Yours truly is supposed to be in two places at the same time this weekend. Even TTG can’t pull that off. Two incredibly different circumstances but then again not so far apart. One is the wedding of a beautiful woman in New Jersey. The other is the memorial service for a very brave young man in Arizona. Their connection is ironic.

Chris was a wonderful husband and dad. Cut down at 38 not by a assassin’s bullet but an even more sinister thing called cancer. He was a strapping fun loving guy. He left behind a devoted wife and two small children. He grew up in Genesee on the outskirts of Denver in my kid’s milieu. We went to their wedding. This is not supposed to happen.

I had coffee with his dad in Vail a few weeks ago. Chris had decided to forego any further treatment. As we talked I could see the pain of reality on his sad face. He said,” In my mind I get it and in my heart I just can’t.” The tragedy of burying your child is beyond sad. I wish I could reach out some way and maybe I am doing it now. Hang in there, Budster.

The wedding will be a glorious one. The lovely Leigh,Leigh Barushka, famous Russiain ballerina as her dad used to call her is a tribute to another couple I have known for so long. She is the daughter of my friends John and Muffin. John was cut down by that same evil monster called cancer in his early forties some twenty odd years ago. .

Some of you know the story but I hope I don’t bore you. John and I were best friends. He was my doubles partner and drinking buddy. Trim, athletic and with a smile that was as wide as Texas. He was also very smart which is of course why I hung around with him. He just couldn’t get the equation of death to prove out. He fought so very hard like Chris. And then one day said that is enough.

John changed my life and he is why I write these missives. He was the subject of the very first one which after 175 of them seems like a long time ago. We spent most every day of the last nine months of his life together. I owed him that. It’s what best friends do. We laughed a lot and yes every so often cried too.

One day we were driving home from New York City. He couldn’t ride the subways after so much chemo and I was the Uber of the day. As we drove along I started saying,”Cancer, Cancer, Cancer.” He had seen me do strange things many times before but this was nuts. I told him it was part of our friendship and didn’t bother me. It was like a door had opened and a huge weight was now being shared by two crazy guys.

That afternoon we talked and talked and he told me the sadness and heartbreak that he had kept inside to shield his wife and three little girls. Our friendship just got so much better. As the time grew close one day he startled me. He said “I will never see my girls grow up…and you,my friend will never see your kids grow up again.” Nine months later I quit Wall Street and just spent time getting to know my wife and kids. Thank you so very much.

I changed in a lot of ways. Some tough. I was diagnosed with clinical depression not long after. Not only because of John but probably a culmination of things. I worked hard at beating it and went on for several years speaking about mental illness. Some fools actually let me go on TV and radio to ramble on. I hope they don’t regret that.

In a very strange way all this has all come full circle. I work in hospice now. Last Thursday I went for my usual afternoon shift. You really don’t know what to expect. You can have a full house with our 18 beds or you can just have a handful. This day things were hopping.

I like to visit the patients and their families. Somehow I just feel comfortable doing it. I walked past a room where a family had been gathering. Ironically there were three daughters standing vigil and the man’s name was John. As the afternoon wore on the patient was in what is called transition but the girls decided to take a short break. You have to get rest sometime.

As I swung by the room a little later something didn’t seem quite right. His breaths were shallow so I decided to stop in for a moment. “Hey big guy, how’s it going?” No response. I knew that. I felt for a pulse and it was beyond weak. As I watched his chest heave one last time he let out his final breath. I didn’t know if he was religious but I said a prayer any way. Couldn’t hurt. I called the nurse and her cold stethoscope calmly confirmed the verdict.

I sat for a moment and just thought about the rite of passage I had been a small part of. It was beautiful and I felt blessed. I also realize some of you think I am crazy. Maybe so but things took on a different perspective for the rest of my day. Kind of the way my life has after my buddy John. Hopefully all these years have made me a little better man and a few people happier for what I do.

So I say to the dad and mom and wife and kids of Chris and others somehow things work out. I can’t make the hurt go away but maybe I can give you something to hang onto for the future. Thank you for sharing your life with me and thanks to all of you for reading this very special message.

As always
Ted The Great.

Factoids:
100 billion people have died since the beginning of time. No one has beaten the rap. Makes you feel insignificant doesn’t it?
When a person dies their sense of hearing is the last thing to go.
No one has died of old age since 1951. Since then the government has taken that classification off death certificates.
80% of the people die in hospitals
Every hour at least one person is killed by a drunk driver.

Culture is one of those words that can have numerous definitions or connotations as it were. The most obvious is the Arts and manifestations of human intellectual achievement. That being said it is also the cultivation of bacteria, tissue, cells…an artificial medium containing nutrients. How devilish are the implications of that ascription? It actually gives you a sad but true insight into a sickness known as Ted’s Head.

Now my son Scott and his wife and kids are moving to London in August for at least two to three years. It will be interesting to see if they undergo culture shock. That is the personal disorientation one undergoes by living in a new place and having to adapt or at least accept new ways of looking at life. Out of your comfort zone. Hmmm. That will probably be ameliorated somewhat by their understanding of the language but our first visit will be more than intriguing.

To wit they are selling their cars and will traipse around the city on the Tube, busses or taxis. They are going to rent an apartment rather than buying. No nice yard to play in but rather avail themselves of the numerous parks that abound. Their adopted country will have a queen but that just might prepare them for our future political state upon their return. Princes, earls and duchesses are a dime a dozen there. But then again don’t we have royalty on Park Avenue and Rodeo Drive? They think so.

Of course if things get out of hand we will have culture wars. This is actually quite serious and where we find ourselves right now. Over a period of time we develop tendencies and philosophies that if not challenged become more and more imbedded in our psyches. As we become more and more entrenched those isms, they cause us to cede any rational thought and the result is polarization.

The most obvious is the rift, chasm or gulf between traditionalists/conservatives and progressives/liberals. If it was purely relevant to pulling a lever in the voting booth that would be fine. But in recent decades fueled by political rhetoric and hate radio we clearly line up on one side or the other 24/7. Pat Buchanan put it best in a speech at the Republican convention in 1992 when he said “We are fighting for the soul of America”. Further on he chastised the base by saying “we can not tolerate the efforts of the Clintons to change our society.” Whether he is right or not, it doesn’t exactly leave wiggle room when trying to bring a country together.

Abortion, guns, privacy, drugs, same sex marriage, capital punishment, pornography, right to die, right to live, immigration, fracking, political correctness, global warming, the environment, Israel, the Middle East,Russia, China, Al Quaeda, drones, Guantanamo. Phew! That’s just the opening salvo from one side or the other. I dare you to tell me you don’t have some very strong feelings one way or the other on each of these. Now here is the interesting part. Can you say you are solid red or blue on each and every one of them?

The great equalizer is saying you are economically conservative and socially liberal. The pundits will tell you that is a copout. I say it is a beginning. Stats say that the country is becoming more and more centric or independent. The lunatic fringe is becoming more vocal but seems to be losing its way and ergo its supporters. I think or I should say I hope that the prospect of gridlock for many years to come is depressing for more and more of us. The inability to compromise is not necessarily cultural for most of us but rather institutional to serve the very few.

At its beginnings the Tea Party had merits. It was a group of interested citizens not political wing nuts. They wanted to cut the impact of government and give the country back to the people. I didn’t disagree yet. But then they hooked up with the Republican party. Politicians latched on to the band wagon and it became the vehicle for more maneuverings and less action. Another neat idea run amok in the cesspool of DC. Their innocent strivings fell prey to the realities of today’s political world and the far right. Too bad.

Whether it was Buchanan or Clinton who put polarization into the petri dish of the body politic doesn’t really matter. It’s there and its virility is going unchallenged. On this Fourth of July weekend I really take offense. I don’t like anyone telling me what to do as you well know. Let’s have our own petri dish and grow something without the powers that be. Let’s demonstrate that there is a middle to everything. I like that culture. Hope you do too.

As always
Ted The Great

Factoids: None. I am going to have Vodka and Tonic and cook out. Cheers.

Thursday dawned beautifully as always in our concrete aerie. The sun streams in from about five directions and yours truly had a busy day ahead. I took five flights in single bound(almost) and proceeded to hit the elliptical machine full bore. I was trying to fend off some of the ill effects I knew the weekend would bring. The International Brotherhood of Maniacs and Lost Souls was having its annual meeting. Attendance mandatory.

Now the enclave takes place in a magical place called Black Lake Ranch. Once you turn off the main highway a few miles north of Silverthorne, CO, the dusty road begins and for the next four days there is no contact with the outside world. That is for our benefit as well as the neighbors. One of which is the Master Bait and Tackle Shop. I kid you not. The dirt path takes you about five miles inland over cattle guards and busted gates. The scenery is magnificent but with no pretension. The heavy snowfalls of the Rockies give forth to rushing streams and a lake that shows well above F. Tastes good to be back home again.

The 12 Apostles as it were fill the unpaved parking lot with Mercedes, Beemers, Audis, pickups of all sorts and of course the Lesbaru. With a ton of dust all over them from the trek no one seems to care what you drive. The fishing gear is exotic and first class. Such a novice as me just tries to get the pole together in proper fashion and of course look cool. Sometimes yes. Sometimes no.

The screen door opens and Debbie and Jim and Carla and Taz greet us. These people are fabulous cooks and even better hosts. The dress is informal and the food hearty. The dining area and bar face the water in all directions. The furniture sturdy but simple. Neat but not gaudy. The den has the requisite stone fireplace. Make your way upstairs and find a room. Any room. Roommates are decided by who gets there first. Sleep is not the first priority.

We meet for drinks of all concoction. Roll your own and loosen up on the porch. Light a fat one and the session is called to order. There is no Speaker of the House and no decorum either. Get your barbs sharpened lest ye be attacked. The laughter and good will echo across the lake. Everyone is fair game. This is getting good.

What a wonderful mixture of old and not so old. Oil men, builders and bond types. People not speaking of accomplishments nor resumes but of life and all that it holds. Where are you from and what is your life like? Not let me tell you a thing or two. Almost like a Navy ward room without the stripes. Some are thoughtful and restrained. Others are outspoken and passionate. I bet you are wondering hole I fall into? So much insight into business. So much to learn about life.

The fishing was not great but it didn’t matter. My friend Jim and I spent a couple of hours just shooting the breeze occasionally casting but just taking it all in. He is a brute of a man and when he shakes your hand you know it and that smile is irrepressible. A Wyoming man in every sense of the word. He has been places and done things that bespeak his wisdom. He spoke to us one night at dinner about the Keystone Pipeline and you got a totally different viewpoint. That of the farmer and a common man. He told me he almost ran against Dick Chaney for Congress. I really wish he had.

It’s quiet there at the lake. I left my cell phone and iMac home. I took notes in the morning over a cup of Joe. I just look out over that water and watched osprey and eagles fish for life and not just for fun. Funny how they didn’t have much trouble snatching things. Sometimes you caught yourself thinking about absolutely nothing. Then on other tracks you are sure you have solved most of the problems of the world. Oh yeah that was when I and the Body Snatcher singlehandedly attacked Jim’s bottle of Jameson 12.

After four days of all this madness we bid adieu. Put the cards away and shook hands one last time. Kiss and hug the cooks and and a farewell that you know was more than perfunctory. Back to sanity but then again was I actually leaving it there in that verdant mountain pass? I wish I was a poet or a really good writer that could convey the beauty and the tranquility. I still hope you get the idea.

Back home I waded through a collection of the Denver Posts and WSJs. It was actually quite startling to read page after page of mayhem and human deceit. The IRS, GM and BNP were tied for first place among the deceitful. The Rockies were nowhere near first place. Sunnis were killing Shiites. Syrians were killing their countrymen. So were Americans killing there own in urban corridors. There was a gang shooting at Red Rocks, the most tranquil outdoor venue for music in these United States. But we have our rights you know.

It’s hard to come from the primeval balance of nature to our ordered chaos and think we really know what we are doing. Those birds were building their nest with well selected twigs. We feather ours with well selected stocks. I guess they fight over fish. We fight over road rage. And today they arrested 268 of our fellow citizens for child sex trafficking. You thought Boko Harem were beyond seemly.

I am not for a moment saying we all go back to nature. The mother earth couldn’t take it. I am not saying this hasn’t gone on for centuries. We are not the Edisons of crime and waste. But it does do one’s soul good to just step back and go fishing. To put away technology and pick up interaction. Hey, you can do it in a park or a Starbucks near you. Come on in. The water’s fine.

As always
Ted The Great.
Factoids:
There are over 3.5 million miles of rivers and streams in the US. There are 123,000 lakes that are 10 acres or more. Black Lake is close to 70 acres.

There are 376 National Parks covering some 83 million acres. The entry fee for 7 days is usually no more than $25. Senior citizens buy a lifetime pass for $10.

FBI: 25 child prostitutes rescued, 45 pimps arrested in Super Bowl sex trafficking offensive. 2/5/14

Carly Simon couldn’t have said it any better. And by the way wouldn’t you feel the same way too? We have elevated every manner of celebrity to the pinnacle of all that is worldly and then some. Sports people, entertainers, newscasters and politicians alike. Who in their right mind would swoon adoringly at Bill, Hillary, or Bill O’Reilly? I gotta get a drink.

I would like to think we are in unusual times but I then hearken back to Grecian and Roman times. I can see Socrates as Time’s Man of the Year way back when. Cleopatra would be all over People magazine of the day. And what better on the cover of Men’s Health than Samson or Gluteus Firmus, the current gladiator rock star.

The Renaissance brought us a combo of artists, sculptors, royalty and Popes. Louis and Leo Umpteenth not only got adulation but if you weren’t singing with the choir there was a chance you would appear next minus your head or at least be condemned to hell. All the while people looked in and thought these characters had it made. They might have had it all wrong.

Now today we go the the far side. Lady Gaga at the recent musical extravaganza in Austin had a woman swallow something really foul and then throw up all over her spangled body. She called it art and I call it very strange. There was not a dry eye in the house…literally. We cheer and protest over murderers. We cheer for their lawyers. We cheer for the jury. Everyone gets their 15 minutes of fame. Does anyone think this has gone a little far?

This is not anti Clintons but would anyone in their right mind pay either one of them $200,000 to talk for 45 minutes? What could they possibly have to say that would be worth $3300 per minute? Lawyers don’t even make that much. Oh I forgot. Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley. Now I can sleep much better knowing that my financial resources are secure in the hands of these rocket scientists. I think we should bring back TARP.

Let’s take it from the top. You are a wayward soul that gets a part, a show or elected. You were a nobody but somehow you are all of a sudden interesting although you grew up in Queens. People hang on your every word. You acquire a posse that tells you night and day how cool you are as long as you keep footing the bill. You make money big time and spend it on a house, several cars and clothes. Sooner or later you really start to believe this crap and then you want people to make an appointment to see you. You Vant to Be Alone. Can’t a guy or gal get a little privacy?

Now the diva or male counterpart kicks in . You want only red and green M and M’s in your office or dressing room. You have to have your water flown in from France. The finest antiques and granite from somewhere in Italy has to adorn your palace. And there is a couple of Italian guys laughing their asses off over how much you paid. But you didn’t really pay. The schmucks who pay $15 for a movie ticket, $5,000 for court side seats, $4,000 for a campaign fundraiser or $150 a month cable bill are the ones footing your luxury tab.

That to me is where it really gets weird. I haven’t figured out if it is idolatry of their achievements or just because they are famous? Deep down do we really want to be them? They have all the fame and the money and the stuff and somehow do we think that would really make us happy? Right now I have to ask how many happy people there are in Hollywood or your local arena? Do they really seem well adjusted? And as the icing on the cake how are those kids handling their parents fame and fortune? I know my answer.

It should be just an interesting sidebar to life but somehow I think we have really pushed the envelope. Especially among young people who view them as the end all and be all. It’s a free world but there was an article in the paper this AM about young girls having a cosmetics party akin to Tupperware or a trunk show. They were 11-13 years old! Kim Kardashian had liposuction on her toes so she fit into her shoes on her 10th or 11th wedding day. Teens today are getting plastic surgery for anything from boobs to hips. Come on TTG it’s just good clean fun. Right.

If it was just that I would laugh and say, Big Deal. We have amped up everything in our culture. Social networking adds an aura that you and I really can’t control. The impersonality and anonymity of it make it so easy to tease and torture. Today every kid is being held to social standards that are next to impossible to meet. Bullies and bitches can wipe out a whole lot of love you have worked so hard to nurture.

And their role models? Look around you and tell me whom you would like them to be like? Who makes your People magazine or cover of Time? Just leave it out there on the coffee table for you and your kids and grandkids to aspire to. But then again, you probably don’t think this song is about you.

As always
Ted The Great

Factoids:
Oprah Winfrey grew up in poverty in rural Mississippi.
Madonna worked at Dunkin’ Donuts when she first came to NYC
Sex guru Dr Ruth was a trained Israeli sniper. No kidding.
Donald Trump was paid $1.5 million for a speech at a real setae expo. There were 17 of them.
Rudy Giulliani get $270,000 per speech
Bill Clinton was paid $750,000 by Ericsson to give a speech in Hong Kong. He and Hilary were broke you know.

If you didn’t catch the D Day commemorations this weekend you should go back on various network websites, pour a scotch or a glass of wine and just sit back. The memories were so clear, the emotions still so raw after 70 years that Kathy and I were rapt with interest and and an enormous sense of pride and humility. These guys were good.

Utah, Gold and Omaha beach were not sterile and abstract war games as the drones of today. There were no Stormin’ Normans displaying instant replays of bombs hitting their targets. No satellites to forecast the weather. Just blood and guts and a bunch of very courageous men.

We went to Normandy a few years ago and it is truly an experience you should not miss on so many different levels. The enormity defies description. There were over 11,000 planes and 700 ships that took part in the invasion. Rommel was convinced he had the fortresses that could not be scaled and you could see first hand what the phrase”war of attrition” meant.

Can you imagine being one of the 40 or so in each landing craft making its way towards shore. You took a long drag on your Camel or Lucky Strike and you looked around at your comrades in arms and wondered which one of you were at death’s door? Literally. The front bay door dropped and the incessant barrages of fire mowed and maimed one man in three in the first few seconds. . The waves and shoreline held schools of dead bodies from the first half hour of battle. The water was red with blood and those sons of bitches just kept on firing and picking off teenage soldiers like shooting galleries on a carnival midway.

The most striking thing to me was that this was a war of all the American people. Back home we were able to churn out ships and planes by the thousands in a frenzy of building. Rosey the Riveter had a lot of help. The country rationed gas, sugar and metal to aid the effort. People grew Victory Gardens not as a cute way to be patriotic but because that was the only way they were going to get fresh produce. Sure there was complaining but it was muted. This was not a vague far off concept but reality.

Almost coincidentally they opened the 9/11 museum at the former WTC a few weeks ago. After viewing the ceremony on TV I likened the surroundings to the visitor center at Omaha Beach. We didn’t breeze through on a schedule but spent hours watching and reading vignettes in little alcoves. All the while you saw the GI’s packs and supplies on display that almost seemed primitive. There was no Kevlar in the helmets. Just metal brain buckets. There were no medivac choppers just litters being passed by those who still had limbs that worked. Oh, we have become a lot better at war now. In Viet Nam we only lost 55,000. In Iraq and Afghanistan just a few thousand. Tell that to a wife or mom or dad.

After a long time in the center you take a purposeful walk to the cemetery. You have seen pictures before but you just don’t know how poignant the first few rows are. As you start to scan the manicured gravesites lined up in perfect symmetry you realize just how many men were gunned down in just one place. They have found their rest for these last 70 years overlooking a strikingly serene stretch of the French coast.

The PBS special was particular. There were four fellows from different branches in the service. There were coxswains and paratroopers. Grunts and airmen. They each told there story as if it were yesterday not 70 years prior. They laughed off the danger. They wept when they told of a buddy that was no longer. All this seared into their arthritic bones and wounded psyches. War is a horrible but somehow necessary part of life. We can’t resolve issues or tyrannies with words. Might is sadly right. And some can never forget it.

The French at least on the coast have been forever grateful. You can feel it as you see the Stars and Stripes right next to the Tricolor on towering flagpoles. I take President Hollande at his word when he conveys the thanks of a liberated nation. But I do question his resolve when he sells warships to boost his drooping economy to a Russia we are trying to coerce with sanctions. But I forgot. It’s just business. Frau Merkel wants everybody to play nice and not upset her economic juggernaut. And Obama and Putin pout like teenagers who have had an ugly breakup to a bumpy romance. Oi vey.

Therein lies my one big problem. I wish one of those old guys with the VFW piss cutters or the commemorative ball caps would just ask the suits to sit down and shut up. They could address the crowds in plain and simple talk that would be more than elegant and statesmanlike. I can always dream.

As I write this piece I can’t help but feel not only for the D Day guys but for all those who have fought forgotten wars. Korea and Viet Nam in particular. The Greatest Generation is more than an appropriate moniker for these bands of brothers. But there is a lot of other men and women who have given more than their fair share in the years since. Each and every one has played a part. They should have their day in the sun but unfortunately that ain’t going to happen. C’est la vie. C’est la guerre.

Someone said there will never be another assault like D Day in the history of the world. Given the state of warfare that is true. But then I wonder if we need a good kick in the pants every now and then. Not to beef up our fire power but to realize just how precious this thing is that we call our freedom. It’s so much more than a business. It is our life…and our future. Young and old should feel that deep down.

As always
Ted The Great.

Factoids:
U.S. casualties on D-Day: 2,499 dead, 3,184 wounded, 1,928 missing, 26 captured.
• Other Allied casualties on D-Day: approximately 2,700 British, 946 Canadians.
• German casualties: 4,000-9,000.
• Total killed, wounded or missing in the Battle of Normandy (June 6-25) for both sides: 425,000.
• French civilians killed in Normandy: 15,000-20,000, mainly from Allied bombing.

There were 156,000 troops that came ashore on D Day 73,000 Americans and 83,000 British and Canadian.

General Eisenhower had a letter of apology drawn up taking full blame for the failure of D Day if things did not go well.

The Germans flooded the fields where our paratroopers landed and many drowned to death.

OVER EIGHTY MILLION PEOPLE WERE KILLED IN WWII 2/1/2% of the world’s population.

And Keeps On Ticking. Some of us old farts remember the old Timex commercial with John Cameron Swayzee. They would put this watch through all sorts of torture and and then hold it up to show it was still working. I had this same experience this week when I underwent certain tests for my not so annual physical. You see I still think I am bullet proof and only gentle prodding by my wife caused me to darken the doc’s doorway.

Sonograms are in a word amazing. They grease you up and then put this thing over various parts of your body and voila there you are in black and white on the big screen. Kidneys, liver, carotid arteries et al were interesting but when they got to the heart, that really caught my attention. Yes, despite current thinking I actually have one. They show you the aorta, ventricles etc. but what was really fascinating was some sort of valve. It opened and closed like a snare drum keeping the rhythm of the band. All in time and without any urging. How very cool.

As is my want I did some calculations and reasoned that this baby had done this same function 2,649,024,000 times during my 69 years. Without missing a beat as it were. Being an inquisitive sort I leapt to my iMac upon arrival home and started looking at all the things that go into TTG. Depending on who is counting there are anywhere from 7-11 major systems in your body. Skeletal, muscular, lymphatic, cardiovascular, nervous just to name a few. But just think about it. All these complex systems are whirring away 24/7 and for the most part all in perfect balance.

Some are voluntary and some are involuntary. One monitors temperature. One processes all the good and bad stuff we put in our body. One reacts to stimuli. One wards off intruders. We pump blood and oxygen to the far reaches of our corpus delectum and and then pick up the trash to be disposed at the recycling plant. That brain of ours is clicking away in a zillion directions, giving orders and processing information. Hormones are keeping balance or may be knocking you for a loop. But this all goes on day in, day out with not a lot of guidance from the outside world.

While perusing the net an ad popped up for of all things, Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes, probably in a totally nutritional sense one of the worst things you could ingest first thing in the morning. Now of course I treat my body as a temple but on the odd chance I might toss some scotch, ice cream or God forbid cigar smoke down my gullet I really thought what a good way to screw up a highly complex organism. Now it is too late to right some wrongs but I really do try to keep in decent shape at least to stay even. What about the dudes and dudettes that don’t even give pause while inhaling all manner of food and drink?

The technician noted that what we have today is simply a well oiled machine that has learned to adapt over the millennia to every sort of outside force and custom. She tiptoes to the edge of the concept of evolution but stopped short. I meditated on the question of could all this world of ours just happen as in a big bang or is there really some incredible genius that found a way to make these things work? I’ll let you decide if either approach should be doctrine. But perhaps perish the thought, the truth might lie somewhere in between.

One thing you can’t avoid is our similarities. If you strip away the dermis, shave off the hair(Right On!) and everyone’s eyes are the same color we all operate from the same set of plans. Black, white, gay or straight, the plumbing and superstructure are assembled in the same fashion. The thigh bone’s connected to the hip bone. In essence at birth we are all identical in every way.

Here’s where I get a little crazy. I know it is not the first time. Thanks for pointing that out. But just imagine if we all progressed from birth in somewhat of a logical order. There are no politics or particular form of wealth. What if we are not producers or directors or divas but just bit players in this thing called life? What if we strived to just live rather than living to strive. What if we just thought life is good and we said just live it rather than trying to manipulate it? Is war, strife and the pursuit of excellence really essential to life or better yet a part of the plan? But then again is there a plan? Dunno. Maybe TTG is getting a little too spacey but it really does cause you to wonder. Some of you are saying what is this lunatic talking about? I know what I am trying to say. Just hope I get it across.

Okay back to the mothership and planet Earth. Back to DC and Putin and Snowden and Hilary. Stock markets, commodities markets and scandals. The VA, PTA, PETA, NATO, and SEATO. Actually I don’t think SEATO exists any more. But we really must get back to reality. This is the world we all have created for ourselves….for better or for worse. I’ll take a licking and keep on ticking. I will probably ponder if I am a Timex or a Rolex. But then again who cares? They both tell time the same way.

As always
Ted The Great

Factoids:
The aorta is about the same diameter as a garden hose. You have heard of a ruptured aorta….not good.There are 100,000 miles of blood vessels in our bodies.
We shed 600,000 particles of skin every hour. The dust under your bed is probably not dust but a lot of you. Gross!
The bacteria present in our bodies weighs about four pounds. The largest part of your body is the small intestine. Go figure.
The higher your IQ the more you dream. Dream on TTG. Dream on.
If I do well on my tests I might go out and buy a carton of Marlboros and a gallon of scotch. On the other hand if I don’t come out aces I might make it with the Marlboros and two gallons of scotch.
Gas (flatus) is made in the stomach and intestines as your body breaks down food into energy. We pass gas an average of 14 times a day….and that’s the truth and THE END.

I am going to tack on at the end of this post another blog I wrote about the VA and submitted to the Denver Post. I guess they found it unprintable but then again so many of my musings probably should be. Regardless of my feelings, the VA is probably too big and under financed for the job ahead. There are almost 1800 facilities seeing 200,000 veterans a day. This is only going to get worse and therein lies the rub. They are not alone.

Sooner or later our dreams are going to catch up with our checkbook. We have saved soldiers on the field of battle from what would have been sure death in Viet Nam or WW II. We have brought them home bruised and broken both physically as well as psychologically. You can’t put a price tag on their care but it is going to swell costs well beyond any foreseeable budget. Who is going to pay for this? Memorial Day sounds very patriotic until you start hitting the US of A in its wallet.

Medicare was devised in the mid 1960’s. No one could have dreamed of the advances in medical science and drugs. We have transplants, artificial limbs and organs. We have also discovered diseases that are so rare that only a few hundred people may be affected. We have heart procedures that cost $500,000. Medicines that require an annual outlay of $450,000 and higher. I believe if you pull out all the stops there are very few obstacles in medicine that can’t be overcome to prolong people’s lives for weeks months and years. No one is discussing those stops.

I am not Ted Kervorkian but someone, anyone please tell me how we are going to pay for all this? We have people hitting 65 at the rate of 10,000 per day. As a portion of the federal budget, medicine has soared from 6% in the 90’s to 17-18% now and hitting the 25% range within 10 years. It will require premiums to increase with more deductibles and less coverage. Rationing is a dirty word when it comes to healthcare but we may just come down to it being the only practical way out.

Getting back to the VA, I have to wait a few weeks(not months) for various appointments but I get them. But I can live with it…literally. Maybe it’s unfair for me to equate my personal situation because I am in decent shape and good health. But that still begs the question if you have screwed up your body should you be eligible for non stop cures? We have so many questions that will require incredible decision making and ethical calls. I am sure in some back room of NIH or Harvard Med School these tortured enigmas are longing for clear cut answers but it sure is beyond the pay grade of the gang in Congress. But under the moniker of Obamacare or any other acronym we are all going to be in this together.

I find it fascinating that during all the deliberations of the above, all we worried about was getting people under the insurance tent. No one discussed the current and future costs and how they might be reduced to something sustainable by the American public. You could soak the 1% up to their gills and not come up with the necessary numbers. You even work your way down to the 5%, 10% 0r even 25%. The beans can be counted every which way but loose but the bottom line does not lie.

When we travelled through the South there were huge billboards for this emergency room or that citing the waiting times to be seen. The clarion of 8 or 12 minutes gave you clear sailing with your cold or stomach ache all the while spending the highest treatment dollars available. In Denver several hospitals are enlarging their emergency facilities to satisfy the increased demand and of course reap the most profit. You can text “ER” to get the full rundown of those gurneys and treatment rooms just waiting for you and your loved one. Are we that incredibly stupid or just naive enough to think this will just work itself out somehow? Left to our own designs we will probably perish.

I draw these conclusions. The VA is too large with 1800 facilities and not enough professional managers to ensure top quality care without the inherent imperfections associated with a government bureaucracy. Overall our medical costs will continue to soar as we further implant profit motives into making people well. Competition has not yielded the hoped for lowering in costs. Both the Congress and its electorate(us) will not make the hard decisions to bring costs under control. The obvious solutions of means testing for social services, increasing the retirement age and a proactive form of preventive medicine will not sell back home. And after all the will of the people supersedes any rational thought to the contrary.

You know the old story about buffets. People will gorge themselves to “get their money’s worth”. Overeating and over consuming have become a national creed. Bureaucracies tend to foster cheats and scammers. We will have the obligatory investigation and heads will roll. Sort of. We knew about the VA back in the Bush years. Cerberus must be fed. We have created the monster and it has to eat. The solution? Starvation diet. Don’t bet on it. Wait isn’t there a show called The Biggest Loser?

As always
Ted The Great
Factoids:
Soliris is a drug treating a rare blood disorder that perhaps 500 Americans have. The annual cost is $409,000.
Ditto Elaprase for people with Hunter Syndrome. Annual cost $375,000
Lastly ACTH which is used for infants who have spasms. Monthly cost is $115,000.

Heart transplant…total cost before and after surgery in 2011 $997,700
Lung Transplant. $561,200 Double Lung…$797,300
Kidney….$262,900

The Wily Veteran

The cause celebre at the moment is the Department of Veterans Affairs. Ranking right up there with motherhood and apple pie you mess with vets you are barking up the wrong tree. As with other favorite whipping boys the press dig and trip the light fantastical stopping every now and then to retrieve a fact or two. All the news that fits the print. Leave out anything that doesn’t fortify your premise.

This all started with a VA Hospital in Phoenix. A retired doctor stated at least fifty people died while waiting for appointments. There were rumors of a fake waiting list that prevented these people from seeing a doctor for months,even years. That there was doctoring of books is not beyond the realm of possibility and probably real. Did these people die of natural causes while in the system? The doctor couldn’t say. Was the number really fifty? Once again no way of knowing at this time. He stated he may have exaggerated.

I am a veteran. I am enrolled in the VA medical system. After being exposed to Agent Orange I was bumped up a couple of notches on a priority list. It provides me a simple access to medications but moreso it can provide long term benefits should I become incapacitated in later years. In simple terms if I go to LaLa land Kathy can just send me out and finally be done with me. Not just yet sweetie.

About three years ago I showed up on a Saturday afternoon in February for my entry physical. My appointment (which took three weeks to get) was for 2:00P.M.To be fair it does not have the appearance of the Mayo Clinic but the people were beyond friendly and courteous. I was ushered in at 1:55. A woman sat behind a slightly dated computer terminal and asked me to sit down. Then the fun began.

She took a variety of readings from temperature to blood pressure. All the while she was asking me questions regarding my medical history. Depending on whether I answered yes or no, new trees of questions were generated. Wait a minute. You mean I don’t have to fill out twenty pages of questions in triplicate and all the while printing my name,birth date and SSN on every scrap of paper. No sir, it is all right here. I like this place.

The business man in me got intrigued. How long have they had this program? It seems that it has been in place for many years. It is public domain software and is used in several foreign countries. But wait, why don’t we use it in private medicine? Oh I get it. Not invented here. Now every time I show up I give them my last name and last four of my SSN and presto my entire history pops up. It has a fail safe if two or more drugs don’t interact properly you can’t prescribe. This is too easy.

I then received a physical covering vital systems and coordination(must have flunked) that is one of the most comprehensive I have ever gotten. I receive a flu shot, pneumonia shot and tetanus shot all in one sitting. They schedule blood tests and while we are going through this there is a knock at the door.It is a pharmacist with my prescriptions filled. The practitioner gave me her card with her cell phone and said to call her with any questions.When I strolled through the front door of our house at 701 Williams at 3:15 Kathy said, “What happened?” I said, “You wouldn’t believe it”.

Without going on and on I have been seen by dermatology, hematology, and had various scans and tests appropriate for my age. I have never in some 10 plus appointments ever had to wait more than 10 minutes past my scheduled time. Most of the time they are early. I am addressed as Sir not because I was a former officer but because I am a patient. I had an exam and biopsy for skin cancer that took less than 30 minutes. Any prescription refills are mailed to me. In a word, I am a happy camper. Maybe it’s a fluke. I don’t think so.

When I read all the hue and cry I had to write this. There are 1800 VA medical sites throughout the country. They see 200,000 people per working day or a total of 8.76 million visits per annum. I pondered if there are 1% disgruntled patrons that would be 2,000 per day. I am not one of them. With those massive numbers do things fall through the cracks? Of course. If there are 5% of the facilities that are poorly run that comes to 90 clinics and hospitals. They should be taken to task but think about all the good ones out there. What do you think is the failure rate in private institutions?

The staff is beyond competent with many doing internships and residencies at the Colorado Medical Center. They are proactive. When I just mentioned I wanted to lose weight in my initial interview I received a phone call following up. When I came home from Florida there was a note saying I had to call to make an appointment for my annual checkup. Does this sound like a bunch of screwups to you? Not all apples in the barrel are rotten. It just takes a wily veteran to understand this.

As always
Ted The Great.

Factoids;

There are three distinct areas of the Department of Veterans Affairs.:Medical, Benefits(such as disability and GI Bill) and Burials and Memorials. It employs just under 300,,000 people. It has an annual budget of approximately $90 billion.

There are 21 million veterans in the US today. Approximately 3/4 of that group has served in a war or time of conflict. The responsibility to care for veterans, spouses, survivors and dependents can last a long time. Two children of Civil War veterans still draw VA benefits. About 184 children and widows of Spanish-American War veterans still receive VA compensation or pensions.

I pay a copay on any visit to a specialty based on my income. I have a copay of $9 per month per prescription. They can change the drugs to a similar or generic at their option. Because of this the VA pays approximately 40% less for drugs than Medicare Part D.

This is a reprint of a chapter I wrote in a book that was recently published about Swift Boats in Viet Nam. I was also able in some small way to help edit the book, “Restoration of a Legacy” Maritime Museum of San Diego. It’s a little longer than most Ted’s Heads. I beg your pardon

What The Hell Am I Doing Here?….
By Ted Kenny
I have asked myself this question several times during my life. I remember asking it on more than one occasion in the surface Navy and probably daily in Vietnam on a floating beer can called a Swift Boat.

I have always loved the water. The year was 1967 and most everyone was serving whether they wanted to or not. The Navy was a natural for me and became even more imperative when I reported to my induction physical at Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn . The standard “turn your head and cough” and “bend over and spread your cheeks” routine suggested to me that the Army was not the way to go.

But real fear reared its ugly head when a fellow inductee had an eye exam. The medic shouted over to the sergeant that this guy couldn’t see out of his left eye. The noncom barked if he could see out of the right eye? Affirmative, came the reply. He passed the physical. Oh my God. They are taking any warm body.

Now at this time I was waiting for orders to Navy Officers’ Candidate School in Newport , R.I. It was a race to the finish and I won. I raised my right hand and punched my ticket to Narragansett Bay . At that very moment my induction notice was being delivered to my parent’s house. Thank heavens for small favors.

My first two years as a line officer were uneventful and even offered spare time in one of the country’s best cities, Boston . My ship was in the yards and I decided to put off reading Tolstoy’s War and Peace in favor of cavorting from one end of town to the other with one of my shipmates. The XO actually told me once that he was grateful I had the duty every four days so my liver would hold up until my next duty station.

There in Boston I met the cutest thing, who would eventually become my wife. She was living with four girls I went to Georgetown with. It was love at first sight, but I couldn’t go quietly. I mean I have my standards. Sure enough we had not just a lover’s quarrel but a full blown breakup. It was Dear Ted or Dear Kathy depending on how you looked at it.

The plot thickens. Enter Stage Right, my detailer—the guy in Washington who allegedly looks after you when you need new orders. “Where would you like to go?” Just get my ass out of here, I said. East Coast? West Coast? Just get me out as fast as possible. Long deliberation and thoughtful reasoning hasn‘t always been part of my modus operandi.

Six weeks later I had now made up with my then girl friend now wife and the phone rang in the ship’s office. “It’s for you Mr. Kenny.” Uh oh, the Detailer! He told me I was going to Coastal Squadron One. Hmm, I thought, staff duty. How nice. I asked where this palatial outpost was and got a little queasy when he said in-country, Vietnam . Just what am I going to be doing? You will be an Officer-in-Charge of a PCF. What’s that? Look it up in Jane’s Fighting Ships, he said, and hung up.

Sorry for all the discourse but you all should be aware I didn’t quite volunteer. On the other hand  I truly felt that if a guy with a wife and kids was over there it wasn’t my time to bail. But, neither was I running through the door with an M60 in hand and grenades strapped across my chest.

Fast-forward to a Flying Tiger 707 coming into Cam Ranh Bay. We had left Seattle in late afternoon and followed the sunset across the wide Pacific. The planes running lights were darkened  and I was now further from home than I have ever been.

As we taxied to a halt, I could feel the oppressive heat even in the middle of the night. Inside the terminal we were briefed and I noticed a chap of Asian descent darting to and fro with an Army issue nine-volt battery strapped to something. Holy Shit! He’s got a bomb and I’m not even here 30 minutes. Of course it was a transistor radio tuned to AFVN. I knew that.

Here was the start of my tour. I had 365 days and a wakeup to go. Start counting. But first I had to make many startling discoveries that weren’t particularly combat-oriented. It was one of the true ironies of modern war.

The beaches were vast and unspoiled. Saigon still had most of the trappings of a slightly seedy, delightfully wicked French colonial port city. Vung Tau, on the sea at the northeast corner of the Mekong Delta, was in many ways a resort. Do fifty or sixty days in the jungles and canals and then have a wonderful dinner with a vodka and tonic.

Yet Sea Float—our Swift base on floating barges moored in the middle of an estuary deep in the Ca Mau Peninsula, offered a totally different reality. Agent Orange rendered lifeless anything from the shoreline inland for 100 yards. No hustle and bustle. We owned 500 yards of water and wasteland in the middle of nowhere. The other side owned the rest. Welcome to Club Dead.

The Brown Water Navy was an apt description for where we were and what we did. Prolific tide changes reminded me of a toilet being flushed. The banks oozed mud and you shook your head as you watched one villager brushing his teeth, another washing clothes and a third taking a dump within shouting distance of each other. I sure hope they switched sides when the tide reversed.

I was 24, “Captain,” “skipper,” “boss” or “Ted” depending on who was talking. I was totally responsible for five crewmen and a 50-foot boat. There were no watches. I was on all the time. 24 hours a day. The guys were great but you were the man.  If you caught a catnap you were jolted awake when the engine speeds changed a mere 50 rpm. Guns. Positions. Radios. Code books. Keep everybody up and alert. Ain’t nobody but you holding this thing together.

Train all you want, the most amazing and challenging part was making split second decisions. You tried to skew the odds as best you could, but you realized if you screwed up there wasn’t much latitude. You had a bit of a swagger. You were a Swiftie. But you tried to keep your emotions and arrogance in check. We were playing for keeps.

There were, of course, hijinks here and there. Some planned. Some embarrassing. One of our brethren and his band of merry men had all fallen asleep when they plowed through some guy’s hut from the bedroom to the living room. Although funny at first the reality of invasion of these people’s world was sobering. Sometimes you just couldn’t win hearts and minds no matter what you did. And their lives were changed forever.

I felt for the villagers who had probably traveled to a city maybe once in their lives even though it was only ten miles away. You got the feeling they didn’t care if we were VC or American. Just leave us alone to fish and exist. Over centuries how often were these same thoughts shared by simple people who were just pawns in the battle over power and domination. Tough stuff.

There was a camaraderie among fellow officers and crewmen that can’t be duplicated. We lived on boats, barges and barracks, ate crappy food and laughed and kept each other safe. Arguments were rare. That was the one thing that was probably not healthy for anyone.

Another was that you actually liked a fast pace—several patrols in a 24-hour period—because time passed quickly. And the scariest part was that it did become our home. You fell into a rhythm. A routine. You haven’t lived until you shower with ice cold water provided by a cistern. There were so many mosquitoes it sounded like JFK airport at night.

Every so often you had “Merry Go Round watch”. One boat circled the base and a nest of moored gunboats. They were parked there for the night to get some much needed rest. We continually dropped concussion grenades on our loop to ward off sappers all the while gunners from the base were firing 50 caliber rounds into the woods to keep them low. Not exactly a night at the Ritz but we all dealt with it. Life’s a bitch. Then you die. Hope not.

So many years have passed. Memories fog. We always err on the plus side and embellishment seems to be the order of the day. But my thoughts aren’t on this rice paddy or that. I can’t remember the names of the rivers and checkpoints. To this day I have no affinity for guns or high capacity magazines.

I think I have earned to right to speak of war as a horrendous waste of money and men’s and women’s lives. Not as a Vietnam veteran against the war. Not as a pacifist. Just as a thinking and sometimes sane person who looks at the facts and draws an obvious conclusion about the futility of such folly as the few pursue power and domination. And then once again I have to ask, “What the hell are we doing here?”

Ted Kenny Ltjg. USNR

Our world is replete with men and woman who are more than happy to tell how smart, talented, rich, good looking and famous they are. Just ask them. They have braved the new world, conquered hardship, fought the good fight all on their own. The are to be respected and worshipped or idolized depending on your religious bent. They are Eden, Nirvanna and Superhero all rolled into one. Wow! What a guy or girl!

The Donald was crowing at Doral a few weeks ago that he and he alone had created this wonderful golf course. Who else could get Tiger Woods to let him put his name on a villa? Larry Ellison can buy sail boat racing’s America’s Cup. It was his vision. His money. His superior brainpower designed the vague resemblance to a yacht. How did these guys do it? Truth be told, they and you and I had help.

There is no doubt that advanced stages of egoism carry the tragic DNA that causes one to go blind and have severe memory lapses. Fr. Pat in a homily a few weeks ago called attention to this and it has stuck with yours truly. A skyscraper or Megamansion is not a “Monument to Me”. It is the result of thousands of hours put in by architects to engineers. Skilled steelworkers to common laborers. Yes lawyers and bankers and real estate professionals too.

If you wear a $5,000 suit, someone had to weave the fabric. To go to the very beginning a farmer provided the raw material of wool or silk. Another common man had to sew it, tailor it and even after the fact dry clean it. Your alligator or suede shoes were donated by a friend in the animal kingdom. They were cut and sewn by a craftsman. Socks. Skivvies. you name it. You had no part in the manufacture of your fabulous wardrobe. You were just dumb enough to pay an exorbitant price for it. Get a grip.

Let’s get even more basic. If you were born with a silver spoon, good for you. If you weren’t there was a mom and a dad that worked their butts off at home and in the office to give you a chance. They could have been great or not so but they were there and except in very rare circumstances provided a roof over your head and food on your table. I have spoken before of the “Lucky Sperm Club” and every millionaire or billionaire today is a testament to it.

Now I can hear the chorus now about it takes a village and all the sarcastic comments to go with it. Sorry kids but we are interdependent more than ever. The global economy is here to stay and if you don’t believe me look at the countries of origin in your closet, garage or golf bag. Check out your phone, laptop and TV. I would love to buy only American but then I would probably starve or get bored to death. The world is flat and getting flatter.

Hand in hand with self importance is our ability to put a lot of distance between us and where we came from. I remember growing up on Wall Street with friends with whom I drank beer and ate hamburgers in the early days. Later on as titles were painted on doors I was with one at dinner one evening when he declared an expensive wine, swill. Selective Alzheimer’s I guess.

Bill Simon, former Secretary of the Treasury came to our trading desk as young man for orientation when he first came into the municipal bond business. My dad kept track of his career as he made his way up the chain from Salomon Brothers to DC. Simon put my father on a guest list for his going away party from the Beltway. My dad called his office and asked for Bill to tell him of his regrets. His rather officious secretary told JJ that Mr. Simon was a very busy man. My father replied,”So am I” and slammed the phone down. Within minutes it was the Secretary himself calling back to apologize.

We get lost in our self importance. I think TV personalities, movie stars and high level execs get so used to people kissing their butts and saying yes sir or ma’am that they begin to believe their own press releases. I can’t help but feel they are so locked into their enclaves they lose all touch with everyday people. They forget the where and the how. “You are jealous TTG”, you say. Nothing could be further from the truth. I don’t begrudge anybody a dime. Just wear it well or as Lou Holtz says,”Look like you have been there before when you score a touchdown.”

Whether you are in Congress, sports, Hollywood or just Main Street America you got there as the result of a lot of hard work from a lot of people, many of whom you have never known. Arrogance is by Webster, an insulting way of thinking or behaving that comes from believing that you are better, smarter, or more important than other people. I happen to feel it is the ultimate personification of stupidity and insecurity. But that is just me.

As we get older and older our world becomes smaller and smaller. We want it to reflect our state in life. We want to be comfortable with those we have something in common with. Don’t rock the boat. They like to be with self made people. They say no one else would understand. You got that right.

As always
Ted The Great

Factoids:
Multi billionaire, Ken Langone’s father was a plumber in Roslyn,NY and his mother a cafeteria worker. Larry Ellison, the founder and CEO of Oracle, was born on the lower East Side of New York and was given up for adoption to an aunt in Chicago. Donald Trump was born to money in the person of a millionaire father who made his money in real estate. Oprah Winfrey was born impoverished in rural Mississippi.

At Gucci you can buy a leather jogging pant for $3995. Perhaps a Givenchy T shirt for $835. My favorite is a Fendi tote bag for $2550. From Dolce and Gabbana how about a christening coat for $1885? Amen sister or brother.

Roughly 80 percent of millionaires in America are the first generation of their family to be rich. According to a recent survey of the top 1 percent of American earners, slightly less than 14 percent were involved in banking or finance. Roughly a third were entrepreneurs or managers of non financial businesses. Nearly 16 percent were doctors or other medical professionals.Lawyers made up slightly more than 8 percent, and engineers, scientists and computer professionals another 6.6 percent.Sports and entertainment figures composed almost 2 percent. Someone helped somewhere. Just ask Kevin Durant.

I was chatting with my daughter Megan the other day. She was bewailing the fact that not enough people get involved in volunteer activities at her girls’ school. Only 25%. I told her things hadn’t changed much since she was in school and Kathy and I put in out time on various PTOS. cynicism aside I began to think of all the work volunteers do.

Just look around you. Go to a park and there are volunteer guides. Look at the city streets and there are those helping the homeless. Food banks. Americorps. Habitat for Humanity. Churches. Hospitals. Crisis centers. Suicide Hot Lines. Sierra Club. Save the Everglades. Donators of blood.

Incredibly there are doctors and nurses that visit foreign countries at no cost. There is a young nurse at hospice who took her vacation time to go to Mexico and assist surgeons doing cleft palate procedures. There was that poor devil from Chicago who was in an Afghani hospital when some loony decided to try out his new AK47. Some would say, what a waste. Do you really think so?

It is easy to look askance and call them do gooders or whack jobs. Tree huggers and the like. I am not sure if that is an observation or assuaging whatever guilt we might have for not being part of them. Hey I am a busy man. They have nothing else to do. Those bums have to learn to stand on their own two feet. Yadda. Yadda.

This is not a lecture on altruism because Lord knows I should do a lot more. Some folks just don’t look at things the same way. I get that. But I wondered what causes me to try to help. I think it is a combination of compassion and a sense of community that everyone should pitch in to help. That produces a quandary for TTG. My giving is countered by the fact that people do have to become self reliant. I will help until you become a pariah. Then it is adios.

But what if you went completely the other way? The antonym of altruism is selfishness or more probably in today’s lexicon, objectivism. There are two classes of people, the hard working sorts and those that want to live off the land or the government as it were. Illegal immigrants. Vagrants. Lawyers. Oops. I have now opened Pandora’s box.

All kidding aside it is good lesson for me. I was kind of blown away when I started looking for anti charitable pieces. It seems many feel volunteers are taking away jobs from the masses. They are ill equipped and not worth the trouble they cause. It takes away from the responsibility of governments to provide. Now that you have helped us, what do we do when you leave? You think you are high and mighty coming in here and showing us your ways. Why don’t you just clean up your own act? Wow.

This really plays into politics and could be a primordial reason for our divide. The Dems want the government to provide everything and by the vehicle of extreme taxation redistribute the wealth. The GOP says do it on your own. Less interference means more money and ergo loftier goals of success. That is a serious divide based not only on economic philosophies but on deep seeded emotions. Can you do both?

As in all matters cosmic the devil is in the details. Rich Liberals give far less than Conservatives. The left will say all the Koch Brothers do is write checks. We get out there with the people. The right says that charity is more from the heart when it is an individual choice and not the dole. Houston, we do have a serious problem. It really is exacerbated by the fanatical wings of both sides that want the fan the flames rather than put the fire out or at least bring it under control. Got to keep market share and ratings up.

I watched a fascinating documentary on Nature last night. An Irish lad traversed the River Shannon during various seasons. Beyond beautiful it told the story of life and death on the river. Not men but animals. All without the bias and spins of an intellectual society. There was a cycle. You were born, nurtured and then set out on your own. There was feeling of family that helped where it could. But there was also a sense that some would not make it and fall prey to disease or hunter. Haves and have nots. Harsh but incredibly real.

This all won’t sway my basic instincts. I will help wherever I can and keep looking for the elusive dream of why God put me on this earth. But it will also give me pause when I am so quick to criticize this or that. I can only ponder what your soul thinks however far left or right. I will probably stay in the middle which is not a cop out. I just think collaboration is more fruitful than confrontation.

Man did this piece come full circle. Sorry about that. I wish I was smart enough to come up with an all encompassing philosophy that lasted all the days of my life. Stubborn and unyielding in my ways would make life simpler. But then again I couldn’t look for possibilities. I couldn’t think in color. Only black and white. Every day is an adventure in learning. Not routine. Most of all I ain’t giving up. I will continue to pursue my army of the center. Any volunteers?

As always
Ted The Great

Factoids:
92% of Americans give some sort of charitable  contribution. Low-income working families are the most generous group in America, giving away about 4.5% of their income on average, compared with about 2.5 percent among the middle class, and 3 percent among high-income families. The ultimate charitable gift is an anonymous one.

In 2012, 64.5 million Americans (26.5% of the population. Sound familiar?) contributed 7.9 billion hours of volunteer service worth an estimated $175 billion of service.

Since 1961 there have been 215,000 Peace Corps volunteers. 63% are women. 37% are male. Minorities account for 24% of those contributing.

Arthur Brooks in his book “Who Really Cares,” sees “four forces in American life that are primarily responsible for making Americans charitable” — “religion, skepticism about the role of government in economic life, strong families, and personal entrepreneurism.”Brooks’ research has shown that conservatives donate about 30 percent more than do liberals.  Interestingly, on average, conservatives earn less than liberals. A separate study by Google said the number was closer to 50%.
Did all that clear anything up or make it murkier?