The Choice of Poison Teas

As it comes to this, I search for phrases that reflect the madness that prevails. A "Hobson's choice" is one in which only 1 option is given, and one must either embrace it, or receive nothing at all. "Sophie's choice" mandates a decision between 2 unbearable options. Among its equivalents are "unacceptable", "excruciating" and "intolerable".

Whether Hobson or Sophie ultimately matters little. We have been left with a decision whether to allow the debt ceiling to remain where it is and watch as our economy and the larger universe implodes, or decimate our future by agreeing to draconian cuts that will leave us unable to extricate ourselves from an inevitable march into depression.

I think that this one deserves it own phrase, something to reflect political mayhem at its worst: "the choice of poison teas".

Kenwood

As I start this entry, I am sitting in northern California as another perfect day dawns. Shortly the sun will begin a repeat performance of yesterday and the day before. The wild turkey family will march in line along the long expanse of the driveway. before disappearing into the hills.The deer will stop and stare as you come too near for their comfort. The horses will graze in the pasture and wait for the carrot that accompanies my wife's arrival. Across the road, the bull will wait by the fence, ignoring you even as you move nearer.

Jo and I will go for our morning walk, moving about in East Coast time, while the rest of this universe, on a different clock, is still asleep. On our earliest of trips out here, we journeyed into the nearby hills of the state park, where we sometimes moved to the side of its narrow path to let horse and rider pass.

Sadly, as I walk through the stables, I see just nameplates of some who became our friends through the years. The stalls are empty, or house unfamilar guests. By mid-morning, a large horse, a temporary occupant trying to recover from a leg injury, is being moved to a rehab facility. We watch as the owner engages in a prolonged dance to coax her horse into the waiting trailer. Like a hesitant child, it requires promises of treats and soothing words before tentative steps are taken and the goal is accomplished.

A few years earlier, on virtually the same ground, we witnessed the unforgettable sight of a deer in mortal distress being put down, its hind quarters almost fully eaten away by what must have been a mountain lion's attack.

Nearby, I hear the gentle cooing of the doves who are housed in their own quarters. They are but an afterthought here.

In the meadow, I spot the cat, resting and quiet. It is a member of the household, but we rarely cross paths, as it prefers to spend its days in more interesting pursuits than interacting with me.

But always the most important are the dogs. I have had my favorites, but now there is one who has captured my heart. Yogi is an all star, chasing down frisbees and balls as easily as DiMaggio roamed centerfield. He is relentless, and relentlessly happy.

It is now late afternoon, as this piece has been composed in little bursts. From where I sit, the only sound I hear is the humming of this computer. No noise of humanity, no passing car, no honking horn, no ringing phone or overheated discussion: nothing pierces the quiet.

It is summer and this is our annual pilgrimage to a very different reality.

Meeting In the Middle of Truth and Fiction

("The Centrist Cop Out")

When the goal becomes to meet in the middle of real and ridiculous, you get the conversations this Congress has been engaged in over the past months. When statistical falsehoods are elevated to equal standing with proven truths about economic realities in a deep recession, you get a willingness on both sides to take trillions of dollars out of an economy which is begging for an infusion of funds.

We have long ago stopped being centrist in the debt ceiling debate, and in our political climate. The Democrats and the President have somehow allowed the false equivalent to become the law of the land, and in doing so have ceded not only the left, but the center to the Republicans. We now wait only to see how far to the right we land.

Frankenstein's Monster

"Congress in the Lead" does present one truth in the midst of all its fiction: President Obama did break no new ground in his seminar, I mean speech, to the nation on Monday night. But for Mr. Brooks to point an accusing finger at the president for "losing his cool" after Mr. Boehner took his toys and left the room on Friday, or for precipitating this crisis for failing to be forthcoming with specifics of the negotiations in real time, is ludicrous.

The Republicans have fashioned a monster of their own choosing by artificially selecting a procedural step of ratifying our pre-existing obligations as a substantive line in the sand. This never had to be, and never was in the past anything but pro-forma acceptance of an already established reality. Once they had manufactured their Frankenstein-like vision, the most right wing of the right wing took control of the message and pushed this discussion far away from the real dilemma of lost jobs, mortgage foreclosures and massive disproportionate wealth in this country. The Tea Party creation of a debt "crisis" became its own reality.

And now, as they have brought this country and this President to the brink, Mr. Brooks finds the fault lies not with this party who contemplates and threatens us with the unthinkable. Rather, he criticizes the President for both not being forthcoming and then being forthcoming.

If Mr. Brooks believes that Congress is in the lead on this matter, he is badly mistaken. The sad truth is that no one is in control of this monster. We are all, sick, tired and scared of where this Republican debacle may lead. Sorry, Mr. Brooks if the president is a little testy. Get over it.

A Better Universe

("Make Way for the Radical Center")

I get that we are all feeling disenfranchised and disenchanted. I understand that our voices and our votes seem drowned out in a tidal wave of partisan politics. I too envision a better way and a better tomorrow if only we controlled the dialogue. But don't spend your time until November, 2012 on some illusion. This is not some fantasy baseball or football league we can maneuver and manipulate.

Look, I am as frustrated as anyone. But, this image of a third party shaping our future, no matter how well intentioned is not going to happen. Is Teddy Roosevelt out there to lead the charge of this brigade of independents? Work on fixing what is broken rather than spending your days dreaming of a reality that will not occur, no matter how many fantasy votes you get on the internet. Let's not waste time contemplating a "dream team". We are not in the middle of a dream but an all too stark reality that must be addressed with real solutions.

If you want to spend your hours in a productive fashion, work on changing how government works. Demand that we eradicate, or diminish the impact of the filibuster and let majority rule have the meaning for which it was intended. Raise your dollars to make certain that procedural ploys, like refusing to authorize payment of debts which we have already incurred, have no place in our future. If you want to effectuate change, make certain that change can be effectuated. The hard and ugly truth is that good ideas die in process, and bad ideas are all we are left with. Government is dysfunctional because it has been manipulated into submission.

Change your vision and focus not on some alternate universe, but on a better one.

A Pact with the Devil

What Mr. Brooks refers to as the "Grand" Bargain looks to me more like a Faustian one. If the reports out of Washington are accurate, the President is willing to make a deal that will consign this nation to years of economic stagnation and surrender the heart and soul of what had made his party great. From the perspective of Mr. Brooks this may seem the right way to do business, but from my vantage point, avoiding threatened disaster is not the same as achieving success, and selling your soul to the devil for the illusion of compromise is no way to run a country.

For Better and Sometimes Worse

The call made me want to drop whatever was on my schedule and rush to my daughter's side. No, there was nothing of any real consequence going on that would mandate my presence. She was just grousing about a long and difficult commute to work. She was frazzled, a little late, and a little unhappy. It was nothing that a deep breath, and a few moments of reflection would not cure. But for me, and all my over-the-top instincts, it was a 4 alarm fire.

I have never been able to moderate my "over-protective" gene. It serves neither me well, nor those who are the subject and object of my concern. I have been fortunate to choose a life partner who shares none of this nonsense. I am given the "get a grip" lecture in its various incarnations, on a regular basis. But, it doesn't help.

I know my children avoid mentioning anything relating to difficult moments in their lives to me. "Put Mom on the phone" is as much information as I get. I then must stand anxiously in the wings, trying to read my wife's inflections and her words to try to comprehend the depth and scope of the problem. I am just "Dad being Dad" and am the absolute wrong answer to the question of who is in charge of giving perspective and space to any issue.

That being said, being sympathetic, or empathetic, as the situation dictates, is not a curse, but a blessing. I believe it is one of my strongest and best qualities that I genuinely feel for the plight of my fellow man and try to look at each situation from the perspective of the aggrieved.

However, with the rest of humanity, there is a distance that separates. I can feel for them, but I am not in their face and running over to wipe their collective noses. The masses can live their lives with a vague comprehension that there is someone out there who cares. On the other hand, my family must contend with the constant droning of a voice needing reassurance that everything is "ok".

Sometimes, I see my wife and son cut conversations short when I enter the room. This is the signal that there is some "calamity" from which I am being excluded. It is as though they are shaking their heads as they contemplate me, and my imagination, creating enormous mountains out of molehills.

I share an extraordinary closeness with my children. We find many admirable qualities in each other and understand the depth of the love that exists between us. Yet, I know that I am the last person they need to be in touch with when the train has not come on time, or the cough is lasting into the 3rd day, or it is too hot, or too cold, or too dark or too light. I am for better, or for worse, who I am. And while it is often for the better, sometimes, I know, it is not.

Contemplating Our Own Foreclosure

"Signs of Intelligent Life In Congress"

As this editorial applauds even the hint of rational thought emanating from the Republican party, I am left to wonder what message would permeate and mandate a universal cry for decisive action to stave off __________ ( the blank is for whatever descriptive word you wish to insert, as all of the good ones have already been written a thousand times).

I fear that we have never been given the right analogy for what is about to occur. As the mantra, coming even from the President, is for us to get our "house in order", there has been a failure to impress upon the public that our country is contemplating default on one giant house mortgage and facing imminent foreclosure. Those who lend to us based on "full faith and credit" in our good faith and creditworthiness will be looking at a nation lacking credibility. Like the millions now who worry and wonder what went wrong as they desperately try to stay in their homes and practically beg for solutions, come August 3, we will be but another of those beggars. We will have to pay a very steep price if we want to keep a roof over our heads.

I believe that too many erroneously consider our decision merely whether we will continue what they perceive as conspicuous unnecessary consumption. This battle is not over whether we should buy that fancy sports car we can no longer afford. Rather, it is whether we voluntarily want to join the uncomfortable ranks of those who have defaulted on their most basic of obligations and face a most uncertain and unhappy future.

A World of Absolutes

"Signing Away the Right to Govern"

Grover Norquist, with pledge in hand, has been around for over a quarter of a century. It is not that pledge itself, or the many others referenced in your editorial, that threaten the fabric of our government. It is the people who now attach themselves to this rhetoric that is the root cause of the conflagration of the Constitution.

They came to power in 2010 not from the strength of their collective intellect but from a collective unhappiness of a portion of the population who saw their lives still upended, 2 years into the Obama administration, by Bush era mistakes with unfunded wars, tax cuts for the wealthy, rampant deregulation and pharmaceutical company handouts. But these freshmen Republican Congressmen came armed not with a passion and a calling to fix what was wrong, for in doing so they would necessarily be denouncing their own errors. Instead they would hide the mistakes of their predecessor by changing the message of what was ailing America.

And so, the Tea Party extremists, who could win elections but had no concept of how to govern, now attempted to create policy. Since there was nothing of substance to support their positions, they latched on to pledges and mandates. It is a world of absolutes, where logic and oaths of office have no place. And thus, we have been introduced to a universe of 'never' and 'no'. And the American people and the Constitution suffer at the hands of those who have neither the aptitude or the will to do the hard job of governing.

Richie

THIS PIECE IS SCHEDULED TO APPEAR IN ONE OF THE "CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE SOUL BOOKS" IN THE SPRING OF 2012

Empty nesters. The baby boomers, alone at last. But along the way, somehow empty and alone did not happen for my wife and myself. And in many ways, though there is sadness attached to this alternate reality, there is something good that has emerged.

While I read, from the point of view of recent college graduates ("Growing Up, Then Going Home) of what it means to be back under the watchful eye of your parents, let me tell you the story from my perspective.

My son is now 30 and he is brilliant. There is no smaller way of describing his intellectual capabilities. At 2, he could pick up a record (yes, a record) find the cut on the album that he enjoyed (yes, a cut) and put the needle to the appropriate sound. At 6, he was teaching 10 year olds in his elementary school about the latest on the computer. He wrote music and words for a song for his 5th grade play. He graduated at the top of his class (well, almost), had an outstanding academic career at Dartmouth and was a star in his graduate program in public policy at Berkeley.

And he has spent the last 5 years, from the moment he called to say he was too sick to finish the last term of his studies and took a plane home, in the bedroom down the hall from myself and my wife.

This is not easy to write about and it makes me feel a bit irritated with those young graduates who good naturedly grouse about the difficulties they have in finding a world not ready, willing or able to accept them. But this is not about responding to them nor about pitying myself or my son. This is rather about the benefit that has come from his unexpected return.

You see, empty and alone connotes that there is something missing. And what my son, in his mid-20's and in his diminished physical state brought back into our lives, was an intellectual curiosity and questioning. Events of the world that seemed to swirl around my life without focus, suddenly started to have meaning. Here was a young man, with all his passion for those who have been trampled in the rush of the few and the privileged to reach the top of the food pyramid. Here was my son, making me turn my attention to all that was wrong in so many arenas. Here was this young mind challenging me to take issue with a world that had lost its compass. For you see, my son brought to me the gift of compelling me to think.

As my intellectual horizons broadened upon my son's insistence, I found that I took a real interest in exploring parts of our universe, and my own mind, that had long been ignored. The sports pages no longer were the only focus. Soon the news and opinion pages took center stage. My discussions with my son, while often still about the Yankees, more and more centered on matters that mattered in more fundamental ways. And I began to write about my reactions to the world around me.

Now I write almost every day. It is a role that I could never have fathomed and never would have taken on had illness not forced a return of my son to a nest he wanted nothing more than to abandon. And while he acts as my in-house editor, and responds with the most gentle of criticism to my less stellar efforts, my son's "this one is good, this is very good" is for me the sweetest of all sounds.

There is much more bad than good in watching a son turn 30 under your watchful eye, in a bedroom intended for many things other than his permanent occupation. He can and should be spending the incredible gifts he was given on a world that could sorely use his skills and his passion. I know that each day he hopes and waits to feel the pain disappear, the strength returning to his muscles and the weight, that so mysteriously and dramatically dropped, to as mysteriously and dramatically return. And maybe tomorrow will be that day. And there will be no happier moment for his mom and me, then waving goodbye as he begins a life that has been placed on hold.

But, if and when he does leave, it will be a sad time also. For I have grown to be a more complete and mature person because of his presence. I have discovered things about myself which make each day of my life more full and more interesting. So while I curse the fates that have been unkind to my son, I also thank them. I wish nothing more for my son than good health and a productive life, but I will be forever grateful for his unexpected return that made an empty nest much fuller.