Yes, I’m back from vacation. I know. You didn’t even realize I was gone.

Well, it wasn’t really a vacation. It was 9 days at Fall Creek Falls State Park with about 70 of my wife’s relatives. No it wasn’t as bad as it sounds.

Actually there is a little good came about while I was there. Perhaps I should relate that before preaching on the topic of the day. Each family is assigned a meal to cook. They either produce their specialty or whatever is easiest to prepare for that size of a mob. Hot dogs and hamburgers are de rigueur for the 4^th. Diet food, it ain’t.

That’s the problem. I overcame seven books on economics in the past couple of months. Why? Research on my next book.

I needed a break. So, I did some Internet searching for ideas on nutrition and downloaded to my Kindle 3 books that seemed to make sense. Okay. So it’s my form of recreation.

Actually, as age and weight have crept up I have been tested for diabetes, metabolic rate, tumors, everything. It’s nice to know I don’t have any of those problems but there were no definitive answers. Nothing seems to work.

The good news? Having just begun reading 2-3 days before the trip, I was far from having mastered the subject. Again, their wasn’t any diet food in sight. Considering those conditions, I am shocked that I lost over 7 pounds. I was not reducing calories. None of it was the fluid loss that causes many diets to look good the first week or so. The theory is that it’s what you eat, not how much and that your body will find its own ideal weight. I hope so.

I didn’t starve. I didn’t explore the great outdoors. My arthritic joints and ever-present cane have trouble navigating a round trip to the rear of a Walmart. But now, back to the topic of the day.

Dancing On The Ceiling

What is going to happen with regard to the debt ceiling? What will happen if it isn’t raised? The truth is that no one knows.

But, how do I answer the question? I am neither a prophet nor a fortune teller. They are different. Prophets don’t predict the future. Most everyone misunderstands. A prophet passes on messages from God to the people. Most fortune tellers are gypsies.

Neither Oral Roberts, nor Bob Jones, nor Jerry Falwell’s Liberty Bible College is on my résumé. I am not a gypsy. I’m just going to rely on my unfamous (infamous?) ability to see through political BS.

First, they will not recognize the unconstitutional nature of the debt ceiling law. Politicians prefer complex and obscure machinations. They offer opportunities to hide from and/or misrepresent to their constituents what they are really up to. They are not fans of Occam’s Razor.

The debt ceiling will be raised. The Republican leadership in the Congress publicly assured Wall Street that it would. The Democrats’ action was never in doubt. Both are owned by the casinos and have heard  their master’s voice.

There possibly is a horsefly, or the rear of a centaur, in the ointment. Eric Cantor has put Speaker Boehner under siege in his quest to satisfy his ego, his desire for John’s job. To do this, he has decided to sell his soul to the Tea Party. Why is it so common for a centaur to be looking to the rear?

By some counts, Eric can muster more votes from their caucus on this issue than can John. Eric hopes that will translate to votes for John’s office. That explains Mitch, over in the Senate, showing the white flag with his Rube Goldberg proposal.

Dissension among the Republicans in the House has given Obama a chance for victory. I have trouble crediting the White House with mature, nuanced strategizing but they have made a helpful move or two; even if by accident.

This hullabaloo about the debt ceiling is mere political posturing. It has been brought in to the game solely for political reasons. The last Bush raised the ceiling 7 times. St. Ronny did it 17 times – yes, 17. There should be a clear-cut severing of the problem and the play.

Obama should say that the question of the debt ceiling will stand on its own. Vote it up or down. Let the people decide who is jeopardizing the world economy.

Since I see it as almost a given that the ceiling will be raised, what remains in question is the timing. The financial world may be foolhardy gamlbers with other people’s money but they are cowards when their own neck in on the block. They are getting skittish.

One final point. The Treasury has actually borrowed more money from the Social Security and Medicare trust funds than from China or anyone else. That money may have been borrowed by Congress but it isn’t theirs.

If creditors are to get paid while others stand by, Social Security and Medicare should be at the head of the line. They are just getting back their own money. That is not the same as the oil, agricultural, drug and other industries holding out their hands for subsidies.

The President has been speaking about the possibility of Social Security checks not going out on time. That is pure political theater. It is scare tactics. No group shows up at the polls in higher percentages than do seniors. No one wants to alienate them. Enjoy the show but live in reality.

Just remember the problem. Our economy is sick because there is insufficient blood (money) flowing through the system. Sending money to China and not letting seniors put it back into our economy would be the height of stupidity.

.

.

Bookmark It

Hide Sites

For an old guy, my travels have been keeping the Arab world financially solvent this past month or so.

After enjoying 36 degrees in June up in the tundra around Mackinac Island I spent 9 days at Tennessee’s Fall Creek Falls State Park for my wife’s family reunion. This past weekend was devoted to my high school reunion in Chattanooga, the ‘Land Where the Sun Shines Bright and the Moonshine’s Delicious.’

You may not consider it of too great a consequence but, despite all of the great cooks in my wife’s family, I gained but one pound over that span of time. That qualifies as a miracle.

I did discover that a brother-in-law is a regular reader of this blog. His interest may be more a matter of keeping tabs on me, as he adroitly avoided making any comment that I could use to promote my little publication. He also avoided any comment that might cause familial strains. He may have missed his true calling, as a diplomat. (Smile, Richard)

Missing my necessary time at the YMCA, I ventured out to the pool one day. Two of my grandchildren were already in the pool. I was greeted by the three-year old with the observation, “Grandpa, your belly is full.” He is no longer in the will.

The class reunion was less of an affront to my self-image. Class reunions are always surprising. After all these years there have been a few changes. I felt somewhat the stranger among all of those old people. Perhaps, the next time I will treat everyone to a case or two of Grecian Formula.

There were several people there who made me regret that we had failed to keep in touch. Having spent so much time traveling throughout the world, this is only the third reunion I have been able to make in more than half a century.

Although our class was large, over 400 members, it was close-knit. It was also surprisingly accomplished. I probably should not have been all that surprised.

Arnold sat down at the piano and played a few selections. They ranged from honky-tonk to real rock, that from the fifties. He did a more than fair take on old Jerry Lee Lewis. I had forgotten that he had played trumpet in the school’s Swing Band, as well as a little rock band. With his shiny pate he doesn’t really look the part of a rocker but he has much more talent than those three chords and a guitar guys that assault our ears daily.

On the other side of the coin, we had lost Bill Byrd a couple of years back. He was terrific on the clarinet and sax. He spent his life living the dream of a lot of us. He played mostly with the Stan Kenton Orchestra but also several other big bands.

I, on the other hand, having given up on my own musical pursuits, can only claim to live a block or so from the grave of Johnny Cash. That’s not a lot to brag about, particularly for someone whose musical tastes may be broad but not sufficiently inclusive to cover the genre of country music.

One classmate who shall remain nameless used to manage Greg Allman. Traveling in those circles, he assured me that he had seen Little Richard recently, and that he was almost alive. Paul (oops) is more than competitive with Little Richard in flamboyance.

Given my own need to keep up the pace, I shouldn’t have been surprised that so many of my fellow classmates just keep on keeping on. One, after retiring from NASA, had begun another career as a college professor, retired from that and informed us that he had just signed on for at least another year.

There isn’t any recourse for those who left us far too soon but the reunion could have been a much richer experience if more members of the class had shown up. There was a lot more to do than compare our maladies and surgeries, although there was that too.

There is no way to fully relay all that one benefits from reunions, whether of family or classmates. I would encourage everyone to take advantage of every opportunity to do so, however. Perhaps it is a matter of one’s appreciation growing with age. That certainly could be argued in my case but I regret all of those reunions I have missed over the years. I think you should regret that too.

Bookmark It

Hide Sites

The astronauts had their Tranquility Base on the Moon’s Mare Tranquillitatis. They wouldn’t share so I had to find one for myself. It is Buzzard’s Roost in Tennessee’s Fall Creek Falls State Park. And no, it wasn’t named for me.

Once again it’s time to veg out and gain some more weight. How else will I justify a new wardrobe?

I’m off in the morning for the annual nine days at the park. At more than 25,000 acres it is easily the state’s largest. It sits up on the Cumberland Plateau. That’s usually good for 5-8 degrees of relief from the Summer’s heat. I think that, being at a higher elevation, it is slightly further from Hades.

I know it sounds as though I will be enjoying a quite, peaceful, bucolic week staring at sunsets and shooing away hordes of Whitetail deer. If you were wondering, I have no intention of getting up in time to see any sunrises. I’m trying to take a temporary break from my alarm clock, which is otherwise set at 4:50 a.m. every morning.

All of that nonsense about peace and quiet doesn’t account for the fact that this is the annual reunion of my mother-in-law’s family. It rarely attracts more than 75 people. For the week I will respond to anyone calling out for Mr. Sheila.

But, what really disrupts the quietude is the July Fourth Parade. This is a tradition in the park of long standing. The parade is led by an antique fire engine. This may account for the direction in which the festivities have developed over the years. A world-class water fight.

I’m certain that at some point someone was the victim of a small toy water pistol. Waiting a year for revenge it would be natural if the original perpetrator experienced an escalated level of return fire.

The park has an inn, cabins and campsites, for both tents and more expensive quarters. As the parade, composed of those from the inn, cabins and those there for just the day, weaves its way through all of the camping sites, it becomes a non-lethal approximation of World War III.

The campers have the advantage of hoses hooked up to a scattering of faucets. The parade has a number of pickup trucks. In the beds of some of these vehicles are 55-gallon drums fitted with high-powered pumps and sprayers. Even the conscientious objectors need their own super soaker. I have no idea where these come from but they have begun showing up every year, without fail.

I fully intend to write one or two posts while there. Lassitude or revenge may be the motivating factor. Events will decide.

Bookmark It

Hide Sites