Pearl Plus 70

A message from the past.  This is what we used to call leadership.

Mr. Vice President, Mr. Speaker, Members of the Senate, and of the House of Representatives:

Yesterday, December 7th, 1941 -- a date which will live in infamy -- the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.

The United States was at peace with that nation and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with its government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific.

Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in the American island of Oahu, the Japanese ambassador to the United States and his colleague delivered to our Secretary of State a formal reply to a recent American message. And while this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or of armed attack.

It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time, the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace.

The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. I regret to tell you that very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu.

Yesterday, the Japanese government also launched an attack against Malaya.

Last night, Japanese forces attacked Hong Kong. Last night, Japanese forces attacked Guam.

Last night, Japanese forces attacked the Philippine Islands.

Last night, the Japanese attacked Wake Island.

And this morning, the Japanese attacked Midway Island.

Japan has, therefore, undertaken a surprise offensive extending throughout the Pacific area. The facts of yesterday and today speak for themselves. The people of the United States have already formed their opinions and well understand the implications to the very life and safety of our nation.

As commander in chief of the Army and Navy, I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense. But always will our whole nation remember the character of the onslaught against us.

No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory.

I believe that I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost, but will make it very certain that this form of treachery shall never again endanger us.

Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory, and our interests are in grave danger.

With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph -- so help us God.

I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7th, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese empire.

Fragile

Last week I had something called an electrocardiogram. It wasn't too bad. First of all, a nice young lady smeared me with lube and probed me. That alone would have made it a good day. Then I got to see live video of my heart beating. Now that was really something.

It took a while, as she had to get pictures of the old pump from several angles, showing all the valves and chambers, and seeing how the blood moved. It was fun to see. But the one shot that really got my attention was a good look at one of those valves.

It's not a big deal. You've surely seen something like it on TV or in a biology class. Just a little flap of flesh, flicking up and down, opening and closing a passage, moving blood out of one space and into another. Flick, flick, flick, this tiny little flap of flesh. Over and over, right on schedule, unchanging, on and on.

Until it doesn't. That's what I kept thinking about, watching that little flap of flesh. It's one of those little things in our bodies that we are never really aware of, those small working parts that flick a tiny fraction of an inch, or release a certain chemical just when it's needed, or do a thousand little things that they do day after day. Until they don't. Because we are delicate things. We imagine ourselves to be strong or tough or even big, but we are not. We are made up of little, bitty, breakable things, only as strong as the weakest bit, and vulnerable in ways we dare not imagine.

I'm not sure what to think of this. On the one hand it did drive home the idea that I ought to take care of myself. There's no point adding any burdens to those little bits, no use throwing off the delicate chemical balance that a lot of those aging components need to keep working. On the other hand, I know that at any moment, no matter what I do or don't do, that little bit of flesh, flicking away moment by moment, could just stop flicking. Then all this stuff, the good, bad, mad, and miserable, would just stop.

And I wonder, what am I doing with the heartbeats that I do have? I don't have time to ask what I have done with my past heartbeats. It's the heartbeats of today that I must tend to. Am I enjoying the little moments that life offers, or am I letting comparatively insignificant things darken those moments between the beats? When musician Warren Zevon was near the end of his life, he was asked what he had learned. “Enjoy every sandwich,” was his advice. Enjoy every one of those little moments life gives you. They are, after all, finite.

Ideally, life should be spent following bliss, pursuing dreams, and finding joy in the moment. But we don't live in an ideal world. There is fear, pain, tragedy, and challenge. Sometimes in pushing against these and overcoming them we find our greatest satisfaction, but they are always there, our lifelong burdens. I'd just hate to hit that last flick of life and realize that I've been dwelling on pain rather than living in joy. I think I'd rather go out chasing rainbows than hiding from storm-clouds.

Meanwhile, one fluttering little bit of me keeps on moving, to and fro, giving me moments.

Partial Perspective Vortex

Not too long ago I was playing around with the Google Sky Map app on my phone (a valid reason to get a smart phone in itself), looking at where the stars would be if I didn't live in light pollution land.  I noticed a little spot called "Hubble Ultra Deep Field."  I had heard about this.  It's a spot in space where scientists had aimed the big telescope and looked farther in space and time then anyone had ever looked before.  It got me thinking, and it got me looking around, and eventually I bumped into this video:



This is a couple of years old, so you've probably seen it already.  It's just that it is a little tiny bit mind blowing and at the moment it is as close as we're going to come to Douglas Adams's Total Perspective Vortex.  So, if you haven't seen it already, and you'd like a glimpse of just how tiny we are compared to the vastness of the cosmos, give it a click.

They Called It Pope's Night

I like the way Boston celebrated the Fifth of November back in the 18th century. Rival gangs would make effigies of the pope, parade them around town, and beat the ever living crap out of each other. Fatalities were not uncommon. Then the group with the fewest injuries would set their pope ablaze. Ah, good times in the Athens of America.

Trivial Hoot 17

It's been a long time since I've had a minute to blog. But here I am, on my first day off from the job in eleven days, and I'm suddenly just loaded with time. I've only had to field one call from work, read half a dozen emails, and attend one unscheduled conference call. Quite relaxing.

So, to celebrate all this leisure, I have decided that it is time for the return of The Question.

This is another of my favorite “odd man out” puzzles. Here is a list:

Eagle. Intrepid. Aquarius. Antares. Falcon. Orion. Challenger.

Okay then, one of these things is not like the others. Which one is it?

As always the first person to correctly respond receives a big invisible hoot and the honor of being named a Steely-Eyed Missile Man. Go for it, you smarty you.

Nice Little Quote

Just a little clip from the book I'm reading:

Women fainted at the sight, so it was said, while strong men gasped; but then, women were forever fainting and strong men gasping in the records of that century.

From Pierre Berton's Niagra.

Oh My.

Suddenly George Takei seems to be everywhere. And I love it.

Here's George with Patty Duke (Cathy was unavailable. Someone gave her a hot dog and she lost control.) doing a PSA for Social Security:



And here's George's audition tape for the Spiderman musical!



Seriously, this guy should host SNL.

This Blog is Not Dead

It is simply waiting for me to get my life in order.  Nothing major.  It's just that I have no time these days for anything like long-form writing.  I'll be back.  Or I'll die of frustration.

You Cannot Outsmart Crazy

America's most important political commentator, Jon Stewart, says everything I wanted to say and several wise things I hadn't thought of regarding the tragedy in Arizona.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Arizona Shootings Reaction
www.thedailyshow.com
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Ye Olde Lunch

My best pal had to go to the dentist today, which she didn't want to do. To cheer her up I decided to take her to lunch to a place where I've not taken her before. We both love a bit of seafood so we sallied forth for the Union Oyster House, also known as Ye Olde Union Oyster House, also known as the oldest restaurant in America.

The building went up sometime in the early 18th century. No one is quite sure when. Its had a number of different occupants. One of the country's first newspapers, the Massachusetts Spy, was published for a while on the second floor (they had to move out of town when the revolution started to get kind of shooty). During the war soldiers of Washington's army would go there to get paid. A few years later a guy named Louis Philippe started living there. He made a living teaching French to young ladies (ooh la la, and all that). Thirty four years later he became the last king of France.

It still looks pretty much like this

In 1826 a couple of guys opened a restaurant there. They built a half circle shaped oyster bar. Sitting where we were, in booth #1, I could look at the old bar and imagine Daniel Webster sitting there as he often did, slamming brandy and downing plate after plate of oysters. Up on the second floor is booth #18, John F. Kennedy's favorite spot.

Today the clientele is a funny mix of seafood and history loving locals and tourists. Depending on the time of day you see mostly tourists as the place is right on the Freedom Trail, halfway between Faneuil Hall and Paul Revere's house. A lot of people make a big show of being annoyed by tourists, but I kind of like them. Yup, we do have an interesting town. Yup, we locals are a colorful lot. So here's to you, Mr. Japanese Guy taking photos of the lobster tank. Enjoy your visit.

And I enjoyed my visit to Ye Olde Union Oyster House. The hostess steered us to our booth gruffly, which is how we old Bostonians prefer it. I was reminded that this was the place that hired the first waitress in American history, Rose Carey, back in the '20s. I briefly wondered if she would on duty today when a nice young lady named Elizibeth came over to take our orders. My best pal ordered fried scrod and fries. What is scrod, you ask, you poor out-of-towner you. It is a hunk of white fish. What sort of white fish? Cod? Haddock? Pollock? None of your damn business, you nosy bastid. And who cares, really? It's fish and it's good.

Me, I had something called New England fish cakes. I have no idea what was in them, but they were really good and really filling. They came with a side of fries and Boston baked beans. Damn but I love a good plate of Boston baked beans. The beans, the molasses, and that little unctuous touch of pork fat that pulls it all together. Oh my.
This was preceded by a lovely bit of cornbread and Union's justifiably famous clam chowder. Thick, creamy, with lots of clams and potatoes, a bowl of that could have made a meal in itself.

This was all washed down with a special Sam Adams ale that you can only get in that one spot, a light brown beauty called “Colonial.” Fortified by a pint of that I was more than ready to take on a regiment of redcoats.

That, my friends, is lunch, Boston style.

We took our time, soaking in the dumpy, history soaked atmosphere. We listened as an oyster shucker explained his art to a group of fascinated tourists. We gazed at a portrait of Ebenezer Hancock, the army's first paymaster. We watched the doomed lobsters waving their banded claws at one another. And we briefly considered dessert. The apple cobbler looked good. So did the Indian pudding and the Boston cream pie. But we had to quit there, full of the bounty of the sea as we were.

A lovely lunch, all in all. So to you locals, don't forget your heritage and get yourself some chowder. And for you visitors, stop by. Don't forget your credit card (it only looks cheap). And don't forget to stop at Ye Olde Gift Shoppe on your way out.