A coworker told me he couldn’t stand basketball. That it is now dominated by superstars more concerned with their own stats and showboating. Well last night a group of superstars got blown out by a real team.
Congrats to Larry Brown and the Pistons from us folks in Philly.
David Cortner took some beautiful pictures of yesterday’s event.
We gathered in Olney yesterday, at the home of my sister-in-law’s parents, for my brother’s 30th birthday party. A diverse group really. Conversations about current events, Smarty Jones, comics, movies, relationships, went freely. But on this day we were not just Democrats or Republicans – we were Dante’s family and friends, someone we all loved and respected very much.
That afternoon two events would reinforce that unity. When the news was heard over the TV that President Reagan had died, we came around the TV and murmured to each other what he had meant to each of us. Sure there were objections to policies, and there were doubts about the true effect he had on the cold war, but one thing was certain – he was a President that made us feel good about ourselves and the future.
And whatever else history may say about me when I’m gone, I hope it will record that I appealed to your best hopes, not your worst fears, to your confidence rather than your doubts.
President Reagan’s 1992 Convention Speech.
Read that quote again. Think it’s George W. Bush’s hope? A president whose henchmen emphasize our darkest fears and doubts to justify its policies? He will, as Dave Winer says, attempt to use Reagan as his running mate. Let’s hope people’s short memories don’t forget the many speeches and actions that prove just how far from the Reagan message the man is. Then again, it is our faulty memories that raise Reagan’s status in our minds, not simply the facts. Sometimes the way people make us feel leaves more an imprint than what they do.
Read John Kerry’s comments for someone who is far closer to the Reagan message then the current administration.
Remember that ideals are fluid: they can reside in any party or candidate. Which candidate is the candidate of optimism? Which is the candidate of “big government”? Who believes in America more?
Later that evening, a bunch of people who had never seen a horse race, watched Smarty Jones come this close and lose. In true Philadelphia fashion. The worst part of it is, there was a group of us whose dark sense of humor just had to predict the outcome almost exactly. Me included, “watch him lose right at the finish line. We’re cursed when it comes to sports. Forever second best.”. I realize technically that’s not the case (winning two of the three triple crown races), but that’s the way everyone felt. You should have seen everyone’s faces.
It will be a memorable party.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
I never heard this poem before today when I found a powerful, deep review of the Angel finale. Go read it.
Redemption isn?t something that gets handed to you along with a certificate and a gold star saying “I?m Redeemed, Ask Me How!” It?s an ongoing struggle, and it has been the focus of the series since the beginning. After the initial shock of the ending, I realized that Joss Whedon was absolutely correct to end the series as his did. ANGEL has never been about happy endings and loose ends tied with a happy bow. It?s about fighting the good fight. That?s how it began, and that?s how it ended.
Is it possible that Angel, Spike, Gunn, and Illyria survived that final onslaught? Probably not, especially the all-too-human Charles Gunn. But that?s not the point. The point is that they fought. They made a difference and stood their ground in the face of the consequences of their actions.
From another review at DarkWorlds.
As of yesterday grandpop was breathing on his own and could speak again. He’s a little groggy, but was fully aware of his surroundings and all of us present. He’s still in some dire straights, but finally there is hope.
We owe it to a nurse who spoke up and told us she was liable to get in trouble for it. Literally a guardian angel. If she didn’t step in when she did, Monday morning, grandpop wouldn’t be here right now. Richelle wants me to post a summary of what occurred, and I will once we collect our thoughts.
Thank you for your thoughts and prayers.
P.S.: For all those that are afraid to speak up in the face of authority or the supposedly more qualified – find your voice and make your stand. You just may save a life.
Just wanted to report that grandpop has made some good progress. He is now fully aware of the people around him, when awake, and although you couldn’t hear him, he asked for water tonight. Richelle was able to dab a sponge dampened with water, on his lips. Definate progress. Thanks for your well wishes.
Richelle’s grandpop started coughing up blood late Thursday night. We got the call right before the Friends finale started.
We rushed to the emergency room. First, let me share that he is stable…. we think. And it’s the “we think” that amongst all the other emotions I am feeling is making me furious.
The ambulance had taken grandpop, not to the hospital of his choice, which I believe is far closer, and where his heart doctor practices, but to old Frankford Hospital. A place I believe is far more used to working with young victims of violence then elderly facing heart conditions. When we arrived, one half of Richelle’s family was in the public waiting area: her grandmom, her aunt, and her aunt’s son. Crying and upset. We asked them how long were they here and what his status was. Over a half hour and they think he?s dead. I asked them if they were knew for sure. They said no, but he must be, he looked terrible, there was blood everywhere, the ambulance drivers had to intubate him in the home before the ride, and no one had spoken to them since.
No one had spoken to them? What?!?! I went to the admissions window and asked for an update for them.
A nurse came out a few minutes later and asked us to go to a private waiting area, where the doctor will speak with us. Richelle and me were having flashbacks to when Hunter passed away. God no. Please no.
Richelle?s mom, her father, Richelle?s sister arrived about ten minutes after.
When a doctor did come in, she told us the timeline of events that we knew already occurred, he had started to cough up blood. His heart rhythm became incompatible with life and his pacemaker had shocked him to help, which it did. And now they are fighting to stabilize his vitals. He is very critical. And they do not know the cause.
Then another doctor came in to ask consent to give medication. He asked if Richelle’s aunt was a nurse, and she answered she was the nursing assistant. The doctor took her outside the room to give her additional info. When she came back, and was not directly forthcoming tensions rose.
An hour or so later we got the news he had stabilized enough to go to ICU. They got him a CAT scan. But we were to later learn that the results of the CAT scan would not be available till Monday. The results went direct to another office and that other office had to send the results back.
When we went to the ICU waiting area, no one would give us any information. It took two hours later for us to get any kind of status update, and at that time they allowed us to see him. The update sounded exactly like what we heard before, except now they had him stable and they could rattle off a list of medicines they were giving him for his blood pressure, anxiety, and drugs to keep him immobilized. All later updates would come only after prodding by one of us. We were patient. We?d only ask every hour or so. One update told us to expect the worst – that he may have brain damage. But we were told his oxygen levels were good throughout all of this.
My impression was that they did not want to mistakenly say the wrong thing and get in trouble. They treated us like the enemy. One nurse even rolled her eyes when asked for additional details.
Richelle’s brother and fiance arrived towards midnight. They drove home from the shore. His fiance is a nurse with plenty of experience and a position in a different hospital. When they arrived, she started to ask some probing questions and they rebuffed her.
Here is where things stand now? he?s stable. He is unconscious most of the time, and whenever he does come slightly out of it he he tries to get the intubate tube out with his tongue. They quickly drug him to keep him from harming himself when he’s like that. We have no additional information from the staff at Frankford Hospital. He?s stable. They do not know the cause. He is breathing with the assistance of a breathing machine.
I am never one to ask for prayers, but I am doing so today. Richelle?s family needs your prayers.
That’s the title of a pamphlet given out at church last week. It informed me of my moral role as a Catholic voter: “Service of the common good requires citizens to fulfill their roles in the life of the political community”. In short – vote. And do not vote “for a political program or individual law that contradicts the fundamental contents of faith and morals “. So far so good.
The pamphlet listed five “non-negotiable” issues: 1. Abortion, 2. Euthanasia, 3. Fetal Stem Cell Research, 4. Human Cloning, 5. Homosexual “Marriage”.
No peacemaking, no feeding the hungry, no caring to the sick, no forgiveness and admonishment of the sinner, no instruction of the ignorant. Nothing about the death penalty. Nothing about the economy. Nothing about the environment. In short, the issues portrayed as “non-negotiable” involved me telling someone else how to live and what to do for themselves and others. It had NOTHING to do with me of us doing something for others directly.
It’s always them that needs to change isn’t it?
It disgusted me. I look at my Catholicism as a calling for me to do things, not as a guide to for me to shout down at others.
In the Presidential election, IMHO, both candidates are weak Christians.
But then again – as are we all. Isn’t that what Christianity is about? For us to take up our own crosses and help others carry theirs?
The pamphlet is online at Catholic.com. So is a brilliant article at Gadflyer that rips this hypocrisy to shreds.
Upon arriving in Williamsburg, we visited to Visitor?s Center to get our bearings and to purchase two Freedom Passes. A Freedom Pass provides admission to the tours, museums, and buses for a year. At just under $60 a piece, they were a great deal. Before leaving, we saw the movie “The Story of a Patriot”. While very old it gave us a great feel for the conflict some felt over the decision to revolt against England.
For the first of our two trips into town, we took the bus to the Capitol, on the far end of Duke of Gloucester Street. First we took a tour of Bassett Hall, former residence of the Rockerfellers. The Rockerfeller family played a huge role in getting Williamsburg restored, and they donated their home in the 1980s to the town. This stop was mostly for Richelle, I gotta admit, but I was surprised at how intimate the place felt. Comfy. The tour guide made sure to tell us how this was the Rockerfellers favorite house. Here they could be like normal folk. Talking to neighbors and walking to church.
Next stop was the gunsmith where there were craftsmen making weaponry as they would two hundred years ago.
A short walk from there was the Capitol. The building?s architecture was specifically designed to accommodate the Royal (the Governor?s Council), and the people?s (the House of Burgesses) branches of government, with a meeting area, between them. When that relationship broke down, when Boston was being threatened, it is here that Patrick Henry (“give me liberty or give me death”), Thomas Jefferson, and others were moved to encourage all to the fight. Did you know that if you were a Catholic, or a Jew, a Black or Woman, you couldn?t serve in the House of Burgesses? In fact, you had to be a White, Protestant, land owner.
Our last historic stop of the day was the Public Gaol – the jail. We learned how jailers lived and had a chance to see a few cells.
For a late lunch we hit Shields tavern. For under $50 we had a very romantic, and filling lunch. The pot roast was great. I mean great!
We finished off our day seeing the Fife and Drums team do a demonstration and then a march down The Palace Green. A big highlight for me. They were powerful. As they marched, I couldn?t help but feel a strange sense of history as everyone in attendance instinctively followed behind them.
More tomorrow…
I surprised Richelle with a week’s vacation to Colonial Williamsburg for her 30th birthday. We haven?t taken a week vacation since our honeymoon, five years ago, and we were due for some time away from it all. Williamsburg fit the bill. I don’t think it could have turned out nicer.
The historic area was a short walk away from where we were staying, the Williamsburg Hospitality House. We had one of their standard rooms, and except for the lack of a high-speed data port, which was a good thing, it was just about perfect for its affordable price. The place had an old world feel to it, which lent itself to the experience. We had three days of bad weather, so the room was definitely “lived in” by the time we left. The Hospitality House did not let us down. We’ll probably be back next time.
I haven?t been to the historical sites in Philadelphia for a while (we’re planning to soon), but the time here made me jealous. The organization behind Colonial Williamsburg truly has built a living museum. No cars are permitted into historical area, which was the first thing that struck me, but upon walking onto its main thoroughfare, Duke of Gloucester Street, it made perfect sense. We saw visiting families sitting on benches, relaxing from their exploring, kids from various school groups goofing off or just hanging out, students from the College of William and Mary jogging or playing ball on the Palace Green, while others were waiting in line for a lunch at one its historical taverns. It was alive. A real public space. And I think that was partially due to the lack of cars.
Richelle came up with an excellent plan to divide up our exploration. There is a bus that runs on the outskirts of the historic area that we used to ride to the far ends of town, and then leisurely walked back towards our hotel, taking in various tours and sights. Leisurely is the word. How strange it was not to be bombarded with the sights and sounds of modern life! I think I had some kind of internet withdrawal at first, but then came to appreciate just how natural paced everything seemed to be. Even with the thousands of people that were there with us, on those same streets, it felt intimate and warm.
I’ll post more tomorrow….