I am sitting here in Command Central. They are fun digs with a simple desk and my big old leather chair. One is for reading and writing. The other for sleeping. In this module they are mutually interchangeable. Big windows give me a bird’s eye view of the corner at 7th and Williams.

There are several shelves with plenty of books I have never read. There are stacks of papers begging to be put away. I have a large stack of hymns that have to be cataloged for my new choir career. And of course there is nautical and golf memorabilia strewn every which way. Don‘t you know these are all characteristics of a creative mind? Okay maybe of a severely dysfunctional personality. Hey, it’s too late to change.

Then there are boxes of toys. The grandkids hang out here to get away from their parents. There are dolls, LEGOS, water guns and boxes of craft stuff which inevitably get disbursed in equal mayhem all over the room. They tell me I am nuts and I tell them they are creepy kids. We all get along fine. They like my rules. There are none except when it comes to bodily harm. Pain is okay but when it becomes near death it has to stop.

My buddy Yeoman tells me I look at the world from 30,000 feet.
Actually I vary my altitude depending whether or not I contemplate landing. I circle several times but inevitably choose to stay airborne. Actually I should have been on the stick of that Asiana flight at SFO. I would never land at anything other than full speed.

Maybe I should buy a drone. I could equip it with sanity bullets. As my unmanned aircraft prowls the skies I could control it right from here. I would have to be careful with my target coordinates. There is a very good chance I would mistake the floor of Tahrir Square for the floors of our legislatures. Sunnis. Shiites. Muslim Brotherhood. Democrats. Republicans. All the same crackpots except for their garb.

I would opt for Preparation H suppositories rather than heat seeking missiles. I would take care of every pain in the ass in the universe. In Viet Nam we used to carry 81mm rounds with little darts in payload. I would probably try to find some old ones and use them as ego deflators. Target wall Street and DC. On second thought maybe not. I would have to expend a lot of ammo in this man’s world.

Up here in the stratosphere you see a lot of crazy things. Over the Capitol rotunda last week I watched a magic show called the Farm Bill. Now the boys and girls took out direct payments that we make to farmers every year whether they plant crops or not. That’s right we just sent it to them monthly like Social Security. That came to $17.5 billion. But the vast majority of recipients are large corporate farmers. Our brazen and bold pols stood up for us and took out this waste. An illusion befitting David Copperfield. Sort of.

Instead we have now put in price supports that kick in when wheat, corn etc go down a certain amount. Very cool except for the fact we are pegging the base point at near record prices today. So if they approach anywhere near normal they get propped up. Oh yes you should also know that the US government also pays 62% of the premium for crop insurance that farmers have to pay. The insurance companies are also guaranteed a 14% return. This all is predicated on failure of these green pastures but last year only ½ of 1% of the number of farms failed. Is it me or do you smell manure even in my aerie?

At the same time I am watching everyone bitching that SNAP (new name for food stamps) should be cut by $10 billion. Now, now, I hear the restless natives down below. Understand these programs take care of 50 million of our fellow Americans. These people live on less than $18,000 for a family of three and amount to about $3 per day. I can blow that with a VENTI Starbucks.

I know some buy booze and cigarettes but the cheat rate is actually very low. Now I know you all pay all your taxes. No one accepts cash for payment. Docs don’t pad Medicare. Rigging LIBOR? Really? You know that casting the first stone jazz. Now this is dysfunctional. But I digress.

Up here you get the big picture. It’s not your street but a city, a state and a country. You realize the diversity and sheer expanse of this place we call home. Up here people look very foolish. Their hamster pedaling and frenetic life style belie the real meaning of life.

This world is nuts and none of us have a monopoly on the insanity. The past few weeks I could probably use one of those PITA(Pain in the Ass) shots. I have been a grouch of sorts. I am also gloating because my handicap dropped two points so here come the darts.
But I also hope I have some manner of civility and compromise.

No, I don’t like your left or your right wings. You are crazy if you think it’s your way or the highway. Too bad, with your intransigence you have really forgotten how to fly. Being grounded isn’t as smart as you think it is. You don’t know what you are missing.

Major Ted over and out.

As always
Ted The Great

Factoids:
Ted The Great started many years ago. I had a friend who was the head of world wide operations for a major financial institution. I knew him in his other life so when I called his office with the requisite irreverence his executive assistant asked in a rather haughty voice who was on the line? I said, “Ted”. Indignantly she asked, “Ted who?” To which my only reply could be, “TED THE GREAT”. And now you know the rest of the story.

July 14 was Bastille Day but some Francophile has been walking by my window whistling the French National Anthem since Saturday. Vive La France!

To make $18,000 a year you have to make just under $9 per hour for a forty hour week. Approximately one in four work at that wage or below. That is the poverty threshold for a family of three and what it takes to get food stamps. Bon Apetit.

Well you would think Ted’s Head got a rest last week but not really. I have been working as a very junior editor on a new book about Swift Boats. I also had a chance to catch up on a variety of Charlie Rose, Bill Moyers and Nature shows. More interesting and exciting than they sound.

The most scintillating part of my mental gyrations was watching a series of interviews by Charlie with David McCullough, historian and story teller extraordinaire. He honed in on the Fourth of July without the beer and brats. We can all imagine the scene in beautiful downtown Philadelphia as august members of the aristocracy planned out their their future. Kind of like a Union League smoking room. Au contraire mes amis.

Most were in their 30’s and 40’s with Ben Franklin as the only senior citizen of sorts.They were firebrands and statesmen alike. They had to keep the windows closed so subversives would not overhear their conversations. A little seedy in July. They literally risked being hanged as traitors and the populace was not exactly 100% behind them. But they had a vision and nothing was going to dissuade them .

As war came to be, our wild colonial boys were outnumbered and in many cases outflanked. These were farm hands who came with no shoes, which was not unusual and the shirts on their backs. Ill equipped but they had a fire in their belly that provided an extra lift when the insurmountable hit. And they had a secret weapon in the person of George Washington.

They were a motley group and had to pick up tactics and leadership on the run. They probably had formal education of about 5 or 6 years of grammar school. GW shepherded and all the while stumbled making some serious mistakes along the way. Yet he was there to the end when most of us would have crumbled.

Incredible luck prevailed. Retreating from the Battle of Brooklyn there was an eerie fog that blanketed some 7,000 men who crossed the East River only to find the shores of Manhattan Island clear as a bell. The Brits could have wiped them out and wanted to do so but an ill wind on that same East River prevented a naval attack…and the rest as they say is history. Imagine if that fog and wind had not miraculously appeared? What would our world look like now?

Point being is that we always look back at our early days and see liberty wrapped up in a tidy package. Eat drink and be merry. The hell with the king. Let’s shoot off some fireworks. It was anything but. Eight long years bore on. How many of us would have walked barefoot in the dead of winter at Morristown or Trenton? Hungry, freezing, suffering from dissentary. We speak of our love of country and the Bill of Rights. Are you really ready to die for assault weapons and same sex marriage?

Washington was phenomenal. He didn’t want the job of General but he took it. He didn’t want to be President but he assumed the mantel. The original members of Congress did not want to hang around Washington. K Street and PACS hadn’t been invented yet. You paid for own food and transport. The gym and Capitol barbershop weren’t even on the drawing boards. These gents served out of a sense of duty and not self promotion.

There was a simplicity and yet subtleness to our constitution that worked. There was a collegiality that said we are all in this together. Let’s not step on each other’s toes but be able to do our own thing. Sequestration, lavish expenses, junkets, lobbyists, assault weapons, immigration stagnation, humongous staffs. Is this how it was supposed to be?

Pan over to a place called Rome. The Vatican to be exact. I think about the Catholic Church. It started off with a guy named Jesus who had a very simple concept. Forget about doctrine and religiosity for a minute. He wanted people to be free and care for one another. His disciples didn’t have expense accounts but travelled on their own nickel. Peter wanted to hang around Rome. Paul wanted to go far and wide. Somehow there was room for both.

A lot of water has gone over the dam. We started building huge edifices and the papacy took on a life of its own. Pomp and circumstance and basilicas overtook common sense and purpose of mission. We called them princes instead of disciples and boy did they act like royalty. You can kiss my ring and kiss my…, well you know what I mean. Any similarities to the US of A?

Then this guy who would come to be known as Francis shows up. He didn’t want the job of Pope. It wasn’t in his genes. He was a Jesuit. When elected he didn’t bolt for the limo but took the bus back to his hotel. He is not served in residence but hangs out with everybody else for dinner. He drives security crazy by reaching out to people of all sorts after saying mass in a local church.

He is shaking things up. Like his namesake he wants to place more emphasis on the poor and forgotten. At Easter he washed the feet of criminals instead of the Curia. Actually there may be a message there. He is throwing the bums out. But he is also going to make two former popes saints. One liberal. One conservative. A compromise. Imagine that. A smart man. Very smart.

Some people call him a radical. I think he is just going back to basics. Back to where there was a purity of purpose. Not a gazillion interpretations by the cognoscenti or Machiavellian intrigue at every stage of governance. He likes fellow Christians, Muslims, Jews and even Atheists. I don’t know about you but I think we could use a guy like this on our side of the pond. Let’s be Frank. I think we could do worse.

As Always

Ted The Great

Factoids:
Historians have estimated that approximately 40 to 45 percent of the colonists supported the rebellion, while 15 to 20 percent remained loyal to the Crown.

The Treaty of Paris was signed in 1783, and Great Britain acknowledged America’s independence. The treaty established a northern boundary with Canada and set the Mississippi River as the western boundary.

Pope Francis shunned the red Gucci slippers in favor of the black Brogans he had brought from home. When he addresses the throngs he speaks to his “brothers” not my “children”. At least he is halfway there. Not a factoid but I think he looks like a cross between Yogi Berra and Rudy Guilliani.

An estimated 25,000 American Revolutionaries died during active military service. About 8,000 of these deaths were in battle; the other 17,000 deaths were from disease, including about 8,000 – 12,000 who died while prisoners of war, most in rotting prison ships in New York

Although as many as 250,000 men may have served as regulars or as militiamen for the Revolutionary cause in the eight years of the war, there were never more than 90,000 total men under arms for the Americans in any given year.

I am putting together a program to help people understand Hospice better. I want to be able to talk about it in a coherent way so of course I go through the various aspects. There are the physical surroundings, the ethics, the philosophy but I found myself drawn to the intangible…a thing called care.

The nurses and the aides at Porter Hospice are incredible. There is a sign over the entrance to the nurse’s station that says, “Angels Live Here”. They got that right. This isn’t a job to most but some sort of superhuman calling.

There is a woman by the name of Margie. She gets into this zone where she is going through check lists of the eight or nine people on her watch. It’s her brood. She juggles a myriad of details about each patient from meds to dietary concerns. From family to where they want their remains sent. One day when I was on duty she called four hours after her shift to check on a patient’s well being. This is more than a job.

The incredible part is that they do this day in, day out. I spend four hours a week. I started to look around my mundane world. I began to notice a lot of heroes and heroines. I saw a woman in church with here husband by her side in a wheelchair. He had suffered some sort of a paralyzing blow and was motionless. He could maneuver his chariot with the joystick on the armrest but who got him in and out of the car? Who fed him? Who cleaned his soiled body?

With my eyes getting wider and wider by the day I saw parents with spastic children. I thought of the poor babes stricken from birth. They didn’t institutionalize them but took on a superhuman task of taking care of the child 24/7. There really aren’t quiet moments. Romantic dinners. A getaway to the islands and idyllic beaches. Forget it.  Their life is their child.

There are husbands and wives devoted  in sickness and in health. There are sons and daughters who forsake time alone for a parent lost in the fog of Alzheimers. We have a friend whose wife visited her mom everyday for almost ten years. Long past any sort of recognition it was not an act of duty. It was pure love.

There are young wives and families dealing with a husband or dad who had his limbs or his brains brutalized by war. They are scarred by burned flesh and seared minds. Imagine seeing that hunk of a guy going off to faraway places only to come home a mere shadow of a man. You talk about love.

I also thought about those special ed teachers. Their students are not overachievers breathlessly waiting to be called on as they raised their hands frantically. They work for days just trying to elicit a tiny response. Progress is measured in year not days Patience, love and understanding far beyond anything I am capable of.

Many of you have gone through some of these ordeals. I can only sympathize not empathize. I have seen members of my family dealing with ALS and the ravages of cancer. To each and everyone of you I tip my hat and can’t say enough.

I don’t write this to sooth my own pangs of conscience. I have been beyond lucky. If hit with it I hope I will be able to cope. I wrote a few months ago a piece called, “You’ll Never Know.” I evoked some interesting responses as I tried to speak of catastrophes in life that we can’t even imagine. And that is the point. This our world not yours or mine. We are part of it and really can’t look away if we are to be part of it.

I am constantly amazed by the plethora of people today who dwell on bitching. My marriage sucks. I lost money in the market. I am going to give up golf I am so bad. This wine is dishwater.  Really?

There was a study done and released last week that said that the rich are not uncaring but just have no idea. You can’t understand what life in the projects or on the streets if you haven’t been there. You have no idea the ignominy of standing in line with food stamps unless you have felt the glare of your fellow shoppers as you dole out the chits. Ditto for all for all of us and  what I am speaking of here.

Look it takes an incredible person to really devote their lives to caring for others whether it is by choice or circumstance. There are very few Father Damiens or Mother Theresas. Saints they are or should be. We are not them but we should at least appreciate what drives them and what they mean to all of us. .

I guess I hope when I get my presentation ready I can give it with a lot of soul and passion. Not for me but for all the incredible people out there that spend most of their time in the service of others. I hope I do them proud. Most of all I hope they realize with every encounter that change my life for the better.

That’s it for now and please take care.

As always

Ted The Great

Factoids:

The estimated value of volunteer time for 2012 is $22.14 per hour.

According to the Corporation for National and Community Service, about 64.3 million Americans, or 26.8 percent gave 7.9 billion hours of volunteer service worth $171 billion in 2011.

65.7 million caregivers make up 29% of the U.S. adult population providing care to someone who is ill, disabled or aged. A caregiver is an unpaid individual (a spouse, partner, family member, friend, or neighbor) involved in assisting others with activities of daily living and/or medical tasks.

MySalary.com reports that in 2011 the national median annual income for hospice staff nurses is $65,829. Entry-level hospice nurses, in the lowest 10 percent of wage earners, receive an annual average income of $54,736. Hospice staff nurses with extensive experience and academic achievements, fall in the top 10 percent of earners and receive an annual median income of $77,179. They are worth every penny.

Yours truly has just descended from 8,000 feet to 5280 in his snappy new Lesbaru. That politically incorrect appellation for my vehicle of choice is the result of the penchant of women in Colorado who like women for driving an Outback. I also like women so I can’t be far off. Pass the granola while I put on my Birkenstocks.

I was in Vail to visit my crazy nephew and his family. We played golf with a gentleman from Florida. That is the only time “gentleman” has been mentioned in the same sentence with Paul and me. It takes a Flatlander to remind us of just how gorgeous our mountains are. We too often take the vistas for granted. Not today.

I have made the Vail drive hundreds of times and every bend and yaw is second nature. For two hours each way it is just a time to sit back and let a thing called reverie take over. I actually listened to NPR on the way up and as usual I learned plenty from this sick bastion of liberalism! Not! Sorry kids. This is a rarity of tax dollars well spent.

They played a repeat of an interview with Charlie Rose and Sir Ken Robinson. They discussed creativity and the good possibility our educational system is stifling it to death. We have placed a premium on being correct as opposed to taking chances. Testing ad nauseam, we gauge knowledge on percentages and not expanded brainpower. Point being if you don’t experiment you don’t learn.
More fascinating was a comment the guest made about how improbable resumes are. He wanted to be a soccer player in college. As I wended my way through the vast landscapes of the Gore Range I dwelled on who would have thunk this kid from Long Island would be here today. The twists and turns of Cripple Creek were truly a metaphor. Flowing smoothly in spots and hung up on rapids and rock crags in others they aptly describe my curriculum vitae. I hope yours has been as intriguing.

I have had a marvelous few days. I have not read a newspaper or tuned in Fox or CNN. Eavesdropping and Syria have taken a back seat. Saturday I sang in the choir with a might of a man named Kevin. His basso profundo dwarfed my baritone but he was an incredibly gentle man. We talked of fatherhood and simplicity. I am new at this joint sing performance and I make mistakes. But like any other good family they pick me up, dust me off and say hang in there. Good stuff.

Father’s Day started with breakfast shared with my daughter Lindsey where we just spent time together in a world caught up by kids and errands. The food and the commentary were smooth and sweet. Golf with my son soon followed. His once or twice yearly outing to the links yielded a smooth 78 proving once again heredity plays no part in his wonderful skills. A drink with Megan and a family dinner just validated what a lucky person I am.

I have done my “Hi, how are you?” gig today. I chatted with the barristas at Starbucks in Vail. I went beyond a hit and run meeting with a convenience store clerk in Frisco. Turns out he was from Uzbekhistan. Talk about an improbable resume? I just want to take a little time to tell people they are an important part of the world we live in and mine in particular. I counted up all the encounters today and you know it wasted a grand total of 9 minutes of my incredibly valuable time. What the hell was I thinking?

The only negative of my wandering has been an inordinate amount of roadkill. It’s spring and I guess the leaves on the trees mark the time when love is in the air. Why else would a buck or elk take on a 40 foot semi? I guess love is blind. Actually a momma goose was herding her flock across the interstate. By some stroke of luck or timing the cars and Winnebagos slowed down enough to ensure a safe passage. I wonder if that would have happened on the Long Island Expressway?

I have to go. I am spending my afternoon with two of my grandsons. They want Padge to do a cannon ball off the diving board and I may just be mellow enough to do it. Kathy and I are going the Denver Botanical Gardens tonight to watch Tony Bennett in a small outdoor amphitheater. I will raise a glass of red to all of you. You are so good to be close and take a few moments to read my musings. Luck plays such an important part in our lives but let’s hope a little goodness has something to do with it. Pax.

As always
Ted the Great
Factoids:
Sunrises and sunsets in the mountains take place in stages. First there is the wisp of sunlight on distant peaks that gradually broadens as the minutes pass eventually engulfing the entire hillside. Replay that same scenario in reverse in the evening until the last shaft of light hits the top of that hill.

Mountains and rivers actually laugh. They have seen man’s act over thousands of years and are constantly amazed we haven’t learned more in all these millennia.

The winter snow of Vail melts and feeds the Colorado River which in turn feeds millions in Nevada, Utah and California on its trip to Mexico.

According to Department of Labor statistics the average American will totally change careers 4- 5 times but 7 is not out of the question. For once I am above average.

In 1970 Kathy Williamson and Ted Kenny, then engaged stood on a hill in San Francisco the night before we said good bye before my time in Viet Nam. After far too many drinks we sang I Am Coming Home to You San Francisco. We did and sang it again tonight 43 years later.

You’ve heard it hundreds of times. Sometimes from a friend or parent figure. Sometimes from a con man who has some sort of stupid enticing siren call. As a babe you have to trust. As a teen you want to trust or maybe that is the beginning of mistrust. You know anyone over 25 is suspect. As you get older you just shake your head.

I am a trusting soul and more than once it has proven my downfall. I am not by nature paranoid. I think all people are basically good. It is not naivete but rather a way I choose to live my life. I don’t often lock doors. I don’t like looking over my shoulder. Sometimes I just don’t see it coming.

I am wary of government. Not in a Big Brother sort of way but just seeing the comedy of errors or malfeasance that tells me it is too big for anyone to tame. When the Department of Defense says they could have anywhere between 1-5 million subcontractors and not be sure, my eyes roll. When the IRS spends $40 million on meetings during a disastrous few years in our economic history faith goes out the window. Forget about targeting the Tea Party. These people are idiots.Can’t trust them.

But even further we had Clinton who didn’t have sex. Rummy and Cheney swore there were WMD’s and they even knew where they were hidden. PAC man. PAC money. The fact they gave $1mill to my campaign has no bearing whatsoever on my vote. JFK’s morals. Nixon’s tirades. FDR’s IRS targeting. J Edgar Hoover. Need I say more. Can’t trust this crowd either.

Let’s talk money. Dick Dietz was the president of the Chatham Trust back in New Jersey. We played tennis together and he held my mortgage as well as my savings. Now the banks collude to fix the Libor rate. JP Morgan Chase gets nailed and pays a fine for rigging bids. HSBC launders money and says with a straight face when a used car salesman deposits $25 million in sequential travelers checks in a small branch that they had no idea. They almost bankrupted the country but nobody pays with their freedom. Still no trust.

Doctors? They bill Medicare for services unrendered. Watch the HMA on 60 Minutes. Emergency medics are given percentage quotas to hit for admissions, necessary or not. Gotta keep those beds full. Pill mills? Why not. It makes perfect sense to have 25 specialists seeing a 93 year old woman with stage IV cancer. Ugh! Still looking.

There is $80 billion in Medicare fraud annually. Millions in Social Security checks to people already dead and buried. Disability claims are paid after a doc says that person can’t do their old job. Not a new one just the old one. And the game is played by pros and Joe Average Americans alike. The guy next door taking cash or paying it.
All part of the game.

Enough of this I am just going to watch a baseball game or maybe a bicycle race. Lance Armstrong beat cancer and all his competitors. What? You mean he had help. He swore for ten years he had nothing to do with it. Ditto McGwire, Sosa, ARod, Bonds et alia. Scratch the national pastime.

I’ll just pay attention to today’s youth and their schooling. Wait. You mean they graduate from class to class not knowing how to read at grade level? How does that happen? Don’t they leave anybody back? Oh yeah, now I remember the teachers in Atlanta got together over pizza and beer and changed test results. Man I feel better already. Where do I turn?

Now I am sorry but I have a few questions for all of us. As a country and as a world are we seeing the graying of the lines of morality? C’mon TTG don’t be such a party pooper. You know everyone is doing it. You have to in order to remain competitive. What’s a little cash or fooling around between friends. Don’t be so hard on the kids. They are just finding their way in the world in their teens, well maybe twenties. Thirties? Forties? I guess it depends on what the definition of “Is is.”

My main question is do we give passes because it is just easier to wink and look the other way? Or maybe it just makes us feel less guilty of our own transgressions. I know I have enough of my own and a pass here or there is just what the doctor ordered. Or in the long run are we just kidding ourselves?

I get the sneaky suspicion that somewhere along the line we are really going to have to pay the piper. Fess up and pay up. Sooner or later trust erodes to the point where you really don’t know who to place our hopes and dreams in. My apologies to you secularists and atheists but I have a feeling In God We Trust is the only option we may have. Not a bad one after all.

As always
Ted The Great

Factoids:
The government has revoked the ability of 14,663 providers and suppliers to bill Medicare over the past two years focused on providers in areas that have historically high levels of fraud, such as durable medical equipment, home health care and ambulance services.

California resident Rand Washburn was charged by the San Diego County district attorney with cashing in on more than $300,000 in Social Security checks that were sent to his mother for about 15 years after she died. After burying her body in the backyard, he failed to report her death to authorities, according to the DA’s office.

The term white-collar crime was coined in 1939 by Edwin Sutherland, who defined it as a “crime committed by a person of respectability and high social status in the course of his occupation”. White-collar crime is similar to corporate crime as white-collar employees are more likely to commit fraud, bribery, Ponzi schemes, insider trading, embezzlement, cybercrime, copyright infringement, money laundering, identity theft, and forgery.

As of 2010, undergound economy in the United States alone was estimated to account for over $2 trillion US Dollars (USD) per year in unreported cash holdings.That’s right your taking or paying cash is just part of it. It has also been estimated that up to 80% of all US $100 dollar bills printed every year end up overseas within weeks of their circulation. The underground economy supports any number of overseas operations, including covert wars, raw drug production, and human slavery rings. All of these illegal activities require an abundant amount of untraceable cash, preferably from a strong government with a stable legitimate economy. Money laundering? Just our biggest banks filling a void in services.

The number of deaths annually from medical errors could be as high as 100,000. These errors probably cost in excess of $35 billion annually. As many as 50 million prescriptions annually may be improperly filled. I think I am going holistic or was it ballistic?

Trust in me.

Right: noun…“a just claim whether legal, prescriptive or moral.” You know me when I need clarity I go to the dictionary. Definition by itself gives one a sense of understanding and empowerment. I need both. But then lo and behold I have opened Pandora’s Box because you can have a noun, verb, adjective or adverb.

Wait a minute TTG, that’s confusing. Not only that but the word can have so many different meanings. I am caught by the notion that we flip around terms without really knowing the intricacies and subtleties of language. Don’t want the facts to get in the way of a good story.

I have opined before on Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness but as I go through my notes I did not see anywhere that I owed you a good life or a prosperous life. I don’t owe you an education. But as a practical matter we should at least provide people with basics but then they should choose what is right for them.

But the word utilitarian now creeps in. Sure it would be wonderful if everyone had a college degree but who will take care of cars and plumbing and electricity? But then again that guy makes $80 an hour and I have been waiting for three days for him to call me back for a broken pipe. At this point I have to ask what is WRONG with this picture.

Now I also don’t owe you the latest and greatest in healthcare. It’s nice that we have surgeries that can replace most any old body part that failed due to misuse or old age but is that a right? We bring you in after a drinking binge or jumping off a cliff because you thought it was cool. It costs a lot of money to get you right but is that right?

You have the right to an attorney if you rob a bank or blow up a marathon. If you can’t afford one we will pay for it. And for any ensuing discovery or appeals that may go on we will pick up the tab. If you go to jail we will make sure you are comfortable with a TV, three squares and a place to worship no matter who or what that god is. Many people worship the god of material things so I guess we should have a Walmart annex in every jail. It’s their right.

I elect you whether you are right or left. Wait a minute I object to this left business. I am left handed and in tennis my style is called the Sinister Game. Is that right? But I digress. I know some will say the appellation of Republicans as “The Right” is God given but I think then you are downright out of your mind.

If I put you in power I should also have the right to oust you. I usually can wait until the next voting cycle but sometimes I want you out pronto. I can impeach you but that just bogs down the wheels of government more than ever. Besides who is the final arbiter of right and wrong? The Congress? That is downright foolhardy.

Okay before I let your and my head spin out of control let’s cut to the chase. I believe that you are entitled(watch that word) to have a roof over your head in the name of shelter. But it is not mandatory that it be 2000SF plus or that everyone room have a bathroom. I think no one in this country should go to bed or get up hungry. Of course for a lot of us hungry has a wide definition. If we provide these two we have done our institutional part.

That’s it? Look if a town decides it is in the best interest of the evirons to build a school and staff it that is good. If it wants to build a medical center or hospital to care for its citizens it should do so. If it wants to widen a highway or build an interchange for the interstate they should do so. Yes, we need police and fire protection as well as a standing army or navy but we don’t have to inflate those numbers through redundancy and unnecessary staff. We can’t mandate that every story has a happy ending.

The real crux to me is that every right has a responsibility. If you are a parent you need to teach your children well. If you are a boss you can’t take every last nickel for your self and fire with impunity. If you write you must be sure you have your facts straight. If you drive roads, drink water and flush your toilet you must pay for that.

If you are elected to office you must put the best interests of the country before your own career path. If you are trusted as a healer of body or a healer of soul you must safeguard that belief in you. I guess what it comes down to is it really isn’t about my rights but what is right for all of us.

We are all in the same boat and I only hope we have the decency to hold out an oar to a drowning person. A doctor should heal before checking your pay stub. I pray that we really figure out that we should make the pie bigger rather than our own particular piece of it. But if you don’t and choose to feather your own nest then that is also your right however wrong that may seem to me.

The neatest definition of right I found was as a verb “to restore to an orderly healthy state or condition.” No matter how far off course our ship gets we can always change that course to the right direction. If it capsizes it can still be righted. But it does require all hands on deck. Ok. Enough of this righteousness. I’m outta of here and I just hope I make the right decision on what‘s next.

As always
Ted The Great

Factoids:

There are ten articles in the Bill of Rights with seventeen amendments thereafter. They really set the tone of our personality as a country. Freedom.

Synonyms for right: equitable, fair, honest, accurate, integrity, appropriate.
Antonyms…just one. WRONG

Idioms:
Right between the eyes
Your heart is in the right place
Turn out all right
Head screwed on right.

An entitlement is a guarantee of access to benefits based on established rights or by legislation. A “right” is itself an entitlement associated with a moral or social principle, such that an “entitlement” is a provision made in accordance with legal framework of a society. I could spend a couple “Heads” on that note. I’ll spare you for now but do think about it.

Tornadoes in Oklahoma. Reopening Seaside Heights after the rage of Hurricane Sandy. Floods. Volcanoes erupting. Are things terribly out of whack or proceeding normally? Is there rhythm and symmetry in life or are we meant to live in chaos or fear thereof? That’s the subject of much deliberation right now.

Leonardo felt there was a balance to everything and I am not sure he was wrong. I have to go to Mother Nature. What we perceive as upheaval or disaster is to my mind just this big blue marble getting the kinks out. Or maybe it is just trying to rebalance what we geniuses tend to screw up in the name of progress.

There is a food chain which amply provides all living things an adequate source of chow in all forms. Sure the little guy eventually gets eaten by the dominant species but it all evens out. We are the only phylum that eats or kills itself. We call that a higher form of rational being.

As for humans, the evidence of balance is right there from the get go. The baby’s first steps are fraught with grins and a bit of thanks they are so low to the ground after the inevitable crash to earth. We speak of stroke victims who have to learn to walk all over again. Our battered and maimed warriors have to struggle to balance their broken bodies and minds alike.

Which brings me to another aspect. The thing between your ears. When we fly into a rage over being cut off in traffic that is losing balance. We figure that if you are a mass murderer you are unbalanced no matter how intricate your planning. We want you to undergo therapy and take drugs. We have no idea how slim that line in the sand that determines sanity as defined by so called  experts.

Markets are a great example of balance. The law of supply and demand is supposed to even everything out. But you know that is not good enough. We have to tinker. We keep our finger on the scale while weighing. Hoard and hold back for profit. Inject trading systems that react in nanoseconds to the mere mention of a scary word in the blogosphere.

The Walmarts and Costcos say their way of providing product is efficient and fair. And they are probably right. But I think they have also upset a very fragile balance of hometowns and local commerce all over America and the world beyond. I have to ask if Apple sheltering billions overseas is in or out of whack? Oh that’s right everyone else is doing it. Shareholder value you know.

There are warning signs everywhere. An overloaded and oversized truck was out of balance and hit a girder on a bridge across the Skagit River. Everything on that span’s assembly was dependent on the other pieces to stay intact. Interesting thought. An out dated design we say. Yet we pronounce that we should not touch the Federal gas tax that hasn’t changed since 1992 and the coffers for correction are empty.

We have a Defense Department that is so huge and complex former Secretary Gates says there is no way to get to the bottom to try and fix it. Yet we keep funding in the name of national security. We have a healthcare system that will vary charges two to three times the base price for the same procedure. That’s okay. That is just for the uninsured. Medicare and HMO’s get a much better price.

Our Legislative and Executive departments put through a sequestration program that was so heinous that nobody could survive under it. Yet the populace seems to have survived so far. The markets are up and even the annual deficit is falling. They are now spending all their time investigating and holding hearings at the expense of the affairs of state. Please tell me if I am delusional or is this seriously awry?

We overeat and overdrink. We have gone from normal portions to supersizes. That has caused us to recalibrate the size on clothing to XXXXL. We start partying at ten rather than being home by midnight. And then we exercise and diet like maniacs to bring it all back into norms. But what the hell are those standards?

On balance(sorry I couldn’t resist) I think we have lost our equilibrium. We are stressed out at home and at work. We worry about finances. We worry about college and our place in society. Our companies are too big to fail. Our armed forces are spread so thin to the breaking point. Like a machine that is about to burst cylinders from going too far too fast we need some time in the shop.

The good news is that the Ferrari can be rebuilt, tuned up and repainted. Same chassis, just some new parts after some serious and candid diagnostics. That is if we adjust the steering mechanism before it hit’s a wall at 160 mph. Balancing acts are old hat if you are a Wallenda. The rest of us really have to learn and put in some serious practice time. I’ll help man the net.

As always

Ted The Great

Factoids:

Over the course of our lifetimes fully 50% of us will suffer from some sort of mental illness. Depression. Paranoia. Reading this blog. Sorry about that.

Nik Wallenda walked on a tightrope 1800’ spanning Niagara Falls which roared 200’ below. ABC made him wear a tether which he felt hampered him.

Bigmen.com and the Big Men’s/Stout Men’s Shop is the nation’s oldest and premier Big and Tall clothing store. Their waist sizes range from 32 to 88, shirt sizes from Small to 12XBig as well as MediumTall to 12XtraLargeTall, and shoes/sneakers/boots from 8 to 20

A

new report from Transportation for America shows that there are more than 70,000 structurally deficient bridges in the United States, which the federal government defines as needing substantial repair or outright replacement. More than 18,000 of these structurally deficient bridges are concentrated in large metropolitan areas, and account for three-quarters of all bridge crossings on any given day. That’s about 210 million cars crossing damaged bridges in the country’s biggest cities every day. Accidents waiting to happen.

As I look around at our world today we have more than our share of things to be fixed. Do you want to view them as problems or opportunities? Good question. We define ourselves as conservatives or progressives and that is supposed to steer our ship. But I think it goes way beyond that.

Whenever I get knee deep in things complex I always find my way back to Leonardo DaVinci. He was the master of thought and innovation. I have espoused on more than one occasion about his seven thought processes which have been cataloged by Michael Gelb. The two that spring to mind are Curiositae and Sensazione.

We have to take time to solve a problem by defining it in pretty good detail. Leonardo would look at something from three totally different directions. That’s his Curiositae. He didn’t go to the bookcase and whip out Solution#3 which he had learned at Harvard Business School. He laid out statements and parameters of what he was trying to accomplish.

To be successful you have to look beyond barriers and biases. We are not God’s gift to the music world or any other discipline. We have to look around us to be sure. How many times have you heard “This is the way we have always done it” or even worse “That will never work” before the idea is halfway out of your mouth. Negativity has no place in innovation. You have to want to learn from others. Curious ,we must be.

Sensazione is the tuning up of our five senses. People say they can’t visualize a set of plans. Is that because they really can’t or they refuse to open their eyes and press their envelopes? Hearing goes beyond great music but also challenges us to truly hear what is going on around us. We then take it in and study it. Contemplate on it. Not to look for the first opportunity to knock it down but see if it really has legs.

Our sense of taste let’s us try new things or do you dismiss them out of hand? “I would never eat that crap.” “I only drink white wine or red.” Hmm, I guess you are really open to my next thought. The sense of smell gets to our emotions. Garlic. Spices. Beautiful flowers. I don’t know about you but my brain lights up in about nine different directions. I get wound. I guess that is the manic side of my illness. Ha! Ha!

We have made remarkable strides in medicine but we still maintain a reactive rather than proactive stance. We don’t reward good behavior but in a perverse way do so for bad behavior. Go ahead and eat or drink your brains out and we will heal you. We really have to approach this in a different way but can the healthcare industry come kicking and screaming into the 21st century?

Schools, taxes, global warming, entitlements, farm subsidies, the size of government itself. All need breaths of fresh air. Totally new approaches. Ah yes TTG we will once again bring up that thing called compromise. But it all begins with seeing what is possible rather than predicting downfall.

Think back to Bell and Edison. These were true geniuses. Who today do we equate with Einstein? This may sound like a stretch but I think not. Our body politic is a reflection of who we are. We have all gone to our respective corners and will die on our swords. My way or the highway. As a people we are not creative. Innovation is a better vacuum or thinkpad or tablet. Stuff. Right now we need a lot more than a better driver or putter.

We need to address water and energy as resources to be managed. We need to find more food. We have depleted our oceans. Global warming is here whether you like it or not. We have to figure out how the hell we are going to live with one another. We shouldn’t be worrying about how we are going to finance the takeover of Sprint but how can we nurture entrepeneurship and true invention.

I actually feel all our consolidation has been deleterious. We have fewer of everything from banks to airlines. In these vast bureaucracies whether they are business or government the innovators die. Their seniors either feel threatened or deaf. Just want to get through and not create something dynamic.

As fewer and fewer manage greater numbers we become just part of the crowd. We need to see life as an exciting prospect and frontier. Not something to be endured. The old crowd doesn’t want to rock the boat or change their lives. The young look at things cynically and see no point in participation. If they do it is provincial in their town or burgh but not the nation as a whole.

We need Leonardo. He could invent things no one had even thought of before. We need to delve into our wonderful brains and find some pearl that just might make life a whole lot better. We need new approaches and a case of TNT for our staid thinking. We need Curiositae and Sensazione. I’m buying.

As Always
Ted The Great

Factoids:
Michael Gelb…How to Think Like Leonardo DaVinci
The Da Vinci principles are:
Curiosità – An insatiable quest for knowledge and continuous improvement
Dimostrazione – Learning from experience
Sensazione – Sharpening the senses
Sfumato – Managing ambiguity and change
Arte/Scienza – Whole-brain thinking
Corporalità – Body-mind fitness
Connessione – Systems thinking
Some friends taught it as a course in high school

Da Vinci Inventions to name a few…all in the late 1400’s
Scuba Gear
Helicopter
Parachute
Revolving Bridge

Super Freakonomics a fabulous book with tons of innovation and creativity. A totally new way at looking at the simplest of things.
Featured is a company call Intellectual Ventures which dreams up off the wall solutions to everyday problems.

I made my way to San Diego last weekend. The town bleeds Navy and we gave it one more reason to do so. There was the reunion of the Swift Boat Sailors Association. The attendance of some 250 plus was amazing in that over a five year period from 1965-1970 there were only a few thousand who had received the title of Swift Boaters. The few and the proud does not only belong to the Marines.

It was my first time at such festivities. I made sure friends and family had their phones on for my collect call from jail. Nolo Contendere. Most were in bed early. The fact most brought their wives was a testament to advanced years or maybe everyone had gotten used to short leashes. They made up for it in enthusiasm.

A Swift Boat is a 50’ gun boat. It has a ¼ aluminum hull and a lot of firepower. It had a captain and a crew of 5 or 6 depending on how the draft and the rest of the war was going. We made do with extra flak jackets hanging over the rails for a little more protection. Probably a little more psychological than practical.

We were all pretty irreverent which you know is my style. But the overall persona was wrapped tightly in a thing called camaraderie. “I’ve got your back” was standard issue. But there was something far deeper that was somewhere between PT 109 and McHale’s Navy. No pomp. No circumstance. Just get it done.

I love the sea and was proud to be in the Navy. But for so many of those guys it is their day in the sun. It has defined who they are. They were resplendent in jackets, shirts and old river greens festooned with this patch or that. A few were in full dress and there is nothing cooler than Navy Dress Whites. Women beware. Well, it used to be that way.

As I wandered around the pool or hospitality room I could hear them telling of this firefight or that. Scary rivers and canals with nicknames like “Rocket Alley.” They reveled in the earsplitting cacophony of twin 50’s pumping out a gazillion rounds of hot lead per minute. Or at least it seemed that way. Time has a way of embellishing. Some say they should move on. To me it was oral history. A bit of folk lore. Who cares? It was fun to hear.

It was as if I was watching a movie where at least I had been on the set. I didn’t remember the hull numbers or the names of this river or that. I did remember the fellow skippers who I had not seen in some forty odd years. We seemed to bring up high jinks more than anything else and that was good. To each his own.

For most they have weathered the storm nicely. They had gotten married. Some had kids. Some had become famous in their own right. Most had pursued dreams. All were very human. No hot dogs here. Time had taken its toll but not in a bad way.

There were two things that struck me the most. The first was the ease of communication. To not see someone for 40 some odd years and be able to pick up where we left off in a matter of moments is a marvel of human interaction. There were no jaw dropping revelations. Some waxed philosophically about things like war and life. Neat but not gaudy as I like to say.

The second was more material. There are very few Swift Boats in captivity. The association found one. Where else but Malta? It seems we gave it to the Maltese Navy and they were about to give it up for the scrap heap. Somewhat battered and beaten they took her on ocean going freighters and through miles of government red tape to the Maritime Museum in San Diego.

The boys didn’t stop there. The “Dirty Boat Crew” sanded, filled, painted and rebuilt the engines. All retirees. All for free. There was one fellow who completely rewired the boat. He and his wife lived in Yuma AZ but had been living in motels for a month on their own nickel to get the job done in time.

The before and after pictures are a marvel. The boat? Gorgeous. We all took rides but the best part of all was when they started the engines. They were deep and throaty and the vibration on an aluminum hull came right up through your shoes. It was a feeling out of the past and one a Swiftie can never forget. At least this one won’t.

To my Band of Brothers I say thank you for letting me come back. You all looked great as Navy men do. Thanks also for the persistence in keeping the story going. So many of you busted your butts to do so. Go down to the wharf and think of all things good and bad. Savor the memories and forget the bad stuff. Life is good. Fair winds and following seas to you my friends.

As always
Ted The Great

Factoids:

PCF: Patrol Craft Fast. (Swift Boat) Length 51’. beam 13’7”.
Displacing 17.5 tons light. 22.2 tons loaded.
Power: 2 Gray Marine diesel engines.
Top speed 30-35 knots depending on your engineman

Armament: Forward: Twin 50 Caliber machine guns mounted in a gun tub atop of the pilot house.
Aft: Over Under Weapon with a 50 Caliber machine gun atop
an 81 Millimeter mortar. The strongest guy on board manned this one.
Various other weaponry consisting of officially M60 machine guns, grenades and M79 grenade launchers. Unofficially the strangest collection of sidearms, Uzi’s and AK 47‘s you would ever see. Go for it. Whatever made you happy.

We carried mortar rounds and enough ammunition to do considerable damage. The total cost was around $20,000 in 1970. We used to describe emptying out the various ammo lockers as “shooting up a Cadillac,” which was the going rate for a DeVille back then.

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http://www.swiftboats.net

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Hear Ye, Hear Ye….

Let me start by saying you can call off the suicide watches for yours truly. I am doing just great. As a matter of fact even better after all your wonderful responses to “You’ll Never Know” last week. Ted’s Head has never created such a firestorm of sorts and that was beyond interesting.

The ego in me says, “Wow, some of you got it.” Then the arrogance of such a comment brought me back to earth. Who the hell am I to say whether you got it? Guess what? Maybe I didn’t put it very well. For the moment I want to dwell on the process. A thing called communication.

We bombard and are bombarded by various messages all day long. They can be verbal, written, or non verbal such as eye contact or body language. They float somewhere in the spectrum and then are received by one of us. Whether we are genuinely receptive is another story.

We create barriers of some sort or let’s for the moment call them filters. First of all is the source. Whether it is writer or speaker we have something more than ambivalence towards them. We have some sort of gut feeling either positive or negative. For me it’s whether it’s Sandra Bullock or Nancy Pelosi doing the talking? Peyton Manning or Donald Trump? Duh!

Then if you are talking about something I know or believe in you are on the mainline to my brain. If not, I am starting to shut down. Positives get put in the cranial cavity for future reference and cons hit the circular file. I may respond for further clarification and then take appropriate action. Next.

It is actually very cool this happens probably hundreds if not thousands of times a day. Sender, message, recipient. Simple and yet so complex. To me the growing process involves trying to catch as many of these vibes as possible. Sure I will chuck some but I at least want to take a good look to see if they hold some degree of water. That’s probably not the norm.

If I am hard left or right I can’t let anything get past my fire wall of defense. I have worked hard to get to my position of the last thirty years. Don’t want any free thinker screwing up a good thing. I am comfy and don’t need any other noise in my life. I can’t say I blame you. Takes a lot of hard work to buck the tide.

On the other hand I dare any of you to sit down and listen to Rush Limbaugh and Rachel Maddow for a bit. Separately of course. See if there are not two or three things they say in the course that make sense? Abortion? Guns? Economic theory? Not all ideas but at least something where you can say I agree. A starting point. But we don’t want to give even an inch. Can’t show any weakness…except of course in our thought process.

I am so struck by the road ahead and our response to the bends and curves. We have got to rethink so many aspects of our country and our lives. We have to have debates but they should be enlightening not divisive. We have got to utter the word that so many find impossible. COMPROMISE. And that means being able to put our radio on receive as well as transmit.

I work my ass off trying to do it. It ain’t easy. I labor through Charles Krauthammer as well as Maureen Dowd but in the end it is invigorating. The only way I can get my juices going is to think of new things. I have to take a problem and try to dream up some way to fix it. I don’t think I am anything special.

To me one of the greatest triumphs and at the same time failure of our body politic is Simpson Bolles. Here was a bipartisan commission that came up with a blueprint to get us out of our financial morass. It was presented two and a half years ago at the behest of Obama. It was shelved by him and the Congress because they could not stand the thought of giving up sacred cows. Ditto Immigration. Ditto gun control.

If each one of us were to concentrate on the task at hand we could accomplish some scary things. If we could hear disparate views and really try to think them through. If we could taste different foods, different ideas, different genres and just savor them for a moment before spitting them out. The worst sin is not to even taste them at all.

If we would just communicate and throw out the filters, the preconceived notions and prejudice we could make some really sweet music. This is not just a feel good concept. Maybe not my future but my kid’s and grandkid’s is in jeopardy and wasting that well being is not an option to me.

As always,

Ted The Great

Factoids:

Over 25 of you responded to last weeks epistle. I actually had written it a couple of months ago. Some of you were concerned for my well being including my sister and I thank you. Some of you read it a couple of times and couldn’t figure out what I was saying. One of you wrote back and asked if I had cancer. I don’t. Someone said they read it in the morning and after the fourth or fifth paragraph they wanted a drink. Kathy said it was really dark. Some had some deep insights and they caused me to pause. Most of you just read and wondered. I guess that’s what this is all about.