We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
"And all it took was one generation of neglect, just one, and poof, the reserve of bourgeois values necessary to maintain Western Civilizational disappeared. And I'm not sure it's possible to ever get it back."
Even I am finding it difficult to keep up a solid routine. Maybe making excuses, but I had a good daily routine which blew up and with all of life complications, it has not been good.
I do not like the new rules at my gyms. I will not deadlift with a mask on, and forget cardio with a mask. That is just unhealthy.
I'll be back to my trainer's home garage on Monday for my heavy weights, I hope. Legal or not, I do not care.
There are distinct and deep-rooted traditions of rational empiricism and religious sermonizing in American history. But these two modes seem to have become fused together in a new form of argumentation that is validated by elite institutions like the universities, The New York Times, Gracie Mansion, and especially on the new technology platforms where battles over the discourse are now waged. The new mode is argument by commandment: It borrows the form to game the discourse of rational argumentation in order to issue moral commandments. No official doctrine yet exists for this syncretic belief system but its features have been on display in all of the major debates over political morality of the past decade. Marrying the technical nomenclature of rational proof to the soaring eschatology of the sermon, it releases adherents from the normal bounds of reason. The arguer-commander is animated by a vision of secular hell—unremitting racial oppression that never improves despite myths about progress; society as a ceaseless subjection to rape and sexual assault; Trump himself, arriving to inaugurate a Luciferean reign of torture. Those in possession of this vision do not offer the possibility of redemption or transcendence, they come to deliver justice. In possession of justice, the arguer-commander is free at any moment to throw off the cloak of reason and proclaim you a bigot—racist, sexist, transphobe—who must be fired from your job and socially shunned.
12 bedrooms, 5 baths. And a two-story giant barn which needs work. In fact, it all needs work. No report on plumbing and heating. Roof looks ok for now.
Huge lawn for croquet, lawn tennis, badminten, frisbee, dogs, etc. Gee, as a bonus you get a Resident Beach Pass. It's in town - no waterfront. Own a piece of history, with plenty of room for all of your best friends.
What is it in the human heart that wants to possess wonderful, charming things? I mean, rather than just appreciating them. Is it a transmuted sexual thing?
I have posted often about grass lawns in the past.
Meadows are far better than lawns, but pretty lawns are a suburban real estate necessity. They are completely artificial. They rely on irrigation, fertilizer, weed and bug chemicals. etc. Like hydroponic gardening.
I happen to feel that lawns are perfect parts of English-style gardens. Lawn is one part of an appealing garden.
How can one minimize the artifice and fragility of the unnatural thing which is a mowed lawn (especially in the northern half of the US)?
- Irrigation. It fools the grasses into thinking it's Spring.
- Topdressing. It's what woodland grasses get naturally from fallen leaves and detritus.
- Aeration. It's what grasses get naturally from worms, moles, and digging animals.
What the hell is going on in this country? When did we, the majority, stop speaking up for ourselves? Crimes against common sense seem to happen every week, yet most of us stay silent.
It's been decades since we spent time on the Cape in June, mainly because our annual family weeks are in August. This was a Father's Day gift.
June is better. Too early for swimming, but perfect for the outdoor fun that August is too warm for. No skeeters. Also, few vacationers. The birding is better in August, with all of the travellers heading down from the north. Still, Eagles and Ospreys and nesting herons. Nothing special except the Terrapins digging their eggs and the fox trying to find their nests for breakfast eggs.
We opted for a marsh-side cottage on Lieutenant Island, a quiet corner which is only accessible during lower tides.
I hope all our readers who are fathers enjoy this day with their families.
My father and mother divorced when I was 8, though he'd already left the house when I was 6. For a good portion of my life, my memories of him were of weekend visitations, driving around with 4 kids in Triumph TR5, (2 in the front, 2 in the 'back', which wasn't really a seat). There was a period of several years when he lived in Micronesia with his wife and my half-sister, so our direct contact was minimal. By the time I was 14, I was usually taking a bus to see him for weekends, once a month or so, or for a week in the summer. Eventually I spent three full summers with him while I worked at the Jersey Shore. I was in college, and it was a good place to spend my summer months.
Divorce is difficult on everyone involved. I remember spending time being angry at my father for leaving. I give my mother a lot of credit for knowing that it's important for children to have a father in their lives, encouraging and enabling us to take time to see him. Even scolding us when we spoke ill of him. Eventually, as I got older and more educated, my relationship with my father became much closer. I am lucky to still have him around, and I will be seeing him later today for the first time in 4 months (thanks to this lockdown).
In a way, I may have been lucky, as my mother remarried, and I wound up having a step-father (though he was not officially a step-father as I still had my father). A tough WWII vet, a good man who did his able best to raise 6 children, 4 of which were not his own. He passed 15 years ago. I was able to have conversations about the war, the Depression (which he grew up during) and learned about real estate (his profession). He was a do-it-yourself man, unfortunately not very skilled, but taught me how to do plumbing, auto, and minor electrical work. There were things he passed on to me that my father never could have.
Being a father has no template. We are certainly not perfect. Hopefully, our mistakes are good learning experiences, for both us and our children.
Today will be a good day to share some of the better stories, both good and bad, with our fathers or our children. Of course, we can do that any day, but it's nice to have a day to really focus. Enjoy your day with your family.
10:24 "A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master;
10:25 it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household!
10:26 "So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known.
10:27 What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops.
10:28 Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.
10:29 Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.
10:30 And even the hairs of your head are all counted.
10:31 So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.
10:32 "Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven;
10:33 but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.
10:34 "Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.
10:35 For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law;
10:36 and one's foes will be members of one's own household.
10:37 Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me;
10:38 and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.
10:39 Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.
Octopus is good food, grilled, sauteed, in a cold salad, whatever. We probably learned in high school bio that they are molluscs, same as squid. Cephalopod molluscs.
Compared to shelled molluscs, these creatures are advanced and have multiple brains. As far as eating goes, with squid we gut them and eat the rest, but with polpo we cook just the feet. I have never heard of eating an octopus head and guts as we happily do with clams and oysters (which have no heads, really. No eyes - but scallops have sort-of eyes...).
We had a lovely June visit to Wellfleet. Cool weather, blue skies, perfect for hiking and biking. The only downside is that not many places are open yet, including the beach sticker place. We worked around it. Lots of restaurants closed forever, some open with outdoor seating.
Why Maskachusetts? You can imagine. Masks in cars, masks walking the dog, masks walking the beaches, masks on runners and bikers. Crazy.
Well, we decided to do a stretch of the Cape Cod Rail Trail (CCRT). Rent a bike and off you go. It is wonderful, riding through marshes salt and fresh, antique villages where you can stop for coffee, woodlands. It's the old railbed for the train from Boston to Provincetown but as of now the relatively flat route is only Wellfleet down to Dennis.
Anyway, at one road intersection I pulled to a stop behind a distinguished professor-looking guy who scolded me "Too close, too close." I said "Sorry, I did not expect you to stop." He raised his voice: "It's not a fucking joke."
By then, Mrs. BD was on the other side of the crossing with that guy's wife, who put her arm over her face and yelled at her "Corona, Corona!" Yelled like a crazy lady.
Mind you, Mrs. BD and I are fairly polite and refined people, but Mrs. BD had had it and responded to the lady "Finally, I have met a real Karen." We went off ahead of them to their relief.
NYC Marathon
wns are a suburban real estate necessity. They are completely artificial. They rely on irrigation, fertilizer, weed and bug chemicals. etc. Like hydroponic gardening.
Thanks, Roger, for filling in our morning links once again.