three f's

Fall, football, and fan. Those three f's sum up what's best about this time of year. I am an unabashed fan of football, both the college variety and the pro game. I've never played the game other than some intramural flag or touch games back in the day. I wouldn't know how to put those shoulder pads on and likely would have trouble getting the helmet turned the right way before putting it on. But that lack of experience in the physical aspects of the game hardly diminishes my emotional and intellectual connection and enjoyment of all things football. The fact that all those wonderfully exciting, and sometimes boring games, take place in the Fall of the year just adds another layer of sensory delight to what is a visually and emotionally a wondrous time of year.

The colors of Fall are always associated with the leaves turning their array of golds and reds. But I think of Fall colors not just in terms of trees and leaves, but also football uniforms and school colors. Is there anything more visually stimulating than a vast sea of red and white in the stadium at a UW football game? Or take any college football setting with the home school's colors flashing in the sunlight. Such a sight stirs a sense of pride, joy, excitiment at being a part of something bigger than ourselves. It's the sense of belonging to something more important than just a football game; being a part of a vast group of likeminded people joined together in a common activity that is the most imortant thing in our lives at that particular moment. The connectedness engendered by the sharing of the same colors of our sweatshirts and hats and jackets is a realization of our basic instinct to join together for a common cause, be it actual survival or just screaming our voices hoarse in support of our football team.

We had the experience of feeling that palpable onslaught of color this past Saturday when we attended the UW football homecoming game. The ride to Madison was awash with the usual signs of Fall: trees everywhere blasting forth with Godly slendor. Then, of course, the campus and its occupants added to the panorama of visual delight with red on red and red on white and more red on anything that moved or didn't move. Walking to the stadium after listening to the, yes, red clad UW marching band at Union South, was like floating on a red sea, the waves from which carried us forward and splashed us ashore at the gates of the stadium. Once inside, the torrents of red and white continued unabated for the rest of the afternoon. The players, the band, the fans in the stands all contributed their drops of red that together made up the red sea waving across the stadium. I did my part with my white and red hat, red jacket, red sweatshirt, and even (though I wasn't asked to prove it) my red longjohns (it was a cold day). By the end of the game, even the whites of my eyes were red with bloodshot veins caused by the cold and wind.

The darkening evening provided a welcome respite from the colorful day. But the sensory memory remains. Now whenever I see the color red, no matter the context, I will think of that red day we so enjoyed. As for the football game itself, the Badgers won. But somehow the game and the win seem incidental to the day, a mere subtext to the colorful bombardment. Being a football fan in the Fall has to be one of the most visceral delights available to us. Even if you are not a fan of football, you can't help being a fan of Fall.

Harriet Miers: mediocrity rears its ugly head

Harriet Miers? This is a joke, right? Ol "W" is pulling our leg isn't he? Surely he can't honestly believe that Harriet is suitable material for a position on the Supreme Court. But then again mediocrity attracts to mediocrity. It takes one to know one.

What beaurocratic cubbyhole did she stumble out of? What credentials, other than giddy hero worship, does she possess? "W" is so obviously rewarding a fawning worshiper for her sycophancy that we can only shake our heads in wonder at his brazen disregard for our collective intelligence. There have to be about a million Americans spread throughout the various levels of public service and private enterprise that are more qualified than she for the post he nominated her for. Her inability to answer substantive questions put to her by Senators and Congessmen in the early stages of her debut on the national stage hardly inspires confidence that she will be able to cogently assess and rule on issues that come before the Supreme Court. Even congressional Republicans are voicing hesitancy about her nomination and, after enjoying a relatively quick and easy confirmation of John Roberts, fear an embarassingly low vote in her confirmation hearings.

Why not just call the whole thing off. Chalk it up to a bad joke gone flat. George the Mediocre was just trying to see if we were paying attention. We were. So move on. Stop trying to pass off empty-headed nonentities as reasonable candidates for such an important position and give us someone we can respect. We may not all agree on the positions the nominee takes on the critical issues that face us, but at least give us someone who has a position and can defend it. Harriet, you can go back to writing fan letters to your hero. Just don't do it on official government stationery.

back in time

I had the opportunity the other evening to watch the PBS series, The American Experience. That particular presentation was about the Vietnam war and the correllating response to it at the University of Wisconsin in 1967. Having been a student at the UW at that time, my reaction to the pictures and commentary was very visceral. Reliving the anguish, fear, and yes, the excitement of that time was psychically wrenching.

At the time I was basically apolitical, as were the majority of the student population. The Vietnam war was still in its infancy as far as awareness of the political consequences and the questioning of its justification. As stated in the program, the protest against the Dow Chemical Co. recruiting visit to campus started out as a minor affair attended by only a few concerned students waving placards and chanting slogans. It was only when the sit-in at Commerce Hall became a confllict between students and Madison police that awareness of the protest became widespread. At the time I knew nothing about it. I was insulated in the art department concerned only with my personal development as an artist and tending to the usual student anxieties. But after seeing the news reports (which were decidedly one-sided, and not the students' side), my awareness of the new politcal atmoshere on campus became much more pronounced. Still, I was not an active participant in any of the coming protests against the war. I was an observer. I still had too many questiions about what my country was doing in Southeast Asia and whether that activity deserved my support.

What did upset me at the time was the violence of that Dow protest when the police, for whatever their reasons, began beating students with their nightsticks causing bloodshed and real injury to the recipients of that pummeling. The violence seemed so unnecessary. Such an over-the-top reaction to what was basically a peacefull student passive sit-in in the spirit of the civil rights movement protests. The city police were reacting to what they considered un-american activity by a group of eastern effete rabble rousers bent on turning the country into a communist satelite. It was easy to see even then the coming polarization of the political scene in Madison with the liberal student population on one side and the blue collar conservative city on the other.

As the war news over the next few months grew more grim with each day, I had no choice but to examine closely my attitude toward the political maelstrom swirling around campus. For the first time I seriously questioned why the US was waging war in a far off part of the world that seemed to have no real relevance to anything I could think of. The death toll announced in each news broadcast only created a greater feeling of dread, a feeling that everything had gone terribly wrong. And I'm not talking just about US soldiers who were dying, but also the unimaginable suffering of the Vietnamese people caught in the horrors of war. Maybe the protesters on the UW campus and around the country were on to something.

Becoming politically and socially aware was a painful process for me. I was a good Catholic choir boy and former seminarian who always assumed that those in power knew what they were doing and what they were doing was, by default, the best for the country. Before this awakening I never questioned the political motivations of those in power, presuming that they always had only the best intentions for the country and thus for me. Obviously, that presumption was shaken loose from my simple-minded insular existence by the increasingly frequent and more violent protests going on around me. I reached a point where I had to take sides.

Admittedly, many of the so-called protesters were simply following the mob and blowing off steam. There was a "coolness" factor involved with running through the streets and campus hurling both epithets and objects at the riot geared police. But many in the "peace movement" were genuinely sincere and dedicated to changing the way our government conducted its business. In their way they were as patriotic as any hardened combat veteran. As sympathetic as I was to the duty performed by our soldiers in Vietnam, the more I thought about it the more I realized that they should not be performing that duty. The US had no justification for invading another country that I could discern. The political rhetoric spewing from Washington made no sense to me. Peace seemed like a much better idea for all concerned. The wasting of precious lives, both military and civilian, seemed all the more horrible for its lack of real purpose. Some wars throughout human history were justifiable and even righteous and the human suffering that occurred was still horrible, but seen as necessary to rid the world of whatever scourge was plagueing it at the time. That was not the case with Vietnam. I came squarely down on the side of peace.

That's not to say I became an active protester on the front lines of the movement. But my whole system of beliefs had been shaken and rearranged. I was from that point on a different person. My whole outlook on life was changed. A distrust of government and authority became the centerpiece of my social attitude. Where before I simply accepted whatever the government put out there, now I accepted nothing without questioning the motives behind it. I became, and still am, a hardened sceptic. I still fight the cynicism today that took root in those days of war protests. Now, today, nearly forty years after my first brush with political activism, with anti-government protests, with anti-war protests, I am the man I am because of those memorable times. Like the rest of my generation, I was formed by the turbulent 60's when I came of age and will forever be defined by that era.

hell in a handbasket

Hurricanes in the Gulf, mudslides in Guetemala, earthquake in Pakistan. Millions of people affected either directly or indirectly. Tens of thousands dead. Relief efforts inadequate or delayed. People fighting over food and water. Finger pointing trying to ascribe blame to someone, anyone. Looting, shooting, people behaving badly. The world does seem to be going to hell in a handbasket.

What's to blame for all these recent catastrophes? Global warming? A capricious God toying with His creation? A vengeful Mother Nature punishing us for misusing her wonderful resources? The logical result of overpopulation, raping the land we live on, failing to renew the resources we use? The ever widening hole in the ozone layer? Maybe aliens from some far off galaxy are here among us, fucking with us before destroying us. I don't know. But I don't like what's happening. I may not live long enough to see the final results of all this mayhem, but my children and their children will suffer the increasing consequences of our folly.

What do we do to possibly avoid future devistation like we've seen over the past month? I have a lot of questiions, but no good answers. Maybe we could avoid rebuilding a city below sea level. Whose idea was that anyway? And why would people follow the idiot who posed the idea in the first place? Maybe we could inform the population that is settled on a fault line that a deadly earthquake is inevitable and maybe they should consider relocating to safer ground. Are you listening California? Will common sense ever pevail when civilizations settle in their communities? See that big hill with all the dirt just waiting to turn to mud in the next rainy season? Maybe we should move our homes a little farther to the left or right to avoid all that coming mud. Instead of taking care of ourselves, picking our places to live sensibly, maybe we could just trust to whatever God we choose to take care of us. Yeh, that's worked before.

coming down

It's a beautiful Fall day, clear skies, bright sunshine, light breeze. A day to relish. A day meant for outdoor activity. The kind of day I would normally rejoice in. So why am I feeling so down? So lethargic? The only explanation I can think of is that I just completed a major project (for me) this past weekend and I am in the first stage of work withdrawal.
For the past month I have been heavily involved in a remodeling project at our lake cottage in central Wisconsin. My only responsibility was the interior finishing--doing the new woodwork around the new windows, drywalling the bedroom and additiion, creating and installing Cedar paneling on the walls and ceiling in the addition. Nothing earthshattering in difficulty for an experienced carpenter. All the major work was done by a contractor we hired. But still, my entire focus for the past few weeks has been solely confined to completing the interior work so that Mary could come back up there to enjoy it with me. Now that the job is done, I am at loose ends, not quite knowing where to apply my energy first.
For the duratiion of the remodeling project I lived alone at the cottage while Mary stayed here at home. She of course has to go to work everyday and being at the cottage would have involved a 125 mile commute each day. One way. No way. So we have lived apart for awhile. I did manage to come home on the weekends, but that was also a harried time spent catching up on the home chores and doing laundry so that I could return with clean clothes that I could readily cover with sawdust again.
Not being here at home was a guilt trip as well. Even if Mary had not made such a big deal about having to cut the grass here as well as taking care of the usual inside upkeep, I would have felt equally as guilty for inflicting the extra work on her. Her complaints only exascerbated the situation. Now that I am here as normal there is a lot to do, but nothing urgent. So I languish. I dither. I procrastinate. And I wondeer why I feel so down on such a beautiful day.

a start

Perhaps it's a bit egotistical to assume anyone would want to read what I have to say, but I just can't help myself. I've often wondered what it would be like to have a public forum for my musings and comments on the state of the world and the state of me. If you get bored reading these upcoming comments, that's your problem, not mine. My only purpose is to provide you the opportunity to be either amused, intrigued, enraged, engaged, entertained, or bored with the whole thing. I'll do my best to arouse your interest and hopefully you'll feel compelled to reply and start a dialogue. But be assured, this is all about me and what I think about all of it. "It" being anything and everything that piques my interest or moves me to share what I consider important. If you happen to share my opinions and attitudes, great. If you don't, great. Either wy I got you to read what I have to say.
Most of what I will write here will be about the events, both big and small, that occur in my llife. I'll share my family with you. I'll share my friends with you. I'll share my enemies with you. Hopefully we can all learn from my life's lessons and avoid repeating mistakes however great or small. Hopefully we can all learn from my triumphs as well. I guess the whole purpose of this exercize is to realize that we are all pretty much involved with each other on various planes of experience. We just need to share those experiences more to arrive at our commonality. We truly are in this together. So let's get started.......