LIES

b.o. claims he is paying no attention to the doings of one Mr. Glen Beck and his Rally.
He is doubtless lying.

We are telling the truth when we say that we do not listen to any of the b.o. speeches as they are delivered.

Rather, we read their texts on the rare occasions when we feel they are saying anything worth hearing – and we invariably look for analyses by folks we trust.

We do not lie.

b.o. should pay attention to the Rally folk because he is the President of all the American people, not just his liberal base.

Of course he is paying attention to Mr. Beck.
He is doubtless worried sick about the ‘backlash’ which is developing.
But he lies.

Of course, he does not represent anyone but those folks of his base.

We know that.
Too many folks do not know that.



And now he is declaring an end to the American involvement in Iraq.

We will see.

Can this man ever tell the truth?

CHEERS AND JEERS

It is after midnight.
And it is raining.
Thunder boomers.

And it has been a good day.

We arrived in The North yesterday, Monday, and were up till 2 a.m. reading.

Good grief.

And today up to Omena Bay for a 45th Anniversary dinner, ½ the tab on the house.
We belong to the diners’ club of the establishment.

But we arrived too late to do a wine tasting in the adjoining tasting rooms.

But the meal was superb – walleye and trout; a beautiful bay to eat beside; cocktails; a superb and attractive wait staff; and many memories.

We have lots of nice things on our minds right now, but a new item has inserted itself in the last few days.

Detroit, of course, is largely a lost cause. But it is a study in lots of what is wrong with our nation today.
I know that sounds hopelessly, nonsensically, unfeelingly, cruelly in the clouds, but it is nonetheless true.

And that pathetic city’s newspaper noted a few days ago that the Detroit Symphony Orchestra may become a thing of the past in that woebegone city.

And that wreck of a metropolis boasts no less than four professional ball teams –– activities that children play.
Grownup people pay tens of millions of dollars a year to watch grownup people play with balls and pucks.

But they cannot support an adult classical art form.

But boy, are the people of SE Michigan in the 21st Century superior to those benighted folks of the 19th and 20th who supported the arts.

Now, make no mistake.

This is not an essay which claims that taxes should be levied to pay for the arts.

Rather it is a condemnation of the dumbing down of the American people which has taken place since the 1950’s.

And the dummies are so dumb that they have no idea how dumb they really are.

Sorry about this negative note.

But so be it.

IT USED TO BE SO EASY – THANKS FOR THE RALLY, MR. BECK

I know, it is late and the day has been busy, but it has been a good day and although at times frustrating, it still was/is a good day.

And a few thoughts occur.
They usually do.

Last night we watched the cable coverage of the upcoming Beck rally at the Lincoln Memorial.
The libs were, of course, negative as all Hades, predicting the fostering of hate and bigotry and so on.
What right did such a person as Glen Beck have to do anything, to say anything, on such a hallowed day as the anniversary of the MLK speech?

And all this before the rally had happened.

And then the rally happened. And it was not hateful. It was intense. It was big. It was impressive. It was not hateful. It did not engender divisiveness.

It was a good thing.

And all this put us in mind of fifty years ago or so when we watched such talking heads as Cronkite and David Brinkley and Chet Huntley and a number of others which I cannot recall at this advanced hour and age.

And for the life of me, I do not remember any major ‘anchors’ who were as disreputable, biased, ludicrous, as we see today on cnn and msnbc.

Now I know there are decent folks at the above two cable stations. But there sure are some horrendous liars.

And they maintain their positions because the viewing public likes them. Or perhaps ignorantly believes them. But no, a significant part of the viewing public likes them.

That is even more depressing than the fact that they exist.
They have an audience.

God save us from our fellow citizens.

And now, decision making has become so flaming difficult.
Again, it used to be so easy.

If a bank robber, in the course of robbing a bank, blew apart the spine of a wounded bank guard who was lying helpless at his feet, the choice of a verdict of life or death would be easy.

Whether or not to build a mosque on the site of Ground Zero would be a no brainer.

The idea of a super bug being spread around the world by people seeking non life-saving cures, but rather elective cosmetic surgery would be unthinkable.

Human resource departments not being allowed to screen exconvicts from hiring short lists would be unthinkable.

A President of the United States would never allow his nation to be branded a civil rights violator.

Foreigners visiting the United States would not assert that Americans should not worry about anything because their country is so beautiful – and be praised by a newsperson as being so very wise.

And then today, at lunch, we were treated by one cable network to a film on folks who mutilated themselves for personal fulfillment – graphic films of such – unwatchable, grisley, sick, disgusting – prime time.

And then the ads for sexual performance enhancement – prime time.

Gertrude Himmelfarbe said it: “When the abnormal becomes normal, the normal becomes abnormal.”

We at The Study are very happy with the Glen Beck rally at the Lincoln Memorial.

We need it.

SALMON PATTIES

A year or two ago The Study acquired a copy of the Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book, 75th Anniversary Edition.

It is desirable to this fella not only because is it packed with neat recipes, but it is also a cogent history of a people – of a lot of the tastes and mores of a people, the American people to be exact.

I had intended to write about the similarities and differences of this edition with that of the one which Dear Wife and I acquired as newlyweds a thousand years ago – but no matter.

At any rate, a Dear Friend recently asked me to share a recipe – one for salmon patties for which, in my small circle, I have become somewhat the talk of the town. Albeit a small town.

And so, below is the recipe for the salmon patty as contained in the Cook Book – with suggestions for the rest of the meal suggested by us.

The book really is a historian’s paradise.

The recipe:
1 egg
¼ cup milk
¼ cup chopped green onions (2)
1 tb snipped fresh dill or 1 tsp dried dill
¼ tsp black pepper
1 14 3/4 oz can salmon, drained, flaked, and skin and bone removed
¼ cup dried bread crumbs
Olive oil to lube non-stick pan

Beat the milk and egg together and then mix all together in a bowl. I use the two-handed squish method.
I then form the mix into four dandy patties and fry two at a time in the pan.

They are best when lightly crisped, not burned on both sides.
Cookery is helped when cook allows herself or himself a moderate quantity of adult beverage.
Hummus, pita bread, roasted almonds, and hot crackers are a delightful compliment to preparing the entrée.

We usually accompany the patties with tossed salad; mashed sweet/white potatoes; and a medley of summer squash, zucchini, mushrooms, and tomatoes sautéed in olive oil.

Enjoy.

And the after dinner can be heaven in itself.

DELIGHTFUL COINCIDENCE

We are ‘downstate’ and it is late and it has been a delightfully busy day.
Indeed, it has been a delightfully busy week and a half.

And it seems that ‘postability’ [I know, probably not a word] has returned to The Downstate Study.

And so we take up keyboard to renew the line of communication with self and with whomever [sp?] happens across these pages.

An ususual coincidence occurred in our family eight years ago that is worth mentioning.

Eight years ago on August 22nd our second Dear Granddaughter was born. And it just so happens that August 22 is also the anniversary of the birth of Dear Wife, the Dear Gramma of that Dear Granddaughter.
And, it also happens that that date is the anniversary of the marriage of Dear Son and Dear Daughter-in-law, the parents of that Little Person.

At the parents’ wedding, all the folks at the reception sang happy birthday to the Mother of the Groom.
How about that?
Now Gramma is well organized, but this is really out of the ordinary.

A LAKE AT THE END OF THE TRAIL

We walked with the Dear Granddaughters in a Conservancy Forest today, one of those that has been purchased by a group intending to keep it as it has been, evolving naturally with minimum input from the ‘non-natural’.

We perhaps have written of it before.

One trail takes ca. 45 minutes to climb, winding its way up the dune to decking overlooking Lake Michigan.

Thoughts occurred whilst climbing:

A ‘conserved forest’ has a lot to say about the reality of life as we know it.

Looking in any direction will exhibit the eternal cycle: the birth of the young plants; their maturity; and their ultimate decline and fall.

Such a reminder of ‘the last things’, and the first things for that matter. Not to mention the in-between.

And then the symbolism of the beautiful Lake at the end of the trail.

“Send our mail to the end of the trail.”
Now where did that come from.

Birth, growth, maturity, decline, and death, and then the Beautiful Lake.

There has to be meaning in all of that.

The symbolism of the Lake just now hit me.

We may have mentioned that a Victorian town we visit when going to Sophie’s doctor has situated the high school right next to the town cemetery, a cemetery at least 150 years old.

Many of the kids have to walk thru the greenwood to get to classes.

Another old friend has just passed away at our Church.
It has been a tough year.

It has been a real year.

We believe that there is a beautiful Lake at the end of the trail.

A MOVIE AND ST. THOMAS AQUINAS

A movie was made in our Northern Community two years ago.
A real honest to goodness movie.

There were semi-tractor trailers and immense power generators and food caterers and dozens of extras and folks who shouted cut and action and print that and stuff like that.

And there was security at night. Not much – but enough to make it interesting.

And there were handsome and gorgeous people. I talked to a few.
Even offered to take in a most attractive actress’s little dog on an especially hot day.

Well, I had to think of something to say.

She said not to worry; they had air-conditioned facilities for them just off the set.

And hair salons.

And they filmed for about six weeks. Cannot remember exactly.

And this year the film came out on DVD.

It was terrible – nothing to even think about.

And tonight, whilst walking Sophie Matilda up where the vans and tractors and salons and cooking tents were located, it occurred to me that millions of dollars and hundreds of people and weeks and months and months of planning went into making this hour-and-a-half of nothing.

And then I thought of St. Thomas Aquinas.

Now, I am not suggesting that St. Thomas is not worth thinking about.
Quite the contrary.

But there is a connection of sorts.

A Dear and Respected Friend suggested to me that near or on his deathbed, St. Thomas referred to his Summa, that Work of Works, as significantly less important than any of my professors in University had ever done.

I am guessing that Thomas knew he was on the brink of the Really Important, that his work was done, that he was now ready for the Real Thing.

And it got me to thinking, as least it did whilst walking Her Honor, that we sometimes put so much effort, so much time and sweat and the like, into things which in final analysis, at the end of our time hereabouts, really are not worth worrying about.

Thomas worked on stuff that really mattered.
So does the airplane jumper.

The parachutist can worry and fret about whether his ‘chute is properly arranged when there are hours or days to go until the jump, and rightly so.

But, as with Thomas, there is little need to worry when going out the door.

The movie folks worked so hard for so little.

To paraphrase a Great Statesman’s commentary during World War 2, “It is common for so many to owe so little to so many” these days.

Our MSM and our advertisers and our politicians and our experts and the like go on and on about so many things - so many things which are often of so little importance.
St. Thomas was so brilliant and had and indeed has so much to say to so many of us today – and yet so few of us even know who he was/is.

But even he recognized that there will come a time when enough is enough, when it is time to reap what has been sewn and not to worry about it.

There is a song – “You have to know when to hold ‘em; know when to throw ‘em; Know when to walk away; Know when to run.”
Or words to that/those effect(s).

Ecclesiastes is full of such wisdom. I will not bore with attempted quotes.

As indicated elsewhere in these pages, C.S. Lewis has rightly observed that many of us are simply not equipped to deal with many of the issues which so often divide us from our brothers and sisters, matters which are amenable only to those familiar with “…the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

And if we don’t know what we are talking about, why should we spend much time doing it.

Blowin’ in the wind.

Sorry about more attempted song lyrics.

You’re right, I’m not really sorry.

And those who stir the pot in which we labor know our relative ignorance.

Wouldn’t it be a grande thing to know the difference between the real and the junk before we are at the end of time, as it were?

How neat it would be to know what we know, to be confident in it, and to have a healthy respect for all the stuff we do not know much about.

It was St. Francis who uttered the prayer, I think, "Lord, help me to know the things I can change and those things which I cannot change, and to know the difference."
Or words to those effects.

As the song says, “What a wonderful world that would be.”

AUGUST IN THE NORTH

August has arrived, the Sunday of the summer.
86+ degrees, 96% humidity.
Hotter tomorrow.
But no rain.

We will water the garden and remember how it used to be cool in the North.
Well, we tell ourselves that it was anyway.

This is not the way it used to be we will say.

And we read that the Lakes, the Great Ones, that is, are warming, prematurely.

What to think.

Cycles? Climate change?

Or no one knows.

You pays your money and you takes your chance.

We have been North the last two days. Voted absentee in the primary.
Dear Wife sees to it that we do some of our duties.

She does all of her duties.

Today a quiet day, art class for Granddaughters in the morning, swimming in the early afternoon.

And then salmon dinner with good friends in the evening.

And speaking of a salmon dinner…please visit a journal item of a favorite site:

http://breathless-expectation.blogspot.com/2008/07/fresh-salmon-smores.html

Fellowship; food; a beautiful and bountiful river; good friends/family; and the Good Lord.

Again, as a Dear Friend used to say, “How sweet it is.”

Granddaughters are with us for a few days.

Yesterday was the trip North.

Today was art class, swimming, games, and their second night of the visit.

So much is happening Downstate and in the world.
So much to know about – to think about – to write about.

And so much to do.

God give us the strength and desire and ability.

It is so easy to lose oneself in The North.