Category: PAPA’S MISS/MASH (Page 1 of 4)

Papa recently had a post op appointment downtown. The drive to and from passes the ICE facility. It’s entry gate has been closed in the past. There is always a smattering of pickets nearby during the daylight hours. My last visit was an exception because the access gate to ICE was open when I pulled up to a stop sign across the street on my way home from the medical appointment. This time I saw several vehicles inside the facility lined up to exit. A young woman then walked in front of the open gate and stopped. She looked down at her phone as she stood in the way. Some pickets moved in her direction to help block the driveway.

Papa made his right turn and drove briefly before stopping at a red light. My windows were closed and, of course Doris Day/Dennis Day type music was playing. Noise from the picketters could be heard. In my rearview mirror I could see vehicles slowly exiting through the ICE gate. A few officers walked out and formed a path. The young woman no longer fiddled with her phone but was yelling at each vehicle along with others. The red light was fairly short before I could proceed south but I was able to hear nine distinct “Fs” words as I waited. Not a big deal. Rude and crude. Not sure of the point. However, I was soon on my way out of Portland; a shell of a city compared to what I knew from 20+ years of work downtown.

On reflection, I wonder whether the years of local turmoil has lulled the city leaders and citizens into a bit of a delusional state. What I saw was mild. Costumed protesters recently adds purposeful silliness to the antics. At night however the crowds grow bigger. Noisier and allegedly more aggressive. Hard to tell at times because local news is focused on tear gas/smoke deployed but quite short on possible reasons it was used. Noise ordinances, if any, are not enforced. According to local tennants the sounds, including via amplification goes all night or at least until the early morning hours when the protesters leave. Fireworks, flashing devices and blinding lasers are used. Streets blocked at times and any ingress/egress from ICE brings out officers to clear pathways for vehicles. On and on, night after night and all is always described as peaceful protests by locals. I feel that it doesn’t seem unreasonable to limit the noise during certain hours for nearby neighbors, or for protesters to stay on the sidewalk and not impede traffic. And, since ICE has a legitimate role to play in law enforcement, perhaps spending less resources on protecting a federal facility is rational. However, I doubt if such limits would be described as reasonable by many locals. Theirs is a different world.

The use of lasers by protesters is interesting. Some have supposedly been pointed at government helicopters. That is dangerous if flashed into eyes of pilots as has been reported. At one point handbills were passed out encouraging such targeting with lasers. The possible threat was taken serious enough that the medical hospital/facility Papa drives to and from closed its Medevac heliport to be on the safe side. An extra 30-60 minutes by ambulance would be needed for outlying patients in need of emergency transport. The only followup news I’ve seen thereafter was a report that no accidents/emergencies popped up that were impacted by the no Medevac helicopter fly rule that weekend. All’s well that ends well it seems. Is Papa crazy to think that such a threat just might continue beyond one weekend? Perhaps local officials feel it was simply a weekend one off.

I planned to publish yesterday. However, I knew that the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals decision might be out soon. Today the unsurprising ruling was published. I urge you to read it; especially the portion that discusses the violence that regularly has occurred near the ICE facility. The lower windows are indeed still boarded up. (Looking alot like downtown Portland.) It’s hard to get reiable news around here. I was surprised that the facility was closed for weeks due to damage. (Papa needs to stay home Summers?) Or, that 25% of the total Federal Protective Service is at Portland working 12 hour shifts/ 7 day per week. Incident after incident that might curl the toes of some but probably feels patriotic if targeted against (ICE?)…really Trump and that washes all sins.

When north of the border this summer a few American friends asked what Canadians thought of Trump’s talk about making their country our 51st state. Frankly I hadn’t paid much attention to it and I didn’t hear a lot of talk in the rural area where our cabin is located. The best line I heard was from a friend who said he’d not be sending me an invoice for work he did until they were a part of the US. Then I’d have to pay in US dollars. My response, if asked by locals, was that it made no sense for Trump or the republican party to want an extra state that would vote democrat. Canada is quite left leaning. For whatever reason Trump stirs things up whether it makes sense or not. Over a few weeks I did note subtle comments that indicated some Canadians were more stung by his statehood suggestion. Part of that was the “elbows up” attitude of their national election intended to stand up to Trump.

In any event, as a guest in another country, I do not feel comfortable being critical of their politics. Tariffs and trade represent real issues between our two countries. Canada is a more controlled economy. Certain sectors get protective rules. I don’t understand it but there are also some sort of trade barriers between provinces. Though I try not to be critical, I am surprised how easily citizens of other countries have no issue lambasting the US to one’s face. I found this to be especially true in Europe. Such conversations usually begin with a version of, “Oh, we are so sorry for you Americans.” Then we are told what is wrong with our system, policies or leaders etc. Knowing in my heart of hearts that I live in the best country in the world their attempts fail to get much more from me than a polite smile. I know that there are some American tourists who will join with a woe is us attitude. Not my cup of tea. Much of the world never quite threw off the shackles of the past.

Canada had its chance nearly 250 years ago. I remember a history lecture in which our professor estimated that about 1/3 of Americans were patriots, 1/3 were loyalists and 1/3 neutral or too busy carving out a life to care. Many loyalists went to Canada. A few may have gone back to England if they had the means. In Canada those loyalists faced a divide between Upper and Lower Canada for nearly another 100 years under English rule. Then Canada became part of a Dominion (Confederation) until 1982’s constitution. It’s taken awhile for them to get rid of King/Queen rule. Some chain links are hard to break; the UK Parliament needed to pass legislation in 1982. And, of course the Queen needed to sign off. And, it is not lost on me that King Charles made the trip over to open this year’s session of parliament. Even ceremonial ties are hard to cut.

I love going to Canada. I enjoy every moment spent with its citizens. I do not know why Trump mused what he did about statehood. On paper and in retrospect, it would have made a lot of sense 200 years ago. Choices were made, evolution occurred and nationalism has set in. Now? Not an easy outcome even if Canadians wanted to join the US. Papa does not see a union meshing too well. Their forging process was quite different. Best we just remain really good friends; especially with Cape Breton. (*This post was started in Canada but internet issues thwarted completion. )

It is mind numbing that a speaker was murdered on a college campus this week because his opinions irritate a segment of the population. The slaying makes a mockery of Papa’s old “sifting and winnowing” recommendation to you from Badgerland. An evil example that far too many of our fellow citizens have indeed closed their minds. That this week’s victim died trying to pry open minds on college campuses adds to the irony. It is scary that so many people fervently believe that they and their cohorts are 100% correct 100% of the time. Closed minds that are ripe for manipulation. True believers probably don’t see why another person can’t be wrong 100% of the time on everything. Conversely, it must feel good for them to feel correct 100% of the time.

Closed minded folks may be overdue for what Papa describes as a healthy dose of “So What?” Assuming the murder victim batted zero for a hundred and was preaching that up is down and black is white and that rain falls upward why would any rational person find those opinions worthy of intentional homicide? Ah, some will say, the problem lies with the fact that many people agreed with him. He had a following. Some internet nuts suggest that such accepted opinions justify violence against the speaker. What logic. Then is it okay to accept violence against those who heard his message and agree with his opinions? Might those supposedly misguided folks repeat/spread his thoughts? What about those cretins who only accept 40 or 60 or 70% of his philosophy? Off with their heads also? Could it be that it is difficult to quash ideas with a single bullet?

Not so fast some may say to Papa. He wasn’t takling about up being down or other silly examples cited above. True believers that the sky is falling in so many respects will claim the murder victim supported what they see as vile speech. He frequented college campuses to try to convince students towards more conservative thinking. In a manner of speaking he kind of went into the lion’s den. It was mostly speech and his presence that riled folks who are very uninterested in listening. Sometimes Papa may agree with only 10 or 20% of what a speaker says but the concept of violence doesn’t rear up in the dark corners of the mind. In such circumstance I am more likely to conjure up a question/retort of my own while listening. Kids at his rallies didn’t simply sit back and ponder responses to topics. He handed thema micrphone and engaged in back and forth conversations.

Which reminds Papa of high school/college/law school debate teams/sessions. All four boys in my family debated at various levels. It was fun. It was interesting. My entire career as an attorney/judge involved seeing more than one side in a dispute/argument. It would seem quite impossible to form a firm opinion or come to a reasonable decision if studying an issue from just one viewpoint. I remember classmates who were so ridgedly zeroed in that they never understood why they miss hit on certain course grades. If formal debate is not your cup of tea or offered in school be sure to approach your evaluation of political or cultural issues with an open mind. Use the old noggin not fists.

Seek out classmates, teachers and others who welcome open discussions of issues. It is always good to listen to a range of viewpoints. In the process of forming your own opinions and values, an open mind is vital to testing one’s conclusions. If you run into people who don’t openly engage don’t be discouraged. Many are so set in their opinions that they only want to enter discussions as a way to affirm their set in concrete views. Our country needs a ton of healing and I urge you to help by speaking calmly without harsh accusatory words for those with differing opinions. Tolerance for others used to be a cherished hallmark of being an American. Foster independent thought and accept that others will be different from you. The world is not going to go to hell in a hand basket if you don’t join 100% with the sky is falling crowd. Let them do the cynical worrying. When others say it’s best not to discuss certain issues in a social setting it may well be that they do not wish to have open discussions but fear that someone will not jump on their one note band wagon “discussion.” No loss there for you.

In the past year Papa has flown out of Portland’s airport four times. As I have done in the past the presence of an artificial hip is relayed to TSA personel. That disclosure sends me to the larger body scanner at PDX. Each time my scan then fails and sends me to the next step. I get the full knee to waist and in between pat down. Or, what feels more like a squeeze down. No part of the process takes as long as the explanation protocol. Grasping can be done here or there in private. The jumble of colors on a view screen that reminds one of a Rorschach test is referenced but not understood by me or explained by them. Lots of color down there. Here is what part on the body will be touched and which part of the grabbler’s hands will go where; up and down and all around. Understood?

Okay, okay. Get it over with. Ever since 9/11 who is opposed to enhanced security? Not Papa. There are bad guys out there. Yet, an unsettling feeling has developed. In the past year I have also gone through the I have a fake hip routine at airports in Madison, Chicago, Boston, Raleigh and San Jose. Throw in Halifax and Vancouver in Canada it means six airports failed to give me the full frisk. Which raises questions. Is the scanner at Portland of a better quality or calibrated for extra security? If so, can’t even the bad guys figure out there are airports that are more inviting targets for nafarious entry onto jets? One might suggest that consistency in equipment or protocol at all airport screening sites is a desired goal. If it is willy nilly, is the traveling public as safe as possible?

Papa asks airport security why he only trigers a full monty alert in Portland. That turns out to be the one time he gets consistency across the board. However, the shrug of the shoulders response fails to inspire confidence in me.

Papa has said it before but today is the most significant historical date in the last century. D-Day was the start of the push to stop a wave of dictatorship violence that resulted in life and opportunity for millions. It is hard to envision what the world would look like if Germany and Japan had not been defeated. Interestingly, as America nears its 250th birthday, those two nations benefit greatly by enjoying a peaceful start of democracy. Not so sure other nations get the gist of individual freedom experienced here in the US. Our expeince was unique. The US threw off the yoke of Old World rulers and elbowed its way forward. (By the way, watch the movie “How The West Was Won” for some insight on America’s expansion.)

All the countries of South and North America had a chance at our form of individual freedom but only a few have succeeded. Most have had centuries of PooBahs. People and cultures love their PooBahs. Or, at least tolerate the same. I get a kick out of Trump giving Canada a third crack at being a part of the US. I sense leg pulling. Why would a supposed Republican want to add senators/representatives to Congress who probably have a deep leftist mindset? Loyalists fled north during our American Revolution and didn’t react to advantage in the War of 1812. They stuck with their King and to some lesser degree still do today. But, they are no loner a Dominion and independent since 1867 or 1931 or perhaps 1982 or somewhere along the line.

Well, it’s come to this for Papa. Whereas, once the year 2000, the start of a new century, seemed far off, there is a new calendar year setting a goal for me. I remember that in 1988 the year 2000 seemed way too far over the horizon. However, it was a dream goal back then. Fresh off my quadruple heart by-passes I thought I could vigilantly exercise and eat a sawdust diet to live for another twelve years. That dream of self discipline faded sometime in 1989. Missing a few days, weeks, months of dedicated physical effort got me back to reality. I’d need some luck to see 2000.

Luck must have kicked into high gear at some point because a new goal recently was set for me. It arrived in the US mail. I received a letter from the state of Oregon. Due to a VA disability finding I am eligible for free state park admission. One thing stood out to me immediately. Its 2035 expiration date. That tidbit finally brought a hard truth home to me: we are no longer in the 20th century. Even though it was a goal of sorts writing the date with a 20 still feels uncomfortable. I’m a 1950’s guy. Long term didn’t reach out this far for me, much less 2035. But, that’s a new expiration date. A new goal. (Not necessarily for me but at least for a card of paper.)

Free. Free anything sure got Papa’s attention. Even admission to state parks. The question now is how many times will the pass be used? Will it be torn with jagged edges tucked inside my wallet on the table next to my death bed? Or, will it be in pristine condition in the glove compartment of my car? Before it is too late I aim to find a state park and enter it for free. As life fritters away it is essential to have motivating goals.

At some point in time every kitchen runs out of essential ingredients. Depletion happens more quickly if one’s cooking specialties are limited. It could be claimed my menus are so limited that one particular meal is prepared and served more often than other main menu items. Pork Tenderloin is so easy to make which suits Papa’s culinary skill level. Plus, it comes in a handy four pack at Costco. Economical meat entree for sure. But, to prepare it herb crusted one does need thyme and rosemary as part of the ingredients.

The simple solution is a quick trip to the grocery store. My closest store does not have hand baskets or small carts. Because my experience tells me that I may encounter other items that are needed/desired or on sale Papa takes a cart designed to hold supplies for a six month trek on the Oregon Trail. Overkill for sure. However, I bring home the less than one ounce bottles of herbs along with twenty pounds of other stuff.

Oven is set for pre-heat and my attention turns to the searing process. All I need to do is open the bottles. I have the knife at the ready to cut the plastic wrap around the caps. I no longer use the larger mongo knife that cut my finger on more delicate packaging opening. Off goes the plastic. Unscew the cap. Wait a min ute. Another plastic shaker top needs to be removed so that I can get to another layer that covers the precious herbal contents. That layer has a tiny tab that flaps up. Teeny is actually a better description. Or, flimsey. The concept, I believe is to grip the tab and pull it off. A simple enough inovation. Except that the tab is slipperier than an eel in oil. Try as I might the old thumb and forefinger that was so important for evolution fails to grasp.

Time for the knife again. Cut, cut, cut until jagged edges of the protective layer are all that remains visible. Papa feels so good because of the knowledge that no evil doer had a chance to contaminate his supply of thyme. I can get on with cooking. As soon as the rosemary bottle is opened. Two more stabs and cuts with the knife. Perhaps it is a testament to human stupidity but Papa does try to surge forward without sharp instruments. Fool me once packagers and you’ll keep fooling me.

Brute force seldom works on packaging anymore, Knifes, box cutters, tin snips and scissors have to be nearby. Do good packagers tout hycientic issues and tamper proof concerns for the overkill by their industry. Thus, ultrasonic welding, blister packs and clamshell devices promote ever more dangerous sharp edged instruments for hand use. Try to open bacon or cream cheese without any stabbing/cutting actions. Perforated lines that never tear. Food is one thing but the worst cut suffered came from the impossible to open packaging of a toilet flapper. What is the societal benefit of stopping that item from being touched?

Again, fair warning: major in a packaging degree at college and you are out of the will.

Today Papa watched television coverage of the re-opening of Notre Dame Cathedral. Hope spring back to life was a thought provoked. It marks the first time I’ve ever harbored the thought of visiting France. Well, that’s not entirely true….Normandy is an old dream. Let’s say a first such feeling towards Paris. A magnificent reconstruction. Makes the original building hundreds of years ago all the more amazing. No one recorded by whom or how that construction happened. Yet, a professor type today reported she learned much about the craftsmanship of so long ago by looking at tool cuts into uncovered stone at heights accessed by re-building scaffolds.

Remarkably this is another day on which Papa marvels at being up and at it. Quadruple heart by-pass was 36 years ago. All the stuff I’ve seen. The scary 2000 calendar change in the rear view mirror. ( It was a thing….computers might crash in confusion.) An entire new legal career. A longer retirement than ever thought possible. And, you four rascals. I once tried to track down my heart surgeon to thank him but no success. He’s living on a boat somewhere near Florida is all I learned. Let those skilled hands live in peaceful retirement.

And, of course, December 7th means so much in American history. Read history. Know the history of Pearl Harbor. A man of 104 years of age from Beaverton made the trip back to remember. Took PT so he could stand/participate. When you hear “greatest generation” there is a ton of truth to the moniker.

In my usual flip manner, Papa thought he’d give advance advice on dating by saying, “It’s every man for themselves.”* The phrase has been floating around in my mind for some time. It harkens back to what an erstwhile young attorney thought at a crucial time. I was waiting to use it on an appropriate topic. There was no rush of course. I assumed you’d be as shy and slow as I had been when approaching dating. ( Side Note: Recent news indicate that 80% of boys age 15-18 in Japan have not had a first kiss. Even slower than Papa? ) I am guilty of viewing you as so very young. In the twilight of life it is easy to forget how one felt at age 16. On reflection I was more responsible/mature than seemingly given credit for by adults yet with lots of too big for britches swagger.

So, where do you start on the dating game? Through the lens of age Papa has already come up short. It’s too lete. You rascals have already had your first dates. Homecoming, dances and resturants. I wrongly assumed LEGOs still had your full attention. With school and some sports thrown in I had you pegged at age 12? Age 13 at most. Where did the years go? It seems like it took forever to get from the fifth grade to the sixth for me. You speeded up the process. But, there you are; seasoned daters.

Do I close this post as moot or do I have any advice? Two words come to mind. Respect and consent. Also, keep in mind to smile, be polite, pay attention to date, don’t eat as if at a trough, keep language clean and be yourself. Then share having all your fun with your date. Good luck; it’s every man for himself. Or.**

• (In the halls of the courthouse a young attorney exited divorce court with his client. Relief was in the air. A proverbial meaner than a junk yard dog husband had not attended the divorce hearing. However, the seething, fire breathing hubby was simply running late. He exited an elevator and was fast approaching. He did not care about legal niceties but was looking for angry confrontation. Whether the words were actually spoken or imagined, the young lawyer’s instinct was along the lines of it’s every man for himself. That’s the story he related after the fact when thankfully no damage occurred. Papa learned another appropriate saying after spending a few days with the youngest grandson; **”Run, run as fast as you can.” )

History and politics has always held Papa’s interest. Which takes us back to 1956. I remember two items from that time frame. One was a comment my father made and the other was the novel “The Last Hurrah.” Both involved aging politicians. What my dad said is most relevant to recent events. At the time your Papa had limited experience with old people. There of course was my kindly grandfather and my curmudgeon grandfather. And, old Mr. Thomas who walked by our house on 76th street flashing a smile and wave as he steadied himself with a cane. Of course I saw other old folks who I figured were born before 1937 or so “down by Gimbels” or in church.

Election year 1956 saw a young, energetic man take on a sitting US Senator in Wisconsin’s Republican primary. There was very much a call for “new blood” by the challenger. Alexander Wiley had served three terms in the Senate. I believe it was the Milwaukee Journal that featured a front page photo of the senator a day or two before the primary election. He was walking down a long, dimly lit corridor with a window in the distance. The picture was taken from behind and the senator had his head down, shoulders slouched forward and with a short stride. The image had a being put out to pasture aspect to it. I remember my dad commenting that the photo would garner sympathy and help Wiley get re-nominated. Which he did. His regular election defeat of a future Milwaukee mayor was easier than the primary. That year was the last time a republican carried Milwaukee County in a statewide election.

”The Last Hurrah“ featured the final election campaign of an old warhorse in machine politics. I remember it as a good read. As was the movie shortly there after featuring a great Milwaukee born actor. Without tv, radio or internet I can’t offer judgment on last week’s debate. However, the end of the road feel reminded Papa of 1956 except that the protagonists then, physically feeble as they were, had enough mental acuity left to be credible candidates. It’s hard to gin up sympathy for a lost soul I’m reading about in post debate comments. {NY Times? Wow} Back to whales and sunsets.