2005 archive

For the first time in a long time, I saw a price under $3.00, at the Claymont, Del., Wawa. Wawas tend to have the lowest prices and therefore tend to drag down the prices of everyone around.

For the last few days, the Exxon Stations seem to be the highest priced. Maybe that’s why Exxon is doing so well.

Paulsboro, NJ, Exxon (TA Truck Stop), $3.12.

Paulsboro, NJ, Amoco (across from the truck stop), $3.14.

Penny Hill (near Bellefonte), Del., BP, $3.15.

Penny Hill, (near Bellefonte), Del, Exxon, $3.29.

Claymont, Del., Exxon, $3.32 (back on top where he usually is), $3.27

Claymont, Del., Sunoco (just reopened after a pump transplant), $3.15.

Claymont, Del, Getty, $3.05.

Claymont, Del., Shell, $3.14.

Claymont, Del., Gulf (Cumberland Farms), $3.09.

Claymont, Del, Gulf (Joe and Tony’s), $3.14.

Claymont, Del, Wawa, $2.99.

Claude Lewis had a disturbing column in the Philadelphia Inquirer yesterday, in which he told how

A 17-year-old youth walked into an Italian restaurant in Burlington, N.J., to order two large pizzas.

Emblazoned on his white T-shirt was a large yellow smiley face with the tip of a cat’s tail protruding from of the smiley’s mouth. Beneath the design was an explicitly depraved, three-word sentence that would offend almost any woman.

The owner of the pizza shop refused service, and the youth left and came back with his mother to show that she approved of his tee-shirt. The owner ordered them both out, and Mama threatened to go to the cops. Mr. Lewis concluded with these remarks:

In a civilized society, we must express outrage when people are intentionally discourteous. Parents who defend rudeness by their children when teachers demand respect do an injustice to all of society. In the privacy of one’s home, lesser standards may be tolerated, but in public places conduct must be regulated. There is also the unwritten law of cohesion that calls for propriety everywhere we travel. Only when parents abdicate their responsibility do we need specific ordinances to govern disobedience.

The level of public discourse in the USA has gone done the tubes. Frankly, I don’t care how people comport themselves in private, but politeness and courtesy seems to have disappeared from the public spaces. I hear words every day, even at work, in the most casual way, that I didn’t even know were words until I was 15 years old.

And I hear them–all but two–on the little bit of television I watch.

This has nothing to do with freedom of speech. Freedom of speech is not freedom to be rude, though many seem to think it is. I frankly am tired of hearing George Carlin’s seven forbidden words minus two on television and on the street, from 10-year-olds and 70-year-olds.

I think Mr. Lewis’s column deserves a good read. It will be available on-line for about a week.

Christopher Rabb of Afro-Netizen objected to referring to the victims of Katrina as “refugees” and seems to have started a little tempest in a teapot. Here’s part of his first post on the topic:

Hurricane Katrina victims are Americans!

I don’t recall the media referring to Hurricane Andrew victims in ’92 as refugees. Do you? (Follow the link above to read more.)

So much so that he today published a follow-up post, in which he said, in part,

Both “refugees” and “you people” — or “the blacks”, for that matter — are clear and straight-forward terms and expressions.

So, for those of you who are part of the torrent of the readers who have lambasted me recently about criticizing the media’s use of the word “refugees” to describe the largely Black Americans who’ve been hit by Hurricane Katrina, I welcome you to start a conversation with a group of Black people with “you people” or “the blacks” and tell me if you feel connotations are not as valid as technical denotations.

So I went to the source, Merriam-Webster’s, and found this:

Main Entry: ref·u·gee
Pronunciation: “re-fyu-‘jE, ‘re-fyu-”
Function: noun
Etymology: French réfugié, past participle of (se) réfugier to take refuge, from Latin refugium
: one that flees; especially : a person who flees to a foreign country or power to escape danger or persecution
– ref·u·gee·ism /-“i-z&m/ noun

It is quite clear from the definition of the word that Mr. Rabb is on to something. The word refugee definitely has a connotation, if not a denotation, of “otherness.”

Geoff Nunberg had a interesting take on this on today’s Fresh Air.

I posted in another forum (alt.aol.tricks) the following comment:

Rather, I think that there are persons in this country (indeed, in any country) for whom the poor and the disenfranchised and the minorities simple do not exist. They don’t see them at all. So they become definitely not a factor in any policy decision.

Stripped of its facade, evil is truly pedestrian and banal.

The people who were incapable of leaving New Orleans because they did not have vehicles were not on anyone’s radar. Public transportation out of New Orleans shut down well before the storm. And folks were left to fend for themselves.

And now the federal administration is blaming the victims.

Now, I’m a Southern boy. I grew up under Jim Crow and went to segregated schools, white schools. It seemed normal to me because that was all I knew until the 1960s. I know now it was not normal–that, in fact, it was part of the great evil underside to our history.

And I also know bigotry when I see it. And the worst bigotry is when bigotry becomes so normal that no one sees it when it is there.

Woodbury, NJ, Exxon, $3.41.

Woodbury, NJ, Coastal, $3.20 (there’s a Coastal refinery five miles away).

Woodbury, NJ, Enrite and Wawa, $3.12.

Claymont, Del., Exxon, $3.32.

Claymont, Del, Getty, $3.15.

Claymont, Del., Shell, (whoops! missed this one today).

Claymont, Del., Gulf (Cumberland Farms), $3.13 (not quite the lowest, but he’s getting back down there, where he usually is).

Claymont, Del., Gulf (Joe and Tony’s), $3.29.

Claymont, Del, Wawa, $3.09.

Holly Oak Mobil, Wilmington, Del., (just reopened), $3.12.

An interesting collection of opinions:

Are we number one? Harold Meyerson isn’t sure.

Even as Mr. Bush claims he doesn’t want to play the blame game, the Karl Rove character assassination game goes into high gear.

Now, I’m not a big Bush fan, but it is not taking political sides to observe that this administration has always played the game of character assassination, from starting rumors during the South Carolina primary in 2000 that John McCain had an illegitimate child by a black woman to the whole “Swift Boat Veterans for Truth” scam.

And they have gotten away with it because Americans, by and large, want to believe that their candidates are, at least, reasonably honest; therefore, bald-faced lies get a hearing. And the politicians on the other side (whichever side it is) expect attacks that twist and spin their statements, but don’t expect attacks that are bald-faced lies, so, when they are presented with those attacks, they don’t know how to respond.

In other news, it looks like a bunch of left-leaning bloggers got sucked into a misrepresentation of what a German news report actually said. Here’s how Daniel Rubin summarized it on Blinq:

The Dutchman, Frank Tiggelaar, wrote that unlike CNN, “PDF News reported that the president’s visit was a completely staged event. Their crew witnessed how the open air food distribution point Bush visited in front of the cameras was torn down immediately after the president and the herd of NeWS people had left and that others which were allegedly being set up were abandoned at the same time.”

Only one problem. He was wrong. I asked Inquirer reporter Christian Meier, a six-month fellow from Bonn, to translate the Sept. 2 PDF report.

[EDITORIAL MODE ON]

I have nothing against opinions and against expressing opinions–heaven knows, I have enough of my own and I’m not shy about expressing them in the appropriate forums–but, before we express them, we should try to determine the facts. Our opinions should be based on the facts, not vice versa.

Facts cannot be based on opinions–the moment we use opinions to create facts, we are no longer dealing in facts. We are dealing in lies.

And that something appears on the internet does not make it a fact. Indeed, the gossipy old ladies in my home town were a more reliable source of information than the internet.

Check it once, check it twice, and check it once again.

[EDITORIAL MODE OFF]

I missed day 5. I didn’t leave the house. I’m back to my normal stamping grounds, and here’s what I observed:

Paulsboro, NJ, Exxon (TA Truck Stop), $3.12.

Paulsboro, NJ, Amoco (across from the truck stop), $3.14.

Paulsboro, NJ, LubOil (downtown Paulsboro), $3.13.

Claymont, Del., Exxon, $3.32 (back on top where he usually is).

Claymont, Del, Getty, $3.15.

Claymont, Del., Shell, $3.17.

Claymont, Del., Gulf (Cumberland Farms), $3.17 (not quite the lowest, but he’s getting back down there, where he usually is).

Claymont, Del, Gulf (Joe and Tony’s), $3.26.

Claymont, Del, Wawa, $3.15.

I think I’ve OD’d on the news for a while. I have been listening to WHYY and fully two-thirds of the programs today and yesterday were about the storm and the floods in Mississippi and Louisiana. For a while, my mind just stopped processing the information, though finally it appears that the tide, so to speak, is turning.

Bill Shein had several strong posts on his blog, including this one:

White House declared a disaster area

In another forum, I delivered this opinion in a discussion about whether the national response to the Katrina situation was malevolent. (I’m FWB in the posting list).

Rather, I think that there are persons in this country (indeed, in any
country) for whom the poor and the disenfranchised and the minorities
simply do not exist. They don’t see them at all. So they become
definitely not a factor in any policy decision.

And I hold to it. To a certain class of persons in this country, some folks just don’t exist–they aren’t on the radar.

Bill Shein also latched onto a very revealing quotation from Barbara Bush, discussed under the heading, Another Revealing Comment from the Former First Lady.

Here’s the president’s mother Barbara Bush, commenting on what she saw while visiting refugees evacuated to the Houston Astrodome: “And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway, so this (she chuckled slightly) — this is working very well for them.”

Reinforcing my opinion that the poor are not on their radar.

Amy Alkon, who is definitely not a Michael Moore fan, had this to say about Michael Moore’s open letter to George Bush.

The Guy’s Got A Point…Or Ten
I’m not a Democrat, and I don’t like Michael Moore (for the same reason I don’t like Ann Coulter — because I don’t like liars), but he’s right on with this letter.

Daniel Rubin had another powerful post on Blinq under the heading, Things We Read Today.

Bush calls for probe of Katrina fiasco (just not right now, which makes sense to me; there are lives to save). But my gut reaction is this:
Pot, kettle, black.

The most distressing thing I have heard is the stories of families separated by the rescuers. It’s like, come on, guys, get a clue.

If you want to listen to things first hand, as they happen, go to WWL-AM radio. (It’s Windows Media Player streaming audio.) Thanks to Steve Griffin for the link.

I remember listening to this station when I was a kid–“WWL-AM, your clear channel station from New Orleans.” In those days, “clear channel” meant that there were no other stations on that frequency, so, thanks to the skip, you could hear the station all over the country at night. They would send out greetings to and from truckers in every corner of the lower 48.

Yesterday, as I was coming to a stop at a light, I saw her in my rearview mirror–she was flicking ashes from her cigarette out the window with one hand and holding a cell phone to her ear with the other.

I don’t know what she was driving with, but, whatever it was, it was not connected to her brain.

Back when cell phones were new (and were called “car phones”), I was at 29th and Market in Philadelphia waiting to cross to 30th Street Station to catch my train home. I saw this guy come around the turn from Market to 29th. He was eating a hamburger with one hand and holding a car phone with another. I think I knew what he was driving with: the head with no brains.

And I see this type of stuff a lot. I have been in two near-collisions with cell phone users (both men) who did not notice that the road was going around a curve and they were not. I’ve curtailed my own cell phone use when I’m driving–I will answer calls from my son and my brother, and that’s about it. And, if it looks like a long call, I pull off the road.

New Jersey, where I work, has outlawed hand-held cell phones for drivers. You can’t tell it from the drivers on the road.

One behavior I see frequently seems to be a predominantly female behavior. I see it leaving work, leaving the mall, leaving the market. Women get in their cars and stick phones in their ears before they have even gotten the key in the ignition. They seem to view their cars as phone booths from which to conduct their lives. Don’t they have lives that aren’t inside that gadget?

Men seem to be more likely to use headsets. I see many men (and some women) driving down the road with headsets ready, even though they may not be talking at the time. And the fancier the headset, the more men seem to fall for them. I think some men like dressing up like Jet Jackson, Space Commando.

In a way, I can understand–not approve, but understand–sales persons, consultants, lawyers, real estate agents, and the like, whose time definitely is money, letting themselves be sucked into the cell phone jungle. What a great way to rack up billable hours or turn suspects into prospects–turning your driving time, which used to be downtime, into income.

Oh, yeah, and these wireless headsets. People walking around with blinking light things stuck in their ears. Shades of the Matrix. They are turning themselves into R2D2, but without the intelligence level. I saw a fellow yesterday who couldn’t take the darn thing off his ear long enough to have breakfast with his wife. Then, again, he and his wife did look like they had been married a long time, so maybe he didn’t want to listen to her any more.

But I like my life. It’s not much, but it’s the only one I have, and I wish these people would hang the heck up and look where they are going.

Oh, yeah. Get your bumper sticker here. All it costs is two first class stamps.

Blinq has a powerful post lining up photos of the destruction in Louisiana and Mississippi with the lyrics of Bob Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall.”

I have always enjoyed driving. Like most American drivers, I think I’m pretty good at it.

The difference is, I’m right.

And the drive to Pine View Farm this weekend further confirmed it.

Herewith I list the most irritating habits of the average bad driver (by “average bad driver,” I exclude the obviously bad driver–the aggressive lane switcher, the 20+ mph over the speed limit speeder, the drunk, and their companions).

Here are my nominations for the most irritating habits of the average bad driver (in no particular order):

1. Swinging left to make a right turn (or right to make a left turn)–the mark of the true incompetent. I watched a fellow today make a right at an intersection. He actually swung into the left lane to do so. And he was driving some tiny little rice-burner.

2. Varying speed for no reason (I use cruise control whenever I can–give it a try. It will open your eyes to the failure of others to pay attention to the speedometer). I was behind another bozo (apologies to Bozo) the other day who kept slowing down for turns. Now, he was going 60 (speed limit 55) on a road engineered for 70 mph speeds. Why was he slowing down for curves? Because he was a stupid git.

3. Speeding up when being passed (overtaken, for the British amongst us)–a subset of not paying attention. Not a new behavior–it can easily happen to anyone who’s not blinkin’ paying attention. Culprits these days seem to do it with cell phones in their ears, but I suspect they would do it anyway.

4. Wrong speed in the wrong lane. On my way down the road yesterday, there was another bozo who planted himself in the left lane and then drove as if he were the only person on the road–blocking traffic and backing up passers. I won’t say what the Perdue truck driver called him, but the trucker and I had a good time chatting about him for about five miles. Ultimately, Mr. Perdue pushed him out of the way into the right lane (left for the British amongst us) so the rest of the world could beat feet down the road.

5. Two (or more) vehicles travelling together and not realizing that they can do it safely more than 10 feet apart. Especially these days when everyone has a cell phone.

6. Trying to pass on the right, only to find that everyone else was in the left lane for a reason–the driver in the right lane was going slower than everyone else. Then, of course, rocketing back in the left lane with but a hair of distance between them and the poor victim they cut off. (In the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, substitue left for right and versa vice). (I guess they will start driving on the right–that is, correct–side of the road about the time we USAns start using the metric system. Oh, well.)

7. (This seems to be a relative new phenomenon) Knowing that you are going a steady speed, and therefore (one would hope) long-knowing that they are going to pass you (since they have been gaining on you ever since you came into their sight five miles ago), running right up on your rear end before moving into the completely empty left lane with only a few feet to separate them from your rear bumper in order to overtake you. (This seems to be especially characteristic of 20- and 30-something female drivers–maybe they should hang up their cell phones and look at the road!)

8. Running up on your rear end at high speed, tailgating you for three miles, then realizing, oh my goodness! there’s a passing lane and all they have to do is move to the left (right for the Brits) to resume previous aforesaid high speed.

Jeez, and did I get sick of overloaded SUV’s with luggage carriers on the top and bicycles on the back. With vehicles that big, why the heck do they need luggage carriers? And there should be room inside for the bicycles. Really, those things are rolling apartments, for heaven’s sake.

I’m sure I’ll think of more. Nominations for the list are welcome.

Seems to have been a failure. The batteries in my little tape recorder that I used to take notes died. They didn’t die enough to kill playback, but they died enough to kill record.

So here are my observations:

Prices in Virginia remained unchanged.

I caught only one price in Maryland, near the town of Berlin (I came back a different way), and I think it was somewhere around $3.15, but I am old and my memory is weak.

Prices in Delaware were once again all over the map, but $3.29 seemed to be the most common one. The highest I recall seeing was $3.39. The lowest was $3.0-something (I think $3.05) at the Smyrna 7-11. The Valero across the street was a penny more. There was no particular geographic pattern.

The wide variety of prices extended the length of the state. It’s worth observing the prices as you drive around so that, when you get low on fuel, you know who is less expensive (I nearly typed “cheaper,” but somehow the word “cheap” seems inappropriate here, even though in its literal meaning it might be appropriate.)

I saw no stations without fuel for sale.

By the way, if you use walkie-talkies (including those “personal FRS radios,” keep this in mind: transmit dies before receive. So you can be listening and not know the other person can’t hear you because you’re not transmitting. It takes more enery to send than it does to receive, just as it takes more energy to record than it does to play.

I drove to Pine View Farm today, to take care of some family business and visit my mother in the home. I tracked the gas prices on my drive down. I started at Wilmington, Delaware, and ended up on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. Along the way, I passed through the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

Here’s what I observed (I have left off all the 9/10s). I will be returning tomorrow, not quite by the same route, but close. I’ll be curious to see whether there have been any changes:

In Delaware, gas prices were in the low three dollar range, but with a wide variation.

South of Wilmington, they ranged from 3.19 to 3.29. One anomaly I noticed was this: there were two Wawas along the way within a few miles of each other. One was 3.19 and one was 3.29.

In Smyrna, Delaware, the two gas stations I observed from the road were both BPs. One was 3.29; one was 3.39.

In south Dover, I saw a Valero and a Exxon, both at 3.19, and a BP at 3.24.

The Felton, Del., Shore Stop was at 3.09. The Woodside Shell was at 3.19 and the Mobil was at 3.29 (they are pretty much right across the street from each other).

In Harrington, the Hub of Delaware, site of the State Fair, the BP and Valero were at 3.19, the Sun at 3.39, and the Citgo at 3.09.

In Greenwood, Del. (a notorious speed trap–all Delawareans obey the speed limit there and all Pennsylvanians and Jerseyites, er, pardon me, New Jerseyans, get tagged), the Shore Stop was at 3.09.

In Bridgeville, getting towards the southern end of Delaware, prices had a wide range. The BP and Royal Farms were at 3.35, one of the highest prices I saw. Another BP was all the way up to 3.37. But the Valero was only 3.09. (Note that, usually, Royal Farms underprices everyone else, but, apparently, not any more.)

In Seaford, prices were also high: Exxon 3.29, TruBlu 3.35 (TruBlu is a “noname” gas that is usually cheaper than the name brands), and Royal Farms 3.35.

In Laurel, Del., about 10 miles south of Seaford and 10 miles north of the Maryland line, Exxon was at 3.26, Royal Farms at 3.36, and Sunoco at 3.39.

Crossing into Maryland, in Delmar (the town too big for one state), the Shell was 3.09. North of Salisbury, Md, home of Perdue, everything was at 3.24 except the Shell (3.29).

Just south of Salisbury, the Valero was at 3.19 and the Shell at 3.29.

In the town of Princess Anne, the Shell was 3.09 and the Exxon at 3.29.

In Pocomoke City, Md., the lone station I saw, a Citgo, was at 3.09.

Once I got into Virginia, almost everyone was at 2.99. The exceptions were a BP in Tasley (3.19), a Valero (3.27) and an Exxon (3.19) in Onley, a Valero in Painter (3.27), and a “no name” in Exmore at 3.27.

Personally, I bet they are all higher tomorrow.

Prices I saw as I went to work today.

Claymont, Del., Exxon, $2.93 (and he’s usually the highest along my commute).

Claymont, Del, Cumberland Farms (Gulf), $3.10 (and he’s usually the lowest). (At first, I typed Gult instead of Gulf. Maybe I should have left it as “Guilt.”)

Claymont, Del., Getty, $3.08.

Woodbury, NJ, LubOil, $3.10.

Updates will be coming.

(later)

On the drive home:

Paulsboro, NJ, Exxon (TA Truck Stop), $3.05.

Claymont Gulf (Cumberland Farms), $3.41.

Claymont Getty, $3.35

It’s starting to sound like Lord of the Flies.

And political accusations are starting to get dirty. I’m not going to rehash them here, but Blinq has an excellent assortment in the item, If We All Got Our News by Blog posted today.

Nevertheless, one has to wonder whether Mr. Bush or his handlers are truly in touch with what’s going on. In particular, his statement that no one anticipated that the levees might break is at odds with a decade of history. Reuters today had an item tracing the history of predictions of what might happen if that took place.

E. J. Dionne had some trenchant comments for those who seem to think that government is a bad thing and must be emasculated through tax cuts.

I do think it’s clear that the mayor loves his city and is very frustrated at the slowness of help. I think it’s still too soon to know whether his complaints are justified.

I have two dogs. Oddy enough, neither one was my pick. One I inherited from my ex-wife. The other I took in when my ex-girlfriend was facing moving and expected that she would end up in a place where she could not have pets.

One is a Yorkie, though I suspect there have been interlopers in the bloodline–he’s twice as big as a Yorkie is supposed to get (15 pounds). And he is all dog–he digs, he barks, he chases. One morning, I watched him take on a deer that had come into the back yard. He had no fear, and he chased that deer away. And I would bet that yearling buck outweighed him 20 times.

The other is an I-don’t-know. Best guess is she is half Lab and half Cocker Spaniel. She looks like a six-month-old Lab when her fur is cut back; but, when the fur comes in, she’s as curly as a Cocker. She’s also a diva–she pretty much wants to be waited on. Indeed, the only doggy treats she will tolerate are Beggin’ Strips and Meaty Bones. If she is offered any other treat, she will look at it, sniff it, and walk away.

I recently inherited a cat from my father. Now, this was a farm cat, an outdoor cat.

I was worried about taking her in and making her an indoor suburban cat, but she took to the litter box right away. For a couple of weeks, she has major problems with the dogs–major fear on her part. But the fear did not keep her from standing up to them. They quickly learned that this little orange and white creature was packing five knives on each paw. The first couple of days, the most common sound in the house were a series of cat hisses followed by doggy yelps of pain.

At this point, some two months later, Diva Dog and the cat get along fine. She doesn’t bother the cat and the cat doesn’t bother her. In fact, the cat has actually been observed trying to rub against the dogs legs while the dog licks her head.

Yorkie boy, on the other hand, being a Yorkie and excitable, keeps barking and jumping. Now, I know this behavior well. It’s the same behavior he shows when he’s trying to play with another dog.

It doesn’t work with cats.

Moral: Jumping around and making a lot of noise is not the always the best way to make friends. Sometimes, it’s best to be quiet and listen.

The news is worse today. It reminds me of science fiction stories I read as a kid in which the nuclear war had come and gone and left the populace in a state little removed from the state described by Thomas Hobbes:

Whatsoever therefore is consequent to a time of war, where every man is enemy to every man, the same consequent to the time wherein men live without other security than what their own strength and their own invention shall furnish them withal. In such condition there is no place for industry, because the fruit thereof is uncertain: and consequently no culture of the earth; no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be imported by sea; no commodious building; no instruments of moving and removing such things as require much force; no knowledge of the face of the earth; no account of time; no arts; no letters; no society; and which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.

Lucia Herndon in todays Philadelphia Inquirer had some arresting observations about the coverage of the looting by the media:

Looting occurs whenever law and order breaks down as a result of disasters natural or manmade. But since the advent of television, looting seems to be a black thing. From the Watts riots in the 1960s to today, you can count on pictures of black folk hightailing it away from some store with electronic appliances, jewelry and furniture.

You can read more at the Inquirer website. I think her observations are worth thinking about.

And, yesterday, Andrei Codrescu had a poignant comment about the fate of New Orleans, his adopted city. You can listen to it here.

Today some few persons started shooting at the helicopters that were trying to bring help.

I can’t help feeling that it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.

Q. How do you know there is a teenager in the house?

A. The icetrays in the freezer are empty.

My father died on May 7. He was 82. He and my mother were about seven weeks shy of their 60th wedding anniversay.

The other day, a friend of mine asked why I thought their marriage has lasted so long. The question was made more poignant because I am twice-divorced, the friend who posed the question is divorced, and my brother is divorced.

Here are my thoughts in response to that question:

I think my father was in charge. I don’t mean that he was a dictator or anything–he certainly wasn’t–but that it was established early that he would have the final say in things. This got worked out when my grandfather had a heart attack in the late 1940s.

At the time, my father was doing research at the Ag. Experimental station in Virginia Beach and planning to get a Masters. My grandmother–his mother–wanted him to come home and work the farm. He did. My mother told me many years later that she didn’t like it when it happened, but that it had worked out for the best.

I think from that point it was pretty much established that, if she had 50 votes, he had 51. But there were damn few decisions that came down to that kind of vote–changing jobs, which he did a couple of times, and always successfully–was the primary one.

Don’t think I’m saying the man has to be in charge. What I am saying is that a couple has to recognize that there are going to be some decisions come along that one person just isn’t going to like, and he or she has to live with them and make the best of them if the relationship will survive.

It’s called “compromise,” my friends. And compromise means that sometimes we don’t get what we want.

I also think that they had plenty of friends, relatives, and acquaintances. One thing I believe is that men and women–especially women, perhaps, these days-expect too much from their partners. I don’t think a husband or wife can be spouse, lover, best friend, confident, and social buddy all in one. No husband can be the kind of friend a best girlfriend can be for a woman. No woman can be the same kind of friend that a best guy friend can be for a man. Men and women are simply wired too differently in what they want and expect from their friends.

Yet families these days are so separated from having nucleus or a circle of friends–how many people don’t even know their neighbors?–they expect their partner to fill all the roles that several people are needed to fill. And the partner will certainly fail, because it’s just too much to ask.

I also don’t think that either my father or my mother thought he or she had a “right to be happy.” There is no such right. They thought they had a responsibility to try to do good. They did, and, as a result, they were happy.

I spent a lot of time on the support boards when my marriage was entering the slow break up. One thing I saw over and over again was the statement, “I have a right to be happy.”

What a red flag! It was immediately followed by some kind of justification for doing something bad–having an affair, gambling away the savings, running away from responsibilities.

There is no “right to be happy.” Rather, there is an obligation to do one’s duty. That is the highest calling.

I know one person in New Orleans, at least as well as you can know someone with whom you’ve traded newsgroup posts for almost 10 years.

We heard from him today. He posted today to alt.aol.tricks, where we hang out, that he got out. He’s safe with his family at his sister’s in western Florida.

The Philadelphia Inquirer filled two thirds of the front page with this picture. The little tiny web-based JPG does not do the printed version justice.

It shows a sea filled with the roofs fading off towards downtown in the background. The picture at the link is too small show the blue expanse of what used to be Lake Pontchartrain filling the streets and yards and alleys of what used to be a city.

I can’t say I’m surprised at reports of looting. Those who could not or chose not to evacuate pretty much have nothing left–no food, no water, no spare clothing. Nevertheless, I can find no sympathy for those who have chosen to take advantage of this disaster to stock up on DVD players, televisions, and other such luxuries. And I wonder, how many are stocking up on guns and ammo?

And, for that matter, what are they going to plug all those Xboxes into, anyway?

Stray thought–not only have I-10 and many other highways collapsed along the Gulf Coast. So to has the “information super-highway” collapsed along the coast. I can type all I want, but the people I’m typing about will probably never see it. By the time they are online again, today will be old news.

Granted, there will be information backroads–reporters and relief personnel with fresh cell phone batteries and satellite connections, but a lot of the news will have to come to us the 20th century way–from people on the ground relaying what they are seeing and hearing by telephone, from garbled government press releases, and from eye-witnesses as they are debriefed after each day’s work.

I feel as if, since I am so bold as to put comments about this in a public place, where anyone can read them (whether or not anyone does), that I should be able to find more to say–something with profundity, with power, with import.

But I can’t.