But just as they did in Philadelphia when they were writing the constitution, sooner or later, you've got to compromise. You've got to start making the compromises that arrive at a consensus and move the country forward.
"My get up and go has got up and went." So warbled the late folk singer Pete Seeger. Sleep deprived, jet lagged and now under the weather, a charming colloquialism describing nothing that an intense upper respiratory affords. Stuck inside on a beautiful day, depressed....
Wait, the final days of the Supreme Court's 2013 session are here! It's time for - law porn!!
You've been warned.
I'm going to skip AMERICAN BROADCASTING COS., INC., ET AL. v. AEREO, INC., FKA BAMBOOM LABS, INC. because I don't watch network news (although Justice Scalia's tart but respectful dissent is fun in a contrarian sort of way). FIFTH THIRD BANCORP ET AL. v. DUDENHOEFFER, ET AL. has a cool name but involves fiduciary duties as they relate to an employee stock option in a defined-contribution retirement plan. Just wow. NATIONAL LABOR RELATIONS BOARD v. NOEL CANNING ET AL. is being billed as a unanimous slap down. It's not. Justice Scalia, in a pithy concurrence, asks quite reasonably how the court can decide that one plus two equals three days of recess...sometimes, but it depends.
No, we're here.... Okay, I know that we are me and my dogs CJ and Jed (named after characters in The West Wing, which figures, right? Both are, at this moment, sleeping soundly) because the hit numbers on these entries are paltry. Why do I write them? Let me tell you a story, passed on by my late father some years ago.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
The Michelin Model XGV 75/R14
Passerby: "You got mud in your tires."
Vincent LaGuardia Gambini: "Mud in my tires. Let me axe ya, how do you get mud into the tires?"
Passerby: Oh no, that's just a figure of speech. You see, the mud gets around the inside of the wheel, throws the balance off."
Vinnie: (to Mona Lisa Vito) "You ever hear of that, mud in the tires?"
Lisa: "No."
Vinnie: (To the passerby) "She never heard of it and she knows everything about cars.
Passerby: (Looking Lisa up and down). "Hahahaha!!!"
My Cousin Vinnie, (1992)
I guess my mistake was taking it to the unnamed mega-dealer located near a large mall on the western edge of Lakewood.
Dropping it off involved three separate "service professionals" at two computer screens. We were in the system (we've bought two cars from them) but it still took a ten minute info dump.
Service Counselor: "What's wrong with it?"
Me: "It's flat."
SC: "I don't see anything in the tread."
Neither did I, but I'd changed it at 11:30 the night before specifically so I could take it to a professional first thing in the morning. Sleep-deprived, jet-lagged.... Dude, really? They are busy - it will be later in the afternoon before they can get to it.
The word comes - of course, instead of calling me on the cell (as I had specifically requested) they leave a message on the home phone. The sidewall is damaged. The tire will have to be replaced at a cost of two hundred six dollars. Mounted and balanced, of course.
This is what happens when it's not mud in the tires, but nitrogen.
Me: (Teeth clenched) "Fine."
Them: We'll have it for you next Monday.
Me: "Next Monday?!"
Them: "It's a very popular tire."
Flash....
George Wilbur: "The Michelin XGV."
Vinnie: "And what's the most popular size?"
George: "75R14."
This morning, while writing this, Daughter Beth texts that the review course she is using to prepare for the Maryland Bar calls the Federal Rules of Evidence witness impeachment for sensory defect the "My Cousin Vinnie" rule.
Movie lines - laughing in the face of distress, be it buying a new tire, or preparing for a bar exam.
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Let it Go
Solstice is about finding unhealthy things to let go of. Me - I'm not responsible for things I can't control. As my career winds down, I'm responsible for me and mine. I would give me to keep them safe. But I must admit to limits.
It was a beautiful sunset on this "longest day of the year." I'm lucky.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Another Beautiful Save
"I don't think there is anything like saving someone's life to bring you satisfaction and happiness." Stephanie Kwolek.
Stephanie Kwolek was born in Pennsylvania, her parents having immigrated to the US from Poland. She began working for DuPont as a chemist, putting off medical school. She retired in 1986 having won numerous awards and obtaining a number of patents - Kevlar, among others.
The number of police officers, military member and others who are alive today because of this amazing invention cannot be counted. Although "bulletproof" is a misnomer, the lightweight vests worn by cops, animal control officers, and code enforcement officers do their jobs almost daily. Helmets made of the stuff adorn the heads of millions of first responders and military members.
One of the first law enforcement officers I met was an Arapahoe County sheriff's deputy who was shot by a suspect wielding a shotgun. The buckshot pellet - roughly the size of a 32 caliber bullet, was stopped by his vest (not before putting a hole in his tie). One of the members of my department, when he was working for another agency, was saved by his vest during a gun battle.
Ms. Kwolek apparently did not spend a lot of her time figuring out ways to use her invention - she was a research chemist, after all. That's okay. Others have taken it from there. In my locker, smelling vaguely of Fabreze, is a piece of equipment I wear every duty day. I hope it never lives up to its intended use but, if it does, I will also be able to live up to mine. I will have the daughter of Polish immigrants to thank.
Farewell, ma'am. Thank you.
Stephanie Kwolek was born in Pennsylvania, her parents having immigrated to the US from Poland. She began working for DuPont as a chemist, putting off medical school. She retired in 1986 having won numerous awards and obtaining a number of patents - Kevlar, among others.
The number of police officers, military member and others who are alive today because of this amazing invention cannot be counted. Although "bulletproof" is a misnomer, the lightweight vests worn by cops, animal control officers, and code enforcement officers do their jobs almost daily. Helmets made of the stuff adorn the heads of millions of first responders and military members.One of the first law enforcement officers I met was an Arapahoe County sheriff's deputy who was shot by a suspect wielding a shotgun. The buckshot pellet - roughly the size of a 32 caliber bullet, was stopped by his vest (not before putting a hole in his tie). One of the members of my department, when he was working for another agency, was saved by his vest during a gun battle.
Ms. Kwolek apparently did not spend a lot of her time figuring out ways to use her invention - she was a research chemist, after all. That's okay. Others have taken it from there. In my locker, smelling vaguely of Fabreze, is a piece of equipment I wear every duty day. I hope it never lives up to its intended use but, if it does, I will also be able to live up to mine. I will have the daughter of Polish immigrants to thank.
Farewell, ma'am. Thank you.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Another Road
"Seen the false horizon fade away like bison
Headed for the jungle, the cowboy can't endure
Never look back, that's what he swore
I'll take my pony to the shore
somewhere, somewhere" Take Another Road, Jimmy Buffett (Off To See The Lizard, 1989).
I was at a training class recently. I wore cargo Dockers and a silk shirt - tan and green palm trees, creme background. One of my friends referred to me for the rest of the day as "Jimmy Buffett."
Posting beach selfies when I was in Florida for daughter Beth's wedding, sharing vistas courtesy of "Sanibel Island and Ft. Myers Beach" on FB moved my Cuz Carol to encourage me to maintain my Jimmy Buffett side.
I love Jimmy Buffett music. I am hugely envious and amazingly impressed how James William Buffett, born Christmas Day in Mississippi, has become Jimmy Buffett - musician, author, businessman.
Then I run across obscure songs like this.
And I love his music even more.
Headed for the jungle, the cowboy can't endure
Never look back, that's what he swore
I'll take my pony to the shore
somewhere, somewhere" Take Another Road, Jimmy Buffett (Off To See The Lizard, 1989).
I was at a training class recently. I wore cargo Dockers and a silk shirt - tan and green palm trees, creme background. One of my friends referred to me for the rest of the day as "Jimmy Buffett."
Posting beach selfies when I was in Florida for daughter Beth's wedding, sharing vistas courtesy of "Sanibel Island and Ft. Myers Beach" on FB moved my Cuz Carol to encourage me to maintain my Jimmy Buffett side.
I love Jimmy Buffett music. I am hugely envious and amazingly impressed how James William Buffett, born Christmas Day in Mississippi, has become Jimmy Buffett - musician, author, businessman.
Then I run across obscure songs like this.
And I love his music even more.
Shave and a Haircut
You're only as good as your last haircut.
Haircuts. Since returning to law enforcement in 1991 I have had to be conscious of the length of my hair. You would think that the sort of military-style cut I've come to prefer (anything else suffers under a bike helmet) would mean I could walk in almost anywhere and get what I need. But I say nay nay! I've become something of a barbershop vagabond.
In Northglenn, I visited a classic barbershop that was walking distance from the house. I tried to go in the morning - the liquid lunches the "stylists" consumed (if they weren't nipping between cuts) made the afternoon risky business. The cuts were a little erratic, too, no matter when I arrived.
Wandering the Dupont Circle neighborhood in DC, I ducked into a salon. The haircut, bestowed by a small woman speaking Vietnamese at high-speed to someone across the room, was fabulous. It started several years visiting Aveda joints. I met a stylist in one who helped me tremendously to flesh out fictional police sergeant Amy Painter. But, keeping appointments on hectic days off proved difficult.
Which eventually led me to Roosters at Colorado Mills. Rich wood tones, full-service stations and the offer of water or soft drinks on arrival. Walk in without an appointment - they pull up my profile so I don't have to remember if I prefer a two or a three. I glanced at the price list....
"Professional Hero Cut." Their regular cut, discounted for Armed Forces, police and firefighters. I told them I'm a writer.
This week someone called to tell us he'd just shot someone (it turned out to be false). As a bevy of young police officers set up on the house, one of the SWAT guys organized the inner perimeter and established an immediate action team. What is that? If shooting starts in earnest they move to the sound of the guns. Hero? The men and women up close - absolutely.
That same night, probably as I was driving by in my Tacoma on the way home, a man was shot to death at a hotel. An acting supervisor (a veteran with service in Afghanistan) rushed to the scene to organize the response and begin the investigation. His relative inexperience didn't stop him from stepping up, being accountable.... Leading. In our little world courage takes many forms.
The next night, another shooting. Two officers who were already off duty (both fathers...working on Father's Day) ran out of the station, got into a police car and rushed into the fray. The suspect was found at a convenience store. Another response team formed, with many of the same individuals as the night before. The possibility of a person hiding in the store became obvious. A group of cops enter. Outside, officers discuss their "fumble" point - where they might retreat to in the event someone starts shooting at them. They decide they can't move because other officers behind them would be vulnerable. They will have to stand their ground. Those folks should get $5 off on their next haircut.
I am surrounded by brave men and women who risk a great deal in the service of their community. They are thoughtful, bright and physically imposing people who work long, erratic schedules. Every year several are injured doing a difficult job.
Professional Hero. I've met a lot of them.
Haircuts. Since returning to law enforcement in 1991 I have had to be conscious of the length of my hair. You would think that the sort of military-style cut I've come to prefer (anything else suffers under a bike helmet) would mean I could walk in almost anywhere and get what I need. But I say nay nay! I've become something of a barbershop vagabond.
In Northglenn, I visited a classic barbershop that was walking distance from the house. I tried to go in the morning - the liquid lunches the "stylists" consumed (if they weren't nipping between cuts) made the afternoon risky business. The cuts were a little erratic, too, no matter when I arrived.
Wandering the Dupont Circle neighborhood in DC, I ducked into a salon. The haircut, bestowed by a small woman speaking Vietnamese at high-speed to someone across the room, was fabulous. It started several years visiting Aveda joints. I met a stylist in one who helped me tremendously to flesh out fictional police sergeant Amy Painter. But, keeping appointments on hectic days off proved difficult.
Which eventually led me to Roosters at Colorado Mills. Rich wood tones, full-service stations and the offer of water or soft drinks on arrival. Walk in without an appointment - they pull up my profile so I don't have to remember if I prefer a two or a three. I glanced at the price list....
"Professional Hero Cut." Their regular cut, discounted for Armed Forces, police and firefighters. I told them I'm a writer.
This week someone called to tell us he'd just shot someone (it turned out to be false). As a bevy of young police officers set up on the house, one of the SWAT guys organized the inner perimeter and established an immediate action team. What is that? If shooting starts in earnest they move to the sound of the guns. Hero? The men and women up close - absolutely.
That same night, probably as I was driving by in my Tacoma on the way home, a man was shot to death at a hotel. An acting supervisor (a veteran with service in Afghanistan) rushed to the scene to organize the response and begin the investigation. His relative inexperience didn't stop him from stepping up, being accountable.... Leading. In our little world courage takes many forms.
The next night, another shooting. Two officers who were already off duty (both fathers...working on Father's Day) ran out of the station, got into a police car and rushed into the fray. The suspect was found at a convenience store. Another response team formed, with many of the same individuals as the night before. The possibility of a person hiding in the store became obvious. A group of cops enter. Outside, officers discuss their "fumble" point - where they might retreat to in the event someone starts shooting at them. They decide they can't move because other officers behind them would be vulnerable. They will have to stand their ground. Those folks should get $5 off on their next haircut.
I am surrounded by brave men and women who risk a great deal in the service of their community. They are thoughtful, bright and physically imposing people who work long, erratic schedules. Every year several are injured doing a difficult job.
Professional Hero. I've met a lot of them.
Sunday, June 15, 2014
Teach Your Children Well
"There's an old man sitting next to me, making love to his tonic and gin." Piano Man, Billy Joel (Columbia Records, 1973).
I learned how to be a man from my father. I learned how to laugh, to love and to work hard. I also learned to drink from him.
His favorite summer drink was the Gin and Tonic. Burgundy Basin Inn bartender Vinnie (his real name - he had been a Monroe County Sheriff's deputy in the '60s) never served one without priming the rim with a lime. My friend John Needham and I sat for hours, solving the problems of the world as only 20 year olds can, with Vinnie's handiwork before us.
My dad is gone, his life's work done. Tonight, I toasted him with a G&T. Happy Father's Day, you goofy old guy.
I learned how to be a man from my father. I learned how to laugh, to love and to work hard. I also learned to drink from him.His favorite summer drink was the Gin and Tonic. Burgundy Basin Inn bartender Vinnie (his real name - he had been a Monroe County Sheriff's deputy in the '60s) never served one without priming the rim with a lime. My friend John Needham and I sat for hours, solving the problems of the world as only 20 year olds can, with Vinnie's handiwork before us.
My dad is gone, his life's work done. Tonight, I toasted him with a G&T. Happy Father's Day, you goofy old guy.
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