Think I Thought I Saw You Try
Today's a pretty busy day, it seems. Even if you don't count the Rose Bowl.
In politics, the putz Jack Abramoff prepares (or so the conjecture goes) to tell us who he bribed, when, for how much, and what he got for his money. Republicans all over Washington quake in their boots; with amazing speed, and with loud declarations of shock, they fling shovels full of Abramoff money out the window in the general direction of various charities.
When was the last time you saw a bunch of Congressmen move that fast when doing government business? Even George W. Bush can't goose them that hard. But I guess people move when someone shoves a red-hot poker up the fundament, or threatens to.
I'll have more to say on Abram Jackoff later. Meantime, in other news, eleven miners died in a West Virginia mining accident and a twelfth remains in critical condition. This after their families were at first told that the men were alive and well.
I've been trying to find a way to blame the Bush administration for this cock-up, but even I'm not that deluded. Yet.
However, on a strictly personal note, I'm most intrigued by the fact that today is Michael Stipe's birthday. I have two reasons for this. One, he's the lead singer for R.E.M., one of my favorite bands, whose music accompanied me through some difficult, amazing, frightening and profound times. Two, today is also my late father's birthday.
I only just learned that my father shared a birthday with one of my favorite rock stars. Who knew?
They don't seem to have much in common. My father divorced my mother when I was very young, and although he was a thoroughly decent man – paid his child support on time, almost never missed a weekend visit – it took me years to think of him as a father. I doubt Michael Stipe will have the same problem; despite rumors in the mid-80's of a relationship between him and Natalie Merchant, he came out of the closet at about the same time as R.E.M.'s biggest hit, "Losing My Religion." (He said "I wear makeup and a dress onstage - why are you so surprised?") In fact, there are those who say that song is itself about being gay in a homophobic world. I don't quite get that myself, but you can check out the lyrics if you like.
On the other hand, like Michael Stipe (who spent something like five years with R.E.M. playing bars and pizza joints on the south Atlantic coast practically without a break), my father was a stunningly hard worker. He came from a poor background and never got to finish college, but he got into the computer business back when computers took up three rooms. He predicted ATMs and home computers back in 1976. When he had his first stroke, he referred to it as a "wake-up call" and decided it was time to take it easy.
I remember visiting him in the hospital at that time. He was a little stiff on his left side and his voice rasped because of the tube they had run down his nose before he regained consciousness, but it was his facial expression that really struck me. He looked a little worried and a little stunned, like he still couldn't quite believe what had happened to him. Mostly, though, he looked pensive. He was thinking about things he'd probably never given himself time to think about before. He told me he would be working less and enjoying life more, and he started by asking his long-time girlfriend – a woman I really liked – to marry him.
I was really looking forward to hanging out with him over the next period of years, seeing what he did with himself. With that energy of his, I figured he'd stun us all.
Then a couple of weeks later he had another stroke, much more severe, and it killed him.
While my parents were still married, my mother tells me, she would sometimes ask him to spend more time with me. His response was that although his family was the most important thing in his life, his work was more urgent. I've come to believe that his family, particularly his sons, were indeed the most important thing in his life. I've also learned that we human beings may declare what's urgent in our lives and what's not. My father never learned that himself, but he taught it to me.
Benshlomo says, Happy birthday, Dad.
In politics, the putz Jack Abramoff prepares (or so the conjecture goes) to tell us who he bribed, when, for how much, and what he got for his money. Republicans all over Washington quake in their boots; with amazing speed, and with loud declarations of shock, they fling shovels full of Abramoff money out the window in the general direction of various charities.When was the last time you saw a bunch of Congressmen move that fast when doing government business? Even George W. Bush can't goose them that hard. But I guess people move when someone shoves a red-hot poker up the fundament, or threatens to.
I'll have more to say on Abram Jackoff later. Meantime, in other news, eleven miners died in a West Virginia mining accident and a twelfth remains in critical condition. This after their families were at first told that the men were alive and well.I've been trying to find a way to blame the Bush administration for this cock-up, but even I'm not that deluded. Yet.
However, on a strictly personal note, I'm most intrigued by the fact that today is Michael Stipe's birthday. I have two reasons for this. One, he's the lead singer for R.E.M., one of my favorite bands, whose music accompanied me through some difficult, amazing, frightening and profound times. Two, today is also my late father's birthday.
I only just learned that my father shared a birthday with one of my favorite rock stars. Who knew?They don't seem to have much in common. My father divorced my mother when I was very young, and although he was a thoroughly decent man – paid his child support on time, almost never missed a weekend visit – it took me years to think of him as a father. I doubt Michael Stipe will have the same problem; despite rumors in the mid-80's of a relationship between him and Natalie Merchant, he came out of the closet at about the same time as R.E.M.'s biggest hit, "Losing My Religion." (He said "I wear makeup and a dress onstage - why are you so surprised?") In fact, there are those who say that song is itself about being gay in a homophobic world. I don't quite get that myself, but you can check out the lyrics if you like.
On the other hand, like Michael Stipe (who spent something like five years with R.E.M. playing bars and pizza joints on the south Atlantic coast practically without a break), my father was a stunningly hard worker. He came from a poor background and never got to finish college, but he got into the computer business back when computers took up three rooms. He predicted ATMs and home computers back in 1976. When he had his first stroke, he referred to it as a "wake-up call" and decided it was time to take it easy.I remember visiting him in the hospital at that time. He was a little stiff on his left side and his voice rasped because of the tube they had run down his nose before he regained consciousness, but it was his facial expression that really struck me. He looked a little worried and a little stunned, like he still couldn't quite believe what had happened to him. Mostly, though, he looked pensive. He was thinking about things he'd probably never given himself time to think about before. He told me he would be working less and enjoying life more, and he started by asking his long-time girlfriend – a woman I really liked – to marry him.I was really looking forward to hanging out with him over the next period of years, seeing what he did with himself. With that energy of his, I figured he'd stun us all.
Then a couple of weeks later he had another stroke, much more severe, and it killed him.
While my parents were still married, my mother tells me, she would sometimes ask him to spend more time with me. His response was that although his family was the most important thing in his life, his work was more urgent. I've come to believe that his family, particularly his sons, were indeed the most important thing in his life. I've also learned that we human beings may declare what's urgent in our lives and what's not. My father never learned that himself, but he taught it to me.Benshlomo says, Happy birthday, Dad.
posted by benshlomo at 12:24 PM
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