Second Shot

Where are our leaders?  There are A LOT of people in positions of authority at the Federal, State, and local level that are yapping, flailing, kowtowing, surrendering, apologizing, and of course hiding but where is the true leadership that we expect – and maybe take for granted – as an American birthright (or as voting taxpaying customers)?

It’s been clear for the past few decades that the US citizenry is pretty much adrift, caught between two political parties that have become so divided and divisive that simple common sense decision making appears more like warring adversaries meeting at the truce table, where nothing uttered is acceptable to either side unless it includes complete surrender and an admission of wrong-doing.  Bipartisanship is just a friendly buzzword tossed to an angry constituency to perpetuate the facade of civility.  In fact, American politics is nothing more than a political football game.  Anything the rival side proposes – regardless of merit – is countered, discounted, or dismissed.  The result… abject failure and frustration.

But now we’re at a crossroads.  America has been at this intersection several times before and has miraculously found the right path, in spite of the fact that there is no yellow brick road with a happy mindless scarecrow pointing us in the right direction.  Leadership is now defined by  finger-pointers and chest-pokers who apparently ignore history, turning a blind eye to the past.  Even when implicated in wrongdoing that would get a rule-follower jailed (or worse), the best they can come up with as a defense is falling back to that annoying kid we all knew in grade school that pointed an angry finger and whined, “NO, YOU!”

It doesn’t work anymore.  We’re fed up.  I think there is a general misconception with politicians, the media, and fringe elements that find it acceptable – even appropriate – to violate conventions of society with impunity.  

The behavior has been indulged, even applauded, regardless of how self-serving, destructive and abhorrent.  And while history is rewritten and erased… or smashed… or toppled… and cities and communities are violated, rule-followers watch in shocked disgust – abandoned – left to their own devices to quench the inferno. 

The promise has been broken.  

But leaders have broken more than their promise, they’ve broken a contract.  The government’s chief responsibility is to protect its citizenry from foreign and domestic threats.  In turn they thrive under the protections of their political annuity and taxation.

Leaders have abandoned the rule-followers. Those sworn to protect and serve have been told to stand down – watch – as communities are decimated.  Lawlessness and destruction is now an acceptable societal pressure valve, with the misguided rationale being, protests are like shooting stars that quickly flash and burn out.  It’s simply head-in-the-sand stupidity that discounts the darker side of human nature, gravity, and the laws of physics… specifically those pertaining to wildfires: they spread and indiscriminately consume everything if not quenched immediately.

But that simile could be countered by the web-weavers that would argue that wildfires take care of dead useless overgrowth and underbrush that has been ignored and left untended.

OK, but at what expense and to whom?  American history?  National security?  Liberty? Life savings and investments in one’s community?  The loss of “the American way?”

I believe there is the dire misconception with our leaders that the silent majority will stand quietly idle with clenched teeth while a fraction of our population has a destructive tantrum.  It’s a dangerously false assumption that will end badly.  Americans are – and have always been – a slow burn.  History has shown that when pushed to the point of no escape Americans will fight with devastating hate, unable to simply “turn off” retribution.  This is nothing new.  American history has documented remarkable pacifism until life and liberty are threatened.  

But where and when does it end?  Democrats and Republicans are in a self-serving stalemate while Rome burns.  Both parties clearly understand that law and order needs to be restored through intervention by true leadership.  

So why hasn’t it happened… yet?

Because everyone knows America has become a tinderbox that’s been shoved too close to a space heater through decades of failed leadership.  Both parties are to blame.  Neither wants to take the forceful steps necessary to quell rebellion, especially with an election looming.

Neither party wants to be culpable for the second shot heard round the world.

I fear it’s coming.

Dump the Kool-Aid

We’ve all had that friend that gets wasted and talks like an idiot; enduring someone’s incoherent rambling about the plight of baby seals and how knees are a terrible design – especially for flamingos – and how the world would somehow be better synced if they were king.

We indulge – no, tolerate – the annoyance out of friendship.  ‘Cause that’s what friends do.  We listen, laugh or politely agree just to keep them from drifting into the rat-trap realm of politics and religion while figuring out a way to discretely snag their car keys and stuff them into an Uber.

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Mele Kalikimaka

“LET’S MAKE CHRISTMAS COOKIES AND WATCH HALLMARK SHOWS!” Bekki said excitedly.  “IT’LL BE FUN!”

Define “fun” I thought as I watched the mayhem unfold.  (Note to self:  If I ever build another house the kitchen will have a floor drain and at least two garden hose connections on the walls.)

As projects go (and I have A LOT of them pending before the holidays) Christmas cookies sounded fun.  But then I remembered the territorial hockey game that happens every time Bekki and I find ourselves in the kitchen at the same time.  Quite simply, I get ass-nudged and hip checked around our puny work island until I draw a foul and find myself in the penalty box.  I’ve realized over the past several years that kitchen hockey is a lifeskill Bek acquired from her mother; a passive aggressive domain claim, like grizzly bears clawing trees to mark their territory.

I walked into the kitchen finding several bowls of pastel colored Easter frosting.  Soupy thin by frosting standards but everyone has their secret recipes for stuff.  I spooned out a few teaspoons of the watery mess into a couple of small bowls, thickened it with spoonfuls of powdered sugar, and made my own colors. I like bright colors.  It must be a guy thing.

I learned I was doing it wrong.  Before this project I didn’t know frosting is supposed to “soak in.”

I watched the master baker create.  

“What’s that?” I asked, looking at one of her creations.

“A crab!” Bekki said, looking over her glasses with a big smile.

“REALLY BEK?  A Christmas crab?  It’s supposed to be Santa.  You have it sideways,” I said.

She paused for a few seconds, staring at her creation.  “Well the cutters aren’t marked.  How am I supposed to know what that thing’s supposed to be! Are you gonna be all critical or are you going to make some?”

I reluctantly picked up a cookie.  The goalie immediately came outta the box and blocked my every move.

Instead of falling into the predictable territorial grizzly kitchen trap, I employed Christmas guy-psychology. Call it “guycology.”

 It worked.

“THAT’S NOT CHRISTMASSY!  YOU RUIN EVERYTHING!” She said, taking a picture of my creation to share with her friends to validate that I am indeed the Grinch.

“Come on Bek, It’s very Chrismassy!  I call it mele kalikimaka!” I said, moving the little hula dancer and singing the only words that I know to the song… the title.

As projects go, it was fun to watch Bekki get in the holiday spirit and make Christmas crabs.  I’m almost certain there will be a second round of holiday baking when the kids come home.

Mele Kalikimaka to all!

Fightin’ Words

Words are everywhere. New ones. Neologisms. I can’t help but notice them. Especially ones that make me pause and attempt to process… with no possible resolution.  Like trying to remember important birthdays or my dentist appointment.

The problem is that there’s more of them.  Combinations of words put together to Frankenstein-up speech when other simpler language doesn’t convey enough emotion to satisfy our more in-tune culture.  Like when I smack my elbow on a door frame and a simple yipe and four-letter word isn’t enough to relieve my pain pressure valve.  And because I’m a master at self-inflicted pain – and I watch pro football – I’ve become a certified cuss-smith.

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The Bony Cold Shoulder

Something happened with hugs.  It happened in a short span of time; the leapfrog period of my youth till now.  Hugs for me are a personal connection between family and close friends, when a handshake is not enough and a kiss is too much (or inappropriate).  

But something happened.  A hug evolution.  Hugs used to be a full-frontal embrace: A greeting  or goodbye.  Consensual physical contact between willing participants, with a brief – or prolonged (depending on context) – arm wrap, like two constrictors meeting in the rainforest.

Most hugs now are sterile…tentative.  Hugs are one of the things in life that require full participation.  You have to be all-in.  Anything less is like parking crooked between the lines.

The new evolved hug is a tentative lean-in sideways shoulder bump.  It’s more like two big horn sheep meeting on the side of mountain than an embrace.  And because I’m an “all-in” hug guy, I invariably find myself with my arms around someone that has their shoulder stuck in the center of my chest and their head recoiling in the opposite direction.  It’s the new sideways hug.  

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