The Horns of a Mantra

The right wing sits on the horns of a dilemma when addressing the issue of government regulation of and intervention in the corporate sector.  After arguing vociferously and repeatedly that the federal government had no business intervening in the financial products industry when it was imploding, they now have to argue as loudly and as often that the same bodies didn't intervene enough to prevent a catastrophe in another powerful industry:  oil, of course.  The logic they used to spin the former is diametrically opposed to the logic they have to use to spin the BP fiasco negatively.

The discrepancy raises multiple questions.  "Do you support regulation of corporate giants or not?"  "Should some industries be regulated and others not?  If so, why?"  "Are some corporations and/or industries more equal than others?"  "How do you reconcile ignoring the probable collapse of the entire financial system and supporting tying the government's hands to intervene with a position that accuses the government of not intervening enough in a similarly large and powerful industry?"  "Furthermore, what does any of this do to close the hole in the ocean?"

Governments, by their nature, can be either constructive or destructive.  They can tear down, or they can build up.  They can make an affordable college education available to anyone who’s qualified, or they can relegate advanced education, by default, to the more privileged students who can afford the exorbitant tuition, fees and books that now prevail.  They can provide every citizen with quality health care available somewhere other than an emergency room.   They can also provide emergency services, like police officers, fire fighters and EMT’s on the scene quickly because of the 911 system.

Government is not evil by definition.  It can be over-reaching or oblivious.  Defining the border between the two is a no-man’s-land like the DMZ in Korea.  Government either provides the structure that allows a people to flourish while protecting them, or it ignores the people all together. 

Those are the choices at the end of most days:  protect and maybe over-reach or ignore.

The critics of the administration basically say that it did not over-reach far enough.  My response is that they can’t have it both ways.  Trying to do so is fundamentally hypocritical and dishonest on every level.  I would not be surprised if the most vocal critics of the administration’s response took the most money from the oil companies they’re supposed to regulate but didn’t because “regulation is bad”.

I think that mantra is dead, laying on the floor of the Gulf of Mexico next to a geyser of oil that doesn’t want to stop.

The Cynical Optimist Revealed

I took Mama to the office today to meet my boss and some other people.  I had intended it to be a 15-30 minute visit, but that turned into over an hour.  Many of my co-workers are closer to Mama’s age than mine, so they can find something to talk about, even if it’s reminiscing about old TV shows and arguing about who played Gidget:  Sally Field or Sandra Dee.  (When we got home, I looked it up, and it was Sandra Dee.)

But they greeted her warmly, as I knew they would.  And they bragged on me so uniformly that I’m guessing she could see how much they respect me.  More than one of them said “he keeps us in line.”  Mama asked one of them, “Well, who keeps him in line?”  “Nobody,” she replied. 

And more than one told her that she had done a good job raising me.  Coming from people very near her age with children as old or older than me, I’m sure those statements had more gravitas than if they had come from younger people.

But I’m pretty sure that she already knew that.  Having that backed up by other people was nice, regardless.

I told one executive that I had living proof that I actually had a mother.  My persona is a cynical man who could as easily have been spawned from Satan as given birth to by a human being.  Nothing could be farther from the truth, in reality. 

I’m a happy, realistic and optimistic man who hides behind a persona totally contrary to that cynical facade. 

The people I work with know that, if they know me at all. 

And the ones that do loved meeting Mama.  We were there for so long that the window on getting to the LBJ Library closed.  We’d have only have had an hour and a half or so before they closed.  But she was enjoying herself, so I was happy. 

It wasn’t the day I had planned, but it turned out pretty good.

A Non-Long Day

Our outing with Mama got derailed today when Shannon fell on the sidewalk on the way into the Long Center.  We were supposed to have a tour, and they would provide a wheelchair for him.  He fell last week after I had gone to bed and laid on the floor for two hours picking cat hair up before he was able to get to his feet. 

He picked the cat hair up because he was bored, but he didn’t try to wake me.  I told him that next time, he should throw a shoe at the door or just yell. 

He hadn’t been out of the house for a week until today, and he looked a little ashy getting out of the car.  We made it across the street, and I told him to wait.  I’d bring the car around and drop him off at the front door.  No sooner did I turn around to go get it than Mama started shouting.  I turned around, and he was on the ground. 

His head had hit the concrete, and his arm was bleeding.  He couldn’t sit up immediately, much less stand.  Mama said she’d tried to catch him, but couldn’t.  Understandably, since he out-weighs her and is almost a foot taller.

We got him on to a low retaining wall after a few minutes, then I went in search of a restroom.  I knew that he would need to sit for longer than I could go without peeing.  Mama sat with him while I walked over to the Hyatt and pretended to be meeting someone in the bar. 

When I got back, I got the car, circled around and pulled it off the street and up over the curb onto the grass next to the sidewalk so he would only have to go a few feet.  Between me and Mama, we managed to get him into the car and on the way back home.

We missed the tour, needless to say. 

Tomorrow, when we go to the LBJ Library, I can probably go in, get a wheelchair and take it to the car to fetch him in.  That’s what I’m hoping, at least. 

We’ll see. 

In the mean time, I’ve bandaged him up and tried to pre-treat the blood stains on both of our clothes so they don’t set in the fabric. 

More than that, I don’t know what I can do.

Wait Time

Mama’s here finally.  We’ve changed plans several times since I first proposed the trip, including dates and travel methods.  First she was going to come down over Mothers’ Day, but that got changed.  Then she was going to drive down with my nephews the week before Memorial Day, but that got changed as well.

I picked her up at the airport this evening and swapped 2 dozen yellow roses for her baggage.  Little old ladies should carry flowers, not luggage. 

I got there a little early (I never know what traffic will be like), and her flight was delayed a few minutes.  Those minutes morphed into what seemed like eternity waiting to see her get on the escalator down to the baggage claim level, where we had arranged to meet.  Meanwhile, I stood in the middle of people coming and going or waiting on bags, looking anxious I’m sure.  With 2 dozen roses wrapped in purple tissue paper.

Waiting isn’t something I do well, and after plane after plane expelled passengers downstairs, I was more antsy than the last time I had to sit for jury selection.  But I finally saw her get on the escalator, and all my panic stopped.  I could breathe again.  (I also didn’t have to sit on the jury, by the way.)

She’s tucked away in the guest room/hideaway-for-me.  I have a tv, computer and horribly uncomfortable rattan sofa in there.  She’s sleeping on an air mattress.  She said she could probably sleep on the sofa, but I told her she probably didn’t want to.  Doing so is the quickest way to a back ache that I know.

Tomorrow, I introduce her to kolaches (a Czech breakfast staple in this part of the world).  And my favorite seafood restaurant (Eaves Brothers on Airport—the best, freshest seafood you can get in Austin).  And my favorite building in town (the Long Center, which used to be a dated, ugly and unused venue before it was turned into one of the best performance centers in the country).

I want to show her all the things I love about Austin, but I can’t do that in a few days.  So we’ll hit the high spots.  If we get bored, we can go to Mt. Bonnell or take a walk around Lady Bird Lake.  Then there’s the Susanna Dickinson house, but I’m not sure we can fit that in. 

I also want to leave time for doing nothing and just talking. 

Now that she’s here and safely tucked away, I can breathe freely and quit worrying that something will screw things up. 

It’s the first time she’s met Shannon, also.  She’s talked to him on the phone, but that’s about it.  As I’ve said before, he doesn’t travel well. 

We have several great days in store.  And since my employer forces me to take vacation time, I can’t think of a better way to spend it.