Ted Kennedy

Ted Kennedy, Democratic Senator from Massachusetts, passed away today. All of Massachusetts is in mourning.

Listening to the stories about Senator Kennedy, I'm moved to think about the politician's role as "representatives" of we the voters. They ultimately have to answer to us (for the most part). We get to vote them in or out (for the most part), so politicians have to strike a balance between representing their own ideals, and the goals and wishes of their constituents.

When I think about the work of our legislators, I think about how the great ideals of these United States have to be worked on and hashed out between representatives who are really proxies for us, the people. Everyone wants their piece and, by every report, Kennedy understood the meaning behind every phrase of every bill he ever looked at. He's been in the Senate for so long (third longest legislator) and has worked on so much legislation ("no one's even close", said one pundit today) that, by every report, he's seen as a model lawmaker.

But ultimately, the politician's life is a life of gestures. Every hand a politician shakes is the hand of a voter. Kennedy was a master at these graceful touches. Between opposing politicians and between those down-trodden and less fortunate, he was generous with his time.

Kennedy lived as our representative for almost fifty years. He has lived a distinctly American life, marked with distinct tragedies that no one else could bear. Through small gestures and large laws, he has reached out and connected with every one of us voters.

Americans will not see a politician and lawmaker like Ted Kennedy for quite some time.

Rowing My Boat

I rowed a boat for the first time this week.

At the place where we stayed for vacation, there was a small pond with two row boats. I took my daughter Mia there after visiting a nearby swimming pool. "Let's have a row!" I said. She was game, and I was excited.

We both entered the boat, and after I figured out how to mount the oars, I began rowing. "How come we're not moving in the water yet, daddy?" Oh, she's a smart one! I pulled my oar from its mount, and used it to push us away from the little beach. We were at last adrift on the water when it hit me: I really didn't know how to row a boat.

I started by making the rowing motions of those Olympic rowers, but instead of a smooth motion around the pond, my boat lurched and jerked forward, backwards, and every way in between. If my boat could talk, it'd say "I got me a rookie here!"

Did I mention there was a large water fountain in the pond? Its generous spray of water would be enough to cover the entire boat if I were to row under it.

Of course, I began to head towards it. Each rowing action I took seemed to bring the boat towards the fountain. It seemed the more I tried to avoid it, the closer I would get to it. Mia exclaimed the obvious: "We're getting very close to the fountain water, daddy!"

My hands felt paralyzed. I could see Mia bracing for a dousing.

Very quickly I rowed with only my right oar. This caused the boat to turn, facing towards the fountain. Then I sank both oars into the water behind me. I heaved my hands and arms backwards and the boat obeyed, moving away from the fountain!

The feeling of relief was immense. As we moved away from danger, I spun the boat a few more times in a haphazard effort to get us back to shore. As we approached, I ended up taking off my shoes and stepping into the water so that I could beach her properly.

I can laugh about it now. In boating, as in life, it can be dangerous to just drift. You have to drop your oars in the water and take action, otherwise you could get rained on.

A Rapper's Father's Day Sentiment

On the CD "Asleep in the Bread Aisle", rap artist Asher Roth sends forth a heartfelt father's day message on his song "His Dream". You can hear the song on MySpace. Some of the lyrics from the song:

So he's well aware how vital a father figure is
How big of a responsibility it is
To be a good husband and care for your kids
...
Papa isn't dumb, he understands what this means
His dream is my dream, my dream is his dream

I was quite struck by the words. Among the tracks about college drinking, marijuana, and bad travel days was this lovely poem to his dad. The chorus:

I close my eyes and I can see (His dream)
The sacrifices he made for me (His dream)
Put it aside for his family (His dream)
Yeah, so I'ma keep it alive, Yeah

The sentiment is clear: a father, a good father, necessarily suspends some or all of his dreams to take on the dreams of his children. It's a striking and unexpected insight on an album featuring a song titled "Blunt Cruisin'". That said, if I'm to believe the song, I would think that Asher Roth's own father is quite proud. I know I would be. His son is living his dream. For father's everywhere, when your children live their dreams, you're living the best dream possible.

Jarhead

"We are afraid, but that doesn't mean we don't want to fight."

Memorial Day is a time to remember the fallen, those who have died for "our cause." But there is a value to listening to those who lived, those who were there.

Earlier this year I read Jarhead, by Anthony Swofford, easily one of the best books I have read about war, and the nature of the combatants. Swofford's book came out in 2003, and I remember the rash of generally positive reviews. It was inevitable that a movie would be made based on Swofford's book. That came out in 2005, directed by Sam Mendes, starring Jake Gyllenhaal and Peter Sarsgaard.

Swofford's book is a high-testosterone retelling of the First Gulf War, under President George H.W. Bush. It was a short war (August 1990 to February 1991). Swofford was a sniper, but he never saw any "action." The book is a profane reminisce of his time "in the desert". He recalls the boredom of a war steeped in technology. He recalls, most eloquently, of he and his fellow soldiers' anxiousness to fight and to kill. He recalls the unending heat and the unending sand.

Swofford describes his transformation into a Marine. He became a jarhead, a grunt, and the change in his psyche was thrilling to read. Swofford is the embodiment of a tough guy, but with military training and weapons. He represents American might. And at the same time he openly acknowledges what a bad decision it was for him to join the Marines. Sexual frustration abounds. The food is miserable. Being "in shape" becomes a job. Drill Instructors direct violence and profanity towards him. "You must forget who you were before the Marine Corps. You must also forget the person you might be in the future..."

War is sometimes depicted as large arrows moving upward on the map of some country. War is made abstract, a simple "conflict." War becomes part of the narrative of the country, but Swofford says this holds "no sway for the warrior."

War is ultimately waged between combatants, between warriors. Sometimes combatants die, but sometimes they live beyond the war. "The warrior celebrates the fact of having survived," he writes. Survivors of war, like Anthony Swofford, sometimes give us a chance to hear from the combatants of war. We should be listening.

Rooted

A house on our street is up for sale. The sign went up over the weekend. Since I live at the end of a dead-end street, we saw the tell-tale stream of strange cars. "Open house," my wife announced. In a few clicks, we found the listing, whistled at the price, and went on with our day, watching the cars go back and forth.

My family has lived in this house since March of 1997. Yep: Twelve years. My wife and I are rooted here in town. Our daughter was born in 2001 and now attends the nearby public school. We were just there for a school concert, and we saw lots of familiar faces, all rooted like us.

There are times when I badly wish we could just pull up our roots, and make a stake someplace else. Boredom is the cause. Sometimes I think it's just a desire to see if could lay down roots some place else. I like to think that I could do it. Of course, uprooting a whole family just because "I'm bored" is the height of selfishness.

I went out for take out during the open house. I saw the cars parked in front of the house for sale. There were a lot of visitors. Someone will be moving in over the next month or so (or sooner, who knows). I wonder if they were bored where they originally lived. I wonder if they were rooted like I feel I am.

Happy Birthday

Forty-one today.

I just now noticed that 41 (years) times 365 (days in a year) = 14,965 (days). This means that in less than a month I could be at my 15,000th day. For some reason this feels momentous. 15,000 days! That's huge!

I vaguely remember this concept of counting your age in days, and after rummaging around in my brain, I found a link: "Metric Birthday" (Kelvin Hartnall). According to this link, my 15K "birthday" will be May 1, this year. I wonder if I can get my wife to make me another cake?

A Decline in Weight

I have lost almost thirty pounds over the last year. When I turned 40 in 2008, I made it a point to start visiting the doctor regularly (prior to this appointment it had been over five years since I saw a doctor). He ordered a blood test, and the cholesterol numbers that came back were high. With a glib note on the test results, he said "cut out dairy and meat fats."

My wife looked at the results, winced, then showed me exactly how much half and half cream I use in my coffee. Let me tell you: it's more than two tablespoons. "From now on, no cream in your coffee," she said. So...this was how it was going to be.

Since that change, I've made other adjustments, all of which I've accepted grudgingly. I've eliminated butter and toast for breakfast, favoring yogurt or cereal (and just a cup of cereal at that). I've stopped eating peanut butter. Every now and then, I'll enjoy a salad for lunch.

Just these few changes caused my pants to feel loose in a few months. We made other changes, including dropping out or greatly reducing certain take-out choices (good bye lovely Chinese food; good bye tasty sandwiches from Panera; good bye McDonald's; good bye Dunkin' Donut breakfast sandwiches). Over this period, I've become a fan of reading the nutrition label of anything I eat.

My next blood test seven months later showed a marked improvement, but the doctor still saw some high numbers, and he recommended a meeting with a nutritionist. This meeting was eye-opening. The nutritionist diagrammed how the body digests food, and how "bad" fat is created. He pointed me towards the South Beach diet for other principles. He introduced me to "heart-smart fats". He told me about the work of Dr. William Castelli and the Framingham Heart Study.

I didn't necessarily get "diet religion", but I have started taking Omega-3 pills, and redoubled my effort to eat more fruit instead of sugary or overly salty snacks (mixed nuts are good, in moderation).

My next cholesterol test will be sometime in late April or May. Who knows how these changes will affect those numbers, but the weight loss is undeniable evidence that these changes are having effect. The weight loss has been uneasy to me. I associate my weight with prosperity. Or maybe I justified it? Either way, tightening the belt is an easier thing for me today.