Several days ago the
health care bill passed.
I am glad that it did.
It is certainly not a perfect
bill and there are aspects of
it, especially such shenanigans
as the ``Cornhusker
Kickback,’’ that rankle. But
anyone familiar with any
political process, be it village
or national politics, knows
that in order to get anything
done deals are made,
compromises are forged,
and lofty aspirations often
fall prey to more modest,
politically achievable results.
One of these days I hope we
do find the moral fortitude
as a nation to care enough
about one another to create
a system of universal health
care for all.
There is a strange and
troubling irony about our
national penchant for starting
wars in far away places
knowing full well that thousands
on both sides will die.
And that those who happen
to survive such inexcusable
barbarism will suffer in
innumerable ways for the
rest of their lives. What is
it that makes it so easy for
us to go to war, even begin
them under false pretenses,
and suggest that those of us
who oppose such idiocies
are somehow less patriotic
because we see no earthly,
or spiritual, justification for
such self-destructive escapades
in the first place. There
is just something downright
puzzling about the way in
which we set national priorities.
Frankly, I do not care a
whit which political party
anyone belongs to. I wish we
could do away with them.
Madison warned us about
factionalism a long time
ago and his fears have come
home to roost. People are
so dug into their factional
foxholes these days that civil
discussion is nigh impossible.
I need not review the
ugliness that certain partisans
have exhibited publicly
the past several weeks.
It is not surprising, really,
since anyone whose head
is not buried in the sand
knows that ugliness, most
often nurtured by fear and
ignorance, is alive and well
throughout this land. Unfortunately,
we share this pathology
with the rest of the
world. I wish I was optimistic
about its eradication. The
extent to which we live
in fear of terrorist attacks is a
testament to the heightened
levels of insanity that hatred
has evolved to.
The operative credo is
simple: to get your way, or
at least make your point, kill
as many innocent people
as you like. Then have the
audacity to attribute your
actions to your personal
deity.
The same mentality
seems to pervade politics. If
you do not agree with someone,
then do the honorable
thing: vilify him. If you do
not believe that government
should involve itself in health
care, then call those that do
communists, socialists or,
even worse, Hitlerites. If you
believe that government
does have a role, then castigating
all those who disagree
as cold-hearted, uncaring,
and greedy seems to suffice.
Even though I hold some
relatively liberal views, I also
think of myself as equally
conservative with respect to
certain issues. I guess what
matters is how you define
your terms. It used to be that
our legislators would debate
by day, often disagreeing
vehemently, but come
nightfall they would dine
together and often go on
family weekend trips together.
We have lost some
fine people from both sides
of the aisle because politics
has become more personal
than ever. Mean-spirited divisiveness
has replaced civil
dissent, a necessary cornerstone
of any democracy.
The abortion debate
brings out the worst in us.
If you believe that a woman
has the right to make her
own reproductive decisions,
including the termination of
a pregnancy, then you are
characterized as a ``baby
killer.’’ If, on the other hand,
you characterize yourself
as being ``pro-life,’’ a rather
ambiguous phrase at best,
the tendency is to claim the
moral high ground as yours
alone. The implication, then,
is that those who see things
differently are spiritually
bankrupt. Of course, any
rift rooted in theological
conflict is ideologically
irresolvable. And the beat
goes on.
My antidote to all this is
to take a very long walk.
Columns
Hawthorn Hill: Reflections
- Columns
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From Fly Creek: For help with the smug
I’ve been having much fun lately, friends, writing a short book called “Saints for Special Needs,” completely fictional characters whomight get us thinking about humanity—and ourselves, in particular. Here’s a sample. Let me know your reaction. (Oh, and I have a fine cartoonist to illustrate the book!) [Almost every culture has a place for “the wise fool,” the vacant sort of person who, in fact, has a witty and trenchant view of humanity, and may even see into its future.]
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In These Otsego Hills: Still more from 1986
Early August found us asking the question, “Does anyone know when Edgewater was builtand by whom?” The answer, much of which came from Ralph Birdsall’s history of the village, appeared in the Aug. 13 column as follows:
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In These Otsego Hills: Continuing on from 1986 ...
We continue this week by answering the question we asked if anyone remembers the old Cooperstown National Bank? On May 13, we wrote: “Martha Dickison, Delaware Street, called to tell us about the Cooperstown National Bank where she worked at her first ‘real job’ after her graduation from school.
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Up On Hawthorn Hill: Spring inventions
The second line of Lawrence Durrell’s novel “Justine” reads as follows: “In the midst of winter you can feel the inventions of Spring.” I first read all four novels of his magnificent Alexandria Quartet during the year I traveled from Saigon to Paris after working in Vietnam for a refugee organization for several years.
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From Fly Creek: Revving up for spring
Time to bring you up to date on Fly Creek’s happy clambering into Spring. First, the eatery scene. “Is Jerry’s open yet?” The answer is, “Oh, yes!” The porches are freshly stained; the lawns a uniform green, and the hop vines are already climbing the posts on the covered side deck. Blue and I went up there to lunch earlier this week, and I celebrated spring with my traditional bacon, onion and Swiss cheese hamburger. We two sat on the deck, enjoying the broad view and some spectacular clouds marching across, up toward Schuyler Lake.
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In These Otsego Hills: More from 1986 ...
This week we continue with the discussion of telephone service from the pre-dial days. On March 12 we noted that: “No one has yet produced a telephone directory from pre-dial days, but Doug Preston of New Hartford recalls that some business (which one?) in the village had the phone number 7.”
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Home Notes: Celebrations abound at the Thanksgiving Home
April was a month of celebrations and much to appreciate. We had a 90th birthday celebration for Wanda Noyes on April 4 including her family and friends. Personal care staff Dee Bouck worked with residents to hand paint Easter eggs for the tree in the activity room.
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In These Otsego Hills: 1986 continues ...
This week we continue our journey through the columns of 1986 with the answer to the question “for whom, according to tradition, was Hannah’s Hill named?”
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Book Notes: Baseball book features local contributors
Baseball is part of the nation’s fabric. Most kids have a memory of the game either from playing Little League, attending a major league contest or meeting a favorite player. In Cooperstown that feeling is magnified since we are the official home of baseball. We get to see firsthand what has made the sport the national pastime.
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From Fly Creek: Ya really wanna know?
SETTING: Fly Creek General Store. CAST: Assorted seated geezers, drinking coffee. [Door opens, enter heavy-set geezer; walking slowly with wide stance, maybe prostatitis.]
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In These Otsego Hills: Returning to 1986 ...
For the past several years now we have undertaken sharing some of the area’s oral history we have collected over the years that we have written this column. Therefore, this year, we would like to go back to 1986 to share that rather unusual year. Those who were here then no doubt remember that it was that year that the village celebrated the bicentennial of its founding.
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From Fly Creek: For reasons unknowable
[Jim’s reached back to 2002 to share one of his favorite columns.] My father was born as the last century began into a river village in tidewater Maryland. He told me once of a man there in his boyhood who, like so many, made a thin living tonging for oysters in the cold months and, in the hot and humid ones, crabbing and raising vegetables.
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In These Otsego Hills: CCS balancing act ... side two
Last week we shared a number of activities in which students at CCS can participate. We thought it was an impressive, if not overwhelming, list. And we are indeed pleased that the young people of our area have these opportunities. However, we think it is also important to keep in mind that these undertakings do have a cost associated with them. They are not free. In fact there are, no doubt, those who would say they do not come cheap.
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From Fly Creek: A graceful crowd
Make of this what you will, friends. I feel I’m really meant to share it with you. Despite good medication for my Parkinsonism, every four or five weeks I can sensethe symptoms building up on me, giving me more than ordinary trouble. Lately it’s been falls, and last week brought a typical one. I’d gone out to get the paper, moving along with penguin steps on the snowcoved ice patches, and usingmy spike-tipped cane the waya climber uses an ice axe. But circumstances overcame me. Parkinson’s wipes out the possibility of multi-tasking.
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In These Otsego Hills: This and that and the other side ...
We note that the CCS Class of 2012 is presenting its senior class play, “Snow White” by Tim Kelly, this week with performances 7:30 p.m Thursday and Friday, March 29 and 30, and at 11 a.m. and 7:30 p.m. Saturday, March 31. All performances will be at the Nicolas J. Sterling Auditorium at the Middle/High School.
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In These Otsego Hills: That green thing ...
Of late we have noticed that our email inbox has been much busier than usual. In fact, we find ourselves hard pressed to keep up with all the various messages we receive. As a result we suspect we have not answered some in as timely a fashion as might be thought appropriate.
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From Fly Creek: What you need to know
In their last Sunday’s bulletins, all 84 churches of Otsego County were to have carried announcements of an important meeting; most of them did. But because the announcement is so important, and not just to the churched, here it is again.
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Book Notes: Living the magic of ‘Hoosier’
A lot of people consider “Hoosiers” the best sports film of all time. The 1986 classic follows the exploits of a fictional small town Indiana high school basketball team in 1952 as it attempts to achieve the impossible dream of a state championship. The story is inspired by the true life achievement of the 1954 Milan team, who with an enrollment of only 161 students shocked big city power Muncie Central on a last second shot to win the state title. It’s the kind of sports story that represents something that is hard to grasp unless you live in a small town.
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In These Otsego Hills: The most perfect village... home to heavy industry?
We suspect we would get a whole lot more accomplished if we spent less time thinking, pondering and musing about things. In fact, there is a good possibility we might actually have completed our goal of cleaning the basement if we only focused on the task at hand, instead of trying to figure out the world around us. It almost makes us wonder if it is possible to think too much about things. We certainly hope not because should that be the case, we are in deep trouble.
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Up On Hawthorn Hill: The past in the present
Clichés abound about the value of photographs. Most are probably true at least to a certain extent. What I do know about an image is that it represents something of the past that is not the pastitself. But that is the power of any image. It represents something that once was. The beauty of an image, revisited, is that it functions as a catalystfor reliving in the present a past experience. My own view, one that I thank the Spanish writer Jorge Luis Borges for, is that all we ever can experience is the present.
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From Fly Creek: For help with the smug
