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Sunday, January 30, 2005

The Third and Final Post about the Inauguration Jan 30th

 

You know that euphoria you feel after a big shinding like a wedding or - in this case - an inauguration? The feeling that you could go on forever and that things like sleep are for mere mortals, not a guy like you?

Yeah, neither do I.

After it was over the only thing I felt was exhausted and hungry. Since we had more than an hour before the parade began we decided to pass the time sampling the local cuisine.

The problem with this plan was that the entire city of Washington appeared closed for the day. After a fruitless half-mile search we stumbled onto a metro station, and the rest of my party decided to call it a day and return to the hotel for a nap.

I went with them, but changed my mind and hopped a return train back to D.C. Tired or not, I couldn't call it quits just yet.

I found a deli that was open (ironically, right next to the metro station), grabbed a burger, checked in with my wife, and set off to find the parade.

I couldn't find anything on the parade route itself - frankly I didn't even bother trying - but I found the staging area. Since the parade was delayed by hours, I managed a pretty good look at it without the hassle of a crowd or a long wait in the cold.

I also had my second encounter with protestors.

The first was at the inaugural itself, when four or five protesters interrupted the event and were hauled off by police. They were led off, peace signs flashing, mere feet from where I was standing. The crowd saluted them with chants of "four more years" and a scattering of choice words.

At the parade the group I saw was a bit less committed. Decked in handmade pink t-shirts covered in anti-Bush slogans, the group of young girls - not a one eighteen - was busy buying Bush t-shirts from a street vendor.

Think they were buying the shirts to deface them? I did at first, but nope.

"My Dad will love this one, " I overheard one say.

My third and final encounter with one came as I shared a cab to the airport on the way home. The woman was 'in mourning' and 'disgusted' that I was a Republican, but apparently not so much that she wouldn't spend ten minutes chatting with me at the terminal.

Later I saw footage of the parade protests, and a demonstration that became violent. But I'll give credit where it's due: for the most part everyone co-existed with politeness and ease. Frankly, if I think the only reason the violence was news at all was because there was a camera there to create the story.

[My personal take on the protests: While I recognize their right to do what they do, I find it incredibly disrespectful and think it reeks of bitterness at their defeat.. I wouldn't do it, and if I did, I wouldn't chose as my venue a national celebration that attempts to put aside political differences for a day. There are folks I don't like in the world, but I wouldn't chose their wedding or graduation to make my opinion heard.

And for the record, a word to the protestors themselves: I'm sure most of you are Everyday Joe's, so if you want to get past the 'fringe' label quit using masses of lonely, greasy haired people with canvas sneakers. And while you're at it, ditch the forty-year old guys at the airport whose only carry-on luggage were their skateboards]

Even before it officially began, I'd moved on from the parade. As I had in Boston, I spent the afternoon randomly walking around the city, wandering from the tourist-y areas of D.C. to the residential. In the course of the day I followed part of a historical walking path, stopped at a police station to use the restroom, picked up a protest flyer as a souvenir, visited a nearly-vacant shopping mall, and generally just tried to get a taste of the city itself.

[random observation: no one in Washington - from the hotel clerks to drivers to restaurant owners to a woman I asked for directions - was  born in America. Everyone not directly involved in the government seemed to be an immigrant; I can't remember hearing so many different accents in one place outside of my trip to Disney World]

By evening I was back in Maryland, and at 3:30 a.m. I was on my way to the airport for an early flight.

My trip was over, and it was time to get back to Milwaukee.

Without the help of several people my trip wouldn't have been possible. From borrowing me a tux to loaning me a garment bag or getting me a deal on plane tickets, they went beyond the call of duty. Thanks  to all of you!

Mary Dantzler, Jeff Varisco, Tre Wagner, Kathy and Ed Slapczynski, Dennis and Louise Kohn, Jeanne Scorsone, Lisa Slapczynski, Wil Domena

Saturday, January 29, 2005

New Traffic Exchange

How new is it? Up until an hour ago, you couldn't even surf the site. We'll see how it works out. BlogaZoo

The Second Post about the Inauguration Jan 29th

The tickets said the gates would open at 9 a.m, with the inaugural beginning at 11:30 (not counting a musical prelude).

I didn't mind the wait - I've stood longer for less important events - and I didn’t mind the cold. Wool socks, a pair of sweats beneath my pants, and some hand warmers would take of that.

 

But to those that know me well, the time gap presented a very important problem.

It meant nearly three hours without a bathroom break.

Alas, I have the bladder control of a eighty-year old pregnant woman.

All morning the rumor mill had said that once you passed security, access to a toilet would mean you'd have to wait in line all over again - which conceivably meant you'd miss the event. This same rumor mill raised questions about camera batteries, cell phones, hand warmers, and anything else you thought of taking with you.

Coupled with an early morning report that terrorists in Boston had nuclear capabilities, it made me just a wee bit paranoid that morning.

Paranoia, of course, usually winds up making you look foolish. Not only were there port-a-potties inside the perimeter, but we breezed through security. No one took my cell phone, questioned the odd-shaped camera battery, or hassled us in any way. It was quick, and it was efficient.

[I've heard about people that missed the inaugural because of security delays. I'm sure there were more secure areas than the one I was in, but I noticed most of the folks doing the complaining got there at or after the time listed on the ticket. You don't do that for a movie, much less the first inaugural after 9/11]

Our tickets were for the "yellow standing room" section, and while we had a pretty clean view of the podium I'd have needed binoculars to see anything more than a vague blur. Still, there was a large video screen off to my right that filled in the blanks.

One by one the people in charge of this country's destiny, past present and future, filed across the screen.

The biggest applause (short of the President): Bush 41.

The second biggest applause: Condi Rice.

The Clintons earned a snicker when they appeared. But victory earns respect, and most of the crowd tipped their proverbial hat to the man that had defeated us twice. Plus, you had to feel for the guy when Hilary was shown bopping her head frantically like Wayne and Garth - to a slow, methodical hymn.

The biggest chorus of boos: John Kerry. The monitor feed seemed to delight in showing Kerry, putting him on-screen several times. The first boos were heartfelt if tacky; the subsequent rounds childish and beneath the crowd. That's behavior best left to 'Rats, not a quarter million Republicans.

[Unseen complication: Following Kerry's appearance the monitor acted goofy and went black. After a few predictable jokes about the damage that his face could do, panic set in; without the monitor, we might as well have been watching it from the hotel. It came back on-line just in time]

[Random memories: wonderment at how Trent Lott ever got elected when he seems incapable of speaking at less than light-speed, sympathy for Hasert when he appeared to stammer administering the Vice-Presidential oath, disgust when I almost missed Bush's oath because I was so concerned with the zoom on my camera, embarrassment that I recognized one of the singers only because of her appearance on Sesame Street.]

I thought Bush's speech was well written, eloquent, and honest in its portrayal of his beliefs and ideals. Even so, I felt a little disappointed in his delivery. There were unnatural pauses and stops that were obviously for the benefit of TV at the expense of the crowd in front of him. I've seen him deliver stump speeches that sent his supporters home giddy and awed; I didn’t feel that this time.

[Imagine my surprise when a chorus of talking heads (including Democrats) raved about the speech, including a few that ranked it among the top of all time. That'd just my luck, to go down in history as one of those yokels who heard the Gettysburg Address and said "nice speech, but too short. He should've put some more effort into it."]

To sum up the inauguration itself: I waited in the cold for hours for a vague and indistinct glimpse of my President, listened to a speech I failed to appreciate, and suffered 'hat hair' for the rest of the day for my troubles.

It was an experience I wouldn't trade for the world, and the day was only half done.

To be continued . . .

Thursday, January 27, 2005

The Blogburst about Auschwitz Jan 27th


 

   
This post is part of a “blogburst” coordinated by Joseph Alexander Norland to commemorate the liberation of Auschwitz. All italics are suggested text put forth by Israpudit.

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Today marks the sixtieth anniversary of the one truly humane act in the history of the Red Army - the liberation of the Nazi concentration camp at Auschwitz on January 27th, 1945.

In all, between three and four million people, mostly Jews, but also Poles and Red Army POWs, were slaughtered in Auschwitz alone (though some authors put the number at 1.3 million). Other death camps were located at Sobibor, Chelmno, Belzec (Belzek), Majdanek and Treblinka.

In the years just after the war, with the world still reeling from six years of unparalleled death and suffering, it was easy to claim that the horror of the death camps would never be forgotten, never excused, never minimized.

But humans, perhaps by necessity, are a forgetful lot. We no longer quake in fear at the though of a Roman Legion or the Kaiser, protestors label a President they dislike a Hitler, and the terrifying Spanish Inquisition is best remembered as fodder for a Monty Python skit.

So maybe we shouldn’t be surprised to see the grandson of the Queen dressed in the costume of the Nazi regime his nation fought tooth and nail - after all, sixty years is a long time.

Sixty years before Auschwitz Grover Cleveland presided over the United States, Victoria ruled England, and Charles Dickens was hard at work on his next bestseller. The invention of the light bulb was 6 years old, the invention of the airplane 18 year away.

What’s more, the stories of the survivors, those heart-wrenching tales that brought the horror home to us, will soon be lost. What few survivors remain for the 60th anniversary will be fewer still next year, and a precious handful by the 70th. Reading the words off a page will not do the stories justice.

Now more then ever, the Holocaust is in danger of becoming just another chapter in a history text, memorized for an exam and forgotten by lunch.

Now, more then ever, is the time to remember.

It’s important to remember how the world stood by and let Hitler march across Europe - how a world let millions of men, women, and children march to their deaths because they were too concerned with the Great Depression or appeasement or whatever elseseemed more important than the lives of their fellow man.

Remember how the Holocaust wasn’t the result of evil, inflamed passions, but the calculated effect of the Wannsee conference of 1942.

The conference addressed every aspect of Nazi genocide in chillingly ordinary logic and language, e.g., " Europe will be combed through from West to East," "forcing the Jews out of the various spheres of life of the German people." Ever efficient, the participants foresaw that, "[i]n the course of the final solution and under appropriate direction, the Jews are to be utilized for work in the East in a suitable manner. In large labor columns and separated by sexes, Jews capable of working will be dispatched to these regions to build roads, and in the process a large number of them will undoubtedly drop out by way of natural attrition."

The minutes reflect an intention to dispose of "roughly eleven million Jews." This figure was derived after a horrifyingly detailed discussion of those with only partial Jewish ancestry, sparing some only a quarter Jewish, and magnanimously exempting others from evacuation only if "sterilized in order to prevent any progeny . . . Sterilization will be voluntary, but it is the precondition for remaining in the Reich."

Sixty years later our more enlightened age has brought about mass murder in Cambodia, Rwanda, Iraq, and the Sudan.

When the world marks a century since the end of the madness, may our grand-children be unable to compile such a list.

Sunday, January 23, 2005

Problem with the site

I'm aware that my pics - which showed up for, oh, an hour - have gone missing on the site.

I'll try to fix it as soon as possible, and if I can't I'll clean up the post to make the text look coherent.

*****

Update: Okay, I got some great advice on how to load the pics - but they came up bigger than the page. So I've put links in the text to the pages that hold the pics. It still isn't perfect - the pics look grainy and one shows up only occasionally - but it's better than it was.

The Post about the Inauguration Pt 1

My first impression of Washington: for a city that receives a foot and a half of snow a year, there is no place less prepared - physically or psychologically - for winter.

I arrived on Wednesday to weather identical to what I'd left behind in Wisconsin - a cold and overcast day, with a few inches of snow coming down.

I don't enjoy weather like that - any Midwesterner who claims they do is posturing for the southern folk - but it was hardly intimidating. A few weeks before I'd driven my daughter to school through seven inches of snow.

Yet my ride to the hotel lasted nearly as long as my flight.

Cars slid and fishtailed, drivers hit their brakes a city block before a stoplight, and pedestrians seemed at a loss. On ABC Peter Jennings called it a blizzard, the radio broadcast school closings, and the chatter on the streets was one of panic.

But give the town points for showmanship: the few sidewalks that were clear had red and blue road salt atop the white snow.

My second impression was more favorable. After sprucing up we headed down to the Rayburn Building to pick up tickets for the big event. Like every major city not named Milwaukee, Washington has a subway/elevated rail system. The Metro Rail proved to be a reliable, safe, and easy way to navigate the city.

Even if it is liberally decorated in '70's orange chic.

The jaunt to the Rayburn was my first taste of the grandeur of the capitol. Passing the Treasury building, with the Washington Monument and the Capitol in the background, is enough to give you shivers - doing so and then entering one of the places where Congress conducts business is awe-inspiring.

After a quick social at the congressional office we put off our next destination in favor of a little sight-seeing. Our ultimate goal was the White House, but security and event preparation limited that to a tree-obscured glimpse from a block away.

I consoled myself with the knowledge that John Kerry wouldn't get much closer in the next four years.

From there we arrived - fashionably late - at the Willard Hotel.

Once the site of a last ditch attempt to avert the Civil War

 it was host to a far less auspicious occasion - a cocktail reception for the Republican Wisconsin Congressional Delegation.

Let me tell you, Old Country Buffet has nothing on that place.

There was tortellini in Alfredosauce, seared tenderloin of black angus beef¸ an assortment of cheeses and meats, Hors d'Oeuvres that ranged from miniature beef Wellington to spinach stuffed pastries, and a desert buffet that included chocolate elephants.

It was one of the most enjoyable evenings I've had, and when my cousin wished to leave I cajoled her into staying. That was a good thing, because a surprise guest was about to take the podium.

Tommy Thompson, the former all-powerful governer of Wisconsin. Bush cabinent member, and Cupid to my wife and I, strolled in and took the room by storm.

If you are Republican, and from Wisconsin, a visit from Tommy Thompson is akin to meeting The Beatles and Elvis in the same night.

[below: me and Milw. County Executive Scott Walker]

Afterwards, we browsed the shops in downtown DC, picking up souvenirs for the folks at home.

[Secret most embarrassing moment: in a political memorabilia shop I attempted to purchase a leather bound portfolio signed by Dubya. It was not until the clerk pointed itout that I realized the signature was, in fact, the scribble of Al Gore.

Oops.]

By midnight I was asleep. The inaugural was twelve hours away.

Saturday, January 22, 2005

I'm back

I'm back in town - have been for a day and a half - but between work, a blizzard that's dropped a foot of snow, and a lack of sleep, I haven't had time to work on a post. I'll try to get one up and online by noon tomorrow - including pics.

                                                            **********

I returned early to avoid being trapped in DC by the blizzard, so my wife didn't get a chance to post - which made her happy and dissapointed me.

                                                             ***********

My rating on BE has taken a nose-dive in the last few days, dropping significantly in the wake of my Bush post. Thanks for the arbitrary '1' ratings - I 'preciate it.

 

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Quick Note

As you'll read in my post below, I'll be out of town for a few days. In my absence my wife will either post some stuff I've set aside, or - as I'd prefer - she'll take a crack at posting herself. I've been telling her to start a pregnancy blog of her own, so maybe she can get her feet wet while I'm gone.

 

The (First) Post about my Trip January 19th

Within a few hours I'll be arriving in Washington DC to attend the second inauguration of George W. Bush.

It's no secret I'm a huge fan of Dubya - heck, if this was an episode of OZ I'd wear a dress for the guy - but I never imagined I'm make it out there. I'd thought about it for a moment back in November, but contented myself with hosting a party on Inauguration Day; the moola just wasn't there.

Then my cousin called.

(She's actually the granddaughter of my maternal great-uncle - I have no idea what that actually makes her, but 'cousin' is as good as anything else, even if it unfairly groups her in the shadow of my greatness)

Until her call I didn't know there was another Republican in my family. I'm used to fans of JKF, unions, and the Tedster at family gatherings, not Reagan.

What's next, my Grandma telling me she's into S&M?

Not only is my cousin a Republican, she's apparently held in much higher esteem by the party. She was offered tickets to the inauguration, and the parade, and a congressional dinner, and one of the balls.

Yet I'm the one offering to pimp myself to the White House. Go figure.

Her husband (God bless his frugal heart!) said he wasn't going to pay to attend an event he could watch for free on TV. So she offered his ticket to me.

The decision to go wasn't as easy as you'd think. I'd just exhausted my finances on Christmas, and had only a few months to prepare a nursery for my son's arrival. Logically, saying yes was foolish and selfish.

Screw logic.

Thankfully, a lot of people rallied to give me a helping hand. My boss's husband, who works for an airline, secured me a plane ticket. My father-in-law (he of the wrathful anti-Bush tirades of October) borrowed me a tux with all the fixings. My best friend borrowed me a digital camera to replace the one I'd broken, and a newly engaged employee desperate for cash gleefully swallowed up my hours at work.

There have been bumps in the road. One of my original conversations about the event included the suggestion that I fly into Baltimore, as it was considerably closer to our hotel than D.C. Fine, I made plans to fly into Maryland.

Except it's not closer. It's forty-five minutes away, and I won't have a car.

No sooner had that been ironed out than a deal I'd brokered with the hotel fell through. Having spent six years in the hospitality industry I found a way to bypass a restriction on the reservation by chatting up one of the night clerks.

The next day I received a call from the clerk, saying her boss had called her nuts and wiped out the plan.

Of course, by then I had written my cousin to tell her that her po' relation had come through in the clutch ..

Not that I mind sleeping on the floor. The floor of a Hilton is almost certainly better than most hotel beds I've used.

Probably because most of the beds I've used rent by the hour . . .

Still, I'll miss my family and I'm upset they won't get a chance to share the trip of a lifetime. But they're happy for me.

Unlike some people.

I called a friend - a legitimate Socialist - and told him I was going to D.C.

"Why?" he said.

"For the inauguration," I said.

"To protest, I hope," he said dryly.

Ah, the diversity of our fair nation.

Monday, January 17, 2005

The One about the Evil Work of Donnie Osmond Jan 17th

Donnie Osmond has destroyed my three-year olds faith in the judicial system.

More specifically, he has shattered her belief that the police serve the common good.

I speak, of course, of Osmond's insidious portrayal of the biblical Joseph in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, an Andrew Lloyd Weber musical whose DVD version is in constant rotation at my house.

In the 'harmless' morality tale "Joseph Dreamcoat" (as my daughter calls him) is betrayed by his brothers and sold into slavery in Egypt.

That part doesn't even furrow her brow. After all, she'd trade in her baby sister for a Care Bear in a heartbeat.

A used Care Bear at that.

No, what gets her is the reenactment of Genesis 39, in which Joseph is framed and thrown into prison. Now I admit it's not the Wiggles, but I really didn't think it'd be too much for her to handle. It's a musical comedy - minutes later they all start go-go dancing for Pete's sake.

I didn't notice the harm in it until a few weeks ago when we passed a squad car that had pulled over a car on the side of the road.

"I don't like cops," my pig-tailed Catholic school kindergarten-attending daughter said. "They bad people. They put people in jail."

I was shocked - after all, it's not like we live the gansta life.

"No, they're good people. They only put bad people in jail," I said.

She shook her head. "No, they mean. They put Joseph in jail. I not go to jail Daddy, right?"

Now I'm under no illusions here. I know that the police aren't always friendly servants of the people devoted to truth and justice. I've received one too many parking tickets in my life to believe that, thank you. But I felt it unlikely that my daughter would ever have to worry about being framed by the wife of her slave owning Egyptian master and cast into the Pharoh's dungeon.

Plus my father-in-law was a cop, and two of my friends are on the force. Her strongly held opinion might make a summer BBQ a tad awkward.

And it would certainly end that moratorium on receiving parking tickets . .

I assumed the opinion would pass as quickly as it was formed. Nope. Apparently those Head & Shoulders commercials about the importance of a first impression are more philosophical than I imagined.

And for me, there's something eerie about having your three-year-old duck and stick out her tongue whenever you pass a police station.

So I've tried to alter her opinion. I explained to her that Joseph was a very long time ago, and besides, he triumphed in the end.

Not good enough. It was the act that bothered her, not the long-term results of it.

I tried explaining that I knew some police officers, and therefore so did she.

That just ruined her opinion of my friends.

I tried saying Joseph was just a story, and pointed out Mr. "Osmond" on an episode of $25,000 Pyramid.

She didn't buy it. Donnie Osmond without long hair wasn't, couldn't be Joseph.

So I'm at a loss. I'm confident she'll get over it and adopt a more socially responsible view in time. Meanwhile she's adopted a policy of civil disobedience at school, at home, and in any store where she doesn't get her way.

It's like the girl can't enjoy a good nights sleep without running us ragged.

I've never visited Utah, but if I ever get the chance . . Donnie Osmond, you and I are going to have a little talk.

Outside.