The Presidential Address to Congress of December 8, 1941

Mr. Vice President, Mr. Speaker, members of the Senate and the House of Representatives: Yesterday, December 7th, 1941 — a date which will live in infamy — the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.

The United States was at peace with that nation, and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with its Government and its Emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific. Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in the American island of Oahu, the Japanese Ambassador to the United States and his colleague delivered to our Secretary of State a formal reply to a recent American message. And while this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or of armed attack.

It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time the Japanese Government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace.

The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian Islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. I regret to tell you that very many American lives have been lost. In addition American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu.

Yesterday the Japanese Government also launched an attack against Malaya.

Last night Japanese forces attacked Hong Kong.

Last night Japanese forces attacked Guam.

Last night Japanese forces attacked the Philippine Islands.

Last night the Japanese attacked Wake Island.

And this morning the Japanese attacked Midway Island.

Japan has, therefore, undertaken a surprise offensive extending throughout the Pacific area. The facts of yesterday and today speak for themselves. The people of the United States have already formed their opinions and well understand the implications to the very life and safety of our nation.

As Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy, I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense.

But always will our whole nation remember the character of the onslaught against us. No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory.

I believe that I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost but will make it very certain that this form of treachery shall never again endanger us.

Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger.

With confidence in our armed forces—with the unbounding determination of our people—we will gain the inevitable triumph—so help us God.

I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7th, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire.

Failure Is Not An Option

I'm proof against that word failure. I've seen behind it. The only failure a man ought to fear is failure of cleaving to the purpose he sees to be best.

Novelist George Eliot, a.k.a. Mary Anne Evans, a.k.a. Marian Lewes

19 Nov 1863, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate, we can not consecrate, we can not hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

President Abraham Lincoln

Up Sh*t Creek?

I believe the appropriate metaphor here involves a river of excrement and a Native American water vessel without any means of propulsion. 

Sheldon to Penny in The Big Bang Theory, "The Lizard-Spock Expansion"

Hope

Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are.

St. Augustine

Political Satire Alert!

No drug, not even alcohol, causes the fundamental ills of society. If we're looking for the source of our troubles, we shouldn't test people for drugs, we should test them for stupidity, ignorance, greed and love of power.

Political Satirist PJ O'Rourke

I Second This Endorsement, Albeit 500 Years Later

Who loves not woman, wine, and song remains a fool his whole life long. 

Martin Luther

Perhaps This Is Where We Are, Historically

Democracy never lasts long. It soon wastes, exhausts and murders itself. There was never a democracy that did not commit suicide.

Second President of the United States, John Adams

Language

A description of language as something beautiful . . . it is:

a bouquet of discrete understandings

Ojibwe novelist David Treuer

 

Are We Lost And Alone?

"We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men; we are crude and sorrowful and superficial — I believe we are lost."

Erich Maria Remarque, author of All Quiet on the Western Front

We are hard pressed, but we are not crushed
We are struck down but not destroyed
Cause no matter what may happen
We are not abandoned
We are not alone

Carolyn Arends, Not Alone, Polyanna's Attic

No, we're not.

Winnie-the-Pooh

My daily e-Mail message from The Writer's Almanac (here) tells me that Winnie-the-Pooh, by A. A. Milne, was published on 14 Oct 1926.

I cannot tell you how much influence the Pooh characters have had in the development of the life of my youngest son, Timothy. Well, Tim, nowadays. He's 24, and no longer a little boy. In fact, he's a Critical Care Medic, and someone who you'd probably want "in your corner" when you are the critically ill patient.

Our lives were filled with Pooh books, Pooh videos and Pooh stuffed animals for a long, long time. Tim even got to hug a real live Pooh Bear when we went to Disneyworld way back when. Now, so many years later, I sometimes can't help but get teary-eyed when I think back on it.

My thanks to the author, who, I just found out (through his Wikipedia entry), died the same year I was born. And thanks to Disney who picked up the stories . . .

Quotation :: How Boys Think

I, personally, think this is right on:

I suppose if there is anything more exciting to a young boy than an ocean liner, it is an ocean liner sinking.

Historian and Nonfiction Author Walter Lord

Rest in Peace, Steve Jobs

Have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

Laughter

"Laughter is the hand of God on the shoulder of a troubled world."

Humorist and Southern Baptist minister Grady Nutt 

The Greatest Thing Since . . .

7 Jul 2011 - Sliced bread was sold for the first time on this date in 1928. Up until that time, consumers baked their own bread, or bought it in solid loaves.

Otto Frederick Rohwedder, a jeweler from Davenport, Iowa, had been working for years perfecting an eponymous invention, the Rohwedder Bread Slicer. He tried to sell it to bakeries. They scoffed, and told him that pre-sliced bread would get stale and dry long before it could be eaten. He tried sticking the slices together with hatpins, but it didn't work.

Finally he hit on the idea of wrapping the bread in waxed paper after it was sliced. Still no sale, until he took a trip to Chillicothe, Missouri, and met a baker who was willing to take a chance. Frank Bench agreed to try the five-foot-long, three-foot-high slicing and wrapping machine in his bakery. The proclamation went out to kitchens all over Chillicothe, via ads in the daily newspaper: "Announcing: The Greatest Forward Step in the Baking Industry Since Bread was Wrapped — Sliced Kleen Maid Bread." Sales went through the roof.

Rohwedder not only gave Americans the gift of convenience and perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but he also provided the English language with the saying that expresses the ultimate in innovation: "the greatest thing since sliced bread."

Courtesy of The Writer's Almanac

The View From Kari's

At Kristiansand, Sat, 18 Jun 2011

Sidsel, Nancy, Vivian, Sonja, Mette, Kari and Kerry in Kristiansand, Norway.

Paris 2011, at the Eiffel Tower

Tomorrow :: A Quotation

"Tomorrow is the most important thing in life. Comes into us at midnight very clean. It's perfect when it arrives and it puts itself into our hands. It hopes we've learned something from yesterday."

Actor John Wayne

Your Story :: A Quotation

"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."

Dr. Maya Angelou

And So It Did: A Quotation

"Is there not some reason to expect that the discovery will greatly change the commercial and personal intercourse of the country?"

Samuel Morey, who received a patent for the internal combustion engine, 1 Apr 1826

And So Much Better: A Quotation

"You know, when you're a kid, they tell you it's all 'grow up, get a job, get married, get a house, have a kid and that's it.'

No.

Truth is, the world is so much stranger than that. It's so much darker. And so much madder.

And so much better . . ."

Writer Russell T. Davies, from the 2006 Doctor Who episode "Love & Monsters"

On Life; A Quotation

"My grandfather always said that living is like licking honey off a thorn."

Author Louis Adamic

On Old Age; a Quotation.

"Old age isn't a battle, old age is a massacre."

Philip Roth, in Everyman

Good-bye Facebook

So this is the night on which I'm pulling the plug on Facebook. (This post will be cross-referenced to my site.) Why? A couple of reasons. First, I pretty much talk to many of the people I'm friends with fairly often . . . they're friends, and they're local. Second, I don't have that much to say.

So, good-bye Facebook.

If anyone needs to write me, I'm at Mark_Dopita@Yahoo.com.

A 31-Cent Gift

I'm kinda embarrassed. And kinda not.

I was in line at the grocery store today, when one of the employees came up to buy a simple bag of chips ("crisps" to you in the UK; I like that). It turns out that she didn't have any money with her, so she told the checker that she'd have to put it on her debit card. I was packing my groceries into the large, gray, plastic tub I use in place of plastic grocery bags (hate 'em) and overheard the conversation.

After insisting on paying the 31-cent cost of the chips, the employee insisted that she pay me back. "Not to mind," I told her. No problem. No worries. Consider it a Christmas gift. A New Years present. Pay it forward. "When's your birthday?" I asked. "Consider it an early present."

I don't know if I was more embarrassed to have her insist on paying me back - I hope she doesn't, actually - or if I was more sad that she didn't have even 31 cents in her pocket. A simple kindness, which was surpassed by tens of thousands or "larger" kindnesses around the world today, no doubt.

My wife and I have been there - one year after Christmas we had all of $47.00 to our name. To be sure, we also had a house - with its mortgage, property taxes and utility bills; two cars - with their insurance, gas and repair costs; and four kids - with their clothing, schooling, doctor and dental bills. And we were working, which solves a lot of monetary ills. So I understand.

Or am I getting too far away from life-as-it-is for many: living week-to-week, paycheck-to-paycheck?

Quotation: Preparation

"Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity."

I love this quote! I find it attributed to many different people, but one of the oldest is Seneca (the Younger), a Roman philosopher, politician and dramatist.

I've spent my life getting education on various things, especially things surrounding my job as a computer programmer and analyst. I learned COBOL, IMS DB/DC, CICS, DB2 & SQL, LotusScript, Java, HTML, JavaScript, CSS, C++, XML, XSL, SAP's Java Web Dynpro, project management techniques, structured analysis and structured design. And I was ready for the "next assignment".

The way I think about it, if you want to make yourself valuable to your employer, educate yourself. And stay on top of your education needs.

Oh, and Another Thing

It may be that there are one or more new hips in my future. Doctor visit this month will tell the tale . . .

2010 : A Poor Year for Blog Posts

Lookit that - four posts last year. Don't I have more to say than that? Let's see what this year will bring. Potential posts include (cue the preview music):

• A 30th wedding anniversary
• Dad's 90th birthday
• Two 55th birthdays
• A new niece (due in February)
• A neat vacation (more detail on that later)
• The trips to open and close our friends' cabin in northern Wisconsin
• Implementation of SAP NetWeaver Portal at work, replacing our current Intranet (something about which I don't normally post)
• New quotations
• Chicago sports failures (and successes, I hope)
• Notes on plays we're going to see
• A new car (perhaps)
• Some writing (poems, lyrics)
• Some songs (if I can get them recorded)

So . . . let's see where we go with this!

Hello 2011!

"Just think of what it's gonna be like when we're 25!"

I said that back in 1974, when sitting with a bunch of friends in front of a house in Mount Prospect, Illinois, the year many of us graduated from high school.

We turned 25 in 1981, just about 30 years ago.

Seems that everyone tells you, around the time your kids are born, should you have any, "Pay attention, because before you know it, they're going to be all grown up." Now that my kids are grown, I can echo that sentiment to everyone else.

Let me write a corollary: Pay attention, because, before you know it, you're going to be (what used to be called) middle-aged.

What does 55 feel like? In my mind, I don't feel "old". I do recognize that both my hips need to be replaced, and that I'm way-overweight, that I couldn't play a quarter of a touch-football game even if I wanted to, but that doesn't mean I don't feel the same as I did back in '74.

Time sure does fly.

Now it seems that I've got that "yearning deep within me, telling me there's more to come", to paraphrase one of my favorite singer/songwriters. so, perhaps, it's time to take inventory of the good and the bad, work on making the good even better and making the bad good.

Hello 2011! Thanks for making me sit up and take notice.

San Diego

As I happen to be there this week, these quotes are timely:

Truman Capote said, "It's a scientific fact that if you stay in California you lose one point of your IQ ever year."

Alison Lurie said, "As one went to Europe to see the living past, so one must visit Southern California to observe the future."

San Francisco poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti called Southern California the place "where the American Dream came too true."

Too true, indeed, and there are so many here sharing it!

2921 North Keating Avenue, Chicago, IL

My parents lived at this address for several years before we moved to Mount Prospect. I had not been there, ever, since that time, though I had always wanted to drive there and see the place. This past weekend I did.

After leaving my daughter's new apartment on the southeast edge of the Logan Square neighborhood, just off California between Fullerton and Armitage, knowing that the expressway out of town was jammed, driving stop-and-go for who-knows-how-long, I travelled north on California until I came to Milwaukee, then turned left.

Very interesting driving down Milwaukee - lot of shops, mostly open, though with far too many stores shuttered and empty. Lots of signs in Spanish. Traffic was light and driving was pleasant, with the temperature in the mid-80's; it seemed a requirement to open the windows and drive with my arm resting in the sun.

The signs would soon start to be posted in English, Spanish and Polish ("Mowimy po polsku" - "we speak Polish") when I cam upon a sight nobody ever wants to see. A motorcycle lay on its side in the middle of an intersection, with police cars and a couple of ambulances parked around it.

Traffic was being routed slowly through the intersection; by the time I was close enough to see anything the unfortunate rider was hoisted up onto a gurney and rushed to the back of one of the ambulances. "Meat wagons" we used to call them, jokingly. Faced with the absolute certainty that this poor rider was hurt badly, that term didn't seem to fit - humor didn't enter into the picture.

I proceeded past the accident, on down to Belmont Ave., 3200 north on the imaginary grid that Chicago is placed on. Since Keating is a one-way street southbound, I had to pass the 2900 block and circle back. Thoughts of the accident had melted away as I'd continued my drive, and Belmont came up quickly. I turned left onto Belmont, heading west, and started looking for Keating.

This was a part of the city where all of the street names started with the same letter - "K". I passed Karlov and Keeler; Kearsarge and Kildare; Lowell - who goofed this up?; Kostner, Kenneth, Kilbourne, Kolmar, Knox and Kilpatrick, and turned left onto Keating.

Parked cars lined the street on both sides, leaving only a narrow passage for my little Honda Fit. How in the world did cars of the 50's, 60's and early 70's fit down this street, I wondered. Perhaps they simply bumped along, knocking into cars on one side, then another, like a pinball. Maybe they weren't as big as I imagined, or perhaps you could only park on one side of the street in the old days.

Traveling slowly - not used to driving with sentry-lines of cars on either side - I pulled over into a specially-reserved handicapped parking space to let an anxious driver go past. I have to tell you, I had feelings welling up inside of me that I don't really understand, driving down this street to our old apartment.

As I approached the building at 2921 I noted that the only parking space open on the entire block was open right in front of that building. Timing is everything, they say, or perhaps that spot was reserved specially for me being there that day. Who knows? (Something else to ask God when I die.)

I took the time to make sure my phone was off and my iPod was off and hidden in the glove compartment before I opened the door and stepped out of the car. I stood in the sunlight, looking at that building and searched for - what? Something . . . some connection to the past. Perhaps it was not something I should have expected, as I was not even three when we moved, but I have heard so many things about living there, over the years, and have seen the pictures of us living there . . . I thought I should feel . . . something, some connection.

An old man - far older than my 54 years, but perhaps not even my father's age - sat just inside the door of the building, smoking a cigarette. He looked like he had had a hard life. Grizzled. Un-shaven. Stooped-over while sitting on the chair, he had looked at me suspiciously when I pulled up. I wanted to stop and talk to him; I wanted to yell out, "I used to live here!"; I wanted to tell somebody, for some reason I still don't understand.

Un-willing to simply get back in my car and leave, I walked down the block to the corner, crossed the street, and started back up the block on the other side. Some people were talking next to a car parked on the street. They seemed not to notice me; I didn't stop to talk to them. When I got to the point directly across the street from our old building, I crossed over to the other side, past my car, to the sidewalk. The old man looked right at me. "Good afternoon. How are you?" I said. He simply looked at me.

I turned and walked to the other end of the block, still feeling the need to say something, but found nobody to talk with. I looked at the buildings on the rest of the block. While none of the seemed to be in tremendous dis-repair, and some seemed quite nicely maintained, the evidence that this was a neighborhood on, perhaps, a downward spiral seemed evident.

Almost all of the blinds hanging in each picture window were torn. Where there were shades, each seemed also to hang at the wrong angle, or to be old and worn. Where the builders had placed stonework to hold planter boxes (these building were built in the early-to-middle 1910's, I understand), few flowers were even planted in the ground, and no planters were seen.

Yet, life was there. A young Hispanic mother passed by me, pushing an infant in a stroller. A nicely-dressed teenage girl left her home a couple of doors ahead of me, walking over to a car where a young man waited for her. An older woman and her younger companion walked past me and nodded - a smattering of Spanish would have helped me, here. And the grass was green. Many of the parkway trees had been re-planted, and the other, older trees formed a cooling canopy over much of the sidewalk.

As I approached the old man, he asked me a question in Polish (or at least what I thought was Polish). I walked to the bottom of the stairs. He repeated his question, but I answered, "I'm sorry. I don't speak Polish."

He looked down at me sadly. "I used to live here," I said. "Back when I was two, over fifty years ago."

I smiled at him, walked over to my car, looked one more time at that building and drove . . . home.

And Now, on Wid'a Da Show

Thank you Lawrence Welk.

It has been too long since I wrote a blog post, and I'd like to say that I'll do better, but can only really say that I'll try to do better.

So much has happened in the past few months that I suppose I can't really even remember it all. That's what this blog was for - to help me remember when I get older and grayer. (Should I have said "older and more gray"? Seems to me it sounds better the first way.)

In any case, the next "real" post is coming . . . hang tight.

Deacon's Redemption

As part of the fifty-year anniversary of our church, our contemporary church band is playing songs originally released in the 1960's, 1970's, 1980's, 1990's and 2000's. But they're not necessarily what you think - in the first two cases they're rewrites of two secular songs. It's the second of those of which I'm most proud. After all, how often do you hear Steely Dan in church?

While I write some instrumental music and have written a few songs, I often find inspiration inside the lyrics of other people's songs, too; inspiration that points me to "what might have been" in the story they tell, rather than what is presented.

There can be no doubt that Deacon Blues (from the Aja album) is a great song, from two perspectives: the music is top notch and the lyrics tell the story perfectly well. Coming from a Christian perspective, though, I was inspired to redeem the main character. There's enough darkness in the world today - drug addiction, alcohol abuse, sexual immorality - and not enough light. That's my perspective, anyway.

So, for our 1970's song, I rewrote the story into what might have been. We added this song to our last worship service in February, where it was well-received. In the future, I hope to add it to a Jazz and Blues Service I'm trying to finish.

Here are the lyrics:

Deacon's Redemption

This is the day
Our great God made for Man
And in His grace
There may I ever stand
Could it be only yesterday
Dark was the glass
A sinner,
No winner
Thank God that’s the past

I once was a fool
I lived for myself alone
Had no need of help,
I’d work it out on my own
So useless at life was I
Thought I’d take my own and die
Then Heaven stepped in
I realized all my sin, I

Learned to love the Lord and pray
Think about Him every day
Drink His word in like a song
It’s He who makes me strong
They got a name for the winners in the world
People who got no complaint
I used to be wearin’ those Deacon Blues,
Now just call me a saint (no complaint)

When I was young
The world seemed alive to me
I’d find success
I’d be what I want to be
Searched for a thing to know and love
But what did I find?
Drinking,
Not thinking
Took over my mind

I crawled through the depths
Not what a life should be
The love of the Lord
Finally broke through to me
I came to my senses then
In a world that has no end
I’ll never more roam
One day I’ll call Heaven home, I

Learned to love the Lord and pray
Think about Him every day
Drink His word in like a song
It’s He who makes me strong
They got a name for the winners in the world
People who got no complaint
I used to be wearin’ those Deacon Blues,
Now just call me a saint (no complaint)

When comes the night
And my time here is through
I’ll say I found success
I found a heart that’s true
Don’t cry when I leave this place
To gaze on His holy face
In Jesus I’m free
Free for eternity

Learned to love the Lord and pray
Think about Him every day
Drink His word in like a song
It’s He who makes me strong
They got a name for the winners in the world
People who got no complaint
I used to be wearin’ those Deacon Blues,
Now just call me a saint (no complaint)

On This Date in (Mark's) Automotive History

The 2007 Honda Fit - the car I'm currently driving, which replaced a 1996 Dodge full-size van - turned over 50,000 miles today. It's a silver Sport model, though I don't think of it as a sporty car, to be honest. It's all of three cylinders and five forward gears in the automatic transmission, four small tires and an iPod jack.

That's my car - it's Chicago, and the Blues Brothers, and old jazz, Louie Armstrong, Dave McKenna, Kristen Chenoweth, Broadway musicals, Dr. Demento, The Beatles, Deep Purple, Cheap Trick and Steely Dan; it's Rich Mullins, Sierra and, not the least, eight sets of Carolyn Arends, she of relative minor fame who deserves relative major fame.

And, truth be told, it's also 23 sets of Frank Zappa and three of Black Sabbath; podcasts of NPR's Fresh Air, Car Talk, Science Friday and A Prairie Home Companion, Old Time Radio Comedies and Old Time Radio Thrillers (138 and 143 of the latter two, respectively). And it's Bill Cosby, Larry the Cable Guy, Woody Allen, the 2000 Year Old Man, Allan Sherman, Eric Idle/Monty Python and 19 other comedians.

All told, it's 5,764 songs and 535 podcasts.

Here's a sample of what I heard at lunch time:

• A segment of Dean Martin's Las Vegas show from 1966 or '67
• Bye Bye, Love - Simon and Garfunkel
• Not Alone - Carolyn Arends
• Truck Drivin' Song - Weird Al Yankovic
• Drive My Car - The Beatles
• American Woman - The Guess Who
• Dancing Days - Led Zepplin
• Ain't Misbehavin' - Leon Redbone
• Mighty River - Louis Armstrong
• A segment from Larry the Cable Guy
• Sweet Thing - Van Morrison
• All is Well - Carolyn Arends
• Loves Me Like a Brother - The Guess Who
• Love Was New - Chicago
• Oye Como Va - Santana
• Oh, What a Beautiful Morning - Oklahoma Cast Album
• The Boston Rag - Steely Dan
• In My Life - Bette Midler
• If Love Is Trouble - Dizzy Gillespie
• I Need You - The Beatles
• The Andy Griffith Show Theme
• Love From a Heart of Gold - How to Succeed in Business Cast Album
• Soap Theme (TV Show)

Chicago, As It Was

Hog Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders:
They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I have seen your painted women under the gas lamps luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to kill again.
And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the faces of women and children I have seen the marks of wanton hunger.
And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the little soft cities;
Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking, rebuilding,
Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with white teeth,
Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young man laughs,
Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has never lost a battle,
Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse, and under his ribs the heart of the people, Laughing!
Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.

Poet Carl Sandburg in Chicago Poems, 1916

Love This Lyric . . .

. . . from West of Hollywood, Steely Dan

I'm way deep into nothing special,
Riding the crest of a wave beaking just west of Hollywood


Way deep into nothing special??? Sounds cynical to me.

In My Fifties, Looking Back to High School

". . . one finds, especially by the time one reaches one's fifties, that there are a limited number of types of people in the world, and you went to high school with every single one of them. You can visit the Eskimos, you can visit the Bushmen in the Kalahari, you can go to Israel, you can go to Egypt, but everybody you meet is going to be somebody you went to high school with."

Humorist P.J. O'Rourke

I don't know if this is especially true - perhaps it's just because I'm not observant enough - but I do know that I look back to high school every now and then. It's funny, isn't it, that we spend some 17-18 years growing up, moving through grade school, middle school and high school, and then find ourselves looking back from twice that distance (35 years for me), thinking about those years.

Shouldn't my high school years be overshadowed by things that came after? Four years in my life versus all that came with a 28-year marriage, four kids, a career, nice home, et al. But here I sit on the couch, reading the PJ O'Rourke quotation and I find myself walking the halls at Prospect High School, completing a verb quiz in German class, intercepting a pass during gym, driving my '67 Olds through the neighborhood, finding that I don't fit in everywhere, working at the A&P, drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon at the beach with the gang . . . It couldn't have been as much fun as I remember it was, could it?

And the really funny thing is that I know my dad generally feels the same way - especially when we talk about growing up in Plainville, Kansas - and he graduated 71 years ago!

And the Name Is . . .

"Bishop's Gate"

Yes, this is the name of the band which will be performing a reprise of the "Beatles Service" I wrote for church. Bishopsgate is written into a line in the song Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite - "The celebrated Mr. K. performs his feat on Saturday at Bishopsgate".

I should note that we didn't have a name the first time we did the service.

“Bishopsgate” itself is a road in London, named for one of the seven original gates in the city wall. (See the wikipedia.org article here for a more lengthy description.)

The band members are on board; next, I have to talk to upper-management at church - the senior pastor. We're not going to do this during an actual service time. It's to be scheduled after a pot-luck dinner on a Saturday night. This frees us from the approx. 60-minute limitation of Sunday morning. Indeed, I think I'll add a little more!

Time: Perhaps This Is What I've Been Trying To Say

“I have begun to suspect that time is, in some sense I don’t yet fully comprehend, subjective to the viewer. What a day signifies to me is quite different than what it signifies to you. How strange my day might seem, were I able to see it through your eyes.”

“When we are young . . . the days crawl by. I remember summers of my youth that seemed to last for generations. But as we grow older, the months and years flit by like dragonflies, one after another in their dozens. But by the calendar, a day is still a day, is it not? Why is it, do you suppose, that the duration of a span of time should seem so different to us in one circumstance than another?”

The character Ling Xuan in Chris Roberson’s short story,

“The Sky Is Large And The Earth Is Small”.

The Beatles Service: Reprise

So. . .people - namely my wife Nancy and friend Carol - are after me to do The Beatles Service again. For those of you who don't know - and you are without number - I wrote an entire church service using the music of the Beatles and re-written lyrics. We ran it at all four services (Saturday night and three on Sunday) the week after Easter in 2007. Then we added one more service for the confirmation kids.

I had a lot of people tell me how much they liked it - that was nice. But the best compliment I received was from one of our (now) pastors. She said, "I want to tell you that this was the best service I have ever been to at Messiah, and I've been to a lot!" That was nice . . .

So we're looking at a Saturday night "extra" service, as it's sometimes difficult to schedule things within the framework the ELCA provides our churches. And now I'm thinking, "Why do only an hour's worth of Beatles music?" I have a lot of music I'd like to do, and three drama's as well (all musical). We could make it a full two hours! Why not? If you're going to do it, do it right!

We'll see what happens . . .

Eternity

"Do not try to live for ever. You will not succeed."

"What is life but a series of inspired follies? The difficulty is to find them to do. Never lose a chance: it doesn't come every day."

"I want to be thoroughly used up when I die, for the harder I work, the more I live. Life is no 'brief candle' for me. It is a sort of splendid torch which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible before handing it on to future generations."

George Bernard Shaw

A Tribute to Mediocrity

"Only the mediocre can always be at their best."

As heard on Car Talk on National Public Radio.

Remember Willy Loman?

"For a salesman, there is no rock bottom to the life. He don't put a bolt to a nut, he don't tell you the law or give you medicine. He's a man way out there in the blue, riding on a smile and a shoeshine."

The character Willy Loman from Arthur Miller's "Death of a Salesman"

Top Ten Ways to Increase Church Attendance

Tonight's "Top Ten List" comes to us courtesy of my friend Louie da Garbage Man who found this in the Pope’s garbage and sent it to his cousin, who sent it to his uncle, who sent it to his bookie, who sent it to me . . . .

From the home office in Vatican City . . .

Number 10: New rule: No more Broccoli on Fridays during Lent

Number 9. Official language of the church now igPay atinLay

Number 8. Services piped on closed circuit TV to nearest Sports Bar

Number 7. Priests to be addressed as “dad”

Number 6. Bible replaced with “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten”

Number 5. Sins can be redeemed with Betty Crocker coupons

Number 4. No more nuns – bunnies!

Number 3. For each parishioner: Christmas bonus checks!

Number 2. Communion to feature bratwurst and beer

And tonight's number one way to increase church attendance . . .

Next Pope will be Jewish!

Originally written for Pastor Chuck Merkner's 20th anniversary at Messiah Lutheran Church in Wauconda, IL in February, 2006.

On Chicago's Bid for the Olympics

Excerpts from the weekly podcast of NPR commentator Frank Deford:

Poor Chicago, odds-on favorite to host the Games in 2016, is thrown out on its keister by the International Olympic Committee, a cabal that loathes the United States only slightly less than do the Taliban and Roman Polanski.

As for that quadrennial global reality show, Chicago's abject rejection is no one's fault here - not the President's, not Oprah's; for once we can't even blame the Cubs. Rather, the greasy antics of the International Olympic Committee make Chicago's own fabled politics look by comparison like Periclean Athens. The IOC members still hold it against the United States that the Atlanta Olympics were so tacky, and that the Salt Lake City Olympics highlighted the IOC corruption that has so often attended the selection of host cities.

Forget it, America; any US metropolis that may be pondering a bid for the 2012 Olympics would be more wisely advised to petition St. Augustine to become the designated City of God. It would have a much better chance to earn that distinction.

"Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour."

"Lies are a lubricant in the social machine. They ease the friction when two moving parts mesh imperfectly."

From Babel's Fall'n Glory We Fled, Michael Swanwick

A Good Word: Poignant

1 : pungently pervasive
2 a (1) : painfully affecting the feelings : piercing (2) : deeply affecting : touching b : designed to make an impression : cutting
3 a : pleasurably stimulating b : being to the point : apt

synonyms see pungent, moving

---

I have recently gotten onto Facebook and have connected with a friend from grade school (who I had lunch with today) and another from high school. I graduated high school 35 years ago, and have now had various memories brought back into focus from 1974 and earlier. The word poignant - as in both painfully affecting the feelings and deeply affecting/touching - seems to fit the bill as the perfect word to use.

Here am I, from 1972, ready to take on the world! Notice the smile . . .

We Interrupt This Broadcast . . .Breaking News!

But only good news! My son Tim passed his Paramedic exams, and daughter Amy and son-in-law Matt have successfully bid on a house!

Lord, I feel old . . . great!

Words To Live By?

“Any idiot can face a crisis; it is this day-to-day living that wears you out.”

Writer Anton Chekov

“One must think like a hero to behave like a merely decent human being.”

Author May Sarton

“Since it is difficult to join them together, it is safer to be feared than to be loved when one of the two must be lacking.”

“The fact is that a man who wants to act virtuously in every way necessarily comes to grief among so many who are not virtuous.”

Philosopher Niccolò Machiavelli

This Guy Got It Right

"There is no fun in doing nothing when you have nothing to do. … Idleness, like kisses, to be sweet must be stolen."

English author and Dramatist Jerome K. Jerome

How Soon They Grow Up

That's what everyone tells you . . . and it's true. Tim and Amy in this photo, the day after Amy's wedding. The "shutter shades" went with the 80's band that rocked the reception. "XC" on Tim's shirt means "cross country"; the "W" stands for Wauconda. Get the message?

Note the talented beer bottle grip that holds not only the bottle, but also the cap.

Gotta luv em!

You Am What You Is

"Homo sapiens [are] a tiny twig on an improbable branch of a contingent limb on a fortunate tree."

Naturalist and Science Writer Stephen Jay Gould

A Study in Opposites

"No matter how much a woman loved a man, it would still give her a glow to see him commit suicide for her."

American Satirist H. L. Mencken

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of being an ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's

Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right.

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion to put use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints—I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..."

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

(Public domain. )

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edna St. Vincent Millay
I saw that name in print today
Some notes about the Sonnet form
Ten syllables; that is the norm
But not for me

A Poem: Foreseeing

Foreseeing

by Sharon Bryan

Middle age refers more
to landscape than to time:
it's as if you'd reached

the top of a hill
and could see all the way
to the end of your life,

so you know without a doubt
that it has an end—
not that it will have,

but that it does have,
if only in outline—
so for the first time

you can see your life whole,
beginning and end not far
from where you stand,

the horizon in the distance—
the view makes you weep,
but it also has the beauty

of symmetry, like the earth
seen from space: you can't help
but admire it from afar,

especially now, while it's simple
to re-enter whenever you choose,
lying down in your life,

waking up to it
just as you always have—
except that the details resonate

by virtue of being contained,
as your own words
coming back to you

define the landscape,
remind you that it won't go on
like this forever.

"Foreseeing" by Sharon Bryan,
from Flying Blind. © Sarabande Books, 1996.

And Now, the Happy News

Weighing in at Weight Watcher's today . . . total lost to date: 20 pounds!

Still workin' out, and still feelin' good!

Since I've been watching my weight (in earnest) I've gone from 292 on my home scale to 265, but I started WW after I had already started losing weight. That accounts for the difference.

So, 8 more pounds to go until I reach my 10% (and initial) target. The rest of the targets go like this: haven't been below 260 for four years or so; haven't been below 250 for probably 16 years (since I worked at Kemper Insurance); haven't been below 240 in even longer. My doctor set my target at 235 (back four years ago or so); he thought that would be about the best I could hope for, without training for marathons. But, while my two bad hips won't let me run, I am working out, so perhaps it's not out of the question to drop below that.

Looking back to April I see that I've taken a while to get to this point, so I won't try to rush the remainder, which I think is the correct thing to do. Guess we'll see, in about a year or so!

I Do Most Of My Work Sitting Down

"I do most of my work sitting down; that's where I shine."
- Humorist Robert Benchley


I do most of my work sitting down, as I
Am a computer programmer. Not
A desirable job, to say the least, rather
I consider myself to be just another

Tradesman, plying his trade like any
Other would do, driving nails, bending
Pipe (of one variety or another), tarring
Roofs of buildings, plowing furrows . . .

A computer is just another tool,
Is it not? Like a hammer, a saw, an anvil
(Though perhaps much more like an anvil
Or an anchor than I’d like it to be.)

Some days, like today, I rather wish I
Was Garrison Keillor, Teller of Tales
Of Lake Wobegon, or Harry Connick, Jr.,
A Singer of Popular Songs . . . but I’m not.

Not that I don’t shine, sometimes;
Sometimes I impress with the speed
At which I pound out code, fingers
Lighting the keyboard on fire, Logic

Firing on all synapses, it’s all there
Before me, like the world laid out at
The feet of Christ himself. For a time
I have it All Together; I am Happy.

Arbeit Macht Frei, nicht? A Self-
Sacrifice in the form of endless labor.
Or should a sign be posted:
Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here.

For this is not the sacrifice Christ
Made for us; the means of salvation.
This is the sacrifice of time away from
Those we love, to be able to support

Those we love. And realizing that, it
Seems evident and obvious that
I cannot really be Happy, even in
The minor successes of working.

But I am often Happy sitting down
Wife next to me on the sofa, watching
Dancing with the Stars, rubbing her
Feet, and, quietly, loving her.


© 2007 Mark Dopita

Today's Weight Watchers . . . Hooray!

Yes, the results are in. My Weight Watchers weigh-in this morning showed me down a full four pounds! At home, where I weigh myself each day, I dropped below 270 yesterday (269.4). So, excellent progress is being made! Is it possible that I could soon approach the 260 mark? I'll give it six to eight weeks . . .

It's Election Night!

Here in Island Lake and Wauconda. I don't have any results yet, but can comment on one thing: the advisory referendum to build the Illinois Route 53 extension through Lake County appears to be passing about three to one. Perhaps this means that "53" will be built, after all. I had thought it was dead-and-forgotten until I saw signs for the referendum during the past six weeks or so.

I'll comment on some of the results as they become available . . .

And I only have a couple of comments: I'm happy with our choice of mayor and trustees, generally. My advice to them would be to make sure we have good police and fire protection; make sure the garbage is picked up; make sure we have a clean water and sewer systems; continue to provide some pre-school and park board programs. If you do so, you'll be re-elected.

Route 53 was approved (as I noted above) but there are really no plans yet in place to build it. It doesn't mean too much to me, except that its future path crosses my route to work.

Participation was pitiful - 16% in Lake County; probably no better in McHenry county. I, personally, have voted in every election since I was old enough to vote. I wish everyone did.

I Fell Off the Plateau!

Okay, I guess I wrote yesterday's post a day early. This morning, when I stepped on WII Fit, I found I had lost 2 pounds! That's the breakthrough I've been waiting for. If I drop just over two more I'll be down below 270 for the first time in four years or so. And when I'm down below 270 it's on to 260!

To be perfectly honest, the lowest I've been for years was my low point four years ago - 258. Since I switched jobs - I've been at my current job for 16 years - I haven't been below 250. My long-term goal for this year (and on through the future) is to get down to 235. I haven't been there for 20 years, or so.

Weight Watchers sets intermediate goals of 5% and 10%. My 5% goal is 14 pounds; I may get there this week when I weight in. The 20% goal gets me down to 260, right near my "historic low".

I can only pray that I don't lose focus; keep workin' out and keep eatin' smart.

Plateau . . . 'd (A Weight Watchers Word)

For the last ten days or so I've stayed in a one-pound weight range. No real progress, though the Weight Watcher's scale did show me down .6 pounds from the previous week. This morning, though, no change at all from yesterday. Could this be a sign of good things to come?

I reviewed my Weight Watcher's log, and have found that while I've lost weight every week except one, I lose much more every other week. On the even weeks I'm down a total of 3 pounds, while on the odd weeks I've lost a total of 9 pounds. Seems to be a pattern - one I hope repeats itself this coming week!

Oh, and for you Weight Watcher purists, I realize that a plateau isn't considered to be in place unless your average weight loss is .5 pounds per week or less (since joining the program) and your weight hasn't changed for several weeks. So I guess this is a "mini-plateau".

Workin' Out . . . Just in Case You Were Wonderin'

So here's the good news:

Fifteen pounds lost since the beginning of the year; twenty from my last-Autumn "high point". Inches lost: 14 1/2, 1 1/2 in the waist alone. (I've been able to pull my belt in two notches.) Body fat: down 3%.

Next measurement: 6 weeks or so.

Poetry: My Lover Asks Me

My lover asks me:
"What is the difference between me and the sky?"
The difference, my love,
Is that when you laugh,
I forget about the sky.

Nizar Qabbani

Workin' Out, But Gettin' Olde

Okay, so I'm working out for the first time ever, really. It's not quite the end of my first month, and I'm already feeling better and seeing a difference. But . . . I've found that I'm not really very flexible any more.

I'm using a personal trainer to help me get started with a workout regimen. She was stretching me out at the end of my first workout and found that she couldn't stretch out my hips. She suggested Yoga; I went to the doctor. (I have been rather stiff for a while.) I was sent from my Internist to a Othopedist. X-rays were taken, and I met with the doc.

Guess what? I have bone growth around the hip socket - where no bone growth should be - so I'm not flexible for good reason. I'm basically locked from pointing my toes inward, rolling my hips in, that is. Want to see what's wrong? Stand up and point your toes in toward each other as far as you can (but don't hurt yourself). How far can I point my toes in? Not at all . . .

Aging . . . bah! Youth is wasted on the young!

Removed Books, Added Blogs

Not sure this is really important, but there ya go! I hadn't been keeping "Books" up to date, and with Blogs I don't have to!

On to Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina . . .

. . .for this week's training class. Traffic to the airport was clogged-up a couple of times, while the flight was good. I'm only five miles from the Raleigh-Durham airport, so there wasn't much to getting to the hotel. I spent part of the day in Cary, NC, browsing around through a couple of shops. Dinner was at Cracker Barrel, while I finished the third book in the series by Gregory Maguire on which the musical Wicked is based - A Lion Among Men. (The other books are Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West and Son of a Witch.)

Tomorrow starts the training class . . . hope it's "good"!

High School Pranks

We were talking at dinner tonight, and the subject of pranks came up (somehow, I don't remember exactly why). Pranks and high school seem to go together well. Here are a couple:

That Locker Had Balls!

When my son Andy was in school, he and some friends decided to pull one that is still probably remembered even today. (My friend Larry would be proud; see below.) The guys went to a local driving range, loaded up with about 200 purloined golf balls and got into the high school (somehow; again, details are a little fuzzy here).

One of the guys held open the top corner of the locker while the others poured in the range balls . . . all of them. At the beginning of the day, with the halls packed with students, the owner of that locker opened the door, and, well it was off-to-the-races to try to pick up all the golf balls! I understand it was quite a sight!

The Cookie Stealer Gets His

Back in the 70's, at my high school, a bunch of us had fourth-hour gym class. Fourth hour was also the first of three lunch hours, so we used to detour through the cafeteria and get a large, 5-cent sugar cookie to eat on the way to class.

The trouble with that was that the shop classes lined the hall on the way to the locker room, and the shop teachers used to stand outside their classes, looking for students eating on their way to their next class. If they saw you with something, they'd take it from you and send you on their way. I lost a couple of cookies like that.

My friend Larry used to grab his sandwich from his locker and eat it as he walked to gym class. He got tired of having his sandwich taken, so he decided to get even. One morning, he made a "special" sandwich - bologna on white with very generous amounts of ketchup layered on both sides of the meat.

Larry grabbed his sandwich that morning and pretended to eat it on the way to class. The "Cookie Stealer" - I can't remember the teacher's name - seeing Larry's sandwich, demanded that Larry give it to him. So Larry pressed the sandwich into the teacher's hand and gave it a good squeeze, forcing out a river of ketchup. We left the instructor looking down at his hand and the soggy, sodden, ketchup-y mess Larry had given him. And what could he do? He demanded the sandwich, and Larry complied!

This is Winter 2008-2009

We have had quite a Winter . . . to date. Lots of snow, cold (with a capital "K", as my father would say), heavy rain (which washed the first substantial snowfall away) . . . But here it is 17 Jan 2009, and I really have yet to be cold.

I don't know why I don't get cold. Perhaps it's because I walk around barefoot a lot of times, and don't bother putting on shoes even to go outside in the garage. And even though some days are really cold - like last Thursday - they're still beautiful. We had clear blue skies, a full sun and just a slight breeze. When I walked in from working out at lunch time, I took a few very deep breaths of the cold air, and it felt great!

The sun makes all of the difference in the world, I think. It certainly makes me feel good about the days. I can't imagine what it would be like if it was overcast all the time as it is rumored to be in, say Seattle. (Sorry, Seattle, if this is un-true.)

Another thing - once it's stayed below zero for the daily high, it seems mighty warm when it gets back into the 20's. We went from -20 as the low Thursday night/Friday morning to a high in the 20's today - a 40+ degree swing. And it really felt warm this afternoon.

We'll see what happens in the coming few weeks, but so far this Winter, so good!

A Little Humor

I was going with this girl in college, but we decided we couldn't get married because of religious differences. She was an atheist and I was an agnostic, and we couldn't agree which religion NOT to bring the children up in.


My buddy broke up with his girl one time for religious differences, too. She thought she was god, and he didn't.


When a woman dies and goes to Heaven, she's called an angel.

When several women die and go to Heaven, they're called an angel choir.

If all of the women on Earth were to die and go to Heaven, we'd call it peace on Earth.


Thanks to Woody Allen and some un-named guy I met in Milwaukee last weekend. The latter sat down by me while I was waiting for my wife and her friend to return from the necessary and the last joke is the only thing he said to me.

Winter-time Is Here!

My friend Carolyn Arends, a phenomenal singer-songwriter (see www.CarolynArends.com) wrote a song called Land of the Living, in which she wrote the following lines:

The frost came so early this year
Springtime is long overdue
And my heavy coat,
It don’t keep out the cold like it used to

Nothing but fog in my mind
Nothing but ice in my veins
I know everything’s got a season,
But tell me please the reason
This winter will not go away

"This Winter" in Chicagoland hit Thanksgiving weekend, and seems to be picking up speed! We've had a couple of snowfalls - last night's was 11 inches - and the ground is now thoroughly blanketed. Gigantic piles in the parking lots of various stores. We're supposed to get a little more snow tomorrow night, on into Sunday morning. Sunday and Monday's highs are in the single digits. And it's not really even Winter until the 21st!

As soon as the weather changed I started thinking about this song. My heavy coat, it don't keep out the cold like it used to. I really don't get cold; I've lived in the Chicago area my whole life, so I guess I've got thick blood. But I know many do get cold - my wife is one. And the colder you are, the longer the Winter must seem.

I wonder if we'll feel cold (and, alternately, hot) in Heaven? There's nothing as lovely as a cold Winter night, with no breeze and a gentle snow falling. Or the heat from the sun that streams through your car's windshield on a sunny Winter day. Of course there's the beach in the Summer and that overall feeling of warmth you get from laying in the sun. And the chill of walking into the air conditioning . . . or down into a cave. Perhaps it will be even better! Maybe we'll be able to get close to the surface of a star, or walk on the dark side of the moon . . .

For now, though, I'm enjoying the weather . . .

Sometimes I dream that the summer has come
I feel the warmth of the afternoon sun
But then I awaken and I’m back to waiting
Oh how much longer Lord?

Silly Christmas Songs :: Santa Claus Is Coming To What???

For some reason, I've had this silly version of "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town" brewing in my mind. It is Christmas time, of course, and the music has been playing for several days, now. And while I'm a Christian, I'm not going to confuse the American Christmas season with the Christian religion, so please don't any of you, either. If this seems a bit vulgar, just consider it a poor attempt at humor . . .

Santa Claus Is Coming To What???
© 2008 by Mark Dopita

You better watch out, you better not cry
The big guy's coming, get ready to fly
Santa Claus is coming to kick your ass!

He's making a list of things you done wrong
Of how you done bad, in words that are strong
Santa Claus is coming to kick your ass!

He sees you when you're sleeping
He knows when you're awake
[Music stops; spoken]That seems a little creepy, don't it?
A restraining order's what you need
Get one now, for your own sake!

You better watch out, you better not cry
The big guy's coming, get ready to fly
Santa Claus is coming to kick your ass!

You're out with your doll, she's starting to coo
But over your shoulder, he's looking at you
Santa Claus, that creepy old man

You're havin' a beer, you're havin' a shot
You're smokin' the last cigarette that you've got
Santa Claus is makin' his plan

The kids in girls-and-boys land
Who do the things you do
Are all in for a rude ol' shock
When he gets his hands on you

You better watch out, you better not cry
The big guy's coming, get ready to fly
Santa Claus is coming to kick your ass!

Post 33 of 30 :: And While We're At It . . .

Anybody else remember these from the 60's???

Post 32 of 30 :: A Logo

Whaddya think? It fits me! Thanks, Mr. Schultz!

Post 31 of 30 :: The Art Shot

Beautiful, downtown Keokuk, Iowa, as seen from the side mirror. Kinda works, doesn't it?

Post 30 of 30 :: Used Books and ???

I'm not sure where the name came from, but I love browsing through used book stores. This one was in Kirksville, MO, and is, sadly, out of business. On my way to Kirksville, I used to travel through Keokuk, IA, where the was a store named "Treasures and Trash". One man's meat is another man's poison, they say . . .

Post 29 of 30 :: A Nice Lake View

Kinda makes you want to compliment the Lord who made it all, doesn't it?

Post 28 of 30 :: Fay's Dinky Diner

This might look familiar to anyone who lives in Eagle River, WI. A small diner, much longer than it is wide, with a terrific (and very descriptive) name. I believe it's called "Don's Downtown Diner", now, though.

Also from 2005.

Post 27 of 30 :: The Cabin

I help my friend Paul open and close his cabin in Land O' Lakes, WI almost every year. We went up a couple of weeks ago to close it up for this year, and enjoyed some pretty nice weather. Back in 2005 we had beautiful colors to go along with nice weather.

This is a picture from that weekend.

Post 26 of 30 :: Executive Pay

I've recently read an article titled, "Why Obama, Congress must curb CEO pay" (link). While I consider myself a conservative, I am not so conservative as to "cut my own throat", compensation-wise. Therefore, I must agree with the author.

The article's basic point is this: executive salaries are too high - way out of line with what the average American earns - and are hurting the economy. If you can accept that premise, the questions that must be asked are, first, can the government (Congress) do something about it, and, second, why should it?

The point is that the government can decide, through tax policy. Take the average employee's salary, multiply it by 20, then tax a company an amount equal to the difference between the average and any other employee's salary that exceeds the average.

For example, if the average employee's salary is $20K, and the president of that company makes $400K, no tax is owed. But if that same executive makes $4,000K (four million bucks), that firm will owe the feds $3,600K in taxes. Total cost to the company for that executive: $7,600K.

Why is it that the government can do this? Because the government sets tax policy through the writing of laws and the establishment of rules guiding the application of those laws. See the US Constitution, article I, section 8:

The Congress shall have Power To lay and collect Taxes, Duties, Imposts and Excises, to pay the Debts and provide for the common Defence and general Welfare of the United States; but all Duties, Imposts and Excises shall be uniform throughout the United States;

Why should the government do this? Because it is in our government's best interest, and is the reason the Constitution was established:

". . . to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity . . ."

I believe the operative phrase is "the general Welfare". If executive compensation is getting out of hand, as most would agree it is, it is at the expense of the common man, and should be corrected.

Good-Bye to Daylight Savings Time!

And hello to waking up at the same time. Yesterday's six o'clock is today's five o'clock. So what time do I wake up? At five . . . rats!

Post 25 of 30 :: The Gardner

On the advice of Justine, I recently read the Rudyard Kipling short story, The Gardner. I enjoyed the story - especially the language, which English was written quite unlike today. I really liked the payoff, in the third sentence from the end of the story.

Makes you think . . .

Ps 103:15-18

As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its placed remembers it no more. But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him,
and his righteousness with their children’s children — with those who keep his covenant and remember to obey his precepts.

Post 24 of 30 :: Sunset on Island Lake?

Don't I wish! No, this isn't Island Lake. It's sunset at Huntington Beach, California in June, 2006.

We'd gone to California to visit our daughter Amy as she worked as a chaperone for visiting church groups doing mission work in downtown Los Angeles. We were there for almost ten days - too long for a guy from Chicago. Immediately after our vacation I didn't think I'd want to go back. But now I guess I would, as long as it wasn't for too long a time. Perhaps a week's vacation . . . which I need . . . now!

Post 23E of 30 :: Cary Grant

All day, all night, Cary Grant!
That's all I hear from my wife, it's Cary Grant!
What can he do, that I can't?
Big deal . . . big star Cary Grant!

Post 23D of 30 :: My Grandfather's Timex

My grandfather's watch was the best ever made
By the Timex company
Just like that watch John Cameron Swayze displayed
Last night on the ol' TV

Oh, it works under water so perfectly
And it still makes a ticking sound
Which my grandfather tried only this afternoon
And that's how the old man drowned!

Post 23C of 30 :: On Top of Ol' Smokey

On top of ol' Smokey
All covered with hair
Of course I'm referring
To Smokey the Bear

Post 23B of 30 :: The Diet

Oh, I diet all day and I diet all night
It's enough to drive me bats
Got no gravy or potatoes
'Cause the whole refrigerator's
Full of polyunsaturated fats

Fair thee well, Metrecal
And the others of that ilk
Like the diet start tomorrow
'Cause today I'll drown my sorrow
In a double malted milk

Post 23A of 30 :: Allan Sherman

The music of Allan Sherman - another part of my childhood that I remember fondly - is still available. You should find it in your local library, or have it sent in by inter-library loan - but listen to it. He's a tragi-comic figure who wrote witty rhymes to then-current popular and classical music and parlayed that talent into a career. One that subsequently destroyed his marriage and family life, unfortunately, but one that also brightened my youth. (Here's a link to his Wikipedia entry.)

These blog entries (23B-23E) are snippets from his "Shticks of One and Half a Dozen of Another". You may have to be of a certain age to understand some of the references . . .

Post 22 of 30 :: Joe's Sayings

Years ago, I worked at a factory that made automotive chemicals. It was an interestng experience, to be sure; one that taught me both how things should be run, and how people should be treated, and how things should not be run and how people should not be treated.

The plant manager was one of the most interesting people I had ever met - a real character. He had a number of funny sayings which I want to present. Now, remember, this was a factory setting, so some of the concepts embodied in these sayings might be a little rough (for younger or more sensitive readers . . . ha!). One thing about them, though, is I've rarely heard them used by anyone who didn't work at this place.

Saying #1 - for when surprised by something: "Holy Mother Cat!"

Saying #2 - for when surprised by something: "Holy Livin' Shit!"

Saying #3 - when the college kid (me) didn't do something right: "Send 'em to school, give 'em a book and they still don't know nothin'!"

Saying #4 - used in "woulda/coulda/shoulda" mode: "Yeah, and if your aunt had balls she'd be your uncle!"


I'm sure I'll remember a couple more in the near future. If so, I'll post an update. I just Google'd Joe's name and found a residential listing. Wonder if he'd rememeber me?

Rats!

I didn't make the 30 postings in 30 days goal. Not because I'm out of material, though. Rather, because I have too much to do and can't get to the blog often enough! So I'll complete the 30 (with nine more to go) and sally forth from there!

Post 21 of 30: A Rope-Skipping Song

My wife remembers this, from her childhood, jumping rope in the neighborhood:

Cinderella, dressed in yella
Went downtown to meet her fella
On the way her girdle busted
How many people were disgusted?

Then, counting as you jumped: 1, 2, 3 . . .

Cracks me up to think about it!

Post 20 of 30: Gravy

This is another piece from the 1991 class, and, I have ta tell ya, it was a heckuva lotta fun to write! I was laughing myself silly while thinking up these lines. Got a roaring ovation when I read it in class, too.

Gravy
© 1991 by Mark Dopita

Gravy eats time, when cooking don't boil

or the pan will be black
the Gravy, like soil

Gravy don't dress, it's brought to you nude

for putting on meat
or your wife (but that's lewd)

Gravy dreams lightly, inside of your gut

and soon it adds pounds
to both sides of your butt

Gravy is born of spices and juice

a sprinkling of parsnip,
a carcass of moose

Gravy loves meals, at lunch and at dinner;

the folks who don't like it
they seem to stay thinner

Gravy hears footsteps, a rushing to places

and soon it is seen
on shirts, laps and faces

Gravy kills hunger, a longing for food

the flesh of dead veggies,
dead critters (some moo'ed)

Gravy for Bison, Gravy for Snake

the mashed are the mountains,
the Gravy, the lake

Gravy for Otter, Gravy for Bear

Gravy at food fights
stays thick in your hair

Gravy for Kitty, Gravy for Dog

Gravy for Wombat
and Weasel . . . Warthog!

Gravy for Elephant (I like it baked)

how many Gravies
does Heinz Ketchup make?

Gravy, I love it! Gravy it's great!

so please to forgive me
I'm off for my plate!

Post 19 of 30: My Hands

Another old piece, from April, 1991, in an English class at McHenry County College. Write about your hands, the instructor said. No need to rhyme this time.

Looking back at it, with four kids, it's a wonder that the dishes were ever done. I still try to keep the kitchen clean, washing and putting away the few dishes that might have been left from last night while the coffee is brewing - kids are grown, now - and picking up most every night.

And I still write computer programs, and feel that I'm nothing more, really, than a tradesman of the 90's and 00's. White collar? Maybe, but still a tradesman.


My Hands
© 1991 by Mark Dopita

Lovely?
My wife's hands are; not mine
Mine are homey hands
Full of oil from the car
Dust from the attic
Paint
The deep yellow, smelly, dank "stuff"
From the innards of a pumpkin I just
Carved for my kids

My hands are workman's hands
Hands of the 90's
Hustling out of file cabinets
Bustling over the keyboard
Bellied up to the desk
Coding computer programs

My hands do the dishes, the water roasting
The pots, pans, glasses, silverware
The house owns my hands at night,
The job the day
The sink constantly re-fills
Overnight, somehow

I long to awaken
To find the dishes done,
The sink drainer empty
Of last night's plates

Post 18 of 30: Draft of an (Old) Untitled Song

From circa 1977, after I had left Northern Illinois University, dropping out of college.

I didn't want to be a songwriter or a performer at that time, but wanted to write songs because . . . I don't know. Seems soooo long ago. And re-reading this after so many years gives me the feeling that I must have been somewhat depressed at that time.


Untitled
All Rights Reserved

If you realize what I say is not always true
Then do not ask me why
And if you understand the world as it is today
You won't wait long to die

Maybe I can't see
Maybe we're all blind
Or have I lost my mind?

Being alive today
You will learn some way
That time merely flutters by

If you realize what I do is not always right
Come be with me tonight
And if you understand the actions of my friends
You must have seen the light

Maybe I can't feel
Maybe I'm made of clay
I don't know what to say

Seeing the sites so fine
Daring to cross the line
Don't say "don't do that" . . . you might

If you realize emotion is up to me
You'll know I don't give a damn
And if you understand politician's schemes
Better leave now while you can

Maybe I don't know
Maybe you're not sure
I wish to hell some were

You know you've lost your head
Leaving men for dead
Reason escapes from every man

Post 17 of 30: How It (Unfortunately) Used To Be

In my travel back to Kansas for dad's 70th anniversary since high school graduation, in the stop at the Hays cemetery, I saw something that made me think how lucky we are to be living in this age. Picture four gravestones, four children, none of whom lived to be three years old. I was stunned.

I no longer remember the family's last name (and I didn't think to write it down), but consider the pain they must have had to deal with. Death was an integral part of life, it seems, back in the late 1800's. How could they have handled such a thing? I pray that God gave them strength, and that they believed in the promises Christ made to us, to be with Him in Heaven some day.

Albert, born 23 Oct 1887, died 16 Apr 1888
Herman, born 27 Nov 1886, died 26 May 1887



Paul, born 3 Oct 1883, died 1 May 1886
Carl, born 21 Feb 1879, died 30 Jun 1879

Post 16 of 30: A Boy and His Dog

This picture shows a monument to Jackie Downing (1873-1878), the son of James M. Downing (1842-1932) and Ella L. Downing (1852-1933). It can be found in a cemetery in Hays, Kansas. My father was born and raised in Plainville, Kansas, some 25 miles from Hays. He told me the story of the little boy and his dog.

Now, my dad was born in 1921, so this story has some dust on it. But it seems that the little boy became ill with a disease and passed away. The boy's dog went to the grave every day, pining for his lost friend. Then, one day, he laid down at the grave site and died there. My dad said that the statue had been put in place long before he was born. And you can see from the weathering, that it has been there for years.

I'm sorry I don't have a better picture. But it's really quite something to see, and to think about . . .

50% There!

So now I've gotten to 15 of 30 posts and still haven't found the materials I was looking for. So I have more to post, and plenty of time to do it (to reach my goal of 30 posts in 30 days). But this weekend will find me in northern Wisconsin, and there's still class on Tuesday and Thursday nights, and jazz-band music to practice (with a concert coming up in ten days or so), and computer programs to write, and a deck railing to stain, and . . .

Post 15 of 30: What is it like?

I'm reading The Year's Best Science Fiction, 24th annual edition. Specifically, a story by Bruce McAllister called Kin. Near the end of the story, which is about a 12-year old boy from Earth and an alien assassin, the by asks the question, "What is it like to kill?"

The answer is very well-written, but I thought at once that the question in the story is not the correct question for the answer. And posing this other question has forced me to think back to before I had even met my wife, before we were married, before we had children, before my wife became ill, before the older generation of my family had started to pass away. And then to think forward again to today.

The question: What is it like to love?

The answer: It is both more, and less, than one imagines it will be.

And so it is . . .

Post 14 of 30: How Many Smoots Tall Are You?

I, personally, am 1.12 Smoots tall, according to this amusing article from those good old (clean) college days!

I feel sorry for the guy whose face is just outside of what is now a (somewhat) famous picture. Right place, right time, wrong height!

Cub Watch :: Just Wait Until Next Year . . .

There, now I've said it. Said it in '69, too. To cap it off, here's the famous little ditty written by Steve Goodman, A Dying Cub Fan's Last Request. Nuff said . . .

By the shore's of old Lake Michigan
Where the "hawk wind" blows so cold
An old Cub fan lay dying
In his midnight hour that tolled
Round his bed, his friends had all gathered
They knew his time was short
And on his head they put this bright blue cap
From his all-time favorite sport
He told them, "Its late and its getting dark in here"
And I know its time to go
But before I leave the line-up
Boys, there's just one thing I'd like to know

Do they still play the blues in Chicago
When baseball season rolls around
When the snow melts away,
Do the Cubbies still play
In their ivy-covered burial ground
When I was a boy they were my pride and joy
But now they only bring fatigue
To the home of the brave
The land of the free
And the doormat of the National League

Told his friends "You know the law of averages says:
Anything will happen that can"
That's what it says
"But the last time the Cubs won a National League pennant
Was the year we dropped the bomb on Japan"
The Cubs made me a criminal
Sent me down a wayward path
They stole my youth from me
(that's the truth)
I'd forsake my teachers
To go sit in the bleachers
In flagrant truancy

and then one thing led to another
and soon I'd discovered alcohol, gambling, dope
football, hockey, lacrosse, tennis
But what do you expect,
When you raise up a young boy's hopes
And then just crush 'em like so many paper beer cups.

Year after year after year
after year, after year, after year, after year, after year
'Til those hopes are just so much popcorn
for the pigeons beneath the 'L' tracks to eat
He said, "You know I'll never see Wrigley Field, anymore before my eternal rest
So if you have your pencils and your score cards ready,
and I'll read you my last request
He said, "Give me a double header funeral in Wrigley Field
On some sunny weekend day (no lights)
Have the organ play the "National Anthem"
and then a little 'na, na, na, na, hey hey, hey, Goodbye'
Make six bullpen pitchers, carry my coffin
and six ground keepers clear my path
Have the umpires bark me out at every base
In all their holy wrath
Its a beautiful day for a funeral, Hey Ernie lets play two!
Somebody go get Jack Brickhouse to come back,
and conduct just one more interview
Have the Cubbies run right out into the middle of the field,
Have Keith Moreland drop a routine fly
Give everybody two bags of peanuts and a frosty malt
And I'll be ready to die

Build a big fire on home plate out of your Louisville Sluggers baseball bats,
And toss my coffin in
Let my ashes blow in a beautiful snow
From the prevailing 30 mile an hour southwest wind
When my last remains go flying over the left-field wall
Will bid the bleacher bums ad?eu
And I will come to my final resting place, out on Waveland Avenue

The dying man's friends told him to cut it out
They said stop it that's an awful shame
He whispered, "Don't Cry, we'll meet by and by near the Heavenly Hall of Fame
He said, "I've got season's tickets to watch the Angels now,
So its just what I'm going to do
He said, "but you the living, you're stuck here with the Cubs,
So its me that feels sorry for you!"

And he said, "Ahh Play, play that lonesome losers tune,
That's the one I like the best"
And he closed his eyes, and slipped away
What we got is the Dying Cub Fan's Last Request
And here it is

Do they still play the blues in Chicago
When baseball season rolls around
When the snow melts away,
Do the Cubbies still play
In their ivy-covered burial ground
When I was a boy they were my pride and joy
But now they only bring fatigue
To the home of the brave
The land of the free
And the doormat of the National League