Hippies kill again

This weekend in two separate incidents, babies were beaten to death by their moms' boyfriends. There won't be marches or any other public outcry. Only the funerals will draw a crowd. Everything after that gets done in solitude mostly. People I don't know, I give them benefit of doubt.

I presume two mothers will grieve a long time in solitude. If not them, somebody, grandparents, aunts, uncles, somebody. I know the killers will regret their actions as the justice system grinds to the point where the cell door closes, and word gets out among the prison population they killed babies. I may be naive, but I believe somebody will grieve for the baby killers. Just the way we humans are I suppose, but few can accomplish a level of monsterhood so intense that nobody loves them, misses them and hurts over their actions and outcomes.

I can't help but wonder why this happened. How does a grown male reach the point where he can use his fists on a baby? That's just me, Root Cause Analysis David. It's just in me to ask why these precious little ones lost their lives like that.

Some might answer, "Well it's the pressure of being poorly educated, with little purchasing power in a consumer based culture where one's self-esteem seems tied to acquisition. This horrible pressure acts on the most feeble minded like they're canaries in the coal mine, and they become babykillers, etc."

May be some truth in that, and I'd be willing to debate it at the funerals. Me, I HATE the damned sixties. Other than civil rights and some music, not a good thing came from the 1960's. Strip away the trappings and it was all about advancing the idea that a culture could be built around serving only self. Self comes first.

Meth, crack, AIDS, thanks you damned hippies! Babies born out of wedlock, treated to a parade of self-worshipping boyfriends, some of them murderous, wasn't that the logical outcome all along? It's all about self after all, right? Thanks again, you damned hippies.

The highest level of humanity one can attain is this: With a non-martyr heart, look the whole world in the eyes with a sincere smile and lie your ass off, saying, "It's OK, I was going this way anyhow."

The lowest level is to serve only self. Those people are without exception the most miserable individuals I've ever met. For all their grasping, their hands stay empty and their hearts are emptier. And some of them kill babies with their fists.
That's what hippie-think gets you, a culture of emptiness and moral relativism.

No room for Harry?

Some of the media animosity toward Ms. Palin confuses me. Sure, she's pro-gun, anti-gay marriage and anti-abortion, while most people covering her feel strongly the other way. That sounds like a too easy answer.

Perhaps the media reflects an unspoken current felt by many Americans. That current might be we've become comfy with leaders from the ruling class, so we're suspicious of candidates from outside those ranks.

Our 2008 Presidential candidates are of the elite. The last two guys were too. The 2000 election was between two elites. What about Bill Clinton? Hmmm, that ball could break either way I guess. Humble birth, but Rhodes scholar, Georgetown law professor too.

History of Presidential elections implies Americans don't want leaders chosen from among our ranks. After all, what non-elite Presidents have we had lately? Carter for sure. Ford was pretty non-elite too. Nixon was non-elite in his way.
That's my entire list of Presidents during my life time who didn't rise from the ruling class, or go through an extended period of class orientation.
Reagan just an ordinary guy? Give me a break David! Maybe to Frank Sinatra and Jimmy Stewart!

Are we getting where we think the job of President is so hard we regular folks couldn't manage it? Are we getting where we think less of our abilities as regular Americans?

The three ultimate non-elite Presidents have been Jackson, Lincoln and Truman. Two mixed records and a towering figure in human history; not a bad score for average Americans. Ms. Palin deserves every bit of scrutiny she's getting. Politics is a tough business, not for sissies. If she can't take it, even the low blows, she doesn't belong.

But I wonder have we become a country with no room for Harry Trumans? We're now a nation that only likes elites in the Oval Office? Should I tell Huckabee to forget his ambitions? There might be a Lincoln out there somewhere.

Who was Colton Greene?

This beautiful, gawdy thing is now office space for lawyers. But it was built as the Tennessee club. Colton Greene was the man who made it happen. He turned up in St. Louis in the 1850's. He was twenty. He was also penniless, intelligent, charming and very vague about his origins. All he'd say was that he came from South Carolina. By the start of the Civil War he'd amassed a fortune through hard work.

He fought bravely for the losing side in the war. In 1867 he rode into Memphis, again penniless. The river town was pretty hopeless in those days, Yellow Fever was rampant. Greene went into business. Insurance, banking, anything where he could make a dollar. He also turned his hand to the morale of the war ravaged city. He promoted better sanitation, and started a Mardi Gras celebration that revived community spirit. He was just always into something. He organized the Tennessee club to bring together city leaders for charitable and economic cooperation.

There's no record that he ever told anyone about his life before St. Louis. He spoke several languages fluently and quoted Shakespeare with ease. If he ever trusted anyone enough to talk about his family or childhood, he must have trusted well, because they kept his secrets. Colton Greene died in 1900. He left his fortune to various charities. He left me a really cool building to admire, and a mystery that will probably never be solved.

The Vigilists

It's just a pile of stone and glass. It's not supposed to be responsive. Yet, just like falling snow can make an entire city quieter, early Sunday mornings do something to a hospital.

Outside the entrance three middle aged people who look related are standing aside, speaking softly. A young woman paces back and forth, talking on a cell phone. As you pass by she's saying, "I didn't expect all these questions. It's kind of overwhelming you know." In the lobby a teenager is sleeping in a chair, her purse for a pillow and a denim jacket for a blanket. These are the vigilists.

Most are strangers to one another and will remain so, but they have one thing in common. Just right now their lives are frozen in time, waiting for news. The day may pass without news. The news may come and confirm their worst fears. Less than a mile away the world remains its dizzying diversity of activity. Less than a mile away someone feeds the cat then reads the morning paper. Less than a mile away Starbucks employees are arriving at work. In this place though, early Sunday morning is mostly about the vigils.

Of course it's not uniform even here, now. Over by the elevators a family group is all smiles, perhaps discussing a late night delivery from the Stork. Life goes on.

Edwards Group-think

I'm reading articles about how John Edwards is now and ever shall be as popular as a tattoo artist with Parkinsons' and something strikes me odd. I wasn't in a coma during the 1990's and the name "Monica" still rings a bell with me. Yet Bill Clinton will be speaking at the Democratic convention.

So why the difference in how the two affairs are seen? Is it that time has led people to forgive Bill, while the freshness of the Edwards thing won't get him a pass? Nope, it's not that. I remember what people were saying when Clinton was in trouble. They were saying, "It's a private matter, nothing to do with solving the nation's problems." I've every reason to believe Clinton supporters were sincere in their reaction. Yet now some of the very same folks seem equally sincere in their desire to ban Edwards from the planet. I've been wondering about the difference in reactions all weekend.

It could be argued the response is a self-serving effort to cull a rival from the 2012 or 2016 Democratic race. I don't think it's that.

I think the difference in response lies in the personalities of the wronged spouses. Elizabeth Edwards is a mother who has buried one of her children. As a man, I can only approach about a third of the agony that must be to a mother. And Elizabeth keeps battling the cancer that will eventually kill her. A very sympathetic figure. Obviously there is steel in that woman, beneath the soft exterior.

With Hillary, all the steel is on the outside. Nobody can feel sorry for Hillary; she wouldn't allow it, unless it got her votes. That's the decision Hillary made a long time ago, and she's to be respected for it. She's a tough bird in a tough world. But she made a choice she must live with. When Bill cheats on her it's not the same as John cheating on Elizabeth.

Hillary is just a cold person, and she took that course to survive, but she is cold. If all the ice up in the Arctic ever melts like Al Gore predicts, Hillary should be sent there and the place would freeze up immediately. She's a smart, capable woman. She might actually make a good President. But she chose to be cold, perhaps unknowingly. So that's why John Edwards is not welcome at the Democratic convention, but Bill Clinton will speak.

In my De-fence

Here is the way I see it. Should I wake up tomorrow with a burning desire to speak Italian fluently, I hope I try. I may not get there, but I'll be better for the trying. So I took fencing lessons. It didn't work out as a lifelong pursuit, but that's fine. It's not that I want to be a fencer, it's that I want to be a person who is open to new experiences. As we get older our horizons contract, unless we launch a massive counter attack.

Learning about fencing was lots of fun. For one thing I learned that sword fighting in the movies is a bunch of crap. All offense and no defense. A trained swordsman would kill Errol Flynn in fifteen seconds. I also got to meet some interesting people, and was privileged to view a fascinating culture. Now it's time to move on. That's always been one of my faults; I don't "move on" well.

I'm 51 and I'm trying to learn stuff here! Oliver Wendell Holmes said, "Men don't stop playing because they get old. They get old because they stop playing." So I agree with that. There's more important stuff to learn than how to hold a foil, or proper footwork. For me, I have to learn to say, "Well that was nice, what's next?"

Driving in Memphis

That was a great tune by that guy, the guy with the song, whatshisname...
"I was driving in Memphis, knuckles white on my steering wheel.
Yeah I was driving in Memphis, watching out for all of the automobiles."

Or something like that.

Well, I wasn't watching close enough at 7:15 on 7/17/08. Sitting there at the red light minding my own business. WHAM! right in the back end. Then a car that looked as if it'd been to several demolition derbies pulled around on my left, straight through the red light. I wasn't angry at getting hit, but the getaway kind of defeated my composure. The getaway was not to be.

When the light turned green I followed my new friends closely, and dialed 911 to relay the license number. Following them wasn't very hard. Their front fender was crumpled against the tire. The tire was smoking like an AA meeting, and looked like 35mph was best they could manage.

The 911 operator was telling me not to follow them but that was a waste of her time. They finally stopped at a Target parking lot (kinda ironic in a way) and the passenger took great pains to assure me they weren't running really. Well OK, maybe, I guess. When the Police came I explained I was just too excited when talking to the 911 lady; they didn't actually hit & run, they just hit.

So now my wife's car is in the shop. I'm glad nobody got hurt, they make cars every day... well, not in Detroit I mean. But somewhere on this great planet, somebody makes cars every day.

"I was driving in Memphis"....