I don't get a sticker this year, but I don't have to stand in line either. I received my ballot a day or so ago and I took time to read up on the issues. I talked through the issues with Jen and voted via mail-in ballot this evening.
It feels good.
This is my first time using the mail-in ballot, and I don't think I will do it any other way again. It's really the way to go.
We are lucky in this nation that we have the right to vote and I encourage everyone to do his or her duty by being an informed voter.
Now I'm free to drive people to the polls, volunteer for the last-minute push and become a zombie as the returns come in on November 4. Our moment is now.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
Random thoughts
... Jacob has begun saying "John McCain hurt eye." When he was 1, he tried to look into a shampoo bottle and got it in his eye. He cried and said "Shampoo acky, hurt eye." To communicate danger, we sometimes say things like "no cord, hurt eye." On his own, probably because we talk politics around here a lot, he has started saying "John McCain, hurt eye." He pays attention, I guess.
... Yet more Wall Street problems. What's the difference between a totally free market and trickle-down economics? Nothing. They are both fabrications of the mind with no basis in the real world. What a scam. Think about this for a minute. Rich people convinced us that if we make them even more wealthy, they would actually give some of that back! Hilarious! Yet all those golden parachutes keep opening like clockwork. (I just got an image of Bill Gates re-paving my street).
... I went canvassing this weekend. Knocked on 60+ doors. No luck on most of the first half, but I actually think we made a small impact on the second half. This is how elections are won... with boots on the ground.
... My mom's birthday was today and we took her out to dinner. She will get her knees replaced in one week. Keep her in your thoughts. It'll be a long road back to health for her, but she really needs this done.
... Gotta love sports. The Broncos are a fun team to watch on offense. I have proper expectations based on their crappy defense, so I get to enjoy the fireworks with no need to fret over long playoff runs. Time to enjoy gaudy statistics! CU still looks a year away and Virginia is rebuilding, so my focus is on the NFL this time around.
... On the schadenfreude side of sports, Nebraska got beat 52-17 at home, which always makes me smile. If that wasn't enough, the Cubs lost 3-games-to-none in the first round of the playoffs when expectations were just crazy considering history. All of my friends and I take a sick joy in pain felt by each other in sports. I don't think anything tops the heartbreak the Northsiders inflict on their fans, though. It never gets old.
... I'm currently reading "Bearing the Cross," and it's a great book. I think I'm going to finish my 24-book challenge with "Angels and Demons," "The Da Vinci Code" and "Stranger in a Strange land." Next year Book and I will start out with "Southern Storm" about General Sherman's decimation of much of the South. Book and I have a morbid fascination of "drunk uncle Billy" (If you see a picture of him, you'll know why we call him that) and his rampage through Georgia.
... I keep getting calls at my office from homeowners who are desperate to avoid foreclosure and it's heartbreaking. They are all upside-down on their homes and facing financial ruin. I really feel for them. Although there is little I can actually do for them most of the time, I always try to point them toward some (hopefully) helpful options. Times are tough and people are absolutely feeling it. My phone is a testament to that.
... Yet more Wall Street problems. What's the difference between a totally free market and trickle-down economics? Nothing. They are both fabrications of the mind with no basis in the real world. What a scam. Think about this for a minute. Rich people convinced us that if we make them even more wealthy, they would actually give some of that back! Hilarious! Yet all those golden parachutes keep opening like clockwork. (I just got an image of Bill Gates re-paving my street).
... I went canvassing this weekend. Knocked on 60+ doors. No luck on most of the first half, but I actually think we made a small impact on the second half. This is how elections are won... with boots on the ground.
... My mom's birthday was today and we took her out to dinner. She will get her knees replaced in one week. Keep her in your thoughts. It'll be a long road back to health for her, but she really needs this done.
... Gotta love sports. The Broncos are a fun team to watch on offense. I have proper expectations based on their crappy defense, so I get to enjoy the fireworks with no need to fret over long playoff runs. Time to enjoy gaudy statistics! CU still looks a year away and Virginia is rebuilding, so my focus is on the NFL this time around.
... On the schadenfreude side of sports, Nebraska got beat 52-17 at home, which always makes me smile. If that wasn't enough, the Cubs lost 3-games-to-none in the first round of the playoffs when expectations were just crazy considering history. All of my friends and I take a sick joy in pain felt by each other in sports. I don't think anything tops the heartbreak the Northsiders inflict on their fans, though. It never gets old.
... I'm currently reading "Bearing the Cross," and it's a great book. I think I'm going to finish my 24-book challenge with "Angels and Demons," "The Da Vinci Code" and "Stranger in a Strange land." Next year Book and I will start out with "Southern Storm" about General Sherman's decimation of much of the South. Book and I have a morbid fascination of "drunk uncle Billy" (If you see a picture of him, you'll know why we call him that) and his rampage through Georgia.
... I keep getting calls at my office from homeowners who are desperate to avoid foreclosure and it's heartbreaking. They are all upside-down on their homes and facing financial ruin. I really feel for them. Although there is little I can actually do for them most of the time, I always try to point them toward some (hopefully) helpful options. Times are tough and people are absolutely feeling it. My phone is a testament to that.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Love of my life
Jen is my best friend in the world. She's a great mom and a wonderful wife. I am very proud of her, which is probably pretty evident. She works hard and has earned everything she has achieved.
Any description I could give of my feelings for her have probably been covered through music, poetry and literature before. Obviously, all of those descriptions of affection apply and I love her deeply. Instead, I would rather describe her enormous strength to give a glimpse of what she looks like through my eyes.
Jen is a rock. She embodies the phrase "calm, cool and collected" in the face of any obstacle because of her strength of character. Her pillars are made of honesty, industriousness and commitment to family. And she displays those traits continuously.
I appreciate that Jen will level with me and I know she will only say what is true. But, her honesty also comes through clearly when she drops a point of view as circumstances change. She is the opposite of an ideologue and takes genuine account of logic and reality. In short, she is intellectually honest and thoughtful.
I appreciate that Jen will level with me and I know she will only say what is true. But, her honesty also comes through clearly when she drops a point of view as circumstances change. She is the opposite of an ideologue and takes genuine account of logic and reality. In short, she is intellectually honest and thoughtful.
I will never forget her absolute refusal to cut corners while working at KFC, and her calculation of work hours down to the minute. The last thing she would ever do would be to cheat anyone out of even a minute of work time.
Such deeds earn trust, but her insistence on not wasting time makes her career climb her own masterpiece. Obviously, that trait is beneficial to a career, but Jen works just as hard at home as she does for work.
Jen plans for Jacob's future and directs her efforts at home toward his better development and growth. We are lucky that Jen has the ability to work from home where she can be with Jacob. And, Jacob is lucky that that his time is spent every day with someone who is dedicated to his interests and plans his upbringing in a way to maximize his opportunities.
I do not mean to limit her traits, which are many. She is also a dreamer, creative and kind. But, I seek to express the traits that only someone who sits in my seat could see.
She is my dream girl and always will be.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Front Lines
Well, I'm full into volunteer mode. I probably do not spend the time I should, or even the time I have verbally committed to, but I now make phone calls and canvass every week. I even got my first war wound (a bee sting... clearly sent by a McCain supporter).
The view from the front lines of a political campaign is difficult to interpret.
On one hand, I see a unique enthusiasm and the mechanisms of the political process churning from inside -- with people working together for a common purpose. On the other hand, dealing with a populace that pays attention on the shallowest of levels is an exercise in herding cats and hair-pulling.
Last week I experienced a very successful phone bank session that led to a few very enlightening conversations and (maybe) one voter convinced to leave the fence for the Obama yard. One can never be sure, of course, but this is a unique process and I have been thrust into some fascinating discussions.
On the other hand, I was also told by another person not to call back because "no son of a bitch who won't salute the flag or our troops should ever be president." After almost two years of campaigning, vetting like no human not running for president could ever experience, and constant scrutiny, some people just can't separate the fear from the truth.
As interesting as the experience has been, this whole political process has also been maddening. My fury over the indiscretions of the past 8 years is well known. My frustration is explaining to people who pay casual attention exactly why this is so important to me.
My sense of urgency has been patronized at times and I have had to bite my tongue more often than I'd like. Nothing bothers me more than the belittling of concerns based on fundamental matters.
But, the end result is what matters. Even though many people vote as they do for the wrong reasons ("he sounds Muslim" or "I just always vote [fill in party]"), the vote is what matters. Our job, on the front line, is to attempt to educate a sometimes-resistant and easily-distracted population that really doesn't have the time to scrutinize beyond sound-bytes or misleading commercials.
Like I said, it's a beautiful process, very rewarding, absolutely maddening... and very confusing. If that makes sense.
This campaign means everything to me because of fundamental beliefs I have about how our country should conduct itself. I fear that my view is simply not an accurate reflection of exactly who we are. What if we are torturers? What if we are fiscally reckless? What if we don't believe in that which was once inalienable? What if we really don't need evidence to use our power?
Before I entertain answers to those hypotheticals, I'm going to try to persuade my community. My job is to convey the importance during a conversation that usually lasts 30 seconds. No one said it would be easy.
But, never give up on hope without a fight.
The view from the front lines of a political campaign is difficult to interpret.
On one hand, I see a unique enthusiasm and the mechanisms of the political process churning from inside -- with people working together for a common purpose. On the other hand, dealing with a populace that pays attention on the shallowest of levels is an exercise in herding cats and hair-pulling.
Last week I experienced a very successful phone bank session that led to a few very enlightening conversations and (maybe) one voter convinced to leave the fence for the Obama yard. One can never be sure, of course, but this is a unique process and I have been thrust into some fascinating discussions.
On the other hand, I was also told by another person not to call back because "no son of a bitch who won't salute the flag or our troops should ever be president." After almost two years of campaigning, vetting like no human not running for president could ever experience, and constant scrutiny, some people just can't separate the fear from the truth.
As interesting as the experience has been, this whole political process has also been maddening. My fury over the indiscretions of the past 8 years is well known. My frustration is explaining to people who pay casual attention exactly why this is so important to me.
My sense of urgency has been patronized at times and I have had to bite my tongue more often than I'd like. Nothing bothers me more than the belittling of concerns based on fundamental matters.
But, the end result is what matters. Even though many people vote as they do for the wrong reasons ("he sounds Muslim" or "I just always vote [fill in party]"), the vote is what matters. Our job, on the front line, is to attempt to educate a sometimes-resistant and easily-distracted population that really doesn't have the time to scrutinize beyond sound-bytes or misleading commercials.
Like I said, it's a beautiful process, very rewarding, absolutely maddening... and very confusing. If that makes sense.
This campaign means everything to me because of fundamental beliefs I have about how our country should conduct itself. I fear that my view is simply not an accurate reflection of exactly who we are. What if we are torturers? What if we are fiscally reckless? What if we don't believe in that which was once inalienable? What if we really don't need evidence to use our power?
Before I entertain answers to those hypotheticals, I'm going to try to persuade my community. My job is to convey the importance during a conversation that usually lasts 30 seconds. No one said it would be easy.
But, never give up on hope without a fight.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Proud no matter what
Jacob just climbed on my back. That was fun. He's my little buddy.... now, where was I?
The last few weeks have been interesting. We tried to enroll Jacob in preschool. Poor little guy lasted only two-and-a-half days. He was just too overwhelmed. From all the fallout of the experiment, all the stress and all the tears (and there were many), I can say without question that I will always be proud of my boy.
I know that. I believe that will continue. The challenge? To make sure Jacob always knows that.
The experience did give reason for contemplation, though. It made me think back to my upbringing and how I somehow developed a capacity to categorize too many things as failure.
That got me thinking... why does such a thought even have to be suppressed? Shouldn't it never even creep into one's mind when applied to a child? Obviously, my toddler is not a failure for not being ready to start school at the age of 2. My concern is that at some point I may be tempted to apply that term too loosely... like dad seemed to.
A brief history: My dad's shoes will always have room in the toes. All of my abilities could never quite fill them. I've learned to accept that. I did well in school, he performed spectacularly (Boettcher scholar, member of AOA in medical school, and on and on).
Now, for the part that only three people in the world can really understand: Dad was very difficult to please when report cards were issued. So difficult to please (at least early on) that I was never quite sure it could be done.
I do not mention this to complain or play the victim. The point is, I woke up. So, his method was effective for me in that I took the challenge (sometimes in a vain effort to "show him") and traveled the path he advocated. It also taught me to steam over an A-minus when I was .002 away from my first college 4.0.
The question I am left to contemplate is complicated. Dad drove me to achieve, even if it was sometimes accompanied by some misery, hard feelings and stress. Mom made sure we were as loved as anyone could be. Does one work without the other? I say no.
Without mom's constant reminders that dad didn't mean to make us feel that inadequate (he often forgot to get to that part), I'm sure I would have probably lashed out.
After the lessons were taught, however, dad did a complete 180. To my shock, he didn't care one bit about my law school grades. You could have knocked me over with a deep breath when he told me not to sweat over a B-minus.
So, the point? I'm going to have to be careful. Left alone, I will bend toward being a hard-ass on grades. I will have to remember the time my academic tormentor shed his mask and told me to chill. Apparently, even hard-asses can be reformed.
Sometimes, even examples that produce results don't need to be followed by the letter.
The last few weeks have been interesting. We tried to enroll Jacob in preschool. Poor little guy lasted only two-and-a-half days. He was just too overwhelmed. From all the fallout of the experiment, all the stress and all the tears (and there were many), I can say without question that I will always be proud of my boy.
I know that. I believe that will continue. The challenge? To make sure Jacob always knows that.
The experience did give reason for contemplation, though. It made me think back to my upbringing and how I somehow developed a capacity to categorize too many things as failure.
That got me thinking... why does such a thought even have to be suppressed? Shouldn't it never even creep into one's mind when applied to a child? Obviously, my toddler is not a failure for not being ready to start school at the age of 2. My concern is that at some point I may be tempted to apply that term too loosely... like dad seemed to.
A brief history: My dad's shoes will always have room in the toes. All of my abilities could never quite fill them. I've learned to accept that. I did well in school, he performed spectacularly (Boettcher scholar, member of AOA in medical school, and on and on).
Now, for the part that only three people in the world can really understand: Dad was very difficult to please when report cards were issued. So difficult to please (at least early on) that I was never quite sure it could be done.
I do not mention this to complain or play the victim. The point is, I woke up. So, his method was effective for me in that I took the challenge (sometimes in a vain effort to "show him") and traveled the path he advocated. It also taught me to steam over an A-minus when I was .002 away from my first college 4.0.
The question I am left to contemplate is complicated. Dad drove me to achieve, even if it was sometimes accompanied by some misery, hard feelings and stress. Mom made sure we were as loved as anyone could be. Does one work without the other? I say no.
Without mom's constant reminders that dad didn't mean to make us feel that inadequate (he often forgot to get to that part), I'm sure I would have probably lashed out.
After the lessons were taught, however, dad did a complete 180. To my shock, he didn't care one bit about my law school grades. You could have knocked me over with a deep breath when he told me not to sweat over a B-minus.
So, the point? I'm going to have to be careful. Left alone, I will bend toward being a hard-ass on grades. I will have to remember the time my academic tormentor shed his mask and told me to chill. Apparently, even hard-asses can be reformed.
Sometimes, even examples that produce results don't need to be followed by the letter.
Friday, August 29, 2008
In her lifetime
I was there when history was made.
I was at Mile High Stadium 45 years to the day after Dr. King described his dream.
Sitting behind me was an elderly black woman from California and her family. Her and her husband both wore handicap stickers and labored to get to their seats in the fifth and very top level of Invesco Field at Mile High.
We talked about her love of the Golden State Warriors, a team she has followed for decades. Although she said she is from Oakland, she assured me, while sitting seven sections from a giant Bronco logo, that she never roots for the Raiders.
We also discussed the moment. She explained with a special joy how much it meant to her to see the first African American candidate for president formally accept that nomination. She didn't say it explicitly, but I interpreted in her excitement a wonderment that she could experience such a moment in her lifetime. The fact that her and her husband, both handicapped, chose to cram themselves in the fifth level of a football stadium hundreds of miles from home expressed that meaning.
She was in her seat nearly as early as I was (about 1:30 p.m.) and enjoyed the entire event. Her few times leaving her seat were labored and assisted by her granddaughter and a cane.
When Barack Obama spoke, her smile only grew. Every applause line inspired an enthusiastic "That's Right" from behind me. And, when Obama hit a special chord, she would raise her hand, fingers spread, close her eyes, shake her head and say "Mmmmm Hmmmmm."
My time at Invesco Field at Mile High was filled with live music performances by Stevie Wonder, Sheryl Crow and more. I heard speeches from a Nobel-peace-prize-winning former vice president (Al Gore), a father of the civil rights movement (John Lewis), Governors from around the nation (Virginia, New Mexico, Colorado and others), and Representatives and Senators from around this nation. I saw emotion unique to any event I have ever attended. I saw a fireworks display and pageantry that blew my mind. And, I saw a speech that many describe as the best acceptance speech ever given by a prevailing party candidate.
I was present at a proud and historic moment in our nation's history. But, for some reason, my most vivid memory is the jovial old lady who sat behind me and lit the stage with her joy.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Short Update
... Jacob starts preschool in a few weeks. We bought him some school clothes on Saturday because there are some restrictions on what he cannot wear to school (specifically anything superhero). Jen and I have been talking a lot about this step and we both think it will help him. The school is Montessori and the method seems designed to teach him how to learn on his own.
Still, we will miss him being home as much.
... Also on Saturday I picked up my ticket for Barack Obama's big speech at Invesco Field at Mile High. It seems my volunteering efforts paid off and I got two "all-star" tickets. Baggs will be joining me for what promises to be a memorable evening. We can't wait.
... I miss playing chess regularly and am considering getting back to regular play (i.e. once a week). I prefer playing with friends, but will probably end up playing online more often. I've had some bad experiences playing strangers online (mostly, I seem to run into folks with no manners).
... Just finished reading Friday Night Lights this weekend. Very good book. One of the reasons I left journalism, and sports journalism in particular, was the rabid nature of some fans. I always considered Texas a particularly "unique" place, so this book really only served to confirm that whatever case of over-zealous behaviour I may have seen would only be a bigger problem there. You know what they say about Texas... everything is bigger. Apparently, even obsessions are bigger in Texas.
... My fantasy football draft is coming up on Aug. 23. Get ready for some banter. It's on!
Still, we will miss him being home as much.
... Also on Saturday I picked up my ticket for Barack Obama's big speech at Invesco Field at Mile High. It seems my volunteering efforts paid off and I got two "all-star" tickets. Baggs will be joining me for what promises to be a memorable evening. We can't wait.
... I miss playing chess regularly and am considering getting back to regular play (i.e. once a week). I prefer playing with friends, but will probably end up playing online more often. I've had some bad experiences playing strangers online (mostly, I seem to run into folks with no manners).
... Just finished reading Friday Night Lights this weekend. Very good book. One of the reasons I left journalism, and sports journalism in particular, was the rabid nature of some fans. I always considered Texas a particularly "unique" place, so this book really only served to confirm that whatever case of over-zealous behaviour I may have seen would only be a bigger problem there. You know what they say about Texas... everything is bigger. Apparently, even obsessions are bigger in Texas.
... My fantasy football draft is coming up on Aug. 23. Get ready for some banter. It's on!
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