I love Thanksgiving Day. Of course, I never had to do the cooking or watch my handiwork consumed in the space of twenty minutes. Nevertheless, there are some foods with which we stuff ourselves that are more comforting than others. Can you ever get too much mashed potatoes and gravy to be seriously uncomfortable? Naw! It can't happen! I hope all of you will have a really nice day.
While you're enjoying it, take a little serious time to quietly think about how fortunate you are. Try thinking a little outside the box for a change.
This past week, I went to Shirley Toncray's funeral. It was unique in that it was held at the Opera Theatre, a place she truly loved. Shirley's casket was in the orchestra pit, adorned and surrounded with perfectly lovely flowers. Favorite passages from the bible were read and a number of family members and friends eulogized Shirley, as emotionally difficult as it was. The recurring theme of each was laughter and fun.
As I listened, I thought about my first encounter with Shirley. You know, her daughter, Carla, was in and out of our house because of her friendship with my younger sister, Mary. I didn't pay too much attention then, as I was about twelve years older than they were and thought of them, primarily, as a bother. I don't know that I remember associating Carla with Shirley, even though they were mother and daughter. Anyway, I first met Shirley in the play Annie, staged in 1984. With her slightly gravelly voice, she played the part of Miss Hannigan, the matron of the orphanage from which Annie escaped. She, together with Greg Brock (as "Rooster," Miss Hannigan's con-artist brother) simply stole the show. They were both hysterically funny.
From that time forward, I really do believe that every time I saw Shirley, she was in the company of her best friend, Rose Leo; and every time I saw them, there was something to laugh about. I couldn't tell you a single subject that we talked about, but it was just always funny as it could be. The laughter was infectious, contagious and wonderful. Made no difference what sort of day you were having, troubles vanished for a moment, and if you were not careful, you would forget them, the troubles, that is, altogether. And so it can honestly be said that Shirley Toncray and Rose Leo were rays of sunshine wherever they went and into whose ever life they so joyously intruded.
While I stood there listening as the assemblage sang Amazing Grace, I thought to myself that if any hymn ever described a deceased person more aptly, I don't know what it could possibly be. Shirley Toncray and her pal Rose, left behind for awhile, were not only amazing, they were and are embued with a grace the likes of which few of us will ever achieve. They were the grace of laughter and fun and light heartedness; and of that grace, there is not nearly enough!
And so, for Thanksgiving, one of the things I will thank God for is my aquaintance with Shirley and Rose. They made my life so much better.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
A Cup of Coffee and a Look at the River
We have a lovely view from our kitchen window. It seems that it's almost different every day. This morning, there were thin grey clouds overhead, trimmed in gold by the sun. The river was ruffled by breezes near the surface and, when the sun is at the right angle, the water looks like a blanket of diamonds, shimmering and sparkling for all to see. As I sipped my coffee, I wondered to myself, "With a picture this perfect, how can this country be in such a damned mess?"
America has been on a binge of sorts. We have all spent more money than we should, and some have spent money they didn't have. The other day, I asked Jerry Rains how the lumber business was. He replied that it was better than you would think. He said that in the next two weeks, there were 5-6 new houses starting, all of which were over 5,000 square feet; one was 6,500 square feet. I said, "Jerry, how much does a house like that cost? He answered, "It doesn't make any difference. All they want to know is the amount of the payment." And the beat goes on!
The other morning after breakfast, I was washing dishes and reached in the drawer to get a dishrag. It happened that this dishrag was new and sewn into the cloth at the edge was a tag, much like you find inside of a shirt. It said Made in China. A dishrag! President Obama is in China right now, talking to the leaders of that government. Our most serious problem with them is their refusal to let their currency "float." I'm not sure I know what that means, but I do know that their failure to do so underprices their export products. This results in the their accumulation of unbelievable amounts of U.S. money because we buy so much of their cheap stuff.
They don't buy much of our stuff. They're smarter than we are, I think. They use their dollars to loan to the U. S. Government financing our deficit. They probably also loan their dollars to credit card issuing banks so we can all carry balances of $10,000 to $20,000. And so, what happens? All of sudden, our greedy Wall Street bankers get stung by sub-prime mortgages, those same bankers stop loaning money to Americans, and the economy goes into a tail spin and damn near fell off the table. All the while, China watches.
Before going to China, the President stopped in Japan where they have recently elected a new prime minister. He's decided Japan is better off cozying up to the Pacific nations for their trading partners. He also thinks Japan should refuse access to our Navy for refueling purposes. Wonder what he'll think when that nut in North Korea launches its missiles aimed at him. Where, oh where, is the U. S. Navy and the U. S. Air Force and all those soldiers who used to protect us?
Sometimes I think that the United States of America has been played for a fool. That war in Iraq was totally unnecessary and yet, we undertook it at a cost of over $300 billion a year for seven years. We're getting ready to do the same thing in Afghanistan, and who's with us. Well, the Brits always try to help; there are a few Germans over there, but very few. We have a standing army in Germany to protect Germany which costs a fortune. We have a standing army in Korea to protect South Korea, another fortune. And Germany and Korea are two of the most prosperous nations on earth, after the U.S. and, now, China. We maintain a Navy and an Air Force the likes of which has never before been seen on this planet, mostly for the purpose of defending foreign nations.
One day soon, maybe the President should walk out of his office and announce to the world that we have some serious problems here at home which need our undivided attention; that we are recalling our armed forces from around the world; that we are imposing import tarriffs on all goods, except raw materials, imported into this country, using the revenue to pay off our debt; and finally, that we will again enter the manufacturing economy and start making what we need for ourselves. Maybe we'll get back in the game we have played someday, but right now, it's about us. We should remind the powers of the world that we will maintain sufficient military strength to obliterate any nation committing agression toward us, but the rest of the world will have to look after itself. Be really interesting to see what would happen! Lots of weeping and wailing and gnashing to teeth.
I know it won't happen, but it feels good saying it!
America has been on a binge of sorts. We have all spent more money than we should, and some have spent money they didn't have. The other day, I asked Jerry Rains how the lumber business was. He replied that it was better than you would think. He said that in the next two weeks, there were 5-6 new houses starting, all of which were over 5,000 square feet; one was 6,500 square feet. I said, "Jerry, how much does a house like that cost? He answered, "It doesn't make any difference. All they want to know is the amount of the payment." And the beat goes on!
The other morning after breakfast, I was washing dishes and reached in the drawer to get a dishrag. It happened that this dishrag was new and sewn into the cloth at the edge was a tag, much like you find inside of a shirt. It said Made in China. A dishrag! President Obama is in China right now, talking to the leaders of that government. Our most serious problem with them is their refusal to let their currency "float." I'm not sure I know what that means, but I do know that their failure to do so underprices their export products. This results in the their accumulation of unbelievable amounts of U.S. money because we buy so much of their cheap stuff.
They don't buy much of our stuff. They're smarter than we are, I think. They use their dollars to loan to the U. S. Government financing our deficit. They probably also loan their dollars to credit card issuing banks so we can all carry balances of $10,000 to $20,000. And so, what happens? All of sudden, our greedy Wall Street bankers get stung by sub-prime mortgages, those same bankers stop loaning money to Americans, and the economy goes into a tail spin and damn near fell off the table. All the while, China watches.
Before going to China, the President stopped in Japan where they have recently elected a new prime minister. He's decided Japan is better off cozying up to the Pacific nations for their trading partners. He also thinks Japan should refuse access to our Navy for refueling purposes. Wonder what he'll think when that nut in North Korea launches its missiles aimed at him. Where, oh where, is the U. S. Navy and the U. S. Air Force and all those soldiers who used to protect us?
Sometimes I think that the United States of America has been played for a fool. That war in Iraq was totally unnecessary and yet, we undertook it at a cost of over $300 billion a year for seven years. We're getting ready to do the same thing in Afghanistan, and who's with us. Well, the Brits always try to help; there are a few Germans over there, but very few. We have a standing army in Germany to protect Germany which costs a fortune. We have a standing army in Korea to protect South Korea, another fortune. And Germany and Korea are two of the most prosperous nations on earth, after the U.S. and, now, China. We maintain a Navy and an Air Force the likes of which has never before been seen on this planet, mostly for the purpose of defending foreign nations.
One day soon, maybe the President should walk out of his office and announce to the world that we have some serious problems here at home which need our undivided attention; that we are recalling our armed forces from around the world; that we are imposing import tarriffs on all goods, except raw materials, imported into this country, using the revenue to pay off our debt; and finally, that we will again enter the manufacturing economy and start making what we need for ourselves. Maybe we'll get back in the game we have played someday, but right now, it's about us. We should remind the powers of the world that we will maintain sufficient military strength to obliterate any nation committing agression toward us, but the rest of the world will have to look after itself. Be really interesting to see what would happen! Lots of weeping and wailing and gnashing to teeth.
I know it won't happen, but it feels good saying it!
Monday, November 9, 2009
The Passing of Time.
It frankly always amazes me when I think of my age. It's trite, I know, but I don't know where the years have flown. For many of them, I was having a very good time; but now the sun is moving toward the low gradient and, like it or not, it comes with the territory.
I really was not cocky in high school, though I achieved a measure of success there. My grades were not as good as those of some of my friends, but they were good enough to get me admitted to a good college. At college, I got along reasonably well, except for French, which I thought would be my undoing. I know there is nothing wrong with the French, except that it takes a really exceptional foreigner to understand their language. It all sounds (or did to me) like thick pudding, lacking definition completely. God bless the professor, who understood that I tried, but knew me (and announced to the class one day) to be one of the dumbest students she ever taught. Despite her and the subject matter, I was on the Dean's list every semester after I finally slipped ignominiously from French II with a C ( and that was a gift!!).
Law school was anguish. Rarely did I understand what they were talking about, which meant that I was a lost soul. Any professor at the University of Virginia who failed to answer a question with anything other than another question was taken up to Monticello and hanged that very afternoon. The whole time, not one explanation of anything other than a question, much harder than any of us ever asked. So, as the admission's risk of "63, I finally emerged in very average status in the spring of 1966, a graduate lawyer.
Viet Nam was boiling and deferments for graduate school put you at the front of the draft line. Nothing to do but join the Navy. Well, training for fat boys was anything but fun. Sweating profusely through Officer Candidate School, freezing on the parade ground every Saturday while the wind whipped in from Naragannsett Bay in Rhode Island, and in general finding the training much to my total dislike, somehow I managed to slither out of there at the end of December, on my way to a new naval communications station in Okinawa. Okinawa?? Where the hell is Okinawa? For those of you who don't know, it's one half the way around the whole world and just a little south of Japan. It took me two weeks to get over jet lag, though I should tell you that I didn't fly over on a jet. It was an airplane, in 1967, that had been used to haul coal in the Berlin Airlift in 1948. Propellor driven, it took thirty six hours to cross the Pacific Ocean; and no one met me at the terminal.
I'm not going into all this stuff about my naval career. Suffice it to say that I learned things that I never would have dreamed of in all the schooling I had endured. And so, I returned to Maysville to begin my real career in the practice of law.
The lawyers of the local bar association met sporadically each year when there was something to discuss. At the beginning, there were about 14 or 15 of us. Chuck Kirk, Jim Clarke, Bob Gallenstein, Bernard Hargett, Bill Sewell and I were the youngest of the bunch. Most of us were under 30. At the bar meetings, the topic of conversation varied from heavy to lite, and so some of us younger members occasionally thought we could contribute. Thus, every now and again, we would make a comment. The older people, Gene Royse, John Clarke and Andrew Fox would turn and look with complete disdain at the poor young sap who deigned to speak out. That's really not fair: They were not rude, but neither were they too interested in our thoughts on the subject of conversation either.
Time passed, and our status did not improve much. Our views were generally ignored, although we didn't stop speaking up when the spirit moved us. And then, all of a sudden, when we got to be about 40, the bar members seemed to pay more attention to what we said. There were some younger members by that time, who were, as were we at their age, ignored when they tried to contribute. Nevertheless, forty seemed to be the magic number. The group seemed to instinctively feel that people 40 years of age or more were worth listening to; and from that time on, our voices were heard in the Maysville councils of the law.
As time went by, what we said in those meeting commanded more and more respect. Where disagreements arose, it was the "middle age" people who carried the day, often at the expense of some of the more senior members, believe it or not. Well, time did go by, and all of a sudden, those of us who survived arrived at the age of 60. Some of us were even a couple of years older. And as we looked about the table, we noticed our total numbers had swelled from 14 to 25 and 30. And, more to the point, it was the 40 and 45 year olds who held sway in the discussions. The wisdom of the old (if there was any) was outshone by the pragmatists in their early to middle forties and fifties. How the hell did this happen? We used to make reasonably good sense in what we said, and, I thought, we still did. But the group wasn't buying our packages. There was a new day. It was frustrating, and I can honestly say that I didn't really comprehend what was happening at first.
When I was 62, I ran for judge and was on the bench for four years. I wanted to stay, but was defeated for re-election and was bitterly disappointed. When you're in the middle of something like that (or, really, any personal defeat in life), you don't understand much about what happened to you, because you're too personally involved. I shall never forget asking my friend, Scotty Hilterbrand, what he thought about the outcome of the election. He said, "Judge, I'll tell you, people between the age of 40 and 60 run the world."
When the election smoke cleared, and it took a while, I realized he was right. As a matter of fact, it was one of the most astute observations I ever heard. It's not, of course, true for everybody, but for the vast majority, it tells the story unequivocably.
And so, I have accepted the fact that younger people are now in charge. They will make the decisions; they will call the shots. And it is as it should be. For we have had our turn. We hope we did our best, and, there is some evidence that a lot of what we did was first rate; on the other hand, a lot of it was pretty damn sorry.
Post Scriptum. People our age, 65-75, tend to think the world has gone to hell in a handbasket. I recall, when I was middle-aged, Milton I. "Shorty" Tolle and A. J. Toncray would meet almost every morning for breakfast at Jim's Donut Shop. I don't know how old they were at the time, but they were at that stage in life where the current generation was running the world into the ground and ruining all that they and their generation had worked for. Listening to them would color your day the darkest of gray, if not black. The military wasn't worth a damn any more; Americans had forgotten how to work! Government existed to feed, clothe and money people who wouldn't take care of themselves. And it taxed people like Shorty and A.J. to do it. The City couldn't do anything right; and nobody went to church anymore. The country was wobbling next to an abyss, the bottom of which was no where in sight.
That's old men for you. 180 degrees out from the optimism and energy they both enjoyed in their twenties.
I don't know where in the Bible it talks about old men shall dream dreams and young men shall see visions; nor do I know what it takes to accomplish that, but wouldn't it be nice?
I really was not cocky in high school, though I achieved a measure of success there. My grades were not as good as those of some of my friends, but they were good enough to get me admitted to a good college. At college, I got along reasonably well, except for French, which I thought would be my undoing. I know there is nothing wrong with the French, except that it takes a really exceptional foreigner to understand their language. It all sounds (or did to me) like thick pudding, lacking definition completely. God bless the professor, who understood that I tried, but knew me (and announced to the class one day) to be one of the dumbest students she ever taught. Despite her and the subject matter, I was on the Dean's list every semester after I finally slipped ignominiously from French II with a C ( and that was a gift!!).
Law school was anguish. Rarely did I understand what they were talking about, which meant that I was a lost soul. Any professor at the University of Virginia who failed to answer a question with anything other than another question was taken up to Monticello and hanged that very afternoon. The whole time, not one explanation of anything other than a question, much harder than any of us ever asked. So, as the admission's risk of "63, I finally emerged in very average status in the spring of 1966, a graduate lawyer.
Viet Nam was boiling and deferments for graduate school put you at the front of the draft line. Nothing to do but join the Navy. Well, training for fat boys was anything but fun. Sweating profusely through Officer Candidate School, freezing on the parade ground every Saturday while the wind whipped in from Naragannsett Bay in Rhode Island, and in general finding the training much to my total dislike, somehow I managed to slither out of there at the end of December, on my way to a new naval communications station in Okinawa. Okinawa?? Where the hell is Okinawa? For those of you who don't know, it's one half the way around the whole world and just a little south of Japan. It took me two weeks to get over jet lag, though I should tell you that I didn't fly over on a jet. It was an airplane, in 1967, that had been used to haul coal in the Berlin Airlift in 1948. Propellor driven, it took thirty six hours to cross the Pacific Ocean; and no one met me at the terminal.
I'm not going into all this stuff about my naval career. Suffice it to say that I learned things that I never would have dreamed of in all the schooling I had endured. And so, I returned to Maysville to begin my real career in the practice of law.
The lawyers of the local bar association met sporadically each year when there was something to discuss. At the beginning, there were about 14 or 15 of us. Chuck Kirk, Jim Clarke, Bob Gallenstein, Bernard Hargett, Bill Sewell and I were the youngest of the bunch. Most of us were under 30. At the bar meetings, the topic of conversation varied from heavy to lite, and so some of us younger members occasionally thought we could contribute. Thus, every now and again, we would make a comment. The older people, Gene Royse, John Clarke and Andrew Fox would turn and look with complete disdain at the poor young sap who deigned to speak out. That's really not fair: They were not rude, but neither were they too interested in our thoughts on the subject of conversation either.
Time passed, and our status did not improve much. Our views were generally ignored, although we didn't stop speaking up when the spirit moved us. And then, all of a sudden, when we got to be about 40, the bar members seemed to pay more attention to what we said. There were some younger members by that time, who were, as were we at their age, ignored when they tried to contribute. Nevertheless, forty seemed to be the magic number. The group seemed to instinctively feel that people 40 years of age or more were worth listening to; and from that time on, our voices were heard in the Maysville councils of the law.
As time went by, what we said in those meeting commanded more and more respect. Where disagreements arose, it was the "middle age" people who carried the day, often at the expense of some of the more senior members, believe it or not. Well, time did go by, and all of a sudden, those of us who survived arrived at the age of 60. Some of us were even a couple of years older. And as we looked about the table, we noticed our total numbers had swelled from 14 to 25 and 30. And, more to the point, it was the 40 and 45 year olds who held sway in the discussions. The wisdom of the old (if there was any) was outshone by the pragmatists in their early to middle forties and fifties. How the hell did this happen? We used to make reasonably good sense in what we said, and, I thought, we still did. But the group wasn't buying our packages. There was a new day. It was frustrating, and I can honestly say that I didn't really comprehend what was happening at first.
When I was 62, I ran for judge and was on the bench for four years. I wanted to stay, but was defeated for re-election and was bitterly disappointed. When you're in the middle of something like that (or, really, any personal defeat in life), you don't understand much about what happened to you, because you're too personally involved. I shall never forget asking my friend, Scotty Hilterbrand, what he thought about the outcome of the election. He said, "Judge, I'll tell you, people between the age of 40 and 60 run the world."
When the election smoke cleared, and it took a while, I realized he was right. As a matter of fact, it was one of the most astute observations I ever heard. It's not, of course, true for everybody, but for the vast majority, it tells the story unequivocably.
And so, I have accepted the fact that younger people are now in charge. They will make the decisions; they will call the shots. And it is as it should be. For we have had our turn. We hope we did our best, and, there is some evidence that a lot of what we did was first rate; on the other hand, a lot of it was pretty damn sorry.
Post Scriptum. People our age, 65-75, tend to think the world has gone to hell in a handbasket. I recall, when I was middle-aged, Milton I. "Shorty" Tolle and A. J. Toncray would meet almost every morning for breakfast at Jim's Donut Shop. I don't know how old they were at the time, but they were at that stage in life where the current generation was running the world into the ground and ruining all that they and their generation had worked for. Listening to them would color your day the darkest of gray, if not black. The military wasn't worth a damn any more; Americans had forgotten how to work! Government existed to feed, clothe and money people who wouldn't take care of themselves. And it taxed people like Shorty and A.J. to do it. The City couldn't do anything right; and nobody went to church anymore. The country was wobbling next to an abyss, the bottom of which was no where in sight.
That's old men for you. 180 degrees out from the optimism and energy they both enjoyed in their twenties.
I don't know where in the Bible it talks about old men shall dream dreams and young men shall see visions; nor do I know what it takes to accomplish that, but wouldn't it be nice?
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