The fast and the furious scandal gets more infuriating today as Eric Holder scurried behind executive privilege to avoid ontempt of Congress charges.
Let’s flash back to when Obama decried the use of “executive privilege” to hide behind.
Our catch class was at our midwife’s country home. Three other expectant families gathered in her living room, shoes off, snacking and sipping, enjoying the quiet of the fading sunset. Our midwife Tosi coached us through what to expect and though this was my 2nd class (our son was born at home) I was struck by how much I didn’t catch the last time around: how to deal with the cord wrapping around the child (not a big deal), breech births, sounds as indicators of labor, when to call the midwives, and more. This class was as stark contrast to the clinical coldness of the Kaiser birthing class where we were marched into a room with dozens of other families, to be shown a movie. Hollywood tells us that birth is terrifying process, a woman screaming, doctors rushing, medical equipment beeping and humming in a race against time. Our home birth was a gradual process, beginning with the visits from our midwife (yes, try getting a doctor to do that!) to her visit the day of the birth. No alarms, no beeping, no noise, just the sounds of my wife laboring and the midwives in hushed tones helping her along the way. Midwives in general, and our midwives in particular, are women with so much experience and wisdom about birthing that it amazes me that more folks don’t use their services. Women have been giving birth since we have been human, and midwives tap into that large body of knowledge and celebrate it. They don’t mute it with machines, or negate the process with drugs, but rather explain every step of the process to explain – ‘this is why your body is doing what it is doing’ to the mothers, and to the anxious and sometimes paranoid fathers. These midwives are a living connection to a time that isn’t out of date, but more vibrant and relevant than ever.
After the class was over we said our goodbyes. I stood on a quiet road, to my right a creek, to my left a farm field, above me the Easter moon shining down on a glorious Holy Thursday evening. In the dim moonlight, I made out the figure of our midwife as she pushed a cart containing our birthing tub down an earthen path to my truck. Another father helped me load the tub onto my truck, and at that moment I was transported to a strange time and place, not the past, since I had in my pocket my iphone, nor the future, as it’s always in shadow, but a combination of all of those eras. If I close my eyes I can remember that quiet road, and I’m writing this so I can never forget it. As we drove home the scenery changed from farm fields bathed in moonlight, to the highway, to concrete, steel and neon civilization. Those surroundings however, don’t matter. From midwives disobeying the Pharaoh’s order to slay the first born children (Exodus 1:15-16) to modern women discovering the joy of bringing new life into their homes amongst family. Mothers reclaiming the birthing experience with the help of midwives are keeping alive this link from the past, which stretches to the future and weaves itself through our present. I can’t help but smile knowing we are a small part of this rich tradition. We are blessed.
Race car drivers are larger than life to children playing with toy cars as well as to grown ups daydreaming of blasting past commute traffic. Through the prism of television and the internet, these figures loom even larger. Talented humans transformed into superheros or super-villains, complete with helmets and uniforms! Sunday’s tragedy cracked (at least temporarily) these illusions, showing us the humanity behind the helmets. To everyone else it was a sad day at the track, to us motorsports fans, it was heartbreak and a reminder that nothing is guaranteed once that green flag waves.
IndyCar is a fan friendly and accessible sport. I know of no other sport where one can pay admission and walk up to future and past champions and ask them for a photo or an autograph. It’s the equivalent of paying for a baseball ticket and strolling into the dugout! For IndyCar fans who caught Dan Wheldon’s smile in the paddock, or posed for a photo next to his hauler, that human connection will remain with them forever. I’ve been fortunate to track down and photograph most of the big names in IndyCar and never caught Dan because he was as fast in the garage area as on the track. I did see him rush to practice once and stop to give a kid an autograph though, then he gave the rest of the fans a huge grin and thumbs up. IndyCar fans will get this joke : His smile was real no matter what version teeth he was flashing.
Some will say racing is about winning, others about the thrill of competition, but to me, racing is all about machines, humans and the human spirit. Men and women are the soul of the sport and without them, the cars are just empty vessels of carbon fiber and metal. We humans are similar, we are souls inhabiting vessels given to us as gifts. Without our souls, we are just sinew and tissue, eventually to turn to dust. Dan Wheldon lived his life to the fullest and was the proverbial nice guy while doing so. Rest in peace “Lionheart” thank you for the memories and may God give solace to your family and friends in this time of sadness.
Dan Wheldon At Infineon Raceway 2008
I saw this video today courtesy of the Drudge report
Pretty bad right? I mean, I have a lot of empathy for folks who are down on their luck, lord knows I’ve been there!
On the other hand, their attitude is not making any fans so in the interest of equal time I present to you a tune by the band Agnostic Front, lyrics by the late Peter Steele. RIP.
You spend your life on welfare lines
Or looking for handouts
Why don’t you go find a job
You birth more kids to up your checks
So you can buy more drugs
Cash in food stamps and get drunk
[Chorus:]
Uncle Sam takes half my pay
So you can live for free
I got a family and bills to pay
No one hands money to me
You can go to school for nothing
Got that government grant
Get money in advance
When you’re sick from shooting up
Medicaid pays full portion
When little Maria gets knocked up
She gets a free abortion
[Chorus]
How come it’s minorities who cry
Things are too tough
On TV with their gold chains
Claim they don’t have enough
I say make them clean the sewers
Don’t take no resistance
If they don’t like it go to hell
And cut their public assistance
I knew something was off the minute they stumbled out of the cab. Initially I wasn’t sure who was holding up who as both men teetered to and fro staggering towards the check cashing store. Our waiter brought our check and I turned away from the window to thank her. As we left the restaurant and walked past the Money Mart, I spotted one of the men sitting on the ground, the other man tugging at his arm. We rounded the corner and I told Amy “Take the kids to the car, let me see what’s going on” and walked back. Now the cab driver was out of his cab, rear door open, and was helping guy #1 with guy #2.
“You fellas ok?” I asked.
“We need help getting Frank into the cab” said Guy #1 ((let’s call him buddy) The Russian, eastern european cabbie nodded at me and cocked his head in the direction of Frank “Please help lift?”
Let me describe Frank to you: Picture a more disheveled Harry Dean Stanton with a shock of grey hair, wearing a collared shirt with two or three buttons buttoned, grey dickies pants with no underwear, dirty socks, no shoes, and a large bandage taped to his abdomen. His breathing was ragged and he smelled like sweat, urine and booze. Both men had their arms under one of Frank’s arms, so I gave Frank a bit of a hug and tried to drag him towards the cab. It’s at this point that I realized that Buddy was just as sloshed as Frank and wasn’t really helping the situation one bit. Frank slouched to the sidewalk leaving me and Frank in an awkward, bent over, embrace while they sat down next to us. The Russian rubbed his temples “Perhaps we to call ambulance?” he muttered. I asked Buddy “Is he ok? What’s going on?” and Buddy just waved me off “He’s fine, just got out of the hospital, FRANK – get in the cab and let’s go home” Again we got him to his feet and got maybe one more foot before he collapsed again. I felt so bad for the guy and wanted to get him out of the scorching sun so asked the cabbie to drive the cab onto the sidewalk and save us some steps. He liked that idea and drove the cab right up next to Frank. I darted back to the corner and mouthed to Amy “Just one more minute!” and ran back.
I heard a tapping/banging sound and saw the cashier in the Money Mart frantically waving to me. I walked in and she gave out a deep breath behind the bullet proof window “Finally! Hey, get that guy (Buddy) to come back in here to pick up these cards, I can’t go out there and I’m afraid a customer will slip on them.” During their visit, Frank and Buddy smashed into a display case, spilling hundreds of pre-paid calling cards to the ground. I retrieved Buddy and went back outside to check on Frank, the whole time I was thinking “These poor souls, the longer they are here, the more their fare is going to cost”. By this time the cab driver had Frank all the way into the back seat of the cab, and was waiting for us “What’s going on there?” He asked me as he pointed to the store.
“I’ll be right back” Then I opened the back door “Frank, take care of yourself ok?” He nodded to me and waved at me. Inside, Buddy was struggling with a garbage bag that the woman had slid under the customer window. I took it from him, opened it up, and scooped cards onto the counter and into the bag. I told Buddy to get going “Dude this cab is going to cost you a bunch, go!” I then waved to the woman “you ok with these up here?” She gave me a halfhearted shrug and I left.
As I exited the store a guy hit me up for change. “Hey man can you spare a dollar?”
“No sorry brother, I honestly have no cash on me” “Sheeee – you JUST left the check cashing store and you got NO money?!”
“Really I don’t. Listen, have a good night”
I shook my head and got to the car.
“What happened in there?” Amy asked
“oh man…”
I’m hoping and praying for Frank and his buddy. Frank’s friend clearly cares for him on some level though this relationship at first glance appears to be a codependent enabling mess. I have no idea what else is going on with them, and may never know, but felt I had to share this story. At the end of the day, we are all human, and even the most disheveled among us deserves a bit of dignity.
In high school a protestant buddy of mine used to recoil in horror when he’d listen to music on my walkman. Christian Dave annoyed many and befriended many more with an earnest demeanor and a huge heart that oozed aww shucks goodness.
Time after time he’d listen to my music, shudder, and then recommend me a Christian equivalent. “These guys sound like ACDC, except – they are Christian! These guys sound like Triumph, except – they are Christian! These guys sound like Accept, except, they are Christian!”
He never did find me a Christian version of Mercyful Fate.
I’ll make this short: I’m not the type of guy to drive around honking my horn, waving a flag and cheering. I however, DO celebrate the end of this military mission and the success of our nation in taking down a terrorist and give honor to all the men and women who have sacrificed so much for us to get to this point.
This was a tremendous undertaking and our President (though handling the aftermath poorly) executed (pun intended) the mission successfully and deserves credit for this.
If you are still blaming the US for 9/11, if you are an American who believes that 9/11 was an inside job, if you are a “deather” or a “birther”, a partisan, an “anarchist”, if you are a socialist utopian who decries our military involvement and yet cheered this victory as a victory for a political party and not a nation – this song is for you.
Surprisingly still relevant even though the song is almost a decade old.
The lyrics are below.
We Still Fight – Hatebreed
How do you justify (you have no right)
The way you disgrace those who gave their lives
And how do you justify (you have no right)
The way you disrespect those who’s loved ones died
Every day is a different crusade
You revolt from the safety of your fantasies
Privileged, you’ve never fought for a thing
You’d be the first to go if there was real anarchy
All your jargon makes me sick
You’re the farthest thing from an activist
You’ve lost sight of what’s important and real
You’ve taken your freedom and safety for granted
How do you justify (you have no right)
The way you disgrace those who gave their lives
And how do you justify (you have no right)
The way you disrespect those who’s loved ones died
This is dedicated to all those who have given their lives to uphold their beliefs
Not to those who try to demean their sacrifices
You have no right.
For those who fought for our rights & for those who gave their lives.
And for the families who’s loved ones died.
Its their honor for which we still fight.
I am obsessed with this song. I’m old and don’t listen to many new hardcore bands let alone attend many hardcore shows, but I want to yell these lyrics at the top of my lungs.
Enjoy.
In a world that can’t, we can.
In a world that hates, we understand.
We are some kind of love we’re at the end of our rope
We are some kind of hate we are some kind of hope
In a world that cant, we can.
In a world that hates, we understand.
In a world that wont, well we’ve got the world by the throat
We are some kind of hope
I’ll see through every inch of doubt
I am the moon when the sun goes down,
And will reflect its shine its my life.
I will define. – “I woke up today and felt my age for the first time,
In both my mind and body.
And my thoughts
Are less of fitting in and more of being a better man.” (Mike “Owen” Kinsella)
I just want to be a better man.
A wrecking ball of warmth is beating in my chest,
And my head is buried in the depths of its gentleness.
Oh God.
I am alive.
Keeping warm in a cold world
