Alright, I'm going to stick to my state in an attempt to not offend anyone.
I've been following the protests in the upper Midwest and the Plains for about a week. I'm not in horribly deep, but I can see the battle lines even if I haven't done all the research. As a lib-Dem I have allegiance to one side. With that in the open, let's take a look at Virginia voting in the last two elections.
In 2008, with the Presidential election on tap, the voter turnout in my state was about 77%, or nearly 3.7 million Virginia voters. In the 2010 elections, sans Obama, the voter turnout was 45%, or about 2.3 million voters. (In our 2009 election cycle, which included the gubernatorial race, under 2 million Virginians showed.)
Here's the deal. If we don't vote, or vote in a manner that is reactionary to events that can take years, not months, to solve, then this is what we get. Boatloads of state houses, and even more state legislatures, controlled by Republicans. Unfortunately, we made our own bed.
The lack of interest in non-Presidential elections, where our local governments - and our daily lives - are up for grabs, we tend to tune out. And suddenly, it's too late.
The drop in the percentage of young voters, Democratic voters who were too afraid to stand-up, and moderates who once cared, but suddenly didn't in 2010, put us squarely where we are right now.
What's being done in Wisconsin, Ohio, Indiana, etc. can be undone. But, it won't be undone until people pay attention to their own backyards.
Sounds harsh. Probably is.
That old saying, "if you don't vote you can't complain", which you hoped had grown up and moved away, just settled back into your basement.
Being that I’m President of The Hilltop – full authority resides with the Chairman of the Board, whom I won’t name – it’s time for my Presidents’ Day message.
Friday night took me to DAR Constitution Hall to take in the Avett Brothers show. As expected, it was an amazing show that highlighted everything great about the band. The brothers (Seth and Scott) opened by going with a bit of a bluegrass set-up: a single, high pick-up mic (?), one guitar, and two voices. That single, quiet, duet (Murder in the City) was a bold choice for a houseful of fans riled up for the opening of and expected high-energy show…it couldn’t have been a better choice. First, it highlighted the perfect harmonies that DNA allows and they’ve mastered. Second, it showcases Scott’s unbelievably strong voice (“Did you swallow an amplifier?” – NPR) as he moves far away from the mic and controls his sound perfectly through not only distance, but also via direction of projection. After the simmered us all down, the rest-ish of the band (cello and bass) hit the stage as they started to rip through nearly two hours of impeccable showmanship (they also have a drummer, Smiley, who shows up for about half the songs). Scott plays guitar, banjo, harmonica, keyboards, and a standup bass drum/cymbal while singing lead on most songs and harmony on others. Seth plays guitar and keyboards while singing lead and harmonies. The constant movement throughout the show, the clear pleasure of playing for all of us, and the talent on display is stunning. What you get with these guys is a feeling like you get at few shows: warmth and vision of what they believe comes from music. Much like Cloud Cult, what they push through the amplifiers is some serum that can make all the ills of your day disappear, if only for the time you have together. As I’ve said many times, I’m not impressed by bands that feel they need to push for two hours or more – very few have the strength of catalog that can hold my interest for that long. The Avetts hit at about 1:55, including a three-song encore, that actually left me wanting more, and that’s a rare thing. I don’t know what the future holds for the band; will they become so big that they outgrow smaller venues? (DAR holds right at 3,700 in a quaint hall). What I tend to believe about bands that I love, especially when new CDs arrive or shows are attended, is that they must surely explode to worldwide fame and tens of thousands will pack the big arenas. What usually happens is that they peak at about the 9:30 Club-level (capacity:1,200) and never grow to stadium-rock levels. I suspect the Avetts are playing at the max level of venue size right now – even with the Grammys turn last week, their music and style doesn’t lead to huge, huge shows (not including big festival stages).
X has wrapped up her studies and hit the road this afternoon for her Bar Exam – we get her back on Wednesday evening. I have little doubt she’ll due just fine and we’ll know for sure in April.
G. had two strange questions yesterday. The first came when he called me from a friend’s house and asked, “Has anything happened at home?” Strange. “What do you mean?”, I said. “Nothing, I just wanted to know if anything has happened at home.” Weird-o. What? Did he set some trap that would spring upon me at my return? Did you know something about aliens landing? He followed that up last nigh with this, at about 9pm, “Todd, do I have school tomorrow?” Well, it’s Presidents’ Day and even I have the day off, L. has the day off, your Mom has he day off. No, you don’t have school. “Are you sure?” Fine. I went on-line and checked with the District, and sure enough, they have school as a make-up for their fourth (pathetic) snow day. From this point forward, they have to make up every other snow day. Don’t ask me how that works; that’s just the way it is. I half expected a question today about whether or not he has two feet.
Speaking of snow days, it looks like we have some inches (and I'm talking pathetic D.C. inches) coming this evening. I sense a school delay. I hope I don't have to feed them....
We are sitting on the Hilltop's front porch - it's 75 degrees out and I've dragged X from her study cave to get fresh air while studying - and I say to her, "You know, I don't think I'll ever be cool again." She chortled and snuffed.
This is funny, primarily because it’s completely true. Denial isn’t just a…nevermind
I’m off to see the Avett Brothers in D.C. tonight. I’ve misfired on their shows a few times so this feels a bit like a Cloud Cult situation.
I’ve set my waypoints for the weekend and they primarily involve feeding and watering X while she finishes her studies. About 100 hours and she’ll be done with it all.
I have surprisingly little to banter about. It’s been that kind of winter.
X is still studying for the Bar but is within about 10 days of having the entire mess behind her. She’ll be testing next Tuesday and Wednesday down yonder.
We all headed to the Farrah Olivia portion of Kora for dinner on Saturday night and were pretty disappointed, at least The Eleven was. If I held up his restaurant at the old location as a 100, I gave this iteration an 85; X gave it an 80 as were driving home. Her stance was solid since one of her four courses was completely off. Pure math on that one. Of course, there’s no way this idea of hosting nights in a largish room inside his brother’s restaurant was going to work well from the get-go. From just a logistical point of view, I don’t know how they separate the kitchen for work even though I tried to peek and catch a glimpse of what was happening in there. Second, Kora isn’t a good restaurant by any stretch of the imagination so weaving something fabulous within it presents all sorts of issues. I’ll give you a few examples. The bathrooms aren’t very nice. Seems petty but when you’re dropping $100 per person then there are some expectations. The bread, though good, was served in the crappy Kora metal baskets with big placemat-sized crinkly paper with maps of Italy on them. The dishware, though it appears to be the same set from Farrah Olivia, wasn’t presented with nearly the detail (or the staff didn’t know how to serve) as the old place. Lots of finger prints on the edges and overall they just weren’t up to shiny snuff. The wait staff was questionable, at best. I know it’s probably impossible to get his old crew back but our section of tables (four) had one waiter and he struggled to keep up….severely. And finally, I held my bitter, pointy tongue to this point…I gotta hit the hostess. I know how catty this sounds, but they are sharing the hostess between the two ‘restaurants’ and her Saturday night apparel was shocking. I need to really sort out the right vocab here – cover your ears or eyes if you are easily offended: she had on some sort of cat-like print skirt that pretty much enabled me to date, to the day, the last time she had a Brazilian. I didn’t need mirrors on my shoes or pretend to drop some change in order to catch a look. Considering that she spent every other step yanking down on the skirt as she walked might explain something. What I found completely strange about the entire ‘skirt’ situation was that as we were leaving, and the hostess station was vacated, she had changed from her ‘skirt’ into a pair of jeans…on a Saturday night. At the hold place, I believe his wife acted as manager/owner/hostess and it was a pleasant, high-end experience; this was more Lady GaGa. Or S*&*chy Spice (that might have been offside) Overall, the food was familiar as Morou’s but it was off a by some margin. C. said he didn’t see him in the kitchen when he peeked so we have no confirmation of his presence. The more I think about the night the lower my score goes – it’s probably more of a 75 by now. Hopefully, there will be a new place soon because there are two serious strikes in the books: the first being the claim that he was ‘cooking’ at Kora and now this misfire in his ‘relaunch’. All of us have Cedar easily jumping to the top of our favorite list.
L. and I saw a fantastic show, The Cripple of Inishmaan, at the Kennedy Center on Saturday afternoon. I’d bought through the half-price booth in D.C. and we ended up in the front row, stage right, which is generally too close for my taste, such a snob. But, upon further review a bit of slumping down made it easier and I had about seven feet of legroom which easily overrides our proximity issue. Every stinking one of the cast members was memorable, exceptional, and dreamy. Perfectly delivered lines with impeccable timing and character-ly enclosed. I’d say it’s probably the best show I’ve seen outside of Streetcar and Lost in Yonkers. Quite pleasing.
** If you’re a North Parker, stop reading.
We had pizza last night that was solid but not quite perfect. The problem was that I was wearing a skirt that was way too short – oh, never mind, that’s another story. The problem was that I tried to build up from my initial idea of Gorgonzola dolce and didn’t quite make it to the summit. I came up with spinach, leeks, garlic, sun-dried tomatoes, Kalamata olives, and a parmesan/gouda white sauce the roast pine nuts. The taste of the cheese didn’t really come through but not because of the other ingredients – the whole thing just feel steps short from my goal. The only other time I started with the Gorgonzola I was able to move on to fresh figs and then have the entire thing come just right. Right. I’m blabbing.
I’ll leave.
t
** There are no guests at Pizza Night until after the Bar Exam. Time restraints and whatnot.
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
The only things I really believe about people – here, now, and gone – is this: you leave behind your best and then hope it was good enough. I also believe that what you do in your life is reflected upon you every single day. Craig Minowa put forth the idea we put energy out into the World, good or bad, and that energy never dissipates. It’s there, always. I don’t know what to call my dreams.
A very good man is dying from pancreatic cancer this week. We worked together for nearly 20 years in the Air Force and he was, by far, one of the most interesting, positive, and loved of the hundreds I encountered. Amongst my career’s worth of comrades, the outpouring of hope and memories has been emotionally draining. We probably all imagined that he’d be around forever – showing up to work in our various cities and getting together for dinner. No one imagined that short of a 44th birthday he’d be gone. He fought so hard but it was a battle he couldn’t overcome.
Okay, this is mostly a crazy, old man entry. X has heard this position on multiple occasions but I doubt that I’ve graced your screens with my inanity. (I was going to say insanity but chose to dropped a letter.)
I hold a few interwoven ideas on handicapped-accessible doors; you know, the ones that are equipped with push panels that open lobby doors or sets of doors. My first weave, and it isn’t due to any mechanical skills or knowledge on my part, is that all the wires, buttons, and circuits have a limited life. Maybe there are 10,000 pushes in it before it malfunctions. I know, it’s not important, really. My second strand is wondering about how lazy we are – those of us that aren’t handicapped – that we feel the need to use the push plate in the first place. Opening a door is too much work? Just this morning there was someone entering the building about 20 paces in front of me (not handicapped, I know him or her) who hit the plate to open the outer door, waited for it to open, walked through, and hit the plate for the inner door…which didn’t work. He actually walked back from the door, hit it again, and again, before realizing that he’d have to use his hands to enter the dojo. I found it comical and disconcerting. Reminds me of this…forward to the 3:00 mark and enjoy a three or four minutes.
Monday, February 07, 2011
Time is flying by.
We’ve begun the ‘bar review and flashcard’ process on The Hilltop. I’m once again in the midst of learning about life estates and fee simple stuff. Of course, I’m in it purely for the enjoyment factor – I think X is more serious.
L. and I headed into D.C. on Saturday morning for the orchid exhibit at the Museum of Natural History. The crowds were sparse, as we hoped, so we were able to take in the four small rooms with little interference. It is amazing was a cold, February morning will do for comfort levels in the Smithsonian. We hit a bookstore later and then lunch before she headed off her own way (to the National Building Museum and the Freer Gallery) while I headed into Black Watch at the Sidney Harman Hall (my birthday gift from X). Black Watch is a play on tour by the National Theatre of Scotland and takes place during a deployment of the Black Watch to Iraq. There’s obviously a bit more history in play throughout the show but the heart of it is the path that leads Scottish boys/men to the Black Watch and the deep connection they have to their fellow members; an impressive show. And, the Harman Hall is a spectacular place for a production.
We managed pizza night last night and most stayed for about the first half of the Super Bowl. I ended up watching most of the game since X was off to Dulles later in the evening to fetch G., who arrived about 8:30pm from his week in England.
After we all wander through this week we’ll have another big go on Saturday as L. and I see a show as Kennedy Center in the afternoon and then the North Park/Hilltop crowd return to the return of Farrah Olivia for dinner. High hopes.
