time for a beer

A couple of weeks ago, the police were called to a residence in Cambridge, Massachusetts to investigate a possible break in. They showed up to find a black man, cane in hand, in his home. The man in question was Professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr.

A Sergeant Crowley of the Cambridge Police Department showed up to investigate the possible break in. Sgt Crowley is a respected policeman who was chosen to teach racial profiling.

What should have been a just checking out, thank you sir call, turned out to be a something else. It turned out to be a racially charged power play of two people with attitudes unable to come to some sort of understanding of one person doing his job, and the other feeling the clutches of the slavery chains from years ago.

It was neither. What this really was about was two guys with power. The professor acted like the jerk he clearly was and the police officer wasn’t going to let the guy get away with it, at least not on his watch. If he was an umpire, he’s the guy who throws out the manager because he’s in charge.

They both put the President in an embarrassing position, which he was all-too-ready to take. They put the professor’s friends in an awkward position of changing his name to “Skip” instead of Professor Gates to make him look more human, more accessible. They put the Cambridge Police Department, and all police departments on trial across the country because Crowley just couldn’t look the other way.

And now, Thursday, the professor, the cop, and the President are going to get together for a beer. Maybe, next time, Crowley will show up at the Gates’ residence with a beer. Yeah, sure.

$1,106,125.00

Imagine my surprise when I got an audit notice from the IRS that I owed over $700,000 in back taxes and penalties. So, I called the agent on the notice and try to find out why I owed all this money. It had to be some sort of mistake. This was 2004.

It wasn’t, according to the agent. You see, I earned $1,106,125.00 from a barter company called Intagio. At least, that is what the 1099-B form said. But, I said, I didn’t earn this much and I wanted proof.

Eight years ago, I traded some furniture through Intagio for some services. The total amount was a little over $70,000.

So, about six weeks later, I got this pile of paper in the mail from the IRS with all kinds of transactions sent by a rogue computer at Intagio. They weren’t right and I contacted Intagio to get this corrected, and they did shortly thereafter. This was 2005.

It took me nearly two years and several visits to a local IRS office to convince them my position was correct. I went through levies and threats and all the stuff the IRS does. Finally, I sat down with one person who got it all settled, or so I thought. This was 2007.

About two months ago, I got a notice that I owed $28,000 for back taxes and penalties related to a 2001 return. Again, I went through the process of finding what this was all about.

I just received a packet in the mail. And there it is, $1,106,125.00 on a line on the form in the income column.

Here we go again. This is 2009.

this just drives me crazy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

One of the things I look forward to when I come to California is an IN-N-OUT burger.  I had mine this afternoon, Double-Double with onions, pickles and ketchup. 

If you’ve been to IN-N-OUT, you know your meal is made to order, fresh.  There is usually a line at the cash register and food usually takes about 10 minutes, maybe more.

This is the part that drives me crazy.  Since the place is so busy, tables are hard to come by.  So, some people like to think they can beat the system by having one person order the meal, while the rest scout out a table and squat.  Looking around, you’ll notice many tables are being attended by squatters, not eaters, while people with food are forced to figure out other methods. 

If people would just order their meal, wait for it, and then look for a table, there would be plenty of room.  But, we being the selfish people we are, can’t wait.  Sometimes I wonder if we really are intelligent life.

she was really tall

When I was thinking about Apollo and Walter Cronkite, I also thought about Mrs. McGinn.  She was my second grade teacher.  And then, I checked my local paper and found she died over the weekend.

Some people were meant to teach.  She was one of them.  She encouraged us.  She loved us.  She laughed.  She was bigger than the school.  She was Mrs. McGinn.

She was really tall and she liked the Packers, sort of a power forward who liked sports.  What wasn’t to like?

One project she did every year was hatching chickens in her class.  We’d start with a couple of eggs in a incubator.  Each day we’d come in and check progress wondering when those things would crack open.  Eggs don’t change much when they’re hatching.  And, when the chickens hatched we all went home and asked our parents if we could have a chicken.

Around my high school graduation, I received a letter in the mail.  It was a letter to myself written in the second grade.  I’d completely forgotten I did this.  Mrs. McGinn didn’t.  She remembered me, and every other second grader that went through her class for 30 years.

Growing up, there are people who have a real impact on your life.  Mrs. McGinn was that for me.  Sleep well Mrs. McGinn.

“the Eagle has landed”

Forty years ago I remember exactly where I was when this picture was taken. I was in the family room of my home with my dad sitting in his rocking chair next to me.

I don’t remember this picture in color. I remember it in black and white. That’s the kind of TV we had.

I was 11. For years we’d been watching the Gemini, then Apollo space craft blasting off during classes during school. It was always kind of cool when they’d let you watch TV during school hours.

John Glenn and Wally Schirra were big time heroes, bigger than Mickey Mantle or Bob Gibson. This was dangerous stuff they were doing. People died.

A remarkable feat is even more remarkable knowing now that these guys were flying machines that had less technology than today’s microwave oven. They saddled themselves to rockets like some kind of science fiction cowboys and shot themselves into the sky. But this wasn't science fiction. People died.

Landing on the moon didn’t necessarily give us any more information than we already had. Actually it was kind of a waste of time. It wasn’t about science as much as it was about achieving a goal once thought impossible. It was about fulfilling a promise made eight years earlier.

Before this photo, the moon was a sort of nightlight in the sky. After, it became a place where the earth looked small, an achievement, and a source of wonder. And, isn’t that what it’s supposed to be?

and that’s the way it is……

I always thought if God had a voice, it was Walter Cronkite.  That voice was silenced forever on Friday.

Any words I write would be too shallow, too hollow, too insignificant to underscore the importance of this man who I trusted throughout my youth.

Beginning from the time of my earliest memory, his voice resonated with news of the assassination of JFK to Vietnam to Apollo to Martin Luther King to Woodstock to Watergate to Iran.  He even introduced us and Ed Sullivan to the Beatles.  More recently, he was the voice of experience, of reason.

There were times he wept on the air, and we wept with him.  He was the truth.  He brought perspective.  He was our conscience.

His voice was everywhere.  On Satuday mornings, he was teaching me history on “You Are There” and “The Twentieth Century”. 

I think about my kids when  I think of someone as substantial as Walter Cronkite.  How do I tell them the importance of this man, the man who narrated the “Spaceship Earth” ride at Disney World? 

There is no parallel in society- nobody- not Oprah, not Obama, not Billy Graham.

And now he’s gone.

politically incorrect

If you know me, you know I take no prisoners when it comes to teasing.  And, when I have new material to work with, it can be fun.  So, prior to reading this, understand, I AM TEASING. 

Serjio is a guy who is a partner in a furniture company in Mexico City.  As Latin people go, he is the stereotypical “Latin Lover”.  He likes the ladies.  If you watch his eyes, they focus and dart with the strides of senoritas.  Let’s just say his focus is unfocused.  

So, when he picked me up at the airport yesterday, we were doing the small talk thing when I noticed the eye movement.  He asked me how I liked Mexico.  I told him I liked Mexico fine, but I didn’t like Mexicans.  What?

He looked at me wondering if he heard me correctly.  I stood there like I said nothing, and then cracked a smile.  Then, he laughed. 

Latin men, especially men like Serjio, are very proud, very masculine, and very aware of their masculinity.  These guys are lions. 

Later, at dinner, he asked me if I liked fondue?  I told him it was OK.  And in a very matter-of-fact way, I also told him the gays in the United States liked it, too.  You talk about an uncomfortable few seconds.  And then I smiled.  Laughter.

I figured if it worked for Kathy Griffin, it could work for me.