Love

The peonies are mine, the verse is by Shakespeare...

O, and I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip,
A critic, nay, a night-watch constable,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy,
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Don Cupid,
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
Th' anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colors like a tumbler's hoop!
What! I love, I sue, I seek a wife—
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all;
And among three to love the worst of all,
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch-balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard.
And I to sigh for her, to watch for her,
To pray for her, go to! It is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, groan:
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.

Berowne from Loves Labours Lost, Act IV, Scene III

Searching for Pop

In New York City there is a very special ship, an aircraft carrier, that is tied up to the docks on the Hudson. My very life was made possible because a fellow who served on this ship made decisions which delivered him safely out of harm's way. That fellow was my father and he served on the Intrepid through the fierce blitz of kamikaze attacks during World War II. They called it The War In The Pacific and Pop found himself in Fire Control, responsible for sighting, aiming and firing the big guns on board the carrier. If you were in Fire Control you were a good student, strong in math skills and a valued asset to the Navy.

I'd originally planned my New York trip in spring of 2008 but found out that the Intrepid was still being reconditioned and refitted in her role as an air and space museum so I aborted the trip. I'd always wanted to explore New York but for one reason or another never quite made it there. I finally did in March of 2009.

I saved my pilgrimage to the Intrepid for a sunny Saturday morning and planned on spending a couple of hours poking through the ship, hoping for that magical connection when I would feel Pop's presence. As rational as we think we are there is still that itch for the unbelievable, that somehow we will sense the spirit of those long gone, just like in the movies. So no, I didn't hear voices or have an out-of-body experience or collapse in a heap on the flight deck. But I was profoundly moved, impressed and almost euphoric that I was actually walking the same decks and hatches that my father had trod sixty-five years earlier. At the same time I had a sense of longing and loss, wishing that Pop could see this place and tell me every detail of what he experienced so long ago. Sauntering about this huge vessel with him would have been a revelation as he would excitedly tell me intricate details of his daily life as we turned every corner. My imagination runs wild thinking of how excited he'd be as he awakened memories that even he thought had been lost forever. But it will never happen except maybe in my dreams because Pop died suddenly back in the summer of 2002. His loss sent me into a tailspin that I wouldn't recover from for two years. But that was then, and this is now. It was time to explore this place where my father went to do his patriotic duty. A place where he found himself fighting for his very life.

"At 1248, a Zero force was detected and five minutes later, one of their number crashed into Intrepid, starting a serious fire, while another one hit the carrier Cabot. Fires were under control again, however, when at 1300 a third strike (the first strike didn't hit anything, Intrepid was hit by the second) was encountered. It dove from low height into the twisting Intrepid's deck, blowing a hole into her flight-deck and setting afire the hangar from stern to stem. Though these fires were under control quickly, their heat helped other fires throughout the ship, and the badly damaged flight deck, including her arrestor gear, made flight operations impossible. Her strike planes and CAP were taken aboard by other carriers, and Intrepid made it back to Ulithi and hence, to Pearl Harbor. The attack cost her 69 men dead and 35 seriously wounded."



Pop would be the first to tell you that he was no hero. He was just a guy trying get out of there alive, trying to do his job and just wishing he could go home. To me he's a hero but he would say otherwise. I went below deck where I found an assortment of displays and multimedia kiosks showing ship operations. I passed a museum case where a very familiar uniform was on display...



I quickly grabbed my Ipod Touch from my back pocket to access the all too familiar picture in My Family Folder. There it was, or rather, there he was...my father in the identical uniform.

This uniform was special. It was the uniform of a Fire Controlman complete with the telescope on a tripod prominently displayed on his right arm. I looked around for one of the docents, the knowledgeable old-timers who wander around the hangar deck answering the questions of the meandering visitors and tourists. I believe his name was John Gibbs and he was dressed in the familiar bright yellow T-shirt and Navy baseball cap which told everyone that he was a former crewman of this very ship. I showed John the photo of my father in his Fire Controlman's uniform and what he saw told him volumes. As soon as he knew Pop was in Fire Control he told me that only the sharpest guys with the best math skills were shunted into Fire Control. The entire fate of the ship rested on these guys to get the weaponry aimed and firing quickly so only the best were admitted to this little club. John noticed that Pop's insignia was on his right arm and therein told a tale: There was a time when the Navy put Fire Control insignias on the right arm if you were adept and on the left arm if you were average. They abandoned this practice after noticing that it created a class system with resulting jealousies and resentments. Finally the Navy decided that all patches would go on the left sleeve. If you earned that insignia, you deserved it with no caveats. But Pop's insignia was on his right arm which told John Gibbs that Pop was top drawer. He was noticeably impressed.



John hustled me over to one of the tour guides, a fellow named Sam who took great interest in my photos of Pop. He turned to the crowd of fifteen or so tourists and announced "This gentleman's father served on the Intrepid during the very kamikaze attack on November 25th of 1944 depicted on our hangar deck!" The crowd pulled closer and I showed them all the photos on the Ipod Touch, magnifying objects of interest while they drank up Pop's story. They were especially interested in the pictures of Pop taken fifteen years later while he was a Chief Petty Officer. Even the veterans marveled at his array of clusters and medals on his Chief Petty Officers's uniform. You could only get many of those honors in wartime and Pop had plenty to go around. For the better part of that hour, my father was a celebrity, a rock star whose story and pictures made all that history jump off the page for the lucky people who got a glimpse into his life. Sam told me that the Information Desk would want to know as much as possible about Pop, would I be willing to share it? Silly question. I want the whole world to know who he was and what he went through. Sam handed me off to the Information Desk and I told them as much as I could. The fellow there then called John Gibbs over and asked whether the "old timers" were still here. The old timers in question were men of my father's age who were still alive and came down on the weekends to visit and hang out with their old buddies. "We can look, let's go" he replied. So after chatting a bit more Mr. Gibbs took me below deck to a hatch that was marked "Staff Only" and asked me to climb a flight of stairs and knock on the hatch door. "This one?" I queried. "Yeah, just knock, somebody'll come". The hatch opened and a fifty-ish guy opened it wide, took a look at me, took a look at John looking up from below and said "What's up?" John explained that I was the son of a WW II Intrepid crewman, could I come in? The man smiled broadly and welcomed me into a large meeting room deep within the bowels of the ship. Inside there were six other sixty-ish guys who once filled in on my identity welcomed me like a long lost relative. "How about something to drink? A beer?" one of them asked. "Hey, I'll take a Coke if you've got it". "Comin' right up pal". These were sailors from New York. Retired now but still drawn to the extended family that the Navy will always be for them. They still come here to meet or play cards and shoot the breeze. You don't find better people than the guys you serve with and these fine men will always have each other and the Intrepid.

I told them Pop's story and showed them the pictures. One of them took a look at the sepia-toned Navy portrait of Pop circa 1941 and exclaimed "My God, he's a movie star! Look at that face. That's YOU!" Another commented "Wow, you look just like him". I was a little embarrassed, and really proud. Yeah, he's a movie star alright. Or he should have been. They were rapt with interest and expressed how sorry they were that he'd passed away. They wanted to hear as many stories as I could tell them from Pop's past, stories that I wish I'd remembered with more detail. They told me that the old timers, the men from my father's era, had just left. They come on the weekends early and leave before late afternoon kicks in. I'd just missed them. I was keenly disappointed but I somehow knew I'd be coming back here someday so my regret was somewhat muted. The guys told me how to obtain my father's service record which I needed if I wanted to reconstruct the timeline of his military service. We posed for pictures and after an hour I found that my Coke was finished and I had to leave. "My father would love to come here and shoot the shit with you guys" I said. "If he lived in New York he'd be here every day playing cards or something". Pop would have liked those guys. Those are his people and they welcomed me like family which I will never forget.



I thought I was going to spend a couple of hours with the Intrepid but somehow it had turned into four. I had come searching for Pop but only found whispers and vestiges of him. But the people I met welcomed me and accepted me without question because of his service. In one respect, they are him. But he himself remains elusive and out of reach. I'm hoping to find him the next time I visit. How great it would be to stumble upon him hitting golf balls off the fantail of the Intrepid into the Hudson. I'd hit a few and he'd then turn to me and give me that shitty grin and say "You're shagging balls today, I'd get started on that." I swear I wouldn't tell him to stick it up his ass, I'd just say "Sure Pop, anything for you".

Is it OK to discriminate against single people?

We do discriminate against them, right? If I have a co-worker that makes the same salary as I do I'll notice that they pay less in taxes because they have kids. Additionally, they will receive social services that I won't receive. Their kids will also take care of them when they're old wheras I will have nothing. In other words, the government is subsidizing them with my tax dollars to construct a retirement system (their kids) that single people will never have. Here are some other ways that single people are discriminated against, tell me if you agree or disagree and why.



• 34% claim being expected to work more weekends

• 29% claim being expected to work longer hours

• 27% claim having to attend more out-of-hours social functions

• 19% say they were expected to flirt with clients of the opposite sex

• 19% say they were expected to travel more than their hooked-up colleagues

• 67% of single men at least one form of work-related discrimination.

• 48% of single women reported a form of work discrimination.



• Tax discrimination against unmarried adults has been ignored by the media. A fair look at the entire tax picture would show that unmarried tax payers often pay higher taxes and receive fewer benefits than married tax payers



• Job benefits to an employee’s spouse are tax free, while similar benefits to an employee’s domestic partner are usually taxable by both the federal government and the state government in those states with an income tax.



• An unmarried taxpayer may not file a joint income tax return with a domestic partner or blood relative with whom the taxpayer is sharing living expenses, but married couples have the option to file a joint return which often saves them a bundle in taxes.



• In several states which criminalize unmarried cohabitation or private sexual conduct, the federal government will not allow one partner in an unmarried couple to deduct the other partner as a dependent for income tax purposes because of a clause in federal law which prohibits a dependent status if a relationship violates local law.



• Upper-income married couples reap a windfall when it comes to federal estate taxes because: (1) a person who dies may leave unlimited wealth to a surviving spouse without paying one penny in estate taxes; but (2) an unmarried person who dies with an estate over $675,000 can have anywhere between 25% to 60% of the estate taken by the federal government in estate taxes.



• Many states and local communities assess a transfer tax when title to real estate or an automobile is transferred to another person or a second name is added to the title. Transfers to a spouse are not taxable while transfers to a domestic partner or a close friend are.



• Some businesses offer "family" discounts to consumers who purchase goods or services. For example, some auto clubs will allow a motorist to add a spouse as a joint member for free or at a discount, but will require two unmarried consumers who live together to have two separate memberships.



• Unmarried couples will often pay more than married couples for auto insurance or renters insurance. That is because many companies will issue a joint policy with a family discount to a married couple but will require an unmarried couple to pay for two separate premiums.



• Unmarried workers may lose hundreds or even thousands of dollars per year in employee benefits compensation. Employers often subsidize all or a large portion of health, dental, vision, and other benefits for spouses of married employees without giving similar compensation to unmarried workers in some other form.

So what do you think? Is this acceptable in American society? If the roles were reversed would people with children be protesting? Is it our duty to support people with children through taxation and other means? Do let me know.

New rule for know-it-alls

Have you noticed how while doing this internet discourse that when two dissenting opinions converge the presumptive victor will unveil their haymaker with the word "Um"?

"Um, I hate to tell you this pal but you flush the toilet AFTER you pee-pee." Or words to that effect. The word "Um" presumes to telegraph something that every dolt on the planet knows...except the guy you're arguing with of course. "Um" denotes the point that one should have seen from the beginning, the obvious answer, the solution that even a retarded chimpanzee would have guessed.

So from here on out the previously described use of the word "Um" will be banned. You may not infer your opponent's stupidity using this rhetorical technique unless you send me a check for $159.95. I accept PayPal and Postal Money Orders as well. I have patented this one word put-down so hands off. It's mine mine mine. Go away. And um, your fly is open.

Jimmy Stewart, late night TV and a dog named Beau

We wouldn't see this on late night talk shows these days with the tendency to steer everything toward "cool" or the prized commodity of edginess. The late night hosts these days will only allow the guest to be mildly serious for a moment only to get back onto the track of FUNNY ALL THE TIME! as soon as possible. That's why I loved Johnny Carson. Like a great dancer he'd allow the guest to lead us to whatever emotional experience he had in mind and he would graciously follow. I still can't get this one appearance by Jimmy Stewart out of my head and evidently neither can the rest of America. I feel so lucky to have seen this when it happened. If you saw it you were witness to a great moment in television because there wasn't a dry eye in the house.

The Backyard Naturalist or...

The Return of the Deadly Mantis!

My new best friend is a praying mantis that I rescued from my back porch. I saw him sitting there right under the kitchen door step. I picked him up and put him on the nearby rose bush in the hope that he'd find something to eat or at least make a loooooooove connection. I came back an hour later to find him right in my path again. I thought that maybe I should invite him in and make him a gin and tonic or something. This time I transplanted him around the corner of the house amongst my bed of nasturtiums. I was sure he'd find love and happiness in the new happy hunting ground.

A week would pass before I spotted him again. I look for him religiously when I'm out in the back yard and now and then I get lucky. I found him on a berry bush trying to make his way down the wire fence to greener pastures and hopefully a bug or two to decapitate. I'd recently purchased an HD camcorder so when I spotted him I ran inside to grab it. Halfway into the house I realized I didn't need to hurry, I mean, he's not exactly Jesse Owens if you know what I mean. I could have taken an hour to return and he'd still be in that general vicinity. So why hurry? I came back to find him in the same exact position. I opened the camera and lined up my shot. Now bear in mind that I've always wanted to be a nature photographer, especially one of those lucky bastards that film for the Discovery Channel or National Geographic. So now I'm shooting and it immediately becomes clear to me what nature photographers have to deal with... boring animals. Not that the creature itself is boring, mind you, it's just that animal in question doesn't perform when the camera is rolling which makes for a rather dull video presentation. Of course as any nature photographer will tell you they will shoot about fifty minutes of film for every minute that they actually use in the finished product. The animal needs to move around, eat another helpless creature or at least lick itself. I realize that it's a little late in life for me to follow in the footsteps of David Attenborough but that really and truly was my intention. Or maybe not. I can't picture Lord Attenborough peering through the viewfinder and screaming at the top of his lungs "DO SOMETHING GODAMMIT!"

Last Of The Triffids

This guy was a surprise, a late bloom that stupefied me yesterday morning. I don't know why this one took so long to come to fruition but I was glad to see it. I had been feeling a little morose lately due to the demise of my sunflower forest. They'd had their time and while they once soared to great heights I can now feel that their time is past and a seasonal change is almost upon us. This one seems a little lonely out there all by himself amidst the dying stalks which once were his siblings. It seems odd that he's all alone while his brethren all bloomed and died out weeks ago. It made me thankful for my "little monsters" as I've come to call them. They have given me endless pleasure for the last four months and I'm thankful for this little reminder of a brilliant summer in the sun.