One hundred thousand souls

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President Obama's 2012 State of the Union Address - Full Text

My sound card is busted on my laptop and I don't get TV way out here on the eastern fringe of the Chihuahua Desert. So, I couldn't watch President Obama's State of the Union Address. I searched around for the full text - in pdf format so I could download it and print it out and read it in bed - but it was nowhere to be found.

So I created it myself to share with y'all and the world. I expect millions and millions of hits from people wanting to do the same - download/print/read/keep/reflect/ponder/comprehend/actively bear witness to effect change in the world versus passively listen/and begin to act with regard to their own governance...

Yeah right. Anyway, here ya go. Have at it. Nighty night.

The White House President Obama State of the Union Address 2012 Full Text PDF

Nature. Beauty. Gratitude. A Good Day.

Best wishes to you and yours...love and light...Alex

A Christmas Message from America's Rich - Matt Taibi | Rolling Stone

Cross-posted From Matt Taibi / TAIBBLOG / ROLLING STONE. Original article here.

It seems America’s bankers are tired of all the abuse. They’ve decided to speak out.

True, they’re doing it from behind the ropeline, in front of friendly crowds at industry conferences and country clubs, meaning they don’t have to look the rest of America in the eye when they call us all imbeciles and complain that they shouldn’t have to apologize for being so successful.

But while they haven’t yet deigned to talk to protesting America face to face, they are willing to scribble out some complaints on notes and send them downstairs on silver trays. Courtesy of a remarkable story by Max Abelson at Bloomberg, we now get to hear some of those choice comments.

Home Depot co-founder Bernard Marcus, for instance, is not worried about OWS:

“Who gives a crap about some imbecile?” Marcus said. “Are you kidding me?”

Former New York gurbernatorial candidate Tom Golisano, the billionaire owner of the billing firm Paychex, offered his wisdom while his half-his-age tennis champion girlfriend hung on his arm:

“If I hear a politician use the term ‘paying your fair share’ one more time, I’m going to vomit,” said Golisano, who turned 70 last month, celebrating the birthday with girlfriend Monica Seles, the former tennis star who won nine Grand Slam singles titles.

Then there’s Leon Cooperman, the former chief of Goldman Sachs’s money-management unit, who said he was urged to speak out by his fellow golfers. His message was a version of Wall Street’s increasingly popular If-you-people-want-a-job, then-you’ll-shut-the-fuck-up rhetorical line:

Cooperman, 68, said in an interview that he can’t walk through the dining room of St. Andrews Country Club in Boca Raton, Florida, without being thanked for speaking up. At least four people expressed their gratitude on Dec. 5 while he was eating an egg-white omelet, he said.

“You’ll get more out of me,” the billionaire said, “if you treat me with respect.”

Finally, there is this from Blackstone CEO Steven Schwartzman:

Asked if he were willing to pay more taxes in a Nov. 30 interview with Bloomberg Television, Blackstone Group LP CEO Stephen Schwarzman spoke about lower-income U.S. families who pay no income tax.

“You have to have skin in the game,” said Schwarzman, 64. “I’m not saying how much people should do. But we should all be part of the system.”

There are obviously a great many things that one could say about this remarkable collection of quotes. One could even, if one wanted, simply savor them alone, without commentary, like lumps of fresh caviar, or raw oysters.

But out of Abelson’s collection of doleful woe-is-us complaints from the offended rich, the one that deserves the most attention is Schwarzman’s line about lower-income folks lacking “skin in the game.” This incredible statement gets right to the heart of why these people suck.

Why? It's not because Schwarzman is factually wrong about lower-income people having no “skin in the game,” ignoring the fact that everyone pays sales taxes, and most everyone pays payroll taxes, and of course there are property taxes for even the lowliest subprime mortgage holders, and so on.

It’s not even because Schwarzman probably himself pays close to zero in income tax – as a private equity chief, he doesn’t pay income tax but tax on carried interest, which carries a maximum 15% tax rate, half the rate of a New York City firefighter.

The real issue has to do with the context of Schwarzman’s quote. The Blackstone billionaire, remember, is one of the more uniquely abhorrent, self-congratulating jerks in the entire world – a man who famously symbolized the excesses of the crisis era when, just as the rest of America was heading into a recession, he threw himself a $5 million birthday party, featuring private performances by Rod Stewart and Patti Labelle, to celebrate an IPO that made him $677 million in a matter of days (within a year, incidentally, the investors who bought that stock would lose three-fourths of their investments).

So that IPO birthday boy is now standing up and insisting, with a straight face, that America’s problem is that compared to taxpaying billionaires like himself, poor people are not invested enough in our society’s future. Apparently, we’d all be in much better shape if the poor were as motivated as Steven Schwarzman is to make America a better place.

But it seems to me that if you’re broke enough that you’re not paying any income tax, you’ve got nothing but skin in the game. You've got it all riding on how well America works.

You can’t afford private security: you need to depend on the police. You can’t afford private health care: Medicare is all you have. You get arrested, you’re not hiring Davis, Polk to get you out of jail: you rely on a public defender to negotiate a court system you'd better pray deals with everyone from the same deck. And you can’t hire landscapers to manicure your lawn and trim your trees: you need the garbage man to come on time and you need the city to patch the potholes in your street.

And in the bigger picture, of course, you need the state and the private sector both to be functioning well enough to provide you with regular work, and a safe place to raise your children, and clean water and clean air.

The entire ethos of modern Wall Street, on the other hand, is complete indifference to all of these matters. The very rich on today’s Wall Street are now so rich that they buy their own social infrastructure. They hire private security, they live on gated mansions on islands and other tax havens, and most notably, they buy their own justice and their own government.

An ordinary person who has a problem that needs fixing puts a letter in the mail to his congressman and sends it to stand in a line in some DC mailroom with thousands of others, waiting for a response.

But citizens of the stateless archipelago where people like Schwarzman live spend millions a year lobbying and donating to political campaigns so that they can jump the line. They don’t need to make sure the government is fulfilling its customer-service obligations, because they buy special access to the government, and get the special service and the metaphorical comped bottle of VIP-room Cristal afforded to select customers.

Want to lower the capital reserve requirements for investment banks? Then-Goldman CEO Hank Paulson takes a meeting with SEC chief Bill Donaldson, and gets it done. Want to kill an attempt to erase the carried interest tax break? Guys like Schwarzman, and Apollo’s Leon Black, and Carlyle’s David Rubenstein, they just show up in Washington at Max Baucus’s doorstep, and they get it killed.

Some of these people take that VIP-room idea a step further. J.P. Morgan Chase CEO Jamie Dimon – the man the New York Times once called “Obama’s favorite banker” – had an excellent method of guaranteeing that the Federal Reserve system’s doors would always be open to him. What he did was, he served as the Chairman of the Board of the New York Fed.

And in 2008, in that moonlighting capacity, he orchestrated a deal in which the Fed provided $29 billion in assistance to help his own bank, Chase, buy up the teetering investment firm Bear Stearns. You read that right: Jamie Dimon helped give himself a bailout. Who needs to worry about good government, when you are the government?

Dimon, incidentally, is another one of those bankers who’s complaining now about the unfair criticism. “Acting like everyone who’s been successful is bad and because you’re rich you’re bad, I don’t understand it,” he recently said, at an investor’s conference.

Hmm. Is Dimon right? Do people hate him just because he’s rich and successful? That really would be unfair. Maybe we should ask the people of Jefferson County, Alabama, what they think.

That particular locality is now in bankruptcy proceedings primarily because Dimon’s bank, Chase, used middlemen to bribe local officials – literally bribe, with cash and watches and new suits – to sign on to a series of onerous interest-rate swap deals that vastly expanded the county’s debt burden.

Essentially, Jamie Dimon handed Birmingham, Alabama a Chase credit card and then bribed its local officials to run up a gigantic balance, leaving future residents and those residents’ children with the bill. As a result, the citizens of Jefferson County will now be making payments to Chase until the end of time.

Do you think Jamie Dimon would have done that deal if he lived in Jefferson County? Put it this way: if he was trying to support two kids on $30,000 a year, and lived in a Birmingham neighborhood full of people in the same boat, would he sign off on a deal that jacked up everyone’s sewer bills 400% for the next thirty years?

Doubtful. But then again, people like Jamie Dimon aren’t really citizens of any country. They live in their own gated archipelago, and the rest of the world is a dumping ground.

Just look at how Chase behaved in Greece, for example.

Having seen how well interest-rate swaps worked for Jefferson County, Alabama, Chase “helped” Greece mask its debt problem for years by selling a similar series of swaps to the Greek government. The bank then turned around and worked with banks like Goldman, Sachs to create a thing called the iTraxx SovX Western Europe index, which allowed investors to bet against Greek debt.

In other words, Chase knowingly larded up the nation of Greece with a crippling future debt burden, then turned around and helped the world bet against Greek debt.

Does a citizen of Greece do that deal? Forget that: does a human being do that deal?

Operations like the Greek swap/short index maneuver were easy money for banks like Goldman and Chase – hell, it’s a no-lose play, like cutting a car’s brake lines and then betting on the driver to crash – but they helped create the monstrous European debt problem that this very minute is threatening to send the entire world economy into collapse, which would result in who knows what horrors. At minimum, millions might lose their jobs and benefits and homes. Millions more will be ruined financially.

But why should Chase and Goldman care what happens to those people? Do they have any skin in that game?

Of course not. We’re talking about banks that not only didn’t warn the citizens of Greece about their future debt disaster, they actively traded on that information, to make money for themselves.

People like Dimon, and Schwarzman, and John Paulson, and all of the rest of them who think the “imbeciles” on the streets are simply full of reasonless class anger, they don’t get it. Nobody hates them for being successful. And not that this needs repeating, but nobody even minds that they are rich.

What makes people furious is that they have stopped being citizens.

Most of us 99-percenters couldn’t even let our dogs leave a dump on the sidewalk without feeling ashamed before our neighbors. It's called having a conscience: even though there are plenty of things most of us could get away with doing, we just don’t do them, because, well, we live here. Most of us wouldn’t take a million dollars to swindle the local school system, or put our next door neighbors out on the street with a robosigned foreclosure, or steal the life’s savings of some old pensioner down the block by selling him a bunch of worthless securities.

But our Too-Big-To-Fail banks unhesitatingly take billions in bailout money and then turn right around and finance the export of jobs to new locations in China and India. They defraud the pension funds of state workers into buying billions of their crap mortgage assets. They take zero-interest loans from the state and then lend that same money back to us at interest. Or, like Chase, they bribe the politicians serving countries and states and cities and even school boards to take on crippling debt deals.

Nobody with real skin in the game, who had any kind of stake in our collective future, would do any of those things. Or, if a person did do those things, you’d at least expect him to have enough shame not to whine to a Bloomberg reporter when the rest of us complained about it.

But these people don’t have shame. What they have, in the place where most of us have shame, are extra sets of balls. Just listen to Cooperman, the former Goldman exec from that country club in Boca. According to Cooperman, the rich do contribute to society:

Capitalists “are not the scourge that they are too often made out to be” and the wealthy aren’t “a monolithic, selfish and unfeeling lot,” Cooperman wrote. They make products that “fill store shelves at Christmas…”

Unbelievable. Merry Christmas, bankers. And good luck getting that message out.

Our Economy Was Built on Bull. Until We Admit That, We’re Screwed

Here's a great article by Kai Wright/ColorLines - very well written - and it mirrors my views on the subject. This is something that is close to my heart and mind on nearly a daily basis as I watch our world devolve into something new and possibly highly unpleasant for large numbers of our fellow citizens. Hell, it already is highly unpleasant for large numbers of our fellow citizens.

I've been wanting to write a post like this for some time. Kai Wright has done it for me - more eloquently than I could have. Definitely more succinctly than I would have. Or could have. Besides, I'm on vacation - the first "real" one in a long, long time - me and sweetiepiehoneybunch and Diggeroo. So I'm taking the lazy way out and cross-posting his piece.

http://colorlines.com/archives/2011/12/get_honest_about_economic_justice_in_2012_or_live_to_regret_it.html

I've been saying this for years, that our heads are in the sand regarding the real truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. As long as we the people continue to ignore and refuse to acknowledge the truth about what is going on across the board and across the planet, we are collectively pissing in the wind. Meaning, we are pissing all over ourselves whilst "trying" (in our beluded state - belief and delusion at the same time) to "solve" "our" "problems" and "issues".

What greater gift could we give to ourselves, our children, their children, our fellow citizens on this planet, the entire planet itself - what greater gift could we give than to be brutally and unequivocally honest about the root causes of the challenges that face us?

What greater gift could we give to the world for our leaders to "man up" and lead with maturity, insight, thoughtfulness, awareness, open-mindedness, and love? To move the profit motive lower on the list. Much lower. Maybe even at the bottom of the list.

I wonder what that economy might look like...?

Without the basis of the fundamental truth as a starting point, we are deluding ourselves that long-term solutions to the issues that face us can be found.

Anyway, I could go on and on, so here's the article:

At the foot of Manhattan’s Broadway Ave., just below Wall Street, stands one of the city’s most reliable tourism draws: Arturo Di Modica’s 3.5-ton statue of a charging bull. Since 1989, the sculpture has been an iconic symbol of American wealth, of the aggressive capitalist spirit that, it is argued, made this country great and powerful. Visitors flock from around the world to rub the bull’s horns for good luck. Or they used to, at least. Now, tourists snap pictures from behind police barricades.

For more than two months, the raging bull of wealth has sat caged, facing eye-to-eye with a New York Police Department cruiser as cops have worked around the clock to protect it from the Occupy Wall Street movement. The park’s administrator called has the security “Orwellian.” That’s to say the least.

If you’re looking for visuals to encapsulate 2011, look no further than the bizarre scene at Di Modica’s bull. Daily, the country’s largest police force mobilizes to protect the idea of American prosperity from an imagined threat, while the actual economy lays gored and gutted by demonstrable and ongoing crimes.

In the immediate, this perversity results from a spectacular failure of political leadership. We traveled a long, winding road to the point at which no-brainers like a modest payroll tax cut and an extension of unemployment benefits demand political brinksmanship. People of varying ideologies and partisan affiliations may debate endlessly who’s more at fault, but to do so is to truly miss the forest for the trees. The ugly reality is no leader in either party has yet shown the mettle to rise and meet the enormity of today’s challenges.

That’s not to suggest moral equivalencies. Republican leaders have been openly obstructionist, preferring a broken economy to a successful Obama presidency. Their cynicism has rarely been as bald as this week’s House vote on the payroll tax cut, but they’ve never made much effort to conceal it.

Still, even if President Obama had been given a willing Congress, the solutions he has championed aren’t nearly on par with the problem. Like his congressional opponents, he insists the structural foundation of our economy remains strong. Rather than confront the core issues—inequity and instability—Obama has thrashed around with Republicans in the margins—over how to control debt, over the degree to which health care should be a commodity rather than a right, over which borrowers were the least irresponsible and thus deserving of help. Meanwhile, at each crucial juncture in his reform-branded presidency, Obama has left financial players to voluntarily take responsibility for their behavior. They remain steadfast in their refusal to do so.

These bipartisan leadership failures have prolonged the immediate crisis, which dates back to 2007, when the foreclosures that would bring down the system first began consuming working-class communities of color in particular. Four years later, Republicans and Democrats alike are still working off of the optimistic notion that we need only contain the immediate problem until we can get back to growth—that we need only protect the bull with barricades until those pesky protesters disappear and allow its charge to resume. With each year that our chosen leaders have indulged this fantasy, a cancer has spread. Each year has brought new records in the poverty, hunger and inequality that will ultimately consume this country.

But that’s just the immediate crisis. As we move into an election year, in which U.S. residents will have prolonged debate over our collective priorities and values, we must pursue answers to a broader question. Since at least 1981, when the Reagan revolution overtook public policy, we have built an economy on two related fictions. The first is that boundless growth is sustainable. The second is that unrestrained capitalism, particularly in the financial sector, will create wealth for everyone. These are discredited ideas, and the question of 2012 must be how we begin building a society based on something different.

This broader question is crucial because, in truth, the problem extends past the economy. Look around and you’ll find one broken institution after another, each of them buckling under the weight of the late 20th century consensus that greed is good, that a winner-takes-all individualism will somehow improve our collective endeavors. Industries, communities, natural resources, even sports leagues have collapsed as Ronald Reagan’s corrosive vision has become dominant.

Meanwhile, racism and racial injustice remain rooted in our society in no small part because they are necessary to explain why unrestrained capitalism and unfettered growth fail so spectacularly in creating widespread wealth. The entrenched, generational poverty that has gripped so many black communities and the yawning racial gaps that persist in wealth and income, among other things, can only be explained if they are blamed on the individuals hurt by them. Thus “welfare queens” and “super predator” youth and cheating “illegals” and “lazy Indians” and on and on. These caricatures continue to inform public policy on poverty, education, immigration and more. They continue to explain away inequity and provide villians against which struggling whites can define themselves without questioning the larger system. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s quote about slave owners—the original unrestrained capitalists—still rings true: “The Southern aristocracy took the world and gave the poor white man Jim Crow.”

Di Modica offered a quote on capitalism, too. In November, Newark’s Star-Ledger asked the artist what he thought about the security around his statue. He didn’t like it. “The bull is for the people,” he declared. “The bull is for everyone, the people with money and the people with no money.” If only it were so.

Wall Street’s bull markets have proven to be for the benefit of a very few. But as the financial industry’s largest players have been unleashed to pursue profit for themselves at all costs, the dreadful consequences have surely impacted everyone. Pensions have been wiped out. Family homes have been stripped of value, many taken away altogether. Small businesses have been locked out of credit markets. More than 14 million people are exiled from the labor force. A galling one in three black children and nearly as many Latino children are growing up in poverty right now, while the president brags about ferreting out fraud in the food stamp program rather than getting more money for it.

Our chosen political leaders have tolerated all of this in order to maintain the fiction that our economic system still works, that the organizing principles of our society remain valid. So the central question of 2012’s likely all-consuming political debate must be simple: How do we acknowledge that our current economy is built on lies and then start erecting a new one based on equity and sustainability?

Again, here is the original article by Kai Wright...

Thanks. Giving.

This photo always makes me think of this time of year for some reason. It's on the wall above my desk.

There is so much to be thankful for. Thankful is not enough. Gratitude. Abundance. Abundant. Gratitude.

I can't help but think that we've somehow gotten it all wrong. Being thankful is good yes. But is abundance and the horn of plenty in life something to be celebrated - when so many are having such a difficult time on this planet?

I can't help but keep thinking the holiday might be rendered more meaningful as a holiday to fast...not feast. A holiday to give to those who are hungry right now. Those who can't afford a luxurious turkey dinner with all the trimmings.

I can't help but wonder. Is this guilt that I'm feeling as a side-dish with my gratitude in this life? Or is the the salty sting of shame? Next year I may choose to go without - and volunteer at a homeless shelter.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.

Miss Representation | A film by Jennifer Siebel Newsom

Airing nationally on October 20 @ 9pm...

http://missrepresentation.org/

Thanks go to Jani Sauna-Man for the find...

Las nubes, el maíz, el granero, la lluvia y mija

This was shot up in Illinois just outside of Chicago, moving my daughter up there a few weeks ago to start Law School. Shot from my iPhone, in a rainstorm, window down, driving 65mph, pulling a UHaul, daughter napping.

It was a dadder-daughter rite of passage weekend aka life milestone event. Five straight days of one-on-one time, perhaps for the last time in our lives. Just being together, talking, laughing, being quiet, thinking.

I miss her.

Badly.

While I'm very happy for her, and very proud of her, and excited for her embarking on some intensive studies and a career, this photo pretty much reflects my mood with regard to her absence from my life, our lives, our local proximity. We all miss her.

She's not my little girl anymore.

Y'all have a good weekend.

Two Dreams

A couple of weeks ago, a couple of tango friends on Facebook were lamenting the cancellation of the fireworks to celebrate July 4th here in Austin this year. Actually, fireworks have been banned throughout the Texas Hill Country because of the extreme drought. Zero tolerance.

I commented something lame like "Let's use the funds that would have been spent on fireworks to build rainwater collection systems..." A noble thought, perhaps. I thought I was being creative to tie the cancellation of the fireworks due to drought back to the drought itself.

What I really wanted to say is this. "Wouldn't it be amazing if we could gather en masse, without the need for fireworks, and celebrate and honor and ponder and discuss the true meaning of the Independence Day. Not just way back in the good 'ol days - the meaning of the Declaration of Independence - not just that auspicious July 4th back in 1776. But the words themselves. The meaning behind the words. The intent. The vision. Take that and transport it forward to today and what does it mean now? Examine it. Feel it. Inhabit it."

Imagine a true celebration and honoring of a concept. A concept applicable to all of humanity through all time. "Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." A celebration and honoring with families and friends and strangers talking about what it meant and what it means. No fireworks, no apple pie, no homemade ice cream, no BBQ, no American flag. Okay, maybe that's a stretch. That would be like celebrating Christmas by going to church and serving soup at the homeless shelter y nada mas. Perhaps. Maybe. Probably not. But it's the thought that counts, right? We Americans would never give up the pleasure centers, the purely hedonistic, the capitalistic aspects of a holiday - to reflect deeply and inwardly about the true meaning of a concept such as this.

We like to have fun. And that's okay. That's a good thing. Have fun and shoot off some fireworks. Celebrate. It's just a little bit sad that we all don't think a little more about what's behind it all. Like we've lost or maybe even willingly given up on all the stuff that's behind it.

So then this past week I've also been pondering The American Dream. I got an email from MoveOn.org about a "house meeting" in a couple of weeks, which I do plan to attend. Actually lots of house meetings across the country - to meet with like-minded folks and talk about Van Jones' "Rebuild The Dream" "American Dream Movement". As best I can tell, it's mostly about correcting income inequality and strengthening the middle class. It reminded me about my pretty much inactive and languishing cuz I never did anything with it Facebook Group called "The New American Dream". Which I created after reading a Vanity Fair article on the subject - I've posted about that before in here. But that's not what this post is about.

Anyway, so I go to NPR this past Sunday to check out the latest show at Krista Tippet's "On Being". It's titled "The Inward Work of Democracy" - an interview with philosopher Jacob Needleman, author of "The American Soul".

I'm started listening (and have yet to finish listening) and got to clicking around and came across his essay "Two Dreams of America", which is part of The Fetzer Institute's project, begun in 1999, called "Deepening the American Dream". You might recall The Fetzer Institute's "Charter for Compassion".

So, get to the point Alex...I find it interesting that a person can open their heart and mind, have a little tiny epiphany about something, ponder it for a few days, and then be led directly to it by happenstance.

I could go on an on about the essay, but I'm running out of time. Gotta go water the bamboo and catch the latest installment of True Blood. I'll leave it to you guys to dive in a read.

Perfect for some introspection on the subject of freedom and democracy on July 4th.

An absolutely perfect way to celebrate and honor this, and every, Independence Day.



Two Dreams of America | Essays on Deepening the American Dream | Jacob Needleman

Connection and The Power of Vulnerability

Good stuff in this one. Very good stuff. Poignant, in that I am one of the ones with vulnerability issues, which I have been unaware of, or numb to, until watching this. Interesting how things we need to hear and discover about ourselves come along http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifjust in the nick of time...

Here's the TEDx intro: Brene Brown studies human connection -- our ability to empathize, belong, love. In a poignant, funny talk at TEDxHouston, she shares a deep insight from her research, one that sent her on a personal quest to know herself as well as to understand humanity. A talk to share.

http://www.brenebrown.com/

I always miss my Dad on Father's Day

Next March will be the thirtieth anniversary of my Dad's death.

I miss him still.

The Truth about the Economy

Robert Reich explains it all in 5 bullet points in 2 minutes. Down there. At the bottom of my insipid ramblings.

Back in the early 1990's, I remember having a very strong gut feeling about an undercurrent redistribution of wealth. We were a family of three living in Flower Mound, Texas - I was a project manager/estimator for a construction company, wifey was a dental assistant/office manager, daughter in public school.

We we living a modest lifestyle within our means - a $95k garden home, an Isuzu Trooper, a Nissan Sentra - no boat, no jet ski, no motor cycle, no lavish vacations, no debt besides mortgage and car notes. Hell, we only budgeted "movie night" (with dinner out) once a month. Our vacations were to Colorado and northern New Mexico - camping out in the National Forest - with a night in a cheap motel every third night or so.

The problem was that this modest lifestyle was eating up essentially 100% of our net income. We didn't have much in the way of savings. No investments. I think I had a 401k. Sundays were my budgeting/bill paying/expense projection days. I tried and tried to figure out where to cut back. Sure, we could have cancelled our cable and saved $25 or perhaps $35 a month. There were no cell phones back then so we had to have a land line. I'm remembering now that I had a company car - so the gasoline bills were low, too.

I remembered looking back to our first car after we were married - a Toyota Corolla for $1,200. And looking at my Isuzu Trooper at $12,000 - my college graduation-gift-to-myself. And then Sentra six years later at $16,000 - used. I remember projecting my weekly take-home pay week after week, month after month, and nothing ever accumulating.

I'm sitting here now acknowledging that we could have shopped for clothes at Wal-Mart instead of Dillard's. We bought our furniture - what little we owned - at Haverty's and Dillards and Foley's. I remember going from a full-size bed to a queen size and thinking/feeling how indulgent and luxurious it seemed.

I remember wondering how we could be working so hard, making good money, living within our means - managing at just above the frugal level. I remember wondering why we were basically just breaking even. I remember wondering why all our neighbors had boats and jet skis and motor cycles and were taking Disney and European Vacations. Most of that was credit cards and HELOC (home equity line of credit), if that credit/default/redistribution of wealth device even existed then.

What I remember most is the feeling that someone, somewhere, was getting rich - accumulating wealth off the backs of the hard working common folks - the "middle class" - and that someone damn sure wasn't me (us).

Those memories are fading into the distant past now - my recollection is vague - but I remember it being very strong back then. A very powerful gut feeling of injustice happening out there in the world. Ah. It's still there, that feeling.

Oh well.

Whatever.

I think I'll make myself a tequila sunrise and go bake myself outside in the shade.

The Awful Truth or The Beautiful Truth?

This is most definitely one of my "non-tango" posts, so please, by all means, feel free to click on past.

I'm sitting here in the early morning dark, reading the "news" as I often do.

Reading and pondering.

For many years now, actually decades, I've wondered about a society's (our society, Western society, or perhaps more accurately, Western civilization) ability to manifest continued/sustained economic growth, resulting in an ever-increasing standard of living, in concert with an ever-increasing level of population.

The population math is simple. 5th grade level. Or it should be. The most recent Crude Birth Rate data for the U.S. available is for 2007. Birth rate of 14.2. Death rate of 8.3. That makes the net increase 5.9. The rates are "per thousand" and the U.S. population is just over 300,000,000. That's three hundred million for the decimally challenged.

The knee-jerk result is pretty much a net increase of 5,000 heartbeats per day. Let me re-phrase. 5,000 new hearts beating per day.

The quick-and-dirty analysis/conclusion I'm about to make is simplistic - that this 5,000 new beating hearts will advance like a wave through the years, eventually turning 18, and wanting/needing a job. Actually, of the 6,128.92 folks who will die today, not all of them had jobs - many are retired and/or permanently unemployed. So that advancing (daily) wave of munchkins/rugrats/young'uns is closer to the daily birthrate figure of 11,671.23. Per day.

The real figure is probably somewhere around 8,000 or 10,000. Ten thousand teenagers turning eighteen today, needing a job this summer, or going off to college next fall, enlisting in their favored branch of the U.S. Military/Industrial/PetroChemical Complex, joining the Peace Corps or a commune, or just being lazy/un-motivated and deciding to live with Mom and Dad for a few more years until they figure it out, or lightning strikes.

10,000 doing their thing to increase their standard of living. Following the formula of The American Dream.

Let's say half of those actually need to be put to work, the other half are doing college or one of the other options.

So that's 5,000/day. Every day. New jobs. New jobs, that as a society, that we need to "create", out of thin air, that didn't exist yesterday. New paper delivery boys/girls, new lawn mower men/women, new babysitters, new burger flippers, new WalMart stockers, new positions, new businesses, new widgets and gadgets and chochkees and whatchamacallits to be invented and manufactured and offered up for sale and/or to separate us from our money, new whatever. New shit to buy with absolutely no redeeming social value. Can't have new jobs for new people without someone somewhere buying some useless shit they are assembling or making or packaging or selling or otherwise offering up to masses. Oh, I forgot, all those types of jobs have been long out-sourced overseas or across the Rio Grande.

Or else they go to the unemployment and/or welfare rolls. Can an eighteen year old kid get unemployment if they've never been employed before? I think not. So the unemployment figures are skewed from the get-go.

They are saying, "they" being the BLS, the Bureau of Labor Statistics, that as of Jan 2011, there are 15,000,000 people unemployed, and only 6,643,000 of those actually "want" jobs.

As I understand it, the self-employed, the under-employed, and those who have given up and are no longer seeking employment are not in those figures. I would say the real figure is closer to 20 or 25 or 30 million. I would offer the great big sucking noise of our economy as evidence.

Not as many worker-bees in the economy, not as much cash in the economy. Or, more accurately, not as much credit in the economy. We weren't living in a cash-based economy, we've been living in a credit-based-live-beyond-your-means-on-borrowed-money economy. Y'all know what I think on that subject.

5,000 new jobs per day.

150,000 new jobs per month.

1,825,000 new jobs per year.

Just to account for population growth.

So, get on with the ponderage Alex. Or is it ponderments? Ponderifications?

I'm sitting here, reading this article, and wondering if a society/civilization/economy can reach a tipping point, a critical mass, where simply no more new jobs can be created. No more new inventions, widgets, trinkets, treasure, fashions can be thought up to separate the masses from their greenbacks. No new services, no new entertainment, no new sports, no new holidays - a critical mass of we've done all we can do to grow the economy, to create new jobs.

We've done it all. Or have we? Is it all/ways about growth and ever higher and higher standards of living? How much more comfortable and luxurious can we human beings "need" to get? Human doings. Maybe we need to do less and be more.

I've gotten to the point that I laugh (okay, maybe not laugh out loud, but at least crack a grin) when I hear the politicians, even our savior Mr. Obama, talk of "creating" jobs and new industry to compete in the world market. I don't discriminate - Blue, Red, tannic acid tea color, even Green - most either don't get it, or won't admit it if they do. When they talk of "growth" and "jobs". Will we have grown "enough" when there is a Rite-Aid or Walgreens Pharmacy or Starbucks on every single corner of every single neighborhood in the land? Is this truly our goal as a society? Is this what is most important to us?

The tipping point is upon us. It is here. We just refuse to see it. We refuse to believe that it could be true - that we've actually been on the wrong path for a long, long time. We're too busy. We've got too much to do. We've got the economic growth engine to be attended to, to be tuned and re-tuned and tweaked and souped-up. The problem is, the problems are, too big to solve. We can't agree on the solutions due to political and philosophical discord. We can't even agree to disagree, we just bitch and moan and disagree all the time while the ship is on fire and sinking. It's just no use even trying.

If this is the case, then it is an awful truth. But I refuse to believe it. The beautiful truth to me is that we can come together, acknowledge the problems that face us like adults, discuss the solutions intelligently and rationally and with civility and compassion and respect and honor.

As I see it, we should be honoring our children, and their children, and many generations into the future, our neighbors, and the planet, and every living creature and ecosystem upon it.

That is the beauty of it. We have before us a beautiful opportunity. An opportunity to change the world for the better for many, many generations to come. To change the way we perceive and approach things with an emphasis on sustainability. Not an emphasis. Sustainability is the way. The only way. Our demise is at the end of this continued path of unsustainable life.

To me, the ultimate form of life, the ultimate standard of living, the highest we can achieve as homo sapiens sapiens, is the sustainable one that honors the planet and future generations.

Even if it means having less in the material sense, making the same amount of money year after year until the day I die, and having more, much more in the life/spiritual/musical/dance/experiential/relationships sense. Family. Friends. Knowing.

Growth yes. But not material/economic growth. Spiritual and intellectual and sentient growth. Growth of mindfulness and awareness. Truth. Beautiful Truth.

Beautiful Truth.

A Facebook friend of mine says we don't have it in us.

I hope he's wrong.

Auld Lang Syne

I'm a wee bit premature with this, but I'll be very busy for the next couple of days. I wanted to share it, and also offer the kind and humble message of new hope in this new year. New beginnings, new friendships, strengthening and deepening of all our relationships, continuing in the quest for enlightenment, compassion, understanding, love and light, hope. This is my wish for myself, my loved ones, and for all.

Happy New Year to you and yours. It will be a good one.



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auld_Lang_Syne

You can buy it here.


Lyrics:
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne* ?

CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my jo,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp !
and surely I’ll be mine !
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We twa hae run about the braes,
and pu’d the gowans fine ;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
sin auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We twa hae paidl’d i' the burn,
frae morning sun till dine ;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
sin auld lang syne.

CHORUS

And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere !
and gie's a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll tak a right gude-willy waught,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

When The Tango Became Music [by Alberto Paz]

Once again, National Tango Day (Argentina, and globally), December 11, has come and gone without fanfare, at least with regard to this humble blogger. Not just yesterday, but last year as well - not a peep. I just couldn't pull anything out of my proverbial fedora, couldn't come up with anything of any value myself. I Googled around, feebly, looking for an official website, announcement, press release, something, anything to post to mark the day.

But nothing. Nothing came. I pondered this day for a week or so, my computer calendar popping up with a reminder each day, but still nothing.

There is the "Global Milonga" event that uses December 11 - ostensibly in celebration of the National Tango Day or Day of Tango or Dia del Tango - but their mission appears to be more globally oriented, calling attention to the environment, "celebrating Tango's ability to unite and transform" - with this year's theme being to planting trees in the ravaged and struggling country of Haiti.

A good and noble cause, but not what I was looking for.

We had planned to go to a milonga last night, after a very small dinner party with a close friend. I figgered that would be my own little celebration, my own private acknowledgment of the day, to dance a little tango with my love in my arms in honor of this love my tango. But it was not meant to be. Chopin played on a grand piano, with a glass of vino tinto trumps tango. Every time.

So, this morning, booting myself up on Facebook, I was pleased when I read Alberto Paz' piece honoring the day. I couldn't have even come close to anything like this, and Alberto was gracious enough to allow me to re-post it here in its entirety.

I love the natural and innate flow of the Universe, of tango, of this blog, of my life. Everything always seems to come together, falling into place as it was meant to, as it wants to, as it has to. Natural and without force, guided by love and friends and friendship and good, well intentioned energy. The world is as it should be. Mostly. But that, my friends, is the subject of another post, and as usual, I am digressing.

Based out of my childhood home of New Orleans, Louisiana, Alberto is well known for his Planet Tango website and greatly appreciated for his tango lyrics translations, now at Letras de Tango. He's also coming back strong after a serious health scare. We were all worried about him, and the word is he's feeling much better and feeling strong enough to dance again. I'll speak for all of us and extend well wishes to him (and to Valorie) in his continued recovery. They have both been to hell and back - a big Texas hug from me.

So, without further ado, and thanks again Alberto, and take good care of that ticker...

When The Tango Became Music
Posted by Alberto Paz on Sunday, December 12, 2010 at 12:21am

Nearing the end of the first thirty years of the twentieth century, every orchestra sounded more or less the same way as if the original sound born out of many sounds had become a long road to musical boredom. Along the way had traveled the heroic itinerant trios that perched on the corners of tough neighborhoods, the artistic innovation that brought the incorporation of the bandoneon, and the legendary quartets.

To be fair, every ensemble had a leader and everyone attempted to add a bit of his own personal touch, but in general, the styles of the orchestras were so similar that it was hard to tell apart the works of Vicente Greco, Juan Maglio Pacho, Roberto Firpo, Francisco Canaro or Augusto Berto.

Julio De Caro, whose birthday on December 11 contributed to the designation of the date as National Day of Tango in Buenos Aires, broke ranks with the traditional style and led a genuine opening into renovation, a revolution that saved the tango from oblivion. Yet, De Caro did not discard what others had done before. His typical sextet gave new life to some of the greatest creations of Eduardo Arolas and Agustin Bardi.

They amalgamated into a genial coexistence with the new found beauty of the romantic melodies emanating from the creative muse of Juan Carlos Cobian, Osvaldo Fresedo, and Enrique Delfino.

During the early days of the twentieth century very few people stayed in school beyond the third grade and illiteracy in Buenos Aires was very high. Thus the music of the tangos of that period suited very well the simply minds of the audiences. When mandatory public school was established, the popular culture grew up and the music of the tanguitos of Arolas began to be insufficient for the larger intellectual capacity of the new audiences.

This generational change of guard led the Argentine Tango to a musical evolution that paralleled the cultural evolution of the porteño. The sounds of a changing Tango continued to be Tango, much in the same way that an educated porteño continued being a porteño.



History has appointed Julio De Caro, the supreme priest of the major renovation vanguard that took place in the mid 1920’s. The word vanguard had been used mostly in military lingo to identify what is up front, at the leading edge of the battlefield. With the stellar appearance of Julio De Caro, the history of the Tango was divided in two major hemispheres, the pre and post De Caro era. At the helm of the renovation, the sexteto tipico lead by Julio De Caro paved the way for the vanguardistas who continued to advance, faithful to their commitment to always be ahead of the rest.

The concepts and style which have become known as integral parts of the Decarean school, have constituted a standard by which all instrumental renovation of the Tango has been measured, both in terms of authenticity and naturalness. In very simple terms, the Decarean concept was to embellish the melody of the Tango.

In his memoirs, Julio De Caro remembers the time when, as a third violin for one of Cobian’s recording sessions, he found a section of one of the Tangos to be very poor. With no time to write a new arrangement, De Caro decided to add a counterpoint with the intention of embellishing the melody. This addition had very good acceptance but as Cobian found out about the daring modification that De Caro had done, he admonished him reminding him about who was the boss.

This reprimand in lieu of a praise was enough for 24 year-old De Caro to leave the Cobian sextet. He took with him bandoneon players Pedro Maffia and Luis Petrucelli, called upon his brother Francisco to play the piano, drafted Leopoldo Thompson (the inventor of the canyengue sound effect) to play the bass and brought yet another brother, Emilio as a second violin.

Historian Luis Adolfo Sierra has written perhaps one of the most celebrated hyperbole about the De Caro tendencies, “the harmonic accompaniment of the piano, the phrasing and variations of the bandoneons, the counterpoint of the violin knitting melodies of pleasant contrast with the central theme, plus the piano and bandoneon solos expressed with a harmonic and sonorous richness never heard before then, are some of the most valuable contributions that those real innovators introduced in the execution of the Tango.”

Jose Gobello says that what it is most recognizable of the De Caro sextet, is the intention to synthesize the insolence with the romanticism, the rusticity of the outskirts with the refinement from the conservatories. While Julio was best represented by the cheeky twist in (listen to Mala Junta), his brother Francisco embodied the romantic flair of (listen to Flores Negras).


Thanks to Julio De Caro the destiny of the Tango was also in the music, not just in the dance or the singing.

A small token from a broken man...

A small token from a beautiful weekend...

Happy Thanksgiving!

We're in El Paso with the fam-o-lee. I'm in charge of the cranberry sauce/chutney/compote/whatever...poring over recipes on Martha Stewart dot com...wanting to do something a little more creative/innovative...

Who'da thunk? Martha Stewart. "It's a good thing..."

Hope your Thanksgiving is full of grace and good food and good times with family & friends.

Cuz that's what it's all about my friends.

21st Century Enlightenment

Matthew Taylor explores the meaning of 21st century enlightenment, how the idea might help us meet the challenges we face today...in a cool animated video...

Brought to you by the folks at The Renaissance Society of America [RSA]...

The Year of Pegasus

Photo by manganite on flickr

I have been contemplating a Merry Christmas and now a New Year's post for a few weeks now. I missed Christmas - I made a video of the dog in sleigh bells, but had soundtrack/editing issues. Oh well. Having missed that one, I was determined not to miss the new year/new decade post, but I've been drawing blanks for a topic.

It seems that I have been drawing blanks all year with regard to this blog. I have a wire basket in my office overflowing with scraps of paper and Post-It notes with thoughts and ideas written on them. I have a couple of those brown kraft paper notebooks that Moleskine makes - full of jots and scribbles. I can't even find them - that office is a mess. Found them...

...China master-disciple relationship...Asset underutilized corporate-speak...Manual labor hard work...Tanda music wrong woman timing...Sentient being planet sustainably support 2 billon not 6b surely not 9b...10/22 people who are uncomfortable with close embrace deserve to have tango in their lives too...Dog name Bexar (for a friend...pronounced Bear in these parts...for a tiny shitzoo...then I told her she should name him Genghis Khan, in keeping with his Chinese heritage...). ..Hotel California in Georgia story...Climb On products...Chris Belknap design earth synergy...Parallels between architecture & tango...Going through life going through the motions would rather be bothered not blind after all the true meaning of life is nothing/ness...Book Too Big to Fail nature of capitalism maximize profits hurt the system hurt society hurt the individual...Exploiting other people's weaknesses...NPR feudal system in Pakistan no stigma re: corruption evolution of corruption in Afghanistan....China in 1 year 7000 miles of high speed rail US only 700 Chinese gov't able to form policy and quickly effect it...Hippie deluxe...

So it's not so much that I'm drawing a blank for posts. But blank on what to actually take the time to post. Blank 'cuz I've been busy. Blank 'cuz I have other and higher priorities. Blank 'cuz I'm in love. Feeling overwhelmed. Feelings of missing tango and tango friends. Festivals passing me by. Struggling with that. Trying to get my head around that. I suppose it's a good thing to feel overwhelmed. I was feeling severely underwhelmed that last year in Aspen - the first year of this blog.

Blank because of my perceived negativity in my posts? She says I sometimes come across as preaching and/or pontificating. I have recognized for some time that I bitch and moan and rant a lot. This was actually by design to some degree. I wanted to always "speak my mind" in this blog. Stuff bothers me. Stuff pisses me off. But I also see the beauty in it all every day. I tear up when the sandhill cranes honk and wheel in flight overhead. I think we are pretty much fucking things up. But I am hopeful. I think we are pretty much oblivious to our impacts and effects on the world around us, to ourselves, the society of man and to our children and their children. But I remain hopeful. I am trying to be more active and do something about it. But I have yet to make it to my first county commissioner's meeting. I have written to my reps in Congress. They reply. I am working on doing some sustainable, low-key, low-impact development. We shall see. I feel pretty certain that this is a "great correction", lasting two or three more decades, and not "recovering" in two or three years. But I am hopeful. Because I believe that a sustainable, cash based world economy is good for humankind. Hopeful ranting. Joyful preaching. Happy pontificating. I do often rant with a smile on my face.

Resolutions. I thought about that as a topic, but it's so trite and hackneyed. Part of the overwhelm-ed-ness is being more disorganized than I ever have. That comes from having my house of cards blown into the wind back in Aspen. The cards are now all settled here. I just need to pull them all together and tuck them away in their box. Need to lose a few pounds. Eat better. Cure the addiction to sugar. More exercise. More photography. More writing. More tango. Hackneyed. The year behind. The year ahead. Goals and aspirations. Overdone.

It struck me this morning that this one is also the end of the first decade of the new millennium. It seems like only yesterday that it was Y2k, the year 2000. An entire decade flashes before your eyes. Wow. What a ride. SweetiePieHoneyBunch and I were sitting in bed this morning, watching the sunrise, drinking coffee (Bailey's for her, mocha for me), talking about what I could write about. She's my muse, as women are in men's lives. She doesn't realize it. I don't think I realized it until I just now wrote it.

I'll tell a little story. It was our second date. I was living at my brother's place having just moved back from Georgia - he was off in Florida on business. Bacon wrapped shrimp were sizzling and smelling delicious on the grill, and I was running around trying to get dinner cooked for her - for us. She had just come from a gig and had her guitar in the car. She asked if I would like to hear a song. Of course.
As she tells the story now, she expected that I would just keep on cooking in the kitchen while she sang a song in the living room. I turned down the burners, topped off our pinot noir, and moved a comfy chair in front of the fireplace for me to sit in. I pulled up a chair with no arms for her to sit in - right in front of me.

Apparently the "no arms" made a big impression with her. It was without thought on my part - obviously guitar players sit in chairs with no arms. We sat directly facing each other - I was intently attentive. This was a first for me. A beautiful woman with a beautiful voice playing beautiful music on a beautiful guitar on a beautiful night in front of a beautiful fire. I was compelled to listen, compelled to a heightened level of attention. Every note, every word, every nuance, every little grace about her.

I cried. Hey, it was a beautiful song. I think I won her heart right there. She was touched by my tears. Tears of joy you might say. I do cry at beauty fairly often. Then I started chuckling, then laughing, growing into a full blown guffaw. She was taken aback, thinking I was laughing at her or about her, or something. She didn't know me - remember, it was only our second date. She asked what I was laughing at. I said "I'm just so happy that you're good, and I don't have to fake it." Faking it would have been "oh yeah honey, that was real good, now put that guitar away and let's eat..."

We savored those moments after the song, savoring the wine, savoring each other. I finished cooking, we ate, and ended up falling asleep lying in each other's arms in front of the fire. Not a bad second date.

But I digress.

So, we were sitting in bed this morning talking, as we do every morning. The image of Pegasus had come into my mind earlier. I asked her about Pegasus - she has a song called "Child of the Big Sky" with a strong Pegasus reference, so I figger'd she had done some research. I cry every time she sings that one, too. We google'd it, then wiki'd it, allowing the laptop into the bed for a moment. Somehow Pegasus and his birth of Poseidon and Medusa, somehow this winged horse whose hoofs strike the Earth and make springs well up, somehow this bearer of lightning bolts, somehow this glorious beast/myth/image represents this time for me. This day. This moment. This spot on the earth. The coming year. The coming decade. The coming years of my life. The coming years for all of our lives on this Earth. Hope. Beauty. Struggle. Love. Enlightenment.

Somehow this Pegasus represents what I want to write about. Not Pegasus himself, but the imagery, the mythology, the feeling. Something. Can this Pegasus save us from ourselves? Does he hold the lightning bolt in his quiver that will strike the Earth and wake us up from our materialistic oblivion? Hmm. I dunno.

We got to talking about security or perceived security. The want of people who avoid risk in favor of "security". Security in the form of a 30 year fixed mortgage, a 401k, diversified investments, a white picket fence, a gold watch. Security in the form of the conformism. The Conforming American Dream. Events of the past two years, of the past decade, have made anyone with any sense wonder about wisdom of the Conforming American Dream. The CAD evolved over the past hundred years or so into something unsustainable, unhealthy I believe - environmentally, socially, culturally, emotionally. I won't go there. You get my drift.

We talked about the metaphors of this life - like driving through a National Park and never getting out of the car. I don't know where I'm going with this. I like that about writing extemporaneously - something will be born of the words, of the flow. Something. Hopefully.

We were thinking of a close friend, retiring this year, doing all the right things. Conforming. Good job. Secure financially. Secure in a long marriage. Nice house in a nice suburb. Kids grown and gone and doing well. But at what cost? The cost of lost life experiences? The cost of a love affair on a beach for two weeks in the Cayman Islands? Lost writing or painting or making music? Lost love? Lost self? The cost of other dreams set aside? Not too late for a course correction. Not too late to recoup any losses - perceived or otherwise.

At the end of my first marriage, when I decided to walk away from conformity forever, I felt like I had lost my "self", my soul. Twenty years of doing what I thought was expected of me, doing what I thought was mandatory of me, doing the corporate thing - raises, promotions, increasing responsibilities, bigger house, better car, more and better "stuff". Twenty years of that, when my heart wasn't in it, was too much for a man to bear. I hid my depression by crying in the shower each night, after coming home late from work. It stripped me to my core. Perhaps I had to lose my "self" in order to find myself.

And here it comes, finally it gels. Sweet. This decade for me has been one of "self". I had to find my self. By myself. Find him and know him. Knowing versus knowledge. Knowing him, and loving him. I had to figure out how to love myself before I could find love. Writing this, I can't see through the tears right now, damn them. I had to love myself and find love before I could love this life. A good life. A life with just enough of everything. Enough love, laughter, beauty, kindness, cash, food, water, wood to build a workshop or a warm fire in the woods, whatever. Enough. Not more. Not better. Not increasing responsibility. Not a better title. Not more recognition. Enough. Just enough.

My Facebook profile says something about "I've been pondering self-actualization these days...", from Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. Food/Water/Shelter/Self Esteem/Love/Self-Actualization or something along those lines. I am thankful that I am coming into these years of self-actualization, with the other "needs" largely met. For my second half-century on this planet. For the coming decades. Content. Happy. Hopeful. Full of love. Another year older. Another year wiser. My daughter called last night for advice on selecting a wine to go with seafood gumbo. That's a new one for me. I'm a dad, he realizes, 21 years after the fact.

In this coming year and decade, thrive my friends. Flourish. Bring yourself to your fullest potential as a human being, dad, citizen, spouse, friend, lover, son, brother, tango dancer. That's my plan.

Happy New Year.

On Father's Day :: A letter to my daughter

My first wife and I had used the rhythm method of birth control for many years. I won't bore you with the details, but suffice it to say it's based on knowing the few-to-several days that a woman is ovulating - fertile. So, the method can also be very useful when a couple is trying very hard to get pregnant. In that seventh year of our marriage, it was based on the timing of college graduation and getting a job afterwards.

It was most definitely a planned pregnancy. Frequent attempts during ovulation, morning, noon and night. My work was close by, so I drove home from work each day at lunch to do my duty. After several months of this, I was spent. Our timing window was closing, so we eventually gave up. The month after that, it happened. That's the way of the universe.

We chose the option where it was like a suite in the hospital - the feeling of giving birth at home - except that the actual birth was in the delivery room. Her mom had to stay in recovery for several hours, so after they had cleaned up the little boo (I still call her Boo) and counted her fingers and toes, they brought her to me in our suite. I sat in a rocking chair and held her in my arms, looking down at this little miracle her mom and I had created - plan or no plan. As I recall, I held her in my arms for three or four hours, with nurses coming in to check on us.

The bond between parent and child is a strong one. It's a love that cannot be described, cannot be explained, cannot be analyzed. It's not meant to be. It's meant to just exist. It is the kind where you would throw yourself in front of a speeding, million ton diesel locomotive to push your child to safety. Is the kind where you would give your own heart for a transplant, without a moment's hesitation. To say you would give your life for your child doesn't even touch the surface. If it meant a better life for my child, if it ensured her happiness, I would take in all the pain and suffering in the entire world. I would take it into myself and make it go away. That is the bond. That is the love.

Leaving her mom was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. But that is another story. Boo was six when I asked her mom for a divorce. I remember sitting on the edge of the bed, looking her mom in the eye, and telling her I didn't love her any more. We had been together seventeen years. My biggest fears were the potential negative outcomes of divorce. That her mom might try to poison my own daughter against me. That she might use this beautiful child as a weapon in our divorce and ensuing years. Fears that her relationships with men in her adult life could be effected. Other fears, mostly unfounded. A few years ago, we talked for the first time about that period - the divorce and her memories. The thing that stuck is that she said she remembered me never being around. That was, and is still, painful for me.

Fast forward to today. Her adult life is here, now. She'll be 21 in October. "Legal". I could say she's a good kid buy I would be lying. She's a great kid, a wonderful daughter. Intelligent, beautiful, sweet, nice, thoughtful, passionate, open-minded, funny, and so-far-so-good, liberal. She's well on her way in this crazy world - which I worry about. What does the future hold for my boo? All I can do at this point is hope for the best and be there for her when she needs me.

We're close physically, finally living in the same city, but I wish we were closer emotionally. I wish she would come to me with her problems and her worries, if there are any. Perhaps, in time, this will come to pass.

Sugarpiehoneybunch and I were at a Midsummer's Eve celebration last night - to celebrate the dawn of the summer solstice with dear friends - old and new. To celebrate the marriage of the earth and the sky. To celebrate love and light and goodness. To pray for abundance and bounty on the earth. To ponder spirit and soul and ego. To think of Stonehenge, the Temple of the Sun, and their perfect alignment with the track of the sun on its zenith. To question it all, to seek to understand it all. For a moment, to wonder at the meaning of this life, on this planet.

I didn't write my fantasy on a piece of paper to be read and burned in the fire as the others did. Fantasy, wish, hope, offering, sacrifice - whatever it was to be - I couldn't come up with anything. As I stared into the firelight, listening to the troubadours play, making music with guitar and flute and cool breeze and sky and fire, it came to me. My wish is for my daughter.

My wish is for my daughter to always be happy. To play and laugh and enjoy good times. To always have a roof over her head and a warm bed to sleep in and dream sweet dreams in. Delicious food, pure water, libation in moderation. To always remain safe and out of harm's way. To be blessed with good health, and the drive to maintain a healthy lifestyle. To listen to her heart. To stay true to her heart. To be blessed with confidence and self-assuredness, but never arrogance or ego. To do what she loves for a livelihood - the money will follow. For all her friendships and relationships to be filled with joy and respect. For the men in her life to care for her as I do. For the loves in her life to always respect and honor and cherish her heart and mind and soul. Absent jealousy and heartache. For her heart to never be broken. Or if it is, for her to grow and learn from it, come out of it with a stronger heart and soul - a stronger woman. Forever, to thine own self be true.

This is my wish on this Father's Day, on this Summer 's Solstice, for my daughter.

I love you boo.