Inaccurate Labeling

lib·er·al
   /ˈlɪbərəl, ˈlɪbrəl/ Show Spelled[lib-er-uhl, lib-ruhl] favorable to or in accord with concepts of maximum individual freedom possible, esp. as guaranteed by law and secured by governmental protection of civil liberties.

con·serv·a·tive
   /kənˈsɜrvətɪv/ Show Spelled[kuhn-sur-vuh-tiv] Show IPA
–adjective
1.
disposed to preserve existing conditions, institutions, etc., or to restore traditional ones, and to limit change.

In a recent discussion of the Arizona law pertaining to illegal immigration I discovered the weakness of current labels to accurately define a persons perspective on difficult issues. The discussion was with one of my friends who I would describe as "Liberal". I suspect that most people would describe me as "conservative".

His argument was as follows:

1. The constitution protects citizens from unreasonable search and seizure.
2. Enabling law enforcement officers to request documentation constitutes unreasonable search and seizure.
3. Therefore the AZ law is unconstitutional.

My response was:

1. If a person is in the country illegally they are not a citizen of this country.
2. If they are not a citizen of this country, they are not protected under the constitution.

He agreed with my assessment. He went on to say that determining the status of their citizenship would require the law enforcement personnel to make assumptions and act in a way that would violate that protection against unreasonable search and seizure.

My response: If they are not citizens they are entitled to no such protection.

His response: But how will the enforcement officials know whether they are citizens.

My response: We have a constitutional conundrum.

His response: I agree.

So now I am confused. My "Liberal" friend is being conservative by definition in adhering to the spirit of the constitution. I am being liberal in that I want to protect the liberties of citizens of this country but not necessarily extend them to criminal elements that may be here illegally. Oy vey!

In virtually every country on the planet, documentation of citizenship is something that is required. I am not sure if papers are carried and available for inspection on demand in all countries. I do know that most countries take extraordinary precautions to protect their borders from intruders. The United States does not.

Last week a sheriff's deputy was shot with an automatic rifle by drug smugglers and left bleeding just south of Phoenix. Texas, Arizona, and California have thousands of miles of borders that are essentially unsecured. Estimates are that 11 million illegals are in this country now. And we have a conundrum. If we grant amnesty to all that are here now, there is no mechanism in place to prevent more illegals from coming and no plan in place to secure the border.

In the meantime these illegals work here, many for cash with no taxes. They are eligible for social services for which citizens pay. What's not to like about that set up? Granted, most are hard working people of good character. But some are drug smugglers, murderers and thieves. Immigration and our Southern border may well be one of the defining issues of the 21st Century with far reaching ramifications on all aspects of the political, social and economic fabric of our country. It will force a resolution to the constitutional conundrum that will likely require a restriction on the liberty we now enjoy in order to preserve a future liberty that may well be at risk. As our politicians fiddle, the issue burns and burns out of control. Would that we would have an intelligent discussion of this on a national basis and bring it to resolution.

Nothing Left Unsaid

I recently celebrated my 59^th birthday. Granted we all live in 24 hour compartments and they are the same length for each of us. But when you have tallied up enough days you begin to realize that the supply is not unlimited. I have known people who died young and that is a tragedy. I have seen and known people who lived too long and that too is tragic in its own way.

Ten years ago this summer my sister died. She was 59. Sis and I always had a special relationship. I was the youngest of three. She was ten years older. She was actively involved in my care when I was young. We were always close. She was a wonderful woman who lived an extraordinary life when faced with tragic and difficult circumstances. I learned from watching her that a person can survive even the greatest trials. She always looked out for me.

One of the things I learned from her is to not leave things left unsaid. My feelings for those close to me are strong. I care deeply. I often am unable to articulate those feelings. I think it is a guy thing. As I traverse the milestone that is my 59^th year, I have a desire to live in such a way that nothing is left unsaid. One of my guiding principles comes from the Bible in the book of Ephesians. “Let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth, but only such a word as is good for edification according to the need of the moment, so that it will give grace to those who hear.” (Eph 4:29)

I have great admiration for the people in my life. I am surrounded by extraordinarily gifted and talented individuals. My wife, my children, my grandchildren and coworkers are amazing people. They need to know—I need to tell them.

The Power of Example

I learned recently that my blog actually has readers. Shock! Humbling! When my favorite daughter-in-law went to pick up Reese at school, her teacher inquired, "Who is Reese's grandfather?" Evidently Reese had informed her that her Granddad writes and makes movies. (see vegas entries) Lara set the record straight by letting the teacher know that I write a blog and she reads it to Reese.

Needless to say, the knowledge that you have readers changes the way you write. (Hi Reese!) More importantly, the knowledge that someone is watching alters the way we behave, or should. (see back to school entry)

Last weekend I had the privilege of having Adam's family (I love saying that) stay with me in NH. On Sunday morning Reese had a difference of opinion with her mom that erupted into a demonstration requiring a time out. (See picture right, "who me?") Reese accepted the judgment of her mom, as she should, and went to sit in the corner and contemplate her behavior, her relationship with mom, and who knows what else she was contemplating. She whimpered some but not much and when time was served we all went on with our day.

Moments later, little brother Hudson evidently decided that he wanted to be like sis. We looked in the corner and there he sat, whimpering and contemplating how cool it was to be like Reese.

Time Travel

When my daughter was between one and two years old, it is accurate to say that she was a young lady with her own agenda. Her words, or lack of them, her facial expressions, her every gesture was one with purpose--hers. She was a mini control freak--until the sippy cup lid.

Sara had a sippy cup the lid of which had a convex bottom. If I sat the lid on the table and hit down sharply on its edge, it would fly up into the air a couple of feet, spinning end over end. This broke the icy composure of the control princess and reduced her to a helpless adorable giggling treasure. We played this game every night for a while. It got to the point that I only had to reach for the cup lid and she would begin to snicker. Thirty two years later this is still one of my life treasures--the memory of my cackling daughter.

Fast forward to the year 2010. At my work vendors will often send us trinkets to get our attention with the hopes that we will remember their name and evaluate their products. Last Monday I got such a toy from an insurance company. It was a half sphere rubber ball with a sort of a golf tee device sticking through the axis. The instructions said to invert the sphere, hold it six to ten inches from a hard surface, and spin it with the tee device, dropping it at the same time. I followed the instructions and the sphere hit the surface and with a loud pop flew all the way to the ceiling. I was immediately transported to 1979 and the sippy cup adventure.

I immediatly grabbed a padded envelope and addressed it to Gwendolyn H. Tyler in New York. I taped the instructions onto the ball and wrote a note telling her to enlist the help of her father with the fun. (He is totally qualified to assist.) Off in the mail.

I started calling on Wednesday to see if it had arrived. The US Mail was unaware of the importance of the package and did not deliver it until Saturday. Gwendolyn, knowing she was expecting a package waited patiently. (see photo right)

Then it happened. Today I got a video on my phone that completed my time travel journey. See and hear what I experienced in 1979 and in 2010. Same giggle, same joy. Thank you Emrys and Sara for the assist.

Rules are Made for When Brains Run Out

April 15, 2010

“Rules are made for when brains run out”, Matt Eaton

I have a good friend and former co-worker who is a graduate of West Point. We had many discussions ranging topics from finance to philosophy, politics to polemics. We have jousted with windmills we found in the corporate world and with those we saw in the world of policymaking. One of his favorite proverbs was, “Rules are made for when brains run out.”

This is undiluted truth. I experienced it today. For some reason my briefcase which has traveled with me on countless flights has now become a shady bag. The x-ray technician at the airport determined my leather companion to be suspect and in need of further scrutiny. I was politely asked to move to a separate area where I watched Barney Fife take a cotton patch and wipe the inside of my briefcase, sort of a accessory pap smear if you will, and put the cotton patch into what I believe to be a anti-terrorist sphygnogroptamassameter. Much to my surprise, my bag, without my knowledge, has evidently been exposing itself to substances that make the sphygnogroptamassameter very excitable and prone to beeps and tones.

Where could it have gone wrong? It has been such a good bag for so many years. I rarely let it out of my sight. Could it be cavorting with shady backpacks or, dare I say it, purses without my knowledge? Substance abuse! Who would have known?

Now I am an accessory to a suspect accessory. Barney’s comrade steps me over to the TSA welcome mat where I am told to remove my belt and empty my pockets while Barney unloads my bag and inspects all the contents. He carefully examines each and every phone, headset, and computer charger, while his partner, let’s call him Andy, carefully inspects me. First the wand, then the hands—first the front, then the back. Shoeless, beltless, and bag-less I wait for Barney and Andy to determine that the contents of my briefcase are worthy to board a Southwest flight.

Then it happens. Attached to my keychain is a 2.25” swiss army knife in a small leather holster that I had forgotten to remove. This diminutive blade was almost useful for cutting up an apple, and very helpful for letter opening and emergency hangnail clipping, is in the words of Barney Fife, “something that should not be on board an aircraft.” I am given my options and bid farewell to the tiny tool and am allowed to gather my things and begin to dress myself again.

We have all seen it—dutiful civil servants patting down Nana as she enjoys some attention that she can get nowhere else; travelers frantically removing shoes, computers and arguing over 4.5 oz bottles of contact lense solution as “the man” assures them that the extra 1.5 ounces over the limit will endanger the rest of the passengers and the planet; and the incremental striptease as the metal detector requires the removal of the belt, then the pen, then the glasses, then….bada bing!

Which brings me back to Matt’s undeniable truth: “Rules are made for when brains run out”. The TSA is a master of the obvious. If a person wanted to destroy a plane in flight they would probably not use the obvious tools that have been used before. As seen on Christmas Eve, underwear could be a weapon. I am surprised that TSA does not now require us all to drop trou so that they can scan the skivvies. Granted there have been no new airline tragedies since 9/11/2001 for which we are all thankful. The TSA is eager to take credit for that. But screening the obvious is an exercise not in safety but in psychology. Anyone with a brain would be able to tell the difference between a briefcase and a bomb. That is why we have rules, x-rays, and phygnogroptamassameters so that Barney can do his job and we can all be safe. However, someone who really wants to hurt us will likely use the not so obvious device. Here is hoping that while Barney is groping Nana, the real threat is not walking through the security area with lethal socks.

Back to School

I really was being good all day. I drove 5 miles under the speed limit most of the day, if you can believe that. The limit was 75 and I drove 70.

EXCEPT, when I did not see the 45 mph sign on the construction zone and thought the limit was 55, which I did see.

According to the trooper, who was not impressed with my lack of observational skills or my heavy right foot, I am in need of further driving education, or an immediate cashectomy of $300. (A cashectomy, for those of you who don't know is when the government extracts funds from you without an anesthetic. See, income taxes, estate taxes, sales taxes, etc.) Being quick with numbers i deduce that $189.50 for school and dismissal of the fine and points is a better deal that $300. So off to school I go.

Small Miracles

On the last day of our road trip we find St. Arbucks in the Safeway at Gallup NM. Sweet!