuts, I will end up paying more than $20K USD in taxes. That's huge.

So my thoughts wandered and I started assembling concepts while I drove to work.

I started with a pervasive thought from my good friend Derek. He talked to folks in the belly of capitalism in lower Manhattan who correlated television watching to our rampant consumerism. People now feel entitled to goods and services beyond their means by both advertising and the content of television programming.

(As an aside, the advice was 'kill your TV' and following suit, I haven't turned on my TV all summer. It's going well. Life is more clear and present, but I digress.)

My thinking branched into two concepts. The first concept was a question, really, on whether or not editors in Hollywood consider the consumerism value in programming.

The shows that I like never last long. In recent history, I loved 'Life With Bonnie' and 'Less than Perfect'. There wasn't much consumerism there. Blap. Cut. Off the air. But I marvel at the wide appeal that horrible shows like 'Desperate Housewives' have on the world. There is a ton of consumerism in that show, where people can fantasize and aspire to rise their hovels into the affluence on Wisteria lane.

The second concept is that from a practical point of view, if people are going to achieve the promise of consumerism, they need money. So I realized the tie between conservative economics and the liberal nature of programming.

It was almost as though someone drew up a covert, natural contract to the effect, 'Fine if the American people want to elevate their lifestyles above their natural ways and means, we'll put more money in their pockets to spend as they wish.' TAX CUT!

So up and down the socio-economic scale, people can get frilly coffee instead of drinking water. They can embellish their consumerism to lean upwards toward Wisteria lane.

But what happens when the tax cuts are repealed. Now we're stuck. We want to sustain our habits and buy frilly junk. But we can't. Because more money (in my case upwards of $8K USD) will go to the Federal government and only a tiny bit returns to me.

The Obama regime might retort and say, 'Oh, but we'll help you tired and poor by giving you Federal money.' And I can reply from the experience in all of my volunteer positions, 'Mr. Obama. I can't find people to volunteer to fog a mirror. I'd turn cartwheels if I could find a volunteer who could fill out a grant for your, I am sorry, ~my~ federal money.'

So I see a big trap. Do you?

Repeal the tax cuts and everyone has less money. And with less money, we're unable to fulfill the consumerism dream. So everyone feels repressed. Eventually, we will be repressed and despite the whole rebel yell for loss of freedoms in the Bush administration, we'll later have loss of economic freedom which means loss of our choice to aspire to the lifestyle set before us.

I much prefer to keep my money at my disposal to do as I see fit. If I pay $8K more in federal taxes, I doubt that I will have extra to give to local organizations and directly impact my local community.

That's what I care about the most.

All of this needs deeper research, but I didn't want to lose the theory so here it is.