Ron Paul: Your President?

Depending on who is talking, Ron Paul is either the greatest invention since the bread slicer (or the Iphone for the youngsters of the world) or the man who will bring down the Republican Party. What exactly would Ron Paul do if he was president that has everyone in a hissy. Let me count the ways.

Isolationism
Ron would close up all United States foreign bases and bring home the troops. This flies in the face of the current convention that the United States deters aggressive nations by placing troops near them. A current convention that has been proven to work, well, I guess it would be never.
Isolationism actually has a long storied history in the United States. You know why the United States didn't get involved in World War II until Pearl Harbor was bombed? At the time most of the residents believed the world's problems were none-of-our business. With all the problems at home with joblessness, foreign aide to other countries, you can certainly understand why people harken back to a thought of not being involved in other people's business.

Speaking of other people's business.

Eliminating Foreign Aide
This confuses people on a fundamental level as the United States often speaks fondly of those we aide while sanctioning those who we dislike. The main issue has been that we change the rules of who we like - even sometimes threatening to withdraw money from those very people if they don't do what we say.

Ron Paul wants to end all the politics with this by cutting off everyone.

Very interesting thought. After all our currency is worth a lot. Hey, wait a second. What exactly is our currency worth these days? Wasn't it tied to gold once upon a time?

Returning to the Gold Standard
Once upon a time there was a direct connection between gold and the dollars in the bank account. In lay person terms you could trade your dollars for actual gold according to the exchange rate, the underlying principle being that there was a correlation. In 1971 Richard Nixon took the United States off the gold standard, keeping us off it ever since.

For the longest time Ron Paul wanted to return us to the gold standard, though he has now backed off. Mostly since nobody will know what would happen. Well, most likely combining the gold standard with Ron Paul's next idea would get him shot.

Ending the Federal Reserve Banking System
The fed reserve system is a bunch of private banks who control lending policies. Yes, it is odd that privateers control public policy except the initial reasoning made sense. Before federal taxes private companies could raise money faster than the U.S. Banking system. Why it was left this way is not all that complex: these banks help get politicians into office.

The last major player to try to eliminate the banking system was John F Kennedy. That didn't turn out so well for him.

Ron Paul is dancing with very powerful people with these last two ideas in conjunction with each other. These are the type of ideas that frighten the Republican party to no end. The fact that Paul has gotten traction with all of the ideas is what terrifies both political parties.

It is a world where money keeps its current value, money stays within the very country that created it, and where bankers can longer change the destiny of a country with a whim.

Is it likely to happen? No.

Congress would tie up any of these changes with forty pounds of red tape. It is the ideas that are enough though. Ideas of questioning the status quo while asking for explanations of the reasoning. Critical thinking that seems to have been missing for so long.

Sometimes it may be enough that Paul is putting out the ideas, knowing that there could be change. The idea of hope. The same ideas that got our current president elected.

We live in interesting times indeed.

Wayne

Back in 1845...

The wagon wheel was stuck in the mud.

Usually this would not be a major problem for Cecile B Cecile. It wasn't at the level of an early frost, or a waterless summer, or the scurvey his oldest child somehow contracted the previous summer.

Usually.

Except this was an election year and Cecile B Cecile wanted to vote. Even more than that he needed to vote. As a male land owner it was a God-given necessity. When he first purchased the farm it was one of the reasons he agreed to go into debt.

This was his country and his voice would be heard.

Eight hours later Cecile B Cecile sat beside his still stuck wagon, tears descending down his weather-beaten face. He couldn't make it to town to vote. He died two months later never having gotten the chance.

There is a moral in here somewhere.

Wayne

Legends of the Workpace...DRS

We've all had - and most likely been one at some point - insensitive co-workers. Talking loudly on on the phone, gossips, general-pain-in-the-assness.

Here is a new one that has been added to the list due to open environment. Disease-Ridden-Scum.

A crude non-de-plumbe to be sure, except hear me (read me?) out as DRS makes noises akin to a wounded water buffalo bellowing for help from the herd. DRS chooses to cough and sneeze into the hand directly and then touch the phone. The keyword. Or a piece of fruit in the kitchen.

DRS has the ego on the level of a CEO. The belief that one MUST come to work each day for the good of the company - even though there is an option to work from home. Why just today DRS stated, "I was sick for two weeks - got healthy - now I'm sick again."

Really? You are bragging about this? Please DRS do us all a favor and stay home, stopping only to expel your refuse into a tissue far away from me. You are not so important that you cannot be replaced, or miss a day, or generally take a miss manners.

No amount of pleading, politeness, rudeness, and even hiding your chair appears to deter you from spreading your germs.

I look forward to the next time I get sick, as I will I plead temporary insanity when I throttle you.

That is all.

Wayne

I'm not like that...well, maybe you are

I love elevators.

They are petri dishes of humanity whereby people tend to forget where they are and talk at the top of the lungs. Subways are a close second* yet do not have as many opportunties to have a random person completely forget he or she is on an elevator and say (a) something hysterically inappropriate or (b) provide a bite sizes morsel into why humanity may actually collapse upon itself.

Today it was B.

"I need to get a new pair of glasses since I can't see anymore."

The speaker was a frumpy, middle-age woman and I'm not using that description so you will immediately dislike her. I'm using that description since she was a frumpy, middle-age woman who's skin managed to somehow disolve straight into her suit, giving her a near translucent aspect.

"People thought I was rude because they'd wave to me across the parking lot and I wouldn't say anything. I didn't even see them." She was telling her equally dressed in blue translucent friend - her outfit was blending her into the background of the elevator wall - who is only being mentioned since Translucent Blue was on the receiving end of the Frumpy Translucent's confession.

At that point the elevator reached the bottom floor. Since I am a polite person - or at least pretend to be - I gestured for both women to exit first. Translucent Blue nodded her thanks and Frumpy Translucent...she walked straight out of the elevator.

Fair enough. She didn't owe me anything.

However the building we were at required us to get a second set of elevators. I moved past the Translucent Twins and reached the next set of elevators, pressing the button as one is wont to do.

It should be no surprise that the Translucent Twins caught up to me. After all it wouldn't be much of a story. It should also come as no surprise that Frumpy Translucent stepped right past me when the elevator opened.

"I just have trouble seeing," she was opining as she brushed past.

As the elevator reached our final destination, I tripped her. Just kidding. Though I thought about it. Instead I left them go first and listened as she complained, "I just hate when people are rude. People should just be polite."

Yes, I thought in agreement.

The moral of the story, yeah, I probably do something similar. Most times that some action annoys you is because you do it yourself. Still, I really wanted to give her a kick in the rear.

Wayne

Wayne
* Once upon a time I would have had subways first except Danielle has lived in New York her entire life and has (a) taught me proper subway etiquette and (b) subway talking has taken on a level of performance art whereby you can't really get a GREAT natural conversation like an elevator. A ruined it for me much more than B.

Sienna turns 10 months

The wisdom of crowds rarely is in complete agreement when it comes to child raising. Ask opinions, or any subject or raising the tyke you will get 100 different opinions if you ask 100 different people.

Except that it goes by fast. The parental wisdom of crowds is in agreement on only this particular subject - not an outlier to be found - so naturally I wondered if I would agree with them on this. After all, I usual find statements including the words "everyone thinks so," "common wisdom," and "always done this way," to need more examination.

After 10 months I agree. It goes by fast.

Holy crap does it go by fast. The little girl with the stomach the size of a marble is sitting in her high chair refusing food, smiling at the cat, scooting around like a wild woman, all while maintaining a, "What's the problem? I've got this," expression.

I was shocked yesterday when Danielle pointed out that Sienna is ten months old. One would think I was on top of such information all the time. Nope. I'm on top of what to feed her, how she reacts to the universe, and generally trying to figure out how she go so big*.

Yes, time is blazing past already. I now understand why parents get names confused, years confused, and generally compress a decade of time into some form of "that was yesterday, right?" even when it wasn't.

I can't wait for more.

Wayne
--
* Mind you, Sienna is in the 4-5% size percentile and people think she is a six month old. How tiny was she when she started daycare? Other children thought she was a doll.

The Good Sense to Finally Die

"Do you have any milk for this?"

My Uncle Bill gave me a bemused look as I gestured toward U.S.M.C. mug that he had placed in front of me second before. The steam rising from the cup guarded Maxwell House's finest blend, the final defense against its ultimate destination in my stomach.

"It's black. That's how you drink coffee." His 60 plus year old eyes gave me a glint of warning that the conversation was already over, except at age 20 I didn't recognize it.

"I take mine with milk."

Uncle Bill gave me one more look over, a small red vein appearing just over his right eye, providing an odd connection between his steely eyes and his tight cropped white hair.

"Wayne, in life, you can't count on having milk. You can't count on having sugar. You can't even count on it being hot. You can count on black coffee though. You are going to have it black. You're now going to learn how to drink it black."

The vein disappeared as he extolled his wisdom, replaced by a warmness. I drank the coffee. Black.

Uncle Bill was like that. He drank his coffee like that. Nearly twenty years later I remember the conversation and it's how I drink my coffee, Like a man.

Uncle Bill was a man's man. Like most men of a certain generation he had served in the military. He wasn't an Uncle by blood, the Parillo brood had linked up with his Meade blood when he married my father's sister Anne some 60+ years ago.

He was, outside of his own sisters, the person my father knew the longest. Sometimes serving as a father figure, a mentor, a compatriot, and a sounding board he was that guy for my father. I am positive that there were times my Uncle Bill didn't think much of me.

But that isn't why I said he had the good sense to finally die.

He was probably right. To him I was a little too glib for my own good, a little too smug, and a most likely deserving of a good swift kick in the ass. He would occasionally slap me down with a well timed remark, throw in a little common sense wisdom and wonder what was going to come of his country with people like me around.

It was his country, by the way. He lived at the end of a cul de sac - so close to the people across the street that you could hit the house by throwing a baseball. It was almost as though construction workers had built the road, put down his house, then quit because there was no point going anymore since the toughest guy always lives at the end of the block and there was no one tougher than Uncle Bill. My Uncle Bill was the embodiment of the American Dream. He served his country, he bought a home, raised his four kids and loved traveling around with his wife in their motor home type trailer. He paid his taxes on time and if I ever mentioned to Uncle Bill I was a democrat then I probably would have gotten a kick in the ass.

Uncle Bill had problems with his lungs - the prize of a lifetime of hard work. Over the years his lungs slowed him down. Slowed him down enough that he couldn't travel around in his motor home trailer anymore. It sat there at the end of his driveway, a memory of a time past when he was a mobile man.

It wasn't completely surprising when my father called me last year to tell me Uncle Bill was in the hospital. What did surprise me was that the man had fallen down some stairs and broken his neck.

But that isn't why he had the good sense to finally die.

That happens, 83 year old men fall. The next time my father mentioned Uncle Bill it was to say he was in the hospital again. I asked if it was his neck again. No, this time it was his lungs. Massachusetts had been hit by several snow storms and his street hadn't been plowed.

Uncle Bill couldn't breath and the ambulance showed up. Only it couldn't get up the street. They had to call a plow to plow the street and then they got him into the ambulance. Because Uncle Bill appears to have been a piece of jerky residing in a human body - he survived.

Numerous times during the year Uncle Bill made ambulance trips to the hospital. My Aunt is 77 and she couldn't get him to the car. The ambulance would show up, take him to the hospital and then days later my father would find himself driving Uncle Bill back home since Anne needed the help getting her husband inside.

My Aunt is not a selfish woman. Except in one vein - she didn't want her husband of 60+ years to die. Then a few days ago my father let me know my Uncle Bill had finally died.

He had paid off the mortgage - this wasn't Willie Loman finally paying off the house - where we feel bad as he didn't realize some sort of dream. His daughter is a lawyer and she was there. His two sons from the west coast were around. His other daughter was on the way to be by his side. He has numerous grandchildren and his life was fully lived in every sense of the word.

That isn't why I say he had the good sense to finally die. No, it was the medical bills.

Uncle Bill was a veteran so the veteran association paid for some of his bills. Some. Not all.

Uncle Bill owned his house.

He owned his trailer that sat at the end of his driveway.

You have to have nothing for the V.A. to pay all your bills. The bill collectors started in on my Aunt. They started in on my Uncle. They left them wondering why they had bothered to pay their taxes, buy a house, play by the rules, and be responsible human beings. Where is their bailout? Where is their help? Where is their tax break/write off/of a general thank you for living within their means and not being a burden to anyone.

Is that what really happens in the end if you live long enough - someone tries to come and take everything away since he had the good sense to build a family and a life, but the bad sense to keep living.

Wayne

Six Times Daddy Got Hurt, Maimed and Nearly Killed

"Daddy you have brain damage!" Sienna is going to utter those words, or some variant there within. She will probably tell me I don't recall being a teenager, never had any fun, and never did anything dangerous.

I pre-present my daughter with a list of Six Times Daddy Got Hurt, Maimed and Nearly Killed. Some were much closer than others, some I was okay by dumb luck and some were keeping a cool head.

Remarkably enough these are the times I remember off the top of my head and the list used to be ten. Only I can't remember four of them right now.

Guatemala
A case of mistaken identity led to a member of the Guatemalan military pointing his handgun at me. Judging by the adornment of his uniform I am pretty positive that he would have gotten off for shooting me. I am also glad I was carrying a copy of my U.S. passport with me at the time.

Sliding Down a Volcano
I tore my labrum, an injury so severe I later required surgery. Naturally I did not want surgery and as Danielle and I headed to Chile for an adventure vacation I received a cortisone shot so I could have a normal time. Part of the trip was climbing a snow and ice covered volcano. The only way down the volcano was to slide down an ice slide and use an ice-pick to stop yourself. This type of climb is dangerous enough that you are required to wear a helmet.

On the way down my shoulder gave out and I spun out of control since I couldn't stop by myself. What we had been told was to throw the ice pick if you slide out of control as you are likely to impale yourself. I threw the ice pick to the side and flipped over as I continued to slide. I then flipped again and found myself going head first and face first down the icy volcano. The cracking noise of ice meeting helmet echoed in my ears and my neck was being compressed on each hit.

I kept my head enough to flip back around and get my feet in front of me. I actually gained enough control that I stabilized. Still out of control I opened my legs enough to let snow in - hopefully creating friction to slow myself.

I distinctly remember that thought. The snow between my legs caused me to shoot off the ice slide and onto a more icy snowy area. I really have no idea how I was going to stopped right until my feet met some frozen volcanic ash.

My legs folded as the momentum was absorbed and for a moment my momentum caused me to stand up. For only a second and then I fell onto my back. I lay on my back, eyes tightly shut, unmoving as I tested various joins to see everything was still intact.

Amazingly enough everything was perfectly fine. Except I opened my eyes and couldn't see a damn thing. During my face plant my snow goggles had filled with snow. I sat up, took off the goggles and gave them a shake - they were cracked. I found myself in a field of frozen volcanic ash and took off my helmet.

Remarkably enough the helmet was scratched up, missing some point, yet perfectly in place. I looked down at my feet resenting again a large piece of ash. Really a small boulder. It was the perfect size for me to hit with my feet and stop me.

Now why doesn't Mommy ever tell this story. She has her own ski accident story that caused her to have shellshock and not being able to go up the volcano. Which is good since she might have had a heart attack watching me tumble and she was needed to take care of me later that night when my body temperature shot off the charts.

Hello, Mr. Tree
On a wet road in Framingham my car hydroplaned off a back road. I braced myself against the steering wheel, hit with enough impact that I broke the wheel, and out of the corner of my eye watched my friend Rob's head meet the windshield and create a wonderful spiderweb pattern as blood flowed. When the Police showed up they casually mentioned I couldn't have been speeding because it I was we'd both be dead.

Rafting
When I was nineteen years old I went whitewater rafting with Tio Brian and some of his college friends. Our raft flipped as we went over a small waterfalls. I actually got caught in the backwash of the small waterfall. I wasn't caught for more than a few seconds except I'm not Aquaman so I found the lack of breathing rather unpleasant.

The life jacket had enough floatation strength that it pulled me out of the backwash as I cycled through. Which is good since I'm not sure I could have executed the How-To-Escape-a-Waterfall-Backwash move (wait until the cycle pulls you to the bottom, plant your foot and push with all your might; in case you ever need it).

A Boat Trailer Falls On Me
As a six year old I loved hanging out near Nono while he worked. He was painting his 22 foot sailboat called The Wench while it was on its trailer. The trailer was balancing against a cinder block.

He must have pushed where he should have pulled because the boat pitched forward and OFF the cinder block. A piece of jagged metal drove into my leg...mostly since I was sitting under part of the trailer.

I remember Nono and Grandma arguing about whose turn it was to take me to the emergency room. This conversation took place as I watched a white towel wrapped around my cut slowly turn red. It only took six stitches to close the wound - one for each year.

That is Going to Leave a Scar
I was helping Tio Brian and Tia Sole move. It was a hot day and as I packed the moving truck I was standing on top of some packed boxes that turned out to be a really bad place to stand. I became dizzy, feel off, and a piece of metal sticking up from a desk sliced into my leg.

I grabbed my leg with my gloved hand, immediately flexed my toes to see if I had sliced a tendon (always test body parts before moving) and thankfully my toes reacted, I then limped to the back of the truck as I refused to look at the leg (never look at the cut as you could pass out).

"Dad!" I yelled. I will take a moment to say that whenever you are injured ALWAYS yell for the person with the most experience. This is usually the oldest person. Chances are they have seen something just as bad and will not panic.

Somehow Nono appeared, quite alarmed at the sound of my voice. "I cut myself," I said as I limped to the edge of the moving truck.

The story is actually funny as if you ask Tia Sole about the story she'll tell you about Tio Brian running around in circles on the lawn when he saw what happened and how two of her best towels were ruined.

The rest of the story explains a lot of how Nono raised his boys. Or explains something about Nono in general and where your sense of humor has its genesis.

Nono, Brian and I piled into the front of the Voyager van with Brian driving, me in passenger seat and Nono sitting almost on top of me while he helped apply pressure. Tio Brian started us toward the hospital and we seemed to hit every single bump. When we would hit a bump Nono would apply more pressure, thereby causing me the only actual pain at that time.

"Ow!" I said at about the fifth bump.

"It's going to hurt Wayne, that is a good sign." Nono's comment is actually true - it is when you're hurt and everything goes numb that you worry.

"Dad, I can take the pain of the cut it's your friggin weight that's killing me. You need to lose a few pounds," I said.

Nono burst out laughing and Tio Brian smiled.

We got to the hospital, I was checked in at the same time that someone who had severed his finger tip came in. When the hospital workers' saw I wasn't going to bleed to death they propped me up - bare ass except for the hospital gown - over a bedpan type device while they went to sew the guys finger on.

Since I wasn't in actual pain I figured the cut wasn't that bad. Not a good idea. I could easily see the muscle of my leg - it looked exactly like a filleted fish and THAT was the point where my face became ashen. Which Nono noticed.

"Don't look, you moron," he said. I then noticed my blood all over his hands, which he also looked down at, "I'm never going to be able to go the butcher again," he added.

Tio Brian joined us and saw that I'd live Nono looked at him and said, "Well, Wayne isn't going anywhere. I guess we should go back and finish packing you up."

Then yes, Nono and Tio Brian left me alone in the hospital bare ass naked with my rear in the air.

In Conclusion
So when I give you advice of carry a copy of your passport, don't speed on wet rules, don't play under boat trailers, don't help family members move, be careful sliding down volcanoes and white water rafting you know why. I promise I won't leave you in the hospital though - even if I am helping someone move.

Wayne